CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SIXTH SESSION, HELD MARCH 19TH, 1888.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
SESSIONS VIL TO XII
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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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, March 19th, 1888, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. POLYDORE DE KEYSER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., Alderman of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; STUART KNILL , Esq., Joseph RENALS, Esq., and WALTER HENRY WILKIN , 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.,
THOMAS BEARD, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
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, March 19th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
386. HENRY CHARLES STANSCOMBE (37) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing, whilst employed in the Post-office, two letters containing money the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
388. WILLIAM PEDRICK KIRBY (40) to stealing a watch and greatcoat of Walter Wellock; also to obtaining two sums of 2l. by false pretences, and to a previous conviction for a like offence in 1884.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
390. JAMES HEALEY (15), REUBEN SMITH (13), and THOMAS KEEFE (13) , for a burglary in the dwelling-house of John Crowther, with intent to steal. HEALEY and SMITH PLEADED GUILTY .— One Day's Imprisonment each. No evidence was offered against
KEEFE.— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 19th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant,
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
BELINDA AMBROSE . My husband is a confectioner, of 51, Boleyn Road, Islington—on 21st February, about 7 p.m., I served a man about Jones's size, who I cannot identify, with some chocolate, price 1d.—he gave me a threepenny bit, which I put in the till without looking at, and gave him 2d. change, and he left—Nott came in immediately—there was no
coin in the till but the threepenny piece—I gave it to him—that chocolate (produced) is exactly like what I sold him.
ELIZA DODD . My husband is a baker, of 154, Boleyn Road, Hackney—part of the road is in Islington and part in Hackney—on 21st February, about 7. 30 p.m., I sold Jones a penny loaf—he gave me a threepenny piece—I put it in the till, gave him the change, and he left—a constable then came in—I looked at the coin I had put in the till—there was no other coin there—I found it bad—this is it (produced)—it has a little mark on it—the loaf was the one I sold, I made it and baked it.
Cross-examined by Jones. I swear you are the man.
WILLIAM NOTT (Detective Officer J). On 1st February I was on duty in Kingsland Road, and saw the two prisoners in company, constantly joining and separating, Jones was a little ahead of the woman—Sergeant Hearn joined me, and we followed them to Boleyn Road, where Jones went into Mr. Ambrose's shop and Brownlow remained on the other side of the road by herself—Jones came out, joined her, and spoke to her—I went into the shop and spoke to Mrs. Ambrose, who went to the till and took out this threepenny piece—we then followed the prisoners again—Jones went into Mrs. Dodd's, and Brownlow walked past the shop on the same side—Jones came out with something in his hand, which he handed to Brownlow—I went into the shop and spoke to Mrs. Dodd, who examined the till, and took out a threepenny piece, which she showed me, but would not give it to me—I went outside, but could not see them—I ran up two or three roads, picked them up in the Green Lanes, and followed them to a public-house—they went into a public-house, and when they came out I stopped them, told them I was a police officer, and should take them in custody for being concerned together in uttering counterfeit coin—Jones said "I never saw this woman before in my life"—she said "I never saw this man before in my life"—I searched Jones there, and found a penny on him—Brownlow was wearing an apron with a pocket under it—I found in the apron two loaves, this piece of chocolate, and 1 1/2 d.—I went 0 presence.
Cross-examined. by Jones. I stopped you in the road and pushed you into a shop.
Cross-examined by Brownlow. I did not take the pocket from you—I took the loaf out of your pocket at the station, not in the street—you said that you picked it up; you did not say where—the searcher brought me the pocket—she searched you, but I had found the chocolate and the loaf before that—she had got her apron in her hand like this.
EDWARD HEARN (Police Sergeant N). I joined Nott at Kingsland Gate, and we followed the prisoners to Boleyn Road, and lost sight of them for a time—I afterwards saw them in custody, and heard them charged—Jones said "I never saw that woman before in my life"—she said "I never saw that man before in my life"—they were taken to the station—Jones was asked his address, and said "I have no fixed abode'—the woman gave her address, 8, Fielding Street, Bethnal Green—I went there; it was not correct—'I saw Jones go into Mrs. Ambrose's, and come out and join Brownlow.
Jones's Defence. I never saw this woman before in my life.
Brownlow's Defence. I was not with the man, and I don't know him. When the policeman threw the man down, I picked up the bread outside the doctor's shop.
GUILTY . They then
PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions at this Court of uttering counterfeit coin, Jones in June, 1880, Brownlow in March, 1879. Five previous convictions were proved against Jones, and three against Brownlow. JONES— Two Years' Hard Labour. BROWNLOW— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALBERT HUNT . I am barman at the Sun and Apple Tree, White Hart Street, Strand—on the evening of 5th March I served the prisoner with three halfpennyworth of rum—he gave me this sixpence (produced)—I found it was bad, and took it to Mr. Davey, the manager, in the bar parlour, who came out and said to the prisoner "Have you got any more like this?"—he said "Give it to me back, I have just taken it from a 'bus conductor," and put his hand in his pocket, and was edging to the street-door—I fetched a constable, and when I came back I saw the prisoner struggling with the manager.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were at the end of the counter when I served you—I took the coin to the till—there was no other silver there—it is a patent till—it was about seven yards from you—you were standing at the counter when I came back.
Re-examined I did not put the coin in the till—it did not go out of my hands.
FRANK HENRY DAVEY . I am manager of the Sun and Apple Tree—on 5th March I was in the bar parlour—Hunt came and spoke to me, and handed me a sixpence—I found it was bad, and took it to the bar where the prisoner was, and said to him "What sort of a man do you call yourself? how many more have you got of these?"—he said "Give it to me back; I have just taken it from a 'bus"—I said "No," and told the barman to go for a constable—the prisoner immediately made for the door—I stopped him—he resisted violently, but I detained him until a constable arrived—just as the constable came in a customer in the bar caught the prisoner by his right shoulder—this is the coin, I marked it.
Cross-examined by I pressed the charge against you at the station—I was not called to give evidence the next morning, but I was there—I gave my information to the sergeant at the station—he wrote it down, and I signed it—you stopped at the counter while the barman came to me with the sixpence, because you expected I was coming to the inside of the bar, but I surprised you by coming to the outside.
Re-examined He was very violent, but I think he was sober—he could not see me till I got round to him.
WILLIAM FOY (Policeman E 19). On the afternoon of 5th March I was called to the Sun and Apple Tree, and there saw the prisoner in the bar struggling with Mr. Davey and a third party—Mr. Davey said "I charge this man with attempting to pass a bad sixpence"—the prisoner said "I am innocent; it is all through a drop of drink"—I told him I should search him, and asked if he had any more coin—he said "I shan't allow you to search me, but I have some more money"—I tried to search him, but he was so violent that I found if I attempted to search him he would
escape—another constable came, and with his help I took him in custody—I again attempted to search him, but he continued struggling, and fearing he would escape I took hold of one hand, and the constable took the other—when we got outside he dragged us all three down—he asked to be allowed to put his hand in his pocket for a piece of tobacco, but I said "No"—he said "Well, you will have to take me; I shan't go"—two other constables arrived, and he quieted down a little, and said he would walk—at the station he was charged with the uttering, and said "I know nothing about it"—he was asked his address, and said "I have no fixed home"—he was so violent at the station that he had to be held while I searched him—I found on him a half-crown, a shilling, and 1s. 2d. in pence, all good, but no tobacco—this sixpence I received from Mr. Davey—he marked it in my presence—the prisoner was sober.
Cross-examined by You smelt of drink, but your speech was good.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I came from Cannon Street on a 'bus to the Strand, and got down at Southampton Street. Before I left the 'bus I gave the conductor a two-shilling piece, and he gave me the sixpence in change. I had been drinking freely and got excited when the charge was made against me, though innocent. I told that constable I was innocent."
The prisoner repeated the same statement in his defence.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin in November, 1886.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
MR.HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
ELIZABETH BIRD . I serve at Deacon's Coffee House, 3, Walbrook—on 4th February, about 9.30 p.m., the prisoner came in and asked for soda and brandy; I served him and he gave me half-a-crown in payment—I gave him the change—I looked at the coin and handed it to the manager, who gave him in custody.
WILLIAM BARBER . I am manager of Deacon's Coffee House—the last witness handed me a bad half-crown—I went round and told the prisoner it was bad, and I should detain him till a constable came—I gave him in custody with the coin—he said nothing.
WALTER AUSTIN (City Policeman 692). On 4th February I was called to Deacon's Coffee House and took the prisoner in custody with this counterfeit half-crown—Mr. Barber said he should charge him with uttering it, and ho said he was sorry, but he did not know it was bad—I took him to the station and charged him, and he said that he had changed money several times during the day, and paid money away, and he must have had it given him in change—I found on him 9s. in silver; he gave me his name William Anderson, 114, Brockenhurst Road, Hatcham Park, New Cross—the sergeant did not take the charge at the station, and he was allowed to go.
Cross-examined by Ho said at the station "Ihave changed money during the day and I must have had it given me in change"—that was not said in answer to the prosecutor saying he would charge him.
Re-examined I made a note of it and by that note it appears to have been said at the station.
HARRY SPENCER . I am manager to Messrs. Terry and Co., tobacconists, of 153, Cheapside—on 9th February, about 8. 25 p.m., the prisoner came in for a sixpenny cigar—I asked him what brand he would like and he said a Larranaga—he gave me this florin; I gave him 1s. 6d. change, and as he was going out I said "Here, you have given me a bad two-shilling piece"—he took it from me and put it between his teeth and said "Yes, it is a bad one, where could I have got it from?" he paused a second or two and said "Oh, I know, I changed a half-sovereign for my dinner, and must have got this in change"—he put his hand in his pocket and brought out a good half-crown and threw it down and said "That is a good one, is it not?"—I took it in my hand and said "Unless you make good the bad half-crown you passed here ten days or a fortnight ago, I shall give you in custody"—he said "I am sure you must have made a mistake, this is a new shop, I have never been in here before"—it had been opened about six weeks then—he walked out rather sharp towards Newgate Street, leaving me the good half-crown—he had got the 1s. 6d. and the cigar, so that he left me sixpence to the good—I went after him and gave him in custody—he had come in before on the 24th for a sixpenny cigar; I asked him what brand he wanted, he said a Larranaga—I principally recognised him by his Ulster—he gave me a bad florin; I kept it a day or two and then put it in a slow fire—it melted very quickly and ran through.
Cross-examined by I did not recognise him at once—I had not seen him before the 24th—he said "I am very sorry; I had no idea it was bad."
Re-examined I have not the slightest doubt he is the man who came on the first occasion—I held the light while he lighted the eigar.
HENRY HARNETT (Policeman 302). I was called, and Spencer said "This man came into my shop and called for a 6d. cigar, and tendered a two-shilling piece in payment; I have since examined it, and find it is had; I also recognise him as the man who came in here 10 days or a fortnight ago, and tendered a bad half-crown"—I said to the prisoner "You have heard what he says"—he said "Yes, I went in and called for a 6d. cigar, and tendered a two-shilling piece, and he gave me 1s. 6d.change; as I was leaving he called me back and said the two-shilling piece was bad, and I gave him a half-crown; I am sure I was not in the shop before"—Spencer handed me this bad florin and good half-crown—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found two shillings, three sixpences, and 5 1/2 d. in coppers, all good, two new scarves done up separately in paper, three new elastic bands, a pocket-knife, three new studs, and a small new purse—he was wearing this watch-chain, with this key attached—he gave his name John Scott, 3l., Lambeth Road—I found that he lived there.
Cross-examined by The scarves were new done up in a separate piece of paper, but they have been in my pocket for a long time now.
Witness for the Defence.
JOSEPH Kopp. I live at 6, Sandcroft Street, Kennington Cross, and am a waiter—I know the prisoner as an acquaintance—on 1st February I saw him close to St. George's Circus, and went with him to Mr. Barnett, a pawnbroker, 10, St. George's Circus—he wanted to redeem an overcoat for 15s., but when he got inside he discovered that he had not got the ticket, and he asked me to go to his address and get it—I did so, and
came back to the pawnbroker's and got the overcoat—the prisoner was then wearing a black diagonal coat, not an Ulster—he pledged the black overcoat for 15s., and then wanted to redeem the overcoat—they were both appraised at the same value—the coats were exchanged, and this ticket of 1st February was given to him—I paid 4d. interest and 1d. for the ticket—he gave me the money.
Cross-examined by I have known him a few years—I don't know if he often changes his great coats—I have no idea why he pawned this coat—he said he did not feel very warm in the one he had—the coat he is wearing now is the one I got out of pawn—I am certain it is the same—I don't know why he did not go back and fetch the ticket—he sent me back to fetch the coat—I believe his tea was ready, that was why he did not go back—I got the ticket from 3l., Lambeth Road, where he lived—I don't know why he gave 6, Lambeth Road on the ticket—the black coat had been pledged before—I don't know whether that ticket was paid for then—I did not look at the ticket when I carried it to the pawnbroker's.
GUILTY . **— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 20th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
ANN STALLION . I live at 35, Park Lane, Baker Street—the prisoner is my husband—on Sunday, 19th February, I lived at 19, New Street Mews, Dorset Square—about half-past 7 o'clock on Sunday morning I was at home with my husband in the ground floor—we have two rooms—I asked him to reach me a little saucepan from a cupboard that he sat close to—he told me to get it myself—I stooped to get it, and he hit me a heavy blow on the top of my head—I turned round sharp to get away from the cupboard towards the door loading to my bedroom, and he hit me on this side of the head and on the head—I struggled and got away from him the best way I could, and got into the mews, and called for a neighbour to come and take me to a doctor's to have my head dressed—that is all I recollect—I went to Dr. Jones at the Western General Dispensary—I had slept with one of my daughters on the night before this, because I was in great fear of the prisoner—I have often done so; that was because he was in the habit of drinking, and when he is drunk he is like a madman, and I avoided all that—he has also threatened me, and about five or six months ago he said he would rip me up—he has also given me black eyes, but I have forgiven him all that when he asked me to do so—he has been a very good man when sober, but when drunk he has been like a man out of his mind—I could not tell you if he was sober on this morning.
ERNEST LLOYD JONES . I am junior house surgeon at the Western General Dispensary—on the morning of 19th February, shortly after 8 o'clock, the last witness came to me to have her head dressed—she had four contused wounds on the head and several bruises about the body—they were severe wounds in so far that complication might arise from them—they might have been caused very likely by the thin end of this
poker—she had an attack of fever in consequence of the wounds—her life was in actual danger for five or six days, and not out of danger for five or six days afterwards—the wounds must have been inflicted with a good deal of violence—at the police-court the prisoner said that he struck her once, and then he said he might have struck her twice.
FREDERICK CRUSH (Policeman D 217). On 19th February I was called to the General Western Dispensary, where I saw Mrs. Stallion—she made a statement to me, and I went to 25, New Street Mews, and arrested the prisoner about 8.30 a. m.—I told him it was for assaulting his wife—he said "Yes, I did it with this poker" (produced)—it was lying in the fireplace at the time—he was sober.
The prisoner in his defence stated that hit wife was in the habit of drinking and leaving her home at night; that she led him a fearful life, and was always sneering at him for being a teetotaler, which he had been for five years.
ANN STALLION (Re-examined). What he says is not true—about five years ago he left me destitute, and went to live with another woman—I paid the rent and kept the house on my own responsibility—I did once throw a glass at him, but it slipped out of my hand—I only intended to throw the contents.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. GRAIN and ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ROBERT WILLIAM HARRISON . I am manager in the silk department of Messrs. Debenham and Freebody, of 37, St. Paul's Churchyard—on 24th February, about 3 p.m., the prisoner came in there—I asked what she wanted—she said "A piece of velvet"—I asked who it was for—she said "For Biddle Brothers, of Oxford Street"—they are customers of ours—she had a billhead in her hand of Hayward's; that is the name Biddle and Co. trade under—she did not show it to me; I saw it—she said she wanted about 10 yards, and that she would take the piece, and if it did not suit I should have it back on the following morning—I said I did not think they would allow her to have it, as she was not known to us—she said "Oh, it does not matter; if you give me a pattern I will get it elsewhere"—I said if she did not get it elsewhere I would see what I could do and let her have it—she then went out ostensibly to get it elsewhere, and returned in a few minutes, and not having procured it I told her I believed we should be able to let her have it—she said she particularly wanted to take it home in a cab, as they required to make it up very hurriedly—I said I would send it up, but she said they wanted it at once—I then gave her 2l. 1/2 yards, value 7l.—this is the invoice of it—it is silk ruby velvet and is 6s. 7 1/2 d. a yard—this is it (produced)—when I gave it to her I believed she came from Biddle and Co.—we gave Messrs. Biddle and Son a month's credit—she signed her right name in the book "A.E. Madgett."
Re-examined It is the frequent custom for business persons with whom we are acquainted to send persons for articles—I believed that the prisoner was an assistant to Biddle and Co.—had I known she was not I should not have parted with it.
OSCAR JOHN TAYLOR . I am a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Biddle and Co., warehousemen, of 166 and 168, Oxford Street, trading under the name of Hay wards—the prisoner was in their employ as millinery saleswoman for six months up to the 1st February in this year—she had no authority to go to Debenham and Freebody's to get this velvet.
Cross-examined by I did not dismiss her—she wrote to the firm saying she had met with an accident, and would probably be away some time, and asked if they would keep her situation open, and they declined to do so.
Re-examined That was on the 1st of February—she had been away for two or three days in the latter part of January.
JOHN DAVIES . I am a wardrobe dealer at 2, Crawford Street, Baker Street—on 24th February the prisoner came to me with this box—she said "I have got some velvet for sale; what will you allow me for it?" and she said she was giving up business as she was going away—I then took the velvet out of the shop and inspected it—I call myself a judge of velvet—I gave her two guineas for it—there was no bargaining; I took her for a lady and bought the stuff, and took her name and address, which was correct—the velvet is quite new—no inducement was held out to me to buy it—she said she had a musical box and a machine and some more stuff to sell, and I said I would wait upon her and buy it—there is no name on the box.
By the COURT. I did not measure it at all; she told me it was 211/2 yards—I opened about a yard and a half of it—she was quite a stranger to me—I thought this velvet cost about 4s.—it is very narrow—I gave her 2s. a yard, not quite half of what I thought it was worth.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective Sergeant). On 2nd March I received a warrant from the Mansion House, and went to Findon Road, Shepherd's Bush, and saw the prisoner leave a house, No. 3—I followed her and stopped her, and asked her if her name was Miss Madgett—she said "Yes"—I told her I was a police-officer, and was going to arrest her with reference to some velvet which she had obtained on 24th February—I read the warrant to her, and she said she had sold it the same day to Mr. Davies, of 2, Crawford Street, for 2l.—I then took her to the station and read the charge to her—she asked me to let her stand over, but I said I was a police-officer, and she would have to go to the station—these nine duplicates and this invoice were handed to me by the female searcher.
Cross-examined by She did not say she would send the money in the morning—she said "Cannot you let it stand over till the morning; I will send the money."
By the COURT. I did not take a memorandum of this conversation—we never take memorandums in the City.
GUILTY . — Judgment respited.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 20th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. CARTER Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. The prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
398. GEORGE JONES (23) and THOMAS HANCOCK (29) , Breaking and entering the warehouse of the Metropolitan Machinists Company, limited, and stealing six bicycles their property. Second Count, receiving the same. (See page 663).
MR. BURNIE and MR. SIMMONS Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON appeared for Hancock.
WALTER WOODS . I am manager of the Metropolitan Machinists Company, Limited—they are bicycle manufacturers at 75, Bishopsgate Street Without—on 13th February I locked up the premises safely—I was the last person to leave—I arrived next morning about 9. 40, and found the outer door still locked—I looked through the glass door and saw footmarks on the oilcloth inside—I opened the door and missed six safety bicycles, value 60l., which were safe the night before—four of them had our name on them—I informed the police, and on 17th February I went with Detectives Bacon and Savage to a railway arch at Hackney, and found two of the missing bicycles, those without our name, and next morning, the 18th, I saw the other four at Bishopsgate Police-station, and identified them—they had had the name of the firm on them, but it was removed—I had known Hancock about six months—he is a bicycle maker in Bishopsgate Street, within 50 yards of our warehouse.
Cross-examined by The arch is almost as large as this Court—it is divided into three, and Hancock has one-third—he used to do repairs for us.
CHARLES WINGRAVE . I am carman to Mr. Ems, 39, Forston Street, Shepherdess Walk, and live on the premises—on Monday night, February 13th, I received directions from Mr. Ems, and next morning I went with a horse and van to 75, Bishopsgate Street Without—I arrived there about a quarter to 8—the shop door was open, and Jones was inside—he came out and said "I have got six bicycles to come in"—that is into the van—he brought them out and I loaded them—he closed the shop door, went round the corner, came back in about a minute, and I said "Where are you going?"—he said "Dalston," and went with me to show me—we first stopped at Hancock's shop, but he spoke to nobody, nobody had come down—we then went to a railway arch close by and delivered the bicycles there—I afterwards pointed out the arch to the police—he came out and we drove back to his shop, where he spoke to a lady—we then went to a place in Ball's Pond Road—Jones called there and came out with a gentleman, and we all went into a public-house and had a drink—Jones paid me for the job and I went away—while we were driving I said to Jones, "These are new bicycles"—he said "Yes"—there were marks on them like this. (A stamp)—I did not see Jones again till he was in custody—I picked him out from five or six others.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I was at the archway a quarter of an hour—Jones was the only man I saw except some workmen—I do not know How—Hancock's shop is five or six doors from the archway—I do not know what shop it is, as it was shut up.
DAVID HOW . I am a bicycle salesman, of 182, Ball's Pond Road—on 13th February I was out of employment, having sprained my ankle, and between 2 and 3 p. m. Hancock came to me and said "Will you come to assist me to remove a piano?"—I said "Yes; when do you want me?"—he said "To-morrow at, 12 o'clock"—next day, at 10 o'clock, Jones called and said "I have just left Hancock, and will you come as soon as you can?"—Jones had a carman with him, and I saw a van at the corner of the street—we had a drink together—he paid the carman, who went
away, and Jones and I went to Hancock's house, but he was out—we met him about 2 o'clock, and he said "I have a piano for sale and a few other things, and as soon as I can find a person to give me a character I shall sell them"—I walked about with him on Tuesday trying to get somebody to give him a character, but he said "I am afraid there will be nothing done this day; you had better come up to-morrow"—next day, about 12 o'clock, I went to Hancock's house—he was not at home, but I met him in Pembury Road at 2 o'clock, and he went to Rectory Road to a place, where he said "If the man had been at home I would have bought up anything"—we tried several places, but he could not find anybody to give him a character, and he said "You had better come up again to-morrow; they are sure to be sold to-morrow, as I have seen a man in Morning Lane who I think will make an advance or buy them right out"—I went again next day, and Hancock was out—I went to Hay's public-house in Morning Lane, and saw him there—he said "The van will be here directly"—Jones was present and Hay's brother—between 2 and 3 o'clock the van pulled up alongside the public-house, and we all got into it with the carman and his brother, six in all—we drove to Hancock's house, and there removed a piano into the van—I went upstairs to fetch part of it down, and Hancock, the carman, and Hay fetched three bicycles, and put them into the van, and we all drove to a private house in the Hackney Road—I do not know the name of the street—I saw no one there, and nothing was delivered there—Hay's brother was in there and stayed half an hour—we then drove to a public-house I think in Mare Street, Bethnal Green, where the piano and three bicycles were delivered—I helped to carry the piano in, and saw money pass from Hay to Hancock—we then all came away—Hancock paid me at 8 o'clock the same night, 4s. 6d.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I did not give evidence at the policecourt—the police spoke to me about giving evidence here—I made no notes of what took place of the conversation, I simply speak from memory—I had known Jones about six weeks—I met him in Ball's Pond Road on Monday, 15th February, and went with him to a public-house—I did not hear him suggest that he should want a loan on some bicycles—I was not in their company an hour on that Monday—I left Jones with Hancock—I have been out of employment three weeks or a month—I was at Rugby's three weeks, and slipped down and sprained my ankle—before that I was at Fisher's, a bicycle maker—I left there because there was nothing further for me to do—before that I was at Goy and Co. 's, Leadenhall Street, for seven years, and left of my own accord; I was not discharged—I was at the Aquarium from Monday to Thursday, and then I sprained my ankle—I only sprained my ankle once—I called on Mr. Reynolds on the Thursday at the Aquarium, and he spoke to me—I offered two bicycles for sale there—I did not state that they were made by Jones, but Jones was with me, and he may have said that he made them—he suggested that we should call there—I had known Mr. Reynolds before—I had no particular bicycle to sell him—I was going to buy one from a manufacturer if I got the order, and I should have made a profit on it.
MATTHEW TRIGG . I am a bicycle manufacturer, of 108, Palatine Road, Stoke Newington—on 13th February, just before dinner, I saw Hancock at the corner of my works—he said "Mr. How has been to me, and he knows of four or six new safety machines for sale"—I said "Do
you know where they are coming from?"—he said "How will introduce the man to you, and they will bring a sample one down to show; hare you any money that you can spare to purchase them?"—I said No; you know I have no money, because trade has been so bad so long—he said that How wanted the money sharp—he went away, and next day about the same time he came to my workshop, and said "Do you know of a customer for the machines?"—I said "Yes, I think I do; where can they be seen?"—he said "I can't tell you; I will let you know later on," and went away—on the Thursday I went to his house; he was not at home—I went to a public-house, and saw him—he came outside, and I said "I have got a customer for those machines—he said "You know they told me they would bring one down for a sample; they have brought all the lot"—I said "It seems strange they should bring the lot; have you bought them?"—he said "No, 1 can't get the money"—I said "I have a customer for them, but he won't deal with you"—he then took me to the railway arch and showed them to me—I can't say how many there were, but there were more than two—I did not examine them—I simply looked at them, and saw that they were safety machines and new—I did not notice any maker's name on them—I said "My customer will not deal with you, but if they are taken back where they came from my customer will buy them on my valuation; he won't buy them here"—he promised to let me know later on in the day where they could be seen.
JOHN HAY . I am manager of my brother's business, the Devon Arms, Morning Lane, Hackney—I never saw either of the prisoners till Hancock called on me on February 14th—he said "You advertised for a piano?"—I said "My brother did; he is just building a new concert room in Brick Lane"—he said "I have one for sale"—I said "What price is it?"—he said "10l.; will you come and look at it?—I said "I don't know you; I shall want some references as to your respectability, as you might have got it on hire"—he asked if I knew several people, and mentioned Mr. How—I said—No"—he said "He knows you; do you know Mr. Byoley, the solicitor?"—I said Yes, if you fetch him, and he refers to your respectability, I will look at the piano, not before," and about half an hour afterwards he came back with Mr. Byoley's clerk, who said "I have known this young man many years, and his father before him; he is a respectable man, and you may do business with him"—after that I went with How to his private house, looked at the piano, and asked him where he obtained it—he said "I bought it of Davis and Co., of Colbon Row; I have had it three years, and my wife has the receipt"—I asked him what business he was—he said "I am a bicycle manufacturer," and took me to his factory in a railway arch where he had a bench and tools and several bicyoles, two made up, and 30 or 40 wheels all round the place—I said "These are new machines"—he said "I have a chance of buying them; a man I know had an order for the machines, but when he went to deliver them he wanted him to take a bill for them, and if I can get another 10l. besides selling the piano I can buy them"—I said "You can have 10l. if you like, if you give me security"—he said that he had had to pay his father's funeral expenses, and was back in his rent, and wanted to sell the piano to pay his rent—he said "My father's illness has put me back a good deal in my position"—I went and got my brother-in-law to
go and see the piano, which he did, and agreed to buy it for 10l. and I lent another 10l. on the bicycles on condition that they were delivered at the same time by the same van by my greengrocer—I wrote out this receipt "Received of George Hay 20l. 10l. for purchase of piano, the other 10l. being a loan for two weeks on four bicycles, to be returned within two weeks or forfeited to Thomas Hancock"—that is not the one signed; I gave that to the cellarman, Bingle, with instructions—Hay, Jones, and Hancock wanted to know at what time they could have the goods—I went to the greengrocer, and found that I could have a van at 2 o'clock, but it did not come till 3 o'clock, when Jones, Bingle, and Hancock got into it, and I handed a note to Mr. Evans for him to collect some money—on the Tuesday evening Hay came and asked me to let him have 2l. or 3l.—I said "No, business is business; when the bargain is concluded you can have your money"—he said "I can't give you the piano for security; I will fetch a bicycle, "which he did, and brought it through the bar, and took it upstairs into my bedroom, and I let him have 2l.; I was also to give him 10s. for selling the piano to my brother, and 10s. to the gentleman who advanced the money on the bicycles, making 3l.—I was to advance 7l. more, 17l. altogether making it 20l. when Bingle left I went home to fetch the 10l. cheque from Mr. Evans, which he handed over—the bicycles and pianos were not delivered to me—I never saw them—they went straight to my brother—I saw Hancock again on the Tuesday, between 5 and 6 p.m.; he said "I want to speak to you very particularly"—I said "Very well, walk into the parlour"—he did so, and said "Look at this, "showing me a newspaper—I looked at it, and saw "Robbery of bicycles"—I said "What does it mean?"—he said "I believe by the description of the machines, being called 'Juno,' these are the very machines which you have got"—I said "What!"—he said "What are you going to do in the matter?"—I said "You will see," and sent for the police—he offered to go with me to the police, but I said "No"—he stopped till the police came, and said "Is there any chance of stopping Mr. Evans's cheque?"—I said "No, it is too late; they are sure to have got the money for it"—the police came, and I said "This is the man I received the bicycles of," and we all three went to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. HOW came on the Thursday morning with Jones, rubbing his hands, and said "It is the first and the last transaction I will ever have with him," alluding to Hancock keeping him waiting for the money.,
Re-examined I have said before that How said it was the first and last transaction, but not that he rubbed his hands—I did not say it to the Alderman; the Clerk was in a hurry to go, it being Saturday, and he said "Never mind that," but the Alderman said that my conduct was very commendable.
WILLIAM JAMES BINGLE . I am manager to Charles Hay, of the Devon Arms, Morning Lane, Hackney—on Thursday, 16th February, John Hay handed me 7l. in money, with instructions, and I hired a van, and went to Junction Place, Amherst Road, Hackney, a boot shop, and a piano and three bicycles were taken from that house and put in the van, but I had nothing to do with removing them—the two prisoners were there, and a man who I now know to be How—we drove to Mansford Street, Hackney Road, and called on Mr. Evans, who gave me a cheque for 10l.
—we then all went to the Red Cross, Ayre Street, Bethnal Green, kept by Mr. George Hay; the van was unloaded, and the piano and three bicycles were left there—I handed Mr. Evans's cheque to Hancock, and the 7l. in money, and he signed this receipt—I left the prisoners and went away with the van.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. Jones was present—I did not see him go and get the cheque changed; I do not know that he touched it—Hancock does not keep the boot shop; he lives on the first floor as far as I know, and the piano was taken from the first floor—I have seen How and Jones in the Devon Arms—they have come in and made inquiries for Hancock—I saw them there on Monday night, the 15th.
GEORGE EVANS . I am a cabinet-maker, of 68, Mansford Street, Hackney Road—on Thursday, 16th February, Bingle came to me, and from what he said I gave him a cheque on the Central Bank, Shoreditch branch, payable to Hancock, which I have got at home—next day two men came, believe Jones is one; the other is Edmunds, who is outside—the man who I believe to be Jones said that the cheque was endorsed wrongfully, and asked me to give him another—I gave him another for 10l. in the name of Hancock—they came back later on, and wanted me to make it out in the name of Street instead of Hancock—I refused, but my daughter went into the street and cashed it, and I gave the proceeds to Edmunds—he said "It does not belong to me," and I gave it to Jones.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. Edmunds said that he had advanced Jones 4l. on the cheque.
THOMAS EDMUNDS . I am a hairdresser, of 82, Britannia Street, Hoxton—on Friday, 17th February, I went with Jones to Mr. Evans's, and got a cheque from him in the place of one which Jones had with him, and then Jones went back and wanted it changed for a third, because it was wrongly drawn—it was the wrong payee—he said that he could not find Harcourt, and therefore asked Mr. Evans to make it payable to himself.
SAMUEL BACON (City Detective). On 16th February I went with Leeman and Wingrave to Amherst Road, Hackney—Wingrave pointed out Railway Arch 449, and 15, Junction Place, three doors from the arch; the lower part of the premises is occupied as a boot shop—I' watched the railway arch next day, Friday, and about 3 p. m. I saw a man unlock the door and go in; I at once went in with Mr. Wood, and saw a number of old machines and parts of machines, likewise two bicycles covered with canvas wrappers, which Mr. Wood identified, one of which is now produced.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. Those were the only ones identified by Mr. Wood.
WILLIAM SAVAGE (City Policeman 898). On Friday, 17th February, I kept observation on Hancock's house, 15, Junction Place, Amherst Road, Hackney, from 7. 30 a.m. to 5 p. m.—about 5 p. m. I saw the prisoner Jones going towards the house, and Hancock's wife, who had just spoken to me, beckoned to him to go towards her, and they both went into the doorway at the side of the arch, which has a passage round the back of the shop; Jones came out in a minute or so, and hurried away in the opposite direction to where I was standing—I followed him through several streets into Dalston Lane, where I stopped him and said "You will have to go back with me; I am a police officer; I am going to take,
you in custody on suspicion of stealing bicycles"—he said "Let me go, I have done nothing"—he became very violent; I got assistance, and conveyed him to the arches, and round to Mrs. Hancock, and Leeman questioned her in Jones's presence—I then took him to the station—he was charged and made no reply—next morning, going to the Justice Room, he said "Hancock knows all about it, he gave me the key to go into the place, and told me it would not do for him to go anywhere near the place, as he is well known; that he got a loan of 10l. on the four bicycles—I had 5l. and Hancock the other 5l."—Hancock was close behind at the time, but I cannot say that he could hear.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. It is 20 or 30 yards from the arch to Hancock's door, and I was watching about 50 yards from Hancock's house—Mrs. Hancock spoke to me; she had been out somewhere, and as she left me she went straight up to the arch and beckoned to Jones—that was the first time I saw Jones.
ROBERT LEEMAN (City Detective), On 17th February, about 5 p.m., I was with Hunt at the archway—Savage brought Jones there, and I said "You answer the description of a man who stole six bicycles last Tuesday, from 75, Bishopsgate Street Without, and I shall charge you with that offence"—he said "I know nothing about it"—he was then taken to a boot shop, 15, Jerusalem Place, where Hancock lives; I knocked at the door, Mrs. Hancock answered it; I knew her, and said "So you know this man?" Jones—she hesitated, I repeated the question, and she said "Yes, I do, he called to see my husband this morning"—Hunt said "Is not this the man that you gave the keys of the arch to, on Tuesday morning, to put some things in?"—she again hesitated—Hunt repeated the question, and she said "Yes, he is"—Savage and Hunt took Jones to the station, and I took the bicycles—I afterwards went with Hunt to Hackney Police-station, and while I was there Sergeant Barnes brought Hancock in; I shook hands with him, having known him a number of years—I pointed to Hunt, and said "This is another officer, you must consider yourself in custody for being concerned in stealing and receiving six bicycles on the 14th instant, two of which were found in your arch in the Amherst Road"—I then cautioned him again as to anything he might say—he said. "I was introduced by a man named How to a man named Skinner, who said he had the machines for sale"—I said "Will you give me the description of Skinner?"—he did so—I said "That is the man we have in custody, he has given the name of Jones, we have the two machines and him at Bishopsgate Station"—Hay then produced the receipt—Hancock said that he had one of the machines at his house—I searched Hancock, left him at Hackney Station, and went with Hay and Hunt to the Devon Arms, and brought away a bicycle which has been identified—I then went to Bishopsgate Station, where Hancock was confronted with Jones, and said "That is the man I know as Skinner"—Jones made no reply, and they were both charged—I found on Jones 5l. 2s. 6d., a pocket book, and a metal chain—I had already searched Hancock at the other station, and found 9s. 8d. and three keys, one of which is a padlock key which opened the railway arch 449.
ALFRED BARNES (Police Sergeant J. R. 4). On Friday evening, 17th February, I received a note, in consequence of which I went to the Deven Arms about 6. 30 p.m., where I saw Hay and Hancock—Hay said to me "Ihave something to tell you respecting the burglary; a few days ago I
bought a piano of Hancock for 10l., and after that he showed me some bicycles, and asked me if I would lend him a loan on two or three; I said yes, provided I hold them as security, I agreed to lend him 10l. on three; later in the day he came to me and asked me to lend him 2l. on one, I said 'Yes, bring it round,' which he did; the following day, Thursday, I sent the van by the potman, with some money, to remove the piano and bicycles to my brother's house in Bethnal Green; this afternoon Hancock came to me and said 'Do you know that them bicycles have been stolen,' and showed me a paper and asked me if I could cash the cheque, I said 'No, it is too late, I have one of the machines upstairs; get a cab and take it away, for God's sake, I will pay the cab fare'"—I asked Hancock to come to the station with me—on the way to the station he said "It is How and Skinner that has done this for me;. they came to me on Monday, and How asked me if I could do With half a dozen bicycles; I said 'No, trade is too bad;' the following day they brought the bicycles during my absence, and put them in the workshop, my wife gave them the key; later in the day they came to me and How asked me 36l. on them; I said I had not got 36l. but knowing him and that he had been in the trade and had things to dispose of at times, I would assist him if I could, and we all went together to Mr. Triggs, of Stoke Newington, thinking he might take one or two; how offered them to me and received the money; Skinner is the man."
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I knew Hancock before—he had not been to the station before—I left the station at 6. 30 and went to Bishopsgate Station and informed the City officers, and on my return Hancock came into the station with Hay—he had been allowed to leave.
Hancock received a good character, but Detective Leeman stated that he had known him about ten years, and up to the last three years as a respectable man, since when he had been going to the bad.
Jones's Defence. Mr. Hancock offered to give me 20l. on the bicycles, and gave me a key to enter the premises; I was out of work, and he said he could put something in my way, and said "Take the key down and bring the bicycles up"—when the carman saw me go round the corner Mr. Hancock was there to receive them—I said to the carman "You had better go and take them"—I went to Mrs. Hancock and asked her to give me the key—if I was guilty I would acknowledge it.
GUILTY . Jones then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on 19th February, 1883, in the name of George Skinner, and he was out on ticket of leave. JONES**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. HANCOCK— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, March 20th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and BODKIN Prosecuted,
JOHN THORLEY (Detective H). On the night of 29th February a woman was arrested and charged with uttering a counterfeit coin—she gave an address, in consequence of which I went about 6 o'clock to 7, Dakin
Street, Limehouse Fields—the prisoner opened the door—I said "Is your name Smith?"—he said "No—I said "There is a woman charged at Arbour Square with uttering counterfeit coin in the name of Smith, and she has given an address at this house"—he said "Yes, it is my wife"—I said "How do you account for your name not being Smith?"—he said "I have reasons for it"—I said "How do you account for your wife having the counterfeit money in her possession?"—he said "All I know is that last night I was in Aldgate, and I carried a portmanteau for a gentleman; he gave me nine penny pieces and 3d., making 1s. in all, and I gave her four out of that"—I said "Have you any more money about you?"—he said "No, I have not"—I said "I shall have to search your place"—we went into the front room ground floor, which he said was the room he occupied—in. the cupboard on the left hand side of the fireplace I found this punch secreted in the corner near the fireplace, this flat iron without a handle, and this tin, with some pieces of lead, with impressions of pennies on them, and cuttings of copper—on the top of the cupboard, behind some dishes, in a lot of newspaper I found a piece of sheet tin and also a piece of sheet copper—also on the top of the cupboard I found three files, a soldering iron, a pair of metal shears, a tin with some solder, and a pot with spirits of salts and acid for soldering; some is left—I judge it is spirits of salts, and the prisoner said it was—I found the tin containing solder, two discs of tin just the size of a penny; they fit the punch—they have apparently been cut out with the punch—I said to the prisoner "I shall take you into custody for having these things in your possession for the purpose of making counterfeit coin"—he said "I should have thought it would have taken something better than that to have made it with"—I asked him what he had the implements for, and he said "I have been out of work for some weeks, and I got them for the purpose of doing odd jobs for the neighbours"—on the following day, after the remand, I went again to the room about 1 o'clock—I got hold of a stick and raked away at the chimney, and brought down a great quantity of soot and some brickwork, and amongst it were pieces of copper with impressions of pennies on it—the copper was of the same thickness and kind as that which I had found before—I noticed then about a dozen circular marks burnt on the floor by the side of the fireplace of the size of a penny.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have had a little experience amongst coiners, not much—I can't say I have ever known such rubbish as this used by coiners, but I have never come into connection with copper coining before—I have never seen such things as these in a working man's house before—I never saw a soldering iron of this description before in a working man's house—if I had found these in your house, whether your wife had been charged with uttering, or any other offence, I should have called these coining tools and taken you into custody for having them—you had ample time to destroy everything between the arrest of your wife and my coming to the premises—it was 12 or 1 when she was arrested, and about 6 when I came—when I got to the house there was a large fire burning, with a blue flame—I mentioned that to you, and you said you were burning old boots—I examined the ashes; there was nothing burnt—I saw bluish liquid in a teacup, and I asked you if it was acid—I did not take it away because I did not consider it was acid—I have used those kind of things; I can tell acid by the smell—I saw something resembling
soda on the sideboard—I did not ask you if that was not soda; it was ammonia—I saw a book of gold leaf—I did not bring that away because I did not consider it necessary; it would not be useful for coining—I asked you what you had it for—I did not see a hammer—I did not search the chimney thoroughly on the first occasion; you had too large a fire—I looked up as far as I could and felt just round the edge—I searched the place in your presence, and after I took you to the station I came back, not to search, but to bring this flat iron to the station—the landlady came in the room with me then—I came to the room the third time on the next morning; the landlady was present then—I only searched the chimney then—she saw me hook this out—your place was impoverished—I found pawntickets for amounts from 4d. up to 1s. 6d. or 2s.—I did not see anything pawnable in the room—I consider this punch could be used with a heavy wooden mallet, of possibly 4 lb. weight, not a very heavy one—I think a person partly paralysed could hold the punch with one hand and strike a sufficiently heavy blow with a 4 lb. mallet—my impression it this punch has been used with a wooden mallet; it is rather blunt now, but it has been fit to cut anything—you gave no explanation about the lead—you did not say you bought it to make solder, that being cheaper than buying it—these counterfeit pennies are composed of tin inside and very thin copper outside.
Re-examined I can't say what sort of blue fire it was I saw burning; metal or brimstone will cause blue fire—it looked like something unusual—I never knew an old boot produce a blue flame—I found some blue liquid also in a cup—it might have been a little bluestone put into water.
ISAAC THOMPSON (Policeman H 425). I took a woman into custody on the afternoon of 29th February for uttering a counterfeit penny—she was charged by Mr. Standish, a greengrocer, who at the time handed me these counterfeit pence—the woman handed me these two other counterfeit pence—I took her to Arbour Street Station, and she there gave the address, 7, Dakin Street, Limehouse Fields—(Agnes Smith was here put into the dock)—that is the woman.
FREDERICK STANDISH . I live at 2, Maroon Street, Limehouse, and am a greengrocer—on 29th February I gave that woman into custody for uttering some counterfeit pence, handing two pennies and a halfpenny to Thompson which I had received from the same woman on the 29th and the day before—I first noticed it was counterfeit on the 28th—I was twisting it round between my finger and thumb, and my nail caught in it, and then I took a piece out of the side with my penknife.
ESTHER JOHNSON . I live at 7, Dakin Street, Limehouse Fields—I am the landlady of that house—I let the front parlour to the prisoners wife on 18th July, and from that time up to the time they were taken into custody he and his wife occupied it—I occupied two rooms above them—the only sign of any business being carried on there that I heard was knocking, like hammering; whether it was on the walls or where I could not say—it was at all times, up to late at night—I never saw the prisoner at work there; I never went into their room—the door was never opened, so I could never see inside—Mrs. Smith used to pay the rent; she would bring it up to me—she owes me 15s.
Cross-examined by Your wife took in washing—she nursed me in my confinement, and so paid off some of the rent—I never saw any tools
in your possession—you mended my teapot; I did not pay for that—you used to pay the rent—your wife has often borrowed a few eggs of me and has given me two halfpence for a penny.
By the JURY. The prisoner went out to jobs at wool sales—I never saw him take in any things to repair for neighbours—Mrs. Smith told me he had been paralysed by working in the lead factory—I knew them in the name of Ogin.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—I have seen these articles and these five counterfeit pence—the pence are made in a very primitive way—first of all he cuts out two discs of copper with this punch, and then a good penny is put underneath it, and by rubbing with a piece of wood or something harder, an impression is taken of the top and bottom of the penny—the copper would be heated previously, I should say, to make it softer and take a better impression—then a circular disc of tin is put between the discs of copper, and they are soldered together—the punch could be used for the purpose of cutting out these discs of metal—it is near enough to the size—the impression would be somewhat larger—the counterfeit penny is slightly larger, I think, than a good penny—the blue liquid found might have been some copper solution to bronze the copper, as sheetcopper is pure copper, and the bronze coin is 95 parts copper, 4 tin, and I zinc—these coins have been made with these implements—there is also a halfpenny here; he must have had a separate punch for that.
Cross-examined by The interior of these is composed of sheet-tin; I have seen some of it—the tin is not visible on the edge, because you have filed it down—it is done in a very careless way—the edge has been filed right round.
The prisoner in his defence said that as soon as he heard his wife was in custody he went to the police-court and tendered his evidence, and that he had plenty of time between 1 and 6 o'clock to make away with the things.
FREDERICK WILLIAM STANDISH repeated his former evidence. ISAAC THOMPSON (Policeman H 425). On 29th February Agnes Smith was given into my custody—these coins, 3 1/2 d., were given me by Mr. Standish at the same time—Mr. Standish asked her if she knew the penny was bad—she said no, she did not—he said to me "I took 2 1/2 d. from her last night, also bad"—she did not answer—I asked her if she knew the penny was pad—she said "No, I did not know it was bad"—I asked her if she had any more money in her possession—she said "Yes," and handed me these two pennies, which are of the same description and date as the others—I told her she would have to come to the station—she said nothing then—when she got to the station she said she did not know they were bad; she sold fusees in the street, and must have got them that way—in answer to the charge she repeated that she must have got them by selling matches in the street—she was searched; nothing else was found on her.
The evidence given by JOHN THORLEY and ESTHER JOHNSON in the former case was read to them by the shorthand writer, to which they assented, and ESTHER JOHNSON, further Cross-examined by William Smith, added: The constable
returned to the room after he had taken you to the police-station—he did not search the room—I was standing by the door—he took one or two things out of the cupboard—he searched up the chimney next day—I got no bad coin from the prisoners.
Agnes Smith's Statement before the Magistrate." I know nothing about it."
William Smith in his defence said the money his wife had he gave to her, and that whatever blame there was must rest on him.
GUILTY . Agnes Smith was recommended to mercy by the Jury, as she seemed to be in great poverty. WILLIAM SMITH— Five Years' Penal Servitude. AGNES SMITH— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH KENT . I live at 32, Marchmont Street, Russell Square, and am assistant to my sister, Amelia Kent, at a tobacconist's shop there—on the evening of 2nd March the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of peppermint, and gave me a bad sixpence—I said "Have you any more?"—he said "What did you say?"—I said "Have you any more?"—he said "No"—my sister came and shut the door of the shop, and asked him where he got it from—he said he had a halfpenny, and pulled a halfpenny out of his pocket—a constable was sent for, and when he came the prisoner was searched, and a purse containing 4 1/2 d. was found on him—he was taken to the station, where I went as well—shortly before he came in two other counterfeit sixpences had been uttered at our shop—I gave those two and the one which the prisoner had given me to the constable; these are they—the 2nd March was the first evening I had seen the prisoner—he was alone—I did not see anybody waiting outside the shop—when I went to the station there were a lot of people outside attracted by seeing the constable inside—I did not take the other sixpences from the prisoner.
WILLIAM PRESTON (Police Sergeant E 36). On 2nd March I was called to 32, Marchmont Street, where I found the prisoner detained by the two Miss Kents, one of whom gave the prisoner into custody for passing this bad sixpence—they gave me this, and two other sixpences—the prisoner said a gentleman gave the sixpence to him for holding his horse in White Cross Street outside a public-house, but he did not know the name of the public-house—I asked him the name of the public-house—he said "I don't know where it is situated"—he was searched in the shop, and I found on him a purse with 4d. in it, and a halfpenny in his pocket—he was taken to the station and charged.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "On Friday night I was going along with a barrow, and I met three chaps, who coaxed me to go into the shop with this sixpence; they made me go into the shop, saying if I would not they would kill me."
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY** †to a conviction of feloniously possessing counterfeit coin, in February, 1886.— Judgment respited.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, March 20th, 1888
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
394. ROBERT WALKER (26) to obtaining, by false pretences, from Daniel Gawn and others four travelling bags, having been convicted of felony at this Court in June, 1886.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for Parsons, and MR. HUTTON for Edwards.
JOHN WILLISON . I live at 93, Kelvin Road, Highbury Park—about 12. 40 p. m. on 8th March I was in Goswell Road—a man struck me on my face—I was surrounded by three others—I called "Police"—I heard a whistle blow, and immediately saw the prisoners—in a few seconds they ran into the policeman's arms—I lost my watch-chain—this is it; it hung in front—I had my overcoat over it—I had no watch.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I left business at 9 o'clock—I called at a public-house in Pentonville—I stayed there about three-quarters of an hour—I left about 12. 30—I had been in places I usually go and sit of an evening on my way home—I had dined in the City—the house in Pentonville was the last I called at—I sometimes stayed there in the evening—the whole thing happened in a few seconds—the spot where it happened was fairly well lighted—I had never seen any of the prisoners before to my knowledge—I overtook them—they were in front of me—I could not mistake them—Parsons knocked me down.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. There were other people in the street—the prisoners came from behind when I was knocked down.
GEORGE WOODWARD (Policeman G 214). I was in Goswell Road—I saw four men running, and heard the prosecutor shout "Police," and "Stop them, they have got my chain"—I ran after them, and caught Edwards—Policeman G 311 caught Davis—Edwards said "All right, you have made a mistake; I am a respectable man."
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. Edwards might have said "It was not me; I was not there"—I was coming up Goswell Road—the prisoners were at the corner of Hall Street—I was only a few yards off—I could see the robbery plainly—I saw one man on the ground, and others on the top of him—I ran up to them, and overtook them in about 10 yards—they all ran in the same direction.
WALTER HAMMOND (Policeman G 311). I was with Woodward—I saw the prosecutor on the ground, and five persons round him—four of them ran away—the prosecutor shouted "Stop, they have got my chain"—Policeman G 214 and I followed them, and caught two of the prisoners—the other two were caught by an un uniform man—the prosecutor identified the one that robbed him—at the station we found the chain on Davis, who was not identified.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I was on the opposite side of the way when the prosecutor was on the ground.
ARTHUR NORRISS (Policeman G 299). I was in Goswell Road when I heard a policeman's whistle and a cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the prisoners passing, and stopped Parsons and asked him what he was running for—he said "I have done nothing"—I held him till the prosecutor came up, and he identified him as one of the men who had knocked him down—I took him to the station and he was charged—he said "I have done nothing."
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I met the prisoners about 200 yards from the corner of Hall Street—Parsons was running in my direction—he did not say "I never did it "till he got to the station—he gave an address; I found he lived there, and that Edwards lodged in the same house—I am not aware of his character—we could not get the address of his former employers, so I could not make any inquiries—I saw the landlady and she refused it—she said she would make inquiries herself, and the witness would attend at the Court.
Davis in his defence said that he saw the chain on the pavement, and put it in his pocket; that he heard a cry for a constable, and one took him by the collar and took him to the station, but he was not guilty. Edwards received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended. MORTON COATES FISHER. I live at 45, Gerrard Street, Soho—about 12. 30 a. m. on 24th February I was returning home through Wardour Street to Gerrard Street—two women caught hold of my arms; I pushed them off—at the corner of Gerrard Street some young men surrounded me—the prisoner is one of them—they were standing by a public-house—they shoved me against the railings—I broke away, and they again surrounded me, and the prisoner snatched my chain and put his knee against me so as to set me against the railings of the house, and he tried to trip me up, and kicked my ankle, so that I was in bed the next day, and then snatched my chain—his accomplices were around him—I called "Police!"—the men dispersed and I followed the prisoner—on my chain was a gold locket, a gold tablet, and a wedding-ring—I complained to the police in Leicester Square—on Sunday, the 26th, I went to Vine Street and identified the prisoner from five or six others—I looked at another man for a moment who resembled him, but I have no doubt the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. More than five men surrounded me—I did not see that the prisoner had a black eye—I wore glasses—the men hustled me.
SAMUEL JAMES FAIRWEATHER . I live at Rupert Court, Wardour Street, and am a stable-man—about 12. 30 on 24th February I was standing outside the Oporto Stores, between Gerrard Street and Wardour Street, and I saw Fisher coming down Wardour Street, and he was stopped by two women—he got away from them and he was then surrounded
by the prisoner and others; they hustled him—they made their way out of Gerrard Street followed by Fisher—I did not see the actual robbery—I had previously seen the prisoner at a public-house at the corner of Gerrard Street.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I did not notice whether Dudley had his arm in a sling.
GEORGE CHALK . I live at 1, Canvas Street, near Middlesex Hospital—I was standing at the corner of Gerrard Street on 24th February, and saw Fisher accosted by two women and several men—the prisoner is one of them—they hustled him—I saw them leave him—I am sure the prisoner was amongst those who hustled him.
THOMAS BOWDEN (Police Sergeant C). From information I received I arrested the prisoner on Saturday night, the 25th, from a description Fisher gave me—I said "Mike, I am a police-officer; I am going to take you into custody for stealing a watch and pendant yesterday morning, just about here, in Gerrard Street"—he replied "All right, sir; I will come with you"—that was in a public-house—he was taken to the station and placed with nine others, and Fisher identified him—when he was charged he made no answer, but while the charge was being taken he said "You are making it hot for me"—I said "I cannot help it; you hear what the gentleman has said"—he said, looking to Fisher, "Do you say I kicked you?"—he said "Yes, I do," and the prisoner said "I did not kick you"—I found nothing on him.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. What he said to the prosecutor was "I was there, but I did not kick him," and then "You are making it hot for me; you are charging me with highway robbery with violence"—he appeared to have had two black eyes, but they did not show much—he had not his arm in a sling.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY*† to a conviction of felony at Marlborough Street in March, 1887.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
ALBERT JAMES HANNAM . I am porter to Thomas Steer and Co., of 89, Steining Lane—on 10th March, about 12. 30 p.m., I was going out of my employer's office—I saw the prisoner crossing Lillipot Lane wheeling a perambulator—I recognised it as one belonging to Miss Ashton, and which had been left in our yard—I made inquiries, and then looked after the prisoner, and on 12th March I identified him from several others at Moor Lane Police-station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am sure it was half-past 12 and not 12—I was going to deliver some goods and then looked after you.
Re-examined I have no doubt the prisoner is the man I saw with the perambulator.
EMMA SHEPPARD . I am employed by Miss Ashton, of 69, Graham Road, Dalston—I take goods every morning to Messrs. Steer and Co.—on this Saturday morning I went there, and left my perambulator in the yard—about half-past 12 I missed it, and Hannam spoke to me.
Cross-examined by I am sure it was half-past 12 and not 12—I never said it was 12.
common lodging-house at Spitalfields and saw the prisoner—I took him to Moor Street Police-station, where he was placed with others and identified by Hannam—he made no reply to the charge.
GUILTY . — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 21st 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and LAWLESS defended Millings.
SMITH— GUILTY . — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MILLINGS— GUILTY *.— Two Years' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 21st, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BROXHOLM Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended Curtain; MR. GEOGHEGAN defended White and Briggs.
CHARLES GRINDON . I live at 27, Barnsbury Street, Islington, and am a seaman—between 1 and 2 o'clock on the early morning of 7th March I was in Upper Street, Islington, on my way home—I was stopped by a. female, and went with her to the Chamberlain Club, which is about 12 or 13 doors from where the Grand Theatre was—as soon as the door was opened I ran in—when I got into the passage several men were there—one of them said "We know this gentleman; he has been here before 'I—I saw the proprietor White behind the bar serving; he could hear all that was said—I saw Briggs in the small room—the first thing they said after the door was shut was "This is better; there is more room here"—one man, not one of the prisoners, said that—drinks were called for—White served and stood at the end of the bar nearest the little room, close to where we were, waiting for payment, I suppose—Briggs was in the room, and everybody's backs were to the counter except myself—they were talking about chest measurement—I buttoned up my coat tight and moved towards the door, with the intention of opening it—the man not in custody put his back against the door to prevent my doing so—they shoved me back into the middle of the room again—one man took my right arm and Curtain my left, and raised them above my head—I with a loud voice said "What can I do? what can I do but stand here and be robbed? let me out"—White was at this time standing at the same end of the counter—I said "Open the door and let me out"—White turned
on his heel and walked to the other end of the bar—as soon as he turned his back my coat was forced open by a man who stood in front of me—by the time White had got to the end of the bar two men were tugging one at my chain and one at my watch; between them they broke the chain—Curtain was in the room on my right then; he was not holding up my hands then—as soon as they got my watch and chain they dropped my arms—they broke my chain by pulling it—I said in a loud voice "Oh, don't; my father's chain; don't take that; if you will give me my watch and chain back I will give you 5l."—then some man not in custody said "All right, old man; give" or "show us 5l. "Iforget which," and you shall have your watch and chain"—at that time one man had the watch in his hand and another man had the chain, which they had broken—the watch was broken from the bar—I said "I cannot" or "Iwon't give you the money now; you come up to my rooms, and then I will give you 5l."—then Curtain immediately came round to my left side, took my left hand, and the other man took my right hand, and raised them up, and a man not in custody rifled my pockets of the money—I had in my upper waistcoat pockets a 5l. note and 4l. 18s. in gold and silver—that was taken from me—they had not discovered that pocket before, but when I spoke about giving them 5l. they immediately seized me again and found it—I lost nothing else except a bronze medal—then they let go of me, and one man wanted me to have a drink; I would not have anything—I left very shortly afterwards—as I was going out of the club I said "All right; I know the house; you will hear of it again"—I have not seen my watch and chain since—the value of it is about 10l.—I should say, when I got outside, I made a communication to the first policeman I saw; that was a good distance up Upper Street—I did not go to the police-station that night, but next morning I did about 8 a. m.—I made a complaint there; nothing was done till the evening, when I went to the club again with two constables, Cummings and Simpkins, at about 8 o'clock—we went in the small room where I was robbed—I could not say where Briggs was when I was robbed; I saw him one or one and a half minutes before—we were served at the small counter—at the time I wanted to get out Briggs was near the lobby door, on my right, standing, facing me sideways—I was facing the door and he was facing the partition; he had not got his back to the door—he was in the room about 2 feet from me, I should think—when I went in with the constables the next evening White was there behind the bar—the constables asked White some questions; how many members there were and such questions—while we were talking Curtain and another man, if not two others, came in—Curtain came up to the counter, did not speak a word or order anything, but left suddenly very shortly after he came in, having waited a minute perhaps—Cummings said "Come on," and went out—I followed them out, and then recognised Curtain in the street, and gave him into custody—we went to the station, where Curtain was charged—he made no answer—the policemen were in plain clothes—Briggs and White came down next day to give evidence at the police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. My rooms are about 20 minutes from this club—I left my room about 11 o'clock I suppose—I went home and had tea at 6, and had been at home four or five hours, I should say, before I went out at 11—I had been to the docks that day—I had been paid off some time—I was merely looking out for a ship—I called in two
public-houses that day, and stopped two minutes in each I should say, time to get a glass of ale—nobody came home with me at 6—I only had tea at home—at 11 I went down Upper Street as far as the Angel for a walk; I called in nowhere—I went to the club about 12—I was walking about till nearly 12 by myself the whole time—a little before 12 I called in at a public house in Upper Street, where I remained ten minutes I should say—I met two strangers there, I asked them to have a drink, they would not, but said "Come down to our club and you can have something there"—I did not talk about my voyages, or say I was a seafaring man, I made one or two remarks—then I went to the club and had two glasses of ale, White served me—I had nothing stronger—I was there about three quarters of an hour—I noticed Briggs at the outer hall door then—the only refreshment I had during the three quarters of an hour was two or it might be three glasses of ale; I ordered nothing to be put in the ale, it might have been—when I came out I was going home; the public-houses were closed—I met a lady in Upper Street, by Collins's Music Hall, and had a conversation with her—I had never seen her before—we had about ten minutes' walk; we walked straight to the club, she took me to the club—she said she knew where she could get a drink—I went with her to the door of the club; she rapped at the door, and when the door was opened she was not allowed in, and I ran in because they would not allow her in, and I thought perhaps they would not allow me—when I went in the second time I had had a little to drink—there were 25 or 30 people there I should think—the men who surrounded me were all strangers to me—I was in there about a quarter of an hour—I had not looked at my watch since I went in the club the first time; that was before I met the lady—I looked at the 5l. in my pocket before I met the lady, when I went in the club the first time—I looked at it when I changed the other 5l. in the public-house with the strangers—there were no ladies in the public-house—I changed one 5l.note and put the other back with the change in the top pocket—I never looked at my money after that till I got to the club later on—I met a policeman afterwards, he did not go back with me to the club—I made a complaint to him, and pointed in the direction where this had happened—he said "You must nave had a lot of money on you"—a child called him away to go somewhere—I mentioned the wrong club to him, I mentioned the Wellington—I went straight home—next day I went to the club about 8 p. m.—I don't think there was anyone in front of the bar then—Curtain came in and after a little while went out—I almost immediately followed him out, and saw him in a little narrow street towards Islington Green—the policeman went up to him first, I said "That is one of them."
By the JURY. My coat was not buttoned up when I went into the club—anybody could see I had got a watch.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. My morning coat was unbuttoned when I was walking with the lady in Upper Street—I had no overcoat on—my chain was showing—I have not lived in Islington before—I was three weeks in Barnsbury Street—I knew the neighbourhood pretty well; I don't know the names of the streets—on the first examination before the Magistrates I saw White and Briggs outside the police-court—I knew they were invited to come and give evidence, and they did come—I gave them into custody afterwards on the suggestion of the Magistrate
—I said to the constable I thought White did not take part in the robbery, he did not actually do it—I said Briggs was in the room while the robbery took place—I did not say Briggs did not see the robbery being committed, nor that I did not think he saw it—I swear he saw it committed—I swear he was in the room, I cannot swear he saw it—he was in the small room, I won't swear he saw it—I cannot say Briggs ever put a finger on me—White never touched me—neither Briggs nor White touched me—the counter was between me and White—there was some boasting about chest measurement, as to who was 42 inches round the chest; some said they were 38 and 40, and some said they were not—I did not allow my chest to be measured—the moment it was proposed I moved towards the door, and I would not let them—they attempted to measure me; they tried to undo my coat; I buttoned it up immediately—when the men proposed measuring me at one end of the bar, the prisoner White turned on his heel and walked to the farther end of the bar, some yards away—he was at the opposite end of the bar at the actual time of the robbery—I was standing in the centre of the room when I was robbed—I said White must have seen it—I swear he must have seen all that was going on—I was a little the worse for drink—I said it was the Wellington Club because it was a strange club to me, and I had forgotten the name—I knew a club in Northampton of that name, and it came into my head—the police-station in Upper Street is 15 minutes' walk from this club—I knew I had left the men who stole my watch and money behind in the club—I did not go into the police-station on my way home and ask the inspector to send a man round with me, because I did not notice the police-station; I saw it afterwards—I did not know it when I went to the club, I remembered it next morning—I said at the police-court White did not actually rob me, he was not one of the men that held me—I did not say I did not think he had anything to do with the robbery.
Re-examined I did not know that evening where the police-station was, I did not see it till next day.
By the COURT. I said I did not think White had anything to do with the robbery; he had not anything actually to do with it.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I was close to him; there was only the bar between us when I went with the two detectives to the club on the night following—White did not move to the other end of the bar until after I said "What can I do but stand here and be robbed?"—Briggs was standing close to me at the time—I saw him there when I was prevented going out of the room about two minutes before the robbery—I did not notice where he was at the time I called out.
By MR. BROXHOLM. I saw Curtain put the handkerchief round one man, pretending to measure him, and he also put it round himself—I am perfectly certain I had the watch when I went in—I applied to White for protection; I looked at him.
By the JURY. I called out loudly—I applied generally to be let out—White was within hearing—I went away without making any formal complaint to any one in authority—a policeman did not come with me; I did not ask him—a child came for him, and he went with her—I did not think it necessary to go farther to get another policeman—I did not consider it my duty to take further steps to recover my property—it was 20 minutes since I had left the club, and I knew the men had gone—I went
to the station the first thing in the morning—I thought that would be in time to report the case.
THOMAS CUMMINGS (Policeman G). On the evening of 7th March I went in plain clothes with the prosecutor and Simpkins to the Chamberlain Club—I saw White behind the bar in the small room—the prosecutor was on my right—I said "Mr. White, this gentleman complains of having been robbed in this club early this morning, and of having lost his watch and chain, a 5l. note, 4l. 18s. in gold and silver, and a medal"—he said "That is strange; I did not see anything of it"—the prosecutor said "Yes, you must have seen something of it; you were behind the bar"—at that time Curtain with two others entered the club—White was still looking at me—I noticed him wave his right arm—he was looking me in the face at the time—when White made that signal the three men left immediately—I and the prosecutor and Simpkins followed the men out—a short distance lower down from the club I stopped Curtain—the prosecutor said "Yes, that is one of them"—I said to Curtain "You hear what this man says; you are one of the men that assisted in robbing him at the club this morning"—I then told him the nature of the charge—when the charge was read to him at the station he replied "All right, sir."
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I first saw the prosecutor shortly after 9 a.m.—I went to the club that morning, but I did not see White, and we went in the evening—when Curtain came in nobody was in the house besides myself, Simpkins, and the prosecutor—I and Simpkins were in plain clothes—White signalled to Curtain and the other two and they all three left—it was done so openly, I and the other officer could see it—I spoke to Curtain about 20 yards from the club—I took him by the arm—the prosecutor said at once "That is one of them"—I said "You hear what this man said, that you are the one that held his arm and assisted in robbing him"—he said nothing, I am quite certain—the other officer was close by—he could hear everything that took place I should say—he said "All right" at the station—he said nothing before he got there.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I asked White to come to the station next day, as he might be wanted to give evidence—I did not see Briggs—I had no intention then of charging him—Mr. Barstow was the Magistrate—I cannot say if he suggested that he should be taken into custody; I did not hear him—Sewell took him into custody—I was in Court while the case was being heard—as far as I know it was not Mr. Barstow's suggestion—Sewell signed the charge-sheet—the prosecutor said White must have known something about it—when I and Simpkins and the prosecutor went in we were in the small room—I was the only one in conversation with him—the others were quite close to him—the prosecutor was a little on my right; the other constable was just behind me; it is a very small place—I and the prosecutor were facing White at the bar—we were all looking one way—the prosecutor was within two feet of White—White moved his right arm, and the men immediately left the house—they entered, and then went out—White said he knew nothing about this matter—Curtain and the other two men came through the lobby into the long bar here; it is all one bar; it is a very small club indeed.
Cummings to the Chamberlain Club—we entered the club with the prosecutor, and went into the small compartment, and we called Mr. White from the other end of the counter—Cummings said "This gentleman complains of being robbed in the club last evening"—White said it must be a mistake, as he had never seen him before—three men then entered the club, Curtain being one of them—they came into the large compartment—White leant over, put his arm through the flap round the corner, and waved to the men to go out—the three men immediately left—we immediately left the club with the prosecutor, and walked up High Street and stopped Curtain—the prosecutor said "I charge this man with robbing me of my watch and chain and money in the club"—Cummings took hold of one arm, I took hold of the other—Curtain made no reply—we took him to the station—he was charged and said "All right"—I apprehended Briggs on the following morning when he came to the police-court—I told him the charge—he said "I know nothing at all about this; you know I could not do it"—he was taken into the charge room and charged.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When he came up to Curtain and told him the charge he said "He has made a mistake, I will go with you."
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I know White, he is a manufacturer of bookshelf edging, and deals in oilcloths, three doors from the club, which is his property—I have known him about ten years—I have been attached to the G division eleven years odd, and during the time I have been there I have known him as a respectable man as far as I know him—I have known Briggs about three years I should think, he is the doorkeeper; he is a respectable man too so far as I know him, I never saw him in any trouble—White when he moved his arm was standing in a leaning position facing us—he did not turn round; just turned his head, and his right arm came under the flap of the long counter—the flap was on his right hand side—I believe the prosecutor and constable and everybody could see him waving his hand—he said he never saw this man in his life—White said on the evening we went in there with the prosecutor he never saw the man before—I have not made a note of the conversation, it is the leader who has to take notes—I left it to Sewell to take a note—I did not take a note because Sewell is in charge of this case—Sewell was not present on this occasion, he was on another, he made a note when he made the inquiry after that—White and I had no conversation; he had the conversation with Cummings, and it was Cummings's duty to report it, and not mine—I did not hear anything else than "It is very strange, I never saw anything of it"—I know White did say he never saw the prosecutor—I did not mention that at the Court below because I was not asked—I should say that statement was in favour of White—I did not mention this in favour of White before, because in the police-court the evidence gets put in shorter—if I was sent to make inquiry I should report accurately the conversation that took place between the prisoner and the man who arrested him—I believe the prosecutor said to White he must have seen something of it; there was something to that effect—the word was "something."
By the JURY. When the club first started it was respectable, but it has turned out very rough lately, because the members get the roughs in one at a time in the evening and they overrule White and he cannot control
them—it has been open four or five years—when the Clarendon broke up the members came into this—members can take in friends; they take in a dozen sometimes, and the biggest thieves about the Angel get in there—this is a house we have had a great deal of trouble with.
ARTHUR SEWELL (Deteetive Sergeant G). At 10 o'clock on 7th March I went to the Chamberlain Club, where I saw White—I said to him "Will you give me the names and addresses of those persons who were in this small bar between 1 and 2 o'clock this morning?"—he said "I don't know who they were; there were six or seven of them"—I said, pointing to the prosecutor, "This young man states that he was robbed here"—I put it down—he said "I know nothing of it"—Grindon said "Oh, yes you do. I called to you 'Let me out! let me out!' You turned on your heel and went up to the other end of the bar; that was when they were measuring me"—White said "Yes, they were not robbing you then"—I then asked White to give me the names and address of any one who was in the house at that time—he gave me the name of William Galbraith, no address; Mr. Asfeldt, 19, Madeira Road; Mr. Briggs, 96, Cloudesley Road, and Mr. Fagan, Church Passage—he said "I could not see anything of it, as I was up at the other end of the bar at the time"—I asked him again to give me the name of any one who was in that small bar—he said he could not do so," they may not have been members"—I asked him if he knew a man named Curtain—he said "No"—I said "Then he is not a member?"—he said "No"—I went with the prosecutor and the last two witnesses—I arrested White on the following day after the evidence of the prosecutor before the Magistrate—I said to the prosecutor "Will you charge White now?"—he said yes, he would—he went outside the Court with me, and I saw White and Briggs standing together, and he said "That is another of them," pointing to Briggs, "and I will charge them both"—I arrested White, and said "This man," pointing to the prosecutor, "charges you with being concerned in that robbery"—White said "He cannot prove that I touched him or had anything to do with him"—they were taken into custody; Simpkins arrested Briggs.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. White brought me, of his own accord, a book of members—I took these names from it—I believe Mr. Galbraith takes the chair at one of the best debating societies in London, at the Peacock—I said to the prosecutor the previous night "Do you charge White with being concerned?"—he said "Not now; I would rather get hold of the people that got my property"—he did not decline to charge him—I said to White "You had better be at the Court tomorrow as the Magistrate may want to ask you questions"—he came, and after hearing the evidence of the prosecutor he was arrested—the Magistrate made an observation; it was not exactly in consequence of that that White was arrested, nor that the prosecutor charged him—he said "Now" after hearing the Magistrate's remark—I never saw White before in my life; he voluntarily came to the Court.
NOT GUILTY .
402. JAMES SMITH (23) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Pearce Reynolds 5l. and other sums from other persons, with intent to defraud, and attempting to obtain money from William George Newcombe by false pretences.
MR. GRAIN and MR. E. BEARD Prosecuted.
WILLIAM PEARCE REYNOLDS . I am the London manager of the London and Lancashire Fire Insurance Company, at their office, 74, King William Street—one of our directors at Liverpool is a Mr. Philip Blessig—on 14th November one of my officials made a communication to me, and the prisoner was brought into my private room—I said "I expected to see your father, "Mr. Philip Blessig being an elderly gentleman—that was in consequence of what the official had told me—the prisoner said "No, not my father, my uncle"—he told me he had just landed at Southampton from the West Coast of Africa—I expressed surprise at a ship from the West Coast of Africa going to Southampton—he said "I did not go to Liverpool where the ships generally come to; I had a passage given to me in a Government ship"—he said he had landed short of money, and wished particularly to get to Liverpool that night, and asked if I could make him an advance of 5l.—he told me various facts about my company and its past history—he told me what Mr. Philip Blessig's nephew might well know—in the result I advanced him 5l., for which he gave me an I O U signed "W. Blessig"—I saw him write and sign it—he said he would return the money next day on his arrival at Liverpool, and asked me not to put it in the Company's books—I have never received the 5l.—I believed the statements he made—his manner was most specious—he spoke very good English, with a foreign accent.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I feel sure you are the man that called on me, and I picked you out from seven or eight men at the Mansion House—I have no doubt you are the man.
PHILIP BLESSIG . I am one of the Directors at Liverpool of the London and Lancashire Fire Company—I know nothing of the prisoner; he is not my nephew, and is in no way related to me—I never authorised him to call on Mr. Reynolds.
WILLIAM GEORGE NEWCOMBE . I am superintendent of the foreign department of the Phoenix Fire Office in Lombard Street—on 9th February the prisoner called on me—this card, "James Paton," was sent in to my secretary, who said to me in the prisoner's presence that James Paton had called, stating he was the son of Ninnion Paton, of Stockholm, and wished me to inquire fully into the matter—I took the prisoner to my room and asked him many questions as to who he was—he said he was the son of Ninnion Paton, our agent at Stockholm; that he had been one winter in Corsica for the benefit of his health, and this winter he had been in Bournemouth; that he had just returned from there and wanted to proceed to Stockholm that night—he then suggested he wanted money—I thought it rather suspicious, and reminded him that Mr. Paton had ceased to be our agent for two years and nine months—he expressed surprise, and stated that he supposed his father had not told him of this in consequence of his serious illness—from further conversation I was not satisfied with what he said, and refused to lend him anything—he did not name any sum—I have not the least doubt the prisoner is the man.
ROBERT CHARLES TUCKER . I am secretary to the Pelican Life Assurance Company—on 10th February, about 3.30 p.m., this card "James Paton" was sent me, and then the prisoner came in and announced himself as Mr. James Paton, son of Mr. Ninnion Paton, of Stockholm, our agent—he has been our agent for many years—the prisoner said he had been
travelling for his health—he put himself into rather theatrical attitudes, putting his hands on his chest, and he said his last stay had been at Bournemouth, and feeling very ill he wanted to get home as soon as possible to his friends at Stockholm—I called our chief clerk in, and stated to him, in the prisoner's hearing, that the prisoner was said to be James Paton, the son of our agent at Stockholm, and perhaps it would be as well if they went to the Swedish Consul—the prisoner said what he should like to do would be to telegraph and get confirmation of his statement if I had any doubt, but he had already told me he was most anxious to leave that night, by way of Ostend I think—I suggested he should go with Mr. Clark of my office to the telegraph office as he wished to do so—on his return I was given to understand in his presence that supposing Mr. Paton had been at the other end to receive it, the time taken in sending the telegram and replying would prevent his getting off that night—I most certainly believed his story, and instructed Mr. Clark to let him have 5l. and take a receipt for it—this is the receipt he gave in the outer office—he said he was staying at the Midland Grand Hotel—what induced me to part with my money was substantially that he was the son of my agent—I would not run the risk of offending Mr. Paton on any account—about 15th February I went to the Northern Assurance Company, in Moorgate Street—as I was going upstairs I met the prisoner coming down—I expressed great surprise at seeing him there—he gave a shrug of his shoulders, and I suggested a reason—I asked him if his house in Stockholm did any fire business for the Northern Company, my office doing life business only—he replied "A little, not much"—I remarked it was very bitter weather for him to be out—he said he was advised to keep a day or two longer here—the very next afternoon I met him in Piccadilly, about 5.45 p.m.—I called a policeman and gave him in custody upon a charge of obtaining the 5l. from me—directly I laid hold of him he wanted to give me my 5l., and said if I would come inside Hatchett's Hotel he would explain matters to me; he said it was a mistake on my part—I went with him and the constable to the station, and formally made the charge there—he made a statement.
HENRY JOCELYN CLARK . I am chief clerk in the Pelican Office—on 10th February this card was brought in by one of the juniors—I heard the prisoner say he was James Paton, the son of Ninnion Paton—I was requested to go with the prisoner to the telegraph office—first of all he called at the telegraph office on Cornhill to know where to go to—I suggested going to the Consulate—he demurred to that, because he said all Englishmen abroad went to the Consulate to get home again, and if he applied to the Consulate for assistance to go home it would be known all over Stockholm before he got home, and as his family was known all over Stockholm he did not wish that—I went to the Northern Telegraph Office in St. Helen's Place—I was there informed in his presence that it would take from four to five hours to get a reply from Stockholm—it was then 3.45—he asked whether the office would be open all night—they said that it would at both the ends—I said "Will you telegraph?"—he said "No"—then he spoke for some time, I don't know whether in Swedish or Norwegian, and when he came away he said if he wanted to telegraph he could do so during the night, but he should not do so then—we went back to the office, and I went with him into Mr. Tucker's room, who told me to get the agent's list, and then Mr. Tucker put
various questions regarding the agency to the prisoner, and after the prisoner had answered them satisfactorily I was directed to give him 5l.—I wrote out the I. O. U., and saw him sign it "James Paton"—there is not the slightest doubt that the prisoner is the man.
ISABEL PATON . I am the sister of Mr. Ninnion Paton, who resides and carries on business in Stockholm—he has been agent to the Pelican Life Office for many years—he was married in 1875, and his wife died six weeks after—he has not been married since—he had no son—I am from Stockholm—there is no other Ninnion Paton there at present—I had an uncle Ninnion Paton many years ago; he is dead, and there has not been any other Ninnion Paton but my brother since 1856.
LOUIS ECHENARD . I am second manager at the Midland Grand Hotel, St. Pancras—on 10th February no person of the name of James Paton was Staying there—I keep an arrival book, in which the name of every person is entered—I have searched it; there is no such name entered there—I know no such person by sight—James Smith is not entered there.
AUGUSTUS HENDRIKS . I am the secretary of the London office of the London, Liverpool, and Globe Assurance Company—on 15th February, about 3 o'clock, the prisoner called on me and produced this card, "V. Svalander"—our agents in Gottenberg are Svalander and Nast—he said he was a partner in the firm of Svalander and Nast, our agents in Gottenberg, that he had been ill, and had been in bed for about four months at Gottenberg, and that the doctors had recommended him to go to Bournemouth, his lungs being very bad; that he had been there for some weeks, and that he was getting better, but the last few days the weather had so changed that he became very ill, and wished to get back to Gottenberg as soon as he could, that he had come up from Bourne mouth that day, and wished to return home by the night express, via Flushing—I said that he looked very ill, and asked whether he might not do better by remaining in London to rest for a few days—he said that he must get on at once; he was so ill that he thought he might die if he did not—he then said that he hoped I would assist him by advancing him 10l., as he had no money to get home—I told him that I had never seen him before, and asked whether he could give me any evidence of his being really our agent—I had an impression that I had seen Mr. Svalander some years before, but I was not quite sure, and I said he was an older man—he said that was his uncle, and that he himself was the junior partner—I then said we in London had very little correspondence with his firm, and he said "Yes, I know that; we correspond for 'Fire' with your head officie at Liverpool"—I said that was quite correct, that I would help him if I could, that I would wire to Liverpool, and asked whether he could be back again about 5 o'clock; this was 3.15—he said he would come back—he left and came back about 5 o'clock—meantime I had telegraphed to Liverpool, and had looked up our correspondence and accounts with Svalander and Nast, so as to compare his writing—the letters were in my hand—the prisoner said he had never written any of the letters or signed them, that he attended to other business, their wine business—I told him I had a document before me, and that it was a loan for a Mr. Svalander on security of a life policy, and I noticed the name of the witness to the signature, who had put his name and signed himself "Bookkeeper to the firm"—he was sitting opposite to me and may have seen it—I asked him who was the bookkeeper—he said they were a very large firm and had several—I said "Will you name them?"—he gave me a name I did not
recognise—I said "Will you name another?"—he said it must be Borgstrom; that was the name on the paper—I said "Surely you have some letters addressed to you"—he said he had many letters—I said "Have you any in your pocket?"—he said "No," but he produced another card similar to the one he had given me before, and said that he had only a small leather bag with him at the Midland Hotel, and the letters were in a large trunk, which was being sent to him from Bourne mouth in time for him to catch the night train, and that in that trunk were many letters—I had further conversation with him, and thought he was the man he said he was—I suggested his remaining a little longer—I again suggested that he should remain and wire to his friends in Gottenberg—he again repeated how ill he was, and he looked very ill certainly, and said if he did not get back he should never get back—I believed all his statements, and lent him 10l.—he wrote this in my presence. (This was a receipt from the London, Liverpool, and Globe Company of the "somme "of 10l., which would be repaid by V. Svalander, of Svalander and Nast.) Before he wrote "Svalander and Nast" he handed it to me with the signature V. Svalander, and I said "This is not altogether a personal matter; it is for the firm"—he said "Oh, yes, I will append the signa ture of the firm," and then he wrote the firm's signature—when he got the money he said he would leave that evening, and would write the moment he got to Gottenberg—I saw no more of him till I saw him at the Mansion House—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined by The receipt was not in the writing I had been accustomed to see, but you explained that you were the junior partner, and had not signed the letters to me.
FRANZ OFERBURG . I am manager to Messrs. Clark and Co., of Crosby Square, Bishopsgate—I have known Mr. Svalander for 25 years, and have been in correspondence with him and the firm—this is not the signature of any member of the firm—Mr. Svalander and Mr. Nast are the only partners in the firm—I know nothing of this writing as coming from that firm—I never saw or heard of the prisoner before, and know nothing of him.
MORITZ HAGBORG . I am clerk to Messrs. Klingsborg, of 35, Queen Victoria Street—our firm has considerable correspondence with Messrs. Svalander and Nast—I have known Mr. Svalander personally for 15 or 20 years—there are no more than the two gentlemen, Svalander and Nast, in that firm—I know nothing of the prisoner.
JOHN FREDERICK OSTLER . I am luggage clerk at the Midland Hotel, St. Pancras—all luggage coming there has to be received and entered in a book by me—luggage left by customers is entered in the cloak-room book—I have searched those books for the whole of February, and can find no luggage in the name of Svalander or Smith, Paton or Blessig—I have never seen the prisoner.
CHARLES BIRD . I am a printer at 1, Villiers Street, Strand—I have known the prisoner eight or ten months—during that time I have printed a number of visiting cards for him in different names—I printed these for him by his instructions in the names of P. Liedquist, Rhoss, Le Comte The Court, G. Krafft, Julius G. Glass, James Paton, V. Svalander—I received this by post: "Would you please to have this name finished at 1 o'clock. Oscar Ferlin. 15"—that means 15 cards—the prisoner came about it the next day.
JAMES BRETT (Police Sergeant) I have had the conduct of this matter—the prisoner was brought to Vine Street Police-station—I aid to him—I am a police officer, and you will be charged with obtaining 5l. from Mr. Tucker on the 10th on false and fraudulent pretences"—he said "I have 5l. in my pocket; let me give it to him and go"—I searched and found on him 6l. and a few shillings; also some pocket-handkerchiefs, one of them marked in silk with a coronet and "J. H."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "It is a mistake. I wish to be defended, and will say it afterwards."
The prisoner in his defence denied that he had ever been in Mr. Reynold's office; and as to the other cases he said he was in need of money, and did it with the intention of paying it back, and that he was sorry for it.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his ill-health. Sergeant Brett stated that the prisoner had obtained 100l. in all from various banks and insurance offices.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSES. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., and BESLEY Prosecuted; SIR HENRY JAMES, Q.C., and MR. GRAIN Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY PEAK . I am a manufacturing jeweller and gold smith. of 29, Gerard Street, Soho; it was formerly Grant and Peek—I have known the prisoner since April, 1885—this (produced) is a summary signed by him, and dated May, 1886, of his indebtedness to me at that date: "G. M.Schroder, in account with Grant and Peek." (Giving the amount of dishonoured bills, amounting to 4,404l. 9s. 10d., and stating "This account is correct, and Messrs. Grant and Peek are fully entitled to collect against my state.
M. SCHRODER." This correctly represents his indebtedness to us at that date, but there were costs left for suing in Paris—on 6th July, 1886, I received this letter from the prisoner. (Dated 6th July, 1886, from the Hotel Metropole, from the prisoner, stating that he had an abscess in his mouth and could not go out, and asking the witness to call on him.) I went to the hotel and saw him—he told me there was no need to trouble further about raising money on his reversion, as he had arranged with a cousin to raise sufficient money to pay his debts—I told him he had made me so many promises, and as I had to take proceedings against him on his bills that I should be glad if he would put it on paper to show to friends of mine, and he wrote this in my presence: "6th July, 1886. Dear Mr. Peek,—I herewith inform you that I have made such arrangements as will enable me to pay you this month 5,000l. for capital and interest, that I shall do through relations, who will advance the money"—nothing further passed—after he wrote that he left—I saw him again the following day at my office in Gerard Street—he had called twice during the morning when I was out—he called again about 1 o'clock—he seemed very much agitated, and asked to speak to me privately—I took him upstairs to my private room—we were there together—he was very much agitated, and for some time he could not speak; in fact, I had to get him some wine—at last he said
"What I have to tell you I don't know how to begin"—I said "What is it?"—he said "When you were suing me in Paris I was pressed by other people, and I forged your name"—I said "Whose name? my name or the firm's name?"—he said "Grant and Peek"—I said "When are the bills payable?"—he said "To-morrow, at your bankers'"—I said "I must show something to the bank as a reason for returning them"—he said "Yes, I will write"—this is what he wrote; it is written on my paper—he appealed to me on account of his mother, that it would kill her if I took any steps; that he was quite sure his uncle would pay—I said "In that case I must speak to my nephew, and he must go and see your uncle at once; I must call my nephew up and tell him, and he must go with you and see your uncle at once"—I called my nephew up, and when he came into the room the prisoner said "Don't tell him; give me five minutes"—I told my nephew to go into the back room for a few minutes—I waited a few minutes, and said that I considered I had given him time enough, and I then called my nephew in, explained the whole thing to him, and showed him the paper—I do not think that paper had been written before my nephew went into the back room—I think the prisoner wrote it before my nephew was called in; I am not sure—the paper was downstairs; my nephew brought it—he brought it before he went into the back room, and while he was there the prisoner wrote what is on it. (Read:" 29, Gerard Street, Soho, 6th July, 1886. Mr. Peek, I have to confess to you that I have forged the name of Grant and Peek to the following bills,") making a total of 2,258l.—I showed that paper to my nephew—I told my nephew he would have to go and see Baron Schroder in Leadenhall Street—they went away together—I saw my nephew later on—on the following day I went to my bankers, the Union Bank, Argyll Street—I made a communication to them—afterwards these five bills were brought to me by a bankers' clerk. (Herbert George Muskett, clerk to Messrs. Wontner, proved service of notice on the prisoner's solicitors to produce the bills). The signature to the bills was "Schroder"—the signature of the acceptor is not mine—I never gave any one authority to put my name to the bills—there is a resemblance to my hand writing—the prisoner has had from time to time documents with my signature—at the end of May we applied for a warrant, and towards the end of July I swore an information.
Cross-examined by I first became acquainted with the prisoner on 14th April, 1885—I sold him a bracelet, he did not pay for it—at the end of 1885 I was pressed for money—I sent bills of exchange to the prisoner in Paris, accepted by my firm—at one time he held 2,000l. or 3,000l. worth of bills, it might be 5,000l. or 6,000l.—I don't think I ever sent any in blank, I could not say positively—he was friendly with a customer of mine in Paris, from whom I held a large quantity of foreign bills as security for a debt, he said no doubt it would be an accommodation to me if he could put me in funds to take up the customer's bills—he was to discount the bills in Paris, and send over the produce to me—that was the course of business pursued between us to the end of 1885 and the beginning of 1886—he has remitted to me about 2 000l., I don't think. more—I don't think I saw the prisoner in England during 1886—I frequently wrote to him; I sued him in Paris and in London as well—I did not hear of these bills being in existence until the prisoner came and told me of it—I saw him in London on 6th July, and the bills became
due on the 8th—I think I did not dictate this confession to the prisoner, I could not tell you, because we were both in a very agitated state; he said "I will write it down"—I told him I wanted a document to show to the bank, I might have said "You must put down that you forged those bills," and he wrote it—I was not then in the habit of giving notice to my bank when bills were coming due to be met; this was the first time we had ever given the bankers notice, I do so now; when bills are becoming due we always provide for them—I cannot tell from memory what my liabilities were at the time, but I was solvent—had I known that I had accepted these bills I should have provided for them, but as I had not I did not provide for them—the first step I took after obtaining this document was to send the prisoner with my nephew to see his uncle, because he said his uncle would arrange to help him to pay the bills—I knew they were forged at that time—I also directed my nephew to go to the Paddington Station to see the uncle, and also to his house at Windsor; that was at the prisoner's suggestion—those attempts to obtain the money were not successful—I did not send him with a view of getting the money simply, but with a view of knowing what they were going to do about the bills—I told my nephew to remain in the same room with the prisoner all night, because the prisoner telegraphed to his brother and was expecting an answer, and simply to know what was to be done in the morning; it was not to lose sight of him; it was not that he might get the money to meet the bills, that was immaterial to me, there was no certainty that he would be there in the morning—I did not afterwards tell my nephew to let him go to Hamburg or where he liked—I sent to his lawyer, Mr. Vallance, not to get the money, to talk it over; Mr. Vallance told me if I took no steps everything should be arranged, that the bills should be paid—I then told my nephew to leave the prisoner; I knew he was to go straight to Hamburg, and he did go the same night—I knew then that he had committed forgery—he was going to Hamburg to get the money I presume—all this occurred on the 8th—the bills were all met and paid on the 13th—I have not lost anything on the bills; I have a claim against him that has not been paid—on the 27th I took proceedings for this forgery; that was not until he had left the country without paying me—if I had known that the bills had been paid I should not have taken any proceedings; I had no positive information that they had been paid—Mr. Thomas wrote to me from Paris, and said "I believe all the bills have been paid"—I suppose I could have found that out by going to the bank—the only in formation I had was from Mr. Thomas; I never heard anything more of them, perhaps I did believe the information—if my debt had been paid I should not have prosecuted—he led me to believe that he was entitled to a very large reversion; he sent me a will of his grandfather's, suggesting that money could be raised on the reversion—I put it in the hands of my solicitor—I have not been paid.
Re-examined The bills that I accepted and sent to Paris were subse quently presented to me, and I had to pay them—I made nothing out of them.
WILLIAM JOHN STEAD . Mr. Peek is my uncle—on 7th July, 1886, I was at Gerard Street, his place of business—I was called by him to a room where the prisoner was; he begged my uncle not to tell me, to give him another five minutes—he was greatly agitated—Mr. Peek then
instructed me to withdraw into the adjoining room—he then called me again and told me to fetch some note paper from the office downstairs; I did so—this document (marked D) is a similar paper—I was told to wait in the adjoining room a few minutes—Mr. Peek then called me into the front room again, and then informed me what had taken place; he showed me this documents, and told me that I was to go with the prisoner to his uncle, Baron Schroder in Leadenhall Street, as the prisoner said he could arrange with his uncle to pay the forged bills—we went there, and the Baron refused to see him—we then returned to Gerrard Street, and from there went to Paddington, with a view of seeing the Baron there on his way to Windsor; I saw the Baron there; the prisoner refused to speak to him, he said he wait a little distance off while I spoke to him—I did speak to him—previous to that, on our way to Ludgate Hill, I asked the prisoner about the forged bills, and what made him do such a thing—he said the reason was his wife was very ill at the time, he was very much pressed for money, he did not know which way to turn, and therefore he forged the acceptance—he said he hoped before the bills came due he would be able to raise the money to enable him to pay his debts and to provide for those bills as well—I afterwards went with him to a house at Windsor, I did not go in, I waited at the gates; he returned after a short time and stated that his uncle would not see him, that he had written to him—I asked him where, he said he did not know—I then returned with him to London—on the way back he said "When a man gets into a position like I am now, he becomes desperate"—he said that he would never be locked up or committed for trial, he would kill himself sooner—after that I went with him to the Hotel Metropole, and remained there with him that night—next day I went with him to Leadenhall Street—I parted with him about 11 in the morning—I saw him again that night for Hamburg, and before going he wished to thank me for the consideration I had shown him the previous day.
Cross-examined by. I left him in consequence of the instructions of my uncle—I knew that he was going to Hamburg, I think for the purpose of getting the money—I don't know he had not obtained the money at that time—I had been trying to obtain it from his relative—I slept in the same room with him simply to keep an eye on him—on Friday last, the 16th, his wife came to my uncle—I was told to accompany her Mr. Wontner's office—she came with a proposal to my uncle that she would pays a certain sum of money if he would withdraw from the prosecution—Mr. Wontner refused to enter into that proposition, and I left with her—I knew that the prisoner was indebted to my uncle—I know that the lady told my uncle that she and her sister had scraped together 1,100—I said that although my uncle had not authorized me to say so, I took upon myself to state that he would accept 10s. in the pound, and the costs amounting to 6000l., but at the same time we could make no arrangement whatever about this prosecution—I said that Mr. Peek would be gold to take the 10., because he knew that the debt was a bad one—the 600l. was the costs of suing him, and one way and the other my uncle had been put to a great deal of expense—I said that to her—she said "That will amount in reality to 3,000l., the family will not do anything, and I my sister
cannot do more"—I said "We shall be here to-morrow if you call"—she said "I cannot call to-morrow as the family will not help me in this case."
Re-examined I was not present when the lady saw my uncle last Friday—he instructed me to take her to Messrs. Wontner, who are conducting this prosecution—I had no authority to make her any offer; I told her so—I said I thought Mr. Peek would accept 10s.; I did not say he would—I took her to Mr. Wontner, and I saw him—he refused to see her, and declined to have anything to say.
WILLIAM ORAM . I am clerk to Glyn, Mills, and Co., bankers, Lombard Street—on or about 7th July, 1886, we received from the Imperial Bank in Throgmorton Street five bills of exchange—I believe these (produced) to be copies of those bills—they were presented in due course at the Argyll Street branch of the Union Bank of London, and were returned to us as paid—we returned them to the notaries in the ordinary course the same day—the notaries would act upon them in the usual course, and return them to the Imperial Bank.
WILLIAM ROBINSON . I am manager of the Imperial Bank, Throg morton Street—in June, 1886, I was the accountant there—on 10th April, 1886, I received from Paris two bills of exchange for 485l. and 486l., and on 24th April one for 287l. 4s. 8d., and on 18th May two for 323l. 3s. 4d., and 378l. 13s. 8d.—they were all drawn by Max Schroder on Grant and Peek, and purporting to be accepted by them—they were all payable on 8th July at the Union Bank of London, Argyll Place—I placed them in the hands of Glyn, Mills, and Co. for collection—they were returned unpaid on the 9th—upon that I communicated with our solicitors, and afterwards went to Scotland Yard, and Inspector Montano went with me to Grant and Peek—on 13th July I went to the office of J. H. Schroder and Co., Leadenhall Street—I there saw three gentle men, and received value for the whole of the bills, which I gave up three days afterwards—on 16th July I received a bill for 390l. 9s. from a correspondent in Paris—I took that to the same office in Leadenhall Street, and it was paid, and I left the bill there.
Cross-examined by I represent the Imperial Ottoman Bank—the bank also carries on business in Paris—we received the five bills from the Paris house—I presume they had discounted them, and sent them over for collection on the 9th, and not paid—I went and attempted to see Mr. Peek a day or two after at his place of business—I did not see him—he would not see me—I sent up my name and business—I first went to Scotland Yard with our solicitor, and we all three went to the office—the solicitor was sent for, I think Mr. Brown, of Ironmonger Lane—I saw him—he would not give us any information—the name of Mr. Magnion, the gentleman from our Paris house, is on the bill—he came over from Paris on 13th July, and saw me, our bank having received the bills from him—I did not learn whether the money to meet the bills had come from Hamburg—the bills were met, and no liability rests on Mr. Peek on them.
Witnesses for the Defence. JOHN WILLIAM SHEPHERD NEALE. I am a librarian, of 248, Rue de Rivoli, Paris—I have known the prisoner some years as a customer—he has purchased English bill stamps of me on several occasions—I have my book here—on April 24th he paid me for 17s. worth of bill stamps two
5s., one 3s., and one 3s. stamp—he had purchased two of them several days before—on 17th May he paid for one 4s. stamp and one 3s. one, making six altogether, all English bill stamps—I sold them to him personally.
MONSIEUR MAGNION . I am a commission agent, of Boulevart Sebastopol, Paris—I am intimately acquainted with the prisoner and his wife—they lived at 3, Rue de la Belle Etoile—I visited them very often—I first knew them about three years ago, 1884 or 1885—in 1885 the prisoner was ill with inflammation, and was sent to the South of France—he returned to Paris in April, 1886—as far as I know he left Paris on 5th July, 1886, and I did not see him again till lately—in April and May, 1886, I saw him almost daily—I have no knowledge of his being in England after his return from the South of France, and it is impossible that he could be, from the number of times I saw him—I knew of Madame Schroder going away with one of her daughters—I knew what was going on in her house—I discounted bills for the prisoner from time to time, some of them before the six bills which have been mentioned—he first brought me two bills about 14th April, 1886, and he gave me this receipt—it is written by me and signed by him, and dated 15th April, 1886—it is in French—it is for a total of 23,430 francs, the amount of two bills for 849l. English, which I discounted for him—I gave him the money, and passed the bills over to my account at the Imperial Ottoman Bank in Paris, to be presented on my behalf, and after they had discounted them for me I had no further care of them—that was all the prisoner had to do with the first two bills—I must have seen the prisoner on 20th April, as I discounted two bills for him, amounting to 668l. 8s. 2d., and he gave me this receipt—one of the two final bills is dated May 21st, but the date of the bill does not represent the date of the transaction with me—I have nothing to do with the date of the stamping—the two bills in May amounted to 701l. 17s.—on May 21st I handed the prisoner the money, and he gave me the receipt—he had had the bills previously—the date of the receipt has nothing to do with the day when the Ottoman Bank got the notes, I discounted them before that—the transaction of May was exactly the same as the former one—I came to this country on July 13th—I received notice from the bank that the bills had not been met, and I even left money for the bills before I left Paris.
Re-examined I have no record of the day on which the bills were handed to me—I asked my banker to discount them for me; that was five, six. or 10 days before I got the money and handed it to the prisoner.
MR. LOCKWOOD contended that, as to the uttering, although the bills might be first uttered in France, their remittance to this country and the subsequent dealing with them here, was a continuous uttering here, which would render the prisoner responsible to the jurisdiction of this Court.
Upon the stated facts the JURY found that the bills were drawn and discounted in France.
The RECORDER held that this Court had no jurisdiction, and directed the Jury to find a verdict of
NOT GUILTY . No evidence was offered on the other Indictments, as to the other bills, the facts being precisely similar.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. PHILLIPS Defended.
GUILTY . — Six Months' Hard Labour each .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, March 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
WILLIAM MOLE . I am a bricklayer, of 13, Edgeworth Terrace, Pembery Road, Tottenham—on 16th February, 1887, I saw this advertisement in the Daily Chronicle for a trustworthy man, able to work on house property, with 60l. cash security, apply 69, Ida Street, East India Dock Road, Poplar—I wrote to that address, and on 22nd February received this letter "B." (Saying that if he was in a position to deposit 50l. cash security and to sign an agreement, he could commence work at once, and that the advertiser would meet him to-morrow.) I have seen the prisoner write, this is his writing—in consequence of that letter I went to 69, Ida Street on 22nd February—I did not see the prisoner then, I called again on the same day and saw him—he said "I want a trustworthy man, honest, whom I can trust to collect rents, attend sales, buy and sell property for me" he said I should have 500l. or 600l. in my hands sometimes, that he had property at Poplar, Plaistow, and Southgate, and should want me to go to Plaistow the following week to sell some of the property, and he should want 50l. security—I asked him if he could not take part; he said no, the security was for my holding so much of his money—I asked if I could not pay part down, and a part later on—he said "No, I must have it all down at once before you commence," and asked when I should be able to deposit 50l.—I said in a few days if it was genuine—he said "Yes, you will find me all right, I am honest myself and I want a man the same"—I asked him what wages he would give—he said "What do you want?"—I said 2l. a week—he said he could not give so much—I agreed to take 35s.—he arranged to meet me on Saturday, the 26th, at the same place, where I was to deposit the 50l.—I did so about 4 o'clock, taking the money with me, part notes and part cash—I told him I had brought it—he gave me this agreement to read—I made a copy of it—I believed the statements it contained. (By the agreement Mole was to be employed by Pantlin at 35s. a week, to let houses, collect rents, attend sales, and make himself useful, and to advance 50l. as security, and Pantlin was to repay the 50l. at a month's notice, and to pay 7 per cent. during the time he retained the 50l.) I thought it was a genuine service—I believed the other statements about the 500l. or 600l., and that this was really required as a guarantee for my honesty, and that he was in a position to give me permanent employment as long as I behaved myself—he read the agreement, I executed it and had a counterpart—I paid my money—I asked him if he did not want any references—he hesitated and said yes, he would have one—I gave him Mr. Franklin, Criterion Buildings, High Road, Tottenham—he was to
communicate with Mr. Franklin, the suggestion came from me—I was to begin my work on the Monday succeeding, 28th February, when he was to meet me—I did not see him then—on the Tuesday I went again—I saw him between 10 and 11, and went with him to 1, 2, 3, and 4, Sophia Street, and 1, 2, 3, and 4, Elizabeth Terrace, Poplar—they are adjoining streets—he showed me to the tenants, and told them I should be their collector for the future to collect their rents—one of the tenants, Mrs. Sullivan, said in his hearing, "How many more collectors are you going to bring here?"—she said she did not believe the property belonged to him at all—the prisoner said "Come along, Mole, don't take any notice of what the women say"—he gave me no book, and did not tell me what the amounts were—the property was seven or eight roomed houses in bad condition—he told me I was to go down to North Street, Plaistow, and take Lemon, who had been collector, with me to do some repairs to 45 and 47, North Street—I collected throughout the week from 1st March to the 4th or 5th in Sophia Street, and I collected that week 8s. 9d. there, paid in half-crowns and florins—that was the most I could get—next week I collected 3s. 9d. from the same houses in Sophia Street—during the third week I occupied myself at North Street some time in doing cement work at two shops there, 45 and 47—I went nearly every day in the week—there were seven houses in Sophia Street—it took me pretty well an hour there altogether—after I had done that I would go and do the cementing—I did not collect after the second week—I heard something from Lemon—I was paid my wages for the first two weeks, 3l. 10s. in all—I worked all the third week, and at the end of it I waited there expecting to see somebody—I did not get my wages—I went on working the greater part of the fourth week—I could not see the prisoner; I tried to find him—he came down the third week and spoke to Lemon, not to me—I was looking for him from Tuesday to Saturday in the fourth week, and could not find him—on 26th March I saw his wife at Liverpool Street Station with her father, Mr. Elkins—there was a conversation, in which we all three took part—I made some statement to them about my wages—the meeting at Liverpool Street Station was arranged by Elkins—the prisoner did not attend it—that was the first occasion on which any mention was made of a charge to be given to me—by arrangement I was to meet the prisoner on 29th March, three days afterwards—I met him and Elkins then at Liverpool Street Station—I asked the prisoner what he meant by treating me as he had done, and if he was going to pay me—he said "It will be all right, Mole; you need not trouble"—we went to a public-house, and he signed and gave me this charge. (Dated 29th March. This was a charge on the houses 45 and 47, North Street, Plaistow, for the payment of the wages and the 50l., the same to be repaid by 23rd April, together with interest at 7 per cent., and was signed Louis Pantlin.) I asked him if there was any incumbrance on the property, and he said "No"—I asked where the deeds were—he said "We have not got them with us; it will be all right; you will soon have your money; you need not trouble about the deeds"—the charge was brought already signed and executed—Fowler, the witness to it, was introduced to me by the prisoner; he is not here—I believed that the prisoner was the owner of this property, and that this was a valid charge upon it, and a valuable document—he made no statement to me as to his holding the one house
and one house only, or as to his having deposited the lease for a monetary advance on 1st January, 1887—in April and afterwards I applied to the prisoner for my money, but never received any portion of it beyond the 3l. 10s.—I never saw him afterwards—I asked him his address—he gave me 86, Leadenhall Street—I went there, but could not find him—about 5th May I received this letter from 86, Leadenhall Street. (This said that he was about engaging an office to himself, and that when he left Leadenhall Street he would forward the address, and that he need not be uneasy, as all would be right presently.) I did not know in February that Charles Mills and William Bussell were pressing the prisoner for money—I knew nothing of those two people; they were never mentioned to me while I was in tho prisoner's service, and I never saw them.
Cross-examined by. I am a journeyman bricklayer, and experienced in repairing houses—I first went to Sophia Street to collect rents; I did no repairs there—then I went to 45 and 47, North Street, and then to 201, High Street, Poplar—these are small rents payable in small sums every week, and troublesome to collect, varying from 2s. to 2s. 6d. a week—when I first saw the prisoner I asked for 2l. a week—that was not exorbitant—he said it was too much; he could not give it, and I finally agreed to work for 35s. a week—that is a fair average wage in these times—it was not that but the money I was to hold in the future that tempted me to make the deposit of 50l.—I made inquiries about the property at Southgate, and found the prisoner had some interest in it—I did not find he had a lease of property there—I cannot remember saying at the police-court "I made inquiries, and ascertained that the property at New Southgate belonged to Mr. Pantlin"—my evidence was read over to me, and I signed it—if that is on the deposition I said it.
Re-examined. It was put to me in that form—all I found out was that the prisoner collected the rents—I knew nothing about its being mortgaged on 3rd March, 1886, with the exception of three houses—45 and 47, North Street were not occupied—a great many of the South gate houses were unoccupied—I knew nothing of the exact relation the prisoner held in regard to the property—the statement that I should have 500l. in my hands was one of the things that influenced me—he said I should have to collect the rents, and he must have security—I believed his statements, and acted on them.
By MR. HUTTON. My own solicitor drew the charge—the prisoner gave me one which I took to my solicitor—he said "It is of no use," and gave me another—the prisoner pressed me to give up the agreement of 26th February, but I would not.
THOMAS JOHN PITTFIELD . I am a solicitor, of Gray's Inn—in January, 1887, the prisoner owed our firm money—before or in that month his wife had been sued for the rent of 201, High Street, Poplar, and 12 cottages in Red Lion Court, and there was an action for possession—I advanced to her and the prisoner 50l.; in fact, I paid a debt of 51l. 15s.—I took as security for the money a joint and several promissory note and a deposit of the lease of 45 and 47, North Street—the lease was the principal security—I did not have it valued; I took it more out of kind ness to Mrs. Pantlin than anything else—I thought she would lose the property if it was not paid—it was a lease of those two houses to the prisoner, giving him a leasehold interest in the houses for 80 years, from
Christmas, 1886, at a rental of 9l. a year—the wife had no interest in the premises 45 and 47, she had been sued in respect of other premises—I have no idea of the value of the property—I know the prisoner told me he hoped to get quite 100l. by it by laying out some money—I promised to pay the money on 31st January, and on 1st February I paid it, and the lease was deposited with me on 9th February, 1887—with the exception of four houses, 14, 15, 16, and 17, Travers Road, all the 3l. houses at Southgate were mortgaged by the prisoner to me by a sub lease of 3rd May, 1886—that is the way we usually take a mortgage—some advance I made—14, 15, 16, and 17 were mortgaged too—the whole property was mortgaged.
Cross-examined by. The date of the lease on the Plaistow property was February 9th—it was left with me on 7th February; it had not been taken up at the time, and it was arranged that when it was taken up it should be left with me—the money was advanced before I had it—I paid it to the solicitors who issued the writ—I have known the prisoner for seven or eight years—my firm has acted for him—I advanced the 50l. out of kindness to the wife—the prisoner collected the rents, although the property was mortgaged—none of the mortgagees were in possession.
THOMAS SHARP . I am a surveyor and valuer, of St. Andrew's Road, Plaistow—I have had considerable experience in surveying property and valuing houses in that neighbourhood—I have inspected these houses, 45 and 47—I consider the value of the 80 years' lease of that property 20l.—the property has recently been faced and put in repair in front, cemented, but otherwise it is in a dilapidated condition, and has been for some time—45 and 47 are now two houses, but they were originally one house; they are worth about 9s. a week.
Cross-examined by. It is a lease for 80 years; the houses are unoccupied—they were let as two houses to two tenants last, not in flats—one was unlet when I inspected them; they are both empty now—shortly before they had been let at 9s. a week the two, not each—I estimated they would let at 4s. and 5s. respectively—I was aware at the time of the inspection that they had been recently repaired.
Re-examined. The cement work Mr. Mole did.
GEORGE FRANKLING . I live at 6, Criterion Buildings, Tottenham—I know Mole—I was content he should give me as reference if the prisoner wanted one—the prisoner never applied to me for Mole's character.
WILLIAM BUSSELL . I am a commission agent, of 14, Richmond Terrace, Clapham Road—on 15th July, 1886, I inserted an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph for a situation of trust, offering 50l. cash security and asking for 35s. a week—shortly after that I received a letter signed "Louis Pantlin," in consequence of which I went on 17th July to Holly Lodge, New Park, Loughton, where I saw Mrs. Pantlin—I had some conversation with her, and waited till about 6 o'clock, when the prisoner came—I was introduced to him—we had tea together, and after that Mrs. Pantlin went away, leaving me and the prisoner together—he said he was in want of a clerk and collector to collect his rents and sell his property, and that he should require 50l. as cash security, as I should have a large amount passing through my hands—he said as he was so busy he had such numerous property he could not attend to it—I asked him what he had to show for the 50l. security—he said he had various properties; he had about 40 houses; 3l. at Travers Road,
Southgate, and in Victoria Dock Road—he said there was a caretaker living in the corner shop at Travers Road, but he was paying about 30l. a year rent—this conversation took place in the house—then he asked me if I had seen his garden, and from what he said I con sidered that Holly Lodge was his as well—when he mentioned about the Southgate property I said "Does this house and property belong to you" (meaning Holly Lodge), "and the Southgate property as well?" and the prisoner said "Yes"—I was shown round the garden of Holly Lodge; I was virtually engaged, and it was arranged I should come again on the following Monday, 19th July, about 9.30, and he would drive me down and introduce me to the caretaker—he said on the Saturday I was to collect rents and conduct sales—he said he was in the habit of having a room in the public-house to sell in, and I was to sell—I asked him what wages he would give me—he said what I had inserted in the advertise ment, 35s. a week—that was agreed between us—he said he would make me a present if I sold the property, according to the amount—I sold it for in fact a commission—nothing was said on that day as to any charge existing on the Travers Road property—from what he said I believed the property was entirely his own, and I believed he had other properties—he mentioned some in the Victoria Dock Road, or close handy, in the East End—on the 19th I went to his house at 9.30, and he drove me to Southgate in a trap—on the way down he told me that the property in Travers Road that we were going to visit belonged to him, and that he had various others in different parts of London, in Sophia Street, High Street, Poplar, and in the Victoria Dock Road, or close handy—we stopped at the corner shop in Travers Road—he went in, and Mr. Nash came out with him—he introduced me to Nash, and said I was a gentle man come down to sell the property, and Mr. Nash was to take his orders from me as if from himself—Nash said "Very well, Sir"—he said Nash was the caretaker who lived on the property and looked after the repairs—we then drove to the Woolpack, a beerhouse in the neighbourhood—I was there introduced to the landlord and landlady—the prisoner told them I was coming down to sell the property, and asked if they would allow me to use the private room as usual—the landlord said he would—the prisoner told the landlady I was coming on the following Monday, I think he said, and he said "Let him have the use of the room just as I have had the use of it"—we then went back to Holly Lodge, Loughton—it was there arranged that I should come down on the Tuesday, the next day, the 20th, and pay the deposit—I went, there about the middle of the day, and found the prisoner and Mrs. Pautlin there—we conversed on general subjects; we were there a very little time—the the prisoner brought out two forms of agreement and filled them in; I signed one and he the other—it was a facsimile of Mr. Mole's, which I have read—an ordinary penny stamp was put on one—I had it stamped afterwards with a sixpenny stamp—the agreement was to terminate as a month's notice on either side, and the 50l. was to be returned at the end of the month—on that the money was paid over in 10 5l. bank-notes—the prisoner said he was going to advertise the Southgate property for sale, and he would send me a notice to insert in the Daily Telegraph and Daily Chronicle—they would appear on the Monday he thought, and I was to go down on the Tuesday and sell the property—on 23rd July I received the advertisement I was to insert, and in the same letter a cheque for
3l. 10s. on the Birkbeck Bank was enclosed, 1l. 15s. for salary and 1l. 15s. for the advertisements—I inserted the advertisements, and paid 35s. for them before I went to the bank—when I went to the bank the cheque was returned to me, marked "Refer to drawer"—I never received the 3l. 10s. for that cheque—I had another cheque for 3l. 10s., which I cashed at the Birkbeck Bank—on the following day, the 27th, I went to Southgate—I remained there two months—advertisements continually appeared in the papers, and I was showing people over the property, and endeavouring to sell—the prisoner gave me forms of agreement—I tried during those two months to sell the property, but I could not; the ground rents were so exorbitant—my wages were paid during that time—about the 4th or 5th of September I received a letter from the prisoner, in con sequence of which I went to 162, East India Road a few days after and saw him—he said he wanted me to sell the Sophia Street pro perty—he thought he would make a change; he would send another collector and salesman to Southgate, and would send me there to see if I could do any better with the Sophia Street property—I had to sell there and at Elizabeth Terrace, in the rear of Sophia Street; it all goes together—forms of agreement for sale were given me with regard to that—I stopped at Sophia Street about six weeks—I attempted to sell the property, but did not succeed—during that time Mr. and Mrs. Pantlin came to me several times—about 20th September the prisoner said he wanted to buy some more property; would I like to go shares with him in buying it; it was somewhere in Limehouse—I said I had no more money—he mentioned it several times; he seemed to think I had a good deal more money—on 23rd September he said he had my 50l. lying idle in the bank, and as I could not advance him any more would I let him have the use of that—he said it would make no difference to the former agreement—I concurred, and permitted him to use the 50l., under the belief that it was lying idle at the bank—we executed this second agreement. (Dated 24th September, by which Bussell agreed to advance 50l. to Louis Pantlin for six months at 71/2 per cent. interest, he to be retained in Pantlin's service at 35s., and Pantlin bound him self, his executors, and administrators. This cancelled the former agreement.) The prisoner asked me for the first agreement; he kept worrying me for it for weeks; I would not give it to him, but at last I did, he worried me so—I remained at Sophia Street till November—from the time I left Southgate and came to Sophia Street I had nothing to do only trying to sell this property—I asked the prisoner to let me collect his rents, but he would not; I never collected any rents at South gate or Sophia Street—I received a letter from him at the end of October: "Please look up Kingsland this week and get addresses of properties"—at that time there was nothing at all for me to do—he said he wanted to purchase old properties there—on 31st December two weeks' wages were due to me—some time in November he wrote me a letter, in consequence of which my wages were reduced to 25s. a week for a short time, that was a temporary arrangement—in January I wrote to him telling him two weeks were due to me, and I received cheques on the London and South-Western Bank, signed Miriam Pantlin, which were paid; they cleared me up to the end of December, 1886—since that time, up to which I have been paid, I have applied to the prisoner for my wages by letter—I nave had no answer—I nave been to the address 86,
Leadenhall Street, I have not seen him there—I had no notice from the prisoner to leave, under this agreement or otherwise—in March. 1887, I received a letter from Elkins, and an appointment was made between us—some conversation took place, and as a result of that Mr. Snowden, an auctioneer, negotiated for me with Elkins and the prisoner as to the 50l. and the settlement of my wages—no part of the 50l. has been paid to me, nor the arrears of my wages from the end of. 1886—on 5th April I left the matter entirely in the hands of Mr. Snowden—he told me about this agreement. (This stated that 45 and 47, North Street, Plaistow, were thereby charged with 50l. due from the prisoner to Mr. Bussell, and that the prisoner charged himself with the payment of that sum before June, 1887 Signed, Louis Pantlin Witness, Alfred Elkins.) No part of the money was paid me in June, 1887—I was not told, nor did I find out at the time, that there was a charge on that same property given to Mr. Mole, or of the deposit of the lease of those premises with Mr. Pitt field—while I was in the prisoner's employment I never met Mole or Mills; I have seen Lemon—there are two properties in Sophia Street—I had to sell houses in Poplar Street; Lemon was living there, the prisoner told me he was paying so much a year for that—I did not know Mole and Mills were in the prisoner's employment, and employed to undertake the same duties as I was.
Cross-examined by Mole was not employed at the same time as I—my wages ceased at the end of December, 1886; the last payment was by three cheques in January, which finished me up to December—I went to Holly Lodge in the afternoon first, I did not pay the 50l. then, but afterwards—Holly Lodge is a large place with a large kitchen and fruit garden—35s. was a fair wage—I did not consider it very large, especially when I was putting down cash—that was no temptation to part with my money—I thought the situation was good—I might have paid 50l. if he had offered 25s., because I thought the security was good, and I might have worked up to a better position, I think I should—I said at the police-court "I would not have parted with my money unless I was going to receive 35s. a week," but they did not take the rest of the evidence; I said "Considering all things," the security was good—I said "No" to that, at the police-court first, and then I said "All things considered"—it is true—I cannot say what I should have done, I might have parted with my deposit if I was going to receive less than 35s. a week—I asked him in the house "Does this house and property belong to you?" he said "Yes"—I had not gone into the garden then—I asked him if he was the owner, I did not say absolute owner—that applied to Holly Lodge and Southgate—my business was to sell the property at Southgate—I inserted the advertisements he sent me on the first occasion, and he inserted them himself after that—I saw many people—no sales were completed—it was not till 15th July last year that a warrant was applied for against the prisoner; he was apprehended, brought before a Magistrate at Stratford, charged with false pretences—the case was not gone into at all, I gave my evidence, I had six witnesses, and they were none of them allowed to be heard, the case was dismissed.
Re-examined. The first agreement that I handed back to the prisoner was not put in before the Magistrate at Stratford, it was not forth coming, but on his behalf the agreement of 24th September was pro
duced—that was executed on his telling me about the money at the bank—the Magistrate dismissed the case—I was then the only witness called, and mine was the only case under investigation—it was six months before the warrant was executed; we could not find the prisoner any where—he was taken early in February or at the end of January this year under a warrant and charged—I said before the Magistrate, "I parted with my money in consequence of all Pantlin's representations; all Pantlin's representations had some effect on my mind in inducing me to part with my money"—that was the whole truth—it was the security which principally induced me.
WILLIAM SNOWDEN . I am a financial agent, of 100, Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham—I am a friend of Bussell—in consequence of certain instructions I received from him, I negotiated in reference to certain matters with Mr. Elkins, and received this charge by post in a letter from Elkins—I showed it to Mr. Bussell.
MR. MATITEWS here put in, under the Bankers' Books Evidence Act, a copy of the prisoner's banking account and an affidavit made by Francis Ravenscroft, manager of the Birkbeck Bank, showing that the account was opened in the name of Louis Pantlin, of Holly Lodge, Loughton, and 3, Granville Terrace, George Lane, Woodford, on 1st March, and closed on 23rd August, 1886; that on 23rd July 20l. was paid in, and that the whole sum paid in was 69l. 10s. 2d., of which 681. 19s. 10d. was drawn out, leaving a credit balance on 23rd August of 13s. 4d.
JOHN STOKES . I live at Saratoga House, Milfield Road, Clapton—up to July, 1887, I was the owner of Holly Lodge, New Park, Loughton—the prisoner was only there as my tenant under a three years' agreement from September, 1885, at a rental of 45l. a year.
GEORGE NASH . I am a painter, of 91, Lansdowne Road, Canning Town—in February, 1886, the prisoner engaged me to collect the rents of the houses at Southgate—I went to live there, at 44, Travers Road, the corner shop, in March, 1886—I paid no rent; the agreement between us was that I was to collect the rents, and he was to pay me 30s. a week for doing so, I having a house to live in and all my expenses paid—I was not tenant of that house from year to year, I was only a weekly ser vant—when I first went there was only seven houses occupied out of the 27—I collected the rents from time to time, from March till November, 1886, and lived in the corner house—I had to take my wages out of the rent I collected, he never paid my wages—in November when I left his service he owed me 7l. 18s. I think—I was prepared to do all the work of that service—the houses were in a dreadful state.
Cross-examined by. I paid no deposit and was asked for none—I did not furnish a statement every week of the rents I had collected, because I could get no settlement with the prisoner—I wanted to do so—I sent him a statement by post—I knew the prisoner wanted 30l. a year for the house I lived in—I never paid it; I entered into no agreement by which I should pay it; I was to live there rent-free.
JOHN STOKES (Re-examined). I had occasion to go to Holly Lodge occasionally, from November, 1886, till January, 1887—there was scarcely any furniture between 19th November and 6th January, I understood it had been seized, there was next to none—I first noticed that on 19th November, 1886—they owed me one quarter's rent due the September previous.
ROBERT CARLIN . I produce the deeds relating to the property in Sophia Street and Elizabeth Street—on 22nd April, 1886, there is a lease of those houses to Miriam Pantlin by Edward Carpenter for 80 years at 65l. a year; on 13th May, 1886, an assignment of that lease by Miriam Pantlin to Mary Ann Elkins; on 30th July, 1886, a mortgage by Mary Ann Elkins to Richard Beeston Matthews; and on 30th June, 1887, an assignment of the lease by Richard Beeston Matthews to Caroline Gwynne.
CHARLES EDWARD MILLS . I am a bricklayer, of 13, Elthorne Road, Upper Holloway—on 3rd November, 1886, I saw an advertisement in the Daily Chronicle about a situation for a man who understood house repairs and could collect rents, &c.; house rent, free; wages, 30s.; state all particulars and amount of cash security—I sent a reply, and some three weeks afterwards I got a letter, signed Louis Pantlin—I have destroyed it—it asked me to call at 96, Campbell Road, Bow—I wrote and got an answer, signed Louis Pantlin, asking me to call at 144, East India Road—I called there and saw the prisoner—I told him about the advertisement that I had seen—he told me he had property at Southgate, Plaistow, and Poplar, and several other places he mentioned—he asked me if I came about the collector's place—I said "Yes"—he asked me inside, and he asked me what I was—I said "A bricklayer"—he said "That is just what I want," and he asked me if I could deposit 25l.—he asked me if I would travel about—I went with him and Mrs. Pantlin to look at Commodore Court—when we got back from there an agreement was produced and read over by the prisoner—he asked me if I could deposit the 25l.—I said I had not got it with me then—he said my duties would be to do house repairs, collect rents, and attend sales, and then we made an appointment to meet on the Saturday, 11th December—I then went to 144, East India Road, and asked the prisoner if he could not take two bondsmen instead of the money—he said "No," he wished to have the money—he said I should go and see Sophia Street on the Monday, but I never went to see it—on the Saturday this agreement was prepared and read over to me, and then I signed it—it is the same as the others, but the salary was 30s.—no interest was to be paid on the 25l.—on the same day I paid him a cheque for 10l. and 15l. gold, making 25l. in all—the agreement was signed in counterpart; I took one and the prisoner one—I was to start on Monday, 13th December, at Commodore Court, High Street, Poplar—on Monday I went there, and commenced some repairs to some closets there—my wages were paid at the end of that week—I continued working there till 19th February—about three weeks before I left there Clegg came there—in January, 1887, the prisoner complained that I did not do enough work for him—in consequence of that I sent in a written month's notice to terminate the arrangement between us—I after wards saw him, and asked him if he had received my notice—he said "Yes"—about the 16th February I saw the prisoner again at 6, Ida Street—I told him I should want my money, and he told me he wanted me to stop on—I told him I should not do that; I wanted my money by Saturday, the 19th, which would be a month from the day on which I gave him notice—he said nothing—on the 19th I and Cole and Clegg went to 6, Ida Street—we did not see the prisoner, but we saw Mrs. Pantlin, who said something, and in consequence I waited—on 28th February I received this letter (Produced, saying that he expected to settle
matters in a week, and signed L. Pantlin.) I waited the week, but heard no more from him—I then went to 86, Leadenhall Street—I saw Mrs. Pantlin there, and waited a few minutes and saw the prisoner, who told me I should receive a letter from Mr. Elkins—about a week after a letter came from Mr. Elkins—I saw Elkins several times—I did not get my 25l. back—one week was owing for wages—5l. was paid in to my solicitors on 29th March I think, that is all—I believed all the statements the prisoner made to me; they influenced my mind, and I acted upon them.
Cross-examined by. The prisoner had 12 houses in Commodore Courts—my duties were to collect rents and get tenants—I have issued a writ against the prisoner and also against Elkins—I received no guarantee or anything from Elkins for the recovery of the 25l.—I was with the prisoner from November till 19th February, and I gave notice, and asked for the recovery of my deposit, and when I did not receive it issued a writ in the High Court—he asked me to stay on with him; I refused—I would not have given my 25l. if I had received a smaller salary—it was because of the wages and other things—I thought the place was genuine.
Re-examined. I believed what the prisoner said and parted with my money.
THOMAS PARKER . Before 31st December, 1886, I saw an advertise ment in a newspaper, in consequence of which I went to 29, Woodstock Road, East India Road—I saw the prisoner there, and said I called to see him in answer to the advertisement I saw in the Daily Chronicle to collect rents, do house repairs, and attend sales—I am a house painter and decorator, and was then living at 41, Spencer Street, Battersea—I live at Maidenhead now—he said he wanted some one to place in some property at Southgate, to collect rents and do repairs—I was to have 30s. per week and pay him 50l. cash security—I thought the wages would suit very well—I told him I could pay the cash security if it was required—he made no other statements to me at that time, only mentioned the Southgate property as belonging to him—I believed all that statement, and agreed to enter his service—I paid 50l. in cash on 31st December, 1886—I entered his service on 11th January, and endeavoured to collect rents at Southgate—I was more successful than a great many had been, from what I saw of the rent-books—I ceased collecting rents on 6th June, 1887—I gave notice to leave about a month previous, and asked for the 50l. to be returned—I had the same agreement as Mr. Mole—I did not get my 50l. back or any part of it—I only received wages one week the whole time; that was the week I was kept in London.
Cross-examined by. I deducted my wages from the rents, as the prisoner did not send them—I wrote and asked him how it was, and he said it was better for me to deduct my wages out of the rents, and he thought I should collect enough to pay me—I collected altogether 26l.; more than that was due for wages—he offered me no security for my 50l.—he spoke of a charge on 47, High Street, Poplar—he said he had two shops to dispose of, and he thought a man in my trade might do very well if I bought one of them, and he would take my deposit, and I could pay the remainder—I am not one of the prosecutors; I am simply called as a witness by the police.
Re-examined. In the result I gave my services gratuitously for six months, and lost 24l. out of my 50l.
GEORGE MELLISH (Police Sergeant K). On 2nd February I arrested the prisoner at Stratford—I read the warrant to him—he said "Very well"—I took him to the station; he made no reply—I was not at the police-court when he was there in July, 1887.
GUILTY . — Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 21st; and
OLD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, March 23rd and 24th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. FULTON and MUIR Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
JOHN WILLIAM MARSHALL I am paying cashier at the London and Westminster Bank, Bloomsbury branch—Charles Goodall and Sons are customers, and have a large amount—on 20th August this cheque was presented by a young man named Lorrimer—I cashed it about 1.30, giving him 30 100l. notes, 13 50l. notes, and one 20l. note—the 100l. notes were numbered 04841 to 04850, and dated 16th April, 1887; also 05781 to 05790 of the same date; also 06671 to 06680 of the same date—the 13 50l. notes were dated 16th March, 1887, and numbered 28265 to 28277—the 20l. note was numbered 27835, and dated 17th February, 1887—the prisoner opened an account with us in October, 1884—he carried on business in Featherstone Buildings, Holborn—the account is still open—the name and address of the prisoner is in this address book under date of 16th October, 1884—he drew cheques on the account; these are some of them—I know the prisoner by sight; I have seen him in the bank as a customer—this bill (D) is drawn and endorsed by the prisoner, and this promissory note (F) also letters G, H, and Hl and E—this cheque-book has been issued to Goodall and Sons—this cheque did not come from a perforated book, but from a book of single cheques which had been issued to Storr and Neate—that account was closed, and the unused cheques were returned, and are given out singly to customers who want to draw a cheque in the bank.
Cross-examined by. The account was drawn upon up to July, 1887—on 4th July, 1887, we put 250l. to the prisoner's credit as a loan—the 5th July, 1887, was the last payment to credit—on 4th July, 1887, 300l. was drawn for, and 5l. and 10l.—the last cheque drawn was on 5th July, and was for 10l.—that was cashed on 23rd August—Goodall and Sons drew many cheques between August, 1884, and November, 1885, in favour of the prisoner's firm—they are all signed by Clulow—the printing, "For Goodall and Son" on the forged cheque is in a different coloured ink from the others—the forged cheque is from a book issued in November, 1883, and the unused cheques were returned on the 16th September, 1886—this I believe to be the prisoner's signature in the hotel book of 21st July, 1887, at New York—this on 3rd August is also the prisoner's writing, but this on 22nd August is not a good signa
ture—I cannot say that it is the prisoner's, nor this of 7th September, which I do not recognise at all.
Re-examined. The 250l. was advanced on the security of the bill of exchange and the promissory note, both of which were dishonoured—I recognise the signature of 21st July at once—I should not have cashed a cheque on the signature of 22nd August without inquiring.
MARTIN JOHN CALLOW . I am a partner in Goodall and Sons'—I know the prisoner, he carried on business in the name of Daley and Cooper, and we did business with him in 1884 and 1885, and paid him many cheques—I once wrote a letter to him in 1887—Mr. Clulow ceased to be a member of the firm last September—his leaving had been in contem plation for nearly a year—he has gone into another business—this cheque is not ours nor drawn by our authority, nor the endorsement authenti cating the signature.
Cross-examined by We sign thousands of cheques in a year.
ALEXANDER PERKS I am a clerk in the postal department of the Daily Telegraph office—on 17th August the prisoner brought this advertisement for insertion, the answers were to come to the office, I asked him about that—on 19th August some one called for the answers, and they were given to him—Froest the detective called on 31st August, and showed me three or four photographs, and I picked one out as that of the man who brought the advertisement—on 3rd February I picked the prisoner out from a group—a fortnight after I had picked out the photograph I saw it in our manager's hands.
Cross-examined by I receive advertisements from 40 or 50 people a day—I stamp the advertisement and issue a voucher—if the advertisement has to be altered, the transaction would take three minutes—I see about 100 persons in a day—I had never seen the man who brought the advertisement before—he had a black dress, collar and tie, and a low hat, he was not disguised—he had no whiskers—I never thought of the matter till the detective came—he said "Did you take an advertise ment on 17th August, the box number 1664?"—I said "Yes"—he then showed me a photograph and said "Do you think you could identify the the man that brought it?"—I said "Yes"—then he showed me three or four photographs, one of which I picked out—I did not notice any name on the photo, nor that the dress is a convict dress—I saw a number on the photo—it was a month after that that Frouest told me it was Cooper who had been convicted of forgery; he told me he should very likely want me at Bow Street—I identified the photo from the general appearance and the eyes and nose—I think the photo I picked out and one of the others were of the same man; I did not say so at the time, not until now—Froest did not ask me about it—I said "To the best of my belief this is the photo of the man," now I say he is the man—the photo produced is a facsimile of the one I picked out—I read one paragraph, "The arrest of the king of the forgers," before I went to the police court—I knew then that the man whose photo I had picked out was in custody—no other of the group was like the prisoner in person or in dress—the prisoner had no collar on, his clothes were respectable, he had a muffler—one man in the group was something like the prisoner-—I saw Lorrimer at the station, and told him I had come to identify Cooper.
Re-examined. The prisoner came at a slack time, and I was with him two or three minutes.
OLOF MAELSTROM . I live at 58, Charlotte Street, Portland Place, and let lodgings—on 19th August a man called, he had a muffler round his mouth and his hat very low down—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man—it was at 9 p.m.—he asked for apartments, and I showed them to him, three rooms—the gas was alight—he said "Should I want them, can I have them at once? I may call in the morning."
Cross-examined by. He was not disguised, but seemed to be suffering from a cold—he had a tall hat, and I believe an overcoat—Frouest came to me a long time after, and showed me two photographs, and said "A forgery has been committed"—when he showed me the first I said "I can't say that's the man, I am not sure I could recognise him"—I did not notice the name or number on the photo, nor the position of the hands—Froest came twice to my place—I said "I can't recognise the man," but when I saw the prisoner in the dock I thought he was the man who came about the rooms.
ELIZA MAELSTROM On 19th August my husband spoke to me about a probable tenant, and next morning a man called between 11 and 12 o'clock; the prisoner is the man—I let him in; he had on a black coat and high hat, and a muffler round his neck and over his mouth—I showed him into the parlour—he said "I have come to look at the rooms"—I showed them, and he decided to take them at 35s. a week—he kept his hat on; he took possession at once, and sat down, and said "If any one calls to see me show him in"—he gave the name of Sloane—I was with him about a quarter of an hour—he paid 1l. deposit—Lorrimer called shortly afterwards", and asked for Sloane; I showed him into the parlour—afterwards I let him in a second time, and I showed him in, and saw the prisoner standing between the folding-doors without his hat—I said "The young man has called"—he said "Show him in, and leave the room"—the muffler was not then on—the prisoner left about 2 o'clock holding a handkerchief to his mouth—he had a bag—I said "Good afternoon," and he said the same—I never saw him afterwards—Frouest afterwards showed me some photos—this was on 29th August—he showed me three or four—he had before called and asked if I had a gent living there named Sloane—I said "He took my rooms on the 20th, and left at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and I have not seen him since"—then he showed me the photos, and asked if I could pick out any one as that of the man—I picked out this one with the arms folded—on 10th February I saw a group of a dozen men at the station with their hats on—at my request the hats were taken off, and then I recognised the prisoner as Mr. Sloane—I knew his eyes and forehead, and the colour of his hair, grey.
Cross-examined by. I have talked this over with Frouest, and have refreshed my memory—I let the man in on 20th August—I don't remember saying that the servant let him in and called me; if I said so it was a mistake—the servant let him in on the 19th—I let Lorymer in the second time about an hour after he came the first time, about 1 o'clock, and showed him into the parlour where the prisoner was, without his hat and muffler—Frouest showed me two photos, and I picked out one of them; directly
afterwards he said "That's the photo of Cooper, the forger"—Frouest first showed me the photo with the arms folded on the day 1 was examined.
Re-examined. I picked out this photo with the cross on the back on 29th August, and the one with the arms folded on 22nd September on my first examination.
WILLIAM TINDALL LORRIMER I was seeking a situation, and saw the advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, and answered it to the office, and got a reply, and went to Maelstrom's with the letter—I got there about 12.30 o'clock—the servant let me in, or Mrs. Maelstrom—I was told to call again in 10 minutes; I did so—then I was shown in and saw the prisoner—I said "I have come in answer to the advertisement," and gave my name—he said "I am satisfied with your references, and will engage you; I am too ill to get out to cash this cheque, will you cash it for me? go to the London and Westminster Bank, at Bloomsbury, and get it cashed, and if any objection is made give them this letter," and he gave me a letter in an unsealed envelope and the cheque—then he said "Go to the Langham and inquire if Mr. Newling has arrived"—I did so, and was told Newling had not arrived—then I went to the bank (this was about 1.30 o'clock on Saturday), and got the cheque cashed—no objection was made, and I did not produce the letter—I went back and Mrs. Maelstrom let me in—I stayed in the hall as Mr. Sloane was not in—he afterwards came in, and I went into the parlour to him, and said "I have got the money"—he said "Put the letter and the notes on the table"—he had asked me before whether I had been required to produce the letter, and I said "No"—I had told him that Newling had not arrived—he said "Go again to the Langham, and inquire if there are any letters for me"—the prisoner was lying on the bed with his overcoat and muffler on—I went again to the Langham, and went back and said "There are no letters"—he then said "I am well satisfied with your references: I will engage you at 1l. a week," and he gave me a sovereign—he said "I am a very quiet man, and don't want my business talked about; I will write and let you know when you are to start on your duties; I am too ill to attend to business for a day or two, and shall very likely go to Leamington, and may want you to go with me"—I then left, and never saw or heard any more of him till I saw him at Bow Street on 3rd February, where I picked him out from 12 or 15—he had his hat on—Frouest had seen me on the Monday week after 20th August—I had seen something in the paper—I had communicated with the police—Frouest showed me five or six photos, and asked if I could recognise any of them, and I picked out these two, the one with the cross on the back and the one with the arms folded—I saw this latter one again before I was examined as to the extradition, and again on 3rd February before I picked the prisoner out.
Cross-examined by. I did not know the photo I picked out was that of a convict; I was told so on 29th August alter I had picked it out, and that Ralph Cooper had committed the forgery—I knew the face, fore head, and expression of the eyes—I did not notice the name on the photo, but I had been told that a forgery had been committed before I was shown the photo—I did not think that I was wanted to pick out the photo of a man who had committed a crime—two different females let me in—while talking to me the prisoner moved on the bed as if in pain—the prisoner came in three minutes after me when I returned from
the bank—the landlady let him in, and I followed him into the parlour almost immediately, and he went and lay on the bed with his back to me, and he was in the same room on my return the second time—I had read the paragraph about the king of the forgers before I was examined—a telegraph boy went in to the group of men after I had come out.
By a JUROR. I have no doubt I could have picked out the prisoner if I had not seen the photo.
PHIN HANS . I am a moneychanger, at 16, Strand—on 22nd August I changed three 100l. notes, number 05786 to 05788, and gave 250l. in American money and 50l. in English money, as I had no more American—I saw the man who came to me last week, when I picked him out from 25 others—the prisoner is the man—he said "I am going to America; can you get me any more American money?"—I said "I will get you some"—I did get 200l. more the next day, but he never returned.
Cross-examined by. He was not disguised—I never saw the prisoner in the police-court until I identified him—I had waited there about two hours before I went in and picked him out.
MR. GILL stated that ELLEN WARGRAVE, a witness for the defence, who was in Court, was obliged to return to France that night, and requested that her evidence might be now interposed.MR. FULTON objected to such a course being taken. The RECORDER, having consulted MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS, was of opinion that he ought not to receive the evidence.
At this stage of the case one of the Jurors was taken ill; the Jury was therefore discharged from giving any verdict, and on Friday, the 23rd, a new Juror was substituted; the prisoner was again given in charge, and the evidence as given above was read over to the witnesses, to the accuracy of which they assented.
JOHN WILLIAM MARSHALL (Re-examined). I produce a certified copy of the prisoner's account at the London and Westminster Bank—I have examined it with the original books of the bank; it is a correct copy. (MR. FULTON stated that this showed a balance against the prisoner of 236l. 19s. 9d. on 16th November, 1887.
By MR. GILL. I see a signature on 3rd August—I believe it to be the prisoner's—this of 22nd August is not his.
HENRY SIDNEY WARR . I am a stationer, and carry on business at 63, High Holborn—I have done so upwards of 50 years—I was very well acquainted with the prisoner—he had an office next door to me, at the opposite corner of Featherstone Buildings, on the first floor over a boot shop—he was there for two or three years—during that time I saw him constantly—I have an apprentice named Frederick Liver to assist me in my business—I had no one else assisting me last summer—he cook his holiday in the middle of August last year—he was away exactly a fort night; he left on the 6th and returned on the 22nd—during the time he was away I had no one else assisting me in the business—I think it must have been between March and June last year that the prisoner gave up the business in Holborn—when he gave it up he entrusted me with 11 cases of goods to take care of—it was some kind of sanitary paper for closet purposes—there was a larger quantity than I expected—he asked me if I would purchase them or find a customer, which I declined to do, as it was a larger quantity than I required—I said I would endeavour
to get a purchaser for him if I could—I told him he must write me a letter stating the terms upon which I must dispose of them, so that there should be no dispute—he delivered the paper to me personally—this is the letter he wrote (Read:"We will sell you the 18 cases of paper for 3 1/4 d. a packet net price, we wish to reserve about 20 packages if agreeable to you Faithfully yours,DALY AND COOPER. ") Those were the terms on which he left the paper—I don't remember his coming to me after the 10th of June—I might have seen him—I missed him for nearly a month, for five weeks after that; I did not see him for a month or six weeks after—I don't remember seeing him between the 10th of June and the time my apprentice came back; oh, yes, I saw him in the middle of August during the absence of my apprentice—the fact of my apprentice being away fixes the matter in my mind—I saw the prisoner in my shop; I was behind the counter—I have both a counter and a counting-house—the apprentice attends to the counter as a rule, and I have the counting house department—it was on a Saturday during the apprentice's absence that I saw the prisoner—I could not fix the day, but it was either the 13th or the 20th—I think it was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon—he said "I am going to America"—I said "Have you taken a passage?"—he said "No; I am going from here" (I presume he meant by that that he was going from the docks)," and I will write you from New York"—I said "What shall I do with the cases of paper?"—he said "If you can sell them I shall be glad; you can remit me the money, but as I shall be absent perhaps only for six weeks, you can keep it until I return"—I think some customer then came in, and he left—during the time he was there I observed him take out of his side pocket a small pocket-book while he was standing at the counter—I did not see him do anything with it; he merely took it out of his pocket and returned it to his pocket again—it appeared to me that he had a number of bank-notes, and I said "You are going well prepared," and he replied "What is the use of going without money?—during the time he was in Holborn he was always exceedingly well dressed in every way—there was nothing to excite any surprise at his having notes in his possession—I think I first heard of this forgery about four or five weeks after that Saturday—I met Mr. Keen, the manager of the London and Westminster Bank, in Holborn, and from what he told me I learnt there had been a forgery—that was about 6 o'clock in the evening—I made a communication to him then—when the application was made at Bow Street about the extradition, I made a deposition as to the handwriting of the prisoner—I have frequently seen him write—on 22nd September I laid an information as to the handwriting on the notes.
Crow-examined. I had seen the prisoner continually for two or three years; I bought things of him on two occasions—I don't know of his going to America in 1886; I was not aware of his being there for some months; I hear it now for the first time—I think he was in the habit of going to and fro frequently; I don't know it of my own knowledge—there was no disguise about him when I saw him—he dropped in merely when passing—it was in broad daylight—I saw he had a pocket-book and apparently he had notes, I saw the bundle; I could not swear they were notes, they appeared to me to be Bank of England notes; he had them in a casual way, and I saw them in his possession—he did not say to was going from the docks—he said "I am going from here, from
London," and I understood him to mean from the docks; he was with me a very few minutes; a customer came in and he went out—there was no apparent object in his coming in; I did not attach any importance to it whatever—it was, I think, four or five weeks afterwards that I met the manager of the bank, I think it was about the middle of September, that was about a fortnight, I should think, before I swore the information—I am quite certain my apprentice was not there when the pocket-book was produced—I did not know that the prisoner was going to America that year—I do not know that he went to America in July—I presume he started from the docks if he did go, but I know nothing about that—I know Miss Mason; I went and asked her for the prisoner's address—she was the manageress of the prisoner's business—that was after the detective had called on me; he called on the same week I think that I had the interview with Mr. Keen, two or three days afterwards—I think it was after he had called that I asked Miss Mason for the prisoner's address; I did that for the express purpose of getting it for the detective—no one told me in September that the prisoner had gone to America in July—I swore my information before the Magistrate on 22nd September—I think I was shown this photograph (A) of the prisoner; it was the one in convict's dress—I did not want the photograph; I knew the prisoner very well—I think I was told he had been convicted before I picked out the photograph—I was not examined before the Magistrate—I did not mention in my information that I had seen the prisoner in August—I was present in the police-court each time, four or five times I think; I took a great interest in the case—I had no idea that the defence was that he was in America at the time; I never heard it; Frouest did not tell me—I first knew that the defence was an alibi two or three days ago; I learnt it from the solicitor to the prosecution—I could not tell you the day, it was since Monday, it might be Tuesday or Wednesday; it was not yesterday; it was not before this case was begun; it was on the day of the hearing, I think—I was not in Court listening; I was out of Court the whole day—the solicitor took down my evidence—I remembered that I had seen the prisoner in August, a long time ago; I remembered it in September—I mentioned it to the detective in September and also to Mr. Keen, and to the person taking my information—my information was read to me; I noticed that nothing was read about that—until Wednesday no proof of mine had been taken—there was no written statement before I went to the police-court; I was requested to go there by Frouest—I expected I should be called as a witness.
Re-examined. I made a statement to that gentleman, the clerk to the solicitor for the prosecution, and he took it down in writing—it was not till I got into Court that I understood that the defence was that the prisoner was in America—the statement I made in September was only as to the handwriting.
CHARLES WILLIAMS (Re-examined). I produce these cancelled 50l. notes; they were paid in on 24th August; they are not endorsed; they bear the stamp of the moneychanger—there are a lot of figures upon them; I don't know what they are; I should say they were not put on in the bank—I think I can ascertain whether any of the other 50l. notes have been returned to the bank; it would take some time to do.
GEORGE CLULO . I live at 51, Belsize Avenue, Hampstead, and was formerly one of the firm of Charles Goodall and Sons—my connection with them ceased in September last, which had been contemplated for 12
months before—I now carry on another business alone—towards the close of 1886 I became acquainted with the prisoner, when he was in partner ship with a man named Daly, as Daly and Cooper, in High Holborn, in connection with the Palestine floral cards—the transactions were very frequently with me, and I have frequently seen him write—I constantly paid him cheques of Charles Goodall and Sons', which were countersigned by me—the signature "R. Cooper" on this promissory note is the prisoner's, to the best of my belief, and here are several cheques, all which I believe to be signed by him—the signature "R. Cooper" on this acceptance is the prisoner's, and the endorsement also—here is a letter, all in his writing, addressed to Mr. Callow, and another addressed to myself, which I take certainly to be his writing—this letter to the London and Westminster Bank, ordering a cheque-book, I take to be his writing, and this letter to Mr. Sidney Warr, signed Daly and Cooper, this invoice to Mr. Warr, and these receipts, and this last invoice—I am the person who gave him the introduction to enable him to open an account at the London and Westminster Bank—some months afterwards I knew the prisoner out of business, and must have told him frequently that I con templated leaving the firm—I saw him in June, 1887; he came to my place of business to tell me that he was going to America, and to say "Good-bye"—I have nothing to fix the date distinctly, but I should take it to be close to the end of June—it is likely that I had told him I should leave the firm at the end of June, the year ending June 30th—I used to see him at long intervals, perhaps a dozen times a year—he came to my house as a guest—I am now a maker of pianoforte actions—I had been engaged in the two businesses for six or seven months before I left the old business, which I remained in for general convenience.
Cross-examined by When I knew him it was the end of 1884, and in 1885, 1886, and 1887, during which time the business he was creating was I believe in every sense a genuine one, and he was an energetic man doing all he could to create a business, and doing a considerable business—I have no means of telling what his accounts were, but his transactions must have been with a considerable number of people—I believe he was not only an energetic man, but leading a respectable life—so far as I know he lived on the premises where he carried on business, and employed a considerable number of workpeople—I do not know that he had an agency in America—he went there in 1886, and was there some months, and took a stock of these cards there to sell—both in business and in private life I have frequently written to him, and he to me—I have a number of his letters, and he would have numbers of mine—most likely in business transactions between the firm and him the cheques would be signed by me, prior to 1887 certainly—I do not remember giving him any information as to what the name of the new firm of my late partner would be, but the name continued the. same—I have no doubt I wrote to him in 1886, and he to me—at the end of June or the beginning of July, 1887, he told me he was going to America to seek American goods for sale on this side, and take goods for sale on that side, pretty much in the character of a commission agent—I never knew that he had parted with his interest in the Palestine Card Company—he told me that he was taking his passage in a cargo steamer, and that the captain was a friend of his—he did not tell me that the name of the steamer was the Borderer, or that it was one of Adamson and Ronaldson's steamers, or anything
about it, or under what circumstances Adamson and Rolandson had given him the passage—I don't think he gave me the address where he would be—after he left I got a letter from him, dated "Off Dover," in which the Borderer was mentioned—this is it (This was signed "R. Cooper" dated July 4th, and stated that he should be at Boston from the 15th to the 20th, and afterwards at New York.) I wrote I think twice, once to Boston and once to New York, and I have got copies of my letters—this is my letter. (Found among the prisoner's papers, and addressed to him at Rivere House, and dated July 27th.) It was probably posted about the same date—I received this answer in August; I have not got the envelope—it is addressed to me, and dated 23rd July, from 353, Canal Street, New York—I had no special reason at that time to notice dates—I wrote again—this is my letter and envelope (Dated London, August 8th, from could to Cooper, 353, Canal Street, New York; posted in London, August 9th; New York postmark, August 19th.) I got a letter about the same date; I am not sure whether it was an answer or not—the next letter I had was one dated August 9th, from 2204, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia—I have not got the envelope; I got it before the 20th, because I answered it on 19th August: "My dear Cooper, I have your letter of the 9th from Philadelphia"—I have no doubt this is Cooper's writing—I do not think Mr. Callow wrote to him—I do not think I wrote a letter after that, but I received another letter dated August 19th, 2204, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia; I have the envelope of that (Philadelphia postmark, August 23rd, London, September 1st.) I have two other letters from him here written since his arrest—this signature "R. Cooper" on 21st July in the book from the hotel I should take to be his, and also this on 3rd August—this on 22nd August at the bottom of the page superficially I should take to be the same as the others—this on 7th September I do not identify—this letter of 22nd August is in his writing—it is to Miss Woodward there is no address on it—it has a dissimilarity; the general appearance is that of the prisoner's writing—the first part of it looks like his writing, I should receive it as his—this writing on the flyleaf of this book on August, 1887, is his writing to the best of my belief.
Re-examined I observe the last letter purports to have been written on 19th August and posted on 23rd August—I should not think this is written in answer to anything of mine (The letter was dated 2204, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia, 19th August, 1887, and stated that he had been ill, and was coming over as soon as possible, and hoped to arrive in time for him, and that he would write more fully unless he started at once. The envelope was dated August 23rd, 1887, Philadelphia, and bore the London postmark, 1st September.) I see this passage in the letter from the Borderer: "If Mr. Callow would send me a line to Morgan it would help me, no doubt, in arranging the agency with him"—I think he must have said something before he went away about wanting Mr. Callow to write to him, asked me to give him a letter of reference in order to secure the agency for representing the Morgan Company—the Mr. Callow referred to is the Martin John Callow of our firm—the date is 5th July—I made that communication to Mr. Callow—I do not know whether he wrote a letter or not—when I said the signature R. Cooper in the hotel book on 22nd August was superficially like his writing I mean from a general impression, a cursory glance, and without any reason to doubt it I should take it to have been his—that is what I think—I
am hardly an expert—looking at it rather more carefully now I should accept it as his signature.
By MR. GILL. The information as to the correspondence has been given quite recently to the police—I first gave information as to correspondence having gone on between me and this man after the receipt of a letter from Messrs. Wontner on 19th March—that was when my attention was first called to this correspondence—that is a letter asking me to bring those letters here.
FREDERICK LIVER . I am an apprentice to Mr. Warr, stationer, of 63, High Holborn, and I was so last August—I went for a holiday on Saturday, 6th August—I was not at business at all on that day—I returned on 22nd August at 9 a.m.
Cross-examined by. I know the prisoner by sight—I was there in 1886, I had no idea that he went to America in 1886 or last year—I heard nothing about it—I was first spoken to about the matter at the end of October by Mr. Warr—I have not said anything to any person as to the prisoner coming into the place and having notes in his hand, or saying that he was going from the docks, or anything of that kind.
Re-examined. Mr. Warr spoke to me at the end of October about the prisoner.
By MR. GILL. I remember these cases of paper being at our place—I do not remember the prisoner coming and speaking to my master about them—I have no recollection of any visit at all, of his coming at any time and speaking about the paper.
By the COURT. I did not see the cases of paper come, I only saw them when they were there after the holiday—I found them there, that what the first time I saw them—it was in the basement—I am in the basement nearly every day—anything to go down into the basement would have to go through the shop.
By MR. FULTON. I went for my holiday in August, not in June.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have been engaged as an expert in handwriting for 40 years—I carry on my profession at 10, Bedford Row—these documents (with the exception of this promissory note) were handed to me as containing the proved writing of the prisoner, at all events in some parts—I was shown the signature book of the London and Westminster Bank, containing the signature of Cooper, and I have a tracing of it—that contains the name of R. Cooper, and then Ralph Cooper, gentleman, 9, Beachfield Road, Catford—that is the full and ordinary signature—I was also handed the forged cheque for 3,670l.—I have compared this cheque with the whole of the writing purporting to be Cooper's, and in my opinion it was written by the same hand—the disputed writing was written by the same hand as wrote the whole of the cheque, endorsement too—I have reasons to assign why I come to that conclusion from the peculiarities of the writing, which I can point out if desired—on my oath I am satisfied (The witness pointed out to the Jury 17 instances of similarities between the writing on the cheque and that on the other documents.) I have examined these four signatures in the hotel register—the first, on 21st July, is most decidedly in the prisoner's writing in my opinion—the next, of 3rd August, is also a genuine signature, no doubt—the next, on 22nd August, at the bottom of the page, I doubt as to its being genuine, it lacks the characteristics that distinguish his signature—I won't swear it is not his, and I won't swear it is—it is written at the bottom of the book—it would not affect the
signature that his hand would not rest in the usual way, he could easily have a prop if he wished; besides, there are blank lines left, and I have noticed pages in the book at which blank places are left for a person desiring to sign his name—there is no blank on 20th or 21st August—the next is 7th September, I don't believe that is the prisoner's writing at all, I do not recognise it—I have not the slightest doubt that the forged cheque was written by Cooper.
Cross-examined by The cheque was given me as a forged one, and the specimens of Cooper's undoubted writing—I was employed to make a report in the ordinary way—I gave evidence last Monday here (Reg. v. Cooper and Burrell.) I gave evidence in a case last week before Mr. Justice Kay; we are going to appeal in that case—there was no Jury—Mr. Justice Kay thought all 45 signatures were forgeries, and I thought they were genuine; I made a report and gave reasons, they were written freely off, there was no hesitation or copying—I do not complain that there was no Jury—the Judge said nothing; in his judgment afterwards he decided opposite to me and to the banker who knew the signature—last Monday the Jury disagreed with me; I was ashamed of them, and I think his Lordship was too—I am not ashamed of Mr. Justice Kay—one of the earliest occasions when we met was when I gave evidence in this Court against Sir Francis Truscott—I began my evidence then by saying I had had 30 years' experience; I have had 40 now, or more—I and Mr. Chabot were on the same side—sometimes he was on one side and I on the other, not often—sometimes Mr. Inglis is on one side and I on the other; doctors, judges, and barristers disagree—I swore positively to the writing being Truscott's—Chabot was examined first; with two ex ceptions, every point he mentioned was in my report, and six others which he had not noticed—I heard that a man was called who swore he had written it, I was not in Court—in the case of Siemens the Judge and Jury did not agree with me—my opinion did not change—the writing of this cheque is disguised—I made no report of the dissimilarities, they ought to be all dissimilarities if a man had disguised his writing—there were dissimilarities here and there—it was departing entirely from his own writing—the body of the cheque is disguised slightly—the signature and the endorsement are different disguises, all to take off the suspicion of its being written by one person—I am much struck with the "o" and the "a"—I made no comparison of the forged cheque with Mr. Callow's or Mr. Clulo's, or anybody else's writing, to see how many similarities there were—the 22nd August signature in the hotel book I do not recognise, I cannot say one way or the other—I do not know what evidence is coming—it is not joined together, and the "o" has not got the peculiar catch—his bedroom was occupied by another person on the next night—that does not operate on my mind as to the writing, but he could not have been there more than one day—on the whole I don't think it is his signature—I should doubt it still if a man beyond reproach as to his respectability and position said he had seen him on that day, and that he signed it—I saw it yesterday—I did not form a strong opinion the first time I saw it—if a man is in good health his signature does not vary according to the time of day—an ordinary human being would not be affected by whether he could get his hand in a proper position to write at the bottom of the book, unless he suffered from rheumatism—if he wrote in the book with kid gloves, it
would not affect him from putting a flourish; I don't believe this is a genuine signature—a man's signature would not be affected by being the last in the book, unless he had rheumatism or D.T., or something.
HENRY KEENE . I am sub-manager of the London and Westminster Bank, Bloomsbury branch—I was not there when this cheque was cashed on 14th August—I saw it on my return—about five or six weeks after, somewhere about that, I met Mr. Warr in Holborn, and had a conversation with him.
Cross-examined by. I don't know whether any of these other notes have gone through; I have not seen any of them.
CHARLES WILLIAMS (Re-examined). Since my examination I have been back to the Bank of England to ascertain whether any more of these 100l. notes have come back—I find two more have been paid in; they are numbers 05785 and 05789, both dated 16th April, 1887—05785 was paid in on 8th September by the London office of the London and Westminster Bank—it has the name of Cook and Son written on the front, and the figures printed 23.8.87—05789 was paid in on 24th August by the Imperial Bank—there is a stamp on the face of the note, "American Exchange, "Ibelieve it is "449, Strand"—I looked at it through a magnifying glass—there is no endorsement except these three figures on the top.
Cross-examined by The figures are written in ink; they are not consecutive; they are 227325.
FRANK FROUEST (Detective Sergeant) On 22nd August, two days after the forgery, I was communicated with by Messrs. Travels Smith, acting for the bank—I prosecuted my inquiries—Lorrimer came, and was introduced to me by Inspector Glass a few days afterwards—I showed him these photos, including a facsimile of this little one from the same negative—he picked out this with the arms across as being the photo of the man that handed him the cheque—it is not marked at the back—I said nothing to him before I handed it to him as to any belief in my mind as to the person who committed this offence; I knew nothing at that time; I was working for a clue—I knew something of the man who had been picked out; I know more since—I knew that photo was that of a person known to the police before—I had information and went to Mrs. Maelstrom's place, and handed these same photographs to her—she picked out these two, and spoke very strongly of this one with the little cross on the back in blue pencil—both those are of Cooper—I should not say that this is in convict garb—after seeing Mrs. Maelstrom I saw Perks, the clerk at the Daily Telegraph office—I laid these same five photos before him, and he picked out this with the arms folded as being the photograph of the man who called there—on 22nd September I attended when the witnesses made their depositions to obtain a warrant—the little facsimile photograph was then used as the exhibit, and marked by the Magistrate to be attached to the depositions which were to go abroad—it is the same photograph—I made no deposition at that time—the matter was taken in hand by the authorities abroad, and I received the prisoner from the French authorities at Havre on 27th January, I think—I brought him over to England, and on Friday, 28th January, he was brought up, and formal evidence was given, and a remand taken till 3rd February—he was under remand various times till his final committal—on 3rd February I arranged with the
gaoler that he should supply some strangers and arrange with the witnesses to see the persons—that is all I had to do with the identification—I was out in the hall in the corridor—it was done in the ordinary course by the gaoler; I merely gave instructions.
Cross-examined by I saw the cheque at the solicitor's office; I received instructions there—I went to the bank—I got the photograph of Cooper with his arms crossed about the same day that we had news of the forgery having been committed; I got it at Scotland Yard—all these photos are of well-known forgers—that was before I went to the bank, and before I had been to the solicitor, because he called on us—after wards I had an interview with him—I then got five photos from Scotland Yard, two of them of Cooper—one of the clerks that kept the album numbered these 1, 2, 3; it is simply a note of the number—Cooper is the only man in this sort of dress; it is a photograph of a man taken in prison, in the clothes they supply him to go out into the world with; not a dress that would mark him—they take care that it should not be so; it is tweed or serge—I desired a fair identification—in the album we have some with names and some without—I should go and select good forgers, known of, and place them before the witnesses—there is nothing on these photographs to suggest that they are forgers—I noticed that this one of Cooper had the name and number and letter C on it, and the hands crossed—I did not do it with any object—there is nothing of that kind in any of the others—I should say this is a suspicious-looking face and appearance—the hands crossed are not suspicious; I should not know what it meant unless I was a police officer—I have seen some American photos with the names on them—all the others differed in all other respects—they were taken at different places—this is not the most important case 1 have had—I never knew the prisoner till this time—I did not know where he was in 1884, 1885, 1886, and 1887—I never knew he was called the king of the forgers till I saw it in a newspaper—Lorrimer was brought to me by Glass, I showed him the photos and he picked out this one—I did not tell him that was Cooper the notorious forger—I simply thanked him for picking the thing out—I did not tell him who it was—no conversation took place between me and him at that time about Cooper being a forger, but some few days after I showed the photo graph in the same way to Perks—I did not know at that time that he had pleaded guilty to forgery, and had done five years and come out in 1885, I simply knew he was a forger—I saw his name on the photo before Lorrimer picked it out—I might have shown the photograph to Lorrimer when I was taking him about with me—I don't remember showing it to the other man—I was not constantly showing it to people, and saying "That is Cooper the forger"—I did not take it to the Daily Telegraph or leave a copy there—I do not know how the manager of the Daily Telegraph got a copy—I had several copies in my possesion, I might have left one there by accident; I don't swear I did not, I might have, I don't know that I did—I have had control of this case—I arranged for the identification and for the people to be there on 3rd February—I knew they were going to pick this man out—I had seen him, and had brought him over—I did not think it well that in case of slip or acci dent they should look at the photograph again—I did not show it to any of the witnesses—I did not show this photo to Lorrimer before he went in to pick out the prisoner—I showed it to some one else—I was
in the same room with Lorrimer at the police-court—other people were in the room—I took the photo out of my pocket and handed it to Mr. Callow to show some friends or relatives—some gentleman was with him, he knew the man—it may have been in the room where Lorrimer was, it may have been in the corridor, I am not sure—there were a great many people there—more than a dozen—a great many people came in to see the king of the forgers—I did not think it out of my way to hand the photo to Mr. Callow to show to his friends—I don't know that Lorrimer saw it, or that he has said he saw it—he said at the police-court in my hearing that the very day he picked this man out he saw this photo before he went in, and I think in cross-examination he said it was after, I believe—it would not be the proper thing to do—I do not even know that I knew Lorymer was there—on 3rd February I had there to pick the prisoner out all the witnesses and a number of people from the City—I should think 30 or 40 came there about the case—I should think 14 or 15 perhaps had come to see if they could pick him out—I think it was in the presence of those 14 or 15 that I handed the photo to Mr. Callow—there were a number of people there other than witnesses—the City police brought a number of people there—there was nobody there but Lorrimer, Perks, and Mr. and Mrs. Maelstrom that I had seen—the telegraph boy is one of the persons I had seen—Mrs. Maelstrom was there, I cannot swear if Lorrimer was there or not—the telegraph boy is the only person I have not produced, all the other people were brought by the City police—I did not interview him—I gave the photo to Mr. Callow in the room, almost a small court, the barristers' room—I did not know how the man was dressed that day, I had not seen him that day, I did not see him till he was brought into Court—a note was traced to Donald Mackenzie, the telegraph boy; hit address is St. Martin's Le Grand—I showed him this photograph, the one with the cross at the back—the gaoler told me that the boy had picked out another man, but I did not know who—I got into communication with the tele graph boy on the Monday or Tuesday after the forgery—he had been sent to the Bank of England to change a 100l. note either on the Monday or Tuesday—I know that he met the man in Cheapside, who gave him the note, I believe, in the morning—the note was not changed; I have not not it—I last saw it in the possession of Mr. May, the chief cashier at the Bank of England—it had endorsed on it "G. W. Sloane, 9, Anerley Road, Anerley"—I did not have it in my hand, but Mr. May showed it to me; he is the gentleman who signs bank-notes—the boy was the only person who picked anybody else out—other people went in, but I did not go in with them; the City police went in with them—I went to Boulogne and fetched a large quantity of documents; I got them here two or three days or a week before the committal—a paper among them had a number of names on it and instructions to his solicitor—I do not know whether those were the names of the witnesses; I left it at Mr. Wontner's office—the prisoner had been detained some time in France before he was handed over to me—I saw upon this paper a number of names of American people and their addresses—I knew about three weeks ago, on the arrival of Mr. Birch, that the answer to this case was an alibi, that the prisoner was not in this country at the time, but in America—I was in communication with New York by cable—I did not know that he was going to New York till he was there; I knew the directions had arrived, but cannot give you the
date—I examined the papers found on the prisoner and the papers that Were sent over, to find the notes if I could; I was anxious to get evidence if I could—I did not go so far as to cut up his clothes, but they were examined at Scotland Yard by two professional tailors—the examination was most minute—these are all papers which were found upon the prisoner, and here is another bundle of papers. (These contained cards with the names and addresses of persons in New York, letters addressed to the prisoner from persons in London, and one from Cornwall, dated August 5th; a West Point Hotel bill, dated 11th September, for board from September 1st; a letter from London, dated August 12th, another July 7th, and another August 11th; a letter addressed to the prisoner at Canal Street, New York, stating that the Borderer started on Judy 2nd; other letters from New York hotels; a letter to Cooper, dated July 25th, from Middle Island, Toronto; a letter from Mr. Boundy, dated Judy 6th, and one to the prisoner at New York Hotel from Stroud and Co., dated September 10th, one dated Purley, July 26th, and signed "A. M. Mason "; a child's letter, dated Heatherlands, Surrey, 8th July, another letter from Heatherlands, dated August 12th, signed "Yours very faithfully, A. M. Mason"; one dated August 4th, 1887, apparently from England; one from Middle Island, Toronto, August 2nd, com mencing "Dear Mr. Cooper" and signed "Francis"; a letter from Macfarlane and Barrett, stockbrokers, Copthall Buildings, London, August 15th, addressed to "R. Cooper, Esq., at New York") I saw all those addresses, and had the opportunity of going to them, and I saw all these American addresses. (Other letters were here put in, one in a lady's writing from A. M. Mason, 2, Featherstone Buildings, September 1st; a receipt to Mr. Cooper, dated July 23rd, for a number of small articles; a bill from the same place to R. Cooper,16th September, for a member of books.; a letter addressed, to the prisoner at 253, Canal Street, New York, postmark Boropacio, dated August 12th, postmark August 13th; a bill of the New York Hotel, dated 27th July, for 22 dollars, receipted by R. Sant; another letter from Heatherlands, in a child's writing, dated September 29th, commencing "My dear Uncle," and a letter from San Francisco, dated August 16th, 1887, from M. M. Hill to the prisoner.) When I brought this man over I did not allow myself to be interviewed by reporters and did not give them any account—this I (produced) is the list of persons who it was suggested should be seen in New York—I afterwards saw this article in the Daily Telegraph, headed "Arrest of the King of the Forgers"; it appeared on the Monday—I gave none of that information nor any account of the trip across—Sergeant White travelled with us; I don't believe he gave it; he was with me the whole time—I suppose those details are all invention—a young fellow called at Scotland Yard and saw me, but there was a Paris edition of the New York paper—there is no foundation for this, the man asked me if I had anything to add, and I said "No"—this, "He is highly accomplished and knows several languages, and he was depressed when Ser geant White and I slipped the handcuffs on him," is all pure invention.
Re-examined. I do not know how it got in the paper; I am not responsible for it—Sergeant White has been in the force 10 years; he would not give it—I found a divorce decree among the papers, and a book with names and addresses in it.
Witnesses for the Defence.
Street, Mile End—I made the prisoner's acquaintance at the First Avenue Hotel, London, some time in 1886—I met him several times up to July, 1887—some time before he went to America, in July, he said he wanted to go across to the States, as his health was not very good, and his being very fond of the sea and thinking a sea trip would do his health good he wanted to go by a slow steamer—being in the American trade I told him I might get him a free passage by the steamship Borderer—I knew the owners of the ship, Messrs. Adamson and Ronaldson—I communicated with them, and I gave the prisoner a free ticket to go by the Borderer—I think she went from the Albert Docks—it would be correct to say that he was going from London—I think the ship sailed on 3rd July, 1887, quite early in July—I gave him the ticket about three days before the snip sailed—we started from the docks, and I went with him as far as Dover, where I left him on the vessel—I knew what his address would be—I understood from him that he was going on business—I wrote this letter to him the same day or the day after I left him on board—it is dated 6th July—he answered it, stating that the piano had arrived all right—I did not keep that, nor any of his letters; I never keep letters from private friends—in that letter I wrote to him at Rivere House, Boston—that is the first place the vessel would go to—his letter was dated from Rivere House, Boston—after I heard from him I wrote him this letter on 5th August; it is addressed from Cornwall, where I was at the time—the postmark is New York, August 13th—I do not know who Philipson is—the last time I saw the prisoner was when I left him at Dover—I come here to give evidence on subpoena—I came away with the pilot boat.
Cross-examined by. The letter which arrived at New York on 13th August was written to 253, Canal Street, New York—I had a letter from the prisoner after that, I cannot say if in answer to any remarks of mine—I got back from Cornwall on 24th August, and I got a letter from him after that—that was the last letter I received from him—I tore that up—it bore the New York postmark, and was written from Canal Street—I cannot clearly remember whether he replied to any remarks in my letter—in answering my first letter he said that I should address him the next time at Canal Street.
Re-examined. In the first letter of July 6th the name of Stroud and Co. was mentioned—I am perfectly willing to come here and speak the truth.
EDWIN MATURIN . I am a son of Mr. Maturin, professor of Greek at New York, grandson of Maturin the novelist and dramatist, and my cousin is Rector of Kennington—I am manager of the hotel at New York—I have been there about five years—the hotel is large, and my position is a respectable one—I reside in it, and am daily in the office where the arrival of travellers is registered—when a visitor arrives it is the invariable practice for him to write his name in the hotel book, to register, and an entry is made of the place he comes from—I have known the prisoner about two years as stopping at the New York Hotel—he stopped there on different dates in June, July, and August, 1886—I know him perfectly well as to his identity—I have often spoken to him—he first came there in 1887 on July 21st, 1887—I see his signature here; it was written by him—he registers from London, England—he stayed at the hotel that visit till July 27th I think—he next came on 3rd August, 1887—his
signature is here; he registers from London—I think he stayed six days then—he came again on 22nd August, 1887; he registered from Philadelphia—this is his signature here—I saw him write it—I remember his coming—I spoke to him—I have not the slightest doubt about his identity—I will pledge my oath he was there upon that day—he asked me if he could have his old room that he had previously—he generally had No. 440, a room fronting on the Broadway in front of the house—I looked to see whether it was vacant, found that it was, and told him yes, he could have it, and the key was given him—he wrote the figures 440 himself when I said he could have it—Mr. Newman, the cashier of the hotel was in the office when this took place—the prisoner then gave the key of the room to a boy to show him to the room as is our custom—afterwards he came through the office, and I asked him how he was—he had been ill, and this was the first opportunity I had had of seeing him afterwards—it is our custom to send round about mid-day to find out what rooms are vacated, and next day I found the prisoner had vacated 440—I did not see him again till he came, I think, on 7th September—this is his signature written in my presence, "R. Cooper, "Philadelphia, Room 519"—he registers as from Philadelphia—he stayed from the 7th to the 10th, and when he was settling his bill on the 10th I said "You were here on 22nd August, and your bill was not paid for the time you were here"—he said "Quite right, I was called away unexpectedly. By the way, here is your key; I will return you the key of the room"—he paid the bill; we only charged him for the use of the room—you can either pay for meals at the time or have them charged—the European plan is when you have a room without meals—this book is the transient boarders' ledger—we have another which we call the permanent boarders'—I find no entry under date of August 22nd with regard to the prisoner, but under date September 10th he is charged for a room August 22nd, one and a half dollar—when an entry is made in the register of the arrival of a guest an initial "E" is put against the name to distinguish whether he is on the European or American plan—that initial is against the prisoner's name on 22nd August—the European plan is that you pay for a bed only—when he paid on September 10th I told him he did not pay for August 22nd, and he paid for that at the same time as he did for the room for the three days—these are the original ooks of the hotel—we keep a book called the letter-forwarder, which is a register of the names of the persons stopping at the hotel, and the place letters are to be forwarded to them until a certain date—I find an entry on 6th August, 1887, "Mr. Cooper requests us to forward his letters to 2204, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia"—that is in my writing—I forwarded letters to that address from that time until I saw him again—I have not seen him since 10th September—when he was arrested I received a cable asking me if I knew Mr. Cooper and what dates he stopped with us—I cabled back—I received a letter afterwards in relation to the same matter—I answered that; after that I saw Mr. Birch, from Messrs. Wontner and Sons—it was a very difficult matter for me to come here—I have no interest whatever in this matter of any sort or kind; I come here at great personal inconvenience and expense—I had to put another man in my place as manager of the hotel—it is the first time I have been away for four years—I have had no vacation at all—I have no interest in giving evidence, except to give the facts.
Cross-examined by On 6th August he gave instructions to forward letters to Philadelphia—I think I forwarded three or four—I forwarded them myself—I continued to forward them till I saw him again on 22nd August—I don't recollect any letters coming after that—I believe the three letters were forwarded between the 6th and 22nd of August—I keep no record of that—Philadelphia was the only address given for forwarding letters—"Cooper R 519 arrival p.m. E," means "European plan, arrived after 12 o'clock"—"wish 2" means washing 2 dollars, and room three days 4 dollars 50 cents, then room, August 22nd, 3 dollars 50 cents—the prisoner's usual practice was to pay for his meals at the time—we have a large number of persons stopping at the hotel; it accommodates 400 to 500 people; they come at all hours of the day and night—I have general management, cuisine and everything—I see everybody who arrives when I am on duty; I am not on duty continuously—this book is kept on the counter in the office where they arrive—it is the first thing they do—it is left open, so that the moment a person comes with luggage he goes and writes his name in the book—persons are writing at all hours of the day—it is part of my duty to see them write their names—if a customer came whom I knew before I should see him write; it is my invariable custom to take the pen and fill it with ink and hand it to him to write—my hours are dif ferent, we have one long day and one short day—the long day is from 6 a.m. till 1 p.m., then I go to my dinner, and return at 4.45, and stay till 11.30—21st July was my short day—I came on at noon and remained till 8 p.m.—the prisoner arrived before 3 o'clock on that day—I know that, it being the first entry on that day; I should imagine he arrived before noon—I knew it was before 3 o'clock, because the next entry after that is marked "D" for "dinner," on the American plan—3 o'clock is one of our dinners—21st July is marked "a.m.," that shows he arrived in the forenoon—I could not have seen him write this, I was not on duty then—I know 21st July was a short day by the clerk's writing who received the prisoner on that day—the clerk wrote "440 E" in the ordinary course of business—if I were on duty it would generally be written by me—the general business is for the clerk to put it down him self—I am responsible for the book—there is no rule, nothing compulsory about putting the number down, but it is the practice when the clerk is on duty for him to do it; it is my practice when I am on duty to do the same thing—3rd August was my long day—there is the entry here, "Room 440 E," in the same clerk's writing that received him on 21st July—all the entries on 21st July and 3rd August are made by me or the clerk—I did not see the prisoner write that signature—I see by the transient boarders' ledger he arrived after 12 on 3rd August—his name is about the middle of the names on that day—that would indicate that he arrived after 12 o'clock—I ascertained on 23rd August that the prisoner had gone away without paying his bill—it is my custom about noon to send through the hotel and find out what rooms have been vacated, and among other rooms returned vacated was 440—22nd August was a long day—his entry is absolutely the last on the page—some days the arrivals do not fill up the page, and a blank line is left—there are three or four examples of that in the book—there is one on 20th August within one of the bottom—that is the end of the page and end of the day too—on 22nd August the figures 440 are not mine, but the "E" is mine,
I am sure of that; it is written over two little ticks; that does not indicate to me that the person who wrote his name put his name and two dots, and that I wrote the "E" in some time after—these two marks and the letter "E" were made at the same time, I pledge my oath—there are two dots there—I will not swear the whole entry was made at the same time, but I will swear to the "E" and the two marks indicating the arrival—the "E" is not written over the two dots, they are in the tail of the "E"—it means this, I suppose; our house is mostly on the American plan, and the entry above being on the American plan for dinner, the two dots were put there to mean ditto, and then it being Mr. Cooper, it was afterwards changed to "E"—the "E" was written after wards, I imagine the two dots were there first—I always look at the book directly I come down in the morning, and the chambermaid would bring me down, when I sent for it, information that 440 was empty—I then looked to see if the room had been paid for, and who occupied room 440—I had a long conversation with him when he arrived, as to whether he might not have his old room, and I gave him the room, and he wrote the figures 440 himself—we have over 600 rooms, and I could not re member for the moment who had it—the prisoner used to occupy 440 when he could get it—there is half a page of entries after his on the 22nd—my conversation with him took place between 5 and 6 in the evening—I looked and saw the prisoner had occupied the room; I had forgotten it, or I should not have looked—I made an entry of the fact that the room was owing on a piece of paper we have for such purposes, and left it on the bill clerk's desk—I have not got the piece of paper, it is charged in the ledger—there is no entry in the transient ledger for 22nd or 23rd August; it would not be the proper thing to do, it is not our rule to enter people on the European plan unless they stay more than one day—we never enter it at all then as a rule—I had no entry except on the piece of paper, we tear those up as soon as entries are made on the ledger—they are put on the bill clerk's file for future reference should the guest come again, and then he is charged, if not the account is lost—that is the practice of the house—the prisoner had never gone away before without paying his bill—persons very often go away without paying their bills—7th September was a long day—the prisoner arrived there in the evening—I made the entry "E there and the number 519 of the room—on 21st July, 3rd August, and 7th September, the number of the room is written by me or the clerk, but 440 on 22nd August is in the prisoner's writing—I saw him write this—the clerk puts the ticks who transfers them to the ledger—this was checked next morning—the tick means that it has been transferred to the ledger, or that some notice has been taken of it; it is checked by me to show I have accounted for it and made a memorandum of it—that would be made next day—he wrote "R. Cooper," and "440, "Imade the two little strokes and two ticks after he had gone to his room some time—we fill that up after the guest has gone—I am quite clear that I asked him what plan he was on—I may have been called away at the time and so not have written the "E" then—I cannot state whether I was called away directly he came or not—if not I should not have finished this at once—it is our rule to write the figures of the room, I or the clerk in my absence, and also the time of arrival—I did not write those—I think I must have written those figures
and those two little ticks at the time; I find I was in error, I wrote the "E."
Re-examined The blank pages in the book are the division between the letters "B" and "C" of the alphabet—before I could leave the hotel this book had to be copied out, so that I should bring the original with me—it took about five days and nights to do it—about 22nd August I was on duty all the time—I was without an assistant for 42 days, and I was alone, and on all the time except when I went to dinner and break fast, and then I was relieved for about 40 minutes—although that entry is at the end of the page, other entries of arrivals the same day follow on.
By the JURY. I knew the room was empty next day, because about noon I sent a boy throughout the house to the chambermaids to bring me information of all the rooms empty—the servant knew he was not coming back at night, because the prisoner had not slept there that night and had no baggage—he took the room but did not occupy it—I cannot say that the prisoner brought no luggage with him on the 22nd; I say the chambermaid reported that the room was not occupied—I saw him come to the hotel and sign this register on the 22nd—I did not notice if he had luggage with him—I knew him as coming to the hotel, and I did not take notice as I should of a stranger; we knew him well.
By the COURT. Philadelphia is 100 miles from New York, about two and a half hours' ride.
By the JURY. I cannot account for his not using the room that night—sometimes visitors come and make observations—they engage a room, go there, and walk off, and don't sleep there.
By MR. GILL If a visitor has a hand-bag he brings it with him, if not he gives us his express receipts for his trunks, heavy baggage.
PEREGRINE FRANCIS COOPER . I am an artist, and have lived at 2204, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia for over 40 years—the prisoner is my nephew—I saw him in Philadelphia in July—after he was in custody I received a cable from England, in consequence of which I went to the Colonnade Hotel, Philadelphia—I saw the register there, and answered the cable to England—after that I received a letter and wrote this one in answer—I stepped in the Colonnade Hotel on the way to the post office—I think it was 27th July I saw my nephew, the day he arrived—I think he stopped about three days then—he came to my house the 19th August, the night he arrived—he then had a little hand-bag with him, but not his luggage—he told me he had left it at the station—he came to me because if was late—he thought he would like to see me, and thought I might have retired—he went to the hotel first; it was 10 o'clock or a little past—he stayed with me at my house that night of 19th August, and the two next nights he stayed with me—he stayed with me during that visit to Philadelphia, and slept at my house three nights—he left me on the afternoon of the 22nd—I went to the railway-station with him; he told me he was going to New York—the journey from Philadelphia to New York takes two and a half to three hours, or two hours by the express trains—he came to Philadelphia again early in September; I think on the 6th I saw him—he stopped at the Colonnade; he was early enough to come out to my place after entering his name there—I don't think he stayed more than a day then—that was the last time I saw him—I saw him three times; the first time he stopped at the Colonnade, the
second at my place, and the third at the Colonnade—I got a cable, "cabled back," got a letter, wrote back, and afterwards saw Mr. Birch in Philadelphia, and came over with him.
Cross-examined by On the 22nd I saw the prisoner get his luggage from the bag room—he had one of those English travelling bags, I think they call them hunting bags; it was a pretty good size—he had an ulster; that was deposited at the railway-station too, and his umbrella and cane—I don't remember any other luggage—there were two parcels anyhow, that was the bag and another parcel and the ulster—he brought a little bag to my house, a kind of satchel—I did not see it open, and cannot tell you what it contained—my house is about a quarter of an hour's walk from the railway-station—during the time he was with me, from 19th to 22nd August, he went out walking occasionally; I went out with him—he went out at different times of the day, morning, after noon, and so on—he told me he had business—I did not go to any business with him during the time he was there—I don't know what his business was in Philadelphia that brought him there at 10 o'clock at night; he did not tell me; I did not expect him—he said without my asking him that he had left his luggage at the station; he gave no reason at all for that—I suggested next morning that he might as well fetch it—he said it was not worth while; he was not sure how long he would be there; when he got through his business he was going to return—I gave him what change of clothes and linen he wanted—he said next day he would go and fetch his luggage of his own accord—I said "You need not do that, "Iwould lend him some—I did not know when he was going to leave—he said he was going to get through his business soon; he did not expect to stay—I do not know what his business was—I live in my own apartments there; I have no wife or daughter—there is a servant who is used by the tenants and myself—the house is let out in flats, and the same servant does for the different flats—I do not employ her except when I want attention—she makes the beds, empties the slops, and does that kind of thing—she does not live in the house—I have a little apparatus to do the cooking; the woman brings what I want—she does not come after the morning; that would be mid-day or 10 o'clock; she does not return after that that day—I have lived in that house for 17 years—there is only one tenant in the house besides myself, he occupies five rooms, Mr. Osborne—he resides in the country—nobody sleeps there but myself—there are nine or ten rooms in the house—I occupy three, and some are unlet—Mr. Osborne is an artificial limb maker; he is there till late in the afternoon; he has lived there many years—he has three rooms on the ground floor and two on the third floor—we call the servant Elizabeth; she has been with him since he has been in the house—I don't know whether she is here; I have not seen her—my nephew stopped at the Colonnade in July, not at my house; he was there two or three days—he had never stayed with me in this house before; he had lived with me at one time—I have lived in Philadelphia oyer 40 years—he lived with me in 1861—I cannot call to mind how many times I had seen him since 1874 or 1884—he was at my house in 1886—he stopped at the Continental Hotel then—there was no other occasion in 1886—these last two years is the time I have seen him most—on 19th August he stopped with me—the hotels do not close at 10 o'clock—he said he came from New York—the Colonnade
is only five or six minutes' walk from the terminus at which he would arrive from New York—the hotels in Philadelphia are open at any hour, I suppose, and however late the hour might be there would always be a porter to take people in, and at 10 o'clock things are in full swing there, persons coming and taking refreshments—he gave me the reason that he came and stopped with me, that he was afraid I was in bed—he thought of stopping at Bingham's house, which is below—he said he was undecided whether to stop at the Colonnade or Bingham's, and fearing he would not see me that night he came directly out to my house in the hope of finding me up—he wanted to see me, I suppose, on no special business; he wanted to see me as his uncle—he has always shown fondness for me, to inquire after my health—it might have answered as well to do that next morning—I don't think so; it was a natural impulse to see an uncle—I remember the 19th August in this way; he came about 10 or a little later—we sat talking over an hour, and then he proposed to go out and get a glass of ale; we went out and took a glass of ale and some refreshment—he came back to my house and sat there till about 1 o'clock—it was 1; I looked at my watch and remarked "You had better stay with me," and I said "The 19th is my birthday, and you remember the most important and successful enterprise I ever entered into was opened on the 19th, my birthday," and I further remarked "It is one of my lucky days, you had better stay with me," and he laughed—I took a property on 19th August, 1860, and put up some large buildings and improvements, and it was the greatest success I ever had in my life, and it firmly fixed in my mind the 19th—at the station they give you a check for your luggage when they take it; I don't think there is any fee, but there are two tickets on a strap, and they take off one, a round brass thing like a coin with a number on it, and give it to the traveller, and the other is stuck on the luggage—I posted a letter for him next day after he came, the 23rd, in Philadelphia—he wrote some letters; I am not sure he wrote the very day he left, the evening before, but he left one letter on my table; there were papers there, and the prisoner did not see he had left one of the letters by mistake on my table—I discovered it afterwards, it got under some newspapers, he forgot it, and seeing the direction I posted it, went out and got a stamp on the 23rd and posted it—I saw the prisoner write it—I was there when he was writing, of course I saw him write it—that was one of the letters he wrote at the time—he wrote other letters, one or more I know—he posted them himself, he must have, I did not find them there—I only found this one on the table where he wrote it—it had got under some newspapers—my address is 2204, Chesnut Street—I think this is the envelope of the letter I posted—it was a little after 10 when he came to my place on the 19th—we went out after 11 and had a glass of ale, and sat up till 1 a.m.—I am quite sure he did not write any letter there on the 19th—he was in my presence from 10 o'clock on the 19th till he went to bed at 1—he did not write any letter that night at my house—he told me he had not been well; he told me nothing about his business; he did not specify his ailments more than that he had been in bad health—I never troubled what his business was when he was with me, I never asked him his business—I did not ask him about his business when he came back in August, I told him some of my business, I
told him about the lucky day and birthday—he told me nothing about his business in Philadelphia.
Re-examined. I have lived over 40 years in Philadelphia and am well known there—I remember in August last getting out a sketch for an engraving of a horse; I was preparing a copyright of an equestrian picture after an oil-painting, and I had a small proof of it there which had received a few days before, and I showed it to the prisoner; that was in August I am sure—Mr. Birch saw the place, and I showed him the original painting in oil and the large engraving.
ANNIE MASON . I live at George Street, Bloomsbury; I was manageress to Daly and Cooper's business, at Featherstone Buildings, from August, 1884, to October, 1886; after that Mr. Harman succeeded to the business, and I assisted Mr. Harman—it was the Palestine Floral Card business—I remember the prisoner going to America in 1886; he was there for some months, from April till August; during that time I regularly corresponded with him; I remember his going to America on 5th July, 1887—Mr. Warr's stationer's shop is at the corner of Featherstone Buildings; I remember his having in a package of paper—before the prisoner went to America he left instructions that the packages of papers were to go to Mr. Warr; I have more than once been to Mr. Warr's shop, not on any particular business—after the prisoner had gone to America on 5th July, I wrote to him, and received letters from him; this is the first letter I received from him. (This was dated Boston, 18th July, saying he had arrived safely, referring to Mr. Philipson's account, and stating that he feared it meant the sacrifice of the stock in New York.) I know he took stock out there in 1886; Philipson is our agent in New York—I answered that by the letter of 2nd August (This referred to the stock of cards, &c.) I received from him a letter dated from the New York Hotel, 26th July (This stated that he had received the book and something from Heatherlands.) Mr. and Mrs. Daly lived there; it is near Farnham in Surrey—I received this letter from him, Philadelphia, 9th August; I wrote to him myself from Heatherlands and Purley.
(The letter from Heatherlands, dated 12th August, mentioned that she had received a letter from him that morning; the letter of 9th August from the prisoner said he was glad she was going to Purley It bore the postmark of 8th August, Philadelphia.) I went to Purley for my health—I received this letter from the prisoner of 9th September (The postmark of this was. the 10th.) I did not see him after he left on the 5th—he went by the Borderer—there were two boys of nine and ten years old at Heatherfield.
Cross-examined by The letter of 26th July, 1887, was directed to him at the New York Hotel—I had that address to which to write to him—the letter I wrote to him from Purley would be directed there, and would be posted by me in time for the mail on that day; I suppose the letter would reach New York on 23rd August, the period of post is about 10 days—this letter is an answer to the one I wrote him from Purley; there is no address to it except Philadelphia—the Curtis code I mention in my letter of 26th July is a telegraph code; I had sent it at his request.
Re-examined The Philipsons' address is Cable Street, New York; I knew that address—I had the New York Hotel and the Philipsons' addresses.
By the JURY. I am no relation to the prisoner—before he left he told
me to write to Boston till 20th July, and after that to New York—he gave me the address, Chesnut Street, Philadelphia.
By MR. FULTON. I said in one of my letters on 1st September "I have a thought to keep a diary of each day; I think that the best plan, as Mrs. Daly can see it when she comes in, and it may be useful to you for reference when you return, but no one has called yet, and I hope I may have nothing particular to enter"—the prisoner asked me to be at the office, so that I could send him word—it was my idea to put down who called—he was very ill, and I hoped I should have no business to trouble him with; no one called hardly—Mrs. Daly was coming in from Heather field, and I told the prisoner everything.
JOHN CATTERELL . I live at 23, Park Grove, Battersea Park Road—I was present at Bow Street on 24th February, when the prisoner was there on this charge; he was in the dock—after he had gone out I was called out by Detective Tremlet to the back of the Court, and was asked to stand among some 10 or 11 men; the prisoner was one of them—I saw a man come in the room where I was; he gave a cursory glance round, then placed his hand on the prisoner's left shoulder, and said "I know this man; I have seen him before"—I had seen that man in the police-court before he came in to identify the prisoner at the back of the Court, when Cooper was in the dock; it was the witness Hans—I knew him afterwards on 7th or 9th March, when he gave evidence at the second adjournment after the 24th, on the day prisoner was in the dock, and Hans was standing on the left of the counsel, in the counsel's box, that would be to the prisoner's right as he sat in the dock; Hans would have a good opportunity of seeing him there—I came from the gaoler's room to the front entrance of the police-court, and made a statement to him as to what had occurred.
Cross-examined by I was at the police-court merely as an observer of the case that was going on, as a spectator, at the back of the Court—that was not the first time I had been there by a great number—I am in the habit of attending there when out of employment; I am a veterinary surgeon's assistant; I was out of employment on that day—I had been out of permanent employment from 6th January last—before that I was storekeeper in the green fruit department at the Junior Army and Navy Stores in Regent Street; I had been there three months; I left because they were cutting down the establishment after Christmas; there was no other reason—I was in casual employment between 6th January and 24th February, attending Albridge's and Tattersall's and doing jobs—I gave advice to people buying and selling horses at Aldridge's, to any casual buyer who was acquainted with me—I had been in business with my father—it is four years ago that I was a veterinary surgeon's assistant—since then I was practicing on my own account at 25, Upper James Street—I have done other work, private inquiry work, anything I could get to do; I mean private inquiry work for the police—if they wanted a job done that they could not undertake to do themselves I did it for them; that is, work which the Commissioner of Police would not allow them to do, private inquiry matter—I have been employed by Moser and Butcher; I have done several jobs for them—this was not the first time by any means that I have been one of a number to be picked out; I have done so to oblige the police, who know me, without any remuneration; I am paid for private
inquiries—I am a single man, and I live at 23, Park Grove, Battersea Park Road; I am lodging with my mother—I heard Mr. Hans give evidence at the police-court; I did not hear him here; I heard what he said then; he pointed the prisoner out—I knew at that time that he had seen the prisoner before—at that time I had nothing to do; I make it a usual practice to go to people who know me to see if I can get any employment—I was not a spectator there every day between 24th Feb rosary and 2nd March—I felt somewhat interested in the case when I saw this man identified, and I went there afterwards to hear him give evidence—I made a communication on that very day, the 24th Feb.—I also communicated the fact to Mr. Wontner two days after Mr. Hans had been in the box, on the Saturday after or following day, not that day—I saw Mr. Wontner there conducting the prisoner's case—I did not hear him say to Mr. Hans "You will find you are mistaken"—I did not communicate it to Mr. Wontner then, because he told the Magistrate that he was not going to call any witnesses there—I did not know who Mr. Hans was; I did not know what evidence he was going to give—Mr. Wontner was there and heard what he said—I thought it best to see them at their own office and tell them of it—there was no secret about it, because I spoke to a man in open Court when Mr. Hans was in the box—it was not Inspector Butcher from Scotland Yard who employed me; I mean Mr. Charles Butcher, the ex-detective—he did not get rid of me for falsifying his accounts; he did not discharge me for dishonesty; I left on my own account—I swear I was never charged with dishonesty by him or any one else.
Re-examined. I have been employed by Mr. Moser; he is well known at Scotland Yard—my father was veterinary surgeon to the police for a number of years; he was often at the police-courts, and I appeared on his behalf in many cases when I was in practice—that goes back for about 26 years—he has now retired from business—during the time Mr. Hans was giving his evidence I spoke at once to a person in Court—I did not know his name at that time; I have known since; it was Mr. John Turner—Mr. Hans was called at the very end of the case, I believe he was the last witness, and Mr. Wontner said he would reserve his cross examination—when Mr. Hans was giving evidence at the police-court I drew the attention of two persons in Court to him.
JOSEPH ITHEL BIRCH . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Wontner, who are acting for the prisoner in this matter—I had the conduct of the earlier part of the case—on 20th January I saw the prisoner in Paris in consequence of a letter—from communications made to me by him I sent cable messages to several persons in America to the names and addresses given to me by the prisoner—I received cable answers to those messages—I then wrote a number of letters to those persons, and subsequently received answers, which I have here—in consequence of the statements contained in those letters I was instructed to go to New York, and on 25th February I left England—amongst other persons I cabled was Mr. Maturin, of the New York Hotel, and to the prisoner's uncle—I got to New York on 4th March—I saw Mr. Maturin there and examined the visitors' books—I afterwards went to Philadelphia and there saw the prisoner's uncle in Chesnut Street—in consequence of what he told me I went to the Colonnade Hotel and there examined the register on different dates—I know the prisoner's handwriting—the books of the Colonnade Hotel were
produced to me by the manager there—I also saw Mr. Clark Merchant, of the firm of Merchant and Co., who are in a very large way of business there, and who have offices in London—I saw a Mr. Berryan Ansted, the president of a bank at New York, and had a conversation with him—I also saw a Mr. Patnam, of the firm of Messrs. Patnam and Sons,. who also have offices in the Strand, London—I also saw Miss Woodward, at Messrs. Dodson's, music publishers, New York, who made a statement to me, and gave me a book and a letter, which I produce, the writing in which is in the prisoner's handwriting—I had the matter before a notary, and certified by the consul, and I have those documents I here—I adopted the same course with regard to other persons whom I saw, persons whom it was impossible to come over—they verified their statements by affidavit, and I got the consul's signature to them—I saw a Mr. Phillipson, of Canal Street, New York—I had a statement from him and got it verified in the same way—my time out there was limited from Monday to Saturday—I have searched the register of steamers at Lloyd's as to the time they left New York in the earlier part of August—to be in London on 17th August it would be necessary to leave New York on the 6th—I also saw Mr. Cranston, of the New York Hotel, and Mr. Stroud, of New York—Mr. Netherclift has seen the letter I had from Miss Woodward.
HENRY CARNE . On 22nd August I was paying cashier at the Bank of England, and this 100l. note, 06671, dated 16th April, 1887, was brought for change for gold—I refused payment, as it was brought by a telegraph boy—I retained the note and referred to the acting principal of the office, Mr. Frith, and it was given into the chief cashier's custody till explanations had been given—it was endorsed "W. J. Stone," or "Sloane, 20, Derwent Road, Annerley"—it has been in the custody of the bank ever since.
ANNIE MASON (Re-examined) A number of people were employed in the business of the Palestine Card Company, nearly thirty at one time—a young woman named Archer was employed there; this is her address in this book in Cooper's writing.
FRANK FROUEST (Re-examined) The book has been in my pos session since two or three days before the committal, which was on March 9—I had examined all the documents then—it is not a fact that I did not disclose the incident of the telegraph boy, I told the solicitor everything that was material.
F. G. NETHERCLIFT (Re-examined) On the face of this 100l. note is written in pencil "W. J. Sloane, 20, Derwent——"—I cannot see the word "road"—I first saw it about an hour ago, and have examined it with the prisoner's admitted writing, and come to the conclusion that it is his writing, first by comparing the "A" in "Annerley" with the "A" in cheque No. 6 in the name A. Lawring, and with the "A" in "August" next in the "2" in 20 in No. 10; the up-stroke goes up slanting. (Pointing out other similarities to the Jury.) In this book, which contains the blank cheques of Goodall and Sons, the "&" is different in shape from the "&" in the forged cheque as far as the tail is concerned; it is a different shape altogether—there is no "&" made in this way in any of the admitted
writing of Cooper, because this is a printed "&"; it is type already made; you have got them made up, and you stamp them; you can get cards done in that way now instead of going to the price of engraving; and you see this is a different "f"; it is not the same type; they are both impressions from type.
Cross-examined by.The genuine cheque of Charles Goodall and Sons is not lithographed—I have been a lithographer 30 years—I have not seen a real cheque of Martin John Callow—the "For Goodall and Sons" on the forged cheque is not a good imitation; it is not properly reproduced, but this may have been done since—it is a fact that when you have a reprint of these cheques, when they are off the stone, you may have them set up again—I have not seen the cheque-book in use at the time the forgery took place—the cheque-book in use and this cheque-book don't tally; they cannot be from the same—this has been done for Mr. Goodall—the cheque-book is issued by the bank, and after they receive the cheque book this is added by some process—I have not seen any cheque to ground that upon—I have seen hundreds of firms' cheques where it has been done—there would be no difficulty in copying that if that was on the cheque as it is now; it is not even in the same coloured ink; one is a kind of dark purple ink—there is no remarkable characteristic in this handwriting; it is an attempt to write unlike the usual writing; it is studiously done—a man was disguising his hand at the time he did it; I say that distinctly—the man disguised his hand very studiously when he wrote it; I see that pretty well in every letter—I say it is the prisoner's handwriting carefully disguised.
Further evidence for the Defence.
ISAAC SMITH (Policeman E 75). I am the regular constable stationed at the front entrance of the Bow Street Police-court—I have known Catterell for three or four years—his father used to attend the Court as veterinary surgeon—I cannot say what day it was, but on a day he spoke to me as he left the Court with reference to an identification—he told me what took place—it was not exactly in the form of a complaint—he was laughing as he came out—he said "Damned shame; a man saw Cooper in the Court, and then went down and identified him." Cross-examined by I cannot say what day it was—Catterell is generally hanging about the police-court pretty well all day long as a spectator—he does not seem to have anything to do.
JOHN TURNER . I am employed at the Civil Service Stores in Tavistock Street—I was present at Bow Street when Hans the moneychanger was examined, about two weeks ago, and when he went into the witness-box and gave his evidence Catterel made a statement to me with regard to Hans; I have seen Catterel at the Court—I was in Court because my dinner hour is from 12 to 1 o'clock, and I generally go in there—I suggested to Catterel what he should do when he told me.
Rebutting evidence. THOMAS GLASS (Detective Inspector N) I have had the partial care and conduct of this case with Frouest—information reached me that Mr. Hans, the moneychanger, might be able to identify the person charged with this forgery, and Sergeant Frouest arranged the time he was to attend—Froest was away in France on the day Hans came, the 24th—I saw Hans arrive; I did not know him before I first saw him at the lobby at the back of the Court, where the prisoners go into the cells—he came
rushing into the Court out of breath from the lobby at the back of the Court, and asked for Sergeant' Frouest—it was somewhere about 1.15 o'clock—I said "What, have you come to identify?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You are too late now"—I had expected him of course—I had been in Court all the morning—at that time the prisoner had been brought up—on that day, the 24th, Mr. Clulo and Mr. Netherclift had been examined, and the case had been remanded—12 o'clock was the time fixed for the hearing—I was there at that time—the prisoner had gone down to the cells again—I was awaiting instructions from the solicitors, and Hans stood by my side for 10 minutes or more—there was some case of distress being tried, and after I had received instructions for next week I took him out to the gaolers' room, stood him where he could not be seen, and told him not to leave—an assistant gaoler was with him all the time, and the head gaoler occasionally—there was some delay, and then the identification took place—I was not present at the actual identification; I arranged for the men going in; Frouest being away I was the officer in charge of the case—I did not go in with Hans to identify—he went in, and came out—I was there a little before 12 o'clock—after the examination of Mr. Clulo and Mr. Netherclift Mr. Hans's name was called inside and outside the Court for the purpose of putting him as a witness, and he did not answer—the prisoner was then remanded for a week, and taken to the cells—I was in Court the whole time from 12 o'clock, and saw the witness come in at 1.15 o'clock—Hans was not in Court from 12 o'clock till 1.15 o'clock—I did not see him there, and when he came into Court he was out of breath, and had evidently been running hard—I was sitting by the solicitors' box—Hans was not standing on the left of the counsels' box during the examination that took place—he was there afterwards with me for some time after the prisoner had gone away—you were then conducting.the case as Counsel for the bank.
Cross-examined by I knew about this matter some days ago—I did not know Catterel would be called as a witness some days ago; I never heard of it at all—I saw Lorrimer's father and Lorrimer in the case after the numbers of the notes had been published—I was not present when the telegraph boy picked somebody else out; I heard of it—I do not know of the photograph being shown in the room where the people were waiting to go and identify; I was not there—I would not do that myself—Hans came from the passage to me, and stood by my side in the Court—he was in the lobby—he did not wait there some time; he came to the door; the under gaoler was behind him, and he asked for Frouest—when he came into the passage I did not go from him to the prisoner's cell in the same passage—I left about 10 minutes afterwards, and went to the gaoler's room with Hans—I did not go to the prisoner's cell when he was in the passage—the hearing was fixed for 12 o'clock, and lasted an hour or more—Hans did not see me, nor I him at 12 o'clock—he came to me as if in a great hurry at 1.15 o'clock—the identification was not till after 2 o'clock—he was not at the police-court two hours—he was in the gaoler's room very nearly an hour—from his going there till we got the men together, he would be there till about 2.30 o'clock—I did not see him there at 12 o'clock—I did not know him—I should not look for him.
By the COURT. I did not know Hans before he came to the police court, but I saw and knew him when he presented himself for the purpose of giving evidence—if I had seen him before that in Court I
should have remembered that I had seen him—I should not have forgotten him—I had a lot of trouble with him.
RICHARD DAVIS . I am managing clerk to Travers, Smith, and Braith waite, solicitors for the prosecution—I have had the general conduct of this case—I attended to instruct Counsel on each of the remands before the Magistrate, which were always at 12 o'clock—on 24th February I was there when Mr. Clulo and Mr. Netherclift were examined as witnesses—I had arranged for Hans to be in Court at 12 o'clock—I had seen him before to arrange about his evidence, and had arranged with him to be there at 2 o'clock in the day—the case came on about a quarter-past 12—Mr. Clulo and Mr. Netherclift were examined, and then I heard Hans called—I was looking about the Court after him myself—I was sitting in the Counsel's seat by the door—if he had been in Court I must have seen him, because I was looking so anxiously for him to be there—I had seen the man two or three times; I knew him very well, and I knew he was a man we could not get there without some degree of compulsion—Hans was called inside the Court; I cannot say about outside—as he could not be found, application was made to adjourn the case till Friday, and the prisoner was removed—I remained in Court, and about a quarter to 1, when I was coming out of the Counsel's box by the corner, I saw him—I said "Mr. Hans, it is about a quarter to 1; you ought to have been here; you are too late; it is all over"—the prisoner had been removed—Hans was at the box inside the Court, just by the door where the prisoner's go out—he said "I have been waiting; Sergeant Frouest was to have been with me at half-past 12, and he did not come"—I said "You have nothing to do with Sergeant Frouest; I told you to be here at 12 o'clock"—after that he went in for the identification, and I waited outside more than half an hour, because I had asked him if he would tell me whether he identified the prisoner, so I suppose he was there till half-past 1 or a quarter to 2—I don't think the examination on 24th February lasted an hour—Mr. Netherclift was not examined in detail at the police-court; he was not Cross-examined by.
Cross-examined by I think I first communicated with Mr. Hans on the subject of giving evidence in this case on 22nd or 23rd August, as soon as I discovered he had changed—I did not inform him of the first hearing at the police-court, or communicate with him as to the prisoner's arrest; I left that to Frouest—I had no communication—I did not take a.proof or notes of the telegraph boy; I took notes that Frouest told me—I was not present when the telegraph boy was at the police-Court.
GUILTY . A previous conviction of felony was proved against the prisoner.— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. MEAD and C. MATHEWS Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.
Stratford—I now live at Elizabeth Road—my mother is landlady of that house—in June last year the prisoner came to lodge there, and brought with her two little boys; the eldest was about 18 months old and was named Bertie Morris Aston, and the younger was about four months old, and was named Frank—she gave her name as Styles, and said her husband was a commercial traveller, and was seldom at home—she had a front room, a kitchen, and a scullery, and paid 3s. 9d. a week for them—she continued a lodger at that rental up to the 20th February—in the first part of the time a letter used to come for her with regularity about once a week, and after she had received it she used to pay her rent—she told me that these letters were from her absent husband—shortly before Christmas, however, the letters came irregularly, and then ceased—she had had no money for three weeks previous to the 18th February, and had got in debt, and was very much pressed for money—she owed five weeks' rent, a baker's bill, and a doctor's bill—the children were ill, and she had had the doctor to them—she owed me 12s., which I had lent her—I also gave her food, knowing she was in great want—on Saturday, 18th February a letter came for her, and I saw her with it in my mother's bedroom; she was crying—there was a postal order in it for 1l—she said "He has only sent me 1l. There is not a word of sympathy. He has taken no notice of the three letters I have sent him"—she had been waiting a fortnight expecting something—that is the letter. (Read Addressed to "Mrs. Styles, 36, Whitfield Road, Upton Park. My darling,—Just a line to hope you are all well I am so sorry I could not send it before; I have not had it my possession 10 minutes. Will write on Monday Hoping you are getting on pretty well, ever your loving Jack.") I advised her to go and see the writer of the letter on the Monday, and she said "Yes, ill as I am, if Mrs. Scrivens comes round to-morrow I will ask her to mind the children on Monday, and I will go to him"—Mrs. Scrivens was a former landlady of hers—the prisoner was very much disappointed and distressed at the letter—she had been complaining for some days past of acute neuralgia in the head, and of a weight on the top of her head—her face had been very much swollen, and she had had to wrap something round it—she also complained of a sore mouth and of a constant pain in her back—I do not know what was the cause of that, but I know she had been up with the children for a fortnight, and that her rest had been disturbed—from what I could judge of her she was very ill—she had nursed the children day and night, giving them the most tender care, and never leaving the house all that time—she was completely worn out—she was a most devoted mother to the children—aboutmidday on Sunday I supplied her with dinner for herself and children—on the Saturday evening I had gone to her bedroom and asked her if I could get her in something for Sunday, and she said "No, thank you, Miss Jones, I will take a pint of milk of the milkman in the morning"—the room was then in darkness, but she was lying in bed with one child each side of her—that was about 11 o'clock—she remained very ill on the Sunday, but she was up and attending to the children—the last time I saw her on the Sunday was after the morning service, when my sister took her some dinner—she was then in the same condition—the next time I saw her after that was between 7 and 8 on the Monday morning—I came down then to light the kitchen fire, and found her sitting upon the sofa—she was fully dressed, with her boots
on, and had a shawl thrown over her head and shoulders—I started at seeing her, and said "Oh, Mrs. Styles, how you did frighten me"—she said "Oh, Miss Jones, I have killed my two dear little children"—I was alarmed at that, and called to a lodger, Mr. Boocock, who came into the kitchen shortly afterwards—I then said in his presence "Mrs. Styles says she has killed her children"—Boocock said to her "Surely you have not, Mrs. Styles?" and she made some reply in the affirmative, I do not remember the exact words—she seemed to be in great grief at the loss of her children, and was crying, but beyond the grief for the loss of the children, I don't think she seemed to think she had done any thing criminal in destroying them—the three of us then went up into her bedroom and saw the two children lying on their backs dead, one on each side of the bed—all the bedclothes had been taken off the bed, with the exception of a sheet, and the prisoner pulled that down and exposed the bodies—I noticed some marks of blood about the mouth of the younger child—she then said to Mr. Boocock "Oh, Mr. Boocock, I am not married, and I knew if I went to that man this morning he would not give me any money"—Boocock said "Whatever made you do it?"—she said "I was mad, I was mad; I felt such a weight on the top of my head, something impelled me to do it"—she also said she had strongly been tempted to take her own life, but something said "Don't"—Boocock then asked her "How did you do it?" she said "I tried to cut Frank's throat with a knife, the knife was blunt, and seeing the blood, I put my hand over his mouth and kept it there till he died; he was not long in dying; I used the bedclothes to Bertie, he took a long time to kill, he struggled so"—I understood her that they were not sufficient, and she used a pillow—during the time she mast making this confession she was in the greatest grief, and was seated upon the bed, and crying all the time—beyond the grief for the loss of the children she did not seem to think she had done anything criminal in killing the children—that (produced) is the knife she used—I attended to the children, and then went downstairs and the prisoner followed—a doctor was then sent for, and a constable arrived a short time after.
Cross-examined by I saw very little of the prisoner on the Sunday—she had complained on the Saturday about her head—when I and Mr. Boocock went up into the room with her she did not seem to realise the crime she had committed.
NATHANIAL BOOCOCK . I was a lodger at 36, Whitfield Road, on 20th February—on the morning of that day I went into the prisoner's bed room with Miss Jones—I said "What time did you do it, Mrs. Styles?" and she said "I killed Frank about 3 o'clock, and Bertie died a little before 5"—I went and fetched Dr. Anderson; he arrived there before Dr. Bass—I had been to a policeman first, and he told me to fetch a doctor.
Cross-examined by When I asked her what she did it with she said first "I was mad, I was mad," and then she said "Oh, my pretty little dears, my pretty little dears"—when I went into the room I said "Surely you have not killed them?"—she said "Yes; they have been dead for some hours."
GEORGE STAZLER (Policeman K 190). On the morning of 20th February I was called to 36, Whitfield Road, and there saw the two dead children lying on the bed in the bedroom—I then saw the prisoner downstairs,
and said "Is your name Styles?"—she said "No; the truth must come out, my real name is Aston; Styles is a fictitious name; my mother's maiden name was Styles; I am not married"—I said "Are you the mother of these two children?"—she said "Yes"—I said "I shall hare to take you in custody and detain you here till the inspector arrives; you need not say anything, but if you do, whatever you say I shall take down in writing, and it may be used in evidence against you"—she replied "I had a pressure on the top of my head; I thought that I must do it; oh, the two little dears, to love them as I did, and then to take their lives; I was mad; I must have had artificial strength to have done it; I tried to cut the baby's throat, but finding the knife was too blunt I put my hands over his mouth, and he soon died; the other one was so strong; he did struggle so; he was a long time dying; I might have had the quilt in my hand at the time; I know that I was mad; after I found they were both dead, I thought to myself,' shall I take my own life? no, I must not do that; it is wrong;' I then went down into the kitchen and sat down"—she also said she had been suffering night and day from neuralgia for the last three or four days.
LOUIS EADY (Police Inspector at Ilford) On 20th February I went to this house and saw the dead children, and then the prisoner—she said the eldest child was registered as Bertie Morris Styles and the younger as Frank Morris Styles—she said that Styles was her mother's maiden name, and that that was not the true name of the children—she said the father's name was John M. Morris; she did not know his second name, and that he was in business at Stephen Evans', Old Change Buildings, City; they are wholesale mantle-makers—the prisoner was employed there as forewoman in the workroom for about 14 years, and left about October, 1885—during all that time, for the last 16 years, a man was employed there named John M. Morris; he was foreman of the factory—he was there until the time of the murder, but has left now, and I have not been able to ascertain his whereabouts—I took possession of this knife, which I found in the room—I also saw a pillow without any covering, but I did not take possession of it, as I did not know of the evidence connected with it—in my hearing the doctor said to her "What is the reason?" and she replied "Want; I owed Mrs. Jones money; I could not get any; the father would not send any"—I then took her in custody to the station—she afterwards handed me three letters—these (produced) are two of them, and said they were from the man Morris—the firm authorise me to state that Morris was receiving between 200l. and 300l. a year.
Cross-examined by I have made inquiries about a Dr. Gurney, who attended the prisoner's sister Louisa, but have been unable to find him—I was informed she had suffered from a weak mind, and I tried to find the doctor to obtain his evidence as to that.
THOMAS ANDERSON . I am a registered medical practitioner practising in Queen's Road, Plaistow—on the 20th February I was called to 36, Whitfield Road, and went there with my assistant—I went into the bed room upstairs, and there saw the bodies of the two children; they were both dead and cold—I noticed that there was a wound upon the neck of the younger child, and blood upon its mouth—it had cut through the skin, and ran parallel to the collar bone—it was such a wound as might have been caused by this knife—I did not examine the child further; I
confined myself entirely to observing that it was dead—the same also applies to the elder child—on 22nd February I made a post-mortem examination of both the children, and came to the conclusion that they had died by suffocation; I could account for no other cause of death—I have heard the account which the mother gave of how the children met with their deaths; that was consistent with what I saw—I saw the prisoner in the kitchen on the 20th, about 9 o'clock, she seemed very weak and much agitated, and greatly distressed—I formed an opinion then as to the state of her mind, and considered her to be insane—she did not seem to comprehend the position in which she had placed herself by this act—I asked her how it came about, and then she gave me the account which has been spoken to—she gave a circumstantial account of how it occurred, but did not seem to realise her position—I have heard that she had been suffering from neuralga; that would undoubtedly account for the pressure on the head—want of rest and want of food would contribute largely to an attack of insanity—I have also heard that she complained of a pain in the back—I thought that was caused by getting up of a night and nursing the children—that would also tend very much to the upsetting of her mind—judging from her state of health before the murder of the children and her behaviour afterwards, I think it very likely that at the time she did this she was suffering from an uncontrollable impulse—I think it was a condition of moral insanity.
By the COURT. At the time she committed these acts I do not think she was in such a state of mind as to appreciate the nature and character of the act she was doing, and if she did appreciate the nature and character of it she was not aware that what she was doing was wrong.
CHARLES WILLIAM BASS . I am Divisional Surgeon attached to the K Division of Police—I saw the prisoner in custody on the 20th February, eight or nine hours after this had occurred; she then seemed to be totally insensible to the gravity of the crime with which she was charged, and totally regardless of the effect of it on herself—she told me that she had a sister Louisa who had been insane—I did not hear that the prisoner had some derangement of the kidneys—the question was put to me at the police-court whether a disease of the kidneys would derange the mind; it would upset the mind—looking at the whole case I am of opinion that at the time this was done the prisoner was certainly suffering under an uncontrollable impulse to kill, and therefore was not conscious of the nature and quality of the act which she was committing, or conscious that what she was doing was wrong.
Cross-examined by I have been Divisional Surgeon of Police for seven years, and during that time cases of insanity have frequently been brought under my notice—I have studied the matter and read the well-known authorities on it—there is such a form of madness as homicidal mania that would come on very suddenly.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway—the prisoner has been in the infirmary there under my care since the 21st of February—while she has been there she has been perfectly sane—I have heard the whole of the evidence in this case, and have heard the questions which were put to Dr. Anderson; I entirely agree with his answers.
By the COURT. She might be insane at the time the deed was done,
and then it might pass over and leave her apparently sane soon after—at this moment she is perfectly sane.
GUILTY, but not responsible at the time she committed the act. She was also given in charge upon another indictment, and also on the Coroner's In quisition, for the murder of the other child, upon which the JURY found the same verdict .— To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MESSRS. TICKELL and HUTTON defended Cooper.
GEORGE CASTLE . I live at 49, Victoria Dock Road, Canning Town, and am a provision dealer—I have seen Burrell on several occasions—on 27th January, about 5 p.m., he called at my shop, and asked me if I would be kind enough to change this cheque (produced) for him—I said "No; it is not convenient"—he said "I have some men waiting outside for their wages, and it would be a great convenience to me if you would do so"—I ultimately changed it, giving him 10l. for it—I paid it in to my banker's next day, and it was returned, marked "Signature differs"—on 2nd February I saw Burrell close to his own house, in the morning I think—Sergeant Dicker was with me—I said "I have called in reference to this cheque; it appears to be a fraud"—he said he had received it from Mr. Leader for work done—I then said "Then no doubt you will have the cash returned to you from Tate's Institute," or something to that effect—Dicker had possession of the cheque then—Burrell called on me the same evening; he was very anxious respecting it—he said it was a very unfortunate thing, for Cooper had absconded, or something to that effect—he said "Mr. Leader handed the cheque to Copper, and Cooper handed it to me, and Cooper has absconded"—I think he said my money would be all right, and I had no doubt at that time that it would be—I saw him again on the Thursday, and on the Saturday evening he called on me and said "I have 3l. in my pocket if you will take it in part payment of the cheque"—I said I had every reason to believe it was a fraud, and the matter was in the hands of the police—that was all that took place.
Cross-examined by Burrell. When you called on me on Monday after noon I agreed with you that you should pay the money back by the following Monday—I may have said "I am never too busy to take money"—when you said "If I get it by Saturday I suppose you will be too busy to take steps in the matter, "Isaid you were to see Dicker and come with him to my shop.
FREDERICK DICKER (Detective Sergeant). On 31st January I received information from Mr. Castle, and on 2nd February I was with Mr. Castle and saw Burrell—after Mr. Castle spoke to him I said Mr. Castle had no reason to believe that he had come by the cheque dishonestly, that he had placed the matter in my hands, and I wanted him to assist me to make inquiries about it—he said "He is a Christian man and would not do anything wrong; Mr. Castle knows that; I received the cheque for work done for the Building Society"—it is the Canning Town and Silvertown Building Society held at Tate's Institute—I asked him who I had better see—he said I had better see the secretary, Mr. Leader—I said "Where can I see him?"—he said "I don't know his private address, but you could see him at the office to-morrow morn
ing"—I made an appointment with him to meet me there the next morning—I said "In the meantime you try and find Mr. Leader's private address"—I left him that day—the following day I met the prisoner as appointed—he said "I am very sorry Mr. Leader cannot meet you this morning, but he will meet you on on Monday morning; he says that I shall not lose the 10l.; the Society will make it good to me; that is not the only cheque that Cooper has put off"—I saw Mr. Leader on the Saturday, and on the Monday, the 6th, or Tuesday, the 7th, between 7 and 8 p.m. at his address, Howard's Road, Plaistow, where I saw Burrell too—I said to Burrell that I should take him into custody for uttering the cheque, knowing it to be forged—the prisoner's father was present and he said "I will tell you all about the cheque; my son found it in Cooper's house after Cooper had left"—the prisoner Burrell said "That is right; I wish I had told the truth, and given it to Mr. Leader"—he was taken to the station and charged again; he made no reply—he was searched, and I found on him these letters, marked "A, B, and C," and these envelopes, marked "A1, B1, C1." (The letters were read That of 22 nd November said that Burrell must make an effort to let Cooper have cash in the morning, as he was hard up; and that if he could do nothing for him he must tell Mr. Leader his position in the morning; that marked "B" asked Burrell to make a binding arrangement to repay Cooper, as he was really pressed for cash, and said that when he let him have 3l. he assured him there was no fear of his not having the money at once.) I went to Cooper's house on 20th February at half-past 11—I got to the top floor of the building and knocked at the door—I should think Cooper could have heard what was said—I got inside the room, a bedroom, and said to Mrs. Cooper "I want you to be candid; is Mr. Cooper here?"—she said "No"—I took a lamp and looked under the bed—I there found the prisoner Cooper partly dressed—I said "Come out; I want to speak to you"—he came out, and I told him I held a warrant for his arrest, and read the warrant to him; it charged him with forging a cheque—he said "How do you prove I forged it?"—I conveyed him to the station, and on the way he said "How does Mr. Castle prove that I forged the cheque?"—when charged at the station he made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. This was half-past 11 at night—I and another officer went to the fourth floor of the house—we knocked at the door, and said we were police officers, after they asked who we were—I told them I had got a warrant; they did not ask it—the wife let me in after I had waited five minutes—she asked to be allowed to dress herself before she let me in—the bedroom adjoined the kitchen—I went into the kitchen first, I should say—the kitchen door was open when I went in—you are obliged to go into the kitchen first before you get to the bedroom—the prisoner was in the farthest room from the door.
Cross-examined by Burrell. I did not see you on the Monday—it was the 2nd that I accompanied Mr. Castle to your house—you agreed to meet me next morning at Plaistow Police-station; you met me there—you did not tell me you had made an agreement with Mr. Castle about the cheque—I accompanied you as far as the top of Victoria Dock Road, and told you to wait there while I went over to the railway-station—when I came back I told you Mr. Castle had gone away in a 'bus, and you were to meet me at half-past 6 at night.
that carries on business at Tate's Institute—Cooper was in my employment as assistant clerk—he came into my employment in August last, and was suspended on 14th January, and has not been in the office since—he lived in one of the houses on the Company's estate at Silver town, and he moved from there on 21st January—Burrell was in our employment as painter and paperhanger—after I had examined the accounts I passed them on to Cooper to pay—he would pay Burrell his wages—I did not give this cheque to Cooper to pay to Burrell; I never saw it—I did not see Burrell on 2nd or 3rd February—I did not say to him that I would meet Dicker at the office of the Institute—I did not say to Burrell that he would not lose the 10l., that I would see that the Society made that good—after Cooper left the estate I went to his house with Burrell on 25th January, I believe it was—I sent him through the window to open the door; there was no key—he was only in there two or three minutes before I was in there—I did not see him pick up a cheque while he was there—these two letters Ac and B and the two envelopes A.1 and B.1 are in Cooper's handwriting—C and C.1 are in my writing—I don't know the handwriting of the cheque at all—it is not one of the Company's cheques.
Cross-examined by Burrell. While you were in the house I was on the doorstep—I had something to do with the builder—it was only a few minutes.
BARON TOBIN . I live at 128, Mile End Road—I am a Queen's tax collector—this is a cheque on my bank, the London and South-Western Bank, Stepney branch—the number on it corresponds with my cheque book; it has been taken from this cheque-book; it was the last but one in the book—the counterfoil has gone as well—I had this cheque-book in my possession prior to August last—Cooper was in my employment then, or rather in the employment of the firm, of which I am a member, and in the office where I kept this cheque-book—I might have kept this cheque-book on the table, so that the prisoner could have access to it—this cheque is not signed by me—the signature is very much like one of my signatures, the one I use for giving receipts to the public as a tax collector—it is not like what I use for cheques, quite different—while Cooper was in my office he would have had the opportunity of seeing my signature to the receipts thousands of times—he would have the opportunity of seeing my signature to cheques very seldom—the signature and filling in are like Cooper's handwriting; it is disguised—some of the letters in the endorsement are like his writing—we missed three cheques from the firm's cheque-book, but I did not miss any from this book before this cheque was presented to my banker's—after it was presented I missed two cheques from my book—I did not myself tear them out; I don't know who did.
Cross-examined by The firm I was with had four clerks with Cooper in August—I think it was in August he left—I sign a great many cheques for the firm's business and my private business—in the ordinary course some of those cheques would go into the clerks' hands—I have two signatures, one for receipts and one for cheques; they are unlike each other, and easily distinguishable—the body of the cheque resembles the prisoner's disguised handwriting—I don't think I said before the Magistrate that I could not say who wrote the body of the cheque—I may have said I did not know about the body; I have compared it since
with his handwriting—I have strengthened my opinion by comparing it since the police came with other documents in his handwriting—I have this large document that he wrote—this signature is somewhat similar to my writing, but it is too clear; the "2" and "a" are not like mine—the "2" is like that in his document in the word "purchasers"—that is the ground on which I have come to the conclusion that it is Cooper's writing—I do not always use the same signature to cheques—I have made two errors since Cooper left, because I have altered my signature to prevent fraud—I kept my cheque-book locked up ordinarily, but I might be called out of my office, when it would remain on my table.
By the JURY. The first cheque in this book was dated 1st January, 1887, and the last 6th January, 1888—the last two cheques are gone three others were taken from the firm's book; they were missed directly, and on them this man was arrested—they were discovered directly after the prisoner left the service; he was allowed to go—the other clerks had the same opportunity to get the cheque-book as the prisoner if I left it about—while he was away, between August and January, I was using this cheque-book.
Re-examined This letter is in the prisoner's writing; he sent it addressed to me.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I am an expert in handwriting, of 10, Bedford Row—this cheque and these letters and envelopes are in the same writing—the filling-in of the cheque and signature and the endorsement are all in the prisoner Cooper's writing, I can give my reasons.
Cross-examined by MR. TICKELL. I was asked one day last week to come and give evidence; I did not give evidence at the police-court—I examined the documents and made a report which I gave to the prosecution—I have been a witness for the last 40 years—it is not usual for the prosecution to give any report to the Counsel for the defence—I have been.
Cross-examined by on my reports, because I have given evidence on my reports—I do not consider I have been sometimes wrong in my opinions; I always think I am right, or else I should not go into Court; sometimes the Jury have come to a different conclusion to mine; it has not often happened, I don't think once this year—I have given evidence 50 or 60 times this year; I have had 80 cases this year—I don't wonder at a Jury coming to a different conclusion sometimes, when they are called on in five minutes to come to a conclusion that takes me hours to arrive at; this took me several hours—I had the cheque and three letters A, B, and C, and their envelopes to compare—the filling-in of this cheque is done in an upright hand for disguise; then the "r" in "Archer" is like the "r" on the cheque, and in the endorsement is another "r," and you find one like that in the letter; he makes three kinds of "r s"—he has a habit of connecting two words together with a sweep; the "n" is connected with the "p" in "ten pounds"—then the "B" and the whole of the word Baron in the signature to the cheque, and that in the letter C are written by the same person—"T" in the "Tobin's" are different, but the rest of the word is exactly similar—I have seen and compared other cheques drawn by the prosecutor.
The Prisoner's Statements before the Magistrate Cooper says: "I am not guilty I reserve my defence Burrell never got any cheque from me.
I have got no witnesses." Burrell said:"I am sorry to be placed in this position. When I picked up the cheque I thought everything was right. I have got references. I was 12 years in my last place. I have 10 witnesses."
Burrell in his defence said he had found the cheque rolled up in a rott of wall peeper in the house that Cooper had lived in, and that he was sorry for the falsehoods he had told about it, although there was a certain amount of truth in them.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TORR Prosecuted.
WALTER CHARLES BAXTER I am a licensed victualler, and keep the Foresters' Arms, Victoria Dock Road—on Saturday, 3rd March, between 8 and 8.30 p.m., I was in my bar, and in consequence of a communication I went upstairs into my kitchen and looked through a window that looks on to the leads on the roof of my house—my potman was with me—it was quite dark; he turned up the gas; I looked through the kitchen window and saw the prisoner crouching down under the parlour window on the same floor; he was on the leads; he had his hands over his face, I could not see it—from his movements and attitudes I am sure that he could see me, the light was right on him and on me too; he got over the parapet wall on to the roof of the next house—I called out "If you move I will shoot you," and I told the potman to go for a con stable—the prisoner remained still till the constable came with a ladder, he could not get away—after that I looked at the parlour window near where I had seen the prisoner, I saw the window was open—previously to that it had been closed; it was a sash window, the sash was quite up; there was a shutter on the inside so that he could not get in, the shutter was still closed—the potman shuts that shutter every night—I found marks all round the window-catch, as though some one had a chisel or knife to force the catch back—the catch had been forced back—I took the prisoner to the station and charged him.
GEORGE SHAW . I am potman at the Foresters' Arms—it is my duty to fasten the windows and all the premises after 11 o'clock—I had shut the windows and shutters on 3rd March previously to the window being found open—when I went upstairs with my master into, the kitchen I turned the gas on and saw the prisoner on the leads with his hands over his face, and I said "There he is, governor," and the governor saw him—I went on to the leads with the policeman afterwards—the prisoner was lying on his chest on the roof of the jeweller's shop—he was taken to the station.
FREDERICK HATFIELD (Policeman K 191). On 3rd March I went into the Foresters' Arms, and got a ladder to go on to the roof—on the roof of the next house I found the prisoner lying down; he was shamming as if asleep and drunk—I got further assistance and took him to the station—the divisional surgeon was called to see if his drunkenness was genuine or not—the opinion I formed was that he was shamming—I searched him, and found this black bag between his waistcoat and shirt, doubled up; this piece of crape, for a mask I presume, to put across his eyes, from the size of it; some silent matches in a box; a small saw for cutting wood, I should presume; a knife, which I compared with the
marks on the window, and found to correspond exactly—the knife would open the catch of the window easily—there were four pieces of leather, for putting on the hands, I thought, so that they should not be cut with the glass, but it is suggested that they are for putting on the soles of his boots to prevent them leaving foot-marks—the prisoner was not drunk.
Cross-examined by The window was wide open when I saw it.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said he knew nothing about it; that he had some beer and it upset him, and he went on the roof.
In his defence he said the bag was between his waistcoat and shirt become he had no pocket to put it into; that he picked the saw up near the door there; and that he had been drinking in the prosecutor's house for four or five hours. WALTER CHARLES BAXTER The prisoner had not been drinking in my house for four or five hours.
GUILTY . — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
CHRISTOPHER WILCOX . I am a plain-clothes officer employed by the St. Katherine's Dock Company—on 12th February, about 9.30 a.m., I saw the prisoner between K and B Jetty, Victoria Docks—I said "What have you about you? Have you anything you cannot give a satisfactory account of?"—he said "No"—I put my hand within his waistcoat, and found within his shirt one of these balls produced—I said "How do you account for this?"—he said "I don't know; I picked it up"—I said "You will have to go with me to the station"—he said "I b———won't go to the station"—I took him to the station and searched him; I found seven more—he said "I picked them up"—another man was with him, covering him, who ran away—the opium balls found in the ware house are similar to these produced.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner You did not say you saw some boys who scraped out the barges with the balls of opium.
WILLIAM CHARLES RODWELL WATSON . I am warehouse-keeper at No. K Jetty, and superintend the unloading of vessels coming there—on 7th February the Forginess was unloading there—I gave instructions as to 27 boxes of opium unloaded from her—on the 8th I missed one box of opium; I only found 26—I caused a search to be made—a case was found in the morning about 10 o'clock at the bottom of the ware house behind some bales of wool—it was at the extreme end of the warehouse, in an opposite direction to where the boxes were placed—this box had been opened, the tins cut, and three of the tins were entirely empty—about 40 balls of opium would be in each tin—this is one of the tins produced containing similar balls of opium—the value of the contents of the box would be about 100l., and of each ball of opium 12s. or 13s.—I know nothing about how the prisoner became possessed of them.
—I produce some balls of opium found in the case—they were wrapped up as they are now—they are similar to those found on the prisoner.
WILLIAM WILKS (Policeman K 69). On 19th February, about 11 o'clock, I received the prisoner into custody—I told him the charge—he said "I saw them rolling about in the docks, and I picked them up, I did not know what they were."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to say, only that I picked them up; some men who clean the barges were rolling them along I have no witnesses to call."
GUILTY of receiving.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE Defended.
EDWARD SIMMONS . I am a shipwright, living at Watton Street, Dept ford—about 12.30, on 1st March, I was in the Amhurst Arms, Deptford—I unbuttoned my coat and took out 6d. to pay for some beer; I received 4 1/2 d. in change—while I was doing so the prisoner, who was in the house, took my watch and chain—I was wearing it in front of my waistcoat, and part of it round my neck—he jumped for the door and I jumped after him, and caught him before he got outside—I saw the watch and chain go out of his hand—I kept hold of him and called for the police—I was thrown down, but retained my hold of him—there were several other people in the public-house—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined by. There were a great many people in the bar—it was about closing time—I was waiting for the declaration of the poll—I had not been two minutes in the house when my watch was stolen—I had been two hours in the New Cross Road, but in no other public-house—I am quite sure the prisoner is the man who robbed me—a crowd gathered outside and there was a great deal of pushing and struggling.
Re-examined. This is a portion of my chain—I do not know what became of the watch.
HARRY FORD (Policeman P 505). I heard cries of police and went to the Amhurst Arms—I saw the prisoner being held, and he was fighting his way through the crowd—I got hold of him and said "Stop a moment," and the prosecutor said "Keep hold of that man, he has got my watch and chain—the prosecutor was lying on the ground—I took the prisoner into custody—the next morning I went to the spot where I took him, and found this portion of the chain.
Cross-examined by. There was a great crowd outside the house.
THOMAS HILL (Policeman P 382). I was outside the Amhurst Arms and saw the prosecutor and the prisoner—I saw the scuffle and the prosecutor thrown to the ground—I caught hold of the prisoner by the arm—I was thrown to the ground—I got up and assisted in taking the prisoner to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE There was great excitement and a great crowd.
GUILTY . *
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Guildhall in June,1887.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
412. SAMUEL NEWSON , Feloniously personating a voter at a Parliamentary election at Deptford. Second County feloniously applying to the Presiding Officer at the said election for a ballot paper in the name of Samuel Buckoke.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. H. C. RICHARDS Defended.
HENRY WILLIAM SAUL I was Presiding Officer at Munson Road for both candidates at the Deptford Election—about 2.15 p.m. the prisoner came into my polling booth and asked for a voting-paper—Mr. Balderson, the agent for one of the parties, asked him his name and address, and he gave that of Samuel Buckoke, of No. 1, Faulkner Street, Deptford—at the request of Mr. Balderson I read the declaration to him—in answer to it he said he was Samuel Buckoke—I asked him the second time, and on oath he gave the same answer—I asked him four times in all whether he was Samuel Buckoke, and he gave the same answer—thereupon Mr. Balderson said "If I am acting up to my instructions I must give him in charge"—the prisoner was asked where he lived—he said he had removed to New Cross—after he was given into custody Mr. Balder son said to him that he had been to Mr. Buckoke's house several times, and found that he had removed to Berkhamstead, and that he had himself seen Mr. Buckoke, and knew that the prisoner was not the man—the prisoner said "Very well, then you know that I am not Samuel Buckoke"—I went with him to the police-station and saw the name that the prisoner gave on the charge-sheet.
Cross-examined by. I have never been returning officer before—the question as to name is generally asked in cases of inability to write—Mr. Balderson was Mr. Wilfred Blunt's agent—the prisoner was certainly confused—I would not swear that he was confused before I administered the oath—I did not see him bring in Mr. Wilfred Blunt's card—I would not swear as to whether he had a card in his hand—I knew Mr. Blunt's card, but as to which way a voter is come to vote that is very much open to doubt—I have not had much experience upon that matter; we looked his number up on the register—he said "I am not Samuel Buckoke, I am Newson," but that was some time afterwards—Mr. Balderson had the oath administered to other voters, who gave satisfactory explanations—there were four voters who could not read or write.
Re-examined. He said four times that he was Samuel Buckoke—after he was given into custody he said his name was Newson, not till then. ALFRED BALDERSON. I live at 18, Carlton Square—I am a clerk to a solicitor—on 29th February I was one of the personating agents for the Munson Street booth—my duty was to make myself acquainted with the voters in that district—I canvassed the house of Samuel Buokoke—I know that he was not present at the election—I saw the prisoner come to the polling-booth, and I heard him ask for a voting paper of Saul in the name of Samuel Buckoke, of No. 1, Faulkner Street—the register was referred to, and he was given a ballot paper—I challenged him as to whether he was sure he was Samuel Buckoke—he said "Yes, I am" I asked him three times—I saw the oath administered to him—he was asked the usual three questions, and he said that he was a voter
upon the register entitled to vote; that he was the person then referred to, and that he had never voted before in the borough—in answer to the Question as to whether he was Buckoke, he said "Yes, I am"—upon that I requested that the oath should be put to him, and then I said "Are you certain that you are Samuel Buckoke?" and he said "Yes, I am"—then I acted up to my instructions that he should be taken into custody—at the polling station the prisoner put the question to me "Do you say you know Mr. Buckoke?" and I nodded assent, and then he said "No, I am not Samuel Buckoke"—I did not go to the police station.
Cross-examined by. I made investigations with regard to the prisoner—I found him to be a perfectly honest and respectable man—I know nothing against him—what I found out has been in his favour—I agree emphatically with the last witness that he was confused when I put the questions to him, so he might have tumbled to my suggestions, but he stuck to his answers, and I was bound to act up to my instructions—I gave him a chance and he did not take it.
Re-examined. He seemed to understand the four questions put to him—he did not seem to be confused as to them.
EDWARD THORNTON WHITE . I am senior assistant clerk to the Dept ford Vestry—I produce the Revising Barrister's copy of the list of voters for the Parliamentary Borough of Deptford—at page 258, in alphabetical order, I find "Faulkner Street," and as a voter on the Register who has passed the Revising Barrister's examination, "Buckoke, Samuel, dwelling-house, No. 1"—I have looked over the Register, and do not find the name of Samuel Newson.
Cross-examined by. There are over 10,000 voters—I have not searched the whole of the Register—there have been several removals to my know ledge from what I have heard from the agents, canvassers, and so on—many of the voters who appeared before Mr. Mackenzie, the Revising Barrister, could not write.
Re-examined. If I had the prisoner's address I could find out whether he was a voter or not.
RICHARD WICKHAM (Policeman R R 40). I was on duty at the last Deptford Election, at the booth in Monson Road—I was inside the booth—I saw the prisoner—I heard him give the name of Samuel Buckoke, of 1, Faulkner Street—he repeated it twice, once after he was sworn—he was given into my custody—he said "That is not my name which' I have given"—I took him to the station and he was charged—at the station he gave the name of Samuel Newson, of 10, St. John's Road, Deptford—in answer to the charge he said "All right"—he was sober. Cross-examined by I have not been in Court during the present evidence—the prisoner might have been excited—there was a great deal of excitement that day—I am stationed in the borough—it extends to 10, St. John's Road—I do not know any fashionable people in that part.
Re-examined He told me his name after he was in custody.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate "I had had a little drop to drink A card was given to me by some one in a public-house, and I did not think I was doing any harm by voting."
The Prisoner received a good character.
The Jury being unable to agree, were discharged without a verdict, and the case was postponed to the next Session.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
SARAH DARBY . I am the wife of Charles Darby, and live with him at Belmont Villas, Hampton Road, Mortlake—on Tuesday, 6th March, about 1.30 a.m., I was at home and heard a cry outside my front door—I had heard no knock before that; I was in the kitchen—I listened and then heard another cry, and went to the front door and saw a baby lying on the doorstep, crying; it was dressed—I then went to Mortlake Station and got a policeman, and he came back with me, and took the baby away—when I first saw the baby I did not see anybody near it—I did not recognise it—the prisoner had called on me on the 13th February, bringing her baby with her, and asked me if Mr. Darby was in, and I told her he was not—she said she wanted to see him respecting the child, and asked me if she might come in—I said "Yes," and she came in—she then said the child belonged to Mr. Darby—her aunt was with her, and her aunt said if she could get some money she would go away altogether—she said her husband was in Australia, but she should never go and live with him again—in the meanwhile my son came in, and he told her to go out or he would turn her out—she then went out—on this night it was not so cold as we have had it; it had been a nice sunshiny day—my husband is a builder, and the prisoner was living in one of his houses.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I listened and the child cried very loud after that—I had the kitchen door open—I offered to light a fire for you—I told you if Darby came to you you should have shut the door in his face, told him to go home to his wife, and not have encouraged him if you knew he was not a single man.
JOHN CURTIS (Policeman). At a quarter to 10 on Tuesday evening, 6th March, I was called by the last witness to Belmont Villas, and there saw a child lying on the doorstep—I picked it up and found a letter in its sleeve, and this envelope on the doorstep by the side of the child, and also this brown-paper parcel containing two night-dresses and some diapers—the child was very warmly wrapped up and had an empty feeding-bottle with it; it was fast asleep—I took the child and parcel to Barnes Police station.
GEORGE BUSH (Detective Sergeant V). On "Wednesday morning, 7th March, I received this letter and envelope from the inspector at Barnes Station, and instituted inquiries, and on the Friday afternoon traced the prisoner to Palace Road, Lambeth—I told her I was a police-officer, and she would be charged with abandoning her child by leaving it on a doorstep at Mortlake—she said "I am very sorry, but he drove me to do it; I have nothing left, I have parted with everything, but before
I left the child"—I told her it was in consequence of the letter being found that I had been able to trace her—she said "I knocked at the door, and also roused the baby to make it cry to call attention, and I climbed the gate when I came out"—on referring to the letter she said "I mentioned in the letter that I called before," and I said that I had been able to trace her by the letter, and she did not deny it—she said she had been ordered out of the house by the son—I then took her to Richmond Station and charged her with the offence.
GEORGE BUSH (Re-examined) I spoke to her about the age of the child, and she said it was born on 12th September last, and was regis tered at Wandsworth in the name of Elsie Grace Smith—it is a weakly child—I have seen it in Richmond Union; it is there now.
The Prisoner I should like to have a witness called, Mr. Darby.
CHARLES JOSEPH DARBY (Examined by the prisoner). I am the husband of the first witness—I have not kept you for the last five years, nor have I lived with you—I did not take a house for you at 69, Englefield Road, Balham it was taken in my name, I did not take the house—there is no doubt everything was paid in my name, but not by me.
By the COURT She asked me to allow her to take the house in my name, but she has not told what occurred between her husband, or any thing of that—I have not given her money—I did not know she had had a child, only what I have heard since—she was living in one of my houses as caretaker, she asked me to come there—she signed an agreement to enable me to raise money on the house—she never went into two or three houses, only one—these receipts from the Water Company are made out in my name; when the water was laid on in the house, everything was made out in my name—I paid the first one, I have not paid either of the others—when you go to the Water Company about a new house, you always have to give them, as owner, your name, and pay the first quarter's rent before you have the water laid on—since then they have made out the receipts in my name (The letter found with the child stated that the witness had driven her to do in her desperation that which she would regret as long as she lived, and appealed to him to do his duty by the child and atone for his past neglect.) That letter is not true, I am not the father of the child—I have not had intercourse with the prisoner within the time of the child, two years ago.
Prisoner's Defence I kept the child as long as I possibly could; he induced me to sign the agreement for this house; they put a distress in and took away the best of my home, and then he wrote and told me I must get out of the house at once, that he could do nothing more in it. I have sold everything, and should have been homeless but for my cousin's kindness in taking me in I was determined I would not take my child to the Union while he was able to keep it; I therefore wrapped it up to protect it from the cold, and waited at a little distance till the door was opened, and now I have no means whatever I fully trusted him; I always have He had kept me for five years until then, and then he only partly maintained me; he sent me a sovereign at the end of October, 10s. at Christmas Eve, and 1s. 6d. since I have had hundreds of letters from him I always had my faith in the man.
NOT GUILTY .
The Court considered that Mr. Darby ought to do something for the child.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
CHARLES JOSEPH TAYLOR . I am a lighterman living in Phoenix Street, Lambeth—about 12.45 on Sunday morning, 26th February, I was in Stamford Street at the corner of Princes Street, when three men ran across the road, and one of them knocked me down—the prisoner is the man that fell on top of me, and pulled my trousers down and pulled the buttons off; he only got threepence—I called police twice; the three men ran away; I followed them; a policeman caught the prisoner.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was not standing alongside of the constable talking to him; you were trying to get away, and made a blow at me, and hit me in the mouth, when you wrenched yourself from the constable—I did not say I thought you were one of the men—I said "That is one," and you darted out and let go at me at once; I was down, you were off, and the constable had got you within a minute—I potted you; you were the closest to me; you were a-top of me, and you broke the buttons off my trousers.
GEORGE BRUMBLE (Policeman L 179). I was in Stamford Street and heard cries of police—I saw Taylor on the ground, and the other man on the top of him—I went up and they ran away—I followed the prisoner—I never lost sight of him—I brought him back to the prosecutor; he wrenched himself from me and struck the prosecutor, and said "You be d——d"—when he was charged he made no reply.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Prosecutor did not say "I think you are one of them"—you were in the company with the men who ran away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you standing over the prosecutor. The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been to the Canterbury Music Hall, had called at the Watch-horn public-house, and was turning into Stamford Street, when a constable accused him of assaulting a man, and the prosecutor said "I think that is one of them, he hit him in the mouth."
GUILTY . — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.
EVAN ARTHUR EVANS . I am barman at the Olive Branch public house, Waterloo Road—on 21st February last, about 9.30, the prisoner came in with two others, and asked for three two-pennyworths of hot rum, and put a gilded Jubilee sixpence on the counter, head downwards; I took it up and looked at it, and saw it was a Jubilee sixpence, and took it to the manager, who was at the other end of the bar—as I was going to the manager, the prisoner called out and said "I have made a mistake"—that was just at the time I was giving the coin to the manager, and the other two men who were with him then went out—the manager then came back to the counter with me, and I saw the prisoner standing at the counter alone, the other two men having gone out—I noticed the glasses I had served these men with, but did not notice if
there was anything in them—the manager then sent the other barman for a policeman—this (produced) is the coin.
Cross-examined by This is a long bar—hall-past 9 is a very busy time—I don't know if there was racing at Sandown that day—I have been there three or four weeks—I did not see this was a sixpence directly I took it up—I gave it to the manager—if a customer gave me a half sovereign, I should not take it to the manager—we have a place on the counter where we drop gold and half-crowns and florins in, and take the change cut of the top; I should look at it first—I was satisfied it was not such a coin as ought to go in the till; I was satisfied it was a sixpence—after I detected it the prisoner said "Wait a minute, I have made a mistake"—I saw the prisoner come in through the doors—I don't know if others came in with him—he called for the drink—I have noticed men come in and meet men there and stand drink—the prisoner called for drinks for other people.
Re-examined. I saw two men standing by his side when he called for the three drinks—I don't know whether they were with him or not—I noticed one of them drinking the rum, that was the one I saw go out, I did not notice them speaking to him—when I came back from the manager the two men were gone—I saw one of them go out.
By MR. PURCELL. I don't remember saying before the Magistrate "I did not see them leave."
ROBERT MEADOWS . I am manager of the Olive Branch—on this day I heard the prisoner call to the barman that he had made a mistake; that he did not call for three two penny worths of rum cold, but two hot and one cold—after that had been cleared up the order was given for two hot and one cold—I saw the drink given to the prisoner—he then said to the barman he never called for them at all—he saw me standing by—I walked to the further end of the bar, and while there Evans brought this coin to me and said something to me—I examined it—I took no notice of the prisoner, but sent another barman for a constable—I went to the prisoner and asked him where he had got it, or if he had any more like it—he said nothing for a few minutes, and at last he said "I suppose it is a mistake"—there is always a constable on the fixed point at the door—he came in then, and the coin was handed to him, and he searched the prisoner, and the prisoner was given into custody—when I got up to the counter I noticed the glasses of the prisoner's two com panions that had left were full, and the prisoner's was just upon empty—I did not notice the two who had left the full glasses go out of the public house, but they were standing by the prisoner—the barman who went for the constable went out by the side door, not by the door out of which the two men went.
Cross-examined by. I saw at once that the coin was a wrong one, that it was a sixpence—I did not see the prisoner come in; I saw the other two men by the side of him—the two glasses were not touched—they were about half full—I cannot say whether the men had drunk or not—the barman went to a different door to that of the compartment in which the prisoner was—I believe there was a race on at Sandown Park—I never allow a customer to be served when he is the worse for liquor—if he is so he is discharged at a moment's notice—the prisoner was afterwards a little thick in his speech, more so at the station—I had no opportunity of speaking to him before he had the rum—when I went and asked him
if he had anymore he appeared quite ignorant; he did not answer me for a moment—he said it was a mistake—he was as right as he is now.
Re-examined. It is very hard to say whether the glasses had been touched at all, being half full.
GEORGE CROFT (Policeman L 210). On the night of 21st February the prisoner was given into my custody at the Olive Branch at a quarter to 9—I was on the beat just outside the public-house—I searched the prisoner in the bar, and found on him 2 1/2 d. bronze, a pack of 19 cards, used for the three-card trick, and five flash notes on the Bank of Engraving—he was taken to the station; he made no answer to the charge—Mr. Meadows gave me this coin and I produce it to-day.
Cross-examined by. Nothing was said by the prisoner at the public-house—when Mr. Meadows said "I will give him into custody, "Isaid I should search him; he made no reply—neither I nor he said anything about the cards—he did not look as if he had had a glass; he might have had some rum—I did not smell his breath—I did not notice that his speech was thick; he did not speak to me—the prisoner gave me an address which I found was correct—he was admitted to bail by the Magistrate, and has been on bail since—I have never been on a race course in my life—he had no silver money in his possession.
Cross-examined by A gilt sixpence is not a current coin—you cannot take the gilt off, it will wear off in time; it is a defacement.
The prisoner received a good character from one witness.
GUILTY . — One Month's Imprisonment without Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
WILLIAM LAMBERT . I am a dairyman, of 203, Waterloo Road—the prisoner has been a customer of mine—on 2nd March he came in about 7 p.m. for bread, milk, sugar, tea, and butter, which came altogether to 4d.—he paid with this bad 6d., which I saw him hand to my daughter who gave it to me—directly the prisoner went out I saw it was bad, and put it in a drawer by itself—on 6th March he came in again, and asked for goods coming to 4d.—he paid with another bad 6d., which was put in a drawer with the other—I discovered it was bad as he was going out, and I called on him and he went away—I then instructed my wife, and next day, 7th March, at 5 o'clock, she gave, me this other 6d.—after I received that third one I went to the lodging-house where the prisoner lodged, 12, Gray Street, and asked him if he had any more bad money about him—he said "What if I have?"—I said I should have him pinched—I left the lodging-house, and pointed out the prisoner to a constable standing near the door—the prisoner ran away; the constable caught him after running 200 or 300 yards—I charged the prisoner; he made no answer—the three coins were taken to the station and given to Inspector Sinnett.
THOMAS BARRY (Policeman L 271). About half-past 5 or a quarter to 6 on 7th March the prosecutor pointed out the prisoner to me as he was coming out of 12, Gray Street—he ran away; I followed him for about 300 yards, he running all the time—when I was within 400 or 500 yards of him he stood still, seeing I was just on him—I caught and
searched him—I found 1 1/2 d. bronze on him—I brought him back to the station—these three coins were given to me by Sinnett—the prisoner made no answer when charged at the station.
MARY LAMBERT . I am William Lambert's wife—on 7th March the prisoner came in at 20 minutes past 2 for some articles, which came to 3 1/2 d.—he gave me this 6d. in payment—before that my husband had told me to watch—when I saw the 6d. was bad I said "I have been waiting for. you, as this makes the third one"—he said "Not me, mum"—I said "You"—he turned very red, and walked out quickly—I kept the 6d. in the glass too—I did not let him have the goods—when my husband came home I told him all about it, and gave him the 6d
Prisoner's Defence. This is my first offence, and I hope you will be as lenient as you can.
GUILTY . — Ten Months' Hard Labour .
418. HARRY AUGUSTUS FREDERICK HUGHES (28) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining goods by false pretences from Messrs. Maple and from Messrs. Atkinson, with intent to defraud.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, APRIL 23RD, 1888.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Vol. cvii. page Sentence