CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 10TH, 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, September 16th, 1889, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JAMES WHITEHEAD, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARTHUR CHARLES , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's high Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., and WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the City; Sir HENRY AARON ISAACS , Knt., STUART KNILL , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., and HORATIO DAVIES , Esq., other of the Aldormen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Centrol Criminal Court.
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
WHITEHEAD, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two start (**) 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, September 16th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
THE following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY—
672. DAVID BARRY (23) , to stealing a portmanteau and other articles, the goods of the Great Eastern Railway Company; also to a conviction of felony in April, 1888.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
673. HENRY MARSHALL (35) , to stealing a watch from the person of George Syneston Green; also to a previous conviction of felony at Chester, in April, 1880, in the name of William Smith.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
674. HERBERT CHARLES EPPS (22) , to stealing a post letter and its contents, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
675. JOHN ARTHUR O'LEARY (33) , stealing a post letter and £2 2s. 1d., the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour , [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
676. FRANK HENRY TAPSELL (22) , to two indictments for stealing post letters containing Postal Orders, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office, and to two other indictments for forging and uttering receipts for the payment of Postal Orders.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
677. CHARLES WILLIAM CARPENTER (27) , to stealing a post letter containing Postal Orders, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
678. THOMAS SAUNDERS (25) , to stealing a post parcel containing two coats and a waistcoat, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
680. WILLIAM WILLIAMS (47) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Ware, and stealing twelve spoons and other articles; also to a previous conviction in December, 1887, at this Court.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
For other Cases this day, see Surrey Cases.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 16th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
UZZIAH SIMS . I manage the Crown public-house, Stanhope Street—on September 1st I served the prisoner with a quartern of rum, price 2 1/2 d.—she gave me a shilling—the barman tried it, broke it, and handed the three pieces to her, and said, "Are you aware this is bad money?"—she said, "No, I am not; my governor paid it to me in Covent Garden Market on Saturday"—I asked her to give me a good one, which she did, and took the three pieces away—next day, Monday, the barman called me, and gave me a bad florin—the prisoner was there—I asked her how she came by it—she said she could not account for it—I gave her in custody—the constable showed me three pieces of a broken shilling, which were the same as my barman broke the night before—this is the florin (produced)—the constable broke it in my presence—the prisoner said she was not aware it was had; she had no more.
HENRY HILTON . I am barman at the Crown—on Monday, September 2nd, I served the prisoner with a quartern of rum—she gave me a florin—I put it in the till, and gave her the change—one of the "chaps" said something, and she was given in charge—she said she did not know it was bad—I was not in the bar on the Sunday evening.
ANNIE ELLIS . I am female searcher at Bow Street Station—I searched the prisoner on September 2nd, and found a half-sovereign, 7s. 6d. in silver, and 1s. 6 1/2 d. in bronze in a purse, and in a piece of old newspaper six counterfeit florins, and in a separate piece of paper three bad shillings and one broken shilling in paper—the paper was not between the coins—she said that the coins were not bad.
HENRY HILL (Policeman). The prisoner was given into my custody at the Crown public-house, and the manager gave me this broken florin—at the station the female searcher handed me six florins, three shillings, and three pieces of a broken shilling.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was not aware the money was bad. On Saturday, 31st August, I met a gentleman, and went for a walk with him. He gave me this money as a present."
Prisoner's Defence, A gentleman gave me the money in a piece of paper—I put it in my pocket, and had no idea it was bad.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 17th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GILL Prosecuted,
ARTHUR CHUDLEIGH . I am one of the proprietors of the Court Theatre—we had in our employment a man named Julius Wadwicz as box-office keeper until the 1st July—at that time I was, with the assistance of an accountant, making inquiry into the state of the accounts—on 2nd July, among the documents returned from the bank, I found a cheque for £30, drawn by Clotilde and Co., returned unpaid—it had been put in apparently as part of the takings—I made some inquiry with regard to it, and, as the result, on 3rd July I saw the prisoner at a place in the Fulham Road, where some millinery business was apparently carried on—I asked him the meaning of that cheque being returned—he said he had given it to Wadwicz to help him out of a difficulty; he was very sorry it had come into my hands so soon, because Wadwicz had promised to keep it back for ten days—I asked him if he knew Wadwicz—he said, "Very slightly"—I said, "Then what made you give a man a cheque for £30, knowing him so very slightly?"—he then said he had known him at the old theatre for some time—I asked him for the money—he said he had not got the money at the bank, but he would obtain it and pay it by four in the afternoon—not receiving the money, I went next morning with my solicitor, and told him that unless the money was paid I should give him into custody—he said he had not anything like the sum to meet the cheque for £30 at the time he drew it—I have never received the £30—I made further inquiries, and communicated with other persons who had received cheques, and as a result I obtained a warrant for the arrest of the prisoner, and Wadwicz—Wadwicz has never been found.
ELLEN PHELPS . I am employed by Messrs. Stone, wine merchants, Panton Street, Haymarket—on Tuesday evening, 2nd July, between six and seven, the prisoner came in with some other men—one of them asked me to change a cheque for £10—the prisoner said that man was the manager from the Court Theatre—I did not know the man by sight; I had seen the prisoner at the house as a customer—I said I had not got £10, so the prisoner wrote a cheque for £5—this (produced) is it; and the manager endorsed it; this was all done in my presence—I thereupon gave change for it—I believed it was a good cheque; it was paid into the bank, and it came back "refer to drawer" (The cheque was dated 2nd July, payable to. M. Wadwicz, signed Clotilde and Co.)
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had seen you in Panton Street once before, in the bar—that was not a year before; you were with a lady at the time—Wadwicz asked me to cash the cheque—you were by the side, of him in the passage leading to the coffee-room—I did not hear him ask you to draw a cheque—you said he was the manager of the theatre, not the manager of the box-office—you were quite sober; I knew you as a customer at the Pall Mall before I went to Panton Street.
WILLIAM LAWRENCE . I am a fishmonger, at 180, Sloane Street, near the Court Theatre—On Tuesday, 2nd July, between four and five in the afternoon Wadwicz came to my shop, accompanied by the prisoner—he asked if I would give him change for a £10 cheque—I said at first I thought I had not enough, but I found I had, and I took it to them to a
public-house a few doors up, and gave them the money, a £5 note and £5 in gold; they were both together in the bar; one knew what the other did—the cheque was handed to me in the public-house by Wadwicz—this (produced) is it—my name is on the back of it—I had twopenny worth of gin with them—they wanted me to have a bottle of champagne; I did not have it—I paid the cheque in to the London and County, and it came back dishonoured—I certainly believed the cheque to be genuine.
Cross-examined. I had never seen you before to my knowledge—you drove up together to my door in a gig—Wadwicz got down from the gig, and came in—I don't suppose that you in the gig could hear what was said—I had known Wadwicz about five years—I don't remember your speaking to me—I think Wadwicz asked you to have something to drink—you must have heard the conversation afterwards; we were not more than a foot and a half from you.
GEORGE FINNEY . I have business premises at 175, Dashwood Street, City—I know Wadwicz, and have seen him at the Court Theatre—on 3rd July, about one in the day, he called on me and asked me to cash a cheque for £15—I said, "No"—he afterwards asked if I would cash a cheque for £10—I said, "No"—he then said would I cash one for £5?—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I have a friend in the trap below, who will draw the cheque"—he then went down for a few minutes, and then came back, and gave me this cheque, for which I gave him a £5 note—I paid the cheque in, and it came back in its present state—I have never had my £5.
Cross-examined. I never saw you before I saw you at the Westminster Police-court.
GEORGE PEARCE . I am a clerk in the Imperial Bank, Limited; the, South Kensington branch—the prisoner had an account there in the name of Clotilde and Co.; the account was opened on 24th May this year, by paying in a sum of £15; he has never and a larger balance than that—subsequently several small amounts were paid in, £14, £10, and several £5—the last cheque of his that was paid was on the 25th June—on the 28th we debited 7s. 6d. on account of commission, which brought his balance to 2s. 8d.—on 4th July we sent him a letter, enclosing 2s; 8d., to close the account—from 4th June to 5th July fourteen cheques were presented, amounting to £222 19s. 6d., all of which were dishonoured.
Cross-examined. You were carrying on a large business as a lady's outfitter as Clotilde and Co.
FREDERICK CHURCH (Police Sergeant B). On 8th July I received a warrant for the arrest of the prisoner and Wadwicz—on the 15th I arrested the prisoner at 327, Fulham Road; I read the warrant to him—he said, "I don't know about conspiring together; Wadwicz told me he was short of his cash at the theatre, and asked me to let him have a cheque; I gave him one, which he said he could get cashed; I asked him not to pay it into the bank for a week, but he must have paid it in directly"—at that time I did not know anything of the cheque to Mrs. Phelps; I knew about Lawrence and Finney—at the Police-court he said, "Wadwicz told me he had written to Mr. Lawrence, but I know nothing about Mr. Finney."
Cross-examined. I have received no communication from you or from your wife—I was sent to a house where Wadwicz was supposed to be, but I had been keeping observation on the house before—you told me at the Police-court you did not know where you left him.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that having known Wadwicz for some years, he gave him the cheques to help him out of his difficulties, and that he had arranged with another gentleman to be security for him in order to obtain a loan to meet the advances.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended.
MR. FULTON offered no evidence against Jolly.
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES STANLEY CHAMPION CRESPIONY . I live at 27, St. Mary's Terrace, paddington—this letter marked A is in Jolly's handwriting, with the exception of two corrections, the "h" in the word "Rahgib" and "sub" before "scribes," which, to the best of my belief, are in Snyder's handwriting—I know his handwriting well—I received this letter "B" enclosed in "A"—both letters were enclosed to me under cover to my solicitor, Dr. Clift, Fancras Lane—I received them—I believe the envelope, which I fancy I destroyed, was in Jolly's handwriting—at the beginning of July Mr. Williams's solicitor asked me to hand over such letters as I had of Mr. Snyder, and I handed these over with a bundle of others (The letter in question contained the following passage:—"I am acquainted with Mr. Williams, and am more or less acquainted with his methods, and being desirous that his Imperial (the Sultan's) Majesty's Government should not be swindled, I think it my duty, & co.")
Cross-examined. I called at Dr. Cift's office for this letter—I became acquainted with Mr. Williams in 1885—I then procured money from him to give to Snyder—Williams then informed me he had entered into a contract with Snyder, by which he had acquired control of Snyder's business, and I was helping Williams to raise money to float a company—I think it was in 1886 that I ceased to have business communications with Williams, and co-operated with Snyder alone—at that time a mutual friend of mine and Snyder came and informed me that Williams had no contract with Snyder, and made certain statements that were false, and induced me to go to Constantinople with Snyder to try and negotiate with the Turkish Government, because I had knowledge of French, and so on—I went out to Constantinople in 1886 to assist Snyder at the request of a friend—I had then broken off my connection and communication for the time being with Mr. Williams—I assisted Snyder as secretary, doing some letter-writing and so forth—while I was there he made me in all respects his confidant, so that I knew all that was going on between him and the Turkish officials—in March, 1887, my business was finished with Snyder, and when I was leaving Constantinople to come back to England, Snyder asked me to try and get certain moneys for him—a friend was endeavouring to raise money for him, and he did not answer Snyder's letters, and Snyder was urging me to press him to attend to his request—I was in Snyder's employment from the time I went out to the time I came back, and after that I did what I did as a matter of grace and friendship—when I say I was in his employment, I had no salary, but I was to have all my expenses, and in the event of Snyder making a profit I was to have £1,000; I was interested in his success—I did not think this letter was a confidential
communication—I thought he wanted to get more money; he had already had many thousands—he wanted me to assist him in getting it—I thought I was intended to show the letter to the gentleman from whom Snyder intended to get the £500—after the date of this letter he has not continued to assist me with money; on the contrary, he borrowed small sums of me when he returned to England; I consider he owes me money—after my return to England from Constantinople he did not assist me with various sums of money from time to time—to the best of my recollection I never had money from him from the time I returned to England—I applied for money, I did not get it—I did not apply to his daughter to get money from her—I wrote this letter to her—I nave had certain sums advanced to me by Snyder in addition to my expenses, but they were not borrowed—I had about £30 altogether before I left for Constantinople—he advanced me £10, which he afterwards said was money of his daughter, and he got his daughter afterwards to write and dun me for it—I have not paid her, nor him—I consider he is in my debt very heavily—I believe I introduced Mr. Williams to his present solicitors, Elwes and Sharp, about February or March this year—I did not volunteer to give him the letter of March with the enclosure—I did not tell Mr. Williams first that I had these letters; I took them to Mr. Elwes in a bundle, with other letters—I did not know they were there, they had gone out of my mind—I met Snyder from time to time up to last February or March, I should think—about the time that he sold his invention to a London company I took Williams to Elwes and Sharp—since that date I have been doing my utmost to assist Mr. Williams as against the prisoner—I gave up the letter in a bundle of others written by the prisoner—the solicitors have them—I had kept the letter from March, 1887, till I handed it over to Elwes and Sharp in a bag containing hundreds and hundreds of letters from various people—I sorted out the prisoner's letters, as the solicitors told me to bring them all—I handed over twenty or thirty, I think—I simply picked them out by the writing, took them to the solicitors, and went through them there—I left off having communication with the prisoner, and assisted Mr. Williams because I was deliberately informed by the prisoner and the mutual friend I have referred to that Williams had treated him very badly, that there was no agreement between them, and that I had been humbugged by Mr. Williams, and so on—I found that from beginning to end it was a tissue of untruth, and that Williams had been badly treated by the prisoner, and I went and worked for Mr. Williams—I did not know at the time that Williams was going to bring an action against the prisoner with regard to this dynamite—since that time I have done my utmost to assist Mr. Williams as against Snyder—it is false that I went to Mr. Williams because the prisoner asked for the return of considerable sums which he had advanced.
Re-examined. At a subsequent period an action was commenced by Mr. Williams against the prisoner in connection with the company—in view of an affidavit of documents I was asked to look out all the prisoner's and Jolly's letters, and I did so—until the letters were examined at Elwes and Smith's, I think I had not read any portion of the two letters in question, and I had absolutely forgotten them—before going to Constantinople £20 was paid me, and £10 the prisoner afterwards got his daughter to write to me for it was not handed to me—I had £30,
including this £10—after I received it the prisoner told me the £10 had been left with his daughter—I knew it came from a friend for the business—£20 was spent in going to Constantinople; the other £10 I asked him to advance to my solicitor, who had previously advanced him £65—when I received this letter I had no business relations with the prisoner beyond casually meeting and talking to him.
By the COURT. There were negotiations with the Turkish Government about the invention—the Sultan, while I was there, allowed the prisoner to make a firing on the Dardanelles by way of experiment, and on the strength of that the prisoner sold the invention to a company here, which is still in existence—I understood Mr. Williams had entered into certain contracts with the Turkish Government—things had been arranged when the prisoner upset them; then Mr. Williams made a claim on the Turkish Government, in which he was supported by the American Legation, and the Turkish Government offered Williams a certain sum for damages—I believe that was not paid—it is absolutely false that I have acted out of revenge, and because I was pressed by the prisoner for money lent; on the contrary, I was asked by the prisoner to send in a written claim for my services, and it would be satisfied; but I did not do it—I was satisfied that statements made by the prisoner against Mr. Williams were without foundation, and that Williams had some grievances against the prisoner and some claim against him—the civil action is pending.
GUILTY .— Fined 1s.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended Cronin.
LUCY PARTRIDGE . I am single, and live at 125, Commercial Road, Peckham—about ten o'clock on the night of 5th August I was walking in Southampton Street, Strand, by the Covent Garden Hotel, when a man came from behind and caught hold of me by the throat with one hand and undid two buttons of my dress with the other, and tried to steal my watch and chain, which I was wearing as I am now—I screamed as hard as I could, then another man put his hand over my mouth to prevent me from screaming—I caught hold of the railings and struggled as well as I could, and I became insensible for a few minutes, they had hold of my throat so tightly—I saw four men running away—I was taken into a house opposite, and from there I went to the Police-station—after I had been there a few minutes Carter was brought in—I cannot identify either of the men who had assaulted me.
JAMES PHILLIPS . I am a labourer—on the night of 5th August I was in Covent Garden, and my attention was attracted by hearing a lady scream—looking towards the place where the lady screamed I saw the prisoners running away—I could identify both of them—I had not seen Cronin before, but I had seen Carter on that night about the same place—I saw Solomon knock Carter's hat off—I picked it up, and gave it to Constable 128—on 12th August I was shown several men at the Police-station, and I picked out Cronin from them.
Cross-examined by Carter. I brought this hat up the day afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. Some of the men he was placed with were his own height, and some were bigger; one was dressed something similar to him—I walked down the line once, and had a good look
—the prisoner was standing third from the last man—I walked to him, and put my hand on him—eight men were in the line—I looked at the others carefully till I came to him—I had never had any conversation with the prisoner—I was about four yards away when this occurred—it all took place very quickly—I had only soon Cronin once before; he was dressed as ho is now and at the Police-court—I gave a description of his dress to the police in the morning before I identified Cronin.
Re-examined, I am sure he is the man.
SAMUEL SOLOMON . I am a sailor—on night 5th August I was standing outside Covent Garden Hotel—I saw the prosecutor pass by, and saw the prisoners and another man standing together—when she had passed they said, "Now is the best time; now go"—Carter then put his hands round the lady's throat and on her breast, and tried to get the watch and chain—the young woman screamed—I ran up to where they were, and the men ran away—I tried to knock Carter down, but I succeeded in knocking his hat off—I saw Sergeant Orr come up and arrest him, when I saw him struggling with a policeman—two days afterwards I saw the hat I had knocked off at the police-court—the next night I saw Cronin at the station among other men, and picked him out.
Cross-examined by Carter. I was quite near you—I did not pick your hat up, because I did not want to lose sight of you—I did not say at the station it was somebody else's hat.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I saw the prisoners run up to the lady—I was two yards off—this was done very quickly—I had seen Cronin and Carter several times before in company—I never spoke to them.
HENRY RICHARDSON (Policeman E 128). A little after ten on this night I was on duty, and heard cries of murder—I went into Tavistock-Street, and from what was said I went down Catherine Street, where I saw Carter running towards me without a hat—when he saw me he stopped—I said, "What is the matter?"—he said, "I have been having a fight with a man, and I am running away"—I said, "You will have to come back with me"—he hit me across the head and kicked me—I got him to the station with assistance—he said nothing about his hat—I had hold of him when he struck mo—on 8th August I was with a sergeant when we both saw Cronin—I said to him, "I want you, Nobby"—he said, "Blind me, governor, I was not with Bunny on Monday night"—Monday night was the night of the robbery—Carter is known by the name of Bunny—he said that before he was told what ho would be charged with—I told him I should take him for being concerned in the robbery with Bunny—I was present at the station whom he was identified.
Cross-examined by Carter. You stopped running as soon as you aw me—you were running through Exeter Street, which loads into Catherine Street—after you struck and kicked me I caught you by the throat; I had my hand on your shoulder—after you were charged you said you would admit assaulting me—I did not take you by the throat before that—when you saw the hat you said yours was made by Mr. Roberts, at Seven Dials; and his name is in this.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. Bunny had boon arrested three days whom Cronin spoke to me about Bunny—undoubtedly it was well talked about the neighbourhood.
pany with Richardson, and saw Cronin in Catherine Street—Richardson said to him, "Nobby, I want you"—he is known by that name—he was among a crowd of others; he immediately stepped forward, and said, "I hare not been with Bunny on Monday night—Bunny is Carter's nickname—he was taken to the station—I was present when he was identified.
ALFRED SHOREY (Policeman E 228). On Monday night, 5th August, about half-past nine, I was in Drury Lane, when the two prisoners and another man passed me—it was about three or four minutes' walk from the place of robbery—Kendal Street is about 300 yards off.
Cross-examined by Carter. I know you very well.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Carter says, "It is not my hat." Cronin says, "I was in a lodging-house drunk when this happened,"
(Witnesses for the Defence of Cronin.)
THOMAS CRONIN . I am a bricklayer, I lived at 11, New Church Court—Cronin is my son—on this Bank Holiday he was with me from half-mat two till a quarter or twenty minutes past nine, when I took him home the worse for liquor to a lodging-house in Kendal Street, and I aid him on a form, and he laid there till I took him up to bed, about half-past twelve—I was at the Police-court, but did not give evidence; I did not because I was not called; he had no solicitor there—I have got a witness, the deputy of the lodging-house, who was called, who saw me and my son together.
Cross-examined. He went out in the afternoon with me and some friends who came up from the country; he had a little drop, a little overcame him, he might have had more than me—I did not have as much as I could get—I saw my friends off at Paddington Station at ten past twelve that night—my son was then in the kitchen of the lodging-house on the form—I left him there, and he was not capable of moving till I came back; it might have been eleven when we took the cab to the Great Western Railway—from nine to eleven I was at sundry places—I did not give evidence at Bow Street—I knew I could if I was called on—I have never given evidence before—I thought I was not required to give evidence on account of the prisoner being let out on bail—the other man gave evidence the same day, I think—my son was out on bail at first till he came up on remand, but not since then—I brought him into the lodging-house about half-past nine, and then I went out to my friends.
Re-examined. I brought the deputy of the lodging-house to speak for my son—I had never been in Court before—I left my son drunk in the kitchen, and he was still drunk when I came back, and I helped him upstairs to bed.
DENNIS SULLIVAN . I am deputy of a lodging-house at 12, Campbell Street—on the night of Bank Holiday Cronin came there between nine and ten; I think he was the worse for drink—he was taken down to the kitchen—a great many people were tight that night—they could go in and out the kitchen without my seeing them—his father came to me about a quarter to one and said to me, "Dennis, this is my boy; give him a night's kit if he wants it"—I believe he was sober then, but I could not say.
Cross-examined. The lodging-house is about two or three minutes'
walk from Southampton Street—I did not see Carter that night—he used to lodge with me at a house before this one.
GUILTY . Cronin also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at the Middlesex Sessions in April, 1888, and other convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
CARTER— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour ,
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 17th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
687. FREDERICK SHELL (20) PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Brendell, with intent to steal, having been convicted at Clerkenwell in September, 1888.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. For Cases tried this day, see Surrey Cases.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 18th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted
JAMES BROWN (City Police Sergeant 48). On Saturday night, 3rd August, soon after eleven, the prisoner came to Snow Hill Police-station, he was perfectly sober—he made a statement which I took down—he said, "On Saturday, 13th July last, between eleven and twelve at night, I was in company with Michael Walsh, hawker, no fixed abode, who I believe to be at Brighton; by means of a false key we entered the premises, having a bottle of paraffin with us, with which we saturated some rags and papers. Walsh gave me a box of matches, and I set fire to the same; we at once left the building. Walsh gave me £5 for my part in the matter on the following morning. The reason I gave myself up was that I was told Walsh was going to round on me with a view of getting the reward"—he made another statement at the Old Jewry to Detective Dowse.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not sign the statement.
THOMAS DOWSE (City Detective). I assisted Brown in conveying the prisoner from the Old Jewry to Bridewell—he there made this statement: "About five weeks ago a man met me at Liverpool, and asked me if I would like to earn £5; I said yes; he said, 'All right, I will see you again in a day or two.' I saw him again four days afterwards, when he accompanied me to London, and I saw him from time to time until we entered the premises with a key."
Cross-examined. I asked you which way you turned when you got inside the premises—you said that Walsh gave you £5—I asked what you
did with the money, and you said you had gambled half of it and lost the other half.
THOMAS TARRANT, JUN . I am the son of Thomas Tarrant, a stationer, 6, Fetter Lane—I manage my father's business there—on Saturday, 13th July, about ten minutes past one in the day, I left the premises locked up, and secure to all appearances—Corby, my man, locked up—to my knowledge there was no paraffin on the premises—I never kept any there—I did not see the premises again till half-past eight on Monday morning—I then found the place had been on fire, and considerable damage done, to the extent of £680—these matches were handed to me two or three days afterwards—I did not see them found, and they are not the same as we use; we always use safety matches—I do not know a man named Walsh, or the prisoner.
FREDERICK WILLIAM CORBY . I am warehouseman to Mr. Tarrant—on Saturday, July 13th, about ten minutes past one, I locked up the premises safely—the front door had two locks, a small one at the top and a large one at the bottom—there was a door at the back; that was locked and padlocked—on coming to the place on Monday morning, I saw the firemen there—a lot of shavings were strewn about the place, and in the pigeon-holes—there Were one or two large cans—I did not examine them—I found some bags with varnish on them—these (produced) are a lot which I took out of the window and various parts of the shop—they had been burnt—I could not smell paraffin—the smell soon goes off—the cans did not belong to the place.
Cross-examined. There was another can—this is it (produced).
THOMAS TARRANT . I am a stationer, of 6, Fetter Lane—I am the owner of the premises—I heard of the fire on Monday morning, 15th July—I gave notice to the police and offered a reward of £50—I lost a good deal of property—I do not know the prisoner or Walsh.
Cross-examined. I never saw these three cans before—I had a painter at work there—I can't say whether he brought them there—I don't know what he had there.
GEORGE SPILLER (City Policeman 501). About five minutes to seven on Sunday night, 14th July, I was on duty at the bottom of Fetter Lane in Fleet Street, and I saw volumes of smoke coming out of 6, Fetter Lane—I went and rang the alarm and sent for the police—just as I got back I saw Jacobs burst the door open—he said he had been told that an old lady lived there—I had the door shut again—the firemen came and the fire was put out—I noticed the place was all in flames inside when I pulled the door to—there were two locks on the outer door—one was rather loose, and by Jacobs pushing the door the lock came out.
ALEXANDER JACOBS . I am a clerk, at 167, Fleet Street—on 14th July I was in Fleet Street, standing outside St. Dunstan's Church—I saw the policeman breaking the fire alarm—I turned up Fetter Lane and saw smoke issuing from the shutters of No. 6—several people said that an old lady lived there, and I tried to force the door—at first it would not give way—I kicked it, and then it gave, and the constable came and shut it.
WILLIAM ARTHUR HUTCHINGS . I am district superintendent of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, stationed at Farringdon Road—on the 14th July I was called to 6, Fetter Lane—I found the fire had been extinguished by the firemen who had arrived before I got there—it had been confined to the back part of the counter and towards the shop front—it
had evidently been caused purposely—there was a set of pigeon-holes at the back of the counter, and about fifteen of those were stuffed with paper cuttings or shavings, with some kind of turps, or paraffin, or varnish poured on them—in the shop window there were pieces of resin stuffed in the centre of pieces of paper—the shavings smelt of paraffin or varnish—in the lobby I saw the three cans produced, I should say they had all three contained turps, and there was a glass bottle about two-thirds full of paraffin oil—there was also a quantity of sealing wax inserted in the centre of handfuls of these paper cuttings, with pencils and penholders—there were a number of paper bags in stock, the bulk had been broken, and oil and varnish poured on them, and they had been stuck about—from what I saw I should say it was highly improbable that the fire could have been smouldering from twelve o'clock the night before, it is almost impossible, but not quite—I should say it had been burning a very short time—I should say it was discovered almost directly after it was lighted.
Cross-examined. I heard that the paraffin oil had been left on the premises by a painter, who had previously been at work there.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I had been drinking on the Saturday, I had had delirium tremens, and I walked into the station and gave myself up on a charge I knew nothing of but what was on the bills"
"WILLIAM WRIGIT (City Detective Sergeant) examined by the Prisoner. A little girl nine years of age was at the station, but it was thought she was not old enough to give evidence—she said she was at a second floor window opposite, No. 6, and she saw a man come out of the house sideways and go up Fetter Lane, but she could not identify him; she only saw his back—she said he had a brown hat on.
The Prisoner put in a written defence, in which he stated that he was labouring under a fit of temporary insanity from delirium tremens, and that he was going to Kennington Station intending to make some false accusation against himself, and on his way, seeing the placard offering £50 reward for this arson, he made up his mind to give himself up for that.
JAMES BROWN (Re-examined). He seemed in about the same condition he is now, cool and collected; there was not the slightest appearance of having been drinking—he was asked if he had been drinking, and he said, "No"—he did not sign the statement; I believe he signed the charge-sheet at the station—he described Walsh as a man of about his own stamp—he said Walsh was paid to do this job, and he paid him.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 18th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. BESLEY and MR. HALL Prosecuted; MR. ORMSBY Defended,
THOMAS LENNARD . I am cashier of the London and County Bank, Limehouse Branch—Dr. David Fennell kept an account there—£80 or £90 stood to his drawing account on 27th June, and £1,100 or £1,200 to his deposit account—on the afternoon of 27th June this letter was brought to me by a lad—it contained a cheque for £190, and stated: "17, Commercial Road East.—Please send by bearer a cheque-book as usual, and also place the enclosed cheque to my credit.—David Fennell" (The cheque was on Cox and Co. to Dr. Fennell for £190, signed Arthur Gooch, and endorsed "David Fennell"—the clerk stamped it, and it was returned marked "Forged"—I gave the boy a cheque-book, Nos. E18551 to 18575—the first of those cheques was presented about 10.20 next day, filled up, "Pay J. Frances, Esq., or bearer, £430. David Fennell"—it was endorsed,' but that was unnecessary—a man brought it, who I have a very imperfect recollection of—I gave a description of him, to the best of my recollection—I cashed the cheque with three £100 notes, ten £10 notes, 94479 to 94488, and £30 in gold—these (produced) are two of the £100 notes—it would require a clear day for a cheque paid in to a customer's or edit to come back from the Clearing House if it was wrong—there could be no possibility of ascertaining it at 10. 30 next morning without sending a special messenger—I believed it to be a genuine cheque of Dr. Fennell's or I would not have cashed it.
DAVID FENNELL . I am a physician and surgeon, of 517, Commercial Road East, and I live on the premises—in September, 1887, I took the prisoner as my assistant, at £2 a week—he left in August, 1888, after which I saw nothing of him, and do not know what became of him—he had the opportunity of becoming acquainted with my writing—he did not live in the house; he boarded out—I became acquainted with his writing while he was with me—I never use note-paper with my initials—I believe this letter to be the prisoner's writing—it is a very good imitation of my signature—I did not authorise anybody to apply for cheque-forms on 27th June—this cheque on Cox's is the prisoner's writing—I did not enclose it, and know nothing about it, nor were any cheque-forms brought to me by a boy—the signature is a good imitation of mine—it is the prisoner's writing, and I believe the endorsement to be his; it is the name of the payee—the endorsement on Cox's cheque is a very good imitation of my writing.
Cross-examined. He frequently wrote in my books; here are forty or fifty entries in his writing—his duty was to dispense and assist, and if I was called out, to take charge of the dispensary till I came back—the whole of this entry of June 12 is his—I have a letter here which I received from him on June 1, 1888—taking them as a whole, all these letters resemble his writing—after he had left a few days he sent me a letter enclosing some money—I paid him weekly in cash—he knew where I banked, but would not know the amount I had there.
Re-examined. I had a pass-book—he would not see the counterfoils of my paying-in slips; they were under lock and key—I do not think he has seen me write a cheque—he has had letters from me with my signature—the "cial" in "commercial," on this envelope, which came from him before he entered my service, and the "cial" on the forged cheque, are the same.
—on 29th May I issued a book of fifty cheques, Nos. 00,571 to 00,621 J. 11, to somebody who I do not remember—we have a customer named Arthur Gooch—this cheque for £150 signed Arthur Gooch is not his writing; we returned it with "Forgery" written on it in red ink—the order on which the fifty cheques were issued was forged.
Cross-examined. If the consecutive number, 88,420, had come in I should have known it.
WILLIAM THOMAS BENGER . I am manager to Jay and Co., pawnbrokers, of 142, Oxford Street—on 28th June, about three p. m., the prisoner, I believe, came to redeem some pictures which were in pawn for £8—he gave me a £100 note; I do not know the number—I asked him to write his name on it, which he did; this is it (produced)—I sent to our bankers for change, and then gave him £90 in notes, and he took the pictures away in a cab—on 23rd July I identified the prisoner at Bow Street; I picked him out from a number of others.
Cross-examined. I do not know who pawned the pictures—I have not got the ticket, and do not remember whether the name was Grant—the prisoner bought the ticket.
HY. HARRIS BEDDINGFIELD . I am a clerk in the London and County Bank, Oxford Street—Jay and Co. have an account at Islington, but they pay money through us—on 28th June I cashed this £100 note, and gave all fives.
HARRY WHITE (Detective Officer). I received information in July, and went to a house called Field Cottage, at Walton-on-Thames, and watched from 4 p. m., and at ten o'clock I saw the prisoner go in—he was residing there with his wife in the name of Brady, which was her maiden name—I said, "Johnson, we are police officers; I shall take you in custody on suspicion of committing forgeries on London banks"—Collins was with me—the prisoner said, "I know nothing about it"—he admitted that his name was Johnson—we took him to Bow Street at 4 a. m., but before that I searched his house, and in the front bedroom I found a dressing-case, a gold necklace and locket, five rings, two scarf-pins, a marriage certificate, some racing cards, two bills for goods, a Post Office order for £14 18s. 6d., a £100 note, a £50 note, seven £5 notes, and £5 in gold—I was at Bow Street in the afternoon, and also on a later day, when the prisoner was charged with a different offence—on 23rd July Mr. Benger was shown several men together, and identified the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I found two betting-books on the prisoner, with entries in them; they showed that he had been losing more than he was winning—on June 10th he won six bets, but it does not say whether they are shillings or pounds.
Re-examined. He has balanced his book in May, and it is about level—on one of the cards he has made entries after he got the £430—it does not show a balance, but one race is marked £12, and is on July 5th and 6th—that was Kempton Park; therefore he was making considerable bets.
By MR. ORMSEY. £100 notes would pass on a racecourse without difficulty, and they are generally in a crumpled condition.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ALBERT GRAHAM . I am a traveller, of 12, South Street, Thurloe Square—on the morning of the 28th June I went with the prisoner to the Lord Hill public-house, Waterloo Road; we had a drink, and a gentleman came up and gave him a £100 note, and the prisoner gave him £65 change—I did not notice any receipt given, or the number of the note.
Cross-examined. I have known him a little over eighteen months—I don't know the denomination of the £65 in notes—I was first asked to be a witness last Tuesday or Wednesday—I know this was on the 28th, because he owed me £6, and because I went for a holiday on the 29th; it was not the 30th—I am in the employ of Mr. Hardy, of Curtain-Road, Shoreditch—I serve them on commission.
By the COURT. I have been with the prisoner to races many times—I bet—I do not know the man who paid the £100; he joined us while we were there—he excused himself for keeping Johnson waiting so long, so there had been an appointment—I had never seen the man before or since.
JAMES BROWN DEMPSTER . I am cashier at the London and County Bank, Horsham—Mr. John Mills, of Oakwood Mill, Ockley, keeps an account there—on 7th June a man brought this letter (This was an order purporting to be from Mr. Mills for a cheque-book, and enclosing a cheque to bearer on Coutts and Co. for £54, signed "Edward Hart" requesting that it might be placed to his account)—the cheque was returned, marked "No account"—I gave a cheque-book of fifty cheques, numbered 68,026 to 68,075, and about 10. 30 next morning the first cheque out of the book was presented, drawn by Mr. Humphrey, for £160, payable to Mr. C. Thompson, and endorsed "C. Thompson"—I cannot identify the man who brought it—I paid him the £160 in nine £10 notes (45,971 to 79), two £5 notes, and £60 in gold; these two £10 notes (produced) are two of them—I believed it was Mr. Humphrey's signature; it was very like it, and he had a balance to meet the cheque.
JAMES HUMPHREY . I am a farmer, of Oakwood Mill, Ockley, and keep an account at the London and County Bank, Horsham—this order for a cheque-book is not my writing; I did not receive it, nor did I send this cheque to the bank—I know no one named Hart who has signed it—this cheque for £160 is not my writing, nor did I authorise anyone to write it.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner; I never wrote to him; I cannot suggest any means how he became acquainted with my writing—. I have no idea whose writing the forged order is—I know George Jennings, but I do not know his writing.
WILLIAM EDWARD STONE . I am a clerk to Messrs. Coutts, of the Strand—this cheque is made on a form which, with several others, we delivered out on this forged order (Signed W. Gore) on May 3rd—it purports to be made by Edward Hart—we have no such customer—it came from the Horsham bank, and was returned marked "stolen"—we have a customer name Gore.
Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, who carries on business in the name of Dobree—Mr. Ellis managed it till lately—on 12th June, about three p.m., the prisoner came in with a lady, and made several purchases—I identified the prisoner among several others—I made out these invoices—they purchased a lady's ring, price £2 10s., a dressing-case, and a gold lever watch, price £15—I made a note here that I would advance £12 on the watch at any time—he paid with two £10 notes, and I gave him change in gold—one of the notes was endorsed by Mr. Ellis, not in my presence; he frequently called there, and I suppose he cashed a cheque there—I do not know what became of the other note—I did not take the number—I fancy it was paid to a man named Pearman.
Cross-examined. I cannot trace the note Mr. Ellis took as one of those the prisoner paid me; I received £10 notes from other people and paid them away—the prisoner's wife is known at the shop.
HENRY ROBERT ELLIS . I live at Sinclair Mansions, Uxbridge Road—I was formerly manager to Mr. Dobree, of Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—I happened to be there when a lady and gentleman purchased a ring, a dressing-case, and a watch—after they left I received a £10 note, and paid it into the City Bank next morning, and the banker wrote my name on it.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner and his wife; I have never seen them at the shop, nor did I come forward and speak to her—Mr. Sanderson, the proprietor of the shop, may have spoken to her; he was in the shop, but I do not think he knew her—I have a customer named Voss, I do not know that he introduced the prisoner.
HARRY WHITE (Detective Sergeant). I took the prisoner on another charge at Walton-on-Thames, and found the property I have mentioned—he was passing by the name of Brady—I took him to Bow Street, and charged him with forging a cheque on Coutts' for £620.
DAVID FENNELL . I am a physician and surgeon, of Commercial Road East—the prisoner was in my service down to August, 1888—this order for the delivery of cheques is his writing, and so is this cheque on Coutts'—I believe this cheque signed John Humphreys to be the prisoner's writing, except the endorsement—I believe this document signed Gore to be the prisoner's writing, except the signature.
Cross-examined. I really say that this writing resembles the prisoner's, but it is loosely written, not with so much care as the other—comparing it with my book the letter "L" in "London" and in "Lily" are alike, also the "O" in "Osborne" and in "Ockley."
Re-examined. This is the letter and envelope ho sent me before he entered my service, when he had no motive for writing anything but his natural writing.
SPENCER WILLIAM GORE . I am a surveyor, of 16, Whitehall Place—I do not use such printed forms as this, and I am not an architect—this is an imitation of my signature; it is a forgery—this cheque on Coutts' is not my writing; I know nothing about it—these cheques, 06322 and
06304, of Edward Hart, are forgeries, and out of the book obtained by the forged order, I imagine—it purports to be signed by me, but it is not.
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner, and have never written to him, as far as I know.
Re-examined. If he wrote to me in a false name I should not know—I had a letter last September, asking for an appointment, which I promised the writer at a certain date, but he never turned up—he got my signature.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of forgery at this Court on December 11th, 1882, when he was sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. (There were three other indictments against the prisoner,)
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted,
HENRY COSTIN (City Detective), On 8th August I saw the prisoner in custody at Seething Lane Station—I told him I was a police officer, and asked how he could account for having this cheque in his possession—he said, "I picked it up in a by-street off Fenchurch Street"—I said, "Here are two envelopes and a letter; how did you come into possession of those?"—he said, "I don't know"—after two or minutes he said, "Yes; I picked them up outside the Paragon Music Hall, Mile End Road"—I then said something about the envelopes; he said he found them all three outside the Paragon—I went to Messrs. Milbourne's office, and found the tin letter-box outside the door had been forced open; this small key which Haven gave me will open it.
THOMAS BATESON . I am clerk to Brancha, Bozwell, and Co., of Liverpool—on August 7th I made out this cheque—it has been altered by erasing" McFadden," and putting in another name—I addressed it to Parker, McFadden, and Co., Lime Street—I have never seen the prisoner before.
CHARLES KINGSLEY MILBOURNE . I am a partner in the firm of Parker, McFadden, and Co., of Lime Street—£43 19s. was owing to us from a Liverpool firm, and we expected it on August 18th by letter—these two envelopes are addressed to my firm—the officer's description of our letter-box is correct.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he found the letters and cheque in a by-street off Fenchurch Street.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MCCRAITH Prosecuted, and the Prisoner was Defended by Counsel,
crossed cheque (for £36 11s. 6d.)—it is now endorsed "T. Robertson"—I know Mr. Robertson's writing—it is not his.
ARTHUR ALBERT MASTERS . I am Mr. Spottiswood's clerk—on 26th July I received a letter from him to post—I addressed it "Thos. Robertson, Esq., 9, Maida Vale, Paddington," and posted it—it contained a cheque for £36 11s. 6d.
THOS. ROBERTSON . I live at 391, Edgware Road—I formerly lodged in the prisoner's house in Maida Vale—I was in the habit of receiving letters there—the endorsement to this cheque is not mine—to the best of my belief it is the prisoner's writing—this is the account-book from week to week while I lived there—it is the prisoner's writing—I left there in June, 1888—I have received letters addressed there at my present address—I received two, I believe, in June, 1888, certainly one—and I produce the envelope of it—about a fortnight before this the prisoner called to get my advice; she said that she was actually starving, as her lodgers would not pay their rent.
Cross-examined. I was always on good terms with the prisoner.
HENRY ALFRED JONES . I am clerk to Mr. Spottiswood—I called on the prisoner with Mr. Dimond, and said, "A cheque which has been forwarded to Mr. Robertson at his house has miscarried"—I showed it to her, and asked her how he became possessed of it—telling her that Mr. Dimond said she brought it to him to be cashed—she said she received it from a lodger named Robertson, for her bill for £7 odd, and she had sufficient change, and paid him the difference, and receipted the bill—I said, "Why did you give a lodger change for a large amount like that?"—she said, "I cashed a cheque for him before; ho seemed honest and straightforward, and a gentlemanly man"—I said, "Where has he gone?"—she said he had left that morning after paying his bill, saying that he was going abroad, she did not know where.
BENJAMIN DIMOND . I am a cheesemonger, of 14, Clifton Road, Maida Vale—the prisoner was a customer of mine over two years—on the morning of 29th July she brought this cheque for £36 11s. 3d.—this endorsement was on it when she brought it—I gave her £20—she said she was in no hurry for the balance—she came again on the Tuesday, but I had not got change, but on Wednesday I gave her £6, and on Friday £7, and afterwards £3—she said she had the cheque from a lodger named Robertson—Mr. Jones called on me, and I went with him to her—she said that the lodger had left, and had given her the cheque, and he had been with her six months, and he had left no address—I cashed the cheque at the Capital and Counties Bank, and on passing through the Clearing House it was duly honoured.
Cross-examined. She owed me about 19s.—on August 2nd I found out that it was not right—when Mr. Jones called I went round and told her so, and she gave me back £4, which she said was all she had left; she had paid the rest to Mr. Robertson—she lets lodgings, and deals with me—we did not know what lodgers she had, but she was getting goods from us.
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Detective Sergeant). On 5th August I went to the prisoner's house with the prosecutor and Sergeant Barton; I told her that I was a police officer; that a letter containing a cheque for £36 11s. 3d. had been stolen; and endorsed, and cashed at Mr. Dimond's, and that the prosecutor charged her with stealing, forging, and uttering
it, and that what she said I should take down in writing—she said, "Mr. Robertson, who lived in my drawing-room, paid me the cheque on Saturday morning, and left my house to go abroad, I do not know where; he said, 'Where the oranges grow'; the cheque was signed when he gave it to me; I cashed it at Mr. Dimond's; he owed me £7"—I read the statement to her, and asked if she would like to sign it; she said "Yes"—I asked her if she could refer me to any lodgers who knew Mr. Robertson—she said, "No, they were all fresh in yesterday"—I have made inquiries, and cannot find anybody who knew the name of Robertson at that house—I searched the rooms, but only found the envelope of a letter.
FREDERICK BARTON (Police Sergeant). I went with Sergeant Wheatley to the prisoner's house; I have heard his evidence; it is correct—I searched the house, and found a large number of receipts for furniture bought on hire, and from seventy to eighty pawn-tickets for sixteen or eighteen months, some for sums as small as 1s. and 1s. 6d.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor and Jury on account of her poverty. — One Month, without Hard Labour.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ROBERT EASTWELL . I am a coach painter, of Hazlemere Road, Peckham—on August 19th, about a quarter to four p. m., I was looking in at the window of the Pictorial (News, in the Strand, I felt something fall from me—Horn spoke to me, and I missed my watch—in consequence of what Horn said, I pursued the prisoners, and took them in New Church Court—I got hold of Smith, and said, "Have you got my watch?"—he said nothing—I let go of him, and asked Linskey if he had got the watch—he muttered something, and Smith came behind me, and made a running kick, kicked me on my legs, and struck me on the back of my head with his fist, and I fell on my face—Linskey then kicked me—they got away—on Thursday, August 22nd, I went to Bow Street Station, and picked Smith out from one lot of men, and Linskey from another let.
HENRY HORN . I am an engine-fitter, of 274, Waterloo Road, Lambeth—on 19th August I was near the Pictorial News office, and saw the prisoners round a gentleman, and they went from him to the prosecutor, who was looking at the pictures—Linskey got on his left side, and Smith on his right—Linskey put his arm down at the bottom part of the window and put his hand like this, and tried to get the watch out with his left hand—I crossed the road and went into a public-house on the opposite side to watch them, but Smith stood in front so that I could not see, but I saw Linskey's hand come from the prosecutor's pocket with a watch in his hand—Linskey stopped about two yards from the window when he got the watch, and Smith walked to the kerb; they then spoke together, and I pointed them out to Eastwell, who ran after them, caught hold of Smith, and accused him of stealing his watch—I was waiting at the court for a policeman, and Smith came to me and said, "Why don't you let the poor s—get away?"—I said, "Yes, I will let him go away if I see a policeman"—Smith went behind to take the watch from Linskey, but he never gave it to him, and directly afterwards
Linskey came down the court, and Smith made a running kick at Eastwell, and punched him in the back, and knocked him down—Linskey then gave him a kick, and they got away—on August 22nd I was in the Strand again, and saw the prisoners and another man at the Graphic—I spoke to Callaghan, and they were arrested—I am positive they are the same men.
Cross-examined by Linskey. I saw the watch in your hand; I was behind you; you stood there till you heard me tell Eastwell you had got the watch.
FREDERICK MATTHEWS (Policeman E 116). On 22nd August I was in the Strand—Horn pointed out Linskey to me, and I took him in custody, and told him it was on suspicion of stealing a watch—he said, "All right"—on the way to the station he said, "Don't you think you have made a mistake?"—I said, "No"—he was placed with others at the station, and Eastwell picked him out.
HENRY CALLAGHAN (Policeman E 117). On 22nd August I was in the Strand, and Horn pointed out the two prisoners—I took Smith, and charged him with stealing the watch—on the way to the station he said, "Don't you think you have made a mistake r"—he was placed with others, and Eastwell picked him out at once.
Smith's Defence. I never saw the watch. It is not possible for two persons to take one watch from one man's pocket.
Linskey's Defence. Two of us could not take one watch, and he says I never touched him.
GUILTY . Smith then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell on December 20th, 1886, and twelve summary convictions were proved against Linskey.— Five Years each in Penal Servitude. The COURT awarded £2 to Horn.
696. GEORGE DANIEL VECK (40) and HENRY HORACE NEWLOVE (18) were indicted (with CHARLES HAMMOND , not in custody) for procuring George Alma Wright and others to commit certain obscene acts, and also to conspiracy.
VECK PLEADED GUILTY to the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Counts. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEWLOVE PLEADED GUILTY to the first ThirteenCounts. — Four Months' Hard Labour .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 18th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.
JOHN DAY . I am packer to Messrs. Robins, cap manufacturers, in the Barbican—on August 29 I packed, among other articles, a parcel of eight dozen cloth and six sealskin caps, value £39s. 4d., and directed it to Messrs.
Garlich, of Bristol—these produced are some of them—that and other parcels packed that afternoon were given to the porter Mitchell to deliver.
CHARLES MITCHELL . I am porter to Messrs. Robins—on this afternoon I had some parcels given to me to deliver—among them was one directed to Messrs. Garlich, of Bristol—I crossed Golden Lane—I left my truck in Ratley Street with Garlich's package and another parcel and a case on it—I was away three minutes; when I came back Mr. Garlich's parcel was gone; the others were still there.
WILLIAM MATTHEWS (City Policeman 162). I was on duty in plain clothes in Golden Lane at a quarter to four on this day—I saw a truck standing in Ratley Street, and saw the prisoner go and look at the truck, walk to Golden Lane, look round, and walk back towards the truck—I lost sight of him in the traffic—I went round through Fann Street—I saw the prisoner carrying a parcel—I stopped him, and said, "What are you doing with that parcel?"—he said, "I was asked to carry it"—I said, "I shall take you into custody, and charge you with stealing it"—I took him to the station and charged him—the parcel had the name of Messrs. Garlich, Bristol, on it—at the station it was opened; it contained cloth caps and six sealskin caps—these are samples out of the package.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said he was asked by a gentleman to carry the parcel.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in December, 1883.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 19th, 1889
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. RAVEN Defended
CHARLES GERMAIN I was chief mate on board the screw steamer Sidonia, a British ship trading between North Shields and America, belonging to Robinson and Sons, of North Shields—on 2nd July the ship was lying in the Port of Lisbon—about a quarter to nine that morning I went forward to measure a messenger chain that heaves the anchor up—as I did so I passed the prisoner, who was a seaman on board—as I was stooping down he came behind me, put his arm round my neck, and put a knife in my face; he pulled the knife out again and gave me another stab, saying, "Take that"—it cut through my coat and waistcoat, but not the flesh—I got clear of him and went aft—Hewitson, a fireman, laid" hold of him; I bled freely, and was taken to a hospital, and my wound was stitched up—I afterwards went on another voyage, and only returned to this country last Monday week—the prisoner had joined the vessel at New York.
Cross-examined. He was on board from New York to Lisbon, about twenty days—he was in my watch: I very rarely gave him orders, I generally gave them through the boatswain—there was not the slightest quarrel or words between us—on this morning we were both on deck,
he was simply standing waiting for some paint to go over the side, to paint; this took place just after I passed him; he was perfectly cool and collected—my quarters were aft, his were-forward—I spoke to him occasionally, but never had any dispute with him.
ROBERT HEWITSON . I was a fireman on board the Sonia—on 2nd July, about a quarter to nine a. m., as I came on deck I saw the chief mate coming forward; I saw the prisoner follow him to the side of the fore hatch, take out a knife from a sheath, and stab the mate—he was going to stab him a second time, when I ran up and prevented him—I caught hold of the knife and received a severe cut in the fingers—the prisoner said, "Go aft and tell the other son of a bitch to come forward, and I will do the same to him," referring to the second mate—about a quarter of an hour after he was put in irons—he then said, "The only thing I am sorry for is that I dose not finish him"—the prisoner had been engaged at New York before the ship started for Lisbon.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not say anything before he stabbed the mate—it was after he was put in irons that he said he was sorry he did not finish him, kill him right out—I had been on the vessel altogether about nine months, but only twenty days with the prisoner—up to that time we had had a very quiet voyage, no disturbance of any kind—I was close alongside of him when he stabbed the mate; I was in a different watch from the prisoner.
ARTHUR HARE (Police Inspector). About eight in the evening of 9th July I boarded the ship on her arrival at Blackwall Pier, and the prisoner was handed over to me by the chief officer—I said to him, "Is your name "William Smith or Doyle?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "We are two police officers (a sergeant was with me), and are going to arrest you for stabbing Charles Germain at Lisbon on the 2nd of this month"—he said, "All right, sir"—I took him to Bow Street, where he was charged.
CHARLES GERMAIN (Re-examined). After I was wounded I walked aft; I was then taken to the hospital in a tramcar, and remained there from ten in the morning till three in the next afternoon—I then went back to the ship; I could not go to my duties for nine days—my tongue was cut and two teeth were gone; the place was stitched up—the captain took my place till I recovered.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am surgeon of Holloway Prison—the prisoner was admitted on 10th July, and has been under my observation for some little time—he was in what is called the special observation cell—on 16th of this month, in consequence of a communication from the Treasury, I examined the prisoner—he handed me this statement which he had written, and asked me to give it to the Judge for the purpose of his defence.
(This was a long statement, complaining of annoyance on the part of the captain and mate during the voyage, and stating all kinds of absurd and improbable things as having happened to him.)
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "He humbugged me in that way I had to do something; I am very sorry."
MR. GILBERT (Re-examined). I had two long interviews with the prisoner—he persisted in these statements and repeated them, to the effect that men were going to kill him, that they persecuted and annoyed him, that they used to send him aloft to fasten the ropes, and when he
had done it they would undo them—it was the captain he chiefly talked of; he said "they," but meant the captain—he said they put stuff in his tobacco, also in his medicine, and in the sago, which kept him awake and caused him to shiver, and parched his mouth—I came to the conclusion that at that time he was insane, suffering from these various delusions of persecution—I think they resulted from drink—from his own statement he used to get drunk whenever he could when on shore, and once in Sydney he suffered imprisonment for drunkenness—his appearance was consistent with his statements—this sort of delusion is quite a possible form of insanity.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COLAM, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. FULTON and GILL Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
GUILTY of endeavouring to conceal the birth. — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended.
REGINALD EDWARD HUXHAM . I am a retired Lieut.—Colonel in the Army, and live at North Terrace, Fulham—my club is the Naval and Military, Piccadilly—in 1886 I carried on a business at 90, Chancery Military Agency"—I took it from a Mr. Worthy, and the prisoner was his clerk, and he remained on with me—the object of the business was to procure appointments in the Civil Service for soldiers and sailors—towards the end of 1886 I was desirous of retiring from the business, and I disposed of it to the prisoner for the sum of £90—this is the agreement—(This was dated 23rd December, 1886, by which the prisoner agreed to take over the business for £90, including office furniture and requisites, and to pay the amount by quarterly instalments of £ 8)—this was Signed by him—there was a duplicate—at one time he promised to pay down £45, but I said I did not wish to hurt him, as I knew the business would not pay very well, and I should be content with a payment of £16—on 14th January he paid me £8—that was the first instalment—I never received any further sum—in November, 1887, I sued him in the County Court, and got judgment, but realised nothing—the prisoner removed from Chancery Lane to Warwick Court—the last time I saw him was about a month after—I have never seen him since the decision of the County Court—in August, 1888, I commenced proceedings against my wife for a divorce—the case was heard on 7th August this year—I was present at the trial—a verdict was found in my favour, with £500 damages against the co-respondent—on 10th August I received this letter at my club—it is the prisoner's writing
—(Read: "Salisbury, 8th August, 1889. Sir,—With reference to the business which I unfortunately took over from you, and, to my sorrow, found to be valueless, the result being an actual turn out of the office by the landlord, I regret to have to state that I have not since been able to recover my position, and find it hard to live, much less to settle my London liabilities. It has been suggested to me that now is the time I should make the arrangement with you, and wipe off any liability I may have incurred with respect to a certain deed. With reference to the divorce case of yesterday, the rule nisi will not be made absolute for a period of six months, and the other side can move in the matter for the intervention of the Queen's Proctor. Now, a certain occurrence took place at 90, Chancery-Lane. A young lady called about 4. 30 p. m. to see the principal; at ten minutes to five the clerk was dismissed, the door was locked, and the young girl departs at 5. 25. There is evidence to prove this by four persons, and this would alter the whole features of the case so far as to the rule and damages granted waiting the result. I shall be thankful if I receive the paper from you to the following purport: I acknowledge that all claims made between Rt. Alfred Flather and myself have been duly satisfied in full. Mrs. Colbeck, of. 30, Wanser Street, will send any letter to me you may send by post—I shall understand no reply to mean a negative, and I shall act as I may be advised")—previous to the receipt of that letter I had not heard of any such suggestion about this woman—there is no truth in that statement in the letter—I at once handed the letter to my solicitor, and a warrant for the prisoner's arrest was applied for.
Cross-examined. I retired from the army in 1878—I held the honorary rank of major when I retired; I was a captain, and served as such in the 58th Foot—the prisoner was not in the same regiment then; he was in the 58th, but not at the same time I was—this is my private prosecution—I was aware at the Police-court from the prisoner's certificate that he had served in the army twenty-one years—he was not discharged with conduct very good; it was "good"; as a sergeant it should have been "very good"—I took this business from Mr. Charles Worthy in 1886—I did not make very much inquiry about it before I took it over—the entrance fee for the discharged soldiers and sailors was 5s., and on procuring a situation a week's salary—my brother has the document transferring the business; it is not here—I carried it on in the name of Hurd and Co.—I am not able to tell you how many persons I got employment for—the business caused me a loss of about £10 or £15, including the purchase, which was between £30 and £40—I gave notice to quit the offices, I can't exactly tell when; I think it was at Michaelmas, '86—I did not promise the prisoner that if he would purchase the business I would see to his getting his salary of 30s. a week, and that if the business did not pay I would not be hard upon him—I never wished him to purchase it; I asked him not to purchase it—I told him many a time that it was not paying the office expenses—on Christmas Eve, '86, I told the prisoner I had not got the 30s. to pay him his wages, because he behaved most impudently—I sent him a cheque on the Monday or Tuesday morning—I believe he has a pension—there was no agreement about his paying his instalments when he received his pension—I did not fix the sum of £8; it was his voluntary offer—I said
at first it ought to be £10, but he said he could not pay more than £8—I believe his pension is 1s. 6d. or 1s. 7d. a day—I sued him for the second installment of £8 on 7th November—after getting judgment I saw a Mrs. Colbeck in December, '87—I said I wished to know what had become of him, and whether he was in any situation, by which he might afford me payment of the £8 which had been given against him at the Court—I don't know that I said to her that the prisoner was a thorough scoundrel; I think he was quite deserving of it—I have no recollection of using those words—I did not say I would track him all over England and ruin him—I said I would endeavour to find him—I believe I said I would go to his employers and tell them what a jewel and treasure of a clerk they had—I had a letter from the prisoner complaining of my threats; my solicitor has it; I did not answer it—I did not see him again after 7th November, '87—I did not know where he was—I could not find him.
WILLIAM COUSINS (Detective Sergeant C). I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, dated 12th August—I arrested him on the 19th, at 25, Cranbourne Street, Leicester Square; I told him I was a Police-officer, and had a warrant for his arrest, which I read to him—he replied, "I wrote the letter, but I did not intend any menace, I did not know there was any harm in it; shall I have to go to the station?"—I said, "Yes"—on the way there he said, "Colonel Huxham induced me to buy a worthless business, situated at 90, Chancery Lane, about two years ago, and as I could not meet my payments I was trying to get out of it the best way I could; the statement I made in my letter with regard to the woman in the office is perfectly true, which I have witnesses to prove, and it will all come out now"—at the station, when I was about to search him, he produced this letter from his coat pocket, and said, "That is a copy of the letter I sent to Colonel Huxham, so that shows I have nothing to disguise."
Cross-examined. He did not mention the names of the witnesses, he said nothing beyond that a woman did go there.
The Prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour ,
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 19th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
704. SARAH SMITH** (43) , to stealing 53 yards of silk, of Thomas Phillips and others, after a conviction at Clerkenwell on 1st July, 1884.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. (Having first to serve the remainder of her former sentence of penal servitude.) [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended.
The Recorder considered that as the prisoner admitted taking the note, but did 80 under a bond fide claim for six months' rent due to him from the Prosecutrix, it did not amount to a larceny.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARD Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
MALCOLM CURTAIN . I am a merchant, of 17, Fenchurch Street—about April 21, 1888, Mr. Antill introduced the prisoner to me, who said, "I have opportunities of discounting bills; it is my intention to do that as a part occupation"—I mentioned a bill of £173, and he said, "I will inquire into it"—on April 27th he called again, after which he either spoke or telegraphed to me that his balance was too low, and he could not discount the bill—at a subsequent interview he said, "I have £5,000"—I asked him if he had a banking account—he said, "Yes; at the Royal Exchange Bank"—he called on 10th May, which was mail day, and suggested our giving him an opportunity of discounting our drafts—I took a bill out of the safe for £131 7s. 11d., and said, "I will give you a turn; do this at something like 5 per cent, under the Bank rate, "and very foolishly handed it to him—he said, "No, I cannot do that; I will do the best I can"—he called next morning, and told me we should have the money before bank hours—we never had the money, and I never saw him again till he was in custody at the Mansion House—I met the bill—we sold the goods, and received an acceptance—the acceptors wanted to pay it, but I wanted to get hold of the bill, and not allow them to be annoyed in any way—I have lost every farthing—they are a large firm, and it would not be well for them to proceed against this man—they would credit us with the goods, but I had to meet the draft, so I sold my goods for nothing—it was a trade bill, given for cocoa nuts—after May 11th I inquired at the Royal Exchange Bank, and the result was that I applied for a warrant—I gave the bill to the prisoner because I believed the representations he made.
Cross-examined. This is the bill, it is drawn to Linton, Hubbard and Co.—I had delivered the goods to the acceptor—supposing the prisoner had never been heard of, Hubbard's would have met their own acceptance—they have paid for the cocoa nuts—I had to pay for them originally when we imported them—they would credit the acceptance in the account—there is no one here from Messrs. Hubbard—I swear I paid this money to the Central Bank of London, who discounted it for Goldring and Co.—the prisoner ran away with the money—this is my endorsement, and this is the prisoner's endorsement—they would present it to the bankers of the acceptors, but that was not done—I retired the bill; it was presented, but at my request they did not pay it; I took it up—the cocoa nuts have been paid for in the account—this was not an accommodation bill—we have had one or two accommodation bills with Hubbard's firm—we have not drawn on them when there has been no value—we have drawn on Hill and Co. against the value of goods—these people are larger capitalists than we are, and when a vessel is coming in we very frequently require to retire a draft to a foreign shipping house, and our own customers will let us have their draft and take back our own—when the cargo is on the high seas, and before we have anything to show, we have drawn bills on Hill and Co. for future payments to come—we kept the cocoa nuts at Cooper's Wharf—we wrote a delivery order for £131—I will swear this was not an accommodation bill—I was in the habit of discounting bills at my
bank, but I did not go there, because the prisoner represented that he could discount cheaper than the banks could—the Bank rate does not rule the market—my bank is the New Oriental, they charge 1 per cent, more than the current Bank rate—I mean to say that he pretended to me that he could discount for less than the Bank rate—my discount account was not absolutely closed—I had known Mr. Antill before; he proposed to discount, but we never had any business with him—I gave the prisoner this bill, because he said that he had a banking account, and had £5,000, and also from his appearance—he said he could not discount the £173 bill, because his balance was smaller than he supposed—his money might be locked up—when he came next day he did not say that he had considerable difficulty in getting it discounted; that would have been an utter lie, because the names are well known in London—I could have gone to my bank that day and got it discounted, but at a higher rate than I wished to do it—I believed he could do it at a lower rate, because he would have a bundle of bills together, which he would pay into his own bank.
Re-examined. This bill was given for cocoa nuts per Suez.
WILLIAM HALL . I am manager of what used to be the Royal Exchange Bank; it is now the Metropolitan and Birmingham Bank; we have amalgamated with them—on April 6th, 1886, an account was opened in the name of John Dunning and Co. with £60—the prisoner is very much altered from the John Dunning I used to remember, but I do not think there is much doubt about him—this book was supplied, and the account was closed at the end of the same year, with 5s. 5d. credit—we did not discount this bill—neither John Dunning or John Dunning and Co. had any account there in May, 1888.
FREDERICK DOWNS (City Detective Sergeant). On 9th August I saw the prisoner in custody at Glasgow, and said, "Are you John Dunning?"—he said, "Yes"—I read the warrant to him, and he said he was the man mentioned in it—on the way to London he said, "It is very hard on me, as I did not have half of the bill; a man named Goldring discounted it for me, and only gave me £60; I have a splendid thing on hand just now, and it is my intention to pay every penny back"—I found this passbook in his trunk, and another pass-book on the Glasgow branch of the Bank of Scotland, in the name of John Dunning; also another on the Bank of Canada, in the name of E. J. Dunning, and a cheque-book of another bank.
Cross-examined. There was £170 in four drafts for collection at the Bank of Scotland; I put a stop upon them, and somebody else has got a stop on them—I don't know who will get it.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 19th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LYNES Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended,
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
708. GEORGE CHAPELL (26), TIMOTHY VAUGHAN (27), and HENRY DENMAN (36) , Unlawfully attempting to break into the warehouse of John Fletcher, with intent to Steal therein. Second Count, Being found by night with housebreaking implements in their possession without lawful excuse.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended Vaughan.
THOMAS CLARKE (Policeman E 215). About a quarter-past ten, on August 9th, I was off duty in Little James Street, near Gray's Inn Road, in plain clothes—I saw Chappell and Denman at the door of 2 1/2, Little James Street, Mr. Fletcher's cabinet manufacturing and French polishing place—Vaughan was standing six or seven yards off, in the centre of the road, right in front of the door—I could not see exactly what Chappell and Denman were doing to the door—I was forty or fifty yards off—Toefield was with me—the other two prisoners walked down to Vaughan, and stood there for a few seconds, as though they were speaking together—then Chappell went to the door again, and appeared to be tampering with the door; I could see his hands working, and then he walked out to the centre of the road again to the other two—he stayed with them a minute or two, and then went to the door again, and the other two walked down to the corner of the street—I could not say Chappell did anything the third time—he only went to the door and came away again—I followed the three men into the Yorkshire Grey, and called the assistance of other constables, and arrested them—I told them the charge—Chappell said, "We have not done anything"—the other prisoners said something to the other constables which I could not hear—as I took Chappell to the station he dropped this jemmy out of his right sleeve on to the ground; I picked it up—after I had taken him to the station I went back with the inspector to the door of 2 1/2, Little James Street—I found on it, close to the lock, three marks corresponding with this jemmy—Chappell made a statement at the station to the inspector—I saw Chappell searched at the station—these bradawl, screwdriver, and knife were found: on him—this apron and tin box were found on Denman, who is a French polisher by trade.
Cross-examined by Chappell. I was opposite a public-house forty or fifty yards from these premises—the lock that held the door had been tampered with—I have seen one or two jemmies—I don't know that I have ever seen a mason's or bricklayer's chisel.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There were three persons standing together near the public-house where I was—I found the three prisoners in the Yorkshire Grey, all standing together; I could not say if they were talking—I pointed out Chappell first, then Denman, and then Vaughan, to be taken to the station.
Cross-examined by Denman. I first saw you at the premises at a quarter past ten—I watched you from a quarter to half an hour before you separated—as soon as I got in the door of the Yorkshire Grey I knew which men to take.
CHARLES CHURCH (Policeman E 426). At a quarter to eleven on 9th August I was fetched by Clarke to arrest the three prisoners at the Yorkshire Grey—I took Chappell at once—he dropped this iron chisel as I was taking him to the station, a few yards down the Gray's Inn Road; Clarke picked it up—Chappell said nothing at that time—at the station ho said,
"You have made a mistake; I have used this as a poker for ten or twelve years, and I brought it out this morning to try and sell it."
Cross-examined by Chappell. I was on your left side; you brought your hand to the front at the time you dropped the chisel; you made a kind of grip to save it from falling, but it fell—bricklayers use chisels of this kind.
JOHN WELSH (Policeman G R 45). I took Vaughan to the station on 9th August—as I was taking him I saw Chappell drop this jemmy out of his right sleeve—Vaughan gave a correct address, 28, Furnival Street, Holborn, a lodging-house.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. He told me he had been at work that morning—he did not tell me for whom then; he might have the following day—I have not heard from inquiries that he had been working that morning.
JOHN FLETCHER . I am a cabinet-maker; my factory is 2 1/2, Little James Street, Gray's Inn Road—I was shown some marks on my factory door at a quarter to half-past seven on 9th August by the inspector; there were pieces taken out of the door jamb and out of the door—the inspector showed me this iron crowbar, or chisel, at a quarter-past eleven—the marks on the door corresponded exactly with the end of it—Denman was once in my employment in that factory, a twelvemonth last March, I think; some time ago—I think he ought to have known what was inside the factory that night; there was brasswork and special wood, valuable property, and about £20 in money that I generally get from the bank on Friday night—I keep it in a little iron safe there—this was Friday night.
Cross-examined by Denman. You worked for me—I have nothing to say against your honesty—I said if you did not get anything to do and came back I would do my best for you.
ONSLOW WAKEFIELD (Police Inspector E). In consequence of information I went at 11.30 p.m., on 9th August, to 2 1/2 Little James Street, and examined Mr. Fletcher's factory door—I found three recent marks on the door close to the large lock in the centre, three of them were well into the wood, but one was particularly well impressed and deep, and exactly tallied with the end of this instrument—I compared them with this jemmy—they were caused by it—this is not really a jemmy, I don't know what it was originally—the new broken woodwork was smeared with wet mud to conceal the effects, so that passers-by should not see it—the smaller lock that secured the door was above, and was not damaged—at the station Chappell said, "I brought this poker out with me to sell, thinking I might meet with a tradesman, and the same with these other tools "(those were the tools found on him); "it has been used as a poker many years; do you call that a housebreaking implement?"—the charge was having housebreaking implements—Denman said, "Do you think we would want to sing a song in a public-house if we were burgling?"—Vaughan said nothing in answer to the charge—he and Denman gave their right names and addresses—Chappell gave his right address, but the name of Chappell was incorrect.
Cross-examined by Chappell. The lock that held the door was not tampered with—the impressions were almost a foot below it, by another lock.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The detective made inquiries about Vaughan.
Cross-examined by Denman. I think it was certainly a determined attempt to break the door.
WILLIAM HUGGINS . I am postman at the King's Arms, Little James Street—on the night of 9th August the three prisoners were there, between twenty minutes and half-past ten—they were outside, and Denman went inside, and wanted to sing a song—the other two stood outside—Denman said, "You ain't going to refuse a chap that is hard up from getting 1d.?"—I had to go inside, and two or three complained of Denman that he was soliciting alms—finally he went in the other bar, and I turned him out—I afterwards saw the three prisoners standing outside Mr. Fletcher's cabinet factory at the corner near the King's Arms, twenty-five or thirty yards off—I saw Chappell go up to the door twice; the first time he stood up erect; the second time he was in a stooping position, and appeared to be working something—I was standing outside the public-house door when I saw this—after that he joined the other two, and went round the corner, and next time I saw him they were in custody.
Cross-examined by Chappell. I am postman and waiter in the billiard-room—I am at liberty from half-past five till twelve at night, except that I have to collect pots and attend to the billiard-room at times; they ring the bell when I am required—in between I can be outside—altogether I saw you for about ten minutes—I went up into the billiard-room twice between seeing you the first and second times.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There had been no singing outside, Denman started humming inside—Vaughan was a stranger to me; he never cameinside—only Chappell was there besides Denman; the policeman was not there—somebody was walking backwards and forwards across the road—Denman had not sung a song—it is not unusual for people to sing outside and come in for money—it is not usual for men of Denman's appearance to beg in public-houses; you do see it.
By Chappell. I saw Clarke and his friend at the station about a quarter to twelve; they were not in my employer's house before—I did not recognise them, I saw them when they came to fetch me—there were about 150 people in the house, I should say.
Cross-examined by Denman. You started humming—I could not hear what my employer said to you—I said, "You go away, "and you said, "All right, old man; it is very hard"—I said, "No singing is allowed inside"—I did not pay exact attention to the time.
WILLIAM TOEFIELD . I live at the Shaftesbury Hotel, Farringdon Street—I was in company with 9th August in Little James Street, after 10 p. m.—I saw Vaughan in the centre of the road and the other two prisoners at Mr. Fletcher's door—they remained there five or ten minutes—I did not see what they were doing—then Denman went across the road to Vaughan, and afterwards back to Chappell—Chappell and Denman went across to Vaughan; the three stayed together a few seconds, and then Chappell went back—Vaughan and Denman stayed in the road—Chappell joined them, and they all went to the bottom of Little James Street and turned the corner—I saw no more of them.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I and Clarke had not been to the
King's Arms—Clarke was going towards home; we passed by the King's Arms, and went into Little James Street.
Cross-examined by Denman. It was a quarter of an hour between the time I first saw you, about' half-past ten, and the time of your arrest.
Cross-examined by ME. PURCELL. The address of Vaughan, 27, Furnival Street, Holborn, was given to me—that is practically in the neighbourhood of Gray's Inn Road—I found Vaughan had been at work for Mr. Leach, of Smith's Rents, the day previous, and for about three months—Vaughan was known by the name of Charles Smith, not Timothy Vaughan—he has never been convicted of felony—I never heard anything against him.
Cross-examined by Chappell. You gave a correct address at 12, Clark-Street, Stepney—your proper name is George Farmer; you are a labourer.
Re-examined. I found he had been getting an honest living till about 1880; another officer can speak to him.
WILLIAM SAVAGE (Detective City Police). On 1st June this year I apprehended Chappell for stealing 4d. from a woman's pocket; he was remanded and discharged, as I could not find the prosecutrix—on 1st November, 1888, he was apprehended on leaving Holloway Gaol, on a warrant for deserting his wife and two children, and he was sentenced to a month at Dalston—he was in Holloway for adulterating milk—he was formerly a constable in the Dudley division.
Chappell in his statement before the. Magistrate, and in his defence, said the tools he had on him were not housebreaking implements, and that the chisel he had used as a poker, and was trying to sell. Denman said he had been seeking work; he sang a song at the public-house, and then met Chappell, and went with him to the Yorkshire Grey. Vaughan, in his statement, said he had been at work all the week, and had no tools but a penknife on him.
Vaughan received a good character.
VAUGHAN— NOT GUILTY .
CHAPPELL— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
DENMAN— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury, on account of his previous good character, and because they thought he was led away by the other men.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, September 20th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. TAYLOR Prosecuted; MESSRS. FULTON and HUTTON Defended.
MATTHEW HENEY MAESH . I am a greengrocer, of 326, High Road, Kilburn—on Sunday, 28th July, a little after twelve, I was in Evison Road in company with Mr. Truscott—while conversing with him I saw Mrs. Devison and Mrs. Handford coming from Brondesbury Chapel on the left hand side of the road—as they passed 26, where the prisoner lodged, which is on the right side, I saw the prisoner walk quietly down the steps and walk across the road slantways, in the direction of
his wife; when they got very nearly opposite their own house, Kent Lodge, Mrs. Handford left her mother's side and walked in the direction of Kent Lodge—the prisoner then walked to her, drew a revolver from his pocket, and shot her, then shot the mother, and then shot himself, and fell on the pavement apparently dead; I thought he was dead—several persons came to their assistance, and somebody went for a doctor.
Cross-examined, I have only known the prisoner to speak to since he separated from his wife, three months, or something like that—I know nothing about his habits—I was not a companion of his—I have seen him with his wife—they seemed very comfortable together before this spring.
ARTHUR TRUSCOTT . I am a carpenter, and live at 84, Evison Road—on 28th July, about half-past twelve, I was in conversation with Marsh in Evison Road—we were standing on the open space almost at the corner of the prisoner's house—I saw Mrs. Devison and Mrs. Handford coming on the right side, the same side as the chapel—just after passing 26 I saw the prisoner cross the road, deliberately follow them up, and shoot them—after he had shot the mother I went to her assistance—I helped her to the railings and set her down there—I then went for a doctor—the prisoner was put on a stretcher and taken to the hospital—the wife and mother were taken to their own home.
RICHARD JULIAN . I am a builder, and live at 38, Evison Road—on 28th July, shortly after twelve, I was sitting in my front room, and heard a report of firearms, and subsequently a second report—I ran out—I first saw Mrs. Devison in the middle of the road, staggering towards the opposite side, where I live—a third shot was fired as I was going out—I saw the prisoner on the ground—I ran and picked him up, and put him in a sitting posture for a few minutes—a strange man came up, and asked where the revolver was—he had not got it in his hand—I pulled him over, and the revolver was under him—the man picked it up.
RICHARD POWELL . I am a joiner, and live at 1, Averell Road, Evison Road—on 28th July I had been to Brondesbury Chapel—on leaving it I passed Mrs. Handford and Mrs. Devison in Evison Road—I heard a report, looked round to see what was the matter, and saw the prisoner fire another shot, and then he fired at himself, and shot himself in the temple—I went up to him, and picked up a revolver, which I handed to a constable.
JOSEPH NICHOLLS (Police Sergeant S 16). On 28th July, about half-past twelve, I was on duty in Evison Road—Powell handed me this revolver—I examined it, and found three discharged cartridges and three full cartridges—I sent the prisoner to the hospital in charge of a constable.
SARAH ELIZABETH HANDFORD . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 42, Evison Road, West Hampstead—I was married to him in August, 1887—there is one child by the marriage, a boy—immediately after the marriage I resided with him at my father's house, 42, Evison Road—after the birth of the child I had reason to complain of my husband's conduct towards mo, his drunkenness—I had to remonstrate with him on account of it, also of his threats and ill-treatment—the last occasion that ho made use of threats was on the 2nd May; he threatened to take my life, to blow my brains out; the same with regard to the child—in consequence of his threats and ill-treatment I left him on the 2nd May—I left
Kent Lodge shortly afterwards; he remained there for a week—I went to a friend's house—I saw him on one occasion afterwards on leaving church—he spoke to me and I answered him, and passed on—I did not return to Kent Lodge till after he had left, a month later—on 28th July I went to the morning service at Brondesbury Chapel with my mother, Mrs. Devison—on leaving the chapel we went down the road on the left hand side to Kent Lodge—I crossed the road to Kent Lodge, and as I was crossing I was shot; I could not see who by—I ran back a little way towards the railway arch—I heard other shots fired—I then turned back and saw that my mother had been shot—I was afterwards taken to Kent Lodge, and was there attended by Dr. Tilley.
Cross-examined. We had been engaged twenty months before our marriage, but I had known him much longer—his father was a neighbour of ours—we were members of the same congregation—he was not addicted to intemperance during the twenty months we were engaged—that commenced three months after our marriage; it came on by degrees—he was very much addicted to drink the year before this occurrence—he was not sober for long together, he was either drunk or recovering from drink—he was of rather an excitable temperament when he was under the influence of drink—he treated me with kindness and affection up to the time he began drinking—he is thirty-three years of age—I cannot assign any cause seemed very fond and proud of the child—he threatened violence, to the child—that was after it was two or three months old—the threats were when he was either actually very drunk or recovering from drunkenness—he got much worse during the last year—my father and mother and his own father used every means to induce him to change his mode of life—he had been a week or ten days under the influence of drink when he threatened me, and I left the house—I think he suffered from delirium at times; he did not imagine he saw things—he was violent in his manner, throwing his arms about, and so on—he was ill after I left home—I believe he expressed a desire to see me—I was ill and unable to go—I attributed his illness to his shocking habits—he did not say anything to me on the 28th July, he at once fired the three shots—I had not seen anything of him from 2nd May till then.
Re-examined. What I call delirium was his throwing his arms about after drink—I never saw anything of that kind except after one of these drinking bouts.
ALFRED TILLEY . I am a medical practitioner at Brondesbury—on 28th July, about a quarter to one, I was sent for to Kent Lodge to attend on Mrs. Handford—she was suffering from a wound, evidently caused by a bullet, in the right cheek—it penetrated the cheek, and on looking into the mouth I found that the wound passed through the cheek, and also wounded the soft palate—I had very little to do with it for the next hour or two, for my time was taken up with Mrs. Devison, she was under the care of Dr. Grosvenor or Dr. Walker—the bullet was found; she had swallowed it—the hæmorrhage was severe; it did not cease till next day—it was not a very serious wound—I attended the prisoner about 2nd May, at Kent Lodge—he was suffering from violent dyspepsia; a great deal of sickness—I think it was due to his drinking habits, and there was considerable weakness and excitability, which I think was owing to the same cause—he answered coherently the questions I put to him—as far as I know, he was in possession of his faculties.
Cross-examined. He had the appearance of a man under the influence of drink for a considerable time—there was no actual delirium tremens—it might very easily ensue; he was very near it—he was suffering from a great deal of dyspepsia, weakness, and sickness—I have known him four or five years—I think he is naturally of an excitable temperament—I have no idea how he came to take to violent drinking habits—I have attended Mrs. Devison before—I only attended the prisoner two or three times, at the interval of a few days; he got better—I have met him several times since, but not professionally—the condition I found him in on 2nd May would be likely to recur if he again took to stimulants—he was in his father's office, who is a publisher of engravings, I believe.
WALTER GRAHAM . I am house-surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—the prisoner was brought there on 28th July, and was placed under treatment—he was in a state of stupor and collapse—he had two wounds, one on the temple, and the other rather higher up more over the forehead—the wound in the temple was a small round wound, the other was of a more lacerated character; externally it was not dangerous, but it was in a dangerous part—on examination afterwards I found there was a passage down to the bone—the bone was exposed, and some pieces of lead stuck into the bone—he remained under my treatment until he practically recovered.
Cross-examined. The wound was dangerous by reason of the position of the shot; the bullet was diverted, it struck the bone and split, one piece came out in the opening of the forehead, the other piece remained in the bone.
Re-examined. The wound was sufficient to produce a state of stupor.
WALTER BUTLER . I am a plumber and gasfitter, of 26, Evison Road—I have been the prisoner's landlord since about the 2nd of May—I have frequently seen him write—this letter (A), also B and C is his writing—about half or a quarter past ten I saw him in his bedroom—I asked him how he was—he said he felt very queer—I asked him if he would like any breakfast—he said he thought he should—my wife took him up a cup of bovril, a piece of toast, and an egg—he drank the boil, but hardly touched the egg and toast—we afterwards went out for a walk to the Crown at Cricklewood—I left him at the Crown; I did not go there—during the whole of the time he was with me that evening he was perfectly sober—he was very low-spirited, excited, and agitated Cross-examined. When I left him at Cricklewood he complained of illness; he said he felt very faint and queer before we went out; he said he had passed an entirely sleepless night; he said his head was all in a whirl—he lodged with me about two months—he occupied one room, a front room, a very large room—he did not take his meals with us, he took them in his own room, but latterly he had not been able to take much, he had taken very little—I never saw him intoxicated—I can't tell what time he usually came home; it might be ten, eleven, or twelve—I have frequently come home with him, and sat in his room and smoked with him; he was very fond of company—he was very lonely; he was low-spirited and depressed for a fortnight before the 28th of July—I noticed it all the time he was there—at times he was excited, but nothing extraordinary; I did not see anything I could particularly account for—he frequently complained of sleepless nights, in fact, a friend of his, a young fellow who I believe is in Court, frequently came to sleep with
him—I did not know that he had been an habitual drunkard—I had known him six years—I had seen him and his wife occasionally going for a walk, but not to speak to him; I knew nothing of his habits—I knew when he came to us that Dr. Tilley had attended him, but I did not know what for—I did not know that his wife had left him in consequence of his intemperate habits—he frequently referred to his wife and child.
Re-examined. He said he thought it hard to lose his wife and child; he could never live without them unless there could be some reconciliation—he said that on his child's birthday he wrote to his wife asking for an interview—I knew he had a revolver, and I thought I was justified in warning Mr. Devison; I thought something might occur, because of his excited state, and the way in which he expressed himself—I told Mr. Devison that he had a revolver; I thought it advisable from the state of his mind that they should go away; I should not have liked such a thing to occur without warning them—his language was such or I should not have done it.
THOMAS BANNISTER (Police Inspector S). On 28th July I was called to Evison Road, about three—I saw blood on the pavement—I afterwards went to St. Mary's Hospital, and there saw the prisoner; he was in a state of semi-unconsciousness—on 8th August I again went there, and saw him—he was then in a condition to understand what I said—I told him he would be removed next day, and charged with attempting to murder his wife and her mother, and attempted suicide—he said nothing referring to the charge; he simply asked if he could take some clean linen with him—he was afterwards brought to the Court, and charged—next day the charge was read over to him; he made no reply—I searched his room at 26, Evison Road, on the Sunday, the day of the occurrence—I there found the paper marked A; the papers B and C were found by the sergeant.
The letter marked A was put in and read—it was dated 22nd July, 1889, addressed to the Editor of the "Kilburn Times," and proposed to give a history of his married life, which he described as an undoubted failure, and he complained of the meanness of his father-in-law and the interference and unkindness of the mother, which caused unhappiness and disagreement between his wife and himself, and led to her taking proceedings for a judicial separation. The letter B was dated July 23rd, addressed to his uncle, stating that his life had been wrecked by a wicked man and woman. C was without date; it gave the address of his father and of his wife, adding," May God forgive them for their unkindness."
GUILTY on First Count—recommended to mercy on the ground of his health physically. — Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude.
There were two other indictments: one for attempting to murder Mrs. Devison, and the other for attempting to kill himself.
MESSRS. FULTON AND HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
Upon the evidence of Mr. Philip Francis Gilbert, Surgeon of H. M Gao
Holloway, the Jury found the prisoner to be insane at the time he committed the act,— Ordered to he detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
ALICE CRAWLEY . My name is Isherwood, I go by the name of Crawley—on 8th July I was living with Mrs. Marlow at Glanville House; it was a house of ill-fame—on that day I went out with Mrs. Marlow; we met the prisoner; I had known him previously; we drank with him at the Red Lion at Walham Green; we had a quarrel there—I accused him of taking my ring, but it was Mrs. Marlow's son who took it, and pawned it for a shilling—I was drunk, and Mrs. Marlow took me home—I went up to my bedroom—I don't recollect the prisoner coming there to me; I was too drunk to recollect who was with me—I remember nothing till I was taken to St. George's Hospital, when I found I was stabbed in the neck.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I abused you for taking my ring, and threw beer in your face—William Marlow was with me previous to my meeting you.
LYDIA MARLOW . I live at Glanville House, Didcot Road—on 8th July I and the prosecutrix went out for a walk—we met the prisoner at Walham Green, and went with him to the Red Lion—there was a quarrel there about a ring that belonged to a sweetheart of Crawley's—afterwards she and I went home; she went into her room and began to unpick her hat with the scissors—the prisoner came in, and she began to aggravate him—he asked her for sixpence—she said, "You have had too many b----sixpences out of me"—he followed her into her room—I did not hear the conversation; I only heard the scream—I went into the room, and saw her on the floor, and the prisoner standing against the door with the scissors in his hand—I found that she was stabbed; she said so, and she said, "Don't lock him up"—I don't know what became of the scissors; I found them at night when I came back from the hospital—he said, "Old woman, I will be hung for her;" he was the worse for drink—he went to the hospital with her—I saw the wounds, and put sticking-plaister on, but she pulled it off as fast as I put it on.
Cross-examined. There was nobody in the house but myself and Crawley when you came in—I know she was using bad language about the other man and the ring—I heard her call you a b----convicted thief, and you said she ought not to call you that, as she was one herself—my house is a brothel, and so was the house I had before that in the same avenue, where I lived two years and seven months; also a house I had in George Street, Chelsea, was a brothel.
PATRICK MCDOWELL (Police Sergeant B). On August 31, about half-past twelve p. m., I met the prisoner and stopped him, and read the warrant to him; it was for maliciously wounding Alice Crawley—these scissors were handed to me by Mrs. Marlow.
he was arrested we had a desperate struggle—I told him the charge—he said it was a great pity he had not finished her.
Cross-examined. What you said was that it was a pity she was not dead.
HUBERT HIGGINS . I am house-surgeon at St. George's Hospital—on 8th July, about 5 p. m., I saw Alice Crawley; she was suffering from some punctured wounds, one on the left side of the neck about two inches deep, impinging upon a large artery, and another at the back of the neck to the left side of the medial line of the body, which penetrated the vertebral column about 2 1/2 inches deep, a most serious wound—there was another on the outer side of the left arm, and another very deep wound on the left buttock—there was also a bruise on the left side of the head—she seemed to be suffering from concussion of the brain, and to have been drinking—they were dangerous wounds—her life was in danger for three or four days—one blade of these scissors would have inflicted such wounds—it would require a great deal of force to inflict them.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that in the quarrel the prosecutrix threw the scissors at him, and in the impulse of the moment he picked them up and struck her.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 20th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
712. GEORGE BEAUMONT** (31) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Canning Mackinlay, and stealing a watch and other articles, after a conviction of housebreaking on 13th September, 1866, in the name of George Collins.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Adams received a good character.—
Discharged on his own recognisances.
WALTERS— Nine Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
715. GEORGE CRONIN (13), WILLIAM CARPENTER (13), and JOHN BURKE (9) , To burglary in the dwelling-house of William James Giles, and stealing five knives, five forks, four pairs of boots, and other articles.
CRONIN and CARPENTER— Judgment respited.
BURKE, discharged. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. COLAM Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended. The prisoner received an excellent character.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, September 20th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
717. FREDERICK SMITH (18) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Alexander Smellie, with intent to steal also to a previous conviction of felony in May, 1888, at this Court, in the name of Frederick Denham.— Fifteen Months Hard Labour. And
718. JOHN MURPHY (34) , To being found by night with housebreaking implements in his possession, and to being found by night in a dwelling-house, with intent to steal; also to a conviction of felony at this Court in February, 1886.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
719. BENDIGO HARVEY, ALEXANDER BROWN , and FREDERICK ALTHAM , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Anthony Charles Vincent, and stealing cigars and other articles. HARVEY and BROWN PLEADED GUILTY . They were sentenced on the following Tuesday to Nine Days' Imprisonment.
MR. HEDDON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against
NOT GUILTY .
COLEMAN PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted, and MR. THORNE COLE Defended Drake.
EMILY SMITH . I am the landlady of 12, Ship Alley, St. George's—on 31st July I went to bed at half-past ten, leaving all the doors and windows bolted—I awoke at half-past four, and found Coleman with his hand across my throat—I got up and followed him into the kitchen, into which my bedroom leads; both rooms are level with the street; there is only a door between them—I saw Drake in the kitchen, taking clothes out of a box which was closed but not locked—Coleman said, "If you scream, you beast, I will murder you"—Drake, who was standing by, could hear that—they then both ran-out—the clothes Drake took from the box had been made into a bundle, and were left on the floor some distance from the box—I cried for police—after the prisoners had gone I found the kitchen window (which had been left fastened the night before) open, and three out of five flower-pots were taken off the sill—the catch, an old one, was off—I missed a clock from my bedroom mantelpiece—someone found it in the Square—these are my things—I never saw Drake in my bedroom.
STEPHEN WATSON (Policeman H 424). At half-past four on the morning of 31st July I heard a noise, and I saw two men running—Iran after and shouted to them—they turned into Brockhurst Road—when they saw me they tried to increase their speed—I blew my whistle—they went through North-East Passage, and turned into Cable Street—ultimately I got them—I took Coleman into custody—I was single handed—I took the prisoners back to Ship Alley, where Emily Smith charged them.
Cross-examined. I arrested Coleman 400 or 500 yards from where the prosecutrix lived, I should say—I saw another constable arrest Drake about ten yards from where I arrested Coleman.
FRANK PRATT (Policeman H 274.) At twenty minutes to five on 31st July I heard screams in Ship Alley in a female voice—I was 500 yards off—I ran there, and saw the prosecutrix at her door—she pointed to two men running, and made a complaint to me, and subsequently I saw 424 H—I arrested Drake—he said, "I never saw the prisoner (meaning Coleman)
until to-night; he dragged me into it; we got over the wall in the alley, through the window into the room; we only slept in the watchman's box for a blind"—where they were repairing the roads there was a box.
Cross-examined. I took Drake into custody near where the other constable had Coleman—Drake said, "I asked a watchman to let us sleep in his box as a blind; we were going away to sea to-morrow"—Coleman told him to shut his b----y mouth, but said nothing else in his presence.
HENRY EVANS . I live at 208, High Street, Shadwell—at ten minutes to five on morning of 31st July I was sweeping the streets, and saw a constable running—I went to see what it was about, and saw Drake in custody—I saw this clock in the road, about twenty yards from where I first saw the prisoners—I took it to the station—I saw no one drop it.
The prisoner Drake received a good character from witnesses, who also stated that he was subject to epileptic fits.—
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of the fits. It was stated that his father had arranged for him to go into an epileptic hospital for six months.—Discharged on his father's recognisances.
MR. WALKER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MANNING BARKER . I am a tobacconist, of 155, Essex Road, Islington—on 12th January, on coming downstairs about seven o'clock, I found my premises had been entered, and property taken—things in the back parlour were in confusion, and a marble timepiece, a musical box, a tablecloth, a pair of boots, and two great coats had been taken—when I went to bed the night before the premises were safe; I locked up the shop and back parlour, and took the keys into my bedroom, as I always did—entry was effected through the parlour window at the back of the shop—when I came down the window was wide open, and the door of the room and the door leading into the passage were forced—over-night the window was closed with an ordinary fastening and folding shutters and a drop bar—I communicated with the police—the total value of articles stolen was £23 or £24—I saw and identified the articles stolen—this one was on the mantelpiece of the room.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know nothing about you—I have no remembrance of having seen you before.
GEORGE THOMAS (a Prisoner). I am now serving fifteen months' imprisonment in Pentonville—I was sentenced in February at this Court for breaking into Mr. Barker's shop, 155, Essex Road—the prisoner was with me when I broke in—on the night of the burglary I met him by appointment about six o'clock, outside the Kenilworth Arms, New North Road—he asked me if I would go with him, and I said "Yes"—he said, "I shan't go yet, I am going to the Variety"—between nine and ten I saw him outside the Kenilworth—we went round and had a drop of beer; he came to my place, 13, Rotherfield Street, Essex Road—I went indoors and got a sack; I joined the prisoner, and we went inside and had some beer—we went up the court, and got over the wall, and into the place—that was on 12th January, between two and three—a court runs up the side by this shop, and we got over the wall, and into the tobacconist's
shop—Scott put the catch of the window back, and I opened the window, and we both pushed the shutters and got in—we selected cigars and whatever we could get, and made three bundles of them, tying them up in the tablecloth and a bag—we came out through the window, and over the wall, and carried the three bundles down to Adelaide Square, where there were a lot of barrows—we put the things on a barrow—besides the things in the bundles, we took a musical-box, a clock, pipes, a hat, and two overcoats—I put one overcoat on, and the prisoner the other—I pushed the barrow—Scott walked on the pavement—we went to Coleman Street—two policemen came across the road, and we ran away—I do not know the policemen.
Cross-examined. I got on the window-sill to push the shutters back, and you got a broom and shoved with that—I carried the cigars tied up in the tablecloth and the clock—that was one bundle—you carried a shiny bag and the musical-box; the latter was not a bundle—I swear I identify you—they gave me nothing to come up and swear this—they promised me nothing—I always had a respectable character till I came into your company.
GEORGE DOBSON (Policeman N 273). On Saturday morning, 12th January, I was in Coleman Street, Islington, on duty with 280 N, and I saw Thomas drawing a costermonger's barrow, and the prisoner by the side of it, having hold of one of the handles—the prisoner dropped the handle of the barrow, and both ran away—I ran after them, and caught Thomas; the prisoner got away—on the barrow was a bundle containing boxes and bundles of cigars, tobacco, a musical-box, clock, a string tub containing a number of coins, and this photograph case—the musical box was separate from the bundle—they both had long coats on—I did not see the prisoner again till 3rd August, when I identified him from among seven or eight men—I afterwards charged him with this offence, and he said it was not him—when chasing him I saw his face, for he turned round a few yards from the lamp-post, and called to Thomas to come on; he was two or throe yards in front of Thomas—I did not have a very good view when he had the barrow; I saw him better when he called to Thomas, and when I apprehended Thomas.
Cross-examined. You were in the road, not on the pavement—I was on the opposite side of the road—I saw your face before you began to run, but I did not recognise you then—I picked you out at the station about half-past nine, I think.
THOMAS HOPE (Policeman N 280). I was with Dobson in Coleman Street on this morning, and saw Thomas and the prisoner coming with a barrow—Thomas was drawing it, and the prisoner walking by the side; he appeared to have hold of a handle—I was on the opposite side—we stepped into the road, and the prisoner dropped the barrow and ran away—we gave chase—I was within a yard of the prisoner, and I fell; when I got up he was gone—I had a good view of him; he turned round as he turned the corner—I had seen him in the neighbourhood of New North Road a few nights previously, and knew him by sight—I afterwards gave a description of him.
Cross-examined. I identify you—I was on the pavement when I saw you—you were on the opposite side, close to the pavement—I saw your face when you turned into Ann Street, and I fell down; I was close to you then—I saw you before I fell down, I got a good view of you as you
turned the corner—I knew you by sight—I identified you between nine and ten, I was waiting some time.
ALFRED DYKE (Detective Officer N). I arrested the prisoner on 3rd August, and charged him with breaking into this house—he said he knew nothing about it—I took him to the station, placed him with seven others; Hope and Dobson at once picked him out—I was present when a copy of this notice that Thomas would be called as a witness, was served on the prisoner in prison.
Cross-examined. I took you to the station about half-past nine, and it might have been about ten when the constables identified you.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am innocent of this. I was in custody, and tried at the same Sessions as Thomas; why was I not tried then?"
Witnesses for the Defence.
WALTER SCOTT . I live at 33, Cathcart Street, Kentish Town Road, and am a journeyman coach-painter—I am your elder brother—on 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, and 13th January you were at home sleeping along with me at 4, New North Street, Theobald's Road—you slept with me till 14th January—on 16th January you were at Holloway, I believe—you were working for Mr. Peacock, a coach-builder—you went away on 14th January.
Cross-examined, He had slept with me for months in the same bed—both our parents are living; our father is our stepfather a letter came from the prisoner on 16th, saying he was in custody—I was given to understand he was tried in this Court; I was laid up at the time—he came out on 3rd August, and I heard on the Sunday he was arrested again—I heard him charged at the Police-court—I did not give evidence, because none was required—I heard Hope say my brother was in Thomas's company on the morning of 12th January in Coleman Street—I knew it was false—I offered myself as evidence—they only took my stepfather's evidence—no one else was required—the Magistrate asked my brother if he desired to call evidence, and he said his mother, father, and brother were there, and he desired to call them—I wanted to give evidence; I was not required—my stepfather did not say he did not know where the prisoner was on the night of the 10th; he did not say he knew nothing about the case—I said to the gaoler "I want to give evidence"—he said, "You will be required in a minute or two"—I remained in Court till the committal—I was surprised I had not been called; I only expressed my surprise to the people at the back of the Court listening to the case—never knew Thomas—I had never seen, him previous to 10th January—my brother came home every evening—I spent the evening of the 9th, 10th, and 11th January with my brother—I have not been in the Kenilworth since 1881—my brother was not wearing an overcoat, but a little black jacket—he had an overcoat, but it was at home at this time.
ELIZA SCOTT . My husband is a coach-smith—we live at 33, Cathcart Street, Kentish Town—I am your mother; your proper name is Henry David Reynolds—I have married again, and you took your stepfather's name—you were never away from home till the 14th January—we then lived at New North Street—you never slept out one night till after 14th—you had to go through our room to your bedroom—you left on 14th January to go to work, and I next heard of you on 16th by letter from the House of Detention.
Cross-examined. I was at the Police-court—I did not hear the case tried; I was just inside the door, and I could not tell you what was said—my husband said he did not know the date; I did not know the date—I did not hear my husband say he did not know where the prisoner was on the night in question.
Evidence in reply.
ALFRED DYKE (Re-examined). I was present at the Police-court during the whole time of this charge—when the prisoner was asked whether he had any witnesses, he called his father-in-law, who said he could not prove where the prisoner was on the night of 11th or morning of 12th, for he was not at home that night—he was told to stand down—"Walter Scott was standing about five yards from the box—I did not hear him say a word—Mrs. Scott was there, the prisoner did not call her, she said nothing—she was standing about two yards from her son behind; she could hear quite plainly what the police said—I arrested the prisoner when he was leaving Holloway Prison.
Cross-examined. Your father did not say he was not correct about the dates, he was not asked that question.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he knew nothing about the matter; and that he had been taken to the Police-court, and the policeman did not identify him.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 21st, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATTHEWS and GILL Prosecuted.
CATHERINE ELLIS . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 16, Baker Street, Commercial Road—we were married about eight years ago—in 1883 I was living with him—in that year I charged him before a Magistrate with an assault upon me—he was dealt with by the Magistrate, and I obtained a separation order—since 1883 I have not seen much of him—on the morning of 15th July last, about eleven, I was coming along Baker Street and saw him on the opposite side—when I had reached a hoarding and was about half-way across the road he fired at me, but the bullet happened to miss me—I saw him take the revolver from his right-hand coat pocket, and I saw it in his hand after he fired—I crossed the street, and he walked up Baker Street towards Nelson Street; I stood outside No. 13 and watched him; he turned the corner, and came back again in five or ten minutes, and said, "Pick up what you like, I will give you Charlie;" and he pointed the revolver at my face—I closed the street-door and ran up to Mrs. Pratt for protection; as I did so he said, "I don't care for six coppers, I am going to do that for her," and he drew his hand across his throat—I was then upstairs in Mrs. Pratt's room, watching through the window, which was wide open, and
he was in the middle of the road—I waited there till he went away—a constable came, and I went out with him, and went to the station—while I was at the window Mrs. Pratt halloed out, "Good God, Kate, he has got a pistol in his hand!"—later on in the day, about half-past five, I saw him again in the Bedford Arms—he came in and threatened me—he said, "Do you say I shot at you?"—I said "Yes"—he said, "Well, I mean to do it; you ought to have your head shot off"—his father's sister was with me—I sent for Constable Anderson, and said, "He has fired at me, I will give him in charge"—he said, "I won't go for a cow like her"—he took hold of my throat, whether it was with his hand or a little knife I don't know, but my throat was cut, and he tore my hands to pieces while I was holding the constable—his father and sister cut his handkerchief from his neck, so he got away; that was after he had had a struggle with the constable—I not see him again till the 4th of August, when he was taken into custody—I lived with a man named Lewis Neelan after I got my separation order, but I left him eleven months ago.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I saw you at eleven I did not call you a b----bastard or a b----convict; I did not say a word to you—when I gave you in charge you said to the constable," I have not fired at her, and I have no revolver"—he searched you, but you had done away with the revolver then—you tried to shoot me with that revolver five months ago in Cannon Street, when you got through a window; I stabbed you in the eye; that was for protection—you had the revolver in your hand then—I did not stab you in the eye previous to that—you never would keep away from the time you came home from your five years—16, Baker Street, is a brothel—I was working thereat 5s. a week—I never took any money there—when you received three months for assaulting me that was in Poplar, in 1883—I was not living with you then—I was at home at work with my brother at the brick work, and you came and threatened me, and said you did not care if you were hung for me; that was when you got copped for burglary.
ALFRED NORTON . I am a publican, and keep the Little Wonder beerhouse, at 11, Baker Street, Commercial Road—on 15th July, between eleven and half-past, the prisoner was in my house—three or four minutes after he left I heard an explosion—it sounded from the opposite side of the road, nearly opposite my house, which is two doors from No. 13—I went to my door, and saw the prisoner on the opposite side of the way, walking slowly up towards Clark Street—I did not see anyone else about—he held his right hand down, and his left hand was swinging—when he got to the top of the street he looked round, and seemed to be spinning a button in his hand—I left him standing there—there was no policemen about till one was fetched—I spoke to him, and he went and spoke to the prisoner—he was standing opposite No. 13—I did not see anything in his hand.
Cross-examined. I did not see you do anything—I did not see your wife for a considerable time after—she said nothing to me; she spoke to my wife.
GEORGE ALLEN (Policeman H 483). On 15th July, between eleven and twelve, I was fetched to Baker Street by a little girl—I saw Mr. Norton in his doorway, and I saw the prisoner standing in the road two or three doors from the beer-house—Mr. Norton spoke to me, and I went
up to the prisoner, and asked what he wanted there—he said nothing—he went away up Baker Street towards Clark Street—some ten minutes after his wife came out of a house in Baker Street—she made a complaint to me, and I accompanied her in the direction in which the prisoner had gone, but saw nothing of him.
JOSEPH LANE (Policeman H 244). On 15th July, about ten minutes to twelve, I was called to Baker Street by a little boy—the prosecutrix came from No. 13, and made a complaint to me, in consequence of which I went part of the way with her towards the station—I then left her, and she went on to the station.
ELLEN SHORT . I now live at 8, Blondin Street, Fairfield Road—on 15th July I lived at 17, John's Place—on the morning of 15th July, between eleven and twelve, as I was sitting by my window, working, I heard a smash at the window of the room, and a pane of glass was broken—I looked out immediately to see who had broken it, but I could not see anybody about—when my husband came home in the evening I spoke to him about it—I went out with him in the evening, and then heard something, in consequence of which we went back to our room, and searched, and between the bedstead and the window he found this bullet (produced)—he went out and brought in a constable, and he picked the bullet up.
THOMAS SHORT . I am the husband of the last witness—on 15th July, when I came home, I saw whore the window had been broken—my wife spoke to me about it—while we were out, in consequence of something I heard, I went home and examined the room, and saw this bullet; I went and fetched a constable, and he picked it up; it was lying under the window, on the first floor.
WILLIAM GILL (Detective H). From instructions I received, on 4th August I went to 16, Baker Street; I there saw Catherine Ellis—she pointed out to me certain spots in Baker Street—I examined the wood on the other side of the hoarding from the place she pointed out, and saw a mark on the wall, such as might be made by a bullet glancing off; there was the mark of lead on the brick—I made this drawing of the place, showing the spot and the distance from it to John's Place, where the window was broken.
JAMES WILLIAM ANDERSON (Policeman H 159). On 15th July, at half-past five, the prisoner was given into my custody by the prosecutrix for shooting at her with a revolver, and she said she was in danger of her life—I told him I should take him into custody—he said, "I won't go for a cow like her"—I struggled with him; I took hold of him by the handkerchief—his father cut the handkerchief from behind, and his sister and mother rescued him from my custody, the prisoner biting me on the left hand in several places; I have the marks now—my coat was torn and my whistle broken in the struggle, and he succeeded in getting away from me—a warrant was issued for his arrest, and on 4th August I took him into custody in Mile End Road—I told him I should take him into custody for shooting at his wife—he said, "My name is not Henry Ellis; it is Alfred Barnardere"—I took him to the station, and he was there charged—he still denied being Ellis.
Cross-examined. You had hold of your wife's throat with your left
hand; her throat was bleeding at the time—I did my utmost to get you away from her—you went quietly when I apprehended you on 4th August—you had been drinking;, but were not intoxicated.
Prisoner's Defence. When I received my three months for assaulting my wife she had been living with another man four years—since she left me twelve months ago I have been leading a life worse than a dog; she has been running on against me with profane language.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ELIZABETH LUCK . I saw you in Baker Street at half-past twelve with your wife, on the right-hand side of Baker Street I heard her call you a foul name—you crossed the road to ask her what she meant by it, when she took up this shell to strike you with—you did nothing to her—she went into 13, and told people that you had a pistol or something in your hand.
Cross-examined. I don't know what happened between eleven and twelve—I was in bed—I heard the report—I only knew the prisoner lately by sight—I did not threaten his wife if she went to the Police-court, or if he got any sentence I would kill her; nothing of the kind.
GEORGE ADAMS . I saw the prisoner in Baker Street about half-past eleven—he went into the Wonder, came out again, and spoke to a neighbour—he then went to the top of Baker Street, and stood there a few minutes—I went indoors, and while there I heard a report—I came out, and asked Mr. Norton what it was—he said he did not know—I saw the prisoner standing there spinning a button or something—I did not see him have any quarrel with his wife—I did not see his wife.
Cross-examined. I live in the same house as Mrs. Pratt—I heard the report, but did not know what it was; it sounded like something clashing against a board—it was just as I got into my back room—I was cautioned for threatening the prosecutrix—I did not threaten her.
LIZZIE PRATT . I did not see the prisoner in Baker Street at eleven—I think it was between twelve and one—I heard him and his wife quarrelling under my window-ledge—she called him a b----bastard, and a returned convict—she came into my place and told me he had either a knife or revolver in his hand—I did not see anything.
Cross-examined. I did not call out, "For God's sake, Kate, come upstairs; he has got a revolver in his hand!"—I did not tell the police so—I heard the report of firearms—I was in bed with my baby—I did not look out of the window—I did look out, but I saw no one.
GUILTY on Second Count.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been convicted of Felony on 8th September, 1884, at the Middlesex Sessions; he was then sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude, and he had also received sentences of Five Years and Seven Years' Penal Servitude.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted,
had been employed at the house ten years—on 15th July the prisoner came into the house about 10 p. m., and asked for a drink—I refused to serve him because he had had sufficient—he used very bad language—I called to Payne to put him out—when Payne went up to him the prisoner struck him—Payne warded off the blow, and got the prisoner out at the further door—three minutes later I saw Payne with his hands in his pocket pass the centre door, towards the private entrance; the public entrance was on my left—there are two public and one private entrances—three minutes after that Payne was brought into the bar insensible, and laid on the seat.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said at the Court that you struck Payne, not that you held up your fist at him—Payne fell on the back of his head.
FREDERICK GEORGE . I am assistant potman at the Queen's Hotel, Victoria Park Road—the prisoner came in on Monday, 15th July, about 9.50 p.m.—he insulted the 'bus conductors who were there—he asked Gower for drink, and was refused—he swore, and I was ordered to put him out—I held the door open—I followed him and Payne out—outside the prisoner struck Payne in the wind two or three times—Payne walked on one side, and put his hands in his jacket pockets—the prisoner followed him about a dozen yards, caught hold of his legs, and threw him—he punched him about the face—I saw Payne fall on the back of his head on the asphalte—several people got hold of the prisoner—Payne was carried in by Picard—I told Picard to hold the prisoner, and I went for a constable—I came back with one, and found the prisoner standing on the kerb, and persons preventing him going away—I accompanied him to the station, when he said, "I meant giving him one, and I am glad I have done it."
HENRY LAMBETH . I look after the omnibus horses outside the Queen's Hotel—on 15th July, about 10 p. m., I saw the deceased, the potman, and the prisoner come out—the prisoner turned and hit deceased in the face two or three times—the deceased warded off the blows, and struck at the prisoner in self-defence—the prisoner knocked him against two or three of us who were standing behind him, and while the deceased was taking breath the prisoner knocked him against the 'bus wheel—he went towards the centre compartment, but dropped some money on the cellar-flap, and while picking it up the horses started, and I saw no more—I had heard the prisoner say that Monday week to the deceased, "I will do for you yet—that was on account of the prisoner's brother, or words to that effect.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said before the Magistrate, "I saw the deceased bring the prisoner out of the house, and tell him to go away. The prisoner then went and struck the deceased in the face; they had then two or three rounds; after that I saw no more."
CHARLES COLLIS . I am a stableman at the Queen's Hotel—I saw the prisoner come out of that house with Payne—he struck Payne in the stomach—he said, "I will give you Kilrain's blow," and hit him again in the stomach—that knocked him up against the 'bus—Kilrain is a prizefighter—the deceased walked away, and stood three or four inches from the lamp, with his back to the prisoner, and his head half turned, and the prisoner struck him behind the left ear and knocked him down insensible—I went to fetch a policeman—I was at the public-house on
the previous Monday between six and seven p.m.—I saw the deceased standing up against the railings, and the prisoner in front of him, using very bad language—one expression was, "I'll do for you yet."
Cross-examined. I did not think much of that expression till what happened on the Monday afternoon.
HENRY PICARD . I am horsekeeper at the Queen's Hotel—on the night of 15th July I saw the prisoner put out of the house; I saw him hit the potman, who protected himself, and walked away—the prisoner ran after him, and hit him by the side of the face and knocked him down—Payne fell on the back of his head—I picked him up; a gentleman held him, and I held the prisoner—I gave him a good hiding; I struck him in the face—the prisoner took off his coat after he was turned out—when Payne was struck he was standing sideways, with his hand in his jacket pocket.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I picked Payne up first, and then went for you.
THOMAS BRAND . I am employed on the Great Eastern Railway—I live at 261, Victoria Park Road—on Monday evening, 16th July, my attention was attracted to a row outside the Queen's Hotel—I crossed the road; I saw the prisoner and Payne, the potman—the prisoner hit Payne in the stomach—Payne pushed him away, and stepped back—I touched Payne on the shoulder, and said, "Why don't you hit him, if he is rushing at you like that?—he said, "I am afraid I shall have to directly"—then the prisoner rushed at him, and hit him in the stomach again, and then hit him in the jaw Payne was talking to me at the time—he fell down when the prisoner hit him in the jaw—he was picked up and taken into the hotel unconscious—he was standing sideways to the prisoner, but I should call it a blow in the jaw, not in the ear.
PERCIVAL CRAWFORD BOYD . I am a Licentiate of the Royal College of Surgeons—I practise in the Victoria Park Road—I was called to the Queen's Hotel on 15th July—I saw the deceased about 10 p. m.—he was suffering from a lacerated wound on the back of the head—he was unconscious, and remained so till he died the following day—I made a post-mortem examination—I found the skull fractured in two places, and an effusion of blood on the brain—that was the cause of death; it was likely to have been caused by a fall—there were no external marks of violence, only a lacerated wound at the back of the head.
HENRY TUTE (Policeman J 410). I was called, and took the prisoner into custody about 10 p. m.—on the way to the station he said, "It serves him right; I meant to do for him"—at the station he said, "I was struck first."
Cross-examined. I did not mention that night that you said you would do for him.
GEORGE WOOD (Inspector J). I was at the station about 11 p. m., when the prisoner was brought in by Tute—George came soon afterwards, and made a statement in the prisoner's presence—when charged the prisoner said, "We had a b----fight; look what he has done to me," and pointed to his mouth, which was very much swollen, and had blood on it—George said the fight lasted ten minutes. The prisoner, in his defence, said the evidence was false; the deceased fell
on the back of his head in a fight which lasted about ten minutes, and he had no intention to do him grievous bodily harm.
GUILTY .— Nine Months Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, September 21st, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FRITH Prosecuted.
FRANK AMOR . I am a warehouseman to Peter Robinson, and live there—I was present at the prisoner's marriage, on 13th September, 1873, with Catherine Mynter, at St. James's, Norlands—I signed the register, of which this (produced) is a certified copy—the prisoner's wife is in Court.
ELIZABETH MARTHA EDWARDS . On 15th December, 1886, I went through the form of marriage with the prisoner at the Registrar's Office in Brick Lane—I was a widow; the prisoner and I are the persons described in this certificate—he said he was a widower with one child, and that he had been living with a woman—I did not know that he had a wife living.
Cross-examined. I was away from you three or four times for several nights at a time, but it was through your brutality; you used to go and sleep with other women—my husband was a soldier, and died in 1884; I was his wife twenty years; I can bring proof of his death.
THOMAS DYSON (Detective Sergeant S). On the 2nd of August I took the prisoner at Glenthorn Road, Shepherd's Bush—he said, "You will have to prove the death of my first wife; that was the case in my brother's case; do you think they will give me in charge?"—his fourth wife was present—I produce two certificates of his marriages with Catherine Mynter and Elizabeth Martha Edwards—I have compared them with the register; they are correct.
Thomas Dyson repeated his former evidence.
GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude. THE COURT commended the conduct of Sergeant Dyson.
MR. BURNEY Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
JULIA WOODCOCK . I live at 183, Graham Road, Hackney—on 13th September, 1883, I was married to the prisoner at Saviour's Church, Blackfriars Road; this is a copy of the certificate, and he told me he was a bachelor—I had known him between six and nine months—he left me, though we had no words; and about a week afterwards, on August 15th, I received information, and went to him next day, and pleaded with him to come home—he said, "I don't intend to come home, I intend to come and sell you up, and throw you into the street; you are not my wife, you are only my whore"—I then made inquiries, and communicated with the police—I saw him again on Monday, the 19th, and told him I had heard he was a married man, and I should lock him up for big a my—he got up his umbrella, and said he would break my head over the banisters—that was at my house, Graham Road—on 21st August I charged him.
Cross-examined. When he threatened to break my neck he said, "Go across to the Police-station and lock me up"—I do not know why I did not mention that at the Police-court, but I can bring proof of it.
KATE BROWN . I am a widow, and live at 3, Archibald Street, Bow—I was present at Bromley Parish Church in November, 1863, and saw my sister Louisa married to the prisoner; they lived together six years, and then separated.
Cross-examined. They had three children—during those twenty-six years my sister has had a great number of addresses, out all about Bow—the prisoner never called on her—when they separated he was bound to allow her £130 a year—my husband was one of the trustees to the deed, and money was paid to her for two or three years, but none has been paid for fifteen years—she did not claim any money from him—after that they became total strangers to each other—their eldest son is twenty-two—I lost sight of the prisoner, and can scarcely recognise him now; I should not have known him—the separation was by mutual consent.
Re-examined. For the last six months my sister has lived with me, but not before.
GEORGE WOODS (Police Inspector J). On 23rd August, about noon, I went with the prosecutrix to the prisoner's shop, 20, Kingsland Road—he is an ornamental sign-writer—I said, "Is this your wife?" pointing to the prosecutrix—he said, "No"—I said, "Have you seen your two sons?"—he said, "From time to time, and have sent their mother money"—I said, "Your wife?"—he said, "Yes"—he said he had not seen his wife for twenty years—he was taken to the station, and charged with big a my—he made no reply—I produce certificates of the marriages—I have compared them with the registers; they are correct.
Cross-examined. The information was lodged by the second wife the day before I arrested him—I asked him questions to find out where his wife was, not to make him incriminate himself—I knew where the eldest son was living, but have not brought him here—what the prisoner said was," No, I have never seen my first wife for twenty years; I have from time to time seen my two sons, and sent money to their mother."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CRANSTOUN Prosecuted.
FRANK BENNETT . I am a chemist, of 315, Edgware Road—on Sunday night, at 11.15, the police called me up, and I found my shop window broken—I missed a case of tooth-brushes and some ruby fluid from the window—I identify this bottle; my name is on it.
Policeman F 90. On Sunday night, September 1st, about 11.10, I was in the Edgware Road and heard glass break—I ran down the centre of the road, and saw the prisoner and two others close to Mr. Bennett's window; they saw me, and ran away—I followed the prisoner, and as he ran he dropped this bottle on the footway—I caught him and said, "You have done a pretty thing"—he said, "It is not me more than the others"—I took him to the station, and charged him with burglary—he said, "I went to make water against the shop window, and the police came up; I had just come from Hyde Park with my girl"—the case of tooth-brushes is still missing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you pick the bottle up and go straight to Mr. Bennett's—I did not say at the Police-court that I saw you making water in the doorway, nor did I see you do so.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate." I was in company with these two men, who were both the worse for liquor."
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he heard a smashing of glass, and picked the bottle up, and ran after the other two men.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on 24th September, 1888.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
EDMUND HENRY GIRLING . I am a wine merchant, of 53A, City Road—on 12th August the prisoner came and said he had come from Mr. Allen, of Aylesbury, a customer of mine, to pay an account of £14 14s. 6d.—he brought this cheque for £24 15s.—I gave him a receipt, and a cheque on Lloyd's for the change, £10 0s. 6d—I paid the cheque in next morning, and it was returned marked" No account"—he brought this copy of the account which Mr. Allen owed me—it is not my writing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said that the paper was given you by Mr. Allen, who had sold his house at Aylesbury, and that the cheque was given by the present occupier of the house—Allen has left, and I cannot find him—I have had no communication with the present occupier—I do not know whether this is Allen's writing.
Wright—it was sent to us, and we returned it marked "No account"—we issued the cheque-book to Messrs. Heaton, Butler, and Baynes in December, 1885—that account has been closed some years.
SAMUEL BRISCOE . I am principal of the Windmill Tavern, Tabernacle Street, Finsbury, and a customer of Mr. Girling—on 12th July the prisoner came, and said he was sent by Mr. Girling, who was out of cash, and would I kindly cash this cheque for £10 0s. 6d.—I gave him £1, and told him I would give him the rest in the morning if I found it was correct.
Cross-examined. You said you had been to Mr. Girling to pay an account, and he had not gold, and gave you this cheque—I went to him to see if that was right, but he had closed—you represented yourself as a publican named Allen.
ROBERT RANDALL MONGER . I am cashier to Heaton, Butler, and Baynes of 14, Garrick Street—their premises were broken into for the fourth time on the 12th or 13th July, and a cheque-book was stolen—this is one of the cheques out of it.
Cross-examined. I did not ask you any questions—you said that you were introduced to Allen that day by two men—you told me where they were to be found, and their names—I went to them, and apprehended them—they did not say that they had seen you in Allen's company—they gave Allen's address to the detective.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ALFRED GOULD (Detective Officer). I saw you at the Court on the 12th, and on the 13th, when you were charged you said, "A man named Allen sent me to pay that bill, that is the man you want"—I said, "Where shall I find Allen?"—you said, "He was only introduced to me that day"—you said nothing about Highbury—you said that very likely he would be found at Richmond, and Wilmot told me so also—you said you first met him at the Black Horse—Rogers and Wilmot were brought to the station in my absence, and discharged—I find that Allen kept a house at Highbury, and has left—I did not inquire into his character—I have no idea where he has gone—a man named Allen left Richmond on the 12th, but I do not know that he was the proprietor of the house at Highbury—I found his mother, but have been unable to find him.
TAYLOR. I am a jeweller, of 89, Strand—on Monday, 12th August, at 10 a. m., the prisoner came to my place, and we went to Tottenham Court Road; he did some business there, and we went to the Primrose and to the Black Horse—before we got to the Primrose he spoke to a gentleman whom I do not know—that was about twelve o'clock—we then went to Lavy's, in Minister Square, and I left him in Holborn at two o'clock—you showed a diamond ring to a third party, but I do not know whether his name was Allen—I am sorry I am here.
Cross-examined. I do not know Allen.
EDWARD WILMOT . I am an army and navy beltmaker, and have known the prisoner four or five months—Allen is an old friend of mine, living at Richmond—I saw him on the 12th, but did not introduce him to the prisoner—the Allen who I was with I have heard kept a public-house
at Aylesbury—I do not know whether the prisoner had ever seen him before.
JOHN HODGES . I am a shoemaker—I have seen the prisoner dealing in jewellery—I know Allen through my friend Wilmot—I believe him to be the proprietor of a house at Aylesbury, but I have never been there—I saw him in the prisoner's company on the 12th—the prisoner came into a public-house where he was, and produced a diamond ring; everybody looked at it, but I never saw the prisoner with him in my life.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he never saw Allen till the 12th, when he asked him to pay this bill for him, and said that he kept a large distillery, and was about taking a large house at Reading; that Allen wrote out the items of the bill in a public-house, without which he, the prisoner, could not have got them; that he went back and gave Allen the sovereign, who then ran away.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court on 20th October, 1884, in the name of Frederick Hawker, when he was sentenced to Six Years' Penal Servitude.— Nine Months' Hard Labour, having the remainder of his former sentence to serve.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
THE RECORDER suggested that if the prisoner was, as he stated, trying to obtain back money which he had given to the prosecutrix for an immoral consideration, that would not make it a highway robbery, but only a violent taking of the law into his own hands, under a claim of right upon which he could not have recovered in a Court of Law, as he could not sue on an immoral contract.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 21st, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
CHARLES GEORGE TIMMS . I am a clerk in the Central Office, Royal Courts of Justice—I have two original affidavits, marked in the High Court, of the action between Clark and Gladwish—this is the original affidavit of dark, sworn on 9th May, 1889, before Mr. Pike, and this the affidavit of Gladwish, sworn at 19, Coleman Street, on 14th May, 1889, before Mr. Worsely Phillips, a Commissioner—it is signed "W. E. Gladwish," and is marked, "Filed on behalf of the defendant," and is signed by Mr. Gosnell, solicitor for the defendant—they were filed in our office, and stamped with the seal of the High Court—the last one was filed on behalf of the defendant by Mr. Gosnell, solicitor, I believe—this is the order made on the summons for immediate judgment under Order 14
—it is under the seal of the High Court, and refers to Gladwish's and Clark's affidavits—this is the judgment.
Cross-examined. I have no knowledge of the transactions.
JOHN WORSELY PHILLIPS . I am a solicitor of the Supreme Court, practising at 19, Coleman Street—I am a Commissioner to Administer Oaths—this affidavit "B" was sworn before me on 13th May—before I wrote my name I administered the oath to the person coming before me—he swore that it was his writing, and that the contents were true.
Cross-examined. I do not know who the person was.
WILLIAM CLARK . I am a tailor, at 132, Regent Street—to the best of my belief the signature to this affidavit "B" is Gladwish's writing—I have seen him write, and can produce his writing—(The affidavit contained the following passages: "I say I only received part of the consideration for which the said bill was given";" the said bill was drawn, accepted, and made payable in France, and dishonoured there, and I believe it does not carry interest"; "I was bankrupt in France in 1886, but the plaintiff would not prove his alleged debts, not with standing that I had included him as creditor in my said bankruptcy, and I believe the plaintiff was asked to take, and was offered, a dividend out of my estate in bankruptcy, but he did not accept such dividend";" I believe on these grounds I have a good defence to the action ")—I authorised my son to make this affidavit—it is signed, and was sworn by him (This contained the passages:" The defendant at the commencement of the action was, and still is, indebted to the plaintiff £24 12s. 3d., the amount of the bill, and £5 interest";" It is within my own knowledge that the aforesaid debt was incurred, and for the consideration above stated, and that the said bill still remains unpaid ")—I first had a transaction with the prisoner in 1881—on 27th February, 1882, I took an order from him for an Angola cape-jacket suit, £4 14s. 6d.; and a riding habit for Mrs. Gladwish, £7 17s. 6d.—the prices were mentioned at the time—on March 1st,. 1882, I got an order from him for an olive twill dull morning coat, £3 13s. 6d.; ditto vest, 19s.; Angola trousers, £1 10s.—next day he came to try on, and ordered a stitched hat for himself. 9s. 6d., and a black cockade for his servant, 1s. 9d.—altogether the amount was £19 6s. 9d.—he took away one suit when he came to try on the other things—the others were sent by his order to an address in Calais—in course of post I received this letter—(This was headed "De Gladwish and Roberts, St. Pierre le Calais, 30th March, 1883. "It said that the letter of 27th was to hand; that he was sorry the account should have been left standing longer, than the usual terms of credit, but that as he was going to England early next week, he would call and settle it. It added that Mr. Bagley's address was 3, Napier Terrace, Richmond. (Signed) W. E. Gladwish)—Mr. Bagley was the prisoner's father-in-law, and was introduced by him as a customer—my letter to him was application for payment—I sent an invoice to him every quarter—I had sent him at least three copies of the account up to that time—he did not come the next week—I did not see him—I sent him a copy of this letter on 19th July, 1883:" I must request an immediate settlement of your account, otherwise I shall place the matter in the hands of my solicitors"—I received this letter in reply—(This said that he was exceedingly sorry he had been put to so much trouble, but that, having been put to great expense with a lawsuit, and business having been bad, he had been utterly unable to settle; but that if he would draw on him at two
months he would accept his bill)—in consequence I sent this bill, "D," drawn by me—it came back to me in due course of post, with the writing in of the place where the acceptance is to be payable, and the acceptor—that is the prisoner's writing—I endorsed it, and paid it away, giving him notice that I had paid it away—(The bill was for £19 5s. 9d.)—it would be due on 4th October—on 25th September I wrote him a letter, of which this is a copy—(This reminded the prisoner that the bill would be due on 4th October, that it was out of his hands, and that he hoped he would make arrangements to meet it.)—I received this from his wife in reply—I did not renew the bill afterwards—I did not see him from October, 1883, when the bill was dishonoured, and I did not know where he was—I sent repeated letters to Calais—I was never called on to prove in his bankruptcy; he gave me no notice of his bankruptcy—no dividend was ever sent to me—I made inquiries, and about ten days before I issued the writ, on April 30th, I got information of his address—I put the matter in the hands of my solicitor—I have had no money—I conclude I have been put to an amount equal to my account, if not more, by his opposing the judgment.
Cross-examined. Mr. Wilcox acted on my instructions through the whole transaction; whatever he did and said in the matter was with my authority.
WALTER MORGAN WILCOX . I am a solicitor of the Supreme Court—I issued this writ, and served it on the prisoner—I was in possession of the papers—the prisoner gave notice to see the bill on the day of the return of the summons, under Order 14; that was the only thing he asked to see—he did not attend at my office to ask to see it—Mr. Miller, from Mr. Gosnell's office, attended at chambers—I did not see the prisoner there; he put his affidavit in—he did not pay a farthing into Court—we got judgment—before the affidavit was sworn, no application was made to me to inquire into the circumstances of this debt; Mr. Gosnell did not come and ask me about it—I had heard nothing of any French bankruptcy till the affidavit was put in and used—the opposition to the summons was a cause of considerable expense to Mr. Clark, as well as the costs, which he has not got.
Cross-examined. When I saw Mr. Miller at Judges' Chambers, after the Master had ordered money to be paid into Court, I suggested to him that he should make an offer to pay the debt and costs—on 16th May I received a letter—I afterwards saw Mr. Miller, and I think I proposed that if he could get £5 down I should be obliged to him, but that I could not accept £1 a month installment, unless the defendant supplied a guarantee—I should say Mr. Gladwish could not do it; it did not come off—on 25th July Mr. Clark swore the information at Guildhall—on 8th August I went before the Alderman; there was an adjournment for eight or ten days—I did not in the interval renew my suggestions to Mr. Miller that the debt and costs should be paid by instalments—I cannot say I did not say to Mr. Miller in the Guildhall justice-room, "Cannot you make an arrangement and pay the money?"—I do not think I authorised a subsequent proposal to be made for the settlement of this crime on the payment of the debt and costs.
Re-examined. This is a letter written by Mr. Gosnell to me without prejudice—(This was an offer to pay the debt and costs by monthly instalments of £1, and that if this were not accepted he could prove to the Court that he had
been carrying on business at a loss, and had no meant of satisfying judgment.) This was the answer on 17th May—(This said that if the prisoner could procure a guarantee, he would advise the acceptance of £1 monthly)—that would have left him 2 1/2 years to pay off his indebtedness—I could not get it—nothing else was done after that—when the Alderman heard the case, and committed the prisoner, negotiations on our part ceased.
The Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
EDWARD PARSONS . I am a clerk to Messrs. Permezel, of 27, Cheapside, silk manufacturers—on 12th August I received this case for them; it was put, whole and unbroken, on to the ground floor of 27, Cheapside, in the passage, at one o'clock, and was quite safe—I next saw it there about four; two boards were split, and lifted up, and three parcels of satin had been taken from it—other satin was left in the box.
FREDERICK ALBERT SIMMER . I am manager to Messrs. Pemezel, of Cheapside—these pieces of satin are their property, value £7 15s.—they are exactly similar to the satin in this box—there are about fifty yards in a roll—these have been cut, not by us; these are portions of two pieces; the third had not been found—our mark is on the goods.
GEORGE DARLING (Police Sergeant MR 4). On 12th August I received information at six o'clock about this satin, and went to Mr. Attenborough's, a pawnbroker, at 93, Old Kent Road, where I saw the prisoner offering this piece of satin in pledge—I said, "I have had information that a quantity of satin has been stolen in the City, and this answers the description; I shall take you to the station and make inquiries"—she said, "The satin was given to me to pledge by a man standing in the road; he is outside"—coming out of the shop I asked her to point out the man to me; she did not do so—I took her to the station—I found another piece of satin in the basket she had with her.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I asked if the goods were yours—you said, "No, I am obliging a man, a friend of mine, who is at the door"—you did not say, "There is the man"—you did not say before the inspector," If you had turned round you would have had the man instead of me"—I asked you to point out the man; you did not do so; I stopped some minutes there—no other officer was with me—I did not say, "We will find the man all right."
PERCY NEALE I am assistant to Mr. Attenborough, pawnbroker, of 81, Walworth Road—I produce this piece of satin, which was pledged with us for 8s. on the 12th, about four or five p. m, I believe—I cannot identify the person who pledged it.
WILLIAM SAUNDERS (Detective, City). I was at Grange Road Police-station on Monday, 12th August, about nine p. m.—I saw the prisoner, and said, "I am a police-officer from the City; and shall take you into custody for stealing and receiving three pieces of satin"—she said, "I did not know they were stolen"—at the station, when charged, she said, "I have no fixed residence; the satin was given to me by a man to pledge; I was going to live with him; I have been after a room to-day"—I said, "Can you give me the description of the man?"—she replied, "No, only that he is fair"—I said, "Cannot you give me any further
description"—she said, no, she knew nothing of him—I asked her whether she knew where he lived—she said, no, she only met him that day—when she gave no address, I showed her the two keys, and she said she was going after a place—I found her address after she was committed for trial.
Cross-examined. You said the goods had been given to you by a man who had asked you to live with him—you distinctly said you had no fixed residence, not that you did not care to tell me where you were living—at the Mansion House you applied for me to go and see you, and when I went you refused to give me information.
The Prisoner, in her statement before the Magistrate, said she did not know the satin was stolen. In her defence she repeated that statement, and said it was given to her to pledge by a man who said he was a commercial traveller and dealer.
GUILTY on the second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
CHARLES BATES . I am a chimney sweeper, of 31, Castle Street, St. Martin's Lane—I keep a horse and pony at the King's Head Yard, Short's Gardens, Endell Street—my pony was safe in my stable at seven p. m. on 2nd August, I locked it up myself—about four a. m. I was called up by the police—I went to the stable, and found the hasp pulled out of the door, the door open, and the pony gone—on the following Wednesday, the 9th, Cooper and Stone brought the pony to me—I was in my parlour at 31, Castle Street—I sent for a policeman, and Stone was arrested and charged with stealing the pony—we went to Bow Street—the detective took this receipt from one of the Stones, who bought the pony for 35s.—I valued it at £10.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Two years ago next month the pony was bought at Aldridge's under the hammer for 25s.—it is a good honest pony, and worth £10 to me—he has a sand-crack and cut knees and cut ears.
Re-examined. I am quite sure it is my pony.
GEORGE RISDON . I am a cab proprietor, of Oakum Street, Chelsea—I first saw this pony on Friday, 2nd August, in the stable about 12 or 12.30 a. m.—the prisoner was there with Morris, my driver, and another man: I don't know who he was—I was in bed when they brought it round; my driver came up to me, nothing was said in the prisoner's presence—on Sunday, the 4th, I saw the prisoner and Morris and Stone, a young man, and Stone's brother—Morris said they thought they had a purchaser for the pony, and then they said perhaps Brooke (that is Stone) would buy it, and they went down the yard and sold him the pony, I believe—I saw them all four driving the pony away.
Cross-examined. I did not recommend Morris to Stone to sell the pony—I am positive I saw you on 2nd August between twelve and halfpast at night—I have had no letters from Morris within the last five weeks that I know of—I have not sent him any money.
JAMES SCANDRETH (Police Sergeant E). I saw the prisoner at Bow Street on the 10th, after his apprehension, and said to him," You will be charged with stealing a pony"—he said, "I know nothing at all about it"—I showed him this receipt," Aug. 4, 1889. Bought of R. Sims a pony, 35s. Richard Sims, Chas. Stone"—he said, "That is not
my writing"—I showed him this postcard—he said, "I will tell you the truth. I sold the pony, but I did not steal it"—he told me who stole it—the two Stones, father and son, were given into custody for this—the younger Stone said something to me at the station—the prisoner did not hear that.
GEORGE STONE . I am a dealer in iron, living at 3, Oakum Street, Chelsea—on 10th August I went to Neale Street, close by—I did not see Jarvey or Cooper, but I saw the prisoner there—I said to him," You are the man that sold my brother a pony"—he said, "No, it was not me, it was Browning"—I said, "No, it was you; you are the man that wrote the receipt out and received the money for it"—he said, "Well, let me go; don't say anything about the job, and there is a fiver for you when the job is all over"—I said, "No, there is my father and brother in Bow Street, and I would not let them stop there for twenty fivers"—my father and brother were in custody at Bow Street for this—I called a constable, and had the prisoner taken to Bow Street—I was present when Rawlinson sold the horse to my brother—this was the receipt, and I wrote my brother's name on it—Sims was the name the prisoner gave—Charles Stone bought the pony—I know nothing of Browning, I might know him if I saw him—ne was with the prisoner when the horse was sold, I don't know his proper name—35s. was paid for the horse to the prisoner, who called himself Sims—I never saw him before—my brother is here, he bought the pony and lent it to my father to go to work with.
Cross-examined. I ran after and caught you in Neale Street—you stood by the door, and I took you by the collar—you offered to take me to Morris; I was afraid of your getting away, and sent for a constable—you said, "There is Browning round the corner"—I said, "I won't wait for no Browning; I will have the man that sold the pony"—before the pony was sold, you and Morris came together, and jumped up in the the trap together to have the pony tried—Morris came first, and said there was a pony down the yard belonging to you.
EDWARD GLIDDON (Policeman R 28). The prisoner was given into my custody on 10th August, about 10. 30—he was told the charge; he said, "I know nothing about the pony; I will go to the station with you"—George Stone gave him in charge; he said, "That is the man that sold the pony to my brother, and I see him pay for it and give the receipt"—the prisoner said, "I know nothing about the pony; I will go to the station with you."
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty of stealing the pony. I sold the pony, but I did not know that it was stolen at the time."
Witness for the Defence.
12, Rothesay Street, Bermondsey—on Friday, 2nd August, you called for me, and we went to the Vaudeville Theatre—we left there about eleven o'clock, and went towards home; we both live the same way—you left me about 12. 30—you were not out of my company all the evening, from the time we went to the theatre till 12. 30—you met me first about eight o'clock.
Cross-examined. I have not been in Court before to-day—when I went to see the prisoner in prison, he asked me to come and say what I knew—this was the Friday before Bank Holiday—I am sure it was past twelve when he left me; I think it was near half past twelve; I don't think the public-houses were closed—I left him by himself—about a week afterwards he asked me to give evidence—I work at nothing—the prisoner is not related to me—my husband travels with George Sanger—I do not know Morris; I have heard of Brownjug; I fancy I have been in his company about once—I did not see him on this Friday—I have not seen him since.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that on the Saturday morning he met Morris, who offered him a pony for sale; that he saw it, refused to buy it, but offered to sell it for Morris; that Morris said he had bought it in the Old Kent Road for £1, and that anything he could sell it for over 30s. he could keep for himself, and that he sold it not knowing it was stolen.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 23rd, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. FULTON and GILL Prosecuted.
THOMAS HAMMOND . I am a clerk to Dr. Macdonald, Coroner for the North-Eastern division of Middlesex—on 25th July I was present at the inquest held with regard to the death of Maurice Frank Marriner, when the prisoner gave evidence—she was cautioned by the Coroner—I took down her evidence as she gave it; it was read over to her and signed by the Coroner—the witnesses signed their depositions, but the prisoner did not, as she was committed (read, "Minnie Marriner, I am at present an inmate of Hackney Workhouse; I am the widow of David Hill Marriner, coachman—the deceased was my son, Maurice Frank Marriner, aged four months—I work at the fur business—I was from home all day, and left deceased in the charge of Martha Forwood—I had three other children; one is dead; there was no inquest on that—Forwood attended to my children during the time I was at work—Forwood, myself, another woman, and her young man occupied the same room with the children—I used to stop away from the house three or four days a week—I told Forwood the child did not get on—nobody asked me to take the child to a doctor; I did not do so; I hoped it would get better—I did not see deceased was clean, as he was abed when I got home—he had no toe-nails when born—his life was not insured."
prisoner came to live with me at Lee Terrace—I had the hall house, consisting of three rooms and a wash-house; they were occupied by myself, my two brothers, the prisoner, and her children—I slept in the front room, also my brother, the prisoner, and her three children; it was only for the last few days that my brother came into the room—we were all living together—we had a house when the prisoner came first, but the house was taken, and we had to get out of it, and had to take this half-house—there was then me and a lodger named Eliza Newton, upstairs, and Sarah Davis—they slept in the front room when we first went into the half-house, and two more young women that Newton had staying with her, and four children—the prisoner slept on the floor with her two children—there were ten of us altogether—there were two rooms leading into each other, with folding doors; we kept them open—there were four children, the prisoner's three and my one; Eliza Newton also had a child, that slept with her—all of us women and the five children slept in the two rooms—I had 15s. a week with my baby; it was an illegitimate child—the prisoner never made any arrangement with me as to lodging and keeping her children—she said she was going to look for a room, and would I let her stop there till she could get a place, as we had to leave the house—she came to me for two days before I went to Lee Terrace—when she came there we did not make any arrangement as to what she was to pay; I was to look after the baby—I had the baby before she came to live with me, about the beginning of May, and she offered to give me 3s. a week for it, and at the end of May she came with the other two children—altogether there were five children then—nothing was said as to how the two children were to be looked after and fed, because she had a room to herself when she first came—I gave the two a bit of food, and she gave me 1s. 6d. on Saturday, the first week, and 1s. 6d. for the baby—she used to go to work about half-past eight in the morning—it would be very late when she came home; the baby would not be up in the morning when she left, and it was a-bed when she came home—during the last few weeks some nights she did not come home at all—she said it was too far for her to walk—it was-some distance from her work—at first she used to come home every Sunday, but the last few weeks she did not, except about three times; when she did come home she slept with the children—the deceased child was never a fat baby; it was a very thin child—at first I fed it on condensed milk; it did not get on with that; it got on better with cow's milk, and I gave it that—I did not continue to do so, because it was too expensive; I went back to condensed milk—I told the prisoner that the baby was falling away, at the end; she could see that herself—I told her it needed a doctor, and she said she would give me the money for a doctor, she would get it off her young man—the child did not seem ill; it had diarrhoea; that was when I fed it on cow's milk, I think—when I changed the milk again from condensed milk to cow's milk it brought on diarrhoea; that was about three weeks before it was taken away—I think it was about a fortnight before it was taken away that I told her it ought to have a doctor; I spoke to her twice about it, and she said the same thing, that she would get the money for me to take him to a doctor—she never spoke about taking him herself; I believe she did the last time; she said she would come home early on Saturday and take it—it had no outdoor clothes; it had one frock, three petticoats, and two shirts
—in the daytime I looked after all the four children, the prisoner's three and my own—Newton had her own child—mine will be four years old in November; it is able to run about and go out; it used to go and play about with the others—the prisoner's two other children played about in the yard; one is seven and the other four; they seemed all right—I took the baby out once to some friends at a laundry in Mandeville Street; it was one fine day—on other days it used to sleep a great deal; it used to lie in the yard when fine on the prisoner's washing-stand, on a pillow; that was not because it had no clothes to go out in; it was dressed before it was put there; it had nothing to wear on its head—the last few weeks it used to sleep a great deal, from the time it went to bed at night until after two the next day, without any food—I used to put it to bed about ten, when it had its last food—it used to have bread and milk for about a fortnight, then I fed it on biscuit soaked in water and milk thrown into it—it cost about 1s. a week for cow's milk, and I had two small tins a week when I had Nestle's, that made 7d. a week—it always sucked its thumbs from the time it came to me—I feed it three times a day when I first had it, and for the last few weeks only twice a day, because it was not awake—the prisoner knew it slept a good many hours, because Sarah Davis told her so—one week she gave me 9s., one week 1s. 6d., and three weeks half-a-crown, once 5s., and once 4s. 6d.; 1s. 6d. was the smallest sum she ever gave me—my brother said she was imposing upon me, and it was impossible for me to keep the children on that money, and she would have to take them away, and she said she would try and do better next week, and that week she did give me 9s., and each week after that she lowered it—my brother slept in the same room for the last two or three weeks; no other man slept in the room—there was the prisoner's bed, my own bed, and a couch—the prisoner's bed was on the floor; the two children slept on the floor with the mother; the three did at first for a few days, and when she did not come home one night I had the baby in my bed, and she told me that I nearly suffocated it; and after that I put it in a lemonade-box with one of her pillows in it—I had the care of a child of hers before this; that child died, that is nearly two years ago; it was seven weeks old—during the ten weeks this child was with me I only took it out once—I remember the relieving officer coming on a Wednesday and seeing this child—on the Tuesday before that the prisoner did not say anything to me about the child or about the workhouse—Wednesday was the first day I heard of their going into the workhouse—she did not tell me on the Tuesday to take it to the workhouse—I don't remember saying so before the Coroner—the child was washed every day, but it was late in the day—there was never a day passed that it was not washed; if it was late in the evening, I always washed it before it went to bed again—the other children were washed; I used to wash them; I bathed them several times, but the people in the house said it only encouraged the mother to stay away the more—the prisoner told me she was going away to live with somebody, and take the two children, and I was to take the baby for half-a-crown a week—I had half-a-crown a week the last three weeks before it was taken away—she never said anything as to spending that money on the baby; she has said so since; I had to keep the three children on it—soon after she came to me she asked me to insure the baby in the same company that I had my own insured in, the Liverpool Victoria, but they would not take it without the mother was there.
Prisoner. I gave her the half-crown expressly for the baby—I gave her 5s. at first, and one time I pawned my things, and gave her 2s. one week when I did not earn anything, and the next week I earned 10s., and I gave 9s. out of it.
Witness. She gave me the half-crown a week for the three children—when she was going away she said she would give me half-a-crown a week for the baby, so that the young man she lived with should not know it—she used to come home regularly the first part of her time, but not towards the end—she very often went away of a morning without a breakfast, the last few mornings; sometimes I gave her 1d. or 2d.—the eldest child used to go to school for a time.
SARAH DAVIS . I am single—I am twenty-one years of age; I do nothing for my living; I have done nothing since last November—in July last I was lodging at 3, Lee Terrace, Homerton—I lived in the same room with Martha Forwood, and slept in the same bed with her, and her little girl and a young man; I don't wish to say who he is—I remember the prisoner and her three children being there; they slept in a bed on the floor—I have lived with Miss Forwood since last November—I moved with her to Lee Terrace from a previous residence—when we first had the deceased child it used to be fed three times a day; at the latter part of the time only once or twice; it was fed on scalded bread, and water poured off, and milk and sugar—it used to sleep a long time; once it slept for twenty four hours—during the latter part of the time it used to go to bed at six or seven, and wake up about two the next day—it used to have a bottle of milk sometimes when it went to bed, when we thought it wanted it—I used to go to bed about half-past nine or a quarter to ten—the last three or four weeks the prisoner only came home about twice in a week—she said she used to sleep with some friend in the City Road, I don't know the name; she said it was nearer her business—I never spoke to her about the baby—Miss Forwood looked after the other two children as well as she could—the baby had not many clothes; it had not sufficient to change and keep it clean; it only had two night-dresses, one rotted away and one other—we had to take them off and wash them when the child was in bed—the prisoner must have known what clothes the child had, because she supplied them—the child slept with the mother on the floor up to the last week; then it was put in a lemonade-box; once or twice it slept with me—one night when the mother came home she said she found the baby suffocated; that was about three weeks before July; that night Miss Forwood was at the foot of the bed with the baby, and I and the young man and Miss Forwood's baby at the other end—Eliza Newton occupied the back room to herself; there were folding doors; other people slept in her room—the child was washed; I have washed it many times—I was there on the 17th when the relieving officer came—they were then in a most abominable state; lice in their heads, and so on—I had noticed their state before the officer came.
ELIZA NEWTON . I now live in Rushmore Road—I did live at Lee Terrace, and occupied a room there of Miss Forwood, it was a room with folding doors, the back parlour, at 3s. a week—my room was separate—I believe about eight persons slept in the front parlour; I and my baby were in the back room—I used to see the prisoner there of a morning when she went out to work—she used to stay out about two nights a
week—she went out without breakfast—she used to tell me that she had to go to the City to get Forwood the money she had to give her—I was very seldom at home in the day, I used to go with my baby to my mother—I hardly ever used to see the deceased baby—I noticed that it was going bad, and I told Miss Davis, and I believe she told Miss Forwood to take it to the Infirmary—I noticed it was going thin; it was very seldom clean.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner take her boots out one day and come home without them, and I have the ticket for them now.
JOHN RIPON MARRIOTT . I am Relieving Officer of District No. 9 of the Hackney Union—in consequence of certain information I went on 17th July to 3, Lee Terrace, about half-past eight in the evening—I found the ground floor in the occupation of the witness Forwood—I found there three children, who, I afterwards learnt, were the prisoner's; one was described as George Marriner, aged six, Minnie, aged three, and Maurice, five months; the two elder, boy and girl, were in a very neglected dirty state, the little one was almost naked, with a piece of rag round its waist—I found the children in the kitchen—I asked to go into the sleeping apartment—eight persons slept in it—it was rather dirty and neglected—in consequence of the condition of the children I took them to the workhouse, with the assistance of the girls—I had received information about the children from Mr. Delahay, one of the officers of the Society for the Protection of Children—there was only one bed in the sleeping room, no sofa or couch—I am not certain whether there was a table—the bed was an ordinary one, four feet by six—the child was removed to the infirmary the same evening—next morning, the 18th, the prisoner came to the workhouse—I asked her how it was that she left her children in that state—she said she did not like to come to me for a medical officer, because she was afraid that we should take her child from Brentford School—that is an elder one; I did not know that we had one there—she said she had given Martha Forwood what she could to keep them, and the reason she stayed away so much was so that Forwood should be able to spend the money she had on the children, and not on her—she came to the Union, and I persuaded her to stay there—the child had simply a piece of rag round the waist, clothing had to be borrowed for the whole of them to bring them down.
ROBERT EVANS. M. R. C. S . I practise at 74, Brookby's Walk, Homerton—on 15th July, having received some information, I went with an officer of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, to 3, Lee Terrace—I there saw the prisoner's three children—they were all in a very filthy condition, and very insufficiently clothed—the baby had only a rag round it, the other children were in dirty chemises, they were swarming with vermin; the baby was very much emaciated, and in a very filthy neglected state; the buttocks, genitals, and thighs had eczema, which was due, no doubt, to their neglected state; it was suffering from insufficient nourishment and want of care—the room was in a very filthy condition, so were the bed-clothes, what there were, and the stench was very great indeed.
JOHN JOSEPH GORDON . I am a Licentiate of the R. C. Ph. and Surgeons of Edinburgh, and am Medical Superintendent of Hackney Infirmary—about quarter to eleven on the night of the 17th July I was called to the receiving ward to see this child; it was sucking ravenously at a feeding-bottle
with milk in it; it was in an emaciated condition, and I immediately handed it over to the infirmary, where I attended it till it died at quarter to nine p.m., on 22nd July—between then and the 17th it had been properly fed, and received every attention—it could not retain food, after taking it, in a very short time it would all come back, the stomach was in such a weak debilitated condition it could not digest the food—the thumbs were marked regularly, as if it did nothing else but suck its thumbs—I made a post-mortem examination—there were no marks of violence on it—there was eczema about the genitals and buttocks, and excoriation as if excrement had been left in its clothes, and irritation had set it up—there was no disease whatever in any of the internal organs, with the exception of the base of both lungs there was a little hypostatic condition, not disease—there was not a particle of fat about the heart and kidneys, which is generally found—the muscles were flabby and bloodless; there was no fatty tissue beneath the skin where it is generally found—there was a little curdled milk with a little mucus in the stomach—the small intestines were contracted; the walls were very thin, and almost empty—there was a little faces in the large intestine—the brain and membranes were healthy—in my opinion, death was due to exhaustion, from insufficient or improper nourishment—I had the child weighed the morning after its admission; it weighed 7 1b. 6 oz.—the age was entered as five months—the normal weight of a child at that age is 12 lb. or 14 lb—it did not weigh quite what it ought to have weighed when born; 7 lb 6 oz. would be about the average weight of a male child when born—I was present before the coroner—I heard the girl Forwood give evidence as to the food given to the child, and I have heard her evidence to-day—the account she has given of the food was decidedly improper; you might as well not have given it any food at all—it was improper in quality, and not sufficient—a child of that age ought to be fed every two or three hours at farthest during the daytime.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I had no idea the baby was like that; I told Martha Forwood if I had a good week I would give her money, and he should go to the doctor's; I have given her what money I could for the children's support, and have gone without myself; I distinctly told her that the 2s. 6d. a week was for the baby alone. I stayed with a friend of mine when I did not go home, because I had no chance of a breakfast in the morning, and I was too far from my work; the last week I was at work I only got 2s. 10 1/2 d., and I took her four loaves of bread and a pound of dripping."
The prisoner, in her defence; repeated in substance the above statement.
NOT GUILTY . The JURY considered that the witness Forwood should be severely censured.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MESSRS. BODKIN and ARTHUR GILL
got into an omnibus belonging to the London General Omnibus Company, at the Queen of England in Goldhawk Road; that is the starting-place for the 'buses to the City—before it started the deceased, Mr. Robert Bowman Diack, got into the omnibus—after we started I noticed that we were going very fast—getting towards Brackenbury Road, I noticed another omnibus driven by the prisoner—we were passing him—I noticed nothing particular until about a moment or two before the accident—when we passed under the railway bridge I saw that the horses of the defendant's omnibus were coming fast—I did not notice the prisoner doing anything to his horses—I saw the horses gallop just before they got through the bridge, but I did not notice any whipping or anything of that sort—as we got under the bridge I stood up and paid the conductor the fare, and I heard him ring the bell—the omnibus, instead of stopping, went somewhat faster, and pulled across the road from the near-side to the off-side—the driver paid no attention to the bell—as it did not stop I got on to the step—it took me about thirty yards from the bridge when I jumped off—my friend Diack followed me to get off—unfortunately he had a black bag and a walking-stick in his hand, he did not get off as readily as he would like, and the company's omnibus, having swerved across the road, turned again, and seemed to throw him right across the tram-lines on the off-side—it was about two feet from the kerb when the bell rang—the deceased got off, but he kept hold of the brass rail of the omnibus, and instead of letting it go, as he should have done, that seemed to throw him—he struggled to regain his perpendicular, but unfortunately fell across the tram-lines, and the prisoner's omnibus was so close that the deceased was under his horses' feet immediately—his horses were galloping just as they came through the bridge—there were not more than four or five yards, I should think, between the two omnibuses—the prisoner's omnibus ran over him, the forewheels went over his back, and he turned over, and the hind wheels went over his stomach—I saw fire or six gentlemen come to pick him up—the prisoner tried his hardest to pull up his horses, to prevent the omnibus going over him—he pulled up, and stopped a few seconds—both omnibuses did that, and away they went—I ran after the prisoner's omnibus—I was not certain which 'bus it was, Newman's or Scarlett's—I did not catch him—I daresay he was nearly a quarter of a mile off—I had the Company's omnibus in sight; the other had gone—I spoke to a policeman on the spot.
Cross-examined. I don't know that the prisoner sent back a man with a cab, but I saw a cab, as if coming out of a yard—I had known the deceased seven or eight years—he told me that morning that he had been home for a week, and he was going that morning to get leave for another week to go to Hastings to recover his health—he was on the Great Western Railway—I had not the defendant's omnibus in sight all the way from Brackenbury Road to the railway bridge; we were inside; I saw it now and again—I saw it when we passed him, and I saw him coming up behind us, somewhat fast—I saw the horses galloping; they may perhaps gallop eight to ten miles an hour, perhaps ten or twelve—there are tram-lines along the road—when our omnibus swerved to the off-side it was getting on to the tram-lines; they are very bad; the 'bus slides with the lines, and then comes suddenly off—I expect our omnibus crossed the road in that way for the purpose of keeping in front of the prisoner's omnibus—I
could not say whether it jolted in swerving again to the left—I was off the omnibus then, in the middle of the road, about twenty yards away from it; it had gone from me when the accident occurred—the deceased was not thrown to the ground by the shock of the omnibus turning; I think he was not absolutely thrown to the ground by the omnibus; he was thrown to the side, and he was struggling to regain his perpendicular—I suggest that he must have been thrown to the side of the road by the omnibus, and having got there without any wish of his own, he struggled to regain his perpendicular, but fell; that must have been at the time the omnibus was crossing to the near-side, that threw him under the prisoner's horses, across the off-side lines—the prisoner was coming up on his proper side for passing the company's 'bus; that was the reason the company's 'bus pulled across—I don't think it would be correct to say that immediately before the prisoner's "bus ran over the deceased it swerved to the near-side; the deceased fell immediately in front, within a few yards of the horses, and the prisoner did all in his power to pull his horses up—there was no traffic in the road at that time, only these two omnibuses; there was no other vehicle near, except the cab coming from the yard.
Re-examined. The deceased never got on to his feet; when he was thrown to the ground I was in the road where the 'bus had put me down, about twenty yards behind the Company's 'bus; the prisoner was before me at that moment—the omnibus was one with a staircase down the back, with a parallel rail—when I first got into the omnibus I sat next to the conductor, and Mr. Diack sat next to me.
LOUISA LANE . I am a schoolmistress, and live at Shepherd's Bush—about half-past eight on the 29th August I was in Goldhawk Road, going from London in the opposite direction to that in which the omnibuses were going—when within about sixty yards of the London side of the railway arch I saw two omnibuses on my left; I saw that they were driving very fast indeed—both 'buses were swaying about a great deal—the drivers were whipping their horses, and I should say the horses were galloping—after they had passed the arch I noticed a gentleman standing on the footboard of the Company's 'bus, as if he wished to alight; he got off—after he got off he held on to the rail of the 'bus, and took a step or two with the 'bus—the 'buses were swaying about a great deal at the time, and whether he let go of his own accord or the omnibus swayed him I cannot Bay, but just at that moment the horses of the other omnibus (the prisoner's omnibus) swerved towards the left, and the gentleman was knocked down—I was then between four and six yards from the place where he was picked up, looking towards him; they had not passed me at the time—the gentleman's face was towards me—I was a little to the London side of the silversmith's shop—I can't say that the gentleman did let go of the rail of the 'bus—I saw the horses trample on him, and both the wheels go over him; after the first wheel went over him he rolled, and the hind wheel went across his back—some people ran out into the road and picked him up—the 'buses went on some distance—the prisoner's 'bus stopped.
Cross-examined, I was standing at a small draper's shop, two doors from the silversmith's—my attention was wholly drawn towards the gentleman; I was not looking particularly at the prisoner's 'bus at the moment—I am quite certain that the prisoner was whipping his horses;
I saw them both whipping their horses; I have no doubt in my mind about that—the prisoner's horses swerved to the left immediately before the accident; it was the near-side horse that touched the deceased—it was not the Company's 'bus that swerved to the left; I did not see it; they were swaying about the whole distance down the road—I said before the Magistrate that I was very much alarmed, and might be mistaken as to distance—the prisoner's 'bus was a very short distance behind the other; it was more on the off-side when I saw it first, and I think if the horses had not swerved the gentleman would have been safe; I don't think the omnibus would have gone over him—I have no idea at what rate the prisoner was going; it was exceedingly fast.
THOMAS CLODE . I am a beer dealer, and live at Hammersmith—on the morning of 29th August I was in Goldhawk Road—I noticed the 'buses coming through the railway arch abreast, going very fast—I did not notice the driver do anything.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner whipping his horses—I might not have seen it; I was watching the position of the omnibuses.
WILLIAM MAY . I am a signalman, and live at 59, Westville Road, Shepherd's Bush—I saw the two omnibuses going in the direction of London at a good rate; I could not say the speed—I picked the gentleman up, and took him to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I could not swear whether they were galloping or not; they were going at a fast speed; both about the same.
WALTER JAMES HINTON . I am a tailor, of 7, Farm Villas, Hammersmith—I noticed the two omnibuses; they were going moderately fast; afterwards the horses galloped—I saw the prisoner especially whipping his horses; he was on the off-side, so I had a better view of him—I kept them in sight until they got under the railway arch—I did not see the accident.
Cross-examined. They were going very fast; they could not have gone faster.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that I could not swear they were galloping—I might also have said that it took the prisoner about two minutes to go 300 or 400 yards—I could not say what the rate was.
By the COURT. They were going at a great pace, what is generally considered as racing.
JOSEPH ARTHUR ARKWRIGHT . I was house surgeon at the West London Hospital on the morning of 29th August, when the deceased was brought there—he was then alive—he died shortly after, of internal hemorrhage; the injuries were consistent with his having been run over.
Cross-examined. There was slight bruising about his legs, and a skin wound on one leg—I should not think the omnibus wheel had passed over him; it is possible.
Witness for the Defence.
near-side—a man got up at Devonport Road—at Brackenbury Road the defendant took out his watch; he does that every morning—afterwards I noticed a Company's 'bus passing him, and it went in front—as far as I could tell there were five or six yards between them, about the width of a good-sized road—they were going about the same pace—I saw Mr. Diack, he had got off the omnibus and just got on to the ground—he had hold of the rail with his right hand, and had his umbrella and stick or bag in his left hand—the 'bus dragged him off his feet, and he fell quite flat on his face; the 'bus swerving seemed to throw him on his back—I saw him endeavouring to pick himself up—there was not a possible chance of his doing so, no man could have pulled up—I noticed the General Omnibus Company's 'bus swerve on the tram-line, I think; I could not say I saw it, but I fancy that was the cause of it—the wheel of the omnibus went over him—it is not accurate to say that the horses of the defendant's 'bus knocked him down—the front wheel went over him; I did not see it go over him, but I saw the back wheel go over him—I thought the defendant was trying to pull slightly to the off-side, that would be to the centre of the road—that would have had the effect of avoiding the accident, if the omnibus had not swerved—I should not call it racing, they were going at a pretty good rate; I could not say they were trying to pass each other—they were behind one another.
GUILTY.—The JURY were of opinion that the driver of the General Omnibus Company was mainly the cause of the occurrence. — To enter into his own recognisance in £100 to come up for judgment if called upon.
MR. SANDYS Prosecuted, MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
The deceased died from extravasation of blood on the surface of the brain, caused by a blow received in a fight with the prisoner; but the JURY found that the blow was given under great provocation, and strongly recommended him to mercy.
GUILTY .— One Week's Imprisonment.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted; MR. ARTHUR GILL Defended. [The evidence is unfit for publication.]
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 23rd, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
PLEADED GUILTY to receiving and to a conviction of felony in May, 1889, at Marlborough Street,— Six Months' Hard Labour.
742. GEORGE WOOD (24), WALTER MAYBRIGHT (20) JAMES SMITH (18), and HENRY POBEY (20) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas George Young, and stealing a violin and other articles, his property.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted. ROSIE YOUNG. I am the wife of Thomas George Young, of 220, Ladbroke Grove Road—on 4th September the shop was securely shut up about 10.5p. m.—about 2.5 a. m. I was aroused—my husband went downstairs, and I followed—in consequence of what an officer at the door said, I examined the door—the bottom part of the shop-door bell was missing, and the cord of the fanlight cut—I missed my boots—this fiddle was brought to me; it is Mr. Young's—I saw it the night before when I closed—the value is about 30s.
WILLIAM COLE (Policeman X 284). About 2 a. m., on 5th September, I was on duty in Ladbroke Grove Road, about thirty or forty yards from No. 220—I watched the prisoners—I went through Kensal Road, and came up to the entrance of the prosecutor's shop—Wood stood at the top of the steps—when he saw me he went towards the shop—I then went up to the shop—I saw Pobey and Smith come from the direction of the door—the steps come up out of Ladbroke Road—Maybright immediately came out of the shop—all ran down Ladbroke Grove Road, and passed over the bridge that the Great Western trains run through—when they got to the junction of four roads, Maybright and Smith turned down Edinburgh Road, and Pobey and Smith into Warmington Road, towards Goldburn Road—I gave chase, but lost sight of them there—I called to Maybright and Smith that it was no good their running, as I knew their names—I knew the other two by sight previously—Pobey and Wood are companions—I communicated with Police Constable Ingram—we went back to the shop, and called Mr. Young—the front door was open from the inside—soon after six o'clock I went to St. Katherine's Road, Notting Hill—I saw Maybright and Smith undressed and in bed, and Wood, dressed, sitting on the side of the bed—they were told the charge, and to get up and dress, to be taken in custody for a burglary that morning—they were taken to the station—I was present when they were charged—they made no reply.
Cross-examined by Maybright. I did not arrest another man on the 3rd.
Cross-examined by Smith. I never mentioned your coat at the station; you never asked me what coat you had on.
Re-examined. I called Smith Sheen, and Maybright Cosgrove, the names they are known by.
THOMAS INGRAM (Policeman X 202). Cole communicated to me, and I saw Maybright and Smith running down the Edinburgh Road towards the fields—Cole and I chased Wood—I found this violin in the field where they ran—I have known Smith as Sheen—I went back with Cole to the house.
Cross-examined by Wood, I did not say anything about seeing another man who was with you playing on the violin—I did not take a man into custody, nor, as he could not be convicted, did I blame it on to you.
Cross-examined by Smith. You ran past me, but I did not know there was anything up till Cole drew my attention; he did not blow his whistle.
THOMAS PROUT . I am a smith, of 44, Sixth Avenue, Queen's Park—about 5. 30 a. m. on September 5th I was going under the archway, under which the Great Western trains run, I found this fiddle-bow, pair of boots, and piece of candle (produced); I took them to Carlton Bridge Police-station.
AMBROSE ANCHOR (Policeman X 10). The articles mentioned by Prout were handed to me by him—I afterwards saw the prisoners in the reserve room, and showed the articles to them—I told them the charge—Smith said, "What has that to do with me?"
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Detective Sergeant X). On 5th September I went with the other officers to 51, St. Katherine's Road, and into a small room off the stairs—I saw Maybright and Smith undressed in bed, and Wood sitting on the side of the bed with his clothes on—Cole said, "These are the three men"—I told them they would be charged with committing a burglary that morning in Ladbroke Grove Road—Maybright said, "Wait a minute; don't be in a hurry; I can prove an alibi"—I searched the room, and found this jemmy (produced); Maybright at once said, "I know nothing about that"—they were all charged together at the station, they made no reply.
HUGH NEWLANDS (Police Inspector X). I received information of this burglary, and examined 220, Ladbroke Grove Road—I afterwards went to 51, St. Katherine's Road—I was present when Wood, Maybright, and Smith were arrested—I arrested Pobey at 42, Southam Street, a quarter or half an hour later—Wood made his statement on the way to the station, which I wrote at the station soon afterwards—"'Cosgrove,' that is Maybright, 'Sheen,' that is Smith, and Pobey broke into the shop last night, and Ginger Flinn was not there"—I had charged them with breaking in—Ginger Flinn was arrested by Anchor as one of the men, and was afterwards discharged—Wood also stated that Cosgrove threw the violin away in the road. The prisoners, in their defence, said it was all a make up.
WOOD** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in November, 1888, at this Court.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
SMITH* in July, 1888, at this Court.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour; and
POBEY* at Edgware in October, 1886.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
FRANCIS HOWLETT . I live at 7, Wellington Road Villas, Westbourne Park—I am an engineer—my office is at Woodfield Place, Harrow Road, Paddington—my ironworks are called the Atlas Iron Works—I have a housekeeper named Ellen Naylor—on 24th August, when the office was shut up, the safe, part of which is now produced, was in the office—it contained £3, a postal order for 1s., and a number of books and papers, leases, etc.—these things were missing when I was called by the police from my private house—I found one window broken by the fastening, a second window wide open, and the entrance gates had been forced—the bolt was still shot.
6. 10 p. m.—the safe was there, because I passed it when I pulled the blind down, and if there had been anything wrong in the office I must have seen it—I was called by the police at 2 a. m. on Saturday—I found the outside doors locked, the windows unfastened, and one up.
HENRY ALLBOROUGH . I am a labourer, of 36, Wells Road, College Park, Kensal Green—on Saturday, 24th August, at 6 a. m., I was going to work in Scrub Lane—when near the canal bridge I heard a crash; I unlocked the office door and went in—I pulled my jacket off; I heard a terrible crash of something falling—I saw three or four men coming out at the door—I heard something go very heavy into the water over the canal bridge—I saw four men standing on the bridge; the sun was shining in my eyes, I could not identify them, but I saw the prisoner looking over the fence as I walked into the office—he walked towards the bridge with another—the four men got into a cart, and drove the pony in the cart up the lane—the same evening I helped to get this part of the safe (produced) out of the canal, and on the Sunday morning the drawers and the biggest portion of it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I touched some men at Hammersmith, but could not swear to them—I was from thirty to forty yards from you when you were looking over the fence; I had a good look at you.
JAMES TUCKETT (Policeman X 37). About 1. 15 on 24th August I received information from some man about the Atlas Iron Works—I went there; I found that the latch of the window was pushed back, and the window wide open—I fetched the housekeeper.
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Police Inspector). I went to these premises and found what Tuckett has described—I made further inquiries—in consequence of what I heard from Allborough I went with Inspector Newlands and Detective Webb, about 8 p. m. on Saturday, the 7th, to Edgware Road—I saw Williams—I said, "I am a police officer, I shall take you on suspicion of being concerned with others in breaking into the office at the Atlas Iron Works, Woodfield Place, Harrow Road, on the night of 23rd August, and stealing an iron safe and its contents"—he said, "I am not surprised, I have been expecting it all the week; I suppose Ryan has put me away"—I don't know Ryan—I took him to the station—Allborough picked him out from eight others as one of the men he saw on the bridge—the safe was afterwards found—the charge was read over to him—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. You said, "I hope I shall have fair evidence"—I do not remember saying, "That will do you no good."
The Prisoner called GEORGE WOOD, a Prisoner (See Page 1090). I did not give information to the police—I cannot read—I was asked and I signed amongst several papers this statement produced)—I had done nothing before that—I made no statement—I do not know what the papers were that I signed.
HUGH NEWLANDS (Police Inspector). Wood was in custody—he volunteered this statement, which I took down in writing—I read it to him—he afterwards signed it—(Read: "Harrow Road Station, 5th September, 1889—The safe from Clayton's was stolen by Teddy Cosgrove, George Sheen, 'Dutchie,' and another from Edgware Road, between eleven and twelve at night, on Friday night, and they took it away on the fishmonger's barrow, which broke down at the corner of the Avenue. After
it broke down, they took it to an empty room at 42, Southam Street; then at 4 a. m. took it to Arthur Blake's, the blacksmith's in the Mews, who smashed it with a sledge-hammer, and took it away in a cart, drawn by his pony 'Bob,' and threw it into the cut, and every paper and cheque was burnt in the forge by Arthur Blake. Arthur Shepherd's wife saw the safe going into No. 42, Southam Street. Blake had half-asovereign of the money. 'Ginger' Flinn, Cosgrove, Sheen, and Arthur Shepherd attempted to enter Eastwood and Co.'s offices, Harrow Road, where they broke into, and left a large hammer behind, which was lent to them by Blake, and he knew what they were going to do with it. Shepherd can always get Blake's pony and cart when they want to do a job.—GEORGE WOOD. H. NEW LANDS, Inspector")—the prisoner is known as "Dutchie."
GEORGE WOOD (Re-examined). I did not make that statement—I never saw the man before—it is got up from beginning to end—I never knew the prisoner in my company—I never mentioned to Newlands that I knew him.
ALICE GRAY . I am married, and live at No. 11, Westborne Street, King's Cross Road—my husband is a printer—the prisoner is my son—on Saturday, August 24th, my son got out of bed at 8 a. m., and went out—from that time to the following week he was still at home, in and out.
Cross-examined. My son lived with me, not at a lodging-house, till he left my place the week after August 24th—he had lived with me months previously—he went to bed early on Friday night, from 10.30 to 11—I was in bed when he came in—I got up at 5.30 a. m.—I called my other son to go to work—I did not call the prisoner, who was out of employment—I then got breakfast for the family, and sent them out to work—I went to his bed—he has been out of employment two or three weeks—I cannot say where he worked; he worked casually—I cannot say where he worked in 1880, 1881, 1882, 1883, and 1884—he might have been at work in 1884—I cannot name any person for whom he has worked the last four or five years.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that the charge was a fabrication, the witnesses could not identify him, and he had worked at Hatche's in the Marylebone Road and in the City Road during the last three months, since he lodged with his mother.
GUILTY .**†he then
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
TOM TOMPKINS . I live at 6, Rodney Street, Pentonville—I have no occupation—I was at the Claremont Club, Penton Street, on 27th August, about 5. 15 a. m., drinking with friends—the prisoner and some companions were at the same bar when the proprietor called time, and they went out first—the prisoner molested one of my companions—I strolled on about 100 yards, and the prisoner attacked me by threatening me—I
said, "Don't hit me, I don't want any bother"—he hit me—his companions came to his assistance, and I struck out with my umbrella in self-defence—to save further squabbles, I ran down Pentonville Road—they pursued and overtook me in Collyer Street, where I received a blow on my mouth, which knocked me down, and then a kick here (Near his right eye), which rendered me insensible—when I came to, I saw a policeman with the prisoner in custody—we went to the station, and I charged him.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The club has two rooms in the basement—the entrance fee is 1s., the annual subscription 2s. 6d.—we drink, and play at whist, and nap, not bokhara, faro, under and over, hazards, pool, nor with dice—there is a billiard table—the umbrella had a silver mount—I swung it, and something stopped it; I believe it was the prisoner's head—I had a bad black eye when I attended the Police-court the next day—I went to a doctor, who gave me a lotion—I had bruises about my body—my eye was "bunged up."
Re-examined. I suffered considerable pain—I was knocked down and kicked while on the ground.
GEORGE ALLEN ,(Policeman G 292). I was on duty in Collyer Street about five a. m. on 27th August—I saw the prisoner strike Tompkins a blow in the face, felling him to the ground; I walked gradually towards him, both men were kicking him in the back, then the prisoner leaned over him as if robbing him, while his companion was kicking him in the back—several people shouted "Police"—I went quickly towards them—they ran down Southampton Street, I doubled and crossed Winchester Street to Wharfdale Road, when they turned into a public-house—I ran again and broke into a wharf—I saw the prisoner leaning on some railings—I took him by the left hand and by the throat—he threw me to the ground, I carried him with me—I got up; he said, "I always try to get away from you men if I can"—I said, "I shall take you back for assaulting the prosecutor"—I took him back, met the prosecutor, and asked if he would charge him; he said, "Yes"—I took him to the station; on the way I asked the prosecutor whether he had lost anything, he said he had lost two gold ear-rings, but had picked them up—the prosecutor was sober, but silly through the kicks, I believe, on his face.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I was, at first I said, 300 yards off, but I have measured the ground: it was 200—I have seen members coming out of the club at 5 a. m.—I have seen ladies coming out after a ball, sometimes at 2 a. m.; not 5 or 6—I gradually strolled up, so as not to let them notice me, and so as to get to another constable I saw in Southampton Street—I had my usual boots on—the prosecutor at the Police-court the next day bad a very black eye, and the ball was red and bloodshot, and a large swelling alongside his face, near the right ear—I thought his jaw was broken—it was more bruised than like a gumboil.
Re-examined. The blow was very severe—he attended the divisional surgeon the same day.
FRANK MEW (Policeman G 301). I saw the prisoner and another man running after the prosecutor in the Pentonville Road—I followed into Collyer Street, about a quarter of a mile, at the top of Rodney Street; I saw the prisoner strike the prosecutor in the face, and knock him to the ground—I saw Allen coming towards us, and I walked steadily on, so that we could block the men at the end of the street—they suddenly ran
into Southampton Street—I saw the two men kicking the prosecutor violently in the ribs on the ground.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am almost positive the prosecutor was kicked in the back by the prisoner and the other man as well—the prosecutor had an umbrella with a silver-mounted top—he put it up in self-defence—the knob might have grazed the man's head—I saw the umbrella in the air in the prosecutor's hand—I have been in the force some time, and have seen assaults—I should say the prosecutor had more than a black eye, there was a very big dent, and a swelling all over—his mouth was bleeding very much—he spoke intelligibly the next morning—I have not known the prisoner to be in trouble before.
By the COURT. I have not seen the other man since—he had not a cut on his face.
GUILTY of a common assault — Eight Days' Imprisonment.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HAWTIN Prosecuted.
JOHN HOPKINSON . I am a furniture dealer, of 73 and 75, Curtain Road—the prisoner called in answer to an advertisement offering furniture for sale on the hire system in 1887—he said, "If I bring you customers for furniture will you give me a commission?"—I said, "Yes"—he brought me two customers, and I paid him—he called several times, and we had conversations—he proposed to bring clients to borrow money—I refused for about a week—he said his office, the Pearl, had too much to do, and he could bring me good borrowers—I considered it, and eventually lent money—I had not lent money previously—he gave me Thomas Flight's address as an applicant, 12, Green Street, New Road—I made inquiries, which were satisfactory—this was about October, 1887—he said, "This is a good man, there is no particular risk at all"—I said, "If the inquiry is all right I do not mind lending him money"—£10 was mentioned—the next I saw of him was he came to my place in November with two men, whom he introduced as Mr. Flight, the borrower, and Mr. Smith, as security, of 44, Islington Street, St. George's—I found Mr. Smith was respectable enough for security—when I supposed Flight and Smith were downstairs he said, "I will go down and get them to sign the promissory note"—he was in my private office—he went down and came back, and handed me this promissory note (for £10), signed as it is now, and I gave him, I believe, a cheque for £10—when I applied to Mr. Flight for repayment he repudiated it; he said he did not know anything of it; that was three months afterwards; the note was not due till March—I believe he was written to, but anyhow he came to my place—he said, "I have known O'Mara, but I have never had the money, and it is not my signature; I know nothing about it"—I went to Mr. Smith's house in Islington Street, but could not find him—I have not been repaid a farthing—I tried to find O'Mara to get an explanation, but could not—I went to my solicitor, and obtained a summons—it was served—I appeared; the prisoner was not there—a warrant for his apprehension was issued—I next saw him in custody at the Thames Police-court a fortnight or three weeks ago.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I cannot remember whether I paid you a cheque or gold, nor whether I called on you about it—a fire at Curtain Road on December 21st, 1887, destroyed my place and some of my papers, or I should have the cheque and the application—that is why the money was not applied for till three months after the event—you brought the application a few days before the loan was granted—you did not bring the real Flight, and I gave you the money—the bills were put in the safe where valuable documents are put, but the applications were kept in the desk in the counting-house on the lower floor; that is where the safe was—Mr. Gloyn was in the clerk's office—this bill was found in the safe on the lower floor, all covered with rubbish—the papers were handed over to a Mr. Vigo.
THOMAS FLIGHT . I lived at 12, Green Street, New Road, St. George's, in 1887—I met the prisoner between one and two o'clock one day in September or October—this promissory note of November 30th, 1887, has not my signature; I know nothing about it—the prisoner and I were talking about business—I said it was very quiet; he said, "You can have a 'fiver' if you require it"; I said, "I do not know that I do," but I consented to have a £5 note—I filled up a form of application for a loan of £5—I heard no more till I was applied to for the money by Mr. Hopkinson or a solicitor—I never had the money—I never gave anyone authority to receive it—I saw the prisoner after signing the application—I went to see Mr. Hopkinson after he applied for payment—I was not one of the persons who went with the prisoner on the date of the promissory note—I do not know Mr. Smith, of the address on the bill—after signing the application form I declined to take the loan—about four months afterwards I met the prisoner, and said, "You have done a nice thing, O'Mara, about this loan; who had it?"—he said, "You did not, and they will have to find out'—I said, "Will you be up at the Court tomorrow?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "How do you think you will get on?"—he said, "I'll make it two months"—I told him Mr. Hopkinson had applied for the money, and I was subpœnaed to attend.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have not seen Smith—I did not put his name on the application form—I never saw it on the form—I answered the questions on the form—I described myself as a sawmaker—I have worked at it fourteen years, but I have other means of living.
Re-examined. I am sure the prisoner said he would get two months.
STEPHEN WHITE (Detective Sergeant H). I took the prisoner on 5th inst. at 12 p. m.—I told him I had a warrant for his arrest—he said, "All right"—I took him to the station, and read the warrant to him—he said, "I know what you mean, but they cannot do anything with me"—I had been looking for him twelve months.
The Prisoner, in his defence, complained of the loss of the cheque and application-form, as he was not able to compare the writing, and said he knew nothing about the forgery.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
opened, to receive deposits from children, and if there was anything to pay, to get the money from me—the pass-books were left previously, and they were added up—they stated how much they wished to withdraw, and it was entered in red ink—it was his duty to enter it in the payingout book, and take their signatures—this is the paying-out book—when money was paid to a depositor he signed the book, which was more or less in the prisoner's custody—no one else had access to it unless he gave it to them—on 21st July, 1888, the last entry (For £1 2s. paid out) is signed Frederick Eyles, in, I believe, the prisoner's writing—it came to my knowledge that that entry was not in a correct state, and inquiries were made.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was first honorary manager in August, 1886—I first heard that the accounts were wrong six weeks or two months ago—there was an increase, in the deposits under your management—we generally know the depositors—the same children come—when a book is brought by anyone else it must be either entrusted to them or stolen—a gentleman who knew the depositors could get possession of their books, and bring them down and pay money in or take money out; the book is my voucher—previous to Christmas it was easy for anyone to get at the books without any deposit in them—the meetings were at the schoolroom, and numbers of persons passed in and out during the week—at Christmas you put the books under lock and key, and I found out two cases of forgery then, and asked you if you had any suspicion, and you spoke to Mr. Nesling with me at the bank on Saturday night—I discovered an error of £3 2s. in the Nesling's case, and saw the girls, and the signature was so like, but they had never had any money out—I said, "Somebody has taken money out, and if I find it out I certainly shall prosecute"—you said, "It is gross carelessness on my part, and I ought to pay it"—here is "Ada Cole, 5s. paid out," and I have written, "See above;" it is run through above—on the 29th I find an entry, "Daniels, 1s. 9d.," that was found out on the previous Saturday—you left the book with me, and I entered it again, but struck it out as an error—I said, "For the future I must have all the books left with me to compare them with the ledger, that it may not occur again—you have only left the books with me on Saturday nights since Christmas—you may have gone to my house for the book every Saturday night except the four weeks when I was away for a holiday.
Re-examined. This is the deposit-book of Frederick Eyles, with no entries made of drawings out, though they are entered in the ledger—it was the duty of the person paying out the money to add it up and deduct the amount they withdrew.
FREDERICK EYLES . I am thirteen years old, and live at 43, Almack Road—I had money invested in All Saints', Clapton, Savings Bank—this is my deposit-book—I never drew out any money, or authorised any one to do so—this entry is not my writing. (An entry in the paying-out book on 21st July, 1888, showing £1 2s. drawn out)—I have not received that money or authorised anyone to receive it—I made seventy-two payments from May 19th, 1888, to June 17th, 1889—I did not take the money myself, I gave it to the prisoner; he came to our house, and took it round to the school—all the entries are right as regards the payments in—he never took my book; he used to call again on the Sunday and make the entries—I think I have got about £19 at the bank.
SAMUEL WILLIAM MUNRO . I am the prisoner's brother, and live at 75, Rushmore Road; I have seen his writing on and off for some years—I should say without doubt that the whole of this entry and the signature, Frederick Eyles, is his.
Cross-examined. I have not taken a very active part with the police in this prosecution—you saw me on Friday, the 30th, and I said that the matter was in the hands of the police; you said, "I know better, because a warrant would have been out for my arrest long ago, and I should have been arrested before now"—that was about ten o'clock; I had been to Dalston Police-court that morning, and it was adjourned for a week—you said on that Friday that you were not going to be played with, you would give yourself up—on Thursday, September 5th, I pointed you out to the detective-sergeant, and said, "That is the one you want"—I did not charge you with forging the signature; I was there—I know your writing, because you copied some addresses for me two years ago—I have got the writing here.
The Prisoner. I admit the entries in the book.
ARTHUR LAMB . I am twelve years old, and live at 23, Almack Road, Clapton—I had a deposit account at All Saints' Penny Bank—this is my book—I never drew out any money—this" Arthur Lamb "is not my writing—I did not receive the 12s., or know anything about it.
ADA NESTLING . I am a depositor in All Saints' Penny Savings Bank—I took all the books for my family—my book is all right; this" A. Nestling "is not my sister Annie's writing or mine—I did not have the money.
Cross-examined. I have never been paid any money without giving a week's notice—I have five or six accounts here.
ANNIE NESTLING . I am a depositor in this bank—this is my book—I have never taken the money—my sister has always taken the books—there is no entry here of a payment out of £1 3s. on December 1st, 1888—this" A. Nestling, "signed in the paying-out book to a payment out of £1 3s. on December 1st, 1888, is not my writing, or written by my authority, nor did I have the money.
WALTER VAGG (Detective Sergeant J). I took the prisoner on September 6th, and told him the charge was for various forgeries from July to December—he said, "I did not sign the signature, I put my initials in the book"—I said, "I am not referring to money you have received during the last twelve months and never paid into the bank, but money already in the bank which you drew out without authority, and signing the names of Eyles and Lamb"—he said, "They have made a catspaw of me, and I shall fight it out"—I took him to the station—he made no reply to the charge.
The prisoner, in his defence, denied that the signatures were in his writing; he stated that his brother and he had never agreed, and was doing his best to convict him.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Worship Street on 9th January. 1882, of embezzlement.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. JARVIS Defended.
HENRY SMITH . I am cashier to Chapman, Messell, and Co., chemical manufacturers, of Mark Lane—the prisoner carried on business at Battersea, as Kingsford, Field, and Co., oil refiners—in October, 1888, he owed our firm £80 or £90, but about £10 of goods were undelivered—applications had been made to him in my writing for payment—he came to the office, and saw Dr. Messell, but I was not present; I got some instructions, and afterwards saw the prisoner—he presented this bill to me. (This was for £200, dated October 18th, 1888, at three months)—it is drawn by our firm, and accepted by the prisoner—we gave him this cheque for £111 17s. 10d. for the balance; it is not crossed; he 'asked me to leave it open, so that he might go and get the cash, and it has been met by our bankers—he afterwards wrote to the firm about a second bill—he was to have £200 at 5 per cent.—Dr. Nichols was to accept, and it was to bear his mother's endorsement—I drew the bill and gave it to the prisoner—he brought it back bearing Dr. Nichols' acceptance—I said that it must have his mother's endorsement before I could hand him the cheque—he took it away, and brought it back with this endorsement, H. A. Field, on it—I then caused this cheque for £200 to be drawn and given to him, deducting 5 per cent. and stamps—that was an open cheque; it has been paid; it was endorsed by him—both those bills were duly presented and dishonoured, no money has been recovered under them—we have got judgment against him, against his mother, and against Dr. Nichols.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell you whether we have issued execution—I did not doubt the mother's solvency at the time I asked for her name, but I have now, from what I learn from our solicitor—everything has been done; a writ was issued against the mother, and we found there was not a chance of getting the money—the bills were dated October and November, and were due early this year; we have not proceeded criminally till now, because he was continually writing letters and promising payment—at the time I took the first bill I did not take a charge against certain agreements he had, and I believe Dr. Messell did not; I should certainly know it if it was done—I do not know that anybody was collateral security as to charging certain patents.
MARY FIELD . I am the prisoner's sister—I am single, and live with my mother at Cornwall House, Addiscombe, near Croydon—my mother is in mental trouble, and is incompetent for business—the signatures, "H. A. Field," to these two documents, are not her writing—she was not able to understand anything at all in October and November last year in the shape of business.
Cross-examined. To the best of my belief they are not my mother's writing; the "F" in "Field" is certainly not hers—she can write, but she has not done so for some time—she gets up between twelve and one o'clock—she only goes out in a bath chair—she eats and drinks, and sits at table—I have specimens of her writing; they are not like these, these are too firm—I think my brother was living in the house at this time, with his mother and myself—he left two or three months ago—he had lived for some time with his mother; we were all in the house together—he went up to see his mother in her bedroom before he went to town, but
I was generally there—he could not have gone up to her and got her to sign the document when I was away, as various arrangements had to be made to get her to write—she has signed a document this year, but some months ago, merely endorsing, but she had no idea of the value; they were cheques for the house—she can sign cheques under my direction—her money is not in her name still, it was changed some time this year—I think she has been most careful about lending her endorsement oracceptance to her son for his benefit, because she has been cautioned—I have heard the names of Randall and Co. and Donald Campbell, but I was not controlling her business, and I do not know whether she has put her endorsement on bills of theirs—she was incapable of doing so in December, 1887.
Re-examined. Since I have been conducting her business I have been very careful in preventing her signing any documents, except under my supervision—this is not her writing—she requires a great deal of preparation, a blotting-pad, and pen and ink.
RUDOLPH MESSELL . I am a chemical manufacturer, of 36, Mark Lane, trading as Chapman and Messell—the prisoner owed my firm about £88 in October, and he required a loan of about £200 from me or my son, which I in the first instance refused—he pressed very hard, and was prepared to go to some usurers at any rate of interest, and not liking to let him fall into their hands, induced me to let him have it, believing he would pay very soon—I would not accept his name at all, and he volunteered that his mother would back the bill—I asked why he could not get the money direct from his mother, who was always represented as a wealthy lady—he said that his sister's wedding would require considerable outlay—he brought this bill, with the endorsement "H. A. Field" on it—I afterwards saw him again, and gave instructions to Mr. Smith, our cashier, and the bill was brought to me, with the acceptance of Dr. Nichols—I have received no money.
Cross-examined. No agreement about some business plant, as collateral security, was lodged with me—he lodged an agreement with me for my perusal, but he did not ask me to advance the money on what he was going to take under that agreement—he got it back; it is not in my possession personally, nor is it in the possession of Chapman, Messell, and Company—I cannot tell whether my solicitor has proceeded against Mrs. Field—I put it into his hands, leaving him to recover the money as he could—we have not tried the issue whether the mother is liable or not—I gave no detailed instructions, but I was informed that somebody went to the mother—I do not know that they threatened to take proceedings if she did not pay.
WILLIAM JOHN FLEWSTER (City Detective Sergeant). On 11th September I saw the prisoner at Waterloo Station, and told him he would be charged with forging an endorsement to a bill of exchange, and uttering the same—he said, "Who is instructing you?"—I said, "Messrs. Hatcham and Jones, of Mark Lane"—I took him to the station, and he was charged.
WILLIAM THOMAS FERNEY , M. D. I live at 51, Seymour Terrace, Portman Square—I have been attending Mrs. Field three years—in September, 1887, she had a very severe attack of brain epilepsy, which left her without memory of the purport of anything she has been doing since, and there have been several epileptic seizures since—in October last year she was worse than in 1887.
Cross-examined. Durham is my University—I am not a homoeopath—she cannot have any lucid intervals, her brain is so injured—I did not advise the family to transfer her account—she can write mechanically; she could write "H. A. Field"—she cannot take part in conversation with any perception of what is going on, or any memory; if I were to see her and leave the room she would say, "Where is the doctor? I have not seen him for months"'—she is always anxious to see me—the epilepsy is associated with kidney disease.
The Prisoner's statement "before the Magistrate: "When I asked my mother to endorse these bills, I did not tell her the nature of the documents, and I am guilty in so far as I took advantage of her state of mind."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN BURJESS . I am a cabinetmaker, of 3, Falcoln Buildings, Old Bethnal Green Road—on September 10th, about 7 a. m., the prisoner knocked at my door when I was in bed—I opened it, and he said, "Are you the man that lives downstairs?"—I said "Yes; who are you?"—he said, "I am that woman's brother upstairs"—I saw a knife in his Hand—we had a scuffle, and he stabbed me twice on my back and on my left arm—I did not know it at the time, but I was stabbed in six or seven places—I had never seen him before, but I knew the woman upstairs—the prisoner ran away—I put on my coat, went after him, and found him in charge they sewed up my wound at the station—after the prisoner had stabbed me two or three times, I ran in and got this stick (produced) to beat him off—he held one end of it and I the other, and he was stabbing me all the time—he got into the passage I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. I was not standing at my room door when you entered the house; I was in bed—I did not say, "You are not coming into this house," nor did you say, "I am entitled to come in; my sister lives here;" nor did I strike you on your chest; you got me on the ground and then stabbed me—I tried to get possession of the knife, and you plunged it into me.
By the COURT. I still say that he was a perfect stranger to me; I never saw him before—I did not charge him with insulting my wife, but he did so.
MARTHA BURJESS . I am the wife of the last witness—on the Monday night the prisoner came down and said, "I am tired of waiting for your husband; I will cut your two eyes out of your head"—that was midnight of the 9th—I went into the street, and a policeman came up and saw me into my room, and sent the prisoner and his sister and brother upstairs to their room, and I heard no more till next morning at seven,
when he knocked at my door—I got out of bed at the same time as my husband, and saw the struggle and the knife—the prisoner stabbed my husband twice, on his back and on his arm—he ran in and got his stick, and there was a struggle, and he stabbed him again and ran away, and the constable stopped him, as he had no hat on—my husband gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. There was not a jangle between your sister and me, there had not been a word spoken—I have never had any quarrel with you.
HERBERT WICKMAN . I live at 18, Powell Street, Bethnal Green, and call people up in the morning—I have a regular round—on the morning of September 10 I saw the prisoner and Burjess out in the middle of the road—the prisoner had a knife in his hand, and stabbed him on his back and then on his arm, and Burjess got his walking-stick; they struggled for it, and the prisoner stabbed him again—I saw him taken in charge.
PATRICK QUINLIVAN . I am a surgeon, of 254, Bethnal Green Road—on 10th September I examined Burjess and found two clean-cut incised wounds on his back, about the middle of each shoulder-bone, and another clean-cut wound on the outer upper part of his left arm—I found on his shirt, cuts corresponding with the stabs—they might have been inflicted with a knife, they reached down to the bone—he is going on well, but he still complains of his back.
JOHN NEIL (Policeman J R 11). On 10th September, at 7 a. m., I was returning off duty, and saw the prisoner running towards me without a hat, which raised my suspicions; I went in front of him, and prevented his going further; he placed his hand on a private part, and said that a man round the corner had kicked him there—Burjess came round the corner with two others, and said, "Oh, constable, I am stabbed all over by that man"—I saw blood trickling down his shirt, and told the prisoner he would be charged with stabbing him; he said. "They paid me with the stick, but I paid him his own back"—I searched him at the station, but found no knife—he was sober.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about this case of stabbing."
The Prisoner called GEORGE SLADE. The prisoner is my brother-in-law—on Monday, September 4th, I was at work, and my wife came to meet me about 10. 30 p. m., and told me something—I went home with her—the prisoner came home about eleven; we brought home a bit of supper for him; he had his supper with us and went to bed, asking me to call him at five o'clock—I said he would have to call himself—shortly after he went to bed my mistress and the persons upstairs were talking about Mrs. Burjess; a few words occurred, and Mrs. Burjess said something about my mistress, I do not know what—I called my mistress up, and my brotherin-law came down, and took my wife upstairs—he went to bed after that, and next morning, the 10th, I heard the prisoner open his window (he sleeps in the next room to me, and is a single man)—he asked a man who was passing what time it was; the man said, "Ten minutes past five"—the prisoner closed the window, went downstairs, and left the house—I heard him close the door, and heard nothing more till between six and seven, when I heard Burjess walking about the passage, talking very loud to somebody—I knew his voice—my wife said that he was calling
to my brother Walter—I looked over the railings and heard the prisoner say, "Don't push me, take your hands off me—I said, "Walter, come upstairs," and Burjess struck him a blow, and his hat fell off—they struggled together, and the prisoner had Burjess under him—they struggled to the middle of the road—I went into the front room, and saw them struggling together, and afterwards saw the prisoner kneeling on him, one knee towards his throat, as if he intended to strangle him, but I saw no knife—the prisoner let him get up, and he ran into his own house, got a stick, and came out and struck the prisoner with it, and beat him about several parts of his body—they struggled together, and Burjess kicked the prisoner in the privates—I said, "Walter, Walter, go away"—he struggled to the corner of the street, and I saw no more of him—I saw no stabbing and no knife.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Four Month' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT, Monday, September 23rd, and
OLD COURT, Tuesday September 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
GEORGE SHORT . I was a shoeblack, of 26, Harper Street, Battersea Park Road—I am fourteen—on Monday, 22nd July, between 4. 30, and 5 I was with a boy named Phillips at Hyde Park Corner—the prisoner tapped me on the shoulder, and asked me to go an errand for him—I said, "Yes"—he gave me this envelope, and when I crossed the road he gave me another—he told me to take this first one to 1, Hertford Street, and get £6 10s., and then I was to come back and meet him at the Alexandra Hotel public-house—I went to 1, Hertford Street, which is a paper shop—I saw Mr. Pike, the shopman, there—I delivered the letter, and then went to Dr. Moore's, Mr. Pike showed me the house—Dr. Moore stood at the door and looked at me; I waited outside—I then went to Curzon Street with Mr. Pike, and then I went to the Alexandra Hotel public-house—I saw the prisoner coming across from the Park—he said to me, "How did you get on?"—I said "Dr. Moore wants to see you"—he said, "Oh," and then said he wanted to go up to the post-office—he told me to go up to the post-office while he went to the urinal—Dr. Moore's brother came up to me on the post-office side, and patted me on the shoulder—I saw Dr. Moore and his brother come up to the prisoner, and give him in custody—the second letter which the prisoner gave me was for 12, Curzon Street—after I had been to Dr. Moore's I went to Curzon Street, and delivered that letter to one of the men in the shop.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You told Phillips to come with me—when I brought the message from Dr. Moore you said, "Come along to the post-office, I am going in there"—Phillips was with me then—when you came out of the urinal you went into the shop next the urinal, came out of the shop, and went into another, and then went into the urinal again, and when you came out you were arrested—I did not see you on the way from the urinal to me; you kept on the same side—you did not say you had someone to see at the post-office.
JAMES THOMAS PHILLIPS . I am a shoeblack, of 80, Bessborough Gardens, Pimlico—on 22nd July I was with Short in my shoeblack's uniform at Hyde Park Corner, opposite St. George's Hospital—the prisoner came and asked him to go an errand, and gave him this letter, directed to Mr. William Pike—I went with him to Pike's, and delivered the letter, and then we went with Pike to Dr. George Moore's, and afterwards returned to the prisoner at the Alexandra public-house—I saw the prisoner given into custody by Dr. Moore's brother—the prisoner gave Short this second letter with the first—the second was directed to Mr. Lawrence—after we had been to Dr. Moore's we went to Mr. Lawrence, and delivered that letter—on 17th May I had seen the prisoner in Sloane Street, when he said, "Will you run an errand for me?" and I said, "Yes"—he gave me an envelope, which I delivered to Mr. Hay ward, Shepherd Street, Mayfair—Mr. Hayward gave me £1 16s. 6d., which I gave to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I was with Phillips—I came and said, "I went for you once before, "and you said, "Yes, that is right, "and told me to go with him—we came back together—you told us to go on to the post-office—you said you wanted to see someone there—you went across the road, and were arrested on that side directly—I did not hear you ask the policeman to allow you to go into the post-office, nor his refusal.
WILLIAM PIKE . I am a bookseller, of 1, Hertford Street, Mayfair—Dr. Moore is a customer of mine—on 22nd July Short and Phillips came to me and handed me a letter directed to me—I opened it—in consequence of a previous communication I took the two boys and the letter to Dr. Moore—the letter enclosed this cheque, and asked me to cash it (The letter was dated from 37, Hertford Street, and was:" Dr. George Moore would be obliged if Mr. Pike would give the bearer cash for the enclosed crossed cheque. He has endorsed it; an open cheque for the amount will do. "(The cheque was for £6 10s., dated 12th July, 1889, drawn by A. A. Arbour, in favour of F. W. Heintz, on the National Provincial Bank, St. James's branch)—I went with the two boys to Dr. Moore—I was not with Dr. Moore when the prisoner was arrested—I took the boys to Mr. Lawrence's.
Cross-examined. I do not recognise you as residing at 3, Hertford Street.
GEORGE MOORE , M. D. I practise at 37, Hertford Street, Mayfair—on the 22nd of July Pike and the two boys came to my house, and Pike made a communication to me, and showed me this letter and cheque, which he had just received—I never wrote this letter; I gave no authority to anyone to write it; I know nothing of the cheque—the writing is not in the least like mine, but the style of my signature," Geo. Moore, M. D., "is my ordinary form—the boys proceeded in front of me to the Alexandra public-house—I afterwards followed them, and I saw the prisoner with them—I remained in a hansom cab out of sight; my brother followed the three—presently the prisoner started across the street, and my brother followed him; then I followed my brother, and we captured him—I said to the constable," I give this man into custody for forgory; they know all about it at Vine Street, I believe"—the prisoner said, just as I was coming up to my brother," I don't know who you are, "and then he turned his eyes on me and said, "I know Dr. Moore"—I know him only too
well—before I went to the Alexandra I went to Mr. Lawrence's, and a letter was delivered to him, which I read immediately afterwards—Mr. Lawrence handed it to me—this request to cash a cheque is not written by me, nor by my authority, the writing is not similar to mine—I know nothing of this cheque, which purports to bear my endorsement—these two letters are in the same writing, but neither of them is mine—I know nothing about the signature to this first cheque, nor the endorsement; it is not my signature—it seems to be in the same writing as this agreement, which is signed Meakin—that was not signed in my presence, but I have letters written by the prisoner to me.
Cross-examined. You obtained possession of 3, Hertford Street, by fraud—I produce the agreement signed by you for it—I used to live there—Mr. Arbour applied to me through you for particulars of the letting; until then I knew nothing of him, nor you, his clerk—I gave him no particulars—I never heard the name of Saunders—an offer came from Mr. Arbour for the house—Arbour, the house agent, wrote me some letters, and I saw his clerk on two or three occasions, and under these representations, which turned out to be grossly false, I was induced to part with this house to a client of theirs, named Meakins, who was said to be in receipt of £200 a year, a man of substance and respectability, living at Hammersmith, and whose rents they collected; those facts are in these letters received from Mr. Arbour, and I parted with No. 3 on the strength of those statements—I owed no money, and no claim was made for money—Mr. Arbour let the house to you, who were represented as a respectable man—I did not know who you were till you turned my house into a mock auction-room, with your confederates—I never employed Arbour, and I owe him no money—he made no claim—he was not my agent—I never saw Arbour—the agreement was brought signed—I went to Arbour two months after, never before the agreement was signed—I never saw any claim of Arbour's for £16 or £20—a letter was read from the letter-book at the Police-court, I denied ever receiving the original—I have no recollection of any account—Arbour sent no bill; if it had been a right bill I should have paid it—about twenty agents came for particulars; I employed Mr. Lawrence—Mr. Arbour's name was not put up—this is the advertisement that you and your confederates put into the Standard about the sale—there was a sale at the house—I had about £20 worth of fixtures in the house; they are still there—the lease was for three years—it cost me £300 a year; I let you have it for £150, with three months free—I had taken another house—I did not apply to Mr. Arbour for the rent—I observed cheap and common papers had been put into three rooms, and three ceilings had been whitewashed—I have paid no commission to anyone for letting the house—you deserted the premises without paying rent—I applied for rent—I signed the agreement for you, so that you had my signature—the signature on the cheque is nothing like mine—£1 16s. is in Arbour's writing—the first cheque was Hayward's; I communicated with him, and put my tradespeople on their guard—I told them who I suspected—Hayward is my grocer; I told him I suspected you—the signature to the first cheque for £1 16s. 6d. is, I think, no attempt to imitate my writing—when I saw the sale was taking place my suspicions were aroused.
Re-examined. Mr. Arbour introduced the prisoner to me as tenant for the house; I did not know the prisoner was his clerk—I did not know
the prisoner as Meakins till two months after the house was let—he paid no rent, and left the premises—I do not know Saunders—Mr. Arbour has sent me in no bill, and made no claim on me.
ARTHUR HERBERT LAWRENCE . I am an estate agent and auctioneer, at 12, Curzon Street, Mayfair—I have had business transactions with Dr. Moore—on 22nd July Dr. Moore, Pike, and two boys came to me and delivered this letter: "Dr. George Moore would be obliged if Mr. Lawrence would let him have an open cheque or cash for the enclosed cheque for £10" (The cheque was dated 12th July, 1889, on the National Provincial Bank).
Cross-examined. It is the custom, if a house is in the hands of several agents, for the one who lets the house to receive commission—I have made no claim for commission—if Mr. Arbour had introduced a satisfactory tenant he would be entitled to commission—I should consider from the time the landlord accepted a tenant that I was entitled to commission—I have had one or two letters from Dr. Moore.
GEORGE WILLIAM HAYWARD . I am a grocer, at 12, Shepherd Street, Mayfair—Dr. Moore is a customer of mine—on 18th May Phillips came to my shop and gave me this envelope, containing a cheque, and a request, purporting to come from Dr. Moore, that I would cash it (The cheque was drawn by A. A. Arbour, on the London and County Banking Company, for £1 16s. 6d.)—I let the boy have £1 168. 6d.—I afterwards paid in the cheque through the City Bank—it was returned, with a notice that the drawer was dead.
Cross-examined. I know you lived at 3, Hertford Street—I believe you have dealt at all three of my shops—you always paid me.
FREDERICK SLADE (Policeman B 84). About 6. 20 p. m., on 22nd July, I was duty in Parkside, Knightsbridge—I saw the prisoner detained by Dr. Moore and another gentleman—Dr. Moore gave him in custody for forgery of different cheques, and said that they knew all about it at Vine Street—the prisoner said, "They will have to prove it"—he asked me if they were detectives; I said, "I think not"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. You did not ask to go to the post-office, nor say you had to see someone there—I took you down the street at once.
WILLIAM KINROSS ARBOUR . I am a solicitor, of 10, Old Jewry Chambers—the late Mr. A. A. Arbour was my cousin; he died on 3rd December last—he was an auctioneer and estate agent, at 6, Davis Street, Berkeley Square—I wound up his estate—the prisoner was clerk to Mr. Arbour—I dismissed him on 8th December—he did not carry on the business—I know Mr. Arbour's writing very well—he had an account at the London and County Bank at the time of his death—the signature to this cheque for £1 16s. 6d., dated 17th May, 1889, is in my cousin's writing; it is payable to May and Co.; the date is in a different writing to the body, apparently—I have ascertained from the letter-book that they had an account against Mr. Arbour for that amount and that on 25th July, 1888, a cheque for that amount was sent to them—they were paid by a subsequent cheque, not by me—this cheque for £6 10s. is not in my cousin's writing; the body is the prisoner's writing—I cannot say whose writing the cheque for £10 is in; it is a different writing—my cousin had no account at the National Provincial Bank at the time of his death.
Cross-examined. There is a copy in the letter-book of a letter making a claim for work done against Dr Moore—"15th November, 1888. I
beg to enclose account for the letting of this house"—I have no copy of the account, nor anything about it—I found no papers relating to 3, Hertford Street; no draft account, inventory, nothing in his ledger—Mr. Arbour kept accounts, I cannot say up to what date—Dr. Moore made no claim on me in respect of the rent of 3, Hertford Street—I said you had behaved disgracefully; it seemed to me you had obtained possession of the house by false pretences, and ought to surrender it at once—you offered to pay the rent if he would give you 20 per cent, discount—I told Dr. Moore; I am not aware that he declined the offer; he took no further notice to me—Arbour's estate was paid in full; I don't think he had much money at the time of his death—part of his estate is realising as it goes on—most of the debts were trade ones; I paid them, and am receiving the money as it comes in.
Cross-examined. I have very little doubt these requests are in the prisoner's writing.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that his fellow clerk Saunders had this debt of nearly £20 to collect from Dr. Moore; that Saunders owed him £5, and gave him Hayward's cheque, and the letters, saying that if he got the money from Dr. Moore he could repay him; that he (the prisoner) never saw the contents of the letters; and that Saunders was waiting at the post-office for him to bring the money.
GUILTY of uttering. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended. WILLIE WELSH. I am an assistant to a grocer, of 37, Southampton Street, Holborn—I went out with the cart to buy fruit at Covent Garden, and got back about 7. 15—I left my horse and van outside—the horse had his nose-bag on, and the bit out of his mouth—I went in and had breakfast—I was three-quarters of an hour over it—I kept observation on the horse and van—about five minutes to eight I saw the horse turn from the pavement into the centre of the road, as if someone was enticing it across the road—I immediately went out and put the horse back to the kerb, and put the chain on the wheel—I saw no one about—I went indoors and sat down to breakfast again, and two minutes afterwards I looked up, and the horse was gone—I rushed into the road, but could see nothing of it—I went into Oxford Street and inquired of two constables; I got no information—I went into Holborn and inquired; I had another look up and down Oxford Street—I waited a minute or two, and then I went up Southampton Row, and through a court leading into Great Ormond Street; as I got out of the court I recognised the cart at the end of the street, two hundred yards off; I ran as hard as I could, and as I began to run the cart quickened its pace and turned into the next turning to Lamb's Conduit Street—I went into Lamb's Conduit Street as I got to the top the cart passed; the prisoner was driving it—I kept pace with it till I met Inspector Davis—then I went into the road to stop the cart, and the man drove straight on—the inspector held up his hand, and the prisoner stopped—I charged him with stealing the horse and cart, and he was taken in custody—there were a few vegetable marrows lying loose in the cart—when I went into breakfast there were in it
tomatoes, beans, and fruit and vegetables of the value of £3 2s. 6d.—the inspector asked the prisoner how he came by it—he said a man outside a public-house close by had given him 1s. to take the cart home to the address, 305, Oxford Street, which was on the cart, saying he had been taken ill—the prisoner said he was going to take the cart home—we all drove back to the public-house to see if we could see the man—it was a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after I missed the cart that I saw the prisoner driving it—it was about a quarter of a mile from Southampton Bow to the place I saw the cart again—the value of the horse and cart about £50 or £60—when I spoke to the inspector the cart was in Guildford Street, being driven towards Tottenham Court Road—the cart belongs to G. T. Cox and Sons.
Cross-examined. I did not call out before I spoke to the inspector, I was too far off—I called out to the inspector when the cart was between him and me; the prisoner drove on—I spoke to the inspector first in the prisoner's hearing—I said, "This horse and cart have been stolen, the prisoner is in charge of it"—the inspector said, "Will you charge him"—I said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "A man gave me a shilling to take the horse and cart home, as he was taken ill"—he did not say the man said he would give him a shilling out of his wages—the prisoner pointed out a public-house in the direction he had come from—we went to the public-house.
JOHN TAYLOR (Police Inspector E). About 8. 30 on the morning of 15th August I wag in Guildford Street; Welsh spoke to me—the prisoner walked up to me with the prosecutor—the horse and cart were standing in the road close by—the prisoner said. "He (meaning the prosecutor) says I stole this horse and cart"—I said to the prosecutor," What have you to say"—he said, "This man stole my horse and cart from No. 37, Southampton Street"—the prisoner said, "I did not steal it, a man outside a public-house (pointing to the Rutland Arms) gave me a shilling to take it to the address on the card"—I said, "Have you the shilling?"—he said "No; I am to have that when I come back"—I said, "Is the man outside the public now?"—he said, "I don't know"—the prisoner, the prosecutor, and I got into the cart and drove to the public-house, which is about 300 yards from where I arrested the prisoner—I could see no man there—I inquired inside—I got into the cart again, and we drove to 5, Great Ormond Street, where I saw Frances Collings, a domestic servant—I said to her," Have you seen this man before this morning?"—she said, in the prisoner's hearing," I saw him walking on the pavement alongside of the cart that stands there; afterwards I saw him get into the cart and drive away fast"—I took him to the station, and charged him; he made no reply.
FRANCES COLLINGS . I am in service at 5, Great Ormond Street—on this morning, a little after eight, I saw a horse and cart outside No. 6—the prisoner WAS sitting in the cart—he got out and walked up and down on the pavement a little while—then he got into the cart again, and drove off quickly—about 8. 30 the inspector came back to me, and a conversation took place between us.
Cross-examined. I was at the window when the inspector came back; he spoke to me—I had not spoken to anybody about what I had seen before that—the prisoner was in the cart at the time; I don't think he could hear what was said—after he had spoken to me, the prisoner came
to me at the door—the inspector asked me if that was the one I saw, and I said "Yes"—the inspector first asked me if I had seen anything—he saw me at the window, and thought I could give information—the cart went in the direction of the public-house—I had never before seen the man who got in the cart quickly and drove away; he was not long in my sight.
Re-examined. I am sure the man I saw on the pavement by the horse and cart is the same man I saw when the inspector spoke to me.
GUILTY . He then
PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony in February, 1888, at Guildhall.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. COLAM and KEELING Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
755. EUGENE GUMPERT (29) , To four indictments for forging and uttering requests for the delivery of certain goods, and to three indictments for unlawfully obtaining goods by false pretences from various persons, with intent to defraud. Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. BLACKMAN Prosecuted.
ROBERT FANCY . (Police Sergeant, D 34). On August 30th, about 1. 15 a. m., I examined No. 31, Goodge Street, Tottenham Court Road, and found that a cask had been removed from the iron gate at the front of the shop, and the door had been forced open—I called the prosecutor, who missed some property.
MORRIS RAPHAEL . I am a tailor, of 1 and 3, Goodge Street—on 30th August, between 1 and 2 a. m., I was awoke by the police, and found the gate forced, and marks as if some instrument had been used—I missed eighteen pairs of trousers, two coats, and a waistcoat, value about £15—I had tried all the doors at 12. 15, everything was safe, and I went to bed at 12. 30—these six pairs of trousers (produced) are mine.
FREDERICK SMITH (Policeman G 190). On 30th August, about 1 o'clock p. m., I was making inquiries at a pawnbroker's in the Caledonian Road respecting some stolen property, and someone in another compartment, who I could not see, offered a pair of new trousers in pledge—I asked to be allowed to look at them; the pawnbroker handed them to me, and the prisoner ran out of the shop—I ran out and saw him running down the street—I pursued him, brought him back, and said, "How do you account for being in possession of these trousers?"—he said, "A man gave them to me to pledge"—I said, "Where is the man?"—he said, "The other side of the road"—I took him outside, but he was unable to point out the man—I took him to the station, searched him, and found he was wearing another pair of new trousers which answered to the description, and which the prosecutor identified—
I found other pairs afterwards, which in several cases were pledged by a woman.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I know nothing about breaking and entering; I met a man in Caledonian Road, he asked me to pawn the trousers, and I did so; he gave me the others to wear."
Witness for the Defence.
ANNIE MEARS . I am the wife of John Patrick Hears, a tailor, and am the prisoner's mother—on Thursday night, August 29th, he was at home at twelve o'clock, and went out about seven next morning—he has a separate room.
Cross-examined. I remember that it was the 29th, because his younger brother, who is in a situation, had a holiday from Saturday till the following Friday—I am subject to spasms, and we all went to bed early that night, and James had to go to work on Friday morning; I fell off to sleep, but he brought me a bunch of flowers and woke me—he had been out of work nine months—I occupy the two kitchens—I am a light sleeper; I do not think he could go out without my hearing him; his room is next to mine.
Prisoner's Defence. I cannot see how they can charge me with burglary when I was in bed at the time. I admit pawning the trousers.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MARY ANN POTTS . I am the wife of George Potts, a bookbinder, of 64, Whitecross Street—on September 2nd, a little while after twelve o'clock, I was in Whitecross Street with Mary Ann Short; the prisoner came up by Basket Alley, and said, "If you will come up here I will give you 2s."—I pulled my shoulder away from him, and hit him on his face with my open hand, and told him to be off—we went towards home, and he came behind me and stabbed me—he was the only man there at the time; I fell, and remember no more.
By the COURT. He was the worse for drink; he put one hand in his pocket when he first came up—he offered me 2s. for a certain purpose, and my friend called him an old beast—after I hit him he ran away, and he stabbed me about five minutes afterwards in my right side—I screamed out—I did not put my hand in his pocket, and take his money; he did not seem as if he had anything to take—I do not know him.
MARY ANN SHORT . I am the wife of Edward Short, a tailor—on this Monday, after twelve o'clock, I came out of the Bedford Arms as they were closing—I had had a drop of drink, but I knew everything—I left my daughter to go to Royal Street, and went down Whitecross Street, and the prisoner came to Mrs. Potts, and took her by the shoulders, and said he would give her 2s. to go home with him—she told him to go home out of the cold, and perhaps his wife wanted 2s.—she struck him, and he came again, and put his hand on her shoulder—his hat fell off, and we went away, making a laugh at his offering two old ladies 2s.—I knew no more till Mrs. Potts said, "I am stabbed"—I said, "Where?"—she said, "In my side," and I saw the prisoner with a white-handled knife in his hand, making at her again—she fell—I called him a pig.
FREDERICK GOODWIN (Policeman G 105). I was on duty on this morning, about 12. 40; Mrs. Potts made a complaint to me with Mrs. Short—they went away, and a few minutes afterwards I heard calls of "Police!" and "Murder!"—I ran up Whitecross Street, and saw the two women in the road, and the prisoner running away; I followed him to the corner of Old Street—he struggled to get away, and tried several times to stab me with this knife (produced), which he had in his right hand—he was sober—Harwood came to my assistance, and after a struggle got the knife from the prisoner, which was open—the two women then came up, and said, "This man has stabbed us"—he said, "Serve you right; you should not try to take my money"—as the women were bleeding I took him to the station, and charged him with stabbing them and attempting to stab me—he said nothing—I found 5 1/2 d. on him.
HARWOOD (Policeman G 279). I was on duty in Whitecross Street about 12.20 a. m., and heard screams of Police!" and "Murder!" I ran in that direction, and saw the two women, and the prisoner running away from them, and Goodwin chasing him; he struggled with Goodwin, and was in the act of striking him with his hand—I caught hold of his hand, and found this open knife in it.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am divisional surgeon to the police—I examined Mary Ann Potts at 1 a. m.; she had a punctured wound on the outer side of her left breast, half an inch deep and about an inch long—there were corresponding cuts in her jacket, stays, and chemise—the upper edge of her stays was cut through where the binding goes over—this knife would cause it—the wound was not dangerous in itself, but it was in a dangerous part; it did not penetrate the chest wall; it was stopped by the rib, or it would have gone into the lungs—there must have been some violence, or it would not have gone through the bound part of the stays.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that the women attacked him first, and struck him in his face, and he resisted; and, having a knife in his hand cutting tobacco, it came in contact with them, and that he was trying to save his property.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Twenty Months' Hard Labour. There
was another indictment against the prisoner for wounding Mary Ann Short.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant:
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and
MESSRS. K. FRITH and KEELING Defended GROUT.
JOHN WILLIAM LAWRENCE . I live at Winkfield Terrace, Leyton, and am a bricklayer—about three o'clock on the morning of 30th July I was awakened, and looking out saw the two prisoners and two other men directly underneath me, trying to effect an entrance through the fanlight over my street door—I opened the window and said, "What are you doing there?"—they ran away in the direction of Clapton—there was sufficient light to see them—I went to the police-station, and made a complaint—about a quarter of an hour afterwards I pointed the prisoners out to Crickmay—Shaw was then half-way, and Grout was three-quarters of the
way in the window of Mr. May, a baker—a third man standing by on the look-out gave the alarm, and they made off towards Clapton—there were the same four men there that I had previously seen—we followed them—they crossed a nursery-ground—after some distance I met a constable in plain clothes, and with him crossed the marshes—we found the prisoners on the banks of the Lea—I recognised them, and gave them into custody, and they were taken to the station—when charged they made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. KEELING. I had not seen the prisoners before—there was no light from my house, but it is sufficiently light for me to see them.
FREDERICK CRICKMAY (Policeman N 418). About three o'clock on the morning of 30th July I was at Lea Bridge Station—Lawrence spoke to me, and we went in the direction of Manor Road, where I saw four men standing outside Mr. May's baker's shop—Lawrence and I crossed a field, and came back up to the other end of Manor Road—I saw a man sitting on a garden fence at the corner of the Manor Road; just before we got to him he whistled, and then he ran away towards Stratford—we ran towards the Manor Road, and getting to the corner we saw Shaw about three quarters in the window of May's shop, and Grout with his head and shoulders in—another man was standing at the side of the window about three yards off—we ran towards them—Shaw and Grout jumped out of the window and crossed the nursery; we followed—Shaw dropped these mufflers for feet one at a time—we afterwards went to Clapton Marshes, and saw the prisoners lying under the bank of the River Lea—I asked them what they had been doing—Shaw said, "Nothing"—Grout did not say anything—another constable was with me then—I took them back to Mr. Lawrence, who identified them as two of the men who had been trying to get into his house—I took them to the station; they made no reply to the charge.
JOSEPH MAY . I am a baker, of Manor Road, Leyton—on the night of 29th July I went to bed about eleven, leaving the Venetian blinds in front of my house drawn and the window fastened by an ordinary catch—about a quarter-past four in the morning my man called me and told me something—I got up, went downstairs, and found the Venetian blind of the kitchen, which is in the front of the house, drawn, and the white curtain caught in it.
WILLIAM ALFRED BURDEN (Policeman J 170). About twenty minutes to four, on 30th July, I was on duty in Lea Bridge Road, when my attention was called to two men crossing the marshes, and it being unusual at that time I kept observation on them—a few minutes afterwards Crickmay came and spoke to me—I went with him on to the marshes, and after searching, I found the two prisoners lying underneath the banks of the river—I said, "What are you doing there?"—Grout said, "Nothing"—we took them back to Mr. Lawrence, who identified them—they were taken to the station and charged, they made no reply.
ALFRED CHATTERLY (Policeman N 168). About twenty minutes to four, on 30th July, I was on duty in plain clothes in Lea Bridge Road—I saw the two prisoners crossing the marshes; a constable came and spoke to me, and I went on to the marshes after them; they were walking—we found them lying down against the bank of the river—the other constable took them into custody—we brought them back to Mr. Lawrence, who identified both of them—they were taken to the station, and
searched; knives and other things were found on them; nothing relating to the charge.
JAMES LEONARD (Police Inspector J). I examined Mr. May's premises—I found marks on both window-sashes; the paint and varnish were scratched, and there were marks on the catch, as if it had been, or had attempted to be, forced back—I was at the station when the prisoners were charged; they made no reply.
GROUT received a good character.
F. CRICKMAY (Re-examined). I saw both prisoners at the window—I was within a yard of them; they turned round and looked at me when they got out of the window—they had no appearance, when we found them under the banks of the Lea, of going to bathe—perspiration was dropping off them; they looked as if they had hurried.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of their youth. — Six Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
JOHN GARDINER (Detective). At a quarter to eight on the evening of 25th July I was in Forty Acre Lane, Plaistow, when I met the prisoner, about a quarter of a mile from prosecutrix's house, carrying something under his arm—I stopped him, and said, "What have you got there?"—the things he was carrying dropped on the ground—"It is some mangling," he said, "my mother has told me to take to my aunt to get mangled"—the things were perfectly wet; they were a twill sheet, two children's flannels, and petticoat.
CLARA ALDRIDGE . I am the wife "of James Aldridge, of 4, Martin Road, Canning Town—these articles are my husband's property—I saw them about six on Thursday evening, 25th July, and missed them about eight; they were hanging up to dry on a line in my back yard, into which you can get by getting over a fence which leads into a field.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he did not know what he was doing half his time.
He was further charged with having been convicted of felony at West Ham Police-court on the 15th June, 1889.
FREDERICK DICKER (Detective K). I produce the certificate of that conviction; it was for stealing a jacket and other articles—he was sentenced toone month hard labour—I was present at the trial—I identify the prisoner as the person referred to in that certificate; I know him well.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
MR. GRUBBE Prosecuted.
ERNEST RANGER . I keep the Builders' Arms, High Street, Stratford—on Monday, 5th August, the prisoner was on my premises the principal part of the day—I have known him as a customer for the last two and a half or three years—in the evening of the 5th August he was singing, to the nuisance of customers and myself—I asked him to desist; he would not—I had him removed from the premises; he came back the same evening; I got rid of him—about half-past ten on Tuesday he came and
asked for some ale; I refused to serve him—he was very much annoyed, and said, "Very well; I will go without"—I told him I should not serve him anymore—during the day and evening he came back; I refused to serve him—about a quarter to ten in the evening I heard a sound like a report or crashing noise, which turned out to be a stone thrown at the plate-glass window of the bar; I was in the bar; the window was splintered across, and powdered glass flew all over the bar—almost directly afterwards a stone came and struck the board underneath the window, and a second or two afterwards a third stone came in through the door, close to the broken window—I ran out; I saw the prisoner coming across the road, and I saw a constable that I had sent for directly the first stone came—I pointed out the prisoner, and he was taken into custody—the value of the window I ascertained to be about £6 10s.; I thought it was £8.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you aim the stone.
ELLEN RANGEE . I am the wife of the last witness—on the evening of 6th August I was in my front room pulling the blinds down—I saw the prisoner over the road, opposite the window, under a lamp-post—there were several lights in our bar window and outside—the road is not a broad one—it was about 10, as near as I can recollect—I saw the prisoner in the act of throwing a stone towards the window, which was broken—I opened the window where I was; I don't know if the prisoner saw me—I saw the stone coming across the road as I opened the window—as soon as he threw it he leaned over the rail there is there—he is very well known to me; he has been a customer of ours for nearly three years—I only saw one stone thrown—I was with my children, and it was three minutes before I came downstairs—I then saw him outside the house with Mr. Ranger and the police—I pointed out to the policeman who it was threw the stone.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was no friend there for you to hold up your hand to bid good-night to.
JOHN SCOTT (Policeman K R 34). I was called to the Builders' Arms on the night that Adams was given into my custody—I said, "You will be charged with breaking a pane of glass"—he said, "All right"—on the way to the station he said, "I did not throw the stone"—he was very drunk at the time—he could walk, but he staggered—he was taken to the station and charged.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have used the house a good while. I have never got myself into trouble before. I have never disgraced myself."
GUILTY. The Prosecutor recommended him to mercy. — Discharged on recognisances.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. K. FRITH Defended.
ABDUL RAHMANN (interpreted). I am a seaman on board the Duke of Devonshire, in the Victoria Docks—on Sunday, September 15th. I was in the Victoria Dock with Haffeez and Baboo, and saw the prisoner there and another man—the prisoner said, "Are you working on board the ship?"; I said, "No"; he said, "Ah, you black sewer"; I said, "I am not a black sewer"—he held up his hand as if he was going to strike me with his fist, and he had a knife in his hand—I said, "Hold on, hold
on!" and held my hand up to defend myself—he struck me on my hand with the knife and cut it, and they both ran away, different ways—we all three followed the prisoner—one of my men seized him, and a policeman took him—I went to the station and had my hand bound up.
Cross-examined. There was blood on the knife, which was shown me at the station—I saw it at the time I was struck, and the prisoner put it in his pocket—this is it (produced).
HAFFEEZ (interpreted). I am a waiter on board a ship in the Albert Dock—on Sunday, September 15th, I was with Rahmann and Baboo in the Docks, and the prisoner came up to Rahmann and said, "Are you doing work on board ship?" and he said, "I am not"—the prisoner said, "You sewer, I saw you working on Saturday," and drew a knife and attempted to strike Rahmann, who put up his hand to defend himself, and caught the blow—I saw him bleeding—the prisoner ran away—I sang out "Gate, gate, police!"and he was stopped.
Cross-examined, He put the knife in his pocket—there are never many people in the Docks on a Sunday.
BABOO (Interpreted). I was with Haffeez and Rahmann in the dock, and saw the prisoner and another man—the prisoner said, "You men are working on board the ship"—he said, "No, we are not"—he said, "You are sewers," and used abusive language, and hit him—I saw him raise a knife to strike him, and he put up his hand to defend himself, and caught the blow—I am sure it was the prisoner who struck—I followed him, and he was taken.
HENRY GEORGE WHITE (Dock Constable). On Sunday, 15th September, I was on duty in the Victoria Docks, heard a call of "Police," went about forty yards up the road, and saw the prisoner, followed by three Lascars, coming towards me—they overtook him, and Haffeez, who spoke English, told me in the prisoner's hearing that the prisoner had stabbed his mate or friend in the hand—I took the prisoner to the box, about forty yards away, and found a knife closed in his trousers pocket—I found no trace of blood on it—I took him to the dock station, and he was handed over to the Metropolitan Police with the knife.
Cross-examined. I saw no trace of blood on his clothes—he said he did not stab the prosecutor—he is not in the employ of the Dock Company; I never saw him before—a few Lascars collected some time afterwards, but no English people.
MR. FRITH called HENRY WATTS. I am a lighterman, the prisoner is a printer—I was with him on this day coming out of the docks, and these blacks were standing in the path, seven or eight of, them—Haffeez gave me a black look, and said he would split me in two halves, and with that he struck me on my chest with his fist, and the prosecutor picked up a piece of iron and threw it at me—I did not stop, I kept on running, and missed my mate, and went out at the gate and round to the other gate, and they took me to the Custom House—before the running nobody had stabbed the Lascar that I saw—the prisoner did not stab him, that I swear—there were seven or eight black men, and only two on the path—I had no knife—there were only us two—I saw no blood on the prisoner's clothes—I am sure he did not stab the man.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner three years—this was Sunday, and the docks were shut—I was drinking with the prisoner outside just before we entered the docks—I knew he had been arrested when I got to the other gate, and they took me to the station—I told the prosecutor I had been with the prisoner the whole afternoon—they turned me out of the station, but did not say it was because I was too drunk to be there—I saw the inspector there; he did not tell me I was creating a disturbance, that I know of—I knew that the prisoner was going before a Magistrate—I went to the Police-court, but was too late to give evidence, as I had to go to my barges to pump them out.
Re-examined. I was subpœnaed to come here—I told the prisoner's father what I was going to say—there is no foundation for saying I was so drunk as not to know what was being done—the prisoner was sober.
By the COURT. I have my knife with me; I always carry one; I had it in my pocket at the time—I didn't mean to say that I stabbed him; no knife was used—I am a lighterman—I had not been on strike—I was watching the barges, not unloading them.
Witness in reply.
THOMAS MAVNER (Police Inspector). I was at Canning Town on 15th September, when the prisoner was brought to the station—I saw "Watts there; he was creating a disturbance, and you could not hear anybody speak—he was considerably under the influence of drink, and I told him to go out of the station—the prisoner was not drunk.
Cross-examined. Watts had a knife—I examined it—he was very talkative.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
He stated that he was guilty of stealing the work-box, upon which the JURY found that verdict. — Six Days' Imprisonment.
The prisoner stated that he was ignorant of the law, and thought that sixteen was the age prescribed by the Statute, upon which the JURY found him
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRUBBE Prosecuted; MR. WABBUBTON Defended.
SAMUEL SPELLER . I am a labourer, of Thorpe Park—on 4th July, about 11 p. m., I came out of the Windsor Castle public-house—they were fighting outside—I took no part in it—two minutes after I went out I was stabbed in my back twice—I did not see by whom—there were two or three black men—I was simply looking on—I called out "I am stabbed," and fell—I was taken to Poplar Hospital, and was there three weeks and five days.
Cross-examined. I work in the docks—I do not know that black sailors are bullied and jeered at a good deal—I had been in the house two hours
with friends, but came out alone—I had not had too much to drink—I could see them as well as I can now—there were fifteen or sixteen men shouting and fighting—it was pretty dark.
JOHN ELLINGHAM . I live in Canning Town—on 4th July I was near the Windsor Castle, and saw three dark men coming along, two of whom, the prisoner being one, went up to a young woman—she screamed, and two white men came up, one of whom pushed a black man, who hit him with a stick—the prisoner had a stick and used it on the white men—three white men then came up with more black men, and they were all fighting together—a few people collected, but no one took part in the disturbance except the three white men and the three black men—I saw Speller standing there—Mufta was fighting, and a man hit him—he had a knife in his hand, and another black man handed him another knife—the other chaps walked away, and Mufta rushed at Speller, who bobbed his head down, and Mufta stabbed him in the back over his shoulder—he said, "Oh, I am stabbed," and fell—the three black men ran up Victoria Dock Road.
Cross-examined. Mufta's stick was a cane, and the other's a bamboo—one black man was carrying some goods—I heard someone call the blacks sewers (swine)—Mufta was struck across the neck with a heavy belt a violent blow, before he used the knife—Speller did not push Mufta—the Englishmen were about the same size as the prisoner—there were about a dozen people altogether—when the young woman screamed, one of the black men was shoved by one of the white men—I did not see how many blows were struck on the prisoner besides the one with the belt—he was fighting as well as the others—the crowd was very close round them.
JAMES JACKS . I am a butcher, of Abbots Road, Bromley, and work at Mr. Lambert's shop—on 4th July I was standing by the shop, and saw three black men pass—the prisoner was one—they were rowing among themselves—they passed on, and I heard a row, and ran up, and they were fighting with sticks—there were some white men as well—I did not see Speller till the moment Mufta stabbed him—I saw both Mufta's hands go down, but I only saw one knife—he called out," I am stabbed," and I ran after Mufta, calling "Police"—a policeman caught him, and I took this knife (produced) out of his hand—it had blood on the point; I gave it to the inspector—I did not see the beginning of the squabble, or see Speller take any part in the struggle.
Cross-examined. Speller seemed to be having a little struggle with Mufta to get away.
Re-examined. I said before, "I did not see Speller take any part in the quarrel, "but he bent his head to get away from the knife—that is what I mean; he bent his head after the knife was actually drawn.
JOHN WILLETT (Policeman). On 4th July I was going towards Barking Road—someone called" Police!" two or three times, and I saw three black men running fast towards me—two of them had sticks, and the prisoner had a knife—I seized him, and asked Jacks to take the knife from his hand—after we got to the station two other black men were brought there.
Cross-examined. Black men are bullied and jeered at in that neighbourhood—I have heard the word "sewers" applied to them—this is such a knife as sailors generally carry.
—I heard cries, and assisted in capturing the prisoner; he had a knife in his right hand, it appeared to have been wiped—I took him to the station.
FREDERICK PRESTON . I am house surgeon at Poplar Hospital—I examined Speller on 4th July, and found two incised and punctured wounds, one under his left shoulder-blade, and the other four inches below it; they were too dangerous to probe, as I might have gone into the lungs—he was suffering from shock, and there was effusion of blood into the pleural cavity—they might have been inflicted by such a knife as this—he is quite well now—he remained in the hospital nearly four weeks.
HERBERT WILLIAM REYNOLDS . I am a railway porter—on 5th July, about 5.50 p. m., I found this knife (another) lying at the side of the railway on some brick rubbish, as if somebody had thrown it from the road, a little above where the scuffle took place; a person going along the road could have thrown it on the line—there was what I took to be rust on it; I cleaned it and gave it to the police two or three days afterwards.
JAMES CUMMINS (Police Inspector). I was on duty at Canning Town police-station when the prisoner was brought in—the charge was interpreted to him, and he said if the policeman was attacked by nine or ten men, would he not use his knife—he said that he did it—I searched him, and found the sheath of a knife; it fits the knife that he had in his hand—two other dark men were brought to the station, and I found the other sheath on Billa—the third man was Juma.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of the severe provocation. MR. WILKINSON stated that the prisoner had lost his ship and his property, and that he had been eleven weeks in prison; a missionary undertook to put him on board a ship next day.— Five Days' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
of the Court.
EDWARD PAUL . I am a greengrocer, of 193, Stanstead Road, Forest Hill—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—I have noticed for some time that he has been very strange in his manner, and I went to a doctor to try to get him put away—he was in the army, and was discharged, being insane, in April this year—on 29th July he was at my house at tea—I left him outside the house when I went out about four—I returned at ten, and found him still outside—I went in; he remained outside—I wanted him to go away—I came out, and went for a policeman, and brought him there—as I was going into the house the prisoner took a revolver out of his pocket, fired at me, and hit me in the right arm—a second shot was fired, which went through the window—there was a third shot fired at the constable—there was no animosity whatever between the prisoner and me—except that he is insane, I cannot account for what he did.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I have had the prisoner under my observation since he has been in Holloway Gaol—I have formed the opinion that he is insane, and irresponsible for Jus actions—I do not think he knows the difference between right and wrong, or the nature and quality of any act he commits—he has many delusions, and is not in a state to understand what is going on.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. To be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MR. BESLEY and MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Sergeant.
MR. BLACK Prosecuted. HENRIETTA GREEN. I live at Beresford Street, Woolwich, and am caretaker at the Methodist Free Church—on Sunday evening, 21st April, I locked up the church, and saw everything secure; a gong, ninety spoons, three boots, and two bottles of wine were then safe—on Wednesday, 24th April, I went to the church and missed the spoons, two bottles of wine, two boots, and a gong—the vestry window was a little open, and one pane of glass was broken, in order that the catch could be got at—the vestry was in great disorder; things were strewn about, the collecting boxes were broken open; nothing was left in them—the window was closed before I left on the previous Sunday—I identify these things—these are sixty out of ninety spoons—Mr. John Johnson and Mr. Phoenix are the trustees.
JAMES SHILLINGFORD . I live at 35, Martin Street, Charlton, and am a marine store dealer—on 23rd April I bought these spoons from the prisoner—I asked him where he got them, and he said, "I picked them up in Greenwich Park on Easter Monday"—that would be the 20th—he wanted me to buy them—I said, "All I can afford you for them is ninepence"—he took ninepence, and left the spoons; they were lead and brass—I put them in the window for sale, and two or three days after the police saw them there, and came in with reference to them—I do not think the real value of them was more than half-a-crown new.
HENRY RETHERFORD (Detective Officer). On 25th April I received information about this robbery—in company with Alexander, I made inquiries at the marine store dealers', and saw these spoons in Shillingford's window—he told us something, and the same evening we went to Rope Yard Rents, Woolwich, and inquired for the prisoner; he was not in—I called again about two hours afterwards, and was then told that he was gone—I did not see him until last Thursday week, the 14th, when I met him in Church Street, Woolwich, shortly after twelve—I told him he would be charged with breaking into the church in Beresford Street—he said, "I did not steal the things; a man gave them to me to sell on the road"—at the station he said, "I bought the things of a strange
man for 1s. 6d., and sold them for 9d."—I said, "Why did you go away if you weren't guilty?"—he said, "As I had been to prison before, and I knew I was suspected, I went down to Maidstone"—I said, "What about the wine that was stolen there?"—he said, "I drunk it in a lodging-house"—I found in his coat pocket behind a pint pewter pot, which had been stolen three or four nights previously—I asked him where he got that from—he said he picked it up in one of the alleys—the charge was read to him at the station; he made no reply.
FREDERICK ALEXANDER (Police Detective R). On 24th April I was spoken to about the robbery—I found the contribution-boxes broken open; the vestry was ransacked, and things all in disorder; a pane of glass near the catch of the vestry window was broken sufficiently to admit a hand; the catch was pushed back, and the window opened—the window was about six feet from the ground—I found on the wall marks where the feet had scratched in climbing.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said he met, a young man, who sold him the articles, and that afterwards, hearing a detective was looking for him, he went away, as he had been in prison before.
GUILTY of receiving. —He then
PLEADED GUILTY*† to a conviction of felony in August, 1888.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MESSRS. GILL and A. E. GILL Defended.
Before the case for the prosecution was opened, MR. GILL called the attention of the
COURT to certain evidence in the depositions, which mainly referred to another charge against the prisoner, which he averred was not relevant to the present indictment, and which therefore he submitted ought not to be opened to the JURY. MR. MATHEWS considered it was necessary that the evidence referred to by MR. GILL should be laid before the JURY, in order that they should properly appreciate the nature of the case.
MR. JUSTICE CHARLES considered the objection premature; it must be taken when the evidence was tendered. Upon MR. MATHEWS proceeding to open the evidence, MR. GILL interposed, and submitted that the prosecution was not entitled upon one charge to give evidence of two crimes, unless it was impossible to describe the one without going into the circumstances of the other; the present was a separate and distinct felony, and the evidence could not be said to constitute one entire transaction. In support of his contention he referred to Re Ellis, 6 Barnwell and Cresswell, Rex v. Birdseye, 4 Carrington and Payne 386; to Mr. Justice Stephen's work, c. 3 art. 10; and Re Rooney 7 Carrington and Payne 517.
MR. JUSTICE CHARLES, while quite concurring with the view that evidence relating to facts entirely disconnected from the charge before the COURT was inadmissible, did not see his way to withholding from the consideration of the JURY the evidence sought to be excluded. The whole of the evidence of the
prisoner's conduct on the occasion was material. It seemed to him that the facts proposed to be detailed were necessary to explain the case; in other words, they fell within the conditions of Mr. Justice Stephen's ruling in ch. 2, article 9, as being "facts explaining relevant facts. "The evidence must therefore be given.
GEORGE FREDERICK FARRE . I am a surgeon, practising at 175, Kennington Road, and am divisional surgeon of police—about four in the morning of Saturday, 29th June, I was called to the police-station in Kennington Road; I there saw the prisoner—I first said to him, "What brings you here?"—he made no reply—he looked wild and excited in his eyes—I said, "Have you been drinking?"—he said, "Yes, I have"—he smelt of drink—he had been drinking a good deal, as one who had been drinking for some days, but he stood perfectly erect, and seemed to understand everything perfectly—I then had hold of his hand, and was feeling his pulse, and I proceeded to examine his hand—I said, "I want to look at your hand"—I then noticed some blood on the outer part of his left wristband—I said, "How do you account for this blood on here?"—he said, "Oh, I had a row with some fellow-lodgers last Monday night, and my nose bled, and some of it dropped on there"—I said I thought it looked fresher than if it had been done the week before—I then attempted to turn up the cuff of his coat—he said, "Wait a minute, I will take my coat off "; which he did, and threw it on to a seat behind him—there was no more blood about him anywhere, except on the outer part of the right hand; there was a spot of blood about the size of a little more than one-eighth of an inch in circumference, between the base of his little finger and his wrist, that was quite dry—I said it was blood; but he could not account for it, he did not make any statement about it—there was no trace of blood about his clothes or anywhere else—this knife (produced) was shown to me at the station by Inspector Martin; that was not in the prisoner's presence, it was about a quarter-past four, after seeing the prisoner—it is a two bladed knife—I found the whole of the large blade thoroughly saturated with blood, from point to shank, and about a halfinch or rather less on the handle of the knife—the back of both sides of the blade were all equally covered with dry blood—the blood on the handle was more on one side than the other, but there was a little on both sides—the blood on the blade did not appear to have been dropped on it—it had the appearance of having been plunged into something, as having been thrust into some flesh up to the, hilt, as if it had been used in that way, and went home—the spot of blood on the hand corresponds exactly with that; it is not now in the same condition as it was when I saw it; some of the blood has been rubbed off, off the handle entirely—it still shows on the hilt, but not so much; it has undergone some atmospheric change—having seen the knife, I went with the inspector to St. Thomas's Hospital, and there saw the deceased George Howard—he was then dead—I found an incised wound on the left side of his neck about the width of this blade—that was all I saw—I afterwards heard evidence as to that wound given by the gentleman who made the post-mortem examination—I also, at the same time at the hospital, saw Margaret Webb—I did not examine her wounds there; she was removed next day to the infirmary, and there I examined her—there was a punctured wound just at the entrance to the
ear, and a superficial wound along the outer part of the cartilage of the ear—it was a wound that might have been produced by this knife—the two wounds were such as might have been produced by one blow—I believe the wound in the ear had severed an artery; it was closed when I saw it; I am not able to say more—Q. In your judgment, would the condition in which you found that knife be accounted for by its having been used to stab that woman? A. No, I certainly think not; in my judgment it would be accounted for by having been used to inflict the wound on the man Howard—the stabbing of the woman would not account for it, because hers was a very superficial wound; although dividing a small artery, the point of the knife would go in a very little way before it came in contact with the bone, and my opinion was, upon examination, that the knife had been struck down into the ear, and the superficial cut had been caused by withdrawing the knife—I say that the knife could not have been so thoroughly saturated with blood by inflicting that wound in the ear, because if the artery had spurted to the extent of being able to saturate the knife so thoroughly, it must have been more on the handle as well; and not only that, but I say it was impossible, because the man must have been sprinkled with blood, and there was not any on him except what he had on the arm; he must have got blood on his clothes, and he had no opportunity of removing it; he was not lost sight of from the time of the infliction of the wound till I saw him at the hospital; there must have been some blood on his clothes to account for the knife having been so thoroughly saturated with blood; that is why I state my opinion; I think the dry condition of the blood on the knife, which I found at four o'clock, is consistent with its having been used at two or three the same morning; it would be impossible to say for an hour or two how long since it had been used—as to the spot of blood on his hand, that is equally consistent with its having come there at two or three that morning.
Cross-examined. When I went to the station about four I do not think the prisoner had been charged—I knew what he was there for, and expected he would be charged with murder—I was sent for to examine as to his general state; he had been drinking—I did not go there for the purpose of asking him questions—I merely said to him, as I have to hundreds, "What brings you here?"—I did not question him particularly—I asked him to account for the spot of blood on his shirt—I was called on account of a man having been murdered, and a woman stabbed, and as the prisoner was at the station I was requested to examine him—I considered it part of my duty to ask him questions; I made no note of the conversation—(shirt produced) there is a spot of blood on the underpart of the cuff; it might have been there two or three days; I could not say for a day or two—I said it could not have been caused by his nose bleeding and dropping on it—the version of it I gave at the Police-court was, "I had a tussle with two fellows at my lodging on Monday night, that made my nose bleed, and that is how I account for it"—he said it dropped on it—I did not hear a description of the tussle; I was not present when it was given; I did not hear the whole of it probably; it was that a fellowlodger pulled his nose—if he put up his hand to prevent it blood might have dropped on his cuff on the inside, but it would be awkward—I don't think it could have happened in that way; I don't say it is impossible—
I may have said that the blood was fresher, and that it was not caused in the way he described—I was not inviting him to make some further statement—I could not say whether the knife had passed through two or three hands before it reached me; it was open—I did not inquire whether it was shut or open when it was found—if the blood on it was wet, I don't think shutting it would spread the blood over the blade—I went to the station with Inspector Martin; I did not talk the matter over with him or with anybody before I saw the prisoner; I think a constable was sent to my house for me—I knew nothing beyond that a man had been stabbed; I knew nothing about the knife—I don't think it was of importance whether the knife was found shut or open—in the case of the woman, I believe that an artery had been severed; I did not see it; I only saw the wound after it had been closed with suture—I should probably have been able to form a better opinion if I had seen it before that was done; in that condition it would not be an easy thing to form an opinion as to what sort of wound it was—I did not see it Weeding; the artery in the neck would not spurt blood; it would if in the ear—there would be a very small jet from it; it might not go on the knife, not to saturate it to that extent; I think that would be impossible—the blood might or might not spurt on to the knife—I say it was impossible for the knife to have got covered with blood to the extent it did from that wound in the ear—when I use the word "saturated," I mean "covered" with blood—in order to express a confident opinion about a wound it is desirable to be present at the post-mortem—I should like to have seen it; I don't think my opinion would have been more valuable—I think it would have been an advantage—I was disappointed at not seeing it; I don't think it would alter my opinion, because I heard the evidence of the post-mortem afterwards—I should like to have seen the wound dissected; I went to the hospital for the express purpose of doing so—I was present at the inquest; I did not give evidence—I heard Mr. James give evidence; he had the advantage of performing the postmortem—I heard the expression of his opinion with regard to it; I did not hear him say that the blood from the woman would account for the blood on the knife, nor" The knife might possibly inflict such a wound; I should not think it went in to the hilt"—the room was a very long one, and I was not near the Coroner at the time the evidence was given—there were some disagreeable circumstances connected with this matter—I had an appointment to attend the post-mortem: I went there, and I was told it could not be made that morning, because the man who had charge of the mortuary had the key; and it was performed without my having the opportunity of being present—I was not treated properly—I expected the Coroner would have called me to give my opinion—I heard Mr. James' evidence as far as I was able, but I did not hear him say," I should not think it went in to the hilt of the knife"—that is quite new to me—I did not hear him say, "There might have been as much blood on the knife from the woman's wound;" and I do not agree with it—I express a confident opinion to the contrary, and I hope I have explained why.
Re-examined. I am of opinion that the knife must have gone in up to the hilt and over, also that the condition of the knife was not to be accounted for by the wound on the woman, and was to be accounted for by the wound on the man—the knife did not indicate anything as to its
having been withdrawn from the wound; I could not give you any reason for my thinking so, I merely say it was entirely covered with blood; I could not tell whether that was caused by being thrust into the wound, or withdrawn from it; it was a smeared condition, it was thicker in some parts, naturally it would be so; it would get spotted, so to say.
CHARLES HENRY JAMES . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on Saturday morning, 29th June, about twenty minutes past two, George Howard was brought there; blood was trickling from a wound in his neck, and was coming more freely from his mouth; he was unconscious, and died in a few minutes—I only examined the wound externally that night; it was on the left side of the neck, half an inch in length, a cleancut wound, and in a transverse direction—a little after half-past three the same morning Margaret Webb was brought to the hospital—I found on her two wounds in the right ear, one a transverse one, superficial in nature, just above the lobule of the ear, another a small punctured one just at the entrance of the passage of the ear, the drum of the ear—in this there was a spurting artery; it was spurting at the time I saw it; the artery had been severed by some sharp instrument—I have the original sketch of it which I made at the time (produced)—in my opinion both those wounds might have been inflicted by one blow from this knife—I tied up the artery and sewed up the superficial wound—she remained in the hospital till next day—on the Monday following, 1st July, I made a post-mortem of the body of the man—I minutely examined the wound in the throat—it was a transverse clean-cut punctured wound, an inch and a half below the angle of the jaw; it passed through the sterno mastoid muscle, and severed or half-cut through the common carotid artery—it was about half an inch in width, and entered the cavity of the pharynx, the upper end of the gullet—that wound was about an inch in depth, till it got to the pharynx, the artery is actually lying on the pharynx—the total depth of the wound was a little over an inch—it then entered the pharynx, which is a potential cavity; the wound would end there—in my opinion that wound was inflicted by a sharp instrument, such as this knife—I first saw the knife at the inquest on July 2nd—I noticed its condition then; it had stains of blood on the blade, it was in very much the same condition that it is now except that there was a little blood on the handle as well—I thought it might have caused the wound, and that the blood on it might have come from the man's neck—there was just a little blood on the handle; it did not go from point to hilt—it is much in the same condition now—I thought that a little spurt of blood from a vessel might have caused the blood on the handle—it need not have been plunged in the whole length of the blade—I was asked that question at the inquest, and I said that the little flange at the end might have caused the wound to be a little more ragged, as it was perfectly sharp—I did not think this little bit had gone over—I do not think that the whole blade had been the plunged into the wound; that is my opinion—I should have expected to find some ragged appearance, and I should have expected some bruising of the muscle if it had gone in; but I could not say conclusively—the blood on the shoulder might have been the spurting of arterial blood; that would be a common result—the knife might have effected the wound on the woman's ear; I could not say definitely—in my opinion the condition in which I saw the knife on the Tuesday was consistent with having effected the wounds on the woman—there was nothing
in the condition of the knife inconsistent with having occasioned that wound alone; I should not like to say definitely—I understand that Dr. Farre said at the Police-court that both sides of the blade were smeared with blood from point to hilt; that was not so when I saw it—if it was so, of course that would not be consistent with the wound in the woman's ear—if the blade had been completely smeared on both sides down to the shoulder, that would be inconsistent with having caused the wound on the woman alone—assuming the condition described by Dr. Farre, I should say that was consistent with having inflicted the wound on the man's neck—my opinion was entirely formed from the condition of the knife on the 2nd July—assuming Dr. Farre's description to be correct as to its condition on the 29th June, I should then agree with the opinion he has expressed.
Cross-examined. I knew that Dr. Farre had desired to be present at the post-mortem—I made arrangements for him to come on the Sunday morning, but unfortunately when I turned up I could not find our man—the body was taken away from the hospital, and of course it could not be done till the Monday—the wound on the man, after penetrating an inch, would come to a cavity; the breadth of that cavity would be over an inch; beyond the cavity it is speculation as to how far the knife went; there was no mark on the farther side—I thought it probable that the hilt had not gone in, because it was a very clean wound—the length of the blade is over two inches; if the knife had been plunged in the whole length to the hilt, I should have expected to find some mark produced by the small flange; the blood on the handle would be produced by its running down the handle—with such a wound on the man there might be no blood, or very little on the knife; a knife might cause such a wound, and yet be almost clean—the woman was bleeding freely—the small artery I took up and tied would spurt a small jet of blood, and that might be spread in handling or shutting the knife—I said before the Coroner that the knife might possibly have caused the wound on the man—there might have been as much blood on the knife from the woman—it is of course a great advantage in forming an opinion about the nature of a wound, to trace it on the post-mortem.
Re-examined. I should place more reliance on observation made at a post-mortem than on hearing an account of it afterwards—if the knife had just gone into the pharynx, the ragged edge of it would not have come into the wound at all, and it would not have gone in up to the hilt—I have no doubt the man died from this wound.
CHARLES HENRY COLLETT (Police Sergeant L 5). I was in charge of Kennington Station on the early morning of 29th June—the prisoner was brought there about half-past three—he had the appearance of having been drinking heavily, and was recovering from the effects of it—he said nothing—I asked, in his hearing, what the charge was, and I was told by L 49 that he had stabbed a man on the Embankment—he made no reply to that—I then searched him; that was about three or four minutes after he was brought in—I found this knife in his righthand waistcoat pocket; it was shut—I opened the larger blade—before I opened it I noticed a little blood on the handle, by the shoulder; I could see it was blood along the edges of the blade, at the back just where it shuts down; only on one side—there was none on the other side—I then
opened the blade; it was smeared with blood up to the shoulder on both sides; it was of a bright, very red colour, quite dry—I said to the constable, in the prisoner's hearing, "Why, the blade of this knife is smeared with blood!"—the prisoner said nothing in my hearing—I handed the knife to Inspector Jackson.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not drunk—he appeared to have been drinking very heavily, and recovering from the effects of it—he did not stand alone; there was a constable on each side of him—they kept him in custody as they brought him in; they did not loose their hold of him.
By the JURY. I could not say whether there was any blood in his pocket.
JOHN MACRAE . I am a gardener, living at 79, Hamilton Road, West Norwood—on Saturday morning, 29th June, I was charged with drunkenness at the Lambeth Police-court; a man named Baldry was charged there at the same time; before we were taken before the Magistrate we were put into a waiting-room together—about ten minutes afterwards the prisoner was put into the same room; that might be about ten or soon after—I and Baldry had some talk together, and then I said to prisoner, "I suppose you will get off by paying a fine of 5s.?"—he said, "Very probably"—I said, "What are you brought in for?"—he made no remark then, but after he heard me and Baldry conversing together a quarter of an hour he said, "I am charged with stabbing a man"—he was dressed very superior to us; we were in our working clothes—I said, "Nonsense, man!"—he said, "Yes, I am, and they have got my shirt"—I thought he had got a shirt on; I said, "Nonsense, man! never, I hope"—he said, "Yes, and they have got me, because there is a stain of blood on my wristband; he afterwards lifted up his sleeve, and I could see he had no shirt on, and was wearing a flannel—he said he could account for the blood on his wristband, because he was having an argument with one or two lodgers who were staying in the same house as he was; I said I thought it was nonsense he was speaking about; he said no, it was not, because they had got his shirt, and stripped him of everything—I said, "How came they to arrest you? were you talking to the man; was there any argument, or a fight with the man?"—he said, "No, I never saw the man before"—I said, "Then how did they come to arrest you; was there a crowd round the place?"—he said, "No, there was a very few people; the man was standing there, and I saw him stabbed, and saw blood running down the stones or the steps," I can't say which; and he said he saw the man carried up the steps to the hospital, and very soon afterwards heard he was dead—I said, "But how did they arrest you?"—he said, "I was running away"—I said, "Why?"—he said, "Because I was frightened, and saw other people running away"—I said I thought it impossible for such an occurrence to take place—he said he was running away, that was all—he said a lot of other things afterwards—he said, "The man was stabbed there;" lifting his right hand—during the conversation a constable entered the room, and he asked the prisoner if his name was "ar" or "er"—he said his name ended with "or"—I asked him if he lived about here—he said, "No, I never lived here, I lived at Mare Street, Hackney"—I said, "Have you got any relatives or friends about here?"—he said,
"No, I have only one brother living, and I wish I knew where he was"—I said, "If your brother is in the habit of reading the newspapers, and if what you are telling us is the truth, he will soon know where you are"—some time afterwards he said, "Supposing I did cut a man's head off?" or "supposing they saw me cut it rignt off?" or "the man's head was cut off, what would you do to me?"—I thought he was larking with me, and I said, in the way of a joke, as much as anything, that I should certainly hang him up to the highest tree in England if he had done such a thing—he then said, "Supposing the man is not dead, and you stabbed the man, what would you do?"—I said, "If you stabbed an innocent man I should certainly give you twenty years' penal servitude"—he said, "I could never do ten years' penal servitude"—I think he said, during the conversation, "They have put me against a lot of navies, and I was identified among a lot of navies by some women afterwards—I was taken before the Magistrate and fined—afterwards, on the same day, I made a note of this conversation with pencil in my pocket-book—I told several gentlemen about it in Brixton and Clapham, and I showed my pocket-book to the inspector—this is it (produced)—a few days afterwards I made another memorandum of it in ink—I did not copy one from the other, simply from memory—this is it (produced).
Cross-examined. There was no one else in the room but Baldry, the prisoner, and myself at the time of this conversation—I was there about about half an hour before the prisoner was brought in—I had been locked up at nine on Friday night, simply for having a glass of ale too much; I was charged with being drunk, not disorderly—the omnibus conductor who charged me paid my fine, or part of it—I afterwards got a sovereign from my master, and I gave the conductor 10s. 6d., and 6s. towards breaking a glass; I don't remember breaking the glass—when I had this conversation with the prisoner I did not wait to hear what he was charged with, because I took him to be the same as ourselves, drunk and disorderly—I spoke to a policeman about this the same day, near the Tulse Hill Hotel; I am not aware that a policeman found me lying asleep in the front garden of an unoccupied house—I can't say but what I may have been there—it was not at half-past twelve at night that I spoke to the constable about this, it was early in the afternoon—I have a slight recollection of a constable coming and saying, "You have no right to sleep there"—that was long after I had reported the case to the constable—I know the gardens in the neighbourhood, and so I went in there to sleep—I wrote the principal part of this account the morning I left, and part of it in the Court-room at Lambeth on 29th June—I have told this story to a good many people; a constable at Tulse Hill was the first man I reported it to—I reported it to my own friends I wrote this paper on the 29th June, to the best of my recollection; that was before I was found asleep in the garden—I took the note in my pocket-book nearly the same day—this is it; it is an old almanac—I handed it over to the inspector—he went to my house—this other is a different pocket-book; there is nothing there relating to it—I wrote it down with pen and ink, and the two pages I wrote it on are minus—the book was destroyed at the time; I said so at Lambeth—it was simply abstracted out of the book, and I wrote it down in black and white—here are some more leaves—I tore out the leaves—I had the leaves in my pocket the day I was brought before the magistrate—I copied the pencil
marks in ink; I believe the pages are gone—I wrote this the same morning I had the conversation with the prisoner—I kept it in my pocket for some time—I showed it to the constable at Tulse Hill, and he said I had better report the case at Scotland Yard—I did not take any notice of it at the time, not till four or five days after; then I reported it at Scotland Yard—I wrote this in ink a few days afterwards—I carried the pencil marks in my pocket for some time before it was obliterated, and then I wrote it out again—I did not copy it; I put it down to the best of my belief—I wrote down the principal part in pencil while I was in the waiting-room; what I wrote in ink was afterwards—all the pencil marks were written down either in the waiting-room or going on the road home—it was not all written while the prisoner was there; part of it was—I remember speaking to a constable at the Police-court at the time I was charged, and saying to him that there was a man in the cell charged with murdering a man on the Embankment—I did not tell the constable to ask him if he had a knife on him—the prisoner asked me if I had a knife, and I said, "Yes"—I don't know that I have said that before.
Re-examined. I showed the pencil paper to the constable at Tulse Hill, and kept the ink paper till I was before the Magistrate—I handed the copy to Mr. Jackson—I had it to read from, to remind me of what I had to say, of what I wrote down in my book—when first asked if I had a knife, I said "No, "but I had it in my pocket all the time—I have never mentioned anything about the knife till now—it did not cross my mind.
The JURY here stated that in their opinion the evidence of this witness was not reliable, and MR. JUSTICE CHARLES being of opinion that without this evidence the case was not satisfactorily made out, the JURY found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
MARGARET WEBB . I am an ironer—on the early morning of 29th June I was sleeping on a seat on the Albert Embankment—I had thrown a handkerchief across my face, and was asleep—about three in the morning I felt something like a blow from a fist—I jumped up to see who it was, and I saw the prisoner walking away—I felt the blood running, and I called out" Stop that man"—I saw a woman, who I now know to be Elizabeth Ford, not far from me—the prisoner, when he had got up to her, put something in his pocket, and walked round by the side of the drinking-fountain—Mrs. Ford went after him, and then returned to where I was—I was standing up then—I told her what had happened—she called the police, and they assisted me to St. Thomas's Hospital—while I was going, my ear was bleeding very much—that continued till I got to the hospital—Mr. James attended to me there—I remained there till about twelve in the day, and then left—I was in the Infirmary for about a fortnight afterwards—during that time the wound was very painful—I was then discharged practically well—I had never seen the prisoner before that night—when I was awakened I think my handkerchief was thrown aside—I did not see it again.
Cross-examined. I am quite recovered now—it was daylight when this happened—I could see him walk away, and I could see Mrs. Ford plainly.
ELIZABETH FORD . I am the wife of Robert Ford, of 7, Fountain Court, Lambeth Walk—on the early morning of Saturday, 29th June, I was on the Albert Embankment going towards Westminster—I saw Margaret Webb asleep on a seat with a handkerchief on her face—I saw the prisoner walk down from the steps in front of the seat where Webb was lying—in about a second or so, he walked a step, took the handkerchief off her face with his left hand, and with the right hand gave her a blow—she stood up almost directly, and said, "Stop that man"—he was walking towards where I was—I went and sat on the seat—Webb continued to call out; I said, "What has he done to you?"—she did not answer—she said, "Stop that man"—the prisoner passed me towards Lambeth Bridge; he increased his walk as he came away from the girl—I spoke to him before he came opposite me, and said, "What have you done to the woman?"—he did not answer; he came direct in front of me; I said, "What have you done?"—he made a sort of pause, with his right hand in his pocket, in the act of pulling it out; then he passed on faster muttering something, and went round the fountain; I followed him—I saw two policemen, and spoke to them, and they went in pursuit of him up Palace Road, I stood there—he was at the place looking where the man was murdered—I went back to the girl, and saw no more of him till at the station—the girl was bleeding; she did not say what he had done; but I could see blood on her handkerchief and neck—I got assistance, and took her to the hospital as quickly as I could—that same morning I went to Kennington Road Police-station—I there saw eight or ten people—among them the prisoner, and picked him out.
Cross-examined. When he was going towards the girl he was walking rather quickly—the whole thing was done instantly—he stood about a second and looked at her—he then walked towards me—it was daylight—when I spoke to him he did not exactly make a stand, he paused—I noticed his face—he muttered something, I did not hear what he said—when I spoke to him he looked as if he would like to do something wrong; he had a ferocious look—after I followed him and spoke to the police I saw him stand at the spot where the man had been murdered, but the police went, and then he ran.
FREDERICK CHEESEMAN (Policeman L 83). On Saturday morning, 29th June, I was in Palace Road, just by the fountain on the Albert Embankment—about twenty minutes past three I was spoken to by a gentleman, in consequence I looked up and saw the prisoner walking sharply round the corner down on the hospital side—I watched him, and saw him get to about the door leading to to the medical school, he looked down at the pool of blood and then at me, and commenced to run away very fast—I, followed him into Palace Street—he was pursued by Police-constable Hess, who overtook him, he stumbled a little—when I came up I said, "He has stabbed a woman on the Embankment"—he made no answer then—on the road to the station he said, "You would not have caught me if I had known where I was going."
WALTER HESS Policeman L 49). I was in Palace Road, and joined in pursuit of the prisoner—he was running towards Palace Street—I got up to him first and caught him—immediately afterwards Cheeseman came
up and said he had stabbed a woman on the Embankment—he made no reply—on the way to the station he struggled with me and tried to get away—I got him to the station.
CHARLES HENRY COLLETT (Police Sergeant L 5). I was in charge of Kennington Road Police-station on the morning of 29th June, when the prisoner was brought in—I searched him and found this knife in his waistcoat pocket, shut; I opened the big blade and found blood on both sides, running down over the blade and one side of the handle—I said the large blade was smeared with blood—he made no reply; he had not been charged then—49 L said he had stabbed a woman on the Embankment—he made no reply.
JOHN JACKSON (Police Inspector L). On the morning of 29th June I went to Kennington Road Police-station and there saw the prisoner—Collett handed me this knife—I saw the condition of it; I saw blood on his left wristband—he explained that to me—I had him afterwards placed among eight or nine others, and he was identified by Mrs. Ford—after that I made a further search of his clothes, and among other things of his right boot, and a 2s. piece rolled out of it—he said, "I put it there so that I should not lose it."
Cross-examined. With regard to the blood on his shirt I made inquiry, and produced two witnesses who speak to that—his story about that was correct—I have made inquiries about him and except drink have found nothing against him—he has lost many situations through drink.
Re-examined. I have ascertained that he is very violent when in liquor, and especially when recovering from drink—I am not aware that any charge of assault has been made against him.
GEORGE FREDERICK FARRE . I was called to the station in the early morning of 29th June—I saw the knife; in my opinion it is such a knife as might have inflicted the wound on this woman's ear; its condition was consistent with its having been used for that purpose—I did not make any minute examination of the woman's wound.
Cross-examined. The prisoner appeared to have been drinking very much.
CHARLES HENRY JAMES . I attended the woman when brought to the hospital—the wound leading to the drum of the ear was a serious wound, not serious to life; there was a good deal of bleeding from it—she suffered severely from loss of blood—the knife is such as would have inflicted the wound.
MARY ANN BROOK . I have known the prisoner for some little time; I was in the same service as he was, with Mr. Tucker, a pawnbroker; he remained after I left—he left somewhere about August last year, and came for a few days as a lodger where I was in Webb's Row; he then took the business of a tobacco and sweet stuff shop; he parted with that after Christmas at the half-quarter—I went to live at 16, Norfolk Row, and he went to 24, Marchant Street—he used to come and have his meals with me from day to day—I saw him there on Friday, 28th June, for the last time—he came and had supper there; he was rather dejected—I asked him where he was going to sleep, and he said on a seat or form, or in a park somewhere—he said he had paid his last week's rent that he was able to do, and had pawned his overcoat that night—I asked what had become of his watch and chain—he said he had parted with it—he gave me the ticket of the overcoat, and asked me to take his keys—I told him
to put them down—he left me a few minutes before ten that night—he certainly had had a little to drink, but was not what I should call intoxicated—he was low-spirited before he had the drink, and when he left.
Cross-examined. He had been a drunkard occasionally—it was not a practice always, but now and then, it has been his failing—when I parted with him that night I thought he meant committing suicide—before this happened, I noticed a number of holes through a folded coat of his; he said he could not think what it was—I found other clothes in the same state, children's clothes—I don't think I spoke to him about that; he said he knew nothing whatever about it.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I don't remember anything about it."
GUILTY on Second Count. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. FULTON and GILL Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
After MR. FULTON had opened the case, the prisoners stated that they desired to PLEAD GUILTY, upon which the JURY found them
GUILTY . There were five other indictments against the prisoners for like offences upon other persons.
GEORGE DALE.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
AGNES DALE.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ATHERSTON BRAXTON HICKS . I am one of the Coroners for the County of London—on 16th July I held an inquest on the body of a child, named Lucretia Lydia Goodman—in the course of the inquiry the prisoner was called as a witness—he was present throughout the whole inquiry—he volunteered his evidence—he was sworn, and I cautioned him that whatever he said would be taken down in writing, and might be used in evidence against him—I took his evidence; it was read over to him, and he signed it—on 16th July my officer, Saxby, handed me this medicine bottle, marked A; "Best fluid magnesia" is on it—the word "fluid" is in ink or pencil—I took it to my office, and on 10th July handed it to my officer, John Mason, to take to Dr. Stevenson, who produced it at the adjourned inquest on 25th July—on 16th July I also received these three other bottles, B C and D—B contained sulphate of magnesia; that was by my orders taken from a bottle of Mr. Bartlett's by the inspector—C contained carbonate of magnesia, also taken from Mr. Bartlett's shop, as a sample—D was a bottle of fluid magnesia produced by Dr. Bartwell at the inquest from another chemist's; that was produced that the witness Partridge might be able to taste, to test whether the bottle A had the taste of ordinary fluid magnesia—a fifth bottle E was obtained by the inspector by my orders, as a specimen of the liquor potassæ from Mr. Bartlett's shop; that was taken to Dr. Stevenson to be tested—there was also a bottle containing nitric acid handed to me by Mason at the inquest, as having been given to Mrs. Partridge, called alum—here are also some towels, which were taken by Dr. Pitt, and a leather chair-cover which is more or less stained. (The evidence of the prisoner was read as follows;" I am
an occasional assistant to Mr. Bartlett, living at 143, High Street, Battersea—I was not brought up as a chemist; I am a pipe-rack manufacturer—I only assist Mr. Bartlett of an evening—I have apartments above his shop; I know the run of the shop fairly well—I remember serving Mrs. Partridge on Wednesday—I asked Mr. Bartlett the price; he said 3d.—as far as I can remember I served fluid magnesia; I do not know the difference between an acid and an alkali—I gave Mrs. Partridge the medicine about 9 p. m. on the 10th inst.—the gas was lighted in the shop; all four to the best of my belief; the lights over the carboys would give the most light—the plan produced is a fairly correct plan. ")
MR. HICKS. After the adjourned inquest I handed the two towels, the leather cover, the five bottles and the plan of the premises 141 and 143 to Inspector Attwell, who took charge of the case, and he gave me a receipt for the same.
JOHN ATTWELL (Police Inspector). On 16th July, after the inquest, I went with the prisoner and Mr. Bartlett to Mr. Bartlett's shop in High Street, Battersea—it is two shops knocked into one, 141 and 143—the shelf on which the bottles were kept was pointed out to me—this is a correct plan of the premises—there would be no difficulty in reaching that shelf by a man of ordinary height; it is about five feet high—opposite it are three gas-burners in the window, and one at a little counter, where the medicines are mixed—all the four burners would throw light on the shelf—I saw the three bottles on the shelf—the carbonate of magnesia and the sulphate are in light bottles, one slightly tinged with green—the liquor potassæ was in a darkish blue bottle, and smaller than the other two—the prisoner pointed to the bottle labelled "Liquid Magnesia," and said, "That is the bottle from which I firmly believe I took the medicine that was supplied"—I took a sample from each bottle, the carbonate, and sulphate, and subsequently I took all that remained of the liquor potassæ, and gave them to Dr. Stevenson, with the leather cover.
Cross-examined. It was in the evening when I went to the shop, and the three gaslights were lighted.
ELIZABETH PARTRIDGE . I am a monthly nurse, living at 90, Gwynn Road, Battersea—I nursed Mrs. Goodman in her confinement—on 10th July the baby, who had been christened Lucretia Lydia, was suffering from thrush—about nine that evening I went to Mr. Bartlett's shop—I saw the prisoner and Mr. Bartlett, and there was one woman there—I, asked for a pennyworth of fluid magnesia—the prisoner asked Mr. Bartlett what it was an ounce—he said "Threepence"—the prisoner said, "Will you take half an ounce?"—I said, "No; it is for a very young baby"—he asked if I had a bottle—I said, "No"—he then went and reached a bottle from a drawer in the lower part of the shop, and went round the counter, and put the fluid in it—I did not see him reach the bottle down—he came back to where I was standing, at the desk, put a label on the bottle, and wrote the word "Fluid" on it, and gave the bottle to me—I paid for it, and went away with it—that was as near as possible about a quarter to nine—I took the bottle home, and gave it to Mrs. Goodman—I went away that night—next morning, about 11, I was fetched to Mrs. Goodman—I found the child very pale, and vomiting blood and froth—its mouth was perfectly raw—I took the bottle off the chair; it was the bottle the
prisoner had given me—Mrs. Goodman told me something, and I tasted the contents; it blistered my lips and tongue; it tasted very acid, burning—I caught up the baby, and went off with the bottle to Mr. Bartlett—I saw Mr. Bartlett and spoke to him, and handed him the bottle; he tasted it, and spat it on the floor—he then went round the corner and brought a large bottle, and said, "That is the magnesia"—he said, "This is the stuff he ought to have given you"—he afterwards brought some liquid in a glass—in consequence of what he said to me, I tried to give some of it to the baby; she may have taken a little; I put it to her lips, but she flinched at it very much—I tasted it; it was very acid—Mr. Bartlett was standing alongside—he went back behind the partition where they mixed the medicine, and then he came back, bringing with him the bottle I had brought—I took it out of his hand—he asked me if he should change it—I said, "No, decidedly not"—I did not know that he had changed it—I took the bottle with me and the child to Mrs. Goodman—before I left, Mr. Bartlett gave me something like a little piece of alum, and told me to crush it in warm water, and give it to the baby in a little milk—I afterwards produced it to the Coroner—when I got back I did not taste the bottle again not till after I had taken the baby to Dr. Bartwell—he saw the child, and attended to it; it was still very bad and the mouth very raw—after I had been to Dr. Bartwell I tasted the stuff again; it was then perfectly tasteless; not the same stuff at all; not the same it was when I took it to Mr. Bartlett; it looked clearer than the first, but not quite clear—I went back to Dr. Bartwell, and told him that Mr. Bartlett had changed it—I never left the child till it died in my arms next afternoon at a quarter to three—I noticed that the leather of the chair from which I took the bottle was discoloured.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner again—I have been in the habit of frequently going to Mr. Bartlett's shop for nearly three years—I have seen the prisoner there constantly, helping in the shop.
SARAH GOODMAN . I am the wife of Henry Goodman, of 10, Unswick Road, Battersea—on the morning of 10th July my little child was suffering from thrush—I sent Mrs. Partridge for some medicine; she brought back a bottle, which she left with me—I kept it for the night—it was a small bottle, labelled "best magnesia," with "fluid' written over it—next morning, about eleven, I gave the child half a teaspoonful of it; she gasped for breath, I shook her, and she vomited blood and phlegm—I immediately sent for the nurse; and, when she came, we both tasted the contents of the bottle; I only put it to the tip of my tongue; it had an acid taste—I put it down on a leather covered chair; this is the cover; it is stained by the bottle that I placed on it, it was never stained before, and directly after I saw it it was—Mrs. Partridge took the child and the bottle to Mr. Bartlett—she afterwards brought the child and bottle back—I again tasted the contents of the bottle; it was not acid at all, it was very simple stuff, like water—the child continued in pain the whole day, and died next day; she never rallied.
GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL BARTLETT . (This witness was extremely deaf, and the Usher had to repeat his evidence.) I am a chemist, at 141 and 143, High Street, Battersea—in July this year the prisoner was lodging at my house; he now makes pipe-racks; that is not his general trade; he has been brought up in a steel pen manufactory—the arrangement was that his wife should be the housekeeper of
the house, and he should assist in the shop; that was considered in the rent, and they were to live there rent free—he gradually got on so well that he was able to serve anything except registered poisons; he was not allowed to serve any registered poisons; that had been going on for two or three years; he has been with me in the house five years—I do not remember Mrs. Partridge coming on the evening of the 10th, or any medicine being asked for; she came on the morning of the 11th with a child and a bottle; I tasted it, and at the time I thought it was sulphate of magnesia—I gave her some nitric acid, because it is an antidote to an alkali; sulphate of magnesia is an alkali; liquor potasss is an alkali; it contains 5 per cent. solution of hydrate of potassium; nothing else—it is not a poison; it is a caustic; it is taken internally; I should not think it would kill—I threw away some of the contents of the bottle which Mrs. Partridge brought, and then put in a quantity of carbonate of magnesia; I might have thrown all of it away; I did not wash the bottle out—I gave it back to Mrs. Partridge, and I gave her some nitric acid; that would be an antidote, as I thought, for the magnesia.
Cross-examined. I have not the original bottles here that were in the shop; during the five years the prisoner has been serving in the shop he has had considerable experience in giving out medicines; he is a man of very good education; I think he has invented some pipe-rack—my shop is much frequented in the evening; I have an apprentice who has been with me two years; the prisoner would not do any dispensing; I should do that—the liquor potasss and the magnesia are both colourless and without smell; the bottles on the shelf might be shifted; it is no part of a chemist's duty to taste medicines before sending them out—the prisoner has never made any mistake of any kind before.
Re-examined, The bottles on the shelf would have regular places, but in putting a bottle back you might put it in the wrong place; I don't know whether they were in their regular places on this night; I remember this particular night.
By the JURY. The prisoner is not addicted to intemperance in any way.
RICHARD HERBERT BARTWELL . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 147, High Street, Battersea—I attended Mrs. Goodman in her confinement—on the night of the 10th July the child was perfectly well—I saw it next at half-past eleven that night; it was then suffering from sickness and diarrhoea; it was in just such a condition as I should expect if it had a poisonous dose of liquor potasss—I prescribed for it and gave it a little mercury—I saw it again at nine o'clock on the morning of the 12th; it was in a rather lower condition—it died about three that day.
GEORGE MILTON PITT . I am demonstrator of morbid anatomy at Guy's Hospital—I made a post-mortem examination of the body of this child; there was no disease in any of the organs—the cause of death was some irritant poison—the appearances I saw were such as would be produced by such a dose of liquor potassæ—I could not otherwise account for death—it was undoubtedly due to an irritant.
THOMAS STEVENSON , M. D. I am one of the analysts to the Home Office—I have had all the bottles produced for analysis—A contained a small quantity of carbonate of potash and carbonate of magnesia in solution, and in the form of a deposit; it would correspond to about three drops of the
liquor potassæ in the pharmacopœia—I have heard the evidence of Mr. Bartlett—I rinsed out a bottle of liquor potassæ, poured it in, and then reproduced a precisely similar mixture—B contained sulphate of magnesia—C had fluid magnesia, and D also; that was a sample from another chemist's—E contained liquor potassæ; that is a solution of caustic potash or hydrate of potash of the British pharmacopœia; it is a corrosive and irritant poison when in its concentrated state, when highly diluted it is innocent, but when taken in a strong form it dissolves the mucous membrane of the tongue—I have heard the symptoms described of the child's death; I examined the organs; I have no doubt whatever that it died from the effects of the liquor potassæ—the magnesia would simply act as a purgative; it would not corrode the tissues—liquor potassæ is an alkali; sulphate of magnesia is not—I analysed some crystals that were given by Mr. Bartlett to Mrs. Partridge; they were citric acid, useful as an andidote for liquor potassæ and other alkalis, but in no sense an antidote for sulphate of magnesia; it would not have any effect on it—I have heard what Mr. Bartlett has said about it—I cannot understand his explanation, nor can I understand if a chemist tasted liquor potassæ how he could mistake it for the sulphate of magnesia; the two things are very distinct—nitric acid is an antidote for one, and is none for the other, the sulphate not being an alkali, the liquor potassæ would be dangerous to life—I have no doubt that it did kill; it has a very alight earthy smell, but it requires a skilled person to detect it.
Cross-examined. There were about three drops of liquor potassæ in the small quantity of liquid brought to me, which was a spoonful or two—it had been diluted more than 90 per cent., perhaps twenty or thirty times—it had no smell in that diluted condition—even when concentrated it is practically destitute of smell; it is colourless—I do not know of any obligation on a chemist to keep a qualified chemist for the purpose of selling medicines in his shop; for the sale of poisons there—liquor potassæ is not set out as a poison in the schedule to the Act—there was no organic disease in the child, except what was induced by the liquor potassæ, there was corrosion—bottle E contained undiluted liquor potassæ, which came from the prisoner's shop. The Prisoner received an excellent character.
MR. FULTON submitted that the evidence did not disclose such an amount of culpable negligence on the part of the Prisoner as would render him criminally responsible. He referred to the case of Tessimond, Lewin's Reports, p. 169, and Reg. v. Spencer, Foster, and Finlayson, 717.
MR. JUSTICE CHARLES said he must take the opinion of the JURY upon the facts, and in summing up he observed that it was very difficult to lay down in general terms the exact sort of negligence which would justify a verdict of manslaughter; they must be satisfied that in serving out this drug the prisoner was guilty of reckless, careless, culpable negligence, mere mistake would not do. The real question was, was this an innocent, excusable mistake, or was it a culpable blunder on the part of a man who, for a consideration, had taken on himself of an evening a responsible duty?
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. STEPHENSON MOORE Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
FREDERICK CORDERY . I live at 59, Felmore Road, Old Kent Road—on Monday, July 1st, I cashed a cheque for £15 7s.—my brother was with me—I gave him £6, and the remainder I had in my pocket—about three in the afternoon I went to the Duke of Clarence—I there saw the prisoner—I had known him about five or six months—there were one or two more with him—I treated them with a drop of beer at a public-house, and afterwards some tea at a coffee-house—I then got into a tram, and went to the Surrey Theatre—the prisoner went with me, and we met one or two more down there—that was about eight or half-past—I took the money out of my pocket, and paid for all—they could see me pay—they all knew that I had money—about nine we came out of the theatre, and had a drink, and then walked down Walworth way—the prisoner, his son, and one or two more were with me—the prisoner said, "Give me some money"—I said I would not—he said, "If you won't give me any, I will knock you down, and take it all from you"—he then knocked me down with his fist, and he drugged me—he gave me some stuff in a bottle, and put it into my mouth—I swallowed some of it, and I was insensible for ten hours—before I became insensible they cut my pocket out—I found myself in the hospital about eleven in the morning—I lost £4 10s. in gold in a silver case, and about 7s. in loose silver and coppers.
Cross-examined. This assault was committed after leaving the Surrey Theatre—we had several drinks first at one or two houses, and it was about eleven when I was assaulted—I spent about 11s.—I had some loose gold in my pocket besides the £4 10s.; I cannot remember how much—I do not know the other men, only by sight—there were four besides myself—they left the theatre with me, and went with me to two public-houses—I had one or two drops of gin—I was not drunk when the assault occurred; I could stand, and walk straight—they carried me down Portland Street, one by each arm—it was after I was knocked down that they drugged me; I was stunned by the fall—when I came to they opened my mouth and gave me the stuff—two of the men were there when I was knocked down, and one was at the top of the street watching; they were the same men I had paid for at the Surrey Theatre—I have never been in any trouble; I have been drunk at Dulwich, nothing serious—I am in employment now; I was not at the time this occurred—I had been out of work seven months—I had money left me by my father, and I received my money quarterly—all the chaps about Walworth knew that; I had received it three or four times; they were always watching me every time I drew my money.
THOMAS WILLIAM BELCHER . I am a painter, and live at 22, South Street, Walworth—on Tuesday morning, 2nd July, I was coming by Portland Terrace, and I happened to see the prosecutor knocked down—I waited for a moment or two, and saw the prisoner with the coin in his hand with a trousers pocket—I saw the prosecutor go round the corner of Trafalgar Street, and I saw him knocked down again—the prisoner said he intended to stop there until a policeman came," so as he could give him the money, as the money he had in his possession he took from another fellow—I did not notice whether he did so—I heard him say to the man who had knocked the prosecutor down, "Knock the b----down again"—the prosecutor got up and walked as far as the lamp-post in Trafalgar Street—he fell down, and some men
picked him up and sat him on a chair—he was lying on the footpath when the prisoner said, "Knock the b----down again—I did not see the prisoner make any attempt to stop the man who knocked the prosecutor down.
Cross-examined. There were two other fellows there—I was about ten yards from them—I was in sight—I was standing with a man named Withey—he is not here—it was one of the other men that knocked the prosecutor down; he got away—I did not hear the prisoner say, "Stop him"—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner said, "Stop until a policeman comes"—he was not speaking to me; he said it to anyone that was there—the prosecutor was lying on the ground at the time—the prisoner held the pocket openly—he might have got away if he liked. Re-examined The man that knocked the prosecutor down got away—I heard the prisoner say, "Knock the b----down," and also, "As I have taken the money from the man that knocked him down, I intend to stop here till the policeman comes"—the prosecutor was put in a cab and taken to the hospital—the prisoner was taken into custody in Rodney Street at the time.
WILLIAM SHEARD (Policeman F 583). In consequence of what I was told, about 11. 15 or quarter to 12 on the night of 1st July I went to Portland Terrace—I saw the prisoner standing among a crowd of people—he appeared to be very excited—I asked him what was the matter—he said that three men had been knocking his pal about, and robbing him—I asked him who is pal was; he said he did not know—I asked him where he was; he said he did not know—I asked him why he did not endeavour to arrest one of the men who had assaulted his pal—he said he had enough to do to look after the money—I then made inquiry of the people standing round as to where the prosecutor was; I was informed that he was lying in a garden some 250 yards away—I went there and found the prosecutor there lying insensible—the prisoner was with me—the prisoner was searched at the station and £4 18s. 7£d. was found on him—he had a sovereign purse in his hand at the time I came up, and that he dropped on the ground—I tried to get hold of it; as I did so he put up his hand in a manner of threatening, and said, "You won't touch that, it belongs to my pal"—I asked him to give me the money—he refused to do so—I took the prosecutor in a cab to Guy's Hospital—the prisoner was taken to the station by another constable.
Cross-examined. The prisoner also had the pocket containing 7s. 6d. in silver—he said, "I took them from the men who robbed and stabbed the man"—it looked like a stab; he had blood on his forehead, and was bleeding from the mouth, and he said, "He is a pal of mine, we had been together all the evening, and we had tea together."
BENJAMIN LEE (Police Sergeant). I searched the prisoner, and found on him this pocket; it appeared to have been cut out of something; also £4 10s. in gold, and 7s. in silver, and 1s. 3d. in bronze—he said, "The 7s. belongs to me"—when charged he said, "I am innocent."
Cross-examined. The £4 10s. was in the sovereign purse.
JOHN WEBB (Police Inspector). After the prisoner was searched I went to the top of Portland Terrace, and picked up this handkerchief and two small knives—the prosecutor identified the handkerchief as his.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner nothing is known against him.
ROBERT NETHERSOLE . I was house-surgeon at Guy's when the prosecutor was brought in about half-past one on the morning of 2nd July—he was quite insensible; he had a cut in the middle of his forehead and a bruise over his right eyebrow, and a cut on the upper lip, and there was a little bleeding from his nose—I thought the wounds were caused by several blows from a fist.
Cross-examined. He was unconscious for some hours—I don't think it was due to the injuries; I thought it was due to drink.
By the COURT. I could not find any evidence of the administration of any drug; if the drug, which he says was poured down his throat, was opium, I should have smelt it; it might have been something like chloral, then I should not—he did not complain to me next morning; he remained in the hospital two or three days; the injuries were not serious.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ROBERT HENRY KEMP . I am a type-writer, of 131, Queen's Road, Peckham—on 27th August, between 10 and 10. 30 p. m., I met Davis and went with her to the Reindeer public-house, Peckham, where we met Foulkes; we all three drank together, and went down Rye Lane—Foulkes put his arm round my neck, and said, "The left-hand part of his trousers, Bill"—I saw two men coming up the lane, who came up to me and took the left part of my trousers clean away; they cut it out—I had in that pocket a gold Albert, 10s. in a purse, and a silver match-box—after my pocket was cut out Carroll, Foulkes, and a man not in custody ran away—I gave chase, and captured Carroll about 200 yards from where he started—I had a struggle with him, and he struck me on my right eye—a constable came, and I gave him in custody—I gave a description of Foulkes, and afterwards identified him at Lambeth Police-court.
Cross-examined by Carroll. I lost 10s. 6d. or 11s.—I had no watch on my chain—I had about 30s. when I started; I cannot say how much I spent—I believe I gave the woman some money; I cannot say how much—my money was all in my left pocket, which was cut away with its contents—I saw no knife or scissors.
Cross-examined by Foulkes. I swear to you by your features—I saw you at Lambeth Police court two or three days afterwards.
HENRY CROFT (Policeman P 73). On 27th August I was on duty in High Street, Peckham, saw a crowd, and found Carroll on the ground, held down by Kemp, who said, "I give this man in custody for stealing my gold Albert"—I took him up from the ground—he said, "Search
me; I have not got his chain"—seeing that Kemp was bleeding from his right eye, I said to Carroll, "How do you account for that?"—he said, "I struck him there to try to get away"—Davis followed us thirty or forty yards towards the station, and left all of a sudden.
HENRY DICKSON (Policeman 138 C). On 12th September I saw Foulkes in Earl's Grove—I followed him to High Street, Peckham, and arrested him—I told him the charge, he said "All right"—when the charge was read to him he said, "I know nothing about it."
HENRY FITZGERALD (Policeman P 475). I took Davis on September 2nd, and told her it was for being concerned with Carroll and Foulkes in committing a larceny from the person—she said, "Carroll I do not know, and Foulkes I have not seen for the last twelve months." Carroll's Defence. These two prisoners are utter strangers to me, I was with a friend who is not in custody; as to robbing the man, I did nothing of the sort; there was a little squabble between the three of them, I ran out of the court and therefore I was followed; he did not catch me in the court, he took me in a turning where I could not get out; I struck the man in self-defence or he would have choked me.
Foulkes' Defence. I have been married eighteen months. I do not know what it is to be out after nine o'clock at night. I went home at half-past six or seven; I was not out afterwards.
CARROLL then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Romsey on 8th February, 1889.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
FOULKES— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
DAVIS— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
ALBERT HARDING . I keep the Dog and Star, Earl Street, Southwark—on August 27th, about 3.20 a. m., I heard a crashing of glass, looked out at the window, and called out, but got no answer—I went down and found the prisoner in the bar—I asked what he was doing—he said, "I have not done much harm; let me go"—he could have got through the broken window; the damage done to it was about £5—he had drank some port wine, and he said he approved of it.
MARK JENKINS (Policeman L 185). I went to the Dog and Star on this morning, and found the prisoner in the bar—a large square of plate glass was broken—he said, "I am not doing any harm; you will let me go, won't you?"—he had been drinking three half-quarterns of brandy and a pint of port.
Prisoner's Defence. I had too much to drink that day, and was robbed of my clothes, and money too; I think I must have gone mad.
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
MARY STEPHENSON . I am cook to Mr. Stanley, of 107, Denmark Road, Camberwell—on Saturday, July 27th, I shut up the house safely, and on Sunday morning I found someone had broken in by the larder window, which I had left safe the night before; an iron bar was removed from the wall—I missed some meat, butter, and jam from the larder, and from the pantry two silver sauce-ladles, a toast-rack, a plated teapot, a coffeepot, fifty-four dessert-spoons, twenty-three forks, a sugar-sifter, a picklefork, a coat, and a pair of boots, value altogether £10—I found this chisel, which does not belong to the house, in the kitchen—these things (produced) were all safe on the Saturday, and this pot of jam (produced) is similar to the one stolen, and by the same maker.
JAMES MAINE (Policeman G 197). On August 1st I went to a workshop in the rear of 7, Queen Street, Clerkenwell—the door was open, and no one was there—I examined a room above the workshop, and found all this property, and a pot of jam, similar to the one produced—on the morning of August 4th I went with Maroney to 7, Furnival Street, Holborn, found the prisoner there, and took him in custody on another charge—I have got a silver milk-jug and two silver candlesticks here, cut up into pieces—it is not necessary to cut up silver to re-burnish it—I found some molten metal in a crucible under the other things—the room was not used as a workshop—there were no benches; not even a stool.
STEPHEN MARONEY (Detective Officer G). On the morning of August 4th I took the prisoner at a common lodging-house, 24, Furnival Street, Holborn—I was with Maine—we took him to the station and showed him the property—I said, "These goods were found at your workshop, 7, Queen Street, Clerkenwell; they are the proceeds of a burglary which took place in Denmark Road, Camberwell, on the 28th of last month, and it is for you to give an account for how you became possessed of them"—he said, "I got them from a party to work on them, re-silver them, burnish and letter them"—I said, "Can you tell me who the party is?"—he said, "I shall not give you any account till I see my legal adviser"—I said, "It is for you to give an account"—he said, "I shall not give an account till I see the Magistrate; I will tell him"—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I did not see a box of jewellery there, I should like to find it very much—these goods were all loose on the floor—we took no saw or hammer away; they were not stolen property—I did not show them to you at Old Street Police-station, and I have not got them.
Prisoner's Defence. These things were given to me—my wife does the burnishing work; I have nothing to do with it—I have sold my business in Westminster, and only took this shop on the Monday—I could never have done these things cut up like that; and what the jam was sent for I don't know, and there was some butter—I met a man named Mears, who said, "I am just going round to your place; you take these things there, and I will come round as soon as possible"—I never stole the things, and nobody saw me near the place.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. BESLEY and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. MOYSES Defended.
JOSEPH GEORGE CLARK . I am usher at the Lambeth County-court—I was in Court on the second trial of Thomas Scully against the South Metropolitan Gas Company; I should not like to swear as to the first trial; I administered the oath to Scully; this is the original plaint, and this a copy; particulars of claim are dated 13th May; they claim for damages to cab and horse, and loss by illness of horse, £20 18s.—this is an affidavit for a new trial, in consequence of a policeman not being at the first trial—these are copies of the two judgments of 6th and 27th June, taken by me from the minute-book.
Cross-examined. The first trial lasted till 6 p. m., and the second till very late; a great deal of evidence was given on the second trial by the gas company about the purchase of the horse at Aldridge's; a clerk was called from Aldridge' s, with books, to show the horse had been sold to Scully for four guineas; Scully said he bought the horse some time before the first trial; I fancy something was said about a black horse he had had as well as about this chestnut mare—the first trial was on the 6th of June, and on the 20th of June a new trial was granted by the Judge, on an affidavit made by the defendants that a police constable had not turned up as a witness, I think it was—the new trial came on on 27th June—Mr. Howard was called on the first trial, not on the second—on the second trial the gas company called five or six witnesses they had not called on the first trial—some question arose about Mr. Howard being called after he had been in Court the whole time, although the witnesses had been ordered out; he said he did not anticipate that he would be called, and I believe he was only called on account of a particular question that arose—the verdict on the second occasion was for £25—there was another application by the gas company for a second new trial, and the Judge was then told the company had taken proceedings for perjury against the prisoner, and they were then pending in the Police-court, notwithstanding that the Judge refused a new trial the second time—our Judge never directs criminal proceedings; he has power to—I often find diverse swearing to an amazing extent in our court—I think the Judge said as the case was coming into the High Court he must apply to the Judge there for stay of execution—I know nothing of any application to Mr. Justice Wills, or of his refusal—I saw Mr. Price, a veterinary surgeon, at the first trial; I don't remember his giving evidence; another veterinary surgeon did—the question of the value of the mare was put to him—I don't remember his saying the horse was worth £20 or £25—I don't remember Mr. Price being called at the second trial.
Re-examined. These are the Judge's notes of the first and second trials (These were partly read).
By MR. MOYSES. At each trial the company had a cloth tracing, showing the lamp and stone—I cannot remember what Tracy said.
By MR. BESLEY. I think Constable Sharp said the stone was not so upright; it was more lying in the road.
ALFRED MURE LANE . I am clerk to Messrs. Hicklin, Washington, and Passmore, solicitors to the South Metropolitan Gas Company, Trinity Square—I produce the letters referred to in the Judge's notes, addressed to the secretary of the company by Mr. Boardman (This letter applied for damaged for injury to a horse and cab)—I also produce a letter addressed to Mr. Brown, of 4th May (This said the amount of the claim was£20 18s.)—after that the matter came into our hands—this was the original plaint served on the gas company, and sent on to us on 27th May to defend the action—I was present at both actions—I heard Scully make statements on his oath with regard to the chestnut mare—he said he had given twenty guineas for it—he was asked if it was not a mare he had bought for £4 4s. at Aldridge's—he said that was not the mare he bought for £4 4s.—at the second trial he said he had bought two, in his own name; one for £4 4s., and the chestnut mare for £20.
Cross-examined. This matter has been going on for a great many months—I was not present at the motion in the High Court to retain the money in Court—I have heard it was dismissed with costs—there was an application at the County-court to stay—I have been about six years with Messrs. Washington; their office is near Mr. Boardman's—at the end of the second trial the Jury came into Court a little after eight, I think—I, with others, of whom Mr. Howard was one, swore an information against the prisoner to get proceedings instituted—Mr. Howard has been instructing me for the gas company—at the first trial he did not leave the Court, I believe, although witnesses were ordered out—at the second trial two witnesses were not called who were called on the first trial; and we called two or three other witnesses—we got the second trial on an affidavit with reference to the non-attendance of a constable—on the second trial evidence was called to prove the prisoner bought the horse at Aldridge's for £4 4s.—we had an official from Aldridge's, with his books, and notwithstanding that the Jury found again for the plaintiff—the first Jury found £36, which the Judge reduced to £31—I do not think the chief element of damages in the plaintiff's claim was the loss of earnings at 12s. a day—on the second trial the claim for loss of services of the horse was still an item—the Jury returned a verdict for £25 on the second trial—Tracy was called for the defendants, and swore, I believe, the stone was not against the lamp-post, as the officer says—other witnesses for the company had sworn that the stone was against the lamp-post when they left it the previous night.
Re-examined. On the first trial it was not known that the chestnut horse had been bought for £4 4s.—at the second trial the constables were called who were on the beat, and a plan was used, showing the position of the stone against the lamp-post—Tracy said the stone was not touching the lamp at all, but two or three inches from it, and the other men said it was against the lamp—Price was not called because he was not there till the day after—when the application was made to stay execution the County-court Judge said as the case was in the High Court, the matter had better go there.
MR. MOYSES. Mr. Price said the mare was very valuable at one time.
1888, I sold her to Mr. Hughes for £6, because she was a bad starter in harness, and would not pull a cab when we wanted her to—she began kicking a bit, and it formed a kind of quitter—there was a scar on the hind leg, and a splint on the off fore leg under the knee—after selling her to Mr. Hughes I next saw her at this Court about a month ago—I recognised her as the mare I had had—the off fore leg was a very good leg.
Cross-examined. I was not examined at the Police-court—I have been subpœnaed—I had the mare between two and three years—she did not look worth half the money in July that she did when I sold her.
ALFRED HUGHES . I am a fly proprietor, my stables are at 15, Henniker Mews, Fulham Road—on 7th May last year I bought a horse from Mr. Morris for £6—I kept her six or seven days and sold her to Mr. Jeffreys for £4—the day before I was examined at the Police-court I saw the mare again at Eltham, at grass—to the best of my belief she is the same mare.
Cross-examined. I don't buy horses to resell, but to work them—I had other horses at the same time.
Re-examined. This animal I sold to Mr. Jeffreys was a chestnut mare, and the same that I bought of Mr. Morris.
SAMUEL WILLIAM JEFFREYS . I am a cab proprietor, of 63, Upper Mare Street, Chelsea—on 14th May, 1888, I bought a chestnut mare from the last witness for £4—I sent her away the same day to Aldridge's, St. Martin's Lane, for sale—Aldridge accounted to me for £4 4s., the price of her—I went with Mr. Moore, of the Gas Company, to Mr. Fenn, Eltham, in July, where I saw the mare.
Cross-examined. She was sold at Aldridge's on 16th May—she was no good to me—I keep two horses—I do not know the prisoner; men often buy horses on commission at Aldridge's—I don't know if they give the names of other persons.
Re-examined. It was the same horse I got from Hughes.
HENRY GOODBURN . I am an auctioneer at Aldridge's—on 16th May, 1888, I acted as auctioneer for horses and other things in this catalogue—item 194 describes a chestnut mare sold by me on that day for four guineas—behind me a sale clerk sits, who enters the price bid for the horse, and the name of the purchaser—I made this entry in my own catalogue.
Cross-examined. Sometimes people buy on commission, and use the name of someone else.
RICHARD RINGROSE . I am a clerk at Aldridge's, St. Martin's Lane—on 16th May, 1888, I acted as sale clerk, and entered particulars of the horses sold by Mr. Goodburn in the book kept by me—I have here the entry on that date, "Lot 194, the owner was F. W. Jeffreys, who sold a chestnut mare without reserve and without warranty; it was bought by a man named Scully for £4 4s., and he paid £4 4s. for it"—I did not attend at the Police-court, but my fellow clerk was called by the prosecution to give similar evidence.
WILLIAM MOORE . I live at 709A, Old Kent Road, and am an inspector of the South Metropolitan Gas Company—on 22nd February I heard of an accident to the prisoner's horse, and went with him to his stable, and saw a chestnut mare there—I next saw the mare outside the County-court, Camberwell New Road, and then at this Court last Sessions on 27th June—on 18th July I went with Inspector McLeod to Eltham, where I saw the mare out at grass—Jeffreys went with me, and in my presence recognised the mare.
Cross-examined. I was a witness at the County-court on behalf of the gas company in the second trial, not in the first—Mr. Howard is chief inspector—he has had charge of the case from the beginning—I joined him in swearing an information at the Police-court—he is in Court—he did not go out when witnesses were asked to go out.
FREDERICK MCLEOD . I am one of the inspectors of the South Metropolitan Gas Company—I was one of the witnesses at the first trial—I went with Howard to see the plaintiff before the matter was in the hands of the solicitor—he said the stone lay in the middle of the road—I was present at Eltham when Jeffreys was shown the mare, and in the Courtyard here in July, when Morris was shown the chestnut mare.
Cross-examined. Mr. Howard is chief of our department—I was in attendance at the Police-court, but was not called.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. One Month Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
DAVIS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
ALBERT RICHARDSON . I am barman at the Hand and Flower, Union Street, Borough—on 15th August the three prisoners came in with a woman who is not in custody—Davis called for a pint of ale and gave me a shilling; I gave him change, a sixpence and twopence, and put the shilling on a tray—after they had drank it, Davis called for more ale, and gave me another shilling—I gave him the change, and they all drank of the ale—Davis then called for a quartern of rum, which came to fivepence; he gave me a shilling—I put it on the tray and gave him a sixpence and a penny change—they left about ten minutes afterwards—the manager called my attention to the three shillings on the tray—they were all bad—he took them.
HENRY EDWARD WISSON . I am manager at the Hand and Flower—I saw the prisoners there with another woman, and noticed three shillings on the tray—I examined them, they were bad—the prisoners then left—I followed them and spoke to a constable; they went into the King of Prussia, and I went in and said I should give them in charge for passing three counterfeit shillings—they said nothing—Jackson was very violent going to the station, and kicked the constable on his stomach, and struck me on my forehead—I saw him drop 1s. from his mouth, and then a second; the constable picked that up—I picked up the other, and gave it to Hall—Dean struggled very violently to liberate the man—I struck Jackson after he struck me; I do not know where.
Cross-examined by Jackson. Dean was close to you when the coins came out of your mouth, and she tried to pick one up—she did not drop it—you were neither drunk nor sober; you could walk straight—I caught hold of you when you kicked the constable.
WILLIAM JOHN WARREN . I am barman at the King of Prussia, and was serving when the three prisoners came in, with another woman—Davis called for some drink, and tendered a bad shilling—I bent it, and gave it back to him—he said, "I would not have tendered it if I had known it was bad," and gave me a sixpence—the others were close by
then—Wisson then came in with two constables, and took Jackson and Davis—I followed to the station some distance behind, and did not see what took place—I bent the shilling slightly at the edge—this is it (produced).
WILLIAM SMITH (Policeman 79). Wisson spoke to me, and I stationed myself outside the King of Prussia, and sent for assistance—I then entered with Wisson, and found the prisoners and another woman there—Wisson charged Jackson and Davis with passing three counterfeit shillings just previously—I took hold of Jackson—he said, "Is this on the strength of my ticket?"—the barman said, "This man has attempted to pass a counterfeit shilling, which I have returned to him"—I attempted to search Jackson; he became very violent, and struggled with me towards the door, and threw me on my back outside, at the same time dropping two counterfeit shillings from his mouth—I threw him, and picked up one shilling, Mr. Wisson picked up the other, and handed it to me—when I was searching Davis at the station Jackson said to him, "I hope to Christ you have got nothing on you, they have collared all I have got"—I took that down—on Davis I found this counterfeit shilling, slightly bent, three good sixpences, and sevenpence—I received these three bad shillings from the manager—when we got to the station Jackson had lost his hat, and Dean was brought in with a hat in her hand—Jackson said, "Give me that hat"—Jackson kicked me on my stomach, and broke away from me, and jumped on a cart; I tried to get up on it, and he made several blows at me, but I got in and held him, and told the driver to drive to the station—when Jackson heard that he threw me out of the cart, and ran away—I pursued him, and caught him—he had no hat on then.
Cross-examined by Jackson. You had been drinking, but were not drunk—I struck you in self-defence after you had thrown me several times very violently.
JOHN STAMP (Policeman M 54). Between seven and eight o'clock on this evening I met Dean carrying a man's hat—I asked her who it belonged to, and she said, "My husband"—I said, "Where is your husband?"—she said, "At home"—I said, "Where is your home?"—she hesitated—I saw that the hat was covered with mud, and told her I should take her in custody—she said, "Don't lock me up; I have done nothing; I did not pass any bad money"—I took her to the station, and Jackson claimed the hat—on the remand, on 21st August, Davis said to Dean, "I wish you had been miles off; you must have been a b----fool to follow us to the station with the snide," meaning the counterfeit coin.
GEORGE HALL (Policeman M 58). I was called to the King of Prussia, and took Davis—I told the prosecutor to walk behind, and see that he did not drop anything—I saw him wrestling with Jackson, and heard a coin drop—I called to the prosecutor to pick it up, but a constable did so—Dean rushed from the crowd, and tried to get hold of it—in another minute another shilling fell, which the prosecutor picked up, and handed to me.
MARGARETTA BEST . I am female searcher at Southwark Police-station—on 15th August I searched Dean, and found nine single bad shillings, a sixpence, fourpence-halfpenny, a pawn-ticket, and a purse that contained one shilling and sixpence in good money—the nine bad shillings were loose with the halfpence—she asked me to take care of it.
WILLIAM "WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these fifteen shillings are bad—the three passed at the first public-house are bad, and two of them are from the same mould as most of the coins found on the prisoners—the greater part are from the same mould as those found on Dean—the bent shilling is from the same mould as the others, and also the two shillings which Jackson dropped—there are four dates, and all the coins of the same date are from the same mould.
Dean, in her statement before the Magistrate, and in her defence, said that Davis put the money into her pocket, and she was not aware it was bad.
Jackson's Defence. I had been out for a spree, and was three-parts drunk; nothing was found on me at the station, and I deny dropping the coin; I had none about me.
JACKSON, GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
DAVIS**— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
DEAN, GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. FRITH Defended.
ALICE DEAR . I am barmaid at the William the Fourth, South Streatham—on August 2nd I served Mills with lemonade and bitter—he gave me a florin—I tried it with my teeth, found it bad, and took it to Mr. Gibbs, the landlord—he came and stood at the bar-parlour door, and I took it to Mills, and said, "This is bad"—he said, "Is it?"—I returned it to him, and he paid me with a good half-crown, and I gave him the change—he then had something else, and paid with good money, and left—my teeth made a mark in it.
GEORGE GIBBS . I keep the William the Fourth, South Streatham—on 2nd August my barmaid brought me a bad florin to the bar parlour—I gave it back to her, went into the bar, and saw Mills there—he remained from seven to ten minutes, and left—I followed him about quarter of a mile—he passed Hart first, but joined him after he got out of sight of my house—they went on together, and I followed them—Hart went on to the common, and Mills went into a grocer's shop at the corner of Streatham Common, Mr. Rutland's—Mills came out, and went to Hart on the common—I spoke to Mr. Jones in a cart, who drove ahead of them—I came up with them another half-mile from there; they were then standing still, and I spoke to a policeman, who took one in charge, and Jones took the other—Hart was leaning against some railings, and I saw him pass some brown paper through the railings on to the Green; I picked it up, and found these two bad florins screwed up in it—I took them to the station, and gave them to the inspector.
STEPHEN JONES . I am a chimney-sweep, of 61, Danbrook-row, Streatham—on the evening of August 2nd I was out with a horse and cart; Gibbs spoke to me, and I saw the prisoners walking up the road together—I drove past them, and spoke to a policeman, and then waited for them—they parted at Streatham Railway Station, but just by the church they came together again; Mills went by the shops—I stopped Hart, and handed him to a constable—he dropped a piece of brown paper through some rails, which Gibbs picked up—I handed him over to Rook.
Mills came in, smoking a cigarette—he asked for a quarter of a pound of 2s. tea, and gave me a half-crown—I dropped it on the counter first, and then picked it up and put my thumb on it—I was rather dubious about it, but put it in the till, and gave him the change—as he went out he turned and looked at me, and then I examined it again, put it back in the till, and Mr. Rutland cleared it into his pocket, and I afterwards saw him put this cross on it, and give it to a constable—this is it, and this is the tea—it has my employer's name on it.
Cross-examined. I think I was rather dubious at the Police-court about this being the half-crown, and at the station I picked out another young man not the prisoner—I was dubious then—I said I thought he was the young man—he was very much like Mills—the inspector told me I was wrong, and afterwards at a fresh place, not at Streatham, I picked out Mills—he was not dressed in the same way then as the man who came into the shop—we were very busy, and it was as much as we could do to serve people—we may have sold a good many quarter pounds of tea that day, all of the same appearance as this—I cannot swear this is the half-crown.
THOMAS BETTS RUTLAND . On the evening of August 2nd I was in my shop and saw Fennell serve a man, who I cannot recognise, with some tea—Fennell bounced a half-crown on the counter and went back to the till a second time, and then I took it and bounced it—I thought it was all right as it rang—I put it in the till, or he did—about half-anhour after that I cleared the till, and put the money with other money in my right waistcoat pocket—the coin was picked out half-an-hour afterwards and given to the constable—I had no money in that pocket but what I had cleared from the till—there were other half-crowns there besides this, and I cannot say whether this is the same—I marked it with these two crosses before I gave it to the constable—I bounced most of the other half-crowns, and they seemed all right.
Cross-examined. It is impossible for me to say whether this is the half-crown which Fennell took.
ANNIE ELIZABETH CLAPP . My husband keeps a stationer's shop at London Road, Croydon—on 2nd August I sold Mills a purse, price sixpence halfpenny—he gave me a half-crown and a halfpenny, and I gave him a florin—I put the half-crown in the stamp-drawer; I had another half-crown there—on 6th August a policeman came, and I went to the stamp-till, took out the same half-crown, and gave it to him—it had remained there till then, and I had not put any other half-crown there—he marked it—this is it—this (produced) is a purse of the same description as I sold.
Cross-examined. Mills was placed with five or six others, and I picked him out—the constable had told me he had got the man in custody—I had told him it was a fair man—there was another fair man standing, next to Mills very similar to him—I looked at him two or three times, but I was not in doubt—I looked at them all.
CHARLES SUTTON (Policeman W 437). On the evening of August 2nd I was on duty in Streatham, and Jones pointed out both the prisoners to me—I told Mills that the gentleman was going to charge him with trying to pass bad money—he said, "What do you want me for?"—I said, "This gentleman will tell you at the station"—I searched him at the station, and found two half-crowns and sixpence, good money—Hart was taken by
Jones—I heard him charged at the station, and saw him put a postal order behind a chest in the charge-room—I took it up and said, "What game do you call this?"—he said, "Oh, dear," and sat down on the seat.
WILLIAM ROOK (Policeman W 359). I met Jones with Hart, and received Hart into my custody—the charge was stated in his hearing; he said nothing—I searched him at the station, and found 22 shillings, eleven sixpences, twenty pence, five halfpence and a threepenny-piece loose in his trouser's pocket; also this packet of tea, purse, necktie, brush, and a pocket-book, all new.
GUILTY of the uttering. — Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. FRITH Defended.
ELIZABETH RUGG . My father keeps the Duke of Edinburgh, Great Suffolk Street, Borough—on August 20th I served the prisoner with a lemon, price twopence—he gave me a half-crown—I bit it; my teeth went into it, and I said, "It is a bad one"—he said, "Is it? give it to me back and I will give you another, and take it where I got it from"—I said, "No"—I called my father, and the prisoner was given in custody—this is the coin (produced).
Cross-examined. I was only gone a minute to find my father, and when I came back the prisoner was still there, and also when the policeman came, a few minutes afterwards.
WILLIAM RUGG . My daughter called my attention to the prisoner, and showed me this half-a-crown—I told the prisoner it was bad—he said, "Is it? I don't think it is"—I sent the potman for a constable, who took him away.
Cross-examined. I was on the same side of the bar as he was—he also told the constable he did not think it was bad.
JOHN DAVIS (Policeman M 385). I took the prisoner and received this half-a-crown—he said he did not know it was bad—I searched him in the house, and found a shilling, three sixpences, and elevenpence—on the way to the station he said, "I tendered a half-sovereign at London Bridge yesterday in payment for two tickets for the Crystal Palace, and had the half-a-crown in change, "but at the station he said, "I had it in some change at the Crystal Palace"—the Inspector asked him why he tendered a half-crown when he had smaller change; he said, "I wanted to get rid of it"—he said, in answer to the charge," I did not know it was bad"—he gave his address, 32, St. Margaret's Court, High Street, Borough.
Cross-examined. That address was correct—I have got down the words, "I wanted to get rid of it"—the inspector is not here.
THOMAS DEVAL (Detective Sergeant M). I went to 32, St. Margaret's Court, Borough, and in a yard at the rear of the house I found in a hole in the wall, in a recess between a dustbin and a cistern, five counterfeit half-crowns of 1881, separately wrapped in one piece of tissue paper, in a tobacco pouch—it was difficult to get to the hole—one of the coins uttered is of the same date—I told the prisoner I had found the coin she said, "I know nothing about them"—it is his father's house.
Cross-examined. It is not a detached house—I will not swear that two families do not live there, but I was told there is only one—it is a secret place, but persons could go there—there is one family besides the prisoner's, and there may be two—there are fifty houses in the court—all the persons in the row could not get to the yard unless they were let through by the tenants.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has lived there with his father eight years on and off; two families live there; me and my aunt are one family, and the prisoner's father and three daughters and two boys, who are the prisoner's brothers, and an aunt, are the other family; seven or eight altogether live in the house, and any of them have access to the yard; besides that there are fifty-eight houses in the court, and if the door was open persons could come in; it opens with a key, but it may be open sometimes—I am out in the daytime at work—the prisoner is a grocer's assistant; I have never known anything against his character.
Re-examined. His brothers are younger than himself; I go to work at 7 a. m.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This half-crown is counterfeit, and so are these five found in the yard, and one of them is from the same mould as the one uttered; they are wrapped in the usual manner, to be taken out one by one.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
JOHN CHARLES FLOATE . I am manager of the Northumberland Arms, Walworth—on Sunday, September 1st, about 10. 30 p. m., the prisoner came and asked for change for a sovereign for Mrs. Nelson—I did not know Mrs. Nelson; I took the coin from him, and saw that it was a Hanoverian medal—I said, "Go away, do not bother me; you know it is no good"—I let him have it back—about three minutes afterwards my barman spoke to me and showed me this coin—I went to where the prisoner still was, and said, "You have just tried it on with me; where did you get this from?"—he said, "From Mrs. Nelson; do not think I have nicked it; you know it is good; Mrs. Nelson sent me to get change for it"—I gave him in charge; he was sober.
SAMUEL BERRINGTON . I am barman at the Northumberland Anns—on Sunday night at 10. 30 the prisoner asked me to give him change for a sovereign, and gave me this Hanoverian medal—I spoke to the manager, who gave him in charge—he said to some of the customers," Do you think I have nicked it?"
BENJAMIN LEEK (Police Sergeant P). I took the prisoner—he said nothing at the time, but afterwards he said, "I picked it up outside the house"—nothing was found on him—he said nothing to me about Mrs. Nelson.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . This coin is commonly known as a Hanover jetton; they were originally struck at the Queen's accession—1837 is on them, and "To Hanover," on account of the Queen not being able to
succeed by the Salic law—they were afterwards used for card-counters, but an Act was passed prohibiting their sale.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am very sorry, Sir; it will never occur again."
Prisoner's Defence. One boy saw me pick it up, Thomas Gutteridge. I never said Mrs. Nelson gave it to me. I told the barman I picked it up outside the Nelson public-house.
The COMMON SERJEANT left it to the JURY to say whether the coin resembled a sovereign.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MOORE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HENRY NEWMAN . I live at 110, Westmoreland Road, Walworth, and am salesman and general manager to Robert Willis, at the West London Cycle Stores, Wells Street, Oxford Street—on 26th August Davis came by himself, and said he wanted a tandem tricycle for a few hours—I said, "We don't let them out like that; we only care to let them out for the day"—he said, "Well, I know Mr. Stead; you let Mr. Stead have them"—I said, "Yes, he is a good customer of ours, and we don't mind obliging him"—he said Mr. Stead had recommended him to come to us, as we would very likely let him have a machine on his recommendation—I thought it over a few minutes, and said, "Very well"—he said he would bring Mr. Stead's card to prove he came from him, and he went away—one or two hours afterwards I came in, and found the prisoners there—they took the tricycle away with them—I next saw the tricycle in the hands of the police on the following Monday, I think—the machine was a Hillman, Herbert, and Cooper's "Premier, "value £20—I identified it in the Police-court yard.
Cross-examined by Davis. You said you could get Mr. Stead's card, and your friend went and fetched it—you paid 5s. for the hire of the machine—you signed our hire-book," John Simpson, 15, Baker Street"; I was not then present.
Cross-examined by Brett. I cannot say I saw you go out of the stores with the tricycle—I saw you come with Davis for it, but we did not notice who rode it away.
WILLIAM PATMORE . I am a bicycle manufacturer, living at Pelham Road, Wimbledon—on Monday, 26th August, the prisoners came to me about six p. m. with a tricycle—Brett remained outside; Davis came in, and asked me to buy the machine outside—I went outside, and looked at it—I asked Davis how long he had had it, and where he got it from—he said he had bought it at Wolverhampton, the place where he lived—I said, "Have you got a receipt for it?"—he said, "No, we don't carry receipts with us when we are on tour; we have just ridden up from Wolverhampton"—I considered his answers unsatisfactory—I asked him if he had any objection to my trying the machine—he said he did not
mind if I should not be very long—I said, "No, it will not take me long to try it"—I rode it to the police-station, and brought back a detective—Brett stood aloof, and said nothing—I left them both outside when I rode away; I found them at different corners of the street watching my return—I then referred them to the detective to do business with him, and after a conversation they accompanied him to the station.
Cross-examined by Davis. You were standing outside ten minutes before you came in—I looked through a crack in my door—it was your suspicious manner that led me to take the steps I did—you did not say," I have a machine outside; I want to know what it is worth"—you said you wanted to sell it; you asked me to buy it—I did not say I would give you £10 for it—I pressed you to name your price, but you would not—I said, "I cannot be buyer and seller too; mention your price, and I will see if I can do business, "so after some hesitation you said, "Will you give me £10 for it?"—I said the machine was knocked about; it was hardly worth that—you said, "I am not particular about selling it; if you will lend me £5 on it that will do as well; I will pay you good interest for the money"—I said, "I am not a pawnbroker, and therefore I cannot lend you the money"—I did not offer you £10 for the machine—I made the excuse of going for money to send a lad for a constable—I had money in my pocket if I had wanted it—I was away about eight minutes, and came back with the detective—you said to the detective you had offered it to me for £10, but if he liked to buy it quick he could have it for £9—I might have asked you if you knew the number of the machine.
ROBERT WILLIAMSON (Detective V). I received information from the last witness, in consequence of which I went to Pelham Road, and saw the two prisoners outside Patmore's manufactory—Patmore said, "This is the gentleman who will buy the machine"—I said, "Yes, I want one,' or something to that effect; "what is the price of it?"—Davis said it was worth £25—Brett was standing alongside—Davis said, "I have offered it to this gentleman for £10; I will take £9 for it"—I said, "How is it you want to sell it?"—he said, "I have lost my purse in London"—I said, "Have you the receipt for it?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Where have you come from?"—he said, "Wolverhampton"—I said, "It is rather strange you have not a receipt of this machine"—he said, "No, we don't generally carry receipts when we go out on tours; I rode up with a friend from Wolverhampton, and he has gone to Scotland; and I am going to meet him in London within a week or two"—I told him I was a detective officer, and he would have to go down to the station to give a satisfactory account of the machine to the inspector—Brett gave the name of Smith—Davis said, "I met Smith last night in a coffee-house in Oxford Street"—I said, "What has Smith got to do with it?"—Davis said Smith said he was out of work, and would he accompany him for a ride on a tricycle, and he said he Would, and that was all he knew about it—I took them both to the station; they were charged there with unlawful possession—Davis was asked his address, and said Wolverhampton—Brett gave his address as the Old Kent Road, Walworth.
Cross-examined by Davis. Patmore did not say, "I can have it for £10, but I expect you can have it for £9"—you did not know the number of the machine.
The Prisoner's, in their defence, said they never offered the machine for sale, but merely asked the price, to settle a dispute between them as to its value.
ROBERT WILLIAMSON (Re-examined by Davis). You gave me several references: I found you had been at John Lewis's, Oxford Street, about six months as shop-walker; you were discharged for not paying your landlady—you were also at Peter Robinson's and at Hitchcock and Williams'.
NOT GUILTY .
RICHARD ARUNDEL JEWELL . I am a builder, of 30, North Street, Wandsworth; I bank at the Wandsworth branch of the London and South Western Bank—on or about 2nd August I received this letter, dated 2nd August, from C. H. Ritson, asking for price of deal boards; I replied to it, signing my letter in reply with my usual signature, "R. A. Jewell"—I never heard any more of the deal boards nor of Mr. Ritson till he was in custody; I never saw this bill of exchange for £73 16s. 9d. before it came back from the bank to me; it is not accepted by me; I did not authorise anyone to accept this or any other—it is a very good imitation of my signature.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is not unusual to have a letter asking for prices, and never to hear anything more.
EDGAR WONTNER ALLEN . I am a member of the firm of Morgan, Gellibrand, and Company, of 1, St. Helen's Place; I know nothing of this bill, which purports to be drawn by me on Mr. Jewell; it was not drawn nor authorised by my firm—I know nothing of Mr. Jewell; I never had any business with him in my recollection—I know nothing of the prisoner—the signature, "Morgan, Gellibrand, and Company," is not in the least an imitation of the signature of my firm.
GEORGE JOHN SQUIRES . I am cashier of the Wandsworth branch of the London and South Western Bank—on 7th August this bill for £73 16s. 9d. was presented to me over the counter for payment—I recognised the name of the acceptor as that of a customer—I believed it was his signature; it is a good imitation of it, and I paid the bill with these £50 and £20 notes, and gold—I don't recognise the person who presented the bill.
Cross-examined. Mr. Jewell said at the Police-court he had never accepted a bill payable at our or any other bank—I did not pay particular attention to the bill on that account—I cannot identify anyone—I do not identify you in any way.
Re-examined. I should not know anybody who did present it.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am note-inspector, Bank of England—I produce these two notes for £50 and £20, which were cashed at the Bank of England on 7th August in the ordinary course—the person cashing them wrote the name and address: George Morgan, 36, Carlton Road, Tufnell Park, on them—I did not cash the notes myself.
WILLIAM BUSHNELL . I live at 40, Este Road, Clapham Junction—the prisoner lived at my place for about a fortnight after Easter till about a fortnight before the time of his arrest, about the 2nd August—his wife
and family lived there with him—he was not always there; he came home occasionally—he would stay for two or three days and go away.
Cross-examined. I did not know you intended leaving me as soon as you could find a suitable house, or that your wife wished to find a house where she could carry on her business—you have made no alteration in your appearance since I have known you.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have had forty-five years experience in the study of handwriting—I have had submitted to me the letter dated 1st August, signed C. H. Ritson, and the bill of exchange for £73 16s. 9d.—I say they are decidedly written by the same person; the person who wrote the letter filled in the body of the bill and signed the acceptance—I can point out similarities—the signature of the acceptance is an imitation of Mr. Jewell's writing; it is a disguised writing—the body of the acceptance is not an imitation—the name Morgan on the back of the bank notes is written by the same person who wrote the letter, I believe.
Cross-examined. I have not compared the bill with any other writing except yours.
DANIEL BROWN (Detective Sergeant, Scotland Yard). I and Brenner arrested the prisoner at Wimbledon on 5th September—I said, "Is your name C. H. Ritson?"—he said, "No"—I said, "We are two police officers; I have a warrant for your arrest"—he said, "My name is C. H. Ritson"—I read the warrant to him; it charged him with forgery—he said, "May I say anything if I like?"—I said, "Whatever you say may be used as evidence against you at your trial "on the way to the station he said, "I am very sorry I did do it"—while waiting at the Police-court I said to him, "Did you write these letters?" showing him all three and a bill—he said, "Yes; I know I wrote the letters, but I did not write the bill"—that was not the bill in this case; he said he knew nothing of it—he said he had received a letter from Mr. Jewell, which he has destroyed, burned, or torn up.
Cross-examined. When I read the warrant you did not say," There is some great mistake here"—you said, "Am I obliged to say anything?"—I said, "You need not say anything"—you replied, "Then I will say nothing"—I said as we went to the station, "You wrote a letter to Mr. Jewell?"—you replied, "Yes, I am sorry I did."
Re-examined. The statement, "I am very sorry I did do it," referred to the letter he wrote to Mr. Jewell—he did not say why he was sorry he had done it.
JAMES BRENNER (Police Sergeant). I was with Brown when the prisoner was arrested—I have not been called as a witness before—Brown said to the prisoner," Is your name Ritson?"—the prisoner said, "Yes"; he said, "C. H. Ritson?"the prisoner said, "Yes"—it is possible the prisoner may have said "No "to the sergeant before I got up; he was in advance of me—he said we were police officers, and read the warrant—the prisoner said, "There must be some mistake"—I followed behind to the Police-station; nothing else was said in my hearing.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said the letter to Mr. Jewell was a genuine business letter, as he was thinking of taking a house at Wimbledon, and of putting up sheds to let as stables, and that he knew nothing of the bill.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE SPOONER . I am a broker in diamond and mining and gold shares, at 106, Hatton Garden—on 26th July I received this letter, signed C. H. Ritson. (The letter referred to De Beer shares, and asked if they could be purchased.)—I replied to it, signing George Spooner in full, but I left out my usual flourish, as I had not room to put it in—I know nothing of this bill for £75—I did not draw it, nor did I authorise anyone to draw it on Messrs. Gregory and Co.
Cross-examined. You asked in your letter if I could buy fifty De Beer shares, and what they would cost—they have risen since you wrote—I do not work on the cover system; my commission is 1s. per share—this is my ordinary signature, without the flourish—there is no flourish on the bill of exchange, and the flourish was left out in my letter to you—I do a large business in shares—I have large correspondence—it is no unusual thing to have inquiries, and to hear nothing further.
Re-examined. I signed my letter in a way similar to this on the bill of exchange.
ASHLEY HENRY ALBERT CRONMIRE . I carry on business as George Gregory and Co., 1, Church Court, Lothbury, stockbrokers—on 26th July I received this letter, signed C. H. Ritson—I replied to it. (This was dated from Este Road, and inquired about the purchase of Hull and Barnsley Railway shares)—I answered the letter, and it was signed by a perforated stamp in our office, with an imitation of our signature—I heard nothing more of Mr. Ritson till he was in custody; I heard nothing more of the Hull and Barnsley shares—I know nothing of this bill of exchange—this acceptance is not my signature, but a forgery—it is a bad imitation of my signature—I bank at the Finsbury Pavement branch of the London and couth-Western Bank—that fact was printed on the note-paper I sent in reply to Ritson.
Cross-examined. People need not correspond with me to find out my bankers—I advertise who they are—it was not unusual for me to hear no more of Hull and Barnsley shares.
JOHN WILLIAM WARR . I am cashier at the London and South-Western Bank, Finsbury Pavement—Mr. Cronmire banks with us—this bill of exchange for £75 was presented to me for payment over the counter by a man of about the prisoner's height and about the same age, but I cannot swear that the prisoner is the same man; he resembles him—I noticed a difference in the signature of the acceptance, and took the bill to the manager, who interviewed the person who presented the bill, and asked him to wait while we made inquiries—he said he had an engagement, and could not wait—he never returned.
Cross-examined. I had doubts about the signature—the man had a light moustache.
Cross-examined. Your wife gave notice the second Thursday after Bank Holiday; I believe she left about the 22nd.
custody, I said, "You will be further charged with attempting to utter a bill of exchange"—I showed him this bill for £75, and I then showed him the two letters to Spooner and Gregory, and the bill—he said, "I did write the letters; I know nothing about the bill whatever"
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . My attention has been directed to this bill of exchange for £75, and to the two letters directed to Spooner and Gregory, signed, "Ritson"—I say the hand that wrote the letters signed the signature and wrote the acceptance of the bill in disguise—I have not the slightest doubt that the body of the bill is in the writing of the person who wrote the letters—I can point out my reasons if the Jury desire it.
Cross-examined. I have not compared the forged bill with any letters but yours.
Re-examined. I find the words, Messrs. Gregory and Co., in the body of the bill and in the letter, and comparing those they are similar, as anyone acquainted with handwriting could see at once.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he wrote the letters, as he wanted to invest£10 in each of the two transactions.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
THOMAS CRIPPS . I am a decorator, of 6, College Place, King's Road, Chelsea—on Saturday, 7th September, about 8 p. m., I was in Battersea Park Road—I went into a public-house, and had a glass of bitter—I came out, and was walking along; I was perfectly sober—the prisoner got on one side of me, and another, man on the other, and ruffled me about—they both pushed me on one side, and then knocked me down, and the prisoner kicked me in the ribs when I was on the ground—I don't remember seeing anyone else about—I am sure the prisoner was one of the men—I should know the other man if I saw him—I lost my consciousness for about five minutes—when I came to, the men had gone; I only saw a woman there—I missed a sovereign from my left trousers pocket—I last saw it after I called for the ale—I had it in my pocket then, and when I came outside—I got up and went to the station, and gave a description—about twelve that night the police came to me, and I went with them to the station, and picked the prisoner out of twelve men without difficulty; directly I saw him I recognised him as the man who had assaulted me—I had no talk with him and the other man before—I did not offer a woman a sovereign to go home with her—the prisoner asked me at the Police-station it I did so.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You kicked me in the ribs as I came outside the public-house—I was unconscious for five minutes—I ran after you for two or three minutes—I did not run after the man that is not in custody—you got in front of me and knocked me down a second time, and kicked me—I was knocked down once, and then you assaulted me a second time, kicked me again—I was not on the ground all the time; after I got up you kicked me, too—you kicked me while I was down, and knocked me down, and when I got up you kicked me again—you did not knock me down a second time, but you kicked me a second time when I was up—I was insensible on the ground—after I came to I saw you standing there, but I
could not see anything of the other man; then you hit me again and went away—I was by myself in the public-house—I lost the sovereign about eight o'clock—it was not exactly daylight—it was 8. 15 when I gave information at the station of you as one of the persons who knocked me about—I only had one glass to drink, I was perfectly sober.
Re-examined. Until they assaulted me I had nothing to say to them; I had never seen them before.
WILLIAM SAVAGE . I live at 13, Gladstone Terrace, Battersea Park Road, and am a retired police officer—on this evening, about seven o'clock, I was standing between Gladstone Street and Lockington Road, reading a newspaper; about 100 yards from the Masons' Arms—I saw the prosecutor running as fast as he could down Lockington Road, and two men running after him, one about twenty yards and the other might have been about thirty yards from him—one of them was the prisoner—they turned the corner, and ran into a little narrow place called Stewart's Lane, and disappeared—about an hour afterwards I went to the Police-station to see the inspector—Cripps came in to make a complaint, and gave a description of the two men, or one in particular—I was with the police when the prisoner was apprehended, about a quarter to eleven the same night, outside the Rock public-house—I did not go out for the purpose—the Rock is about fifty or sixty yards from the Masons' Arms, and 150 yards from the place where the robbery and assault were committed—he came across the road towards the public house, and we apprehended him—when I saw Cripps and the two men running in the direction of the place where the alleged robbery was committed, I had a good sight of the prisoner—I have no doubt about him; I have known him a long time personally—when he was apprehended the prisoner said, "I have got a b----y pair of new boots out of the quid"—a quid is a sovereign—I looked at the soles of his boots; they seemed to be a new pair, hardly soiled—they might have been new that evening—that was said before he was charged—he said that to me about the quid when he was waiting in the inspector's office to be identified—I had not spoken to him—he was sober—the fact of a sovereign having been taken had not been previously mentioned in his hearing—after he was identified he was charged, not before—when the constable took him he told him it was for highway robbery with violence; I heard nothing said about a sovereign—he also said, "There is another thing; it is all through you that I was apprehended, and I will put your b----y lights out when I get a chance."
Cross-examined. The place it was stated Cripps was knocked about at, was just at the corner, as you turn into Stewart's Lane West—there is a dead wall from Havelock Terrace, and then comes the lane—the dead wall is the place he said he was robbed—I saw you with another man running after the prosecutor—I thought he was running to get away from you—he ran there because he was a stranger—if there had been any row I could have seen it outside the Masons' Arms—I was at the bottom of the street, Gladstone Terrace—I did not hear what the policeman said when he apprehended you.
GEORGE HAYNES (Policeman W 312). On 7th September I apprehended the prisoner, about 11. 30 p. m., in Battersea Park Road—I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned with another man in violently assaulting and robbing Thomas Cripps—he said, "Very well, governor, I will come"—at the station I placed him with about a dozen
other men, and Cripps immediately picked him out as the man who assaulted him—he was charged; he made no reply—Cripps was perfectly sober—I saw him when he lodged the complaint at the station—another constable took the charge; I was not present.
Cross-examined. The Inspector gave you an opportunity of placing yourself where you liked—Cripps was in a different room—I did not say to you, "Hold your head up, Bob"—I never spoke to Cripps from the time he was in the station till he went out.
By the COURT. I arrested the prisoner near the Rock; he was standing at the corner on the kerbstone—Savage was standing by—the prisoner did not offer to resist, but walked quietly to the station—I was not within hearing; I did not hear the prisoner say, "I have got a new pair of boots."
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he saw the prosecutor in the public house, and saw him go with two men towards the Rock; that a man afterwards told him Tudor had got the sovereign; that he ran after the man, and saw him over the railway line, and then went home.
GUILTY **†.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour, and twenty-five strokes with the cat.
791. WILLIAM ELLA (20), HARRIET ELLA (19), and MATILDA COX (20) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Charles Wakeley, and stealing two clocks, a perambulator, and other articles, his property.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted.
CHARLES ROBINSON (Detective P). On 15th August I was in plain clothes, keeping watch on 54, Bird-in-Bush Road, Peckham—about 4 p. m. I saw William Ella hand a perambulator out to a boy, William Cooper I followed Cooper and the perambulator, which he went on with, seeing it answered the description of the one stolen from 36, Glengall Road—Ella was about 100 yards behind the boy—when Ella got into Wells Street, Camberwell, he saw I was closing on him, and he ran—I followed the boy, who went to Camberwell Green, and waited there—I took him and the perambulator to Camberwell Green Police-station—then I took a cab and went back to 54, Bird-in-Bush Road, where I met Sergeants Leake and James—from what they told me I went to the house in company with them—the door being opened we walked upstairs into the first floor front room, and there saw the whole of the prisoners, three of them in Ella's apartments—it is a three-storey house, let out in apartments; only two rooms were occupied, back and front, by Ella and Cox—Cox occupied the back room—Ella paid the rent of one room, and Cox that of the other; each is a bed and living room—I said to Cox, who was in Ella's room, "You will be charged with these two with breaking and entering 36. Glengall Road"—she said, "This is my room at the back"—I went into the back room and searched it; I found twenty-three duplicates under the mattress, a shell purse, two plated salt-spoons, two pairs of nutcrackers, three metal egg-cups, eight plated forks, five knives, and three silver-plated candlesticks—I said, "Do the pawn-tickets relate to your own property?"—she said, "Yes, all but two or three"—I said, "How do you account for these knives and forks and this property that we find here?"—she said, "He gave them to me in the next room"—I said, "You mean
Ella?"—she said, "Yes"—I took her into the room where the other two were, and repeated what she said, in Ella's presence—she said, "It is untrue; I? ever said so"—I said to Ella, "Did you give her these things?"—Ella said, "No"—I said, "Cox tells me you have; she made a statement in the next room to me that you gave them to her"—Cox said, "It is a lie, I never said so"—the other two sergeants were with us—I took her to the station—Cox said, "I know who has put us away; if I get hold of the b----I will stamp her guts out"—she was charged at the station; she made no further reply—I saw Harriet Ella in the front room with Ella; she said nothing—she is no relation to him, hut she is living with him—some of the pawn-tickets relate to the articles produced.
BENJAMIN LEAKE (Police Sergeant P). I went with Robinson to this house—I found in Ella's room, on the mantelpiece, eleven forks, four spoons, two pairs of nut-crackers, five knives, one pair of scissors, a meerschaum cigar-holder in a case, four plated egg-cups, and four candlesticks—I said to Ella, "I shall take you in custody, and charge you with being concerned with others in breaking and entering 36, Glengall Road, Old Kent Road, between the 7th and 9th of the present month"—he said, "Good God! I had rather you shot me than that I should he pinched, on my oath I would; this is what you get for minding things for people"—pinched means being taken into custody—when charged at the station with breaking and entering, he made no reply—Mr. Wakeley has identified nearly all the property I produced as his—the candlesticks and eggcups have not been identified—some of it has been identified by Mr. Bettson; nearly all his property was pawned.
THOMAS JAMES (Police Sergeant P). I was with Robinson on 15th August, keeping observation on 54, Bird-in-Bush Road—Leake charged the prisoners—William Ella said, "I would rather you shot me than I should get pinched"—Harriet Ella said, "Oh, what shall we do!"—she cried very much—I helped Leake search the room—in the front room, occupied by the Ellas, and in which all the prisoners were standing, I found, in a parcel on a table, three bangles, a bracelet, four brooches, three purses, one necklace, one needle-case, two silk handkerchiefs, two toilet-cases, a lady's companion, and four pawn-tickets, none of which have been identified—I know nothing of the pawn-tickets.
CHARLES WAKELEY . I live at 36, Glengall Road, Peckham, and am secretary of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union—I, my wife, and family left our house empty on 22nd July—on Tuesday, 6th August, I went back, and saw everything was safe—on 7th I went outside and saw the door was safe—on the 9th I went and found the house had been broken into—I found the side gate open leading into the garden—I should think they had got over the side gate into the side passage, and so to the back of the house, and forced the kitchen window—I entered by the side door and saw the kitchen door open; it had been bolted from outside—I entered the room, and found the bar behind the shutter had been broken; the screw joining the two window-sashes had been forced and bent—the window was open—the shutters lined with iron and faced with wood had been forced—an attempt had been made from outside to
out through the wood, but coming upon the iron they had forced the shutter, breaking the wooden bar behind it—I gave information to the police.
GEORGE DORRELL BETTSON . I live at Blair Lodge, London Road, Forest Hill, and am a warehouseman—this gold watch and coat and waistcoat belong to me—I last saw them safe in my house on 19th July—I went out of town, leaving my house empty—I left the keys with a relative—my watch I left in the looking-glass drawer of the front bedroom on the first floor; I never lock anything up—the coat and vest were hung up—on 25th July I returned and missed these things and a great number of others—I found the house had been broken into.
W. T. PICRY (Re-examined). This coat and vest were pawned with me for 6s. 6d., and the watch and chain for £1 1s. on 6th August by Cox; she gave the address 45, Bird in-Bush Road—I identify her.
William Ella, in his defence, said he was guilty of breaking into Blair Lodge, but that the two females knew nothing about the housebreaking, and did not know the things were stolen when they pledged them.
Harriet Ella said a young man had left the things in her care, saying he had the brokers in; and that she did not know they had been stolen.
Cox said that she pledged the things, but did not know they were stolen.—
GUILTY of Receiving.
792. WILLIAM ELLA, HARRIET ELLA , and MATILDA COX were again indicted, with HARRY POVEY and HARRY CLARKSON , for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of George Dorrell Bettson, and stealing a watch and other articles.
William Ella, Povey, and Clarkson
PLEADED GUILTY . Clarkson also
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in May, 1888.
WILLIAM ELLA**, POVEY, and CLARKSON.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
HARRIET ELLA† and COX†. — Ten Months' Hard Labour each.
The Court commended the conduct of the constables.
WILLIAM OXFORD PENSENEY . I keep the Princess Charlotte publichouse, Albany Road, Camberwell—I live on the premises—about a quarter or half past 1 a. m., on August 21st, I locked up the house, leaving the gate bolted, and the windows bolted and fastened by nuts and screws—I was called about 2. 15 by White—I had previously heard a noise as of empty barrels being rolled—I was sleeping in the top back bedroom—I put my head out at the window, and White said, "I want you to come down"—I found the prisoner in his custody, lacing up his boots—the shutter was off its hinge, the window broken—a hand had been passed through the window about a quarter of an inch, to unscrew the bolt—on the way to the station I said to the prisoner, "What made you come
to my place to break into my premises?"—he said, "Because I wanted bread; I suppose I shall get some when I go to prison."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It would have been possible to get in in about another minute, the bolt was nearly unscrewed—you had broken the window sufficiently to pass your hand through—I heard the roll of an empty barrel, which was outside, and lay listening—I found it placed at the window you had been working on—my window was at an angle to it—I lost nothing, there was not time for you to get on to the premises—the window shutter was broken off its hinges by a jemmy, there were marks—the constable chased another man some way.
MICHAEL WHITE (Policeman P 439). I was in the Albany Road on the morning of the 21st of August, about 2. 15, and heard a slight breakage of glass as I was examining doors—I stood by for about a quarter of an hour, and then walked very fast past the house and returned very quietly; when I reached the house the prisoner and another man rushed out at the door leading to the side premises; they were inside—I pursued them about 200 yards, and caught the prisoner—the other man, who escaped, threw away a jemmy while running; I picked it up about a quarter to twelve that morning—when I caught the prisoner I said to him, "What were you doing there?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "Who was with you?"—he said, "I don't know; it is bad enough by myself"—I took him to the public-house—I found the side gate, which he came out of, open—it leads to the rear of the prosecutor's premises—the hinge of the window shutter was broken, the glass was broken, the catch inside was undone, and the screw fastening window and shutter was undone—a hand could be inserted through the glass to undo the screw—the bolt inside the window was three parts undone—the window leads from the yard into the bar—I took him to the station, and charged him—he made no reply—I found this chisel and three pick-locks and some ordinary keys on him.
JOHN FORD (Police Inspector P). On August 21st the prisoner was brought to the station about 3 a. m:, and I took the charge—I saw the constable search him, and find these pick-locks and chisels on him—I went to the premises in the morning—the shutter-hinge had been wrenched with this end of the jemmy—there were marks corresponding to the jemmy—the bottom part of the top sash had been wrenched out with this chisel; there were marks corresponding to it—the catch had been put back, and the screw that went through the two sashes had been unscrewed—if the glass had not been broken the screw could not have been touched—a hand must have been inserted six or eight inches.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BOWEN Prosecuted.
EMILY MARTIN . I am single, and live at 11, Falcon Terrace, Clapham Junction—this sheet and table-cloth, worth 6s., are my property—about nine or ten on Sunday night, September 1st, I left them on a line in the kitchen, hanging up to air—I went to bed about eleven, leaving the house shut up—the window and the hall-door were shut but not fastened—there is a low wall which anyone might get over at the back of the
house—from the yard you can get into the kitchen—I came down about 8 a. m.; the officer brought me these things, and then I found they had been taken from the line—I had heard a slight noise at three o'clock at the back of the house.
FREDERICK MILLWARD (Policeman V 55). On the morning of 2nd September, about 3. 30, I saw the prisoner in a covered van in a yard leading out of Falcon Grove, with this table-cloth in his hand—on seeing me he dropped it, and tried to cover it with some rubbish in the van—there was no horse in the van—it was about one hundred yards from the house—I said, "Where did you get that from?"—he said, "I did not know it was there"—I took him in custody—I examined the premises, and found the sheet about eighteen inches from where the prisoner was on the other side of the wall, close to where the van was which the prisoner was in—the premises had been entered by the back door, by climbing over a wall six feet high; the door was left unsecurely fastened.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said he knew nothing about the sheet or table-cloth.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Ten Months' Hard Labour ,
MR. ROGERS Prosecuted.
THOMAS JAMES (Police Sergeant P). I received this certificate from Mary Savage, the mother of the second wife—I have compared it with the register at Holy Trinity Church, Bedford—it is a true copy. (This certified a marriage on April 5th, 1879, between John Crossley, 22, bachelor, and Mary Ann Daisley, 21, spinster.)—I compared this other certificate with the register of St. Margaret's and All Saints', Barking Road, Essex, and found it correct. (This certified a marriage between Harriet Baker and John Crossley, on 1st November, 1885.)—on 23rd August I went to the place where the prisoner was living with another woman, 10, Coldharbour Lane—became out of the house, and was pointed out by the second wife—I said, "I am a police officer; you are accused of having committed bigamy; you will have to come down to the police-station with me"—he became very violent, and threw me over his shoulder into the middle of the road, and ran away after about ten minutes' struggle—he was stopped by a young man—I came up, and took him again—he said, "I can explain everything"—when charged at the station he said, "I want to make a statement. I was married to Miss Daisley while I was in the Army; she got" me to desert, and then turned out bad. I then went back, and done my punishment, and then came home. I found she was married, and got two children at Sheffield. I then left her, and came to Waterloo Street, Camberwell, and picked up with Miss Baker, and got married again; her mother lives at Horsley Street, Potton, Bedfordshire" (that was referring to his first wife); "the boy told us all about it the other day."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your wife was not fifty yards off when I took you in charge—you said you had found your wife living at Sheffield with another man.
SARAH ANN DAISLEY . I am a domestic servant, at 2, Deronda Road, Herne Hill—I am single—I was present at Trinity Church, Bedford, on 5th April, 1879, when the prisoner was married to my aunt, Mary Ann
Daisley—they lived together as man and wife between two and three years—I saw my aunt on the 12th inst at York; she is alive now.
Cross-examined. Her name now is Bradshaw; she married again seven years ago; she told me so when I last saw her.
MARY SAVAGE . I am the wife of Richard Savage—we live at 34, Brandon Street, Walworth—my first husband's name was Baker—on 1st November, 1885, I was present at St. Margaret's Church, Barking Road, when the prisoner was married to my daughter, Harriet Baker; they lived together in my place as man and wife.
Cross-examined. You have used my daughter properly since you married her; you have kept her in a comfortable home, and never ill treated her.
Cross-examined. You were a good husband to me, no one need wish for a better; it is not my wish you are here.
By the COURT. I have two children by him.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said his wife left him, and that he went to Afghanistan and Egypt, and, not hearing of his wife, and thinking she was gone, he married again.
NOT GUILTY .
796. JOHN GREEN (23) and JOHN BURDEN (22) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Shailer, and stealing a quantity of sweet stuff; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Benjamin Fisher, and stealing waistcoats, coats, etc.; and also to an attempt to commit burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Maxwell. Burden also
PLEADED GUILTY † to a conviction of felony at Newington in February, 1886.
BURDEN— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
GREEN— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. And
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 21ST, 1889.