CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EIGHTH SESSION, HELD MAY 19TH, 1890.
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
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, May 19th, 1890, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR HENRY AARON ISAACS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Knt., Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; EDWARD JAMES GRAY , Esq., DAVID EVANS , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., and ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , 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. EIGHTH 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, May 19th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
412. ALBERT MORGAN (19) and HERMON SOMMERS (21) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a flageolet, the property of George Fullagar Ellis; also, a gold chain and seal, the property of Benjamin Joseph Harmer; also, two rings of Charles Berry; also, to unlawfully obtaining money by false pretences. They received excellent characters from many witnesses.— One Day's Imprisonment each.
415. CHARLES THOMAS UPPERTON (41) [Pleaded guilty: see original file image] , To stealing a half-sovereign, an apron, and other articles out of a letter, whilst in the employ of the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
418. THOMAS PEARSON (32) , To three indictments for embezzling orders for £35, £16 19s., and £30, of Messers. McLean and Co., his masters.— [Pleaded guilty: see original file image] Judgment respited.
419. WILLIAM CHARLES WATSON (28) [Pleaded guilty: see original file image] , To three in dictments for forging and uttering requests for the delivery of goods; and also, to stealing 39 pieces of paper of George Hyde, his master.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted, and MR. MOYSES Defended.
ERNEST BURROWS . I am a gunner in the Royal Artillery, now stationed at Dover—I am a depositor in the Post Office Savings Bank—I made my deposit at Malden, in Essex—I have known the prisoner for three or four months, I worked with him at a bakery at Homerton—on 18th or 19th February I sent my bank-book to the Post Office for
examination—I was then going to enlist—I gave the address, with the prisoner's consent, of "care of Mr. Wallington, 14, Marsh Hill, Homerton," for the book to be returned to—I told the prisoner I had sent the book and when it would come back—on 20th February I enlisted—I asked the prisoner to keep the book till I wrote to him—I wrote two letters to him from Dover Castle—they were both returned to me through the Dead Letter Office—I had £8 5s. 6d. in the bank when I sent my book—the name on this application to withdraw, "Ernest Burrows, Marsh Hill, Homerton," is not my writing—I did not authorise "Wellington or any body to sign my name—the signature on this receipt is not mine—I withdrew no money in February, nor did I ask anyone to do it for me.
Cross-examined. I and the prisoner got to be very friendly—he had been in the army, and had retired with a pension—I eventually found his address by applying to my commanding officer—I expect if he moved his address he had to give notice to the War Office—I wrote after I found his address, and received this reply. (This, dated 20th April, said that if he had known Burrows was in Dover he should have written before; that a week or so after Burrows had gone a man had called and told his. (Wallington's) wife that he had Burrows' orders to take away his box and bank-book, and that his wife let the man have them)—I had left my box there—I found the prisoner very straightforward while I was associated with him—I should not have thought such a thing of him; £6 of the £8 5s. 6d. has been taken out.
Re-examined. I got the letter on the day it bears date—I enlisted on 20th February—the application to withdraw was on 24th February—I knew Mrs. Wellington.
CHARLES SLOCUM . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department of the General Post Office—on 25th February this notice of withdrawal came into my hands; it bears the department stamps with dates—I made out this warrant for £6 on the same day, and addressed it to the address on the flap—it would be posted on the evening of the 25th, I expect; it would go in the ordinary course—this is the one I made out.
ANNIE GORDON . I am the wife of William Ireland Gordon, of 14, Marsh Hill, Homerton—the prisoner lodged at my house for some time, and left on 27th February—he gave no address where he was going to—his wife told me they were going to Notting Hill—after he left two letters with the Dover postmark came for him—I kept one for some time, and then another came, and I returned them to the postman.
Cross-examined. He paid his rent up to 26th February—on Sunday, 23rd February, a telegram came for him from Mr. Dowell, a baker, at Pimlico, and he went away that day—he returned on the Thursday, and went away with his family and his things in a van that day.
EDITH ROLFE . I am employed at the post-office, High Street, Homer ton—I cashed this warrant for £6 on 26th February, to a person who signed in my presence, a deposit-book was produced at the same time—I don't remember the person to whom I paid it—our office is open from 9 to 6 for the payment of withdrawals.
Cross-examined. We have a list of withdrawals each day, which is forwarded to the General Post Office at night—we have no copy of it—I remember paying this £6, I think it was in the afternoon; it was after dinner; it was the only one paid that day—it must have been paid to a man.
WILLIAM FEELEY LOVELL . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Depart ment of the General Post Office—I was requested to make inquiry into this matter—on 6th April I went with Burrows to the prisoner's lodgings, at 13, Colchester Street, Pimlico—I said to him, pointing to Burrows, "We have come to you to make inquiries about this young man's Savings Bank book"—he said to Burrows, "You have had a letter from me, have you not?"—Burrows said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "That is all I know about it; it is all in that letter"—I said "Before issuing a new book the Post Office felt bound to make inquiries"—the prisoner said, "A strange man called for your book and clothes, and my wife gave them to him—I asked to see his wife—he said she was away in the country, and would not be back till Satur day—I asked him to make a statement as to what he knew about, the book, and he wrote this statement in the presence of Burrows and me: "April 30th, 1890. I knew Ernest Burrows at Homerton, and about a week or fortnight after he had enlisted a tallish young man came to my place of abode, saying Mr. Burrows had sent him for his clothes. So my wife let him have them. I have not seen anything more of him since. The Savings Bank book was given with the clothes.—JOHN WALLINGTON. It came to my house in a cover, to 14, Marsh Hill, Homer ton; I did not see the man myself who come for Ernest Burrows' things"—I have had twenty years' experience in the comparison of hand writing, it has been my daily work for twenty years or more; difficult signatures are submitted to me—I have not the slightest doubt that the notice of withdrawal is in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. He added that his wife was in Oxford-shire—I did not tell the prisoner I had the notice of withdrawal and the warrant with me when I called on him; I had them—I did not caution him before he wrote the statement; I made no reference to the withdrawal—his manner was very excited, and he looked frightened, and I limited my inquiries to the book—I came to the conclusion that the withdrawal notice and statement were by the same hand, after very close comparison—it did not take long, but it was made exhaustively—I had a glass, though there was no occasion for it—I was fully convinced ten minutes after I had the statement—the prisoner was arrested two months after it happened—I have not followed the histories of Chabot and Nether-clift—I said in my information, "I am strongly of opinion that the name and address were written by Wellington"—if that is a different expression to the one I have used to-day it is not intended to convey any difference—observation had been kept on the prisoner's movements for some few days beforehand.
Re-examined. I said to the prisoner, "Can you give me any description of this strange man who called at the house for Burrows' book and clothes?"—he said, "No, except that he was a tallish young man"—I said, "Did he produce an authority of any kind?"—he said, "No"—he said his wife saw him, and that he did not; he cannot call his wife.
CHARLES JAMES STEVENS . I am senior clerk in the Confidential Department of the General Post Office; I have been in the Post Office thirty-nine years—for twenty years I have had experience in the comparison of handwriting—I have carefully compared the writing of this statement made by the prisoner and this notice of withdrawal, and I believe they were both written by the same person.
Cross-examined. My opinion was obtained while the prisoner was at the Police-court; I did not attend there.
MATTHEW TOWER . I am a police constable attached to the Post Office—on 2nd May I arrested the prisoner at 13, Colchester Street—I read the warrant and showed it to him—he made no observation—I took him to the station; he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. Going in the cab to Bow Street he said, "I didn't think I was wanted; last evening at 11 o'clock I went up to the top of the street and stood by the side of a detective, and he did not say any thing to me"—I was there and left at 10 o'clock—observation had been kept on the prisoner for about three days.
Two witnesses were called to the Prisoners character.
GUILTY — Twelve Months'-Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 19th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. K. FRITH Defended.
CHARLES YEMAN . I keep The Plough, 557, Old Ford Road—on 17th April I served the prisoner with half a pint of beer; he tendered a half crown, I gave him two single shillings and fourpence-halfpenny change; he drank the beer and left—I looked at the coin not a second afterwards, tested it, and found it bad—I followed him 150 yards, he joined another man—I followed them to the Broadway, Stratford, a mile or a mile and a quarter, but did not see a constable—the prisoner stopped at a fish monger's shop, and his companion walked on a yard or two—I got on a tram and passed them—I saw a constable, and got down, and went back to where the prisoner was looking at a crab—I told him I should give him in custody for tendering this half-crown—he said, "I have not been to Bow"—I said, "You have"—I showed him the half-crown, and said he had given it in payment for the beer he had called for; he denied it, and at lie station he said, "If I tendered you the half-crown, why did not you find it out while I was on the premises?"—I gave him in custody; I am sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I put the half-crown on the shelf—I have no assist ant but my wife, and she was not in the bar that day—I had not left the bar; I had my meals there—I had never seen the prisoner before—this is the half-crown (produced).
WILLIAM BLAKE . I am assistant to Alfred White, a fishmonger, of Broadway, Stratford—on 17th April the prisoner purchased a crab, price threepence, and gave me a florin—I threw it up, and the cashier gave me one shilling, sixpence, and a threepenny piece, which I gave to the prisoner, CLARA DEARLOVE. I am cashier to Mr. White—I heard the prisoner ask for a crab; Blake brought me a florin, and I gave him a shilling, a sixpence, and threepence—I put the florin on top of the other money, and soon afterwards a communication was made to me and Mr. White took the same coin and gave it to me—it was bad—I had not noticed that before—the constable marked it—I took no other florin after I put this one on top of the money.
THOMAS LEADLEY (Policeman K 422). On 17th April, about 2.45 p.m., Yeman pointed out the prisoner to me at a fishmonger's shop—I went across to him and said, "The landlord of the Plough beer-house is going to charge you with uttering counterfeit coin at his house, do you know anything about it?"—he said, "No; I have not been to the Plough"—I was in uniform—Mr. Yeman came up and said, "Yes, you are the man who paid this," and produced a half-crown—he said, "No, governor, you have made a mistake, I have not been to Bow"—on the way to the station he said to the prosecutor, "If I did pass that half-crown in your house you should have found it out before I left"—before he was searched he produced a half-crown, a florin, a shilling, a sixpence, and threepence, all good—I found one penny on him and the remains of a crab—I said, "What coin did you give in payment for the crab?"—he said, "I gave one shilling, and received nine-pence change"—I then went to the fish shop, received the florin and marked it.
Cross-examined. He has been in prison since April 18th, and would be seen by the warders, detective sergeants and uniform police, and nothing was known against him—he is a costermonger—I have been 5 years and 3 months in the police—it has not come to my knowledge that people frequently prevent their friends from discovering that they are in trouble—I did not find any tissue paper in his pocket and never heard of it in any coining case—I have never heard that people who utter counterfeit coin keep it wrapped in paper—nothing is known against the prisoner.
Re-examined. Nichols told me this morning that he has had the prisoner under observation—when I say that I know nothing against him, I mean that I know of no conviction against him.
NICHOLS. I know the prisoner as the associate of coiners—his character is bad.
MR. KEITH FRITH asked the COMMON SERJEANT to reserve the point at to whether no general evidence of good character having been elicited by him. MR. WILMOTT had been entitled to call rebutting testimony as to general bad character. (Queen v. Rowton, 10 Cox 25.) After hearing MR. WILMOTT, the COMMON SERJEANT ruled that as it had been laid down in the ease cited that nothing had been heard against a person's character was the most cogent evidence of good character, there was no case for him to reserve.
GUILTY. — Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT—Tuesday, May 20th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude,
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, May 20th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
424. RICHARD REYNOLDS (37) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Everleigh £1 14s.; from William, Wing, a truck of potatoes; and other goods from other persons, with intent to defaud; also, to a conviction of misdemeanour in March, 1886, in the name of Henry Harris , and to a conviction of felony in July, 1888, at this Court, in the name of Albert Martin .— Judgment respited.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
The JURY could not agree, and were discharged without giving a verdict. For other cases tried this day, see Kent and Essex cases.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 20th, and
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 21st 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder,
426. JOHN SMITH (21) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of David Glasgow, with intent to steal, after a conviction of felony on February 4th, 1889, in the name of John Turner ; he PLEADED GUILTY to the burglary, but not to the previous conviction.
HENRY WARD . I am principal warder of Wandsworth Gaol—I was present at the prisoner's trial—this is the certificate.(John Turner, convicted February 4th, 1889, of stealing 2 carts and a gelding and harness, having been previously convicted—Sentence 15 months' hard labour)—he was in my care afterwards, and was only discharged on the 3rd of this month—he is the same person.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
EMILY HUNT . I live at Deacon's Tavern—on 11th April, about 5.30 p.m., I saw the fire-irons safe on the second-floor smoking-room—I afterwards saw the prisoner outside the door of the room with a large brown paper parcel, and the end of a shovel was sticking out of it—I watched him downstairs into the bar, I then went into the smoking-room and missed the fire-irons, I called down the pipe into the bar—on the following Thursday I pointed the prisoner out from several men in the bar.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I first saw you in the bar I said, "I believe that is the man," because you bent your head and concealed your features, therefore I hesitated at first—I did not say that you were wearing another hat and trousers—I did not mention your clothing—I was too surprised to stop you, and I did not know they were our fire irons till I went in and missed them—I have never seen them since.
By the COURT. I am sure the prisoner is the man.
gentlemen in the bar, and I told him to place himself where he liked, and that it was on suspicion of stealing a set of fire-irons from the house—he stood at the bar and called for drink; the girl was brought down and said, "I believe that is him," and when she got a good look at him she said, "Yes, that is him."
Cross-examined. I did not say at the Mansion House that you were wearing another coat and hat; that was said by another constable—Hunt described you as wearing dark clothes, a hat with a silk band, a shabby-genteel appearance, upwards of 40 years of age, face not shaven, whiskers not very long, a man who did not shave at all—I did not say, "I suppose she was afraid of perjuring herself,"
Prisoner's Defence. I was not within a mile of the house on the day in question.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NICHOLAS LEWIS . I am a baker of 141, Brick Lane, Whitechapel—on 14th April, about 5 p.m., I left my cart outside the Comet public-house, Christian Street, in charge of my brother-in-law—I called him in to have a drink—the landlord said something, and I went out and missed my cart—I found it two days afterwards at Witham, in Essex, detained by the police.
ALBERT PEARCE (Police Sergeant H). On 16th April I went to Witham and saw the prisoners—I charged them with stealing the horse and trap, Hostler said, "You must ask this man," pointing to Brown, "I am only his servant, I came with him for a ride"—Brown said, "This is the fruits of getting boozed"—Hostler said, "If we had not been drunk we should never have done it"—I saw the horse and trap there—Lewis identified it.
Cross-examined. Nothing had been sold—Kelvedon is four miles from Witham, the prisoners were arrested by the Kelvedon police, who brought them to Witham—Hostler is a manufacturer of non-intoxicating drinks—he has never had any charge made against him.
SAMUEL FELTON RAYMOND . I am a coach-builder, and keep the Queen's Head Hotel, Kelvedon—on April 15th the prisoners came there, leading a trap—they did not seem at all drunk, Hostler paid for a pot of ale.
ZACHARIAH ROGERS PATTEN . I am a horsedealer of Hatfield Peverel, near Chelmsford—on Tuesday, April 15th, at 7 a.m. the two prisoners came in a trap to the Swan, where I was staying—Brown was driving—they had a quart of beer, which Brown paid for—they were sober—they said they were going to Cogglesham, and Hostler said, "Do you know any one who will buy the horse and trap for £20?"—they said, "We are out on a spree and mean to sell the horse and cart"—I advised them to go to Thomas Champion at Kelvedon, and they drove away.
Cross-examined. I am a judge of horses—I said that I was not buying to-day—it was a nice little cob—Hostler did not say that it was worth £20—I did not notice any man in the cart—Hatfield Peverel is six miles from Kelvedon.
Brown's Statement before the Magistrate. "I plead guilty to taking it I was in liquor, and did not know what I was doing."
MR. GEOGHEGAX called
THOMAS BISHOP . I live at 21, Batty Street, St. George's-in-the-East, and am a carman in Hostlers service; he is a manufacturer of mineral waters—on April 14th I was in Matilda Street, where Hostler lives, and Brown came in and said, "Come on, come for a ride"—Hostler said, "I will come"—I did not go outside—Brown asked me to go for a ride, I declined because he was drunk—Hostler went out, and the next time I saw him he was in the hands of the police—Hostler was drunk.
Cross-examined. This was 5.30 or 6 o'clock—Hostler's place of business is 3, Matilda Street, 50 yards from the Comet public-house—I have worked for him four years, he has not been in trouble during that time.
At the RECORDER'S suggestion Brown withdrew his plea of GUILTY and took the verdict of the JURY, who then found both prisoners
NOT GUILTY .
429. ELIAS DAVIS (18) , Assaulting William Jeffreys, with intent to resist the lawful apprehension of persons unknown. The GRAND JURY having ignored the Bill for highway robbery with violence, MR. SANDERS offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
431. HENRY THOMPSON (29), CHARLES SEXTON (22), and GEORGE NAY (22) [Pleaded guilty: see original file image] , To three indictments for housebreaking and larceny. Thompson having been convicted at Clerkenwell on 23rd October, 1888; Sexton at Clerkenwell on 7th August, 1888; and Nay at this Court on 24th June, 1889.— THOMPSON**†— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
SEXTON** and NAY**— Five Years' Penal Servitude each. And
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. ISAACS Defended.
LEWIS STEPHEN WHITE . I am clerk to the Watermen's Company; they grant certificates under their Act of Parliament to masters to employ apprentices on the river—the Act requires that the apprentice should have worked and rowed on the river for two years next proceding, and under sec. 2 masters are liable for employing any apprentice who is not duly qualified—the defendant is a freeman of the Company, and on 13th March he applied to the Court, in writing, for a certificate; this is it.(This was the application of Thomas Henderson, for a licence to employ his apprentice Thomas Robert Salter Malt by, who was bound to him on 14th February, 1888, to take charge of craft)—this (produced) is a form, signed by several persons: "We, the undersigned, beg to certify that the within-named apprentice is sober and industrious, and within two years has been employed in taking charge of craft"—we have both the master and the apprentice before the Court before granting that licence—Henderson appeared before the Court on 13th March, and with some difficulty we obtained the information from him that this apprentice had been
working for himself two months, and for the previous nine months with Mr. Robert Emmerson at Brentford—he first said seven months and then nine months—upon that, as he did not make out two years' employment, the Court refused the application, and instructed the Inspector to call on the parties who had signed the certificate, and summoned the six men to show cause why they should not be prosecuted; and, in consequence of what transpired, the defendant was summoned to the Mansion House; I was there—he claimed to be tried by a jury.
Cross-examined. This certificate is signed by the applicant and six freemen, and is headed, "Apprentice's certificate"—the application was for a certificate for licence, which signifies that the Court have examined the apprentice and licensed the master to employ him—when we have granted a licence and entered it in the book, if the applicant wants a certificate of the licence he would apply for it, and we should enter it in a book; we record it—I am quite clear that Henderson answered the questions; they were put by Mr. Gray and myself—the boy was there, but I do not know that Henderson referred to him to answer for himself—I have been secretary eight years, and never knew of a prosecution before—the Master stated something to the effect that it was somewhat unfortunate for us that this should have happened at the present moment—there is a Bill before Parliament to curtail our privileges.
Re-examined. In the last three or four years the company have had to summon men who made their own applications, and they were told that if this signing went on without their knowing the persons, further proceedings would be taken—they have been warned—the Master said he was reluctant to take proceedings' now because it might look as if we were playing up the Bill—Maltby was questioned, but we could not get anything out of him.
JAMES WILLIAM CHISWELL . I am a lighterman of Brentford, foreman to Robert Emmerson, and master of a tug belonging to him towing barges every day—I have been in his service ten years—I have seen Robert Salter Maltby—he has not been employed as lighterman and waterman by Mr. Emmerson for nine months to my knowledge; I must have seen him if he had—I never saw him working as lighterman or waterman for Mr. Emmerson or anybody else—I signed this document because Mr. Emmerson asked me to do so.
Cross-examined. I have only seen Maltby on board ships lying in a tier.
FRANK BURN . I am a lighterman, in the employ of Mr. Emmerson—I have been three years in his service and have never seen Maltby working for him—if he had worked for him for seven or nine months I must have seen him—I did not know him till I went to the Mansion. House—I signed this certificate because Mr. Emmerson asked me.
Cross-examined. It was lying on the table, and he said, "Just put your name down there," and I thought no more about it—I had no idea it was a certificate.
JAMES JOB WALLINGTON . I am a waterman and lighterman at Poplar, and have worked up and down the river daily for 22 years—I know Maltby—I never saw him at work as a lighterman, I have seen him on board several ships as a stevedore.
Cross-examined. I have seen him on the launch Roving Monarch going
about the docks, not on the river, and not navigating it—I do not know that he was at sea six years before he was apprenticed.JAMES HENRY SHOWELL. I have been fifteen years an inspector in the service of the Watermen's Company—I was present at the Court on March 13th when the defendant was called; he said that Maltby had been working with him some months, and also with Mr. Emmerson, of Brentford, for seven or nine months as lighterman—I am about the river every day, but never saw Maltby working as a waterman or lighterman.
Cross-examined. Henderson did not say, when asked, "The boy is here and can answer for himself"—the boy was there, and questions were put to him, but he was very reluctant in saying anything—I do not remember him answering any questions—when a boy is apprenticed the master has to "teach, or cause him to be instructed."
Evidence for the Defence.
THOMAS ROBERT SALTER MALTBY . I am twenty years old—I was apprenticed to Henderson on 13th February, 1888—I had been at sea about six years prior to that—when I entered into the indentures with Henderson, I navigated boats and barges on the Thames up to the time of making this application and since—I had charge of the Moving Monarch, and navigated her up and down the river—I did not take barges with her—I navigated her about Churchold Pier and other places.
Cross-examined. I was acting as stevedore at Churchold Pier and stowing the craft—I should not like to say how seldom I had navigated boats and barges previous to that—I appeared before the Court of the Watermen's Company—they asked where I had been employed, and I told them by Emmerson—I answered all the questions they put—I have been acting for Emmerson, shifting the barges, all last year; I mean 1888—he paid me weekly—I was not apprenticed till February, 1888—I know Chiswell, and I have seen Burn before—they do not know me, because they do not like to, it don't pay them.
By the COURT. It is upon oath that they never saw me at work, and I say it was not to their interest.
WILLIAM GARETTY . I live at 4, Rotherhithe Street, and am a lighterman, waterman—I know Mr. Maltby, sen., and Mr. Thos. Robert Salter Maltby since I left school—I have seen him engaged on the water many times, rowing a boat with me; that is part of a lighterman waterman's duty—he has been on a barge alongside a ship as we load—he used to come in a boat when quite a lad—I knew him when he was apprenticed to the prisoner; since then I have known him on and off pretty well every week; he was not engaged by me; he used to come with me to see how the ships worked; he was working for his father.
Cross-examined. He used to go out with me practising in the boat, for pleasure, and to learn his business as well—I was not called before the Magistrate; I was laid up ill.
Re-examined. An apprentice can learn his work with somebody else besides his master; that is an everyday occurrence. '
By the JURY. It is a rule to lend an apprentice from one to another, that is generally allowed by the Watermen's Company—you see it every day on the Thames now—an apprentice can do so without his master's sanction; plenty do it—I have been a freeman 36 years.
ROBERT CHARLES WARD . I am a licensed waterman and lighterman, of 10, Adland Street, Rotherhithe—I know Thos. Robert Salter Maltby—I have seen him on craft with a loaded barge—he is competent to take sole charge, in my opinion.
Cross-examined. He was employed with me several times barge loading with esparto grass 18 months ago; the last ship he worked with me was in June last—I have known him five years—if I had been asked to sign his certificate I should certainly have done it—I was not asked to give evidence before the Magistrate—I took him in my boat alongside a ship; I was working with stevedores—he navigated a barge with me two years ago, he hired the barge himself; that was before he was apprenticed.
THOMAS SHOULT . I have been a licensed lighterman waterman since 1862—I know young Maltby—I did not know he was apprenticed to Henderson till I saw him in a craft, eighteen months or two years ago, and on several occasions since I have seen him in craft, dropping them up—that was a proper thing to do to learn his business—in my opinion he is competent to take sole charge of craft; if anybody had asked me to sign his papers I would have done so.
Cross-examined. I have not been asked to go before the Magistrate—when I have seen him in craft it has not been only alongside a ship, but under way, navigating a barge, in sole charge of it—lots of things are done with apprentices which are not allowed.
JOHN READER . I live at 7, Bell Yard, Gravesend, and have been a lighterman and waterman all my life—I know T. R. S. Maltby, I have seen him properly navigating the little steam launch Roving Monarch up the river at Gravesend—I have seen him in sole charge of it.
GEORGE SAMUEL BAKER . I am a licensed waterman and lighterman, and live at 80A, Prince's Road, Bermondsey—I have been licensed seven years—I know Maltby—I never saw him navigating craft up the river; have seen him shifting barges alongside ships; that is part of a lighter-man's duty—he has rowed me ashore two or three times.
Cross-examined. I have seen him on a ship, not doing stevedore's work—he was not doing lighter-man's work when I saw him, he might have been doing it for all I saw—his father is a stevedore.
THOMAS WALTER . I live at 64, West Street, Gravesend, I have been a licensed waterman and lighterman for 17 years—I know Maltby well, and I knew he was apprenticed to Henderson—I have seen him navigating the Moving Monarch at and below Gravesend since he was apprenticed—I have not seen him doing waterman's work.
By the JURY. He navigated the Roving Monarch properly; that would teach him to row.
Cross-examined. The Roving Monarch is his father's steam launch.
BENJAMIN WILLIAM ELLIOT . I am a waterman and lighterman; I have been licensed for 17 years—I do not know who Maltby was apprenticed to, but on one or two occasions I have seen him going in and out Mill wall Dock, and on another occasion I saw him coming out of another dock navigating his father's steam launch—he said he was not licensed, but he was bound to the water—I have seen him dropping Westwood's barges, assisting with them in and out of the dock—that is part of a waterman's duty—he could not navigate, but only assist in
navigating till he got his licence—there are plenty of apprentices who spend their time in public-house bars, and the stevedores do their work.
Cross-examined. I don't approve of that—I am one of the persons who want to take the power out of the Watermen's Company—they prosecuted me on one occasion at the Mansion House when I resisted apprentices obtaining licences who had not served a portion of their time on the water—the officers turned me down the stairs of the Court, and I was prosecuted and fined 20s.—I never paid the fine—the Magistrate came to the conclusion there was a certain assault—I did resist the officers, but he made very strong remarks on the administration of the company—I have not renewed my licence since it expired in January, but I can work with impunity on the river without it—I complain they do not take steps—I wrote objecting to their giving licences to an apprentice who served all his time in his father's public-house bar, and alter that they gave the boy his licence as soon as the Master came from Australia.
Re-examined. It is twelve years since I was prosecuted by the Watermen's Company.
WILLIAM SHANNON . I have been a licensed waterman and lighterman between five and six years—I know Maltby—I did not know he was apprenticed in February, 1888—I have seen him in charge of the Roving Monarch) he navigated that properly—I saw him navigating it last Oxford and Cambridge Boat-race day, when there was a lot of boats, and he cleared under the stern of our inspector's boat and went through several others as carefully as I could do it—his master was with him, but Maltby was steering the launch and had sole charge of it for the time being—I saw him another time in Half Way Beach with a strong east wind blowing, and at other times carrying esparto grass.
Cross-examined. There were 14 or 15 persons on the launch on the Boat-race day—I had a bit of a grievance with Inspector Showell of the Watermen's Company, he struck me in the eye and I was in the hospital for three days—I took no proceedings against him—I went away to sea after that.
NOT GUILTY .
ALBERT ERSKINE . I am a captain in the Militia, and am a member of the Junior United Service Club—Colonel Champion is also a member, also Major Bury and Capt. O'Dell—on the evening of the 27th March I was in the company of Col. Champion and his son from a quarter to ten to a quarter to eleven, and with Capt. O'Dell part of that time—I did not see Major Bury there at all—I know him—on the following morning, the 28th, this letter was brought to me by a servant of the club at my house, No.1, Stafford Place, where I was then lodging, it was in this envelope, sealed with the club seal—I opened it and read the letter—I do not know the writing—I showed it to Capt. O'Dell the same morning—he told me it could not be meant for him, and I then sent it on to Col. Champion.
Letter read: "Avoid the bounder you have been with all the evening,
he is bad form, more or less a Fenian, probably more, toute la famille, the worst form.—A Friend—Thursday,")
Gross examined. I could not swear whether it was a quarter to ten or eleven when I went into the club that evening—I was with Col. Champion up to a quarter to two—his son was there all the time—Capt. O'Dell was in our company up to a about quarter to one—I think he came in shortly after I came in, he was most of the time in the smoking-room with me—I spent most of the time with Col. Champion in the smoking-room—there were other persons in the room—there was not a general conversation taking place in the room, we were all together, separate from everyone else, at one table, in the centre of the room—I was not talking to any other persons—I do not remember seeing the defendant at all that night—I did not know when I received this letter to whom it referred—I went straight off to Capt. O'Dell—I met him in the club and gave him the letter to see if it could apply to him—he read it—it did not apply to him—being in doubt to whom it applied, I sent it on to Col. Champion; that was about midday, between twelve and one—I did not think of the defendant as being the possible writer of the letter, the idea came into my head that it was someone else—I do not know that there are some persons in the club not having a very friendly feeling towards Col. Champion; there was not anyone whom I thought might have written it for that reason—I do not remember using the phrase that the letter contained nonsense, I am almost sure I did not call it a nonsensical letter—I will not swear I did not, I might have said so.
He-examined. At the time I received this letter I had never seen the defendant's writing—my suspicion as to somebody else was not aroused because of the writing, but by the expression "bounder"—I was at the Police-court, the defendant gave evidence there.
PERCIVAL ROBERT CHAMPION . I am a retired lieut colonel in the army, and am a member of the Junior United Service Club—I resided permanently at Combermere, co. Cork, until I left about six months ago—that is my residence—I reside there with my wife and family—Major Bury occupies a place called Little Island, about three miles distant—I know him as a member of the club in London—I was not on visiting terms with him in Ireland—I knew him, and have known him for many years—on the 27th March last I was with Captain Erskine and my son in the club from about twenty minutes to ten till about a quarter to one, in the smoking-room, and after that in the supper-room from about half-past eleven till about a quarter to one, when we left—I saw Major Bury in the smoking-room, sitting on a sofa on the left-hand side between two pillows—to the best of my recollection he must have been there over an hour while I, Captain Erskine, and my son were sitting together—on the following day, the 28th, I received this letter at the club, sent to me by Captain Erskine, enclosed in an envelope, with a short letter—I read the letter—I understood it to refer to me—at that time I did not know Major Burr's writing, and had never seen it that I remember—my suspicions were directed to him, the very first thing that struck my attention was the French expression toute la famille, Because I knew Major Bury to be talked of as a man constantly using little brief French expressions, and also translating them—I had had occasion before this to write to Major Bury about a Captain Broadley, a mutual friend or acquaintance whom I had not seen in the club for some
years; I was anxious to know if he had got well, so I thought this a good opportunity, and I wrote to Major Bury this letter, dated 29th March; received this reply from him—I compared it with the writing of the alleged libel, and the envelope, and I saw at once that the writing was the same—I then consulted my solicitors, I think the next day, and then I reported the matter to the club—I have myself heard the defendant use French phrases and translating them—in the winter of 1866 and 1867 I was on active service on the occasion of the Fenian rebellion—that was my only connection with Fenianism—I take the word "bounder" to mean a self-asserting, swaggering vulgarian; that is what I think it is generally understood to be, in clubs and in society in general.
Cross-examined. I am not a bounder that I know of; I leave it to public opinion—I say I thought the letter applied to me, but not on account of that word; that did not apply to me at all, any more than the word Fenian—I never was a Fenian or a Fenian sympathiser—I never took part in any rebel movement—I thought the letter applied to me, because was the only man of the party in the smoking-room to whom it could apply, and more than that I can swear that Major Bury was the only man in the smoking-room (for I took notice of everybody who was there) who could have known anything about my family—it was intended to apply to me, to destroy my reputation among my friends and in society—I have been a member of this club since 1877—I have been away from Combermere six or seven months; I am now living in town—I believe the defendant has been a member of the club about thirty years; I don't know much about him—I have of course heard other persons use French expressions; he is the only person who has translated French phrases in my presence—he has never visited me at Combermere—I have seen very little of him—we were not on visiting terms—we have never been thrown across each other to have a quarrel—when I saw the expression, "tout la famille," I thought it was Major Bury who had written the letter—I did not write to him about it; as a gentleman I should not be likely to make allusion to any man without being quite sure—I considered it was most insulting—"I heard when I made complaint to the club, that he denied writing it, and he also made a statement in Court—I took out a summons on the 24th April, which was heard on the 25th—when I compared the two letters I saw sufficient indications to induce me to go to my solicitors on the subject; there is an attempt to disguise the words, not the letters, that was the mistake.
Re-examined. I had been to my solicitors and had written to the committee long before I heard of the defendant's complaint to the committee, in fact I only heard of it the other day, after the Grand Jury met this Sessions—I heard it at the Police-court.
THOMAS JOHN O'DELL . I am a captain in the Army Service Corps, and am a member of the Junior United Service Club—I was there on the evening of 27th March; I came in about half-past eleven; Captain Champion and his son were sitting with Captain Erskine, and I joined them up to about a quarter to one—on the following day Captain Erskine brought mo this letter—I declined to appropriate it to myself, and handed it back to him—I have met the defendant casually in the club, just to bow to—I have never spoken to him—I am not married—the defendant
is not acquainted with my family that I am aware of—no member of my family was present at the club that evening.
HERBERT MOREY Low. I am a member of the firm of Smith, Fawdon and Company, solicitors, and solicitors to Col, Champion in this matter—he placed this letter in my hands on 1st April, and on the 2nd I wrote to the defendant a letter, of which this is a copy—the original was not produced at the Police-court—notice to produce was given—I heard the defendant say at the Police-court that he had destroyed it. (The copy was read; it stated that instructions had hem given to take criminal proceedings)—I have received no answer—before writing I had compared the alleged libel with the letter from the defendant to Colonel Champion, and have done so since frequently.
Cross-examined. I heard the defendant say, "I read one part of the solicitors' letter before tearing it up in a rage"—I forget at what point he said he tore it up—I believe he said he did not even remember the name of the solicitors at the bottom of the letter.
Re-examined. The words "criminal proceedings" occur at the very end of the letter, just above the signature.
THOMAS HENRY GURRING . I live at 59, Holborn Viaduct—I have made handwriting a study—I have compared the letter and envelope addressed to Captain Erskine with the one to Colonel Champion, and I believe them to nave been decidedly written by the same person—the initials "J. U. S." on both envelopes appear to me identical—the "J" is of a very peculiar formation; the "C" in "Club "is something of the shape of an imperfect "O"—the "J" is very much the shape of the figure 7, and the "y" is similar, and the" f" is strikingly similar—I could point out other similarities.
Cross-examined. The letter to Captain Erskine is in a slightly disguised hand in my opinion—I have only received these two documents for consideration—I have studied handwriting for about six or seven years—this is not my first appearance as a witness, by a great many—I have been a clerk in the Board of Trade—I have not studied under Chabot, Nether-clift, or Inglis, and have not been discredited yet.
Re-examined. I gave evidence at the police-court, no one on the defendant's behalf submitted any specimens of his handwriting to me.
MR. WILLIS submitted that there was no case to go to the JURY, the letter being a private one to Captain Erskine; that there was no publication as regarded the prosecutor. Captain Erskine having no authority to part with it, and had he not done so the matter would have dropped; and although it might give rise to a civil action, it was not the subject of a criminal prosecution. After hearing MR. AVORY, the RECORDER would not stop the case, but, if necessary, would reserve the point.
MR. WILLIS called
PHINEAS BURY (the Defendant). I have known Colonel Champion since I was a boy—we have never had any difference of opinion or quarrel—I knew Mrs. Champion and her father, we were very old friends—I have lived at Little Island all my life, and Mrs. Champion and her father lived at Combermere very many years—I am a retired captain in the army, with the rank of honorary major—I have been a member of this club over thirty-one years—I have been a member of its committee—on the night of 27th March I came to the club a little after 12; I went into
the smoking-room for about ten minutes—I saw there Colonel Champion, Captain Erskine, and another gentleman, who I did not recognise—I was not for some considerable time in the smoking-room, I had been to the theatre—I went from the smoking-room into the card-room, stopped there a quarter of an hour perhaps, and then went away—I did not write this letter to Captain Erskine—"J. U. S," is the ordinary way of writing "Junior United Service"—I remember getting one Saturday a letter from Colonel Champion referring to Captain Broadley, I was just going out, I answered it at once—I first knew of an anonymous letter having been written two or three days after the evening of the 27th, from Captain Reed—I did not then know that my name was mixed up as being its writer—the next thing I heard was that Colonel Champion had said in the club that I had written it—I got a letter from a solicitor on Good Friday—I read part of it, and I noticed the words "dastardly" and "criminal proceedings "as soon as I looked at it—I felt very indignant and tore it up in a rage—I did not pee the names of the solicitors—I next heard that Colonel Champion had complained of me to the committee—I went and saw the secretary, and then sent a letter to the committee—I communicated further with the club—afterwards, on 11th April, I received a summons to attend at the police-court—I have never used French expressions in Colonel Champion's presence—I have conversed with him very slightly for the last few years, never in French—I have never interlarded my English with French when speaking to him.
Cross-examined. I was not educated in France; I have often been in France, not for long together—I have not been there practically since the days of the Empire—I speak French—I do not say I never use French expressions in the course of conversation; I did not in conversation with Colonel Champion—I do not habitually use French expressions—I rarely do unless I am talking to a foreigner—people I talk to every day never accuse me of talking French—I will not say I never use French expressions at the club—I know Colonel Champion's family very well, his father-in-law's family; his family I have not seen since they were little children—I have not visited them in Ireland—I do not know of his taking part in any political move or agitation—he exerted himself on behalf of the "Long Leaseholders' Association"—I sat down between the doors in the smoking-room on that night for a short time—I saw Captain Erskine was in Colonel Champion's company; they left the room in company, and I saw them in the supper-room together; they had not sat down—I presume they were in company when I left the club—I know Captain O'Dell just to speak to; we have never been introduced—I know nothing of his family—I had not the slightest reason for thinking Captain O'Dell was a bounder or a Fenian—I was at the club very frequently—I took a great interest in it—I do not know every member; there are a great many young members; the older members I know—I cannot say I notice what people associate together—when I wrote to Colonel Champion I did not know that he was making any accusation against me—I had not heard at that time that there was any complaint—I wrote this letter to Colonel Champion in my ordinary writing—I do not precisely know the meaning of the word bounder; I should think it meant a boisterous, blustering sort of gentleman, or probably the reverse of a gentleman—I think a gentleman is hardly a bounder—it is not complimentary to (all a man a bound»r—I don't think it is defamatory,.
in a legal sense, to do so, but if not in a legal sense I think it is an expression calculated to bring a man into ridicule—I think that to say of an officer in the army that he is a Fenian, more or less, probably more, if calculated to bring him into odium and contempt—if he had that reputation in a club other members would avoid him—you asked me my definition of bounder at the police-court, and I said then it meant a man of bad form—I don't remember you calling my attention to the fact that the libel gave the same definition—I do not think the two expressions are used as correlative, but as two distinct accusations—to say of a man that he is bad form is hardly calculated to bring him into contempt—bounder is the worse expression, I think—it is an offensive expression—I heard it rumoured in the club before 2nd April that I was accused of being the author of the letter—I think I first heard that Colonel Champion was accusing me of being the author, on the Monday after the Thursday; I could not swear to it; it was about that date—when I received the solicitors' letter on Good Friday I had heard it rumoured in the club that Colonel Champion had accused me—I had not the least idea who the letter came from on Good Friday—I presume I gathered from the letter that I was being threatened with criminal proceedings——I swear I did not look and see who was so threatening me; I never regretted anything more than tearing up the letter, but I did do so—I had not the remotest idea what the criminal proceedings were for—I had an idea the letter referred to this libel, because I heard rumours going about—I knew the letter threatened me with proceedings in respect of this alleged libel—I have heard the draft of the letter read—the words, "criminal proceedings," are the last words in it—I don't know if there was a printed heading to the notepaper; I never saw the address; I tried to find out afterwards what it was, but I could not—I did not write to Colonel Champion, because I considered he ought to come to me and ask me if I wrote the letter—I did not say to Colonel Champion, "I am not the author of that letter; why do you threaten me?"—it never occurred to me to do that.(The Witness, at MR. AVORY'S request, here addressed an envelope,"Hon. A. Erskine, J. U. S. Club, S. W. ")—I never make an "r" such as is used in copper-plate writing that I am aware of—this is my letter to the committee, the "r" in "removed" does not look as if I altered it from one shape to another—I think there was no more ink in the pen and I wrote it again—I think the "r" in "removed" and that in the Erskine on the libellous envelope are slightly alike—there is a slight resemblance between the "J. U. S. Club" on the envelope addressed to Colonel Champion and that on the libellous envelope—I should be very sorry to swear that anybody in the club has been imitating my writing, but I think it must be the case—I have no suspicion of any individual who would be likely to do such a thing.
Re-examined. I got the solicitors' letter on Good Friday—I had not heard before that that Colonel Champion was stating that I wrote the letter—I had heard gossipy rumours—I was not aware, from rumours or otherwise, when I got the letter on Good Friday, that Colonel Champion was charging me with being the author of the letter—I had not the slightest reason to call Colonel Champion a bounder, or more or less a Fenian, I never did so—I have courted inquiry into this matter before the club—I went into the box at the police-court. By MR. AVORY. I am unconscious of having said that before I
received this letter; I had heard rumours in the club that Colonel Champion was accusing me of being the author. By the JURY. I am accustomed to write with a quill pen.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
SARAH THORN . I am the prisoner's wife—we were married about twelve years ago, and lived together till April, 1889—then, owing to differences between us, we consented to live apart—since then the prisoner has threatened me—on 24th February he followed me in Wych-hampton Street, I took refuge in Mrs. Airds' house—he said, "I mean doing for you; I have left at home to-night what I have been carrying about loaded," he referred to a pistol—about midnight on Saturday, 15th March, I went into Mrs. Crotti's shop at Hoxton—I heard the prisoner's voice behind me making use of a most filthy expression; he told me to take that, and I felt something sharp go under my right shoulder from behind, and I fell down—I had not seen him at all that day, and I did not see him when I fell, I heard his voice—I remember being put into a cab, and I remember no more till I was at the Metropolitan Hospital—I was there five weeks and two days as an inpatient.
Cross-examined. You did not follow me from a brothel, and ask me to give you the children's things—I did not take the earrings out of our girl's ears.
ISABELLA CROTTI . I keep a shop at 33, Cropley Street, Hoxton—at midnight on Saturday, 15th March, Mrs. Thorn came into my shop just as I was about closing—at nine that night the prisoner had come in, and wanted to see his wife—I told him not to come and upset me—she had come to me for a week on trial to see if she could learn the business—the prisoner was all the evening at a fish shop opposite, sitting on a barrow now and again—when Mrs. Thorn came back about midnight, the prisoner rushed in and struck her on the back twice—I could not see when he hit her if he had anything in his hand, but after he hit her, and she ran through, he closed a knife and put it into his pocket, and stood in the road and said, "Now you can take me"—I took her to the hospital—he was arrested while we were gone to the hospital—I saw the knife.
EMMA OSWALD . I live at 68, Cavendish Street, Hoxton—on this Saturday night I was standing at the corner of Cropley Street, opposite 33, and I saw the prisoner watching about half-past twelve—I saw his wife in Mrs. Crotti's passage, and I saw the prisoner run past me and hit her in the back—I ran and asked if she was hurt much, and she put her hand to her back and pulled it away and said, "I am stabbed"—I ran for Dr. Davis, but he would not come because I had no policeman with me.
Cross-examined. I did not see a knife—you went towards Wenlock Street and came back—I don't know if you were drunk or sober.
ELIZABETH AIRDS . I am the wife of William Airds, of 21, Wych-hampton Street, Hoxton—on 24th February Mrs. Thorn came into my place and spoke to me—I let her out of my front door—five or ten minutes afterwards I heard a scrimmage at my back gate, and I saw
the prisoner trying to get out—I got hold of him by the collar; he resisted, I hit him under the side, and when I looked he had a knife, and I said, "If you don't put that away I will charge you"—he said, "I left the thing at home loaded; I ought to have brought it with me; I have carried it about all the week loaded; I ought to have brought it with me"—he went out of the front gate.
FRANCIS HARRIS (Police Inspector G), I saw the prisoner at Hoxton Police-station when he was brought in at ten minutes to one a.m., on the 16th—I asked the constable what he was brought for, and the constable said for stabbing his wife in the back; I said, "Where is the prosecutrix?"—the prisoner said, "I am very sorry I did not kill her"—the constable said he stabbed her with a knife; the prisoner said, "No, I stabbed her with a flat pointed skewer"—when the charge was read he said, "It served her right"—he was very excited—I saw him searched, nothing was found.
EDWARD BRYANT . I am house-surgeon at the Metropolitan Hospital-early on the morning of 16th March I saw the prosecutrix when she was brought in, suffering from a stab in the back about one and a half inches long and three inches deep, internally to the shoulder blade—I should say it was done with a knife—she was for five weeks an in-patient of the hospital—she is quite well now—it was not in itself a dangerous wound.
Cross-examined. It is not true that she would have been well in a fortnight if we had not kept her there for five weeks to get a ease up for you. The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not have a knife; it was done with a skewer; it is a scratch, not a wound,"
The prisoner, in his defence, made many allegations against his wife, and he said he only stalled her once, not twice.
MRS. AIRDS (Re-examined). I have known the prosecutrix ten years by sight, not so long to speak to—I have always known her to be a steady, hard-working, scrupulous woman in every respect—there is no truth in her husband's accusations.
It was stated that the prisoner had-been summoned on previous occasions for threatening his wife— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour,
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May list, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
ELIZA GRIMES . I am a widow, and live at the Victoria Dwellings, Clerkenwell Road—on 26th April I closed the house, and went to bed at twelve o'clock—one window had no fastening—I was awoke by a child at two o'clock, and both windows were safe then—my daughter awoke me at 4.35, and I found both windows open, and missed a miniature chest of drawers, and several articles from the window ledge, and a cloak and ten books—on May 9th my son, who is thirteen years old, called me, and I saw the prisoner in the yard; I said, "What is your business?"—he said, "I am a police constable from Scotland Yard, and have come in reference to a cloak and some books which have been stolen"—I said, "If you are a constable, perhaps you will show me your authority?"—he said, "I have none"—he was in plain clothes, and had an umbrella—I said, "If you have no authority I will call a constable, and if you can satisfy the constable that will do for me"—I called Mr. Sutton, a neighbour, who saw that he did not get away, and I called a constable; the prisoner repeated to him that he was a detective from Scotland Yard—I went to the station and charged him—these books (produced) are mine—the catch of the window which was fastened was pushed back, and there was a mark as of a screwdriver having been pushed in—I value the books at 8s., and the cloak at 3s.
DAVID MASON (Policeman G R 25). About 7.30 p.m. on May 9th Mrs. Grimes called me to the Victoria Buildings, and I met the prisoner on the first balcony outside which leads into the dwellings—I said, "What are you doing here?"—he said, "lama constable from Scotland Yard"—I said, "Come outside, I will see about it; it is getting dark here"—when I got him outside he said, "You know me"—I said, "No, I don't; show me your authority"—he said, "I have none"—I said, "You will have to go to the station with me"—he went there and was charged—he gave his name first as White; he was asked his address, and said, "I won't give one"—he gave his address ten minutes afterwards, and the name of Vernon Vivian—in answer to the charge, he said he went there to make some inquiries respecting some books—fourteen keys and seventeen pawn-tickets, a knife, a book, and an umbrella were found on him (The wards of these keys had-been filed out)—Mrs. Grimes identified the book, the other property was found at his place.
JOHN ROBINSON (Police Sergeant G). When the prisoner was charged, he said, "I shall not give you any trouble, I am living in the front parlour at 47, King's Cross Road"—I went there with Mason, searched the room, and found this album and ten books, which have been identified, also this mantle, which was in a chest of drawers—it is both a sleeping and living room—I showed them to the prisoner the next morning—he said, "I bought them of a boy who lives in Leather Lane, his name is Johnson, I never saw him before,"
Prisoner's Defence: "I bought the things; I did not know they were stolen. A few days afterwards I heard from another boy in
Leather Lane that they had been stolen, and I wanted to try and find out the truth; I was the worse for drink, and made a fool of myself. Had I had any idea they were stolen I would not have bought them; I took no care to put them away, because I believed they were not stolen; I kept them in my lodging openly; I picked up the keys,"
D. MASON (Re-examined). He was perfectly sober—I did not say to him, "You are drunk,"
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court on 11th September, 1882.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
440. CHARLES COOPER (25) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling £20 19s. 9d., £26 18s. 6d., and a cheque for £27 5s. 10d., of Peter Campbell and Sons, his masters. He received a good character— Six Months' Hard Labour. He was again indicted for embezzling £3 7s. 8d., the money of his said masters, upon which no evidence was offered— NOT GUILTY .
441. WILLIAM HARLEY CLEMENTS (65) and MINNIE HANDLEY (34) , Stealing on 1st October, 1888, a dog, the property of Isaac Leadam, and on 24th October, 1889, a dog, the property of Annie Taylor; also, two other dogs, the property of George Procter and Douglas Finney.
ISAAC LEADAM . I am a barrister, of 117, St. George's Square, S. W.—I had a dog, worth about £15—I lost him about two and a half years ago, about November 1, and next saw him about three weeks ago, at the Police-station, Portland Town—(the dog had been stolen before, and the man was convicted)—I hesitated a little, because the dog did not answer to his name—I then looked to see if he had a mark where he had been scalded, and took him out into the sunlight, and saw what appears to be the place (pointing it out to the JURY), the hair does not grow properly there—I called him by another name, Captain, and he did not answer to it; he would only answer to the name of Zoo—this is a photograph of him (produced).
Clements. You know he is not your dog, and if his muzzle was off he would not let you handle him. If he was let loose he would go to Mrs. Holland's, where I had him from. Witness. I find on him the mark I looked for. Hundley. His coat has been clipped since.
WILLIAM TAYLOR (Policeman S 210). On April 1st I found this dog at a stable at 201, Bentinck Mews, and took him to the station—he had no collar—the prisoner keeps dogs there; there were about fifteen there he was in custody then.
him a few days before the dog was lost; he asked me to sell him—I said no, and he left—he saw the dog; I brought him down—the puppy teeth were not shed then, but they have gone now—I saw him next at Portland Town Police-station, and identified him—I would not take £10 for him.
Cross-examined by Clements. You once lived in my neighbourhood—you called and saw me, and I brought the dog down to show you—I never went to your place about an Irish terrier which I had lost—I did lose one, but I did not go to the Rose and Shamrock to inquire about it; I sent a man, because my leg was broken and I could not go—a man brought a dog round which was not mine.
GEORGE FERRIS (Police-Sergeant S). On Friday, April 25th, about 2.30, I saw a pony and trap draw up at No.1, Bentinck Mews, and Clements brought two boxes out, and assisted a man named Dee in putting them on the pony trap—Handley then came out of the stable, got on the trap, and drove off, but Barrett stopped the trap—I went to 1, Bentinck Mews, and said to Clements, "l am a police officer, I want to know how many dogs you have here"—he said, "One," and pointed to a white bull-terrier, which was close by—I said, "You have more than this"—Inspector Holland came, and we searched the house, and found thirteen dogs, all in a starving condition, and among them a Yorkshire terrier, claimed by Mr. Proctor—I took Clements to the station, and he was charged with being concerned with the female prisoner in having in their possession dogs supposed to be stolen—she said, "I know nothing about it"—she gave her address, 3, St. James Mews, Kensal Road; I could not find the house that evening, but I found it on the Monday, and found twenty-seven dogs there of all kinds, downstairs and upstairs, all in a starving condition—I saw some dog collars at Bentinck Mews, Taylor took possession of them—I found a Japanese dog in the loft with the others.
Cross-examined by Clements. You said there was only one dog in the place—you did not say; "There is a bull-terrier there, the others are upstairs"—you did not go up with us—there was not half a sack of bread there—I found a lot of haddocks' heads in a copper, which had to be stewed down—I did not say I wanted to get a conviction—I was not drunk, I was all day watching you—I did not rub my hands and say, "I have got you now, my boy"—I did not rifle your pockets; you gave me a receipted bill and a pawnticket—I did not keep you at the station several hours before charging you; you were charged within an hour—you were also charged with stealing a pony and cart, and you showed me a telegram with two sovereigns in it—there was not £3 3s. in it; you tore it up and threw it into the fire—I have got no receipt; I have never seen it.
Re-examined. I did not say that I would get him convicted if I could, or anything like it—he was taken on Saturday, locked up on Sunday, and taken before the Magistrate on Monday—there was a boy in charge of the dogs, but there was no water and no food; their bones were protruding through their skins.
Cross-examined by Handley. You did not see me put my hand in Clements' pocket at Marlborough Street Police court.
for it—he said he bought the two terriers of Mr. Lee, a ret of Harlesdon, and gave 15s. for one and 30s. for another—he said at the station, "I cannot understand what it is all about, it is all a mistake."
FREDERICK LEE . I am an oyster salesman, of 114, Newington Butts—my father died on February 12th—he kept three Yorkshire terriers, one of which died, one was lost, and the third my mother sold direct to Mr. Simmerton. (Two Yorkshire terriers produced)—I cannot say whether either of those is the dog which was lost, but the one on this side very closely resembles the one my mother sold to Mr. Simmerton three weeks-after my father's death—I said at the Police-court, "I do not think it is the dog"; that was because the dog was somewhat heavier than the one produced.
Cross-examined by Clements. I know John Simmerton—I never saw you—I did not know all the dogs my father possessed, because he took in dogs for treatment—I saw him on an average once a week—he was not a dealer in dogs—I do not know of your buying any dogs of him—he gave you a puppy which you claimed as yours—my mother refused to have any dealings with you; she refused to see you, and Simmerton came, and she sold one dog to him for 15s. and another for 14s.—I have heard my father speak of you several times, but I can't say that he spoke favourably of you—you did not purchase the poodles that were on the premises at the time of my father's death.
Re-examined. This is not a poodle; it is a Yorkshire terrier—Simmerton is a dog dealer; I do not know whether he is a friend of the prisoners; he called about the dogs, and bought the Yorkshire terrier of my mother—when I returned to town I heard that Simmerton and Clements had quarrelled, and my mother said she would not have anything to do with him.
ANNIE TAYLOR . I am married, and I live at 72, Lower Marsh, Lambeth—I was formerly in the service of Mrs. Caldecott, of New Burlington Street—she is dead—she left me a valuable Japanese dog which she had been offered 50 guineas for—on February 1, at 12 o'clock, I saw him safe in the area of 12, New Burlington Street, and did not see him again till I saw him at the station—his name is Chang, and he knew me at once when I addressed him by that name—on May 9 I picked this collar out at the station from several others as the one the dog was wearing.
Cross-examined by Clements. The pug was lost some weeks before my mistress died, but it was in my possession, because I lived there—she gave it to me long before she died—she did not advertise it for sale to my knowledge—I had the key, and used to undo the collar—it will not fit the dog now.
Re-examined. The dog is very much thinner now—I washed him every day—when I called him Chang he came up to me.
ALEXANDER BARBER . I live at 9, Queen Street, Westminster, and was formerly in the employ of Madame Caldecott at 12, New Burlington Street—I have not the slightest doubt that this is her dog Chang, but it is not half as stout as it was—I am nearly positive this is the chain collar he wore—I saw him every day, and cleaned and fed him.
Cross-examined by Clements. I believe I can swear to the collar—there was another black pug in the house, both were males—the dog was not advertised for sale in my time.
JOHN HOLLAND (Re-examined). On 2nd April I questioned Clements as to how he became possessed of the pug, he said, "I don't know where I got that"—he said nothing about paying a sovereign for it in Shoreditch—on 9th April the dog was with others at the station; Mrs. Taylor said, "There is my little Chang," and the dog jumped up, and seemed very pleased to see her—she said, "I can swear to him from a thousand"—she was shown a number of collars, she looked at them carefully, picked out this one, and said, "There is my chain,"
Cross-examined by Clements. Some of the other collars were metal—you did not tell me that you bought the pug of a bootmaker who lived in Burton Terrace, Kingsland Road.
Cross-examined by Handley. Mrs. Taylor said that she had a key to fit the collar, but a search was made in the place, and it has not been found—some things were taken away after the lady died—the police have not a key belonging to you which fits the collar.
WILLIAM WATSON . I am groom to Mr. Douglas Finney, of 76, Welbeck Street—on 11th February, in the evening, I took his two dogs out to exercise in the neighbourhood of Oxford Street—this bull-dog is one of them—it had a collar and muzzle on—I identify it because it has had its tail broken—also by its white throat and its face—I missed it in Berners Street, and saw it again on 28th April in Portland Town Police-station—I called it "Tiger" and he recognised his name—he is worth £20—he had on a white metal collar.
HENRY DURHAM . I am a greengrocer, of 15, John Street, Portland Town—on 24th April Clements spoke to me in Bentinck Terrace, Begent's Park, and asked if I could take two small boxes to Waterloo Station—I said, "Yes"—he said, "What do you charge?"—I said, "Two shillings"—he said, "I am only a poor man, I will give you eighteenpence"—I agreed to take them; he did not tell me what they contained—I put two bags over them, and he drove to Waterloo Station—we then went to the Blackfriars Station of the L. C. and D. line, where he got out and made some inquiries, and I stayed in the cart—when he returned we went to Tooley Street, where he made further inquiries at a wharf—we then went to Irongate Wharf, and from there to St. Katherine's Wharf, where he got out and made inquiries, and said, "It is no go, I shall have to go home," and we returned to Bentinck Mews—he asked me to take him again next day; I said I would—he said, "Don't disappoint me;" next day, about 2.30, I went to the mews with the pony and cart, and the two prisoners put in the boxes—Clements said, "The woman will go with you to-day"—she drove, and after going fifty yards she was stopped by the police—I was taken to the station with her, but was not charged.
JAMES BARRETT (Detective S). On 25th April, about. 2.30 p.m., I saw Handley driving a pony and costermonger's barrow in Albert Road—I stopped her, told her I was a police officer, and asked what she had in the cart—she said, "Dogs; I am driving them to the railway station. They are going to Havre. I am driving them for a gentleman who lives in the mews; I am driving because the man in the cart with me has only
got one arm and cannot drive"—I found two boxes in the cart covered with sacks; one contained the brindled bull-dog and the other two foxterriers—I took her to the station.
Clements stated that he was a man of unblemished character, in reply to which MR. TAYLOR called the following witnesses:—
JOSEPH STAMMERS (Police Sergeant T). I have known Clements about twenty years—his general reputation is bad—he has always been looked upon as a receiver of dogs—he was pointed out to me by Cuthine, who is dead, as having had fourteen days for the unlawful possession of dogs—I know him as the associate of a burglar, Burdett, who has been convicted of dog-stealing.
Cross-examined by Clements. I never knew you to steal a dog—you were convicted of cruelty to a dog, and had to pay a fine—when your dogs were seized a gentleman got his dog back—sixty-five dogs were seized at your place—I knew you in Fulham Palace Road—I knew nothing wrong of you there.
EDWARD SIDNEY . I am a solicitor—I have known Clements two or three years in the neighbourhood of Marylebone—I first knew him when he brought an action against a man named Whitton for a dog which he said Whitton had taken from him and kept, and we were able to prove that he never had the dog—I defended another case where the man Samuels never had the dog—on 17th June, last year, Host an Irish terrier, and in the evening a coachman took me to Homer Street, and saw Clements (we always looked to Clements if a dog was lost); I said, "Have you got my dog?"—he said, "I don't know you"—I told him what the dog was, and he struck me and I struck him—I was charged before Mr. Cook, at Marylebone, who dismissed the case—this (a collar found at the mews) is the collar which was on my dog; only two persons in England have got them; I picked it out last night at the station; I can call the man who made it.
Cross-examined by Clements. I have seen you outside the Burlington watching dogs—the first time I met you was outside Lord's—I can call two or three gentlemen who know you as well as I do—the collar is made in this way for sporting purposes; I positively swear it is mine—I am the only man who had one made like it; it is a small bull-dog collar.
Clements, in his defence, stated that he received the poodle from Mrs. Holland, and went to St. Pancras Station to meet it; and put in a correspondence with the police of Manchester about it; that he bought the bull-dog for £3 of a coachman, who said he had him from his brother, and that the receipt was in the hands of the police, he called
JOHN RADFORD . I work for Clements, attending to the dogs—this black poodle is one of the dogs I attended to—I know him by the name of Czar—I saw no mark on his back—I know that the dog came up by railway; I was present at the station.
Cross-examined. I have known the two prisoners working together for nine months.
Cross-examined by Handley. We were left alone in the place together; Clements bought and sold dogs, and had a good many.
Handley, in her defence of stated that she had nothing to do with the dogs except when she fed the puppies that Clements asked her to take the dogs to Waterloo Station, and she was taken to the station and had been three weeks in prison suffering for nothing.
CLEMENTS— GUILTY .
HANDLEY— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. P. TAYLOR Prosecuted.
JOSEPH-BATES. I am a dairyman of Hendon—on March 28th I had a pony and cart, with my name and address on it, and two sets of harness in my stable, within 100 yards of the road—they were safe at 4 p.m. and gone at 5 next morning; the stable bolt had been pressed back with some sharp instrument—I have never seen the trap or harness since—I saw the pony on 29th April at Portland Town Green-yard in very bad condition—he was in good condition when I lost him—I value him at £14 and the harness at £4.
LEVI VICKERS . I am a milk carrier in Mr. Bates' employ—I saw his pony, cart, and harness safe in the stable at eight o'clock on 28th March, and locked the stable—on April 30 I saw the pony at the green-yard, and am certain it is Mr. Bates' pony.
EDWARD KITCHEN (Detective Officer). Mr. Bates gave me a description of this pony and cart—I went to Hendon, and found a large padlock had been forced off the gate of a field, and the stable door had been forced.
JOHN HOLLAND (Police Inspector). On 25th April, about 2.30, I went to Bentinck Mews, St. John's Wood, and saw the prisoner and pony in a stable—I asked him to account for the possession of the pony—he said, "I have had it a long time; I bought it on the stones five or six months ago"—I said, "What do you mean by the stones?"—he said, "You know very well"—I did know, but I wanted him to tell me—I said, "You will have to give me a better explanation than that; I shall take you to the station and charge you"—at the station I asked him to give me any names, and I would send to any part of London for him to clear the matter up—he offered no further explanation—I received from him a ticket for some harness, but it was not the harness which was lost.
Cross-examined. You did not say you bought the pony by auction, or that you had had it eight or nine months; you said five or six months.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY CLARK . This bay cob is the prisoner's; he bought it at the end of September, on a Friday, and gave £8 guineas for it, and gave me 6d. to fetch it out; and he met me with a now halter, and tied the pony at the
back of my cart—I said, "Shall I put this cob into the cart and try him?"—he said, "Just as you like"—that was the same pony as I saw on Monday in the possession of the police; I could pick him out of a hundred—I have a little boy five years old who can prove it, and my wife used it.
Cross-examined. I first saw it in September; I was there when he bought it.
Cross-examined. I have not seen two other ponies in my uncle's possession; I have not been there—I have made no statement to Kitchen—I did not refuse to give evidence at the Police-court.
STEPHEN WOOD . The prisoner came to me in October, and rented a stable to put a pony in; it was a brown, thick-set pony—I asked the policeman to allow me to look at it, but he would not—my son cleaned it and looked after it.
By the COURT. It was not a policeman who ordered me out, it was somebody in private clothes who was looking after the pony. Evidence in Reply.
EDWARD KITCHEN (Re-examined). I was present when the prisoner's nephew examined the pony—I took him out by order of Mr. Cook, the Magistrate at Marylebone Police-court—he looked at it for some time and said, "This is not the pony, and I shall not say anything about it,"
The Prisoner re-called
Cross-examined. I am not a particular friend of the prisoner's—he asked me to take in letters for him in the name of Austin, and he received them; my little boy has been riding the pony, and told me he had been riding the dog man's pony.
Cross-examined. I first knew the prisoner's name was Clements when I went to the post office to get a letter for him, and he gave the name of Clements; that was before Christmas, when I used to ride his pony—I told my father I had been to get a letter for Mr. Clements.
STEPHEN WOOD (Re-examined), I noticed that the pony had a little white on the centre of his forehead—I have not seen this pony. (The Witness was sent to examine the pony)—I identify it as the same pony which was in my stable in October and the beginning of November.
EDWARD KITCHEN (Re-examined). The pony has a white star on his forehead—I took him to Hendon last Thursday week, and let him go down Victoria Road by himself, and he went into Mr. Bates' front garden and neighed, and Mrs. Bates came out and gave him a handful of sugar, he took it and licked her face—he was then taken round, and stopped at each customer's shop.
the pony just now—it is a male pony—they tried to puzzle me when I was down there—I am a respectable man, and never was before a judge in my life—I did not know the prisoner's name was Clements till he came to the Court—I booked the time when the pony went in and out—he was in my yard six weeks, and I saw him every day—he left about the middle of November—I had no other pony in my yard—I am a carman and contractor—I had no doubt of anything about the pony being stolen, or I should have taken notice of it. (The RECORDER informed the witness that as he was swearing the pony was in his yard long before it was stolen he had better stand down.)
STEPHEN BATES (Re-examined). We let the pony go as he liked, and he went to the mistress, who gave him a bit of sugar, and he licked her; he will take his round to my customers with anybody who goes with him—he was taken home on Saturday, and I have brought him here—I have had him back a week last Sunday—the Magistrate let me take him away, on my paying his expenses at the greenyard.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour on each indictment, to run concurrently.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1890, and two following days.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and GILL Prosecuted; and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and HUTTON Defended.
EDMUND BLAZE (Police Sergeant T R 24). I am skilled in the making of models—I am acquainted with the premises known as Nevill's bakery—I have made this model of those premises, showing both the outside and inside of Nos. 1 and 2 bakeries, and their situation—it is made to scale, 8 feet to the inch, and is accurate—you approach the bakery from Milkwood Road.,
JOHN GEORGE (Policeman T 432). I am accustomed to make plans—I made this plan of Nevill's bakery in Heron Road; it is to scale, 20 feet to the inch, and is correct; it shows the access to the premises from Lowden Road and Milkwood Road—the plan includes the whole premises—the bakeries Nos. 1, 2, and 3 appear on the plan—I have made another plan of the roads in the immediate neighbourhood, that is to a scale of 202 yards to the inch, and is correct—it shows Milkwood Road and Jessop Road; a small red mark indicates the prisoner's house in Jessop Road—you go through Jessop Road into Lowden Road and Heron Road, along Poplar "Walk, Denmark Hill, past Champion Hill, to the Fox-under—the Hill public-house—the distance between the bakery and the Fox-under the-Hill is 1 mile 157 yards, going by the Milkwood Road, Poplar Walk, and Denmark Hill; and by Jessop Road and Lowden Road it is 1 mile 87 yards.
Cross-examined. Going up Poplar Walk on the left is a large tennis ground, further up is Bailey's Nursery Gardens, and then two or three other fields—on the right is a blank fence, which you cannot go over—
there is no thoroughfare and no houses near; it is rather a lonely part—there is a road leading to Dulwich Station—there is a lot of traffic along the road, foot passengers as well as horses and carts; it leads to Herne Hill Station and Camberwell Green—it would take about twenty-one minutes to walk from the works to the Fox-under-the-Hill.
JOHN MOURER . I live in Daniel's Road, Nunhead—I am a yard-boy employed at Nevill's bakery—I knew the deceased man, Thomas Furlonger, who was employed there as a packer; he was known as Nabob—on Saturday afternoon, 12th April, about twenty-five minutes past three, I went into No.1 furnace room to wash—I entered from the yard nearest the office and went down the passage under the ladder into the place where the furnaces are—I saw something at the other end, and on going up to it I saw it was Nabob lying on his back with his head towards the coke-hole and his feet towards the engineer's, Spurgin's box—the space between the box and the furnace is about two yards—the coke-hole was full of coke, nearly to the edge—he was lying with his head by the side of a heap of coke—he looked as if he was dead—I saw blood on his face—I ran out at once and gave an alarm, and Mr. Harding, the manager, sent me for a doctor—I got back almost immediately and before the doctor—Furlonger was still lying in the same place—I saw him lifted up, and saw this piece of iron lying by the side of his left arm, near the wall, he was almost lying on it; it is a furnace bar, part of the furnace fittings; they are generally put away in the store-room when they are done with; I don't remember seeing that one before, I see some knocking about sometimes—I had seen Furlonger that day, the last time was between one and two, about half-past one, when I was washing the fruit place—he was then walking over to No. 1 bakehouse—the fruit place is nearly opposite the coke-hole, underneath the clock.
Cross-examined. There are two coke-holes—you can get from No. 1 yard to either of them—I don't know whether the one near Milkwood Road was full of coke that day—the one near where Furlonger was found is separated from the furnace passage by a step; the coke comes up to the step, but not into the passage, the coke was nearly up to the ceiling, you could not see over it, a person on the left side of the yard could not see over it to Spurgin's box—there is a big shed just opposite No. 1 bakehouse—there is a large door in that shed leading into the middle yard—there are two open spaces there, nearly opposite the two entrances that lead into No. 1 bakery.
Re-examined. There is a drawing-room opposite No. 1 bakery, almost opposite the door of the coke-hole, that is not always kept shut, I did not notice whether it was open or shut that day—anyone in No. 1 drawing-room looking out of the window could see people going to and fro No. 1 yard, and could watch them into No. 1 bakery.
FRANCIS FAULKNER . I live at 5, Gladstone Place, Wandsworth Road—I am occasionally taken on as an odd man at Nevill's bakery—on Saturday, 12th April, I took some sweepings up to the sweepings-room—I should go through one open door leading to the loading shed on the ground floor, I should have to go up a ladder in the middle yard, and cross the bridge to the sweepings-room on the first floor—that was the way I went that morning at twenty-nine minutes to eleven—I fix the time with certainty; I have a reason for fixing it—as I was going into
the sweepings-room I saw the prisoner come out of it—I knew him before; I worked in his gang—he said to me, "Don't make a mess, for I have done my room"—it was his duty to clean the room—I told him it was two minutes to drawing time; that means drawing a batch of bread—he said, "All right, I have only two steps to do," meaning two steps of the ladder—I then went and emptied my sweepings, and brought my tin down—I came down the ladder, I did not speak to him as I passed; he had to move on one side for me to get down—I then went away and saw him no more to speak to that morning—he was then in his working dress, his baker's dress—I next saw him when he was drawing his second oven in the same bakehouse—that was the sixth oven in the middle of No. 2 bakehouse—that must have been about ten minutes to eleven, it was my business to carry out the batch that he drew—the next time I saw him was down in the same bakehouse, about a quarter-past eleven, when he was dressed and downstairs—I did not stay with him at any time; we stop together when we are waiting for our money, I walked about; I do not go to the office for my money, being only an odd man—I think I was paid first—I did not see anything of him after I was paid; I was paid about ten minutes to twelve, as near as I could guess: that was the last time I remember seeing him that morning, he was then still in No. 1 bakehouse—he would go to the office to get his money; my foreman would bring me mine.
WILLIAM SAMUEL HARDING . I am the manager of Nevill's bakery in Milkwood Road, Herne Hill—the prisoner has been employed there as a baker for about ten years—Thomas Furlonger was about fifteen years in the service; he was about sixty-two years of age; he was very deaf—he was engaged as a baker, but was employed as a packer in No. 1 bakehouse—the prisoner was employed in No. 2—each of the men had a locker into which to put his things, their tools, or anything they required—they were generally kept in the passage leading into the furnace-room—we also kept for their accommodation different dressing-rooms in each of the three bakeries—they are not restricted entirely to the particular dressing-room, but it is the general custom—it is a dressing-room divided into three compartments, at the-corner of one of them some potatoes are stored—there is a dressing-room attached to No. 3 bakery, that would be for the use of the men engaged in No. 3 bakery; it is a long distance from the others—on Saturday the bakers usually leave work soon after twelve as a rule, after I have paid them; as near twelve as possible each Saturday—the other employees the last thing in the evening, when they come in at five or six o'clock—I pay the drivers when they present their tickets—the packers are paid the same time as the bakers—the bakers are paid at the window sides—they come individually to me to be paid—the head engineer pays the seven packers in one or other of the bake-houses—when the bakers are paid, there is no duty to keep them on the premises upon a Saturday unless they have a batch to clear—they change their clothing—that is the object of the dressing-room—on the 12th April I paid the bakers about ten minutes to 12—they come to the window outside—Howard stands outside, seeing me pay the men (The witness pointed out the position of the office and bakeries on the model)—I paid the prisoner thirty-two shillings, his standing wages—overtime is paid by the foreman—I cannot remember the coins with which I paid him—except about three minutes, when I left to go to the shed on the side of my office, I was in my office from a
little before 12 till 1.30—three sides of the office are glass—I command a full view of No. 1 yard—I am able to see anyone who leaves the premises, going towards Milk wood Road—at 1.25 I saw the prisoner at the furthest bakehouse door; the fourth, next to the coke-hole; the coke door is the other side of the bakehouse—he opened the door, went in, and came out again immediately—going in there he would have access to the passage leading to the furnaces—he stood for a second, apparently considering what he was going to do, barely half a minute—I did not see which way he went, my attention was called off—Manerson, my head foreman, was with me; he could see the prisoner; he called my attention to him—he left the office at 1.30—between 11.50 and 1.25 I did not see him leave the premises—if he had, with the exception of three minutes, I must have seen him—I was away about 12,15 for those three minutes—I went to my private house at 1.30, and did not return till fourteen to fifteen minutes past three—about 3.25 Hales came to the office—first he ran past it—he returned with a policeman—he told me something, in consequence of which I followed him to No. 1 bakehouse—I entered by No. 1 door through No.1 passage—I went to the end of the furnaces—there is a box there—I saw the dead body of the deceased lying with his head towards the coke-hole and his feet towards the box—I saw this iron furnace bar by his side—it had been kept on the third or fourth furnace fronting my office—it was lying there all day—it had not been used that day; it was an old bar—I had not seen it that day—I go through two or three times a day—I cannot say when I saw it last, but I had seen it frequently—the dead man's hat was by his side, bent in, and blood on one side—this (produced) is the hat in the condition in which it was found—there are three similar bars to this—they are used to try the coke—there are some back in the store—this is worn out—it was the only one there that day—a tobacco-box was lying near deceased, the feet by the engineer's box, and a pipe by his side, I think—his right trousers pocket was torn out about one and a quarter inch, sticking out from the trousers as if pulled out—there was a good deal of warmth left in the furnaces—there are eight furnaces and two coppers—we had been baking that morning—the man's head was within about nine inches or a foot of a heap of coke; about half a bushel of coke heaped up—I sent for Dr. Garnham—he came soon afterwards—I stayed in the furnace-room some time—about 5 o'clock, from something that reached me, I sent for the prisoner—he came to me in the furnace-room—the body was still there in that corner of the furnace-room—I said to him, "Why were you so late upon the premises to-day?"—he said, "To clear up" or "sweep up this sweepings-room"—(I found out since that he had stayed late on the Saturday previous) he came back about five minutes past two, it was said, to fetch his tobacco-pouch—sweeping up was within his ordinary duty—workmen do not have access to the premises after hours, but if a man left an article we could not stop him—I next said, "Do not be offended at what I am going to request you to do," at the same time making a request to the foreman which he did not hear, 11 Kindly turn out your pockets, and let me see what money you have in your possession," or "in your purse"—he took his purse from his pocket, and showed me what he had in it, 2s. 5d. or 2s. 6d.—I am not certain whether there was a two-shilling piece or two separate shillings, a threepenny-piece and two pennies—I sent a message to his wife—he
did not hear my instructions—I said, "What money did you pay your wife out of your wages?"—he said, "32s. or 33s."—he then went away, and I left within a quarter of an hour—there are five clocks upon the promises—they are correctly shown upon the model—one is in No. 2 yard—the Loudon Road gate was shut up and the key in my pocket before I went in to dinner—the dinner hour is 1.30—the gate was locked about 1.27—it is always locked before I go to dinner—Grimsell, one of my junior clerks, locks it—he brought me the key—it is on my bunch—I had it in my possession at 1.30.
Cross-examined. There are two gates in the Loudon Road, and two entrances in the Milk wood Road—there is one key to each lock—the Loudon Road gates are only used Mondays and Tuesdays—nothing went out of the Loudon Road gate, facing the office, on the Saturday; it was open to let in fresh air about 1.27—a gate in the Milk wood Road was open two or three times on Saturday to let vans out, but not kept open, and there is always a clerk in charge of it—at the back of the big entrance there is an entrance from the middle yard into the shed—I do my part of the bookkeeping in my office, entering the cash account of the day, and surveying what is going on—no one passed at 1.30—I do not enter who passes—I should take notice of a stranger—I should stop a man who was late and inquire—I should not watch a man unless I had any suspicion—if Manerson had not called my attention I might not have seen the prisoner—I should notice a man passing out of the Loudon Road gate, and another out of the Milkwood Road gates at the same time—there is a pigeon-hole in my shed towards the Milkwood Road on my left, as I am looking up the yard, which forms an outlook, and a small window that lifts up—I paid about sixty-six bakers on that Saturday—they come up in a line—they know the order—the foreman stands by the side after he has taken his own money—he is paid first of the gang—he waits, because he pays for the extra work—I cannot ear mark the coins—I paid the prisoner—the store-room contained building materials to repair the premises, old iron, and so forth—the apparatus is for cooking fruit—a brick place divided it.
Re-examined. If the second Loudon Road gate was opened on the Saturday it was locked again directly; I would not be certain whether the dung man was admitted at 6 a.m.—one of those gates is open every day—the Milkwood Road cart gate is always being opened and shut the whole day—it is open at four o'clock p.m. to admit the vans, and shut about six p.m.—Inspector Tunbridge took away a piece of coke like this (produced)—I could not identify it.
By the COURT. The front gate is always open, because it is the inlet to my office, from 5.30 a.m.—the cart gate is opened about 7 a.m. for a few minutes, to allow eight vans to go out, and then it would be open again between ten and eleven, and then shut; that is the Milkwood Road gate—the other gates were both locked, and I had the keys when I went away—the van gate in Milkwood Road was not usually open on Saturdays between two and four, unless vans leave; three vans were let out on the Saturday soon after two—the last time they were opened was shortly after four.
CHARLES HOWARD . I am the foreman of No. 6 gang to which the prisoner belonged—I was present when Mr. Harding paid him his wages about 11.50 or 11.55—he received one sovereign, one half-sovereign, and
two separate shillings—I afterwards went to No. 1 bakehouse, then to No. 2—in No. 2 I paid the prisoner for some overtime, 3s. 5d., with a florin and six threepenny-pieces—he said he had not change, and went away and brought back the penny change about 12.12—I told him if he saw Brown to send him to me as I was waiting to give him his overs—the prisoner left and went into the middle yard (No. 2) towards the van yard and the dressing-room—I saw him go up the steps on to the bridge which leads to the dressing-room—his work was over—he was dressed for home.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether all the bakers were present; I was at the window when they were paid—I was paid before Gorrie, Clifford after Gorrie, 29s.—no man was paid more than 30s. on that day barring Gorrie and myself—I swear Clifford was not paid in two half-sovereigns, one on the other—I saw him take it off the desk—I generally notice the coins given, because there may be a coin short or over—Mr. Harding called my attention to the coin on the Monday.
Re-examined, I nave no doubt about the coin.
JOHN BROWN . I am a baker of 18, Lewis Road, Loughborough Junction, employed at Nevill's—I was paid about twelve o'clock on this Saturday, about the same time as the prisoner; I was in the same gang—I had not changed my clothes—I went to change in No. 1 dressingroom—the prisoner came in—he said, "Charlie," meaning "Charles Howard," "is waiting to give you the overtime money"—I had finished dressing, all but lacing up my boots—I went to No. 2 bakehouse and was paid—whilst putting some things in my locker, next the prisoner's locker, the prisoner came in—I left directly afterwards No. 2 bakehouse—that was about 12.15—it was 12.20 when I got to the "Milkwood," the clock was five minutes fast—that was the last I saw of the prisoner—I left alone.
Cross-examined. I was not examined before the Magistrate nor the Coroner—I was sent for here—Inspector Tunbridge toot my statement about eleven o'clock—I do not remember seeing Weston or Heywood before I went out of the bakery.
JOSEPH SUCKLING . I am a stoker at Nevill's—I assist Spurgin—I assisted him to pay the packers at No. 1 bakehouse shortly after twelve—I paid Furlonger £1 3s. and 1s. 3d. overtime; it was either a sovereign or two half-sovereigns; I forget the other coins—Spurgin deducted one shilling owing to him for tea and milk—he owed me twopence, and I took a threepenny-piece and gave him a penny—then I wont to No. 2 bakehouse to pay the packers—the prisoner passed me in the furnace-room—he had come along the passage near No. 3—I said, "What is your game?"—he said, "I have lost my can"—I was nearer No. 1—he seemed to be looking along the furnaces—he passed up into No. 2 bakehouse through the passage nearer to No. 1—that is the last I saw of him—that was about 12.20—I am not aware of any business he had in the furnace-room—the ovens had all been drawn.
Cross-examined. The men keep their cans in the furnace-room only when they have tea in—they put their empty cans in their boxes.
By the COURT. The prisoner was looking along the brickwork—that is four feet above the floor—I have seen several pieces of iron like this in the furnaces—we use them in the furnaces—I do not remember seeing this particular bar.
FREDERICK HENRY GOODYEAR . I am a foreman at Nevill's—on Easter Tuesday, 8th April, the prisoner asked me to lend him ten shillings—I said I had not got it—he said, "Could you get it for me?"—I said I could—I got it from the oilman Collins—the prisoner said if I could get him ten shillings he would give me twelve shillings on the Saturday—I had to pay tenpence for the loan—on Saturday, 12th, I saw the prisoner in the yard about 12.15—he said, "If I give you twelve shillings that will be right?"—I said, "Yes"—he gave me a sovereign, and I gave him eight shillings out—I saw no more of him—I left the yard—I was at the Bakers' Club about 8.30 or 8.40 that evening—the prisoner came in about nine or a little after—the club is held at the Angel Tavern, Brixton Road—in my presence he paid his subscription, 2s. 2d.
Cross-examined. He owed me 7s. 6d. as well as the 10s.—if I had lost it I should have to pay it—Collins had to pay it at the end of the week—the prisoner would not have been turned out of the club it he had not paid the 2s. on the Saturday—it might have stood over another week.
Re-examined, He was four weeks in arrear—the members can pay weekly, monthly, or quarterly—sometimes the prisoner would let it run three weeks or longer.
EDWARD JOHN COLLINS . I live at 87, Milkwood Road—I assist my father as oilman—I have lent money to the prisoner; on Easter Monday I lent him 2s., and on the Wednesday or Thursday of the same week 1s.—on Saturday, 12th, I went to No. 1 bakehouse at the works, between 11.30 and 12—I usually go the works about that time—I remained in No. 1 bakehouse till seven minutes to one—the prisoner came in at the door furthest from the Milkwood Road about 12.30—I saw him stand there—not long, I should not think a minute, or more than a minute—I did not see where he went—at seven minutes to one I went to No. 2 bakehouse—I went to the prisoner's box at the end of passage furthest from No. 1—I tried to lift the lid—it was locked—I went back towards No. 1—I saw the prisoner coming across the bridge from No. 1 yard, nearest to No. 2 bakehouse—he was coming from the dressing room—he came down the ladder—I went into No. 1 bakehouse—he followed me in—he said, "Hulloa, John," or something, I do not remember what, and paid me 3s. 3d.—that was about five minutes to one—I left him in No. 1 bakehouse, near the Milkwood Road end—I went to No. 2 again—I saw Frank Harding the packer—George Symes came in—" George the packer "we call him—he stayed ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I came out alone, and left the bakery—that day I was paid by Goodyear the loans made to and through him earlier in the week—over a sovereign, I think, £1 0s. 9d.—I do not remember the coins.
Cross-examined. Goodyear was to have 1s. 2d. for the loan of 10s.—I took 10d.—there was a clock opposite me—I guess as 'near as I can remember the time—I was about three-quarters of an hour in No. 1 bakehouse before I saw Goodyear—I will not swear it was not 12.40 when this man repaid me—I should not think it was so early—the first I was asked about this was Mr. Harding sent for me on Monday morning, and asked if I remember seeing Gorrie—no constable had sent for me—I made no written statement to Mr. Harding—an inspector came on Wednesday, and took down my statement—I went to "the prisoner's
locker to find out if he had gone; if locked, that would have shown he was gone or going—I could not recall when I looked at the clock—I went out to hare a drink at the Milkwood Tavern about 1.15—I could not say the time.
Reexamined. It would take me about two minutes to go to the Milkwood Tavern—the best of my memory is, when I went to the Milkwood Tavern it was over a quarter-past one—I am certain it was after I tried the prisoner's locker I saw him coming over the bridge, and that he paid me in the bakehouse—I had come from Clapham—I cannot say what time exactly I left Clapham; it was between eleven and twelve when I left the shop; it is only a few minutes' walk.
By the COURT. I did not call the prisoner When I looked up and saw him, because there were other men I wanted as well—I make a regular Saturday visit—I did not lend to all; I lent to anybody I was almost sure of getting it back—I could not tell when each man received his wages—they come to me when they have received them—I was looking up the bakehouse—I could not be oil looking at the dock, because there was one in front.
By the JURY. I stay on Saturdays up to from 1.15 to sometimes 1.40 or 1.45, not so late as three—I left at 1.15 that Saturday—the men are generally going by 1.30, not all, some are there—all the bakers are away then—I wait for the last chance of getting my money.
WILLIAM THOMAS JAGO . I am a labourer—on 12th April I was helping Roland, a bricklayer, at Nevill's—I went to dinner at twelve at my house, five minutes' walk—we are-allowed an hour for dinner—I was Working in the loose box yard at the dung-pit wall—I came from dinner at 12.55—I went through the first door nearest the office into No. 1 Bakery, through the passage and the furnace-room, to get into the storeroom—I took my coat off, picked up a bag of sand or cement, and came out into the furnace-room with my bag—I saw Gorrie come from the passage from the back, and turn into No. 3 furnace-room; it was the nearest passage from the office between Nos. 2 and 3 furnaces—I was fourteen to sixteen feet from him—I said, "Halloa, Jim, ain't you gone yet?"—I knew him working there as a baker—he said, "No, not yet"—he went up the furnace-room towards No. 8 furnace—I went through the passage out into No. 1 yard, and through into the middle yard back to my work—I stayed at my work three, or four, or five minutes, and went back to the storeroom for sand or cement—I saw no one there then—I went back to my work—I returned to the store between 2.40 and 2.45, when we were clearing up—I went the same way—I went back again—I had a bag on my back, and my attention was not directed to the furnace-room; I did not look—I saw Gorrie as near three minutes to one as possible.
Cross-examined. A person looking from the Milkwood Road could see me crossing the yard with my bag—Roland did not go to the store-room that day—I was in my working clothes—the police did not come to me till Sunday, 13th—Mr. Tunbridge spoke to me on the Wednesday evening; he asked me what time I had been in the works—I told him 12.55—the furnace-room is lighted by swinging lamps in the roof.
HENRY TUBBS . I am a housekeeper at Nevill's—I had lent Furlonger threepence—at 12.45 on this Saturday he came to me in the stable and paid me; that stable faces No. 2 bakehouse—I then went to the office to
get my pay, and returned to the stable—I saw Gorrie in No. 2 bakehouse, standing at the corner of a trough where they make dough, tying his basin up which he brought his food in, in a handkerchief—passing him I said, "What are you hanging about here for, Dan?"—he said, "I am back after my basin"—I walked into the furnace-room, and I saw no more of him—I got a broom for my stable from No. 2 bakehouse; that was at one o'clock.
Cross-examined. I cannot read or write—I can tell the time; it is eight minutes past four now—Mr. Harding first spoke to me about this affair on the Saturday; he asked me if I had seen anybody about the place—I told him I had seen Gorrie—I saw Inspector Tunbridge on the Sunday I was not detained.
Re-examined. There is a clock opposite the bakehouse.
ALFRED DANIELS . I am a washer at Nevill's—on 12th April I went through the dressing-room to get some potatoes to take them to the oven to bake; that was 1.10—I saw the prisoner in the dressing-room, sitting up against the window on the form, reading a newspaper—he was washed and dressed—looking up from the newspaper, he could see into the yard—I said, "Dan, I am surprised at seeing you here, seeing the things that hare been lost, and if there is anything missing they will blame you for it"—he said, "Oh, no, they won't"—I went into the potato-room, got my potatoes, and went down by the ladder into the middle of the yard—I left him at the window; I cannot say still reading, but in the same position—that window would be almost opposite the door of the cokestore—I saw Furlonger between 1.40 and 1.45 in the bread shed, called the big shed; he was brushing the window ledges inside while I was walking through—I left him there; that was the last I saw of him.
JAMES HAYES . I live at 26, Dean's Buildings, Walworth—lama fruitman at Nevill's—on 12th April I was employed in the middle shed, loading vans; it is the left hand of the big shed, you can go through the door of the big one, and it brings you out facing the middle one—I finished loading from 1.20 to 1.30 about, I did not particularly notice the time—then I went to wash myself-in No. 2 bakehouse, in the pail—while wiping myself, Gorrie came in at the top door facing me, and about twelve feet from where I stood, nearest No. 1 bakehouse—I said, "Halloa! I thought you had been home and had had your dinner by this time"—he said he had come back for his tobacco-pouch—he went out at No. 3 door, and I saw him again at the bottom, against No. door, about three feet from it, when I had wiped myself; he was with Wilson—I finished wiping, went up to dress, and straight out in the yard—I saw no more of him—I left the works about 1.35—it was 1.40 when I got to the Green Man, about five minutes' walk.
DAVID WILSON . I am a baker, employed in No. 2 bakehouse—on the day of the murder I had been loading the vans from 5 a.m.; at 1.15 I went to wash in the yard, and in the bakehouse to wipe myself—as I left I met the prisoner coming in at the third door as I was going out—dressing would take me five or ten minutes—I asked him what he was doing—I said, "Halloa, Dan, not gone yet?"—he said, "No, I have come back for my saucer"—I told him I had put it in the trough, and went and got it for him and put it into his hand—the saucer was wrapped up in the handkerchief which he brought in over night with his food in
—I had put it under the trough when I went in to wash, because he might lose it.
JOHN HITCHINGS . I live at 161, Mayall Road, Brixton—I am a jobber and odd man at Nevill's—on 12th April I went into the furnace-room at No. 1 bakery to wash about 1.15—I did not see the prisoner there—I went towards No. 2 yard—I met the prisoner in No. 3 yard, going towards No. 2 bakery; that would be at the Loudon Road end—as I passed him, I asked him what he was doing there—he said he had been out and forgot something and had come back; he went from No. 2 shed to No. 1 bakehouse—I went and found my coat in No. 3 shed, and went to No. 1 bakehouse and saw him again standing inside—I had seen him go round the corner; that was in about five minutes—I went in No. 4 door, the one nearest No. 2 bakehouse and nearest the coke-hole; he asked me if I had seen "Titchie," the head foreman—that was Manerson—I went there for some tea and sugar which I had left on the window inside—I told him, "In the office with Mr. Harding"—I went into the dressing-room, and he walked towards the office; we left together—I met him in the Brixton Road in the evening; in the bakehouse he turned to the door furthest from me—it would take me about five minutes to get my coat and come back—I talked with the prisoner two or three minutes; the conversation in No. 1 bakehouse took place between 1.20 and 1.25—I saw him in the evening about 8.15; he was going to his club—he said, "Have you heard of the murder of Nabob?"—a man had previously told me someone had been murdered or hurt at the bakery—I had not heard who it was—I said I had heard someone had been hurt or murdered, but I did not take any notice of them—he said, "I am sure it is right, for I have seen Mm, his head lies towards the coke-hole and his feet towards Spurgin's box"—I walked on down to the club, and he and his wife followed; he was with his wife then.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me Mr. Harding had questioned him at five, while the dead man was before him; he told me Mr. Harding had sent for him—I could not swear to five minutes; when I saw him walking towards the Milkwood Road, it might have been 1.20 or 1.25—I was examined by the police on 13th April—I was brought to the police-station about twelve and kept till just upon two o'clock the next morning; five were there: Sparks, Balls, Hales, Sharville and myself—I made my statement after we got to the station; Harding and Fox were present—Fox read Gorrie's statement some two hours after mine was made—I could not say if it was more; the others were not in the room when Gorrie's statement was read—I was questioned by Sergeant Fox—he did not ask me if Gorrie was out of the works from 1.20 to 1.30; Fox asked if Gorrie saw me when he came back in the dressing-room for his tobacco-box, and I said it was false, because I had not used the dressingroom—that was asked between twelve and one o'clock; after I had made my statement and said that was false about Gorrie, I was allowed to join the others—when I joined the others they were taken one by one to Inspector Tunbridge—we did not converse about what had taken place; there were several detectives there, and we did not care to speak in their presence; three or four made statements before me.
Re-examined, I was not with the prisoner on any of the bridges on that Saturday—it is not true that we both went together to the dressingroom, nor were we together there—nor that he left me there, or in any
dressing-room that day—nor that I told the prisoner I had finished work and was going to the dressing-room to change—the prisoner did not tell me he had come back to look for his tobacco-pouch, nor that we found it in a bundle of working clothes—he did not tell me he had found his tobacco-pouch—nothing of that kind happened.
FRANK SHARVILLE . I am a packer at Nevill's—I was working on Saturday, April 12, at No. 1 bakehouse—I took a broom across No. 2 yard at 1.30, where I saw Harding and George Symes—on their speaking to me I looked and saw Gorrie going into No. 1 bakehouse, the fourth door, next the coke-hole—I saw no more of him—I saw the old man go over the bridge in No. 2 yard—I was standing with two other packers—he had been to take his sweepings up, and was coming back—he went over to No. 1 yard, passing No. 1 dressing-room—I last saw him in the furnace-room—I went to No. 1 bakery at twenty minutes to two—leaving the packers; I went alone—when I got back I went down into the furnace-room at No. 4 door, passing through the passage nearest the yard—I had been there about five minutes when Furlonger came down there to wash—he washed the same time as I did, he at one end and I the other—I did not go nearer to him—I went out by No. 1 door at 1.55—Furlonger was then in the furnace-room wiping himself on the towel, sitting on Spurgin's box.
FRANK HARDING . I was a baker employed at Nevill's on 12th April—I saw the prisoner that day—I remember Sharville, Symes and I being in the middle yard—I saw the prisoner going into No. 1 bakery some time before that—I saw him when we three were together go into bakehouse No. 1, near the coke-hole door, No. 4 door—I saw him through No. 1 shed, the big shed, opposite No. 2 bakery, through the windows; just against the ladder—we three looked through two windows—they were shut—we told one another of it like—I saw the prisoner again at 1.50—I was then in No. 2 shed—he went up the ladder in No. 2 yard leading to the bridge—he turned to the right towards the sweepings-room—he went in—that is the last I saw of him—I left the works about 1.55—we left Furlonger about 1.50 in No. 2 bakehouse, the furnace-room—that was after I had seen the prisoner go up into No. 2 furnace-room, where we left the old chap—Symes went with me—we were in No. 2 furnace-room when we saw the old man—he was there before we went in, and we left him there—we went in to finish the shed and go in to wash—the old man dressed there—he had only his hat and coat to put on—it would only take half a minute to get from the shed to the furnace-room—he washed in No. 1.
Cross-examined. I went to the Police-station alone about a quarter-past eight on the Sunday evening, and met another man there—the inspector took down my statement, and asked me questions—he read over Goodyear's statement to me—we were released at 2.20 the next morning—Tunbridge read Gorrie's statement; he asked me if it was true—I cannot say what I said—Tunbridge has not Spoken to me to-day—I left oft work at 8.30 this morning—we were late because we have to clear the shed after all is done on Saturdays—I am a packer, not a baker.
GEORGE SYMES . I am a packer—I was employed at Nevill's on April 12th—Frank Harding and I were packing bread from No. 2 bakehouse in the shed in the middle yard—I saw the prisoner three or four times in No. 2 bakehouse between twelve and one, doing nothing particular—I
had to go through it—I left the firm at 1.55—I remember coming out of No. 2 bread shed into the yard—I stood there with Sharville and Harding—Sharville drew my attention to Gorrie going into No. 1 bakehouse—it was the last door up the yard—I saw him through the windows of No. 1 shed—he came out again immediately, and went to No. 2 bakehouse—he came out almost immediately—he then went up the ladder, crossed the bridge over to No. 3 shed, over the dressing-room; he would get to the sweepings-room first, through which he would get access to No. 2 shed; not through the lavatory and office, but through the sack-room and along the passage—that was about 1.45; I did not notice the time till I left the yard—then I went and changed my clothes in No. 2 furnace-room, and then left the yard—five or ten minutes elapsed between seeing the prisoner go in the direction I have mentioned and going down into the yard—the old man came into No. 2 furnace-room to dress just before I left—when I left he had his coat and hat to put on—I was not examined before the Magistrate.
By the JURY. I could not say how many were in the works about that time; they are so scattered—on Saturday I come away at two generally—I was not asked what money I had on Saturday.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. My proof has been taken since I have been here—I was not called before the Magistrate or Coroner.
THOMAS BALLS . I am a packer at Nevill's—on 12th April, a little before one, Furlonger paid me sixpence which he had borrowed—I saw him in No. 1 shed about 1.30, helping to pick up a heap of sweepings and brush the windows, that is, sweep the flour off the windows—he would help all three of us sweep off the flour—directly after that I went into No. 1 furnace-room straight from the bakehouse, through the bottom door No. 2 passage, the door nearest the stable—I washed at No. 2 end, near No. 7 furnace; No. 2 passage, the passage nearest the bakehouse, I went down—I was alone—I walked up No. 1 passage to the other end, sat down, and whilst changing my boots I saw Gorrie—No. 1 end is nearest the office—Gorrie came in by No. 1 passage, the passage nearest the office—he went straight through the furnace-room, leaving it by No. 2 passage, up to No. 2 bakehouse—he walked a brisk pace, and stopped for nothing—I had been in that furnace-room, dusting the furnaces, from soon after eleven till about 11.40, pretty near drawing time—there are eight furnaces, No. 1 being nearest the office, the right-hand side No. 1 passage?coming down—I saw this apparatus bar lying on No. 3 furnace; it had laid there for weeks to my knowledge—it had been used by the engineer to knock the pipes, to start the valves—it was left under the pipe that bent over the furnace—I drawed it from under the pipe, because the thick end fits the pipe—I put it in its place to make tidy the top of the furnace; that was the last time I saw it.
Cross-examined. There are three: engineers in No. 1 bakery—I made a statement on the Saturday night at Camberwell—Inspector James came tome—I made Another statement on the Sunday night at Peckham; Inspector Tunbridge wrote it down on the Sunday—I think it was written down on the Saturday—it must have been about 12 p.m. on Sunday when they wrote my statement—I left the station about 1.80—I believe seven of us were there—Gorrie was separate from us—his statement was not read over by Tunbridge—I cannot recollect it—I was told he had made a statement—I do not remember by whom, nor what
was said about it—Gorrie was not in my company—the men said the police had got Gorrie there—I went to the station about 9 p.m.
Re-examined. We all made statements separately—we were called up by James, and after each statement was made came down again—Gorrie was also questioned by himself.
ALFRED SPURGIN . I am engineer at Nevill's—I have a box in the furnace-room of No. 1 bakehouse, in the corner nearest No. 2 bakehouse—it had been there for years—I knew Furlonger—I put some dirty towels on my box on Saturday, to take home to wash; that had been done for years—he left about 2 o'clock as a rule—I last saw him at 12.20 on this Saturday; he was drawing No. 6 furnace, in No. 1 furnace-room—he was paid at No. 2, about 12.5 or 12.10—I was present—he owed me one shilling—I deducted it—the money was handed to Suckling, and I took one shilling from Suckling's hand—I mean he was paid in No. 1 furnace-room by Suckling, the foreman—I remained there till 12.20—I left Furlonger at No. 6 furnace—that was the last time I saw him alive—I put the towels on the box about 11.50.
By the COURT. These towels remained there a week—they were found where I left them—they were taken to my house to be washed—I saw them there when Mr. Harding sent for me later in the same day, about 4.30—they had been undone; the policeman had looked at them.
JOHN WILLIAM BLOSS . I am assistant to my father, William Bloss, tobacconist, 93, Milk wood Road, near Nevill's, a couple of minutes' walk between the bakery and the Milkwood Tavern—the prisoner owed me about a shilling on Saturday—he came to the shop between one and two, about dinner-time, which is generally about 1.15—I could not say whether I had had dinner or not—I take about half an hour to dine—his face was red—I said, "Have you been running?"—he said, "Yes, I have," and "I shan't want any more tobacco just now"—he paid me one shilling and left the shop—he was with me about a minute—I did not see which way he went—he lives in Jessop Road, in an opposite direction from the works to my shop—the same Saturday night he came to the shop about eleven o'clock—he had twopennyworth of tobacco; he did not pay for that.
Cross-examined. My shop is about three or four doors from the bakery, and, passing from Loughborough Junction towards Herne Hill, you pass the shop and then the bakery.
By the COURT. I have nothing to fix the hour by—I cannot say when I heard of the murder—I know there was a commotion up the road—I think I first heard of it when Frank Harding came in the shop—I do not know the time—in the afternoon, about three, after dinner—I am sure I did not see the prisoner again before the evening—he brought up the subject of the murder with some remark; I could not say what—I understood he had fallen down—I cannot remember who said so; there were such a lot of people in and out—I heard that in the afternoon—I mentioned that to the prisoner in the evening—I said I understood he had fallen down—he said, "No, I think it was foul play"—I did not ask particulars—I have never been in the bakery, only two or three weeks ago, when I went to see the manager, when Inspector Tunbridge wanted me to go to have my evidence taken—I-had not the curiosity to ask the prisoner whether he had left work, or what time it was—I knew the old man was dead—I knew him very well—I was in the shop by myself, and
there were others to attend to—they talked about the murder too—I asked whether he was murdered in or out of the bakery, no more.
GEORGE GRIMSELL . I am a clerk, employed at Nevill's—on Saturday, 12th April, I was employed in the office and about the works until twelve at noon—I went to dinner at that time, and returned at twenty minutes past one—I then went to Mr. Harding and got from him the keys of the back gates, which we call the Loudon Road gates—I went, to the gates and locked them and then went back to the office, which I reached about half-past one—I saw Mr. Harding there and delivered the keys to him—from that time the gates remained locked for the remainder of the day.
By the COURT. There are covered passages up to the Loudon Road gates, those passages go under private houses, and extend over twenty yards.
Cross-examined. I did not see Gorrie leave the yard at all that day—when the gates are closed it is quite impossible for anyone to get over them.
ERNEST HENRY ROOFE . lam a clerk at Nevill's—on Saturday, 12th April, I was engaged in the office inside the north entrance to the works from Milkwood Road—on that Saturday that gate was not opened at all, to let vans in or out—when it was open I opened it—the first time I opened it was about twenty minutes past one—I then let five, six, or seven vans out—I remained at the gate, and immediately locked it after they had gone—nobody went in or out except the people connected with the vans—nobody would be allowed out—when I locked the gate the key remained in my possession—at two o'olock I let out three vans in the same way and locked the gate as soon as they had passed out—I did not let out any man, only the drivers of the vans—after that the gate remained shut until 3.50—I then opened it to let the vans in, coming home—I did not see the prisoner at all that day that I remember—he did not pass in or out of that gate during that day—I recollect clearly what took place on that Saturday with regard to that gate.
Cross-examined. The reason I recollect it is because two or three days afterwards I was spoken to about it by Mr. Harding—I was not called at the police-court, nor at the inquest—the three vans that went out at two o'clock were loaded—I did not check the names of the drivers—those vans went what is called a baker's round, to bakers' shops—there is a fixed time for those three vans to go out on Saturday—I could tell you the names of the drivers, if necessary—I did not look in the vans; they are covered vans with "Nevill's Bread "painted at the side—I have seen the plan of the premises; I saw it at the office; I have never been shown it; there is one hanging up; not for the purposes of this case—the vans are kept down the Milkwood Road gateway before they are loaded—I cannot tell from which bakery the bread came with which they were loaded—it would most likely be from No. 3, I can't say for certain—no one else has a key of these gates but Mr. Harding—it would not be possible for these gates to be opened without my seeing them—no one can go out without my knowledge—I remained in the office till just before the three vans went out—it would be possible for someone to go out by another gate without my knowing it. By the COURT. There are four gates altogether; two were actually
closed, so that it would be impossible for anyone to get out unless they were opened by somebody; this third gate was under my charge; the other gate leading into Milkwood Road is overlooked by Mr. Harding's office; that is the gate for people to come in and out of, who come on business—people often come in and out of that gate; all the rest are specially for the use of the establishment.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I did not part with the keys at any time between 12.50 and 1.50—I could not see if Mr. Harding opened the gates at all—the keys do not hang up in the office, I keep them in my pocket—the bread baked in the different bakeries is all the same—there are three loading sheds, one belonging to each bakery.
Re-examined. I was away from the gates about twenty to twenty-five minutes, between half-past one and two, I was on the premises, upstairs—I went into the lavatory to wash, having the keys in my pocket.
"W. S. HARDING (Re-called by MR. MATHEWS). I had the keys of the gates in Loudon Road from Mr. Grimsell about twenty-seven minutes past one—they were in my pocket in the house up to 3.14; I mean the keys of the two Loudon Road gates—I won't be certain whether I parted with them to open the front gates on the other side, but I think not; I may have—I had a key to the entrance of No. 3 bakery which I kept myself; personally I aid not use that key that afternoon—I may have lent them to Roofe, but only to him; and I have no recollection of giving them to him—the key Roofe had belongs to the head clerk, Mr. Knott, he had it from him and gave it back to him—I did not see him do so; they are not the same keys that I use, Mr. Knott has a key to the entrance of No. 3 bakery as well as myself—he keeps it in his possession—I have a duplicate key, but that is the only key that anyone has to the bakery except myself. By the COURT. There are two keys to the gate of No. 3, one I keep in my own possession, which I do not part with except for a particular purpose; the other key is nominally in Mr. Knott's possession, but Roofe has it sometimes to let vans in and out—there is no other key; if a stranger came I should not let him pass.
By the JURY. I do not think there was any disagreement between the prisoner and the deceased; the deceased was a most peaceable man—I never knew of him having a disturbance with anyone, everybody liked him.
Q. Are you aware of any animus against the prisoner at your works?—A. Well, the men have certainly called my attention to two or three petty transactions, he was suspended during my absence at Deal last year, for apparently tampering with one of the men's boxes—I found the evidence not conclusive, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt and reinstated him, but the men had it in their minds, and they would be on the look out for him in case such a thing should occur again—I found out myself anything but an honest transaction, and I said if I had discharged him for that at the time I should not have punished him as much as his family; I like to keep my men about me.
By the COURT. The coke-holes are on the ground floor—I have not given the men strict orders with regard to the particular room for them to dress in, most of them use No, 1, where there are three partitions; the fruit store is out of that—there is no fixed place for them to wash in, they generally wash outside in the yard on a warm day; if it is cold they take the warmest room they can, the furnace-room most likely; there
are towels in the bakehouse to dry themselves with—the passage leading to No. 1 coke-hole is as nearly as possible on the same level—the coke is brought in from the yard, and shot into the coke-hole; there is a decline from the yard to the furnace-room—coming out from the coke-hole you come into the yard, then you can go up the steps anywhere you like—the doorway of No. 1 coke-hole is always kept locked, and the key is in it; it is directly opposite my office; if the door was open it would keep banging backwards and forwards, and would be a nuisance to me—the coke is not packed close up to the door; anyone could open the door, as the key is left in it; it is a double door, one bottom and one top, like a stable door—there would be plenty of room for a person to go in and stand there—I should think at that time there would be a space of five feet between the top of the coke and the ceiling, the height of the coke store is from nine to ten feet, it might be eleven at the extreme end—I should think the coke would be from six to seven feet high—the coke-hole is intended merely for the deposit of the coke, it is not intended as a means of access from the yard to the furnace.
GEORGE SPARKES . I live in Milkwood Road, and am a foreman baker at Nevill's—on Saturday, 12th April, about a quarter-past four in the afternoon I was in Milkwood Road and saw the prisoner there in company with his wife—I was at the fish shop buying some fish—I stopped and spoke to him—I told him that Nabob had been found dead in the furnace-room, he replied, "Oh, has he?" or something similar to that, I could not say exactly what it was—I said, "The report is that he has slipped down and killed himself"; he said nothing to that—at this time we were standing at the shop—as we were walking towards home he said, "I have had a scrimmage this afternoon. I have been to the Fox-under-the-Hill, and on my way home I met a man who asked me for some money, I told him to go to work for it, the same as I did: one word brought up another; the man struck me on the chest, and I hit him on the nose and mouth, and made his nose and mouth bleed; he tried to get his fingers down underneath my collar, to throw me, and when the scuffle was over a policeman was coming up, and the man ran away"—he turned and showed me the mark on his neck, it looked as if it had been done by a finger nail; it was such a mark as might be caused in the way he described—the skin was abrased—it was not bleeding at the time, it had bled a little I think, it looked as if it had been wounded by a nail slightly—he said, "I have put a clean collar on, because the button-holes of the other one were broken"—he said nothing more—his wife said nothing particular—Gorrie and I crossed the road and spoke to Frank Harding—I left him just below the bakery in Milkwood Road.
JOHN TUNBRIDGE (Police Inspector, Scotland Yard), On the morning of 13th April I received certain information, in consequence of which I took down in writing a number of statements from several people at Messrs. Nevill's bakery—I sent for them to Peckham Police-station, and took the statements there—among the persons I examined that day were Mr. William Samuel Harding, the manager, Frank Harding, the packer, John Hitchings, John Sparkes, and Alfred Daniels—the statements of Frank Sharville, Thomas Balls, and Henry Lewis were taken by Inspector Fox—the prisoner had been sent for before I arrived at the station, he and I arrived simultaneously; at twelve in the day on the
Sunday—I saw him and spoke to him within a few minutes of his arrival—I had seen Sharville, and had been given an outline of the matter by Inspector Fox, but the prisoner was the first person I actually saw to speak to in relation to the matter—Inspector Fox was with me—I told the prisoner that he had been brought there for the purpose of having his statement taken, that it was a very serious matter, and it would be necessary for him to account for the whole of his time from twelve o'clock on the previous day, the money he received and expended, and whose company he had been in; that he should give it in the minutest detail, and it would be compared with the statements of other employes in the works, to test its truth—he said, "I will tell you everything"—I then began to write as he spoke—I took down practically word for word from his lips, as near as I could to convert it into writing; I took it down up to the last paragraph but one as it now appears—I then read it over to him two hours afterwards at the station, before we separated—he did not sign it on that occasion—I said to him, "I should like to see the works, so that I may better understand the places you have been speaking about"—I had not seen the place—I said, "While I am away, consider over what you have told me, and when I return, if there is anything you wish to add, or alter in your statement, we can do so when I come back"—I then left him, and went to the works, and made an inspection of them, that took me some time—I also saw the prisoner's wife at her house in Jessop Road, and she handed me these two collars, shirt, jacket and vest, and this tie was handed to me afterwards—I had a conversation with her; she made a statement, which I took down in writing and read over to heir—I then came back to the police station, that would be between seven and eight in the evening—it was about twelve when I first saw the prisoner, I was with him then more than two hours; it was five o'clock when I left the police-station to go to the works—I was with him then for five hours; but we broke off to have dinner—I was with him from midday till five; there was an interval during that time while the prisoner and myself were getting some refreshment; we retired about three for about half an hour, he had some food in one room, and I had some in another—I was in his company all the rest of the time, with the exception of that half-hour—he was five hours making his statement, it was a very long statement, it took nearly twenty sheets—when I returned from the works I said to him, "I have been to the works, I understand it now, I will now read over your statement again, and if you have anything to add or alter we will do so"—I then read it to him a second time—he said, "I wish to correct one point. I have made a mistake about the nearest place I was to No. 1 bakehouse during Saturday; the nearest point would be when I passed up and down No. 1 yard"—I took that down and read it over to him; he then initialed each sheet, and signed it at the end—this (produced) is the statement which he made, there was no communication between the prisoner and his wife between the times when their respective statements were made; the wife was at her own home, and he was at the police-station—I did not read to him his wife's statement.
The Statement was read as follows:—"I am a married man, and have three children. I have been in Mr. Nevill's employ since August, 1880. I am thirty years of age. I am employed in what is called the middle bakery. On Saturdays all the bakers cease work between 12 noon and
1 p.m. I left off work yesterday a few minutes after twelve. After leaving off work I went into the middle yard and washed. When I left the bakery to wash, my foreman, Mr. Howard, and a baker named Brown were there. There was no other person washing in the yard at the time I was there washing. After I had finished washing I went to the dressing-room on the middle bakery. It was about 12.30 p.m. when I entered the dressing-room. There were several persons in the dressingroom when I went in, amongst whom were a baker named Weston and another named Haywood. After I had dressed I returned to the bakery, leaving behind me both Weston and Haywood, besides others. On reaching the bakery I found Brown there. I put away my tools and then left the premises. Brown left the bakery just before me, and passed out of the gate into Milkwood Road, just in front of me. When I left the bakery there were several packers and others still there, but none of my gang. Amongst those I left behind in the bakery were Wilson, a fruitman; Harding, a packer; a man whose Christian name is George; another packer, and a fruitman named Hitchings. I don't remember seeing anyone about the yard or at the gate when I went out. I looked at No. 1 clock as I went down the yard, and noticed that the time was twenty minutes to one. After getting outside the premises, I turned to the right along Milkwood Road to Heron Road, through Heron Road, up Poplar Walk into Denmark Hill to the Fox-under-the-Hill. In Poplar Walk a man begged of me and I gave him two-pens. This was the only person who spoke to me or to whom I spoke to between the works and the public-house. It is about a mile from the bakery to the Fox-under-the-Hill. I went to the public-house just for a walk I received my money for my week's work (32s.) at the office about 11.80 a.m. It was in three half-sovereigns and a two-shilling piece. The foreman, Mr. Howard, paid me 3s. 5d. for overtime about twelve o'clock in the bakery. He paid me in the following coins, viz.:—a two-shilling piece, a shilling and a sixpence, and I gave the foreman one shilling. When I went into work at six o'clock on Friday evening I had twopence in my possession, and I had spent nothing from the time of going in. I don't know what money my wife may have had on Friday evening, but I should think she probably had about a shilling. On my arrival at the Fox-under-the-Hill, I entered the bar nearest Camberwell, and there were several persons, strangers to me, in the bar when I entered. I know the landlord and landlady by sight, but I am not aware that they know me. I ordered a half-a-pint of 'stout-and-mild,' and a pennyworth of tobacco, as I found I had left my tobacco-pouch behind in the dressing-room at the works. I paid for the beer and tobacco (2 1/2 d.) in coppers. I did not miss the tobacco-pouch until I got to the Fox-under-the-Hill. I had some tobacco in my pipe when I left the works, and I smoked this on my way to the public-house. It was about one o'clock when I was at the public-house, and I only remained there a few minutes. After leaving the public-house I went direct back to the works to look for my tobacco-pouch. I went back by wav of Denmark Hill, Poplar Walk, into and along Jessop Road into Milkwood Road, to the works. I passed by my house on the way, but never went in. I entered the works by the main and only entrance. I had riot seen any person whom I knew between the public-house and the works, nor had I spoken to anyone, or had anyone spoken to me on the
way. I noticed it was 1.25 when I entered the works. As I entered the gate I noticed two young men, strangers to me, standing on the opposite side of Milkwood Road, looking into the works. They appeared as if they were waiting about with the idea of getting a job, or for someone to come out of the works. They were two ordinary-looking young men, and I took no notice of them, could not describe them, and should not know them again. As I crossed the yard to the middle bakery, I spoke to Wilson and Hitchings, who had just finished loading a van in the yard. They said to me, "What, haven't you gone yet?" and I said, "Yes, I have forgot something. "I went into the middle bakery, there was no one there when I went in, but Wilson and O'Meaney and another man they call Jem came in immediately afterwards. When I got into the bakery, I went direct to my box to look for my tobacco-pouch, but it was not there. I then went up to the middle ladder to the dressing-room where I had changed my clothes. The three men, Wilson, O'Meaney, and Jem were in the bakery when I left to go up the middle ladder. They were speaking about having just finished their work. I went out of the bakery by the door into the yard, across the yard to the ladder that leads up into the dressing-room. I saw Harding, Spot, and George sweeping out the middle shed as I was going up the ladder, but I did not speak to them. They were the only persons I saw in the yard. The ladder leads to a bridge, which I crossed, into a passage, and the dressingroom opens into the passage on the left of the bridge, and about six feet from the end of the bridge. On the bridge I joined Hitchings, who came on to the bridge by another ladder, and we both went together to the dressing-room; on the bridge Hitchings said he had just finished work, and was going to the dressing-room to change. I told Hitchings I had come back to look for my tobacco-pouch. We both went into the dressing-room together. There was no one there when we entered. I went to my working clothes, which were in a bundle on a rack, and found the tobacco-pouch in my coat pocket, the outside breast. I told Hitchings I had found it, and then left the dressing-room, leaving Hitchings behind. After leaving the dressing-room I went into the passage, turned to the left, along the passage to the bridge, crossing No. 1 yard. I crossed this bridge and descended by the end ladder into No. 1 yard. When I came down into the yard I saw Packer Nabob sweeping out the big shed in that yard. Nabob was the first person I had met since leaving the dressing-room. I did not speak to Nabob, but crossed direct over No. 1 yard out of the gate into Milkwood Road. I looked at the clock I have previously spoken about as I went out, and saw the time was twenty to two. I had done nothing, nor had I been anywhere, or spoken to any person other than what I have described. What I have described occupied the whole fifteen minutes which elapsed from my entering the works, at 1.25, until I left again, at 1.40 p.m. I could have done all I have described as having done under five minutes had I made haste; but I remained some time in the bakery, speaking to Wilson and the others, but chiefly to Wilson. I noticed no one about the gate as I went out except the clerk—the junior one, who was apparently writing in the office. I don't think he saw me. Some fruiterers, whose names I don't remember, passed out of the gate in front of me; I think there were three, but I don't think they saw me. I did not stand or loiter about anywhere in the works
between 1.25 and 1.40 by myself. The only place I passed any time at all in was the bakery. The last time I was in the furnace-room before the murder was On Thursday evening about eight o'clock, when I went to fetch some salt out of the apparatus-room, which abuts on the furnace-room. The nearest I was to the furnace-room at any time on Saturday, was when I was in the bakery, where I am employed—I mean by bakery, the middle bakehouse. After leaving the works at 1.40 p.m. I went direct home by way of Milkwood Road into Jessop Road. I neither saw anyone I knew nor spoke to anyone on the way. On reaching home I entered my kitchen and there saw my wife. My wife let me in the front door, I told my wife I had been for a walk to the Fox-under-the-Hill. My dinner was not quite ready when I got home. When I first went indoors my wife said to me, "You have not come straight home; X saw some of the bakers going home half an hour ago, when I was out shopping. It was then I told her I had been to the Fox-under-the-Hill. A, good many of the bakers, after leaving work on Saturday, go direct to the Milkwood Arms, and have a drink together; and I have very frequently gone there with them. Yesterday I took a fancy to go to the Fox under-the-Hill by myself, instead of going with the others to the Milkwood Arms. I have gone to the Fox-under-the-Hill by myself of a Saturday afternoon once or twice before, but it was a long time ago. The last time I was in the Fox-under-the-Hill before yesterday was on Boxing Day. As I have said before, I met no one I knew either going from the works to the Fox under-the-Hill, at the Fox-under-the-Hill, or when returning to the Works. I spoke to no one except the man who begged of me, and when ordering the beer and tobacco. All that passed between the beggar-man and myself, was that he said he was hard-up, and wanted a copper; X gave him twopence. He thanked me for it, and we separated, going in opposite directions. It was in Poplar Walk I met the man. After I got indoors I gave my wife 33s. in all; it was made up of three half-sovereigns and three single shillings. The clothes I was wearing yesterday, from the time I left work, were a navy blue jacket and vest to match, and the trousers I now have on. I was wearing the same tie, but another collar and shirt, and the same shoes I am now wearing. The shoes have not been cleaned since I left work yesterday. I remained at home from the time I reached there, about a quarter to two, until about 3.30 p.m., sitting in the kitchen reading and having a glass of ale. I then went out with my wife shopping in Brixton Market, near the railway station, and there my wife purchased a number of articles of food, but I am unable to say how much she expended. We returned home about half-past four, and when in the Milkwood Road, near home, we met George Sparks and his little boy. Sparks is one of the foremen bakers at Nevill's. Sparks and I walked along together towards the works, and near the gate leading into the works we came up to Harding and two or three other men. Just at the time I met Sparks the police ambulance passed us, going towards the works. I asked Sparks if he knew what was up, and he said he had heard that Nabob had fallen down and got killed. I asked him if Nabob had had a fit, or how it was done, and he said he had heard that Nabob had fallen down, and that was all he knew. Nothing else passed between Sparks and I. It was only about a stonels throw from where I met Sparks
to the gate of the works, where Harding and the others were standing. As I passed Harding and the others I heard them speaking about Nabob being found dead, but they did not appear to know anything further than Sparks had told me. Sparks and I merely made a halt with Harding and the others, and then passed on to the end of Jessop Road, where Sparks left me, and I turned down Jessop Road and went indoors I merely told Sparks I had been shopping with my wife, and nothing else. I did not say anything to him about having been into the works to look after my tobacco-pouch, or having been to the Fox-under-the-Hill. Nothing whatever passed between me and Sparks except what I have mentioned. After I got indoors my wife prepared tea, and when we were about half through Pawe, one of the engineers, came to my house and said the manager wanted to see me. I went back to the works with him, and there saw Mr. Harding, the manager. He asked me what I was doing at the works about half past one. I told him I had been out, and forgotten my tobacco-pouch, and had come back to look for it. I did not tell him I had been to the Fox-under-the-Hill. He questioned me as to how much money I had given my wife, and I told him 33s. He asked mo to turn out my pockets, and I did so. I then had a two shilling piece, a threepenny piece, and twopence in bronze. When at Brixton with my wife she went into the Atlantic public-house, and there my wife had a half-pint of stout, and I had a half-pint of mild ale. I paid 3d. for this drink. This was the only money I had spent other than that I have already mentioned. After leaving the manager I went back home, without speaking to anyone, and did not go out again until about eight o'clock. I then went to the Bakers' (Sub at the Angel public house, Brixton Road, and remained there about three-quarters of an hour, and then went back home. At the club I paid 2s. 2d., and had a half-pint of stout and mild, for which X paid 1 1/2 d. My wife walked with me from my house to the Bakers' Club; she remainded outside until I came out, and then we went home together. As we were going to the club we went into the Atlantic public-house, and my wife had half a pint of stout, and I had half a pint of Burton ale. My wife paid for these drinks. We got back home again about ten o'clock, and I did not go out again. My wife went out to do some more shopping, but I remained indoors. We went to bed about eleven o'clock, and I got up about a quarter to nine this morning, and was having my breakfast about half-past ten, when Spurgin, another engineer, came to my house, and said Mr. Harding wanted to see me. I went with Spurgin to the works, and was then told I was wanted down at Peckham Police-station, to which place I went with a gentleman who was waiting at the works. I had not been out of doors this morning when Spurgin came. I have a distinct recollection of all that has occurred since twelve noon yesterday, and what I have told you, and what you have written down, is a true statement. I have omitted nothing. I am positive I never went to any part of the works after twelve o'clock yesterday, except those I have mentioned, and I never went anywhere, met any person, paid away any money, or told any person anything beyond what I have stated to you; nor has anything occurred to me other than I have mentioned in this statement. The foregoing statement has been read over to me, and it is a true and correct account of all my doings since twelve o'clock yesterday, the 12th
of April, except that the nearest point I was to the furnace-room of No. I bakehouse after the time mentioned, was when I passed up and down No. 1 yard, which is nearer the furnace-room mentioned than the bakery where I am employed.—(Signed) DANIEL STEWART GORRIE."
Witness continued. Up to that time I had not taken any other statements; I told him I had other people waiting to be seen, and that I would see him later on—it was then that the others were brought to see me—during that time the prisoner went down into the library, the others were brought in one at a time, into the local office of Inspector Fox, and I then took in turn and separately the four statements I have mentioned—before taking the prisoner's statement I did not understand that he Was the suspected party, or one of the suspected parties—Inspector Fox Was present part of the time; he was in and out—I was not present when he took the statements from the witnesses; those statements were afterwards brought into the office and read by me to the prisoner; that was near midnight—the divisional surgeon, Dr. Gallie, had been sent for and examined the prisoner, and after he had completed his examination, I sent for the prisoner and said, "I have seen and taken the statements of several of the other people at the works, some of which contradict in a serious way the statement you have made; I will read over their statements to you, so that you may hear what they say—I then read over to him Mr. Harding's statement (This was put in and read)—after reading that to him he said, "I never was in No. 1 bakehouse after twelve o'clock on Saturday, I only opened the door and looked in"—the next statement I read to him was that of Sparks. (This was put in and ready)-after that was read to him he said, "That is true, I did tell him that I did not care about you (the Witness) knowing that I had forgotten I had told Sparks about it; what I told Sparks was true"—the next statement I read to him was that of Balls—(read)—to that the prisoner said, "I was not in the furnace-room, I had no occasion to go there"—Sharville's was the next statement—I did not read the whole of that to him. (This was read in part)—in r, ply to Sharville's statement the prisoner said, "I merely looked in at the door, as I said before"—the next statement I read was that of Hatchings; each of the persons were present as I read their statement—after reading that to him, the prisoner said, "You remember seeing me in the dressing-room?"—Hitchings said "No; I first met you in Middle-yard"—the prisoner said, "You know I told you about my tobacco-pouch," to which Hitchings replied, "You did not tell me anything about the tobacco-pouch; I did not dress in the same room"—the next statement read was Frank Harding's (read)—upon that being read the prisoner said, "I was not in the building; I went out at ten minutes to two. When you saw me at No. 1 bakehouse was when I was at the door, just before I went out"—the next statement read was that of Alfred Daniels (read),—in answer to that the prisoner said, "Yes; that is right; the window I was at is facing the coke-hole; it was twenty-five minutes to one, and not ten minutes past when you saw me"—I was present when Dr. Gallie took some notes of his examination of the prisoner, which I read over to the prisoner—this is the document (read), to which the prisoner said, "The marks on my hand were caused through striking it with the iron end of the trough lead on Thursday night. I can't account for the mark on my throat; I might have done it with my nail"—it was after that that I mentioned the fact that I had seen the prisoner's wife—I said, "I
have seen your wife, and she tells me as follows," and then I read to him what she had told me—this is the original document—it is a pencil Statement which I took at the prisoner's house (read)—to that he said, "Yes; that is right; I scratched my hand by striking it against the fence., I did not like to tell you about it; I had forgotten I had told Sparkes. I went down to the Fox-under-the-Hill to see some men about the Daily News; but they had gone when I got there; it was about a bet we had made the previous Saturday at the Atlantic public-house"—I told him the clothes had been handed to me by his wife—he said, "Yes; they are the clothes; the button-holes in the collar were broken out in the scuffle with the man I told Sparkes about"—he was still wearing the trousers which he had been wearing on the Saturday—something over half an hour after this, about two o'clock, after all the others had gone, he was charged by Inspector Fox with the wilful murder of Thomas Furlonger, by striking him on the head with an iron bar—he made no reply to that—he was then detained in custody.
Cross-examined. Inspector Fox was the local officer—I was sent specially from Scotland Yard; we were acting together—Fox was cognizant of every step I took in the matter; he got to know what was done, and I knew what he did—I came down on Sunday, the 13th, to make inquiries—the prisoner was not brought to the station by my direction—Sharville and he were both there—Fox took Sharville's statement, it was partly taken when I arrived, he completed it later on; I was not present; I went there to investigate the matter; I put questions sufficient to clear up their movements; I knew that the dead man had been robbed of money—I did not ask the other persons to account for their money; not if they had cleared off the premises; not if we could clear up their movements; I should not accept one man's statement that he had left the premises; we should verify it—I did not ask the other persons about the money, because they were taken off the premises—I did not go to the wife of any other man except the prisoner—I had not any other man under examination for four hours and a half—the prisoner's statement was not made in answer to my questions—I partly put questions; for instance, if he had travelled to a certain place at a certain time, and then began with another time, I would stop him and say, "The last time you said was such a time, now where did you go after that?"—to keep him to the point—I asked him about the money specifically—I had not then seen Goodyear; I did not ask him about spending more money than he had received; I did not then know that he had—I believe the other men had gone after twelve—I did not, to my knowledge, speak to Sharville outside the Court yesterday; very likely I did; I have spoken to all of them; I don't recollect speaking to Sharville after he had given his evidence; I don't think I did—it is not correct to say that the men had Gorrie's-statement read over to them; there was a portion read to Hitchings—there was a statement made by Henry Lewis; a portion of that was read over to the prisoner; there was a portion not read over—when the prisoner spoke about the scratch he had received in the fence, he was alluding to the scratch on the back of his hand—he said, "I did that by striking it against the trough lead"—ho said that soon after I first saw him, between twelve and one in the morning.
Re-examined. The portion of Hitching's statement that I read to the prisoner was the part about finding the tobacco-pouch.
Frederick Fox (Inspector P). I took the statements of Sharville, Balls, and Moore—Bennett took Daniels' statement, a copy was made and handed by me to Tunbridge—when the prisoner was at the station on Sunday, 13th, I noticed marks on the back of his left hand—I was present when he was charged—after that I searched him—in his purse taken from his trousers pocket was a florin—I had previously searched the waistcoat brought by Tunbridge, and found one shilling—that was at his house the same Sunday evening about seven, when we took possession of it—at the station, pulling the shilling out of the waistcoat, I said, "I found this shilling in your waistcoat pocket"—he said, "Yes, I know,"—on the Saturday night I was in the furnace-room near the coke-hole—under the deceased's head, on a slab on which the deceased was lying, in another part of the building to which he had been found, in a stable, I found this threepenny-piece (produced) on the plank—I picked it up—I have kept it Since.
Cross-examined. I did not consider it material—I found nothing to turn upon it—there was blood on the plank, and on the deceased's head—I did not take Henry Lewis' statement marked H—it is in Detective Bennett's writing—I did not say at the Police-court that I took it, nor that I took E, F, and H—H was read to the prisoner in my hearing by Tunbridge—I am trying to recollect whether Tunbridge read it—I was present when the statements were read—I am not in a position to state, unless I see Tunbridge's minutes that he made on their being read; I cannot state from memory—I made no minutes—I saw what was done. Re-examined, Sergeant Bennett is here—a lot of statements were taken in pencil.
By the COURT. I answered the questions put to me by the representative of the Treasury—I knew the threepenny-bit was kept—I inquired about it—I mentioned to Mr. Sims, who examined me, that I had found threepenny-bit, and could make nothing of it—I was examined before the Magistrate by Mr. Sims upon the points he wanted me to speak upon, and when he finished I could say nothing further.
By the JURY. I searched other men, the result being nothing turned upon it; I cannot give you the particulars of all I searched—I questioned them—the men left the Police-station between twelve and one on the Sunday night—none of them hung about afterwards that I am aware of—I did not see any—I sent for the prisoner when I got to a certain point in Sharville's statement about 9.30 on Sunday morning—Gorrie's name was mentioned, and I immediately sent officers for him—his name appears in Sharville's statement—it was necessary to have him then at the station—we fetched the men as we could find them out and got through the work; they are known by nicknames, such as "Spot," and so on, and we have to find out who is there and who is not.
BENJAMIN BENNETT (Police Sergeant). I took down this statement of Sharville, and handed it to Fox on Sunday, 13th April—on Monday, 14th April, I took the prisoner to the Police-court at Lambeth. (I am looking at a statement I took down at the time in the charge-room at the Police-court in the prisoner's presence)—whilst there the prisoner said, "Do you think I shall be able to clear myself to-day?"—I said, "I cannot answer that question;" he said, "When I came out of the bakery about two o'clock on Saturday I went round past ray house to the corner of Loudon Road, where I met a man who asked me for
some money"—I have submitted a report of this to my inspector, and this is a copy (produced)—"I told him he was as well able to work for his living as I was. He then struck me on the chest, and I hit him on the nose. He caught hold of me by the collar, and tried to throw me down. A policeman was then coming, and he ran away. I then walked past the house and past the bakery into Mr. Bloss's, tobacconist's. shop. I paid him a shilling I owed him for some tobacco I had during the week. Mr. Bloss said, 'You look as if you had been running"—I said to the prisoner, "If you desire any person to be brought forward on your behalf, if you will give me any definite particulars I will see that they attend the Court"—he said, "I do not know anyone who saw the fight"—he was afterwards taken before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. He was in custody then, brought up for re-examination.
Re-examined. I received the clothing, and conveyed it to Dr. Gallie for his examination.
THOMAS BURNETT (Policeman 226). On Saturday, 12th April, I was on duty near Herne Hill at about two o'clock—I left Cold Harbour Lane, and went up Herne Hill to the end of Poplar "Walk, which I reached about 12.25—I went as far as Mr. Bailey's nursery, and then back to Herne Hill—I went all round by the Milk wood Road to the Board School in the Loudon Road, which I reached about one o'clock; the school is at the comer of the Jessop and Loudon Roads—I turned down the Milk wood Road, passed along by the bakery, and round Poplar Walk, where I turned that point at about 1.25; from there I went to the Camberwell Road Station, opposite the bakery—during my whole patrol I heard no sound of disturbance; I saw no sign of beggar or tramp—no eomplaint was made to me.
ROWLAND HILL . I am landlord of the Fox-under-the-Hill, at Denmark Hill—on Saturday, 12th April, I was in my bar from eight a.m. till 1.32, backwards and forwards in the business—between twelve and 1.30 about fourteen or sixteen people were in the bar, six or seven in the Private bar, three or four in the middle—I knew them in the private bar; I have seen the prisoner by sight, seeing his face in the paper—I was busy that day; I do not recollect any inquiry being made about a newspaper—I was not before the Magistrate. Charles Howard (Re-examined). I was foreman of No. 6 gang—I was working with the prisoner on the Thursday and Friday night; I heard no complaint of injury to his hand—an abrasion is a serious matter, working with dough, and has to be taken special care of. Cross-examined. Over one hundred are employed at Nevill's bakery.
RICHARD WILLIAM GARNHAM . I am a surgeon, practising in Milkwood Road—on 12th April, at 3.30, I was called to Nevill's bakery—at 3.35 I went to the far end of No. 1 furnace-room—I found the deceased lying on his back, his head in a quantity of blood—I formed the opinion he had been dead from half an hour to an hour, approximately—he must have been lying some time before death, because of the quantity of blood that was under him—I saw the hat picked up, and the stains of blood and hair upon it—on the 14th I made a post-mortem examination with Dr. Gallie—the result was stains of blood on the hands, and the left thumb nail slightly broken, scratches on the forehead and nose, and slight cuts; on the right side of the head, immediately over the ear, five.
wounds, varying in length from a quarter to half an inch—the blows had been violent, dividing the scalp, one of them had notched the bone—on the left side there were two similar cuts, one of which had penetrated through end notched a small piece out of the bone—on the back of the head were two small cuts—the cause of death was the shock and concussion of the brain, hæmorrhage, and a small extravasation of blood on the brain, acting On a man who had a weak heart—the deceased's muscular strength was tolerably good for a man of his age—any one of the blows would not necessarily cause death.
Cross-examined. His face and nose were not covered with scratches there were many—on the forehead and on the bridge of the nose—his height was 5 ft. 4 in., I should think—a short man—his nails were short, bitten down, except the thumb of the left hand; that was the only one that had any projection beyond the quick; that was broken, and the piece still hanging; one-sixteenth of an inch—that had been bitten, but not to the same extent as the others—he must hare wiped it off if that had been done during life or sensibility.
CHARLES PENNELL GALLIE . I am a surgeon, practising at 125, Camberwell Road—I went to Nevill's bakery on 12th April to furnace-room No. 1; the deceased had been removed—I noticed a heap of coke neat the furnace nearest to where the deceased was found, the other side of the passage from the box—I gave Sergeant Bennett some pieces of coke to take charge of—I saw them put into a similar bag to this (produced); on Sunday, 13th April, about 10 p.m., I examined the prisoner at Peckham police-station—the exhibit produced is the accurate result of that examination; the statement about the injuries to the left hand was made in my presence—it has been accurately described to-day—the post-mortem was on 14th April; on 17th Aprill received from Bennett some clothing—I examined them for blood stains—I found on the trousers one small round spot two and a half inches from the bottom of the left leg, and half an inch in front, on the outside seam; between one-sixteenth and one-eighth of an inch across—a white and a coloured collar were also given to me; on the coloured one I found a prominent spot of blood where the smear was, which has been cut out for examination—some portion still remains on the collar—the trousers did not appear to have been washed—I found no stains on the white collar—I examined the band of a collar—I have a piece which I cut out from which a further piece has been taken—I found a slight smear of blood, with a little spot also on the shirt-band; on the edge of it, near the button-hole in front; both button-holes were broken, I see from my notes, when I received them—I examined two neckties and found no stains—one is dark and one light—I examined the waistcoat, coat, and boots—I examined the pieces of coke when I picked them up—there was blood and hair upon them—I saw the iron bar; there was Wood and a very small amount of hair on it—I saw the scratches on the deceased's face—they might have been caused by having fallen forward and struck any rough body—I should not like to select coke, but upon any roughish surface; the abrasions, mentioned in my report, on the back of the prisoner's left hand, were accompanied by slight local swellings—they" might have been caused by contact with the coke, but I do not select coke as being the, thing—as surgeon of that division of police, I have seen Henry
Helsey, 233 P, this morning in bed in a separate house—he is too ill to be here—ho was a witness before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. The collar smear was pointed out to me—a man touching him with blood on him would account for it—the stain on the shirt-band might have been caused by a slight wound in the neck—the spot on the trousers would be about the size of the end of an Eagle pencil, not the ring end—there were no blood stains on the boots—there was nothing on the cuffs proved to be blood, there were stains—the weather was very bad on the Sunday night—the skin is more easily affected in such a temperature as existed then—there had been no attempt to wash either collars or shirt.
JOHN TUNBRIDGE (Re-examined). I was present before the Magistrate when Kelsey was examined—the prisoner was represented by the same solicitor then; he had an opportunity of examining the witnesses called, including Kelsey.
(The Deposition of Henry Kelsey, Police Constable 233 P, was read;—"On Saturday afternoon, 13th April, I was called to Nevill's bakery, and got there at half-past three. I saw the deceased lying on his back in the furnace-room. He was dead. After the doctor came I moved the body, and saw his right hand trousers pocket was pulled half-way out No money was found on him.")
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. Mr. Newton was present when the prisoner was committed for trial—by his advice the prisoner reserved his defence.
GUILTY— DEATH .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 22nd, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
MR. A. METCALFE Prosecuted,
THOMAS ROLFE . I am a labourer, living at 168, Shirland Road—on 1st April I went in the Devonshire public-house, Harrow Road, between eight and nine, and remained there about half an hour—the prisoner and two or three others came in together, and the prisoner me if I would stand him a pot of beer—I gave him a shilling to get a pot, taking a shilling alone out of my left-hand trousers pocket—I had never seen the prisoner before—after leaving the public-house I went home to Shirland Road—I was indoors about an hour and a half, I daresay; then someone came to my door, and I was nailed; I went and found the prisoner, and one of the men who had been at the public-house—the prisoner asked me for sixpence to take them homo—I told them I had not got sixpence to give anyone, but I told them if they wanted sixpence to take them homo I would give them sixpence—I gave them sixpence from my left-hand trousers pocket—the prisoner snatched me by the arm, and £2 4s. 8d. that I had in my hand was knocked on the ground—the other man struck me on the arm at the same time—I tried to get the money—the prisoner caught me by the throat, and pulled me backwards, and the other man picked up the money, and ran away—the prisoner said, "Away with you, Jemmy"—the man got away, and I have not seen him or my money since—this occurred on the pavement in Shirland Road
—I held the prisoner and gave him into custody, and charged him with robbing me—I picked up one sovereign—I lost £1 4s. 8d. altogether—I was sober.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, I was not turned out of the Devonshire—I did not go into the Earl of Derby with you—I was not robbed a quarter of a mile from my house—I was not drunk—I did not run after? the other man; I wanted to, you would not let me—you wanted to run, I would not let you—I did not come back to you and say, "I will hare someone, I will have you"—I did not give you money several times in the Earl of Derby—you brought me change out of the shilling I gave you in the Devonshire—I did not send two little girls for a policeman; a policeman followed us up.
Re-examined. I did not leave hold of the prisoner from the time he caught me by the throat till I got to the police-constable—I was 300 yards from my house I daresay when I met the constable—I picked up the sovereign on the flags, about fifty yards from my house, where the struggle had taken place—I had gone outside and walked along the pavement with the prisoner and the other man, talking to them after they called me out.
WILLIAM CUMMINGS (Policeman X 850). I was on duty in Shirland Road on this night—a young girl told me I was wanted—I went and saw the prosecutor holding the prisoner by the arm, the prisoner wanted him to leave go—he said he should not, and accused him of knocking his hand out of his pocket and stealing his money—the prosecutor was not drunk, he had had something to drink—ho was sensible—the prisoner was sober—I took him to the station—he was charged—he said in the street that the other man picked the money up and ran away; the had nothing to do with it—at the station he made the same defence—the prosecutor showed me the sovereign he had picked up—they were 150 to 200 yards from the house when I came up.
Cross-examined. He said before he got to the station he had lost £1 4s.—you told the Inspector at the station He was talking a drunken charge—I told the Magistrate the prosecutor had had a drop to drink, and afterwards I said he was sober.
The Prisoner called THOMAS RICHARDS. I am a gas stoker, of 34, Trenton Street, Notting Hill—I was with the prisoner and prosecutor in the Earl of Derby and the Devonshire—the prosecutor was in a muddlish state; I should not say he was drunk, and he was not sober in the Devonshire—a man named Hall paid for two or three pots, and I paid for some, and the prosecutor paid for some—we were asked to go out of the Devonshire for being a bit noisy; we went into the Earl of Derby—the prosecutor called for beer and bread and cheese; Hall started singing, and the prosecutor joined in the chorus—we went in the tap-room; a man brought a rat in, and it was killed by two dogs—the prosecutor and Hall were asleep in the tap-room—the prosecutor said something about going home; I don't remember his offering you sixpence to see him home—we were from five to a quarter to nine in the Devonshire and the Earl of Derby—the prosecutor several times gave you money to fetch beer.
By the COURT. I left the prisoner and prosecutor at the Earl of Derby at a quarter to nine; a stranger was with them—Hall went homo with me.
Cross-examined, Macdonnell was the man I left with the prisoner and prosecutor; I never heard him called Jemmy; I don't know his Christian name-we were all the worse for liquor; I was not drunk—I saw the prosecutor take money out of his trousers pocket several times; everybody in the public-house could see him do so—I did not go to Shirland Road; I, went home at a quarter to nine.
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that he was drinking with the prosecutor in the Devonshire and Earl of Derby; that the prosecutor said, he was drunk, and offered him 6d. to see him, home; that he did so; that the prosecutor went indoors, saying he would be out directly; that after waiting some time they knocked and asked for the 6d.; that prosecutor said they might as well see it out till the houses shut; that he was pulling money out, and some of it fell on the ground, and was run off with by 'the other man; that the prosecutor tried to catch him, but was too drunk; that he, the prisoner, went and met him; and that he sent two girls for a constable.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, May 21st and 22nd, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended Wolstenholme.
JAMES STACEY . On 3rd April I was lodging at the Camden Arms beerhouse, Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell, kept by Mr. Humphreys—I have seen the three prisoners using that house—I believe Wolstenholme is Mrs. Humphreys's brother—he lived at the beerhouse for some time, and acted as barman—I did not notice the prisoners in the house on 3rd April,' the Thursday before Good Friday—I am not always there—some time before they were taken into custody I saw in the sawdust cellar downstairs some implements that looked like long rods—they were wrapped up, and I did not undo them, but I could feel some iron in between—I have seen things very similar outside the Court to-day.
CHARLES ASHMAN . I live at 33, Allen-street, St. Luke's, and am caretaker to Messrs. Whitlock, wholesale provision merchants at that address—the premises are approached by a wide outside gate in Allen Street; in the wide gate is a kind of wicket-gate—from just inside the wicket to the office is about ten yards, I should think, not more—the office has the usual appointments, and a safe, and doors back and front, which are kept locked at night—on 3rd April I secured the premises, and made them quite safe, and went to bed; the wicket-gate would be double-locked—at 2 a.m. on 4th April I was called up by the police—I found the wicket-gate forced open—there were marks on it close to the lock—Bury Street is within a stone's throw of Whitlock's premises, and the Camden Arms is five or six minutes' walk off.
there were a rare lot there—directly after I served him they went out—it was just before the house closed, at eleven or twelve—I think we closed at eleven that night—Inspector Leach afterwards showed me the bottle, and I recognised it.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. My stepfather's name is Humphreys.—these bottles come from Adam Hill, the gin distiller—when the police came on Good Friday I told them I had put the beer into bottles like this the day before—they called my name at the Police-court, but I was there too late—I was twice at the Police court—the police saw me there each time, but did not put me into the witness-box—we don't have many people in for beer in bottles.
Re-examined. I was called as a witness, but I was not there.
MARY ANN CANTLE . I live at 5, Bury Street—McLaren lodged there in the back room, ground-floor—early on Good Friday morning the police came to my house—before that, at twelve or after twelve, McLaren had given me a drop of beer in a bottle, this is the bottle; he had an empty bottle under his arm—the prisoner Wolstenholme was with McLaren—it is quite possible for a man standing outside the house at the back to reach the window-sill of the bedroom—I was-in the yard between seven and eight, taking my clothes from the line; I saw nothing on the windowsill then except house flannels and things—there were not two jemmies and a catgut bow there then.
JOHN ROBINSON (Police Sergeant G). At 10 p.m. on Thursday, 3rd April, I was with Sewell, Blight, and Mather, in Bed Lion Street, Clerkenwell, near the Camden Arms, on which I was-keeping observation—I saw the three prisoners and others in the private bar of the Camden Arms—after a little time Weston and McLaren left the house together—we followed them through various streets till they came to Allen Street, where Messrs. Whitlock's premised are—there we lost sight of them—I and Mather went back to Bed Lion Street and continued watching—that was about half-past ten, perhaps—we waited twenty minutes or so, and then Weston and McLaren, returned and went inside again—about midnight the three prisoners and two other men left the Camden Arms—I and Mather followed them through several streets till I came to Bury Street, where the three prisoners and the two other men entered No. 5, where McLaren lived—we remained there rill half-past one, when I saw the three prisoners leave the house (I did not see the other two men)—I and Mather followed them to Allen Street—I there 'lost sight of McLaren and Westdn at about the same spot as we had previously lost sight of them, outside the gateway of Whitlock's premises—we kept Wostenholme in sight—he remained for a short time in Allen Street, then left, and went back to 5, Bury Street—he went in and stayed a few minutes there, and I saw him come out with this bagdoubled up under his arm—he went in the direction of Goswell Road and Whitlock's—I met Blight, and we stopped Wolstenholme in Allen Street—I said, "We are police officers; we want to know what you have in that bag?"—he replied, "Nothing"—We took him to Old Street Police station—shortly after Weston was brought in by Sewell and Mather—up to that time the bag was fastened—after McLaren was arrested Mather handed me this key, with which I was able to open the bag—in it I found these things, a brace, six bits, a drill, a breast-plate, a gimlet, a chisel, two steel wedges, a piece Of catgut two keys, a little
bottle of oil, and some rag—Wolstenholme said, with reference to them, "I picked them up in Compton Passage. I know nothing of these two men"—there is such a place near—you would not go through it going from 5, Bury Street to Whitlock's premises—the prisoners were charged with breaking and entering Whitlock's warehouse, and further with possessing housebreaking implements—Wolstenholme said, "I don't know these other two"—they were brought before the Magistrate on the Friday.
Cross-examined by McLaren. Blight went to your house in the morning; I did not go then—Blight was the first to enter your room—I went into the front room and spoke to the landlady—your hat has not been found—you wore the landlady's son's hat.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There may have been six or seven persons in the private bar of the Camden Arms at ten o'clock—I was disguised as a sweep on this day, and keeping some distance from the house—Mather was disguised as a costermonger, and was watching me—when we lost sight of the prisoners we were some little distance from them—I followed one of the prisoners back to Bury Street—Compton Passage is at the end of Allen Street—a person could pass through Compton Passage, coming from the Angel towards Bury Street; it would be out of his way—"Wolstenholme meant that he knew nothing of the contents of the bag.
Re-examined. I saw Wolstenholme go into 5, Bury Street a second time, and remain a few minutes there and come out again—from the time be came out with the bag under his arm till he was stopped I did not Jose sight of him.
WILLIAM BLIGHT (Detective G). On the evening of 3rd April I was with other officers in Red Lion Street—Weston and McLaren came out of the Camden Arms, and were followed by Mather and Bobinson—about half an hour afterwards they returned, and from what Robinson told me I concealed myself in Allen Street, just opposite to Messers. Whitlock's premises, and about twelve yards from their door—I was dressed in plain clothes—after waiting about an hour I saw Weston and McLaren come up Allen Street and go to Messers Whitlock's warehouse door—Weston struck a light and did something to the wicket-gate and it went open—Weston went inside, said something to McLaren which I could not hear—McLaren crossed the street and spoke to a man standing on the other side, whom I believe to be Wolstenholme—that man walked away; McLaren returned to the warehouse door where Weston was, and they went inside and closed the door after them—I came out from my hiding place and told Robinson what I had seen—I returned to the corner of Clark Street, two doors from the warehouse, and saw Wolstenholme coming along Allen Street with this bag under; his left arm—Robinson stopped him and asked him what he had got in the bag; he said, "Nothing"—land Robinson took him to the station—at the corner of Clark Street, a turning out of Allen Street, two doors from Whitlock's, he began to resist; he called out "Let me go," and half a minute after I heard someone running down the street and someone calling out "Stop thief I"—about half-an-hour after taking Wolstenbolme to the station, I went to 5, Bury Street—I tapped at the door gently with my hand—McLaren opened the door, he was fully dressed with the exception of his hat; he said in an undertone, "Is it all right?"—I
said, "Yes, it is all right, we are police officers"—Robinson said, "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with two other men in breaking into a warehouse in Allen Street"—he said, "I know nothing at all about it"—I went into his back room on the ground floor, where I found these three keys in the washstand drawer—I left an officer in charge of the room and took McLaren to the station—I came back and made a more thorough search of the room; the window was two or three inches open, and no catch was on it—on the window-sill outside his bedroom window I found two large jemmies and a catgut bow, used for working a drill, wrapped in this bit of cloth; the drill was found in the bag Wolstenholme was carrying—I took the things to the station and put them on the table by McLaren's side, and said, "This is what I found outside your bedroom window"—he said, "I know nothing about them"—when charged with the others he made no answer; afterwards, when he went outside with me to the rear, he said, "This is all my own fault, mixing up with these people; it is all my own fault"—I went back to the premises in Allen Street, with Robinson and Sewell, and saw three distinct jemmy marks on the gate—the marks corresponded exactly with this jemmy, which Sewell picked up.
Cross-examined by McLaren. This hammer was found in your room under the washhand-stand; I did not say it was tied up with the other things in the cloth—I did not tell your landlady I found the jemmies on the dusthole—I found them on the window-sill, and I told her so; the dusthole and window-sill are about two yards apart—Robinson was there.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was opposite No. 53, just across the road, when I saw McLaren speak to a man whom I believed to be Wolstenholme; I could not swear to him.
MARY ANN CANTLE (Re-examined by McLaren) He said he found the irons on the dusthole—next day he asked me what I kept on the window sill, and I said flannels and brushes—when they found the things they said they found them on the dusthole.
By MR. BODKIN. Robinson said he found the things on my dustbin, and my lodger did not know anything about them, and I must—three officers came in together next day—the second time the officers came, Robinson asked me to get up and dress; they looked round my room, and while they did so I stopped in my lodger's room with the other detective.
JOHN ROBINSON (Re-examined). I went back with Blight and Leach to the house about two hours after the prisoner had been taken to the station, or not quite so long—we searched his room—I went into the yard; I was not present when Blight found the tools—he showed me the two jemmies and the bow—I showed them to Mrs. Cantle, and said, "Do you know anything of these?" she said, "No"—I asked her if she saw anything on the window ledge or the dusthole the night previous—she said, "No; were they found on the dustbin?"—I said, "Yes, but I did not find them"—the dustbin is four or five feet from the window-ledge—I first saw the articles in Blight's hand.
CHARLES MATHER (Detective G). At 10 o'clock on the 3rd I was with the officers outside the Camden Arms—I saw Weston and McLaren inside, and I saw them leave—I and Robinson followed them through St. John's Passage, Albemarle Street, Great Sutton Street, info
Allen Street—there I lost sight of them—we returned and kept observation on the beerhouse—about half an hour later I saw Weston and McLaren return and enter the house—shortly before twelve I saw the three prisoners come out—we followed them through the same streets to No. 5, Bury Street—we kept observation there—in about an hour's time the three prisoners came out and went towards Allen Street, followed by Robinson—I kept behind, keeping Robinson in sight—about ten minutes afterwards Wolstenholme reappeared, went into No. 5, and came out again—I went to the corner of Allen Street, and then I saw Wolstenholme in company of Blight and Robinson—immediately afterwards I saw the two other prisoners running along Allen Street from the direction of Goswell Road and the warehouse, towards Bury Street (Allen Street runs from Goswell Road to Bury Street)—they were running a few yards apart in the same direction, followed by Sewell, who shouted "Stop thief!"—I took up the chase, and saw Weston throw away some thing, which I afterwards found was this key—I continued the chase, and did not stop then to pick it up—McLaren ran into 5, Bury Street—I continued after Sewell and Weston—when I got close up to him in Great Sutton Street, near the Sun public-house, I saw Sewell knock Weston down with his walking-stick—I came up, and with the assistance of a uniform constable, took Weston to the police-station, where I searched, and found on him six skeleton keys and three picklocks in his left-hand trousers pocket, wrapped in this piece of rag—after searching him I went back to Allen Street and searched about, and on the spot where I heard something fall I found this key, which has a skeleton at each end—I gave the small key to Robinson, and with it he opened the bag in my presence—I afterwards gave this double skeleton key to Sewell, and he tried it in the counting-house office door—I was not there—I said to Weston, "These are a nice lot of tools"—he said, "I used them keys at my work"—he said nothing in answer to the charge.
Cross-examined by Weston. Robinson was there all the time; his face was black.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When we followed the men at half-past one from Bury Street, Robinson was nearer the men than I was; I was about thirty yards off, I suppose, or more—I saw Wolstenholme come back into Bury Street, and then come back with the bag a quarter of an hour later—I did not mention before the Magistrate about Wolstenholme returning.
Re-examined. I was the last witness examined—Robinson and Sewell were examined before me.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW , M. R. C. S. I am divisional surgeon of the G Division—I saw Arthur Sewell last night—he was not in bed, but he is suffering from erysipelas of the face and head, which are swollen—he has been suffering for about a week—erysipelas is contagious—in my opinion his condition is such as to render him too ill to travel—I gave him instructions not to go out.
ALFRED LEACH (Inspector G). I was present at the Clerkenwell Police-court on 5th April and 6th May—I saw Arthur Sewell called and sworn—the three prisoners were in the dock—I heard him give evidence which was written down, and read over to him—he said it was correct and signed it; this is his writing—the prisoners had an opportunity of cross-examining him, and they did cross-examine him.
The Deposition of Arthur Sewell (Police Sergeant G) was read as follows:— at ten o'clock on Thursday, the 3rd inst., I was with last witness and Blight in Bed Lion Street We saw there the three prisoners and a man named Chamberlain, who is employed at the premises of the prosecutors. Chamberlain went to the front of the prosecutors' premises, and watched there for some minutes, and then he rejoined the three prisoners at Bed Lion Street. The prisoner Weston then went and looked at the prosecutor's warehouse door. It was then about eleven o'clock, and I and Blight secreted ourselves outside prosecutor's warehouse door. At about one o'clock another man came and looked at the door, and went back, and at half-past ten o'clock the prisoners McLaren and Weston came on tiptoe, from the direction of Bury Street. Weston struck a match, and looked: for the keyhole of the warehouse door; he then took something from his pocket, apparently a key; but the door did not open, and then with something else he forced it open; McLaren' stood close behind him. Weston said to McLaren, "All right; tell them to bring them quick. "Weston stepped inside, and McLaren went a few yards away, and spoke to another man, and McLaren then returned to the warehouse, and went in and closed the door behind him; I went to the warehouse door, and Blight went past the building to communicate with Robinson. I then heard struggling in a street adjoining the building, and Weston and McLaren then opened the warehouse door and ran out, and ran away down Allen Street; Weston threw off his hat, and threw something down at my legs; I picked it up, and found that it was this jemmy; he also threw away the dark lantern. I pursued him through several short streets, and in Sutton Street I said, "Wiseman, if you don't stop I'll knock you down. "He did not stop, and I knocked him down, and Mather came to my assistance, and we secured him. I found this key at the spot where Weston fell, and I returned and picked up the lantern and the jemmy. I found marks on the warehouse door corresponding with the jemmy" lie-called on 6th May, Sewell added: "I went back and picked up Weston's hat, lantern, and jimmy, and Mather and a uniform constable took him to the police-station; at the station I showed Weston the articles I had picked up, and I said, "Here's your hat," and he took it; he denied any knowledge of the jemmy. I said? "That is what you forced the door with "; he said, "The door was never forced at all. "On the way to the cell Weston said, "I don't know the other two men," referring to the other two prisoners. I afterwards examined the premises, and found a key I received from Mather fitted an inside door of the office where the safe was. The door which was actually forced is a door under an archway leading to the warehouse yard. I produce a correct plan of the premises, which I have made to a scale of 1 inch to 8 feet; I also produce a plan I have made of the surrounding streets.
Cross-examined Weston threw off his hat when he first ran away; it did not come off when I knocked him down."
ADA HAUSMAN (Re-examined). This leather bag is my mother's, Mrs. Humphreys'—Wolstenholme asked her if she would lend him a bag, and she said, "Yes," and he said, "If I lose it I will pay you for it"—this is the bag she lent him—mother asked him for it afterwards, and he gave her two shillings.
By MR. PURCELL. This is the first time I have said this was my mother's bag, and that she lent it to Wolstenholme—I went up to
Sergeant Leach's office and told him about it after the prisoners were committed—Mr. Humphreys, my stepfather, was charged at the Police-court, and afterwards discharged—before his discharge I told Leach about the bag—while the case was still on hearing at the Police-court Leach knew what I could say—I was called at the Police-court, but I was: not there—the case was on several times at the Police-court.
By MR. BODKIN. My stepfather was charged with Williams with receiving a barometer, which was found at the Camden Arms; nothing to do with this case.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Weston said: " it look like a made-up affair," McLaren said:" I was not with Wolstenholme that night at all. "Wolstenholme said; "I know nothing about it. I picked up the bag coming through Compton Passage."
Weston, in his defence, said he had the keys and picklocks in his possession because he teas a locksmith by trade; that he was crossing Sutton Street when Sewell knocked him down, and that the key that opened the bag was borrowed by the sergeant of an inspector at the station.
McLaren said that he took beer home from the Camden Arms, and did not go outside again till the policeman fetched him; that he was not with the other prisoners at the warehouse, and that he knew nothing of any of the implements except two keys relating to his house.
GUILTY . Weston then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in June, 1888.[See case 449 for punishment]
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
JOHN SELBY MORPHEW . I am a salesman, of 47, Vesta Road, Brockley—on the 9th April I left my house at half-past 8 a.m. and returned at 7.45 the same evening, when I found the front door fastened on the inside—I heard a slight noise inside of footsteps upstairs; presently I saw Wood, and called-him to my assistance—he went to the back of the house; almost immediately I followed him, he was shouting after someone, and I saw two men getting over the garden fence at the back from my garden into the next one—I ran round to the front and saw the same two men come into the Vesta Road—they jumped over the fence, and ran down the garden as hard as they could; Wood and I ran after them, calling out "Stop thief!"—they turned round the Spools Road, and Wood went down the field at the back and headed them—I gave up the chase, and went back to see if there was a third man there—the prisoner is one of the men—I did not see his face, but I could swear to him from his figure—I believe him to be one of the men—I found in my bedroom the drawers were pulled out and things strewn about—my wife used to keep her jewellery in the drawers—while we were starting to look at the house the constable brought the prisoner back, and I said he was one of the men—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "No, you villain"—the house is Mr. Lepper's, I occupy the top part and live there.
Cross-examined by Prisoner, I first saw you six or eight yards from me in the back gardens—it was dusk—I did not see your face till you were brought back in custody.
MARIAN MORPHEW . I am the wife of John Selby Morphew—on 9th April I left home between two and half-past two, leaving the house unoccupied, and the front door on the latch, so that a latch-key would open it—at quarter to nine the same evening I returned, and on going into my bedroom I found the drawers all turned out, and the things strewn about—I missed, from the left-hand top drawer, jewellery to the value of about £10 or £11, including a gold brooch, a mosaic brooch, a silver monogram brooch, a pair of silver earrings, a pair of long gold earrings, a pair of jet earrings, a ring, a locket, and a chain.
JOHN CHABLES WOOD . I am a gardener, living at New Cross—about 7.40 p.m., on 9th April, I was passing down the Vesta Road, when Mr. Morphew, who was standing at his door, called to-me—in consequence of what he said I went round by a turning to the back of his garden, when I saw two men coming out of the back door, running as far as they could towards the wall I was underneath—I bobbed down—there was glass cemented into the top of the wall—the men put their arms over to make a jump, and I caught hold of one of their arms in each of my hands—one had a piece of iron, very sharp, and bent at one end like a small jemmy, and he was going to hit me on the head with it, and he said, "You will drop if you don't let me go"—he dropped back and got away—the prisoner, who was the other man, rubbed my hands along on the glass and I had to loose him, and he dropped back, ran away, and got over some other gardens—when they had got over the side entrance I heard Mr. Morphew sing out, Stop thief!" and blow a whistle, and call "Police!" and I thought by the direction I could hear them running in that they would get round the corner, and I ran to the corner of the Spools Road and met the prisoner face to face; he darted across the road and I followed him—I had seen his face before, when he was coming over the wall—I chased him about 500 yards, I should think; I overtook and collared him—I told him that he was wanted back at a gentleman's house; I did not know the number nor the gentleman's name—he tried to get away, and kept asking me to let him go—I said he would have to come towards Brockley Police-station—he went about twenty yards and tried to get away, and begged of me to let him go—I said I would as soon as I met a policeman—I sent a little boy for a policeman, to whom I handed the prisoner—I have not been well for the last four years.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I was hiding under the wall, you caught hold of my wrists and rubbed my knuckles along; you cut my hands, they were not bandaged, I showed them to the police—I mentioned it at the Police-court—I don't know if you cut yourself—the two men jumped over walls into gardens—they were out of sight for about a minute; there are twenty or thirty houses in the street—when I saw you again, you were running quite fast, and met me—you had to go with me to meet the policeman; you did not want to go, and tried to get away.
He-examined. While the prisoner rubbed my hands on the glass I had a good opportunity of seeing his face.
WALTER KNIGHT (Policeman P 199). About 8 o'clock p.m., on 9th April, I was called by a boy, and found the prisoner being held by Wood in the Enwell Road, five hundred yards or more from Vesta Road—both appeared very much exhausted and unable to speak—after a few minutes Wood said, "I have chased this man for five hundred yards over Vesta Road"—the prisoner made no remark—I took the prisoner back to 47,
Vesta Road, where Mr. Morphew lives—Wood came with me—MR. Morphew said, in the prisoner's hearing, that he believed him to be one of the men, by his back—the prisoner made no reply—I took him to the station and searched him—I found on him a box of silent matches, a pocket-knife, a door-key and a pocket-handkerchief.
ARTHUR HARRIS (Detective P). I went on this evening to inspect 47, Vesta Road—I found the front door had been forced by a jemmy, apparently—I found footsteps leading from the back door along the back garden to the garden door at the back, and over the wall that divided that from the back garden and out of the front gate into Vesta Road—I found an umbrella.
The prisoner, in his defence, asserted his innocence, and commented upon the fact that Wood had lost sight of the men.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in April, 1885.
The COURT highly commended the conduct of Wood, and awarded him £2.[See case 449 for punishment]
MR. AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended Porter,
GEORGE BEST . I live at 46, Loudon Eoad, Herne Hill, and am relief station-master at Penge Railway Station—on 1st April I went out about 3 p.m., leaving the landlady, Mrs. Mills, in—I returned about a quarter to ten, and found my bedroom in confusion, and the things strewn about, and everything of value taken—I missed about £50 worth of property, among it this Gladstone bag, these four pairs of trousers, and this malacca cane, which had a silver band and top when I lost it.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I put the value of these things produced at about £7.
Re-examined. The trousers are in pretty good condition; they have been worn once or twice—the bag is tolerably new.
EMILY MILLS . I am the landlady at 46, Loudon Road, Herne Hill, and wife of Henry Mills, a sorter in the Post Office—Mr. Best lodged with us—on 1st April I left the house at 4.45 p.m., leaving no one there—the front door was on the latch, and could be opened with a latch-key—when I returned at a quarter-past eight I pushed the door, but found it was not fastened, and I looked and found the lock had been forced off—there was on the door a very small mark such as a chisel or something of that sort would make—I found my bedroom had been visited, and I missed thirty pounds worth of articles and £10 in money—among the missing things was this black silk dress, value £3 1s.
MARIA HUMPHREY . I am the wife of Henry Humphrey, who, on 1st April, was keeping the Camden Arms beer-house—he does not keep it now—that day was a Monday, I believe—I know Porter by seeing him once or twice—Wolstenholme is my relative; he took the beer-house as manager and master; my husband took the licence—on 1st April Wolstenholme was in front, being served over the bar as a customer—before that he had been barman and manager, and he used to take the whole possession of the place (my husband was never in it), but on 1st April he had no position there—Walker was called Highgate—I first saw this Gladstone bag on Tuesday night, I believe, in Good Friday week—my husband
brought it up to the room—Wolstenholme, who is my brother, had said to him, "Will you take care of that bag, Harry? I have put it on the landing," and he put it up by the side of the drawers in my bedroom—Wolstenholme said, "Mind it for those two gentlemen," meaning Highgate and a fair man who is not in Court—when he said that Walker and a fair man were downstairs in the bar—it was put into my room that night by the side of the drawers—I lifted it up and put it inside, so that we could move it—it seemed as though something was in it—when I went down again after putting the bag in the room, I saw Walker and Wolstenholme and the fair chap whose name I never heard, and Fishy Jim and some more—next morning Highgate came to my place, and asked for the bag, and I gave it to him—he opened it, and asked me if I would buy this silk dress top—after a great proceeding I did for 12s. 6d.—afterwards I sent it to the pawnbroker's, as I had not sufficient money to purchase it—I handed the ticket to Leach—when Walker sold me the dress he told me it was his wife's; I understood him his wife had deserted him—Walker asked me to buy the bag—I said, "No, I did not want such a thing; it would be no use to me"—he opened it and showed me four pairs of trousers in it, and asked me to buy the trousers—I said, "No"—he said I could buy one pair—. I said I did not want them—I said, "No, "I would have nothing to do with it; I had not got the money—the bag was put down by the side of the table in my back parlour—that was on the Wednesday—on that day about one o'clock Porter came with Highgate, and the fair man—they looked at the bag, and said, "Don't give it to anyone else but that man," meaning Porter—it was left there, and they went away—Porter came again in the evening with a little boy or two—he came to the side, and asked for the bag, and said, "Would you mind wrapping it up?"—I said, "You can wrap it up"—before doing so he opened it—I said, "I should like a pair of those trousers Walker asked me to buy. Can I have a pair of them?"—he said, "Oh, yes," and opened the bag, and I selected this pair of trousers; I believe I gave him 5s. for them—I took some of the buttons off—I was going to have them altered for my son—the bag was wrapped up in brown paper and string, and a boy took it away—I could not swear to the boy—Porter stayed and treated my brother, Wolstenholme, Fishy Jim, and several others.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I had never seen Porter before the Wednesday—he and Walker went into the bar parlour—I was not there, I just opened the door and let them in, and went out again—Stacey was not in the bar parlour when they were having this deal, she went upstairs with the children—I just looked into the bar parlour again before Porter left, and went out—the bag was opened then, Walker looked in and held the trousers up, and that was all I saw at that time—I was told by Walker not to part with the bag to anyone but Porter—I did not notice how the boy who came with Porter in the evening was dressed—I did not notice if his clothes were fishy—Porter did not open the bag—I asked if I might have a pair of the trousers, and I said Walker had offered to sell them for five shillings—he said, "You can have them for the same"—he did not say anything about what they cost him—the boy carried the bag away—I said before the Magistrate, "I understood Walker was offering the things to Porter for sale, and Porter bought them"—I heard Walker say the trousers were his own, and I thought they were—I did not think
there was anything wrong about this bag or these trousers, or I should not have had them in my house or have bought this pair—I had seen Walker before in front of the bar, and believed him to be an honest man, and the things to be honestly come by.
Cross-examined by Walker. I looked out of the bar parlour door, and saw you on Tuesday night—you came on Wednesday morning for the bag, and I got it from upstairs—I put it on the bar parlour table, and you came in and looked at it—you took out the silk dress and asked me to buy it—I said I had not the money, I had only the brewer's money—my daughter said she would like it—I said I would give you 10s.—you said, "I owe you half a crown, but I cannot pay you; if I let you have it for 10s. we will cry quits"—that was giving 12s. 6d. for it—you let me have it and went away—it was just on one o'clock when you came back with Porter—you sold the dress a little after eleven. By MR. BURNIE. I don't remember Porter asking me if I knew Walker, or saying he had to go to the Fish Market at one o'clock—I never knew he kept a fish-shop.
Re-examined. I know now 4, St. John's Street Road, Clerkenwell—it would take me ten minutes to walk there from the Camden Arms—I did not know it before this case as a fish-shop—my daughter gave me to understand who Porter was, I never saw him before.
EMILY MARGARET STACEY . I am the wife of James Stacey, who was potman at the Camden Arms—on Wednesday, 2nd April, I saw Walker there in the middle of the day—I saw him come again to the house about dinner, or after dinner-time, with Porter—I did not know him before—they went into the parlour—Mrs. Humphrey and her daughter were there—this bag was underneath the parlour table—I took it out and placed it back myself, when I swept under the table—later the same day I saw this silk dress—Mrs. Humphrey gave it to me to pawn, and I pawned it for 10s. at W. Phillips, 141, St. John's Street, Clerkenwell—I gave the ticket to Mrs. Humphrey.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I saw Walker at the beer-house between twelve and one alone, and about one or a little after with Porter.
Re-examined. Walker remained for about ten minutes in the parlour, and then went away; he was just chaffing over the bar with Mrs. Humphrey and her daughter.
CHARLES HAUSMAN . I am Mr. Humphrey's stepson—on 2nd April I was living at the Camden Arms—about twenty minutes past 7 on that day, when I had done work, I went upstairs to the bagatelle-room, where I saw Porter—I did not know him before—my mother was going upstairs at the time—a little boy was in the room—I said to Porter, "Who is there?"—he said, "No one"—he was looking over the things inside this Gladstone bag—he said, "Have you got a bit of brown paper?"—I said, "No"—the little boy said, "I have got a bit"—the little boy gave him a bit of string, and he wrapped the bag up in paper with string, and sent the little boy downstairs with the bag on his shoulder, and said, "I will come on."
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I. knew Walker before by his being a customer—I did not know if he bought things at sales; I don't know what he was—he was respectably dressed—I took him to be a respectable man—I did not know Porter as a customer—I did not notice the little
boy's clothes, except that he had knickerbockers—I did not notice if he was fishy, or had an apron on.
ALFRED LEACH (Police Inspector G). I had information of this robbery, and in consequence of what I heard I went at seven a.m., on 4th April, (rood Friday, to the Camden Arms—I there received from Mrs. Humphrey a pair of brown trousers and this pawn-ticket, which I afterwards found related to this dress—I took Mr. Humphrey into custody on a charge of receiving, this property—a little after one on the same day I went with Sewell to Porter's fish-shop, at 4, St. John's Street Road, Clerkenwell—Porter was talking to a man outside—the last witness was with me, and identified him—I said to Porter, "Can I speak to you, Mr. Porter?"—he came into the fish-shop—I said, "I am an Inspector of Police, and I have just arrested a man for receiving stolen property, and the man's wife at the Camden Arms says she purchased a pair of trousers of you for five shillings on Wednesday last; those trousers with other articles were stolen at Camberwell A woman says you bought a Gladstone bag and some other trousers from some man in her house; your son carried them away; is that true?"—Porter said, "I have not bought anything, it is a mistake"—I said, "I must search your house," and as Sergeant Sewell and I were about to go upstairs, Porter said, "It is no use, I have got them upstairs, they were left with me"—I said, "By whom?"—he said, "By a man, I know him"—on going into the room on the first floor I found the Gladstone bag (produced) and this pair of check trousers—in the kitchen I took possession of these two other pairs of trousers which were hanging on a clothes line, and this walking-stick from the corner of the room—Porter said, "The cane was also left with me; it is very unfortunate"—I told him he would be charged; he made no reply—when charged at Old Street Police-station he said, "I can prove I bought the things from two men at the beer-shop"—I also at Porter's place took possession of six new paint brushes, some pawn-tickets, and two pairs of new drawers and an undershirt which a little girl had brought into the shop—the pawn-tickets relate to books.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I made this note of the conversation at Old Street station fifteen minutes afterwards, directly I got to the station—I was ten minutes to quarter of an hour in the house—I could walk to the station in five minutes from the house—Porter was anxious to get out of sight, and we walked it in five minutes—I remembered perfectly well what he said, and put" it down—Sewell was there at the time the statements were made—Sewell is ill; he was not called at the Police-court—I searched the whole house, which has five rooms—when I was within two steps of going into the room Porter said, "I have got them upstairs"—the bag was open, and one pair of trousers over the back of a chair, and another pair hanging over the clothes-line in the kitchen—after the first fencing he gave us every facility—he saw a doctor at the station, I believe—he was very excited when he paw me. By the JURY. We found eight pawn-tickets at the house.
Re-examined. It was the middle of the day that we went to his house—there is a constable on fixed point duty outside Porter's house.
returned, and went upstairs, I found my bedroom in disorder; the things had been turned out, bed-clothes and mattress were on the floor—all my jewellery and a quantity of plate were gone—these spoons and forks, and this case with knife, fork, and spoon, and this silver Geneva watch were among the things stolen.
ALFRED LEACH (Re-examined). This watch was found in the possession of McLaren, who was convicted yesterday—Wolstenholme's niece proved she gave him that watch to be repaired—Mrs. Humphrey handed me a pawnticket for some of these articles and other things she handed to me at the Camden Arms.
MARIA HUMPHREY (He-examined). Wolstenholme asked me to buy this case, with knife, fork, and spoon, at the end of January—I believe two men at the bar gave them to him to sell, but I should not know the men—they were laid openly on the counter by the men, who said they wanted to sell them—all the customers in the bar could see them—I did not know any of the customers till my brother took the place—they were all well dressed—when the Inspector came these spoons and forks were on our second floor, in my bed-room—my brother asked me to buy them, and I did so; I paid no money; he paid money to the other two men for them—I gave the pawn-ticket for the knife, fork, and spoon to the Inspector—my son pawned them; I laid them on the bar-parlour table, and he pawned them because I would not give him any money to spend.
By Wolstenholme. On the 1st April you were at my place all day repairing the engine.
By MR. AVORY. He was repairing the engine about four, and was there till five or six—after that he was there, I gave him a cup of tea over the bar—he was in the house up to the time of Walker's coming.
Wolstenholmes statement before the Magistrate: "I was in the Camden Arms on the day of the robbery repairing the engine, and I know nothing about it,"
GUILTY of Receiving. [See case 449 for punishment]
MR. AVORY Prosecuted.
FRANK IDMANS . I am a working optician, of 12, Benjamin Street, Clerkenwell—I occupy a shop and basement there—about quarter to nine on the night of the 24th March I left my premises safely closed—when I arrived there at about a quarter to nine next morning I found a window at the back of the shop had been forced open, and I missed this barometer, which had been safe in the shop when I left—I had it from a customer to repair; it would cost about 30s.
JAMES STACEY . I was potman at the Camden Arms in March—I knew the prisoner as Fishy Jim—he used the house—I saw the prisoner carrying this barometer upstairs on 26th March—I did not see him come into the house with it, I was out, and when I came in I saw him with it—he took it into the club-room on the first floor—Humphrey was there—the prisoner asked him to buy it—Humphrey said he had no use for it—the prisoner said, "Oh, do buy it, because I want the money for some food"—Humphrey said, "No, it is no use to me at all. Where did
you get it from?"—the prisoner said it was his father's—Humphrey gave him 2s. for it, and hung it up in the club-room—it was there about ten months, I should think—Humphrey told him he could have it back at any time for the 2s.—after that Humphrey hung it up in his bedroom—the prisoner asked if he could have a bit of bread and cheese, and he had that and the 2s.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not remember a man offering a photographic album for sale for 5s. in the Camden Arms on the 9th March—I never saw one in the house.
EMILY MARGARET STACEY . I am the last witness's wife—on 26th March I saw the prisoner come into the house, and then into the middle bar with this barometer in his hand—he left the bar and went up into the club-room and returned without the barometer.
Cross-examined. I did not see you with anything else—you have answered to the name of Fishy Jim in the bar in my presence—I do not know you by any other name—I don't know who told me that was your name.
CHARLES MATHER (Police Constable G). At a quarter-past one on Good Friday, 4th April, I arrested the prisoner at the Camden Arms—I told him I was a police officer; that he would be charged with being concerned with Humphrey in breaking into No. 12, Benjamin Street on 24th March and stealing a barometer; he replied, "I know nothing about a barometer"—Mrs. Stacey said, "Yes, you do, you brought it here, and sold it to Mr. Humphrey for 2s."—he said, "I did not,"
ALFRED LEACH (Police Inspector G). At seven a.m. on Good Friday I went to the Camden Arms, looked over it, and spoke to Humphrey—I found this barometer hanging on the wall in the bedroom—after Humphrey had made a statement about it I took him into custody—on the following morning I said to the prisoner that I had arrested Humphrey on a charge of breaking and entering the premises of Mr. Idmans, and stealing and receiving this barometer, and that Humphrey had said, "It was brought to me by a man known to me as Fishy Jim, who works somewhere in Clerkenwell; he brought it to me about a week ago, and asked me to buy it. I said, 'It is no use to me. 'Fishy Jim then went away. Fishy Jim returned again in the afternoon, and asked two shillings and sixpence for it; I gave him two shillings for it, as he said he wanted something to eat"—the prisoner said, "I know nothing about it"—Humphrey was charged before the Magistrate with the prisoner, and was discharged.
The Prisoner, in a written defence, stated that he never had the barometer in his possession, and did not sell it to Humphrey; but that Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey had been in the habit of buying stolen property from anyone who brought it to the house, and that to clear themselves Mr. Humphrey said he had bought it of the prisoner.
GUILTY of Receiving.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in December, 1881— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
A witness was called as to Porter's good character.
PORTER* and WESTON**— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
WALKER**— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
McLAREN†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
WOLSTENHOLME— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT and JURY commended the conduct of the Police in these cases.
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, May 23rd and 24th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted; and MR. PAUL
TAYLOR Defended Slamervitch.
AMELIA HAYMANN (Interpreted). I now live at 22, "Warwick Road, Maida Vale—I am a native of Poland, living at Lodz, where I was in service as cook—I made Slamervitch's acquaintance nearly two years ago at Lodz—I afterwards became engaged to be married to him, in consequence of which, and in accordance with the Jewish religion, a marriage contract was drawn up—the woman keeps the contract—Slamervitch left Lodz last year, about June—I had saved 300 roubles—before he left he asked me for the money, and he first took 126 roubles, and afterwards the remainder of the money—he said he wanted it for the marriage fees, and for his examination—I asked him, "As what?" and he said, "As a barber"—he left "Warsaw and came to London—I received from "Warsaw this letter of 16th July, 1889 (asking for an answer to Slamervitch's last letter), and this post-card of July 8th (acknowledging an "amount" sent him by post for his examination), and three letters from London—my sister had two, and Slamervitch tore up one—I received this letter from "Warsaw, of 30th June (Asking for 25 roubles, stating his examination would cost 50 roubles; his friends had sent him nothing, and he would be ruined without money)—I sent him 25 roubles—after I came to England, Slamervitch took this letter from my little bag, and destroyed it—it said he was not happy in London, and "come over, and I will marry you"—I came over in the s. s. Gemma, with Miss Mineyer, on 25th January—I brought a letter of introduction to Balberski, and a banker's draft for £15 from Hamburg—I went to a barber called Leftkovitch, 9, Cotton Street, "Whitechapel—I stayed there a fortnight—I saw Balberski eight or twelve days after my arrival—he asked me whether I had any money—I said, "No, no money; I have got a draft"—he asked if I had Slamervitch's address; "Yes, "I said—he took it, and immediately left—a few hours afterwards he returned, and said he had seen Slamervitch, and spoken to him, and he would come in the evening—Slamervitch called in the evening—the whole conversation turned upon marriage and money—it was in Balberski's barber's shop—I do not know the number—Slamervitch went back with me to Leftkovitch's—he constantly spoke about money—he said, "Give me the money first, and I will marry you"—at Balberski's request I showed him the money—Slamervitch saw it—that was on the second or third visit—both spoke about a bank—Balberski first—he said, "I will go with you to the bank, do not give it to Slamervitch, he only wants to take it from you"—Slamervitch said the same thing to me of Balberski
—the mutual distrust was not mentioned in the other's presence—on 4th February I went with Balberski and cashed my draft at a bank in the City; I do not know the name—I got three £5 notes—I was asked to sign something, and I made three crosses—we left—Balberski took the money from me, and went to his lodgings—he changed one of the notes—he gave £1—the same evening I went with Balberski to a loan office in Cranfield Street—he told me it was a post-office—I had heard of Post Office Savings Bank while on board ship, and Balberski had told me—he handed me the money—then we went in, and I put the money on the counter, and begged him to say it belonged to me, and to put it in the name of Amelia Haymann; he spoke in English—I did not understand—something was written, I do not know what—Balberski received the book—he gave it to me; I said, "How is it I was not asked to put my cross to this paper?"—he said "Oh, that's all right, you do not want it"—I kept the book in this small bag—we went to Balberski's shop—I saw Slamervitch in the evening—he was shown the book—Balberski asked me—Slamervitch looked in it—he laughed—I asked him what he was laughing for, he said, "It is all right, quite right, everything is all right"—Slamervitch told me to leave Leftkovitch's, because I slept in the same room as Mr. and Mrs. Leftkovitch—he begged my pardon for his former conduct in Poland; he would not do it any more, meaning the 126 roubles he had from me—he proposed I should come and live with him, which I declined—he said, "London is a free city, anybody can do whatever they please"—Slamervitch and Mrs. Leftkovitch assisted me to move—I then went to live in Cranfield Street—I never slept in Balberski's house, but I took my meals there—I paid my rent and a few shillings to Mrs. Balberski at different times, about £1 altogether, which would about pay for my food—I had other money than the £1 he gave me—on 8th February, having had the book four days, Balberski asked me for it; I refused, but he was so urgent in his entreaties, saying he would act as a father to me, and he would have it, and so pressed me that I gave it him—I have not seen it again—I told Slamervitch, and he said, "Don't be afraid, he is a very respectable man, he will return it to you"—that was the same day—I asked for it several times—he said, "There is no book, there is no money"—I began crying, and begged and entreated him, as I was a foreigner and a helpless girl, to have mercy with me and return me the book—on 9th February I was very sad, Slamervitch said, "Undoubtedly if you are so dull," or "so sad, I will cut your hair off and send you away"—then he spoke more kindly, and said he would marry—I said, "Before marrying, you must go to Dr. Adler"—he said, "No, I shall have a very quiet wedding"—on 10th February I went to the theatre with Mrs. Balberski; we came back to Balberski's—Slamervitch and Balberski went into a room and talked—I asked Slamervitch what it was about, and they said it was about marriage, "As to you, it will be all well for you"—a few days afterwards I asked Slamervitch why he went inside Balberski's house, he said, "About your money"—he said Balberski had consented to pay me one shilling a month; I could not force him to pay more or do anything; asked me to accept it, and I refused—I reproached Slamervitch for taking my money in England, being engaged to me—he said, "If you say that I, your affianced, have taken your money I shall kill
you wherever I see you"—I said, "You are the cause of my coming over here; you made me come over, have pity upon me; the least you can do is to go to Balberski and persuade him to return me the £14"—he asked me to meet him at night at Cranfield Street—I met him, and we went to Balberski's—I began begging for my £14, he showed me three looking-glasses, and said, "These looking-glasses are for the £14"—he said, "If you will not take the looking-glasses, and they remain in this place, you will have to pay £1 for the accommodation tomorrow morning"—I said, "I will not have the looking-glasses," and "I shall commence screaming, then people may come and see what is going on"—Slamervitch said, "If you do that I will put my hand upon your mouth and prevent your doing so"—he went in to Balberski again, and I went home—he said, "Do not go to-morrow to Balberski's, I will come with some police officers," but they did not come—after waiting, and he did not come, I went into Balberski's and asked him again to return the £14; he took hold of my hand and turned me out—I went back to my room—some people hearing of my loss, I was taken to Mrs. Jones, who has something to do with Lady Rothschild's place, where I remained for a time—I was turned out on 27th February, and had to run about for three days without food—I went to Slamervitch and asked him for a few shillings—he gave me 4s.—I asked him another time for a shilling, and he refused, saying he preferred to give a shilling to a poor beggar man, as I had refused to give my money to him—a good deal of conversation passed—I cannot recollect—I never had anything out of my £15 but the sovereign—I never went again to the loan office—I never gave Slamervitch permission to draw out my money, particularly as I did not know he put it in his own name, I thought it was my name.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I had a letter of introduction to Balberski from his uncle in Lodz—I knew Mrs. Leftkovitch in Lodz—she wrote to me, and I authorised a schoolmaster or somebody to write an answer—I cannot read—I do not know if the letters produced are by my instructions—these are not letters I had sent, my name was in the corner of the letter I had sent, the contents of which I could repeat. (Letter read of 28th December, inquiring for lodgings in London)—that is all false, I do not know anything about it; it says my address was Rosenberg, not Lodz—I wrote a few lines to Mrs. Leftkovitch before coming to London—I did not name my approaching marriage, only asked if she could accommodate me for a little time with lodgings—I told my solicitor, Mr. Ratcliffe, that Slamervitch asked me to come to London—he wrote it down—I saw Balberski more than two days after my arrival—Slamervitch was not present—he advised me not to mention my money—I did not see him first at his employer's, but at Balberski's house—I did not go to him, I knew pretty well he would call upon me—I never went with two women to Poplar—I went to Marks' shop three times—Slamervitch never asked me what I had come to London for—I did not say, "Do not be afraid, I did not come to you, you are a fine fellow never to write to me"—no such conversation took place in Mrs. Leftkovitch's presence, and she never went with me to Marks' place—Slamervitch was not present when Balberski took the book, but he came a few hours afterwards on the spot—I did not go to Poplar the day the book was taken—I went three times after the book was taken—I called Slamervitch outside Balberski's, and told
him the book had been taken—I said that before the Magistrate—I paid the book had been taken away from me at Balberski's house, not at Poplar—the last time I went to Poplar Slamervitch went into a room, and his master, Mr. Marks, joined him, then I was called in and told how stupid I was to part with my money in that way—on that occasion I said to Slamervitch, "You have seen that my name was not in there, it was another name, you ought to have called my attention to it," and "if I take proceedings against the other one you certainly must be a witness"—he said, "Well, if I am a witness I will be, if I am not I won't be"—Marks did not say Slamervitch could go, but would have to lose his time—he did not ask what sums of money I had been cheated of—I never told Marks Balberski had bought some hairdresser's fittings for a business, nothing was said about it—Marks only said, "Why did not you bring the money to me to keep?"—I said "I did not like to go to a stranger, exactly"—he said, "Why did I turn you out of my shop to-day? No!"—that is Mr. Marks—I did not ask Marks to buy fittings, nor he decline; nor did I ever entertain the idea of being a partner in a barber's shop—I never made a proposal to enter into partnership with anybody—Slamervitch did not ask Balberski that day to give me back the money—nothing of the kind was said—I saw Slamervitch that afternoon at Poplar, and I said, "You are quite capable of going as a witness to swear falsely"—that was the last time I was at Mr. Marks'—I saw Slamervitch the same evening at Balberski's—he did not say anything about the money that night—I cannot swear Slamervitch had part of the money, but from his protestations, and saying that Balberski was respectable, very likely he must have—I cannot say what Balberski spent on barber's fittings—I am not a barber—seeing the looking-glasses brought into the place, I said, "What are these looking-glasses for?" and he said he was going to move, and to establish a barber's shop—he never told me he had spent my money in buying fittings—if he had ever told me he was going to spend my money for his own purposes I would never have consented—he said nothing but "There is no book; there is no money"—I never heard of Slamervitch threatening to do Balberski violence if he did not return the money—I cannot say if I saw a Mr. Maxshire—I never told any man that Slamervitch had been badly treated by Balberski and thrown out of his shop because he demanded her money—about a fortnight after my money had been taken from me, Slamervitch said, "The money is gone, and I won't know you"—I first spoke to the solicitor before Easter, when Slamervitch was in prison—I saw Slamervitch in London, and more than five times—I said, in mistake, I had not seen Slamervitch for twelve days, and corrected it.
Re-examined. The last time I saw Mr. Marks at Poplar was about four or five weeks after the money was obtained, because I was at Lady Rothschild's Home—my things were taken away from me, except some articles which had been stolen while I was at Mrs. Leftkovitch's—I have not seen these papers. (Two handbills with addresses of Balberski's hair-cutting business, in which no partner was mentioned)—I went to the Police-station, not to get my things, but to give information about the robbery at Leftkovitch's—this is the Hamburg draft.
26th January; the prosecutrix travelled with me—I left her when I came ashore at the clocks.
ROBERT CHURCHYARD STEED . I am a clerk at the Joint Stock Bank, Princes Street—I produce a draft on Hamburg, payable to Amelia Haymann, who produced it at our bank—a man whom I do not recognise was with her—three £5 notes were paid to her, and she signed the bill on the back with three crosses, which is witnessed by Calca Balberski on February 4th.
Cross-examined by Balberski. As she could not write we sent her and the man with her to see the acceptor; he said he had no means of recognising whether she was the owner of the bill, and I said we must have her cross witnessed—you were her interpreter.
HENRY BOWMAN . I live at 16, Morgan Street, Commercial Road—I am a director of the Imperial Deposit and Loan Company, Greenfield Street—on 4th February Balberski came there with the prosecutrix and said that he wanted to pay his money in—I said, "What amount?"—he said, "£14"—Miss Haymann took the money out of her little bag and put it on the table—I asked Balberski in Hebrew in what name the money was to be placed; he said something to the girl, and then said to me in English, "In my name"—I knew the girl could not speak English—I took the money, prepared a book, and wrote in it the name of Balberski, handed it to him, and they went away—on February 10th Balberski came again and said he wanted to draw £6—this is the notice of withdrawal; he signed it and I paid him the £6—another party paid him £4 on the 18th in my presence—this is the notice of withdrawal, it bears the same signature as the other.
Cross-examined by Balberski. The girl was with you on the second occasion when you drew the money; I positively swear that—you came by yourself on the last occasion.
Re-examined. I did not know Balberski at all—I said at the Police-court, "Cumner called on me; I told him I knew both were together the first time," and the second time, too—I never told Cumner I did not know whether she was there on the second occasion; I could not, because it would be untrue, and I had no interest in the affair.
WOLFF ZILLING . I am one of the directors of this company—on 11th February I was in the office, and paid £4 to Balberski on a withdrawal note signed by him—all the money deposited in his name has been drawn out.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I believe the prosecutrix was present on the second occasion when the £4 was withdrawn—I was there when the £6 was withdrawn; she was with him then, and also when the money was deposited—I am positive she was there on the first occasion of withdrawing.
Re-examined. Cumner came to me; I did not say to him that I was perfectly positive she was not there on 11th February—I did not give anything for Balberski's wife and children, or for his defence.
By MR. TAYLOR. I was not asked at the Police-court whether I had made a contradictory statement to Cumner.
WILLIAM LEVISHON . I am a dealer in hairdressers' tools, at 2, Grove Villas, Stamford Hill—ten or twelve days before Christmas I was in a hairdresser's shop, and the master asked me whether I could get Slamervitch a situation—I declined because he is a bad character—he said, "Oblige me
by getting him a situation; I want to get rid of him from my shop"—they persuaded me to find him a place, and I went to Old Compton Street to Jeminski's and engaged him, and when I went home Slamervitch asked me to have a glass, and while we had it he said, "Cannot you introduce me to a young lady for to take 100 roubles and go back to Poland, why do you say so?"—I said, "Because you robbed a woman in Poland, and came over here"—he said, "How do you know?"—I said, "I know"—he said, "I am in a free country, she is only a b—h"—I said, "You are a wicked man"—he said, "Don't put yourself out, I shan't be long, I shall have a young lady over from Poland, and shall get 600 roubles and buy a shop"—I said "She will be a fool to come over after she was robbed"—he said, "She will not come over at my request, she will come at somebody else's,"
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I have no place of business at Grove Villas—I lodge there—I am married—I have got hairdressers' tools at home—I hawk them about—I first saw Mr. Young, the solicitor, on a Wednesday, a week before Christmas, in Oxford Street—I know Kancrovitch, a hairdresser, in Bethnal Green Road—Slamervitch was in his employ eight months ago—I did not go there one day when Slamervitch Was there, and ask him if he wished to get a better place than he had, nor did I tell Kancrovitch that I had made the offer, nor did he throw me out of the shop—it is untrue—he said, "You spoke to my man, and wanted to find him a place"—he said, "Whatever you do, don't come to my place"—I said, "Mr. Kancrovitch, I have known you twenty years, and never wished to come into your place"—I did not want to go in because he is too low—I sold him razors, but I should not make acquaintance with him because I am more honest—I have never been on friendly terms with Mr. Kancrovitch—the conversation I had with Slamervitch was started by him, he thought I was an agent for young ladies—I was never asked to find a young lady by anyone else—he mentioned a young lady from Silverthorne's—I was not asked that at the Police-court cr at the solicitor's—I have been paid £5 for my cab fares, nothing else—I made use of the cabs—the girl had not a penny, and I had to lay out the money for her—Mr. Ratcliffe paid me 35s.—he only paid me when I was ill—I have received nothing for my loss of time.
Re-examined. I was the first person who went to the police—the girl is my friend; I went to the Jewish Ladies' Society, and they found a solicitor.
MORRIS ISENBERGH (Interpreted). I am a carpenter, of 20, Fieldgate Street—I saw Balberski at his shop one day this year—he showed me this draft, and said the girl from Poland had arrived and had given it to him, and he was going to marry her—a day or two afterwards he showed me a small travelling bag; he could not unlock it; he told me he had some money in it—I once saw Slamervitch with Balberski in the street—I have seen the prosecutrix at Balberski's shop.
Cross-examined by Balberski. I last saw the girl in your house on Saturday, and she left Greenfield Street the next day—every time I went to your place I saw her there—she never said anything to me about a partnership with you—I have seen you buy furniture; two chairs, two looking-glasses, a wash-hand stand, and a paraffin lamp—I went with you to look for a shop in Greenfield Street; I was to make the fittings
—I cannot say whether the girl went there with you, but she was there.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I met her several times, but when I entered into conversation she declined to speak to me—she did not say that Balberski had ill-treated Slamervitch for taking her part—she mentioned Slamervitch's name to me.
LOUIS MORRIS . I am a tinplate worker—I know Balberski—I used to speak to him in English—I was in his shop one day being shaved, when Slamervitch came—he spoke Yiddish, which I understand—he said, "What have you done with the girl? Have you got the money from the girl?"—he said, "Yes; I have got the money; she wants me to put it in the Post Office, and I put it in the bank, that I could draw it out in a day or two"—Balberski said, "Mind, I want the half of it"—Slamervitch said, "What are you going to do with that girl?"—Balberski said, "I am waiting for an answer;" and then he said, "I am going to send her away"—Slamervitch said, "Bravo, broder, bravo!"—"broder" is "brother"—that was ten or eleven weeks before 30th April.
Cross-examined by Balberski. I have been your customer for six or seven months, but if you were busy I went somewhere else—a little boy was in the shop at the time, and he told you to send the boy out of the place it was between 5 and 6 p.m. when I was getting shaved.
STEPHEN WHITE (Police Sergeant H). I received information early in March from the prosecutrix, and on 29th March an information was sworn before Mr. Lushington, and I received a warrant to arrest Balberski, which I did the same day at 29, Fieldgate Street—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Being concerned with who?"—I said, "With Slamervitch"—he said, "I do not know Slamervitch."
THOMAS CUMNER (Detective H). I took Slamervitch on 29th March, at 149, Upper North Street, and read the warrant to him—he said, "I did not do it; Balberski did the swindle"—I took him to the station—I was one of the deponents to the information of 29th March, in which I mentioned the result of my inquiries at the loan office—I had seen Bowman and Zilling there.
Cross-examined by Balberski. You told me you had bought some looking-glasses with the money.
Witnesses for Slamervitch.
ADA LEFTKOVITCH (Interpreted). I live at 273, Brady Street, Whitechapel—I knew the prosecutrix at Lodz—I have been here five months, and a few weeks after I arrived in London she sent me these two letters from Poland (produced)—I cannot say who signed them, because I cannot write—she also sent me a post-card from Hamburg, but I do not know what has become of it—I saw her on the day she arrived in London—I fetched her, and took her to lodge with me—she said she had a letter from Balberski, and mentioned the name of Slamervitch—a few days afterwards she asked me to go with her to Poplar, and a girl went into a barber's shop where Slamervitch is employed, and fetched him out—he and the prosecutrix shook hands, and he said, "How is it you came to London?"—she said, "Don't be afraid, I did not come to see you," or "for you; you are a nice fellow, you have not even written me one letter"—he said, "I have no more time, I must go inside," and he went in.
Cross-examined. She said that Balberski had told her he would
search for Slamervitch, who was her sweetheart, and she wanted to see him, as she was engaged to him—Balberski's daughter went to Poplar with us, nobody else saw us—the prosecutrix stopped with me ten or twelve days—she slept in the same room as me and my husband—when she left she gave me a plant, a curtain, and a cushion cover—a countrywoman of mine lives in the next house—the prosecutrix came back with the police and charged me and my countrywoman with stealing her things—I was taken to the station, and paid her £2 compensation not to press the charge against me—I still swear that the things were given to me.
Re-examined. Slamervitch did not assist her in removing her things from my house to Greenfield Street—I do not know whether he was outside, I did not go out—she paid me nothing, I did not ask for anything.
By the JURY. When she unpacked her trunk she found several articles which my mother sent me from Poland, and she found other articles, and said, "Here, you may have that"—she did not give them to me in compensation for staying there; it was the first day she came.
ANNIE BALBERSKI . I am Balberski's daughter, and live at 26, Fieldgate Street, Whitechapel—I went with Mrs. Leftkovitch and the prosecutrix, I asked if Mr. Slamervitch worked there, and said, "Somebody wants you outside"—he was cutting a girl's hair—he came outside and said to her, "What made you come to England?"—she said, "Don't be afraid, I did not come for you; a nice man you are; you did not write me a letter since you left home"—he said, "I have a few customers inside, I must go in"; he went in, and we went home.
Cross-examined, We did not know Slamervitch before Haymann came over, my father got his address from Bethnal Green, but it was not right, and he went to a hairdresser's in Bethnal Green and got the address there, and told it to me, and we then took her to the shop—they spoke in Yiddish—I understand that language—I do not know that she had in her possession a letter written to her by Slamervitch before she left Poland—I was first spoken to about this visit on Thursday—I have not seen anything of Mrs. Leftkovitch since this case has been on—I have not spoken to her much here—I have not talked to her about my evidence—I did not see her between the time she was at the Police-court and the time I came here.
Re-examined. She did not give my father the right address; he went there and found he did not work there, and then she asked him to find out the right address.
Cross-examined by Balberski. On the Tuesday you had an order for the theatre, and the prosecutrix said to me, "I will go with your mother to the theatre"—she went home to dress herself, and came back with a bag, and took a book out and gave to you, and £4—in the morning she came in, and you put the £4 and the book on the table, and she took them back, and a little while after she went home, and she brought with her a piece of rag, and showed my mother how she was getting on with a button-hole; and after dinner my mother gave her a second half crown, making 5s.—next Sunday, about 11 o'clock, as she did not come down, my mother said, "Go up and see what is the matter"—I went up to her room and she sent me out to fetch something; she afterwards went out with me and said, "You go home by yourself, and I will go home afterwards"—
at 1 o'clock I went to her room, and the landlady said that three men moved her out—I said, "Where is she?"—she said, "I don't know"—I went home and told my father, and he wandered about to find her out—it was a hairdresser's shop; she was going to make partners with my father.
By the JURY. The conversation with my father about the partnership was in Yiddish—he had a shop, and was going to have another, and took the shop in Whitechapel; it was a second business.
By MR. MATHEWS. On the Tuesday that she went to the theatre she said to my father, "You can go and take out the last £4"—she went to the theatre that night with my mother—she had not been to the theatre the week before—my mother did not take her to the theatre on Monday February 10; she only went once—this (produced) is the bill announcing that my father had taken another business—my father said that when they had opened the shop that would be quite sufficient time to make the agreement—I was always at home—Slamervitch came there three or four times after the girl arrived—he never came in the daytime because he could not get away.
JOHN HERMANN . I am a hairdresser, of 218, Bethnal Green Road,—at the end of January Balberski called on me and asked me "Slamervitch's address, which I gave him; he was working at Mr. Harry Marks'—I knew he had gone there—we used to work together in Bethnal Green Road.
Cross-examined. I knew Slamervitch working at 92, White Street—he did not go from there to 222, Bethnal Green Road; he was at Bethnal Green Road first—I do not know where he went from there, but afterwards he was in White Street—I got him the situation at Poplar, and when he left his place ho came to me—I knew he was at White Street, because he came round to me when he was there.
Cross-examined by Balberski. You asked where Slamervitch was, and I gave you his address in Poplar.
HARRIS MARKS . I live at 149, Upper North Street, Poplar, and am a hairdresser and surgeon—dentist—Slamervitch entered my employment on January 1, and remained till he was arrested; I am one of his bail—he slept on the premises—his hours were from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m.—he had a half-holiday once a fortnight, on Tuesday, after 2 o'clock—we close at 4 on Sundays—I left home on January 30, and went to a wedding at Manchester, and returned on February 11—Slamervitch did not leave my premises while I was at home, except at the times I mention, and my son says he did not while I was away—he was away once in February, on a Thursday night, and once in March; once was about 9.30, and once at 10—I do not know at what time he came back; I did not see him till next morning—I always make them ask me in the afternoon if they want to go home, and then I stay at home—on a Thursday, in the middle of March, the prosecutrix came in and asked for the prisoner; he came to my private door and said, "A young woman wishes to see you"—he brought her in and introduced her; he stood up and she sat down—she said she came to ask me whether I would allow Slamervitch to come as a witness for her against a man named Balberski—I said yes, provided he lost his time—she said she came to this country and brought £15 with her, and Balberski put it in the bank in his name, and it was taken out, and he bought a hairdresser's shop with the money—I said, "What is he going to do?"—she said, "He is going to
open a shop in Whitechapel, and now I am left without money, and do not know what to do"—I said, "How can a girl be so foolish as to part with her money in a strange country to people she does not know?"—she said she was sorry—I said, "What sort opposition is this man in?"—she said, "He is very poor"—I said, "What are you going to do, how are you going to get your money back? I should advise you to come to terms and take the things, and you cannot lose the lot"—she said he was charging her so much for food, to the best of my recollection about £2 and so much for lodging, and so much for his own loss of time to go and buy the things—I said, "That is ridiculous; if he went to buy the things it was for his benefit, you go to him and ask him to settle with you; should he not do so mention my name; and come back and I will do all in my power to get some matron for you"—she said, "Will you allow the prisoner to come with me?"—I said, "I cannot spare him—she said, "As late as 10?"—I said, "Yes, "and at 9 o'clock I sent him down—next morning he gave me the answer, and said that Balberski was a little obstreperous—the girl said that Balberski proposed a partnership, and promised her a little room to live in, and her food, and gave her a writing for the £14.
Cross-examined. I was away in February, and my son managed my shop—he is not here—the prisoner was absent on the Thursday night soon after my return; that would be 13th February—I came home on Tuesday, the 11th, but he was not out that day—I had been travelling, and could not spare him—he did not ask me—I got back between four and five—I am prepared to swear he was not out on the 4th or on the 11th; I do not know if he was out on the 18th—the girl said that she had gone alone with Balberski to change a 300-mark draft, and obtained £15, which was banked by Balberski in his name without her knowledge—she did not say that he had taken the bank-book from her—I told Mr. Lucas "She was taken ill for a day or two, and Balberski told her he would take the book for a day or two, and return it when she got better, and on getting better she called on Balberski for the book, and found that the money had been drawn out of the bank"—she never said why Slamervitch was to be a witness for her, or why she came to him; but when he came down to her she showed him the book in Balberski's presence; he opened it, looked inside, and said, "That ain't your name; this is Balberski's name"—he had a quarrel with her why she had done such a thing, and told her she was a fool—I am paying for Slamervitch's defence—I nave no niece in London—I do not Know that there is any relation of mine to whom Slamervitch has been paying his addresses quite recently—I was at the Police-court throughout this matter, and in one case I explained to you that it was not interpreted right—I did not hear all the witnesses ordered out of Court, nor did I say, "No, I shall stay; because I am not going to be a witness."
Re-examined. There is no truth in the suggestion that Slamervitch is engaged to any relation of mine, or to any girl in whom I have any interest—when I told the prosecutrix to take the things away she said, "Would you like to buy them?"—I said, "No, you will find plenty of people at the other end of the town who will buy them."
By the JURY. The conversation between me and the prosecutrix was in German; I did not hear her speak Yiddish.
Cross-examined by Balberski. She said that he should go as a witness
against you, because when she showed him the book in your presence he opened it and said, "This is not Amelia Haymann, this is Balberski,"
By the JURY. I speak Yiddish very little; I speak Polish—the only occasion I went to the loan office was when the money was paid in.
ROBERT COHEN . I am a hairdresser, out of employment at present—on 18th February I saw the prosecutrix at your house between five and six o'clock, she said, "I am going with your wife to the theatre, and there is the book, you can go and get £4," and he told the landlady to leave the door unbolted—I am quite sure that was between five and six o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. BODKIN. I was not employed by Balberski at that time—I went there on Tuesday because I was told he was going to leave the shop—the girl was dressed to go to the theatre with Mrs. Balberski; they left the shop while I was there—Balberski was attending to a customer, and I left him in the shop.
ALEXANDER COHEN . I am a clothier, of 17, New Street, New Road—I am a director and cashier of the loan company—on February 4 Balberski came there with the prosecutrix—he asked in English to open an account and what interest; I told him 5 per cent., and said, "What name?" he said, "My name is Solomon Balberski"—he then turned to the prosecutrix, and they talked in their language for a minute or two—I could understand it, but it was in a low tone; he turned round and said, "Put it in my name; "I made the bank-book out accordingly, and he handed me two £5 notes and four sovereigns, which the prosecutrix handed to him—I gave him the book and he gave it to her, and on February 10th they both came again to draw out £6; it must have been on Monday, and I am sure it was the 10th—a withdrawal note was made out, which she signed, and the £6 was given to her with the book, and she put it in a hand-bag; I did not give it to her, Mr. Bowman handed it to her—I am positive the prosecutrix is the person who came to draw out the £6—I observed her closely, she wore a short light jacket, and I remarked to a friend that it was rather peculiar that the money was put in last week and drawn out so soon—we are only open from 8 to 10 p.m.; there was another withdrawal on the 11th, but I was not present—when the £6 was paid I could not reach, and I handed it to Bowman.
By the JURY. It did not strike me as suspicious that he replied to me in another language, "In my name, "because a good many husbands and wives come together, and I do not ask any questions—she handed the money to him, and he handed it to me.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. I was present on the 4th, and on Monday, the 10th, and noticed the girl on both occasions—I only remember her wearing a short light jacket covering the rest of her dress, and she sat in the same place as she did the first time—it might have been about nine o'clock when the money was paid to Balberski, he produced the book—there was no necessity for him to bring the girl to get the money, because it was in his name—he had not got the book when he came in, he got it from her—the notice of withdrawal was in his name—
whoever came on that evening I pledge myself wore a light jacket—Mr. Bowman was present on the 4th—I made the book out, but I could not reach, and Mr. Bowman handed the money over—I spoke in English.
By the JURY. There were sometimes three and sometimes four directors present—I heard Mr. Bowman having a conversation in Hebrew, whispering—I understand Hebrew—it was Mr. Bowman who asked in what name it was to be—there were one or two chairs in front of me, and I was sitting near the fireplace—they addressed themselves in the first instance to Mr. Bowman, and the conversation was in a whisper.
MRS. SHAUBERG (Interpreted). I live at 23, Greenfield Street, and am the landlady of the house—the prosecutrix lodged there four weeks she got up every day at eleven, and went out and came back at eleven at night, and once she came into the kitchen to me—I asked her where she was going all day; she said she was going to make purchases—I said, "What for, are you going to get married?"—she said no, she was going to have a barber's shop, and wanted some looking-glasses for that purpose, and afterwards she came and gave me notice to leave—I asked where she was going; she said she was going to the barber's shop; two days afterwards she said she had altered her mind, and was not going away, as she had had a quarrel with the barber; and the day after she said she would not take the things, she would summons him for the money—she had her food in my place for four weeks; she paid me the rent, but she told me the money came from Balberski; one of his children brought her some coffee in the morning, and something to eat.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. I am not very friendly with the Balberskis, I do not know them; his wife came and took a room for this girl in my house—I cannot tell whether the girl came about February 6th, but about a fortnight after she came she told me about these purchases.
Evidence in Reply.
AMELIA HAYMANN (Re-examined), I went twice to the theatre, the first time, I think, was on a Tuesday, and the second on a Thursday—I have not got a white or light jacket, which I wore over my clothing—when the money was paid in I wore a long winter cloak, quite black—I do not understand the evidence that has been given by Mr. Cohen.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I have been sitting in Court next to a German lady who speaks English; she did not translate the evidence to me, she did not speak of it; she spoke of quite a different subject, not of this case; she only said she felt very warm—I was not wearing this waterproof in February, and I did not wear this dress in winter.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. She had other dress bodices, but she had no other outdoor jacket.
MARK SHIRE . I am a barber, of 92, White Street, Bethnal Green—Slamervitch has been twice in my employment, first for one week some time before Christmas, and then he did a job for me on Saturday and Sunday, and then I engaged him regular, and he was there for about twelve days, and I discharged him on Christmas Eve, 1889.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Before the prosecutrix arrived and before Christmas, Slamervitch told me he was engaged to her, and had money from her for an examination, but he spent the money instead.
MR. MOORE. I am interested in this case, and attended at the Police-court—the magistrate ordered the witnesses out of Court, and Mr. Ratcliffe, the solicitor, turned to Mr. Marks and said, "You are going to be a witness in the case, you had better go"—Marks said, "Me! I am not going to be a witness, "and remained in Court.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I was not in Court on the 16th, I had the influenza—I did not hear Mr. Meer say that he intended to dismiss the case against Slamervitch, or anything of that nature—I was there on April 7th and 15th—I believe I was absent on the 16th—up to that time the case had been conducted by Mr. Ratcliffe; on the 23rd Mr. Mead was brought down to prosecute—I was there when the case was committed for trial—I heard Mr. Young cross-examine the prosecutrix—the Magistrate said very likely the case might go for trial, as he wanted to reserve his defence.
Balberski, in his defence, which was only partly intelligible, said that the prosecutrix came to him with a letter from his relations; that he went to all the hairdressers in Bethnal Green to ask about Slamervitch; that she gave him a cheque, and as she could not write, she made her sign, and received three £5 notes, one of which he got changed for her; and as she wished to put the money into a Government bank, he went with her to the loan office, where she paid the money in, and then his wife took a lodging for her, and afterwards removed to Greenfield Street; that she said she came over here to get married; and Slamervitch came and said that she would work in one shop, and he in the other, and they would be partners; and on the Monday night they went to the bank and drew the first £6, and bought some furniture for the shop; and on Tuesday night drew out £4; and the next week he took a house, and bought things for the business, and £14 was not enough; that on February 18th she said, "You can go and take the £4; I will go to the theatre with your wife "; that he drew out the £4, and handed it to her the next morning with the book; that she afterwards wanted her money back, and he could not give it to her, but offered her the things he had bought and the receipts, and she would not take them.
GUILTY . BALBERSKI— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
SLAMERVITCH— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TORR Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault— Two Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, May 24th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, May 24th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. G. A. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH WADELOW . I live at 4, Steel Road, West Ham, and am the wife of Matthew Wadelow—we kept fowls, which on 29th April were perfectly safe at between 9 and 10 p.m. in the fowlhouse at the bottom of the garden—next morning I got up at 4 a.m. to get my husband's breakfast, and at half-past five I went down to feed the fowls, and found they were gone—the staple had been wrenched out of the door and bent, and had been put back bottom upwards, and the lock was upside down—I had six hens and a cockerel, and all but one hen were gone—they were worth twenty shillings—I have seen the fowls the prisoner was found carrying; I have the wings here; I am quite sure they were ours.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw you before, to my recollection—I know the fowls by their colour and general appearance; I have no doubt about them—my husband went to the station to claim the fowls on the day we missed them.
MICHAEL CREWS (Policeman K 508.) On 80th April, about 4.20 a.m., I was off duty in the Bow Road—I saw the prisoner on the other side of the road going towards London, with a parcel on his left shoulder, and a bag in his right hand—the parcel was done up so square that no one would suspect it contained fowls; it was done up in brown paper and a sack, and tied with twine—I said to the prisoner, "What have you got there?"—he said, "Fowls"—I told him he would have to come to Bow Station; he made no answer—he went to the station; he made no reply to the charge, but in the station he said, "I bought them at Stratford," and then he said he gave fifteen shillings for them; and then he said he bought them at Forest Gate; he said that continuously—the fowls were quite warm, but dead; their necks had been wrung—he was coming from the direction either of Stratford or West Ham when I met him—he had eight fowls; two belonged to another person.
Cross-examined. People came to the station and claimed the fowls, and they were given to them.
By the COURT. I met the prisoner about a mile and a half or two miles from Mrs. Wadelow's house—he had a brush with him.
The Prisoner, in a written defence, said he was a poultry-dealer, and bought the fowls for 15s.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in September, 1888. There was another indictment against him for stealing the other two fowls— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
456. JOSEPH BAILEY (85) and HUGH JOHNSON (16) , Unlawfully committing acts of gross indecency with one another; other Counts against Bailey, for committing acts of gross indecency with other male persons.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, MR. WILLS Defended Bailey.
BAILEY— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
JOHNSON— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON, HORACE AVORY, and BIRON Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.
SUSAN CRANE . I am the wife of William Crane, and live at 37. Nelson Street, Canning Town—the prisoner is my nephew; he married my daughter, and lived with me—they occupied the front room up and the back room down—he was employed at Mr. Lisle's sugar refinery—they had two children, the eldest was a boy named Joseph, one year and nine months old; the youngest was a girl, three weeks old—the boy Joseph had been ill for fifteen weeks with consumption of the bowels, he died on 14th March—on the 13th March the prisoner came back from his work about four o'clock—he was very fond of both the children—he nursed the boy a good deal—when he came back at four he had his tea in the usual way, just the same as he always had—about eight I was in the back kitchen with the prisoner's wife and Mrs. Turnbull—Mrs. Wood went upstairs—after that I heard screams of "Mother!"—Mrs. Turnbull went up and I followed as quickly as I could—when I got into the room Mrs. Turnbull had the baby Nelly in her arms—I did not notice anything about her—I went for Dr. Holton, and he followed me, we got back about a quarter to eight—the child died at a quarter to eleven the same evening—about four next morning I was sitting up with the boy Joseph in the prisoner's room, Mrs. Turnbull, and my daughter, and my son William were in the room at the time—the prisoner was lying on the bed with his clothes on—he rose up and said he would have to give himself up for what he had done—we asked him what he had done, and he said he had hit his child on the head with the poker—I asked him what he had done it for, he said he must have been mad at the time—the doctor came again next morning—I heard the prisoner speak to the doctor, and also when Sergeant McEvoy asked what was the mark on the side of the child's head, the prisoner said he had done that—he was asked what with, he said, "With the poker"—my daughter said something to me, and I went upstairs and found this poker in my box; I gave it to the sergeant.
Cross-examined. My daughter is the prisoner's first cousin, he is my sister's son—I have known him all his life; he has always lived very happily and comfortably with his wife—he has always been a good husband and a good father; he conducted himself very well for some time, after his work was over he used to go to a night-school to try to improve himself; he is not very clever in reading—he was very much attached to the boy, he used to take him out, he was always thinking about him, it preyed on his mind a very great deal—he went regularly to his work at Messrs. Lisle's; he would sometimes go to his work at two and three in the morning, and work till about the same time next day—sometimes he would not have more than a few hours' sleep in the night,
on account of the child—the boy Joseph became ill about Christmas, and it was very soon known that he was very ill indeed; it used to be awake all night, it never got any sleep, he was always crying—he was suffering from consumption of the bowels—the prisoner used to sit up with him—I have tried to endeavour to make him get some sleep, but he would not—the child was in the room upstairs; there were other rooms, and I asked the prisoner to go and rest in another room, but he would not; he would go to his work without having had any sleep—the place where he works is very hot, he works there nearly naked—from Christmas to April I noticed that the want of sleep affected his health and that he was very bad; shortly before this his wife had been confined, and during that time he attended to the child a great deal more; his wife had rather a bad time of it for a fortnight after her confinement—he seemed pleased with the new baby; he was very fond of the children he used to nurse that child a good deal—on the night of 13th April, from the time he came home from his work, he stayed in the house all the time—there was a fire in the room, and he would look after it—after his wife came downstairs, it was about four minutes before she went up again—the baby was a very quiet baby—Joseph died about five minutes to six the next evening; during the night several of my children were sitting together in the room.
ELIZABETH TURNBULL . I am married—on the evening of 13th March I was at Mrs. Crane's—I heard cries of "Mother!"—I went up to the front room occupied by the prisoner, his wife, and children—when I went up I found the prisoner and his wife there, the wife was holding the little boy, and Nelly was lying in the bed—I said, "Mrs. Wood, what is the matter, it will be all right"—the prisoner was standing up in the room, he could hear what I said—the wife said, "It is not this baby, it is that little baby"—on that I took Nelly out of the bed—I then noticed a lump on her head—when I asked what was the matter, the prisoner said the child had fallen out of bed—Mrs. Crane came up and she went for the doctor, and he came—I remained there till four in the morning—when the prisoner made the statement about giving himself up, I said to him, "Did it run in your head before to do it?"—he said, "No "at first, and then he said, "Yes, it has since Monday."
By the COURT. He seemed very restless and very distressed before this—this occurred on Thursday night or Friday morning—I had been in the house between the Monday and Thursday—I had seen the prisoner attending to the little boy and to the other child, as usual—there was nothing different in his demeanour or behaviour towards the baby between the Monday and Thursday, he was just as kind to it as ever—there was nothing to make me think there was anything wrong running in his head—he was not often left alone with the children, it would be a very rare occurrence—I was often, there, sometimes two or three times a day I would call in—I never saw anything in the least degree unkind towards the child—I did not notice a difference in his manner during the last week or so—he was not always restless—that morning he was, and all that night—he was very agitated that night—I heard him say, "I must have been mad"—that was when I asked what he had done it for; he said, "I must have been tempted to do it, I must have been mad"—there was not a word showing ill-feeling or complaint towards the child.
Ford Market, Canning Town—on the evening of 13th March I was called to 37, Nelson Street to see Nelly Wood—she was in convulsions—I found a lump on her head, I examined it; it disclosed a fracture of the bone beneath it—I considered there was no hope of saving her life—I never saw her again—the fracture of the skull was the cause of death—I went to the house next day and found her dead—I saw the prisoner on that occasion—he made a very confused statement—he said first that the child had fallen out of bed, and then that it had knocked its head against the wall—I gave information to the police—on the 17th I made a postmortem examination of the body, which confirmed my previous opinion that the fracture was the cause of death.
Cross-examined. There was one bruise on one side of the head, and one on the other, but likely to have been caused by the same force—the head of so young a child would be very tender; but I think the blow must have been rather severe to have caused the injury—I don't think it probable that the injury could have been caused by a fall out of bed; I would not like to say it was impossible.
Re-examined. I saw the poker; I think that could have caused the injury.
THOMAS MCEVOY (Police Sergeant K 46). On the 14th March, about 9 p.m., I went to 37, Nelson Street; I saw the prisoner on the ground floor; I went with him to the room upstairs, and there saw the dead bodies of the two children—I noticed a mark on the youngest—I said, "What caused that"—I did not say that to anyone in particular—the prisoner and Mrs. Crane were in the room—the prisoner said, "I did that, I hit her with the poker last night; I don't know why I did it; I could not help it"—I said, "That is a serious statement to make, you should be careful"—I then asked Mrs. Crane where the poker was—she made some answer—the prisoner's wife then came in, and I put the same question to her—in consequence of what she said, Mrs. Crane went upstairs to her own room and came back with the poker—the prisoner said, "That is the poker"—I then took him to the station.
JAMES CUMMINGS (Police Inspector). At a quarter to ten, on 14th March, the prisoner was brought to the station by McEvoy; he was charged with killing and slaying the little girl Nelly—I told him he was not bound to make any statement; he could do as he pleased—he then made a statement, which I took down, read over to him, and he signed it—this is it. (Read: "About 4 a.m., on the 14th March, 1890, I arose up from my bed and said I must give myself up for what I have done, namely, by striking my child across the head at the side of the head. I told my wife the above. I have nothing more to say at present."
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did it with the poker; there was no one in the room at the time I did it."
Witnesses for the Defence.
ANN WOOD . I am the wife of William Wood, and mother of the prisoner—my husband is now in the West Ham Union; he is paralysed, and has been for about six months—he has not done anything for seven years—ho has been very much affected in his head—besides the prisoner I have another son named James, aged 29—the prisoner has always been of a kindly disposition from his birth; he has always been fond of children—he has suffered very much from fits—he is 25 years of age—I think the first fit he had was about 20 years ago; it was a very
bad one; he was black with it—Mr. James Conroy attended him—it was an epileptic fit—he did not have another for several years—since he has been married I have been fetched to him four times—he was then very bad in his head, and kicked about—I don't think he was seen by a doctor on any of those occasions—he sometimes came to my house shortly before 13th April, while the child was ill—he was then very weak and bad in his head; that was before the baby was born—when he came he sat down and cried—my son James does not know what he is doing sometimes; he is very spiteful sometimes—he has not got much sense; I sometimes have to wash and dress him—he has had five or six fits a day sometimes; not lately, not for the last two or three years—my father's sister, Sophy Brown, is in an asylum at Norwich—I went with my father to take her there; that is very nearly forty years ago; she has been there' forty years; I have not seen her since.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has had four fits since he married, they were not like the first fit he had—the doctor said the first was an epileptic fit—his head was very bad, he would stagger and fall—he works at Lisle's factory; it is very warm there.
By the COURT. When he came to my house and cried, it was because the little boy was worse—he used to complain of his head swimming before the fits came on—fourteen years ago we all had a very bad attack of typhus fever.
SAMUEL CHESNUT . I am foreman to Messrs. Lisle's at Silvertown—the prisoner has worked there between five and six years—about seven months before this matter occurred he was seized with a fit while at work, I could not judge what sort of a fit it was; I took it for a fit of weakness; he remained in it for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes I have not seen any of the other men in the same kind of fit.
Cross-examined. He fell down from his work—I could not say he was in a faint, he was powerless; he was unconscious for a minute or two—no doctor was called in; he went home.
JAMES WRIGHT HILL , B. M. I live at Albert Road, North Woolwich—I know the prisoner very well—I remember his coming to me on the Monday after he had the fit in the factory—I had been attending him previously—he told me he had been taken with a fit while at work—he suffered very much from neuralgia and giddiness and headache, they were all nervous symptoms—I thought he was epileptic, from what he told me.
By the COURT. I thought so from the nervous symptoms that he had, and from his falling down unconscious—I have been attending him since then for similar symptoms; he would sometimes have loss of memory and giddiness—he has had no fits since Christmas; only little temporary attacks of loss of memory and unconsciousness; it was a type of epilepsy, not by any means well marked.
HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN . I have made a special study of the subject of insanity—I was desired by the Solicitors to the Treasury to see the prisoner—I saw the depositions in the case before I examined him—I saw him in Holloway Prison on the 21st March in Company with Dr. Gilbert—when I first saw the prisoner I saw that he was a man of low type of head, nothing very notable, except a peculiarity about the pupil of the eye, which is very commonly met with in epilepsy, though not exclusively confined to epilepsy; it was so marked that I drew Dr. Gilbert's
attention to it; it was not well marked, but it was there—his pulse was extremely irregular and intermittent, rather unnaturally slow—I examined him—I gathered from what he told me that he had had a fit in the previous January—from the account he gave it seemed pretty clear that it was an epileptic fit—he spoke of having had several attacks of giddiness since that period—it occurred to me that the fits of giddiness he spoke of were merely a minor form of epilepsy, known as pettit-mal— he spoke of the illness of the child Joseph, and said how fond he was of the child, and spoke of his sleepless nights—he gave me no description of what took place on the night of this occurrence—he said that his wife went out of the room for a few minutes, not more than five minutes—at that time I had seen from the depositions what he had said; therefore I did not ask for any description; he intimated that he did it then, and he did not know why he did it, that it came over him to do it—his condition for the last two months, as well as his work, would tend to aggravate the condition of a man suffering from epilepsy—epilepsy manifests itself in various forms on different occasions, there is the more severe convulsive attack—I assume that he was also subject to the minor attacks that he spoke of as giddiness, and I think he was suffering from both—such an attack as pettit-mal would be very brief, a moment or two, half a minute or less, and then it passes away—there is a loss of consciousness to a certain extent with those attacks—there was no evidence to enable me to say that he had such an attack on this night—all the facts of the case that have been mentioned, coupled with those I found, that there does seem to have been insanity in three generations of the family, would lead me to think that the act was a sudden impulsive act, one that was not in the least premeditated—I understood him to say that he had had three or four attacks of giddiness after the fit in January up to the 13th March—such attacks vary very much; there is no limit, they pass by insensible degrees into the more severe attack; as a rule recovery is very quick indeed from the minor attacks.
Cross-examined. I was with him altogether about an hour and a half he conversed with me quite in a rational way—he gave intelligible answers to my questions, looking at the condition of education of the man—I was not able to discover any organic disease of the brain, because for the most part epilepsy is a functional disease—my object in seeing him was to ascertain whether he was of unsound mind—I could discover no evidence of insanity, but I thought he was an epileptic.
Re-examined. I could not say that epilepsy is a form of insanity; it is closely allied to it, undoubtedly—I find that a large percentage of persons whose minds are affected are epileptic, and in the same family epilepsy and insanity are intermixed.
By the COURT. The three generations I refer to are the great-aunt, in an asylum, the imbecile brother, and the prisoner, an epileptic—I do not pretend to say that the prisoner is insane—there was no mention to me of the word "fit" by the prisoner; it was only from what he told me that I concluded he had had a fit, and in my report I mentioned the fact and hoped it would have been followed up in some manner; but I was not asked to inquire further in the matter—I know from my own large experience of epilepsy in hospitals where patients suffer from pettit-mal the friends and the patients themselves always speak of the attack as
faintness or giddiness—I had no other evidence of the man's previous state than that furnished by the depositions—I got from the man himself that his wife had only been out of the room five minutes, and I followed that up by saying, "Did the child cry very much during the time the mother was away?" and he said, "No, not much, just cried a little bit."
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation while there—I saw him with Dr. Bastian—I think since he has been in the prison his health has improved—I have frequently spoken to him with regard to what took place on the night of the 13th March; he has described to me the nature of the attack he had while at his work, and also the attacks of giddiness that he had on other occasions—I formed the opinion that they might have been attacks of an epileptic character—he told me that something came over him which compelled him to do this crime; he said he had been sleepless and much worried about his sick child—he has on occasions complained of giddiness while at Holloway—from my knowledge of the history of the case, I think he might have been suffering from mental disturbance about that time—after an attack of giddiness a man's memory might not be very distinct as to anything that bad occurred.
Cross-examined. I had several conversations with him about the incidents of the 13th March—he always gave substantially the same account as to what had taken place, and what he had done—he said he had struck the child on the head with the poker—he was not subject to any delusions.
By the COURT. When he said that something came over him, I inquired what it was, but he could give no other explanation than that a feeling came over him—he was invariably crying when I spoke to him—in answer to questions, he complained to me of giddiness and headache—I had no reason to suppose he was not speaking the truth, he said it seemed as if it was a dream—he always expressed himself as being very fond of his family.
JAMES LISLE . I am manager for Lisle and Co.—the prisoner entered the works in January, 1885—I considered him a very good man, particularly quiet and steady—we have 500 or 600 men in our employ—the prisoner was an exceptionally well-behaved man.
GUILTY of the act, but insane at the time— Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's Pleasure.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HUTTON and ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
GUILTY *— Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MOORE Prosecuted.
ISAAC GABRIEL . I am a tailor, of Woolwich—on Monday night, 14th April, I went to bed about 12 o'clock—the doors and windows were all fastened—between 3 and 4 o'clock I heard a crash of glass, and went down and found a hole about a foot wide in the shop window—I missed a coat and waistcoat from the window-board—I have seen the coat since, it was worth £1 5s.—the damage to the window was £10.
CHARLES FRAZER (Policeman K 468). On 15th April, about 2.20 a.m., I saw the prisoner outside Mr. Gabriel's shop; he asked me where he could get a night's lodging, and I directed him to a common lodging-house—I saw him again at 2.50 a.m., at the corner of Union Street, and asked him what he was doing—he said that all the lodging-houses were closed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The window was not broken then—you were a little the worse for liquor.
GEORGE WRIGHT . I am a stoker—on 15th April I met the prisoner between 7 and 8 a.m.; he showed me this coat (produced), and said if he could not get rid of it he would go further up—he did not say how he came by it—I informed Sergeant Day.
WILLIAM GOURD (Policeman K 449). On 15th April about 11 a.m. I was called into a pawnbroker's shop in Canning Town, who said in the prisoner's presence, "This man has been offering this coat in pledge, we declined to take it till he told us how he came by it"—I said, "Why do you not tell them how you came by it?"—he made no reply; I followed him to Victoria Dock Road (and said, "If you don't tell me how you came by the coat I shall take you to the station"—he said, "The coat is mine"—I took him to the station—he said, "The coat is mine, you cannot prove it is not"; he was charged with unlawful possession.
ROBERT DAY (Police Sergeant K). In consequence of information I found the prisoner at Canning Town station, and charged him with burglary and stealing the coat—he made no reply, but as we took him to Woolwich he said, "That coat was given to me by a man in Victoria Dock Road, who I know well, to pledge"—I asked him to give me a description of him, but he could not; he said he was well dressed.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
461. CHARLES CLARK (24) and WILLIAM DYER (24) [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image] , To a burglary in the dwelling-house of William Day, and stealing cigars and other articles, his property.— CLARK— Nine Months' Hard Labour. DYER— Four Months' Hard Labour. And
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. FINNIGAN Defended.
At the conclusion of the evidence for the prosecution, the prisoner expressed,
in the hearing of the JURY, the desire to PLEAD GUILTY, and the JURY thereupon found him
Several witnesses deposed to his good character.
Discharged on Recognisances.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
For the case of Daniel Stewart Gorrie see page 748.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and TORR Prosecuted; and MR. BIRON Defended.
GEORGE HENRY TANNER . I am a confectioner, of 52, Deacon Street, Walworth—on 9th May the prisoner lodged there with his aunt, Theresa Heizenbazzle—they had two rooms on the top floor: a sitting-room, which was also used as a bedroom for the deceased, and a back bedroom used by the prisoner—I have known the prisoner three years and a half—he was addicted to intemperance at intervals; I saw him daily—he had been drunk for five weeks before 19th May, without an interval—he had been a teetotaller for the previous fifteen months—about Easter he was thrown out of employment—on the morning of 9th May, about twenty minutes past seven, he came home very drunk—I found him lying in the passage—I assisted him along the passage—I saw nothing more of him that day—about six in the evening I heard the old lady come home—about an hour afterwards I hear a noise on the top floor like the smashing of glass, and I heard the deceased call out, "I am shot," or "He has shot me"—I ran up at once, and saw her leaning against the wall on the first landing, bleeding from the mouth; she fell down, repeating the same words—I carried her downstairs into my parlour, and at once went for Dr. Waring, and brought him back within three or four minutes, she was then dead—I got a couple of constables and went with them up to the backroom, and there found the prisoner sitting and half lying on the bed; if anything, he was worse than he had been in the morning, as to drunkenness—we took him into the front room—he said to me, "What have I done? what is it all about?"—the policeman said, "Where is the revolver?"—he made no answer at first, the question was repeated, and he then said, in a lone tone, "In the back room"—I held him while the constable went into the back room and brought back the revolver.
Cross-examined. During the three and a half years the prisoner and his aunt lodged with me, they seemed very comfortable together; she acted as his housekeeper—I never heard them quarrel, or an unkind word—I have repeatedly seen him under the influence of drink but even
when in drink he was never excited or quarrelsome, quite the reverse, very quiet—just before this he was restless, going in and out continually—I could not say whether the noise I heard upstairs was one sound or two, it was so quick; I believe it was two—I don't suppose he knew what he did.
FRANK CRANE (Policeman P 495). I was called by Mr. Tanner on this evening to 52, Deacon Street—I saw the deceased lying on the floor downstairs and the doctor attending to her—I went upstairs and found the prisoner leaning on the bed in the back room; he was dressed—on seeing us he rolled off the bed and crouched down by the side of the bed—we took him into the front room—I searched him, but found nothing—I asked him where the revolver was—he made no reply—I asked him a second time, and in a low tone of voice he said, "In the back room"—I found it there, on the top shelf of a cupboard, behind some books—I handed it to the Inspector.
Cross-examined. When I went into the room I said, "What have you done?" he said nothing—he seemed all of a shake and tremor—the cupboard door where the revolver was was open.
WILLIAM WARING . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 114, Walworth Road—on 9th May I was called to see the deceased—she was then dead—I found a gunshot wound in the left arm, it went through and entered the chest, that was the cause of death—on a post mortem examination I found a bullet in the substance of the lung.
Cross-examined. The wound was slightly upwards.
JOHN WEBB (Police Inspector) (Examined by MR. BIRON). I received this revolver from Crane—I understand firearms very little; there is a pin missing from this revolver; that would enable it to go off more easily—I was at Lambeth Police-court on the 10th—the prisoner was then in a state of delirium tremens—I doubt if he understood what was going on.
CHARLES PENNELL GALLIE (Examined by MR. BIRON). I examined the prisoner at a quarter to nine on the evening of the 9th May—I found him suffering from delirium tremens, and great muscular twitching—I do not think he was then in a responsible state—from the state he was in then I could form an approximate opinion as to his state at seven o'clock; I think he was then suffering from delirium tremens, and probably from drunkenness also, which would make his condition worse—I asked him if he knew where he was, and on looking round it took him a very considerable time to find out that he was in the Police-station—I heard him say several times, "I want to go home;" that seemed to be his one idea—ho shook and trembled very much in standing—I had him put in a chair at once, and ordered a constable to remain by him the whole night for his protection—delirium tremens is a cause of brain excitement brought on by drink—such persons have delusions, they fancy they are going to be attacked—such symptoms are not uncommon with suicide—I saw the prisoner again last Saturday, the 17th, at Lambeth Police-court—he then knew what was going on about him, but still showed evidence of recovering from delirium tremens.
GUILTY of Manslaughter, but being insane at the time— Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty' Pleasure.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. G. A. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY, on account of his age
Discharged on Recognisances.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective L). On 17th April, about 1.30 a.m., I was with Cox and Camber, and saw a man, not the prisoner, enter the Belvedere lodging-house; he ran upstairs, and we Mowed him to the front room third floor, where I saw the prisoner in bed—I said, "We are police officers, and suspect that you and the other lad, pointing to Heritage (see next case), are in possession of counterfeit coin; you will have to get up and dress"—Heritage was in the opposite bed to him—there was a walk between—Feast got out of bed, and I found four packets in paper between the mattress and palliasse, which contained twenty counterfeit florins and eight counterfeit half-crowns, separately wrapped in separate papers—there were two packets of five florins each, and ten florins in another packet—I said, "What does this mean, how do you account for this?"— he said, "It is all right; it serves me right; you told me the last time you rubbed me down that you would do me if I stayed in London"—I had met him three times before—I saw Camber search and find another counterfeit half-crown by the sheet on the same bed—I took him to the station—he threw the sheet back to see if it was in the bed where he had been lying—I found one penny on the prisoner at the station.
ALFRED CAMBER (Detective L). I was with the other officers; I searched the prisoner's bed, and found this counterfeit half-crown between the sheet and the mattress—I said, "How do you account for this half-crown being here?"—he said, "It is all right, I meant that to go for my breakfast this morning."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I mentioned that at the Police-court, to the best of my belief, the first time I was examined.
JOHN O'LEARY . I am deputy at the Belvedere Chambers common lodging-house, Belvedere Road, Lambeth—I was present when the prisoner was arrested—my wife and I make the beds, and we did so on the 16th, at noon, and did not find any coins in any of the beds—we do not take the bolsters off—Feast's bed had sheets and blankets, a straw bed, and a palliasse underneath—he has lodged there two months on and off, but has not occupied the same bed all the time—we lift up the mattresses once a week, on Mondays, and this was Wednesday—I lifted the sheet, and took all the clothes off, except the mattress—I cannot say how many nights Feast had slept on that bed.
ANNIE O'LEARY . I assist my husband in making the beds every morning, and did so on 16th April—I did not find any coin in any of the beds—we only lift up the mattresses on Monday mornings—the bedclothes come off every day.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—here are three packages of florins, twenty coins in all, representing a load; they are all counterfeit, and some of them are from the same mould—here is a packet of eight half-crowns all counterfeit, some of which are from one mould—this half-crown found between the sheets is counterfeit, and from the same mould as two of the others—they are wrapped in a long strip of paper and covered with lamp black, and taken out one by one, and the lamp black rubbed off before they are uttered.
Prisoner's Defence. I had only been in bed a quarter of an hour when the police came. I am always in the habit of searching my bed when I get in, and when I said it served me right I meant because I had not done so. I know no more about them than you do. I did not say that the half-crown was for my breakfast. A stranger in the next bed had only been gone a quarter of an hour when the police came.
JOHN O'LEARY (Re-examined). The prisoner came in at 8 a.m.—his bed had been let that night to the best of my belief—it is not usual for people to come in in the morning and go to bed, only when they work at night.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
DAVID COX (Detective L). I was with Nicholls and the other officers (See last case)—I saw Heritage in bed, and told him to get up, as I suspected he had counterfeit coin on him—he said, "I have not got any on me"—I searched him, but found nothing—I took him to the station—he said, "I have, been with him (meaning Feast) on two occasions; the first time was last Monday, when we went down to Whitechapel and passed three; I think twenty-one pieces at different public-houses in Whitechapel Road; I was out with him last night, but did not pass any; I was going out with him to-day; I only know him by living in the lodging-house"—I had seen the two prisoners together on the Monday before the arrest, and on the night before; on the first occasion in Belvedere Road, and the second in a public-house opposite the lodging-house.
The evidence of ALFRED NICHOLS, ALFRED COMBER, JOHN O'LEARY, ANNIE O'LEARY, and WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER in the last case was read over to them, to which they assented.
JOHN BROGAN (Police Sergeant). I was with the other officers; going to the station Heritage said, "I was with the old man that Monday, and I have passed three two-shilling pieces at different public-houses in Whitechapel Road, and I was out with him last evening, but did not pass any. I was to go out with him again to-day had it not been for this occurrence"—I searched the different beds, but only found a good penny, which Feast claimed; it was by the side of his bed on the floor.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said that he had only been in London four days, when he met Feast, who took him to several public-houses, but he did not know the money was bad till the arrest was made.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
CATHERINE CHAMP repeated her former evidence (see page 614), and added—The prisoner stood on Corbett's right side—Corbett threw me to the ground, and while I was on the ground my clothes were turned over my head, a hand was placed on my stomach, and my stockings were pulled down over my boots—I was kicked several times by the prisoner and Corbett—the prisoner tore my ulster off, which had 11s. 6d. in the pocket—about a week afterwards I was with Mrs. Barnes, and saw the prisoner at the top of the alley in Union Street, leaning against a post—I looked him full in the face—I made a remark to Mrs. Barnes, and a tall man said to the prisoner, "You are spotted"—the prisoner could hear that, and walked sharply away—I described him to the police, and did not see him again till he was in custody.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know you by the scarf which you are wearing now, and by the tone of your voice, and by your trousers—I said at the Police-court that you were lying across my chest, with your hand over my mouth—I was kicked by several.
DR. WALTER ALFRED MARSH . Mrs. Champ has been under my care since February 17th, suffering from injury to her right hip joint, causing pain and inability to stand on her right leg, a shaking of the limbs and general loss of power—she is still unable to walk, and there is still a shaking of the limbs—there were no marks when I examined her, as that was some weeks after the injury, and all bruises had gone—there was also pain in the right abdominal region—the injuries would be likely to be caused by a kick.
JANE BARNES . I am the wife of George Henry Barnes, of Newington Butts—I was with Mrs. Champ on 19th January, she pointed out the prisoner to me standing at the corner of a court, leaning against a post, a tall man said, "You are spotted at last," and the prisoner walked away—he was wearing a violet and black scarf.
Cross-examined. There Were three or four men with you—Mrs. Champ was leaning on my arm and on another friend, who is since dead, in order to enable her to walk.
WILLIAM GENTLE (Detective M). About 9 p. m. on 12th April, I was with Detective Otway in the Crown public-house, my attention was drawn to the prisoner by his behaviour to an old man who was very drunk—I recognised his description, went round to that compartment, took hold of his left hand, and said, "I want you, come outside"—we went out and I said, "I arrest you on suspicion of assaulting and robbing a woman in Orange Street"—he said, "You have made a mistake, I know nothing about knocking a woman about"—the prosecutrix was too ill to come to the station to identify him, but I took her in a cab next day, and the prisoner was placed with other men, and after about a minute she pointed to a man not the prisoner, and said, "That is something like him"—she then
fixed her eyes on him for about a minute; the Inspector said, "That will do," and as soon as the prisoner moved, she said in a very excited manner, "That is him; I am sure that is the one, and I know him, too, by his trousers; he had a kind of blue scarf on that night"—remembering that the prisoner had a blue scarf on when I arrested him I felt in his pockets for it, and could not find it; I afterwards found it concealed under his waistcoat, and the prosecutrix recognised it as similar to the scarf he wore—he was then charged, and said, "It is all through you; I bought these trousers since this affair"—I said, "When did you buy them?"—he said, "About twelve months ago"—after the prosecutrix said, "That is him; I am sure that is the one," the prisoner said, "You have made a mistake, lady; you cannot identify me by these trousers, for I can prove I bought them since that affair"—the injuries which I am suffering from were inflicted in another case.
Cross-examined, You did not say, "You could not identify me by my scarf; I bought it since this affair"—you said that about your trousers.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "When the lady recognised me I was so excited that I hardly knew what I did say; I am quite innocent."
Prisoner's Defence. The lady said, "I recognise that man by his trousers and scarf. "I got the scarf since I was taken up, from a man I work for. If I did say anything about my trousers I told the truth, if I said I had had them twelve months.
Witness for the Defence.
GEORGE GOSLEE . I am a cab-master, of 23, Owen Street—I have known the prisoner nearly all his life—on 25th February I had an order to go to Leatherhead (looking at a letter) to fetch a pony, and on the Monday following I cut this scarf in two and gave the prisoner half of it.
Cross-examined. I am no relation of his, but he goes as my nephew—I was at the Police-court, but said I could not give evidence because I was not sure whether I gave him the scarf before or after Christmas, because I could not recollect just at the time, but I have discovered it since.
By the JURY. His father persuaded him to go into the country, and he promised to go, and I gave him the scarf and three shillings, as it was very cold—I had talked to him several times about this affair, and he said he would leave his old occupations altogether and go out of London—I talked to him many times about this act, if he had done it, and when he said he would go away I gave him the scarf—he did not go; he said he had done nothing.
Evidence in Reply.
FRANK DOYLE (L 157). I had the prisoner in custody on 6th December, 1886, on a charge of felony; he was convicted and sentenced to twelve months' hard labour; a conviction was then proved against him of twelve months' hard labour for housebreaking.
WILLIAM GENTLE (Re-examined). The man the prosecutrix pointed to first was dressed very much like prisoner—she then cast her eyes along the line and kept them on the prisoner, and when he moved his head on one side, she said, "That is him, that will do."
to the man in the street, and said, "That is the man," it was done quickly and without hesitation—he had the blue scarf on then.
He was then charged with the previous conviction; and the certificate put in, to which Doyle referred.
GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude and Twenty-five strokes with the Cat.
470. JAMES SAKER (17) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an order for the delivery of a cheque-book, and also to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £50— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. and
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JUNE 23RD, 1890.