CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 21ST, 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, October 21st, 1889, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JAMES WHITEHEAD, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir JAMES FITZJAMES STEPHEN, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS GABRIEL , Bart., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., and Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the City; JOSEPH SAVORY , Esq., DAVID EVANS , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., HORATIO DAVIES , Esq., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., and EDWARD HART , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
WHITEHEAD, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 21st, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
798. ARTHUR MUSKETT YETTS (39) was indicted for unlawfully taking Florence Eleanor Dexter, a girl under the age of eighteen, out of the possession of her father on 3rd April, with intent, etc. Other Counts, for like offences on other dates.
MR. FORREST FULTON Prosecuted and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
800. JOHN WESTON (22) , to breaking and entering the counting-house of De Leeuw Logeman, and stealing a cash box and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in April, 1888.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
802. JANE DURN FORD (39) , to stealing a watch-chain pendant from the person of Robert Duff; and also to a conviction of felony in January, 1882.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
803. CHARLES COLEBROOK (19) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Arthur Stephens, and stealing 4d.; and also to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Charles Arthur Lene, and stealing a clock and other articles.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
804. WILLIAM ROBINSON (22) and WILLIAM EVANS (23) , to breaking and entering the warehouse of Messrs. Woodhouse and Rawson, Limited, and stealing various instrument's.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. There was another indictment against the Prisoners.
805. ELSON JAMES HUMPHREYS (61) , to lawfully obtaining by false pretences from Alfred Crimp £4 and a cheque for £71; from Edward Knightley £100; from Charles Moon £80, and from >William Charles Mabey £50, with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of felony in June, 1886, in the name of James Humphreys.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard labour. And
806. GEORGE SURMAN (60) , to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Herbert John Kyberd a dead pig", with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of felony in October, 1882.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 21st, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
808. GEORGE JOHN FIELD (22) , to stealing a post-letter containing Postoffice orders and stamps; also to forging and uttering a receipt for 5s., with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
810. GEORGE WILLIAM HUTTON (19) , to stealing a post-letter containing Post-office orders; also to forging and uttering receipts to the said orders.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
811. WILLIAM WATKIN WYNNE (29) , to stealing a postletter, containing two half-sovereigns, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. K. FRITH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MCLASKEY . I am a general dealer, of 17, Sardinia Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields—we have a shop, and a dwelling-house above it—on 25th August, about 4. 30 a. m., a constable called me—I went down and found some of the goods had been moved, and some were gone—I missed 1 1/4 lb. of tobacco, four packets of cocoa, 3 lb. of German sausage, 4lb. of brawn, 12 jam tarts, a box of cigarette papers, 14 lb. of sugar, and about 1s. in bronze—the entry had been effected by pushing out a panel of the front door—there was the mark of an instrument at the bottom of the panel of the parlour-door leading to the shop—the value of the things lost is 30s.—I left the house safe when I went to bed—I identified the cigars, tobacco, and chocolate at the station.
AMBROSE HUSKEY (Policeman E 338). On 25th August, about 3 a. m., I was at the corner of Sardinia Street and Vere Street, and saw four men cross Sardinia Street from No. 17 to No. 24—I believe Toomey was one of them; Jones handed him to me; I said nothing, but he said, "I have only just come down; I was going hopping "—I did not know him—he said at the station, "I had only been down half an hour, and I was going hopping"—after Pharaoh returned Toomey opened the door of No. 24, and said, "I live here"—we searched the passage and found this property there, and 4 lb. of brawn in the back yard, which was given to the prosecutor.
Cross-examined by Toomey. I did not see you come out of No. 24.
JOHN IRELAND (Policeman E 183). On August 25th, about 3 a. m., I was in Sardinia Street, and saw Toomey and three others carrying parcels in their arms—they entered No. 24, and I went to No. 17, and found it had been broken open—I ran back to No. 24, and found Toomey just opening the door from the inside—I caught hold of him—there were three others in the passage—he struggled, and the door was shut against me—I gave a signal to Huskey, who came—the door was partly opened, and I pulled the prisoner out—the door was then shut, shutting him out and the others in—I handed him over to Huskey, and went to No. 22 at the back, where I saw a man scaling the wall—I went round to Little Wild Street, but failed to make any apprehension—I found No. 17 had been broken open, the panel split in two, making a swing-door of the panel, and the two bolts wrenched from the boxes—the prisoner was taken to the station and searched—he said, "I have only been out half an hour; I was going hopping with a man named Cook and his family "—we had a great struggle outside No. 24, and Toomey got me down on the ground till another constable arrived—on September 7th we took Jennings in Sardinia Place—he was very violent all the way to the station, and at Bow Street he said, "I will do for you, Jack Ireland,'' and kicked me backwards on my leg—it pained me very much, and there has been a bruise up to a few days ago.
DEBORAH PAYNE . My husband is a tinman, of 28, Sardinia Street—on 25th August I was very ill, and was sitting up—I live immediately opposite No. 17, in front of which there is a street lamp—I saw the two prisoners and another man standing at the lamp-post looking at something, which looked like a knife—Toomey lives two doors off, but I only know him by sight; he used to live opposite—the street door of No. 17 was opened, and the three walked in, and another with them—Toomey came out alone with a big bag—Jennings and another young chap ran across the road from No. 17—that was before Toomey was taken—I have no doubt about either of the prisoners—I knew thorn before—it was not daylight—it is not a wide street.
Cross-examined by Toomey. You came across the road towards your door—I saw you taken in custody—this letter has been sent to me, threatening me if I give evidence.
WILLIAM PHARAOH (Policeman E 366). On 7th September I saw Jennings standing at the comer of Sardinia Street—he took a belt off his waist, twisted it round his wrist, and said, "You come near me, and I will cut your lights out," before I said anything to him—I blew my whistle; he ran away, but after a smart chase he was taken—he said at the station that the money in the till was all bad, and he could not spend it—a tobacco-box and belt were found on him, and some characters which were returned to him; they referred to him as an honest man.
Toomey's statement before the Magistrate. "I can always earn an honest living, and always could get employment and keep it so as to have a character. I was not properly out of work; I was to be put on work the first vacancy. "
Witness for Toomey.
MARY TOOMEY . I am the wife of Jeremiah Toomey, a labourer, who is ill in bed—James Toomey is my son—on Sunday morning, August 25th, I heard him go upstairs at 2. 30—he took off his things, and sat in a chair for half an hour; I told him to have a good rest, and a breakfast
before he started; he was going hopping with some parties, and I tied up his corduroy trousers and jacket and boots and some grub—he had been in constant work; he got a week's notice, but he was sent for again.
Cross-examined. I cannot read writing—I do not know my son's writing—this letter looks very much like his writing.
Witness for Jennings.
ELIZABETH JENNINGS . I am the wife of Richard Jennings, a tailor, of 12, Vine Court; the prisoner Jennings is my son—on this Saturday night he came home at ten o'clock, and went to bed at twelve, and got up at three and went out, saying he was going to see the hoppers go away, and he was coming back to go to the Great Northern—he did not come back; I saw him again at 6. 30.
Cross-examined. We live four or five streets from Sardinia Street—that is not very near Clare Market; it is in Lincoln's Inn Fields—on the night of the burglary, Saturday, he went to work at the Great Northern at a quarter to twelve, and came home at a quarter to one o'clock, and said, "Mother, I was too late"—the burglary was on the Sunday morning, and he did not go out till 4. 30.
Toomey's Defence. I think it very hard that I cannot come out of the house where I live. My father is dying, and my mother met with an accident.
Jennings handed in a written statement denying all knowledge of the robbery.
TOOMEY— GUILTY †— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
JENNINGS— NOT GUILTY (See next page.)
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 22nd, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. GRAIN and WILLES Prosecuted; MR. FRANCIS WILLIAMS, Q. C, W with MR. MOYSES, Defended.
This was a voluntary prosecution, the case having been dismissed by the Magistrate after seven hearings. Civil proceedings had also been unsuccessfully taken.
The JURY, during the progress of the case, intimated that they had agreed, and, with the sanction of the RECORDER, they found the prisoners.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 22nd, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. K. FRITH Prosecuted.
JOHN IRELAND (Policeman E 183). On 7th September I assisted Pharaoh in arresting the prisoner; I was in uniform—he was told that the charge was breaking into 17, Sardinia Street on the night of August 25th; he said "All right"—Pharaoh and Huskey took him to the station, and I followed close behind—there was a very large crowd, and he was shouting to his friends, "Don't let those b—s—s take me," and struck me in Clare Market—he went quietly for a little way, but in. Kemble Street he called to his friends again to rescue him, and started struggling, and when we got to Bow Street he turned round and said, "I will do for you. Jack Ireland, and deliberately kicked back and kicked me on my right knee-cap—he then threw himself on the ground, and we carried him to the station—I suffered much pain for days, and there was t, bruise there till last week—I was not examined by a surgeon.
JOHN WHITE (Policeman E 324). I was in Kemble Street, and saw the prisoner in Ireland's custody—a rush was made to rescue him—I kept the people back, and the prisoner said, "All right, Mr. White, I will go quietly now"—he went quietly about forty yards, and then began struggling—we had great difficulty with him for twenty yards—he then went quietly again till we got to Bow Street, where he shouted, "Don't lot the s—s take me; I will do for you. Jack Ireland," and kicked backwards, and kicked Ireland on his knee.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not frogmarch you to the station, •or put my knuckles in the back of your neck.
GUILTY Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— . Nine Month'' Hard Labour.
MR. ROUTH Prosecuted and MR. K. FRITH Defended,
NOAH HORNE . I am a coachman to an undertaker, and live at 12, Stayton Street, Chelsea—I am a member of the Junior Social Slate Club—these are the rules (produced)—we subscribe 7d. a week, 6d. of which is for sharing out, and Id. for the sick fund—the sharing out is among ourselves for a Christmas dinner—the prisoner was the secretary, and received the money—he had 3d. a quarter from each member for his services—I first began to pay him on April 1st, and my last payment was on September 16th—I went on paying till he was dismissed—this 10 U for 10s., signed N. Home, is not my writing—this (produced) is my signature—no one had access to the books except the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The books were kept at his place, 14, Pont Terrace, but the proceedings were carried on at the Marlborough Arms—the Slate Club is a Friendly Society; it is not registered—the receipts are given out of a receipt-book with counterfoils to it; if you have a loan, a receipt is taken out of the book, and you sign for it—this is the cashbook; the treasurer keeps it; I know nothing about it—this is the contribution-book; and this is my book; it says, *'2s. 4d., J. B."—"J. B." is
J. Barrett, who fell ill and died suddenly—he got the penny for his funeral; he got 1s. from each member—we have a secretary, a chairman, two trustees, and a check secretary—the account was never overdrawn—a general meeting appoints two members as auditors, and the chairman and two members act as stewards; they visit the sick—if the auditors find anything wrong, the secretary would have to make up the differencebefore anyone can get a loan, this man has to become responsible to the treasurer, who then signs his name to the I O U—the club have asked meto pay this money; I was not in the club-room on 6th May when he forged my name—I have been five times at Westminster Police-court; it was put off for six weeks, and bail was refused—I do not know the difference between a receipt and an I O U; you have an I O U, and you put your name to it, and that is a receipt.
By the COURT. If you sign your name that you owe a person a sum of money, that is a receipt for the sum—there is no date on it—I was not there on 6th May, but I say that he did it because it is in the loan book. Re-examined. I was not on the committee, and do not understand the management of the money affairs; the prisoner lends the loans and signs his name to the I O U's.
THOMAS MUSGROVE . I manage the Feathers public-house, Taplow Common, and am manager to Mr. James, the treasurer of the Junior Social Slate Club—it is my duty to receive the money after the secretary has received it, and if the secretary wanted any money for sick persons or loans he used to give me a receipt, and I gave him the money; I had money in hand; this (produced) is a loan of 10s. from Herbert to Mr. Horne—he brought me the money afterwards, deducting the loans—the prisoner's duty was to sit there and take the money, and bring it over to me; I used to sign the book for the amount I received, and he used to sign for what money he deducted from the amount—this book, which is in the prisoner's writing, shows the amount paid to me on Monday night, and if there were loans or sick pay I used to deduct it from the money in hand—I was at the club on May 6th; the entry here is, "By cash, £3 10s. 9 1/2 d., S. Musgrove;" and opposite that, "May 6th, sick pay, 5s.; loans, £1 10s. "—that did not take up all the money—this is Barrett's writing, "By cash, £3 11s. 8d.," and on the other side, "Postage, 6d.; cash by loan, £2. "
Cross-examined. This is the book I used to keep, and Mr. Herbert has signed for all money in that book, and he used to keep this other book; my signature is not in that, Herbert signed it; I used to sign his book—I did not sign for cash loans and sick pay; the secretary signed that—the prisoner signed his name every week; there are scores of his signatures, and so there are of mine—the club met at a public-house at eight o'clock, and closed at ten, but the house closed at 12. 30—this book was kept by the secretary; I have nothing to do with any book but the little book—I cannot give you any idea how much the prisoner has accounted for—the club only lasts a year, it is called the Junior, because there is another, the Senior, which meets on Saturday nights, and the Junior on Mondays—I cannot give you any idea how much money I took; there were about sixty members, and we used to share out about 25s.—it is eight weeks last Thursday since I ceased to be treasurer.
weekly—this is not my signature, nor did I receive the 10s.; it is a forgery—the receipt was torn out on May 20th.
Cross-examined. If a Junior Social Slater is unable to go to the club, he can send the money by anybody he thinks proper—this is the I O U book—10s. is the maximum amount allowed to be borrowed; two sums of 10s. could not be borrowed at the same time.
THOMAS MUSGROVE (Re-examined). The receipt for 10s. and 10s. sick pay was given to me by the prisoner, "Received of T. Musgrove, for loan what was forgot, the sum of £1.—H. Herbert"—that is the prisoner's writing—on 25th June I made an advance to the prisoner, and this document was given to me, "Sick pay, £1; loan, £1 10s. "—that was on the24th—I handed £1 to the secretary, and 10s. to "William Fryer, who was waiting to receive it, on the faith of this receipt.
WILLIAM FRYER . I am a baker, of 1, Marlborough Street, Chelsea—I am a member of this club—on Tuesday, 25th June, about 10 a. m., I met the prisoner by arrangement; I went into the public-house, and this paper was written out—Musgrove gave Herbert £1, and Herbert gave me 10s. out of it, and put the other 10s. in his pocket—this "W. Fryer" on this document (C) is my writing—I had the loan.
Cross-examined. I signed the document for 10s., not for £1.
THOMAS DENGATE (Policeman A 641). I served a summons on the prisoner about 23rd or 24th July, for uttering a forged receipt for 10s., with intent to defraud—he said he never intended to cheat the society.
GUILTY of the uttering. He received a good character.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted, and MR. BURNEY Defended.
EMMA SIBLEY . I am the wife of Thomas Sibley, of 111, Murray Street, Hoxton; he lives in the house—on Sunday, September 22nd, about 10 p. m., I was sitting in the; basement, reading, and heard a knock at the door—I went up and saw the prisoner bursting my street door in—he came half-way along the passage—I was half-way up the kitchen stairs, so that I could see and he could see me—he said, "Your neighbour's house is on fire"—I said, "Thank you," and called to my lodger, "For God's sake, Jones, make haste, the house is on fire!"—Mr. Jones and his wife came down, and when the prisoner saw them he ran away, and Mr. Jones ran after him, and after a very violent struggle brought him back—the door had been fastened with a latch, which opened with a key; it was broken away, and a piece of, wood broken off, and the catch which held the lock was lying in the passage with a piece of wood attached to it.
Cross-examined. I had a light in the basement room, and there was a light in the hall—I have two other lodgers besides Mr. and Mrs. Jones: they had gone to bed—there was a knock at the door first, and the door was burst in two or three minutes afterwards—there is no bell.
JOSEPH JONES . I lodge at this house—about 10. 30 on this night Mrs. Sibley called upstairs, "Joe, for God's sake come down, fire!"—I had just taken my waistcoat off—I went down, and saw the prisoner; he left, and I went after him about 100 yards, and caught him at the bottom of Mary Street; I caught him by his throat and said, "I want you "—he
said, "You s——, I will do for you; I could do two of you"—I got him by the throat, we struggled, and I fell on top of him; a constable came up, and caught him just as he was going to kick me on my head—he said at the station, "You s——, if I do twenty years for it I will do for you"—I said, "You won't. "
Cross-examined. I had not gone to bed; there was a light in my room.
JAMES HUNT (Policeman G 463). On September 22nd, about 10. 30 p. m., I was at Bookham Street fixed point, and heard cries of "Police!" proceeding from Murray Street, and saw the prisoner running towards me, followed by Jones—when within twelve yards of me Jones closed with him, and they both fell—the prisoner got up and kicked Jones—I caught hold of him—the prosecutrix came up, pointed to the prisoner, and said, "He has burst open my door, 111, Murray Street''—I took the prisoner back; he became very violent, and tried to get away—City Policeman 145 came to my assistance, and we took him to the station—on the way he said, "Leave go of me"—I declined, and he said, "If you don't leave go of me I will kick your bleeding——out," and kicked me on my legs several times—I had been on duty at the fixed point about an hour and a quarter, but heard no cry of fire.
Cross-examined. There are a great many people about on Sunday night; I was in uniform, and the prisoner ran towards me.
GEORGE BALDOCK (Police Inspector G). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—he was then shamming drunkenness; he laid his head on his arm as he stood in the dock, and while I was investigating the charge he jumped up, and I found he was not drunk—he said, "You know me very well; you know more about me than all these put together; you know I only came out yesterday morning, and you see I have been and got drunk. As I was coming along a lot of people were calling out 'Fire,' and I thought it was the house next this one, and I went to warn them; it is not likely that I should go and knock at the door, and then burst it open, if I intended to steal anything"—I went to Murray Street, and found the door had been forced open by someone's shoulder, as far as I could judge; the catch of the lock was burst off, and the door-post splintered three or four inches above the lock.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: ''I was in a public-house opposite, drinking with a man; he said I had had enough, and told me to go home and go to bed. I was very drunk; several boys said there was a fire; I said 'Where?' they said, 'There.' I knocked at the door and pushed it open, and said to the prosecutrix, 'There is a fire.' She called this man, and I ran away."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RAVEN offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and GILL Prosecuted, and MR. CHARLES
MATHEWS Defended. CAROLINE FOSTER. I am a midwife in the Marylebone Workhouse—the prisoner was there at the end of March this year, and on the 28th she was confined of a male child—she remained at the workhouse until the 30th of April—she then left, taking the child with her—she had clothing given her for the child—the articles now produced came from my ward; they are similar to those which the child had when it left the workhouse—I saw the child every day while it was in the workhouse—the body of a child was shown to me at the mortuary—I noticed that it had a large head, and the prisoner's child had a large head; I thought it was her child by the head, that was all.
ALICE STAPLES . I am a servant out of place—I was stopping at the Gladstone Home for Servants, at 199, Great Portland Street—the prisoner came there on 10th September, with a baby six or seven months old—she stayed there till the 12th; she then went away, and came back on Saturday morning, the 14th—she saw the lady superior in my presence—she had the baby with her—I gave her some breakfast—I asked her what she was going to do—she said she was going to a lady's in Sloano Square, to try to get a home for the baby—we went there about half-past eleven, she carrying the baby—we called at Mrs. Hyndman's; a gentleman said Mrs. Hyndman could not see her, as she was going out, but she would see her one day next week—we then went to a Convent in Ashley Place, near Victoria Station, to try and get the baby in there—we saw a nurse, who said she could not take the baby, that they were so full, they only took a certain number—the prisoner did not say anything—I asked the nurse about it, and she said she could not give her any idea where to go—we came out, and I left the prisoner outside—this was about half-past three in the afternoon—I asked her what she was going to do; she said she did not know, she said she felt very tired—I told her I should go home—she had some money; I kept her purse when she went away on the Thursday till the Saturday morning; she had about 6s. 8d.—they do not take in children at our Home, they only take servants—the baby seemed very cross, and was crying when I left her—I got home about four or a little after—about half-past nine that same night I saw the prisoner again at the Home—I saw her come in the kitchen door—seeing she had not got the baby with her, I asked her where it was—she said, "I left it with a friend"—she said that to me and a few others—two or three of us asked her where the child was—she was only asked once—she was asked next morning (Sunday) if she did not miss the baby—she said she did a little—she remained at the Home until Tuesday, the 17th, when she was taken away by a detective—I went to the station that day; I there saw some baby's clothing, which I identified as those worn by the baby—I also saw the dead body, and identified it as the prisoner's child.
Cross-examined. The baby cried very much from the time it came to the Home, and rather disturbed the inmates—on Thursday, the 12th, the lady superior said the child could not stay there any longer, and I went out with her about eleven or twelve to try and find a lodging—she had very little to eat that morning—we walked about the whole day, she not getting back till half-past nine at night—she was then told the child could not stay there another night, and she went away—the child was taken ill in the evening, and about eight o'clock I went with her to the London
Temperance Hospital, in the Hampstead Road, and the child was seen by a doctor—it was suffering from convulsions very bad—the doctor gave a prescription for it, and it was brought home—it was somewhat about ten when she left the Home on Thursday night—I advised her to go to the workhouse where she had been confined—the next I saw of her was on the Saturday morning, somewhere between ten and eleven—she had some breakfast, bread-and-butter and tea, and then I went out and about with her all day—she was very tired, and so was I—when I saw her again at half-past nine I am sure the words she used were, "I left it with a friend"—Mrs. Nesbitt was in the office, and she told her so.
MARY LINCOLN NESBITT. I am secretary at the Servants' Home, 199, Great Portland Street—the prisoner came there on 10th September—she remained two nights—there is a rule against the admission of servants with children, but the prisoner was taken in out of charity, as it was so late, and we had known her hitherto as a respectable person—I saw her again on Saturday evening, the 14th, between nine and a quarter-past—she came into the office to me—she had not got the baby with her—I asked her what she had done with it—she said she had got it a home with a friend—we questioned her very severely where the friend was—she did not answer that; she said it was all right—she seemed very cheerful and comfortable; there was nothing suspicious in her demeanour—she remained in the Home until the Tuesday morning, when she was arrested—I subsequently pointed out some boxes to Inspector Greet, which he examined in my presence.
MATILDA HYNDMAN . I am the wife of Henry Hyndman, of 2, Sloane Square—I first knew of the prisoner through an old servant of mine—at the end of November or beginning of December she came up to me—I had some conversation with her as to her condition—she told me she was in the family-way—I kept her in my house about ten days; I then sent her to the Home in Great Portland Street—she afterwards went to the Marylebone Workhouse, and then to the Infirmary'—I saw her there; she remained there till 13th August—I then took her and her child with me to Margate; she remained with me there until 10th September, and I saw her daily—the child was very ill when we first went to Margate, and it was very ill off and on all the time; in fact, it was constantly ill; it had convulsions and a fit—I saw it in convulsions; it appeared to be dead; we gave it a hot bath, and it revived—I think that was on the 15th August, two days after we got to Margate—on the 10th September she left earlier in the day than I did—she wanted to go near the Foundling Hospital, so as to get the child taken in there—I did not know where she was going to that night; she was to write to me the next day—I did not see her again until I saw her at the Police-court on 18th September—I did not receive a letter from her the next day, I did the day after; I have not got it; she said in it that she was at the Home in Great Portland Street—on Saturday, the 14th, I heard of somebody calling, but I did not know it was the prisoner—on Monday, the 16th, I received another letter from the prisoner—I have endeavoured to find that letter, but could not—I believe I destroyed it—she said in that, that the child had had another fit, and it died in her arms in Hyde Park—I believe it mentioned her having called on me—it was addressed from Great Portland Street—I afterwards saw the child at the mortuary—the prisoner was in a very bad state of health when at Margate.
Cross-examined. She suffered very much from headache—I saw her in Sloane Square in November or December, 1888—she then told me what her condition was, and I saw her in the workhouse before her confinement—I saw her constantly before she went to the workhouse, and afterwards before she was confined—she was kind and attentive to the child in every way—she went out with it every day—besides the fit on 15th August, the child had constant convulsions—Dr. Scatley, of Margate, was called in to the fit; I thought the child was dead—a Mrs. Quelch was there at the time; she is a woman with six children; she also thought the child was dead—it was revived by the warm bath, to my surprise; he lay as dead after that for some minutes—the prisoner took it to Dr. Scatley, and he prescribed for it—the child got a little fatter, but did not get better at Margate—on 10th September she returned before me—I did not see her when she called on the 12th—I saw her in St. George's Infirmary—she did not suckle the child.
JEREMIAH SPILLAIN (Policeman A 441). On Sunday morning, 15th September, about a quarter-past seven, I was on duty in Hyde Park by the Serpentine, near the boat-house at the edge of the water—I saw the body of a child behind the boat-house, face downwards—the water there was six or seven inches deep—I could not reach the body without wetting my feet, I had to draw my truncheon, and so I fetched the body out, and found it was the body of a male child—I conveyed it to the policestation and sent for Dr. Tweed, who pronounced it to be dead; it was taken to the mortuary at Pimlico—I afterwards identified the same body there; Alice Staples also identified it.
THOMAS GREET (Police Inspector A). On 17th September I went to 199, Great Portland Street, and there saw the prisoner—I said, "You are Mary Griffith"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a Detective Inspector, and am come to take you into custody, but before telling you what for, I caution you that whatever you say will be given in evidence before the Magistrate; I shall take you into custody on suspicion, of causing the death of your male child by drowning it in the Serpentine on Sunday last"—she said, "I did not do it, I left it with a friend "—she was afterwards taken to the Hyde Park Police-station—she was charged by the Inspector, and the charge was read to her—she was again charged with feloniously causing the death of the child—she said, "I have nothing to say. "
REGINALD TWEED . I am a physician and surgeon, of 55, Upper Brook Street—on Sunday morning, 15th September, I was at the Hyde Park Police-station—I was there shown the body of a male child; I thought it had been dead some few hours, I could not tell exactly—I examined the body—there were no marks of violence on it—it was wet and dressed—I could not then tell how it came by its death—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination on the Tuesday—the body presented all the usual signs of death by drowning; the feet were drawn down and the hands clenched—on opening the chest I found the lungs very much distended and overlapping the heart, which is unusual except in cases of drowning—there was a quantity of frothy fluid in the lungs, and also in the trachea, frothy fluid was also oozing from the nostrils—the lungs when pinched presented a peculiar spongy character, also evidence of
death by drowning—the heart was healthy, the left side was empty and contracted, the right side was gorged with blood; in the stomach there was a quantity of watery fluid, nothing else—in my opinion death was duo to suffocation by drowning—the child was fairly well nourished and very well clothed—it had the appearance of having been fairly well cared for.
Cross-examined. I did not examine the brain the first day—there was nothing abnormal there—children of this age are very subject to convulsions from teething and other causes—I have heard the evidence of the witnesses as to the convulsions—cold might produce them, I don't think it likely; cold followed by a little fever might do so—I have seen children in fits which leave them apparently dead—if the child was believed to be dead when thrown into the water, all the appearances I observed would be discovered; although a perfectly honest belief might exist that it was dead.
Re-examined. Children frequently have fits which leave no post-mortem appearances on the brain.
GUILTY strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of the agitated and weak state in which she was at the time.— , Three Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
821. OSWALD RIDDELL MILES (20) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £140; also an order for £812 10s., with intent to defraud. He received a good character.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
822. GEORGE CHARLES DWYER (20) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of George Meacock and stealing 46 lb. of beef and four tongues. The prisoner having stated in the hearing of the Jury that he was guilty of the stealing only, they found a verdict of
GUILTY of Larceny. He received a good character, and his master agreed to take him back.— Three Days' Imprisonment.
823. LOUIS MICHAEL SIMON and ALFRED ILLINGWORTH , Stealing in 1886 two engravings, the property of George Hollings. In another Count the prisoners were charged, with FREDERICK DEANE , with stealing a clock; and in another Count Simon and Illingworth with stealing a hearthrug of the said George Hollings; and also with receiving the said goods.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted: MR. BESLEY appeared for Illingworth and Deane,
and MR. FILLAN for Simon.
GEORGE HOLLINGS . I am a hamster, and am now living at Brighton—in June, 1886, I had chambers at 1, Garden Court, Temple, which I closed at the end of June or the beginning of July, in consequence of illhealth—the prisoner Illingworth was my clerk, and had the key—the chambers were closed for about eighteen months, till February, 1888—Illingworth continued in my employ down to Christmas, 1886, and I paid him his wages during that time, and it was his
duty to go there to get the letters from time to time when he was able, but he was ill during September, October, and November, 1886—among other property there I had a timepiece, two engravings, and a hearthrug—I knew Simon twenty years bef have befriended him more than once, and got him situations, and he performed Illingworth's duty when he was ill, and I presume had the key of my chambers—Illingworth was also in the service of another barrister—on September 8th Simon applied to me, and I employed him in the office of Agriculture, of which my brother was Editor—at the end of October, 1886, Illingworth was ill, and I had not seen him since August, but I told Simon I was very anxious as to the clock in my chambers, whether it was safe from damp, as I had suffered very much in health from the damp of the chambers—he said that Illingworth and he had moved it from the large room into the clerk's room, and there was no damp there—I did not see Illingworth till the end of November, 1886, when I told him what Simon had told me, and he said there was no damp in the small room—he left my employ at the end of the year, but I employed him in the newspaper office about March or April, 1887—I spoke to him several times about the timepiece, and he always told me it was quite safe and free from damp in the small room—I don't think he was in the habit of going to the chambers at that time; he always represented that he had lost the key—he wrote to me for my key, and I gave it to him; so I had none—he had my key in 1887—my brother visited the chambers first; that was in November, 1886—I did not go there from the end of June, 1886, to February, 1888—I then found the small room open, the place in disorder; the clock, pictures, and timepiece were gone; my drawers had been opened, and the contents strewed about the room; and letters, documents, and a great many things were missing—I communicated with the police at once—Deane acted as cleaner of the chambers—I think he came in May, 1886, and remained till the chambers were closed in June or July—he was employed by Illingworth—I had no conversation with him about the chambers—I applied at the Mansion House in February, 1888, for a warrant against Simon, but did not obtain it—I then looked out for him, and gave him in custody on the 19th August this year—I had only seen him twice before that, once at the Bankruptcy Court, when I endeavoured to give him in custody, but he disappeared—I met him afterwards at the Law Courts, and he disappeared again—August, 1889, was the first opportunity I had of giving him in custody—I then went to the station, where Simon said that he pledged the timepiece, but with my authority, and that he gave me the whole of the proceeds—that was false; I never gave anyone authority to pledge any of the articles mentioned in the indictment, or received any of the proceeds—while I was at the policestation Illingworth came in, and I gave him in custody—the prisoners sent for Deane when they were at Bridewell Station—he came, but I don't think he made any statement—I did not give him in custody—about October, 1886, Deane met me in Coventry Street, and said he was in great distress, and asked me to assist him; I had no silver, but I sent him 5s.—I requested my brother to go to the chambers early in November, 1886—he made a communication to me, and I wrote to Deane to come and see me—he did not come, but he wrote this letter—it is not dated but the post-mark is November 22nd, 1886 (This was from Deane
and stated on his solemn word that Simon had the key; that the door was locked to prevent the articles getting damp, and that he thought Mr. Hollings had the key)—about the date of that letter I told him that the door was locked, and I could not get the key, and I inquired about the things inside and the damp—he told me that the clock and the other things mentioned were inside the room—I think that was after I received the letter—after February, 1888, he informed me that he had assisted to carry the clock from the chambers to the pawnbroker's; the pawnbroker's assistant and he managed to carry it, though it weighed about 1 cwt.—he said that he took it by Simon's instructions, who went with him to the pawnbroker's, and it was pledged—he did not know what sum Simon had received upon it, but he had received 2s., part of the proceeds, I think he said, for assisting to carry it—he assured me of his innocence, and I called him as a witness before the Alderman—he said that he would tell the truth—I proceeded against Illingworth and Simon before Alderman Lusk, who dismissed the case, much to my surprise—and last Session I preferred a voluntary bill against the three prisoners—I applied for a copy of the depositions, but they would not supply me with one—after he had given his evidence I preferred a bill against him.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Illingworth was with me eight or nine years, and left at the end of 1886—he came to me with an excellent character, and I always found him honest and trustworthy—I gave Simon in custody after I had been refused a warrant at the Mansion House—he was taken to Bow Street, having been taken in custody in the Strand; from there we went to Bridewell Police-station—Illingworth had not arrived there then; I told the inspector that I had to give another person in custody, and would at once go to the Temple to do so—that was before I saw Illingworth—I had applied for a warrant against him at the Mansion House by letter on March 16th, 1888—I did not attend—I will swear Illingworth did not say that he could prove that I gave Simon authority to make pledges, nor did I, upon that, say, "I shall give him in custody"—the inspector did not say, "You should be careful, Mr. Hollings, about giving Illingworth in custody"—I was before the Magistrate next day, the 29th—I believe I was examined that day, my cross-examination was postponed, and "there was a remand for a week—Illingworth was on his own recognisances; I was not cross-examined—Deane was called—on the case being dismissed, I said, "I claim to be bound over under the Vexatious Indictments Act"—I think you made the allegation that I was a bankrupt, but it was not true—I did not hear Sir Andrew Lusk say that the case would not hold water—I do not know how many compositions with my creditors I have made; one was not so small as sixpence in the £, nor did I fail to pay even that—there was a judgment against me on which I was security for a large sum—I do not think there was any other, or any County-court judgments or writs—I did not meet Illingworth in any public-houses or in any back streets (The witness's examination in bankruptcy on 4th October, 1888, was here produced)—I have paid all my creditors in full—I daresay I said, "I have had no income for the last two years"—I said, "It is about two years since I made any money"—Thresher and Glenny supplied me with goods before I was married—I don't think I owed them a penny at the time I was examined—I owed Illingworth nothing when he left my service, I was not £15 in arrear—I owed Smith, a
jeweller, some money—I did not owe Deane a penny—when I met him in Coventry Street he requested me to assist him—I did not do so because I had not change, but I sent him 5s.—he asked me for my castoff clothes, but they were gone from my chambers—I received this letter afterwards, in which he says: "Many thanks for your letter of yesterday, with Post-office order for 5s., now leaving a balance, including last week, of 6s. "—I wrote to him to come and see me, and said, "What do you mean by making a claim of 6s., I don't owe you anything"—not only Deane, but the other two were always begging—Deane knew my address at the club—I went to live in Cambridge two years ago, and then went to Wimbledon—I did not state in the Bankruptcy Court that I was entirely dependent upon my wife, but it was so—the Middle Temple put in an execution for £80—Park, Nelson, and Co. sued me in my absence—I paid that in full—Mr. Cumber is my brother-in-law—it is quite untrue that I told him to buy in my furniture, and claim it if anyone made a claim on it—here is a judgment debt to Allen—this, "James, manager of the Rock Land," was not a judgment—this statement as to the sale of a business in Catherine Street, Strand, was, I suppose, filled up by my solicitor—I cannot account for discrepancies, it was eighteen months' rent at the Middle Temple—Crowder and Lizzard, the solicitors, did not oppose my scheme—my creditors were all paid under the scheme; they desired that those should be the terms—the Registrar said that I was entitled to my order of discharge.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I do not think I was in a state of impecuniosity from 1856 to 1886—I was not able to pay my debts—Simon's father was not a client in my office; he was a wine merchant, and has left a great deal of money—I did not write to a relation about two years ago to say that Simon owed me money, nor did that gentleman resent my writing; on the contrary, he approved of what I did—I have paid Mr. Smith for the wig and gown which I wore in 1866 when I was called to the bar, and they have cleaned my wig several times since—I have never authorised Simon's pawning anything for me; I never authorised him to pawn my wife's opera-glasses, nor did I ask him to redeem them, or to pawn her rings—I may have pawned things since I have been called to the bar; I do not call to mind ever pawning anything in my life, but I may have done so—it is not correct that in 1886 I was being pressed by judgments and writs, and had to leave the Temple, and shut up the place, and that I had to leave my position in Agriculture—Simon was not in my place there—he never pawned things for me in his life—I never went to my chambers from June, 1886, to February, 1888—I was not abroad; I did not go there, because I was ill nearly all the time in the country and in Brighton—I went to the office of Agriculture occasionally—Simon met me once or twice in 1886 at Charing Cross Station—I do not know The Shades, Charing Cross, or the Nell Gwynne, in the Strand—I do not remember meeting Simon at any public-house in my life—I do not know No. 8, next door to the Vaudeville Theatre, and do not remember meeting him there, or at Finch's, opposite Somerset House; nor have I met him promiscuously—a portion of the furniture at the Temple was mine, and a portion Mr. Cumber's—in 1888 there was a judgment against me at the suit of the Society of the Middle Temple—I do not know that Mr. Cumber swore
that all the furniture in my chambers was his; I think he claimed all the things that were seized in 1888—a barrister has to pay dues to the Inn, and has to give security to the Inn—I have always paid ray dues—I think if my security, Mr. John H. Gough, had been sued to pay my dues, he would have told me, and I never heard of it—there were two steel engravings, one was "The Stag at Bay," by Landseer—I did not ask him to pawn that for me—I did not say that he was simply raising some money on it for me—I told the grand jury that the charge was dismissed by Alderman Lusk, and also that I Lad called Deane as a witness—I did not know that the other two were prepared to swear that I had given Simon authority to pawn; on the contrary, I never heard Illingworth tell the inspector that I had given him authority to pawn—Deane said that about a week before the clock was taken away he heard me use the word" pledge" in chambers, and I immediately said that I had not been in chambers—I think I wrote this letter: "My dear Simon,—I am obliged to go home early without seeing you at No. 8, as you mention"—as far as I remember, No. 8 had no reference to any public-house, but I do not remember the letter—I was formerly proprietor of Agriculture, and it was sold to a company—I was not the vendor—I became a director—I sold my interest to my brother-in-law and his wife—I held 20 shares of £5 each—they were given to me—Illingworth was not my clerk then—the company got £500 from a man named Gordon; he did not afterwards say that it was fraudulently got up, nor did Illingworth say the same—the Board of Trade granted an inquiry—it was not then found that there was a fraudulent prospectus—I do not know that Simon aided Mr. Gordon to get the inquiry.
Re-examined. There is no truth in the suggestion that I gave authority to any one of the prisoners to pledge the timepiece, pictures, or rug.
JOHN ALBERT HOLLINGS . I am editor of Agriculture, and am the prosecutor's brother—he was inquiring about a clock in 1888, and saying that his chambers were damp, and Simon said that he and Illingworth had removed the clock and some pictures from the large room to the small room—that was at the end of September or the beginning of October—Simon was then in his employ at the office of Agriculture—later on in the same year I visited the chambers with Illingworth; I went for a parcel; we could not find it, and so I returned; he remarked to me that he and Simon had put the clock and pictures into the small room—I said, "Perhaps the parcel is in the small room"—he said no, he was quite certain nothing was in there except the things he had mentioned—I tried to go in, but it was locked, and he had not the key; I think he said it was at his place, and he had lost it; that was about the end of November, 1886—a few days afterwards the parcel was brought to Catherine Street, and put into my office—I do not know who brought it—Illingworth came into the employ of the newspaper in June or July of the following year—I went to the chambers again with Illingworth a year afterwards, in December, 1887, to look for a box; I could not find it, and the room was still locked; we did not go again—he said that the room contained no box, only the timepiece and pictures, and another thing or two—I afterwards got the box; it was at the porter's lodge—I went with ray brother to Bridewell Station
when Simon was arrested—Illingworth had arrived before I got there—I did not hear either of them make a statement there—I heard Deane say that he had received two shillings out of the proceeds, and he repeated that at the Mansion House.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have no distinct memory of the month Illingworth was away in 1886—I do not say that he was in the chambers in September or October, 1886—I did not say I saw him in October; I said November—it was about the end of November that I went to the chambers with him—I knew that he was acting as clerk to Mr. Richards—I went to Mr. Richards to ask him to come across, and he walked over with me—he said that he and Simon had put the things into the little room—I do not know that the box contained my sister-in-law's dresses—I am not aware that I have ever sworn affidavits to prevent summary judgments against my brother—I have not compounded—I have not had to go away for weeks and weeks for fear of judgments—I have had several County-court judgments against me—I have never agreed to pay £1 a month by instalments, to prevent my going to prison for contempt—I have paid a debt off by instalments of £2 a month, and that is all I owe; it was over £60—I was formerly the Editor of the Farming Home—I was not a party to turning Agriculture into Charles Eglington and Co., Limited—I know nothing about my brother's affairs.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I do not know whether Simon's name was on the door of the chambers at Garden Court—I know that the Board of Trade has held an inquiry as to the bona fides of Eglington and Co., Limited, but I never heard that Simon and Illingworth got it instituted.
EDWARD GREVILLE . In 1886 I was assistant to Dobree and Co., pawnbrokers, of the Strand—on 20th August, 1886, a timepiece was pledged with me for £2 in the name of William Simmonds, 2, Garden Court, Temple—I do not recognise Simon—I know Deane by sight—it was a very heavy clock, and he asked someone to come over and help him to carry it; I went, and we carried it between us—I think someone came afterwards and had the £2, but I don't recollect—the police came to me in August—I am still in the same employment, but the business is being carried on by another person—the clock was sold at Debenham and Storr's on 19th October, 1887, as an unredeemed pledge.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I did not, when I fetched the dock, see a notice up to apply at Mr. Richards' chambers, 1, Mitre Court—this was three years ago.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I went to the same address as is on the ticket, No. 1 or 2, Garden Court—I do not recollect seeing Simon's name on the door-post—it was in the daytime—Deane and I carried the clock quite openly; but I suppose I took a bag, I do not recollect.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. They were not redeemed, and were sold with other goods, so that I do not know what they fetched.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. We keep no record of pledges under 10s.—I do not know how it was found out that the pictures were pawned about that time—my employers are not here; they have sent me with the book (produced).
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Police Sergeant). I had charge of this inquiry in February, 1888, and saw Illingworth, who spoke of a rug which he said he had taken home to his house to preserve it, as it was getting spoiled—he spoke about Mr. Hollings and Simon understanding one another—I made inquiries about the clock, and saw Deane, who said that Simon pledged the clock, and he took it to the pawnbroker's; he told me the name, and I traced it—I applied at the Mansion House for a warrant against Simon, and was refused.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I first made inquiries on February 22nd, 1888—I found Illingworth acting as a clerk in the Temple; I have known him by sight some years—he did not say that Mr. Hollings told him he might take the rug home and preserve it; I was not asked to get it—the impression on my mind is that he said that Mr. Hollings was so hard up that with Simon's assistance ho was raising money on pledges—I reported to Mr. Hollings before July 25th; I went with him to apply for a warrant on 25th February—up to that time there was no application for a warrant against Illingworth—Deane attended with us at the Mansion House to swear the information as to the warrant—he gave me the time and the pawnshop.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. It was before I applied for a warrant that he said Mr. Hollings was hard up, and raising money on pledges—after the warrant was refused I went with Mr. Hollings to Smith and Slows, a stationer's in Upper Thames Street; he was going to give Simon in custody, but when we got there we found it was not the Simon he wanted—he did not give me instructions to look for him; the matter dropped—I do not remember seeing Simon from time to time afterwards—I think his name was written on the lintel at 1, Garden Court; I think I reported that to the chief clerk, and that is why the warrant was not granted.
CHARLES BRYANT (City Detective). I went into Bridewell Station when Mr. Hollings was preferring the charge, and saw Simon there—Illingworth said, "You had better be very careful, Mr. Hollings, who you charge"—I know nothing about the case; I only put Illingworth into the dock.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I heard it said that Simon had acted with Hollings' authority in pledging—Illingworth came there to give information to the inspector—I went for Deane; Simon told me where I could find him—when Deane came he was not charged.
JOHN GLASS TROTTER . I am assistant clerk to the Lord Mayor, at the Mansion House—I took notes of the evidence of Frederick Deane—these are my notes. (In this evidence Deane stated he was employed by Mr. Hollings to keep his chambers clean; that in August, 1886, he and the pawnbroker's assistant removed the clock to Mr. Dobree's, as Simon had told him before that he had better pledge it, giving him to understand that he had Mr. Hollings' sanction; and that Simon was not present, but his name was on the door.)
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Deane did not sign that, because Sir Andrew Lusk dismissed the case—he said, "You never told me you had been bankrupt; I thought you were a barrister; I have been led astray; the case will not hold water."
The Recorder considered that there was no case against ILLINGWORTH and DEANE.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FILLAN called HENRY WILLIAMS (City Police Inspector). On 19th August, at 2. 15, Mr. Hollings gave Simon into my custody—while I was taking the charge, Illingworth came in to know what was the matter, and I said that he was given in custody for stealing a clock and other things—he said, "Oh, we have been pledging things for Mr. Hollings"—I said, "How do you know?''—he said, "I have had business to do with him "—Mr. Hollings had an appointment, and desired to leave the station—I said, "You have given this man in custody, let me go on with the charge and finish that previous to your leaving the station"—he then referred to a man named Deane, who he said was a witness on his behalf—I said, "Can you find that man?"—he said, "Yes; he is a waiter "—he left the station, although I requested him to stop—he said he would be back in three-quarters of an hour—I told him I had no right to keep the prisoner there for three-quarters of an hour deprived of his liberty—he left the station, and promised to return at 3. 25, but I think he was a little later—I think Illingworth came in while Mr. Hollings was away, and said that they had authority to pledge the clock, and that Mr. Hollings had been bankrupt—I said that that had nothing to do with the charge—after Mr. Hollings returned some conversation passed—he then said, "I shall also charge this man, "pointing to Illingworth—I said, "What with? he has been here some little time, and therefore I should consider the matter before I gave him into custody"—he said, "I shall charge him," and he was placed in the dock—in the meantime Deane was sent for and came, and said that he assisted in removing the clock to the pawnbroker's, and he believed at that time that they were authorised to pledge it for Mr. Hollings—I said to Mr. Hollings, "How was it, when you applied for a warrant at the Mansion House, it was not granted?"—he said, "They did not grant the warrant; they said that I could have a summons''—I said, "How is it you did not take the summons, and now you give this man in custody?"—he said, "I don't know how it was"—he produced his brother then, who said that he and Mr. Hollings were told by the prisoners that the clock and property were in the adjoining room, and when they found out it was not there that altered the case—I then took the charge; no charge was made against Deane, he was to appear at the Police-court as a witness.—SIMON— NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 23rd, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
825. EDWARD JAMES AMOS (46) and THOMAS VERNON , Stealing three waterproof driving capes, within six months three other capes, and within six months six waterproof mantles, the goods of Abraham Montague Wartski, their master, to which AMOS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted. LUIGH PERROTTI. I am an ice-cream merchant, at 94, Bishopsgate Street Without—I know the prisoners as often coming singly to my shop; I did
not know their names—on Friday, 20th September, just after two p. m., Vernon called, and said, "If a man brings a parcel here for me take it, I shall call in the night for it"—a booking-office of the Great Northern Railway is near my shop—in the evening a railway man, dressed in uniform, called after seven o'clock and gave me a brown paper parcel similar to this—I put it behind the counter—after nine o'clock the same evening I was standing at my shop door, and saw Vernon pass—I said, "The parcel you have told me of is inside "—he said, "All right, I will call in the morning"—he walked away—Detective Abbott and Mr. Wartski called next day just before one o'clock—the parcel was still behind my counter; Vernon had not called for it—Mr. Wartski and Abbott opened it; it contained something that Wartski said was his property—I gave it up to him, and it was taken away—there was no name nor label on the brown paper—to the best of my belief Dell is the railway man who brought it—I had never taken parcels for either of the prisoners before.
Cross-examined by Vernon. You did not say on Friday, "There is a parcel coming here; would you mind it for Mr. Amos?"—you said it was for you.
ALBERT ARTHUR DELL . I am a messenger in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company, at the booking-office, Bishopsgate Street Without, next door to Mr. Wartski—I have seen the prisoners frequently when they have been in our office with goods purporting to come from Mr. Wartski—on Friday, 20th September, between three and four o'clock, Amos came, and said something to me—he brought in about four parcels, three with labels and addresses, to be despatched by railway—I signed for them—the fourth parcel had no name or address on it; it was about the same size and weight as this; I should say this was the same parcel—in consequence of what Amos said about it I put it on one side—in the course of the afternoon I go downstairs to the kitchen to get my tea, and while I am away Rogers looks after the office, unless he is sent out; someone is always on duty there—after I had finished tea I came up to the booking-office again—I then met Rogers, who made a statement to me—I did some of my duties, and ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards I took the parcel to Perrotti's, 94, Bishopsgate Street, and gave the parcel to him—as far as I can judge it was the same parcel that Amos had brought between three and four, and that is this parcel, to the best of my belief—there is a cloak-room ac the Great Eastern Railway, Bishopsgate Station; I have taken several parcels for Amos there, and booked them for him, to be left till called for—I don't remember Vernon bringing any in—I did it to oblige Amos—I gave him the ticket, and he paid me—they were not booked in our office-book.
BENJAMIN GEORGE ROGERS . I am a parcels porter, in the service of the Great Northern Railway Company—I am in the same office as Dell—I knew Vernon by his being employed next door, at Wartski's—on Friday, 20th September, I was in the office while Dell was having tea downstairs—Vernon came in and said, "The parcel you have in here, send down to the ice-cream shop "—I said, "All right"—I was not in when Amos brought the four parcels—I first saw the brown paper parcel he alluded to when I came back from dinner; it was lying down against the counter; nothing was with it—it had no name or label on it—it was a similar parcel to this—I gave directions to Dell to take it, and he left the booking-office with it—I have never left parcels at Perrotti's before for
the prisoners—they have both brought parcels into me before, without names and addresses on them—Vernon has done so, and has given me instructions to send them down to the Great Eastern Railway cloak-room—I have known Vernon about three and a half years—this is the only parcel I have taken to the ice-cream shop—I have take a them to the booking-office, at Vernon's instructions; I think I had one ticket; Dell had them—I could not say who I had the parcels from—I have known Vernon three and a half years intimately, by being neighbours, and by his coming in and out with parcels—I have seen him in the Court since he was sent for trial, and just passed the word of day to him—I saw him every day; we never had a glass together; I don't drink.
Cross-examined. I cannot recollect the times now when you brought parcels without labels to my office—I remember your bringing goods in from Mr. Wartski on Friday night, for you to send boys off with on Saturday morning, when you did not open the premises—they had no labels on—I did not notice they had labels tied inside to prevent people seeing who were our customers.
Re-examined. When a parcel is brought in to, be sent by railway we book it and forward it by rail to the address—the prisoners have left several parcels at one time without labels on Friday night, as they did not open on Saturdays, and on Saturday morning the boy would call for them—I did not know the address was tied inside—I have heard it for the first time.
ABRAHAM MONTAGUE WARTSKI . I carry on partnership with another at 98, Bishopsgate Street Without, as wholesale manufacturers of waterproofs and driving-aprons—I employ fifty or sixty hands on an average—Amos had been a clerk in my service about six or seven years—I had the greatest confidence in him—Vernon was my porter, and had been in my service seven or eight years—I had the fullest possible confidence in him too—I had a good many losses that I Could not account for in my business, and in consequence I applied to the City Police, and Detective Sergeant Abbott was sent to me—on Friday, 20th September, Abbott made a communication to me, and on Saturday morning, 21st, about twelve o'clock, I should say, I went with him to Perrotti's shop, which is about fifty yards from my premises, on the same side of the road—some conversation passed between Perrotti and the detective—Perrotti showed me a parcel, which I opened in the shop, and found to contain these six ladies' waterproof mantles (produced), value about £7 10s. wholesale—I am principally wholesale; I occasionally retail to persons who come on recommendations—Amos had no authority from me to take parcels and sell them; Vernon had no authority to take them from my premises—Abbott and I met Vernon on the road—he went with us to Perrotti's shop—Abbott told him the charge—Vernon saw these articles, and made a statement in the shop—after the statement I went with Abbott to Amos's house, which we searched, and found in it property belonging to me—on the following Monday, 23rd September, I went to Guildhall—Vernon saw me in court—Abbott gave sufficient evidence to justify a remand—after that I received a message from Vernon through his father—I went to the cells with Abbott, and Vernon made a statement in my hearing—Abbott wrote it from his dictation; Vernon signed it—this is it—(Read) "I, Thomas Vernon, say some time ago (about three months) I went
with Amos to a man named Tate, Montagu Square, down some mews, driver of a brougham, employed by (I think) name of Woolf. We took a parcel; what it contained I do not know; it was on a Saturday, after two p. m. Amos carried the parcel down the mews. Some time after (about a fortnight) we went again. He (Amos) sent me down the same mews with a parcel containing three drab Wigan driving capes, which I received 36s. for. When I came out I said to him (Amos), 'What are these you have just sent me down with?' He (Amos) said, 'It's all right; it is what my missis makes up. 'I said to him, 'Are you sure?' He said, 'Yes.' I said, 'Where did you buy the stuff?' He (Amos) said, 'It is allright; I buy it at Moseby's. 'He gave me 2s. on each occasion. About ten months ago I went with him (Amos) to Praed Street, Paddington. I carried a parcel for him, which I believe to be aprons (about six). He went to a man name Preece, jobmaster, Praed Street. He took the parcel in, and was in there about fifteen minutes, and then came out. I said to him (Amos), 'Was they aprons?' He said, 'Yes'. I said, 'Where did you get them from?' He said, 'The missis makes them up;' and he gave me 2s. 6d. That was on a Saturday afternoon.—T. VERNON, September 23rd, 1889. "—I went to Tate, and had a conversation with him—subsequently he sent me these Wigan driving capes belonging to me—I identify them positively—Preece is a jobmaster—I went there with Abbott—I saw his manager, I think Mr. Rowles—subsequently goods were shown to me, from which I selected these two carriage aprons and a coat of my manufacture—I identify those—the three Wigan driving capes at a wholesale house would be 25s. or 27s. 6d. each; £4 2s. 6d. for the three—this other cape would be 18s. 6d.—the ladies' mantles and three Wigan driving capes are perfectly new—the others have been in use.
THOMAS ABBOTT (City Detective). Mr. Wartski communicated with our office, and in consequence I was sent to watch the premises—I had watched Vernon on Friday—on Saturday, 21st February, I went to Mr. Wartski's warehouse, and with him went to Perrotti's shop, and examined the brown paper parcel, and identified the goods—then Mr. Wartski left the ice-cream shop to go to the warehouse, and as he left the shop he met Vernon coming towards us—I said, "From what has come to my knowledge there is a parcel in No. 94, containing ladies' waterproof mantles; what do you know about it?"—he made no reply—I took him in the shop, and he was shown the parcel, which was on the counter—I said, "I am a police officer; this parcel has been left by a porter from the Great Northern, who says you called to have it directed here "—that was on the Friday—he said, "Yes; Amos, a clerk in the employ of Mr. Wartski, told me to call at the booking-office next door to our place, and directed that this parcel should be left at the ice-cream shop, No. 94, which I did. On the Friday I called, and said to Perrotti, 'If there is a parcel brought here for me, please take it in' "—he was taken to the police-station, and charged by Wartski—I went to Amos's house, and searched it, and found property belonging to Mr. Wartski there, and Amos was taken into custody, and brought before a Magistrate on the 23rd—after I gave my evidence, to justify a remand, I and Mr. Wartski went down to the cells, and saw Vernon; Mr. Wartski said to him, "Do you want to see me, Tom?"—Vernon said, "Yes, sir; I want to make a statement to you "—I said, "Before you make it, you will have to say it in my presence, and
I must caution you that whatever you say must be used in evidence against you "—he said, "Have you pencil and paper?"—I said, "Yes "—then I wrote out this statement from his dictation—I read it to him, and he signed it as correct—I went to Tate—he produced on the remand at the Police-court these three drab Wigan driving capes—this black waterproof and this coat were produced on the remand by Rowles, Preece's representative—Tate and Rowles were called as witnesses at the Police-court, and then produced the articles as having been sold by Amos and Vernon to them.
HENRY TATE . I am coachman to Mr. Woolf, at Upper Montagu Mews—I have known Amos between five and six years—he has sold me fifty or sixty mackintoshes and capes—15s. was the ordinary price I paid for capes—Vernon brought these last three Wigan driving capes to my mews—I had seen him several times before with Amos, when mackintoshes and capos were sold to me—I had given Amos an order for five capes, I believe; there were two more to come—I had agreed to no price—Vernon brought these three in August—he said, "I have brought you those three capes, Mr. Tate, that Mr. Amos has brought up "—I asked him what size they were—he said two forty-eights and a forty-six—those sizes are not usually known among coachmen—I looked at them, and asked him to ask Mr. Amos to let me have the other two—he said, "All right; I will tell Mr. Amos; I know he has got some spare material, and I daresay Mrs. Amos will be able to make them up "—I paid him 36s. for the three—before I saw Amos I frequently bought secondhand capes—these were new; we considered them not very cheap at 15s.—I am not aware that they were valued at 25s. wholesale—I considered them cheap at 12s.—I had no receipts—Amos gave me his name and address—I only knew Vernon by coming by; Amos told me he was his man, in Vernon's hearing; Vernon said nothing to it; it was very seldom he said anything when they came together—I paid the money to Vernon.
JOHN ROWLES . I am manager to John Ambrose Preece, jobmaster, of Pont Street, Belgravia—he has a business and a job-yard at Praed Street, Paddington, of which I am manager—I have known Vernon four or five years—I have not seen him for more than a year—I cannot say when I last received any article from him; I had some receipts—I know Amos.
Vernon, in his defence, said that he never took any parcel from the prosecutor's premises with intent to commit felony or larceny; and that he never took a parcel out without a labels except under MR. WARTSKI'S instructions.
NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoners for conspiracy, upon which no evidence was offered as against Vernon. AMOS.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. The Court commended the conduct of Detective Abbott.
MR. COLAM Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted. ISABELLA TUCKER. I am a widow, of 32, Tudor Road, Hackney—on Friday, 19th July, I went to bed about eleven, having fastened up my kitchen and house; I went into the kitchen at 12. 15; all was right there then—in the kitchen was a chest where I keep linen, two pairs of boots in a basket, eight sheets, four table-cloths, a pair of gold spectacles, and a pair of common spectacles in a case in the window—this coat was hanging outside the bedroom door; it belongs to Mr. Sinnett, my lodger—this is one of the pairs of boots; they belong to Mr. Flanders—I don't know the prisoner—I saw him on 30th September at the Police-court, where he said, "I have not done this. "
WILLIAM PETER FLANDERS . I am a teacher under the London School Board—I have apartments with Mrs. Tucker—on Friday, 19th July, I went into the country, leaving all my property behind me; this pair of boots and another pair were there; when I returned they were missing—I identify this pair by the shape and by these holes which I made in the tongue to put my laces through—the prisoner was wearing them at the Police-court.
WILLAM KNOTT (Detective J). On Thursday, 1st August, I was at Dalston Police-court—I saw the prisoner wearing these boots—I said, "They answer the description of a pair of boots that were stolen from 32, Tudor Road, and you will be charged with burglary from that address"—he said, "I did not steal the boots; I bought them down Petticoat Lane"—I saw him searched at the station, and from him were taken a number of pawntickets, of which this for this coat is one.
JAMES TINDON . I am assistant to Mr. Isaac Saunders, 27, Hunt Street, Mile End New Town—I produce this coat, pledged with me on 20th July by John Izzard—I have seen the prisoner in our shop, but I cannot swear he pawned this coat.
JOHN NOLLOTH (Police Sergeant J 18). On 20th July, at 10 a. m., I was called to 32, Tudor Road—an entrance had been effected by scaling the back wall, passing by the garden to the back kitchen window, scraping the putty away from the window with a sharp instrument, and then, the putty being hard, the window had been broken, and then the catch had been forced back, and the window opened; it was open at the time I saw it.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I bought these things, and I don't see it is right I should be charged with burglary."
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he bought the boots, and a ticket for the coat in Petticoat Lane.
GUILTY of receiving.— * Ten Months' Hard Labour.
828. JAMES HAMMOND** (36) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the shop of Elijah Hammond, and stealing three overcoats, having been convicted of felony in February, 1880, at this Court, in the name of James Manning.— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
830. FREDERICK JAMES LACKERSTEIN , to two indictments for embezzling money and orders for the payment of money from William Edward Gary, his master.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
Twelfth Session, 1888—89.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the prisoner for indecently assaulting the same person, upon which no evidence was offered.
MR. COLAM Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COLAM Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BYRNE Prosecuted.
JOHN MARTINDALE ELLIS . I live at 3, Denmark Street, Hyde Street, Bloomsbury, and am a piler at Hayes' Wharf—I pile up chests of tea—I have been employed there seven or eight years—I was out on strike with other men—on September 4th a notice was sent out by Messrs. Hayes, offering to take the men back on certain terms—I accepted the offer, with about twenty others—on Thursday, the 6th, I worked up to six p. m., got my wages, and went towards home—I was just entering Tooley Street when I saw a mob of from thirty to fifty, and the prisoner at the head of them—he stepped out and said, "I want your name and address, also the amount of money you have received"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "Never mind what for, you give it to me"—I said, "I decline to tell you "—he said, "You don't go," and turned round to the mob and said, "Lads, don't let him go; this is the b——y blackleg "—he put his left hand on my right shoulder, and the crowd drew close—at that moment a police inspector came up—the crowd looked very savage; one man put up his hand, and I thought he was going to push me backwards—the inspector pushed the prisoner on one side, and said, "How dare you molest this man!" and instructed a constable to see me safe on to London Bridge,
which he did—I did not go to work next day, because I was afraid of the mob; I thought I should get ill-used.
Cross-examined. It was in consequence of the mob and the prisoner together that I did not go to work on the 6th—I was not afraid of him single-handed—he said nothing as to what would happen to me if I went to work, or that he would get anybody to do anything to me—I did not go to work next day, because a man who I met confirmed my opinion that it was not safe to go; it was not in consequence of anything the prisoner said or did—he seemed to be the moving spirit—he did not prevent my going to work because the strike came to an end—he seemed very excited—I would not say that he had not had a little drink—I was always on friendly terms with him; I worked with him—I agree that it is a good thing that the strikes are over—the prisoner was not the cause of some of the men going back—I know Erridge; if he says that some of the men went back on the prisoner's recommendation I should not deny it.
GEORGE DICKENSON (Police Inspector M). On Thursday evening, 5th September, I was on duty at Hayes' Wharf, and shortly after six o'clock I saw a crowd assembling in Tooley Street; there were about fifty—I forced my way through them, and saw Ellis in the centre, held by the prisoner by his right shoulder—the crowd was very excited—I said, ''What are you stopping that man for?"—the prisoner spoke, but I did not know what he said in consequence of the noise—two constables came up; I sent one one way with Ellis, and the other stopped with me with the prisoner—I asked him his name and address, which he gave, and I let him go—he met me next morning in Tooley Street, and said, "I hope you won't take any notice of what I did yesterday: I had had a drop of drink, and I am very sory "—I said, "It is not in my hands. "
The RECORDER considered that there was not enough to amount to intimidation.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GEOGEGHAN Prosecuted, and MR. TODD Defended Marsam.
HENRY HAMILTON LAWLESS . I am a barrister, and have chambers at 2, Harcourt Buildings, with Mr. Lancaster, another barrister—Mrs. Jones, the wife of the prisoner Jones, was my laundress, and is so still—I have the most implicit belief in her honesty—Jones used to come there to assist his wife—there was a pedestal writing-desk on one side of the window, in the drawers of which I kept some silver plate and some diamond earrings, which belonged to my mother, a diamond ring value twenty guineas, and some very small diamond shirt studs—on 12th August I came back from the Middlesex Sessions and went up to my chambers, and noticed that the water-closet window on the landing had been displaced—if that was taken out it would admit Jones—there is an outer door and an inner door, which you open with a key—I was alarmed, not knowing whether there was anybody inside, and I brought Mr. Lancaster, and found the chambers disturbed—drawers which had been locked had been opened with a key—the plate and jewellery were gone, but the cases were left—one stud was lying on the floor, some cigars were gone—I afterwards
missed some clothing—I went to the station, and Sergeant Bryan went back with me and examined the premises—he and I then went to 7, Dean Street, Fetter Lane, where Mrs. Jones lives—we saw her son leaving the house, and going into Fetter Lane again I saw a cab standing, and the prisoner Jones in it with another man—that was about 5. 30—the cab drove off, and we could not overtake it—that was Monday—the cabman called on me on Wednesday, and have Bryan a contract note and a receipt for a pawnticket, and I went to Mr. Blackburn, a pawnbroker, of 271, Caledonian Road—the pawnbroker showed me this diamond ring, which is part of the property stolen from my chambers—some time afterwards the prisoners were arrested at Chatham, and brought here—there was one remand at the Mansion House—I saw both prisoners on the first occasion; they were not admitted to bail—on the second hearing my attention was directed to the coat, waistcoat, and trousers he was wearing; they were mine—a pawnbroker from Chatham showed me the upper parts of two earrings, two balls and pendants—they could be unlocked, and made into one, two, or three, separated into two pairs—I recognised them—the value of the property taken away was about £50—on the day week after the prisoners were committed for trial, the postman brought me a parcel with all my silver plate in it—two shirt studs are missing, and the remaining portion of the earrings—I have never seen Marsam to my knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. TODD. I do not identify Marsam as the man who was in the cab—I cannot swear that he was not. Jones. I own I was in the cab with Marsam.
JOHN THOMAS BIRD . I am cabdriver, 9820, and live at 6, Britannia Street, Gray's Inn Road—on 12th August I saw the prisoners at Waterloo Station about 5. 30 p. m.—Marsam engaged my cab to go to Victoria Station for Brighton—immediately after they got in they asked me to pull up at the first public-house, and asked me to come in and have a drink—I did so—they then said, "Drive to Fetter Lane"—I did so, and Jones got out there, leaving Marsam in the cab—Jones went into a public-house, and came out in a few minutes, and told me to drive to Finch's, in Holborn; I did so—they then told me to drive to Dean Street, Holborn, where Marsam got out, and then they told me to drive to Victoria, but they asked me to pull up on the road—I then drove to Fetter Lane, and then to 5, Staple Inn Buildings, where Marsam got out, and stopped some time away—I asked Jones where Marsam lived; he told me, and I went and knocked at Marsam's door—he told me he would be down in a few minutes—he came down, and there was a dispute about the fare—I left a man in charge of my cab, and took them to the station, where Marsam gave his name "Charles Bartholomew Marsam," 5, Staple Inn Buildings—Jones gave no address—they were allowed to go—I then went back to my cab, and found in it an envelope containing a contract ticket of a diamond ring, pawned for £8 at Mr. Blackman's, Caledonian Road—I took it to Snow Hill Police-station the same evening, and gave it to the police—I have no doubt the prisoners are the men.
Cross-examined by MR. TODD. Marsam was dressed as he is to-day—we visited four public-houses, and I had four drinks, for which the prisoners paid between them—they were both drunk—the name Marsam gave at the station was correct.
Re-examined. They were not so drunk that the police detained them—
they were drunk when they hailed my cab—I drank whisky, and they had stout and whisky.
HENRY LUCAS . I am assistant to Mr. Blackman, a pawnbroker, of 271, Caledonian Road—I produce the diamond ring identified by Mr. Lawless-it was pawned by Marsam on August 12th, at five or ten minutes past four, for £8, in the name of Charles Bartholomew.
Cross-examined by MR. TODD. I am quite sure that is the full name he gave—he represented his father as a Royal Academician, and asked if I knew him—I am not certain whether he was dressed as he is now, I should say not—I have no doubt of his identity.
Re-examined. I asked him if the ring was his; he said he bought it six weeks ago at Attenborough's, in Chancery Lane; I wrote his address on this ticket, 24, Osnaburg Terrace, Regent's Park; he said that his father, Mr. Bartholomew, of the Royal Academy, wanted the £8 to clear some pictures from the Academy—I daresay the ring cost £20 retail.
WILLIAM EDWARD RENDAL RANDALL . I am a pawnbroker, of Chatham—on 21st August these portions of two diamond earrings were pawned with me for £1 10s. by a person resembling Marsam, but dressed more swellish—I produce the ticket—I asked him his name—he said, "John Mason, 41, Broad Street, Oxford Street, London," and that they were his wife's property, and he had redeemed them on Saturday, as he was at the Opera House—he had the appearance of a theatrical—the ticket was found in a cab, and they communicated with me.
Cross-examined by MR. TODD. I should not have taken them in if he had appeared as he does now.
CHARLES BRYAN (City Detective). The prosecutor communicated with me on 12th August, and on the 14th I received a warrant for the prisoners' arrest—on 25th September I went to Chatham—I afterwards arrested the prisoners at Maidstone, and read the warrant; they made no reply—Marsam was not dressed as he is now, nor was he at the Mansion House—Mr. Lawless identified the clothes he had on there, and the clothes he is now wearing his father brought to him—his clothes had been searched at Chatham, and the property found in them was handed to me—a ticket for a pair of opera glasses, which do not belong to Mr. Lawless, was found on Jones—the ticket of the diamond earrings and 10s. in silver was found on Marsam.
Marsam's statement before the Magistrate. " I did not know the things were stolen; they were given to me; had I known they were stolen I should never have pledged the ring. "
Jones, in his defence, stated that he and Marsam met a lady and gentleman in Holborn on 12th August, about three o'clock, who took them to King's Cross, to a public-house, where he undid a parcel containing the clothes, and sold them to Marsam for 6s.; that he then got Marsam to pawn a diamond ring, as he had to get some pictures out, and Marsam pawned if, and gave the gentleman the money and ticket, and the lady went on before.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 24th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MARY MAY INNES . I am manageress of the Army Floral Association, 8, Eccleston Street; Mrs. Mary Scribner is the proprietress—on Tuesday, 17th September, Simcox came into the shop—he asked what the price of a cross would be—I said it depended on the size and the kind of flowers he wanted—he was about five minutes in the shop discussing the matter—I took him down to the back to show him some specimens—I had sent my assistant out—he said he would let me know, and went away—he had hardly left the door when Walker came in and asked the price of two large plants—we had a conversation—he gave no order—he said he would let me know, and left—he was only there a very short time—it is shop and office in one—next day I was alone in the office, when I heard the bell ring, and looking up I saw Simcox sitting in a trap outside at the door—I did not see who rang the bell—I went as far as the door, and asked what he wanted—he bent forward, and asked if the cross was ready—I said, "No, you have not given me the order"—he asked how long I should be making one—I said it would be ready about half-past five—he said that would be too late, because of last post going out—I said I would let him have it about five—he said that would do; the lady would go as far as £1 or £1 5s.—I asked how long he would be letting me know—he said he would be gone about ten minutes—he pointed out across to another shop, and asked if that was another (florist's he meant)—I said no, a greengrocer's—then he drove off—he was alone in the trap—he went on talking to me outside; I could not hear inside, the traffic was so great—I ran inside to the inner office and got my hat, and came out again on the pavement—when he asked me about the time, I went in and got my watch, and came out and told him what time I could let him have the cross—as he drove off I turned to go into the office; I saw someone passing the office window, and walking in a suspicious way—I believe that was Walker—I looked in and found the cash-box gone, and I ran out again directly—the box was on a chair near the wall in the inner office, and was closed, but not locked—it was safe when I heard the bell ring; it contained £7 10s., I believe, keys, and memoranda—I went out and spoke to a policeman immediately—I did not see Simcox again till I went to identify him; he did not come back to tell me about the cross, nor did Walker come to tell me about the plants—I believe I was asked to identify them at the police-station on the Saturday—they were with several men—I identified Simcox immediately—I asked whether Walker might turn his back; I was morally certain I knew him by his back, and I recognised him in the second police-station by his face—I am morally certain they are both the same men—I identified them at two separate times, not both together—I have not seen the cash-box nor its contents since.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the man who came about the cross before—I did not see the face of the other man, who walked suspiciously—this is a flower shop with no counter, but a table—you go through the hall door into a passage, and then through another door into the shop—if you go along the passage, you can get to a hairdresser's upstairs, but we have nothing to do with that—after passing through the two doors you come to the table—I have a seat by the side of it—the office is the shop—there are flowers and curtains in the window—the place where the table is is very much shaded from the street—it is rather a dark shop
—I am very near-sighted—I said before the Magistrate, "As I was turning my back I saw a man walk in a suspicious way past my shop window; I did not see his face, I saw his back; I cannot say who it was"—I say now to my moral knowledge it was Walker—after I had picked out Simcox at the station I said, "I cannot recognise anyone else"—Walker was among those persons—I asked that he should be allowed to turn his back, and then I said he was the man—I did not see the face of the man who walked in a suspicious way; but I recognised him as the man that came to my shop on Tuesday about plants—I told the Magistrate I was morally certain Walker was the man who passed the window—I said, "I believe "—a week before I said, "I cannot be certain who it was "—I noticed no one among the men very like Simcox; his appearance marked him out from the others—there was no one very much like Walker—I know now all the men they were placed among had been apprehended on a similar charge—I gave information the day I found the cash-box was stolen, and on the third day after I went to the policestation, and identified Simcox.
Re-examined. I went to the station on Saturday, the 27th or 28th, having lost the cash-box on the previous Wednesday, the 25th—(The Court ordered the indictment, which alleged the offence to have been committed on the 17th to he altered as to date, and 25th substituted for 17th)—it was before I asked Walker to turn his back that I said, "I cannot recollect any one else," and I then identified him by his back—looking at him now I believe him to be the man.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective L). I received information with regard to this robbery after the prisoner was in custody, and on 27th September, in company with Sergeant Gray, I arrested Walker about 2. 30 p. m., in St. George's Circus, Southwark—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned in stealing cash-boxes in various parts of the metropolis—he said, "Where is one?"—I said, "You answer the description of a man circulated about three weeks ago by the City police "—he said, "All right, give me a cab "—he was conveyed in a cab to Kennington Road Station—on the following day Mary Innes came to the station—the prisoners were put with six others; we had arrested eight men altogether on suspicion, and did not know which were the men—directly Mary Innes came into the room she seemed attracted to Simcox—she walked up to and identified him—she was turning away, and the inspector said, "You have not looked at the other men"—she looked at the others, and on coming to Walker she stopped in front of him, and asked him to turn round—he did so, and she said, "That is the other man "—he said nothing in my hearing then—he was conveyed to Gerald Road Police-station, where the inspector on duty told him the charge—Walker said to Mary Innes, "Attend to me, madam: When you were at Kennington Road Station did you identify me by my face or my back?"—she said, "By both; I also identify you now by your face"—before 27th September I had seen Simcox and Walker together on two or three occasions within a fortnight.
Cross-examined. All the men among whom the prisoners were placed were taken on suspicion of cash-box robberies, and persons who had lost cash-boxes were brought down from all parts of London to see who were there—when I apprehended Walker I had no personal knowledge of this robbery—I had seen the information—a description of the persons
was circulated—I had no knowledge of the robbery in Eccleston Street, and no description of the thief—I certainly did not apprehend Walker in consequence of any description given by Miss Innes—it is usual when persons are to be identified for the officer in the case to be present in the room, but he is not allowed to speak to any witness; the witnesses see the inspector—I did not hear Miss Innes say anything when she had picked out Simcox, and was asked to pick out another man—I was not near her; I was at the other end of the room altogether—I heard her ask the man to turn round—I did not hear her say, "I cannot identify anyone else"—to the best of my belief Walker said nothing at Kennington Road Station—he said, "You did not recognise me by my face" at Gerald Road—I might have said before the Magistrate that he said that—I paid afterwards, ''They were then taken to Gerald Road Station''—he was brought before the Magistrate on Monday.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective L). On 27th September I saw Gray apprehend Walker—about six hours afterwards I stopped Simcox coming out of a public-house in St. George's Circus—I said, "I am a policeofficer; I shall take you into custody on suspicion of stealing cashboxes"—he said, "All right"—he made a sudden spring and ran off for about a mile—I ran, and eventually caught him in a house called The Pollards, Waterloo Road, concealed behind the back door—I did not see him go into the house, but I heard the door clash—as I went in he held the door up, concealing himself behind it—I heard him breathing, and pulled him out—he said, "I should not have run away, but I did not care to pass the night in a police-station "—I took him to Gerald Road Station, where he was charged with this offence—he said, "I know nothing at all about it"—I found £1 10s. gold, 7s. 6d. silver, and 5d. bronze on him.
Cross-examined. Seven men besides Simcox were apprehended that evening near that public-house, and charged with being concerned in cashbox robberies—I had not heard of this robbery in Eccleston Street when I apprehended Simcox—four of the eight have been discharged, one is in prison for picking pockets, and another is wanted for cash-box robberies—we have found out since that some of the men we discharged are wanted—five plain clothes officers were engaged in the case.
Re-examined. The prisoners are two of the four that were identified; there is no other man in custody charged with this particular cash-box robbery.
WALKER.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
CHARLES ERNEST TURNER . I am a chemist, of 20, Bury Street, Bloomsbury—on the 8th November last year the bell of my shop rang while I was upstairs—I went down, and saw, to the best of my belief, the prisoner in my shop; I could not swear he is the man, but to the best of my belief he is—he asked me to give him half a sovereign for 10s.—I took a half-sovereign from my till, and gave it to him, and he gave me 10s. in silver—he went away, and I went upstairs again—I had only been up
a few minutes when the bell rang again—I went down, and found a cabman standing near the door, with his back to an opening between the window and counter—he spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said I went outside, and found a cab at the house just below—I saw in a cab a person I believe to be the prisoner and the man I had seen just before—he said he had something the matter with his ankle, and he wanted me to give him something for it—he ultimately said he would come back for it—I went back to the shop; the cabman had come out then—five or ten minutes afterwards I found my till was open, and a small box containing a powder and about £1 of silver had gone—I gave information to the police the same evening—on 7th October, at Kennington Policestation, I next saw the man who I believe was the man I saw in my shop—he was with eight or nine others, and I picked him out.
Cross-examined. It was evening when the box was taken—I gave information to the police, with a description of the person—I heard nothing more till 7th October this year—I was not more than a minute or two giving the man the half-sovereign for the change—I had one eye on the man and the other on the money—I have no recollection of ever before seeing him, or the man in the cab—about half an hour earlier that evening I had seen two men looking in my shop window—I have not seen them since—I have no pretence for saying the prisoner was one of them—I cannot say—I saw neither of those two men at Kennington Lane Station—I said there, pointing to the prisoner, "That is the man, I think"—I said to him, "How is your ankle?"—the inspector then told him to walk—I did not tell the inspector that the man who came to my place had something the matter with his ankle; the inspector thought I thought the prisoner was lame, I think—then Walker walked—I did not find anything the matter with his ankle; I did not expect it—I put the question to aid my recollection as to whether he was the man or not—he was placed among other men a second time at another police-station and I picked him out—I said to the Magistrate, "I strongly believe he is the man; I am morally certain he is "—in twelve months I should see a number of persons coming into my shop.
Re-examined. The men I saw at Westminster, and from whom I picked out the prisoner a second time, were a different set to those I saw the first time—I had no means of judging whether the man in the cab had anything the matter with his ankle beyond what he said—it was a hansom cab.
ALFRED NICHOLLS . I arrested Walker on 27th September—I knew of this robbery at the time—when I told him I was going to take him into custody for these robberies, he said, "Where was one?"—I said, "You answer the description of a man circulated three weeks ago by the City police "—I took him to the station in a cab.
NOT GUILTY . SIMCOX*†— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. There was another indictment against Simcox for a similar offence.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
about half-past four, and Sinclair asked for wedding-rings—I showed them twenty-two arranged on a triangular-shaped wire which holds them in the window—they were counted by our engraver, who handed them to me—Sinclair tried on two or three, but said that they were not broad enough, and that they thought the best thing would be for their friend to come and select one for herself, and that she would come on the following Friday—they then left the shop—I immediately counted the rings, and found one missing—it was a 22-carat gold wedding-ring of the value of 20s.—I next saw the prisoners on the 10th at Cloak Lane Police-station; I identified them from among others—I have not the least doubt they are the persons—the rings were taken off the wire and placed on the counter between the two prisoners, and just in front of them both.
ALBERT CHAMBERS . I am engraver to Messrs. Durant and Son, 126, Cheapside—on 2nd October the two prisoners called about four, and Sinclair asked to see some wedding-rings—I fetched twenty-two on a wire, counted them twice, and gave them to Mr. Sleeman—Sinclair examined and tried some on, and none suiting, they left—I heard occasional utterances; I stood at the back of the shop—directly they left I found one was missing—I identified the prisoners at the Police-station from among others; I have not the least doubt about them.
W. J. SLEEMAN (Re-examined). Pend said nothing till Sinclair asked her, and then she said she thought it would be best for a friend to come—Sinclair had suggested that.
The Prisoners, in their defence, said they knew nothing about the matter.
GUILTY .—PEND then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1878, at this Court in the name of Mary Margaret M'Cull.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
JOHN STEPHENS . I live at 1, New Nicholl Street, Spitalfields—on Thursday morning, 28th August, I left my pony, cart, and harness outside Hunt's coffee-shop, Spitalfields, between half-past four and five—when I came out after half an hour it was gone—I did not see it again till about three weeks after, when I went to Maidstone Police-station, where the inspector had it; he also had the prisoner at the station—pony, cart, and harness were worth £15—the cart was a costermonger's barrow, nearly in the shape of a dog-cart—I am certain the pony and cart I saw" at Maidstone were mine.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was either Wednesday, the 28th, or Thursday, the 29th, that I lost it—the pony is about eighteen years old—its knees were sound when you took it away—the barrow was broken, and I had to have it mended—the saddle came home like a bundle of rags—I should have to give £10 for the pony as it was, £5 for the barrow, and 50s. for the harness.
Wrotham—on 1st September, Sunday, I believe, the prisoner came with the pony and cart and some people—I sat on the other side of the common where the hopping people stopped—he turned the pony out in the meadow—on the following Saturday, the 7th, I saw him again with the horse and eart driving some reapers from the farm to Headcorn, shopping—me and my missis went in it and paid 2d. a piece, and he bought food for the pony—on the Tuesday before, the 3rd, he asked me whether I would buy the pony and cart, and I said I had not got any money at present—he offered me the pony and cart for £3 10s., and I said, ''If I can get the money I will pay you on Monday for it"—we went to the shop on Saturday, and he said, "If you pay me 15s. deposit on it, and pay me the rest after the hopping, the pony and cart will be yours "—I was going to pay the rest after the hopping, and Mr. Payne would sign a paper, and I paid him 15s. deposit then—the prisoner drove the pony and cart back to the place we were hopping at, and he left the cart there, and turned the pony out in the meadow—on the Monday, the 9th, I heard something, in consequence of which I spoke to the police—in the Police-court I took possession of the cart.
Cross-examined. You started picking for Mr. Payne on Monday, and I heard you tell him you had lost your pony—you were away for some time that day—I said I would give £2 15s. for the lot—I gave you 15s. at Headcorn, and you bought the boots you have on and a shirt, I believe—you drove yourself on the Sunday to Maidstone, you would not let anyone else drive—you said it was not mine till I paid the balance—you were not in the hop-garden on Monday; when you came back I said I had heard it was not your pony and cart, and I was going to give information to the police—I told the governor, and he spoke to the constable, and I spoke to the constable.
CHARLES TURNER (Kent County Constabulary 281). On 11th September Shorter made a statement to me, in consequence of which I made inquiries—I said to the prisoner, in the parish of East Sutton, near Maidstone, "Can you account for the horse and trap?"—he said, "I bought it from a man of the name of Smith, at Winchester, two years ago"—I took the name and address. "H. Tweed, Shoreditch," from the trap—I told the prisoner I should charge him on suspicion of stealing it—he said, "You will charge me wrongfully "—he had this pistol loaded with ball, and threatened he would do for me—he did not point it at me—I closed with him, and I was about a quarter of an hour before I could overpower him—I took him to Maidstone—he gave me a receipt, which I have since lost—I read it, and know its contents—this is a copy of it: "Bought of Mr. Smith, a pony, harness, and cart, for the sum of £5, January 27th, 1887, at Winchester; witnesses, Mr. Jones and Mrs. Jones.
Cross-examined. Mr. Payne did Hot speak to me—I spoke to you first; after I had seen Shorter I came after you—after I came to you you said, "I am here; if that lot is wanted, you know where to find me "—I said, when I came up to you, "Where is the pony?"—you said, ''Down the meadow "—you told me where the cart was, and that you had given your money to your brother, in answer to my questions—you tussled with me; you did not hurt me—you offered to resist me with the loaded pistol in your hand—you pointed it right fair at me.
stone Cross Police-station, and the prisoner was given into my custody—in reply to the charge he said, "If you say I stole the horse and cart you make a mistake; it was a taller man than me"—I took him to London—on the way he said, "I have had the horse and cart in my possession since 30th August. I have allowed no one else to drive it. I had it from a man name of Smith. I was to have paid him £3 10s. for it. It was outside the Earl of Gray, Mile End Road. I was to have paid him £3 15s. for it. I had not got the money. I paid him 10s. He was to have come to Maidstone a week ago last Sunday" (this was 13th, and Sunday week would be 1st September) "for the remainder of the money, but he did not come. I then sold it to a man named Shorter, who gave me 15s. deposit, the remainder to have been paid at the expiration of the reaping"—Constable Turner had a receipt made out in ink on a small piece of paper—when the prisoner was committed for trial Turner was told to keep possession of it—I made this copy of it afterwards—the witnesses' names were then as now, "Mr. Jones, Mrs. Jones"—the original was all in the same handwriting.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in a written defence, said that he hired the pony and cart from a man, who gave the name of Smith, at Fisher's coffee-house, in Billingsgate, for 10s. a week.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in February, 1888, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The COURT considered that Shorter deserved great credit for having given information.
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted. FREDERICK JAMES WEST. I am a sawmills proprietor, of 25, Ash Grove, Hackney—the prisoner used now and again to go out with my carmen, delivering bundles from the horse and van; and when he came back I would give him 2d.—I did not employ him permanently—Mr. Claxton is a customer of mine—at this time he owed me £23 14s. 6d.—I called on him on 3rd October, and he gave me certain information—afterwards I saw that this cheque, which I had not seen before, had been paid into my credit at the London and Provincial Bank—my partner has since endorsed it again for the convenience of the bank—I have a letter-box fixed in the brickwork of the stable; into it letters coming to my place of business are delivered—I keep it locked—it was possible to take letters out of it from inside the stable without unlocking it—I should say it was not possible for letters put into the box to drop out.
JAMES CLAXTON . I am a plain and fancy box manufacturer, at 120, Goswell Road—I deal with Mr. West—on 30th September I sent him this cheque for £23 14s. 6d. on the Cripplegate Bank, posting it at 114, Goswell Road, at half-past nine—afterwards Mr. West called on me.
JOHN SIMPSON . I am cashier at the Cripplegate Bank, 31, Whitecross Street—at nine o'clock on 1st October this cheque was presented to me by a boy—I cannot identify the prisoner—he said nothing, but offered me the cheque as if to receive the cash for it—I saw it was crossed, and returned it—I did not notice the endorsement at the time.
and Provincial Bank—on let October the prisoner presented this cheque, saying he had been sent by Messrs. West and Co. with the cheque—it was endorsed before he brought it; the endorsement is not like Messrs. West's—I gave him a credit slip, and showed him how to fill it in—he signed his name W. Jones on the credit slip—when he had filled it up he asked if there was anything more—I said, "No"—he asked a second time if it was all right—I said, "Yes"—Mr. West has an account with us; I placed the cheque to their credit—I gave him nothing.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 25th, and Saturday, 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and
HENRY THOMAS WILLIS . I live at Cromwell Avenue, Highgate—I am a collector of rates for the City, and also act as agent for Mr. Crowther, the landlord of 11, Liddiard Road, Highgate—the prisoner was the tenant of that house; he paid monthly a rent of £2 6s. 8d., and he also paid the taxes—I called for the rent monthly—on 12th September he was in arrear with the rent—there was three months owing to 1st October—the last month's was due up to 8th August—that was not paid, and nothing has been paid since—I called two or three times for the rent—the last time I called was about a week before 12th September.
Cross-examined. He paid the July rent—I have my receipt-book here—he owed for August and September, and up to October 1st, three months—the September rent was not paid—the July rent was the last that was paid—he owes for two months, £4 13s.—I never lost any rent through him before—he has had the house about two years.
ELLEN TYLER, SEN . I am the wife of William Tyler, and live at 14, Liddiard Road—I knew the prisoner and his wife as neighbours—before his wife went away on 9th September I made some arrangement with her, and on the 10th and 11th the prisoner brought me the key of his house each morning—during the day my daughter went into the house to do the household work, and the prisoner called for the key in the evening—on the morning of Thursday, the 12th, he left the key, and between five and six in the afternoon I saw him speaking to my daughter—I did not hear what he said; I saw my daughter go away—about nine that same evening my attention was attracted to the prisoner's house; I saw the staircase in flames—I afterwards saw the firemen—some furniture was brought from that house into mine—on the following day, the 13th, I did not have the key—on the 14th I saw the prisoner, and he gave me the key—I did the work on that day myself, and also on Sunday, the 15th—I saw the prisoner at half-past four that afternoon leaving the house—I did not see him come back that day—I did not go to the house on the Monday—on the Tuesday morning he brought me the key, and I went into the house to do the work that day—I was in
the house about two in the afternoon; I let myself in with the key by the front door—while I was in the house the prisoner came in from the back-yard door, not the door I had come through—I was surprised at seeing him—he told me he had found his door-key—on Thursday, the 19th, I went to the house in the afternoon—about three that day the prisoner came for the key—that was the last time I saw him on that day, he then said he was going to Margate until Monday—I was out till ten that evening—when I came back I saw the engines in front of the house; the fire had then been put out.
Cross-examined. I speak of Thursday, the 12th, from my own recollection—I am sure it was Thursday, the 12th—my daughter only went once for paraffin—the prisoner used paraffin instead of gas—it was not unusual for his family to go to Margate; he is a Margate man, and his family used to go there about this time of year—I have known him about two years—I knew he went to Margate last year and this year—it was not on Tuesday, the 10th, that my daughter went to fetch the paraffin, it was on the Thursday—my daughter has not spoken to me about it since—my house is not next door to the prisoner's, it is in the same road—I hare two outer door-keys—I let apartments, and I give my lodger one—there is a largish garden at the back of the houses in Liddiard Road—they are separated from each other by a wooden fence, and the infirmary wall is at the bottom.
ELLEN TYLER, JUN . I am the daughter of the last witness and live; with her—on the 10th, 11th and 12th September, from what my mother said to me, I went into the prisoner's house and did the house-work—I let myself in by the front door with the key—on the 12th, when I had done the work in the house and when I left, everything was right in the house—it was about two o'clock when I left—I remember the prisoner asking me to get some paraffin oil for him—that was on the Thursday; he came to our house for the key and asked me whether I would go and get him half a gallon of oil at Thorne's, on Highgate Hill, that was about five o'clock—he did not give me anything to get it in; he said the handle was off the can—I went to Thorne's and got the oil, the lady served me, I brought it back in a can, I knocked at the door, he came to the door and I gave him the oil—that was the only time I had got any oil for him.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that it was on Tuesday, the 10th, that I fetched the oil, I made a mistake, my mother told me I was wrong, after I had given my evidence at the Court—it was not a gallon I was sent for, only half a gallon—about six or seven on the evening of the 12th, the prisoner called at the house with another gentleman, I saw them—I spoke to them—I do not know the names of the other gentlemen—the prisoner told me he was going out, and would be home about half-past ten.
WILLIAM THORNE . I am an oilman, and live at 4, Highgate Hill—I have known the prisoner for some time as a neighbour and a customer, and was in the habit of supplying him with paraffin oil—he usually had half a gallon a week in the summer-time and a gallon in the winter—he usually had it on a Saturday—I supplied him with half a gallon on the 31st August, and also on the Saturday before that—on 12th September he had half a gallon, and a quart on 17th September—he fetched that himself—I lent him a half-gallon can to take it in—I lent a can also on the 12th,
that was a gallon can—I know his house—I was there on Monday, the 16th, after the first fire, I met the prisoner outside and asked him what had happened—I went into the house and saw the state it was in—I helped him clean up the mess, and advised him to write for his wife—I saw some newspapers about the place leading along the passage or hall and up the staircase—I did not see any other papers besides newspapers.
Cross-examined. I saw the papers actually up the staircase, not twisted in any manner—I saw no paraffin oil there—I deal in paraffin—there must be flame to set fire to it; a smouldering rag would not do it—I can't say whether a fuse would set fire to it—the paper was not scorched, it was not touched by fire—he did not have more than his usual allowance of paraffin in that week, he had less than usual by five days—the quart of oil would be half his usual quantity for the week—my house is about two minutes' walk from the prisoner's—I was there on the night of the 12th and also on the 16th—when I got there on the night of the 12th there were policemen there—there was one when I went in, an ordinary constable, he was in the office when I went in—there was a table in the office—I did not notice any desk—I saw the sergeant who came in afterwards, taking notes—the fire had been put out when I came to the place—the first person I saw was a police constable—the sergeant came about a quarter of a hour after I was there; he examined the table and took notes in a book—I was examined at the Police-court, the sergeant was not called there—I saw the state of the room, it was in confusion and greatly disordered, papers were thrown about—I did not see any drawers lying about in the office, I did in the front room and the back room—on Sunday, 15th September, the prisoner called on me about half-past four, I had a conversation with him; he produced a cheque to me for £2 6s., and asked me to change it and said he was going to Margate; I cashed it for him, it was made payable to himself—he asked me to go to the Holborn Viaduct Railway Station with him—I also saw him on the Tuesday following, the 17th—he called on me and said he was going home to sleep, I can't say exactly what that time was, it was after dinner, between two and three, I think—I insured my life through the prisoner twelve months ago; I always understood he had a good business as an agent—he had a commission on the lives he insured, but he said he would get his commission from the agent—I had been in his house before any fire took place on the night of the 12th—we had a discussion as to whether my door-key would fit his door; I got my key and it did open the prisoner's door; it was an ordinary door-key—when I saw him on the 16th, he complained about this attempt—he told me he had suspicion of some person, and asked me to come up and look at it—he would not mention any name—he did not mention any name to me; he said, "I won't mention the name to you"—he said, "I will not mention it to the police, because I will watch the gentleman myself "—I remember a conversation between the prisoner and a Mrs. Hensby; there were other persons present at the time, I was one of them, and Mrs. Hensby and her daughters—Mrs. Hensby was chaffing him about the fire, and he said, "I wish the fire had burnt the whole row down, and I do not thank the neighbours for their interference and chatter, they might have a fire themselves some day; not that there would be a fire another day, but that they might have a fire themselves some day.
Re-examined. The prisoner's solicitor has not been to me, I have been to him—I made a statement to him, which was taken down in writing—I have known the prisoner between four and five years, as calling at my premises and serving him as a neighbour; he has been a customer ever since he has been in the neighbourhood—I did not serve the little girl on the 12th, I was out, my wife served her—I know she had a gallon can because I missed it—half a gallon was booked to him—I have not got the book here, I produced it at the Police-court—there was no paraffin supplied on Saturday, the 7th—on the Thursday night I was told by the waiter at the Archway Tavern that there was a fire there—I got to the house about ten minutes to twelve—the prisoner was there—it was through him that I went in, I met him at the house—I knocked at the door and he opened it—I went over the house with him and the policeman—the prisoner did not tell me then that he had a suspicion as to who had done it; it was on Monday, the 16th, that he told me that—I saw him on Sunday, the 15th, at half-past four in the afternoon—he told me he was going to Margate, and I cashed the cheque for him—I don't know whether that was for the purpose of his journey; he said he had no money—on the 16th he said he had come up from Margate—I can't say exactly the time I saw him, but it was after tea, I generally take my tea at five; it might have been between six and seven—he likewise told me that he had been round to see one of the Prudential people, I don't know the name—he said on the Sunday he was going to Margate to see his wife and tell her the bad news of the Thursday, and he told me his wife was very much cut up about it—that was the only conversation we had—I saw him again on the Tuesday; he came to the shop for a quart, of oil, that was after tea, about six, I suppose—I only saw him once that time—I saw him at dinner time at two o'clock as well—he said he was going to have a sleep—he came back after tea and took the quart of oil with him—I did not smell any paraffin oil on the Monday night; I am positive of that—I am a pretty good judge of it—when he took the oil on the Tuesday he said, "I will only buy a quart, because I don't want it about the place"—I know he had none then, because the tins were turned over on their sides—that was on the 12th—I heard of the fire of the 19th on the 20th, next morning—I did not hear that paraffin had been found again—it was on the Monday evening, when he came from Margate, that he said he had his suspicion as to who had done the first fire—he did not then know about the second fire; his lodger told him of that—he did not say exactly that he suspected the man had stolen the money; what he said was, "The job of mine on Thursday"—he said he would not tell the police, he would watch the gentleman himself—that was after the lodger had told him of the second attempt, before we got to the house; I won't be certain, but I think it was—when we got to the house I saw these newspapers leading up the staircase—I don't know what the object of that was, but it looked like being done with the object of being fired—they must have been put there purposely by someone—the prisoner said it looked very suspicious, and he said, "What would you do if you were me?"—I said, "I would clear up your place, write for your wife to come home, and watch"—the police never occurred to me—he never told me the amount of the money he had lost—I think he said between £25 and £30—that was to the police—he never mentioned anything to me about the money.
TOM ELLIOTT . I am a wine-blender, and live at 13, Liddiard Road, next door to the prisoner—the house on the other side of the prisoner, No. 9, is inhabited—my kitchen faces the prisoner's kitchen—on Thursday night, 12th September, about half-past nine, I was in my kitchen, and I noticed a light over the fanlight of the prisoner's back door—seeing that I went out to the front door; there was not a soul to be seen; I knocked at the prisoner's door, and I could hear wood crackling and things falling about—I then knocked at No. 9, and told the people there that the house next to them was on fire—I then tried to force the door of No. 11, but could not—I then tried the parlour window, and found it to be unfastened—with difficulty, owing to the smoke, I got through and into the passage, where I found the cellar under the stairs to be a complete furnace—I then opened the door; someone handed me water, which I threw on the fire—some neighbours came, and I left them throwing water on the fire—I then went to the Holborn Infirmary, and Mr. Lanham came there—the coal-cellar is marked on this plan; that is where the fire was raging; it is under the staircase leading up to the first floor—between the ground floor and first floor there is an ante-room or office—the fire was not out when I returned with Lanham to the house; although it was greatly got under, it was still burning—Lanham extinguished the fire—at the time I got through the window there was a rather strong smell of paraffin—on Sunday afternoon, the 15th, at twenty minutes to three, I was at my parlour window, and saw the prisoner and two others just going in at the door; I heard the prisoner or someone go to the back of the house, and shut down the back window, and then he and the two persons came out at seven minutes to four, and they went away together; I don't know who the two others were—I next saw the prisoner at half-past four come out of the house alone; he had an overcoat on his arm, and he went away in the same direction as before—a few minutes after I went into my kitchen, and found a strong smell of paraffin, coming from a broken window of the prisoner's kitchen—I saw that window broken on the Sunday night, by the engineer from the infirmary—the kitchen leads to the passage and the coal-cellar and the larder: there is a door in front of the larder—the smell was strong; it smelt like raw paraffin—in consequence of that I stopped at home the whole of the evening and night—I was at home on the 19th—about half-past ten that night someone knocked at my door, and told me the house was on fire—I went to the front door, and tried to break it, but was unable to do so—the door was locked, and the window also through which I had obtained access before—just as I was trying to open the window somebody broke the door open, and I then entered the house with others—I saw the back parlour carpet on fire all over, with the legs of the furniture; I saw smoke and flame—there was a very strong smell of paraffin, and I also saw the front parlour carpet on fire—there were two distinct fires—I saw some things in that room on fire, a distinct fire from the back room—my attention was not directed to the staircase that night; I only went into the two rooms—the neighbours and myself extinguished the fire with water—it took about fifteen minutes—Lanham was there; the two fires seemed to be quite independent of each other.
JOHN PHILIP JACKSON . I am a driver in the service of the North Metropolitan Tramway Company, and am now living at 16, Liddiard Road—up to the 19th September I was a lodger with the prisoner at No, 11—I occupied the back bedroom on the first floor—I was the only lodger—up to 9th September the prisoner, his wife, and children lived there—they went to Margate; my duties took me to my work about eight in the morning, end I did not get back till somewhere after twelve at night; I did not go home to my meals—when I left on Thursday morning, the 12th, everything was all right in the house, as far as I could see—I did not see the prisoner before I left that morning—I returned from my work at a quarter to one in the middle of the night—I found that a fire had occurred in the coal-cellar under the staircase—it was all over when I got back—I let myself in with a key at the front door—the prisoner was in the house at the time—he said, "This is a very sad affair"—I said, "Yes"—he said he had a suspicion of certain persons having done this, in spite to him—I went into my bedroom; it was in a disorderly state, a chest of drawers had been broken open, and the contents strewn about the carpet—some of the drawers were on the floor, and the contents of other drawers were thrown on the floor—I missed two overcoats—I told the prisoner so—he did not say anything—I went into the prisoner's room, the front room; that was in almost a similar condition—the drawers had been broken open—I don't think anything was strewn on the floor—the drawers were drawn out a little—I think the things were still in them—I went into the office—there was a table in one comer of the room, and a shelf in another comer—I think the prisoner kept his books and papers there belonging to the insurance company—he told me he had lost between £25 and £30 in money, a suit of clothes, and a mackintosh—he said the money had been taken from the drawers of the desk in his office, and the clothes from his bedroom—I think he made that statement half an hour after our return—I think the policeman left the house before that—I think he made the statement about the money while the policeman was there; I think he did not as to the clothes—Mr. Thorne was there part of the time—he was there when I got home—he stayed, I think, fully an hour and a quarter after that—the prisoner asked me if I would take a day off the following day—I said I would go and ask, and Thorne said, "I will stay with Rickards till you come back"—I went to the yard and got permission, and I got back about half-past one, and found the prisoner and Thorne still there, and I told them I had got my day off; that was with the object that we should go and communicate with the police in the morning as to my loss and his—Thorne left immediately after my return from the yard; that was about half-past one or thereabouts—I slept in the house that night; nothing was done in the way of setting the rooms straight that night, except I think that I put my two drawers that were on the floor in their place—nothing was done in the prisoner's room that I am aware of—I went to the station and gave information—I left the house with the prisoner between nine and ten in the morning, and went to the station and gave information as to the loss and the fire—the police came back to the house either with us or immediately afterwards, Superintendent Allum and Sergeant Nutkins—I remained in the house up to the Sunday—I saw the prisoner that day; I had an appointment to meet him at half-past two at the terminus of our company's line, at the Archway Tavern—he told me he was going to Margate that afternoon; he had told me on the day
previous that he was going on the Sunday—I think ho said he was going some time in the evening—he said on the Sunday that he was anxious to communicate the bad news to his wife; he left me at half-past two, and I saw no more of him that day—I got home that night at a little past eleven—I let myself in with my key—there was the old smell in the house from the fire, a smell of burning and of paraffin; that smell had existed from the previous Thursday; there was a smell of smoke; as I came to the staircase I noticed rolls of paper laid in a train form up the stairs, going up towards the office and up to the first floor, where the bedrooms were; the paper was rolled loosely, touching each other, and one was put through the banisters on the first landing, close to the office door, about two yards from it; that was evidently laid purposely—I did not smell the paper; I left it as it was—I slept in the house that night—I saw the prisoner next morning between eleven and twelve; it was before dinner; he came to where I was—I said to him, "How did you leave the house yesterday morning?"—he said, ''Just as you left it"—I said then, "There is something very queer about it; there has evidently been another plot for a fire "—he appeared surprised, and said he would go and look—I described to him what I had seen the night before—he said his wife had received the news, and was very much hurt, and was almost beside herself on hearing the news—that was between eleven and twelve on the Monday morning; he then left me, and I saw him again in the afternoon between two and three—he said ho had been to his office to see the manager, and they told him that the police had been watching him for six months—I said, ''You ought to go to the police office, and tell them of this plot to burn your place again"—he said he would do so—he told me he had been to see the house—I went to my work the rest of the day, and got home at my usual hour, at twelve on the Monday night—the newspapers had then been removed, and the place was swept and cleared up—I spoke to the prisoner about it, and he said he had had his coat off, and cleaned the place up himself—I slept in the house on the Tuesday and Wednesday—on the Thursday ho said he might as well be down at Margate, because he was only walking about spending money and doing no good, as he was suspended by his company; he could not follow his business, and he would go to Margate that evening; I don't think he mentioned the time—he then left mo to go home, and I saw no more of him—I got home between twelve and one that night—on going into the office I at once saw there had been another fire—I had heard the news before I got there—it Lad been extinguished before I arrived—the prisoner did not say anything to me as to his having been at the place before the second fire—I did not ask him a question about it—he would know that I should sleep in the house both on the 15th and 19th—I did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody—I think I made a mistake in my evidence before, when I said I saw him on the Saturday, but on thinking it over I did not see him again till he was in custody.
Cross-examined. I did not see any appearance of a fresh fire on the 15th—the smell was much the same on the 15th as on the 12th—on the 12th, when I got home, three or four police were there—I saw one taking notes in a pocket-book—I don't know whether that man was examined at the Police-court—I remember coming home one night with Mr. Hensby, when I could not open the door, and ho said f should try his
key, and that opened the door—I cannot be positive of the hour at which I met the prisoner on the Monday, whether it was between eleven and twelve, or between twelve and one.
RICHARD ALLUM (Police Inspector Y). On the night of 12th September, about five minutes to ten, I went to 11, Liddiard Road—on entering the house I saw that the staircase was on fire—people were engaged in putting the fire out—it was put out in a quarter of an hour from the time I got there—the prisoner was not there—after the fire was put out I went upstairs and into the bedrooms—in the front room there were two chairs placed on the floor; the remaining drawers wore in the chest, and their contents partly disarranged—in the back room the drawers were disarranged—in the office the table was strewn with a quantity of papers belonging to the Prudential Insurance Company—in the front room there was a smell of paraffin oil on the table—there was a hanging-socket, and the lamp was on the table—I did not see the prisoner at all that night—on the Friday morning I was at the station, when the prisoner came there accompanied by Jackson—he stated that the house had been entered during his absence and a quantity of clothing stolen, enumerating the articles, also a sum of money, a £5 note, and from £20 to £25 in gold and silver, and the thieves had afterwards set fire to the premises—he said he left the house about seven o'clock—I took the particulars of the alleged loss and have the exact items: a diagonal coat and vest; a pair of grey trousers, two overcoats, one waterproof, and the money; he valued the total at £30—I was the first police officer that arrived at the house; others came—nobody made a note that I know of—on the morning of the 13th I visited the house about half-past ten—I could find no trace of thieves having been in the place; I examined the place fully; there were no marks visible on the outside—I examined the different rooms—between the 13th and 19th the prisoner made no report of any further attempt to fire the place—I met him on one or two occasions, once on Monday, the 16th, about half-past four, and the following day about three; nothing was said about this—on the 19th, about half-past ten, I was called to the same house—I found the premises in charge of some of the neighbours; some communication was made to me—I examined the place—there was a quantity of newspapers loosely rolled into each other from the bottom of the stairs to the prisoner's bedroom, some were twined into the stair rails, and others leading from the stairs into the office; the whole of them were saturated with paraffin or similar oil; this train led into the office behind the door, to an old aquarium under a shelf, on which were a quantity of books relating to the business of the Prudential—there was a quantity of paraffin oil on the carpet at the termination of the train; by the train, I mean the rolls of paper—on the front-room table there were three bottles, each of which contained, paraffin oil—I produce them—there were no broken bottles on that occasion—on the first occasion there were three or four broken beer bottles—I found this small can on the dresser in the kitchen on the night of the 19th, and this other one was lying on its side in the passage on the night of the 12th, close to the fire—I produce some of the paper I found—this roll of paper is the one spoken of as being on the stairs; they had paraffin oil on them; it is there now; these others are the papers leading from the stairs to the shelf behind the door, and these are the papers under the shelf in the aquarium—this is a piece of the carpet that
was saturated with paraffin, also some books and a table-cloth with paraffin on it—I saw a cabinet on the morning of the 13th at one of the neighbour's houses; it had been removed at the outbreak of the fire; the prisoner directed my attention to it; he took me to the neighbour's house—the doors of that cabinet appeared to have been forced by a small screwdriver—when I examined the place on the night of the 12th I saw nothing the matter with it; it appeared perfectly safe and intact—when I saw it on the morning of the 13th I noticed marks on the woodwork on each side of the lock, apparently done by a pair of scissors; the bolt of the lock was shot outside, the catch of the drawers, not strained or forced in any way; the socket into which the bolt of the lock shot was quite intact, not injured in any way—I saw a pair of scissors in the office such as would have made the marks on the drawer—I saw a screwdriver in the house on the night of the 12th which corresponded with the marks on the cabinet.
Cross-examined. There is a mark on one of the bottles relating to a public-house; another one has a name moulded in the bottle—Liddiard Road is five or six miles from the Harrow Road, and a mile or a mile and a quarter from the Seven Sisters Road; and Poole's Park is nearly two miles—I am not aware that there is any person here from Poole's Park Tavern—I examined the premises thoroughly, inside and out, to see if thieves had entered—I examined the house door and the parlour window, and saw no signs of violence—the marks on the drawers would lead one to suppose that scissors had been used, before I saw the scissors—there were dents which could not have been done by a screwdriver—I did not flee a sergeant there on the 13th taking notes—Thorne was not there when I went in, nor Jackson—if they say they saw a man taking notes, it was not me—I and Sergeant Nutkins were there at half-past ten on the morning of the 13th—he took a note in his memorandum book—I was not there at half-past one; I left at half-past eleven, and was not there again till half-past ten next morning.
Re-examined. When I left at half-past eleven, the prisoner had not come—I was the first officer that arrived—a number of men arrived then to preserve order, and remove the crowd—Sergeant Macey came later on, but he took no part in the matter; he came into the house after everything was cleared and quiet, and we came away together—I saw no other constable—a sergeant may have entered the building, but not to my knowledge.
GEORGE LANHAM . I am an engineer, and live at the Holborn Union Infirmary—I look after the apparatus for putting out fire—on the night of 12th of September, about ten minutes to ten, my attention was called to 11, Liddiard Road—on going there I found the place full of smoke—I had to break open the back door to gain access—on getting in I found the coal cellar under the stairs on fire—I put it out—I then went upstairs into the front bedroom—I found it disarranged, and the drawers out on "the floor—in the back bedroom the drawers were drawn out and open—in the office I found a good many papers strewn about, all there were—there was no more fire upstairs—I did not notice anything the matter with the drawer of the desk in the office; I think I should have seen if it had been open—I saw a can at the bottom of the stairs on its side, and just inside the coal cellar door was another can lying on its side—one can had apparently contained paraffin, the other I did not examine—at that time
Inspector Allum came, and took charge of the premises—on the 19th September, about half-past ten, when I was in bed, I received a call, and went again to the same house—I got over the back wall; the back door was closed but not fastened, and I got into the house—there was not so much smoke, but there was a lot of smell of paraffin—the table in the front room had been on fire—some one had put it out—it was saturated with paraffin—it had been alight, and was scorched all round the edges of the cloth, which had been alight—I saw these three bottles on the table; they smelt strongly of paraffin—a chair was on fire—the covering of it was all alight—that I put out—the chair was away from the table—there was a hole in the partition separating the front room from the back—it looked as if someone had kicked their boot through it—some paper there had been burning, and saturated with paraffin—that was a distinct fire from the one in the chair—in the passage there was some tow or wool saturated with paraffin that had been on fire, but had burnt out—the skirting and the oil-cloth showed signs of fire—that was a distinct fire—altogether there were four distinct fires—there was a train of paper from the staircase up to the office—the door of the office was shut—a piece of paper was put at the bottom of the floor, and the train was continued up to the top landing, with a small piece at the end of it, at the door sill.
CHARLES NUTKINS (Police Sergeant Y). On the morning of 13th September, in consequence of a complaint made at the station, I went with the inspector to 11, Liddiard Road—I saw the prisoner there—he pointed out to me a table in the office, and said that £20 to £25 in gold and a £5 note had been taken from there; that the drawer had been forced—I found two marks on the drawer, by the lock—I saw a pair of scissors on the table—I formed the opinion that the drawer was closed at the time the marks were made, but not looked, and that the drawer had not been forced—in the rooms upstairs the drawers were out, and placed in various positions about the room, but the contents were not disarranged—on the bedroom carpet I saw a patch of paraffin oil—I asked the prisoner at what time he left the house—he said at 7. 15, and he returned there about eleven; that was after the fire had occurred—I asked him how he accounted for leaving so much money unprotected—he said it was the money of the society, and had to be paid in next morning—I went to the house again on the 20th, and examined it—the result was that I found the marks and appearances of four distinct fires—a hole had been broken in the wall, and there was some partially-consumed cotton waste put in it—I noticed a sofa turned upside down, and cotton-wool thrust into it and burnt.
Cross-examined. I telegraphed to Margate on the morning of the 20th about half-past ten or eleven—I believe the information that the prisoner's family were there came from Jackson.
ALICE THORNE . I am the wife of William Thorne—I served the girl Tyler with oil on 12th September—I believe I saw the prisoner early that morning; he came and asked me if I would send him in half a gallon of oil—I said, "Yes"—that was all he said—it was between five and six that the girl came for the oil; I gave it her in one of our half-gallon cans; I could not swear to the can—the girl paid for the oil, and I made an entry of it.
—I am a money lender—I know the prisoner as a borrower—on 20th June last I lent him £30 on a bill of sale of his furniture at 11, Liddiard Road—I have the bill of sale; it contained a proviso for insurance—I insured the furniture for £100; I took out the policy in his name—on the Saturday after the first fire he came to my office and said a fire had occurred on his premises; burglars had entered and broken open a drawer and stolen £25 and £5 of his own money, and had soaked some clothes with paraffin and set light to the place—I said, "Then you had better make out an inventory of the remains''—he said, '' There is no policy "—I said, '' Yes, there is "—I don't believe he knew there was a policy in existence—I said, "You had better go to the Prudential"—he said, "I have been there, and they don't believe the money is stolen, but that I have had the money "—I said, "You had better let my man come and see what damage is done "—he said he would let me know by Monday—he said he must resign on the Monday if he did not produce the £30—he said that an agent under him had been discharged through being a defaulter, and he suspected that was the party who had set light to the place—I said, "You had better acquaint the police of that fact"—he said, "I have done so"—I did not see him again till he was in custody—I had a telegram from him on the Tuesday.
FRANK HAYCRAFT . I am head clerk in the audit department of the Prudential Insurance Company, at 142, Holborn Bars—the prisoner has been employed in that company as assistant to the superintendent for the Highgate division since April, 1886—it was his duty to superintend the collectors and agents for the Highgate district—his salary was £2 6s. per week, and he had something by way of commission in addition—if the agents had any balance in their hands they would hand it to the prisoner; it would be quite in order for him to receive it—he would also receive premiums from assured persons—many of those premiums would fall due on the first of each month—about 20th August I sent to the prisoner a list of premiums, which would become due on 1st September; he would have authority to collect those premiums; it would be his duty to hand them over to the society—on 7th and 13th September I wrote to him to come and see me—he did not come until the 14th; he then told me that a burglary had taken place at his house and a fire, and that about £30 of the company's money had been stolen, and about £10 of his own money—I said I did not believe his statement as to the burglary, and that he would not be allowed to act further for us until he had found the money—I said it pointed to two things, either gross carelessness or something worse (we have facilities for our agents to pay into the banks, and they could have paid them)—he replied, "Very well"—I said I did not believe he had £10 of his own money, and I asked him how he had made it up—he said he had put it back by small sums week by week for a specific purpose which he did not specify—I had written to him to come at ten, he came at half-past eleven—he apologised for being late by saying he had been to see the police that morning with reference to the burglary—he then left about twelve—I next saw him on Monday, the 16th, about twelve o'clock—I asked him how this money of ours was made up, and he then made out this list in my presence—the pencil figures are his, the red ink are mine—I was not able to cast the pencil figures, they were not sufficiently clear, and I asked him to call out the items to me, and I put them
down in red ink—those represent the sums he had received on our behalf under different policies, the numbers of which are put here; the total amount in red ink is £20 2s.—he agreed that that was right—he said he had also in this drawer, which was broken open, £15, which had been handed to him by an agent named Shepherd; he did not say when—Shepherd was a new agent, and would have gone to the prisoner for instructions and handed the cash over to him—I understood that had been done—it was the prisoner's duty to have remitted that £15 to the office—he said that a further sum of £4 in gold was handed to him by an agent named Harrod, on the Thursday night, 12th September, on which the fire had occurred—no mention was made of any books—we supply our agents with books and stationery, including proposal forms, and all forms required by an agent—the prisoner would supply the agents with collecting books, which he would receive from the office—he was to come on Saturday morning to bring the books—they were not brought; the money was a more important matter—the books he was to bring were with reference to an agent named Partman—he did not bring those books; he brought no books at all, either on the 14th or 16th, he said they had been in this fire, and my inference from what he said was that the books had been destroyed; I have not a very distinct recollection of his actual words, that he had had a fire at his house and he was unable to bring the books; that was on the 14th—the books were not referred to further on the 16th.
Cross-examined. The ordinary collectors and agents were inferior to the prisoner—a collector would pay his collection direct to us as a rule; he would have a book—that collector has left, not of his own free will—the directors would have authority to dismiss; we have a surety—we had a surety with Partman; we go by the report of the superintendent or the assistant—we sometimes reinstate; the man would have the privilege of appeal to us, and we should have the matter gone into—if an ordinary collector has not duly entered in his book the amounts received it would justify his dismissal—the assistant superintendent keeps in his possession the books of the agent who on his recommendation has been discharged, and if the agent appeals those books would be produced in evidence for his reinstatement—Partman was dismissed, and reinstated after the fire in another district—it was on the prisoner's report that Partman was dismissed—he said the books had been destroyed in consequence of the fire; that would include Partman's books—it was after the fire that Partman appealed—the police communicated with us—I did not promise to reinstate the prisoner in another district if he paid the money—Partman is here; he is a superintendent of agents—the prisoner was not an agent; he was assistant to a superintendent—Mr. Hargreaves would not have authority himself to represent to the prisoner that if the police took no action he should be sent to another district—Harrod is a collecting agent—the prisoner said that Harrod had on the night of the fire paid him £4 in gold—Harrod is here.
Re-examined. It was the prisoner who reported Partman in the first instance, and on his report Partman was dismissed—if there was a balance in Partman's hands, he should have handed it to the prisoner, and that should have appeared in the books—no complete investigation was made as to this matter, because so much suspicion was attached to the prisoner that we gave Partman the banefit of the doubt—I believe Partman's
books hare since been found—Mr. Hargreaves will tell you that; I have not seen them.
HENRY HARGREAVES . I am superintendent of the Highgate district—the prisoner was my assistant; I paid him his salary from week to week—before 10th September he had occasionally anticipated his salary and commission—we have had an investigation in order to discover the prisoner's deficiency to the society, which shows a deficiency of £39 2s.—I am not aware that Partman's dismissal was brought about by the prisoner's report to the directors—since this accusation against the prisoner, Partman has been reinstated—Partman's books have been found at the prisoner's house, I believe—it was after they were found that Partman was reinstated—I don't know what the result of the prisoner's report was; I know that Partman was dismissed.
Cross-examined. Partman's books were brought to my place, I think by the police, or I had them from the police, I am hardly able to say when; I should say it was a week or ten days after the fire on the 13th—Partman had come to me in the interval; I had seen him several times—I can't say whether I saw him on the Monday after the fire of the 16th; I might have done—I have no recollection of his telling me that the police had taken away from the fire a number of papers that incriminated the prisoner—the first I heard of the fire on the 12th was the day after—I am quite unable to say how soon after that it was that Partman called on me—I can't say whether he called on the 16th; probably he called that week—I don't recollect his telling me that the police had been watching the prisoner six months; if he had made such a statement no doubt I should have remembered it—I can give you no date at which such a conversation occurred—I have no power to reinstate a man only by recommendation—I don't think I said if the money was found and the police took no action I would reinstate the prisoner in another district; I will not swear that I did not—this is the first time I have been asked to give evidence in this case—I think Partman was reinstated upon the principle of giving him the benefit of a doubt.
By the COURT. He was removed for some irregularity in his conduct; we had no positive means of proof; there was a deficiency in the agency, and we were not sure that that deficiency had not been caused by the prisoner's misconduct.
ROSA HENSBY . I live at Clayton Terrace, Highgate—I know the prisoner very well—I remember the fire on 12th September; I saw him afterwards at my shop door—I said something to him about the fire, but I don't recollect exactly what it was; I only joked him about it; I only told him to make a good job of it; that was all—he said he would next time, or something like that—Mr. Thorne was there at the time—the prisoner said something about another fire, but we were only joking together; I know he said something about interfering with other people's business, but what it was I don't know; I suppose it was some of the neighbours interfering about the fire—Craig spoke to me about the fire—I said, "Next time you have a fire make a good job of it"—he laughed, and I laughed too—I don't remember his saying anything about thanking his neighbours.
JOSEPH FRELOI . I am an Italian—I keep a restaurant in Archway Road, Upper Holloway—I know the prisoner—I remember the two fires occurring at his house—on the Thursday, the day of the last fire, he said
he did not see the reason why he should stop about here spending his money and doing nothing, and he thought about going away and enjoying himself; he was suspended from the office, and rather than stop about the neighbourhood he would go to Margate and see his wife; that was what I understood—he told me in the morning that he would go at one o'clock, but I saw him afterwards between four and five, and I said, "How is it that you have not gone off?"—he said, "I promised to meet a friend of mine here, and he has not shown up, and I am going off now"—I saw him again between six and half-past, and he then said he was just going off to catch the train at London Bridge at a few minutes past seven, and if they wanted him they would have to fetch him—it was not then, but just before or just after the first fire, he said, "If anybody calls, tell them you have not seen me. "
Cross-examined. On the night of the 12th, about twelve o'clock, I was drinking at the bar of the Archway Tavern, when the prisoner came in with two friends; that was after the fire, and I told him his house was on fire—he seemed astonished, and he ran off as hard as he could to the fire—I had just come away from the fire—I believe I was the first person that told him of it.
Re-examined. When I saw him about five he was coming from the direction of his house; he had a black bag with him.
JOHN CRAIG (Detective Sergeant Y). I took the prisoner into custody at Margate on 21st September—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for unlawfully and maliciously setting fire to the house, 11, Liddiard Road, on 14th September; you will be further charged with setting fire to the same house on the 19th September"—he said, "We must see about it"—on the way to London in the train he said, "I knew nothing about the second fire until you told me this afternoon that I am charged with it; I can prove that I left my house in Liddiard Road shortly after five o'clock on Thursday; I called at the Nag's Head, and then took the 'bus to the comer of Gray's Inn Road; I left Holborn Viaduct at a quarter-past seven, and got to Margate about half-past nine; I called at the Hall-by-the-Sea, and spoke to a night-watchman of the South-Eastern Railway, named Lawrence; I afterwards smoked a cigar with a friend named Powell, and I slept at my brother-in-law's"—he handed me five pawn-tickets, one of a pair of earrings and a pencil-case—he said, "They are all my property"—the dates of the tickets range from December, 1888, to 9th September this year—the pawning on 9th September was a bracelet and a locket for 15s.
Cross-examined. I received him in custody from the Margate police—I suppose he had been in their custody more than two hours.
RICHARD MACEY (Police Sergeant Y). I was on the prisoner's premises on the night of 12th September with Mr. Allum—I saw no other policeman inside; I saw one or two outside keeping the crowd in order—I remained there as long as the inspector, and we came away together about half-past eleven or a quarter to twelve; I did not make any notes in my book at the time-Inspector Allum took notes; as far as I know he was the only person there who did—I made some notes, not regarding the fire, with respect to the larceny that was reported—that was all I interfered with—the inspector made whatever note was made as to the fire.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence. THOMAS HALLETT. I am an agent to the Prudential Assurance Company—between twenty and twenty-five minutes to seven on the night of 12th September, I called at the prisoner's house and knocked at the door—the prisoner let me in; I heard him come downstairs—I went up with him into the office which has been described as an ante-room, where the shelf and bookcase is—I stayed upstairs with him as nearly as possible about a quarter of an hour—I paid him £4, in gold, silver, and copper—he put the money in the drawer in the table desk in front of the office—I was standing on his right-hand side, close to him—I saw that the drawer contained gold, silver, copper, and a note—I cannot say what the note was—apart from the note I should think there was between £20 and £30 as near as possible; I cannot say whether it was £50; it might have been £50; I know there was a heap of money there—I said as we were going out on a case, "It is rather foolish of you leaving this money here with no one in the house"—he said, "Oh! pooh, pooh! nonsense! we have had more money than this in the house"—I said, "It is rather foolish of you to leave the money in the house "—as soon as he had my £4 he relocked the drawer, after putting the money in paper—we both came downstairs and went into the front room—we left the house together—from about twenty to seven till the time I left I was in the prisoner's company—we left his house just before seven—from twenty minutes to seven till just before seven (it might have been three or four minutes) I and he were together—while I was there I went into the office and into the front room—everything, as far as I could see, appeared to be in order—I did not smell the slightest smell of burning; I saw not the slightest trace of fire—the prisoner's office was lighted by oil lamps; I cannot say what oil—when he went out he left the lamp on the table in the front room down-stairs—he also left some matches by the side of the lamp, so that when he came in he could strike a light at once to light the lamp—he left nothing else that I know of, I did not see it—I did not see the ledger—when we left the house at seven o'clock he closed the door, pulling it to—I know Mr. Rogers—on 12th September, before we left the house, I and the prisoner had a conversation about Rogers; and in consequence of the conversation we went to Seven Sisters Road, to the house of which Mr. Rogers is manager—we went to insure his life—we saw him when we went in, but we could not get in at once, because he had some customers in the shop—we had a conversation with him—the prisoner and I went a little way down the Seven Sisters Road, and had a glass at a public-house—then I returned with the prisoner on a second occasion the same night—we saw Rogers, went away again, and returned a third time the same night—from the time we first saw Rogers on that night the prisoner was not out of my presence for a moment—when we went back the third time, we saw Rogers, and he effected an insurance with me and the prisoner together—it was the prisoner's introduction—Rogers did not leave the shop with us—after leaving Rogers, the prisoner and I went down Seven Sisters Road to call at another place in that road; we did not call there because it was too late; we noticed it was nine o'clock—that was the time we left Rogers's shop after insuring his life—we went down Seven Sisters Road; it was too late to insure the other person's life, and, meeting a friend, we came back again to the Nag's Head, which is about 120 yards from Rogers's shop, in the Holloway Road—the prisoner was with me then—we did not
go into the Nag's Head; I left the prisoner there and went home—it was ten minutes to ten as nearly as possible when I left the prisoner at the Nag's Head—I don't suppose I should have left him so soon, but some gentleman came up, and I left the prisoner in his company—I don't know his name; I don't know that I should recognise him if I saw him again—I recollect it was ten minutes to ten, because it is about ten minutes' walk from where I left him to my home, and they were just closing the shop where I live; they close the shop at ten o'clock—it is about ten minutes' walk from the Nag's Head to my shop—I had not been to the Nag's Head before—from twenty minutes to seven to ten minutes to ten, on my oath, the prisoner was not out of my company; he never left me for a minute, on my solemn oath.
Cross-examined. I was first spoken to about this matter a fortnight or three weeks ago; I cannot give you the date—it was some time last week—I told the story I have told to-day on the 13th to some friends of mine—I told it to my wife; I don't know that I told it to anyone else; I will not be sure—I did not think there was anything in the matter—I could not tell you when I next spoke about it after the 13th—I cannot tell you within a week—I cannot give the time, or place, or person—I think it was on the Tuesday in this week that I first saw the solicitor representing the prisoner—I am confident of that—I had a subpoena to appear here; I came here, and it was here I first saw the solicitor; I saw him jump out of a cab—I did not know him till he was pointed out—he did not take down any story from me; I did not see him till the evening—he made no appointment—I saw him in the evening, because after I had a subpœna I wanted my expenses—I saw him at Fenchurch Street, I think about half-past three in the afternoon—I did not go there on a question of expenses; that was one item in the case—that was the reason—I did not deny it just now—I went there about the expenses—I wanted money—he did not say I should have money—he said, "I have not got any money yet"—he did not say the expenses would be all right; he said he would see about the expenses after the case came off—I told him what I could swear to, and it was written down by a clerk—that was not on Tuesday afternoon, but on the Monday—I first saw the solicitor getting out of the cab on the Tuesday—it was Tuesday I went to the office about the expenses—the subpœna was served on me on the Monday night, and on Tuesday I saw the solicitor about expenses—I had 5s. with the subpœna—I might have mentioned this story to my superior, Mr. Hargreaves, between telling my wife and telling the solicitor's clerk—I told him I was with the prisoner that night—I cannot say when that was—it was not a week after the 13th—I could not mention anyone else—I might have heard of the prisoner's arrest a couple of days after; I would not be certain—I did not know at the time what he was charged with—I first knew he was charged with setting fire to his house on 12th September, when I saw it in the paper—on the morning of the 13th I went with him and the lodger, Mr. Jackson, to the Schofield Road Police-station—I was one of that party—I left him there—I saw the police; I did not speak to them—I did not go to the Police-court as a witness—afterwards I knew what he was charged with—he was not charged on 13th—I do not know the date of his arrest—I knew within a day of his being arrested—I saw some account in the paper of his being taken before the Magistrate, and I knew he was remanded—I went to the
Police court the first time he was there, I could not tell the date—I did not go on the second occasion, or on any subsequent occasion—I did not go to the Police court as a witness, and I was not called or examined there—to day is the first time I have appeared in the witness-box, and that I have told this story in public—I am very positive about this having occurred on the 12th—what fixes it as the 12th is that I had an appointment to meet another gentleman to go and insure a gentleman's life on the 12th—I am an insurance agent—there is nothing beyond having made that promise for the 12th—I have no memorandum that goes to show I met the prisoner on that night, or when I did meet him on that night—I had two gentlemen to insure that night—the prisoner let me in; I paid him over £4—no document passed tending to show that I paid him £4, or that he had received it—the £4 was my collection for that week; it was my duty to pay it to him—I have a book to show I collected it—there is no document from the prisoner showing that he received the money—he is my superintendent, and he was responsible for the money when I paid it—I paid it in the office—there is no document or memorandum showing I did pay it, or passing between us—it is not the first, second, or third time there had been the same thing—he put the money in the drawer in the table—I noticed the drawer particularly—I did not look at the face of the drawer to see if there were any scratches on it; I saw it when it was opened—I could not say what the bank-note in the drawer was—I saw gold, silver, and copper (£20 or £30) in the drawer—there were a lot of books of the insurance company on the shelf, and plenty of insurance papers, proposal forms, and so on, strewed about the tabe s—I had been to the prisoner's before, daily—I did not go often in the evening unless I had an appointment—perhaps I had an appointment once a week, sometimes oftener—I do not know what other witnesses are going to say—a witness knows I went there on the 12th, and I have a collecting-book showing I paid money on the Thursday—it does not show I went there on that day—I stayed there till just before seven—he locked the door—we both came down together—as we left the house he pulled the door to, and it locked by pulling it to—he took no key out; there was no necessity for that—it would take as near twenty minutes as possible I should think to walk from the prisoner's to Mr. Rogers'—from the end of our first visit to Rogers to the beginning of the second was from ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes—we went to and fro while customers were in the shop; I cannot say exactly how long we were absent from the shop; it was not more than a quarter of an hour—I cannot say how long we were away the second time; it might have been a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—when we came back the third time it did not take more than ten minutes insuring the man's life, because I had the preliminaries before-we did not get to Rogers' at twenty minutes past seven; it took more than that; we did not get there till just before eight, because we stopped on the road-we went into the Whittington Stone and had a glass of ale, and we had a glass at the Red Cap, and then we jumped on a tram and got there about eight—we had three glasses in all that evening—it would take us to nine o'clock to do what we did—the prisoner met a friend that night; I don't know him—we were just going to jump on a tram about a quarter-past seven; we got to the Red Cap, and then got on
the tram—the friend and we were all together; I don't know his name or address, or where to find him; I have never seen him since—he was the prisoner's friend, not mine—he remained with us a quarter of an hour; the prisoner spoke veryfriendly with him; he had a glass with us—a gentleman came up to the prisoner before I left him—I do not know him—I had these two gentlemen to see on that night, and the prisoner had one to meet—I did not give evidence at the Police-court, because I was not called—I was not called on the remand; that was the only reason I did not give evidence.
Re-examined. The morning after I was with the prisoner, the 13th, I went to the police-station; I did not see the prisoner's solicitor there—Mr. Dennison is the solicitor who now appears for the prisoner, and it was his clerk I saw on Monday; that is the clerk who gave me the subpœna, and took part of my proof—I saw Mr. Dennison in Court this morning.
HARRY ROGERS . I am manager of a boot shop at Seven Sisters Road—I have insured my life in the Prudential Insurance Company—the prisoner called on me about it, and one of the agents as well; it was on the 12th September last—I should think the first time they called was about a quarter-past eight; the shop was open, and I was serving customers, and they went away—they came back again, but the business was not done then; they came a third time, I should think about a quarter to nine—our time for closing is as a rule nine; on that evening we closed about a quarter past nine—after closing I went for a walk, and went to Highbury on a tram—I got back as near ten as possible; I got to the Nag's Head and met the prisoner there, outside; he was alone; we went in and had a drink there—he said he had just left the agent, and was going to walk towards home—I do not remember that he mentioned the agent's name—we left the Nag's Head together, and went towards Highgate—we got to the Archway Tavern about eleven—some drink was ordered, and while it was being served some person spoke to the prisoner—I do not know Freloi—I believe it was the waiter who spoke to the prisoner—there were other persons in the private bar—I think the person said, "Have you heard that your place is on fire, Rickards?"—he said, "Nonsense"—somebody else said it was right—he said, "We must run up and see," and he ran out of the bar, and I followed him—the drink was called for, but the barmaid had not served it—we rushed on to his house; we found it in charge of a policeman—the fire was out—we went over the house—all the drawers were broken open in each room—I was not called" before the Magistrate—I first heard mat the prisoner was in custody about a fortnight ago; I think the agent told me about it—I did not know who the prisoners solicitor was—I went to his new solicitor, Mr. Dennison, last Wednesday, and made a statement to him—I am sure it was on the night the fire took place that the prisoner called on me; I swear that—I am sure it was a quarter-past eight when I saw him.
Cross-examined. It was the night the insurance was effected that he called on me; that was the first time I insured in the Prudential—I did not pay any money—I named some particulars to the two agents—they took them down; my name, address, the amount to be insured, and so on; they took it down on a proposal form; that would bear the date on which the proposal was made—the insurance was not carried through; it did not go beyond the proposal; I have not seen that document since;
the prisoner had it—I did not hear of his arrest—I think I heard a day, or two before he was charged before the Magistrate, that he was in custody; I can't exactly say, because I did not think anything of this then—he was taken into custody on the 24th September; it would be somewhere about the 26th that I heard of it—I saw in the paper that he was before the Magistrate, and that he was remanded—I knew he was charged with setting fire to his house on 12th September—I did not go before the Magistrate; I did not know what I was wanted for—I have no time to go to Police-courts; that was the reason I did not go—I recollect Sergeant Macey calling on me one evening; I can't say how soon after the fire; I think he asked me if I knew the date when the fire occurred—I don't know whether I told him I didn't know; I don't think I did; I won't say I did not—it was true that I did not know the date; I know it now because this case came on soon afterwards, and I could remember about a week or so ago—I can't remember when I first remembered it—Mr. Harrod came and asked me if I remembered it, and I knew then that it was on the 12th—he asked me if I remembered the night that he called on me with the prisoner, and I said I did—I think he told me that it was the 12th September—when I was first asked about it I did not remember the date—I have not been in any trouble about a ring I had taken from a young woman, I had it given me—I believe she gave information to the police—I lost the ring; I do not remember showing it to the prisoner—I lost it two or three days after I had it; it was some time in May.
Re-examined. I was never brought to a Police-court about the ring—I was not manager of this shop at that time; I was doing nothing; I was out of business—Mr. Gill is my present employer; I went there with references—I have assistance in the shop—it was the night I saw the prisoner that I went with him to his house, and saw a fire there; I swear that was the same night that he called on me—I had never seen Sergeant Macey before he called and asked me about the date of the fire—I can't remember seeing Freloi at the Archway Tavern.
FREDERICK SMITH . I am a booking clerk to the South-Eastern Railway at Margate—on Sunday. 15th September, I remember getting into the Margate train at Faversham—I saw the prisoner in the compartment I got into—that train left London at 6. 20—in the usual course it would reach Margate at 9. 30, but on this occasion it was late; it arrived there at a few minutes past ten—that was the last London train.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about eleven years—I am a friend of his—I reside at Margate, and have done so twenty years—I do not often come up and down, not perhaps more than three times a year—on this occasion I was only up for the day; I came up in the morning and returned in the evening—to the best of my belief the prisoner came to Margate about 1880, and was living there till 1884—I fix the 15th September, because I was in London to visit my wife, who was here on a holiday, and that was the only day on which I was relieved from duty—I am not free every Sunday, only alternate Sundays—I have nothing to prove this was on the 15th beyond my own statement; I went to see some friends at Peckham; they are not here—I started from Ludgate Hill to return at 6. 22—the prisoner got into my compartment at Faversham; I did not see where he got out from—I met him in the refreshment-room—I had not seen him up to that time—I believe he said he got into
the train at Victoria; if so, I should not see him, as my train was a separate portion—this has been my next visit to London; I came up last Wednesday—I was first spoken to as to this date about the 22nd or 23rd September by Mr. Thorne, at Margate; he came to me—he asked me whether I saw the prisoner on the evening of the 19th; I told him I did not—that was all I believe that passed between us; there was no question about the 15th; it was after the prisoner's arrest that Thorne called; it would be the Monday or Tuesday after; the interview was very short—a visit to London is rather an event in my life, therefore the date was impressed upon me—my attention was first directed to the 15th when I was coming up on this case last Wednesday—I should have said it was when I met Mr. Foat, one of the witnesses, here, because I did not know actually what I was called on for—I met Mr. Foat at this Court after I arrived here—I asked him what I was here for, and he said, "To prove you met Mr. Rickards on this Sunday evening, the 15th"; of course he mentioned the date—I said I perfectly recollected the circumstance—that was the first occasion on which it was mentioned to me by anyone—the prisoner's solicitor paid my expenses up—the subpœna was served on me at Margate—I have no recollection of making any statement to anyone of what I knew—I saw in the paper that the prisoner was charged before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. I did not come up then—I was once in London this year previous to 15th September; that was in April—that was my first visit this year; the second was on 15th September—I saw my wife on that occasion—I am sure that it was on 15th September that I met the prisoner at Faversham.
HENRY FOAT . I live at Tivoli Road East, Margate—I am a grocer and provision dealer—I am acquainted with the prisoner—I remember seeing him at Margate on 16th September, at seven in the morning, at my shop; he had slept at my father's house that night—he returned to London at eight that morning; I saw him off—I saw him again at Margate on the 19th September, between half-past ten and a quarter to eleven at night—he came down that night, and arrived in Margate about a quarter to ten—he slept at my house that night—he had supper at my house, and was taken into custody the following day.
Cross-examined. He was taken into custody there on the 20th, and brought to London on the 21st—I fix the 16th because that was Margate Regatta—I had not opened my shop when he called—his wife was staying with me about that, time—he slept at my father's house on the 15th—I did not see him on the 15th at all; I first saw him on the 16th—I know it was the Monday before his arrest, that would be the 16th.
PERCY SCOTT . I am assistant to Mr. Foat—I know the prisoner—I saw him at Margate in September, once or twice—the first tune was on the 16th, about seven in the morning, at my master's shop—I saw him again on the 19th at my master's shop, in the evening, at supper, about a quarter to eleven; I had supper with him; he slept there that night—I am quite sure about the date; I can give my reason if required, because it was a benefit night at the Hall-by-the-Sea, and I had been there.
Cross-examined. There is more than one benefit night there, but they are for different parties—the 16th was Regatta day at Margate—I was first asked about this by the solicitor when I came to London on Tuesday—I came up with my master about this case, to prove that Mr. Rickards
was at our house at that time—my attention was first called to it a day or two after the 16th—I heard about the prisoner being charged before the Magistrate, it was suggested that I should come up and give evidence there—my master told me that perhaps I should have to come up to give evidence before the Magistrate, out he said I should not be required—I have seen Mr. Thorne at Margate; I don't remember the date, but he was there one day—he did not come to see me, he left his coat at my master's—I saw him and spoke to him—he did not converse with me about the case—I knew the prisoner was arrested; Mr. Thorne did not speak to me about it.
Cross-examined. I did not come up on subpœna; I came up with my master—it was Gus Foster's benefit on the 19th, I went to his benefit—it was after the prisoner was in custody that Mr. Thorne left his coat.
WILLIAM LAWRENCE . I am night watchman in the employ of the South-Eastern Railway—I know the prisoner by sight—I remember seeing him at Margate on 19th September, close on ten o'clock—I was standing at the station-door, he was coming from the Chatham and Dover Station—he asked me if Mr. Smith, the booking clerk, was in—I said, "No," he was off duty—he bid me good-night, and I bid him good-night—there was no other conversation—I am quite sure this happened on the 19th; I have a very good reason for remembering it, it was the very night I paid my club; I pay once a quarter, and I paid it that night, the 19th.
ALFRED HORNE . I am clerk to Mr. T. A. Dennison, solicitor, of Grace-church Street, who is acting for the prisoner in his defence—it was on Saturday last that Mr. Dennison first received instructions from some friends of the prisoner; the brief for counsel was partly prepared on Monday night, and I delivered it last Tuesday evening about half-past seven; the proofs of the four last London witnesses for the defence were taken by me last Monday evening when I subpœnaed them—the subpœnaed for the Margate witnesses were sent out for service on Monday evening—I took Harrod's proof partly then, and Mr. Dennison completed it on the Tuesday; the other London witnesses I took on the Monday—the evidence of the Margate witnesses was taken, and returned to me on Wednesday morning.
Cross-examined. Not all of them; two of them were in London—last Monday was the first time I had any communication with any witness, and then it was that Harrod and Rogers were seen—I saw Mr. Hensby, who has not been called, and Mr. Ray; I took their proof at their houses all separately—the proofs of William Lawrence and Mr. Smith were returned to me from Margate on Wednesday morning—Foat and Scott were in London at the time, and they came to Mr. Dennison on Tuesday, and he took their proof then—it was between Monday and Wednesday that the evidence was got up.
Re-examined, Mr. Ray is assistant-superintendent of the Prudential Company.
HENRY HARGREAVES (Recalled by MR. GEOGHEGAN). If an agent gets a proposal to insure a life, the proposal would first be sent to the medical referee, Dr. Thompson, of 57, Queen's Road, Finsbury Park; he
would keep the proposal until he saw the proposer, and he would then send it to the office—I have an impression that I have got the proposal for Rogers' life, I have not got it with me (It was sent for, and was afterwards said to be in Court, but neither counsel called for its production. The JURY wished to see it).
MR. HARGREAVES (Recalled). This (produced) is a regular form of a life proposal—it was handed to me by Sergeant Macey, whose signature is on the top—the date is in the prisoner's handwriting, but not the signature, "Harry Rogers" (MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN, referring to the document, stated that it was a life proposal by Harry Rogers, and was dated 12th September, 1889).
By the COURT. The payment of £4 by Rogers should be entered in a book called the ledger—it would not be the prisoner's duty to give a receipt; it is entered in that book—the book is at Stroud Green; I have seen it—the ledger did not contain any entry of £20 and a bank note, nor any other book that I saw; I merely saw the entry of the £4 in question—the £20 would be collected by the prisoner; that would scarcely appear in the ledger.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner for attempting to set fire to the house on the 16th, and also on the 19th. These were postponed to the next Session.
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 25th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
843. HENRY JAMES DALE (42) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling £50 of Henry Dale and Co., Limited, his masters; also to embezzling orders for £10, £12 7s., and £15 10s., of his said masters.— Judgment respited. And
MR. PICKERSGILL P prosecuted. SAMUEL HALL. I am a carpenter, of 13, Norwich Court, Furnival Street—on Sunday, 15th September, about 12. 15 a. m., I was in Cursitor Street, going from Chancery Lane, and the prisoner came up on my right side, and snatched my watch and chain—he ran towards Chancery Lane; I followed to a court; I lost sight of him for two seconds, and then a policeman brought him back, and I gave him in custody—I have not seen my watch and chain since—they were worth £7 10s.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw the constable bring you out of the urinal—I did not go in.
FREDERICK LAWRENCE . I am a boy at a barber's shop—on 15th September, about 12. 15 a. m., I was in Cursitor Street, and saw the prosecutor and a policeman—there were two little rows, and I spoke to he policeman; I stopped and noticed the prisoner following the prosecutor very closely; he went on his right side and got in front of him, and snatched his watch and chain, and ran away—I lost sight of him, but saw him again very soon after.
Cross-examined. I watched you for a few minutes, and I told the policeman instead of telling the gentleman—I watched your actions, and I ran after you with the constable—there was another man who went in at one side of the urinal, and the policeman at the other; it was not the prosecutor who went in.
CHARLES GODDEN (City Policeman 298). About 12. 15 on Sunday morning, 15th September, I was in Cursitor Street—Lawrence spoke to me—there was a disturbance there, and Lawrence drew my attention to the prisoner, and I saw him snatch the prosecutor's watch and run away—I followed him up Cursitor Street, through Bishop's Court, into Star Yard; when I got there I could not see him; I went into the urinal, and found him—I said, "I want you," and took him back to the prosecutor, who said, "That is the man who took my watch"—the prisoner said nothing—I searched him, but found nothing relating to the charge.
Cross-examined. The other person who went in lives in Chichester Rents—it is about 400 yards from the place where the watch was taken to the urinal.
By the JURY. The prisoner was rather the worse for drink.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, denied taking the watch.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
846. FREDERICK JACKSON (22), WILLIAM WHATTON (20), JOSEPH BASSETT (24), and WILLIAM CLARKE (43) , Breaking and entering the counting-house of the Railway Press Company, Limited, and stealing a calliper gauge and divers pieces of paper, their property.
JACKSON and WHATTON PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BURNEY Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended CLARKE.
WILLIAM OSCAR NICHOLSON . I am secretary of the Railway Press Company, Limited, 37, Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane—they publish two newspapers—on 16th September Rose Harris came and made a communication to me, in consequence of which I communicated with the police at Bow Street—we occupy the whole house—on 23rd September I left business at 6. 30 p. m.; I locked the front door, and left everything secure; I went there again at 8. 30, found everything safe, and again locked the door—about 8. 30 next morning the housekeeper came to me; I went to the office, and found it in disorder and a mess on the staircase—the contents of the drawers and documents were strewed about—I found a clock which had stood on the mantelpiece behind the street door, wrapped in brown paper—two other clocks had been moved from the premises; the letter-box had been broken open, and some letters are missing—I did not receive this cheque for £1 0s. 2d., payable to order, nor is this endorsement upon it my writing—the prisoner Jackson was in the company's service about twelve months ago, in the name of Martin, and I saw his writing from time to time—I have every reason to believe this endorsement to be his writing—besides the letters, this micrometer gauge (produced) was taken away—the cellar window had been opened; there was a mark of a blunt instrument, and a pane of glass was broken, through which the catch could be opened—one of my clerks went with Rose Harris to the police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. There is an area, with railings, before you get to the basement window—I locked the front door, and it was
locked when I returned in the morning—it is only a latch—I did not look it with a key—they could come out by the hall door.
ALEXANDER PRATT (Policeman E 386). On September 23rd, about 2 a. m., I was on my beat, and saw Bassett sitting on a doorstep dose by the Railway Press office—I moved him on—I picked him out on the 27tn at the station from a number of other men, and said, '' That is the man I saw "—he made no answer.
ROSE HARRIS . I live at White Hart Street, Drury Lane, a coffeeshop kept by Clarke, and the other three prisoners lived there—on Sunday, September 15th, I went for a walk with the four prisoners—when we got to Chancery Lane Clarke and Jackson parted—they went towards Holborn, and Bassett, Whatton, and I went another way towards Holborn—we turned to the right out of Chancery Lane, down the street where the Railway Press buildings are—Whatton and Bassett stood still there, and said, "That is all right, is it not? ''—I said to Whatton, "What did you mean by saying that is all right?''—he said, "Brown is going to break into the Railway Press to-morrow night"—Jackson goes by the name of Brown—we were out about two hours—we three went back to White Hart Street together, and Clarke and Jackson were there—Bassett or Whatton said, '' We have been down to that place"—one of them, I cannot say which, had a file, which they said was to be put in the fire and hammered out down to a point—I communicated with Mr. Nicholson next morning—Clarke put the file in the fire, and Jackson hammered it out on a flat-iron—on Monday night, the 12th, the prisoners went out, but first of all they told me there were two people on the watch—Jackson came in very late next morning—Jackson said when Clarke and Bassett were there, that there were two coppers on the watch—on the night they were out, the first Monday night, Bassett said to Jackson, '' You gave me the file in the street "—in the week before the burglary Clarke broke off one of the prongs of this fork and put the other into the fire—I said, "I know what that is for, "and told him it was for undoing the locks of drawers or desks—he said, '' That is quite right''—on Monday evening, the 23rd, Whatton, Jackson, and Miles, who is not in custody, went out from about 3 p. m.—Miles came back about two o'clock in the night, and then Bassett and he went out together; they came back about 5 a. m., Whatton and Jackson about seven—when they were all five together I said, "Where have you been?''—Whatton and Jackson said at first that they had been with two girls, but after breakfast there was a conversation between them all, and one of them said they had been to Southampton Buildings, and went upstairs and broke the desk and took out the papers, that they opened the area window and Jackson got in first and Whatton after him, and went upstairs to the top floor and took their boots off when they got into the passage—they said they had three enamelled clocks, and put them in a bag behind the front door, but did not bring them out, and they committed a nuisance behind the stairs—they had a cheque, and one of them said, "That is a wrong one; it has two lines across it," and it was torn up and burnt—I could not understand it, but I heard it said it had been forged—they were showing one another this gauge, and said they had taken it to two or three shops, but could not sell it or pawn it—after Clarke put the fork into the fire he tried it on one of the locks—on the Thursday I went to Mr. Nicholson again, and then to the station, where my statement was taken down.
Cross-examined by Bassett. You went out at two in the morning and stopped out till five.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. Since this case has been before the Magistrate I have been in a home—Clarke's place is a small eating house; he has a front shop and a back parlour—people only had tea there—we used all to have our meals together—Fred Holt took me there when I first went—I stated there three weeks—I don't think he stayed there at all, but he stopped rather late one night because there was a gambling club held there—I was not more friendly with Whatton than with the others—I lived there—I had no particular occupation—Clarke had no customers to attend to, only those who used to gamble—nobody came for breakfast; it sometimes did not open till dinner-time—it used not to be open at seven o'clock—the shutters may have been down at eight o'clock, but the shopdoor was always shut, and nothing was made at that time—it was after Mr. Nicholson gave his evidence that I said that the fork was for undoing locks and desks—the fork was not bent to undo a door which was locked—the key was in the door—when he put the fork in the door he took the key out—I did not tell the Magistrate that—I used to curl my hair with that fork, and I said, "You have spoiled my curling-tongs "—the file was put in the fire and hammered out on the Monday—on the Monday night that the robbery occurred they all went out of the house except Clarke.
HUGH THEOBALDS . I am clerk to the Buenos Ayres Great Central Railway Company, Finsbury Circus—on 23rd September I sent this cheque to the Railway Press Company—it would be delivered that evening—it was returned by our bankers after being duly honoured, endorsed as it is now.
EDWARD FREW (Detective E). On 26th September I received information from Mr. Nicholson and Rose Harris—I took Jackson, other officers took the other three prisoners, and they were all brought to the station and charged—in the meantime I had taken down Rose Harris's statement, and she had signed it; this is it—it was read in the prisoners' presence, and they made no answer—they were then charged with stealing three clocks, and Jackson said, "What are we charged with? stealing three clocks; I know where the clocks are, or where they should be; we left them at the Railway Press office "—the other prisoners said nothing to that—I saw Rose Harris for the first time that day—I had not said anything to her before she made that statement.
FREDERICK BARTON . On 26th September I went with Partridge and another officer, Frew, to Hart Street, and took Clarke—I remained behind with him after the other prisoners were taken to the station—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with the others—he said, "It is a bad job for me, and I am sorry that I am mixed up in it"—I picked up the overcoat he is now wearing, and gave it to him—under it I found this file with a flattened end, and said, "Who does that belong to"—he said, "It is mine; it has been here since I have been here"—I said, ''What do you use it for?"—he said, "To break coals with"—I found this fork on the mantelpiece, and said, ''What is this?"—he said, ''Only a bent fork"—he threw something into the fire—I snatched it off, and it was a number of pawntickets not relating to this charge.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I did not take a note of what he said at the time, but I did afterwards from memory—this is it—he did not say, "I am sorry I am mixed up with them," but "I am sorry I am mixed up in it. "
Clarke's Statement before the Magistrate. '' I had nothing to do with the robbery, and had none of the proceeds of it. "
Clarke received a good character.
BASSETT and CLARKE GUILTY .—JACKSON and CLARKE Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each ) WHATTON and BASSETT— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each.
HENRY SLADE COLMAN . I am a gardener, of 64, Brunswick Road, Upper Holloway—on 16th January I went into the Brunswick Tavern about 10. 13, and saw the two Churchmans and the prisoner standing together—I had some beer, and paid for some for the Churchmans and the prisoner, and wished them good-night, and left—they followed me; I told them I did not want them—one said, "Don't be in a hurry, governor; we are going your way "—I said, "I don't want you"—they surrounded me, and one of them put a handkerchief over my face, which made me insensible, but I well remember Robert Churchmans taking my purse and watch—I felt the prisoner's arm round me, and he took my pocket-knife and 5s. from my right waistcoat pocket—Robert Churchmans took four sovereigns from my purse, and put the empty purse back—the two Churchmans were arrested and convicted in February; I did not see the prisoner till he was at the Police-court in October—I am quite sure he is the man; I had seen him and Robert Churchmans together before—I identified him at the Police-court—he said that he was not guilty, and was somewhere else at eleven o'clock.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I paid for a pot of ale and had threepennyworth of rum—you were not called out of the house by your young woman at 10. 45; you were standing there when I left, and I wished you good-night.
EDWIN LUKIN . I keep the Brunswick Arms—on 16th January the prisoner and the prosecutor and two Churchmans and two or three others were there and had two or three pots of beer—when Coleman left, the prisoner and the two Churchmans followed him.
Cross-examined. You all went out together—I saw no woman there.
FRANCIS FREDERICK WYATT . I am deputy at a lodging-house, 8, Home Mews—the prisoner lodged there some time before January—on 17th January I saw him in the kitchen with the two Churchmans about 5 p. m.—on the day before that, between twelve and one on the night, between January 16th and 17th, Robert Churchmans gave me a watch and £2 to take care of—the prisoner was not present—I gave the £2 to the night man to give to Robert Churchmans in the morning, and the watch was given to the police.
Cross-examined. You came home without a hat—I told you at eight
o'clock on the 17th that Churchmans and his brother were drinking, they were both drunk.
Re-examined, I am sure the prisoner did not come in with the Churchmans on the night of the 16th.
JOHN TAYLOR (Detective, Y). On the 18th October I saw the prisoner, and told him I should take him for being concerned with two others in stealing £4 5s. and a watch from a man in Brunswick Road on January 16th—he made no reply—I took him to the station—the charge was read, and he said, "I know nothing about it; I was home at eleven o'clock that night"—he was placed with six others, and the prosecutor identified him.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that the Prosecutor insulted his young woman, but afterwards offered him drink, which he accepted, and went home by eleven o'clock.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
ANNIE WEIGHT . I am assistant to Harry Welbeke, an oil and colourman, of Stromer Terrace, Stamford Hill—on 25th September, about 12. 45, the prisoner stood on the threshold and said, "I want to buy some baths and pails"—they were outside, three or four yards from the door, and I went out to show them to him—he picked out two small baths and two pails, and asked me to send them to 64, Skinner Terrace, where he was going to open a shop, but would I send them first to Mr. Martin—while was talking to him a man came and asked me the way, and another came and talked to me about two minutes, while the prisoner looked on, and then left—this conversation was outside the shop—when the other man went the prisoner said, "I shall want some boxes and things"; and as he went away he flourished in the air his paper, with what he wanted on it—I went into the shop, and about two minutes afterwards a man came for the poor rate, and then I missed the cash-box, which I had seen safe at 12. 30, and there had been nobody on that side of the counter but myself—I was about five minutes talking to the prisoner with my back to the door—this is the cash-box.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. He was a perfect stranger to me—I described him to the police—I went to the station, and saw a number of men placed together, and was told that they were all charged with stealing cash-boxes, taken up on suspicion—one man was something like the prisoner—I did not pick the prisoner out at once—I walked along the row of men twice—they were making faces, so that you could hardly discern them—when I picked him out I was certain.
Cross-examined. I looked at the men very carefully, and am certain the prisoner is the man.
ELIAS BROWN (Detective, N). On September 25th I had information of this robbery, and on Saturday, the 28th, I went with the last witness to Kennington Police-station, where she picked out the prisoner from seven
others—she identified the cash-box; it was brought to me by a private individual.
Cross-examined. Eight men were apprehended on suspicion of being concerned in cash-box robberies—I do not know that four of them were discharged without going before a Magistrate.
ALFRED CAMPBELL (Detective L). I took the prisoner, and took him to Kennington Station—I was present when he was identified—I then took him to Stoke Newington Station, and he was charged—he said, "I was not there at the time, I was at London Bridge Station; I started from there by the five minutes past one train down to Maidstone Gaol to visit my sister"—afterwards he said, "It is a mistake; it was the Wednesday previous. "
Cross-examined. I was one of the officers who made the great raid on the cash-box thieves—we took eight men for identification, and four were discharged without going before a Magistrate; we had no evidence against them—another one, Walter, was tried the day before yesterday on two indictments, and acquitted on each, and discharged—a number of persons were taken to the station to see if they could identify any of the men we had got, and among them was Annie Wright.
Re-examined. We had information of various robberies—we circulated information, and arrested eight persons—your learned friend has talked about five, and of the remaining three, one was convicted in the other Court (see page 1192), one is awaiting his trial, and the prisoner is the third.
WILLIAM COOPER . I am a fishing-tackle maker, of Burr's Cottage, Bailey Lane, Tottenham—on 25th September I found this cash-box under a bush in a plantation in Mr. Button's field, about a mile from the prosecutor's shop.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PAYNE Prosecuted, and Mr. BURNEY Defended.
CAROLINE SUTER . I am a widow, and live at Cobham, Surrey—on September 13th, between 2 and 3 p. m., I got into an omnibus at King's Cross, going to Holborn—the prisoner got in at Gray's Inn Road and sat next me on my right—she had this jacket on her left arm, and she kept fidgeting about with it—I had my daughter on the other side—I felt a tug at my pocket, and found the prisoner's hand in it—I felt her hand coming out—I took my purse out, looked at it, and found it empty—I had taken my purse out after I got into the Omnibus and counted the money, and there were five half-sovereigns, a sovereign, and four shillings in silver—she left the silver in it—she got out and I spoke to the conductor, and jumped out and followed her—she got into the next omnibus which was following on—I looked in and said, "I want you, you have picked my pocket "—she came out in a moment and said, "No, I have not"—I said, "You have taken all my gold, you had better give it to me "—her right hand was full of silver; she said, "I will give you all this money if you won't charge me"—I said, "I don't want your money, I want mine"—she took a gold watch from her bosom and said, "I will give you this if you will not charge me"—she was ten minutes in the omnibus with me; her omnibus was going to London Bridge and mine to Ludgate Circus—I gave her in custody because she did not give me the money.
Cross-examined. The two omnibuses were going in the same direction as far as Holborn—she stopped the omnibus in Holborn, and got out—I was going to Ludgate Circus, not to London Bridge—I did not notice where the one she got into was going—this is my purse; it is easily opened—it was in my dress pocket—I found it empty, but the policeman found a sovereign and a half sovereign in my pocket.
THOMAS POLLARD (City Policeman 355). The prosecutrix gave the prisoner into my custody—they were on the footway by Furnival's Inn—she said, "She has taken all the money out of my pocket, five half sovereigns and one sovereign"—I said, "You had better feel in your pocket and see whether it has fallen out"—she did so, and found a sovereign and a half loose in her pocket—the prisoner had a handful of money loose in her right hand, and offered it to the prosecutrix if she would not charge her, and she pulled a gold watch from her bosom, and said, "I will give you my watch if you won't charge me"—she was searched by the female searcher, and one half sovereign and £1 12s. 3d. in silver and a gold watch were found on her.
Cross-examined.—The second omnibus was a Kilburn one, going to Fen-church Street, but the one the prisoner was first in was going to the Elephant and Castle, and would take her to the nearest point to where she was living.— GUILTY . She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at the Mansion House on July 19th, 1886, in the name of Emma Bailey.— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
850. GEORGE MUTCH (27) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Emma Pye, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm. The prosecutrix stated that she was struggling with the prisoner far a razor, and wounded her hands, and that it was entirely her own fault.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM HENRY BUDDON . I am an oilman, of 263, Roman Road—I fastened up my premises securely on October 1 about 11. 30—I heard a noise about a quarter-past twelve, and found the front door open and the door-post a little shifted—two of the wooden shutters were taken down from the outside, and the prisoner was putting them up again—it was moonlight—I caught hold of him; he slipped into the road and his hat fell off; I took it up; the police took him—he seemed to have had a little drink.
The RECORDER considered that there was no entering of the premises.
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAM KITTO . I am a greengrocer and poulterer, of 37, Gower Street—on 21st March I was at Spitalfields Market—I had a pony and cart and some baskets, turnips, rabbits, and fowls—I left it in charge of a cart-minder, and went into the market at 7. 45; I returned at 8. 45, and it was gone; the cart-minder said that he did not see it go—I saw it the next Thursday, the 28th, at the Green Yard; it was then empty, and the pony's tail was docked—to the best of my belief these baskets (produced) are mine—I saw them the same day that I lost the pony.
MARY ANN STEWART . The prisoner is my brother-in-law—I live at 16, Bath Street, Peckham—about five or six months ago, in March, I think, the prisoner came to my yard when I was washing, and I afterwards saw some baskets there—I did not notice who brought them—they were gone in the evening; I do not know who took them—I cannot swear to these baskets (produced), as they have no name on them.
ROBERT PENFOLD . I live at Plumstead Common—the prosecutor is my brother-in-law—he came to me on the day he lost his cart, and I enquired in Bath Street at Mrs. Stewart's, and found the baskets, and fetched a detective—they were taken to the station.
WILLIAM PEARCE (Detective H). On 14th September I saw the prisoner detained at Stone's End Police-station—I told him the charge—he did not say anything—I could not find Kitto for some time, as he had left, and was in Kent, so I charged the prisoner myself, and he was remanded for a fortnight—I named the owner of the cart to him, and told him it was stolen from Spitalfields Market—the owner's name was on the cart, but I did not see it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not tell me you knew nothing about it.
Prisoner's Defence. The baskets were found at my sister-in-law's place, but she did not see me put them there.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM JONES . I live at Victoria Chambers, Commercial Street—on Saturday, 5th September, I was in Commercial Street, and saw two men standing at the corner—one of them hustled me, and the other put his hand in my pocket and took out my purse containing three pawn-tickets and a florin, then ran off, and Golding commenced sparring up to me and knocked me down—I did not notice the other so much, but Flynn is about the same stature and age.
Cross-examined. My hands were held behind me—I was not shown these men among others; the first time I saw them was in the dock at Worship Street.
THOMAS BARNES . I live at 15, Vardon Street, Commercial Road—on September 5th I was in Brushfield Street, about 10. 30, and saw Golding holding Jones's hands behind him, and Flynn took his purse from his pocket and ran across the road—Golding then sparred up to Jones and knocked him down, to make believe it was a street fight—he then ran across the road, and Jones said, "Give me back my pawn-tickets; you have only got a dirty old purse, and 2s. in it"—I said to Golding, "Give the man his pawn-tickets back "—he said, "Go and——yourself"—I had seen the prisoners several times before, in the Shades public-house,
Bishopsgate Street, and am perfectly sure they are the men—I first saw them that evening about 7. 30.
Cross-examined. I have not been at the Shades nightly, only off and on—I have not been in their company; I have been in the same compartment with them—people were passing on the other side of the road—no one is here who saw the robbery but me—I have charged one of the prisoners' witnesses with assaulting me, and the charge is being investigated by an Alderman—I am a porter, and have worked for Nelson Brothers two years.
Re-examined. Mahurter assaulted me last Thursday night—the Magistrate put him under recognisances and bail besides, being told that this case was pending.
WILLIAM PEARCE (Detective H). On Sunday night, 6th September, about 8. 30, I saw Golding come from the Shades and go into Brushfield Street, where I took him—Barnes pointed him out—I told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to Commercial Street Station, and then returned to the Shades with Barnes, who pointed out Flynn with a man named Mahurter, and one who I do not know—I told Flynn I was a police officer, and should take him for assault and robbery of a man in Brushfield Street—he said "All right; I know nothing about it. "
The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Golding says: "I was in the Shades, and stopped there till eleven, and then went to the Glass House, and then to Bethnal Green Road, and went home. "Flynn says:" I was in the Shades. "
Witnesses for the Defence. JENNY HASSELL. I am barmaid at the Shades—the two prisoners used the house—I saw them both there at a quarter to ten on the Saturday night before the Sunday when Flynn was taken, when I went to my supper—I came back at 10. 15, and they were still there, but in a different compartment—Golding left at a little after eleven, and Flynn stayed till the house closed.
Cross-examined. I was first asked to give evidence last Wednesday by Flynn's mother—I knew on Sunday night, the 5th, that they had been charged. I did not appear at the Police-court the next morning.
Re-examined. I did not know on the Sunday night what Flynn was taken for.
JOHN MAHURTER . I am potman and cellarman at the Shades—I know both prisoners as customers—I saw them both there on the Saturday night before Flynn was taken from the bar on Sunday—Miss Hassell goes to her supper about 9. 45, and is allowed half an hour—I was up and down the passage—I noticed her go to her supper—both the prisoners were there then; they were in the house from 9. 30—I did not know on Sunday night what Flynn was taken for, and did not go before the Magistrate—I did not hear of it, but I went before the Magistrate on the remand, and gave my evidence.
Cross-examined. I was in the house, but was not in their company when the detective took Flynn—I first knew what they were charged with on the Monday morning—Miss Hassell said she knew they were in the house, and I said, "So do I"—they were both in the house when she came from supper, but not in the same compartment—I noticed that because I go up and down the passage to keep the children out—Golding left about
eleven o'clock; Flynn stopped till the house closed—I saw him go out——I cannot say whether they were there on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday night, but I can swear to their being there on Saturday—they are not friends of mine, but Flynn is a pretty regular customer—if I am wanted I go behind the bar in the morning, but as a rule I am cellarman—I have been employed there two years.
By the COURT. The house is 500 or 600 yards from Brushfield Street—it would take two or three minutes to walk.
KATE SULLIVAN . I live at 30, Bethnal Green Road—I know Golding—I was in his company on the Saturday before he was taken—we went to the Shades, in Bishopsgate Street, between 7 and 7. 30, and remained there till 11—he was in my company the whole of that time—I am sure he did not go out of the house between 10 and 11—I gave evidence before the Magistrate on the remand.
Cross-examined, I was not in Court when Teresa M'Carthy gave evidence—I know Flynn by sight—I did not see him that evening—he was not in the house, as far as I know—I was standing there all the evening—I am not there once in a fortnight—I may have drunk three or four glasses of beer—I was talking to Golding and his two sisters, Nancy Golding and Johanna Cook.
NANCY GOLDING . I am Golding's sister—I live at 13, Sweet Apple Court, Bishopsgate—on the Saturday night before the Sunday when he was locked up I was with him and Kate Sullivan and Johanna Cook at the Wooden Shades, Bishopsgate Street—we went there between 7 and 7. 15—I did not look at the clock—we remained there till 11—my brother never left the place all the night—I went to Worship Street on the Tuesday, and gave my evidence.
Cross-examined. Kate Sullivan came in a little after I did—I am not in the habit of going there—I am always at work till nine o'clock—I had a glass of ale.
By the COURT. I know Flynn—he was at the other end of the bar—I saw him as soon as I went in, but do not remember seeing him afterwards.
JOHANNA COOK . I live at 10, Montague Court, Bishopsgate Street—I am another sister of Golding's—on the Saturday night before he was locked up I went to the Shades, and took him with me, and my sister Nancy came in, and we stopped till a quarter or half past 11—all that time my brother was in my company—I am certain he did not go out of the house—I gave evidence before the Magistrate, and was bound over to come here to-day.
Cross-examined. Sullivan came in about nine o'clock, after my sister—I was talking to Golding all the time—I had a couple of glasses of aleand some peppermint, and I believe Sullivan had the same—I did not notice Flynn in the bar; I know him by sight—I generally go there on Saturday evenings—I was not there on the Friday or Thursday or Wednesday before—I was there the Sunday before—I did not see Sullivan there—I went in with Mrs. Canney to have a glass of ale—a woman told me she saw my brother going by with a detective, and I went and told my mother about it—I went to the station on the Sunday evening, and asked the Inspector what they were charged with—he told us, and we said that he was not there, and we were there the next morning, but the case was remanded—I left at 11. 30, and went to the Glass House, and
stopped there about half an hour, and went round to the Magpie to my husband.
TERESA M'CARTHY . I live at 2, Sand Street—I know Flynn—I heard on this Sunday night of his being locked up—on the Saturday night before that I went into the Wooden Shades public-house, and he was there when I went in—I remained till closing time, twelve o'clock—I gave evidence on the Tuesday, and was bound over.
Cross-examined. I know Mahurter, the potman, by going to the house—I saw him there on the Saturday night—I did not see Golding or Sullivan—I was with a young man in another compartment—Miss Hassell was there the whole evening, from the time I went in—she was in the bar, serving the whole time—she never left the bar—Flynn is a friend of mine—he is not a friend of Mahurter—he is a stranger—I had a couple of glasses of beer to drink.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, October 25th and 26th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
854. PHIRIZ MERVAN HAKIM (33) , for wilful and corrupt perjury in an affidavit made before Robert King, a Commissioner to Administer Oaths. Second Count, for perverting the due course of law and justice by using the said affidavit.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GRAIN and CLAYTON Defended.
THOMAS HENRY KNOTT . I am one of the clerks in the Central Office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce this affidavit of James Steadman, in an action between him and the prisoner, S 3339, sworn 25th August, 1888, and filed on 4th September, 1888; also an affidavit of the prisoner, of 19, Josephine Avenue, Brixton Rise, the Defendant in the same action, sworn on 3rd September—there is a correction of the third paragraph by a supplemental affidavit by the prisoner, sworn on 5th September—this is a summons for judgment under Order 14, signed by the Master—there is an order on that with the Master's (Mr. Kaye's) initials—that is dated September 3rd—I have also a lot of affidavits bespoken by the other side; I have been asked by the defendant to bring them—I did not produce all the papers at the Mansion House, I produced three other affidavits.
Cross-examined. I have a bundle of affidavits headed "Saw and Hakim," in the action of Saw against Hakim—I know nothing about that action—I suppose I have no other affidavits of Mr. Steadman beyond these.
ROBERT KING . I am a solicitor, of 16, Abchurch Lane—I administered the oath to the prisoner in this affidavit—the signature was then on it—I asked whether it was his name and handwriting, and he answered "Yes"—I could not tell who came with him.
SAMUEL SAW, JUN . I was admitted as a solicitor in September, 1878—I was a partner with my father at Deptford, 455, New Cross Road, and We have an office also at 32, Queen Victoria Street, City—my father has
been in the neighbourhood of Deptford for a great many years, and has held official appointments for thirty-five years—in 1886 I had to recover some debts for J. G. Cooper, who was engaged in the building trade—he was then living at 2, Josephine Avenue, Brixton Rise—after his bankruptcy he went from No. 2 to No. 19, where I think his sister lived—he introduced me to the prisoner, with whom I first had business relations at the end of 1886, I think—I have seen him living with Cooper, both at No. 2 and No. 19—I always believed the prisoner to be a man of means—he told me very early in our acquaintance that he had guaranteed Cooper's banking account at the Central Bank, Newgate Street, because Cooper was in difficulties—the prisoner purchased some freehold land at Kingston-on-Thames, built houses on it, and sold them—I acted for him as his solicitor; Cooper was the builder—Cooper was made bankrupt in May, 1888, I believe—the prisoner applied verbally to me to raise £100, at New Cross, I think—a few days or a week before 5th April he asked me if I could arrange or negotiate another loan of £80 or £100 as I had already negotiated two other loans for him—I said I would see what I could do, and while I was doing that he sent me this telegram on 6th April, "Please try Steadman"—acting on that authority, I wrote this letter to Mr. Steadman on 6th April, "Dear Sir,—Re Cooper. Dr. Hakim wishes us to inquire whether you are open to make an advance on the same terms as before. Please let us know to-morrow "—Mr. Steadman came to see me, either that day or the next—I communicated with Hakim—I said Mr. Steadman was willing to make another loan, on condition that Hakim would endorse the note himself, as he would not lend to Cooper alone, because he had found out that Cooper was in difficulties—I told Hakim that, and then he asked me to negotiate for £80 or £100, whatever Steadman would consent to lend; he preferred £100—I wrote to Steadman in consequence—there was no doubt another letter addressed to him after I had seen Hakim—something was said about collateral security—a lease of one of the Kingston houses, granted by Hakim to Cooper would be deposited—he offered that voluntarily, on the same terms as before—I communicated to Steadman—I had seen him before, after seeing Hakim, and telling him that he would have his name and collateral security, as before—Steadman consented to make an advance—this is the letter that Hakim sent me, dated 12th April, 1888; I altered it at the time in pencil to the 13th, because I thought it was a mistake (Read: "Dear Sir,—Herewith I enclose a promissory note, as required. Try and arrange it. I will see you in the City at twelve o'clock.—P. M. HAKIM.")—this is the promissory note for £100—it was signed by Cooper, and endorsed by Hakim—I had it in my possession; I held it on Hakim's behalf; my note is on it in pencil, "£100 loan "—Steadman brought the money to me at my office at the date of the note, the 14th April; he brought a £50 Bank of England note and £45 in gold—he deducted the commission for three months, £5—I charged £3 for my professional services, and Hakim had £92—the actual bank note and £42, the actual coins, were given to him at our City office on Monday, 16th April—I think I received the money on Saturday—I received this telegram, making an appointment, dated 14th April addressed to my firm: "Please reply if Steadman arranged.—HAKIM "—I have on it the copy of my reply: "Arranged, and Cooper to sign memorandum"—Hakim came without further appointment as
soon as he had my reply, and I gave him the money—I believe next month Cooper became bankrupt—Steadman had the deed as collateral security; it was a ground-rent of £3 a year—at the time of Cooper's bankruptcy the house was about two-thirds finished; it was roofed, but not finished; it was never finished by Cooper or Hakim—there was no value in the lease, because it had been disclaimed by Cooper's trustee in bankruptcy—that was the state of things when the money was paid over to the prisoner—the note was presented for payment in due course; it was payable at our office—it was dishonoured on the 17th July; I marked it myself, "Not provided for"—subsequently, in September I acted for Steadman in suing on the promissory note—before doing so I saw the prisoner on the subject—I told him it had been presented, and not paid, and he asked me to see if Steadman would agree to renew—I did not see Steadman—the prisoner did not come for some little time—I do not think I told him anything—I did not consider it likely that Steadman would renew, and, in fact, he had said he would not—he was not my client—he was so disappointed in the matter, I knew he would not—I then issued a writ dated 18th August, 1888—I acted from that time for Steadman; this is the statement of defence and the reply—the action went for trial—this is the judgment for the plaintiff for £105 and costs, dated 3rd May, 1889—the costs were about £70; they have never been paid—the prisoner was insolvent in July, not in May—I got no money from him, Steadman got nothing—the affidavits were before Master Kaye—the summons I took out was heard before him on 3rd, 4th and 5th September, 1888, and afterwards on appeal before Mr. Justice Denman—on the occasion of going before him, Steadman had prepared this affidavit—it was not used—the Judge said there was conflict, and we must have a trial—subsequently there was a trial by Jury before Mr. Justice Hawkins—Steadman's affidavit was never used or filed—I had previously given the other side a copy of it—this is the judgment on Master Kaye's order—it is that the plaintiff recovers against the defendant £100 principal and interest—judgment was drawn up on 3rd September—the prisoner appealed to the Judge, who decided that the Master's order be rescinded, and the defendants have leave to appear—the original affidavits came before Mr. Justice Denman, and he overruled Master Kaye, who had given unconditional judgment—the result of that was that the £70 costs were incurred—if Master Kaye's judgment had stood, the costs would have been £5—my client has got nothing for it—these two affidavits, sworn before Mr. Phillips and Mr. King, are in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. I first became acquainted with the prisoner in 1886—Cooper, a speculative builder, introduced me to him—I never financed Cooper—I had no interest myself whatever in Cooper's transaction apart from the prisoner—I had a pecuniary interest through him—I had charges for some time on the houses which Cooper was building—I have not accepted a single bill to assist Cooper—I have accepted no bills to give to the prisoner, knowing they were to assist Cooper—I have given acceptances to the prisoner to assist him in his business—his business is creating ground-rents in conjunction with Cooper—the bills I gave the prisoner were not to assist Cooper in his building transactions, they were given the prisoner to create ground-rents—Cooper was the builder under the prisoner—I know Messrs. Cobbold and Wooley, the solicitors—this is my letter. (This letter, dated 21st July, 1887, to Messrs.
Cobbold and Wooley, informed them that to assist Mr. J. G. Cooper towards proceeding more rapidly with eight houses at Clapham Common he had made him advances, and received from him charges on the houses)—I still say I only assisted Cooper through the prisoner, and not apart from him—the prisoner was the introducer of the whole matter—I did not directly finance Cooper—my banking account is at the South-Western Bank, New Cross branch—Cooper gave the mortgage to secure the advance as a charge to me—the prisoner was the principal—his name did not appear in the matter because Cooper was the only person having any legal right—I don't think I charged Cooper anything; I have no recollection—this is my letter to Cooper. (This was dated 22nd July, 1887, and thanked Cooper for the three guineas left by him re Clapham Common Estate.)—I suppose that was a payment—whether it was Cooper's money or not I don't know—he left the money, and I acknowledged its receipt—I don't think I charged him for the pecuniary assistance I gave him—I have had no money from him for many years—this was an exception; he left that money—if he brought money we should be glad to have it—I don't recollect in the least what that money referred to—this is my letter of 6th October, 1887. (This was addressed to Messrs. Cobbold and Wooley, and approved of Mr. Wooley having priority over any claim of his in respect of advances to Mr. J. G. Cooper, on houses now being erected on the Clock House Estate; and referred to sums already advanced, and about to be advanced.)—I had transactions with Cooper as agent for the prisoner—Cooper was the party—the advances of £3,000 referred to in the letter were not made by me, but by Mr. Wooley, and I waived my claim till he was paid—after those came the payments made by me at the prisoner's request—there was an action pending by me against the prisoner, but his bankruptcy stopped it—there were two actions going on by Steadman, one by Adams, one by Cook, and one by myself, against the prisoner—in one of Steadman's actions before a jury the verdict was in favour of the prisoner—that verdict has been set aside as unreasonable, and a new trial has been granted—only one acceptance of mine to the prisoner is still unpaid—I have to pay £300 to Mr. F. M. Cooper through the prisoner's default; I swear that is the only one—these are my two acceptances for £300 and £200—they are not paid; nothing is due on them—there has never been any demand for them, they are absolutely valueless—in my action against the prisoner the statement of defence and counter-claim were delivered—these are the pleadings—these are the two bills; I produced them at the Police-court—payment of the "bills was claimed in the counter-claim, but that was not for months after they were due—the pleadings were closed; I have not set the action down for trial; the defendant could do it at any time if he wished it tried—as three actions were pending, I thought we could wait for the fourth—I meant claim for payment on the bills had not been made; Counsel made a claim in the pleadings, the defendant did not—that was the first claim, and it was six months after the bills were nominally due—I daresay my father will be here—many of the bills were accepted in the name of Saw and Son—I don't think my father knew much about these matters, I attended to them entirely—my father knew very little about my transactions with the prisoner and Cooper till about 23rd August, 1888—he was in the office very frequently, but he knew nothing of the details—I don't think he knew I had accepted a number of bills in the
name of the firm—I don't suppose there is any authority in the deed of partnership between me and my father for me to accept bills in the name of the firm—I did this entirely on my own authority—I don't think there is any clause in the deed prohibiting a partner from accepting in the name of the firm; I am speaking without any recollection in the matter—I had no power to bind my father in any way, and he is not bound—one solicitor cannot bind another unless with express authority—I considered myself alone bound by the bills—I signed one, "Saw and Son," at the prisoner's request—the acceptance, Saw and Son, was intended to go forth as the endorsement of the firm, but I was primarily liable—I was sued by the Central Bank—an order for judgment was made against me, but the bank agreed never to draw judgment up because the prisoner paid the debt and cleared it up; it was partly accommodation—the prisoner was present when the Master made the order—the solicitor to the bank could have signed judgment at any moment—they wrote several times asking for the matter to be settled; they never threatened bankruptcy proceedings unless I did pay; I swear that—I was never to my knowledge threatened directly or indirectly with bankruptcy proceedings by the bank—I never heard from the prisoner or from anyone that he had been told they would take bankruptcy proceedings against me unless I took up the bills; I had not the slightest fear of any trouble—it was suggested to me in crossexamination at Southwark County-court, when the prisoner defended an action; he produced a letter to someone else, which said something about bankruptcy; I swear it—I did not go to the bank and plead for time; I saw the solicitor many times—I have seen Mr. Pitt, the manager of the Central Bank, Newgate Street, in the prisoner's presence—I think I went once to the bank with the prisoner, and saw him with Mr. Pitt—I said I was unable to take up the acceptances; I asked for time to pay them—I said Mr. Clinton was going to purchase the ground-rents—he did purchase them from the prisoner—I said money was going to be raised in that way—I swear I said they were accommodation bills—it was absolutely an accommodation transaction—I said at the Police-court, "The Central Bank, as a matter of fact, obtained judgment against me for £750 in respect of these bills. I had no defence. Hakim brought bills P and Q (these are the two bills in question) to me, and so relieved me of the judgment which had been obtained against me; there was only an order for judgment, no judgment was ever drawn up"—I only knew Mr. Strapp for about two months before he came to the Police-court—I do not know how the £250 bill, for which there was order for judgment, was discharged—that and the £500 bill were brought back to me on the 18th May—I don't remember ever making an advance to Cooper in cash; it was by cheque to Hakim or order in every case, except, perhaps, twice—the bills were for Hakim's accommodation—I never made advances direct to Cooper, except in one or two instances—I think on two occasions I gave Cooper a cheque because the prisoner could not come, and he requested me to do so—the £250 and £500 bills were drawn by the prisoner on me purely for his accommodation; I explained that to Mr. Pitt—I, as drawer, was liable first—they could have sued the prisoner; I don't know of any case in which they sued him—a portion of the £92 paid by Steadman was not paid to Strapp, nor was a portion paid to Gibbons—I handed it to the prisoner—I have found out that the bank notes were paid to Mr. Strapp's
account—I don't know that Strapp, in consideration of being paid the money, gave his acceptance, which replaced my acceptance at the bank; some suggestion of it has come to me—I did not know till twelve months afterwards that the prisoner saw Mr. Pitt, who said he would take bankruptcy proceedings unless an arrangement was made with reference to one bill—I should believe what Mr. Pitt says—I knew twelve months after the event that the prisoner got an acceptance from Strapp—Strapp has not told me that the £250 bill accepted by me, and on which an order for judgment had been drawn up, was taken up by means of Strapp's acceptance for £250, which he gave in consideration of receiving £92, which was obtained from Steadman—all that I know he had was £50 in bank notes, traced to him through the bank—I know nothing about Gibbons having it—I do not know that the Central Bank received an acceptance of £250 of Strapp, on which they released my acceptance for £250—I suppose the prisoner paid the £500 bill; he was to do so out of his ground-rents—he brought me the £250 and £500 bills; I never paid them; I was not bound to do so—he went out of my office with the money from Steadman; I cannot say if he retained it—I have no knowledge whether he had any benefit from it—other witnesses will show what became of the money—I swore an information with Steadman—I was very friendly with the prisoner for a long time—he came to my house one evening, and I introduced him to my wife—I was his solicitor, acting for him in money matters—I charged him ordinary fees in some cases; he owes me over £1,000 at the present time—I involved myself in these liabilities because I was the victim of the confidence trick—I had such a high opinion of the prisoner I thought I was safe in trusting him to any extent—he said at the Bankruptcy Court he had lost £500—he took up bills when he had the money, and was liable—he has provided for several thousand pounds worth of bills in accordance with his promises—I believe he was arrested on a warrant—that was not on my advice—I caused a paragraph to be put into the information that there was a warrant out against him from the Bankruptcy Court, and for that reason I did not think he would answer a summons—there was a warrant from the Bankruptcy Court against him, but not in force—when the warrant was out he paid the money, about a year before—he brought me the money, and I went with him to the solicitor, who caused the warrant to be taken out—I paid the money; I made no charge for that, but he gave me a guinea for it afterwards—I did not prepare the information—I did not intend the Lord Mayor to understand that there was a warrant out in operation against him at that time—I acted as his solicitor for six months after that—he complained of a warrant being taken out from the Bankruptcy Court, and thought it very sharp practice—I agreed with him at the time, not knowing the facts; yet I mentioned about that warrant in the information—he has frequently told me there was nothing to keep him in England; that as a doctor (he is a qualified surgeon, but has never practised) he had only to put up a brass plate, and he could get his living anywhere; so that I did not think he would answer the charge—this was twelve months after the bankruptcy warrant, and I had ceased to be his solicitor—Mr. Steadman is the prosecutor—I hope he is to pay the costs of the prosecution; I don't want to do so—here are his instructions, dated 7th May, 1889—we took steps in bankruptcy, but
did not recover the money—the £250 on which I was sued was not to my knowledge in reference to the Clock House Estate—I made this will for the prisoner of 6th October, 1887—I also wrote this letter of 9th August, 1886.
(MR. GRAIN objected to the Second Count of the indictment. MR. BESLEY having replied, the COMMON SERJEANT (after consulting MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN) ruled that without deciding whether the Second Count was good, he should withdraw it from the JURY, and leave the case to go to them on the First Count for perjury.)
Re-examined. Cooper had a building agreement for the Clock House Estate, Clapham Common—the prisoner was supplying the money—the letter of 9th August, 1886, refers to Cooper's building—the prisoner was financing him then, and they were living together—Mr. Wooley was finding advances for the Clock House Estate as the houses proceeded, but meantime the prisoner was finding money, and got me to assist him to some extent, and he got Cooper to give me a sort of charge—this letter approves of Mr. Wooley having priority; subsequently the charge was cancelled at the prisoner's request, and F. M. Cooper took over all the securities—I proved in the prisoner's bankruptcy for about £1,400—Cooper's trustee has made no claim against me—in the prisoner's will of October, 1887, he left his property in England to me as trustee, and I was to pay his debts, and hand over his residue to the nextof-kin—I should take what was owing to me among the rest—the bills for £250 and £500, due on 24th and 27th March, 1888, were made on 24th October; they were endorsed, and were in the hands of the bank—I had not a farthing out of them—the £750 was used by the prisoner for the purpose of his business transactions—the other three bills the prisoner obtained for discounting, but the bank manager, I suppose on account of Cooper's instability, refused to discount, and they are absolutely waste paper—I should think they never were discounted—they fell due on 18th May, 4th July, and 10th June, 1888—from 4th July to 27th November, 1888, when this amended claim and counter-claim were put in, no one applied to me for payment on account of those bills, and I never heard about them—the prisoner has never endorsed them—this is an indemnity signed by the prisoner to indemnify me against all bills. (This was signed 13th April, 1888.)—I had no consideration for these five bills; they were brought to me after the indemnity—I never knew when the prisoner applied for the second loan of £80 or £100 what he wanted the money for—I never heard till November that he was not liable—he never suggested it—he said nothing at all as to what he was going to do with the £92 when he took it—I applied to him for these bills, but as they were not going to be used, he told me on his word of honour that all signatures on the bills were cancelled, and that they were harmless; that they were in the pocket of an overcoat at Nutfield, where Cooper had moved to on his bankruptcy—that was in June or July, 1888—when he exhibited them to his affidavit I found the signatures were not cancelled—the claim in my action was for £450, which I lent him for seven days on his personal undertaking to repay it; it was never repaid—he wrote out the whole cheque, and endorsed it, and Cooper signed it—that is part of the £1,400 I have proved against the estate—he brought a cheque signed by Cooper, and filled it up and got the money from me on it for seven days—he wrote, asking me not to pay it in—Miss Adams
sued on a loan, and the prisoner had to pay—the second action of Steadman referred to a prior loan of £80; it was tried after the action on the £100 promissory note—the motion for setting aside the judgment, before Mr. Justice Denman and Mr. Justice Charles, was as to whether the banking account, although Cooper's, was for the benefit of the prisoner, and only nominally Cooper's—these are the shorthand writer's notes of the trial—judgment was given by Mr. Justice Charles in my favour—the prisoner set up a counter-claim on the three bills, in spite of his indemnity, and in spite of his promising to get them from the great coat—it was hopeless my going on with my action; two were pending against him by Steadman, and one by Adams—three came on before his bankruptcy—Adams got judgment, but recovered nothing—I have no inclination to go on since his bankruptcy.
By MR. GRAIN. This is my affidavit of 11th August, 1888; it refers to two bills for £250 and £500, but there is no reference to the three other bills there—these are not the same bills—this affidavit does refer to the three bills you put to me.
By MR. BESLEY. What he says in his affidavit is absolutely false—between May and August no demand has been made on me—the £750 was not my debt—I answered that very specifically; I don't know if in these affidavits—there were eleven affidavits before Mr. Justice Denman—with one exception, I have never received money for bills drawn by me; they have been discounted by the prisoner—this is the actual indemnity.
JAMES STEADMAN . I live at 16, Douglas Street, Deptford—I make loans on security—on 16th December, 1887, Mr. Saw, jun., applied to me to lend money for the prisoner—the first transaction was a promissory note for £80 at three months—when that was due on 19th March it was renewed, and at the same time they wanted another loan of £80 payable at four months—on 14th April I was applied to for £100—I got this promissory note, endorsed by the prisoner—I gave Mr. Saw £45 in gold, and a £50 Bank of England note, and as collateral security I got a three guinea lease of a house not finished at the time, 3, Florence Avenue—just before the promissory was due on 14th July, I wrote to Hakim to remind him that it was coming due on the 17th, and asked him to meet it—this is a copy of the letter; I sent it by post, and never had it back—on the 17th I sent another letter to him, and one to Cooper, stating the note had been presented, and was dishonoured by non-payment—I had sent many letters both to the prisoner and Cooper to that address, Josephine Avenue, and they never came back—I did not get a farthing on the judgment for £100 9s. 5d., which I obtained in May this year—I brought another action in reference to the other loan where Cooper's name alone was used—on the subsequent loan I declined to lend on Cooper's name, and got the prisoner's and the collateral security—I have been paid no money at all, only the interest when the notes were given.
Cross-examined. I had not seen the prisoner until these legal proceedings; I had no letter from him, and knew nothing of him except what Mr. Saw told me—all my negotiations were with Mr. Saw, jun.; I know him and his father—he told me that the prisoner was a doctor in a good position, and well to do—Cooper was a stranger to me—Mr. Saw said that the prisoner and Cooper were working together—I did not know that Mr. Saw had had a lot of transactions with the prisoner—from beginning to end I relied on what Mr. Saw told me, believing his statements were correct
—I do not know of my own knowledge whether the prisoner received any consideration for the promissory note beyond what Mr. Saw told me—I do not know whether the money was borrowed to pay a bill on which Cooper and Mr. Saw were liable—I swore a joint information with Mr. Saw against the prisoner at the Mansion House—I was asked there whether the information was true—I never trusted Cooper; I looked to the prisoner—I knew that the second transaction with Cooper was no good—I wrote to him because I thought I was in duty bound to write to all the parties on the note—I wrote to him and the prisoner to the same address; they were living together—I posted the letters together—I don't know whether the prisoner received his notice or not; I have never spoken to him—I have had an action in which the prisoner was successful; I was successful in this other one—no one has got anything in the case but the lawyers.
Re-examined. There was discussion among the judges whether I should have a new trial, and they ordered a new trial; I have gone no further in the matter; no one else has—when I sent the letter to Cooper he had been bankrupt two months—I merely sent the notice of dishonour to comply with the law—Cooper and the prisoner wanted the further loan—I saw Cooper at the time of the second loan at Mr. Saw's office—the prisoner was not there—I do not remember any conversation—I lent my money on the note being brought with the collateral security—I had no reason to doubt the statements Mr. Saw made to me—I heard all that was said by Mr. Clayton and his witnesses—it did not alter my judgment—the personal knowledge I had was what Mr. Saw told me—the £50 note I gave to Mr. Saw myself—I know that in crossexamination the prisoner admitted that he required the loan—I was present at the trial—I remember the telegram being handed up—I took the number of the £50 note, it was 56748, 16th July, 1887—I swore the information at the Mansion House on 9th July; at that time Hakim was bankrupt.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am a clerk in the Bank of England—I have charge of cancelled notes—this £50 Bank of England note, No. 56748, 16th July, 1887, came in on 21st April—J. G. Cooper, 2, Josephine Avenue, Brixton Hill, is on the front of it—in place of it I gave out these four £10 notes, 42329 to 42332, which came in again on 25th April from the London and South Western Bank, head office.
CHARLES DENTON . I am a cashier at the London and South-Western Bank, head office, Fenchurch Street—Mr. John Strapp, an accountant of Surbiton, has an account there—on 24th April £50 was paid to his credit in four £10 Bank of England notes and two £5 notes; they were the notes given by Mr. Williams for the £50 note—Mr. Steadman's name is on one of the notes.
FRANK PHILIP BAYLIS . I am a ledger clerk in the Central Bank of London, Newgate Street. I know the prisoner from his coming into the bank in reference to Cooper's account—I produce fifty-one guarantees of Cooper's account, signed by the prisoner—the prisoner opened an account
there in November, 1888—it is still open; there is 4s. to the credit, I think—we had the prisoner's policy on his own life for £2,000—the guarantees are various dates, 8th July, 1886, 29th April, 1887, and so on.
Cross-examined. Mr. Pitt is manager of the bank—Cooper opened his account in June, 1886; I cannot swear that prisoner had anything to do with opening it—these are guarantees for the various amounts stated on the guarantees—I believe they are all letters from the prisoner guaranteeing acceptances for Cooper—the prisoner guarantees that if the person who has accepted the bill does not pay he will—I said at the Mansion House in reference to these, "Hakim did not, as far as I know, guarantee Cooper's account with the bank; his guarantees were confined to these particular amounts"
Re-examined. This one of October 8th; 1886, guarantees nineteen bills, amounting to £564, with the prisoner's signature at the end—he guaranteed some hundreds of amounts—many of the letters were for more than one amount, I believe; here are some with four, six, three, seven amounts, and so forth—some names appear again and again, Strapp, Rowe, Heaven.
JOHN STRAPP . I am an engineer, of Claremont Road, Surbiton—I had transactions with J. G. Cooper, of 2, Josephine Avenue—I have often seen the prisoner with him—I had a bill for £50, which I had accepted, falling due on 24th April, 1888, at the London and South-Western Bank head office—I was drawn into a brick business by a limited company—Cooper had a number of bricks of me, for which he gave trade bills; other bills of even amounts were accommodation bills—I got Cooper's acceptance, not the prisoner's, for the debt for the bricks—those I suppose I should take to my bankers—all the bills for even money might be for Cooper's accommodation; there might be exceptions—when Cooper went bankrupt he owed me somewhere about £2,000, I daresay for bricks, I don't know the exact figures—to some extent I think that was covered by the bills, but they were useless as they had not been met—the prisoner guaranteed Cooper's debts—when the prisoner went bankrupt he owed me nearly the same amount—the £50 bill was for timber—it fell due on 24th April, and was lying at the London and South-Western Bank head office—I was responsible to Cooper for it, as I had accepted it; the prisoner had nothing to do with it—I don't know whose hand conveyed the money to the head office to meet it; it was not paid to me—I took the bill up afterwards—I was charged with it, and £50 went into the bank; for it I was credited with £50 on my general account, I should say—but for the £50 payment I should have been a creditor of Cooper for £2,050 instead of £2,000.
Cross-examined. I gave the prisoner an acceptance about 25th April, 1888; as far as I recollect he asked me about that date to give him this acceptance for £250, and I did so on condition that he would pay the £50 to my account and give me the leases of certain property at Kingston for security, within three weeks—I gave him the acceptance, and it has been met and paid by me—I never had the leases—he would expect the £50 to be a credit to the £250, helping to meet it—£50 was paid in to my credit, I understand, by the prisoner—the acceptance was paid through the main office of the South-Western Bank, I think—I believe I gave it up with all my papers at the bankruptcy proceedings—I should think it was very probably a five months' acceptance—I believe
after that the prisoner obtained another acceptance from me for £500 about May 17th; that was accepted and paid by me; that bill went into the bankruptcy, I believe, when I proved against one or other of the estates—I handed my solicitors, Messrs. Barnard and Co., of Lincoln's Inn Fields, all the acceptances I could find—I have no doubt the payments would appear in my pass-book—I saw nothing of Mr. Saw in this matter; I have no interest in the matter one way or the other, except that I am a loser in the interminable law proceedings—Mr. Gibbons, of Ludgate Hill, is an agent of mine, and he was so in April, 1888.
Re-examined. If it was an accommodation bill I should make it payable at my bank—besides the bills they met they still owed £2,000 on the balance—I don't remember these other bills: 24th January, £107; 24th August, £150; 6th May, £150—I cannot say how many bills were floating at the same time for Cooper's accommodation—Mr. Saw's name was never mentioned; he might have said what he wanted it for, I don't remember—I did not see Mr. Saw till a week or two before the trial in May, 1889—I think I was subpœnaed to prove the £50 which the prisoner handed to me—the £50 and the promise of the lease induced me to give the bill; I should not have given the bill on condition of the £50 only—the prisoner never brought the lease, I got no security at all—I have lost £200, the difference between £250 and £50.
Saturday, October 26th. WILLIAM COCKS. I am a shorthand writer of Chancery Lane, acting for Messrs. Treadwell and Wright, shorthand writers—I have here the shorthand notes of the transcript of the cross-examination of the prisoner on the action of Steadman against him on the bill of exchange—these are the two telegrams and the letter referred to in them—and this is the promissory note for £100 on which the action was founded—Mr. Scrutton appeared for Mr. Steadman and Mr. Clayton for the prisoner (The shorthand notes were put in and read.)—I did not take the notes at the proceedings before Mr. Justice Denman and Mr. Justice Charles on 28th June, 1889.
WILLIAM JAMES BRADLEY . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Morton, Cutler, and Co., solicitors to the Central Bank, Newgate Street—I have been subpœnaed both for the defence and the prosecution—I had conduct of the legal proceedings in reference to the two acceptances for £500 and £250 marked P and Q—they had been discounted by the Central Bank through the account of J. G. Cooper. (The £500 bill was dated 21st of November, 1887, and drawn at four months by Hakim, and accepted by Saw and Son. The £250 bill was dated 24th October, 1887, and was drawn at five months by Hakim, and accepted by Saw and Son.)—I issued a writ, dated 29th March, 1888, against Saw and Son, and Saw, jun., the acceptors of the two bills—after the writ had been served I saw both the prisoner and Mr. Saw, jun., on more than one occasion—the prisoner said neither Mr. Saw, jun., nor Saw and Son had ever had a penny piece of the money for the bills—I have heard reference to ground-rents—I understood the bills were given by Saw and Son for the accommodation of the prisoner until money was obtained by Mr. Saw or his firm upon mortgage of some property or other; what it was I don't remember—there was application for judgment under Order 14, and I obtained an order for judgment on the 8th April, 1888; whether it was by consent or not I cannot remember—there was a formal affidavit by Mr. Pitt on which
judgment was obtained—the acceptor of a bill is primarily liable, and the practice is to sue him first—on my suing Saw, jun., the prisoner saw me several times with reference to the matter—my recollection is he was present when the order for judgment against Mr. Saw was made by the Master on 8th of April—subsequently the prisoner took up the £250 bill on 24th April, 1888, and then I was instructed not to proceed—judgment was not signed; I did not go on with the action after what the prisoner told me, because Cooper's account would come right, and we should not have to press Mr. Saw—he did not sign judgment with regard to the other acceptance—Mr. Saw was not asked by the bank, after we got this judgment, to pay—we sued on 6th April, on the £300 acceptance, by Mr. Saw, dated December, 1887, drawn by the prisoner, and endorsed Saw and Son and J. G. Cooper—that is a third bill; it has never been paid at the bank, as there was a reserve balance, and the prisoner said the bills were good, and if we allowed payment of this bill to stand over, the reserve balance would be sufficient to pay it, and that was so, with the exception of £20, or something like that—Mr. Saw paid £25 14s. 7d. with regard to the £300 bill; that was all we required to balance J. G. Cooper's account; there is nothing due to the bank on his account, so I am instructed—I knew when the action was proceeding of the guarantees by the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I have a note that Strapp's acceptance was taken up by the prisoner, and I have no doubt I was present then; I have a recollection of being present; how it was taken up I cannot say—Saw's £250 acceptance was taken up by replacing it with Strapp's—Saw's was given back to him and produced to-day—when we first started the action, and until the prisoner took up the acceptance, I threatened to go on with the order for judgment; whether I threatened bankruptcy proceedings in so many words I cannot say; I did my best to get the money—I put on pressure.
Re-examined. Bankruptcy proceedings were impossible till I had signed judgment—there could have been only a week during which I could threaten bankruptcy proceedings—I have no recollection of mentioning anything of the kind—I have no letter in my letter-book about it—I have no recollection of ever being employed in reference to three other bills in a great-coat pocket in the country—I never heard anything about them.
ROBERT CHILD (Detective Sergeant, City). On 8th August I saw the prisoner at Avenue Villa, Nutfield, Sussex—I said, "I am a police officer, and I have a warrant for your arrest"—I read the warrant; it was for wilful and corrupt perjury—he said, "What do you wish me do?"—I said, "Go with me "—he said, "Where?"—I said, "To the City "—he said, "What then?"—I said, "You must go to the police-station, where you will be detained for the night"—he said, "What about to-morrow?"—I said, "I shall have to take you to the Mansion House to-morrow "—he said, "Cannot you leave me here till to-morrow? you may take my word I will come"—I said, "No; I cannot"—he pressed me several times—I said, "I dare not do it, I should not be allowed to do it"—the house I found him in was J. G. Cooper's—I knocked and rang several times before I could get in—I was there eight or ten minutes perhaps from the time of my first knocking.
Witnesses for the Defence. GEORGE PITT. I am the manager of the Central Bank, Newgate Street—I opened the branch about twelve years ago—I was manager at the time Mr. Cooper opened an account at the bank—I think we have had the account between two and three years—I think it was opened in 1886—with regard to the guarantees that were given by Hakim, he (Hakim) was simply a guarantor against the bills I discounted for Cooper—I understood the acceptances were trade bills—I made inquiries before discounting them—after the order for judgment of 18th Aprils I saw Mr. Saw and the prisoner with reference to taking up the bills—Mr. Saw strongly asked me not to press the matter—I said I should certainly instruct my solicitors to sign judgment and institute bankruptcy proceedings unless the money was paid, as I could not allow the matter to go on any longer—about 27th April the prisoner brought me a bill of Strapp's—before that he came and asked me if I would take £100, and give Saw, the man I was suing, credit for that amount—I did not think it was enough, as we had a lot of bills—I assumed he had the £100 somewhere about him—he said, "I have £100"—I refused to take it—I said unless the matter was settled I should instruct our solicitors to go on with the bankruptcy proceedings, as I should not allow the matter to go on any longer—Mr. Saw was not present; the order for judgment for £250 was relieved by this bill of Strapp's of 25th of April—I think the prisoner brought it to me and I discounted it for Cooper—I gave Mr. Saw credit for £250—I gave the bill for £250, on which we had got order for judgment, to the prisoner by Cooper's instructions, taking in substitution Strapp's bill—I discounted it on Strapp's bill.
Cross-examined. Mr. Strapp paid his bill on 28th September, 1888—I had a great many bills of Strapp's, all for even amounts, I think—I did not know they were accommodation bills—I should not have taken them if I had known they were; if every bill of an even amount was looked on as an accommodation bill we should do no business at all—I thought they were genuine business transactions—Cooper's account put right the yielding up of the £250 bill to Saw—the balance we held against Cooper's account when all the bills under discount were paid off paid the balance on Mr. Saw's bills—Mr. Saw paid the difference due to the bank—I don't know about the date—the bills had run off earlier than December—I should not receive anything paid in after his bankruptcy—the 27th April is the date of the last discount on behalf of Cooper's account—he became bankrupt in May—the account was not closed, and on the 27th April we had the bills in suspense—we charged £6 6s. 7d. for discounting Strapp's bill—as far as the current account was concerned the last transaction was on 27th April, but I kept the bills in suspense, that was a different account—I have not got another account of Cooper's—I had nothing to prove against his estate, because I had the £25 from Mr. Saw—I never had a copy of the prisoner's account—these twenty-seven cheques by Saw, jun., in favour of the prisoner, went through our bank credited to Cooper's account—when we got the order for judgment Mr. Saw told us the bills of £500, £250 and £300 were simply accommodation bills, for which he never had 6d.—I am not certain if the prisoner was present then—Mr. Bradley may have told me about it—I approved of Mr. Bradley's conduct as our
solicitor; everything they did I approved of—I was cognisant at the time that the £300 and £500 bills were allowed to run off Cooper's account to see if there was a balance applicable to them—I don't dispute the date my solicitor gave for our getting £25 14s. 7d. from Mr. Saw, jun. Re-examined. The prisoner had a small account at our bank, some considerable time after this of Cooper's—the account of J. B. Cooper was Cooper's account only—I have asked the prisoner to give a general guarantee of Cooper's account, and he has refused—all these guarantees produced are in respect of Cooper's customer's acceptances—everyone of Mr. Strapp's acceptances are now discharged and honoured, and they include his £250 acceptance, which replaced the dishonoured acceptance of Mr. Saw for the same amount.
GEORGE GIBBENS . I am a barge-owner, of 19, Ludgate Hill—about 20th or 25th April I had business transactions with Mr. Strapp; I was his agent in connection with my own business—I had become acquainted with the prisoner; and there had been transactions with Cooper which had been met and guaranteed through the prisoner's instrumentality—the prisoner called on me, and asked me if I would get him an acceptance for £250 from Mr. Strapp, as he had some liabilities at the bank which he must remove as speedily as possible to prevent Cooper and others being made bankrupt, Cooper then being very heavily indebted to Mr. Strapp—I said to Mr. Strapp, in trying to get the acceptance, that it possibly would save Cooper from bankruptcy—Strapp said he would do it on condition that he obtained from Cooper or the prisoner some leases which had been previously mentioned by the prisoner to Strapp, but I told the prisoner before I could do that I must ask him to pay me something on account of Cooper's indebtedness to me—that was about 22nd or 23rd April I think—I was then holding a dishonoured cheque of Cooper's, which I asked the prisoner to take up, and I also held a £20 cheque of Cooper's, which had not been presented at his request—the prisoner paid me £12 on one day and £20, I believe, on another; it was all within three or four days that he paid me those two sums, and then on 24th, I think, he received Mr. Strapp's acceptance—he also paid me £7 or £8, the difference, in all about £40—that was a payment by the prisoner to me in respect of matters of my own that I held as regards Cooper—he gave me, as Strapp's agent, £50 in bank notes on Strapp's behalf—I afterwards gave those notes to my office boy to pay into Mr. Strapp's account—after that Mr. Strapp sent me his acceptance of £250 by post, and I gave it to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. This is the acceptance; I wrote it out—I had given an accommodation bill of £100 to Cooper to assist him in meeting bills which he had given to Strapp—in October, 1886, I gave accommodation bills to Cooper—I gave Cooper several acceptances to enable him to take up his own acceptances, which he had given me on account of goods supplied—I did not give the prisoner any acceptances; he was guaranteeing the bank, not me—I don't think I gave Cooper any so late as April, 1888—about April I considered Cooper a solvent man—I did not know that nothing had been paid in to his credit after 31st March, 1888, till Strapp's bill—Strapp is £2,000 to the bad for goods supplied to Cooper through me or to my knowledge—I knew Cooper was building houses at Clapham Common, because I visited him—the goods that partially represented Cooper's loss were sent there to put into the houses—I don't
remember sending any to Sutton or by rail—the promise made by the prisoner about bringing the leases was made to me, and I think to Strapp as well, before the bill was obtained—he did not fulfil the promise—I understood from the prisoner there was some difficulty in getting them from Mr. Saw; they were never delivered over—I have ceased to be Strapp's agent; I am not sure whether the prisoner or Cooper have paid Strapp anything since—I don't know how the account went on—the prisoner pressed for the £250 bill, because of saving Cooper and others from bankruptcy, and if Cooper went into bankruptcy there would be no chance of Strapp getting his money; in fact, he told me he was going straight to the bank to deposit it—I knew nothing of Cooper's account—the prisoner did not tell me that before paying Mr. Saw's acceptance for £250 there was £360 to his credit, and that after paying it there was still left a balance in Cooper's favour—I thought by keeping Cooper on foot a little longer his debt might be diminished—I only took the £50 in notes from the prisoner and paid it into the bank—I took £50 for Strapp and £40 for myself.
Re-examined. After receiving £50 in notes, and sending it to Strapp's account, I handed Strapp's acceptance to the prisoner.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 28th, Tuesday 29th, and Wednesday 30th,
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. ROATH Prosecuted; MR. STEPHENS Defended. The JURY being unable to agree were discharged without giving a verdict.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
For other cases tried on these days see Kent cases.
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 28th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and HUTTON appeared for
Johnson; MR. BESLEY for Scott; MESSRS PUBCELL and BIRON for Ives;
and MR. KEITH FRITH for Smith.
LEONARD LATTON . I am a lieutenant and quartermaster in the Army Service Corps, Hounslow—Johnson has been in the army for a number of years, and in September last he was warrant officer, and was called "Conductor Johnson"—Scott has also been in the army some years, and is a sergeant in the same corps—part of Johnson's duty was to assist
me, and Scott assisted both—coals would be delivered for the regiment at the barracks in the ordinary way by the contractors, the requisition being sent to me by the officer, initialed by Johnson, which he would hand to Scott, who would issue the coal to the representative of the regiment—the requisition would be receipted at the back and retained by Scott, and handed in to me as part of his account—the coal is issued in boxes containing 80 lb., and is accounted for by Scott, who hands me the money—neither he nor Johnson had any right to deal with the coal—on 27th September Scott came to the office, and said there would not be sufficient coal for that day's issue, and that about five tons would be sufficient—I said I would arrange it; but we were expecting to have a delivery by the proper contractor during that morning—I sent this order to Mr. Funge, a coal merchant of Hounslow, for five tons—in the course of the day I received a communication from him, in consequence of which I saw his two carmen at his office, and communicated the result to the colonel, by whose order I went to the Horse Guards the same day—before that I totalled up Scott's receipts and issue of coal, and asked him how much, surplus coal he had, his book showing about ten tons—I told him I thought there should have been a little more surplus, but that as I was in a hurry he had better go over my figures again—when I was in the yard afterwards I said, "Scott, where were the five tons of coal put?"—I saw a heap there, and said, "What is this heap?"—he said, "The first lot of coals that came in; the two tons"—I said, "Where were the other three placed?"—he said, "Down by the side of it"—on my return from the Horse Guards I met the prisoners near my house—Scott was in uniform, and Johnson in plain clothes—I said to Johnson, "What is the matter? do you want me?"—he replied, "You know what it is; it is a bad business about the coal"—I said, "I don't understand you; what do you mean?"—he said, "Yes, you do, you know you saw the Colonel this morning, and have been to London "—I said, "How do you know that?" and he replied, "From your manner in the morning I knew that you knew it; I wish you had spoken to me about it then, and I would have asked you to let me see Mr. Funge"—I said, "I am very sorry "—he said, "I shall never get over this disgrace; what are my wife and family to do? I hope it has not gone too far "—I said, "I am going to take the Colonel's instructions, and you will hear later on"—I then called Scott up, who was standing near, and said, "I am not going to ask you any questions, and I don't wish you to tell me anything, but I shall place you under arrest for stealing three tons of coal"—he said, "Let me see Mr. Funge, as I may be able to square it; but I cannot do so if I am in arrest"—I asked him how he thought he could do that; he said, "I might get him to take the person's receipts "—I said, "I cannot allow that," and I ordered Conductor Johnson to take him to barracks—the following day Johnson was placed under arrest, and on the 29th Scott handed in his books and accounts—I said to him, "You know your crime; is there anything you want?"—he said, "I did not steal the coal," and I said that did not agree with what he told me the day previously—Johnson would sign the receipt on delivery of the coal at the barracks—by order of the Colonel I signed the charge-sheet, charging Smith with receiving the coal.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Five tons of coal were ordered, and sent in three deliveries—two tons by the first delivery, safely received,
and two separate deliveries of a ton and a half each, I believe—Johnson's duties are more clerical than military—the coal-yard opens on the main road—Johnson is in my office, which is at the back of the stabling—between my office and the coal-yard there is a drying-ground and the married soldiers' quarters and infant school—the coal-yard is 100 to 150 yards from the office—Johnson is entitled to wear plain clothes, and would come to the office about 9 a. m.—it is Johnson's and Scott's duty to be present in the barrack-yard when the coal is shot—when I went to London I saw Colonel Clark—I reported the matter to Colonel Tucker, the commandant of the troops in the barracks—Johnson has been in the Army twenty-seven years—he wears a medal with two clasps, showing he has been under fire twice, also a star and long service medal—I had been in the barracks six weeks when this occurred, having just relieved Major Parkin—this was the first delivery of coals made by Funge at the barracks, to my knowledge—Johnson is entitled to a pension of 4s. or 4s. 6d. a day—the military authorities determined to deal with Johnson and Scott—Johnson's dinner-hour is between one and two.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Scott spoke to me about the coal some time on the morning of the 25th, and the next day he came to me, and said the contractors had not sent the coal—the strike was all over then—I gave the contractor till eleven, and wrote telling him I would wait till eleven; I waited till 11. 30—there are about 1,000 soldiers in the barracks—the Lancers drew 7 1/2 tons on the 27th—Scott kept the books—after the other coal came in there would be about 5 tons in stock after the Lancers had their 7 1/2 tons on Thursday, instead of which there was under 3 tons—Scott must be present at the delivery of coal, and accept it as through Johnson—I was to go and report the matter in London, and go back to Colonel Tucker—I took Scott into custody on my own authority before going to the Colonel, and after coming back from London—that was the 28th September—Johnson and Scott were taken by military escort to Brentford on 9th October—they were under subpœna to give evidence—as soon as they were taken into civil custody the papers, I believe, were withdrawn from the Horse Guards, and no further steps taken—when Scott had the opportunity he said he had not stolen the coal—he has been nine years in the service, and is a long service man, and of excellent character.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. When Henry Vickery came to the barracks I never said to him, "You may get three years for this," nor did anybody in my hearing.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I believe Smith was given into custody on the evening of the 1st—the first time I saw the two civilians was at the Police-court—before Smith was taken I had an interview with the cook, who was a stranger to me—I took his evidence on Friday night—I did not take the evidence for the court-martial, but to see if there was any truth in it—Funge and his clerk were present—Funge told him to tell what happened—we have coal books—I do not know that coals are sometimes shot elsewhere than in the barracks for want of room—the yard holds 260 tons, and I do not think we ever have in so much as that—the coals are delivered in sacks—I have to depend to a large extent for what is required on my superintendent's report.
Re-examined. Such a position as Johnson's is only given to men of
very good record—we never put a sergeant in charge of a station, but of stores under others—I gave my evidence at Brentford, and between the first hearing and 9th October the matter was placed in the hands of the Treasury, I believe a court-martial would have tried them for stealing—they give long terms of imprisonment, and there is no limit to general court-martial powers.
HENRY COOK . I live at Inwood, Hounslow, and am carman in the employment of Mr. Funge—on September 27th I took 1 1/2 tons of coal to the barracks; I saw Scott outside the gates; he asked me what I had there; I said, "1 1/2 tons of coal"—he said, "All right, wait a minute; I have got another shoot for you "—I turned my horse round, and he says, "Do you know where Mr. Smith lives?"—I said, "Do you mean the contractor?"—he said, "Yes; take these coals there, and there will be 1s. shooting money "—he gave me 1s., and I gave him the delivery note—Johnson was close by—I took the coals to where Smith lives—I knocked at the door, and a little girl came; she called out, "Father, here is a man brought coals "—I saw Smith at the gate, beckoning the van into the yard; I said to him, "I have brought some coals from the barracks by order of the sergeant"—he said, "All right"—and I backed the van into his yard, and unloaded the coals on the side of the fence, by his orders and assistance—I went back to Mr. Funge's yard, and saw Simmons, his clerk—he spoke to me, and I made a statement to him—on the 30th September I saw Scott outside the coal-yard gate—he said to me, "For God's sake save me, and stick by me, and I will give you £10 "—I told him I could not—on the 28th I saw Johnson on the top of the station bridge—he said, "What is this about these coals?"—I said, "I don't know "—he said, "That there little fellow, does he know about it?"—I said, "Do you mean Latton?"—he says, "Yes, don't tell anybody you seen me down here to-day "—I said, "All right"—Scott wished me to swear that I shot the coal into the coal-yard.
Cross-examined by Mr. GEOGHEGAN. I brought the delivery note with me with the coal—it was for three tons—Johnson was in uniform—I had seen him before, but not to speak to—I had been to the barracks before but not to the coal-yard—I got there about dinner-time—Johnson and Scott were outside the gate—mine is a one-horse van—there is no sentry there—I drew up opposite the gates—Scott was at one side and Johnson at the other—I have never measured the gate—I could have driven my horse and van easily through—my van is about six feet wide—I saw some coal in the barrack-yard—I went there to give Scott the ticket—I first gave my evidence on 2nd October, before the Brentford Bench—Smith and Jones were then in custody—I did not, after that, see anyone connected with the Army—I saw Detective Shaddock before the two soldiers were charged—I never mentioned a word about Johnson before the Magistrate; not until I was examined by the police-sergeant—the detective did not ask me questions—he took a written statement from me—I believe my statement to the detective was after I had given my evidence at the Police-court—I have not brought Johnson's name in that I know of—I have only seen the detective once—no one mentioned Johnson's name—I did in Funge's office; that was the only time—the detective asked me if I knew Johnson—I mentioned Johnson's name before Colonel. Tucker, before or after I had seen the detective—the detective said, "Have you seen Johnson?"—I have seen him since the
prisoners were sent for trial—I knew I was to tell everything I knew about the case, which I did at the Police-court—I have never said until to-day that I saw Johnson on the bridge on the 28th—Mr. Funge asked me if I had seen him, and I told him I had—Johnson and I were strangers.
Cross-examined by Mr. BESLEY. I saw Scott under guard on 30th September—the conversation I have given between myself and Scott was written down before Colonel Tucker, and I signed it—I had a conversation with Scott outside the coal-yard gates, he being under arrest—the same day I saw Colonel Tucker and told him—I did not tell Colonel Tucker that Scott said to me, "For God's sake save me, and say that you shot the coal in the yard. "
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I found Lieutenant Latton at the office when I arrived there—my master ordered me to go up to the barracks—I had been there before with coals—I had never gone in and seen an officer, and had a statement taken down—I began to be a little alarmed—Shaddock had not spoken to me; he has since—before I gave evidence at the Brentford Police-court Shaddock spoke to me and took down my statement—I cannot fix the day—I spoke at Brentford Police-court of Smith's daughter being present—perhaps my depositions were misunderstood—I told Shaddock about the little girl coming to the door when he took my evidence down—I cannot give you the name of anyone who saw me deliver this coal at Smith's.
Re-examined. The coal-yard is at the side of Hounslow Station—there is one other coal merchant there—the bridge goes across the railway, and you can see it from the yard—I have been with Mr. Funge a little over four years—I had not any knowledge of Johnson or Scott before this case—I gave this document to Scott (produced)—I had no receipt for what Vickery delivered—he was to follow me.
HENRY VICKERY . I live at Hanworth Road, Hounslow, and am carman to Mr. Funge—on 27th September I loaded the van with one and a half tons of coal, which I took towards Hounslow Barracks—I met Johnson against the George in Staines Road, about a quarter of a mile from the barracks—he stopped me and asked where I was going; I said, "To the barracks, with one and a half tons of coal"—he said, "I must come with you back again "—he went back with me, and when I stopped at the hospital gates he went in and fetched out Sergeant Scott—he had some conversation with him, which I did not hear—became close to me and said to Scott, "Take them up there, it will be all right"—Scott said, " Lead round towards The Light Horse, and I will follow"—I did so, and Scott stopped me when I got there—while I was getting out of my van and putting things right the gates were opened, and Scott told me to draw in, and when I drew in he showed me where to shoot the coal—Ives and a potman were also there—I shot the coal and went in front of the bar, and Ives gave me a pint of beer and I came away—I put the sacks back into the cart—when I shot the coal in the cellar there might have been a ton there already—I got the receipt from Scott—I saw Scott on the 30th—he said, "For God's sake save me, and say you shot the coal in the barrack yard, and I will give you £10"—I went back to the office.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The Staines Road is a main road that runs by the barrack gates—if I had gone straight on, instead of turning by the George IV., I should have come to the Light Horse, which
was about 200 yards off—I swear Johnson said to Scott, "Take them there; it will be all right"—my cart was then outside the gates—Johnson did not go with me to the public-house—my master and Lieutenant Latton are the only two persons I have seen connected with in this matter—my master gave me a reprimand, and told me I did wrong—he did not say I might get three years' hard labour; nor did Lieutenant Latton, or the Colonel, or Detective Shaddock, or anyone else—he told me I should have to speak the truth, or I might get myself into trouble—those are the only two I spoke to, barring Detective Shaddock—I said at the Police-court, "Mr. Latton, or some one else, said I might get three years for it"—that was, three years for speaking the truth—I can't say who told me so that I can remember, but it might have been mentioned in the Garrison-room—I have no recollection of anybody saying it; I have been questioned so many times about it; they said I should have to speak the truth—I was baffled about by Mr. Latton—I saw the detective on October 1, and said, "Johnson went into the room and brought Scott out"—he said to Sergeant Scott, "Take them there; it will be all right," or words to that effect—I am not such an aristocratic gentleman as you are; I can say that he said, "Take those coals up there; it will be all right"—only the little coal-yard gate was open; my cart was outside the gate, and the gate shut—Johnson came out at the little gate; he has never spoken to me; I only know him by sight—I did not think I was doing wrong—there was no reason to threaten me to tell the truth.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. It was a one-horse van—we began to load at 5. 30—I did not see Cook go away, but I know he had gone before me—I got to Iver Road, but I never went off the highway, only round to the barracks—I did not get into the barracks—I was standing on the path when I had the cart against me with Johnson's name on it—I went to the barracks on the 30th with Cook, and saw Captain Lumley, the garrison adjutant—Cook went in first, and after he came out I went in and told my story—I heard the words "For God's sake save me; say you shot the coals into the barrack yard, and I will give you £10 "—when Sergeant Scott said, "Are you sure it was I who took you to the public-house? "I did not say, "No, I am not quite sure; "I said, "You are the man, with different clothes on"—that was read over to me before I signed it.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I have known Ives three or four years—I had no conversation with him that day—I shot six or seven sacks of coal, and the potman assisted me with the others—I then went to the front of the house and Ives gave me some beer.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have a brother who works for Smith—he is away in a little trouble.
SIDNEY FREDERICK SIMMONDS . I am clerk to Mr. Funge—on 27th September I was in charge of the coal office and saw Cook arriving from the delivery of the second load of coal—something afterwards took place, in consequence of which I spoke to Mr. Funge—on Saturday, the 28th, I was in charge of the office in the afternoon, and saw Johnson pass up the railway bridge in front of the office, dressed in civilian clothes, and a short time afterwards I saw Sergeant Scott pass along in civilian clothes to the railway station—he came out immediately, and passed over to the Railway Inn, and straight past the office into the coal-yard, in which Cook
was at work—he spoke to Cook, and after a short time he came out of the yard, looked right and left, and passed up the railway bridge—I saw him join Conductor Johnson, who was leaning on the parapet of the bridge—they were apparently in conversation from the gestures they made—they stood there some time, and walked slowly down from the bridge to Station Lane—when I was leaving the office that afternoon I saw Johnson standing at the junction of two roads, leaning on his stick.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. My room is not in the main yard; it is near the railway station, where people come to wait.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Mr. Ives has been a customer of Mr. Funge, I think, ever since I have been there.
Re-examined. When Ives wants coal he orders it; there was no order from him that day that I know of.
WILLIAM FUNGE . I am a coal merchant at Hounslow—on the morning of September 27th I received an order for five tons of coal for the barracks—I sent off a van containing two tons, and afterwards two vans by Cook and Vickery, containing a ton and a half—the carman has a delivery note, which he leaves with the customer, and a receipt note, which he brings back signed—the receipt for three tons was handed to me, the receipt for two tons was brought to the office in my absence—in the course of the day my clerk made a communication to me, and I called Cook into the office, and spoke to him—after that I saw Lieutenant Latton, but the carman returned from the barracks first, and I spoke to him about it—on 2nd October I went to the prisoner Smith's premises, and saw about two cwt. of coal in the kitchen, similar to what I had sent to the barracks—on the same day I went to Ives' house, and saw about two and a half tons of coal in a cellar there, similar to what I had sent to the barracks—on October 3rd I went with the police to Bedfont, about two miles from the barracks, and in a field there saw a van covered with tarpaulin, and about two tons of coal loose in it—most of it was of the same character as that sent to the barracks, but some was not—" "William Smith" was the name on the van—I saw at the barracks the coal supplied by the contractor; it was similar to the coal remaining in the van.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I believe Walter Moore and Co. are the Government contractors for coal—on this occasion the contractor had till eleven o'clock to deliver, I believe—the order was "At once," and I dispatched it at once—I did not apply to Ives or Smith to pay me.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Ives pointed out where the coal was kept; Detective Shaddock was with me—I cannot swear to the coals, but they are similar to what I sent out—I have known Ives several years; he has always borne the character of a respectable, honest man.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. Persons dealing in coals buy them in the loose, and sack them themselves—sometimes we tip them loose into the vans, but it is very unusual to find tarpaulins over coals—they were out in the open—"Smith, Army Contractor," was plainly painted on the van—I did not know that Smith dealt in coal; I did not notice a board on his door with "Coal Dealer" on it when I was there—the road is not a thoroughfare.
Re-examined. Ives pointed out the coal to me—he did not say how it came there—there was no trace of coal in the fields.
van in the yard at the back; it was one of Mr. Funge's vans—I saw nobody in the yard.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I do not know that Ives is a customer of Mr. Funge—I pass the Light Horse several times a week.
WILLIAM VICKERY . I work at the Lees Nursery—my father worked for the prisoner Smith—on Saturday night, the 28th, my father and I took some coal to Bedfont—it was George Smith's cart—Mr. Smith told my father to take it—he has a meadow at Bedfont—it was loaded in the yard—we left Hounslow on Saturday about 11. 30—we had a tarpaulin in the van—it was not a wet night—the cart was drawn into a field, and left by a hay-rick—we brought the two horses back.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. We took the tarpaulin with us, in case it should rain, to put over the cart—that is usual—I had never gone there with coal before—Mr. Smith has only recently had that meadow—Bedfont is nearer to Sunbury than to Hounslow—supposing the coals were to be delivered at Sunbury early, it would be more convenient to leave them at Bedfont—my father was at work all day on the 27th for Mr. Smith—he said, "I had a man working for me all day," that was my father—the tarpaulin was tied down—we did not stop at any public-house on the road—we met one person, a policeman—there was the name on the cart, with Mr. Smith's address—there was no light, but it was writ in big letters—I do not know that Mr. Smith bought some coal a few days before.
Re-examined. I did not hear my father receive orders to deliver it early on Monday morning.
WILLIAM STEVENS (Policeman T). On Saturday, September 28th, about 11. 50, I was close to Bedfont, and saw a cart and a van, each drawn by one horse, in charge of two men and a boy, going towards Bedfont—the van was covered with a tarpaulin—I saw them turn into the new road, about 400 or 500 yards from the entrance to the field, where they were afterwards found—about an hour afterwards I saw the man go back with the horses.
HENRY TREBY (Police Inspector J). I live at Bedfont, close to this field occupied by Smith—on Sunday morning, 29th September, my attention was directed to a van and a cart in the field, which had not been there the day before—on October 1st I went and looked at it—I did not know of any charge of stealing coal—it contained about two tons of coal, and the cart about half a ton—the name of Smith was on it—after I heard of this charge I informed the police at Hounslow.
GEORGE SHADDOCK (Detective Sergeant J). I went to the barracks, and saw Colonel Tucker and Captain Lumley; I received information, and saw the two carmen, and took their statements—I took Smith on October 1st at his house; I said, "I am a police officer; I am going to take you in custody; you will be charged with receiving a ton and a half of coal on Friday last, the property of Her Majesty's Government, knowing them to have been stolen '—he said, "I had no coals on that day "—I handed him over to another officer—he said, "I know nothing about it; I had no coals "—Brackenbury was present—I went direct to Ives' place, and told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it"—the charge was read over to him; he made no answer—on October 9th I took the two soldiers at Brentford; Johnson made no answer; Scott said, "I suppose we shall be dealt with by the civil power.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Johnson was under military arrest.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I received a copy of Vickery and Cook's statements, but I had not got it to guide me in putting questions—I had not got it then, only verbally from the Colonel—I got the copy about the 4th—the Brentford Magistrates sat on the 9th, and Sergeant Scott was before them—I put no questions to Vickery—I had not got his statement when I arrested the two receivers—I knew by reading it that Vickery had said he was not sure Scott was the man—I did not tell him he had better not say that, for the coals were different, but the man was the same.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I saw the little boy Vickery the night before he gave his evidence—I did not hear his cross-examination at the Police-court—no one said to him to my knowledge that if he did not speak the truth he would be taken in custody—I was not in Court at Brentford—I have heard that a man named Vickery worked for Smith; he is now, I believe, sentenced for an assault.
JOHN BRACKENBURY (Policeman T 133). I was with Sergeant Shaddock when he arrested Smith—he said, "I know nothing about it; I had no coals in my possession that day," and he turned to me, saying, "Mr. Brackenbury, this will be something like the wood case," which I understood.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I have known Ives fifteen or sixteen years; he has always borne the character of an honest, respectable man.
MR. BESLEY submitted that as the coal was put into the vans at Funge's, and the vans never left the public highway, there was no taking of the coal out of Mr. Funge's possession, and that as it never came into Her Majesty's possession, it was not stolen from her by persons in the public service as alleged. There was no delivery to, and no real or constructive possession by, Her Majesty, and the prisoners ought to have been indicted for forging and uttering an accountable receipt for goods, or for stealing at common law, the coal of Mr. Funge.
MR. GILL contended that when the coal was once placed in the carts it was the property of the person to whom it was to be delivered; but besides that there was the actual delivery of the receipt-note to the soldiers, who exercised ownership over the coal by signing it and giving it back to the carman.
The RECORDER (having consulted MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN) considered that the indictment might be amended, and MR. GILL suggested that the Second Count should be altered, charging the coal as the property of Mr. Funge.
Mr. BESLEY and Mr. PURCELL contended that to amend the indictment would be to alter the character of the charge from statutable larceny to larceny at common law, and the Act stated, "Provided such amendment is not material to the merits of the case;" it was admitted that the First Count ought to have been for a common law larceny, and now it was proposed to amend the Second Count without altering the first.
Mr. K. FRITH contended that the amendment would be practically charging a new offence which had not been before the Grand Jury.
The RECORDER felt great difficulty in making the alteration, and considered that the case had broken down.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 28th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. PAUL TAYLOR Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended. DAVID BRYCE. I live at 94, Islip Road, Kentish Town, and am a pensioned police officer and caretaker at Marylebone Baths—on 13th September I was in Camden Road at quarter to ten p. m.—as the prisoner, who was coming in the opposite direction, passed me he snatched my watch-guard—I immediately placed my hand against my pocket and found it was gone—I turned round and followed him down the road, calling out, "Stop thief!"—he ran about 120 or 130 yards, or a little more, and was stopped by a gentleman, who rushed off the pavement into the road—the prisoner had passed a minute before between two young men, who could have caught him if they had felt so disposed; I could see that very well—I did not lose sight of the prisoner at any time—I and the gentleman took him some distance down the road before we met Constable Cartland; then we took him to the station—I charged him; he said, "It was not me, it was another man who ran round the corner"—I did not see a man running in front of him during the time he ran—I saw him searched at the station.
Cross-examined. I might not have said before the Magistrate about his passing between two men, I was not asked; I was not excited when this occurred—when the constable came up I charged the prisoner with having stolen my watch and chain; I thought at that time he had, I did not know till I got to the police-station—I then found my watch and a portion of my chain in my pocket—when I came to sign the charge-sheet I found my gold eye-glasses and the guard to them were gone—the road was well lit up with gas—there are no shops, only private houses there—it is a public road; you can see a long distance down it—there might have been ten or fifteen people about, going and coming—the prisoner came towards me—he snatched it quite suddenly; I was taken off my guard—my coat was unbuttoned—I turned round, and followed him 130 yards or more—the gentleman who stopped him is not here, nor was he at the Police-court; it was not convenient for him to attend—none of my property was found on the prisoner—I believe he threw it away into the gardens when the gentleman caught him, from the movement of his hand—I did not say that to the Magistrate, I did not think it important—I mentioned it at the station, and the inspector sent a constable back with me to see if we could find them—we searched several gardens, but found nothing—I found a portion of the eye-glass on the pavement where he snatched at the watch.
Re-examined. I could see his face when he snatched at my watch, but it was so sudden I could not recognise him by his face—I turned immediately—I might have been fifteen to twenty yards from him when I was chasing him—I never lost sight of him—the seal was hanging to the chain.
DAVID CARTLAND (Policeman Y 195). On the night of 13th September I was on duty in Camden Road, when my attention was called to the prisoner by the last witness, who had him in custody, and who gave him
in charge for stealing a watch and chain—the prisoner said, "I am entirely innocent of the charge; it was not me, it was the man that ran in front"—I took him to the station; he was charged—I searched him (MR. TAYLOR asked the witness what he had found on the prisoner. MR. LAWLESS objected that there was another indictment against the prisoner, with which the articles found on him were connected. The COMMON SERJEANT (after consulting the RECORDER) said that although no doubt the evidence was strictly admissible, yet on the whole it was best to exclude it).
Cross-examined. The prosecutor was not particularly excited; it was about ten minutes to ten—there are shops in this road within fifty yards; people were going and coming—there are gas lamps at intervals—it was near the Camden Town North London Station, rather a busy part. Re-examined, I took him into custody about a hundred yards from the North London Station—they were bringing him towards there from the direction of Camden Road. The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:" The prosecutor is entirely under a mistake. " GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in November,
1887, at this Court in the name of William Hardy. There was another
indictment against the prisoner for having housebreaking implements in his possession.—
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. SANDYS Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended. EMMA CROWE. I am unmarried, and live at 21, Martaban Road, Stoke Newington—at 3 o'clock, on the afternoon of Wednesday, 25th September, I was in Church Street, Stoke Newington—I was about three yards from the gate leading into the churchyard, when the prisoner sprang out from the gate, walked up and looked at me—I looked at him—he came up to me, and I thought he was going to speak—he gave a snatch and took my gold watch, chain, and seal, worth £12—this watch was in the watch-pocket of my dress, the chain round my neck—he turned back into the churchyard and ran—I spoke to a young woman, and ran and called out, "Stop thief!"—I saw several running, the gang—a man came out of the gate towards me, and I begged him to run after the man—he did nothing—on the Saturday, 28th, I went to Kennington Police-station where I saw a number of men—among them I recognised the prisoner—I have no doubt he is the man—I believe I also saw at Kennington, in the row with the men, the other man who came and spoke to me after my watch was gone, but I would not swear to him—he was a tall fair young man.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was among seven or eight or nine men at the station—they were not like working men—not one of them was like the prisoner in face—some had beards; some had no hair on their faces—I examined them all rather closely to make sure—none had a moustache like this man, I think—before I came to him my impression was that he was not there—I had never seen him before—he seemed to spring out, and almost immediately afterwards he snatched at my watch and ran away—the whole thing did not take quite a minute; he stood before me half a second—I only saw him for about a minute—he was dressed in shabby dark clothes at the time—I think he was dressed in
the same way when I picked him out—I did not look at his face much; I looked at his face and build.
Re-examined. When I came to him at the Police-station I recognised him at once.
MARGARET PALMER . I am unmarried, and live at 86, Lordship Park—on the afternoon of 25th September I was coming through the passage by Stoke Newington Church—as I came to the Church Street end of the passage I saw four men sitting just outside the gate in Church Street, two on each side—the prisoner was one of the men on the right hand—there is no gate—there is an arch with an upright bar in the middle, from the ground to the top—all the men made a move as though they were going to stop me, and they hesitated, and sat down again—then a fair man said to the prisoner, "Now," and gave him a nudge with the elbow—the prisoner looked me up and down quickly and said, "There is no go there "I went to a shop in Church Street, and did my business there—when I came back I went towards the passage to come back the same way—the men had all gone except the prisoner and the fair man—I saw Miss Crowe coming along on the same side as the prisoner and the fair man—as I was crossing over the road towards the gateway, the prisoner got up from where he was sitting, pulled his hat well over his forehead, put his hands into his pockets, walked leisurely towards the end of the kerbstone, looked hastily up and down Church Street (I was going through the gate then), and walked back again to the fair man, who said, "Go on quick"—I stood to see what they were going to do—while I was hesitating, afraid to go through, the prisoner crossed by the gateway and went up to Miss Crowe—as his back was towards me I did not see what he did—he was only apparently speaking to her—he came back, but before he could get through the gate Miss Crowe had called "Stop thief!"—I was standing just inside the churchyard—the prisoner ran by me, I ran after him through the churchyard; the fair man came after me with his fists up in this way, and got me up in a corner in a threatening attitude—the prisoner got through into the mews at the other end—on the Saturday I went to the Police-court, where I picked out the prisoner from a number of other men; he is the man—he was not dressed exactly as he is now—my watch-chain was not showing, it was in my jacket.
Cross-examined. The fair man did not hold me; he came to me in a threatening attitude, and at that moment six gentlemenly men came at the other end and surrounded me, and all laughed—they did not hurt me; it was no use my calling out—I had never seen the prisoner before the 25th; I identified him on the following Saturday, the 28th—Miss Crowe was not in the room at the same time—I went in first; there looked nine or ten men; some looked like poor and some were gentlemenly men—I did not take particular notice of their clothes; I looked at their faces—on the following Monday I saw the prisoner at the Police-court—he was dressed on the 25th precisely as he is now; he had a longish overcoat on, with pockets—I noticed the other men in the station; I did not notice if they had overcoats on—I went by their faces; I cannot remember if any of the men had similar faces—no other man was clean shaved with a moustache, like the prisoner—he is the man—I looked at all the men—they were men of every description—I did not say at once he was the man—I looked round the room before I identified the prisoner
—I had seen him three times that afternoon—as I went round the men they nearly all made faces; turning up their noses and staring—I was there five minutes.
ANNIE WRIGHT . I live at 8, Strower Terrace, Seven Sisters Road, Stamford Hill, where I manage Annie Welteck's oil and colour shop—on the 25th September, about 11 a. m., the prisoner came in and purchased a tablet of Pears' soap—I noticed a kind of stutter or impediment in his speech—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined. The 25th was Wednesday—we have a great many customers in a week who make small purchases. Re-examined. I have a special reason for remembering that day.
HENRY SMALL (Detective L). I took the prisoner into custody on this charge—Gray told him in my presence that he would take him on suspicion of having stolen this watch and chain—he said nothing in answer—he was taken to Kennington Road Station first—when being conveyed from there to Stoke Newington, he said in the cab to me, "I shall prove I was in Manchester at the time"—the offence was committed on the 25th, and on the 26th the description of the prisoner was circulated—when I took him to the cells he wished me to write a telegram to Mrs. Broadbent, 64, Brook Street, Chorlton-on-Medlock, Manchester—I did so, but he said he would not send it; he would write after he was remanded—I had written it at his dictation—I tore it up at his desire—it informed her that he was in custody in London, and wished her to come and prove that he only left Manchester at ten minutes past ten on the Wednesday morning that the offence was committed.
Cross-examined. Two or three other officers and another prisoner were in the cell passage—those officers are not here—it was as he was being taken to the cells—I did not think it my duty to keep the telegraph form—I was with the prisoner in a cab for an hour, and he was talking all the time on one subject and another—he was placed among men on whom we had made a raid, known to be thieves—they were in custody.
By the JURY. The previous witnesses gave information on the 25th, the day of the offence, and the description came out in our information on 26th—he was arrested on the afternoon of the 27th—the prisoner has a slight stuttering—I have had a conversation with Annie Wright—she made her statement about having seen the prisoner on the day of the robbery long before the case came into this Court.
Witnesses for the Defence. MARTHA BROADBENT. I live at 9, Oldham Road, Manchester, and am the wife of Thomas Broadbent, who keeps the Commercial Hotel there—the prisoner is my son-in-law—on 25th September he was in Manchester—I saw him off to London on that day by the ten minutes past ten train at the Central Station—I got his ticket, and paid 15s. 5 1/2 d. for it—I am quite sure it was that day I saw him off.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not living with me—he and my daughter managed my shop in Brook Street, and lived there—I had seen him every day up to this time—I live at the Commercial Hotel—we have eight bedrooms and eleven beds there—we have a fair number of customers—my daughter received a letter from him—the prisoner came up to his brother, but he did not find him; he had moved—I don't know where the prisoner went when he came to London—I remember he left on 25th, because the 25th is generally rentday
—I gave him 10s. to come away with, and said if he did not find his brother I would send him more, but I did not want to be short on rentday—I remember very well that rent-day was Wednesday, 25th—I don't know if quarter-day is different in Manchester and London—I saw the prisoner on the Sunday and Monday before the Wednesday, and on the Tuesday I went to the shop he manages, and helped to serve the dinners—when we are a hand short I always do that, except on Sundays—I saw him on Tuesday, he was not working, because he and his wife were out, I think—on the Monday he was walking about, getting a drink here and there, not working—he did not work after they had a quarrel on Sunday night—he went away because of the bother—I thought it as well he should go away, and on Wednesday morning, about eight o'clock, I went upstairs and asked him what he was going to do, whether he would begin to work, and when his wife came down she would not five him any money to go with, and I said I would come to the station and pay his fare—we went up the street to the station from our house; we were only just in time to get the ticket—the prisoner stammers a little when he speaks—he speaks a bit short-tongued, we call it, when he has had a drop of drink.
CHARLES EAST . I live at 36, Brook Street, Chorlton-on-Medlock, Manchester, and am a hairdresser—on 25th September I shaved the prisoner at Manchester at a quarter to nine—after I shaved him I had about two minutes' conversation with him—he said he had had a bit of a bother with his wife and was going to London for a fortnight or three weeks till it blew over—I said, "It would do you more good if you put the fare (15s. 5 1/2 d.) on Cataract for the Great Eastern Handicap"—I backed it, it won, and I was paid.
Cross-examined. I shave the prisoner regularly on Wednesdays and Sundays—he might come in on Tuesday sometimes, if he was going down the town; but as a rule it was Wednesday and Sunday—I do a good bit of business; it keeps me—he was the first customer I had on the Wednesday morning—I cannot say who my first customer on Tuesday was—on Monday my first customer was Sutcliff, a butcher—I cannot say who my first customer was on Wednesday, a week ago—I remember 25th, because it was the morning of the Great Eastern Handicap—I only had about five in that morning; it was a quiet morning—we generally talk of racing matters in our shop—I talked about this race two or three days before the Wednesday, but not to the prisoner—when I have a good tip I generally give it to my customers—I have known the prisoner well since the exhibition was opened—I know his mother—about eight days after the Wednesday, I should think, the prisoner's wife showed me a letter from the prisoner, and said, "What do you think about my husband in trouble?" and I said, "How can he have done it when I shaved him at quarter to nine on Wednesday, and he says this was done at four o'clock?"—when he left my shop after I shaved him he went down Brook Street, in the direction of the Central Station, at twenty minutes to ten—he went from my shop to his shop to get dressed to go to the station—his shop is half a minute's walk from mine—the Commercial Hotel is twenty minutes' walk off, I should think, and is in a different direction to the station—my shop is a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes' walk from the station—it would take an old lady twenty minutes to half an hour—I am prepared to swear it was not on Tuesday I saw the prisoner; it was the 25th September—I was
told nothing—they did not tell me it was important; I should say it was the 25th.
Re-examined. When the prisoner's wife showed me his letter I said at once, "How can this accusation be true, because I was shaving him on this morning?"
ROBERT BARKER . I am a butcher, of 42, Cavendish Street, Manchester—I saw the prisoner on Tuesday, 24th September, in my shop a little before five—he wanted to borrow 5s. of me, and I could not lend it to him.
GUILTY .**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
860. JOHN REID (28), JAMES MILLARD (19), and WALTER TAYLOR (22) , Stealing a watch-chain and a pair of eye-glasses from the person of Lucy Ann Turner. Second Count, against Taylor, for receiving the same.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted.
LUCY ANN TURNER . I am a widow of 174, Amhurst Road, Hackney—I was going home on the 11th September, about 5. 30, when Millard came along and snatched at and took my chain and eye-glasses—I ran away and screamed, and he ran away—Reid was behind him, and also ran away.
Cross-examined by Reid. I saw you when you ran after Millard—you asked me what I had to say against you, and I said you followed in his steps, and you said, "Oh, you wicked woman, you!"—I did not hear you say I had accused an innocent man—you ran as fast as any of them—there is no mistake about it.
Cross-examined by Millard. There is no mistake about you; I shall never forget you—I might be mistaken in the passage where you were, but I am not in the person—I followed you, and never lost sight of you.
By the COURT. I think he was stopped by a milkman—when I came up they were both together.
By the JURY. I did not have to run twice the length of this Court.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I do not recognise you.
ALICE MANN . I live at 9, Coleman Street, Hackney Road—I saw Millard leave the lady and run across the road—she called "Stop thief!" and I ran after him, calling "Stop thief!"—I did not see what he did to Mrs. Turner—I saw him run up the side of the Approach going to the station, and some man shut the gate—Reid was in front when I saw them—I saw them stopped and taken.
Cross-examined by Reid. I saw you up the passage—you were not standing at the gate—you came up the Dalston Lane end—you were nearly at the top when Millard joined you, and the gate was shut—you were running together, and were both stopped before I got to the gate—I don't think there were a dozen people there—the prosecutrix came up behind me and the other witnesses.
Cross-examined by Millard. You did not stop yourself—I did not hear a gentleman say that he saw a man run through the passage, but the lady would not listen to him, and that he could not stop because he had to catch a train.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I did not see you there—I know nothing about you.
Cross-examined by Millard. I thought you were one of the unemployed, and I was watching you—I saw your face.
EDWARD DAVIS MORLEY . I am a saddler, of 2, Bridge Street, Homerton—I saw Millard snatch the prosecutrix's guard; he was standing near the kerb—I heard her cry out, "Stop thief!" and I saw Millard cross the road—I saw Taylor standing near the fence on the opposite side near the railway arch about twenty yards across the road—Millard went up the gateway first towards Dalston Lane, and Reid followed up at the back of him.
Cross-examined by Reid. I followed Millard up the gateway, and said to him, "You stop here, I won't give that man an inch," and he complained to me and said, "Have I got it on me?" and I said, "I don't know"—I went to fetch a constable—you were two yards from Millard and about six yards from the gate—you walked up and down at the same distance you are now.
Cross-examined by Millard. I cannot say you took the guard; I saw you do a snatch—I was in the yard doing something, but I was outside when I saw you—I did not say I was inside doing business—I did not see Taylor run.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I did not see you at the gate.
EDWARD DAVID DAVIS . I keep a dairy at 13, Junction Place, Amhurst Road—I saw Millard running away from the prosecutrix—I did not see anyone else running away—I heard a squealing—I went round the corner at the top end, and saw Taylor running up Dalston Lane, a short cut to the railway—Taylor was before Millard—I did not see him stopped—Taylor got away.
Cross-examined by Millard. You ran on one side of Amhurst Road, from the lady to the Approach, and when you came to the Approach you were out of my sight.
Cross-examined by Taylor. I saw you running up Dalston Lane, about half a minute after the robbery.
JAMES HARRISON . I am a wheelwright, of 211, Dalston Lane—I heard the lady call out, "Stop thief"—I jumped over the fence, and laid hold of Reid and Millard, who were running as hard as they could go.
Cross-examined by Reid. I was at the railway arch gate—there are four arches in the roadway, and a passage—there is a gate at each side of the passage—I was walking on what they call the Arches.
WILLIAM ROBERTSON . I am a jeweller, of 100, Aldersgate Street—on the 12th September last, between 11 and 12 a. m., Taylor brought me in this chain to sell (produced)—I asked him how he came by it—he said it belonged to his father, and his father was out of work, and wanted the money—I did not understand whether it was his father or himself out of work—I gave him £2 1s. 6d. for it, the value of old gold—I gave him a ticket for it—it was sold out and out, and that is its value.
and the prisoners were remanded—he did not give me their names—I have the statement in writing, which I took down, signed.
Cross-examined by Taylor. At the Dalston Police-court Mr. Bros said he would help you all he could to get witnesses here, and I have helped you—there was a witness called at the Police-court—I have not been able to see her since.
Reid's Defence. I say I am innocent of the charge, and know nothing at all about it.
Millard's Defence. I was returning home, and going up Amhurst Road, when I heard some one running, and I ran through the court after this man, and got a glimpse of him. I ran through the passage thinking to catch him at the top; the gate was closed, and the lady came running up, and hesitated a few minutes, and said, "Yes, that is the man. "I told her I was trying to assist her in running after the man. I am as innocent of the charge as a child unborn. I have not been in trouble before.
Taylor's Defence. On the 11th September, when this robbery was committed, I was nowhere near the Amhurst Road. My wife was taken very ill on that day, and I called a witness in Court, who came up and proved it. She was supposed to appear up here, and there was another here outside till yesterday. As to selling the chain to that man I never see it till he brought it into Court.
Reid then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony at this Court in February, 1889, in the name of William Brown. There were two other indictments against Reid for robbery with violence.
REID and TAYLOR— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. MILLARD— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 29th, 1889.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
PHINEAS ABRAHAMS . I am a partner in the firm of Lewin, Vavacour and Co., cabinetmakers, Tottenham Court Road—on 6th January I was at Mr. Jacobson's in Torrington Square—the prisoner was there—he was a perfect stranger to me—I went there by chance—Mr. Jacobson introduced him to him as a young man of good position, who he had known many years; that he had taken a public-house, and had paid £680 into the hands of Mr. Fowler, of Chancery Lane; that he was going into the house on the following Tuesday; that he had also purchased a house last week, and it had made him rather short, and he wanted to borrow some money for little necessaries on going into it, as he did not want to apply to his friends; and he said, "You have got a little money, I think?"—I said, "I don't care much about this sort of thing "—I made an appointment with the prisoner for next morning, when he came with Mr. Jacobson—I questioned him about his position—he told me he was about to be married—it was mentioned that he wanted about £100—he proposed that
he should have £80, and give me bills for £100—he repeated what he had said the night before—I had known Mr. Jacobson many years; the prisoner said, "I am going to be married, and it is not likely I should go back in the next six months"—I gave him a cheque for £80, and he gave me three bills of exchange for £33 6s. 8d., payable at one, two, and three months—the first was payable that day month, the 18th June; this is it—I had no security—when it became due it was dishonoured—the cheque was cashed—he said he was shifting his account to the Notting Hill Bank for convenience, as he was going to take a house in Portobello Road.
Cross-examined. Mr. Jacobson has only introduced me to one person before to lend money—I am a furniture broker; I do a little money lending occasionally—Mr. Jacobson did not come to me and say he had a young man who wanted to borrow money; it was accidental—he said that he had known the young man many years, and his family, and he was a most respectable young man—I said at the Police-court that Mr. Jacobson said everything, and the prisoner was standing by—he joined in general conversation—I also said I believed what Mr. Jacobson told me—I did not go into the percentage—he was to purchase furniture afterwards on the hire system—my firm got the money, but the purchase was never completed—I did not tell the Magistrate that I saw the prisoner give Mr. Jacobson £10 when I advanced the money; I did not know it then, but it oozed out—I did not say that Mr. Jacobson gave him a cheque for £69 and a sovereign.
Re-examined. He mentioned Mrs. Jewell, and said he was engaged to her daughter, and she was security to the brewers or distillers for £700.
By MR. LAWLESS. I told the Magistrate that he said Mrs. Jewell was security for £700, not that she was going to become so—I had a solicitor before the Magistrate; I have not now, because I did not want to spend any more money—he gave me the address of the broker, Mr. Fowler, 55, Chancery Lane.
SIDNEY SOLOMON JACOBSON . I am a commercial traveller, of 69, Torrington Square—I have known Mr. Abrahams many years; I have known the prisoner about eighteen months—he came to me about May 14th by appointment to get some furniture on the hire system, as he was about taking the Oxford Arms in a few days, and was about to be married—he said he had paid the broker, Mr. Fowler, £680 for the goodwill and the valuation, and he was short of money to buy sundries, and wanted to get into his house properly equipped, and could I introduce him to anybody to get the money—I said, "If what you say is bond fide I will introduce you to a friend of mine, Mr. Abrahams, who will very likely let you have the money," and I did so the same day; he stated the facts and I repeated them—he mentioned Mr. Fowler, and said that his intended mother-in-law had stood security to the distillers for £700—Mr. Abrahams said he would think over the matter—we met again next morning—the prisoner said he wanted £80 as he had paid all his money into Mr. Fowler's hands for the goodwill—Mr. Abrahams not being in the habit of lending money said, "What can you afford to pay for this?"—he said, "Make it £100, and I will give you £20; that will not affect me very much in three months," and it was agreed that he should give three bills at one, two, and three months—he gave Mr. Abrahams £10, £5 for the introduction and £5 for me—when the first
bill was dishonoured he came to me in a hurry on Friday morning and said, "If you will come with me to my solicitor in Gray's Inn, I have to receive some money, and will give you the money for the bill"—I said, "What do you mean about this loan, was £50 paid as a deposit, and an I O U? you told me you had paid for the goodwill "—during the conversation young Mr. Robertson said, "What is the meaning of this?" and he said he had no money in hand, and Mr. Rose could not pay it—I asked him what it meant; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I am not certain whether I said a word before the Magistrate about the conversation with the solicitor—I said that I was surprised to find that the solicitor said he had paid £50 when the prisoner said he had paid £80—I may have introduced a person to Mr. Abrahams once before to lend money—Mr. Abrahams drew a cheque for £80, and I drew one for £69 and a sovereign, deducting £10 according to the prisoner's wish—the £10 was for my introduction—when I introduce people to Mr. Abrahams I do not get a commission upon it—what the prisoner got was £70—I said before the Magistrate something to the effect that his intended mother-in-law was going to become security for £750—I do not know that I have changed that to-day—no solicitor has told me that it would not be a false pretence if she was only going to become security; I have not seen any solicitor—I believe the words were that she had become security; I consider those words as just the same—I do not know that one is a legal false pretence and the other not—as a fact, he was introduced to Mr. Jewell's daughter; that was how I became acquainted with him—I told Mr. Abrahams that I had known his family" for some time"—I was first introduced to him by Mrs. Jewell, who is a customer of mine.
JAMES FOWLER . I am a public-house broker, of 55 and 56, Chancery Lane—about April 28th the prisoner called on me with reference to the purchase of a public-house—he said he was Charles Rose, manager of a public-house—he was a stranger to me—I submitted the names of several, amongst them the Oxford Arms, Portobello Road, value £5,000; the ready money to be paid was between £500 and £600, before he could enter; the rest would remain on mortgage—he went to see it, and came back, and said he was willing to take it; he signed, a contract, and gave me an I O U for £50—£500 would be payable on the day he took possession—he came nearly every day for a week or ten days—I met him at Notting Hill, and he gave me a cheque for £50 on the Notting Hill branch of the London and Southwestern Bank, which was dishonoured the first time, and honoured the second—there was about twenty-two days between—this cheque for £5 10s., dated 24th May, is an open one, which he obtained from me for a crossed cheque of his own, which was dishonoured—the deposit was forfeited because he could not find the money, and it was paid into Court, and was paid to the purchaser—there is no truth in the statement that he had paid me £680 in hard cash—Mrs. Jewell did not become security—all the cash I had was £50.
Cross-examined. It was not the vendor who refused to complete—the prisoner brought an action to recover the £50, and I paid it into Court—his solicitor compromised the matter, and the prisoner was not to be found he did not recover the whole amount; the action never was fought—it is a common thing for a public-house to be bought, and all the money,
within a few hundreds, to be in the hands of the distillers or brewers.
MARTHA JEWELL . I keep the Windmill Tavern, Acton—in May last year the prisoner was engaged to be married to my daughter—he told me that he wished to become the proprietor of the Oxford Arms—I did not undertake to become security for him for £700, nor did I lead him to think so—he never asked me to render him any assistance, or to make him any advance.
JOHN WILLIAM JARVIS . I am a clerk in the Notting Hill branch of the London and South-Western Bank—on 16th May the prisoner opened an account there by a cheque for £69; on the 20th he drew out £50—the account was closed on 30th September—he had paid in one or two items to his credit, and there were debits on the other side—there was a small balance, which we took for our charges.
WILLIAM JAMES . (Police Sergeant D). On 22nd December I went to the prisoner's father's house in Kenmure Road, Hackney; I did not find the prisoner there, he had escaped, and got across back walls and entered a house two houses from his own, through the window, where I arrested him in the dining-room—I read the warrant to him; it was for obtaining money by false pretences—in going to the station he said, "That £80 should have been £100, they wanted to charge me £20 interest for three months"—I received the warrant on 19th August, but had not been able to find him—I had not gone to his father's house, but I had inquiries made there—the father had removed from Stoke Newington to Hackney.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. SANDYS Defended.
EDWIN CRABB . I keep the Somerset Arms, 20, New Road, Commercial Road East, in the neighbourhood of the Docks—on 22nd August, between one and two p. m., I had been to the London Docks to see someone, and had indulged a little more than was desirable—going towards my house I was met by about thirty men; the prisoner was one of them—I had never seen any of them before—they hustled me, and demanded beer; being afraid of them, I was shoved into a public-house, and paid for about a dozen pots of beer, and the prisoner palled a dirty piece of brown paper out of his pocket, on which was some writing, which he requested me to copy—I did so; this is it: "To all the men working in holds and quays: As men we beg you to clear out at once, or we must inform you that the consequences will be extremely serious"—some of them were using threatening language—the prisoner wanted to know where he could get it printed—he left the house with it, and I left some time after—some of the men followed me part of the way home, and I met a friend who gave some of them money—on the same afternoon Mrs. Lewis, a printer, called on me, and next day I paid her 4s. for 500 copies.
Cross-examined. That was about the middle of the strike.
Street, Commercial Road East—on 22nd August the prisoner called with three other men and handed me this piece of paper, with pencil-writing on it—he said he wanted his name at the bottom, and I wrote this, "Alfred Cremer"—I spelt it to him, and he said it was quite right—he asked for 1,000 to be printed, and wanted them the same night to circulate them—I said he could not have them before nine next morning—he said that Mr. Crabb, who we knew, had sent him, and would pay for them when they were done—I printed 500, and the prisoner came next morning and had about 300—I produce two of them.
Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner—I saw the procession; the leader was Mr. John Burns, I heard.
MARY ANN LEWIS . I am a widow, and a printer, of Miller Street, Commercial Road East—on 22nd October the prisoner called about printing these bills, and in consequence of what he said I went and saw Mr. Crabb, and in consequence of what he said I printed a number of them, and received 4s. from Mr. Crabb.
BENJAMIN SOLOMONS . I am Mr. Crabb's potman—on 23rd August, about 10. 30 a. m. the prisoner and two other men came and asked to see the governor—he had some bills like these, and stuck two up in the window, looking out into the street—they wanted a drink of beer; I gave them a pot, which I paid for, as I was there by myself—I did so because they said, "If Mr. Crabb was in he would give us a drink of beer"—when Mr. Crabb came home he washed the bills off.
HENRY SLADE . I am a dock labourer—on 23rd August during the strike I was helping to unload a barge at D warehouse, and another dock labourer spoke to me after lunch, about 12. 30, and in consequence of what he said I came up out of the barge, left off work, and went away—I was afraid to go on working, but I was willing to go on if I had not been told that—next morning I went back to the docks; I saw a large number of people congregated in front of the dock-house, and did not go in; I was afraid from what I had heard—about sixty men went away at the same time as I did—I have gone in fear ever since—I went of my own free will to work for the price the dock company was paying, and I was satisfied with it.
Cross-examined. Miles and Ward are two of the men who spoke to me in the barge—they are not here.
Re-examined. They shouted out, "You had better leave off work at once, and come out of there, or it will be very serious. "
JOSEPH WILLIAM COATES . I am a dock labourer—I was at work in the docks during the strike on 23rd August—after luncheon-time somebody spoke to mo about some bills—after that I was going with a number of other labourers to the warehouse-keeper to tell him something, and met Deputy-warehouse keeper Russell—we were then leaving work because we saw this bill outside, and we told Russell so, and he went out—about fifty men went out with me—when I got outside I saw a great bill like this posted on the dock gates—I stayed out from 23rd August till September 16th—I was afraid to go to work during that time in consequence of what I had heard and what I had seen as regards this bill.
Cross-examined. I knew who the leaders of the strike were, and that a great many thousand men were out—I saw this bill posted up, but did not know who Cremer was—up to the 23rd I was what was termed a blackleg, and I heard that among the men on strike there was a great
objection to blacklegs—I was afraid to go back to work because I was afraid of being called a blackleg by my fellow workmen—if there had been no strike at all, and no one calling me a blackleg, I should not have come out in consequence of this bill.
Re-examined. The blacklegs were threatened with violence—it was said, "We must inform you the consequences will be serious," and I thought I should be ill-treated and assaulted, though not by Alfred Cremer.
WALTER RUSH . I am a dock labourer—on 23rd August I was at work in the docks during the strike, in the same gang with Coates—in consequence of what was said to me about luncheon-time I was afraid to go on, and left off work with a number of other men, and stayed out till September 16th—I was not exactly a blackleg—I stayed out like a man.
WALTER HILL (Dock Police Sergeant). On 23rd August, as I went home, I saw this bill, or a similar one, pasted on a blank wall at the top of New Gravel Lane, which is the road where all the dock labourers pass to the East India Docks and Shadwell Basin.
ALFRED RUSSELL . I am warehouse-keeper at Dock warehouses D to H—on 23rd August, about 12. 30, I met a gang of about thirty men coming from the H warehouse; Coates and others were among them—I asked where they were coming from; they said they were leaving work in consequence of the bill that had been posted up outside the premises—I got them to go back towards their work, and was going across the bridge to see whether the bill had been posted outside, and met another gang of men coming from the direction of the D warehouse—I spoke to them, and they told me the same tale—they went in the direction of the warehouse—there were from forty-four to fifty men altogether—they had come on in the morning willingly of their own accord—the greater bulk did not come back till September 16th.
THOMAS OWEN . I am a wharfinger in the employ of the Joint Dock Committee—on 23rd August a number of men came to me and told me they were leaving in consequence of these bills—they left, and the bulk did not return till September 16th.
JOHN LYNCH . I am employed at Hayes' Wharf—the prisoner gave me a bill similar to this, after which, when I was coming from the docks on September 26th, I was stopped by a number of people as I was going up the Commercial Road—I had a cart and a pair of horses—they pulled me off, and threatened to cut the harness if I did not turn out, if they saw me again down the road—I did not turn out for nearly a fortnight, I was afraid to come out.
Cross-examined. I was not out on strike at the time, but I went out after I received the bill—I am one of those who went out on principle after that.
JOHN KEGAN (Thames Police Inspector). On 12th September I saw the prisoner in a procession of strike men, marching through Eastcheap—I said, "I am going to take you in custody on a warrant we hold for intimidation"—he said, "Allow me to go in the procession"—I said, "No; you will have to come with me to Wapping Station"—he said, "You have made a mistake "—I said, "I have not"—he said, "I can't read or write, and I spell my name with a 'K' "—I had not mentioned anything about his name—he was taken to Wapping Station,
where the warrant was read—I have known him some ten years; he is not a dock labourer; he is known as a sea lawyer.
CHARLES RICHARDS (Detective Sergeant). I was acting under Kegan—I held the warrant, and formally arrested the prisoner on September 12th—I saw him at Wapping Station—he was asked if his name was Cremer—he said, "No; Kramer," spelling it—Crabb and Spring identified him—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I don't know what you are reading"—I found on him these bits of paper, with his name spelt in different ways; 42, Milton Street West, and this badge, which is worn by strike men—he was formally charged, and said, "I know nothing about it. "
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY, in consequence of the excitement— Nine Days' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. GRAIN AND KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
JOSEPH MEAD . I am a labourer in the London Docks—on 31st August I was working in No. 6 warehouse, I left off work about 4. 30, and saw a lot of men near the Mint coming towards me—I went through an alley near the Black Horse public-house—I had heard that men on work were called blacklegs, and heard one of the men say, "Here comes one dressed like a b——y top "—I recognise Newman as one of the men—they made a rush at me, and I felt a blow on the side of my head, and was knocked down—I had more than one blow—they rushed at me all in a cluster, and I was kicked on my side—I saw both the prisoners—some gentleman who I did not know picked me up—the prisoners ran away round the corner—I was taken to Tottenham Training Hospital next morning, as I was very bad, and vomiting blood—I was afterwards taken to the London Hospital as an out-patient, and am under the doctor now—I can do a little writing, but cannot do any hard labour—I pointed out Newman to a policeman on 11th September.
Cross-examined. There were about half-a-dozen in the crowd—when I heard their language I was frightened—they were stronger men than me—I was hit several times—I did not see several men running away; all I felt was the kick—I became partly insensible—I noticed nothing between the blows and the time the gentleman came up—I had never seen either of the prisoners before.
Re-examined. I have no doubt about the two prisoners.
WILLIAM BEST . On 31st August I was working in the docks, and between four and five o'clock I was near a coffee-tavern, and saw some men running away—I went towards them, and recognise Newman as one; I cannot recognise Hobbs—I saw Mead on the ground—he was a stranger to me—I went up to him; he seemed to have been assaulted badly; he was suffering pain—I assisted him to get home to Tottenham—on 11th September I picked out Newman from a number of other men—I have no doubt of him whatever.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that there were nine or twelve men—when I first saw them they were engaged in a scuffle—I never saw Newman before.
in Trinity Square, Tower Hill, and saw fifteen or twenty persons there, who were on strike, and Newman among them.
SAMUEL TILBROOK (Police Inspector F). On 11th September, about 10. 30 a. m., I was at the principal entrance of the London Docks; a number of people were collected, and Mead pointed out Newman in the crowd, and made a complaint against him, and gave me Best's name as a witness—I found out Best later in the day, who also pointed out Newman, and told me what he had seen—I afterwards took Newman, and told him it was for violently assaulting Mead on the previous Saturday night—he said, "Me, sir! I know nothing about it, ask the man?" pointing to Mead—he was taken to Leman Street Station, and the charge read over to him—he said he knew nothing about it, and asked me to get some witnesses for him, giving me their names and addresses, which I took down and gave to Collins to make inquiries about them.
Cross-examined. One witness was examined at the Police-court, and I was told that several were in attendance—he denied this from the first.——COLLINS (Policeman) (Cross-examined). Newman gave the names of several people, and said that he was on Brewer's Quay at the time.
FREDERICK WILLIAM BLACKWELL . I am in practice at 100, Commercial Road East—on 12th September I examined Joseph Mead at my place—I found him suffering from pleurisy—there was a swelling and tenderness over the region of his stomach and liver—he is still debilitated and unfit to perform the hard labour of a dock labourer—he told me he had been spitting up dark coloured blood—that is consistent with a severe kick—there was also a swelling below his ribs, due to effused blood, probably due to a kick.
Witnesses for Newman. JOSEPH CARTER. I am a labourer—on Saturday, 31st August, I saw Newman on Tower Hill—I have known him four years—I was with him from 11 a. m. to 7 p. m. continually—he was not out of my sight—Tower Hill is five or ten minutes' walk from the entrance to the London Docks—just half a mile.
Cross-examined. Where I saw Newman was five minutes' walk from the Black Horse, which is against the London Docks—the London Docks does not open from Tower Hill—I was by the Tiger Tavern between four and five—that is about a quarter of a mile from the Black Horse.
Re-examined. I never lost sight of him—he could not have gone away and committed an assault without my knowing it.
WILLIAM CARTER . I am no relation to the last witness—I am a dock labourer at Brewer's Quay—on 31st August I was on Tower Hill in the morning, and Newman spoke to me about his boots—I was in his company from ten minutes to eleven till seven at night—he did not go away to commit an assault during that time—he was on strike, and so was I.
By the COURT. NO one was assaulted, as far as I know—no one was knocked down and kicked—I saw nothing of the kind.
JOHN KEMP . I am manager of the Tiger public-house—on 31st of August Newman was in and out of the house all day long, from eleven to seven o'clock, waiting to receive the relief tickets—he was in there between four and five, waiting about with two or three men; I mean that he remained in the bar from four to five, and never left.
Cross-examined. We got up a subscription for the men's wives, and he had part of the subscription.
By the COURT. I know he is charged with an assault between four and five, and I have come to prove he was in the house—the subscription was going on from the Monday to the Saturday, and it was distributed between four and five o'clock on this Saturday by a man named Peters, I believe.
JOSEPH MARTIN . I am a water-side labourer—on August 31st I saw Newman at the Tower Dock from 8 a. m. till 7 p. m.—I was with him at 4. 15—I was in the Tiger several times during the day—I can swear that he was at the Tower Dock between the hours of four and five—I was called at the Police-court.
NEWMAN— GUILTY.— Four Months' Hard Labour. HOBBS— NOT GUILTY .
MR. K. FRITH Prosecuted, and MR. SANDYS Defended. The particulars of this case are unfit for publication.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, October 29th, 1889.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
HENRY EDWARD GIRLING . I am one of the firm of Metcalf and Girling, wine merchants, in the City Road—a man named Allen owes me an account of £14 14s. 6d.—I don't know the prisoner—I have many customers I don't know; I know their names—on 12th August Eveley, who was convicted last session of uttering this cheque (see page 1,072), came, representing he was sent by a customer, and bringing this copy of the account which Allen owed, and this cheque to bearer for £24 15s. on the Union Bank, Regent Street, by Bruce Wright to Frank Robert Allen, dated August 9th, 1889—I know no person named Bruce Wright—I gave him a receipt for the account, £14 14s. 6d., and my own cheque for £10 0s. 6d., payable to order, for the balance—he went away—I had not seen the prisoner before—my cheque has not been cashed—I presented the cheque for £24 15s. at my bank, and it was returned shortly afterwards marked "No account."
Cross-examined. My customer at Aylesbury is Allen, I believe—I have not had letters from him, and never saw his writing—I know nothing about the writing on this cheque.
FREDERICK EVELEY (in custody). I am undergoing a sentence of nine months for uttering this cheque—on 12th August the prisoner wrote out in my presence this account, which he owed Mr. Girling, and gave it to
me—he also gave me this cheque for £24 15s.—he told me to pay it to Mr. Girling, wine merchant, City Road—he told me the cheque came from the proprietor of the house he had sold his business to, and if Mr. Girling asked me I was to tell him it was from the present proprietor—I took them to Mr. Girling, who gave me this receipt for £14 14s. 6d., and this cheque on his bankers for the balance of £10 0s. 6d.—I went out and gave the receipt and cheque to Allen, who was in the City Road with two friends near Mr. Girling's—I took the cheque to Mr. Biscoe's public-house in the City Road—I got a sovereign for it, and the balance was to be given in the morning—I left the cheque there—I gave the sovereign to Allen, who was 200 or 300 yards from the public-house with two friends.
Cross-examined. I was perfectly innocent in the matter—I did not know this was a fraudulent cheque—when I was tried here last Session I set up the defence that I knew nothing about the cheque being fraudulent—I called Allen's two friends to prove I was a stranger to him—the Jury convicted me because I could not produce Allen—I was sentenced to nine months' hard labour—I had been convicted before—on 20th October, 1884, I was sentenced to six years' penal servitude in the name of Hawker, for being in possession of five counterfeit half-crowns—I had been previously convicted of a coining offence, and had six months; that was my only other conviction—at this time I was on convict license, and I have now to undergo the remaining term of penal servitude and the nine months—I was quite innocent of any Knowledge of this being a fraud—the three men I went to Biscoe's with were Allen, Odger, and Wilmot—they did not go in, but stood outside—I am quite sure Allen gave me this cheque—it is as true that he did so as that I am an innocent man—I had been introduced to Allen by two more friends of his at a public-house—I was with my partner, the man I was working with—I showed Allen a diamond ring, and asked him if he would like to buy it—I suppose it was a real diamond—Allen did not buy it—my partner had it, Robert Taylor, a jeweller and dealer in unredeemed pledges, at 12, Angel Court, Strand—I carried on business in partnership with him there—I was only working for him, but I was his partner in these transactions—I was introduced to this man as a man who had had a public-house, and had sold it at a large profit—I did not sell rings in public-houses—this was not a stolen ring—I came out from my sentence on license in February—I do not know Heaton, Butler, and Bayne's in Garrick Street, Covent Garden—I heard a Cheque was stolen from there on 13th July—I did not tell Allen I was a person who settled accounts and collected debts—I did not ask him if he had any accounts to settle when he told me he had this account; I did not volunteer to go and settle it—I offered him this diamond ring—he said he had not sufficient money, but he was going to pay an account at Girling's, and then he might have enough, if I cared to walk down—he said he was a distiller in the City Road—he said, "Perhaps you would not mind going in and paying my account for me; I have just taken another house at Windsor"—I said I did not mind, so I went in and told Girling I came from Allen—I was taken into custody immediately—I never got one penny from beginning to end—he gave me no reason for not going and paying Mr. Girling himself—I was anxious to sell the ring, and thought he was a good customer—that was the first time I had ever seen him—this letter I wrote to the man that introduced me to Allen—I knew him casually.
SAMUEL BISCOE . I keep the Windmill Tavern, Tabernacle Street—on the evening of 12th August Eveley came in and gave me this cheque for £10 0s. 6d., saying he was sent by Mr. Girling—I gave him a sovereign as a sort of deposit on it, and kept the cheque—ultimately he took the sovereign away—I saw two men outside; I have seen them since—I never saw the prisoner—Eveley wanted the whole amount, but I made no attempt to cash the cheque.
Cross-examined. Eveley said, "I am a publican, and my name is Allen; I have been to Mr. Girling to pay an account"—he was in and out of the house for quite an hour before he left altogether—he wanted to get more money for the cheque—that did not excite my suspicion; but two of his companions did by coming in and whispering to him—I never saw the prisoner before.
GEORGE BENWELL . I am chief cashier at the Union Bank, Regent Street branch, Argyll Street—this cheque was presented to me for payment—I do not know the signature Bruce Wright—we never had a customer of that name—it is on one of our own forms, torn from a book issued in 1885, to the firm of Heaton, Butler, and Bayne, of Covent Garden, for a special account, which has been closed for some time now—they have an account with us still.
ROBERT RANDAL MONGER . I am cashier to Messrs. Heaton, Butler, and Bayne, of Garrick Street, Covent Garden, stained glass artists—on 13th July the cheque-book from which this form was taken was issued by the Union Bank, and was stolen on 30th July, when there was a burglary on our premises—I never heard of Bruce Wright before; he has no connection with our firm.
ALFRED GOULD (Detective Sergeant G). On 12th October I saw the prisoner at Richmond Police-station—I said, "I am a police officer; I shall take you into custody for being concerned with another man, convicted in the name of Eveley, for forging and uttering a worthless cheque "—I had not the cheque; this one is the one I charged him with forging and uttering, and thereby obtaining a genuine one for £10 0s. 6d.—I said I should take him to Hoxton Police-station—he said, "All right "—on the way to Hoxton by train he said, "The first time I saw that scamp Eveley was on the Sunday prior to this transaction; on the day of the transaction I again saw him; he said to me, 'Do you owe any accounts?' I said, 'Yes; I owe Mr. Girling one, a wine merchant, in the City Road,' which I made out and gave him; the remainder of the business he did himself (meaning Eveley); I am now very sorry I went away when the 'tec collared him—at the station I produced the account—he said, "That is the one I made out and gave him "—I showed him the cheque; he made no answer to it—he said, "If I had had the money I should have gone and paid Mr. Girling on the following morning "—the charge was read over, he made no reply.
CHARLES VINEY (Police Sergeant V). I produce some of the prisoner's writing which I saw him write at Richmond Police-station—his writing is more like the writing on the account than that on the cheque—I don't say it is not like the cheque.
GEORGE BENWELL (Re-examined). I am acquainted with handwriting, especially signatures—I should not like to say these two documents were written by the same person—I think this account and the prisoner's
signatures are in the same writing, and I think the cheque may very likely be, but it is disguised writing.
Cross-examined. I think the cheque is probably disguised—I would not pledge myself to that—if it were disguised it would bear some resemblance to the ordinary writing—I do not pledge myself that the cheque is written by the same person who wrote the account—I don't think the writing on the cheque is the disguised writing of the person who wrote this letter; it might possibly be, but it is not so likely as other writing.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted.
GEORGE WILLIAM GOSLING . I am a coach ironmonger, at 311, Euston Road—on August 2nd I found the police in my place when I came to business, about 9 a. m.—my manager, Young, who had been in charge of the business the previous day, was there too—I examined the premises—as far as I could judge they had been entered from the back; I could see marks—I missed a roll of blue cloth which had been in the window for sale—there was some blue union, claret cloth, and corduroy, which had been safe the previous evening—I have since been shown some of the claret cloth—I identify what I have seen as forming part of what was in my premises the previous evening; I have not the slightest doubt about it—saw it about a week afterwards.
Cross-examined. I know nothing about you—I never saw you at my premises.
THOMAS YOUNG . I live at 178, Copenhagen Street, Islington, and am shopman to Mr. Gosling—at 7 p. m. on August 1st I fastened up the shop and locked it securely—at eight next morning I was the first to arrive at the shop—a man who lives in the upper portion of the premises let me in—when I got in I noticed one of the area windows was open—it had been left safely secured the night before—I looked in the window and missed the cloth—I examined the leads outside at the back, leading to a back window which we don't use, and saw there footmarks—the last time I had seen that window it was fastened—on the morning of the 2nd it was unfastened—I can't say whether it had been bolted or not the night before, because we don't use the window, and I don't look at it every night—I identify this cloth.
Cross-examined. I have not seen you before, except at the Policecourt.
RICHARD EDWARD GARROD . I am assistant to Henry James Pars, pawnbroker, of 168, Great College Street—this piece of claret cloth was pawned with my master on 2nd August, 1889, at three to half-past three p. m. by the prisoner, for 5s., in the name of George Anderson, 6, Holly Crescent—my master took it in; I wrote the ticket—I gave a description of the prisoner to the police—there are three yards of cloth—I asked the prisoner if he was a tailor—he said he was—I picked out the prisoner at the station from six or seven others.
Cross-examined. When I came to the station I sat for about two minutes at a table on the opposite side of which you were sitting before I picked you out.
Re-examined. I gave a description of the person who pledged the day after the pledging.
GEORGE HINDMARSH . I am assistant to William Clears, of 97, Charlton Street, Euston Road, pawnbroker—I produced a remnant of cloth pawned with me for a half-crown on 2nd August, about 3 p. m., as far as I can remember—I gave to the constable all the recollection I had of the person pawning; he was a shortish person, I cannot swear to his features.
Cross-examined. I recollect you according to your build, I cannot swear to your features.
JOHN MCDOWELL (Detective D). On 3rd August I had a description given to me by Garrod, and on 19th September I took the prisoner into custody from that description—I said, "I shall take you into custody for breaking and entering 311, Euston Road, about the first week in August"—he made no reply—on the way to the station he said, "I know it is that Meehan that has put me away; if I was big and strong enough I should do for him"—Meehan was convicted of another burglary at this Court last session, and is now in prison—the prisoner was placed among five or six others at the station, and was identified by Garrod—he gave a correct address—he left the neighbourhood, and I did not see him there after the burglary—I had been looking for him in the interval between 2nd and 20th August.
Cross-examined. You did not come up and ask me what I had been about you for; you rushed out of a public-house into my arms—Garrod was waiting in the reserve-room, where there was a number of men besides you; you were sitting down on a corner of the form, and I don't suppose he noticed you—he did not say to the Magistrate that when he saw you sitting in the station he could not say if it was you or not.
By the COURT. I examined the premises with the inspector—entrance was effected by getting from the stone-yard on to the parapet, and in at the back window—there were no shutters at the back—the cloth was in the front window.
The prisoner, in his defence, asserted his innocence, and said the witness only identified him by seeing him in the station.
GUILTY**† on the Second Count. He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in May, 1888. —Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
Mr. CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted, and MR. GRUBBE Defended.
EMILY TOMLINSON . I live at 52, Tucker Street, Canning Town—I am the widow of William Tomlinson, who died on 24th September—on Sunday, 22nd September, about twenty minutes to four, I was standing at my street door with my husband and a little boy who lodges with me—there were some preachers in the street—the boy went into the centre of the street where the preachers were—my husband followed him, and as he was bringing him back, I saw the prisoner's wife calling out to a Mrs. Tiller in an abusive manner, and she struck her in the eye—Mrs. Tiller
then went away to a neighbour's door; the prisoner's wife went after, and struck her again—the prisoner came up, and tried to take his wife indoors; as he was doing so she flew out of his arms, and jumped on to my husband's back; he tried to back away from her as she clung round him, and they fell to the ground, he undermost and she at the top; they said she was biting him, and I went to his assistance to pick him up; as I was stooping down to do so she struck me in the face with a key twice, once on the cheek and once over the left eye—I succeeded in getting my husband up; he did not say anything to her—he no sooner regained his feet than he was knocked down by a blow in the mouth from the prisoner, which knocked him backwards, and he never rose any more—he fell flat on his back on the asphalte; he never spoke again—he remained unconscious till he died on the 24th—he had not offered any violence to the prisoner or his wife.
Cross-examined. My husband worked at the same gasworks as the prisoner; they were next door neighbours for three years, and were always friendly; they never had a word in their lives—Mrs. Fitzgerald gave way to drinking habits—this quarrel had been going on for about half an hour when the prisoner came into the street with Mr. Tiller; they had been to Peckham together—the prisoner saw his wife was quarrelling, and he did his best to pull her indoors—when my husband and Mrs. Fitzgerald fell she bit him through the right cheek; he fell with his head in the roadway; there are no stones or gravel there; it is level earth—he was down for some time struggling with the woman; it was a desperate struggle—the prisoner tried to pull his wife away; my husband did not seem to feel any resentment towards him; he did not speak to him—I do not remember saying before the Magistrate that my husband said, "You will have to answer for this, "I never heard those words—my husband saw Dr. Carey at four o'clock, and he went to the hospital between ten and eleven; they refused to admit him, I took him there in a milkman's cart; it took half an hour to bring him home in the same cart, and Dr. Carey saw him afterwards.
Re-examined. He was unconscious going and returning—he did not strike his head when he fell in the road—I got him up with assistance, and before he could hardly regain his feet properly on the path he was knocked down.
HENRY TILLER . I am a labourer, and live at 52, Tucker Street—on Sunday, 22nd September, I went out with the prisoner in a brake on an excursion—we came back about a quarter to four, and just turning round the corner I saw a bit of a row—my wife was rowing with the prisoner's wife—I took my wife indoors, and the prisoner tried to take has wife indoors—as he was taking her she said, "Mr. Tomlinson, you old perjurer, you have got me fourteen days, and I will have you for it"—she sprang from the door on to his back, and both fell into the gutter—Mrs. Tomlinson tried to get her husband up, and the prisoner tried to get his wife up, and as soon as Tomlinson got on his feet the prisoner gave him a blow—I said, "You great cowardly fellow!"—he felt, and never rose or moved—he was not offering any violence to anyone; he was perfectly quiet.
Cross-examined. I did not hear the deceased say, "You will have to answer for it"—the prisoner's wife was exceedingly violent—I heard them say, "She is biting him"—they were scuffling together on the ground—they fell violently—I have known the prisoner fifteen or sixteen years—I never knew him interfere in a row before.
MARY ANN TILLER . On this Sunday afternoon I was out, near my street door—I saw the prisoner come up and take his wife away after she had been abusing me—she broke away from him and went after Tomlinson, and said, "You b——, I have done fourteen days for you, and now I will have my revenge," and she jumped on him and knocked him down in the gutter; he was not very strong; he was about sixty years of age—Mrs. Tomlinson came to her husband's assistance, and as she was picking him up Mrs. Fitzgerald gave her a blow with a key on her cheek and forehead—the prisoner picked his wife up—Tomlinson staggered against the asphalte, and the prisoner gave him one blow on the mouth, and knocked him down—he was not offering any violence to anyone, or doing anything; he was not able; he fell backwards on the asphalte, and the back of his head came on the asphalte; he never moved after that—everyone cried out, "He is killed. "
MARGARET ALLEN . I live at 37, Tucker Street—I was at my street door—I saw the prisoner standing in the road—I saw Mrs. Fitzgerald make a rush at Tomlinson, and they fell in the gutter—the prisoner went to assist his wife, and take her away, and Mrs. Tomlinson went to assist her husband, and Mrs. Fitzgerald turned round to her and struck her two blows in the face with a key—Mrs. Tomlinson partly helped her husband up; he staggered about—I don't think he could properly see, or knew where he was from the effect of the blow he received from Mrs. Fitzgerald—I saw the prisoner step forward from the road and give him a severe blow in the face, and he fell on his back on the asphalte path—I could hear a heavy thud; he fell on his head, and never moved after—at the first fall his neck caught the kerb—he fell backwards, and Mrs. Fitzgerald fell on his stomach.
Cross-examined. He staggered about when he rose the first time; he seemed dazed—he had received a severe handling from Mrs. Fitzgerald.
GEORGE WALKER . I am a joiner, and live at 35, Tucker Street—I saw Tomlinson on the ground with Mrs. Fitzgerald—he fell on his back, but I don't think the fall hurt him—the prisoner came and pulled his wife up, and Mrs. Tomlinson pulled her husband up; he walked towards Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald—they were both going the same way, and the prisoner turned round and hit him in the mouth, and he fell backwards on his head on the asphalte—Tomlinson had not done anything, he never lifted his hand.
Cross-examined. I did not hear a word said after he got up the first time.
RICHARD JOHN CAREY . I am a surgeon, of 85, Barking Road—about four on Sunday, 22nd September, I was called to Tomlinson's house; he was in bed, bleeding from the nose—he had a cut at the top of his head, and about three inches below it was a large blood tumour, caused either by a fall or a violent blow with a blunt instrument—there were some bruises on his face—he lingered on till the 24th, and then died—I made a post-mortem by direction of the coroner—I found bruises on both eyes, the left cheek, and upper lip; the brain showed both rupture and concussion; there was no fracture of the skull—the injuries were such as would be caused by merely falling on asphalte—a violent fall alone would be likely to cause concussion—assuming a blow in the mouth, which knocked him backwards, I should expect such results as I found.
Cross-examined. It must have been a fall on a hard substance—the
asphalte in that particular part of the road is perfectly hard and unyielding—he was not taken to the hospital by my advice; I think taking him in a cart would aggravate any other symptoms that might have been present; it would aggravate the concussion, and might bring on death earlier than otherwise, but his state must have been hopeless after the concussion—he was of a very weakly constitution; he was suffering from inflammation of the lungs, and had had a serious attack of pleurisy.
Re-examined. I know this road, it is a gravel road leading to the gasworks, with an asphalte pavement on each side—I think he might stand after receiving the injury—I do not think that the blood tumour and the cut on the head were the result of the same fall—I could form no opinion which was caused first—the fall on the back of the head would be just in a position to produce the concussion.
FREDERICK DICKER (Detective Sergeant). On 24th September I arrested the prisoner in Whitechapel—I said, "Tomlinson is dead, I am going to take you into custody for causing his death"—he said, "I am glad you have come; I was coming home; it was all through my wife; I can't deny I hit him, but I never thought it would come to this. "
Cross-examined. I have known him for about six years as a most respectable man, employed as a labourer at the gasworks.
THOMAS ASHER (Police Inspector). I had the prisoner in charge on 24th September—he told me he wished to make a statement—I cautioned him—he made this statement, which I took down in writing, read over to him, and he made his mark (Read: "When Tomlinson and my wife lay on the ground I took my wife off, and as I did so Mrs. Tomlinson twisted her hand in my wife's hair, and as Tomlinson got up both of them struck her; Tomlinson then struck at me; I then struck him, for which I am very sorry. "
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
The original complaint not being produced, the COURT directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
872. JOHN WATSON (30) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Elizabeth Cruse, food and liquor amounting to £5 6s. 8d. with intent to defraud; another count, for unlawfully obtaining credit by false pretences with a like intent.
MR. TYRRELL Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended. ELIZABETH MARY CRUSE. I am a widow—I keep the White Hart Hotel, Woodford—on Saturday, 31st August, about 9 p. m., the prisoner came, without any luggage, and asked for Mr. Simmons—I took the house from Mr. Simmons—the prisoner then asked for me—I went to the hotel entrance—he said, "I want the best apartments (or rooms) you have, and something to eat"—I said, "Have you any luggage?"—he said, "No"
—he gave me a card, which I gave to the clerk at the Police-court—he said, "Will you get me something to eat as quickly as possible?"—I had supper laid for him—after the supper was cleared away, he said he should like to stay with me for a day or two—I asked him why he wanted hotel apartments living so near—I knew where he lived from the address on the card he had given me—he said there was a divorce pending between him and his wife, and his house was closed at Leytonstone, and he had arranged to meet his wife at the Forest Hotel—he said he was a shipowner, of the firm of Gourley, Watson, and Company—I knew there was a firm of that name, because my husband was a shipmaster—the prisoner said he had an income of £800 a year from his father, who had a freehold estate at Chiswick—he said he was a brevet-major in the army, and that he had £16,000 in a new steamer, the Florence, then building, on the Tyne, I think; that he had a freehold estate at Chobham—he stayed in my house from Saturday till Tuesday night, and during that time I supplied him with board and lodging and whatever he required—I did so from what he said, that he was a man of ample means—he had champagne and any amount of whisky and brandy—I gave him his bill, which amounted to £4 16s. 8d. (there was a mistake in adding it up), at midday on Tuesday—he asked me if the bill was a tenner—I said, "No, it is scarcely £5"—I asked him if he would look through it with me—he said, "No, I don't want to look at it; you are not afraid I am not going to pay you"—I said, "No, not in the least; I take you to be a gentleman, as you have professed to be"—he did not pay me—he had his dinner, and then said, "I think I shall go and lie down; I will take a brandy-and-soda"—I gave him that; he went to lie down—my suspicions had been aroused when speaking to him about the bill, and I sent off a telegram to my previous manager, Mr. Mabbet—about 9 p. m. the prisoner left to cash a cheque, as he had not got a cent about him, and he was going to return and pay me—he came back about a quarter-past eleven—the house was closed—Mr. Mabbet opened the door and asked him if he had cashed his cheque—the prisoner said, "Who are you, and by what right do you speak to a gentleman in that manner?"—Mr. Mabbet said, "You need not ask who I am; are you going to pay?" something to that effect—the prisoner said, "Yes, I have the money here," putting his hand into his breast coat pocket; "You cannot take it from me"—Mabbet said, "I am not a highwayman, I shall not try"—the prisoner called out my name—I went to the door and he said, "Who is this man that he should ask if I intend paying you?"—I said, "I have given him authority to ask you, and I believe you have come here with the intention to rob me "—he laughed, and made no answer—I said, "If you are an honest man, and tell me you have not deceived me in this manner, I will give you a night's lodging "—he said, "I am a gentleman of means, and I don't intend to pay you," and he walked away, and I did not see him again till he was at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I have been eight weeks at the White Hart—before that I kept a beer and wine house at Plaistow, where we took no boarders—this is the first hotel I have taken; it is a large house—I have been seven years in the trade—I don't know how hotel business is conducted—the prisoner was perfectly sober when he came—I am quite certain he gave me a card then—he showed me a cheque lying
in his pocket-book, and sail it was for £1,300—he did not take it out—I did not receive a second card from him—I ordered food for him immediately; we had no conversation then; I was pretty busy—he told me on the Saturday he was a shipowner—I made no inquiries that evening about him—Mr. Greenall was in my house that evening—I made no inquiries of him, I am certain—I saw the prisoner shake hands with Mr. Greenall; I said, "You know him?" and he said, "Oh, yes, it is Mr. Watson, he used to live in Leytonstone"—I made no inquiries of Mr. Greenall; if 1 said at the Police-court that I did, I make a mistake—there were three or four people in the bar that evening; they seemed to know the prisoner, he spoke to two or three when he went out, and I thought be must know them by speaking to them; I spoke to no one about him—he had the appearance of a gentleman, and I could see by his speech he had the education of one, and by his hands I could tell he did not work—we had the long conversation on the Saturday, and he told me about the freehold estate; my barmaid heard it afterwards, and I have other witnesses who can prove the conversation—the conversation about the estate and his being a partner in the firm of Gourley, Watson, and Co. was almost directly he came in, between nine and the time he had supper—Mr. Mabbet has no interest in the hotel; I have not sent for him before—I sent for him because I thought the prisoner came to rob me—the prisoner was never intoxicated in my house, no more than he is now—he treated all the people in the bar—he drank champagne on the Monday; I did not drink part of it; he filled a glass for me, but I took it in the parlour and gave it to the barmaid—he asked for a bill.
Re-examined. When he had been in the house about an hour he opened his pocket book and showed me the cheque—nothing that Mr. Greenall said made me trust the prisoner.
JAMES ROBERT MABBET . I live at the Horn of Plenty—I have known Mrs. Cruse for years—in consequence of a communication from Mrs. Cruse, I went to the White Hart, Woodford, on Tuesday, 3rd September—I made out this bill for the prisoner—at eight o'clock the same evening, before the bill was given to him, he told me he was in the firm of Gourley and Watson, shipowners, and that he had a share of £16,000 in the new ship Florence; that his father allowed him an income, and that he had an estate in Surrey—Mrs. Cruse handed the bill to him, and then I came in; he told me he was awkwarkly placed, that he had no money, and that he could not settle the bill, but he would go and get change for a cheque—he left the house about nine o'clock and returned about ten minutes past eleven—he stood on the threshold; Mrs. Cruse was at the door—I asked him if he intended paying his bill—he said, "Who are you? I am a gentleman, and have the money," patting his coat pocket," and you cannot take it from me"—I said, "I am not a highwayman, and shall not try"—Mrs. Cruse said if he was a honest man and told her exactly his position she should not be hard with him, but allow him to stay there that night, not turn him out like a dog—he said, "You don't know me; I am a gentleman, and I shan't pay"—he went away.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner and his family for nearly twenty years, I suppose—I came to the hotel about 4 p. m.; the prisoner was in bed—I sent the billiard marker to tell him he was wanted, but he said he did not want to come down, and I did not see him till half-past seven—he was perfectly sober—I do not know why he went to bed at four—he
looked no different then to now—I was rather surprised at his statements about his freehold estate, and so on—I did not know they were untrue; I thought they were—he made them between seven and eight—I never drank with the prisoner in my life; he asked me to have a glass of bitter and I had one, but he did not pay for it—I drew the bill up—the prisoner told me the bill was very reasonable; I made the same remark—£1 15s. 6d. was for board and lodging for Saturday till Tuesday, and the rest was for drinks; he was treating everybody—I do not think he tried to push his way in when he returned at ten minutes past eleven—I was there to prevent his coming in—there was no violence or force—I told him he could not come in—he said he should not pay the bill; he had plenty of money—he did not say he had shown the bill to a friend of his, who recommended him not to pay it—he never mentioned Mr. Latter to me—he said at the Police-station the bill was extortionate, but not at the door—I followed him to the station—the inspector said unless I knew something else against him he could not take him into custody—I think he said it was merely a summons case, and refused to take the charge.
By the COURT. I knew nothing about the prisoner; I knew his father to be a shipowner and his brother to be in a good position.
THOMAS TURRIFF WATSON . I am a retired ship's master, and live at Chiswick—the prisoner is my son; I make him no allowance now; I have ceased doing so for about four years—I am quite sure he has no property anywhere, and that he is not a member of the firm of Gourley, Watson, and Co.
Cross-examined. I have four sons; the prisoner is the youngest—he was joint manager with a person in the North of the ship Macduff—he has never earned anything for the last four years—he married a wife with some money; he has parted from her.
Re-examined. I was principal owner of the Macduff; he was manager of her, and then had her for two years—I sold her three years ago—he was not manager of her up to the time she was sold—he was never virtually dismissed, although the meeting of owners ordered he was to be no longer manager, for he was of no service; that was four years ago—as far as I know he has done nothing since then.
ALEXANDER GILDO WATSON . I am one of the firm of Gourley, Watson and Co., shipowners and ship-chandlers, at 41 and 42, Upper East Smithfield—I am a son of the last witness—the prisoner is my brother—he is not a member of our firm, and never has been—we have a ship called the Florence—the prisoner has no share in her—he has no property anywhere—he never had any freehold estate.
JOHN BUZZEY . I keep the Hampshire Hotel, East India Docks—on 13th June the prisoner came about 1 a. m.—I opened the door to him—he had no luggage—he said he had just come up by train from Newcastle-on-Tyne, and was overlooker for the firm of Gourley, Watson and Co.; that he had a ship to look over at Mill wall Docks, and he might stop if comfortable for five or six weeks—he stayed for a week, and was supplied with some board and lodging—I did not know the firm of Gourley, Watson—I supplied him with board and lodging because I knew his father as master of the clipper Macduff years ago, and on that account I accepted his representation, and I thought his father had got him this position of overlooker—on the Wednesday night he left the house without paying.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner as the son of his father seven years—he has never introduced customers to me—he never stayed in my hotel previous to this occasion during my tenancy—I have had the hotel nine years in February; my wife is the daughter of the previous proprietor, and she has no knowledge of him. (The COMMON SERJEANT intimated that this charge an to Bussey jailed, as it woe more owing to the witness's knowledge of the father than to the representation of the prisoner that the goods or credit were obtained.)
THOMAS JOHNSON (Detective J). I arrested the prisoner on information on 11th September—I told him the charge was for obtaining food and lodgings from Mrs. Cruse—he said, "Oh, it is only a disputed bill; where does the fraud come in?"—I told him I knew nothing of the bill; my duty was to arrest him on a warrant, and take him to Woodford—I took him there; he was charged; he made no reply.
Cross-examined, When I wanted to arrest him he said, "I was just coming to Woodford to see Mrs. Cruse to pay her the bill"—he was at Fenchurch Street Station—I said, "What is the use of your coming to Woodford to see Mrs. Cruse when you have no money?"—he said, "I have money," and he produced gold and silver (I cannot say how much) from his trousers pocket—we were just passing the barriers to go to Woodford then.
Re-examined. When I arrested him at Fenchurch Street Station he said, "Will you allow me to see a friend of mine?"—I said, "Yes; we have not many minutes as the train starts at half-past eleven"—I accompanied him to Gracechurch Street, where he saw a gentleman, and after that we went back to the station—he had said nothing about money before he saw the gentleman.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
873. WILLIAM JAMES CHAPMAN (26) , PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences, from Mary Jane Heavyside 80s., with intent to defraud, and also to two indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of money.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
upon which Mr. GILL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence. The prisoner's mother, Amelia Winter, who was indicted with her, before her death made a declaration of her own guilt, and exonerated the prisoner from any participation in the crime.
NOT GUILTY .
The prisoner was tried and found GUILTY before the RECORDER in the July Session of forgery. Judgment was then respited, and she was now sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and GILL Prosecuted, and MESSRS. LOCKWOOD, Q. C., and POLAND, Q. C., with BESLEY and W. SMITH Defended. The alleged cause of death was by an endeavour to procure abortion. The
details of the evidence were unfit for publication
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted. GUILTY on the Second Count.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON AND BIRON Prosecuted. MR. CHARLES MATHEWS Defended, at the request of the Court.
HARRIET STEVENS . I live at 24, New Street, Borough Road—the prisoner and her husband lodged with me—on 31st August, about seven in the evening, my attention was directed to a noise in the prisoner's room; shortly after I heard her voice, "Take that; I have settled the b—, or, I will settle the b—," and she ran downstairs—I afterwards heard a groaning, and saw the deceased come downstairs in his shirt—my husband came in, a doctor was fetched, and the deceased was taken to the hospital in a cab.
Cross-examined. First of all I heard a sound of something heavy falling overhead—I am quite sure I heard the prisoner say "I have "or "I will settle the b—"—I did not say before the Magistrate that the words were, "I have done it"—I signed my deposition, but I can't read, I did not know what was before me.
SARAH SHEPHERD . I am single, I live next door to Mrs. Stevens—about seven in the evening on 31st August the prisoner ran by my door, saying, "Let me come by, I have scalded my husband," and she ran down Warwick Street.
MARY ANN COFFEE . I am the wife of Daniel Coffee, a railway porter—on 31st August, about five o'clock, I saw the deceased going into his house—a little while afterwards I heard someone running downstairs very fast—I went to my room door and saw the deceased in his shirt at the foot of the stairs, stooping down in agony and groaning—I afterwards saw him taken away to the hospital—I afterwards went up to his bedroom; the bed was saturated with water and sliced lemons—there was a saucepan outside the fender, lying down empty, also a pail and a can.
Cross-examined. A lamp had been broken; the chimney was off it—the can was one that the deceased used to take out his lemons in.
31st August, about seven in the evening, I saw the deceased running down the stairs in his shirt, and I saw him at the bottom of the stain groaning—the prisoner was not there, she went away, and I did not see her till Friday night, 6th September, as I was going to bed I saw her concealed in the corner of the room—I said, "Oh, Mrs. Stevens, you did frighten me!"—she said, "Don't be frightened; how is he?"—I said, "Are you aware he is very badly scalded in the hospital?" she said, "No; he did it himself," and she commenced to cry—I went to tell my brother she was there, and when I came back she had gone.
ELIZA PITFORD . I live at 10, Aldridge Street, Bermondsey; I have known the prisoner about seven or eight years—I knew her husband—I saw her on 7th August, and she struck me, and accused me of having a child by her husband, and said she would murder me and her husband too.
Cross-examined. She had threatened me more than once before, and struck me on several occasions.
FRANCIS MILTON . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on 31st August Henry Sheean was admitted there—he was very severely scalded on his arms and about his body, and was suffering from a severe shock—he died on the 14th from exhaustion, consequent on the burns—I do not think they could have been caused by his own act, if he had, while in bed, upset the hot water, it might have happened in that way.
EDWIN GODDARD (Police Sergeant M). On 1st September I went to St. Thomas's Hospital, and was shown a man said to be Henry Sheean—I took a statement from him, which I reduced into writing at the time—it was not considered a very dangerous case—I went there to get at where the prisoner was likely to be found (MR. JUSTICE STEPHEN declined to admit the statement taken under these circumstances)—on 7th September the prisoner was brought to the station, charged with unlawfully wounding her husband—after being cautioned, I read to her her husband's statement, and she said, "What has been done was through women "—after the charge was read over to her she said, "This is very hard on me. "
The prisoner, in her statement "before the Magistrate, alleged that the deceased, in endeavouring to strike her, knocked the saucepan out of her hand, and she then ran out.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted.
GUILTY — -Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FORREST FULTON Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended Archer.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted. GEORGE CLARK (Policeman L 47). I live at 67, Penrose Street, Walworth—on
28th September, about 1. 20 a. m., I was aroused by a knock at the front door, and found Constable Pitt with the prisoner Brown—Pitt said, "Does this man live here? he has just come out of your window"—I said, "No; bring him inside"—I found my ground floor window open, but no marks on it—the cheffonier was wide open, and matches were strewed over the carpet—an umbrella was removed from the stand and laid on the sofa—I charged Brown with breaking in—he made no reply—he was wearing my hat at the station, which had been on the sofa about twelve o'clock, but was gone—I found another hat there in its place—I went outside and Puddifat pointed out Tucker—the window was all right at 10. 30, and fastened with a catch.
Cross-examined by Tucker. I did not see you get out of a cab; I was in bed.
WILLIAM PUDDIFAT . I am a cab-driver, of 32, Hopewell Street, Kennington Lane—on Saturday morning, 28th September, I had put my cab away, and was outside 62, Penrose Street, going home, when I saw Tucker fall from the window-sill on the ground floor—he called a passing cab, and got into it—Brown dropped from the same window and got into the cab, and then Tucker got out on the off side—I detained Tucker till he was given in custody.
Cross-examined by Tucker, When you got out of the cab you went round the shafts, and I detained you.
JAMES PITT (Policeman L 239). On 28th September, between 1 and 2 a. m., I saw Tucker drop from the window-sill of No. 62, and saw Brown in the road—Tucker rushed out of the gate; I rushed after him—he said, "Wait a bit, we live here, we will all ride together; drive us to Carter Street"—I told the cabman to detain him, but he jumped out on the other side—I went back, and detained Brown against the door; he did not succeed in getting into the cab—they were taken to the station, and Clark said, "You are wearing my hat"—I saw Clark find the second hat under the sofa in his front room—when Tucker got into the cab he said, "Don't make a noise knocking there, you will wake my old mother up "I found on Tucker a knife, a latch-key, sevenpence, and a pawn-ticket, not relating to this charge; and on Brown threepence and a sixpence—this box of matches was found in the room.
Cross-examined by Brown. You did not tell me you picked this hat up in the garden.
WALTER GEORGE FAIRBROTHER . I am a hackney carriage driver, of 29, Dale Street, Walworth—on 28th September, between 1 and 2 a. m., I had put up my cab, and was going home, and saw Pitt there—I saw Tucker get into a cab, and get out on the other side—I saw Clark with Puddifat; he held Tucker, and Clark got hold of him—I saw Brown in Pitt's custody.
Cross-examined by Tucker. I did not see you fall from the window or in the garden.
Tucker's Defence. I was going home, and saw a disturbance, and stopped—the master of the house came out, and somebody said, "That is the one," and they took me to the station—I don't know this man—I have been in prison a month to-day for nothing at all.
Brown's Defence. I was walking by and saw the garden gate wide open and the hat inside, and I picked it up.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour each ,
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted. JOHN GREGORY. I am a fireman in the employ of the South-Eastern Railway, and live at Annesly Street, Old Kent Road—on Saturday, October 12th, about 1. 15 a. m., I was with Lock, passing the Elephant and Castle, and saw the prisoner standing some yards from a coffee-stall; when I got by he threw a cup of coffee on me—I said, "Why did you do that?"—he said that I knocked his elbow as I walked past—I said that I was sorry, and he turned round and struck my friend Tullett, who is not here—a man with the prisoner took the cup and saucer out of his hand and took it to the coffee-stall, and said, "Come on, Bill"—three or four men got round me, and while the prisoner was striking me on my face I felt a tug at my watch; I put my left hand over it, but somebody tugged at it and broke the chain—I lost part of the chain and a locket, but the bar was left in my button-hole—the prisoner hurt me very much, and made my nose bleed—he went away and came back again, and I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were standing in a doorway with a cup of coffee in your hand; my back was turned to you—you did not deny throwing the coffee when I charged you with it.
Re-examined. I held my hat over my face while they were punching me, and that is how it came in this broken state.
WILLIAM FRANCIS LOCK . I am a commercial traveller, of 42, Laburnum Street, Kingsland—early on this Saturday morning I was by the Elephant and Castle, and saw Gregory and the prisoner and several companions—I saw a scuffle, and saw the prisoner hit Gregory—they then moved towards the Elephant and Castle, on to the pavement, and the prisoner struck Gregory a second time in the face, and knocked him against a doorway—he kept on hitting him in the face, Gregory holding his hat in front of his face to keep the blows off—two of the prisoners companions who I had seen with him a little while before, stepped up to Gregory, and one of them made a snatch at his watch and chain—Gregory held his watch in his pocket, and the chain broke off with the locket, and the man went away, and the prisoner also—a cabman fetched a constable, to whom I described the prisoner—I next saw him at the Rockingham public-house, and pointed him out, and the constable took him—I walked beside him on the road to the station, and he threatened to do for me if he got anything for this—the first blow Gregory had, made his nose bleed—his head struck the doorway and I thought he was stunned—his nose was bleeding at the station, and he was very much bruised about his face.
Cross-examined. I said that I had seen the gang for three or four months, but had not seen you for some time; I am that way of a night, and know most of you by sight.
HENRY FREDERICK ORANGE . I am a cabdriver, of 102, Avenue Road, Camberwell—I went to the coffee-stall to get a cup of tea, and saw the prisoner and two men not in custody holding Gregory in a doorway; the prisoner was punching him; several people cried "Shame!" and I fetched a constable—as I came back the prisoner ran towards the fire station in the middle of the road—I said to Gregory, "There he is, why he you not charge him?"—he said, "I don't want to look no man up"—the went across the road, and Lock pointed him out, and Gregory gave
him in custody—Gregory's face was very much battered and bruised and bleeding, and his hat was knocked to pieces.
CHARLES PEPPERDAY (Policeman K 201). I was called and saw Gregory; his face was bleeding, and his hat broken—the prisoner was pointed out to me by the Rockingham; I took hold of him and said I should take him for assaulting a man—he said, "I never touched the man; you are taking me for nothing"—on the way to the station he told Lock that if he came against him he would wait on him when he came out—Gregory opened his coat at the station, and this bar of the chain fell from his waistcoat—the prisoner refused his address; he said he had just come from Bristol.
The Prisoner produced a written defence, stating that the charge was made up against him owing to his coat and handkerchief, and to his having just come out of prison, and contended that if he had stolen the locket he would not have come back to be given into custody.
GUILTY . He was further charged with a conviction of felony at this Court on 8th April, 1889, but as it appeared that the charge was misdemeanour and not felony, the RECORDER directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY— Nine Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted. This case had been tried on a precious day before MR. COMMON SERJEANT, when the JURY, being unable to agree, were discharged without giving a verdict. On that occasion the prisoner had complained that the prosecutors clerk was not called, and as the clerk was still absent the RECORDER declined to adjourn the case for his appearance.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MESSRS. POLAND and BESLEY Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
886. JOHN PLOWDEN (30) , to stealing eleven pieces of carpet, the property of Joseph Sawyer Gainsford ; also to four other indictments for stealing carpets from other persons (The police stated that he had been carrying on a system of fraud for a long time past.)— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. WARDE Defended.
ALFRED VANE . I am a butter manufacturer, of 36, Abbey Street, Bermondsey—the prisoner entered my service last March or April, to look after my books—I first engaged him for two hours a day at 10s. a week,
and afterwards voluntarily raised him to 14s. a week—he had no authority to endorse cheques—he left on August 20th—I was not to receive £7 5s. from the Army and Navy Stores; the money was not due to me, and I did not expect it—I never saw this cheque (produced) till I saw it at the Police-court—I did not sign my name at the back, it is the prisoner's writing—I did not give him authority to sign it.
Cross-examined. I was very desirous of getting my goods introduced at the Army and Navy Stores, the Junior Army and Navy Stores, and at Whiteley's, and the prisoner told me he could do so—I did not promise him £10 for doing so to the three, or £3 6s. 8d. for either of the three—he introduced my business to the Junior Army and Navy Stores, but I did not give him £3 6s. 8d. for so doing; he was to receive nothing, he merely did it for friendship—he was not to travel and collect for me, but he did at times when I ordered him to do so—he was not to have five per cent, on the orders he obtained and five per cent, on the orders he collected—he wrote my letters and kept the books—he was in the office two hours a day, sometimes more—he was not out for me the remainder of the day—I am not away a great deal—I may have been away when the order for £7 5s. was paid—I occasionally attend race meetings, but am only away one day—I have been away fourteen or fifteen days at a stretch without leaving my address, and my business was carried on by my foreman—I was not rather pressed by creditors—I had two small judgment summonses—I was not desirous of not being at my place of business in case of meeting those judgments—I have given the prisoner permission once or twice to endorse cheques, and he has done so; and I have allowed other people in my employ to do so—Mr. Crowther, my foreman, endorses cheques for me—the prisoner had no authority to open letters in my absence; my foreman does that—the prisoner has opened letters, and I knew it afterwards—I have allowed him to sign my name to letters—I was about taking some property in Pomeroy Street, and I let him sign a letter in my name, and also the income-tax returns—I did not send him a telegram on August 9th, telling him to pay Messrs. Goldney 21s.—I owed them 21s., and the prisoner took the cheque there and paid them with it—he did not send me an account showing the receipt of the £7 5s., and the payment of 21s. to Messrs. Goldney, and the balance due to him; I never received it or any letter from him; he never knew my address; he sent every letter to my place of business—he sent me a letter which was supposed to come from Birmingham, but that did not enclose an account—I do not owe him £2 7s. 11d.; he was paid up to the Saturday before he left—two or three days may be owing to him—my foreman paid him more frequently than myself—I gave him in custody seven weeks afterwards, when I caught him.
By the COURT. I know nothing whatever of this cheque, I was not expecting it; the money was not due to me, the order was not finished—I complain that having quite unexpectedly a letter sent to my office, he having authority to open my letters, took out the cheque and stole it—this is not an imitation of my signature; I should not think for a moment it was mine, mine is all in one—the order from the Army and Navy was for £15 or £16, and I had sent in some of the goods—the prisoner had no other employment that I know of—he had no commission for getting orders or collecting debts.
JOSEPH GRANT . I am an accountant at the Army and Navy Stores—on 15th August I saw this cheque drawn, and handed it to "Walker, a clerk—it was not endorsed—I afterwards saw a letter addressed to Mr. Vane—I subsequently received this receipt (for the cheque).
WILLIAM WROTH . I am clerk to Colvill and Co., stationers, 103, Tooley Street—on August 20th the prisoner called, and brought this cheque—Mr. Vane owed us £1 1s.—I gave the prisoner a receipt for that amount, and the remainder part in cash and part by cheque.
The RECORDER considered that there was no case to go to the JURY.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted, THOMAS CREPPS. I am a decorator—on September 7th, about 8 p. m., I was in Battersea Park Road, and went into a public-house—I came out in five or ten minutes, and the prisoner and Simpson, who is convicted (See page 1155), knocked me down, and got hold of me on each side, and both kicked me on my forehead—one of them took a sovereign out of my pocket—I don't know which, because I was insensible for five minutes—there were one or two more, but I don't think they were near me at the time the sovereign was taken—they went down a by-street and under a railway-arch, and I lost sight of them—I went to the Police-station and gave information—I did not know either of them before—on 28th September I went to the station, between 3 or 4 a. m., and was shown a number of men, and picked out the prisoner among them—I am positive he is one of those who assaulted me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not take you and a young woman into the Masons' Arms, nor did the big door strike me on my forehead as I came out—you and Simpson did not run after me down a street between seven and eight o'clock—I ran down the street after you at eight o'clock.
WILLIAM SAVAGE (Policeman). On September 7th I was at my door, 13, Gladstone Terrace, Battersea Park Road, and saw Simpson and the prisoner running after the prosecutor—he was in front, Simpson was close to him, and Tudor behind—I knew them well, and watched where they went—shortly afterwards I went to the Police-station, about eight o'clock, and Cripps came in and gave information, and Simpson was taken and tried and convicted last session—Cripps was exhausted from loss of blood—he was bleeding from his forehead—he had a cut over his left eye about an inch long, and another large cut on the other side—he was sober, but excited—the Masons' Arms is about thirty yards from Lockington Park Road—Cripps ran first, pursued by the other two—he was not bleeding when I saw him first, at seven o'clock.
THOMAS TAYLOR (Policeman W R 30). On September 7th, about 11. 30, I saw the prisoner in Palmerston Street—I followed him, but lost sight of him—I made inquiries, and afterwards went to 100, Longbridge Street,
and saw him in a front room—I said, "I shall take you in custody for being concerned with another man under sentence, in a robbery and assault in Battersea Park Road"—he said "All right, governor"—he was taken to the station, and picked out from others.
HENRY JENMAN (Police Sergeant W). I was with Taylor when the prisoner was apprehended—he was asked his name and address—he said he had no home, and commenced making a statement—I told him to wait till I wrote it down, which I did, and he signed it—this is it—a man named Lane was charged with him, who was discharged by the Magistrate. (Read: "I was called across the road by Bob Simpson; he said there was some one drunk there; I was with Alfred Lane; we had some more drink; I left Lane on the other side."
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he was with Lane when Simpson called him and said that the prosecutor was drunk; that they went to the Rock House, and the prosecutor came in with two others and drank with him; that he was very drunk, and as he left the public-house the heavy door struck him on his eye, and the force of the blow cracked the stained glass; he denied robbing the prosecutor.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY*** to a conviction at Wandsworth on 11th June, 1887.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour, and twenty-five strokes with the cat.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
892. JOHN (31) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Hector McLean with intent to steal, after a conviction of burglary at Maidstone in December, 1888.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
894. ROBERT HALL (30) , to two indictments for stealing articles of clothing, the goods of his masters, Henry John Searle and Sons, and also to embezzling £1 2s. 6d., £2, and £3 10s., received by him for and on account of his masters, and to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £3.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
895. WALTER SHERLOCK** (24) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Philip Muggeridge, with intent to steal therein, having been convicted of felony in December, 1888.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. And
896. SIDNEY HAWKINS**(26) , to breaking and entering the Church of All Saints, Kenley, and stealing various articles therein; having been convicted of felony in January, 1887.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
GEORGE WILLMAN (Policeman L R 11). On September 24th, about 8. 30 p. m., I was in the New Cut, and arrested the prisoner on another charge—I placed him in the dock; he was very uneasy, working at something in his coat pocket—I searched him, and found a hole in the lining of his pocket, and in the lining of his coat two packets, one containing nine, and the other ten, counterfeit half-crowns, enclosed in newspaper inside the brown paper, and a piece of paper between each—
this is the inner paper—he said, "I cannot account for them"—I found on him a sixpence and 2 1/4 d.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not attempt to get rid of anything—you went very quietly to the station, but there was another constable on your other side holding you by your sleeve.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER. I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—here are nineteen counterfeit half-crowns wrapped in two packets, ten in one and nine in the other—they are from several moulds—ten is what they term a half load.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that the coins must have been put into his coat purposely to get him into trouble, the lining being worn away by his hands.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in March, 1883, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted; MR. BASSETT HOPKINS Defended.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted, and MR. LOWE Defended. BRUCE BRIDGER. I am a hairdresser, of 18, Newington Crescent, Newington Butts—at twenty-five minutes past twelve, on the night of the 9th and morning of the 10th September, I was walking along Newington Butts with Annie Kent, when the prisoner, who was walking in the same direction, came in front of us, then allowed us to pass him, and then he walked by again, and as he did so he snatched my silk handkerchief, worth about 6s., and ran down Horse and Groom Passage with it—I ran after him, and Kent followed me—we got into Horse and Groom Passage, which is a blind alley, before he turned; then he ran back—Kent stood with outstretched arms—he pushed her in the chest, and knocked her over—I continued to chase him, and as I was near the top of the alley another man bumped into me—I had a coat on like Butler's, who was a witness at the Police-court, and was about his height—I did not notice his features—I still followed—the prisoner ran through a urinal—as he went to go through the constable made a grab at him, but the prisoner went through the urinal and came out on the other side of the road, almost by Lower Kennington Lane, where there is a little joiner's shop—the prisoner fell down there on his stomach, and the policeman took him—when he stood up my handkerchief was at his feet on the ground—this is my handkerchief; it is red—I did not see the prisoner's handkerchief before I got to the station—when they picked him off the ground at Lower Kennington Lane, I said I would charge him with stealing my handkerchief—he then pulled his tie off and broke it, and said, "Why, I charge him with stealing my gold pin"—I saw the pin in his tie when he did that.
Cross-examined. I had been to the Canterbury Music Hall with Miss Kent and three others—this was twenty-five minutes past twelve—we went to the Old Dover Castle opposite after leaving the music hall—I had two glasses of stout—I can't say what time the hall closes—I have been there lots of times, and I always stay to the end; it closes at eleven as a rule; I have no reason to suppose it was later on this night—from the public-house we all five walked down to the Elephant—I was not in the public-house half an hour, I don't know how long it was—I daresay it would take twenty-five minutes to walk from the Dover Castle to the Elephant—all I did after leaving the music hall was to go to the public-house and then walk to this place—I never saw a young woman with the prisoner—Lizzie Abbey was a witness at the Police-court, and came to the station the night the prisoner was charged—the first time I saw her that night was when she came to the station—Butler did not come to the station but to the Police-court; that was the first time I saw him, to the best of my belief—I saw Mr. Cheverton at the station, not before, I swear—when my attention was first attracted to the prisoner he was the only one I saw at the time to the best of my belief, I never saw anyone with him—I was taking notice of Kent, and not of anyone else—it is not the fact that I was walking along with my young woman, the prisoner with his, and Butler with his, and that we were all together having a wrangle, and that I and the prisoner commenced wrestling—that is not true; there was no wrangling—I did not take off my handkerchief and pull him down with it—I never had the prisoner in my grasp—Horse and Groom Passage is longer than this Court—I followed the prisoner—Kent followed me to the best of my belief—when the prisoner got to the bottom he turned and came back and I tried to stop him, but he eluded my grasp, dived under my arm—I was running up the court after him when he knocked Kent down—when the constable had him and I came up, my young woman charged him with assault—I did not charge him with assault, because he did not touch me; very likely I charged him with assaulting her—I first charged him with stealing my handkerchief—I don't think I charged him at all with assaulting her, I told her to charge him—she did so—I solemnly say I did not charge him with the assault on her—I said I would charge him with stealing the handkerchief—the constable did not say I should summon him—if anyone says they heard him say so, that is untrue—I saw my handkerchief on the ground when I came up to the constable and prisoner—I said, "That is my handkerchief"—the constable said, "Will you give him in charge for stealing it?"—before the constable asked me, I said I would charge him with stealing it—I was excited and out of breath—the constable was not excited to my knowledge—it is impossible that my excitement may interfere with my correct recollection of what took place—when the constable asked me if I would charge him with stealing it, I said I would—the prisoner said, "I never stole his handkerchief," but not directly, we picked him off the ground and then he said it—Butler never said, "You know he did not steal the handkerchief"—the prisoner was crossing the road when I got to the top of the court—after he went through the urinal, I saw him fall flat on his stomach with his arms outstretched—I am twenty-three or twenty-two years old—I am in business as a hairdresser at 4, Newland Terrace, Kensington—I have not been there very long—before that I was in the Post Office as an auxiliary
sorter in the newspaper branch—I had three nights of four hours each on duty at 2s. per night, and you are supposed to have other employment—I had no other employment, and the authorities found it out when I asked for a better position, and they said I must resign—that was the only reason I had to resign.
Re-examined. I did not leave in consequence of having done anything wrong—I had six years' character before I went there; you must have a good character to get into the Post Office—the prisoner was charged with stealing the scarf which was lying on the ground by his side—he was also charged with assaulting Miss Kent.
Cross-examined. The Horse and Groom passage is fifty-six yards long.
ANNIE KENT . I am single, and live at 184, Ladbroke Grove Road, Kensington—on this night I was walking with Bridger in Newington Butts—he was perfectly sober—we had come from the Canterbury, and had been in one public-house after leaving it—he had had two glasses of stout, and I had had one; that was all we had had—the prisoner passed us, then we passed him—he snatched the handkerchief off the back of Bridger's neck and ran down the Horse and Groom passage—Bridger ran after him and I after Bridger down this court—the prisoner turned to come back, as the court has no thoroughfare—I tried to stop him by holding out my arms, and he knocked me with his fist on my chest and knocked me down—I don't think he hurt me—when I got up I fancied I saw another young fellow at the top of the court—he had a light coat on—the next thing I saw of the prisoner was that he was in custody in Kennington Lane—he said Mr. Bridger wanted to steal his gold pin—I charged him with assaulting me—I saw him searched at the Policestation, and a brown handkerchief taken from his pocket—I did not see Butler that night, but I saw him at the Police-court next day—he resembles the man I thought I saw in the court—I think he is the same man; I am not sure.
Cross-examined. I met this other man after I picked myself up, and was coming up the court—Bridger then came down the court from the street end to fetch me—he saw me knocked down, because he was after the prisoner—when I was knocked down Bridger was between me and the blind end of the court—he ran past me, and came back to help me—I was already up when he came—he helped me across the road; I think I took his arm; I daresay I was able to cross the road by myself—we walked across the road, and found the prisoner in custody—he was up then—I think several people were there—Bridger first said he would charge him with stealing his handkerchief—I think he said that before he said he would charge him with assaulting me—if someone said he first charged him with assaulting me, I should not swear that was untrue, but I think it was the other way—the constable asked if he would charge him with stealing—Bridger said that was his scarf; he recognised it—when he recognised it the constable said, "Will you charge him with stealing it?" and then he said, "Yes, I will"—there was nobody about before I was knocked down—there was no wrangling whatever—I saw nobody else but Bridger, the prisoner, and myself—I could have seen them if there had been—I will swear no one else was round as far
as my recollection goes—I am speaking of the Horse and Groom passage—there was no dispute between Bridger and the prisoner—the first time I saw Butler was when he was at the entrance to the court after I picked myself up—I did not notice him among the people when I and Bridger came up to the constable and the prisoner—I don't remember Butler or anyone saying to Bridger, "You know he did not steal your handkerchief"—there were not many people about—I cannot tell you if the few there seemed excited—I went to the policestation; Butler did not come there—I saw Cheverton there, and heard him dissent from the constable's evidence—I heard the inspector speaking to Cheverton.
WILLIAM SNOW (Policeman L 253). At 12. 30 on the night of 9th September I was standing in the shadow of the urinal at the corner of Newington Butts, almost opposite, but to the left of the entrance to Horse and Groom Court—I heard a cry of "Stop him"—I saw the prisoner running towards me from the direction of Horse and Groom Court, and Bridger two or three yards behind him—I seized him by the arm and caught his coat, but he snatched it away from me and ran through the urinal without stopping—I spoke to Bridger—the prisoner came out on the Kennington Lane side of the urinal and ran across the road, and fell exactly opposite the Horse and Groom public-house—I saw him take this red handkerchief (which Bridger has identified) out of his left hand coat pocket and leave it on the ground—he then turned round and snatched his tie off and accused Bridger of stealing his pin—he said, "I will charge that man with attempting to steal my pin "—when he took his tie off a pin was in it—his tie was in his hand at the time—Bridger charged him with stealing his handkerchief, and a young lady also charged him with assaulting her by knocking her down—I searched the prisoner at the station, and took from his pocket this brown handkerchief—the necktie he snatched off he was wearing at the Police-station and afterwards.
Cross-examined. I saw nothing of this brown scarf till the prisoner was searched at the station—I was at the opening of the urinal nearest Horse and Groom Court when I first saw the prisoner—he slipped and fell on the kerb upon his face with his hands outstretched—immediately he did so he brought one hand back—it was raining very fast at that moment—soon after Bridger and Kent came up—they did not come up together—Bridger came first; he did not say then that he would charge the prisoner with assaulting his young woman—he said he would give him in charge for stealing—he said he would charge him with assaulting the young woman when he came back from fetching her—he went back to fetch her; she was across the road—it is not true that they came up together—he first said he would charge him with taking this—I did not say, "You had better summon him, "or anything about summoning him—I did not see a handkerchief like this red one lying on the prisoner's shoulder—I will say there was not such a thing—Bridger saw it on the ground and said, "That is mine"—I then said, "Will you charge him with stealing it?" and he said "Yes, I will"—the prisoner said, "I did not steal his handkerchief, he stole or tried to steal my scarf-pin," something like that—I saw Cheverton at the station very soon after I got there—I don't know if he accompanied the prisoner when I took him into custody—I saw Miss Abbey also—Cheverton heard me give my evidence to the inspector—he said that was not a true account of what
had taken place, and the inspector told him to be quiet, he would be heard next morning—the inspector did not refuse to listen to what he had to say—Cheverton was not drunk, but was very excited—the inspector is here—Cheverton was not at the first hearing before the Magistrate—on the remand a solicitor appeared for the prisoner; he asked for Cheverton's name and address—he had it the same day I believe—I knew it, but I did not give it to him directly he asked for it in Court; it was in my pocket-book, which was not in my pocket—I did not refuse to give it till Mr. Partridge made an order—Mr. Partridge made the order—I cannot say why he did so unless I had refused to give it.
Re-examined. I gave it to him on the day he asked for it.
WILLIAM MAY (Inspector L). I was on duty at the Police-station—when the prisoner was charged he said, "I did not steal his scarf; he tried to steal my pin"—when he made the charge he gave an account of how it had been stolen—Cheverton came to the station and said the prisoner and prosecutor were tussling together, and it was in consequence of that that he charged him with stealing his handkerchief; both the prosecutor and Kent denied that, and I tried to get statements from Bridger and Kent, Cheverton appeared to me more like a lunatic—I had to put him outside the station before I could get at anything—I told him I would hear him afterwards—I put his name and address on the charge-sheet, and told him he could give his evidence at the Police-court next day.
Cross-examined. I told him to be quiet—I do not allege Cheverton was drunk, he appeared to me more like a lunatic—I heard what he had to say after I had taken the charge—he said the constable was speaking false—he said the prisoner and prosecutor were having a tussle.
Witnesses for the Defence.
LIZZIE ABBEY . I live at Larrison Street, Walworth, and am a laundress—on the night of 9th September I was with Christopher Butler and Charley Anderson and a young woman—we had been to a concert at the Lamb and Hare—we left about twenty minutes past twelve and went towards the Elephant and Castle—when we got to the Horse and Groom I turned back to give my friend an umbrella, and I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor struggling at the edge of the kerb at a little corner before you come to Horse and Groom Court, just before you come to the public-house—I saw no more after that struggle—I don't remember if I saw the prisoner run—I afterwards saw him on the other side of the road—I went up and stood at the side—I heard the prisoner say that he wished to charge Bridger with stealing his gold pin—I heard nothing said by Bridger about the prisoner having assaulted his young woman—I went to the Police-station—I said nothing there as to what had taken place.
Cross-examined. I forget if I saw the prisoner run across the road and fall in Kennington Lane—I forget what I saw in Kennington Lane, I was so excited.
Re-examined. I have not given evidence before in Courts of Justice.
CHRISTOPHER JAMES BUTLER . I live at 14, Dante Road, Newington Butts, and am a printer—on the night of 9th September I was out with the witness Abbey and some more friends—we went along towards the Horse and Groom—I only saw a little bit of a scuffle near the Horse and Groom
public-house between the prisoner and Bridger, I believe—I stood two or three yards away—I cannot say what the result of the scuffle was; I had had a little drop of drink—I afterwards saw the prisoner in custody—I do not recollect if I said anything to Bridger or the constable as to whether the prisoner had stolen or tried to steal his scarf—I gave evidence at the Police-court, and the Magistrate ordered that I should be committed to take my trial for perjury on the evidence I then gave—that was at once, before he had heard the evidence of Cheverton—I heard Cheverton's evidence—I don't know if he corroborated me.
Cross-examined. Both Abbey and I were committed for perjury—I have not given that evidence to-day because I cannot recollect what I did say.
EDMUND RICHARD CHEVERTON . I live at 5, Vassal Road, Brixton, and manage the Cleveland Farmers' Dairy Company, Limited, Brixton branch—on 9th September I had been to France's auction-room, and was walking home on the left-hand side of Newington Butts, going towards Brixton—when approaching the Horse and Groom public-house I saw Bridger and the prisoner quarrelling—I thought they were quarrelling about the young woman; I could not hear—I saw Abbey there—I did not look at them above two minutes when I saw Bridger take a handkerchief or a comforter from him and throw it round the prisoner's neck like a noose—it was dark at half-past twelve, and I cannot swear to the handkerchief; I thought at the Police-court it was this brown one; I believe it was one of these—the prisoner then threw Bridger to the ground—Bridger caught hold of the prisoner's coat, and pulled him down on his knees—the prisoner released his grasp, and got away—when he got up he looked round; some people were coming towards them, and the prisoner ran across the road towards Kennington Lane—I saw the two men from the moment the quarrelling first attracted my attention till the prisoner ran across the road—the prisoner ran down no passage or lane; he only ran across the open road; I swear that—he was caught very soon after he got to the other side by a constable, Snow, I believe, but I could not swear to him, I took no notice of him—I think Bridger and I got up to the prisoner and constable about the same time—Bridger said he would give the prisoner into custody for assaulting his young woman; that he had knocked his young woman down; that was the first charge he made—I did not see his young woman knocked about—when he said that, the young woman came up by the side of him—the constable said, "You had better take his name and address and summons him "—the prosecutor said, "He has got my handkerchief," pointing to a handkerchief hanging on the prisoner's shoulders, and partly, I should think, in the breast pocket—I should think it had not hung there above three minutes—I think the one on his shoulder was the one I saw Bridger throw there, but I could not swear to it—the constable said, "Will you give him in charge for stealing it?" the prosecutor said, "Yes, I will—the prisoner said, "I never stole his handkerchief; he is after my gold scarf pin; look," and he showed his gold pin to the constable—I could not say where his scarf was—I did not know the people—I only felt for the man to be charged with the theft when he had not done it—I never saw either of the men before that night—the prisoner was taken to the station and I went too—the handkerchief got to the station, the constable said he found it in the prisoner's pocket—I said how did he know it was
there before the prisoner was searched; and he said I was drunk or mad or something—I was not excited—the inspector at the station said I could say what I had to say next morning—I did not go to the Police-court next day because my wife was called to a sick relation, and forgot to shut the door, and left the gas burning, and when I got home at half-past twelve I found a constable watching the place—afterwards the prisoner's friends begged of me to come and say what I could, and I came although at great inconvenience.
Cross-examined. I swore at the Police-court that Bridger took off his scarf and put it round the prisoner's neck, and pulled it tight; it looked to me like it—I said the scarf he took off was the colour of the curtains behind the Magistrate—I believe these are the two scarves I saw at the Police-court—I think I said I thought he was wearing the brown scarf—that was found in the prisoner's pocket; I suppose being dark I made a mistake—the prisoner ran away—I will swear he did not run down Horse and Groom Court while I was looking at him; not within a quarter of an hour, I did not see him—I did not lose sight of him from the time I saw him wrestling till the constable had hold of him—he did not go in the urinal at the time of this occurrence—I was asked at the Police-court to pick out the constable who took the prisoner into custody, and I could not identify him—I picked out another constable, who was in bed in another part of London at the time—I was not positive—it was eleven days afterwards—I said I was not sure—I believe I cannot pick out the constable or the handkerchief, but I can tell you about the occurrence.
Re-examined. I said, "I think he is the constable"—if I did not say so I should have done, because I could not be certain.
GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
No evidence was offered by MR. TICKELL on behalf of the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered by MR. TICKELL on behalf of the Prosecution.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1889.