CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 19TH, 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.
SESSIONS I. TO VI.
STEVENS AND SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Including cases committed to this Court under Order in Council pursuant to the Winter Assize Act of 1879,
Held on Monday, November 19th, 1888, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JAMES WHITEHEAD , ESQ., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., Sir ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , Bart., M. P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the City; STUART KNILL , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., JOSEPH RENALS , Esq., 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.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WHITEHEAD, MAYOR. FIRST SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, November 19, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FRASER Prosecuted. MR. BESLEY Defended.
JAMES THOMAS ROSSITER . I am a solicitor, of 37, Coleman Street. On 18th June the prisoner called on me with Mr. Toll, who told me, in his presence, that the prisoner had a reversionary interest under the will of Mrs. Henrietta Frances Salter; this copy of the will was produced. Mr. Toll said that the prisoner's mother had a life interest, that she had two children who were entitled in reversion, viz., the prisoner and his sister, Mrs. Julia Wallington, that a Mr. Coulson had lent him £50 on mortgage, and, except as to that £50, it was free from incumbrance. Mr. Toll also said that Mr. Coulson had received a letter from the trustee, the prisoner's aunt, stating that she had received no notice of any charge or incumbrance, that the prisoner wished me to pay off Mr. Coulson and lend him a further sum—I asked the prisoner if these representations were correct—he said they were—I referred to the pencil notes on the copy of the will, and told him I should require a declaration in support of his statement—he said he would make it. On 20th June he came again, and I paid him £3 on the faith of these representations, and on the 21st I paid him £2. On the 23rd he came again with Mr. Toll—I think the statutory declaration was then made—my clerk went out with him to the commissioner, Mr. Hodson, and he executed the declaration and also the mortgage—the mortgage recites that I had paid off Coulson. On the 25th June the prisoner came again; I then paid him £5 by cheque
on the London and South-Western Bank—in pursuance of the arrangement with the prisoner I paid Coulson £63 4s. 7d.—the transfer of the mortgage was taken for it. On 26th June the prisoner and Toll came again to my office—he handed me the letter purporting to be written by the trustee, Mrs. Salter, to Coulson—letter read, 25th May, 1888: "Sir,—At the request of my nephew, I beg to inform you that I have already answered similar applications to yours to a Mr. Brassfield, but up to the present time have not received notice of any charge—the investment is in the names of trustees in Midland stock." I then said I would make a further advance, and I paid him £5 in cash and £36 15s. 5d. by this cheque—that is endorsed by the prisoner, and was paid by my bankers, on the same day the prisoner signed this account, showing that I had advanced him £135—I parted with that money on the representations made that he was entitled to the reversionary interest, free from incumbrance, except the £50, which I paid off—subsequently I attempted to give notice of my charge to the trustee, Mrs. Salter—I received a reply from her—in consequence of that I made certain inquiries—the result was I took these proceedings.
Cross-examined. I first took criminal proceedings about 9th August—there were several hearings—Mr. Timbrell was not a witness; he was before the Grand Jury at my request—I know nothing of a Mr. Callisher—I do not know that Messrs. Green and Cheese were Mr. Callisher's solicitors—the transaction with Green and Cheese was, I believe, on 9th October, 1879—I believe the prisoner came of age in October—I suppose Mr. Toll is an intermediary who gets money lent on security—I do not give him a commission on introductions; I suppose he has to get it from the borrowers—Mr. Toll is in Court—I have never called him as a witness—I have never charged him with conspiring with Mr. Brabazon; it is a difficult matter to prove—he was a client of mine four years ago—he was not a stranger when he came to me—I have not on many occasions advanced money when there has been a chance of costs for the offer of a mortgage—the writing of this paper is all mine except the signature; that is rather shaky—the £25 was given to him personally—I took a transfer of the mortgage from Coulson—as far as I know the prisoner's mother is alive—Mr. Toll told me afterwards that there was a reversionary interest under the will of the prisoner's great uncle, Mr. Middleton—I have not had many conversations with Mr. Toll when the prisoner was not present, not during the period when I lent the money—I did not have a long interview with him before I parted with my money—I had one or two interviews with him alone—he told me that he was being sued by creditors, and that he wanted a little money—I did not learn that a suit was commenced in Chancery by the prisoner against the executors of Cheese and Green—the body of the statutory declaration is in my clerk's writing—I do not think I shall have a good civil claim for the money I have advanced—assuming the document is set aside as to Mr. Green, I shall not be entitled to a shilling, because there are others before me—I don't think it would be worth while to proceed; I should not care to take a judgment, I don't think it would be worth anything—I don't know that I might have liked the mother to pay the money—it might have been nicer in the first instance—if the proceedings had not been commenced I should not have objected to take the money; I must wait till that time comes.
Re-examined. If I had seen any chance of getting the money by fair means I should not have thought of a prosecution—every shilling of the £135 was paid to the prisoner, except £50 12s. 7d. paid to Coulson and 12 guineas to Coulson's solicitor.
Cross-examined. Green and Cheese were solicitors—Callisher was never their client—we never acted for them, we have against them—Engel was never our client—I don't think Callisher introduced the prisoner to us—the prisoner told me he had £400 from Callisher on the day the deed was signed—after these proceedings were commenced a writ to cancel this document was served on me—the prisoner did not call from time to time to ask when he was to have his £400, nor did I or my partner to my knowledge tell him that I had been unable to negotiate it, and that he must consider the matter at an end; it was going on for some time—I was examined at the Police-court, and signed the depositions, and the thing was over—I did not come back to be cross-examined—I was not wanted—a long time after that I went away for my holiday in the usual way—I was never asked to be cross-examined—I have this paper signed by the prisoner to show that he had money of Callisher—it was handed to me by Callisher, to hold between the parties—this was not sued on, Callisher was to take the money out of the proceeds—the date of the bill is 14th October, 1879; that was the first I heard of it—from the year 1879 I took no proceedings for the prisoner against Callisher; I took no proceedings myself against the prisoner or on behalf of Callisher, there was no reason for any; nor on behalf of Engel—I did not act for Engel—there was no power of attorney to sell the property for £400; it is an assignment to Green for certain purposes—this is the cheque for £25; it is dated 24th October, 1879; it has been through my bankers; there is a receipt for it on the deed, no other would be required—the cheque is in my writing—I handed it to him; he executed the deed in my presence—I think he signed the back of the cheque at the bank—he did not give it back to me—neither Callisher nor Engel had it—I should think he cashed it at the bank—I did not cash it—a further sum of £5 was advanced to the prisoner on 5th November, 1879 by this cheque—I have a receipt for that cheque, because there was no receipt for it on the deed—the £5 cheque and the receipt for it are in my late partner's handwriting—they were not given in my presence—only the £5 on 5th November, and the receipt for it, and the bill for £400 were given in my presence—the two £5 and the bill of exchange which Callisher brought us were all in 1879—the bill of exchange had to be put in our possession to show money was owing; it has never been discounted—there was no occasion to sue the prisoner—the reversion of the property was sold by Green; the deed shows it—we got this assignment of the power of sale from the prisoner—Engel was not our client, he was a solicitor represented by another firm—the reversion was not put up to auction—the prisoner knew the thing was sold—I don't know when the reversion was sold, but he must have been several times at the office—he was sure to have known that all matters had come to an end—there was nothing for him to do; it would not have been right to ask him to sign
anything in order to perfect our title to Engel—the £400 was advanced by Callisher on statements made by the prisoner which turned out to be untrue—I was not present to see any money paid by Callisher—the prisoner was not my client—the reversion to £3000 on the death of a lady 56 years of age was worth more than that at the time on the prisoner's statements—it was not disposed of at the time without consultation—I sold it to Engel for £175—Engel must have paid the money—the balance was handed to Callisher; there is no. acknowledgement on the back by Callisher, we took the bill to dispose of—I cannot say now how much I gave Callisher, but it was the balance after deducting the £25—Callisher had £120, he lost £300—1 do not know that he did not lend his own money—I think there is only one Engel, he may have lent the money—I don't know if he lent it as a friend of Callisher—the whole thing was settled in 1880, when I settled with Callisher by giving him £125—the bill of exchange was handed to us—there was no necessity to write off that it was satisfied to the extent of £120—I did not act as solicitor for Callisher—I don't know if he introduced the young minor to me—I never acted for Engel, whether the money-lender or solicitor—we deducted our charges in the matter of Engel from the purchase money—we did not ask the prisoner to sign any deed confirming our sale to Engel, we could not do it, it would be absurd—the writ to set aside this deed was issued after the institution of the prosecution.
By the COURT. Nothing has come of it; it was 8 years after the transaction came to an end.
HAREY WELSH . I am a clerk in the employment of Beyfus and Beyfus, Solicitors, of Lincoln's Inn Fields—we were acting as solicitors for Mr. Engel—I produce this notice to the trustee, Miss Salter; it was sent in duplicate to her, and she sent it back with her signature on the back, saying she had received a true copy of it. (The notice was dated 23rd April, 1880.) Our firm are bringing a Chancery action in relation to the late Mr. Callisher's estate—he has been dead 2 or 3 years.
Cross-examined. Beyfus and Beyfus had some transactions with Engel and callisher; I don't know that they worked together—I have been with them 9 years; I only attend to Chancery matters—I don't know if my principals attend to money-lending matters—there is Mr. Albert Engel and Mr. Samuel Engel—I don't know about Mr. Callisher's business—the notice is one not to part with her share of the interest under the will except to Engel.
ARTHUR LAMBERT BARNES . I am clerk to Mr. Rossiter—on 23rd June I saw the prisoner at our office, and I handed him that declaration which has been put in—I told him to read it—I afterwards went with him to 62, Coleman Street, to Mr. Hodgson, a commissioner, before whom he declared in the usual form—I saw him sign it.
Cross-examined. I wrote it—I did not notice whether the prisoner read it or not—I did not read it to him—I told him to read it.
MR. TIMBRELL. I am a solicitor of 2, Church Court, Clement's Lane—in August last year the prisoner came to me, and I was instructed to act as his solicitor in the matter of this deed—the prisoner gave me this charge on the property, which I saw him sign—in respect of it I
advanced him at odd times £21—the prisoner represented that these interests were uncharged—I only lent him money for subsistence while I was obtaining a loan for him on the property.
Cross-examined. I acted as his solicitor from the middle of August till 5th November, 1887, I think—he was indebted to me £21—I have not asked him to execute a legal charge, this charge is perfectly valid—he undertakes to make a legal mortgage on being required to do so—I have not required him to do so, the charge is sufficient without it—I was not examined at the Police-court, I did not know there were proceedings—I went before the Grand Jury—the loan of £1,200 was to be on the two wills, the Salter and Middleton wills—I never heard the names of Callisher, or Engel, or Beyfus, or Green, or Cheese in the matter.
SAMUEL LYTHEL (Detective Sergeant, City). On the 8th August I arrested the prisoner, under a warrant for non-appearance to a summons, in a public-house in Stamford Road, Fulham—I told him who I was, and said, "I shall arrest you on a warrant; you did not appear to the summons yesterday"—he replied that he had been ill advised.
Cross-examined. The Alderman at Guildhall let him out on £20 bail.
GUILTY. —Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth and his having been led away by money-lenders and other people. To enter into his recognisance to appear for judgment.
2. GEORGE HENRY PLUMMER (33) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing whilst employed in the Post Office, two letters containing postal orders for the payment of 5s. each.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
3. WILLIAM HENRY WILLIAMS (54) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to unlawfully obtaining small sums of money from various persons by false pretences, and to a previous conviction of a like offence.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
5. STEPHEN JOHN HARBER (29) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to stealing whilst employed in the Post Office a bill of exchange for £87, also to four other indictments for stealing postal orders and forging endorsements on them and on the bill of exchange.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 19th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
JOHN BEGG (Policeman E'261). On November 1st, about 10 a. m., I saw the prisoner standing at the corner of Wellington Street, Strand; he moved away and I followed him to Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill and across Blackfriars Bridge into the Cross Keys, Blackfriars Road—he remained there half an hour—I waited till he came out, and followed him into Stamford Street and Waterloo Road, and across Waterloo Bridge into the Strand and then to Charing Cross Station, where he waited in the general waiting room till a quarter to 1, when a woman joined him—they
left together and went to Trafalgar Square and towards Leicester Square, where I lost sight of the woman—the prisoner returned by wav of Pall Mall to Duncannon Street, where he stood outside the Golden Cross Public-house till 20 minutes to 4, when he was again joined by the woman—they immediately left and went towards Trafalgar Square—she put her right hand under his coat-tail as if taking something out of his pocket; he then shook hands with her, and she went up St. Martin's Lane—I caught hold of the prisoner's wrist and said "I am a police officer, I shall search you on suspicion of having counterfeit coin in your possession"—he said nothing, but struggled very violently and endeavoured to get his hands into his overcoat pocket—two constables came and held his wrists, and I attempted to search him; he said, "You have made a mistake this time, I have got nothing with me."—I found in his right hip trousers pocket 3 counterfeit florins and 2 bent shillings wrapped up in separate packets in this paper (produced) with paper between each coin, and in his right trousers pocket 1s. and 5s. in bronze—I said, "I shall have to take you to Bow Street Police-station"—He said, "All right, Scotty, I am done. "
HERBERT LAWRENCE (Policeman A 726). On 1st November, about 4 o'clock, I was on duty in Trafalgar Square and saw Begg and the prisoner struggling—I took one wrist and another constable the other, and Begg said, "You have coins on you I believe, I shall search you"—he said, "You have made a mistake this time, I have got nothing on me"—I saw Begg take from the right hip pocket of his trousers two small paper parcels, one containing 3 florins and the other 2 shillings, counterfeit—Begg said, "I shall take you to Bow Street Police-station"—he said, "All right, Scotty, you have done me this time, you have not put them on me"—he said nothing when the charge was read over.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these 3 florins are counterfeit and 2 of them are from one mould—these 2 shillings are bad and from different moulds—they are wrapped in the usual manner.
Prisoner's Defence. I had been drinking for a day or two and this female came up and said, "Hold these things for me, I am in trouble"; I put them in my hip pocket and my hand was hardly out before the officer seized me. I did not know what they were.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of uttering counterfeit coin at this Court in February, 1885.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. HUTSON Defended,
JANE RANDELL . My husband is a carver and gilder of 30, St. James Market, Jermyn Street, and I keep a provision shop there—on September 19th about 12. 15 a. m. I was shutting up the shop and saw the prisoner come from St. James Market and go to a doorway 4 or 5 yards from my door and put something in a corner of a doorstep—he stood there 2 or 3 minutes, saw me and tied up his shoes—he had a pair of brown shoes on with pointed toes, and I noticed that he had long white shirt cuffs—he then went round the corner into Market Street, and I went to see what was there and found two packets of money—I opened one of them in my shop and found some bad florins, I did not count them, they had paper
between them—I had them in my hand just inside my door when the prisoner came back and went to the same doorway and then to the next, and looked and then went out of the Market—a policeman then came and the prisoner came back a third time and looked in all the doorways—I said "Have you lost anything?" he said, "Yes," and passed on looking in the doorways—he again left the-Market—the constable came and I showed him the two packets I had found, and described the man, and he afterwards brought the prisoner back in custody and said, "Is this the man?" I said yes—the prisoner said nothing—I handed the two packets to another constable, Jackson—there were three oil lamps in my shop window, my door was open and there were two street lamps, one at the end of the Market and the other 6 or 7 yards off—I have not the least doubt that the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. The two packets were separate—mine was the only shop open—the Whole thing took about ten minutes—I should be rather surprised to hear that he had boots on; they were brown yellow shoes—I think his cuffs were white with a light stripe—I told the constable that the prisoner had a white waistcoat on; I don't remember whether I said that he had striped cuffs or yellow shoes—I did not see anyone else about—when I said "Have you lost anything?" he answered me, and I saw his face, but he did not stop—he went up the Market placing his hands on his head—the constable and I were not together above two minutes—the constable said "Is this the man?" and I immediately said "Yes."
Re-examined. When he was taken I stayed in the shop; I had to finish shutting up—he looked at me while he was tying his bootlace.
EDWARD UNDERDOWN (Policeman C 309). On 19th September, about 12. 15 a. m., I was on duty, and Mrs. Randell spoke to me—I went into her shop and she showed me two packets—I examined the open one—it contained ten bad florins—she described a man, and I went out and met the prisoner at the corner of Martin and Market Streets, about 20 yards from the shops—I said I should take him in custody for placing counterfeit coin under a doorstep—he made no reply, but struggled—I took him to Mrs. Randell's shop and said, "Is this the man?"—she said, "Yes"—I took him to the station, where Jackson handed me these coins—the prisoner had on a white waistcoat, brown boots, a brown coat, and a brown hard felt hat—I saw the second packet opened at the station; it contained six half-crowns, wrapped separately in paper, and each coin folded over—I found on him four florins, a shilling and 3d. in silver, and 1s. 1 1/4 d. in bronze, all good—he was charged, and made no reply—he gave his address, 29, Osborne Street, but next morning at the Police-court he said 29, Oswin Street.
Cross-examined. He struggled very violently, and tried to put his legs between mine and throw me—I examined him at the station—he had boots on—if Mrs. Randell says that he had shoes on she has made a mistake—two or three men were about 10 yards off—I did not tell the Magistrate that the prisoner said "I do not know anything about it." (These words were in the witness's deposition.)
EDWARD JACKSON (Policeman C R 6). underdown called me—I went to Mrs. Randell's shop and she handed me two packets, which I took to the station and gave to Underdown—one was open and I opened the other—I found in one six bad half-crowns and in the other ten bad florins.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that seeing a man place something on a doorstep and walk away he went up to see if it was anything of value, but finding nothing went to the other end of the passage, and was taken in custody.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 20th, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted. FRANK GUY SENDELL . I am a plumber of 5, Bristow Street, New North Road—on 9th November at 10 minutes to I was going down Fleet Street and suddenly came to a crowd—I had to stop, I was surrounded—while standing there I all of a sudden felt a jerk at my waistcoat; I looked and saw the prisoner's hand go away from me and saw my chain swing—the prisoner was standing on my left; that was the side the hand came from—I said to him "You have got my watch;" he made no reply—he stood there—while I made this accusation against him I saw another man on my left and about a card from the prisoner stoop down, and go down Fleet Street in the direction of Charing Cross—the prisoner went in the other direction—he stooped down—I ran after him for 30 or 40 yards, caught him and gave him into custody.
CHARLES SMITH (City Policeman 485). I was on duty in Fleet Street on 9th November—the prosecutor gave the prisoner into my custody—the prisoner said "You have made a mistake"—I searched and found 6s. 1d. on him.
The prisoner in his defence said he was walking up Fleet Street when he heard aery of "Stop him," and ran, and that he came full butt into the prosecutor, who gave him into custody.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted; MR. EDMONDSON defended Myerson; MR. BRUSHFIELD defended Hunt.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. OVEREND Defended. GEORGE CARTER . I am a member of the firm of Hanson, Carter, and Co., Engineers, of Bradford—in July last the prisoner called on me to solicit an advertisement for a French publication; I gave him an order for the insertion of an advertisement to the amount of £2—he produced this document, which I signed for my firm—at the time I signed it there was written on it the sum of £2—since I signed it the 2 has been altered
into 12, and interlined the words have been added, "For 3 years, 1889, 1890,1891," in all £36—nothing was there except the £2 when I signed it—after some time I received a communication from Messrs. Morrison, and I communicated with them.
GEORGE MARJORAM . I am a bookkeeper in the employment of Messrs. Morrison, Advertisement Agents, 11, Queen Victoria Street—they are agents for a French Government Directory, and receive advertisements—the prisoner was a canvasser for advertisements in the employment of our firm; he was paid a commission of 30 per cent, on country orders—he furnished an account of the orders he received on a weekly sheet—that showed the orders and amounts, and the amount of commission he would be entitled to—in July I received from him this order and also this weekly sheet of August 2nd—in that weekly sheet Hanson, Carter and Co. 's order is treated as one of £12 for 3 years, amounting in all to £36; his commission on that at 30 per cent, was £74s.—it was in his handwriting—some time afterwards I communicated with Hanson, Carter, and Co., and heard from them on the subject—the prisoner remained in our employment till some time in October, when in consequence of inquiries about this and other matters steps were taken against him.
Cross-examined. The charge for advertisements in this Directory is stated as being at the rate of £24 a column, but that is not adhered to—it is not stated on any of our lithographed or printed invoices or papers that I know of, I don't think I have ever come across one—we have taken orders for half a column at £12—the prisoner could have taken one at that rate—his receipt-book might have been in the office for a month before we made a charge—this is his account—our sole reason for sending the invoice to Hanson, Carter and Co. was because they were new customers—we sent them the invoice.
GEORGE CARTER (Cross-examined). I saw the prisoner when he called about the middle of the day—I don't think I was very busy at the time—I don't know that anything occurred to interrupt our conversation—I did not ask him for any scale of charges for inserting the advertisement—he showed me a rough copy of the advertisement—he did not tell me it would equal half a column of this Directory—he might have told me that the charge for a column would be £24—he did not tell me in reference to my own advertisement that the charge for half a column would be £12, he might have mentioned that the charge for half a column would be £12, in giving the scale of charges for advertisement—I cannot say whether he did or not—he did not mention that sum after he had shown me an advertisement as a model for mine; I swear that—the form of advertisement was taken out of some other periodical that we advertised in, and he offered to insert it for £2—he wrote out this document with the figure £2—I saw him put the 2 on it; I was very close by him, by the desk where he wrote it—I read the form of order all through before the 2 was inserted—"Please insert our advertisement to occupy half a column" was not on it when I read it—"Please insert our advertisement" is in print, and. the rest is in writing—when he had filled the order up he gave it to me to read; these words" As per matter, as bold as possible," were on it then—that was his suggestion—I swear the words "half column" were not on it when he gave it to me; nor were the words "for three years"—my order has not been declined by Morrison and Co., nothing further has been said about it.
Re-examined. I was communicated with, and I let the prosecutors know what had happened.
GUILTY . — Nine Months' Hard Labour. There were other indictments against the prisoner for similar offences.
MR. LOWE Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. PASSES TODD . I live at 42, Mild-may Grove, Islington—I have known the prisoner for some years as a builder living in the neighbourhood—on 10th February he came and asked me to lend him a little money, as he was running short—I said I could not unless he gave me some security—he said he would give me a receipt for a quarter's rent for some property that he had at 167, Riversdale Road, due to him by Mr. Malony, a tailor, on 25th March next, and he gave me this letter from Malony, to say that he would pay it to me—relying upon that I gave him a cheque for £5, which he endorsed, and also signed the receipt for £6. On the 21st he came again, and stated that he had another tenant, Mr. Fletcher, a shoemaker next door to Malony, who would pay me his quarter's rent if I would lend him £7 10 s.—I gave him this cheque for the amount, and he signed and gave me this receipt—soon after 25th March I saw Malony—I did not get the rent—I have not been paid a penny—I believe this letter is the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. I lent him the money to oblige him—I am not in the habit of lending money—I have done so sometimes; I generally take security—I knew this letter was a forgery a day or two after the 25th March—Mr. Ladbury appeared for me at the Police-court, not Mr. Jonas—he did not act for me as my solicitor there; he was there—he helped me to draw up the information—I met the prisoner in the street several times—the matter went on till September—I told him if he did not pay me I should take proceedings, and he laughed at me—I can scarcely say why I did not take proceedings before—I went to Mr. Chapman, the prisoner's solicitor, in October, to have the matter explained—I have never been in the witness-box before.
Re-examined. I took a bill for £22 10 s. of the prisoner as an additional security—I have no solicitor in this matter—Messrs. Harding and Co. are not my solicitors.
WILLIAM MALONY . I am a tailor, of 167, Riversdale Road—I did not write this letter—Mr. Charles Elliott is my landlord, not the prisoner—I do not owe him any rent—he was my landlord for 4 months—I have been there 18 months.
Cross-examined. I don't know that he built these houses—he told me he had mortgaged them to Mr. Elliott—this letter does not resemble my handwriting.
W. FLETCHER. I live at 159, Riversdale Road—the prisoner is not my landlord—I did not owe him any rent in March.
NOT GUILTY .
Villas—at half-past 1 in the morning of 10th November I was in bed with my wife—she awoke me and said something to me—I went downstairs and searched the dining and drawing rooms—I saw no one there—I then opened the door leading to the basement—it was looked—I saw some chips of wood, a handkerchief, a knife, and saw an attempt had been made to cut through the panel of the door—I shut and locked the door and went to the front door, and called "Police," and two came—I came back to the house and met the prisoner in the street; he was taken into custody—I afterwards went into the nursery—I found the window broken, the latch turned back, and the shutters forced off the hinges—I saw the prisoner searched at the station, and this white pocket-handkerchief found—it belongs to one of the children, the name of the child is on it.
HESTER BURRELL . I am the prosecutor's wife. In the early morning of 10th November I heard a noise—I spoke to my husband and he went downstairs—this handkerchief belongs to my child—I marked it myself.
THOMAS CLARK (Policeman X 256). On 10th November I was on duty in company with 78, and heard police called—I went to the prosecutor's house—as I turned into Aldricdge Road I met the prisoner about three doors from the house—I stopped him and asked where he came from—he said "I have just come away from Notting Hill"—I took him back to the house and left him in charge of 78 while I went downstairs—I saw that the glass of the window was broken, and found this piece of tile with which it was broken—I found this red handkerchief on the top of the stairs—I found a table-knife, it is one belonging to the house—I found this white handkerchief in the prisoner's breast-pocket, and a piece of candle, a box of matches, and 9 pawn-tickets—he gave an address, but I could not hear anything of him.
Prisoner's Defence. I was drinking with a friend late that night—I picked up the handkerchief before I got to the door.
GUILTY . — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 20th, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
16. ERNEST CHAPMAN (28) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to unlawfully making certain false entries in a book of Frank Blofield, his master, who recommended him to mercy. Twenty Months' Hard Labour. And
(17). GEORGE BARTLETT (36) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to stealing a silver mace, a shell, and other articles from the Church of St. Pancras, and afterwards breaking out of the same, having been convicted of a like offence at this Court in September, 1887. Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. H. AVERY and MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CARTER . I am barman at the Green Gate, Bethnal Green. On 26th October, about 4.50 p. m., I served a woman with two of gin and bitters; she put a penny on the counter, a florin on that, and a halfpenny on that; she then picked up the florin, offered the 1 1/2 d., and felt in the pocket of her apron, saying "I have got no more money, you must take
it out of that," and put down the florin—I picked it up, bit it, found it was bad, threw it on the counter, and said, "Do you know this is a bad one?"—she picked it up, looked at it, put it down on the counter, and told me to make it three halfpennyworth of drink, which I did, and she left—I followed her, and saw her join Warren and Morris. (See next case.) Edwards is the woman—they conversed together and walked together to Brick Lane—Warren and Edwards went into Mr. Rouse's, a linendraper's in Bethnal Green Road; they came out and joined Morris, who was standing at the corner of Gibraltar Walk, watching—I went into the shop and spoke to Davey, who showed me a bad florin—we both came out, and I put him behind Morris, while I followed Warren and Edwards down Brick Lane, where a constable took Warren—he struggled violently, and threw the constable on his back—Edwards and Morris went in different directions—on November 1st I picked out Edwards from a number of women, and on the Sunday following I picked out Morris from among a number of men—he at first caused me to be doubtful, as he drew himself up to such a height while he stood in the row, but when I saw him walk I identified him—he limped.
Cross-examined. The constable did not say, "Pick out that man in the guernsey," or I should have done so.
EDWARD WEAVER . I am a fishmonger, of 44, White Street—I was in the Green Gate, and saw Edwards come in—she put a florin on the counter with some coppers, and the barman said it was bad—I thought he might have made a mistake, and asked her to let me look at it—I took it out of her hand and bent it with my teeth—my teeth sank into it—I did not ring it; it was light, and was a very bad one.
ARTHUR DAVY . I am assistant to J. L. Rouse, a Linendraper, of 174, Bethnal Green Road—On 26th October, about a quarter to 5, Edwards and Warren came in, and Edwards asked for a yard of flannel, the cheapest I had got—I gave it to her, and Warren put down this florin (produced)—I gave him two sixpences and 4 d. in change, and they left—Carter came in, and I showed him the florin, which was still in my hand—we went out together, and I saw Warren and Edwards walking away—Carter pointed out Morris to me, standing alone at the corner of Gibraltar Walk, opposite our shop—he walked away and I followed him—he joined the other two at the Corner of Brick Lane, and I saw them passing something from one to the other—I pointed Warren out to a constable, who he threw on the ground and kicked him when he was down—on the Monday morning I picked Morris out from a number of other men.
Cross-examined. You had not the same clothes then as you have now—you had a dark coat, not a white jacket—you had a dark blue peak cap.
JOHN BRADSHAW (Policeman H 201) On 26th October I was on duty in Bethnal Green Road, about 4.40 p. m.—Davy pointed out the three prisoners to me—I followed them about 20 yards, tapped Warren on the shoulder and said, "I am going to take you in custody for uttering counterfeit coin"—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "I don't think so; you will have to come to the station"—I caught hold of his coat sleeve—he said, "Loose my coat"—I said "I will not"—he struck me on my arm and knocked my hand away, I grabbed him by the collar; he threw his legs round me, and we both went to the ground—he then punched my face and kicked my legs—I had a large contusion—a trades
man came and blew my whistle—303 H came up—Warren was then holding me by my neck—he made Warren let go, and he was taken to the station, where I found on him 5 s., 3 sixpences, and 1s. 4d. in bronze, good money, and a bad florin—the charge was read over to him, and he said "It is a mistake"—Morris and Edwards escaped.
WILLIAM BARTON (Policeman H 303). On 26th October I was off duty and in plain clothes—I heard a whistle and saw a crowd—I forced my way through, and saw Warren holding Bradshaw by his throat—I got him by the arm, another constable assisted me, and we got him to the station. On 3rd November I took Morris on another charge; and on Sunday, November 4th, Carter came to the station and picked him out from a number of other men—he hesitated at first, and said, "I have a doubt of one man, and I will not swear to any man there, "but directly Morris attempted to move, Carter said that he was the man—he limps very much when walking—Davey came to the station next day, and identified Morris from among a number of other men without any doubt—Morris was not told of the charge of uttering, till he was identified, and then he said, "You are getting it up for me"—on the Monday morning he was charged with uttering, he said nothing.
Prisoner's Defence. I may have passed the other prisoners going along, but I do not know them.
GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.
WILLIAM TUBBELL (Prison Warder). I produce a certificate. (Read—Central Criminal Court, George Morris convicted January 11th, 1886, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin twice on the same day. Sentence—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.) I cannot say that I was in Court, but he was under my charge in prison, and I understood that it was in reference to coining.
Cross-examined. All I can swear is that Humphreys got out the certificate of a man who was sentenced in January, 1886—I do not profess to prove your conviction.
The PRISONER stated that he had been convicted of uttering counterfeit coin, but that it was in 1865, and the Warder Humphreys not being present, the COMMON SERJEANT considered that the previous conviction was not provtd.
—NOT GUILTY of the previous conviction.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
Cross-examined by Warren. I did not see you in my house.
Cross-examined by Edwards. A young man in the bar did not give you a halfpenny.
EDWARD WEAVEB, ARTHUR DAVEY, JOHN BRADSHAW, JOHN DENNIS, WILLIAM BABTON , and WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER, assented to their former evidence. Warren, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence,
said that he was not in Bethnal Green Road at all, but that the constable threw him down and nearly throttled him, and that he was kicked twice
Edwards' defence. The gentleman gave me the coin back, and I threw it away.
GUILTY . —WARREN Twelve Months' Hard Labour; EDWARDS Nine Months' Hard Labour; MORRIS (See page 31).
MR. STEPHENSON Prosecuted; MR. WILKINSON Defended. FREDERICK WILLIAM MASON . I am a tea merchant, of 41, Great Tower Street—in August I took the prisoner into my employ as traveller—on 25th August he said he had received orders from Mr. Nix and Mr. Smith, and gave me this paper in his writing, "Josiah Nix, 1/2 chest of tea at 2 s. 1d.; Mr. Smith, Olinda Road, 16 s. 6 d. Try and beat W. and D."—W. and D. are other tea merchants—I never give out tea without a written order—it was then and there entered in the order-book—this yellow paper (produced) is the kind of paper I put my tea in—this came from my place, and this is my warehouse clerk's writing on it—the prisoner said that as Smith lived so near him he could deliver it by hand—it was handed to him, but I don't think he took it away with him—on the following Saturday I gave him his commission on it, 9 d.
Cross-examined. He did not take it away, and I ordered it to be sent to his house for delivery, as he lived so close and the address was indefinite, "Smith, a general shop, Olinda Road"—he requested me to send it to him—I did so, and wrote him this letter. (Requesting the prisoner to deliver the tea)—"Try and beat W. and D." means that if I beat them I should probably get orders from Smith—Mrs. Torring deals with me—this tea was not sent to him and sold to her for 9 s. after Smith refused it—I cannot tell what becomes of a parcel after it leaves my office—I know that 9 s. was collected from Mrs. Torring, but it was not paid to me—Mrs. Warland called on me two or three times early in October with a list which I had provided—she mentioned £4 odd, and asked if I would take it and put an end to the whole matter—I said "Decidedly not, you may leave it if you like, but I can make no conditions whatever"—I engaged Warland's stepdaughter on September 7th, as he asked me to do so—she came again to my warehouse on the 8th, but never came again, and on the Monday I sent a telegram asking why she had not come—the prisoner told me that she was ill—I do not know what made her ill—my telegram on the 10th was" Hetty not arrived"—I had returned home with her a part of the way when she came on the 7th; I had promised her father that I would do so—she was never in my private room—I took her out to lunch, and she told her father I treated her well—we went round by Bow—I had very good reasons for going that way—I did not go to Stamford Hill, I went to Hackney—it did not make three minutes' difference—we were in a first-class carriage—I think there were other people in the carriage, but not the whole way—she came the next day, Saturday—I did not give her a kiss—I acted in no way wrongfully to her—I live at Clapton, a long way from Stamford Hill—she met me on the Saturday morning at the station—I told her the train I was going by, and if she liked to go that way she could, if she was at all nervous—I took a first-class ticket for her; that was about twenty
. minutes to 9 a. m.—that is my station, unless I go by omnibus—I did not at night accompany her in the train again—I never saw her after two o'clock on Saturday—in the morning going to the warehouse I was not alone with her again in the train—I did not take her on my knee and kiss her, and behave in a grossly indecent manner with her—there is not a word of truth in it, the carriage was full of people—a charge of indecent assault was not made against me before I made this charge against the prisoner, nor was a solicitor consulted as to prosecuting me criminally, I wish he had been—I invited the prosecution, but it never came—Mr. Sills came to my house—I gave him his quietus, and he never came near me again after what I told him—I told the girl by what train I should go to the warehouse—the prisoner said that she was very nervous, and did not know her way about the City; and I said that I would look after her; and I saw her well on her way home, and said, "If you are not able to find your way to the office, do you think you can on Saturday morning, here is sixpence to pay your train fare"—I told her the best way to go, and said, "If you think you will not be able to find your way, I invariably go to the office from Clapton Station; I shall be there at 8. 30," and she was there—I don't know her age—she looks about 15—I engaged her as a packer, only as a little assistance to her father—he brought her to the office on the Friday morning—on the Saturday after-noon, going home, I took a Hansom's cab for the prisoner, the stepdaughter, and myself—I did not travel alone in the cab with the girl, only for two minutes while her stepfather jumped out to go into a customer's shop—I do not know that this is the reason why the girl did not return to me after the 8th. I have only gathered it since as an excuse—I attribute that excuse to the prisoner; it was at his importunity that I employed her—I did not know why she kept away, and I was very anxious to find out, and I found it out three weeks afterwards—I have not had a little experience in charges of this sort—I was a member of the Salvation" Army "eighteen months ago, but am not now—I was not turned out; I resigned honourably—a meeting was not held to consider my conduct towards females—Rose Anna Penny was a servant of mine, but no inquiry was made by the officers of the Salvation "Army" into my conduct in reference to her, nor was I in consequence dismissed—I was not prohibited from appearing or speaking on the Salvation" Army "platforms—I have reason to believe that Rose has had a child.
Re-examined. I am not the father of Rose's child—no affiliation summons has been served on me—I called on the prisoner to ask for the money before I heard one word about this behaviour to his stepdaughter—I have not been charged with any indecency on September 8—they gave a different date before; the 15th—she had left my service then—the mother called on me, and offered to pay for the prisoner's defalcations, including money lent, bringing a paper with her—she did not say a word about ner daughter.
Cross-examined. He called on me for orders about that date—I have known him about five months—he tried to get orders from me.
asked me for an order—he called again to know how we liked the tea, but it had not arrived, and he said that he was very much annoyed—I said, "We are out of tea"—he said, "I will go to the City and get you some tea; how much should you like"?—I said, "4 to 6 lbs."—he turned to go, and then said, "Oh, by the bye, I think I have 6 1bs. at home which will suit you"—it was to be 1d. per 1b. cheaper on condition that I paid him money down—he brought the 6 lbs. in the evening in this bag, and my husband paid him 7s. 6d. in my presence, and asked him for a receipt, but he edged out of it—I know that—he was a traveller for Mr. Mason.
JOSEPH JAPPER . I am clerk to Mr. Mason. On 25th August I put this tea in this paper for Mr. Smith; this is my writing on it—I prepared an invoice and handed the tea to the prisoner in Mr. Mason's presence.
JAMES SMITH (Detective Officer). On 15th October, about 10 p. m., I took the prisoner on a warrantand found this paper in his pocket—(Read "This was meant for Smith, and the parcel of tea was 6 lbs. at 1s. 4d.")
F.W.MASON (Re-examined). I believe this paper to be the prisoner's writing—I never got payment for these 6 lbs. of tea.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether the prisoner's wife offered it to me included in the £413s. 4d., because she submitted no list—she offered me the money on conditions which I would not listen to, and therefore she left—she had not been to me before to offer me money—I don't think she was ever in my house before.
By the COURT. She offered it to me on October 26th, some weeks after the occurrence—we applied for a warrant on September 26th, and the prisoner could not be found; he had absconded—on October 4th I learnt by letter from my solicitor, Mr. Morris, that £413s. 4d. was paid to him on October 3rd.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. RIBTON for the prosecution offered no evidence on the Inquisition, the Grand Jury having ignored the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. POLAND and MEAD Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL defended Lay.
GEORGE QUINNEY . I am a fishmonger, of 43, St. Ann's Road, Notting-dale—On Saturday, 20th October, about half-past 10 at night, Marshall (who goes by the name of Scotty) and his wife Were in my shop—Patten came in about 5 minutes afterwards—he said something to Marshall's wife, which I did not hear—a quarrel took place between them, and I ordered them out—they came in again in about a quarter of an hour—Patten seemed all right, he took up his fish and went out; he was not sober—Marshall appeared to be sober.
Cross-examined by Marshall. When you came in the second time I said I would not allow any fighting in the shop—they began to growl again—you all went out together—you came back again in about 10 minutes with your wife and finished your supper—I sell cooked fish.
DAVID BRAYBROOK . I am a greengrocer's assistant at 3, Bangor Street, Notting-dale, right opposite Quinney's—I was in the shop on 20th October, about 11—I heard shouting across the road, and I saw Marshall and Patten fighting—there were a few people round—I saw Patten on the pavement—I could not say whether he was knocked down or whether he stumbled—he got up and wanted to fight again, but a constable came up and parted them—Patten then went towards Crescent Street—I did not notice that he was injured—I saw no more of him—Marshall went into the fish shop.
WILLIAM HENRY BOND . I live with my father at 45, St. Ann's Road; he keeps the ale stores there—on Saturday, 20th October, I was outside the shop, which is next door to Mr. Quinney—about 11 o'clock I saw Marshall having a struggle with Patten, and Patten fell in the gutter, and when he was there Marshall kicked him on the back of the head and punched him—I was close against them—Patten got up and went across to the Red Lion—a policeman went in and ordered him out—he then went into the fish shop, got some fish, and went across to Crescent Street, and I saw no more of him—I noticed some blood on the back of his head—before they began to fight I heard Marshall say, "Come on, I will fight you now I have got you"—I did not see how the fight began.
ARTHUR ALLUM (Policeman X 106). About 11.30 I was on duty in uniform in St. Ann's Road—I saw a-crowd outside Quinney's fish shop—I saw Marshall and Patten quarrelling—I asked them to go away—Marshall went into the fish shop; Patten went away—Marshall came back, and I again asked him to go away—he went into the fish shop, came out again very shortly, and then went away towards Crescent Street—he had been drinking, but was not drunk—Marshall appeared sober—I did not notice any blood upon Patten when he went away—I was close behind him—he had a hard hat on.
WILLIAM CLARK . I am a general dealer of 27, Crescent Street—on Saturday, 20th October, about half-past 11, I was in the George beershop with Lay and a man named Beck—Marshall came in and said he had been fighting with Brummy (Patten) down in St. Ann's Road—I went outside, Lay followed me—Lay said, "I hear Brummy wants to see me"—I went to 27, Crescent Street, where I was living, it is a lodging-house—I left Lay outside—I went into the kitchen—Patten was standing in front of the fire—I told him that he was wanted outside—he went out, I and Riley followed in about two minutes—as I was coming out I saw Lay and Patten struggling in the yard—I did not see the struggle begin, I heard Patten fall, and as if his head went against the wall—I could not see very well, it was dark—I saw a graze on the wall next morning—I did not see any blood on it—I did not see Patten move after he fell—I passed by him as he was lying there—Lay said to him, "Get up," and he pulled him towards the gate leading to the street—I saw Marshall, who was standing round the corner, lift up his foot—I said, "Don't do that," and I shoved him away—I did not see him kick him, I don't know whether he did kick him or not—I thought Patten was drunk—I and Beck and another man lifted him up and carried him into the kitchen, and
afterwards up to bed—I think Lay said something about his being stunned, but I am not sure—I saw Patten in bed next morning, dead.
Cross-examined. This occurred in the archway, which is rather dark—I was about five yards off when I heard the sound—I did not hear Patten speak after that.
NICHOLAS RILEY . I am a shoemaker, and live at 17, Catherine Road—on 20th October I was living at 27, Crescent Street—about a quarter to 12 that night I was in the kitchen—I saw Patten there, Clark came in and told him he was wanted outside—he went out, and I went out about three minutes after him and saw him and Lay struggling under the archway, then I saw Patten on the ground—I did not see him fall, it was too dark—I passed him and went out into the street—Lay was standing at the gateway, he went back to Patten and said "Get up," he made no reply, and Lay then pulled him by the collar out of the archway—Marshall ran up from behind me—I did not see him kick Patten—Clark shoved him away and said, "Don't do it"—Agnes Cooling was at the doorway, and she said, "You brute, you kicked the man, I will fetch a policeman"—Marshall made no reply—Beck and Lay then carried Patten into the kitchen and afterwards to bed—he never moved afterwards, and next morning I saw he was dead.
AGNES COOLING . I am the wife of Henry Cooling, a coal porter—about five minutes to 12 on this night I was near 27, Crescent Street—I saw Lay punching Patten about the body, just outside the archway—they were both standing up—in the scuffle they worked themselves under the archway, and I heard Patten fall—I did not see him fall—I heard his head go against the wall—Lay came outside the gateway, stood there a minute, and then went back and said, "Get up, what's the matter with you?"—Patten made no reply—then Lay dragged him out by his coat collar, and then Marshall rushed up and punched him in the chest and kicked him in the head—I said, "Oh, you have killed the man, I will fetch a policeman"—I went for one but could not find one, and when I returned the place was all clear.
WILLIAM BARBER . I keep the lodging-house, 27, Crescent Street—about a quarter to 12 on 20th October I was in the kitchen—Patten was there—I saw a little blood on his hand when he put his hand to the back of his head—Clark called him and he put on his hat and went out—he was drunk—in four or five minutes he was brought in by Clark and Beck—he never spoke, and next morning he was found. to be dead.
ROBERT MARCOMB (Police Sergeant X). I apprehended Lay on 21st October—I told him the charge and cautioned him—he said "he insulted Scotty and his wife at the fish-shop and was turned out"—at the station he said "I was standing outside the Shamrock, in Crescent Street; he came up, he was drunk and wanted to fight—we had a struggle and he fell on the kerb"—on 23rd I apprehended Marshall; I told him the charge—he said "I had a fight with him in St. Ann's Road, I know nothing of what took place at Crescent Street. "
JOHN ROBERTS (Police Inspector X). On Sunday morning, 21st October, I saw the body of the deceased—there was blood on his coat collar and some on the bed—at half-past 10 the same morning I was at Notting-dale Police Station when Lay was brought in and charged—he said "the deceased was about to strike me, and on my pushing him off he fell and his head came in contact with the kerb. "
JAMES DUFF MILLER . I am a surgeon, and live in Norland Place, Notting-dale—on 21st October, about half-past 8 a. m., I went to this lodging-house and saw Patten lying on the bed dead—there was a scalp wound at the back of his head about an inch and a half long—there was effusion of blood on the brain, which was the cause of death—his lungs were very much congested, and injury to the head would be more likely to be injurious than to a healthy man—there was no fracture—a kick, a blow, or fall would cause the injury—he had been dead about 8 hours—the injury to the head would probably cause insensibility.
Cross-examined. I have heard the evidence—the injury that caused death might have been from the fall and kick at the fish-shop, or from the fall in the archway; it is possible that the commencement of the fatal injury took place at the fish-shop, but that might not have proved fatal if there had not been the subsequent excitement and fall.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Lay said "The deceased was well known about the neighbourhood to be drunk, and he would have three or four fights a night before he came home"—Marshall said "I had never spoken to the man before in my life."
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. CORRIE GRANT and BACK Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
THOMAS NARBUEGH . I am proprietor of the paper called the Sporting Clipper—the prisoner was in my employment as general manager, and had been so eight years last March—I am usually absent from London on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday—whether I was absent or present it was the prisoner's duty to open all letters and do the correspondence; he had the whole management of the paper—if a letter came enclosing money it was his duty to send a receipt and enter the name and address of the person on the counterfoil; then he would enter the name and address in the subscribers' book—all the money he received was to be placed in the safe, of which he had the key—he accounted to me for it usually at the end of the week, nearly every week, when I settled up with him—I reckoned up the money and compared it with the counterfoils, and if correct I signed the last receipt in the book—I had suspicion before October this year, because the receipts fell off so much, but I could not find it out—I told him to take four days' leave of absence, and while he was absent I received more than 200 complaints from subscribers—amongst them was one from Mr. Manner, of the Queen's Hotel, Manchester Road, Poplar—thereupon I searched the receipt book to see if I had any entry of his name—I could not find any—I could not find his name entered in the subscribers', book—this book (produced) is in the prisoner's writing—I find entered in it Mr. Manner's name—the endorsement to this cheque (H. Pearce) is in the prisoner's writing, and this bundle of envelopes is addressed in the prisoner's writing—I have recently examined the end of my receipt book, I find about 25 pages and about 100 receipts have been cut out with a
penknife, counterfoils and all—there are four receipts on a page—subsequently to the prisoner's leaving I received this letter from him on Saturday, November 3—it is in his writing. (This expressed regret for careless conduct, and a desire in any way to repair any havoc it had caused, and a hope that in view of his aged parents' condition he might be permitted to do his best to retrieve his position and still write for the paper.) I wrote in answer to the prisoner's father, because I wanted his book with the addresses; I did not write to the prisoner, I had no address.
Cross-examined. The publisher (Brooke) brings out the Sporting Clipper—he has been publisher for eight years—Locke Narburgh is my son, he is about 20—he was 19 on 12th November—in 1883 he was about 13 or 14—he has been on the register of the paper for two or three years—I cannot say if he has been since 1883—I have been very ill, on my death-bed very nearly; it has affected my memory very much—I don't know that this boy of 14 was registered as publisher in 1883—he was registered as proprietor—I have been abroad for two or three months at a time—I don't know if he was put on the register as printer and publisher—the prisoner generally put the article together from my notes—I have written hundreds of articles for this paper—I have not done so within the last year; perhaps I wrote some last year—the prisoner had to pay the wages on every Friday—on a few occasions he got advertisements for the paper; it was not part of his business to do so; we do not press anyone to advertise—we do not want advertisements; as a rule, we had a good business without them—to my knowledge he did not pay money out of his pocket to agents and others to get advertisements—I never heard of his doing so—Advertisement read:—"'Turf Investments. A Guide to Winning on the Turf,' by T. Narburgh, the result of 25 years practical experience in the ring. This system of backing horses, being entirely new and original, will be found the best guide to winning money on the turf ever published, being simple in action and certain in its results. Mr. Thomas Narburgh has been the most successful backer of horses in the kingdom under this system, having won a fortune, and what is more, retained it. Post free from the author, 1s. T. Narburgh, Elstree, Herts. I am the most successful backer of horses in the kingdom; I have won a lot of money, a fortune, and kept it—I am a member of the Victoria Club, not Tattersall's. I could be a member of that; I do not care about it." (Another advertisement was read, announcing that T. Narburgh would attend Yarmouth and Kempton Park meetings, and adding, "Mr. Thomas Narburgh has determined to discontinue sending results of races, as these are for the most part required only for fraudulent purposes.")—We send results of races from the office—my business is quite distinct from the business in London—my son has advertised as Jack the Spaniard—I have not—he asked my permission to put the advertisement in—(An Advertisement was read to the effect that Mr. Potter Brown would telegraph selections for Brighton and Lewes for £1 Address P. Brown, Emery's Temperance Hotel, Brighton). I decline to say if that was my advertisement—I was personally advertising from the Post Office, Brighton—I do not have two addresses in the same town at race meetings, one in the name of Narburgh, and one in another name—I never had letters sent to Ludgate Circus in any name—I decline to answer anything referring to Potter Brown—I describe myself as possessing this marvellous skill and certain system—I continue to offer
my services to the public—I should be at Manchester now—I have advertised for 25 years in the name of Narburgh—I have not looked into the law on this question of advising people; that had nothing to do with my putting the boy forward as the proprietor of the paper—I was seriously ill at the time, on my death-bed it was thought, and I left the property in the will to him, and it was thought it had better be in his name—this was three or four years ago—this paper is printed on Friday night, and brought out on Saturday—the prisoner attended at the office entirely—my son was also there, and another clerk—the paper was not printed at the office, but the type is composed there—George Ascot Voysey is dead—I should be at the office on Monday, from 10 o'clock until about 3—I did not send the prisoner a telegram asking him to meet me after I had sent him away—I do not know it was the practice not to give a formal receipt for amounts under 5s.—these are my initials; it is a receipt—when a receipt is missed another is taken from the end of the book—if the prisoner was not in the office during the week, the boy would see persons who called, or my son would sometimes—my son, the registered proprietor, would not have authority to do what he pleased; he was under the prisoner—the prisoner saw everyone who came, unless he was away, and then I don't know who would see them.
Re-examined. I had my son's name put on the register because I was ill—I cannot recollect when the registration took place; it was within the last few years—I left my son the paper in the will when I was ill, and in case I should die his mother said his name had better be put on the register to save bother—since then there has been no alteration in it; it has been in the hands of the publisher—besides money from subscriptions and advertisements, the prisoner received money from the wholesale newsagents on Friday, and out of "that money he made what payments he had to make—I have his last statement of the payments—I always kept him well supplied with money; he was never short—he had never paid money out of sums received for subscriptions or advertisements to my knowledge—it was his duty to cross the cheques with the name of my bankers, the Union Bank of London, Chancery Lane—it was his duty to put all money received from subscriptions and advertisements into the safe, and to pay it over to me when he accounted, not to spend it; he had plenty of money.
RICHARD USHER . I am 14 years of age—I am office boy to Mr. Narburgh—I address envelopes and wrappers out of the special edition book of quarterly and annual subscribers—I never saw the prisoner address wrappers, but I have seen him address envelopes—he got the addresses from pieces of paper and envelopes which he took out of his pocket—he put special editions into the envelopes, stamped and stuck them down, and I posted them—the special edition went in on Monday—the prisoner did not address the envelopes or put the special edition in when Mr. Narburgh was there.
Cross-examined. Mr. Narburgh was there on Monday mornings for four hours—Friday was the busiest day in the week—no one else came there to write for the paper at all—I did not write for it—the prisoner paid people who came to be paid during the week—he would. sometimes be away from the office, and then Locke Narburgh would be there—I have been there since the week before Christmas—a file of receipts is
kept in the office—wages would be paid on Friday night—the prisoner would be very busy sometimes in the week, and on Friday all day, and sometimes nearly all night—Monday is also a busy day, there is a great deal to do.
HARRY GOODWIN MARNER . I keep the Queen Hotel, Manchester Road, Poplar—in February last I sent this cheque for 30s., payable to Mr. Pearce, for a year's subscripton to the Sporting Clipper—I should say I received a receipt—I could not find it, but I found my. receipt for 1887—my cheque was returned to me through my bankers as usual—early in October I did not get the paper, and wrote to the proprietor, complaining of it, and in consequence of that letter I am here.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner—I have not given evidence before.
Cross-examined. I have known him about ten years—I knew who he was—he has been an exceptionally hard-working man all the time I have known him.
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective). On Tuesday, 6th November, I went to Lichfield, in Staffordshire, where I found the prisoner in custody—I told him I had a warrant for his arrest, and he must go with me to London—he said, "All right"—a portmanteau was given to me as his property, and I searched it in his presence—I found this little black book, containing a number of addresses of people, among them Mr. Marner's; also 221 envelopes addressed to different people similarly to this top one, which is to Mr. Marner; and I found also a number of letters addressed to" Pearce, Sporting Clipper, Fleet Street, "all opened—I brought the prisoner to London; and he was charged at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined. The keys of the portmanteau were in charge of the police—the envelopes and papers were in his portmanteau—I have known the prisoner about four years as a pressman in Fleet Street.
GUILTY . Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the surroundings of the case and the reparation he offered.— Four Months' Hard labour.
MR. PICKERSGILL Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
EDWARD CRISPIN . I live at 30, Finch Street, Whitechapel—between half-past 11 and 12 on Bank Holiday night, 6th August, I was standing just inside the gate of my house, when my attention was attracted by two boys fighting almost opposite my gate in the street—I did not know them—I crossed the road, and said, "Leave off fighting"—the prisoner, who was in the mob and backing one of the boys up, struck me on the head with his two fists—I fell down; he jumped on my left leg—I became insensible, and found myself in the hospital—I knew the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. I live next door to the Hop Pole beer-house—the fight was closer to my gate than to the middle of the road—it had been going on five or ten minutes—there was a mob of people all standing round—I and the prisoner have been friends; he had no reason to bear me animosity, nor I him; we are neighbours—he jumped on me immediately
after he knocked me down—I was lying on my side—the Hop Pole does not give a very bright light—I could see very well; my gas was alight, and shone under my gate—there were people between me and the gate—I did not see my wife come up—my wife and another man drew me out of the mob—she spoke to me as I was taken in at the gate—she went indoors when I went out of the gate, and when I hallo out, "My leg is broken," she came to me out of my house—I left the gate open when I came out; there is a wicket-gate, and then the parlour door to my house.
CATHERINE CRISPIN . I am the prosecutor's wife. On the night of 6th August I was outside our gate—I saw two boys fighting outside the Hop Pole—I followed my husband out—I saw the prisoner knock him to the ground with his two fists; I was by my husband's side then, close to him—after that the prisoner jumped on him deliberately; I cannot say what part he jumped on—he broke his leg—I helped to get my husband indoors, and as I did so the prisoner gave me two blows on the side of my face, they have made me rather hard of hearing ever since—I was by my husband's side, outside, when the prisoner struck me—I know him quite well.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell why he did it—I and my husband were sitting indoors and heard a disturbance; I got up and went with him to see what had taken place, and saw the two boys fighting—I did not know either of-the boys—I did not speak to my husband when I got up, I was close to him—there was a crowd of boys round to see the fight, not big boys; the prisoner was the tallest and biggest of the lot—I did not notice if the boys were scuffling to see the fight—I could not see what part of my husband the prisoner jumped on, because it was so dark—the people were not shoving and pushing about by my husband's side—they were not standing orderly, like people sitting in the pit of a theatre.
OSWALD MEREDITH JONES . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—just after midnight on 7th August I saw Crispin there—he was suffering from a breakage of both bones of the lower part of his left leg—I could not be positive as to how it was caused—I have heard the description of the jumping on him—it is quite possible that would account for it, but I could not swear to it—he is still under my care.
Cross-examined. It is quite as likely that the injury was caused by his falling down—it is more likely to have been caused by a fall—he is a fairly heavy man.
By the COURT. He is 60 years old, and bones get very brittle with age, and do not unite readily, and these did not unite when first set.
HENRY IMOFF (Policeman H 211). I took the prisoner into custody on 7th August, about a quarter past 6 a.m.—I knocked at his door; his mother came and called him down; he was in bed—I said, "I shall take you into custody for assaulting Mr. Crispin over the way; he is now lying in the hospital"—he said, u Very well; I did not do it; I am very sorry for the old man. "
Cross-examined. To the best of my belief the prisoner has been a soldier—I have heard he served through the Egyptian campaign, and has a bronze star, and was discharged with a good character.
Witnesses for the Defence. GEORGE HENSHAW. I am a printer of 61, Fuller Street, Bethnal Green
—on this night I was standing a little way from the Hop Pole, looking at two chaps fighting in the middle of the road—I saw the prosecutor come out of his gate and rush over, and the prisoner put up his arm to prevent him interfering with the fight, and said, "It is nothing to do with you"—and then the prosecutor struck the prisoner in the chin, but before the prisoner had time to hit him back a man pulled the prisoner away; I do not know the man's name—then the prosecutor rushed in among the mob to separate the boys, and he fell or was knocked down, I could not say which—I am certain the prisoner did not jump on his leg—I did not see the prisoner again that evening—a man took him away—I waited till the fight was over—I heard the prosecutor complaining of his leg after he fell.
Cross-examined. I was at the Police-court on 18th September, but did not give evidence—I was 2 or 3 yards from the prisoner and prosecutor standing on the kerb—the man who pulled the prisoner away had the appearance of a foreigner—I only knew the prisoner by sight before that evening—all the mob was round the prosecutor before he fell or was knocked down.
Re-examined. The prisoner was represented by Mr. Earle, a solicitor, at the Police-court—I was there, ready and willing to give evidence, but Mr. Earle, in the exercise of his discretion, did not call evidence.
By the COURT. I did not see if the blow struck by the prosecutor upon the prisoner's chin had any effect on him—he did not fall as the result of the blow.
HENRY WILLIAM LITTLE . I am a warehouseman, and live at 13, Finch Street—on this night I was going to bed, and saw the disturbance in the street caused by the two boys fighting—I went in the street, there was a large crowd round the two boys—the prisoner is related to me—I have been on friendly terms with Crispin as a neighbour—I got up in time to see Crispin make a lunge at the prisoner, who was about to retaliate when some man took him away—I did not know that man's name; I have seen him once since—I believe he was here last Sessions to give evidence—the case was postponed because the prosecutor was not well enough to attend—I did not see what became of Crispin, I went indoors—the prisoner has been in the army, and was discharged invalided with a good conduct stripe and the bronze star.
Cross-examined. I was outside the Police-court on 18th September but was not called—I came away with the prisoner, and did not notice the prosecutor afterwards—I did not see prisoner strike Mrs. Crispin—I should certainly have seen it if he had done so.
Re-examined. I believe Mr. Earle, the solicitor, knew I was at the Police-court—I did not give him my name.
ROBERT GOODALL . I am a cabinet-maker, at 48, Wandsworth Gardens, Bethnal Green Road—I know the prisoner by sight only—on this night I was returning home and saw the lads fighting; they were 16 to 18 years old, I should say, a crowd was round them—I went up to look—I saw Crispin rush out of his gate; he struck the prisoner about the chin—the prisoner would have retaliated, but before he could recover his feet some man, who looked to me to be a German, took him by his arm and dragged him away—the prosecutor ran into the mob and he was then either struck or he fell; the mob seem to open and I saw him fall to the ground—I could not say he was struck—the prisoner was not there when he fell—I
did not see Mrs. Crispin there till she came and picked the prosecutor up with the help of a lad—I did not see the prisoner strike her two blows; he was not there—I had not spoken to the prisoner before this; he was quite a stranger to me except by sight—since this I have spoken to him once or twice at his door.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was dragged away towards his own door, and I lost sight of him altogether—I had not Mrs. Crispin in view during the whole time of these occurrences—the last I saw of her was when she was helping Mr. Crispin up; I was about 10 yards off at the time—I walked away then towards the prisoner's door, and told him he had better take our advice—I fancied the prosecutor was hurt—I did not go and see if he was, because I am not so fast in interfering with a row—I saw no more of Mr. and Mrs. Crispin, only when they were at the gate and the lad with them—Mr. Crispin did not fall there—I saw him going up to the gate, just past the kerb—I will swear that at that time the prisoner was not near the Crisping; I was almost the only soul there, for the mob was dispersed then, going towards the other end of the street—I did not see Mrs. Crispin struck.
Re-examined. I saw Crispin in the care of his wife and a boy—I was not above 6 or 7 yards from him when he ran into the mob, I should think.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
JOHN KIRBY (Policeman T 673). About 2 o'clock a. m. on 13th October I was on duty opposite 21, Devonport Road, Shepherd's Bush, when I heard a loud crash, and saw a light in the bedroom window of No. I—I went a little way off the house, keeping observation on it, and called Samworth to my assistance—I said something to him, and we proceeded to the house; there is a garden and gate in front—we got over the gates, which were locked, the light was extinguished—we found a window had been broken open 6 inches, the putty having been cut away on one side, and a pane of glass broken against the catch, and catch forced back—the window was closed then—we pushed it open and got in and examined the bottom of the house, and found no one there—the house was very quiet—we then proceeded to the next landing, and found that was safe; and we went up to the top bedroom, and there found the prisoners underneath the bed—I asked them what they were doing there—they said they were having a night's rest, and were let in by two girls—we took them into custody—the kitchen and bedroom were in awful confusion, everything was out of place—I did not see them take anything out of their pockets.
Cross-examined by Gammon. You had your shoes and jackets off—I don't remember you telling us to search the house to see if we could find the two women.
Cross-examined by Connolly. The bed-clothes were disarranged, as if. someone had been on the bed.
we found the prisoners upstairs; they said they had been let into the house by two servant girls—we searched the house; there were no servants there—we took them into custody, and took them downstairs into the sitting-room—Gammon pulled from his pocket a pair of shoes, coral necklet, 3 silver bangles, imitation diamond cross, ear-drop, and an old wedding ring in a case—Connolly took these beads and box of matches from his pocket—we took them to the station; they made no answer to the charge.
Cross-examined by Gammon. You had your boots off—you had been drinking, but were not drunk—it did not take you nearly half an hour to put your boots and jacket on—there was no trace of any woman in the house; no shawl, or bonnet, or parcel.
WORTLEY WILLIAM BAGGALLAY . I am a house and estate agent at 23, Lower Phillimore Street, Kensington—this house, 21, Devonport Road, was in the occupation of Mrs. Elizabeth Matthews, a widow—I was with her on 13th August, when she went away; I saw the house locked up, the keys were delivered to me—I recognise this cross and this wedding ring; I know it as Mrs. Matthews's wedding ring—I recognise these three articles as here—I saw them put away in a cupboard—she was tenant of the house.
ARTHUR WILLIAM MATTHEWS . I live at 21, Brompton Street, Chelsea, and am son of Mrs. Matthews, tenant of this house—I recognise these three bangles and these beads as my mother's property. Gammon, in his defence, said they drank with the women, who took them into the house. Connolly said he had had a drop of drink, or he should not have gone there.
GAMMON then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1887, and CONNOLLY** to one in November, 1886.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted.
ALFRED FARRAR . I am manager to Andrew Campbell, jeweller, of 63, Cheapside—about 7.30 on night of 2nd November the prisoner came in our shop and asked to look at some scarf-pins—3 trays of scarf-pins were shown him by an assistant—while he was looking at them Detective Jukes beckoned me from outside—I went outside, something passed, in consequence of which I returned into the shop, locked the door, and put the key into my pocket—I found one pin missing from the three trays—I said to the assistant, in the prisoner's hearing, "There is one missing"—I said to the prisoner, "I shall charge you with having stolen a pin"—he said, "I have not the pin; I am a gentleman, and quite capable of purchasing a scarf-pin"—I called the officer to search him—during the time the officer was searching him he had his left hand in his trousers pocket, and the officer clutched his hand and twisted it round, and he had the pin in his hand—I identify it as Mr. Campbell's property; it was safe in the tray just before.
JOHN JUKES . About half-past 7 on 2nd November I was in Cheapside—in consequence of information received I went to Mr. Campbell's, where I saw the prisoner in the shop with 3 trays in front of him—I beckoned the manager out; he returned to the shop, and after
wards called me in and told me before the prisoner that there was a pin gone out of one of the trays, and he said, "This man has it"—I said to the prisoner, "I'm a police-officer; have you taken any of these pins?"—he said, "No"—I saw his left hand was in his trousers pocket—I said, "What have you got in your pocket?"—he said, "Nothing"—I said "Pull your hand out"—he pulled his hand out and held it in this fashion, as though in the act of putting something in his sleeve—I took his hand and found this pin in it—I also found the price ticket of the pin in his left hand trousers pocket—I told him I should take him into custody—on the way to the station he said, "I can prove I bought that pin there a week ago"—a little later on, before we got to the station, he said, "I don't call that stealing; if he likes to lay his pins about, that is his own look out"—I found on him at the station 2 pawnbrokers' duplicates for pins—I have seen those pins, they are both new; I have not been able to find their owners.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I had got no intention to steal the thing; I went into the shop to buy things for money, and in a hurry I put the pin in my pocket. "
The prisoner in his defence said that he put his gloves into his pocket, and that the pin must have got inside his glove without his noticing it.
GUILTY . — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended Been, and MR. BEARD
Defended Barrett. ALFRED JAMES BROWN . I am in partnership with Mr. Waller, and trade as Waller and Brown, mantle manufacturers, at 80, Hamsell Street, Jewin Street, in the City—we also have a room nearly opposite at No. 3, in the same street, on the third floor—three other tenants use the other floors for business purposes—on 9th November, at 10 minutes past 12 noon, as I was passing No.3 I noticed a horse and a covered van standing there full of our mantles—I knew them directly—Barrett was standing near the horse and van—just as I was going to speak to him Been came down from No. 3 with a bundle of these mantles, which he shot into the van—I said in the hearing of both prisoners, "Whose goods are these, and what are you doing with them?"—one of them said, "We don't know whose goods they are, but we came up to see the Lord Mayor's show, and were in the Grapes public-house, and a man came in with a brown beard and offered us two bob to bring these mantles down stairs, and we are doing so"—I said, "Where is the man?" and they said—"We don't see him"—and one of them said, "Where is the driver?"—I said, "I should think he is gone"—I saw a policeman, and gave them in charge—he detained them—I went upstairs and saw the door was locked with a padlock in the proper way, as we are in the habit of leaving it—we keep the key of the padlock in our counting-house—I came down again, without going into the room, and went to our counting-house at No. 30, where I found my key hanging up on its usual nail—we have only one key—I went up and unlocked the door—I found the place was disarranged and a number of mantles
had gone—the policeman came up with the two prisoners—they said, "Yes, this is the room we brought them from; the man with the brown beard unlocked the door, and also locked it up again"—I was present when they were searched, and a key was found on Been, I think, which would unlock the padlock—I went over with Sergeant Taylor, and in his presence unlocked the padlock with the key found on Been—the value of the mantles is £61.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. It might have been before I went upstairs that I asked Been who unlocked the door; I believe it was—he said he unlocked it, and also locked it up again; he did not add, "And gave me the key"—I am quite certain he did not say that.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. Barrett, when I first saw him, was standing on the pavement near the van, within 6 or 8 inches, I should think——I said at the Police-court he took part in the conversation, they were both speaking at the same time—I have given the same version now as at the Police-court, I think—I did not say there he said "the man offered me two bob if I would bring the goods down."
WALTER OSMOND (Policeman City 115). On 9th November Mr. Brown called me to the two prisoners at 3, Hamsell Street—there was a horse and van there—he said, "There is something wrong here, I wish you to detain these two men; they are removing my goods without my giving them authority"—I asked the prisoners who had given them authority to remove the goods, and Been said, "A man with a full brown beard; he asked us, as we were standing by the Grapes, if we wanted to earn two bob'—I said, "Where is the man?"—Been looked round and said, "I cannot see him"—I asked him where the carman was—he said, "There is no carman"—I asked Mr. Brown if the room was locked—he went upstairs, I remaining below with the prisoners—Mr. Brown came down again and said, "The room is locked in the usual way"—he went to 30, Hamsell Street, and came back, bringing the key with him; we went upstairs, I taking the two prisoners—I saw the door of the third floor opened—I heard no question asked as to the door of the room being locked—I searched the prisoners at the station, and found on Been this key, which fitted the padlock.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not hear Mr. Brown ask Been who unlocked the door—when I came up the prisoners were standing by the cart—I remained with them till they were taken into the room where the mantles were, and I did not hear Mr. Brown ask who unlocked the door, nor did I hear either prisoner say "the man that employed us unlocked it and locked it up again"—Been gave me a correct address—I have ascertained he is a fireman employed oh board a vessel.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. Barrett gave a correct address—there was no attempt to escape—they did everything asked of them.
WILLIAM SHEPHERD . I am a fruiterer and greengrocer of Burley Road, Bow—I am the owner of the horse and van—on Saturday at Moor Lane Police Station I saw it—I let it out on the Thursday evening, 8th November, about seven, to a man giving the name of Jones, Phayre Street, Stepney—I knew nothing of him, he was an entire stranger—he paid 3s. deposit—the horse and van were to be returned in about 21/2 hours; I did not see it again till the 10th—I know nothing of the prisoners.
By the JURY. The man who hired it was a tall, dark, gentlemanly man—he had not been shaved for a fortnight or ten days. The Prisoners received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
(30). JOHN FRENCH (35) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences a cheque for £63 from William Smith, with intent to defraud, and a cheque for £65 from Henry Tyler, with a like intent. Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
31. BEIDGET HART (38), ELLEN RYAN (60), and JANE DALEY (52) , Stealing a purse and £5 4s. 6d. of William Needham from his person; Daley having been convicted of a like offence at Kendal in January, 1886, after two previous convictions, to which
DALEY PLEADED GUILTY. ** — Judgment respited.
No evidence was offered against.
HART and RYAN— NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
HENRY OSBORN PRICE . I live at 5, Holly Villa, Leytonstone—on Saturday, November 3rd, about 10. 30 or 11 p. m., I was in the Compasses public-house, and saw Morris and several others there—I was the worse for drink—I found my chain hanging down and missed my watch—this is it (produced)—I went out and called a policeman, who came in.
Cross-examined by Morris. I had a dog with me—I do not remember giving my watch into your hands and saying, "Take this; ain't it worth the smoke and the drink?"
JEREMIAH ALLEN . I live at 3, Queen Street, Whitechapel—I was in the Compasses public-house, and saw the two prisoners there—Mr. Price was sitting down in a corner, and Morris standing in front of him—Morris left—Price said that he had lost his watch, and Morris had it in his hand and passed it to Cottrell, who was standing behind him; and Joe Buckingham, who was behind Cottrell, took the watch from him and handed it to me, and I gave it to a policeman who was there—the prosecutor was very drunk; he was not asleep, he was leaning down with his head on his breast, with a dog in his lap.
WILLIAM BARTON (Policeman H 303). I was called into the Compasses, and saw Cottrell pass a watch to a man named Buckingham, who passed it to Allen—another constable who was with me took it from Allen, who said, "It is that gentleman's watch, "pointing to Mr. Price—I said to Price," Have you lost a watch?"—he said, "I don't know"—I opened his coat and saw his chain hanging—I said, "Is this your watch?"—he said, "I believe it is"—I sent for assistance and stopped anybody going out—I took Morris in custody, and told him he would have to go to the station—he said, "I know nothing about it"—Cottrell had then been taken out of the house.
ELLEN SHEA . My husband is a labourer, of 77, Wentworth Street—I called into the Compasses on 3rd November, about 11 p. m., with Jane Matthias, and saw Mr. Price come in—Morris afterwards came in with another man, and half an hour afterwards Cottrell came in—Price sat down alongside a young woman, and when he got up to go Morris offered him a pot to drink out of; Price told him to go away, and he went away, and Price went to the bar and called for drink, but had not money to pay for it—the barman told him two or three times to feel in his pocket for 5d., and then Morris felt in Price's pockets, and while doing so I saw him take his watch and put it in his right trousers pocket—when the policeman came I saw the watch taken from Cottrell's hand, but I did not see how it got there.
Cross-examined by Morris. When Price told you to go away you went a short distance, but not out of the house—that was before you took the watch.
JANE MATTHIAS . I live at 36, Ferrara Street, Whitechapel, and am a bottle-washer—I was in the Compasses on November 3—Mr. Price came into the same compartment and sat down by the door—Morris came in afterwards, and Cottrell half an hour afterwards—I saw Morris put his hand in Price's pocket and take his watch, and put it in his right trousers pocket—I ran out for a policeman—I did not see Cottrell do anything.
Cottrell's statement before the Magistrate. I was not in the house five minutes; Morris handed me the watch to look at.
Morris's Defence. The gentleman put the watch into my hand and I held it, and then put it into Cottrell's hand to look at.
Cottrell's Defence. I went in for some drink, and had not got served before there was a row through the gentleman's refusing to pay for the drink and the smoking. I did not know the watch was in my hand till I lifted my hand up and found it there.
COTTRELL received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
MORRIS— GUILTY . He was further charged with a conviction of uttering counterfeit coin at this Court.
RICHARD HUMPHREYS . I am a Warder of Pentonville Prison—I produce a certificate of the prisoner's conviction. (Read—Central Criminal Court, 11th January, 1886. George Morris, convicted of uttering counterfeit coin. Sentence, Twelve Months' Hard Labour.) He is the same man—I had him under observation afterwards.
The Prisoner. It was in 1865.
Witness. No, it was 11th January, 1886.
GUILTY. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DE MICHELE Prosecuted.
EDWARD SPURLING . I am a horse-keeper of 22, Brunswick Street, Poplar—on 21st October, about 9.45, I was going home along East India Wall, and the prisoner and three other men came up—the prisoner said, "Shake hands, old gentleman," and caught me by my hand and collar, put his leg between mine and threw me down backwards—I felt a blow on my hip, and my thigh was broken—I cannot say who gave me the blow—I became insensible, and did not come to myself till I got to the
station—I then missed my watch and chain—Smart produced my chain.
JOHN FORD . I am a commercial traveller, of 150, St. Leonard's Road—on 21st October about 9.45 I saw a scrimmage on the ground—Spurling was lying there with his face bleeding—the prisoner and another man passed me quickly—I received information, went after the prisoner and put my hand on his shoulder—before I charged him he said, "I did not do it"—I did not lose sight of him from the time he passed till I caught him—I took him back to Spurling, and he said, "That is one of them"—I said, "You follow me to the station"—the prisoner struggled to get away, but a policeman came up and I gave him in charge—the other man escaped—Spurling's face was bleeding; I don't know how that happened.
JOHN SMART . I am an engineer, of Plaistow—on 21st October I was walking with a friend, and saw the prisoner and another man knock the prosecutor down—I am sure the prisoner is one; he tripped him up——I chased the other man, but I fell, and then picked up this chain, which the prosecutor identified.
JAMES CASHFORD (Policeman K 626). I heard shouts of "Police"—went up and found the prisoner struggling with Mr. Ford, who said, "This man has stolen a watch and chain from an old man"—the prisoner said, "Let me go, and I will give you the tip who has got the watch"—the prosecutor came up with his face bleeding, and said mat the prisoner was the man, and charged him—Mr. Smart Drought the chain to the station-house, and the prosecutor identified it.
Prisoner's Defence. A young fellow, who I only know by sight, asked me to take a walk—I heard someone hallo out, "I am stabbed," and saw the prosecutor on the ground—he said, "Pull me away"—I pulled him away, and saw a black-handled knife in the prosecutor's hand, half shut—he said, "He has stabbed me in the arm, I have got his watch and chain, the best thing I can do is to clear out of it"—I got round the corner, and the witness touched me on my shoulder and said, "I will charge you with taking this man's watch and chain"—I said, "I was only assisting him."
GUILTY*†. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
34. GEORGE SMITH (64) was . again indicted, with FREDERICK MYERS (19), JAMES STEPHENS (62), and FREDERICK DEVON PORT (33) , with unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it.
The prisoners Smith, Stevens, and Davenport were tried last Session for feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, when Smith was acquitted—(See Vol. CVIII ., page 743).
MR. PURCELL, who was now instructed by the Court to argue the case on behalf of Smith, moved to quash the indictment as against Smith—he had been put upon his trial last Session for feloniously uttering, on an indictment, the first part of which (for unlawful uttering) was substantially identical with the indictment upon which he was now arraigned, he was then found guilty of the misdemeanour; but, on failure of proof of the previous conviction for a coining offence, alleged, in order to constitute the felony created by Sect. 12 of 24 and
25 Vict. c. 99 (see s. 37), a general verdict of "Not Guilty" had been entered on the authority of Reg v. Thomas, L. R. 2 C. C. R., 141, and 44 L. I. (M. C.) 42; 13 Cox's C. C, 52; but Reg e. Thomas was no authority for putting the prisoner again upon his trial on the identical facts. Section 12 expressly extinguished the misdemeanour when committed by a person previously convicted of a coining offence, and made the act an act of felony, and of that felony Smith had been acquitted. He could not plead autrefois acquit or convict, owing to Reg v. Thomas. If a motion to quash were not the proper means of testing the legality of the present indictment he would ask leave to amend his procedure by pleading a special plea.
MR. WILKINSON contended that the motion to quash the indictment was too late, as it must be made before plea pleaded. He also argued that the present motion could only be made for some defect on the face of the indictment, and there was none here. Smith's power to plead autrefois acquit under the statute could not be taken away by the decision of any Judge.
The COMMON SERJEANT (after consulting MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS) decided that Smith could be put upon his trial for the misdemeanour of unlawful uttering. A motion to quash the indictment did not apply to a case of this sort, and if autrefois acquit were pleaded it must fail, the two offences, felonious uttering and unlawful uttering, not being on all fours, the previous conviction forming no ingredient in the latter offence. A special plea could not be raised. Stevens and Davenport, however, could not be tried again, as the charge of misdemeanour against them was merged in the felony of which they had been convicted.
GEORGE LUBCOCK . I am an apprentice to a chemist at 3, Milbrook Street, Camden Town—on 1st October Myers came in for two pennyworth of lozenges and gave me 1s.—I gave him 10d. change, and put it in the till—there were about three good shillings there which I had tried, but they did not get mixed—I took it out two or three minutes afterwards and found it was bad (produced)—I saw Myers at Bow Street three days after-wards with about 18 other men, and picked him out—I had sounded the other shillings.
Cross-examined by Myers. I did not say that at the last examination, because was not asked—the detective said that I was required at Bow Street, as the man was in custody who had uttered the counterfeit shilling.
WILLIAM GOULDINO (Police Sergeant E). I held Myers while Walter Goulding searched him and took a half-crown out of his pocket—he said, "My pal slipped that into me"—I had not put it into his pocket or seen the officer do it.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These 12 half-crowns, three florins, and one shilling are counterfeit, and from various moulds—some of the half-crowns found on Smith are from the same mould as those found on Devonport and Stevens, and also from the same mould as the one passed at the Bedford Arms—they are wrapped up in paper, which smashers use, in loads and half loads, and previous to being wrapped up they are rubbed over with a black substance to give them a tone—none of the half-crowns are from the same mould as those found on Myers.
Smith's Defence. The detectives rushed into the White Hart, and Nicholls choked me with one hand and put three counterfeit half-crowns into my pocket with the other—he knew that I was helpless—this is not the first time the police have been charged with making evidence—there are as many criminals among them as any other class—two detective officers of the S Division were on duty in the Regent's Park, and possessed themselves of housebreaking implements, and made impressions on the windows, and charged two men, who were tried at the Middlesex Sessions; and having succeeded, they proceeded to bolster up another case, and they had to change the witness-box for the felon's dock. Myers' Defence. I asked the prosecutor whether the detective told him the man was in custody who went into his shop—I want to know how the detective knew that, because the man could not recognise me—I was placed with three or four labouring fellows, and the prosecutor came and looked in, and said, " He is not there"; an order was then given, "Right about face," and as soon as I did so Sergeant Nicholls said, "If you think that is the man, touch him," and he touched me—I have been awaiting my trial seven weeks, and am innocent—the man rushed in, put the coin in my pocket, and then said, "Here, what is this?"
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Re-examined). It is not the practice for the whole of the persons being examined to "right about face"—I was not there when the identification took place at the Police-court; it was in the hands of a sergeant gaoler.
MYERS— NOT GUILTY .
SMITH— GUILTY **— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. (Sentence on Stevens and Davenport in the Felony Case—STEVENS—,Twenty Month' Hard Labour. DAVENPORT—Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.)
OLD COURT—Thursday, November 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; MR. POLAND and MR. H. C. RICHARDS Defended.
PATRICK LANE . I am a bootmaker at 164, Drury Lane—on 1st November, about half-past four in the afternoon, I was in the George Hotel in the Strand, nearly opposite the Central Hall of the Royal Courts of Justice—while I was in the front bar speaking to a juryman, who had been discharged from attendance, I turned my head, and noticed the prisoner looking over the stained-glass or embossed part of the window, looking in at me—he was standing in Devereux Court—the window faces Devereux Court—I walked out, and when he saw me he ran away—I stood outside the front door for about ten minutes to see where he had gone, and I then saw the prisoner emerge from a dark corner about twelve yards off, to the right of Devereux Court, near the Griffin—I beckoned him towards me, just to let him know that I had seen him—he came towards me—I said, "Come along, there's no use in hiding; I have seen you long before"—he laughed the matter off as a joke—he said, "It's all
right, let us come in and have a drink"—I said, "All right," and we both went into the George, and we were joined by two other parties—the prisoner paid for the drink this time—we had a separate drink, in separate vessels—what was called for, of course, we drank—one of the parties who joined us I had never seen before, whose name was the same as the prisoner's; he called him by the name—there was a pot of ale called for then—the other party I had seen on two or three occasions at the Law Courts, I did not know his name—I think he called for a pot of ale, and the prisoner called for a pot of ale—it was all drank amongst us—I think altogether it was two pots of ale and two half-pints of ale—the other Kavanagh said to the prisoner," You were receiving £6 a week from the Times Solicitors," or "the Times" I am not sure which; "you must certainly be an informer," and he said he was quite ashamed of being of the same name—the prisoner said he was nothing at all of the sort, and that by and bye, when he would be in the witness-box, he would turn the tables on the Times, he wanted to have as much money as he possibly could out of them—the prisoner then turned to me and said, "You called me a consummate scoundrel in the Freemasons' Arms; do you call it me again?" I said "Yes, and I shall always consider you such." He then made a blow at my head with his fist, which I avoided; it caught me in the shoulder, and I wont down with the force of the blow—I made an attempt to retaliate with my fist, and the friends that were present intervened and prevented me—I let the matter go over, I never retaliated—I remained there for a short time, until the young Kavanagh asked me if I knew of a place of convenience—I told him yes, and I took him across to the urinal that stands in the centre of the road facing the Law Courts—I left the prisoner and the other young man in the bar—when we returned to the George the prisoner accused me of vilifying his name and character to the other Kavanagh during our absence, which I denied—I had a glass of ale in my hand at the time, half-drunk, when he hit me at the side of the head with his fist, and I hit him with the glass; it was partly empty—the effect on him was very little, but the effect on the glass was that you could simply pick up the pieces—the glass hit him; but his head was out of the glass, his head looked like a paving-stone—the glass was shivered into smithereens—the glass was rather thin—then we hit one another as best we could, with our fists, and he being a more powerful man than me, I got down again, and he kicked me four or five times while I was down—the other two that were in the bar with us, with the assistance of the manager and the barman, who jumped across the counter to my assistance, got me away from him and pinned him up in a corner of the bar—the manager asked me to withdraw outside until quietness and peace should be restored, until they could get the prisoner quiet—I went out—as I was going out at the door, the prisoner seeing me, tore himself away from the men that held him in the corner, and came to the door—he opened one side of the door with his left hand, and deliberately pulled his revolver from his trousers pocket and aimed at me—he took a deliberate aim at my head, and fired—I was scarcely further away from him than I am from his Lordship when he fired—I expect if I had not moved it would have hit my heart, but I ducked my head—I was not more than three yards away from him at the time—I was just in time to save myself—the very moment I stooped them
Was the shot, and the flash in my very eyes, and the bullet whizzed by my ear—he then came out at the door—he held the revolver still in the same position—I expected he was about to fire a second time, and I dodged about behind a few parties that collected—I saw him held by a party, and I saw a policeman, and I stepped up at once and gave him into custody—I charged him with shooting at me—I did not hear what he said—he was taken to Bow Street station—I followed behind—I heard him charged there, and he said he had a perfect right to shoot me, and that Mr. Soames would back him up in it, and that Mr. Soames gave him the money, or a sovereign, for the revolver, and he bought it for 5s.—he had damaged it in some way after that, and got it repaired, which cost him 2s., at a shop at the corner of Chancery Lane—at the station he said if he had shot me dead the devil a hair on his head would be touched for it—I had known him about five or six weeks—he had shown me the revolver in the Freemasons' Arms, and he told me who had given him the money for it—when it was repaired, I accidentally met him in Holborn, and I waited outside the door while he went in and got it repaired and paid 2s. for it—he showed me the card; it was Watson and something, at the corner of Chancery Lane—I have been a resident in this country 21 years—I have resided in Drury Lane seven months or so—during the five weeks I have known the prisoner I have been frequently in his company—we have been very comfortable at times, rather friendly—we have had a few altercations.
By the COURT. We were not friendly down to the time of this occurrence—it was not my wish to cease to be friendly—it was about three weeks before that the altercation took place—one night he asked me to accompany him to Rodney Road, the address of William Maloney, and because I got the address he even assaulted me because I would not give him up the address—the altercation was simply because I had been prying into his business here as a witness for the Times—in the course of our conversation in a friendly way I wished to glean as much as I could from him as to what he had to say as an informer over here—I did not care so much for neglecting my business, as long as I was doing any good to my countrymen, if there was anything in it—he was doing about the same, trying to pry into my business—I was just as wide awake as he was—my business was not quite similar to his—I was not, on the part of the Times, receiving £6 or £7 a week—I have been summoned as a witness by Mr. Soames—I don't mean that Mr. Soames himself came and summoned me—their paid agent did, William Maloney—I have got my summons here (producing it)—I had spoken to the prisoner about my evidence during these altercations—Maloney is their paid agent to go about and rake up all the evidence he possibly can—I got half a sovereign with my subpoena, and I got half a sovereign the first day Maloney took me into the office—it was to pay me for my day's labour in coming there—I have since had, I think, two more half-sovereigns from them—that was not from Maloney, but from Mr. Soames's clerk—Maloney was not the man that was paying the witnesses, he is something similar to a recruiting sergeant, to go about and rake up all the rubbish he can to give in to Mr. Soames; something similar to my own, similar to the statement ho got me to make—he told me I could make up a yarn outside—I said, "What, do you want me to go against my countrymen?"—I said I would not—I went into one of the offices, and Maloney went in to two of
the clerks—that was at Mr. Soames's office, 58, Lincoln's Inn Fields—I saw two of the clerks there; one was Mr. Edmunds, I think, and the other Mr. Hall.
By MR. PURCELL. I told the prisoner what I was going to do—I told him I had pitched them a yarn that would knock them sick; in fact, that would hang half the Irish members, if it was only true—I told him the course of action I would take if I was called into the witness-box—I told him I had manufactured a pill for Mr. Soames, and I would see that he swallowed it, and that I would leave it to Sir James Hannen and Sir Charles Russell to see whether he would digest it or not, or whether they could manufacture it or not—I told him that when I went into the witness-box, if ever I got there, I should turn the tables on him altogether in favour of my own countrymen.
By the COURT. I did not go of my own accord—I was taken by their agent—he wanted to entrap me, and I thought I would entrap them—they did not take me there to make a yarn that would make them sick, but I gave it to them the more for that—I have not got a copy of the yarn—I could not even think of a second word of it this moment; it just came to me there and then—there was not a particle of truth in it; that is the truth for you now—it was a yarn just to suit their own palate; it was very nice—if it did not suit them it would not be any use at all—the pill was stiff enough—I made it just to suit their palate, that is it—I think that was right—I did not tell a deliberate lie—it was like this, I wish to show you my justification—it is nothing but trickery and falsehood that they are acting under at the present time themselves—I did tell a deliberate lie, and I consider I was justified in doing so, to fight them with their own weapons, because it is nothing but lies they are building on—I told the prisoner that as they were playing a little bit of trickery on their side, I did not see why T, as an Irisnman, should not do the same on our side, and meet them with their own weapons—I told him that a verbal statement I considered as nothing whatever; but sworn testimony I would adhere to in any place—I value my oath.
Cross-examined. I did not know that Mr. Soames was solicitor to the Times till I was taken there—I don't know how much money I have had from him, about four half-sovereigns—I don't think I have had five—he paid me half a sovereign for my loss of time the first time I was taken there by his paid emissary—the next time I received another half sovereign with my subpoena—after making my statement I was subpœnaed as a witness to attend to give evidence before the Commission—the statement I made was a verbal statement; there was no truth whatever in it—that is my answer; you don't want it straighter than that—I took their money as a witness; they were throwing it away like sawdust, and I did not see why I should not have some of it—there was no swindle in it.
Q. Did you not intend to go into the witness-box and contradict every word you had told Mr. Soames? A. Indeed, I honestly did, but you see I should be on my oath then—as I said before, I don't see why they should not be fought with their own weapons—I did not cheat them if they were prepared to give it to me, or any other fool that came there with any rubbisning kind of evidence—I did not compel them to give me money; they gave it me of their own free will—I have received nothing else from them—in the witness box I should tell the truth like an honest man—I don't see any harm in
getting the money and telling this false story, when they played the same game.
By the COURT. I had no other story to tell in the witness-box, only being here 21 years, and knowing nothing whatever concerning the Irish members or the Irish business—if I made a mistake I made it on my own responsibility, and I certainly say they were doing a good deal in the same way.
By MR. POLAND. I went to the solicitors on the other side, to tell them I had received a subpoena, and to ask what course of action to take—I went to Messrs. Lewis and Lewis, of Ely Place—I saw a clerk, I can't say his name, I told him as nearly as I could possibly think the statement I had made at Mr. Soames'—it was taken down by the said clerk—I did not tell him that I had told the Times solicitors a pack of lies—he asked me, was there any truth in the statement, and I said "No"—he did not ask me if I was called as a witness for the Times; was I going to sell them?—I simply told him there was no truth in it—I did not tell him I was going into the witness-box, because I was not sure—I got nothing at all on that occasion—I did not get anything from Mr. Lewis at any time—I was not promised anything—I went there when I got my subpoena—I wanted to ask for some guidance in the matter; I mean that; I told him I had been to Mr. Soames's office and received a subpoena, and I asked him his opinion on the matter—I have not had any money from the other side—who do you mean by the other side?—I don't at all know who you mean by the other side—do you mean have I had half a sovereign from Mr. Lewis?—put it in a definite form and I will answer it—I had no money from Mr. Lewis—I had half a sovereign from Kavanagh; that was not in Mr. Lewis' office, it was out in the street—I don't know what it was for—Kavanagh was there at Mr. Lewis's office, and he took me there that day and gave me half a sovereign, but Mr. Lewis never gave me a half penny—whether he or any of his clerks gave it to Kavanagh is a thing I know nothing about—I don't know Mr. Griffiths, one of Mr. Lewis's clerks; I don't know any of their names—I know that the prisoner was subpœnaed as a witness for the Times, so he told me; he told me he was going to give evidence—I had called him a consummate scoundrel, not because he was going to give evidence, but because he told me that he expected when the case would be over he would receive £1,000 or £2,000 to take him out of the country and get a Government situation—that gave me to understand what he was at once—it was not then that I called him a consummate scoundrel, but I held him in my opinion as such—I never called him an informer, as far as I remember; but if I did not call him one, I thought him one—to the best of my memory I did not call him one in the hearing of anybody—I really can't swear to that; I may have done—I did not do so at the Freemasons' Arms in the presence of a number of my countrymen—I did not call him a blasted informer; I can't remember anything of the kind; I hardly said a word to the man—he has called it to me, though, and tried to make my countrymen think I was such—I did not threaten him in Rodney Street—I had not a stick with me—this is one I have had to carry—this is the first day I have brought it with me, and that is because I was run over—I did not have it with me the day I went to the George—I had not brought this stick out this twelvemonth or two years—I never carry such, but I was run over accidentally last Monday by the wheel of a cab over my toe, and was compelled to bring it
with me—I knew that the prisoner had a revolver, and that he carried it about with him—I don't know that he had been threatened—I had no animosity against him, only this, that I wished to glean anything I possibly could out of him, if there was the slightest chance—he did not tell me that he had bought the revolver in consequence of threats, and that he walked about in fear—nothing of the sort, nor if he fired it off in the street it would soon bring the police for protection—to fire it at my head is a new way to call attention—I was a member of the National League off and on for some few months—I have been attached to Irish Nationality for some years—I am not a member of the Fenian organisation—I was when it was in existence—since that has been put down by Mr. Parnell and his party I have joined the National League—I knew the Fenian was a rebel organisation, the League is a constitutional agitation, I believe; not so with the other—I carry a knife, as I used to; that is the biggest one I carry (producing small one)—when the prisoner saw that I noticed him at the George he ran away—I did not know why, but I knew it was for some very queer purpose—he did not want me to see him, I daresay—what his motive was I can't say—I did not go out and beckon to him just then; I did after about ten minutes—I just simply drew the badger, when I saw him in the corner I thought I would walk him out, which I did—when we were together the dispute took place—I had not had very much drink that day—I think it might have been four or five half-pints of ale altogether; it might be a little more than that through the course of the day; it might amount to six half-pints—when he said to me, "You called me a consummate acoundrel in the Freemasons' Arms," he made an attempt with his fist at my head, which I avoided, and it caught my shoulder; it knocked me down—my striking him with the glass was about half an hour after the first assault—I think I had a perfect right to do so—I did not see any blood on his head—I was knocked down and ticked about five times, and a man came to my assistance—when I got outside I was standing just in front of the door; I had no time to go very far—he stood inside the door, and took deliberate aim at me, opening the door with his left hand; he was about three yards from me—he fired in my direction—he was standing just in front of me—I felt the bullet whiz—I don't know that I said that before the Magistrate, I may have forgotten to say so—I really don't remember what I did say before the Magistrate, but I know, on my solemn oath, that the bullet did whiz—I don't remember whether I did say so or not.
Re-examined. The prisoner is the man that gave me the half-sovereign—we had both been to Messrs. Lewis and Lewis—when I came out I expected nothing of this from him or anybody else—I was summoned as a witness for the Times as well as the prisoner, and we both paid a visit to Messrs. Lewis, the solicitors on the other side—it was outside Messrs. Lewis's that he gave me the half-sovereign—I don't know where he got it from—I can't really tell if he told me why ho had gone there; he went on some business of course connected with the business of the Times and the Parnell party; something that way—he did not tell me; he gave me to understand it was on the same business, on the Times business, that he went there.
By the COURT. I did not tell the prisoner that I had manufactured one story for the Times, and that I intended to manufacture another one for
my countrymen when I got into the witness-box—that is false—I have not sworn it—(The witness's deposition was read to him, thus: "The prisoner had been informed by me that I was not going to make in the witness-box the statement I had made to Mr. Soames, which was a big one, but was going to manufacture another one for my countrymen, a different story"—that is wholly wrong; it must have slipped my notice, or else I would not allow it to be there—that portion is false—to the best of my knowledge I did not make use of those words—I may have done so; if it is said there that I have sworn to it, it has slipped my memory altogether; but I tell you that portion about manufacturing a story for my countrymen, I could not do it, it is wholely and solely false—I never to the best of my knowledge meant to swear it; it is absolutely false; it is fair and truly false—if that was read over to me and I signed it, it has slipped my memory altogether—if I did say it, it certainly is false—I can stick to everything else there, but that portion I cannot—I was at Mr. Soames's office about an hour, I think—I cannot tell how many people I made statements about there; Mr. Soames, I daresay, can supply you with it, I can't; it would be impossible for me to give it you from memory—mine is not a defective memory—on my oath I could not really think of what it was I said at all that day—I was partly drunk; the officer called on me and we had several drinks before he took me to the office—he even brought me out of the office and made me drink again—I do not remember any particulars; all I know is that whatever statement I made was simply false.
ARTHUR MINCH . I am manager at the George Hotel. On the afternoon of 1st November, about twenty-five minutes past five, I saw the prosecutor and the prisoner in the bar—they were arguing in a loud tone, so I had to ask them to be quiet—the prisoner asked me if I would serve him with some more beer, which I refused—they still stopped in the bar for a short time—they were both perfectly sober, as far as I could judge; but I thought if they went out of the house, there would be an end of the row, or bother, or loud talking—a short time after, I turned my head and saw the prisoner strike at Lane—I heard them speaking to each other before that; I did not hear what was said—the blow did not seem to hurt Lane in any way that I could see—at the same time he struck at Lane, Lane had an ale glass in his hand, with which he hit the prisoner on the head, and it fell to the ground and smashed, and the prisoner fell to the ground—I don't think the glass smashed on his head; I think it fell on the ground—I heard it fall, and heard it smash—I could not see in the scuffle whether it smashed on the man's head or on the floor—, after that they seemed to close with each other, and in the struggle Lane was pushed on the floor—I saw the prisoner kick Lane three or four times—I jumped over the counter to separate them, caught hold of the prisoner, and held him up in a corner on the left of the bar—while I was holding him he said two or three times," Leave go; let me go"—I still held on to him, and a short time afterwards I noticed him put his hand into his left-hand side pocket and pull out a revolver—he got away from me, and went towards the door—I also went towards the door, and opened one of them, he opened the other; I thought he was going out, but instead of that he held up his arm, and fired at Lane, who was standing by the side of the kerb in the gutter—he pointed the revolver at his head—it was not discharged immediately he pointed; there was a
short time, I should say about twenty seconds before he fired—Lane was standing there during that time, he seemed to move about—I did not see any persons in the street, I was standing close to him—after firing he turned round as if he would walk back into the bar, but afterwards walked out of the house—I afterwards saw him in the hands of the police.
Cross-examined. I did not see anyone else near when he fired—I did not see anyone touch him or knock up the pistol—I did not see any blood on him—he seemed excited after the blow on his head—I did not see any beer over him—I don't remember hearing him called any names.
Re-examined. When at the door I was standing on the right-hand side of the prisoner, just behind him—they are double doors.
By the COURT. I was close to him—I can't say why I did not knock his arm up—I could have done so if I had liked—I should say our house is used by the witnesses on both sides—there are very few disturbances in the house.
GEORGE WILLIAM READY . I am an electrician, employed at the Law Courts—I was in the George Hotel on this afternoon—I heard a crash of breaking of glass, looked round and saw the manager and the barman jumping over the bar—I was in another compartment—I ran round into the compartment, and saw a bit of a scuffle in the corner—the prisoner was just coming from the corner—Lane ran under my left arm, doubled in a stooping position, and rushed out of the house—I went towards the prisoner, and saw he was hurt; he had his hand to his face—I went close to him, and said, "What's the matter?"—he looked at me, and said, "Who are you? I don't know you; look here"—he turned the right side of his face towards me, and I saw that it was cut and looked very bad; it seemed to be lacerated—the blood was smothered on his face, the right side of his face seemed smothered with blood, just in front of the lower part of the ear—he whipped by me very quickly, and opened the left-hand door with his left hand—the manager, Mr. Minch, opened the right-hand door—I expected the prisoner was going out; but he stopped, planted himself firmly, and drew the revolver—I looked out in the direction he was pointing, and saw Lane in front, in the road, about four feet from the kerb—the footpath is about three yards wide—the prisoner took a very long aim at Lane—he was interrupted three times by persons passing across his sight—I was at his right-hand shoulder, close to him, just at the rear of him—Lane kept dodging, moving his body while the prisoner was taking aim, and as he was about to pull the trigger I knocked his arm up, just the front part of his elbow—his arm was nearly straight—I partly turned him round after he fired, and he partly turned himself—I said, "Give me that thing"—he said, "Who are you? I don't know you, you are not a policeman, I want a policeman"—I said, "Don't be a fool, man, give it to me"—as I was about to say I was a policeman some constables came up.
Cross-examined. There was no difficulty in seeing the blood on the side of his face—I was between him and Minch, and saw Minch holding the right-hand door—the prisoner looked bad and injured, as if he had had a severe blow on the head—I did not interfere with him while he was taking his aim—I did not assist the police in searching for the bullet.
November I heard a smash of glass in the bar—I went there and saw Lane lying on the floor and the prisoner kicking him—the manager was trying to take the prisoner away from Lane—I went over the bar to help the manager, the prisoner was struggling with him, and I put him against the corner—he said, "Let me get at him"—he muttered that two or three times—the manager was persuading Lane to go out—at last the prisoner got away, ran to the door and opened it with his left hand, pulled out the revolver and took a deliberate aim at Lane—I could see Lane from where I was; he was standing at the side of a lamp-post, in the gutter—I was at the side of the prisoner's arm when he was aiming the pistol, on his right side; the manager was at the side of me holding the right-hand door open as he held the left—I did not see Ready—I should say 40 seconds elapsed between the prisoner rushing to the door and firing the pistol; that is only a guess.
Cross-examined. When he fired I only saw the manager; he was by the side of me—I did not say before the Magistrate that he was behind me—I was too agitated to see anybody—I said before the Magistrate that he took a deliberate aim. (The deposition being referred to did not contain that remark)—the deposition is quite right; they did not ask me the question—it was the first time I had ever been in a Court—the blood on the prisoner's face was at the side of his ear, down the side of his face—it was only a little—it was more like a scratch than anything.
Re-examined. I saw Lane in the gutter when the prisoner was at the door; he had the revolver out—Lane was standing there looking at him when he fired.
EDWARD CROSS (Policeman E 282). On 1st November in the afternoon I heard a report of firearms—I was on duty opposite the George Inn, and near the Law Courts—I crossed over to the George—I saw a number of people and the witness Ready with the prisoner in custody, at least holding his arm detaining him—Ready said, "This man has fired a revolver at some man I do not know"—I took hold of him, and the prisoner handed the revolver to me—he said, "I did, I fired it in the air to call the attention of the police"—I am almost positive he did say those words—Ready had caught hold of the prisoner's right hand—I took him to the station—I am certain the prisoner said, "I fired in the air to call the attention of the police "when I took hold of him—I cautioned him on the way to the station not to say too much in this way—I said, "What you have to say tell the inspector at the station. "
Cross-examined. He handed me the revolver and said those words directly he saw me—he also said, "Here's the pistol, take care, it is loaded in four chambers"—that was true—he went with me quietly—he. gave an account to the inspector—I saw blood on the right-hand side of his cheek—he was excited.
By the COURT. There was not a large crowd—from 50 to 100 people gathered after the report of firearms—I was not there previous to the report—I had seen the ordinary line of people going backwards and forwards previously.
ALFRED HANSON (Inspector E). I was on duty when the prisoner was brought into the station—I heard some noise, and on entering the charge-room the sergeant was entering the charge—the first words I heard by the prisoner were, "I fired over the heads of the crowd, I was standing at the door, of the public-house, I can prove the case when I go before
the Magistrate; what about Bill Marney?"—Mahony, I think he meant, but I put it down on this paper, which I wrote at the time, "Marney"—"Marney brought him to my house, and represented him to me as a detective; I can prove that there were fifty people standing there"—Lane said something which I could not quite catch, there were so many talking at the time, but it was to the effect "You fired at me," and the prisoner said, "I could not have fired at you"—afterwards the prisoner said, "If I had put it into your head the devil a hair of my head would be hurted"—the charge was entered by this time, and it was read over to the prisoner, but he made no answer—about an hour afterwards I visited the prisoner in his cell—he said, "I fired right over the heads of the crowd, and I did it to bring the police; I knew that he had a whole crowd of men waiting for me, and if I went out alone they would have me; I am quite prepared to stand any consequence of firing the revolver; I did it deliberately, in order to attract the police"—I examined the revolver—four of the six chambers were loaded—one chamber had been recently discharged.
Cross-examined. A careful search has been made, but no bullet has been found—I noticed a recent mark about 15 to 20 feet above and left of the principal entrance of the Law Courts, but cannot tell whether it was a bullet mark or not—a bullet might have made it—the prisoner has been under police protection—police have been told off to watch his lodgings night and day, and see that he came to no harm since about the middle of September—the pistol, after firing, re-cocks, ready to fire again.
Re-examined. I cannot say who gave me the information as to the prisoner having police protection.
The Prisoners Statement before the Magistrate. "My conscience is as clear as yours on the bench, your worship. "
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for a common assau't on the said Patrick Lane, upon which Mr. Purcell offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, November 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND and MR. C. MATHEWS Prosecuted; MR. LAWLESS Defended.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 22nd, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Crown public-house in Rosoman Street, and went across the road to the urinal—I came out, and had got a little way off when three men knocked me down and got on top of me; I sang out for "Help" and "Police"—one of the men got his hand in my pocket—I afterwards missed 2s.—1s. was found in the gutter where I was lying after they ran away—I had 17s. 10 1/2 d. loose in my right-hand pocket when I came out of the public-house—when I arrived at Bagnigge Wells Police-station I found I had 16s. 9 1/2 d., including the 1s. I found—when I called "Police,' Mr. and Mrs. Newton came up and said, "It is poor old Daddy Baker," and the three men who were on me jumped up and ran away—my elbows were hurt—I saw the prisoner in the public-house—I recognise him as one of the men who assaulted me—I can swear he is the man that came out of the public-house with the other two men.
Cross-examined by Prisoner, You were in the public-house. Re-examined. I went in the public-house with two men whom I met coming up Exmouth Street—I did not know them before—I put down 6d. for a pot of beer, and the landlord gave me back 2d., which one of the two men took up; the landlord said, "You give the man the twopence back again"—I saw the prisoner speaking to those two men in the public-house—I believe they were some of the parties that were with him.
LUCY NEWTON . I am the wife of Charles Henry Newton, of 12, Allett's Place, Rosoman Street—about 10. 30 on this night I was with him near the Crown, and I saw Baker lying on his left side between Rosoman Street and Ardwick Street—two men were on him, and one was standing up against the hoarding—Baker called "Police"—I and my husband ran across the road and tried to catch the prisoner—he was one of the three men—I saw him deliberately take his hand out of Baker's right-hand pocket, and give something to another man—I called "Police"—they all got up and ran away—I and my husband ran after them—my husband caught the prisoner and held him till the policeman came—I never lost sight of him.
Cross-examined. The urinal is not a minute's walk from the Crown—it is across the road.
CHARLES HENRY NEWTON . I am the husband of the last witness—I am a labourer—I was returning home with her on this night—when we got to the urinal opposite the Crown, I saw Baker lying on his back or side, with three men on top of him—I thought he was tipsy, and walked on past three houses—Baker called out "Police"—I and my wife ran to his assistance, and as we did so the three men jumped up and ran away—I gave chase, and caught the. prisoner in Garnault Place, just by the beershop—I never lost sight of him—all the men ran in the same direction at first.
ARTHUR JAMES HALL (Policeman G 387). About 10. 45 on this night. I was on duty in Rosoman Street; I heard cries of "Police" and "Stop thief"—I ran and saw Baker lying on the ground just outside the urinal, and running from him, and about 60 or 70 yards away were three men—Newton and his wife were running too—I gave chase; I caught up the Newtons—one of the men turned down Garnault Mews, another down Eliza Place; I caught the prisoner in Garnault Place—Newton, who was about ten yards in front of me, stopped him—Mrs. Newton said, "That is one of the villains"—I took him—he said, "You have made a mistake,
governor; it is not me"—I said, "We will settle that when we get to the station"—I never lost sight of him.
Witnesses for the Defence. JOSEPH DOBBINS. I live at 101, Rosoman Street, and am a beerhouse keeper—you were in my house two hours previous to the prosecutor being there, and you were in three or four minutes afterwards.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor came in with two other men; I refused to serve him because he was too drunk—he said the two men were his friends—he put down 6d., and one of the men took up 2d. change, and I told him to give it back to the man—the prisoner was sitting down at the side, away from the prosecutor—I could not say if he saw the money produced—I saw no conversation between the prisoner and the two men—the prosecutor and the two men left together—the prisoner followed out very shortly after—I said a minute and a half before the Magistrate, but I was very busy, and could not say exactly—there were other customers—the urinal is just opposite my house.
SAMUEL KINGSNORTH . I am a journeyman fitter, of 12, Ellott's Place, Upper Rosoman Street—at 4.30 p. m. on this evening I called at the Crown; you were there—I went away, and returned about 9.30; you were there, with a parcel under your arm—I stayed there for an hour, and the prosecutor walked in about 10. 30—he was very badly intoxicated—two strange men followed him in, a second after him; he called for a pot of ale and put down 6d.—one of the two men picked up the 2d. change, and the landlord said it would not do in his house; "You had better give the gentleman his money back"—he did so—the prosecutor then got up and walked out, holding the money he had picked off the counter in his hand—the two men followed him out—after about three minutes you went out, wishing us all good-night, and taking your parcel—you said you were going to make water before you went home—immediately after you had gone out I heard screams; we all ran out—I saw the prosecutor running after some men—I cannot say who they were.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor had gone in the watering place; when I went to look for him after some time he was not there—it was at a quarter to 11 we looked for him in the watering-place—we did not see him there; he said he was going there—I do not know him—it was not the prosecutor but the witness who ran after the prisoner—I did not know the other two men—the two men were not close to the prisoner in the public-house—I was in the public-house with the prisoner about five minutes—other customers were there—I was not particularly noticing what was taking place—I was in the further bar; there might have been conversation between the prisoner and the two men—there were cries of "Police" very shortly after the prisoner went out of the public-house.
HENRY MCNALLY . I live at 11, Allett's Place, Rosoman Street, and am a harmonium bellows maker—you were in the public-house two or three hours previous to the prosecutor coming in—I was there all the time.
Cross-examimed. Two men came in with the prosecutor—they went out first; the prisoner went out five minutes after them I should say—he said he was going to the urinal opposite—he did not return—I said the prisoner went out two or three minutes after the prosecutor, before the Magistrate; it was more than two minutes—he went out before the cries
of "Police" were raised—I was sitting by the prisoner's side in the same compartment—two other men were in that compartment, too—I have known him a good many years—there was no conversation with the prisoner, the prosecutor and the other two men were talking together—the prosecutor was intoxicated, and the landlord refused to serve him; he put some money down which one of the men took up and put in his pocket.
The prisoner in his defence said that he came out of the urinal and saw the prosecutor lying down, and heard a cry, and saw the two men run, and having had a drop of drink he ran after them.
A. J. HALL (Re-examined). The prosecutor was drunk, but sober enough to charge the men—the prisoner had had a little drink.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted. ELIZABETH YOUNG . I am a hawker—I lived at Bounce's Road, Edmonton, for four months with the prisoner—on the afternoon of 31st October I was having tea in the front room with Thomas William Messenger, who I am living with—the prisoner came to the door and began to call me filthy names, and accused me of being her husband's wh—, which there was not the slightest provocation for—she is married—after that I went to get some water I met the prisoner in the passage.; she knocked the saucepan out of my hand, and struck me in the face with her fist, and I struck her back in her chest with my fist—she said, "All right; you see, if I cannot do you one way I will do you another"—she went into the kitchen, and came out with a knife in her hand and attempted to stab me three or four times—she meant it for my chest, my jacket body was undone and I put my hand up to stop it and was stabbed in the hand; Messenger came in between us and took the knife out of her hand—Messenger was going to take me to Dr. Dale, and near Edmonton Railway Station we met a constable—I went to a doctor who dressed the wound; it was very deep; there was blood down my dross and in the passage—I was laid up three weeks.
Cross-examined by Prisoner. I did not throw a pot of water over you—I did not accuse you of stealing a piece of flannel, and call you a thief; I merely told you the flannel had been torn up, and your son said you had used it—you said I was intimate with your husband—we had no quarrels before this that I know of, we were always friendly together—you commenced to row with me on the Friday night; you were always on to me whenever you got a drop of beer—you had been drinking throughout the day, when you came home; you looked the worse for drink.
By the JURY. I lodged on the ground floor, and the prisoner lived in the kitchen and slept upstairs—the prisoner's husband was in the kitchen at the time—he never interfered with her—I was at my front door—I had done nothing to give her cause for this—I was out, and did not see her husband from morning to night.
was at home in the evening at Mrs. Pinion's with Young—the prisoner, after being away for two or three days, came home a little the worse for drink, and accused Young of being her husband's wh—I was in the room at the time—Young was going to the washhouse for some water with a saucepan—the prisoner called her names—Young said her blanket had been torn, and said, "Your boy has told me you have taken it to make a house-flannel of"—the prisoner struck Young with her fist, and Young struck her back in the chest—the prisoner said, "All right, you c—; if I cannot do you one way, I will another"—I was sitting down bunching cabbage plants at the time—I got up from my seat and went to them, and I saw the prisoner make three or four stabs with a knife which she got from the kitchen, I believe; it was not two minutes from the time they struck each other—I caught the prisoner's wrist—she was going to stab her—I have got a scar on my arm now where the point of the knife ran into my arm as I was going to catch her wrist when she was going to strike Young—I was taking Young to Dr. Dale, and saw a constable standing up against the railway station, and I took her to him, and he took her to the doctor.
Cross-examined. Young was standing in the doorway, and you were facing her, and I was behind her—I saw you strike her first—I cannot say where you hit her. Re-examined. I am quite sure I saw the prisoner give the first blow.
MARTIN MORRIS (Policeman N 153). On 31st October about 8 o'clock a communication was made to me, and I took Young to the doctor at the dispensary—she opened her hand and the blood pumped up about a foot high out of it—I left her there and went to 3, Victoria Terrace, Lower Edmonton, where the prisoner lives—I found her quarrelling with her husband; she was the worse for drink; she called him several nasty names, and said it was a good job I had come in; that she would have done for him before she went to bed that night—I told her I had come to take her into custody for stabbing a woman in the hand—she said, "Yes, the c—, I did; I wish it was in the heart. I hope she is dead"—I said, "Where is the instrument you done it with"—she said she did not know—I searched, but could not find it—I took her to the station, and after she was charged I returned to her house and found this knife under some clothing on the kitchen table—I took it to the station, and asked her if that was the knife, and she said, "Yes"—there were other words, but the traffic was going by and I could not hear them—on the way to the station she said that if she had another chance she would do for her—she was bleeding from a cut over her eye, and she said her husband gave her that—I had a stitch put in it after she got to the station.
WILLIAM RICHARDSON (Sergeant N 49). On 31st October I took the charge against the prisoner at the station—she replied," She struck me first; what I did was in self-defence"—on the knife-being produced she said, "Yes, that is the knife I did it with"—I took that down at the time.
WILLIAM TODD . I am Master of Surgery at the University of Aberdeen, and M. R. C. S.—on this night about 8 o'clock the constable brought Young to my surgery, with a puncture in the palm of her right hand about in. deep, from which arterial blood was pumping—I arrested the bleeding with much difficulty; the woman was at death's door; I thought she would have died before I could arrest the hæmorrhage—she
remained in the surgery vomiting, and in a state of collapse for about an hour—the wound was dangerous from fatal syncope from the bleeding—the wound might have been occasioned by the point of this instrument.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I hit her in self-defence; she hit me first—that is all I have to say. "
The Prisoner, in her defence, said they had words together, and that Young flung a pot of water, and that then they hit one another, but that she could not say who hit first; that there was a knife on the table, and that she did it more to frighten her than anything else, and did not know what happened after that; and that before this happened her husband had knocked her down and kicked her in the back.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the Jury on the ground of the provocation she received. — Six Months' Imprisonment,
OLD COURT.—Friday, November 23rd, 1888.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins,
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted. NOT GUILTY .
MR. ARTHUR GILL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY ,
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
JOSEPH SEAL (Policeman C 355). About 8 in the morning of 6th October I was in Old Compton Street, Soho—I saw the prosecutor come from Fifth Street into Old Compton Street—I saw the prisoner with a revolver in his hand, presenting it at the prosecutor; he was between four and five yards from him; he then fired; the first shot did not strike him; he fired a second shot—the prosecutor had his face towards the prisoner, walking backwards; he staggered and fell—I made a rush at the prisoner, and took the revolver from him, and took him to the station—I afterwards saw the inspector examine it; it was loaded in four chambers.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner; he has only recently come to this country—he does not speak English at all—he is a hairdresser, and has been employed at a hairdresser's—I know where he worked and where he lived—this happened in the centre of the road, close to where he worked, and not far from where he lived—I was about nine or ten yards from them, on the same side of the road—I was in front of the prisoner—the prosecutor's back was to me—I did not hear the beginning of the matter—there were a few people about—the shots
went off immediately one after the other—I was not near enough to hear what they were saying—I saw the mark of a severe blow on the prisoner's temple—he did not resist me.
JAMES DALTON . I am a printer, and live in Hyde Place, Westminster—I was at the corner of Fifth Street, and noticed the prisoner and prosecutor talking together—they appeared to be quarrelling—the prosecutor struck the prisoner in the eye with his fist—the prisoner did not return the blow—they both walked up Fifth Street; the prisoner went into a shop, the prosecutor walked on—I next heard some loud talking, turned round and saw them both again, face to face—the prisoner fired at the prosecutor, who retreated backwards two or three yards—the prisoner fired again—I sprang upon him. and held him, and with the policeman took him to the station—between the first and second shot the prosecutor had gone from the kerb into the middle of the road.
Cross-examined. The last witness was in front of them when the shots were fired—it was a violent blow that the prosecutor struck the prisoner—I paused a moment, and then walked on, and they both walked up to me—when I heard the loud talking and turned round they were about two yards from me—I did not hear what they said, they spoke in a foreign language very loudly—they were close together when I heard the first shot; the second shot was in a few seconds. C HARLES ROHRBACH. I am a butcher, at the corner of Fifth Street and Old Compton Street—on the morning of 6th October I heard a shot fired in the street near my shop—I did not see who fired it—I then turned round and saw the prisoner fire again—he was standing in the middle of the road in front of a shop—I did not see who he was firing at.
Cross-examined. I heard the first shot, and as soon as I turned round I heard the second.
VALERIANO PERSICHETTI (interpreted). I live at 17, Frith Street—I have known the prisoner about four or five months, since he arrived in England—about 8 in the morning of 6th October I saw him and spoke to him, and after speaking to him I struck him—he went away and went into his shop—I did not see him come out—I saw him again in about a minute—I said to him, "If you have got a revolver, shoot me, or else I shall take it from you and put it at your throat"—I had not seen the revolver at that moment, but I had reason to believe that he had one—he answered me something which I do not now recollect, then I advanced on him to take the revolver from him, and in a moment, as I took hold to close his arms, the shots went off—I had my hands on him at the time—I was wounded in the thigh, and went to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I know it was a strong blow that I struck the prisoner, because his eye and face were quite black—I had struck him before—I do not think that he intended to shoot me.
WILLIAM HENRY VICKERY . I am house surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there on the 6th October—he had a small wound on the outer side of the middle of the right thigh in front, and at the back the bullet had lodged just underneath the skin; I extracted it, it was not a dangerous wound; he has quite recovered.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I had no intention to wound the prosecutor. "
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. To enter into his own recognisance in£50 to come up for judgment If called upon. (He had been 7 weeks in custody.)
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MESSRS. LAWLESS and G. A. BLACKWELL
ELLEN LUCAS . I am a furrier, of 24, Paul Street, Finsbury—on 9th October, about 7 in the evening, McKenzie came there—he introduced himself as Percy Rivington—he brought this letter—read, "8th October, 1888—American Stores, Liverpool—Dear Mrs. Lucas,—My friend Mr. Rivington, with whom I have done a large business in your goods, met me here yesterday, and I promised to give him a letter to you; he can buy largely, and is altogether a good man. Sell him what you can, and allow me the usual commission. I must ask you not to say anything about my past career to him or anyone else.—Yours truly, R. SYLVESTER."—I know Sylvester, and I thought the letter was his writing; I do not now think it is—McKenzie came again on the 10th, about 11 in the morning—he asked if I had got any good sealskin dolmans—I said I had some, and showed him several—he said he was a large buyer, and that he wanted the very best, and not to show him any common—he made a selection, and said he could take part of the goods with him, as he had a cab—he made out this cheque in my presence, for £105 18s., on the Birkbeck Bank—he signed it Percy Rivington—I endorsed it, and he crossed it, the London and County Bank, which is my bank—I paid it in—he selected a few things, and took them with him, and said the remainder was to be sent to No. 4, Chester Road, Highgate—about an hour or an hour and a half after he left I received this telegram—"Finsbury Square, October 10th—Rivington to Lucas—Don't forward goods; call in this evening"—he did call in the evening, and he asked if I had got a gentleman's fur travelling coat—he selected one at £7, and another sealskin dolman at £9 or £10; it amounted to £17—he then gave me this cheque for the amount, on the same bank—he took away all the goods he had bought in the morning, and the coat and dolman, in a cab—I paid the cheques into my bank the next day, and they were returned dishonoured—some weeks before this the prisoner Smith had come to my shop, and made a small purchase; and he asked me if I had seen Sylvester lately—I said I had not seen him for a very long time—he said he was in his company either a few nights or a few weeks previous; that his wife was dead, and that he was doing very well—I have since seen my goods, part of them are here.
cross-examined by Smith. I am quite sure you are the man that came to my place—when I picked you out at Old Street I also picked out another man who looked very like McKenzie—I did not pick out any body instead of you.
HENRY SPONG . I am in the service of Messrs. Attenborough, of 72, Strand—I produce some furs which were pawned at our place on 10th October for £22, about seven in the evening, by neither of the prisoners—there are two dolmans, one jacket, one minx dolman, five muff-bags, and two pieces of beaver trimming.
FRANK BOWERS . I am in the service of Mr. Harrington, pawnbroker, 41, Aldersgate Street—I produce one bag as a sample of 17 others and six fur collarettes, pawned on 11th October by McKenzie for £9 10s. THOMAS CORDELL. I am in the service of Mr. Barnett, of 318, High
Holborn—I produce a fur-lined coat, pawned on 15th October, for £4, to the best of my belief by McKenzie.
GEORGE FRY . I am a shirt and collar dresser, of 311, City Road—on 10th October McKenzie and Smith drove up to my place between nine and ten at night—Smith said, "I have got a nice lot of stuff to sell"—I asked him what stuff it was—he said, "Sealskin jackets and muff-bags"—I said they were no use to me; I could not buy them—he said, "You have no occasion to be afraid of the goods," and he pulled out a receipted invoice and showed me—he looked out four jackets, six muff-bags, and a muff, and said, "I will leave them here on approbation "—I said, "You can leave them, but I can't buy them, but I might find you a customer"—they were left—next day I saw a Mr. Bernhardt in the City, and he came to my place on the evening of the 12th; McKenzie came about five minutes afterwards, and I said to Bernhardt, "There is the man that belongs to those goods, perhaps you can do business with him"—they were together about a quarter of an hour—at the finish Bernhardt bought the goods and took them away with him.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I had never seen McKenzie before 10th October—I had known Smith for some time.
Cross-examined by Smith. I do not know whether it was you or McKenzie that showed me the invoice—I have known you for some years; I always knew you as a respectable man.
ALFRED BERNHARDT . I am a furrier of 21, East Road—on 12th October I saw McKenzie at Fry's, and there I bought four jackets, six bags, and a muff of McKenzie—no one else was there—I took this receipt for them—I have part of the goods here—I gave £25 for them—McKenzie signed the receipt for them "Jas. Dawson"—I did not know his name at the time—I produce six bags, one muff, and two jackets—I have sold some—I did not ask McKenzie any questions about them—Mr. Fry told me to call, and knowing him I bought them.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I gave a fair market value for them—I never did any business with Fry—I think it was between three and four In the afternoon when I went there—McKenzie was the only man I saw.
ARTHUR CHARLTON . I keep the Prince of Wales Tavern in Drury Lane—I have known McKenzie for some years, but have not seen him for some time—I saw him on 13th October last at my house, and advanced him £5 on the security of these pawn-tickets (produced).
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I first knew him 12 or 14 years ago—I have always known him to be a highly honourable man, and I had no idea he was different till this time.
WALTER DINNIE (Police Officer). On 18th October I took McKenzie into custody on a warrant—I addressed him as Percy Rivington—he said, "My name is not Rivington, it is McKenzie"—Smith was with him—Sergeant Sexton took him—I found some papers on McKenzie—there is a letter from S. Kenniston, the prosecutor in another indictment, but nothing relating to this case—McKenzie gave me an address, 123, New North Road—I went there, and found this cape and boa, which I have produced—on the 20th I took Bullock into custody, and found on him these three blank cheques of the Birkbeck Bank—I examined them with the cheque-book that I have here—they appear to have come out of. it;
they bear the same number—I found this cheque-book in a portmanteau at the address Bullock gave, where I found the three cheques—I asked Bullock where the remaining part of the cheque-book was—he said, "You will find it in my portmanteau at my address—he said he did not know McKenzie, but he had known Smith for a considerable time—when I arrested Bullock I told him I was an officer, and had reason to suspect that he was concerned in this matter—he said that he bought the cheque book in a public-house of a man since dead, whose name he did not remember.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I know that he is in the habit of buying odds and ends—he said he had given some of these cheque forms to Smith—he did not say anything about Mrs. Lucas—I know nothing against him.
Cross-examined by Smith. When you were placed among others to be identified, McKenzie was not present, because his identification was not required—Mrs. Lucas identified him as the man who had come to her and obtained the goods—she identified you as Smith.
By the COURT. Bullock was living in two poor small rooms, in rather an old house at Peckham, with his wife, who is blind—I cautioned him previous to putting questions to him—he did not say what he gave for the old cheque-book—he did not say whether he had any account at the Birkbeck, or that Smith had told him that he, Smith, had an account there.
CORNELIUS SEXTON (Police Officer). I arrested Smith on 18th October—I told him I should take him to Scotland Yard on suspicion of being concerned with McKenzie, who had just been arrested—he said, "How?"—I said, "On a charge of obtaining goods by means of a false cheque on the Birkbeck Bank"—he replied, "I thought as much"—I searched him and found these papers on him and a pawn-ticket for a fur coat pawned by Jno. McKenzie—it has nothing to do with this case—I found these six blank cheque forms on Smith; they appear to come from this book.
FREDERICK RUDLAND . I am employed at the London Stone Tavern, Cannon Street—I know Bullock as a daily customer there—I know Smith by coming in occasionally to see Bullock—I have seen them conversing together within a week or fortnight before they were taken on this charge.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I have seen Bullock doing business with pawn-tickets—I have known him buy tickets from different persons—I have never seen any of the articles.
Cross-examined by Smith. I have seen Bullock buy and sell pawn-tickets for watches and chains—I have seen as many as 100 or 200 tickets in his possession at one time, and a case consisting of watches and chains and such things—it is not an unusual thing in this public-house to deal with such things—I have never seen it done in any other house.
FRANK LOMATCH . I am a clerk in the Birkbeck Bank, Southampton Buildings—this cheque-book was given to Eugene Hayman on 10th October, 1884—the account has been closed since 27th July, 1887—the loose cheques produced have all been taken out of that cheque-book—I believe neither of the prisoners have any account at our bank; I can't say for certain—we have so many customers, we may possibly have the name of McKenzie, but nothing to do with this McKenzie.
house—Smith asked for note-paper, pen and ink and an envelope—I gave him them, and he wrote a letter—McKenzie was with him while he wrote it—to the best of my belief this is the piece of paper I handed to him (on which the letter to Mrs. Lucas was written)—I would not swear to it; it seems exactly the same; we have a lot more of it in the house.
Cross-examined by MR. BLACKWELL. I am manager of the house for the Official Receiver in Bankruptcy—it was after three in the afternoon when they came; they remained about half or three-quarters of an hour—Smith was very particular about the pen, which made me notice him—I gave him two pens with bad knibs, and then I gave him a good one.
Cross-examined by Smith. I had been manager twenty-two days—I have not seen you there writing letters at different times—there is a desk with the directories for the use of customers—there was no paper there.
ELLEN LUCAS (Re-examined). Sylvester is a man who did business with us before my husband died—there was. nothing wrong about him that I ever heard—the passage in the letter about his past career I thought alluded to the trouble he had had about his wife's drinking habits—I saw him write years ago—this letter is not his writing; he always signed "R. C. Sylvester"—the letter is signed" R. Sylvester. "
Smith's Defence. Mrs. Lucas is entirely mistaken in regard to my having gone to her place; I never saw her till I saw her at the station—as to the letter Payne speaks about, I have written dozen of letters in that house, but I never wrote one with the name of Sylvester attached, and never heard the name—there are plenty of people in London who know me and my writing well, and the police have got no one here to prove it.
McKENZIE and SMITH— GUILTY of conspiracy.
BULLOCK— NOT GUILTY .
McKENZIE also PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for obtaining goods and money by false pretences —McKENZIE, Nine Months' Hard Labour. —SMITH, Six Monty Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, November 23rd, 1888.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY for the prosecution offered no evidence, the defendant undertaking, through his Counsel, MR. COCK, Q. C., to withdraw the circulars.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. KISCH Defended.
CHARLES GEORGE TIMMS . I am a clerk in the Affidavit Department of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce an affidavit filed by the defendant in an action in which the Mutual Loan Fund Association are the plaintiffs and Rees Lodwick Price and Walter A. Barlow are the defendants.
of St. Paul's Church Yard—I have had business transactions and correspondence with the defendant—he owed me money, and on 27th May, 1886, I drew this bill on him for £24 18s. 6d.; he accepted it in my presence at the Tavistock Hotel—I did not see him write it, but it was given to me before he left the room; it is payable at the Bristol Bank, Cardiff—he lived at Cardiff—I paid the bill to the Mutual Loan Fund Association, and subsequently had notice that it was dishonoured, and communicated with the defendant about it, and in January this action was commenced against me and the defendant—I swore this affidavit after reading the defendant's affidavit—this is my usual signature on this bill, and the same signature which I used in corresponding with the defendant.
Cross-examined. The bill was accepted after midnight, but not quite so late as three a.m.—I was dining with him, or he with me—taking the signature apart from the rest of the bill I should be very 10th to swear to it—he, usually signs "R. Lodwick Price"—I have had so many letters from him that I cannot tell how many—my clerk has made a search, and he only brought me two of the defendant's letters signed "R. L. Price"—I made the investigation in view of the affidavit which the defendant had made—I have never been known by the name of Barber—I have never been known to Mr. Price by any other name than Barlow, of 6, St. Paul's Church Yard—I do not think he knew my private address, 71, Myddelton Square: he never saw me there—this statement of claim is not absurd in my opinion, but it is a contradiction—I took this acceptance to the Mutual Loan Association within a fortnight of the day I received it, and more likely within a week—they gave me nothing for it—they discount bills of exchange—I gave it to them on account of my indebtedness—the discount would be about 1s. 6d. in the pound on the amount—it would be between 30s. and £2 for three months—I believe I communicated to the defendant that I had left the bill with them prior to his being communicated with by Mr. Price in January, 1887—I do not think there is a doubt that he was communicated with in respect to the bill between the due date in August, 1876, and January, 1887, but I cannot swear it—I have a letter-book, but cannot say whether I copied the letter—I believe I had a letter from him on 22nd March, 1887, twelve days after he had sworn his affidavit—I did not personally attend before the Judges—I was introduced to the defendant by Messrs. David and Woolley, about October, 1884; he had arranged certain advances with them with regard to their bringing out certain patents—he was to make all payments and receive all moneys, and he and I were to work together, and we have worked together for some years—there have been proceedings, and he has paid me £600 or £700 in those proceedings by his own cheques—I saw him in London in May, 1887, and asked him to give me some further cheques on account of the business, as I was pressed—I said, "Well, accept a bill; that will answer my purpose, and you send in your bill of costs, and if the amount is due I will take it up, and if it is the other way you will take it up," or something to that effect—I had not sent in my bill—I may have instructed Messrs. Cotsworth to make out my bill and send it to the defendant—they did not refrain from sending it in because it was not enough—it has not been sent in, and I will tell you why; the bill was a heavy one, and when it went down to Cardiff it would simply have been waste paper—I knew Mr. Price's accounts
were very complicated—I think he has spent quite £1,200; there have been very heavy Counsel's fees for Mr. Theodore Aston and other gentlemen—I have seen him in London while the proceedings were pending, and done business with him, and he has been at my office—he was not disguised—he came up to London at the time of the summons, and could hardly walk.
Re-examined. I saw him at the Police-court when he came in answer to the summons, and his foot was bad—I know nothing except from hearsay, about his being advised to stay away from Cardiff and it would all blow over—I have heard within the last few days only that he suggested that I am the person who ought to have paid the bill, but I never heard the suggestion from him before or after the bill matured—he wrote this letter to me on March 22nd, 1887, after I had sworn my affidavit in the action. (This requested the witness to see the Plaintiffs and get them to accept the debt and cash by instalments as he had spent£1,200 on the patents)—there is no suggestion there that I am the person who ought to have paid the bill—I have not paid it—I suppose the credit has been annulled in the books of the association—these three letters of October, 1886, January, 1887, and June 2nd, 1887, signed "R. L. Price," are in the defendant's writing; there is no substantial difference between them and the signature on the bill—I was sober, and I believe he was sober when he signed till—we had had a glass or two of whisky after dinner, and had been for the evening—if it had not been for the conjunction of his ordinary writing and my own writing on the bill, I should have been very 10th to believe it—on 28th September, 1886, I wrote to him saying, "I think you ought to have provided for my acceptance, and now you say nothing about it;" that was after the bill was dishonoured; I do not think I had any reply to that—I saw him one day at an hotel in Holborn, but that was when the substantial part of the business was concluded.
By MR. KISCH. His invariable signature to cheques was "R. Ludwick Price"—I had 600 or 700 from him in connection with the business.
CHARLES ROBERT WRIGHT . I am Secretary of the Mutual Loan Association, Limited—I received this bill of exchange from Mr. Barlow—it was like a post-dated cheque—we charged him nothing for it—we presented it at maturity through our bankers, and it was returned endorsed, "Orders not to pay"—I communicated with Mr. Barlow, and in January we communicated with the defendant, and received this reply, dated 12th January, 1887, and signed," R. L. Price," the same as on the bill—in reply to that I wrote a letter on 13th January, of which this is a copy. (Stating that the bill had been held over at the drawer's request)—in answer to that I received this letter, dated January 15th, from the defendant, saying," My cousin, Mr. Ewens, will see you on Monday in reference to your two letters to me"—I think Mr. Ewens called, and I think I saw him—nothing came of it, and on February 21st I issued this writ.
Cross-examined. I think Mr. Ewens said that he would communicate with Mr. Price—he came to see me in reference to it, and have a chat—I do not recollect the conversation—I will not swear he did not say that he should be able to pay it soon—he may have proposed that I should sue Barlow, and that the defendant would identify me against any costs if I did not get it from Barlow; at any rate he never disputed that the defendant accepted it—the interview with me was in consequence of
a letter of January 15th, 1887—it may have been a week after the letter—it did not exceed two or three weeks—I cannot say whether it was before the end of February—I think it was before I instructed my solicitor—the defendant would know that I had the bill because if they presented it at his bankers they would forward it to him—I had financial transactions with Mr. Barlow, and he was indebted to me—he was to have credit for the full amount—I charged him about 20 per cent, interest, not 45—I have a bill of sale on him—I handed Mr. Beard, my solicitor, the bill on some date subsequent to January, 1887—when I made my affidavit the bill was before me at Mr. Beard's office or before the Commissioner—I most likely read it over—paragraph I says "This action is brought to recover principal and interest on a bill of exchange drawn by the defendant, Walter A. Barbour"—that is not true—I admit that I have made a mistake if that is so—I have apparently deliberately sworn what is not correct—I made two affidavits—I made the second after the defendant's, and Mr. Barlow must have made his after the defendant's—when the defendant made his affidavit the only affidavit in existence was this of mine of March 24th—the true defendant was Barlow, and not Walter A. Barber—I am afraid that in my affidavit, which I filed after the defendant's affidavit, I still continued to adopt the suggestion that Walter A. Barber was the defendant—I have no entry of when we received this bill—we did not give him credit for it—we took it, and I should credit it when it was paid—we put it in a case to be presented when due, and although the title was passed to us we did not enter it—we received it about June, soon after it was made it was due in August—we made no communication to the defendant about it for nearly six months, but I wrote to Barlow at once—he asked us not to press; he owed us more money, and we were pressing him—if he had brought us money we should have taken it on the ordinary loan—we should have kept it till we had cleared him off our books—there are no shares in the market—Mr. Barlow did not arrange with us, only to look to him—he did not want us to press Price—we served notice of dishonour on Mr. Barlow next day, but we did not give the defendant notice of the dishonour by our Society.
WALTER JAMES WESTCOTT BEARD . I am one of the firm of Messrs. Beard and Sons, solicitors—we are solicitors to the Mutual Loan Fund Association—we issued this writ—I do not think it was served on Barlow—it was served on Price by my agent at Cardiff—on March 5th I received a notice, and an appointment was made for the 10th, when the defendant and a clerk in the office of Messrs. Bell, Brodrick, and Gray attended at my office and inspected the bill—that was two days before application was made before the Master—the Master gave leave to defend, and we then applied to a Judge, and produced Mr. Barlow's affidavit; and Mr. Justice Manisty gave us judgment—the defendant paid nothing under that judgment; and in June, 1887, we took proceedings against him for perjury—he appeared at the Mansion House on the first occasion, and the case was adjourned to July 13th, when he did not appear, and a warrant was issued.
Cross-examined. I do not agree with you that this affidavit as it stands is nonsense; it is a contradiction—the bill is fully set out—there was no promissory note; it is a bill of exchange—there are no joint and several makers—I did not take Mr. Wright to the Commissioner—the affidavit is
prepared from the heading of the action, and whoever prepared it would have it before him—I read Wright's affidavit before it went out to be sworn—I had this writ before me—the copy of the bill put before Price was Walter A. Barber; the writ was wrong as well—the only notice he had was Walter A. Barber—the Barber was wrong, but the signature might be taken for Barbour—I adopted the Barber on the writ—Barlow was not served with a copy of it to my knowledge, nor have we got judgment against him, because we were not instructed—I am not sure he was not served—these affidavits are not the only documents, there was a letter—I agree with you that under Order 14 the defendant answers the affidavit made against him—a defendant is bound in answering an affidavit to apply his mind to the cause of action; he ought to answer the affidavit—on this affidavit the name is first written Barber, then Barbour, and then Barlow—I had the bill to look at if I wished it—I was present when he came to see it; my managing clerk was there, but he was about other business.
FREDERICK LAWLEY (City Detective Sergeant). On 13th July, 1887, a warrant was placed in my hands—I went to Cardiff, remained there a week, and used every effort to trace the defendant—I had the address on his letters, but could not find him—on 29th October I saw him in the City, and said, "Mr. Price, I am a police-officer; I hold a warrant for your arrest, on a charge of perjury"—he said, "Oh, I thought that had blown over, and I thought I should be safe if I kept away from Cardiff"—he was charged at the station, and made no reply.
Cross-examined. I arrest a good many people—I made no notes; I have a good memory. The prisoner received an excellent character—
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
JOSEPH BAKER . I am a merchant, of 13, Villiers Street, Brixton—on 25th October, at 1.15, I was in St. Paul's Churchyard, wearing a watch in my left waistcoat pocket, attached to this chain—being a very hot day I threw my coat open, and two young men came before me and stopped my going on—I cannot swear to the prisoner, because my sight is bad—he is about the same age and height and moustache, but he was smarter dressed than he is now—I pushed one man into the road, but he had got my watch then—he said, "Don't be in a passion," and then I saw my chain hanging down—I saw my watch safe ten minutes before.
Cross-examined by Prisoner, I did not pick you out from others; they asked me if I could swear to you and I said, "No. "
JAMES MAYNE (Policeman G 197). On 25th October, at 2 p.m., I was in Central Street, St. Luke's, and saw the prisoner go up President Mews and knock at the door of No. 1, where a reputed receiver of stolen property lives—two other men ran out of the Mews into Rahere Street—a van was stopping at the corner of the Mews—the prisoner ran past it, and I caught him about 17 yards from the corner of the Mews, and said, "What have you got about you?"—he threw his arms out and said, "I have nothing, governor"—I found nothing on him, and let him go—a woman spoke to me, and I went back and found this watch in the bottom
of the van which the prisoner had passed, and this glass about 2 ft. from it, unbroken—the other two men did not pass the van—I saw the prisoner at Old Street Station at 1.30 a.m. on the 26th.
Cross-examined. When I searched you in the day you had on a hard felt hat and a black coat and waistcoat, and at the station you had a soft felt hat with a dent in it, and a scarf, different trousers, and no coat.
Re-examined. He is wearing the same clothes now which he wore when I saw him in Old Street.
CAROLINE GIBBONS . I am the wife of Thomas Gibbons, of 38, Rahere Street, opposite President Mews—on October 25th, in the middle of the day, I opened my window and looked out, and saw something glittering in a van there—I told the policeman—I did not see the prisoner.
JOSEPH WILSON . I am a carman, of 7, Brady's Buildings, Bethnal Green—I left my van on this afternoon for a short time at the corner of Rahere Street, and when I came back I found a watch in it with the glass out, and lying some distance from it—I saw two men opposite who appeared to be fighting.
THOMAS STANLEY (Policeman G 42). I received a description, and took the prisoner in Old Street at one a. m. on 26th October—I said that he answered the description of a person I wanted for the unlawful possession of a gold watch at two p. m.—he made no answer, but at the station he said, "I know nothing about it"—he was wearing the clothes he has on now.
Cross-examined. The description I had, only answered to your face, height, and figure; your dress did not tally—I stood at the corner of a doorway where there was a gaslight, and I saw your face, and I followed you some distance up Old Street, and met you full under a lamp.
Prisoner's Defence. I was apprehended at one o'clock in the night in the dark by the description of the clothes I am wearing now, He Knows he is telling a falsehood; he had seen me the same day in the same clothes. I can swear I know nothing about it.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, November 23rd, 1888.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
48. HENRY SMITH (50) and JOSEPH CHARLES SHEPPERD (45) , Breaking and entering the Bloomsbury Mission Hall, and stealing a metal flagon and other articles, the goods of William Harrison and others; Second Count, Stealing the goods and breaking out of the hall; Third Count, Receiving the goods.
SMITH PLEADED GUILTY . — Ten Months' Hard Labour. MR. TICKELL Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended Shepperd. HENRY FRANKLIN . I live at 49, Frith Street, Soho, and am a clerk in the City and caretaker of the-Mission Hall, Meard Street, Soho, a licensed place of worship—I fastened up the hall and secured it safely on Tuesday night, 9th October, about eleven o'clock—on that day Smith had been engaged at the hall as a porter—the communion service was kept underneath the platform in a drawer—I had seen it safely there on the previous Sunday, 7th October—the drawer was out of repair—it was not locked—this flagon and these three cups and three plates are part of the communion service that was stolen—they are not silver.
Cross-examined. There is no mark on them and nothing peculiar about them; they are ordinary cups and flagon—altogether, including the flagon, the price to purchase them would be £7 to £10—Smith was employed as porter and odd man to do odd jobs—I have known him over two years—I cannot tell if he had other employment.
JAMES WEST . I am an engineer, living at 31, Dean Street, Soho—on 28th October I went with Detective-sergeant Drew to Shepperd's shop in Lebanon Street, Walworth—it was a general shop, I should call it a chandler's—there was no hardware there—I saw Shepperd there—Drew said, "Would you have any objection to showing this gentleman that coffee-pot that you have?"—he said, "Certainly not"—he brought out this flagon from the cheffonier close by, and handed it to me—I looked at it, and recognised it as the property of the Meard Street Mission Hall—the same day I accompanied Drew to Woburn Mews, where Smith lives.
Cross-examined. The chalice was brought from the sideboard at the back of the shop—it was slightly hidden—I should not have seen it if I had not looked for it—it was on the top of the cheffonier—I did not hear the conversation about his having taken it to Towns to have it valued—I was not present the whole time—I heard no conversation about the breaking into the Mission House—I heard nothing while I was trying to identify it—I had it in my hand three or four minutes, and then I nodded, and said to Drew," Yes"—after that I heard no conversation, I went out of the shop—I was scarcely in it five minutes—I came away, leaving Drew and Shepperd together, and waited outside—we went to Smith's—a friend of mine had the chalice under his arm then—he had gone in the shop after I came out—Sunday morning was the first and only time I went to the shop.
By the COURT. I am one of the deacons at this Mission Hall—Smith was an odd man there—we put all manner of employment we could in his way—he had no stated wages.
REVEREND WILLIAM HARRISON . I have charge of the Bloomsbury Mission, Meard Street, Soho—the communion service used there belongs to a committee, of which I am a member—the value of it is about £7—it is electro-plate silver, I think—on Wednesday, 10th October, the loss of the service was reported to me by Mrs. Franklin—I have the certificate transferring a license to the place.
Cross-examined. I cannot swear to the identity of this service; from its general appearance I believe it is ours.
ELIZABETH FRANKLIN . I am the wife of Henry Franklin, of 49, Frith Street, Soho—I am caretaker of the Mission Hall—on Wednesday, 10th October, about quarter to eleven, I went into the hall by the back entrance in Richmond Buildings—I found the door leading to the gallery open; that was an unusual thing; as a rule it is always shut, and mostly locked—the door leading into the hall was open—I went down to the yard, and found the street door leading into Meard Street open—the door of the cupboard in which the communion plate is kept was very slightly open, and I missed the communion service—I identify these three cups and three plates as part of the service.
JOHN DENNY (Police Inspector A). From information received, at four o'clock on the afternoon of 10th October I examined the Mission Hall—I found in the street door leading to the hall the top screw of the
box of the lock was unscrewed and twisted on one side, so as to ease the bolt of the lock; by those means anyone could leave the hall and walk into the street—someone had broken out from the inside in that manner.
CHARLES DREW (Detective Sergeant C). About three o'clock in the afternoon of 27th October, I went to 31, Lebanon Street, Walworth—I there saw Shepperd—it is a general grocer's shop—I said, "Are you Mr; Shepperd?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and I am given to understand that you took a chalice jug to Mr. Town's, pawnbroker, Portland Street, Walworth, about a fortnight ago to have it valued"—he said, "Yes, I did"—I said, "What have you done with it?"—he said, "I have still got it"—I said, "Could you let me see it?"—he said, "Yes," and produced the flagon from the side of a small cabinet standing on the cheffonier in the parlour—you would have had to go to the end of the room and look at the back of the cabinet to see it—it was hidden from view going into the room, but was not covered over, not secretly disposed—I said, "Can you give me any account of how you became possessed of this?"—he said "Yes, my brother brought it here a few weeks ago, and I lent him 12s. 6d. on it"—I said "Did he bring anything else with him?"—he said, "Yes, some cups and plates, but I have since taken them back to him"—I said, "This chalice jug answers the description of one that has been stolen, and I shall ask you not to part with it until you see me again"—he said, "Very well"—I had not seen the chalice before, and could not identify it—next day, 28th October, at half-past ten, I went with Detective Walters and Mr. West to the shop, for West to identify it if he could—I saw Shepperd in the shop—I said, "Would you mind letting me see that chalice jug again?"—Shepperd produced the chalice jug, and Mr. West identified it as being the property of the Mission Hall—I said to Shepperd, "This property is now identified as having been stolen; I must ask you to accompany me to your brother's"—(on the Saturday I had asked him where his brother lived, and he gave the address Woburn Mews)—his daughter came into the room then, and the prisoner said to her, "This is a nice thing; this and those other things have been stolen"—she said, "What a good job you took the other things back"—we left the house then—I said, "Yesterday you told me you had taken the other articles back to your brother's; therefore you ought to know where he lives"—he said, "I am not sure that I do know"—I said, "That being so you may be charged with stealing these articles, as they are found in your possession shortly after they were stolen"—he said, "I may as well tell the truth. I never took them back to my brother; I gave them to my wife to pawn, which she did at Davidson's, in Waterloo Road; if you see her when you go back she will give you the ticket"—this conversation took place in the street walking towards Walworth Road—shortly after we met his wife in the street—the prisoner said to her, "We are going to find Harry. When this officer comes back give him the ticket of those other things"—we then went to Bedford Place, Russell Square, and after a short time I saw Smith with Detective Walter—I said to Shepperd, pointing to Smith, "Is this the man you referred to as your brother?"—he said, "Yes"—I said to Smith, "Your brother here informs me that you took this jug and some other articles to his place a few weeks ago"—the jug was then in
possession of a person who had accompanied Mr. West—Smith said "Yes"—I said, "Can you give me any account of how you became possessed of them?"—he said, "A man gave them to me in the street"—I said, "Do you know who the man is?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Then you will be charged with stealing this jug and the other articles from the Bloomsbury Mission Hall on the 10th of the month"—he said, "All right, let us get away from here"—this was in Bedford Place—I said to Shepperd, "You will be charged with receiving this property, knowing the same to have been stolen"—he turned to Smith and said, "Here is a nice mess you have got me into"—they were taken to the staition and charged, neither made any reply—in the afternoon of the same day I went to Shepperd's wife, and she handed me this pawn-ticket. (This was a ticket for three plated waiters and three goblets pledged for 30s. in the name of Ann Shepperd, of 10, Stamford Street),
Cross-examined. "When Shepperd said to Smith, "Here is a nice mess you have got me into"—Smith said, "I am very sorry for it," I think—I told Shepperd I was a police-officer when I first went there, and all the information he gave was with the knowledge that he was speaking to a police-officer—he told me Smith was his brother, but that he had not seen him for a good many years—Smith was coming from the direction of Woburn Mews when I met him—he lives there—when I asked Shepperd on the Saturday where his brother lived, he said, "Somewhere in Woburn Mews"—that is correct—there are two Woburn Mews—there are stables there, people live over them—Shepperd told me Smith had recently been married, and that he thought the plated goods were the property of his brother's wife, and that he had not seen him for three years—he gave me every information from first to last.
Cross-examined. On the way to the station Smith made a clean breast of it—he said that he had stolen this property—I had him in custody—the others were on in front—he pleaded Guilty at the Police-court, and has done so here—he lives at Woburn Mews, which are close to Bedford Place—he is married; I saw his wife when I went there—he lives over a stable—I went to his room.
HENRY TOWNS . I am a pawnbroker, at 32, Portland Street, Walworth—on Wednesday, 10th October, between three and four, Shepperd came to my shop with this flagon—he wanted to know if it was silvers—I examined it, and told him it was not—I asked him how he became possessed of it—he said, "I had it from my brother"—I asked how his brother became possessed of it—he said, "My brother is a dealer, and he bought it in the usual way of trade. "
Cross-examined. He said he had lent his brother money on them—we never take in plated goods—he left his card with his right name and address on it—I cannot remember accurately what he said about his brother, other people were in the shop at the time—I had more than one hundred transactions that day—the prisoner was very open in the matter, there was no disguise about it—he said when he left his card, "You know my wife, name of Shepperd"—I said, "Yes, I do," and I believe her to be a very honest, respectable woman—I have known her for eighteen months.
Cross-examined. The correct name, Shepperd, was given—I have known Mrs. Shepperd for a considerable time—she has frequently on Saturday nights put things in pledge with us.
SHEPPERD— NOT GUILTY .
The COURT commended the conduct of Mr. Towns and Detective Drew.
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted. EDWARD GROVE . I am assistant to Henry King, a butcher, of 6, Central Meat Market—on 26th October the prisoner came to me and said, "A top piece for Hibbert"—I delivered it to him—its weight was 12 st. 5 lbs., and the value £2 2s.—Hibbert carries on business at St. Albans—he has been a customer of ours for years—previously to the prisoner coming for the beef Hibbert had been and bought it, and left it in my charge—I delivered the beef to the prisoner and he took it away—about a quarter of an hour after the prisoner's brother, a porter, came and asked for a top piece of beef in the name of Hibbert—he went away, and returned with Hibbert—I went out with Hibbert and saw the prisoner standing just outside the market on the rank, I said to him, "What have you done with the top piece?"—he said, "I have not had it; I have not been in the shop to-day"—I gave information and a description of the prisoner to the police—on the following morning he was brought to me; I was asked if I identified him; I did, and gave him into custody—I went to the Police-court twice—I did not see the prisoner among others—I was not quite certain of him at first—on the Saturday I said I had a doubt about him, because I did not care about going on with the case, and knowing no other way of having it dismissed I said I had a doubt—he was with the officer then, no one else—I never had the slightest doubt he was the man—my customer is Kiff, who trades in the name of Hibbert.
Cross-examined by Prisoner. I delivered the beef to you about twelve o'clock.
JAMES KIFF . I am assistant to Mrs. Hibbert, a butcher, of Albert Street, St. Albans—on 26th October I bought a top piece of beef at Mr. King's shop—Grove was there and weighed it for me—I did not send the prisoner for it; he did not bring me a piece of beef—I sent his brother for it—he did not bring if to me, and I went to Mr. Kind's.
JAMES MACNALLY . I am a porter, No. 227, in the Meat Market—the prisoner is a porter in the market—on 26th October I saw him (prisoner) in the Meat Market several times—about a quarter past twelve I saw him fetching a top piece of beef from the direction of Mr. King's shop—he had the meat on his shoulder—he placed it in a recess in the wall, and covered it over with a cloth—I was away about four or five minutes, and when I returned, it and the prisoner were gone.
WILLIAM DAY . I am a porter in the Meat Market—on 27th October I went to Guildhall Police-court and heard the case against Marsh—after the remand we walked along to the first public-house we could see, and had a drink of beer—I said to the prisoner, "You must have been a guy to go and do that; I suppose you did not get above half a sovereign for
it"—he said, "That is just what he gave me"—I said to my brother and Evans, "See how he comes it. He is a wide 'un already"—I did not ask who he meant by "he."
JOHN EVANS . I am a porter at the Metropolitan Meat Market—on 27th October I was with the prisoner and Day—when we came out of the public-house Day said, "You must have been a fool to do that; I suppose you did not get above half-a-sovereign for it"—the prisoner said, "That was what I did get for it"—I do not remember seeing the prisoner before this—I was in Court when Day gave evidence.
EBENEZER MEARS . I am chief constable at the Central Markets—on 26th October Grove came to me a little after three, and from what he said I went next morning to a common lodging-house in Holborn—I saw Marsh there about a quarter-past 7—I said, "There has been a robbery down at the Meat Market, and they suspect you of committing it. Will you come down to Mr. King's shop with me?"—we went into the shop together, and Grove said, "That is the man"—I said to him, "Is there any doubt about it?"—he said, "No, not the slightest"—I said, "What do you wish to do with him?"—he said, "Give him into custody"—he was taken to the station and charged—he said in answer, "It is a lie; I have not been in the shop. "
The Prisoner in his defence denied having been in Mr. King's shop on this day.
GUILTY . — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
MICHAEL HERTZBERG . I live at 3, Wells-street, St. George's—on the night of 15th November, at half-past ten or a quarter to eleven, I was in the Golden Lion public-house in Leman Street, having a pot of beer—the prisoner came to me and said, "Are you Jack the Ripper?"—I said, "Do I look like Jack the Ripper?"—he said, "I want to know if you are"—I took it for a joke, and said "Yes"—he touched me all round and said, "You have got some revolvers around you"—I waited a little while and then went out—he came out after me and. followed me with four boys—he took me by the arm and neck and said, "You are Jack the Ripper, I am going to bring you into the Police-Station"—I was very satisfied, because all the people knew me in Leman Street as an honest man—they took me along and took 5s. out of my left-hand trousers pocket from out of a pocket-book, and knocked me on the back side—the prisoner was the only one on my left side—I saw him take my pocket-book out—he and the others knocked me, and I called "Police"—the police came, and the prisoner and the others ran away—I made a complaint to the police, and we went to look for the prisoner, and half an hour after we found him in the public-house—I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. I did not say to anybody that I was Jack the Ripper when I came into the public-house—I did not dance about the publichouse and say so—I came in and had a pennyworth of beer—the prisoner was sitting down, and two more men were there—there were a few people outside—they did not all say when I came outside, "There is Jack the Ripper;" they did not follow me to the station saying so; nobody was outside, all the talking was done inside—the prisoner and the other four men took me towards the station—no crowd followed, there was nobody
else but the four in the street—the prisoner struck me on my back with his hand, and with his leg too—it was dark, but I could see—the station is more than 50 yards from the public-house—I came back to the publichouse, put my head in and saw him sitting there, and went for a policeman—I came back in four or five minutes; he was still sitting there—the policeman called him out, and he was arrested—when he came out he did not say anything.
OLIVER CARTER (Policeman H 434). On 15th November, about a quarter to eleven, I was on duty in the neighbourhood of Leman Street—I heard a noise, in consequence of which I went and saw the prosecutor, who made a communication to me—I afterwards went with him to the Red Lion public-house—he went in first—I saw about 20 men in there sitting round, the prisoner among them—the prosecutor said to me, "That is the man that robbed me," pointing to the prisoner—I called the prisoner outside and told him what the prosecutor stated, and I said, "I shall take you into custody on this charge"—he said, "I merely took him by the arm, and was going to take him to the station to give him into custody for Jack the Ripper"—the prosecutor was quite sober.
Cross-examined. There were about 20 people in the public-house; no people outside—two men followed to the station, no one else—there was no noise in the public-house—the prisoner did not say when I arrested him, "It is a mistake."
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate, "The man made a mistake altogether; I cannot say nothing else."
Witnesses for the Defence.
FLORANCE MURPHY . I am a stevedore of 162, Cable Street—on 15th November between 11 and 12, I was in the Golden Lion, when the prisoner and about ten other men were there—the prosecutor came in and was joking about; and he said "I am Jack the Ripper"—the prisoner looked at him and said, "That is the way to put himself away"—the prosecutor asked for a pennyworth of beer; he drank some of it and said, "I will show you whether I am Jack the Ripper"—he went behind the table and took out some documents and started writing—the prisoner went over to look, and the prosecutor seized them and put them in his pocket, so that the prisoner should not see them—I said to the prisoner," Let him alone; he says he will put himself away; we will all do with a reward"—I held the door open and stood at the door—the prosecutor went out, and the words "Jack the Ripper" gathered a great crowd; the prisoner stood in front of the door, about two yards from it; I kept him in my sight till I followed him back into the public-house—the prisoner did not assault or rob the prosecutor, because I forced him to come in; there is no mistake about that—we were all drinking together; he is innocent—they might as well have taken me, as the prisoner—I gave evidence at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I was in the public-house half an hour before the prosecutor came in—he came in and volunteered the statement he was Jack the Ripper—I had never seen him before—I don't know if he lives about there—I know the prisoner—we said we should like to get hold of Jack the Ripper—the prisoner seriously thought the prosecutor was Jack the Ripper; he said he should give him in charge—he never touched him—he did not start taking him to the station—I saw the prosecutor leave the public-house—I held the door in my hand open, I did not go
outside—there were a great many people outside—I could see what happened outside.
Re-examined. I did not believe the prosecutor was Jack the Ripper.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for an assault on the prosecutor, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
51. CORNELIUS WILDER (44) , Taking Mary Ann Heath, aged fourteen years and eight months, out of the possession and against the will of Frederick William Ames, her father, and Elizabeth Ames, her mother, with intent to carnally know her.
MR. KEITH FRITH Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted; MR. K. FRITH Defended.
RICHARD HOWSE . I live at 12, Ann Street, Mile End Road, and am a carman—on 24th October, between twenty minutes to half-past twelve at night, I was in Cable Street, St. George's, just by Watney Street, when a gang of six or seven men took me round the arms and searched my pockets—I had a little over 7s. in my pockets; I do not know exactly how much—they took it away—they did not strike me—I gave a description to the police afterwards—I was sober, I had just left work—I last knew I had the money safe in Old Gravel Lane an hour before I was attacked—I saw the prisoner again the next night at the Police-station—I identified him there from about five others—it happened pretty nearly opposite a lamp—it was about twenty minutes past twelve, I am sure, because I had just left the stable—I leave work at all times—the other men, from among whom I identified the prisoner, did not pass me before I went to pick him out—there was a black man, a short man, and two others—I told one of the prisoner's witnesses, White, I think his name is, that probably the prisoner might not be the man, after hearing what they said—I was not in doubt before, but after they talked to me about different things I thought he might not be the man—I was in doubt as to whether I had made a mistake or not—I will not swear I have not made a mistake now; I will say I may have made a mistake now—he is the man I swore to, but as I told the others, I had a doubt of him after what I heard them say.
Mr. Piggott said he had no other evidence of identity, and the Jury thereupon returned a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON for the prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY ,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended. JULIUS SEARLE . I lodge at 46, Chissendale Road, Old Ford, and am a traveller—the prisoner was landlord of the house—on 12th September I came home between eleven and twelve—I knocked at the door more than once—the prisoner opened it—I remarked that he might have let me in a little sooner—he said, "You b——r, you had b——y well be off to bed, or outside you go, or otherwise I will throw you out"—he let me in, and then he put me outside and pushed me down the three or four steps leading from the door to the street—I did not fall—he followed me up the street about fifteen yards—I could not get away from him; I tried to—I walked away from the house—he butted me with his head, and gave me a black eye, about fifteen yards from the house—I put up my hand to protect myself, and then he kicked me on the side of my leg between the ankle and knee, on the tibia—I heard it crack, and said, "You blackguard! you have broken my leg"—he gave me another kick, and broke the large bone of my leg in the front—I was then in the middle of the street; I hopped across to the other side and laid hold of the railings—a policeman came up and I told him where I lived—I was taken to the door—they asked the prisoner if I lived there, and took me inside and laid me in the. passage—the prisoner said to the constable something to the effect that there was nothing the matter with me, and that it was a pity it was not my b——y neck—the constable remained with me while two other constables fetched an ambulance and took me to the hospital, where I remained a little over ten weeks, I think.
Cross-examined. I don't know that he denied having broken my leg by a kick, and said I did it in a fall—I did not fall to the ground the whole time, I am certain; it would have been impossible for me to get up—I saw a doctor one and a half to two hours after my leg was broken; it was about one o'clock—my wife lives in this house—she was in bed there on that night, I believe—I had been eighteen months there, I think, regularly, except when I was away on business—this happened on Tuesday; I had last been to the house before that on Saturday—after I knocked at the door I got just inside the door—I had not got as far as my wife's room; I had no opportunity of going upstairs—he might have pushed me in the passage—he took me by the shoulders and pushed me down the steps; it was done momentarily—I did not strike him at all, either in the passage or outside; I only put my hand up to his face after he butted me and gave me a black eye and other contusions—as far as I know he had no cause to push me out of the house; I did not strike him—I am a peaceable man as far as I am aware—I don't know Mrs. Miller—I don't know who lives in the house; Mrs. Miller may live there—I was not drunk, I had had a glass or two of drink; I was not the worse for drink that I am aware of—I deny I was in a very drunken state—I did not come to the house before eleven o'clock—this was the first time I went in the house—I had been more than twenty miles travelling, I had been nearly down to Wood Green, and I was potter
ing about various streets in the neighbourhood at eleven o'clock before this happened—at ten I went into a public-house in the neighbourhood of Old Ford, and had a glass of ale, and the landlord said, "You made a disturbance on the previous Friday, I had better not serve you"—my wife came and made a disturbance in that public-house; I was there; I made no disturbance—the landlord might have ejected me on that occasion; he persuaded me to go out, as he did not want a disturbance; it was not my fault—he might have said, "Do go out," tapping me on the shoulder—it is not true that I went upstairs and knocked at my wife's door, and that she refused to allow me to go in, and said she was afraid of me—there is a kitchen at the back—I deny that Mr. Simes in the kitchen on the ground floor, hearing me make a noise, asked me to go to my own room, or leave the house, or that I came down and opened the street door, and said to Mr. Simes, "Come out, and see what I will give you;" or that Mr. Simes went out into the middle of the road, and I then hit him in the face—there was nothing of the kind—it was not a fight between me and the prisoner in the road, in which I fell down and broke my leg—there were two separate breakings from two separate kicks—I did not kick him in the groin—I do not know Mrs. Buskin, of 44, Chissendale Road; I saw no one present on this occasion—there may have been someone in the road when he kicked me; there were a lot of people about after this happened—I have no witness but myself—I was probably in a very excited state after being knocked about—I am not aware of having on several occasions kept many of the lodgers awake through noises between me and my wife—very likely there has been disturbance in the house, I quarrelling with my wife—it is not my fault—at nine o'clock I was at Stratford.
Re-examined. On the previous Friday I went into the public-house, and my wife came in separately from me, abused me, and kept up a disturbance, and took the pot from my hand and threw the contents in my face; then the landlord asked me to go, and I went—I deny I was the worse for liquor on the night my leg was broken—I saw no one in the passage but the prisoner when the door was opened—I deny that I went up to my wife's room.
By MR. HUTTON. I and my wife have been turned out of other lodgings—the prisoner had on a large thick pair of boots that have been cut down, he wears them in his work in the ordinary way; they have thick soles—I believe he works at the docks—I have not said my wife was to blame on all these occasions—I have never been summoned for not maintaining her—I believe she took out a summons against me at the Policecourt for a common assault—I was bound over to keep the peace—that is the only time I have been before a Magistrate—I would not say it was the only time she has taken out a summons against me.
WILLIAM MURPHY (Policeman K 419). On this night I was in Chissendale Street, and I saw the prosecutor standing with his back against the railings on the same side of the way as his own house—he complained that his leg was broken—I took him indoors to No. 49—I saw the prisoner there—I told him the prosecutor said his leg was broken, and asked him how he accounted for it—he said, "I am very sorry it is not his b—y neck," and he said if he did not go up into his own rooms he would put him out into the street again—I took the prosecutor to the hospital, with assistance—he and the prisoner appeared sober to me.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor could not walk; I got on one side and a gentleman assisted on the other—he was not in an excited state—the prisoner did not seem excited—the prosecutor was taken to the hospital on a police-stretcher, and then I went back and took the prisoner into custody—I believe he had taken his boots off and laid down on the bed in the meantime—he put his boots on—it was about four a. m.
ERNEST JARVIS . I was house-surgeon of the London Hospital, and attended the prosecutor there—I found the tibia and fibula of the right leg fractured; those are the large and small bones between the ankle and the knee—they were broken by one injury—I should be rather against the injury being caused by a kick—I do not say it could not have been, but I cannot think it was—it was one a. m. when I saw him—he had had something to drink; he was sober.
Cross-examined. This accident may have had something to do with sobering him—in my opinion it was far more likely that the accident was caused by a fall than a kick, because if a kick produced a fracture I should expect to find laceration of the tissue; there was none—both fractures were on the same level.
Witnesses for the Defence. MARY MILLER. I lodge in the prisoner's house—on this night the prisoner came to the house about twelve o'clock; he had not been there since the Saturday, I let him in—he went upstairs to his wife's bedroom and knocked at the door, but his wife would not let him in—he began to abuse her and create a disturbance—the prisoner halloaed out from his kitchen, and told him to go in his own room and be quiet or else to go out; he would not be disturbed, and would not have anyone else disturbed—the prosecutor then opened the door and went out and down the steps, and said, "Come out here, you swine, and see what I will do with you"—the prisoner then went out, saying he was going for a constable—I was looking out of window the whole of the time, and I saw and heard everything—when he got out, the prosecutor hit the prisoner on the face, and then put his foot up and kicked him where he ought not to have kicked him—the prisoner struck in self-defence; the prosecutor went to get out of the prisoner's way and fell down with one of his legs under him; I could not say which leg—the prosecutor kicked the prisoner; I did not see the prisoner kick the prosecutor, neither before, during, nor after the fight, I pledge my oath—I have been disturbed before; the prosecutor was a very noisy man—the prisoner had a pair of slippers on his feet.
Cross-examined. They were a very old pair of boots that had been cut down—I know the prisoner's wife, she is not a friend of mine; I am a perfect stranger—we lodge in the same house, but I know nothing of them; I have only been there about a fortnight—the prosecutor came to the house this evening about eleven o'clock, before his leg was broken—he knocked, and I thought it was someone for me and opened the door—he came twice that night; the first time he did not get admittance; the second time I let him in—the prosecutor only struck the prisoner once, that was on the face—I do not think it made any mark; I cannot say—I made no communication to the police—I did not know the prisoner was going to be charged till next morning, when his wife told me about it—I was at the Police-court when this case was before the Magistrate—I was not asked to give evidence—the prisoner was not to blame—the
solicitor knew I was at the Police-court; he did not call me—the Magistrate intimated that he was going to send the case for trial.
ELIZABETH BUSKIN . I lodge at the next house to the prisoner's—on this night, about half-past eleven, I went to my street door and saw a tussle in the road between the prisoner and prosecutor—the prosecutor fell to the ground—I saw no blow struck, but I saw a tussle with their hands, fighting I suppose you would call it—the prosecutor fell backwards on the pavement and gutter—I did not see the prisoner kick him during the fight, nor while the prosecutor was on the ground—I did not see the prosecutor kick the prisoner—I do not know the prosecutor, and have never spoken to him—I and my lodger have been disturbed by him two or three times a week.
Cross-examined. I only saw boxing, no kicks—I must have seen a kick if there had been one.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
55. JOHN EDWARDS (21), THOMAS NORMAN (23), and GEORGE HOPE (24) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Elizabeth Owen, and stealing a clock and other articles, her property. Second Count, Receiving the same.
MR. GRUBB Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH OWEN . I live at 54, Albert Road, Forest Gate, and am a widow—on 22nd October I went to bed a little after twelve, having closed the house and left it secure—my daughter and sister were in the house—about a quarter to five I heard a door shut, and went down and found the front door unbolted and the chain off, and the back door leading to the garden from the passage open—I shut it and went upstairs, and found the house dog gone, a shawl, two pairs of boots, a knife, umbrella, and clock missing—these things (produced) are mine—they were there when I went to bed, and were gone in the morning; there were also a pair of spectacles, a table-cloth, two shawls, a silver spoon, and a pockethandkerchief—I found a light in the kitchen which I had not left—the kitchen window seemed very much forced, and the catch as if it had been opened and shut again; the back door was unbolted—the night before the clock was hanging on the door, my spectacles were on the table, and the clock on the parlour mantelpiece.
ANNIE KING . I live at 62, Old Nichol Street, Shoreditch—on 23rd October I was living with Hope at a lodging-house, 1, Vine Yard—on the morning of the 23rd he came in about 6. 30—I had last seen him before that between 10.30 and 10.45—I was in bed when he came; he brought these things, a cloth, a dolman shawl (there were two shawls, one was pawned), and two pairs of boots, a knife, an umbrella, a pair of spectacles, and a silver spoon, all wrapped in a table-cloth—he put them down in the room and got into bed—next day, Wednesday, 24th, Detective Enright and two or three more detectives came between 4.30 and a quarter to five and took the things away—Hope was not at home then; he and I had had a row the night before; he hit me on my mouth, and offered to stab me with a knife; and I said we had best part—Edwards was there and took my part, and Hope took up a knife to him—I had
done nothing to anger Hope; he was with me all day on the 23rd; Edwards was there a good bit of the day in the room; he was living with another girl below in the same lodging-house—I undid the parcel in the room when I was there by myself—I did not give Edwards any of the things—on 1st November I was at the Commercial Street Policestation; I saw Hope in custody—I said, "This is the man that brought the things to my house on the 23rd," and I told them what the things were, and they telegraphed it to West Ham—I said, alluding to Hope, "He has sent the police after us; he said he would put us away"—I said so because another girl and three chaps, two of whom are the prisoners, were taken to the station, one of the men was let off—I never saw Norman till he was brought into the station—on the night the things were brought in I can swear Edwards and the young girl he was living with were in bed at 11 o'clock, when Hope went out to get the things, because they went to bed as soon as I went upstairs; I heard them lock the door. Hope. What the witness says is perfectly true.
ELIZABETH JONES . I was living in this lodging-house with Edwards—on the morning of the 23rd I was in bed with Edwards in my room at 6.30—I was asleep when a knock came at the door; I awoke, Edwards did not—Hope came in with a bundle in a white table-cloth—he passed through our room and went into another room, that is the only way you can go, there is no other door—as he passed through I said, "Halloa! Where have you been?"—he said, "Oh, out strolling," and upstairs he went—the same morning, about 10. 30 or 11, he came back to my room bringing a bundle—Edwards was there—he opened it in our presence—I saw this dolman, clock, boots, knife, and all these things—he told us he got them out hawking flowers—he had not before come back from hawking with property of this kind—he asked me to pawn this shawl—I tore off a piece of the table-cloth in which the things were wrapped, and wrapped the shawl in it, and pawned it—I brought back this pawn-ticket and put it in a vase in the room—I gave the 3s. I got to Hope. (The ticket was for a shawl pawned with Joseph Jones on 23rd October for 3s. in the name of Reed, 1, Vine Court.) Hope gave none of the property to Edwards—I was present when the detectives came. Hope. What she says is perfectly true.
JOSEPH JONES . I am a pawnbroker at 31, Church Street, Spitalfields—I produce a shawl pawned with me on 23rd October, it was wrapped in this piece of table-cloth—this is the duplicate—I do not recognise the girl—she gave the name of Ann Seed, 1, vine Court.
PATRICK ENRIGHT (Detective Sergeant). I received information on 24th October, at four a. m., and in consequence with five other officers I went to 5, Vine Court, Spitalfields—I saw Edwards there in bed on the first floor front room with King and Jones—I said to him, "We are police officers, and I am going to take you on suspicion of committing a burglary at a house at West Ham on the 22nd, or the morning of the 23rd October"—he made no reply—I said, "I am going to search the room"—I searched and found this table-cloth spread on the table; this silver spoon on the sideboard; this knife in the bed; the boots under the table, and the spectacles on the mantelshelf; this teapot by the fireplace; four forks and four spoons on the table—a man named Solomon was in the room—I held up Mrs. Owen's spectacles and said, "To whom do these belong?"—Solomon said, "They are mine, and I bought them
four months ago"—Edwards heard it—I took King, Jones, Edwards and Solomon to the station—from information received I went with Murphy at 5.30 a.m. on the 24th to 22, Old Nichol Street, Shore ditch, where Norman lives—I had sent a man previously to call him up—I said to Norman, "We are police officers, and I have received information that you have a portion of the proceeds of a burglary in your room"—he said, "No, I have not"—I went to his room, where I found these things, a shawl, an Ulster, a clock, an umbrella, and a portion of a tablecloth, they are Mrs. Owen's, lying openly about in various parts of the room—I said to Norman, "I believe these are the articles which I referred to"—he said, "I bought them yesterday of a man for 5s."—I asked him if he knew who the man was, or where he lived; he said, "No"—I took him to the station, where he was charged with the others—he made no answer to the charge.
Cross-examined by Norman. You did not tell me you gave 8s. 6d. for the things; you said 5s.—you did not tell me I could have caught the man if I looked.
GEORGE BLUNDEN (Policeman H 38). On 31st October, at 10.15 p.m., I was in Dorset Street, Spitalfields—I received information which caused me to arrest Hope—I told him he was wanted for burglary at Stratford; he said he knew nothing about it, and it was a mistake—I took him to the station.
ARTHUR DOULTON (Detective Constable). On 2nd November, about 12.5 a.m., I went to Commercial Street Police Station, where I saw Hope—King and Elizabeth Jones were waiting there too, but not in custody—King said, "This is the man that brought home the stolen property to my lodgings for which we were charged at West Ham, which was stolen from Forest Gate; he brought them home at 6.30 a.m. on the 23rd, when I was in bed, and I pawned one of the shawls"—King also said, "This man came to my room with a bundle of stolen property; I took them"—Hope said, "If you put me away I will make you suffer for it"—I took him to West Ham, where he was charged; he made no reply.
STANLEY CATT . I am a leather merchant, of 64, Albert Road, Dalston—on 16th October I went to bed from a quarter to eleven to eleven, leaving the house properly shut up, doors and windows secured—I came down next morning about 8.30, and found the lower part of the house turned upside down, the drawers and cupboards open, and I missed these four forks, four spoons and knife, which were safe in the house on the 16th—I also missed a coat, boots, and other things—the drawing-room window, which was shut the night before, was open in the morning.
Edwards, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that all the things were brought in in the morning wrapped in a table-cloth by the young man who lived
in the same house with the girl, and that he had a row with the girl and was going to stab her, and that he (Edwards) turned him out.
Witnesses for Norman. WILLIAM WALE. I am your brother-in-law—I live at 62, Old Nichol Street, Shoreditch, at the same house that you live at—I go out with parcels and a van belonging to Mr. Kitchener—on 23rd, between halfpast one and a quarter to two p.m. Hope brought these things and asked if Thomas Norman was in; you were not—your wife asked him to sit down for a little time—you came in ten minutes or quarter of an hour afterwards—Hope asked you if you wanted to buy some things—he said he got them by flower hawking—he wanted 10s. 6d. for them—they were this dolman, timepiece, part of a table-cloth, shawl, and umbrella—you gave him 8s. 6d. for them—I saw you give him three florins, two shillings, and sixpence—you put it on the table or into his hand.
Cross-examined. I did not know Hope before—my brother-in-law said he was George Hope—I don't know if Jones lived with Edwards—I thought he bought the things with the money he got by flower-hawking—I do not know if he ever brought any other property that ho had got by flower-hawking—Norman is a hawker in summer, of flowers, and in winter of walnuts and apples—if the detective said Norman told him he paid 5s. the detective is probably mistaken—I saw the money actually pass, Edwards in his defence said that the things in his room belonged to Hope, who said he used to go out hawking. Norman in his defence said that Hope brought the things to him, and said he had got them out hawking, and had given two flowerstands for them, and that he bought them for 8s. 6d. Hope in his defence said a man in Covent Garden asked him to bug the things for 16s., and that he gave him 10s. for them, and he asserted that the other two men and he were innocent.
NORMAN NOT GUILTY ,
EDWARDS GUILTY of receiving— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
HOPE GUILTY of burglary. He then pleaded
GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in March, 1887, in the name of Christopher Lincoln . (The Police stated that Hope had given information, and that it was due to him that the whole of the case was exposed.)— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
56. GEORGE CLARKEN (53) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Jane Purbreck, his wife being then alive; also to feloniously marrying Bessie Peard, his wife being then alive.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
58. CHARLES MERRIMAN (23) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of William Thorpe, and stealing two gold rings, a teaspoon, and other articles, and £5 5s. in money.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
59. MICHAEL MURPHY (25) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Alfred Wright, and stealing three Cardigan jackets, three mufflers, and two pairs of trousers.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
YOUNG PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted. JANE BREWSTER . I am the wife of William Brewster, of Oak Villa, Griffin Road, Plumstead—on Friday, 26th October, I went to bed, and locked up the house at half-past ten—my husband called me at half-past five—I came down; the windows and door at the back were open; they had been closed the night before—my two sons came down afterwards, and missed their coats and jackets, and a great number of children's clothes were gone, besides a clock and a violin—these produced are those I missed.
FREDERICK ALEXANDER (Detective L). On 27th October I went to 81, High Street, Woolwich, and arrested Young and Sawyer; they were in bed together—I told Sawyer I should arrest him for being concerned with Young in stealing some fowls and tools; that was another charge—in his jacket pocket I found this handkerchief, with the initials "H.M.H. 6" on it—I had that morning received from Mrs. Brewster a description of the property stolen—I then said they would both be charged with being concerned together in committing a burglary at Oak Villa, Plumstead, and stealing a clock, violin, and various articles, this handkerchief among them—Smith said, "I gave Young a penny for it last night"—on the way to the station Smith said, "It's no use telling you any lies about it, we did break into the house and steal the things; we sold them at the little shop opposite the Eagle, in Beresford Street"—he pointed the shop out, it was the one kept by Swinburne—he said he did not know Swinburne's name, but he pointed out the shop on the way to the station—he was charged at the station—he made no reply—I had been to Swinburne's the previous day, and said to him, "Have you bought any clothing from anyone?" mentioning an Astracan ulster, a jacket, a coat with Astracan cuffs and collar, and such clothes as were worn by the Arsenal boys; he said, No, he had not bought any, but he would keep a sharp look-out—about ten o'clock on the Saturday, in consequence of the robbery at Mr. Brewster's, I called on him again before arresting the prisoners—I then told him that another robbery had taken place, and that a number of coats worn by the Arsenal boys, greasy and dirty, had been stolen, and I described an old eight-day clock with the name of the maker on it in Gracechurch Street, a very old violin with one string broken, and I mentioned various other articles—I asked if he had bought them—he said, "No"—I told him that Sawyer and Young were suspected, and to refresh his memory who Young was, I told him he was a man whom he had once bought some shirts of—he said he had not seen him—I asked him if either of those two had been to his shop that morning and sold him any coats or any property—he said, "No"—I then arrested the other prisoners, and took them to the station, and then returned to Swinburne's shop—I told him I should have to take him into custody for feloniously receiving the goods I had asked him about, knowing them to have been stolen—he said he had not bought any—I then searched the back room of his shop with Police-constable Rutherford, and found the property there which has been identified by Mrs. Brewster—the greater part of Mrs. Hammond's property was also found there,
which was identified; also some property belonging to Mr. Arnold and Mrs. Jackson and another person who was too ill to attend at the Police-court—Swinburne kept denying it till just as we were going into the Police-court, when in consequence of Young saying that he had sold the goods that morning, he said, "Yes, I did buy them; I am sorry I denied it at first; when I first started business in this shop I tried to get an honest living, but I found I could not get a living that way, and I took anything that was offered me."
Swinburn. I deny that; I never said so. Witness. I am sure he did—Rutherford was with me at the time.
ESTHER HUGGETT . I live at 61, Beresford Street, Woolwich—on 27th October Swinburne came to our house and left this clock and violin—he said, "Would you mind letting me leave these here, as you have more room than me?"—I said, "With pleasure"—he also left an overcoat and two Ulsters—these (produced) are them.
Swinburne put in a written defence, alleging that he purchased the various articles from Young, who told him he was selling them for a friend, and that he had no notion they had been stolen.
GUILTY. Previous convictions were proved against Young and Sawyer. YOUNG**— Five years' Penal Servitude.
SAWYER— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
SWINBURNE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAMS PLEADED GUILTY .
WILLIAM GARLICK . I am manager to Edward Handley, a draper, of High Street, Deptford—on November 10th, at six p.m., I saw a piece of linen safe, three feet inside the doorway, and at 8.45 an officer showed me a ticket which had been on it—I then missed it.
ROBERT HIBBAGE . On 10th November, about 8.30, I was on duty on Deptford Bridge, and saw the prisoners running from Church Street towards Mill Lane—I followed them, stopped them, and asked what they had got—Williams dropped a bundle and said, "Don't take me; Mary Ann Leccan asked me to carry it;. she took it from a shop in the High Street"—the prisoner Henry goes by that name—she heard that, and ran away without saying anything—I took Williams.
THOMAS FRANCIS (Police Sergeant R). I was on duty with Hibbage, and saw the prisoners pass into Church Street and go towards Mill Lane—I knew Henry, and seeing they had got something, I ran in front of them, and found them with this roll of stuff (produced) behind a fence—I then
missed Henry; she must have stepped into one of the houses—a large crowd of roughs assembled, but I secured Williams—I knew Henry, and at one a.m. I knocked for half an hour at a house where I heard she was, but got no answer; so I unfastened the front window, and was about to get in, when somebody opened a window and said, "Halloa, what's up?" I got in, went upstairs, and found Henry lying on the floor in a room where there was a man and his wife and children—on the way to the station I told her the charge—she said, "You have made a mistake, I was not there"—I have known her for years—she goes by the name of Leccan.
Henry's Defence. On the Saturday night Mr. Francis went to Annie Williams and said, "Is this the girl who was with you? you speak up and I will do my best to get you off": she knows I was not with her.
T. FRANCIS (Re-examined). There is not a word of truth in that.
The prisoner Henry called
ANNIE WILLIAMS . I have pleaded guilty to this charge—on 10th November I was with a young woman who I only know as Mary Ann—it was not Henry, she is an entire stranger to me—I never saw her before she was brought to the station on Sunday evening, when they put me into another cell—she said, "Are you the girl that told the police that I was with you?"—I said, "I told the police it was Mary Ann; but I did not say it was you or that it was Leccan"—I never heard the name before—Henry was not with me when the stuff was stolen.
Cross-examined. I told the Magistrate the same.
HENRY— NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAMS— Three Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. POLLARD and MEAD Prosecuted.
SARAH BRETT . I have been living with Thomas Onley, at 66, Hornby Road, Peckham—I have a son, a sailor, who arrived home on 3rd October, bringing the prisoner with him as a messmate—I allowed the prisoner to remain in the house, having board and lodging till 15th October, without payment; I treated him as my own child—on 15th October Onley and the prisoner went out together, and came home about three in the after-noon—I provided tea for them—Onley went out again and came home about half-past five, and then he and my landlord went out to have a glass—about half-past eight Onley and the prisoner came home together very drunk—Onley is 62 years of age—there were knives and forks on the table, including a carving knife—Onley said, "You b——old thing, I will let you know you are no wife of mine, and have no business here"—the prisoner said, "I mean to look after Mr. Onley, b——you and your son too"—I said, "It is quite sufficient for Mr. Onley to commence upon me without your interfering"—the prisoner gave me a smack on the left side of my face—I returned it, of course, and knocked him down in a chair, and said, "You scoundrel, you ungrateful villain! get out of the house; you don't lodge here to-night"—Onley said, "I will give you 10s.
to do a Whitechapel murder upon you"—then he went upstairs, leaving the prisoner with me—the prisoner then deliberately knocked over the lighted lamp and knocked me over likewise, and I felt his grasp on my throat, and I remember no more, only the knife across my throat—I ultimately found myself in the workhouse infirmary, where I remained till the 31st—I am not well yet; my throat is gathering now tremendously; I have had to go to the doctor—this is the knife (produced)—it was on the table.
MARY ANN FAYERS . I live at 60, Hornby Road—on the night of 15th October I was passing Mrs. Brett's house—her door was open, and I saw her standing in the kitchen and the prisoner standing in front of her—all of a sudden I saw the lamp knocked over and smashed—I could not see how it was done—the prisoner and Mrs. Brett were the only persons in the room—I spoke to some one who was passing by—shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner come out of the house—he said to me, "I don't want no row with them"—I said, "Why don't you go indoors and go to bed and take no notice of them—he said, "No, I am going on board my ship to sleep to-night"—I told him he was too drunk to walk up the ship's side—he was drunk—he began to unbutton his coat, and said, "Hold my coat, and if he hits her again I will knock his b——jaw in"—and with that he went in doors—and about five minutes after I saw Mrs. Brett's little boy, about seven—he came and halloaed through the keyhole of my door and called me—I came out and found Mrs. Brett lying in the gutter, bleeding from her neck—I assisted her, and then went home.
WILLIAM BRETT . I am a sailor—on 15th October I was visiting in the neighbourhood where my mother lives, and was fetched home about half-past nine—I found her in the gutter with her throat cut—I tied my handkerchief round her neck—a doctor was sent for, and she was sent to the infirmary—I went into the house and saw this carving-knife lying alongside of Onley, who was on the bed in the front room, drunk—there was blood on it—Hall was in the back room, drunk—on 23rd October I went to one of the cells at the Police-court, and saw Onley and Hall in the same cell in custody—I asked Onley if he knew anything about it—he said no, he was in bed and asleep at the time—I asked Hall what made him do it—he said he had no animosity whatever against mother—I asked him where he put the knife—he said he put it somewhere in the front room, but where he did not know—I know the prisoner's hand-writing—this letter is his.
MRS. BRETT (Re-examined). I received this letter by post. (This letter expressed his sorrow for what he had done, and stated that he did not know what he was doing at the time.) JAMES TAYLOR (Police Inspector P). About ten on the night of 15th October I went with two other officers to Hornby Road—opposite 66 I saw Mrs. Brett with her throat cut—there was a wound about four inches long—a number of persons were there—a surgeon was sent for; Mr. Munyard came—she made a statement to me as to who had done it—I went into the house, and found the prisoner in a back bed-room, partly dressed, helplessly drunk, lying on the bed—I found this knife in the front room; the prisoner said nothing about it—I examined it and found fresh stains of blood on it—he was detained at the station and Onley also—when the charge was read over, the prisoner said, looking at Onley, "You done it, and I will be a witness against you"—Onley
said, "I was in bed and asleep, and I know nothing about it"—Onley was discharged by the Magistrate, and the prisoner made an admission.
THOMAS MUNYARD . I am a physician, and practise in Southampton Street, Camberwell—on this night, about half-past ten, I was sent for to see the prosecutrix—I found her bleeding from a wound in the neck, about six inches long; none of the large vessels were severed; it was a clear cut wound such as might be caused with a knife; it was not dangerous in itself—I stitched it up and sent her to the Infirmary.
Prisoner's Defence. I know very little about it; I was drunk at the time. I had no reason for doing it whatever.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
GUILTY . **
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1877.— Twelve Tears' Penal Servitude.
MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY Defended. Mr. Poland, after opening the case, with the sanction of the Court, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY; and also on another indictment for a misdemeanour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POLAND and MR. CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
72. WILLIAM LAING (32), and JAMES RYAN (25) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Harriett Maria Barclay, and stealing two clocks and other articles, her property; and SAMUEL KNIGHT MORECROFT feloniously receiving the same.
LAING and RYAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. POLAND and MR. CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
HARRIETT MARIA BARCLAY . I live at 9, Franton Road, Bermondsey—on 9th February I saw my house safe between 10.30 and 11 p.m.; my servant went to bed at the same time—I found in the morning that my house had been entered, and missed a quantity of plate, two clocks, ring, a blue velvet hand-bag, purse, pictures, and other articles, value about £50—I know Ryan by sight—he formerly visited a female servant of mine, who was convicted of dishonesty in February, 1885.
WILLIAM FREDERICK TINDAL . I go by the name of Charles Scott—I am under sentence of twelve months in Wandsworth Prison, for stealing watches from a shop—I know Laing and Ryan—we were in the habit of freqenting the King's Arms, Bath Street, kept by the prisoner Morecroft, and I have played with Morecroft in the bagatelle-room—I have heard Laing called "Billy Laing," and have heard him call Ryan "James"—we were all at the King's Arms on the night of February 9th, and about two a.m. we all went to Bermondsey and broke into Miss Barclay's house, and carried off a quantity of property; there were three or four pictures and two clocks, a blue velvet hand-bag, and a lady's purse—we left the things in a garden, and we all three then went to a coffee stall kept by Cooper, who spoke to us—we then took the things to Tooley Street, where we got a cab to Laing's house at Camberwell, but we could not get in, and we walked towards the railway and got a cab and went to Ryan's house, where we left the things, and next day we all went to Morecroft's—I saw Morecroft. that day, but only when I called for drink—two days after the burglary I took some things to Morecroft's; a woman carried a clock there between one and two o'clock, from Ryan's house, and two pictures, and a cloth was thrown over the pictures, which were done up in paper—I do not know her name—(Mrs. Jennings was here brought into Court)—that is the woman—Laing went with me and her—we saw no one at Ryan's house before we left; it is 200 or 300 yards from there to the King's Arms—Morecroft was there, and the things were handed to him in the private bar, where there was no one else—he asked the price of them, Laing said 15s.—Morecroft took them into a back room, and came back and said he thought 10s. was sufficient, and Laing said to me, "Freddy, I think we had better take 10s. and have done with it" and Morecroft paid the 10s., and we had a drink, and I went away to dinner, leaving Laing there; and when I went back I found him there, and while we were both there Ryan came in, and we divided the money, 3s. 4d. apiece—the purse was first given to my wife, and Laing went across and brought it back, and handed it to Mrs. Morecroft as a valentine, it being a few days before Valentine's Day; Laing also handed her a blue plush bag between three and four the same afternoon as a present, and she accepted it—Morecroft was not there then—that is all the property that was taken to Morecroft's.
Cross-examined. After we left Ryan's we went immediately to the Corner Pin, but we waited five minutes while the things were done up—we got to Morecroft's about two o'clock, not between five and six—the blue plush bag was given in the afternoon, between three and four—the purse was given about dinner-time in Mrs. Morecroft's presence, and mine, and Laing's; that was about twenty minutes after the pictures, and Morecroft had left the bar—Mrs. Jennings was not there—the first thing Morecroft said was, "How much?"—he did not say that he did not want the pictures—he had not to be pressed three or four times before he would take them—something passed about the pictures and clock which I did not hear. I considered that an arrangement had been made before; any person looking round the partition could see what was going on—on March 13th I first communicated with the police, and I gave them more information on September 13th and 19th—I was convicted on the 2nd of this July—I wrote to the Treasury, and the police came
to see me in the House of Detention—I have not given information to the police above a dozen times; once was before I was convicted, that was about a man who was convicted at this Court, and got ten years' penal servitude—I had been convicted of assault before that—between that time and Chandler's conviction I had given information to the police—I did not steal the watches, but I conveyed them—I pleaded guilty to it, and I am guilty—another man was mixed up with it; I cannot remember his name, I only knew him two nights; I cleared him out—he was with me—he did not see me take the watches; he was in a public-house 100 yards off—I did not show them to him; he did not know I had them till I was captured—I did not give information about Chandler in the hope of getting off without punishment, I did it of my own free will—the reason I am giving information now is that a cruet-stand was supposed to be taken to a pawnbroker's shop by Ryan, but it has come out that he sold it to Chandler; I have got into trouble through that man; it is out of revenge against him in one way—there is a public bagatelle-room in this public-house; most of these burglaries were not concocted there—I was in the habit of going to the bagatelle-room—I saw Jennings once at the Police-court; Ryan asked me to go there for a walk—I saw Mrs. Jennings on this day for the first time—I did not speak to her, and did not know she was the wife of Jennings, who I had seen at the Police-court—Ryan did not tell me that the man at the Court was Jennings—I never mentioned Mrs. Jennings name to the police; I mentioned Mrs. Sutton; Mrs. Ryan called her Mrs. Sutton on the day I saw her coming from the Police-court, when Jennings was convicted; that was before I was taken to Morecroft's—I did not mention her name to the police till September 19th.
Re-examined. I was twenty-two years old last Wednesday fortnight—I was charged with Chandler, and gave evidence; he was convicted and sentenced to ten years' penal servitude—I was charged in connection with another man, and I also gave information to the police with regard to him—I stated that I did not think he would have gone if it had not been for me, and he was acquitted.
MARTHA JENNINGS . I am the wife of Stephen Jennings, of 5, Lisson Buildings, Lisson Grove—I have known Ryan five or six years, he was a fellow-servant of my husband's—I visited his house twice and knew his wife—on 11th February I went there and saw some things—I thought they were Mrs. Ryan's property; the clock was exposed, but the other things were tied up in paper—Laing was tying up some goods, and said that he could not carry the things down, and I volunteered to do it—I saw Scott standing against a wall downstairs—I went to Morecroft's about five p.m.—some pictures and a square clock with a good deal of glass about it were taken, partly wrapped up—to the best of my knowledge Morecroft was behind the bar, but I should not like to swear to him—the pictures were placed on the bar and undone—Laing wanted 15s. from Morecroft for them, and some money passed, I cannot say what—some of the things were taken to the back, and one picture was brought forward again—he steadfastly refused them three times; he said he did not want them, they were not oil-paintings—some money passed for them to Laing, I cannot say how much—a lady, Mrs. Morecroft, I believe, just put her head in and out again, and Morecroft's niece came—I know that because she called him "Uncle"—the pictures
and clock were left there—they then had a cigar each, and Mrs. Ryan walked with me to a 'bus to go to Marylebone—I left Laing and Scott there—I received nothing for carrying the things—I did not know where they came from—I was examined at the Police-court on October 31.
Cross-examined. The police came to me at the end of September as Mrs. Jennings; I never heard myself called Sutton—I first spoke to Scott on this occasion—Ryan did not know me as Mrs. Sutton—I gave the pictures and clock to Scott at the door of the public-house.
HENRY JUPE (Police Sergeant L). In consequence of a written state ment from Scott I went to Morecroft's house on November 9, about 4 p.m., with a search warrant, which I read to him—he said, "I have not any stolen property here; who says I have?—I said, "A man named Scott, alias Tindal, has made a statement that you purchased a clock and pictures from Laing and Ryan"—he said, "I don't know the men"—I said, in his wife's presence, "A lady's light blue bag and silver-mounted purse are mentioned"—he said, "The wife may know about them"—she said, "I gave the bag to my niece in Glasgow, the purse I know nothing about"—I took Morecroft in custody.
Cross-examined. It is a beerhouse; people drink in front of the bar—Morecroft has been out on bail—I first went to Mrs. Jennings on Sep tember 23rd.
MORECROFT received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
LAING and RYAN then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at the Surrey Sessions on March 4th, 1888, when they were sentenced to Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.—LAING Twelve Months' Hard Labour. RYAN Nine Months' Hard Labour, to run concurrently with their former sentences.
73. MARY ANN WELSH (18) , Stealing 30 postage stamps value 2 1/2 d., and 35 postage stamps value 1d. each, the property of Elizabeth Coles. Second count, alleging them to be the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.
MESSRS. GILL and RICHARDS Prosecuted.
HORACE JOHN HUNTER . I am one of the counter clerks at the Eastern District Post Office, Commercial Road—on 5th October, about 2.30 p.m., the prisoner came in for half-a-sovereign's worth of 2 1/2 d. stamps—she laid half-a-sovereign on the counter—I was serving somebody else—I looked round for the money, and it was not there—before I gave her the stamps I asked her for the money—she said, "I saw you pick the money up"—I said I had not touched the money—I searched the drawer, and found I had no gold at all—the lady I had been previously serving was at the office door—the prisoner said, "Perhaps the lady that you have just served has picked it up; I will go out and see"—she went out and did not come back—I have not the slightest doubt as to the prisoner's identity.
FLORENCE HIME . I am assistant to the Post Office Receiver, at 540, Commercial Road—about half-past three p.m. on 25th October the prisoner came in for 5s. worth of 2 1/2 d. stamps, and 5s. of 1d. ones; she placed half asovereign on the counter—when I was about to give her the stamps she said, "I am not sure if it is not all 2 1/2 d. stamps I want," and she said she would go and ask her sister—she left the half-sovereign on the counter, and had half left the office when I called her back and asked her to take her money with her—she replied, "It is quite safe with you"—I again
asked her to take it, and she did, and left the office—she came back in a minute, and said, "It is 6s. of 2 1/2 d., and the rest in penny"—I said to her, "Will you have 6s. 3d. of 2 1/2 d. and 3s. 9d. of 1d."—she said that would do—I put the stamps on the counter, and asked her for the money—she said, "You have taken the money, and put it into the drawer"—I said I had not, and I asked another assistant if she would check the contents of the stamp drawer—she did so in my presence—I asked the prisoner to wait while it was done; she said she would—when the drawer was checked I found the 10s. was not there—we were 10s. short, assuming that the prisoner's stamps had been paid for—while the prisoner was waiting she said she would go and speak to her sister; she went out, taking the stamps with her; she did not return—I sent someone after her; they could not find her.
GEORGE WHITEALL . I am a baker, of 99, Albany Road, where I have also a post-letter office—at twenty minutes to one on 20th October the prisoner came in, and in consequence of what took place I followed her out—she and a young woman who was with her walked up the road as hard as they could walk—I followed them to the Kent Road, where the prisoner got on a tram—when she got up the steps she saw me behind her, and seemed rather amazed—I said, "Young lady, you have been trying to get these stamps on the cross"—she said, "Oh no, I haven't"—I said, "We have heard about you before; you answer the description"—I had had a circular on the 15th—we had not gone ten yards on the tram when she said, "This will be my nearest way home, I shall get down here"—I said, "Where you get down I shall get down"—I got off the tram and followed her, and gave her into custody on a charge of trying to get stamps without paying.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You never had the stamps—we never saw your half-sovereign at all—my missus did not pick it up—I did not call you back; it did not occur to me that you were the girl that was wanted, till you got outside the door—you said you would come back and apologise if you found you were wrong; that was before you got on the tram.
ROBERT UNDERWOOD (Policeman M 231). On 20th October about half-past one I was on duty in the Old Kent Road, and the prisoner was given into my custody by Whiteall, on a charge of attempting to obtain 10s. worth of stamps by a trick—she said, "I did not have the stamps, and I will go home to see if I have made a mistake"—I asked where she lived—she said Verney Road; she did not know the number—she said she thought the other woman who was in the shop had the half-sovereign—she also said she came from her house to the post-office to get the stamps to send to her grandmother—the female searcher found on her a purse, two half-sovereigns and 2d. bronze.
Prisoner's Defence. I know no more of these persons who press the charge against me than you do. I went into the shop for stamps, and laid the money down for them, but I don't know who took it after I laid it down. I don't know what became of it.
There were other indictments for similar offences against the prisoner, and it was stated that she had been doing this on a very considerable scale.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
74. CHARLES BEST (40) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of cheese, and also to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of bread and cheese.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted. JANE BRADLEY . I am the wife of Thomas Bradley, a joiner—we live at 5, William Street, Kennington Road—between seven and eight p.m. on 18th September I was going through Brook Street, Kennington, alone, and when in the middle of Church Yard Road, at the corner of Longville Road, I was surrounded by three men—I had my umbrella across my bosom, and this bag on my arm—they said, "Down with the b——y c—," and my bag was broken open, my purse, glasses, and handker-chief taken away, and my bag left on my arm—there were 7s. and eight tickets in my purse; all were taken—the police subsequently showed me these two tickets, which I identify as having been in the purse—one of them relates to earrings—I did not know either of the men before—I identify the prisoner—the police came to me on the next Saturday evening and snowed me my property—on 27th September I went into a room at the Police-station, where there were a number of men, and picked the prisoner out at once—he had torn my bag open—of the other two one held me and the other put his foot so that I could not move—when I picked out the prisoner I said, "This is the villain that has robbed me"—when he was charged he said I was drunk—I was not drunk, and had not been drinking; I was out shopping.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner.—I was not in the Fountain drinking with you and several others—I had had no drink that day—I had been to the Rockingham to see my husband, who was working there—I did not say I had a glass of ale there—I did not see you there—I did not drop these tickets in the Fountain, nor did you pick up these two there.
JOHN ROBINSON (Policeman G 70). On Wednesday, 19th September, I arrested the prisoner on another charge—I searched him at King's Cross Station, at 4.30 p.m., and found in his vest pocket these two pawn-tickets—I called his attention to this ticket for the earrings—(These were pawned with Folkard, of Southward, on 18th September, by Mrs. Bradley, of 5, William Street, for 5s.)—I said, "How do you come to have this ticket for the earrings?"—he said, "They are my wife's earrings; she pledged them, and I am taking care of the ticket"—I made inquiries, and communicated with the pawnbroker and Mrs. Bradley—on 27th, about one o'clock, Mrs. Bradley was brought into the cell passage at the back of the Police-court, and identified the prisoner at once from seven or eight others—on 26th October I arrested him on this charge—I said, "I shall take you into custody; you will be charged with stealing from Mrs. Bradley a purse containing 7s. in silver, and a number of pawn-tickets and other articles, on 18th September, at Churchyard Road"—he said, "I know the woman; I saw her in the afternoon of that day in the Mortar public-house, London Road; I again saw her in the evening at the Fountain public-house, St. George's Road"—at the Police-station, before he was charged, he said, "In the Fountain I picked up these pawn-tickets and a pair of spectacles; a part of the spectacles was broken; I threw part of them away when I was in Pentonville"—after he was charged he said, "I know this woman; she
was drunk, and I saw her at the corner of Churchyard Road the same night, as I have a brother lives there."
The Prisoner called the following Witnesses in his Defence.
MARY ANN FULLER . I live at Red Cross Street, Borough, a common lodging-house, and a man unfortunate—Mrs. Bradley was in the Fountain; I believe it was about nine weeks ago, and on a Tuesday, I could not fix the time, it was late—she was with a young woman she said was her daughter; she gave her a quartern of rum—I saw you pick up two pawntickets, and look at them—she had some words with the woman she was with, she hit her with her bag, and the money and pawn-tickets fell out, and you picked up the tickets—she was drunk.
Cross-examined. I have only seen the prisoner when I have gone into the Fountain—I have never spoken to him—I did not say before the Magistrate, "I have known the prisoner six months"—I have only known him by seeing him sitting in the Fountain—Mrs. Bradley was drinking in there with Mrs. Kemp and another woman; she is always using the Fountain; she gave Mrs. Kemp a quartern of brandy—she was not drinking with the prisoner—I did not see her pay for drink for him—I only saw her with Mrs. Kemp and her daughter—she was very drunk; she said she was a box maker—she was throwing the things out of her bag about the bar—the prisoner saw her throw them out, and after she went outside he picked them up and put them in his pocket—he did not offer to return them to her—I gave the address 43, Boxall, Kent, before the Magistrate; I am known there as Mrs. Manley, because I was living with a man there; they knew my name Fuller there as well—I owed a fort night's rent there and they would not let me in.
Re-examined. I think I was sober, I cannot remember.
The prisoner in his defence said the things fell out of Mrs. Bradley's bag, and that he picked them out, and that he intended to take the tickets to the pawn broker.
JANE BRADLEY (Re-examined). The police did not come to me till the Saturday after the Tuesday; I did not go to them, I was not able to go out—I did not tell anybody about the robbery—I went to the pawnbroker's and got affidavits on the tickets—I am a book-folder, and work at Boy Court—I' did not go to the Fountain on the Tuesday, I went to the Rockingham, where my husband, who is a French polisher, was working—I did not tell my husband; I was too frightened.
GUILTY of Larceny from the person.
He then PLEADED GUILTY**†to a conviction of felony in April, 1885.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMBER 10TH, 1888.
ERRATA.Page 31, line 15.— For "Judgment respited" read "Eighteen months' hard labour."