CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 24TH, 1889.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, June 24th, 1889, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JAMES WHITEHEAD , ESQ., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir LEWIS WILLIAM CAVE , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., Sir ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , Bart., M. P., Alderman of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the City; PHINEAS COWAN , Esq., HORATIO DAVIES , Esq., EDWARD HART , Esq., and JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Sergeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WHITEHEAD, MAYOR. NINTH 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, June 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MEAD Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
THOMAS JAMES BRINSMEAD . I am a member of the firm of John Brinsmead and Sons, Pianoforte Manufacturers and Timber Merchants—in January this year we had supplied oak to the firm of Henry Pound, Son, and Hutchins, Limited, to the amount of £273 2s. 5d.—it was sold through a Mr. King—between 21st and 28th January we were asked to supply further timber, and I declined doing so unless I received security—before the 28th I saw the defendant, and discussed with him the question of security—he proposed that the Government securities, or the payment for the Government contracts which they held, should be transferred to us, both the accounts that had accrued and those that were accruing—we undertook to supply timber, as the goods were sent in, to those amounts, presuming the Government were to accept the transfer of the debts—I then agreed to supply timber to an equivalent amount, as the goods were delivered to the Government by them so that we were clearly secured—this document, marked A, was given to me by the defendant—this is a statement on the one side of the contracts then current, and of the goods, and on the other side that which had been delivered, the amount being £450—against that I delivered goods to an equivalent amount, or very nearly—on 28th January I wrote this letter to the company: "Gentlemen, in consideration of your assigning to us any contracts due to you from the Government we undertake to supply timber to an equivalent amount, drawing upon you at six months for such purchases"—on the
same day I wrote this letter to the company—I then entered into this indenture of the 28th, signed by Henry Pound and J. McGregor, described as directors, and also by the secretary, and sealed by the company. (This was an assignment by Pound and Co. to Brinsmead and Co., of all debts due and accruing from the Secretary of State for War, specified in annexed schedule, amounting to £5,622 15s. 7d.)—I received letters from time to time, stating that goods had been delivered by the company—relying upon those statements, I supplied timber from time to time—I have made out a statement of account—the total amount of goods supplied amounts to £4,016 15s. 2d., subject to a deduction of £253 7s. 3d. for oak supplied before the contract, leaving a balance of £3,763 7s. 11d., between 31st January and 16th March—on the 2nd January I gave notice to the War Office of the right to receive due monies, which had been assigned to us under the contract, and I received an acknowledgment from the War Office—I received this letter, dated 5th February, from the defendant, giving particulars of two deliveries under the contract, amounting to £348 7s. 6d. and £260—after 28th January we supplied timber amounting to £952 15s. 11d.; bills were drawn with reference to those transactions to that amount—the security given to us at that date was £992, so we had a margin—on the 5th and 11th we supplied goods to the value of £748 15s. 7d.—we received this letter of 11th February, stating that since the last advice there had been a delivery of packing cases, amounting to £239 11s. 4d.—I had supplied goods up to that date within the margin—on the 15th I received this letter, in consequence of which on the 18th I supplied goods to the amount of £274 8s. 11d., and on the 21st to the amount of £485—on 25th I received this letter, and from that date to the 6th March I supplied goods to the amount of £336 9s. 10d.—on 6th March I received this letter (containing particulars of deliveries since last advice amounting to £554 10s. 7d.), and on 7th March I made a further supply, amounting to £627 2s. 7d.—on 8th March I received this letter containing particulars of deliveries amounting to £576 15s. 5d., and on the 16th I supplied timber to the value of £592 2s. 3d.—the total amount of the advices of goods delivered to the Government was £4,424 18s. 9d.—the value of my delivery under the contract was. £3,763 7s. 11d.—£503 3s. 1d. has been paid us—those amounts have been paid us by the Government for the goods which have been delivered—there is a balance of £3,260 still due to us under the contract—if the goods stated to have been delivered had been delivered we should have been entitled to receive the money—I believe it was not due on delivery, but some time within six months—I believed this timber had been delivered, or I should not have supplied the goods.
Cross-examined. This was a transaction in which I was to have no risk—I made out all the dock orders myself—the actual delivery would be by the Dock Company against the delivery orders—my first communication with the defendant was through Mr. King—I don't know whether Mr. King is here; I believe not—I knew that the defendant was acting for the company—the first negotiations were carried on by Mr. King; he introduced the transaction, and was acting between us—subsequently it was with the other directors—I do not know where the timber has gone; I believe it has all gone to the company except one portion, the
£353 for the oak, that was given elsewhere as a security—I say that of my own knowledge—I saw some of the directors from time to time—I ascertained that the Government acknowledged these contracts—I took the bills after the timber had been delivered; they were signed by the directors—they were not for all the goods supplied, but for a large proportion, I think about two-thirds of the amount—the total amount of the bills was £3,597—the defendant did not tell me that his company was in difficulties—there was some remark about the company wanting the contracts financed—I did not say I would make him free of the timber trade in six months—I said I daresay I could manage it for him—if the contracts had been carried out there would have been a margin of about £700—the timber we supplied was to carry out the contract; there was no stipulation to that effect—I understood, of course, that the timber would be used in the contract—the bills I hold are for over £3,000—the goods were not manufactured at Fenchurch Street, but at Deptford—I understood him that he attended at Deptford; he went there with me once—I went to Deptford previous to making this arrangement—I did not go there during the time this was going on, or ever sent anyone there—I had every confidence in Mr. Pound—he asked me particularly not to make any inquiry at the War Office as to the delivery—I have not said that before; I have not been asked—I was not present before the Magistrate when he said he would dismiss the charge—I was in Paris at the time—on the first occasion there was a discussion respecting the matter, but I can't say I understood him to say he was going to dismiss the charge—I believe none of the bills are due yet; the first bill is more than provided for by the actual cash I have got—I applied for process before I knew there was a petition; I heard of it the same afternoon—I applied for a warrant; they gave me a summons—I heard there was a petition against the company and a liquidator appointed—I had no interview with the defendant before applying for the warrant—I saw him the night before I went down to Deptford—I did not go to Deptford to see the state of things—I believe about £800 worth of goods were supplied after that—I have not applied to the War Office for that amount; it is not necessary—I believe I shall get it; I am not sure—the matter is in liquidation—I went to Deptford to see what had become of the timber, and what quantity of goods were ready for delivery—I valued the goods there at about £300 or £400—there was nothing absolutely ready for delivery—I speak of the value simply on my impression on looking at the stock—I went more particularly to see if there was any of my timber there, and I found there was not—that was about three or four days after I had obtained process—I saw no work on the goods at that time—the factory was in work—I found that the whole of the timber I had supplied had been consumed; at all events, it was not there—I did not see a large quantity of goods commenced—there was no question as to the supply of some fittings—I knew that some fittings were wanted to complete the contracts—I find that I am mistaken in saying that nearly the whole amount was drawn for—about £400 was not drawn for; about £1,200 is still undrawn for—for some of the things a different kind of timber would have to be used—I saw the liquidator twice after he was appointed—I desired that the contract with the War Office should be completed; one portion only was completed—I saw Mr. McGregor with the defendant the night before I applied for process—they
did not then tell me of the petition—I ascertained the same day that no delivery had been made at the War Office of the ammunition boxes.
Re-examined. The first negotiation took place through Mr. King—after I first saw the defendant Mr. King did not interfere at all—in every instance the goods I supplied were covered by the statement of the goods delivered to the Government—the fresh supply was always covered by the bills I received; the goods had generally been delivered a week or a fortnight before the bills were drawn—as to the last two deliveries, amounting to £1,200, neither of those amounts has been drawn for, and that has been the condition throughout—after the goods had been passed I drew bills for the amounts—the bills were never given till after the delivery of the goods by us—when they were given they covered the value of the goods, but in the meantime we had delivered other goods—I had a suspicion that the goods had not been delivered to the Government before I had applied for process, and I asked Mr. Pound to explain it—he said it was easily explained, and promised to show me their books—I went, and was simply shown a list of entries corresponding with the amounts given—I said I did not consider that a satisfactory mode of explaining this, that I did not like to suspect him of anything wrong, but to satisfy me he must get his company to go through the whole of the accounts, and give me a statement signed by all the directors that the goods had been delivered—I had a slight suspicion that there had been something wrong with the accounts, nothing further—I afterwards called on him, and he said he had not been able to go with me to the War Office as promised, and show me that the goods had been delivered; he did not appear, and then I went with my solicitor, and found they had not been delivered, then I applied for process—I first went to the offices of the company—I saw McGregor there, not the prisoner—I have not been able to get back any of my timber—I went to Deptford within two or three days of the process, and there was none there; it had all been consumed.
By MR. GILL. I have nothing to do with entering into the contracts—I was foreman in charge of the Contract Stores; I receive all goods—I know nothing about the contracts themselves; I simply keep a receipt book for receiving the goods—that was the only book I kept; it is not here.
By MR. MEAD. It would be my duty to receive goods under this contract—I never received any goods prior to 28th March—I have here the delivery order sent by the company of the goods they had to supply—there are none up to 28th March—forty-six boxes were delivered on 28th March; value, £79 7s.
Cross-examined. I am referring to an extract from the contract—I had four men under me—I kept the book—when I am absent another foreman is appointed to do the duty—I have been foreman since 10th July, 1887—I ceased to be so a month ago.
WILLIAM LITTLE . I am superintending clerk in the Army Clothing Department, Pimlico—the records of goods delivered under contracts would be under my supervision—clerks keep the records of delivery in my room—I have no knowledge except from documents, an absence of delivery
orders would be proof that no delivery was made—no deliveries have been made under the contracts 71071690, and 71071691, up to the dates in question; there are no delivery orders for them (MR. MEAD here read an extract from the contract, stating that deliveries were to be made between March, 1889, and February, 1890)—up to March nothing would be deliverable.
Cross-examined. Mr. Brinsmead made no application to me to see the contracts; they would not be in my possession—when deliveries were made, delivery orders would be given to the foreman, who would give them to me to make a record of as against the contract—deliveries have been made during the last month or two—I do not know to what amount.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES HENRY CHANNING MARTIN . I am manager of the Deptford works of this company, and have been for about two years—during that time Mr. Pound has not taken an active part as to work or management there, he has come very seldom indeed—the timber from Messrs. Brinsmead has been used under my supervision—these War Office contracts were commenced at Deptford in January, and were carried on with as much despatch as possible during January, February, and March—I got the number of boxes made approximately from the labour-sheets—as to making the ammunition boxes, the first step is the cutting out and the machine work, grooving, planing, and preparing the stuff for putting together; then they are put together by the carpenters, and the gun metal fittings and zinc linings are put on—about 1,700 are nearly complete out of the 2,046 for which the contract was—putting on the fittings would not mean much work; they are metal—the completion was prevented by the difficulty of obtaining from the country some zinc trays to fit in the zinc linings—it was a long time before we could find out where to get them—we received some about 24th March—they were detained at the station—that was one of the principal causes of delay—there were also gun-metal hinges and hasps—when the petition was filed there was a cask containing 500 sets of those at the railway station awaiting delivery—in consequence of the petition we were prevented from getting them; I have obtained them since; the work was stopped for a time—if there had been no delay in getting the fittings the work would have got on much faster, because I should have put more hands on, but their being stopped there was not the work for the men to do—at the time of the petition I believe about £500 worth of goods had been delivered under the contract of 1888—since then we have delivered 346 ammunition boxes, for which I have the Government receipts—the contract is complete, with the exception of about £1,000 in labour and materials and fittings, and a small portion of timber; £1,000 would cover it—it would take about three weeks or a month to complete the contract by putting these fittings on, and so on—when the petition was filed everything came to an absolute standstill—I was told not to make any further delivery; I had to take my orders from the liquidator.
Cross-examined. There was this delay about the fittings for the ammunition boxes from the commencement—we first delivered some on 28th March; I should have delivered others the same week—the goods were at Deptford Railway Station, the London and Brighton depot, at the time of stoppage—I don't know how long they had been there—they have
been delivered since—it was a matter of money—I was unable to pay for them, that was why they were not delivered—the liquidator has since supplied the money for doing the work—£1,000 would have been sufficient to pay for all the contract for the ammunition boxes—I only know of the contract of 1889 for Pimlico—I should think it would take at least another £1,000 to complete the boxes for the Army Clothing Department—we have delivered about 1,000, and we have another 1,000 ready to be delivered—about £3,000 is required to complete the contracts.
Re-examined. I was not allowed to pay for anything and take it in.
JOHN WILLIAM SIGGERS . I am secretary to Henry Pound, Son and Hutchins; the defendant was managing director; he had a large interest in the business, and I know he had advanced large sums of money to the company—he was advancing money to the company up to the time of the liquidation, from time to time—there was an amount of £5,000 to his credit—I am not aware of the reason for which he had advanced it—he has not to my knowledge in his private capacity pledged his credit by signing his name to bills—the bills have been all accepted—I know of work being done for the contracts—the prisoner was daily at the company's office at Fenchurch Street—I believe the day after the presentation of the petition against the company (I am not certain of the date) he called, and went through details of invoices and stock books at the office with me, and expressed his satisfaction that the timber had been sent to the factory—after the liquidator was appointed the management was taken out of our hands; that caused delay in the execution of the work, because we had to obtain permission of the Court through the liquidator before we could obtain anything—we had difficulty in obtaining fittings for things ready to be delivered—I had an interview with the man who sold the things that were lying at the station—I communicated with the liquidator about it—I have not been to Deptford—I do not know what amount is due from the War Office on goods that have been delivered since the liquidation; they are not charged in our books until we receive notice from the department that they are passed.
GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by Jury on account of the hard and striving manner in which he tried to uphold his business, and believing that he had no intent to defraud. Discharged on his own recognisances to appear for judgment if called upon.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
EDGAR ASHLEY . I am manager for Wean Ashley, of the Lamb Hotel, in the Cattle Market; I sleep there—on Saturday night, 25th May, I locked up the house at 12 o'clock—the next morning I found the door open leading from the bar to the house, the till broken open, and the contents, 14s., missing, ten pairs of boots gone from the bar parlour, and six pieces of meat from the kitchen—the catch of the kitchen window had been turned back, and the window opened—I secured that window on the Saturday night—in consequence of information I went to the police station, and charged the two prisoners, whom I found there on Monday
morning—I knew the prisoners before—neither of them had any business about the yard of the Lamb Hotel.
JOHN INGWERSON . I am a cattle salesman—I was sleeping at the Lamb Hotel at this time—on the Sunday morning, between two and half-past two, I heard a cracking and breaking, and some voices about ten minutes afterwards outside—I did not get up to see what was the matter.
FRANCIS BARNETT (Police Inspector Y). At a quarter to three on this Sunday morning I was passing the back yard of the Lamb Hotel, and saw the two prisoners there, standing in the gateway leading to the yard—I was in uniform—as I passed, Cleasby, who was looking furtively about, moved into the yard, which is used very largely as a cab yard—I thought they were men engaged with cabs—I have no doubt the men I saw were the prisoners; there was a lamp on the other side of the way, and I had full view of them—when I went on duty at ten that morning I heard of the house having been broken into, and I then went out with Murray, and made inquiries, and at four o'clock a. m., on 27th, I found Cleasby concealed in a corn-bin in a stable in the yard of the hotel—I said, "I shall charge you with being concerned with others in breaking and entering the Lamb, and stealing boots, meat, and 14s."—he said, "I did not do it; Smeggy, Sparkes, and Scotty know as much about it as I do"—I took him to the station, and he was detained—I knew Scotty was Brown's nickname—about nine o'clock the same morning I found Brown in the Cattle Market—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with others in breaking and entering the Lamb Hotel, and stealing boots, meat, and money—he said, "Has Cleasby rucked? If he has, I will b———y well kill him when I come out"—ruck means telling—he was taken to the station, and both prisoners were charged with breaking into the premises—neither of them said anything in answer to the charge—I examined the premises, and found the catch of the back kitchen window had been pushed back—there were marks on the window, showing it had been forcibly pushed back.
Cross-examined by Cleasby. You have never been employed in the yard.
Cleasby in his defence said he was employed by the night watchman at the hotel, and that when he had nothing to do he slept in the corn-bin, and he denied all knowledge of the matter.
BROWN then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony in March, 1889.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
547. GEORGE NAY (21) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the shop of Tyson Crawford and another, and stealing three pairs of opera glasses and other goods, after a conviction of felony in April, 1888— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
549. WILLIAM HENRY THOMPSON (33) , to forging and uttering a request for 11s. 8d., and also to obtaining a cheque for £2 from Arthur Athelstone Stacey, and money from other persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud.— One day's imprisonment. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
550. LEO ZETTO (23) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Rebecca Barnes, and stealing a watch and other articles, after a conviction at this Court in September, 1884, in the name of Frederick Hooper.— Twelve Month' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CAPPIN . I am in the employment of Phineas Cohen, cigar maker, of 24, Hanbury Street—the prisoner has been his apprentice, and would be out of her time in about two months—I identify these twelve cigars as the property of my firm, by the tobacco we make, and the peculiar construction—I have no doubt about them being our make—we did not sell them, because these cigars could never have been purchased retail; we don't sell retail, and they could not have been purchased wholesale in this condition, because these are all sorts of colours, and they have not been packed or put in a box—the value of them is 1s. 6d.—I have seen the prisoner's mother this morning—she has come over from Holland, and says she would take her daughter back with her, and we don't wish to push the matter any further.
SYDNEY KENDALL (Police Detective H). I searched the top floor front room in which the prisoner was living, at 158, Old Montagu Street, Mile End New Town, on last Saturday week—I found these twelve cigars on a sideboard by the side of the fireplace—before that I saw her in Commercial Street, and arrested her on another charge of being concerned with Leo Zetto in committing burglary—she said, "I did not do the burglary, and I don't know the man that was living in Montagu Street; I went to bed at quarter-past eleven on the night, and I did not get up before half-past seven next morning"—the Grand Jury have ignored the bill against her for the burglary.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
554. JOHN JAMES ABBOTT (18) , to forging and uttering a request for the payment of money, also a receipt for the same, with intent to defraud Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH SMITH . My husband is a tobacconist, of 61, Goswell Road—on 21st May, between 9. 45 and 10. 15, the prisoner came in and bought a pouch, price 6d.; he gave me a florin; I put it in the till, where there was no other florin, and gave him 1s. 6d. change—I tried it in a tester as soon as he had left, and it bent; I went to the door, but could not see him—a policeman brought me the same pouch the next day, and I gave him the florin; this is it—I afterwards went to the police-station and saw several men—I picked out a young man who was very much like him, but I did not say it was him; the inspector said, "Stand back," and then
I saw he was the man, and said, "That is the one"—the prisoner could hear that, but he said nothing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I swear to you; the inspector did not call my attention to you.
Re-examined. My husband was sitting in the shop parlour; I do not think he saw the prisoner.
WILLIAM CHARLES BAILEY . I am a tobacconist, of 224, Old Street—on May 21 I was in a room adjoining the shop—the prisoner came in about 11 o'clock, and I saw my wife serve him—he put a florin on the counter, and called for a twopenny smoke—my wife tried it in the tester and told him it was bad; he immediately put down one penny, and called for a penny smoke—I went into the shop and asked the prisoner where he got the coin; he said he did not know—I gave him in custody with the coin.
EPHRAIM WARNER (Policeman P 237). Mr. Bailey gave the prisoner into my custody for passing this bad florin; he said, "Let me go this time, as I have a mother to help to keep"—I said, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "I don't know"—I searched him at the station, and found a tobacco-pouch and a silver pencil-case; I asked him where he got the pouch; he said he gave 2d. for it to a man going up for the Militia—he gave his address 35, Cowper Street—I found that his mother lives there—he then gave his address 27, Munday Street, Hoxton; I found that he lived there—I received these two florins from Mrs. Smith and Mr. Bailey—Mr. Smith's is about half a mile from Mr. Bailey's—I took the pouch to Mr. Smith, and showed it to him—this is it.
GUILTY** of the uttering to Mrs. Bailey — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
VIOLET PARSONS . I am nine years old, and live with my parents at 5, Pancras Street, and have been in the habit of going to Mr. Wheatley's shop—on 28th May, about seven o'clock, the prisoner called me and said, "You go and get me twopenny worth of envelopes and writing paper"—I said, "Where I get the Echo?"—he said, "Yes"—he gave me a half-crown, and said he would give me one penny when I came back—he dropped the half-crown on the ground, and picked it up and put it in a piece of paper and gave it to me—I went to Mrs. Wheatley's, asked her for the paper and envelopes, and showed her the half-crown—she said she had not got change, and I was to go to the Champion public-house and get change—I did so, and Mrs. Webb, the landlady, gave me the change, but afterwards she gave the coin back to me and said it was bad, and took the change away from me—I went back to Mrs. Wheatley's, and Mr. Rawllinson was there—I gave him the half crown, and pointed out the prisoner to him across the road, sitting down sharpening something, and then he came across to me, looked in at the
door, and then went to the other window of Mrs. Wheatley's shop, and then Mr. Rawllinson went out and came back with the prisoner—I went out with them, and the policeman had him—I gave the coin to Mr. Rawllinson.
Cross-examined. When I came out of the shop the policeman said, "Is this the man?" and I said, "Yes"—I had never seen the prisoner before—the Champion is five or six doors down the street at a corner—it was when I came back from the Champion that I saw him looking in at the shop window—he was across the road when I was going to the Champion—I was very much frightened when they said the half-crown was bad, and I went back to Mrs. Wheatley crying.
Re-examined. He wrapped the half-crown in a piece of newspaper—when I saw him looking in at the window the policeman was there.
MARY WHEATLEY . I am a newsagent, at 12, Castle Street East, Marylebone—on the evening of May 28th the last witness came in to buy an Echo; she comes every evening—two or three minutes after that she came back, and asked for twopenny worth of paper and envelopes—she showed me a coin in paper which looked like a half-crown—I said, "I cannot change it, my dear, you must go and get it changed; "and she went out with it, and brought it back quickly, and showed it to me, and pointed out somebody who I did not see to Mr. Rawlinson, who went out and came back with a policeman—I did not see the prisoner till I saw him at the station—the coin was wrapped in a dirty sheet of newspaper—the constable brought the prisoner into the shop—the girl came back and stopped in the shop till the policeman came to take her to the station.
Cross-examined. There were ten or fifteen minutes from the time she came into the shop till the policeman arrived, and when she came back she was frightened and crying, and said the man was watching her; she said, "He is coming. '
JOHN RAWLINSON . I am a plasterer, of 38, Chapel Street, Tottenham—on 25th May I went to Mrs. Wheatley's shop; I go there every night—Violet Parsons came in and pointed out the prisoner to me from the door; he was sitting on the kerb on the opposite side—I went out with the constable, and when we went back in eight or ten minutes I saw the same man who the girl pointed out, coming across the road—Parsons handed me this coin; I marked it and handed it to the constable.
LIZZIE WEBB . My husband keeps the Champion public-house, Wells Street, Oxford Street—on 28th May the girl Parsons came in, and I gave her change for a half-crown—I then found it was bad, and returned it to her, and took the good money back, and she left—this is it.
HENRY THOMAS DEPLEDGE (Policeman V 251). I was on duty in Wells Street, and Mr. Rawlinson came up and showed me a coin—I went with him to Mrs. Whitehead's shop, and saw the prisoner crossing from one side of the road to the other to the shop window, and Mr. Rawlinson gave him into my custody—I told him I should take him for uttering counterfeit coin; he said, "I know nothing about it"—Violet Parsons came out of the shop, and I said, "Is this the man that sent you into the shop?"—she said, "Yes, "and burst out crying—I searched the prisoner on the spot, and found a florin, a shilling, and 1 1/2 d. all good—this is the half-crown.
Cross-examined. On the way to the station he said, "I came up to see if I could get a job at Rawlings' factory, as my brother-in-law worked
there"—he said to the little girl, "Are you sure I am the man?"—he did not attempt to get away.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I reserve my defence."
GUILTY **— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 25th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. T. COLE Prosecuted.
ROBERT MCDIARMID . I live at Glasgow, and am on a visit to London—on 17th June, in the afternoon, I was sitting on some railings opposite the Newcastle Temperance Hotel, Ruston Road—the two prisoners came up and said they could show me where to get a good glass of beer, and we went to a public-house and had some beer, which I paid for—I was sitting on a seat in front of the bar, and Orr tried to take my purse out of my left trousers pocket; he had his hand in my pocket, but I got hold of it, and prevented his taking it—both of them then got their hands in my pockets; I roared out "Police," and Orr bolted with my purse—the door was locked—the barman came to my assistance, and we kept Taylor—there was £9 in my purse; I have not had it back; I said £5 at first, but I forgot that I had put in £4 afterwards—I saw Orr at Bow Street Station at the end of the next week, and identified him.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I sat down to smoke and fell asleep—I was not the worse for liquor; I was only in two public-houses that day—I think I had three glasses of ale; I had no whisky—some women were in the house—I did not speak to them—I did not take out my money and say that I had plenty of money, and was cashier of the Bank of Glasgow—I am a cashier.
Cross-examined by Orr. I do not know the name of the public-house—I did not say, "Anything you like you can have to drink, I have plenty of money"—I may have said, "I have been travelling all night; I am going to Paris; I cannot speak French, and am going by Cook's excursion;" but you did not say, "I am acquainted with the French language, but I have got no money;" nor did I say, "I would not mind paying your expenses if you will go with me to Paris"—I did not count out £5 on the table—my purse was never out of my pocket.
WILLIAM GARDNER . I am barman at the Dolphin public-house, Tonbridge Street—on Friday evening, June 7th, McDiarmid and the two prisoners came in together about a quarter-past six—Orr called for three halves of bitter ale, which McDiarmid paid for with a sixpence from his waistcoat pocket—he did not take out his purse—he sat down on a seat, and the prisoners stood in the bar—I was sitting down reading the paper and heard a scuffle; that was about five minutes after they came in; no one else was in the bar; it was a quiet time—I looked up, and the prisoners had got the prosecutor on his back, feeling in all his pockets—I got over the next bar, and Orr ran out and ran down the street; I locked the bar door, and detained Taylor—he said he could throw me away from
the door, but I said he could not—the prosecutor knew what he was about, or I would not have served him—I picked Orr out from six others on the next Friday at Hunter Street Station—he left his hat in the bar at the time of the scuffle.
Cross-examined by Taylor. There were a lot of people in the house, but not in that bar; they could not see into it—there is a screen round the bar; it is a little private bar—I never saw either of the prisoners before.
WILLIAM DURRANT (Policeman G). I took Orr in the Union publichouse, King's Cross, on 14th June, about six o'clock, and said it was for stealing from the person described in the information, and stealing £5 in the Euston Road; he said, "All right, you have made a mistake"—he was put with a number of men at the station, and the barman picked him out—I searched him, and found five flash notes on the Bank of Engraving, each numbered 1786, but no money.
WILLIAM CARTER (Policeman E 85). On 7th June, about 6. 15, I was called to the bar of a public-house, and found Taylor detained there, charged with robbing the prosecutor—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he said that if I took him to the station he would make it warm for me—he tried to get away—he said to the prosecutor, "You ought to be ashamed to charge me after coining from Scotland with you, and being with you all day long"—he said, "I don't know you; I never saw you before"—I found on Taylor a £5 Bank of Engraving note, No. 1786, from the same plate as the others, and the same number.
Cross-examined by Taylor. You did not go quietly to the station; I had to call another constable.
Orr in his defence stated that the landlord ordered the prosecutor to be turned out, and his money dropped on the floor, and in the impulse of the moment he took it out of the prosecutor's hand, and put it in his pocket, which he would not have done had he not been drunk.
GUILTY. †— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. The Jury considered that great praise was due to Gardner.
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. GUILTY of a common assault. — Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL, JUN., Prosecuted.
WILLIAM JARRAD . I am a carpenter, of 17, Helmer Street, Fulham—on May 15, about 6. 30, I went into a public-house for a glass of ale, and the prisoner Shimell put his band into my pocket—I said, "Leave go of my money," and held his hand—I went outside, and in a minute the two prisoners came out; Wyse knocked me down, and Shimell put his hand in my pocket; I halloaed out for help, and Wyse put his hand over my mouth—Shimell took my money out of my pocket—I was partly insensible through being knocked down—I lost 10s., some halfpence, and half an ounce of tobacco—a policeman came—I went into the beershop with him and saw the prisoners pass something to some chaps who were sitting on a seat, who rushed into the yard—I stayed till the prisoners came back with them, and then went outside and went to the station.
Cross-examined by Wyse. You and I and a female were not drinking in the Rose and Crown; I was not with females at all—I paid for beer for me and my mate, but not for the female—I did not pay for three twos of whisky for her, and they did not refuse to serve me at the Rose and Crown, and turn me out for being drunk—Shimell took some of my money inside and some outside—I did not come in with three females and a man and offer to play at skittles for a pot of ale—I did not offer to strike you—we did not have a row in the house and get turned out.
By the COURT. Both my elbows were bruised, and I suffered pain from the fall—I felt it all the next day.
Cross-examined by Shimell. You put your hand in my pocket inside the house—I did not go in with three females—I saw you run from the house; you passed the money to someone sitting on a seat—I was not drunk; I was at work till eleven o'clock, and I had to draw my money at Milbank at twelve—the other man is not my brother-in-law; he was only working with me.
Re-examined. The prisoners are the two men who followed me out and pushed me down; one held me while the other robbed me—three females were with the other man; he is not my friend.
CHARLES CHAPPLE . I am a brewers' assistant, at 10, Salisbury Terrace, Fulham—on May 15th, about 6. 30, I was in the Royal Military Asylum beer-house, Franklyn's Row, Chelsea—the two prisoners and the prosecutor came in together, and three females followed them—the prisoners and the prosecutor had some altercation, and the females left the house; the prisoners began to hustle the prosecutor; I ordered them out, and when they got outside they threw the prosecutor on the pavement; Shimell held him by the hand while Wyse put his hand in his trousers pocket—I sent a boy for a constable, who arrived in five minutes—I pointed them out to the constable, who took them and searched them; Wyse was then rescued, and went through the house into the back yard and over the back wall—we gave chase, and he was re-apprehended by Short, and was very violent, and kicked and struck the constables—I threw Wyse on the pavement and fell on top of him—he said, "I will go quietly," but he was very violent all the way to the station.
Cross-examined by Wyse. I say that the prosecutor came in with you—I saw you robbing him outside, but I should have been killed if I interfered; I know the neighbourhood too well.
Re-examined. The man's head was between Shimell's legs, and Wyse was sitting on his legs almost, and got his hand in his trousers pocket.
THOMAS MORRIS . I am eleven years old, and live at 7, Franklyn's Row, Chelsea—on 15th May I was sitting at the window of No. 15, Franklyn's Row, and heard a man shout; I ran out, and saw the prosecutor lying down outside the Royal Military Asylum beershop—Shimell had his hand over his mouth, and Wyse put his hand in his pocket—I knew the prisoners before, and had seen them about the place.
Cross-examined by Wyse. When the man got up you ran towards where I live.
WILLIAM SHORT (Policeman 435 B). I was called to the Royal Military Asylum beer-house about half-past seven, and found Wyse inside—I told him I should have to take him in custody for robbing he prosecutor—he asked what I meant, and said he had not robbed anyone, and I had
made a mistake in the man—I searched him, and found 4 1/4 d. on him—I said I should have to take him to the station—he said, "You—, I won't go a step with you," and knocked me down on the floor—we struggled together, and I got up, got hold of him again, and Shimell caught hold of his shoulders and wrenched him away—Shimell opened the back door, and Wyse ran through and scaled the wall—I followed to the wall, but could not reach him—I went to the front door, and saw him turn down Turks Row towards Sloane Street—I went back to Franklyn's Row, and re-apprehended him—we both went down again—I got up and he kicked me on my legs; we both went down again—he said, "I shan't go any further with you; "I said, "You will have to go"—I got the assistance of another constable, and he fought most desperately, and kicked my legs, and struck me again, and we all went down—I got the assistance of another constable, and then I fell insensible—a dock constable took him to the station—I was 26 days on the sick list, and was one mass of bruises.
Cross-examined by Wyse. You were not sober.
Cross-examined by Shimell. You shut the door between Wyse and me—I did not arrest you because I did not know that you had any hand in the affair.
Re-examined. Wyse was the man pointed out to me—I did not know then that Shimell had anything to do with it; the first I saw of him was when he began to pull the man away from me—I did not see a stick brandished.
JOHN BASTAL (Policeman 401 V). I was sent for, and when I got to the door of the public-house Shimell saw me, and rushed to the door and got away; I caught hold of him; he said, "Blind me, you don't take me," and threw me down on my back—I got up, we had another struggle, and he made several attempts to kick me—assistance arrived, and we took him to the station; he fought and kicked like a madman all the way—I found on him 4d.
Wyse in his defence said that the prosecutor went with him to two or three public-houses, and made a stroke at him and fell; that the landlord turned them all out, and they had a fight outside, and the prosecutor was knocked down and shouted, "Police, murder, thieves,'" and he then put his hand over his mouth and said, "You are not dead yet;" he admitted knocking the policemen about, being very drunk.
Shimell in his defence stated that Wyse was a stranger to him; that the prosecutor came in with three females, and they were all turned out, and there was a fight outside; that he picked Wyse up, but knew nothing about the money.
Wyse then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell, on 3rd September, 1888, of stealing a watch from the person, after a previous conviction.
WYSE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour, and twenty strokes with the cat. SHIMELL— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
560. ARTHUR ALLEN** (37) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously stabbing Herbert Bywater, with intent to resist his lawful apprehension; also to stealing a watch and chain of Charlotte Hockin, in her dwelling-house, after a conviction of felony in May, 1888, in the name of Arthur Maxwell.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. (The Court awarded £3 to Herbert Bywater.)
562. JOHN BROWN (30) and HENRY CLARK (36) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Wm. Colchester, and stealing a coat and other articles.— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, June 25th, and
NEW COURT, Wednesday, 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder,
563. AMELIA MARIE POURQUOI DEMAY (30) and CHARLES COLNETTE GRANDY (36) , Unlawfully conspiring together, and with other persons, falsely to accuse Malcolm Alexander Morris of having made a promise of marriage to Demay, with intent to extort money.
MESRES. LOCKWOOD, Q. C., and BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FETCH Defended Grandy; MR. CANDY, Q. C., Defended Demay, but did not appear until late in the case.
GEORGE HENRY LEWIS . I am a solicitor, of Ely Place—after the action of Demay v. Morris was commenced, with the concurrence of the prosecutor's family solicitor the matter was transferred into my hands—I produce the original writ by Amelia Demay against M. A. Morris, issued on 25th February, 1889, in the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court, for breach of promise of marriage, and for slander, claiming £2,000 damages—I also produce a letter of 21st February from Mr. Hatton, a solicitor, which was handed to me with other papers, and was produced by Mr. Candy, who represented Demay, before the Magistrate; that letter preceded the writ—the statement of claim was delivered on 8th March, stating that the plaintiff had suffered damage by breach of marriage by the defendant—the statement of Mr. Morris in reply is dated 5th April, 1889, denying the promise—on 15th April the matter was transferred to me—I got an order for particulars; the first particulars were delivered on 6th May, 1889, stating that the promise was verbal, made on 21st March, 1886, in the first floor front sitting-room of the plaintiff's house, 85, Bolsover Street, and that the refusal to marry consisted in the defendant withdrawing himself from companionship and society of the plaintiff—I then had an order for further and better particulars—in consequence of that I wrote a letter to Mr. Hatton, protesting against this persecution to which Mr. Morris was subjected, in fact he complained that his life was a perfect misery—I produce a letter of Grandy's, dated April 29th, and in consequence of my reply to that Grandy brought an action against me for libel; I put in a statement of defence, and I do not suppose I shall hear anything more of it.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I have seen Grandy at my office, not in connection with this case, but as a private detective in connection with the Parnell case—I did not recognise him until he put the question to me at Marlborough Street—I then remembered him as coming to my office dressed in a fur coat, in company with a man named Scanlan, who, I believe, had been in the police, and who brought me a letter of introduction from somebody connected with the Irish Times, asking me to employ him as a detective, which I refused—I remember also on a later occasion Grandy coming alone and pressing me to employ him as a detective, alleging that he could give me very wonderful information, and stating that he had great facilities; I refused—he never was
employed by me in any way—it did not come to my knowledge that he had been employed by Mr. Soames, nor do I believe it—I do not know that he had been shadowing Pigott and Mr. Labouchere; I do not believe it; Mr. Soames is a highly honourable solicitor; but if the prisoner was employed by the Times it only shows what an escape I had in his coming and wanting employment from me; however, I should have refused to have anything to do with him—the action he brought against me for libel is still pending; the libel consisted in my having stated that, whilst he was living with this woman Demay (which he was) he had been guilty of misconduct against Mr. Morris, and that he had suffered two months' imprisonment for an assault upon a poor prostitute—when I first saw him I did not understand that he was a private detective; I only understood that as a perfect stranger he brought his card; I had never heard of such a man—he came with Scanlan, who brought a letter of introduction—I did not know Scanlan as a private detective; I had heard the name, and I believe there was a man of that name in the Police force—I employed Mr. Clark; he is a superannuated inspector of police in possession of a pension.
Re-examined. I cannot fix the date when Grandy came and asked for employment—it was before the inquiry commenced into the letter part of the Parnell case; some little time before Piggott's examination, which was in February last.
MALCOLM ALEXANDER MORRIS . I am a Fellow of the R. C. S. of Edinburgh and a Member of the R. C. S. of London—I have lived at 8, Harley Street, Cavendish Square, for two years; before that I lived for ten years in Montague Square—I have made skin diseases a specialty; I am surgeon in charge of the skin department of St. Mary's Hospital, and am lecturer in that medical school—I am also a member of seven or eight societies connected with medicine—my practice has been extensive; my name is well known in the profession—I am forty years of age; I was married in July, 1872, and have four children—my eldest boy is sixteen—I know Mr. Archibald Forbes, the war correspondent for the newspapers—in consequence of a letter I received from him in November, 1887, a Mr. Hester called upon me and consulted me, and in consequence of that visit I went to see him at 35, Charlotte Street, so that I might see him undressed and in bed—a woman opened the door to me; she had on a dressing-gown—I should not know her again—I asked her where my patient was—she said upstairs—I went up to the attic at the top of the house, where I saw him—a nurse was attending on him, who I heard had been in the family for some time—Mr. Hester was an ex-taxing master in bankruptcy, and was a gentleman in reduced circumstances—his surroundings were of great discomfort; it was an exceedingly poor, miserable sort of place, not suitable for a gentleman who was suffering from a mortal disease—I had told him previously in my consulting-room that his only chance was to go into a properly constituted hospital—there is a private hospital kept by a lady, Mrs. Marmade—I have no interest whatever in that hospital—I advised him to move, and he was removed shortly afterwards—I attended him daily, sometimes twice a day, up to the February, 1888, when he died—I attended him gratuitously the whole time—on 16th February, 1889, I received a letter signed "Amelia Demay"—I had no knowledge of any woman of that name—I had never been in a house in Bolsover Street in my life—the
whole story in the letter is an absolute fabrication and lie from beginning to end—I afterwards received a writ, dated 25th February, issued by Mr. Fk. Hatton, of 150, Strand—subsequently I received a letter dated 21st February, 1889, and another dated 27th February, 1889—I had then consulted my family solicitors, and afterwards, with their consent, put the matter in the hands of Mr. George Lewis—I first saw the prisoner Grandy when he called at my house—he told me he had a friend coming from Denmark, who was suffering from severe skin disease, who wished to put himself under my care in my house—I asked him the name of his friend; he said Captain Ohlsen, and that he was a Dane—I said I could not take him into my house—he said perhaps I could take him into some private hospital—he said he had heard of a private hospital in York Place, and he asked me for a card—he said his friend was a wealthy man, perfectly capable of paying for advice—I gave him a card, and wrote on it the name and address of Mrs. Marmade, 28, Baker Street; a lady named Bates was a nurse there; she had acted as nurse for me in some cases—I cannot recollect the date of Grandy's call, but I think it was a fortnight before I received the first letter of 16th February—I think I next saw Grandy a week or ten days before Easter—I saw him outside my house; it was in the morning, about the time I receive patients—he was there for several hours; he walked up and down on the opposite side, constantly looking at the house; one of my servants called my attention to him—after that he followed me and my wife and my servants, and generally produced a reign of terror in the house—he followed them wherever they went, so that they were actually frightened to leave the house—he followed me for hours together, and made my life an actual burden—he also followed my wife and my servants—I don't know the names of my servants—he followed me to my patients' houses, and he has waited till I have come out, and then followed me again—about this time I was attending upon Lord Lytton—one wet Sunday afternoon I took a cab from my door to Stratford Place—the prisoner was standing at the corner of Harley Street and Cavendish Square—he took a hansom cab, and followed mine—I went to Stratford Place, and held a consultation, and then I went to Sir James Paget about a bulletin to be issued next morning as to Lord Lytton's condition—after staying some time, I went to Bryanston Square, Sir George Campbell's house, where Lord Lytton was staying—I dismissed my cab, and the prisoner dismissed his, and stood waiting at the corner of the square—I went in and saw Lord Lytton—it was a matter of considerable importance—he noticed something was amiss with me—I told him what had occurred—I came out again, and hailed a passing hansom—Grandy rushed after my hansom, flourishing a stick; but as there was no other cab he could not follow—this persecution has occurred constantly—to my knowledge I never in my life saw Demay till I saw her at the police-station—I never had any conversation with her such as has been suggested—at last this persecution became unbearable, and I went to Mr. Lewis, and then we went to Marlborough Street—I may mention that the prisoner followed me once to the police-station, where I asked the inspector for protection against him—I showed him standing outside to the inspector; but the inspector said he could not protect me, and the only thing was to go through a public trial, which I did not shrink from doing—I saw a card produced by Grandy at the Police-court—I gave that card to a man
I believe to be Grandy, who left the name of Ohlsen—I afterwards received this letter of 21st April.
Cross-examined by Demay. My friend occupied a room at the top of the lady's hospital; it had not a very low roof—I was not unfaithful with you in Bolsover Street, I swear absolutely—I did not come to see you twice a week at Bolsover Street for five months; that is absolutely untrue—I did not give you a fancy performing dog.
Grandy here stated that he wished to defend himself, and MR. K. FRITH retired from the case.
Cross-examined by Grandy. You menaced me with a stick at the corner of Bryanston Square—you were probably ten or fifteen yards away at the time you ran towards me with the stick in the air—my servants are both here—I believe they told about what happened to them—I saw Miss Pratt when she was in Charles Street; I don't know where she is—she was the nurse in charge of Mr. Hester at the time; I have not seen her since he died—I have never seen you in Demay's company outside the house—I did not see you at 35, Charlotte Street—it has not been insinuated to me that you would be a witness in the civil action against me—my consulting-room is my back parlour—I have seen you when I have come out into the hall to say good-bye to patients—my solicitor has employed ex-Inspector Clarke to watch my house, 8, Harley Street; his instructions were to find out about your character—I have employed detectives myself—I was obliged to have protection to keep these people away from my front door, the police would not do it for me.
JAMES HALL . I lived at 3, York Place, Baker Street, up to last Saturday—I was employed as clerk and servant to Grandy—I have been connected with him in that capacity since October, 1888, when he was living at 35, Charlotte Street, with Demay—they lived there up to last March—I stayed in the house on several occasions—they lived there together as man and wife—I afterwards continued in Grandy's employment when they moved to 3, York Place, in March—they lived there as man and wife—I was secretary and manager of the household matters—I opened the door and attended to the servants—I had no salary; I had board and lodging for my services—Grandy at this time had an office in the Strand and afterwards at 10, Agar Street—I attended there and received customers who came for inquiry purposes—no business was transacted when we were at Agar Street; we were on the look out and ready for it—I wrote letters for him—this of 16th February is in my writing; I copied it from Grandy's dictation—I believe the signature to it to be in Demay's writing; I have seen her write—I directed the envelope, Grandy gave me the address—I don't remember if I posted it—I asked no questions about it—it was written just before we left Charlotte Street—I know Grandy's writing—I have heard him spoken of as the French Colonel—I think Grandy wrote this letter of 27th February, 1889, but I don't speak with certainty—all this draft of the letter of 21st April is in Grandy's writing, and the letter "F" is in his writing too—after I gave evidence before the Magistrate, I received these letters of June 5, 8, 10, and 11 from Grandy (The letters alluded to were put in and read)—I heard of this proposed action against Dr. Morris—Grandy asked me several questions about it, if I thought there was any ground for a breach of promise action against some party, not naming the female prisoner, and I said I really could not see any ground for action in the
matter—that was about December—it was to be brought by some lady; I was not informed who it was—he spoke of Demay as "Madame"—he consulted me so frequently about the action that it began to grow tedious towards the finish—on one occasion he said that instead of the lady he had represented bringing the action it was madame's sister, who had been connected with Dr. Morris, and she was dead; that was after he had received a summons for Marlborough Street, as we were walking through the streets round Manchester Square, I think in company with another party, Lynch—he showed us the summons—he said this action was not from the party whom he had represented to me, but the lady, he was sorry to say, was madame's sister, who was dead and six feet under ground—I don't know if madame was to take her place—I was not to give any evidence that I know of—I remember a letter from Grandy of 10th June—I introduced Lynch to him—"You introduced me to Lynch, and Lynch introduced that man Walker, who of course will be the cause of my case before the jury being refused, and me found guilty"—that refers to obtaining Walker to commit perjury—he never talked to me about Walker; I never saw the man, only while he was in Marlborough Street—Grandy told me frankly that Lynch had found him a man who would come and swear in Court that he had seen madame and the doctor together—I knew he was going to procure the man—when he says, "That would not have happened if Lynch had not introduced me to Walker," that refers to the same thing—I knew what it referred to.
Cross-examined by Grandy. When you went to Marlborough Street you left me in charge of the house—the coat and waistcoat I have on are not yours; I did not steal them, they were given me by Colonel Dashwood—I did not break open a cash-box and take a pearl brooch out—you first found me in the Strand; I was walking about, and you picked me up and took me out of misery—I did not have £8 from Colonel Dashwood—I did not give Mr. Brown a forged cheque for £6—all the cheques I have received are entered in the account-book—Mr. Titley has the money—I wrote letters for you from dictation and copies in your writing—I wrote a letter to the Evening News stating that I had been molested in Cavendish Square—I went to the Star to try and get it in—I wrote a letter at your dictation to Dr. Morris, that I had been molested by detectives; it does not bear your signature—I kept entries in your books of work done at Agar Street—I went with you to Cheney Gardens to watch Justin McCarthy, and stopped till two o'clock—I am aware you worked for private inquiry—you have never said to me that Demay was your wife—I can prove you lived with her as your wife, I have seen you in the same rooms together; that is all—I cannot say I have ever heard you talking to her about Dr. Morris—I have heard nothing that could suggest to my mind that there was any conspiracy between you and her—you have asked me to go and watch Dr. Morris's house, and I have been there—I gave Mr. Titley the balance with the books; it was about £6—what I have done with the remainder of £46 is shown in the books; there were expenses incurred for the house, you will find it properly down in the books—I have been indicted at a Court of Assize—I nave not been with another man to Kensington to obtain money from a servant girl under false pretences.
Re-examined. During our conversations I told Grandy I had been in an Assize Court; I continued in his employment after that—this letter is
in my writing; Grandy dictated it (This letter, addressed to the Editor of the "Evening News," stated that as he was walking across Cavendish Square he was attacked by a lot of ruffians, who he was informed were styled private detectives, and were planted there by some eminent doctor)—they did not attack me or the Colonel—I was walking across Cavendish Square, and Clarke's son, I think it was, pointed me out, and said, "There goes the French Colonel's man"—Grandy then dictated the letter—the "eminent physician" is meant for Dr. Morris—Grandy said it might draw something out of him; meaning it might draw money—I never heard him mention any sum as likely to be got from Dr. Morris—the letter was not published—he took it to the Star office, and showed it to them; they said the party who wrote the letter had better take action against the parties who had created the disturbance—the letter did not appear in the public papers.
HENRIETTA SIMPSON . I am under-housemaid in the service of Dr. Morris, and have been there nine months—shortly before Easter the prisoner Grandy came to the door and asked if we had a coachman living in the house—I called the other servant, Gilbert—a day or two after Grandy stopped me in the street, and asked me if Mr. Morris was in—I told him I was not at liberty to talk about Mr. Morris, or his plans or his whereabouts—he then said he was on behalf of a poor girl whom Mr. Morris had ruined; and he asked me if I was aware that Mr. Morris kept a bad house in Baker Street—he only spoke to me that once—I have often seen him walking up and down outside the house—he said he would reward me if I would give him any information about Mr. Morris—he did not say what the reward would consist of.
Cross-examined by Grandy. You have never menaced me—you came and tapped me on the shoulder—I was rather frightened by the way you looked at me—you did not use any hard words—I have never seen you with other people—I have seen you molest Mr. Morris, walking after him and making grimaces behind his back, and running after him—I was at the top of the area by the gate.
MARY GILBERT . I have been parlourmaid in Dr. Morris's service for four years—I remember Grandy coming to the house before Easter, and asking if the coachman was in; I had seen him before, but not spoken to him—I said, "No"—he said, "Does he live here?"—I said, "No"—he said, "What time will he be here?"—I said I could not say—he said, "Will it be at nine?"—I said, "It might be nine, ten, eleven, or twelve"—he asked if Mr. Morris was in—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Is he going away?"—I said, "No;" and if he was it had nothing to do with him—on that he pulled out his watch and went away with Hall—I never spoke to him on any other occasion—I saw him after this and once before, walking up and down in front of the house—every time I opened the door he stood and glared, sometimes making faces and pointing with his umbrella—I was frightened.
Cross-examined by Grandy. You were on the opposite side of the way—I have seen you stop people and speak to them, and you stopped the postman one morning—I was frightened at your haunting the house as you did—I have seen you following Dr. Morris in his carriage, and following my lady in her carriage—one day you followed her down the streets to Marshall and Snelgrove's—I know Mr. Hall by seeing him; he spoke to me first the morning you asked me for the coachman; he
was with you—I have seen detectives outside the house—I don't know in whose employ they were.
HARRIET PALMER . I am the wife of Henry Palmer, and live at 85, Bolsover Street—the female prisoner came to lodge there in September, 1885, and remained about twelve months—during that time I never saw Dr. Morris there—I never saw him there at all, to my knowledge, during the time Demay was there—she was living with a man, not Grandy—I first saw Grandy the day she went away; he was there when she moved; that was the last I saw of them until a day or two ago—the man she was living with was called Demay; they had three rooms, two on the first floor and a room at the top, used as a kitchen—I believe they were living as man and wife—they slept together, so far as I know.
Cross-examined by Demay. I could not swear that—I don't think I have ever seen Dr. Morris there—I don't remember ever seeing him till I saw him at Marlborough Street—I never saw you conduct yourself in an immoral way.
Cross-examined by Grandy. I have never seen you in the house—to my knowledge you did not help to move the furniture; you were there while it was being moved—I have been to Charlotte Street with Demay, not to visit her, I went to the house when it was to be let or sold.
ELIZABETH WALSH . I live now at 41, Carlton Road, Maida Vale—I used to live at 243, Elgin Avenue, Maida Vale—the prisoners lodged in my house as man and wife from the end of September, 1886, to the beginning of December, about ten weeks—they were known under the name of Mr. and Mrs. or Madame Grandy during that time—they had one bedroom and slept together—they left in December, 1886.
Cross-examined by Grandy. I saw no immoral conduct in the house while you were there—you took three rooms—I never saw you and Demay in bed, but you only had one room—she called you her husband—I cannot say she had told me so in your presence—I am certainly not aware she was your housekeeper—I should not have taken you unless you had said you were man and wife—you paid the rent—the rooms were taken in your name—you lived as quite respectable people, the same as an ordinary man and wife would live.
VALLET BROWN (Interpreted). I lived at 35, Charlotte Street, last July and August, when the prisoners lived there as man and wife, he as Mr. Grandy and she as Madame Demay—I left there at the end of October—when they were living together men visited Demay; Grandy knew it, and sometimes he went into the kitchen, sometimes he went away, and sometimes he waited.
Cross-examined by Grandy. I am not married—I call myself Mrs. Brown, it looks better—I am German—Brown is a nickname, my real name is Minnie Groser—I have been in England seven years—I have been doing what your wife did for a living—I am an unfortunate; I did the same before I came to England—I am twenty-five years old—I have not been living with a man who was taken up for cheques—I did not bring with me a Japanese man to 35, Charlotte Street; he kept me there—I went with him to Liverpool, then spent six weeks in the country, and came back to where you were living—I did not go on the streets during the time the Japanese kept me—after he left I went on the streets again—I was not turned out of the house—I stayed two months afterwards—the Japanese man gave me £50
Cross-examined by Demay. When I was going to leave your house every man I brought home you called a blackguard—I don't remember anybody coming and breaking a window.
ALLENE WILLIAMS (Interpreted). I have known Demay nine years—two or three months ago she called on me where I lived, at 23, Bolsover Street—I had not seen her for perhaps four or five months before—she sent me a letter asking me to call on her, and I went to her place, 35, Charlotte Street, and she asked me to come to the Court and say that I had seen a doctor at her place, and that I had heard the doctor promise her marriage—she promised me £5 if I came to the Court; I said no, because I did not want her to tell lies—she came twice to my place afterwards to ask me the same thing again—I gave her the same reply on each occasion.
Cross-examined by Demay. Our conversation was in French—you asked me if I remembered having been many times to your place in Bolsover Street—you did not ask me if I recollected the conversation we had relative to a doctor, a medical man—you spoke of £5 down and £5 afterwards—on one occasion when I was ill I sent to you for some money, and you sent me 5s.—you did not come to see my husband when he was ill, before he was taken to the madhouse; you never came to see him—5s. was all you gave me.
Cross-examined by Grandy. You were in the parlour at 35, Charlotte Street, when I came to the house—you were not present at the conversation; madame said she wanted to speak to me alone, and sent you away, and you heard nothing of it—my real name is Ellen Max—I was earning my living like madame, not at the present time.
Re-examined, Grandy was living with madame.
ALFRED WALKLING . I live at 28, Halkin Street, Sidney Street, Mile End, and am a porter—about the middle of last April Lynch came to me, and took me to a house in York Street, Baker Street—I saw no one there—about a week after I and Lynch were walking in the Strand, and we met Grandy—Lynch said to Grandy, "This is the man I was going to introduce you to"—I went with them to Short's—Grandy told Lynch that madame had gone over the road to the solicitors; that was nearly opposite, and he thought she was being watched, and he said to him, "Go and see if she is being followed;" Lynch then went away, and left me and Grandy alone together—Grandy then said, "Would you mind coming to the Court to give evidence in a breach of promise of marriage case? I will give you £5 when you go into the Court, and another £5 before you go in the box"—he told me it was a doctor, and he said, "You must say that you saw a lady and gentleman walking arm-in-arm down a certain street, which I will show you; I will show you the lady and the gentleman"—I said, "Very well, sir"—I had to meet him on the Easter Monday, I think it was, at three o'clock, by appointment, at the Globe, I think, near Baker Street Station—I did not meet him—the next time I saw him was in Marlborough Street—at the interview I had with him he said he was bringing an action against Mr. Lewis, and he showed me a letter from his solicitor's, in red ink.
Cross-examined. "When I saw you in the Strand was the first time I ever saw you to the best of my belief, and that first time you asked me about committing perjury—you talked to Lynch first, but when you took me into Short's the first thing you talked about was this affair—the converssation
in Short's wineshop lasted, I should think, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—I only saw you afterwards at the Police-court—I was to say I had seen them arm-in-arm—Lynch overheard half the conversation, the first part of it—he knew as well as you what I was going for, and what I was introduced to you for—Lynch came into the public-house and had a drink afterwards; he told you madame had gone out—you said you would give me £10 if I would so into the box, and you said the case would never come into Court, and the doctor would pay it; and "As soon as you get into Court I will put £10 into your hands, and you will bunk or slope as soon as you like"—I have not said that before—I thought of it afterwards—I have received no money from you, I could not get the chance—Lynch was talking about it first when he brought me up to you, but I cannot recollect the words exactly.
Re-examined. I was in the Army at one time, and I was discharged with as good a character as I could get—since then I have been working as a porter.
ADA BATES . I am single, and live at 28, York Place, Baker Street—I am a professional nurse—that house is a private hospital, carried on by Mrs. Marmade—I have been there 2 1/2 years—late in the evening of 26th February Grandy called—Mrs. Marmade was out, and as I do business for her when she is out I spoke to him—he said he had a friend who wanted to be treated by Mr. Morris for skin disease; he was a captain, and had we a room we could give him?—I said yes, we had a room—he did not ask about terms; people generally do—he began talking about Mr. Morris—he sent a card in, but he had it back again—it was the card I saw produced at the Police-court by his counsel—Mr. Morris always sent cards like it—Grandy said Mr. Morris had got himself into a nice mess, he was being sued for breach of promise of marriage by a lady friend of his, she claimed £2,000 damages—I said I did not believe it—he said I might believe it, for the newspapers would soon be full of it, and that the writ had been served—he spoke very loudly, in a much louder voice than people generally do their business in—people in the hall and passing could hear what he was saying; it was not at all private—he made an appointment to come the following Friday to see Mrs. Marmade; I said she would be in then—he did not come; no gentleman came; he never came again.
Cross-examined by Grandy. I don't remember your saying anything about Mr. Hester; I don't believe you did; two men called before and asked about him—he was dead when you called; I had nursed him—you asked after other people in the house—I don't think you asked for Miss Pratt—I did not tell you she was at Brighton; I did not know it; I know nothing about her—Miss Pratt had stayed with Mr. Hester till he died; she was an old servant, and helped me nurse him; I know nothing about her—you spoke in a louder voice, if anything, than you are speaking in now—it was quite loud enough to be heard in the street—I don't suppose the door was open.
WILLIAM JAMES (Police Serjeant D). I have known Demay seven or eight years, and Grandy three years, or a little more, as Charles Grandy or Charles Grand, and he is better known as the French Colonel—in March, 1887, he was in custody at the Marlborough Street Police-court, and Mr. Newton, the magistrate, directed me to make special inquiries about him—he was remanded twice, and on the last occasion Mrs. Demay came
to the Court, and stated in her evidence, in my hearing, that she was living with Grandy—Demay has been getting her living as a prostitute—since January, 1886, I have seen Grandy in her company hundreds of times, I may say—with the exception of five or six weeks, when he was employed in Great Tower Street in 1886 at 30s. a week, and discharged for incompetency, I have not known him in any employment—I have seen him in company with other prostitutes hundreds of times—he lives on them.
Cross-examined by Demay. I was present at Marlborough Street Police court when Grandy charged a woman with stealing his watch and chain—she was discharged.
Cross-examined by Grandy. I have been directed by my superior officer to attend the Court when cases you have been in have been heard—I did not know you had an office; I have heard you had—I attended as a witness at Bow Street when you appeared on a summons, at the instance of Batchelor, for assaulting him in the Strand—Mr. Bridge dismissed the summons—I knew nothing about the case, I only knew your character—I gave evidence—I know Planette, the woman you charged with stealing your watch and chain; she was discharged—she is not a friend of mine—I did not bring her to Bow Street—I spoke to her there—I know Mr. Ward—I believe you are living on prostitutes—I have seen you continually with Demay; you have walked Regent Street, and molested other women, and charged them at the Police-court, and all to clear them from that street in order to have the whole street clear for that woman with you.
Grandy, in his defence, denied that any conspiracy had existed between himself and Demay, and said they kept a respectable boarding-house.
GRANDY— Two Years' Hard Labour. DEMAY— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
ELLEN SMYTH . I am the wife of Major Smyth, of 35, Matlock House, Ealing—the prisoner had been our cook for three and a half years—she left on 18th May, after giving a months notice—I kept money in a wash leather bag in my dressing-case—I had £10 1s. 4d. and four sovereigns, which I had kept since 1841, there; I last saw it safe about 6th May—I could swear to this sovereign among twenty as one of them—it is dated 1832, and I have had it since 1841, just after I was married—among the other three coins were a Russian coin and a George III. guinea—on Saturday, 5th May, I missed all the money, and this 1832 sovereign out of the bag; on the following Monday I gave information to the police—the dressing-case was locked—I left the keys sometimes in one place, sometimes in another, on the mantelpiece or drawers, or under the dressing-case—I think the prisoner knew where I kept the money; I have taken some out when she was making the beds.
Cross-examined. When she was with me I had one other servant, who had been with me seven years, and another servant left a few days before the prisoner—I last saw my money safe between the 4th and 6th; I am certain—I am certain the sovereign was dated 1832; I often saw it, I
know it by a mark on the ear and two small marks on the margin—I can tell it from the other William IV. sovereign of 1832—I know the prisoner has asserted her innocence; she was advised to come here for trial.
FREDERICK SMYTH . I am a retired Major in the Army, and husband of the last witness—the prisoner was brought to me at Willesden Junction by Sergeant Mott, and I gave her in charge—she had been in my service about three and a half years—on 6th May I paid her £1 10s., and on 17th May, the night before she left, I paid her 12s., the balance of her wages—about 1841 I gave my wife a William IV. sovereign—I cannot identify it.
ELLEN TILLING . I am female searcher at Ealing Police-station—on 29th May I searched the prisoner, and found this purse on her; in it was £11 10s. gold, 8s. silver, and 3d. bronze—I handed it to Mott.
Cross-examined. It was not concealed.
ALICE SEXTON . I am housemaid in Major Smyth's service, where the prisoner was cook—she left on 18th—about the beginning of May she said she was very short of money—she said she was going to set sail on 30th May for California, and was going home to Wales first.
Cross-examined. When she said she was short of money she said she wanted to buy a lot of things, as she was going so far; she said she should have money when she went to Wales; that she had some in the bank in Wales, which she had sent to her mother to put away for her—she has borrowed money from me, and always repaid it—I had known for some time she was going away.
EDWIN MOTT (Detective Sergeant X). About half-past seven on 29th May I arrested the prisoner at Willesden Junction—I told her Major Smyth was going to charge her with stealing £11; she said, "What proof has he got?"—I said I did not know—I took her to the station, where she was searched—the female searcher gave me this purse and this sovereign, which Mrs. Smyth identified—when the prisoner was charged she made no statement—afterwards she said, "I can easily account for the money found in my possession; my brother in America sent £8 in paper money to my mother in Wales; she changed it, and gave me £8 in gold. While riding in the train, I sold my watch and chain for £3 to a lady, a stranger who I did not know, and it is not true what the witness Sexton said that I told her I had got money in the bank in Wales."
Cross-examined. She said she did not take the money—the Bench offered to take bail, but she was not bailed.
Cross-examined. Her character has always been good; she has been away for a long time—I never heard of her being extravagant—I cannot write—my son sent over £8 to his father, who cashed the note in Newtown and gave it to the prisoner with 10s., which he added to it—she did not take the £8 without our leave—I know she took away £8 10s.; my husband is here—she did not tell me she had sold her watch and chain; if she did so it was after she left home—she had been talking about going to California for a long time; I daresay that is why she had
the £8—she had been contemplating leaving her situation for some time.
Re-examined. She was wearing her watch and chain at home.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. QUARRELL Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
HENRY JAMES FULLJAMES . I was at Kempton Park on 10th June, and after the races I was on the special railway platform—I had on a coat, a covert coat, both buttoned, and a macintosh open; I had a chain, with a watch at one end and a sovereign-purse, made specially to contain twenty sovereigns, at the other—the train was drawing up, and I was endeavouring to get my wife in, and kept the crowd away, I felt a person squeeze between me and the train, and get partly on the footboard, and I felt a tug at my waistcoat—I looked down and saw the prisoner with my sovereign-purse in his hand—on his discovering that I saw him he hurriedly dropped the purse, and tried to make a great hurry to get into the train, and called to people, I don't know if they were his associates or not, to look sharp, or they would lose the train, as if that was all his anxiety—recognising him as a man who had previously attempted to pick my pocket at a race meeting, I called a constable and gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. The constable, who was on the platform, found him in a railway carriage next to the door, going on with the train about two seconds after this had occurred—it was five o'clock, I believe, directly after the races—there was a great rush of people, as usual—the last time someone attempted to steal my purse was Ascot last year, I think—the prisoner was admitted to bail next day.
Re-examined. He was in the same railway carriage I was trying to get into—I saw my purse in his hand.
Cross-examined. The five o'clock train is just after the races—there had been struggling to get in.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. JONES LEWIS Prosecuted.
SARAH ELLEN MUNDAY . I am the prisoner's wife, and live with him at 29, Bridgewater Street, St. Pancras—on Saturday evening, 1st June, I was lying on my bed with my six months' old baby about five p. m.—the prisoner came in the worse for drink, and asked me to get him some tea; I refused—he went to the sideboard or table, and picked up something, I could not see what it was; he came to the bed, and struck me once on the left side of the hip with his hand; I don't know if there was anything in it or not—he then went away, I saw no more of him—I went in the next room and knocked at the door, and asked them to fetch someone for me, as I was bleeding—I walked downstairs, and the police and doctor came and took me to the infirmary, where I have been till now—
I am well now—I feel weak; I have not been discharged from the infirmary—I felt very weak after this blow.
Cross-examined. I was drunk on the bed—I did not see anything in his hand.
GEORGE PATTEN (Policeman Y R 25). At 5. 25 on this evening I was called to 29, Bridgewater Street, where the prisoner and the prosecutrix lived—I found the prosecutrix standing in the passage, up against the wall, bleeding very much—blood was running down her legs—I sent for a surgeon, and he had her removed to St. Pancras Infirmary in a cab—about one o'clock a. m. I took the prisoner in custody, and told him I should charge him with stabbing his wife; he made no remark till we got outside, then he said, "Is she dead?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I am very sorry she is not. Where is my children? I am very sorry to think of what I have done. I was in drink, or I should not have done it"—I afterwards searched the room; I found the bed all disarranged and smothered in blood, which was also down the stairs—I found this knife, without a handle, lying close against a pool of blood on the floor, about two feet from the bed; I could see no mark on it—these two knives and this razor I found on a shelf—the prisoner was a great deal the worse for drink.
WILLIAM JAMES MACFARLANE . I am a surgeon, of 70, Oakley Square, St. Pancras—on 1st June, at quarter-past five p. m., I was called to 29, Bridgewater Street, where I found the prosecutrix standing in the hall in a weak state—she had lost a lot of blood—I found a wound on her left hip about an inch long; I bound it up—she was taken to the infirmary—her pulse was very weak.
WALTER MACINDOE DUNLOP . I am medical officer to St. Pancras—the prosecutrix was brought to the infirmary about 5. 15 on this day—I saw her—she was suffering from shock and loss of blood—her clothes were saturated with blood-through each garment there was a cut exactly corresponding with the wounds, and behind the left hip there was a punctured clean cut wound about an inch long, and on probing it I found it reached to the bone; the flesh there was about two inches deep—it was such a wound as could have been caused by one of these knives—this one without a handle is the most likely one—she is much better, but she has not been discharged from the infirmary yet.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "Iwas drunk at the time it happened, and having served in India and had a sunstroke, a little drop affects me. I have been a good husband and a good father. I wish you could settle the case here."
The Prisoner in his defence said it was an accident; that he was cutting bread, and rushed, forgetting the knife in his hand, to save his wife from falling out of bed, and it went into her; that she was drunk, and he had had no dinner, and had asked her several times to came out of the public-house.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. Four Months' Hard Labour :
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted. JAMES CHARLTON, Police Sergeant N 21, produced and proved a plan. HENRY SUCH. I am a tie cutter, and live at 139, Lovelace Road, Clapton—I have been for some years in the employ of Messrs. Pattison, of Staining Lane, City—I have been keeping company with Amy White, and have been in the habit of walking out with her—on Saturday, 8th June, I was with her in the fields in the neighbourhood of Stamford Hill, by Bailey's Lane, we got there about a quarter-past six in the afternoon—we sat on a rail which was open at the back, and in front there was a gap in Craven Walk—I was sitting with a foot on the path, Miss White was sitting beside me—we were looking at some cricket playing part of the time—a few yards away on our right, I saw Mr. King with a lady—I could hear them talking and laughing now and again—people were continually passing along, both in front and back—I saw a constable pass, that was about seven—just before he passed, I saw some men crouching behind the hedge, looking through—Reed was one of them, and to the best of my belief Trimby—I walked up to the fence where they were, and as I did so they disappeared—I went back to the fence, and put Miss White's mackintosh on in fun—after that Reed walked straight over to me and said, "What are you doing here?"—I said, "I have a right to sit here; it is a public place"—he said, "Look here; I have been watching you for some time; I want squaring"—I said, "I don't know what you mean"—he said, "I have two witnesses here"—he said something about money, I cannot tell the exact words; he half turned round, and made a kind of signal, and two men came running up; to the best of my belief Trimby is one of them; the other I have not seen since—Reed put his hand on my right arm; I shook him off—he ran at me, and caught me by the collar of my coat, and shook me; we struggled, and both fell to the ground, I on the top—as I was holding him on the ground, a man who I have since known as Hughes came up; he said, "You are a younger man than him, "and he pulled me off—we both got up, and the four men caught hold of me, Reed, Trimby, and Hughes, and another man; I was between the lot of them; when the two men came up they said they wanted to be squared—Trimby, if he was one of them, said so, and the other one who is not here; that was repeated twice; Mr. King said to me,"Run for it"—I said, "Look after the young lady, "and I ran straight down the lane, leaving Miss White behind—as I started, I turned round and saw the four men behind me; Reed stopped at the corner, and the two younger ones followed me; to the best of my belief Trimby is one of them—I turned round and faced them, one of the two asked me for stocking money—I kept on for a time, and eventually turned, and made my away back to the place I had started from—I found none of the men there then—I met Mr. Harvey; he told me something, and a little after that I met Miss White, Mr. King, and his young lady—I went with them to the station, and there found Reed in custody, and charged him.
Cross-examined by Reed. When you came up to me you said, "What are you doing hero?"—you did not say I was disgracing myself in front of a lot of children.
Trimby. I did not go up till they were on the ground—I went to see what the row was—I am very sorry that I swore falsely at the station.
Re-examined. It is not true that I committed any act of indecency.
AMY WHITE . I live with my mother at 53, Rushmore Road, Clapton—I have been for about three years employed at fancy work in the neighbourhood—I have been keeping company with Mr. Such for about eighteen months—two or three times before this happened I had been for a walk to this brickfield—on Saturday, 8th June, about half-past six, I went there with Mr. Such—we were sitting on a rail watching the cricket—I had a mackintosh—Mr. Such went from the rail to look at some men, and came back, and he put on my mackintosh for fun—we were sitting there still when the prisoner Reed came up and said, "What are you doing there?"—Mr. Such said, "Have we not as much right to sit here as anyone else? it is a public pathway"—Reed said he had been watching us for some time, and seen what was going on, and he said, "I want money for what I have seen"—Such asked him to allow him to pass, and he caught hold of his arm—I saw Reed give a sort of signal, and upon that two other men came from behind where he had come from; I could not recognise either of them—when Reed put his hand on Such's arm he shook him off—he then took hold of his coat when the other two men were there, and in the struggle they fell, Reed underneath—Mr. King then came up—I had noticed him sitting there, and could hear him and the young lady talking—he said to Mr. Such, "The best thing you can do is to run; we will look after the young lady"—he ran, and the men followed him—I stopped behind with Mr. King—we followed on behind them in the direction Mr. Such had taken—Mr. Harvey was there as well—as we walked up Bailey's Lane, Reed came up to Mr. King, and said he had assaulted him too—Mr. King or somebody in the crowd said, "Here is a policeman coming"—Mr. King called him, and spoke to him, and Reed was detained, and taken to the station—while we were sitting on the rail people were passing along the footpath quite close, and people were playing cricket behind—I noticed the constable pass a little while before.
Cross-examined by Reed. I did not see a perambulator there with children in it—I heard you ask for money.
HENRY FRANCIS KING . I live at 75, Mansfield Street, Kingsland—I am clerk to the Royal London Friendly Society in Paul Street, Finsbury—on 8th June I was in these fields near Stamford Hill with a young lady—we were sitting a little way off Mr. Such on a rail in Craven Walk; I believe within a dozen yards—I could hear them talking—after sitting there some time I heard a noise, an altercation—I rose up, and I heard Reed say, "I will have what I want, and I must have it"—when I got there Reed had hold of Such by his collar—there was a struggle, and they fell to the ground—Hughes came up, and pulled Such off—I did not see where he came from—I saw Trimby on the bank of the railway—when Such got up, I said to him,"Run away, and I will look after the young lady"—he did run away, and was followed by the two prisoners and another man—I, and Miss White, and the lady I was with walked on in the direction he had run—as we were walking along Reed came back to me, and said he wanted to know why I interfered in the business, and what was I going to do now—he had his fist
clenched—I saw a constable and called him, and told him what had taken place, that he had assaulted a young gentleman and his young lady, and accused them of indecent conduct—Reed said, "Oh!"—I said he was with the other two—he denied all knowledge of the other two—he was detained, and taken to the station.
ARTHUR HARVEY . I am a clerk, at 33, Cornhill—on Saturday evening, 8th June, I was in these fields—I saw Reed having hold of Such's coat collar and demanding money; he said he wanted to be squared—and directly after he said, "I will have something; I mean to have it"—they struggled, and Reed fell under—two men then came up from behind—I could not recognise them, and another man came and pulled Such off the prisoner, and the other two demanded money—I could not catch the exact words they used, but they said they wanted squaring—the prosecutor then ran away, and he was followed—I was with Mr. King when Reed came up, and he was detained.
ALBERT WILLOUGHBY (Policeman N 83). On 8th June, between seven and eight, I was on duty in these fields—there were a number of people there—Craven Walk is a path well frequented—I noticed the prosecutor and Miss White sitting on the rail; there was nothing to attract my attention—I also saw Mr. King and a young lady sitting there—some time afterwards I heard cries of "Police!"—I went to the spot, and Mr. King pointed Reed out to me, and told me he had assaulted a gentleman, and tried to extort money from him—he did not describe in what way—Reed made no reply—Mr. King also said something about two men who had ran away—I detained Reed, and he was taken to the station and charged by the prosecutor—he was taken before the Magistrate on Monday morning, and remanded till Wednesday, 12th—Trimby was then examined as a witness on Reed's behalf, and after he had given his evidence he was taken into custody, and charged at Stoke Newington station—he made a long statement, which the inspector took down—on the 13th he was taken before the Magistrate again, and further depositions were taken—Hughes was called as a witness on behalf of Reed—he had been at the station on the Saturday when Reed was taken.
CORNELIUS MCCARTHY (Police Inspector N). I was at Stoke Newington Station on 12th June, when Trimby was charged—in answer to the charge he made a statement which I took down in writing, read over to him, and he signed it (In this statement he alleged that he had witnessed indecent conduct on the part of the prosecutor and Miss White).
JAMES TRIMBY . I live at 131, Olinda Road, Stamford Hill—I am the father of the prisoner Trimby—I know his handwriting—these letters (produced) are his writing, addressed to me from Holloway Prison (In the first of these letters, dated 18th June, he repeated his accusation of indecency; in the second, dated 21st June, he stated that the accusation he had made was false; and that he had been induced by Reed and Hughes to make it.
Reed's Defence. All I have to say is that I did not ask for any money at all—I will call Hughes.
Witness for Reed.
EDWARD HUGH HUGHES . I and the prisoner were out for a walk on this Saturday afternoon with twins, two babies, in a perambulator, and I saw a young couple sitting on a hedge***—the prisoner, seeing it, went down and said something to them, but what it was I do not know—I then went down and pulled the prosecutor off the prisoner; he was
gasping for breath—I beg pardon, I have made a mistake—the young man caught the prisoner by the throat and threw him on the ground—I took the young gentleman off of the prisoner, and the prosecutor got up and ran away—I saw no more till I was sent for by the constable, who took me to the station.
Cross-examined. I live at 93, Olinda Road—Reed has lodged there for about three months; he and I started off for a walk on this afternoon with my children—when I went and pulled the prosecutor off the prisoner I left the children on the bank; I went back to them afterwards—I did not see Mr. King there; he was not there till the crowd followed the prisoner and prosecutor—the prosecutor ran away when I pulled him off—I took the babies home then—I followed the prisoner and prosecutor—a lot of young cricketers followed them, I can't swear that Trimby did—I did not say to the prosecutor, "I want squaring," or any words to that effect—I swear I did not ask him for money in any shape or way—there was nobody about in the field then that I am aware of—I did not see a policeman till I was in Bailey's Lane—the prosecutor and the young lady were sitting on a rail by a tree—there was a gap in the hedge by the rail, and a pathway just in front of them, along which a good many people walked—anybody in the fields could see the prosecutor and the young lady—I went to the station on the Saturday afternoon—I am not aware that I was asked any questions by Inspector Jenkins; I can't say whether I was; I know Mr. Jenkins by sight—I can't say that he asked me what I knew about the case; I can't say whether he did or did not—I did not say that I knew nothing about it—I don't think I made a remark at all—the prosecutor was at the station, and Mr. King and Mr. Harvey and the Constable Willoughby—I could dare swear that I did not in their presence tell Jenkins that I knew nothing whatever about it—I can't say whether I did or did not, I was too much flurried at the time—I can't swear that I was asked anything or not—I was flurried seeing the prisoner taken to the station, I did not know hardly what was going on—I did not take the children to the station, I took them home, and then went to the station—I know Trimby—I saw him on the Monday after the Saturday at Stamford Hill, in the street; he asked me, "How did the prisoner get on?"—I said, "Very bad, "and I said, "I want you"—he said, "Very well, "so I did not see any more of him till the evening—I did not take him into a beershop and treat him with beer—when I met him again in the evening I took him into the Turnpike public-house, and gave him some beer and paid for it—I did not say to him, "Iwill pay you well"—I said he was to come up and give evidence on behalf of Reed if he saw anything of it—I went home with him to Mrs. Reed—I did not see her give him any money—I don't know that money was given him—I don't know that he went back by tram; as soon as he came into the house I went and got another young gentleman to see what he had got to say about this case—I have heard of the letters Trimby wrote, I did not see them—I dare say I was about eight yards from the prosecutor and Reed when they were struggling:; it might be a little more—I can't say that Reed did not say, "I want to be squared, I will have some money, "Iwas not near enough.
Evidence called in Reply.
Saturday evening when the witness Hughes was there—I heard Inspector Jenkins ask him what he knew about the case—he said he knew nothing about it no more than seeing them struggling on the ground, and he went and pulled the prosecutor from the prisoner—Mr. Such and Mr. King were there, and also heard what he said.
WILLIAM JENKINS (Police Inspector). I was on duty at the police station, Stoke Newington, on June 8th, when Reed was brought there—the witness Hughes was there—I asked if anyone appeared on behalf of Reed, and Hughes stepped forward and said, "I know nothing about the matter, only that I was proceeding home with my children in the perambulator, when I saw Reed struggling with the prosecutor on the ground, and knowing Reed so well I went to his assistance, and pulled off the prosecutor.
Reed. I have nothing more to say; I done it with a good intention, not with any intention of making any money—I am very subject to fits from a fall I had—I have had two or three in a day, and I lost my last situation through it—I did it with the intention of preventing indecency.
Trimby. Hughes asked me to come and speak in Court—he gave me beer, and Mrs. Reed gave me money, 3d., and she gave me 3d. besides, and she gave me food and paid my fare about; and Hughes said he would pay me a good day's work, and I should be all right for a pound or so; and he said I should be paid very well for going into Court—he told me to speak up well, and he kept enticing me to swear that Reed never asked for money.
GUILTY. The Jury recommended Trimby to mercy on account of his youth. They also desired to add that the prosecutor and Miss White left the Court without a stain on their character. REED— Twelve Months' Hard labour, and TRIMBY*— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.
HENRY RAMSBOTTOM . I am master of the City of London Union Workhouse at Lower Clapton, and my wife is the matron—I have been there nearly ten years—the prisoner has been an inmate from time to time since I have been master—I think he has been an inmate over 200 times—I have never ordered him any punishment; he has no foundation for any grievance against me—on Saturday, 25th May, he had the privilege of being out from nine a. m. till eight p. m.; that was an unusual privilege—he was employed as a wardsman, in consequence of which he had extra privileges—I did not see him go out or come in on the 25th—I was in the main building about quarter-past four, going from my room to the infirmary, when I saw him coming towards me with his hands by his side—as he got up to me he struck at me with both hands—I saw the blade of a knife, and seeing the blow coming I put up my arm, and received the blow on my wrist, and found I was badly stabbed—as he raised his hands he said, "Am I to be starved by that b——Barker and you?"—Barker is the storekeeper—finding I was bleeding profusely I went into the lavatory—I called to my wife, and she came to me immediately, and the doctor and nurse came to me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not punish you for walking out in front of the old men's ward.
JOHN WHITE , M. D., of Portland Place, Lower Clapton. On Saturday afternoon, 25th May, I was as accidentally entering the workhouse, and found the prosecutor in the lavatory—he had a punctured wound in front of the left wrist, and was in a fainting condition—there was a good deal of blood on the floor, and the wound was bleeding, and a large branch of an artery was severed—I have attended him up to the present time; he was not in actual danger, the wound has practically healed, but the skin is very tender yet—the blow must have been struck with violence; it penetrated to the bone—I saw the prisoner afterwards at Hackney Station, and examined him—I found that his right shoulder was dislocated—he told me that he had dislocated it before on two occasions; the act of striking this blow might have dislocated it much more readily.
ALICE RAMSBOTTOM . I am the prosecutor's wife—about a quarter to four on this afternoon I was in my dining-room; I heard my husband calling out; I rushed out and went after him into the lavatory—I saw a stream of blood flowing from his left arm—I got two napkins and wrapped round it—the prisoner came up to the lavatory and said, "I want the b———master, or the b——Barker; am I to be starved by these two b——? I don't care what punishment I receive"—I said, "Go away"—he raised his arm to strike me—Barber rushed in between us and took him down the corridor.
ELIZABETH BARBER . I am one of the matron's servants—on this afternoon I heard a noise in the entrance-hall—I went to the door and saw the prisoner there, with his hand up to strike the matron—I went to him and said, "You would not strike the matron, she never hurt you or any other man."
HESTER STONEMAN . I am-an inmate of the Union—on this afternoon I saw the master bleeding very much—I saw the matron go into the lavatory—after that I saw the prisoner with a knife in his hand; I could not see the handle, only the blade; it was up his shirt sleeve—he said, "I will rip the b——up, and the other one too, that b——Barker; they are the two b——starvers; I am starving"—I said, "My good man, go away, and put the knife away" he closed the knife and went away.
Prisoner. I had no knife in my hand.
WITNESS. I am quite sure he had.
JAMES WATERSON . I am an assistant in the master's office—on this afternoon, about half-past four, the prisoner came into the office in a most extraordinary excited manner—he said he would murder the master and the b——storekeeper; that he was starved, and wanted his dinner—he came towards me, up with his fist, and offered to strike me in the face—I told him this was no place for him to have his dinner; he had better speak to the storekeeper—the storekeeper came up immediately afterwards, and he spoke to the prisoner, and said, "Come with me, "and that was how he was got out of the office.
WALTER PERCY BARKER . I am storekeeper at Homerton Workhouse—on the afternoon of 25th May, about four, I was told something, and went to the master's office, where I found the prisoner—I said to him, "Austin, what are you doing there? Come out of that"—he came towards me and said, "I am starving"—I said, "You will get nothing to eat there; come with me to the infirmary and I will give you a dinner"
he had an open clasp knife in his hand; I told him to shut it up; he did so, and gave it to me; this (produced) is it—I took him to the infirmary—I said to the nurse, "He has another knife; ask him to give it up," and he did so—the prisoner was on No. 3 diet; that is for breakfast, five ounces of bread and butter and one pint of tea; luncheon, half a pint of porter and one pint of milk; dinner, a pint of beef-tea, four ounces of bread, and two eggs daily; tea, five ounces of bread and butter and one pint of tea; fish Monday and Friday, tobacco every Saturday—I can't say how long he had been on that diet.
By the JURY. He was excited; I could not say by drink; he spoke very sensibly—he would have had his dinner about twelve if he had been in.
THOS. PETTIT (Policeman J 312). I was called to the workhouse, and received the prisoner in charge—I took him to the station and charged him with wounding the master—he said, "The master pushed me down; I then got up and struck at him with my knife"—these knives were handed to me at the station—he was perfectly sober.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. He had been four times convicted of assault.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. GREEN Defended.
WILLIAM MILLS . I am a fishmonger, and live at 8, Bayonne Road, Fulham—the prisoner is my father; he married Mary Jane Mills, my stepmother—on Sunday, 26th May, I came home about eleven or twelve at night—my father and mother were in the kitchen, no one else—father was sober, mother was the worse for liquor—I went to bed—while there I heard a few words between them; I did not hear what was said; I heard nothing else till between five and six in the morning, when father awoke me and said, "For God's sake come into the next room!"—I went and saw mother lying on the floor undressed—she did not know me; father was trying to restore her to consciousness—I had no conversation with him then—after the doctor came he told me what had happened—he said he was in bed asleep, and mother came up and struck him two or three times in the face, that he rose up half asleep and struck her back—I noticed a mark on her left eye, I did not notice her ear.
Cross-examined. Their bedroom was on the ground floor; mine was at the back, adjoining; I am not a heavy sleeper; it would not take much to wake me; I heard no noise in their room during the night—my mother was very often drunk, two or three times a week for the last two years—I was living at home with them during that period—the house was in a dirty condition—I have heard my father complain of mother pawning his goods—I never saw father knock her about; she never complained to me of being knocked about by him.
MARIA DUNN . I am the wife of Henry Dunn, a shoemaker, of 103, Clarendon Street, Harrow Road—the deceased was my eldest daughter—on Tuesday afternoon, 28th May, the prisoner came to our house—he said, "I want you to come home to Jenny; she is very queer"—I said, "What is the matter with her?"—he said, "I have given her two blows, but go home, and bathe her, and make the best of it"—he gave me 6d., and I went—he said he would be there in half an hour—
I found my daughter in a very bad state indeed; she could not speak; she was unconscious; I did all I could for her, and never left her for five minutes till she died—the prisoner did not come home till half-past twelve—he said, "How is it going on?"—I said, "She is sinking fast"—he said he did not think she was, and he tried to open her eyelids, but I would not let him—he said, "I done it; I gave her two back-handed blows; "I asked him who undressed her—he said, "She undressed herself"—I said, "She never did; who took her stockings and shoes off?"—he said, "Herself"—I said, "Never, "and I don't believe she did.
Cross-examined. He said she had given him two blows first—he got her beef-tea, and did everything he could.
EDWARD COONEY . I am a physican and surgeon, of Norman Lodge, West Kensington—on 27th May, a little before 1 p. m, I was called to Bayonne Road—I found the woman unconscious, suffering from compression of the brain—there was a contusion on the left eye and behind the left ear—those seemed the only external injuries—the left side was paralysed, and the right half of the face—I asked the prisoner how she came in that condition—he said that she had been knocking herself about, drinking; that he was asleep in bed when he received two blows from her, which he returned, and struck her on the side of the head, and he found her unconscious when he got up in the morning—he did all he could to carry out my instructions as to her treatment—she lingered until the 29th, and died at 9 p. m.—on the 31st I made a postmortem examination—there was extensive ecchymosis behind the left ear, and the pia mater was ruptured—the immediate cause of death was due to injury on the left side of the head, caused by a blow—the other organs were healthy.
Cross-examined. She had been recently taking liquor—she might very possibly be conscious for a short time after receiving the injury, and been able to undress herself and get into bed—I don't think a fall would have caused the injury; it must have been by a blow.
LEWIS CROFT (Police Inspector T). I received information, in consequence of which, on 29th May, I went to 37, Bayonne Road, about 7 p. m., and saw the prisoner—I told him I should take him into custody for assaulting his wife, and causing her bodily harm—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said, "I came back from Chelsea on Sunday night, and had to go out to a job for twenty minutes; I went back, and went to bed; I was woke up by receiving two blows; I then struck her two back-handed blows, and in the morning she was insensible"—I took him to the station—he was then told that his wife was dead, and he would be charged with causing her death—he made no reply.
HANNAH NOBLE . My husband is a carpenter, of 36, Bayonne Road, next door to the prisoner—I have on several occasions heard quarrels between the prisoner and his wife—they were so often I could not tell the exact date, but five days out of six he was giving her a severe thrashing—my kitchen window faces theirs—I remember one occasion, about four weeks previous to this occurrence—about twelve o'clock, after he came home from his work, he gave her a thrashing—I saw it through their window, which had no blind, and I saw her next day with a pair of black eyes and scratches on the side of her face—on one occasion, towards twelve o'clock, I heard him say he would do for her—on the Saturday night before this occurrence he came home about half-past eleven, and I
saw him push her with his hand; they were standing against the fireplace, and he sent her towards the left side of the kitchen, against the scullery door—I was lying on my bed with my little girl, and I saw this through the window—they were both strangers to me.
Cross-examined. I am at home all day—the woman never complained to me, she always kept her business to herself—I have seen the deceased drunk, sometimes twice a week—she was not quarrelsome—the thrashings I saw were very severe—she has had black eyes and a bruised mouth—I complained about this to the gentleman who collects the rents, and he said he would not let them remain—I told the Coroner's officer that the prisoner treated his wife most cruelly—I did not tell him that I knew nothing whatever about it.
The prisoner received an excellent character.
GUILTY—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character and the great provocation he received.
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, June 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
570. EDWARD BROWNING, alias BROPHY , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 20 yards of sheeting of Ada Louisa Blake, also to feloniously marrying Emmeline Broughton, his wife being alive.— Nine Months' Hard Labour on the Bigamy Indictment, after which Six Months' Hard Labour on the Larceny.
For the case of Henry Batchelor, tried this day, see Surrey Cases.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June 27th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MR. OVEREND Prosecuted, and MR. CRAWFORD Defended.
SIMPSON POLLOCK . I am a clothier, of 223, St. George Street, St. George's-in-the-East—I was acquainted with the prisoner in the year 1887—he was not employed by my son, he gave him shelter, and allowed him to sleep there till the commencement of August, 1888—I gave him notice to leave, after a conversation with my son—on Bank Holiday, 6th August, 1888, I received an anonymous letter; that was after the prisoner had left—I placed that letter in the hands of the police the same morning—I believe the detective has lost it—shortly after that I was engaged as a defendant in proceedings in the Chancery Division in the case of Roach v. Pollock—the prisoner made an affidavit in that case in favour of the plaintiff, and against me—after those proceedings had began, I received this letter of 8th February, 1889—I believe it to be in the prisoner's writing—I afterwards received these eight other letters (produced).
Cross-examined. The first letter I received I at once suspected it to be the prisoner; I told Inspector Corsby so—I have seen the prisoner write
on several occasions at the time he was at my son's place—I have not seen him write since—the writing in the letter is a little disguised (The letter was read—It contained the expressions, "I will do for you yet; you and your son. I will watch your place, and burn your shop to a cinder. I will ruin you for life. If I get you by yourself I will cut your head off," etc.) This is the envelope in which that letter came; this other letter was received on 18th April, I believe it to be the prisoner's writing, also these other letters (These contained similar expressions of threats against the witness, his son, and also insulting remarks upon his solicitor, Mr. Maxfield)—I summoned the prisoner for threatening me about 29th April, and my representative then mentioned the letters to the Magistrate—the detective had them in his possession, but he did not turn up till four o'clock, and the case was over a little after two, he had the letters in his pocket—apart from the letters, I had no reason to suspect the prisoner—I am not on bad terms with anybody—I have not had to prosecute several people for assaulting me or using threatening language—my son prosecuted some persons for breaking into his premises, and one got twelve months and the other eight months—they did not use any threats when they came out; they went to Australia a long time ago—I had to take proceedings once against a man named Gates, but I did not appear against him—Mr. Maxfield is my solicitor's managing clerk.
MORRIS POLLOCK . I am the son of the last witness—I carry on business as a clothier at 220, St. George Street, and also at 601, Holloway Road—in 1887 I gave the prisoner permission to sleep on my premises for a considerable time—I found it necessary to give him notice to go about a week before Bank Holiday in August, 1888—I asked my father to give the notice—in 1888 a burglary was attempted at my place, a window and some bars were broken, and some locks were broken; I employed the prisoner to purchase some new ones—I was with my father on Bank Holiday, and saw this letter; I did not see him receive it, we went with it to Leman Street Police-station, and gave it to Inspector Corsby.
Cross-examined. One door divides my father's place from mine—I prosecuted two Germans for breaking into my premises in May or June, 1887—I have been threatened by the prisoner; I am in fear of my life—I made no charge against the prisoner in reference to the burglary; he did not live there then—after that I had him in the house for safety.
WILLIAM ASHLEY MAXFIELD . I am a solicitor, and am managing clerk to Mr. Elderton—I had and have the conduct of the case of Roach v. Pollock in the Chancery Division, in which case the prosecutor is the defendant—on 30th April I attended at the Police-court, and applied for a warrant against the prisoner for assault, and using threatening language towards the prosecutor—I did not get a warrant, but got a summons, and the prisoner was bound over in his own recognisances in £10 to keep the peace towards Mr. Pollock for six months—on 29th April I was at Mr. Pollock's shop, 223, St. George Street—there was some row between Mr. Pollock and the prisoner; what it was I cannot say, but a few minutes afterwards I heard the prisoner say, "I will swear your life away; I have done it already; I don't mind your b——lawyer, Maxfield, tell him to pay his lodgings."
Cross-examined. I was before the Magistrate; I did not mention the row between the prisoner and Mr. Pollock; I was not asked; I was represented by counsel, and none of these letters were produced, but reference
was made to them by counsel; he said the detective had them, but he was not there—the prisoner did not make a charge of assault against the prosecutor.
CHARLES DOLDEN (Police Detective N). On 6th August, 1888, the prosecutor made a complaint to me, and brought a letter containing a threat to murder, and set fire to his place—I have lost it; I don't know how.
Cross-examined. I read it through—I have not seen it for six or seven months—I must have mislaid or destroyed it.
PETER LOPES . I am a hairdresser, at 72, Well Street, St. George's—Inspector Marshall called on me this month, and showed me this envelope with my address on it—I had seen the prisoner write it in my house in 1887 at my request—I have employed the prisoner to write for me, as I cannot write or read myself.
WILLIAM CORSBY (Police Inspector H). In August last the prosecutor made a communication to me, to the effect that he had received an anonymous threatening letter; he showed it me, I read it, and submitted it to my superintendent—on 25th May this year, the prisoner came to Leman Street Police-station and made a statement, I requested him to put it in writing—I saw him write and sign it; this is it—read, "A man named Sam came in the shop to-day and struck me on the head, and I feel the pain in it; 221, St. George Street"—I think he said he did not know the man's other name.
HENRY MARSHALL (Police Inspector). I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and on the same day saw him in Wells Street—I said, "What is your name?"—he said, "Burke"—I said, "I am an inspector of police, Marshall is my name, from Scotland Yard, "and pointing to the other inspector I said, "This is an inspector also; I hold a warrant for your apprehension for sending letters threatening to kill Mr. Pollock, and to burn down his place"—I produced the letters and said, "These are the ones you are charged with sending"—he said, "I know nothing about the letters, it is a conspiracy; that Mr. Maxfield must have written them; they have imitated my writing from something I wrote at Pollock's; they have done it between them"—I took him to Leman Street station, and read the warrant to him; he made no further reply, except that he gave his address as 3, Panton Rents, Ratcliff; he said he was living there with a woman named Golding—I said, "I shall have to go and search your room"—he said, "You will find no one at home; you will find the key of the room over the door"—I went to that address; I found the key where he told me—I searched the room, but only found a sheet of plain paper and the summons which has been alluded to—after that I called on the witness Lopes, and produced this envelope; it was also produced at the Police-court when the prisoner was charged—he had an opportunity of seeing it—he said that he wrote it.
Cross-examined. I arrested him on 28th May—he denied the charge—the paper I found in his room does not correspond with any of the letters.
GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I am an expert in handwriting, my offices are at 8, Red Lion Square—the documents produced have been placed in my hands—I have examined them, and compared them with the envelope written by the prisoner—I have observed some points of similarity between them—I believe the letters are all written in a disguised hand—I have written a report upon the matter (The witness read the report,
which entered into a minute detail of the similarities and peculiarities of the letters and envelope)—I believe the letters to have been written by the same person who wrote the envelope and the document produced by Inspector Marshall.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 27th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. MUIR Defended Saintmire.
CLEMENT SHEPHERD (City Policeman 946). On the 1st May, about a quarter-past four p. m., I was on plain clothes duty, and saw the two prisoners in New Broad Street; they entered an omnibus, and one sat on one side, and one on the other—I followed on foot to St. Paul's Station—when they got out together, and went to the Times Coffee House; they came out in twenty minutes, and went to Ludgate Circus, when they got into an omnibus and sat one on each side—I followed on foot to Charing Cross Station; they got out by the post office, crossed the street, stood a short time, and entered another omnibus running East; I followed on foot to Ludgate Circus; they got out by the King Loud public-house, crossed to Bridge Street, and entered a public-house; came out in ten minutes, and remained outside for some minutes—I spoke to Detective Holmes—the prisoners then went to Ludgate Circus and entered another omnibus running West; we followed them on foot to Charing Cross; they got out and crossed the street again, remained a few minutes, and entered another omnibus running East, which passed over Waterloo Bridge—several ladies got out at Waterloo Station, but the prisoners remained in and got out at London Road, crossed the road and entered a public-house; they came out in a few minutes, and entered another omnibus, which took them to Old Kent Road where they entered a tram-car, which took them to the Elephant and Castle; we both ran after the car; they got out and entered a public-house; came out in a few minutes and entered an omnibus running to the City, one sitting on each side—we got into that omnibus, got off at London Bridge, and followed it on foot to Liverpool Street, and when it stopped the prisoners got out, and then a lady said, "I have lost my purse; Green got out first—I said to Saintmire, "I am a police officer, I take you in custody for being concerned with another woman in stealing a purse;" she said, "I don't know anything about it, not me"—I took her to the station—she was carrying a bag.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. Four journeys had been made before I got on the front of the omnibus—I saw Saintmire hand a £5 note from her breast to Detective Holmes—he said, "You are going to be searched, if you like you can hand over what you have got"—she said she got It from her sister—I did not ask her sister's address; she gave her own address, 37, Sidney Street, and said she had lived there three weeks—I made inquiry there, and the landlady told me that Saintmire had a £5 note sent her by her sister, who kept a fish-shop at one time, but not then, and the prisoner said that she had been employed there—she said she was out that day looking for a new shop.
FREDERICK HOLMES (City Policeman 483). On the 1st May, about five o'clock, Shepherd spoke to me, and I saw the two prisoners conversing at Ludgate Circus—they moved to the bottom of Fleet Street, where the omnibuses stop, and got into one going West, in which were several ladies; they sat on opposite sides—I followed them to Charing Cross, where they both alighted—I followed them in another omnibus to the Elephant and Castle, where they got into another omnibus, and I got on top and rode to London Bridge, where I alighted and ran after it, and noticed that the prisoners had changed sides—when it got to Liverpool Street Green got out, followed by Saintmire, and walked quickly away—I caught hold of Green and found this purse in her left hand; it contained £1 18s. 11 3/4 d. and some papers—I said, "Is this your purse?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "lama police officer, if this is your purse of course you can tell me pretty nearly what is inside of it"—she made no answer—I said, "You will be charged with another woman with stealing a purse from a lady in an omnibus—she made no reply—I took her to the station, and again said, "If this is your purse you can tell me pretty nearly what is inside"—she said, "I may as well tell the truth; I was in the omnibus, I saw a lady pay her fare, and as she was putting her purse back it did not go into her pocket, but fell down on the seat by the side of her; after she left the omnibus I picked it up and was walking away with it"—Mrs. Robinson was in the omnibus when the prisoners got out—I said to the prisoners, "You are both going to be searched; if you like to produce what you have I will take it," and Saintmire produced a £5 note from her breast, and this purse and some duplicates—Green refused her address, Saintmire gave hers.
JANE ROBINSON . I am the wife of Antony Robinson, of 54, Chislehurst Road, Bromley—on May 1 I was in an omnibus going to Liverpool Street, and saw the prisoners there—Green sat opposite me, and then came over and sat by my side—I had paid my fare before she changed sides—I am sure I put my purse in my pocket on my right side—I missed it when I got to Liverpool Street—there was £1 18s. 11 3/4 d. and other things in it—this is it.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I saw Saintmire as well—she did not change sides, but she moved further up.
Green's Defence. "When I got into the omnibus it was very hot, and I went to sleep; two people got out, I woke up and went across, and saw the purse lying there. The lady passed me and got out first, and I picked the purse up and got out; I did not run away. "(The prisoners received good characters.) GREEN
GUILTY . SAINTMIRE
NOT GUILTY .
ROBERT SAGER (City Detective Sergeant). On 2nd May, about 6. 45, I saw the prisoners at Broad Street Station—they stood about for some time, and then got into an omnibus going towards the Mansion House—I followed them, and they got out—I spoke to Shepherd and went after the omnibus; the conductor told me something and I went back and found Shepherd in King William Street, and saw the two prisoners standing over the grating of 77, Lombard Street, standing face to face, and I noticed some papers—a gentleman went into No. 77, and
they moved to No. 80, and stood over another grating, and after a few minutes went towards Cornhill, where they got into an omnibus going to London Bridge—I went back to 77, Lombard Street, and on the wirework inside the grating I found this second-class railway ticket, and these two bills crumpled up—we then went to the grating of No. 80, and on a window-ledge inside the grating we found this purse empty and at the bottom of the area a number of slips of yellow paper, which I afterwards found were pawn-tickets for a pair of diamond earrings—about 8. 30 I went to Liverpool Street and saw the conductor I had spoken to before, and in consequence of what he told me I went to Mrs. Lever's and identified the articles.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I think I had seen Saintmire once before—I saw her next at a quarter to four on the day they were arrested, in company with Green—I was with Shepherd when he started from Liverpool Street at a quarter to seven—I have not made inquiries as to where Saintmire was that night—I have not seen Mr. Burrell—I was close to her when she got into the omnibus—I knew Green before, better than Saintmire—I kept about ten yards behind the omnibus the whole length of Broad Street.
Re-examined. I have no doubt as to Saintmire.
Cross-examined. Sager spoke to me in front of the Mansion House—I was ten yards from them—I knew Green before; but not Saintmire.
JANE LEVER . I am a widow, and live at Stratford—this purse and two bills and pawn-ticket are mine—on the evening of May 2nd I went to the Mansion House Station in an omnibus, and before I got out I missed my purse, containing two or three shillings, from my right pocket—Green sat by my side in the omnibus—I did not notice Saintmire.
Green's Defence. "I was not out that day. Because I was taken on the other they have brought this against me, but I know nothing about it. "ROBERT SAGER (Re-examined). I did not arrest them on May 2nd, because when I spoke to the conductor he spoke to the passengers, and they said they had lost nothing, but he communicated with a lady, and I got her address, and found she had lost her purse.
GREEN GUILTY *— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
SAINTMIRE NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. BEVAN Defended. GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury and Prosecutor. — Four Months' Imprisonment.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
CHARLES JELLICO . I am a clerk, of Allerton Lane, Stoke Newington—on 21st April, about 12. 30 midnight, I was in Upper Street, Islington, wearing a gold watch and chain—I had looked at my watch shortly before—I got into a cab and found my chain hanging down; my watch was gone—I informed the police at once—on 27th April I saw an account
in a paper, went to Whitehall Place, saw Tonbridge, and described my watch—this is it; it is worth £25; it has my monogram on the back; the bow is gone.
Cross-examined. I have had it about two years—I can bring the warranty I had with it.
Re-examined. I do not know that anybody came up to me—I was by myself in the cab.
THOMAS BENJAMIN MUGGERIDGE . I live at Crystal Palace Park Road—on 17th April I was in the Dyke Road, Brighton, about ten p. m.; a man asked me for a light; I gave him one, and he snatched my watch and chain and walked away—I am very lame, and was alarmed, and glad to get away—this is my watch; I have had it more than ten years; I got it from Marsh, of Dorking; it has my coat of arms and motto on it; it cost me £30—the maker's name (Marsh) has now been taken away, and the name of Dent put on instead.
Cross-examined. I made no complaint to the police at the time—it has my crest and motto on it now—the alteration is inside.
THOMAS MARSH . I am a watchmaker, of High Street, Dorking—I sold this watch to Mr. Muggeridge in 1867, the number was 4685, and my name was on the top plate—the name of Dent has now been put there, and the number altered to 19790—my name and the number appears on another part.
Cross-examined. The number on the face has not been altered, nor my name—I cannot see any sign of the number inside being obliterated, it is taken so clean off.
GUSTAVE MYER . I am a watch importer, of 11, Hatton Garden—I travel with watches—on 28th March I was staying at the Clarence Hotel, Manchester, with a case containing between 1,200 and 1,500 watches—I left it locked in my room that night, and the room door was locked and I had the key—I went to the room next morning and found the door still locked—I went in and found both my stock-cases broken open and watches gone, value £800 or £900—I informed the police, but heard nothing more till after the prisoner's place was searched—I then went to Old Street Station, and some gold watches were shown to me—I identified eight of them—three of them have my firm's initials on them, and I know five by the numbers.
Cross-examined. Five hundred or six hundred watches had the firm's initials on them—only twelve watches like this one (produced) have been imported in the course of the year—I identify this as one of our make, and as one I took to Manchester—I have the invoice in my pocket with the numbers of five of them.
ALEXANDER ANTONY BELFONTAINE . I am a watchmaker, of Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell—on 18th April I fastened my place up and left it safe about 12. 30, and about 7 a. m. I found it had been broken open with a crowbar and centrebit, and watches, chains, and other articles stolen, value about £40—I informed the police, and on 26th April was invited to Old Street Police-station, where I identified this watch (produced) as one of those stolen from my place.
Cross-examined. I identify it by the old-fashioned bow, by the general appearance, and by the back being broken, and two pins being out of the dial—it was brought to me to repair.
Re-examined. It is not in the same state now, it had the dome on.
C. JELLICO (Re-examined). When I saw the watch the second time it was all right, but the bow was gone.
GEORGE HAYWARD . I am a watchmaker, of Charles Street, Hatton Garden—on the night of January 18th my shop was broken into; a panel had been cut out; and when I came next morning I found a policeman in possession of the premises—I missed some drum clocks and clock movements—after the prisoner's place was searched I identified this clock by a broken square at the back of it.
Cross-examined. There is no private mark on it—I must have taken it in exchange—it is a very ordinary clock.
ALFRED HINE . I live at Maryport, Sunderland—on 19th January, about 11. 30 a. m., I was in Pentonville Road—two women spoke to me—a man came up; I was knocked down—the women held my arms, and I was robbed of my gold watch, value £18—the police afterwards showed me the works of my watch—I had left it at Frodsham's to be cleaned in August, 1887—the works bore the name of John Walker.
Cross-examined. I identify it by the maker's name and number, which I got from Frodsham's, and by its general appearance.
GEORGE HENRY MASON . I am assistant to Messrs. Frodsham, of Gracechurch Street—on 21st August, 1887, Mr. Hine left a watch to be cleaned and repaired—I took the particulars, "A gold-faced full plate lever, by Walker, 49736"—I took the number from the top plate—I cannot identify these works, but on the top where there was the number 49736 I now find No. 49738—I cannot say whether the number on the top plate has been changed or a fresh plate put on.
Cross-examined. I find no trace of the alteration—the numbers on the top plate and on the pillar plate are occasionally different.
JOHN ROBINSON (Dectective Sergeant G). From information I received from Inspectors Peel and Tonbridge, on 26th April, Durrant and I went to the prisoner's premises, 1, President Street, St. Luke's, which is a private house; I said to him, "We are going to take you in custody for receiving a gold watch, stolen from a gentleman in Pentonville Road, on the 19th January last"—he made no reply—on the first floor front and back rooms we found a large quantity of watches and watch movements; I left a constable there, and took the prisoner to Old Street station—I returned to the house about ten o'clock, and made a minute search—we took up the carpet and floor-cloth on the first floor landing, and examined the boards, one of which was a little loose; I took it up, searched under the adjoining boards, and found this cashbox (produced); the key was in it; I opened it, and found a number of gold and silver watches,. and among them the eight gold watches identified by Mr. Myer, the one identified by Mr. Jellico, with the bow broken; the one identified by Mr. Belfontaine, and a number of others; also the case of the watch identified by Mr. Muggeridge, and the top plate, but not the works—I also found some gold folders—I searched other parts of the house; there were no books.
Cross-examined. I searched the house from top to bottom—I found no safe—the box was crammed full of watches—there were ten gold ones and seven silver ones.
WILLIAM DURRANT (Detective Officer G). On 28th January I searched the prisoner's premises—I did not find the place on the landing—I was present when he was arrested on April 16th, and in the room used as a
bedroom and workshop I found a quantity of crucibles and melting-pots, and a watch with "Benson, Ludgate Hill," on it, and another with part of the plate filed away, also stoves, acids, and stamps for stamping the number on watches—I saw a silver watch there with the number 49736, which agrees with the number on the works of Mr. Hine's watch—I spoke to him about Mr. Hine's watch—he said, "I have got that to clean and re-gild"—I asked him for his books—he said he kept none.
Cross-examined. With reference to many of the watches, he said, "I have got them to clean and re-gild."
WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector). I had the conduct of these proceedings—I received information, and the constables searched on 28th January, but I took no steps—when they searched again on April 16th I had this paper (produced) circulated—I then said to the prisoner, "We have had a conversation with Lyster, Clark, and Burdett (See Vol. CIX., p. 522); any remark you make may be used against you"—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. Those men are undergoing penal servitude for life.
Cross-examined. I found watch 49736 there on the 26th, and another watch without a number—I asked him how he came by them—he said, "I have got them to clean and regild"—I said, "Who for?"—he said, "I refuse to mention any name; "I found two small gold watches and a gilt-plated case, and asked him about them—he said, "To tell you the truth, I bought them in Dune's Place; you can buy anything you like on Sunday mornings; the small lady's watch is my daughter's, the other watch is my son's"—I took possession of those things in January; no claim was made, only for Mr. Hine's watch, which had been stolen.
GUILTY . He then Pleaded Guilty to a conviction at this Court on 27th January, 1871— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. (The Grand Jury made a presentment commending the conduct of the officers, in which the Recorder concurred.)
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
ERNEST ALBERT ATKINS . I keep the Town of Ramsgate public-house, Wapping—on 9th of June, about 3. 15 a. m., I was in bed; my wife spoke to me; I got up, ran out into the street, and saw Crawley running away—I turned round, ran, then caught hold of him, and called "Help,"—the constable on the beat came to my assistance, and followed Crawley—my house was fastened up safely at 12 o'clock—I found the drawers in bar open, and some things taken out of the bar parlour; the tap-room window looking into the yard was broken, and the top bolt was broken off the door, and the top panel broken away; that is an inner door—I saw a coat, jacket, waistcoat, and some tobacco at the station.
Cross-examined by Shea. You were coming up from the river; it is a public thoroughfare.
running across the road—Mr. Atkins called for help, and went after Crawley, who was stopped by two constables.
ALFRED METCALFE (Thames Policeman 64). On 9th June, about 3. 30 a. m., I heard cries of "Police," and saw Mr. Atkins holding Shea—he said, "That man and another have broken into my house"—I found a coat, waistcoat, and jacket on a chair in the bar parlour, which had been moved from upstairs—I took Shea—he said he had just come across the water in a boat; he afterwards said he was down a passage talking to a female.
ALBERT MOORE . On June 9th I saw Crawley running in Bird Street; Mr. Atkins shouted, and I ran through an alley, and caught Crawley, and said, "What have you been up to?"—he said, "Nothing, "and began to struggle, and struck me in my chest; Buckley came to my assistance—Crawley said, "lam b——if I will go"—I took him to the station, and found on him this knife with paint on it, corresponding with the paint on the window, and it corresponds with the marks on the door—I found this hammer—the tap-room door had been forced—this piece of glass came from the top of the wall where it was put to prevent people getting over.
Cross-examined by Crawley. Bird Street is 200 yards from the house, not a quarter of a mile.
JAMES BUCKLEY (Policeman H 311). I saw Moore stop Crawley—I assisted in taking him to the station; he struggled at first, but after I took hold of him he went quietly—I found this knife in his waistcoat pocket.
CHARLES KING (Thames Policeman 80). I received the prisoners at the station at a quarter to four, and on removing them from a cell I found these two screws of tobacco and three straps, which Mr. Atkins identified.
Cross-examined by Shea. You were searched, but not before you were taken from the charge-room.
Cross-examined by Crawley. Mr. Atkins said that it was the same kind of tobacco as he sold, but he could not swear to it.
Crawley's Defence. I was going to the waterside, as cattle boats come there; I saw this row, and saw the watchman running after me; two policemen met me, and asked me what was the matter; I said I did not know.
Shea's Defence. I had been to the Surrey Commercial Docks, and took a sculler and came ashore, and was conversing with a female about twenty minutes. I saw the prosecutor in his shirt; he seized me. I walked quietly to the station-house. Anybody who was passing would have been taken Like me. The prosecutor was excited.
CRAWLEY** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of burglary at this Court on May 3rd, 1386.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. SHEA— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAM ELLISTON . I am a labourer, of 132, Templeton Road, Stamford Hill—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—on 7th June we had both been drinking together, and I went home and saw a little bit of a scuffle between him and his wife because there was no hot water—he did not strike her—I hit him twice, and he hit me—I knocked him down, and
he then hit me in my face with something; I do not know what—a doctor sewed my face up—I do not wish to press the charge—I admit I was to blame as well as he was—I have got a letter from him to the Judge—I went to the hospital; I was detained there for a week.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw a teapot and a razor in your hand—you do not bear malice to me; you have always done me more good than harm.
ALEXANDER HARKNESS , F. E. C. S. The prosecutor was brought to my surgery with a cut extending from the side of his nose on the left side as far as his ear, and going through the lobe of the ear; it was deep in the centre; a razor would "cause it, but I do not think a tin bottle would—it was dangerous, but it has quite healed now—he will have a scar all his life.
Prisoner's Defence. I went home and was going to shave—I was having a few words with my mistress because there was not enough hot water for my shaving and he came in, and it was done by pure accident.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the provocation he received. — Two Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 27th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant,
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
JONATHAN BENSON KNEEN . I live at 41, Theobald's Road, and am a printer's reader on the Morning Post—I return home very early in the morning—at a quarter to five a. m., on 18th May, J was coming through Sardinia Street, and at the corner of Sardinia Street and Sardinia Place I was suddenly attacked from behind—a hand was put over my mouth, and my pockets were rifled—I had £2 in gold in one pocket of my trousers and a knife and a bunch of keys in the other—I missed them afterwards—I had no idea anyone was near me till I was attacked—I struggled—as soon as I got my mouth clear I shouted police; and the men ran away as hard as they could round the corner—I saw them go down Little Wyld Street—I told a policeman, and we followed them—I could not keep up with the police—I went to the station, where I was shown some persons; I picked out Roach and Cahill from among them.
Cross-examined by Cahill. I would not swear you were one of the men, I only caught sight of you sideways when you ran away.
Cross-examined by Roach. You had your hands in my pocket—I saw you full face.
Cross-examined by Jones. I do not identify you.
Re-examined. I don't swear to Cahill, but I picked him out.
JOHN PENNINGTON . I am a delivery foreman, of 11, Little Wyld Street, which connects Sardinia Place and Great Wyld Street—about 4. 45 a. m., on 18th May, I was lying awake in bed on the second floor—it is about 40 yards from the corner of Sardinia Street and Sardinia
Place—I heard a rumbling, or running, or scuffling—I got up immediately, and looked out, and saw three men running from Sardinia Place; they stopped opposite my house for a second or two, and walked hurriedly into Great Wyld Street—then a policeman and the prosecutor came up—I spoke to them—Kneen went one way, and the policeman ran up the street—I did not recognise any of the faces.
HENRY RICHARDSON (Policeman E 128). I was on duty in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and heard a man calling out for the police—I ran towards Sardinia Street, and when I got to the corner of Sardinia Place I saw Kneen, who appeared as if he had been pulled about—he complained to me, and I ran through Sardinia Place into Little Wyld Street—Pennington spoke to me, and I then ran up into Great Wyld Street, where I saw Cahill, Roach, and another man—I could not be certain of the third one—I have known Cahill and Roach for four years—at the top of Great Wyld Street and Queen Street Ireland joined me—the three men were not going very fast, but very hurriedly—I followed them fully half a mile, and eventually overtook them at the corner of Betterton Street, Drury Lane—I took Cahill and Jones, and Ireland took Roach—I told them I should take them for robbing a man in Sardinia Street—Cahill and Jones said, "You have made a mistake"—I searched them at the station, and found 7 1/2 d. on Cahill, 1d. on Roach, nothing on Jones.
JOHN IRELAND (Policeman E 183). On this morning I was on a fixed point in Great Queen Street I saw the three prisoners running from Great Wyld Street, at a sharp pace—they passed me all together, and came into Drury Lane—Richardson came up about thirty yards behind—he spoke to me, and I joined him in following the men—we overtook them outside the Sun public-house at, the corner of Betterton Street—I took Roach, and told him the charge; he said, "I know nothing about it"—on the way to the station, at the corner of Long Acre, Roach called on three women, and they ran up, and there was a regular tussle; I and Roach nearly fell to the ground, and a woman clung to Roach—I told him it was no use struggling, and he went quietly then—when that took place Roach could have passed anything he had to one of the women—at that time in the morning there are few people about; I saw no other men in the neighbournood.
Cross-examined by Roach. You did not ask me what I was taking you for.
Cross-examined by Jones. I knew you when you worked for Varnol, a coal merchant in Clare Market.
Jones' statement before the Magistrate: "Iwas going by myself in Drury Lane; the other men are strangers to me."
Witnesses for the Defence.
Cross-examined. Parker Street is not far from Sardinia Street.
Cahill, in his defence, said he was waiting at the corner of Betterton Street for a coffee-shop to open, when the other two prisoners came up and then the constable.
Roach said he was waiting at the corner of Betterton Street to get a half pint of beer when the constable came.
CAHILL and JONES NOT GUILTY .
ROACH GUILTY **. A large number of convictions were proved against him. Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
HENRY GWILLIAM . I am a butcher, of 4, Dollar Street, Cirencester—I know the prisoner well—he is a son of Thomas Hinder, a gamekeeper—on 3rd September, 1877, I was present at his marriage with Fanny Sterry at the Baptist Chapel, Cirencester—this is a correct copy of the marriage certificate—I was a witness to it—I saw him sign the book—I invited them to a wedding breakfast at my house—he lived with her about two years after the marriage, and two children were born; then the prisoner disappeared—he was brought back and committed to prison for two months for deserting his wife and children—after that I lost sight of him for many years.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not make arrangements for the wedding at the instigation of the Sterry family—I am not aware you entered into the ceremony under protest—you asked me to accompany you to the church—I signed the register in my proper place and you in yours—you lived in the same house with Fanny Sterry afterwards—she married again after she thought you were dead—you advertised your death—I saw her last Whit Monday—you were legally married of your own free will, according to the Nonconformist ceremony—I did not know that the ceremony went on through threats Sterry made to you—he tried to persuade his daughter not to have you—I did not know your father told Sterry that as you were only seventeen years old the marriage should not be gone on with—you said you had no change, and borrowed the money of the girl to pay the expenses.
JANE BURNS . I live at 12, Queen's Road, Canning Town—in 1880 I lived at Wargrave, Henley-on-Thames—I knew the prisoner about twelve months before I married him—he went by the name of Brinsden, and described himself as a bachelor—I married him at Wargrave Parish Church on 16th July, 1881—this is the certificate—he lived with me for about two years—I have had three children by him—he went away with a young woman who had been staying in our house, and who went to service at Chislehurst—I found him living at Chislehurst with this woman, Jane Brown—he and I knew she was married—he then said I was his wife, and where he was I should be, and I made it up and lived with him for about twelve months—Mrs. Brown had to go—he left me again—I found him at Ealing with the same woman—he lived with me for about six months and left me again—I found him at Aldershot, and lived with him about three weeks, and he left me, and I saw no more of him till he was at Arbour Square, where I gave him in custody—at one time after he left me I saw his death in the paper; I
went to the printing-office of the paper and recognised his writing in the letter about his death—he sent me these letters, in which he represented himself as a detective looking for my husband—when I met him after his reported death I asked him if he knew me, and he said no, he had never seen me in his life—I have no doubt about him; I know him among a thousand—he was very good to me while he was with me—I gave him in custody because he left me.
Cross-examined. I had three children by you—the first was not by my father—the officer did not persuade me to come to Court—I do not know Charley Butler—you did not pass him and me under trees by the gate at the corner of some fields—a young fellow came in soldier's clothes once to see you; I did not go away with him for two or three days from Aldershot—I did not go into service at Turnham Green; I did not steal earrings there—I have never been to a brothel.
STEPHEN WHITE (Police Sergeant H). I arrested the prisoner on a warrant on 1st April, on a charge of threats used to Miss Lord in August; he was brought before a Magistrate 2 remanded, and he absconded from his bail—I traced him to Malmesbury in Wiltshire, and arrested him on the warrant with regard to the threats to Miss Lord—while investigating that charge other matters came to light—he was taken before the Magistrate, and the first matter was dealt with, and he was brought up on a writ of habeas corpus, and charged with bigamy with Jane Burns—he said, "She is not my wife."
Cross-examined. I traced you by letters—I did not arrest you—you did not say Fanny Sterry was not your wife, you said Jane Burns was not.
WILLIAM PARSONS . I am Assistant Warder at Holloway Prison—the prisoner is in custody of the Governor of that gaol, undergoing sentence on another charge—I produce him on a writ of habeas corpus to answer this charge.
Cross-examined. I took no notice of questions at the Police-court—you said in the cab that Sterry was not your wife, but Burns was.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he married Sterry under the threats of her father, she being then enceinte by another man; that Gwilliam seized his hand in the vestry and made him sign the register; that he had never lived with her, and refused to acknowledge her, and that a solicitor had told him that under those circumstancees he was not legally married.
GUILTY . The police stated that the prisoner was engaged and about to be married to two other girls.
Five Years' Penal Servitude. The Court and Jury commended the conduct of Sergeant White.
OLD COURT.—Friday, June 28th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and TICKELL Prosecuted. The prisoner defended
GUILTY . He further
PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted at Exeter of a like offence on 1st November, 1879, when he was sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 28th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SIMMONDS Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended Crow.
ALFRED MAYO . I live at 9, Langton Street, St. Luke's—on 20th June, about 10. 40, I was in Three Herring Court, with Mary Ann Fisher, who I keep company with; it is a long court, and rather narrow; there is a lamp in the middle and one at the end—Brewer came up as I was wishing her good-night, and pushed violently against both of us—I asked him why he did that—he moved a few paces up the court and turned back, and came at me as if he would strike me, and I knocked him down—he got up again and continued to struggle, and we both fell, he on the top of me, and I felt something very sharp all over my head and near my eye, and I was smothered in blood, but I did not lose sight of him—I got up and saw Crow and Mr. Fisher fighting—I went to the hospital—this patch over my eye is in consequence of the wounds—I have seen Brewer, but I do not know either of them—I saw something protruding from Brewer's hand.
Cross-examined by Brewer. I should not take it to be a pipe; a pipe would not go through my coat and waistcoat.
MARY ANN FISHER . I am single, and live with my father at 9, Three Herring Court—on 3rd June, about 10. 45, on going up the court, Brewer pushed me against the wall—I turned round, and saw him strike Mayo with his fist clenched—they fought, and went to the ground—I saw them fighting on the ground; Brewer was punching Mayo, and I saw a knife in his hand; it looked like a penknife, but I only saw the blade—I then saw Crow punching Mayo while he was on the ground—my father came out and pulled Crow off of Mayo—when Brewer got off Mayo, Mayo's face looked like a bit of liver, with thick congealed blood—I took him to the hospital.
Cross-examined by Mr. PURCELL. Crow came up, and said he was going to part them, but he could not part them by punching Mayo—my father pulled Crow off Mayo, and Crow and my father fought together—Crow lives a few houses up—I saw nothing in Crow's hand.
JOHN FISHER . I live at 9, Three Herring Court—on 3rd June, at 10. 45 p. m., I was at home and heard my daughter scream for help—I looked out at the window and saw Brewer on the top of Mayo—I ran out into the court, and he was still on the top of him, and both prisoners were punching him—there was a lamp right opposite—I pulled Crow away, and said, "Come on, you get away"—he said, "I am parting them"—I said, "You are punching him as hard as you can"—Crow went at him again, and I pulled him away again; and he rushed at me, and we fought—I did not see anything in either of their hands.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I told the Magistrate that he did it twice.
ELLEN FISHER . I saw Brewer go up to my sister and push her against the wall—I turned round, and they fought and fell; they got up and they fell again, and I saw Brewer punching Mayo with a knife—Crow ran down from the other end of the court, and went up to Mayo, who was
still on the ground; my father came up and pulled him off Mayo—I went for a constable, who arrested Brewer.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When Crow came up he ran to where Mayo and Brewer were lying on the ground, and my father seized Crow and pulled him off.
JOHN FISHER . I saw Brewer on top of Mayo, and saw Crow run from the top of the court with a knife, and they were both over Mayo, punching him—I did not see what became of the knife—my father came up and pulled Crow away.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. My father had a struggle with Crow, and I went to look for a policeman; when I came back Crow was not there.
RICHARD CULLINGWORTH (City Policeman 160). On 3rd June, about 10. 45, I was called to Three Herring Court, and found Mayo bleeding profusely from the left side of his face; the blood on his face was very thick, and in a congealed state—on arriving at the entrance of the court I saw Crow in the midst of a crowd without coat, waistcoat, or hat—I went up the court, and met Brewer coming from his house without a coat—I told him he would be charged with cutting and wounding a man on his face, and I should take him to the station—he said, "All right, I will go with you"—on the way he said, "This is a got-up job, they have been waiting for this; it is a faction fight, this is one of Mr. Charley's doing; they have been waiting for me for some time"—he went into a long statement about quarrels which had taken place between the two families—when the charge was read he said, "I know nothing about it; I never stabbed anybody in my life"—he was drunk—I saw a cut on one of the fingers of his right hand—no-knife was found on him.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Crow appeared sober—I did not take him in custody.
EDWARD EDWIN GARDINER (City Policeman 114). On 4th June I was on duty; John Fisher called me, and Crow was given into my custody, and charged with being concerned in assaulting a man—he said, "I was there trying to part them"—Mr. Fisher came up and said, "He is wanted for stabbing the man"—Crow said, "I did not stab him; it was a Mr. Brewer"—I took him to the station; he said nothing in answer to the charge.
CHARLES YOUNG , M. D. I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on the night of June 3rd Mayo was brought in, bleeding profusely from an incised wound over his left ear, several punctured wounds on his scalp, and one at the external angle of his left eye—I afterwards found three punctured wounds on the back of his left forearm, and one on his chest over the region of his heart—I think they had been made through his clothes—the punctured wounds were superficial, but that on his ear was deeper, and it went in and came out again about three quarters of an inch beyond—he was in the hospital for a fortnight, and I believe he has been there once or twice since.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM BREWER . The prisoner is my father—I remember the row in the court—a young woman pushed against my father—I saw Mayo knock against a barrow, and saw him and my father fighting on the ground—I saw Crow on top of Mayo; he pushed my father off Mayo—I did not see any blood.
JOHN WILLIAM CASEY . I am an electro-gilder, of 2, Three Herring Court—on 3rd June I was in my room playing at cards with a friend; Crow was there in his shirt sleeves; he said, "Good night," and went upstairs to bed—I heard screams of murder in the court, and Crow came down and rushed out—he had no knife in his hand—he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. I know all the parties—they are continually quarrelling—there is ill blood between them.
Brewer, in his defence, stated that the Fisher family had always shown enmity to him; that they had a fight on September 5th, and he thought it was all over, but after that Fisher's wife struck him on his head with a poker, for which she was sentenced to two months' hard labour at Guildhall, and was discharged on November 5th; and shortly after she came home she began to row and called his children bastards, and water was thrown on them from the Fisher's first floor window; that Mayo was lying in wait for him at midnight, and one night a glass bottle was thrown, which struck him on his back, and the family were the dread of the court; that on June 3rd, as he was coming home from work, Mayo struck him and knocked him down, and that he had nothing in his hand but a pipe.
BREWER— GUILTY** of Unlawfully Wounding — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
CROW— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
583. ANDREW ROSS ROBERTSON (60) was indicted with M. Bowman, not in custody, for unlawfully obtaining 6s. 6d., 10s., and 12s. 6d. by false pretences; other counts for conspiring to defraud Maria Barnett and others. Upon the opening of MR. FULTON, for the Prosecution, the RECORDER considered that there was no case to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KITTLE and MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.
SYLVANUS WELCH . I am manager for the General Cycle Supply Company's branch offices, 182, Stoke Newington Road—on 17th May the prisoner came and said, "I want to hire a tricycle"—I showed him one—he said, "That is not good enough, "and chose one of the best in the place—I said I could not let him have that, as he was a stranger to me—I asked his name and address—he said, "Richardson, 27, Amherst Road"—I referred to the Directory, and found a different name, and told him so—he said, "No, my name is not there; I lodge there; the lady's name is Mrs. Cripps, "which was right by the Directory—I had not mentioned her name—I asked him to leave 10s. deposit, he said; "Ihave only a few shillings, and those I want"—I said, "Will you leave your watch?" he said, "I have not got one, I have got a cheque for £1 10s. 6d., will that do?"—I looked at it, and agreed to take it, and allowed him to take the machine away for a few hours and as he did not return I went at eleven o'clock
to the address he gave, and Mr. Cripps spoke to me—I next saw the prisoner at the Police-court about a fortnight afterwards, and pointed him out from eight or nine others—I got the machine back from Mr. Orton—it is worth £17.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The cheque was not endorsed—you did not give me your Christian name—when I saw you again, I said, "That is the man, I believe;" you were then close shaved, and had clean clothes, and you looked a little different, but I can swear to you—through the alteration in your appearance I did not like to convict a man who might be innocent—I cannot exactly describe the man, but he was light.
HENRY CHARLES ORTON . I keep stores at Birkbeck Road, Dalston—on 11th May I put an advertisement in the Exchange and Mart that I had a bicycle to dispose of, and would take cash, or exchange for a tricycle, and between twelve and one on the day the advertisement appeared the prisoner came and asked to look at the bicycle, as he had a tricycle to dispose of—I showed it to him, and said, "I will come and look at your tricycle"—he said, "I am coming for a drive round in the afternoon and will bring it"—he arrived with it between three and four o'clock—I got Mr. Snow to see if it was in good condition—he valued it at £12, and I was asking £9 for my bicycle—he said, "You give me your bicycle and £3 cash"—I said, "I am a man of few words; I will give you £2 and the bicycle"—he said, "Now, think, can't you give more than that; I will split the difference with you; give me £2 10s. and your bicycle"—I said, "I will give you £2 5s. and the bicycle"—he accepted that—he said, "To show you that it is all fair and above board I will show you my receipt"—it was a printed memorandum for £10 10s. for a tricycle, with a receipt, and I saw "Upper Street, Islington, "on it—I have identified the paper since, and saw "St. George's Machine Company "on it—I gave him two sovereigns and silver—he said, "If there is anything the matter with it I shall bring it back to you"—a screw was taken out of the mud-guard, and I said, "If you will come next door to Mr. Snow he shall put it right for you, "but Mr. Snow said he should have to take the wheel off, and the prisoner said, "Never mind"—receipts passed between us—I heard something a few days afterwards, went to Dalston Police-station, and took the number of the tricycle and the receipt, and, acting under Sergeant Hearn's instructions, I advertised in the Exchange and Mart: "Wanted, a patent safety bicycle, cheap"—that was a decoy—Mr. Trigg took it up for me, and about a fortnight afterwards he sent for me, and showed me some writing which he alleges to be the prisoner's, and the letter tallied with the receipt I had from the prisoner—Mr. Trigg had made an appointment to meet the prisoner that evening at 7, St. George's Terrace, and I met Sergeants Hearn and Brockwell there—I was put out of sight, and Mr. Trigg went with the prisoner alone to the back of 160, Barnsbury Road—Sergeant Hearn fetched me, and I saw the prisoner about the centre of the road; Sergeant Hearn had him, and he beckoned to me and said, "Is this the man?"—there was an unusual pallor of his complexion, but I said he was the man—I took the bicycle to the station; I have no doubt about it—when I got there the prisoner's colour had come back, and I had no doubt about him—I know the bicycle by a great number of things; first, there is a screw out, and the name of
Reynolds, of Manchester, is on it—the prisoner gave his name James Ford—I sent the tricycle back to Mr. Welch.
Cross-examined. I have the screw of the machine—I do not know whether there is a number on it; I had it a very short time—I believe you had a watch and chain; you had a light check or tweed suit different to what you have now.
Re-examined. I saw the paper before the Magistrate, and recognised it—the sergeant placed each paper before me one after the other.
By the COURT. The receipt which I gave to the person who took my bicycle was found on the prisoner.
JOHN FREDERICK MADDISON . I trade with others as the St. George's Machine Company, 256, Upper Street, Islington—I have heard Orton's evidence about a receipt bearing that address—I have never given any receipt to the prisoner—I don't know him—the receipt is on one of our bill-heads, but it is not the writing of any member of my firm.
MATTHEW TRIGG . I am a bicycle maker, of Islington—I prepared an advertisement for Mr. Orton for the Exchange and Mart, and authorised him to use my address—it appeared on, I think, May 25th—the prisoner called there when I was out—I saw him at last, and he said he came in answer to the advertisement, "Wanted, a safety bicycle"—he said he had one of the kind, and should I like to see it—I said that I had had many applications, and asked him the price—he said, "You would not grumble at £6"—I said, "I do not mind the price provided the machine is what I like"—he asked if I could come at 6. 30 that evening—I said yes—I then went to Mr. Orton's house, and left word for him to come to me immediately; he came at 3. 30, and came again with the detectives at six o'clock—we went to St. George's Terrace, Liverpool Road, Islington, where the prisoner gave his address in writing, and when I saw the writing I was confident I had got the man, as it corresponded exactly with the receipt he gave—I went there at 6. 30, and he said, "The machine is not here, it is a little way off, I will take you there"—he took me to a milk yard in Cloudesley Street, where there is a small bicycle shed, and showed me the bicycle, which was identical with Mr. Orton's written description—I asked him to let me try it; and while he was getting it out I gave a hint to the detectives, and they came up.
Cross-examined. I did not see you when you called at my house on the Wednesday, but about ten minutes before you went there I saw you with another man; he was riding the machine, and you were walking, and I asked you if anything was the matter with it, and I would put it right; I little thought I was speaking to the man who had got the machine; the lamp was off, which was a very common one; it is very unusual to have so common a lamp on such a machine—I identified both the man and the machine.
EDWARD HEARN (City Police Sergeant.) On May 31, about 6. 45, I was with Sergeant Brockwell, and saw the prisoner at the back of Barnsbury Road showing a bicycle to Mr. Trigg—I went up and told him I was a police officer, and asked him if it was his machine—he said, "Why?"—I said, "Because it is stolen"—Mr. Orton came up and said, "I think that is the man, and that is my machine"—I told the prisoner I should take him for stealing it and another from Stoke Newington on 17th May—he made no reply—on the way to the station he became very violent,
and struck me a violent blow on my left eye, and took this spanner from his pocket, and was about to strike me again; I called Sergeant Brockwell, and with great difficulty we got him to the station—we afterwards took him to Stoke Newington, where he was placed with eight others, and "Welch identified him.
Cross-examined. Mr. Orton said, "I think he is the man," and if he had not been certain about the machine I should not have taken you.
THOMAS BROCKWELL (Police Sergeant). I was with Sergeant Hearn, and corroborate what he has said—I heard him call out, looked back, and saw him struggling with the prisoner, who was about to strike him again, but I knocked the spanner out of his hand—I found on him this gold watch and chain, some letters, pawn tickets, and two receipts.
Prisoner's Defence. I was in the news-rooms, and wrote a letter to some one I did not know, and the machine was brought to my lodging the following night, and I paid £4 10s. for it. I was under the impression that the receipt was on me when I was arrested; he also handed me the receipt which was found on me. One witness who came and identified me said, "I believe," and the other, "I think he is the man. "There is nothing in the machine to swear to except the screw being out; there was a name on it when I bought it, but I nave re-varnished it. If I was let out I might be able to find the man I bought it of, and prove my innocence. No light clothes were found at my lodging. I never tendered the cheque, or had it in my hand.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
There were several similar indictments against him.
MR. SALTER Prosecuted, and the Prisoner was Defended by Counsel.
JAMES GRUNDY . I am a dealer in cotton waste at Chorley, Lancashire—Mr. Greenhill was my solicitor last year, and the prisoner as his clerk came to me at Chorley on November 1st—I had advanced money on mortgage on a house at Brockley Lane, Lewisham, and the prisoner said that Mr. Abraham Smith had issued execution for the ground rent, and begged me to let him have the money to pay out the distress to avoid further costs—I drew this cheque for £25, payable to Abraham Smith on order, and gave the prisoner £2 10s. for his trouble—the cheque was cashed through my banker, and I afterwards found that Mr. Smith had never had it—I went to the prisoner's house, and could not find him—I found him in a public-house, and said, "I have come to see you with reference to that cheque I gave you"—he said, "I am sorry that family matters compelled me to use that cheque, but I will see it righted"—he did not say how the endorsement came on it.
Cross-examined. Mr. Greenhill is not my solicitor, but the prisoner came down on business in connection with Mr. Greenhill—I had an interest in one house in Brockley Lane, not two—I advanced the money to James Kendal, not to my brother—this letter of October 29th is my writing, but it is not in reference to this case—I say here speaking of my brother, "The Lady well mortgage deeds he gave me were his own manufacture," and I thought they were—that letter was written in reference to the same house which I gave the cheque for—I only
mortgaged one house, and this letter must be about it—two houses, Nos. 16 and 18, are referred to in the mortgage deeds, but one was released; I cannot say when—the deeds of those two houses were deposited at my bank at Chorley, but I had no advance on them—I have not got my bank-book here, I have not had notice to produce it—the ground-rent of one house is £6 8s., of the other £6 10s.—my brother was looking after the rent due to the Corporation, and I thought nothing about there being two years' back rent owing, till the execution was put in—I had an agreement with him, but I have not seen it lately—I made an arrangement with regard to the Chancery proceedings, but that has nothing to do with this case—Mr. Banks afterwards told me that four years and a quarter's ground rent was due—they did not issue a writ against me for that, but against the mortgagor for £85—the prisoner did not write the name of Abraham Smith on the back of that cheque with my consent; nor did I say, "That is very clever of you, Mr. London lawyer, endorsing a cheque before you part with it"—I was not packing up some apples at the time—I saw him put the cheque in his pocket, and he wired, "Stay proceedings"—a bailiff would of course accept that cheque—£85 was the amount of the distress, but £25 was the amount he asked for—this was about two o'clock—he never endorsed the cheque in my presence—I packed some apples up for him in the next office while he was writing out an agreement in his own private business—I was not aware till lately that the banker at Sydenham telegraphed to my banker about this cheque—my brother is married to the sister of the man who cashed this cheque, but I never spoke half a dozen words to him in my life—the manager told me to get the ground-rents—I was not concerned in the manufacture of the bogus deeds—I did not appoint the prisoner to act as my agent in an action between Grundy and Noon—this is my writing (produced)—it was with regard to this action that he came to see me at Chorley—he did go not through the books of Grundy and Noon, and make a very exhaustive extract, going over fifteen years; I made that out—I don't know whether my brother Thomas has got it; it was taken to the Town Clerk, who was defending the action—I do not owe the prisoner any money; I paid Mr. Greenhill for what he did in Noon and Grundy—I had never seen Mr. Greenhill—I can't say whether I ever had a letter from him; I know nothing about him; the only person I knew in the matter was Banks—after that cheque was passed through the bank and honoured I had a settlement with my brother, but that £25 was not taken into account—my brother did not say, "You have had £25, and you shan't have any more"—I did not refuse to pay any more because Greenhill had no certificate—I was not employing Banks, but he offered to do this, and I consented—I did not expect him to do it for nothing—I got angry with him with regard to the other action—the first letter I wrote to him complaining about his writing "Abraham Smith "on the cheque was on November 12th—I wrote to him on the 11th and 13th; I made five or six applications, and he took no notice of them; I thought he was secreting himself—I went to Lady well on the Boat Race day in April—that was about five months afterwards; I found him in a public-house—a friend of mine named Shirley went with me, and we went back to Banks' house—he said, "You can settle your differences yourself"—I never saw a chair in his room
to sit upon; there was only an old desk and a picture or two—I did not ask him to give me two of the pictures, I would not give them house room—I swear he did not endorse this cheque in my presence with my consent.
Re-examined. I made repeated applications for the £25—he has never paid me any part of it—it is a lie to say that he wrote "Abraham Smith" on the cheque with my consent—the distress was put into other houses as well, and the whole amount was £85; he told me that £25 was owing on my house, and in consequence of that I gave him the cheque.
By the COURT. I do not know Mr. Abraham Smith or his writing—the endorsement is like the prisoner's writing.
JAMES WADDINGTON . I am a builder, of 33, High Street, Sydenham—on 3rd November the prisoner called on me and produced two cheques—I believe this is one of them—he asked me to pass it through my Account, and I have no doubt it bore this endorsement then—I did so, and it was duly honoured—I gave the prisoner the cash for the two cheques—I do not know Mr. Abraham Smith.
Cross-examined. I did not know till recently that my bankers telegraphed to Chorley—I knew that the drawers' names were all right—I was not particularly wanting money to pay wages on that Saturday—I gave prisoner £5 on Monday, and £20 afterwards—my clerk paid them in; he is here—I can give you no information why they telegraphed to Chorley—I did not instruct them to do so, or tell my clerk to do so.
Re-examined. I believe my bank telegraphed to know whether there were funds—the cheque is dated November 1.
ABRAHAM SMITH . I am an auctioneer, of 28, Finsbury Circus, and have been twenty years bailiff for the Collector of Rents for the Corporation of London—on 22nd October a distress for ground-rent was put in at 16, Brockley Lane, for £26 the endorsement to this cheque is not my writing, or placed there by my authority—I have never received the amount, or any part of it.
Cross-examined. This is a warrant to distrain on No. 15; there were three or four warrants for that property.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Reading on 18th October, 1880, when he was sentenced to Eighteen Months' Imprisonment, but stated that he was liberated by the Home Office after serving Six Months.— Six Months' Hard Labour.—There were two other indictments against the prisoner.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
CHARLES GREENHAM . I am a grocer, of 22A, Rodney Street, Clerkenwell—on 17th May, about 11. 45, I shut up my shop and house securely—I came down about seven next morning, and found a pane of glass had been taken out of a door at the back, the fastenings undone, and the door opened—the kitchen had been ransacked, and I missed three coats, a jacket, a pair of trousers, a waistcoat, and some shirts—I saw my waistcoat and shirt at the station; Goldsborough was wearing them—I iden
tified other property at the Police-court, and also some things produced by the pawnbrokers.
AMELIA ANN GREENHAM . I am the wife of the last witness—on 18th May, when I came down, I missed from the kitchen three sheets, ten pinafores, eight towels, two pillow-cases, three aprons, and other articles—this bag is like one which I lost.
Cross-examined by Powell. I know the aprons by the iron-moulds on them, and by the end of the strings being hemmed; they had no holes in them—this one is not mine, the other two are—I cut one sheet in two, and hemmed one and not the other—they are not two different kinds of stuff—I know this shirt by this patch on the wrist-band which I put on myself.
JOHN ROBINSON (Police Sergeant G). On Sunday, 26th May, I was with Mather, and took the prisoners at 11. 30 p. m., as suspected persons, and for attempting to open a door with a key—they struggled for ten minutes at the corner of Weston Street; we took them to the station, and next morning I found Powell's address 20, Wellington Street; went there, searched a bedroom, and found these three aprons, three sheets, two pillow-cases, and other articles—I found a bunch of keys on the shelf; one was a skeleton key newly filed, a chisel, a knife blade, and several pick-locks—a girl there, named Clark, was taken in custody, and remanded for a week, and in consequence of what Powell said she was discharged—when Powell was charged on the 27th, he said, "I bought them in the Cattle Market three weeks ago; I gave three shillings for them"—I said "Can you give me the name or description of the man you bought them of?"—he said, "No, the man was sitting down"—after Greenham identified the shirt and waistcoat Goldsborough was wearing, Goldsborough said, "I can prove my sister bought the waistcoat about two years ago and the shirt five weeks ago"—Clark was charged with them: she made no answer to the charge in the prisoner's presence.
Cross-examined by Powell. We had been watching you for some nights, knowing you—I did not see sufficient for me to apprehend you—I saw you both trying doors apparently with a key—I did not strike you, but when you were struggling several gentlemen struck you with their umbrellas—I had no truncheon—I left you at the station about twenty minutes, and went to the place where you were struggling, where you threw something away, but it was raining very hard, and I could not see what it was—I did not find anything; the man on the beat found it.
Cross-examined by Goldsborough. I searched one room in your house, and while I did so the door of the next room was locked, and I did not get in for half an hour—this shawl, worth £5, was among the things which Powell said he gave 3s. for; it is needlework all over.
CHARLES MATHER . I took Goldsborough—he was wearing this shirt and waistcoat—he resisted very violently, and threw me to the ground—he struggled for five minutes—I did not strike his head or inflict any wound on him—we were surrounded by a number of people, who I thought were the prisoners' friends; they were striking us with umbrellas and walking-sticks.
Cross-examined by Goldsborough. We did not strike you or your head, and cut it open an inch deep—I had nothing to strike you with; you threw me twice, and once you were underneath—I made a complaint at
Bagnigge Wells—I found a box of silent matches on you and a piece of wax candle.
Cross-examined by Powell. You tried doors on two occasions, and when the constable came you walked away as far as York Road, and when he turned the corner you both returned to the door again, and I saw your right hand up to the keyhole, which was nearly level with your face—it was raining hard, and there was no shelter there—you were coming away from your house—I saw you first in Gray's Inn Road.
JOHN RAMSAY (Policeman 24 G R). I was on duty at 12. 15 at the corner of Western Street, and picked up three skeleton keys just outside the house which Sergeant Robinson pointed out to me—I made further search, and about 2. 15 I found a jemmy near the gully-hole, embedded in mud about four feet from the keys.
Cross-examined by Powell. I could force five doors out of every six with the jemmy—it is a home-made one.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Powell says; "I am the actual person who bought the things, and I think I shall be able to show where I bought them." Goldsborough says: "I think the case might be settled at once."
ALFRED HENRY BURBAGE . I am assistant to Fish Brothers, pawnbrokers, of Russell Square—I produce a coat and trousers pledged for 28. 6d. on 20th May by a man named Clark—I do not identify either of the prisoners.
FREDERICK HALSEY . I am assistant to Mr. Donaldson, a pawnbroker, of Fitzroy Square—I produce a coat pawned on May 18th for 5s. 6d., and a handkerchief on the same day for 1s., in the name of George Lee, 10, Alfred Place.
Evidence for Goldsborough.
MARY ANN BEDFORD . I am married—Goldsborough is my brother—he was at home on 17th and 18th May, and slept with my son—he sleeps with him every night—I used to see them go up to bed—my son is not here.
Cross-examined. They went to bed much the same one night as another—I remember that it was the 24th, because my son was rather ill at the time, he had diarrhoea very bad—he went to bed on the 26th about the regular time, and not at 11. 30, just after the public-houses shut—I knew on the Monday that he was taken in custody—I did not go to the Police-court when the case was heard.
Powell in his defence said that he bought the things in Smithfield Market for 3s. of a man who looked like a Jew. Goldsborough said that he was walking home, and saw a lot of detectives round Powell; that they knocked him down with a stick, and him (Goldsborough as well) and that he was at the station nearly an hour bleeding; that he bought the shirt and waistcoat in Charlton Street, Somers Town; that he was not out on the night of May 17, as his nephew was ill, and he carried him up to bed at ten o'clock.
POWELL** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Middlesex Sessions on February 1, 1882, after a previous conviction, and
GOLDSBOROUGH** to a conviction at this Court on December 13th, 1880.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. The Grand Jury commended the conduct of the police, in which the Recorder concurred.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, June 28th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. THORNE COLE Prosecuted.
JANE MARSH . I am parlourmaid to Miss Lloyd, of 34, Ashbourne Place, Kensington—on 5th June, about 10. 30 a. m., the prisoner came to the house—I answered the door—he asked if that was where Miss Lloyd lived; I said, "Yes"—he said he came respecting the character of a manservant, James Payne—I asked him into the entrance-hall—he gave me this card, "James Smith Cunningham"—I took it up to the drawing-room to Miss Lloyd, leaving him in the entrance-hall—I waited on the draw room landing while Miss Lloyd hesitated whether she should see him—when I came down after three or four minutes he was by the dining room door—in the dining-room the silver was kept—a silver salt spoon, value 10s., was on the table there when I let the prisoner in; it was just after breakfast—I would not be positive if the dining-room door was open—Miss Lloyd came down; I did not hear what took place between them; she let him out—about 12. 30 I wanted to lay the cloth for lunch, and missed the salt spoon—Miss Lloyd has never kept a man-servant.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I last saw it soon after 10 in the dining room—my lady's sister and her maid called between 10 and 12. 30—there was a large silver goblet and a little silver tray in the room—I only missed the salt spoon—I showed you into a room on the same floor as the dining-room, not into the dining-room—I am positive the spoon was there when you called—I have made a strict search everywhere for it; it was not mislaid.
By the COURT. The table on which the spoon was near the door, and the spoon was by the corner of the table.
Re-examined. The silver spoon could easily have been put in the pocket, but the goblet and tray could not.
HENRY COOPER (Detective F). On Wednesday evening, June 12th, I saw the prisoner at Kensington Police-station having an altercation with a gentleman there; I recognised him from a description—I told him I should take him in custody for stealing, from 34, Ashbourne Place, a silver salt spoon—he made no reply—when the charge was read to him he said, "The servant has made a mistake in my identity; I was not near the place"—I found on him between fifty and sixty slips of paper relating to addresses of widows and maiden ladies—Miss Lloyd does not appear among them—I found three visiting cards in his waistcoat pocket, with the names Hussey Walsh, Trevelyan, and Hope; I also found 6s. 3 1/4 d., a small memorandum book, a gold pencil, knife, bunch of keys, and small scent bottle—he said that the pencil-case was his own, but since then I have found out it was stolen.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he called at the station in consequence of hearing aspersions had been made on his character, and he contended that he would not have done so if he had been a thief. GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
(There were two other indictments against the prisoner for similar offences.)
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MACE . I am a footman—on 13th June, about four o'clock, I was in Brompton Road looking into a bird-shop; I saw the prisoner outside looking at the birds; I thought he was the owner—I said, "What is the name of that bird in the window?"—he said, "A foreign sparrow"—then he began to name some of the birds—he said, "There is a friend of mine down below "(there was a man a few yards down the pavement)" who has got a bird that flew into his shop window this morning, and it astonished him by whistling 'God Save the Queen' and several other tunes; you buy the bird and bring it to my shop, and I will give you £5, and a cage and canary into the bargain"—he said the man wanted £2 10s. for the bird; I said I had not got the money, but I would go and find it—before that he called the other man up, and he showed me the bird—the other man heard the prisoner say he would give me £5—the other man was coming along the pavement, and was ten yards off at first—I went to Fulham Place for the money—I brought £1 10s. back to the outside of South Kensington Station, where they promised to meet me—I found the prisoner there—he said, "Have you seen the other man?"—I said, "No"—he said, "He will be here in a minute"—the other man came with the bird—I said I could not spare £2 10s.—the man with the bird said he could not take £1 10s. at first; but he took it; and he said, "Call at Leverett and Frye's "(a grocer's shop)" and let me know how the bird is going on"—I went to the bird-shop with the bird, and saw the man in the shop immediately afterwards; the prisoner was not there—when I found I was taken in I went to the police-station—the bird did not whistle "God Save the Queen, "it only chirruped—I saw the prisoner on the following Saturday in Hammersmith Broadway, sitting outside a public-house, smoking—I got off the 'bus I was on, went to the police-station, and a policeman came and arrested him—he said I had made a mistake, he was not the man—the prisoner is the man without doubt—the bird is only worth 18d.; it is a foreign bird.
JOHN MACGUIRE (Detective Sergeant P). I took the prisoner at Hammersmith Station, and told him the charge; he said he never saw the bird, and "Ihave not been in the Brompton Road for the last three months"—he said he had been doing no work for some time past; he was a carman.
Cross-examined. I went to the brewery, and saw two foremen and the man to whom you referred me—none of them knew you by your name or as Darkie.
WILLIAM PRING . I keep a bird-shop in Brompton Road—on 12th and 13th June I was at Southampton—my foreman was minding my shop—the prisoner was not employed there—I have never seen him before to my knowledge—I am an expert in birds—this bird is a manakin or white-headed nun, an Indian bird; they never sing—it is worth about eighteen pence.
The prisoner, in his defence, denied all knowledge of the matter. He received a good character
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MEAD Prosecuted, MR. HUTTON Defended. GUILTY of indecent assault. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
FONTINA MARTIN . I live at 8, Munster Square, Regent's Park, and am a widow—I have a small shop there—on 17th May, about 5. 30 a. m., I heard a rustling about of things, and in about twenty minutes I heard a repetition of the noise—about 5. 45 my son came down—I then went into the shop with his assistance, and I saw that things had been taken out of the window, the glass of which was broken, and the blind pulled on one side—it was quite secure the night before—about half the pane of glass was out—I missed two skirts, two bodices, a pair of shoes, and several other things, value about £4 10s.—I had left them on the counter within reach of the window, if anybody smashed the window and put their arms through—my shop had not been opened since Saturday, the 11th, because I had been ill—I was in the parlour behind the shop—in the square in front of the house there is a garden belonging to the persons who live in the square—these articles were kept in the shop on the ground floor.
WALTER HOWLETT . I am a gardener, of 6, Cumberland Market—a little before 6 a. m. on 17th May I was at work in Munster Square, and I saw that Mrs. Martin's window was broken—I saw the prisoner come out at the street door carrying a quantity of clothes, a portmanteau, and wearing apparel—a lady's dress was on the top—I could not see what was underneath—I was about ten or twelve yards from him—he went to York Passage or Court, about ten yards further, and made a bundle of the things, and then he went up a narrow street towards Stanhope Street, about 100 yards long; then he passed to the right, and went out of sight—five or seven minutes afterwards I saw him standing outside Mrs. Martin's again—his arm was through the window as far as he could reach—I saw him turn drapery and other things about at the window—twice he was disturbed by men passing to go to work, and when I was within five yards of him, he went back again after the first man passed, and was still ransacking the window; then a second man disturbed him; he went back to the window—I did not see him take anything from the window, as I lost sight of him—I am quite sure he is the man—I knew him by sight—I informed the police—I saw him again on the Monday following at the bar of a public-house in Jermyn Street—previously I had spoken to Fox, and he was close by—I told Fox that he was the man—I afterwards saw him at Marylebone Police-court, and identified him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you coming out of the door at a quarter-past six with things hanging loose on your arm—after five or ten minutes you came back; I did not say I saw you take more things then—you came to the shop, and went away three different times.
FREDERICK FOX (Sergeant S). A communication was made to me with reference to this burglary, and I examined the premises the shop window consists of eight panes of glass, none of which open; the framework is a fixture, and cannot be opened—I found one pane of glass about
eighteen inches square was broken, and about half of it was out, and lying on the shelf inside; it appeared to have been previously done—there was plenty of room for an arm to go through—I should think it had been pushed in with a hand from the outside—on 20th May, about 11. 30 p. m., I arrested the prisoner, and said, "We are police officers, I shall arrest you, Baynes, for committing a burglary at 8, Munster Square, on the morning of the 17th"—he made no answer—we took him to the station, he was not charged on this charge till nearly a fortnight afterwards; then he said, "That is something I know nothing about.
By the COURT. The private windows of the house front into the square, and the entrance to the basement of the house is by going down an area—the shop door is in Wybond Street—the shop and parlour are really one room, but the shop is partitioned off from the room—there is no means of entering the shop, except from the parlour—the prisoner might have gone down to the area door, which I found open, when I visited the premises; he would come upstairs, open the door, and come out, but he could not then get into the shop except by going through the parlour; that door is close to the window, and the inference is that he put the things into the doorway one at a time—Howlett gave a very accurate description of the prisoner.
Cross-examined. You can get to the door the prisoner came out of without entering the parlour—the prosecutrix does not occupy the basement—I did not say to you at the station, "Can you put me on a straight road to find these things? and I will be doing you a great kindness."
By the COURT. A road runs between the houses, and the garden is surrounded by railings; no one can enter it without a key—there are a few shrubs in it, but not at that particular place.
The prisoner', in his statement before the Magistrate, said his sister Mrs. Denis and her husband could say that he was sleeping at their house on this night, and knew nothing about the case.
F. FOX (Re-examined). Mr. and Mrs. Denis were at the Police-court, but did not give evidence; they are not here—I went to his sister's house, the prisoner does not live there.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he knew nothing about the matter
WALTER HOWLETT (Re-examined). The prisoner came from the door a little before six, and it was soon after six he put his arm through the window—I noticed the broken window after six—I did not see that it was broken before I saw him come out—he could not have broken it without my seeing him after six; he must have broken it previously to taking the clothes away—I was close to the church, and heard the chimes go quarter to six.
GUILTY .—He then
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
MR. MEAD Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended. GEORGE PAWSEY (Police Sergeant) produced and proved a plan of the premises.
BRIDGET FITZPATRICK . I am the mother of Mary Ann Spencer, the wife of Samuel Spencer—they have three children, and live at 9, Lucretia Street; they occupy the top front room—the next room, the back, is occupied by another lodger—there are three rooms underneath, two back and one front—those rooms were not occupied—on the basement there is a shop and parlour, unoccupied—the front of the shop is in Harriet Street; my daughter's window faces Harriet Street—the shop door is at the corner; we get into my daughter's part of the house by a side door in Lucretia Street, without going through the shop—on Wednesday, 22nd May, I was taking charge of the children in my daughter's room—I went there at ten in the morning—she and her husband were out of work—between twelve and one the prisoner knocked at the lodger's door; she was out—I opened our door to see who was knocking, and said to the prisoner, "There is nobody in there, she has gone out—I knew he was the landlord—he said, "Do you know if she has got a room yet?"—I said I did not know—he said, "Never mind, I will have her out by-and-bye"—he then went downstairs, but not out into the street—he was in the premises, I cannot tell where—about half an hour later on I heard footsteps; I looked over the banisters, and he was coming out of the back room on the first floor—that was about half-past one, as near as I could judge; there was no clock in the house—then I found an awful sensation come over me—I did not smell anything then, I was very fidgety, in and out—I looked over the parapet, and all in a minute I found a stench, and as quick as it came I went again to the parapet and saw the prisoner go out; that was about ten minutes before the fire, which was about ten minutes to three—he went out of the side door and went round the corner to Harriet Street—I noticed a smell when I put my head out over the parapet, just as he was going out of the door—it smelt like burning—about eight minutes after the prisoner left my son-in-law, Spencer, came in, and in two or three minutes I found the place was on fire—that was about ten minutes after the prisoner had left.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Robertson lodged in the next room—it was something between 12 and I when I first saw the prisoner—it was half past I when I saw him the second time—I did not see him come in—I heard him knock at the next door.
SAMUEL SPENCER . I live at 9, Lucretia Street, Lower Marsh, Lambeth—on 22nd May, at ten minutes to 3, I was in Lower Marsh, and saw the prisoner going towards Waterloo Road, coming away from our house—I said, "Good afternoon, sir," and he said, "Good afternoon"—I was going home—this was about three or four minutes' walk from the house—I went home at once—after I had been in my room three or four minutes some stranger halloed upstairs; it was a scream like—I did not go down—I afterwards found there was a fire in the shop—I assisted in breaking open the shop door and putting out the fire.
Cross-examined. I had to kick the door—I had passed that door two or three minutes before; it was the door leading out of the passage—I am a shoeblack—I did not know of the key of the room behind the shop being stolen; I never heard of it till I was in Court—I could not say whether the door was locked or bolted when I kicked it open, I was too
excited to look—I could not say whether it was open or shut; I kicked it with my foot, and it did not open directly—I had lodged there since 8th December—I had told the prisoner a week before that I was going to leave—I did not see a bill up to let the house—I did not know that he wanted to let the whole house to one person instead of separately.
Re-examined. He never complained to me of the key being lost—I should think I kicked at the door between 10 and 12 times before it opened wide—it seemed to open very hard; it seemed to me to be shut—I did not turn the handle—I could not swear whether there was a handle or not, I never noticed the door.
ANN LORDEN . I am the wife of John Lorden, of 16, Lucretia Street, just opposite No. 9—on the day of the fire I saw the prisoner come to the side door at three o'clock, and I saw a little smoke come out of the door, but I took no notice of it—I went indoors, and about five minutes after I came back to look after the baby, who was in the street, and I saw smoke coming out of the shop door, thick—I went across to bring the baby away, and I could hear the wood cracking—I spoke to two women next door, and went to the side door and pushed it in, and halloed, "Is anybody there?"—I got no answer—I tried the parlour door at the back of the shop, but could not open it; I shook the door, and said, "Is anybody in here?"—I got no answer—I did not turn the handle.
Cross-examined. I was not before the Magistrate till the 29th of May—I was not called to give evidence till 1st June—I said that I saw Mr. Inglis come out and pull the side door after him—I stood at my door, and could see the side door and the shop door—I could not see the parlour door till I went over—when I said He pulled to the side door I meant the street door—I believe the street door is never shut; you have to put your hand to it, and it pushes in; I mean it is never fastened in the daytime—I went and pushed it open; I had no trouble, only put my hand, and it came open—it was about five minutes before that I saw a little smoke come out of the side door, as if a fire had been lighted—I know nothing about people going into the shop and sleeping there—I have not been mixed up with any assault on the prisoner, nor has my son.
Re-examined. I have never been asked before about people going into the shop to sleep—I never saw any.
SOPHIA RUDDICK . I live at 14, Lucretia Street, right facing No. 9—about three o'clock on the day of the fire I was sitting at my window, from which I could see the parlour door at the back of the shop—I saw Mr. Inglis come out of the parlour, and come out of the side door into the street; he walked away and went round the corner—as he shut the parlour door I noticed some smoke coming out of the back parlour door; he looked up at me, and I nodded to him, and he nodded to me—I was waiting for my tea to draw—I afterwards heard some screams—I went to the window and saw Mrs. Lorden run across the road, and I heard her call up the stairs, "For God's sake bring down the children, the house is on fire!"—I saw some flames when Mrs. Lorden put her foot to the back parlour door and it came open—that was about ten minutes after the prisoner had left.
Cross-examined. The street door was wide open; it was always open—I saw Mr. Inglis pull it to that day—I did not see him enter the house—it was about three as near could be when he came out—after nodding to him I went to my tea, and remained at my tea about ten minutes—I
saw the smoke come out of the parlour when Mr. Inglis shut the door—it was a little smoke, not much—I know that the key of the shop door had been stolen a week or a fortnight before; a little boy was accused of taking it—I do not know of people going in there at night and sleeping there—my first name is Walton—I don't know that Ruddick has a wife alive—I have been living with him eleven years—I am not his wife—I did not tell the Magistrate that I was.
WILLIAM WALLIS . I live at 25, King Street, Cornwall Road—about three on the afternoon of this fire I was working at a house, No. 12, Harriet Street—I saw smoke coming out of the corner of the shutter at the end of the shop—I went to the shop door and burst it open with my foot—I sent for the fireman.
Cross-examined. It was the shop door that I forced—I did not go on the premises, I went to the fire-alarm at the point, and communicated with the Kennington fire-engine in that way—I came back in four or five minutes; by the time I came back the fire was put out—the fireman had not arrived—I have seen boys at times playing about near the side door, and pushing one another into the parlour door—it had no fastening—I have seen boys playing about there ever since I have been at work there, from Monday till the fire occurred—I saw children playing there about ten minutes to three on this day, playing at the side door and pushing one another into the parlour—since I gave evidence at the Police-court I have been threatened and insulted by Mrs. Lorden's daughter—she jobbed me in the chin with her hand, and cut me with her nails—I had not done or said anything to her—I don't know why she did it.
WILLIAM BUTCHER . I am fireman to the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, at Waterloo Road Fire Brigade Station—on 22nd May, at ten minutes past three in the afternoon, I received a call to 9, Lucretia Street—I arrived there within nine minutes of the call—I found both the doors open—I went in and found some fires; one in the cupboard in the back parlour; another in the cupboard in the shop; also some fire under the counter; but I think possibly that had been thrown there—those in the cupboards were two distinct fires; they could not have communicated—the fire under the counter consisted of rolls of paper; and there was a parcel of coal-and coke there, about ten or twelve pounds, saturated with fresh paraffin, quite wet—I also found some rags and felt there, freshly saturated with paraffin—there was also paraffin on the counter, and generally all over the room, also in different parts of the floor in the shop—I found a can in the back parlour, close to the cupboard that was on fire; it contained about half a pint of paraffin—I think the things on fire under the counter were very likely thrown there by some of the people who had come in to put out the fire, because there was no damage to the counter, and if there had been a fire there, there would have been damage, it was a lighter fire than the others.
Cross-examined. The two cupboards adjoined one another; they were separated by a brick party wall—I have said that the fire in one cupboard possibly might have ignited the other; but very improbable—I think Wallis was the person who gave the alarm; and I was there in ten minutes—the fire was not quite out when I got there; I saw some water thrown in the two cupboards—the can stood in the back room, between the fender and the cupboard, about a foot away; the top was off it—I do not know that the shop had been occupied by an oil and colour man—the felt under the counter had not ignited.
Re-examined. The paraffin in the can was quite fresh—both cupboards contained rubbish, wall-paper, rags, and such like—the cupboard in the parlour was nearly burnt through; nearly destroyed—the one in the shop was on the second shelf; that was very severely damaged by fire.
MARY ANN SPENCER . I am the wife of Samuel Spencer—on the day of the fire I saw the prisoner, and spoke to him, the first time about twelve, and the second about three, or a little after—he asked me if Mrs. Robertson had a room there—I said I did not know about other people's business—he said if it cost him 5s. he would get her out, and he said he wished to God when he came again the place was completely burnt to the ground, as he was sick and tired of coming round and getting no rents—I said, "Not while there were children and people in the house; there was many a true word spoken in jest."
Cross-examined. I first gave evidence on 1st June—I know the key of the room was missing; it was lost on Saturday, 7th May—I once had seven days for wilful damage; that is the only time I have been before a Magistrate—the front door in Lucretia Street was never shut at night, only when we lodgers used to put the bolt on if we thought of it, which was very seldom—the banisters were not pulled away or damaged—I heard of the water-pipe being cut away—I do not know of casuals getting into the shop; they could not, because Mr. Inglis was too careful in having his place locked and padlocked—he got a fresh key on the same Saturday.
ALBERT DUDLEY (Policeman P 261). On 22nd May, at 5. 35, I got a telegram at the Peckham Station from Kennington Road Station—I went with it about ten minutes to six to 44, Culmore Road, where the prisoner lives—I saw a lady there, and gave her the telegram; she took it into a side room; I heard some conversation there; she came back, and gave me back the telegram, and said, "Mr. Inglis will attend at once"—I took it back to the station; I did not see the prisoner or hear his voice (Telegram read: "Please inform Mr. G. Inglis, 44, Culmore Road, Peckham, that his house in Lucretia Street has been on fire. Will he attend?—Reply")—it is a police telegram, not a Post Office one—I telegraphed the lady's message to Kennington.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). At eight o'clock on 22nd May I went with Inspector Harvey to 44, Culmore Road, Peckham; I did not see the prisoner there—I then went to 9, Lucretia Street and then back to Culmore Road and inquired for the prisoner; I was told he was from home—I remained in the neighbourhood till past one, and kept observation on the house—two females left the house during that time, but not the prisoner—I saw a female leave shortly before one, and go and look about the neighbourhood, and then return and make a low hiss—I then saw the prisoner leave, and they both walked across the road towards the end of Culmore Road—we followed, and about 150 yards from the house I got in front of them—I said, "I understand your name is George Inglis?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "We are police officers, and are going to take you into custody on a charge of wilfully setting fire to your place at 9, Lucretia Street"—he said, "The premises belong to my daughter; I am her agent; I was there between two and three to-day, the place was then all right"—he said he was going to see his sick sister at that time—I said, "The inspector and I called at your place at eight o'clock, and we were told by your daughter that you had just gone, about
a quarter of a hour before, and this man (pointing to Boswell) and I called at ten, and we were then told you were not at home"—he said, "She told me that the Salvage man had been, and two gentlemen before; of course you know what it is; I was told I was going to be charged with arson, and I did not like to run into the lion's den, that was the reason I did not go to see the place"—I said, "You had no such communication from the police; the only communication you had from the police was by wire, informing you of the fire and asking you to come at once"—he then said, "I have sent my man to see what damage there was; I am told it is not much; the man that told me I should be charged with arson called about a quarter to nine; he said he assisted to put the fire out with buckets of water"—I took the prisoner to Kennington Road Station—Inspector Harvey told him the charge; it was feloniously setting fire to his premises, No. 9, Lucretia Street, four persons being there at the time—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He said, "You could have found me in the morning," not, "I should have come to the station in the morning"—his sister was with him—I did not hear Inspector Harvey say aloud in the street, "When Inglis comes arrest him, for the neighbours say he has done it"—he said it to me in the office—that was after we had examined the premises—we determined to arrest him from the very first time the fire was discovered, shortly after six—I knew that a telegram had been sent to him to induce him to come down—we intended to take him into custody when he came—an old man named Botty came to the place about half-past seven—he said he came from the prisoner to see what damage was done.
JAMES COLLINS UNDERWOOD . I am secretary of No. 3 Borough of Lambeth Building Society—I have the certificate of incorporation of that society—the house 9, Lucretia Street, was with four others mortgaged to us—I produce the deed; it is dated 14th February, 1883, by Rebecca Inglis, for £900 odd, at 6 or 7 per cent.—the interest was in arrear for about twelve months—it was payable in advance—I had interviews with the prisoner with regard to it; he acted for Miss Inglis in the matter—we had some other property mortgaged to us by her—we proposed to sell both properties—we put a reserve of £1,500, and they were not sold—the proposed sale was about a week previous to the fire taking place—I saw the prisoner between those dates—I have a copy of the policy of insurance—the insurance was effected directly after the mortgage—the purchase and mortgage were at the same time, I think, on 29th March, 1884—the amount of the insurance was £2,000 for the five houses—I paid the premiums, being the agent for the company.
Cross-examined. I think the cost price of the buildings was £1,600—the reason why the property was mortgaged was in order that she might obtain sufficient to pay for it—she was possessed of other property—£200 was deposited on the day of sale in order that the property should not be sacrificed—£1,200 was offered for the five houses the next day—that would have covered over £900 and interest, and we should have had to return the £200 guarantee—I have known the prisoner about seven years as a perfectly respectable man—I personally saw what the damage was the day after the fire—there was no lock on the side street door—I think I saw a lock on the door leading into the parlour; it
appeared to have been broken, as if the door had been broken open—I went in from the shop door that was being fastened back by a pair of steps put against it inside—the window at the back of the premises was half-way open, and I should say it was a very easy way for anyone to get in that way, as part of the window frame was burnt from this fire—I did not notice the fastening—the window is not very high from the ground—Sergeant Harvey asked me if the building society I represent would prosecute, and I said, "No"—£7 was the cost of reinstating the damage—the insurance company paid that—the floor of the parlour and shop were in a dirty and filthy state, and covered with paraffin—I do not know of the premises having been occupied by an oilman—it had been occupied as a sweetstuff shop—No. 12, Fraser Street, one of the houses insured, was occupied as a shop, and a quantity of paraffin was kept to be sold there—that was at the other corner of the block of houses—there is no description in the policy as to how the shop in question was occupied; it is simply described as a shop—I do not know that Miss Inglis had determined to let the whole premises to one tenant.
Re-examined. The society refused to accept the offer of £1,200 because it did not cover the amount of the two mortgages—I don't know of these premises having been used as an oil-shop; I cannot say they were not.
Cross-examined. The last witness is our agent—Inspector Harvey called at the office the day after the fire, and asked if the secretary would prosecute—we do not prosecute; we hardly ever do; it is not usual.
EDWARD STREVENS . I am an architect and surveyor, and am assistant to the district surveyor of Camberwell—I produce a plan of these premises—it is to scale, and is accurate—I went on the premises to make it on Tuesday morning, 25th June—I went through the next door, and got over the back wall—the door opened into the wash-house, and I got into the house that way—there was a lock on the door leading from the shop to the back parlour, but whether it was in use I could not say—I did not notice whether it was broken—I did not notice whether there was any fastening to the back window—the premises had been repaired and cleaned.
Witnesses for the Defence.
BENJAMIN SODEN SANDELL . I am a clerk in the office of Mr. Ody, a solicitor, of 264, Camberwell New Road—I produce the call-book in which I enter the names of clients who call—on Wednesday, the 22nd, Mr. Inglis called at the office—he had some proceedings on at Lambeth County-court at the time—it was just about luncheon-time, and Mr. Ody had gone on to the Court—I walked with Mr. Inglis to the Court, and left him with Mr. Ody.
ROBERT MORTON ODY . On 22nd May I was at the Lambeth County court, in Camberwell New Road—a process was being taken out by Mr. Inglis, in which I was acting for him—I saw him that day about ten minutes past one—I know the time well, because the clerks were having their dinner at the time—by walking to Camberwell Green you can get a tramcar to the New Cut—that would take about half an hour or thirty five minutes at the very outside—I have known Mr. Inglis for ten years—my father has acted professionally for him for that time—he has borne a perfectly good character; there is no stain against him.
GEORGINA CREIGHTON . I am the wife of William Creighton, of 16, Harriet Street, Lambeth—a school-bell rings for the children in the middle of the day from ten to five minutes to two—I recollect the day before the fire at 9, Lucretia Street—on that day I was sitting at my street door sewing my dress—Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Daley were at No. 15, next door—I saw Mr. Inglis turn the corner of Fraser Street—he crossed over the road, passed me, and spoke to me; and I saw him speak to Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Daley, and go round Lucretia Street—I could not say what house he went to—he was back again within less than ten minutes; that was about ten minutes or a little after two—he passed me again, and went towards Fraser Street, turning to the left, which would take him into the Cut, and I saw no more of him—I remained at the door till about a quarter to three—I did not see him again.
Cross-examined. He could have gone to Lucretia Street another way. Re-examined. I am quite sure I saw him pass; he nodded as he passed the second time.
ANN COOPER . I am married—I occupied a room at 15, Lucretia Street, at which Mr. Inglis collects the rents—on Wednesday, 22nd May, I saw him about five minutes to two as the school-bell was ringing—he went round to Lucretia Street, was there about five minutes, and I saw him come back again—I saw Mrs. Creighton at work at her doorstep at the time—there was an alarm of fire over an hour after, and we ran over.
ELLEN DALEY . I am the wife of Daniel Daley, and live at 17, Harriet Street—on the day of the fire I saw Mr. Inglis from ten to five minutes to two—the bell was ringing for the children to go to school—Mrs. Creighton was at her door at work; I was in company with Mrs. Cooper—Mr. Inglis spoke to her as he passed on towards 9, Lucretia Street—he returned in about ten minutes, and went round the corner to go into the Cut—I did not see him afterwards.
LAURENCE CASEY . I have lived sixteen years in the two houses, 16 and 17, Harriet Street, most part in 16—I have been a tenant of Mr. Inglis ever since he had the houses, seven years, and for nine years before—on the day of the fire I saw him about five or six minutes to two as I was going back from dinner; I met him in the street; he was going into Mr. Stroud's shop, crossing from Fraser Street into Harriet Street to the corner shop—I know of leaden pipes being taken away by people, one from 16 and two from 17.
Cross-examined. He went to the corner shop—they sell paraffin there—I did not see him come out.
JANE LAKE . I live with my husband at 99, Cornwall Road, Lambeth; he is the owner of house property—I did not know Mr. Inglis until we had some negotiations about a house—on 22nd May he came to our place about half-past two in the afternoon; I speak to the time by the children going to school—I told him my husband had just gone out; I am quite sure it was half-past two, not later; we were having a cup of tea.
Cross-examined. I heard of the fire the same evening when my husband came home; it is about five or ten minutes' walk from our place—he was not carrying anything when he came to our house.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted; MR. POLAND, Q. C., with MR. GEOGHEGAN
NOT GUILTY .
Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor.— One Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
WALTER FLAXWELL . I am manager of the Duke of Edinburgh public-house, Brixton—on April 4th I went to bed about 1 a. m., leaving the house securely fastened; I came down at 7. 30 and found it broken into—I missed eight boxes of cigars and thirty-five billiard balls, worth about £25, and about 25s. in money—a pane of glass had been taken out of the scullery—I identify the property.
THOMAS TAYLOR (Policeman W R 503). On 4th April, about 5. 20 a. m., I went to 22, Stewart Road, with two other officers, knocked at the door, and it was opened about six inches by a man; as soon as he saw me he closed it—we forced our way in, chased him into the back kitchen, and saw him jump out at the back window—that was Dawes, who is not here—the prisoner and two others were sitting at a table in the kitchen, on which were 35 billiard balls, eight boxes of cigars, a box of cigarettes, a tablecloth, which has been identified, and about 10 oz. of tobacco—I took one man with each hand, No. 155 took the man I had with my left, and caught the prisoner with his left; the prisoner struggled, slipped his coat, and escaped; this is his coat (produced)—we took the other two men to the station—on June 2nd I went to the prisoner's barracks at Kingston, and saw him; he had no tunic or coat on—I said, "What is your name?"—he said, "Taylor"—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "In the Borough"—I said, "Your name is not Taylor, it is Musty, you come from Battersea; I am going to take you in custody for breaking into a public-house in Brixton on April 3rd, and for being concerned in other burglaries"—he said, "You have made a mistake, my name is Taylor"—he afterwards admitted that his name was Musty, and he had previously enlisted in the same regiment and deserted—I am sure he is the man I saw in the kitchen—I had been to Kingston three weeks before, when 150 men were paraded, and did not pick him out—I described the coat to him—he said, "That is not my coat, but my brother's; why did not you recognise me when you came down before? I knew you at once"—I had only seen him in plain clothes, and the uniform made all the difference.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I turned up your wrists and found the marks of identification, tattoo marks of a bracelet on your wrists, and a mark on your arm.
WILLIAM CADWALLADER (Policeman W 155). I was with Taylor on April 4th, when he went to the house about 5. 20 a. m.—we forced an entry into the back room, where the prisoner and two men were playing at cards—there were bagatelle balls, cigars, and cigarettes, and different things on the table, which have been identified—I seized Howard and the prisoner, and just as I got to the door the prisoner slipped his coat off and went away—I am certain he is the man.
Cross-examined. I was not fetched to identify you, nor did I say to Taylor, "I should not have known him."
GEORGE HAINES (Policeman W 312). I went with the other two constables to this house—I saw the prisoner with two other men at the table playing at cards—the three were taken in custody, and on the way the prisoner escaped.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I have nothing to do with this at all."
Prisoner's defence. I was not there. I was not in the neighbourhood at the time.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court on 23rd April, 1888, having then been previously convicted.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.—There was another indictment against the prisoner.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
JAMES FREEMAN . I am a bookbinder's finisher, of 11, Austral Street, St. George's Road—about 11. 15 on Tuesday, May 7, I was in Garden Row, walking home—I saw a shadow drifting across the road, and I was thrown down on my left side—I instantly threw my umbrella away and grasped my watch—the man, I believe he was the prisoner, but I cannot identify him, tried very hard to get my hand away and get my watch—I felt I was being overcome and I snatched his cap, a kind of seafaring one, from his head—this is it; there is a little of the blood off my thumb on it—a little girl picked it up—he punched my hand to try and get my hand away—he got a portion of my chain—then a woman screamed, and I think the prisoner got alarmed—he got off me and ran away, and I saw no more of him till he was in custody—my left side was hurt from my elbow down to my knee when I was thrown down; my knee came across the kerb—my right thumb was hurt, and my wrist sprained in consequence of the punching—I did not once see the man's face—I was asked to identify the man, and could not—my watch and chain were gold.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I mentioned the marks of blood on the cap to the police who took the charge—I did not say to the Magistrate that I felt any blow behind my ear—the injury to my wrist and thumb came in the struggle—I felt the effects of the injury three days after—I did not state about them at the Police-court—this happened on Tuesday, and I went to a medical man on Saturday—a little girl picked up the cap, and gave it to me with my umbrella—no one proposed that I should be examined by a surgeon; I had been to him before—I told him what had happened, and he afterwards came to the station—I did not ask him to come.
FREDERICK AYLING . I live at 24, Earl Street, London Road—on Tuesday night, 7th May, I was in Garden Row with my sister, coming from a friend of my mother—outside the beer-shop there I saw the prosecutor walking along; the prisoner went up and got hold of him round the waist and knocked him down, and fell on top of him, and tried to snatch his chain—he did not succeed, because we heard the old gentleman halloing for help, and we all ran across the road and pulled the prisoner off—he ran through a court on the opposite side of the road—I knew him by sight—I saw him again at the station, where I picked him out from among others—I am quite sure he is the man; he had on this cap, and during the struggle it fell off, and the gentleman picked it up, and held it, and gave it to a policeman—my sister did not touch the cap, she picked up the umbrella—there were no other people there—I did not see the old gentleman pick up the cap, because we ran up the court after the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court my sister picked up the cap—she did do so—this took place on the 7th—I am not in the habit of taking much notice of the days of the month—I asked the policeman if the date was 7th May, at the Police-court, and he said it was—I helped to pull you off—you put your arm round his waist from behind—a she fell you fell on top of him, and punched him—you struck him behind the ear, and hit him, and he was insensible—eight or nine men were standing for identification with you when I and my sister identified you—my sister only picked out you; no one else—I did not see her pick you out—she told me when she came out—I was outside—I go to bed usually at nine or ten, but this night we were coming home from a friend's—you and the prosecutor were standing on the left side of the road going up when the robbery was committed—I saw your hat fall, off in the struggle.
JANE AYLING . I live with my brother at 24, Earl Street—on 27th May I came up Garden Row with him and my mother—opposite the beerhouse I saw the prisoner come behind Mr. Freeman and nit him behind the ear, and Mr. Freeman fell down, and called out, "Help, help!"—the prisoner fell down with him—I did not see him do anything else—my mother screamed out, and then the prisoner jumped up and ran away through the court—he had this cap on when he came up—it came off in the struggle, and I afterwards picked it off the ground, and gave it to Mr. Freeman, who gave it to the policeman—I had not seen the prisoner before to my knowledge—afterwards I went to the police-station, and picked out the prisoner from 13 or 14 others—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I did not say at the Police-court I came across the road, and tried to pull you off—my mother did that—she could not recognise you, and did not want to come here—I picked up your cap from the ground, and gave it to the prosecutor—when I picked you out I said, "That is the man"—the detective said, "Touch him, my dear; don't be afraid, he won't hurt you; "nothing else—I said at the police-station when you asked me that I did not understand the nature of an oath—I know it is telling nothing but the truth; my mother told me—I shall go to hell if I do not tell the truth—I picked no one out before I picked out you; the detective was there and a few other men; my brother was outside—you and the prosecutor were on the left side of the road—we did not go to the station that night, we went home—I gave my evidence on the day I picked you out—when the detectives came they asked me
if I knew the man—I said yes, I could recognise him, and I told them the sort of man he was—they did not tell me how you were dressed—my mother told me this robbery was committed on 7th May—I told the Magistrate I was sure you were the man.
GEORGE WALTER DOWELL . I live at 50, Elliot's Road, St. George's Road—the prisoner had a room in my house on 7th May—on that night he was out—I never saw him in any other cap than one of this description—he came in about 11. 45 with nothing on his head, and no coat; in his shirt sleeves—he appeared sober—I could walk from my house to Garden Row in two or three minutes.
Cross-examined. I opened the door to you between quarter and five minutes to twelve—you looked as though you had been running—one of the detectives came for me—I have given your wife notice to leave; you owe us rent—you are not on bad terms with me as a landlord—I have no vindictive feelings whatever—I heard you say, "I think I had better go"—the detective told me to mention it to the Magistrate as I was about to leave the witness-box—I had not told them about it—I told them my suspicions about you—my wife may have told them—you ran out of our house, and I did not see you again till at the Court—I did not see the detectives till the Wednesday, I think—my wife was in bed when you came in on the night of the robbery—very possibly she could see you come in from the position of the bed; she says she did—the bedroom door was partly open when I came to let you in—I never saw you wear anything but a cap of this description—I did not observe you go out on the morning of the robbery—I saw you half a dozen times while you were living in the house—you were not there all the time—I heard you were away all day and night for some time—I made inquiries about you—I saw you with a coat of the description you have now—I never saw you with a jacket that I know of—your cap, when you were at our place, appeared to fit you—I cannot swear this is the same cap, it is very much like it—when you said you had better go, I thought you had been doing something wrong by the manner you came into the house—I had my suspicions about you—I had been watching you—I think very possibly my wife heard you say, "I think I had better go"—you did not say, "I think I had better go and get them"—I told my wife what I heard, and said, "I will not have them in my house; they are dangerous people."
ELIZA DOWELL . I am the last witness's wife, and live with him at 50, Elliot's Road, St. George's Road—the prisoner lodged with us for about four weeks—on the night of the 7th May he went out, and came back about 11. 45, wearing nothing on his head—he generally wears a round cap, similar to this; I saw it on the table on the Tuesday morning—he passed my stairs when he came in.
Cross-examined. In the morning you were quarrelling in your shirtsleeves with Mrs. Clark, and you put the cap on and went out—you had a coat on; I don't know what sort—I saw no more of you till you passed upstairs at night—I slipped out of bed and looked, and you were going upstairs—you had your hat off, that was all I noticed; I don't know if you had a coat—another lodger called a policeman in the morning when you were quarrelling—Mrs. Clark said she should be glad if you were locked up—you broke my furniture and gave me 1s. for that—you owe one week's rent—I had given you notice—I did not like you as a lodger
—I explained to my husband when he came home about calling in the police, and what a bother I had had—the second week after you were at my place you were away all day and night for five, seven, or ten days; and Mrs. Clark took your dinner at nine o'clock every morning; she said you were at work—I don't think you had been home very long when you were taken into custody on the present charge.
ALFRED MATCHEM . I am a surgeon, at 116, St. George's Road, Southwark—some few days after his first appearance at the Police-court, Mr. Freeman came to me, and I examined him—he was in a very nervous state, shaking very much; his right thumb was bruised—he had a severe bruise extending above and below the left elbow joint, below to the wrist, and above to the shoulder—he was also bruised about the left hip on the outer side of the leg, and he complained of stiffness all down that side—he was suffering very considerably, too, from shock—his injuries were severe, not dangerous—an ordinary fall would not cause such injuries; a fall with violence would; a blow on the ear, and being knocked or dragged down would cause them—a tear with a nail would have caused the injury on the wrist—the skin was quite off the inner side of the right thumb—the back of the hand and wrist were slightly swollen—the thumb is swollen to this day.
Cross-examined. I had attended him before—I am his medical man—I believe he said ho had been assaulted—I should probably have asked him how he met with the injuries—he did hot ask me to go to the station—it is the usual practice with medical men to attend before the Magistrate when the case comes on of a person who has been knocked about and has come to us—I should say the injuries could have been caused by a person coming violently in contact with the ground—he said nothing, I believe, beyond that he had been assaulted.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Police Sergeant L). I and Thorley arrested the prisoner on morning of 9th May in bed, at 50, Elliot's Road—I said, "You will be charged with assaulting an old man and stealing a portion of his chain in Garden Row, at 11 15 p. m., on the night of the 7th"—he said, "God blind me, I was not out on Tuesday night"—I said, "The man who was assaulted brought a cap to the station similar to the one I have seen you wear, which he took from the man who assaulted him"—he said, "I must have been drunk, for I do not know what I did"—on the way to Southwark Police-court he said, "Can you arrange it with the Magistrate not to send me for trial, as I am starving, and must do something for a living?"—I said that would be for the Magistrate to decide—I knew him by sight before—he generally wore this cap or one similar to it—I have never seen him wear any other.
Cross-examined. The little girl picked you out of twelve or thirteen men—within the fortnight before your arrest I had seen you loitering in the neighbourhood of the Alfred's Head—you were there from 30th April to 9th May, when you were arrested—I told you the whole of the charge when you were in bed—I said to the little girl, "Don't be afraid, and go and touch him"—I tried the cap on at the station; it fitted you—either I or Thorley or the Inspector first saw the blood on the cap—I said, "There is some blood inside the cap"—I did not say to the prosecutor, "That is from your cut finger"—we charged you first on suspicion, and had you identified afterwards, after the remand, when I made inquiries, and I got the little girl and boy who saw the assault—they left a note at the
barber's shop where I go, and I called and got their statements—I don't know how they came to know where to leave the note—the girl said, "That is the man, to the best of my belief"—you made no reply when charged—I saw you prior to the 30th April—I should not like to mention where Q. "During the time you saw me loitering outside the Alfred's Head I can prove I was undergoing remand for a very trivial offence, and that I was acquitted without a stain on my character. "A. The prosecutor said you came behind him and struck at him—I cannot remember if he said you struck and kicked him when on the ground.
JOHN THORLEY (Detective Police L). I went with Williamson, and arrested the prisoner on 9th May at 50, Elliot's Road—he was in bed—Williamson told him the charge—he said, "God blind me, I was not out that night"—he afterwards said, "Then I must have been drunk"—he dressed himself, and we took him to the station in a cab—at the station I attempted to put the cap on the prisoner; he became very violent—I put it on with another constable's assistance, and it fitted him—I have known him before; I have never seen him with any cap but one of this description.
Cross-examined. I had seen you within about a fortnight of this about the Elephant and Castle—I won't swear this is the same cap I had seen you wearing before—I knew nothing wrong against you previous to this charge; you were not cautioned when we arrested you; it is not required of us to do so—we told you we were police officers—I did not hear you ask if we could get the Magistrate to settle it at once—you told me you were starving, and had to do something for a living—you were picked out of about thirteen men—I believe the little girl said she picked your cap up.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he was drunk and went to see a man, and finding him out he took off his coat and cap and lay down; that he afterwards called at a public-house and saw the man, and then got home at 11. 45 in his shirt sleeves, and that he knew nothing of this robbery.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony in August, 1886, in the name of Thomas Clark.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat. The COURT and JURY commended the conduct of the police officers.
598. HENRY PRINGLE* (28) , to forging and uttering the endorsement to a cheque with intent to defraud; also to stealing a security for £7 5s. of Frank Simmons, his master.— Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
600. JAMES WILLIAMS (48) ,** to uttering a cheque for £13, and also to a previous conviction; ARTHUR JOSEPH LITTLE (22) , to uttering a cheque for £12 10s., and also to a conviction at this Court in March, 1888; and FANNY WILMOT (25) , to uttering two cheques, each for £12 10s. The police stated that Wilmot had given them information, in consequence of which the other prisoners had been arrested. WILMOT— Discharged on her husband's recognisances. WILLIAMS— Five Years' Penal Servitude. LITTLE— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. GILL Prosecuted. GUILTY** of indecent assault. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. MEAD and BYLES Prosecuted; MR. LAWLESS Defended. WILLIAM HENRY CHANDLER. I am storekeeper at Her Majesty's Prison, Wandsworth—the prisoner has been a warder there about twenty two years in Her Majesty's service—for the last nine years he has been reception warder—it was his duty to receive prisoners when they came into gaol—a book, called the prisoners' property book, is kept, in which is entered the property and money each prisoner brings into gaol, and it is the duty of the warder on duty to require each prisoner to sign the description of his properly and the amount of his money—in addition to that there is a paper called the prisoners' record, in which there is an entry of the money brought in—it was the prisoner's duty to bring me the prisoners' property book every day about eleven a. m., and I checked his adding up of the money received from the prisoners the previous day; if it is correct I initial it, and enter the total in my cash-book, and require him to give me the amount—when prisoners are discharged they are entitled to gratuities according to the work they have done; an account of the marks returned is kept in the chief wardens office—the reception warder has nothing to do with it—the gratuity-sheets are not prepared under my superintendence—on the day previous to a prisoner's discharge I give Batchelor a certain sum to pay next morning—he gave me about the amount he should require from his rough list which he brought me—I gave him sufficient to cover the prisoners' money and gratuities—he would learn the amount from the clerk's office, and then calculate the gratuities and enter it on a slip of paper before he came to me—he made out the entire gratuity-sheet on which would appear the date, the prisoner's number and his name, his private money, his gratuity, and his signature—when prisoners are discharged they are required to sign the prisoners' property-book again—there are two columns, one for signing on reception, the other on discharge—on going out a prisoner's attention is called to the book rather with regard to property than money; he would go to the reception warder's desk and receive the gratuity and private money due to him—if he can write he is required to sign against the entry, and if he cannot to put his mark—it is the prisoner's duty to witness the marks, and sign his name in the place marked "Witness for the marks"—prisoners are discharged at 8. 30, and the prisoner would come to me the same day at eleven o'clock, and bring the gratuity-sheet and account to me for the amount paid out that morning, giving me the balance—the gratuity-sheets are checked three or four times a month with the prisoners pay-book—here is" 7241, William Young"; he would trace out his name in the property-book, find his name, and pass it, and initial the property-book—to avoid that check it was necessary to alter the prisoners' property-book to make it agree with the gratuity-sheet—on April 1st each year there is a more extensive check for prisoners' money; three clerks do it; each record is
got out, and the amount taken down by each one; it is totalled, and the amount due to prisoners, which my cash-book shows, should agree with the amount on the records—my cash-book is compared with the prisoners' property-book once a month—the individual amounts are not put down in my cash-book, only the total for each day—I do not know whose writing the words "his mark" are in this entry in the prisoners' property-book: "January 5th, 1887, Young, cash received £6 1s. 6d. his mark"—the initials A. H. are Albert Hawks, the clerk—I do not know the prisoner's writing sufficiently to say—there is no attestation at the bottom of that—the total at the bottom of that page is £6 7s. 3 3/4 d., that is carried over 7s. 3 3/4 d., omitting the £6—I have initialled the 7s. 3 3/4 d.—this is also a check mark at the top of the page over, showing that I checked it as properly carried over—in my cash-book of January 5th I have 7s. 3 3/4 d. as the money given to me taken from prisoner on that day—that book remains in my custody—it would be very difficult for any person to get at it—I received 7s. 3 3/4 d. from the prisoner that day, and no more—it is not true that I received £6 7s. 3 3/4 d.—the books are checked for the previous month up to date, so that the alteration could not have been made on the prisoner's discharge—if it had been made after eighteen months the alteration would not appear—the prisoners' property-book was in Batchelor's possession—the amount he brought in on Young's record-sheet was 1s. 6d.—I cannot say in whose writing that is, as it is in figures—the sheet is in Batchelor's writing, though I cannot swear it, because I do not know enough of it—the person who makes out the sheet does not always enter the money—this is the gratuity-sheet for April 3rd, 1888; it is in Batchelor's writing—the first entry is "7241. W. Young, £6 1s. 6d. Prisoner's money, gratuity, 10s. W. Young, his mark"—that is in Batchelor's writing, and at the bottom here is "Witness for the above, H. Batchelor, "in Batchelor's writing—this £1 18s. is the total amount of gratuities—I have an entry of the amount I gave the prisoner—in anticipation of that he gives me a receipt for it, and when it is done with next day it is torn up—I know that I gave the amount necessary to Batchelor the day before, and it would be sufficient to have included the £6 in addition, to the 18d.—he showed me this gratuity-sheet on the same day that it was paid out, and accounted for the balance of the money, supposing he had not spent it all—he represented that he had spent £7 15s. 11 3/4 d., prisoners' money, and £1 18s. for gratuities, including Young's £6 and 18d.—on 10th January, 1887, I found in the prisoners' property-book, "Duckett, £5 0s. 0 1/2 d."—the total at the bottom of the page is £6 13s. 3 3/4 d.; that finishes it—it is signed by Duckett, both going in and coming out—I find by the cash-book that Batchelor paid me £1 13s. 3 3/4 d. that day, so that the £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. would not have been included—I added up the prisoners' property-book, and at that time it was correct, and I entered £1 13s. 3 3/4 d. in my book—this is Duckett's record-sheet; the entry on the prisoner's record-sheet is £5 0s. 0 1/2 d.—this (produced) is one of the sheets the prisoner used to bring when he told me the amount he required, and I find entered against each prisoner the amount to which he was entitled—against the top entry," 7333 Duckett, "I find no entry at all—on the gratuity-sheet in Duckett's case I find "Prisoner's money £5 0s. 0 1/2 d., and 10s. gratuity, signed 'T. A. Duckett'"—Batchelor was the reception
warder, who drew sufficient money for the prisoner, to be discharged on July 9th, and that was sufficient to cover the £5 0s. 0 1/2 d—on 9th July he brought me the gratuity-sheet, and accounted for the money he had paid, and gave me the balance, which included Duckett's £5 0s. 0 1/2 d.—this gratuity-sheet is in his writing, and here is written at the bottom, "Witness for the above marks, H. Batchelor," in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. I have been engaged at the prison thirty-three years—Batchelor had to receive prisoners as late as 10 p. m.—he received sixty or seventy prisoners a day, in batches; he had to take down a minute description of them—he had two assistants, and he might have other help—Rowan is a warder; he sometimes initialled the prisoners' property book—"P. R." opposite Duckett's name stands for Rowan—my office is a long way from the reception-room, and from the stores—Duckett was employed in the store; that is down in the basement—the reception-room is in a distinct building—these frauds were only discovered this year—I do not know that up to that time these books were, left lying about the reception-room, or whether they were kept locked up; I know they should be; it is not my business to look after them—I balance my private cash-book nearly every day; I never let a week elapse; I always do it myself when on duty—I am sometimes away three weeks, on leave, and during that time the chief clerk would look after my books—there are six clerks—Batchelor's wages were 28s. a week—when a prisoner was going to be discharged Batchelor brought the rough list and told me the amount; I never looked at it—he would tell me what gratuities the prisoners were entitled to—I should not know or inquire their names; I should not give him £50 if he asked for it; but unless it was some very large sum I should not check it, I could not—I could ask him the prisoners' names, but it would be no use for my cash-book; it has been tested since by the prisoners' record—the total receipt of each day is entered in my cash-book, but no prisoners' names—prisoners are discharged in large numbers every day—Batchelor was not in the habit of coming to my room and assisting me—I have a safe in my room, where I keep all the money, and sometimes I have large sums there—I left the room while Batchelor was there; I never missed anything—I locked the safe when I left; I should not like to say always—I gave him receipts for the sums I received day by day; they are really like I O U's, and when his account was squared they were torn in half and given to him—there used to be a balance coming to me day by day from him—he got an even number of pounds from me, and I knew whether the balance he brought back was correct by checking his totals—he was responsible for all the property brought in by-prisoners—when he was absent one of the assistant warders took his duty, and there are other initials—I think each prisoner on leaving goes before the governor, who asks him if he has received his correct amount—the store-room is in the basement, and the storekeeper's office is upstairs—I do not remember the prisoner demanding as large a sum as £335 of me, but sometimes we have large sums going out—I checked them by looking at the record—I should not give him a large sum of money the day before, it would be locked up till morning—if any man was going out with £10 I should do so.
By the COURT. I had no holiday in April or July last year—I was on duty.
Re-examined. I was on duty on 5th January when Young came in—the
entry is in my writing in the cash-book, and on 10th January, when Duckett was brought in, and on 3rd April when Young went out, and on 9th July when Duckett went out.
By the JURY. I account to the governor—he pays out all money through me, and I act as storekeeper for him—all money, though in my safe, is supposed to be in his possession—he calls on me three or four times a month to produce my cash-book, and examines the balance of money in the prison box, comparing that with his bank-book and my cash-book, to see that the balance of the cash-box agrees with the cash-book.
PATRICK ROWAN . I am assistant warder at Wandsworth Prison—my duty is to assist Mr. Chandler or to act in his absence—I have heard his evidence as to receiving prisoners and discharging them; it is correct—the entries in the prisoners' property-book for January 5th, 1887, are, some in my writing and some in the prisoner's—Young's entry is in the prisoner's writing—I did not enter £6 1s. 6d. there—if the prisoner says that one of the assistant warders made that entry that is not true, as far as I am concerned; I neither made the original entry, 1s. 6d., nor have I altered it since to £6 1s. 6d.—the rest of the entry on his reception is in Pink's writing, and this is my signature on his discharge—that refers to the property, not to the man; the prisoner would pay the money on discharge, and he would have the sheet before him, which the prisoner going out would have to sign as a receipt for the money—this is the signature, H. B., at the bottom of the page—this £4 7s. 3 3/4 d. is not my writing, nor is the total in the next page mine, or made with my knowledge—I see 1s. 6d. entered in Young's record-sheet; that is the prisoner's writing, and Young's gratuity-sheet also, as near as I can say—I did not make the entry, "7241 W. Young, £6 1s. 6d.;" this is the prisoner's writing, "H. Batchelor, witness of the private marks"—this entry, on 10th January, in the prisoners' property-book, with regard to Duckett, is mine; but the figures £5 0s. 0 1/2 d., are not mine—the total, £6 13s. 3 3/4 d., is not in my figures—it was not my duty to add up the columns, it was the prisoner's duty—six prisoners are told off to clean each day in different places, there is always a warder with them, and if I was on duty a prisoner could not leave his work of cleaning and go to the books and make an alteration without being seen; but sometimes they are in separate rooms, with only one warder to mind the six—the prisoners have nothing to do with receiving money.
Cross-examined. I have seen eighty prisoners received in one day—the prisoner was away twice for seven days—when he was away it was my duty to tot up the total—they are not all his figures—this 1164 is my entry; I took down the description—I will not swear that this £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. are the prisoner's figures—I should say that he was on duty when Duckett was discharged, by the gratuity-sheet—I do not swear that the totals are his figures—men are selected for making up bundles of the prisoners' clothes—this book does not lie on the desk without an officer being present—prisoners are received in one room and this book is in another, and they would only come into that room one at a time, but they are in large numbers in the outer room, and are brought in one by one—the book is more carefully locked up now than it used to be—there are two rooms opening off one another in the reception department', where the prisoners are received and where the book is kept—they passed in and out of that room,
GEORGE PINK . I am assistant warder at Wandsworth—I assist Batchelor—against Young's name in the prisoners' property-book I see £6 1s. 6d.—I have nothing to do with making that entry—the total is £6 7s. 3 3/4 d.—I had nothing to do with that—on 10th January I see Duckett's entry of £5 0s. 0 1/2 d.—I had nothing to do with this, nor did I enter the total, £6 13s. 3 3/4 d.—I had no knowledge of the entry on 3rd April of £6 1s. 6d. in the gratuity-sheet, or of this £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. against Duckett's name.
Cross-examined. I made some of the figures in these books—I can pick out my own figures—two rooms open into the room in which the book was kept—it was kept in a cupboard in one of them when it was not in use, and that cupboard was always locked—the book was locked up when it was done with at 10 p. m.—it was on the desk in the daytime, there is never an officer out of the room for a moment to my knowledge—I have seen twenty prisoners received at one time—they occasionally talk together while they are waiting; they wait till the principal officer arrives, but there is always an officer there—when Batchelor or Rowan was not there, it was always my duty to look after the book and enter the figures—six prisoners were sent to that room for cleaning purposes—the governor would not put a prisoner who could read and write to assist me—he would only send six men for cleaning purposes, and one officer to look after them.
Re-examined. It was not my duty to look after the educational capacity of the persons who did the cleaning—the man who entered the money would enter the prisoner's name—I should always have my writing to guide me even if I did not know my own figures—if Batchelor was away, it was never his subordinate's duty to add up the figures.
DANIEL GOFF . I did not enter in the prisoners' property-book this, u Young, £6 1s. 6d.," on 5th January, 1887, nor was it entered with my knowledge—this £6 7s. 0 3/4 d. is not my writing, nor is the next page, where the total is repeated—this £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. on January 10th is not my writing; nor is the total £6 13s. 3 1/4 d.; nor is this £6 1s. 6d. against Young's name in the gratuity-sheet of April 3rd; nor this £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. against Duckett's name.
Cross-examined. I have been there as warder nine years and four months—the Solicitor to the Treasury has called my attention to these items, and taken my evidence—I can put my finger on every entry which I have made in this book—I have never made any totals in it; but I have in the book for 1889—I do not know whether this book used to be left lying about in the reception-room in 1887 and 1888—mine is evening duty from six to ten; the book would then be in the room—Assistant Warder Norton would also have the management of that book.
JAMES NORTON . I am a warder—I had not access to this book—I am sometimes sent into the reception room between six and ten to help, but not always—there is none of my writing with reference to these entries, nor is the total mine—I never had anything to do with the gratuity sheets.
Cross-examined. I am not a reception warder; this book used to lie on the desk—I know that there are charges of fraud as to all these items.
compared all the names with the property-book, and find in every case that the amount of money is put against the name—the exception is Duckett, £7 3s. 3d.—in the pay-book it is £5 0s. 0 1/2 d., and in the rough sheet there is no entry—the register numbers are made out two days before.
WILLIAM YOUNG . I was sentenced to fifteen months' hard labour in January, 1887, and I have done it in Wandsworth Prison—when I arrived I was taken to the reception warder, Batchelor, who took down in a book a list of the money and property I had on me—I had 1s. 6d.—I did not put a mark against it when it was put down—I did not go to the desk—I told Batchelor I could not write, and I expect he made the mark; it is not true that I had £6 1s. 6d.—I wish I had, and I should not be here now—I earned 10s. in the gaol—I was discharged on April 3rd, 1888—I was taken to the reception-room again, and received 1s. 6d.—there were about forty men there, and four or five of them were talking—I received 10s. afterwards—there is no truth in the suggestion that I got £6 1s. 6d.
Cross-examined. There was a great deal of confusion—another man was called after me; I don't know what he got—Rowan was helping the prisoner—sometimes prisoners recognise one another in the reception ward, and we find out when our time comes—we get a little talk sometimes, but it is dumb show generally—I saw the prisoner go out of the room for a minute or two, and we were all left in the room without any warder—the last time I went in about seventy prisoners went in along with me—when we leave the gaol the governor asks us if we have got our money all right, but he does not ask the amount—I have been in prison several times—I have been in Her Majesty's service both in England and America—I was in a regiment—I am now awaiting my trial at Guildford—I could not get a job, so I had to get one somehow.
THOMAS ATKINSON DUCKETT . In January, 1887, I was sentenced to eighteen months' hard labour—I went to Wandsworth Prison—I was taken to the reception-room, but the reception warder was not there—my articles were all taken from me—I cannot say whether I had any money, but I think I had 9d.—I am certain I had not £5—what I had was entered in a book, which I signed—when I went out I received from the prisoner my articles and 10s. which I had earned—I signed the book against the 10s.—I am quite sure there was not an entry of £5 0s. 0 1/2 d. against my name.
Cross-examined. I think I can swear that I did not ever receive 9d., but I was so joyed at coming out—there were a good many prisoners there getting paid, and getting their things back—that was not the first time I was in prison, but not there—I am earning an honest livelihood now.
Re-examined. The prisoners are paid off in turns; there was no confusion at the desk.
ALFRED ROWAN (Detective Officer V). On the morning of 29th April I went to Wandsworth Prison, and the governor gave the prisoner into my custody for falsifying the accounts to the amount of £40, and drew his attention to two entries in the prisoners' property-book—he said, "Other warders have access to the books, and may have altered the figures; I know nothing about it"—he repeated that at the station.
Cross-examined. When he was charged he said that plenty of people had access to the books.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury, on account of his long service; and the Jury stated that they wished to condemn the system of bookkeeping, and considered it very wrong that the same man should have the receiving of the money and paying it away. — Eight Months' Hard Labour.—There were two other indictments against the prisoner.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 29TH, 1889.