CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
DE KEYSER, MAYOR.
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 22ND, 1888.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Including cases committed to this Court under Order in Council pursuant to the Winter Assize Act of 1879,
Held on Monday, October 22nd, 1888, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. POLYDORE BE KEYSER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon Sir LEWIS WILLIAM CAVE , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir FRANCIS WYATT TRUSCOTT , Knt., and Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q C., Recorder of the said City; JOSEPH SAVORY , Esq., STUART KNILL , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., and GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CLARENCE RICHARD HALSE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
DE KEYSER, MAYOR TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS BESLEY and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. ARTHUR GILL Defended
LEONARD JOHN UNDERWOOD . I am a solicitor and member of the firm of Taylor, Mason, and Co., of 15, Furnival's Inn—we were acting as solicitors for the plaintiff and one of the defendants in the suit of Fry v Fry, an administration action in the Chancery Division—part of the property, the subject of the action, is leasehold property at Newington—the greater part of the ground rents have to be paid to the Licensed Victuallers' Asylum—before 11th February last year Mr. Earle was receiver of the estate; he died in December, 1886—upon his death the defendant was appointed receiver on 11th February, 1887, under an order which is in Court; under that order the defendant was to account in the chambers of Mr. Justice Stirring on 22nd November in each year; he would have to produce his accounts and vouchers as receiver in order that the Chief Clerk's certificate might be obtained—the 22nd November, 1887, was the first date on which he had to account—a notification was sent to him by our firm to bring in his account—he did not account on that day—I interviewed him personally before that day—he made various excuses for not bringing in the account—he said that a fire had occurred at the office of Mr. Barry, a solicitor, next door to his chambers, and that the vouchers of the account had been drenched in water and most of them spoiled, and he would have to obtain duplicates of them in order to vouch his account, but that he would bring in the account very soon—that interview was somewhere between 20th December and the end of the year—I saw him more than once, and I think I wrote to him more than a dozen letters—I had answers to those letters, they are here—his account was not lodged until April—it is the practice to
verify the account by an affidavit—I prepared an affidavit for the defendant to swear, this is it, and this is the account referred to in it—this is a draft of the account that was prepared by the prisoner, it was sent to me a few days before the account was lodged—I am not prepared to swear positively to the prisoner's handwriting—in the account, under the head of payments and allowances, item 14 is, "27th March, 1887, Licensed Victuallers' Asylum, half-year's ground rent 102l. 14s. 3d., less tax 3l. 6s. 6d., balance 99l. 7s. 6d.;" item 34, on October 12th, 1887, is "Licensed Victuallers' Asylum, half-year's ground rent 102l. 14s., less tax 3l. 8s. 6d., balance 99l. 5s. 6d."—on 27th April an appointment was made to vouch—on that day I saw a man named Raven, and on that day or the day previous he gave me the vouchers—I knew at that time that Raven was the prisoner's clerk, I now know that he is his brother—the prisoner did not attend before the Chief Clerk on 27th April—Raven did not attend the vouching; it is not usual for the receiver to attend personally—I produced the vouchers before Mr. Boyle, clerk to the Chief Clerk—the whole of the accounts were vouched, except the two items in question; the matter was adjourned till 4th May to complete the vouching by the production of the vouchers of those two items—I do not remember whether I saw the prisoner between 27th April and 4th May, I saw Raven, the clerk—I wrote to the prisoner several times between those dates—I wrote to the prisoner before 4th May—I served a notice to produce on the prisoner on Saturday last—I have a press copy of the letter—immediately after the appointment on 27th April I went to the prisoner's office and saw Raven—on 4th May I wrote to the prisoner, I got no answer—I saw Raven that morning, and he gave me these duplicates of the missing vouchers of items 14 and 34—I attended the appointment in the afternoon for the vouching, and I produced those two vouchers before Mr. Boyle—the account was then completely vouched, and thereupon the Chief Clerk certified that 367l. 11s. 9d. was due from the prisoner—the original certificate is in Court—it is usual to send the vouchers back to the receiver, that was done; I enclosed them in a letter on the afternoon of 4th May—I read the two vouchers, they were marked "duplicate," and purported to be signed for or on behalf of the Licensed Victualler' Asylum, and they were vouchers for the two payments 99l. 7s. 6d. and 99l. 5s. 6d., stamped with an impressed stamp, and in perfect order; they were partly in writing and partly printed—after the 4th of May I had some conversation with Mr. Weston, the accountant to the Licensed Victualler' Asylum, and on 28th May I applied to the Court for an order on the defendant to file his account on 8th June, and that order is in Court discharging the prisoner from the office of receiver—this signature to the original affidavit is in the prisoner's handwriting—I addressed all my letters to "T. S. Hunting don, Esq"—I was told somewhere between April and June that the prisoner's real name was Raven.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was introduced to our firm, and we got him appointed to this receivership—the accounts of the previous receiver were not filed until a month or two later, not so late as six months—600l. was not due to the prisoner in respect of surveying these houses; nothing whatever was due to him; he had been paid for whatever work he did—he has not been paid for surveying these houses, because he has never finished his work—he drew up some specification
for repairs—I don't know that in January he sustained an injury by falling from a ladder; I never heard it, or that he broke a blood-vessel—I know that he was very ill, but that was some time ago; it was not from a fall, I never heard it—I saw him about the accounts at my office—I am not sure that the accounts were gone into—I saw him this year about the accounts; it might have been in January—I think I saw him more than once—I saw Raven very often as his clerk—I did not know that the prisoner's name was Raven, and that he assumed that of Huntingdon with the legal formalities—I don't know that it was advertised in the public press that he was going to take that name—I acted as his solicitor since he was appointed receiver, on October 18th, 1884—I know now that Raven is his brother—I don't know that the prisoner was out of London in March, April, and May—I won't say positively that I never saw him in those three months, but I think I could—I received letters from him at times bearing postmarks of East-bowel, Portsmouth, and other places—I have written to his private address, and on one occasion I received an answer from his wife—this is it—that was on 18th April—the affidavit was sworn at Ealing on 21st April—I either gave it to Raven or sent it to Ealing—these accounts are either in the prisoner's or Raven's handwriting; they are very much alike—I once saw the prisoner sign a will—I have seen him write on other occasions—I think he wrote something in my office; I cannot recall the times—these two false receipts were produced and given to me by Raven—I never saw them in the prisoners hands, and never spoke to him about them—I went to his office on the morning of 4th May and got them—I did not see him; I met Raven on my way—I wrote to the prisoner before applying for a warrant—I never could get to see him—I besought him to come and see me, but he never did—he was not ill then; he had recovered—he was away from time to time for a day or two.
Re-examined. There was no liability to pay the prisoner 3l. a house; he says he was entitled to that—he had over 1,000l. belonging to the parties in the suit—300l. was the balance due on 27th November; since then he has received more—he has never paid one penny of that balance—there are orders of the Court to pay 1,000l.—six months after he was appointed receiver 189l. was advanced to him to do some repairs, he only spent about 20l. of that, I know that by having had to pay—75l. was what he was ordered to pay—I have paid that, he has got the rest—I did not know him by the name of Raven until after this was discovered; I did not see him again until after his arrest—this is a press copy of a letter I addressed to him (Read: "Dear Sir, Fry v. Fry The appointment at Chambers to pass your account is this morning at 12; please to let the bearer have cheque for the costs, and the two vouchers for the Licensed Victualler' Asylum ground rent") Early in the year, I fancy about March, he was ill from internal hæmorrhage; he recovered from that—his wife in her letter asked me to interfere to prevent his working too hard—I have every reason to believe that he made up the account, no one else could have made it up—he swore the affidavit, he was the only person who could do it; the receiver has to swear to the account—after the vouchers were produced before Mr. Boyle they came into my possession, and I sent them back to the prisoner in a letter with the other vouchers—when Joseph George
Raven was mentioned in the affidavit as his surety, I did not know he was the prisoner's brother, or he would not have been accepted as a surety.
PATRICK CHARLES BOYLE . I am clerk to Mr. Justice Stirling—the account marked "A" annexed to the affidavit was used before me, I accepted it as true—the item 14 is a payment to the Licensed Victualler' Asylum of 99l. 7s. 6d. alleged to have been made on 27th March, 1887; item 34 is a payment on 12th October of 99l. 5s. 6d. 8/16/2006 for ground rent in respect of the same property—I believed that those payments had been made—on 4th May I received vouchers for those two items—after I had seen them it brought out a balance of 367l. 11s. 9d.—I should not know anything about the payment—I initialed the vouchers, and handed them over to Mr. Underwood; they purport to be official receipts of the Asylum; they tallied with the entries on the account.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner.
CHARLES JOHN WESTON . I am accountant to the Licensed Victualler' Asylum—their office is in New Bridge Street—all moneys coming to the credit of the Asylum pass through my hands, including money payable in respect of the leasehold estate of Fry and Fry—up to July, 1886, the ground rents in respect of those premises were regularly paid—the last payment was made by Mr. Erie, the previous receiver—since that no payment has been made in respect of those ground rents—I have not received the two sums of 99l. 7s. 6d. and 95l. 5s. 6d.—I have received letters from the receiver—three were produced at Bow Street, this is one of them (Read: "10th February, 3, Clifford's Inn Dear Sir,—Your letter addressed to Mr. Erle has been handed to me I have been appointed in his place, and will, when in full possession of the particulars, send any ground rent due to the Asylum Yours, T. S. Huntingdon") After the receipt of that I called at the office in Clifford's Inn—I did not see the prisoner—on 18th April I received this letter from him: "I hope to be able to see you at your office either to-morrow or Wednesday T. S. Huntingdon"—the ground rents were not paid, and a year afterwards I communicated with Mr. Child, the solicitor to the Asylum.
Cross-examined. I did not communicate with Mr. Child before, on account of the prisoner's repeated promises of payment—I received this other letter, dated 31st December last.
MR. UNDERWOOD (Re-examined) These three letters are the prisoner's writing, the body as well as the signature.
FREDERICK FULLER . I am managing clerk to Gray and Mounsey, solicitors, in Staple Inn—they acted for two of the defendants in Fry and Fry—on 27th April this year I was at the chambers of Mr. Justice Stirring at the vouching of the receiver's account—the whole of the account was vouched with the exception of the two items in question—the vouching was adjourned to 4th May in order that those vouchers might be produced—I attended on 4th May; the account was then fully vouched and passed—I saw the two vouchers; they appeared to be perfectly regular—the word "duplicate" was written across the top.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner often, but not at the vouching—Raven was not at the vouching.
Re-examined. At the time he was being appointed I saw him several times—after his appointment I went with him to see the houses in question—I did not know that his name was Raven, or that his clerk
was his brother—we knew that he had a surety of the name of Raven—if we had known his name was Raven we should have been suspicious.
THEOPHILTTS CHILD . I am in partnership with my brother—our firm is H J and T Child—we are solicitors to the Licensed Victualler' Asylum—in February, 1888, I had instructions to write to the receiver in Fry and Fry for the ground rents from Christmas, 1886, to 1887—a year and a half's rent was due—I wrote to Huntingdon, 3, Clifford's Inn, as the receiver—I received this reply of 29th February, signed "Huntingdon and Co.," and subsequently saw him in the early part of March—I got these letters of 5th and 28th March and 18th April in reply to our applications—I saw the prisoner twice in the early part of March at my office—he said his name was Huntingdon; that he was not the receiver; that his brother was the receiver, but that he had met with a very serious accident, having fallen from a ladder while superintending repairs to the property at Newington; that he was in point of fact lying at the point of death, and that he, the prisoner himself, expected to be appointed receiver, and that when he was appointed he would send me a cheque for the arrears of rent—I had a second interview with him about a week or 10 days after at my office—he then said he would send me a cheque in a few days—I subsequently received this circular—I did not see him after receiving it—I wrote to him at his office:" 16th April, 1888 Dear Sir,—Licensed Victualler' Asylum, Newington property I must ask you to let us have a cheque for the rent due without further delay—I received this answer on black bordered letter paper: "18th April Dear Sir,—We are only waiting for the Treasury order to be passed before taking over the several receiverships; immediately we are so authorised we will send cheque; one of the enclosed notices must have escaped our attention Yours truly, Huntingdon and Co"—this is a lithographed circular, also with a black border (Read: "3, Clifford's Inn, March 26th, 1888 Dear Sir,—It is with deep regret we have to announce the death of our senior partner, Mr. Huntingdon, who died on Friday night last; during his serious illness, which arose from an accident, arrangements were made by which his brother, Mr. J Huntingdon, surveyor, a gentleman of considerable experience, has taken charge of the departments under the control of his late brother; he will also take his place as receiver in the several matters wherein the deceased gentleman was appointed receiver by the Court of Chancery Yours, Huntingdon and Co ") That was the last letter I had from the office—no money what ever was paid to me—I afterwards saw the prisoner at the police-court; he is the same person who spoke of not being the receiver, but his brother.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner between March and after his arrest.
ROBERT CULLEN DEWEY . I am a commissioner to administer oaths—this affidavit was sworn before me—this is my signature to the jurat—I do not know who swore it; it was not necessary to be signed before me; it might have been signed when it was brought to me—the date is 21st April—the account marked "A" is referred to in the affidavit.
first knew of it about 12 or 18 months ago—I did not hear of it from him—I never spoke to him on the subject.
CHARLES GETHEN (Police Sergeant E) On June 30 I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest on a charge of forgery—I arrested him on July 5th outside this Court—I read the warrant to him—he said "It is absolutely false, I know nothing about it," he was taken to Bow Street and there charged, he said "I was away at Eastbourne then"—I searched him and found on him 7l. in money, and a small bottle of laudanum—I said "Have you a knife about you?" he said "No"—he was put into a cell, next morning from something told me he was taken to Charing Cross Hospital—he was there about a month, and I then took him before the magistrate.
L. J. UNDERWOOD (Re-examined) This letter is all in the prisoner's writing (Read: "May 2, '88 I am glad to be able to say that next week the repairs will be completed, and I can then finish and send you the necessary report with others, but I have had a tremendous lot of work in attending to these repairs; my cheque book is at the office; you shall have the required cheque to-morrow afternoon, as I drive to Paddington to-day, not to-morrow morning.") That letter is written on the same crest-headed paper as his wife's letter—I have seen Raven within the last fortnight.
RICHARD HILL . I have been appointed by the Court as receiver of this estate of Fry and Fry, I have taken over the management—I have had no money from the prisoner—I have had no accounts respecting the Licensed Victualler' Asylum—I estimate the repairs of the five houses in Tiverton Street at possibly 20l., and those in Devonshire Street 30l.
Cross-examined. The specifications were very voluminous—I have examined most of the houses from top to bottom—fresh wood has been placed on the roofs of seven or nine houses in Devonshire Street, but in my estimate of 20l. I am not referring to those houses, I refer to the internal repairs.
Witnesses for the Defence.
EDWARD BROWN TAYLOR . I am a wholesale manufacturer of 24, Australian Avenue, Barbican—I have known the prisoner five years—I have seen him write and have corresponded with him—the signature to this affidavit is not in the prisoner's handwriting, I have not the least doubt about it—I do not know in whose handwriting these accounts are, I should say they are not the prisoner's, I have no doubt about it—the signature of Huntingdon and Co to the letters to Mr. Child looks something like the prisoner's, I could not say positively, it is more like his—I would not swear it was not—the date is February 29th.
Cross-examined. I knew him in 1883—I did not know him as Raven—he never told me that was his name—I have seen Raven, I saw him this year—I had not the least idea that he was the prisoner's brother—I have had many letters from the prisoner in business, and also in friendly transactions—this letter on the crested paper, dated May 2nd, I think is his writing—I did not know that he was receiver of this property—I saw him at his office the week before Mr. Child's application for payment
this affidavit is not his ordinary signature, not is the writing in the account.
Cross-examined. It does not appear to me like the writing I have ordinarily received from him—I have been subpoenaed to come and say that—I was interviewed on the subject last Friday—I always knew him as Huntingdon—he never told me his name was Raven—I did not know very much about him or of his private history—I have received many letters from him on business since 1884, I dare say 100—I have seen him write half a dozen times—I did not know that he and Raven were brothers; I was Raven on Friday with the solicitor—I have not seen Raven write—this is the first time I have seen this affidavit—I could not swear it is not the prisoner's signature, it does not resemble it, it is more like an attempt to imitate it, it differs so much; in my opinion it is simulated—the signature to the letter on the crested paper I should think was his, it more resembles his ordinary signature.
CHARLES FRANCIS WALKER . I am a clerk in the Union Bank, Chancery Lane branch—the prisoner kept an account there—I know his signature; I should say the signature to this affidavit was not is—a cheque with the signature would not be cashed at the bank.
Cross-examined. I issue the cheque-books, I do not pay cheques—I was asked on Saturday to come here, I was shown a tracing of this signature; I knew the prisoner by the name of Huntingdon—I know there has been 50l. to his credit at the bank—I could not say at what date—I could not say what his average balance was—I did not know his clerk; his chambers are at 3, Clifford's Inn; he came to the bank as Huntington, about three years ago—I have been in Court, I heard the last witness examined—the signature to this document (looking at one dated 10th February) is so cramped I would not like to say it was—this of 18th April, 1887, I should say was his; I should say these signatures are not the same as that to the affidavit, to the best of my belief they are not in the same hand.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, of 59, Holborn Viaduct—in my opinion the signature to the affidavit is not in the same handwriting as the signature to the letter February 10th, 1887—I have examined a tracing of the signature; the signature to the affidavit is nothing like so firmly written.
Cross-examined. I should say that the signature to the letter of the 4th May, 1888, is the same as that to the letter of 10th February—the signature to the affidavit is not so firm, it is more like an imitation—I saw a tracing of this about 10 days ago, and also saw a lot of genuine signatures, and I have given my conscientious opinion.
JOHN KENT . I am an electrician, of Railway Approach, London Bridge—I have known the prisoner since 1882—I have seen him write many times, and corresponded with him; the signature to this affidavit is decidedly not his, I have not doubt whatever about it.
Cross-examined. I first knew him about six years ago—he was then living at Shepherd's Bush, and having offices at 3, Clifford's Inn, and going by the name of Huntingdon—I have seen his clerk on more than one occasion; I did not know that his name Raven until to-day—I did not know they were brothers—I was called on to give evidence one day last week by the solicitor, not by the clerk; I only say him Friday when the subpoena was served on me—I have not seen any signature of
Raven's—I think the signature to the letter of 4th May is the prisoner's; there is no likeness whatever to the signature to the affidavit; there is not the slightest resemblance to my mind—the signature to this letter of 18th April is the prisoner's.
LEONARD JOHN UNDERWOOD (Re-examined) The letter of 4th May was drawn up in my office—the statement was derived partly from Raven and partly from what I was aware of from my knowledge of the case—I sent it to the prisoner to sign, and he sent it back with the signature attached—I am perfectly certain it is the prisoner's signature (This stated that the account truly set forth an account of all sums of money received by him up to December, 1887)
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in May, 1877, after a former conviction.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
929. ROBERT ALFRED WATTS (25) to four indictments for stealing various sums, the money of Herbert Rymill, his master, to three indictments for forging and uttering acquittance and receipts, and to falsifying a cash-book by making false entries therein— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
933. GEORGE CHARLWOOD (20) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing post letters, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General Recommended to mercy by the Prosecution.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
934. ALFRED SAMUEL MILLIGAN (25) to two indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post-office, two letters containing money orders, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General — Six Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
935. ROLAND MARSDEN (18) to stealing a Post-office Savings Bank book and other articles, also to forging and uttering a receipt for the payment of 1l. 5s. with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering a request for the payment of 1l. 8s. with intent to defraud— Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
WILLIAM HURRLE . I am errand boy to John Broad, a chemist—on September 21st, between 7 and 8 p m., the prisoner came in for two penny worth of ointment—she gave a florin and received 1s. 10d. change—about four minutes after that I had occasion to go to Mr. Williams, a chemist just down the street, which took me about two minutes, and found the prisoner there—I saw her give Mr. Williams a florin—he got his scales
and said that it was bad, and she gave him another—I went back and spoke to Mr. Lloyd, who had served the prisoner—he gave me a florin, which I took to Mr. Williams, and then went down Bishop's Road and saw the Prisoner with George Arnold (See New Court, Tuesday)—I pointed her out to a constable and gave him the florin—he took her back to the shop and charged her.
Cross-examined. She was in our shop about five minutes—I was behind the counter, but not the counter she came to—I afterwards heard Mr. Williams ask her if she knew it was bad and she said that she did not—about five minutes after I saw her in the shop I saw her speaking to Arnold—she was walking at an ordinary pace—she did not attempt to go away when I pointed her out—the man followed some distance and then went away.
JAMES CLEMENT LLOYD . I am manager for Mr. Broad, a chemist, of 9, Sheldon Street—on September 21st, between 7 and 8 p.m. the prisoner came in for two pennyworth of ointment and gave me a florin—I gave her 1s. 10d. change and put the florin into the till—there was no other florin there—I think I gave her a shilling, a sixpence, and coppers—I then sent Hurrle to Mr. Williams—he returned and gave me information—I tried the florin and found it was bad—he afterwards returned with a policeman and the prisoner—she said she did not know it was bad, and I went to the station and charged her—she said "I did not know it was bad, I got it in change for a half-sovereign at a public-house in Chelsea"—she asked for no pills at our shop.
Cross-examined. The other shop is about 200 yards off—I saw the prisoner in custody about a quarter of an hour after she was in our shop she was taken before a Magistrate and remanded in custody, after which she was admitted to bail.
EVANS WILLIAMS . I am a chemist, of 16, Bishop's Road—on September 21st, about 8 o'clock, the prisoner came in for a small quantity of pills—I served her with two or three pennyworth—she gave me a florin; it was light, and I told her it was bad, and asked her if she knew where she got it—she said she thought she did—I did not give her the change; I handed it back to her—she gave me a good half-crown, and I gave her two single shillings and four pence change—while I was serving her Hurrle came in and they went away and came back with another bad florin—this florin (produced) is not the one brought to me; that was crumpled up, but this is similar to it—my shop is about 200
yards from Mr. Broad's
Cross-examined. She had a purse; she was in my shop about two minutes.
RICHARD CASSEN (Policeman F 84) Hurrle pointed out the prisoner to me and save me this bad florin—I took her to Mr. Broad's shop, 9, Sheldon Street and Mr. Lloyd identified her—I took her to the station and charged her—the Inspector took from her a satchel and a purse, with good half-crown, florin, and sixpence—the florin she passed is bent and she attempted to pass another—I marked them separately—she was charged with attempting to utter bad money—she said "I did not know it was bad; I changed a half-sovereign in a public-house in Chelsea which I often go to, the King's Head."
Cross-examined. The King's Head is in Fulham Road, Chelsea—I entered what she said in my book—the Lord Nelson public-house is in
King's Road—I was in uniform—she was walking at an ordinary pace—I asked her if she had been into Mr. Broad's, the chemist's, and she at once told me that she had—I said that she had given a bad two-shilling-piece there, and she would have to come there with me—she said "Yes, if you please"—she gave her correct address," 65, Marlborough Road, Chelsea," that was close by.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of her youth. — A lady engaged to take her into her service, and entered into recognisances to bring her up for judgment if called upon.
The Jury, being unable to agree, were discharged without giving any verdict, and the trial was postponed to next Session.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 23rd, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
938. ANNIE FROST and ROBERT PERCIVAL BODLEY FROST were indicted (with Robert Gigner, not in custody) for unlawfully conspiring to cheat and defraud various tradesmen of their goods, chattels, and money, also for obtaining various sums of money, and incurring a debt and liability.
INNES defended Annie Frost, and MESSRS BESLEY and PARTRIDGE
defended Robert Frost.
GRIFFITH WILLIAMS . I am a tailor at 20, Spring Street, Paddington—last December I knew Gigner, and I knew the female defendant under the name of Mrs. Gordon Baillie; she was then living at 32, Eastbourne Terrace—previous to 28th December, Gigner called and represented himself as an indoor servant; he said he thought he had got a situation with a Mrs. Gordon Baillie, and asked me to give him a card, as he wanted to get me to make him the livery—he said she was a rich lady from Australia, with large estates in Lancashire—he afterwards called and said he had got the situation, and I called on the female defendant and took patterns for her to select—she said she wanted a suit for her indoor servant, Gigner—she selected green cloth, and I measured him, made the suit and an extra waistcoat, and charged 5l. 15s.—my account was sent in about a week afterwards—I have never been paid—I have not applied for the money; they had gone, and left no address.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. My account was sent by post, addressed to Mrs. Gordon Baillie, 32, Eastbourne Terrace—I then let the matter rest for about a fortnight—I did not call, she had gone—I only went to the house to take the order.
Cross-examined by MR. PARTRIDGE. I did not see Mr. Frost THOMAS POGSON. I am a butcher, of 24, Wood Street, Westminster—on 27th March Gigner bought meat of me—he was then living at 5, Westminster Chambers, with Mrs. Gordon Baillie, or Mr. and Mrs.
Frost, the defendants—he described himself as their servant—after that be brought me this letter (produced),.
HENRY CHAMPION . I have some independent means, I am not altogether independent—I have known Frost for some years, he was my schoolfellow—to the best of my belief this letter is in his writing (This letter, signed "R Frost," stated that he was informed his servant teas getting meat of Pogson, and that he would be glad if Pogson would serve him (Frost) , and that bills were payable every Monday.
THOMAS POGSON (continued) I supplied meat at once to Gigner, who brought the letter, and then according to request sent for orders every day—on 2nd April 1l. 1s. 8d. was due—Gigner brought me for that amount a cheque on Smith, Payne, and Smith, drawn by A Gordon Baillie, which was honoured—on Saturday, 21st, Gigner came and asked me to make the book up, as Mrs. Frost was having her banking account made up—the account then due came to 1l. 0s. 3d.—Gigner went away, and in about an hour returned with a cheque for about 3l. 11s.—I cannot recollect what change I gave—before I heard anything about the cheque Gigner called again and asked me to cash a cheque for 4l. upon the same bank, signed "A Gordon Baillie"—I cashed it—I served some more meat at that time, something under 1l.—I paid the two cheques away together—they were afterwards returned, each marked "N S"—on 26th April I went to 5, Westminster Chambers, and saw Gigner, and told him the cheques were returned—he said he could not account for it, there was plenty of money at the bank, there must be some mistake, he would tell Mrs. Frost about it and let me know—I asked him why it was signed by Gordon Baillie, and he said Mrs. Frost went by her maiden name, that she was married in America, and signed her cheques in her maiden name—he said perhaps the name was spelt wrong, perhaps it was spelt Gordon instead of Gordon—and next morning, the 27th, I called again and saw Gigner—on the 28th he brought me this open cheque for 7l.—the other two were similar to this in appearance (This was dated 1st May, on Smith, Payne, and Smith, to self or bearer, and was signed "Gordon Baillie") On the 1st May I presented it, and it was marked "N S"—as I was going to the Chambers I met Gigner and told him about it, he said Mr. and Mrs. Frost had just gone out—he asked me to present it again, and said it would be all right, I did so with the same result—about 2nd or 3rd May I went to Westminster Chambers again, but was not able to see Mr. or Mrs. Frost, I waited on the stairs till I saw them coming upstairs—the female defendant said "You are my butcher, "I said "Yes," she said she was very sorry to put me to so much inconvenience; but she had a large cheque for 200l., I think, sent to the bank and it was signed wrong, and had to be altered and sent back again—I cannot say whether she said it came from Scotland or America—she promised me my money that night—I requested her to give me the money, as I was pressed for money, and she said to Mr. Frost, "Edward, give him 2l."—he gave me 2l.—this was in the afternoon—she promised to let me have the other in the evening—I did not get it—next morning or the morning after that I went to the house again, there was a paper on the door with "Family out of town, will not be back till 12, and my book was hanging on the bell knob with a paper with the words, "Make up and put in the letter-box"—I did so—about 3 o'clock the same day, from something I heard in a shop, I went to 5, Westminster Chambers, again
—I saw Mr. Frost, I asked him to give me another cheque for 5l., so that I could present it at the bank—he said he would do so, but that Mrs. Frost was out, and that he would tell her when she came in—I found after that that they had left—I have lost 3l. 19s. 9d. in cash and meat to the value of 1l. 14s. 5d., it is nearly 6l. altogether—I communicated with the police then—my information was sworn and they were taken into custody.
Cross-examined by MR. PARTRIDGE. The cheque for 7l. was given in substitution of the other two—Mr. Frost gave me the 2l. out of his own pocket.
EDWIN SHEPHERD . I am manager to the firm of Hatchard, now carried on by the trustees of the late Mr. Hatchard, publishers and booksellers of Piccadilly—I knew the female prisoner 12 or 14 years ago as Miss Bruce—on April 26th this year she called and gave the name of Mrs. Baillie—she said she was staying at 32, Eastbourne Terrace—she came to pay for some books she had had earlier in the year—I looked at my book and after some little difficulty, the account having been posted to another person, I discovered 2l. 1s. was due—she gave me this cheque for 10l. dated April 28th on Smith Payne payable to self or bearer signed "Gordon Baillie,"—he ordered two or three other books to be sent to 4, King's Bench Walk, to Mrs. Baillie—I gave her 7l. 19s. change—I afterwards received this letter, dated 4, King's Bench "Walk, April 28th, and signed "A G Baillie "(MR. CHAMPION said that to the best of his belief this was in Mr. Frost's handwriting It requested Messrs Hatchard to send "Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft's Reminiscences of the Stage "with the other books.) I paid the cheque into my bankers several times—it came back marked "N 8"—we did not send the additional books—the cheque came back in time to stop the first ones ordered—after I had paid in the cheque I went to 4, King's Bench Walk, Temple—I saw the name of P B E Frost up there—I went upstairs, but did not see Mr. Frost, only an office boy—I afterwards sent this letter on May 1st (This stated that the cheque had been returned by the bankers, no doubt through some error, and requested Mrs. Baillie to call.) On May 5th I received a telegram and some time after Frost called and said Mrs. Baillie was very much annoyed that the cheque had been dishonoured, or words to that effect, but that she was coming to town in a day or two and would see to it—I think he named a day—I asked him for her address, and he said she had taken a house, but that at first she would probably be staying at the Lang ham Hotel—I am not sure whether Frost called once or twice—nothing resulted from the calls—I paid in the cheque three or four times—it was always returned marked "N S"—afterwards we communicated with the Scotland Yard authorities—I got none of my money up to the time of the arrest—after the arrest of the two prisoners on June 30th the Rev Mr. Mole, a witness in this case, called on me on July 2nd, the day of the first hearing at the police-court—I did not know him before—I was not aware of their arrest then—Mr. Mole gave 10l. to our assistant at the shop and the cheque was given up to him—I was not in then.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. In January I bad supplied books to Mrs. Frost to the amount of 2l. 1s.—I was quite willing to trust her—I have made no criminal charge against her—I was satisfied to wait for my money Re-examined. After the cheque for 10l. had been returned several
times I went to Scotland Yard and gave information to the police—we did not identify her at first as Mrs. Gordon Baillie—we knew her as Mrs. Baillie—I afterwards gave evidence at the police-court.
By MR. KEMP. I do not think I had seen anything in the newspapers at that time, before I went to Scotland Yard, that some charges were being preferred against her—some time before I had seen the account about the crofters, and when the cheque was returned I began to question whether it was not the same person I had known 12 years before.
SARAH FRANKS . I am a dressmaker, of 23, Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square—in April last Mr. and Mrs. Frost called on me—Mrs. Frost spoke to me in his presence about a dress—she called again and ordered a dress; she called several times—she asked me to change this cheque on Smith Payne to self or bearer, dated 2nd May, for 5l., and signed "Gordon Baillie," and endorsed "R P B Frost"—she said she wanted to give the money to a poor woman—I cashed the cheque (MR. CHAMPION stated that the endorsement was like Frost's, but that he had no belief at to whether it was his or not.) I paid the cheque into my bank; it came back, and then I immediately wrote to Mrs. Frost—I put the letter in the letter-box in my house, from whence they are posted—I had this telegram in reply (This, sent by Frost, stated that Mrs. Frost was too unwell to see Miss Franks; that she regretted her letter, and would attend to it at once.) waited a few days, and then wrote a second time to Mrs. Frost, 5, Westminster Chambers—I had this letter from Mr. Frost (MR. CHAMPION stated that to the best of his belief this letter was in Mr. Frost's writing It requested her to put the cheque through the bank again on Tuesday when his effects would be cleared and matters in order.) I received it on May 14th—I put the cheque through my bank again; it was returned on the 15th—I sent it through again on the 17th, and again it was returned—I then put it in the hands of Mr. Herbert, my solicitor—I heard that the prisoners were apprehended, and I received the money from my solicitor.
GEORGE JONES . I am a dairyman, at 23, Wood Street, Westminster—Mr. Williams, who occupied 5, Westminster Chambers, introduced to me Frost, who had become the tenant there, so as to supply him with goods—afterwards Gigner came and gave me an order—he gave me a cheque on a piece of note-paper for 1l.; that was paid—I continued to supply goods, and on 2nd May a sum was owing—Gigner brought me a cheque on Smith Payne, dated 3rd May, for 3l. 3s., payable to Mrs. Thomas, and signed "Gordon Baillie"—I signed the receipt in my book, and gave Gigner 2l. 7s. 6d. change—I knew him as Mr. and Mrs. Frost's servant—I paid the cheque to my contractor, and afterwards received it back marked "N S"—then I went several times to 5, Westminster Chambers, and saw Gigner, and ultimately I saw Mr. Frost—he said he was sorry about the cheque, and told me to present it again—he said he was in difficulties, but did not say what they were—I presented the cheque again three times—then I called at Westminster Chambers, and found a notice up, "Family out"—after the arrest of the prisoners Mr. Champion called on me on the Saturday night—I believe he had money with him—he spoke to me about the defendants, and passed a remark to my wife that he would like to pay the money—he did not pay me; I kept the cheque—afterwards I gave evidence at the police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. This cheque was post dated when it was given to me.
Re-examined. It was post dated seven days—I knew that when I received it; I did not keep it till the date; I paid it away to a customer—it was paid in after 3rd May, when it became due.
JULIA RATCLFFE . I live with my husband at Mr. Johnson's stables, Wilton Road—he lets carriages—on Saturday, 5th May, the prisoners drove up in a cab, and gave me an order for a Victoria for Sunday to go to Stratford to see their children—I asked for the money, and Mrs. Frost said she would not pay me that night, but would give me a cheque on Mon day, signed in her or her husband's name—Mr. Frost was with her; they were both in the office—I supplied the Victoria—the man that drove then took the bill, 25s., on Monday—he came back without the money—on the following Wednesday, the 9th, Mrs. Frost called and left me this cheque for 6l. 10s. (This cheque was on Smith Payne, to self or bearer, dated 12th May, and signed "Gordon Baillie ") I told her I would send her the change, and in the evening I took the 5l. 5s. change, and gave it to Mr. Frost—Gigner told me that Frost was a member of Parliament—Mr. Frost gave me 1l. 5s. out of the 5l. 5s. to pay for a Victoria for the next day, Friday—I supplied the Victoria next day—the cheque came back dishonoured—on 15th May Mr. Johnson received a telegram, which I opened, "See you this evening, Frost"—before that I had not seen either of the prisoners since the return of the cheque—Frost called in the evening and saw Mr. Johnson—next day I received another telegram, "Kindly present cheque to-morrow afternoon"—I paid it in again, and it came back again unpaid—the prisoners were not at 5, Westminster Chambers, after that—we do work for the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway—on Saturday, 19th May, I received this order (produced), and entered it in my 'bus book, and in consequence sent two omnibuses to Victoria Station to meet Mrs.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. We are sole agents for the Chatham and Dover—Gigner told me in Mr. Johnson's office that Frost was member of Parliament for West somewhere—I did not look to see, because I did not believe him—I made no answer to him—I knew the Frosts were living at 5, Westminster Chambers; they told me so—that was all I knew of them.
CHARLES RATCLIFFE . I only saw the Frosts in the office before the cheque was given—on 19th May I received an order from the station master's clerk at Victoria Station, and I took two omnibuses to the station—the prisoners got into our omnibus there, and it was loaded with luggage—they went with the luggage to Parma Lodge, Palace Street, Victoria Street, Pimlico—my man was with us—the female when they saw us said "Here is Hull and Ratliff, too"—I was paid for that job at the time—I went one day to Parma Lodge to see if I could make an arrangement about the 6l. 10s. cheque—I saw Gigner, and I waited, and saw Mr. Frost come home—I asked him about it—he said he was very sorry, and he wrote me not to take it back, and to wait till he could come round, and see Mr. Johnson (A letter of 23rd May, from Pereival Frost to the witness, was read, asking him not to present the cheque again, as he had been so many times disappointed by his client, and that he would let him have cash for the cheque.) The driver of the omnibus took the money.
—in February I supplied coals to 5, Westminster Chambers—I knew Gigner there as servant—he gave me a cheque on Smith Payne for 5l. 10s., out of which I took 1l. 14s. 6d. due to me for coals supplied to Mr. and Mrs. Frost, and gave him the change 3l. 15s. 6d.—the cheque was returned from the bankers—I went to 5, Westminster Chambers, and saw Gigner there; I told him I had had the cheque returned, he asked me to give it to him—I said "No"—he said "Will you pay it in again, and it will be met"—I paid it in again, and it was met—I continued to supply coals, and then on 9th May a sum was due for them—Gigner gave me this cheque for 4l. dated 28th April, signed "Gordon Baillie," and endorsed by "R P B Frost," and I advanced him 1l. on it; afterwards the cheque was paid in and returned marked "N S"—I kept it for a fortnight or three weeks, and wrote about it, but got no reply—I never got the money (MR. CHAMPION stated that to the best of his belief the endorsement "R P B Frost" was in Frost's handwriting.)
ELIZABETH LLOTD . I am a milliner, at 5, Lower Belgrave Street—at the beginning of June the two prisoners came in a brougham on a Saturday afternoon—I supplied Mrs. Frost with writing materials; she wrote a letter—she gave me an order for a hat—she said she was Mrs. Frost, of Parma Lodge—I made the hat, and sent it within less than a fortnight by Miss Wells, my assistant, and a bill for 21s.; the next day Mrs. Frost called for her parasol, which she had left—on 7th June, I think, she called again and brought a cheque; she said she had not brought the bill, but she would pay for the hat (The cheque was for 8l., payable to Messrs Durant and Co., or bearer, signed Gordon Baillie; it had been dated 4th April, and that date was altered to 6th June.) I had not sufficient change in the house; I gave 4l. 10s. to her, and sent the balance in the evening—she said she wanted to pay some poor person, who wanted the money to pay it away—Mr. Smith, a neighbour, gave me the money for the cheque, and I handed him the cheque in the evening—about a week after Mr. Smith returned the cheque to me marked "N S"—I paid him back his money, and kept the cheque—I wrote to Mrs. Frost asking for the 8l. on Monday—I received this answer (MR. CHAMPION stated that to the best of his belief this was in Frost's writing It requested Miss Lloyd to call that evening and bring the cheque with her.) I went to Parma Lodge on the Thursday; I think I saw Mrs. Frost then; she asked me if I had the cheque with me—I said "No; "I had it, I would not give it up—she said "It is all right, I am so very sorry you should have had all this trouble Tell Mr. Smith to pass the cheque through his bankers again, and the money will be paid"—I conveyed that message to Mr. Smith, who passed it through again, but it was returned to me—before 30th June I received this letter (MR. CHAMPION stated this was in Frost's hand writing It requested Miss Lloyd to call on Mrs. Frost next day, and said that she need not be anxious.) I sent Miss Wells several times to try and get the money; I never received any of it—on June 30th I wrote this letter (This informed Mrs. Frost that unless the 8l was paid that day, June 30th, Miss Lloyd would go to the Magistrate on Monday.) On the evening of the 30th June I sent Miss Walls to Parma Lodge, and she was so long gone that I went and I found Inspector Marshall there.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. I did not see either of the prisoners on the 30th—Inspector Marshall went upstairs, and came down and said I could not see the prisoners—I heard they were in custody—Marshall
did not tell me not to take my money, he said be would see me later on; he sent someone—no one advised me not to take the money—they said if I would give up the cheque I should hear about it later on, and then they came for me on Monday to go to Westminster to prosecute.
ELLEN WELLS . I am in Miss Lloyd's service; I was sent by her to Parma Lodge to try and get the money for the cheque—I saw Gigner on several occasions and Frost on one—he said he would give me the money, but he had not got it in the house; he said he would let Miss Lloyd know what he would do, and I think he said he would write that evening.
Cross-examined by MR. PARTRIDGE. I think he did write that evening JOHN FOSTER SHIERRIS. I am a clerk in the employment of Messrs Smith, Payne, and Smith, of Lombard Street—I bad never seen the female prisoner, I knew her by the name of A Gordon Baillie—her account was opened on 7th May, 1885; this is the signature in which it was opened, "Gordon Battue"—when we closed the account in 1887 there was a small debtor balance of 1l. 19s. 6d.—this is a certified copy of the account—the account was reopened on February 10th, 1888, with 200l.—on 13th February a cheque-book, E 4694, with 24 stamped cheques, was given—some of the cheques that have been produced in this case are from that book; the second one on 5th April, and the third one on 23rd April—there were a number of payments made in during April, amounting together to about 57l.—the last cash payment in was 7l. 10s. on 26th April 6l. was to the credit of the customer—I produce a certified list of returned cheques taken from my town returns book, in which all returned cheques are entered; it is a book kept in the ordinary course of our business, and forms part of our books—there are 38 cheques, representing 287l. 14s. 4d., between 12th March and 30th June—the last cheque that was honoured was on 1st May, for 1l.—the other cheques that had been drawn but not honoured previous to that ware larger than the balance, and could not be met—I know Mrs. Gordon Baille's signature; the cheques in this case are in her writing—the state of the account now is that there is a credit balance of 1l. 9s. 10d.—we never held any securities or deeds on her behalf; there was no authority to overdraw—it is not true that a cheque for 200l. from Scotland or else where was paid in, and that owing to some informality in the signature it had to be returned.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. On 10th February, 1888, two 100l. notes were paid in—when the account was opened 1,290l. was paid in on 12th May, 1885; then in July 600l.; later, another 600l.; in February, 1886, 400l.; in May, 1886, 1,700l.; and October 8, 700l.; and again in October, 492l. 10s.—in the intervals only small balances were left—from time to time considerable sums were paid in—I knew nothing about Mrs. Gordon Baillie except what I found in our books—I found that at times she was in possession of large sums of money—we are guided by the circumstances whether we send back cheques of customers of this kind who have overdrawn their accounts; we judge of our customers.
Cross-examined by MR. PARTRIDGE. Frost's family have had a great many business transactions with our bank—he was trustee under his father's will with his sister, and considerable sums passed through the bank—I have always known him as an honourable young man.
Re-examined. I know of a receiving order against him in bankruptcy
—I don't know the date—I never heard of, or knew, or saw, a Mr. Gordon Baillie—the first address of Mrs. Gordon Baillie that I had was 4, Bryanston Street, Portland Square—I don't know who was living there.
By MR. PARTRIDGE. I know no details of this bankruptcy—I do not know that no single private debt was proved against him.
ANNIE BASSETT . I am single, and live at Mr. Butler's, a florist, of 171, Sloane Street—I know the female prisoner as Mrs. Bodley Frost—at the beginning of June she bought some plants of the value of 1l. 17s. of us, and on 13th June she gave me this cheque for 10l., dated 15th June, on Herries Farquhar to self or order, signed and endorsed "A Bodley Prost"—she owed 1l. 17s.; I gave her the difference between that and 10l.—I paid the cheque into the bank in due course—I received it back marked "Have written for orders"—I paid it in again—I wrote—I received this letter (MR. CHAMPION said he thought this was in Frost's writing It regretted Mr. Butler had been put to inconvenience; that he had only returned last night, and could not understand how it happened; that he would inquire into it and see Mr. Butler on Tuesday at Parma Lodge.) I wrote again—I did not pay the cheque in after a second letter—it remained in my hands unpaid until after the prisoners were in custody; then on 2nd July a gentleman called on me and paid me a 5l. note and 5l. in gold MR. CHAMPION stated that to the best of his belief the body of the cheque was in Frost's handwriting.)
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. I have been paid this money—nothing is owing to me at the present time.
WILLIAM GATZAL . I am employed at Mr. John Harman's, a hatter, of 422, Strand—on 10th June Frost drove up in a brougham, and selected a silk hat and a felt hat for himself, of the value of 1l. 11s. 6d.—he asked that they should be sent to Parma Lodge, Buckingham Gate—he did not pay for them—I took the hats myself the same night—I saw Gigner; I did not get the money; I left the hats on the condition that they were to be paid for the next day—they were not then paid for—on June 26th the female prisoner came in a brougham—she said "I have called to pay my husband's account, Mr. Frost, of Parma Lodge; I also want a hat for my servant"—she gave me the size, and said we could send it on—she produced a cheque for 2l. 15s. on Herries, Farquhar, and Co., signed "A Bodley Frost, "or "R Bodley Frost, "I could not say which—I gave 16s. change, and paid it into my bank—it was returned dishonoured—on 28th June I welt to Parma Lodge and saw Gigner—on 2nd July, after the prisoners were in custody, Mr. Champion called and gave me 3l. in gold, for which I gave a receipt—I could not find the cheque—he said "Destroy it"
HENRY WHITE . I am manager to Mr. Henry Lawrence, of Old Bond Street—on 1st June the female prisoner called in a brougham—she had her sight examined, and gave an order for a pair of gold spectacles, value 3l. 13s. 6d.—the other prisoner came in while she was there, and they left together—the spectacles were to be made—on 8th June the female prisoner called again, approved of the spectacles, and took them away—she also ordered a pair of glasses with a long handle, at 3l. 13s. 6d., to be made—on 15th June the other things were made and sent—some time before 30th June she called and complained that the handles of the glasses were not quite long enough—she offered to pay
for the gold spectacles, and gave me this cheque for 6l. 10s. on Herries, Farquhar, and Co., dated 15th June, payable to self or order, and signed and endorsed "A Bodley Frost"—I deducted 3l. 13s. 6d., the price of the spectacles, and gave her 2l. 16s. 6d., the change—the other glasses with the handle were to be returned—afterwards Frost called and took out some articles to Mrs. Frost, who was in the brougham, apologizing for troubling us, and saying she was not well—she ordered something of the value of five guineas—on 28th June he called for the glasses that had been ordered, and asked if they were ready; they were not—he wanted a gold monogram or crest put on the handle—I delayed making those—he asked me if I had paid the cheque into the bank; I had not then—he asked me to hold it over for a day or two, as his wife was changing her bankers—I promised to do so—I spoke to Mr. Lawrence about it and went to Parma Lodge, where I saw Gigner, who was dressed as a butler—I asked for Frost; he was not in—I asked Gigner what he was and if Parma Lodge belonged to him—he said "Yes, "he thought his master was a solicitor, as he had offices in Throgmorton Street and High Holborn I believe—I returned to my shop and this letter was written to Mr. Frost (This said that the cheque could not be held over and that it would be paid in to-morrow.) We received no reply and the cheque was paid in on June 30th—it was returned marked "No account"—we have lost the gold spectacles and 2l. 16s.—the ones with the long handles were returned to us—after the prisoners were in custody the Rev Mr. Mole called and made inquiries and I returned him the cheque and got cash for it—I did not then know the prisoners were in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. The whole of our claim has been paid.
CHARLES WHITE . I am a chemist of 45, Buckingham Palace Road—Gigner came and brought me this order on June 6th for drugs (MR. CHAMPION stated this was in Frost's writing to the best of his belief.) I supplied them—they came to 10s.; he took them away—they were not paid for—he called again and gave me four other orders (Also in Frost's writing)—I supplied those goods, which came to 1l. 10s.—on June 23rd Gigner called with a note and a cheque for 3l. 10s. (In the note Mrs. Frost requested him to cash the cheque and to send a bottle of peroxide of hydrogen.) I declined to cash the cheque—on June 27th Gigner brought a cheque dated June 27th on Herries Farquhar for 3l. 10s. signed "A Bodley Frost"—I gave him 2l. for it—I paid it into my account and it was returned—I went to Parma Lodge, I saw Gigner and waited till Mrs. Frost came in—I told her I wanted 3l. 10s. for the cheque and should wait for it—I showed it to her—she said there was a mistake in the banking account, she was transferring her banking account and she would pay me—I waited till Mr. Frost came in, he knew nothing about it—Mrs. Frost admitted writing the cheque—he had not the money to give me then, but said he would bring it to me in the morning—I said I would go to Rochester Row police-court if I did not get my money—on Friday morning, June 29th, Mr. Frost brought me 3l. 10s. in gold and I gave the cheque back to him.
JOHN PONSONBY . I am a partner in Messrs Herries, Farquhar and Co., bankers, of 16, St. James' Street—I received this letter (This dated from Parma Lodge, June 4th, 1888, and signed "Annie Bodley Frost" stated that she was desirous of opening an account with them to receive various amounts from Scotland and to keep a current account.) I replied with this of June 6th,
that we would have much pleasure in opening an account in her name—on June 8th Mrs. Frost called—she referred to the letter she had written on June 4th; she said she wished to open an account—I agreed to let her do so; I took her signature in this book, "A Bodley Frost"—that was the signature to the cheques; I gave her this cheque-book for which she paid hall-a-crown—she was alone she went away taking the cheque-book—no money was ever paid into the account; cheques were presented Which were not met—on June 18th I sent this letter (Saying a cheque for 15l had been presented for payment, and as they received no remittance to her account, they feared there was some mistake and had returned it for further orders.) I received this answer (This stated that Mrs. Frost had drawn a cheque for 10l. as she was advised that money from Scotland had been placed to her account, and that she to would see the matter was put right) On June 27th I wrote this letter (Informing her that a cheque for 15l had been presented, and that as no funds had been remitted, they were obliged to return it marked "Refer to drawer ") We had no securities, no money had been paid in.
HENRY MARSHALL (Inspector Criminal Investigation Department) I saw Frost write after I arrested him—I know his writing; the body of these letters of June 4th and 20th to Herries Farquhar are in Frost's writing to the best of my belief—I believe the body of the cheques are in his writing; I have not seen Mrs. Frost write.
ERNEST EBENEZER SAMUEL WILLIAMS . I live at 56, Finsbury Road, Brighton—I keep a set of chambers at 5, Westminster Chambers, Victoria Street; I know the two prisoners and Gigner, a their servant—I let the chambers to Mr. Frost at the end of February—he gave as references Mr. Champion, of Paternoster Row, and Mr. Ormsby, of King's Bench Walk, Temple—I made inquiries and found the references satisfactory and let him the chambers—he paid me in advance 8l. by a cheque of Gordon Baillie on Smith Payne; that was honoured—I afterwards saw all three prisoners at the chambers; nothing more was paid—at the end of May I applied for the second amount of rent; I could not get it—I got nothing at the end of the three months—on May 18th they left; 16l. was then owing—I put in a distress, but recovered nothing—I knew the female prisoner as Mrs. Gordon Baillie.
CHARLES SPENCER SMITH . I let the house, Parma Lodge, Palace Street, to Mr. Frost from 17th of May at a rental of three and a half guineas a week under this agreement; I am the occupier of that house—I took the inventory of the furniture and Front cheeked it—14, guineas was paid down on signing the agreement, and 14 guineas was subsequently paid in notes and cash; the rent was payable in advance—the last payment was made about 17th or 18th June—I have been shown a quantity of property produced by pawnbrokers which was in the house at the time I let it.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Mrs. Frost came first bringing an order from an agent; and she went over the house, and said her husband was engaged at the Houses of Parliament for some months, and wished to take a house in the neighbourhood; after she had seen it she thought it would suit him, and she said she would bring him later on—I did not know that Frost's mother was a lady of wealth and position—the last payment was about a fortnight before they were taken into custody—my source of knowledge where the goods were came through Champion,
who produced a number of pawn tickets—Frost's sister came to me and offered to redeem the things and restore them to me—I did not know there was a formal correspondence with Messrs Wontner, and that they were instructed by Inspector Marshall not to allow it to be done—I made the charge of stealing at the police-court immediately after Mr. Champion produced the pawn tickets—the value of the goods missing from my house amounts to 50l., the value of the goods referred to at the police court was 25l. perhaps—I am not aware that I told Miss Frost that I would not take my goods back; as soon as she knew that the pawnbrokers were liable to have an order made on them by the judge to restore, she said it was not worth while to pay for them—I had a letter from Mr. Dutton on 24th August, Miss Frost came to see me after that, and the withdrawal of her offer was subsequent to that—I heard of no formal offer to restore the goods—I had no letter from Messrs Wontner—I was not told by Marshall or Messrs Wontner that an offer was made on 17th September and refused—I was no party to the refusal
Re-examined. They were committed for trial before 17th September—I let my house furnished—after the prisoners were in custody I found a quantity of my goods had been pawned, and then I charged them with stealing—all that Mr. Besley has referred to took place since the committal.
ALFRED OLDFIELD . I am an assistant to Joseph Raper, a pawnbroker, of 32, Great Queen Street—on 24th May Frost pawned at our shop a quilt, five sheets, four tablecloths, twelve table napkins for 1l. 12s. in the name of Fraser, 19, Sussex Street—this is the duplicate I gave—on the 25th he pawned a pair of curtains, a quilt, six sheets, ten pillow cases, and a toilet cover for 1l. 10s., in the name of Fraser, 18, Sussex Street—on 18th June he pawned a pair of blankets and a pair of curtains for 16s. in the same name—I have shown those things to Mr. Spencer Smith, who has identified some of them—he could not recognise some which were marked "Gordon Baillie."
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Frost came in a cab with the parcel carefully packed—the things have been properly taken care of—they are just as valuable as they were—I don't recollect Mr. Champion coming—Mr. Marshall came twice and produced all the tickets, and we showed him the property—we would have let these pledges be redeemed.
GEORGE WHITE . I am assistant to Mr. Sutton, pawnbroker, of 17, Stockbridge Terrace, Pimlico—a French clock and a card tray were pawned with us on 24th May for 25s. by the prisoner Frost in the name of Brockerton, 18, Sussex Street—I showed them to Mr. Spencer Smith, who identified them.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I had not seen Mr. Champion before Mr. Spencer Smith came with Marshall—I did not know the tickets had been handed up by Frost—the articles have not been damaged while they have been in my custody.
THOMAS GAMMON . I am a pawnbroker at 44, Wilton Road—on 19th May Mrs. Gordon Baillie came and pledged nineteen sheets and three tablecloths for 4l., in the name of Mrs. Ann Fraser, 4, Vauxhall Road—I did not take them in myself, I was present—they have been shown to Mr. Spencer Smith, who has identified them—on 23rd June Mr. Frost
came and pawned a sheet and eighteen pillow cases and a remnant of stuff (which was not identified) for 10s.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. When I said at the police court that Frost had pledged goods, I Said nothing about Mrs. Frost having pledged some, because I did not know it then—I had seen her at the shop more than once, I can't say how often; I knew her as a customer—I can't say that I have ever taken anything in pledge from her myself—I did not take these sheets and tablecloths from her, I saw her bring them—on closely examining these sheets after I had taken them I found the name Smith—it was in the evening.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Marshall came and told me Frost had told him about the 4l. pledging—I took the 10s. pledge in myself from Frost—I suppose the value of the goods would be much more than the amount advanced on them—every care has been taken of them.
Re-examined. I did not know Mrs. Ann Fraser by any other name—I was present on 19th May, but did not take in these things from her—William Bateman did, he wrote this ticket for 4l.
WILLIAM BATEMAN . I was assistant to Mr. Gammon on 19th May, when the female prisoner came in a cab with 19 sheets and four table cloths, which I took in pledge for 4l.—I wrote out this ticket—I recognise the female prisoner as Mrs. Fraser
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. I saw her twice in the shop—on the other occasion she pledged something else, I cannot remember what—I have left the service, but the entry would be in our books—I have not been taken to identify her—I did hot see her in the police court—I have not seen her from that day to this—I knew whom I was coming to see.
Re-examined. I have not the slightest doubt she is the woman who brought these things
SPENCER SMITH (Re-examined) These various articles pawned have been shown to me by the different pawnbrokers; their Value is 40l. to 50l.; they are household furniture, clock, bed linen—they were all safe in Parma Lodge when I gave possession of it to Frost on 18th May.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Very likely I was in communication with Miss Frost on 13th September—from information she gave to Marshall we knew about the chenille curtains and 19 sheets at Gammon's—the object of my letter of 13th September was that the things might be traced; she came to see me—that was long after I had made the charge at the police-court—some time in August or September she said she would restore any missing goods, and afterwards, when she knew the pawnbrokers would be compelled to give them up, she said she did not see why she should do it—no rent was due on 80th June when the prisoners were taken into custody—Frost took the house for 26 weeks; he paid me for the eight weeks he was at liberty, so that 18 weeks are due—I have taken possession, the key was missing; I got in by the servant in the house, and took possession through Mr. Champion Re-examined. The 40l. or 50l. includes some goods that were not traced, and are missing; they amount to 4l. or 5l.—I was desirous of getting information where they had gone to REV WILLIAM EDMUND MOLE. I am a Clerk in Holy Orders—I am a friend of Mrs. Frost, Frost's mother—she lives at 20, Woburn Place, and is an elderly lady under medical treatment—she supplied me with money, and I went to Messrs Hatchard and paid 10l., and they gave me
the cheque on 2nd July after the prisoners were in custody; then I went to Mr. Herbert, the solicitor acting for Miss Franks, on 2nd July, and gave his clerk 5l., and received the cheque and; had a receipt—I also went and paid Lawrence, the optician, 6l. 10s.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have known the old lady, Mrs. Frost, some time—she has an income of 2,000l. or 3,000l. a year, she is a widow, Frost is her son; I hare known him some time—he has Sisters—I was interested on behalf of the family in trying to restore the money—in the three cases I gave money for the full amount of the cheques, which covered the goods and the money—the money was provided by Mrs. Frost—I did not go with Mr. Champion—I left my name and address at the places I went to, and through that Marshall came to me and insisted on my giving evidence—I can speak highly of Frost's character as an honourable man, that is the reputation he has borne.
Re-examined. I know he was bankrupt; I do not know the amount of his debts, or if he got his discharge—I had not seen anything of him for 12 or 18 months I should think—I beard he had gone abroad, and I knew he came back to England quite recently—he was not living at home with his mother—I did not know where he was living—I did this out of kindness to the mother—I went before the Magistrate, who told me I had better not interfere further—I was called as a witness to give evidence.
By MR. BESLEY AS to the bankruptcy in 1886 I was told there was not a single private debt, and that it was owing to Mr. Bebro landing him in speculations as to companies.
HENRY H CHAMPION (Re-examined) I live at 10, Gray's Inn Place—I was at school with Frost; his name is Robert Percival Bodley Frost—I heard of his arrest, and after that saw his mother, and got money to take up these cheques—I took up Butler's cheque for 10l., and I paid Harman, the hatter's account, to Gatzal for 10l.—on the morning of 9th July I found a large number, I think 11, pawn tickets in a room at Parma Lodge, and handed them to Marshall after consulting a solicitor—that was after they had been in custody nine days, I should think—I was acting for the mother, who is an old lady with no male relatives—I went before the Magistrate, who told me I had better not do anything further—this letter of 18th January, signed "P B Frost," looks like Frost's writing (This stated that he had just returned from abroad, and found a summons had been left far Mrs. Go don Baillie; that she had never lived at Woburn Place, though her letters had been received by him, as he transacted business for her prior to her departure for Australia, and that he would communicate with her in the Highlands, where she was staying.) During his father's lifetime, after Frost left school, he had occupation in London, but afterwards he was living independently—I know he had some relations with Mrs. Gordon Baillie, what they were I don't know—his father died about 1880—this letter of 21st January appears to be in his writing (This stated he was instructed by Mrs. Gordon Baillie to ask for assistance for the distressed crofters, as she was sending out blankets next week It was signed," C H Morrison, private secretary.,") I never knew Frost go by any other name than his own.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. I think I have heard she had a private secretary of the name of Morrison—I know she did take an interest in the case of the crofters, and that she gave a considerable sum of money
to the crofters in Skye in 1884—I heard that she was straitened considerably by what she had expended on the erecters; I do not know it of my own knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I was with Frost at Malborough College from 1872 to 1876, I think—his father died in 1879 or 1880—I was away from England then—the son acted as trustee under his father's will—the estate was better than was expected; it was quite 5,000l. a year and 35,000l. in cash—there was a marriage settlement on the old lady of 600l. or 700l. a year—her family was well to do—Frost won a scholarship at Marlborough—he was at a shipbroker's in the City for some years before bis father died—he left the City because his prospects were so much improved—he has had several large sums of money, and has been in possession of ample funds ever since I knew him, 400l. or 500l., I should say—an 1880 or 1881 he went with me to America for some months—I heard his bankruptcy was owing to two promoters of public companies inducing him to go into speculations in a bank in Brussels, and a brickfield and buildings—I afterwards came across the son of Bebro, who is in gaol I believe now, and I believe Bebro himself is in gaol—Frost's family invested a few thousands for him, and he became bankrupt for a large sum, not proportionate to the amount he had put in; that was done to protect the rest of the: property—I should have done it myself without dishonour, I should think—I have never heard of any private debts of his—I took these cheques up that there should be no loss for the money or the goods—I would have taken up every one of them if it had been permitted—his mother instructed me that she was desirous that no one should lose any thing by his having run short, and his debts would have been paid as they have been before—I was acting as I might have done if he had been my brother, he having no brother in London—Frost, through me, gave every information as to Mr. Smith's goods, so that he might not be a loser—he told me where the tickets were after the detective had failed to find them—there was no rent due on 18th June when the prisoners were taken into custody—I saw Mr. Smith first a day or two after, the arrest—I assisted in giving him possession of the place—I said to him I had no doubt that Frost and his relatives would be very glad to spare him any inconvenience from the loss of the things, and about the remainder of the agreement and compensation for not leaving the place clean—every assistance was given by Frost to restore the goods that had been taken from the house.
Re-examined. I saw Mrs. Gordon Baillie, on one occasion only; about three years ago at a small public hall—I next saw her about nine months ago, after her return from Australia or New Zealand—I know some of the crofters who were in Skye in 1884; I know their signatures and have seen those signatures to a testimonial thanking her for giving the money—I did not know she was collecting subscriptions—from the time Frost left his occupation in the City, from 1880 to 1881, he had an income of 400l. or 500l. up to 1885 or so; then he had 3,000l. or 4,000l. from his family to go into this business—since then he has had money from his mother; he had some in the early part of the year—he has not been earning any money; it was his share of the family money, I suppose.
By MR. BESLEY. The bankruptcy took place in May, 1886, and up to
1885 I had soon him almost every day; he had up to 1885 hardly commenced the business—they must have got the money from him in a few months—I know he had 200l. or 300l. to go to Australia, and in February, 1887, he had 400l. or 600l.—I should say he had roughly 400l. or 500l. a year.
HENRY MARSHALL (Re-examined) In June this year I began to receive complaints with regard to the prisoners—I made inquiries and saw some of these cheques—I applied for a warrant, taking Pogson, Hone, and Jones with me—on 30th June I had a warrant for the apprehension of the prisoners and Gigner—on 30th June I was outside Parma Lodge, and about half-past 4 I saw Frost leave the house and get into a brougham standing at the door—I followed in a hansom cab—he called at two shops and returned to Parma Lodge and went in—I then saw Gigner leave the house—after watching fur some time, I placed two men one at each side of the house, and knocked at the door several times—Gigner opened the door—I said "Are Mr. and Mrs. Frost in?" he said "No, out of town"—I said "I want to see them rather particularly"—I put my foot in the doorway and eventually got in—I told Gigner I was an inspector of police from Scotland Yard, and that I wanted to see them very particularly—I said "I know Mr. Frost is in, for I saw him enter"—when Gigner found I persisted in going over the house he hurriedly ran downstairs into a room—I took him by the collar and put him into the breakfast room, where the prisoners were—I said to them "I am Inspector Marshall, here is my official card, I hold a warrant for the arrest of all three of you, so consider yourselves in custody"—she said "Oh, Mr. Marshall, sit down and tell us all about it"—I said "What is your name?" addressing Gigner—he did not reply—Mrs. Gordon Baillie said his name was James, and subsequently that it was Gigner, and I said to her then "I think you are known as Mrs. Gordon Baillie"—she said "Yes"—I read the warrant, which charged conspiracy against all three—she said when I had read it "How can it be conspiracy?" and addressing James she said "Have not those poor tradesmen been paid?"; and she said "Poor James has only done what he has been told"—that was Gigner—she said he was a servant—she asked me to explain, and I said "It is alleged you have conspired together to defraud many people In Pogson's case Gigner first went and got an introduction by making a small purchase, and Mr. Frost then took some part"—I produced a small memorandum about the servant being supplied with meat—Frost said "That is my writing"—I said to Mrs. Baillie "And you have followed up by drawing cheques that were dishonoured"—I produced the cheque for 7l. on Smith Payne, signed "Gordon Baillie"—she looked at it and said "Yes," that was her cheque and signature—I showed her Jones's and Hone's cheques—she said those were also in her hand—I said they had been dishonoured—she said to Gigner "Has not Pogson been paid?"—Gigner did not respond—then she said it was only a debt, as she had paid Pogson 2l. on account; she said there were plenty of securities at her bankers, if there was no money—there was a good deal of confusion, and I called in the other officers and told them they would all have to go with me to the police-station—I directed the officers to search Frost and Gigner—Mott handed me a letter-case, which I saw him take from Frost's coat pocket; I found in it these two cheques in the same hand, with the signature "Gordon Baillie." (one
of these was dated 18th March, to self or hearer, for 13l., and the other was dated 27th April, for 15l. 10s., to Frost and Co., and endorsed R P B Frost.) I told the constables to take Frost and Gigner into custody, and I was about to take Mrs. Frost myself, when she said she was unwell, could I not leave her till Monday morning—I sent for a doctor, who pronounced her well enough to go, and I took her in a cab—while I was in the house Miss Lloyd came; one of my officers said she had come; Mrs. Frost said "Let Mr. Champion see her"—I saw Miss Lloyd, who gave me information, which I communicated briefly to Mrs. Gordon Baillie—as I took her to the station I said there were a large number of complaints about her—she said they would all be paid—I returned to the house after they were taken to the station; I made a search and found a quantity of papers, which I have handed over, together with the cheque-book on Herries, Farquhar, found in a desk in the house, to Messrs Wontner and Sons, solicitors for the prosecution.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I saw Frost's sister on 12th September—I have heard they are wealthy people, I don't know it of my own knowledge—I can believe there was earnest anxiety on the part of the mother and sister that no loss should occur to any one; after the prisoners were in custody they were very anxious to compromise the matter—at the time I got the warrant, on 30th June, the only three cases on which I got it were Pogson's, Jones's, and Hone's—I also mentioned Miss Lloyd to the prisonors—Mrs. Baillie said the old man, Gigner, could not have been guilty of conspiracy, for he had only done what he was told—I cannot say she said that Frost had done nothing at all but at her request—she said "It is no conspiracy, neither Mr. Frost nor James had anything to do with the cheques"—I cannot say I was in possession of the apartments for 10 days, I put no officers in—I made a pretty good search myself—Mr. Champion did not bring me these pawn brokers' pledge notes, I demanded them of him; I knew he had them, not from his information, I had heard he had them in his possession; when I asked him the question he prevaricated—I got them from him after he had consulted Mr. Dutton—I knew nothing of a request for me to produce the tickets at the pawnshops, so that the goods might be redeemed, or of Mr. Wontner postponing answering the letter till they had consulted me.
HERBERT GEORGE MUSKETT . I am a solicitor and a clerk in Messrs Wontner and Sons' office; they are acting for the Director of Public Prosecutions—I have looked through the papers which Inspector Marshall handed to me—I produced three cheque books on Smith, Payne and Smith, in which I find the counterfoils of the cheques that hare been given in evidence—I have found the Tetter of 21st January, signed C H Morrison—I found a half sheet of paper on which are a number of specimen signatures, "A Frost," "A Bodley Frost," "A Bodely Frost," "A Bondly Frost," in Mrs. Gordon Baillie's writing, as though she had been practising—I find a summons issuing from the resident magistrate at New Zealand against Annie White, wife of James Ashton White, for 7l. due to Mr. Weston, of New Zealand; a judgment summons in bankruptcy and a writ dated 16th March, 1888, and a writ against R P B Frost for 30l.
Cross-examined by MR. KEMP. The writ of Elliott against Frost has not
been paid—this writ for 64l. 9s. has been paid, I have not referred to that.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. The writ of Miss Elliott against Frost, of March, 1888, has not been paid—I have seen Miss Elliott.
MR. POLAND said that if the prisoners were going to assert that they were husband and wife he had evidence of Annie, Frost's marriage with Mr. While. MR. KEMP stated that Annie Frost had been divorced from Mr. White, and had married Frost, but that he could not prove it, as to do that would have involved the great expense of bringing witnesses from New Zealand, and that as she was indicted for conspiracy not only with Frost, but also with Gigner, that was abandoned, and the matter would rest as it was.
H H CHAMPION (Re-examined) I was negotiating an advance of 500l. for Frost about a fortnight before he was arrested; I had been to his mother about—in February this year, 350l. was put into my hands, and I handed it to him
Frost received good character.
GUILTY . A previous conviction of Annie Frost, in the name of Mary Ann Appely Bruce, on 19th December, 1882, of fraud was proved, upon which there was a sentence ofNine Months' Hard Labour Inspector Mar shall stated that he had a long list of frauds committed by her extending over a period of fifteen years in various parts of the world, and in as many as forty different names.
ANNIE FROST— Five Years' Penal Servitude. ROBERT FROST— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The RECORDER expressed the opinion of himself and the committing Magistrate that great credit was due to Inspector Marshall for the manner in which he had acted in the case.
LESLEY PLEADED GUILTY. MR. JONES Prosecuted.
CHARLES BALA . I am a porter at Netting Hill—on 10th September, in the afternoon, I met Lesley in Newgate Street—I had some conversation with him, in consequence of which I took a note which he gave me to Messrs Copestake's—I saw it opened and given to Mr. Crampton—I had a parcel given to me, which I took to Holborn Viaduct, as Lesley had told me to meet him there—I saw him there, and he told me to go on down the road—I was just going in at Messrs oetzmann's door when, Lesley's van came up—he took me into a public-house, and as we came out we were both arrested by the detective—we were taken to the station, and next morning I was discharged, and called as a witness—when I was at Oetzmann's I saw Lesley nod to Smith, who was standing just outside at the corner—I had not seen him before—at the time Lesley engaged me he said he had lost his man somewhere about the City, and he wanted somebody to carry the parcel for him—afterwards, outside Oetzmann's, he said his man had got drunk j that was ust after he saw Smith.
PERCY CRAMPTON . I am a member of the firm of Copestake and Co., Bow Churchyard—on 10th September Bala was brought to me by one of our men—he produced an order; he had the goods mentioned in the order.
FREDERICK DAVIS (City Detective). On the afternoon of 10th September, from information I received, I went to Messrs Copestake—I there saw Bala—I saw him leave the premises—I followed him to Holborn Viaduct—I there saw Lesley speak to him; they separated—Bala went westward and Lesley eastward—I followed Bala to this side of Tottenham Court Road, where I le t one of Messrs Copestake's employes following Bala, while I looked out for Lesley—I saw him in company with Smith in Oxford Street about a quarter of an hour or 20 minutes after I had first seen him—they got on a 'bus at the top of Tottenham Court Road—they rode to Hampstead Road; I lost them there—I returned down Tottenham Court Road, and met Mr. Stamp, one of Copestake's men—I followed, Bala to Messrs Oetzinann's—I saw Lesley run up and stop him as he was entering the premises; he had just got to the door—when Lesley spoke to Bala I saw Smith drop back—Lesley took the boy to a public-house—I followed them, and Smith followed behind for a short distance; he then crossed the street—I subsequently arrested Lesley and Bala as they were coming out of the public-house—Smith was not taken at time.
SIMON ORBACH . I am apprentice to a confectioner—on 10th September I was in the Old Bailey—I saw Lesley; we had some conversation—another boy named Bowman was with me—he went to Morley's and I went away—I saw Lesley again about 20 minutes to 1—he came up to me, and asked me if Bowman had returned—I said "No"—he said if he should return I was to tell him to wait for him at the Old Bailey—he gave me a description of a man he was looking for with a light coat and a moustache—he said that man had got drunk, and he did not want to get him into a row—I saw Smith at Mansion House; he had a moustache.
MARCUS BOWMAN . I am an apprentice to a pastrycook—I was with Orbach in the Old Bailey on this afternpon—I saw Lesley; in consequence of some conversation with him I went to Messrs Morley in Wood Street with a letter which he gave me—I saw the letter opended; this order was inside it—I left that with Messrs Morley, and they gave me a parcel of six umbrellas; I took it to the Old Bailey; Lesley said I was to meet him there, and if he was not there I was to go to Gay's in Great Portland Street—I did not see him in the Old Bailey; I went on to Gay's, where a detective came in and took the parcel from me.
Cross-examined. At the time of the engagement he said his porter went in to have a drink and he had lost him, and he did not want to get him into a row, so he would have me and would give me 6d. Re-examined. He did not describe the porter to me.
shirts looked out and sent to the entering room; their value would be £6 12s.—I saw and identified them at the police-court.
PERCY THOMAS CRISP . I am in Messrs Welsh, Margetson, and Co.'s entering room—on 8th September I packed up two dozen shirts, and delivered them to the boy who brought the order—Mr. Gay is a customer of ours; he came into the department half an hour after the goods had been dispatched.
FREDERICK WILSON . I am assistant to Walter Gray, of 56, Great Portland Street—this order is on one of Mr. Gay's printed forms; it is not his signature or writing; they are not my orders or the orders of any one having authority to order goods—there is no one, as far as I know, whose initials are "H.S."—no one in his employ is B Evans—our bill heads are printed by Mr. Taylor.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSIEAD (City Detective Constable). About 1.30 am on 15th September I found Smith in custody at Bow Street—I told him I was a police-officer from the City and that I should take him into custody, and he would be charged with Lesley, who was there charged with obtaining goods from various firms, mentioning the names of Copestake's and other firms—he said "Yes, that is quite right, I was with him; I did not send the orders in and I did not send the lads in; he sent them himself"—I brought him to the City; he was charged; he said "Yes; I plead guilty to three cases, Messrs Copestakes, Welsh Margetson, and Morley;" and he further told me, "You will find the shirts from Welsh Margetson pawned, one dozen at the pawnshop next the Yorkshire Grey, Gray's Inn Road, the other dozen at the corner of the street in the King's Cross Road, opposite the police-station; I went with him on each occasion and I remained outside"—I went to the pawnbroker and found tiie goods there—he said u Lesley went to a place in Great Portland Place and got the billheads, where he went to get an order"—on 10th September, when Lesley was arrested, I took a black leather case from him, which contained a number of billheads of various firms, similar to those produced.
Cross-examined. You said you pleaded guilty to the three occasions.
The RECORDER considered that Smith could not be convicted on this evidence, as it was not proved that he obtained the goods or that he had any knowledge of the false pretences by which they were obtained.
NOT GUILTY .
LESLEY— Twelve Months' Hard labour.
940. ALFRED MAYO* (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing in the dwelling-house of Arthur Joseph Glazier fifteen spoons and other articles, after a conviction of felony at this court in 1882 in the name of Alfred Hall.— Four Months' Hard labour.
942. ALEXANDER RUSTON (18) and WILLIAM NEWMAN (19) to burglary in the dwelling-house of William Bransgrove with intent to steal therein.— Six Months' Hard Labour each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
944. HENRY GEORGE (24) to stealing a purse and 1l. 18s. 1d. from the person of Maria Shaw, after a conviction of felony in 1888 in the name of Henry Smith, alias Cox.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 23rd, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
HENRY PAWSEY . I am manager of the Albion Hotel, Southampton Row—on the evening of 17th September the prisoner Smith came in with a man whom I do not see here—he gave me a florin for some drink which came to 4d., and I gave him 1s. 8d. change—I looked at the coin, but did not know it was bad—he then called for sixpenny worth of brandy in a bottle, and gave me another florin from several others which he had in his hand; it was bad, and I then examined the first, and found that was bad also—I jumped over the counter, went for a constable, and brought one back, but Smith had gone—I gave the coins to the constable, Golding, and described Smith to him—on 3rd October I saw Smith with other persons at Hunter Street Police-station, and identified him.
WALTER THOMAS BAKER . I keep the White Hart, Theobald's Road—on 1st October, shortly after 10 a.m., Smith came in with others, but I cannot say who they were—he had some liquor, price 2d.—he gave me a half-crown, and I gave him 2s. 4d. change, and placed the coin on a shelf by my side, as I was busy, and was doubtful whether it was good or bad—after he left I found it was bad, and put it in my left-hand pocket and gave it to Nicholls on October 3rd; this is it (produced)—on October 3rd, about 11 o'clock, the prisoners all came and were drinking together—I had seen them all there on previous occasions; I cannot say together, but I knew them by sight as having come there—I gave information, and was present when the officers came in and took them and searched them—I said "This is the man who gave me the half-crown."
JOHN CHARLES LORNS . I keep the Bedford Arms, Red Lion Street, Holborn—I know the three prisoners; they have been to my house on several occasions, and generally came in together—the last time they came was on the Saturday or Sunday before 4th October, when one of them, I cannot say which, passed a half-crown, which I found was bad a quarter of an hour afterwards—I put it in the till; it was the only coin there, as I had cleared the till about a quarter of an hour before—I gave it to the police with a bad florin, which I took the same day—the prisoners were drinking together there that day.
Cross-examined by Smith. There were about five of you; two other men were with you.
Cross-examined by Stevens. You live near, and frequently come in with another man, and I gave you a drink because I thought you were honest tradespeople.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective E) On 3rd October I went to the White Hart with Bannell, Pearce, Bague, and other officers—we had received information of coinage offences, and kept watch on the movements of these men—we found the prisoners with Myers in the bar; they were the only people in that compartment—we were in plain clothes—we fastened up the doors, and told them we were police officers and suspected them of being in possession of counterfeit coin, and should search them—no reply was made, and I took hold of Smith in front of the bar, and
found in his right pocket three counterfeit half-crowns done up in this paper, which was wrapped round them separately—Mr. Baker, the landlord, pointed to Smith, and said "That is the man who gave me a bad half-crown on Monday"—Smith made no answer—the other prisoners were searched by other constables, and I saw counterfeit money taken from them—I saw a purse taken from Devenport—Mr. Baker marked the bad half-crown, and gave it to me; this is it—on the way to the station Smith said, I took it down at the time, "You have done for me this time, Nicholls; this means a few years for me."
Cross-examined by Stevens. I saw counterfeit money taken from your waistcoat pocket—I did not put any coins into the pockets of any of the prisoners.
WILLIAM BANNELL (Detective E) I went to the White Hart with the other officers on October 3rd—I searched Stevens and found these two bad half-crowns (produced) in his waistcoat pocket wrapped separately with paper between them, and three florins, three shillings and a half-sovereign in good money in a purse in his trousers pocket—I saw Pearce find two packets in his back coat pocket; I saw them opened—one contained three counterfeit half-crowns wrapped the same as the others and the other on turned liquorice—when we went in we told the prisoners that we were constables and suspected them of counterfeit coins and should search them—we were in plain clothes.
WILLIAM PEARCE (Policeman E 48). On October 3rd I went with Nicholls and Bannell to the White Hart and assisted to search Stevens—in his right hand coat pocket behind I found two packets; one contained liquorice and the other three counterfeit half-crowns with paper between each—I saw Bannell find other coins on him.
Cross-examined by Stevens. I have never said that I found five packages on you—I did not take these coins out of my pocket and put them into yours.
JOHN BAGUE (Policeman E 261) I went with the other constables to the White Hart on October 3rd—I searched Devenport and found in his left trousers pocket this purse containing three counterfeit half-crowns in one compartment and two florins in another, and in his right pocket a good shilling and 2 1/2 d.—on the way to the station he said "All right, you have done me fair"—at the station he gave his name as George Roberts, but afterwards he said "I may as well give you my right name; my name is Devenport, living at 64,—Street Walworth Road"—I did not put the purse or the bad money into the pockets of any of the prisoners or see it done.
Cross-examined by Devenport. Sergeant Golding held a hat, and I took the purse cut of your left hand trousers pocket which contained the counterfeit coins.
By the COURT. He said "My name is Ted Devenport; take care how you tell the old woman about it."
WALTER GOLDING (Detective E). I went with the other officers to the White Hart, and took Myers, and assisted Detective Sergeant William Golding in taking Myers—Sergeant Golding is no relation of mine—I searched Myers, and found in his left trousers pocket a bad half-crown—he said "Some of my pals must have put it there"—he was with the three prisoners when we went in—I received these two florins from Mr. Pawsey.
By the COURT. The conversation with Myers was in the prisoners' presence—they were till searched in the same compartment.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—I have examined these 14 half-crowns, 19 florins, and a shilling—they are all counterfeit, and from various moulds—some of the half-crowns found on Smith, Devenport, and Stevens are from the same mould as the one passed at the Bedford Arms—some of these coins have been wrapped up in the usual manner—they are rubbed over with lamp black to give them tone, and then wrapped in paper, with paper between each, and taken out one by one.
Devenport's Statement before the Magistrate. "We ought to be free if the truth were known."
Smith's Defence. What I have done has been entirely on my, own responsibility with respect to the coin I admit it, but as to the coin said to be found in my possession I no more had it than you had I wish they had been in my possession, and then I would have pleaded guilty.
Stevens and Devenport in their defences stated that the officers had put the hi money in their pockets.
GUILTY . The prisoners were each further charged with a previous conviction Smith of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, and Stevens and Devenport of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, to which
STEVENS and DEVENPORT PLEADED GUILTY, and SMITH PLEADED NOT GUILTY.
RICHARD HUMPHREYS . I am a warder of Pentonville Prison—I produce a certificate (This certified the conviction of Francis Henry at this Court on May 1st, 1871, of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, having other counterfeit coin in his possession.) The prisoner Smith is the person—I was not present when he was convicted, but I saw him in prison—he was discharged from Coldbath Fields Prison on 30th April, 1872.
Cross-examined by Smith. I know you are the man, because I was in the prison during the whole time you were there, and I saw you daily—this (produced) is a photograph of you which was taken when you were discharged, and here is your photograph taken now, and the marks on one correspond with the marks on the other—I know you by Several aliases.
The prisoner Smith called—JOHN FRYER BARNARD. I am a clerk in the solicitors' department at the Treasury—the charge of the Mint cases is specially Confided to me—I was at Bow Street on 8th October, and I believe Sergeant Partridge said that he could not prove the previous conviction himself, and that it was not proved in 1873; Mr. Bridge then said that it should not be entered on the depositions; I then said that Devenport and Stevens would be charged with felony, and you with misdemeanour—it was altered because we thought Humphreys would be able to prove it, it was not absolutely necessary to prove the previous conviction before the Magistrate—the charge was not proved against you in 1873; you were not committed for felony then By the COURT. He was tried at Middlesex Session, I "believe, in 1873.
RICHARD HUMPHREYS (Re-examined). The prisoner Smith's previous convictions were recorded against him, but he could not be indicted for it, the late warder Mclntyre knew it By the prisoner Smith. I can swear you were convicted in 1871; I was
not present, but I saw you in the prison daily under an order of this Court to detain you for 12 months.
By the COURT. The prison records show for what offence he came into my custody; there is a ledger with his whole career from beginning to end, and the warrant also shows it.
By the prisoner. I did not see you at Middlesex Sessions in 1873, but I was at Coldbath Fields before you wentaway to penal servitude; I did not attend Middlesex Sessions before 1877—if you were at Coldbath Fields in 1873 I saw you there, but it was not for uttering counterfeit coin—I was not a warder in 1873, I was a sub-warder—I was in the treadmill yard in 1873.
The Indictment being for felonious possession, and the Jury having found Smith guilty of unlawful possession only, and that he had not been so previously convicted as alleged, the COMMON SERJEANT considered that this was an acquittal on the whole Indictment (See Reg. v Thomas, Law Reports, Crown Cases Reserved, p. 141, 44 Law Journal (M.C.) p. 42.) On the question whether the prisoner could be tried on a second Indictment for the misdemeanour only of unlawful possession, MR. WILKINSON argued that he could, as he had been only acquitted of part of the offence of felonious uttering, namely the previous conviction The COMMON SERJEANT decided, on the strength of a ruling of MR. JUSTICE MELLOR in the same case (cited as an authority in Archibald's Criminal Pleading, 20th Edition, p. 867, from 44 Law Journal (M.C.) 42), that Smith could be put upon his trial again for the misdemeanour alone; but, at the prisoner's request, he postponed the case to next Session, to enable him to instruct Counsel to argue the point Judgment respited.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. FRITH Defended.
WILLIAM PARROTT . I am an omnibus conductor—on 10th May the prisoner got on my omnibus in Piccadilly between 10 and 12 at night—he got down at the Circus, and told me to take three fares out of a half crown—the amount was threepence—he had a man and woman with him—I saw it was bad, called a constable, gave him the coin, and charged the prisoner—I afterwards gave evidence against him at Marlborough Street, and he was discharged.
Cross-examined. I next saw him a fortnight ago at the police-court in the dock—the man I gave evidence against five months ago had a coat like mine and a high hat—the prisoner had not a high hat when I charged him; he had a bob-tailed coat, but I did not take very particular notice of him at the time I charged him—he had no whiskers—the prisoner has whiskers now and a moustache—he was clean shaved when at Marlborough Street, and had dark hair then.
Re-examined. The only way I know the prisoner is by his nose, and his eyes being sunk in—his nose is rather flat; he resembles the man greatly—I gave him in custody immediately to Smith.
WILLIAM SMITH (Policeman C 286) On 10th May, about 12 p.m., Parrott gave the prisoner into my custody with this half-crown—I have no doubt he is the man—he was charged with uttering it, and said "I did not know that it was a bad one"—at the station he gave his name Frank Devene, 26, Elmister Road, Clapham Junction, which I wrote down at the time—I found 6s. 6d. in silver on him; I think it was two half crowns, a shilling, a sixpence, and fivepence.
Cross-examined. I did not see him from 10th May till I saw him at the police-court—I had not seen him before 10th May—I wrote down his description after he was charged, but have not got it here, and do not know whether it is in existence—I have not referred to it to see if the prisoner tallies with it—I know he does not as to his dress—I am positive he is the man; I have been nearly four years in the force.
Re-examined. The difference is that he has short hair now instead of long, and he was shaved clean when he was in custody—he has grown a beard since I saw him last.
JOHN MASON (Policeman B 45) On 26th September, at 1 a.m., I was on duty in King's Road—I was called to Flood Street, and met Mr. Moore and the prisoner and a crowd of people—Mr. Moore gave him in custody for attempting to shoot him with a revolver, which was produced by witness—it was loaded in five chambers; this is it—I found on the prisoner one good shilling and three bad ones—he denied knowing anything about the bad ones—he was very drunk when I took him, but he was sober when he was charged with the counterfeit coin.
Cross-examined. I believe the Grand Jury have thrown out the bill for presenting the loaded pistol, and have found one for common assault—he was bleeding from the mouth when I took him; he said, "I had a revolver in my possession, they punched me in the mouth, and took it away from me"—he said nothing about a cabman giving him the coins.
Cross-examined. Where a large quantity of counterfeit coins is found on persons it is generally wrapped in tissue paper to prevent seratching.
NOT GUILTY . (See page 751.)
MR. GILL and MR. BRUSHFIELD Prosecuted.
ALICE BAILEY . I live at West Street, Wimborne—on September 14th I enclosed a 5l. note, of which I took the number, in a letter to Miss Thurgood, a Crossfield Road, Belsize Park, and sent my servant Fanny Clark to post it—this is the note (Produced).
CHARLES JOSIAH CHACKSFIELD . I am an overseer at Hampstead Sorting Office—the prisoner was employed there as first-class postman—on 15th September he was on duty, between 6.25 and 7.25, in a room below the sorting-office—he would take letters from the sorting-office for his own delivery, and take them from other men and help them sort them—a letter posted at the head office at Wimborne on the evening of 14th September before 8 o'clock would reach our office about 6.25 a.m.—Crossfield Road is not on the prisoner's delivery, but he would be in the office when the letter was there—the prisoner would go on his round at 7.25 a.m., which would take him about an hour, and he would be back at the office about a quarter to ten to commence the collection, and would leave
again about 10 35—he would then finish his duty—he would come on again at 3 p m—he dressed in uniform.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A letter for Crossfield Road would not pass through your hands in the ordinary course, but it might be missorted to your walk—the letters are sorted and tied in bundles at Camden Town by Hampstead men before they are sent to Hampstead—800 or 1,000 letters pass through your hands daily—I believe you have been nearly 19 years at the Hampstead office, and have done your duty as far as I know.
EDWARD CREASEY . I am foreman to John Jacques, bootmaker, of 92, Queen's Crescent, Haverstock Hill—I have known the prisoner some time as a customer, but never knew his name—on 15th September, about 12 30, he came in and asked if I could change him a 5l. note—I said "Forty"—he bought one pair of boots at 7s. 11d., another pair at 8s. 11d., and three pairs of children's boots—the bill came to 1l. 15s. 1d—he then said "I have had a present given me this morning," holding a 5l. note in his hand—I gave it to Mr. Jacques, and saw the prisoner write on the note—he was dressed in his private clothes.
Cross-examined. You did not say "I will endorse the note in my friend's name," nor did you say that he had gone into the country to see his wife, who was ill—you said you got the note from a betting man called Jack—you did not say Jack Giles, or give a description of him.
JAMES WILLIAM WOODARD . I am a clerk in the Post-office, and have had this matter under investigation—on 8th October I saw the prisoner at the Hampstead sorting-office—I had Hanks, a constable, with me, and Mr. Creasy—I said "I belong to the secretary's office of the General Post office, do you know this gentleman?" (Mr. Creasy)—he said "I know him"—I said "Who is he?"—he said "He is at the boot shop in Queen's Crescent"—I said "He has identified you as the man who presented this 5l. Bank of England note in payment for five pairs of boots on 15th September at the shop of Mr. Jacques, Queen's Crescent; where did you get it?"—he said "I had that given to me down against the Swiss Cottage public-house; I suppose I am obliged to say how I got it?"—I said "Certainly"—he said "Well, don't you see it will be detrimental to me in some way; the fact of it is that I used to back horses for a shilling or two, and I placed the first three in the Leger, and had 100 to 1 about it"—I said "Who did you make the bet with?"—he said "A bookmaker who stands outside the Swiss Cottage; he is very often there; we call him Jack"—I said "You endorsed the name in Mr. Jacques's shop; what name did you sign?"—he said "I signed Winkwell"—I said "Why did you do this?"—he said "It is rather suspicious on that point alone, I will admit"—I said "The note was enclosed in a letter, which was posted at Wimborne on 14th September, addressed to Miss Thurgood at Crossfield Road, Belsize Park, and failed to reach its destination"—he said "Is this a stolen note then? I don't know, I am sure, how he could have come by it; besides, I am not in the Crossfield Road"—I said "But you were on
duty when the letter passed through the office"—he made no reply—I said "when did you get the note from the bookmaker?"—he said "It was the Saturday following the Leger, the day that I cashed it"—he was then taken in custody.
Cross-examined. You did not give a description of Winkwell, or say that he had a dark moustache—you gave a description of the bookmaker, but did not say that his name was Winkwell.
Luke Hanks (Constable General Post Office) The prisoner was given into my custody—I was present at the conversation—he did not say that Winkwell was the bookmaker—he made no answer when the charge was read over.
Cross-examined. I took the book (produced) from you just as it is now—I have not looked to see if the bet is recorded in it—I have not lost some of the leaves.
William Larkins Cross field Road is in my walk—I delivered all the letters given to me on September 15th.
Ormsby Hill I am in the accountant's office, Bank of England—I produce a 5l. note 06896 dated 15th January, 1888—which was paid in by the London and South Western Bank on September 18th.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that, although it was a remarkable coincidence that he should get the note, it came into his possession from the bookmaker He stated that the letter was upstairs tied up in a bundle for a certain walk, and he was at work downstairs, and that it would have to pass through 10 or 12 different hands before it got to Hampstead, and there were plenty of chances of it being stolen before it got there.
GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by the Jury, in consequence of his longservice— Ten months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 24th, 1888
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
948. JAMES JOHNSON**(29) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing seven and a half yards of cloth and other articles, the goods of Frank Isaac Lyons, after a conviction at Guildhall on 2nd June,1887— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour And
Messrs Gill and Richards Prosecuted; Mr. Purcell Defended.
Frederick Smith I am superintendent of the postal branch at Somerset House—I produce a requisition for postal-orders from the receiver of the Fortune Green Office, Kilburn—the numbers enumerated were sent by registered letter to the Kilburn office, and among them numbers 73601 to 73610 inclusive, these are two of them (73606 and 73607); Mr. Squibb's receipt is on it; he is the receiver at Kilburn.
Cross-examined. The total amount of orders in the requisition is between 100 and 200, and not only for those named—about 200 orders were stolen from the office at Fortune Green.
Francis Squibb I am post-office receiver at Fortune Green, Kilburn
—I received the postal-orders mentioned in the requisition and signed for them at the foot—I checked each packet, and they were perfectly correct—on Sunday, September 2nd, my house was broken into between a quarter to 10 and half-past, and cash, postal-orders, and stamps, value 120l., were stolen, and among them the orders in question, about 200.
WILLIAM DAVIS . I am post-office receiver at Rochester Row, West minster—on 20th September, at 4 30 p m., two postal-orders were cashed with me, they bore the Lothbury stamp, and were signed "Druce," the man who cashed them went out and joined a man who I believe to be the prisoner, but I only saw his back—I examined the stamp closely, and my suspicions were aroused—at 7 o'clock the same evening the prisoner came in and tendered two postal-orders for 3s. and 4s. 6d., bear ing the same stamp and signed "Druce"—the name of Charles Day was filled in in the receipt—I said "It is unusual to pay postal-orders which are filled in; are they yours?" he said "No, they belong to a friend of mine"—I said "Did I see you in Rochester Row this afternoon at 4.30?" he said "No, I was in Covent Garden"—I said "I shall detain you on suspicion that the date stamp is not right "or" has been tampered with"—I sent my lad for a constable, and while he was gone the prisoner said "I found them in the Strand"—I said "It is odd you should come all the way from the Strand to change postal-orders"—he said "I was debating which way I should go"—I gave him in custody.
Cross-examined. Mine is a stationer's shop—no one else was there—I just went inside the parlour to look at the stamp, leaving the prisoner in the shop, as I had more light there—there was another person in the parlour; he may have looked at the order; he is not here—it did not take me a second, as I found it corresponded with the two previous orders—it is unusual to pay a postal-order that is filled in, but if I knew him I might change it—he did not say that he was at some sale rooms at the time—others of the stolen orders have been cashed, but not at my office.
FLORENCE KING . I am counter clerk at the Lothbury Branch Post-office—this Lothbury stamp in the corner of these two orders is not genuine—I was the sole clerk to issue postal orders between 8 and 4 on September 9th—I sign and stamp all orders as I issue them—the signature "Druce "is not mine or that of any one in the office—it is usual to sign the initial and the surname—these three stamps (produced) are genuine stamps from our office—my attention was called to this in October, when it was fresh in my mind—these four orders were never stamped at the Lothbury office.
GEORGE MORLEY (Policeman A 83) On 20th September, at 8 p m., I was called to Rochester Row, and the prisoner was charged with uttering two postal-orders—I said "How did you get them?"—he said "I found them in the Strand"—I searched him at the station, and found six pawntickets relating to wearing apparel, but no money.
PHILIP BICK (Policeman, not examined in chief) Cross-examined. The prisoner gave me a correct address—I went, but found nothing relating to the charge—I found his wife in great distress, and gave her 6d. or 1s.—I have heard he was a gas labourer, and since that a porter at sale rooms round Covent Garden.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. FRIFH Defended WILLIAM MOORE. I am a horse keeper, of 5, Reed's Place, Chelsea—I have known the prisoner six or seven years—on 25th September, at 11 p.m. I was in the City of Gloucester public house with two other men, and the prisoner came in and wanted to toss one of my friends named Smith, who would not do so—the prisoner asked him why he would not and why I would not, and pointed a revolver at me and asked me to smell it, and said, "I have a bone to pick with you over my missus"—he went out and returned into the same bar, and asked me how I was getting on—I said I did not want to have anything to say him, and he left—I was told something, and went with Arthur Ward to the prisoner's house half an hour after, and asked him what he meant by pulling out a revolver to me—he said he did not know what he was doing—I asked him to have a drink, and we all went to the Cooper's Arms and drank—we came out, and he asked me to shake hands and walk across the road—I did so about twenty-five yards, when he pulled the revolver from his pocket and said, "I will put your b——y life out"—he pointed the revolver at my head and kicked me on my knee—I caught hold of his hand, closed with him, and threw him to the ground—the potman came to my assistance—the pistol was taken from him, it was loaded in five chambers.
Cross-examined. We had always been good friends—he was very drunk, I don't think he knew what he was about—I have a mark on my knee, I showed it to Mason—the prisoner was very much, knocked about—he was bleeding—I struck him when he struck me—we fell and struggled for the pistol—when he got up he hit me and I hit him back—I have not been charged several times with assault, except on my wife, and that was dismissed—I was not committed for trial for highway robbery with violence; nor to the Middlesex Sessions—my wife withdrew the charge, and I was bound over to keep the peace for six months, but I was not in prison—I have been bound over twice for assault on my wife—no one else was present when the prisoner pointed the revolver—I have never been fined for assault either 40s. or 20s., nor did the prisoner lend me money to pay the fine—I never had money of him in my life, but he has borrowed money of me, and never paid me—I am not a fighting man—I have advertised in tine Sporting Life, challenging persons to fight me for 20l. or 25l. a side—I have fought about four times with other persons besides my wife—Mr. Coppin, a cab proprietor, paid me for horse keeping—I left him seven months ago—since that I have been odd man to Mr. Griffiths—when the prisoner said he was going to pick a bone with me I did not knock him down.
ARTHUR WARD . I am potman at the City of Gloucester—I went with Moore to the prisoner's house, and from there to the Coopers' Arms, where we had a drink—Moore and the prisoner then shook hands and left me; I afterwards heard Moore shout out "Police, murder, Arthur"—I ran back and saw Moore and the prisoner struggling on the ground; I saw Moore take a revolver out of the prisoner's left hand, he gave it to me and I took it to the station.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was drunk, but was not stumbling about—I did not notice that both the prisoner's eyes were blackened, or
that his clothes were torn—I think he knew what he was doing, he walked all right and said "Good night"
JOHN MASON . On September 26th, at 12 45, I was on duty in King's Road, Chelsea—I was called to Flood Street, and met the prisoner with Moore, who said "I give this man in custody for trying to shoot me with a revolver"—I said "Where is the revolver?"—he said "Never you mind, you take him on to the station"—I said "No; you must tell me more about it; I cannot take a man like that; I must know what occurred"—the prisoner said "There ain't no revolver, policeman"—he was drunk, but I should say he knew what he was talking about; he was able to walk—Ward came up and showed me the revolver, and the prisoner was taken to the station—the revolver was loaded in five chambers—Moore charged him with attempting to shoot him, he made no answer.
Cross-examined. He was very drunk, he was bleeding from his mouth, and one of his eyes was discoloured next day at the police court—his trousers were torn just below the knee—going to the station he said "I had a revolver in my pocket, and they punched me on my mouth and took it away from me"
CHARLES ROSS (Police Inspector B) On September 26th I was in charge of the Chelsea Station when the prisoner was brought in—I was handed the revolver and found it loaded with these five ball cartridges (produced)—the prisoner was drunk; he made no reply to the charge—he was able to walk, he smelt very strong of drink.
Cross-examined. He had not lost much blood, but he had slight blood marks on his mouth—one of his eyes was discoloured next morning slightly; and his trousers were torn—he knew perfectly well what he was doing.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate " I was very drunk indeed and do not remember presenting the pistol at anyone; I have known Moore seven or eight years, and always been good friends with him"
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for Barlow, and MR. GREENFIELD for Hunt.
JOHN WISE (City Detective) Mr. Sagar, the chief of the department, made a communication to me, and I watched No 8, Coleman Street on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, Sept 25, 26, and 27, when I saw the prisoners leave about 8 15, and the prisoner Barlow's husband left at 8 20—the prisoner Barlow then came out and went into a public-house, and in two or three minutes Hunt came up to the door and spoke to Barlow's little girl, and then joined Mrs. Barlow in the public-house—after about 20 minutes they both came out and went into 8, Coleman Street—in the passage Barlow said to Hunt "You wait here," and went upstairs and returned in about five minutes—she appeared bulky, having something under her shawl—she had not looked bulky previously—she went into the ground-floor office where I had seen Hunt previously enter—about 9 15 the prisoners came to the door and Hunt went away—I followed her to the corner of Coleman Street, and she spoke to Barlow's husband—I
followed her into Moorfields, where I stopped her, told her I was a police officer, and said "Have you got anything about you"—she said "No"—I put my hand under her shawl and took this parcel containing six dressing combs from under her arm—I said "Have you got any more?" she handed me this bag containing six dozen children's forehead combs—before I opened the parcel I asked her what was in it—she said she did not know, a hawker at the corner of Coleman Street had given it to her to sell.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Mrs. Barlow is the housekeeper at No 8, and has also been employed seven years at the Wool Exchange—I was reading a newspaper under the door of the house where she was, when she came out looking bulky—the comb warehouse is on the first floor—she went into the ground floor office—I am certain she had not the bulky appearance when she went in—she carried home some bundles of wood which she took into the warehouse at the ground floor office—that was before she went to the public-house, and before Mrs. Hunt came up.
Cross-examined by MR. GREENFIELD. When Hunt came out she was carrying this basket in front of her, with a piece of brown paper on it, and her shawl was over it—Mr. Sangster's name is on every single comb, but not on the parcel—she did not say "Combs" when I asked what she was carrying.
THOMAS BENHAM (City Detective) After Hunt had been taken to the station I went with Logan and Wise to 8, Coleman Street, and saw Barlow—I said "We are police-officers, a woman named Hunt is in custody charged with having some combs, and you will be charged with stealing them;" she said "I am innocent, I know nothing at all about it"—we searched, and loose in a drawer found a dozen fine-tooth combs—Barlow said "We have permission to take a comb or two if we want them, and one or two were picked up in the rubbish in the office"—she was charged at the station, and said "I have given no combs to any woman"
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not take a note of her words; I understood her to say "to any woman"—I heard my deposition read with the words "to any one," and did not correct it.
Cross-examined by MR. GREENFIELD. I saw Hunt leave carrying a bag quite openly, and this was by her side under her shawl.
FREDERICK RICHARD NECK . I am clerk to Mr. Sangster, London agent of the New York India-rubber Company, Coleman Street—he occupies the whole of the first floor—Barlow was housekeeper, her rooms were at the top of the house, and she had a key of the warehouse—she was housekeeper to others besides—on 27th September I left the ware house about 6 8, having previously taken stock; I was the last to leave—I was called to Moor Lane Police-station at 10 o'olock next morning, and saw six dozen dressing-combs and six dozen forehead-combs, and the prisoner Hunt in oustody—I went to 8, Coleman Street, examined the stock, and missed six dozen dressing-combs; I had no account of the forehead-combs, but I identify them as well as the others; they are worth 2l. 5s.—I know nothing of Barlow having leave to take combs if she chose.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The fine-tooth combs are worth 2s. in the state in which they are—Barlow has been employed there by the landlord of the house 18 months—I have been there longer—I did not
know her before she came there—I had nothing to do with her payment or discharge.
Cross-examined by MR. GREENFIELD. I know by the packing that this parcel is ours, without undoing it—our name is not on it, but it is on the wrapper of the combs—I know them by the numbers.
Re-examined. They are marked "New York and Hamburg India-rubber Company"—I missed this exact number of combs.
RICHARD GOODWIN . I am housekeeper at 8, Coleman Street—Barlow used to be the housekeeper—I was clearing out a cupboard on the first floor, and found these two packages secreted there under some ashes—I don't know who had the use of the cupboard—I gave them to my master.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I succeeded Barlow on Tuesday week, and found the parcels the day before yesterday.
FREDERICK RICHARD NECK (Re-examined) These parcels were brought upstairs by Mr. Whitneck with the letters for Oscar Money and Co—they have not been opened, but I know this one contains five dozen combs and the other six dozen dressing combs—they have just arrived from Hamburg.
The prisoners received good characters
GUILTY . — Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 25th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Cave
MESSRS POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted; MESSRS GEOGHEGAN
and LAWLESS Defended THOMAS GEORGE JONES. I am now living at Stevondale Street, Canning Town—for many years I was in the prisoner's employment as a milk carrier—lately he has kept a small general shop at 248, Manchester Road, Isle of Dogs, Poplar, where milk was sold—he was living there with his wife—on Friday, the day before Saturday, the 18th August, he and his wife were rowing—the prisoner was drunk the best part of that week—he was always quarrelling when drunk—I do not remember any particular expression that he used to her that week, only swore at her and hit her—on Saturday, 18th August, I went out on my round about a quarter to 7—the prisoner went out before me, about half-past 6—I returned about half-past 8—the prisoner was sober at a quarter to 7—I saw him about a quarter to 9; he was then about half drunk—he went out about that time—I saw Mrs. Bartlett at the time; she had been crying, and seemed distressed—I went out again, and came back a few minutes past 12—the prisoner was then in the yard—he told me he had had a fall a few weeks before, and it was bleeding afresh, and he asked me to put a piece of paper on it for him; he was then drunk—he went back to the house, and about 10 minutes to I he asked his wife for eighteen pence—she said " No"; he had some in the morning, and she would not give him any—I did not hear him say anything, he went out—I was away from the house between 1 and 2, back again at 2, and I next saw the prisoner about half-past 2—he was then sitting in the arm-chair in the parlour, drunk—I went away and returned about half-past 5, the prisoner was in the same place, drunk—
between 8 and 9 that night I had been down to the coal-cellar to break up some coal and coke for the Sunday morning—a hammer was kept there for that purpose, this (produced) is the hammer—while I was there breaking up the coke, the prisoner came to the top of the stairs and asked what I was doing—I told him I was breaking the coal and coke up—he said "What hammer have you got?"—I said "The hammer I always use"—he was a little more sober then—after that I went up to the kitchen, leaving the hammer in the cellar; about 9 or a few minutes after I heard them quarrelling in the shop—I could not exactly hear what they said; I heard words between them, I heard the prisoner throwing the shutters about inside and outside the shop—he took them outside first and then took them up and threw them back into the passage; I did not see him, I heard him, he did not shut up the shop—I shut it up about 11, I found the best part of the shutters lying inside on the floor; he came down into the kitchen with a jug with ginger-beer and milk in it—he drank some and wanted me and the little boy to have some; the last I saw of him was about 11, after I had shut up the shop and was going up to bed—I did him good night, he was then sitting in the armchair in the parlour—his wife was there, he was then about half drunk—he was drinking the ginger-beer and milk at the time—I shared my bedroom with a man named French and the boy Still—Still was in bed, French had not come in—the prisoner and his wife slept in the next room, the front, and ours was the back—I could hear them speak, but not what was said; the prisoner came up to bed a few minutes before his wife, she came up about a-quarter past 11—I could hear them talking, but could not hear what they said—it was more friendly than rowing, it seemed friendly and quiet; I went off to sleep—between 4 and 5 in the morning I was awoke by the prisoner coming into my room—he asked French if he had got any drink—French said no, he had forgot to bring any; the prisoner shook hands with French and said "Good-bye, you won't see me no more alive"—he then went back to his own room, he seemed sober then—in about twenty minutes he came into our room again, and again bid French good-bye; he then came to me and said "Good-bye, Tom, I have done for my missis, and I am going to do for myself"—he shook hands with me and went out of the room—I had not heard any sounds in his room; I did not see any injury about him when he came in the second time, he, seemed much the same then as to drink, but paler—he came back a third time, in about ten minutes, and called out to French "Ben"—he then had a razor in his hand and his throat was gashed—he then turned and went back to his own room; at that time I awoke Still—he got up and went into the prisoner's room—I put on some clothes and went in after him—he was sitting on the side of the bed and his missis was lying in bed—Still went and shook her and called her—she did not answer—she was breathing, but was not sensible—she was in her nightdress—I noticed that the left side of her head was knocked in, and there was blood on her head on the pillow, up the wall, and on the ceiling—she never moved or spoke; I then went upstairs and called the lodgers, and then went for Dr Smythe—the prisoner made a gurgling noise in his throat in the room, but did not speak to understand him—I know this knife (produced)—it was generally kept in a little box in a shed in the yard, and was used for cutting leather for boots—this razor is the
prisoner's, it used to be kept in a case upstairs in their bedroom—it was a razor like this that the prisoner had in his hand when he came into our room—he had two razors; this is the case in which the razor was kept, and this hone was sometimes kept upstairs and sometimes downstairs; he used to use it to sharpen his razor on for cutting his corns; I saw it on the Saturday afternoon, about 2 o'clock, downstairs on the sideboard.
Cross-examined. I have been with the prisoner off and on for five years—my duty was to take out milk; that would take me about two hours and a half—during the last three months the prisoner was more drunk than sober—he was sometimes called Mad Dick the Jockey, and the boys would call that after him—I have known him go by that name ever since I worked for him—when he left our room he left the door open—it was about half an hour after he first came in till I saw him with his throat cut—his coming in woke me; I am a light sleeper—when he said I should never see him again I took no notice; I have often heard him say so; I often heard him threaten to commit suicide—he was a very strange man; he was all right when sober, and strange when drunk; he was sober when he said I should never see him again; I never heard him threaten to commit suicide when sober—they lived together happily when sober—the wife was a very hard-working industrious woman, and looked after the shop as best she could—the last words I heard between them were quiet and friendly words.
BENJAMIN FRENCH . I am a dock labourer—on the night of 18th August I was sleeping at 248, Manchester Road—I had been a lodger there for a great many years—I knew the prisoner and his wife very well—for some time he had not been very sober; that has been going on for some years—about 5 in the morning of 19th August he came into our room and woke me up and said "I have done it"—he shook hands with me and said "Good-bye," and went out of the room again—he seemed very quiet—there was nothing particular the matter with him that I saw—in my idea there was not the least sign of his being drunk—in a few minutes he came back; he had a key in his hand; he gave it to me and said "Give that to Jim; "I did not know who he meant at the time—he asked me if I had a drop of drink in the place—I said I had not—he did not come into the room again, he only opened the door and put his head inside and showed me what he had done; he had cut his throat—he did not speak, but walked away into his own room—I went upstairs to fetch the lodgers, and went with them into the prisoner's bedroom—I saw Mrs. Bartlett in bed, and the prisoner lying by her side on the bed bleeding very fast—Mrs. Bartlett's head looked very bad—Dr Smythe arrived shortly after.
Cross-examined. I had lived with them about 14 years, and knew them both very well; I never saw any row with them; I never saw him strike her—the key he had was the key of the sitting-room on the same floor as the shop—I gave it to Mrs. Bartlett's sister when she came.
By the JURY. I went to bed at 10 o'clock on Saturday night—I heard no sound of strife or any words in their room.
WALTER STILL . I was in the prisoner's service as a milk carrier—I slept in the house—on Saturday, 18th August, I went to bed about 9 30 or 9 40—I went to sleep—I heard no sounds in the course of the night—I was awoke by the prisoner growling in his throat in the next room—I got up at once and ran into the next room—I found Mr. and Mrs.
Bartlett there—he was sitting on the bedside with his hands in his throat trying to tear his throat open with both hands—I did not notice anything in his hands—I ran round to Mrs. Bartlett; she was lying in bed—I shook her, and saw blood coming from her throat—I can't say whether she was alive—I halloaed out and ran into the next room and dressed—I then ran down to Mrs. Mears, Mrs. Bartlett's sister, and brought her to the housed—the doctor got there just as I did.
EMMA MEARS . I live at 290, Manchester Road, Poplar—my sister, Mrs. Bartlett, lived at 248—I was in the habit of visiting her from time to time—I knew the prisoner—for a month before 18th August he was mostly drunk; when drunk they lived on very uncomfortable terms—he was very quiet when sober—he has often thrown things at her, heavy sticks and bottles, anything that came to his hand; of course she had to protect herself, and she threw things at him too; I don't want to screen my sister more than him, she had to do it; that would be when he was drunk—he has very often said he would out her head off and throw it in the street—on Saturday morning, 18th August, I was at the house at 9 10 or 9 15—the prisoner was then half drunk—my sister was sitting crying in a chair—I said "What is the matter?"—she said "Can't you see the old villain? I have not been in bed again until 2 o'clock this morning"—the prisoner was present—they were quarrelling about a quartern of gin—the prisoner wanted 2 1/2 d. more for drink—she said "You won't have it out of me this day if I know it"—he said "You——cow, I will mark you for this to-night"—he flew to go to the cakes to take them out to sell, she went to stop him taking them, and he up with his foot and kicked her in a dangerous part—she ran round the parlour into the shop—he got the iron bar in his hand that was used for the blind, and raised it two or three times, and got very excited; she raised the flap of the counter, and got a knife—nothing was said, but in the meantime the boy Still came to the gate—the prisoner flow to the gate to make a hit at Still—I said "For God's sake, Walter, take care that he does not hit you," and his wife said "If he hits you with that bar go for a policeman"—he did not hit him; he threw the bar down, this was just about 11 o'clock; after that ho took the bell of the gate, snapped the piece of iron off, and threw the bell at her—it missed her—she ran after him, and he took the gate off the hinges and threw it at her, and said "You——cow, pick that up," and ran out into the street—he went out twice to get drink in the meantime—11 45 that morning was the last time I saw him till I was called up by Still about 5 30 on the Sunday morning—I then went to the house, and saw my sister lying on the bed—she was breathing, but she died shortly after—when the prisoner said he would cut her head off he was drunk, but he has said it when sober, and laughed at it; he has a brother named Jim; I don't know anything of him.
Cross-examined. I have seen him about twice; I never spoke to him, only the day he came to look at my sister at the mortuary—I have been in the habit of visiting her for 11 years; during that time the prisoner has many times threatened to out her head off, for the last five years——he had been drinking heavily all the week before this Saturday—my sister was about 56 years of age.
MARTHA JOHNSTON . I live at 260, Manchester Road—I have known the prisoner and his wife many years—he came to my shop about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 18th August—he said "Halloa," and I said "Halloa"
to him—he said "I will treat you to-night, and it will be the last you will get"—I said "All right"—he was very tipsy—when sober he was very quiet, when drunk he was rather romancing, he talked very curiously.
Cross-examined. I have known him twenty years, when he kept an eating-house—he was very often drunk—I have heard them quarrel, but I never saw any blows.
EMILY CROWHURST . I am the wife of George Crowhurst, a grocer, of 317, Manchester Road—I knew the prisoner and his wife for some few months—on the evening of 18th August, about 9 45, I was in my shop—I can see the prisoner's shop from mine—at that time I saw him come out of his shop, bringing a shutter; he put it up at the window, but did not succeed, and he took it down again and threw it in the shop, and turned the gas out—his wife lighted the gas again; she had a small stick in her hand and I saw her strike him once, I do not know where—they then went into the little room at the back of the shop—he was not sober.
Cross-examined. I did not see him strike her back.
WILLIAM DOE (Police Sergeant K R 30) About 5 15 in the morn ing of 19th August I was fetched by French to the prisoner's house—I was on plain-clothes duty—I went up to the front room first floor—the prisoner was sitting on the side of the bed in his shirt, bleeding from the throat; the front of his shirt was covered with blood—he had a razor in his right hand; I saw blood on the razor—I had known him before as Freeman—I said "Halloa, Freeman, what is the matter?"—he muttered something which I could not understand—he struggled very much, trying to get his hands to his throat—with assistance I tried to prevent his doing so—I got the razor from him—three constables came to my assistance in holding him—he struggled very violently on the bed—I found this hammer under the bed, right between his legs; the handle had smears of blood on it—this knife lay by the side of the hammer on the floor, it was covered with blood—Mrs. Bartlett was lying on the other side of the bed, apparently dead—from the condition of the bed more than one person had slept in it—there was no disturbance of the furniture in the room—I saw that Mrs. Bartlett was bleeding very much from the head and throat—Dr Smythe came; he stitched up the prisoner's throat, and by his direction I took him to the hospital—I have known him four and a half years; he was always addicted to drink—he went by the name of Richard Freeman, or Mad Dick, as they used to call him—he was a very quiet man when sober; I used to meet with him once or twice a week.
Cross-examined. I do not know that he has been in the army, or in the Crimea.
MICHAEL CRAWFORD (Police Inspector K) On 19th August, a few minutes after 5 a m., I was called to the house—I went into the front bedroom on the first floor—I there saw the prisoner and deceased; she was not dead, she was breathing, but unconscious—I saw the condition of her head and neck; her brains were protruding on the pillow, and there was blood up the wall and on the ceiling—she was undressed except her chemise, her dress was on the railing at the foot of the bed, undisturbed, and there was no sign of any struggle—she was lying on her right side, breathing—the prisoner was being held by the constable and the doctor, who arrived at the same time as I did—he stitched up the wound—we tied him on a shutter, took him downstairs, and had him conveyed
to the hospital; he was very violent—I took possession of the hammer the razor, and the knife—the hone was on the top of the cupboard; there were strokes on it as if something had recently been sharpened on it—the case of the razor was on the dressing-table—the blade of the razor was covered with blood—it was handed to me by Doe—it was taken out of his hand—the razor case was on the dressing-table—I noticed the stains on the hammer and knife—the prisoner was taken to the Poplar Hospital—I put him under the charge of a constable—he remained there until 27th September, when I went to the hospital, and took him into custody—I told him he would be charged with killing his wife—I also said that the Coroner's jury had returned a verdict of wilful murder against him—I also told him he would be charged with attempting to take his own life—he said "All right; how are they all in the Island?"—I said "Very well"—he said "Well, the firm is not cracked up yet"—the hammer weighs 81/2lb.
Cross-examined. He was committed for trial on 5th October—he gave his age as 66, but it is either 57 or 58—I have known him 13 or 14 months, since I have been stationed in that neighbourhood—he was unconscious and struggling, with four constables trying to keep him down—he could not speak; blood was flowing from his mouth.
CHARLES SMYTHE I am a registered medical practitioner, of 53, Kew Bridge Road, Brentford—in August last I was practising at Poplar—early on Sunday morning, 19th August, about a quarter to 5, I went to the prisoner's house—I went upstairs into the bedroom, and saw the deceased lying in bed in her chemise—she had been stabbed in the neck, and the head was fractured—she was insensible and was dying; she died in about an hour afterwards—I made a post-mortem examination—the skull was fractured over the left temple, about 4 inches in diameter—the bones were quite broken in, and the brain substance knocked out—that blow alone was quite sufficient to cause death—it was such a wound as a hammer of this kind would inflict—there were three stabs in the neck such as might have been made with this knife—one was two inches deep, another an inch and a half, and the other between an inch and an inch and a half—there was effusion of blood into the left, eyelid, and the left ear was split—in my judgment the blow was given first—that would produce immediate insensibility—I should say the slit in the ear was produced by the knife—I saw the prisoner there at the time, held down by four constables—he had been bleeding very freely; that would cause insensibility—I could not say whether he was sober or not—I stitched up the wound, and had him conveyed to Poplar Hospital.
Cross-examined. He might be faint from loss of blood—he was struggling violently.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Her Majesty's Gaol Holloway—the prisoner has been under my care there from 27th September until to-day—I have seen him very frequently, almost daily—in my opinion he is sane—he has suffered from gout.
Cross-examined. I have had a good many patients under my care since 27th September—I visit the cases in hospital every day; he has been in the hospital all the time he has been in prison—my attention was directed to him when he came in, as to his sanity—I always examine men who commit murder, to find out whether they are sane or not—I have had him alone in my room over an hour at a time, talking to him
—he knew I was the surgeon of the gaol—there are warders in the hospital; he was six weeks in Poplar Hospital before I saw him.
Witnesses for the Defence.
SARAH ANN FITCH . I live at 40, Horseferry Road, Westminster—I am married; the prisoner is my brother, he is 65 or 66 years old—I have a sister named Emma Perkins; I had another sister named Ellen, she is dead—about four years ago Emma Perkins was brought before a Magistrate charged with trying to drown herself in the canal in the Kent Road, and she would have been drowned had it not been for assistance coming and fetching her out; I became surety for her and the Magistrate discharged her—my sister Ellen twice attempted to poison herself—the prisoner is my full brother, we had the same father and mother—he has been a soldier in the Crimea, in the name of Freeman—about 16 years ago he was in the London Hospital for seven weeks; a hook got under his knee in pulling him up, he would have been killed if he had not been caught by the hook; it was in the Docks, in unloading—ever since that I have noticed an alteration in his manner, he has not appeared the same man at all.
Cross-examined. That happened in October, 1872—the actual injury was a lacerated knee; he was discharged cured, but he was doctored for a long time afterwards; he had a straight waistcoat on when I went to see him in the London Hospital—he has drank very freely for years—up to the time of this occurrence he lived with his wife and carried on business—he came to see me in his shirt-sleeves, like mad—there are nine of us in family, six girls and three boys—in July, 1884, one of my sisters tried to drown herself—she was 34 years old—she had had a few words with her husband; I was not there, I was sent for—she afterwards went back to her husband and is living now, but she is not always right—my other sister has been dead 14 years, she was about 25 when she died; she tried to take poison twice; the first time was about 19 years ago, I don't know the cause of it, it was trouble—we never knew what she died of.
CHARLES SEREL . I live at 71, Manchester Road—I am churchwarden of Christ Church, Poplar—I have known the prisoner about 15 years—he went by the name of Dick Freeman, that was all I knew him by; he was always very strange in his character all the time I knew him—he has been a teetotaler for a long time, and he was more strange then than when he was drunk—it was connected with his work in Millwall Docks I saw his strangeness, but I could not illustrate it exactly just now, he was a ganger; I can only say he was very strange and eccentric, that was always the impression on my mind.
Cross-examined. It was a few years before the murder that he abstained from drink; I should think six or seven years ago—I never knew that he was a heavy drinker—I don't believe that he has been a heavy drinker, not even recently—I have seen him nearly every day up to the time of this occurrence; he was not a free drinker during that time; I don't believe it was the quantity of drink that affected him, I don't know how much he did drink—I have not seen him the worse for drink during the last three months—half a pint sometimes will make a person drunk; I know his habit was to have a glass or two now and then.
Edinburgh University—I have known the prisoner between 4 and 5 years—I have attended him—my opinion is that he is not quite sane, even when sober I could not honestly say he was quite sane, when drunk he is a dangerous lunatic—that is my experience of him—several times when driving I have seen him come up with an unmeaning grin on his face, put his arms round the horse's mouth and kiss it, and sometimes he would take the foam from the horse's mouth and put it into his own—he was quite sober then, but strange in his actions—for instance, he came up to me on one occasion and struck me a very hard blow—I looked straight at him to see if he was angry, and he appeared perfectly friendly, and there were no symptoms of liquor, he could stand, walk, and speak accurately—I attended him once for a dislocated arm—I found him sitting in a chair, I bandaged his arm up, and visited him again one or two days afterwards, he had then taken off all the bandages and wrappings, and either by accident or design taken the head of the bone out of the socket, which hung loosely by his side, and he was looking at it rather complacently; that occurred on two occasions with reference to the same injury.
Cross-examined. I last saw him five or six weeks before this affair—I did not attend him professionally then, he was in the street talking to my coachman—my last attendance on him was for the dislocation about a year ago—to the best of my recollection it was from a fall; I am not prepared to say it was when drunk, he called on me some time after the dislocation, what was the time of it I could not say—I attended him for it from time to time—I know that he does drink Very freely—the last visit was about 9 months before that—that was for nothing more or less that I could discover but mad sulks, he was sitting almost motionless; and his wife said she did not know what had come to him, he had got so quiet—in my opinion that condition was produced by excessive drinking—when sober, I believe, he followed his ordinary calling as a milk dealer—if I had been asked to sign a certificate of lunacy, I should have examined him much more carefully before I did so—the instances I have mentioned would justify it—he was sober at those times—I could not exactly say that he was in such a state that I would have signed a certificate of lunacy—I have not been asked to see him in gaol—whether he is perfectly sane now I cannot say—I have spoken to him frequently in my own consulting room—I do not remember that I cautioned his wife that he was a dangerous man; when drunk he is quite irresponsible for his actions, he was more furious than I ever saw a man when drunk
Re-examined. I never examined him specially for lunacy, from my cursory examination I considered him a lunatic—I have examined the back of his head, there are a great number of scars on his head and face from injuries received—he was perfectly mad in the ordinary acceptation of the term when under the influence of drink—he was the most furiously mad man I ever saw, from that he received his nickname of Mad Dick.
GUILTY . — DEATH .
MR. BODKIN, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the inquisition, there being no committal by the Magistrate, and no bill presented.
MESSRS POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted ROBERT YOUNG . I was 12 years old last birthday—the prisoner is my stepfather—up to 29th September I was living with him and my mother at 11, Regent's Gardens, Westminster—three or four months back he came from the Westminster Hospital, where he had been for some little time; he afterwards went to the Convalescent Home; he returned from there some weeks ago—after that he was very strange, he seemed to have something the matter with him; there was a great difference in him—he used to say to my mother that she let men into the house; she denied it, but he went on repeating it—he used to strike matches by day and night to look for the men; that was about 8th September—before he came from the hospital they lived happily, but after wards unhappily, by always making these accusations, that led to disagreements between them—on Saturday, 29th September, my brother fetched me about four in the afternoon—mother was there—the prisoner was going to hit me with a stick—he stopped in till he had tea, then he went upstairs to see if there were any men in the house; he came down in about ten minutes, and then seemed quite quiet; he then went out—he returned between 8 and 9, and told me to go to bed—mother was out then—he asked where she was; I said I did not know—I then went to bed, leaving him downstairs—I afterwards heard my door open and heard him moving about the house—I don't think mother had come home—the next thing I heard was a knocking at the front door I came down and saw Mrs. Redding—on my way down I looked into the sitting-room and saw mother lying on the floor; I called to her and she did not answer—I lot Mrs. Redding in and went back to the room; mother was still lying on the floor, and I saw a lot of blood round her head; she was dead—the prisoner came in and looked and then went and fetched a policeman.
CHARLES REDDING . I live next door to the prisoner—I have known him living there twelve months—about 10 minutes to 11 on Saturday night, 29th September, I heard someone walk downstairs in the next house—immediately after I heard a scuffle in the front room and heard a woman call out "Oh, don't!"—I went with my wife to the front door, and heard a thud, as from somebody falling on the floor; then all was quiet; as we got to the door I saw the prisoner leave the house by the front door; he slammed it after him and walked hurriedly away—after that I and my wife went and knocked at the front door; it was opened by the last witness; in consequence of what he said I went for a constable, returned and went into the front room ground floor, where I saw the dead body of the woman; I at once recognised her, and saw that her throat had been cut.
THOMAS BROWN (Policeman A 88) About 11 on 22th September I was on duty at Rochester Row Police-station—the prisoner came there with Constable Powell; he said, "I have stabbed my wife at No 11, Regent's Gardens"—he then sat down in the charge-room—he appeared agitated and excited—Inspector Fairy directed mo to look after him—the prisoner said "I shan't run away; I am only too glad to get here—he sat quietly at the station while inquiries were being made—shortly afterwards he handed me this knife; it was closed—he said "This is
what I have done it with; I hope she is dead; she has led me a pretty dance"—the knife had blood on it—he was told to turn out his pocket—there was another small knife in it.
LAUNCELOT ARCHER , M. R. C. S., 38, Vincent Square I was called to the house, and found the woman dead lying on her right side, her right arm extended, and her head resting on it—there was a large quantity of blood round about her head on the floor—her dress was also stained with blood—I turned her partially over, undid the upper part of her dress, and found two gashes in her neck, one merely a flesh wound; the other went nearly back to the spinal column; that was the fatal wound—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted with this knife—I did not see the prisoner till at the police-court—his trousers were shown to me there; they had stains on them, which I think were blood stains.
JOHN HUNT . I am medical officer of the E district of St. George's Union—on 14th August I received a warrant from the Magistrate to examine the prisoner as to his condition of mind—I made that examination on 17th August, his wife being present—she complained that after he came from the Convalescent Hospital he had an uncontrollable desire to have constant intercourse with her when she was six months in the family way, and she believed he was not himself, and felt it necessary to apply to the relieving officer to have him examined—she said otherwise he was a kind and affectionate husband, always sober, and very regular at his work—he had just returned from his work when I examined him—I spoke to him, and remonstrated with him, and suggested his discontinuing living with his wife—after arguing the point some little time he consented to do so at once, and under those conditions I reported to the Magistrate that I thought this would answer the necessities of the case, especially at the earnest request of his wife that I would not have him locked up—I had him under examination three-quarters of an hour, but could not find any thing wrong about him, but there was a little wildness about his eyes, and his manner was rather morose—both of those are very often accompaniments of insanity—I put it to him that such was the case—he said "Well, that may or may not be; she will say anything; she can do as she pleases"—afterwards he said "Well, I will go away, and that will settle it," and I thought it would.
FREDERICK LAMBERT . I was house physician at Westminster Hospital in July last—the prisoner was there as a patient in the Burdett ward from 23rd June till July—he was suffering from pneumonia with pleurisy—he made a very fair recovery—during the time he was there I noticed there were peculiarities of his mind, consequently I directed particular attention to him—his wife visited him from time to time—she made a statement to the nurse, which was afterwards communicated to me—he was very melancholy, and judging from subsequent visits I diagnosed his condition as melancholia—that is a well-known form of insanity—I have no doubt now that he was suffering from melancholia.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon to Her Majesty's Gaol at Holloway, and have been so about three years—I have seen a great many cases of insanity among the prisoners—when a prisoner comes in charged with murder I pay especial attention to the state of his mind—I first saw the prisoner on 2nd October; he was admitted on the 1st—I saw him with very few exceptions every day—I have spoken to him many times with
a view of ascertaining the state of his mind—in my judgment he is insane; he suffers from delusions—he is under the delusion that he heard many voices speaking to him, neighbours and friends to his wife, saying that she ought to be ashamed of herself, that she ought to be killed, that men had been running in and out of his house all day, and that they had given her a good doing while he was away at the hospital; that seven or eight different men used to have connection with her of a night—he was also under the delusion that she drugged his beer at supper, which caused him to sleep profoundly, and then that she used to have connection with men while he was actually lying by her side; that she used to make signs at the window, and let them in on the sly—he was also under the delusion of persecution, that while he was living away from her at four different lodgings she used to cause his landlady to annoy him by putting stuff in his boots, which he described as naphtha, which caused his feet to ache and burn, and that men used to watch and follow him about—he said he slept very badly, and he complained very much of aching gripping pains in his forehead, whioh he does still—I have no doubt whatever that these are genuine delusions—this excessive desire is very often an early sign of insanity; melancholia is undoubtedly a species of insanity—he is now perfectly able to appreciate what goes on in Court—at the time he committed this act I do not think he was capable of distinguishing right from wrong, or that he knew the nature and quality of the act he did—he has always behaved well in the gaol—from the history he gave of himself this has been gradually progressing for some years, but it has been worse since his illness.
GUILTY of murder, but being insane at the time. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 25th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS POLAND, RAVEN, and GORE Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
RICHARD HENRY FRIEND . I am a cashier at the City Bank—an account was kept there in the name of Gilbert and Hughes, and on 7th September a cheque for 370l. was presented with signatures resembling those of Gilbert and Hughes (This was in favour of George Hughes or bearer.) I paid it in notes.
Cross-examined. It is a very skilful forgery, in the writing of four different people—"capital account" is written on it in writing which we are accustomed to see, or an imitation of it—whoever did it had a thorough knowledge of the operations on the account.
mine, but it is a very good imitation—each trustee signs his own name—this is from a cheque-book which was in my possession—the counterfoil is numbered 11485—I have missed cheques from different parts of the book, but not following one another.
Cross-examined. It is a very skilful forgery—I am not familiar with the writing on the body of the cheque—all cheques were drawn by me or my co-trustee—I kept the cheque-book in a drawer which was sometimes locked, but not always—only ourselves and the bank knew the amount of money there—two other cheques are missing which have not been pre sented—I have never seen the prisoner before.
CHARLES THOMAS GILBERT . I live at Ealing, and am co-trustee with Mr. Hughes and Mr. Philip Francis Gilbert in a trust account which was kept at the City Bank—none of the names on this cheque are signed by me or by my authority, but it is a very good imitation—each trustee signs separately for himself—this is a very close imitation of my brother's signature, but it is not his—I never saw the prisoner in my life.
HENRY FREDERIC HILL . I am a messenger at 42, Formosa Street—I was in Ryder Street, St. James's, and the prisoner asked me if I would go and change a cheque for him, as he had got important business to do—he handed me this cheque, with written instructions to receive it in Bank of England notes, and come to Lumley's office—I did so, and he came into Lumley's office after me—he tapped me on my shoulder and said "It is all right, messenger; come outside—I handed him the notes; he was alone.
WILLIAM RICHARD WATERS . I am a surveyor, at Lumley's, 22, St. James's Street—on 7th September Hill came in with two bundles of notes, which he offered to me; I referred him to the cashier—I afterwards saw the prisoner come in; I had not known him before—he tapped Hill on his shoulder, and said "It is all right, those notes are for me"—the prisoner and Hill went out together—I directed a pupil named Lumley to follow them, and I went out and saw them talking at the corner of Byder Street—the prisoner received the two bundles of notes, handed something to Hill, and walked away—I spoke to Hill, and then followed the prisoner with two other men down St. James's Street, as far as King Street—I overtook the three in Pall Mall—one of the men looked round and saw me walking with the pupil—they began running—the prisoner dodged between some cabs on the stand, and then through Regent Street—a policeman stopped him in the Haymarket—I said he had been using Messrs Lumley's name and address without authority, and I did not think the notes in his pocket were all right—the constable said "Have you any notes in your pocket?"—he said "Yes, they belong to me," and took them out, and we all went to the station.
Cross-examined. The first man who looked round was not the prisoner—he was between the other two men when he took the notes out, and the shorter man looked at them; that was in Pall Mall—I very likely said at the police-court "The prisoner handed the notes to another man, I saw him show the notes to another man"—I could not hear what they said—I did not see either of the men make any movement with his hand—when the constable came up the prisoner was walking—at Vine Street Station he referred to Messrs Griffith and Hughes.
—I said "There is some misunderstanding about some notes you have in your possession"—he said "No, they are mine"—they both went with me to the station.
WILLIAM WADE (Police Inspector C) When the prisoner was brought to the station, I said to him "You have some notes in your possession, there appears some misunderstanding about them, will you explain how you came by them?"—he said "I met two men in the Park yesterday, and met them again by appointment to-day; they asked me to cash a cheque for them I said 'Is it all right?' They said 'Yes,' and gave me a cheque drawn by Griffith and Hughes, solicitors, Oxford Street I gave it to the commissionaire; it was payable to George Hughes"—I asked Waters if he would accompany the constable to Oxford Street, and asked the prisoner to stop at the station; I asked him what he was—he said he was employed by Cassell and Co as a canvasser—the address he gave was wrong—he gave another address," 3, Providence Terrace, Earl's Court"—I did not inquire there.
Cross-examined. Another forged cheque for a large amount has been presented at one of the banks since the prisoner has been in custody, for which a man is awaiting his trial—this is it, it is on the same account, and it has the same forged signatures—he made a mistake in the names—it ought to be Gilbert and Hughes, and he told me that the cheque was payable to George Hughes.
Re-examined. I do not know whether the other cheque was presented before or after the prisoner was in custody.
Cross-examined. There are people who purchase lots of Messrs Cassell's goods who employ other people—the prisoner was employed by Mr. Woodcock, who is a wholesale customer—I have seen him there twice.
GUILTY of the uttering. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 25th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted GEORGE WILLIAM BANKS. I am assistant secretary of the London Society of Compositors, a registered trade union with a registered office at 3, Racquet Court, Fleet Street—that office is about three hundred yards from Bouverie Street—the prisoner was a free member, he had been two years there—I have here a book kept at the offices of the union which unemployed members have to sign on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and then on Saturday they come to get the money—the prisoner signed on the 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th and 20th April, and on the 21st April he came—I said, "Have you earnt anything?"—he said, "No, nothing earnt"—he wanted 12s., I gave it to him, and he signed for it in this book—on 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, and 27th the next week he signed the book—on the Saturday he came, and I said "Have you earnt anything?" he said, "No, nothing earnt"—I gave him the 12s., and he
signed the book—the same thing happened on the weeks ending 12th May, and 1st, 8th, 15th, 22nd and 29th September—I asked him on each occasion if he had earned anything—he said, "No, nothing earnt," and I paid the 12s. to him, and he signed the book—I did not know on any of these days when I paid him that he had been at work—I did not find out he had been at work till after 29th September—he produced no certificate from the "Father of the Chapel" to show that he had been in receipt of less wages than 16s.—with such a certificate I should make the amount up to 16s.—I should not have parted with the 12s. had I known that he had received wages from Davis—I believed he had not earned anything when he said so; that induced me to part with my money.
By the COURT. 3s. 4d. was deducted from the 12s. for subscriptions he owed.
By the JURY. I knew the prisoner by the name of G A Owen; he has signed as "G Owen," "A G Owen," and "A George Owen"
By MR. BESLEY. It is the same man who signed—this is a certified copy of the rules—the rule affecting the question of non-employment is No 28, clauses A and D—the acceptance of a copy of the rules when he signs makes the rules binding on him.
HARRY OLIVER DAVIS . I live at Stockwell—my father is a printer, at 17, Bouverie Street, Fleet Street—I manage the business—the prisoner was working there in the week ending 21st April; this is his bill indicating the work he has been doing and the size of the type he has been setting, and the work he has done which he was paid for by time after he had done his composition—he got on that day 1l. 6s. 6d.—on the week ending 28th April he was employed and presented this bill, which is signed on the back, and received 1l. 9s. 11d.—on the week ending 12th May he was employed, brought this bill, and I paid him 17s. 3d.—his receipt is at the back—on the week ending 1st September he was employed—this is the bill he brought, and he was paid 15s. 8d.; the signature on the receipt is the same—on the week ending 8th September he was working—he brought this bill for 12s. 11d.; I paid him myself—on 15th September he brought this bill for 18s. 4d., which I paid; it is signed "A G Owen"—on 22nd September he brought this account for 7s. 3d.; I paid him, and he signed "G A Owen"—we had no other man named Owen—he worked the week ending 29th September—this is his bill of that date for 17s. 11d.—I paid him, and he signed.
The prisoner in his defence stated he did it in ignorance; that he was unemployed nine or ten weeks when he did not sign the book; that some weeks he did not earn 16s., and that he was entitled to 4l. 4s., and thought he could draw it.
GEORGE WILLIAM BANKS (Re-examined) The prisoner would be entitled to 4l. 4s. if he had been unemployed for seven weeks, but he is not entitled to claim unless he has signed the book on every day ot the week, and he cannot claim up to 16s. unless he brings a paper from the "Father of the Chapel"—he represented himself as unemployed on other weeks than those that have been gone into, and took the money—
he showed a paper for one week for 11s. 3d., which showed he understood the modus operandi
GUILTY . — Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS HARMSWORTH and CRAWFORD Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended CHARLES PRICE. I keep the Bell Tavern, Pall Mall—I have seen the prisoner since February; she is employed directly opposite my house, at Albert Chambers—she has frequently come to my house to get cheques cashed—on 25th September my wife handed me this cheque for 6l.; I have since crossed it—I paid it into the London and Westminster Bank, St. James's Square Branch, next day—it was returned marked "Decline to pay; signature forged"
Cross-examined. I saw her after the 25th, not continuously; I might have seen her two or three times coming in and out of the house between that day and 4th October, when she was charged—I never spoke to her in my life—Mr. Levysohn called on me; I saw him twice, I think—the night the prisoner was given in charge Mr. Levysohn told me the story in her presence that the cheque had been given to her by a man in the chambers to change—he gave no description of the man—I charged her—before I did so I told Mrs. Leach that I would forgive the prisoner and not prosecute her if she would confess, on account of her age—that was not in the girl's presence—I don't know if that was with a view to the girl being told that—I don't know if it was to be kept secret from her—I have seen Inspector Andrews several times; he has not told me that was not a very wise thing to do—no one has told me I ought not to have done that—I think I have said two or three times that if the girl would confess I would not prosecute her—I understood Andrews to say she did confess; she partly confessed; she confessed in my presence to signing at the back—I prosecuted her because she did not tell the truth—if she had said she had written the whole of it I would not have prosecuted her—after I had prosecuted her I asked to withdraw from it; I was very sorry for her position—I consented to the solicitor acting for her asking the Magistrate to allow me to withdraw from it—I don't know if she is a girl of most respectable character and connection—I know Mr. and Mrs. Leach living opposite.
Re-examined. She did not confess to endorsing the back till the policeman had hold of her arm to take her in charge—I said nothing to her about not giving her in charge, I never spoke to her at all—I never said "I will not prosecute you"—I wished to withdraw from the prosecution out of compassion; I have no doubt about her guilt.
EMILY PRICE . I am wife of the last witness, and landlady of the Bell—about 11 o'clock a.m. on the 25th September the prisoner came with this cheque for 6l. and asked me to change it—there was then only the figure 6 and the word "pounds" written at the bottom; it was not endorsed—I told her she would have to go back and have it filled up—she went away and came back with it as it is now, except that it was not endorsed—I told her she would have to go back again and get it endorsed—she did so, and I paid 6l. to her, believing the cheque to be genuine.
Cross-examined. When she first presented it I told her I could not change it, and asked her if the gentleman who sent her was dotty or tight—she laughed, and said no, he was a foreigner, and was in a hurry to
go out—a gentleman in the bar wrote on the, cheque the words "the sum of six pounds," she handed it to him to do so—she might have come in the bar after the 25th, I don't remember her coming—I have known her since February 14th, as coming backwards and forwards—I was not present when Mr. Price talked the matter over with Mr. or Mrs. Leach.
By the COURT. I asked her who it was for; she said "The same gentleman you changed one for on Saturday"
Re-examined. I had changed cheques for Mr. Levysohn several times before; they were on the same bank, but not in the same writing.
MORRIS LEVYSOHN . I live at 20, Pall Mall, and am a director of the Union Bank of England and Spain—the prisoner is servant to the house-keeper of the chambers where I live—on Monday, 24th September, I gave the prisoner a cheque for 5l. to get cashed—she brought me the change—I keep my cheque-book in the middle drawer in my writing-table; I always keep that drawer locked—this cheque is taken from my cheque-book; it is not in my writing, I did not authorise any one to draw it—the money for it was never given to me—I don't know whose writing it is—I should think the drawer was closed on the 25th; to the best of my belief it was, I am always in the habit of closing it—the endorsement is not mine.
Cross-examined. It is no imitation of my writing—I would not swear in the face of the cheque being taken out of my drawer whether it was open or not on the 24th or 25th September—I spoke to the girl about it on the 27th in Mr. and Mrs. Leach's presence—she said it had been given to her by a man who came from my room; she described the man as very tall, with a black moustache, that is all I remember; she described him, she said he was shabbily dressed rather—she told me about taking the cheque to the public-house, and bringing it back again—she said she had heard the man speaking to somebody, she believed, in my room; and that she had given the money to this man and that he had gone into my room, and she went downstairs—she said nothing about his thanking her—I remember talking with the housekeeper about who it could be, and we went through all the people we knew—I did not say perhaps it might have been some one from the Bank; I did not mention the Bank—I asked the prisoner whether Mr. Leach knew of it, and whether he had anything to do with it—I did not tell her if she would confess I would not prosecute her, I had no intention of prosecuting her—I think there were workmen painting the outside of the house at this time—a good many people come to see me—not people whom I describe as impostors and order to be turned out—I remember once, or it may be twice in four years, having rung the bell and had Mrs. Leach up to show people out of the place, and not admit them again; I should not like to swear it may not have been oftener—I may have told Mrs. Leach to say to many people that I should not look on as friends or visitors that I was not at home—I have described them to Mrs. Leach as impostors, if you refer to many who come, beggars—people do come to beg from me—I have not had people turned out who came up to my room; I was called downstairs once by the housekeeper, and had a person turned out—I have known the girl since she has been there, over a year I should think—a good part of the winter I am in Spain; she always behaved in a perfectly honest manner to me—if she confessed I would not have had
her prosecuted—I should have done my best to prevent her being in such a position; Mr. Price, I think, who prosecuted, became her bail at the police-court—I asked for the prosecution to be withdrawn, we were both sorry to see the girl in that position and I think we both wanted to withdraw it—I saw her every day from 27th to October 4th, when she was charged.
Re-examined. I am not the prosecutor, I was moved by regret for the housekeeper, who took it very much to heart—I have no such man as has been described as an inmate of my chambers, or authorised to draw cheques—I had a board meeting and was at the Bank that day—no persons called on me that day except the secretary of the Bank, who called in the morning.
JOSEPH WEBB (Policeman C 82) At 8 p.m. on October 4th I was on duty in Pall Mall and was called to the Bell by one of Mr. Price's servants—when I got there he told me to wait outside for a minute, he should want me—I waited about two minutes, and then he called me to go upstairs, I did so; he explained in the prisoner's presence that she had brought the cheque for 6l. on September 25th to the house, and that Mrs. Price had cashed it—I asked him what he intended to do, he said "I shall charge her"—the prisoner said "I filled the date in and signed the name on the back"—before she said that Mr. Price said in her hearing "If she will confess to it, I will tear the cheque up and let her off"—at the station 10s. in gold, 6s. in silver, and 5d. bronze was found on her.
The prisoner received a good character
NOT GUILTY .
961. GEORGE MONTAGUE (40) PLEADED GUILTY ** to uttering an order for the payment of 12l. with intent to defraud, and to forging and uttering the endorsement on the order, after a conviction of felony at this Court in August, 1878— Six Years' Penal Servitude. And
962. HENRY STEVENS (48) to stealing a cheque for 2l. 17s. 7d., the property of his master, Augustus Challis, and to another indictment for forging the endorsement on the cheque— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 26th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MESSRS GILL and HUTTON
JOHN MATTISON . I was a fireman on board the Olmutz, belonging to the Orient Line, coming from Sydney to London—the prisoner came by the ship as a stowaway—John King was a passenger; he was a man about my height and size, but older, with a fair moustache—I am 27; he was above 30, I should say—we arrived in London on 11th September—four of the crew were going to Glasgow—I did not see King till night at St. Pancras Midland Station—I also saw the prisoner there—the train left there about half-past 9, I think—the prisoner was drunk—I was drunk; I was drinking all day—I got out at the first station after St. Pancras, Kentish Town—I could not tell for certain who was in the
same compartment with me when the train started, but there were some besides the prisoner and King; there were four of us at least—the prisoner wore a seafaring cap, like this (produced)—King was wearing a soft felt hat, like this—I don't remember anything taking place in the carriage except the prisoner and King having some words; I could not tell what it was about—they seemed as if they were going to take off their coats; I don't know whether they did—as soon as the train stopped after leaving St. Pancras I got out—I don't know whether anybody got out before me or not—I got into another compartment; Charles Lee was in that compartment—he had a bottle of whisky of mine—he was a fireman on board the ship—I don't know where I travelled to; I woke next morning in the Royal Infirmary at Leicester—I had an accident in the carriage; my head was damaged.
Cross-examined. The prisoner and King had no words or quarrel on the passage home to my knowledge—I had been drinking on this day, but not along with King; he was not in my company—I do not remember before we started from St. Pancras King calling to a man to open the door and let him out, saying that he had two bottles of whisky that he wanted to get at; he told me he had a bottle at 1s. 8d. in another carriage, and I had one at 1s. 6d. in another carriage—I don't remember the people singing as we left St. Pancras—I don't know in what part of the train King's luggage was.
CHARLES LEE . I was a fireman on board the Olmutz; I live at Glasgow—on the night of 11th September I went to St. Pancras station to go to Glasgow; the prisoner was there, King, Mattison, and other men—they were drunk, I was sober—at Kentish Town Mattison got into my compartment—the prisoner and King were in a different carriage—Mattison travelled on with me to Leicester; on the way he tumbled against the window and hurt his head, and he was taken out at Leicester—there were seven in the carriage before Mattison came in, he made the eighth—none of the others had come from the ship except the engineer—I cannot tell whose caps these are—I can't tell what the prisoner was wearing, the other is very like King's, but I can't swear to it—I could not say whether the prisoner wore a shirt or not.
ALFRED WHITBREAD . I am an omnibus driver in the service of the Midland Railway Company—on Tuesday night, 11th September, I travelled by the train which left St. Pancras at 9 15 in a third-class compartment—I could not say that the prisoner was in the carriage, he is very much like the man; I recognise Mattison as one of the party, and King also, and a sailor I brought with me from "Waterloo—between St. Pancras and Kentish Town there was a disturbance between Mattison and King—Mattison sat with his back to the engine with his coat off, the two got up to fight; I prevented them by pushing them back on to the seat—the prisoner then took off his coat and said he would fight any one in the carriage; I pushed him down on his seat and made him put his coat on, and told him I would have him out at the next station—King and Mattison shook hands when they found the train slackening; they were all quiet then—the prisoner and King put on their coats, Mattison sat with his off—the prisoner was wearing a striped shirt, I did not notice the colour of the stripes—this (produced) is the kind of shirt—both King's pockets were bulged out with bottles, he said they were lemonade bottles—I should say there were two or three in each pocket; I noticed that when he took his coat off—the remained in his pockets
when he put his coat on—I got out at Kentish Town, taking the sailor with me—I left the prisoner King and Mattison in the carriage—I at once joined another train, a local one, but I waited till the train started and saw nothing more of them—I heard next afternoon of a body being found in the tunnel—it took about five minutes to travel from St. Pancras to Kentish Town.
Cross-examined. I got in at St. Pancras about three minutes before the train started—the deceased was a stoutly-built man, much bigger than the prisoner—I took the sailor out of the carriage at Kentish Town, and put him in another, because I saw that these men were drunk—he was going to Glasgow.
By the JURY. I did not see anything the matter with the carriage door when I left Kentish Town; it was not locked—I closed it behind me when I left—Mattison was inside—the prisoner had on a waistcoat over his shirt.
JOHN BROWN . I am a ticket examiner at St. Pancras—I saw the dead body at the inquest, and identified it as that of a passenger by the 9 15 Scotch express from St. Pancras on 11th September—I put him into a third class smoking compartment—he appeared sober; he had had a little drink—almost immediately after he got in the prisoner came up; they seemed to know each other then—Mattison came up some time later, some little time before the train started—the deceased called me to the carriage door, and said he wished to get out—I asked what for—he said he had two bottles of whisky somewhere in the train—I asked him where it was—he said in his baggage—I said "You will be unable to interfere with your baggage now, there is not time" and he did not ask any more—when he entered the carriage I saw that he had some bottles, which he afterwards told me was lemonade—he said "I have some lemonade here, but I want the whisky"—the luggage compartment was in the next compartment of the carriage he was in—before the train started I saw Mattison without his coat and his waistcoat unfastened—I saw Whitbread in the train—I could not say whether there was a fifth man in the compartment when the train started—I spoke to the four men—they seemed to be on very friendly terms when they started; they had been singing.
Cross-examined. I locked the door after the two first passengers entered—the door was locked when the deceased said he wanted to get out—I did not unlock it.
By the COURT. They were in a third-class smoking compartment of a compound—there were three luggage lockers, four third class compartments, and three first—the luggage lockers are at each end of the train, two thirds came next at each end, and the three firsts are in the middle of the train—the deceased and the prisoner were in the first third compartment, next to the luggage locker, next to the Pulman car—the door on the platform side was left unlocked; the door on the other side was locked.
JOHN SMITH . I was guard of this train—Kentish Town was the first stopping-place; it stops there two minutes; it takes five minutes to get there—the train started punctually—I saw two seafaring men in a third smoking when we left Kentish Town, in the front compartment of the first from the engine—I do not identify the prisoner, but I identified the body of King as one of the two men—there were no other persons in that compartment—they got out of the carriage on to the platform at Kentish
Town, and I ordered them back—they got back, and the door of the carriage was properly closed by one of the men at the station; I was standing close by when it was done—the train went through Haverstock Hill tunnel on to Finchley Road Station, but our first stop was at Bedford—I there noticed the compartment where the two men had been—I was passing the compartment, and seeing the window down I saw only one man in the compartment—he was lying all his length on the seat with his back to the door—he had not to show his ticket there—the train left Bedford in due course—later on in the journey I saw the same man in the game compartment—at Carlisle I saw the ticket-collector shake him up and show his ticket—we rest there and at Dumfries—at Leicester I saw Mattison turned out of the train, injured and bleeding from a broken window—he was taken out of the last compartment of the same carriage—I went on with the train to Glasgow—we stopped at Kilmarnock; we were due there at 6 57; we were about one minute late—from Kilmarnock to Glasgow took about 35 minutes—I afterwards heard of the body being found in the tunnel and the shirts and cap—I have had the spot pointed out to me where the body was found, near the fourth air hole—the train would cover the distance from Kentish Town to that spot in three minutes and a half, and from that to where the shirts and cap were found about a minute and a half, going at the ordinary pace—I saw nothing wrong with the door of the compartment at Bedford; I was close to it, and if there had been anything wrong with it I should have seen it—it is a very important part of my duty to see to the doors as the train moves away.
Cross-examined. This carriage was the third from the break—I was at the back—there were about five carriages in front of this—I am not far from my break as a rule when the train is about to start—I may be at my break or I may be at a carriage a long way from it—I am responsible for the train—at Kentish Town, when I saw the three men on the plat form, I said "What do you want to be out here for? get back again; there is no time"—I spoke rather sharply—the deceased did not tell me that he wanted to go to another carriage; that was at St. Pancras—I saw him apparently trying to open the door, and I said "What do you want?"—he said "I want to go to my friends"—that might be five minutes before the train started—I understood that they were all of the same party—he did not say why he wanted to go there, no more than he wanted to ride with his friends—I said "Stay where you are; you have more room there, and you will be better where you are"—I did not try the door then—I saw that he could not turn the handle—I only saw two men on the platform at Kentish Town—I did not see the third one on the platform; the two might be as far as the door of the next compartment—I saw that they did get into the same smoking compartment, and I saw the door shut, and gave the signal for the train to start—there was nothing to attract my attention at Bedford when I saw only one man in the compartment; the window was down—if a man in that compartment wanted to get towards the luggage locker he would have to open the door, close it, and then get round it—it opens towards the engine—he would have to close the door before he could get past it—the door does not go quite back against the side of the carriage; there is a strap and indiarubber to protect it—a door is sometimes left open—there would be a few inches space between the door and the side of the tunnel; I can't tell the distance; it is one of the widest tunnels we have—I did not speak to the man at Bedford; I thought he was asleep.
By the JURY. The carriage door would not be locked when the train left Kentish Town, only the one on the off side.
HUGH MICKLE . I am a greengrocer, of 4, Duke Street, Kilmarnock—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, at four minutes past 7, I got into the train there to go to Glasgow—George Cowan was a fellow traveller—we got into a third class smoking carriage—the prisoner was there, on the left hand side, the side next the platform as you look towards the engine—we three were the only passengers in that compartment—after we started I commenced chatting with the prisoner—he commenced talking about the Colonies—he said he had come as a stowaway from Sydney, and he commenced to tell us about having a quarrel with a man in the train, and they had a fight, and ultimately they put him out of the window—his words were "I had a quarrel with a gentleman, and I received a blow in the right cheek"—he said after the struggle he opened his coat, and took off his shirts, as they were torn and stained with blood, and throw them out of the window—I asked him what the gentleman was like—he said he was a gruff sort of man, stouter than himself—he opened his coat and vest to show us that he had no shirt on—he said his father was a chemist in Hamilton, and he was going to Paisley Road, Glasgow, before he went home—he had a bottle of what I supposed was whisky, but I did not taste it, in his left hand coat pocket—he offered it me, but I did not take any—I noticed a mark on his right cheek, like a bruise; the skin was not broken—he was wearing a soft felt hat, something like this—the carriage was very wet—there was a little blood on the window next the platform, and a little on the floor opposite the prisoner—I put up the window shortly after we started from Kilmarnock—the mark on the window might be a spit, like a spit out of the mouth, and a hand drawn over it—the stain on the floor seemed to be mixed with water; the floor was very wet—there was not much blood; it was just visible; it covered about 2 or 3 inches—I left the train at Glasgow; the prisoner got out first—my friend and I went about our business at Glasgow—on the following Tuesday, the 18th, I saw Monday's paper, the Scottish Reader, on my way to Glasgow in the train—in consequence of what I read there about an inquest on a Mr. King I communicated with the police at Glasgow—I made a statement to Inspector Bannister, which was read over to me, and I signed it—this (produced) is it.
Cross-examined. I paid attention to what the prisoner said; he did the talking mostly, it was rather a friendly talk—I only remember one story—I said before the Magistrate, "He told us a lot of yarns; I took no notice of the yarns; I did not believe this story at the time, I thought it was sailor's boasting"—according to his account he had thrown the man out of the window, not out of the door; the door and the window is one thing—I have given three statements altogether—I have always said that he said he threw the man out of the window—if I had believed there was any truth in the story, I should certainly have spoken to somebody at the station—the way this began was his offering us both drink, we would not have any, he had some himself—we were travelling with him 35 minutes—he kept on talking pretty nearly all the time—there was no mark of blood on him—I don't know that the mark on his face might have been from lying on his hands asleep—Mr. Cowan saw it—there was a little swelling as well; there was a good deal of spitting about the floor, tobacco juice, as if sailors had been chewing and
spitting about a good deal—I have said "I did not pay much attention to his stories, as they seemed to be sailor's yarns, and very likely to be untrue"—that was my impression—there was nothing disarranged about the carriage.
Re-examined. He was quite sensible, he did not seem to be drunk, or anything approaching it—the bottle was nearly full—there were no bars across the window—I doubt whether he could have thrown a man through it—he did not say where he had got the bottle of spirits.
JOHN COWAN . I am a gardener at Dean Mount, Kilmarnock—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, about 7 o'clock, I was with Mr. Mickle at Kilmarnock station, we got into a third class compartment and travelled to Glasgow, the prisoner was in the carriage, no one else—he asked what place this was—I said Kilmarnock—after getting into conversation, he said he had travelled from England and he felt a little fatigued and he drew out his bottle and had a drink, he offered it to me, I tasted it and said it was rum—he told us he had come from Sydney as a stowaway—I told him that Mickle had been in America, so Mickle joined in the conversation for a short time—after that he told us that there had been a man in the compartment when he joined the train in England, and he was sitting at the far end of the compartment, that he seemed to be a strange looking man, and that he was looking very suspiciously at him—every time he moved his body his eyes were fixed upon him—so he took a drink out of his bottle, and then offered it to the stranger, but I can't say whether he took it or not, but he said the stranger was the worse for drink; that after having offered him the drink the stranger asked him if he could do anything with his fists, he replied that he did not know, but he could defend himself—with that the stranger struck him on the side of the right cheek—that he then took off his coat and fought him, and after that he threw him out of the door—I asked him if he did not look to see what had become of the man; he said yes, he looked out and saw him go past, the same as if he was looking for another compartment, and after that he opened up his coat breast, and showed us that he had no shirts on—he was wearing nothing under his coat—I could see that he had no shirt on—I asked him what had become of his shirts—he said he had got them so much torn, dirty and blood-stained that he had taken them off and thrown them out on the rails—that he had two shirts, a coarse one and a fine one or a heavy one and a light one—after that the conversation was about his coming home from Sydney as a stowaway, and that after he had been discovered on board he got 2l. odd for his work during the voyage—he said that he was going home to Hamilton to see his father, a druggist there, and that he had been five years out in Sydney—there was a blood stain on the window-glass inside—he said he had got a blow on his mouth from the strange man, and that the blood came from a spit out of his mouth—he said that he was going to call on some party at Glasgow, but I don't remember the name or address—so I told him it would be much better if he could get his face washed, for it looked very dirty, also to try and get a shirt to make himself look respectable with he was going home to see his mother, and I think he said he would try to get a shirt when he went to Glasgow—he was not to say either sober or drunk, like a man half in between—I saw him taking drink, he was not like a man the worse for liquor when we joined the train—that is all I can remember—we got out at St. Enoch's Station, Glasgow—we passed the
prisoner on the platform, and I never saw him after till I identified him at the Central police-office—I said nothing about this conversation, and knew nothing about the case till Inspector Bannister came to my place on the 20th between 6 and 7 in the morning—I made a statement to Inspector Bannister, which he read it over, and I signed it.
Cross-examined. The prisoner first spoke to me in the carriage—he started by offering us drink—I am quite positive it was rum—he told us a good many yarns, in fact I put it down as a yarn from first to last—I did not contradict him at all—the mark on his face was a slight one, such as a man might get by sleeping for some hours on his hands—I saw no signs of any struggle in the carriage, the floor was very dirty and wet, I saw no signs of blood on the floor—he looked as if he was fatigued—I saw no blood upon him—I put his conversation down to Bailor's bounce.
JOHN FIDDES (Glasgow Policeman D 54) On Wednesday, 7th September, about 10 40 a m., I found the prisoner lying drunk in Eglinton Street—I took him into custody—he was wearing a soft felt hat like the one produced—at the station he gave his name as James McKill, but refused his address—he was kept in custody during the day and night, and was brought before the Magistrate next day—he had no shirt on when I found him—I found 1s. 10d. on him, no bottle—I did not observe any mark on his face—he was fined 5s., but failing to find it he was imprisoned four days.
Cross-examined. The place where I found him was about three-quarters of a mile from the station he had come from; he was lying there hopelessly drunk, not unconscious, I had to rouse him—he was not able to walk.
WILLIAM SIMPSON . I am a labourer at Glasgow—on 12th September I was in the police-station at Glasgow charged with an assault—I was neither drunk nor sober—I was put in a cell; the prisoner was in the cell the worse for drink—we two were in the cell all night; we slept ourselves sober—he had no shirt on—I asked him what he had done with his shirt—he said "Coming down in the train I had a fight with a man and he tore my shirt; I had two shirts on and I took them off and threw them out of the carriage window because they were torn"—he said he had come from Sydney as a stowaway, and that his father lived at Hamilton—on 1st October I read in a newspaper an account of the death of John King—I then went to the police—I was discharged by the Magistrate next morning.
Cross-examined. He told me that when he got to Glasgow he did not know whether he had any money or not.
JOHN SMITH . I am an inspector in the service of the South-Western Railway Company—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, after the 9 15 train from St. Pancras arrived at Glasgow it was shunted and put on a siding—about 11 I was sent to examine the train in consequence of a telegram that came—in one of the third-class compartments at the rear there was a window broken, and the carriage was rather in a filthy state, and there was blood on the cushion and on the floor—I think it was not a smoking compartment—I also examined the front compartment of the same carriage, that was also in a filthy state, but I did not observe any blood in it, the floor was wet and there was tobacco juice, like sailors chewing and spitting about—I saw no trace of blood—I
examined the window, there was a blind to it—I saw no trace of any blood there—there were no bars to the window; when the window is let down the space is open—I noticed nothing on the outside—I examined the carriage carefully.
WILLIAM FRANKLIN . I am a platelayer in the service of the Midland Railway Company—at a quarter past 7 on Wednesday morning, 12th September, I was in the Haverstock Hill tunnel and found the body of a man between the outside rails and the wall, on the down passenger line, about half a mile from the London entrance to the tunnel near No 4 air shaft—I informed the station master at Haverstock Hill, got assistance and put the body on the platform and left it in charge of the police.
Cross-examined. There was a little mark on the wall of the tunnel, I could not say what it was, it might be a man's hand or a stick—the mark went about seven or eight feet, I could only see one mark—we thought it looked as if a finger had been drawn along the wall—there was not any bloodstain—the wall is dry, the steam would make the roof wet, the brickwork is rough.
JOHN COCKAYNE . I am a signalman in the service of the Midland Railway Company—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, about 6 o'clock, I was going on duty, and about 100 yards from the north end of the Finchley Road Station, I found these two shirts (produced) on the near side of the down passenger line from London, outside the rails—the shirts were close together, and this cap, about half a yard apart—I did not take them up, I moved them, just to see that there was nothing in them, and left them in about the same place—Mr. Harris came and took them up, they were put into the signal-box—I heard where the body was found, I should say that was upwards of three-quarters of a mile from where I found the shirts.
RICHARD HARRIS . I am foreman of the platelayers—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, about 25 minutes past 6, I saw the two shirts and the cap lying on the railway beyond the outside rail of the down line, about 100 yards from the near end of the platform of the Finchley Road Station—I picked them up, they were put in the signal-box and the police had charge of them.
FREDERICK SOMERS (Police Inspector Y.) On 12th September I saw the dead body of the deceased—I searched it, and found documents showing him to be John King—these two shirts and cap were handed to me that day by Cockayne—I afterwards saw the station master examine the tunnel where the body was found, I made notes at the time of what I found—Reading: " We found between the metals some brains and a piece of jaw, they were taken to the mortuary—on the tunnel wall, 44 feet from where deceased was found, at a height of 7 feet 4 inches, we found on the wall marks as if some hands had come in con tact with it—those marks extended at that height 6 feet, then gradually dropped for a distance of 10 feet, where the feet appeared to strike the wall at a height of about 2 feet, and descended until they struck the ballast, we could see the impressions of them against the ballast, there were marks there of the body coming in contact with the wall at a height of 2 feet, extending to a distance of 12 feet; the marks then ceased, the body being found at a distance of 16 feet further on towards Finchley"—I measured the height from the top of the carriage door
to the ballast, it was about 10 feet 8 inches; the door if open would be 3 feet 4 inches from the metals, leaving a space of 71/4 inches between the open door and the tunnel wall—I noticed the clothes of the deceased, there was no blood about them, they were very black and his hands were very black; the walls of the tunnel are of a slimy nature; if you put a hand upon it, it is very difficult to get it off again.
Cross-examined. The deceased's clothes were not at all disarranged; I found his money, watch, and everything complete.
By the COURT. I could not see any tear, but the doctor afterwards told me he saw a slight slit in the coat—his clothes were generally black—he had laid there some time—the hands were very black; they were not scratched—I saw no blood.
WILLIAM REECE . I am a registered medical practitioner—on Wednesday morning, 12th September, I went to Haverstock Hill Railway station, and there saw the body of a man that had been found in the tunnel—about two-thirds of the head was removed from the remaining portion, the bones were broken, and the brains scattered about, and part of the left jaw—I afterwards made a more careful examination at the mortuary—the injuries to the head were the cause of death—the hands were dirty, but there was no indication of abrasion or scratches on them—on the right knee there were two small abrasions, the size of about one-tenth of an inch, and also on the left thigh there was a small mark, otherwise the whole body was free from marks—these injuries may have arisen from a fall or by coming in contact with the wall—there must have been great violence to produce the injury to the head—the clothes were intact except a small tear on the left sleeve of the coat, about two-thirds of the way up—it was hardly large enough to have occurred by coming in contact with the tunnel—it was a very small rent, not an inch in length.
Cross-examined. The injuries I saw were not such as would have been caused in a fight—I saw no signs of any struggle—if the mark on the cheek was caused by a blow it must have been very slight indeed; it might possibly remain for a few hours; I don't think it would remain as long as 10 hours—it would be likely to remain 10 hours if there was an abrasion.
THOMAS BANNISTER (Police Inspector S) I heard of the body being found, and had charge of the case—after the inquest, on the night of 19th September, I went to Hamilton, and next day saw Mr. Mickle and Mr. Cowan, and took from them the two statements produced, which they both signed—on the 21st I went to the prisoner's father's at Wood Leigh, Portland Park, Hamilton—he is a chemist, and has two shops in Hamilton, and is a respectable man—I saw the prisoner there—I told the parents that I wanted to see him, and he came outside—I said "I am a police-officer from London, and am making inquiry about John King being found dead on the railway in London, and some shirts found on the line—he said "I had my shirt on when I arrived here in Hamilton"—I said "We had better not have any conversation till we get to the station"—he went to the station with me and Superintendent Miller—I there said "I have come to make inquiry about John King, who is said to have ridden with you from Kentish Town Station in a third-class carriage on the night of the 11th, and whose dead body was afterwards found on the line in Haverstock Hill tunnel; you are not called upon to make any
statement, and you need answer no questions, but if you do I will write it down, and in the event of any charge being made against you, it may be used against you; I will read you the statement made to-day"—I then read over to him Mr. Mickle's statement—he said "I wish to make a statement I know the man you speak of to be a passenger on the same boat as ours; he was at St. Pancras Station; we were the worse for drink I got into the train, and fell asleep at once, as I had been drinking, and I don't know whether any one else got into the carriage When I awoke they were taking tickets; the railway official shook me, and woke me up, and I did not sleep in the train any more I said nothing to any man about what is contained in this statement you have just read On arriving at Glasgow I sold the shirt I was wearing to a strange man for 1s. to get drink On Wednesday afternoon I was locked up at Glasgow for being drunk, and had five days' imprisonment I was released on Monday morning I know nothing about the death I did not hear of his having met with any misfortune till I was told of it on my arrival at home This statement I have made at my own desire I sold the shirt to a man in the street "He signed that statement, and was kept at the police-station—I afterwards went to his mother, and got his coat, waistcoat, trousers, and hat—there were no marks upon any of them—next morning, the 21st, I took the prisoner to Glasgow, and telegraphed to Mickle and Cowan to attend there and see him—he was placed with seven others, and they both identified him—on that occasion I read over to him the statement Cowan had made—he made no remark upon it—he was then charged, taken before a Magistrate at Glasgow, and remitted to London on the 24th—in the train he said "It is a pity I don't know who I sold my shirt to in Glasgow; I know that is the dead man's hat," referring to this felt hat, "but I told them at Hamilton it was not mine; I had a cap; I don't know what became of mine"—I afterwards fitted the cap on him at the police-court; it appeared to fit him—he said "Yes, that is mine"
JAMES BRIGGS . I am a civil engineer on the Midland Railway—this is a section showing the tunnel from Haverstock Hill toward Finchley Road Station—the proper name of it is Bellsize tunnel—I have drawn upon it one of the bogey carriages showing the position of the tunnel northwards—there is room for a carriage door to open wide; there would be a slight clear space—it is about 31/2 feet from the bottom of the door to the wall, from the footboard to the ballast is about 3 feet 6 inches, and from the ballast to the top of the door is about 10 feet 8 inches—the body was found about the fourth air-hole; that was 2,368 yards from Kentish Town Station, and to the shirts and cap about 100 yards from the north end of the platform—the aperture of the window when down is about 2 feet 3 inches high, and 1 foot 7 inches wide
Cross-examined. There are two steps to the carriage, one a little below the floor, and the other lower down—the minimum space between the tunnel and the door when open is 4 inches—facing the engine the door opens from you
JAMES CARRUTHERS . The deceased, John King, was my brother-in law—he had been to Australia in April—I expected him home on 11th September—he was 39 years of age—I received a communication from the police and came to London and identified his body at the inquest—he was about 5 feet 8 inches—he was not a vigorous man;
he was broad shouldered, and pretty broad across the chest; he was a strongly made man—I last saw him in April this year.
INSPECTOR BANNISTER (Re-examined) I have examined the two shirts carefully, there are no marks of blood upon them; they are very much torn, the collar is torn down the front in both of them—they have been examined by Dr Stevenson.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON Prosecuted JOHN SIMPKIN. I am a chemist—I occupy a shop at 82, Berner Street—on 8th September, about 12 minutes to 12, my shutters being up, I was about to close my door, when the prisoner came into my shop and asked for a pennyworth of ointment and a pennyworth of alum; as I was wrapping up the ointment I turned my head and felt a blow—the prisoner then ran round the counter and battered me about—my thumb is useless and I cannot attend to my business—this is the mark on my forehead where he hit me with the hammer—the blood flowed and my hat was knocked off and was afterwards found in the road—Mr. McCarthy came in—I picked up this hammer (produced) and gave it to him—McCarthy led me to the station—Dr Allen saw me the next day and has attended me up to the present time—I was confined to my house for three weeks and unable to sit up—I picked the hammer up behind the counter—I thought my life was coming to an end and said I would hold the prisoner till death—I never saw the man before—I did not speak to him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not weigh alum—the cause of quarrel was not because I would not weigh it—you did not ask me to weigh it—I do not sell it by the pound—you did not ask me to show the marks of my wounds at the police-court—they were not then healed up—I was obliged to have a cab to go there and back—I had not the power to walk—I have a slight mark behind the ear and another on my forehead and on my thumb—my thumb was cut and my hands very much injured—the blood was coming from all over me—you did it.
By the JURY. It is not my hammer, but the prisoner's—he had a chisel besides when he was taken to the station.
HENRY JOHN SMITH . I am a warehousman living at Chambers Street, Whitechapel—on 8th September, just before midnight, I was in a friend's shop opposite to Mr. Simpkin's—I heard screams in the street—I went out and saw Miss Simpkin—she called out "Come over quick"—I went across and saw Mr. Simpkin covered with blood outside the counter in his shop—the prisoner had hold of his throat and was punching him in the face and on the chest with his fist—I held the prisoner till a constable came—Simpkin went behind the counter to look for his hat and picked up the hammer.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you strike Mr. Simpkin with your fist—a policeman came in afterwards, and McCarthy—they followed me—the policeman was before McCarthy.
I was walking along Helen's Street—I heard a scream from the direction of Berner Street—I ran in that direction and into Mr. Simpkin's shop—I saw Mr. Simpkin battered about the face, and covered with blood—he handed me the hammer (produced), and said "Here is the hammer what he hit me with"—I looked around the shop—the prisoner was standing in the shop, and did not interfere with me, neither did I with him—I held the hammer till the policeman came—the prisoner was given into custody—I cannot judge whether he was drunk or sober—I assisted Mr. Simpkin to the station, as he said he was not able to go—his face and beard were all over blood.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Several people were standing at the door—I only saw you and Smith in the shop till the constable came in—I did not see you strike the prosecutor—the daughter was then in the back room.
FRANCIS JOHN ALLEN , M D I practise at I, Dock Street, Whitechapel—on 9th September, about 9, I attended the prosecutor—he had been seen by my assistant the night before—on the right side of his forehead there was a wound, and a very large bruise round it—it had been bleeding, and was through the skin and into the muscles—there was another wound at the back of the left ear, behind the ear, and bruises on both hands and on the wrists—he has had great difficulty in swallowing in consequence of the swelling of the muscles—there were bruises all over his body—he has not yet quite recovered—I have attended to him ever since—the second week afterwards his life was in danger—he could not eat or sleep in consequence of his injuries.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The wounds might have been inflicted by this hammer, or some other blunt instrument—the wound on the fore head might have been inflicted by striking against the partition—he may have been knocked against a sharp corner—the wounds about the hands were very severe—possibly they were inflicted by the hammer.
Re-examined. The bleeding was from the forehead and the back of the head—there was not much blood to be seen when I saw him; it was an open wound.
By the COURT. The prosecutor is unable to use his hands fully yet—the joints of his thumbs are very weak, and he is still suffering from pains about the body—he is now in a fair way to recovery—his eyesight has not been so good since the assault, and he has not been able to write—when a man at his time of life gets into such a low condition as he was he is likely to die—he was very excited at nights—one or two nights he was rather delirious—his skull was not fractured—the wound behind the ear would be caused by dashing the head against any sharp corner—the muscles of the throat were bruised from pressure, from having been clutched.
JOHN TABARD (Policeman H 85) On 8th September I was in Berner Street when I heard shouts of "Police"—I went to the prosecutor's shop, and saw the prisoner holding the prosecutor by the left hand by the throat, and punching him in the ribs with his right hand—I caught hold of him, and with the assistance of Smith I pulled him into the street—he was then taken into the back of the shop on account of the crowd—I got this hammer (produced) from McCarthy—I took the prisoner to the station—the charge was taken down by the inspector, and the prisoner said what
he had got to state he would state to the Magistrate—I did not hear him say anything before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I came to the shop I saw the prosecutor and you—I never looked for any one else—I saw you strike the prosecutor—Smith was in the shop—I do not know where McCarthy was, I made sure of you—when McCarthy gave me the hammer I was in the street and you were in custody—you were the worse for drink.
By the COURT. This is a blacksmith's hammer—when I got to the station I searched the prisoner, and found this long chisel sticking out of his pocket, and this ointment and alum.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been drinking, and quarrelled with Mr. Simpkin because he refused to weigh the alum, and he may have struck him when the hammer was in his hand; he had no intent to do him any harm, or he would not have dropped the weapon.
GUILTY on Second Count.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at this Court in December, 1876— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 26th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; MR. WADDY, Q C., and MR. GEOGHEGAN
WINIFRED BROWN . I am a governess—I live at 6, Anson Road, Tufnell Road—about a quarter to 11 a.m. on 16th September I was walking in Torriano Avenue—the prisoner was walking in front of me on the same side of the street—there was no one else immediately in front of me—I passed him and directly felt something warm on my back—I put my left gloved hand to feel what it was, drew my hand forth, and saw red stuff on my glove; it was a sticky, jammy substance; I tried to Tub it off with my handkerchief, and as I did so the whole of the back of my glove went into a big hole—I then turned round and looked; the prisoner had crossed over and was on the other side going back—I turned back too, keeping on my side of the road—five minutes must have covered all the time—I turned up Leighton Road, he also turning up Leighton Road, only on the other side, still in front of me—I met a con stable in Leighton Road, spoke to him, and he crossed the road with me after the prisoner—I had never seen the prisoner before; he was a perfect stranger to me—I examined my clothing at the station—my dress was a present, so that I don't know its exact value, but I should have to look everywhere to get it for 5l. or 5 guineas, and my handkerchief, and a new pair of gloves were damaged—I estimate the entire damage at over 5l.
Cross-examined. My aunt said at the police station in my presence that my clothes were worth three guineas—as she gave me the dress I let her put the value on, and she put it at three guineas, as it had been worn—I was first informed that the damage must come up to 5l. to support the charge when I attended here this week, that was not the first time it occurred to me that, putting this and that together, it would reach perhaps
to over 5l.—the prisoner said at the station it was a mistake, he did not say then he wished to pay for the damage; next day it was stated openly in Court that he was very sorry for the accident—he described in his way how it occurred, and he said he was perfectly willing to pay for any damage—I know nothing of him; he had no spite against me as far as 1 know of any kind—I was going to church and was going down Torriano Avenue towards Busby Place—just after this had been thrown upon me the prisoner crossed over the road from my side to the other—I did not observe that as he crossed the road he was looking up at an empty house—I did not see him in the act of crossing the road—I saw him on my side and then on the other—I did not notice an empty house, No 15 on the other side, the side to which he crossed—I should not have thought there was one empty, because I think all the houses on that side are occupied, I would not be certain about every one, I have not noticed—he did not come back on to my side again; but turned and walked back on the other side—I had crossed Leighton Road before this, and was going towards Busby Place—he afterwards turned up Leighton Road, and he had gone some short distance when the policeman took him—I was asked before the Magristrate "Did the prisoner attempt to run away?" and I answered "No"—I was asked "Did he quicken his pace at all?" and I answered, "He was walking at an ordinary pace"—I did not see his face, so that ofter this was over, and while I was following him, he never turned round to look—I cannot tell where with regard to myself the prisoner was at the moment I felt it on my dress; I did not see him at the moment—I was just a second past him—I was asked before the Magistrate "Then you did not see who it was when you felt it? A. No, because I thought it was an accident I passed him as he was going slowly along"—he was at the time on the inside of the pavement between me and the wall—the gloves were worth 2s., the handkerchief I cannot replace except by getting half a dozen; they are 5s. the half-dozen (MR. PURCELL here said that he should not trouble the Jury with the Second Count at to the value of the clothes, but that the case would only go to them as one of assault.)
GEORGE BLAND (Policeman Y 179) On Sunday, 16th September, about 10 45 a m., I was on duty in Leighton Road—Miss Brown spoke to me and pointed out the prisoner about 150 yards off going at a fast walking pace—I ran after and stopped him—I told him I should take him in custody for throwing something on the lady's back—he said "It must, be a great mistake, I am a respectable man, how dare you put your hands on me? "I took him to the station, where he produced a small empty bottle, and said "Here is the bottle, I did it"—I searched and found in his right hand trousers pocket another bottle containing liquid; that has been shown to the doctor—I found no marks or stains of any kind on the prisoner's hands or clothing—he gave a false address at first, 592, Holloway Road—I did not go there—when I say it was false somebody else told me—at the station the prisoner was charged with throwing corrosive fluid on Winifred Brown with the intention of causing grievous bodily harm—he said "I admit throwing the stuff, but I must deny the intent to do grievous bodily harm "
Cross-examined. The number he gave of the house was 592—I don't know that the policeman who went to look, looked at 492, came back and said that was not the right one, was told then by the prisoner
that he believed the number was 592, that it was next door to the Great Northern Hospital, and that he went there and found it was the right address, and that the inspector in open Court said there was nothing in the question of a false address—the inspector went to the house and said it was a false address first—592 is the right number I know—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner was going away as fast as he could—he was going as fast as he could walk, faster than an ordinary walking pace—I saw no stains on his waistcoat at the station—I looked; I did not shut my eyes—I was at the police-court the whole time—I heard Mr. Geoghegan ask the Magistrate "Will you allow the doctor to examine my client's waistcoat pocket to see if he can discover any stains on the lining?"—the Magistrate said "I have no objection to his doing so, but I can make no order for it to be done"—Dr Downes then examined the pocket, and Mr. Geoghegan said "Do you see the stains, doctor?" and Dr Downes said "Yes, it is stained by some acid"——when charged the prisoner said something similar to "I admit that I threw it, but I did not intend to do her grievous bodily harm"—I said in answer to Mr. Geoghegan at the police-court that he said "' I did not intend to do any harm whatever,' or something to that effect"—I was in uniform; it was half-past 10 and a fine day, good broad daylight—I was walking up Leighton Road from the direction of Torriano Avenue, which leads across—the prisoner came down Torriano Avenue and then up Leighton Road—he was behind me—I was in Leighton Road just opposite the end of Torriano Avenue—I was behind the prisoner as he came down Torriano Avenue—in walking down Leighton Road you pass the end of Torriano Avenue—the prisoner came from Torriano Avenue into Leighton Road before I crossed the end of Torriano Avenue, and I was behind him—I did not see him turn round the corner—the words the prisoner used at the station were "This is the bottle I did it with"—but after he was charged he said "I admit I threw the stuff"—I said that before the Magistrate—Inspector Miller was examined after me—I heard his evidence.
CHARLES MILLER (Inspector Y) I was present at Kentish Town Police-station on Sunday, 16th September, at 12 o'clock, when the prisoner was charged—he said in reply "I admit throwing the acid, but I deny the intent to do grievous bodily harm"—he gave his address on the charge sheet as 492, Holloway Road—I went to 492 with Taylor, another officer, and made inquiries there—I returned and said to the prisoner "The address you have given me is false; 492 is a Bank; you are not known there"—he said "If it is not 492 it is 592; you will easily find it; it is next door to the Great Northern Hospital"—I went there, and found that was the correct address—I searched the place—among some photographic apparatus, in an outhouse attached to 592, Holloway Road, I found this bottle of sulphuric acid—I found other acids there such as are used by photographers—I afterwards saw the prisoner, and told him what I had found—he said "I could tell you that was there if you had asked me"
Cross-examined. I found where this acid was a lot more bottles and camera and lens, and other acids and chemicals, and photographic apparatus, and a dark room—I made inquiries about him in the neighbourhood; he has been living in the neighbourhood on and off for some years—I did not search him—I think a document was found on him—as I understood it was an order for some different acids, but nothing was
said about sulphuric acid on it—it was on a billhead of some chemist in the Holloway Road—there was something else on it; I should call it merely a tradesman's billhead with charges for acids.
DENNIS SIDNEY DOWKES . I am divisional surgeon to the Y police at Kentish Town—on this Sunday morning I was at the station—I examined Miss Brown's left glove, and found the back had been destroyed by strong corrosive acid—I examined her dress, and found the back of it and he jacket thoroughly destroyed—the silk lining and the petticoat bodice she wore under it were also stained with acid—two small bottles, one empty and the other containing sulphuric acid, have been shown me—the marks were such as would have been occasioned by sulphuric acid—I examined the prisoner's waistcoat pocket at the time; I found a small red stain on the lining—that might have been caused by putting the bottle into the pocket; the empty bottle put in the pocket would do it.
Cross-examined. It was the stain of an acid in the same sense as I used it with regard to the stain on the lady's dress, but not so strong as the acid thrown on the dress—if it had been that thrown on the dress it would have destroyed the lining of the pocket; it would burn, not only stain it—this bottle has sulphuric acid in it still; the cork is charred by the acid By the JURY. The lady's hand was stained.
FLORENCE SMITH . I live at 23, Pemberton Gardens—on the 2nd September I went to St. John's Church, Holloway, at 25 minutes past 6 p.m. (MR. WADDY objected to the evidence as being the subject of a separate charge MR. PURCELL contended that the defence being that of an accident, he was entitled to give this evidence to show intent. MR. WADDY urged that could only be done when there was no dispute as to the person; in this case he could prove an alibi The RECORDER said he could not exclude it.) I returned from church a few minutes before 8—afterwards during the week I examined my clothes, and found the back of my dress and my mantle were burnt—my father went to the police-station—I afterwards went to the police-court—I saw the prisoner with three or four others outside the Court, and I recognised that I had seen him outside St. John's Church on the night my dress was burnt—there were not many hundreds outside the church (MR. PURCELL said he attached no importance to this witness's evidence)
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "It was a pure accident I was walking along the street quietly, looking occasionally at the houses on my left as I went along I wished to take down the number of one house I saw, an empty house At that time I was close to the railings of the house with my back to the footway I put my finger into my waistcoat pocket to feel for a pencil, and found that the cork of a small bottle of sulphuric acid that I had in my pocket had been forced out, probably by the heat of my body I looked in my pocket and found that the lining had been destroyed by the acid that escaped from the bottle At this time I was not conscious of any one approaching me on either side I took the bottle hastily out of my pocket and flung the contents, as I thought, into the road I then, having emptied the bottle, replaced it in my pocket and walked quietly along the street I continued my walk along the street until I came to the end of the street and then I turned up Leighton Road When I got about ten yards from the corner of the street I had been walking in a policeman came up to me, and I was taken to Kentish Town Police-station I said, 'The entire thing is a
mistake,' or that there must be a mistake, I cannot remember which, that I had not the slightest intention to do the lady any bodily injury I was not aware that I had injured the lady's dress till I was stopped by the police"
The prisoner received an excellent character
NOT GUILTY .
The RECORDER said that he quite concurred in this verdict.
Mr. PURCELL offered no evidence
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KISCH Prosecuted; MR. JONES Defended ARTHUR HOPWOOD. I am a waiter at the Salisbury Hotel, Salisbury Street, Fleet Street—I was on duty on Saturday night, 29th September, till 12 o'clock—about 4 o'clock p.m. I saw the prisoner come through the coffee-room—the prisoner has stayed at the hotel at previous times during the last eight years, I think, but he has not stayed there for the last three years or thereabouts—it is three or four years since I have served him—I saw nothing more of him about 4—I next saw him about 20 minutes past 9 in the hat and coat lobby, which adjoins the front hall—I went round the front way into the hall, and while there I saw him lift this long overcoat (A brown coat, produced) off a peg in the hat and coat lobby and walk out of the hotel—I followed and said to him "I think that you have made a mistake; that coat is not yours;" he said "Oh yes, it is"—I said "I happen to know to whom it belongs;" he said "Perhaps it is not mine; mine is either at Anderton's or at my office, 7, Water Lane; "I said "You had better come back, and I will send for the manager and you can explain it to him"—I went back with the prisoner and sent for the manager, Mr. Barton—in my presence the prisoner had been requested to leave the hotel.
Cross-examined. That was on the Sunday previous to this when he asked for a room—that was the only time—during the last three years he has been there once a month, or not so often—he has not stayed there within twelve months I am certain—his things were detained once for his unpaid bill, and eventually he paid the bill and took them out—I do not know that of my own knowledge—I don't think he has friends staying in the hotel occasionally—I know Mr. Bright, of Sheffield; I know he knows the prisoner—I do not know Mr. Treherne, of Bath—he took the coat on to the doorstep outside the hotel—the porter spoke to him besides me, no one else; I spoke first—neither the barmaid nor the lady in the counting-house spoke to him first, I swear: the lady is not here—she spoke to one of the men—I did not hear him make the statement before the Magistrate, that a young lady came up and said "That is not your coat," that he said "Yes, I think it is," and that then he discovered it was not his, and said "No, it is a mistake; it is not mine"—he had the coat on his arm, he had not put it on—the lobby is 4 ft wide, the hall is on one side of it and the coffee-room on the other—it is not necessary to go from the coffee-room to the hall to go through the lobby—not one in a hundred go out that way, there is another way—they go
to the far end of the coffee-room and come up the hall—there are swing doors between the coffee-room and lobby—if they come from the lavatory, as I saw the prisoner do, they would not come through the lobby into the hall—the prisoner had been in the smoking-room that day asleep in an easy chair—the hat lobby is lighted by one gas jet—I saw the coat hanging up, I cannot say if the outside or inside were showing—it was raining that night—I addressed the prisoner as Mr. Hamilton—I may have said "Whose coat have you got there?"—Anderton's Hotel is five minutes' walk off—to come through the lobby he would have to come by the little office where the barmaid or a lady cashier sits—a door in that office adjoining the lobby is kept open; the prisoner did not come that way, he came from the lavatory through the coffee-room and through the lobby.
Re-examined. The ordinary way from the coffee-room is not through the hat lobby—whatever the lady said to one of the men the pri soner did not hear it—all the witnesses are here who were before the Magistrate
THOMAS BARTON . I have managed the Salisbury Hotel about four years—the last time the prisoner stayed there was about two years ago—during the last two years he had come once or twice, but we have refused to let him have a room or to have drink—we had good reasons for that—on 29th September I saw him about 4 30, it was light then—he was standing outside a public-house at the side of the hotel, holding up a green overcoat examining the lining—as I approached he went into the public-house—on that afternoon I had to pay 2l. 2s. to Mr. Crampton, of Ilfracombe, for his coat which was stolen—in consequence of what I had seen I gave instructions to the servants at the hotel about a quarter to 6—afterwards Hopwood sent for me with reference to this overcoat—the prisoner said "There must be some mistake," and "Don't give me into custody, "or something of that sort—I subsequently gave him into custody—the coat and the waiter were there at the time.
Cross-examined. As far as I know the prisoner had not been in the hotel at 4 o'clock—I saw him between half-past 4 and 5—it was past 9 when the waiter brought me this coat—I have never myself refused him refreshment—I know Mr. Bright; I could not say if he was in the house or expected, I don't think he was there—he is there every fortnight as a rule—some one described a green coat of the same description as the one I had seen the prisoner with as the one he had lost—I believe I was informed of the loss of the green coat on Sunday morning—when I saw the prisoner examining the green coat I did not know one was lost—I have never seen the prisoner wearing a great-coat—I never saw him wearing this coat (A brown coat very similar to the one charged in the indictment was produced by the prisoner)—I heard the prisoner say he must have left his at Anderton's or at his office in Water Lane—I went to Anderton's myself and overhauled the coats there—I did not send to Water Lane.
Re-examined. I looked at some coats at Anderton's—I did not ascertain that the prisoner's coat was there
JOHN BATTEN (City Policeman 401) The prisoner was given into custody on the 29th, about half-past 9—I told him the charge; he said "I cannot understand what you are charging me, a gentleman like me, with taking a coat"—I said "I am not charging you, it is the manager of the hotel"—I told him he would have to go to the station with me
—he said he thought it was his coat—I said "Did you take one in?"—he said "No"—I asked him what caused him to take one off the pegs and to go outside the hotel door with it—he said "It was a mistake," and he very much wanted to go to the back of the hotel and on the way to the station he wanted to go and have something to drink—I found these papers on him and 1l. 1s. 2 1/2 d., some keys, and a pawn ticket—I went on the Monday to the address he gave, 7, Water Lane; I found he had no office there whatever.
Cross-examined. Mr. Morton's is No 7—I was told by a gentleman there that Mr. Morton allowed the prisoner to receive letters there now and again—I inquired as to the coat there; he never left one there—his overcoat was not produced before the Magistrate; he had not got any—this is the only one that was produced—I went to Water Lane after I came back from the Mansion House on the Monday—he did not make his statement till after the remand—I did not discover that a messenger had brought him his coat from Morton's while he was in custody—he had not his great-coat with him when he was taken into custody; I cannot account for his having it now—when I asked him whether he took a coat in he said "No, not that day"
Re-examined. No coat, except the one produced by the prosecutor, was produced before the Magistrate—to-day is the first time I have heard of this one.
ROBERT AITON TAYLOR . I am secretary to a Company, and was staying at the Salisbury Hotel—this is my coat which I left on the coat-peg of the hall of the hotel—I should say its value was about 3l. 10s. or 3l.—I gave nobody any authority to remove it.
Cross-examined. I left it in the lobby myself.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that he left his ulster at the Salisbury Hotel on the Wednesday previous, and hung it up, and that he afterwards took it to his office in Water Lane; that on the Saturday he was at the hotel for a short time, and on coming out took down the ulster in question, which was a facsimile of his, believing it belonged to him; that a young lady told him it was not his, and that he then discovered it was not his, and gave it up.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
GUILTY . — Judgment respited.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, October 26th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted THOMAS MILSOM. I live in Bedford-Street, Drury Lane—on Saturday night, at 7 30, I was in Little Wild Street—I was sober—I had had three
and a half pints in the course of the day—I was surrounded by four or five men—a hand was placed on my mouth, and I do not remember any more till some gentleman brought me to—I cannot recognise any of the men; the attack was so sudden—my head came in contact with the pavement, and was very bad—I have not recovered from the fall yet—my trousers pockets were torn quite out, but I had no money there—I missed 5d. from my coat pocket.
ALICE JANE MORRIS . I am the wife of John Morris, of 37, Great Wild Street—On Saturday night, October 6th, at 9 o'clock, I saw Milsom at the end of Little Wild Street with four men behind him; they knocked him down, one held him down and three rifled his pockets—it is a narrow road and I was two yards from them—there was a gas lamp there—I walked across, but can only recognise one of them, the prisoner; he had his hand on Milsom's mouth—I have not the slightest doubt of him; my mother and I followed him, and he said he would throw a brick at her if she did not go away; I did not lose sight of him till the policeman caught him.
CHARLOTTE BERESFORD . My husband is a porter, of 13, Little Wild Street—I am the mother of the last witness; I was with her in Little Wild Street on 6th October, and saw Milsom turn the corner and some men following him; the prisoner was one of them—I had never seen him before—the men went behind Milsom, knocked him down on his back, and the prisoner put his hand on his mouth while the others took the halfpence out of his pocket—he got up and they knocked him down a second time—three of them ran away and the prisoner walked away; I followed him; he turned round and said if I followed him he would throw a brick at me—my daughter ran on in advance; I ran too, and never lost sight of the prisoner till he was in a constable's hands—I have no doubt he is the man—I was fetched to the station that night, but was unable to see the prisoner, as he had taken off his trousers and would not put them on again.
ROBERT CORK (Policeman C 352) On 6th October, at 9 25, I saw the prisoner running towards me in Drury Lane, and persons running behind him—I stopped him and took him to Little Wild Street, where I saw Milsom and the two women, who identified the prisoner—I took him to the station—he was charged and made no reply—Mrs. Beresford was sent for the same evening we put the prisoner in the dock, but he pulled off his trousers, and she did not see him that night, but she had identified him before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Another man and I did not knock you down, and tear your things off—you were going from the Long Acre end of Drury Lane.
By the COURT. He was running towards Lincoln's Inn Fields, and would have got there if he had turned to the right, but he did not—he would not give his name that night, but next morning he gave his name, Michael Weldon, of a lodging-house in Peter Street, Westminster.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell in August, 1887, and 13 previous convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The Court awarded 1l to Alice Morris.
MR. TIMHOUSE Prosecuted ALFRED TOHLEK. I am a labourer, of 131, Fulham Palace Road—on 11th October, at 9 o'clock, my mother and I and my two brothers went to bed—no one else lives in the house—I was awoke by my mother at 2 10, and heard a smash of glass and a shuffling in the passage—I was sleeping in the shop and my mother in the back—I went to the back parlour door, but did not open it—I then went to the front door and called "Police"—I was in my night-shirt—two men came up—I made a communication to them, but they did not attempt to move—they said "There he is," and I saw the prisoner in the side road—he came up to the shop door and stood there—I asked him what he was doing, but did not catch what he said—my brother detained him till a policeman came—he was perfectly sober—I found the latch of the ante-room window forced back—that is separate from the parlour—a nail in the window, which was put to keep the catch in its place, was forced down.
Cross-examined. This was an empty house, and we were taking care of it—I did not see the prisoner inside the premises—he came up and wanted to speak to me, but I gave him no opportunity—he waited till a constable came, and made no attempt to get away—when I charged him at the station he said that he had lived on the premises, and thought the house was empty, and, having missed a train from Willesden and seeing the window of the house broken, he thought he would stay there for the night.
Re-examined. I did not know him before—when he came to the front door I thought he was a burglar—the other men halloaed out "There he is "quite loud enough for him to hear—I did not see the men again; they went away after the policeman left—the prisoner had his hands in his pockets and was walking towards the shop door—when I halloaed out "Who is there?" there was no reply, but there was a moving about in the passage—I then said "What do you want?" but received no answer—the bakehouse door was open.
MARY TOHLEK . I am the mother of the last witness, and live with him—on 11th October, about 2 a m., I was awoke by the falling of glass—I waited for a moment, and then jumped up, and called my son, who was sleeping in the shop—I heard a shuffling on the stairs, and called my other sons—my eldest son ran to the door in his night-shirt—I held the door, and feeling the handle twist round in my hand I screamed "Police," and my son said "Mother, we have got him"—I said "Here are some more here in the passage, "because the handle turned round in my hand—I saw the prisoner about 10 minutes after the handle was turned—he would have had to leave the door and go round—he looked quite sober; he was quiet.
Cross-examined. When I first saw him, my son had hold of him—he made no attempt to get away—he said at the shop door that he did not mean to do anything, he wanted a night's lodging in the house.
By the COURT. I cannot say how long the premises had been without a regular occupier—we had been there over a week—the house was empty when we went in; I do not know how long it had been unoccupied—Mr. Cox is the owner—a notice was put up, "Rooms to let, enquire within," and that remained up while we were there—his voice was not as if he was drunk.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted GUILTY . —The prisoner had been previously charged with a like offence, but convicted of assault only and sentenced to two months' hard labour— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, October 21th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS POLAND and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended OSWALD JOHNSON . I live at 31, Long Acre—I am a salesman—on Saturday, 22nd September, I was standing outside Sandringham Buildings about 10 p.m.—I saw the prisoner there—he is a cabman— James Williamson, who looks after the cabs upon the rank, was also there—the prisoner told Williamson he was causing the paint to be scratched off his cab—Williamson said "It was not done here, it must have been done else where"—the prisoner then got inside the Hansom cab—when he was on the footboard he said "I will tell you what you are," and called me a b——something—he then got off the board and went down to the horse's head with Williamson—another cabman then came and called out to Williamson, "Dick, look after my cab"—Williamson was known as "Dick"—the other cabman got off his cab and went to the prisoner, put his head in front of the prisoner, and the prisoner took off the cabman's hat and said "There's your hat, "looking in the cabman's face—the cabman then struck the prisoner and caused the blood to flow—the prisoner said "What have I done to deserve this?"—he went away and came back with a whip—Williamson was then standing at the horse's head with a stick in his hand—the prisoner held up the whip, and Williamson said "By God! if you don't put that whip up I'll hit you with my stick"—the cabs were then moving down the rank towards Craubourne Street—the prisoner walked to the corner of Guildford Street, and after the other cabman had gone, said "Take that," striking Williamson a blow in the face which felled him to the ground—my friend and I laid him on a doorstep—he was put into a cab and taken to Charing Cross Hospital—he was bleeding from the mouth and from the nose—he fell backwards—his head struck the roadway
Cross-examined. Matthews, the other cabman, said to the prisoner, "I have got this wood out for you"—the prisoner threw the man's hat in the road—he did not threaten to strike deceased with the whip.
HENRY KING . I live at 3, Sandringham Buildings, Charing Cross Road—I am a waterman—on Saturday, 22nd September, I was in Charing Cross Road about 11 15, I saw the prisoner and the deceased disputing—Matthews, who was sitting on his cab, called out to the prisoner "Leave the old man alone"—the prisoner called back "Mind your own business, what has that to do with you?"—the cabman got off his cab and went to the prisoner—they had a few words, I could not hear exactly—there was a bit of a scuffle, Matthews hit the prisoner on the nose and made it bleed, and the prisoner got under his horse's head
and stood on the other side his cab, and Matthews got on his cab and went away—the deceased was about 50 yards away standing in the road—the prisoner went to him and said "Take that," struck him in the face, and the deceased fell insensible—I saw him picked up and taken to the hospital—I turned to see where the prisoner was, he was gone—about an hour afterwards I was with Johnson and Osborne and saw the prisoner in Charing Cross Road, I said "You are the man that struck another man in Shaftesbury Avenue a little while ago," he said "I am not, "I said "You are," and the policeman took his number.
Cross-examined. I was not 30 yards away when Sheward struck Williamson—I was standing on the kerb within four or five yards—when the deceased was struck he was about 30 yards from where the row commenced.
EDGAR ROSEBROOK . I live at 9, Great Newport Street, Charing Cross—I was standing with Oswald and Johnson at the corner of Great Newport Street—I saw Sheward having a row about the paint being scratched off his cab, and a man said "It could not have been done here, it was done somewhere else"—Sheward got on his cab and said to the deceased "You know what you are," and used abusive language—another cabman got off his cab and struck Sheward in the face—Sheward directly got his whip and held it as if to strike the deceased, who held up his stick, and said "By God! if you hit me with that whip I'll hit you with my stick"—Sheward put his whip into the cab again and Williamson walked to the corner of Newport Street; Sheward struck him in the face and said "Take that"—the deceased fell flat on his back—I went with him to the hospital—on coming back I met Oswald and Johnson, and we stopped the cab in Charing Cross Road—the prisoner's number was taken.
Cross-examined. I hit the prisoner but did not put my head in his face—I was not drunk—I do not remember the prisoner throwing my hat in the road—I had a few words with the prisoner before I struck him.
WILLIAM ANDREWS . I live at Walworth—I am a cabman—on 22nd September I was on the rank and heard the disturbance—the prisoner said to the "rigger out, "as we call him, "Look at my cab, it is disgraceful, it is always the same every night as I come back"—Williamson said "I have not done it, I have to look after my living"—the prisoner said "You ought to be ashamed"—while the altercation was going on, another cabman got down and struck Sheward on the nose, but I did not witness him strike him—the argument went on about 15 minutes, and Williamson several times struck at the prisoner with a walking-stick—Williamson was a little lame; he flourished his stick several times and said he would knock his b——brains out—I did not see the man fall, I was 10 yards off—I did not hear what was said, I was in the crowd.
Cross-examined. Williamson was rather a quarrelsome man—he said to the prisoner "You've got what you deserve, you b——monkey"—he also cheered on account of the blow the prisoner got on his nose JOHN FRANCIS. I am a cabman—I was present when this altercation
took place—Sheward complained of his cab being rubbed up—he asked the man to take the bag off; he refused—the prisoner said "If you don't I'll take it off myself," and he took it off, and put it on the front of the man's cab—the man said "That is a liberty to take my bag off"—Williamson came up and said "You are always complaining about your cab being rubbed up every night; you are the worst one on the rank for complaining of your cab being rubbed up"—Sheward said "No, I'm not"—Williamson said "You are a b——liar"—Sheward said "No, I am not"—the cabs moved up, and the old man followed and wanted to fight, and put his hands up—he went a bit lame—he did not limp when he danced round the prisoner—he had a stick; he threw the stick down—he always had a stick in his hand—I should not think he wanted it to walk with; I should think it was a sham—Williamson said he wanted to fight the prisoner, "to have a go with him"—Sheward stood on his cab—Matthews came up and said to the old man "Punch him in the b——eye," and Sheward said "What is it to do with you? you mind your own business"—Matthews then got off his cab and said "I'll soon weigh you up in about one minute," and punched his head and on the nose—I said "You are both cabmen; you had better go away, because perhaps you will both be locked up"—Matthews went away, and the old man took his cab away—Sheward went for the number of his cab, and did not get it—the old man came back to Sheward's cab, which was next to mine, and said to him "I'll knock your b——head off with my stick," and raised the stick up again—the next I saw was the old man lying down—I heard the prisoner say Williamson was the cause of what he had got.
Cross-examined. I heard Williamson call the prisoner a b——monkey and "You have got a good thrashing and deserve it," and "Old as I am I will fight you," and flourished his stick.
CHARLES HARVEY (Policeman C 273) About 11 15 p m., on 22nd September, I was in Cranborne Street—I was called to Great Newport Street—I found Williamson lying in a cab unconscious, and bleeding from the back of the head and ear—I took him to the Charing Cross Hospital.
FRANCIS EVERED DUNCASTER , M. D. On 22nd September I was house-surgeon at the Charing Cross Hospital—I received into the hospital James Williamson from Harvey—he was half conscious—he answered two questions—he was bleeding from the right ear, had scalp wound, and bruises about the face—the blood was from inside the ear—the scalp wound was at the back of the head—about 12 15 he had two epileptic fits, and died the next morning—I made a post-mortem examination—I found a fracture at the base of the skull and the brain lacerated, which was the cause of death—a blow from a fist could not have done the injury—a fall on the back of his head on the road would cause a fracture of the skull and laceration of the brain—the fall caused the fracture—he must have fallen with considerable violence.
HENRY SCOTT (Detective Sergeant) About 6 40 a m, on 23rd September, I went where the prisoner was living—he came to the door—I asked if his name was Frederick Sheward—he said it was—I said "I have come to see you with respect to a man who was knocked down last night"—he said "Yes, he was messing about my horse's head; he struck me first, and I struck him"—I took him to the station—the charge was read over, and he made no particular statement.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries, and found that the prisoner,
has had a cab eight or 10 years for one master, and bears an excellen character as an honest, sober, and peaceable man.
Cross-examined. He was a quarrelsome man out of doors—he was 53 years of age.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 27th, 1888.
973. WILLIAM MUIR BUCHAN, Being entrusted (with William Henry Trehar, now deceased) with a draft for 1,000l., did convert part thereof to his own use Other Counts, for conspiracy with Trehar to defraud Edward Bolton
MR. COCK, Q C, and MR. MEAD Prosecuted; MR. LOCKWOOD, Q C., and
MR. GRAW Defended
WILLIAM EDWARD BOLTON . I was formerly a Major in the Army—I live at 34, Old Burlington Street—in May this year I was at Madeira; my attention was called to the Methuen settlement, and I telegraphed to Graham, the agent, 2, Waterloo Place—I received a prospectus, and opened a correspondence with the London office, 2, Waterloo Place—I arrived in England on June 19, and went that day to the office, 2, Waterloo Place, with Mr. Wilson, a friend of mine, who contemplated emigrating with me—we saw Mr. Hand and Mr. Hooper there, and the defendant, who said that he had received a grant of land from the government, and pointed it out on a map which he said had been obtained by favour from the Foreign Office, London, during the occupation of Bechuana Land by our troops; Thomas Mitchell was the agent there, who had gone out to take a farm there, and he was so satisfied that he had sent to Cape Town for his stores and other things which he had left there, and that I could either take a farm then or when I went out, and he promised that I should have a river frontage to the farm—I went to Derbyshire on June 19th, and returned on the 30th, and saw the prisoner—he again referred to the map and showed certain ground where the settlement was situated between three rivers and said that I could take any farm that was not already occupied—on 2nd July I went there again and saw Captain Trehar, the agent of the settlement—I repeated to him what had taken place between me and Mr. Wilson, and told him that as my two friends would not be able to take these farms, I could only take one farm (E. G. Edgell, clerk to Martin and Co., of 48, Lombard Street, bankers to the Methuen Settlement, produced an affidavit in Chancery, dated August 23, by which it appeared that William Henry Trehar was appointed agent on the retirement of Mr. Graham.) told Trehar that I had 1,000l., and asked how much money he required in England for outfit and passage; he said "400l. will be ample; "I said "You can retain the 400l. to my order and pay 600l. through the Methuen Settlement, as they can forward it free of expense to South Africa, through the Standard Bank "I arranged to write to my solicitor to forward the 600l. and retain the 400l.—on 5th July I went to the office again and saw the prisoner and Trehar and the clerk, Hooper; Trehar showed me a letter
from my solicitor, dated July 4; I endorsed the draft and Trehar wrote a letter, dated July 5, in the prisoner's presence and mine—I cannot say whether this is it, for I did not read it; he said "This is a receipt for your money," and then he said "Let me have it back to have it entered in the book, and I gave it back without reading it, and next morning I received this letter: "My dear Sir,—I am in receipt of your instructions to pay 600l. to South Africe on solicitor's on cheque, and the balance, 400l., will remain; "I then wrote an order giving them directions to place the 600l. at the bank at Kimberley—on 5th July I went to the office and my solicitor's letter to the prisoner was read; he handed him the cheque, told him my directions were to place 600l. at the bank, at Kimberley and retain 400l. to my order, and the prisoner said, "Your directions shall be carried out"—on 13th July I went there again and saw Trehar, Hooper, and Chatham, who represented the company's solicitor; I told Trehar I was going to take one part, and told him to deposit 200l. in my hands and retain 200l. to pay for the farm; that was the price of a single farm the second farm would be less if I took two—he said he should have to speak to the solicitor; I said "The solicitor has nothing to do with it; the money was placed in the company's hands to my direction," and I directed him to give me 200l.—he said "The money has been already passed to the credit of the Methuen settlement account in payment for three farms—I said that I should only take one farm, and I had not given him directions to take more than one, and that I should go to my solicitors—when I got home that evening I wrote a letter to Buchan, of which this is a copy—(Stating that he did not wish to proceed to extremities, but did not understand me gentleman at the office confiscating the funds, as he had not given authority for them to use the money, and asking for a cheque for 200l. to be forwarderd to him)—I received this letter in reply: (This was from the prisoner, stating that the witness had nothing to complain of as he had telegraphed to take three farms, and corroborated the same by letter.)—I then received a letter dated 17th July from Captain Trehar (This stated that the witness was indebted to the settlement 150l. due on the third farm, which he would cancel, and pay the difference in the price of the first two farms, and on his signing an agreement to purchase them would give him a cheque for 50l.) I then instructed my solicitor to issue this writ: (Dated 26th July, for 400l. money had and received.)—An appearance was entered to that—when I issued that writ I believed that the money was still to my credit at the bank—I have not obtained one penny of my 400l.
Cross-examined by LOCKWOOD. This is my, telegram from Madeira "June 4th, 1888, take three farms for party coming England Fortnight Bolton"—I was not the "party"—one farm was for Mr. Swanham, one for Mr. Elliot Wilson, and one for myself; I was acting for them; if I had intended them to believe that I was going to take three farms, I should not have put "party"—my definition or "party" is, more than one person, and I disclosed the names in a letter subsequently—I had friends who were going out with me, who I relied on to take three farms—I do not know John Graham, he was not there at all; he is not a friend of mine—there was no person named Graham during the whole time I was communicating with them—I met Hill since I came home, he is an acquaintance, I cannot say if he is a friend—(A letter from the witness was here read, in whích he said "We have'
determined to take three farms, I am awaiting letters from Mr. Swan ham, who went to England a fortnight ago; if he will join Mr. Wilson and myself in the business I and Wilson will certainly go out and try our luck ") On July 2nd I ascertained that Mr. Wilson would not take a farm, and I told Mr. Trehar so the same day, and I believe there was a post-card in which it was mentioned, but I cannot say the date—this (produced) is what I mean by a post-card (This was a letter card, and stated "The advertisement is mine; my friends who promised to come out with me have all ratted to a man, and I cannot go out alone, and have not the means to take all the farms myself, so I hope to get some youngsters, and therefore applied to the public, &c") That was addressed to Trehar—I cannot recollect the date, but as my advertisement for pupils appeared in the Standard on the 3rd, 4th, 6th, 7th, and 9th, it must have been about the 3rd—I have had experience in farming abroad—I also advertised in the Field—I asked the youngsters to pay 125l. a year, and was prepared to take from four to ten—the farm was 6,000 acres, and I should have had room to teach them—the Settlement was going to give 3,000 acres and the Government 3,000—they were charging 200l. for half, and the Govern ment charged 400l. for the 6,000 acres—I directed my solicitor to send the cheque to Trehar, and I made Trehar the defendant in the civil action—at the interview of 13th July Trehar told me that I must take the three farms, and that he should consult his solicitor, Mr. Chatterton, who came in before the interview—I waited before the interview quite half an hour—Chatterton came in, and after he left I had the interview—Trehar had a blank cheque, which he gave to Chatterton, who signed it—that was not after the interview; it was before—Mr. Trehar died on the morning of the first hearing at Marlborough Street—I had no communication with him after his letter, offering to let me take two farms—I have had no negociation about it since his death—I know Andrew Hutton—I saw him four or five times—I told him that I held out for 400l., and that negociation must go through my lawyers—I do not know what Hutton is, but he comes and speculates in an office in London where I go—Trehar offered me 200l. down, 50l. for my expenses, and a guarantee for 200l. more—I was to instruct my solicitor to request the Recorder, or whoever was the person, to allow these proceedings to be dropped—I know that the prisoner has a brother on the Stock Exchange, who is Well-to-do—I do not know that the money was to be obtained from him—Mr. Hutton did not say where it was to come from—I did not discuss with Hutton what his share was to be—he and I go to Messrs Hodding, King, and Co—I have not been speculating in beer a little time before—I have sometimes lost money at Hodding and King's—Andrew Hutton was not my go-between—I do not know whether he is bringing an action against Mr. Patrick Buchan, but I have heard it spoken of—I do not discuss Mr. Hutton's business.
Re-examined. Hutton professed to come to me from the prisoner to make this offer—he was not acting with my instructions or authority in any sense—if I received the 400l., out of which I considered I had been defrauded, I was willing to allow the matter to drop if the Judge approved—before that I took the advice of my solicitor—I have since found that Graham was not there, and I never sent the telegram—a telegram from Madeira costs 1s. 8d. a word—I said in it "Take three farms for party," and in a letter of the same date, sent at the same time, I explained who
the party were—two of the gentlemen eventually decided not to take farms, and I decided to take one for myself, and explained it fully to Trehar, after which there was no question of taking three farms for myself—I instructed my solicitor to take proceedings for the recovery of the money, after which I discovered the state of the account, and what became of the money, and on 23rd August I commenced criminal proceedings—I never saw Graham till after 23rd August, nor did I know Hill.
By the COURT. When I sent the telegram I had entire confidence in the other two gentlemen joining me in taking the farms—they afterwards ratted, and I was placed in a false position with regard to the message I first sent—I had not sent any agreement.
E. G. EDGELL (Re-examined) An account was opened at our bank in June this year in the name of W H Trehar, and on July 5th a banker's draft on Robarts and Co for 1,000l. was paid in to that account—then two cheque-books (produced) were issued to Captain Trehar—on 5th July, before the 1,000l. was paid in, the credit balance was only 3l. 6s. 3d., and nothing had been paid in since July 5th—the last operation was on 31st August, and then the balance was 12s. 3d.—the cheques which had been presented, signed by Captain Trehar, have been gummed to the counterfoils—the counterfoils of 6th July are "Salaries, 18l. 10s.; Buchan's private account, 22l. 10s.; total, 41l."—Singleton and Hooper paid them in—I do not know in whose writing the counterfoils are—all these counterfoils are stamped "Methuen settlement, 2, Waterloo Place"—Trehar is the drawer—on 6th July here is another cheque, "Wages, 2l. 2s. 6d.; Buchan's account, 2l. 10s.; petty cash, 12s. 6d.; total, 5l. 5s."—on 10th July here is a cheque to Buchan for 291l. 1s. 3d., which is endorsed by him—on 14th July, balance, 272l. 13s. 9d., and 25l., "W. M. B.," and another cheque for 25l., endorsed by Buchan—on 16th July, balance, 247l. 13s. 4d. (Reading the amount of cheques endorsed by the prisoner; also others on 23rd and 24th July, and August 2nd.) I find no entry in that account of 400l., or any large amount being forwarded to South Africa to the Methuen settlement—this letter of 31st May is signed by Buchan, but not written by him—it is addressed to Martin and Co., asking that the pass-book should be sent—in June there is the same writing in the body; it is signed by Buchan—on June 28th here is a letter from Buchan to Hooper—the Methuen settlement account was closed about June 27th; I do not know for certain.
GEORGE HENRY HODGSON . I am superintendent of St. George's Club, of which the defendant is a member—I cashed this cheque for him of 23rd July in favour of Myers—this is, I believe, his signature at the back, but I am not certain—he was dining at the club, I believe, on that occasion.
This being the case for the prosecution, MR. LOCKWOOD contended that there was no case to go to the Jury; it was necessary under the Act that there should be a direction in writing to the defendant, whereas the direction was to Trehar, who is dead; the prosecutor had entrusted Trehar with the money, had applied to him for its return, and had sued him for it; and the direction in writing was addressed to Trehar only, and could not be construed into a joint direction to Trehar and the defendant, and as to the conspiracy, there was no evidence of any overt act of the defendant to make
him criminally liable, MR. COCK contended that there was evidence upon both Counts, that the defendant appointed Trehar as his representative, who handed him the letter containing the direction in writing, and he read it and acted on it. (See Reg. v. Cronmire, Cox Criminal Cases 16, p. 42 Also that there was ample evidence of conspiracy The RECORDER considered that there was no direction in writing to anybody, but that if there was, it was to Trehar, and not to the defendant, and therefore there was no case to go to the Jury
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROOK Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended JOHN HAWKER. I am independent and live at 28, St. George's Place, Knightsbridge—on 18th July about 7 p.m. I met a lady by appointment in Buckingham Palace Road—I then stopped and spoke to a letter carrier, and we all went towards Victoria Station, the postman then left me and returned with two men—the prisoner was one of them, and he said "Will you pay about 26s. which this lady lost over a bet"—I said "Certainly not," and moved towards the Victoria Hotel, the prisoner and the other man followed me, and the postman in the rear—I said to the prisoner "I shall make inquiries at the post-office as to this postman's conduct"—the postman said "If you do I shall probably lose my appointment"—I said "Perhaps your story may be as good as this young lady's, therefore, I shall do nothing until I make further enquiries"—the lady was there and three men, and I asked the whole six to come and have a friendly drink, and we all went to a public-house for half an hour; drank, and left together—I then said to the postman, "Good day, you had better go and deliver your letters, as you have already been with me half an hour"—he went away, and the prisoner and a man not in custody followed me—the lady followed behind—I said to the prisoner "What do you want, if you want another drink have it, for I must go"—he said "Yes, certainly I do, and he and I and the other man not in custody went into a public-house next door to the Victoria Hotel, and had a glass of beer—the lady waited outside—I went out and the prisoner and the other man followed me, I said good day to the lady, and walked rapidly away towards Lower Belgrave Street—I looked round and saw the prisoner and the other man following me; I hurried into a public-house to escape them and called for a glass of beer, but they came in and the prisoner said "Oh! here you are again"—he asked me to drink at his expense, I said "I have a glass of beer here, I will pay for your drink"—I was about to leave the house when he placed himself against the bar door, and attempted to trip me up, with the other man, but I got out and walked rapidly towards Eaton Square—I had got about 150 yards when they surrounded me; there may have been a third man—the prisoner seized me by my shoulder and dashed me back against the other man, who again threw me forward, and the prisoner seized me again by my shoulder, and whirled me round and threw me down some circular stone steps of an area; I went half way down them, and my fall was broken by some iron-work—the prisoner and the other man ran down after me and pinned me against the area wall—I said to the prisoner "Don't kill me," he seized my watch and tried to break my chain, he then took my watch off the swivel, I
saw it in his hand as he ran up the steps, while the man not in custody, held me—I dropped my umbrella from a blow—after the prisoner got to the top of the steps, the other man let me go and ran up the steps, I fell against the wall—I called out "Bring back my property, and I will reward you—I went back to the last public-house I was at, the Plumbers' Arms, told the landlord what had happened and handed my chain to him to take care of—I then went in search of the prisoner and went to the station and described him—two months afterwards I picked him out from a group, I have not the faintest doubt about him.
Cross-examined. I called the lady my sister—I had known her about 24 hours; I met her the day before and was meeting her that evening by appointment at 6 o'clock—I was punctual, but she was not; she came half an hour afterwards—I left home at 10 a.m. and attended to some official business—I did not call in at any place, but afterwards we all went to a public-house; I don't know the name of it—I went to the Plumbers' Arms for shelter; I had a glass of beer there and then a little rum and water—that made me feel giddy all at once—the public house next the hotel was not the Plumbers' Arms—I forgot that house before the Magistrate, and I did not say that the prisoner placed himself against the door and tripped me up—that is all quite fresh—I do not remember asking a cabman to drive me that night and his saving I was too drunk to be carried—I was not in the Windsor Castle that night, but I know it, I don't know the Shakespeare—it is possible I may have been there with the lady after I spoke to the postman, but I do not remember it—I was not in the King's Arms that night—I had some difficulty in getting my chain out of my waistcoat, but that was through the injury I received—my hat saved my head—I afterwards took a policeman to the Elephant and Castle at 11 p.m. and pointed the prisoner out—he said at Gerald Street Station, "You were drunk that night; you were with prostitutes and had four or five glasses of rum with me," which I denied ARTHUR ROXBERG. I am a shoe-black—on 17th July at 7 15 p.m. I saw Mr. Hawker and a young lady talking together; three men followed them, the prisoner is one and the other was a postman; I saw one on each side of him and a third man behind; the went towards Lower Belgrave Street—I made a statement to the constable next day.
Cross-examined. The lady and gentleman went into the King's Arms—that is 80 yards from the Shakspeare—they came out in three or five minutes, and went down Buckingham Palace Road—That is where I saw them last—it was then a quarter to 8 MARY FLETCHER. I am single—I met Mr. Hawker the day before this and on 18th July, between 4 and half-past, I met him by appointment; we walked down Buckingham Palace Road, and a postman came up and said, "I understand you have been to the Post Office about me;"
I said "Yes;" he said "I will make it d——o hot for you"—they went in and had a few drinks, I want with them, and the postman waited two hours without delivering his letters—he and the man not in custody kept pushing me and telling me not to stay, as the prosecutor did not want me, and I went home—I afterwards identified the prisoner in the dock at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I met Mr. Hawker and went with him to the Shakspeare about 6 o'clock on the day he was robbed—he only had a
glass of ale; he Lad nothing in the ale—we were there about 20 minutes, and then went to a public-house in Lower Belgrave Street, but I did not go inside—we met the postman in Buckingham Palace Road—we did not go to a second public-house before we met the post man—I do not know the King's Arms—I went into a public-house soon after they met—I went to the Plumbers' Arms, but remained out side—I left them there; that was the last I saw of them—I do not know Chapman; I have not been in his service—I have had about three bets, but have not won much.
MARY HOLCOMB . I am barmaid at the Plumbers' Arms, Lower Bel grave Street—on 18th July, at 8 o'clock, I served the prosecutor with drink—he went out, and two men followed him out; the prisoner is one of them—I saw him at the police-station two months after, and identified him—the prosecutor was quite sober.
Cross-examined. All the parties were strangers to me—they stayed 20 minutes—I never serve people who are the worse for drink.
WALTER SMITH (Policeman) On 27th September I was in plain clothes, and saw the prisoner with several others at the Elephant and Castle—I thought he answered a description which I had, and told him I should take him in custody on a charge of robbery of a gold watch, a pin, and a locket, and umbrella on July 18th—he said "Me, I think you have made a mistake"—I took him to Gerald Road Station, placed him with a number of others, and the prosecutor instantly identified him.
Cross-examined. I took him from the mere description—the prosecutor was not with me; he is a licensed cabman.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I can prove that the woman had a bet, by the man behind"
GUILTY . — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, October 27th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
975. SIDNEY DICK ALLEN STONEHAM, Unlawfully converting to his own use and benefit the proceeds of a cheque for 120l. entrusted to him as attorney and agent with directions in writing to pay to a certain person.
MESSRS POLAND and GILL Prosecuted; MESSES LOCKWOOD, Q C., and
ISIDORE EMANUEL WERTHEIMER . I am in business with my father at 154, New Bond Street; we are dealers in works of art—in July I was plaintiff in an action relating to some furniture—Mrs. Wenham was the defendant—the action was in the paper for trial in July, and by the advice of counsel I consented to pay 120l. on judgment being entered for me for the furniture, which at that time was in the possession of a Mr. Finch—after the action had been settled, I went away for a holiday to Trouville, and afterwards to Paris—the prisoner acted as my solicitor with reference to the action—when I got to Trouville I received this letter (produced) from him, containing a form of receipt (The letter stated that he had sent to Hart and Wrench the enclosed form of receipt, and asked them to obtain Mrs. Wenham's signature; and that Mr.Wertheimer had better send him a cheque
so that he could hand notes and gold for the receipt.) I was satisfied to pay the 120l. on that receipt, and on 16th August I wrote to the prisoner this latter (This, dated Paris, 6th August, 1888, said that he quite approved of the form of receipt to be signed by Mrs. Wenham, and that he sent a cheque for 120l. to be changed for it; but that he would accept nothing less than that form of receipt as it stood.) This cheque for 120l., drawn on a piece of plain paper, was enclosed in that letter (The cheque was dated London, 16th August, drawn on the Bank of England, Western Branch, in favour of Stoneham, for Mrs. Wenham or order for 120l., and was signed I E Wertheimer, and endorsed by Stoneham.) I received on 18th August this letter, dated 16th August, from, the prisoner, acknowledging the receipt of the cheque (This letter, dated 7, Vigo Street, August 16th, said that he therewith sent a form of receipt which Messrs Hart had sent him that morning, and which was in the exact terms of the endorsement on the brief; that if Mr. Wertheimer sent him a cheque he would settle it at once on those terms, and would not part with the money till the receipt was signed by Blanche Wenham.) When I had received that letter I had already sent my cheque and letter—about 29th August I returned to England, and within a day or two I saw the prisoner at his office—I asked him if he had included the voucher signed by Mrs. Wenham among the vouchers he had sent me in support of his cash account—he said "That is all right, my boy, you will find it amongst them"—that was 2nd or 3rd September—I saw him on 5th or 6th September at his office—I asked him if the matter was all in order—he said "That is all right, that is all right"—on 10th September I saw him at the Royal Music Hall—between the 5th or 6th and the 10th I had been to Finch's with a view to remove the furniture, and some communication was there made to me about it—on 10th September I told him I had been informed by Mr. Finch that I could not remove the furniture as he had had a communication from Messrs Hart and Winch informing him that he must not let me take it away—he said "I cannot understand it at all; I have paid them the money; there must be some mistake"—I was satisfied with that statement—on 14th September Mr. Hart called and left a message—I was out—I went to see if the money had been paid; I saw either Mr. Hart or Mr. Winch, Mr. Hart I think, on 17th September, and I then received the first intimation that the money had not been paid—on 18th September the prisoner came to me—I told him I had seen Messrs Hart and Winch and had ascertained that the money had not been paid, and that I had consulted a solicitor with reference to the matter—he knew that already, as he had received a letter from Mr. Abrahams—I said "You had better see my solicitor on the subject"—he said "No, I want to talk to you myself"—he said "I have the money, the 120l., I cannot say the identical twelve 10l.-notes, but twelve others; will you accept them?"I replied "The matter is not in my hands; I have consulted a solicitor, and I can do nothing without his advice, but I will promise to take no step, till 12 o'olock' to-day"—I consulted Mr. Abrahams in the first instance; he introduced me to Mr. St. John Wontner on 18th September, and I put the matter in his hands to act for me—on 19th instant I swore an information at Marylebone Street Police-court, when a summons was applied for and granted returnable on 26th September—the case was adjourned from 26th September for a week and then till 11th October—the first intimation I had of any action having been brought against me with reference to the
120l. was on 11th October at the police-court—the prisoner had never mentioned to me that he had accepted service of a writ, or that there was any application for judgment under Order 14—I was never asked to make any affidavit with reference to the subject, I knew nothing of it—I heard of it when a clerk from Hart and Winch was giving evidence at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I did not myself suffer actually any ill result from the action; I heard of it when it was all over; but the person who called with Mr. Hart's card saw my grandfather, who was very much annoyed—I have not had to pay whatever costs were incurred, the prisoner has paid them—I gave Mr. Abrahams, who is my personal friend, general instructions to do what he pleased—this letter is in his writing—I gave Mr. Abrahams, on 17th September, authority to receive the money on my account—I know the prisoner paid the money before the hearing I don't know exactly when—the first receipt was in the letter of 14th August—I was perfectly willing to accept the first receipt I got—I wrote saying "I am in receipt of your letter enclosing form of receipt; I quite approve of this"—I got the letter of 16th August enclosing another form of receipt—I was perfectly willing to accept that second one; I never wrote and said so—he wrote me a letter—I have no recollection of receiving any letter from him asking me to call—I did not call in consequence of any communication between us—he had seen me pass in a cab before I called—I was at Bond Street every day after I returned, I received no letter there from him—I never answered the letter enclosing the second form of receipt, and said whether I would accept it or not—I said as to the first form, "Please understand clearly that I will not accept anything less than this form of receipt as it stands"—I meant to be emphatic; I meant nothing less; it is my imperfect use of English—I constantly converse in English—when I called on the prisoner on the 2nd or 3rd, and asked for the voucher for the payment of the 120l., it was a casual conversation between us; I had no distinct purpose in asking—I am tolerably perfectly certain as to the actual words—I said before the Magistrate that he said "Oh, that is all right, my boy"—I was tolerably perfectly certain that was what was said then—it was not till afterwards, when my attention was called to it, I said that what he said was " You'll find it amongst them, meaning the vouchers"—I am perfectly certain that was what he aid—I won't swear to the use of the particular words, but I am perfectly certain he used the other words—I think the vouchers were sent earlier than 7th September—I think they were sent after the interview of which I have been speaking—before I left England I asked the prisoner to send me the vouchers, and he said I should find this among them, that in sending the vouchers he had included this among them—having looked at this letter I think you are right in suggesting that the vouchers were sent to me on 7th September—we had another interview on the 10th—I am positive the prisoner said then, "There must be a mistake somewhere; I have paid them the money; I cannot understand it"—I do not pledge myself with absolute certainty—I had received information from Mr. Finch before—I have not got possession of my furniture yet; I have had to pay some claims on it to-day—the 120l. has been paid—I have had to make no payment on the other action—I got the prisoner's bills of costs on 5th September I think—the partially paid cash account and the bill of costs come together to 127l.—that has not been paid yet.
Re-examined. The 127l. will be paid when the account is adjusted that was the bill of costs in my action against Mrs. Wenham—on 17th September, when I gave authority to Mr. Finch to receive the money I knew nothing about an action being brought against me, nor about money being paid into his account and drawn out—when I spoke to the prisoner on 10th September about having paid the money, and he said there must be some mistake, I had ascertained from Finch that there was a stop on the furniture—I spoke to him about that
DAVID PRATT STOCKS . I am a cashier in the Burlington Gardens branch of the Bank of England—Mr. Wertheimer has an account there—on Saturday, 18th August, I cashed this cheque for 120l. payable to and endorsed by Mr. Stoneham, across the counter, with bank notes Nos:96883 for 100l., dated 16th August, 1887, and 38453 for 20l., dated 25th'February, 1888—judging from the position of the entry in the body the cheque was cashed, roughly speaking, about the middle of the day—we close on Saturday at 2 o'clock
THOMAS MUGLESTON . I am a cashier at the Bond Street branch of the City Bank, where the prisoner has an account—on Saturday, 18th August, he paid in a sum of 50l. to his current account and then 70l. to his current account; these are the two slips—one was first payable to his deposit account, but he altered it to current, so that the whole 120l. went to his current account—on the morning of that day he had 5l. 19s. to the credit of his current account, and at the end of the day 60l. 17s. 1d. was standing to the credit of his current account; so that if the 50l. which was first to be paid to the current account had been all, his account would have been overdrawn on that afternoon—there was no deposit account ORMSBY HILL. the, accountant's branch of the Bank of England—I produce two Bank of England notes, one for 100l. No 96883 of 16th August 1887, and the other for 20l—they came in through the City Bank on'20th August.
JOHN HART : I am a member of the firm of Hart and Winch solicitors of Great Winchester Street—we were acting for Mrs. Wenham in this interpleader issue, which was settled on terms, part of the term being that Mr. Wertheimer was to pay 120l—that 120l. was not paid on 18th or 20th August—we in consequence commenced action against Mr. Wertheimer some long time after 18th August—the prisoner accepted service of the Writ on Mr. Wertheimer's behalf and undertook to appear—subsequently we made application at Chambers for judgment under Order 14—no affidavit was made in opposition to our affidavit for judgment—we got judgment, and on that clerk called on Mr. Wertheimer—I believe the following day I saw sir Wertheimer—I afterwards received a subpoena to appear at the police-court in these proceedings—of 24th September the 120l. was paid to me, and included with that in the same cheque was 10l. for our costs in the action; the cheque was for 134l. and was from the prisoner—my clerk called on Mr. Wertheimer for the purpose of serving him with a bankruptcy summons, but did not do so.
GUILTY —Re-commended to mercy— Judgment respited
976. JOHN MURPHY (23) and JOHN BARRETT (26) , together with others unknown, robbery with violence on Hermann Wolter, and stealing three pawn tickets and 11s. 1 1/2 d. from him MR. SYMMONS Prosecuted; MESSRS KEITH FRITH and HUTTON defended
Murphy. HERMANN WOLTER (Interpreted) I am a shoemaker, of 66, Leman Street—on night of 26th September, about a quarter to 7, I was in a public-house at the top of Cable Street; the two prisoners were there—there were five men altogether and some women—I treated them to some pots of beer—they asked me to treat them—I had never seen them before—I was going home and they proposed, to go with me, and I said if they would I would stand another pot of beer at Dunn's public-house in Leman Street—as we were walking up Cable Street, we had nearly arrived at Leman Street, one man gave me a hand and said "Good night," and another man took my other hand and said "Good night," and Murphy put his hand over my mouth, and a fourth rifled my pockets—Barrett held my arm—they all ran away—I called "Thief, thief, my money, my money"—a constable brought Murphy back to me—I gave him in charge—I lost a purse with 11s. 1 1/2 d t a knife, and some lottery tickets, three pawn tickets, and this box, which is a cover for a match box—on 17th or 18th October I saw Barrett under a bridge in Leman Street with a number of others; his back was to me—when he saw me he walked away very fast—I went through a passage which led into Cable Street, round the other way; I there saw a constable and I pointed out Barrett to him and caused him to be arrested.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. It was Murphy who first asked me in the public-house to stand some beer—when we came out one that is not here asked me to stand something—I was not hurt—they did not strike me, but nearly choked me by putting their hands over my mouth—I had no bruises or cuts or wounds of any Kind—two of them held their hands over my mouth and nose; Murphy was one of those.
Cross-examined by Barrett I am quite certain I saw you on 26th September.
HARRY LONG (Policeman H 137) I was on duty in Cable Street, St. George's, on 27th September, about a quarter to 8 p m—I heard the prosecutor shout "Money, money, money"—I saw five men running down Betts Street, which leads out of Cable Street, and I stopped Murphy, who was running at the time—they were going, away from the prosecutor, who was about 80 yards behind them—when I stopped Murphy, he said "Not me, governor, there they go"—I took him back to the prosecutor, who gave him in charge, and I took him to the station—I was told this box was picked up on the spot; it was handed to me—the prosecutor was quite sober.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. The other four men were a little in front of Murphy—he said those were the men—they were all close together—when the Inspector read the charge to him at the station, he said "This is the first time"
Cross-examined by Barrett. I do not recognise you GEORGE NEWLING (Policeman H 162) I arrested Barrett on 17th October—the prosecutor called me and pointed him out at ten minutes to 11 p.m. in Cable Street, outside the Tower of London public-house—two more men were with him—he was lounging up against the public-house with his back to the window—when I took him he said "He has made a
mistake, it is not me"—when the charge was read to him at the station he said "I am innocent of the charge"—Murphy was searched, nothing was found.
Cross-examined by Barrett. There were a lot of people round, and you said "You had better take me to the station and see what is the matter"—you walked there beside me, and independently of me—you asked me to take you to the station.
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate Murphy said: "It is the first time I have done anything, and I hope it will be the last "Barrett said: " I cannot tell the date, but I was in St. Bartholomew's Hospital under an Operation; I would be thankful if you would inquire there I never saw the man in my life "Witness for the Defence of Barrett.
HENRY LEWIS VODDEN . I am night porter in the lodging-house at 12, Well close Square—on September 27th you were suffering from a tumour in the groin, and lying at the lodging-house unable to move out of it—you had poultices made for you as you could not do it yourself—on the 27th you were to attend the hospital again, and could not go; you could not stand or walk at all—you were lying about the room.
By the JURY. I am quite sure about the date—from the 24th right up through the whole of that week he was unable to leave the lodging-house.
Cross-examined. Altogether the prisoner was ill 24 or 25 days from about the early part of September—he was first able to move about the very end of September—on September 23rd my mate in the lodging house had to read a paper at the Bible-class in St. George's Wesleyan Chapel, and on the day following he was ill and I had to get some food ready for him, and he could not take it, and I gave it to Barrett, who was lying in the kitchen unable to move—he was not in bed as they have to get out of their beds in the lodging-house, but he was in the kitchen prostrate on that day; on the following Thursday he had the tumour in his groin cut—I can swear that the whole week up from the 24th the prisoner did not leave the lodging-house to go out—I am deputy; I am off duty some time—as far as I know he was not out any time that week.
Barrett in his defence said his tumour was cut on the 24th at the hospital, and that he was told to go on the 27th, but the wound swelled, and he did not leave the house for three or four days afterwards.
BARRETT— NOT GUILTY .
MURPHY— GUILTY of robbery. — Ten Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 29th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. AUSTIN METCALFE Defended JAMES CHORLTON (Police Sergeant N 21) produced a plan showing the
position of the locality in question.
CHARLES COLE WRIGHT . I am a bank clerk—I live at 19, Canonbury Terrace—on 16th May I was living there with my wife, Frances Maria Wright—she was 71 years of age and was in feeble health, and had been
so fox about three months—she could get about the house—we had no servant—I left home that afternoon about 2, I shut the door after me, leaving my wife alone in the house—I came home about half past 5, and found my wife on a bed upstairs, dead; there was a slight mark over her left eye, it was really very trifling—she had nothing of that kind when I left home—I searched the house but missed nothing—I did not know that my wife carried 17l. about in her pocket—there was nothing the matter with the gas or water fittings, nothing necessary to be done—we had been without a regular servant for nine months or a year, and we used to have a charwoman—the witness Dominey, whom we knew as Mrs. Hooker, worked at the house as far back as February, 1887, she then disappeared for 12 months, and about April or May this year she appeared again—I do not know Amy White, she might have worked in the house without my knowledge, I was out from 1 or 2 till past 5.
Cross-examined. I don't know whether my wife had a character with Dominey, I should not know anything about that—she did not give any reason for her disappearance; she did not say she was going to leave; she had appointed to come again but did not—I never heard the name of White—we had a charwoman two or three times a week—I can scarcely tell you who worked between February, 1887, and May, 1888; it might have been Amy White for all I can say, not being much at home—there was a charwoman named Martha Cheshire, who came in April and May this year, and was working at the time Dominey appeared again.
BARTHE PREVOTAL (Interpreted) I live at Alwyne Villas Canonbury, with Madame Chefderville—I Knew Mrs. Wright by sight simply, living at 19, Canonbury Terrace, almost opposite us—on the afternoon of Wednesday, 16th May, between half-past 2 and 3 I was looking out of my first-floor window; I saw two men go up the steps of Mrs. Wright's house to the street door, one of them gave a knock, the door was opened, and I heard three cries; the door was then ajar; the door was immediately shut again—the men were then inside—as they went up the steps I noticed that one of them carried a bag on his left shoulder—on the door being shut I went down and called Madame Chefderville, and she put on her hat and shawl and went and knocked at Mrs. Wright's door several times, but no answer was given, and she went for a policeman—I then saw the men come out, one was carrying the same bag that he had when he went in—I did not notice the appearance of that man, all I can say is that he wore a long overcoat and a black round hat—he was about 20 to 23 years of age—I was at the door of my house when they came out—the man with the bag went in the direction of the New River, the other went by Alwyne Road sideways to the left—I cannot recognise the prisoner as the man who was carrying the bag—I recognise the bag (produced)
Cross-examined. After the 16th May I made a statement to the police of what I had seen—I always said I could not recognise the person—I am quite sure it was an overcoat that he was wearing; it seemed to me down to the knees
SELINA CHEFDERVILLE (Interpreted) I live with Madame Prevotat, at Alwyne Villas; I knew Mrs. Wright by sight only—on Wednesday afternoon, 16th May, about 2 30, Madame Prevotat came down and spoke to me—in consequence of what she said I put on my bonnet and
shawl and went over to No 16—the door was shut—I knocked Several times—when I first 'knocked I heard footsteps inside—I knocked three times more, there was no answer—I then went into the street to look for a policeman—I Spoke to the lady who lived next door to Mrs. Wright—I saw two men come out from the garden, one had a bag on his back, he went in the direction of the New River, and the other in the direction Alwyne Road, on the left—I ran after the man with the bag till I found a policeman—I lost sight of him at the corner of River Street; there was a policeman there in uniform, I tried to make him understand me; he went with me to Mrs. Wright's house, he went in by the back and I went in by the front door—I found Mrs. Wright lying in the passage—as to one of the men I cannot say anything; as to the other, the man with the bag was about the same kind of appearance as the prisoner, but I cannot affirm that he is the man; as he was running I was not in a position to see his full face, I saw only his profile—he wore a round hat and a long black mantle or overcoat; I Judged his age to be about 23 or 21—I believe this is the bag;
Cross-examined. The prisoner is about the same height and size of the man, but I cannot affirm it; I was within two or three yards of him at one time, while I pursued him—I did not say at the police-court that I felt pretty confident I could pick out the man if I saw him—I said if I had seen the man a short time after the occurrence I could very likely have identified him, but not after such a lapse of time—the next day I was shown seven or eight men standing in a row at the police-station; I picked out one as being about the same height and size of the person, but I did not say that it was his face; I said he bore a great resemblance' as to height and size.
JOHN JONES . I live at 16, Marylebone Lane—I am a driver of licensed vehicles—on a Wednesday afternoon in May I was standing at the corner of Alwyne Road, Canonbury Road, with another man, I did not know his name—I saw a man come down from towards Canonbury Terrace, he went across Canonbury Road and Astey Road and passed me at about three to five yards—Madame Chefderville was following him, he was carrying a bag similar to the one produced—Madame Chefderville called out to me "That man" twice—I asked her what the man had done, she could not tell me; he looked back, saw the lady following him, and started running down Astey Road—I followed him a little Way, just across Canonbury Road,-the lady went on following him—on 20th September I was taken to Upper Street Police-station and was shown about 15 or 16 men, and I picked out the prisoner as being to the best of my belief the man I had seen carrying the bag—I say now to the best of my belief he is the man
Cross-examined. I said before I picked him out that he was very like the man, that is all I can say—I only ran after him for a short distance; I gave up before Madame Chefderville—it was after he had passed me that she called out "That man"
GEORGE WILSON . I am employed at Laycock's Dairy—on Wednesday afternoon, 16th May, I was standing at the corner of Canonbury Terrace; I saw Jones there—I saw a man running for Canonbury Road from Canonbury Terrace, and the French lady behind him; he crossed Canon bury Road and along by the New River; the lady Was halloaing and making motions to stop him, I could not understand what she said—I
did not go after him, I lost sight of him—I saw his face, I was about two yards from him, he was carrying a bag like this—I gave a description of him at the police-station, a day or two afterwards, as near as I could—the prisoner is about the same type of man as near as possible—I could not swear he is the man, if I had seen him a day or two after I might—he had on a dark suit, a cutaway sort of coat, not an overcoat, and a hat something like that (a chummy), a little wider in the brim—I saw the prisoner after he was in custody, with a number of others, I did not pick him out.
Cross-examined. I am quite sure it was not an overcoat that the man had on—12 or 14 men were present when I was taken to see if I could identify him; they stood in a line, I looked well at them all, but did not pick out any.
JOHANNA ROWE . I live with my husband at 23, Astey's Road, Canon bury Road—the river runs in front—on a Wednesday afternoon in May, between 20 minutes and half-past 3, I was standing at my gate, and I saw a man running with a black bag on his shoulder from the direction of Canonbury Road towards River Street—I saw his side face as he ran past me, he was followed by a lot of boys crying "Stop thief"—I saw Madame Chefderville and a gentleman following—I followed to the corner of River Street—he ran down River Street, and dropped the bag between two of Pickford's vans—it was a bag like this—the man then ran across Essex Street, and down Norfolk Street—I saw a man pick up the bag; on September 20th I was called to the police-station, and there saw about 15 or 16 men, amongst them the prisoner—I picked him out as resembling the man with the bag; my belief is that he is the man—he had on a black cut-away coat, and a felt hat with a square crown.
Cross-examined. He was just running past me as the boys were calling "Stop thief"—I picked out the prisoner as being the man most resembling the one who had passed me—to the best of my belief I picked him out as the man that ran past me—I say to the best of my belief he is the man; I could not say positively, I cannot go beyond the best of my belief
Re-examined. The boys were about five or six yards behind him.
ARTHUR AMOS . I am a scaffolder and live at Stratford—on Wednesday afternoon, May 16th, I was at work in River Street—I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—and saw a man running in the roadway carrying this bag, I ran after him about 30 yards, he then threw the bag down between two furniture vans when he saw me running after him; he then ran on and escaped—a man picked up the bag and handed it to me, I gave it to the French lady—she said it was not hers, and I afterwards gave it to Sergeant Somers—on September 20th, I saw the prisoner among a number of others at the station, he is a good deal like the man—the man had on a cut-away coat, and hard felt black hat—he had a slight moustache, side whiskers, and all very dark, to my idea.
Cross-examined. I gave a description at the time—I said that he was wearing strong boots, I called them militia or soldiers' boots, with a patch behind.
Chefderville came up and spoke to me in French—I could not understand her; she made signs, and I followed her to 19, Canonbury Terrace; I knocked at the door, and receiving no reply I went into the next door, No 18 and got in at the back of 19, and in the passage at the foot of the stairs found Mrs. Wright, she was lying partly in a sitting position with her back against the wall, and her arms stretched out—I noticed a mark just below the left eye, I did not feel her; I noticed foam at the mouth—she was fully dressed, her clothes were not disturbed at all—the doors of the rooms were all closed, nothing appeared to have been disturbed, the street door was closed, the chain was down—I sent for the doctor and the Inspector—I did not disturb the body in any way, I left it as I found it till the doctor came.
JAMES GREENWOOD . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 48, Canonbury Square—on Wednesday afternoon, May 16th, I, went to 19, Canonbury Terrace—I got there about 5 minutes past 3—I saw Mrs. Wright dead at the bottom of the stairs; I noticed a bruise over the left eye, not a very severe one—it might have been from a blow or a fall: it was not done with any instrument—there were no other external marks; the body was on its back, she had just died, her clothes were arranged all right—I had her moved upstairs after examination—I was present at the post-mortem—the cause of death was, I should say, the shock, fright must have killed her; she had disease of the heart, the valves were very much diseased—any sudden shock, such as bad news, might have caused her death.
By the COURT. I should say it would take nearly an hour for a body to get sensibly cold—when I examined her the skin was cool, but on keeping my hand there I could feel the warmth under the skin—it would not be cold in 2 or 3 minutes
FREDERICK WILLIAM MITCHELL (Police Inspector N) On Wednesday afternoon, 16th May, about a quarter past 4, I went to 19, Cano n b Terrace; Mrs. Wright was still lying in the passage—I saw a mark just above the left eyebrow—I examined the house carefully—in one, of the rooms upstairs there was a drawer open, but nothing appeared to have been disturbed—I searched the deceased's pockets; she had two pockets under the dress, and in one of them there was 17l. 10s. in gold, it was tied round the waist with a piece of tape, and, the money was carefully pinned in the corner with several pins; in the second pocket there was 12s. 4¾d. and some keys
Cross-examined. I believe I was the first person to see the pocket, containing the gold; all the pins were in it when I saw it, six or eight; it was done up in such a way that until the pins were taken out no one could see the gold; I had to take out all the pins before I could see the gold; it was not in paper—the doctor was there before me.
JAMES GREENWOOD (Re-examined) I thought the mark over the eye was caused by a blow, from the position in which the body was lying; it was on its back, not in a half position—some one said they had turned the body over before I arrived; Sergeant Bream said they had turned it over—the body was lying on its right side, and the blow was on the left—any opinion was formed from the position in which it was originally found.
identified if possible, I think 17 altogether—I did not see them all; there were two I did not see—they all corresponded more or less with the description given—there was a variance between them, and yet a resemblance in some point or other—none of them were taken before the Magistrate, they were released after inquiries, and after the witnesses had.
HENRY BRAND . I am a gas-fitter and smith, of South Moulton Lane—from November, 1886, to June, 1888, I was in the employ of the Eagle Range Co., with the exception of a fortnight—the prisoner was employed there when I went there—I think he left in February this year—he was a labourer, doing unskilled work—he worked with me on two or three jobs—he used a bag for his tools—this is the bag—he has called on me several times lately—the last time was on the evening of Wednesday, 19th September, the day he was arrested—he asked me if I could have some tools of him—I said "I don't know that I want any, what are they?—he said some stocks and dies, turning tools, and a lot of sundry things—I said "What do you want for them?"—he said "I want a pound—I said "I can't come to-day, but I will come to-morrow"—he said "Let it be early in the morning, because of my going looking for work"—I said "Very well let it be till after dinner"—he said "All right," so I made an appointment for between 3 and 4—I did not keep the appointment, but it I had I should not have seen him, for I heard afterwards that he was in custody—whilst he was in the service the tools he used were not similar to those he described; some of the sundries might have been but he did not want turning tools, or stocks and dies.
Cross-examined. I believe they were the remnant of tools that were left him by his father; he told me so at different times—it would not be unusual for a man to sell his tools if leaving a service—he went out at times to do little jobs for himself—what the tools consisted of I could not tell; I knew he had some—I knew his father had worked at Cubitt's, I believe as an engineer
Re-examined. I only know that from hearsay—when the prisoner worked at the Eagle Range I know he had a hammer, chisel, and screw-driver, I don't know what else.
MARY DOMINEY . I am now living at 24, Wynford Road, Barnsbury—I am twenty-one years of age; I pass by the name of Mrs. Hooker—I knew Mrs. Wright, of 19, Canonbury Terrace; I have been there charring off and on for two or three years—I left for a fortnight before, because I was ill—I was last at work there about six weeks before the murder—I used to go every morning—I left to attend to my baby—I knew that Mrs. Wright was in feeble health—she had no servant—I know a girl named Amy White—she never worked there; she has been to the house with me—she went with me the day I went back to ask if Mrs. Wright wanted me again after the baby was better—at that time I was lodging at 7, Payne Street, Barnsbury—Amy lived there as well, Mrs. Parsons was the landlady—I knew the prisoner by seeing him come to the house in payne Street to see the landlady's son—I have seen him with Amy white two or three times—I saw him with Amy at Pentonville after I left working for Mrs. Wright—I heard of Mrs. Wright's death—I saw
the prisoner about a week after that, at the Angel, Islington—he did not say anything to me as to where he had been—I saw him one Saturday night with Amy in Pentonville Road; that was a fortnight before he was apprehended—I had had a few words with Amy White before that but nothing of any importance—on the Saturday night I called out "I will have you locked up for the murder at Mrs. Wright's house"—they made no reply, they walked away—I said that because I had had a few words with Amy White—I said it because I suspected them of it, because I thought it was him—I saw him again on the Monday before he was arrested; that was at the corner of Caledonian Road, King's Cross; he was alone, in the street—I went up to him and spoke to him—I think Sergeant Mackenzie had been to our house in the meantime, making inquiries of me—I told the prisoner that they had been to mother's; house about the murder—I said I did not know what they wanted me for, I did not know nothing about it—he said "They can't touch you"—he told me that he went to Mrs. Wright's house, and he said he struck" her, and when he felt her a few minutes after she was cold; then he said him and the other party ran away; he said he struck her so that he should go over the house—I told him I had seen the News—he said "Did you see the Frenchwoman running behind me? "I said "Yes"—that was in the picture; he said he was very sorry for what he had done; he had no intention of doing it—that was all he said—I told him I would not tell anyone—I think I asked him who the other man was that ran away and left him, but he would not tell me, he did not answer—I think this was about 8 or 9 o'clock on the Monday night, we did not go away together, I left him—on the following Wednesday I met him again at the same place, when he was taken in custody—I had not given information to the police about what he had told me, I did not tell anyone—on 25th September, after he was in custody, Police constable Robinson came to me about half-past 9 at night; from what he said, I went to the police-station in Upper Street, Islington, and' I was detained there all night, in the library; Sergeant Robinson came out with me to fetch my baby, and I returned and was there all night; I had breakfast there in the morning, and then I was taken in a cab to the solicitor's office at Whitehall—I had not said anything to the police during the night—I made a statement at Whitehall, which was taken down; I went there twice, and then went home—Amy White saw Mrs. Wright once when she went there with me, she was standing at the door, she carried the baby for me—she could see what sort of an old lady she was
Cross-examined. She did not go into the house—we were both standing at the door—I knew the house thoroughly; I had been all over every portion of it in the course of my work—I was known as Mrs. Hooker the whole time—I represented myself as a married woman—there is a Mr. Hooker, baby's father, I don't know where he is now, I have not seen him for about 12 months—I may have heard where he is, but I don't know where—I have heard that he is in prison—I don't know that it is on a charge of highway robbery, I know nothing about it—I don't know when the trial came off, or what prison he is in—I have never been charged with any offence—I was not charged with stealing boots; I was along with a young woman, but I was not charged with stealing them—I was not sentenced to three weeks for stealing from a shop; I
was along with the young woman who had the boots—of course I was taken along with her—I did not give evidence against her, I was released—I was at Millbank two days; she got six months—I know nothing about a silk robbery at Marshall and Snelgrove's; Amy White lived in Payne Street before I went there; I have always worked for my living, I am not a prostitute—I don't know where Amy White is—I have not been at work at all lately, not since this affair; I have been allowed a guinea a week from the police, since then I have been doing nothing at all—Sergeant Mackenzie pays me the guinea a week, he brings it to me—I believe Phœbe Field is living under his care—I knew the prisoner before May, I used to speak to him, that's all; I had known him about six months altogether; I first knew him shortly before May—I believe it was a week after the murder that I saw him at the Angel—he had a light coat on then—I knew of Mrs. Wright's death then—I did not stop and speak to him; he was with Amy, I just nodded to him—I did not halloa out to him at the top of my voice—they were close against me; I was very angry with him, I suppose he knew that—I saw him several times after that, in the daytime and in the evening too—he made this statement to me two days before his arrest—Sergeant Robinson came to me on the Wednesday after his arrest and took me to the station—I understood that I could not leave the station; I was not frightened—I thought at first that a charge would be made against me, I was a little frightened—Hooker is the same age as myself, 21, I believe; he is fair, and about a head tallerthan me; ratherstout; he was away in prison at the time of the murder
Re-examined. On 16th May he was in prison; I heard he was in prison—I don't know where, I think it was down the country—I have not seen him at all for a twelvemonth—I have two children; he is the father of both—when I was at the station I did not know where I was going next morning—it was after I had been taken to Whitehall that I knew I was to be a witness—the allowance of a guinea a week began about three weeks ago, after I was examined at the police-court on 12th October—I then gave evidence of what the prisoner had told me—the guinea a week commenced three weeks before that, a week or a fortnight after I went to Whitehall—I attended three times at the police-court before I gave evidence—I have been living now at 24, Wynford Road, for six weeks—before that I lived in Caledonian Crescent.
PHŒRE FIELD . I am 19 years of age—about seven weeks ago I lived in Hamilton Court, King's Cross Road—Mrs. Parsons lived next door—I was living with Alfred Edwards at that time as his wife—one day I went with Mrs. Parsons to a public-house opposite, and on returning to her house I saw the prisoner there; I had not known him before—he said he was so glad he had come back, as he was starving since he had been away, and he had only been living on hop tea—he said he had been away about seven weeks, I believe—he mentioned where he had been, but I forget where it was—he had two parcels with him—one was done up in brown paper, the other was in a blue-spotted handkerchief—the brown one was large enough to hold two coats—he took them away with him—he said he was going home; he did not say where—he came back in the evening, and had tea with Mrs. Parsons and I—after that he went out for a stroll, and then went home to my place, and stayed all night—Edwards was not there that night—the prisoner proposed to me to go and live with him and Mrs. Parsons—I agreed to go and live with him—I sold off the
things I had, and wont and lived with him at Mrs. Parsons', the mother of the one that lived next door—that was in a court off the Caledonian Road—I moved there the day after I first met the prisoner—Edwards found me out there the next day, and he and the prisoner had a row and a fight about my leaving my home—Edwards said he was not going to have me going with men who were stealing and burgling, and breaking into houses—the prisoner said "I have not got her for that at all"—Edwards said "Yes, you have, and I will have her"—the prisoner said he would have me, that he did not have me for stealing, and if he did not have me he would have Edwards, and he said to him "You meet me tonight, and I will have it out with you; I might as well be killed for six or seven as for one"—this disturbance was in the street—I went away with Edwards in a cab, but I returned to the prisoner the same evening, and continued to live with him—after I had been with him three or four days, he said to me one night "I have got something to tell you when I get you upstairs"—he did not tell me that night—when we were in bed he had a dream; he was calling out about his mother—he said he had done the Canonbury murder, and then he said "Never mind, mother, it will soon be all right"—he said that in his sleep—I woke him up—he said 4'I have been dreaming, but I won't tell you to-night; go to sleep; I will tell you to-morrow night"—next night, when we were in bed, he paid "It was me that done the Canonbury murder"—I said "No, never"—he said "Yes, I did, me and Long Bob and the eldest Parsons"—I said "How did you know how to go there?"—he said the girl that worked there told him"—I said "Which girl was it?"—he said "Well, there were two of them that worked there, I won't tell you which one of them it was"—he said with that the three men went down, and a woman with them, he and Long Bob wont in, and the girl and the eldest Parsons stopped outside; he said he went up to the door and knocked at the door about the gas fittings, and with that he said the lady opened the door, and he said to her "Mother, don't scream, and I won't hurt you," and he hit the lady on the side of the head, and she fell down behind the door—she screamed, and he and Long Bob got in, and Long Bob was searching her pockets, and while he was searching her pocket the prisoner said "I have killed her," and Long Bob said she had got 17l. in her pocket, and some silver and copper, but he said "Now you have killed her I can't touch it," and with that they both ran off; he said they did not touch the money, they left it there; they went off, and as they were running he was obliged to drop the bag, as he was so hot through running—he said while he was running the soles of his boots came off, and he was so tired when he got home that he fell down and fainted—he said if the bag was to be found, and they took it to his shop, he would be sure to be found out—I said "What kind of bag is it?"—he said "A red carpet bag"—when he told me this story, I said "No, never"—he said "Yes, and whoever tells of it will be sure to be killed," and if he did not do it his parents would, or anybody that knew him—he said after the event he went away into the country for a day or two—I said "For how long?" and he said "For seven weeks," and during that time he lived on hop tea—he said he came back to London because he did not think he should be known having been away so long—he said he gave his boots to Sam, the youngest Parsons—when I was living with the prisoner at Mrs. Parsons, I saw the girl Dominey—I am now living with
Sergeant Mackenzie; I was living with the prisoner at old Mrs. Parsons' in the Caledonian Road when I saw Dominey—she came to see Mrs. Parsons—there was a quarrel there between me and Dominey—the prisoner took Dominey's part in it—this was about two days after he had told me this story—he said he took Dominey's part because she knew something about him—that was upstairs after the quarrel—I lived with the prisoner eight days altogether—two days before I left him he brought two parcels from his mother's, containing two coats, two pairs of trousers, and a black waistcoat (two coats produced)—he said he would not wear the black coat any more, as he should be known doing the murder in it—this is the coat he referred to, the other is a brown coat—he said there was a stain on the black coat—I said "What stain, is it blood?"—he said "No, it is where I have tried some gold to it"—he told me to go and pawn both the coats outside King's Cross, which I did for 3s., and gave him the money—he said the waistcoat was the one he done the murder in, and I could give that to Sam Parsons, as they would not take it in pawn—the two pairs of trousers were also given to Parsons—I left the prisoner two days after that, and went back to Edwards, at 17, Percival Street—I used to see the prisoner after that at night, we were on very good terms—the last time I saw him before he was locked up was on a Saturday—he told me then that be believed there were detectives following him—before that on Monday, 27th August, Edwards hit me between 3 and 4 o'clock in the morning in the street—I was living with him then—there was a quarrel between Edwards and the prisoner—I complained to the police, I went to the station and made a statement about what the prisoner had told me—the prisoner was not present when Edwards assaulted me, he had gone—Edwards assaulted me because he thought I had been with the prisoner—I told the police to take Edwards in charge for giving me a blow, but he could not be found, at the same time I told them about the prisoner—I don't know the name of the policeman I told (Maroney called in)—that was one of the men I saw, he was not the one I told; he was not present at the time; he was up at the Court when I was telling them—that is the man I told (Walsh).
Cross-examined. I gave exactly the same account to the policemen that I have given to-day; I don't think I told them quite so much, what I did tell them was the same—Edwards did not assault me because I was talking to the prisoner, he never saw him that night; but he thought I had been with him and he told me not to do so—Edwards is a diamond setter by trade, but now he is out of that and doing brokering—it is about three years and a half since he did diamond setting—he does brokering for Davis and Tilley, he has done many brokering jobs in the last 18 months, I can't tell you how many, he had three days' work right off the last time I saw him, when I picked up with the prisoner—I am living now with Sergeant Mackenzie; not as a servant, I have been taken there because I am frightened of my life, I have been there a month, I went there about a week after I gave information to the police—I did not tell the police that the man who accompanied the prisoner was Long Jack, I said "Long Bob"—I said they were the men that murdered Mrs. Wright—I did not say that three went up to the house, I said two, the prisoner and Long Bob; I did not say that Long Jack knocked at the door and that he requested Mrs. Wright to keep
quiet; I said Glennie told her to keep quiet and he would not hurt her—I did not say that Long Jack struck her on the temple, which felled her to the ground, and that they then ransacked the house and took away 17l. in gold and a few coppers—I did not say "The carpet bag, afterwards found, belonged to Glennie and was used by him when he worked at the trade, "I only gave a description of Glennie—I say that what you have been reading to me is wrong, but I must say the night I told the policeman, I was the worse for drink and had a black eye; I know I did not say what you have got there, because I did not know Long Bob or anybody else, only Glennie—Edwards had repeatedly assaulted me, Glennie never had—when I knew Glennie, I knew Dominey, not before—I lived next door to Mrs. Parsons for a month; before that I was living in Ormond's Buildings—Edwards supported me when he had work, when he had not I went to work myself—I did not go out on the streets, I went out on the streets when I had not work at the laundry, it was very seldom, I did both, when I did not get work at the laundry I did the other—I don't know where Edwards is now, per haps he is doing brokering work, I have not seen him for a month and don't want to—it is about seven weeks ago that I first saw Glennie—it must be longer than that, because he has been in prison since that; I can't remember when it was, I don't keep up the months at all, I let them go—the first time I saw him was at Mrs. Parsons', when he told me all about doing the murder—I had been living with Edwards three and a half years straight off before that; the first day I saw Glennie I determined to throw up Edwards and go and live with Glennie, I separated from; him eight days afterwards, without quarrel; he did not leave me—he could not keep me any longer; I went to live with him on the understanding that he would keep me—there is no doubt that he said this black coat was the one in which he committed the murder.
Re-examined, I gave the prisoner's name to the policeman as Glenmon—I can't read—I said Glennie I believe, that is the only name I always call him.
MICHAEL WALSH (Police Sergeant 0) About 3 in the morning of 27th August, I was acting inspector at Old Street Station—I had been patrolling the neighbourhood—I saw Phœbe Field—she complained to me about an assault—she afterwards came to the station—I did not know her before—she was sober; I should say she had been drinking, but she appeared perfectly sober—she gave me some account of the Canonbury murder—I had a clear recollection of all the circumstances of the case—I did not take her statement down at the time, she objected to have it taken down—she said she was in fear of having her life taken by the prisoner and his companions—I sent for Maroney, the officer in the case—he came in about a half or three-quarters of an hour, and she then made a statement in his presence—she varied a little in her statement to him from what she told me—I told Inspector Day bell from memory what she had told me, at 6 in the morning, and he wrote it down—up to that time I knew nothing of the prisoner—I have read this statement through; it is correct (Read: "She stated that during the past week she has cohabited with Henry Glimmon, a plumber, at Charlotte Square, King's Cross, number unknown, who has informed her that he (Glimmon), accompanied by Charles Parsons, painter, of No. 1, Hamilton Place, King's Cross Road, the latter of whom has since been
sentenced to five years' penal servitude for a watch robbery, were the men who murdered Mrs. Wright at Canonbury, which was committed in the following manner: all three went up to the house Long Jack knocked at the door, which, on being opened, they all went in, and that Long Jack requested Mrs. Wright to keep quiet She immediately screamed, upon which he (Long Jack) struck her on the temple with his fist, which felled her to the ground dead They then ransacked the house, and took away 17l. in gold and a few coppers, A carpet bag afterwards found belonged to Glimmon, and was used by him when he worked at his trade ")
GEORGE TABLING . I am assistant to Robert Masters, a pawnbroker, 315, Gray's Inn Road—I have produced the two coats; they were pledged with me on 30th July by the last witness in the name of Ann Edwards—our shop is opposite the Metropolitan Underground Railway, King's Cross.
STEPHEN MARONEY (Detective Sergeant G) I was sent for to the police-station early in the morning of 27th August—I saw Walsh there and Phœbe Field—she made a statement to me; I did not take it down—I listened to what she said, and availed myself of the information—that was the first time I had heard about who the bag belonged to—it was not traced till the prisoner was arrested, which was on 19th September at a quarter to 10 at night—he was standing in the Caledonian Road, King's Cross—I put him into a four-wheeled cab before I spoke to him—I then said "We are police officers, and arrest you on suspicion of being concerned in breaking into some premises last night at Islington and stealing a quantity of satin; also on suspicion of being concerned in the Canonbury murder"—he said "I shan't say anything; I can prove what I am and what I do"—I took him to Upper Street Station, and he was there detained—he gave his name as Henry Glennie, but refused his address—he said he was a hot-water fitter by trade—it turned out that he had nothing to do with the burglary—on the morning of the 20th, about a quarter to 11, I saw him with Inspector Glass—I said "This is Inspector Glass; he has directed me to ask you if you can refer me to any person who can prove where you where when Mrs. Wright was murdered at 19, Canonbury Terrace; I may tell you that it was about 10 minutes past 3 on Wednesday afternoon, 16th May last"—he said "Well, I can't say where I was, but I think I was with my sister Mrs. Swallow, a confectioner's shop, No 2, Kingsbury Road, Neasden"—Neasden is about half an hour's ride from London—he said "I think I was there about 14 weeks; my friends can tell you where I was better than I can"—later on that night, about a quarter-past 10, I saw the prisoner again—I had then the bag with me—I showed it to him, and said "I have obtained information that this bag belongs to you"—he took it in his hand and examined it—I may say at that time he became very pale and agitated—I said "I have shown that bag to George Mack, of 14, Storey Street, Caledonian Road, and Thomas Crook, of 26, Freeling Street, and they both say you had a bag like that, and that it belongs to you"—after a short time he said "Well, I admit it is my bag, or rather, it was mine; I sold it with some tools to a man in the Star and Garter public-house, Caledonian Road; I don't know who he is, or how much I sold them for; I can't tell you any more"—there is a public-house called the Star and Garter in the Caledonian Road—on
the morning of the 21st, about a quarter to 11, I again saw the prisoner—I then asked him if he could give me any further information, or any description of the man he bold the bag and tools to—he said "No, I can't; I sold them on the Friday after I left the Eagle Range Foundry Company at the Star and Garter public-house, Caledonian Road"—on that day he was taken before the Magistrate at Clerkenwell Police-court, and remanded for a week—on the next occasion evidence was given, and he was then remanded for another week—in the meantime the women had been taken to the solicitor's office, and their statements taken, and the witnesses had seen the prisoner to see if he could be identified.
Cross-examined. I am reading from a book which contains what took place, written down carefully at the time—when I went to him with the bag he had not been charged, he was not charged till some time after that, not till the next day—he was formally charged by the inspector but not placed on the charge-sheet—I thought it was only fair to him to tell him what information I had got—Inspector Glass cautioned him—I have no note of that—I saw Phœbe Field at the station—she made part of the statement in my presence, not the whole—I remetnber hearing her say that Harry Glennie told her he was the man that struck the woman at the side of the head—I took no note of the statement, she gave it to Sergeant Walsh, he was in charge of the station at the time.
Re-examined. I remember Inspector Glass told him he would be charged with murder, and he advised him to be careful what he said, not to hurry—he also said "Any information you can give as to where you were at the time, or any evidence in your favour," and I also said " We will do our best to produce it at the proper time and place"
By MR. METCALFE. I went down to Neasden and made inquiries—I only went to one place, to his sister's—I did not know till to-day that inspector Wheatley had made inquiries.
THOMAS GLASS (Police Inspector) On 16th May I first had anything to do with this case—shortly after 27th August I heard of the information given by Phœbe Field and afterwards of the prisoner's arrest—I went and saw him with Maroney, I cautioned him each time the questions were put—I told him he need not make any statement whatever Unless he pleased, but that anything he said would be noted by me and taken down, and might be given in evidence against him—I have been in Court and heard what Maroney has said, he has given an accurate account of what took place—I was present when that took place about the bag—he was cautioned again—the witness Dominey was taken to the station on the night of 23rd September, I was not there then, but I received a telegram, and it was by my direction that she was detained there that night, so that she might go to the Treasury next morning and give her evidence.
Cross-examined. I had been doing my very best from May till September to find out the persons who had committed this offence—when I had the prisoner in custody I did not say to him "I have got your pal," I swear that—I did not say "He is going to split, I will give you half an hour," nothing of the kind—I did not represent to him in anyway that I had got somebody else who was going to tell—I pay Dominey a guinea a week—it comes from the Treasury—I advance it out of my own pocket, but I send my bill to the Treasury—I have got leave of the Treasury to give
her that; I can give you the reason why she is having it—I do not think a guinea a week is too much to give to a witness of that kind The following witnesses were called for the defence MARY ANN SWALLOW. I am the widow of a man who was employed on the Metropolitan Railway—since his death I have settled at Neasden, and carry on a baker's business there—the prisoner is my brother—I remember his coming down to me in the early part of the year; it was on the Tuesday before Whitsuntide, the 15th—he came to me on account of a very serious quarrel between himself and my brother William—I believe it was something about a young woman; I don't know the details—he stayed with me; I could not say to the exact day in July—I think it was towards the end; at any rate, it was after the 20th; I could not tell what day—he was there all day on the 15th May—he never went out at all on the 16th—he was not very well, and he sent to town for one or two little things, by way of medicine, and he did not go out till the 17th, when he went after a situation—I believe he had had pleurisy on one occasion, and I fancy it was a little return of that—he sent John Chandler for the medicine; he brought it back; he went specially for it—I never went out during the Whitsun week; it was my busy time; I am very busy on the three Bank Holidays—he assisted me in the shop—he had to wait till Bank Holiday evening, when he went out—he lived with me over two years—when I first went to Neasden he worked on the Metropolitan—he has always come to me on the holidays—he was coming on the Saturday to stay with me over Whitsun, because I am always alone there—he went up to town occasionally, but always came back at night—he was looking for employment while with me, so he was out almost every day, with the exception of Whitsun week—he did not go out in Whitsun week except to one place; that was on the Thursday.
Cross-examined. I knew that he was coming to me on the Saturday—he did not write to me, but I knew he was coming—I saw him the previous week—I expected him on the Saturday after the Tuesday; he came unexpectedly on the Tuesday—he was not with me on the previous Saturday—he came some time between 12 and 2 on the Tuesday—it takes about a quarter of an hour to walk from Neasden Station—my household consists of myself and three children—the eldest is nine—I have no servant or shopman—I heard of the prisoner's arrest on the Saturday following—up to that time I had not the smallest notion that he was suspected of the Canonbury murder—I fix on Tuesday, the 15th, because I can be very certain on account of it being in the Whitsun week—a detective first asked me about the day of my brother coming to Neasden; that was on the Saturday after he was in custody—I know it was on the Tuesday he came—I know it by several things—I was getting into my shop the day he came—before he came to me he was living with my mother at 53, Charlotte Street, Caledonian Road—he was very poorly when he came to me; he seemed very upset; he was never very well long together—he did not tell me what was the matter with him—there is no chemist at Neasden—there are only two shops there—I cannot tell you the date when I had seen him before the Tuesday; it was a very short time—I go home as a rule once in three weeks, and I always see him when I go home—he did not do anything except just a little work for me, taking out bread—I don't know what hop tea is—I sell all kind of materials, which he partook of.
Re-examined. I should not describe him as half-starved; we are not quite so poor as that—I had a young lady staying with me, Miss Chandler; I was doing some work for her.
MARY CHANDLER . I am a dressmaker—I know Mrs. Swallow—she assisted me in the dressmaking at her house on the Monday morning before Whitsun—I went there every day until the Saturday; the prisoner came there on the Tuesday—I had seen him several times before that—I was there the whole of Wednesday—I saw the prisoner about dinnertime, from 12 to 2, when the children came out of school, we sometimes dined together.
Cross-examined. I was not living at Mrs. Swallow's—I was making a dress for the Whitsun holiday, and she would assist me if I came in—I saw the prisoner the week before Whitsun—I did not go there after the Saturday, I knew he was living there—he seemed all right when he came on the Wednesday—I know the time by the making of the dress for Whitsuntide.
JOHN CHANDLER . I live at Neasden—I occasionally assist Mrs. Swallow in her business—I know the prisoner—I saw him there on Tuesday the 15th—I remember it by going to town on the Wednesday to get him, several little things that he required—I got a box of pills and some poppy heads from a chemist's shop in Lisson Street, Lisson Grove—I went to town specially for it—I am certain of the day—I started some where about 12 o'clock, and got back about 4 o'clock, and gave him what I had brought
Cross-examined. I can't tell you what was the matter with him—I has no reason for remembering this particular day, I trusted to my memory—I was first asked about this by Mr. Norris, the prisoner's solicitor—he came and spoke to me, I can't say the day—the prisoner gave me 1s. 6d., to get the pills I was to get Beecham's pills—I was not paid anything for going—he was up and about—he did not tell me why he did not go himself—I was out of work at the time—he asked me to go, and I went
Re-examined. My father is connected with the railway, and I came up for next to nothing.
ROBERT DOWNES . I am a butcher at Willesden, which is about a mile and a half from Neasden—I go to Mrs. Swallow's for orders on Tuesday and Thursday—I went there as usual on the Tuesday and Thursday in Whitsun week—on the Tuesday I called between 1 and 2 o'clock—I saw Mrs. Swallow, the prisoner, and John Chandler—I was introduced to the prisoner on that day—on the Thursday I called again and saw him.
Cross-examined. My attention was not called to this until after the prisoner was in custody—I trust to my books for the dates
WILLIAM GLENNIE . I am the prisoner's eldest brother—I am, an engineer in employment—on the night of 14th May I had a quarrel with him—he was then living at home, and I also—he went down to Neasden after that, I believe, in consequence of our quarrel—I saw him again three or four weeks afterwards in London, and went for a walk with.
Cross-examined. I could not fix the time when he came back—it was a day or two after the quarrel that I was told he had gone to his sister's—until he was in custody I had no idea that there was any suspicion against him about this murder—the Sunday after the quarrel was his
brother-in-law's birthday, and the following week was Whitsun—I do not know Mrs. Parsons or Phœbe Field—my brother lived at home after he came back—he has been out of work ever since.
WILLIAM HOWARD . I am the prisoner's brother-in-law—I know this black coat, it was mine, I gave it to the prisoner about the end of June—I am positive it was not in May—I wore it myself up to the middle of June.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 29th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Defended DAVID FRANCIS (Detective Sergeant Thames) On 7th September, about a quarter to 9 a m., I was with Constable Bond watching outside New Crane Wharf, Messrs Couzens' bonded warehouse, of which the prisoner is manager—I saw two vans fully loaded with bags leave—I followed them to Mr. Dix's, 15, Assembly Passage, Mile End, where I stopped, their being discharged, and they were taken to Wapping Police Station, and the goods detained—I went to New Crane Wharf about 3.30, and saw the prisoner leaving—I shouted to stop him, but was not successful—when he got into the road he turned round and said "Do you wish to see me?"—I said "Inspector Read wishes to see you"—he said "Is it about those sweepings?"—I said "It is about those goods you sold to Mr. Dix "I asked if he had any authority from the Customs to sell coffee, or coffee sweepings (which I thought was required)—he said "I did not know any coffee had gone, I have sold this on behalf of the firm; I am allowed to sign for the firm, if you go to the City office with me you will find that everything is entered quite correctly: I have not paid the money into the office; it is a question whether the money should be paid there or here"—I said "It is no use entering into any conversation, Inspector Read wishes to see you"—we went to the City office, 150, Fenchurch Street—Mr. Priester, the manager, was present, and after some conversation I went with them to Wapping Police Station, where the 72 bags were shown to us, weighing about 2 tons 14 cwt., and containing pepper, tobacco, gutta-percha, and other articles, and 4 bags of coffee sweepings—the prisoner said he was not aware that any coffee sweepings had gone out.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner at the time of the loading—I saw Handley at the loop hole—I have known him about eight years as general foreman—six of the men were receiving the goods and throwing them in—I did not see Mr. Morris there—when I returned to the wharf with Inspector Read I inquired for Mr. Ker—I did not charge him with stealing the goods.
GEORGE READ (Police Inspector) On 7th September, between 3 and 4 p m., I saw the prisoner at the city office—Mr. Priester is the head manager there, and the prisoner was manager at the wharf—I said to the prisoner "I am an Inspector of Police, and I have detained two
van loads of colonial produce which you sold to Mr. Dix, of Assembly Passage, in the name of E H Couzens; by whose authority have you sold those goods?"—he said "By the foreman's authority"—Mr. Priester said "That is quite right"—before that I said "Have you Mr. Sneat's authority to sell, or Mr. Priester's?" he again said "I have the authority of the firm"—I asked who he referred to, and Mr. Priester said he had authority to sell sweepings—I said "What about the coffee; have you the authority of the Customs to remove it, or have you advised them of its removal?"—he said that he did not know there was any coffee, but there was about 3 cwt—I said "You and Mr. Priester had better accompany me to Wapping Station and see the goods"—we did so, and when he saw the coffee he still said that he did not know there was any—they had a discussion as to the other goods, and he was charged with stealing them—he said "Am I charged individually?"—I said "Yes, for the present"—he was taken before Mr. Lushington, on Saturday, September 8, and admitted to bail the same day.
Cross-examined. There was more conversation; he said "I sold it for the firm"
GEORGE DIX . I am a colonial and dry salt merchant, of 9, Mincing Lane—on 4th September I received an invoice for sweepings of which I had received samples on the 1st and 2nd; I made an offer for them; it was accepted, and I paid the prisoner this cheque on the 4th (for 46l. 0s. 10d. on the City Bank, Aldgate Branch)—the invoice relates to 139 bags of stuff, 63 of which are vouched as mixed—they are sweepings of all sorts of colonial produce and all sorts of rubbish and sweepings from the floor—there could not help being some coffee, but very little—the prisoner receipted the invoice "H Couzens and Co"—on 7th September I sent this delivery order (produced) to the superintendent of New Crane wharf, and went to Assembly Passage and saw the things, which had been seized by the police; I had not seen them before.
Cross-examined. The "mixed" goods are worth 2s. 6d. a cwt—large accumulations of stuff are lying about on the wharf, which it is usual to sell, sometimes in nine and sometimes in twelve months—this is a very large wharf—the prisoner handed me a document showing the quantities they were to sell, and I got samples of all except the dirty sweepings, and I examined them and fixed the prices at which I would buy them, which I returned on paper, and was told that the prices were accepted—I never heard anything about coffee or intended to buy any—I have been in business 25 years.
Re-examined I saw these bags at my premises on the 7th; three small coffee-bags were opened, but I did not look into them—I was never shown a bag of coffee.
HERMAN PRIESTER . I am shipping manager to Mr. H Couzens, pro prietor of New Crane Wharf, of 150 Fenchurch Street—the prisoner was manager at the wharf—I am general manager, and am principally at Fenchurch Street—it was the prisoner's duty to pay any money he received at the wharf immediately to the cashier, if they wanted it for the wharf, not to leave the wharf to go to the City to pay it in, but the first time he could conveniently come to the City—there was no arrange ment, but that has been the practice some eight years—he was paid by yearly salary—he had no right, to my knowledge, to pay money he received for the firm to his own private banking account—I do not
remember seeing him at my office from September 4th to the 7th, and I do not suppose he called—Mincing Lane is close to my office—on 7th September I went with Inspector Read, Sergeant Trowers, and the prisoner to Wapping Police-station, and saw a quantity of goods in bags—I asked about some gutta-percha and India-rubber in large pieces, and said to the prisoner "What is this?" and, not receiving a satisfactory answer I said I should make inquiry—I saw the prisoner when he was out on bail a fortnight or three weeks after the prosecution commenced, and asked him if he had received the money, and why he did not account for it; he said that he meant to account for it on the Friday on delivery—he did not tell me where he had kept it—he may have said that he had it at the wharf.
Cross-examined. I have been nine years in the firm, which is Mr. Thomas Gooch and Mr. E H Couzens—sales have taken place regularly twice a year under the prisoner's instructions during the eight years he has been there—I knew that he was thinking of ordering such a sale in September, about a week before it took place—this is written in Baker's writing, a clerk on the wharf who has been there 14 or 15 years—during the whole time the prisoner has been manager I have had no complaint to make of the management of the wharf, or of the discharge of his duty—neither of his employers has charged him with embezzling this money or any part of it, and he is still in the service of the firm—but after his committal we suggested to him not to go to the wharf—the firm have not complained of his conduct—he could not by any possibility conceal the sale from me; I should have inquired about it and the proceeds—and if he did not tell me, there were servants from whom I could have got the information—the cheque is payable to New Crane Wharf or bearer—the goods were delivered on Friday—if he thought fit to get the money before the goods were delivered, he would not have done anything wrong in cashing the cheque before the goods went out—Mr. Rayson was cashier in my employ—he would be the person whom the prisoner should see respecting the paying any money in to the city office—the wages are paid at the wharf by the wharf cashier on Fridays, and I generally send the money down from the City office on Fridays—it was left to the prisoner's discretion whether he should pay into the wharf or to the City office—he had let his house in London, and was living at East bourne, and would not be at the wharf till 11 a m., and he was bound to leave at a quarter past 4, to catch the 5 o'clock train.
Re-examined. The people at the wharf had to obey his orders—he had complete control of them all; I went there once a week unexpectedly to see what was going on—I did not know to whom these goods were sold or the quantity sold—there were two sales yearly—salaries are paid on Fridays only, but there are day and half-day labourers, and money was required at the wharf to carry on the business.
By the JURY. The prisoner had authority to sign "E H Couzens and Co" not by procuration, but the full name—the other partner was aware that the prisoner was still in the firm's employ—these sales were by private tender.
WINARD TRIMNELL . I am a cashier at the Aldgate Branch of the City Bank—Mr. Dix has an account there; I cashed this cheque, but do not remember to whom—I gave nine 5l. notes, 92097 to 92100, and 68901 to
68905, and a sovereign and tenpence—it was about 10 o'clock—a person going from Mincing Lane to Aldgate would pass up Fenchurch Street.
ORMSBY HILL . I am a clerk in the Bank of England, I produce three notes, 92098 to 92100, and five notes, 60901 to 60905—92098 was paid in from the Customs on September 10th, it bears no endorsement—92099 was paid in on September 7th by the Imperial Bank—it is stamped at their South Kensington Branch, and is endorsed "Ker"—the initial has been torn off—92100 was paid in on September 6th by the London and Westminster Bank, not endorsed, and 68091 on the same day, by the City Bank, endorsed "H Ker, 27, Devonshire Place, Eastbourne" that bears the stamp of the Eastcheap Post-office—the other notes were all paid in on the 5th by the London and South Western Bank—60902 is endorsed "H T G Ker"
THOMAS SAUNDERS . I am paying cashier at the London and West minster Bank, Lothbury—the prisoner has an account there, I produce a certified copy of it from July 1st to October 26th—on September 4th 21l. was paid into his account—I produce the credit slip; there were four 5l. notes, 60902 to 60905, and on September 5th a 5l. note 92100 was paid in.
ALICE ANN BONNES . I am clerk in charge of the Eastcheap Post-office—early in September a 5l. note was brought to me to change—I cannot say who by, it is stamped September 4th-whoever presented it endorsed it at my request "H Ker, Devonshire Place Eastbourne"—it was about 2 30 or 2 45; I sent it on to the City Bank
Cross-examined. I have seen him every day for over 12 months—he passes from the Monument Station to Wapping to go to the wharf; I know him perfectly well.
JOHN BAKER . I am cashier at New Crane Wharf—it has been the prisoner's practice for eight years to hand over cash to me—I receive through he window all the cash for the wharf charges—I never remember an instance in which he has paid in money—he paid me no money between September 4th and 10th—I keep the cash-books and the cargo ledger—I do not keep a record of the sweepings sales, but I have a rough copy of the last one—I have no entry of any sale to Mr. Dix prior to September 7th; none has been made in the books—these papers were handed to me on September 3rd.
Cross-examined. We do not sell merchandise at the wharf—the only books I have are my cash-book and cargo list—since I have been there the sales of sweepings have not been entered in any book-this invoice is in my writing; I got the details from the prisoner—I had a list in Morris, the sample's writing, on which are the prices in Mr. Ker's writing—this is the paper and here is another—a portion of this, "Paper, about 3 cwt., tapioca, 5 cwt.," is in Morris's writing, and those are the estimated weights—that was brought to me with the prices put on in the prisoner's writing, and I got the amounts from another slip, which the prisoner gave me in Handley's writing—I never saw the prisoner packing prisoner gave me in Handley's writing—I never saw the prisoner packing up goods or weighing them—I made the invoice out from these two papers, which I have kept ever since—I could have told my employers the amounts entered, the quantity of goods sent to Mr. Dix, and the prices
—the goods I received at the wharf are all wharf charges—sometimes I get money sent down on Friday to pay the men with if I need it—as a rule it is sent—I do not remember the prisoner paying anything to me since the fire in 1884.
Re-examined. It would not be my duty or any one else's to enter the contents of this document in any book at the wharf, as the accounts of this matter have been carried to the City office—I should receive the order from the prisoner to make any entry of this, but I have received no such order—there is no book in which I could make the entry—I should have to make a rough book—the cargo ledger would not show the goods in these two documents—a gatekeeper's receipt book is the only book in which I should find entries of sweepings sales at the wharf—there is no record in it of the sale of these things on September 7th—this is the book, and there is no entry in it of the delivery of the 7th—we are all under the prisoner's orders; he would give instructions—these two signatures are his.
By the COURT. They learn the particulars at the City office from the prisoner—the gatekeeper's book would contain an account of the goods, and the invoice would contain the prices at which they are sold—the City office would get those documents if they applied for them—if Mr. Priester asked me I could give him the dates—I have a rough copy of the invoice filed or in one of the drawers.
ALFRED RAYSON . I am cashier to Couzens and Co., of New Crane Wharf—a complete set of books is kept at the City offices—I keep the cash-book—there is a cargo ledger—the ledgers are kept by accountants, who are called in once a month—a debt-book is kept at the wharf, and it comes up once a month—that contains the names of the firms who have goods warehoused at the wharf, and the charge for warehousing—there is no book in which the sweepings are entered—the prisoner only paid me money in relation to sweepings; the last time prior to September 4th was July 2nd, and the time before that was December, 1887—there is no entry in the books of this sale on September 4th or 7th—the first entry is September 10th, when he brought me 46l. 0s. 10d. in gold, and handed it to me as the proceeds of this sale.
Cross-examined. I was not under the prisoner's control in the discharge of my duty in the City office—I was in the outer office, and overheard his conversation with Mr. Priester, with reference to the sale of sweepings—a week before that I heard him tell Mr. Priester that he was arranging to sell some sweepings—that has gone on more or less during the seven years I have been there, and he has brought the money received for sweepings to the City office, and I entered it—before he was arrested I did not know that the sale had taken place—I asked him on the 6th whether he was going to give the money for the sweepings to Baker, or whether I should send down money the following day, Friday, for the wages—he said "I will let you know what I will do," and on Friday at 10 30 he came to the office and said "You had better send money for wages to the wharf to-day, and I will give you the money for the sweepings to-morrow morning," but he was arrested that afternoon—he was before the Magistrate on Saturday—he was let out on bail and brought me the money on Monday.
(Re-examined) I will pledge my oath that the conversation on Friday was before 11 a m., I should say it was at 10 30.
MR. WILLIS submitted that there was no evidence to, go to the Jury that the prisoner intended to convert the money to his own use, the mere temporary cashing of the cheque was no evidence that he intended to deprive him master of it. MR. MATHEWS contended that as the prisoner placed 21l to his own account, and used 25l. for himself, it was for the Jury to say what his intention was THE RECORDER considered that there was no case to go to the Jury; if the prisoner stole the goods he did not receive the money on account of his master, neither had he embezzled the money, as he had not concealed the receipt of it, and there was not a trace of a false entry, or a tittle of evidence that he intended to steal the money
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PIGGOT Prosecuted JOHN EDWARDS. I am a tailor, of 25, New Peter Street, Westminster—on Saturday, 13th October, about 11 45 p m., I saw the prisoner in Horseferry Road—he asked me if I would oblige him with a lucifer, and while feeling for one my feet were kicked from under me, and I fell on my back; the prisoner put his hands on my mouth and nostrils, another man held my feet, and two others rifled my pockets—I partially lost my senses, and felt such injury that I had to be lifted from the ground—I called "Police," and a gentleman ran after them down Medway Street—there were three besides the prisoner—I missed 2s. from my trousers pocket—I had other property and money which, they did not get—I did not know the prisoner before, but I am sure of him.
CHARLES HENRY TRING . I am a banker's clerk—on 13th October, about 11 40, I saw Edwards in Horseferry Road, lying on the ground, and two men standing over him, one at his head and one at his feet—I went close up to them, and stood over him, and said "What is all this about?"—they immediately made off—I pursued the one nearest to me, the prisoner, for about 200 yards without losing sight of him, caught him, and handed him to a policeman.
JOSEPH SIMMONDS (Policeman A 741) I saw the prisoner running down Holland Street, closely pursued by Mr. Tring—I stopped him, and Mr. Tring said that a man had been knocked down in Horseferry Road—I took the prisoner there, and Edwards identified him—on taking him to the station I was surrounded by 20 roughs, and kicked on my back, and the prisoner escaped for a few minutes and ran into a cottage—a plain-clothes constable assisted me to take him, and we took him to the station—I found no money on him—he made no reply to the charge.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not touch the old man at all
GUILTY . †— Nine Months' Hard Labour
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
EDWARD BAGLEY (Policeman H 116) On 16th October, about 2 30 a m., I was in Mary Street, Whitechapel, and saw the prisoner standing at Mr. Joseph's window and heard a smash—I went towards him—I was in the dark and he could not see me—he came towards me, and when he saw me he turned back and went nearly to the shop, and then turned and faced me—I said "What are you doing at that window?"—he said "It was not me; I am going to work; it was two boys"—there was not another soul there.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I swear I saw you break the window; you did not get away from me 200 yards.
ALFRED JOSEPH . I am a tailor, of 75, Mary Street, Whitechapel—on 15th October I went to bed, leaving everything safe—I was aroused by the police about 3 a m., and found the shop window smashed and this brick in the window—two globes were also smashed, and one bracket was thrown on to the other.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not do it; two boys did it.
GUILTY* MR. PARTRIDGE stated that the prisoner had been in Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum.— Two Months' Hard Labour.
JOHN DALE I live at 33, Coronet Street, Shoreditch—on 16th October at midnight I was in the City Road, and the female prisoner spoke to me—I told her I would have nothing to do with her, I had a wife at home very ill—the male prisoner then came up and struck me, and gave me a black eye and knocked me down, and while I was on my back he pulled my chain and broke a button off my waistcoat, but did not get my chain—I called "Police!" and they came directly and took the prisoners.
CHARLES WILLCOX (Policeman G 352) On 16th October I saw the female prisoner following Dale, and when near the Star public-house the male prisoner came out of a doorway, and struck Dale on his face and knocked him down and laid on top of him full length—he called "Police!" and I and Murphy ran up and pulled him off—I never let go of him—I heard Dale's chain rattle—Murphy took the female prisoner, who was stooping over the two—the male prisoner owned to striking him at the station, and the woman said "I tried to do him, you dirty b——dog"
Joseph Searle's Defence. I went up to the prosecutor and asked what he had struck this woman for; he struck me, and we fell into the road Rose Searle's Defence. He asked me for 2d.
JOSEPH— GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ROSE— GUILTY *— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 29th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. BUCK Prosecuted JOSEPH KINGHAM. I am a provision merchant at 86, High Street, Brentford—the prisoner came into my service about August 1887, and left on 1st October this year—he was a traveller, with a salary of 3l. a week and travelling expenses; he had no commission—his duty would be to solicit orders and report them to me—I would send the goods out and it was his duty to collect the money—among my customers, Edward Pullen, a grocer, of Pottery Road, Old Brentford, owed me 2l. 14s. 9d. for goods supplied in September—Mr. Starnes, of Pear Tree Terrace, Fulham, owed me 1l. 18s. 1d., and Mr. Marsh, a grocer, of Market Place, New King's Road, Fulham, 2l. 14s. 5d.—during that month Mr. Pocock was my cashier—it was the prisoner's duty to pay over to Mr. Pocock or myself sums of money directly they were received—none of those sums were ever paid over to me—we wrote to all our customers, in September, and on 1st October we first found those sums ought to have been paid over—the prisoner had a day's holiday on that day; I discharged him on 2nd October—he was arrested at the railway station and I gave him in charge—I don't remember that he said anything—he wrote this letter to me (This asked the prosecutor to forgive him for the sake of his wife and children, and to give him another chance to do well, and said that the money had been spent in trying to do trade.)
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You had been having 3l. a week and travelling expenses for about a month—previously to that you had 45s. a week for about six months—before that you were in the warehouse, where you had 35s. a week, I think—you were with me altogether about 15 months—I knew the money from Little was short a month before—you may have offered to pay that in—after that I said I would give you a rise, because I thought you could not live on 45s. a week, and I gave you 3l.—you said you and your wife had private means, and this was only an amusement—I did not ask if there were any more like Little's—you said Little's was an oversight on your part—you did not say there were several; if you had I should not have kept you a moment longer—I did not send you to get a bill of sale on your furniture to pay off the amounts you had embezzled—I got you to get two more guarantee societies to guarantee you, because we wanted to look into the matter further—we knew of no other amount than 2l. being wrong till 1st October—I did not say I would not take the 2l., because I had found out other amounts.
EDMUND PULLEN . I am a grocer, of 58, Pottery Road, Old Brentford—on 20th September I was indebted to the prosecutor 2l. 14s. 9d. for goods—on that day I paid the prisoner that amount, he gave me this receipt, which I saw him put his initials to—I received a notice to pay it again on October 1st
for goods supplied in August—I paid the prisoner that sum on 10th September—this is the receipt (This was signed "E Ferguson")
WILLIAM MARSH . I am a grocer, of the Market Place, New King's Road, Fulham—on 23rd September I owed the prosecutor 2l. 14s. 10d. for goods supplied in August—on the 27th I paid the prisoner 2l. 14s. 5d., being the amount due less 5d. discount—this is the receipt he gave me (This was signed "E Ferguson "') The prisoner altered the date from 23rd to 27th of his own accord in my presence; it was the 27th.
HARRY POCOCK . During September and since then I have been cashier to Mr. Kingham—it was the prisoner's duty to pay in all moneys he collected to me or Mr. Kingham the same evening if he was home in time, if not the next morning before he went on his journey—he never accounted to me for Marsh's 2l. 14s. 5d., or Pullen's 2l. 14s. 9d., or Starne's 1l. 18s. 6d.—these are his bill-heads—he entered the amounts he paid into this book, and I checked them afterwards—he paid me some cash on those days, but not these particular amounts.
Cross-examined. I have not the traveller's book here—if the sums are not in this book they would not be in the order book, because I check the one with the other.
By the JURY. Anthing paid to Kingham would to entered in this book—I have looked at the following days, there is no entry of moneys paid from those respective persons.
JOHN WILLIAM STARNES (Cross-examined) I paid you on that day three separate amounts, 2l. 8s. 11d., 1l. 18s. 6d., and 18s.; you paid in two of them, but not the 1l. 18s. 6d.; I know that from their books.
HARRY POCOCK (Re-examined) A clerk in our office made this entry, he is not here—I believe Marsh and Pullen did not pay more than one sum on the day mentioned—Pullen's and Marsh's are entered in the prisoner's writing.
WILLIAM WARNE (Detective Sergeant T) About half-past 9 p m., on 2nd October, I arrested the prisoner—I said "You will be charged with embezzling various sums of money of your employer during the last six months"—he made no reply—I conveyed him to Brentford Police-station, where he was charged; he made no reply.
JOSEPH KINGHAM (Re-examined by the Prisoner) At some time you gave me some money to serve Hulks with a writ because we said you were in partnership with him, and you denied it; I believe that was September 16th or 18th—you offered to go over to Messrs Woolbridge with me—I instructed our cashier not to take the 2l. for Little's account, you tendered it to Pocock and he refused—I handed you the money on the Monday to pay your salary and expenses, and you handed it back, with perhaps 10s. or 11s. as well, on purpose to serve Hulks with a writ—I asked you if there were many accounts like that, and you said "No"
By MR. BUCK. While the prisoner was in my service he was connected with Hulks, who got into my debt for about 30l.—I have had none of that money, only 5l. from the prisoner to serve him with a writ; on 15th October Hulks was bankrupt—the prisoner introduced him to me—up to the present the alleged defalcations amount to 28l., that we can prove.
The prisoner in his defence said that when Mr. Kingham asked him about.
Little's account he acknowledged there were others like it, and that Mr. Kingham took from him 5l. 14s. to pay the amounts he was short of.
(A letter was read, from the prisoner to Mr. Kingham, dated October 1st, saying that he had seen the circular Mr. Kingham had sent out; that he hoped his accounts would be found right, but that if anything were wrong he would be happy to pay it, as it was a mistake.)
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of conspiring to defraud, at this Court, in March, 1885— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
Mr. GREENFIELD Prosecuted; Mr. HUTTON defended Williams.
THOMAS HAMISIN I am a ship's steward, and live at Falmouth—on 28th September I was in a public-house in Wellclose Street with the two prisoners—I was tipsy, but I had my senses about me—I had about 3l. in gold and silver in the inside pocket of my inner trousers, I had two pairs on—I treated the prisoners; when I left the public-house and got into the square the prisoners caught hold of me and knocked me senseless, and unbuttoned my trousers and cut out my pocket; I found they had done it when I came to my senses—my nose and eyes were blue—at the station, after I was knocked about, I said I could not speak faithfully to the prisoners, but I recognise and speak positively to both of them now—they took 3l. odd in gold and silver from my pocket, about 4l. altogether; a pipe, knife, silk handkerchief, reference from a yacht, and my bill from the hotel.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON I did not see the prisoners after I was knocked senseless till I saw Williams at the police-station the same evening—he was there by himself; I was asked by the Inspector whether he was the man—I did not select him out of others—I said at the police-court the same evening I could not faithfully say he was the man—I could not have been very drunk that afternoon, I had my senses and could walk—I had been waiting at home all the morning for a boat to go home, I had only been to one public-house that I know of—I was pretty tipsy—both of the prisoners caught hold of me in Wellclose Square—neither of them said anything to me, they had no time, they said they had no money—I had not seen Williams before—I had seen Scarr before—I cannot remember being hit at all, I was knocked senseless—I was in bed for a week afterwards—I did not say at the police-station "I was hit in the belly"; one of the witnesses said it—I signed my depositions, which were read over to me—the wind was knocked out of me.
Cross-examined by Scarr. Before I saw you in the public-house, I saw you walking outside it.
Re-examined. I was drinking with the two men for about an hour in the public-house.
JOSEPH MAGINNIS . I am 13, I live at King David's Lane, Shadwell—on 28th September, between 3 and 4 in the afternoon, I was coming down Shorter Street, and I saw Scarr punch the prosecutor in the chest, and kick him, and undo his fly, and then Williams gave Scarr an open knife with which he cut out the pocket that contained the money—when Mr. Hillier at the public-house saw it, he blew his whistle, and the two
prisoners made off up the passage, and a constable came up and asked which way they ran—I atterwards saw Williams at the station, and I said he was the man that knocked the prosecutor down and treated him in this way.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I saw him at the station the same night; he was not among others—one of the officers pointed him out, and said "Is that the man?" and I said "Yes"—I did not know the prisoner nor he me—that was the first time I had seen him—I saw no other man but Scarr strike any blow—I was about five yards away—if Williams had struck a blow I should have seen it—this took about a quarter of an hour—I was with a boy who had a barrow—there was no cart in the road, the barrow was the only thing there—I did not see Williams use a knife; he banded one open to Scarr.
By the COURT. I swear to Scarr—when the Magistrate asked me who struck the blow, I said Scarr, and pointed to him—I said Williams or Scarr—I did not know his name.
JOHN BRAMMAN . I am 13 years old—I live at 14, Ship Alley, St. George's-in-the-East—on this afternoon, between 3 and 4, I was in Wellclose Square with a barrow—I saw the prosecutor there, and Williams and another man, whom I cannot identify, standing at the corner of No 3, talking together—Williams took a knife from his pocket, opened it, and gave it to the other man, and they cut the pocket which contained the money, and then Mr. Hillier blew his whistle, and they made off up the North East Passage, and a constable ran after them—I saw the prosecutor and Williams at the station, but I could not identify Williams till afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I heard Williams was caught and taken to the station—I went there and saw a man alone—at first I did not think he was the man—I saw no violence used, no blow given—I did not see Williams or the other man hit the prisoner—I was not there from the beginning—I do not know Williams, and he does not know me.
Louis NORMAN. I am a printer, of 50, Wellclose Square—I saw the prosecutor struck down by two or three heavy blows by two men, I could not say who.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I saw two or three blows all struck in his face, no blow on any other part of his body—I was close by—I saw a knife pass from one man to the other—I did not say at the police-court I saw a knife pass, because they did not ask me about it; I was asked to give an account of all I saw—I heard the other witnesses mention a knife—I partly made my own statement, and the Magistrate asked me questions.
DANIEL DENNEH (Policeman H 419) On this afternoon I heard a whistle, and ran to North West Passage, in the neighbourhood of Well close Square—I heard something and ran into Cable Street—I saw two men running in the direction of Prince's Square along Cable Street; they were then opposite Christian Street, at the corner of which Policeman 427 was standing—a large waggon concealed them from him; I blew my whistle; as I did so Williams turned and looked and increased his speed when he saw he was pursued—the other constable took up the chase; they ran into Prince's Square; I followed up; they separated—Policeman 427 continued after Williams—I followed Scarr into Mayfield's Buildings;
he was some distance ahead of me; he went into a house; I could not tell which one it was of two or three—I went and searched for them, but as the backs of the houses were connected there was not much chance of finding him—I did not find him—I returned to the station-house, and there I saw Williams, whom I identify as the man I pursued.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I followed Williams about 150 yards—I was about 50 yards from him when I first saw him—I did not get closer to him—I did not select him from among others at the station.
Re-examined. I recognised him at once—I did not recognise Scarr—I did not see his face.
THOMAS BURNS (Policeman H 427) On this afternoon I heard a police whistle blowing, and pursued the two prisoners (I am sure of them) through Prince's Square into St. George's Street and down Artichoke Hill into Pellington Street, where I caught Williams—he said "What is the matter?"—I said I should take him to the the station and see what was the matter—he struck me on the mouth with his fist, closed with me and threw me to the ground; he was very violent when on the ground, he pinched my leg—I got up, after some time I managed to get him to go to the station quietly, some more officers came—I have been on the sick list in consequence of this violence—I apprehended Scarr the same night—I had a description of him and I knew he was in Williams' company at the time—I told him the charge—he said "God blind me, I am innocent, governor, but I shall go to the station quiet"—on the road to the station he said "I shan't get more than a sixer"—he gave us no trouble.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I was chasing Williams for close on five minutes.
FREDERICK HENRY GAPP . I am a house agent, of 7, Med way Road, Bow—on this afternoon about 3, I saw the prisoners on either side of the seaman in Wellclose Square, Williams was holding him to the railings and the other cut his trousers pocket and took the money—he put it in his pocket and then ran up North East Passage—I identified Williams at the station and I do so now.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I saw the two prisoners on the following Friday in the police-court dock—I knew they were charged with robbing a sailor—I had seen them many a time before that day—I was 20 yards off when I first saw them, they were coming out of Gace's Alley into Wellclose Square—I was standing six or eight feet from Mr. Hillier's door, I was never closer than 15 or 20 yards to them—I did not see the prosecutor fall, I saw him go quietly away—I last saw Williams at the railings holding the sailor up—I did not go to his assistance, it is a dangerous spot to assist anyone—I did not go to the police-station, I had business in the neighbourhood.
Re-examined. I have seen the prisoners before and know their appear once well, and I knew them when I saw them at the police-court—I am quite sure they are the two men that I saw commit this robbery.
JOHN HILLIER . I keep the Eagle Brewery Tap, Wellclose Square—I was in the bar on this afternoon; something was said to me, I looked out at the door and saw the prisoners round the man; I blew my whistle—the prosecutor was with his back against the railings and the prisoners were in front of him—I had not seen them before to my knowledge—I blew my whistle and they left the man and came towards
me, and Scarr as he passed called me a b——y f——g bastard, and Williams offered to strike me; I blew my whistle again and they ran up the passage—the police came up and I told them which way to go, and they ran after them—I saw no blow struck.
PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions of felony WILLIAMS** in September, 1882, and SCARR in June, 1887, both at Middlesex Sessions.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 30th, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
he received a good character.
GUILTY. —Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his family. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
For other cases tried this day see Surrey Cases.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 30th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
JONES PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
REV MICHAEL RYAN . I am a Clerk in Holy Orders—I live at 49, Clarendon Square, St. Pancras—between 12 and 1 a m., on 27th Sep tember, my servant called me and I went into the church and struck a match—I thought I heard a noise—I went to the sanctuary, over which there is a tribune where the nuns can look into the sanctuary, the convent adjoins the church—something was said to me from the tribune—I found the door of the larger sacristy forced open, went in and heard men speaking in the smaller sacristy—I opened the door, and found four men with a candle, endeavouring to break open the safe which contained the plate belonging to the church—as I opened the door a man said to me "Hold on, governor," rushing before me into the larger sacristy—a scuffle ensued between the four men and me, the place is very narrow—they struck at me: what any particular individual did I am not prepared to swear; they also called to each other, "Why don't you use the stick on him?"—they had no stick as far as I could see, so I presume they meant the iron instrument with which they forced the door open—during the scuffle in the sanctuary the railings were torn down—I brought one of the men, I think Williams, on his knees, and two of the others I brought down flat; Jones I held in my right hand all the time, and did not let go—the other one being knocked down on his face had more power to get on his feet and hands, and got away leaving half
his waistcoat in my left hand—three of them got away—I held Jones till a constable came—on the day following we discovered outside in the convent garden a great deal of blood, and I found on Williams's hands when I examined them at the police-court such wounds as I should have expected to find on the man who had escaped over the fence—he got over the fence into the convent ground, which has an iron railing, and I don't see how any man could escape without having his hands torn—these cruets are the property of the church, and in the absence of other priests I am responsible for them—I am one of the regular priests there—the policeman found them on Jones—a small spoon is missing—the four almsboxes of the church had been broken open—I cannot say how much had been taken—the outer door of the tabernacle on the altar, which, from a Catholic point of view, I consider most serious of all, was broken off—the blessed sacrament is kept in the tabernacle—I was called to the station to identify Williams about a week afterwards—I picked him out from among 17 other men—there is in my mind a possibility that he might not be the man—I will not swear positively, but to the best of my belief I consider him to be one of the men.
Cross-examined by Wittiapis. You were placed with a number of men in a line—I went down the line without picking you out, the light was not very good—I walked back slowly and looked at each man and then I picked you out—I got no hint or information from the police that you were the man—they gave me no description of you when they came to say they had got a man—some of the men may have been less than 20 years old—the sacristy is 10 or 12 feet square—I had no light—possibly I saw all the faces when I went in, for a very short time—the police have apprehended one other that—I can only swear to as I do in your case, he is doing eighteen months at present, or would accompany you here.
JOHN TAYLOR (Detective Y.) On Monday, 27th September, I went to this church—an entry had been made by getting over a low wall in Clarendon Square, passing along the side of No 49, where Father Ryan lives, along the backs of 49 and 50, through a gateway in the wall and through a window in the side of the chaoel, which, I think, had been shut for a long time, but not fastened, as there was dust on the ledge and the sill; then up the aisle, round the altar to the sacristy, the door of which had been forced open by some instrument—another officer found this chisel—I found the lock of the safe, which is two feet by one foot six inches in the small sacristy, had been forced with this chisel—a little place in front of the altar was broken open—the rails were all broken down and four contribution boxes were broken open—I afterwards by daylight examined the back of the premises, and found some person had escaped through the same window over the walls at the rear of No 4, Charles Street, where there is a nine feet fencing with small spikes to keep people from getting up—I found a quantity of blood all down the fence where some person had clambered over, and at the bottom as though his hand had been torn—that was right at the back of the convent.
WILLIAM COCHRANE . I live at 5, Piatt Street, St. Pancras, and am a choir-boy at St. Aloysius Church—about 7 o'clock on Wednesday evening, 26th September, I was standing with another choir-boy outside the churchy-Williams came up and said to me "Do you belong to this
church?"—I said "Yes"—he said "What time does the service commence?"—I said "About half past 7"—he said "What time does it end?"—I said "About 8 or half past"—he said "Who is in the church now?"—I said "The choir master"—he then walked away in the direction of Charlton Street.
Cross-examined. The other witness is my brother—when I came to pick you out on the Sunday night he was away—he was at home on the Monday, I did not tell him what kind of a man I had picked out; he told me what kind of a man he thought you were—I did not see anybody go in the church or come out later on.
Re-examined. I picked out the prisoner at once at the police-station from 17 or 18 men—I have no doubt he is the man that spoke to me on this evening.
EDWARD COCHRANE . I am the last witness's brother—about a quarter to 9 p.m. on 26th September, I was passing the church, which was shut up as service was over, and I saw Williams and another man, not Jones, standing talking on the pavement outside the church—I walked up to them thinking they were two of the choir fellows, with the intention of saying good evening; but seeing they were not, I passed on and left them talking—I went to the station and picked out the prisoner from a number of other men—I have no doubt he is the man that was talking on this night—I gave a description of him to the police.
Cross-examined. I came on Thursday to identify you, I was not asked to come on Sunday or Monday—I was not near when you got out of the police-van—I saw nobody go in or come out; I was not near the church at the time the robbery happened.
JOSEPH ELLIS (Policeman Y 284) About 11 30 p.m. on the 26th I saw Williams with Jones and two others outside the Cock public-house, at the corner of Charlton Street, within 50 yards of the church, in a direct line with it, and on the same side of the road—they were standing talk ing, face to face—I am quite sure Williams was one of the men.
Cross-examined. I identified you after you were in custody, from about 200 more prisoners in Holloway Prison—I did not see you after I saw you outside the Cock, till I saw you in Holloway—I never saw you before you were outside the Cock, that I know of.
ALEXANDER MACMULLEN (Policeman Y 147) About 12 o'clock on this night I saw Williams with Jones and two other men outside the Clive public-house, in Phœnix Street, about 200 yards from St. Aloysius Church, in conversation—I was afterwards called to the church and took Jones in custody—I identified Williams at the police-court.
Cross-examined. I have known you for some time—you were standing in a room with no other prisoners on the Monday morning, when I identified you—the clerk said it was not necessary for me to give evidence at the police-court.
JOHN OTWAY (Detective Sergeant Y) About a quarter to 9 on Sunday night, 7th October, I was in the Euston Road with Taylor—I saw Williams about to enter the White Hart—I knew his name, and said "Sam, I want you"—he said "All right, I will go quiet, what is it?"—I said "I shall take you in custody, and you will be charged, with Harry Abbott, with breaking into a church in Clarendon Square"—Abbott is Jones's name—he said "I know nothing about it myself; I have heard of it; now you have got me fair give me a fair chance," meaning identi
fication—he said "Who has rucked on me?"—I said "No one has rucked on you to me"—he said "Oh yes they have, or you would not have known I was in it"—I took him to the station, where he was placed with 17 others, and picked out by Mr. Ryan, who said, to the best of his opinion, he was the man; both the boys picked him out also—one of his hands was cut, and on examining it, he said "Oh, that was done a week before this job, I can account for that"—the finger of one hand was cut, and the centre of the other was cut in four different ways, as if a spike had gone into his hand.
Cross-examined. You were wearing a glove when I arrested you and some white stuff was on it to heal it—the cut was very deep—you said something about a glass at a public-house—the cut is not straight; it goes across a little as well; the cross cuts are not the veins—a spike or glass would do it, or anything of that description.
By the COURT. I brought all the choir-boys who were in the neighhourhood to see if they could pick Williams out, and the Cochranes were the only ones who identified him; the others did not notice him about there that night.
Williams in his defence said that he lived 20 or 30 yards from Clarendon Square, and was always round there; that all he said to Otway was asking for a fair chance of being picked out.
WILLIAMS GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY**†to a conviction of felony in July, 1885— Two Years' Hard Labour, the last ten days in solitary confinemet.
GRADY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted JAMES BRASSINGTON (Policeman G 65) About 3 30 on Friday morning, 12th October, I was on duty in Saint Peter's Lane, and saw the door of the Queen's Head public-house open—I stood still, and saw the two prisoners come out—as soon as they saw me they turned sharp round and walked up St. John's Street—I walked after them till I saw another constable, then I blew my whistle and turned on my light—the two prisoners turned back and rau towards me—I turned back, and ran towards Sergeant Walsh, who took up the chase and caught Grady—I caught Smith in Little Sutton Street, about 400 yards from the house—Smith said "You have made a mistake; I was going to the meat market"—we took the two prisoners back into the house and called up the land lord—on the counter I found these matches, and on searching Smith I found similar matches in his waistcoat pocket and a shilling—when the prisoners ran I was about as far from them as I am now—I did not lose sight of them
Cross-examined. You turned sharp round and walked away from the public-house when you saw me—I did not stop you because I thought if I ran after one I should lose the other, and I followed till I saw another constable—I think the prosecutor lost 4s.
MICHAEL WALSH (Police Sergeant G 9) On this morning I heard a whistle and saw the prisoners running along St. John Street; I followed and captured Grady—I found on him at the public-house 2s. 6d. in silver, 10 1/2 d. bronze, and a sleeve link—I found the till of the bar behind the private bar door, on the floor, empty—the door of the public entrance had been opened—this gas piping, which had been behind the door for a fastening, was lying on the floor, a corner of it was broken off GEORGE FAULKNER I am proprietor of the Queen's Head, St. Peter's Lane—on this morning I was rung up, several constables were round the house—I went downstairs about 3 30 and saw the constables in the bar with the two prisoners—I had left 1s., three 6d., and 7d. in farthings and some odd coppers in the till—I had left the till safe in the bar at 1 30, when I went to bed—I saw the prisoners searched, some coins were produced which corresponded with those I had left there—the place was secure, I go round every night to see that it is—this bar was used for placing across the door to prevent its being burst in; there are bolts top and bottom.
Smith's Statement before the Magistrate " There was nothing broken belonging to the door, it was only barred up with a piece of gaspipe "Smith in his defence said that the shilling found on him he had earned
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
CARLO DAVINO (Interpreted) I lived at 7, Eyre Court, Eyre Street Hill, Holborn—I am an image maker—on 6th October between half-past 8 and 9 p.m. I left my house locked—when I came back at 11 30 I opened the door with my key and went upstairs—I found at the top of the stairs some boxes emptied out all over the landing; everything was safe except my money—I missed an Italian 20fr gold piece, some Italian francs tied together, 12l. in gold, a collar-stud, a small pair of scissors, three chains and a watch; a Post-office bank-book was thrown under the bed—the prisoner has slept in my house plenty of times be cause he has had nowhere else to go—I lost the key of my private door some three or four mouths ago when he was staying there—on the evening of 6th October I saw him in Barrilorna's restaurant—he left there between 9 and half-past—that is about two minutes' walk from my house—I am the sole occupier of the house, my wife is in Italy—I had four keys opening the same door.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is over eight months since you came to my house.
Re-examined. He was last there three or four or five days in last
month—I had a Jubilee shilling attached to my chain, with a little ring at the top.
LUIGI TOMAI (Interpreted) I am an ice-cream seller, living at 10, Eyre Street Hill—on 6th October, between 8 and 9 p m., I saw the prisoner at Barrilorna's restaurant—I saw him leave—I saw him between 10 and half-past 10 leave the prosecutor's house by himself—I saw him next day, Sunday—he never gave me any money—he was well dressed on the Sunday evening, and he showed me about 9s. or 10s. in copper and silver.
Cross-examined. I did not say on the Sunday afternoon "Them that stole the money if they do not give me half the money I shall have turned round on them"—we had a fight about three months ago, and I was obliged to stop indoors for three days.
CARLO GIACENTO (Interpreted) I am an ice-cream man, and live at 15, Fleet Row, Eyre Street Hill—on 6th October I was at Barrilorna's restaurant from 9 to 10—the prisoner and prosecutor were there—I came out and went to a beer-shop—I saw the prisoner about 11 o'clock the same evening, he gave me six sovereigns and a Jubilee shilling—he used to give me money before, to mind for him—a week before he said "My brother and father will send me some money next week"—I have spent the Jubilee shilling; a little bit was broken off it on one side—there was no hole in it, nor anything attached to it—I never lent the prisoner any money—I was afterwards arrested and searched, and 1l. 2s. 5d. taken from me—that was returned to me when I was released—it was mine—only one little piece was broken off the shilling.
DOMENICO SABINI . I live at 4, Eyre Street Hill—I go out in a cart selling block ice—on Sunday morning, 7th October, the prisoner came to me between half-past 7 and 8—I was putting on my jacket to go to work—he said "Where are you going?"—I said "I am going to work"—he said "Shall I come with you?"—I paid "Come if you like; I am going to serve my customers, and then I am going home"—he went with me—on the way he said "I am going to the Jews' market to buy a new suit of clothes; you will see this evening how nice I look; do you know anything?"—I said "No"—he said "They stole £12 from the Toscani"—I said "Ah! I can smell it! Is that the money that your brother sent?"—he said "What! are you the devil?" and he started laughing—I saw the prisoner again in the evening—he had on a new suit of clothes, and he treated me to a glass of beer—I have known him about two years—he worked all the summer—I served him with ice.
WILLIAM COOPER (Police Sergeant G 32) I arrested the prisoner on 7th October on Eyre Street Hill—I told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of stealing money from 7, Eyre Street, mentioning the name of the proprietor; he made no reply—I arrested Giacento about two days afterwards and took him to the station; on him I found a sovereign and two Jubilee shillings—one had had a ring attached to its edge, which had been broken off; the coin was not broken—I gave it back to Giacento, not knowing the prosecutor had lost it till afterwards—I found the prisoner 3s. 6d. in silver and 1d. bronze—I have since received from Giacento 8l. 3s.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate " Tomai never saw me come out of the prosecutor's house at all that night" CARLO GIACENTO (Re-examined) The prisoner gave me the 6l. and
the Jubilee shilling on the same Saturday evening; I cannot say whether it was half-past 9 or half-past 10.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 31st, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
THE SOLICITOR-GENERAL (SIR EDWARD CLARKE, Q C), with MR. POLAND, Prosecuted; MR. WILLIAMS, Q C., with MR. CLUER, Defended During the Solicitor-Generals opening the defendant (after consultation with his Counsel) , expressing his desire to
PLEAD GUILTY, the Jury returned a verdict of
GUILTY . — To pay a fine of 100l., and to enter into his own recognisances in 200l. to keep the peace and behave properly for twelve month.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted EMMA BASS. I am the prisoner's wife, and was living with him at 5, Charles Terrace, Walthamstow—we have three children living, Ada Emily, Harry William, and William Frederick—on the morning of 10th October I got up and lit the fire, and I or my little girl laid the table for breakfast—my husband came down a little after I did, about 8—I made the tea for breakfast, and put the pot in front of the fire—the prisoner came down just after—the children were in the kitchen at the time—he went into the backyard for a minute or two, and then came in and washed himself—he came into the kitchen while I was in the front room for a minute or two—I think the teapot was still in the same place—I took it up, and poured myself out a cup of tea—my husband went out for a minute or two—he was not in the room when I poured out my tea; I poured it nearly all into the saucer, and just put it to my lips, and let it run out of my mouth, because it was so nasty—I did not swallow any of it; I spat it out; I did not feel ill or anything—I went and washed my mouth out at the sink: I was sick then—I brought up a little froth and phlegm, but I think it was the cold water—my husband came back just as I finished being sick in the sink—the children did not have any tea; they just put it to their lips, and wiped their mouths with their pinafores, each of the big ones, Ada and William, not the little one—they said "Mother, what is the matter with the tea?"—I told them it was nasty, and not to touch it—I told my husband to taste it—he did not say anything Ada said "Father, what have you been trying to do? have you been trying to poison poor mother and us by putting poison in the teapot?"—he made no answer—I told Ada I would smack her head if she said such a thing as that about her father—I said "Fred, have
you put anything in the teapot?"—he did not answer me—I asked him to taste it, three or four times in case my mouth was out of taste—he said "You had better throw it away"—I emptied the teapot and threw it all down the sink, and I washed the teapot out quite a dozen times, and made fresh tea in the same teapot—I had a cup full of the fresh tea, that was all right—I got the water from the same place—my little girl washed the saucer out well, and used it again—my husband had taken it up and emptied it into the cup, and threw the cupful down the sink; that was before, I had washed out the teapot, directly he came back, directly after the girl had spoken to him—he was in the kitchen while I went into the front room for a minute or two to get some stuff to mend a stocking—(looking at a packet) I cannot read—I had never seen this paper containing this powder in the house; I had no idea that my husband had such a thing in his possession—I had never heard of there being any oxalic acid in the house—my husband had been rather strange before this; he seemed strange for about six weeks, as if he was not well—his head was very bad—he complained of it twice—he said if his head was not so bad he would give 20l.—I told him to go to the hospital, as he was so near it—the last time he said this was on the Monday morning in the week before—I can't say that we had lived over happily before.
ADA EMILY BASS . I am 10 years of age—on Wednesday morning, 10th October, mother came down and made the tea, and put it in front of the fire—I was there at the time; my big brother Harry was in the washhouse, washing himself; the other brother was in the kitchen—my father came down, mother went into the front room, father went out at the back—he came back into the kitchen, and then he went to wash himself, came back, and went to the front of the fire where the teapot was—mother was still out of the room—whilst he was standing in front of the fireplace he took up the lid of the teapot, and held it in his hand, that was all I saw him do—I then went into the washhouse—I left him in front of the fire with the teapot in his hand—he stood there about two or three minutes—mother then came back into the kitchen, and said to me "Pour me out a cup of tea, Ada"—I was too long in doing it, and she poured it out herself—father put on his hat and coat and went out—mother poured her tea into the saucer, and then she sipped it and spit it out—she let it run out of her mouth—I tasted it out of the same saucer—it was like bitter stuff, not like ordinary tea; Harry also tasted it—then father came in and found mother sick in the sink—the saucer had been put back on the table, and the teapot also—I said "Oh, father, have you been putting anything in this tea?"—he never spoke a word—I do not know whether he could hear what I said—he stood by the side of the table—mother asked him to taste it—he would not—mother said to him "You had better taste it if you say my mouth is out of taste"—he said "You had better throw it into the sink," and then he went and threw it out of the saucer himself—mother emptied the tealeaves out of the teapot, and washed it out five or six times, and made some fresh tea—I did not taste it.
JOSEPH HUDSON (Police Inspector.) On 10th October, shortly before 10 a m., the prisoner came to the Walthamstow Police-station—I did not know him—he said "I have been and done a very foolish thing, I have tried to poison my wife and three children; I have given them some of
this (handing me this packet of oxalic acid); I put it in their tea this morning Oh, my poor head, it has been bad for a month My wife drank some of the tea, and she was sick I don't think the children drank any of it"—the packet is marked "Oxalic acid poison, Fox and Sons, family and dispensing chemists, 109 and 111, Bethnal Green Road, and 72, Bridport Place, Hoxton"—I detained the prisoner, and sent for Dr Lake, the divisional surgeon, and got him to go and see the wife and children; they appeared all right—I saw the tealeaves in the sink—I showed the packet of stuff to Dr Lake, he examined it—the prisoner appeared as if he had been drinking, he was not drunk; he seemed to understand what he was saying—he was charged with this offence on his own confession—I read the charge over to him; he made no reply.
WELLINGTON LAKE . I am divisional surgeon of police at Waltham stow—I was called by the last witness to the prisoner's house, and was shown this packet of oxalic acid—it had been an ounce, and half an ounce remained—it is poison—if given in any quantity it would cause very serious consequences—it is a violent irritant poison—from a grain to half an ounce is the smallest dose that has been known to kill—given in any quantity, however small, it would be likely to injure, to be very unpleasant, and cause sickness—it would taste very bitter—persons would not be likely to take it voluntarily; they would spit it out—if they swallowed half an ounce of it it might cause death—I saw the prisoner; he seemed very strange, as if he had been drinking—I suggested that he should be detained under supervision for a fortnight to ascertain the state of his mind—that was done at the suggestion of the Magistrate at Stratford—I have not seen him since—I only saw him on that occasion.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon to Her Majesty's Gaol, Holloway—my attention was called to the prisoner when he came in (on 10th October—he was low and depressed, and inclined to cry—I examined him at length; I detected no sign of insanity in him—I have seen him several times since; he has improved—I found no indica tion of insanity about him.
Prisoner's Defence. I will speak the truth, so help me God I bought the oxalic acid, not intending to poison my wife, but to poison myself for my drunken habits The last six weeks I have been very bad off for work and been at expense every week, and my wife gave way to drink, which preyed on me a good deal, so I thought I would make away with myself and put an end to it, and I put it in the teapot I am very sorry to think I have done such a foolish thing.
GUILTY . The Inspector stated that the prosecutrix had been given to drink very much lately', and bore a 'very bad character.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
There were other indictments against the prisoner for attempting to administer the poison to the children, upon which no evidence being offered, the verdict of
NOT GUILTY was taken.
SHARP PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN defended Butler,
EDWIN ROBERT SPIERS . I am agent for the landlord of 5, Ferndale Villas, Drayton Road, Leytonstone—it is a semi-detached house—on 24th April Sharp took it at a rent of 30l. a year for three years—he went into possession on 14th May—he paid the first quarter's rent, 3l. 15s.—the adjoining house was empty at the time of the fire—I had not been to the house between 16th June and 11th August.
WALTER OLDFIELD . I am a painter—on 28th August I arranged with Sharp to varnish the hall and kitchen and paint the scullery at 5, Fern—dale Villas—I worked there on Thursday, the 30th, and Friday, the 31st—between 2 and 3 o'clock on the Friday afternoon the prisoners were both there together—Sharp called me into the breakfast parlour and asked what I would charge to do the folding-doors and the skirting—I asked him 8s.; he thought it was too much—they stayed there about 20 minutes—there was nobody living in the house but a little boy of about 14—to the best of my knowledge he slept there on Thursday night—on Friday, the 31st, I left the house at 7 45 with my assistant, William Brown—we were the last to leave—there had been some workmen there belonging to the builder, doing the roof—everything was perfectly safe when we left—he furniture had been piled up in the middle of the room on the ground floor, and the carpets turned up at the side for me to do the varnishing, so as not to make a mess—I have done that as a workman for 28 years—at the time I left there was no resin on the furniture or strewed about—Mr. Sharp used to let me in of a morning; he usually slept there—the little boy let me in on the Friday morning.
WILLIAM BROWN . I am a workman, and was assisting Oldfield at 5, Ferndale Villas on 30th and 31st August—I left at a quarter to 8 with him—the place was all safe then; no one was in the house—there was no resin on the furniture, or anywhere about—I heard of the fire when we went next morning.
HORATIO MILLER . I live at Leyton, and am captain of the fire brigade of Leyton and Leytonstone—about eight minutes to 1 o'clock on Saturday morning, 1st September, I was called to a fire at 5, Ferndale Villas—I got there just about 1 o'clock; the Leytonstone contingent of the brigade were there at work—the fire was burning fiercely, and the roof was burnt off—I broke the glass of the front door and got into the front parlour, ground floor—I found the furniture piled up in the centre of the room—it was about an hour and a half before we got the fire under—I then made a partial examination of the premises—I went into the parlour and the back room, which opens with folding-doors; they were open—I found a sticky substance all over the sideboard—I then walked through to where the staircase had been, and found two large oil cans (produced) ; one with the bung out contained a portion of paraffin, the other had contained varnish or some such substance; that was empty—I then went over the furniture of the house—I saw Inspector Walsh, and drew his attention to the state of the premises—at that time the water was pouring through from the top, and it was very dark—I left two of my members, Lieutenant Hay and Ensign King-ton, in charge of the premises, and left the examination till the morning—a little after 9 next morning I made a further examination—the whole of the doors were smothered with pieces of resin—on the piano in the parlour the resin had run all over the piano and on the Keys of it—on the back of the sideboard there were traces of paraffin, also on the table.
cloth—later on I found this tin on the sideboard, containing about 10 oz. of gunpowder; the lid was open, and the gunpowder was scattered in the sideboard, and nothing else with it—Sharp came up in a cab that morning, and I saw Butler later on—after I had come back from showing Butler the state of the premises, which I was requested to do, Sharp said "I am in custody on this case," and Butler turned round and said "I suppose you know what you are about?"—the detective said "Decidedly so"—Sharp asked for a few minutes' consideration, then he said to Butler "You have led me into this; you have drawn every sovereign out of me, and have been my ruin"—I don't remember that Butler made any answer; he was then taken into custody—I saw the key of the safe found before that when Sharp came up in the cab—a friend of Sharp's opened the safe, and this policy for 500l. and two receipts were found in it—this revolver was on the table; no cartridges were found—after the examination on Monday, this paraffin lamp was found at the foot of the stairs with some debris—it had evidently been taken out of the socket and thrown there.
Cross-examined. I should say when I got there the fire had been burn ing some time, possibly three-quarters of an hour—Sharp appeared some what excited, Butler was calm.
WILLIAM TAGG . I live at Leytonstone—I am second officer of the Volunteer Fire Brigade—I was the first to arrive at the fire at two or three minutes to I—the roof was then off, and it was burning furiously—I got to work first about the front, and afterwards at the back—when Mr. Miller arrived he went into the house—the fire was got down about half past 2—I saw the resin about the furniture and about the place, and saw the cans—the fire in the parlour was decidedly a separate fire from the other fires in the house.
JOHN WALSH (Police Inspector) I got to the fire about 1 45—I was in charge of the police there—after the fire was extinguished I went over the premises with Captain Miller about 3 in the morning—I saw resin on the sideboard in the back parlour—I collected some of the resin from the doors, the piano, sofa and sideboard, and on and under the table—I have a quantity of it here—about 4 o'clock the two prisoners were detained at the station together—after they were charged Sharp made a statement in Butler's presence, which after a caution I took down in writing, read it over, and Sharp signed it—Butler could hear every word he said, and he said "I can disprove that statement"—this is the statement (The state ment was commenced to be read, but at the suggestion of Mr. Justice Cave, that as Butler did not admit its truth, it was not received.)
GEORGE BLANKS (Detective) I went to the house and saw the state in which it was—I saw the prisoners together—on Saturday afternoon, 1st September, about a quarter to 1, some statements were made to me by Sharp—Butler did not say anything to me with reference to the fire—I saw a tablecloth in the house; I have it here; it was saturated with paraffin and resin.
Cross-examined. Sharp signed a cheque in my presence—I can't say the amount—the last train from the City arrived at Leytonstone at 20 past 12—I think the station is about 10 minutes' walk from the house.
and see if they keep the powdered resin, I want 4 lb to do some stopping:, ask what it will be"—I went over and ordered 4 lb., and said I would go in for it—later in the evening—at 9 30 Butler gave me one shilling, and I went and purchased the resin; it cost 8d.—I took the resin and the 4d. back, and Butler took it and placed it somewhere behind the bar—I left the club that night a little after 12—I was there on Friday, I saw nothing of the resin that day; I never saw any of it used at the club—Butler lived at 31, Cottage Grove, Stockwell.
Cross-examined. There had been repairs at the club ever since we had been there
WILLIAM MARTIN . I am a glass bottle maker, of Boston Road, "Walthamstow—I was in charge of the Bedford Club from the Saturday till the Sunday night—I examined and looked for resin but could find none.
JOSEPH HENRY TILL . I am a clerk, and live at Walthamstow—on Friday night, 31st August, I was at the Bedford Club—I saw Sharp there; I went with him by train from Liverpool Street to Leytonstone, that was the last train—we arrived at Leytonstone about 25 minutes past 12—we went to 5, Ferndale Villas, and saw the fire as soon as we got there—I remained until it was practically extinguished—about 20 minutes to 1 I saw Butler there standing at the opposite corner of the road, which is about 20 yards wide—I spoke to him, our conversation was general, bearing on the fire of course—I was in an excited state, finding the place on fire; I noticed that his hands were dirty and sticky—I saw him at intervals during the fire, until it was extinguished—I had not seen him for a fortnight before, I have only seen him about twice in my life.
Cross-examined. I can't remember whether I said before the Magistrate that his hands were sticky—I know I said they were dirty.
JOHN SHARP (the Prisoner) I did live at 5, Ferndale Villas; I have five children, they lived away from the house—I lived there with a son, a boy of 14, we slept there—we did not sleep there on the Thursday night—I slept there on the Wednesday—I had insured my furniture in the house for 500l., my furniture at the previous house was insured for 500l. and was transferred to a Mr. King, my successor, that Was an insurance on a freehold house—on 4th August I gave that bill of sale to Mr. Louis Marcusson on the entire furniture and effects of the house, 5, Ferndale Villas, for 90l., at the rate of 60 per cent, per annum, the principal and interest to be paid by monthly instalments of 9l. on the 3rd of each month, the first payment to be payable on 3rd September Butler was my partner at the club at Clapham—we wanted money to make extensive alterations, which we had previously advertised; we had not the money to do it—the 90l. was borrowed for the purpose of completing the money for the house which I had to make up—I completed the purchase of the house with the 90l. and money I borrowed from my daughter—all my money had gone then within 100l., which was to pay off the bill of sale, that was in my nephew's account—I was a party to setting fire to this house, I consented—I did not do it myself; the arrangement with Butler was that we were in difficulties for money,
and in talking it over it was suggested that this should be done; I did not wish it to be done—Butler suggested that we should have the fire and get the insurance, for the purpose of carrying out the alterations that were necessary, viz., a billiard saloon and skittle saloon at the back of the place—I demurred, I did not care for it—he said "Please your self"—I said "I don't know what to do, I want the money"—he said "If you leave it to me, I am no fool at the game, it shall be done and there shall be no risk"—I left him on that Thursday night about half past 10, and went home—as I got into the tramcar he said if I had anything to say to him would I leave it in writing, if I was not at home, to arrive at 5, Ferndale Villas—at about a quarter past 3 on Friday afternoon he came to me there—I heard him remark as he passed through the hall "What a smell of paint," and he walked deliberately upstairs—I was in the parlour; I went upstairs and we both went into my bed-room—I said "What have you got there?"—he said "That's all right, don't let anybody see it, lock the door"—there was a can and a parcel in a kind of mat bag—I locked the bedroom door and gave him the key, and we came downstairs and had a cup of cocoa together—it was suggested then about having the parlour varnished, and I agreed with the man that he should do it—it was suggested by him that we should turn up the carpets and move the furniture from the sides of the room into the centre, which was done in his presence—we had some words, I cannot call to mind what they were, and we came away together about a quarter to 4, or half-past 3—I said "Now, what time will you be back here?"—he said "What time are the men going to leave off work?"—I said "About half-past 7 o'clock"—before I came away I said to my little boy, in Butler's presence, "You have got to come home to Stockwell to me, and be sure to see that the house is secure, with the exception of the back entrance, leave the back yard door with a piece of wood under the latch"—then we came away, shook hands, and parted; I took the train—Butler said he would be there about half-past 8 or 9 o'clock—I said "Why so early?"—he said he would not leave it till late, as he intended to be a at music-hall when the fire was going—I took the train to Liverpool Street, called at Straker's on Ludgate Hill, and ordered 20,000 handbills about the music-hall; afterwards I got to Clapham about half-past 7 o'clock—I first heard that the place was on fire when I was coming from Clapham by the last train from Liverpool Street—it was arranged that when I came down by the last train it should be all over—when I got to the house I found it rising from the roof—I said "My God! this is my ruin"—I was in the centre of the garden—I saw Butler and crossed over and said "How is this?"—he put his hands up and said "This will show you, "his hands were very dirty—he said "I did not have a key and could not get in, it must have gone out in the parlours, give me the key"—I put my hand in my pocket and withdrew the key in the excitement of the moment, I said "No, come with me "and I went in with him and opened the parlour door and found that nothing was ignited there—there was a dense smoke—there was a hand lamp on the hat rail, the receiver was fitted in the socket—I picked it up with the intention of throwing it across the furniture, he took it from my hands and threw it at the bottom of the stairs where the fire was smouldering, and there was one dense flame—
we came out and then arranged for me to go away, and he would meet me close by the Plough public-house, which he did about a quater to 3 or half-past 2 o'clock—we walked from there after changing our hats to Hackney Station along Lea Bridge Boad—I said it was a most sorrowful plight, it would sure to be found out—he said " No, it Would not it was a clear burn and had gone right through the roof—we got into a cab and rode as far as the Elephant and Castle, and took another cab from there home to Stock well where he lived—my boy had slept at his house there that night—we got to his place about 4 o'clock, woke up his wife and had a cup of tea—it was arranged that I should go and lie down at my room at the club, and my boy should be sent to me—I afterwards received a telegram from the police, and I replied that we would come and I went—I afterwards made a statement to the police—I did not see any resin at the club—it was not to be used at the club at all, there was no necessity for it—all the patching that was to be done was about half a dozen hat rails about 3 and 6 feet long Cross-examined. The furniture was worth more than 500l.—I never insured it for less—at the Lord Raglan It was for 750l.—I had 100l. in the bank at the time of the fire, it was the balance of 250l. that I had received from Messrs Ind, Coope and Co—Butler did not have a penny of the 250l., it was not his money—oh, yes, I paid two dishonoured bills of his for 9l. 10s. at the Bedford Arms, and gave him 9l. for little incidental debts which he said he owned—in my statement at the station I said that I had expended the last sovereign I had in my possession, so I had of mine—that 250l. was the mortgage of the house which I had previously redeemed for 300l. from Ind, Coope and Co., out of respect for me and the previous trade I had done with them—I say that Butler first suggested this fire to me—it was talked about some fortnight previously, but we had not come to any definite settlement—when I left him on the Thursday he said if I had anything to say to him to put it in writing—I suppose that meant any arrangement about the fire—he did not say "about the fire;" he implied it—we were not more than three-quarters of an hour together on the Friday afternoon; it might not have been so much—when I got there by the last train it was about 20 minutes to 1—there was no flame at that time; the smoke was rising from the roof—Till was a friend of mine—when I spoke to Butler I requested Till to leave us, and he walked away—I said "Don't you come back here"—I asked him to go for the fire engine, but the whistle was sounded; I thought it was a police man's whistle—I don't know that in my statement to the police I said anything about Butler's hands being dirty—Till did not speak to Butler before I did—I told him to go away in case he might get himself into trouble; he hesitated—he was just as much flurried as I was—I knew that Butler was going to be late in the City that night—the arrangement was that he should be at a concert, not that he should see the stage manager of the Standard—he did not say "Very likely I shall be too late to get back to Clapham from Shoreditch," nor did I say "You had better come by the last train to Leytonstone, and sleep at my place"
Louis MARCUSSON. I live at 6, London Road, Southwark—I advanced 90l. on this bill of sale—I saw the things before making the advance—
their value at an auction sale would be about 50l. to 60l.; at a purchase sale it would be a good deal more, nearly 200l.
JOSEPH HENRY TILL (Re-examined) I was at the Bedford Club on the Friday at half-past 7 or a quarter to 8—Sharp was there then; he remained with me the whole time until I went to Leytonstone, except perhaps for an interval of three or four minutes.
BUTLER— GUILTY .
He PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court in August, 1887, and three previous convictions were also proved against him.— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude. SHARP (who received a good character) was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
CHARLES BATES WANTY . I am a draper, of 117, Leytonstone Road—on 3rd September an assistant named Gurley came into my employ at 11 a m., and about 1 30 the prisoner came in—she wandered about the shop till Gurley was disengaged, and then went up to him—he put some goods on the counter, but she bought nothing—he then slipped a parcel tied up into her hands, and she walked out with it—he walked by her side, and she held the parcel between him and herself—he was between her and me—in the ordinary way the assistant would not go from behind the counter to show anybody out of the shop—he went outside with her, and then came back—I took her into a doorway, and asked one of my buyers to detain her, and when I got back Gurley had gone—I then went to the prisoner and said "These goods are mine; you have stolen them"—I opened the parcel which was in her hand; it contained three pieces of dress stuff, value about 30s.—she was in the shop 10 minutes—I had never seen her before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The shop was full—I do not think you would know what was in the parcel.
BENJAMIN COLEMAN (Policeman K 499) On 3rd September I was called to Mr. Wanty's shop, and he gave the prisoner into my charge for stealing three pieces of dress stuff—she said "I know nothing about the contents of the parcel; I came into the shop and asked the man behind the counter for a dress pattern; he gave me the parcel and told me to take it outside to a lady who had a bill"—I took her to the station, she made no reply to the charge, and refused her name and address.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know the contents of the parcel, neither did I know it was stolen, or I should not have taken it.
GUILTY on the Second Count She then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in June, 1884, when she was sentenced to five years' penal servitude Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour, having still to undergo a year and five months of her last sentence.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
The prisoner was tried in the previous Session (See Sessions Paper, Vol C VIII., page 689), with two others, for stealing bicycles of Charles Lewry, and was then acquitted Te present case was founded upon the same facts Charles Lwery, John Smith, and Thomas Francis gave in substance the evidence they had given on the previous occasion; and the following three witnesses were called by prisoner in his defence:
ALEC COCKS (In custody) I am a photographer—I live at 17, Winforten Street, Greenwich—on July 14th you came down to Greenwich with me to see a friend I said you had not seen for fifteen years, I did not say who it was—at Brixton Station; just before we started, you lent me 1l., I giving you to understand I would return it the same day—when we got to Blackheath Hill Station, Muskett was waiting our arrival—I gave you to understand the machine fetched from Lewry's on July 14th was Muskett's—you did not go to Lewry's—I rode the machine away—Muskett asked you outside Sprunt's to take the machine into Sprunt's, the pawnbroker's, as he did not understand pledging things at all, and he might make a muddle of it if they asked him any question—I don't know if I or Muskett handed you the receipt, I think it was in an envelope, I am not sure—I cound swear you had not seen the receipt previous to the moment I handed it to you—you had not seen us for a long while—I don't suppose you hand any reason to suppose it was forged—you simply pawned the bicycle to oblige Muskett—you came across and told us 3l. 10s. was all they would allow on it, and asked if they would be enough—we were in a public-house across the road—it was only a temproary pressure on us, and we thought we could do with that—on your giving me the 3l. 10s. I handed you the 1l. you lent me—I and Muskett were in partnership—it made no difference to you what the machine fetched, it was simply a friendly action.
Cross-examined. There had been temproary pressure for the month—I got a tricycle at Lwery's before 1st July—I won't swear if it was 30th June—I heard Lewry say the prisoner was with me in that occasion—that machine was pawned the same day that it was obtained—on that occasion I passed in the name of Thomas to the pawnbroker—I went on 7th June to Mr. Hall, of 86, Atlantic Road, Brixton—I did not go with Sheirs—I heard him swear so, he made a mistake, I think—I passed then as Albert James; I was in business in that name at 10, Wormwood Street, in the City, as a tobacconist; I had a shop there—I am a photographer—I did not pass myself off as a tailor—I got a tandem tricylcle from Hall, which I think Shiers and I rode off on; it was not worth 30l.—I gave the address 40, Milton Road, Herne Hill; I was living there—I pawned the machine the same day for 10l. at Sprunt's place—I produced a receipt and said I pawned it for my cousin, Mr. Johnson—I gave lewry my name of Cocks—I went to Dear love's shop and got a tandem tricycle—the prisoner was with me—I rode it to Mr. Sprunt's and it was pawned the same day—the prisoner was down at Greenwich
about a shop in the Broadway, Deptford, when we went to Lewry's—I told him of the shop and got him an order to view it—he did not think the bicycles and tricycles alter the second one belonged to me—the second one was Lewry's—he thought Hall's belonged to me—I was out of business then—when the second tricycle was got I and Muskett went to Lewry's and left the prisoner at the public-house—Lewry came in and found the three of us together—we were all outside Sprunt's together when the machine was pawned; we were in a public-house close by—the prisoner wanted a lot of pressing to go in; he did not care about it—my father is "Cocks and Son, practical art tailors"—I don't know who is the "Dear Alfred, "I did not write it—I believe the receipt was given to the prisoner in an envelope or else folded up—it was given to him because they would not take it in without a receipt—the prisoner had not time to look at it, it was about a quarter to 9; he just looked at the top; he had hardly a minute to spare—I don't know why he gave the name of Archibald Jackson.
Re-examined. It was our first visit when we went to Hall's; I said it was my own tricycle, and I was having ball bearings on it and having it touched up, and there was 50s. for repairs—I said if you lent me 2l. 10s. would I accompany you to get the machine and see it was all right; you would not lend me 2l. 10s. without accompanying me, and you did not part with the 2l. 10s. till you got outside the shop; you did not go in the shop—I paid you 7s. 6d. for coming with me—you rode the machine to Sprunt's, believing it was mine—I gave you 2l. 17s. 6d. outside.
By the JURY. I have been a bicycle and tricycle agent at Finsbury Avenue, about 18 months ago.
The prisoner received a good character
NOT GUILTY .
COCKS was sentenced to Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MEAD Prosecuted.
HENRY CRESPIN . I am a sergeant in the Royal Artillery, stationed at Woolwich—I have been there since 1879—I had a driver in my A division named Thomas Jenkins, the prisoner is not that man—Jenkins had fair hair, a kind of auburn, rather inclined to be curly, with light blue eyes, and inclined to be more stoutly built—on 1st February, 1887, Jenkins was discharged, with a pension, as being medically unfit—he was with me two years preceding his discharge—he could not have been absent from service during December and January without my knowing it—I paid him 22l. when he left, that included 19l. 12s. 9d. deferred pay—this signature, "Thomas Jenkins," on the certificate of discharge was signed in my presence by the deceased—in this ledger, from which we make payments, I have Jenkins's signature—it was made in my presence.
WILLIAM BLANEY STUART . I am a sergeant in the Royal Artillery I recollect Thomas Jenkins, who was discharged on 1st February, 1887, he was nothing like the prisoner—the certificate of identity and discharge was made out by one of the clerks in the office—it refers to
Thomas Jenkins, who was discharged in February—the description on the back is his description when dicaharged; we see the man before his
HENRY GORDON ROGERS . I am a staff officer of pensioners for the Woolwich district-Thomas Jenkins, a pensioner, was entitled to a temporary pension from the 2nd February, 1887, to 1st August, 1888 commence with—this is the first identity certificate received by the real Thomas Jenkins—it was sent to the pension office by the work house authorities ultimately—we received a declaration that the identity certificate was lost, and in consequence of information we received we issued a duplicate certificate of identity on 6th March, 1888—if a man has lost his certificate of identity he is required to make a statutory declaration that he has lost it, and then after receiving authority from the War Office we issue a new one—in cousequence of such instructions we issued this duplicate—strictly speaking, when a pensioner cashes the post-office orders he should produce the certificate of identity, and then there is a place for the post-office clerk to stamp just as in the Post-office Savings Bank—this is the life certificate (produced)—we pay our pensioners quarterly in advance, the quarters commence on the 1st January—before the issue of a pension the man sends in his life certificate, which ought to show the office at which he wishes his post-order payable, and also the address he wishes it sent to—to enable the order to go out on the first day of the quarter the certificate has to be signed by some person attesting that the pensioner is alive and the person referred to—this purports to be attested by "H. C. Lewis, M. D., F. R. C. S., medical superintendent of Greenwich Workhouse," and is dated 2nd June, 1888—on 3rd July pursuance of that life certificate received 2nd June, I sent a post-office order for 1l. 1s. 4d., payable at New Cross—signed on it is: "Received the above, Thomas Jenkins"—on 4th July, 1888, some person attended a medical examination, and the result of that Was a report by the medical man to the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, and they made the temporary pension permanent—I cannot say if I saw the person who presented himself for medical examination—I sent this post-office order to make up the balance to 30th September—I think an additional life certificate was sent in when the pension was made permanent—I received this lite certificate; payment was required to be made at the post-office, 393 New Cross Road; letter to be called for—it is dated 1st September, and purports to be attested by "Hugh Vincent, clergyman, Chaplain of the City of London Union Infirmary"—I had been informed then that the original Thomas Jenkins was dead—I sent this post-office order for 3l. it purports to be signed Thomas Jenkins—the police were communicated with-this is the letter I received from the workhouse, dated 18th August, accompanying the returned documents.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is quite possible you attended at my office on 24th February and 4th July; 1 cannot remember it.
Re-examined. I don't know the prisoner at all—I did not know.
MARIA PRATT . I am a widow—I keep the post-office and money-order-office at 393, New Cross Road-on 3rd July this post-office order for 1l. 4d. was cashed there by my assistant-the prisoner received the money and signed the order "Thomas Jenkins" in my presence—I received a letter asking me to take in letters addressed to Jenkins-in
the last week in June I received by post an official envelope, which I gave to the prisoner—this post-office order for 3l. 11s. was cashed on 1st October—I gave the money to the prisoner, who signed it "Thomas Jenkins"—Henry Bishop, a constable, was present and took him into custody.
JENNIE STEEL . I am a nurse at St. George's Infirmary, Fulham Road—in April last there was a patient there named Thomas Jenkins; he had been there since 1st December, 1887, when I went there—I found him there—the prisoner was also an inmate; he was there before me, I believe—he went in the name of Herbert Villiers—he knew Jenkins, and always called him Jenkins—Jenkins died on 7th April, 1888—this is the certificate of his death (This stated, among other things, that the deceased was twenty-six years of age, and died of phthisis.) I know Jenkins had some papers in his pocket—he was not like the prisoner, his hair was light brown or auburn, and his eyes blue.
Cross-examined. You may have been in the infirmary when Jenkins died, I don't know.
JOHN HENRY LOCK . I am steward at St. George's Infirmary—Thomas Jenkins was admitted as a patient on 19th October, 1887—he died on 7th April this year—Herbert Villiers was admitted on 9th March, 1888, and discharged himself on 22nd March—Miss Gibbons handed me some papers, which I sent by post to headquarters at Woolwich.
Cross-examined. You were always admitted as a pensioner—you des cribed yourself as a pensioner—Thomas Jenkins was described as a labourer—I cannot say if the first question asked of an applicant by the authorities is "Are you in receipt of a pension?"—we never received any pension from you.
Re-examined. When the workhouse authorities have pensioners under their care, and the pension is received, they take it in liquidation of the expense to which they are put, and pensioners suppress the fact that they are pensioners to avoid their money being taken—the prisoner is the only case I ever knew of a man describing himself as a pensioner.
WALTER CHARLES SKARDON BURNIE . I am medical superintendent of Greenwich Workhouse and Infirmary—there is no H. C. Lewis, M. D. and F. R. C. S., medical superintendent of Greenwich Hospital—there is such a person, but he has nothing to do with the medical department, he is the registrar of deaths—this is not his signature—I know the prisoner, he has been in the workhouse infirmary four times from 26th January, 1887, to 7th March, 1887; from 22nd March, 1887, to 11th May, 1887; from 11th to 14th October, 1887, and from 4th April, 1888, to 17th April, 1888; always under the name of George Williams—he came in all through as a seaman I think—the last time he came as a dispenser—he never described himself as a pensioner to my knowledge.
JOSEPH HENLEY . I am a porter at the City of London Union Infirmary, Bow Road East—on 1st September this year there was no chaplain there named Hugh Vincent; there has never been to my knowledge—the prisoner was in the infirmary from 28th December, 1887, to 24th January, 1888, as Herbert Villiers, dispenser; and from 9th July to 24th July, 1888—on 20th July he went out for the day.
HENRY BISHOP (Police Sergeant R) At a quarter past 11 on the morning of the 1st of October I went to the post-office, 393, New cross Road, in consequence of information received—I was concealed in (the place—I saw the prisoner enter and receive some money at the desk and he signed; I stood behind him—I said "Herbert Villiers, I shall take you into custody for forging the name of a man, Thomas Jenkins, who is dead, with intent to defraud the War Office"—then he replied "I am Thomas Jenkins"—on the way to the station he said "You are a man of the world; you know what things is; I went in the name of Herbert Villiers because if I went into the infirmary in the name of Jenkins, knowing I was receiving a pension, they would stop a portion of it"—he afterwards said "I am Thomas Jenkins, and you see I am alive"—at the Station when charged he persisted in saying hit name was Jenkins, and he said "The dead man must have stolen my papers, I lost them in January last"—the signatures on these two post-office orders and on this one for 3l. 11s.) which I saw signed, are all, in my opinion) in the same writing
Cross-examined. You were writing a letter in the post-office when I arrested you—I saw you sign a paper which afterwards turned out to be the money order.
The prisoner in his defence asserted that he was Thomas Jenkins, but that he went in the name of Villiers; that he had been medically examined, and that his papers had been stolen when he was in the infirmary.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
He PLEADED GUILTY to the third Count, and was admitted to bail with a view to his making some compensation to the prosecutrix. —Discharged on recognisances.
Before Mr. Recorder.
—Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted. MR. POLAND, at the suggestion of the Court, offered no evidence—
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TAYLOR Prosecuted; MESSRS GEOGHEAN and LAWLESS Defended.
WILLIAM TALL (Thames Policeman 81) On 18th September, between 8 and 9 a m., I was on duty on the foreshore at Crawley's Wharf, East Greenwich, 30 or 40 feet from the wharf, and saw two men on the wharf with two barrels, which were hoisted by a crane on to the wharf out of my sight—I could not see who by—the two men ran away, and I gave chase along the shore and lost sight of them in Woolwich Road—I ran back to the wharf, and met Davis and Scott, and from what they said I went to the river front of the wharf, and heard something fall on the shore—I could not get there as the tide was up—Iran back to the wharf—gate, got over the gate, and saw the three prisoners—I looked over the front of the wharf to the shore and saw the two barrels—the tide was not all the way up; there were six or eight feet—I assisted in taking the prisoners to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The prisoners are father, son, and servant—when I first saw the two men who ran away, it was dead low water—the tide was just on the turn to run up.
HENRY DAWES (Thames Detective) On 18th September, about 9 o'clock, I was on duty about 30 yards from Crawley's wharf with Sergeant Scott on the foreshore in front of Union Wharf, and saw a barrel being hoisted by a crane on to Crawley's wharf, which is in the prisoners' occupation—we waited a short time and saw another hoisted up—we went to the land gate by a roundabout way, and I saw the younger Robinson outside the gate—he saw us and turned round as though going in again—I called to him "Charley, I want to come in," making for the gate, but he slammed it in our faces—I kicked, knocked, and shouted two or three times, and then looked through the fence—I saw him making towards where we had seen the barrels hoisted—I then got on top of the gate and saw the three prisoners and a younger son of Robinson's rolling a barrel on to the foreshore—I heard it fall, and directly after the other one was rolled and fell with a louder crash than the first—I jumped down inside the wharf, made to where the prisoners were, and saw the younger Robinson make to his right—Sergeant Scott said "I will stop him this way"—the others went to the left—I said "Charley, don't run away, I see what you have done;" he said "What do you mean? "I said "What about this transaction?" he made no answer, and continued to run till he got to where his father and Brixlager and the younger son were standing, and then his father said, "Don't say anything"—I said "I want to know something about this transaction; how do you account for those two barrels which I have seen you push over your wharf, which I had previously seen you hoist on to it?—the elder Robinson said "We know nothing about it, we have just finished loading the ship; you have made a mistake"—I went with them to the front of the wharf and said "There are the two barrels," pointing to them on the shore, "you must consider yourselves in custody till we make further inquiries"—one barrel was smashed to pieces, and the other whole, but covered with grease on one side—the tide was not up when they fell, but by the time we got there it had flowed all round them—at the station Robinson said 11 It would be impossible for any barrels to be hoisted on to my wharf without my knowledge"—a ship was being broken up on the foreshore, and a vessel was being loaded, and between the two was about 30 feet
SPACE—the wharf was in darkness, and it had bean shut up since 7o'clock.
Cross-examined. It was bright moonlight—Charles Robinson had something white in his hand, I do not know what, but afterwards he said that they were letters which he was going to post—Bixlager's hands were covered with mud—he is a servant—it is unusual for the wharf to be open between 8 and 9 o'clock, and men to be at work—it took us ten minutes to go round to the front of the wharf the way we went.
JAMES SCOTT (Thames Police Sergeant) On 18th September, about o'clock, I was with Davis on the foreshore near Crawley's wharf, and saw these barrels hoisted by the crane—we afterwards went to the wharf, and I saw Charles Robinson with two letters in his hand; he turned round and went in at the small wicket-gate—we were close to him and Sergeant Davis called out "I want to come in," but he slammed the gate in our faces—we got on the top of the gate, looked over, and saw the three prisoners throwing one of the barrels off the wharf on to the foreshore, and then they pushed another over—they had some difficulty, as there is a bar about a foot high and they had to raise it—we got down on to the wharf and went towards the prisoners—they separated; two of them went behind a stack of iron, and then Charles Robson ran to his right—I called "All right, I will stop him," but he stopped and went to where his father and Brixlager were—the sergeant said "What about this transaction?"—Charles Robinson said "What transaction?"—he said "Those barrels we have just seen you push over the wharf on to the foreshore"—we then went to the office; there was no light there when we entered—I said to the elder prisoner "You see the condition your clothes and hands are in"—he said "What of that? we have just been breaking up an old ship"—the younger prisoner's hands were covered with mud—I left the prisoners in Davis charge, went to the foreshore, and found one whole barrel and one smashed, and the fat coming out, and before I could secure them I was over my knees in water—we had just arrived when we saw the first barrel hoisted—I had passed at 7 o'clock and no one was at work then.
Cross-examined. There is a pillar box about 80 yards from the wharf gate; the younger prisoner was not going towards it, he was going towards Marlborough Street, and was in the middle of the road—he was not going towards the post-office—I did not look to see if the letters were stamped—I did not hear him say when I went into the office "These are the letters I have just written"—the outer gates are more than 9 feet high, you cannot see over, but I know they were not working at 7 because it is an open fence—the wharf is covered with timber and iron and glass bottles.
Re-examined. When I was on the foreshore at 7 o'clock I saw he loading or unloading of vessels.
ALFRED JOHN NICHOLLS . I am under foreman to Mr. Ween, of Deptford Creek—on 18th September, at 11 30, we loaded a punt with 40 casks of oleo margarine—I took a record of the marks on the casks—I handed over the punt to charles Thorrell at 1 o'clock—I afterwards saw at the station one full cask and a portion of another, and identified them *
of a lug boat and moored it head and stern—I then went to the other side of the river—I returned between 5 30 and 6 o'clock and missed two casks.
By the JURY. It was impossible for them to fall off the barge, as they were below the gunwale, and if they had, they would sink—the tide would set into this wharf, as it is lower down the river.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
1001. WILLIAM GILBERT (21) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William George Nott at Kingston-upon-Thames, and stealing a cash-box, one pair of sleeve-links, and 62l. 15s. in money, his property Second Count, feloniously receiving the same.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
MARTHA WILKINSON . I am the wife of William Wilkinson, a fish hawker—on 20th September I was living in Pitman Street, Camberwell—the prisoner came to me on that day—he told me that there were two detectives after him for breaking into the Cricketers Hotel at Kingston—I said "Did you do so?"—he said "Yes, I got in through the down stairs window and went upstairs into one room where there were two little children sleeping, and then I went into the front room where Mr. Nott and Mrs. Nott were sleeping, and I first found Mr. Nott's trousers and took 3l. 15s. from them, 3l. in gold and 15s. in silver, and a key from the other pocket"—he then said that he looked on a safe by the side of the bed and saw the cashbox with a brass candlestick on it, that he took the candlestick off and placed it underneath the bedstead, and then the baby woke up and Mrs. Nott got up to feed it with some condensed milk, and through the baby crying he was enabled to get out of the room without being heard—he told me he brought the cashbox down with him and got out through the w n low the same way that he got in, and crossed into the Fair field opposite—he said that he put as much money as he could into the leg of his trousers where his leg has been cut off, and that he got the money out of the cashbox and laid what was left in the Fair field with the cashbox, and then came away and met a police-man, who was very kindhearted, and who asked him what he did out at that time of night, and that he said he had been locked out of his lodgings, and the policeman told him to find the watchman, and he left Kingston by the quarter to 7 train in the morning; he said he had only 2d. with him then, and a bunch of flowers which he bought, and that the money which he put into his trousers he gave to a companion, and he had told the policeman that he got the money by pawning his waistcoat.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When you came to my house you asked me if I had the price of a pot of beer, as you had only got 2d—you told me that the detective had been to your lodgings, on suspicion of your breaking into the Cricketers Hotel—you did not say that Mr. Robinson, the detective, had been to your lodging and turned it over and could not find anything—I did not say "Mr. Robinson says that you know something about it, and I shall have to go down on Saturday"—I gave information
to the police—I have only known you 3 months—when Mr. Robinson said "You must come up on Saturday "I did not say "No, Saturday is a busy day, I shall be out of pocket"—I deny that I am hard up and have come here and said this on purpose to get paid, it is quite untrue.
EMMA NOTT . I am the wife of William Nott, who keeps the Cricketers public-house, Kingston-upon-Thames—on the night of the 13th September my husband and I went to bed leaving the house secure—I carried the cashbox up and put it on top of the safe in our bedroom—it contained between 60l. and 70l.—there was candlestick standing on the safe beside the cashbox, and I found it on the floor in the morning—the baby work up in the night, but I heard a faint noise before that—it was quite dark, but there was sufficient light for a person to see—the baby woke up between 1 and 2—I found the cashbox removed in the morning, and the window open which had been closed overnight.
Cross-examined. There were dirty finger marks on the window which was opened where some one had climbed in at the window.
ARTHUR FULLER (Detective Officer V) On September 21st I received information and went to the Camberwell Police-station, where I found the prisoner detained—I told him that I should arrest him on a charge of breaking into Mr. Nott's house—he said "I don't know where the Cricketers is, and was not near the Fair field; I was at Kingston three days looking for work, and I slept at a lodging-house each night"—a cashbox was given into my possession—I went to the Fair field at Kingston and searched, and found buried in the grass two half sovereigns and six sixpences.
Prisoner's Defence. My pockerts were all out, and they thought they would have me by saying that I put the money in the leg of my trousers I have been hard up, and do you think if I had all that money I should only give her 2d? It has all been planned against me on the quiet Mr. Wilkinson had been down to the Cricketers and heard all the particulars and told them to Mrs. Robson He told her that she would be 5l. better if she did.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a former conviction of felony at Wandsworth Police-court in April, 1888, when he was sentenced to three month's imprisonment, having then been several times previously convicted, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY **— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
ISAAC ELLEN . I am labourer, of 34, New Warwick Street, Blackfriars Road—I was in Boundary Road going home at 1 a m., four men spoke to me; the prisoner is one of them—they collared me and handled me roughly—they said "Let us get him round the corner"—they did so—I tried to get away, but they said "Down him"—they threw me down, two of knelt on my chest, and one kicked me—I shouted as loud as I could—one of the put his hand in my pocket and took out half-a-sovereign and four half-crowns, and turned my pocket inside out, and tore it—they all ran away, but a policeman brought the prisoner back in three minutes—I had not been in any public-house—I saw my money safe a quarter of an hour before—I am still suffering from the kick.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not call you to help me—you did not come and say "What is the matter?" nor did I ask you to give me a lift up.
JAMES AIKIN (Policeman L 79) I was coming out of Grey Street, and saw four men run out of Boundary Row—I got hold of the prisoner, and asked him why he was running—he said "We are having a lark n—he seemed inclined to resist me, but I took my truncheon out, and said "You will have to return with me"—he said "All right, "the other three walked away—when we got 100 yards I saw a hat and stick on the foot way—the prisoner said "The other three knocked a man down, and I ran away for fear I should get pinched"—I found Ellen leaning against a tree, and two gentlemen attending him—blood was flowing from each side of his cheeks, as if from the print of a thumb or forefinger—he said "That is one of them, I give him in charge; he done this"—I took him to the station—he said "Thank God the money was not found on me"—he resisted a little, and I had to threaten him.
Cross-examined. You did not say "Thank God I have only got 8d. on me, "but you had 8d.
Prisoner's Defence. I used no violence The constable had hold of the sleeve of my jacket, and here is where he tore it Both constables used their truncheons I am innocent.
GUILTY . — Twelve Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
MR. KEATING Prosecuted.
EDWARD PARTINGTON . I am a cheesemonger, of 9, Bride Terrace, Westminster—on 14th September, about 1 30 a m., I was in Lower Marsh, Lambeth, and the prisoner and a man caught hold of me, pulled me down, and the man got on top of me, and I felt somebody at my left-hand pocket—I called out "Police" four or five times, and Baker came—I am certain the prisoner is the woman—my pocket was torn eight inches here, three here, and three here—they were on me some time—I held the man some time, but he got away—I was not quite sober—the prisoner did not get out of my sight—I saw her taken about 20 yards off—I had 4l. 8s. 1 1/2 d. in my pocket.
Cross-examined. When I ran up to you you did not say "There they go round the corner," nor did you say "You have made a mistake, I will wait till a constable comes up.
HENRY BARKER (Policeman L 100) I was on duty, heard cries of "Police," and saw Partington; the prisoner and a man not in custody were leaning over him—when I got within five yards of them the man said something, and they both ran down Artichoke Court—I caught the prisoner and detained her till Partington came and charged her—his trousers pocket was torn six or eight inches, across the front—the prisoner said that he had made a mistake, it was not her, and she knew nothing about it—she gave her correct address at the station—I am sure she was leaning over the prosecutor—I never lost sight of her.
Prisoner's Defence. I heard somebody call out, turned to see what was the matter, and the prosecutor came up and charged me I know nothing of the man.
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington,
MR. TAYLOR Prosecuted.
ALFRED MARTIN BEATIE . I am a cashier at the Clapham Junction branch of the London and South Western Bank—on 22nd September, about 10 a.m. the prisoner came in and asked for a cheque-book for Smith and Co—I said "Have you an order"—and he said "They were in too much hurry to write it out" handing me one of their cards—I gave him a cheque book and he left—he returned in 2 hours and pre sented this cheque for 105l. 3s. 3d.—I consulted the manager and then cashed it and gave him eleven 5l. notes, five 10l. notes, and 2s. 3d. in cash—the cheque was the first in the book which I gave him that morning.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Messrs Smith have two accounts which are kept distinct—we are rather loose about cheque-books, and we did not insist on a written order—I had never seen you before.
HERBERT HENRY BREWER . I am manager of this bank—on 22nd September, about 12 a.m. Mr. Beatie spoke to me and I went with him to the counter, saw the prisoner, and said to him "I think this signature is not quite like our customers' usual signature"—he said "It was written in a hurry, and I have had a difficulty in cashing these cheques before on that account"—I gave directions for it to be cashed and communicated with Mr. Ackroyd.
Cross-examined. There is a slip of paper in our cheque-books for the purpose of applying for a fresh book—I had never seen you before, but have no doubt about you.
JOSEPH ACKROYD . I am head partner in the firm of Smith and Co—this is not my signature to this cheque—the prisoner was in our service, and was discharged on 8th September—a card like this (produced) may have been given to him while he was in our service, it is signed "George Moffat"—I did not send for this cheque-book, or instruct the prisoner to get it.
Cross-examined. No clerk or manager was sent by me to the bank for a blank cheque-book—I can swear that these figures are your wriring, and the writing is yours disguised—saw the police sergeant take all the notes from you and count them up, he referred to a list given by the bank, and they corresponded.
Re-examined. The writing on the cheque is very much like the prisoner's and I can swear to the figures.
WILLIAM BIGGS (Police Sergeant G) I went to the Bank and got a description of the prisoner, and went with Mr. Ackroyd to Finchley Railway station about 3 30 and arrested the prisoner coming from the Broad Street train and charged him with forging and uttering a cheque for 105l. 3s. 3d., he made no answer; I pushed him into the booking office and found 16l. in gold in his waistcoat pocket, and in an inside pocket 10 1l. Scotch notes, 11 5l. notes and two 10l. notes; the numbers of the 5l. notes corresponded with those taken from the Bank; I showed him the cheque and said this is the subject of the charge, he said, "You will have to prove that"—I put him with the other prisoners, about his own
build, at the station, and the cashier came and placed his hand on him without any hesitation.
Cross-examined. 101l. and some few pence were found on you and some clothing—three of the 10l., notes had been changed and you had bought clothing amounting to 3l.—altogether we made up 104l. 10s
The Prisoner called
ANNIE TILLEY . The prisoner lodged with my mother at Finchley Road—I saw him leave at 11 a.m. on the day he was arrested—he did not return and I did not see him again till he was in custody—I know it was 11 o'clock, our clock is a good timekeeper—he never left home till 11—is anyone says he was at the Bank at 10 o'clock, that must be a mistake—I was first asked to give evidence on October 11th and was asked to remember what time the prisoner left home on September 22nd—it was three weeks after that my attention was called to it.
LAURA LAUD I live in the next street to the prisoner; five minutes' walk from him—I do not remember the date; but on a Saturday, this day four weeks, I saw him leave home at a quarter to 11 and said good morning to him (The Prisoner had then been in gaol a week)
— GUILTY . — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ROBERT MULLER . I am a constable of the Surrey County Constabulary—on Tuesday, October 2nd, in the Course of my beat, I passed the farm known as East wick Farm, at Great Book ham—it is in the occupation of Mr. Hutchinson—everything there appeared all right; that was at five minutes past 11—about three or four, minutes after I passed I looked back, and saw two distinct fires at the farm, but I did not know exactly where they were at that time—I ran back to the farm, and when I got within 50 yards of the fire I saw both the prisoners inside the rick yard—Farley was close to the fence, and Grout was about two yards behind him running from the fire towards the fence which separates the road from the farm—Farley laid hands on the fence, and jumped over on to the high road—I tried to catch him, but missed him; I just touched his shoulder—he then ran in the direction of Fetcham—I ran after him some distance and found he ran so fast that I could not catch him, and I called out to him to stop—I said " Farley, it is no use your running away; I know who you are"—he said nothing in answer to that—I then returned to the farm buildings within four or five minutes and roused Mr. Hutchinson—I did not see any more of Grout, but when I missed Farley I went to the fence, and Grout was under the fence and I was outside—there was nothing but the fence between us—the fence is about 3 feet 6 inches high; it is half paling; there is no gate (A plan of the neighbourhood was here put in.) This is the road to Fetcham—the ricks are here, and the farm buildings are down below—the fire was among the barley here on the right-hand side, the other fire was in a straw stack in the rick yard, about 100 yards from the first fire—the two fires were about 100 yards apart; it is a very extensive yard—I roused Mr. Hutchinson and released some of the animals—I tried to to get the calves out, but could not, and they were burnt—when I
returned to the farm buildings after leaving Farley there was nobody else visible, and no one was in the yard—the fire kept on burning all night—a lot of persons came, and a fire engine—about half-past 12 o'clock I saw the prisoner Grout among the persons at the fire—he was then dressed differently to what he was when I saw him before—he was dressed the same as he is now—before the fire broke out that evening I saw Grout in Bookham Street about five minutes past 10 towards the corner of the Crown public-house—that is in an opposite direction to his home and about half a mile from the farm—he was walking down towards the Crown public-house; that is towards the hay-ricks——I know where he lives; this is the place (Pointing to the plan)—I had also seen both prisoners at a Primrose League meeting at Eastwick Park between 5 and 6 the same evening—there were a number of people there.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. When I first saw them I was four or five yards off the two men who I say were Farley and Grout—while I was running after Farley he was in the road—the man who I say was Grout was in the rick-yard—while I was running in the road he was running from the fire to the fence—whoever he was I did not see him come into the road at all—when he was on one side of the fence and I at the other we were 50 yards from the fire—I was doing my best to catch Farley, running as hard as I could after him, but after I missed him I went up to the fence—when I saw Grout at the fire at a quarter past 12 I did not see him do any work, but other men were working to put out the fire, and I did my best to put it out, but it burnt for a fortnight—I left at 5 on the same morning, Grout was then there—I did not take Grout when he was at the fire because we wanted to make sure of Farley, and I thought if I apprehended Grout, Farley would have run away, but if Farley had been there I should have apprehended the two of them—I never said a word to Grout, or attempted to take him, though he was with me for five hours, because I thought if I apprehended him Farley would run away.
Cross-examined. I am not speaking of the time when I saw Grout at the fire but later on—if I had apprehended Grout I expected that Farley would run away from the neighbourhood—I did not apprehend Farley at his house, I took him at 9 the next morning, and Grout at 1 o'clock—I had my bull's-eye with me and used it—when I first saw the prisoners I turned it on to both of them By the JURY. It was a star-light night.
ANDREW HUTCHINSON . I am a farmer, and occupy Eastwick Farm, Great Bookham, Surrey—the ricks and the buildings were all safe when I went to bed on the night of October 2nd—my first notice of the fire was when the constable called me up—I went to bed at 20 minutes before 10 o'clock or a little before that evening—the constable called me up a little after 11 o'clock—I found two distinct fires about 150, yards apart, one was in the straw rick, which was the produce of the year 1887—and the other in the barley shed, which I had just stored up from this harvest—the fires burnt for a long time, and there were four wheat ricks, two barley ricks, and three straw ricks consumed, and part of a clover stack of 1887—the value of the ricks was about 3,000l. of the farming produce, and in addition to that a number of buildings were burnt—three calves and four pigs were also burnt—I know the two prisoners
very well indeed—they have both been in my service, and Grout had been with me all the harvest, but he was not in my service on October 2nd, when we had nearly finished harvesting, he asked me if I had any objection to his leaving, that was a week or ten days before—I told him I had no objection whatever, he said that he had got a prospect of work—and I said "You can go because we have only a few days more and I owe you a day's work," and I paid him.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. We parted on the very best of terms—there had been no quarrel whatever—it is my custom to see things all right before going to bed—I was at the Primrose League that night, and I met the prisoners, the farm was all right then.
Re-examined. Farley was in my service last in 1887, at the latter end of the harvest—he has not worked for me this year at all.
By the COURT. I was on very agreeable terms with Farley—I have no knowledge of any grudge which any of my parishioners can have against me.
JAMES BATCHELOR . I am a builder; I understand drawing—I made the plan of Eastwick farm and the neighbourhood; I have got Grout's cottage marked on it—the distance in a straight line across the fields from Eastwick farm to Grout's cottage is about 800 yards.
By the JURY. There would be no difficulty in jumping over the fence here to get to his cottage—there are no hedges to cross, but he would have to cross two gardens—there are no large fences there.
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. A man leaving the Crown Inn to go to Grout's cottage would have to go by Brookham Street; he could go across, but only by getting over the fences—that is not uncommon in the country, but he would have rather a job; he could go round; there is no obligation to go by the high road.
Re-examined. I do not say that the shortest way for Grout to get home from the Crown would be round the back way instead of by Eastwick farm—it is not a nearer or a better way to go round by Eastwick farm; it was a long way out of his way.
ALFRED ATKINS . I am a labourer, of Great Bookham—on Tuesday evening, 2nd October, I saw both the prisoners in Great Bookham Street, outside the Crown Inn, at about 20 minutes past 10—Boxhalls was with us—Grout had a darkish coat on, but nothing else which he has on now, quite different—I walked from there to Eastwick Cottage; that is on the road to Eastwick farm from Bookham on the right hand side—I do not live at Eastwick Cottage—we did not all four walk there together, because James Boxhall turned off at Eastwick corner; that is before you come to Eastwick Cottage—neither of the prisoners said anything particular to me as we went along; they never said anything about any fire before we got to the cottage—Grout then said "We are going to have a fire at Eastwick Farm"—that was after Boxhall had left us; I am the only one who heard it—he said "I want you to watch"—that was in case anybody came, I suppose, but he did not say "To see if anybody comes."
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. I am sure Grout said that he was with me at the cottage—a policeman came to me the next evening—I did not see him before that—he did not tell me I had better take care or I might be charged as an accomplice.
Re-examined. It would take about 20 minutes to walk from Great
Bookham to Eastwick Cottage, and it was 10 30 when I left them at Eastwick Cottage.
JAMES BOXHALL . I am a labourer, of Great Bookham—on Tuesday evening, October 2nd, I was with the last witness at Bookham, and saw the prisoners at the Crown corner—I walked with them as far as Eastwick corner; that is before you come to Eastwick Cottage—neither of them said anything going along, but before we left, Farley said that they were going to Eastwick farm, but he did not say what for—they wanted me to go with them—I did not ask what for—I said "No, I am going home to bed"
WILLIAM WOODS . I am inspector of the County Constabulary—I apprehended the prisoner Farley at 9 a.m. on 3rd October at Effingham, two miles away from his house—I told him he was charged with setting fire to the farm buildings at Eastwick farm on the previous night; he replied "No, not me; I was at home and in bed at half-past 10 that night Who saw me set it on fire?"—I said 'You will hear more about it later on"—About 1 p.m. on the same day I apprehended Grout at Bookham; I told him he was charged with being concerned with Farley, who was in custody, in setting fire to the farm buildings at Eastwick farm on the previous night—he said "I was not there when it was set on fire, and I know nothing about it"
By the JURY. He used the term "when it was set on fire"—he said "I was at home and in bed a little after 10"
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE I charged him with setting fire to the stack—it was well known in the village before I took him in custody that some one had set fire to the stack—I saw Grout there at a quarter past 12, I left at half-past 3, and I saw him there then.
By the COURT. When I apprehended him he was at work as a brick layers' labourer building a cottage, but he had just left his work to go to his dinner, and had gone into his house, and I called him out; the cottage is next to his house—when I arrested Farley he was at work in a church—he is a labourer—he works with bricklayers.
Witnesses for Grout's Defence.
EDMUND GROUT . I am the brother of the prisoner Grout and live at Great Bookham in the same house as he does—on October 2nd, the night of the fire, I went to bed soon after ten minutes past 10—I slept in the same room as the prisoner Grout, and in the same bed—he was not in bed when I went to bed—I went to sleep directly, and cannot say as what time he came in—I never heard him come in; but I was awoke about 20 or 25 minutes past 11; my brothers woke me up, both of them, the one who is going to be called, and this one—we all slept in one room—the alarm of fire was given, and when I awoke, my brothers were both out of bed and dressing—my brother Thomas sleeps in a separate bed'—my brother Robert was putting on the clothes which he has on now—when I awoke he was putting his trousers on—I got up and went close behind them to the fire—I worked at the fire, and saw my brother there all the time working with pails putting the fire out, and my other brother too.
Cross-examined by MR. AVERY. When I went to bed my brother, the prisoner, was not at home—I have not the least idea at what time he came home—I never heard him come in and never do—he is always last—I sleep very well; his getting into bed seldom wakes me up—my
brother Thomas woke me up on this particular night, it was then about 20 or 25 minutes past 11—I know that because I have a watch in my room, and I looked at it—it was then between 11 25 and half-past, and I was dressed then—when I first saw my brother, the prisoner, he was putting on his working trousers—I saw him the same evening with his other clothes on—I never took notice where his other clothes were when I got up.
Re-examined. He had been to the Primrose demonstration, and that was the reason he put on his black clothes.
By the COURT. I saw him with black clothes on in the evening—he had his working clothes on early in the day, the same as he has now.
THOMAS GROUT . I am another brother of the prisoner Grout, and live in the same house, and sleep in the same room—I remember the 2nd of October, when the fire was, very well—I was awoke by two women, who came and gave the alarm—I awoke first; it was then 11 20—my brother Robert was then in bed and asleep; I woke him up, and my elder brother also—I was in bed by 10 o'clock and neither of them were in then—I dressed as quickly as I could and left the house about 25 minutes to 12—I worked at the fire, and both my brothers—I left the fire about 5 o'clock and my brother Robert went home with me—he had been working up to that time—I saw the constable there; he was working at the fire too, and plenty of other people.
Cross-examined. The women who woke me up were a couple of neighbours—they live in a cottage near, in the same row—they had not gone to bed—they knocked at my street door—we do not trouble about staircases at Bookham; we go up a ladder—I went to bed about 10 o'clock; my brother Edward, the witness, was not at home then nor this brother—I did not hear either of them come in—I go to sleep pretty quickly—I heard my brother say that he was in bed about 25 minutes past 10—it does not take me above five minutes to go to bed, but I cannot tell at what time I go to sleep—I never heard either of them come in—my brother Edward, the witness, wanted a little more rousing than my brother the prisoner—I am sure which I mean; it took me about a couple of minutes to rouse the witness Edward—I shook the prisoner three or four times and said "There is a fire," and ran to the window; he jumped out, and put on his clothes and went with me—he was in his shirt—his other clothes were lying on a box within a couple of feet—I know the time because I looked at my watch—I have not got it here, I have not brought it, as they are very apt to take them out in London; they are very light-fingered here—I carry it every day, I have had it three or four years—it has not been in the family for long—my brother has also got a watch; I did not look at that, I looked at my own, and it was then 20 minutes past 11, and half-past 11 I when I went away—I know Eastwick Cottage—it would take me a quarter of an hour to walk from Eastwick Cottage to my house, without hurrying—I should go round the road in that time, and I should not go past Eastwick Farm—if I was at Eastwick Cottage and wanted to get home I should not go by Eastwick Farm, I should go some distance and turn to the left at Eastwick corner.
Farley's Defence. I have to say that I was at home by a quarter past 10, and went to bed at 10 minutes to 11, when I went upstairs I was not near the fire at all.
the fence he was running from the fire to the fence; he was on the other side of the fence.
By the JURY. That is not in the direction of his own home, it is away from it—he was standing up, not stooping—the fence is 3 feet 6 inches high.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoners.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
JANE HABERFIELD . I am the prisoner's daughter, and lived with him in the Kennington Road—On the morning of 13th September, when I came down, he was standing leaning on the mantel piece—he had been very ill for some time—I said "Good morning"—he said very faintly "I am no better"—I had a cup of tea and was putting on my boots when he came behind me, as I thought to kiss me, he put his arm around my throat, and I felt something sharp—he has always been a most kind father to all of us, and never said a cross word—we never had a quarrel—a doctor came and attended to me; I am quite recovered.
Cross-examined. For 18 months he suffered great pain—he could not sleep—he has taken chloral regularly from the 29th April—he has always been a most kind father.
FRANK WILLIAM PARR . I am a surgeon, of 175, Kennington Road—I have known the prisoner for some time, and have attended him professionally—he has been decidedly of unsound mind for the last 18 months—he has delusions that he has reptiles and animals inside him—in my opinion he was not dangerous—I attended the daughter on 13th September—she had an incised wound 2¾ inches in length, 11/4 inch deep, it was a dangerous wound; she has quite recovered—I saw the prisoner, he said he had cut his daughter's throat with a razor, lie did not know what possessed him to do it, he had bought the razor for himself not for his daughter, he supposed it must have been the evil spirits in his sleep.
Cross-examined. Before he came to me as a patient he had consulted at least 20 other doctors—the chloral he had been taking for some time was a prescription he had from somebody else.
By the COURT. In my opinion at the time he did this act he was not responsible for his actions—I have not seen him since.
JOHN HUTCHTNS (Policeman L 18) I went to the prisoner's house on the morning of 13th September, and arrested him—I asked what was the matter—he said "I have cut my dear daughter's throat, I don't know "what possessed me to do so"—at the station he said "I bought the razor as I had evil spirits in my bowels, to cut them open with it.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am the doctor at the House of Detention—the risoner has been under my care since 13th September—I have had repeated interviews with him—he is better than he was, still I do not consider him safe now, he is subject to delusions.
GUILTY of the act but insane at the time. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. A METCALFE Prosecuted. MIRIAM ALLISON. I am the prisoner's wife; we lived at 123, New Road, Battersea—we have been married eighteen years—on and before 6th September, I was engaged at a factory of the Army and Navy Stores at Pimlico—I had left my husband a fortnight previously—on 6th September, about ten minutes to 9 in the morning, I was going to work •with Mrs. Vitty; as I was nearing the Array and Navy Stores my husband came in front of me with a chopper in his hand; he said "Have you said your prayers?"—he cut me about the side of the head with the chopper—I ran behind Mrs. Vitty and behind the office door—he came behind me and hit me on the back with the chopper two or three times—I fell on my back and lost consciousness—some body came to my assistance—when I came to I was in one of the lobbies of the Stores—my hand was terribly cut—I was attended by a doctor and taken to St. George's Hospital—I was there nearly four weeks—this is the bonnet I was wearing.
ELIZABETH VITTY . I am the wife of Thomas Vitty, of 107, Vincent Street, Westminster—I am employed as a shirtmaker at the Army and Navy Stores—on this morning I was with Mrs. Allison going to work, as we got near the Stores I saw the prisoner—I did not know him before—he had this hatchet in his hand—he struck her with it at the side of her head as she was on the step of the office door—I saw no more—I waited outside till I was called in and saw her sitting in the lavatory bleeding very much from the head.
Cross-examined. I was close by when the blow was struck—he crossed the road and ran behind me at her—she ran in and he after her.
WILLIAM ALLEN I am a clerk at the factory of the Army and Navy Stores—I was in the office on the morning of 6th September—I heard screaming in the outer office, and as I went to the door I met Mrs. Allison, followed by the prisoner with a hatchet in his hand, with which he struck her several times on the back and shoulder—I laid hold of him and begged him to leave off—he threatened that now he had got her he would do for her—I went to the door for assistance, when I returned the hatchet was broken and lying on the ground, and blood was running very fast from Mrs. Allison's head.
Cross-examined. The handle was whole when he was striking her—she did not lose her senses in the half-hour she laid in the office.
ALFRED WILLIAMS . I am timekeeper at the stores—I heard a scream and saw the prisoner with his hands up wrestling in front of the prosecutrix—I seized him and pulled him to the door and detained him till the constable arrived—he asked me if she was dead, and hoped she was dead he said "The b——cow got a man to fight me once before and got the worst of it, by Christ I will swing for her yet; if I have not done for her now, T will do for her yet"
Cross-examined. He was excited; he had been drinking, and in a sense of the word he was drunk.
WILLIAM JAMES (Policeman B 127) I was outside the stores, and was called—I went inside, and found the prisoner detained in a room—I saw Mrs. Allison in the lavatory sitting on a chair bleeding very much from the head—I helped to bathe her head—I sent for Dr. Pearce, the divisional surgeon—I asked the prisoner what he had done to the woman—he said "I struck her two or three times over the head with that," pointing to this axe—I asked how it was broken—he said by chopping his wife—he repeatedly asked if she was dead—he said "If it had not broke I should have killed her"
Cross-examined. When I came in it was all over—the prisoner had evidently been drinking; he was not drunk; he walked to the station without assistance—he asked me not to handle him—he said "I have been drinking heavily this morning, and I am sorry for it"
CHARLES PORTER (Police Inspector B) I received this hatchet from last witness—I charged the prisoner at the station—he said "That is right; I wish I had killed her"—this bonnet was lying on the table in the lavatory.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was apparently recovering from the effects of drink—he was in an excited condition—from inquiries I have made I find he is a fairly respectable man, but lately given to drink and quarrelling with his wife.
GEORGE PEARCE . I am divisional surgeon of the B Division of Police—I was sent for to the stores, and found Mrs. Allison in the lavatory supported in a chair bleeding profusely from a contused scalp wound, about two inches in length, penetrating to the bone—there was blood on the hatchet—she had a bruise on the hand as well as the wrist—I dressed the wound, and as it was a serious case I sent her to the hospital—I afterwards examined her at the hospital, and found marks of two bruises on the shoulder.
Cross-examined. I thought her life in danger at the time; the danger was from erysipelas—there was none, but that danger exists in almost all wounds.
GUILTY on Second Count. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
GUILTY of the attempt. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS POLAND and CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted.
MARY COWAN . I live at 73, New Kent Road—I have known the prisoner for the last six years—up to three years ago I lived with him at Manchester—I separated from him, and came to London, and have lived here ever since—I used to see him from time to time after we separated—on Saturday, 7th July, I was out with my sister, and met him at the Alfred's Head, London Road—we had some words; I threatened to hit
him—I said I would cut his face off with a glass—I left him there, and on Monday night, July 9th, about 8 o'clock, I saw him in the Prince of Wales, London Road—we had a quarrel—I had been living with somebody else—it was substantially my own fault—I went up to him, and called him foul names—he went out, and I followed him, and saw no more of him—about 12 30 the same night I saw him outside the Alfred's Head talking to a woman, and I went up and hit him on his face with my bag, and called him names—he hit at me two or three times in my back and chest—I did not see anything in his hand, but directly after wards I saw blood come from my chest—I walked a little way, and then fell—I don't remember anything more till I found myself in St. Thomas's Hospital—I was wearing this jacket and dolman (produced) at the time—there is a hole at the back of the shoulder and a cut in front, which were not there before he struck me—I was very bad for a time, but I feel all right now.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I followed you and waited for you, and called you foul names—you gave me no provocation—you were very good and kind to me while we were living together—I do not remember telling anybody that if I saw you with another woman I would so mark you that you would carry it to your grave—I do not want you to come back to me—I do not know why I annoyed you and abused you.
ELIZABETH JONES . I am the wife of Joseph Jones, and a sister of the prosecutrix—on 9th July, about 12 o'clock, I was with her in the London Road in a public-house, and saw the prisoner; we drank together—my sister was very annoying to him, and called him foul names, and followed him about everywhere—I left them at the public-house, and went home—I next saw my sister at the hospital—she was very tantalising to the prisoner; it was really her own fault.
Cross-examined. I saw my sister on the Sunday—she said she was going to look out for you on Monday night—she said she would throw the first thing at you that she could get—I entreated her to leave you alone, but she would not—she has been living with different men—she has given way to drink, and has been very violent.
KATE KNIGHT . I am single, and live at 130, Brick Lane, Lambeth—I was in St. George's Road on the morning of 10th July, I heard screams, and saw the prisoner and a man struggling together—I did not recognise the man—my sister, who was with me, said "What is the matter, my good woman?"—she said "Oh, I am stabbed, but I don't know where"
—the man said "There is a b——mare; she wants to say I stabbed her"—I saw no blow struck; the man walked away; the woman went staggering against the railings, bleeding considerably—the prisoner came up, and took her to the hospital in a cab.
ANN RUSSELL . I am the wife of Charles Russell, of 39, Gurney Street—I was at my sister's, the last witness, on the night, and heard screams, and saw a man and woman tustling—the man was something like the prisoner—I saw no blow struck—she was smothered with blood—he walked up the street, and she followed him in a very excited condition—
he turned, and said "Now, you b——mare, I will do for you"—the woman then fainted, and he went away.
GEORGE FLYNCH . I am a store-keeper, of Elliott's Row, St. George's Road—on Tuesday morning, 10th July, about 1 o'clock, I heard a woman screaming and a cry of "Murder"—I ran across and saw the prosecutrix
—she said "Stop him, he has tried to murder me," showing me her hands, which were covered with "blood—I went after the prisoner; he was about three yards in front of her, walking at a good pace—I said "Old chap, you have given her a doing"—he said "Yes, the b——cow, I think I have done for her this time"—I said "Do you know her?"—he said "Why, she is my wife; she started it first, she struck me in the face three times"—I said "Oh, that is different"—I went back to the woman, and he went away—he was very excited.
LEONARD ARTHUR BEDWELL . I am a surgeon of 34, Lea Terrace, Blackheath—on the morning of 10th July I was house surgeon at St. Thomas' Hospital; the prosecutrix was brought there with a deep incised wound on the right side of the chest, penetrating into the cavity of the chest, between 3 and 4 inches long and 1 inch deep or more, and another wound in her back behind the right shoulder blade an inch and a half long and half or three-quarters of an inch deep; there was considerable bleeding from the wound in front, a large artery was divided—she was in very great danger for some time—she remained in the hospital till September 3rd and after having recovered to some extent was allowed to go—her life was in danger till July 22nd—the wounds were such as a knife might inflict.
FRANCIS JONES (Policeman L 62) About 11.30 a.m. on July 11th I saw the prisoner in the London Road; I was in uniform and when he saw me he ran away; I ran after him, caught him and told him he would be charged with attempting to murder, he said that he had not attempted to murder anyone—when charged at the station he made no reply.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been subjected to great annoyance by the prosecutrix, whose habits were very intemperate, and that he pleaded guilty to assaulting her after great provocation.—
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding Recommended to mercy by the Jury.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Chester in January, 1887— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KEITH FRITH , with MR. HULTON, Prosecuted; MR. SUTHURST, with MR. CORRIE GRANT, Defended. EDGAR WOOLLEY. I live at 14, vendel Street, South Bermondsey—on 1st September, and prior to that date, I assisted my brother in his business as a draper, in High Street, Merton—the prisoner's daughter, Grace Young, was an assistant in the shop—she had been there over three years—I had been there three years last June—on 1st September, 1888, I was in bed—I was called up by Miss Kitson saying Mr. Young wished to see me; I dressed and went down to him—he asked me if I was going to marry his daughter, I said "I could not"—he asked me again, and I said "No"—he asked me a third time and I told him "I could not"—he immediately pointed a revolver at my face—the bullet struck my tie, and passed over my shoulder—I dodged away, this is the tie (produced in two pieces) I ran upstairs—half-way up I heard a second report, and felt a bullet strike my left thigh, and heard the remark "That has got him"—I was struck in the back—I went into my room till the doctor came—I was taken to Guy's Hospital, the police came.
Cross-examined. I managed my brother's business in his absence—there were two female assistants, Grace Young was there a little time
before me; she was nursemaid when I went—I was previously employed in the Essex Road, Islington, and some years back at Peter Robinson's—I left through complaint at the food and misbehaviour at the table—I did not have a character from the place, and did not ask for one—I paid addresses to Miss Harmer—she was in the family-way by me, and I married her last Tuesday week—I saw Grace Young on Monday in the Court; I have heard she has been confined—Mrs. Young came to see me about her daughter about three times—she did not ask me to marry her daughter—I told her I could not have two wives—Grace Young was aware I was engaged when I seduced her, not exactly at the time—I have not told Mrs. Young I was married, I have told Miss Young so when laughing and talking, I was not then married—Mr. Young said "Do you know what you have done to my daughter?"—I would not be positive what answer I made; I believe he said I had ruined her—he stood with his hands in his pockets, I stood with my hands in my trousers pockets, and leaning against the wall inside—he could have shot me through the brain if he had taken deliberate aim; Miss Gostank found this piece of the tie—it was not worn out, it had been worn—I noticed the condition of my tie when I got to my bedroom; I turned sideways and dodged backwards, the prisoner was rather excited—I don't think I took it coolly; I told Mrs. Young to take her daughter home and do the best she could for her.
Cross-examined. The bullet was at the foot of the stairs, and nearly facing the stairs, to the right going in—the tie was in the middle of the passage, about a yard from the bullet—I have lived at "Woolley's over a year—Edgar managed the business in his absence—I have known Grace Young about a year.
Cross-examined. I was present at the first interview between Mrs. Young and Edgar Woolley—I advised my brother to marry the girl—he said he could not as he was already married or engaged, or something to that effect—he led me to believe he was married—Grace Young has been in my employment about three years—at first she was a nursemaid, but she afterwards became an apprentice—I had known her friends as customers—she had 2s. a week as nursemaid—that was given up when she became an apprentice.
INSPECTOR SMITH. About 9 45 on 1st September, in consequence of information received, I went to Mr. Woolley's shop in High Street, Merton—Edgar Woolley made a statement to me—he was suffering from a bullet wound in the left thigh—part of his tie was on his neck—I took it off, the lower part of it and this bullet (produced) were given me by his brother.
Cross-examined. The doctor was present—Edgar was partly dressed—his trousers were thrown down—I made enquiries, and found the prisoner went to work and left at the proper time immediately after this happened—he lives in the same street as I do—he is a respectable working man—he has two sons and his daughter Grace.
HAROLD POWELL , M. D. I live at 68, Merton Road, Wimbledon—I was called to see the prosecutor on the 1st September between 8 and 8 30 a m—I examined him; I found a small contused wound a quarter to half an inch in diameter at the back of the higher part of the left thigh—the wound may have been caused by this bullet—I sent him to the hospital.
Cross-examined. The wound was not in a dangerous place—it was not serious.
JOHN DAVID CRUIKSHANK . I am surgeon dresser at Guy's Hospital—on 1st September I saw Edgar Woolley a little after 12 o'clock—I examined him in the surgery—he was suffering from a wound in the upper and outer part of the left thigh—it was a circular wound, from a quarter to half an inch in diameter—there was a hole in his trousers—the wound may have been occasioned by this bullet—I probed and got the bullet, but not through the original hole—there was contusion round the edge of the wound—it was not dangerous—he has not been in danger—the only danger that could arise would be from inflammation, which did not set in—these two bullets are the same size.
Cross-examined. I found no other wound.
JOHN BELLHAM (Policeman V R 38) I arrested the prisoner on 4th September, about 11 15, in the Rupert Road—I told him I should take him in custody for shooting at Edgar Woolley on Saturday morning, in High Street, Merton—he made no reply—I took him to the station.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate was that he used dummy bullets, and did not intend to kill, but only to frighten the prosecutor for the injury he had done his daughter and himself.
GUILTY . — To enter into his own recognisances for a year in 20l. to keep the peace.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS TORR and SENHOUSE Prosecuted GUILTY on the Second Count. — Five Days' Imprisonment.
MR. LYONS Prosecuted; MR. DE MICHELE Defended WILLIAM COOPER (Policeman Sergeant M.) About a quarter to 1 o'clock on 27th September, I was in the Southwark Bridge Road and saw a man, not the prisoner, standing at the corner of Market Street and the Westminster Bridge Road—I stood there about 10 minutes and saw the prosecutor's stable door opened, and the prisoner and another man led out a bay gelding and harness of which this is a portion—the man I first saw joined the other two—two other officers were with me—I caught hold of the prisoner, the other two men ran away, pursued by the other officers—I said "What are you doing with this horse?" he said "I am Mr. Pickett, of St. George's Market, this is my horse"—I said "I shall see about that"—I took it to the prosecutor's private door and called him up, and asked him if it was his horse, and he said yes—the prisoner was there—I took him to the station, the charge was read to him, he made no reply—I found a key, knife, and screwdriver on him
—I examined the stable door and found five marks on it corresponding with this instrument.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had hold of the horse's head—the other men got away—the stable door had been forced open—the prisoner's name is Pickett and the address he gave is correct—he has been known in that neighbourhood a number of years, I cannot say if he is respectable—we stopped the horse outside the stable door, about as far from the stable as I am from you, partly on the pavement and partly in the road—I know the other two men by reputation, I think they know something about the criminal classes—I have by hearsay heard things breathed against the prisoner before; nothing I can substantiate—no charge had been brought against him before that I know of.
GEORGE SIIAW . I am fruiterer of 216, Southwark Bridge Road—on the morning of 27th September I was called up by the police and found the policeman with the prisoner in my house—I charged the prisoner—the value of horse and harness was about 16l. 15s.—my stable door was locked.
Cross-examined. The door had been opened, the policeman fitted the screwdriver into five punctures in the door—I don't know if he had fitted it before I got there—it is a common sort of screwdriver—I have not lost my horse—the prisoner's wife came and asked me to try and settle it at the police court, and I said it was in the hands of the police—I have not said the prisoner was the victim or servant of the two men who got away or anything of the kind—I never saw him before.
SIDNEY KENDALL (Policeman M 124) I was with Sergeant Cooper—I have hoard his evidence; I corroborate it, with the exception of hearing what the prisoner said, because I ran after one of the other men—I saw the prisoner and another man come out of the stable with the horse The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY . — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MESSRS GEOGHEGAN and HUTTON Defended.
MARGARET IVATTS . I live at 6, Red Cross Street, Borough—on 22nd August I was in Lower Marsh, Lambeth, with Ellen Davis, about midnight or a few minutes past, when the prisoner took me by my waist and took me into Grove Place; he did not say anything; he tried to take me down in the dark but I would not go only a yard or two; it is a desolate place, very dark at the bottom, where this occurred; there was a light in a house, but I could get nobody to hear—when down the passage he put his hand under my clothes—he made use of obscene language * * * I struggled, he stabbed me under my clothes, I bled very much, I screamed out "I am stabbed," and he ran away across the road to a public-house, the Olive Branch, and I after him—I had left Ellen Davis in Lower Marsh about 3 yards from me; she got a policeman—when he came I was outside the public-house with this man—the prisoner went just inside the public-house—I told a gentleman "That man has stabbed me," and then the prisoner came out and the
policeman came up and took him—I did not know the prisoner before—I was perfectly sober and he was too to the best of my belief—I went to the station when the policeman took him in custody—I charged him—I was attended by Dr Farr—I was about a week in Bermondsey Infirmary—I came out and went into Lambeth Infirmary for a week.
Cross-examined. I went to Mr. Stroud's, a coal-merchant in Oakley Street, to a gentleman—I rented a place in Oakley Street, two doors from where I lived—I had never seen the prisoner before—he had not served me at Stroud's—Davis is not here—she gave her address to the Magistrate—I was going home with her to 8, Charles Street—I have had no fixed address since a gentleman left me, two or three days before this—the gentleman I lived with gave me a month's imprisonment for drink—the prisoner took a sharp instrument from his pocket and held it in his hand—I cannot say how long it was—I did not see it when we were down the dark passage, but I felt it—I was outside the Olive Branch with the prisoner a minute before the constable came—I told the prisoner I should charge him with stabbing me—he said "Not me, miss, I have got a mother of my own," and laughed—I never lost sight of him—he did not tell the constable it must be a mistake; he said he had just com from the Canterbury; that is over at 11 o'clock; it was a paltry excuse—I was down the dark place three or four minutes with him—it was very dark at the bottom—there was a light where I was.
Re-examined. The Canterbury closes before 12 o'clock—I first saw the prisoner about 12 o'clock—I did not lose sight of him from the time I felt the injury to the time I got to the public-house—the Canterbury is close to where this occurred.
MICHAEL DORAN (Policeman L 48) About 12 15 on the morning of 23rd August Ellen Davis spoke to me, and in consequence of what she said I went to the Olive Branch—I saw the prisoner standing outside—Davis in his presence said that he had stabbed Margaret Ivatts—I said "You will have to come to the station"—he said when I took him "I did not do it; I have just come from the Canterbury Music Hall"—at the station he was searched, and this knife was found on him just as it is now—it appears to be part of the blade of a dinner knife—the passage which the prosecutrix showed me is about 50 yards from the Olive Branch, which is about 10 minutes' walk from the Canterbury—the prosecutrix, the prisoner, and Davis were all sober.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me the woman must be mistaken—he said he had been to the Canterbury, and it could not be him—he gave his address at the station—I made inquiries of Mr. Stroud, of 60, Oakley Street, for whom he worked; I satisfied myself he is a respectable young man; nothing is known against him—the prosecutrix has been in trouble on three occasions—there were no blood stains on the knife, and no appearance of its having been wiped—the passage is rather dark as you first go into it—there is a lamp in the center—the prisoner has been in custody nine weeks.
FREDERICK WILLIAMFARR . I am surgeon to the L Division of Police—on the morning of 23rd August I examined the prosecutrix—I found her suffering from an incised wound 21/4 inches long and? inch deep in the centre, tapering at each end; it was 2 inches within the vagina—it was inflicted with some sharp instrument—this knife would cause such a would—a moderate degree of force would be necessary—I found no marks of blood on the knife.
Cross-examined. It would be a very difficult matter for that wound to be caused with this knife in the manner described.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The woman said she was a stranger; that is not so, as I have served her often She said she would swear it was me I can prove where I was when the constable arrested me When arrested I did not attempt to move, knowing my innocence"
Witness for the Defence JOHN JACOBS. I am a tailor, of 80, Oakley Street—I have known the prisoner since we were boys together—he worked for Stroud, coal and coke merchant—I was with him on this evening—we had been to the Canterbury Music Hall, where there was a benefit that night—we left at 10 minutes to 12, went straight down Westminster Bridge Road, and through Oakley Street, which is a turning to the right, and to the Olive Branch in Waterloo Road—it took us about a quarter of an hour to go from the Canterbury to the Olive Branch—neither of us went inside the Olive Branch; we stopped outside chatting a few minutes, and while doing so Doran came across the road with a woman—before he came up no other woman had spoken to the prisoner—Doran charged the prisoner with stabbing a woman—the prisoner said "I am ignorant of the charge; I am willing to go to the station as I am innocent"—I went with them to the station, and gave my name and address to the inspector, and told him that I was in his company the whole time, and that it could not be him—I left my address with the police to make inquiries—I was examined before the Magistrate on the prisoner's behalf—from the time I left the Canter bury with the prisoner at 11 50 till he was given into custody I did not leave his side—it is not true that he left with a woman, or put his arm round a woman's waist, and tried to pull her down Grove Place; I swear it is not true.
Cross-examined. Stroud has other assistants besides the prisoner—I live at 80, Oakley Place, on the other side to Stroud—I heard the prisoner say to the prosecutrix outside the public-house "I have got a mother of my own"—I am sure we left the Canterbury at 10 minutes to 12; I happened to look at the clock—I was at no time that evening in Lower Marsh—it is untrue to say that the prisoner was in Lower Marsh that night—when the constable came across the road with the other woman Ivatts was not standing with a little crowd outside the public-house—there might have been a few outside the public-house—I did not notice that Ivatts was standing with those young men—I did not hear any woman say to one of the young men "I have been stabbed"—neither I nor the prisoner went into the public-house before the constable came, or at all.
Re-examined. I am sure no woman spoke to the prisoner.
1015. FREDERICK CLARK (18) to forging and uttering a receipt for 2l. 11s. Also to embezzling 2l. 11s., the moneys of Sophia Williams, his mistress— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
1016. GEORGE HUMPHREYS (36) to stealing three postal-orders, the pro perty of William Booth, after a conviction of felony in November, 1878, in the name of James Edwards — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
1017. RICHARD STEVENS (24) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Mary Ann Sargeant, and stealing a jacket and other articles, after a conviction of felony in January, 1883— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. CRAWFORD Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended WILLIAM EDWARDS (Policeman W 401) Shortly after 3 o'clock on the morning of 18th September I was on duty in Cowthorpe Road, Wandsworth; it is a new road—I heard footsteps, and got into an unfinished house; when I had been there five or six minutes I saw a man, not the prisoner, coming along on the opposite side of the road; when he got opposite me he looked round to the prisoner, who was about 12 or 14 yards behind, and said "Come along, be quick, it is all right"—I stood quietly until the prisoner got opposite me, then I rushed out of the building to the prisoner, who threw off this bag from his right shoulder—it came against me, causing me to slightly stumble—the prisoner ran away following the other man—I blew my whistle, and chased them down Cowthorpe Road and across the Brooklyn Road—a South-Western Railway constable heard the whistle, and took up the chase—the prisoner, seeing the railway constable, ran into the doorway of the Brooklyn public house, where the railway constable seized him—I was about six yards behind the prisoner, I had not lost sight of him, I am positive he is the man—when I came up, I said "What have you got in that bag?"—he said "You have made a mistake, old man, it isn't me"—I said "Never mind a mistake, you will have to come along with me"—I took him back to where I saw him throw the bag down—I held him, the other witness laid hold of the bag, which contained a roll of serge, a roll of flannel, 12 pair of men's woollen socks, four pairs of lady's stockings—this jemmy fell out of the bag—a counterpane was found close by—he was perfectly sober—he was searched at the station, and I found 2s. 01/4d. in bronze loose in his right-hand trousers poeket, two pawn tickets, pencil, and knife—I subsequently searched the houses in the neighbourhood, and found the window of 6, Springfield Parade, open—that house is in the direction where the prisoner came from, and is on a bit of waste land not built on; it is a new estate opened for building purposes—I roused the owner of the house, and learnt a burglary had been committed—I have no doubt this is the man.
Cross-examined. Springfield Parade is 20 or 30 yards from the place where I first saw the prisoner—the waste land goes up to the back door of No 6—the prisoner came by way of the waste land—he was right opposite me on the other side of the road when I came out of the empty house—I said nothing to him then—I chased him 220 or 300 yards—I was about six yards off when the other constable apprehended him—I was within a yard of him when he started—I kept within three or four yards the whole distance—he said he knew nothing about it.
By the COURT. He quickened his pace after he was told by the other man; it was dark, there was no light on the estate; it was not so dark.
but that I could see prisoner—there was a moon—I never stopped running till I caught him.
Re-examined. He was just beside me, about a yard off, when he dropped the bag.
EDWIN VILLIS. I am a constable on the South Western Railway at Nine Elms—on 18th September, about 3 30 a m., I heard a whistle and on going out I saw two men running, chased by Edwards, who was a few yards behind the last man—I chased the men and apprehended the prisoner, who was the last one, he was about 5 yards behind the first, in the doorway of the Brooklyn Park public-house, Brooklyn Street—I saw him turn the corner—I said "You are one of them"—he said "I am not"—I said "You wait a minute and then we will see"—Edwards arrived at that moment—he said "You are the man that was carrying the bag"—the prisoner said "You have made a mistake, old man"—the other man escaped—I went down the Cowthorpe Road and found this bag—on lifting it up this jemmy fell out.
Cross-examined. The men came towards me and crossed to the other side—I followed them 30 yards, running—I was in uniform—the prisoner was running—I should think the other constable was a dozen yards at the outside from the prisoner when I apprehended him—day was just breaking, there was light enough for me to see, because of the dawn—I did not take notice if there was a bright moon—I saw Edwards running—I heard his whistle—I picked up this small crowbar on the spot where I first saw the two men running—there were about three or four yards between the two men as they ran.
CHARLES CARTER. I am a draper at 6, Springfield Parade, Wands worth—when I went to bed, about 11 30, on the night of 17th September, the house was properly secured—the kitchen window was secured with ordinary brass fastenings and the doors were locked—about 5 a m I was aroused by Edwards; on coming down stairs I found the kitchen window had been opened and the box of the lock had been taken off the kitchen door and off the door leading into the shop—the desk in the shop had been broken open and bronze coin to the value of 2s. 0¼d. taken; this roll of flannel, piece of serge, quilt, dozen pair of socks and four pairs of stockings are my property—the value of them is between 5l. and 6l.—after we returned from the police court we found a purse and 13s. 10d. was missing from the kitchen and three pipes and two pouches.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner; I am a stranger in the neighbourhood; it is a new shop
MAITLAND JAMES MILNER. I am the last witness's partner—on 17th September I left 2s. 01/4d. in coppers loose in the desk, which was secured—on the morning of the 18th we found the desk broken open, and the money taken.
Cross-examined. I had seen the money the night before—I do not know the prisoner.
JAMES GLOVER (Police Inspector) I examined 6, Springfield Parade, on 18th September—I found entrance had been effected by inserting an instrument, apparently of this kind, between the sashes of the kitchen window; there were marks corresponding with this chisel about the catch—by lilting up the sash there was room for a man to go through—I found a screw had been taken out of the bolt of the kitchen door leading into the passage, and also out of the door between the passage
and the shop—a small desk inside the shop had been broken open marks on the inside of the lid exactly corresponded with this screw driver.
Cross-examined. As far as I know the prisoner has never been is trouble before GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
1019. JOHN FINCH (40) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Frederick Johnson, and stealing three coats and other articles, the goods of Sylvester Pasquele, after a conviction of felony in October, 1873, in the name of Peter Parker— Twelve Months Sard labour.
1020. JAMES FULLER, THOMAS PENFOLD, and EDWARD STREET, Feloniously throwing stones at and upon the engines, carriages, and trucks using the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway, with intent to endanger the safety of persons in and upon them Second Count, with intent to obstruct the engines, carriages, and trucks
MR. LOPES Prosecuted; MR. BIRON Defended HENRY THOMAS. I am a signalman in the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company's service, and was stationed at Earlswood Station, in the borough of Reigate—on 1st August, between 8 and 9 p m., I was on duty in my signal-box, which is 10 or 12 feet from the Earlswood Bridge, which carries the highway over the line—the signal box is 8 or 10 feet higher than the parapet of the bridge—I had a full view of the parapet on that evening—about 8 o'clock I saw the three prisoners on the bridge; they were the only persons there; I am sure they are the persona—between 7 and 8 o'clock eight to a dozen trains passed under the bridge, and between 8 and 9 o'clock 13 or 14 passed under—about 8 30 a fast passenger train passed my box from Brighton, I believe—as that train went under the bridge, the prisoners leant over the parapet of the bridge, and as the train came towards them they, all three together, dropped tones on to it—I saw the stones drop, and when the engine smoke struck the bridge it stopped my view and I could not see what part of the train was hit—the stones appeared to hit the train; I do not see how they could avoid it, as they were dropped directly in front of it but I could not see it—the stones were dropped as the engine came towards them—the next train came up about eight or nine minutes after that—it was a fast train too, running between 30 and 40 miles an hour—as that passed under the bridge all the prisoners dropped a stone—I have been down at Earlswood about two months, and I know them well as being about there—I had twice before cautioned them as to throwing stones, the last time was about a fortnight or three weeks before—the engine-driver and stoker are partly covered where they stand, but if the stoker were stoking he would be under no pro tection from stones—if he were under cover there would be the danger of breaking the glass of the look-out lights, through which they look out for the signals.
Cross-examined. My signal-box is 8 or 12 feet, I should say, from the bridge, which is a wooden structure on four long posts—it faces on to the line, and is at right angles to the bridge—it has windows all round
except at the back part—we notice trains go past and come up as well, because we have to put the distance signal up as they come past—I was busy, but not exceedingly busy, on this evening—as soon as I have booked the trains I am on the look out again—I watch trains as they come down, and I note the time they go by at—the first train came by about half-past 8, I should say, when I saw the prisoners on the bridge; I cannot say the exact time—one train passed at 8 27—I am looking at the times the trains go by—I cannot tell you the exact time the train went by when the stones were dropped—it was between half-past 8 and 9; it might have been ten minutes to 9 or five minutes to 9; I cannot say—my memory is a little mixed—it was 1st August—I have had a little trouble between then and now; my wife has been confined—it was a beautiful night—I will swear it was not raining—there was a good deal of rain at that time of year, but this was a beautiful night—I was inside my signal-box when I saw the boys drop stones—there was no light inside my box at that time—the boys only dropped the stones over the bridge—I could only see indistinctly, because the smoke from the engine obstructed the view—the smoke did not obstruct the view till it got to the bridge—directly it got to the bridge the column of smoke came up—the boys dropped the stones just as the train got to them, as soon as the train got close to the bridge—it was travelling at So miles an hour, and going very quickly—when the train got to the bridge they dropped the stones—there would not be much smoke before the train got to the bridge, because of the smoke ascending—I have not had any complaint from any guard or engineman or stoker who passed under the bridge that day—I have not seen any driver or guard to speak to—I knew the prisoners by sight before this day; I did not know their names—these are the first I have seen drop stones, I swear that.
The Prisoner' Statements before the Magistrate Fuller says: "I do not wish to say anything "Penfold says: "As I was standing on the bridge that night a girl named Garwood came along Street took her round the shoulders, mistaking her for another girl Street spoke to the signalman, and the signalman to Street Whether there was any swearing I don't know I never spoke to the signalman There was never any train passed through while we were there, nor any luggage train on the Wednesday night Street says: "The case was trumped up by the signalman because he was interfering with business he had nothing whatever to do with"
The prisoners received good characters.
There was another indictment against the prisoners for a misdemeanour upon the same facts.
MR. LOPES offered no evidence NOT GUILTY.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 19TH, 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. cviii. Page Sentence