CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
DE KEYSER, MAYOR.
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 21ST, 1887.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
SESSIONS I. TO VI.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Including cases committed to this Court under Order in Council pursuant to the Winter Assize Act of 1879,
Held on Monday, November 21st, 1887, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. POLYDORE DE KEYSER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARCHIBALD LEWIN SMITH , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., DAVID HENRY STONE , Esq., Sir THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN, Knt., Sir JOHN STAPLES , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the said City; EDWARD JAMES GRAY , Esq., STUART KNILL , Esq., and GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
WILLIAM ALPHEUS HIGGS, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
DE KEYSER, MAYOR. FIRST 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, November 21st, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
HENRY WALTER POSTAL . I am a tobacconist at Norwich—I have been for sometime a customer of Messrs. Phillips and Co., and have a running account with them—on 10th May I paid the prisoner this cheque for 129l. 10s., payable at the National Provincial Bank, Norwich Branch; it was passed through my account, and was cleared on the 12th—it was crossed; I know the prisoner's handwriting; this endorsement is his.
Cross-examined. I was a witness here at the last Sessions, when the prisoner was tried for embezzlement of this sum; he was acquitted.
DAVID PHILLIPS . I am cashier to the firm of Godfrey Phillips and Sons—the prisoner has been in the service since 1st March, 1886, as traveller; his salary was 5l. per week and a commission, and he had a pass over the Great Eastern line; he went the Great Eastern district principally—he was directed to send up cheques that he collected immediately on receipt; he had no authority to sign our names—as to money and coin hat he received, he was directed to get postal orders or some form of draft as soon as might be and remit them direct to Commercial Street; he as to come up once a fortnight, and as he had a pass that was no expense to him—I frequently saw him when he reported himself—if he had money in hand he ought to have come and paid it over at once—this letter of May 10th and this list of accounts is in the prisoner's handwriting—I believe the list was sent up a day or two after the letter—the list contains accounts that were owing on and previous to 10th May—I am in a position to state the days on which those accounts had been collected by
the prisoner; there are 15 items—I first learnt on 28th July that this 129l. 10s. had been collected; up to that time the prisoner had never accounted for it—when I made the discovery I wrote to him and received this answer: "August 1st, 1887. Dear Sirs,—In reply to your letter, I find it is correct that Mr. Postal has paid me 129l. 10s. I have also received 62l. 9s. from Mr. E. Norton, and if you will be good enough to have my commission made out, I will be at the office in the morning to balance. Yours truly, J.S. Nichols." A member of the firm had previously seen Mr. Postal—the 62l. 9s. is a further sum which the prisoner had collected and not accounted for—this receipt of 26th June is signed by the prisoner—he came up on 2nd August and saw my brother; I was present—my father said to him, "Well, Nichols so you have been robbing us?"—he said, "Yes, I have taken something, it is not so much as you think"—my father then said there was nothing but to give him in custody—the prisoner then began to cry very bitterly, and begged that nothing might be done in the matter till the 16th August, 14 days later, when he said all his defalcations should be made good; he still kept crying, and implored my father to take him on again as a traveller, that he was a very good traveller, and could collect good orders, but he could not collect moneys—eventually my father yielded to his tears and entreaties, and said he would do nothing in the matter until the 16th, but he would not compromise a felony, and that the prisoner would be as liable then as he was now, with the exception that now he could be given into custody and on the 16th he would have to be fetched—before he went away he also asked that an account of the commission due to him might be made up and a statement showing the accounts he had taken less the amount of his commission—we refused, and said we would not treat his defalcations as a matter of account—he then went away and did not come any more, and I got out a summons.
Cross-examined. Nothing has happened to my brother Joseph since the last trial, he is quite well—I got the whole of this case up—I was not called at the police-court, because I suppose one witness was considered sufficient; my brother was called at the police-court and also here last Session—I heard the prisoner tried; this 129l. cheque was one of the charges then—I heard my brother give evidence with regard to his version of this confession; I think he did not state the whole facts—as far as I can remember, he simply said then the Nichols confessed having taken the money, and it was not quite as much as we suspected-all three of us agreed that we would not compromise a felorty-nothing was said about 200l., but if he had paid the whole of the money by the 16th we should not have proceeded against him—if we had got our just due it we would not have been a compromise—I heard Mr. Grain state at the last trial that these defalcations were 260l. it is not true that the prisoner has increased our trade; up to June, 1887, the prisoner's salary was 5l. a week, but after that there was a fresh agreement, he was in somebody else's service—he then received from us a salary of 10s. per month, but his commission was largely increased, and his travelling expenses were stopped—the prisoner used to pay money into his own account at the bank and send us his own cheques in place of postal orders—we bank at the London and Country Bank, which has branches all over the country, it was possible for him in the country when collecting cash to take it to some local branch and pay it there to the credit of our London account
at Shoreditch—the last cheque we received from the prisoner is dated 1st August this year; I should say the prisoner sent us 25 cheques from July, 1886, to July, 1887—I did not know that these moneys were being paid into his own account; the cheques were made payable to order, and were endorsed "Godfrey Phillips and Sons"—on 17th April in the present year the prisoner wrote us that he had closed his banking account, but we received two cheques on that same account after that—at the police-court I swore that this 129l. cheque had never gone through our account—we first knew of this matter of Postal's in July, and we had the interview with him in August—Mr. Bushby granted a summons on the charge of embezzlement on the 12th—the summons was not for the purpose of allowing time to elapse to see if anything was forthcoming—there are other charges of embezzlement against the prisoner for which there are indictments.
Re-examined. We knew when we received the first cheque of July 19th that the prisoner had a banking account of his own; all these cheques are on the Peterborough branch of the National and Provincial Bank—I have carried out the amounts of these cheques, and they are all inreference to particular accounts which he collected; I can give you the amounts of the cheques if required—the account showing what the cheque was sent for might be sent up the same day or the next—he has never endorsed our name to any cheque except this one that I know of; this cheque never came up to our bank in London—when the bank receives a cheque in the ordinary way they send the cash to us.
JOSEPH PHILLIPS (Cross-examined by MR. GILL). I was examined on the last trial, I believe; I then said that I charged the prisoner with embezzlement, and indirectly with forgery—the reason my brother, is now called is because being cashier he knows more about it than I do—there was an arrangement between the London and County and the National and Provincial that a cheque paid in to the National and Provincial should be credited to our account in London—I was asked at the last trial how much we had been robbed of, and I said about 260l.—I did not contemplate getting more money out of the prisoner—I was present at the interview my brother speaks of; my father allowed him to go away on that day—I don't know that he had asked for his commission account to be made up—I knew that he had been paying in moneys to his own account—I never endorsed the cheques; I don't know whether my father did—about 12l. or 13l. was due to him for commission.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SHERMAN Prosecuted; MR. GEOOHEGAN Defended.
CHARLES ALFRED CLARK . I am a scale and balance manufacturer, of Richmond, Surrey—on 2nd May I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, and in consequence wrote to Messrs. C. and Co., whom I found to be Cave, Cox, and Lafone, of 50, Gracechurch Street—after that I entered into negotiations with regard to purchasing a share in his business—that lasted some little time—about the end of June I went down to the
defendant's premises with Mr. Bevis, who asked him in my presence whether his stock was clear—he said it was—he asked him whether he owed any money privately—he said "No, 50l. would more than cover my debts"—I signed this deed of partnership on 9th August—I should not have signed it if it had not been for those statements—I am acquainted with the defendant's signature—this is his signature to this deed—under the deed I bound myself to pay 200l. into the bank for capital in the business, 100l. down and 100l. within three months, and I paid 50l. down to the defendant for premium—after that I went into business, and traded with the defendant—three weeks or a month after I entered into partnership with him I went over to Ealing one morning, and found a man in possession—the defendant assured me it was on account of his. private furniture, and had nothing to do with the business—eventutually I paid the man off—I had to do so, because he threatened to take out the stock and everything the following day—I had this bill of sale made out—this is the defendant's signature to the bill of sale—after I had taken proceedings against the defendant I believe a man was again put into possession—they have cleared everything out since then.
Cross-examined. My solicitor, before I entered into this partnership, was Conrad Fitch; he prepared the partnership deed—he did my legal business, and an accountant advised me—the defendant was represented by a solicitor—I should not have advanced 50l. if I had known the stock was encumbered, and that his debts amounted to over 50l.—those are the two false pretences I allege—I do not think it was agreed in the partnership deed that our stock should be held to be of the same value—I paid 50l. to Tompkins as the difference between my stock and Tompkins's stock—that was the understanding at the beginning—that is the 50l. I am charging him with defrauding me of—it represented the difference in value between his stock and the stock I brought into the partnership—I swear that—it appears in the deed that the 50l. was by way of premium for the partnership—Mr. Fitch was my solicitor, and witnessed my signature to the deed—the deed is signed by me and Tompkins—before I signed it was not read over to me—I cannot say I read it—I had a rough proof sent me, which I scanned through—I would not have signed anything—I have some of the partnership stock which he brought in, on my premises at present—the value of it is 20l. or 30l.—it was not nearly 50l.—I don't know what money is due on the bill of sale, it is no business of mine—I have not read the schedule of the bill of sale; I understood it included everything, stock, lot, and barrow—the man in possession told me—the fourth clause said "the respective stocks in trade are now deemed to be of equal value, and shall belong to the partners in equal shares"—the stocks were to be deemed of equal values after I had paid him a certain sum—I don't understand much about legal matters—I was represented by Solicitor and Counsel at the police-court—the first hearing lasted about an hour, and was adjourned for my Counsel to bring further evidence—the next hearing was about an hour—I suppose they gave me a very fair hearing, I don't know what the custom is—the Magistrates dismissed the summons—I do not know that the prisoner is possessed of property that would more than cover his debts—I did not inquire into that before taking these proceedings.
business—I went down with him to interview the prisoner at Ealing—I looked round the place and took a general impression of what was there; I did not make a list of it—I did not look into every book which he produced to me, only this ledger—I asked him whether he had bought the boiler outright, or whether it was upon the hire system, paying so much per hour—he said he had paid for it, and he produced the receipt—I went upstairs into the larger workshop, and then downstairs to the boiler—I asked him how long he had been established, what the nature of his business was, about the value of his stock and whether it was clear—he said "Yes"—I have a very strong recollection of having cleared my mind that there were no liabilities; what the exact words were it is impossible for me to remember—I should not take notes of such a conversation, but I asked him such questions as left no doubt on my mind.
Cross-examined. Mr. COX was called at the police-court—when a person is going to sell a business and I to buy it, I don't take all his statements for gospel, I inquire into them.
Re-examined. Mr. Gordon COX was the prisoner's solicitor I believe—Mr. Clark told me that he came from the firm acting on the other side.
FRANCIS BARLOW FEARNS . I am a clerk in the office of Messrs. Cochrane and Sons—I produce this bill of sale executed by the prisoner to Messrs. Cochrane in June—I cannot say how much money was owing on it—I have not got my books here—a further advance was made in June—the first bill was for 40l.—that was cancelled, and then the second one given for 60l.—Messrs. Cochrane and Sons took possession of the goods under the bill of sale—I do not know what amount was owing—I should think about 30l. was due in June.
Cross-examined. In consequence of these criminal proceedings against the prisoner we have taken possession under the bill of sale—the bill of sale for 60l. includes the first-floor front room, second-floor room, &c., carpet, bookcase, and every article belonging to the prisoner—the original advance was for 40l.—I cannot say how much is owing, I could have told if I had looked at my books.
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that there was no evidence to go to the Jury. The RECORDER ruled that there was evidence on the first Count about the stock.
CHARLES ALFRED CLARK (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). The value of the stock was represented to be about 360l.—the accountant never went into that—he took it at his own valuation—the property of his I have is worth 25l. at the outside—I do not know that between May and August Mr. COX was selling property for the defendant—I do not know that a considerable balance from that property was coming to the defendant—Mr. COX said something of the kind in evidence; that was the first time I heard of it—he did not say a considerable balance was due to the defendant—he said he had sold property for the defendant, but it had not turned out as successful as was expected—I believe he said there was a small balance, I will not swear it—I have not seen COX to-day—I have no objection to his going into the box.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy.—He was then charged with having been convicted of felony in February, 1884, at Brentford Petty Sessions, to which he PLEADED NOT GUILTY.
was tried with another man for stealing four rose-trees while growing, and was fined 2l.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
3. JOSEPH FITZGERALD (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a post packet, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General, he being employed in the Post-office; also to stealing a letter containing a silver watch, and to stealing a letter containing two half-crowns and two shillings.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
5. JOHANN HEINRICH PROSCH (26) to forging and uttering a Savings Bank receipt for 8l. 10s.; also to forging and uttering a Savings Bank receipt for 30l.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Sixteen Months' Bard Labour.
6. WILLIAM RICHARDSON (29) stealing a post letter containing a 5l. note, the property of the postmaster-General, he being employed in the Post-office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months Hard Labour. And
7. ALBERT TASKER (19) to stealing a containing a pair of gloves; also to stealing a post letter containing a gold bracelet, and to stealing a post letter containing two silver brooches, he being employed in the Post-office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 21st, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 22nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
The prisoner, under the advice of his Counsel, declining to plead, a plea of NOT GUILTY was entered by the Court.
This case arose out of two trials in the Mayor's Court. The perjury alleged was that the prisoner lead sworn on the first trial* that on two days, viz., on 20th and 21st April, he was at Bournemouth and not at his office in London, where the prosecutor swore he had interviews with him. There were other allegations, with respect to which the RECORDER held there was not the necessary corroboration, and as to the one in question, that was subsequently explained by the defendant in the second trial as a mistake in date. After hearing Counsel, he held that there was no case to go to the Jury, who found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
The costs were directed to be paid by the prosecutor.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PAGET Prosecuted.
JOHN TIMSON SMITH . I am head porter at the Examination Hall, on the Embankment—I occupy the basement—I shut up the place on the night of 23rd October, between 10 and 11; everything was safe—shortly after 2 I received a communication from Mr. Webb, and went and found the kitchen all in confusion, the drawers in the dresser were all turned out, likewise the table drawer, a lot of bottles and dishes broken, and a little more outside in the yard—I did not miss anything then—I found the larder window open and the putty and part of the window frame cut away as if they had tried to take the glass out—I went for a constable, and then went to the station—I there saw a corkscrew and shawl which identified, and I afterwards found they were missing from the house.
TOHOMAS JOSEPH WEBB . I am porter at the Examination Hall; I live there—about 2 on the morning of 24th October I heard a noise like glass breaking—I called the head porter and went round the place with him—what he has stated is correct.
CHARLES KERSON (Policeman E 69). About 2.30 on the morning of 24th October I was sent for to the Examination Hall—I inspected the premises; I found no one concealed on the premises—the pantry window was broken, and the kitchen window had also been tampered with by a knife—I found 2 bottles of Bass's ale full; some one had got over the wall—I found several bottles broken inside the pantry, and a tureen—about 3.30 I heard some voices in the Savoy Mews, one said "If you don't empty that b—bottle, give it me, and I will"—I went and fetched another constable—I then went into the Mews and found the prisoner and another man who has been discharged—one was drinking from a bottle—the prisoner received the bottle from the other one—I asked him what he had got in the bottle—he said, "A drop of ale"—I asked him where he got it from—he said "Oh, it is nothing to do with you where I got it from, will you have some?"—I said "Before I partake of your bottle I should like to know where you got it from?"—he said, "Oh, that is nothing to do with you," and would not tell me—I said there had been a burglary committed at the Royal Examination Hall opposite, and that I should charge him on suspicion of having committed it—at first he resisted being taken into custody—he was very violent at first, he kicked me—in going up Savoy Street from the Mews he said "I won't go," and as he was going over the Strand towards Wellington Street he drew a knife from his pocket and cut me on the thumb, it was not very much—I searched him at Bow Street Police-station and found on him this corkscrew, a black shawl concealed beneath his waistcoat, two bottles of ale, one empty and one full—they were shown to Smith.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence denied all knowledge of the burglary, and alleged that he found the articles in a bundle in Savoy Street.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 22nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
HENRY SCOONES . I am a chair maker of 14, Dunstan Street, Shoreditch—on 6th November, about 3 a.m., I heard a noise, got a light, went into the next room, and found the prisoner crouched behind a chair—I asked him what he did there; he said, "All right, governor, I came in for a sleep"—he had got through the parlour window, which was shut when I went to bed at 9 o'clock—the flower pots in the window had been shifted and the blinds disarranged—I picked up a broken garden pot.
WILLIAM KNOTT (Policeman), I went to this house about 4.15 a.m. after the prisoner had been taken to the station, and found on the drawers this portion of a file—there was a mark on the window, but I cannot say whether it was done with the file—the window was not secured, but the sash line was broken, and it was very difficult to open.
Prisoner's Defence. I had had too much drink, and found the window half open, but I did not go in with the intention of stealing.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DILL Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
THOMAS WALTON . I live at 67, Robert Street, Hampstead Road—on 23rd October, about 1.30 a.m., I was walking down Great Portland Street; as I passed Nelson's Hotel I met the prisoner and another man—they went one on each side of me, and each struck me a violent blow on the side of my head; I staggered, and they rushed at me again—I struggled with them and shouted "Police"—I had on this silver watch and chain (produced)—I missed them—a gentleman rushed out of the Nelson's Hotel, and I cried out "They have stolen my watch"—the prisoner is one of the men—he was never out of my grasp—the gentleman said "Hold him, and I will give you assistance"—he blew a whistle—the prisoner said "Let me go, I will give you your watch"—I held out my hand and he put the watch into it—I held him till a policeman came, and I gave the watch to him—the chain was found about 4 yards away—the ring had been pulled off the watch—I had had a glass or two but was not drunk—I have no doubt the prisoner is one of the men.
Cross-examined. I had left home about 11 o'clock, and left Edgware Road a little before 12 o'clock, where I called at the New Inn for some drink—I met an officer's servant there—I don't think I had three glasses
of drink—I do not recollect tumbling into the fire at the police-station—when I met the two men I did not jostle them into the road, nor did they ask me where I was coming—I did not lurch against one of them, and send him into the gutter—when I called out, the porter came out and tripped the prisoner up, but he went back when I had the prisoner pinned to the ground, and when he had gone the prisoner gave me my watch—I perhaps struck him twice, I had to defend myself—when I tripped him up his head went on the kerb.
JOHN ARCH . I am night porter at the Nelson Hotel—about 11.30 on this night I heard a noise outside, I went out, and saw three men; one ran away as soon as he saw me open the door—I stood behind a partition and saw the other two fighting—one of them said "You have got my watch, you b—"—the man was just throwing Walton on the floor a and time when I flew out and laid hold of him; it was the prisoner I am quite certain—he struck me on my forehead, and I took hold of him and threw him on the floor, and said to Walton "Hold him fast, and I will blow for an officer."
Cross-examined. I cannot swear the words were not "You would take my watch, would you?"—that is what I said before the Magistrate—I stopped till a policeman came up, but I stood a few yards away so as to keep my eye on the hotel door—I saw a piece of the chain lying on the pavement, but did not see the watch—I did not pick the prisoner out from others—I identified him in the dock at Marlborough Street.
By the COURT. The prisoner was arrested on the spot.
FREDERICK MAYO (Policeman D 426). I was on duty in Great Portland Street, heard a whistle, ran to a spot opposite Nelsons Hotel and saw Walton holding the prisoner down on the pavement—Walton said "I have been knocked down by this man, who has stolen my watch and chain"—I said "Where is the watch?" and Walton handed it to me—I said "How came you by the watch?"—he said "He said if I would let him setup he would give me the watch back"—I looked at his waistcoat, and saw that his chain was gone—I turned my light on, and found it on the pavement three or four yards off—I took the prisoner to the station; he gave his address 31, Great Tichfield Street, which was correct—Walton had been drinking, but was not drunk—he walked steadily.
Cross-examined. He was not exactly sober—he did not stagger into the fireplace at the station—he was excited—the prisoner never drew my attention to the fact that the prosecutor was drunk.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, November 22nd, 1887.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SAUDERS Prosecuted.
ROBERT HOPPUS . I am a boiler-maker, of 6, Union Terrace, Lime-house—at 12 o'clock on Saturday night, 5th November, I was coming through Eastfield Street, when the prisoner rushed across and stabbed me in the thigh with a knife, saying "I will do for you"—I fell and he stabbed me three or four times after I was down—he had had a drop of drink—I
had had no quarrel with him—I only knew him to pass "the time of day" to him, and he to me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Other people were there—I saw the knife in your hand—I did not rush across and strike you several times—I did not knock you into the gutter, or kick you in the ankle—I had not been with a young woman all the evening; my sister had—I had not been with her in the Walnut Tree—I did not see you speak to a young woman—you had plenty of time to throw the knife away; you got some hundreds of yards away.
HARRIET HOPPUS . I am the sister of the last witness—I was walking down Eastfield Street on this evening with the prisoner's young woman, and saw my brother coming down about 50 yards behind, and all at once I heard a row; I turned round and saw the prisoner standing over my brother with a knife—my brother said "I am stabbed"—the prisoner turned and walked away sharply—I saw a knife in his hand.
Cross-examined. I don't know what the row was about; it was all in a moment—I was not with my brother and a young man in the Walnut Tree—I never saw my brother that evening till I got to Eastfield Street—I did not see him interfere with you, or any row—I saw no other young man there with whom my brother had a row.
JAMES SKIPP . I live at Eastfield Street—I saw the prisoner rush over the road to the prosecutor—I stood on the other side as I have got a bad hand—the prisoner knocked the prosecutor down—when I saw a knife in the prisoner's hand I rushed over and they knocked me down.
Cross-examined. I was with you all the evening—I was coming down Eastfield Street—he did not rush over to you; you did to him—he did not knock you down; you knocked me down—Harriet Hoppus was 50 yards away when it occurred, I should think—I don't know how quickly she came up—I saw her come back with a policeman and with you when I got up from the ground—Hoppus was insensible—he told his sister he was slabbed.
GEORGE RAMPLIN (Policeman HR 48). On the night of 6th November I heard cries of "Murder!" and "Police!"—I saw the prisoner walking towards me—the sister came up and told me the man who had gone up on the other side had stabbed her brother—I went across and stopped the prisoner—he said "I know nothing about it, as I never use a knife nor carry one"—he seemed surprised at being stopped—he had been drinking, but was not drunk.
Cross-examined. I found no knife on you—you did not seem to try to get away—you spoke in a sober way.
EDWARD KING HOUCHIN . I am Divisional Surgeon of Police at Stepney—I saw Hoppus on this night at the station—I found three small incised wounds on his left thigh, one about half an inch long and half an inch deep; a similar wound on his right thigh—his trousers were cut in places corresponding to the wounds—they must have been produced by some sharp instrument—force must have been used, as it has cut through a thick pair of trousers—there was also a long superficial wound about 6 inches long, only through the skin over his left ear and by the side of his neck, immediately over the external jugular vein—that was caused by a sharp instrument—he was faint from loss of blood—he is quite well now.
Cross-examined. I said to you "You should not use a knife," and
you said that you had not—I don't remember you saying "Stabbed who?"—you were very unconcerned, because you were asleep when I came in.
The prisoner in his defence said that some one eke must have stabbed the prosecutor; that there was a great crowd, and that he was accused on account of his having had a few words with the prosecutor.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard labour.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MURRAY . I am a carpenter, of Charlton Street, Fitzroy square—on 13th October, about 11 p.m., I went into Peel's Hotel, Fleet street and called for a glass of rum—the prisoner was there—we had conversation and a quarrel—we went outside into Fetter Lane and had a fight—some one in the crowd called out "He has got a knife"—I turned round to go away, and the prisoner stabbed me from the back in the back of my arm—I saw no knife—I ran towards the Record Office, bleeding very much, and spoke to a constable—I went to the Royal Hospital, Gray's Inn Road, where I was for three weeks—two days afterwards the prisoner and another man were brought to the hospital; I picked out the prisoner as the man who had stabbed me—I am quite sure he is the man—I was fighting with him for some time.
JOHN ORFORD . I am medical officer at the Royal Free Hospital, Gray's Inn Road—on the night of 13th October the prosecutor was brought there, suffering from an incised wound on the inner side of his right elbow—the wound was down to the bone—it must have been given by a sharp instrument from behind—his life was not in danger, but one of the large nerve-trunks of his arm was divided—he was in the hospital three weeks.
FRANK FBANCIS (City Policeman 347). At 10.30 p.m. on 13th October I saw a crowd outside Peel's Coffee House—I went there and saw the prisoner fall down in the road apparently from a blow—I picked him up and asked him to go away—he was slightly drunk, I should say—another man was with him and they both went away—I saw nothing of the prosecutor, nor of the knife.
WILLIAM PALMEB (City Policeman). On 15th October, from information I received, I went to the Broadway, Ludgate Hill, and arrested the prisoner and another man on suspicion of stabbing—the prisoner said "Where?"—I said "Peel's Coffee House"—he said "What time?"—I said "After 10 at night"—he said "I can prove I was at home in bed at that time"—I took him to the Free Hospital, Gray's Inn Road, where the prosecutor identified him immediately he passed by his bed; he failed to identify the other man—I said "Make quite sure"—the prisoner put on his hat, and the prosecutor said "I am sure that is the man."
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNDERS, for the prosecution, stated that, as the prosecutor had gone to sea, he should offer no evidence on this indictment.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
JOHN STEWART . I am a whip maker, of Commercial Road—about 6.30 p.m. on 11th November I was at work—I heard a scuffle upstairs; I went up and saw the prisoners going out of my shop—I went outside, and saw Howard with one hand in White's left trousers pocket, and Freeman endeavouring to get his right hand into White's right trousers pocket—I endeavoured to get to him; I took him into my shop to give him protection—Howard tried to come in after him; I pushed him out three times—Freeman came to his assistance—Howard got down this whip (produced) from my shop, and struck White five or six times across the face with it—I tried to protect White, when Freeman got into my shop also—they tried to throw White down the stairs leading to my workshop—I put him into my back parlour—Howard said "I will have his b—life and money and yours too"—I said "You won't," and took hold of his throat with my left hand and wrested the whip from him with my right—he then picked up some pieces of cane and turned to scuffle with me—a policeman came, they tried to get away, and got among the crowd—I got them into my shop again and gave them in custody—I did not see the prosecutor strike either of the prisoners.
ROBERT BIRD . I live at Commercial Road—on 11th November, about six p.m., I was passing the whip maker's shop—I saw White there with his hands in his pockets; he was between the two prisoners, who were trying to get his hands out and force their hands in—he was crying out "Don't let them rob me; I am only a poor sailor"—there was a crowd—Freeman struck him in his face—he rushed into the shop for protection—Howard rushed in after him, and snatched a whip, and so brutally ill-used White over his head that next day he seemed only held together with sticking plaster—Howard was smoking a cigar.
Cross-examined by Howard. White was bleeding after you went into the shop.
Cross-examined by Freeman. You struck him on the threshold; he was incapable of striking you; he was so drunk—you were the worse for drink, but nothing like White was.
ROBERT THOMAS BOOTH . I live at White Horse Street—I was in Commercial Road—I saw a crowd and heard some one halloaing out "I will give 10s. if any one will bring a policeman"—the two prisoners had White lying down on the ground—as I came up White ran into the whip maker's shop—Howard ran in after him, picked this whip off the counter, and struck him, knocking and cutting him about the head very frightfully—I saw Freeman hit him with his fist—a gentleman got in between them—I did not see the prisoners put their hands in White's pockets.
Cross-examined by Howard. You hit White with this whip, which Stewart took away from you—you picked up a cane to strike Stewart with—I did not see him strike you—I saw your eye cut.
THOMAS YOUNG (Policeman E 401). I was called to this shop and saw Howard with a cane—I took him in custody; he was sober—he was very violent; on the way to the station he tried to throw me down—with assistance I put handcuffs on him—Freeman followed him to the station where he said "That is the other man"—I took Freeman outside the
station—at the station Howard said "I did strike him"—when I took Howard he said that White bit him; his face was bleeding—Freeman said "I did not strike him."
Cross-examined by Howard. You did not go quietly at first.
The prisoners in their defence said that White attacked them first, and that they only acted in self-defence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.
JOHN LACK . I am second carman to John Taylor and Sons, of Lombard Street—on 11th November I went out with a one-horse dray, with Kirby, another man in the same employment—the dray contained a quantity of wines and spirits—we got to Mr. Deakin's, in St. Martin's Lane, shortly before 2 o'clock, and delivered some goods there, and goods of considerable value were left in the van—we then went to the coffee-shop at the west end of Long Acre to have some soup, and were absent between three and five minutes, and when I came out I saw nothing of the dray—I went to Bow Street Police-station, and the other man went to try and see the van—at the station I saw the van with all the goods.
WILLIAM GEORGE BEADLESTONE . I am a porter employed at the London Bankruptcy Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields—on 11th November, between 2.40 and 8 o'clock, I was outside King's College Hospital, and saw the prisoner galloping the dray towards me, and as he was turning into Portsmouth Street he collided with the kerb and fell off the van over the side on to the pavement—I ran after the horse and stopped it about 50 yards farther on, held it. and handed it over to the police—before that they had assisted the prisoner to the hospital—I did not go to Bow Street because I had to go back to my situation.
WILLIAM HEAD (Policeman E 322). On 11th November, in the afternoon, I was in Portsmouth Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, and saw the driver fall off the van on his head—he looked stunned, and I helped him to the hospital—he was able to walk there—he had received some injuries—I left him there, and went back and took the horse and van from the last witness, and took them to the station, where Lack identified them—the next morning the prisoner was discharged from the hospital, and I took him in custody upon this charge, searched him, and found a pouch and tobacco-pipe upon him, but no money—I asked him his address, and he said he had none.
GUILTY*.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
21. WALTER HIGH (34) to four indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of 6l. 10s., 3l. 17s., 10l., and 6l. 10s., with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
24. CHARLES CRESSWELL (45) to stealing 2lb. of sausage skins, the goods of James George Williamson and another, his masters, after a conviction of felony in January, 1883 .— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
25. DAVID ROBB (37) to forging and uttering an acquittance for 2s. 6d.; also to stealing an order for 2s. 6d., the goods of his masters, the Guardians of the Poor for the parish of Paddington.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 23rd, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
(For other cases tried this day see Kent eases.)
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
GEORGINA HESS . I am a widow, and keep a provision shop at Sandringham Buildings, Charing Cross Road—in August last I had two bills of exchange for 10l. and 12l., which would fall due on November 9th and 10th, and on August 18th Mr. Pruniere, my traveller, introduced the prisoner to me, who said that he was employed at the Comptoir D'Escompte, Threadneedle Street, as a clerk—I knew that to be a banking firm—he said that he could get my bills discounted, and would charge me 2l.—I gave them to him, and he wrote this receipt (produced) in my presence—that was Thursday, and he said he would get the money on Saturday—I did not see him again till October 4th, but in the mean time I received these two post-cards, which I have compared with the receipt, and believe them to be in his writing. (These bore the post-marks of August 26th and 27th, stating that he had not been able to get the bills discounted yet, but would call on the witness.)I next saw him early in October in Finsbury Circus—I took hold of his arm and said "Halloa, what have you done with my bills?" I will not leave you till you give me up bills—he said "Madam, I am in a hurry on business, to-night I will come to your shop"—I left him he did not come that night, though I waited for him till 10 o'clock—I knew his lodging, 22, Smith Street, Clerkenwell, and went there several times—on 13th October I went there with Mr. Lazarus, my lawyer's clerk, and asked him again about the bills—he said that he had them at his office in the City—I asked where his office was—he said that was no business of mine, but he would write to me and make me a proposition in the morning—I refused a proposition, and said that I wanted my bills—next morning, 14th October, I went with Mr. Lazarus to Finsbury Market, in consequence of information I received from France, and saw the prisoner outside No. 4—he turned round to go away, but we caught hold of him and asked him for the bills, and Mr. Lazarus
went into No. 4, where "Bertram, Baring, and Co." was on the door—he said "That is not my office," and ran out—I next saw him at the Court after he was arrested—I have seen the bills since, in France—I have never received any money or value for them—it was on the faith of his representation that he was a clerk in the Comptoir D'Escompte that I gave him the bills to get discounted.
Cross-examined. I was in Boulogne last week; I have been there a fortnight—I was there before November 9—he was introduced to me as a young man employed in the Comptoir D'Escompte—theprisoner said so also, and Madame Petit heard him—she is a woman I used to employ, who used to come to my shop—I hope she is a respectable person—my traveller travelled for me in wine—I am agent for several houses in France—I do not know where the traveller is; he robbed me dreadfully—Madame Petit did not rob me, but there is something else; I don't want to make her acquaintance—she keeps a shop, if you like to call it so—I did not go to her and ask her to say that she heard the prisoner say that he was a clerk at the Comptoir D'Escompte; what business should I have to say what was not true?—I had no business to do with her; she was a friend of the prisoner—I did not go and ask her to be a witness or see her about the case—the prisoner said that he would get the bills discounted; not that he would try to do so—mine is a very fine shop; there was not a distress there, but I have closed it since—I went to the Comptoir D'Escompte the week afterwards—the prisoner did not come to me two or three days after I gave him the bills and speak to me about them; he never came—I did not supply him with stamps in Madame Petit's presence, nor did he then say that he had not been able to get them discounted; I never saw him—from what I heard I went to Lavondier, who is not here; I wish he was—I did not say that if Lavondier would take the bills I would take 3l. in money and the rest in goods—Lavondier does not sell the kind of goods which I use in my shop; he keeps an office and cellar like those French swindlers—I did not get the prisoner to put "Comptoir D'Escompte" on the receipt; that is a thing I should do another time—Madame Petit can also prove that he mentioned the Comptoir D'Escompte—when he mentioned a person to discount the bills I did not know that it was Lavondier.
Re-examined. I am going to re-open my business next Saturday—I am very anxious to see Lavondier—I have applied for a warrant against him, but he has gone abroad—Madame Petit is not a friend of mine at present.
JESS ARTHUR ARMSTRONG . I am English correspondent at the Comptoir D'Escompte, 52, Threadneedle Street, and have been engaged there a good many years—I do not know the prisoner; he has never been employed there—I do not know whether he has been employed in Paris.
ERNEST LAZARUS . On 13th October I went with Madame Hess to 22, Smith Street, Clerkenwell, and saw the prisoner—I told him we had come to demand the bills he had of Madame Hess—he said "I have not got the bills; they are at my office"—she asked him in French to write down where his office was; he refused, and said he would come in the morning and make a proposal to her—she said that she did not want his proposal—we saw him next morning outside 4, Finsbury Market, with three bundles of wood in his arms—when he saw us he turned round and commenced walking away; we followed him—he turned round, and I
asked him for the bills; he made no reply—I left him in the hall with Madame Hess, and went up to the first floor of No. 4—the name of Baring was up, but there was nothing in the room—I went down again and he had run away; we followed him.
JAMES HOLDEN (Detective C). On 17th October I went to 22, Smith Street, Clerkenwell, saw the prisoner, and told him I had a warrant for his arrest—he said that he could not understand English—I read the warrant and his wife translated it—I took him to the station, searched his room, and found a number of letters and other papers in his pocket book at the station, signed De la Rue and Co., to firms abroad, asking for samples of goods—I also found several letters at 4, Finsbury Market, where "Baring and Co." was on the door; they are communications with a man named Lavondier—some are signed "Brisso" and some "Joan and Co.," all in the same writing—I found on him a letter which he had written to Madame Hess, but not posted.
Cross-examined. I said that it was a case of fraud for two bills—he said "I have not got the bills and had none of the money for them"—that was the first thing he said—he has been in custody ever since. Witness for the Defence.
MARIAN PETIT . I keep a shop at 30, Shaftesbury Avenue—I know Madame Hess—I was present when she gave the prisoner two bills—I heard all that was said—the prisoner did not say that he was employed at the Comptoir D'Escompte—Mr. Prunier was there—Madame Hess said "Will you pass those bills through the bank?"—the prisoner said "I will pass them through my bank if the references are good"—nothing was said about what bank it was—I saw the bills—a few days afterwards I was with Madame Hess at Brisso's place, who said "The references are not good, and you cannot have the money from the bank; I will try again and give them to another gentleman"—nothing was said about the Comptoir D'Escompte—Madame Hess afterwards saw Brisso at my place—he asked for a stamp to put on the bills, and she gave him one, and said "If you can give me 4l. or 5l. in money I will take the rest in goods"—he said that he would give the bills to Lavondier, and she said "Yes"—I am not a friend of Brisso's—on the day Madame Hess had first been to the Court she called on me, and said "Do you remember if Mr. Brisso said he was employed at the Comptoir D'Escompte?"—I said "No, I do not"—she said "If you heard so will you be a witness?"—I said "If I am a witness I will tell the truth," and she did not call me.
Cross-examined. Mr. Newton, the prisoner's solicitor, asked me last week to come here as a witness—I knew that the case was on at the police-court twice, but I did not go there—a week after Madame Hess gave me the bills she came and asked me to go to see him—I was a great friend of hers, but I did not know Brisso, and I have only been to his place once since—the second interview was in my place about a week after—I am certain a bank was mentioned at the first interview—they could not have said anything about the Comptoir D'Escompte without my hearing it—the prisoner was not a friend of mine, but he called in once to see me when he was passing.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, November 23rd, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DILL Prosecuted.
JAMES HURLEY (Policeman YR 25). On 22nd October I received the prisoner in custody—I said "A woman wishes to give you into custody for bigamy, where is the second woman you married?"—he said "Here she is," pointing to a woman by his side—his first wife was present, and produced a marriage certificate—the prisoner said "I have not seen her for about 12 years, and some time ago I saw Mr. Hosack at Clerkenwell and asked him if I could marry again, as I had not seen my wife for so long a time, and believed her dead; I had three children born by the woman that I was living with, and wished to have some children born in wedlock"—I asked the second wife to produce her certificate—she did so, and then I went to the station with him—I have compared the two certificates with the original register; they are true copies. (The first certificate was of the marriage on 20th March, 1871, of Frederick Holt and Ellin Caroline Briggs at St. Giles's, Cripplegate, and the second on 30th July, 1885, at St. Mary's, Newington, of George Frederick Molt, widower, and Rachel Poole, widow, after banns.)
LETITIA WATH . I am the wife of Walter Wath, a carman—I am the prisoner's wife's sister—I was present at her marriage to the prisoner in 1871—a few weeks after marriage they separated—I have seen the prisoner frequently since the separation—he has asked after his wife, how she was, and how many children she had—he knew she was living with Jim Nunn—she had children by Nunn, and I told the prisoner so.
Cross-examined. I saw you last three years ago—you saw me with my mother in the London Road—I saw you in your shop in the Kent Road, and drank with you three times in a month—you showed me the ring of the person you were living with in 1883; you said you had three children by her—you said you wished your wife was dead so that you might marry the other—you were always fighting—it is 15 years since your wife lived with Jim Nunn, who is a soldier—she lived with you five weeks at first—my mother took her away because she was nearly dying with inflammation—she is alive and in Court.
SARAH BRIGGS . I live at 60, Palmerston Road, Battersea Park Road, and am the mother of Ellen Caroline Holt and of the last witness—I was present at her marriage—they separated within a month of the marriage, because the prisoner ill used her—eight or nine weeks after they came together again—I have seen the prisoner several times since, and had conversation with him with regard to his wife—he always asked how she was and how she was getting on—I said as well as could be expected, because she was ill—she had several children by the man she was living with; she is in Court—the conversation took place as late as 18 months ago, when I saw him last—before that I saw him three years ago in the London Road in my daughter's presence—he asked after his wife, and said if he had not been married he could have married a woman with a good business; that was in 1885; I don't know the date—I think it must have been very early in the spring, because it was very cold.
Cross-examined. I saw you in the London Road and drank with you in the South London public-house adjoining the Music Hall—I cannot remember if a man or woman served us.
RACHEL POOLE . I live at 34, Drummond Street, St. Pancras—on 30th July I was married to the prisoner at St. Mary's, Newington—I lived with him till a month ago—we have lived very unhappily ever since we have been together—I have had five children by him, none born in wedlock; three died—I lived with him six years before our marriage—I was a widow, and had had six children before; four only were alive—his first wife gave him in charge through me—I never saw her till the 19th October this year—I knew he had been married, but only found out about six months ago that she was alive—he told me he had been married and could not agree with the woman, and that he had illused her till she left him—he said he should be a better man if I would go to church with him, and I thought if he went into church he might alter.
Cross-examined. You went to ask the Magistrate his advice; I don't know what he said—you helped to bring up my four children; we each worked—I have had no comfort since I lived with you—I never wanted to go into church with you; I begged you not to go to church—you have been cruel to me and my children.
The prisoner in his defence said that he had not seen his wife for 17 years, and believed she was dead, and that he went and asked a Magistrate's opinion before the second marriage took place.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury, as he had consulted a Magistrate. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. THOMAS Prosecuted.
PATRICKENRIGHT (Police Sergeant J). On 8th November, at 1.30 a.m., I was in plain clothes in the Mile End Road with Rosentreter and Osborne, and saw the prisoners and a third man—from their coming, together, and then parting, and then meeting again, I watched them for about 10 minutes, and then stopped, and Russell, searched him, and found concealed inside his coat this plated basket—he became very violent and endeavoured to get away—Brooks attempted to run away, but was captured by Roseutreter and Osborne; the third man got away—Russell appeared bulky—I felt him about the waist of his, trousers, and said "What have you got here?"—he said "Look for yourself"—I found this dish inside his trousers, which were buttoned over it—I took it out with difficulty; he was violent—I took him to the station; he was never out of my custody—I have no doubt about Brooks being the other man—they were conveyed to the station and charged with unlawful possession—from what I was told I went to the Bancroft Road and examined the house—I found an entry had been effected by forcing open the area window and opening the shutters inside the windows—I found several jemmy marks on the outer part of the window—the shutters were smashed—the prisoners were afterwards charged with breaking into the premises of Mr. Mordecai in Bancroft Road, and stealing property—Brooks
said "A man gave it to me to carry"—Russell said nothing—they were together at that time in the dock at the police-station.
JOHN ROSENTRETER (Policeman J 350). I was with Enright on this morning in Mile End Road in plain clothes, and watched Brooks and Russell, who were loitering about in a suspicious manner—I saw Enright take hold of Russell—Brooks was making off, and I seized him after running about 10 yards—I examined him; he had these plated dishes under his coat and in his coat pockets behind—he struggled violently to get away—I took him to the station.
FANNY MORDECAI . I am the wife of Samuel Mordecai—we live in the Bancroft Road, Mile End—I locked up our premises about a quarter to 1 between the night of the 7th and the morning of the 8th November—the area window and the shutters were shut and fastened—these articles are my husband's property—on the night of the 7th they were in a glass cupboard in the breakfast room in the basement; the room where this window was—about 1.30 I was awoke by a constable; the window was then open, the blind cut away, and the shutters burst open—these things were gone; their value is about 12l.
NATHAN BLOOM . I live at the Bancroft Road, and manage Mr. Mordecai's cigar business—on 8th November, about a quarter to 1 a.m., I fastened the shutters in the breakfast parlour downstairs—about 1.30 I was aroused, and found the shutters, burst open, and missed these goods.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate and in their defence said that two coloured men had offered them a half-sovereign to carry the things.
GUILTY . BROOKS*, RUSSELL†.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. DILL Prosecuted.
FRANCIS ENDSLEIGH . I live at 70, Bennington Street, Endell Street, and am a porter at Covent Garden Market—about 11.15 p.m. on 23rd Oct. I was standing at the corner of Neal Street with three others—the prisoner came up with two men, one of whom had a parcel under his arm—someone passing by said to one of them "Have you got a pair of trousers for sale?"—I had my back turned to the prisoner and the other two then—we went to go home, I had a dog in my hand and went to give it to the cabman it belonged to, who was one of the three with me—I gave him the dog and he was going home, when someone halloaed out "Look out, he has got a knife"—I turned round to the prisoner and said "If there was a policeman here I would give you in charge; what do you want to pull a knife out for?"—he turned round and made a stab at me—I put up my hand and caught the knife in my wrist—the prisoner then ran away up Shaftesbury Avenue—I ran after him; I got some distance before I knew I was stabbed—I ran up against a policeman,
who was just coming round the corner—I called the policeman to take the knife out of the prisoner's hand—he did so, and took him to Marlborough Street—he took me to Middlesex Hospital, where my wound was dressed—I am an out-patient there now—the hospital bandage is on my wrist, the wound is just in the sinews of my fingers.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner (through an Interpreter). It was just at the corner of Neal Street you wounded me—you never spoke to me at all.
By the COURT. I am not able to do much work yet—I ought to have gone to the hospital this morning.
BENJAMIN WILLIAM SHAUM . I am a card-case maker, of 45, Neal Street, Long Acre—I was with the prosecutor on 23rd October, at 11.20, at the corner of Neal Street—we and a friend had come out of a public-house in Great St. Andrew's Street about 11 o'clock—we were having an argument about a dog for about 20 minutes at the corner of Neal Street when the prisoner and two other men passed along—somebody said "How much for the old trousers?"—some strangers were going across the road—the prosecutor, I, and our friend went towards my door, when somebody on the opposite side said "Look out, he has got a penknife out"—we turned round and I saw the prisoner make a plunge at Endsleigh, who halloaed out "I am stabbed"—the prisoner ran away up Shaftesbury Avenue; a policeman stopped him and took the knife (produced) out of his hand, open—there had been no scuffle before the stabbing—I did not see the knife till the policeman took it from the prisoner's hand; it was then open.
SAMUEL BYWATER . I am a painter's labourer, of 2, King's Head Yard, Short's Gardens—on 23rd October, about 11.15, I was with Endsleigh and Shaum at the corner of Neal Street—some people came along and said "How much for the old pair of trousers?" or something like that—going towards home somebody crossed the road and said "Mind the knife"—looking round I saw the prisoner with a knife in his hand; something was shining, I daresay it was the blade—the prosecutor said he was stabbed, and then the prisoner ran up Shaftesbury Avenue—a constable took this knife out of his hand at the top of the avenue—the prosecutor ran after the prisoner.
GEORGE EDWARD JOHNS (Policeman C 115). On 23rd October, about 11.20, I was on duty in Shaftesbury Avenue, and saw the prisoner on the ground and the prosecutor on top of him—the prosecutor said the prisoner had stabbed him with a knife—the prisoner had this knife in his right hand—I took it from him—it was open, and notched like this—the prosecutor was bleeding from his wrist—the prisoner seemed' to be in a very excited state of fear, he did not seem under the influence of drink, nor was the prosecutor at all.
By the JURY. The knife was dry.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "A thing like this never happened before, and will never, I hope, happen again. They insulted us, I ran away, and when I found I was on the ground I used the knife in self-defence."
Witnesses for the Defence.
FRANCESCO TUSSO (Interpreted). I am a mason, living at 62, Neal Street—I was coming back from work, and stopped in front of my door when some people (I cannot say if the prosecutor was one) struck me twice, and I was suddenly taken by fear and ran away, and saw nothing more—I
did not see you wound the prosecutor, I saw him get to you, but I ran away.
GUSMEO D'ELLERE . I live at 62, Neal Street, the same house as the prisoner, and am a cook out of work—we were going home to sleep about 11 p.m., when five Englishmen came up and struck Tusso and threw him on the ground—then the prisoner took his defence, and the five of them jumped on the prisoner—the prosecutor is one of the five—they threw the prisoner on the ground, then I and Tusso ran away—I saw no knife.
The prisoner in his defence said that he was speaking to his friends outside his house when some one pushed against him and said "What b—language these men are speaking!" that they got the prisoner and his companions into the middle of them and said "What are you doing here; go into your b——country;" that they did not answer, but Pried to get into their house, when one of the Englishmen struck one of the Italians and threw him on the ground; that the five put themselves in a position to fight him, and seeing that his friends had run, he tried to run also to find a policeman; that they ran after him, and tripped him up, and that being taken by fear, he called for a policeman, and taking out the knife, made a backward movement with it, but that he could not understand how my wound was caused.
FRANCIS ENDSLEIGH (Re-examined). I don't remember seeing D'Ellere there—I don't believe they were there at all—there were only three of them, one a very tall man—I did not jump on the prisoner—the constable found me on him, when I got hold of him and threw him down I was on him, I fell down with him in Shaftesbury Avenue; he stabbed me at the corner of Neal Street—he was running about like a madman, flourishing his knife about—we could not get near him because of the knife till he saw the constable coming, then he stopped and I got on top of him.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT—Thursday, November 24th, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MR. POLAND and MR. CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted;
MR. DUX Defended.
IRWIN MAGIN (Policeman C 240). About 11.20 on the night of 29th October I was on duty in Charing Cross Road, and was called to a lodging-house, and there saw the deputy keeper and the prisoner, who was under the influence of drink—he was sitting on a seat, and was swearing and wanting to fight—the deputy said he had no right there, as he had not paid his lodgings, and he asked me to assist him in putting him out—I then persuaded the prisoner to go to the top of the stairs—he then refused to go any farther until he had fought the deputy, and I then caught hold of his left arm and the deputy went to the other ride, and we put him out—I then advised him to go away quietly, and left him—after that I was called to a shop in Cranbourne Street; I was in uniform with a badge round my arm—I was going towards there, and had got within 20 yards of the shop when I suddenly felt a blow at the right side of my
neck, and immediately my mouth was filled with blood, and I put up my hand to my neck, and found it was blood—I turned round and saw the prisoner running away from me—I threw off my cape and ran after him and caught him at the corner of Charing Cross Road and Cranbourne Street, and he then fell down—I blew my whistle for assistance and kept the prisoner on the ground, but no constable came, and feeling myself becoming weaker, I asked a man to get a cab, and with his assistance I went to the hospital—I could not hold the prisoner any longer, and directly I got in the cab and left hold of him he ran away—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man that I turned out of the lodging house—I next saw him in the yard of the police-station after I came out of the hospital—I was six days an in-patient, and I am still on the sick list—the prisoner was standing amongst others when I saw him, and I identified him as the man who had assaulted me.
Cross-examined. He was not very drunk, nor violent, but he used violent words and was excited—I did not see the deputy strike the prisoner at all—the prisoner resisted when we put him out—we had to use some violence, but not a considerable amount—he swore at the keeper—I advised the prisoner to go home, and then thought no more of him until I was forcibly reminded—I don't recollect saying after I had caught the prisoner, "Good God, what is the matter with my neck!"
JOHN MORRIS . I live at 57, Castle Street, Charing Cross Road, and am deputy keeper of that lodging-house—about 11.15 p.m. on Saturday, 29th October last, the prisoner was there drunk, and was creating a disturbance; I sent for the constable to have him turned out—he had paid his money up to that night—when constable Magin came the prisoner was very obstinate, and I assisted in turning him out—he would not go upon persuasion, and then we took hold of him and put him out—no violence was used; the constable acted more as a father to him; he was very kind to him—before the constable came, about 11 o'clock, I had noticed a kind of scratch over one of the prisoner's eyes from which blood was oozing.
Cross-examined. He has lived in this lodging-house I should say three months—I have had a row with him once before; that was when he was drunk, and I was assisting him upstairs to bed, and he struck me in the face—he was very drunk on this night—I did not use any slipper to him, or strike him—he did not resist going out, but he did not go out quietly—he did not swear at me; he is a man that does not use bad language, and there is not a quieter man in the house when he is not in drink, but when he is in drink he is very quarrelsome—as a rule tailors get drunk on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.
HENRY PRITCHARD . I am a coach-builder's labourer living at 59, Charing Cross Road—on Saturday night, 29th October, I saw the prosecutor in Charing Cross Road—when he got to the corner of Charing Cross Road and Cranbourne Street, the prisoner ran up behind him, and stabbed him a blow with his clenched fist in the side of the neck, and then ran away—the constable then threw off his cape, and ran after him—I picked up the cape and followed them—when the constable got up to the prisoner he fell, and then went to get up again, and the constable kept him down—I then looked at the constable's neck, and said "You are stabbed in the neck," and he asked me to get a cab,
and I assisted him to the hospital—the prisoner then ran away, and about 5 o'clock the same morning I saw him at Vine Street Police-station, and identified him as the man who had stabbed the constable.
JAMES EDWARDS . I am a porter, and live at 7, Devonshire Street, Theobald's Road—on this night I was with my wife in Charing Cross Road, and saw the police constable walking along, and then saw some one come up behind him, and strike him in the side of the neck, but I did not see what it was with—I afterwards saw the man who had struck him, and identified him as the prisoner.
Cross-examined. It was too dark to see whether or not the man was smoking who ran up.
FREDERICK SOAPER (Policeman E 155). About 3.30 on the morning of 30th October I was on duty in the Seven Dials, and in consequence of information I received I went to 29, Castle Street, and there saw the prisoner—I told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of stabbing Police Constable 240 C on the previous night, Saturday the 29th, in Charing Cross Road—he said he knew nothing about it—he was then drunk—I afterwards searched him, and found two knives and two bodkins—one is a pen-knife, and one a pocket knife.
Cross-examined. The knives had dirt upon them, but I did not see any blood—there was no blood upon the bodkins—there was a pipe lying on the table when I arrested the prisoner, and he asked me to let him take it, but I would not, because I thought he wanted it for smoking purposes, and they are generally taken away at the police-station—I could not say whether it was a wooden or clay pipe.
GEORGE PIGGOTT BARTON . I am house physician at Charing Cross Hospital—on this Saturday night, between 11 and 12, I was present when the constable was brought there bleeding from a small wound at the side of the neck, and blood was also coming from the mouth—it was just such a wound as might have been inflicted with the blade of a knife, either of these knives might have produced it—it was a dangerous part, being near the large vessels of the neck—I don't see the possibility of a pointed clay pipe or an amber-pointed pipe producing such a wound.
Cross-examined. It was a straight incised wound—there was no confusion outside the wound—I did not fit either of the knives or bodkins with the wound—it was done with something with a sharp edge.
EDWIN BOWER . I am house surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital—I saw the constable on Sunday morning, the 30th, about 10 o'clock, and he remained under my care until 4th November, and he is still an out-patient—it was such a wound as might have been caused with a pen-knife—it must have been an extraordinary pipe to have caused such a wound, and it must have been done with some force.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I say that I am not guilty. I struck him with the pipe in my hand when he knocked me in the eye, and gave me a black eye, and also kicked me."
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, November 24th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
33. ALFRED JOHNSTONE to unlawfully altering an order for 70l. to 76l., with intent to defraud. He received an excellent character, and the prosecutor recommended him to mercy.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
CHARLES COOPER . I am porter to John Scott, fruiterer, of Drury Lane—on 10th November I locked up the shop—I returned next morning at 6.30 and found the door open—I missed two cases and eight barrels of grapes, which were there the previous night—I told my master, and then walked round and saw the prisoners Hussey and Tovey at the bottom of White Horse Yard with a barrow, on which were the eight barrels and two cases—I said to Tovey "I want you"—he said "What for?" and walked away—I saw Hussey putting the grapes straight, on the barrow—I afterwards saw Jordan coming out of a lodging-house with a barrel of grapes—he walked away—my master sleeps in the house.
Cross-examined by Tovey. It was half-past eight when I saw you.
JOHN SCOTT . I am a fruiterer, of 119, Drury Lane—I live there—on 10th November I shut up my street door and my shop window at 6.30, and next morning my porter made a communication to me, and I missed eight barrels and two boxes of grapes, which I afterwards saw on a barrow in Stanhope Street, about 150 yards from my shop, with seven of my barrels and two cases on it—I spoke to a constable, and had the grapes taken back to my shop—I went with Cooper to a public-house in Russell Court, saw Jordan, and gave him in custody—the same morning, about 10 o'clock, Tovey came to my shop and said that Cooper had charged him with breaking into the shop and stealing these grapes—I said "You go to Bow Street and inform them what you know about it," which he did, and he was given in custody.
HENRY DONEY (Policeman E 39). On 11th November I went to 119, Drury Lane, and saw that the street door had been forced open; there were two distinct marks of a jemmy on it—the top bolt had been forced away from the woodwork—I went to White Horse Yard, Stanhope Street, and saw seven barrels and two boxes of grapes on a costermonger's barrow—I found Jordan in a public-house, and told him I should take him for being concerned with others in stealing grapes—he said "I know nothing about the grapes."
ALBERT PEDDER (Detective E). On 11th November, about 10 a.m., Tovey came to the station and said "I am told that I am wanted for the job at Scott's in Drury Lane: I went to Mr. Scott's, and saw him and the foreman, Charles Cooper"—as I was coming round White Horse Yard Charles Cooper said "You are one; I want you"—he saw another chap and said "You are another"—I said "What do you mean?"—he said "It is all right; here comes another with a barrow," and with that he went through the court—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with the others—the charge was read over to him; he made no reply.
I went to a common lodging-house in Drury Lane and found Hussey—I told him the charge—he said "I know nothing about it; I was talking to a man in White Horse Yard when Scott's man came up and said something; I can prove that I was in bed all night and got up at six o'clock, and went to Paddington Market"—he was taken to the station, and Cooper identified him.
Cross-examined by Hussey. You asked the deputy to come to the police-court, and I asked him also, but he refused.
Jordan's Defence. I had nothing to do; I should hardly have sold the shirt off my back if I had money. I have had no shirt since.
Hussey in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that he was in bed all night and got up at six a.m. and met Tovey.
Tovey's Defence. If I was guilty I should not have gone to the station, I should have waited till I was called. Cooper is jealous of me about a young woman, and he said he would pay me.
By the COURT. She was cuddling me, and Tovey's brother came and hit me on the back of my head—I did not threaten to take revenge on Tovey for telling his brother: I have even got him jobs in the summer on the same jobs as myself—I did not say "I will have him one way if I do not have him another."
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
There was another indicment against Jordan for burglary.
RAVEN Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILLIS Prosecuted.
ALFRED WILLIAMS . On 29th October, about midnight, I was walking home from marketing with my wife—as we passed Rodney Street I saw a woman attacked by a gang of roughs—I was knocked down; I struggled to get up, and held a person who was kicking me, not the prisoner—my wife screamed "Murder!" and "Police!" and the prisoner suddenly sprang out of the crowd and dug me under my eye with some sharp instrument—I halloaed out "Oh, my God! I am stabbed"—a policeman came up and the prisoner made a plunge at him with the instrument in his hand—the people shouted out "He has got a knife!"—the policeman knocked him down—he got up, and the policeman and I chased him; he went into a cab-yard and then into the street again, and was taken in custody—I bled profusely and was very weak; my clothes were saturated right to my under-shirt—when we had the prisoner in custody a gang of 50 or 60 came round and said "There is only one of them, let us settle him"—the policeman knocked some of them down and blew his whistle—I helped to take the prisoner to the station, and afterwards went to the hospital and had my wound stitched up, and went again on the Sunday morning to have it re-dressed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My name is Williams, not Stansfield—I
never saw you before—I did not strike you—I have suffered very much, and have lost the sight of one eye.
MARY WILLIAMS . I am the wife of the last witness—I was going home with him at midnight; the mob rushed on him, and he was knocked down, but got up again—we struggled with them, and I saw the prisoner go behind my husband and strike him—the people halloaed out "He has got a knife"—a policeman got hold of him, but he slipped away, and went to a cab-yard, through some big gates, and into the road again—I saw my husband and a policeman trying to hold him—I am sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. My husband did not strike you before you went behind him and struck him.
THOMAS GATSIN (Policeman A 548). Early on the morning of October 30th I was on duty and heard cries of "Murder!" and "Police!"—I ran up and saw a large crowd assembled at a doctor's door with another case—I got into the middle of it, and saw a lot of roughs—Williams complained to me—I dispersed the crowd, and saw the prisoner go up behind him and stab or strike him in the eye—I saw something like a knife in his hand, and Williams said "I am stabbed"—I tried to catch hold of the prisoner; he made a stab at me, and I knocked him down—he got up and ran; I followed him through a cab-yard into Rodney Street, and caught him in Tufton Street—I asked him where the knife was which he stabbed the prosecutor with—he said "I do not carry any knife in my pocket"—I said" I have not referred to a knife in your pocket; I am referring to a knife with which you stabbed the prosecutor"—Williams came up with his face bleeding; he helped to hold the prisoner—the mob followed us and said "There is only one"—I knocked one or two of them back—Williams might have had a glass or two, but he was perfectly sober.
HEBBR CALDWELL . I am resident medical officer of Westminster Hospital—on 30th October, about a quarter to 1, I was called up and saw Williams; he had a contusion on his left eye, and a clean cut under his right eye, which was bleeding profusely—I should say that the wound was done with a sharp instrument; it went down to the bone—he has not sustained any great injury—the same eye had been injured previously—he seemed perfectly sober.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The prosecutor's face was bleeding even before I hit him, and he struck me, so I struck him back."
Prisoner's Defence. I saw the prosecutor fighting with somebody else, who I believe was some relation. He came up to me after the policeman had dispersed the crowd, and struck me; whether he mistook me for somebody else I do not know. I struck him again, and the policeman knocked me down. I got up and ran away, but the policeman took me.
THOMAS GATSIN (Re-examined). I saw no signs on the prisoner of his having been knocked down—his nose was not bleeding—I advised Williams to go away, and he never went near the prisoner, but the prisoner went up and struck him.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and FULTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. OVEREND Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
The proceedings at the County Court nothing put in, the RECORDER considered that there was no evidence that what the prisoner swore was material to the issue, and therefore directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 24th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
LEONARD HALSEY . I am manager to Charles Deakin, who keeps the Angel and Crown public-house, 58, St. Martin's Lane—about 3 o'clock on the morning of 9th November I was aroused by a policeman ringing was open; it is a swing fanlight, and was forced out of its socket; one side was hanging down—the night before I had fastened it myself—I had gone to bed at a quarter-past 1; everything was safe then—I had left about 7s. or 8s., in copper in bowls, one by the entrance of the, doorway to the private staircase, and the other round the far side of the bar, both behind the counter—in the morning I found every farthing of it gone—that money belonged to Mr. Deakin, my employer.
FREDERICK ELLIS (Policeman E 146). About 3 o'clock on the morning of 9th November I was on duty in St. Martin's Lane—I noticed the high in the bar of the Angel and Crown was turned on full, which was unusual—I looked over the window, and into the private bar and saw the prisoner lying on the floor—I rang the bell, and Mr. Halsey came down and gave the prisoner into my custody—I took him to the station, and he was charged—after that I searched, and found on him 7s. 8 1/2 d. in bronze in his trousers pocket, and farthings and halfpence in his jacket pocket—I also found a box of silent matches—about a yard from where I saw the prisoner I found a packet of French bronze, 2s., 10 1/2 d. in a paper bag—the fanlight was wide open, and forced out of its socket, lying on the sash; there was room for some one to come through—I examined the premises and found footmarks on the window sill, and on the gas bracket outside—when I found the prisoner lying on the floor, Halsey said "How did you Ket there?"—he said "A man pushed me through the fanlight"—afterwards he denied it—at the station he said "I got through myself," when I asked him how he got there.
don't include it in the coppers I have spoken of—it was put aside as of no use.
GUILTY .*†— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAM HANCOCK . I am a builder and contractor of Christchurch Road, Brondesbury—the prisoner is a mason, and has executed contracts for me—on several occasions I have paid him by bills, cheques, and cash—on 5th November I sent my son to my bankers, Lacy and Hartland, 60, West Smithfield, with a cheque for wages, and he brought back my passbook and this document (produced)—the body of it and the endorsement are in the prisoner's writing—the acceptance is not mine, nor with my authority—I cannot swear whose writing it is; it does not resemble mine at all (The bill was "Three months after date pay to my order 25 l. for value received" signed "George Truscott, junior" addressed to "Mr. Hancock, accepted payable at Lacy, Hartland and Co., 60, West Smithfield, William Hancock" and endorsed" G. Truscott, junior")—that was honoured by my bankers, and I was charged with the 25l. by them—I have had bills drawn by the prisoner that have been paid—I made a charge against him—I saw him at the station on 5th November—he said he had no intention to defraud—I sent the bills to my bankers, and they sent it to the London and County Bank, the prisoner's bankers.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I swear I had given you no authority whatever to raise money for me—I wrote this letter to you (The prisoner read a letter of 3rd October, 1886)—I did not write that in answer to a letter from you saying you could not raise money—I have not got the previous letter—I did not write this letter because I was annoyed at you not being able to raise money—I did not say at the police-court I gave you a bill and money which you stuck to—on February 17th you drew bills for 25l. and 50l.—I said "That is more than you are entitled to"—you said "I will bring your bill back for 50l., and you can hold that"—I never got it back; then I had to work it back by this contract—this bill was certainly not to pay a post-dated cheque that I gave you previously—I did not give you a post-dated cheque for work you had done for me in Warwick Lane—the 17th February bill is a genuine one.
Re-examined. I never gave the prisoner authority to put my name on the back of a bill.
By the Prisoner. I cannot explain at this moment why I wrote that letter to you, that would not authorise you to forge my name.; this is not the only one.
ALFRED ERNEST HANCOCK . I am the son of the last witness—on 5th November I went to Messrs. Lacy and Hartland, where I received the pass book; in it was this bill—I gave it to my father—I know the prisoner's writing—the body of this, the drawer's name, and endorsement are in his writing—I don't know the writing of the acceptance.
SAMUEL GURNEY . I live at the Skiddaw Hotel, 46, Chippenham Road, Harrow Road, and am manager to William Guest, the proprietor—occasionally he discounted bills to oblige customers; very seldom—the prisoner gave me this bill on 5th August, and asked me if I would oblige him by getting it discounted—I said I would try—he said he wanted it for wages, "I hope you will get it to-day if you can"—I sent it on to Mr.
Guest, who was unwell at the time—I gave the prisoner 20l. on account about half an hour after he brought me the bill—I saw him every day after that till he was charged—on 2nd November he came in about 12 o'clock, and asked me to pick up the bill—I said "I will if I can, but I am afraid you are too late; I will ask Mr. Guest as soon as I can see him"—the prisoner gave me 25l.—the bill fell due on 2nd November—I saw Mr. Guest, and asked him to pick up the bill, but the bill was passed through—I went to Mr. Guest's bank, the London and County, Harrow Road, and paid the money in for them to pick the bill up in case it came back—it was too late, the bill was passed through—I left the money there in case the bill came back—the prisoner had never previously to that asked me not to present the bill—the bill was paid in on let November.
Cross-examined. I knew nothing of the acceptor; I really trusted you customer—I did not know the bill was a forgery—I suppose I have discounted 100l. for you before as far as I know—I could not say if we could have trusted you again but for this—if we had found it all right I dare say we should have done it again.
By the COURT. The prisoner came in about 12 o'clock—I could not get to the London and County Bank till five minutes past 1.
WILLIAM ENGHAM . I am a cashier to Messrs. Lacy, Hartland, and Co., bankers, of Smithfield—this bill came to us through the London and County Bank, and we paid it on 2nd November at midday—it was left at 11 o'clock and called for again at 1 o'clock—I looked at it when it came—there is a similarity to Mr. Hancock's writing about it; it is not in his writing, but it was near enough to-deceive me.
WILLIAM SMITH (Police Sergeant X). I arrested the prisoner on 5th November about 9 o'clock in Chippenham Road, Paddington—I told him that Mr. Hancock charged him with forging and uttering a bill for 25l.—he said "Can I see Mr. Gurney?"—I said "Yes, at the station"—at the station the charge was read to him, and he said "I did not intend to defraud; I gave Mr. Gurney 25l. to meet the bill, and asked him not to present the bill."
SAMUEL GURNEY (Re-examined). The prisoner came to me some time in October and asked me to negotiate this bill for 25l.—I said "Well, is the other all right"—he said "Yes, it will be all right"—I said "Very well, I will try and get this one done for you."—I got it done for him, and gave him the money—I gave him 20l. on account—it was for three months, and will be due on 3rd January. (This bill was addressed to William Hancoch by George Truscott, jun., endorsed by G. Truscott, jun.) When the prisoner gave me the 25l., and I found I could not get the other bill back, he said I had better keep it for this one.
The prisoner in his defence said that he thought he could use Hancock's name, and that he had no intention to defraud, as was shown by his paying in the money on the day the bill became due.
GUILTY of uttering.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury, because of his attempt to make reparation. — Three Months' Hard Labour ,
43. CYRIL GREENFIELD (16) to unlawfully obtaining from Thomas Ashton, a bicycle by false pretences, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a bicycle from Robert Urquhart, and to stealing a waistcoat and other articles and 8l. 15s., the goods and money of Richard Sewell, in his dwelling-house.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three Weeks' Hard Labour and Twelve Strokes with a Birch Rod.
44. JOHN HENRY MOORE (17) and ARTHUR WELLS (15) to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Hewitt, and stealing an order for the payment of a shilling, three postage-stamps, and 7l. 7s., the goods and money of William Wakeham; and RICHARD MOORE (17) to receiving that money after a conviction of felony in December, 1886. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] RICHARD MOORE*.— Six Months' Hard Labour. JOHN HENRY MOORE.—— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
WELLS— Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Friday, November 25th, 1887.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
47. SYDNEY HERBERT JONES (21) , Feloniously sending to Mary Heaton a letter threatening to murder. Other Counts for demanding money with menaces; he was also indicted for a robbery with violence on Mary Jane Symonds, and stealing 1l. 0s. 9d.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted.
DAVID BANNER . I am a porter, and live at 9, Lloyd's Row, St. John's Street Road—on 22nd October last I saw the prisoner near the Angel at Islington; I did not know him before—he came up to me and asked if I could give him a night's lodging or could show him some lodging house, and I showed him a coffee-house in Myddelton Street—he then began to say that some one was going to murder him—I said, "What makes you think so, have you been doing anything wrong?"—he said, "No"—I said "Then what makes you frightened?"—I thought he was not right in his mind—he said he was very queer, and I told him he would be near the hospital if he took lodgings there—he then went to his brother's in Royston Street, and I followed him and saw him go into the passage, but I did not see his brother—I went with him because he was so strange in his manner, and he begged of me to go with him—he then came out and said his brother would not give him any lodging, and asked me if I would go a little farther with him, as he was sure something would happen to him—I went with him to a friend of his in Peter Street, and he asked him if he would let him sit in his chair, but he said it was not convenient—the friend then asked me if I would accompany the prisoner home to his wife and explain
his ways and manners to her, but when I got there his wife was not at home—he then opened the front window and got in, and after he had shut the window down I went away, but came back again, as I thought I would see if things were all right, and he was then gone; and then I met him coming round the corner from the landlord's, and a man living opposite opened the street door with his key, then burst the prisoner's door open—the prisoner asked if we would go round the house, as there was somebody in the house going to murder him, and we went and looked in all the rooms, but saw nobody except the three children in bed already dressed—I and the other party then Game out and bid the prisoner good night—he then begged me not to follow him any more, and I said I would not—he then came out with the children—the girl seemed to be about three years old; he was carrying her in his arms; and the boys seemed to be four or five years old—he went on with the children towards the bridge, and I followed behind; and he deliberately threw the female child into the water, and was going to get hold of one of the little boys when I popped up—the prisoner then ran to the other side of the bridge and jumped over, and I saw him fall on the path—I called out "Police!" and a lady looked out of a window close at hand and then called her husband, and Mr. Osborne came out and rescued the child—a police constable came up and blew his whistle, and another policeman then came, and they searched for the prisoner, and shined on their lamps and saw him in a sitting position against the wall about 15 yards from the bridge.
By the COURT. I said before the Magistrate, "I had never seen the prisoner before that evening; he was talking as if he was out of his mind, or else I should not have followed him."
BENJAMIN OSBORNE . I am an engineer, living at 22, Wharf Road, City Road—on 22nd October, about 1 a.m., I was in bed and my wife shook me by the shoulders, and in consequence of what she said I went to the window and looked out and saw Banner standing on the bridge with two little children—he was calling "Police!" and "Murder!"—I at once dressed myself and went out, and in consequence of what Banner told me I ran down the bank and jumped into the canal and rescued the female child, and took her to the Star public-house, where the landlady attended to it—it was dressed and had a bonnet on—I then returned to the canal, and having procured a boat, I and the constable rowed across and found the prisoner lying on the towpath; he was quite wet, but he was not hurt—he walked to the station—from the crown of the bridge to the tow-path is 25 feet—I did not hear what the constable said to the prisoner because I was getting cold, with my wet clothes on, but I heard the prisoner say that he and the child had dropped from the bridge—the water is 5 feet 6 inches deep there.
TURNER HARWOOD (Policeman G 279). On 22nd October, about 1 a.m., I was on duty in Vincent Terrace, about a quarter of a mile from this bridge, I heard a whistle and ran towards the bridge and saw Banner there with the two children, and in consequence of what he said to me I turned my light on to the towing-path and saw the prisoner sitting there from lo to 20 yards from the bridge—I then went with Osborne, in a boat up to where the prisoner was, and spoke to him, and he said "Me and my child slipped from the top; we were both thrown over; my life is a misery; they say I am jealous of my wife"—I then took him to the station—we had to go
in the boat because we could not find the keys to open the gate to get down the side where the prisoner was.
FREDERICK WILLIAM MITCHELL (Police Inspector). I was on duty at Upper Street Police-station on 22nd October, about 1 a.m., when the prisoner's child, Kate Reynolds, was brought in—she was wrapped in a blanket, and was quite naked, and appeared to be very cold—the prisoner was brought in at the same time, and he was charged with attempting to murder the child—he said "I was thrown over the bridge by somebody I do not know; they say I have been getting the men the sack and they are foxing me"—he was wet through, and his clothes were all taken off, and then ho was put in a cell—he appeared to me then to have the appearance of a man who had been drinking heavily; he was not drunk at that time—the witness Banner was drunk, but he gave a clear account of what transpired—he was confused about the time; he thought then it was 11.30 and it was 2 o'clock when I asked him that question.
PHILLIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon at Holloway Gaol—I examined the prisoner on the next morning after his admission there; he was then restless and strange, and had many delusions of being followed by people and being watched, and he was under the delusion that he was to be killed in the course of a year, that it was through him his fellow workmen were getting the sack, and that he heard voices whispering to him that he was to die—I have had him under observation for a month, and having seen his family I came to the conclusion that at the time he was admitted he was insane, and therefore was insane at the time he committed this crime—he is very much better now since, he has been taken away from his associations, but I still consider his intellect is somewhat impaired—I am of opinion that at the time he committed this act he did not know he was doing wrong, or that he was trying to commit murder.
ELIZA SMITH . I live at 29, Sotherton Street, Caledonian Road, and am the mother of the prisoner—on Jubilee Sunday I saw him; he was then very excited in his manner—I saw him again on 13th August, he then made rambling statements to me about his work; he said that they had put him on piecework, and he did not think he would suit them, and he would leave—he did not seem to like the job at all, and seemed unsettled in his mind at the shop—on 21st August I saw him again, and ho then said he did not like the shop—on 27th August I saw him again, and ho then said he had given up his job, and was looking for new work—on 19th October I saw him again, and he then asked me if I had heard he had been pushed under a van—I told him "No," and he said he had not long to live, his 12 months was very nigh up—he also said his wife had been up to the shop, and had set the men to chaff him—on the Wednesday he appeared as if he had had a glass or two.
CHARLES REYNOLDS . I am a coach painter, of 14, Clement's Street, Barnsbury, and am the prisoner's brother—in Jubilee week I saw the prisoner, and he then appeared rather strange—I said to him "What is the matter with you?" and he said "I am haunted," and said he was being followed about by people—about the beginning of August he was out of work, and I gave him a job; I then noticed he was rather strange—I next saw him, about 5 p.m. on 21st October, he then looked rather strange, and he said to me "lam followed about by people," and he also said "I have been to see your aunt, she is dead," and asked me if I had seen her—she was not dead—I did not think he was right in his mind—on the 21st he looked as if he had been drinking.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know what I was doing at the time.
The Jury found that the prisoner had committed the act but was insane at the time.—To be detained as a criminal lunatic during Her Majesty's pleasure.
The Jury, being unable to agree were discharged without returning any verdict. He was tried again the following day before another Jury, and acquitted.
MESSRS. MEAD and TORE Prosecuted; Mr. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
MARY ANN WALTERS . I am married, and live at 15, Stonecliff Road, Edgware Road—the deceased, Elizabeth Hidson, was my sister; she was married to the prisoner—they lived together at 23, John Street, N.; they had a back parlour and back kitchen—on Saturday, 22nd October, I had been out shopping with my sister—about 6.30 that evening I met the prisoner—he and his wife went away on friendly terms; she was quite well then—about half-past 8 or a quarter to 9 that same evening, in consequence of a communication from my daughter, I went to the prisoner's house—I went into the back parlour, and saw my sister lying on the bed with her head bound up—the prisoner was there; I did not say anything to him—he insulted me before I got into the room; I do not remember what he said; he was swearing and using bad language—I said "I am ashamed of you, Harry," and he struck me with his fist in the face—my daughter was with me, and she said "Mother, run," and I ran out of the room, and we went away—I did not go there again.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had sent for me to come and see my sister—I saw a mark on his forehead, but no blood.
LUCY ROBERTS . I live at 23, John Street, and occupy the front kitchen—on Saturday, 22nd October, I was at home—about 8 o'clock I heard a noise, as I thought, of a little quarrelling in the prisoner's kitchen—I heard only one word "Oh, Harry"—I knew the wife's voice—the noise I heard was as if they were tumbling furniture about—I went and knocked at the door; the prisoner opened it and said "Go out of this"—I saw Mrs. Hidson; she seemed to come from the fireplace—she came up to me, put her hand on my arm, and said "Don't interfere, Mrs. Roberts, go out"—I noticed her lips, they were stained a little, I could not be sure it was blood—I went out after that, and came home about 11 o'clock—I did not see her again till the next Saturday night, the 29th—she made no statement to me in the prisoner's presence.
MARY ANN LYNCH . I live in the same house—on 22nd October I was at home about a quarter to 8—I heard a scream from the kitchen; I thought it was Mrs. Hidson's voice—about five minutes after I heard the prisoner call out "Mrs. Lynch, will you come downstairs and look at this?"—I went down, and saw Mrs. Hidson sitting on a chair in the back kitchen, bleeding from the nose and a cut under the left eye, likewise vomiting blood—I got some warm water and bathed the wound—I asked her how it happened—the prisoner said that she had fallen down—I
asked her if she would like to see a doctor; she made no reply—I asked the prisoner if I should go for Dr. Morgan; he said "For God's sake, get some one, I don't care who it is"—I saw her every day after that—she made no statement to me in her husband's presence as to how the injury was caused.
Cross-examined. When I went in the prisoner was bleeding from the forehead; he had a very bad out there, and likewise on the side of the nose—lying at Mrs. Hidson's feet were some broken pieces of a jug—he had apparently lost a good deal of blood—he asked his wife if she would like to see her sister; she said "Yes"—he asked me to go for her, and I went.
MARTHA JEFFREY . I am the wife of Frank Jeffrey, and live at 69, Berkeley Street, Somers Town—on 1st November I went to 23, John Street, and saw Mrs. Hidson in bed—the prisoner was present—I asked her if they had been quarrelling—he answered "Quarrelling, no, I don't know how it happened"—she said she went to meet him on the Saturday, and he would go into the public-house and have something to drink; she would not go in, she went home, he came home a few minutes after, and asked her why she had come home without him; she said "Oh, Harry, when you get into this neighbourhood you can't keep away from the drink," they then began to quarrel, and he struck her, and she threw the jug at him; it cut his face, and he struck her again, and she took up the poker, and he tried to take it away from her, and it swung back and struck him in the face—the prisoner heard what she said; he made no remark on it—she also said that she fell over a chair—he went downstairs after this—I was present on the 5th when she died—the prisoner was there—all I heard him say was "Oh, Tommy, is there any blame attached to me?"—that was the name he called her—she made no answer, she was dead then.
Cross-examined, I was a friend of hers—it was at her request that the prisoner sent for me on the night of her death—he appeared greatly grieved and cut up.
SARAH KIRBY I am the sister of the deceased woman—I first went to see my sister after this occurrence on the Monday night—she only spoke a few words to me before she seemed lost again—she was insensible up to the Friday—on the Wednesday before she died I said to her "Lizzie, will you tell me how this happened?" and she put out her hand and pointing under her eye said" He did this with the poker and I fell, and he kicked me on the sides," and she put her hand on her hip—the prisoner was in the room all this time, but I could not swear that he heard this; she spoke very quietly.
JAMES MORGAN . I am the assistant divisional surgeon of the D division, and live at 15, John Street, Marylebone—on 22nd October I was called to 23, John Street, and there saw the deceased; she was bleeding from the nose and from a wound under the left eye, and also vomiting dark clots of blood—I attended her from that time to the time of her death—on the Wednesday before her death she was very weak, but otherwise showed no bad symptoms, she only complained of pains in the head—on the Friday I was called, and then found her in a dying condition and quite insensible—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination with the assistance of Dr. Waller, and when the scalp was removed there was evidence of a bruise on the upper and back part of the head, which
did not seem to be of old date—after the dura mater was divided a large amount of serum escaped—the membranes were very much congested and were adherent to the bones—there must have been considerable violence to have caused such a bruise, but I could not possibly say how it was caused; it might have been caused by any blunt instrument—the left eye was also quite black and swollen, and immediately underneath it there was a wound about an inch long, the instrument, whatever it was, passed through this wound and under the left eye, fracturing the floor of the orbit, and also breaking the bone of the nose, and then fractured the sphinoid bone, which forms the base of a portion of the skull—the instrument passed in altogether about two inches from the outside surface—I also noticed under the eye where the instrument had passed through a black substance resembling coal or soot—I should say this instrument produced would have caused such a wound—the wound was large enough in diameter on the outside for that to have passed through—the poker had grazed along the eye before it entered it—she died from effusion on the brain and inflammation of the membranes, and that was caused by the internal injuries, the fracture of the bones.
Cross-examined. A push with a pointed poker like that might have caused such a wound—when I first saw it I did not consider it a serious wound—at that time I knew nothing of the internal injuries—I did not take notice whether the woman was shorter than the prisoner—the injury on the top of the head might have been caused by a fall or a blow against something—I said at the inquest "Of course the woman might have had the poker in her hand at the time, and her husband might have pushed it in her eye in warding it away from himself, but that is extremely improbable"—if the prisoner had been wrestling with a woman shorter than himself and had let go the poker and it went in her eye in that way, I think it would have required more force, and from the direction of the injuries I should think that very improbable.
Re-examined. The direction of the wound was backwards and inwards; if it had occurred in the way suggested it would go backwards and outwards—I don't think the curve of the poker would make it any more possible.
JOHN WALLER , M.E.C.S. I practise at 10, Upper Dorset Street—I assisted Dr. Morgan to make the post-mortem examination—I have heard the evidence and agree with it—the way in which the injury was done would depend in which position the deceased's head was at the time, she might be pulling this way or that way.
GEORGE BASSETT (Police Inspector D). On 6th November I obtained a warrant, and shortly after 5 o'clock I went to the prisoner's and read the warrant to him; he said "I shall go with clean hands, and will go quietly"—at the station the charge was read over to him, and he said "God help me!"—later in the evening I said to him "I have taken possession of a knife, a pair of scissors, a jacket, and poker found in the room"—he said "You will find under the window a stick, she did this," raising his hands towards his face, "with the stick, and" raising his hand still higher, "this with the jug"—I found the stick where he said it would be, and asked him if that was it—he said "Yes"—when he said that there was a wound on the nose and a wound on the forehead, that was a fortnight after the original occurrence—I found a quantity of blood near where I found the stick.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "It was a pure accident."
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, November 25th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. AVORY Defended.
JOHN BATHURST . I am now secretary of the Junior Army and Navy Stores, Limited—Colonel Weans, the late secretary, died after the institution of these proceedings—I began to act on October 5th—I have been in the employ of the society since its foundation in 1879—the prisoner was chief of the deposit order department, for which two rooms are knocked into one—he had about 15 clerks under him—there are 11,000 or 12,000 deposit accounts, which are kept in five sets of ledgers, of which U to Z is the last—the prisoner was always there during business hours—persons who have money on deposit are allowed to draw out goods on order forms or by letter, and money by cheques—this cheque (produced) is the printed form which was in use—they are done up in books with counterfoils, which we supply members with—the cheques are consecutively numbered like bankers' cheques, of which a register is kept—there is no entry in the register of the prisoner having ever applied for a cheque-book—application for a cheque-book would not be made to me—this bundle of Waring's cheques (produced) are from several books—I have never seen any cheque-book of Waring's—there are eight directors, and Major Clench is the managing director—they meet once a fortnight—for their information at the end of the June half-years it was the practice to prepare a list of debit balances from the ledgers, which Mr. Waring would present to the directors, and at the end of the year the same thing was done with reference to the whole year—that return would take a month to make, during which month a good many debit balances would be extinguished—the debit balances on 31st December would form the basis of one item in the auditors' balance-sheet—the auditors are accountants; they do not attend in the office with Waring—these (produced) are the details of the U to Z ledger—when there is no debit balance no reference would be made to the folios—the largest debit balance is Mr. Waring's 142l. 6s. 6 1/2 d., that is under folio 373—this is an extract from the U to Z ledger; these two sheets are made up to January 1st, 1884, and the total amount is 426l. 12s. 3d.—on 1st January, 1885, the form of keeping the accounts was changed, and not only were the debit balances extracted but the credit as well, and these (produced) are the debit and credit balances prepared at the close of 1884—the date is 1st January, 1885—eight sheets refer to the U to Z ledger—Mr. Waring's account in that year's ledger is at folio 573, but there is no entry of that account in the debit balances—the nearest numbers to 573 are 576 and 679—Waring's account is not extracted or brought out under any number—the total is 726l. 14s. 6 1/2 d., which should have been 1,200l., if Waring's account had been included—this return of the debit balances on 1st July, 1885, was taken out about a month before the end of the half-year—in some places there are notices that the persons have gone abroad, or that
a payment has been made since the date—they are debit balances only on the half-year—the prisoner's account is not extracted by folio; his folio is 689—he owed on that half-year 769l. 19s. 11d.—folios 685 and 691 are extracted—the aggregate amount is 898l. 14s. 7 1/2 d.—this is the schedule of the debit balances only for 1886; hat is going back to the old form—the total amount of the U to Z ledger account to December, 1886, is 888l. 10s. 1 1/2 d.—Waring's account in that ledger is 113, and has not been extracted, the amount of it is 1,514l. 0s. 11d.—the folios extracted just before and just after are 66 and 116—I have no debit balance of July; I never saw one—on 24th September, 1887, Waring owed 1,819l. 12s.—I have caused this summary of his account to be made from all the ledgers from January 1st, 1884; it begins with 142l., and Waring has countersigned it—these eight cheques are all on our forms; Waring's writing is on the face of them, and they are all endorsed and Stamped by him as the head of the department, and they are all endorsed and Stamped by him as the head of the department, and all purport to be Drawn on his deposit account—they are all in favour of Row—one is for 3l. in January; 1886, one for 3l. 10s. in February, 1886, and others for 7l., 10s., 4l., 5l., and 3l., 10s. up to May—those are all—these 10 cheques produced are also in Waring's writing, drawn on his deposit account, endorsed by him, and all in favour of Parsons—the first is for 2l. 6s. 6d. in July, 1886 and the last 4l. 11s. 8d. in September, 1887—here is another to G. Frost on 4th January, 1887—this is one of the forms of the Army and Navy Stores; it bears Mr. Waring's stamp and endorsement—his drawings for goods during the whole period were 156l. 9s. 7 1/2 d. and 66l. 3s. 4 1/2 d., making up the amount of indebtedness in respect of cheques, of which these are a few—persons who are employed at the Stores sign the rules and the regulations, and I have got the one Mr. Waring signed—I produce a special resolution of the Company, of March 6th, 1882, confirmed on 4th April, 1882—there is no special resolution empowering Waring to have credit—it never came within my knowledge that he had a deposit account—I have got the register here of cheques delivered out to members, but I do not think there is any record of any being delivered to Waring—it is the cashier's duty always to send a cheque presented to them, to the deposit account, to have Mr. Waring's signature—cheques for Waring's salary were not drawn on the Stores, but on Ransom and Bouverie, the bankers, which have been paid—he has not brought the cheques for salary into his account—when he left he left this black book (produced) behind him—it is his private memorandum book—he was entitled to commission on the placing of shares by the Company, which commission has been paid by several cheques—567l. odd has been paid him for commission—the last entry in this black book is August 22nd—there is no entry subsequent to that account—I was on the premises on the days following September 24th; he never came back after the 26th—the 24th is the last entry here—I made the information for the warrant—he had access to the books, one of which states "No cheque must be drawn unless there are funds to the credit of the member's account sufficient to meet it, as under no circumstances will any account be allowed to be overdrawn and cheques so drawn will be returned marked 'Refer to drawer.'"
Cross-examined. On our last balance-sheet the amount of customers' Accounts overdrawn, &c., is 28,544l.—that represents amounts owing—I Do not think there is a balance-sheet for 1885 in Court—there was one
issued, but you have not given instructions to produce it—I can recollect an amount under the heading of "Mess and Canteen Account"—I do not think that is very much in excess of the average, it is about the same this year—I gave my evidence at the police-court after several remands, and before I gave it I was subpoenaed to produce the books mentioned—I did not refuse, but there were so many of them it was inconvenient to the business to bring them all, that was my only reason, and I did so under the solicitor's advice—I had found the black-book at that time—I swore before the Magistrate "I have no knowledge of the fact that Waring was paid 1$ per cent, on 65,000 shares"—I could not pledge myself to 65,000, but I did not say that I did not know anything about the commission paid on shares—the Magistrate asked me to produce the black-book—my memory was not then refreshed as to the number of the shares—I do not know whether the number shown there is accurate, it is not a book of the Company—I have not looked at the Company's books to verify the defendant's book—I do not know whether he placed that number of shares—I have not the slightest reason for saying that it is not correct—I do not know that he actually placed 65,000 shares—I did not countersign every one of the cheques paid to him for commission, only some of them—I knew he was paid some commission; there was an account kept, but it did not come within my province to investigate it—I have not the slightest reason to doubt that he has placed 49,000 or 50,000 of the Company's shares, but I do not know what you mean by placing—the directors promised him a commission on placing—he was not constantly buying up the shares and selling them again to improve their value, but he may have done it for his own benefit—I know it from hearsay—I do not know of his buying shares at 10s. a share and advertising them as the property of a lady going abroad, and selling them at par, or of Major Clench being a party to it—a resolution was passed to the effect that the Staff should cease to buy shares, that was to prevent dealings of this kind—this is a copy of Waring's ledger account, in which every one of the cheques which he had paid appears, and as far as I know every one of his transactions is entered in the ledger, which was not kept by him—one clerk kept it, but there are some entries in another writing—it would lie on the ledger clerk's desk, but it was not open to any of the directors or of the Staff who chose to go into the office—customers' accounts are supposed to be confidential—these books did not go into the auditors' hands, but I never heard any direction to the contrary—the auditors could have taken the balance-sheet and turned to the ledger and verified it—the entries of the prisoner's account in the ledger are in Mr. Touzeau's writing, a clerk who is here—this account starts from January 1st, 1884, but I do not know how long before that it began—from December, 1884, to the present time the total amount paid in is 783l., prior to which about 240l. had been paid in—on 13th March, 1884, 743l. 5s. was paid in and drawn out again, which I gather from the ledger had something to do with shares, but I do not know whether he bought shares—Mr. Adamson's name is there, he is a shareholder; I don't know that I ever saw him, or whether he sold his shares to the prisoner—I cannot assist you to understand these entries—it was obvious to any one who looked at the debit balance-sheet and compared it with the ledger, that the prisoner had an account which was overdrawn; this 242l. was the largest item, and anybody would naturally look to see
what it was, and would see that the prisoner's account was overdrawn to that extent—I swore the original information in this case, and heard it stated to the Magistrate that no one of these debit balances of the prisoner's had been disclosed at all, but that was corrected afterwards—I did not know that he had a deposit account before these proceedings—the clerks in his office had deposit accounts but I had not—some of the officials had, and the managing director had—I do not know that Major Clench and all his family had; I am not in the deposit office—other persons' balances were also kept back from the balance-sheet; Mrs. Jackson's deposit account was overdrawn 119l. in January, 1887, which did not appear in the debit balance-sheet, and Captain Bogle's account was overdrawn 152l. in January, 1887; Major Clench, the managing director's account, was overdrawn 60l. on 1st January, 1884, the same date when Waring's account is on the balance-sheet—on 30th June, 1875, there was a balance of 32l. 2s. 10d. against Major Clench, which is not disclosed on the balance-sheet—E. P. Clench is Major Clench's son; he was chief accountant till January 29th, 1884, and then assistant manager, and is now assistant managing director; the chief accountant is the person to whom these schedules would be rendered first—I do not know whose business it was to check them, but the responsibility rested upon Waring, not upon the chief accountant; they were sent to him already authenticated to be passed into the books—the chief accountant had an account too which was 17l. overdrawn in January, 1884, and on January 25th he was overdrawn 6l., that is not disclosed in the schedule—in January, 1885, E.P. Clench was overdrawn 185l., and on 25th September 109l., which is not disclosed in the schedule—Mr. R. H. Clench is a nephew of the managing director; he held no position in the Stores, except temporarily some years ago—his account was overdrawn 3l. 9s. 1d. in January, 1884; that is not disclosed. (Reading other amounts not disclosed, from Mr. R.H. Clench's account.) Mrs. R.H. Clench had an account too; she commenced with a small overdraft of 3s. 9d. (Heading several items of Mrs. R.H. Clench's account, not disclosed in the schedule, amounting to 717l. at the time the prisoner left.) Mr. and Mrs. R. H. Clench's accounts are overdrawn nearly 1,400l.—F. A. Clench is another son of the Major; he had no position in the Stores; he had overdrawn 28l. 15s. 11d. in January, 1884—that is disclosed in the schedule. (MR. AVORY read other amounts of Mr. F.A. Clench's account which were not disclosed.) I was asked at the police-court if I knew anything about a separate list of these debit balances which were made out at the end of each year; we have since searched, and cannot find it—I decline to assume to whom it would be handed if it was made—the chief accountant was the pereo to whom the general list was handed, and Mr. E.P. Clench was chief accountant up to January, 1884, and after him Mr. Wicks, who is not here, he has bolted with the clerks' provident fund—I am perfectly sure it was not in January, 1885, that Mr. Paton Clench ceased—I think the chief accountant's salary was 350l., but I do not know what Mr. Wicks had—this black book also shows Waring's dealings in the shares of other Companies besides the Stores—there are dealings in the Army and Navy Bread Supply Company's shares, which are not in connection with the Army and Navy Stores—I believe the Clenches have some connection with that, and Reginald Clench was a clerk there at one time, and I think I saw Mr. A.R. Clench's name on the prospectus—this black book does
not show the placing of shares by Waring in the Army and Navy Bread Company, but here is the heading "Army and Navy Bread Store," and I take it to mean that—it does not show the commission paid to him—it also shows the placing of shares in "The Army and Navy House Furnishing Company; "none of the Clenches are in that to my knowledge—there were large dealings between that Company and the Stores; our customers purchased goods from them—I never heard of provincial accounts—an incomplete account is one for which the order may be given in June and not be completed till August, but the books are made up to June—I never heard of the defendant being a large shareholder in the Army and Navy Bread Company, or of his repudiating his liability—directly Major Clench became aware that he had overdrawn he paid in money to cover it; that was on September 26th, the day that we discovered the defalcations, and E.P. Clench also paid something on 23rd and 26th September—he paid in 100l. directly he became aware of the overdraft of 109l.—R. H. Clench has paid in nothing to cover this 645l., but he made an arrangement in the shape of security—Mrs. Clench paid in on 20th and 26th October 347l.—I am not aware that she has also deposited securities for the balance—F. A. Clench paid in 100l. on 31st October, and his account is now in credit.
Re-examined. These (produced) are the original balance sheets of the Company from its incorporation—I find the same item in 1884 and 1885 about canteens—the amount varies from 25,000l. to 28,000l., which is the last—we do a large business with Regiments, and have a branch at Aldershot, and Regiments pay monthly and sharp—if that account had been omitted it would not have been a correct balance-sheet—in a furnishing account we expect practically cash payments, but many persons wish to spread the payments over a term, we cannot do that, but the Company will, and send to us to buy the articles—these accounts were for goods, and not for money, but Reginald Clench's accounts and his wife's were for money as well as goods—Major Clench's account was sometimes in credit, and there was always owing to him for salary more than any amount he took out in goods—directly he was notified that he was overdrawn he paid in—R. H. Clench and his wife could not have got 1,300l. in debt to the Stores without the prisoner's knowledge—he must have stamped their cheques in the same way that he did his own—there is an india-rubber stamp with his signature, but it only appears on one of them; all the rest are actual writing—at the request of the defendant's solicitor I supplied him with the information you asked for with regard to the people named Clench—this schedule was supplied to them—I never wilfully kept back any book of account—I had the black book at the police-court twice before it was asked for; it is a small book, and I left it in a drawer of my desk on the first occasion, and explained that it was accidentally absent—the notice to me was to bring down all the ledgers for all the years for all the alphabet—this is the first notice, and this is the second (produced)—it would have been a serious inconvenience to have all the ledgers away at the same time—there are I dare say 1,000 accounts in the C to F ledger—I was advised not to carry a cart load of books, and this statement was supplied to them, and the prisoner's solicitor had been allowed to come and inspect our books—in this account, copied from the different ledgers, under March 13th, 743l. is brought in in a debit entry of 840l.—if the earlier payment is a receiving of cash by
him, then it looks rather as if he was selling shares, and not buying them—he gives Mr. Adamson a cheque as if he had bought them from Adamson—at the end of June, 1884, the debit balance was 334l. 2s. 7d. and in December 525l. 15s. 6d.—it is an increasing debit balance from the commencement—the 142l. 6s. 6 1/2 d. was overlooked, because the account at the time of the balance was at the bottom of the ledger, and was carried forward to the new folio, and we only referred to the first folio, but between that meeting at the police-court and the next we found it out—Mr. Wicks absconded on the day he was sent for to explain an overdraft to the committee—that was the same day that the interview took place with Waring; they were both to come in at the same time—one or two of the schedules made out are missing—we have produced all we can find; Mr. Wicks had the custody of them.
EDWARD STEWARD . I am a cashier in the service of the Army and Navy Civil Service Stores, Limited—from January, 1886, I performed my duty on the ground floor—Mr. Waring was upstairs—this cheque, dated 28th January, was brought to me on 26th January, and was sent upstairs for the authority for payment—Mr. Waring has initialled it to make it payable to bearer—I was away for my holidays when this cheque of 17th August came, but I paid cheques in August and September.
Cross-examined. It was perfectly well known among all the cashiers that Waring had got an account—his cheques were constantly coming to be cashed by any cashier—the practice is for a cheque to be sent up to the deposit department to be stamped—one of these cheques is stamped with an india-rubber stamp with the prisoner's signature—the stamp was generally used, but the majority were signed by Mr. Waring or the ledger clerk, Tozeau, in Waring's absence—any clerk could stamp it, but it would be necessary for him to write his name on it—I was in the department myself nearly six months, from June to December, 1885,. but not as a ledger clerk—I took over for a month or two a small ledger containing accounts of public institutions—I have Been the U to Z ledger lying in the office—these cheques of Waring's have not been taken off a file, they were done up in packets and put away.
Re-examined. When I was there as cashier I paid no cheques which had not something on the back to authorise their payment—if the prisoner entrusted the stamp in his absence to the head clerk, he would have to sign in writing, but there is no writing of any clerk on any of these cheques, only the office stamp—the amount is 3l.—I used the payments in my accounts for money for which I was responsible; it was taken out of the till—they check my memorandum book which I make of my payments out—it would correspond with the cash-book and with the cheques as well.
By MR. AVORY. In some cases the initials are entered, and sometimes the name—everybody knew that S.B.W. meant Waring—I treated them as ordinary cheques, I had no special directions to the contrary.
SAMUEL ATHERTON . In February, 1886, I was a cashier at the Junior Army and Navy Stores—I performed my duty on the ground floor—this cheque for 3l. 10s. dated 22nd February was brought to me stamped on 2nd March—I paid it, and it was sent to the deposit office in the usual way—this "S. B. Waring" is the prisoner's writing, and I believe that was a proper authority to pay it—on the same day I paid to the same clerk this cheque for 3l. 10s., dated 25th February, in favour of Mr. Roe—it
was brought to me with the stamp on it in Waring's writing—every cashier writes in the cash-book as they issue cheque-books.
Cross-examined. We keep books out of which any customer could get a cheque if he wanted one—Waring would hardly need to apply for a cheque-book—I cashed all his cheques on the same authority as other persons who had got overdrawn accounts—I had the same authority to cash the Clenches' cheques—I should not know whether the account was overdrawn or not if it was stamped—at the meeting of directors on 26th or 27th September Waring was there waiting outside the directors' room to be sent for, and I was in the same room with him—that was after the overdraft had been discovered—Mr. Lewin, the solicitor, opened the door and asked for Mr. Waring, who then left the room.
Re-examined. If the cheque had been merely stamped and not signed, the bank clerk would be sent back to the office to have it signed.
JAMES FRANCIS ST. LAURENCE . I am a cashier at the Army and Navy Stores—on 14th January I paid this cheque for 4l. in favour of Row—it is altered to "Bearer"—it had Mr. Waring's signature and stamp at the back.
THOMAS RALPH . I am a grocer and cheesemonger, of 26, Northwick Street, Battersea—I trade as Parsons—the prisoner was in the habit of dealing at my shop—he paid me these 31 cheques which are drawn in my favour—I gave him part goods and part money for them, and in some cases I gave change only—I paid them into my bank.
Cross-examined. I sell better groceries than the Stores.
GEORGE FROST . I live at 300, Clapham Road, Wands worth—the prisoner occupied those premises from March, 1884, to March, 1887—he paid his rent quarterly by cheques on the Junior Army and Navy Stores—this is one of them; I endorsed it. (Dated January 24th for 7l.)
SPENCER ROBERT LEWIN . I have been solicitor to the Junior Army and Navy Stores, Limited, from their incorporation—I was called in with reference to irregularities discovered in Waring's account—I got a warrant against Wicks—I saw Waring once at the Stores after his overdraft of 1,800l. was brought to my knowledge—he was examined and questioned, by the Board; I think they were nearly all there; there were six or seven persons—Major Clench was there and Mr. Paton Clench—Waring was asked to explain the irregularities, and contended that they were an overdraft—they directors said that he had no authority to have an overdraft, and asked whether he allowed other clerks to have overdrafts—he positively denied that any other clerk had an overdraft—after that I met him in the passage outside the board-room, and he said that he intended to repay the money, but only on condition that he was allowed to retain his position at the Stores; that he had placed a great deal of capital, both shares and debentures, and if he was prosecuted he would bring down the whole establishment—I made no bargain with him—after that a warrant was obtained—I advised them not to carry a wagon load of books to the police-court because it is so near the Stores, they could fetch them when they wanted them.
Cross-examined. After the threat I did not suggest that he should come to my office to arrange the matter, but because I wanted to know about the other clerks, and to know what dealings he had had with other men in the Deposit Department; I don't think I invited him; he wished to come and I left him with the understanding that he would
come next day—I had not then made up my mind to prosecute him; I had no instructions to do so till after I received a letter from his solicitor—I don't remember whether that was dated October 1st. (The information sworn on September 29th was handed to the witness.) I must have made a mistake—after the letter there was a meeting of the directors, and they decided to prosecute—I believe the defendant did not come to my office next day—we were under the impression that he had run away—I do not know that he was arrested at his own house—he was not arrested till after an offer was made in a letter from his solicitor that he would surrender at once if a prosecution was insisted on—I have had the arrangement of the settlement of Mr. R.H. Clench's overdraft and the investigation of the securities which he has deposited—the directors are satisfied with the arrangements I have made—I have also arrange the securities which Mrs. Clench has deposited, and the payments she has made to cover this amount.
Re-examined. To the best of my recollection there were two informations, this one (produced) was used to obtain the warrant against Wicks—there was only a day's difference, September 30th and October 1st, and on October 1st there was a proposal which was brought before the directors, and they unanimously decided to prosecute.
By Mr. BESLEY. Mr. Tozeau was asked how he came to omit them—Waring's account was continuously in debit from January 1st, 1884—that does not apply to any other cases in the information supplied.
Witnesses for the Defence.
CHARLES GILLING . I was a ledger clerk in the deposit order office of the Junior Army and Navy stores from 1882 to 1886—the defendant was the head of the office—I kept nearly all the ledgers at different times—I knew that the account of the different members of the Clench family were overdrawn from time to time, and numbers of other customers' accounts—there was such a thing as debit accounts being opened by persons having goods and never paying any money—I have know Major Clench come in when I have been writing up debit balance-sheets and speak to Mr. Waring about different drawing accounts—I remember Major Clench bringing in a Mr. Storer, I thing it was Alexander Storer, and asking Mr. Waring to hand him a blank cheque, and Mr. Storer signed and endorsed it, and Mr. Warning put the indiarubber stamp upon it, and he went to the cashier to get it paid—Mr. Storer had no account; it was entered and debited to him—I don't think any money was ever paid in to meet it—the same thing happened to the same man, I think, on two occasions—Miss Helen Barry (Mrs. Bolan, the actress) also had an account overdrawn; I believe she was well known to Major Clench and the rest of that family—I cannot say whether she paid in any money before she had goods; it was a running account for grocery and provisions, and they let him have 150l. worth of furniture, and it was a debit balance when I left, and had been so, at all events, for 18 months—I remember the account being spoken of because she used to be very often in the building, walking up and down with Major Clench—I applied to her for the money; no money was sent, and Tozeau wrote in black lead, "Don't apply," which stopped my applying again—I used to take out my share of the debit balances in the ledger—I
did not take out all of the Clenches; it was an understood thing that I should leave out the debit balances of different people, and they were put on a slip and given to Mr. Waring and handed with other sheets to the accountant—everybody in the office knew that Waring had an account and that it was overdrawn—I knew Mr. Adamson very well, he held 800 shares, and he often came in and had a chat with me—this represents a purchase of 800 shares by the defendant, and a subsequent sale of them—I did not have any conversation with Major Clench about that, he would call Mr. Waring into his private room—Mr. Waring was always buying and selling shares—in October, after these proceedings commenced, I had a telegram from Major Clench; I went and saw him and had a conversation with him about this case—I think there had then been two remands at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I afterwards attended at the police-court—I know that Touzeau was charged with being in complicity with Waring; he was defended on the ground that he had Waring's instructions, and the Magistrate said there was no evidence—I left the service in July, 1886—I kept the 1883 ledger, and also the house furnishing ledger—Miss Barry's account is not in that book—I possibly gave information to the solicitor about Major Storer, Major Gallagher, Major Bogle, and Mrs. Jackson—I got a half-crown with my subpoena, but was not called at the police-court—all those names were in the A to B ledger—I knew about the Clenches when I was there—the payments in to credit from March downwards are less than 100l., with the exception of two entries of 115l. 15s. each—on March 13, 1884, 740l. is paid in to credit, and on March 19th he lets Adamson take out 840l., but I do not see anything mentioned with regard to shares—I was dismissed from the Stores and transferred to the Army and Navy Bread Company, and have left that—I was dismissed because I came back from tea and was refused admission to the Stores, I resented it, and he struck me and said "You come and see the Major in the morning"—I said "Who are you? you would not be in such a position as you are if the Major was not living with your sister as his mistress"—I was excited, and so would you be if a man was to knock you down without saying anything—I left the Bread Company in Sept.—I was told that they had made arrangements—a week or so after this charge was made I was sent for, and communicated to Waring's solicitor the information I have given—up to that time I had no knowledge of the amount he had drawn out in cheques—I did not know whether it was 8l. or 1,800l.—Mr. Wicks was chief accountant—Mr. Waging had the control of the deposit department—he would come in and say "I want the debit balances," and each clerk would set to work and write his own—I omitted the folios by Waring's direction—Wicks's account would not come into my part, U to Z—if he wanted to know anything he would go out and ask; and I have followed him and seen him go into the office and come out, but I have not been in myself—I know nothing of the Clench family's accounts, but I kept that ledger at one time, and I should say that their balances were more to debit than to credit—they might be to credit in some cases—I have seen Waring sign cheques, and I used to sign them myself—he had an india-rubber stamp and I would sign my name—I did that with regard to cheques drawn by Waring—I had no knowledge of the amount to which that had gone; being in the position he was I did not concern myself about the amount he was taking out of
the concern—I overdrew my account; I cannot say how much—I had no pass-book—you can call it 100l. or you can call it 20l.—I did pay money in—I don't know what I went away owing the Stores.
ARTHUR WILLIAM JARVIS . I was a ledger clerk in these stores from 1884 to 1887—I kept the C to F ledger nearly all the time—that contained the Clench accounts—I knew all the time that their accounts were overdrawn, and sometimes to the extent of 600l. or 700l.—I made out the schedule of the debit balances every half-year—I omitted the Clench balances from the general list, put them on a separate list, and handed them to Mr. Waring with the other list—I presume it would go to the chief accountant—I have never put in the Clenches' balances—I only once kept the U to Z ledger—I then became acquainted with Waring's account, and knew that it was overdrawn—there was no concealment about that—I might once or twice take the credit balances out of the ledger as well as the debit balances, but not regularly—they were not taken into the account—the credit balances in the ledger belonging to the customers are liabilities on the part of the Stores, which were not taken out for the purpose of being put into the balance-sheet—the overdrafts all go in as assets, but the credit balances were not asked for, and they were not made out.
Cross-examined. I had nothing to do with the accounts laid before the auditors—I always took the debit balance out—I do not know wheter the credits were deducted before the debits were carried in—Major Storer's debit balance at folio 131 would not come under my notice—I should not know that he was returned as owing 10l.—I find at folio 1019 a credit against Major Clench of 60l. 10s. 2 1/2 d.; that is in the writing of a ledger clerk who has left, named Ade—I find that Major Clench is not omitted—I find Mrs. A.R. Clench, debit 3s. 9d.—that is not omitted—the only directions I had to omit were from Mr. Waring—I only once had to deal with the U to Z ledger—I did not then examine Mr. Waring's account, but of course I posed it—that was in 1884—I do not suggest that any of the Clenches owed over 1,000l.—I never heard Waring give directions to Touzeau to omit his account from the debit balances.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for felony, upon which MR. BESLEY offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 25th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
(For cases tried in this Court this day see Survey cases.)
OLD COURT.—Saturday, November 26th, 1887.
Before Justice Mr. Smith.
WILLIAM EACHER . I am a signalman in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—I was employed at a signal-box known as the Ganny Signal-box, between Barnet and Potter's Bar—the prisoner was also employed there as a signalman—each of us was on duty for twelve hours, from 7 to 7, changing each day; one on at night, and one at day; on Sunday morning the box closes at 6—on Saturday, 15th October, the prisoner was on day duty—I went on duty on Saturday night, and left on Sunday morning at 6—on Monday morning I went on duty again at 6, there being no one there on Sunday—it was my practice to take my breakfast in the signal-box, and the prisoner also—we never quarrelled until March last—we had some disputes about our plants—I only killed one of his—he killed a large quantity of my beans, which he paid me for—I threatened to report him about some coal found on the line—he had not threatened to report me—on the Monday morning I made my cocoa for breakfast—I drew the water from the filter, boiled it, and made my cocoa—I then tasted it; it had a very peculiar taste—I drank very little of it—I then tasted the dry cocoa—that was all right—I then drew some water from the filter, and that tasted worse; then I drew some from the water butt, and found that all right—a platelayer came along, and I asked him to taste it—I first gave him some of the water from the water-butt, and then some from the filter—I could not eat any breakfast or dinner from the nastiness in my mouth—I kept on duty all day—I was very thirsty—I did not feel any ill effects till after I had my tea and went to bed—I then felt pain in all my body—I could not lie—I rose myself up, and then purging took place all night and all next day, and I was sick—at midday on Monday I sent for the station master—I showed him the filter and the water, and he took it away—on Tuesday I went and saw the doctor—I got a great deal better on Tuesday, but the effects went into my legs—on Wednesday and Thursday I could scarcely stand.
Cross-examined. I signalled about 105 trains on the Monday—it was 7.45 a.m. when I had the cocoa, and I left duty at 7 p.m.—it was on Tuesday night I went to Dr. Drage—his assistant attended me—he was not before the Magistrate, and I do not see him here—there was only one pan in the signal-box—when the electric batteries are cleaned out the contents are thrown away on to the cinder ashes, not into the pan—I am not aware that there were any vessels in the signal-box containing dirty fluid when I left on Saturday—I swallowed about half a wine-glass full of the fluid, or more, a quarter of a cupful, I could not tell exactly.
Re-examined. I had no idea before I tasted the cocoa that there was anything wrong with the water—after tasting the cocoa I tasted and swallowed some of the water—it was in consequence of what I took that I could not eat my dinner.
HENRY LAWFORD . I am a platelayer in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—on Monday morning, 17th October, about 8 o'clock, I went to the Ganny signal-box and saw Racher—he gave me some water in an egg-cup—I do not know where he got it from—I tasted it; it was very good—he then gave me some in a jar—I did not see where he got that from—it tasted very nasty; as soon as I got it in my mouth I put it out; I swallowed about two drops of it; it felt very hot as it went down, and it fluttered about in my belly as if I had had some salts; that was all the effect it had.
time in middle day on 17th October I was sent for to the Ganny signal-box—I tasted some of the water from the filter; it was very disagreeable, and left a strong metallic taste in the mouth—I had the filter taken away, and sealed it up; I handed it to one of our police officers—I swallowed a very minute quantity; it produced a very slight burning sensation at the chest.
Cross-examined. I sealed up the filter on the 17th, and gave it to the detective on the 26th—the delay was in consequence of my report being mislaid—the prisoner has been in the Company's employ 18 years; he has been a signalman for the last seven or eight years—I always considered him a steady, respectable man—he has received bonuses on several occasions.
JAMES STACEY . I am a detective officer on the Great Northern Railway—on 27th October I received the filter sealed up from Mr. Allen; I took it to our police office—on 2nd November I went with Sergeant Fox and arrested the prisoner at his house—I told him we were police officers, and drew his attention to the quarrel existing between him and Racher—he said it was perfectly true, and he entered into a long rigmarole of ill-usage—I told him we did not want to hear that—I left the room, and left Fox with him—when I returned I made him turn out his pockets, and found this letter, which is in his writing—he said "I have not sent it in yet"—he also had a copy of it in his pocket. (The letter was dated Ganny box, October 18the addressed to the assistant superintendent of the line, complaining of Racher taking in lodgers, and asking for his removal from the signal-box.)
FREDERICK FOX (Detective Sergeant). On 2nd November I went with Stacey to the prisoner's house—I said "Racher complains of poison being put into the filter at your signal-box, also of damage being done to the plants"—he said he knew nothing about it, he had not put anything in the water, and suggested that Racher had done it himself—I asked if he wished to give any explanation of the matter—he made a long statement of what had happened between them; eventually he said "I suppose this will be brought up in evidence against me"—I said "It may be"—he said "I put a little drop into the filter, but I did not do it to do him any injury, I merely did it to make the water slightly distasteful, that was all"—on that I told him it was my duty to arrest him on a charge of administering a poisonous or noxious thing with intent to do bodily harm—he said "I had no intention to harm him, I did not know that the stuff in the battery was poison, I only did it to annoy him by making the water distasteful; we have been bad friends for a long time; he accused me of taking a piece of coal that I found on the line; since then he has destroyed my flowers, and I put some paraffin on his; when he found the coal he threatened to report me to the station-master; I told him if he did I should report him for taking cinders and wood; that was about last March, and we have been bad friends ever since"—on the way to the station he said "Has the water been analysed?"—I said "Yes"—he said "What does the analyst report? Did he report that there was any poison in it?"—I said "Yes"—he said "What did he say it was?"—I said "The analyst reports that the water in the filter contains 108 grains of acid and chloride of zinc, which is poison"—he said "I did not know it was poison, I only did it to annoy him, I thought it would make the water distasteful, I did not think it would hurt him"—I forwarded
the filter to Mr. Gow; it had been previously analysed by somebody else.
ALFRED NEWTON GOW . I am an analytical chemist at New Barnet, and am a Fellow of the Chemical Society—on 4th November I received the filter and a bottle of cocoa from Fox—I analysed the liquid in the filter—I found 134 grains of chloride of zinc with a little free hydrochloric acid—the cocoa was made ready for drinking—I analysed it, and found it to contain chloride of zinc and hydrochloric acid—hydrochloric acid is not usual in galvanic batteries, sulphate of zinc is nearly always used—I have not analysed the contents of this battery—chloride of zinc mixed with hydrochloric acid is a noxious thing, and would do damage; it is a corrosive irritant; if taken in sufficient quantity it would do damage; if the man had taken all that was in the filter we should have seen no more of him—if he had drank all in the cup I should say the effect would be to cause nausea, vomiting, and diarrhoea, but I do not think it would have any permanent ill-effects; it certainly would not be fatal; it is so noxious that no one would take a sufficient quantity unless they wished to commit suicide; it would have a greater effect if taken on an empty stomach.
Cross-examined. I have stated that either the prosecutor swallowed more than he thinks, or he has very much exaggerated the symptoms—half a wineglassful would contain about a grain of sulphate of zinc—on tasting the liquid it would at once have a noxious and objectionable taste.
GUILTY of the intent to annoy. — To enter into his own recognisance in 50l. to appear for judgment if called upon.
NEW COURT, Saturday, and OLD COURT, Monday, November 26th and 28th, 1887.Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. MATHEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted.
SCHOMBERG KERR . I live at 17, Ratoliffe Road, South Kensington; I have no occupation—about May this year I saw an advertisement in the Standard, in consequence of which I wrote a letter and went to the Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Circus, and saw the defendant—I referred to the advertisement—he told me that the London and Globe Drug Company was going to be formed into a limited concern, and a secretary would be required, and my name would be put forward as a candidate; there were a number of applicants, but I should have a good chance of getting the appointment if I put some money into the syndicate—there was some discussion about the amount, and eventually 50l. was agreed upon—he told me other gentlemen had put money into it, and if I wanted to get the appointment I had better do the same—I do not think I paid any money that day; I paid 10l. on 25th May, for which he gave me this receipt, dated May 27th, and an agreement was drawn up, of which I took this copy. (This was between G. R'Eno and the witness, who agreed to take shares to the amount of 50l. upon his being appointed secretary at a salary of 250l., he giving a bond for 300l. for the performance of his duties.) I left that with him on the 25th, and saw him again on the
31st, when I paid him 20l. and received this receipt, and on 7th June I paid him 20l. more, and received this receipt (produced)—on May 31st he told me that my application had been before the directors, and they had enabled him to tell me that my appointment was confirmed, and from that date I considered that I had been appointed—I attended at the office after 7th June on an average twice a week, down to the date of the prisoner's arrest, but there was no employment for me—I saw printed prospectuses of the Company similar to this (produced)—I noticed the names on it, which are here.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not call on Messrs. Pitts and Savage—I understood that the 50l. was to promote the Company—"London and Drug Company" was on the door—your name is only written with the apostrophe in one letter; the others are signed "Beno"—I looked upon the prospectus as a proof—you did not tell me that the printers made a mistake in leaving out the apostrophe—I wrote that agreement at your dictation, and took a true copy of it—I had five days to consider it and decide as to whether I paid the balance—I do not think I objected to any clause in it—I handed you a bill of exchange, signed by Mr. McCulloch, on Whit Tuesday—I wrote to you to get it discounted; I did not then think that I had been swindled—I was made bankrupt about two years ago; I have never applied for my discharge—a short time before I gave you the bill I was arranging with a gentleman in the real estate business for 500l., but it was not my own money—Bishop Richardson's name is on this prospectus; I believe he was a director of the Company—I remember your being summoned to the Mansion House for obtaining 50l. by false pretences—the case against you was dismissed—I was in Court, but I did not then know that you had defrauded me—I believe that Dr. Dalley was a director, and Mr. Blagrove—you told me that they withdrew, after Cavanagh's case—I said that I would try and obtain directors—this is my letter, dated 17th June (Stating that he would endeavour to secure Lord Pollington as a director)—these two letters are mine, and this slip—I say in one of them "What bonus are you prepared to give me?"—Mr. Hooblank is the chairman of the Company—I was employed at Earl's Court, but I called twice a week at Ludgate Circus—since your imprisonment I applied to serve you with a writ at Holloway Prison, and it was served on you, and I have marked judgment on it; you could have defended yourself if you had liked—I have not seen Cavanagh here this morning—I think you said you did not require the 50l. at once, and that I could pay it as you required it—I think you said the syndicate consisted of six members, and that you had paid two or three of them off because they were small sums—I was to receive 10l. bonus on allotment for my investment—it says "The secretary will not be required till the Company goes to allotment"—after Cavanagh's case appeared you suggested the advisability of remaining quiet for awhile—in the meantime I was endeavouring to get directors—you told me that you had got the consent of a bank—I knew that Pitts and Savage were the solicitors—you said that you and I and Mr. Cameron would be committing a fraud if you qualified him; he is the manager of the "Hop Bitter"—I was in the office on the day you were arrested, you had written me a letter the day before—the clerk told me that Dr. Dalley was there, but I did not know him by sight; I have no reason to believe he was not there—I do not know of any debts against you at
Holborn or anything dishonourable, if there had been I do not know that you would have located at Imperial Buildings—you asked me to I assist you in selling some property in the States; I did not write there to see if you had such property left you by a relation—persons can trade in what names they like—the first prospectus was cancelled after Cavanagh's case, I think that was in June—I did not call upon the persons named in it and ask if they were directors—you never mentioned General Sprigfield's name to me—you asked me if I would take a vacant seat on the Board if an opportunity offered; I said "Yes," and there was an understanding that I should resign the secretaryship if I became a director—you did not say that I could not do so because I was an undischarged bankrupt—about a fortnight before your arrest the son of the chairman of the Hop Bitter Company called; I did not then say "Mr. Kerr, half your money is already spent in the syndicate"—I understood that my money would go towards advertising the prospectus, but the prospectus had never been in the papers, therefore I thought it was funny—you entered into a like agreement to mine—I am prepared to make good the judgment under this writ if I can, but it is not my money if I get it—I understood that you were the owner of this Drug Company, the words London Drug Company are put up, and they are also on the pill-boxes; it does not state "R'Eno;" I was quite sanguine about the Company.
Re-examined. It was the information I got from the prisoner which made me sanguine; he made the statements as to the directors and so on, and I relied upon them—I proposed the names of the Hon. Mr. Clarke and Mr. Erskine to him, but I had not obtained those gentlemen's consent—I think it was the same day I told him that I was an undischarged bankrupt that he offered me a seat on the Board—while I was attending twice a week I did not know he was putting other names forward for the secretaryship—I considered the appointment was mine from 31st May—I wrote down the agreement of 10th June from the prisoner's dictation, but I took it home, I did not sign it on the spot.
HENRY RENWICK . I am a clerk, and live at Bellerly Road, Clapham Common—a friend handed me an advertisement in June; I answered it and received a letter in reply signed R. R'Eno, which I have not got; in consequence of which I went to the London and Globe Drug Company, Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Circus, where I saw the prisoner; he said he was in want or a secretary for the London and Globe Drug Company, of which he was manager, and that he came from America to establish a branch here for the manufacture and sale of some, patent pills which had been established a long time in America, and the turnover was 50,000l. a year; I asked him the name of the Company; he asked me if it seriously affected me; I said "Yes, if I become a shareholder;" he said "I must withhold the name, I don't see that it affects you at present;" he said that he had a number of applications, and showed me a number of letters; one gentleman, I think it was Mr. Cavendish, gave very high references, one of whom was the Duke of Devonshire; I said "I presume the appointment would be best held by a business man, do you think you would get a business man in Cavendish?" he said "No, probably not;" he handed me a prospectus and said that he should be very happy to answer any questions I put to him; I noticed that the word "Limited" was not on it, and said that it was important that it should be made a limited company, for security to the shareholders, he
said that could be altered; I noticed the names of the directors and inquired who they were—one was Richardson, another General Springfield or Greenfield; I asked what nationality General Springfield was; he said an American, and that there were two or three Americans—I saw the names, Richardson and Blagrove, on the prospectus, I do not recognise the other names—he asked me what sum I could invest in shares in the Company; I said whatever the amount was I thought I could satisfy the directors; he said 300l. to 500l., and that he ought to have 100l. down as a proof of bona fides; I told him I had had to do with public companies before, and he said from my past experience he thought I should be lucky, and he would recommend me; I am certain that was in June—I put a number of questions to him touching the solvency and solidity of the concern; his answers were not satisfactory—I noticed in the prospectus that the vendor was to receive 6,000l. in cash and 6,000 fully paid-up shares; I asked him what that consisted of, whether there were leases or stock in trade; his answer was not satisfactory—he grew very warm indeed, and I told him I thought it was a swindle, and I would take good care to let my friends know, and he ordered me out of the office.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether the Eight Rev. Bishop Richardson is a Bishop of the American Church—I do not know whether you had an application from the Hon. Mr. Cavendish—I have only been to Mr. Wontner's office once—I told them that you held up a letter which you said was from somebody Cavendish—I only had one conversation with you—I know that a secretary cannot be appointed till a company is formed, but there can be a secretary pro tem.—a were to submit my name to the Board—you showed me no agreement—I do not know what the terms were—you told me my questions were impertinent—I am not aware that Mr. Lamplough received 40,000l. for the formula of his prescription.
FREDERICK WILLIAM BARNES . I am a clerk, and live at 1, Hope Villas, Leyton—I replied to an advertisement in the Daily Chronicle, in August, and on 28th August I received this letter. (Requesting him to call at the London and Globe Drug Company.) I went there and saw the prisoner—he told me that the Company was about to be converted into a limited one, that they required a secretary, and he asked if I had been in the drug business—I said "No, but I have been connected with limited-companies"—he then dictated this agreement, which I wrote down, but the last two words, "by you," were written by the prisoner on the 28th, after it was stamped—he said that if I wanted the berth I must take a financial interest in the syndicate, which was for the promotion of the Company, and that the Articles of Association were in the solicitor's hands for amendment—I asked to see a prospectus, but he refused; he gave me a sheet of paper with the names of the Hon. J. Erskine and Sir somebody Clarke, upon it, and said that they were the directors—he did not show me the prospectus because, he said, he had done so to one of the applicants, who had been making inquiries of the directors, and they did not like it—I agreed to subscribe 30l. towards the syndicate, and to pay 5l. deposit, the remaining 25l. to stand over—he said that as I had been in a company's office before, I should stand a very good chance of getting the berth—I left, and returned next day, Sept. 1st, and paid him 5l., and he said he would put my application before the directors, and in a few days they would be having a meeting, and if I called I should know the result—I
did so, and he said the directors had postponed their meeting to a further date—I called again on 7th or 8th September, and he told me I had been appointed secretary at a salary of 3l. a week, and asked if I was prepared to pay the balance of 25l.—I said that I should not be ready for seven days—he said by the time I was ready with my money the Company would be limited and registered—I asked to have an interview with the directors so as to get my appointment at their hands—he said that I should not see them in the office till I had paid my money and entered on my duties—I told him I should not pay any more money until I had more information from him about the concern—he said that he would go to the solicitors round the corner and ascertain what stage the Company was in, so far as registration was concerned—he asked me what bonus I would give him if he got me the berth without my taking any financial interest in the concern—I was not satisfied, and afterwards wrote, withdrawing my application, and went to the office and asked for the return of my money—this is the receipt he had given me for the 5l. (This stated: "In the event of your not being appointed to the secretaryship, we agree to refund the deposit paid.") I did not get the money—he wrote me a letter to say that the 5l. was forfeited.
Cross-examined. I have been connected all my life with limited companies—I did not object to any of the contents of this agreement—you told me on September 26th, the last interview I had with you, that the Company was limited—you went to the solicitor, and came back and said so—here is, in my own writing attached to the summons, "About to be incorporated"—that summons was to be heard on 18th November, when you were in prison—I did not appear; I sent to the Registrar withdrawing it—I did not see the name R'Eno on the door, nor did you tell me that your name was R'Eno—I know that appointments are not made to companies in formation till they have gone through the allotment—I knew that I was joining a syndicate for a limited company—I understood that my 5l. was to be transferred to the Company, together with the 25l. if the whole thing was carried out—nothing was said about 5l. bonus—I understood if the Company did not go to allotment, I should have my 5l. returned—I have not sworn that before—you told me that several persons were competing besides me, and had signed a similar document—I refused to pay the 25l., because you would not let me have the names of the directors—I went there with the intention of paying it—I did not consider that I was a member of the syndicate after September 23rd.
DAVIDSON BRADBURY . I live at Shorbrook Terrace, Putney—I am not in any employment—I advertised in the Standard, being anxious to get employment—this is my advertisement—(Found on the prisoner)—soon afterwards I received a card, which I have lost—it was not signed, but it had printed on it, "London and Globe Drug Company, Imperial Buildings"—I went on 30th September, and saw on the door the "London and Globe Drug Company"—I went inside, and saw the prisoner—he said some friends of his were going to bring out an American newspaper in London, and asked me if I cared for that sort of thing—I said "No"—he said that the Company he represented were advertising for a secretary, and the advertisement would appear in that evening's Standard in the name of "Energy;" I had better write for it, and if I would work in harmony with him he would do his best to get me the position—I bought the Evening Standard, saw this advertisement (produced),
and wrote that night offering myself as a candidate for the post, and giving my qualifications—I called on Monday, October 3rd—the prisoner said he had received my answer among others, but had not time to look them through—I called again the next day, and he said he had picked out the best applications, and mine was among them, and he would lay them before the directors, and I had better write out an agreement for him to lay before the directors—he dictated it, and I wrote it—when he came to the part about putting our names forward, he said he put it in that it might appear that he did not further my claim more than the others, but that I stood a very good chance—he told mo to make my cheque payable to "G. R. Eno"—I did so, and gave him a cheque for 10l.—I called again on 6th October, and he said the directors had not decided—I went again on the 7th, and he said that I had been appointed. (The witness 11 application for 100l. worth of shares in return for being appointed secretary, and offering a bond for the performance of his duties, and 10l. deposit;, was here put in.) He said the directors would like me better if I had a pecuniary interest in the Company—I said "To what extent?"—he said 100l. "—on. 7th October he said that the directors would expect me to pay the other 90l.—I said "I have not got my cheque-book with me"—he said "Write it on a common piece of paper; it is a common thing in America; it shall not be cashed until the agreement signed by the directors is given to you to-morrow"—I gave him this cheque on a plain piece of paper, for 90l., "payable to the order of G. R. Eno"—I went to Putney the same afternoon to my bankers, and gave directions not to cash the cheque., but they gave me certain information, and I took the train back, and asked the prisoner how it was he had broken his word about cashing the cheque—he said "You have been appointed; we do business in a much sharper way than you do; I went to the directors, and you are appointed"—I said "You had better give me a receipt for the money," and he gave me this receipt for 100l.—on Saturday, the 8th, I went again, and asked him if the agreement was ready—he read something, and asked me to write it down—I did so, and asked him if the Company was limited—he said "No, the articles of association are registered, and the Company will be limited, and the word 'Limited' will be on the door on Monday"—I took the agreement to my solicitors, who advised me upon it, and then went back to the prisoner—I left him with the understanding that I was to begin my duties on Monday, October 10th, and I went with a gentleman from my solicitor's office, who asked the prisoner to produce a proper agreement or refund the money—he refused either, and we went straight to Mr. Wontner's—we had already been to Somerset House; no Articles of Association were registered there—after that I swore an information.
Cross-examined. I have been a clerk on the London Stock Exchange—I had no objection to any clauses in these two agreements when I signed them—you did not say "I am going to turn my business," but that the Company was to be turned into a limited concern—I should have paid the 10l. on the day I signed the agreement if I had had my cheque-book—I do not know that I could not have got the appointment till the Company went into allotment—you have served me with a notice to produce my cheque-book—I will not let you have it—the 10l. cheque had to be cashed at Putney; I did not ask the bank between the 4th and 7th if it had been cashed—you never told me who the directors
were or showed me a prospectus—you did not say "In case the Company go to allotment you get 110 shares"—this says "shall receive an equal number of shares"—the 90l. cheque on plain paper, was made payable to order, and your signature is oil the back—I asked you if the Company was limited, as, if it was not, it would be advisable to put the shares in my wife's name—I did not join the syndicate—I did not object to any clause in the agreement between the first and second deposits—I have great reason to doubt the Company's success, even if this case had not come on.
Re-examined. I paid him the cheque for 90l. on 7th October between 12 and 1 o'clock.
ARTHUR JOHNSON . I am cashier at the Putney Branch of the London and South-Western Bank—Mr. Bradbury has an account there—on 5th October I cashed this cheque for 10l. to the prisoner over the counter—this cheque for 90l., dated October 7th, I paid to the prisoner about 3 p.m. on October 7th, and gave him eight 10l. notes, 63637 to 63644, and 10l. in gold.
Cross-examined. I do not think Mr. Bradbury was at the bank between the first cheque and the second—you served me with a notice to produce his banking account.
FREDERICK JOSEPH SMITH . I am assistant to Butley and Lovell, jewellers, 72, Ludgate Hill—on October 7th the prisoner bought a pair of ear rings and a ring—the ear rings were paid for with a 10l. note, according to my recollection; I will not swear it—I sent the receipt to the Drug Company, Imperial Buildings, within an hour—if he did give a note it was paid into the County Bank.
SIDNEY CASWELL . I am a clerk in the Joint Stock Companies Department, Somerset House—I have searched the register of joint stock companies, and do not find the London and Globe Drug Company or any Articles of Association.
ROBERT CHILD ( City Detective Sergeant). On 12th October I took the the prisoner at Room 28, Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Hill, on a warrant obtained on the information of Mr. Bradbury, which I read to him—he made no reply—previous to that he tore up a letter in the office; I picked up the pieces, which have since been pasted together—this is it—it is written from Brighton and signed "Regan," and an envelope directed "W. W. Regan, Esq., care of George Reno, Esq., Imperial Buildings, London, England"—I found on him at the station several documents and eight pawnbrokers' duplicates; one was for a dress and one for a sealskin cape—he said "I bought them"—I also found a letter from Messrs. Wontner relating to Mr. Bradbury's claim—one of the eight duplicates was a special contract note of a caligraph pledged at Wimbledon on 12th July for 3l. in the name of Tweedy, and one of the other duplicates was in the name of Tweedy—I also found two 10l. notes, 63637 and 63638, which are two of Mr. Bradbury's notes—I asked him for his private address—he said "I give my address Imperial Buildings"—I said "That is not your private address"—he said "That is my address"—I said that I was going back to the office to search for books and papers relating to the Company—he said "The books and papers are at my private address and at my solicitors'"—I went back to the office but found no business books relating to the transactions of the Company—this is the only book I found. (This contained advertisements cut from
newspapers, for clerks, partners, and accountants.) I found there this receipt for 6l. from a furnishing company for the hire of furniture at Imperial Buildings.
Cross-examined. The receipt is to G. R'Eno, which is very different from the "Reno" at Holborn Buildings—I did not go to your wife; I did not know her address—I did not see her at the station—this is the letter you tore up—it is directed, I think, to the Hon. Judge Rockenbrow, of the United States—it has nothing to do with the syndicate that I am aware of—I swore that a man named Hemmings made a complaint to me, and that I went to Holborn to your place and cautioned you; I was sent officially to do so—you have served me with a notice to produce Hemmings; I do not know whether he is here, but I left a subpoena for him—I believe the housekeeper from Holborn Viaduct is here, and the landlord's agent—Mrs. Somers told me that there were frequent disturbances outside your door.
Re-examined. I went on January 28th to 66, Holborn Viaduct; the name over the door was Reno without the apostrophe, and it is on the wall now—Hemmings was with me; he complained of being swindled out of 2l., and I was sent to caution the prisoner about the way he carried on his business—Hemmings had answered an advertisement, and was induced to sign an agreement—he was to have 30s. a week.
WILLIAM MORLEY FRENCH . I am a solicitor assisting Messrs. Wontner in conducting this prosecution—in January, 1885, the prisoner was passing under the name of William Ffolliott Regan—I have had before me a number of letters in his writing—the letters and envelopes produced are all in his writing—one is addressed "W. F. Began, care of Geo. R'Eno, Esq., Imperial Buildings, Ludgate Circus."
Cross-examined. I do not know whether this is a licence. (Produced by the prisoner)—it is in the name of Geo. R'Eno.
THOMAS DAVISON . I am a merchant, of 92, Queen Street, London—I knew the prisoner when he bad offices at 66, Holborn Viaduct—I sold him a caligraph writing machine for 20l. on 18th February; I have never been paid for it—I saw it at Wimbledon about a month ago in a pawn-broker's shop—I threatened to take proceedings against the prisoner, and he said that it was with a friend in the country, and ho would get it up in a few days, and it would ruin his prospectus if it came out—I instructed my solicitors, and got judgment.
Cross-examined. When you got the machine you told me you were forming a syndicate to take over some pills—I do not know I am the only creditor you have in London—you could not appear to the summons because you were in Hollo way Gaol—you ordered a different class of machine to this, and agreed to take this till the other came, but you afterwards wrote and said you would keep this one—I went to Wimbledon; I do not know whether I went to Graham Road; the ticket says "87, Graham Road"—I am willing to take it back if I can get it—I sold it to Mr. Reno.
Re-examined. This (produced) is a letter I received from the prisoner; it is signed "Geo. Reno."
Witnesses for the Defence.
CHARLES FREDERICK SALTER . I am the clerk at Imperial Buildings—these produced are the housekeeper's receipts, and this is the agreement you signed when you took the premises on 20th February—they are
all signed "R'Eno" with a large R and a large E—I have not heard any complaints against you there; if there had been the housekeeper would have told me—you have always paid your way.
Cross-examined. On 7th October the prisoner paid his rent with a 10l. note numbered 63643, with the stamp of the London and South-Western Bank, Putney.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he did his best to bring out the Company, that it was not his fault that he failed, but that this was a conspiracy against him because of the success of his pills; he contended that he had a right to alter his name, other patent medicines which he named, being sold under assumed names; he complained that neither the directors, nor the bankers, nor the printers had been called to prove the case against him. He then called—
ALFRED SPENCER RICHARDSON . I am a Bishop of the Reformed Episcopal Church in this country—I saw you twice at your office, I think towards the end of April and again in May—I had answered an advertisement in February and March, in which directors had been required for the Company, and I very likely wrote to you to send particulars in confidence—I wrote this: "The Right Rev. Bishop Richardson would like particulars if it is not already filled up"—I did not call till you sent the particulars, which are now in Court—that letter contained a list of medical firms who had made a good deal of money, naming four persons who were directors—you had not given me your name then, but you afterwards wrote it three times "George R. Eno"—I took the document to my solicitor, and saw his confidential clerk—I wrote this letter of 6th April, 1887, in which I asked "How do you propose to pay the fees?"
By the COURT. I told him that my decision depended entirely on my solicitor, whether he considered it a bona fide affair, and then I wrote some foolish letters I admit—I saw the prisoner twice, but I could not get to see the directors or any letters from any of them—I tried to get their names, but could not, and on the third occasion I went up with my solicitor's advice to remonstrate with the prisoner about the draft prospectus—he was not there, and as I left the office a man named Cavanagh ran after me and said "Are you Bishop Richardson?"—I said "Yes"—he said "I want to know something about Mr. Eno, would you mind telling me what you know?"—I said "I don't mind at all; who are you?"—he said that he was applying for the office of secretary, and was told that the directors had appointed him, and he had parted with some money—he then pulled out some papers, and I said "You had better come across to the restaurant, where we can sit down and read them," and the end of it was that I sent him to my solicitor, Mr. E. S. Wolsley—I was not a director, except subject to my solicitor's advice, which was never given; it never went beyond that provisional arrangement—I never saw Dr. Dalley, or Mr. Dawson, or Mr. Blagrove, till I saw Mr. Blagrove at the police-court—I have reason to doubt every statement which the prisoner has made.
Cross-examined. On June 3rd I instructed my solicitor to write to the defendant; this is the letter. (Stating that Bishop Richardson had given the prisoner no authority to use his name as a director, and requesting him to remove it from the prospectus.) I asked the prisoner if he was one of the fruit-salt Enos; he said "I belong to another branch of the family"—I never knew him as anything but Eno.
GEORGE HENRY BLAGROVE . I am an architect, of 29, Montagu Place—I knew the defendant in the early part of this year—he asked me to become a director of the London and Globe Drug Co., Limited—he wrote to me, stating that he was forming a limited liability company, and he wished to know if I was willing to have my name put on the prospectus as a director—I had some interviews with him—in consequence of what he stated I wrote to him on 9th February, agreeing to become a director in this Company—then I saw him from time to time—he said the Company was in course of formation, and he would let me know when my attendance was required at a preliminary meeting—on 10th June I think I saw him at his request, and he said "I want you to write another letter agreeing to become a director, because I am about to take steps for registering the Company, and I want this second letter is the ordinary date for registration purposes"—I then wrote another letter agreeing to become a director of this Company—then on 13th June I wrote a letter, of which this is a copy, withdrawing my consent to act as a director—I did not at any time attend any meeting of directors or any preliminary meeting of the Company—I have never heard from the defendant that any such meeting took place—I did not know of any advertisements being inserted in newspapers for the post of secretary to the Company—I knew nothing of any money being received or expended on behalf of the Company before 13th June—I was never asked to attend a meeting of directors—I never saw any other gentlemen whose names were on the prospectus—I have seen Mr. Dawson—I never saw Bishop Richardson before the 13th June—I first saw a draft, prospectus less complete than this (produced)—I can't be sure whether I ever saw this prospectus. (Another.) I do not remember, but I was told by the defendant that he had the consent of Bishop Richardson—I never saw a prospectus with solicitors' names on it—I see that the names of solicitors and auditors are filled in this.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I think the first letter I sent you was on February 19—I don't say that it was owing to this case appearing in the papers that I withdrew—I withdrew because I did not wish my name to appear—I knew the Company was in course of formation—I had nothing to do with the syndicate since I withdrew my consent—I have not found that you ever gave my name to any person as a director—this letter (produced) is Mr. Dawson's handwriting. (This was dated February 2, and stated "I shall have much pleasure in co-operation with the directors of your Board.")
REV. DR. JOHN BOWLES DALLEY (Examined by the Prisoner). I am a clergyman of the Church of England—I am at present living on my property and devoting my time to literary pursuits—I wrote to you on 10th June that I had read the prospectus of your Company and consented to act as one of the directors—I recollect your telling me that Bishop Richardson replied to an advertisement, in which you advertised for a director—you told me that you went to Stationers' Hall and searched the Clergy List and failed to find his name, and you asked me as a clergyman whether he was on the clerical list—I understood that the Company was in a state of formation—I was at the office the day of your arrest—I saw Mr. Kerr there, a member of the syndicate, but I did not know him—I received a letter from you asking me to come here to-day—your words were "For God's sake come here on Monday"—you did not tell me what to say—you have never asked me to come forward from the time of your
arrest—I did not withdraw my consent to be a director until I found you were in Holloway prison—I was quite prepared to act as a director up to that period—I think I wrote to you asking when the Company was coming out—I do not recollect the date—I believed you were doing your utmost to promote the interests of the Company—I got some complaint from Mr. Blagrove, but it was written in so malicious a spirit that I threw the letter aside as not worth noticing—it was somewhere about the time of Kerr's case.
Cross-examined. I have known the defendant about 12 months—I was fairly intimate with him during that time—I had frequent opportunities of conversing with him on political and social matters—I was at the Mansion House at one cross-examination; I think the first—I never attended a meeting of the directors of the Company—I was not consulted about the taking money from persons applying for the post of secretary—no list of applicants was submitted to me, but I got letters from some who were applying—I never authorised the defendant to say that those gentlemen would be preferred who placed money in the syndicate; may I add that I found the defendant's conduct in all I had to do with him straight-forward, gentlemanly, and perfectly frank.
GUILTY . The prisoner was further charged with having been before convicted of conspiracy in the name of Regan at this Court in January, 1885 (Vol. CI., p. 508), to which he
INSPECTOR MARSHALL deposed to other frauds committed by the prisoner under various names and with other persons.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The prisoner was tried at the last Sessions (See Vol CVI., page 653) for conspiracy, and acquitted. The present charge was founded upon the same facts as there reported.
MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and WOODFALL Prosecuted; MESSRS. GRAIN and PARTRIDGE Defended.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, November 26th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted; MR. G. DILL Defended.
JOSEPH SPEER . I am a linen merchant at 39, Foster Lane—this is a piece of my linen (produced); it is coarse, we call it Forfar—it was just outside my door on the afternoon of 8th November, at half-past 4 I missed it about 10 minutes to 5—the value of it is about 2l. 1s. 6d. a piece, and there were 10 pieces in the bale that was stolen—the only damage to it is that a tab has been cut off, that would cause a hole in the centre—it was in perfect condition when on my premises—the goods were tied up outside my premises with two black strings, which were cut off—on the tab cut off the lengths were marked—on missing it I gave information to the police; afterwards I identified it.
Cross-examined. These goods were ordered by me for a special contract, and I have some one the premises for comparison—I can tell it as being distinct from all other linen; I am certain it is my property, because it was ordered to have no marks, and to be of a certain weight and character, which is not general in the trade—I have not weighed this.
Cross-examined. We supply this linen to no other party but Mr. Speer—it is made specially for his house, and our firm put on a special mark, which Mr. Speer knew nothing about till I came here.
CHARLES DEVON . I am a general dealer and cabman, and live at the Albany Mews, Albany Road, Camberwell—I know the prisoner, who keeps a marine store dealing shop at 77, Snowsfields, Bermondsey—on 9th November, about 11 a.m., I went there—the prisoner said "There is a lot of damaged canvas," pointing out some of this linen to me—she said, "Is it worth 5l. to you?"—I said "I don't know"—that was all the conversation that day; next day, the 10th, I went back about 10 a.m.—she called it canvas, not rags—I understood there was about 4 cwt., and I thought it was worth about 1l. a cwt.—there were 9 pieces; I gave her 4l. for the 9—she did not tell me where she got it from, I did not ask her, I understood it was damaged stuff from a sale, that is what she told me—she did not tell me that, I understood it—she said something about a sale—I said before the Magistrate "She said she bought them at a sale"—she did say so, that was the first time I saw her—I paid the money and took the goods away on the 10th—I took them to Mr. Anscomb, Rodney Street, Old Kent Road, where the police discovered them; he is a sheep skin dresser—I left them there for his approval—I have dealt at the prisoner's shop before.
Cross-examined. I have bought goods of her before—these goods were in the back part of her shop—it was an open sale—the goods are worth the money I gave—she deals in second-hand things; she is a marine store dealer.
By the COURT. I work my cab business in my spare time—I am married—I have not a marine store, I am a general dealer, I attend sales—I hire a cab and use my own horse—I was a proprietor last year.
Re-examined. A marine store means a variety of things, furniture—I deal in all kinds of things.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD (City Detective). On 10th November I saw the prisoner in Ford's custody—I told her I was a detective officer of the City, and I was going to take her into custody for stealing 10 pieces of linen from opposite 39, Foster Lane on the evening of the 8th inst.—I said "You will be further charged with receiving the same, well knowing it to have been stolen; you sold the linen to a man of the name of Devon to-day for 4l. "—she said "I only sold him rags; I took the cheque, but I did not steal them"—Devon paid her by cheque—I conveyed her to Cloak Lane Police-station, where she was charged; she made no reply—the goods were afterwards brought by Ford to the station, and were shown to her—Devon was there, and said that she was the woman that he bought them of—she said nothing—I searched the premises with Ford, and found there 14 sheets of vellum, 49 yards of holland, about 30 yards of linsey in three pieces, 4 packets of new labels, and some pieces of canvas
with marks on them; they have been identified—I found them in the back parlour, covered up with bags and sacks, pieces of canvas, and so forth—there was no furniture in the shop for sale, only a bit of furniture in the parlour—there were bits of old paper and old sheep skins and rags, and so forth, at the back part of the shop—I afterwards received these small pieces of paper from Mrs. Joy.
Cross-examined. I know the prisoner has been for some time in the neighbourhood—the kitchen is on the same floor as the shop, a little farther on—the 49 yards of linen had never been undone.
THOMAS FORD (Policeman M 73). On Thursday, 10th November, I went with Oldhampstead to the prisoner's shop, which is a marine store; old horseshoes, keys, and nails are sold there—I have known the shop for a considerable time; there was never any furniture in the window—I went in with Oldhampstead in plain clothes—I said "We are police officers; we have come about that bale of linen you sold this morning"—she said, 'I have had no bale of stuff"—I said, "You sold some to Mr. Devon this morning for 4l. "—she said she had sold nothing but rags to Mr. Devon; Mr. Devon did buy some rags of her—she said she had bought them, but she did not know from whom—I said "We shall search the place"—she said, "You can, you will find nothing but what belongs to me"—I then discovered this vellum—I searched the place and found the articles—she was then taken into custody.
Cross-examined. She said she had sold nothing but white rags—I have known her for ten years—I know from my older comrades that she has been in the neighbourhood 23 years—I found numerous other articles connected with her business—the kitchen is on the same floor.
CAROLINE AMELIA JOY . I am female searcher at the Cloak Lane Police-station, Cannon Street—on 10th November I searched the prisoner at the station, and found on her an invoice torn in very small pieces and a pair of new gloves in her dress pocket. (The pieces of the invoice were not produced.)
VICTOR ROBERT CHURTON . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Brockhard and Vollerin, glove manufacturers, of 124, Wood Street—I identify these gloves as being of our manufacture—on 8th November a parcel containing 12 dozen of gloves similar to these was done up, with an invoice inside, and sent to Messrs. Barker's, of Kensington—we had a complaint from Messrs. Barker that they had not received them.
WILLIAM JAMES NEWMAN . I am employed at the Globe Parcels Express, Limited—on 8th November I received a parcel from Messrs. Dewar and Barnes's man, Causton, to go to Kensington and I put them in my van, and when I arrived at Ropemaker Street, our chief office, I found the parcel was missing.
THOMAS LOOSEY . I am a manufacturer of vellum at the Surrey Works, Marlborough Road, Old Kent Road—this vellum was manufactured for Messrs. MacCorquodale and Co., and supplied to them about two months ago.
JAMES SKINNER . I am foreman to Messrs. MacCorquodale and Co., printers, of the Armoury, Southwark—this holland is theirs; I last saw it about six weeks ago—I won't swear if this vellum is theirs; stuff similar to it was supplied to us—we use the holland specially for the Government contracts.
Cross-examined. Since we heard of this affair I have taken stock of
the holland and find a few pieces missing; nothing has been reported missing of the vellum—we have large quantities of it; it should have been reported to me, but has not been.
The prisoner received a good character, in reply to which MR. HUTTON proposed to call police evidence as to the character of the shop. The COMMON SERJEANT ruled that general evidence of the police could not be given to rebut general evidence of character.
GUILTY.*—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. F. FULTON Defended.
GILBERT HOWARD A'BECKETT TERRELL . I am a solicitor, practising at 22, Lawrence Pountney Lane, in the City, and I am a Commissioner of Oaths—in June last the prisoner, who was a stranger, was brought to me by a man named Romilly, of whom I knew nothing, to obtain for him a loan upon a legacy of 1,000l., which he alleged was payable to him at the death of an old lady—he required I think 700l. to pay off four charges then existing on the legacy, that he had already created—a copy of the will was brought to me, which I was told was the will under which he was entitled, and that was all the information I received—he said the old lady was 87 years of age—before I could put the matter in train to obtain a large advance I was told by Romilly that an immediate advance was wanted; that was not in the prisoner's presence in the first instance, but it was afterwards repeated in his presence—the prisoner was a tea traveller I believe, and the immediate advance was to obtain tea with, I believe—a client of mine made an advance through me of 19l. 10s.—I took from the prisoner as security this fifth charge (produced) on the 1,000l.—I also took this Statutory declaration of the facts as stated to me—I prepared a draft of that in my own handwriting, which the prisoner took home, and after three or four days, I think, brought it back signed "Approved, Albert Nash"—before he declared it, I read it over to him—he had part of the money before the declaration was actually made—I was present when he subscribed and declared this document before me—I saw him sign "Albert Nash"—a promissory note for 24l. 10s. at three months was given; the note was Butler's, endorsed "Albert Nash"—it was handed to me for my client, Mr. Darvell, I acted for him all through—that note was to cover the 19l. 10s. advanced, I took it as a collateral security—when that was due it was presented and dishonoured; Nash and the drawer were sued on it and judgment recovered, but the Sheriff had to withdraw, as there was a bill of sale over the whole of the furniture—I have not recovered a sixpence on behalf of my client. (The declaration was read. The prisoner by it declared that he had resided at 4, Newcomen Road, Finchley, for three years, and that the contents of that residence were his absolute property, and unencumbered by bill of sale, mortgage, settlement, or otherwise.)
Cross-examined. I cannot say who Romilly was; he was introduced to me by Mr. Thomas, who has been a client of mine for several years—I don't think I saw Romilly except in reference to this matter—I saw him a few days before I saw Nash—Thomas introduced Romilly, and Romilly introduced Nash—Romilly told me he knew a person who wanted to have
an advance—the draft declaration is in my writing, I made it up from information given me by Romilly, and I believe I had what I was told was a copy of the will under which he was entitled to the legacy of 1,000l.—I did not draw it up in his presence—it is not a long document; I read it over to him after the engrossment, and I believe I read the draft declaration to him at my office a day or two before he declared it; my impression is I did; he brought it back and he had written "Approved, Albert Nash" on it—I gave the draft declaration, when I had finished writing it, to Romilly—Nash and Romilly brought it back; I believe I read it over then—Nash's name was on it when he brought it back—I read it over to him when he brought it back signed "Approved" as a matter of precaution—I have not been asked before to-day whether I read the draft to him—my impression is I read it, because there were some blanks in it that wanted filling up—every word of it is mine except "Approved, Albert Nash"—that is in pencil inked over—the ink is all Nash's—I am not certain about the "Approved" in pencil, it seems different writing—this draft was not entirely drawn up by me from documents placed in my possession by Romilly, acting for the prisoner—the only document I had was the copy of the will—I don't think I ever asked the prisoner whether there was a bill of sale on his furniture before I drew up this declaration—I swear I read over the engrossment to him—I won't swear I read the draft over—I have had Romilly subpoenaed, I don't know if he is here—afterwards the actual declaration was sworn before me—I don't think I was acting as solicitor for him—the prisoner paid my charges—the mortgagor always pays the mortgagee's charges—I said before the Magistrate I would act if I was properly retained—I never received a retainer—I was paid a guinea, I cannot say whether by Nash or Romilly—I was acting as solicitor for Mr. Darvell, but not for Nash, I had no retainer from him—I said before the Magistrate I was acting for both parties because nobody else was acting in the matter—I swear I read over every word of the declaration before it was sworn—there was some discussion as to the Trustees at the time—I cannot say if Romilly was present at the time—I was not asked before the Magistrate whether the declaration was read over before it was sworn—I and the prisoner were represented by Counsel—I don't remember that they asked me such a question—I read over the engrossment because of some alteration in the Trustees—we went right through it, and I altered some names—I think Romilly was present when it was read over; no one else I think but Romilly and the prisoner—I have no entry in my diary of this transaction—it is not usual—the total amount of advance made by Mr. Darvel was 19l. 10s.—I had a guinea out of that; I suppose the prisoner had the rest—I received a letter since this matter, I think it is from Romilly—I am not very familiar with his writing—it gives his address, and deals with this case—I had great difficulty in subpoenaing him—I am not aware that a suggestion was made before the Magistrate that the declaration was given to Romilly, and that he read it over to the prisoner—he told me Butler was a good man, employed at Crosse and Blackwell's, and I find he moved three days before the bill became due, and was not at Crosse and Blackwell's—I sued Butler and the prisoner on one occasion—I signed judgment against them, and had to proceed under Order 14—I obtained judgment.
Re-examined. The judgment is worth nothing at all, I fear—Butler has
gone; he keeps moving about—I heard he had left Crosse and Blackwell's employment—the prisoner had the draft and plenty of time to read it—when he brought it back I read it over to him before he signed it—I take no note of these things.
BY MR. FULTON. I don't know if when I was asked at the police-court whether I had read over the declaration to him I refused to say; I don't believe so—I have no recollection of it.
WILLIAM JAMES HOLLINGSWORTH . I am assistant to my father, an auctioneer at 13, High Holborn—on 11th February we had this bill of sale for 68l. on the household furniture and effects at 4, Newcomen Road Finchley, executed by the prisoner—it was registered on 12th February and was in force on 24th June, when about 40l. was owing; it is in existence now—about 20l. has been paid off.
EDWARD ELWIN DARVELL . I am a stockbroker; my offices are at the White House, Telegraph Street, City—Mr. Terrell acted as my solictor in this matter and all he did was with my sanction and authority—these two cheques were given by me to Mr. Romilly on my solicitor's instructions and advice—I have never been paid anything—I instructed my solicitor to take proceedings on the promissory note—the amount is still due.
Cross-examined. I know nothing of Romilly—I cannot say if he has been subpoenaed—these are the cheques; they are payable to Romilly and endorsed by him—one is 23rd and the other 24th June; the first was late in the evening—the promissory note was for 24l. 10s.; the prisoner got 19l. 10s.—I don't think anybody has had the difference; I have not had it—I might have had it if the bill had been paid—I suppose the difference of 5l. is for interest and contingencies—I paid 19l. 10s. for the bill and am but of pocket—the 5l. was for interest—I know nothing of the guinea paid to Mr. Terrell.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I never read the draft or the declaration."
Witness to Character.
Cross-examined. He is a tea dealer; he had two shops a short time ago—I believe he has not one now—he lives at 4, Newcomen Road—I don't know if he has any business or occupation at the present time—I suppose it is five years since he had a tea shop—I have never been mixed up in his affairs—I received two legal processes on his behalf; they were a writ and a County Court summons—they were sent to me because I was in the City, and Finchley was out of the jurisdiction of the Court; that is what he told me—I had nothing to do with them; I do not pay his debts.
Re-examined. I don't know that that process was the one upon this particular promissory note.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Discharged on his own recognisances in 30l. to come up for judgment when called on.
The prosecutor, a sailor, did not answer when called upon his recognisances. No evidence was offered for the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
58. JUAN NULANO (23) , Unlawfully taking Julia Reynolds, a girl under 18, out of the possession and against the will of her, mother with intent to carnally know her. Second Count, having unlawful carnal knowledge of Julia Reynolds, a girl under 16.
MESSRS. MEAD and ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended.
At the conclusion of the evidence MR. BESLEY submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury as to the second Count, as the girl had stated she was 17, and as her appearance gave the prisoner reasonable grounds for believing she was over 16. MR. MEAD concurred in this. MR. BESLEY then submitted that there was no case upon the first Count, as the girl had left her home permanently of her own accord (Queen v. Olifer, 10 Cox; Queen v. Primault, Foster and Finlayson 1; Queen v. Hibbert); that her father, being alive and not separated or divorced from his wife, the mother was under coverture and could have no legal possession or control of the girl. The COMMON SERJEANT considered that there was no case to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 28th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
BENJAMIN FRANK LINNETT . I am a solicitor, in partnership with Mr. Daniel Jones, under the name of Daniel Jones and Linnett, at 1, Quality Court, Chancery Lane—I acted for Edward Jenkins, who was claiming from Mr. James a sum of 9l. 15s. 9d. for goods sold and delivered, and I caused this Mayor's Court summons to be served—before I caused a second summons to be served on him I saw the defendant at my office; he gave the name of Newsome, and said he had been instructed by Mr. James to call upon me to make an offer of composition for another debt. (Due to Richard Kimpton)—he also handed me this notice of appearance, and offered 2s. 6d. in the pound, and said he believed I had been instructed on behalf of Mr. Jenkins as well—I said I did not know; matters of that sort were done by my clerk, but if so, I would put this offer of 2s. 6d. before Mr. Jenkins, and if he accepted the 2s. 6d. in the pound I would write to Mr. Newson, the solicitor—my client did not accept the composition, and I did not write, and I did not see the prisoner again till I got to the police-court—I have not received either to these sums. (The first receipt was headed "Quality Court" and was for 2l. received from Charles Richard James, being the composition for a debt due to Mr. E. Jenkins of 9l. 15s. 9d., and 1l. 1s. agreed costs, and was signed "Daniel Jones and Linnett." The second receipt was also headed "Quality Court" and was for 4l. received from Charles Richard James; being the composition for a debt due to Mr. Kimpton, with 1l. 2s. 10d. costs, signed "Daniel Jones and Linnett")—those are fictitious—all our receipts are on printed forms—I went down and saw Mr. James, and then went to Bow Street.
Cross-examined. An information for a warrant was sworn there—I don't remember the date of the information, but I daresay it was 19th October—as far as I know these debts have not been paid.
Mayor's Court summons for 19l. 5l. 1d. in reference to Mr. Kempton—I also owed Mr. Jenkins 5l. 15s. 9d.—they were both for meat which had been delivered—I first knew the prisoner about a week before I got the Mayor's Court summons; he was introduced to me by a gentleman living close by me, as a builder and a man of means, and lodged him—on a Sunday morning the prisoner and I were walking together—I had never had a summons before, and I asked him what I should do, and he said "There is only one way; you can enter an appearance, and that will put it off a month, and I will go and offer them 1s. in the pound"—he arranged to see them on Monday or Tuesday, and he went up to town and came back and said if he had known I could have paid 2s. 6d. in the pound he would have paid it out of his own pocket and brought me the receipts—I said I could pay 2s. 6d. in the pound if he would go and see Messrs. Jones and Linnett again, and he said he would go and see them and offer them that, and while he was in town I wrote saying that I could spring my offer of 2s. 6d. and makes it 4s.—I then received this telegram, and next morning I went to town and spoke to the prisoner about it—I had also received a letter from him besides the telegram, and I brought them both with me, but I cannot swear that I showed them to him—this letter is in the prisoner's writing; I have seen him write. (Dated 8 Charlton Crescent, Islington, stating that he had wired to the witness the result of his arrangement with Jones and Linnett, and that he had found they also acted for Jenkins, and stating that he would come down and bring receipts.) I saw him at Cannon Street Station about 10 o'clock by appointment with this letter in my possession, and went with him to the Mitre Tavern, and there gave him the amount of these two receipts less 1l.—he said "Oh, never mind, I have some money; I will pay that; that will be all right"—he owned me 2l. at that time—we then went to the Free Library, Quality Court, and he said it I waited there he would go and pay the money to Jones and Linnett, and bring me back the receipts—in about 20 minutes or half an hour he cam back, and threw these two receipts on the table, and said "There you are me boy"—he said that Mr. Jenkins, one of the plaintiffs, was there, and cut up rough—about a week after that I received the second summons in the Mayor's Court, and then saw somebody from Messrs. Jones and Linnett, and produced these two receipts, and shortly after that I saw the prisoner at islington, and told him it was no use putting it on, as I had found out they were forgeries.
Cross-examined. It was just after I got the second summons that I told him they were forgeries—on the 23rd we were in Mitre Court, and it was about a fortnight after that—I swear that letter is in the prisoner's writing; I have seen him write lots of times—I cannot swear that either of these receipts is in his writing—I have not paid these two debts yet—I gave him the money in the public-house in gold and silver; there were people in the bar, but none whom I know—I have no memorandum from him to show that I handed over the money—I will swear I gave him the money—I was glad to get rid of the debt by paying four shillings in the pound.
Re-examined. I had never disputed owing this money until he suggested my making an appearance—I went as a witness against the prisoner in another case—I communicated with Mr. Linnett, and he went to Bow Street with me to swear the information.
By MR. HUTTON. My present solicitors are Thompson and Ward; they prosecuted the prisoner on another charge at Clerkenwell; the charge was dismissed: I read it in the paper—they are instructed by me—I know the Grand Jury have found a true bill, which is here.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Detective Sergeant). On the 24th the prisoner was brought to Bow Street, and I told him I had a warrant for his arrest for knowingly uttering a receipt for 3l. 1s., and read it to him—he made no reply.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
60. GEORGE BIANCHI (26), ROSE ANDRINO (33), and ELIZA ANDRINO (15) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of George Rudolph Hunt, and stealing 77 forks, 39 spoons, 24 knives, three pepper-castors, and a pair of sugar-tongs, his goods. Second Count, receiving the same.
MESSRS. DILL and METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON appeared for Bianchi and Rose Andrino, and MR. FRITH for Eliza Andrino.
GEORGE RUDOLPH HUNT . I am the proprietor of the Junior Garrick Club, Adelphi Terrace—on 19th October, about 1.30 a.m., I saw the premises closed up, and about 8 o'clock next morning I was aroused by the hall porter, and went downstairs and found the pantry window open and plate and other articles stolen—these 77 forks, 39 spoons, and 24 knives are mine; I identify them as the property of the Junior Garrick Club.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I identify them by the initials "J. G. C."—mine is the only place of business which has those initials—I bought the knives at Turner's and the plate at Sell's, in Regent Street—the hall porter was the last who saw the premises; I saw him lock all up; he had only to put out the gas.
Re-examined. I do not know from my own knowledge that the place was safely shut up.
ABRAHAM KAUFFMAN . I am a jeweller, of 107, Waterloo Road—the two female prisoners brought these 77 forks to me; I do not remember what date it was, but it was on the Saturday as I went before the Magistrate on the Monday—the younger one said "We want to sell them," and I asked them where they got them from, and she said they had been in an hotel and had given it up—I then saw they were in the list, and gave information to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. These are the Junior Garrick Club forks—this was about 4 o'clock—another customer came in while the prisoners were there, and they waited till he was served—I have no assistant; only a man at a bench—I gave 1l. 12s., 6d. for them, and directly I had bought them I saw them in the list, and informed the police—they are not silver—the elder prisoner spoke to the younger—I have no doubt it was on a Saturday, because I went to the police-court on the Monday—they were in my shop altogether about 20 minutes—I next saw them standing in the dock in the police-station, and they asked me if they were the women, and I said "Yes"—I told the police how they were dressed.
Cross-examined by Mr. FRITH. I have been in this shop 25 years—during that time it has come to my knowledge that many people who have bought things at Debenham's and elsewhere, have sent women to sell and pawn them, or to dispose of stolen goods—dealers generally pawn things without any intention of taking them out again—I go to
sales and buy goods, and sometimes I buy of dealers, and sometimes of pawnbrokers—I am accustomed to the jewellery trade—it is in the interest of pawnbrokers that the person should take out the article pawned—some persons get their living like that; they go and buy at sales, and then try and get rid of them at pawnbrokers'—those men are generally known, and so they get a young woman to go and pawn the things, as if they belonged to her—pawnbrokers generally know the dealers, so men employ persons to pledge the things for them.
Re-examined. I have no doubt the two prisoners came into my shop—I did not notice the initials on the things.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I lock the premises every night—I go round to every window and every door; not with Mr. Hunt.
Re-examined. When I came down in the morning I missed some things, and I then remembered the night before—as soon as I saw the window was open I searched and missed the plate and table cloths—I had fastened that window the night before.
FREDERICK GRAY (Detective Officer L). About 2.30 p.m. on Saturday, 22nd November, I was at Kennington Road Police-station—Kauffman made a communication to me, and I went to his shop, and there saw 77 forks, 2 fish knives, 35 spoons, and 3 epergnes—I kept observation on the shop, and later in the day I saw the prisoner Eliza go there—from her manner I directed an officer to take her in custody—subsequently I went to Kennington Road Police-station; and saw her there, and produced this property, and said "Where did you get this property from?"—she said "A young woman met me at Waterloo Bridge, and asked me to sell them"—I said "Do you know her name?"—she said "They call her Alice"—I said "Where does she live?"—she said "52, Tottenham Court Road"—I asked where she lived—she said "25, Stangate Street"—I went there, and saw the prisoner Rose Andrino, and said "I am a police officer"—she said "Me do not understand English," or words to that effect—I then went upstairs with the prisoner Rose, and there saw Bianchi—I said "I am a police officer; I am going to search your room; I have got a young woman in custody"—I asked who this pepper-box belonged to, which I found in a cupboard—he said "That belongs to myself"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "I bought it"—I searched further, and found seven knives, four spoons, and four forks identified by Mr. Hunt—I asked Bianchi who they belonged to—he said he did not know, and Rose then said something to him in a foreign language—they were then taken to Kennington Road Station, and subsequently to Bow Street, where they were charged—I accompanied the sergeant who searched the premises, and other articles were found.
Cross-examined. I have not got a note of the conversation at the station—it is Mr. Howard Vincent's order that we should take down any conversation that takes place between the police and the person taken in custody—I have been ten and a-half years in the force—at the time Eliza made that statement I was busily engaged, and had not time to take it down—I know I have done my duty—I went to 52, Tottenham Court Road, and the person in charge of that house said that no such person lived there—no one is here from that house—two officers went with me.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I made no note of what occurred at Bianchi's.
GEORGE SLEIGH . I am assistant to Mr. Joseph Bates, a pawnbroker, of 22, Lower Marsh, Lambeth—I produce a pair of shoes pawned at my place on 20th October by Eliza Andrino, for 4s., in the name of Ann Blanch, of Crozier Street.
CHARLES RESTELL . I am a waiter at the Junior Grarrick Club—these shoes (produced) are mine—I last saw them on the night before this robbery took place, on a lower shelf in the pantry near where the entrance took place.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). On 22nd October, about 6 o'clock, I saw the three prisoners at Kennington Road Police-station, and assisted in taking them to Bow Street—before starting I said to Bianchi "You will be charged with being concerned with the two women in breaking and entering the Junior Garrick Club on the night of the 18th, and stealing there from plate to the value of 50l. "—he said "I did not take them there; I only dined at the house; I slept with an Italian friend at 62, Neild Street"—I went with Oray to 25, Stangate Street, to a room jointly occupied by the prisoners—there was one bed in it—I found there this photographic frame, in which were eight pawnbrokers' duplicates and other articles, one of which relates to a pair of boots—on Monday, the 24th, before going before the Magistrate at Bow Street, I said to Bianchi, "I found this at your lodging, do you know anything about it?"—he said "Yes, that is mine"—I said "I found some pawnbrokers' tickets in it"—he said "Oh, yes, I put them there"—I also found there a little clock, some knives and forks, napkins, handkerchiefs, and other articles relating to other robberies within 12 days—I had received information of a burglary in Craven Street.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. The conversation took place in the lobby of Bow Street Police-court—he was arrested at his house, and taken to Kennington Road Station and searched—I made no note of the conversation.
CHARLES CLARK . I am assistant to Mr. Davidson, a pawnbroker, of 145, Waterloo Road—I produce four knives, live spoons, and two pepper-castors, pawned there on 19th October by the prisoner Eliza, for 3s., in the name of James Blanch, 15, Colchester Street.
WILLIAM HENRY VARNEY . I live at 25, Stangate Street, Lambeth—the two female prisoners came to lodge at my house on 20th August, and Bianchi has been in the habit of visiting them for the last three weeks—he has slept there, and we gave them notice on account of his doing so, and the girl said that he was her stepfather, so we allowed him to remain—he slept there about eight nights out of three weeks—the girl paid the rent, 7s. a week.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I understand she is between 15 and 16—they represented themselves as mother and daughter, and she said she worked at the Alhambra—the mother was supposed not to understand English, and the daughter did all the correspondence.
night before.—I missed all my plate out of the dining-room and many other articles, amongst them two brushes, an antimacassar, and a waterproof—these are them (produced).
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. The prisoner Eliza is a ballet-girl at the Alhambra.
EMMA HERRING . I live at 16, Norfolk Street, Strand—I identify this knife and handkerchief (produced) as my property—I last saw them on 25th May, when they were stolen from my premises with other articles.
Eliza Andrino received a good character.
GUILTY on the second Count. The Prosecutor and Jury recommended ELIZA ANDRINO to mercy.— Judgment respited. BIANCHI— Two Yews' Hard Labour. ROSE ANDRINO— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 29th, 1887.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
JAMES WILSON . I am a coachman, living at 121, Earl Street, Marylebon—about 20 minutes to 1 on 18th October I was passing through Devonshire Street on my way home, when I was attacked by the prisoner and another man from behind—my watch was taken, out of my left hand breast pocket—they ran away—I cried "Stop thief!" but was not quick enough for them—I went to the police-station and gave information—a week afterwards I was called to the station, where I identified the prisoner from among others; I swear positively he is the man.
Cross-examined. They both came behind me; they ran away—I did not leave work till half-past 11—I have not seen the other man since—there was a struggle between us; I called out as well as I could—I saw no one else in the street—I was making my way towards the Edgware Road—the prisoner and the other man ran towards Lisson Street way—I was struck three or four times in the ribs by them; I did not fall; it did not take very long—I had a good look at their faces when they had done with me; there was moonlight, it was not total darkness.
Re-examined. I had ample opportunity of seeing the prisoner, and have not the least doubt he is the man.
MARY ANN MEDHURST . I live at 7, Christchurch Residences, Lisson Street, and am the wife of Charles Medhurst, a greengrocer—on Monday, 18th October, about half-past 12, I was outside my door waiting for my daughter, and I saw the prisoner running and another man behind him; I could not recognise the other one, he had a kind of white jacket and black coat over it—a few minutes after I saw Mr. Wilson, who halloaed out "Stop thief!" several times—I went across and spoke to him—the prisoner had gone—Lisson Street joins Devonshire Street, where the
prisoner ran—he is the man I saw—Mr. Wilson came up about a quarter of an hour afterwards, I should say, not longer; I was still waiting outside my door for my daughter to come home from the theatre.
Cross-examined. The prisoner ran past on the opposite side to me—the street is as wide as the distance from you to me—it was half-past 12 or 20 minutes to 1, I know the public-houses were shut up—the prisoner had a blue or black coat; I have known him some time about—a few neighbours were about in the street, as there always are—there may have been a good many at the doors; none of them are here—I was talking at the time.
Re-examined. The first time I saw the prosecutor was momentarily after the prisoner ran by; he did not stop and speak to me then, he was running on.
ARTHUR NICHOLAS (Policeman D 100). About half-past 12 on the night of 26th October I arrested the prisoner at the Marquis of Anglesea public-house from a description I had had of him—I said "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with another man in robbing a man of his watch in Devonshire Street on the night of the 18th"—the prisoner replied "I left this public-house at half-past 12 on that night and went straight home"—I took him to the station, where he was placed among six others, and identified by both the witnesses.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that on the night in question the prosecutor was in a public-house with men and women, and treated him and them; that he (the prisoner) fought with a man in Lisson Street, and got a black eye and ran away home; and that next day the prosecutor and a detective stood facing him at the bar of a public-house for 20 minutes, and did not charge him.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM KING . I am a builder, of 41, Tunbridge Street—on the night of 7th November, about four minutes past 10, I was passing by my house and noticed a light in my front parlour, which I occupy myself—the back parlour is unfurnished—I went upstairs, let myself in, and went to the front parlour door; it was locked as I had left it before; I went to the back parlour door opening into the passage, which was open—Underwood came out of the back parlour and tried to pass me—I collared him and brought him along the passage out on to the bottom of the steps; there I held him, and Duggan came out of the house and ran across and up the street—while I was holding Underwood Payne came across the street and caught hold of my right arm and said "Let him go"—I said "No"—a policeman came up and Payne rushed out of the crowd of 20 or 30 people who had gathered round, and went away to the back of the crowd—I gave Underwood in charge, and told the constable to bring him inside to see what damage was done—as we were going up the steps from the footway Payne kicked at me but missed his mark and just touched my calf—we went into the house—I found the middle door between the parlours was forced open and two boxes in the front parlour were ransacked—two pairs of trousers and a cricket suit and guernsey had
been taken out of the boxes and carried into the back parlour, an empty room, to be carried away—nothing was taken away—when I first got to the house I noticed Payne across the street—before I caught Underwood I looked over my short blind and saw some one with a lucifer match in his hand examining my couch, but I could not say who it was—I lot lodgings—about 9 o'clock before this I had been at home—I left the front door shut—none of my lodgers could have left the door open, I was the last in the house and out of the house—that was about nine.
Cross-examined by Underwood. I took you at my back parlour door—I did not tell you the detectives told me to say that—I did not say it was a taller man than you inside—I told you I would let you go if you told me who the men were, but I took you in my house—I had not been in the White Hart; I did not say I had been there.
Cross-examined by Payne. I saw you close to my door-steps—you came across and tried to rescue Underwood; other people were there—you were by my side; you did not have hold of my arm when the constable came—I gave Underwood into custody, and you went away—I knew you by sight, and gave a description of you—you deliberately made a kick at me—the constable did not tread on my foot at the station to tell me who you were when I came to identify you—the detectives never said anything to me.
Cross-examined by Duggan. I gave a description of you—I might have been at a coffee-shop on the 10th.
JAMES HODGKIN (Policeman E 450). On 7th November I was called to the prosecutor's house soon after 10 o'clock, and Underwood was given into my custody by Mr. King—Underwood said "Now, Mr. King, I will light my pipe in the doorway"—I said I should take him into custody, and I then asked Mr. King to allow me to see the door which was broken open—I went and found the inner door between the two parlours had been forced open—after the prisoners were charged I went back with Inspector Pinhorn into the back parlour—on the floor we found several matches that had been struck and this steel bar, such as used by burglars, was lying on the floor near the door that was broken.
Cross-examined by Underwood. You were on the doorstep when I first saw you—Mr. King only said he was compelled to charge you, and that the did not wish to do so, because he wanted to find the names of the other prisoners—he meant Payne by the taller man—he gave me a description of Payne.
Cross-examined by Payne. Mr. king did not tell me your name—he said you were a tall man dressed in dark clothes—I should not have know you if I had met you.
ALFERD NICHOLS (Detective E). I apprehended Payne on 8th November—I told I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with another man in stealing a gold watch, and also being concerned with two other men in committing a burglary in Tunbridge Street—he said "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station; he was placed among eight other men, and the prosecutor at once identified him as the man that was outside of his house.
Cross-examined. You were apprehended on suspicious of stealing a gold watch and chain; the prosecutor gave you the benefit of the doubt—I brought him and Mr. king in separately to identify you—I did not tread
on Mr. King's foot for him to pick you out—I was not in the room; the inspector was there.
BENJAMIN LEEK (Detective E). On 11th November I saw Duggan at the corner of Cromer Street—I told him I was a police officer, and should take him to the station on suspicion of being concerned with two others in committing a burglary at 41, Tunbridge Street on the night of the 7th—he said "I know nothing about it; I was not there; I can get witnesses to prove it"—he was placed among seven or eight others at the station, and Mr. King identified him—I apprehended him from a description given by Mr. King.
Cross-examined by Duggan. I did not see you before the 11th to my knowledge—I did not see you at King's Cross, nor with Payne.
WILLIAM BARNWELL (Detective E). On 7th November, as I was passing through Tunbridge Street about half-past 9, I saw the three prisoners standing together on the kerb about 30 yards from Mr. King's house—I am quite certain they are the men.
Cross-examined by Underwood. I had other business then to do than watch you; if I did nothing but watch you, I could not watch anybody else.
Cross-examined by Payne. I often see you all three together—if I had seen you in any other neighbourhood I might have been suspicious, but this was your own neighbourhood.
Underwood in his defence said that he was pausing the house when Mr. King asked him if he knew who had been in his house, and then said he would charge him unless he told him who had been in.
Payne said that since he had done three months for loitering he had led the life of a dog, owing to the detectives, who had got this charge up for him. Duggan asserted his innocence, and said it was a got up thing.
GUILTY. UNDERWOOD then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in January, 1883, and PAYNE** to one in November, 1883. A previous conviction of felony was charged in the indictment against DUGGAN**, but as this was shown to hare been a conviction of misdemeanour only, the Jury were directed to find a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 29th, 1887.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
NICHOLAS McELLISTER (Policeman). On 11th November, about 2.30 p.m., I met the prisoners in Marsham Street, Westminster—Walsh was carrying a sack—they saw me, and turned round and went into Great Peter Street—I followed them, and asked what they had in the sack—Walsh said "We have got some fowls, governor"—I said "Where did you get them?"—he said "A man gave them to me in the street"—I got assistance, and took them both to the station—Dickenson said "We intended to take them back again."
Thursday, 10th November, at 5 p.m., I saw my fowls fastened up in the fowl-house, and at 7 o'clock next morning I missed eight of them—I have got five back; this is one of them (produced)—they are worth half-a-crown each.
Witnesses for Dickenson.
HONOR COOK . I am the wife of Laurence Cook, a packer, of 27, Hyde Street, Belvedere Road—on this Thursday I was at Dickenson's mother's house, 31, Garden Street, Westminster, and saw him there from 9 a.m. till between 10 and 11 at night—he was there when I left, and I found him when I returned next morning at 9 o'clock—he stopped there till 11 o'clock, and then went away with his father, and never returned—I did not see him again till I was fetched to the Court—he is my nephew—I know Walsh as an honest, respectable, hard-working man.
Cross-examined. I know nothing about Dickenson from 10 o'clock on Thursday evening till 9 o'clock on Friday morning; he had only just come down from his bed when I entered the house—he is a plumber and glazier.
JOHN DICKENSON . The prisoner is my son—I make carriage-mops and sell them—I live at 31, Garden Street, Westminster—on Thursday, 10th November, I went to bed at 11 p.m., leaving my son there; he had been at home all day—I got up at 7 o'clock, and had breakfast about 8 o'clock, and he was indoors then—he went out with me to Covent Garden, and left me in Great Chapel Street, Westminster about 2.10, when he went on one side of the road and I on the other—he said "Go home, father: I will be home as soon as you are"—I saw Walsh on the other side, and a man said "George, I want you"—I walked on to the lamp-post—Walsh had a bag on his back, and there was another boy with him who ran away.
Cross-examined. I did not see my son in bed when I went to bed—he sleeps upstairs, but I said to his mother "I will bolt the door"—he and Walsh have known one another for years—he was assisting me at this time, as he had been out of work three weeks as a plumber and glazier.
MARY QUINN . My husband is a general dealer, of Robertson Road, Westminster—I am Dickenson's aunt; he sleeps in the next room to me—three weeks ago last Thursday I saw him go up to bed at half-past 10—my husband went out to market at 5.30 next morning, and did not get back till 10 30, when Dickenson was having his breakfast—I saw him till 1.30 in the day—I saw him in bed at 5.30.
Cross-examined. He was then in the next room to us—he has taken his father's place at carpet-beating since his father and mother have been dead—he was able to breakfast at 10.30, because that was a wet week—I left the door unfastened—he could have got out at 8 o'clock if he wanted; there is a string and a kind of latch.
N. MCELLISTER (Re-examined). It is about a mile from 27, Hyde Street, to Mr. Key's house, and about the same or a little more from 31, Garden Street, and about a mile and a half from Milner Buildings—the prisoners were going towards Vauxhall Bridge—Markham Street, Westminster, is about a quarter of a mile from the Aquarium in the direction of Vauxhall Bridge Road towards the Embankment—they were going in the direction of Mrs. Key's when I first saw them, but they turned back—Dickonson was not carrying anything—I did not see a third boy.
Thursday I went to bed at 10.30, and went in and saw Dickenson in bed—he sleeps in a separate room—I went to Covent Garden Market on Friday morning, and came home and found him at breakfast at 10.30, and I last saw him about 11 o'clock.
Cross-examined. I always go to his room after he is in bed to see that all is right.
By the JURY. There is a market at Covent Garden on Friday—I went there to buy fowls.
Dickenson in his defence said that he was coming home with his father from Covent Garden and saw Walsh with a sack on his back, which he said was given him to sell by a young chap who to as with him, but who ran away, and they did not know what to do with the fowls, when the policeman stopped them.
Walsh in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that an old man and a young man asked him to ride in their cart, and to sell the fowls at a bird shop, and when he objected lie said "My brother stole his pigeons, and I stole his chickens."
DICKENSON— NOT GUILIT . WALSH— GUILTY on the Second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Robert Malcom Kerr, Esq.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH SMITH . I am the wife of John William Smith, we live at Walworth Road, Leytonstone—about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 25th October I was looking out of my bedroom window and saw Mrs. Donovan, my next door but one neighbour, go out—after that I saw a man standing nearly opposite; he crossed the road and came through the gate and down the area steps; I waited about five minutes and then the prisoner came to the gate and went down into the area also—I made a communication to my neighbour, Mr. Smith, and he went down—he came up, spoke to a policeman, and when the men came out of the house the policeman caught hold of one, with the assistance of Mr. Smith, and the other ran away—I saw this property (produced).
GEORGE SMITH . I am assistant curator at St. Thomas's Hospital, and live at Walworth Road, Leytonstone, next door to Mrs. Donovan—on 25th October at half-past 3 p.m. a communication was made to me—I came out of my front door and saw a constable; I spoke to him—the prisoner came out of the gateway of the house, the constable caught hold of his coat-tail and I threw myself on him and fetched him to the ground and helped to convey him to the station—the other man got away—at the station I saw the prisoner searched, and these spoons, silver forks, pair of sugar tongs, sugar basin, and a lot of plate (produced) taken from him.
MARY DONOVAN . I am a widow, living at Walworth Road, Leytonstone—I identify this as my property, its value is 25l. about; the prisoner is a stranger to me—on 25th October about 3 p.m. I left my house, leaving no one in charge—I returned at half-past 4 and found the front door bolted, I could not get in—I had left it unbolted—I found the area door and the dining room window open—I had left the area door bolted and the window fastened—I missed this property; the place was in great disorder.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. In answer to the charge you said something about you did not do it, but that a gentleman called you.
JOSEPH MANN (Policeman J 15). About a quarter-past 3 p.m. on 25th October I was passing through Walworth Road—from information given me I watched Mrs. Donovan's house—I heard the sound of the door, turned back and saw the prisoner and another man leaving the house—as soon as they saw me they commenced to run—I followed and caught the prisoner, the other man escaped—I was assisted by Mr. Smith—I took the prisoner to the station—the prisoner took this property himself out from his pocket—he was charged subsequently—he made no reply.
JAMES LEONARD (Inspector E). About 4 o'clock on 25th October I was in charge at Leytonstone Police-station when the prisoner was brought in and charged—the property was found on him—I went and examined the premises—I found marks on both sashes of the dining room window, and the fastening was lying inside on the floor, and had apparently been forced off—a dressing-case was on the dining room table, attempts had been made to force it open; there were marks corresponding to this jemmy which was on the dining room table—I went into the bedroom; I found there drawers and boxes had been turned out and their contents thrown on the floor—there was a despatch-box on the bed, that had been broken open, with marks on it corresponding to this jemmy—the prosecutrix came to the station and charged the prisoner, who said nothing—on the way to the cells he said "I aid not steal at all."
The prisoner in his defence said that he was standing on the other side of the road when a gentleman called him across and asked him to carry the stuff promising him money for doing so.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
GODDEN also PLEADED GUILTY> to a previous conviction of felony at West Ham.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
REED— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. BESLKY Defended.
The evidence was interpreted to the prisoners.
Cross-examined. The spot was pointed out to me where a knife was picked up in Neptune Street. (The witness pointed out on the plan the several spots afterwards referred to in the evidence, and copies of the plans were handed to the Jury.)
MATILDA CUMLEY . I am single, and live at 21, Adams Gardens, Rotherhithe—I knew William Bottomley—I was keeping company with him at the time of his death—he was 19 years of age last birthday—on Monday night, 17th October, I was in the China Hall public-house in Neptune Street, Lower Road, Peptford—Bottomloy, James Moyse, and Mary Ann Wells were with me—a man whose name I then did not know, but whom I know now to be William Connor, was there with Susan Anderson, who I also did not know then—soon after 12 o'clock we all six left the public-house together, and at the corner of Neptune Street Bottomley and Connor left us—we walked on a short way in the direction of the Wesleyan Chapel; we stopped there, and two Italians came by—the prisoner is one of them—the other man was shorter—the prisoner said "Three to one is too many"—Moyse said "Shut it"—the prisoner then hit Moyse in the eye—I ran and screamed out for my young man Bottomley—he came running up—when the prisoner struck Moyse he returned the blow with his hand, I think, and I saw him run into the middle of the road—he did not fall—when Bottomley came up the shorter Italian hit him across the head, I think, with a stick, which he had in his hand—they had a struggle, and Bottomley fell down, and the Italian on the top of him—I pulled him off by his hair, and he ran away without his hat—the prisoner ran towards the Salvation Army Barracks, and the short one towards the Royal Oak—we all five then walked along towards Albion Street, past the Wesleyan Chapel—we stopped to say good night—I then missed my brooch, and Bottomley and I walked back towards the Wesleyan Chapel to find it; as we nearly got towards the chapel the prisoner rushed out from the chapel, like in a nook, and he struck Bottomley on the forehead and he brought his hand round, and I saw his hand go to Bottomley's side—I did not see anything in his hand—his hat was a little over his forehead, and he had his hands in his pockets, and his collar was up to his neck—he then ran away towards the Salvation Army Barracks—I screamed out; I don't know whether I said Polly or Jim, but they both came up—I did notice the others—Mysore came up directly and was going to run after the prisoner, but Bottomley said "Stop, Jim, I am stabbed," and we assisted him across the road to the chemist's shop—I then ran up Albion Street to see the deceased's sister, who lives there—I could not rouse her, and I returned to the chemist's shop—Bottomlry was still there—from some thing I heard I ran up to Union Road, to go to Bottomley's mother—as I was going along the Union Road I saw the prisoner—he was going up Union Road, on the opposite side, in the same direction as I was going—he was right opposite the Culling Road—I saw screaming at the time—I ran against a young man named Nicholls—the prisoner came half way into the road. when I ran into Nicholls' arms, and then he turned back, but I did not notice
which way he went—I saw him turn back to go towards the Royal Oak.—I then went back to the chemist's shop—I did not see the prisoner there—I cannot recollect whether Bottomley was still there—I went to the police-station as soon as I got to the chemist's shop; about three minutes after, I think it was—I there saw Bottomley's sister at the bottom, of the steps, and at the station I saw the prisoner; he was then in custody, he seemed as if he was, standing coming out of a doorway—the inspector did not speak to me—no one did, but as I went to the door I screamed out "That is the man"—he did not say anything then—when he was in the dock he said "It is a mistake"—that was soon after—I do not remember the inspector asking me anything—when Mary Wells spoke the prisoner said "It is a mistake; I have been to Walworth with my young woman"—I was quite sober, and so were all of us except Conner—next day I saw Bottomley, and he was dead.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was the only Italian at the station—I don't recollect telling the Magistrate that somebody said "Is that the man"—when the inspector was writing some one said "Would you know the man," and I said "Yes," and I rushed to the door and saw the prisoner—I screamed out "That is the man;" not when he was in the dock, but as he was coming out of the door—as he stood at the door some one asked me if that was the man—I and Bottomley left his mother's house on this night between 8 and 9 o'clock by our two selves—when we got to the public-house we found Moyse and Wells there—Connor came in about an hour afterwards with his young woman Anderson—we got into conversation with them—Moyse had had a glass of ale before Connor came in—they did not order any drink, only for their two selves—I think it had gone 12 when we left the public-house—I did not take any notice of any clock striking—the house does not close till half-past—Polly said "I think he has had a little drop to drink," meaning Connor—there was no disturbance or noise in the house; there was some singing on the other side, but I don't know who they were—we sang one song—we sang a little in the house before we left, me and Wells and a strange young woman, to ourselves—when we left the house, Connor and Anderson said they had to go to Church Street—that would be in the same direction to that in which Bottomley and I would go and also Moyse and Wells—we walked up to the corner of Neptune Street, where the Salvation Barracks are—Wells and myself were walking together at first; the men were only just behind us; they went on talking—there was nothing to call my attention to Connor—we walked on in the same order, and just at the corner Bortomley and Connor left us—we knew they were coming on immediately; I stood there with Moyse waiting for them, and then the Italians came up—it was all done very quickly; all in a minute—the taller Italian ran away first towards the Salvation Barracks and the other ran towards the Royal Oak—I have never seen him since—after this was over we girls went on singing again—I can't say whether it was a severe blow that Moyse gave the taller Italian—I had hold of Bottomley's arm and walked along with him first—I don't know who followed—Bottomley said to me "He has bit my thumb"—I knew that the others were following us; we stood at the corner to say "Good-bye" to them, and then I said "I have lost my brooch"—we all walked back to look for it—Bottomley and I went on and the others followed—I looked on the pavement for it on the same side as the Wesleyan Chapel—then the Italian came out of the nook of the
chapel; the blow was struck, and Bottomley exclaimed "I am stabbed"—it was all done very quickly—as soon as he had done it he ran away towards Neptuno Street—we could not see him then—there were two blows—Moyse ran as if in pursuit of him only a few steps before he was called back by Bottomley—I don't know what had become of Connor and Anderson at that time; when Moyse came back they were not there—he helped me with Bottomley across the road to the chemist's—I and Moyse and Wells assisted him to the chemist's—I did not notice any one else—he put his arm round my shoulders and Moyse was on the other side—we got him across very quickly, but he staggered before he got to the shop—we laid him down and I kicked at the door of the shop—then I went to Bottomley's sister in Union Street—while I was trying to rouse her I saw people accumulating at the corner, and on coming back to the chemist's shop I saw Bottomley on the pavement, and I rushed up the road screaming—it was opposite the Culling Road that I first noticed the Italian; he was on the opposite side of the pavement—I did not notice another man in front of me—I was screaming and he ran after me; it was the same man—then Nicholls met me right opposite Houghton's—I was very much frightened—I came back with Nicholls—I cannot tell anything definitely that occurred from the time I met Nicholls till I was at the station—as I was coming back with Nicholls I heard some whistles; I only heard one whistle blow—I don't remember anything that happened when I got back to the chemist's shop—I am quite positive that the same Italian that struck Moyse was the Italian who came out from the nook of the chapel with his hat slouched and his coat turned up—I did not see him with any weapon at all—Wells went for the doctor as soon as we got to the chemist's shop, and I went for Bottomley's sister—we did not go away together; we went in different directions—I did not see Wells when I got back—I did not notice any Italian women.
Re-examined. When I saw the prisoner in the disturbance with Moyse he was wearing his hat—I could see his face; I am quite sure of that—when he afterwards came from the chapel his hat was over his forehead—I saw his face then, and afterwards when I went to Bottomley's mother in Union Road I saw his face then—when I saw him at the station two gentlemen had him in custody—I screamed out "That's the man"—some one said "Is that the man?" and I said "Yes"—I am quite sure he is the man—I had not heard that there was a man in custody—I am quite sure of that; I did not know he was locked up—I did not go to the station expecting to see the man; I am sure of that—I went to the station because I saw a crowd going up that way—when I missed my brooch we all six went to look for it; I and Bottomley were in front, the others were not very far behind—as Wells and Moyse were running up they could see what he did to Bottomley—they came up directly; the man had only got two or three steps away.
By the COURT. When the prisoner hit Moyse the smaller one was on the ground with Bottomley—it was about 10 minutes after that that the man came out from the nook and struck Bottomley—I did not know the prisoner or his brother before.
JAKES MOYSE . I live at 15, Hawkestone Road, Rotherhithe; I am clerk at the wharf there—on Monday night, 17th October, I was at the China Hall public-house—William Bottomley was there; I knew him before; also Matilda Cumley and Mary Ann Wells; Connor and Susan
Anderson I did not know before—I got into conversation with them—we all left the public-house about 10 minutes past 12—I was sober, and so were the others, except I don't know about Connor—we went along towards the Salvation Army barracks—Bottomley and Cumley walked away at the corner of Neptune Street; I did not see where they went—the three women walked along the Lower Deptford Road towards the chapel—when we got a little way past the corner of Neptune Street I saw two Italians come by—they came from the Red Lion, Deptford, the same way we were going—the prisoner is one of the men; the other one was very much shorter—as they passed one of them exclaimed "Three is too many for one"—I could not say which one said that—in answer I said "Shut it"—the prisoner immediately turned round, came up to me, and struck me a violent blow in the left eye—I returned the blow, and he ran across the road—I could not say what the effect of my blow was; I am not sure where I hit him—Bottomley and Connor came running up at that time—as soon as Bottomley passed me the shorter Italian struck him across the head with a stick—Bottomley went to regain the stick, and in the struggle they both fell to the ground, Bottomley undermost and the Italian on the top—Cumley was standing by him, and she palled the Italian up by the hair of his head—the prisoner ran across the road, and I lost sight of him—I did not follow him—he ran in a straight line—when the short Italian got up he had no hat on—he ran in the direction of the Royal Oak—we six walked along together, past the chapel, to the cornet of Albion Street, where the chemist's shop is; we stopped there, and were just going to say good night—I believe Bottomley lived in Albion Street with his mother—Cumley put her hand up to her cloak and said "I have lost my brooch"—Bottomley said "Let us return and find it"—Cumley and Bottomley walked down towards the chapel—I stood at the corner; Wells, Connor, and Anderson were with me—Bottomley and Cumley had hardly got to the chapel when the prisoner sprang out from behind a pillar of the chapel gates—I was about 20 yards from the man—he made a lunge at Bottomley with his left hand to his left side; I could not see anything in his hand—I ran towards them, and as I passed Bottomley I was about five yards behind the prisoner—the prisoner was running in the direction of the Red Lion towards the Salvation barracks—as I passed Bottomley he called out to me "Jim, Jim, stop, I am stabbed"—I turned back, and went to his aide, and he said "Take me to a doctor's"—I and Cumley assisted him across the road to the chemist's—I did not notice whether Wells was there before that—I could see the prisoner plainly by the light of a lamp—he began to run immediately—his back was to me while he was running away—we let Bottomley gently down on the pavement between us—I did not know that he was seriously hurt at the time—I saw "Wells then; I sent her to get a doctor—shortly after a young man who I now know to be Vaughan came up—I told him what had occurred, and he blew a whistle—several police came up—as Bottomley fell his coat went back, and I saw he was saturated with blood—an ambulance was brought, and he was carried to the station—I followed by the side of the ambulance, and stayed at the station till I had given my evidence—I saw the prisoner again just after I had given my statement to the inspector, that was in about two or three minutes; he was between two plain-clothes constables—I said "That is the man"—I have no doubt of
him—he was the only Italian at the station—I have not seen anything of the shorter Italian.
Cross-examined. It was about half-past 9 when I entered the China-hall—Miss Wells was with me—we were there about half an hour before Bottomley and Cumley—I speak of the time by seeing the clock in the public-house—Connor and Anderson came in about half an hour after Bottomley and Cumley, it might be 20 minutes—I did not know Connor or Anderson before—Connor said "Good evening" when he came in; he got into conversation with us—I had seen him once or twice before; I knew him living in the neighbourhood—he joined our party—drink was ordered twice—they were all behaving very quietly—we left the house about half-past 12; we all six went out together; we were all going in the same direction as far as the Royal Oak—it is about seven minutes' walk from the China-hall—we were singing as we went along—we were perfectly sober; I would not answer for Connor or his young woman—I did not know that Bottomley and Connor were going to stay behind when we went on—they walked round by the turning and came back again—the two Italians passed us before they came back—I was standing still with the three girls—I am quite sure that it was the same man that struck me in the eye that came from the Wesleyan chapel—I struck him; he did not fall, he fell back into the road—I had never seen either of the Italians before—the taller one was just running across the road when Bottomley came up; he had run away before the shorter one used the stick—after the occurrence we went on very quietly—I believe we walked three and three—I and Miss Wells, and I believe Cumley, went first, and behind were Bottomley, Connor, and Anderson—we walked up the same side of the way as the Wesleyan chapel—I did not look behind me at all—we all walked on the pavement; we were almost in a line—there was no singing then—the brooch was missed when we got nearly to the Royal Oak, at the corner of Albion Street, I think—it was three or four minutes between the time of the shorter Italian running away and the blow being struck by the taller—in getting Bottomley across the road to the chemist's Miss Cumley had hold of his arm on the right and I had my arm round his waist on the left; Miss Wells was walking by the side of Miss Cumley, I do not think she had hold of him at all—she went for Dr. Nicholls—Miss Cumley left me with Bottomley while she went a few steps down Albion Street; I did not see her again; a crowd had collected; I did not hear her screaming—I heard a whistle blown—I did not notice the prisoner in the crowd looking over the shoulders of two persons when Bottomley was on the ground before the ambulance came—I did not see him taken into custody I went to the station with the ambulance—I did not know that there was a man in custody till I had given my evidence—we were in the office; the door was shut, and as the door opened the prisoner was standing outside between the two constables—I did not hear somebody say to Miss Cumley "Is that the man?"—she said "That is the man" as soon as she saw him—it was then about 20 minutes to 1—it was dark, the night was fine, but no moon—the man I followed was going in the direction of Neptune Street when Bottomley called me back.
sober; I don't think Connor was; I think his young lady was sober—when we reached Neptune Street, Bottomley and Connor left us—we went on a little way towards the Wesleyan Chapel—while we were waiting there two Italians came up—the prisoner is one of them; I saw his face—he said to Moyse "There are too many for one"—Moyse said "Shut it"—the prisoner came back and struck Moyse on the left arm—Moyse returned the blow; I could not say where he struck him, or the effect of the blow—when Moyse struck him he ran across the road; I did not see where he went—he stood across the road for some minutes—Cumley screamed out "Oh, Bill, there are two foreigners hitting Jim Moyse"—Bottomley and Connor then came running up—the shorter Italian struck Bottomley across the head with a stick—they struggled and fell to the ground; the shorter Italian fell on the top of Bottomley and bit him in the thumb—Cumley went to Bottomley's assistance and pulled the short Italian's hair; he ran up the road toward the Royal Oak—during this time the prisoner stood across the road, and as we passed on the opposite side of the road he went a little way up Culling Road, which runs into Lower Deptford Road and also into Union Road—the place where the fight took place is very nigh opposite where Culling Road comes into Lower Deptford Road—I did not lose sight of him when he went up the Culling Road; be went a little way up the road and across the road, and came to the corner of the railings, where there is a school—he then came back again and crossed the Deptford Road to the same side of the road as we were walking—we were walking along towards Albion Street when he crossed over to the Wesleyan Chapel side—I kept him in sight because I did not like the way of him standing about the street—I watched him—when he got to our side of the road he crept alongside of the wall till he got to the chapel, and then I lost sight of him—when we reached Albion Street Cumley missed her brooch, and she and Bottomley went back to look for it; we stood still—as Bottomley and Cumley got very near to the chapel the Italian, this man, came out with his hands in his pockets, and his bat over his eyes, and his collar up, and he struck Bottomley with his right hand, I think, and Bottomley twisted a bit, and this man hit him with his right hand, and caught him in the left side—I did not see what was in his hand—I said to Moyse "Oh, Jim, there is that man run to Bill Bottomley again," and we ran towards them—Bottomley said "Oh, Jim, Jim, stay; he has stabbed me"—Moyse was going to run after the Italian, but he then stopped—the prisoner ran in the direction of Neptune Street, and I lost sight of him—Bottomley was helped across to the chemist's shop, and I went for a doctor, and then to the police-station—as I was returning from the police-station in Lucas Street I saw two policemen in private clothes with the prisoner, and I at once said "That is the man"—I did not know then that they were police officers.
Cross-examined. I went to the China Hall with Moyse; I could not say what time we got there—I had met Moyse by the Salvation Army, and we went a little way down the road past the China Hall, and then came back and went in there—it was about 8 o'clock when I met him, and I was with him from then till I went to fetch the doctor—he had been drinking, but he did not show it—we left the China Hall as near as I can think about 10 minutes past 12 by the landlord's clock; I don't know whether that was kept fast—the six of us left together; we three girls
and Moyse stood about four shops from the corner of Neptune Street waiting for the two men, and while standing there the two Italians passed—I had never seen them before that I know—it was in passing that the taller Italian said something about three to one, and Moyse said "Shut it;" then the taller Italian turned back and gave Moyse the blow, and Moyse struck him into the road—I could not say whether it was a violent blow, it made him stagger into the road, and he then crossed the road—as Moyse struck him and he went into the road, the short one hit Bottomley—the short one was not away before the stick was used; he was not across the road—Moyse was only just hitting him as he fell in the road, when the other one struck Bottomley—there was a struggle, and his hat was knocked off, and then he ran away—it was hardly more than a minute—after that we walked on—Bottomley said "Never mind let's have another song"—I think we walked two-and-two; Connor and Anderson walked first, then Bottomley and Cumley, and then me and Moyse—we were all walking on the pavement, the same side as the Wesleyan Chapel—I had not hold of Moyse's arm—we went on without pausing, past the chapel nearly to the corner of Albion Street—during that time the tall Italian was never within 10 yards of us—from the Wesleyan Chapel he was not in my sight at all; I lost sight of him at the chapel, and saw no more of him—I thought he was going back to look for his hat—I did not like him lagging about the road—I can say positively that the taller Italian was the man I lost sight of at the Wealeyan Chapel, and that I saw afterwards come out from that place—the loss of the brooch was before I got to the corner of Albany Street—Matilda Cumley went back to look for the brooch—the figure that came out from the chapel was the same figure which came out from the road and encountered Moyse four doors from Neptune Street—I ran towards them, and I think Connor and Anderson followed me—by the time I got up to where Boyce was the Italian was running away—I stood with Bottomley, and Boyce only went a few steps and returned, and the Italian ran away towards Neptune Street—the crowd was not collecting when I left Bottomley outside the chemist's shop—after I went for the doctor I saw nothing of Cumley running up the road, nor did I see her return from the sister's house—I heard no whistle—as I turned the Royal Oak corner a short Italian without a hat came round the corner—I passed on, and saw no more of them—I got back to the chemist's before the stretcher was fetched—I did not see the prisoner looking over someone's shoulder when the police said "We shall take you"—I did not see Cumley till I saw her at the station—I was there when she was asked if that was the man, and she said "Yes"—I can only identify the short Italian by his walk, he was bandy-legged—I should not like to swear to him—I saw the prisoner in Lucas Street marching between two constables, and I said to Miss Anderson "That is the man"—I was close to him, and could see he was a foreigner—I did not see the actual biting the thumb, but William Bottomley said the short man had done it.
By the COURT. I was on the pavement with Jim Moyse and two girls talking—this was the middle of the night—the two Italians passed and the prisoner said "Three to one is too many"—Moyse said "Shut it," and he turned round and hit Moyse in the eye.,
Hall public-house—I left at two minutes past 12 with Camley, Wells, Moyse, Bottomley, and Connor—Connor did not look the worse for drink—as we went on, Connor and Bottomley left us, and I went on with the others—two men went by and said something which I could not understand, and Moyse calmed them, and they returned, and the taller one struck Moyse, who struck again, but I did not see where—we all went on, and Bottomley and Connor came round the corner; they were all struggling together—I saw the short Italian, but did not see what he did—I saw Bottomley struggling with him, but I did not see him on the ground—after the struggle the two Italians ran away—one had lost his hat, but he went on, and Cumley said when we got to Albion Street that she had lost her brooch—she turned back with her young man, and I went on by her side, but only a few steps—we were not far from the chapel when I saw Bottomley struggling with him, but I did not see him on the ground—after the struggle the two Italins ran away—one had lost his hat, but he went on, and Cumley said when we got to Albin Street that she and lost her brooch—she turned back her young man, and I went on by her side, but obnly a few steps—we were not far from the chapel when I saw a man coming to meet us—I did not see him come out of the chapel; he sprang on Bottomley and hugged him round the neck, and then I saw a flash of steel going towards the deceased's left side—I screamed, and the man ran away towards the Salvation Army, and Bottomley said "Tilly, I am stabbed"—I did not see Moyse and Wells there—Bottomley ran across the road and staggered and fell—I did not see any one help him across—I did not see Matilda Cumley there at that time—I was sober—Wells said "Come and get a doctor"—Bottomley was by a chemist's shop—I did not know the face of the taller or shorter man—I cannot say whether the prisoner is the taller man or not.
Cross-examined. I speak with certainty as to the time we left, because I looked at the clock—we were walking slowly when the two men passed, to enable Bottomley and Connor to pick us up—one of the strangers spoke first—the taller one struck Moyse—I did not see him reel into the road when Moyse struck him, it was over in a minute—I saw a stick in the short one's hand; he ran away—I did not see the man come out of the dark place when I saw the glitter—I called out "Oh, my God, he is stabbed," and at the same moment the man I saw appear by the chapel walked towards the Salvation Barracks and towards Neptune Street—I was frightened; I did not notice the way they crossed to the chemist's—I went with Mary Ann Wells for a doctor—I saw nothing of Cumley running and screaming; I heard no whistle or anything—after getting Dr. Nicholls I went to the police-station to get a man to come down, and in Paradise Street, at the corner of Lucas Street, I first saw a man in custody—I said to the Magistrate "I cannot recognise the man with the instrument; it was between the lights; I cannot swear to his clothes or anything about him."
WILLIAM CONNOR . I live at 34, Alpine Road, Deptford, and am porter to a chemist and druggist—on 17th October I was with Susan Anderson at the China Hall public-house—we left about two minutes past 12 with Bottomley, Cumley, Wells, and Moyse; I was not the worse for drink then—Bottomley left us by the Salvation Barracks and went into the urinal with me, and when we came out some one called out "Bill," and when we got up to the others Bottomley was hugged round the neck by some one I did not know, who ran off, and his hat fell and mine also—I picked up both hats—I saw a second man in the road, but cannot say whether, he was an Englishman or a foreigner, as he had his hat down, nor can I say which of them dropped, his hat—after that we all six went on towards the Royal Oak; Bottomley and I were still behind—heard
nothing about Cumley's brooch being lost, but Bottomley went to the front with the others, and I heard no more of him till I heard from Susan Anderson that he was stabbed—he was then on the ground outside the chemist's—I have no possible idea how it was done.
Cross-examined. Miss Anderson has known me eight weeks—she gave her name to the police—the two detectives who caught the prisoner called on me after the inquest, and I told them what I had to say; it was not taken down—I was told to go to Paradise Street Station and give my evidence there, which I did—it was taken down and I signed it; that was three or four hours after the detectives came to me and three weeks after the occurrence—I did not see the blow struck by Moyse or see the tall Italian strike him—Bottomley hurried more than me and was being hugged by a man when I next saw him—I helped to pull him off, but I do not know whether he was an Italian or not—I gave the hat which did not belong to me, to an ordinary man who stood by; I do not know who he was—we then went on nearly to Albion Street, and I saw a man lurking about the road near the chapel—no one called my attention to him; that was after the fight.
ANTHONY EDWARD NICHOLLS . I am a labourer of Rotherhithe—on 18th October, about 12.20 a.m., I was in Union Road, Rotherhithe—I heard a whistle and saw Matilda Cumley running along Union Road towards Lower Deptford Road—I saw the prisoner on the same side of the way walking in the same direction—Cumley came up to me and said "Master, master, my old man is stabbed"—the prisoner was then in the middle of the road, and when she said that he showed his teeth and walked very quickly back towards the Royal Oak—I followed in that direction with Cumley, and round the corner of the Royal Oak to the right I saw about twenty people by a chemist's shop, and the prisoner among them, very close to a wounded man—two officers took him in charge—I knew him by sight; I have seen him very often selling his ice cream with a barrow in the streets, and am quite sure of him—I did not know his name or that he had a brother.
Cross-examined. I only heard one whistle, that was before Miss Cumley met me—I was about ten minutes' walk from the station—I kept straight down Union Road, and passed Lucas Street and heard the the whistle—I met Cumley very near Paradise Street—I had gone all that way before I met her—I was walking and she was running and screaming—the prisoner was on the other side of the way, and a little behind her, both going in the same direction towards me—he said nothing—I remained on the same side as Cumley, and he came into the middle of the road—I did not speak to him although I knew him—he turned round and went back towards the Royal Oak, and me and Cumley followed behind him—the whistle blew before she met me—when I heard it I was looking at the clock of Christ Church, Rotherhithe, that is just before you get to Lucas Street; there is a wood yard on one side, and the church on the other—I swear it was after that that I met Miss Cumley—it was within a minute or two—it was two or three minutes off the church—I was walking slowly.
Re-examined. I know the house where the prisoner lives in Paradise Street; I pointed it out to the inspector—it is on the right-hand side going from the police-station, near the corner.
the morning of October 8th I was on a tram in lower Road, Deptford, which was standing by the Royal Oak at 12.20 as near as I can recollect—I saw two men and a woman running round the Royal Oak from Union Road to Lower Road, Deptford—they turned the corner to the right, towards Deptford, towards the Salvation Barracks—I then heard a scream—the driver and conductor got out—the tram drove on towards Deptford—the tram arrived at a chemist's shop; I saw a man stagger and fall there—the tram went on some distance, and then I got off and saw the deceased lying on the pavement; his clothes were saturated with blood, and two men were holding him up; I don't know who they were—there were no other persons there besides the two who were holding him up—I inquired what was the matter, and heard that he had been stabbed—I got out my whistle, blew it, and the police arrived a few minutes afterwards, and a great many people.
Cross-examined. The tram car came to a stop outside the Royal Oak, and while it was stopping I saw the two men run round the corner—they were coming from the same direction as the tram had come—the tram started at a good pace round the corner, but I cannot say that it was at full speed—I cannot say whether that was the last tram—I never saw the two men and the woman, from the moment they turned the corner—I did not notice whether she was a foreign woman or whether the other man was without a hat—I cannot say, in the confusion, how far the tram had got before I got off, but I think it must have got as far as the chapel—I did not tell them to let me down, I got down while it was going at full speed, and ran back—I never saw the wounded man near the chapel, he was at the chemist's shop door—I did not see Miss Cumley run screaming up the road.
Re-examined. It was about 12.20 when I blew my whistle; I cannot swear to two or three minutes.
GEORGE CHAPMAN (Policeman M). In the early morning of 18th October I was in Culling Road with Hicks, another constable, both in plain clothes—at about 12.20 I saw two men and a woman going towards Union Road—I believe the prisoner to be one of them, and the other was much shorter, an Italian—he was without a hat, and the woman had no bonnet—I could tell by her appearance that she was an Italian—as she passed us she brought her hands together and said "Oh my God!" and seemed excited, and the shorter Italian was on the trot—I did not see which way they went, but directly they passed us a whistle blew, and we ran in that direction—that was half a minute from the time the prisoner passed us—we did not go into the Union Road first, we went into the Deptford Road, and to the left to the chemist's shop, and on coming up to 16, Deptford Lower Road I saw a man lying on the pavement—I don't suppose there were more than eight or ten people there—I looked at the man lying on the ground, and Hicks touched me on the shoulder and said something, I cannot say whether he was near enough for the prisoner to hear—I looked up and saw the prisoner in the crowd looking at the man who was on the ground—I arrested him, and told him I should take him to the station on suspicion of being concerned in stabbing a man—I took him away from the people; he said "It is a mistake, I have been at Spa Road"—this is a memorandum of the conversation: "I have been at Spa Road, I was at home having my supper, when some one came and said some of our people were in a row. I left supper, put on my hat, and
came out to see what was the matter, and on looking at the man you took me"—during that conversation I was taking him to the station along Union Road and down Lucas Street, where we met Wells and Anderson; Wells said "That is the man"—we took him to the station, where he was charged—while he was there in our charge I heard Cumley say "That is the man"—there were no other Italians there—I knew the prisoner before as an ice cream vendor, but not by name—I did not know his brother—I afterwards saw traced of blood, across the road from the chapel towards the chemist's shop, and found this portion of a hat in Deptford Lower Road, nearly opposite Culling Street; it appeared as if it had been kicked about; the rim was all right, but the crown was out.
Cross-examined. I know the other Italians about Paradise Street—I do not know how many there are—I know none of them by name—we were half way down the straight part, when we met the two men and the Italian running—the woman did not say "Mio Deo," she said "My God," those were the words—I do not know Italian, and am not familiar with the expletives they use; she seemed excited—I put down the words as she used them—I did not hear the words "Oh mio Deo" mentioned—they were not walking on the same side as me; the shorter Italian was on the same side as I was, and the other two on the opposite side in the Culling Road, which is 40 feet wide; they met us, they did not pass—the shorter one was on the trot; their faces were towards Paradise Street; they had not passed half a minute when I heard the whistle—I did not see how far they had then got—Hicks and I then ran—I did not see the prisoner when we got to the chemist's shop—I did not look for him; I looked at the man who was lying on the ground, but when Hicks touched me on the shoulder I saw the prisoner—it was from what Hicks said that I took the prisoner; I believe him to be the man who had been with the Italian woman—I have said "I took him for the sole cause, he had been with the Italian man and woman in the Culling Road"—it was only from the remark the woman passed to him in the Culling Road.
WILLIAM HICKS (Policeman M). Early on the morning of 18th October I was with Chapman in Union Road, both in plain clothes, and saw two men and a woman at 20 minutes past 12; the prisoner is one of them—I knew him before, and am sure about him—the other was a shorter man without a hat, and I knew him before—the woman was an Italian—just as she passed us she held up both her hands, and said "Oh, my God"—they went towards Union Road and Paradise Street—I could not see which way they turned—we went in that direction—I heard a whistle blow—I went up to a chemist's shop, and I saw from nine to a dozen people there and a man on the ground—I saw the prisoner come round the corner from the Royal Oak and come to the crowd—I spoke to Chapman, and he came out from the crowd and took the prisoner in custody—I heard the statement that he made to Chapman on the way to the station about his being at home and having his supper—on the way to the station I saw Mary Ann Wells—when she saw the prisoner she said "That is the man"—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found on him an ordinary pocket knife and a watch and chain—I have known him about three years, and knew that he lived at 82, Paradise Street; other Italians live there—he has three brothers—I saw one of them about a week previous—he it a dark man, like the
prisoner, just the same height, and a little stouter—he is in the same trade—I have never seen him since this transaction—I have seen one of the other two brothers to-day outside the Court, and the other I have not seen for a long time; I had not seen him for a long time before October 17th, but I saw the stout one about a week previous, and I have never seen him since.
Cross-examined. I cannot say where two of the brothers lived, but I knew them at Paradise Street; one of them is called Ice-cream Jack; he is the one of whom I speak as about the same height, dark, and a little stouter—I do not know that his name is Luigi—I believe that the Italian woman I saw is a daughter of Mr. Romano, the proprietor of 82, Paradise Street, where the ice-cream barrows are let out—about 18 months ago Ice-cream Jack married Miss Romano; that is the woman I met that night when I was with Chapman—I had seen her husband in that neighbourhood before this occurrence—I have known him longer than I have the prisoner—he was about the neighbourhood all right until this occurrence, and I have not seen him since—when I had the prisoner in custody I examined his clothes very closely to see if I could find any traces of blood, and I did not find a mark—I also looked at his face, but I did not look particularly for traces of a blow—no one ever said the prisoner was accused of the murder until Mary Ann Wells screamed out "That is the man," on seeing him between me and my brother officer—no one gave him into our custody when he was standing to look at the wounded man—it was simply from my having seen him with Miss Romano and a man in the Culling Road that I took him in custody and from the expression she used—she said "Oh, my God," quite plainly; she was speaking to the man—I had not seen the prisoner with Miss Wade, who is engaged at a refreshment house—Spa Road is in Bermondsey—I do not know Miss Wade, the waitress at a refreshment house in Abbey Road—I know nothing about a courtship between the prisoner and her—these tram can would take any one who wanted to go to the Bricklayers' Arms.
Re-examined. I heard the prisoner make a statement at the station; he spoke English pretty clearly.
THOMAS PEARCE (Police Inspector). I was at Botherhithe Station when the prisoner was brought in, and took the charge—he gave his address 82, Paradise Street—when the charge was read he said in English "It is a mistake"—I wrote that down and he put his mark to it—I saw the witnesses when they came into the station; Moyse, Wells, and Cumley were all very excited—the prisoner was accidentally seen by them.
Cross-examined. They did not come into the station, I sent an officer away with the ambulance—everybody thought the man was dead, but they did not know it—the witnesses all came down with the stretcher from the chemist's shop.
JOSEPH PAGE (Policeman M). On October 18th, about 5.30 a.m., I was in Neptune Street, and found this stiletto-dagger (produced) at the corner of Erville Place—there were stains of blood on it, which appeared to be recent—there was no sheath on it—I took it to the station, and it was shown to the surgeon.
Cross-examined. There was plenty of blood on it, and I carried it carefully, and did not get any of the blood off—a person Wanting to go to Paradise Street might go up Neptune Road, and so avoid the public-house—I
have traced it only from the corner of Neptune Road—it would not take a person long to run round there to avoid the Royal Oak.
VICTOR ALEXANDER JAMES . I am surgeon to the M Division of Police at Bermondsey—on 18th October, about 12.30 a.m., I went to Rotherhithe Station, and found Bottomley in the police ambulance, dead—there was a great deal of blood on his trousers—I made a post-mortem examination, and found a stab; it had gone through the clothes on the left side of the body, a little below the upper edge of the left hip bone, which caused death—it might have been inflicted with this dagger; it wag nearly seven inches deep—I found a corresponding mark in the clothes where the dagger had pierced—drawing the dagger out through the clothes would remove part of the blood.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say, only I am innocent."
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
ELIZABETH WADE . I am single, and live at 36, Westlake Road, with my aunt—in October last I was employed as a waitress at the Lilliputian coffee-house in Abbey Road—I have known the prisoner two years; he has been keeping company with me—on Monday night, 17th October, I left the coffee-house about a quarter past 10; that was not my usual time for leaving; I had to stop because my mistress had to go to the other shop to collect her money—I had seen the prisoner at the Lilliputian in the morning; he did not know at what time I was to leave in the evening—he came in about 8 o'clock to have some tea and left about 9 o'clock—I expected to see him again; I thought he would come up to me as he always did—when I left at a quarter past 10 I went up against St. James's Church, and just opposite, by the Crown and Anchor public-house, I met the prisoner—we went into the Crown and Anchor and he had a drink—we came out about 11 o'clock—there was a one-horse tram waiting; he said "Don't go into that one-horse tram; come to the Colleen Bawn and get the two-horse tram"—we walked there; it was about a quarter or 10 minutes to 12 when we got there—we did not go into any place before we got there—we did not go into the Colleen Bawn—policeman was standing at the corner—I don't know him; I can't tell if he is here—the prisoner went over and asked the policeman if that was the last two-horse tram coming up—he said "Stop a moment, here comes one"—it came up—he said "Herer you are, Lizzie; get in, make haste, and come home"—he put me in, and said "Good-night," and left—I got of the tram at the Bricklayers' Arms—I was living at East Lane, Walworth, at that time with my aunt; the Bricklayers' Arms was the nearest point—it took me about 20 minutes to walk from there to my aunt's—I got there about half-past 12.
Cross-examined. I have been waitress at the Lilliputian six weeks up to this time—before that I was living with aunt, not in service—the prisoner had not been to see me at the Lilliputian before the day this occurred; he used to come and see me at my aunt's—he first came to the Lilliputian at 7 o'clock in the morning—I got there about a quarter to 7, and he came in at 7 o'clock to have a cup of coffee—I did not know that he was coming again in the evening—I met him then accidentally by St. James's Church—he told me he had been to Peckham—I knew where he lived—I went with him to the Colleen Bawn; that is about a quarter of a mile from St. James's Church; it was in my
direction home to my aunt's—he could get home that way—I did not go into the Colleen Bawn—I had not been into any public-house in the meantime except the one opposite the church, the Crown and Anchor—we had a glass of mild and bitter there—we went in there about half-past 10 and came out at 11 o'clock—I had never been there before—the prisoner spoke to me in English; he speaks pretty fair English—I knew he was a foreigner—he understands me; he understands English very well—I got into the tram at the Colleen Bawn at a quarter to 12, and got home about half-past 12—I had never been out with him quite so late before on week days—on Sundays I have been out till about 10 or a little after—I heard next morning that the prisoner was in custody charged with this murder—I knew that he was taken before the Magistrate that day—I did not go there—I never went before the Magistrate or the Coroner—I first saw the prisoner's solicitor on a Sunday, a week after—I told him what I knew about the matter—I have often been to the prisoner's house—he had asked me to marry him; I had not made up my mind—we were not actually engaged.
Re-examined. I was not summoned to attend before the Magistrate—I am quite sure I am telling what occurred the night before the prisoner was in custody.
CHARLES BASKETT (Policeman M 96). On Monday, 17th October, I was on duty near the Colleen Bawn, Southwark Park Road—I remember seeing a man near the Colleen Bawn, but not a woman—the man was on the same side of the road as myself—he spoke to me near the corner—he asked if the last tram had gone to the Bricklayers' Arms—I told him it had—I then passed on, and he passed on—I did not see a two-horse tram; there was no tram there at the time; I did not see one afterwards—as near as I can guess it was about 10 minutes to 12—I saw no tram—I turned out of Southwark Park Road altogether at that time—there was a constable stationed at the corner by the Colleen Bawn; he is a fixture there—I have not spoken to him—I believe I have been asked twice by the solicitor's clerk what I knew of this matter—I did not say that just as the man was speaking to me the two-horse tram approached and that I said "Here it comes."
Cross-examined. I cannot fix the time accurately; I should say it was about 10 minutes to 12; it might have been 20 minutes to 12—I was not examined before the Magistrate or the Coroner—I was first seen by the prisoner's solicitor's clerk about a week ago—as a rule there is no tram that goes to the Bricklayers' Arms after about 10 minutes or a quarter to 12—I am often asked about the times of the trams—I am quite sure that the man that spoke to me was an Englishman; he spoke good English.
Re-examined. I did not hear of the death in this case next morning—I did not hear of it till a gentleman came to the station to seek for me—the inspector asked who was on duty at this particular neighbourhood, and the constables on duty there were brought in—the one at the fixed point was not among them; he belongs to another station—I did not at that time recollect what had occurred on the 17th.
WALTER GHULER . I am 18 years of age—in October I was living at 82, Paradise Street, Rotherhithe, at the house of Mr. Romano—I had been living there since last March—I have been in the habit of going out with a barrow with ice creams in hot weather, and with baked potatoes
in cold weather—the prisoner has been living there during the time I was there—he slept in the same room as me—Mrs. Louis Petre is Mr. Romano's daughter—she was married before I went there—they slept in another room, with a baby six months old—Louis Petre resembles the prisoner—on Monday afternoon, 17th October, I went out about half-past 4, with Raphael Imborato—I had a baked-potato barrow—I went to the White Swan, at the corner of Erville Street, Woolwich—I took up a fixed position there to sell my potatoes—I left there shortly before 12 to return to Paradise Street—I wheeled my barrow in the road, and Imborato walked on the pavement about 10 or 12 yards behind me—we went up Deptford Lower Road, and passed the Salvation Army Barracks—we met a tram coming along—I saw Louis Petre outside the tram; I whistled, but he did not take any notice of it—Imborato was still about 10 or 11 yards behind me—Louis got off the tram, walked up to the pavement, and I saw him speak to Imborato—I did not stop; I went straight on to Paradise Street—I met the prisoner Joseph coming round Paradise Street, a few yards from the door of 1882, and not far behind him was Mrs. Louis Petre—the prisoner asked me if I had seen his brother Louis—I told him I thought he was up the road with Imborato—he went in that direction—shortly after Mrs. Louis came by, and asked me if I had seen Joseph—I said he had gone towards the Union Road, and she went after him—I then took my barrow into Romano's yard in the usual way; I had my supper before going to bed—Lanzi was in the house—after I had my supper I noticed Imborato come in with no hat on, rather excited, and I asked Lanzi what was the matter—Mrs. Louis Petre came in after, about the same time—I saw nothing of Louis Petre at that time, nor of Joseph—I never saw Joseph in possession of a weapon like the one produced—I never saw a thing like that in the house.
Cross-examined. Lanzi slept in the same room as me—I did not know there was such a thing as this dagger in the house—I am in Mr. Romano's service—I saw Louis that morning before I went out with my barrow—he did not come home that night to my recollection, because I was in bed after I had my supper—I went to bed about half-past 12—I had my supper in what they call the parlour—I saw some plates on the table when I went in—they had been used—I have not seen Louis since that morning—he did-not come in that night—I did not see him next day—I asked his wife where he was—she said she did not know—when I went to bed I did not know what had occurred; I did not know till next morning—I have never heard what has become of him—he had been living in the house with his wife and child—I was not examined before the Magistrate or Coroner—I first made a communication to the solicitor's clerk the second time Joseph was at the Greenwich Police-court—the first time I saw Louis on this Monday night was when he got off the tram car just by the Salvation Army Barracks, and that was the last I saw of him after speaking to Imborato on the pavement—the last time I saw the prisoner was outside Young's, the hay salesman's, in Paradise Street, a very few yards from 82—that was about 20 minutes past 12—I can't say nearer than that.
Re-examined. The first time I told my story to any legal gentleman was about a fortnight after the 17th October, I believe, at the second hearing of Joseph up at the Court (24th October).
there four years—I go out with a barrow in the summer to sell ice creams, and potatoes in the winter—I am a shoemaker by trade—on Monday, 17th October, about half-past 4, I went out with my barrow to sell potatoes—no one went with me—I went to the Red Lion, Rotherhithe—I left there to come home about half-past 11—I got to 82, Paradise Street, at three minutes past 12—I had to go into a tobacconist's shop in Union Road to buy a pennyworth of tobacco, and the church clock was striking 12 when I was just getting to the corner of Paradise Street to put up my barrow—the yard gates were closed—Louis Petre opened them for me—Ghuler and Imborato had not returned—I spoke two or three words to Louis Petre—he was about half drunk—when he had let me in he went away at once—I just noticed that he turned round to the right—I went into the house about four or five minutes after I had put my barrow in the yard—Mr. and Mrs. Romano and Mrs. Louis Petre were there, a son of Mr. Romano, and Joseph, the prisoner—he sat down, and commenced eating—there were no cards; they were just putting his supper on his plate when I got in—he did not finish his supper—he asked me where his brother went to—I said he went out—his wife said he was drunk; that he had had a glass too much, and had gone out—she said that loud enough for Joseph to hear—I said I did not know that he was drunk—I said he had gone down the Lower Road, Deptford, to meet the other baked-potato cans; that was Ghuler and Imborato's—Mrs. Louis said I ought not to have let him go out—Joseph then put on his hat and jacket, and left the house—Mrs. Louis followed him—she did not put on anything—Ghuler came in soon after; I let him in with his barrow—I saw nothing more that night of Louis or Joseph—Imborato came in without his hat—Mrs. Louis was not in then; I did not see her again that night—I went to bed—I did not know that the prisoner was in custody till the next morning—I never saw any one with this dagger—I slept in the same room with Ghuler at first, but afterwards we separated—I always slept in the same room with Joseph—I have never seen him with such an instrument as that.
Cross-examined. I saw Louis with a dagger; I was going down into the kitchen on one occasion, I thought it was something else, and I got it in my hand, and it was a stiletto, but I don't know what he was doing with it; I did not ask him; it was in a case—that was in the summer, August I think—I did not knew where it was kept—it was about three minutes to 12 on the Monday night when I got back to Paradise Street; Louis came to open the door—by the way he spoke to me I thought he had had a drink; he was not very drunk, not to fall down—I said to him "Where are you going?"—he said "I am going to find the other potato men"—he had his hat on, he was quite able to walk and talk, but you could notice that he had been having some drink—I did not notice him walk away—the prisoner was in the house when when I went in—he left his supper without finishing it to go and look after his brother—Louis used to take too much sometimes.
RAPHAEL IMBORATO (Interpreted). I am living at 82, Paradise Street; I go out with a barrow and ice cream in hot weather and potatoes in cold weathes—on Monday, 17th October, I went out with Walter Ghuler with baked potato cans about four or half-past four—I took my station in a street, I don't know the name of it, near a public-house, I don't know
the name—I was with Ghuler the whole time—I left that place about seven or eight minutes to 12, as usual, I can't say exactly—Ghuler left with me; he drove the barrow in the road, I walked on the pavement, three or four metres behind him—just by the Salvation Army Barracks I saw a tram car a little before the turning to Neptune Street—Luigi Petre got off the car and came and spoke to me—at that time Ghuler was about 30 or 35 paces in front, I can't say exactly, it was rather a dark night—after speaking to Luigi I took hold of his arm, and we took the direct way home—I don't know the name of the road we took—we had passed the Salvation Army Barracks, and were walking in the direct line from the barracks—I saw three girls and one man standing near; while we were passing Luigi made use of a word which I could not understand, then there was a reply came, "Go away," or something to that effect; then Luigi was in conversation with those people, of course I could not understand what they were talking about—then Luigi wanted to rush at them, and I took hold of him by the arm—he was stronger than I, and he broke loose from me and went up to the young man that was there—then there were two or three loud words between them while they were talking, and then I noticed that Luigi struck the young fellow a blow in the face, and they fell on the ground—when the blow was struck the girls started screaming, and while they were screaming I rushed in to them—seven or eight young fellows came up, and one of them set on me and one of the others on Luigi—I had a small stick in my hand, I was protecting myself in this position; I defended myself as much as I possibly could, and then I looked round, and I could not see any more of Luigi, and then I ran away and left my hat in the road—it was dark in that part of the road—I only judged there were seven or eight young men by the crowd that came onto us—when I went away I thought that Luigi had already gone home—I went by the road where the tram way lines run, and then round into the street where I live—when I got just out of the tram road, about seven or eight paces from where the tram was, I met Joseph Petre and Philomela Romano, Mrs. Luigi—they said, "Where is Luigi?"—I said, "What, has not Luigi returned yet?"—they said "No"—I said "We have just had a tow outside, and be went away and left me in the fight"—they said "Let us go and see if we can find him," and we went back the way they had come—we went towards the church, and near the church we saw seven or eight people—I mean by the Wesleyan Chapel there were five or six on one side and two or three near them, or just coming along like, and Mrs. Luigi ran up and said "What is the matter?" and looked to see if Luigi Was there—somebody said, "Oh, he is stabbed: run after him, run after him!"—at this time Joseph was with us—when I saw such a lot of people there I said "Let us turn round to the right, and see if we can meet Luigi down this way"—we did so, and when we got to the end of the road (I don't know the name of it) I saw two men, I did not notice who they were, because I was running down the road without any hat on, and Joseph and Mrs. Luigi were on the other side—I and Mrs. Luigi took the road to go towards home, and as I was going along she stopped—I said "What is the matter?"—she said nothing—I went direct to Paradise Street—I left Joseph standing at the corner, Mrs. Luigi followed me and came home—we both got in at the same time almost—I had heard a woman screaming somewhere near the public house, I never heard any whistle—I saw nothing of Luigi from
the time I was defending myself and lost my hat till I went into Paradise Street—Joseph was in my company all the time—seven or eight minutes after we got home Luigi came in; I was in the kitchen having something to eat—I just saw him through the door of the yard—he was in the corner of the yard—I had not noticed any knocking; I don't know whether Mrs. Luigi went out into the yard; the only thing I noticed as I just caught a glimpse of him in the yard was that his face seemed greatly swollen, or something, I saw nothing of him afterwards.
Cross-examined. I am no relation to the prisoner—I have known him and his brother about four or five months—I have lived at 82, Paradise Street about three months—I saw Luigi get off the tram a little before 12 o'clock—he was drunk, not very drunk, just about half—he got off the car as it was coming along—I found he was the worse for liquor by the movements of him; judging by the way he was going along I was under the impression that he was drunk—the last time I saw him that night was when he came home—I did not see which way he went after the fight—I first missed him when I was just getting away from the people among the crowd, I turned round and could not see him—I did not see him the next day—I do not know whether he slept in the house that night—I was up about 7 o'clock—Mrs. Luigi was in bed—I saw her that morning, but not Luigi—I do not know what has become of him, I never saw him afterwards—I was not told what became of him; I asked, but none of them seemed to know where he was; they said he went away that night, and they had not seen him since; I was never told where he had gone to—I first heard that Joseph was in custody the following morning—two or three young fellows came to the door and said "There are two or three of your companions locked up"—I heard all about it that day—of course I knew that the prisoner was innocent—I did not go and tell the police anything about it—the solicitor came and spoke to us; that was the first time I told what I knew—I did not go before the Magistrate, I have got to study my business, I am only a servant—I did not hear Mrs. Luigi say in the Culling Road "Oh, my God," I cannot remember anything about that—she said something about his being drunk or having some drink.
GABRIEL ROMANO (Interpreted). I live at 82, Paradise Street—I understand English a little—Mrs. Luigi Petre is my daughter—she and her husband and infant lived at my house; the prisoner also lived there—I remember on Monday night. 17th October, Lanzi coming in with his barrow—Luigi went to the gate and let him in, and then Lanzi came into the kitchen and had some food—there was a conversation then as to where Luigi had gone; they answered he had gone out to meet the two potato barrows—about five minutes after Luigi had gone out Joseph came in to have something to eat—while it was warming I did not see anything done with any cards—he came in a little alter 12 o'clock, and then had his supper, and then he saw his brother Luigi was not in the house, and asked where he was—they said "He has gone out to meet one of the barrows with the potatoes," and then he went out after Luigi—Mrs. Luigi and he both went out together—after that Mrs. Luigi and Imborato came back, but we saw nothing more of Luigi that night—I should think Luigi came to the premises about 30 or 40 minutes past 12, and Mrs. Luigi must have been at the door waiting to see if he came, and then he came in—as he came into the yard I said "Come into the
kitchen," but he made no reply—I do not know what he was doing in the yard, but I saw his face was rather swollen and that it had blood upon it—I made no observation about his clothes—he did not come into the house after being in the yard, and I have not seen him since.
Cross-examined. When I came into the house I knew that Luigi had been drinking; he could walk straight, but there is no doubt he was a bit drunk—he did not sleep in the house that night; the last I saw of him was in the yard—I went to bed on this night something about 1 o'clock; that was about 40 minutes after I saw Luigi in the yard—when I saw the blood on his face I said to him "What have you been doing?" and he said "I have been having a fight with some Englishmen," but he did not give me any particulars as to where it had occurred, there was no time—I saw the blood just about the upper lip—the next day I did not know where Luigi was, and I have never heard—I was not examined before the Coroner or the Magistrate.
Re-examined. That gentleman sitting there is connected with the Italian Consulate, and I went to him and left the matter in his hands.
RAPHAEL ROMANO . I am the brother of Mrs. Luigi Petre—I remember on Monday night, 17th October, when Mrs. Petre came back with Imborato—after she had returned I saw Luigi in the gateway, and noticed that his face was greatly swollen and had blood marks on it, but I did not notice anything about his clothes—he was there in the yard about two or three minutes; he did not come into the house again, and I have not seen him from that time.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether he slept in the house that night—I saw nothing of him next day, and do not know where he has gone.
PHILOMELA PETRE . I am the daughter of Gabriel Romano and the wife of Luigi Petre, the brother of the prisoner—I have been living with my husband and child at my father's house, 82, Paradise Street, and I am living there still—I remember the 17th October—on the morning of that day Joseph went to see his brother at Peckham and returned to the house 82, Paradise Street, about half-past 6, and then he went out again and did not return until late in the evening—I knew he was keeping company with Miss Wade—between 7 and half-past my husband went out with another of his brothers, Antonie Petre, and with my brother Eaphael, and they did not come back till just before 12; I then noticed that my husband had had a little drink—while he was at home a knock came at the side door, and my husband went and let Lanzi in, and when Lanzi came in I thought my Husband was in the yard for a moment—Joseph and Lanzi came in both at the same time—when Joseph came in he asked if his supper was ready; I said "Yes," and took the frying-pan and warmed his supper, and while it was warming we had a game of cards—when the supper was ready for him I gave it to him, and he was having it when Lanzi came in—it takes a few minutes to put the barrows away when they come home—when Lanzi came in I asked him where Luigi was, and he said he had gone out to meet the other baked potato van; I said "What did you want to let him go out for when he has had a little drink?" I stayed a few minutes, and, being in a worry about him, I went, out to see if I could see him, and Joseph then took the rest of his supper in his hand and came out along with me—a few yards from the door I met Walter Ghuler and
asked him if he had seen Luigi and Imborato, and he said "Yes, they are coming along"—Joseph was a few steps before me—we both went on, and when we got to the corner opposite the linen draper's I met Imborato and asked him if he had seen Luigi; he said "What, has he not come home?" I said "No, he has come out to meet you;" he said "We had a few words with somebody and I did not see Luigi any more"—we would not believe him, and all three of us' went on—at that time Imborato had no hat on—we all three then went towards the Royal Oak, and when we got there we heard somebody screaming, and we followed the screams—at the Royal Oak we turned towards the Deptford Lower Road—I know the Wesleyan Chapel, we turned down that road—some people near the chapel said "He is stabbed, he is stabbed," and me and Joseph went into the road, and I said "Who is stabbed?" but no answer was returned—I saw no injured person there; I looked to see if my husband was there, but did not see him, and I saw no one running down the road—I and Imborato and Joseph then went up the Culling Road, so as to get into the Union Road again—at the top of the Culling Road a lady asked me what was the matter—I don't remember seeing anybody pass me—I don't remember saying "Oh my God!" I did not use that expression—we talk in Italian to Imborato and we talk English to Joseph Petre—when we got to the top of the road a woman came out of the tobacconist's shop and said "What is the matter?" I said "I don't know," and then I went home—I was walking down Culling Road all the time—I parted with Joseph at the corner of Culling Road, Imborato was then a few steps before me—I saw a woman running up the road screaming, a little farther away than I was; she was going along crying—I did not notice any whistle—a few minutes after I got home I went to the door and' saw my husband coming along the street; he passed into the house and went straight into the, yard—I did not go into the yard with him, I stopped in the doorway of the yard—my husband's lip was then cut and very much swollen; I said nothing to him about it—he never came into the house again—I have never seen him since.
Cross-examined. I did not see any one lying on the ground when the people said "He is stabbed, he is stabbed"—the crowd were all standing around—I was not talking to the prisoner about it when we got into the Culling Road, because he was on the other side of the pavement—I did not suspect at all at that time who had stabbed the man—my husband did not sleep in the house that night, and I have not seen him since.
NOT GUILTY .
70. JOHN HUCKLESBY (24) was indicted for arson. Upon the evidence of Mr. Philip Francis Gilbert, Surgeon of Holloway Prison, the Jury found the prisoner to be of unsound mind and not fit to plead.—Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MESSRS. MEAD and TORR Prosecuted; MESSRS. GRAIN and ERNEST BEARD Defended. NOT GUILTY .
She was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the murder of the said child, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
DASTER also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in January, 1876.— One Day's Imprisonment each.
MESSRS. BESLEY and BODKIN Prosecuted.
The evidence in this case was precisely similar to the former.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment for embezzling, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ROGERS Prosecuted.
MARY GRAY . I am a widow, living at Bostal Cottage, Bostal Heath—on the night of 17th October I had four baskets, two large and two small, containing washing, standing in the kitchen of the house—I saw it there as late as half-past 8, just before going to bed—on the morning of the 18th, at half-past 8, when I went to collect my clothes for washing, I found the top basket of the large ones was gone—there were eight tablecloths and other articles in that basket, of the value of 5l.—the prisoner is the son of the people I live with—he was not in the house when I rose that morning—he was not there overnight.
ROBERT WHALE . I mind a coffee-stall, and live at 278, High Street, Plumstead—on the morning of 18th October, a little after 6 o'clock, I saw the prisoner carrying a basket of clothes tied up and turned bottom upwards on his head—it was a washing basket—I knew him before—my coffee-stall is about a mile from where Mrs. Gray lives—the prisoner was coming from the direction of Bostal Heath.
EDWARD LAKE . I am a labourer, and live at Belmore, Belvedere, Kent—on 18th October, at half-past 6, I saw the prisoner against the Plume of Feathers in the Plumstead Road—he had the basket of clothes on his head—he came from Bostal Heath towards Woolwich—I have known him before, and am certain he is the man—I did not speak to him—this would be half a mile from the Heath and about 400 yards from the coffee stall; he was going towards the coffee stall.
REUBEN PENSON (Detective R). On 19th October I took the prisoner into custody at 10 minutes past 10 p.m. in Beresford Street, Woolwich—I told him I should take him into custody for stealing a basket of linen from Bostal Cottage on the 18th inst.—he said "I don't know anything about it; I was in bed at the time"—the goods were not found in his possession, and have not been traced.
The prisoner in his defence said that he was in bed that morning till a quarter to 7 o'clock, and that when he shard he was wanted he went up to the detectives.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in April, 1882**.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
VEENEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
ARTHUR BEAZLEY . I am steward to Colonel North, of Eltham—on 14th October I had 55 geese and a great number of ducks on his property in a yard adjoining the farm—I saw them there the day before this robbery—they could not get out of the yard without being let out; they were under lock and key—the next day I missed six geese and three ducks—I have seen the geese produced by the police; they are my property—I know the prisoners by sight in the neighbourhood.
FRANCIS NEWPORT (Police Sergeant R). I received information from the last witness about the loss of some geese and ducks—I traced footsteps from Colonel North's farm at Eltham to a ditch close to a plantation, three meadows away—there, covered over with brambles, I found three geese, which have been identified by Beazley—I and another constable secreted ourselves in the plantation, and about 1 o'clock I saw Sullivan coming in the direction of the ditch with Verney and another man behind him—they uncovered the geese and began to take them out—Sullivan just put his head in the plantation and saw me—I ran after him over three or four meadows, and caught him—Verney was caught by Constable 274; the other man got away—I told Sullivan I should charge him with being concerned in stealing these geese of Colonel North—he said "When did you find them?"—I made no reply.
GUILTY . Verney then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Lewes in May, 1886.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
ANNIE WILSON . I live at 46, Dorking Road, Deptford, and am a servant—on 12th November, about 9 p.m., I was at the top of Douglas Street—a woman asked me if I had lost anything—I missed my purse and 1s. 2d.—I had had my purse safe in my hand an hour before that, and I am certain it was in my pocket a few minutes before, because I felt it when I felt for my handkerchief.
ELIZABETH WILLEY . I am the wife of Harry Willey, an engineer, living at Deptford—I was in High Street, Deptford, between 8 and 9 o'clock on 12th November—I saw the prisoner put her hand in a lady's pocket outside the baker's shop; then she went across to the crockery stall, and put her hand in Miss Wilson's pocket and Miss Wilson's sister's pocket—I saw her take a purse out of Miss Wilson's pocket—when the prisoner had gone away I went and asked Miss Wilson if she had lost anything—I did not like to ask her before all the people—I afterwards saw the prisoner again, and gave her into custody.
MARY HAWKINS . I am female searcher at Deptford Police-station—I searched the prisoner, and found 4s. 6d. silver and 8d. bronze in a purse on her—I gave the purse to the inspector on duty; I have not seen it here—I asked the prisoner what money she had—she said she had not
the slightest idea what money she had, and that she visited a gentleman in High Street every week, and that he gave her money.
The prisoner asserted her innocence, and said she had come to Deptford to buy things for her sister; who had given her the money and purse. NOT GUILTY .
77. ANNIE HUGHES (13) and FANNY HUGHES, Stealing a muff, the goods of Samuel Ottley, and to other indictments for stealing a jacket, the goods of William Bishop, and a jacket, the goods of Charles Shepherd; an ulster of Benjamin Teletarn, and a jacket of Samuel Wilson.
ANNIE HUGHES PLEADED GUILTY— Judgment respited. No evidence was offered against
FANNY HUGHES.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. G. DILL Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
They received good characters, and were recommended to mercy by the prosecutor.— Two Days' Imprisonment each.
MR. DILL Prosecuted.
JAMES BURY . I live at 131, Suffolk Place, Snowsfields—on 2nd November I was with John Minns, and about a quarter to 1 a.m. we came out of the Canterbury, and I knocked up against the prisoner accidentally—a woman named Meakins was with him (See next case)—before I could beg his pardon he punched me at the back of my neck and knocked me into the gutter—I got up and made a strike at him, but instead of striking him I struck the woman accidentally, and when I turned round I saw Minns and the prisoner both or. the ground struggling in the gutter—I saw them get up—a constable came, and the four of us were taken to the station, and locked up for the night—I did not know at that time that Minns was stabbed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw no knife till I got to the police-court next morning.
WILLIAM BROMLEY . I am a leather dresser of 31, Neckinger Road—on 2nd November, about 12.30 or 12.45, I was in the Borough Road with Minns and Bury—I went a little way off to make water, and came back and saw a scuffle, and Minns and the prisoner on the ground—the police Came up.
JOHN MINNS . I am a leather dresser of 159, Western Street—on 3rd November, about a quarter to 1 a.m., I was with Bury and Bromley—I saw the prisoner strike Bury, and knock him in the gutter—he jumped up—I rushed up to see cause of it, and Bury struck the woman—the prisoner rushed at me, knocked me into the gutter, and we rolled over and over—I got up; a policeman came, and we were all taken to the station—when I got up I found I had got a cut on my thumb, and when the charge was taken at the station I found a pool of blood on the seat where I had been sitting while the surgeon dressed my thumb—my trousers were sodden right through, and I found I was wounded in my side—the surgeon was sent for again, and dressed that wound, and I was taken to the hospital, but previous to that Meakins owned to stabbing me—after I had been in bed a quarter of an hour at the hospital the sister or nurse came to look at me, and I discovered another stab in my thigh—I was in the hospital 14 days.
Cross-examined. You were the only man who came near me—you did not call out police and murder—I did not knock you down, and kick you—you rushed at me, and threw me down—I saw no knife.
TIMOTHY MAHONEY (Policeman M 221). On 4th November, at a quarter to 1, I was on duty in Westminster Bridge Road, and heard cries of murder and police—I ran and saw the prisoner opposite the Bridge House public-house, with his face covered with blood—I asked him what was the matter—he said "Stop those two men," pointing to Minns and Bury; "they have ascaulted me"—I brought them back, and the prisoner charged them with assaulting him, and knocking him down and kicking him on the head—Minns said "All right"—Bury denied kicking and striking him—I took them to the station, and the prisoner and Minns followed—Alexander charged him with assaulting him—a knife was afterwards found were the scuffle took place.
WILLIAM HUNT (Police-Sergeant M 11). On 3rd November I went to a spot in the Borough Road described to me as the scene of the scuffle, and found this knife on the footway close to the kerb—there was a quantity of mud near the spot, and indications of a struggle—the knife was open and lying in mud and water—I took it to the station and found the prisoner there.
GEORGE MARRIOTT (Police-Inspector M). I took the charge—Minns' head was smothered in blood—I sent for the doctor to see it—he pat down, and afterwards said that he felt blood running down his leg—he went off very faint, and after the doctor examined him I sent for Bury from the cells, and said "Were you aware that Minns had been stabbed?"—he said in the prisoner's hearing "No; but if he is, that man must have done, it," pointing to the prisoner—Minns, who, was lying on the floor; said "Yes; nobody else came near me"—I then charged, the prisoner with cutting and wounding him, and read the charge over to him—he said "What am I charged with? I do not understand you.
Should I have stopped there if I had done it?"—a knife was brought in, and the sergeant said in the prisoner's presence that he had found it at the spot—the prisoner said nothing.
THOMAS EVANS . I an surgeon to the M Division of Police—on 3rd November, at 1 a.m., I was called to the station and saw Minns there—I found a wound on his right thumb an inch and a half long and a quarter of an inch deep—the knife would cause it, but it was more likely done by a fall on a sharp stone—I then removed his trousers and shirt, which were both saturated with blood, and found a punctured wound on the left side of the abdomen, about two inches above the hip, an inch or an inch and a half deep—there were two cuts on his trousers and one on his shirt, corresponding with the wound—the knife exactly fitted the wound and the incisions in his dress—the wound was not dangerous of itself, but one was in a dangerous position—I did not see any stab; he did not complain of that—I put on some strapping and sent him to Guy's Hospital.
GEORGE ROWAN . I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—on 3rd November I examined Minns—the left leg of his trousers was saturated with blood, and had two cuts, the first corresponding with a wound on his abdomen, and the second with a wound on his left buttock; each was 2 1/2 inches deep and half an inch long—the first wound was dangerous from its position—he lost a great deal of blood.
Prisoner's Defence. Bury knocked against my left shoulder and struck me, and I fell, and the whole three kicked me in the most cruel manner. I halloaed "Police!" and "Murder!" The police came, and I gave Minns and Bury in charge.
THOMAS EVANS . The prisoner had a contused wound on his nose, no doubt from a blow, and a contused scalp wound—they appeared as if he had been struck on his nose, and had fallen and caused a wound on the scalp.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding under great provocation. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell in July, 1885.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DILL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HUNT (Police Sergeant M 11). On 3rd November, when I went back to Southwark Police-station with the knife, the prisoner was in the dock, and Alexander had been removed to the cells—on the prisoner being removed from the dock by the officer on duty she had to pass Minns, who was lying on the floor bleeding from his side—she forced herself from the officer, and kicked Minns three times on his side, saying "I will serve you worse than that"—I seized her—she had been drinking, but was not drunk.
Prisoner's Defence. I had been drinking and do not remember anything about it.
GUILTY of a common assault. — Four Day's Imprisonment.
MESSRS. GILL and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
FLORENCE ELIZA CULLEN . I am employed at the district post-office, Blackman Street, Borough—on 8th October, about 2 p.m., the prisoner came in, gave me 2s., and asked if I could give her a sovereign for ten Shillingsworth of silver and a half-sovereign, which I did—she then passed a shilling under the rail and said, "Look what you have given me"—I Said "Are you sure it was a shilling I gave you?"—she said "Yes"—I said "Where do you come from?"—she said "Great Davis Street"—I then gave her another sovereign—I checked my cash about a quarter of an hour afterwards, and it was 19s. short—I and 10l. Given to me about a quarter of an hour before—on 22nd October I was fetched to Stones End End Station, and picked the prisoner out from several women the moment I saw her.
Cross-examined. She was with four or five other women at the station, but I did not look at them—when the prisoner came five or six other customer were there.
MARY ANN KNIGHT . I am a check at the S.E. Post Office, Blackman Street, Borough—on 8th October, between 2 and 2.30, I saw the prisoner there for a few minutes—Miss Cullen was then a clerk under me, and I had given her 10l. About a quarter of an hour before—just after saw the prisoner I checked the cash, and it was 19s. deficient; I described the prisoner to the police—I have no doubt at all as to her identity, I identified her at the station from other women.
Cross-examined. I was alone when I identified her—I only saw her for a few minutes in the shop, there were other customers there and several assistants behind the counter—I came out to check the money and saw her, I was at my desk opposite her—she was dressed differently when I saw her at the station; I went there with sergeant Harvey; other clerks were there, and they picked her out too.
Re-examined. When I picked her out at the station Miss cullen and Miss Coombs were there—I think I saw Miss Cullen before I saw the prisoner, but I don't think I spoke to her—I had given a description of the women.
JOHN PRAED (Detective Sergeant Y). On 2nd October I met the prisoner in Smithfield; she knew me, and I said "I am a police Officer, and and am going to take you in custody on suspicion of obtaining money by ringing the changes on a sovereign"—she said "I am d—d if you do," and became very violent, a mob assembled, and I had to get a constable to assist me—I took her to Stones End Station and charged her—after she was identified she said "I am innocent."
MARGARET BEST . I am female searcher set Stones End Station—on 22nd October I searched the prisoner; she had on a silver watch and two brooches, and I found on her 2l. 7s. 9d. In silver and 5s. 7d. In bronze, a pen and pencil, five rings, and six penny stamps.
MESSRS. GILL and BAGGALLAY Prosecuted; MR. HATTON Defended.
SARAH TURNER . I am a clerk at the N.W. District Post-office, Eversholt Street, Camden Town—on 25th March the prisoner came in and said that a gentleman at a newspaper shop wanted a half-sovereign for ten shillings worth of silver, there is a newspaper shop opposite, and the proprietor is a customer—I took her silver, counted it, and passed her a half-sovereign—she said "Oh! what is this?" and I saw a sixpense exactly where I had placed the half-sovereign—I said "Did not I take that up with the silver?"—she said "No, you have just placed it there"—I took the sixpence and placed another half-sovereign there; she left, and I counted my cash and found it 9s. 6d. short—I gave a description of the woman, and afterwards identified her at Holloway.
GUILTY . She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerken-well in March, 1886. (The were two other indictments against the prisoner.)— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
HARDY and RYAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDEBS Prosecuted.
GEORGE ROLF (Policeman W 409). About 2 o'clock on the morning of 24th October I was on duty in Water Lane, Briton, and I saw the three prisoners at the corner—they crossed Brixton Hill, and spoke to a constable—I spoke to the constable, and followed the prisoners about 300 yards down Brixton Hill—they all three went into the garden of 11, Brixton Hill—I followed them—I saw Hardy come out of the area window; two constables caught hold of him—I and another constable went into the breakfast parlour, and found Ryan and Holdman—they ran out through a passage at the back, and over the garden wall; I followed—on the wall Holdman threw a brick at Ryder, which struck him on the head—eventually we lost sight of the two men at the corner of Water Lane—a plain-clothes man afterwards took Ryan in custody.
ALFRED RYDER (Policeman W 78). On this morning I was on duty on Brixton Hill—the three prisoners came across from Water Lane, and Holdman asked me to direct him to Kennington—I had suspicion, and with the last witness followed them—I heard what Rolf said at the police-court, I corroborate him—I have not the slightest doubt Holdman was the man.
URBAN HOBDEN (Policeman W 29). I searched Hardy when he was brought to Brixton Station, and found on him this knife and other articles, among them three purses, a screwdriver, spoon and fork—Ryan was afterwards brought in.
EDWARD WEST (Policeman W 1). I went to 11, Brixton Hill, and examined the premises—on the kitchen window I found certain marks on the catch and sash, such as might have been made by a knife—the place had been ransacked—on the table I found a sewing-machine, a
silver-plated coffee-pot, and other articles, all packed up ready for moving.
JOHN TAPPIN (Policeman W 257). About a quarter past 3 on the morning of 24th October I saw Ryan and Holdman come from Water Lane into Dulwich Road, running and carrying their shoes under their arms—when they saw me they turned round and ran back again through Water Lane—I ran after them, and caught Ryan about half a mile from there—I found some of these articles on him—he said "The b——should find us some work to do, and then we should not break into people's houses"—at 1 o'clock on the morning of 4th November I arrested Holdman—I told him I should take him to Brixton Police-station, where he would be charged with being concerned with two others in custody with burglariously breaking and entering the house 11, Brixton Hill—he said "I think you have made a mistake; I left here on Monday, the 23rd, and went to Dorking, Surrey, to look for work, and did not come back to London till last Wednesday" (that would be 2nd November)—I have no doubt whatever he is one of the two men I saw running on that night.
CHARLOTTE BRIGGS . I am servant to Mrs. Buck, of 11, Brixton Hill—on the night of 23rd October I went to bed a little before 11 o'clock, leaving the window and the catch and all secure in the house—this sewing-machine is my property, and the other articles are the property of my mistress.
The prisoner in his defence said that he went to Tunbridge Wells seeking employment, and that on the 23rd and 24th he was at East Grinstead; that he had only returned to London the night before he was taken into custody, and that he had never seen the other prisoners before.
NOT GUILTY .
HARDY and RYAN.— Eighteen Months' Hard labour each.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
THOMAS TAYLOR (Policeman W 503). A few minutes before 4 a.m. on 10th November I was in London Road, South Lambeth, in plain clothes—I saw the prisoner and two other men walking away about 150 yards from studley Road towards the Wands worth Road—I walked after them to within a few yards of them, and started running; they also ran—the prisoner threw down this basket—I ran after him, and caught him after about 150 yards—he said "All right, governor; I will go quietly"—I took him back and picked tip this basket, which contained boots and a pair of gloves—he was taken to the station—he was wearing a coat which has been identified as the property of Mr. Donelly—in the pockets were a piece of cheese, butter, and other articles—he was charged with unlawful possession—he said he found them in an urinal; he was quite sober.
I went to bed at 2 o'clock leaving everything secure as far as I could see—at 7 o'clock in the morning, when I got up, I found the back drawing-room window open, and the gas alight in that room and in the front parlour and kitchen—I had been sitting in the front parlour—I missed a quantity of property in the morning, which I have since seen in the possession of the police and identified.
DONALD FRASER (Inspector W). On 10th November I examined the premises at Studley Road—I found footsteps leading from the back garden to the back drawing-room window and the conservatory outside the window—outside the conservatory I found au old pair of boots—there were marks on the window-sash—the window had been forced open, and an entry made in that way.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he found the things in an urinal.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in March, 1886.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BAKER and G. DILL Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
LYONS and SMITH PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
EMMA ADAMS . I am married, and live at 2, Stangate Street, Lambeth—Banks took lodgings on 12th October for himself and his wife at 6s. a week; they occupied the back parlour—Smith slept there one night on a mattress which he took off the bed and put on the floor in their room; I objected to that, and Banks said "When you have another room this young fellow will take it"—I understood they were brothers; I heard the wife say so, and when I objected he said "It is only my brother"—Smith continued to occupy the room with Banks and his wife until the Saturday, and then Smith took the front parlour—I never saw Lyons till he was taken on the 26th; I then saw him in bed with Smith and Maynard—I have seen Banks and Smith go in and out together.
Cross-examined by Banks. I received the rent from Smith—he was there a fortnight.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). On October 26th, about midnight, I went with McAuhff and another officer to 2, Stangate Street, and in the first floor front bedroom found Maynard, Lyons, and Smith all the same bed—I searched some coats which were hanging behind the door, and in Lyons' coat I found a bundle of half-crowns, dated 1883, and in Smith's outside coat pocket a packet containing 12 half-crowns wrapped separately in tissue paper, and in the inside pocket a packet
containing 17 florins similarly wrapped (produced)—I took the tissue paper off to examine them, it bears the marks of the coins—a conversation, took place between me and Smith and Lyons, in consequence of which I went into the back room and found Banks in bed with two women—I said "Banks, your friends, the three youngsters, are in custody in the adjoining room for the possession of and uttering counterfeit coin. Smith tells me that he received the whole of money from you this evening before he went out"—he said "It is a lie; I have not been out this evening"—I said "I shall search the room"—I did so and under the table I found this piece of tissue paper bearing four distinct impressions of half-crowns—I said "Banks, how do you account for this tissue paper? It has had counterfeit coin in it"—he said "You might have put it there yourself; I know nothing about it"—one of the women said "Jack, your friends are going to put you away"—he said "Yes, the same as they have done before"—I got him to dress, took him into the front room, where Maynard, Lyons, and Smith were detained, and said Now, Smith, whatever you have got to say about Banks you had better say in his presence"—he said to Banks "What did you give me this evening when I was in your room?"—he said "Nothing"—Smith said "Don't tell lies; you know you gave me the money; I gave you 13s. good money when I came home"—he said "Yes, I was going to pay the rent of the two rooms with that, to-morrow"—I told them they would all be charged with the possession of the coin found—Banks said "You found nothing on me"—Lyons said "We were all together, and Smith gave me the half-crowns—I found on Banks 13s. 3d. in good money, and on Smith 2s.—Banks said "You found nothing on me, and you have no evidence"—Mrs. Adams was present the whole time; she said "That money belongs to me for the two rooms. He has taken the rooms. The little fellow is his brother," referring to Smith.
Cross-examined by Banks. I did not say that Smith said he sold them to you; I said gave them.
CORNELIUS MCAULIFFE (Policeman L 108). On the night of October 26th I went to Stangate Street with Sergeant Ward, and saw the three men in bed—I have heard Ward's evidence; it is correct—he left the room and wont into the next room, and came back in a little time with Banks in custody, when a further conversation took place which he has spoken to; that is correct—Banks was the only man who made any reply at the station.
GEORGE LYONS (The Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to the indictment—I never knew Banks, but I saw him in Smith's company on the Saturday, four days before we were taken in custody—I was then in Westminster Bridge Road; they were on the other side—Smith came over, and spoke to me—I had never spoken to Banks then, but I know it was Banks because I saw him in custody—Saturday night, the 22nd, was the first time I had slept at Stangate Street—I knew Banks was living in the next room—a bad half-crown was found in my coat in that room—I had been out With Smith, but had no counterfeit coin when we were out together, nor did I know that he had any—I got that coin from him; that was the first counterfeit coin I had.
RICHARD SMITH (The Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—I have known Banks three weeks—on 19th October I met him in a public-house—I had never spoken to him before—we talked about horse
racing, and I went home with him, and slept there from Saturday night till I was arrested on the 22nd—I had occupied the room four days when I was taken in custody—I knew all that time that Banks occupied the next room—I did nothing for a living—my mother kept me—Banks did not tell me why he paid for my room—11 half-crowns and 17 florins were found in my pocket—I have pleaded guilty to having them with intent to utter them—I bought them at the corner of the New Cut and the Westminster Bridge Road in tissue paper just as they were found—on 26th October I saw Banks at 9 p.m. in his room—I did not see a piece of tissue paper lying on the floor—it is true, as Lyons as said, that he was on one side of Westminster Bridge Road, and I and Banks on the other, and that I went across and spoke to him—that is not far from the place where I bought the coins—I had never been there before—a man, whom I did not know, came and asked me to buy the coins—he spoke to me casually—Banks was not there—I gave the man 3s. for them—I got it from a mate, Harry Tudor, on the same night, Wednesday, 19th October, the night I was taken in custody about 10 o'clock—I got back to Stangate Street about a quarter to 12—Banks asked me about the money—he asked me to go home with him, and I did so—he gave me no reason why he wanted me.
Cross-examined by Banks. I said that my mother would not let me in, and you said "Come and sleep at my place"—you did not know that I had these coins that I know of—I told you that I had been paid some money owing to me, and I went out—I never spoke to you again.
Re-examined. When Ward came back with Banks in custody he did not say "Banks, three lads in the adjoining room are in custody for having counterfeit coin, and Smith says he received the coin from you," or words like that—I remember saying "It is a lie, I have not been out this evening—I do not remember it being said by anybody that evening that I had got the coins from Banks—I do not remember the officer, saying "If you have got anything to say, Banks is present, and now, in the opportunity for saying it"—I said to Banks "What did you give me in the room this evening?"—he said "I did not give you anything"—I did not go on to say "I gave you 13s. good money on my return"—I said nothing about 13s.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These 12 half-crowns are counterfeit, and several of them from the same mould—these 17 half-crowns are counterfeit, and several of them are from the same mould—there are distinct marks of coins on these papers, I believe of florins—the coins are rubbed over with lampblack to give them tone—tissue-paper is the proper thing to wrap them in, that leaves the marks more distinct, we always used to have it.
Banks's Defence. The landlady can prove I was in bed at 9 o'clock.
BANKS— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin in September, 1875.— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
LYONS and SMITH PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
EMILY SHARPE . I am a general dealer, of 20, Upper Marsh, Lambeth—on October 26th, about 10 p.m., I served Maynard with two pennyworth of acid tablets; he gave me a florin, I gave him 1s. 10d. change, and put it on a shelf at the back of the counter—I afterwards gave it to McAuliffe—my son found it to be bad, this is it.
Cross-examined by Maynard. There were no other coins where I put it—when I identified you I did not say "I think it is the second one"—the constable told me to touch the man, and I touched you—I am sure you are the man.
ALFRED WARD . This witness repeated his former evidence and added: When I looked at the coats I said "From your clothes you answer the description of three men who have been actively engaged in passing counterfeit coin during the evening, I am about to search your clothes in the room"—I found nothing in Maynard's clothes—Smith, said "Go to the next room, and you will find Banks in bed with two women; we are only youngsters at the game, he has done time for it"—Maynard said, "You found nothing on me, I do not live here at all, I am only home from the Militia."
EMMA ADAMS . I never saw Adams till the evening when Ward was in the room—I said "What business have you here"—my husband was present—Maynard said he had only slept there that night—it was then between 11 and 12 o'clock.
Witnesses for Maynard's Defence.
GEORGE LYONS (The Prisoner). I have known you a long while—I was last in your company at Chatham; I am not in the Militia—on 26th October I saw you in a public-house exhibiting yourself as a tattooed man—you said you wanted a lodging, and I said you could come home with me—I did not see that you had any money, but I saw you pay for a pot of beer—I was going to send you to Hounslow next morning to join the Fusiliers.
Cross-examined. He paid for a quart of beer at the Hand-in-Hand. Westminster Bridge Road; that is not near Upper Marsh, Lambeth—it might have been rather earlier than 11 o'clock—I did not see that he had any acid tablets—he had been in the Militia, and still is—Smith was with me on that night—when we went home Smith and me went in first, so that the landlady should not know Maynard came in, and then we let him in.
RICHARD SMITH (The Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—on 26th October I was at the Hand in Hand, Westminster Bridge Road, in front of the bar showing my tattoo marks—Maynard told my friend Lyons that he had no lodging; Lyons said "Well, you can come home with us for the night," and he did so.
Maynard in his defence stated that he was taken home by the other prisoners, who gave him a lodging, as he was going from Chatham to Manchester to join the Militia.
MAYNARD— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour. LYONS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. SMITH— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT commended Sergeant Ward and McAuliffe for the manner in which they had performed their duty.
EDWARD EPPS LARKIN . I live at 243 A, Lewisham High Road; that is a post-office—on 6th October, about 8 p.m., the prisoner came in for 24 postage stamps—he put down a florin, and was putting the stamps in an envelope as ho went out—I saw the florin was bad, followed him, stopped him, and said "Do you know yon have given me a bad coin?"—he said "Dear me, have I? it will be a great loss to me, but I know where I took it, I took it in change for a half-sovereign at a beerhouse"—he went back with me, and went into a public-house, saying he would get change for a half-crown—I stood at the door—he came out and gave me 2s.—I still requested him to come back with me; he did so, and I sent for a constable—he was charged at Greenwich Police-court, remanded, and discharged.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say "Are you sure this is the one I gave you?" nor did you say "It is not."
Re-examined. The envelope was not in his hand afterwards; I did not see him post it.
ROBERT BAYNHAM (Policeman R 72). Mr. Larkin gave the prisoner into my custody—I told him the charge—he said "I must have got it at the Zoological beer-shop in Amelia Street, Walworth, when I changed a half-sovereign—he gave his address "Robert Tilley, Walworth"—he was asked again at the station, and he said "I refuse my address"—I found on him a good shilling and 5d.—he was remanded, and discharged on 14th October—this is the florin Mr. Larkin gave me.
Cross-examined. Inquiries were made by telegraph where you said you had changed the half-sovereign, the answer was that Robert Tiller had changed a half-sovereign the evening before, but they did not state what coin they gave you.
RACHEL HOW . I am assistant at 138, Manor Place, which is a baker's shop and post-office—on 21st November, about 6 p.m., the prisoner came in for 26 stamps—I put down 26, and he then said he did not want 26, only 25; I took I back and he put down a bad florin and 1d.—I had seen him before; I told him it was bad; he said "Oh no," I said "Oh yes it is, and I shall send for a policemen"—I shut the door; he said "I will fetch a policeman," but I put my back to the door and sent a young person out for a policeman—this is the coin.
WALTER GREY (Policeman L 311). I was called and took the prisoner and told him the charge; he made no reply at the time, but going to the station he said "I got it in change for a half-sovereign at the Elephant and Castle public-house"—he gave his name to the Inspector as Robert Parker—I searched him and found a good florin and a letter which was addressed and contained 25 stamps and this good florin (The letter was signed R. Parker, and addressed Mrs. Wren, 8, Elsted Street, Rodney Road)
I could not read that address, and have not made inquiries—the In spector asked his address; he said "Address refused."
Cross-examined. The inspector had that letter in his had when he booked the charge, but he could not read it.
The prisoner in his defence stated that his name was Robert Parker Tilley, and that he did not know the coins were bad.
GUILTY of the second uttering. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour ,
SIDSEY PAWSEY . My father keeps the Albert public-house, Heygate Street, Walworth, and I serve in the bar—on 2nd November, about 12.20 a.m., the prisoner came in for half a pint of beer—I served him; he tendered this shilling—I bent it in the tester, and said "This is bad," and gave it to my father, who gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. A customer asked you where you got it, and you said you must have got it in change for some gold last Saturday—I don't think I asked you any question, but I said "It is my custom to charge everybody who passes bad money."
JOHN CRESSEY (Policeman P 195). I took the prisoner on 2nd November, and said "You heard what the landlord said, I think you must have known this is bad;" he said "I did not or I would have thrown it in the gutter"—he gave his name Henry Marrycroft, of no fixed home; I found on him 4d., a knife, and two powders, one grey and one black, which I believe are for smoothing coins; he was remanded till the 9th and then discharged.
Cross-examined. You did not give your address Morton's boarding house, Blackfriars.
ARTHUR HENRY WRATE . I am manager to Philip John Jolley, grocer, of 117, Walworth Road—on Saturday night, 12th November, a man came in for half a pound of cocoa and half a pound of sugar; he gave me this shilling, I noticed that it was bad—he threw the things on the counter and ran away, leaving the shilling behind him—two hours later the prisoner came in and called for two ounces of tea and a pound of sugar, and tendered this half-crown (produced)—I gave him 2s. 1d. change, and immediately saw it was bad—I laid it on top of the patent till and went after him and gave him in charge—he was with two other men, one of whom is the man who had brought the shilling—I took the prisoner back to the shop, he made no reply, and took no notice of what I said to him—the other man ran down Heygate Street.
Cross-examined. I did not put the half-crown in the till; we cannot do so; it is a patent check till—I had also tried it with my teeth—you did not pull out your purse and offer me half-a-crown for it.
JOSEPH MARTINDALE . I took the prisoner, and asked him where he got the coin—he made no reply, but said "All right; I will go quietly"—he was sober—I saw him put down the cocoa and sugar—I received this half-crown and shilling from Mr. Wrate—he gave his name
Alfred Beaumont, and said that he lived in common lodging houses—I found on him another florin, a half-crown, two shillings, and a penny, all good.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This florin and half-crown are counterfeit—this looks like emery powder—it may be used for any polishing purposes; the other looks like lampblack—it would be used to give counterfeit coins a tone.
Cross-examined. I cannot smell the powder as tobacco-ash.
The prisoner in his defence contended that if he had known the coins were bad he should not have been likely to go into a shop with them within three day of his discharge in the former case. He stated that he borrowed half-a-crown on his release from his sister at Paddington, which he changed, and got the bad coins in that way.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
TRYPHENA PAGE . I am barmaid at the Prince William Henry, Black friars Road—on November 10th, about 3 p.m., the prisoner came in with another man and asked for half a pint of ale, which came to 3d., and gave me this florin—I bent it in the tester and gave it to the manager—the other man escaped.
HENRY JOHN MANNING . I keep the Prince William Henry—the last witness gave me this florin bent as it is now, but not stained like this; it has been tested—I jumped over the counter, got against the door, and said "Which is the man who gave it to you?"—she said "That is the man, "pointing to the prisoner—I said "Has he any one with him?"—she said "Yes, that young man," pointing to the other—I said "I must detain you for uttering counterfeit coin"—he made no answer I called a constable—the other man got away in the excitement—there was a disturbance on at the time, but it had nothing to do with this man I gave the prisoner in charge with the coin, and six other bad coins which had been tendered to me.
Cross-examined. When the constable charged you said "I got it in change for half-a-sovereign."
WILLIAM THOMAS MITCHELL . I keep the Anchor and Hope, Horseferry Road, Ratcliff—on 15th October a youth named James Williams came in and asked for something, and gave me a bad half-crown while he was there I noticed the prisoner and others looking through the window—I gave Williams in charge—he was taken into a back room and searched—the prisoner and another man were still looking through the front window at what was going on with the boy inside—I got my coat and chased the prisoner as far as Stepney Church, but he got away.
GEORGE CAPES (Policeman L 33). On 10th November I was called and took the prisoner—I said "This gentleman will charge you with uttering counterfeit coin"—he said "I got it in change of half-a-sovereign"—I said "Where?"—he said "I shall not tell you"—I searched him, and found a good florin and a penny—I asked his address at the station, he said "I refuse; my wife is ill"—these are the coins (produced).
Cross-examined. You did not say you were not guilty of knowing it was bad while I was there.
and three florins also are counterfeit, and the three florins are from the same mould as the one uttered.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Count in November, 1884, of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, in the name of George Harris.— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMBER 12TH, 1887.