CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIFTH SESSION, HELD MARCH 3RD, 1899.
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, March 3rd, 1890, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR HENRY AARON ISAACS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Right Hon. LORD COLERIDGE, Lord Chief Justice of England; Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., Sir POLYDORE DE KEYSER , Knt., and Sir JAMES WHITEHEAD , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; PHINEAS COWAN , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., and HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ISAACS, MAYOR. FIFTH 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.
OLD COURT.—Monday, March 3rd, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FULTON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and BIRON Prosecuted; MESSRS. FILLAN and R. HARINGTON appeared for John Walton, and MR. DUCA for Emily Walton.
ALFRED WILLIAM CARPENTER . I am a banker, carrying on business at the Charing Cross Bank in Bedford Street, Strand—in October, 1884, the female prisoner called on me—she gave the name of Miss Annie Walton—she said she wanted to borrow £800 on two freehold houses at New Brighton, in Cheshire, which were left to her by her uncle—I told her if the security was sufficiently valuable I should be pleased to do it—after surveying the property I sent her to my solicitors, Messers. Taylor and Sons, to finish the matter—in consequence of their report I advanced the prisoner £800—I sent them the £800 to give to the prisoner on 8th January—on 1st July, 1885, I again saw the prisoner, and made her a further advance of £100, and on 22nd February, 1886, another sum of £200—I know her signature—this is the mortgage deed, and in the three instances she signed the name of Annie Walton—I advanced the money on the strength that she was the Annie Walton entitled to this property—proceedings were first taken against me by the real Annie Walton in May, 1888—judgment was given against me, and I was ordered by the Court of Chancery to give up the title deeds in, my possession—I have never received a penny of the £1,100; it has all gone
—when the prisoner called on me she brought certain deeds relating to this property—they have been given up to Annie Walton.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. It was in January, 1885, that the £800 was got—I don't know what became of it—I don't know that £500 went to pay off a mortgage on a reversion; she told me she wanted it to-put into a pawnbroker's business at Liverpool—with about £150 of it she opened an account at the Charing Cross Bank, of which I am a proprietor—in June, 1886, the half-year's interest was not paid, and we pressed for it—I did not hear that the deed was not signed by Annie Walton till the end of 1887, about the 1st or 2nd October, when Annie Walton called on me with Mr. Potter, and said that the deeds in my possession were forgeries—Mr. Potter said that she was desirous of executing a proper mortgage to replace the £1,100—I do not recollect Mr. Potter saying that she had authorised Emily to raise the money; she did execute another mortgage—she said something in an off-hand manner about wanting to get her out of the difficulty—when the half-year's interest became due in April, 1888, I applied to her first, and she could not pay—there was a good deal of negotiation to try and raise money on this as well as some other property; they could not raise sufficient—she then consulted Messers. Miller and Miller, solicitors, and instituted a suit in Chancery to set aside the deed which she had signed in my presence—I did not know Miller and Miller; I did not like it, and I defended the action before Mr. Justice Kekewich in May, 1889; he set the deed aside—I was not satisfied with his judgment, and I appealed to the Court of Appeal; that Court upheld his decision—I afterwards took proceedings against the prisoner Emily—I do not think that Annie has treated me well in this matter.
Re-examined. I heard Mr. Justice Kekewich's judgment—he held that no consideration was given for the deed—when the female prisoner called on me she did not state that her name was Emily, and that she was acting on behalf of Annie.
ANNIE WALTON . I live at 14, Overstein Road, Wandsworth—the male prisoner is my brother; the female prisoner is my sister-in-law—my uncle died in 1883—under his will I became entitled to certain property, consisting of the house 14, Overstein Road, and two houses at New Brighton, known as Belmont Villas—the title deeds of those three houses and the probate of the will came into my possession on the death of my uncle—I gave them to my sister-in-law—my brother was living with her at Liverpool—he took the deeds there with him in 1883—I consented for him to take them—I next saw them in 1884—he sent them by post from Liverpool; I wrote to him—I had them in the house in April, 1884, and my sister-in-law came over for them; they had come from Liverpool to live in Louvain Road, close to me—she said, "Annie, will you let John look at the deeds?" and of course I gave them to her—during 1884, '85, '86, and '87 I asked many times what had become of the deeds; I wrote both to my brother and sister-in-law to return them—I saw my brother about them many times, and he kept saying they were quite safe with him; I think that was year after year from 1884 up to the time of the discovery of the forgery—it was on 31st July, 1887, that I first knew of their being mortgaged to Mr. Carpenter—I never authorised my sister-in-law to raise money on them, or to pay off a debt or mortgage of mine; there is no truth whatever in that suggestion—in July or August I discovered
something was wrong about the New Brighton deeds; I received a letter from Miss Hall, one of my tenants—the female prisoner saw it, and read it; this is the letter. (This stated, "Mother is very anxious to know who she is to pay the rent to; Mr. Carpenter said in his letter we were to pay him, and if we paid anyone else he should expect it again")—I showed that to Emily, and she said, "Take no notice of it; it is a mistake"—I was satisfied with that—I asked her for the deeds, and she said they were quite safe in the house—that was the first time I heard of Mr. Carpenter—I wrote to John about it after that; I have not got his answer—I did not go to see him; he was at Liverpool at that time—I spoke to him about these forgeries on his return from Liverpool; I can't say the exact date; I think it was the beginning of August, 1687, and he said he thought he should have died of it, and that he knew nothing about it; he seemed greatly grieved about it—I know Emily's handwriting—the three endorsements, "Annie Walton," on this deed are not my writing—I never authorised any person to sign it; it is my sister-in-laws writing; I never authorised her to write my name there; I have never received a penny of the money—when they were living at 13, Louvain Road I did not visit them very often—I had an opportunity of seeing the way in which they lived; they lived very well—I don't know what my brother's occupation was; I don't think he has been doing anything for years; from 1884 to 1887 I don't think he was in any occupation—Mary Farrell is in my service—between 1885 and 1887 I frequently sent her to my brother's—I do not remember her being present when there was a conversation with my brother about the deeds—I brought an action against Mr. Carpenter, and recovered my deeds—I saw him in 1887—I did not want to execute a mortgage, it was only to allow them six months to replace the money—I went to Mr. Carpenter at the time the forgery was discovered, when some trouble began—the proposition was made that we should give them six months to replace the money—I was not willing to replace the £600—the prisoners were not authorised by me to raise money on these title-deeds.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. It was proposed that six months should be allowed to raise the money, and on that I executed the mortgage afterwards set aside—Mr. Carpenter agreed to that for the six months—in 1884, before this was discovered, I was very friendly with Emily, they had just come to live in Louvain Road then-when this legacy was carried to probate John Walton took my deeds, and got it carried through—he employed Mr. Rudd, a solicitor, of Liverpool, to do it; I never saw Mr. Rudd's bill—he returned me all my deeds—they were living at Liverpool then—Emily and Mrs. Smith, her sister, were staying at Louvain Road on a visit—they were not staying with me—I don't think Mrs. Smith was up in 1884—I received no letter from Somerset House in July, 1884—I received no intimation at all that succession duty had to be paid—I never in the presence of Mrs. Smith asked Emily to come to Somerset House; she did not go to Somerset House, come back, and tell me I had better consult a solicitor; I never heard anything about it—I never gave her my deeds to take to the solicitor to see after the succession duty—I did hand over the deeds to Emily at about that time—she said she wanted them for my brother to look at to refer to some tenant or something—I did not hand them to pass to Mr. Gillaume about the succession duty—I understood my brother had paid the succession duty before he handed
the deeds over to me; I put every confidence in him to do everything—I always expected he had paid it—I did not give the deeds for Mr. Gillaume to be consulted; I never heard the name before—I have heard Mr. Nettleton's name; I don't know him personally—I did not ask John to see Mr. Nettleton—Mr. Nettleton did not refer him to Mr. Gillaume—in 1884 £250 was raised, through Mr. Gillaume, on the deeds of the Overstein Road property; I had one house there and two houses at New Brighton—I did not know the £250 was raised on the Overstein Road property till Mr. Nettleton's clerk called and asked me if I knew Mr. Nettleton, and I said, "Not personally"—he asked me if I knew there was a loan on the house, and he mentioned Mr. Gillaume's name—I arranged to go next morning—my sister-in-law was with me at the time—I heard then, for the first time, that my sister-in-law had forged my name to this property at Overstein Road; I did not know it at the time—it was not for me to pay this money to Mr. Gillaume; I had not received it—I afterwards arranged another mortgage with Messers. Nutt and Savory, and signed a deed mortgaging the property to pay off Mr. Gillaume; that was when my sister-in-law came over, frightened, and begged of me to forgive her—I forgave her, and made myself answerable for the Overstein Road property—I executed another mortgage to pay off Mr. Gillaume, although I never authorised my sister-in-law to raise the money—I went with Mrs. Inwood and Mr. Potter to sign this mortgage deed—I will swear I did not turn to Mrs. Inwood and say, "Will you sign for me, Mrs. Inwood?"—I don't remember it—I don't remember Mr. Potter turning to me and saying, "No, Annie; you must sign for yourself"—I signed it myself—Mr. Potter was a great friend of our family—I don't know that Emily was entitled to one-seventh of £12,000; she told me they had a reversion, but I did not inquire what it was—Mrs. Walton, Mrs. Inwood, and Mrs. Ward are sisters, and they told me they had a reversion—I did not know the sum, but I heard it was a large one—Emily told me she had £400 a year—I did not know there was a mortgage of between £400 and £500 on the reversion to Mr. Rogerson—she did not ask me to raise and lend this money, as Rogerson was trying to foreclose the reversion, and she would lose it—the did not tell me that she had raised this £800 and paid Rogerson out of it, and left £150 in the Charing Cross Bank—I received no cheques from her—a friend named Williams introduced me to Miller and Miller—Emily gave me no cheques for Williams on the Charing Cross Bank—she did not give me a cheque for £10 for Williams in the presence of Mrs. Inwood—I did not take it to the bank and have it cashed—I have not been in the bank since my uncle's death—I never said laughingly that Carpenter asked me how Miss Walton was—I know nothing about the other £100 or £200—Emily did not request me in Mr. Forbes's presence to allow her to raise a further sum of £200 or £300 on my New Brighton property—Mr. Forbes did not say, "You had better give her that in writing," nor did he write this out in my presence—I did not sign it—it looks like my writing—I am sure I did not sign it—I only saw Mr. Smith once; I know a little of Mrs. Smith, not much—I remember being on a visit to Liverpool in August, 1885—I and Mrs. Hall called on the Smiths—we did not have tea with them; we were only about ten minutes in the house altogether—they asked about the Walton—I did not say, "Very well; Mrs. Walton has been in a little trouble over money matters, but it is all
right now; I helped her by getting a little money on the houses up the road"—that was the only time I saw Mr. Smith, I think—I did not know before July, 1887, that Mr. Carpenter was making some bother about the New Brighton property—the first intimation I had of the loan on that property was on 31st July—I was not trying to raise money from another person in order to pay off Mr. Carpenter—I did not ask my sister to do so—I did not authorise Emily and Mr. Potter to raise money from Mr. Martelli to pay off the loan on the property—I never heard of Mr. Martelli till came here—I never asked Mr. Potter to go and see Martelli—I don't remember writing such a letter as this; it is a mystery; I cannot understand it all—it looks like my writing. (This letter was read by MR. FÍLLAN, and was as follows;—"14, Overstein Road, Battersea. 14th. July, 1887. I hereby authorise Emily Walton to raise the amount required on the New Brighton deeds, and to further make use of my name for that purpose.—ANNIE WALTON")—I don't remember writing it—these letters are in my writing—I signed this Overstein Road property to Mr. Gillaume—I signed a deed on October 4th at Mr. Carpenter's, to allow them six months to replace the money—at the end of six months, when the first half-year's interest was asked for, I did not try to raise the money from other persons—I did not ask Mr. Potter to try—Mr. Williams then introduced me to Messers. Miller and Miller, and then I issued a writ to set aside this deed in May, 1888—Mr. In wood told me something about negotiations going on between May, 1888, and May, 1889, to settle the matter by raising money on my property—I did not agree to sign a mortgage for £800 to Mr. Carpenter; no appointment was made for me to sign it—I did not on the same morning say I would not—it was never arranged that I should sign a mortgage to Mr. Carpenter, or someone else, after the action was commenced; I never agreed to do so.
Cross-examined by MR. DUCA. My brother was secretary of the Battersea Liberal Association, and also a Battersea vestryman—he was away so often that I don't remember if he was away from London in the summer of 1884.
Re-examined. My sister has forged my name both as to the New Brighton property and as to the Overstein Road property, and when that matter came to my knowledge I executed on a subsequent occasion a mortgage with the intention of saving my sister from the consequences, and at her request—she begged me to forgive her, and I did, and made myself responsible for the debt—I executed the deed at Nutt and Savory's office; Mrs. Inwood was there—I signed my name—I did not ask Mrs. Inwood to sign for me—in October, 1887, I executed at Mr. Carpenter's office a deed, which was afterwards set aside by the Court of Chancery, to allow them six months to replace the money, and because Mr. Carpenter was going to sell the property—Mr. Potter asked me to execute the deed to give them time to replace the money—he was acting for Mrs. Inwood; he pretended to be a friend of mine.
JOHN TAYLOR . I am a solicitor of Great James Street, Bedford Row—I have acted for Mr. Carpenter at different times—in October, 1884; I acted for him in the matter of a loan—the female prisoner came to me about a loan—she gave her name as Annie Walton, the owner of the property—I had received the deeds and probate from Mr. Carpenter, and when she came she said, "I am the Annie Walton to whom this property
was devised"—I inquired into the deeds, and prepared the mortgage Mr. Carpenter told me we were to send the draft to Mr. Gillaume, of Salisbury Square, to approve on the prisoners' behalf—I did so, and Mr. Gillaume approved it—I was present in January, 1885, when the mortgage was signed by the prisoner as Annie Walton—when she had signed it I gave her the £800—I had received it from Mr. Carpenter for that purpose—I remember seeing the female prisoner about July, 1886—she wanted a further advance of £100—I attested her signature to the same deed, and gave her the £100—she signed as Annie Walton—on 1st February, 1886, another advance was made of £200, for which the prisoner signed in my presence, and I handed her the money, which I had received from Mr. Carpenter—that made up £1,100—on 3rd October, 1887, as I entered my office, I found there Mr. Carpenter, Mr. George Potter, my son, and Miss Walton, and I was then told of this forgery—I was then told to prepare a mortgage to secure the £1,100 to Mr. Carpenter, in place of the existing one that was executed by Miss Annie Walton—that mortgage was afterwards set aside.
MARY FARRELL . I have been in the service of Miss Annie Walton—I was in her service between January, 1885, and June, 1887—during that time I was sent by her to the prisoners' house for her deeds and papers—I saw Mr. Walton, and said that Miss Walton had sent me for her deeds and papers—he said he would send them over to her—I was continually going over for them—I did not always see John Walton—I saw Emily, and made the same request to her—she said she would tell her husband—I have seen them together, and have made the same request—when they were together I always got the same answer.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. I said at the Police-court that I could not remember the number of times; I said three or four times—I daresay I said before Mr. Justice Kekewich forty to fifty times; I daresay it would be about that—Miss Walton did not send me for money; only what Mrs. Walton had had from her; she has sent me for that; she said it was her own money—Mr. Miller was the first person who introduced me into this case about May, 1888—I saw Mrs. Walton two or three times before the trial before Mr. Justice Kekewich.
THOMAS GILLAUME . I am a solicitor, of Salisbury Square, Fleet Street—I first saw the female prisoner in August, 1884; she gave me the name of Miss Walton—she brought some papers from Somerset House; I looked into them; she requested me to pass the accounts and pay the succession duty and residuary account—subsequently I saw her again about a mortgage on some property in Overstein Road, and I lent her about £244 at different times, and she signed this deed in my presence, "Annie Walton"—I have since discovered the deed to be a forgery, and I communicated with the real Annie Walton, and she executed another deed, a genuine one—my money has been paid off by the real Miss Walton—my mortgage deed was put into the fire—before I discovered the first mortgage deed to be a forgery the female prisoner consulted me about other business—I first heard from the Charing Cross Bank that she intended to borrow from them £800 on the property—I sent my clerk to the solicitors to inspect the deeds before we approved the draft mortgage.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. When Emily Walton called on me in August, 1884, she told me that our client, Mr. Nettleton, had introduced
her to me; I had no letter from him—there had been a demand from Somerset House for the succession duty, and about £60 or £70 had to be paid—my costs came to about £20—I acted for her for three years—part of the loan of £250 was for the duty and my costs.
HARRIET INWOOD . I live at 15, Lethwaite Road, Clapham Common—the female is my sister—between October, 1884, and June, 1887, I was living with the two prisoners at their house in Louvain Road—about February, 1886, I had a conversation with the male prisoner about some papers—Miss Walton had several times told me that he had her deeds—I told him what she had said—he did not say anything at first—I afterwards told him other things that she had said, and he said he would go over to her; I said if ho was a man he would go and speak to her about it—later on I went with him to Miss Walton's house—first of all the servant said she was not at home—as we were leaving the door I heard Miss. Walton say, "Who is it, Mary?"—I said, "It is me; I have brought your brother"—she was in the kitchen, and we went in to her—I said, "Now, Miss Walton, your brother is here, tell him what you have said to me," and I turned to him, and said, "She is here; now tell what you have said about her"—she would not speak at first; she ran away into the back kitchen—she would not come out for some time—when she did come out she would not tell him what she had said; so I told him what she had said; in her presence I said, "She has called you a thief, a drunkard, and a liar, and that you have got her deeds and got money on them"—Mr. Walton and his wife and Miss Walton and a Mrs. Hughes, a lodger of Miss Walton's, wore present—Mr. Walton asked Miss Walton, "Have I cheated you, or robbed you of anything?"—she said, "I never said so"—I said, "Oh, Annie Walton, how can you stand there and say such a thing, when you have told me, not once, but twenty times, and you told not me alone, but other people"—she made no reply to that—Mr. Walton went on and said a great deal to her which I do not remember; it was all about what he had done for her, and he asked her had she not repeatedly got Mrs. Walton to do her dirty work for her, and he had often told her not to do it—she said nothing to that; she would not offer any explanation—he told her never to enter his house again, and then he went away—on a later occasion we were talking about the action in the Chancery Court, and a man named Rogerson said that he knew where the greater part of the money went—that was in answer to something I said; I can't remember what I had said—I said, "That is something to know"—that was all he said at the time—I was living with the prisoners the greater part of three years—I understood the male prisoner had an occupation all the time I was there; I understood he was writing for the Press, and he went out speaking at political meetings.
Cross-examined by MR. FILLAN. The first conversation I had with. Annie Walton about the deeds was in 1886, she said they had got her deeds and her papers, and would not deliver them up, and had got money on them—she said it more than once—she never told me that she had not got any of the money, I knew that she had money from Mrs. Walton repeatedly, but she never said anything about it—they were living opposite each other, and were on very affectionate terms—I remember some time in July, 1887, going to Messers. Nutt and Savory's office—Mr. Potter was present,
and Annie Walton—there was a deed for her to sign to replace the deed signed by Emily in her name for £250 from Mr. Gillaume—when the deed was produced Miss Walton turned to me and said, "Mrs. In wood, will you sign that paper for me?"—I felt rather startled at the time, and Mr. Totter said, "No, Annie, you sign yourself," and then she did—I asked her why she required me to do so, and she said she had a very had hand—she took off her glove and signed the paper, and there was nothing the matter with her hand—she said she had been scrubbing a floor, and had run some nails into her hand, which gave her a very bad hand, and that was the reason she asked me to sign the paper—she had told me she had met with such an accident, but did not tell me what it was—these letters (produced) are all Miss Walton's writing—also the signature to this letter.
Cross-examined by MR. DUC. I first went to stay with the prisoners in Louvain Road in July, 1884—I stayed a few days, and went back again in November—I knew that Mr. Walton was absent during that period, and went down to the North in July, and he called on me there, and took his little girl, and went to Hexham—he was there some time; I think to the end of the year—I think he came back in October or November, when Annie Walton accused him of borrowing money on the deeds he at once repudiated it, and expressed his indignation, and said, "You knew where they were"—the conversation about the forgeries was only a few weeks ago.
By MR. FILLAN. I remember on one occasion Emily giving Annie a cheque for £10 on the Charing Cross Bank—she said there was a friend of hers leaving one house and going to another, and that ho was a great nuisance to her—Í understood at first he was a relative of hers—that was Williams—on her returning from the bank she was laughing, and telling Mrs. Walton that someone had asked her how was Miss Walton—this was about March, 1885—I left in April.
Re-examined. I am quite sure that it was at Nutt and Savory's office that I saw the deed signed.
GEORGE POTTER . I am a publisher and author, and live at Clapham Common—I have known the prisoners over six years; I have not known the male prisoner have any occupation or means of livelihood; I know of his being connected with the Press—I was a friend of the prisoners as well as the prosecutrix—after the uncle's death, about seven years ago, I became acquainted with the prisoners; I met them first at the uncle's funeral—I have known Annie Walton twenty years—I bad known the uncle, Alfred Walton, quite thirty years; Annie was his housekeeper; ho left these houses to her, according to the will; I did not know how they were left—at the time of these disputes, as to the Overstein Road property, I was called in by the wish of Annie Walton, as a friend of the family—about August, 1887; she handed me a letter from Mr. Martelli—before that, in July, the Nutt and Savory business was done, the mortgage on the Overstein Road property—Mr. Gillaume wanted to call in his mortgage—Annie called at my house, and at my office also—she said Gillaume had called in the mortgage And was pressing for payment, and she wished another mortgage on the property, and asked if I
could aid in it; and I did—I was the means of introducing it; that was in August—Nutt and Savory surveyed the property, and were prepared to lend the money; and the mortgage deed was drawn up and executed—Annie Walton, Mrs. Inwood, and myself went to Nutt and Savory's to feign—when Annie was asked to sign she asked Mrs. Inwood to sign for her—I said, "Annie, you must sign for yourself"; and upon that she took off her glove and did sign—I did not notice anything wrong with her hand—mine was a friendly interference, strictly on her behalf—I never hoard anything about the original mortgage being raised without her authority, only that the one mortgage was to be raised to pay off another—about a fortnight afterwards, Annie came to me with a letter from Mr. Martelli, and said that he was pressing for payment, for something to be done about the Overstein property—she asked me to negotiate a new loan on the New Brighton property—that was in September, 1887—I received this letter from Martelli, in consequence of which I went to see him with Annie, by her wish—she had heard from her tenant that the property was up for sale, and she wished to know what it amounted to; and I was to go with her to Mr. Carpenter—I was present when she signed the new deed—it occurred in this manner Mr. Carpenter wanted the money, and ho arranged that the new deed should secure him an interest, payable at the end of six months—it was a voluntary friendly transaction altogether—I don't think she said exactly that she would give them six months' time to pay; she said time was asked for to repay it, and the interest was to be paid in six months—I then went away, thinking that everything had been amicably arranged; and I said I hoped they had buried all family scandals—about six months afterwards, I under-stood that Mr. Carpenter began pressing for his six months' interest—she did not at that time ask me to negotiate a further mortgage for her; she did later on, during the progress of the action, and we arranged a settlement—I got a person to lend the money—a deed was drawn up for £800 for the reversionary interest and the balance, and it was signed by the three sisters—an appointment was made the night before for her to sign it; but we had a letter from Mr. Miller saying that he would not allow his client to carry on any negotiation whatever, and the matter fell through—at that time there was a Chancery suit before Mr. Justice Kekewich, in which Mr. Carpenter was defendant—he had to lose the money and pay the costs—I have heard that all the prisoners' family had a reversionary interest in a large sum of money—I never heard the amount.
Re-examined. I could not say whether the reversionary interest of Mrs. Inwood and the female prisoner was already mortgaged for more than it was worth; I did not go into the family matters—at the signing of this mortgage deed the agreement was that the interest should be for six months—that was all that was said about it.
JAMES SCANDRETH (Police Sergeant E). About eleven o'clock on 30th December, 1889, I arrested the male prisoner at Liverpool on a warrant charging him with forging a deed of mortgage—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Yes; all right. I know all about it, but I had nothing to do with it"—I took him to London—I have made inquiries where he lived in Louvain Road—it was a house of £45 a year.
Witness for the Defence.
near Liverpool—at the end of July, 1884,1 was staying with the prisoners at Louvain Road—Emily Walton was on very friendly terms indeed with Annie Walton—they lived near together—John Walton went to the North, and while he was away I went with Emily to Somerset House, and waited outside while she went in—on our return we went to Mrs. Walton's, and Annie said, "How did you get on, Emily?"—I did not hear the answer—I paw Miss Walton bring a small brown paper parcel and put it, on the table—I heard no conversation about it—in August, 1885, Annie Walton was on a visit to Liverpool—she had tea in our house—I asked her how the Waltons were getting on—she said, "They are all right now; Emily has been in some difficulty about money matters, but I have helped her out by getting money on the houses up the road" that meant Belmont Road, New Brighton—I and my sisters are entitled to some property at my mother's death—I could not say how much; over £2,000, I think; something like that.
Cross-examined by MR. DUCA. I stayed with Mrs. Walton from the end of July to the beginning of December, I think, 1884—all that time John Walton was in the North.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. The conversation between me and Annie as, to how the Waltons were getting on was in 1885, at my own house—I have mortgaged the seventh share I have in the reversion—I don't know if Emily has mortgaged her share.
HUGH FORBES . I am a grocer's assistant, at Chester—my wife is a sister of Emily Walton—the signature to this paper (This authorised Emily Walton to get the value of freehold property at New "Brighton, namely, £300 on Miss Annie Walton's deeds) is in Miss Annie Walton's writing—I saw it signed—I wrote the body of it in January, 1886—I heard a conversation between Mrs. and Miss Walton in their house in Louvain Road about money matters; shortly afterwards I and my wife visited Miss Walton at 14. Overstein Road, and at Annie's request this note was written; she said Emily was in want of money, and she would do what she possibly could to help her to get £300 raised on her New Brighton property, and accordingly I drew up this paper; she said nothing else to me—I drew up the paper, and she signed it, and I left it with her—before that I heard them having a conversation about money matters—I do not remember what it was about—I had nothing to do with it.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. This paper was signed in January, 1886—I did not know at that time there had been some trouble between Annie and Emily about money matters—I did not gather from the conversation I heard that there had been trouble about money matters—I gathered so much from it as induced me to draw up the paper—it was in consequence of the conversation that I drew it up—it did not strike me that an important document like this ought to have a date to it—I never saw it after I wrote it till last week—it might have been an important document—I did not think so at the moment; it was drawn up in a hurry—I drew it up—I have borrowed money from John Walton—I received this cheque for £60 in 1884 from him as a loan to me and my then partner—I have not paid any of it back—I received this cheque for seventeen guineas from him—it was made out to me, but I believe it was for Mr. Rudd, solicitor, of Liverpool—I have never received any other money from John Walton.
By the COURT. I drew up this paper because Annie asked me to do so,
and suggested if I drew it up she would sign it—I think I have told you all that passed between us—I was not aware it authorised a person who was not the owner of the property to raise money on property, the deeds being the property of someone else—I drew up the paper with Miss-Walton's authority; she requested me to do it; I think I have told you all that passed between us—I suppose she read it, and signed it; she did read it, not aloud—she looked at it, and by her motions I supposed she read it—I did not know there had been any family quarrel—I first knew that about twelve months afterwards; I did not keep the paper, she did; I left it with her—I am not a lawyer.
CATHERINE FORBES . I was present and saw this document written—my husband wrote the body of it, and Miss Walton signed it—before that she said something to the effect that she was sorry the Waltons were in difficulties, and she would help them.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. My husband read it out loud to Miss Walton before she signed it—I did not notice if she read it afterwards—a short time before this, I think, I heard a conversation in Miss Walton's house about money matters—I don't remember any conversation between my husband and Emily Walton about this matter—I heard no suggestion except from Miss Walton, that my husband should draw up the letter—I know she said some words of request; I don't know what they were exactly—Annie Walton must have seen the paper; it was left there—I don't know if she read it over before she signed it—I did not think then it would be of any consequence—I am sure my husband did not take the paper away; it was left behind there—I am not sure it was—I have a reversionary interest under my mother's property—I have mortgaged that to Hicks and Arnold—I don't know that they are now sueing my husband in respect of that.
Re-examined. I did not pay much attention to conversation going on while my husband was writing this paper—I had nothing to do with it—I remember it being written—this is Annie Walton's signature; I saw it written.
JOHN WALTON, GUILTY, as an accessory before and after the fact— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
EMILY WALTON, GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 3rd, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALICE STONE . My husband is a grocer, of Leopold Terrace, Stamford Hill—on January 30th, shortly before 5 p.m., the prisoner came in for two pennyworth of cheese and one pennyworth of bread—I served him—he said, "You have given me too much bread," and then he asked me the way to the tram—I directed him—he gave me a florin; I laid it on the counter while I took the change out of my pocket, and gave it to him—he left the shop, and went in the opposite direction to what I had told him—the coin did not sound amiss, but I found it was bad—I knocked on the wall for Mr. Gerkin, who lives next door—Mrs. Gerkin came, and
I handed the coin to her; she took it away, and brought it back to me—I had not marked it—I went out after the prisoner—Mr. Gerkin joined me, and we saw the prisoner, with another man, at the end of Woodville Grove—we obtained the assistance of Bird, a policeman, and followed them into Stonebridge Road, where the prisoner put his right hand into his pocket, and took something out, and threw it over the timber-yard, which is at the side of the road—I was present when he was taken in custody, and went to the station and charged him—he said to me, "Will you take double the value?"—I made no answer—after Mrs. Gerkin gave the coin back to me I kept it in my hand till I gave it to the constable.
WILLIAM GERKIN . I am an engineer, of 2, Leopold Terrace, Stamford Hill, adjoining Mr. Stone's shop—on 30th January I heard a knocking between the two houses, and my wife went to Mrs. Stone and brought back a counterfeit florin—I believe this to be it, but cannot swear to it; I gave it back to her, and she went out with it—I then went out and joined Mrs. Stone in the Braemar Road, I went with her to another road and saw the prisoner and another man walking along gently—I kept them in sight while Mrs. Stone went back to find a constable—they stood under the railway arch, and I stood watching them—a constable took the prisoner, and I took the other man—Mrs. Stone said to the prisoner, "You are the man who gave me the coin"—he said, "I did not," and said he had never seen her before—the prosecutrix said to the prisoner, "What have you thrown away?"—he said, "I have thrown nothing away"—I then let the other man go, and jumped over into the timber yarn and made a search, but found nothing—the other man had gone when I came back; it was a wooden fence about four feet six inches high.
SUSANNAH GERKIN . I am the wife of the last witness—on January 30th, a little before 5 2 p.m., I was with him in our house, and heard a tapping at the wall—I went into Mrs. Stone's shop, she handed me a florin, which I took to my husband, who examined it, and I then took it back and gave-it to Mrs. Stone.
WILLIAM DONHAM . I live with my parents at 21, Highweek Road, Tottenham—on 3rd February I was playing in the back yard of No. 22, which is unoccupied and adjoins the timber-yard, and picked up this florin, I tried it with my teeth, they sank in it, and I thought it was bad—I took it to Mrs. Hayward, who keeps a grocer's shop in Stonebridge Road—she did not return it to me.
WILLIAM BIRD (Policeman N 94). On January 30th, about 5. 15, I was on duty in the Seven Sisters Road, and Mrs. Stone pointed out the prisoner and another man under the railway arch—we followed them twenty or thirty yards behind—I do not know whether the prisoner saw us, but he threw something in the direction of the timber-yard, which was on his left; that adjoins 22, Highweek Road—I ran and took him at once, and Mr. Gerkin took the other man—I said, "I shall take you in custody for passing a counterfeit florin"—lie said, "I know nothing about it"—I spoke about something being thrown away; he said, "I did not throw anything away"—I searched him on the spot, but found nothing—he was searched again at the station, and I found this form. (A police supervision ticket.)—he said to Mrs. Stone,
"Will you take double the value of the coin?"—after his committal for trial he was taken into the waiting-room, and said, "If you had got the other man it would be a good job, as he had eighteen more florins in his possession, the same as this"—he said that he got the coin he paid to Mrs. Stone from Dutton, the man with him, and he had given Button the 1s. 9d. change—I searched the timber-yard next day, but found nothing, it was 4 p.m., and the light was fading—it is fifteen or twenty yards from where I saw the movement of his hand to where the coin was found—I received this coin from Mrs. Stone—the coin Day has identified was forwarded to mo by Brown, a constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, Several other prisoners were there when you said that if I had the other man it would have been a good job—I did not tell the Magistrate that, because you were committed then.
CHARLES DYER (Police Inspector). After the remand on this charge I received a communication from the prisoner, and went to him on February 6th, and he made a statement to me respecting the man in whose company he was on 30th January, when he was arrested—he said, "He gave me the two coins to pass."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he met a man who owed him 15s. who offered him some bread and cheese, and sent him into the shop with the florin; and he got the change and gave it to the man, who gave him a second coin, hut finding they were watched, said, "Throw it away, it is bad," which he did. He contended that if he had known they were bad he would not have been likely to carry them, with a convict's licence in his pocket.
GUILTY**.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
228. GEORGE THOMAS DODD (27) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image], to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post-letter containing sixty postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Eighteeen Months' Hard Labour.
229. ALFRED WILLIAM STRICKLAND (21) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to four indictments for stealing, while employed under the Post Office, four letters containing postal-orders and stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Post-master-General. He received a good character.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
230. EDWARD JEFFRIES POINTON (40) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a letter containing a half-crown, a florin, one shilling, and two sixpences, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
231. ALFRED HARRY HORRINGDALE (25) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to three indictments for stealing, while employed in the Post Office, three letters containing postal-orders, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. And
232. ROBERT GREENFIELD** (23) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , to three indictments for forging and uttering receipts for 10s., £1, and £2 10s., having been convicted of felony at this Court on February 27, 1888.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 4th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
233. JAMES DAVIS (40) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of James Chapman, and stealing two jackets value 30s., after a previous conviction in 1887; also to other indictments for house-breaking.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
234. JOHN TWYHER (42) PLEADED GUILTY , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of John Goodworth, and stealing a clock and other articles, and to a previous conviction in 1886**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GRAIN and BIRON Defended.
HANS SCHARIEN . I am a builder, of 12, Trafalgar Square, Chelsea—I had another business as a house and estate agent, at 3, Gloucester Terrace, with which I had a communication by telephone—I employed the prisoner from March, 1887, to May, 1888, at a salary of 30s. a week and 5 per cent, commission on the business earned on at 3, Gloucester Terrace—his duties were to attend to the house agency business there alone; he had the sole charge there, with only an office boy—I lived in the house, and was there every day to see how the business was going on—his duty was to attend to any people that called, to account for any money he received, and give a receipt for it—if it belonged to the building department he would simply hand it over; if it was in the house agency department he would enter it in a cash-book which he kept for the purpose—if he received a cheque his duty was to hand it over tome, and enter it in the books—in May, 1888, his salary was raised to £2 a week, with commission, and he continued in my service down to September, 1888—in that month some matters arose between us as to a cheque for £42—in consequence of that I saw the prisoner at the office, and in the presence of Mr. Glazier, my solicitor, I then told him that whatever he did never to touch any cheques or write on them, but hand them over at once to me—he promised faithfully that he would never do anything of the kind—a Mr. Watson and Mr. West, executors of a Mr. Matheson, were clients of mine—I acted as agent and surveyor on their behalf as to part of the estate at Highgate—MESSRS. Southgate, builders, were employed upon it—I did not personally attend to that matter; the prisoner did—he surveyed the premises—he always reported to me what ho had done—he would record it in a journal, and I should see it from time to time—I took part in that, fixing the charges that were to be made—when the work was completed I directed the prisoner to make out the bill—it amounted to £13 12s. 9d.—he made it out under my direction, and I told him to send it in to Mr. Priestley, the accountant for the executors—I have never been paid that amount, or any money at all, from the prisoner in reference to that transaction—there was some correspondence with Mr. Priestley about it, in the prisoner's writing—this (produced) is the account in the prisoner's writing, and this receipt for
£10 is his—I had no knowledge of that £10 having been paid—I had an action pending in the Barnet County Court about that time, in which I was plaintiff—it was necessary to my case that the prisoner should give evidence—I instructed him to go to the Barnet County Court for that purpose—I do not remember the exact date that he went; it was somewhere about the 13th or 14th February; he did not return—from certain matters that came to my knowledge, I instructed Mr. Sorrell, my manager, to make inquiries among my clients in the house agency and estate business, and from that I came into communication with Mr. Priestley, and learnt that a cheque for £10 had been paid to the prisoner, and on 23rd February I gave him into custody; he was remanded for a week, admitted to bail, and on the remand on 4th March he failed to appear—I next saw him on 24th January this year, in custody of Detective Church—he was then brought up again on this charge, remanded from time to time, and then committed—the entry in this book (produced) is the account of the work done at Highgate; it is in the prisoner's handwriting—I never gave him authority to receive £10 in discharge of the £1312s. 9d., or to sign the name of H. Scharien and Co. on the back of the cheque.
Cross-examined, I am a builder, not an architect or surveyor—I carried on business as a builder with a partner, and failed; after that I carried on business at Gloucester Terrace as a house agency—this account was a surveyor's matter—I do not know Mr. Southgate; I did nothing in it beyond discussing the matter with the prisoner; I paid his expenses from week to week, and his salary from eight to ten weeks—I superintended the matter personally; I did not go to the works—the prisoner had 5 per cent, commission; I have not paid that, I don't know what that would amount to—he would not be entitled to deduct it from the £10 he received—he was not allowed to sign or endorse cheques; he had done so once, with a cheque for £42, and I had reprimanded him for it, and he promised not to do so again, and I forgave him—I had an account with a branch of the South-Western Bank close by—I did not pay the prisoner extra for surveying, I paid him his travelling expenses and money out of pocket—I had an apprentice with whom I received a premium of £50; after six or nine months he bolted; the prisoner was not to have any share of that premium—I did not speak to the prisoner about receiving this £10, I did not know that he had received it—I had spoken to him about the account, and told him to write for it—he made out the account for £10 12s., and I told him to make it for £13 12s. 9d. upon going over it—he had no authority to receive the £10.
JOSEPH PRIESTLEY . I am a chartered accountant, of 97, Cheapside—I acted as accountant to the estate of the late Mr. Matheson—in the course of this agency I received this account for £13 12s. 9d. from Mr. Scharien—on 4th February the prisoner called for a settlement—he had called before and said he would come again—I thought the account was too much, and I arranged with him to settle it for £10, and I handed him this crossed cheque on the London Joint Stock Bank, and he endorsed it in my presence, "Scharien and Co."—he asked me to exchange it for an open cheque—accordingly I drew a cheque for £10 on the Bank of England, payable to H. Scharien and Co.—I don't remember seeing the prisoner endorse it—it appears to be written with a different pen; he receipted the bill and I gave him the cheque—it has passed through the bank.
Cross-examined. The account was stamped as it is now, "Scharien and Co. "in magenta ink—I only knew the prisoner by his having called once before in my absence, I had nothing to do with either party, except to settle the bill.
FREDERICK: JOHNSON . I am in the drawing office of the Bank of England—I produce the pay-book for February, 1889—there is in it an entry of a cheque for £10 of Mr. Priestley, 97, Cheapside, paid on 4th February, over the counter in coin—I cannot swear to the prisoner.
EDITH BRENTLEY . I live at 12, Milburn Grove—I know the prisoner as having let me that house—I am acquainted with his writing—on 5th March I received this letter from him. (This enclosed the agreement, and added—"I do not intend to appear at the Court, and should feel grateful if you can send me sufficient cash to get out of the way. Please send it to my wife, and treat this as confidential. I want to go away to a great distance at once")—I did not send him any money.
Cross-examined. I knew nothing of him or his wife—I cannot account for his writing me such a letter—I only saw him about the house—I did not see Mr. Scharien in the matter.
FREDERICK CHURCH (Detective B). On Saturday, 23rd February, I went with Mr. Scharien to East Road, Wandsworth, and took the prisoner into custody for embezzling £10—he said, "Pray don't do it, sir; have mercy, for my wife's sake"—on the way to the station he said, "Part of the money belonged to me, but I know I was wrong in taking it"—when he was formally charged he said, "I did not abscond; I was at Mr. Scharien's offices on Thursday last, and I attended Barnet County Court in a case in which he was plaintiff"—I searched him, and found on him two bills of exchange, forty-three pawnbrokers' duplicates, and 23s. 6d. in money—on 25th he was charged with forging the endorsement on the cheque—he said, "I thought that was the charge on Saturday night"—he was remanded on bail until the 5th of March—on that day he was called, and did not appear, and the recognisances of himself and his surety were estreated—I made inquiries for him, and on 24th January this year found him in the custody of the Ramsgate Police—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I am very sorry I went away, but I was in great trouble at the time"—I know that his wife had been recently confined.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
239. THOMAS GLOYNES (21) PLEADED GUILTY , To being in the dwelling-house of Alfred John Abrahams, aid stealing two bottles of wine, other articles, and tenpence, and burglariously breaking out.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
240. ARTHUR ANDREWS (31) and EDWARD BAXTER (27) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , To burglary in the dwelling-house of Alexander Robertson Hardie, and stealing two coats therein; also, to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles De Norval, with intent to Steal therein.
ANDREWS also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in November, 1885, at Chelmsford, and to another burglary in the dwelling-house, and stealing therein.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
BAXTER— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 5th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
241. HENRY CLARKE (17) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing an order for the payment of £8 8s. of the Gas Light and Coke Company, his masters; also to forging and uttering the said cheque.— Twelve Month's Hard Labour.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, MR. RICHARDS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WATSON . I am a carman, in the employment of Frederick Woodroof, of 54, Crutched Friars—on 7th February I was delivering tea with a van, and went to Herbert's, a tea merchant, to deliver three cases—I went in and gave my notice to the manager there; came out and carried in one chest, leaving two half-chests in the van—when I came out one half-chest was gone—I carried in the remaining one as soon as I could, and then coming out I ran down Ludgate Hill, and I saw the prisoner walking across Ludgate Circus, in the direction of Fleet Street, with a half-chest of tea in his arms—I stopped him and asked him where he had got it from; he immediately dropped it, and attempted to run away—I left the tea, and went after him, and stopped him—he said, "A man asked me to carry it for him"—a constable came up and I give him in charge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say a man gave it to you at the corner of Fleet Street.
PHILIP SPARE (Policeman 490 City). A little after seven, on 7th February, I saw the prisoner standing in Ludgate Circus; Watson had hold of his arm, and gave him into my custody—the prisoner said, "A man has given it to me to carry"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I was about ten yards off when I saw you—you were about five yards from the box you had dropped.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, send a man had given him the box to carry, and that he did not know it was stolen.
HELEN DONOVAN . I live at 126, Regent's Park Road, and am assistant to Michael Beahan, a dairyman there—on Wednesday night, 7th February, I locked up the house, and went to bed about ten o'clock—the shop and parlour doors were shut and bolted—about twenty minutes to five in the morning I came down, and found the doors open, and the place
very much disturbed—I found the till on the counter, and the bowls taken out, and the box of the tills on the slab by the side of the desk—I missed nothing—I had seen the prisoner in the neighbourhood.
DENNIS NICHOLS . I am Mr. Beahan's foreman, at 126, Regent's Park Road—on this Thursday morning in February I came down and saw a fire in the front parlour and the gas burning—the parlour and shop doors were open—some sausages were frying in the parlour; they had not been there the night before—I called a constable—I found someone had got in through the closet window—the wire netting, which covered the whole of that window, was torn off—there was room for a man to get through, and then he could get into any part of the house—the shop door opened from inside—I missed my overcoat, which had been laid on the copper, and Mr. Beahan's axe—I have not seen my overcoat since.
THOMAS KELLAWAY (Inspector S). I examined 126, Regent's Park Road on the morning of the 6th—I found entry had been effected through the closet window by forcing iron network from the outside—I went, to 12, Rothwell Street on the morning of the 8th—I found there, on a box in the front kitchen, this axe, and an odd boot and sock under the table—I afterwards took the axe to 126, Regent's Park Road, where it was identified—I took the boot and sock to the station, and they were kept there—Nursey showed them to the prisoner.
ALFRED JAMES CORDER . I live at 12, Bothwell Street, and am a traveller—between the night of the 7th and morning of 8th February my house was broken into—I went to bed about 10 on the 7th, and on morning of 8th I was disturbed by a noise, and when I came down I found the kitchen upset, and the kitchen drawers ransacked, and all the house in confusion—entry had been made by the w. c. window which was open—I missed a pair of trousers, these boots, this muffler, and these three socks—they were all safe in my house on the night before—I saw an axe which had not been in my house the night before.
EDWARD PARSONS (Detective Constable). On 9th February I went with Nursey to 124, Begent's Park Road, an unoccupied house next door to 126—we examined the house, and found the prisoner concealed in a small cupboard beneath the stairs on the ground floor at 3.30 a.m.—I asked him what he was doing there; he made no reply—I told him then I should take him into custody on suspicion of committing several burglaries in the vicinity—he made no reply—I searched the empty house—there was no furniture there.
EDWARD NURSEY (Sergeant S). I was in Parson's company when the prisoner was apprehended—I assisted to convey him to the station—on the way I noticed he walked lame—I said, "You walk lame"—he said, "Yes, I hurt my leg when they were after me last night; I jumped from the leads, and fell all of a heap"—I searched him at the station, and found he was wearing this boot, this silk muffler, and this pair of cuffs, and also three socks, marked "W. S."—when he was charged I showed him an odd sock and a boot which corresponded with one he was wearing—he claimed the sock and boot—they had been found in the other house.
The Prisoner then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony in July 1888, at this Court. There was another indictment against the prisoner for the burglary in the house in Regent's Park Road.— Five Years' Penal servitude.
ROSE BENJAMIN . I am a shop assistant at 206, Commercial Road, Stepney—Mrs. Markham, the prisoner's wife, manages the shop—between half-past six and quarter to seven on the evening of 12th February, I was in the shop—Mrs. Markham was in the yard—the prisoner was in the road opposite the shop, and he could look into the shop and see me—when I looked across the road he lifted his hand with a revolver in it, and pointed it towards me; I was in the shop—I then went to the yard at the back, and told his wife not to come in—I had seen the prisoner before—he had come to the shop before, and made disturbances and threats about his wife.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It was between the lights—you were sitting on a barrow; I did not see you pull the revolver out of your pocket—I am sure you pointed it at me—you had no malice to me, and did not intend to do me mischief.
DANIEL JOHNSON . I am a dealer at 9, Fore Street, Bromley—at a quarter to seven on 12th February I was in Crisp Street—I was called to the prisoner, and was told he had a loaded revolver in his pocket; I asked three men to assist me in taking it away; they would not—I went up to him; he was sitting on a barrow, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled a revolver out as I went up; he held it in his hand; he did not point it at anybody; I wrenched it from him—he said, "Give me my revolver back, I will do for my wife"—this was not the beginning of the affair that I saw, but afterwards—I must have seen him when he took it out the second time; I don't know if it was the first, second, or third time—I have told all I saw—when I took the revolver from the prisoner he was about seven yards from the shop—Bose Benjamin was in the shop when I took the revolver—I told her to keep back—I gave the revolver to a constable.
DAVID GILL (Policeman K 219). On 12th February I was called to this shop—I took the revolver from Johnson—I told the prisoner, who was sitting on a barrow, that he would have to answer for the possession of the revolver—at the station he said, "Take me where you like, my life is a misery to me; she will not let my child see me; I bought the revolver with the intention of shooting her, and should have done so if it had not been taken away from me"—four of the six chambers of the revolver were loaded; the other two had in them empty cartridge cases—the prisoner said he had fired them off to see how they would act—I produce the revolver and cartridges.
CHARLES OCTAVIUS BIRCHAM . I live at 124, High Street, Poplar, and am a gun maker—the prisoner bought a revolver and six cartridges at my shop on the morning of the 12th February—this revolver answers the description of the one he bought—no doubt it is the same.
GEORGE KING (Police Inspector K). I took the charge when the prisoner was brought to the station—he was charged with presenting a loaded revolver at Rose Benjamin, supposed to be with intent to do grievous bodily harm—previous to the charge being taken the prisoner said, "I might as well go to the gallows as lead this life; I meant to shoot her" (he meant his wife, who was in the charge-room at the time), "and I by well will before I have done"—I took the charge, and
read it to him—he said, "It is false; I don't know the girl; why should I do her any harm?"—the revolver was loaded in four chambers with ball cartridge.
The RECORDER considered that no assault on Rose Benjamin had been proved.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 4th, and Wednesday, March 5th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted, MR. KEITH FRITH appeared for Caplon, MR. FRAZER for Yankel, and MR. SANDS For Fulman.
HENRY "WALTER . I am sub-postmaster at Hadleigh, Hertfordshire—on December 12th or 13th the post-office was broken into and twenty three postal orders were stolen—one of them was for 2s., and numbered 69,377—it had no stamp on it—this stamp, "High Street, Whitechapel," was not on it then—we make a note of every order issued, and this was unissued.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have a book in which I keep the orders I issue, but it is not here—I always make up the official register; I have no assistant—there is nothing on the order to warn the public—there is no stamp or water-mark—an order may go through 1,000 hands, provided it is presented within three months after it is issued—I might have taken it as genuine—I am in business, and have been paid by postal orders; it is not uncommon—persons who have taken them in good faith have brought them to me, and I have cashed them—they are a legal tender—I have no right to refuse them—I have servants in my house, and my wife and my niece have access to the orders.
Re-examined. This is not the signature of my wife or my niece—I have no one in my employment named G. Dray, or anyone who writes like this.
FREDERICK SMITH . I am superintendent of the Postal Branch, Somerset House—I produce two requisition forms for postal orders from the sub-post office, St. John's Common, Burgess Hill, Sussex—these are the numbers of the orders sent on 30th October and 21st December.
EBENEZER AUSTIN . I am sub-postmaster at St. John's Wood Common, Burgess Hill—on the night of January 22nd a burglary was committed at the post-office, and a considerable number of postal orders stolen, the total was just under £64—I signed these requisition forms and sent them to Somerset House, and received these numbers and checked them—these five orders were stolen: 290,490, for 20s.; 351,762, for 10s. 6d.; 351,765, for 10s. 6d.; 351,768, for 10s. 6d.; and 351,770, for 10s. 6d.; also these twenty-one orders: 326,356, 326,359, 183,721, 183,72526-27, 776,217-18, 136,067, 618,916, 618,913, 618,911, 556,057-59, 136,069, 183,723, 326,755, 183,729, 486,479, and 618,920.
Cross-examined. I have assistants—my clerk fills up orders, and I sign the application forms—he has a right to sell them—he is not here—he keeps the official register, which is here—the application forms are not here—I have a record of the orders issued, assuming that he keeps it
correctly—I saw these orders come in—the clerk locks them up every night—I had seen them safe; it may be a week before.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. The stamp is not very distinct on the half-guinea order 351,768; that often happens—there is nothing to lead me to the belief that it was forged.
Re-examined. The whole of the orders I possessed were stolen—as each order is issued it is entered in this book—we took stock of the orders every night—I have no one named Dray in my employment.
By the JURY. I did not take stock of the orders on the night of the burglary—I sleep on the premises—the entry was effected by breaking a window—the orders were in a desk under lock and key.
SOLOMON GOLDSTEIN . I am a tailor's presser, of 7, Bernard Street, Commercial Road—I have known Fulman eighteen months as Itchka—I also know Caplon—one Sunday in January, about 8.30,1 met them both in the Commercial Road, and Itchka asked me if I could do a favour for him—I asked him what favour I could do—he said, "Call on Monday morning in New Road, Camber well, Post-office;" he spoke in Hebrew—Caplon said nothing—I am a Russian—on the Monday morning at nine o'clock I went to the New Road Post-office, and saw Itchta and Caplon together—Itchka said, "Come on," and we three went together opposite Whitechapel Church; Itchka asked me if I wanted a glass of drink—we all three went into a public-house, and Itchka treated me to half a quartern of Irish, and took out 5s. 1d., pointed with his finger to the post-office opposite the church, and said, "Go inside, and take me a postal order for 5s. 1d."—I said, "Why don't you go yourself?"—he said, "I can't speak English"—all this was said in Hebrew—I got the order at the post-office; Miss Dray served me—I brought it out—Caplon took it in his hand, and said in Hebrew, "Here is fine writing," and asked if I could do the same signature—I said, "I am not a good scholar; I cannot read and write," meaning that I could not read and write English—three days afterwards Itchka came to my place—I said, "What do you want?"—he said, "Can you recommend me a girl to get married to?"—I said, "I know very well you cannot support a wife"—he said, "Go away, I have plenty of money in my pocket," and took out some postal orders from his breast pocket, and showed them to me; it was a wonder to me, and I went down and said to Caplon, "The fellow has got such a lot of money"—Caplon then took out some postal orders from his breast pocket, showed them to me, and said, "That is the same postal order which I was changing by the same lady"—I went to King Edward Station and saw the Inspector—Itchka had a beard, but he paid a barber half-a-crown to take it off—I saw it done one Saturday at 51, Leopold Street.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I worked at 11, Warwick Street—I got the sack—I work now at 78, Kelly Street, for Mr. Alexander—I was out of work two days between the two places—the prisoners are Poles—I do not know that Russians are sent over here to watch the Poles—I do not know what a spy is—I saw Caplon several times at 78, Commercial Road, where people are allowed to go and read the papers—I met him in the Mission-room, but never had friendly conversation with him—he never asked me to do any thing for him before—he did not speak any English to me—I can read
and write Hebrew—I have been in England twelve years—he asked me if I could do the signature; I knew that that would be wrong, and after that I left them, and went home about 10.30; three days after that Fulman came to my place—Caplon waited downstairs for Itchka, and then he took out the orders—after one of them was locked up I made up my mind to speak to the police; I was not afraid of getting into any trouble, because I had done no harm—I went three times to Shadwell Station—I lost my situation through that—I did not get any money, nor have I been promised any.
By the JURY. I went to the police because these persons were locked up for stealing postal orders, and said that this man gave me 5s. 1d. to go and buy a postal order—I have never borrowed money of any of the prisoners, and I had never drank with them before.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I met Itchka on a Sunday in January—I do not know what Sunday—I know him by his going about with a barrow—three days after that Sunday Itchka came to my house at 9 p.m.—he had never been there before, but I saw him several times at my brother's—he had never before asked me to find him a girl to get mar ried—I am in the habit of finding respectable girls as wives for respectable people—I find respectable girls for people to go out with—I have done that a few times; I began to do it about two years ago—that is not my profession, I am a tailor; but if I know any country girl I could marry her—about twenty-five people saw Itchka with the Post Office order—the barber is one—he is not here, but I know him—Itchka said in Hebrew, "I have got a lot of postal orders"—he said, "Geld"—I did not ask him where he got them or how—I went below, and Caplon was waiting—I did not tell him the name of a girl; I told him I had not one on my books—I did not try to find one for him—Mrs. Jacobs and other persons live in my house—Mrs. Jacobs is not here nor was she at the Police court—I was sitting in the barber's shop when Itchka came in, the shop was not full, but it got full afterwards; it will hold twenty five people—he took the half-crown from his trousers pocket, and the postal orders from his breast pocket—Hyman was one of the persons in the shop—I did not tell the Inspector that I saw Itchka have his beard taken off, but I told the Magistrate so at Arbour Square, and also that I saw him show the postal orders in the barber's shop, but I did not say that Mr. Hyman was there—I went to the Inspector the day after the man was locked up; I do not know what day it was—I know that Itchka was locked up for stealing postal orders, and I went to the Inspector and told him the man gave me money to get a postal order.
By the COURT. I do not charge anything for introducing people to each other to be married, but if I meet with a respectable man I recommend him a girl.
ALFRED LLOYD . I keep a chandler's shop at 16, Copley Street, Stepney—just before Christmas, Caplon brought me postal order 619,977, for 3s., to change, and I changed it—it bears my signature, but he offered me another order for 15s., and one for 10s. 6d., which I refused to change—I understood what he said.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have often changed orders, but not for a party I did not know—this was about six p.m.; I took very great notice of the man, he being a stranger—I have not seen many Polish Jews in my time—he was not put with other men for me to pick out; I
saw him with the two other prisoners in the dock at the Police-court; I knew the postal order case was on, and I fixed on this one as the man who came into my shop—I had given a description of him.
Re-examined, I have not the slightest doubt Caplon is the man.
GEORGE HYAMS . My father keeps the Crown and Leek, Dean Street, Mile End—on 23rd January, about ten p.m., I saw Yankel there with another man, I am not certain whether it was Fulman—my father showed me a postal order, and said that Yankel gave it to him; he gave it back; they remained five minutes, and then went out, and I followed them, and saw Yankel go into twenty or thirty shops, waiting a little time in each, the man who I believe to be Fulman stopping outside, and on some occasions Yankel passed goods to him—I saw them go into Mr. Keil's shop and Mrs. Harris's shop, when I lost sight of them, after following them an hour and a half or two hours.
Cross-examined by MR. FRAZER. There were twenty or thirty people in my father's house—I had never seen Yankel before—I afterwards identified him from a lot at the back of the Police-court—I followed them because I suspected this postal order being wrong—I can name several of the shops they went into—I told every constable I met, and gave the names of two or three shops to each constable—I showed twenty or thirty different shops to different constables—I was sometimes twenty yards from them, and sometimes five.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. Dean Street is about half a mile from Bernard Street, Commercial Road—Polish Jews do not use the house—they remained two or three minutes, and mixed with the crowd—they had nothing to drink.
Re-examined. My attention was attracted because we had information about the stolen post office orders—Polish Jews have their favourite houses.
HENRY KEIL . I am a baker, of 5, Nottingham Street, Bethnal Green Road—this order for 10s. 6d., 351,070, has my signature on it—Yankel brought it in on Thursday evening, 23rd January, about 10.45—he bought a quartern of bread—I gave him the change, and sent the order to my bank the following Saturday—Yankel spoke English.
Cross-examined by MR. FRAZER. Yankel looks very much the same; I will not take my oath to him; I said before "to the best of my belief."
DEBORAH HARRIS . I am the wife of Abraham Harris, a grocer, of 95, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields—one Thursday night in January Yankel came in and asked me if I would change him a postal order, and he would take some tea or coffee—I told him to wait, as I had several customers, and when I went to him be said, "Never mind the tea and coffee, I will have a tin of salmon and a pound of loaf sugar"—he gave me the twenty-shilling order, and I gave him 19s. 2 1/4 d. change—he spoke in Hebrew; I am a Jewess—I gave the order to Inspector Quinn.
Cross-examined by MR. FRAZER. The man I say was Yankel was only a few minutes in the shop—I cannot say for certain that he is the man, but he is much like him.
JACOBOWITZ YACOBERY . I am the wife of Yasson Yacobery, of 98, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields—I was in Mrs. Harris's shop on a Tuesday in January, when she changed a twenty-shilling postal order for Yankel,
who bought a tin of salmon and a pound of lump sugar—I have no doubt Yankel is the man.
Cross-examined by MR. FBAZER. One or two other people were there—I looked sharply at Yankel, because he came between eleven and twelve o'clock to change the order; he was in the shop a few minutes—I am German; my husband is a sailor.
CATHERINE MARGARET YOUNG . My husband keeps the Chapman Arms, Lower Chapman Street, St. George's—one Saturday in January, between 9 and 10 p.m., two Polish Jews came in, Itchka was one of them—I served them with half a pint of beer, and they gave me this postal order for 10s. 6d.(No. 351,768)—the only other postal order, I took that night was a 2s. one—I picked Itchka out in the court-yard, and he acknowledged that he was the man—my little son took the order to the post-office, and it was detained.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. They did not stop many minutes at the bar—it was not Fulman who handed me the order—I gave the change to Itchia; I said at the Police-court that to the best of my belief Fulman was one of the men, and he acknowledged that I was right; he had no beard then.
JOHN YOUNG . I live with my father and mother at the Chapman Arms—my mother gave me two postal orders, one for 10s. 6d. and one for 2s.; I took them to the Post-office—they would not pay the half-guinea one, and asked my name and address.
MARIE ELIZABETH JONES . I am an assistant at the post office, 153 Commercial Road—the last witness brought two postal orders, one was a half-guinea one, No. 351768, and in consequence of information I had received I would not change it, but took his name and address, and communicated with the chief office.
THOMAS DONALDSON . I am a grocer—on January 28th Caplon came there and produced a postal order for 10s. 6d.—I asked if he had got any more—I could not understand his answer—then I went in behind and went to Shadwell Station, taking the order with me, and fetched a constable—when I came back Caplon was just coming out at the door—I pointed him out to the Constable—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man who gave me the order—I handed the order to the constable, who took him to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I was gone four or five minutes for the police; during that time the shop was in charge of my daughter—when I came back I was about 10 yards off when I saw him—he did not hurry off—before I went out I merely asked him if he had any more, and then I went away.
CHARLES HODGES (Policeman H 175). About 7.15, on 28th January, I was on duty in King David Lane Police-station—I was sent by Mason with Donaldson to a shop—Donaldson pointed out Caplon to me, about twenty-five yards away—I ran towards him and told him I should take him into custody for having a stolen postal order in his possession—he said, "I don't know nothing of it"—Walker's coal shop is about ten yards from Donaldson's—I brought Caplon past Walker's shop, and took him to the station—I found that Caplon lived at 21, Devonshire Street—Quinn was there; it is a private house—Caplon did not wait to be searched; he handed three more to the Inspector, and said he had picked them up.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I went up behind him—he was walking at an ordinary pace—he made no resistance—he spoke very good English, but I could tell he was a foreigner.
ARTHUR MASON (Police Inspector). On 10th January I was in charge at shadwell Station when Hodges brought Caplon in—Mr. Donaldson handed me postal order No. 351,762, and said, "This man came into my shop and asked me to change this order"—I held it up and said to the prisoner, "This order is supposed to be stolen, and I shall detain you while inquiries are made"—he said, "I don't understand English very well; I picked four of them up to-day," and handed me three orders, 351,765 for 10s. 6d., 318,100 for 1s., and 169,915 for 2s., all bearing the stamp of High Street, Whitechapel, and different dates.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Some money was found on him, and a watch and chain, and a purse containing £1 in gold, £1 12s. 6d. in silver, 1s. 6 1/2 d. in bronze, six pawntickets, a silver watch and chain, with a 4s. piece attached, a piece of soap, two keys, a piece of Indian ink, and a letter with his address on it.
JOHN QUIXN (Police Inspector H). On the night of January 28th I went with Hodges to 21, Devonshire Street, Commercial Road, the address found on Caplon—a female opened the door—I spoke to her in English, and Yankel opened the door of the front room ground floor—he was in his shirt and trousers—I searched the room, but found nothing appertaining to the charge—he seemed not to understand English—I directed Hodges to take him to the station—he made no reply—he was taken there and placed with Caplon and eight or nine others, and shown to some of the witnesses—postal order 290,490 was banded to Inspector Moon, who brought it to me—it has the stamp of the Whitechapel office and the signature GK Dray.
Cross-examined by MR. FRAZER. I did not go there to arrest Yankel, but he answered the description of a man who had been dealing with postal orders—I do not think this was a common lodging-house.
GEORGE KELLY . I live at 48, Cosh Buildings, Brook Street, Ratcliff—one day in January, about 7.30 a.m., I picked up fifteen postal orders in (. 'able Street, outside Mr. Walker's shop—I gave them to the inspector of the post-office.
HENRY SYKES BLAVER . I am Overseer of the Eastern District post-office—I received information, and went to Ashley Place, and saw Kelly, who gave me fifteen postal orders, 726,354 and 326,359 for one shilling each, 183,721 for four shillings, 183,725 for 1s. 6d., 183,728 and 183,727 for 1s. 6d., 776,217 and 18 for two shillings each, 189,011 for 3s. 6d., 018,913 for 3s. 6d., 618,916 for 3s. 6d., 556,057 and 556,059 for five shillings.
WILLIAM JONES . I am fourteen years old, and live at 55, Brook Street, Ratcliff—I was with Kelly when he picked up these pieces of paper, at 7 a.m., and I picked up six more near Walker's coal-shop—I gave them to Malony.
STEPHEN MALONY . I am Inspector of the Eastern District post-office—I received six postal orders from Jones: No. 136,069 for three shillings. 183,723, for 1s. 6d., 183,729, for 1s. 6d., 326,355, for 1s., 486,479, for 2s. 6d., and 618,920, for 3s. 6d. the issuing stamp is High Street, whitechapel.
Post Office—this date-stamp is not genuine—these orders, 351,762, 65, 68, and 70, for 10s. 6d. each, have not the genuine stamp of the issuing office—these two orders, 518,000, for 1s., and 169,945, 2s., are genuine—the shilling one has Miss Dray's signature, and the other is signed "Johnson"—here are four 10s. 6d. orders which are not genuine; two of these are signed, "G. Dray"—the signatures of the other two are undecipherable—on 29th January I went to Fulman's lodging with Hurst—we saw Fulman first in the street, and Hurst asked him to accompany him back—we went into his bedroom and I saw this envelope lying on the table; it bears the name of G. Dray, and two portions of a signature—Miss Dray's signature is "G. Dray," and there is something before which looks like "Greerson"—I think all these letters on this envelope are in one person's writing, and they correspond with the signature, "G. Dray," and the two which are undecipherable—five of the orders, those for 3s., 20s, and three 10s. 6d. ones, bear the issuing stamp of December 3rd—the twenty-one orders are dated January 20—that is not the correct issuing stamp—they are from High Street, Whitechapel, and are signed "G. Dray"—they resemble letters on the envelope found in Fulman's room.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. NO. 351,763 appears to be a genuine order—I am an expert—persons might be taken in by it; the forgery is a very skilful one—Fulman lives in a workman's dwelling, three or four tenements to a flat; the tenants of each sublet them—Fulman occupied a single room, and it did not appear to be occupied by anybody else—the rooms are occupied by very poor people—the envelope was laid with the ink side to the table—the rooms were open—there was access to Fulman's room through the other rooms.
WALTER HURST (Post Office Detective). I went with Mr. Settle to arrest Fulman, and told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I asked if he lived there—he showed me his room—I saw Mr. Settle pick up this envelope from the table—I found in the pocket of Fulman's coat hanging up in the room this pocket-book, bearing the name of "Halliwell, jeweller, Burgess Hill."
Cross-examined by MR. SANDYS. Dean Street is under a quarter of a mile from Keil's shop.
GRACE DRAY . I am an assistant at the High Street, Whitechapel, Post Office—this "G. Dray" to these postal orders, 619,997, 290,490, 351,762, and 351,770, is not my signature—I was not in the office on December 3rd; I was ill—I did not issue these other twenty-one orders—I issued this one for one shilling, No. 51,000—this one for two shillings was issued by Miss Johnson—that is genuine; I recognise her writing no attendance-book is kept.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I had to report my absence from duty to the postmaster, and he would find a clerk—I do not think he would make a report if I sent him a medical certificate—he is not here.
DAVID INGHAM DAVIES . I am a barber, of 51, Grenfield Street, Commercial Road—Fulman came there one Saturday night, and I cut his hair and took his whiskers off—he gave me a half-dollar, that is, half a crown—he came again on the Monday morning for a hair-brush, and took some postal orders from his pocket, and said, "I can afford to give you half a crown; I have plenty of money," and then put them back.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. He paid for the hair-brush—he had
a very long beard—I know Solomon Goldstein; he was in the shop on the Saturday night, but not on the Monday morning—there were about twenty people in the shop on the Saturday; Goldstein wanted to be shaved—Hyman was there—I was alone on the Monday—I was not at the Police-court—I am not a friend of Fulman—I have seen Gold stein to-day, but have not spoken to him; yes, I have spoken to him to-day.
Re-examined. He gave me a glass of rum, but he said nothing; he only asked me who fetched me; I had no conversation with him about what I was going to say.
JAMES SETTLE (Re-examined by the JURY). All the forged orders of December 3rd bear three letters, "Dec.," meaning December; the genuine have only "De.," and in addition to that it is a different stamping com position.
Fulman, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he was a traveller, and sold some goods in Kingston Market for £5 10s., and received £2 in cash, and £3 10s. in postal orders; that he went home at 9 or 9.30, and the Post Office being closed, he changed some of the orders in a public-house and gave Caplon £1 in cash and some orders, as he owed him money.
MR. FRITH called
HYMAN KAUFFMAN (Interpreted). I live at 21, Devonshire Street, Commercial Road, and am a bootmaker—I know Caplon and Fulman—Caplon is a traveller—about five weeks ago, on a Tuesday, Fulman came to Caplon, who sold goods to him for £3—he gave Caplon silver and paper money, and Caplon said, "I have been in London so long, and I have never seen such money; instead of paper give me silver or gold"—Fulman said, "You can go to any shop anywhere you like and change it, and get silver money for it"—Caplon did not reply, but he received the paper money and went away—Caplon was only partly dressed, but he dressed and washed himself and went into the street—I went away to look for work, and returned home about eleven o'clock at night, and my wife told me that Caplon was locked up—I went to the Arbour Square Police-court next day—Caplon was represented by a solicitor there—he did not call me as a witness, but I was ready to give evidence if I had been called—I went to the Thames Police-court and asked what Caplon was locked up for, and was told that he had some false notes in his possession; and I said that I saw the man give him the money—I said to the detective, "Come with me and I will point out the man who gave Caplon that money"—I went with two detectives and did so, and he was arrested.
Cross-examined. Caplon is my father-in-law; he sells shawls and hand kerchiefs; he sold some on the morning he was locked up, and Itchka took them away with him—I never saw Itchka buy any stock before; I have known him since last summer; he lived with Caplon several weeks, and left before the Feast of Tabernacles.
RACHEL KAUFFMAN (Interpreted). I am the wife of Hyman Kauffman, of Devonshire Street—about five weeks ago, on a Tuesday, Itchka came and bought goods of my father, and gave him silver and paper money; he refused to take the paper money, and said, "I have been in London so long, and do not know what it is"—Itchka said, "If you co to any shop or any public-house they will give it to you," and he took his goods, and went away—my father dressed himself in the afternoon, and went
away, and the Inspector came and asked to search; I cannot speak English, and could not ask him what he was searching for; I went into the street, and heard that my father was locked up, and next morning I went to the Court, and inquired what he was locked up for, and was in formed that he had some false money in his possession—I had never seen postal orders in his possession before.
Cross-examined. My father has only lived in England three years—I have known Itchka since last year—he wheeled a barrow and wore a beard then.
SARAH LEVY (Interpreted). My husband is a bookbinder—we live at 14, Booth Street—I know Goldstein—I was sitting in the passage at the Thames Police-court, speaking to some people, and Goldstein came to me, and said, "What is the matter with you? what are you doing here?"—I told him I came to be a witness for Itchka Fulman—he heard all that I had to say, and said, "What are you going to say? what you get for it?"—I said, "I don't want nothing; I only came here to speak the truth"—he said, "In this generation the truth and nothing but the truth, so long as I get something for it"—he called me a fool because I did not ask for money, and wont away from me.
Cross-examined. I went to speak for Itchka, not for Caplon—I knew that Itchka was arrested on Wednesday, and on Saturday he was engaged to be married—I live in the back room, and he in the front.
SAMUEL LEVY . I am a jeweller, and live at St. George's-in-the-East; I know Caplon and Goldstein—last Sunday ten days I met Goldstein at the corner of Berners Street—he said, "Here you are, I have not seen you for a long time; do you want to have a job?"—I said, "Let me know; if I am able to do the job I shall do it"—he said, "Would you like to have half-a a quartern of rum?"—I said, "I want to know before what sort of job you are going to give me"—he asked if I should like to be a witness—I said, "Tell me what case"—he said, "If you like to be a witness I will give you good pay"—I said I have a good character, I don't want to swear to anything I don't know—he suggested that if I gave evidence I could get money for doing it.
Cross-examined. This was ten days ago from to-day, Sunday week—I live in Berry Street, Commercial Road—I did not know that Caplon and Itchka were in trouble; I do not know them—I got a paper to come here and give evidence—I live in Old Gravel Lane now, my number is 929, and I live in the workhouse—I was out on Sunday for a walk—I know Yankel; he is a countryman of mine—I come from Coblona, Poland, twenty-four miles from Warsaw.
NOT GUILTY .
There were other indictments against the prisoners, which were postponed to next Sessions.
249. JOHN SAGE** (24) [Pleaded guilty: see original image file] , To stealing a watch from William Bevan; also, to a conviction of felony in September, 1884, at this Court.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour , with a week's solitary confinement at the end of the term. And
OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 6th, 1890.
Before Lord Chief Justice Coleridge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, March 6th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
252. JAMES MURRELL FORTUNE (31) PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for forging and uttering cheques for £77 19s. 7d., and other sums; and to fire indictments for unlawfully obtaining cheques by false pretences, after a conviction of a like offence on June 25th, 1883.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. And
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FILLAN Prosecuted.
The Prisoner did not deny having exposed the libellous placard in his window, and not having pleaded a justification, the RECORDER told the JURY that there was no defence to the case.
To enter into recognisances.
MR. BEARD and MR. TAYLOR Prosecuted; and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
The JURY stopped the case during its progress, expressing their opinion that although the Prisoner's transactions were irregular, there was not enough to justify a conviction.
NOT GUILTY .
He was further charged upon three other indictments, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUTR Prosecuted.
CHARLES HENRY CAMPBELL . I am an accountant, and live at Wood ford—on 24th February I was in the waiting-room at Liverpool Street Station—I put this bag (produced) by my side, and was reading—the prisoner, who was sitting opposite to me, rose up and moved the bag from within my reach to the other side of the table—I made no sign—he then went to the window, remained two or three minutes, and then returned, picked up the bag, and walked hurriedly away—I pointed him
out to a porter who brought him back to the platform—he said, "I am very sorry I have made a mistake, and taken your bag instead of my own; I hope you will believe it was quite a mistake"—he said that he opened it and looked at the night-shirt, and found it was not his—he did not offer to go back to the waiting-room and point out his bag—he was in the waiting-room when I went in—he had no bag.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, You did not say that, seeing the night shirt at the top, you thought it was your bag, but you spoke very quickly, and I may have misunderstood you.
WALTER PAGE . I am a porter at Liverpool Street Station—Mr. Campbell pointed out the prisoner to me; he came out of the waiting room into the booking-office, and on to the platform with this bag in his hand—when he got off the platform under the dark arches lie opened the bag, and took out a white paper parcel and some books, and turned all the things over, and picked up the parcel and put it back again, and walked down the sub way to the Underground Railway—I put my hand on his shoulder and said "Does that bag belong to you?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Another gentleman says it belongs to him"—he made no answer—on the way back he said, "This is my bag, it contains a night-shirt"—I said, "Of course you know it contains a night-shirt, because you looked at everything in it"—he said, "My bag contained a night-shirt, let us go and have a drink"—I did not do that—we went back to the prosecutor, and I said, "Is this your bag?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Do you charge him with stealing it?"—he said, "Yes," and I took him to the Police-office—he did not offer to take me to the waiting room and show me his bag; a constable found his bag at a coffee-house at Charing Cross; it was not quite so large as this bag, and not so good—he was sober.
Cross-examined. You only took out the parcel, but you turned the other things over.
JOHN COLEMAN (City Policeman 887). The prisoner was handed over to me at Liverpool Street Station—on the way to the station he said, "It must have been, a stupid thing for me to do, I must have mistaken it for my bag"—he gave his address at a coffee-shop in Duke Street, Adelphi, where I found this bag, containing three or four pairs of socks and a night shirt—he told me he had been stopping there for four nights—the night shirt was not in the bag, it was on the top of it—the socks were in the bag, and a paper parcel—he was perfectly sober.
The Prisoner, in his Defence, stated that being the worse for drink he believed the bag was his own.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT,—Thursday March 6th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
SUMMERS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
mine—I saw the prisoners and another man walking together in Barbican, in the direction of Finsbury—their backs were towards me; I and Berry followed them—they passed a lady, after which I saw her handbag was open—they walked a few yards, and then returned and went into Aldersgate Street Station—I went in and saw Summers on the platform, and Farrell in the lavatory on the bridge having his boots cleaned—I did not see the third man anywhere—I went on the platform with Berry—Farrell joined Summers about three minutes after—a London, Chatham and Dover train came in, which goes, among other places, to the Borough Road—the prisoners went towards the carriages, but did not get in—the next train that came in was a Great Northern, for High Barnet—the prisoners moved towards that train, and Farrell placed himself in front of Mrs. Marsh, and Summers placed himself on her left side—she Was carrying a handbag on her left arm—I observed Summers place his left hand on the bag and open it, and extricate a purse with his right hand, and put it in his pocket—he made a step backwards, and I caught hold of him, and Berry put him up against the rails of the platform, and he threw the purse on the ground—I did not see where Farrell went to; my back was to the train—when I looked round he had gone—I took Summers into custody—afterwards I saw Farrell in the custody of Wear at Aldersgate Street Station—I told him I was a police officer, and that he would be charged with stealing a purse—he said, "I know nothing about it"—an inspector of the Metropolitan Railway handed me a ticket at the same time, and said, "This is the ticket which Farrell gave to me"—it is a third-class ticket from Aldersgate Street to Borough Road—I never saw either of the prisoners before that day.
Cross-examined. Summers threw the purse away about half-past one—I found Farrell in Wear's custody about twenty minutes afterwards—I had been with Berry since twelve o'clock—we were standing at the corner of a street in the Barbican when the three men passed us—we stood looking at them when they passed the lady—we both had the same opportunity of seeing them—I did not tell the Alderman about seeing them pass a lady, and her bag being open afterwards, because the chief clerk told me to come to the fact at once—when the lady's purse was stolen on the platform I was standing three yards from the prisoners, opposite the ticket-box—this was on Saturday afternoon, and at a quarter-past one it was a busy time at the station—passengers were going to and coming from the trains; other persons were on the platform—the purse was taken from the bag very quickly; a pair of sharp eyes could see it, I think—I did not notice where Farrell went to—when I charged him at the railway station he said, "I know nothing about it"—at the Police-station he was asked his name and address; he gave a correct address near the Goswell, Road.
By the JURY. I watched the three men in the Barbican, because they were of respectable appearance, but their boots were dirty, as though they had been walking some time.
GEORGE BERRY . I am a silversmith, of 9, Bartholomew Close—on Saturday afternoon, 1st February, about 1.15, I was with Phillips in the Barbican—I saw the two prisoners and another man—we let them go by and followed them—they were going towards Finsbury—they met a lady coming in the opposite direction—as she passed, I noticed her bag was open—the prisoners and the other men turned back, and went to the ticket
office of the Aldersgate Street Station—I and Phillips followed—Summers and the third man went on the platform, and there the third man left Summers, and went to the end of the platform—Farrell stopped in the lavatory, and had his boots cleaned, and then joined Summers—a London, Chatham and Dover train came in—the prisoners went towards some females getting into a second-class carriage—they did not get in, but stood back against the wall—that train went, and afterwards a Great Northern High Barnet train came in—the prisoners then went towards the prosecutrix, who was going to get into a second-class carriage; Farrell went in front of her, and Summers on her left side—Summers put his left hand on the handbag she carried on her left arm, and with his right hand he took this purse out of the bag, and put it in his right hand coat pocket—I and Phillips took hold of him; he took the purse out, and threw it on to the platform—the guard picked it up—Farrell got into the train just by where we were—I cannot say if he got into a second or third class carriage.
Cross-examined. I saw Farrell in custody about half an hour after wards on the middle platform at Aldersgate Street Station—I was waiting there then—I had gone with Summers to the Police-station, and come back to the railway station—I saw Farrell come along the platform; I did not see him get out of the train—I had not seen him before that day.
Cross-examined. The prisoners only went by us in the Barbican—I watched them four or five minutes on the platform—Farrell is one of the men, I have no doubt about it.
MARY ANN MARSH . I am the wife of William Marsh; we live at 68, Craston Road, Streatham Hill—this is my purse—I had it in this bag, which was slung on my left arm, on Saturday, 1st February, when I was at Aldersgate Street Station, going second-class to Wood Green with my husband on business—I approached a carriage, when Summers knocked my elbow, which had been broken, and hurt me very much—I turned and looked at him—I cannot say I saw Farrell—I got in the carriage, and then the detective spoke to me, and I found my bag was open and my purse, containing £1 3s., gone.
Cross-examined. Some persons were there—my money was quite safe.
JAMES SHEPHERD . I am a guard on the Great Northern Railway—on Saturday, 1st February, I had charge of the rear part of a High Barnet train, which left Aldersgate Street at 1. 23—I observed Mrs. Marsh getting into a third-class carriage—I went along to close the doors, and saw Hamilton catch hold of Summers by the collar and call out, "I will have that purse;" he no sooner said that than the purse was thrown, and hit me on the leg and fell to the ground—some person, whom I cannot recognise, attempted to pick it up, and I put my foot on it, and gave it to Hamilton—the person who tried to pick it up got into a carriage—I got the lady out of the compartment—the train went on—I got into my van—I noticed a person looking out of a window, which was, as near as I could make out, the window of the carriage into which the person got—I saw the person get out of the train at the next station, and followed him up as he made for the exit-gate—it was Farrell—I touched him on the shoulder and said, "Where are you for?"—he said, "I have got into the wrong train, the guard told me to ret in at the last station"—I said, "Where is your ticket?"—he said, "I have a ticket," and he took from his pocket and
showed me a ticket from Aldersgate Street to the Borough Road—I called the collector, and told him in the prisoner's presence, that the person had a Chatham and Dover ticket, and he said, "Send him over the other side"—a porter came, and I said I had my suspicions that I believed he was a person required at Aldersgate Street, one of a party connected with stealing a purse there, and I handed him over to a porter and started my train—by the way the prisoner got out of the train at Farringdon Street I have an opinion that he is the man that attempted to pick up the purse.
Cross-examined. I have been a guard close on six years—occasionally people get into the wrong train—it is usual for them then to come and tell the guard—he said the guard told him to get in; I understood him to mean me—I had my uniform on—I was at the Police-court, but I was not examined—I received instructions from the King's Cross station-master about a fortnight since to come here—when I said, in Farrell's hearing, that I suspected him of being one of a party connected with stealing a purse at Aldersgate Street, he made no reply—he said nothing whatever in my hearing.
Re-examined. No solicitor was present for the prosecution at Guildhall—Phillips conducted the case; I did not hear him propose to call me.
WILLIAM HAMILTON (Detective Officer Great Northern Railway). At 1.20 p.m. I was on the down line of the Great Northern Station, Aldersgate Street—I saw Mrs. Marsh carrying a handbag—I saw the London, Chatham and Dover train come in, and afterwards the Great Northern—I was standing behind the lady and her husband, who was reading a newspaper; she made her way to the train; I followed—a crowd was crushing towards the train—Summers came between her and me on the left side, and then I saw her handbag open; her white handkerchief was showing at the top—Summers passed at her back; I caught him by the coat collar, and said, "Give me that purse"—he struggled with me; his hand was in his right coat pocket; he pulled out a purse and threw it towards the end of the train, and it fell on the platform—I saw the rear guard coming along, and I called out, "Guard, pick up that purse; bring it to me"—I did not notice Farrell.
HENRY GEORGE SERLE . I am a Metropolitan Railway porter at Farringdon Street Station—at 1. 23 on this Saturday afternoon, when the High Barnet train came in, I was on the platform—I saw Shepherd get out and run towards the middle of the train—I followed close behind him, and saw him stop Farrell and ask him where he was going—he said he was going to the Borough Road; he had got into the wrong train—the guard asked how he came to get in the train; Farrell said, "The guard told me," and pointed to Shepherd, who said, "I am the guard, and I did not tell you to get into this train"—Shepherd told me to take him back to Aldersgate Street, and see the station inspector—I did so, and called the inspector's attention, and asked if anything was lost, in Farrell's presence—he said he would see, went into the booking-office and brought Wear, a constable, to whom I gave Farrell—Shepherd said to me at Farringdon Street, before asking me to take him back, "That man had a friend at Aldersgate Street, who I understood had been stealing a watch"—Farrell said nothing to that.
Cross-examined. I was not at Guildhall—I was asked to come here about a fortnight ago—Farrell said, in answer to Shepherd, The guard
put me in," pointing to Shepherd; I was present—I have not seen Shepherd in the meantime—I did not hear Farrell say, "I know nothing about it," when Shepherd said he suspected him to be concerned with stealing—I daresay I should have heard it if he had said it.
GEORGE WEAR (City Policeman. 283). I was called about 1.40 to Aldersgate Street Railway Station, where I found Farrell in Serle's custody; he was handed over to me and the platform Inspector, who said he should be handed over to me till the arrival of Phillips, for being concerned with a man in custody in stealing a purse; Farrell made no reply—during the time he was in my custody he tried to escape, and succeeded in reaching a train in motion towards Moorgate Street, the other way to the Borough—to avoid an accident I let him get in, and got in myself, and at Moorgate Street I removed him, and brought him back to Aldersgate Street again, and handed him to Phillips.
Cross-examined. Some persons, not many, gathered round us at Alders gate Street to see what was happening—the prisoner said to me, "Take me to the station, and don't keep me in this crowd"—he was sitting down, and a train came in, and when it started he get into it—I had kept him on the platform ten minutes.
GUILTY . Summers** † then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1885, and Farrell † to one in October, 1886, in the name of Albert Perkins .—SUMMERS— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. FARRELL— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WATTS Prosecuted. The details of this case are unfit for publication.— NOT GUILTY .
260. ELIZA LOVELL (60)and ELIZA LOVELL (27), Stealing five silk handkerchiefs and other goods, the property of James Barlow, the employer of Eliza Lovell the younger. The younger Prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to stealing all the articles charged, except certain glasses.
MR. ABINGER Prosecuted.
JAMES WOOD BARLOW . I live at 10, Avenue Road, South Norwood Park—the younger prisoner came into my service on July 14th, 1888, and left on November 5th, 1889, when I prosecuted her—during the time she was with me I saw the elder prisoner, her mother, twice—she was called Mrs. Green; the younger prisoner was Eliza Lovell—in September, 1888, two or three months after the girl came into my employment, I missed a diamond ring, value eight guineas—I blamed my man servant at the time, but I could not prove it, and let the matter drop—while the girl was with us I also missed a spade guinea—in November, 1889, she got intoxicated, and I gave her notice to leave and a month's wages, and when she was going she was taking some of our wines and spirits out, and I prosecuted her—after she left a communication was made to me, and Chick brought some of these things to my house—these are my five silk handkerchiefs; they were in a box in an empty room at the top of the house—these are my wine-glasses and my diamond ring.
Cross-examined by the elder Prisoner. You came once to my house at Leatherhead, and once to Norwood—I heard you had two wedding rings on.
MATTHEW CHICK . I arrested the elder prisoner, and I was there when the younger prisoner was arrested—in consequence of information I searched 14, Distillery Road, where the younger prisoner lived; I found this spade guinea, silk handkerchiefs, candlestick, blanket, dominoes and box and cribbage-board, six wine-glasses, meerschaum pipe, toilet mats, match-holder—the elder prisoner had been living there two or three months before—in consequence of what the younger prisoner said to me, I went to 21, Alpha Place, where I saw the elder prisoner, and told her daughter was in custody for stealing a lot of linen, and I said, "She had made a statement to me, and therefore I shall take you into custody for receiving them"—she said, "Very well, I know nothing about it"—I took her to the station—the younger prisoner was brought out of her cell, and they were confronted—I read to the elder prisoner what the younger prisoner had told me as to another case—she was charged and made no reply—on the 30th I went again to Alpha Place and searched the elder prisoner's room in the presence of her daughter in-law—I found in a bonnet-box in a cupboard in the front room this diamond ring, and in another room occupied by her two wine-glasses in a box.
MARGARET CHAMBERLAIN . I am a widow, and live at 12, Distillery Road—the elder prisoner came to live next door but one to me, nearly five years ago, as housekeeper to my brother—the younger prisoner used to come to her mother occasionally, when she was out of a situation—my brother discharged the elder prisoner, and the younger one remained about a month—the elder prisoner went to her son's, in London—I saw these things, found by Chick, at my place—the elder prisoner had access to the place where they were found when she was there—they lived there together.
ANNIE ATFIELD . I am the wife of John Atfield, a labourer, of 67, Addison Road—the younger prisoner brought these two wine-glasses, draught-box, and candlestick to a young man, Burns, who was lodging with us—she was keeping company with him, so far as I know—she left them there for him; he was in when she brought the dominoes—after wards both prisoners came and took them away—I believe the younger prisoner fell out with the young man.
Cross-examined by the elder Prisoner. You packed them up; you put up the dominoes.
The elder Prisoner, in her statement before the Magistrate and in her defence, said that her daughter gave her the ring, and said she had given a boy 2d. for it; that she did not consider it worth anything; and that the glasses had been packed up with her things by mistake. The younger Prisoner, in her defence, said that Mrs. Barlow had given her the glasses and curtains.
The elder Prisoner GUILTY of receiving the diamond ring— Nine Months' Hard Labour. The younger GUILTY on all charges, except as to the glasses. There was another indictment against the prisoners for stealing two petticoats and other articles, the goods of John Slater, the employer of Eliza Lovell the younger, to which she PLEADED GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
261. CHARLES TOMLINSON (26) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a coat and other articles, the goods of Richard Darcombe; having been convioted of felony in October, 1887, at Newington, in Surrey, in the name of George Taylor , to which he pleaded
NOT GUILTY ,
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
THOMAS HAND . I am a warder at H. M. Prison, Wandsworth—I was present at the Newington Sessions House on 19th October, 1887, when the prisoner was charged with housebreaking and larceny, and sentenced totwo years' imprisonment with hard labour, in the name of George Taylor —there was a second indictment against him for stealing a watch and £32—I was present—for the last twelve months I have had him under my charge, he came out on 17th October—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You have a scar on the right side of your head, and one under your chin, according to the record—I have not seen those scars—I am positive you are the man—I know you by your face and voice—you were not under my observation the whole two years, only the last twelve months—you were under my charge, but you were under Bottomley, a temporary officer, who is not here.
Re-examined. I saw him about four times a week; if I had any doubt I should give him the benefit of it; I was present at the trial.
(Two warders in the dock looked at the prisoners chin, and said there was a sear upon it.)
GUILTY of the previous conviction— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, March 7th, 1890.
Before Lord Chief Justice Coleridge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. WARBURTON Defended.
MARY ANN MORGAN . I live at the top of the house, 59, Lower North Street, Chelsea—the prisoner, his wife, and family occupied the shop and the room behind on the ground floor and the first floor room—he is a cat's meat man—on Thursday, 20th February, I came from work about twelve in the day, and went up to my room—as I was going upstairs I heard the wife say, "You had better kill me at once, you brute!"—that was all I heard—I had been up in my room about twenty minutes, the prisoner called me down—I went down, and found the deceased lying in the passage, outside their parlour door, at the foot of the staircase—the prisoner was standing by her side—he was holding her by one arm with one hand, and supporting himself by the bannisters with the other—he was very muddled with drink—he told me to look after his wife—I asked him what he had done—he said that had nothing to do with me, that was his business—I and the prisoner lifted her up—we got her as far as the yard door, the prisoner then left her, and I went on with her myself into the yard, and she then fell—I assisted her upstairs with Mrs. Hilsden, put her on the bed, and took off her clothes—on the left side of her stays I saw a stain of blood at the lower part—I knew that she was far advanced in pregnancy—I sent for Dr. Frankish, and he came about half-past two-after he had gone the deceased said something to me, in consequence of which I examined her, and I then found a wound in the stomach—it was
bleeding at that time—she had her chemise on—the doctor came again about twenty minutes past six, and then attended to the wound—he then went away, and came back again—she died at half-past eleven—the prisoner came up and down to the room very often—he said nothing about this matter—I have known him six years; I have lived in the same house with them—they lived on very good terms indeed until the last two years—during those two years he has been very jealous of her, accusing her of a wrong thing—I have very often heard quarrels between them—the prisoner was always in drink when he quarrelled with his wife; when sober he was a very good husband to her—when they were quarrelling he has accused her of very wrongful things—I have heard him threaten her—a week before this I heard him threaten he would do for her before he had done—he often used to say so when in drink.
Crow-examined. They were on very affectionate terms during the four years I lived in the same house—for the last two years he was very frequently drunk—he had been suffering from delirium tremens once or twice, and was violent—he has been ill, and under medical treatment he has seven children, all living with them—when sober he was a very good father to his children and a kind husband—on the morning in question I heard some rather violent quarrelling—I did not see the woman—I heard her voice—she seemed excited—there was a wrangling going on, on and off during the morning—the prisoner was not so very drunk; he was very muddled—he seemed very fidgety and agitated after it had happened—he did not seem grieved; he seemed very anxious to come into the room—he knew the doctor was coming; he sent his own little boy for him—it was the doctor that had attended his wife in her last confinement—the prisoner showed no sign of wanting to get away.
Re-examined. He was there when the doctor came—I don't know whether he saw him, I was upstairs—I said to him, "You had better send for the doctor"; and he sent for him—nothing was said about the wound on the first occasion.
JOHN ALFRED GEORGE LAWRENCE . I am a son of the prisoner—on the morning of 20th February I went out about quarter to four—my father and mother were not on good terms at that time; they had been, quarrel ling that morning—my father was in drink when I left the house—I came back at half past ten—while I was out, at a quarter to nine, I saw my mother run from the house into the street—she stood there about two seconds, and then walked back again—I then went to my work, and returned after four in the afternoon—I went upstairs and saw my mother in bed—my father was in the room—I said, "Mother, what is the matter?"—she made no answer—about eight in the evening I was in the kitchen with my father—he said, "Alf, I threw the knife at mother"—he was cutting the skewers that afternoon, so I knew what knife it was—I had not seen him do it, but I knew by the chips about the kitchen—that was where the skewers were generally cut—no knife was kept in that room for the purpose of cutting skewers; a particular knife was used for it—this is the knife (produced)—I saw it on the counter in the shop the same evening—there was no blood on it.
Cross-examined. My father was generally kind to me and my brothers and sisters—he was also kind and thoughtful to my mother.
Re-examined. He had beindrinking on and off for some time.
borough Square—the prisoner married my sister—I have been a visitor at the house from time to time—he has given way to drink for the last two years—when sober he was a kindly man; when in liquor he was very quarrelsome—between four and half-past on 20th February I received a message, in consequence of which I wont to the prisoner's house—I went upstairs and found my sister in bed—in consequence of what she told me I went for Dr. Frankish; he was not at home; I left a message, and returned to the house about half-past five—I found my sister still in bed, and the prisoner in the room—he kept continually going to the bedside, talking ridiculous talk—he had been drinking for a considerable time—I could not say whether he was drunk or sober, betwixt and between—my sister was very ill at the time—I told him he had better keep away from the bed side, and he had better go downstairs—he said, "I will take your advice," and he went down—I went down shortly after—I found him in the parlour adjoining the shop; he said to me, "Alf, I have done it; I suppose I shall be b——well hanged for it; but if I do, bad luck to the one that rounds on me"—I then said, "Jack, if you have done it, I am ashamed of you," and I forbade him then to speak to me—he tried to speak to me again, and I forbade him—by that time the doctor had arrived, and sent for me, and I went up and saw him; my sister was worse at that time—I stayed with her till she died, about half past eleven that night.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not know I was going to the station; I went on my own responsibility.
SAMUEL CLUNY (Detective B). About a quarter-past seven in the evening; of 20th February I went to 59, North Street, and there saw the doctor; from what he told me I went to the prisoner, who was then sitting in an arm-chair in the back room, asleep—I spoke to the son first, and from what he told me I asked for the skewer knife, and he gave it me; this is it—I woke the prisoner, and told him he would have to go to the station with me—he said, "Let me see your warrant"—I showed him my book—he said, "All right; I will go with you"—I then told him he would be charged with stabbing his wife—he said, "I did not do it"—on the way to the station he put his hands in his pocket, and said, "This is all through a little drop of tiddley," meaning beer—at the station the charge was read over to him by Sergeant Wright—he said, "That's right," and burst out in tears—I took possession of the clothes the deceased was wearing, and produce them.
Cross-examined. The knife is an ordinary knife for cutting skewers, it is heavy in the handle—he was very much affected when charged—he had the appearance of a man dazed and recovering from drink.
WILLIAM JOHN FRANKISH . I am a surgeon, of 102, Sloane Street—on 20th February, about half-past two, I was sent for to 59, North Street—I there saw the prisoner—he did not give me any details as to his wife's condition—I went upstairs to the room on the first floor, and saw Mrs. Lawrence in bed, Mrs. Morgan was with her, and I had some conversation with her—the deceased was far advanced in pregnancy—nothing was said at that time about the existence of a wound, and I merely treated her medically for premature labour, which I feared might come on—I left her, saying I would send some medicine, which I did—about a quarter-past six I returned to the house, and then in consequence of
what I was told I examined her—I found a wound on the left side, midway between the navel and the edge of the ribs, about three inches to the left of the middle line of the body—blood was oozing from the wound—I dressed the wound and stitched it up, the vein was bleeding—at that time she made a statement with regard to the wound—I do not recollect saying anything to her as to her condition, before she made that statement—she was in an extremely debilitated collapsed state—from what I saw I suspected internal injury; a greater injury than I could see any external appearance of—I then left, and returned about half-past nine—I found her still weaker—I again dressed the wound, and again stitched it up—the condition was much more marked—I left, and saw her no more alive—on the 22nd I made a post-mortem examination of the body—I was then able to trace the wound through the abdominal walls, severing a large vein lying over the intestines, and passing through the left lobe of the liver—the direction of the wound was downwards, backwards, and inwards—the outer wound was about half au inch wide, and penetrated from about three inches to three and a half—there was considerable internal hemorrhage; there was from three to four pints of liquid blood in the cavity of the abdomen—death was due from exhaustion, consequent upon the hemorrhage caused by the wound—I had placed before me the dress, petticoat, stays, and chemise which were worn by the deceased on this day—I found in them the marks of a cut, through all the four articles of clothing, all caused by the same cut—three folds of the dress were cut through—the knife produced is such a one as would inflict such a wound—I should say it went up to the hilt—it is only sharp at the edge; the back is blunt—I think the injury could have been inflicted by a throw of the knife—if so, it must have been thrown with considerable violence—from the direction of the wound, the person inflicting it would probably be taller than the person on whom it was inflicted, and four or five feet from the person—I think sufficient impetus could be placed on the weapon so as to cause the injury; the woman being pregnant the abdominal walls would be tense, like the head of a drum, and therefore a knife like this would penetrate much more easily than if they were flaccid—I think it would penetrate the stays; it has a very sharp point, and would penetrate easily—the wound was necessarily fatal; nothing could have saved her—she made no statement to me on my first visit, showing that she was aware of approaching death—I do not recollect that she did so on the second visit—she felt very bad and very faint—she did not say that she did not think she should recover—I did not tell her that she was rapidly sinking—there is no whalebone in that part of the stays where the wound was; it is a thin part.
GUILTY of manslaughter— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, March 7th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. F. FULTON and MR. GILL Prosecuted.
Called on me in March, and asked me to lend her some money—she said she was engaged as private vocalist to the Princess of Wales, at Marlborough House, and her quarter would come on May 23rd, when she expected to receive her salary, and would pay me on the very day, or the day after—she had made similar statements before; she was continually visiting at our house as a friend—believing her statements, I lent her £5, for which she gave me this I O U—when May 23rd arrived, I asked her if she had received her quarter's salary, she said no; she had made a mistake, and had to be paid half-yearly instead—I never got the money; she always made excuses about the family being abroad, and so on.
Cross-examined by E. A. Fitzhugh. My father offered to become security for the money if I lent it, but I should not have lent it if you had not told me about Marlborough House.
SIR DIGHTON PROBYN , K. C. B. I am a general in the Army and Comptroller of the Household to H. R. H. the Prince of Wales—there never was a private vocalist named Eliza Annie Fitzhugh employed in the household—there is a housemaid named Fitzhugh, but no one else of the name—no applications have been made by the younger prisoner, or on her behalf, for an appointment at Marlborough House—all applications must come through my hands.
Cross-examined by E. A. Fitzhugh. I do not remember seeing you at the Alexandra Palace when the Prince and Princess of Wales were there—they went into the hall, and a concert had commenced—I do not know whether you gave it—I have heard that you sang at Wolverton, near Sandringham; it was a little village concert.
D'AUVERGNE HENRY BERNARD . I am a musician, and have known the younger prisoner about two years—she came to me on 12th April, 1889, and said she wanted money to buy mourning, as the Household authorities wished her to attend the Duchess of Cambridge's funeral the following day—she had told me that she sang to the Duchess of Cambridge at her bedtime, and that she was very intimate with the Princess Maud, and was engaged as private vocalist at the Royal Household—I lent her £5, and she never repaid me.
Cross-examined by E A. Fitzhugh. You wanted to obtain goods from my employer, and I said I did not want you to do that; I will lend you the money myself—you were in the shop with me for an hour.
CHARLES WELLS . I am page to H. R. H. the Duke of Cambridge—I lived with the Duchess at Kew twenty-two years up to her death—the younger prisoner was never employed there in any capacity—she was not at the house attending the funeral—she may have been in the church or the churchyard, but she did not attend as a servant of the Household.
SAMUEL WILKIE . I live at Cyril Terrace, Green Lanes, and assist my father, a baker—the two prisoners lived at Harold Terrace, Hermitage Road, and opened an account for bread with my father—I saw them both there; they both said that the younger prisoner was a vocalist at Marlborough House, and I believed them, and supplied them up to 18s. 11d.—on asking for the money they said that the Royal Household was away, and they could not pay till they came back—we never got the money.
Cross-examined by Eliza Fitzhugh. You did not tell me what your daughter was till after the goods were supplied—we ceased to supply bread because we were dissatisfied.
Re-examined. Some reference was given, and we made inquiries, and about six weeks after that I went and saw the prisoners, and asked them questions—I supplied them with goods for a short time after that because I believed their statements.
Cross-examined by E. A. Fitzhugh. I did not call for the order; my man did; I believe you told him you wanted a quarter's credit—I said that I should not have applied for it, only my father was short of money—we did not ask for a reference.
FREDERICK BARKER . I am a dairyman, of Seven Sisters Road—on 20th July the elder prisoner asked me to supply her with milk at Harold Terrace—that was the first day they were there—I saw them again next day, and she asked me if I could give her credit; I said that the last people who lived there owed me money—she said that her daughter was private vocalist to the Princess Maud, and the Royal Household was away, and that was why she was at home, and she wanted credit because her salary was only paid quarterly—I believed that and supplied them—the first quarter was to be on August 27th, it was not paid; I said I should write to Marlborough House to know—the younger prisoner begged me not to do that, and cried at the door; and the elder prisoner said, "Pray do not do that, as if you do you will ruin my daughter"—I did not do it—I afterwards met them in the street, and the younger prisoner said she had been to sign articles at Marlborough House with Col. Nolan, for her money to be sent on in a day or two—I went to the house in a day or two, and found this note in the empty milk-can. (Stating that the Royal Family being away made it difficult to get the money)—I never got paid—the amount is £2 14s. 8d.—the mother told me that Lady Knollys paid her daughter—they afterwards disappeared from the place, and I could find no trace of them.
WILLIAM HENRY SPRUNT . I am assistant to a grocer in Seven Sisters Road—on 23rd July I left his card at 14, Harold Terrace, and on the 26th I was passing, and the elder prisoner called me and said that if I would give a month's credit she would give me an order, that her daughter was private vocalist at Marlborough House, and took her money monthly, and I believed her, and supplied them with grocery till October, when the account amounted to £7 15s. 11d.—about six weeks after the account commenced I applied to Mrs. Fitzhugh for payment—she said that the Princess of Wales was away, and her daughter would not receive her money till they returned—I had more than one interview with her, and the same thing was said again—she said that the father, Mr. Fitzhugh, was dying of fever, and she should not be able to go back to Marlborough House for some weeks.
Cross-examined by E. A. Fitzhugh. You gave me a reference—while we were talking a gentleman and his wife walked up, and said that your mother was a very respectable woman, and your mother mentioned your being at Marlborough House—I also called on your landlord.
ARTHUR SERGEANT. I am assistant to Mr. Kirk, a baker, of Stamford Hill—on 19th October I saw Mrs. Fitzhugh at Harold Terrace—she asked me to supply her with bread, and said she would pay monthly; I asked why, or if she could give me a reference—she said her daughter was a singer at Marlborough House—I asked, "What Marlborough House?"—she said, "Oh, to the Princess of Wales"—I left her a loaf that day, and told my employer—she was supplied with about 11s. worth of bread, and
about five weeks afterwards I called for payment—I had nothing to do with the daughter; the mother said that the Prince of Wales had gone down to Sandringham, and her daughter could not get her salary—the day before they left she gave me the book to make up; I took it the next day, and the house was empty.
JOHN GRAY . I am an undertaker, of 152, Seven Sisters Road—in September last the younger prisoner called on me, and gave orders for her father's funeral to the amount of £6 on my list—she said she would pay on the first week of next month, as she then took her salary—I asked her position—she said she was living in the domestic department of Marlborough House, in the employ of H. E. H. the Prince of Wales—I said, "Are you sure you can pay me the whole amount, because there will be the cemetery fees to pay? when do you take your next salary?"—she said, "Monthly"—I said, "Pay me £4 the first month, and the balance the following month"—I made inquiries at Marlborough House, and found there was a housemaid there named Fitzhugh, a very respectable person, and I was quite satisfied—I sent in my bill, and it was not paid—I afterwards received this letter without date. (Stating that the Royal Family were on the Continent, and would not be lack till next week.)—I wrote a peremptory letter to the mother, and called next morning; she said that her daughter was at Sandringham—I said, "Tell me in plain words what your daughter's position in the Royal Household is?"—she said, "My daughter is private vocalist to the Princess of Wales and her daughters"—she also said that the late Duchess of Cambridge was very partial to her daughter, and the Prince or Princess said that they were not to lose sight of Lizzie—I afterwards wrote to Marlborough House, not for my debt, but to put a stop to these proceedings.
Cross-examined by E. A. Fitzhugh. Your mother never spoke to me about the credit—after you moved you wrote to me from Sandringham, but you were not there; you were at the hotel at Lynn—you did not put "Sandringham House."
GEORGE WILLIAM STANLEY . (Police Sergeant AR ). I am sergeant in charge at Marlborough House, and know all the people connected with the Household—I never saw the prisoners till I saw them at the Policecourt.
THOMAS BROCKWELL (Police Sergeant M). On 9th February, about 8.30, I took the younger prisoner at Wolverton, Norfolk, near Sandringham—I read the warrant to her—she said, "I have seen Mr. Gray, it is all explained; he is not going to prosecute me"—I took her to London next morning, and she was charged—I found this book in the bedroom she occupied in a cottage—it contains the signatures of numbers of titled persons, and their addresses pasted in—on 8th February I arrested the elder prisoner on a warrant, and took her to the station—she said, "I can assure you I did not speak to Mr. Gray till after the funeral"—he was the only person mentioned in the warrant.
Eliza Fitzhugh, in her statement before the Magistrate and in her defence, stated that she fully believed her daughter was engaged in the Royal Household, and would be able to keep her, she having been an invalid for years. E. A. Fitzhugh stated that her mother's statement was perfectly correct; that
having lost all her money by giving a concert at the Alexandra Palace, a lady promised to get her into Marlborough Rouse in a musical capacity, and she believed the had succeeded, as she was congratulated on having got the appointment, and on the strength of that she managed to get credit, but was duped and deluded.
ELIZA FITZHUGH— NOT GUILTY .
E. A. FITZHUGH— GUILTY .
Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— One Months Imprisonment.
BIRD PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
JOHN CONQUEST (Detective Inspector E). I was in Court at Bow Street, before the late Sir James Ingham, when Mr. Parker was examined—he was sworn, gave his evidence, and signed his deposition, and the prisoners had an opportunity of cross-examining him. (Mr. Parker's evidence, only relating to Bird, was only partly read, to show that a tandem and horse, value £90, were let out to Bird and not paid for.)
CHARLES HUNTER WHEATLEY . I am a bill discounter, of Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury—on 20th December the prisoner called and gave the name of Frederick Manley Glubb—he asked me to lend him £100, and said that he was entitled to £10,000, under the will of Mr. Stephens, at the death of Mrs. Stephens, the widow—I asked him for references, and he gave me the solicitors, Messers. Tathams and Pym—he gave me his mother's name as Mrs. Fanny Glubb, 13, Hill Side, Wimbledon—he said he was a gentleman, and, believing his representations, I ultimately gave him a cheque for £70, which was returned through my bank, paid—after that I asked him for a reference as to his identity—he gave me Frank Jackson, 40, Grace church Street, to whom I wrote, and have a press copy of the letter—after it was posted I saw the prisoner, and asked him how long he had known Mr. Frederick Manley Glubb—he said, "Seven years, first at Wimbledon and then at Walton on-Thames"—I said, "Do you know Mr. Glubb has a reversion under the will of Mr. Stephens?"—he said he believed he had, and that he saw Mr. Glubb the day before, and he was very pleased to be of some service to him—this is the press copy:—"Dear Sir,—Mr. Frederick Manley Glubb, of Walton-on-Thames, refers me to you as to his identity. Will you please call on me to-morrow morning?"—Thompson called next day, and asked for a further loan of £30 to make up the £100—I didn't advance it—he gave me a charge on the reversion as security, and gave me a memorandum—security was offered on a horse and cart and harness which he said were at his private house at Walton-on-Thames—I accepted them, and instructed Mr. Dalton to go to Walton on 28th December, and the horse, cart, and harness were left at my house, and I have had them ever since—"Parker Brothers" is on the wheel.
prisoner Thompson—he is entitled to a reversion under the will of Mr. Stephens—I knew the prisoners as children, but have not seen them for some years.
Cross-examined. They are my nephews by marriage.
HENRY DALTON . I am a surveyor, and act with Mr. Wheatley—on 28th December I went to Walton-on-Thames and saw the prisoner Bird—he said, "We don't want to go to my house to carry out this matter; the horse and trap are at the house of a friend who have lent me money on them"—he left me at a public-house, and went out and returned—we then went to Mr. Brown's, and saw the horse, trap, and harness, and I handed over £60 to the representative of Mr. Brown, and Bird and I and the horse and trap, all went back to the public-house, where Bird introduced Thompson as Mr. Jackson—we all got up in the trap and drove to Kingston, where Jackson got out, and said he was going back to Walton—Bird and I drove on to Mr. Wheatley's, and left the horse, trap, and harness there, and Bird signed some papers there.
Cross-examined. It was a dog-cart tandem—Jackson sat with his back to me.
ARCHIBALD JOHN JOCELYN . I am a bill discounter and accountant of 24, High Holborn, in the name of Wood—on January 2nd, Bird came to me and gave the name of Marjeson. (MR. BODKIN read the witness's deposition to him, to which he assented.)
Cross-examined. I am no money out of pocket, all I have lost is my time and my clerk's time, and 1d. on the stamp—I did not charge £1 1s. on the declaration, but I said he ought to pay it; if he had objected I should not have asked it—my fee is 18d.—he gave me an I O U for the guinea—he had the option of returning the £100 in a month with 10 per cent, for the month, if not he was to pay back at £17 10s. a month—that was £100 for £100 if he did not pay within a month—I told the police, and they acted on my instructions—I am the prosecutor—I am complaining of the attempt to defraud me—I said at the Police-court, "The prisoner Thompson is the man who came into the restaurant with Bird, I did not speak to him; he took no part in the conversation between me and Bird."
EDWARD BRYCE . I am Mr. Jocelyn's clerk—on 2nd January I went to get a bill stamp, and as I went out I saw the prisoner Thompson in the passage reading a newspaper—on Saturday, January 4th, a letter was given to me to deliver to Mr. Marjeson, The Cottage, South Hill, Teddington—I went to Teddington, but could find no such place.
ROBERT WHEELER . I am a barman at the Criadera Restaurant—I have seen the prisoners there, they were there on January 2nd and 3rd—they were together on the first occasion and part of the time on the second.
Cross-examined. For a minute or two—Bird went out, and Thompson remained two hours.
GEORGE WILLIAM BREWIS . Chesterford Park, Saffron Walden, is my property—I live at Eastbourne—I am a Justice of the Peace for Essex—five years ago I became acquainted with the two defendants—I understand they are brothers—their father had a shooting near me—I knew the father and mother as Captain and Mrs. Bird Thompson—they have said that they are relations of mine, but I wish to contradict it—I have never stayed at the Hotel Victoria—I never had an account at the Hanover Square branch
of the London and County Bank—this is not my signature to this blue bill, nor is this letter my writing—I received a letter from one of the defendants in May, 1889, which I answered, but not with my usual signature—the signature I then wrote corresponds to this bill.
Cross-examined. Their father took Walden Hall and the shooting, which is about ten minutes' walk from our boundary—I am not taking any proceedings with reference to the forging of my name.
JOHN EDWARD SMITH . I am a clerk at the Hotel Victoria—on Friday, January 3rd, Bird came there and said he wanted two rooms near each other for the Saturday; I showed him two, which he said would do; he entered his name as Brewis; no luggage was brought—the rooms were not slept in—a registered letter came for Brewis Bird; I signed for it—I am of opinion that the signature in the letter-book and on the letter are by the same person.
WILLIAM GEORGE SHENTON . I am head porter at the Hotel Victoria—on 4th January, in the afternoon, Thompson came there, and I saw him go to the register; I followed him, because I knew he was not a visitor at the hotel; I found him making inquiries, and left him—on Monday afternoon, January 6th, I saw him again; he brought a note for the manager, and I recognised him.
HENRY LOGAN . I am manager of the Hotel Victoria—on 4th January, Bird came and asked me for the loan of £5; I declined, and he said he could get it from his club—he gave his uncle's name, Mr. Brewis, Chesterford Park, Essex—I did not see him again—his uncle never stopped there that I know of—on Monday, 6th January, Thompson called to pay Mr. Brewis's bill for the two rooms; I had made it out in the name of Brewis, and gave it to him—he said he would go into the City and get the money—he asked if there were any letters for Mr. Brewis; there was one, but it was not given to him, we handed it to the police—when he left a constable followed him.
JOSEPH PAYNE (Policeman E). On 6th January, about 3.30, under the directions of Inspector Conquest, I went to the Hotel Victoria, and while there Thompson came in with a letter—he was shown into the manager's room, and the manager came out and showed me a letter signed Brewis—he went back, and Thompson came out, and I followed him to the Marquis of Granby, Chandos Street, Charing Cross, where I saw Bird in the bar, sitting at one of the tables—Thompson joined him, but before they could speak I arrested Bird, and said, "Mr. Brewis, I believe?"—he rose and said, "Yes"—I said I was an officer, and should arrest him for attempting to obtain £100—he said, "I know nothing whatever about it"—I asked Thompson to come with us to the station, not taking him in custody—they were put into different rooms at Bow Street, and subsequently charged.
Cross-examined. I had no warrant—Thompson accompanied us to the station in a cab—I did not arrest him—he heard me tell his brother that he would be charged with forgery and false pretences—Inspector Conquest charged them both about 7 p.m., and they were brought up next morning before the late Sir James Ingham.
JOHN CONQUEST (Re-examined). On 6th January, about four o'clock, I found both prisoners at the Police-station, and put them in separate rooms—I said to Bird, "I believe you are Mr. Brewis?"—he said, "Yes, that is not my right name"—I said, "Whit is your right name?"
he said, "Bird. "(The Witness's deposition was here read)—I went to Walton on-Thames—it is a small house which is let out—I found a letter sent by Mr. Wheatley at the post-office, as there was no such address in Walton—it was left there till they called for it—this is the hotel bill.
Cross-examined. I did not go to Ringmore Lodge, but inquiries were made there—I believe the prisoner's mother lives there.
WILLIAM RUSSELL MCNEIL . I am a clerk in the Hanover Square branch of the London and County Bank—I paid a cheque for £100, drawn on 3rd January, on the Holborn branch—I know Bird, I have seen him at our bank—the cheque was presented, and came back marked, "Orders not to pay."
Thompson's statement before the Magistrate: "I am entirely innocent of the matter, I never heard anything of the charge till I went to Mr. Wheatley, when he, Wheatley, mentioned it in a casual way."
THOMPSON, GUILTY of Conspiracy. Recommended to mercy by the JURY, believing him to be the tool of his elder brother.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
BIRD— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, March 7th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BROMBY Prosecuted, and MR. SALTER Defended Brown.
KATE SKITTER (the Prisoner). I have been a domestic servant—I have not been in service at Mrs. Rackstraw's, Manor Road, Holloway, but I know Elizabeth Gill, the cook, there—on Saturday, 1st February, between five and six, I met Brown and Louch in the Holloway Road, not far from the Manor Road—I knew Brown—he said, "Good evening," and shook hands, and asked if I would do him a kindness by changing a cheque, which was in his hand—he said, being Saturday, the banks were closed, and he could not change it until Monday—I think he asked me if I knew Mrs. Rackstraw's Christian name; I said I did not—he said he thought it was Mary—he said he had lived in the Devonshire Road, opposite to Mrs. Rackstraw; he knew her very well, and he asked if I knew whom she dealt with, and where she got her milk, and who was her butcher—I said I did not know, and then he asked me if I would go and ask Lizzie—I went to Mrs. Rackstraw's—they followed, and waited down the road—I asked Lizzie, and she said if Brown wanted to know let him go himself—I went outside and told him—I waited outside with Louch while Brown went in—then Brown came out, and we all three went to the Friern Manor Milk Farm Brown, I think it was, told me to take the cheque in and say it was for Mrs. Rackstraw, and get the change for it—the two men waited outside; I went in, gave this cheque, and got the change, £7 3s.—I had not written anything on it—I gave the money to Brown, who gave me 3s. out of it—he then asked me if I would change him another cheque; he said he knew Mrs. Rackstraw's butcher in the Seven Sisters Road, and asked me to go in and change it—Wright, I think, he said was the name
of the butcher—I went in; they would not change it—I went out and told Brown; he then, I think, took me into a paper-shop and asked me to write a letter—I went to two butchers' shops that day, the first was at the corner of Manor Road; I don't know the name of that one—I saw Lizzie twice; I went and saw her after I went to the first butcher's—the first butcher would not change it, because they did not think Mrs. Backstraw dealt there, and then Brown said would I go and ask Lizzie where she did deal—I went back and asked Lizzie, and she said she would not tell me; if Brown wanted to know, let him come himself—I told that to Brown, and he went back—he gave me the cheque before I went into the first butcher's, and then I returned it to him when I came out—I and Louch waited outside while Brown went to Lizzie—when he came out he asked me to go to the Friern Manor Road—we went to the butcher's after coming out of the milk-shop—I only went once to the milk-shop; we went first to the butcher's, and then to the milk shop after seeing Lizzie—we went to three shops, first to the butcher's who would not change the cheque, then, after going to Lizzie's, to the milk-shop, and then to another butcher's—I took the cheque for £7 3s. to the first butcher's, and afterwards changed it at the milk-shop—this cheque for £5 12s., which I think Louch handed to Brown and Brown gave to me, I took to the second butcher's at Seven Sisters Road. (This cheque was drawn on the London and South Western Bank to Mr. Hudson or H. Brown or order, signed Louch, and endorsed W. Hudson Brown and M. Rackstraw)—I went with it to the butcher's shop and told them I came from Mrs. Rackstraw, and asked them if they would change it for her—they said they could not change it because they could not recognise me as one of her servants—they gave me the cheque back, and I came out and crossed the road to where Brown and Louch were waiting, and said they would not change it—Brown told me to come down the road, and we went into a paper-shop, where he asked the man for a pen, ink, and paper—he got them, and then he told me to write down what he said—this is the paper—"Please oblige the bearer with change for me, and oblige M. Rackstraw"—after writing that I think I wrote this endorsement, "M. Rackstraw," on the back of the cheque; Brown asked me to put that there, I think—the cheque was put with the letter in an envelope then we went back to the butcher's shop in Seven Sisters Road; the two men waited on the other side of the road, and I went in—the people then read the note, and asked me if I was Mrs. Rackstraw's servant; before I went in Brown had told me I was to say I was her servant, and I said I was—they said they did not recognise me as her servant—I had a hat on—the boy who goes round to Mrs. Rackstraw for orders was asked, and he said he did not know me—the boy was sent with the money, to Mrs. Rackstraw's; they would not let me take it—I left the shop, and told Brown and Louch they would not give me the cheque or the money—Brown said it would be all right—I went back to 5, Manor Road, to Lizzie, of my own accord, because they said they would send the money and cheque by their boy; she said she knew nothing about it—I saw Brown and Louch go past outside when I was in inside—the butcher's boy got there at the same time that I did—he said he wanted to see Mrs. Rackstraw—Lizzie said could not she take it up to her—the boy said "No," he was to give it into Mrs. Rackstraw's hand—I left the boy talking with Lizzie, and went to Brown and
Louch, and told them what had happened—Louch said, "I can get the cheque back"—then they left me, having asked me to meet them that evening at half-past eight, I think, and Louch said he would go back with me to the shop to get the cheque—I met them at the Nag's Head—we stood on the other side of the road to the butcher's, and they asked me to go in—I did not; I stayed about for some time, and Louch came up and said if I did not go in he would fetch a policeman, but I would not go in, and then at last Louch went with me, and I said, "Would you be kind enough to give me the cheque back?"—they refused.
Cross-examined by Louch You were a stranger to me when I met you with Brown in the Holloway Road—I had never seen or spoken to you—you said nothing to me about cashing a cheque—when I came back from seeing Lizzie you said, "What have you done?" and I said, "I have put Mrs. Rackstraw's name on the back of these cheques"; you said, "Do you know what you have done? you will get us all locked up; if you don't get that cheque back I will call a policeman and have you locked up"—I was very frightened when you said that—when I came back from Mrs. Rackstraw's I went into a chemist's shop with Brown, and signed the £7 3s. cheque, it must have been—you were not in the chemist's shop when I signed it—I went to the milk-shop then with it, I think—they gave me £7 3s. for it, which I gave to Brown—he gave me 3s. out of it.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. I had last been a general servant at 4, Courtney Road, Drayton Park; I had left there three days—I had been there three months—a fortnight or three weeks before that I was at Pemberton Gardens—I was there six weeks; I only went to oblige a lady—before that I was at St. John's Park—I have known Lizzie Gill for eighteen months—about eighteen months ago I lodged with her at a private residence for servants; she was there about a week, and I for six or seven weeks—I was out of a situation then—my people live in the country—Louch hardly spoke a word to me on that day—I saw him and Brown together the next day, Sunday—Louch lived at Fonthill Road—I went home and slept with him on that evening—he told me there was a separate bedroom, and I might sleep there, and when I got there was only one bedroom—I stopped all night because I was so tired, or else I should not have done so; I came home next morning—that was the first time I had slept with a man—Louch tried to seduce me on that evening—I don't know whether he did—I had a home to go to, but not in London—I had lodgings in Rupert Road, Cromwell Road, since I left my last place, but I did not like them, and I told Louch I should not go back there—I cried, and said I had no home to go to; that was because I did not like my lodgings—I think when I made a statement to the Sergeant who arrested me on the 3rd that I told him nearly all the truth; I tried to—he did not hurry or frighten me—when I met Brown I had a conversation with him, and then went into a butcher's shop, where they refused to cash a cheque; then I went and had a conversation with Lizzie while the two men waited outside; after that Brown asked me to go to Manor Farm, and I went and cashed the £7 3s. cheque—I did not know when I first met the two men where Mrs. Rackstraw got her milk—I saw Lizzie first, and changed the £7 3s. cheque afterwards—before the Magistrate's inquiry I knew I had twice committed forgery in these transactions—I did not say a word to Mr.
Bromby about going into the chemist's shop and forging one of these endorsements, because I had forgotten it—I am certain I did it now you speak about the chemist's shop—I first spoke about it when Louch mentioned it just now—I handed the £7 3s. to Brown alone—I think I said to the policeman, "I handed the money to Brown and the other man"—when I handed the money Brown said, "I will buy you a pair of gloves"; Louch did not say so; I don't remember him saying anything—I think it was when I came out of the chemist's shop that Louch said, "What have you done?"—and I said, "I have just been putting Mrs. Rackstraw's name on the back of these cheques"; that was after I saw Lizzie, and before I went to the Friern Manor Farm Dairy—he did not say about us being locked up till after I had changed both cheques—it was before I went to the dairy and changed a cheque he asked what I had done, and I said I had signed Mrs. Rackstraw's name—I handed the £7 3s. to Brown in Louch's presence—the chemist's shop is against the Great Northern Hospital in the Holloway Road—an elderly gentleman was serving in the shop when I signed the cheque—Louch said nothing after I had changed the first cheque; if he had said anything I should not have changed the second one—Brown did not mention Louch's name when I first met them—I did not know the cheque was one of Louch's—I swear that when I came to where Lizzie is in service I did not say, "I am going to see if Lizzie is coming out to-night"; I knew she could not come out on Saturday night—I asked her who Mrs. Rackstraw's butcher was, and she would not tell me—she said when I asked her, "Bartlett's, Seven Sisters Road; it used to be Bartlett's, but it is not now, some one else keeps it"; she refused to tell me the right name—when Brown spoke to her, I and Louch were just outside the gate; he was down the area-steps, as far from us as I am from you—I could not hear what was said—Brown dictated the letter to me in the stationer's shop; I think there were one or two other customers in the shop—Louch was waiting outside; I don't remember his coming in the shop; he did not come in at the time; he might have come in afterwards; I did not notice it—I did not notice him in the shop at the time the letter was being dictated—I don't remember if he was in the shop—after we left the stationer's, and before we got to the butcher's, they were telling me to say I was Mrs. Rackstraw's servant—J think Brown told me that; I am not certain; I am sure Brown said it—I did not see anything of Louch after the Sunday evening till they were at the police-station—I saw Lizzie, Louch, and Brown on the Sunday night—I don't remember hearing Lizzie ask whose cheque it was, nor Louch saying, "It is my cheque, and it is all right," or words to that effect—Louch did not say, "It is no concern of anybody else's what I choose to do with my cheques," or words to that effect—I don't remember whether that was said or not.
Re-examined. We all three went to the stationer's shop, but I don't remember Louch coming in—all the time I was in the shop I was engaged in writing the letter and signing the cheque, and I did not take notice whether he came in or not—Lizzie said Mrs. Rackstraw dealt with a butcher in the Seven Sisters Road, but she would not tell me the name, but said Brown was to come and get it from her—that was all Brown was to come for.
straw, and live with her at 5, Manor Road, Holloway—these two cheques endorsed "M. Rackstraw" on the back and a letter signed M. Rackstraw are not in her handwriting—her name is not Mary—I know nothing of the three prisoners.
JAMES LEA . I am manager of the Friern Manor Dairy Farm, Limited, 533, Holloway Road—on 1st February, about six o'clock, Skitter came and asked me to change this cheque for Mrs. Rackstraw—she dealt with us, and I gave Skitter £7 3s., thinking it was for Mrs. Rackstraw; we had only one customer of that name—the cheque has not been cashed—I have not got the money for it.
EDWARD CROYSDILL . I am a cashier in the London and South Western Bank, Finsbury Park Branch—Louch opened an account there on September 10th, 1889—on 1st February he had £1 4s. 8d. to his credit—on 3rd February he came and said he had lost a blank cheque, with his signature attached to it, No. A 443,556. (This was the number of the cheque for £5 12s.) and asked me to stop it—this cheque for £7 3s., No. 443,574, has not been presented—the signatures on both cheques are Louch's—the body of neither of them is in his writing, I, should say.
Cross-examined by Louch. I have never before this had a cheque of yours presented unless there was sufficient to meet it.
By the COURT. £22 passed through his account, £12 paid in on 10th September and £10 on November 26th—there has been no transaction subsequent to December 31st.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am a stationer, of 546, Holloway Road—on 1st February the three prisoners came to my shop about four o'clock, or it might have been earlier the first time; they came twice—the first time one of them, I could not say which, bought a pennyworth of writing paper and envelopes, and one of them wrote something, and they went away—I cannot say if other customers were there at the time—about half-past seven I think they all three came in together, and wanted a sheet of paper and an envelope—it is a small shop, and with three people in it is crowded; I have a stall with toys outside, and I stood at the door while they were writing—I heard them say nothing to one another; something was written, and this blotting-paper was used; there is Louch's signature and the name of Rackstraw on it; I do not know who wrote—then they all went away—I could not say Brown ordered the goods—I could not say who did; all I remember is that on the second occasion Brown paid 2d., and I gave him 1 1/2 d. change—I could not say who paid on the first occasion.
Cross-examined by Louch. You were all three in the shop on the first occasion about half-past four, and you all three came in together on the second occasion—I have seen Mrs. Brown downstairs here—she and her solicitor have not been at me—I am positive you bought paper and envelopes twice—I don't know what you wrote—you did not speak to me in the shop—you were not talking to me at the door when you all three came.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. When they wrote something in the afternoon it was on one of my sheets of paper, but I cannot say what they wrote—it is not unusual for people to buy a small quantity of paper and envelopes, three or four a day do sometimes—I don't remember if Louch said anything to me on the second visit—one of them had a parcel under his arm—the writing was going on six feet
from me, I suppose—they were only there a couple of minutes perhaps—I don't think any customers came during that time; I could not be positive—I heard no conversation; what was done was done in silence; I could not have helped hearing it if there had been conversation.
Re-examined. I cannot say positively whether there was conversation or not; there may have been.
ELIZABETH GILL . On 1st February I was servant to Mrs. Rackstraw, of 5, Manor Road—I have since left there—I lodged with Skitter at a servants' home there used to be in the Holloway Road for those waiting for situations—I have known Brown for about four months—on 1st February, about half-past five, Skitter came down into the kitchen and said, "I have met that fellow and another man you know, I think his name is Brown; he has got a cheque that wants changing, and if you give me the name of the butcher where you deal in your mistress's name I think it will be all right"—I said, "Bartlett's, in the Seven Sisters Road; tell him to come himself"—I did not think he would come—the butcher had been Bartlett, but a fresh man had come whose name I did not tell Skitter—I said I would tell Brown if he came—Kate went away, and Brown came—I don't remember if Skitter told me what she had been doing before she came to me—she went away, and came back with Brown and Louch—she and Brown came to the door; I saw Louch outside—Brown asked me where the butcher we dealt with was; I said, "Wright, in Seven Sisters Road"—he had taken Bartlett's shop—I think Brown said he had a cheque he wanted changed—he said, "Do you think if I sent Skitter to change the cheque in Mrs. Rackstraw's name it would be all right"—I said, "Oh, you had better not"—he asked me if we had any old bill of any kind that wanted paying"—I told him the bills were all paid yesterday—they all three went away together—later on Skitter came back, and Wright's, the butcher's, boy came about the same time—she came in and shut the door, and he remained outside—she said, "Lizzie, you know nothing about it; I have been to try to change that cheque at the butcher; take the money, and say you will take it to Mrs. Rackstraw"—I was to say that to the boy who was outside the door; I thought what he was there for—she told me I was to take the money that she changed the cheque for—she said, "He has brought the money"—she did not say why—she said the butcher would change the cheque, but he would not let her have the money—I said I would not—I opened the kitchen door, and saw Brown and Louch outside the railings, and the boy was standing at the door—I spoke to the boy—he would not give me the money—I went back to Skitter, and said, "He won't let me have the money"—she said, "I wish I had not done it"—then I told the boy to take the money and the cheque back, "for, "I said, "Mrs. Rackstraw knows nothing about it"—Brown and Louch were a good bit off me while I was talking to the boy—Brown waved his hand to me; that is all I saw—Skitter went away—she came again afterwards, and said, "I have come to see if they have brought the cheque back; if they have not brought it back it will be all right, because Brown knows the foreman at the butcher's."
Cross-examined by Louch. You were a total stranger to me—you never spoke to me, nor I to you.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. I had been at Mrs. Rackstraw's three months and a fortnight when this happened; I had given notice to leave,
and my notice had a fortnight to rim—I did not stay my fortnight; I came away on the Monday, Mrs. Rackstraw said I had better go, she did not like it—I could see there was something wrong with the cheque when Skitter came back—I understood from her I was to give the money to her and not to Mrs. Rackstraw, when the boy had gone—I proposed to the boy to give me the money—I knew I was helping what was wrong Skitter did not hear what I said to Brown when they talked about the butcher; she said, "Here he is," and went away, and she and Louch stood outside the railings—there is a garden in front of the house—Louch did not speak to me—he did not say in my hearing, "It is my cheque, and it is all right"—I did not hear him say anything to Skitter about the cheque—I heard no talking about it—no one said in a joking way, "Shall I pay a bill for you?"—nothing was said about the cheque having nothing to do with Brown—I have known Brown about four months—I don't know he has money expectations, or that he was born and brought up in the neighbourhood of Holloway, or that his people have been there a great many years; I know nothing of him except as a casual acquaintance—I first knew something was wrong when Skitter and the butcher's boy came—nothing led me to suspect anything till the boy came.
MARY BEAVER . I am the wife of William Beaver, butcher, of Seven Sisters Road—the name of Wright is over the shop, and it is known as Wright's shop—Mrs. Rackstraw, of 5, Manor Road, is a customer—on the evening of 1st February Skitter came in and said, "Will you cash" or "change this cheque for Mrs. Rackstraw?"—I communicated with my husband, and he said to Skitter, "Are you Mrs. Rackstraw's servant?"—she said, "Yes"—he said, "Go and fetch a note from Mrs. Rackstraw"—she went away, and after about twenty minutes she came back with this note, "Please oblige the bearer with change for me, and oblige M. Rackstraw"—I did not think it was Mrs. Rackstraw's writing—I sent the money by one of our men—I said to Skitter, "Our young man doesn't recognise you as Mrs. Rackstraw's servant"—she said, "No, he would not know me; I am the housemaid; it is the cook he knows, the stout one"—I said, "How long have you been in Mrs. Rackstraw's service?"—she said three months—the young man went off with the cheque and money, and brought them back—I detained the cheque.
Cross-examined by Louch. Previous to that day I knew you to be employed serving in a boot-shop, six or seven doors from us in the Seven Sisters Road—you have served me with boots—I saw you there just before Christmas—I know nothing of your position—I thought you very un business like—I recognised you when I saw you at the station-house—I did not take you to be a sharp—some weeks before this occurrence your employer paid our account by cheque—there was nothing the matter with it.
Cross-examined by MR. SALTER. I have been about twelve months in Holloway—I don't know Brown or his family at all.
ELLEN BEAVER . I am the sister of Mr. Beaver, who keeps the butcher's shop—about ten o'clock on this evening Skitter came in with Louch, who said, "I have come for the cheque which this young lady left from Mrs. Rackstraw; she was very much annoyed at your detaining it"—he meant Mrs. Rackstraw by "she"—I heard my brother refuse to give up the cheque.
Skitter and Brown were arrested—I heard Skitter make a statement to Summers—on 4th February I arrested Louch in Fonthill Road, Finsbury Park—I told him I should take him into custody for conspiring with Skitter and Brown in obtaining £7 3s. from Mr. Lee, at the Friern Dairy Company, Manor Road, on 1st February—he said, "I have got into a pretty mess, I shall have to get out of it; Brown wrote the body of the cheques, and I signed them"—he was taken to the station—I found on him eightpence, a common watch and chain, and a cheque-book of the London and South-Western Bank, Finsbury Branch, containing five cheques.
Cross-examined by Louch. I had had occasion to speak to you previously, and I knew you to be in a good situation in the Seven Sisters Road within a week of this occurrence—I had previously cautioned you against Brown.
Re-examined. I don't know why he left his situation.
Louch, in a lengthy defence, said that all he had done had been at Brown's instigation, and without any intention on his part to defraud.
LOUCH— NOT GUILTY .
BROWN— GUILTY .
Brown then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in July, 1887.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
SKITTER was discharged on recognisances.
There were two other indictments against the prisoners: one for forging the endorsement on a cheque for £7 3s., and the other for conspiracy. No evidence was offered upon them as against Louch
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, March 8th, 1890.
Before Lord Chief Justice Coleridge.
MESSES. HORACE AVERY and MUIR Prosecuted; and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ESTHER ELIZABETH JANE GRAY . I am the wife of Robert Gray—we did live at 19, Grosvenor Street, St. Peter Street, Islington, I am now living at number 27, a few doors lower down—the deceased, Theresa Neal, was my daughter; she was 24 years of age on the 16th April last—she was the prisoner's wife; they were married on 25th November, 1883; they had five children, the youngest was five months and four days old; that was the only one they had with them—one was with Mr. Dawson, and the remaining three were with Mr. Beasley—there were six children, but only five were my daughter's—after the marriage they lived at different houses, and finally at 25, Parkfield Street, and then at 81, St. Peter Street, Islington—they lived very wretchedly together; they had terrible quarrels; he attempted her life twice, and he has repeatedly assaulted her; he cut her down with a large stick on several occasions—in October last I was witness of an assault by him upon her; she had only then been four weeks confined with her last baby; I attended her during her confinement—I was in the kitchen with the children; I heard words, and ran upstairs, and ran between them; he knocked me down, and threw her from the parlour into the passage, and then threw me on the top of her; he assaulted me with a large stick, and I prosecuted him
before the Magistrate, and he was sentenced to two months' imprisonment—while he was in prison his wife lived in the Buildings for a fortnight, then at Mr. Dawson's, and then at 16, Sekforde Street—a man named Day was the landlord of that house; he did not live there—my daughter did not take charge of the house for him; she had it on her own responsibility—when the prisoner came out of prison on 2nd December he went to live with her at 16, Sekforde Street; she was only there a week alone; I stopped with her and the children; there was nobody else in the house—then they moved to 25, Parkfield Street; they took part of the house, and Day, between the three of them—he lived at the top with them—on Friday, the 24th January, they moved into 81, St. Peter Street; they took one room there; they only slept there; they had their meals at my house, 19, Grosvenor Street—Day did not go to 81, St. Peter Street; he moved his things on the Monday—on 28th January they were at my house; I think they left about half-past one with the child in her arms—they appeared to be on good terms then—next morning at nine the prisoner came to my house; he walked up to the fire—my daughter was sitting in a chair; she got up to let him sit down—he warmed his hands and said, "It's a cold morning"—I said, "Is Tessie up?"—he said, "No; not yet"—I asked if she was coming in—he said, "She is not up yet"—I said, "Well, don't call her"—he took up a hammer which he had left in my charge on the Friday, and put it in his pocket, and said, "Have you got any tin-tacks?"—I said, "No"—he then left, and just as he got to the door he said, "I will tell her that breakfast is ready—I said, "Yes, do"—I had the table laid for breakfast at the time—I don't think he stopped five minutes in the house, and I don't think three minutes elapsed after he left when my boy came in and told me something, and I went and found my daughter lying in the street, pouring with blood—she only had her chemise on.
ELIZA WATERMAN . I am the wife of George Waterman, of 81, St. Peter Street, Islington—on Friday, 24th January, the prisoner and his wife came to lodge at our house—they occupied one room as a bedroom upstairs, the second floor front—about half-past nine on the morning of the 28th I heard the deceased give one cry of "Murder!" in their own room—on hearing it I went downstairs to the back kitchen to a lodger, and asked her to mind my little boy while I fetched the police—I did not go upstairs—I met Mrs. Neal coming down on the first flight of stairs leading to the passage—she was in her night-dress, smothered in blood—she went to the street door—I tried to hold her back—the prisoner came from behind me, and as he passed ho pushed us both out of the street door into the street, saying, "They have robbed me enough"—Mrs. Neal walked a few paces, and thon fell in the street—the police came up, and after a time she was taken to the hospital—the prisoner was wearing a low felt hat like this (produced).
Cross-examined. The first time I saw the deceased was on Monday night, 27th January—I don't remember seeing the prisoner then—she was moving some furniture out of the room—she said, "I have too many things for the room, and I am soiling some of thorn."
wall like someone knocking up against it, and I heard the woman scream "Murder!" two or three times—it sounded as if the man had got her on a bedstead, pressing her down, but it must have been knocking her against the wall, struggling very hard—the screams were very loud—it was a woman's voice—the noise still continued after that—I did not hear anything said, I did not hear a second voice, I only heard the woman scream "Murder!" that was all—I took up a little poker and knocked inside the cupboard with it as well as I could against the wall; it was a thin part of the wall, and sounded most there; the knocking still continued up against the wall, I did not hear a word said—I knocked several times as hard as I could—I heard her say, "Oh, Bill, don't kill me, I love you, I love you with all my heart!"—she shrieked "Murder!" once after that, and I knocked and I heard no more, the sounds ceased—I then heard the street door give a bang, shut rather hard, and then I heard the woman in the street cry "Help! "I opened the window and looked out, and saw the poor woman on her knees with her right hand up—she was bleeding very much—she was in her night-dress.
THOMAS RYLAND (Policeman N 135). About ten minutes past nine, on the morning of 28th January, I was called to 81, St. Peter Street, I found the deceased lying on the footway in her night-dress, bleeding from a wound in the throat—I did my best to stop the bleeding while another constable went for a doctor, and then I took her to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
THOMAS WILLIAM HARLE . I am a M. R. C. S., of 28, Essex Street, Islington—on 28th January, shortly after nine in the morning, I was called to see the deceased—I found her lying on the pavement outside 83, St. Peter Street; she was bleeding very much from a wound on the left side of the neck, likewise bleeding from the mouth and nose—the wound was on the front and side, not far from the main artery; I immediately saw the great danger she was in, I placed my finger down the opening of the wound and arrested the flow of blood from the mouth, and then put her in a cab, keeping my finger down the opening till we got to the hospital, where I left her in charge of the house surgeon.
CHARLES HENRY COZENS . I am house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on 28th January the deceased was brought there, and given into my charge; she was insensible and collapsed—I saw that she had been bleeding profusely from a wound in the throat; it went right down into the pharynx—after she was taken into the ward I made a further examination—I found a wound on the right side, near the sternum, just underneath the breast; an incised wound in the upper part of the left arm, and one on the left shoulder; the last two were incised, that in the neck was a puncture, and that under the breast—she continued alive for about two hours, and then died—on the following day I made a postmortem—I found an incised wound in the neck, an inch and a half long on the loft side; there was a free oozing of blood from it; it extended right into the pharynx and wounded the opposite wall of the pharynx—the wound under the right breast was a punctured wound, running down to the bone, and the bone itself was marked by the knife, showing that it had been given with a great deal of force; if it had gone between the ribs it would probably have been fatal; it would have entered the lungs—I fancy the two wounds on the arm might have been caused at the same time as the stab in the neck, when she had her arm up; they
might have been caused by the flat of the knife at the same time hearing that the police had found a hammer, I examined her very carefully, I found a very small graze on the head, but that was certainly of a previous date to the 28th—I found no mark that would be produced by a blow from the hammer, either on the head or any part of the body—both the stab wounds must have been given with considerable force this knife would produce the wounds—there are no marks on it now, I took them off before I tested them; the knife was sent to me for analysis on 17th February—at that time there was a stain; there is some sign of it now, about half-way up the blade, a smear of blood—I found several blood stains on the hat produced by the police.
Cross-examined. I have mentioned all the marks of violence I saw on the body.
EDWAKD BEASLEY . I am a gunmaker of 186, Quin's Buildings, Islington—I knew the deceased and the prisoner—I had charge of three of their children—I knew Harry Day slightly—I have seen him and the deceased together in company with the prisoner, and on one occasion only I have seen her and Day together—the prisoner has complained to me of his wife's conduct, but not about Day—he has threatened her—on one occasion he came into the Pied Bull public-house; that was on Thursday, 23rd January—he asked if I had seen his wife—I said, "No; I have not seen her to-day"—he said, "God blind and punish me, if I catch the b——pair I will settle them!"—I suppose he meant Day—he left shortly after, and said he would go and try and find her—on the Sunday following, the 26th, the deceased and her sister were at my house; they came to see the children, who were in my charge—I went out to fetch some beer, and saw the prisoner standing outside in the passage—I said, "Are you not going in?"—he said, "No; she will give me the slip"—I went and fetched the beer, and when I came back he was still there—I persuaded him to come in, and he did, into the room where his wife was—during the time she had occasion to leave the room, and the prisoner followed her out, and returned with her.
Cross-examined. The deceased placed the three children with me—we were to have twelve shillings a week—she paid me; I always looked to her for the money, not to the prisoner—I knew Day slightly by using the same public-house, only for a few days or a week before—I had known him for a month, I daresay—I did not know him when the prisoner was in prison—I knew where he lived then—I don't know where he lives now—I don't know what occupation he followed—I heard that he was a brothel-keeper—the prisoner never complained to me about his wife and Day; not by name—I knew he meant Day—the time I saw Day and the deceased together was at half-past seven on the Saturday night before this Monday, at the corner of the City Road; they were chatting together—I did not watch them—I went to meet them with my missus By arrangement; the deceased sent for us to meet them, to go and pawn something, earrings belonging to her; my missus did it—I saw the prisoner at my house on the Sunday night; when I saw the three together no undue familiarity took place—Day did not appear more familiar with the wife than the husband; they were simply on friendly terms; Day appeared quite as friendly with the prisoner as with the deceased—I had been told by my wife that the prisoner was jealous or Day—I don't think I ever told that to the prisoner—I heard that Day
had put the deceased into one of his houses while the prisoner was in prison—I don't know where Day is; I have not seen him to-day—I saw him at the Police-court—I believe the police know him very well—I can't say whether he was at the inquest—the prisoner appeared to be terribly upset when he talked about his wife's conduct—he has complained to me more than once about his wife's conduct with other men—he certainly was very jealous of her—I heard that some of the furniture had been sold.
ANNIE MARSH . I live at 186, Quin's Buildings, Essex Road, Islington—I knew the prisoner and deceased, also Harry Day—I know them all living in the same house in Parkfield Street—I helped move their things from there to St. Peter Street—one evening I called at 25, and saw the prisoner—I asked where Mrs. Neal was—he said she had gone out, where he did not know, and he said, uttering oaths, "If I thought she was deceiving me I would put this right through her"; at the same time producing this pocket knife—the blade was open—I said, "Don't be silly, you know your wife is true to you"—on the Sunday night before her death they came to my place together with her sister—they were very comfortable and happy together, only he would not allow her to go outside unless he went with her—one evening, I could not say which, Mrs. Neal and her sister went to the Britannia Theatre—at the same time Day was in the house with the prisoner—it was within eight days of her death—he said if he thought she had been to the theatre with Day he would well hit her, he would lay her dead, using filthy language.
Cross-examined. He said he would lay her dead if he thought there was anything wrong—that was the expression I made use of at the Police court—I have not mentioned all the threats the prisoner used, because previously I had saved her life twice—all he said about the Britannia was that he would lay her dead, not that he would hit her—I am sure I said "lay her dead" at the Police-court—he called her a cow—he was not at work or doing anything when he showed me the knife—he was sitting in a chair—he took it from his pocket and opened it—I have known these people five or six years—I knew the prisoner when he was in prison—three of the children were sent to Mr. Beasley, and the lodging was broken up, and the wife went somewhere else—I visited her when he was in prison—she was then living in Britannia Road, Essex Road—I don't think any rent was paid, because the brokers were put in—the prisoner put the furniture in at Britannia Road—I can't answer whether that house was a brothel—Day was never there, he was the landlord, he was landlord of two houses, he was not a brothel-keeper to my knowledge, I have only known him since about Christmas—I think he put her into that house, Mr. and Mrs. Neal together, as soon as he came out he went there, she furnished the house with his furniture—Day did not live there, he was there—the prisoner spoke of being jealous of Day on several occasions—he was jealous of everyone, no matter who spoke to his wife.
Re-examined I saw the prisoner the day he came out of prison, and he went there to his wife—Day did not live in that house, he had another house round the corner—the prisoner and his wife stayed together about a month after he came out of prison; they moved from there to Parkfield Street—Day lived in the same house there; he and his daughter occupied the top floor.
STEPHEN BARCLAY . I am a furniture dealer, at Islington—I knew the prisoner and his wife—on 28th January, about eleven in the forenoon, the prisoner came to me (before that the police had called at my house); I asked him what he had been doing, that the police had been there after him, and he must have been doing something very serious for the police to be after him—I put the question to him again, and then he said he had been having a row with the old woman, and hit her with the hammer—I said, "That is very serious, you know what you have done, and if it is very serious I should advise you to give yourself up to the police"—we then went out together, and he said he would, he would go and see his boy that a party was minding, meet me again, and he would do so—he said he would be half an hour—I waited an hour, but he did not come.
BENJAMIN DAWSON . I am a furniture dealer, at Islington—I have known the prisoner and his wife for the last three years—I have lately had charge of one of his children, a boy named George, five years of age—on 28th January, about twelve o'clock, the prisoner came to my house—I said, "Good morning, what brings you down here?"—he said, "I have come to see my boy, and bid him good-bye"—the boy was present; he kissed him—I said, "What have you been doing?"—he said, "I have had a row with the old woman"—I said, "It is nothing serious, is it?"—he said, "Oh yes, it is; I shall never see you any more, I have been to Steve's (Barclay's), and he tells me the police have been after me, but I don't believe it, it is only my mother"—I said, "Well, what have you been doing?"—he said, "I have hit the old woman on the head with the hammer; I will go and see my children, and then I will give myself up; good-bye, and good-bye for ever"—and he shook hands and went away.
Cross-examined. The boy had been with me about three months—the prisoner did not come to see him frequently, I only saw him about every fortnight—I know Day, he was the landlord of 16, Sekforde Street; that is not a brothel to my knowledge, I have been there—I have not seen Day there—I was there while Neal was in prison—Day never lived there, I saw Mrs. Neal there—Day let the house out in tenements, not for anything else—he let the house to Mrs. Neal—I have never seen him there—I have seen him with Mrs. Neal once or twice, not while her husband was in prison.
CHARLES HUNTLEY (Policeman J R 36). At a quarter-past ten on the night of 28th January I was on duty in Ball's Pond Road with another constable—I saw the prisoner walking along on the opposite side of the road—I followed him to 205, Ball's Pond Road, a tobacconist's—I followed him into the shop and said, "I shall arrest you for the wilful murder of your wife to-day"—he said, "I don't know what you mean; I don't know anything about if—I took him to Dalston Police-station, and searched him—I found on him this three-bladed pocket-knife, it was closed; I opened it, and found marks of blood on the largest blade—Inspector Tyler came to the station, and the prisoner was handed over to his custody.
JOHN TYLER (Police Inspector N). In consequence of what I heard on the morning of 28th January, about eleven, I went to the second floor front room of 81, St. Peter Street—there was a bed on the floor, against the wall of the next house, 83—there was a quantity of blood on the top sheet, at the head part of the bed, also a quantity of blood on the floor,
just at the foot—there was also a quantity on the wall, as if it had been spurted, about two feet above the bed, near the head—just behind the door I found the bloody prints of a hand—I found this hammer in the room, lying on one of the chairs, about a yard or a yard and a half from the bed; there was a stain of blood on the handle—that same night, about eleven, the prisoner was handed over into my custody at the Dalston Police-station—I told him he would be charged with the murder of his wife—he replied, pointing to Huntley, "That is what he tells me"—I conveyed him to the Police-station in Upper Street, Islington—the charge was entered, and read over to him—he then said, "I ain't guilty"—the knife was handed to me by Huntley—I saw stains of blood on it—the prisoner was wearing this hat—I saw the stains on it—I called the prisoner's attention to them, and on the knife, and told him they were blood stains—I talked very loud to him, as he is very deaf—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He had no one to represent him at the Police-court, nor before the Coroner—he was not called before the Coroner—he is exceedingly deaf—the greater part of the evidence before the Coroner was shouted out at him—it was about eleven when I went into the room—two hours had elapsed since the woman had been taken to the hospital—there were lodgers in the house—the place was in great confusion—this is a usual carpenter's hammer—whether any person had been into the room in the interval I could not say.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I have got nothing to say, and I have no witnesses; my witnesses have all turned my enemies."
GUILTY — DEATH .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, March 8th, and Monday, March 10th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
WILLIAM BAKER . I am a shoe manufacturer, of Northampton—about the middle of last July Lester called at my place, and handed me a card bearing the names of "Mears and Lester, Factors and Agents, 13, Bow Lane, London, E. C.; cash advanced on consignments for sale"—it was similar to this (produced)—he said they were shipping agents, and were doing a large business in the shipping line—he ordered £13 10s. worth of boots—on 23rd July I went up to 13, Bow Lane, where I saw the prisoner—it was a small office, stocked principally with boots—"Mears and Lester "was on the glass door—I told the prisoner who I was, and he said he had heard of me through Lester—he said they were doing a tolerably good business in the shipping line, and he introduced a strong nailed boot to me, and asked what I
thought of it—I told him I thought it a very good boot, but rather rough—he then said they wanted someone to manufacture a smarter nailed boot, and asked me if I could introduce them to a house—he said, when we were alone, that Lester did the buying principally, and that he, the prisoner, was the principal partner who found all the cash—Lester came in and looked at my samples, and then gave me an order for £44 2s.(produced) written by the prisoner—I executed the order, and sent it off from Northampton, on 30th July, to 13, Bow Lane—for the first order I received a cheque post-dated two or three days, which was met—for the second I received a bill at two months, which was met—in August Lester came to my factory at Northampton, and gave me another order, which he said he wanted for shipping agencies—they were principally made in sample dozens for shipping agents—I showed him eighteen pair of men's Bals split and forty pair of men's military, which I had in stock, which he ordered to be sent on—he said he hoped we should do a large business together, as he could sell any quantity of these low-priced boots—he said they were cash transactions as a rule—the third order was for £27 12s. 6d.—I executed it, and consigned them on 29th August, and sent an invoice similar to this (produced)—this is a sample of the forty pair of split at 4s. 3d., and these are the military (produced)—I received a bill in respect of this order, dated 17th September, at two months, "Accepted, payable at the Union Bank of London, Limited; accepted, Mears and Lester"—I had no further transactions with Lester—on 21st November I received this letter, the bill falling due on the 20th:—"13, Bow Lane, London, E. C. November 21st, 1889. Memorandum from Mears and Lester (Mears scratched out). To Mr. W. Baker, Northampton. Dear Sir,—I have been about Northampton for the last few days, and forgot to leave cheque for your bill due yesterday. Of course, you understand since the dissolution the account of Mears and Lester has been closed, and transferred to me only; and when a bill is due to the old firm I must put in cheque for same. Please let me know at once who holds the bill, and I will forward draft for the same lam very sorry for this," etc.—"H. LESTER. "—I telegraphed, "Your letter to hand; send bank draft on immediately"—I think Lester telegraphed to the bank, and I again telegraphed to Mears and Lester that I had the bill, and to send bank draft by next post without fail, to which I received no answer—on the following Monday, 25th November, I went to London, and to 13, Bow Lane, where their name was still up; I found a small boy there, and the office in a very indifferent state; there were a few pairs of boots and some empty cases or cartoons—I went the next morning at nine, and stayed till ten, when the small boy came—I waited till one o'clock, when the boy went to dinner—Lester and another gentleman came in; Lester said, "Hallo, Baker! how are you?"—I said "Better in health than in temper"—"Oh," he said, "I will talk to you in a minute"—we went outside the office, and he said, "Have you come up this morning?"—I said, "You know I have not"—"Oh," he said, "you were up yesterday?"—I said, "You know when"—he said, "I sent your cheque on last night for that bill to the bank"—I asked him to show me the counterfoil in his cheque-book to convince me—he refused—I asked him for his private address, and he said he would not be dictated to, and would not tell me—I then telegraphed to my wife, to which I received a reply—I went
back to Bow Lane—Lester was not there, and I saw no more of him—I parted with the goods because they met their bill the month previous, and met the cheque on the first occasion—I was under the impression that they were shipping agents in all the transactions.
Croat-examined. I cannot read writing very well—I believe the £13 10s. transaction was a post-dated cheque—I had not known Lester before—he represented that he understood the boot and shoe trade—you can tell as a rule by the way they handle them—I only saw Mears once—I joined in the prosecution—the solicitor at Northampton was Mr. Phillips, of Pugh and Phillips—Franklin, Vicars, and Fairey joined—the first examination took place on 4th December—I saw Mears once before the prosecution was launched—I was in Court at the hearing on 23rd December, and allowed my solicitor to apply for a month's adjournment—we were not consulted—I left the matter in Mr. Phillips' hands, in whom I had every confidence—on 4th January I saw the prisoner alone at my house, 52, St. Andrew Street, Northampton—he stayed about an hour—I saw him again on the 11th—I do not know that he had supped with Franklin the night before—on 14th January there was a meeting at Franklin's house, of Franklin, myself, and Vicars—I did not hear it said that the man we wanted to punish was Lester, and if Mears would pay £30 and costs the prosecution would be withdrawn—there was something said about payment and withdrawing the case, and that the person they wanted to punish was Lester—Mears asked whether, if he paid eight shillings in the pound and expenses, we would withdraw—that was on the 11th—there was no statement as to costs; a rough sum of £30 was mentioned—we did not agree to it—we told him we could not settle the matter in that way, but we would consult our solicitor, and let him know further on—I believe a solicitor from London, representing Mears, saw Mr. Phillips at Northampton on the 13th, and on the 18th Mr. Phillips communicated to us that eight shillings in the pound and £50 costs had been suggested—we did not object—I was told that bonds would be deposited, when the month had expired, by Mears or his friends, to secure payment of the eight shillings in the pound and £50 costs—I was in Court when Mr. Phillips applied to the Mayor and Bench to further adjourn the hearing of the charge for fourteen days—I believe he made the application before I was informed of the bonds—on 31st January I attended a meeting of the prosecuting creditors at Mr. Phillips's office—Franklin, Fairey, and the two Vicars were there—one of us said to Mears, "We must have cash for £50, the bonds will not do"—he said he had got £30; I don't remember his saying it was from the sale of his furniture—he said he would raise the other £20 by the following Monday morning, and the £30 was paid to my solicitor, for which he gave a receipt—I never saw the bonds; I heard the £20 had been paid as arranged—he wrote something, but I could not see what—I was informed during the day that Mears had drawn two bills—I believe the Bench said they should have to consult the Public Prosecutor—I did not see the bills, or know that my name appeared on them till last Thursday—the case was further adjourned from the 3rd to 12th February—subsequently the £50 and the two bills were returned to Mears, and a committal took place in consequence of the interference of the Public Prosecutor—I did not hear Phillips state that Lester was the guilty man, and that Mears was his dupe—I
did not assault Lester on 26th November, and fling him from one end of the room to the other—I should have liked to have done so—I called him a vagabond—I was very angry—I never saw Mears after that—I thought it was better to have £100 than perhaps have to pay £100—Lester said Mears had the capital in the business—I believe the bills were signed by Mears—this is the order that Mears wrote out in my presence at Lester's dictation—I believe I kept possession of this until I produced it before the Mayor on 16th December—Mears said he was accustomed to cloth goods—I heard that Lester knew more about boots than Mears did.
Re-examined. I first saw Mears alone on 23rd July, when he said they were shipping agents in the boot and cloth trade, which I believed, and forwarded the goods accordingly—the prisoner was charged with obtaining goods by false pretences and conspiracy—the proposal fop a settlement originated with one of us—I mentioned it to my solicitor, and he was willing—I heard it stated that the Public Prosecutor had undertaken the prosecution—I lost the whole of the £26 5s.—some suggestion of part payment was made to us—I have not received any offer from the prisoner since his committal from Northampton.
DAVID FRANKLIN . I am a boot manufacturer, of Northampton—on 5th September I went to 13, Bow Lane, and saw a man said to be Lester—he said they were large shipping agents, large cash buyers—he showed me some samples, and he gave me an order for £13 1s.—I next went there on 30th September, when I saw Lester, and he introduced Mears to me as his partner—they then had a little conversation—Mears said, "I suppose you want your money?"—I said, "Yes, sir; I am always open to it," and he gave me a cheque, ready made, for the £13 1s.—after some bargaining I said them 144 pairs of boots at 5s. 6d. for cash, £40 5s.—I went back, and pushed the order on, and on 3rd October I received a telegram from them, and sent the goods off the same day—the cash did not arrive—Lester came to Northampton on 14th October; he did not pay me any money, but gave me orders amounting to £60—I said, "How about the cash for the others that you have not paid?"—he said, "Oh, you can have the cash; when do you want it? you have only to ask; when you want it you can have it"—I said, "I have a very heavy engagement to meet on the 26th, and must have £50 at least"—he said, "You can have it" and he entered it in his cash-book—that order was fulfilled by my consigning part of the goods on 15th October, and the remainder of them on 21st October, to Mears and Lester—down to 21st October I had not received any document tending to show any dissolution of partnership between them, but on 26th I received a letter from the firm, about the money he was to pay me on the 25th—I saw Lester on 19th November, when ho gave me a further order for £16 10s., which I executed—I asked him about the money; one bill was due in about eight days for £50—he sent me the bill because he had not got the cash, rather than disappoint me—I said, "There is another £50 due; what are you going to do with that?"—he said, "I will give you a short bill for the remainder, and those goods you send to-day; you shall have a cheque on Saturday; I parted with all my cash; we have been dissolving partnership, and have had a lot of trouble over it, and I have paid my partner about £300; had I known you wanted the money so particularly I would have paid you instead of my partner"—I supplied
goods to them between 30th September and 19th November to the amount of £122 12s., for which I have not been paid—I believed their statements—I traced some of the goods, through the police, to Ullman's, pawnbrokers, in the Borough, and Volf's and Whitcomb's, 144 pairs, and since I have been here I have traced another 72 pairs to Shaw—I have not traced the consignment of 15th October.
Cross-examined. I did not know Lester as representing Nicholls—Nicholls was a stranger to me till 5th September, when I called on him and took an order for £12, for which I got a cheque on the 30th—I don't know whether it was Lester's, or Mears and Lester's—Lester was spokesman after speaking to his partner—some people call a fortnight prompt cash, and some take three weeks, and some four or five weeks—it varies almost as the customer chooses to make it—I received a bill at one month on 25th October for the £50 I wanted (produced)—I never saw Mears after 30th September until he was before the Magistrate—Mr. Baker was the first to move in the prosecution, and I joined him—we employed Mr. Phillips as solicitor—he did not tell us the false pretences consisted of the shipping agency—Lester told me to be careful how I packed the goods, as shippers were very particular, and they must be very clean and nicely packed—he said, "You will see to that, won't you?"—I said, H Yes," and Mears said, "Yes; he will see to it"—we consulted Mr. Phillips on 23rd October—I believe he procured a warrant—I believe Mears has been present at the pledging or selling of some of the goods—I arranged to meet Mr. Baker on the Friday after 4th January—I did not make a special journey to Euston—I never told the prisoner I believed him to be innocent, and wanted to punish the other man—I said I wished we could have him and the others connected with it—I did not have supper with him, I went to his brother-in-law's house and had supper, but not with him—the prisoner did not invite me, nor did I suggest it—his brother-in-law asked me to go and see his poor old father—I had some Jewish fish and whisky—they told me the old man was at the Synagogue—I told him he had better come to Northampton and see the prosecutors—on 4th January the prisoner came to my office—I said, "Whatever do you do here? What-right have you here?"—he said, "Look here, old fellow, I am going to employ Sir Henry James or Mr. Lockwood, and it will cost me £500"—I did not know on 11th January that terms had been proposed of 5s. in the pound and £30 costs; it had not been proposed to my knowledge; Mr. Mears offered to pay us instead of paying counsel, which would have come to 13s. in the pound—I do not think Mr. Phillips was standing out for 8s. in the pound and £50 costs—£30 in cash and £20 the following Monday was proposed with my consent, on the understanding if the thing could be done honourably without defeating the ends of justice—I saw him sign two bills in Court while the Bench had gone out—George Henry Smith is in my employment, he lives in Barton Terrace—I did not pay him for sending a telegram to Mears, saying that unless £100 was paid on Monday there would be no surrender—I never knew that it was sent, and never asked anyone to send it—we expected more than £100—I saw the receipt for £30—the refusing to refund the £50 was discussed between four of us—we told Phillips to do what was right until somebody told him what to do with it, and he asked the Mayor of Northamp
ton, who would not advise him—I did not hoar him refuse to give it back, I was not in Court—I cannot say whether I concurred with the three other gentlemen in refusing to give the money back; I was not asked—my instructions to him were not, "Don't break the law, but don't give up the money if you can help it"—it was in the street, and there was a lot of talk.
Re-examined. I had confidence in Mr. Phillips, because he said he would do what was right the arrangement was that £100 was to be paid, £50 between the creditors, but the solicitor never told me who the other £50 was to go to; it was to go among the lot of us—I received this letter with the bill on 19th October; it is signed "Pro Lester and Co.," and that of 25th October is signed "Harry Lester"—I met Shaw at Bow Lane on 15th September, and was introduced to him by Lester—I received this letter on 6th September, purporting to come from Bray, Shaw, and Co., 21, Paternoster Square:—"Dear Sir,—Our Mr. Shaw informs us he had the pleasure of meeting you on Wednesday last in tow city, when he mentioned we were open for manufacturing agencies."
THOMAS PETIT . I am employed by Pickfords at Northampton, and have been in the habit of taking goods for Mr. Baker to the railway station—on 29th August I took four cases of goods there from him, and left them there.
CHARLES HENRY STANLEY . I am a clerk at the Broad Street Station of the L. and N. W. Railway—on August 31 three cases were there, of which Baker, of Northampton, was consignor, and Mears and Lester consignees—I apprised them of the arrival by postcard, which was returned on September 5 marked: "Please deliver to bearer. J. M. "; and I handed them over that day.
HENRY TAYLOR . I am a checker at the Castle Station, Northampton—on October 3rd a man named Ascul brought two cases, consigned from Franklin to Mears and Lester, 13, Bow Lane, London—this is the consignment note—I sent them on to Broad Street, London.
BAGLEY. I am a carman at Broad Street Station—I produce a delivery-sheet of goods consigned to Mears and Lester from Franklin, of Northampton, which I took from Broad Street Station on 5th October to 13, Bow Lane, and saw two gentlemen in the office; one of whom signed the sheet, "H. Lester"—he said, "We want them delivered at South, Son and Whitcombs, Bishopsgate Avenue," speaking so that the other man could hear—I took them there, delivered thorn, and was paid the carriage there—they wore not taken off my van at Bow Lane.
Cross-examined. The two cases weighed eight hundredweight—I cannot say that the prisoner was the second man, or whether the other was Loster—I will not say that this is not the man. (A man named Gronard.)
Re-examined. I do not recognise Gronard.
WALTER ALEXANDER RUSSELL . I am a commercial traveller of 15, Hatcham Road, Old Kent Road—I travel for shoo manufacturers at Northampton, and, among others, for Mr. Fairey—early in July Lester and I came up in the train from Northampton—I had known him eight years, and said, "How are you getting on?"—he said, "Very well," and
that he had a partner, and he showed me his cheque-book, and said he had put £1,000 in the bank—I believed that, and in October I went with Mr. Brockett to 13, Bow Lane, and introduced him to Mears, who had been introduced to me by Lester, about July 5th or 6th, as his partner—(Mears heard himself so described, and shook hands with me)—Lester was not there—Mears said he was buying goods at Northampton and showed me some of Franklin's goods, which he was buying, and I submitted samples of boots to him—Lester came in, and they both examined the goods—an order was given to Mr. Brockett for £147 worth, and I saw Mears write it—we four then adjourned to a restaurant and had refreshment, and then went to the Alhambra—no order was given to me that day—later on in the same month I met Lester in Cannon Street, and went with him to the office, and saw Mears—I showed my samples; he looked at them and said they would suit a certain party, and asked if my firm was in a position to make a quantity—I said, "Yes," and Mears gave me this shipping order, amounting to £63, and handed a boot to Lester, saying that it would suit Mr. So-and-so—I think Lester wrote the order, and took a copy of it in the copying-book—I asked them the terms—Mears said they were in a condition to pay cash, and would take £5 off for a month—I agreed to those terms for my principal, and forwarded the order to Mr. Fairey for execution—I believed the statement made to me on 16th October, or should not have forwarded the order—that was the only transaction I had with them—in November I went to 13, Bow Lane and saw a lad and four or five men, but neither Mears nor Lester—there were two empty cases, some odd boots, and sundry articles in the office—I have not seen Lester since 16th October, nor did I see Mears before his arrest; some of the boots supplied under this order I sent straight to Bow Lane, and from there to Camomile Street, to different purchasers—at the end of November I was able to trace my principal's boots—I went to Felman's in Camomile Street, took hold of a pair and said, "These are Mr. Fairey's goods; "I found twelve pair on that occasion, 144 pair altogether—the whole of the boots sold to Messers. Salmon were my employers', the invoice prices varied from 4s. 3d. to 4s. 6d.
Cross-examined. Lester told me in the train that a partnership existed—Mears and I kept together at the Alhambra during the evening, and Mr. Brockett and Lester kept together—Mr. Brockett was only there once with me, but I was there five times—I knew Lester with Mr. Nicholls, an auctioneer in Aldgate, eight years ago, but never had any business transactions with him except this.
Re-examined. I asked Mears how long he had known Lester—he said a number of years—I said, "He tells me you are his partner and the principal, and have put money into the firm"—he agreed.
JOHN FAIREY . I am a shoe manufacturer, of Northampton—the last witness is my agent in London—on 17th October I received this order from Mears and Lester through Russell—I executed it, and consigned it in detachments by the Midland Railway—I sent part on November 5th, addressed to Mears and Lester, 13, Bow Lane, with an invoice made out to Lester—I sent another parcel on the 12th, and a third on the 18th—the first parcel was sent to Mears and Lester, and afterwards Lester turned up and explained to me that he was responsible for the other parcels—up to that time I had heard nothing about a dissolution of partnership—Lester came to
Northampton between the 5th and the 12th, and told me something about an impending dissolution of partnership, and said he would be responsible for the rest of the goods, and they were consigned to his name alone, and of course that aroused my suspicions—I have never been paid for any of these goods.
Cross-examined. The first order is initialled by Lester, and is in his writing, and stamped with his initials, "H. L."—I saw him at Northampton twice—he said whether the partnership was dissolved or not he would pay for the goods in eight days—the total amount was £63 16s.—the whole of my goods have been traced—Mr. Baker gave information on a Thursday or Friday, and I joined him in the prosecution on the Monday following—I remember an adjournment for a month being asked for—I did not suggest 5s. in the £, and 30s. costs; if Mr. Baker swears I did, he is wrong—I did not bargain for £50 costs and £50 for the creditors; it did not emanate from the prosecution—I was consulted about the bonds not being so good as money, and the £30 being introduced on Saturday, and the £20 being received on Monday, and about the man being asked to allow the prosecution to be withdrawn—I did not know that the receipts were given back—the money was not to be retained unless it was lawful to retain it—I did not tell my solicitor as long as he did not break the law he had much better stick to the money—I was present when it was refused—I do not know that it was paid back the next day, and the bills given up; that is the only time I was absent—I may have said that it should be 8s. in the £, 5s. was not enough—I was not at Mr. Vigor's house; I do not know where he lives—I should say that 5s. in the was not enough for a swindle of this kind—I would agree to the withdrawal of the prosecution provided we had authority; had I known as much as I know now I should not have entered upon it—I want to get the £50 and £50 for costs, and twice that sum.
Re-examined. Only with the Magistrate's sanction I was willing; everything clean and above board for me—I was present when the prisoner asked for an adjournment for a month that he might remove the case by certiorari, and it was granted.
JOHN JOSEPH BROCKETT . I am a boot and shoe maker, of Queen Street, Northampton—on 2nd October I was with Mr. Russell in London, and went to 13, Bow Lane, and saw the prisoner and a man calling himself Lester—I hardly think there was an introduction; the prisoner said that he was Mears and a partner in the firm—I had some conversation with him, Lester gave me an order for boots value £147, and Mears wrote it out—I believed in the existence of the firm and the partners—the four of us then adjourned for refreshment, and then went to the Alhambra, where Lester and I paired off, and Russell and Mears paired off—the order was not executed.
Cross-examined. I think that was the second week in October—I saw Mears first—he told me he did not know much about boots, and asked me to wait till Lester came in; and after that the order was given—some time after the prosecution was instituted I saw Mears in Northampton—I do not remember telling him I considered he was an innocent man, and that Lester was the guilty party; I would not swear that I did not—I do not think I had a drink with him—I called at 72, Brushfield Street, and
saw his sister; Franklin was with me—I do not remember that Roberts was with me on October 2nd.
Re-examined. This is a press copy of the order given me on 2nd October—I do not travel much—I first knew Lester on August 28th; Mr. Callingham brought him to my place and introduced him as a big shipping agent—that was the first time I heard anything about shipping.
WILLIAM VIGOR . I am a boot and shoe manufacturer, of St. Andrew's Street, Northampton, with my son—a man named Lester called on me last year; he said that John Mears was his partner—he bought several little lots of goods, and said, "I like your goods very well, only you don't do them fast enough for us"—he paid for £50 or £60 worth, and those not paid for amounted to £32—this (produced) is the order Mears gave on September 21st, at 13, Bow Lane, and I received this note respecting it on October 24th—I sent it to 69 and 71, Finsbury Pavement, with a statement of the account, but it has not been paid—I received no answer and no money.
Cross-examined. A cheque for £15 and one for £10 was paid; he bought everything for cash—other goods were bought for cash, but not delivered—he subsequently gave a private order for boots for his family, to be sent to Finsbury Pavement, which was executed—my son took the order—it amounted to £2 14s.—I got another payment of £6 13s. for things he bought for cash previously to this order.
Re-examined. A small order was given first and cash paid for it, and then a larger order.
JAMES VIGOR . I am a partner in the firm of Vigor and Son, of Northampton, and am a son of the last witness—on 24th October I was in London, and saw the prisoner in the office, 18, Bow Lane—I gave him this card (produced), and he wrote on it, "J. Mears, 69 and 71, Finsbury Pavement"—he said, "I suppose you know we are about to dissolve partnership"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "You need not be afraid, it is simply because we cannot agree, I shall always speak well of Mr. Lester."
Cross-examined. He said he was going to start for himself in the boot line—this order was to be paid for at a month.
EDWARD HENRY WATSON . I am a bailiff of the City of London Court—I knew the prisoner and Lester carrying on business as partners, at 13, Bow Lane—on September 5th I sent an officer to the premises with an execution warrant for £48 13s., from the Bristol County Court, and on September 7th a return was made of £5 15s., as the amount of property on which a levy could be made—on 26th October I went to 13, Bow Lane—I am not certain whether I saw the prisoner or his partner, but I issued a default summons on them from the Norwich County Court to obtain judgment against them—on 30th October I went with a judgment summons to the same premises, issued in the City of London County Court for £44—I served a summons on each, and I believe I served the prisoner's partner last—on 18th November I had a warrant from Norwich on the original default summons for £23 19s.—that was not executed, as the goods were all sold on the first warrant—Mr. John Shaw, of Paternoster Square, put in this claim (produced)—this authority is in Lester's writing.
Lane—they asked me to do some carting for them, and my son did it; he is dead, and that is why I am here—I have the entry in my book which he made; he lived with me—I see nothing down on 24th June, but on July 4th there are twelve boxes of wine and four parcels, 2s.—it does not say where they were taken to—there is an entry on 8th July, "One case to Bishopsgate Avenue, 8d.;" and on August 3rd, "Eighteen cases to the Minories, hire of van two hours, 3s.; "September 2nd, "Two cases, 2s. 6d., and hire of van; "October 21st, "One case to Camomile Street, 8d.; "November 5th, "One case, Avenue, 1s.; "November 6th, "One case to Camomile Street, 1s."—I last saw the prisoner at 13, Bow Lane, about November; I saw him and Lester in the lane together.
Cross-examined. It might have been October—I have seen that gentleman (pointing) in the office sitting at a desk, but very seldom; I do not know whether he was the clerk—I did not see him come early in the morning for the letters; I opened the office at 6 a.m., and they came when they liked—a remember a bolt and padlock being put on the door; that may have been in the summer.
ULYSSES LATRIELLE . I am a clerk at the Union Bank of London, Aldgate branch—I produce a certified copy of the account of Mears and Lester, opened in June by a cash payment of £3 15s., and closed on September 25th, and reopened on the same day in the name of Lester with 1s. balance remaining from the former account, and a payment of £50—the whole sums paid in between then and October 29th were drawn out, except 4d., by November 23rd.
Cross-examined. They were all drawn out by Lester; he closed the account of the firm and opened his own; Mears was not with him on 25th September—Lester did not speak to me, he saw the manager.
FREDERICK NATHANIEL WHITCOMB . I am one of the firm of South, Son, and Whitcomb, of 18 and 19, Bishopsgate Avenue—I have known a man named Lester some years; he was employed by Mr. Nicholls, the auctioneer—from time to time I have received consignments of goods from him to sell by auction, and boots among other things in June last—I know the prisoner as Lewis; Lester told me that was his name, and called him his man—Lewis came to me after June, and from time to time, and I addressed him as Lewis; he did not say that that was not his name—he used to come to me about consignments of goods by Lester—the first record I have of his coming is on July 30th, when he came with this consignment note (For twelve pair of boots)—I handed him a cheque for £4; it is endorsed, "H. Lester"—on August 29th the prisoner brought this consignment order (For eighty-four pairs of children's boots, forty-eight pairs of Levant, and twenty-four pairs of Balmorals.—Signed, H. LESTER)—I handed him this cheque to Lester or order, for £31 4s., which Lester has endorsed—. on 2nd September the prisoner came and I handed him £11 4s. 3d. for goods consigned by Lester on authority which I had received from Lester—on 5th September is the next consignment note—I do not think the prisoner brought them forward again—they were delivered by van, and I made an advance of £21 that day—all the goods on which I made an advance I sold by auction without reserve, even those on which I may have paid the railway carriage—the goods of September 5th were sold by auction on September 11th—among the things so sold were fifty-two pairs of military boots, some rivetted and some slit; they were purchased at 3s. 8d
per pair, by Owen, a dealer—I never saw the bought invoice of those goods, and had no notion that they had been invoiced at 4s. 5d. and 4s. 6d.—on the same day I sold some of the Balmorals at 3s. 11d.; I had no notion what the invoice price was; we considered we got the full auction value, but we have to allow for a big trade discount; very often we get more than first-hand value—we have an auction every Wednesday, and it sometimes happens that we sell goods within six day 3—about the middle of October we declined to sell any more goods for Lester—there were many sales for Lester between the 11th and 27th September, all boots and shoes—the proceeds were given to Lester, if we had not advanced it; if we had, we gave him the balance, if there was a surplus—on September 27th I received this letter (Signed John Mears, giving notice not to part with the goods and money held in the name of Lewis)—I did not identify the writer's name; I daresay I had £100 in hand at that time belonging to Lester; he called that day or the next; I read the notice to him, and asked him the meaning of it—he said that the writer of it had no power to stop the money—I asked him the man's address—he said Northampton Street, Islington, and that his name was not Mears, but Lewis—he said that he and Lewis could not agree, I think—he said that Lewis had been drawing more money than he ought, and he had been down to the bank, and seen the manager about the account—it was left on my mind that they were in partnership, notwithstanding what I had heard of Lewis; I do not remember anything being said about dissolution—between 27th September and 11th October I received more goods from Lester—after receiving the protest I declined to hand Lester any more money, and I wrote to Mr. Lewis (Stating that unless he received documentary evidence by twelve o'clock next day, proving his title to partners ship in the firm, he should hand over to Mr. Lester the money due to him)—Lester said that the man had not the power; he did not say he was not a partner—the £100 I had was in goods, not in money—while I was communicating with Lewis he sent in more goods, and wanted an advance—on 11th October I had £25 in goods and about £100 in money—on 7th October I received another consignment note from Lester: "Please receive two cases of boots, H. Lester, and pay charges"—I did pay the charges—there were 144 pairs of men's cloth Balmorals, and other boots; in all, 234 pairs actually in possession when the letter of 11th October came—I had advanced money on them, but had not sold them—my next auction was October 9th, of goods for which I had paid the railway charges on the 7th—144 pairs of kid boots were sold to Thomas Layman, a pawnbroker in the Borough, at five shillings a pair—I had no notion that the invoice price was 5s. 6d. a pair—on the 11th I received this (A withdrawal of the protest, signed, J. Mears)—and on the 12th I handed Lester the balance, £15—I had made an advance of £68 between 27th September and 11th October in spite of the protest—Lesser gave receipts—I declined to pay the balance unless I had a formal withdrawal of the protest—I did not know that there was any connection between Mears and Lester—all the documents sent to me were on plain paper, and all signed H. Lester—I made these advances to keep up the credit of the firm—from that time we declined to do business with them—I told Lester we had made inquiries at Northampton, and found it was not straightforward—I should say I did not see the prisoner at my place after the withdrawal of the protest—he called before it was
withdrawn, and said ho had no documentary evidence to prove partner-ship, but he had the keys of the office, which lie showed us, and some invoices of goods which had been delivered by Lesser that day—that was between the 3rd and 11th October—he came with a case to show that he had the power to put a distringas on the goods—he left the impression on my mind that he was a partner—I paid £60 between the 27th and the 11th and the balance afterwards—up to September 27th I had no idea they were partners—I did not identify Lesser as a partner—I have known him twenty years as an intermediate man, bringing boots to us from firms who do not like to come forward.
By the JURY. He gave his address; I think it was Aldgate—I had never known him in connection with Bow Lane—up to 27th September I thought he was Lester's man.
Cross-examined. I did not know of any partnership existing up to 27th September—Lesser said Lewis was his man—he used simply to come with the letters, and take the cheques and go back—I paid £68 to Lester, notwithstanding the warning, and two days afterwards a distringas came, and when it was removed the only balance I handed over to Lester was £12 13s.—I sell hundreds of thousands a week for bookmakers when business is bad, because they want it for wages—I obtain what I consider a fair price, or withdraw them; selling by auction there is no discount—discount makes a difference of a few pence on each pair-Immediately I received the distringas Lester called, and had an interview with me, and then I received the information that if anyone was in the wrong it was Lewis, who had withdrawn too much money from the bank—he told me he had withdrawn the balance of the partnership money there, and opened a fresh account—I did not know whose goods they were which I sold in June—Lester sold goods for me in August to Jones Brothers, of Holloway—there was an invoice on August 10th with the name of Mears and Lester on it—I think our man went with the goods; the transaction was £104, and we paid Lesser £6 7s. 3d. commission.
Re-examined. Those were some French goods which we had, which Lesser saw in the warehouse, and said, "I could sell them for you to Jones and Co."—he took a sample and made the sale—I think he invoiced them because he sold at his own price—I think he made out the invoice in our office—on September 2nd Lesser told me that I could pay the money to his man, and he had told me the same on July 4th and 30th and August 29th—I do not identify the man who passed as Lewis as connected with Lester, except as his servant—he signed receipts for Lesser; on July 30th he signed "J. Lewis, for H. Lesser," and "For H. Lesser, J. L."
By MR. LAWLESS. The prisoner was present at some of the trans-actions with Lester; he was with him in the office in September and October—the distringas was only on for a fortnight; they never came together then, because I wanted them to do so—they only came about the business we were doing with them—that was in August or September.
HENRY OWEN . I am a shoe manufacturer, of 48, Old Kent Road—on September 11th I was at Whitcomb's, at a sale, and bought fifty-one pairs of boots at 3s. 8d. a pair—I sold them retail at 4s. 11d.—about 12th October I refused to do business with Mears and Lester, and on 22nd October I received a consignment of seventy-two pairs of boots from
Brayshaw and Co.—there were six consignments in all during the time I was refusing to do business.
RICHARD CARTWRIGHT . I am porter to Messers. Felman boot dealers, 12, Camomile Street—I saw the prisoner there about November—he came by himself—I think he has also come with Brayshaw, but I only saw his back—Brayshaw often came—I saw no goods in front of the prisoner when the prisoner and Brayshaw were there—I have made statements to Sergeant White when he asked me—I have not seen goods in front of Felmans premises at tunes when I. have seen the prisoner and Brayshaw there—I saw Brayshaw there with goods about November and October; I know no date-when saw the prisoner's back there was nothing there then—I last saw them there together about November, and I saw the prisoner there alone last about the same month-when Brayshaw came he brought boots; I unloaded some—the goods came before I saw the prisoner and Brayshaw there—the last delivery by Brayshaw was before I saw him and the prisoner together there.
Cross-examined. I do not swear I saw the two together there—I was first spoken to in November about giving evidence, by sergeant Whitt—he asked me if I had seen them together, and I said I thought I saw—my memory was pretty fresh, but I was not certain then—I work in an auctioneer's shop—I was not called to the Police-court to give evidence; this is the first time I have been examined in connection with this case—the prisoner and Brayshaw came in together; I think the prisoner was one of the two—I was at the back of the shop, packing up some boots—the shop is about forty feet long; there is no screen in it—I looked up in a casual way, and went on with my work—I am not sure the prisoner was one of them; I am sure Brayshaw was—I only saw the back of the man with him—this was five o'clock at night; there was gaslignt—I had seen the prisoner twice before-when I picked out the prisoner at the Police-station I picked out the man whom I knew before.
Re-examined. I never saw the prisoner there alone—I picked out the prisoner from among a dozen men at Moor Lane Station, as the man I had seen at Felman's with Brayshaw; I think it was—I had seen the prisoner walking up and down in Brushfield Street, now and again; and I saw him at Felman's, as I think.
ISRAEL FELMAN . I am a son of Mr. Felman, of the firm of Felman and Woolf, auctioneers, 12, Camomile Street—I know a man who gave his name to me as Shaw, of 21, Paternoster Square, whom I nave since heard is named Brayshaw—on 21st October he brought, and I bought of him, thirty-six dozens of children's boots, at 17s. per dozen—I had no notice where they came from—they were packed in cases with no name on—Brayshaw told me he was a commission agent; he did not say who he acted for; I did not ask him any questions—I think I gave fair value—on 6th November, 1889, he came again alone, and I purchased for my firm seventy-two pairs of youths' boots, at 3s. 9d. a pair—I made no inquiries, and had no notion as to the invoice price—on 13th November he brought seventy-two pairs of youths' boots, which we bought at 3s. 9d
—I don't know how those goods were brought to our place—I remember in one instance they were brought on a barrow, but I cannot say the date—I gave a statement to the Solicitor to the Treasury—I did not say all the goods were brought on a hand-truck, I said I saw one lot so delivered—my statement was not read over to me—I cannot say which consignment was brought in a hand-truck—the boots were brought in ordinary wooden cases, not packed for shipping nor in separate boxes—the first lot were brought in boxes, but the thirty-six pairs are always packed in dozen boxes, infants' goods—the lot I saw delivered were from a hand-barrow—we frequently have goods delivered from a hand-barrow, and I made no inquiry of Mr. Brayshaw—on 20th November I bought another consignment of 144 pairs at 3s. 9d. a pair; and on a second occasion that day he sold me 90 pairs of boots at 2s. 9d. per pair—I did not inquire the invoice price; if I had known it was 5s. 6d. I should have thought it confoundedly dear—I sold them to a shopkeeper at 3s. 3d. a pair—they were brought to my office while I was at lunch-Mr. Fairey and Mr. Franklin have been to our premises; they saw the boots I had left behind, which they identified as their property—on 9th November I sold the 72 pairs of the boots I had purchased on the 6th to Mr. Adams at 4s. 6d. a pair, a profit of 9d. a pair, or 15 per cent., which was not much, considering I gave four months' credit—the 2s. 9d. boots I sold at 3s. 3d., also 15 per cent.—others I sold for 4s. 3d., 12 per cent profit—the prisoner did not come to my office during this time to my knowledge—I did not see him there—Mr. Brayshaw came on all occasions, and alone—I suppose a porter would bring the barrow, I did not notice; it was a very shabby man; I did not go outside to see the barrow.
Cross-examined. We are in the habit of selling large consignments of goods—our profit is 15 per cent., taking all risks, and giving four months' credit—White first spoke to me about giving evidence in this case, and I made a statement to him, and gave Mr. Franklin and Mr. Russell all the information I could—I have no bias—White asked me if I had seen Brayshaw and the prisoner together—I thought over it.
ROBERT LANE . I am housekeeper at 69 and 71, Finsbury Pavement—about eighteen months ago some emigration agents, Howard, Bevan and Co., were there—after they left, at the end of August, their rooms were empty about two months, and then Bernard took the rooms, and stayed there about two months—the name of Howard, Bevan and Co. remained up outside—I cannot say I saw the prisoner there; to the best of my belief (I should not like to swear positively) I have seen the prisoner there, but I have reason to believe he has been there at different times—I see so many people, it is difficult to fix an individual face—to the best of my belief I saw the prisoner there about one o'clock on a day at the end of November—I call to mind seeing him there with another gentle-man—I don't know who that other was—I have seen letters there from time to time being received at the office; I have taken them myself—they were addressed to Mears—I looked through the letters, and if I saw one for Mears I should throw it aside as for Howard, Bevan and Co. 's office—I have seen parcels come there addressed Howard, Bevan and Co.—my sister, who has since died, would take the parcels—I went into the offices—I saw all manner of samples of different kinds of goods coming in from the very first down to the beginning of December—we
never had any rent for the offices; it should have been paid to the land-lord, Mr. Morley, of Parkfield Gardens.
Cross-examined. Bernard took the office—there was the same furniture in the office as had been there before—Howard, Bevan, and Co. went away and left it; I don't think Bernard bought it—Mr. Marvin let the office; I don't know the terms—I think I have seen the prisoner occasionally.
FRANCIS BETHAH MARVIN . I live at 79, Finsbury Pavement, and have the letting of some rooms at 69 and 71—in October I let some offices which had been previously occupied by Howard, Bevan, and Co., to a person called Bernard, at £68 a year, payable quarterly—no rent was ever paid—I think I last saw Bernard about a month ago—I have never, to my knowledge, seen anything of the prisoner—I aid not know he had anything to do there.
WALTER WHITE (Detective Sergeant, Northampton). On 30th November I received a warrant for the apprehension of the prisoner and Lester—I went to London, and on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd December I was watching different places, principally 13, Bow Lane; outside there the names of Mears and Lester were written in white letters—from information given to me I watched 69 and 71, Finsbury Pavement from time to time—on 3rd December, about 1.15 p.m., the prisoner came out of 69, Finsbury Pavement, with a man not known to me—they went to 27, Coleman Street, and the prisoner came out and went to Finsbury Pavement—I asked him if his name was Mears—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I have a warrant for your apprehension"—he said, "For me?"—I said, "Yes, for you"—he said, "You don't mean me?"—I said, "Yes, I mean you; I will read it to you if you like"—he said, "Not here"—I took him to Old Jewry station, and he was asked his private address; he wrote, "John Mears, 34," and did not finish it—he was asked for Lester's address, and wrote it on the other side, "Goulston Street, Whitechapel"—I searched him, and found eleven pawn-tickets, ten of which related to boots, and a quantity of cards of Howard, Bevan, and Co., and a paper containing the names of a great number of bookmakers at Northampton, Norwich, and Great Marlow, and a paper relating to the debts owing from the firm of Mears and Lester, amounting to £274—the names of Baker and Franklin occur in the correspondence, also an invoice from Messers. Vigors, for the supply of eight pairs of boots, £2 10s.—the warrant was read to Him at the station, and he said, "The villain that has got away got me into this"—I took him to Northampton, when he was charged with this offence, and answered, "All right"—on 5th December I went to 13, Bow Lane, and found nothing in the office but a wooden bench and six books in a cupboard—one was a letter-book, and this memorandum of an unpaid bill—here is a letter of December 5th, from Market Harborough, saying that a bill for £13 8s. had been dishonoured—from there I went to the office of Howard, Bevan and Co., Finsbury Pavement, and found a quantity of tinned vegetables and preserved meat and other things, and some toys, some Wellington hoots, and something almost of everything—I went to Bray, Shaw and Co. 's, 21, Paternoster Square, but it was shut, and I did not see the inside—I have a warrant for Lester, but have not found him—I have been on the look-out for Brayshaw, but have not found him.
Cross-examined. No charges were made in reference to the goods which
the pawn-tickets refer to—those books have not been claimed—two of the tickets relate to an overcoat.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN BROUARD . I was employed by Mr. Lester, at 13, Bow Lane, on 23rd October, 1889, and remained in his employ till November 2nd, at £1 a week—Lester paid me my salary—my duty was to attend the office in his absence—I had strict orders from him not to give the keys to anyone, and if Lewis came I was to prevent his interfering with or moving any goods or anything in the office—he ordered me to get there early in the morning, so as to get all letters, and put them in my pocket, and retain them till he came—I did so—Lewis came occasionally, but never interfered with the business—on three or four occasions high words arose between him and Lester, principally from the defendant requiring to know the position of affairs, and wanting an account of what had been done with the stock, and demanding some money, as he had none to go on with, but generally I was told to quit the office, and therefore I did not know all that took place—as a rule I was told to go out to the post—they did not appear very friendly—Lester did not put a new lock on the door while I was there—I left last at night—Mears had no key of the office that I am aware of—I went on 2nd October, and about a week afterwards goods came in cases—they must have come in a van, but I was upstairs, and Mr. Lester would go down—the carman did not come up and have a receipt signed—Mr. Lester sent the goods somewhere—goods were sent away on several occasions—Mears was not there when that was done—a week or a fortnight before I left, Mean came and asked for Lester, who was not in—he told me I knew where Lester had gone; I said, "I do not know"—he sat down and wrote several letters, I saw what they were when I looked in the letter-book—he gave them to me to post, and then left—I did not post them, because I saw the purport of them, and thought it my duty to look after my master's interests—I did not see Lester that day, he returned on the Monday, and I told him to look in the letter-book—he said, "That is what he has done, has he? have you got the letters?"—I said, "Yes—he then tore out several leaves from the letter-book—the letters were to different firms, telling them not to deliver any goods till they had notice from Mr. Mears—I left because I had a better situation offered me.
Cross-examined. I remember Mr. Russell and Mr. Brockett coming to the office; Mr. Lester was not there—I was ordered out, and Mr. Lester came upstairs and said, "What business have you out here? I told you to keep in the office"—the letters I went early to collect were for Mears and Lester; they came every morning—it is not within my knowledge that Mears produced the keys of the office on 4th October—I do not know Mr. Watson, the bailiff—I think Mears put the office stamp, Mears and Lester, on the letters ho wrote on October 26th; he called two or three times after that—I saw him about the Thursday before I left, that would be October 31st.
GEORGE JASON PHILLIPS . I am a solicitor, of Northampton—I was instructed to institute a prosecution in this matter, a police officer and Mr. Baker both mentioned it to me on the same day—I went with Baker to the Magistrate's clerk's office, and he swore an information, and a warrant was issued against Mears and Lester, for obtaining goods by false
pretences—on 16th December they were first charged before Mr. Baker, there was an all-day sitting till six p.m., and it was remanded for a week—the case for the prosecution closed on the 23rd, and the defendant, through his solicitor, Mr. Hopkins, applied for an adjournment, that he might get a certiorari to remove the case from Northampton to London, as it was a shoe case, and he might be prejudiced if tried in Northampton—it was remanded for about a month—on 14th January I had a visit at my office from Baker and Franklin, and I believe the two Vigors told me that the defendant had been to Northampton to see them, I think they said a week previous, and had asked them whether they would not allow him to pay the fees—I think he said he was going to spend £200 in counsel's fees if the case was withdrawn—I do not think they said anything about Lester's part in the transaction, but we were very anxious to get hold of him—there was no suspicion that Mears was active; Lester was the prime mover in the whole thing—there were some things which did not come out, but which influenced my mind—we understood that Lester had been made bankrupt—Mears had not been joined; the solicitor contended that he was the dupe of another man (The London Gazette of 14th January was here put in, giving the date of the bankruptcy, December 9th, and the adjudication, January 9th)—that strengthened my opinion that he was not the prime mover in the matter—the prosecutors came to me, and told me the defendant had been to them, and made proposals—I told them the charges were not felonies but misdemeanours, which might be withdrawn by consent of the Court, and they must not do anything; I went to the Magistrate's clerk, and told him what the proposals were, and that it was getting on for £200, and that all the men prosecuting were very poor, and had suffered great losses; and I put it to him whether they could not make an application for the summonses to be withdrawn; he did not offer any objection, but said he thought it would be well for me to see the Treasury, and I wrote there; in the meantime I told my client they must not see the defendant—three days afterwards I went to the Public Prosecutor's office, and saw Mr. Thomas, who said he must leave it with the Magistrate—I went back and applied to the Magistrates in Court, who took a week to consider it, and ultimately refused; they said they thought it was not a case which they could allow the prosecutors to receive money on—I did not say that Mears was really innocent, and Lester the real culprit; I said that Mears was to some extent the dupe and tool, and that the prosecutors felt that the really guilty party was Lester—Mears paid me £50 and £20, and I drew two promissory notes for £50, which were accepted as bills of exchange, making together £150—the money was paid before I made the application.
Cross-examined. My interview at the Treasury was on 17th January—the prisoner was next brought before the Magistrate on 20th January, when I told the Magistrate I had seen the Solicitor to the Treasury, who said ho had no power to interfere, but if the Magistrates consented that the whole thing should be withdrawn, there would be no opposition from the Treasury, and asked for a further adjournment—I appeared on the next hearing, and asked for a further adjournment for a week or a fortnight, as there was no solicitor present—the next hearing was on February 3rd, and it was adjourned for a week that they
might consider the application—it came before the Court on the 12th, and they said that they should not be justified on public grounds in with-drawing it.
HENRY THOMAS HAZLEWOOD . I am managing clerk to Kelly and Co.—I received instructions from Mears in the last week in September—he said he was in partnership with Lester, and wanted it dissolved, because he could get no account how the affairs of the partnership were going on—I drafted a deed of dissolution of partnership, and had it engrossed, but before that, on October 1st, I saw Lester as to the terms of the dig solution, and it was settled that he was to pay Mears £50, and take over all the debts—this is the deed—it was not signed, because we could get no account from Lester—he put me off from time to time, and at the last interview, about 24th or 25th October, he told me to go to hell—Mears was in connection with me during that period—I called on Lester many times, and then took no more notice—an execution was put into the office by Franklin, of Bristol, and we defended at Bristol for Lester and Mears—it was for some carriers' grease, which was returned—it went against them on a technical point that they did not return it quick enough.
Cross-examined. I have heard the evidence that throughout October the prisoner was attending at Bow Lane, and representing himself as a partner in the firm of Mears and Lester; I did not know it—on October 21st there was a letter saying that the partnership was about to be dissolved—I went to Northampton when the prisoner was under arrest, and saw him—in order to see him I did not tell the chief constable that I was Mr. Kelly, a solicitor; a solicitor's clerk has permission to see a prisoner.
Re-examined. The prisoner consulted us in September about Lester having closed the bank account, and taken money from the bank, and Mr. Kelly advised him to prefer an indictment against him—I did not always advise him—about the second or third week in October I said the best thing he could do to protect himself was to write to all the individuals he was in the habit of dealing with, and tell them what was about to take place, and repudiate it.
The Prisoner received a good character— Twelve Months' Hard Labour
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, March 8th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and A. GILL Prosecuted.
ELIZA ORPEN . I am a widow, living at 11, Alexandra Road, Hornsey—on 4th November, between three and four p.m., I went out, leaving the front door fastened by a latch lock—I returned about 9 p.m., and found the front door closed, but not fastened; there were marks of a jemmy on it; the front bedroom was in disorder; a small drawer in the chest of drawers was broken open, and things scattered about in disorder, and I missed a purse containing £5 10s. in gold and a five-shilling piece and a wedding-ring, a pair of earrings, and a brooch—the wedding
ring had been my sister's, who is dead; it was too tight for me—this one (produced) has all the appearance of the one I lost, and is too tight for me; it is the same size as the one I lost—I also missed an overcoat and a coat and vest of my son's—I gave evidence in November against Taylor—I saw the coat produced then—my son recognised it, and it was returned to him.
Cross-examined by John Deeley. I value the ring at twelve shillings—I said at the Police-court it was exactly like the one I lost—I said I did not know the value of it—it is my ring, and it was in the drawer—I have not the least doubt about it—I cannot swear to a thing of that sort; there is no mark on it, but I have no doubt it is the same ring.
GEORGE TAYLOR . I am a convict, at present undergoing fifteen year' penal servitude at Wormwood Scrubbs (see page 127)—I have known John Deeley for about eight months—on 4th November last I was living at 32, Parkfield Street, Liverpool Road, Islington—on that day John Deeley came to my lodgings between half-past three and half-past four; as near as I can recollect he stayed for twenty minutes to half an hour, and then said, "Which way shall we go, Jack?"—I said, "I will leave it to you"—he said, "We will go to Hornsey"—we went up the Liver-pool Road into the Holloway Road, and then came out at the top of Green Lanes—we had a drink in the Manor House public-house, stayed there a few minutes, and considered which way we should turn—John Deeley said, "Come on," and we went towards the Alexandra Road, but not direct—we then walked up several streets, knocking at several doors of houses which were in darkness; that would be between five and six—people came to the doors, and Deeley received answers, and was obliged to come away—we continued knocking at doors till we came to the Alexandra Road, where we found No. 11 in darkness—I did not know the number then, I learnt it at the trial; it was ten or twelve doors from the corner—I stood a few yards off to the left—Deeley knocked at the door, and then came back and paid to me, "It is all right, Jack"—I went with him to the house; he tried several skeleton keys which I had with me; they would not fit—I then took a, jemmy from Deeley, and forced the door; we both went in; I left Deeley to fasten the door on the inside—I went up to the first floor bedroom at the back, and broke open a right-hand drawer of a chest of drawers—I saw a purse on the top of other articles—I took the purse out, and examined it while Deeley continued searching the drawers—in the purse was £5 10s. in gold, and a Jubilee five-shilling piece—from a box in the corner of the room we took out a small morning coat and waistcoat—I put them on over my own clothes—when Deeley was examining the drawers he said, "There is nothing else of value in the drawers," but he had plenty of opportunity of taking small articles of jewellery which I could not see—I saw no jewellery there—I first saw this ring at the Police-court—Deeley might have taken it from the drawer and concealed it—we then went into the front room, and looked round, but the things were too big, and not of much value—we came downstairs, and looked round the back parlour—I took an overcoat off a peg in the passage, and put it on—we then left the house, Deeley leaving a minute or half a minute after me—we went towards my lodgings—on the way, between seven and eight, we had a drink in a public-house, where Deeley changed the five-shilling piece—we shared the money, £5 15s. altogether—I had
£2 10s. in gold and half the five shillings, and I bought the overcoat, allowing Deeley five shillings for it—we sold the coat and waistcoat to Tom Chandler at one of the streets off Nile Street, Hoxton; his address has been known for many years to the police—I went there with Deeley—we got between eight and six shillings for them, which we shared—I was not told anything about the jewellery—I got back to Parkfield Street after 8, with the overcoat in my possession; it was produced before the Magistrate—I was apprehended on 7th November, and charged with stealing boots from a shop in Upper Street, Islington—I was tried with a female and two men; they could not connect me with the other men—I was charged with three cases including this one; I was guilty of two with Deeley, and one I was not guilty of—I was committed and tried here on two cases, and also brought in guilty of a third—I was properly convicted of two cases and sentenced to 15 years' penal servitude—I know the female prisoner; she was living with a woman I was cohabiting with before the prisoners were married—they were married four or five months ago, before this robbery; I have only their word for it.
Cross-examined by John Deeley. I was charged here with two other men—I was found guilty of three charges—Thomas Smith was found guilty of two robberies and one receiving, the three charges against me; Henry Taylor was brought in guilty of one—I have known Henry Taylor about fifteen years—I was convicted in 1881 with the same man in the name of Henry Jones, for burglary—I have drunk with those men and been in their company since I came back from penal servitude—no one went besides you and me to Alexandra Road—I believe you were wearing the same brown sort of trousers as you have now, and an overcoat—I picked the purse up and counted the money and put it in my pocket—we came back a by-way, by the Nag's Head public-house, and then we took a tram-car—we called at the Manor House before that—you paid with the Jubilee piece—that was after the robbery, but before we got home—we did not share the money till we got home, but I gave you the 5s. to pay for the drinks—when we got back to my house no one was at home; we stayed there half an hour, it might be—we then went together to Tom Chandler's, between 8 and 9, with the coat and waistcoat, to sell them; I wore them—only you and me went; there was no third man going or coming out—no one else in my house saw you—the woman I was living with was out, and my landlady would not see you unless her door was open—I did not see you take anything—I believed you concealed the jewellery taken from the place unbeknown to me; it seemed strange to me that you wanted to leave me and meet me in an hour's time to do the next job, which was the large boot-shop—it seems to me the reason you wanted to go away from me was because you knew you had the jewellery that was taken from the place, and you were going back to Tom Chandler—you asked me at the Police court, "Can you swear you did not send that coat and waistcoat to pawn?"—you were going back to Tom Chandler to sell all the jewellery except the wedding-ring, and you bought the coat and waistcoat from Chandler, and brought them back to pawn, because a man who has been buying stolen property as many years as Chandler would not tell anyone what he had done with property after he had bought and paid for it—at the Police-court you said you wanted the woman I was cohabiting with, in the box—when
asked if you wished to call evidence you reserved your defence—I said the coat and waistcoat were sold to Chandler, and were not pawned—I did not send them to be pawned in the Liverpool Road—I don't know what became of them after they were sold to Chandler—I pleaded not guilty when charged with this housebreaking—I did not admit I was guilty till about two months after my trial—I have admitted my guilt now, because you suffered Louisa Cooper, who was charged with me, but who was innocent of taking any active part in the robberies that I have committed with you, to be locked up for six weeks for the sake of a £20 bail—she was the woman. I lived with; she was discharged after six weeks of remands—I have said now you are guilty became you did not get bail, and because of your keeping the jewellery that was taken from the place; I only think it is fair for you to have a little of the suffering as well as me—the only evidence against Cooper was five skeleton keys, which I crave her that morning that they might not be found on me; I did not think she would be taken into custody—since my conviction the police have visited me three times; they have not made any threats or promises to me—I should very much like to get my sentence reduced, but I am not giving evidence for that, but because of your unmanly actions to me; you and others promised me five witnesses and also a defence to the third case, where the only evidence against me was through the perjury of Sarah Wood with whom I lodged, who swore on me a coat belonging to Thomas Smith, who was charged with me and is now doing fifteen years—I said I bought the coat—the case was not tried—I know your wife lived at a brothel with one of my brothers—you went and brought her away and thrashed my brother, you drew a knife against him; that was before you were married; I was not there at the time—you and your brother assaulted me-you did not pull me out of a trap and thrash me for the part I took in inducing your wife to leave you—you aimed a blow at me with your, fist—I did not say I would have my revenge if it was in years to come—your wife was not within hearing—I have spoken the truth—you were concerned in another burglary with me.
Re-examined. He assaulted me, and we quarrelled—that quarrel was afterwards made up—I have since seen him several times, but he has been working with a man who was convicted in the November Sessions—early in November I was in the habit of seeing him for 12 or 13 days—after going to Tom Chandler's on that night I returned to Parkfield Street alone—after going to the Manor House, where we had a drink, and Deeley changed the five-shilling piece, we returned to my lodgings and shared the money, and made arrangements to do another job—I cannot speak with accuracy as to the various times, I had no watch; I speak generally from my recollection.
JAMES BALLARD (Detective-Sergeant N). For about a fortnight in October and November, I and Drew were keeping watch, sometimes alone and sometimes together, on 32, Parkfield Street, where Taylor lodged—I frequently saw Taylor, and I saw John Deeley going into the house—he usually used to come there with another man—Deeley was not lodging there—I saw him in Taylor's company almost every day—on Monday, 4th November, I saw Deeley and the third man go into the house, somewhere between 2 and 3 p.m.; they remained a short time, and then left, accompanied by Taylor—I was alone then—I cannot
speak with accuracy to the time—they went up Parkfield Street into Liverpool Road—I came down from where I was keeping observation to try and follow them, but when I got out I could not find them, and I at once returned to where I was keeping observation—I saw them all three next between 9 and 10 in the evening; the came back and entered 32, Parkfield Street.
Cross-examined. To the best of my recollection you went in the house about twenty minutes past two, stopped ten minutes, and then left with Taylor and the other man about half-past two—I am positive you are the fame man, because I had you under observation for a fortnight as well as Taylor—the lodgings were Taylor's—the private door of 32, Parkfield Street is in Liverpool Street—I lost sight of you—to the best of my recollection you had a coat and waistcoat on; the same as you have now—you had no overcoat on—you all three returned between nine and ten—I noticed nothing suspicious about you, but I noticed Taylor went out with-out an overcoat and returned with one on—I had no reason for thinking that overcoat was not his own—I saw you leave Taylor's lodgings about a quarter of an hour after that, just before ten o'clock—I did not follow you—I did not see you bring a parcel or anything out—you turned to the left to go down Bernard Road into Upper Street—I have seen you since 4th November—I did not know at the time you were connected with Taylor—I heard it after his conviction—I did not give evidence against him in November.
Re-examined. When they came out of the house first they went in the direction of Hornsey; the second time they came out they went in the direction of Upper Street, Hoxton—I know there is such a man as Tom Chandler; I don't know the man, nor where his place is.
By the JURY. I saw the three men together on other occasions—I don't know who the third man is; I know him by sight—he and John Deeley went into the house, and they came out with Taylor—I had not known Deeley before this.
ARTHUR CRAKER . I am assistant to Elizabeth Leech, a pawnbroker, of 193, Hoxton Street, Hoxton—a wedding-ring similar to this (I should not like to swear this is the one) was pledged with us by Louisa Deeley in the name of Mrs. Allen on 23rd December for 6s.—this is the ticket—on 20th January it was redeemed, and on the same day it was pledged again for 6s. in the name of Ann Allen, James Street—afterwards the police brought this pawn-ticket; I referred to the duplicate, and then produced this ring, and handed it to the police as the one pledged by Mrs. Allen.
Cross-examined. I have not noticed whether the ring was pledged previous to the 23rd December—I could not say if I ever took in a wedding-ring from Louisa Deeley previously—the ring is worth about 5s. from a pawnbroker's point of view—we might lend more to a regular customer—I have known Louisa Deeley before—we don't advance the full value of an article.
EDWARD DREW (Police Sergeant N). In October and November, when, I was with Ballard watching this house in Parkfield Street, I saw John Deeley about half-a-dozen times altogether, from 28th October to 5th November, I think—I saw him come to the house alone and in company with other men—I saw him with George Taylor more than once—on 4th November I was watching the house during the evening, and a little before ten o'clock I saw Deeley, Taylor, and another man come to the
house—Ballard was with me—I examined Mrs. Orpen's house two or three days later—the door had been broken open by a jemmy—I arrested Taylor—I found on him skeleton keys and a number of housebreaking implements, but no jemmy—this overcoat was produced before the Magistrate; it is now in Mrs. Orpen's possession—I arrested John Deeley on 9th February on another charge—I charged him with that, and then said, "I also suspect you of having been concerned in numerous cases of housebreaking, and I am going to search your room"—he said, "You will find no crook here"—crook means stolen goods—I found twenty-one pawn-tickets, including one for the wedding-ring—I made inquiries at Mrs. Leech's, and this ring was handed to me there, and has since been in my possession—I showed it to Mrs. Orpen, who identified it—on 14th February I arrested Louisa Deeley—she made no reply when I told her the charge—I took her to the station, where I showed her the ring—I said, "This wedding-ring has been found pledged, and you are suspected of having pleged it"—she said, "It is quite right; I did pawn it; my husband gave it to me to pawn"—I believe the prisoners are husband and wife; I have made inquiries—I know well the third man whom I saw accompany Deeley and Taylor to the house—I know his name—I had seen him with Taylor before; they are brothers—I do not know Chandler's shop.
Cross-examined. On 9th February I came to 28, Albert Street, without a warrant; I came in by using my own key; there was a disturbance next door, and I was knocking for half an hour, and got no answer—I arrested you first for wounding your wife, who instructed me to arrest you—I had no search warrant—I took the pawn-tickets from a room rented by another woman with whom you were in bed—the tickets were behind pictures, and lying all over the room; I took them all—I have made a distinction between those said to be hers and yours; I have marked them—when you went into the house in Parkfield Street on 4th November, between 9.30 and 10, with Taylor and the other man Ted, I think you were wearing a jacket; it was dark at the time, and the door was round the corner of the street—I did not say you were wearing an overcoat, but Taylor was, and he had not been wearing one the previous day—I had no suspicion it was not his own at the time—a little after ten I saw you and Ted leave Taylor's lodgings; I did not follow you; I did not notice if you were carrying anything—I have seen you twice since 4th November; I was watching Taylor—I had suspicions you were connected with this robbery—when I gave evidence against Taylor I did not mention having seen him go into the house that night; that case was not tried—when Taylor was arrested he denied all knowledge of everything; he said he was being taken for his ticket—he admits he was guilty of this charge—I found one skeleton key on you; you said nothing about it. John Deeley in his defence said he bought the ring in August for 6s., and his wife kept it till she pawned it in December; he pointed out discrepancies in the evidence, and alleged that the police officers had framed their evidence to correspond with Taylor's statement,
LOUISA DEELEY— NOT GUILTY . JOHN DEELEY— GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony in April, 1878, at Birmingham.
He had been in custody twenty-two times, and seventeen times convicted.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
GEORGE NEWTON . I am a clerk, living at 70, Allerton Road, Stoke Newington—on the night of 9th February I went to bed about twelve o'clock, after seeing my wife fasten up the house, close the front window of the dining-room, and fasten the sashes—next morning, at nine o'clock, I went into that room and found the window unfastened and the blind up—the room was in disorder, and I missed these things (produced), a cruet-stand, nut-crackers, sugar-tongs, jam-knife, pepper-box, salt-cellar, dish, and three spoons—I gave notice to the police.
Cross-examined. One end of Allerton Road runs into Lordship Park—I know there is an empty house in Queen Elizabeth Walk, which is a continuation of Allerton Road; I don't know if it is No. 66, but it is about there.
GEORGE TAYLOR . I am a carman, at Hamilton Place, Victoria Grove,. Stoke Newington—on the morning of 10th February I drove an empty van from my house in Hamilton Place (which I left at quarter to six) to 66, Queen Elizabeth Walk—William Kent was with me—I was loading Con-stable Richard's furniture, who lived at No. 66, when I saw the prisoners come by the back part of my van; Barrow went by, Bennett went into the garden of the house I was loading from—they went to a flower-box in the garden and took a sack with something in it—I got out of my van, and with Richards (who was helping to load the van and was coming with a box) chased the prisoners down Queen Elizabeth Walk—after taking the sack they had run off out of our sight when they saw us running—at the bottom of Lordship Road Richards turned to the left, I to the right—I examined the gardens on the right, and then crossed the road to meet Richards—I saw the prisoners in the garden of Lulworth House, in Lordship Road, sitting down in the garden between two trees—I caught hold of Bennett, and Richards took Barrow, and we brought them to 66, Queen Elizabeth Walk—nothing was said till we got into the road, and then Bennett said, "Let me have a struggle"—Mrs. Richards, at No. 66, did not identify the cruet, and then I and Richards took the prisoners round Lordship Park; we met Sergeant Hurley, and he assisted us to take them to the station—I did not turn the corner of Queen Elizabeth Walk before I saw the prisoners—I afterwards found a knife and a jam-dish, five or six houses from No. 66—I saw Bennett throw the dish away at 66, and the knife he threw six or seven doors off.
Cross-examined. I first noticed the prisoners going into the garden of the policeman's house from which I was removing the goods; I saw them carrying nothing in there—Bennett took the sack with something in it from the flower-box of the window, and they walked in the direction of the road—I spoke to Richards, no "Stop thief' was called—we ran after them about twenty yards—Richards said, "What are you doing here?"—Barrow said, "It belongs to Bennett," holding up the sack-Bennett said, "No, it does not; it belongs to him"—they argued it for a few minutes—Barrow said, in Richard's hearing, they bought it of a lad;. I am sure of that—I did not hear Bennett say "Barrow found it, and
gave it to me"—neither of them said, "We found it in the flower-box in the garden."
By the COURT. I said to them, "What have you got in the sack?" and Barrow said, "Nothing belonging to you."
ARTHUR RICHARDS (Policeman N 335). At 6 a.m. on 10th February I was engaged with Taylor in moving my furniture into his van, and I saw Bennett standing at the flower-box; he took the sack out of the flower-box, and walked out of the front garden, saying as he went out, "There is something here belonging to me"—I was in plain clothes; I had not said a word—he walked out of the gate, and joined Barrow, who was waiting outside the next house—I followed with Taylor—when the prisoners saw us following they ran away, and we ran after them—they turned into Lordship Road, and we lost sight of them—I searched the front gardens, and we found the prisoners hiding under bushes in the front garden of Lulworth House—I told Taylor to catch hold of Bennett, and I caught hold of Barrow, and said, "What have you taken from the front garden?"—Barrow had the sack, and he took this ornament out of it—he said, pointing to Bennett, "He gave it to me; he found it"—I told him he would have to go back to the house with me—when we got back to No. 66 I told him I was a police constable, and should arrest them for being in unlawful possession of this ornament; they both began to struggle violently—Barrow struck me on the back of the head with this ornament, and threw it into my front garden—I shouted for help; Taylor came to my assistance—we tool the prisoners to the station—I found nothing else on Barrow—on Bennett I found this knife and all these articles, except this glass, which he threw away when he was being conveyed back to No. 66—I have no doubt the prisoners are the men I saw in my garden.
Cross-examined, Only Bennett went into my garden; the other man waited outside at the next house—the cart might have been there ten minutes when this occurred—I had been sleeping in the house that night—I had been downstairs an hour before the carman came—all my things were packed ready for removal—from the outside it would have the appearance of an empty house—I was care-taker there—I am quite sure Barrow did not say Bennett found it in the garden; he only said he found it—that was all he said in my hearing—neither of them said they bought it from a boy—when I told them I should lock them up they began to struggle; nothing was said to me.
JAMES HURLEY (Police Sergeant N 48). On 10th February I was on duty in Lordship Road—I heard cries of "Help," and found the prisoners in custody of Taylor and Richards and a young man—the prisoners had been struggling, and Richards was evidently very much excited—I took hold of Barrow, who said, "It is all right, I will go quiet"—Richards said he had got him for housebreaking—Richards said Barrow had struck him on the head with this ornament.
WALTER LEE (Inspector N). At ten a.m. on 10th February I received information, and went to 70, Allerton Road—I found entry had been effected by a front window—on the sash of the window I found an indentation which might have been made by this knife Bennett is said to have thrown away, and there was also a slight mark on the fastening, as though some sharp instrument had been pushed against it—Taylor
brought this knife to the station—there was also a mark on the window-sill corresponding to this glazier's knife, which was handed to me by Richards, who searched Bennett—the prisoners made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. They were brought in first about a quarter to seven, and Barrow said then they had bought the property off a lad at Islington—they were charged with unlawful possession—then Mr. Newton came to the station at 10 o'clock, and they were afterwards charged with bur-glary—they made no reply to that.
Re-examined. I said nothing before the Magistrate about their buying it from a boy, but I am certain Barrow said it.
By MR. PURCELL. I swear Bennett threw it away—I told the Magistrate so. (It appeared by the deposition that the witness said Barrow threw it away.)
JOHN OTWAY (Detective Sergeant M). I was present at the Middlesex Sessions on 6th February, 1882, when the prisoner was convicted—I have known him for years as Gordon—I saw him on several occasions-after his conviction he was not in my charge—he is the man who was so convicted, I have not the slightest doubt.
Cross-examined. I did not apprehend him for the offence, I was there against him; I had not got him in custody, and I do not know the number or name of the man who had—no warders are here to give evidence—I have heard of warders and detectives being mistaken, but I am certain in this case.
NOT GUILTY of the previous conviction.
BENNETT, BARROW**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour Each.
OLD COURT.—Monday, March 10th, 1890.
Before Lord Chief Justice Coleridge.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MESSRS. KEITH FRITII and TICKELL
THOMAS ELLIOTT . I am custodian of Hengler's Circus, in Argyll Street—I live at 2, Lowndes Court, Carnaby Street—on Saturday evening, 15th February, about half-past nine, I was in the lobby of the Circus, when the prisoner, who was quite a stranger to me, came to the door and tried to get in without a ticket—I refused him admittance because he was under the influence of drink—I desired him to go away—he demurred for some minutes—at last I called the constable on duty, and asked him to show him the way into the street, which he did—some twenty minutes afterwards he came back, and, while my attention was called to another duty, he rushed into the building; I followed him, and
before he got half-way round the corridor I overtook him, and took him into the street, and he went away—some minutes afterwards he came back in an excited state, and said, "If you will not allow me to go in I will kill you"—he stepped back a short distance and presented a revolver at me—I stepped towards him, and he fired, and the shot passed through my hair, and the flash burnt off a portion of my eyebrow—he fired a second shot, which struck the wall seven or eight feet to my left—I should think the barrel of the revolver was about three or four feet from my face when he fired—I closed with him, and took the revolver from him and gave him into custody—I took the revolver to the station, and gave it to a constable—I have heard that the prisoner's wife was employed at a stall at the Circus.
JOHN KELLY . I am a custodian at the Circus—I was with Elliott in the lobby, and saw the prisoner having an altercation with him—I advised him to go away; he was not fit to enter a place of entertainment—he came back a second time, and I helped Elliott to put him out; I walked with him into the street—he returned a third time, shouting, will come in, I will come in, or I will kill you!"—I advanced to stop him; he stepped back about two yards, put his hand to his left breast, produced the revolver, and said, "I will kill you Is and fired twice.
Cross-examined. He was very excited and drunk—there was a very short space of time between the two shots; he was seized immediately-a struggle was going on when the second shot was fired.
ALFRED WILLIAM WARD . I am a professor of swimming, engaged at the Circus—I was at the entrance when I heard the prisoner say, "If you don't let me pass I will kill you!"—I saw one shot fired; the second one went off in my hand, when I had hold of him, and the bullet lodged in the wall.
WILLIAM SMITH (Policeman C 268). I was on duty outside the Circus—I heard a report, and saw the prisoner struggling—I took him into custody—he Paid, "Have I killed anybody, policeman? If I nave not, I wish I had"—I should say he had been drinking very heavily—I received this revolver from Elliott.
HENRY KIMBER (Police Inspector). The revolver was handed to me at the station—it was loaded with bullets in four chambers, and had two empty cases—I found on the prisoner this case, containing forty-four ball cartridges and twenty £10 notes on the Bank Engraving—he was the worse for drink, but was able to walk, and to understand what he was doing.
WILIAM CHANCE (Policeman C 10). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—he said, "I went to Hengler's to kill. My wife, and I am sorry I did not do it" his wife had a stall there that evening.
GUILTY on Second Count— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KERSIUW Prosecuted.
ALLAN PRITCHABD (Sub Inspector Thames, Police) On the night of 27th February, a few minutes after twelve, I went to No. 6, Upper well Alley, to the top floor back room—the prisoner was there, and the bed
and bedding was burning—with the assistance of a constable, with some difficulty we managed to put it out—I asked the prisoner the cause of it—"I—well set it on fire, and intended burning the—lot"—I took him in custody, and took him to the station—when the charge was read over to him he said it was an accident, that the tobacco had fallen from his pipe and set it on fire—I saw no pipe—he did not help to put the fire out—the house is let out in tenements—a man and his wife and some children were in the next room; he was under the influence of drink.
Prisoner's Defence. I was very drunk, and don't remember anything about it. I am very sorry. I did not do it intentionally.
GUILTY — Four Months Hard Labour.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
GUILTY — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 11th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
WILLIAM TAPLEY . I live at 69, Ashmore Road, Paddington—on 8th February, about 1.30 a.m., I was coming down Fernhill Road and heard a smashing of glass; I told two constables, and we all went to No. 27 and saw a window broken on the ground floor, and someone crossing the room; one constable turned his lantern on and one went to the front door; I got in at the window, and remained till the prisoner was brought out.
WILLIAM HATCHER (Policeman X 357). Tapley called me, and I went down Barnsdale Road on one side and another constable on the other side looking for a broken window—I had heard a smashing of glass—when I got to No. 57 I saw the breakfast-room window was broken; I turned my light on, but did not see any one—I went in by the window and found the prisoner in a corner—he said, "All right, old man, you have got me; I will go quietly"—he was taken to the station—I found on him this paper with addresses on it, a pencil, and a muffler—the window had been broken from the outside, because the glass had fallen inside; he could then unfasten the catch and throw up the sash, but it had been closed again—he might have been drinking, but he was not drunk.
MARK COATES . I am a signal fitter of 37, Barnsdale Road, Paddington—on 7th February I went to bed about 10 o'clock, leaving my wife up—I was awoke about 1.30, and heard some one in the basement; I was called at the same time by the nurse who was looking after a sick person—I went down and found the prisoner in custody, and the window broken near the catch, and some blood on a little cloth close by—I missed nothing
—the prisoner appealed to be acting drunk at the station; I have been an abstainer for twenty years, and I should have smelt him if he had been drinking; there was a table with flowers in front of the window, and even a sober man, if he was a stranger, would have great difficulty' in getting in without upsetting it.
MARTIN WALSH (Police Inspector X). I examined these premises—an entry had been effected by breaking the breakfast-parlour window over the catch, forcing back the catch, and lifting the lower portion of the window—the frill of it is about three feet from the ground; nothing was easier—a drunken man would have knocked down almost all the articles in the window, but they were not disturbed—I saw blood-stains on the sash, caused in undoing it—there were scratches on the prisoner's left-hand and nose—he staggered about a good deal, but he was not drunk, because when I put him into the cell passage he suddenly walked very well.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he teas so drunk that he scarcely remembered anything about it.— GUILTY .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted,
CHARLES ISAAC WAKEMAN . I am a jeweller, of 447, Commercial Bond East—my shop is part of my dwelling-house—we commenced to close the shop at 9.30 on the 24th—I was sitting in a room behind the shop; a porter rushed in and said something to me—I went out at the side as quick as I could, and saw a large hole in the window, large enough for a man to put his arm through—a tray containing thirty-two rings, value £129, was gone from the window, but I did not miss it till I saw it brought back—I also missed three gold bangles, one of which was handed to my wife in the crowd; I also saw the tray handed to her, and there were eleven rings short; I also missed one ring out of another tray—this bag of stones was inside the shop in front of the counter; I showed it to the constable.
REBECCA JANE WAKEMAN . I am the prosecutor's wife—I was with him in the back premises on 24th February, and heard a crash of glass; I went out, and saw the window broken, and this bundle of stones (produced) lying in front of it—a bystander handed me a gold bangle, which I identify.
ERNEST MARKS . I am out of work—I live at 48, Heath Street, Commercial Road—on 24th February I was near Mr. Wakeman's shop, about 9.30, heard the crash of a window, and saw the prisoner running from the shop, about twelve yards from it—a man standing two yards from me said, "Go it, Bill"—I gave chase, and caught the prisoner about thirty yards from the shop—he said, "Oh, I am caught"—another man caught hold of him, and then a policeman, and he dropped this tray of rings; a boy picked one up—I gave them to Mrs. Wakeman.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, I had hold of your left arm, and you had jour right arm like this, and as the constable laid hold of your right arm the rings dropped; I saw you drop them.
FREDERICK RICHARD BARBER . My father is a publican at 15, Harding Street—on 24th February I was close to Mr. Wakeman's shop, heard a crash, and saw Marks chasing the prisoner, he caught him, and I saw this tray of rings fall from his coat out of the tray—I picked them up and gave them to Marks.
HARRY STUDD (Policeman 498). I was on duty nearly opposite Mr. Wakeman's shop, heard a crash of glass, and saw the prisoner leave the window, running towards Jamaica Street; I gave chase, and when I got to Bermuda Street he was detained by Marks, and a plain clothes con-stable assisted in taking him to the station—I went to the prosecutor's Shop; he gave me this bag of stones.
JAMES ANDERSON (Policeman H. 159). On 24th February, about 9. 15, I was in plain clothes in the Commercial Road, heard a crash of glass, and saw the prisoner and Marks running—they turned a corner, and I went round and saw them together on the road to the station; the prisoner said, "I did not do it, they threw it between my legs."
GEORGE HENRY DIXON (Police Inspector H). I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought in—when the charge was taken he said, "The other man who threw it ought to be here, and not me"—I examined the bundle; the bottom of it was splintered, with plate glass adhering to it—next morning I examined the shop; the plate glass window, 54 inches by 45, and five-eighths of an inch thick, was broken, the aperture was thirty-two inches in diameter—it must have been done by throwing something against it with great force—it was splintered in all directions, and pieces went four or five feet into the shop.
Prisoner's Defence. I was passing and saw a crowd, and went to have a look; and seeing persons running I ran as well, and these rings were thrown down. I am perfectly innocent. I am the victim. I have never been locked up in my life.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted, and MR. ABINGER Defended.
JOHN WATKINS . I am shopman to Jerome Aubonville Lamey, of 10, Charterhouse Street—on 9th January I sent some violins to Mr. Moore, of Seymour Place, by my man on a cart, also ten bows and a mandoline and case—they were wrapped in this cover and directed in my writing—they were worth about £3 12s.
JACK COURSE . I am porter to Mr. Lamey—on 9th January I went with this parcel to Mr. Moore—I had to go up Drury Lane and deliver goods, leaving the truck outside; when I came back they were gone—I believe these are the violins, but I did not see them; they were inside paper similar to this—I informed the police.
ALFRED NEGROPONTE . I belong to the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard—I received instructions from Inspector Conquest, and on January 15th, about half-past nine, I went to the private bar of the Horse and Groom, Neal Street, Long Acre, dressed as I am now—the prisoner is the landlord—after some conversation about the weather
I asked him in French if he had any violins for sale—he said, "Yes, but it is too late this evening"—I pressed him to show them to me, and he-asked me into the bar parlour, and spoke to a man named Webber in German, which I did not understand—Webber left the house, and returned in about fifteen minutes with a parcel, which he handed to a barman, who placed it on a table in the bar-parlour—Hoffman then left the room and came back, and we both opened the parcel, which was in a coloured handkerchief; it contained 7 violins and 10 bows; I examined them and found marks corresponding with those given by the loser—there were tickets on them then, which are all off now—I asked how much he wanted for them—he said £5—I. said, "No, I will give you £3"—he said, "I cannot do it for that"—I said, "I will give you £4—he said, "Split the difference, and give me £4 10s."—I said, "Yes," and gave him 10s. deposit—we had some refreshment—he went out to the bar, and returned in five minutes, and brought this piece of leather, and said, "Do you deal in anything else?"—I said,. "It all depends"—he said, "Is this anything in your line?"—I said, "I don't know; my father is the head of the firm, and I will consult him"—he said, "All right; see what you can do"—I took it away, and gave it to Mr. Conquest—I left about 7. 30, and arranged to come at 4 the next afternoon and take them away, which I did, and saw the-prisoner behind the bar—he asked if my father was coming—I said, "I don't know; he promised to"—I asked him if he had got the violins all ready—he said, "That is all right; they are upstairs"—I forgot to mention that on the previous day I asked him if be bad got a mandoline, as one was lost at the same time as the violins, and when he said he had got the violins upstairs I said, "What about the mandoline? are you going to get that to-day?"—he said, "Yes"—that conversation was in the private bar; he asked me into the bar-parlour, and went out and told Webber something in German—Webber left the house, and returned in a few minutes—while he was gone the prisoner called me to the kitchen at the back of the bar-parlour, and showed me this invoice, and said, "What am I to do with this leather? you see what it cost"—it was for thirty dozen of glazed kid—Webber then returned, and spoke to Hoffman in German—I only understood one word, which I took for "Police"—Hoffman got very uneasy and went out, and I went into the passage and looked through the little window of the door, and saw somebody speaking to him—when he returned I said, "What is the matter?"—he said, "Oh, it is nothing, it is only the police outside at the corner"—I said, "What has the police to do with us? it will be all right"—but he went outside again to look; I followed him—several people in the bar asked him what was the matter—he said, "There has been a row round the corner"—he-came back and said, "Wait half an hour, it will be all right, you know how things stand, it is not the first time I have done them"—I made—this note of the conversation at the time—we returned again into the kitchen, and I gave the signal; we both went into the bar; he went behind the bar, and I went to the other side—he said, "Wait half an hour, because if anything happened I might get five years"—I said, "I hope you will not get me into trouble"—just at that time Bowden and Conquest appeared, and there was a conversation between Conquest and the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I heard Conquest say, "You see who we are; we are police officers"—I have been over four years in the police, and one year in the detective department; this is not my first case by a long way—I had never soon the prisoner till I went there on the 15th—I had no warrant; I only went to find out if it was true, and if they were really the violins—there was a Frenchman in the private bar; I do not know his name—I met him casually—I had not made appointments with him before; I did not meet him by appointment; I never knew the man before—he told me they were for sale when I met him at the house—if I said at the Police-court that I met him by appointment that was a mistake; I had never seen him before the night of the 15th—he told me at the house that there wore violins for sale, not in the street—if an appointment was made with my superior officer I did not know it; I made an appointment with Inspector Conquest—I mot the Frenchman there again on the 16th, and I saw him, after Hoffman was charged on the 16th, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Bow street, in the Strand—I do not know what instructions my superior officer gave; I made no arrangements—I did not know the name of the man who gave me information that the violins were for sale, but I have heard it now—I do not think he is here; I have not seen him—while I was in the house the Frenchman was in the bar the greater part of the time drinking with mo—I paid for some of his drink–I understand French—I am an Englishman, but of Greek descent—I did not hear the Frenchman say to the prisoner, "I have some fiddles for sale; if I get ten shillings I can get them out and can sell them"—I did not hear him say anything about ten shillings deposit—I said that I was the buyer, and I said to the French-man, "My father is a buyer"—I believed that the prisoner had the violins for sale, not the Frenchman—the Frenchman did not say, "I have some violins for sale"—I asked the prisoner in French if he had any violins for sale; I had heard it from my superior officer—the Frenchman did not pass the leather to the prisoner—the Frenchman and another man came into the bar-parlour—the Frenchman seemed to know Hoffman—I had "Webber arrested, but he was discharged by the Magistrate.
Re-examined. A lot of questions were asked me at the Police-court—my depositions were read over very quickly, and something may have escaped me.
THOMAS BOWDEN (Detective C). On 16th January, about 4.30, I went with Inspector Conquest and another constable to the Horse and Groom—the prisoner was standing behind the bar—he said, "Oh, Mr. Bowden, here you are"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "If you had been here three days later I should have gone, I run away from you before, but it is all up now; I made a mistake in buying the d—fiddles"—in answer to something Conquest said, he said, "You will find the violins in the cupboard"—Conquest wont to the cupboard, and took cut the violins in this bag—the prisoner looked at me and said, "The two lads I bought them of were in the bar just before you came in"—the violins were counted, and there was one short—I said, "What has become of the other violin and the mandoline which I am told you bought?"—he said, "I have sold the violin, but the mandoline is at the baker's (Embach's) a little way up the street; I sent for it, but the old man was in the street"—I said, "Yes; I know"—I then went with Conquest and Negroponte to Embach's and made inquiries, and searched, and then went back to
the prisoner, and told him that I could not find the mandoline—he said, "Then the old man must have taken them (or it) away, and deceived me"—I said, "Do you mean Barron?"—he said, "Yes, Webber; they are the same person"—I then went downstairs with Conquest, and the prisoner was charged with Webber—he replied, "Webber is not guilty; come what will, I will take it all on myself, and put up with it."
Cross-examined. The prisoner has a licence; he has had it a month or two—I have known him two years—he would have to go to the Magistrate for his licence—it is never granted to a man who has been convicted, if it is known—I have been looking out for the prisoner on other occasions—I do not know whether I have got him to-day—I had no warrant—I had a conversation with Negroponte the day before—I had received information that the fiddles were there—the prisoner knew we were policemen—he volunteered the information—I said at the Police-court, "I said what part has Webber taken in this transaction?"—the Magistrate said that Webber had nothing to do with it—my suspicions were at fault there.
JOHN CONQUEST . I am an Inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department—on 16th January I went with other officers to the Horse and Groom, Neal Street, of which the prisoner is the licensed landlord—Negroponte had preceded me three-quarters of an hour or an hour before—I remained in the neighbourhood—I saw a signal, and went in and saw the prisoner at the bar parlour door—I said, "You know me?"—ho said, "Yes"—I said, "I understand you have in your possession some violins which you have been offering for sale to this man," pointing to Negroponte, and I said he knew all about them—I said, "I also understand you have offered some skins for sale like this one (producing it); this is what you gave him last night" (Negroponte had given it to me)—he said, "I know nothing about it'—Negroponte said, "You showed me an invoice for the skins"—I said to the prisoner, "Where is it?"—he said, "I don't know"—I took hold of him to search him, and he put his hand in his waistcoat pocket and pulled out this invoice—it is made out to W. II. Dean and Son, for thirty dozen glazed skins, £66—I then said, "Where are these violins?"—he said, "I daresay you will find them"—we then searched the house, and in a sack in a cupboard in the first floor back room I found these seven violins and fifty bows—I showed them to the prisoner and said, "I believe these are stolen property, how do you account for the possession of them?"—he said, "A Frenchman brought them here to sell—I took him to the station, and he was charged with receiving the skins and the violins, well knowing thorn to have been stolen—I afterwards received this sewing machine from Mr. Embach—I showed it to the prisoner and said, "I have received this from Mr. Embach, ho Mays it belongs to you"—he said, "Yes, I have had it for a long time; I bought it for a young woman who was staying with us, and when she left my missis gave it to Mrs. Embach to take care of."
Cross-examined. The Magistrate discharged Webber—I was not charged to inquire when the prisoner applied for his license, unfortunately—he has got either a protection order or a license—the Frenchman's name is Veylon—I decline to give the name of the man who gave me the information about the fiddles—I do not produce him as a witness, because the evidence is conclusive without him, and he is not here—I did
not know from the prisoner's defence at the Police-court that the French, man brought him the violins for sale—he is not in the pay of the police—I wrote out this conversation in his house, and afterwards as soon as I could—I went to the station before him—I did not have a drink with him then, but on the previous occasion I did so, it was necessary; other people were in the bar—I am sure no one ran out, because I had the door secured—I did not see the Frenchman in the bar.
ELIZABETH EMBACH . I am the wife of John Embach, a baker, of 60, Neal Street, Long Acre, a few doors from the prisoner; I know him by sight—on 13th January, a man who I knew by sight, but whose name I did not know, brought a parcel to me which he said was from Hoffman—it was covered with this sack—the man used frequently to come to our shop from the prisoner for bread—I never heard his name mentioned—he left the parcel with me, and Webber fetched it about 9 p.m.—he is a servant of the prisoner—some weeks before this a square box was left with me, which I have ascertained contained a sewing machine—Hoffman left it, I believe—I gave it to Inspector Conquest, and it was taken away after the bag was taken.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner eight or ten years, and consider him a respectable man—he has complained of things being stolen, he has not brought other things to me—I never heard anything against his character—he had another public-house before this for a year or two—I do not know whether that was his own, or whether he was a servant in it.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner ten or twelve years—I never heard anything against him—I have known him keeping public-houses for ten years—I knew him at four houses—I knew he had a license at the last, and I believe he had at others—he complained of things being stolen from his place; a week or a fortnight before he lost several sheets and towels.
THOMAS ARTHUR SHEPHERD . I am housekeeper to Eastlake, Fisher, and Co., 73, Aldermanbury—on l«5th January, between four and five p.m., I left their place with a truck with parcels of leather in it, and an invoice in one of them—I delivered some goods to J. S. Deeds, in Oxford Street, and when I came out about forty minutes past four the parcel of skins in which the invoice was gone—this is the invoice.
JOHN PADDINGTON . I am a carman employed by Davis, the sewing-machine people—on 15th October I took a number of machines to deliver to customers; this is one of them—I had to deliver goods in Bedford Square, leaving it in the closed van, and when I came out it was gone.
Cross-examined. I was driving; there was no boy.
Evidence in Reply.
JOHN CONQUEST (Re-examined). I have known the prisoner for the last five or six years; he has been under my observation a considerable time, and has been seen in the company of thieves—I found some stolen bonds of 1871 in a drawer behind his bar; there is a warrant out against him from the Excise because he did not pay the fine.
Cross-examined. There is no conviction of felony against him; I have not charged him with any offence till now, nor has he been charged, to
my knowledge—I received a communication from the French Police that the bonds were stolen.
Re-examined. We have not been able to get sufficient evidence to charge him.
THOMAS BOWDEN (Re-examined). I first knew the prisoner as a companion of thieves and prostitutes, at the Booth's Head, Charing Cross Road—no license was granted—his brother-in-law took the house, and he was put in as manager—a man named Deverell was summoned and fined for keeping a disorderly house, and harbouring thieves.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not summoned—a man named Muller took a public-house, and put the prisoner in as manager, and Muller was summoned for serving drink on a Sunday, and I traced eight £5 notes to Hoffman, stolen by a prostitute—he then took a temperance house, The Shades, in Victoria Street, Westminster, and was summoned for selling beer without a license—I have no animosity against him—Mark Van Roller, a German Jew, who was convicted, and had fifteen years, was one of his companions—I have drunk with him frequently in the execution of my duty—I do not know of any convictions against him in England.
GUILTY of Receiving.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
There were two other indictments against the Prisoner.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday; March 12th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
277. CHARLES WALLACE, ALFRED PARRY , and ELLIS WRENCH , Unlawfully and forcibly entering a house in the possession of George Monk, and expelling and removing him from it. Other Counts, for injuring, with other persons, the same house, and for conspiring with others to commit damage exceeding £5.
MR. CANDY, Q. C., and MESSRS. KEITH FRITH and SANDS Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended.
GEORGE MONK . I am managing clerk to Mr. Everall, a solicitor, of Devonshire Square, and live at 7, Paragon Road, Hackney—on 3rd February I went home about 10 p.m., and at a little after ten the prisoner Wrench came to the window and then to the door, and said, "Are you going to let us in?"—I said, "Certainly not, what for? My application to the Divisional Court is pending, and will be heard next week; I do not understand what you mean"—he said, "Well, you will b—well handy up, and we shall get in somehow"—I said, "If you attempt to break into my place you know what the result will be; you had better see me at Chadwick's in the morning" he said, "Very well," and went away—at a little after eleven I heard a knocking at the front door, and went to it, and Wrench again said he would get in somehow—my wife came out of the breakfast parlour, and Parry said, "What b——y cow is this?"—it is a corner house—I spoke through a hole as large as my hand in a broken window which opens on to the front area—about 12.30 or 12.45 I found there was a man at each door; they had leaped over a wall at the back, and there were two or three men at the washhouse door; I heard them talking, and there
were three or four at the back kitchen door—I saw all three prisoners at the back door, with Gleeson and Hewitt, and went to the w. c., over it I could hear then hammering and pulling the glass out only about a yard from me—I said, "If you dare to break into my house at this time of night I shall apply for a warrant against you, and you will have to suffer for it; you are all drunk"—Parry then took his coat off, and Gleeson put it over his head to protect it in putting it through the broken window—he is a very little man—when I went in they had hung a coat over the window—they were all at the kitchen door—I went into the kitchen, and warned them again, and then bolted the door, and said, "I am going to bed"—I put out the gas, and we looked through the blinds in the back parlour, which is over the kitchen, and could see them damaging the place—my wife was terrified, and my children were clinging to me; I have seven children and an aged mother of eighty, and they were all in a state of fear—when my wife looked out of the window Parry said, "Who the b—hell are you looking at?"—she said, "You, you vagabond; if you dare to break into this house"—he said, "Don't look at us"—I left her and my oldest son there, and went down to the breakfast parlour again, and heard a crash, and the whole woodwork came through—I opened the kitchen door, and found the three prisoners and two more in the kitchen, who we have not succeeded in arresting—I said, "Well, now you are in possession there is an end of it; you see what you have done'—I lit the gas, and saw them all under the light—they spoke to each other and said, "You did it;" "I did not do it; it is not my fault," all blaming each other—I said, "I shall apply to the judge to-morrow for a warrant against you"—I applied to Mr. Justice Day, and obtained an unconditional order for them to go out immediately, brought it back, and Parry said, "We will do for you if you apply for a warrant"—in the morning, when I was preparing the information, I said to Wrench, "You had better see what I am going to do, and what I am going to say"—Parry picked up some of the pieces which were wrenched from the side of the window, and I said, "You dare to touch any of that I will have the police here"—he picked up one of the pieces of wood with glass in it, threw it outside, and said, "You see what you have done; you did that in fighting us outside"—after they got in I said, "You are in now, and I have my remedy," and the police came and took their names and addresses—they asked if they might have a fire; Mrs. Monk said, "There is the coal-cellar, you can take the coals," and then they lit the fire—in the morning I went down at seven o'clock, and saw them burning part of the woodwork; there was a fire all night, and they were burning the sashes—this (produced) is the wood; this is where all the glass was picked out—I got the information in the morning, and: in the afternoon I applied to Mr. Bridge and obtained a warrant—Mrs. Monk had to go to the station for the police—the Sergeant said he should have to interfere if they did not behave themselves, and Wallace took his coat off and went upstairs after my wife, and said he was going to bed with her; she said if he came up he would get the poker, and she screamed—the two others have absconded—a similar bill of sale has been held by the Court of Appeal to be invalid—the company to whom I gave it was the Consolidated Credit and Mortgage Corporation, Great Tower Street, and then they altered the name to "The Consolidated Company";
the interest was 60 per cent.—I had paid it nearly all, and they claimed £40 as interest—litigation was actually pending at that time.
Cross-examined. I have had twenty-two years' experience of the law—Mr. Everett has been admitted since 1884; he comes to the office every day from eleven to five—I borrowed £30 from this company at first, and I paid all the capital, and it was renewed again, resulting in the bill of sale which led to these proceedings—my wife also signed the bill of sale; I did not read it, it was a printed form, and they would not alter it for me—I do not deny that when "Wrench came into possession it was a legal possession; I have nothing to say against him beyond this transaction, as far as I know he is a respectable professional man—I did not get him out by a trick; he said, "I am not going to stay here," and walked out—I did not provide him afterwards with his journey money backwards and forwards, so that he should not go into possession again, I only paid him 3s. 6d.; I did not give him any money; he was not there, he was taking his money from Chad wick—he met me at the Law Courts; not by appointment—I did not ask him to serve writs for me; but one day Mr. Binks gave him half-a-crown to serve a summons at Clapton—I did not expect he was to go into possession again at my place—this telegram is my writing: "Lock door; let no one in; not Wrench; home soon. Monk"—I sent that to my wife, because I thought after this order had been renewed, "Wrench might go into possession again—I said at the Police-court, "I did not send a telegram to my wife, telling her to keep Wrench out of possession. "but I remembered it afterwards; I said I did not send one from the Royal Courts—I went to Justice Penman's house and got a summons for an interim injunction; the injunction was refused unless I paid £52 into Court, or gave security—I went to Messers. Chadwick; I did not ask them not to do anything for a time—I gave notice of motion, which was heard before the Divisional Court and decided against me, and I was ordered to pay the costs, which I have not done; but I appealed on the 4th, and got this injunction from Mr. Justice Day on their breaking into my place—there was a summons, but it was adjourned sine die till the case of Hazlewood is settled—I am not a carpenter, but I should say the damage done to my place was £7 or £8 or more; the men trampled on the carpets and cut them with glass—I have not sworn that it was under £5—I have left it in the same condition—I have brought an action against my landlord, who has asked me to settle the matter, and it is practically settled; it is about trespass; he gave me notice to quit, and I paid the rent up to the date of the notice, and then he distrained for a quarter's rent and put a man in possession, who was in four days, and I brought an action—I had offered him the rent and he would not take it—I have not settled that—immediately he found he was wrong, lie withdrew the man—I made an exparte application, and the Judge ordered him out—that action is still pending—the prisoner was drunk—it was foggy at ten or eleven o'clock—I heard what the man said through the broken glass of the parlour door—I was perfectly sober—I did not expect anybody to come from Chad wick's; I thought they would let it be till the appeal was heard—I am fighting the bill of sale—I have brought an action to set it aside, on the ground that it is void—the panneling and woodwork is damaged and wrenched away, and the oilcloth cut to pieces by trampling on the broken glass; we had to take it away—three panes of glass were broken.
Re-examined. The first bill of sale was in 1887, and I renewed it about April, 1888, from the same company, the Consolidated Credit Mortgage Corporation—the third bill of sale was in October, 1888, with the Consolidated Company—the former company was in liquidation, and this company took over the assets, but not the liabilities—I saw the same person, Mr. Reynolds, in getting the first and second loans—I am fighting this in the bonâ fide belief that the bill of sale is void, and that I am entitled to have my goods; I paid enough for them—the interest is 60 per cent.—it is void because they claim 60 per cent, on the capital, and do not reduce it as you pay off your instalments—there is no foundation for the insinuation that I induced Wrench to go out by a trick or a fraud—he said, "I am off," and went away of his own accord—when I sent the telegram to my wife, I thought it possible he might come in—the door was open all day, as the children went in and out to the school opposite—the breakfast parlour window was slightly broken, about as big as your finger, and covered with brown paper.
MRS. MONK. I am the prosecutor's wife, and live with him and his mother and our seven children—on February 3rd, about 5 p.m., Wrench came and asked for Mr. Monk—I said that he would be home shortly—he said he would go to the station to meet him, but afterwards said he would meet him at the Law Courts next day—my husband came home about ten o'clock, and Wrench came again, and asked him to let him in—he said, "Certainly not at this time of night"; he used a bad expression, and said he had handicapped him, and he meant getting in somehow; that was at the breakfast-room door—there was then a knock at the back door; my husband went, and I followed him—he said, "Who is there?"—someone said, "Me Monk"—three men got over the garden wall from the street—I was very frightened; the men made a great noise, and used bad language—we went into the breakfast-room, and they were talking of hauling in the window; Parry said, "Go it, Charley! stick to it at the back"—I went into the kitchen afterwards, and he used a very filthy expression to me; they shouted to each other continually—I asked them to be quiet on account of the children, and they used filthy expressions to me and the children; their ages are from six to fourteen; they were very frightened, and crying; five of them were in bed—my husband remonstrated with the prisoners for the language they were using—I went to the back drawing-room window with my husband and my two sons, and saw five men in the garden, Parry, Hewett, and Wallace—Wallace was wrenching the garden gate—I distinctly saw five men at the kitchen door; a street lamp faces that door—my husband said to them, "Mind what you are doing; lam watching you"—Wallace and Parry made use of filthy expressions, the others did not use such bad language—I shut the window; my husband went into the passage, and I looked through the blind, and saw Gleeson take his coat off—I opened the door a little way, and listened—I heard them say, "You put your head through, Charley, and I will shove your legs through"—then they used a filthy expression, and asked me what I was looking at—I said, "I am looking at you, you scoundrel!"—I saw Gleeson with his coat over his head—there was a nail, with two flowerpots hanging to it—I said, "They are breaking in;" and as I was going downstairs I heard a crash—my husband was about three stairs down; he opened the kitchen
door, and went in from the passage, and lit the gas—I went in the kitchen, and found the five men there; they had broken through from outside—there was glass and wood all over the place; Parry picked up a piece of glass; my carpet was all spoilt; they had been spitting over it, and glass was trodden in—I went to the Police-station—I was very much frightened; it was nearly 1.30—a constable came back with me, and two sergeants and a constable were there when I got back—the sergeant took the names and addresses of the five men, and cautioned them, and the police went away—after that Wallace and Parry came towards the stairs, and said they were going to bed; I said, "You dare go up to my children and interfere with them! I will strike you with the poker"—the police came back in a minute, and said if they went upstairs, or interfered with me, they would interfere with them.
Cross-examined. I signed this bill of sale—I knew I was paying very high interest; I was thoroughly acquainted with what I was doing—I know nothing of whether it is void or not; I signed this account at the same time—I remember "Wrench coming in on 20th December to take possession—he came back about three times between that date and 2nd January; I thought he was there for the same thing—he remained half an hour, not quite so long, each time—we have a dog in the garden, not in the house; it is always loose—I think he must have been drugged that night, as he is very ferocious, and won't allow school children or anyone to come near the wall—I think he has recovered.
FREDERICK AUGUSTUS MONK . I am the prosecutor's son, and am thirteen years old; I am a barrister's? clerk—on the night of 3rd February I heard a knocking at the front door, and heard Wrench, whose voice I knew, asking my father if he was going to let him in—my father said, "Not likely this time of night"—Wrench said, "We will get in somehow"—while my father was speaking to him there was a knock at the back garden door, at the other end of the passage; my father asked who was there; someone said, "Me"—my father said, "Who is me?"—no one answered—he said he would set the dog on him if he did not go away—then someone swore about it—I went into the kitchen, and I saw two or three men jump over the wall, and open the door which leads into the street, and let the other men in, and then two or three stayed in the garden, and two or three came at each door—there were six or seven in all—they made a disturbance—constables came—my father spoke to them from the front drawing-room window—when the men came I ran down-stairs with my father and mother—they said to my mother, "Who is that b——cow?"—they said to a man with his coat on his head, who was trying to get in, "Stick your head in, Charley, and we will shove your legs"—I was with my mother when she looked out of the window—Wallace asked her what the b——hell she was looking at—she said, "I am looking at you"—he said, "What right have you to look at us?" she closed the window, and we went out of the room, and heard a crash—my father, who was on the stairs, went down and lit the gas—all five men were in the kitchen; the prisoners were there—my father said, "Now you have come in you can stay"—then my brother went for a policeman—Parry took up a piece of wood that had been part of the window-sash, and threw it into the garden—three policemen came—I and my mother and sisters were frightened—I saw the wood burnt in the morning.
GEORGE HAWTRY MONK . I am the prosecutor's eldest son, and am a solicitor's clerk—on the night of the 3rd my father came home after nine o'clock—I saw Wrench outside, having an interview with my father inside—I saw a lot of men in the garden, talking and using bad language—I afterwards saw the window-sash smashed—I heard one man tell another to get through, and he would shove his legs through—all three prisoners were round the window—I heard one of them call my mother a bad name—I thought they were rather muddled.
JULIA WEBB . I am a widow, living at 54, Chatham Place, Wells Street, Hackney—I am a friend of Mr. and Mrs. Monk—about 11.30 on the night of the 3rd I went to their house—I saw seven or eight men in front of the house; the prisoners are three—they were very riotous—they followed me down the steps to the house—I was pushed by one—I told him not to insult me—Mrs. Monk spoke to me through a broken window, and I went away—I came back a third time, two or three minutes before one o'clock—I heard a breaking of glass at the back side entrance—I was in the yard when I saw a man getting in at the kitchen window—I heard a man say to him, "If you put your head through I will push your legs through"—they used obscene language—I afterwards saw the three prisoners and two other men in the kitchen—I asked them what they thought of themselves—they said they did not do it—I said, "You did do it, I saw you; I was outside"—the three prisoners were among those trying to push the man through the window; I have no doubt about it—it had been foggy earlier, but by this time it had cleared off, and I could see—I was about six yards off—they were very riotous outside.
JOHN COMYNS (Policeman J 196). I was on duty about 10.30 p.m., and as I passed Mr. Monk's house he called to me from the parlour window—about twenty men were in the roadway, and Parry and Wrench and another man were in front of the house, and Wallace and another man at the back—Monk asked what they were doing—they said, "We are in possession, under a bill of sale"—Wrench said he had been in possession since 20th December, and showed me a warrant authorising them to go in—Monk asked me to eject the men from the garden—I said I had no power to eject, as they were in possession under a bill of sale—I dispersed the crowd—it was very foggy—they were not noisy—some woman was having an altercation with the crowd just before, and then she walked towards me and walked away—I was sent from the station after the entry—I saw the broken door; a cross panel was broken, and another pushed in—glass was lying on the carpet and chairs inside; it was trodden on by the time I got there—the prisoners had been drinking, but were not drunk.
Cross-examined. There was no noise when I was there; the crowd went away very quietly—I had no power to take part in it when I saw the warrant—Mr. Monk was quite sober—I could see the back window; the gas shines on t.
Re-examined. At one o'clock the fog had cleared off, and I could see the door then—I believed it to be an authority to enter peaceably; if I had seen a forcible entry I should have intervened.
AMBROSE YOUNG (Policeman J 441). On 4th February, at 1.15 a.m., I was called to this house, and went in by the back entrance—I saw the three prisoners and two other men in the back kitchen—Mr. Monk said, "I
want protection against these men"—he pointed to the door and window, and said, "See what they have done"—I saw glass panels and the framework of the door smashed, and fragments of wood and glass inside and outside—the Sergeant came about five minutes after me, and took names and addresses at Mr. Monk's request—I left, and then heard a loud shriek from a woman—I returned with the Sergeant, and Mrs. Monk said in the prisoners' presence, "These men are trying to go upstairs; they said they were going to bed"—she was very frightened, almost crying—she seemed more hysterical than anything else—there was no difficulty in seeing six yards at that time; it was not so foggy as it had been—the men said Mr. Monk had broken the door trying to keep them out, but the pieces of wood were undoubtedly broken from the outside.
Cross-examined. They gave their right names and addresses.
FREDERICK OLIVER (Sergeant J R 2). I was called to this house at 1.20, I think—I saw five men in the kitchen—Mr. Monk said they had broken into his house—I asked, "Why?"—they said under a bill of sale, and they said Mr. Monk broke the door himself—I said, "How?"—they said, "Keeping us out"—I said, "Was it necessary for Mr. Monk to use such force as to break his own door in keeping you out?"—they made no reply—they said, "The glass is outside"—I said, "No, it is all over the floor, and even on a chair standing by the table in the middle of the room"—I took their names and addresses, and went away—I heard Mrs. Monk scream; she was up one or two stairs, and seemed agitated, and said the men threatened to go upstairs to bed—they had every appearance of intending to go up, they were at the foot—they were the worse for liquor; I could not say they were drunk.
THOMAS FORD (Sergeant M 10). At 9.30 on 5th February I went to a public-house in Bedfordbury, and arrested Wallace on a warrant, which I read to him—he said, "There was no forcible entry"—I afterwards took Parry, who said, "All right, I will go with you"—I saw Wrench arrested by Billinghurst at the address he gave—he said, "It is not true"—there was no difficulty about it.
MR. GRAIN submitted that the First Count teas framed for forcible entry under the statute, which only referred to lands and tenements, and there being no evidence that the prosecutor had any interest such as that contemplated by the statute, the Count should be withdrawn from the JURY ("Russell on Crimes," p. 404).
(The Prisoners received good characters.)
GUILTY .— Three Months' each, without Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
had this pair of gold earrings on the mantelpiece in the kitchen—I left the kitchen to serve a customer in my shop, leaving the prisoner alone in the kitchen—she followed mo into the shop, and said, "Will you lot me go for the diaper?"—I gave her 3s. to get the diaper to make my boy some pinafores, and she went out—I went into the kitchen directly, to put the earrings into my ears, and the earrings were gone—I went after the prisoner to the linendraper's, and said to her, "Whore are my earrings?"—she said, "Oh, I suppose they are in the ashes; I have not seen the earrings"—I asked her to come homo with mo, and she did so, but I had a hard job to fetch her home and keep her there till a policeman came—she was locked up shortly afterwards—the earrings were worth 14s. or 15s.—she said she had no money, and money was found on her—there was no one in the kitchen but two little babies.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You came to my house about 1.30—the servant-girl was upstairs—you and the two babies were alone in the kitchen; I know nothing about a man—you followed me into the shop, and interrupted me as I was serving a customer, to get money for the diaper, and my servant went out just as you interrupted me—you had been in the house ten minutes—you had not begun your work; you had to fetch the diaper first.
Re-examined. The prisoner asked mo nothing at the Police-court about my servant or a man; the servant came downstairs while the prisoner was in the shop with me, and I was asking her where my earrings were; she was not in the kitchen when the earrings wore there—I left the earrings on the mantelpiece about half-past one, as near as I can guess; I have no clock going in the house, and I cannot swear to the time.
JAMES KIMPTON . I am assistant to Mr. Smith, pawnbroker, of 155, Woodstock Street—I took those earrings in pledge on 22nd February, a little after one o'clock, from the prisoner; I have no doubt about it. (The ticket was in the name of Ann Murphy, 7, New Street.)
GEORGE BURTON (Policeman K 602). On 22nd February, at twenty minutes past two, I was called to 89, Woodstock Street, where Mrs. Leonard said, "I want to charge this woman with stealing a pair of earrings"—the prisoner said, "I stripped as naked as I was born, and I have only a few coppers about me"—I took her to the station, and she was charged; later in the afternoon I went to Mr. Smith's, where these earrings wore given to me; the ticket was not found; the female searcher (who is not here) handed me five shillings in silver and twelve coppers.
Cross-examined. When I took you into custody there was a man, the servant, and a woman in the kitchen; the man did not say to me, "I was there, but I did not see her take them."
MARY LEONARD (Re-examined). My brother-in-law was there at the time of the arrest, because I called and told him the earrings were lost—I could not hold the prisoner; two women came and hold her till a policeman came; my brother-in-law was not in the kitchen at the time.
The Prisoner, in her defence, denied any knowledge of the earrings, and said the servant was in the kitchen at the same time as herself.
She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in August, 1888.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault.— Five Days' Imprisonment.
MR. FULTON Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MOYSES Prosecuted.
JOHN GEORGE MILES . I live at 281, Rotherhithe New Road, and am the prisoner's brother—on 24th December, 1871, I was present when she was married to George Evan Jones—this is the certificate; I was a witness—I saw George Evan Jones at the Police-court on 6th February, this year, when I gave evidence.
SAMUEL BACON . I have independent means—I live at 63, Hauseon Road, Brockley—I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner on 20th September, 1884, at the parish church, Sevenoaks—I knew her first at the latter end of 1880, and I lived with her two years before I married her—she said she was a widow—I knew of no former husband—we were married by our mutual agreement after two years—I heard quite lately her husband was surviving—I gave her into custody—we were always quarrelling, before and after our marriage—she insisted on being married, and I did it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The cause of our quarrelling was your drinking, and you were the cause of my breaking out at times.
RICHARD MILES . The prisoner is my daughter—I knew Jones three years previous to his marrying her from my house—I don't think I have seen him for twenty years now; he was the father of four children when he went away—I should think he lived with my daughter for five years—he left her and enlisted—he was away a long time before we knew where he was; ho was serving in India in the Afghan War—one of his children was left with me, and one he took to his relatives; two died—when I heard where he was I wrote and asked him to help to support the child, and he sent four remittances of £1 each, I think; there might be two years in between, it is irregular—my house was always open to my daughter, and she often came to see me, and sometimes she took the child away with her—I cannot say if I wrote these letters to Jones, my eye
sight is gone—my daughter was shamefully beaten and put upon—I took her to the station, and showed the Inspector what state she was in.
EDWARD ISAAC SHEPHERD . I used to be a constable in the Thames Police—I am a relation of George Evan Jones by marriage, and I know his wife—he came to stay with me at the latter end of 1877 and the beginning of 1878—the prisoner left him for the second time in May, 1878, I think, leaving a baby behind her—my wife was confined in August, 1878, and it was just before that the prisoner left Jones—I have not seen him with her since—I shifted to the other side of the water from that on which he lodged with me—the first time I saw her was when she came to my house on a Sunday and kicked up a row, and I ordered her out of the place—I don't know if they lived peaceably.
The Prisoner, in her statement before the Magistrate, said she did not know her relations were receiving money from her husband, and that she did not know he was alive when she married the second time.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN appeared for Brooks; and MR. HUTTON for Butcher.
ALICE SILVERTHORNE . I am the prosecutor's niece, and live at 37, New Road, Woolwich—at the end of May, 1888, I turned out a mare in a field at Town Park, Charlton—I missed her about June 15th, and gave information to the police—I saw her in New Road, Woolwich, in December, 1889, and identified her.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. My uncle gave £30 for her—she was not tied up in the field; there were several horses there—I have known her about three years, and have driven behind her no end of times—I saw her again eighteen months afterwards; she was then brown, and the one we lost was black; horses generally change colour when they are clipped in winter—her name was Kitty, and I only had to call her, and she turned round and looked at me—she is now turning black again; she has a white spot on her forehead, and white saddle-marks.
WILLIAM HENRY WIDDECOMB . I am a jobmaster, of Fairway, Bromley Court—on 20th June, 1888, the two prisoners came to me about three p.m., bringing a black mare—Brooks sold her to me—I gave him another horse and £5 for her—he conducted the sale, but Butcher was present—Brooks gave me this receipt—he said he got the horse in exchange—I knew him well; I had bought a cart of him twelve months before—he is a blacksmith—I knew Butcher slightly—I sold the mare to Mr. Ackhurst in October, and about six weeks afterwards she was owned.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Farningham is ten miles from Bromley—there is a horse fair there once a year—I have bought horses there—I do not always expect the truth to be told about them—I have known Brooks about four years—he has borne a good character, as far as I know—I gave £7 10s. for the horse I gave in exchange for it—this mare is only worth £15 or £16—if the police had made inquiries I could have put them on the track at once—the tail has not been docked, nor has sulphur been put on it—I drove it openly—I let horses out.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. It was black, but I had it clipped; if you clip a black horse it is brown.
Re-examined. I saw her outside the station, and have no doubt she is
the same mare that I bought in June, and sold in October twelve months.
JOHN SNELGROVE (Detective P). On 18th January, about 9.30 p.m., I took Brooks in High Street, Bromley, and I told him he would be charged with stealing the black mare he sold to Mr. Wilkinson—he said, "I did not steal her; I sold her for a man named Butcher."
FREDERICK ALEXANDER (Detective R). On 19th January I received Brooks in custody at Bromley Station, and told him the charge—he said, "I went to Mr. Widdecomb with Butcher to sell her. I told Mr. Widdecomb the horse was mine: I rode with him, and he bought the mare for £5, and another horse, in exchange for the one I had, and after that I and Butcher went into partnership. Butcher used to put horses into my stable at Croydon"—on 3rd February Butcher was at the station, and I told him he would be charged with Brooks—he said, "All right; now I know all about it."
Butcher in his Statement before the Magistrate, said that he bought the mare in Smithfield Market for £12.
Brooks received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
Witness for Butcher.
HORACE BOXALL . I am a blacksmith, of the Fox-under-the-Hill, Croydon—about May or June, 1888, a short dark man brought me a black horse to my door for sale; I said I did not want one, but Mr. Hayward wanted one, and I went across to him, and he came back with me and tried the horse—it was a cob, and was harnessed in a cart; I do not know whether it was a horse or a mare—I never saw it afterwards.
EDWARD HAYWARD . I am a chimney sweep, of Window Bridge, Croydon—I remember a black mare, fourteen or fourteen and a half high, being for sale after February 9th and before June 9th; she was being hawked about—I did not see Butcher with her—I thought she was pure black; I saw no spots on her, though I drove her three or four miles.
BUTCHER— NOT GUILTY .
Before Lord Chief Justice Coleridge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, HORACE AVORY and BIRON Prosecuted;
MESSRS. KEITH FRITH and SANDS Defended.
JANE HAMPSHIRE . I am the wife of Henry Hampshire, and live at 115, Rockingham Street, Newington Causeway—I have been lodging with the prisoner there for six weeks; I occupied two rooms—the prisoner had six children, three boys and three girls; the youngest was about four or five months old—I saw that child during the time I was there; it appeared pretty well in health—during the day the prisoner was at work at Drury Lane Theatre; while she was at work one of her little girls looked after the baby—I first saw the prisoner's husband on 2nd January, between ten and eleven in the morning; I am not quite sure whether
he came alone; I don't know whether he saw the prisoner that day; I saw him leave the house—I next saw him on the 11th, about eleven in the morning; I had been out, and when I returned I saw a van at the door, and he was removing the things, and his children and a former lodger were helping him; I could not say how much furniture he removed; he left one room—it was getting on towards one o'clock when he left with the van and the children—he left the baby with Mrs. Dunning in the house—the prisoner came home about six that evening; I opened the door to her—she noticed that the furniture was gone; she said, "What does this mean?"—I told her husband had removed the furniture, and taken the children with him—she said, What a man, what a man!"—I went into my own apartment—later on Mrs. Dunning called me, and I went to the room that the husband had left furnished—I found the prisoner there, crying very bitterly; the baby was with her—later on I went out with her—I think she had brightened up a little, but she was still very desponding—when we came back I think she went to bed; that was the last I saw of her that night—on Sunday morning, about eleven, I went into her room; she was very dejected, and crying—I asked her if she had been to bed—she said she had, but not to sleep—I went into her room again about one; she was still very low, and crying—about three I went again; she was then in the same condition, and crying—I next saw her at nine at night, standing between our doorways and her room door—I said, "Oh, Mrs. Bevan, have you been out? I thought you were abed"—she said she had been out to post some letters and to have a blow—she asked me would I give those letters to anyone that should come in the morning—she gave me these two (produced), and said if it was Polly came, I was to give them to her with her mother's love, and tell her that she was not so black as she was painted—I then went back to my room—on the following morning I made some tea to take to her—I knocked at her door, and said, "Mrs. Bevan, are you not going to get up? It is half-past ten"—she said, "Come in," and I went in—I asked her how she was, and when I got near her I said, "Oh, dear, how ill you look!"—she said, "I have done it, I have done it! I have taken the lot!"—I said, "For God's sake, what have you done?"—she said, "I have poisoned myself, and I have poisoned my child!"—I saw six glass bottles on the table—I took them to my room—they had "Laudanum; Poison" on them—I called to my little girl to get the mustard box, and I made an emetic and gave it to her, end she vomited very freely—she was in bed at the time; the baby was lying by her side; I sent my little girl for Mr. Passmore, the chemist, and I picked up the baby from the bed; it looked as if it was dying—I shook it about—I sent again for Mr. Passmore, and when he came he fetched an emetic, and gave it to the baby and to the mother—I then sent Mrs. Pyne for Dr. Hooker, and went to the Police-station and brought a policeman in a cab; the prisoner and baby were put into the cab and taken to the hospital—this (produced) is the pillow upon which the baby was lying—the two letters which the prisoner handed to me I gave to Sergeant Fraser.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was crying each time I saw her—she was very full of trouble and wretchedness, wild with grief, and distracted with her misery.
MARY BEVAN . I am a daughter of the prisoner—I am eighteen years of age—my mother is about thirty-nine or forty—I lived at home with my parents up to 1887—my mother has had twelve or thirteen children; five only survived, and were living at home, at 115, Rockingham Street, in November, 1887, I was then living in Long Lane, in the Borough—my father was a gasfitter and plumber—he got into trouble in November, 1887—he was tried in January, 1888, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment with hard labour—during his imprisonment mother went to visit him as often as she was permitted—while I was in service I used to come home and see mother—in September, 1889, she was delivered of the baby, a boy—when I came home from service I used to see her and the baby; it was an illegitimate child—on the 2nd January this year I was at home visiting my mother—father's time of imprisonment was over on 2nd January; he was expected home on that day—mother worked as a machinist at Drury Lane Theatre—she would go to her work about nine in the morning—before she went to her work on the 2nd she asked me to stay and see father when he came home, and explain as best I could the presence of the child—I promised that I would, and she went to her work, leaving me and my brothers and sisters and the baby behind—father returned that morning, and I saw him, and had some conversation with him—he did not believe what I told him—later in the day he left the house, and returned with mother about seven in the evening—they came into the kitchen, where I was with the baby—I heard father ask her whose baby it was, and she said, "Mine"—I then left the kitchen, and heard no more—about fifteen minutes afterwards father left the house, and did not return—there was some correspondence, and a meeting was arranged by letter, in Trinity Square, next day at eleven—I went with mother to that meeting—father was anxious to know the name of the father of the child; mother would not tell him—there was some more conversation, but no arrangement was come to, and they parted somewhat in anger—a further correspondence brought about another meeting on Thursday, the 9th, in Drury Lane, at which the three of us were present—father asked mother what her plans were, and what would be done with the children—she said she had no plan, and she did not know what was to be done with the children—no arrangement was come to, and they parted in anger—I went home with mother, and remained at home till Saturday, the 12th—father came that morning with a van, and removed the furniture, with the exception of one room, which was left furnished, and a sewing machine, mother's clothing and jewellery—I left with my father—I saw no more of my mother until after this event happened—I know my mother's writing; these letters and envelopes are her writing; they are addressed to me. (One of these letters was put in, and read as follows:—"My dear Polly,—This is the last time I shall trouble you, and I do not know whether you will get this. I think you might have told me what he intended doing, as I am quite willing he should have the children, and as he thinks he can do well without me. God knows I can end it, as I cannot live without him or the children. I think you might have left me a clean collar and my old flannel petticoat; you could have kept the other things. Not even a comb to do my hair with; but no matter, I do not require anything; and fancy your taking that money of me in the morning, knowing that I should have sixteen shillings rent to pay on Monday! "Where did you think I was to get it in a few minutes?
Out of it I only see one way, and that I shall take. Do not let the children think too bad of me. As for yourself, I am thoroughly disappointed; I never thought you could have served me as you have done; but no matter I forgive you, and hope you will never have to go through one-quarter of the misery I have * * * Do the boys ask for me, I wonder? This is a day of misery for me, but it will soon end. Good-bye once more, from your miserable mother.")
Cross-examined. Father did not tell mother what he intended to do—as far as I know no message was left to say where the children had been taken—during the time father was away mother had to work very hard to keep her home and the children.
Re-examined. The youngest is about nine—I do not know whether mother wrote to father between the meeting on the 9th and the 11th; I think not; I could not say.
ARTHUR BRADSHAW PASSMORE . I am a chemist, of 89, Union Road, Newington Causeway—on Sunday night, 12th January, about twenty five minutes to nine, the prisoner came to my shop for one pennyworth of laudanum; she brought a bottle for it; I gave her one penny worth—I asked her if she knew it was poison—she said, "Yes"—I said, "You won't take it then?"—she said, "It is for the toothache"—this is the bottle—one pennyworth would be one drachm, 33 grains to the ounce, roughly speaking; that would be about four grains and a half—she left at once—next morning, about half-past nine, a little girl came for me, and afterwards Mrs. Pyne, and in consequence of what they said I went to 115, Rockingham Street—I went up to a bedroom there, and found the prisoner in bed; she appeared as if she had been awakened and was just getting drowsy again—at the same time my attention was called to the child—it was comatose, pallid, and blue about the lips; it certainly presented the appearance of suffering from poison; it was very ill indeed—I at once sent for Dr. Hooper, went back to the shop, prepared an emetic, and brought it back to the house, and gave some of it to the mother and some to the child, to the child first, it was in Mrs. Hampshire's room; it vomited on its night-dress—the mother vomited, but not sufficiently, and I returned to my shop and prepared a stronger emetic, brought it back, and gave her nearly the whole of it, that was quite effectual; what was left I gave to the child, but it did not vomit; I think it all returned through the nose; it did not go down the gullet—I told Mrs. Hampshire, who had the child in her arms, to keep it in motion—I assisted the prisoner out of bed, and walked her up and down, to keep her moving about—she asked me to let her sit still—she said I wanted to take her away—I said I did not—I asked her how much laudanum she had given her child—she said about half a teaspoonful—I asked her when she gave it—she said at eleven the previous night—I asked her how much laudanum she had obtained—she said six separate pennyworths—I asked her if she had had much difficulty in obtaining it—she said yes, at one place, because she was so nervous; she then tried to be as cool as she could, and then obtained it elsewhere—she said she had taken all except half a teaspoonful, which she had given to the child—I asked her why she had given her child the laudanum—she said because her husband had taken away her home and her children—I asked her why he had taken away her children—she said because during his two years' imprisonment
she had had a bastard child, and she said the whole trouble arose because of that child—she also said that if her husband had left her only one child she would not have minded—she seemed thoroughly to appreciate the questions I put to her—the police then arrived, and she was taken away to the hospital—the pillow produced is the one on which I saw the child lying.
Cross-examined. In most cases opium has an exciting effect on the mind and the imagination.
ARTHUR STANLEY WHOLMAN . I am a medical student at Guy's Hospital, and clinical assistant there—on Monday morning, 13th January, the prisoner and a male child were brought there between eleven and twelve—the child was unconscious, its appearance was consistent with poisoning by opium; the pupils were dilated—I treated it as if it had been poisoned; I administered all the usual restoratives for half to three-quarters of an hour; it died imperceptibly.
ARTHUR ELLIS DURHAM . I am a medical student at Guy's—I helped to attend to the prisoner when she was brought there—she was suffering from an early stage of opium poisoning; she vomited while I was there, and I detected the smell of opium—I asked her how much she had taken, she said sixpennyworth, except the few drops she had given to the child.
HERBERT CUFFE . I was senior house physician at Guy's—on 15th January I made a post-mortem on the body of a male child—all the organs were healthy—there was no natural cause that I could assign for its death—I forwarded the internal organs to Dr. Stevenson for analysis; I sealed them up in a jar, and handed them to him on the 25th.
THOMAS STEVENSON , M. D. I am lecturer on medical jurisprudence at Guy's Hospital, and am one of the official analysts to the Home Office—on 24th January I received a packet containing some teaspoons and other articles, amongst them some bottles, labelled "Laudanum," and two pillows, one large and one small; this (produced) is the small one—I subsequently analysed the covering of this one, it had been vomited upon, I discovered on it the constituents of opium or laudanum, on the spoons I found the remains of an emetic, and on the tumbler and the six bottles I found the remains of laudanum—on the 25th I received the jar containing the chief internal organs—I found traces of the constituents of opium, viz., morphia and meconic acid, such traces as I should expect to find in the case of fatal poisoning by opium; in the case of a child, one never expects to find more than traces—half a teaspoonful would contain about two grains of opium—that would be much more than sufficient to cause an infant's death—all the facts stated are consistent with that—I have sometimes known a transitory exciting effect from laudanum for a few minutes, or it may be half an hour, after taking it, after that the patient would become drowsy and lethargic.
Cross-examined. In a child of the age stated I should think four or five drops, one-fifth of a grain, would kill—instances have come under my notice of mothers by mistake giving or taking an overdose—tl is child living until twelve the next day would not point to the conclusion that the dose had been relatively nominal—thirteen hours is rather a long time for the child to have lived, but I have met with a case where it has been as long even after a large dose—the effect is not always more rapid when the dose has been larger; it depends upon circumstances
children may live twelve hours under opium; it is not unusual that they should; opium is a vegetable poison, and quickly absorbed into the blood; it generally produces symptoms within half an hour—opium chiefly passes off in the urine in a few hours; that is how it disappears.
ALFRED BRAZIER (Police Sergeant M 16). I was called to Rockingham Street on the morning of the 13th—I carried the child to the hospital—I found a number of things in the prisoner's room, which I afterwards put together and handed to Dr. Stevenson—Mrs. Hampshire gave me these two letters.
GUILTY of Manslaughter.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, HORACE AVORY, and BIRON Prosecuted; MR. MOYSES Defended.
WILLIAM WARREN (Policeman L 112). On 28th January, about 2 a.m., I was on duty in York Road, Lambeth, and saw three men, of whom the prisoner was one, at the corner of Griffin Street, near the Duke of York public-house—the prisoner was in the doorway in Griffin Street, the other two were in the York Road—as soon as they saw me they went up York Street, the second went into York Road, and the prisoner went down Griffin Street; he afterwards returned into York Street, where he rejoined his companions—two of them went towards a coffee-stall—I kept them in view—I spoke to Wingrave, a brother officer, and he kept them in view—they stood at the coffee-stall about fifteen minutes, then left and went back to York Street, they separated, and then the prisoner went back to the coffee-stall—the other man stood in the middle of York Road—I and Wingrave went up to him, searched him, found nothing on him, and told him to go about his business; we the returned along York Road—I saw the prisoner approaching us, coming from the direction of the coffee-stall towards the Duke of Kent—he turned into Griffin Street, and walked along by the dead wall and came to a lamp-post there, he stopped there close by the lamp-post, where there is a window, and lit his pipe—I crossed over and asked him what he was loitering about for—he said, "Nothing, what for?"—I said, "I have been watching you and another man for the best part of an hour in a very suspicious manner, and I am going to see what you have got about you; unbutton your coat"—he had along coat on; this is it (produced)—he unbuttoned his coat, put his hand to the pipe that he had in his mouth, took it out, and was about to put it in his breastcoat inside pocket, when he made a step back and said, "Will you, you b—?" at the same time drawing a revolver—I saw it shine by the light of the lamp close by, and shouted out to Wingrave, "Look out!"—I made a quick step to my left, and as I moved he immediately fired—he held the revolver as nearly as possible about level with my belt; he pointed downwards like—I saw the flash and hoard the report; Wingrave was on the left side of him, I was on his right, he was facing more towards York Road, a kind of half turn; I was almost close to the wall when I stopped, he was nearer the road; as soon as he fired towards me I rushed at him, and took hold of
his right arm; he swung himself sharp round towards Wingrave and fired; he had the revolver in his left hand—I was holding his right arm at the time he fired the second shot; I saw the flash and heard the report of that shot; it was then we both seized him—Wingrave put his right arm round his neck, and he took hold of Wingrave's left hand; there was a struggle, rather a short one, and we all three pitched head foremost into the road, the prisoner still having the revolver in his hand; when we were struggling on the ground he tried to work it round so as to get it into position to fire again, towards both of us—I was on the top of the prisoner, the other constable was at his side—I could not say that I saw his finger; I still kept hold of his right arm—he made a desperate effort to get his right hand free—after a short struggle, White came up and assisted me; he first struck the prisoner on the leg, and then took the revolver from him—Inspector Martin then came up and the prisoner was taken into custody, taken to the station, and there charged with having housebreaking implements in his possession—I searched him, and found on him six skeleton keys, a picklock, a memorandum-book, a watch, and a chisel—he was also charged with shooting at me and Wingrave, with intent to murder—he made no reply to the charge in my hearing—he was detained, and I and Inspector Sennett went, about seven in the morning, to the doorway of the Duke of York, in which I had seen the prisoner standing; we took this chisel with us; I saw three marks on that doorway near the keyhole, and the chisel exactly fitted those marks—I then returned to the station—about half-past eleven that morning I went before the Magistrate and gave evidence; the prisoner was brought up and charged—I had been on duty for fourteen hours consecutively, from half past nine the previous night, and I left out part through being cross-examined by the clerk of the Court, as to the position in which the revolver was, and so on—the prisoner's coat was taken from him at the station and examined by the Inspector.
Cross-examined. The chisel only fitted one mark, the other two were broken roughly—the door at which I fitted the chisel was in Griffin Street—there are two doors in Griffin Street; it was the one nearest York Road—when I first saw the prisoner he was in the doorway in Griffin Street, close to the corner—I passed him twice before I arrested him; he must have seen me, because I had my cape on; it was a wet night; I did not mention at the Police-court that the prisoner used the expression, "Will you, you b——?"—I was about to give it when I was stopped by the clerk, and when I started my evidence again I was muddled like—the prisoner's pocket was on fire; I have the pipe here; I don't think there was much tobacco in it when I found it; I did not look much into it—his coat was taken off, and White carried it to the station; it was given to the prisoner after he was charged, when he was going into the cell; I had never seen the prisoner before to my knowledge—I first saw him shortly after two, and I arrested him at three—I did not arrest him when he was at the coffee-stall, because I wanted to watch his movements a little more; my suspicions were aroused when the other man disappeared so suddenly—I have been twelve years in the force; I did not know he had attempted the public-house until after he was charged—I was not confused and excited during the struggle; when I was on the top of the prisoner it was rather an exciting moment—I did not seize his arm till after he had fired; I asked him to unbutton his
coat, and he did so at once—when he put his hand into his; pocket I did not think he was going to get a revolver, or I should have stopped him; it was all done at the same moment, it took me off my guard—after he fired the first shot I took hold of his right arm; his left arm was free—he might have fired a second shot at me, but he did not; he turned it round the other way; he wag about two feet from me; he levelled the revolver as near as possible at my belt; the revolver did not go off in his pocket; he fired after it was out of his pocket—I think the undercoat he had on is the one he has on now—he said nothing about there being a hole in that; he said, "Can't you see my coat is on fire?"—he did not ask anyone to take the revolver from him; it was taken from him before the Inspector arrived—shortly before I saw these men there had been a disturbance in the neighbourhood; a prostitute had been making a noise there—I sent her away; she was not locked up—I should not think that brought the prisoner out of his house, because he passed by his house afterwards.
Re-examined. He lived at 46, York Road at that time—I first noticed that his pocket was on fire when Martin came up; after we got him of: the ground; it was the same pocket into which I had seen him put the pipe; attention was called to that pocket at the station, and the Inspector looked at it; nothing was said about the other coat—this is the first reference that has been made to it.
CHARLES WINGRAVE (Policeman L 257). On 28th January, about twenty-five minutes past two a.m., I was on duty in York Road—two men passed in the direction of the coffee-stall, the prisoner was one of them—after that Warren came up and spoke to me; in consequence of what he said to me I kept them in view, following them towards the coffee-stall; they remained there some little time and then returned, going to the earner of York Street; there they parted, the second man stood still at the corner of York Street, the prisoner returned in the direction of the coffee-stall—I searched the other man, but found nothing on him; I then returned towards the Duke of York—I saw them look round several times, which excited my suspicion—I saw the prisoner come to the corner of Griffin Street, I was standing on the opposite side—he turned down Griffin Street about thirty yards, near the lamp-post, and I saw him light his pipe in the window—after that I and Warren went up to him; Warren said, "What are you loitering about here for?"—he said, "Nothing, what for?"—Warren said, "I have been watching you and the other man loitering about for nearly an hour, and I want to see what you have upon you; unbutton your coat?"—he unbuttoned it with his left hand, took out his pipe and dropped it into his breast-pocket, at the same time he took out the revolver and said, "Will you, you b—? I heard the report and saw the flash, and the prisoner then turned sharp round and fired in my direction, aiming both times at the lower part of my body—I did not see the revolver at the first shot; I saw the flash, and when he fired the second one I saw the revolver, and it was pointed in my direction—I then seized his left hand, and Warren his right, and there was a struggle between us, and we came down into the roadway—I could not say exactly about his finger being over the trigger, he kept trying to get it round, and I forced it back three or four times; then White came up and took the revolver from him; then Martin came up, and he was taken to the station—the prisoner said, "My pocket is on
fire, put it out"—he took off his coat, and Martin put the fire out, it was smoking—Sennett examined the coat at the station—I afterwards went to the prisoner's house, but did not go in.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner just over half an hoar before interfering with him; I was not with Warren from the first, I was with him from twenty-five minutes past two—I accosted the prisoner, I think, just over a quarter of an hour after he left the coffee-stall—I was not more than two feet from him when the revolver went off—his arm was free at that time—Warren was not more than a foot from him; as he fired he went back, and Warren went forward with him—he fired at about Warren's belt; I can't say how he came to 'miss him, except it was having the pistol in his left hand—I have never expressed the opinion that it was used to frighten us—I have had no conversation with Rogers about that, I might have mentioned the pistol to him—I mean that he fired with a free hand at Warren when only a foot from his body, and missed him, and then he turned and fired at me, and missed me; the lamp was almost at our back, and he had his back to the wall; I was on his left and Warren on his right; he fired with his left hand—I think Warren and I seized him about the same time; I seized his left hand with my right, and my left hand I put round his neck; that was after the revolver had been discharged twice—I was first examined on the remand on the 14th, a week after—I think I was the first witness that used the words, "Will you, you b—?"—at the next hearing Warren said those words were used—I had seen the prisoner about before, but did not know who he was—I should say the struggle lasted about three minutes—there was fire in his pocket—I did not smell the place where the holes were.
PETER WHITE (Policeman L 119). On this morning I heard the report of two shots—I ran down Griffin Street, and saw the two constables and the prisoner fall in the road—I went to their assistance, and took the revolver from the prisoner's left hand; his forefinger was on the trigger, and Warren's right hand was on it—I wrenched the revolver out of his hand, turning his finger back.
Cross-examined. I had been observing the prisoner before this for about ten minutes—the two reports were within about three seconds of each other, as near as possible—when the constables went up to the prisoner I was at the corner of Vine Street, running upon my tip-toes—the prisoner stopped and looked round, that excited my suspicion—I looked at him; I saw nothing bulky about his clothes—I stood in a doorway; he walked up about fifty yards, and stopped on the side of the kerb, and looked round—he then turned and walked away, and I followed him—I saw nothing to arouse my suspicion till then—I did not see the two constables then—the prisoner's finger was on the trigger when I took it from him—I put my hand across the barrel and wrenched it from him—I suppose it would have been an easy thing for him to have pulled the trigger—I was a little excited—I asked the constable if he was shot; he made no answer—the prisoner was kicking then, and I struck him across the leg—they said, "Look out! he has a revolver in his hand"—it was a fierce struggle while it lasted—the prisoner said nothing—from the time I first heard the report till I reached them, I suppose would be nearly a minute—I was about fifty yards off when I first heard the report; I was about thirty yards from the corner of Griffin Street; the streets were
very quiet at that time—before the report I had not heard any sound or call from anyone.
THOMAS MARTIN (Police Inspector). On 28th January, about three a.m., I was on duty in Griffin Street—I heard the sound of firearms, one shortly after the other—I looked up Griffin Street, and saw some people struggling on the ground—I went to the spot, and saw the prisoner held by Warren and Wingrave; I also saw White there with the revolver in his hand—Warren said, "This man has fired off a revolver"—the prisoner said, "Let me get up"—he was allowed to get up—I saw smoke coming from the inside of his overcoat—I examined, and found the pocket on fire inside; I pulled it out and extinguished it; the pocket was empty, and burnt through; and at the bottom, between the lining and the cloth, I found this wooden pipe; there was nothing in it but a little dust at the bottom—I could not discover any tobacco there—there was a hole about an inch square in the lining of the coat just below the pocket—I had to put my finger in it to extract the pipe—I sent the prisoner to the station—I had a search made for the other man.
Cross-examined. When I got to the spot I found the prisoner standing close to the lamp, within two or three yards—the two reports were very rapid, within two or three seconds—I was about 100 yards off—I heard no call or any voice before I heard the reports—I saw the smoke issuing from the pistol—the prisoner said, "Don't you see my pocket is on fire? that is where the pistol went off"—that was directly I got up—I said, "Let him get up," and directly he got up the smoke was seen—there was no attempt to resist his being taken to the station—there was a little tobacco-dust at the bottom of the pipe; I could not say that it was warm.
GEORGE SENNETT (Police Inspector L). I was in charge of Kennington Lane Station on 28th January—about a quarter-past three a.m. the prisoner was brought in by Warren, who made a full statement—the prisoner was searched, and a number of things were found on him—after that he was charged with the possession of housebreaking implements by night, and shooting at the two officers—he said, "I suppose I can have bail; I can explain the possession of these things to the Magistrate in the morning"—I said, "Certainly not"—he made no remark about the shooting—I examined the revolver; it was still loaded in four chambers with ball cartridge—in the other two I found discharged cartridges—he was asked his address, and he gave 46, York Street—I went there with Sergeant Ward—I searched the shop parlour, and under a sack, lying on a couch, I found this canvas bag, containing seventeen keys, eight of which are skeletons.
Cross-examined. After one chamber of the revolver is charged, the hammer does not require to be re-cocked; you could fire half a dozen times right off—this chisel is an ordinary one.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). On 28th January I was at Kennington Lane Station at four a.m., and there saw Warren; he gave me a detailed account of the proceedings of that evening—I found these forty five cartridges at the prisoner's lodging; they correspond precisely with those in the revolver.
on the footway, about five yards from the lamp post, and about three feet from the wall.
GUILTY on the two last Counts.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
GUILTY of the attempt— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. POLAND, Q. C., and BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. MURPHY, Q. C., with MESSRS. PAUL TAYLOR and J. H. MURPHY, Defended.
LEWIS HENRY ISAACS . I live at No. 2, Pembridge Square, Bayswater, and have offices at 3, Verulam Buildings, Gray's Inn, where I carry on the profession of an architect and surveyor—the defendant was employed as a nursery governess about the end of September, 1888, and was with us for three years and a month—she left at the end of October, 1881—after leaving she went to a lady at Hendon, and afterwards to North Germany, to improve her qualifications as a governess—she returned in 1884—my wife died in June, 1882—when the defendant returned my daughter, to whom she had been nursery governess, was alive, and is still living—I met her on her return at her request—some time after her return there was intercourse, and in April, 1887, a child was born—Dr. Coker attended her, not at my request; she appointed him as her surgeon—I made her an allowance prior to her confinement, and some time after that I made a settlement on her; I think that was in August, 1888—Dr. Coker and Miss Emslie, a schoolfellow and friend, who had been in Germany with her, became her trustees—the settlement was £2,000 absolutely invested for the child, and £1,000 was given to her to go into a business with, and £600 to purchase the house in which, she was then residing—subsequently she came to the House of Commons to see me—she had an allowance of £200 a year at the time I made the settlement—she came to the House of Commons to represent to me that she could not live on £200 a year, and I must increase it, and I ultimately consented to make it £400 a year during my life—I think that was in the year following the settlement—I have taken the trouble to cast up the cheques for the last year, and I find them considerably in excess of that sum; £930 5s. 8d. is the exact figure up to the 8th October—a portion of that was for furnishing her house—on 5th October I received this letter by post; it is her writing—before that she had spoken of her approaching marriage. (Letter read: "Richmond, Saturday morning. Received your second letter this morning. The truth is an amalgamation of circumstances has made me thoroughly ill, and it is absolutely impossible for me to live on here, and I want to talk the matter over with you, and I shall never get better while I have it on my mind. I do not intend asking you to advance my next month's allowance. Pray do not further delay, but make, as you suggest, an appointment for the beginning of the week. You never have a moment to talk, on account of clients' visits, if I come up, and I dislike doing so very much. To Major Isaacs, M. P., 3, Verulam Buildings, Gray's Inn")—I rep lied to that, and
in pursuance of an appointment I went to Richmond on 8th October—I reached her house between half-past four and five—I had been there twice before—she kept a servant—I had never seen the young man she was about to be married to; I had only seen his portrait on a bracelet—on 8th October I knocked at the door, and it was opened by the prisoner—I entered the house, and the front door was closed after I entered—I went into the dining-room; she followed me; when she got in she immediately locked the door, and took the key out, and deposited it in a cabinet—she then produced a revolver and said, "You and I are alone in this house, and if you wish to leave it alive you will sign this paper," pointing to a paper on the table—I read it—I said as to the opening paragraph, alleging that I had seduced her with violence, I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than sign it, and I tore it off immediately—she was at the other end, lengthways, of the dining-room table, which was probably 7 to 8 feet long—she then asked me to sign a simple declaration that I had seduced her—I said, "I cannot see the benefit it would be to you; but if you wish it, you shall have it," and I wrote on another paper an admission that I had seduced her—I then signed this paper, which is her writing, and from which I had torn the top part. (This document was read, as follows: "The sum of £20,000 in the following sums: I give her now a cheque for £200, payable at once, and a cheque for £1,800, payable the day after to-morrow, Thursday, October 10th, 1889; and I undertake to pay her the balance, £18,000, on Tuesday, October 22nd, 1889, a fortnight from to-day")—she asked me to give her cheques for the amounts stated in the paper, and I said I had no cheque-book with me; she said, "That does not matter; here are pieces of paper ready stamped, you can write the cheques on these," and she brought three blank pieces of paper (halfsheets of note paper, I think, that size), each with a penny stamp on it, out of a drawer—the revolver was in her hand; she had retained it the whole time—she said if I wished to see my daughter alive, and if I cared for the prestige of my name, I would sign and fill in the cheques—she was standing in the same place near the window, by the side of the cabinet and drawer, and the length of the table from me, and had the revolver in her right hand—I was sitting—I saw the whole character and scope of the plot, and felt there was nothing left for me to do but to close with her and get the pistol from her, and get out of the house—I got up and moved towards her; she moved away as I came near her—my leg hit against the table and moved it, and it pinned her, so to speak, between the table and the sideboard—I saw the pistol in her right hand in alignment with my head; it looked to me as being very likely to lead to danger, and I threw up my hand as a guard; I was about four or five feet from the pistol then, I think the table was still between us, but I had moved round, and it was less than the full length—when I put up my hand the pistol was discharged, and I received the bullet in my arm, a little below the wrist—I reached her side and laid hold of her hand, I had only one arm then of any use to me; my right arm became instantly swollen and in great pain, but I clenched her and the pistol with the left hand—I exclaimed, "I am shot"—she said, "Where?"—I drew up my sleeve—she saw the wound and the blood oozing from it; she commenced to scream, before I actually reached her side and before she saw the wound, at the last move I made to close with her—after she
saw the wound I think she kissed me; she was highly hysterical, and then laid the pistol on the table—then there was a violent kicking at the dining-room door, and a demand from someone to open it—the prisoner took the key from the drawer where she had placed it, and opened the door, and a young man entered the room and demanded to know what it all meant, and who and what I was—I replied that he had better ask the lady—then I began to feel a little faint from loss of blood and the enormous swelling in the right arm—I asked them to give me a little brandy and water—she procured that for me—I then said I would leave the house, and I did so—the young man went with me to the railway-station, where he left me—I went to Mr. Newth, my surgeon, whose house is near mine, and showed him the injury—I was under treatment for some considerable time—the bullet has not been extracted, it is here—I sent for my solicitor the next day, but I did not institute any prosecution until some time in February—prior to instituting a prosecution I had a great many threatening letters—this letter, in her handwriting, was left on my desk in Verulam Buildings by her personally. Read: "You may rest assured after this that a revenge so sure shall overtake you that escape will be impossible. I dedicate my life to it. It is so truly absurd to think I am foiled in the least because you place this man here to eject me"—these letters and envelopes addressed to me are in the prisoner's writing. (The first letter was dated 14th January, 1890, 13, Northwick Terrace, Maida Vale. It asked for the £40, due on the 1st, to be sent at once, and said she was writing to tell Br. Coker she had decided to accept £8,500 if all were settled at once; £6,000 to be invested in trust, and £1,500, originally intended for the house, and £1,000 added in cash, to bug furniture with. The next letter, dated 18th January, 1890, from the same address, said Dr. Coker had just called, and his visit was fruitless, as it was to persuade her to accept a lower sum than she had named; and that she would not accept a penny less than £8,500 in all.)
Cross-examined. The prisoner was fifteen years and about eight months old when she came into my service—she remained with me for three years and one month—she visited me at my chambers in Verulam Buildings during my late wife's lifetime—I deny that improper intimacy took place then—she came to explain a bill in which there was a mistake; she was there more than once—she afterwards went to school as a pupil teacher—I visited her there, and she came to my house while she was there—I and my daughter have taken her out for drives—then she went to school near Bremerhaven, in Germany—I never promised to marry her—my wife was an invalid for many years before she died—I met the prisoner at the boat when she returned from Germany—I went with her to the First Avenue Hotel that day—we had luncheon there—I did not seduce her, nor was there any intimacy there—I quite admit she was a perfectly virtuous upright girl when I seduced her—during the time I was intimate with her, and after the birth of her child, there was a real affection between us—I was very fond of her—I think she was fond of me; I was very fond of her, and passionately fond of the child—then I made her an allowance, including an annuity of £400 a year—I don't think disputes arose about the allowance, but about her buying a house at Richmond without consulting me first—I had given her £500 to buy the house in which she was residing at West Kensington, but instead of doing that she agreed to purchase a house at Rich-mond
for £2,000; and, having entered into the arrangement, she asked me to come and look at the house—she paid £500 deposit—then she informed me she had entered into an engagement to be married—I don't recollect her saying to me that she was anxious that instead of having an annuity of £400 a year, which might have to be explained to her future husband, a sum should be paid instead—she did not say that to me at that time—what she said was that the £400 was to be paid to her during my life, and she pointed out on more than one occasion what would happen to her in the event of my death, when the £400 would cease, and I said I thought her husband would by that time be able to provide for her—the child lived with her—on the 8th October there was a considerable amount of excitement—I never lost my presence of mind, as is evidenced by the fact that I shielded my head when the pistol was pointed at it—I think the sequence of events was mainly as I have stated; I won't pledge myself to every detail—I am sure the revolver was produced at the early stage of the interview I speak about—I think when I hesitated to sign the blank pieces of paper she said, "Unless you sign them I will shoot you and myself, and make the whole affair public," but it was not the only time she had used such words—I don't recollect her saying anything then about writing a history of her relations with me—I am sure she did not say anything on that occasion about leaving the history of her relations with me behind her, to be published in the Pall Mall Gazette, like Mrs. Langworthy—she may have done so on another occasion; I don't know when that was—she was in a badly-excited state, undoubtedly, during the whole of the interview—at all times she was undoubtedly hysterical—I tore off the part of the paper relating to violence; I most distinctly deny violence was used to her—I left the paper on the table; I did not take any of the pieces away—I tore the piece off, and I did not sign it; it was valueless—I have not got it; my solicitor has not got it, to my knowledge—there was no struggle to get possession of the paper I did sign, the struggle was to get possession of the pistol—I did not try to get the paper back after I had signed it—I moved from the top of the table to the bottom, and then to the side, she having got to the top—that was the paper about £20,000—I left it on the able, some distance in front of me, when I had signed it, I being at one end of the table and she at the other—I was seated the whole of the time—I think she took it up—she held it in her hand, as well as the pistol—I cannot say if it was in the same hand—I did not care about that paper till she asked me to sign the cheques, and then I began to think—I cannot say now what became of the paper—I did not try to get the paper from her; I tried to get the pistol from her; my great desire was to get out of the house, that was all I cared about—I chased her round the table; I made the complete circuit of the table; she retreated as I advanced; that was not to get the paper out of her hand; I assure you my intention was to get the pistol, that I might get out of the house—I pushed the table in the struggle—I went as rapidly as I could towards her; I, of course, lost no time in reaching her side, if you like you may call it rushing; when I reached her side there was a struggle—it was not in the struggle that the pistol went off, it had gone off before I reached her side; I was close to her, which, of course, accounts for the bullet travelling as it has done—I cannot swear that the pistol did not go off accidentally; I did not know, of course, what was
passing through the prisoner's mind when it was discharged—I say now, as I said at the Police-court, I cannot swear that it did not go off accidentally—I never lost my presence of mind completely; I was to some degree excited, as would be Natural under the circumstances—I was not anxious that the document I signed should not be in her possession; I have explained with reference to that my mind was pretty easy; I felt that, extorted from me as it was, under the circumstances, it was not much to be feared—I don't recollect telling her that I was anxious that such a document should not be in her possession; I may have done, I don't recollect it; I don't think it occurred; if it is in the depositions, I suppose I did—I may have told her so—it was not a desirable document to leave behind me, I must say that—I did not wish to take it—I said at the Police-court that she said if I did not sign the paper she would shoot herself, and make the whole thing public—she also threatened to shoot me; that was the time when she produced the blank pieces of paper; it was in the same conversation—she frequently said she would shoot me; she is very hysterical.
Re-examined. I brought nothing away with me except the wound in my arm—the paper I signed was left in the room; I did not touch the piece that was torn off—I did not produce the paper at the Police-court; it was produced by the prisoner's solicitor, and I was asked if that was the paper—when I went to the house I did not know that she had got a revolver—I left the torn piece of paper on the table; I never touched it; I did not bring it away—there was no struggle between us before I was shot, the struggle was when I reached her side—the first time intercourse took place between us I used no violence; it happened at an hotel at the west end of the town, a restaurant—we had not gone to dine there, it was in the afternoon.
OWEN COLE COKER . I am a Licentiate of the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons—in April, 1887, I was called in to attend the prisoner at her confinement, in Percy Road, Shepherd's Bush—I saw both her and Mr. Isaacs for the first time some weeks after the confinement—in August, 1888, I became the prisoner's trustee, at her request; it was for £2,000, when £1,000 was given to her in money; that was done through me—I saw her afterwards from time to time—on 16th October last year I went to 110, Church Road, Richmond, where she was then living, in consequence of a letter she had sent me—I went into the dining-room—she made a statement to me as to what had happened between herself and Mr. Isaacs; she said she had sent for Major Isaacs to come down, and that he came there, and that she presented a paper to him for £20,000—she said she locked the door before that, and that after he had signed the paper he attempted to take it away from her; and that he followed her round the table, and then pushed the table against the sideboard to prevent her escaping; and then she said, "I shot him"—those were the very words she used—I said, "I am very sorry for you, that is the worst act of your life"—I asked her where the servants were, and she said, "Out"—I said, "Where was the woman in charge?"—she said, "Out; there was no one in the house but me"—I think that was all that was said—I asked her where the revolver was purchased—she said, "I purchased it at Beading"—I think I said, "Well, supposing you had killed him, what would you have done?" and I think she replied, "I think I
should have shot myself, "or something to that effect—the next time I saw her was at Ramsgate, when I was telegraphed for—I saw her at the solicitors' office, about four weeks since, on 10th February—I had previously seen her with reference to signing a deed, and discussed the matter with her—I had consented to be a trustee again for £6,000—at the solicitors' office she said she would not accept less than £15,000, and not a penny of it should be in trust; that he should hand it to her in cash—the solicitor said that he was authorised to offer her £8,500; £6,000 in trust, and £2,500 to be handed over in cash—that was her own proposition to me by a letter—she then wrote to me that she would not accept it—she said, if Mr. Isaacs would not give her the £15,000 he should die; she did not say in what way; she said she would murder the child before our eyes, and she also said she would shoot everyone connected with the business—she then left; she positively refused to sign the deed, or accept the sum offered—one day before that, in December, when in Hertford Road, she became very excited when I advised her to accept what was offered—she said she did not care, she would meet him in the street and deliberately run a knife into him—at the solicitors' office Miss Emslie was with her; she had been one of the trustees.
Cross-examined. I first knew the prisoner about a year before her confinement—I attended her afterwards in the country, I believe at Ramsgate—I have not been paid for my attendance; I have sent in a claim to Major Isaacs—I was present at the Police-court, but was not called—I was not in communication with Messers. Wontner from October until this prosecution was instituted, nor during any portion of it—the only communication I had from Messers. Wontner was in January, when the deed was sent, that was after she agreed to accept £8,500; then they wrote, sending the deed, and a letter afterwards, stating that I was to meet Miss Vincent at their office—that was the only communication I had with Messers. "Wontner—I was not in communication with them before I went to the Police-court—I was as to what had occurred in their office—I merely saw the statement that was written after my meeting her at the office—I was called to the Police-court on the morning that she was charged—I was not requested by Messers. Wontner to be there, I don't know by whom I was requested—I have the police telegram here; I don't know who called me—it was not issued by Messers. Wontner; it was sent to my house at nine in the morning—I don't know that Messers. Wontner were responsible for my going there—I don't know whether the prisoner requested me to go—the telegram is dated 12th February, 1890—she was then in custody; she was apprehended the previous evening—I did not know that she was going to be apprehended—the telegram was addressed to me; it was sent from Richmond to Starch Green Police-station, and brought from there to my house at Shepherd's Bush. (Telegram read: "Please inform Dr. Coker Elizabeth Vincent is in custody at Police-station, and will be taken before the Magistrate at ten a.m. to-day; will he come at once? Reply")—I had no communication whatever with Messers. Wontner before that, that I recollect—on the 11th I received a press copy of a note that one of their clerks had made of the interview—I went to Richmond, as I was requested by the telegram—I attended at the Police-court both days, but was not called—I had communicated what the prisoner had said to me about the interview with Major Isaacs —I never thought I should have been brought
here to give evidence against the prisoner—I told him each interview I had with her from time to time, and her threats—I do not recollect her saving when I went to attend her immediately after this occurrence that she had had a fearful accident since I was there—she may have said such a thing; I don't recollect it—she did not say she had a bad head; she sent for me to come over, to tell me what had occurred—I authenticated the statement sent to me, about ten days since—that was the first time I had any idea that I was going to be a witness—I thought I should be called, and I was not called the second time; I went there without any notice; I did not know whether I should be called or not; as a trustee I thought it better to attend—I did not see the prisoner's solicitor since I received the press copy from Messers. Wontner—oh, yes, I did, on the following day—I never told him anything more than I have told here—I think I told him that—I told him what she had told me—I think I told him that she said she had shot Major Isaacs; I don't recollect quite now, but I think so—I spoke to him at one time about what had occurred at Messers. Wontner's office—I don't recollect whether I told him the story about the knife; I don't think so; I don't know.
By the COURT. Really I don't recollect what I did tell—I know I did tell Mr. Dutton what she had told me at Richmond, what she described as having taken place at Richmond—I don't recollect telling Mr. Dutton that she said she would run a knife into Major Isaacs—I did not tell him about her killing the baby; I think Mr. Dutton knew exactly what had taken place; I mink he knew it before—my impression is that I did tell him on a previous occasion—I have seen Mr. Dutton three times, I think—I did not see him for the first time the day after I had given my statement to Messers. Wontner; I correct that, that was not the first time I saw him; I saw him shortly after the prisoner was apprehended, when he wrote to me, then I told him what had occurred at Messers. Wontner's—I think I told him then what had occurred at Messers. Wontner's—I have seen Mr. Dutton three times—I told him, I think, about the press copy the first time I went to his office—I think I made the statement I have made to-day to Mr. Dutton the second time I went, and the first time I showed him the press copy and spoke of her conduct at Messrs, Wontner's—the first time I called I told him what I had known of the case for some years—I don't recollect whether I told him about the conversation I had had with the prisoner in October the first, second, or third time I went—I could not swear I have ever told him about it—I have had a great deal of trouble in the matter since October—I have not been to Messers. Wontner's office more than twice; I have seen Mr. Isaacs at least once or twice a week—I have not expected any pay for seeing him; I have for going to Ramsgate—I am quite indifferent about recompense; I have nothing down in my visiting book—I have no reason to expect payment, but I hope, certainly.
Re-examined. At the interview with the prisoner at Messers. Wontner's, Miss Elmslie and Mr. Inman were there; the following day a press copy of what purported to be notes of what had occurred was sent to me—I saw it was correct—after my statement as a witness that was taken—my full statement as a witness was taken on last Friday week.
to, with a view to her signing it—originally it was a deed for £4,000, then it was increased to £6,000, and there were blanks for securities to be mentioned—on Monday, 10th February, about half-past four p.m., the prisoner came to our office with Miss Elmslie—Dr. Coker was present—she refused to sign the deed—I had read through the clause she objected to—immediately after she left my room with Miss Elmslie I put in writing what I considered to be the substance of what passed—this is the actual paper I then drew up; my signature is on it:—"10th February, 1890. Mrs. Vincent called between 4.30 and 5 with a friend (female). I informed her that I was instructed by Major Isaacs to settle the claim, but that he insisted on £6,000 being invested in the terms of the deed which I had before me, and that I should be in a position to hand her a cheque for £2,500 to-morrow morning. She at once said she would do nothing of the sort; that she required £15,000, and would have the money in her own hands. I pointed out that Major Isaacs was acting in the most liberal manner, and in requiring her to settle £6,000 he was studying her interests. She got up, and said she would not sign the deed, and that Major Isaacs should die, and that she would murder the child, and shoot all that were connected with the business. I asked her if she meant me, and she said, 'Yes; I may as well die for a sheep as a lamb.' I tried to reason with her, but she refused to listen; and on my pointing out that she was greatly mistaken as to Major Isaacs' means, she said she did not care, she would have his last penny. Dr. Coker, who was present, called her attention to a letter she had written, to which she replied that she would have accepted the money a month ago, but she would not have any money in trust. I again tried to reason with her by explaining to her the clauses she had objected to in her letter of Saturday, but she said, 'There is no use our prolonging the interview; he shall die, and so shall I! I will murder the child before your eyes! I will murder the lot of you, and will leave a paper to expose the whole!' Upon this she called her friend and left. (Signed) C. W. INMAN. "—she was very calm and very determined at that interview—I wrote to Major Isaacs the same evening, and the following day I applied for a warrant—the clause in the deed was that she should not molest Major Isaacs or any member of his family.
Cross-examined. I tried to reason with her, not to calm her; I am certain—I begged her to be calm, and listen to reason; she was not hysterical; she was walking up and down the room—you did not ask me if she was hysterical; I said it in favour of the prisoner—I don't think I twice asked her during the interview to be calm—I asked her to sit down and listen to me—I did twice ask her to be calm; I had forgotten it for a moment, till I refreshed my memory with this paper—she was not hysterical—it is going too far to say she acted like a reasonable being—she was not excited; she was walking up and down my room; she would not sit down and listen to what I had to say—she was not in a state of great excitement.
CHARLES VINEY (Detective Sergeant V). I had a warrant, and went on February 11th to 84, Seymour Road, where I found the accused—I told her I was a police officer, and held a warrant for her arrest for attempting to murder a gentleman named Isaacs at Richmond, on 8th October, 1889—she said, "Oh, have you?"—I read the warrant to her—she said,
"That sounds very serious, but it was an accident. Mr. Isaacs came to my house, we had a few words, and he struggled with me to obtain possession of a paper which I had; the pistol Vent off accidentally"—I took her by rail to Richmond—on the way she said, "I wish I had taken the money they offered me yesterday. His solicitor was at my house offering me £8,500, but I was to be bound not to molest him, and also bound that no other persons were to molest him, which I could not be answerable for, and declined the offer"—she desired a telegram to be sent to her "trustee, Dr. Coker, next morning.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court, "She mentioned something about seeding a telegram, so that the case might be withdrawn;" that was the purport of the telegram, so that Mr. Coker and Major Isaacs might meet to see if he could not be got to withdraw from the case—there is no reply to this telegram that I am aware of.
WILLIAM MATHIAS NEWTH . I am a surgeon in Kensington Park Road—on 8th October, at six or seven p.m., Mr. Isaacs called on me, and I examined him—I found his arm very painful, and very much swollen—I saw indications of the entrance of a bullet—I saw the severity of the wound, and said I should like to have further advice, and I took him home, and then fetched Sir William McCormac—Mr. Isaacs was treated for some time, and ultimately it was decided not to extract the bullet—the bullet is there now, lodged in the upper third of the arm; it is plainly to be felt.
MR. ISAACS (Re-examined by MR. MURPHY). I am aware that at the time of this shooting paragraphs were inserted in the papers that I had met with an accident by failing from a scaffold, and was attended by Sir William McCormac and that in a short time I should be all right again, and able to attend to my parliamentary duties—they were not by my sanction—I did not contradict them in any way.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the Prisoner for unlawfully wounding Mr. Isaacs. No evidence was offered by MR. POLAND.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
MARCEL ANDREOLI . I live at 62, Loughborough Park, Brixton, and am an engineering student—on 19th February I was playing in a football match, beginning about half-past two, at Raynes Park, Wimbledon—I had dressed before the match in the pavilion, and hung up my ordinary clothes on a hat-peg in the dressing-room—in my trousers' pocket was my silver watch and chain—after the game was over I went back to the pavilion dressing-room, and in consequence of something told me I at once searched my trousers' pocket, and found my watch and chain, worth about £2, were gone—I found the prisoner detained by the ground man before I searched—we were playing fifty or sixty yards from the pavilion—there was a field between the one we played in and the dressing-room—I had never seen the prisoner before; he had nothing to do with the match to my knowledge—I had no conversation with him; I heard no complaint made.
THOMAS GROVE . I live at 1, Nepean Terrace, Brush Road, Morton, and I look after the football field and pavilion—on 19th February, while the match was going on, I shut the door of the pavilion, and went away for about ten minutes, and on my return I saw the prisoner outside and near the door; he was escaping from the door of the pavilion—when he saw me he ran, and jumped the ditch—I gave chase; I holloaed out for him to stop, he ran the faster, and I after him—Mr. Haskings, the master man of the ground, caught him, and he was brought back and given into custody—the match was going on about 160 yards from the pavilion, I should say—no one was near the pavilion except the prisoner.
ISAAC HASKINGS . I live at 28, Ravenswood Road, Balham, and am proprietor of this ground and the pavilion—on 19th February I was about two hundred yards from the pavilion—I heard Grove call out, and saw him run—the prisoner was behind a hedge; I did not see him then, but I ran and saw him sitting down on a kind of ditch by the hedge, with his back towards me—I got through the hedge, and as I did so he rose up and walked towards me—I had seen him in the field when the play began, but I did not see him run away—I went up and took him by the collar, and he said, "What is the matter?"—I said, "You will very soon know what the matter is"—I did not know what the matter was, I held him till I did know—he said he was only running to catch a train—I said, "You are going the wrong way to catch a train"—I took him to where the men were playing, and asked them to search their things to see if they had lost anything—one said he had lost his watch and so on, and in consequence of what was lost, I sent for a policeman and gave him in to custody—I did not see him searched—I saw some pawn tickets, but none of the lost things.
JOHN BELHAM (Policeman V R 38). On 19th February the prisoner was given into my custody, and charged with stealing a watch and chain and other articles—I asked him what he ran away for—he said he had taken a return ticket from Waterloo, and he wanted to catch a train—I asked him for his return ticket; he felt and said, "I have lost it"—after a few minutes ho said he went there to ease himself—he also said he had not been near the shed—the shed and pavilion are the same place—I searched him at the station and found a purse and 2s. 6 1/2 d. on him; none of the stolen articles were found.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said he went to the field to play himself, but finding there was no game for his club, he watched the match half through, and then went to the urinal behind the shed, and then started running towards the station, but hearing someone shouting, he turned and walked towards a man, who arrested him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
HENRY LEES . I am a carpenter, of 56, Gordon Road, Stoke Newington, and I am member of the Old St. Paul's Football Club—on 15th February it was intended to have a match with the Polytechnic Club—I went to the Eagle, at Leyton—the prisoner sat next to mo there in his football clothes; I did not know him—I loft the Eagle about a quarter past throe, to go to the ground, leaving my bag on the seat next the
prisoner—the game was not played; I returned about five, and found my bag which contained two shirts, a collar, tie, socks, purse with 4s., and four pawntickets, was gone—I did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody—I had conversed with him on that day, and I have not the slightest doubt he is the man I talked to—this purse and these five pawntickets are mine, and were in my bag when I left it—they are the only things I have seen again.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said there were about forty men in the room at the Eagle; that he knew nothing of this bag, but that he bought the tickets and purse for 3s. from a man, of whom he knew nothing, in the train, on his return journey, not knowing they nod been stolen.
The Prisoner called.
ROBERT WILSON (Detective Constable B). This letter was found on the prisoner—I have made inquiries of the gentleman who wrote it, and who can say nothing about him after 29th January. (The letter was: "This is to certify I have known Thomas Trowell for some time, and can bear testimony to his character")—the prisoner was living in Ratcliff House, Fitzroy Square, a mission-house of the Wesleyan Mission; he is a local preacher in the Bishop Stortford District.
Cross-examined. He was in no other employment—from what I could ascertain from the gentleman he was working for his parents—he had not been in the employment of the gentleman.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner, upon which no evidence was offered by the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
POWER— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
BURKE— NOT GUILTY .
292. WILLIAM HOLGATE (41) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Albert Lloyd, and stealing a coat and other articles; also to a previous conviction of felony; also to three other indictments for housebreaking.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WATTS Prosecuted.
ALEXANDER ROBERTSON . I am a compositor, and live at 49, Albany Street, Old Kent Road—at five minutes past twelve on the morning of 4th February, I was crossing over Grey Street and Waterloo Road—it was very foggy; as I got on to the pavement on the other side, I was attacked by two men from behind—the prisoner put his arm round my neck, I caught hold of his hand; the other one was at the back of them, and I felt them rifle this outside pocket—the prisoner tore open my coat to got my watch—I held him and shouted "Police!" and two policemen came running from the other side of the street; hearing their footsteps the prisoner and the other man tried to run off—I kept hold of the prisoner, who gave me a blow on the head and knocked my hat off, and got away, and ran only two or three steps into the two policemen—I did not lose sight of him—I swear he is the man—I charged the prisoner at the station with attempting to steal my watch—I told the Inspector I had not lost anything—going home I missed my latch-key, and 2s. 3d., and my handkerchief, and this wooden pipe—this is a portion of my metal chain—I did not lose the watch—the value of the things I lost was 7s. or 8s.—the prisoner broke my chain—I had had a drop or two, but I was quite sober enough to know what I was about—I had had four stouts and two whiskys between 5. 15 and 11.40—I did not appear at the Police-court the next morning because my throat was so sore with the pressure it had had that I could not speak or swallow—I laid in bed till 4 p.m., and then went to the office; I was all right after I had had another rest—when I was struggling with the prisoner the constables were just on the other side of the street—they ran over when they heard me shout.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you when I caught hold of you—the constable came and asked me why I did not appear to prosecute, and I told him that my throat was too sore, but that I intended to prosecute—he told the Inspector, and the Inspector told him to re-arrest you—he came back to me at twenty minutes past one a.m., and I went with him to the station—I could not see if you threw anything away—I heard the sound of coppers falling down when you were wrestling with me—the latchkey was not found.
HENRY BENNETT (Policeman L 218). On the night of 4th February, at five minutes past twelve, I was on duty in Tower Street—I heard a cry of "Police! "And "Help!" about twenty yards off, and saw the prisoner running from where the sound came from—I stopped the prisoner, and he fell; and the prosecutor came close behind, and said, "I have lost my watch," and gave the prisoner into custody for stealing it—at the station the prosecutor said, "I have not lost my watch," but afterwards he found he had lost a portion of his chain—the prisoner made no answer to the charge—I heard the prosecutor say he had not lost anything—he had been drinking—I told him to come to the Police-court next morning; he understood me—the prisoner was discharged on the 4th, and on the 5th he was re arrested at 12. 35 in the Waterloo Road—he made no reply when charged.
Cross-examined. I did not see you assault the prosecutor—I did not see you drop anything as you ran across the road—you had nothing on you when you were searched—I kept hold of your hands all the time; you had no chance of throwing anything unless you dropped it.
FREDERICK CHEESEMAN (Policeman L 83). I was with Bennett on this night—I heard cries of "Police!" and saw the prisoner running, and Bennett catch hold of him—he fell down, and I caught hold of him—the prosecutor came up and said, "He has taken my watch"—we took him to the station—I afterwards searched the spot where the prisoner was arrested, the side of the road to which he ran, and I found this pipe, a portion of the chain, and threepence bronze.
Cross-examined. I did not see you assault the prosecutor; I did not see you with anything, nor attempt to throw anything away—the Inspector asked the prosecutor if he had lost anything, and he said nothing.
Re-examined. I was twenty yards off when I heard the cry of "Police!"—it was a foggy night; you could see nine or ten yards.
GEORGE SENNETT (Inspector L). I took the charge on 4th February—I asked the prosecutor if he had lost anything—he said "No"—I said, "Are you quite sure?"—he said, "No"—I directed Cheeseman to go and search the place where the prisoner was apprehended—he did so, and brought back this portion of chain, this pipe, and 3d.—the prosecutor did not appear next morning; the prisoner was discharged and re-arrested the same day—he was placed with five or six other men, and the prosecutor was brought into the room, and immediately picked him out—the prosecutor had evidently been drinking, but was not drunk; he knew perfectly what he was doing—he made the same statement to me as he did at the Police-court.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he knocked against the prosecutor and two men, who were wrangling, as he thought, and then he heard the erg of "Stop thief!" and ran across the road.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1881.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MARCH 24TH, 1890.