CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 8TH, 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
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, September 8th, 1890, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR HENRY AARON ISAACS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARTHUR CHARLES , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the said City; JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., EDWARD HART , Esq., and HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
FREDERICK KYNASTON METCALFE, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ISAACS, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 8th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
634. FREDERICK WILLIAM THEODORE OELRICHS (29) was indicted for feloniously and fraudulently affixing on a piece of paper a stamp, purporting to be of the value of £1 5s., which had been removed from another piece of paper. Second Count, for aiding and abetting in the same.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
SEPTIMUS MERRIMAN . I am the manager in London of the marine department of the National Fire and Marine Insurance Company of New Zealand, and of the South British Fire and Marine Insurance Company of New Zealand—I was also manager of the Adelaide Marine and Fire Insurance Company, which is now in liquidation—I was appointed manager in October, 1886; my office was at Jerusalem Chambers—there was an arrangement between the companies to share risks outwards to the Colonies—at the end of every month the policies of re-insurance were made, dividing the risks; that arrangement continued up to June with reference to two of the companies—the prisoner has been employed in the office for the last six years; he was head policy clerk—his duty was to write out policies, and to check them by seeing that proper stamps were on them, and that the necessary clauses were in the policies—the stamps vary according to the amount of the risk—that was with reference to outward voyage policies at any rate—this Policy of 6th April, 1890, No. 108,836A, made on behalf of the South British Company, has £3 12s. 9d. payable as stamp duty, and it bears stamps for £1 5s., £1, 2s. 6d., and 3d.—they are genuine stamps, two bearing date 15th February, 1887, and one 28th January, 1887—they have been used before on another paper—this letter of 11th April, 1890, is in the prisoner's writing—I did not authorise it to be written, and know nothing about it—I never received the £4 15 3d. mentioned here us received for spoiled stamps. (This letter, written on paper of the South British Company, was addressed to the Comptroller of the Spoiled Stamp Department:—"This is to authorise the bearer, Mr. F. W. T, Oelrichs, to recover the spoiled stamps of the value of £4 15s. 3d. on policy forms
of the above company.—Yours faithfully, S. Merriman"—my name was spelt wrongly—the prisoner was in no way authorised to recover money for spoiled stamps—I know nothing about this declaration which is signed by the prisoner; the receipt at the foot of it for £4 15s. 3d. for spoiled stamps is signed by him—the declaration is a Government form—one of the stamps is for £3 12s. 9d.—I produce thirty-one policies altogether, which have all been tampered with; there are two other policies missing; there should be thirty-three—all the other policies are in order—from eighteen of the thirty-one policies stamps have been removed, and on those eighteen other stamps have been put—upon the other thirteen of the thirty-one the stamps removed from the eighteen have been placed—about 24th June I saw two or three policies, after they were taken out of the clause-box, I believe—these two letters, dated 9th July, 1889, and 17th May, 1890, are in the prisoner's writing—they were not written by my authority—he has never accounted to me for the stamps he so claimed. (The letter of 17th May, written on paper of the South British Company, Limited, authorised the bearer, Mr. F. W, T. Oelrichs, to recover spoiled stamps of the value of £2 on policy forms of the company, and was signed S. Merriman)—this is a receipt for £2—the prisoner never accounted to me for it—the letter of July, 1889, refers, I believe, to £4 15s. 6d. which he has claimed—it refers to a stamp which had been obtained for a National Company's policy, No. 115,465A, dated 11th July, 1889, duty £4 15s. 6d.—it is stamped with five stamps amounting to £4 15s. 6d.—of that stamps for £4 5s. have been taken from other material; only the stamps for 10s. 6d. are right—in June this year I spoke to the prisoner about the tampering with these stamps, and said it was a very serious matter, and it would have to be investigated—he said he knew nothing about them, with the exception of one stamp, which had been pointed out to him by Mr. Wardell nearly a year ago—I said I should request him to write a letter, which I could read to the board—he wrote this letter:—"8th July, 1890—Sir—As I understand that my conduct in connection with the unfortunate stamp business is to be considered by the directors at their meeting to-morrow, I would beg that you place before them this, my explanation. As regards the occasion, about a year ago, when the faulty stamp was pointed out to me, my reason for not saying anything at the time to you was a fear of the consequences; the same having been passed by mo, my initials being on the policy, which I am very sorry for; but I still more regret that, notwithstanding increased care on my part, a stamp, but only one, passed me within the last few months, which has since been proved to be a wrong one. As an excuse I plead that I had not the slightest idea of what was being carried on, and would beg the board to take a lenient view of the matter, at the same time promising for the future to work with the utmost caution. I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, F. W. T. Oelrichs"—both the policies, with stamps value £4 5s. 3d. and £3 12s. 9d., are in the prisoner's writing, and several other of the thirty-one policies are in his writing—I believe they all bear his initials as being correct, and as having been examined—on or about 24th June I received a verbal communication from Mr. Nichols, a clerk in the office, and he showed me two policies which had been found in the clause-box, and the stamps of which had been tampered with—I made a report to my board—on 30th June I
communicated with the Inland Revenue—the clause-box was open, and common property—one, two, or three policy-writers all go to it and take out what clauses they want.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A clerk named Magrath had charge of all policy stamps under lock and key—he kept a monthly account of the stamps with the accountant—he was dismissed with two other clerks, about the end of May or June this year, for inattention to work—all three occasionally wrote out policies; I should say one was the regular policy-writer, and the other two assistants—one of them, Hanbury, was a very good writer—I cannot say if his handwriting was like yours; all your writings in a way were alike, but I never compared his with yours—when Magrath was leaving, a discrepancy in his balance of stamps was discovered—he was taxed with it, and made a confession—he said he had recovered spoilt stamps from Winchester House—he said nothing about Somerset House—he said he had recovered postage stamps, and appropriated them to his own use, without accounting to the company, that he had appropriated money to his own use on postage stamps—he was appointed in 1887—he did not admit it had teen going on for two or three years past, but I have since ascertained that it has—the matter was reported to the directors, and Magrath was requested to attend for two or three board days while the directors were considering his case—then he was requested to attend on a particular board day, but he never had the letter, as it was returned to me from the Dead Letter Office—it was not an open secret in the office that the board would overlook his matter; the board took legal advice, and were advised not to prosecute—I think Nichols found those other matters, and called my attention to them on the Tuesday before the board meeting—on Wednesday when I reported to them it made the matter look blacker for Magrath—suspicion rested on him on the Wednesday—he did not turn up at the board meeting on that day—I wrote on the Tuesday night to tell him to be in attendance next day; he was still in the company's employment—the letter was returned from the Dead Letter Office on Wednesday afternoon, after the board had left—he wrote a letter, which came on the Wednesday afternoon; it gave no address, and said he had given up his apartments—he never appeared at the office, and we did not know his address—he never came to offer any explanation—I am told he has been seen in the City—the old policies were kept where anyone could get at them—one of the amounts you are charged with recovering at Somerset House is for £2, which does not refer to these insurance policies—you simply had to get stamps from Magrath for the purpose of writing out a policy, spoil them and take them to Somerset House—you might have gone to the box itself and taken out stamps; if Magrath had balanced his account at the end of every month, as he ought to have done, he would have found deficiency if there had been deficiency—Magrath ought to have kept his accounts, so that we should know what stamps and money he ought to have, but he did not keep it properly, and there is considerable deficiency now for over three years—we had such confidence in you, that Magrath or anyone in the office would have given you stamps if you had asked for them—you had a great many policies to check, as well as writing out some; some days you had more than others—it was known in the office that detectives were at work in Somerset House; they came
to the office and examined most of our clerks—you made no attempt to get away—your character has been good for six and a half years—in every respect you gave me every satisfaction, and did your work well; I had no fault to find with you.
Re-examined. Magrath was a copyist, and had charge of the stamps—he was registered at Winchester House to recover for spoilt stamps, and therefore it was not necessary for him to get any special authority, such as these letters, from us—these authorities are in the prisoner's writing—when I communicated with the Inland Revenue I was not aware my name had been forged—I have never seen the letters, nor the declarations, nor receipts—the signature to the receipt for £2 to the South British Company is in the prisoner's writing—Magrath expressed great astonishment that the amount of the deficiency was so large—the Government puts the stamps on policies; they issue them with the stamp—we have a fresh stock every month—some stamps are embossed and some are adhesive—all the stamps removed in this way were adhesive, and could be taken off and used for any policies they liked—on this policy of 11th July, 1889, the stamps are of the date of 1887, and have been taken off a missing policy—the company have paid for new stamps, and instead of new stamps being used, stamps have been removed from other policies and put on to the right amount—the Government and the company have been defrauded—we send blank policy forms to the Government office to have stamps put on—the blue printing ought to go over and not under the stamp; if it goes under the stamp it shows the stamp was put on afterwards—Government officials would not put the stamp over it—we have £60 or £70 of stamps in stock—the penny stamp is dated 6th May, 1890, and the policy is of the 4th July, 1887—the stamp must have been cut off—the risks have run off these policies, and they are kept in a box together.
By the Prisoner. There was nothing to prevent Magrath from transferring a stamp from an old policy, and putting it on a fresh one; but you ought to have detected it—it was ascertained that he had been at our office on one or two occasions on Sunday; one of the clerks happened to be there once, when he was there.
WILLIAM ADAMS . I am a clerk in the secretary's office, Inland Revenue Department, Somerset House—I am engaged in the assessment of duties on policies of marine insurance—I am well acquainted with the system of stamping—every marine insurance policy over 3s. 6d. has to be stamped, according to the amount of the insurance, at the Inland Revenue Office, before execution—people bring blank papers, and we stamp them at the office—we don't issue stamps which they can affix—I have examined these thirty-one policies, and I have prepared this statement as to them; it is correct—it shows the duties payable, and the stamps required—the first part has reference to eighteen policies which were stamped properly, but from which stamps have been removed—I found on the other thirteen policies the stamps corresponding individually in value to the stamps with which the eighteen ought to have been stamped—with the exception of two stamps, which are said to have been obtained from missing policies, the stamps correspond in amount and value—the policy of the South British Company, No. 101,127, of 14th February, 1887, the duty on which was
£1 14s. 9d., now bears stamps for 9s. and 9d.—both those bear date 14.2.87, corresponding to the date of the policy—the stamp for £1 5s., the balance of duty, bearing date 4.2.87, has been altered to a stamp for five guineas, and attached to another policy, so that it is both transferred and forged—I came to the conclusion that stamps had been removed from the eighteen and transferred to the thirteen—the stamps on this policy of 6th March, 1890, 108,836A, have been removed from other papers—I came to the conclusion that one stamp for £1 5s., bearing date 27th June, had been removed from a policy of the Adelaide Company, No. 91,517, because it corresponds in date and value; and that two other stamps had been removed from policies No. 110,401 and No. 110,830 of the National Company—for the second and third of those penny stamps had been substituted to cover the vacant place where the stamps were taken from.
JOHN CLEMENT BROWN . I was junior policy clerk from October, 1883, to August, 1889—it was my duty to write out forms of policies under the prisoner's direction, and to see that stamps on the forms were correct—I wrote out these eighteen policies, and they were put into a basket for the prisoner to examine, and they bear his initials as having examined them—to the best of my belief they were properly stamped before they left my hands—I met the prisoner in the Bengal Restaurant on 12th July, and spoke to him about the unpleasantness that had taken place in the South British Company, and he said it had nothing to do with him, but they had taken the names of all the gentlemen in the office, and that mine had been taken.
Cross-examined. The stamps have now been removed from these eighteen policies—they may have been tampered with after they left you—sometimes it was several days after we asked for the stamped policy forms that Magrath gave them to us—that was so in these particular cases—then he put them on the racks of your or my desk, where they were left for several days sometimes before we used them—it would be exceptional if we left them for two or three weeks before making out the policy; sometimes it might have been so—you had a locked desk—Magrath was authorised to issue a stamp on your slip for it—I was absent from the office through a relation being ill, and I was discharged by telegraph.
Re-examined. After the forms were filled in they got into the prisoner's possession—they were properly stamped, as far as I know, when they left my hands—Magrath would often have no stamped paper sufficient for a policy, and then he would have to send out for it.
WALTER SCOTT . I am cashier of the National and South British Insurance Companies—Magrath was clerk in charge of the stamp department—he kept a small stock of stamps for general use, and when a stamp not in stock was required, he made out a docket, which would come to my hands through the messenger Martin—I should give Martin the money to buy the stamp, and he would initial my book for the money, and then get the form stamped—about 21st March, 1890, this docket for a stamp £3 12s. 9d. for the South British Company for reinsurance was brought to me—this is my book with the entry—this is the policy—I gave Martin the money to get it, and he initialled my book—about 29th July, 1889, Martin brought me this docket of that date for
£4 15s. 6d. for special stamps—I gave him the money, and he initialed my book.
CHARLES MARTIN . I am a messenger in the employment of the South British and the National Companies—it is my business to obtain special stands for policies—I have seen these dockets and my signature in the book—I received the money to get the stamps—I could not state positively if I got these policies stamped with stamps for £3 12s. 9d. and £4 15s. 6d. at the Inland Revenue office—I should do it in the order of business, but if I was out the junior would do it—all the moneys I received for stamps I bought stamps with—I initial the amount stamped on the policy form—I do not see my mark on these forms, but in the ordinary course it would be there—when I got policies stamped I gave them to Magrath.
EDWIN JOHN BROWNLOW . lam a clerk in the Inland Revenue Office, Winchester House—I find that stamps have been put on these thirteen policies which have been removed from other material—they are the wrong colour for the year of the policy among other reasons—we change the colours of stamps occasionally, not every year—I have examined the policies stamped with £4 15s. 6d. and £3 12s. 9d., and I have come to the conclusion that the stamps have been removed from other material.
Cross-examined, The only changes in stamps that I know were on 12th August, 1887, and in April, 1889—at Great Winchester Street we put embossed stamps in over print; at Somerset House they put the stamp on with a recording press up to three o'clock, after three o'clock combined stamps are put on, and then it is possible you might have two kinds of stamps—you can keep adding the stamps to make up the amount.
GEORGE WILLOUGHBY CORNELIUS . I am a clerk in the office of the Controller of Stamps, Somerset House, employed in connection with the allowance for spoiled stamps—I am authorised to take declarations that stamps have been spoiled—these three authorities purporting to be signed by Mr. Merriman, and these two declarations for receipts, come from my possession—on 11th April letter D was brought to me, and declaration F was prepared in my presence, and signed by the person bringing the letter—I granted the allowance and handed him postage stamps to the value of £4 15s. 3d.—the declaration includes one stamp of the value of £3 12s. 9d., which was on a marine policy, spoiled material—on 4th July, 1887, I find £4 15s. 6d. is allowed—it is referred to in letter C—all these allowances purport to be made to Mr. Oelrichs, and are signed for by him—payment was made in postage stamps.
Cross-examined. I do not identify you as coming.
DAVID HERBERT BLYTH . I am a clerk in the office of the Controller of Stamps, Somerset House—on 17th May letters B and E were produced to me, and I gave postage stamps value £2 to the person who signed the receipt.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not identify you.
GEORGE EDWIN WARDELL . I am examiner of claims in the office of the South British and National Companies—these documents B, C, D, E, and F are in the prisoner's writing—the signatures to the declarations and the receipts are in his writing—of the three letters purporting to come from Mr. Merriman two are the prisoner's, the other, "C," I am not sure of—in July last year I had occasion to refer to some marine
policies—I received a bundle of policies from Mr. Nicholls, among them was No. 114,468A of the National Company—to the best of my belief that policy is in the prisoner's writing—the stamp on it is dated 14th February, 1887, and purports to be of the value of £5 5s.—it has been altered, the word "five" has been let in, I cannot say what it was before—it has been removed from other material—when I discovered this matter, I pointed out to the prisoner that it did not look like the ordinary stamp, and he replied, "Perhaps it is not, but as the policy is my handwriting, and examined by me, let the matter pass, and don't say anything more about it"—I did not say anything more about it till after these proceedings, and then I told the prisoner I was going to mention it; he said there was no occasion to do so, it would only stir up dirty water; I could please myself whether I did so or not—I told Mr. Merriman—after that the prisoner said I had spoken behind his back; it might be a question between his word and mine.
Cross-examined. You did not advise me to show this policy with the five-guinea stamp to Magrath when I showed it to you first—I did not show it to Magrath, because you asked me to say nothing about it, and show it to nobody, but let it pass—I put the policy back with the others which were in my possession at the time—you made no attempt to stop me mentioning it to Mr. Merriman—you suggested there was no occasion to do so—you did not try to hush the matter up—after I had spoken to Mr. Merriman you came and wanted to know what had transpired—I was not loath to tell you; I did not tell you freely because you had lost your temper—afterwards I asked you to come out and have a cup of tea, and you came out, so that we could have a chat—in passing a claim I do not always check the stamps on the policy, I glance at the policy and see there is a stamp and read the clauses—I assume it has been properly stamped and examined—it did not occur to me to look at the others in my possession; it did not occur to me that there might have been fraud—I should think the signatures of B, C, and D were written by the same man, I cannot say about the bodies, I am not an expert—I know your writing well; I am not sure of C, but the signatures are all the same—I found out that the five-guinea stamp was wrong by accident, it caught my eye.
Re-examined. The claim was two years old when I looked at it; I was looking for another policy—I saw it bore the prisoner's initials—he is supposed to see if policies are properly stamped.
JOHN JAMES NICHOLLS . I have been a clerk in the South British and National offices for about eight years—I am well acquainted with the prisoner's writing—the signatures to these two declarations and receipts and the three authorities purporting to be made by Mr. Merriman are in his writing; two of the authorities are certainly his, the other is, to the best of my belief—on 31st March I prepared a slip for re-insurance by the National Company with the South British, and assessed and entered on it that the stamp duty was £3 12s. 9d.—that risk is insured by the policy No. 108,836A, dated 6th April, 1890, which is in the prisoner's writing—on or about 28th June, 1889, I prepared a slip for re-insurance by the South British with the National Company—I assessed the stamp duty at £4 15s. 6d.—the risk was insured by the policy 115,465A—I prepared all these slips at the end of each month—on 24th June my attention was called to the alteration and removal of stamps—I wanted a clause for
re-insurance, and went to the prisoner and asked him for the clause—he said, "Wait till I come back from lunch"—I said I could not wait, and looked in the drawer for the clause; not seeing it there, I looked in the clause-box, and there I found three re-insurance policies—I saw Id. stamps had been placed on two of these policies—I knew there were no 1d. stamps for colonial insurances, and when the prisoner came back from lunch I said to him, "I hope you can account for these policies being in jour clause-box, as I must speak to Mr. Merriman about it, for I find the stamps have been tampered with"—he said, "Oh, yes; I can account for it," or words to that effect.
Cross-examined. Clauses are kept in the drawers, and a few are put into the box as they are wanted—I helped myself—you did not ask me to hush it up, or to say nothing about it—I had to make out re-insurance policies, and enter them in a book; all that came in from outside it was your duty to check—those in the office having been checked, we treated them as correct—sometimes I brought policies back to you for alterations—I cannot say I ever brought these back because the stamp did not agree with the date—I may have looked at the stamp—if it had no stamp I should not have passed it, because it would strike me directly as being wrong—no penny stamps were used, and if I had seen a penny stamp I should not have passed the policy—I cannot remember your mentioning about a sixpenny stamp; I will not swear you did not—I am not sure "C" is in the same writing as "B" and "D," because it is written in a different style—I cannot swear to "C," but to the best of my belief it is your writing.
Re-examined. The three policies I found in the clause-box are all included in the thirty-one; they are the only policies that bear the penny stamp.
HENRY MOORE (Inspector C. I. D) I made inquiries into this case—on 7th and 10th July I saw the prisoner at Jerusalem Chambers, and drew his attention to the two policies 108,836A and 114,468A—he made this statement, which I took down in writing:—"I, Frederick William Theodore Oelrichs, say that for the past six years I have been in the employ of the South British and National Insurance Companies, of the above address, five years of which I have been policy clerk and examiner. It was my duty to examine all policies, whether made up by me or not. I used to receive all policies in the blank form after they had been duly stamped from Magrath. The policy No. 108,836A of the South British Company, produced, was duly filled in by myself, and the stands now upon it purporting to be of the value of £3 12s. 9d. are the same as were affixed when I received it from Magrath. It escaped my attention when examining the policy that the stamps were not genuine, and the first I knew of it was about ten days ago, when my attention was called to it by Mr. Merriman, who at the time pointed out other similar cases of fraud. At this time, however, Magrath had been dismissed. I remember the latter end of last year there was an occasion to refer to policy No. 114,468A, which was dated 4th February, 1889, and my attention was then called to a fictitious stamp affixed to that policy purporting to be of the value of £5 5s., and this stamp is now also in the same condition as when I received it from Magrath. I did not notice at the time I filled in the form that the stamp was not genuine, and, when it was discovered, I did
not mention it to the manager, as I feared dismissal.—F. W. T. OELRICHS."
WILLIAM JOHN FLUISTER (Detective Sergeant, City). On 19th July I received a warrant for the prisoner's apprehension, and with it I went with Moore to Jerusalem Chambers, and apprehended the prisoner—I said to him, "I hold a warrant for your apprehension"—I read it—he said nothing—I took him into custody—after he was in the cells, I said I should have to go to his house and search his place—he said, "You will see my mother there, tell her I am implicated in some obliterated stamps"—I did not find anything there.
The Prisoner, in his defence, reviewed the evidence; he denied hating written the letters, or having any knowledge of the offence, and he charged Magrath with having removed the stamps.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GILL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. F. FULTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 8th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. K. FRITH Defended Blaby.
JESSIE CROWSDALE . I am the niece of James Gibbons, who keeps the Monarch public-house, Chalk Farm Road—on 15th August, about halfpast five, the two prisoners came in with a woman, and Stanley called for some liquor, price fourpence halfpenny, and put a florin on the counter—I gave him 1s. 7 1/2 d. change, and put the florin on a shelf where there was no other florin—shortly afterwards my sister Maud, who was serving, said in the prisoners' hearing, "They have given me a bad one"—I did not hear either of them say anything.
Cross-examined by Stanley. I put the coin on the shelf, and went out of the bar for about two minutes—there was other money on the shelf, but no other florin—it had been taken off the shelf when I came back, but I am quite sure this is the same florin—my sister showed it to me when I came back—I am positive it was a florin I took, and not a shilling—my sister saw you give it to me.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. My sister Maud is here; my other sister did not go to the Police-court—neither of my sisters said that it was
Stanley who gave me the coin and not Blaby—the sister who is not here detected one coin to be bad—no one held the prisoners, but the doors were locked.
MAUD CROWSDALE . I am a sister of the last witness—I saw the two prisoners in the bar on 15th August—I served Blaby with some cigars on August 15th; he paid with a bad florin—I said, "This is a bad florin you have given me"—he said, "Is it?"—he said, "It is not bad," and put down a sixpence—I gave him threepence change, and gave the florin to the barman, who put it on the counter, and Blaby took it up—my sister then said, in the prisoners' hearing, "This one is bad"—that was the one she had taken—I saw her take it from the shelf—I called Mr. Gibbons, and said to the barman, "Go and fetch a policeman"—I cannot say whether the prisoners heard that—both the doors were shut and bolted.
Cross-examined by Stanley. I did not hear you tell anyone that it was a shilling you gave—I did not hear you ask the barman to fetch a policeman to search you.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Neither the barman nor my sister Amelia, who detected one of the coins, is here—the barman has never been called as a witness.
JAMES GIBBONS . I keep the Monarch public-house, Chalk Farm Road—on August 15th I was called into the bar by my niece Amelia, and my niece Maud showed me a bad florin—the two prisoners were there—Maud said that Jessie had taken a bad florin and put it on the ledge, and given 1s. 7 1/2 d. change—she pointed out one of the prisoners, but I do not recollect which—one of them, I think it was Stanley, said that he had given me a shilling—I said I should lock them up, sent the barman for a constable, fastened one of the doors, and told the barman to stand at the other, which he did, and called a constable, and I gave the prisoners in custody with the coins.
MORGAN JENKINS (Policeman S 412). The two prisoners and a woman were given into my custody; the woman was discharged by the Magistrate—Mr. Gibbons said, "These people have been in here passing bad money; I shall charge them"—Blaby said, "I paid for the first drinks with a shilling; I did not give any florin"—Stanley said, "I did not know it was bad, governor"—Mr. Gibbons was holding a florin in his hand, looking at it, and I took another from Blaby's hand; this is it—I searched Blaby, and found a half-crown, two shillings, and sevenpence halfpenny.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I have not seen Mr. Gage, of Fitzroy Place—I went there, but failed to get an answer—Blaby has been working there eight or nine months as a plumber and decorator—he was seven years in the gold refining business; he has been in custody since August 15th—all that I have discovered is in his favour—he is a hardworking man; no bad coin or tissue paper was found on him.
FREDERICK TAMPLIN (Policeman S 400). I took Blaby in custody, and found on him a shilling, a sixpence, and six pence—he said he had given a shilling and not a florin, in payment for three glasses of beer—there was no discussion as to whether it was not cigars—I received this counterfeit coin from the landlord.
Stanley, in his defence, stated that Blaby was his brother-in-law; that 1s. went into the house with him, and called for two, glasses of beer, for which he tendered a shilling, and then for some cigars, for which he tendered a florin, and when it was found to be bad, which he did not know, he paid with a sixpence,(Blaby's brother gave him a good character.)
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted
ANNIE MARIA HISCOCK . My husband is a grocer of Maiden Lane, Strand—on 8th August, about 11 p.m., I served the prisoner with a penny bottle of ginger beer—he gave me a shilling; I gave him elevenpence change, and he left—I put the shilling in my pocket, and tendered it next morning when I went to market, and it was broken, and the pieces returned to me—I gave them to my husband—on 11th August, between 11 and 12 p.m., I was sitting facing the shop, and saw the prisoner go in; I recognised him, and went across, and my husband was asking for his change back—the prisoner gave it back, and asked my husband for the shilling—he said, no; he would lock him up—I looked for a policeman, and the prisoner went down home—he lives in Pullens Court—the constable brought him back—I am sure he is the man who came on 8th August—I did not know his address then.
THOMAS HISCOCK . I am the husband of the last witness—on 11th August, after 11 p.m., the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of cheese, and gave me 1s.—I gave him 11d., and then said, "This is a bad one"—he asked me to give it back to him—I said, "No"—my wife had given me these two pieces of a shilling three nights before—the prisoner was brought back about 12.30, and given in custody.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not know you as a customer.
HENRY TURNER (Policeman M 52). Mrs. Hiscock complained to me, and, after searching for an hour and a quarter, I found the prisoner with a number of men in Bell Inn Court, Strand, three minutes' walk from the shop—I called him out and told him I should take him to 23, Maiden Lane—his mother came up and put her arms round his neck, and said he should not go—he said, "Don't be stupid; if you want to do anything, go up and see them before I get there"—I took him back to the shop, and they both said he was the man—his mother had got there before us, and was talking to Mr. Hiscock, who said, "I don't mink that is the man; I shan't charge him"—I took him to Bow Street Station, and both the witnesses came and identified him as the man who passed the coins, but refused to sign the charge-sheet—I searched him at the shop, but round nothing.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he did not know that the second shilling was bad, and did not remember going into the shop on the 8th.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of larceny at Westminster on March 5th, 1890.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 9th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
640. BENJAMIN BEST (39) , to feloniously forging and uttering three postal orders, and also to stealing eight printed forms of orders.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
641. ALBERT GEORGE COOPER (23) , to three indictments for stealing a letter containing a postal order for 15s., another letter containing three postal orders and a £5 bank-note, whilst employed in the Post Office.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
642. WILLIAM EDWARD MARSHAM (22) , to two indictments for stealing two letters containing postal orders, whilst employed in the Post Office.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
643. JOHN THOMAS PARKER NANCE (26) , to four indictments for stealing letters containing postal orders, whilst employed in the Post Office.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
644. WILLIAM EDWARD CHAMP (28) , to two indictments for stealing letters containing postal orders, whilst employed in the Post Office.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
645. WILLIAM KINGSFORD (39) and MARY KINGSFORD (34) were indicted for feloniously forging and uttering two receipts for 5s. WILLIAM KINGSFORD PLEADED GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. No evidence was offered against MARY KINGSFORD.— NOT GUILTY .
646. JOHN GABIN (60), JOSEPH PARKS (25), JAMES VAUGHAN (33), RICHARD REYNOLDS (50), and JANE REYNOLDS (24) , Feloniously breaking and entering the shop of Robert Dicks and others, and stealing eighty pairs of boots, their property. Second County for feloniously receiving the same.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. RAYMOND appeared for Vaughan, and MR. ROCKINGHAM GILL for Richard and Jane Reynolds.
WILLIAM PILE . I am manager to Robert and James Dicks, boot manufacturers, of 30, Holborn—on 17th July last I left the premises safe at half-past eight p.m.—I locked the shop door and also the gate outside the shop door—next morning at nine, when I arrived at the shop, I found the gate unlocked and the door broken open, and I missed from the premises sixty-five pairs of boots, to the value of about £58—I identify the two pairs of boots, now produced, as ours, and as forming part of the sixty-five that were stolen on this occasion.
Cross-examined by Gabin. There are no other boots like these; they are our workmanship, and my own writing is on the sole of one of them; one pair has been worn—this pair was made to measure for a gentleman—I have sole charge of the business; we have a salesman, and a shopwoman, and a lad—what they sell is put down on the stock sheet.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. Our business is very large—I see every pair of boots as they come in—they come in in large quantities, and are put in stock; we get a few from Northampton—this pair was not made by us, but to our special order, and the order number is inside.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I saw these boots in the shop on the evening of the 17th; they are new; they have been worn once, I should say.
JNO. NICHOLSON (City Policeman 251). About twenty minutes past twelve in the early morning of 18th July, in consequence of something that was said to me, I went and made an examination of Messrs. Dicks' premises; I found the front gate open, and the door forced open—I went into the shop, and saw several boots lying about the floor—I at once sent a message to the police-station—about half-past one the same morning I saw the witness, Chapman, on the Holborn rank, and took him to the station, where he made a statement.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I am always on night duty in Holborn—there is very little traffic there late at night—on this particular night it was raining very heavily.
FREDERICK THOMPSON . I am an oilman's assistant—on 17th July, about a quarter of an hour after midnight, I was in Fetter Lane—I saw a four-wheeled cab coming into Fetter Lane from Holborn; there was no one on it but the cabman—I saw one man at one corner of Fetter Lane and one at the other corner beckoning to the cabman into Fetter Lane; as soon as the cab stopped in Fetter Lane I saw a boy come across from the other side of the road, and then I heard one of the men say, "Come on," and as I turned round I saw two men with bags on their shoulders—I did not see where they came from, they came up to the cab, and all four got in with the bags; they looked like Urge leather bags, similar to sailors' bags or sacks, I believe they were full, they looked full—the cab drove straight down Fetter Lane towards Fleet Street—three men got inside the cab and I got outside—in consequence of what I had seen, as I passed the cab I took the number and communicated with the policeman on the beat.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. This was a very stormy night; I had been to a friend's and stopped there on account of the storm, and as it did not abate I had to walk home through it—I stood at the corner of Holborn and Fetter Lane—I first saw the cab as I got to the corner—I saw four men altogether and a boy.
GEORGE BOTTEN (City Policeman 261). I was on duty in Holborn on the night of 17th July, right opposite Mr. Dicks' shop—it was a very bad night—about midnight I saw a man and a boy standing right opposite Mr. Dicks' shop at De Bolla's restaurant, which was closed—I identified the boy Hall afterwards; he was discharged by the Magistrate—I proceeded along my beat and returned in about ten minutes, and they were then gone.
THOMAS HENRY CHAPMAN . I am a cab-driver, and drive a four-wheeled cab; I remember the night of 17th July, it was a very stormy night—soon after twelve I was on the rank on Holborn Hill, and was hailed by the prisoner Reynolds; he came to the rank and called me to take up in Fetter Lane; I drove there, and pulled up—he asked me to go and have a drink, and being a rough night, I went in; when I came out I saw three men in the cab—Reynolds got on the box, he ordered me over Westminster Bridge, and told me to stop at the corner of the New Cut to have another drink, but the house was closed—he paid me 3s., and we went to have a drink—when we came out there was only one man left in the cab—he told me to take them on to Hercules Buildings, Westminster Bridge Road—I took them there, and left them there, Reynolds and one other man—I did not then see anything in their hands—one of them had a sack or bag on his shoulder; it looked full—I could not recognise which
man had it—Reynolds had nothing; it was the other man with him—the same night a City policeman spoke to me on the rank, and a few days afterwards I was taken to the Police-station; I there picked him out from a number of other men.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I was called off the rank by Reynolds—he said, "Come round and take up in Fetter Lane"; nobody in Fetter Lane beckoned me—I had a full opportunity of recognising Reynolds—I was discharged in Hercules Buildings; Reynolds paid me my fare there; that was not far from the Police-station.
ELIZABETH BATES . I am married; I am landlady of 74, Webber Row—the two Reynolds were tenants of ours—the man took the room at 4s. per week, on 7th July—they were there up to the 21st—they occupied one room; a boy named Hall was taken from the place, but he did not lodge there, he visited there; he was discharged at the Police-court—I have seen Vaughan there frequently—I did not know his name.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. I did not know he was employed—there was nothing suspicious about him; he came like an ordinary man calling—there was nothing suspicious about anyone else there.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The Reynolds were there three weeks—I had no occasion to complain of them—when Vaughan was in Reynolds' company the female prisoner went out of the room, and was out the whole time—I don't know that Reynolds was a scene shifter at a theatre—he told me so—I can't remember what time he came home on the Thursday; I was in bed; we were generally asleep when he came home—they were in the habit of coming home very late.
Re-examined. I have no idea how the property that was found there came there—Reynolds kept late hours all the time he was there; about one or half-past—Vaughan came at different times; sometimes in the morning, sometimes dinner times, all times.
MARY DESMOND . I am a widow, and live at 120, Cornwall Road, New Cnt—on 7th July I let a room to Vaughan; Reynolds was with him at the time—Vaughan told me he was a printer—he remained till 21st July, when he was arrested—one night he did not sleep there; whether it was on the Monday or not I don't know.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. He did not tell me that he was out of a situation, he told me that he worked in Fleet Street—we had other lodgers; he acted just like any other lodger—I never noticed anything that led me to suspect anything—I do not know what hours he kept.
ANNIE DESMOND . I am the daughter of the last witness—I live with her at 120, Cornwall Road—Vaughan occupied a room there up to the time of his arrest—Parks visited him, also Gabin—I let them in once, they did not come together—I could not say how many times they came, it was more than once—I did not know Parks by name.
Cross-examined by Gabin. I can't say how long ago it was when I saw you call, it was one morning between eight and nine—I believe you are the man—I do not see any other man like you.
Cross-examined by Parks. I saw you before I saw you at our house that morning—I never drank with you that I know of, neither on Ludgate Hill or anywhere else.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. I did not know Parks by any name.
I did not know him as "Thick lips" till I heard him called so on the day of his arrest by the detectives.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective L). I know all the prisoners—in consequence of information, for some little time prior to 21st July I kept observation both on 74, Webber Row, and 120, Cornwall Road, and also on the prisoners—I have seen them together; I made a note in my book of the occasions—on 15th July I saw Gabin go to 120, Cornwall Road, between seven and eight at night, I saw him leave shortly afterwards in company with Parks and Vaughan; they went to the Northumberland Arms, Northumberland Street, Strand, where they joined the other prisoners—on 17th July I saw Gabin, Parks, and Vaughan leave 120, Cornwall Road, between seven and eight in the evening, and go to the Glass House public-house in Stamford Street, Waterloo Road, where the two Reynolds were—on both occasions I was accompanied by Detective Cox—I kept observation on 74, Webber Road, where the Reynolds lived—I have seen the Reynolds go in and out there, also the boy Hall and another man—I have not seen the other prisoners there—on the morning of 20th July, about seven, I went with two other officers to Webber Row—I went through the front door, which was open, up to the first-floor front—I knocked at the door—someone called out, "Who is there?"—I replied, "Police; open the door"—I heard the noise of a window being raised—Detective Kamber went downstairs—Cox and I opened the door, as they refused—on getting into the room I saw the lad Hall getting out of the window—Reynolds was sitting on the side of the bed; the female was standing in the middle of the room dressing—I told them that we were police officers, and we should arrest them on suspicion of having stolen property in their possession, the proceeds of various burglaries—Reynolds said, "What do you mean?"—I said, "You have heard what I said: you will consider yourself in custody"—the female prisoner said, "A nice thing you have done with me, living with you, but I am not going away for you"—they dressed, and we conveyed them to Kennington Road Station, after locking up the room—we then returned and made a search—we found this new pair of boots, six new carpenter's rules, two other pairs of boots, which had been worn, three new sunshades, two sheets, one counterpane, two coats, two pairs of trousers, two paper knives, an ornament, a box containing a tooth brush, a piece of a silver albert, two fur muffs, a fur rug, four fur Victorias, one fur collaret, five pieces of fur, a silk sash, a piece of lace, two brushes, a card-case, three pairs of gloves, a revolver, a bunch of keys, also a box which has been since identified—various of these articles have been identified as having been stolen from six different premises between 23rd June and 18th July—Cox showed the revolver to Reynolds, and he said, "A b—good job it was not loaded, or we should have shot all of you dead as you came upstairs"—we put the property in the station, and at once went to 120, Cornwall Road; we got there about a quarter to eight—I went through the front door, which was open, to the first floor back room—the door was fastened, but not locked; the key was outside—I entered, and saw Vaughan and Parks lying on the bed partly dressed, and Gabin sitting by the side of the bed apparently asleep, dressed, but he had his boots off—we roused them up, and said we were police officers, and should arrest them on suspicion of being joined with others already
in custody; they made no reply—I asked to whom the room belonged; no one answered—they were taken to Kennington Road Station—there they were again asked to whom the room belonged—Vaughan said, "I engaged the room"—I said, "We shall go back and search it"—we did so, and found five coats, three pairs of trousers, three vests, four pairs of boots, a razor, three brushes, a comb, a pair of spats, a barometer, a timepiece, two bottles of scent, four pawntickets, one packet of cards with a gentleman's name on them (Lieutenant B—, of Royal Navy), two coats, one umbrella, and a silk hat—the greater portion of that property has been identified as part proceeds of various burglaries between 23rd June and 18th July—when we had got all the prisoners together, they were formally charged on suspicion of stealing the various articles—Reynolds said, "You can only charge me with unlawful possession"—Vaughan and Parks said, "You ought to charge us with receiving"—they were then taken before the Magistrate and remanded.
Cross-examined by Gabin. When I went to 120 I did not say to you, "I don't want you at all"—I said, "You had better come to the station and see," and I told you there what you would be charged with.
Cross-examined by MR. RAYMOND. I made these notes as soon as I had given my evidence, also at the station—it was not all written at the same time, it is in pencil—I did nothing more besides watching these men; I was acting under the inspector's direction—I met another man who was wanted while I was about this, and he was arrested shortly after; he was a companion of the prisoners—I was watching these men, roughly speaking, for about a week—I saw these men almost daily together—I watched them walking about and meeting each other—I saw enough to convince me they were not getting an honest living; I noticed that they were spending money freely; I saw them go into public-houses—I went in also, three or four times, into the George, in Waterloo Road, the Glass House, in Stamford Street, the York Hotel, York Road, and the Northumberland Arms—I went into all four, and stopped it might be five or ten minutes; I had something to drink—two of the prisoners came into the same bar where I was one night; a man named Pearson was with Parks—I know "Scar-faced Charley" by having him in custody—to my knowledge nothing was said by Vaughan about pawntickets—I did not hear that he had bought some pawntickets from "Scar-faced Charley"—I did not arrest Vaughan, other officers did—I scarcely exchanged two words with him—I have seen "Scar-faced Charley" with thieves—I have not seen him since the prisoners were arrested—I have not looked for him—I have no charge against him—I did not search his house—I saw a box at 120, Cornwall Road—I did not force it open; it came open—it was an old wooden box—I can tell you the contents of it if you wish to know.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I did not mention the box at the policecourt—I did not think it necessary—I made these notes as soon as I could after the occurrences.
Re-examined, I found a pawnticket relating to a pair of man's boots pledged for 5s., on 23rd June, 1890, in the name of J. Reynolds—they have been identified by Mr. Daniel, of Craven Street, Strand, as forming part of property stolen from his premises on that very day—I also found at Webber Row a pawnticket relating to a Gladstone bag—that bag has been identified by Mr. Smedley, of Craven Street, as stolen on 5th July,
and pledged on the 7th in the name of John Reynolds—a sealskin jacket was afterwards produced by a pawnbroker, which was identified by Miss Kellar, of 6, Adelaide Street, Strand, which was stolen on 10th July, and Reynolds was identified as pledging it—I also found a ticket for a gent's umbrella at 120, Cornwall Road, dated 9th July, 1890—that was identified by Mr. Rosenberg, of 4, Panton Street, as part of property stolen from his premises on that very day.
HARRY SUMMER DANIELS . I am an architect, of 6, Smith Square, Westminster—up to 21st June I lived at 28, Craven Street, Strand—on that day I left for good about half-past eleven p.m., closing the streetdoor after me; it shuts with a latch—nobody else lived in the house—about 6.30, on 23rd June, I went back and found a trunk with a quantity of my property in it had been turned out, and things taken away—my rooms were not locked; the door was all right—I lost these three shirts, three handkerchiefs, a pair of boots, and two pairs of trousers—in addition, I have lost a lot of jewellery and money, and other clothing.
By MR. GILL. The shirts and handkerchiefs are marked with my name.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Re-examined). I found these two pairs of trousers and the handkerchief at 120, Cornwall Road, and the shirt and the other handkerchief and the pawnticket relating to the boots at 74, Webber Row.
GEORGE PALMER SMEDLEY . I am a draughtsman, working with Mr. Waldron, a civil engineer, on the second floor of 16, Craven Street, Strand—on Saturday, 5th July, about half-past five, I left there—on Monday, 7th July, on my arrival, I found the street-door and our officedoor had been broken open—among other things I missed some clothes, a Gladstone bag, and a collar—these are the bag and collar—the collar is marked with my name.
MARTHA KELLAR . I am unmarried, and reside at Beeches Street, City Road—these furs belong to me and my sister—I saw them safe on Wednesday, 9th July—on the morning of the 10th when I arrived, I found the doors broken open, and property, to the value of £60, stolen—I identify this sealskin jacket, two bearskin muffs, and these other goods as our property.
Cross-examined. It is my sister's business; I manage it entirely; she has nothing to do with it—I know these goods by the workmanship; we are the manufacturers; there is a difference between them and the way in which other things are made—I was brought up in the business.
SIMON ROSENBERG . I am a hairdresser, at 4, Panton Street, Haymarket—on 8th July, I left my shop safely locked up at a quarter to nine p.m., and a little before eight next morning I found it had been broken into, and I missed a quantity of goods, among them these four razors,
two brushes, two bottles with scent, four combs, a lady's umbrella, and another umbrella, and I missed my overcoat.
Cross-examined. I have assistants; they do not sell things without my knowledge—two of these razors I have had over nine years—other people besides me sell combs and scent, but I know exactly what I missed.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Re-examined). I found these three razors, three combs, and a bottle of scent at 74, Webber Row; two brushes, one razor in a case, a comb, two bottles of scent, and an umbrella, and a ticket of another umbrella, at 120, Cornwall Road.
EDWARD WALTON . I live at 54, Patshull Road, Kentish Town—on 8th July I was clerk to a commission agent, at 4, Panton Street, Haymarket—I left the office at half-past three, my employer was there then—next morning, when I came at a quarter past ten, I found the door broken open—I missed three overcoats and Inverness capes—these are they—they are worth £10 altogether.
WILLIAM ARTHUR HARRISON . I am assistant to a chemist at 30, Southampton Street, Strand—on Saturday, 12th July, this iron box was safe in my room at the top of the house at 11 a.m.—I missed it about half-past eight the same evening with its contents, books, clothes, and other things—the street door and the staircase are left open on the Saturday till Mr. Kendal, on the first floor, leaves, when it is supposed to be closed—I have seen some of the books.
DAVID COX (Detective Constable). I was one of the officers who arrested the prisoners—a few days ago I received a communication from Parks, in consequence of which I went with Inspector Harvey to see him in prison—he was about to speak to us—Harvey cautioned him, and told him whatever he said we should take down in writing, and hand to the Treasury—we made no promises—he made a statement, which Harvey took down in writing—I asked if he was willing to sign it, and he signed it—this is the statement:—"I wish to give some information to the police, but I don't want my mates to know anything of it. The reason I wish to give it is because these here people deny all knowledge of me, and they refuse to do anything for me. I have wrote them letters, and they have not even answered them. Mr. Bob Stone, of the Dials, the second barber's shop, bought part of the furs for £8; the other half Mrs. Marks, of Great Wild Street, Drury Lane, bought for £8 10s. Mr. Stock or, jeweller, of Waterloo Road, bought the melton coat lined with fur for £8, and he also bought Lieutenant Blunt's gold medals for £3 15s. Mr. Edwards, a bootmaker, in a turning off Great Queen Street, next to a paper shop, bought forty-seven pairs of boots for £8. They were stolen from a Mr. Amsden, Leicester Square, about 4th July last, by Percy Vaughan (or Harrington). I was not concerned with him in that job. The seventy pairs of boots stolen from Dicks, Holborn, what we are charged with, were actually packed up by Vaughan, Gabin, and myself. Reynolds and the boy were outside keeping watch. They were sold to Edwards for £10. Vaughan always took the money and
shared it out. About two months ago, it was on the night of the police riot at Bow Street, me, Vaughan, and Reynolds went up the Strand, and seen a cigar shop. Vaughan put the door in, and a policeman, 35 CR, came up and asked Vaughan what he was doing; he (Vaughan) said, ‘I suppose I can stand at my own door.' I ran away. The next morning I saw Vaughan and Reynolds in a lodginghouse in Westminster Road; they were smoking cigars, and they both told me that they took fifty boxes of cigars, etc., and sold them to Mr. Bob Stone for 5s. a box. The reason I ran away was that it was the first time I have ever been engaged in a burst, and I felt frightened. Reynolds said to me when I said I was frightened that he would blow my brains out if I turned copper, and he showed me a revolver that he was carrying. About half-past four on the morning we were arrested, me, Vaughan, and Gabin went to Rider Street, St. James's. He forced the lock off (I mean Vaughan), and made such a noise that I went away. I met them again about an hour and a half after in Trafalgar Square; they were carrying the time-piece and boots between them. About the fourth or fifth of July last me, Gabin, Vaughan, Reynolds, and Scar-faced Charlie, and the boy Reynolds went to a jeweller's shop, corner of Hanway Street, Oxford Street. We lifted up the grating, and they all went in except me, and I remained at the opposite side of the street until a policeman ordered me away at half-past one in the morning. I did not see anything of them again for three days, when I met Vaughan at the lodging-house, and we laughed at the account that appeared in the papers. Vaughan said that they took the safe to Stacker's, who gave them £28 on account. I have since seen Stocker and asked him for my share. He told me that it was nothing to do with me, and he should give me nothing at all. I wrote to him yesterday, but he has not yet answered my letter. The woman, Jane Reynolds, has never had anything to do with these jobs; she only used to have a drink with us in the public-house. I only knew Reynolds about three weeks before I was arrested; I have known Vaughan as Percy for years. I only knew Gabin about two or three weeks before we were took. Tommy Crane and Charlie introduced me to Gabin, and said he was an expert burglar; but when he (Gabin) was inside a place he was all of a shake, and Vaughan told him in Dick's shop that he would brain him with the stick if he did not keep himself quiet, as he was making a noise with his mouth as though he was croaking. I don't know Kelly, but I have known Paddy Shea for years; we have only been about together since the 25th June last. I have made this statement of my own free will; I have been promised nothing, neither have I been threatened; but my mates have done nothing for me, and I am told that they are keeping people from coming to see me, so I am doing this for the truth to be known." Gabin, in his defence, said he knew nothing of half the cases against him; that he never broke into a house; that Nicholls never saw him on 16th or 17th July; and that when he took the others he said he did not want him.
PAEKS— GUILTY . GABIN, VAUGHAN, and EICHAED REYNOLDS— GUILTY of Receiving.
JANE REYNOLDS— NOT GUILTY .
There were other indictments against the prisoners (see Surrey Cases).
No evidence was offered by the Prosecution— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 9th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
650. WILLIAM BOND (36) , To burglary in the dwelling-house of James Lefevre, and stealing two coats, a pocket-book, and other articles— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
651. CHARLES BETHELL (21) , Feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after a conviction of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin on 23rd April, 1888. The prisoner having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty, they found that verdict — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
STEPHEN BAKER (City Policeman 315). On 19th August, about eleven p.m., I was in the Old Bailey with Underwood, and saw the prisoners together—Brooks left Batt, and went into the Pitt's Head—Batt walked on towards the Viaduct—I followed Brooks in and heard him ask for a half of ale, a female served him; he tendered a shilling—she said, "What do you call this? This is a bad one"—he said, "Is it?"—I then walked outside, and he came out and joined Batt at the corner of Fleet Lane, about thirty yards from the house—we followed them—Brooks went into the George public-house at the corner of Fleet Lane—I went into the next compartment and saw him standing in the bar, but there were so many people that he came out—I went in and spoke to the barmaid, and then followed him—he joined Barnes; they stood talking a few minutes, and then walked to the Viaduct Tavern at the corner of Newgate Street—they both went in, and I went into the next compartment, and heard Batt ask for a half of ale; he tendered a penny—Brooks stood at the back of the bar—Batt came out and crossed the road towards St. Sepulchre's Church; he stood a few minutes, crossed to Brooks, when he came out and spoke to him; Brooks looked into the White Hart, and crossed the road again to Batt, and they both went into the Plough at one door and came out at another without having any drink—they stood talking, and we said, "We are police officers; we want that counterfeit shilling you have been trying to pass at public-houses"—they said, "We don't know what you mean"—Brooks said, "We will go to the station and be searched"—we took them to the station, and I found this shilling in Brooks' coattail pocket—I saw Underwood search Batt and find these four shillings
done up in tissue paper—Brooks said, "I gave three shillings for these old coins at the Sun Dial public-house"—Batt corrected him, and said, "We gave half-a-crown for them"—some salt was found on Batt—Brooks was sober.
Cross-examined by Brooks. I did not see you attempt to utter any of these old silver coins—you did not tell me you were under the influence of drink—you said that it was a mistake you uttering the coin at the Pitt's Head—you did not pay for the ale, but you had fourpenee on you—you never had any drink at the other two houses.
LILY ASHLEY . I am barmaid at the Pitt's Head—on August 19th, about 11 p. m, I served Brooks with some ale, he offered me this bad shilling; I said, "What do you call this? it is bad"—he said, "Oh, no; put it in the tester"—I said, "There is no need to do that, I can feel it is bad without that"—he said, "I know where I got it; I will take it back"—I let him have it, but took the ale away—a constable then spoke to me.
Cross-examined by Brooks. I thought you were under the influence of liquor; you staggered.
FLORENCE STAINES . I am barmaid at the George, Old Bailey—on August 19th, a few minutes after eleven o'clock, Broods came in for some ale, and gave me a shilling—I told him it was not good, and asked if he had any more money on him—he said, "No"—I took the ale away; he took up the shilling, and walked out without drinking the ale.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin at H.M. Mint—these are five old copper farthings of George IV., William IV., and Victoria, which have been silvered—they have been rubbed down, and there is milling round them—they are frightfully rough, almost primitive—it is difficult to say what they represent.
Brooks' Statement before the Magistrate: "We bought those coins jointly. We bought them as old silver coins."
The prisoners repeated this statement as their defence.
GUILTY .—BROOKS — Ten Months' Hard Labour. BATT*— Ten Months' Without Hard Labour, having an injury to his hand.
The prisoner having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty, they found that verdict.—Judgment respited.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. BURNEE Defended.
GEORGE ROWLAND . The prisoner is my wife—we lived at 39, Garville Road, Canning Town—I am a carpenter—on 25th July my wife met me in the street between 7 and 8 p.m., and I refused her any money as she was keeping company with people I did not care about—she said, "Are you going to give me any bleeding money?"—I said, "You cannot have any money from me while you are drinking; I was going home, I shan't go now, I will go and have a glass of ale," but I did not—I went home, and she followed me in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards—she had been drinking—she
went to a pan of boiling water and said, "You can't have that pan"—my daughter got me by my left hand and Smith by my right, and the prisoner got a chopper and made a blow at my head—Smith let go of me and saved the chopper, but it hit my hat—there were five persons present—Adams, who came in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after me said, "We don't want any row here"—I turned to walk out, and the prisoner threw this plate at me; I saw it in her hand—I bled badly, and went to the dispensary—I was sober.
Cross-examined. We have been married sixteen years, and have seven or eight children—I deserted her once for four weeks—she had two children then—after that she left me for nearly two years—she applied to the parish authorities—I got a month for assaulting her; she said that I took up a knife, but I never did; that is nine or ten years ago—since that I have Only assaulted her in self-defence—she only aims things at me when she is drunk, and on this occasion she had been drinking from the Wednesday night—I had been into several public-houses—when I saw her in the street she said, "Have you pawned the clothes and spent the money?"—I said, "Yes, I have saved you the trouble"—I had given them to Mr. Adams to pawn on the Monday; he had been with me the greater part of the day—I was walking about with money in my pocket—Adams lives opposite—when my wife came into the kitchen she demanded money, and said, "Are you going to give me something to eat?"—I did not say," Here is aloaf, eat," I said, "You can come and have a share of what we are having"—I said to my daughter, "Are you going to see me killed?" and struck her—she is thirteen or fourteen—that was the first time I had struck her—I did not use bad language to my wife—I did not call her a cow, or say that I would pay her; she had been out all night, I did not know the reason of that.
HENRY SMITH . I am a carpenter, of 6, Harrington Street, Camden Town—on Friday, 25th July, about 8 p.m., I went to Rowland's house he and his wife, and daughter, and Adams were in the room—Rowland and his wife were rowing about money matters, and he knocked her down in a corner with his fist—I am certain he struck her, he did not shove her—the daughter pulled him off her, and she got up and went to the back yard and came in with a meat chopper and struck at him, but I took it from her, and said to Rowland, "You had better be quiet, I must go," and immediately a plate was thrown at my head—I did not see who threw it—it cut Rowland's ear, which was hanging down, and I told him he had better go to the dispensary—the prisoner was inside the kitchen when the plate was thrown, 7 or 8 ft. from her husband—the plate might have hit me the same as it hit him.
Cross-examined. I went in to get some tools I had lent him—there was no window, but the prisoner looked through the window-sash and said, "Don't you come out here"—I have said, "I did not see Mrs. Rowland attempting to strike her husband with the chopper, but she held it up as if to defend herself; a minute before the plate was thrown I was trying to keep back Rowland from getting at his wife"—she had complained that he gave her no food, and had to take a fork to the marine-store dealers to get some milk for her children.
Re-examined. I was separating them two or three minutes before the plate was thrown—Rowland was outside the kitchen when the plate was thrown; he was on his way to the staircase, but it was dark—the last
time I saw him he was standing still—the plate was thrown in the kitchen.
ROBERT ADAMS . I am a carpenter, of 10, Argyle Street, opposite the Rowlands—on 25th July, between eight and nine p.m., I was at Rowland's house—he and his daughter were there—the prisoner came in a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after me—they got wrangling about money matters, and she went into the back yard, brought a chopper, and made hits at him—Smith took it from her, gave her a shove, and she fell under the table—I saw her get up—Smith stood between them—I said, "George, you had better take my advice and come outside with me"—he said, "All right, Bob, I will come out"—he was in the kitchen when the plate was thrown—I did not see who threw it—he said, "Good God, my ear is off"—I took him to the surgery, and from there to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I had lent him my best clothes that he might pawn his, I pawned them for him for 6s. 6d. about 11 o'clock that morning—after that we went to the Freemasons' Arms, and then for a walk for some hours—we were together till 6 p.m., or later—we went into two or three public-houses and saw the prisoner in the Royal Albert between six and seven o'clock—she complained that they were starving at home, and of my having lent my clothes to Rowland to get drink—I was going to have some haddock with her husband, and was eating at the time she came in—I was present when he purchased the haddock and a loaf, out of the 6s. 6d.
ANNIE ROWLAND . I am 15 years old, and am the prisoner's daughter—we live at 39, Garville Road, Canning Town—on 25th July, I came home after my father and before my mother—my father was the worse for drink; my mother was sober—there was a quarrel about money—my mother was in the yard, and they were quarrelling through the window, and she had a chopper in her hand—she brought it into the kitchen, and my father took her by her throat and put her into a corner of the room; she screamed, and Mr. Smith and I pulled my father off her and she got up—Mr. Adams said, "Come on out, George"—he was then inside the kitchen, he did not attempt to come out—I saw a plate going, but did not see who threw it.
Cross-examined. Adams was the worse for drink—the words my mother had with my father were about his pawning her clothes and drinking the money—my father called me a bad name and started kicking me—Adams said, "Don't strike your daughter, George"—after my father went into the passage the first time, he came back and put his fist like this to my mother; I don't know whether it struck her face or her chest, and she went backwards—it was after this that she threw the plate—my father brought home 25s.—I saw him strike my mother the night before—he gave me 17s. the night before to get her clothes out of pawn—on the same morning I saw him stand over her with a broom—I have heard him say to her, "You b—, I will make you do this" or "the other"—Smith was sober.
FRANK CORNER . I am house surgeon at Poplar Hospital—on 25th July, about 9.45, George Rowland was admitted, suffering from an incised wound on the left ear; it commenced at the top and split the ear to the angle of the jaw, and the piece hung down towards his shoulder—since then three-quarters of the ear has gangrened—it will interfere with his
hearing a little—he was sober, and so was Smith—a plate would cause the injury.
Cross-examined. The loss of blood would tend to sober him—gangrene might supervene in a healthy man, but it would be more likely to do so in a man of drunken habits.
BENJAMIN BERNARD (Policeman K 392). On 25th July, about 11 p.m., I took the prisoner in her house, and told her she would be charged with having violently assaulted her husband by throwing a plate at him—she said, "Yes, I threw the plate"—she also said that if she had had twopence in the afternoon she would have procured poison and ended her life, as she was tired of it—she was sober—they occupy the whole house; the kitchen is on the ground floor.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been out on bail—her baby is about ten weeks old—she had twins when she was apprehended, but one died while she was in Holloway Jail during her first week's remand.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 10th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. A. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. GILL and MUTE Prosecuted.
HARRIET HOPKINS . I am the widow of James Hopkins; he was 40 years of age—the prisoner is his nephew, and lived with us at 29, John Street, Edgware Road; he had been a soldier—my husband was a lamplighter, in the employ of the Gas Light and Coke Company—the prisoner got into the same employ, and they worked together—on Sunday afternoon, 17th August, we all three went out together at half-past three, to the Welsh Harp, Hendon; we only stayed there a few minutes; we came home, had tea, and went out again, and went to Wormwood Scrubs, and came home about ten minutes past one—they had to go out between two and three to turn off the gas—I and my husband went to bed, and the prisoner went into the back room and changed his best clothes for his working ones, and came and laid outside our bed, as he had done for three months—I was awoke by my husband's abusive language to the prisoner—the prisoner said, "Lie down again, it ain't time for us to get up yet"—he went off to sleep again, and my husband used abusive language again to him—he said, "Don't do it again"—my husband went to make a blow at him, and, in self-defence, the prisoner struck him—my husband was sitting up in bed; the prisoner was out of bed, standing; he hit my husband at the side of the eye; I afterwards saw a small cut, it bled a good deal; he used to suffer a good deal from nose bleeding—I never saw him bleeding from the eye before, only when he had an accident from a bus, that was two years ago—I sent my nephew, William Grover, for the doctor, and got water and bathed my
husband's head, and put some sticking plaster on it—after that they made friends again and shook hands, and my husband said, "Tom, I am sure you did not mean to do it," and a few minutes after they went out to work together and had coffee and cake together—when they were quarrelling I did not hear anything said about the prisoner having his arm across my chest; I heard nothing about that till afterwards; I heard it from different people—my husband had a black eye next day, and he went to the club doctor about it on Thursday morning; he complained of feeling ill, and he afterwards went to St. Mary's Hospital—he died on the Saturday—he was given to drink very heavily at times.
EMILY TREWER . I am the wife of James Trewer, of 25, John Street—about a quarter to one on the morning of 18th August I heard a disturbance and voices in the deceased's room, and heard him say, "You have done it now, you have hit me right in the eye."
HENRY GILSHAM . I am senior inspector of the Gas Light and Coke Company—the deceased and prisoner were employed as lamplighters—the deceased came to his work on Monday with a very disfigured face; he was absent on Tuesday—on Wednesday I made some inquiry of him, and he made a statement to me—on Thursday morning I received this letter, purporting to come from the prisoner, giving an account of the occurrence; I afterwards saw him, and he said that account was untrue, and said he was aroused by his uncle striking him and calling him bad names, and that in self-defence he struck him in the eye.
WILLIAM SCHROEDER . I am clerk to Mr. Danford Thomas, one of the Coroners for the County of London—on 12th September I was present at the inquest on the body of James Hopkins—the prisoner made a deposition which I took down; this is it. (This, in substance, was similar to the above statement, but contained the words: "I think it was jealousy; he thought I had my arm across his wife's chest, but that was not the case.")
OAKLEY ALFRED HIGGINS . I am one of the house physicians at St. Mary's Hospital—the deceased was brought there on 21st August, suffering from erysipelas, arising from a small wound above the outer part of the right eyebrow; he was extremely ill, and was very tremulous and delirious; he got worse, and died on the 30th from the erysipelas.
ALBERT WETHERHEAD (Police Sergeant D). I arrested the prisoner on 4th September, at the Coroner's Court, for causing the death of James Hopkins by striking him on the head on the 18th—he said nothing.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for assaulting the same person, on which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
JOSEPH FRANCIS . I am a fish dealer, and live in Spelham Terrace, Stanwell—on Monday evening, 4th August, I was outside the Crooked Billet public-house, and had a cocoa-nut pitch there—there was a van or
brake there with a number of men and women; one man got down, and after chucking" eight balls he would not pay; ho struck me and I struck him, and a woman struck me; others joined in the quarrel—I did not notice the deceased or Adams taking any part in it.
Cross-examined. It was Bank Holiday—after the prisoner struck me another man struck and kicked me, and a woman struck me; I was knocked down, and my wife also—the scrimmage went on for five or ten minutes.
JAMES ADAMS . I am landlord of the Crooked Billet, at Stanwell—on 4th August, about a quarter to seven, a party of fifteen men and women drove up in a brake—I supplied them with refreshments—they left about twenty minutes to eight—they were perfectly sober; the prisoner was one of the party—shortly after I went outside on the doorstep and saw George Adams, and stood talking to him—there were two separate parties, men and women, having a regular skirmish—the prisoner came from the rear of the van, and deliberately struck the deceased on the rig lit chest—it knocked him over a pair of steps, and his head came in contact with the surface water pipe; he got up and placed his hands to his head, and said, "Oh my head!"—the prisoner struck him three deliberate blows on the back, and knocked him into the front door of my house—he did not attempt to retaliate at all; he walked about a little and then came and stood by my bar window—in the meantime the prisoner had driven off with his party—in consequence of what I was told, I afterwards went outside again and saw Adams lying on the ground; I got some water and bathed his temples and mouth, and felt his pulse, it was beating remarkably clear; I put my hand on his heart, and its action was gradually dying out—I sent for the police and Doctor Prince, who arrived about an hour afterwards; at that time Adams was dead—next morning I saw the prisoner at Battersea Police-station, and at once picked him out from about twelve people—I have not the least doubt that ho is the man that struck the blows; I conversed with him about ten minutes before he left my house—I know the deceased well; he was a quiet, inoffensive man.
Cross-examined. I understood that the prisoner was the driver of the van—at the time I was talking to Adams the people who were skirmishing were about fifteen paces from us, I should think the party did not exceed thirty—this all happened very quickly—the parties were skirmishing with each other and with the cocoa-nut man.
ROBERT WEST . I am a drayman and live at Stanwell—I was outside the Crooked Billet—I saw Adams outside talking to the landlord—I saw the prisoner hit him and knock him two or throe paces, then he hit him again and knocked him over some steps, and his head came in contact with the slack pipe in the wall; he got up, put his hands to the back of his head, and said, "Oh my head!" and while there the prisoner hit him three more times in the chest—he then went and stood under the coffee-room window; ho had not been standing there more than a very few minutes before he fell down and never rose again—the prisoner went and got on the box of the van and drove off in the direction of Hounslow.
Cross-examined. I had never seen him before—I was about two yards from where Adams was knocked down—the prisoner knocked him down as soon as ho came out of the door of the public-house—that was just
before they were going to start—the landlord came out after the man was knocked down—I did not hear any words used.
ELIZABETH WILSON . I am the wife of James Wilson, a carman, and live in London Road, Staines—on 4th August, between seven and eight in the evening I was near the front door of the Crooked Billet—I saw two men come from the road, one hit the other and knocked him down, and his head came in contact with the brick wall; while he was down the other hit him again, and the poor man stumbled up and ran through into the bar, and I saw no more of him—I did not see what became of the other.
Cross-examined. I could not swear to the man that knocked the other down, they were both fighting, and one seemed running round away from the other—I was close to them; it was all done in a moment—there was a rare lot of people about.
JOHN PRINCE . I am a surgeon practising at Staines—on Monday evening, 4th August, about nine, I was called to the Crooked Billet, and saw the deceased; he was quite dead—on the 7th I made a post mortem examination—I found a bruise about half an inch in diameter in front of the right shoulder and another at the back of the head, a depressed mark about an inch and a half in circumference—those injuries were such as might have been caused by a fall or blows—there was internal injury corresponding with that on the head—the heart and liver were enlarged, the muscles slightly fatty, and the bowels incompetent—the lungs had slight adhesions on the right side—death arose from an excessive shock acting on a weak system.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOSEPH TAPSON . I am a carman, and live at 259, Battersea Park Road—on Bank Holiday I was one of the party that went in the brake to Virginia Water—the prisoner was the driver—we stopped at the Crooked Billet—I saw a disturbance at the cocoa-nut place—I saw a crowd of people, and a woman lying in the crowd, and all the company we had in the brake were trying to rescue heir—the prisoner was at his horse's head sponging it with water—I saw the landlord inside the bar—the prisoner remained whore he was till he got on his box and drove off—it was not possible that he could have knocked anybody down without my seeing him; he was in my sight all the time.
Cross-examined. We had some refreshment there; I don't think we were there quite an hour altogether—I had not the prisoner in my sight all that time, but I kept looking round to see where he was—he did not go away from the brake; I did not see any man knocked down, or on the ground, only the woman; someone had been fighting with her, and the men were trying to pick her up—I did not see all that was going on.
CHARLES LEE . I am a carman—I was with the party in the van—I was at the back of the public-house having a wash, and I ran out and saw gipsy Francis there, he went to hit a female; I put up my hand to stop him, and he hit me in the eye—I hit him in self-defence—I had a knock behind the ear—I rushed round the brake and saw the prisoner standing by the side of his brake ready to drive away—I did not see any man knocked down
Cross-examined. The prisoner drove off in two or three minutes, as quick as he could—when I came out of the house a man they called Cat was lying in the road with his nose bleeding.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 10th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
661. EDWARD MOORE (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Alice Hoskins, and stealing a quantity of cigars and 3s. 11 1/2 d., having been previously convicted in the name of George White.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
663. GEORGE BELCHER (19) and EDWARD NORTHCOTE (22) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Gilbert Henry Betjemann, and stealing a coat and other articles, his property, Northcote having been convicted in 1872.— Nine Months' Hard Labour Each. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 10th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
JOHN EGAN (City Detective). On 26th August I examined the bootshop, 134, Cheapside—I found the plate glass window broken, and the boots in the window in a disorderly state—on 2nd September I went to Worship Street and showed the prisoner these boots and shoes, which were then in possession of a constable—I said, "You had these boots and shoes in your possession"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I shall charge you with breaking and entering the premises, 134, Cheapside, and stealing from there"—he said, "I did not steal them"—I said, "Where did you get them from then?"—he said, "A man gave them to me in Aldgate, on that night, about half-past ten, and asked me to take them to the lodginghouse"—I said, "Who was the man?"—he said, "I don't know, only
that he looked like a labourer"—I took him to the City, and charged him with breaking into the premises—he made no answer.
JOSEPH MASON . I am manager to Henry Randall, of 134, Cheapside—on 25th August I shut and fastened up my premises about eight o'clock—there are no shutters to the plate glass windows, but an iron gate, through which you can see the boots—my assistant was there when I got there next morning about ten—the window was broken; there was a hole about two feet square—these boots are ours, and were there the night before only a few inches from the glass—they could be taken from the outside by a hand—this broken window was at the side, in Gutter Lane.
WILLIAM WATCHHORN (Policeman H 92). At half-past 7 p.m. on 1st September I was called to the Victoria Hall Lodging-house, Commercial Street Spitalfields, to take the prisoner into custody for stealing a pair of boots belonging to a lodger there—these boots were handed to me by the manager of the home, who said he found three pairs of boots and three pairs of shoes under the prisoner's bed on the morning of 26th August—I asked the prisoner how they came into his possession—he said they were given to him on the evening of the 25th August by a drunken man in Aldgate, to take care of for him.
WILLIAM CLOUGHTON (City Policeman 626). At five minutes past 12 on the morning of the 26th I went by the prosecutor's window in Cheapside; it was perfectly safe—at twenty minutes past 12 I passed by again and saw the window was broken, and that some boots were stolen—there was a hole in the glass large enough to put your arm in and take a boot out—it looked as if it had been struck with something hard—the plate glass was about? of an inch—I saw nobody about.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you that night.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence said that a drunken man asked him to take care of the boots and shoes, and that he left them at the lodging-house.
The prisoner was further indicted for having been convicted of felony at this Court in February, 1889, in the name of David Josephs.
JOHN EGAN . I was present at this Court in February Sessions last year, when the prisoner was convicted of two cases of shop-breaking and sentenced to twenty months' imprisonment, in the name of David Josephs—I had him in custody.
The Prisoner. I was tried here, and got twenty months.
Mr. Gilbert said the prisoner had been in a lunatic asylum some time ago, but that there were no signs of insanity about him now.— Five Year's Penal Servitude.
THE COURT commended the conduct of Constable Marshall, and of a pawnbroker, Walter Besant, and to the latter £1 10s. was awarded. There were two other indictments against the prisoner.
PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences £10 from John Frost, and other sums from other persons, with intent to defraud; also to three indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of money, and also to a conviction of felony in April, 1887. **— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
667. GEORGE TYLER (35) , to unlawfully inflicting grievous bodily harm on Henry George Rodwell. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] The prosecutor strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy.— Three Days' Imprisonment. And
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 11th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted; MESSRS. ADDISON, Q.C., and
GEOGHEGAN Defended. The Prisoner only understanding English imperfectly, an interpreter was sworn to assist him.
ROSE TEBAU . On 13th July I lived at 38, Camden Passage, Islington, with Ugo Milandi, as his wife; he was an Italian, and was about twentytwo years of age; he carried on the business of a barber there—he went out of the house about half-past eight or a quarter to nine, without saying where he was going—I did not see him again alive—next morning, about a quarter to four, a policeman fetched me to the hospital in Gray's Inn Road, and I there saw his dead body.
ARGENO PERGAMI (Interpreted). I am an Italian—I am an image maker, and live at 4, Fleet Row, Eyre Street Hill—I knew Milandi for about five years, and Valli I have known about two years; he is a looking-glass frame maker—I know the Anglo—Italian Club—I have been there from time to time, and have seen Milandi and Valli there—on Sunday night, 13th July, I went there about ten—I went through the big room into a small room at the back; I saw Valli there, and Mascarini sitting down, and Milandi standing up—Valli and Mascarini were speaking to each other when I went in—I went into room No. 3, and as I came back to No. 2 I heard Milandi say to Mascarini not to believe that what Valli said was true—Valli told Milandi that it was not the first time he had told a story, and that he did not like it—Milandi replied, "I only said it because we are friends, and I shall not say any more"—Valli then hit Milandi in the forehead—Milandi wanted to fight him back; he tried to get hold of something—one of the people then prevented him, and kept them apart, and they threw Valli out of the door—I saw Valli feel in his pocket like that (describing)—Milandi was then standing inside the lobby—Valli was outside on the pavement; Milandi said to Mascarini, "You let Valli give me a blow on the head, but you will pay for it"—I did not see what happened after that, because I went into the third room, leaving Milandi in No. 1—afterwards, when I was in No. 3 room, Valli came in and sat
down by himself, just by the corner; a girl came up and said to him, "Your young woman wants you," and she came and spoke to him, and said, "Let us go"—he said to her, "You go to where you have been up to now"—about eleven Valli left the room—I stopped there till one—I had not seen Milandi since I left him standing at the front door about a quarter past ten—I stayed at the club till I heard of Milandi's death.
Cross-examined. I was in No. 3 room when they were disputing, but I did not pay attention to what they were saying, I was only there about a minute or two, and then I came back.
AGUSTO ROSSI . I am Secretary of the Anglo—Italian Club, and live on the premises—I was in the club the whole of Sunday evening, 13th of July—I saw Valli, Milandi, and Mascarini there—about 10 o'clock I saw Valli strike Milandi, it caught him between the chin and the shoulder—Mascarini was talking to Valli about selling his furniture, and Milandi said to Mascarini, "What do you want to do business with that man for?" alluding to the prisoner—the prisoner did not say anything at first—Milandi repeated the words, and then the prisoner asked him what he meant; there was one word and another, and then one blow was struck—the prisoner said, "What did Milandi say?"—he said, "He only said it in a joke"—the prisoner said he would not mind if they were alone, but he objected to it before other people—there were some other harsh words, but I do not quite remember them—as soon as Valli struck Milandi he took up a chair as though to hit Valli—I jumped off the table where I was sitting and stopped him, and took him into room No. 1—I left Valli in the other room with Mascarini—after that Milandi came back to room No. 2, then they renewed the quarrel, and Milandi invited Valli to go outside and fight; Milandi proceeded to the door first, and Valli followed, and as soon as he got to the door Milandi struck out at him, and the porter, Parnallo, took hold of Milandi and brought him in; at the same time I caught hold of Valli and said, "Don't have any row here," and he dropped his stick and said he did not want any row there, it was all over—this (produced) is the stick, the porter picked it up and gave it to another person, who gave it to Valli afterwards—Valli then came back into the club, Milandi was there—Valli came in to No. 2, and afterwards went upstairs to the dancing-room—Milandi went away with Mascarini, and came back a few minutes afterwards—Valli left the club a few minutes before 12; at that time Milandi was playing cards in No. 1, at a table under the shop window—he was sitting in such a place that he could see anybody pass out; he did not finish the game, he threw down the cards, and went off in a hurry.
Cross-examined. I have been about seven months in this club, since the 15th February—the club is for the social meetings and enjoyments of Italians—it is a well-conducted, orderly club—I have known Valli and Milandi since I have been there—I have no special friendship for the one or the other—Milandi I have known four or five years, but Valli only since I have been secretary—Milandi was a stout and very powerful man; when he had a drop too much he was of a violent temper—he began this quarrel at the time Mascarini and Valli were speaking quietly—Valli is a cabinet-maker—he has always been a quiet, inoffensive man since I have known him; that has been his character and reputation; he is a hard working man—Milandi seemed very excited before the
blow was given—he used a few words before the blow; lie used the word besta, that means a beast—he called Valli that before the blow was struck—he very likely used the word villiaco, but I was excited keeping him quiet, I can't pledge myself to exact words, they were insulting words—afterwards, when they were at the door, Milandi struck Valli, and they closed, but were separated—afterwards Milandi was playing cards with Gravachi, Mingatti, and Silvestrini, that was about eleven—Milandi was first sitting by the side of the door, and he afterwards changed his seat to the other side; from that seat he could see the door better, because he would be opposite it—I saw Valli leave; he passed through the first room, and a few minutes afterwards Milandi threw down his cards, and left quickly.
Re-examined. I had often seen Milandi and Valli together—this was the first time I had seen a blow struck in the club—there were a great many words said in the excitement, before the blow was struck—Valli had been drinking, he was a little under the influence of liquor—Milandi was not—I had always seen the prisoner with this stick.
FREDERICK GOBLE . I live at 110, Farringdon Road Buildings—I work at a brewery—on the morning of 14th July, about twenty-five minutes past twelve, I was coming up Great Bath Street, Clerkenwell, going home—I saw two men standing in Farringdon Road, just above Vineyard Walk, as if talking together, about a yard apart—as I looked at them I saw the one who had his back to me, close with the other, and the other jumped away and said, "I am stabbed," and cried out, "Murder"—I was about seven or eight yards from them—the man who cried out ran across the road towards the Fire station, calling out "Murder" as he ran—the other man started after him, and stumbled; he had a stick in his hand, it was raised about level with his head or a trifle higher; he held the ferrule end, and the top was upwards—that man appeared to be the prisoner, when I saw him in charge of the Police—the other man ran down Mount Pleasant, round the corner in the direction of the New Road, and the other man after him; when he stumbled the other in front gained on him, he ran down Cold Bath Square; I lost sight of both of them there; I then turned and went back the way I had come; when I got a little way down Bath Street I saw the prisoner, a policeman, and another man (Till) standing together at the corner of Cold Bath Square; the other man was a long distance down Bath Street, on the ground on his back, bleeding—I waited there till I saw him put on a shutter and taken away.
Cross-examined. I was walking from Holborn at an ordinary pace when I saw the two men; there was nothing particular to attract my attention to them; I did not stop till I heard the deceased call out, "I am stabbed"—I am sure those were the words—it was said in English—he called out "Murder" as plain as I could—there was only them in the road—it was not a very dark night; there were lights there—they were standing just above a gas light; the lamp was between me and them—I had not walked many steps between first seeing them and hearing the cry.
Re-examined. I was about seven or eight yards from them at the time this occurred.
was in the passage of my house; my attention was attracted by cries of "Murde"—I went to the door, and saw the deceased running past, continually crying "Murder" as he ran—close behind him I saw the prisoner also running—lie had this stick in his hand, holding it about the middle, with the knob end towards the deceased—I saw blood on the pavement—I ran after the prisoner and caught him in Cold Bath Square—I called to him, "What is this?"—he stopped and turned round and faced me, and said, "That man," moving his head in the direction of the deceased, "came up and struck me twice in the face," making a motion with his fist of a blow in the cheek—I said, "What did you do? have you struck him with that stick?"—he said, "No; I will see if he has robbed me," and he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his watch; he examined it back and front, and said, "No, no; it's all right," and put it back in his pocket—I did not think it was all right, and said, "You will have to come round the corner and see"—he said, "Yes," and turned round and started to run in the same direction as the deceased had gone—I ran also, and when I got into Great Bath Street the prisoner stopped dead—I took hold of his arm, and following the direction of his eyes, I saw a police constable coming up on the other side of the road with his lantern on the ground tracing the blood—I called him, and said, "This is the man that was running after," and he took hold of his arm, and said he would have to go back—I went with them, and some distance down we saw the deceased lying in the road saturated with blood—after that I went to the station—the prisoner's remarks were in English.
Cross-examined. He had his hat on, his tie and collar were broken, a little disarranged; that might have been in the scuffle—I did not see that his hat was indented.
WILLIAM WHITE . I am a clerk, and live at 67, Eden Grove, Holloway—about half-past twelve in the early morning of the 14th July I was passing along Mount Pleasant, on the side of the Parcel Post Office; I heard very loud shouts of "Murder," and saw two men running, one after the other; one I afterwards identified as the deceased, the other was the prisoner; they were running from the direction of Farringdon Road, down Mount Pleasant—the deceased turned round into Cold Bath Square—I crossed over and said to the prisoner, "What is all this about? what is the matter?"—he said, pointing in the direction of the deceased, "That man has been trying to steal my watch; he has given me two punches in the eye"—he took out his watch in a very excited manner and looked at it—I said, "If he bas been trying to take your watch you had better come down and see if he will be caught"—we then half walked and half ran down the street, and presently I saw the deceased fall in the middle of the road, and I went up—I did not see the witness Till, not till he appeared at the police-court—I lost sight of the prisoner just for a moment, and saw him about a minute after wards in charge of two constables—I told them what I had seen, and accompanied them and the prisoner to the station—on the way the prisoner said, "That man insult me in the club; he give me two punch in the eye;" and a little while after he said, "That man insult me in the club; he give me two punch in the head."
Cross-examined. It was not a particularly dark night; not more than usual—he said this man had insulted him in the club; he said it two or three times; first when I met him—he said, "That man has given me
two punches in the eye; I shall see if he has stolen my watch"—he appeared to be very excited—it was on the way to the station that he said the man had insulted him in the club—I did not notice the stick.
WALTER SELBY (Policeman G 218). About ten minutes past twelve, on the morning of 14th July, I was on duty in Eyre Street Hill—I heard cries of "Murder"—I went into Great Bath Street, and there saw the deceased running towards me; he fell on his face into the roadway, close to Little Warner Street—I went up to him and turned him over on his back, and then saw that he was bleeding from his left thigh—I was within about ten or fifteen yards from him when he fell—he had no stick or anything—another constable came up; I left the deceased in his care, and went in the direction from which he had come—when I got to the corner of Cold Bath Square I saw the prisoner and Till come round the corner—I was following the blood with my light; I crossed over to them, and Till said, in the prisoner's presence, "This is the man; he was running after him"—I told the prisoner he would have to come back with me—he said, "I was struck in the face from behind"—I took him to where the deceased was lying, and handed him over to Constable Bullen—at the time I spoke to the prisoner he was carrying this stick—the deceased was put on a shutter and taken to the Royal Free Hospital—I tied a handkerchief round him, and attempted to stop the bleeding—Sabini, an Italian, assisted me—on the way to the hospital I heard Sabini speak to the deceased in Italian; when we got to the hospital he was dead.
WILLIAM BULLEN (Policeman G 220). I was on duty on Eyre Street Hill in the early morning of 14th July—I heard cries of "Murder!" and went in the direction, and found the deceased lying in Bath Street—the prisoner was given into my custody by Selby—I took him to the station—on the way he said, "Someone struck me in the eye from behind, I followed him; I did not know if he was the man I quarrelled with in the club"—at the station, Inspector Radley instructed me to search the prisoner; I did so, and found this knife in his outside left breast pocket—it was closed—there were a few wet blood stains upon it—the inspector opened it—I noticed the prisoner's face; he had no marks on him.
Cross-examnined. I did not notice his collar, or that his hat was knocked in; he did not appear excited.
OCTAVIO SABINI . I live at 1, Little Bath Street—I helped to carry the deceased to the hospital; he knew me—I spoke to him; I had got hold of his hand or arm—I asked him how he felt—he said he did not feel very well—I told him to be quiet, we were going to the hospital—he died about five minutes afterwards, before we got to the hospital—he said nothing further as to how he felt.
JAMES RADLEY (Police Inspector G). I was on duty at King's Cross Station at about a quarter to one, when the prisoner was brought in by Bullen, who said he was charged with stabbing a man—I asked the prisoner if he could speak English; he said, "Yes, a little"—I said, "You are accused of stabbing a man"—he said, "I know nothing about it; a man struck me two times on my head; I ran after him; he fell down, and the policeman brought me to this station"—I said, "Have you got a knife in your pocket?"—he said, "No"—I then directed Bullen to search him, and I saw him take this knife from his breast coat pocket, it was closed; I opened it; it had on it what appeared to me to
be wet blood; there are the remains of it on it now—I afterwards learnt that the man was dead—I then entered the charge of murder on the charge-sheet, and had it interpreted to the prisoner, and he said, "I have not murdered nobody, I followed behind; if I have done anything, I have done it in self-defence"—an hour or two afterwards I went to the hospital and saw the body of the deceased—I saw his trousers, and found through the left thigh a cut corresponding with the cut in his left thigh—it was such a cut as might have been produced by this knife—the deceased had no knife in his possession—I afterwards went to the spot where this was alleged to have occurred, and in the centre of the Farringdon roadway, between Vineyard Walk and the Fire Station, found traces of blood on the right-hand pavement—I traced them across the road, past the Fire Station, down Mount Pleasant to Cold Bath Square, a distance of 270 yards, to where the man dropped—the distance from the club to where I first saw traces of blood was about half a mile—that was from Laystall Street, along Clerkenwell Road, down Eyre Street Hill, Little Bath Street, up Great Bath Street, into Farringdon Road; that was the shortest way.
Cross-examined. The first answers the prisoner gave me were in English; the last was through an interpreter—besides those answers he spoke a great deal in Italian, both before and after; he was anxious to talk a great deal more—he said several things I did not understand before the interpreter arrived.
ARTHUR GALE . I am a registered medical officer at the Royal Free Hospital—I saw the deceased when he was brought there about a quarter to one; he was then dead—I saw that he had a wound on the left thigh—it was about 3 1/2 inches deep—he had died from loss of blood—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination, and found that the femoral artery had been half divided; a fair amount of force must have been required to cause such a wound—such a wound could be caused by this knife.
Cross-examined. The wound was on the outside of the left thigh, a fleshy part—the femoral artery is more on the inner side—the knife went right in and caught the artery; had it fallen short of that it would not necessarily have been fatal.
MR. ADDISON stated that the Prisoner was anxious to make a statement, before he addressed the JURY, to which MR. JUSTICE CHARLES acceded. The prisoner then produced a written statement, which MR. ADDISON stated was entirely his own production; being in Italian, an interpreter was sworn to translate it; it was very long, and purported to give an exact account of his proceedings on the day in question; the material portion, relating to the occurrence in the club, was in accordance with the evidence given by the Witnesses, and as to the fatal act, it alleged that it was done in self-defence.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ANTONIO GRAVACHI (Interpreted). On Sunday evening, 13th July, I was one of a party of four playing cards at the club; Mingatti, Silvestrini, and Milandi were the others—Milandi changed his position at the table; when he threw down his cards and left the room he was in a bad temper, enraged.
Cross-examined. He only played for two or three minutes after Valli had left the club; I can't say to a minute or two, but it was directly after.
THEODORE METTINI . On this Sunday night, after twelve, I was standing outside the club, when Milandi came out; he was my mate, he was in a very bad temper; I tried to stop him from going away, but he knocked me back—I left him outside the door, looking about.
PAUL MARCHINI . I am a hairdresser and live at 14, Eyre Street Hill—I knew Milandi; he was a hairdresser, and was a friend of mine—I do not know Valli—on Sunday, 13th July, a little after midnight, I was outside Milano's restaurant, on Eyre Street Hill, talking to three constables, when Milandi passed by; he was not going very quick, and was not in good temper—I said, "Good-night;" he did not answer me as he ought to have done—I went with him to the bottom of Eyre Street Hill; he turned round abruptly, and asked me if I knew Valli; that was just at the corner of Warner Street; I left him there—I had not seen Valli that evening.
ALFRED MEMORY . I am a looking-glass manufacturer—I have known the prisoner about five years; he has worked for me three separate times, first as a boy at ten shillings a week; latterly he has been working as a cabinet-maker—he lived directly opposite the end of Colebrook Row, within about fifty yards of the Angel—if he was going home from his club he should go behind Sadler's Wells Walk, Exmouth Street, by the Fire Station in Farringdon Road; or from Laystall Street, on Mount Pleasant, to the Fire Station, and then up Exmouth Street to the Angel—I think the nearest way would be by Mount Pleasant; I always walked that way myself—the prisoner was in my employment at the time this occurred—I have always found him very quiet and trustworthy and industrious.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted.
MR. JUSTICE CHARLES called MR. GILL'S attention to the fact that neglect and ill-treatment, which were separate misdemeanours, were charged together in one Count. MR. GILL suggested that he could elect to proceed upon one charge, and treat the other as surplusage. MR. JUSTICE CHARLES assenting to this, MR. GILL stated that he would treat the case as one of neglect only.
The JURY found the Prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the Prisoner for the manslaughter of the said child, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, September 11th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
672. JAMES PROPHET (30) , Forging and uttering a cheque for £10, with intent to defraud. The Prisoner having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty of the uttering, they found that verdict. —Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
WILLIAM JAMES WHITMORE . I am a house agent—on 4th July the prisoner called and said he had just arrived from Australia, and was buyer and manager for Messrs. Arthur and Sons, wholesale merchants, of Brisbane, Sydney, New York, Manchester, and Glasgow, and wanted a warehouse—I took him to a warehouse at 16, Manchester Avenue, which he agreed to take, but said that his principal was in New York, buying goods, and was expected in this country on the 10th or 15th—he saw the landlord next day, and made the same statements to him, and got possession that day.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Mr. Warrall consented that the rent should commence when the lease was completed on Mr. Arthur's arrival.
OSCAR ROSE . I am a manufacturers' agent, of 1, Milk Street, Cheapside—about the middle of July I was introduced to the prisoner by a Mr. Jameson, an old friend, at the Manchester Hotel, who said that the prisoner had just arrived from Australia, and represented a large cash house, and would do business with me—the prisoner gave me this card, "Arthur and Son, Sydney and Brisbane, presented by Mr. C. Knowsley"—he asked what goods I dealt in—I said, "Waterproof principally; and he asked to see a sample—I know a firm of Arthur and Co. in Glasgow, they are millionaires; the prisoner said they were relations—I called on him with pattern books of waterproof coats, and left them with him—he afterwards wrote for sample coats, and I sent him six—these (produced) are two of them—I think I got this circular in the prisoner's office.
Cross-examined. You said that the Arthurs were wealthy people, and Mr. Arthur would pay cash—you did not say you would not require any orders to be delivered till Mr. Arthur came.
FREDERICK FREWER . I am manager to Mr. Chapman, a pawnbroker, of Waterloo Road—I produce a waterproof coat pledged on 2nd August for fifteen shillings by a man who gave the name of Charles King—I do not recognise the prisoner.
GEORGE LIDDON TROTT . I am a costume manufacturer, of 67, Barbican—I was introduced to the prisoner at the Manchester Hotel, about the middle of July, by Mr. Drake and Mr. Robinson, who were both known to me, as the representative of Arthur and Son, of Brisbane—on 7th August he came to my place and asked me to show him samples, which 1 did—he selected three or four, and gave me an order for about 500 costumes from one of the samples—he asked for half a dozen samples, and my lad took twelve samples to 16, Manchester Avenue—he said, "Mr. Arthur is due here
on August 12, but it may be the 22nd before he arrives"—he made arrangements for cash on the usual terms; I also gave him three samples of dressing-gowns—I called on him several times afterwards, but did not find him—he told me he was going to Brighton, and would not return till Tuesday—he took away a silk gown, which he wanted for a birthday present for his niece at Brighton—these (produced) are a portion of the costumes.
Cross-examined. You told me you were going to pay cash, and asked what my terms were—I said 3¾—you did not say that the goods could not be delivered till Mr. Arthur arrived—I said that I could turn out the costumes by the time you mentioned, which would be after Mr. Arthur's arrival—the jersey which you wanted for your niece was taken on approbation.
JAMES DETRICHSEN . I am an underclothing manufacturer of 38, Noble Street—I was shown this circular by a friend, and afterwards called on the prisoner at 16, Manchester Avenue, and asked him if his people were related to Arthur and Co., of Glasgow—he said yes, and that Mr. Arthur was coming over in a week or two and would give a full account of the concern—that was about July 10th—he produced a letter from young Mr. Arthur, in which he asked the prisoner to procure some underclothing for his sister, who was going to a boarding-school in Glasgow—I asked if he knew something about her style; he said that she was tallish, and not stout—I supplied a dozen chemises and a dozen drawers—ho sent a messenger for them, and I next saw them at the Police-court—these are them (produced)—I parted with my goods because it promised to be a big order from a Sydney house, and the genuine tone of the letter—I believed there was such a house in Sydney and Brisbane.
WILLIAM WESTON . I represent Arthur and Co., Limited, of Glasgow; they have a warehouse in London, and carry on business at Brisbane and Sydney—I do not know of any other house of that name in Sydney, Brisbane, or Glasgow—they have no house in New York or Manchester—I do not know the prisoner, he has no connection with the firm.
JOHN DUKES (City Policeman 697). On 12th August I saw the prisoner leave a lodging-house in Stamford Street carrying two parcels, the property which has been identified by Mr. Trott—I told him I was a police officer, and said, "What have you got there?" he said, "Two costumes and a garibaldi," I said, "Where did you get them from?" he said, "From Mr. Trott, costume manufacturer, Barbican"—I said, "How came you to getthem?"—he handed me this circular, and said, "That is who I am"—I was not satisfied, and took him to Kennington Lane Station—he was charged with unlawful possession, discharged next day, and charged again in the City—I found on him forty-one duplicates and 1d.—three of the duplicates related to these waterproof coats—I said, "I shall arrest you again, and take you to the City, where you will be charged with obtaining goods by false pretences, and representing yourself to be the buyer of Arthur and Co., of Sydney and Brisbane"—he said, "I don't know Mr. Arthur; I have been led into this by a man named Milne"—I said, "Where is Mr. Milne? can you give me his address?"—he said,
"No"—later on he said, "You will find three pawn-tickets relating to three waterproof coats, and the other coats you will find in my warehouse"—I went there and found all the property produced except three waterproofs and three costumes, which I found at his lodgings—all the property produced to-day has been identified—there were no books or signs of business at Manchester Avenue, only some paper torn up.
Cross-examined. I found some invoices of goods, and have produced them—you offered to take me to Mr. Trott, and to the landlord of 16, Manchester Avenue—I have an invoice in my pocket from Lee, of Southwark (produced)—you did not tell me that Mr. Milne had gone to Manchester—I could not make inquiries about him, you told me you did not know where he lived—you told me that you saw an advertisement for a manager for the London branch, and answered it eight months ago—you did not say that you received a reply—you said that you met Mr. Milne at the Manchester Hotel—you said you were going to Loughborough Junction, but you turned towards the Strand—I said, "This is not the way."
Re-examined. He lodged in Stamford Street, at 1s. a night.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was engaged by Milne, who stated that he was' the agent of Arthur and Co., and that all the orders were given subject to Mr. Arthur's arrival, which had not taken place when he was taken into custody.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony on January 3rd, 1890 —Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE appeared for Ward, MR. PASSMORE for Vigar, and MR. LAWLESS for Brown.
WILLIAM MILLER (City Policeman). On 31st July, about 7.50 a.m., I was in plain clothes watching with Hicks in Lower Thames Street, and saw a South-Western van come to the market, loaded with hampers and packages of fish—I saw the prisoners Brown and Ward in conversation in Arthur Street—that was as near as they could get—Brown went to the Cock public-house with Thomas, a railway inspector, who checks all the goods which arrive—Ward then got on the van and took a crab out of a package and dropped it to the bottom of the van—he stopped on the tail-board some time, and said something to Vigar, who got on the van, and put two crabs in the bottom of the van into a mat basket, and then took them into a publichouse six or seven yards from the van—Ward was standing on the footway—after a few minutes, Brown came out with the mat basket which Vigar had taken in, and went into the Coopers' Arms public-house, Miles Lane—when he came out I told him I was a police officer, and asked what he had got in the basket—he said, "What has that to do with you?"—he then said, "They are crabs"—I said, "Where did you get them from?"—he said, "I bought them in Billingsgate Market"—I said, "How much did you give for them?"—he said, "Three shillings"—I said, "That is wrong; I saw a man steal those crabs; I shall take you in custody for receiving them"—going to the station he said, "Can't
you square this matter without it going any further?"—I said, "No"—he said, "I have fifteen years' good character"—I said, "I can't help that"—I then went to Arthur Street East, and saw Ward and Vigar—I said I should take them in custody for being concerned with a man in custody in stealing two crabs—Ward said, "I know nothing about them"—I told Vigar that he took them into the Cock public-house—he said, "I have taken no crabs into the public-house this morning"—I afterwards took Thomas in custody, and they were all charged at the police-station-Brown said, "I gave the boy a shilling for them in the Cock public-house"—Vigar said, "You did not, you only gave me sixpence"—Brown said, "You did not"—sixpence was found on Vigar, and sixpence and two or three coppers on Ward—Thomas was discharged by the Alderman.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I knew that Thomas was an inspector, and was there for the very purpose of watching these men—I have been on duty there about seven years—it is not the custom to take fish out to see if there is any bad fish underneath—I was about fifteen yards from the van when Vigar took the crabs out, on the opposite side—Ward was standing on the footway, at the foot of the van.
Cross-examined by MR. PASSMORE. I have been watching this van about eighteen months at different times, and have seen things very suspicious.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I don't know that Brown is a friend of Thomas—I saw Brown come out of the public-house with the basket Vigar had taken in; that was about eight o'clock—they were charged at the station about 9.20—Brown said he had given Vigar a shilling for the crab, but it was not found on him, he may have spent it.
JOHN HICKS (City Detective). I was watching with Miller on 31st July, and saw Ward get on the van, get a crab and drop it—I had previously seen Brown go into the Cock, and he came out carrying a basket.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. There was a few seconds interval between Ward dropping the crab and Vigar carrying it into the publichouse—I have been on duty there ten years, and am pretty well known to the carmen, and so is Miller—the carmen are obliged to wait for their tickets before they drive off.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. Inspector Thomas was charged because he had been in the public-house; the Magistrate discharged him at the close of the evidence—he is still in the company's employment.
Re-examined. I was partially in view while I was watching the van.
THOMAS MCGAREY . I am City Superintendent of the South-Western Railway Company—Ward was a driver, and Vigar a van boy on 31st July—Vigar has been in the service three or four years—Thomas was an inspector, whose duty it was to see that the fish was duly delivered.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. If Thomas saw the boy selling crabs, it would be his duty to report it—he is still in the Company's service.
Cross-examined by MR. PASSMORE. It was Vigar's business to obey the carman's lawful orders.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I go to Billingsgate sometimes, but I never picked up a couple of crabs for a shilling.
Re-examined. This boy has been in the habit of taking loads of fish to market daily; he would know the course of business—it is not in the course of business for a carman to abstract fish from a hamper and sell it in a public-house.
The Prisoners received good characters.
WARD— GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour , VIGAE— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY .— One Month Hard Labour.
BROWN— NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.
ELLEN ELIZABETH BUSHER . I am one of the girls at St. George's Home; Mr. Hodgson was the founder, Mrs. Tilly is the matron—there was a money-box in the kitchen which contained six shillings and some coppers—on this night I went to bed, leaving the house secure—I was awoke next morning, and found the money-box broken open and the money gone—it was my money; I am an orphan.
SAMUEL MARTIN (Policeman H 256). I was on duty in St. George's Road on Monday, about 2.12, and saw some bricks placed by a wall adjoining the Home; I got up, and saw the prisoner by an open window—it was very dark; he ran to the side entrance and I caught him—the window was open and the catch forced; the money-box was handed to me wrenched open—the prisoner made several rambling statements—he said that the other man was quicker than him—I saw no other man—he said, "I am here by myself, if I had had a pal you would not have had me"—I found one shilling in silver and one shilling and a halfpenny in copper on him.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he saw five bricks against a wall and heard a moaning noise and got over to see what it was, and the policeman took him.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, September 11th and 12th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
SAMUEL GOLDSTEIN . I am a hairdresser's manager at Mr. Shotter's, 145, Fenchurch Street—the prisoner was employed there under me—on 28th August I went up to the third floor to have dinner—the prisoner was there—I sat at a different table from the one he was at—he came over to me and said in German, which I understand, "What do you want to tell my friends if I had said another word to you you would have kicked me down the stairs"—I said, "I did not say so"—he said, "You
are a liar"—I said, "You are a liar, I never said such a thing"—he then struck me a violent blow on my forehead with the broken leg of a chair which I had sent up from the saloon, and which was lying there—it knocked me nearly senseless—I put my hand to feel the injury, and he hit me across the hand with the same weapon and broke my hand, which I now wear in a sling in consequence—he got hold of me then and knocked me down, and dragged me about the room like a dog—then he got on top of me and hit me—I screamed, "Leave me alone"—he put his hand on my mouth—he has a mark where I bit his finger when he did that—he let me go—I was screaming "Murder;" he would not leave me alone—he was holding me down and hitting me, kneeling on me—some one came up and opened the door, and he got off me—I picked up the chair-leg—as I came downstairs I saw a policeman—I went to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I was bleeding all over; my nose and my arms were bleeding—I have marks on my arm now—I had one cut on my head—I don't remember the doctor saying I had no cut there—I did not touch the prisoner—the policeman said he had a bad cut on the side of his head—I should think he came by that in the struggle; by falling against the fire-place or table very likely—I picked the chair-leg up when I got up; I never had a chance to strike the prisoner with it—he held me all the time he was striking me—I was very nearly senseless; I didn't know what I was about—when I was struck I started screaming—I did not strike the prisoner—I was senseless—I don't know who separated us—I picked myself up when I came to; I don't know if anybody was in the room then—I ran down to the policeman; I was glad to get out of the room—the prisoner was not in the room when I left it—I was afraid he was murdering me—I did not know what I was doing—I was almost crying when I ran downstairs; I was not lively; I was recovering my senses; I was excited—I told the policeman I almost fainted, that the prisoner was almost murdering me—I could not tell where the prisoner was at the time—I found him downstairs, and told the policeman; I gave him in charge—I brushed and washed myself before I went to the police-court—this was not a quarrel between us; I did not have the chair-leg first—I am not a quarrelsome man—the assistants in the place have given notice and left, because they are all Germans, and turned against me, and stuck together—the governor gave them notice—I do not know that they gave notice because they refused to serve under me—I said I had got them the sack; the governor told me he had given them notice—one assistant gave notice because the governor said he was going to send away two—I was discharged—the governor told me not to go into the dining-room while the other assistants were at dinner—I went on this occasion because I did not know they were going to murder me, and my dinner had been there a long time—I did not go there to quarrel, nor to speak sharply to the prisoner—the prisoner did not say when I went in, "Is it right that you have told the proprietor of the club that you sent us away?"—I said, "It is not true, I did not say a word"—the prisoner did not say, "I have witnesses to prove it"—I did not say, I will kill you," I did not strike him a blow in the face, I never struck him—I don't know where he fell—I cannot say if either of us fell against the washstand—he got hold of my throat and dragged me—I soon got away from him—I cannot remember where he caught
hold of me—the whole thing lasted ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, another ten minutes would have killed me—no one came into the room; I was calling "Police" and "Murder" at the top of my voice; he had his hand on my mouth and was nearly stopping my breath; he let me go for a little while because I bit him, and then I called out "Murder" and "Police"—I don't know who opened the door—I don't know the prisoner's character—his attacking me was a strange thing; I don't know why he did it.
Re-examined. The governor said to me, "Keep in the saloon as much as you can this week"—I thought he meant to look after the business—the prisoner began this struggle, and gave me the first blow, and kept going at me as hard as he could; I resisted, but always had the worst of it—there were two tables in the room—the prisoner got me into the middle of the room—I don't remember falling against a table—the first opportunity I had I got away from the room—I was very much excited by the struggle.
HENRY PEARCE (City Policeman 867). About 12.30 on 28th August I went to 145, Fenchurch Street—when I got inside I heard men's voices shouting and screaming upstairs, and something being knocked about, and sounds as if a violent struggle was taking place—I went upstairs, and on arriving at the landing of the first floor the prosecutor came running down, followed almost immediately after by the prisoner, who was in a very excited state—they were both covered with blood—they ran into the haircutting saloon on the first floor—the prosecutor said nothing at the time, but subsequently he gave the prisoner in charge for assaulting him—afterwards other constables came, and then I went upstairs on to the third floor with the prosecutor—I found the room in great confusion—the prosecutor handed me this chair-leg—he was very excited—it was some time before he could give me any account of the matter—in one corner of the room was a pool of blood just beginning to thicken—he afterwards told me that the prosecutor was a liar, and that he struck him with the chair-leg, and he struck him in self-defence with his fist—I took him to the station—he made no answer to the charge—the prisoner did not appear to be suffering from any serious wound.
Cross-examined. There was a wound such as might have been caused by this chair-leg on the prisoner's head, which had been bleeding I should say, but was not at the time—I examined it—he spoke French, which I understand—when I saw the prosecutor he was running downstairs; he did not look like a man who had just recovered consciousness—both he and the prisoner were very excited—the first words I understood him to say were on the way to the station—he said something at the shop to the proprietress, nothing to me I believe; I am not sure—I don't understand German—there was a delay of nearly ten minutes before the prosecutor charged the prisoner; they went and washed first—about ten minutes or so after I first saw them the chair-leg was picked up—the prosecutor said nothing about it or a stick till then—he did not run downstairs and say at once he had been assaulted with the chair-leg, but waited till he saw it in the room—I cannot say if it was picked up from the floor or the side table.
Re-examined. I went upstairs because I thought it might assist me in coming to some conclusion—I heard the prisoner say something to Mrs. Shotter, partly in French and partly in English—I took it to be that he wished me to take his name and address, and make it a matter for a sum-mons,
but I am not sure—I did not hear him say anything in German—the proprietress is an Englishwoman.
WILLIAM HENRY LORD . I am surgeon at the London Hospital—on 28th August the prosecutor was strapped up by the receiving officer, and afterwards I saw him—he had a fracture of the metacarpal bone of his right thumb, and a contused wound and contusions on his forehead going back behind his ear—he was dressed and sent out—this chair-leg would break the thumb bone—he did not seem very much upset.
Cross-examined. I heard of the cut which the prisoner had—the corner of this chair-leg would make a clean cut on the head—it would make a contused and incised wound, more like a lacerated wound; it would break the skin, I think—the skin of the man's thumb was not broken—I should think the wounds on Goldstein's forehead were caused by a fist.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY MATTHEWS . I live at 222, Barking Road, Canning Town, and am employed at this toilet club as hatter, in the same saloon as the other men—I have been there nine weeks—on this day some one told me something, and I went upstairs and opened the door, and saw the prisoner and the prosecutor struggling on the floor—I could not say who was underneath—I did not see the chair-leg there—I parted them, and they went downstairs—when I went into the room the prosecutor had not lost his senses, nor did he look in a fainting condition—I saw blood coming from a straight cut on the prisoner's forehead—blood was coming from his nose, and downstairs he showed me a bite on his finger—during the eight weeks I have known the prisoner he has been very peaceable and quiet with all of us, that is his character.
Cross-examined. There are three assistants besides the prisoner and me—previous to my being told by some one, I heard no sound—I had no difficulty in parting the men—I said nothing to them—they were making a noise, and speaking in a language which I did not understand—they went out of the room and downstairs before I did—the prisoner's face was covered with blood, and I could see it came from a wound—the prosecutor had blood on him, not so much as the other; there was no wound where it could come from—I saw them in the saloon not a minute after they went downstairs.
LOUIS LEFEVRAIL . I live at 9, Burton Crescent, Euston Square, and have been a hairdresser at this toilet club for ten months—when the prisoner came downstairs on this day he was bleeding freely from his nose, not from his head—he is a very peaceable, respectable, and honest man.
Cross-examined. I never heard of his having had a quarrel before—there was no blood flowing from the prisoner when I saw him, it was on his nose and hands.
AGNES SHOTTER . I am proprietress of this toilet club, 231, Stanhope Street—Goldstein was my foreman—the prisoner had been three or four months in my employment; he is a peaceable man, not quarrelsome.
Cross-examined. I saw the men when they came downstairs on this day—no complaint was made to me—the prisoner's face was covered with blood—the prosecutor was bruised, and had blood on his coat—the only open wound I saw was on the prisoner's forehead below the hair. Other witnesses spoke to the prisoner's peaceable character.
NOT GUILTY .
677. THOMAS RAISBECK and WILLIAM DAVIS, Unlawfully conspiring to obtain, and obtaining white lead and other articles, the goods of Thomas Farmiloe and another, by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
DAVIS PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. SCRUTTON and BOOTH Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended Raisbeck.
WILLIAM SHACKLE . I am clerk to Thomas and William Farmiloe, lead and glass merchants, of Rochester Row, Westminster—on the afternoon of 7th August, Davis, whom I had not seen before, came to the shop, and presented me with this order, purporting to be from Messrs. Prestige and Co., of Cambridge Wharf, customers of ours. (This was for 3 cwt. of white lead, 1 cwt. of putty, 10 gallons of linseed oil, and 10 gallons of turps. Signed H. West, Prestige and Co.)—he took the things away in a van belonging to Saunders—the order from Prestige and Co., which we thought was genuine, induced us to give him the goods.
FRANCIS BRYANT . I am clerk to Messrs. Farmiloe—on 11th August, Davis came and presented this order. (Dated Cambridge Wharf for 6 cwt. of white lead, 1 cwt. of driers, 1 cwt. of stone ochre, 10 gallons of boiled oil,10 gallons of turpentine, 20 gallons of linseed oil, 10 gallons of oak varnish,6 1-lb brushes, 1 dozen sash tools, 4 stock brushes, 5 cwt. of No. 10 zinc, and56 lbs. of solder. Signed H. West, Prestige and Co.)—I took it to our counting-house and had it passed in the usual way, and the goods, which were of the value of £34, were delivered to Davis—the invoice price of the white lead was 22s. 6d.—the prisoner's representation that he came from Prestige and Co., and my master's signing the order, induced me to give him the goods—the day Davis was apprehended at Canning Town, I pointed him out to the inspector—the same day I went to his house, 14, Garberry Road, Canning Town—I there found twenty-two painter's brushes, and two rolls of zinc, part of the goods supplied with this order—the same day I went to Mr. Fisher at North Woolwich, where I found other goods, also part of the order.
Cross-examined. Davis represented that he was a builder, and that these things were wanted for building purposes—they were such things as a builder would require—14, Garberry Road is Raisbeck's house—he was not there when I wont—I went with Detective Beard; we fetched Raisbeck from the Freemasons' Tavern, and he knocked at the door, and we were let in—one roll of zinc was standing up in the passage, and one in the front parlour—the rolls were three feet high and three feet wide—at the back of the house is a place used as a workshop—Beard found the brushes; they and the zinc were the only part of the order found at Garberry Road.
FREDERICK MAGER . I am clerk to Messrs. Prestige and Co., builders, of Cambridge Wharf—they are customers of Messrs. Farmiloe—neither of these orders was given by Messrs. Prestige—there is no foreman named West in their employment.
BENJAMIN FISHER . I am a painter of 58, Portland Road, Tidal Basin—I do contract work—on Saturday, 9th August, I saw Raisbeck at Freemason's Road—he said he knew a party that had got some white lead and oil for sale cheap; I said I could do with it—I had known him previously—he said, "I don't know where he (meaning Davis) is, but if you come with me we will try to find him"—I
knew Davis by sight—we found him at the Freemasons' Tavern—Raisbeck introduced me to Davis; he said, "This is Mr. Fisher, who is come about the stuff you have for sale"—Davis said, "I have sold what I had to Mr. Abrahams, but if you tell me what you want, I can get you anything you require," or something to that effect; I then gave him an order for some white lead, oil, and turps, and Oxford ochre—I ordered no varnish, boiled oil, or brushes—I asked Davis the price of white lead; he said he thought it would be about 16s. a cwt.—he promised to deliver it about two o'clock on the following Monday, the 11th—on the 11th I waited all day for him; he did not turn up till the evening—about eight o'clock Raisbeck came to the door with Davis, and said, "We have got your stuff"—he said it was waiting down at the Freemasons' Tavern in the van—ultimately, I, Raisbeck, Davis, and the carman went there, and the goods were unloaded at my works at Silvertown—Raisbeck said at the house, "Do you know what your things come to?"—I said, "No"—he took a book similar to this out of his pocket, and said, "It comes to about £10"—nothing was said about brushes, because going along Davis said, "I have brought more than what you ordered; I have brought ten gallons of varnish, some driers, and some boiled oil; will you take the lot?"—I said, "It must be at a low price then, because I have no immediate use for it"—Raisbeck said at the house, "You had better bring some cash with you"—I took £5 with me, which I paid to Davis—I was to meet him at the Prince of Wales public-house the following evening to have an account with him—they did not keep the appointment—next evening Raisbeck came to the house about nine o'clock, and said, "Here is Davis, he wants £2 tonight bad"—I declined to give him £2; I said, "He can have £1 if it is any use to him"—Raisbeck said, "Very well, you had better give it to him himself"—I went out and gave it to Davis—I took Bryant to my works, and he identified the goods as those supplied by Farmiloe—on the Monday night Raisbeck said he had some brushes that were of no use to him, and I could buy them if I liked—I said I would call round and see them—I called round on the Tuesday evening, I think it was, and he was not at home.
Cross-examined. I am only a painter, and do not execute building contracts—I have known Raisbeck seven or eight years, he is a plumber and zinc-worker—the greater part of the time I have lived near Garberry Road, and before that he was living at Plumstead—during the time I have known him he has always borne the character of a respectable man—he was a member of Lady Ash-burton's mission—he said, "I don't know whether he has sold them yet, but if you will come with me I will try and find him"—he did not tell me first of all it was Davis who had the things to sell; he said a party—I formed the impression that perhaps Davis had sold them—the conversation with Davis and Raisbeck was in the Freemasons' Tavern—it lasted a few minutes, or perhaps a quarter of an hour—in the course of conversation it was suggested that some memorandum should be taken of what I would buy—Raisbeck said to Davis, "You had better take it down in writing properly, to make no mistake;" something like that—I then took out a piece of paper and wrote down the things I wanted—he did not say he had any goods, but that he could get me any I required, and I put down what I wanted, and then tore the leaf out of my book and handed
it to Davis—Raisbeck did not then interfere with his book—I did not see this till the goods were delivered; I never saw it at the Freemasons' Tavern—the only price we went into was that of white lead—until Monday evening Raisbeck said nothing after introducing me to Davis; he left us to discuss it—the first time I saw this book was on Monday evening, when Raisbeck said, "Do you know how much it comes to?" outside my door—Davis was there, and the sum was mentioned—Raisbeck said, "You had better bring some cash with you, because Davis wants some," and I brought £5 and paid it to Davis—when the goods were unloaded zinc and metal were left in the van—the place where the goods were unloaded, and from which they took the zinc and metal away, was in Silvertown, which is about a mile from "Garberry Road—the unloading was completed I daresay at nearly 9 o'clock—when Raisbeck came to my house some nights after I saw Davis standing some distance off against the lamp post—I said I could not give him more than £1 till I had had a bill or a settlement.
By the COURT. I do not usually purchase goods in this way, but knowing Raisbeck for some years I thought the thing was straightforward—Raisbeck is a zinc-worker and plumber.
CHARLES BEARD (Detective A). On 14th August I saw Raisbeck at the Freemasons' Arms Tavern—I called him outside, and said, "I am a police officer; I want you to give me an account of some zinc and solder and brushes that you have received from a man named Davis, who is in custody"—he said, "All that I know, he asked me to take them in to mind them for him"—I then went to No. 14, Garberry Road, where he said he lived—in the front passage I found a large roll of zinc, and in the front parlour another roll—in the-back bedroom, under the head of the bed, on the floor I found twenty-two brushes—Bryant, who was with me, identified them as Farmiloe's goods—I said to Raisbeck, "Your account is very unsatisfactory. I shall take you into custody for being concerned with Davis, for obtaining a great quantity of oils, white lead, and other articles from Messrs. Farmiloe"—he said, "Yes, that is all right"—I conveyed him to Canning Town; he was searched, and this book was found on him.
Cross-examined. Davis's address is in Queen's Road, Upton Park; I know nothing of that neighbourhood.
Cross-examined. I apprehended Davis at Argyll Road, Canning Town—on the way to the railway station Raisbeck was going in front with Beard—Davis said, "What has Raisbeck to do with it? No one knows about the job except myself"—Davis gave the address 151, Queen's Road, Upton Park—Garberry Road is nearer Canning Town where Fisher lives than Upton Park—the carman told me he came over the bridge, and came close by Upton Park.
At the close of the evidence the case was adjourned till next day, when one of the jurors did not appear. Another juror was added to the eleven; the notes of the evidence were read over to the witnesses by the shorthand writer, and they assented.
to him once—I never said he could not have the brushes without Davis's knowledge or anything of that kind.
EAISBECK received a good character— NOT GUILTY .
DAVIS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTH Defended Duke.
WILLIAM CHARLES TYLER . I am manager to Benjamin Hyams, of Hoxton Street, a licensed victualler; I live on the premises—on Sunday, 20th July, I was aroused about four a.m.—it seemed as if someone was breaking through and getting on the top of the railings that protect the lower part of the front window—I heard the noise twice—I went down, but found nothing—on going down the second time, I found some-one must have been in, because I missed three shillings or more in farthings, and the key of the back door, and a threepenny and sixpenny piece with holes in—I kept them on the top of the patent till behind the bar—the windows and shutters were in ordinary condition—a young person, by getting over the railings that protect the lower part of the front window could get through a space of about five inches, between the window and the post that holds up the revolving shutters—the younger prisoner could get through quite easily—then he would hare to go through a swing door, which he would push to get into the bar—he went out by the back door, breaking a skylight.
Cross-examined. The first time I came down I did not think of looking for such things as farthings—the noise was like someone climbing up rails—I looked at the rails, but saw no one-my wife aroused me the second time—Duke lives in the neighbourhood—I did not see him that day till he was arrested.
Re-examined. I can swear to the key and coins; I can partly identify the coppers, because they are in a beery, sticky state—the window was in an ordinary condition when I came down.
ELIZA GEE . I live at 201, Hoxton Street, on the opposite side to this public-house—at four o'clock a.m., on 20th July, I was looking out into the street and noticed the prisoners walking along—Ray got in at the side of the door, and Duke watched through the window while he was inside—I am quite sure of them.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. I was at the window twenty minutes after the men went in before a policeman came—I sent and told him—our men were gone to a fire that night, and I had to sit up to let them in—I am a publican—when the policeman came round I told him-Duke watched outside till I told the policeman, and while the policeman was inside he ran away—I lost sight of him then for a time—I am sure as to Ray; they were talking together—I may have said at the court below, "I am not quite sure of Ray," I was nervous.
HENRY WHITWORTH (Policeman G 425). About 3.10 a.m. on Sunday, 20th July, I saw the prisoners at the top of Hoxton Street, in the doorway of a big cigar factory in St. John's Road, seven or eight minutes walk from this house—I next saw them in Feliham Street—about four o'clock I saw them coming up St. John's Road, and from information I had received I took them into custody for loitering—I searched them,
and found on Duke 2s. 6d. and three farthings, a box of matches and six pence, which were sticky—on Ray I found these twenty-four keys, including that of the prosecutor, a box of matches, a candle, and a Jubilee 3d. and 6d., both with holes through them, 1s. l¼d. in coppers, and a knife.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. When I first saw them standing in a doorway, they both ran away when they saw me—they stood for five minutes as I came towards them—I followed them some distance—I did not blow my whistle—I tried to find them again—I found them in Feltham Street, and they ran away again; I blew my whistle the second time, and Constable 456 answered—I charged them with being suspected persons loitering for the purpose of committing a felony—they said nothing, but went quietly with me to the station—they had no chance to run away—all the keys were tied together, as they are now.
W. C. TYLER (Re-examined). The 3d. and 6d. were of the Jubilee pattern; I don't know if they were both of the Jubilee year.
Ray stated in his defence that he got the farthings in gambling.
RAY— GUILTY of entering the house in the night-time and stealing. — Six Months' Hard Labour. DUKE— GUILTY of receiving . He then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony in July, 1889.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TYRRELL Prosecuted.
JAMES WHITE . I am a trimming warehouseman, at 35, Basinghall Street—I have known the prisoner for some years; he comes from the same town as I do—on Friday, 8th August, he came to me and asked if I knew Mr. Posner, of Hammersmith—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I have got a cheque of his; will you cash it?"—I said, "I don't mind that"—he said I was to take £1 that I had previously lent him, and gave him the cash, and he gave me this cheque. (On the London and County Bank, for £9 10s. 6d., payable to Mr. Hutchings, drawn by J. Posner)—I saw the prisoner endorse it "J. E. Hutchings"—it was not payable till the Monday—I gave him these two cheques for £2 10s. 6d. and £6—I gave the cheque from the prisoner to my son, who paid it into the bank—I received a communication from the bank about it, and in consequence I stopped my cheque for £6—on the Tuesday I saw the prisoner and told him what had occurred; he said he could not make it out—I said the bank said the cheque was not their customer's signature, and asked him how he came by it; he said he had got it through the post—I said, "From whom?"—he said, "J. Posner, I suppose"—I said, "If J. Posner owes you an account, you have got the account in your day book or ledger," but he could not or would not show it to me, but shuffled out of it—I asked him to show me any memorandum that came with the cheque; he would not do it—he made an appointment to see me at my residence, 49, Taunton Street, Brixton, at eight o'clock—instead of keeping the appointment I found this letter in my letter box as I was going to bed—it is in the prisoner's writing. (This stated that he teas unable to call that day, but would be at his office next morning, when it would be all right)—I waited at my office for an hour or an hour and a half next morning, but the prisoner never came—then I went to his residence, and some time in the evening I met him going into his place—I told him what
had occurred—he came back to my residence; I sent for the police and charged him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. On the day I changed the cheque you asked me to give you a reference to a Bradford house you wanted to be agent for—I wrote a memorandum saying I had known you for some years—immediately the cheque was returned I wrote to the firm and said I wished to withdraw my recommendation—I told you Posner was a customer of mine—I said I would give you £2 10s. 6d. and a cheque for £6 when your cheque had been cleared—when I told you the cheque was returned you said you were very much surprised—I said I had never seen a cheque of Mr. Posner's before—you did not tell me you had no trading account with Posner.
Re-examined. He could produce nothing to show he had an account with Posner, or that the cheque came by post—the £6 cheque was cashed with a tradesman of mine who brought it to me.
JOHN POSNER . I am an outfitter at 7 and 9, King Street, Hammersmith—I have an account at the London and County Bank—no part of this cheque was written by me; it is not my signature; it was not written by my authority—I saw it first in the Police-court—I have known the prisoner about eight or ten years—I owe him no money.
Cross-examined. Hitherto I have known you as a respectable man; you were a traveller in the wholesale clothing business when I first knew you.
ALFRED GRIMWOOD BUCKINGHAM . I am a cashier at the London and County Bank—on August 9th, 1890, this cheque was presented, and was marked like this by one of our cashiers—it is the last cheque out of a book issued to Mr. J. Rogers, a schoolmaster, on April 5th, 1887—his account was closed in August, 1887, through a solicitor—I do not know where he is.
GEORGE HENRY WATSON . I am a clerk in the Metropolitan and Birmingham Bank, Cannon Street Branch—this cheque for £2 10s. 6d. was presented on 8th August, and paid across the counter—Mr. White is our customer.
The prisoner in his defence said the cheque came to him by post, and that he believed it was perfectly right, and had no time to find the letter it came with.
GUILTY OF UTTERING .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TYRRELL Prosecuted.
GEORGE ALFRED PETTILEAU . I live at the International Club, Trafalgar Square—I am a journalist, and a member of the Institute of English Journalists—on 7th August I went to the Alhambra with my father and another friend—I left there and went for a smoke, and went to my friend's club, 172, Oxford Street—I was in Rupert Street about one or a little past; about the corner of Archer Street I was pounced on by three or four men from behind, and robbed of my gold watch and chain—I had on a morning coat—I struggled to the best of my ability, but was overpowered—I shouted "Help," but two or three people in the street ran away instead of assisting me—after I had got rid of those who
had my elbows joined together behind, there were some behind who knocked my head with a knuckle-duster, I believe—I was bleeding on the top of my head from two places—when I saw the prisoner I began to knock him with my umbrella; a policeman came, and two other policemen came about three minutes afterwards—I said to the policeman, in the prisoner's hearing, "That man has robbed me of my watch; take him in charge"—I don't believe the prisoner said anything—I had three wounds on me; my knee-cap was in a fearful state, considering that I had sciatica; the skin of the knee-cap was broken—I had two cuts on the scalp, and my left wrist was sprained—I went with the constable to the station—the inspector charged the prisoner, who said nothing—I went with the policeman to Charing Cross Hospital, where my wounds were attended to—next morning I appeared at the Police-court; I went away the same evening to Boulogne, where I was fourteen days in bed.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. As I ran down the street I said, "Help! murder! police! that man has stolen my watch"—I shouted out, "My watch"—it had been stolen when you began the struggle, but I am nearly positive you were the robber—I charged you as soon as my wounds were a little better—I said I wanted my watch, and that I was certain you were one of the parties—I struck you in self-defence; I am sorry my umbrella was too weak—very likely you passed my watch to your associates.
Re-examined. There might have been three men—I saw the men in front of me knocking my head; the prisoner was with the other men.
EDWARD BAILEY (Policeman C 421). On the morning of 8th August I was on duty in Shaftesbury Avenue—I heard calls of "Police" and "Murder" coming from Archer Street—I ran and saw the prisoner with the prosecutor, both lying on the ground struggling—I caught hold of the prisoner; the prosecutor said, "My watch! my watch! that man has my watch"—the prisoner said nothing—that was as soon as I came up—I took the prisoner to the station—the prosecutor was brought in shortly afterwards by another constable—the Inspector took the charge one and a half or two hours afterwards; the prosecutor was very much excited, we could not get anything from him at first—he had two severe cuts on the head, a severe black eye, and he complained of a sprained wrist and a graze on his knee—I saw the graze at the hospital, where I took him after the Inspector had taken the charge—the prisoner made no reply to the charge—the prosecutor's head was dressed at the hospital, not his knee—the prisoner gave an address; I made inquiries, and then said to the prisoner, "You don't live there"—he then gave another address, 339, Liverpool Road, Islington.
Cross-examined. Both addresses were in Liverpool Road—I caught hold of both of you when I came up—you said nothing when you got up—you were bleeding from the head—you went to the station quietly—the prosecutor wished to get out of the station to have his head dressed.
TOM DUKES (Policeman C 246). On the morning of 8th August I was on duty in Berwick Street—I heard cries of "Police" and "Murder"—I ran into Archer Street, and saw Bailey taking the prisoner away from the prosecutor—they were together on the footway—I went up; no one said anything—I took hold of the prosecutor, and the last witness took hold
of the prisoner—the prosecutor said he had been robbed—the prisoner could hear it; he said nothing—we took them to the station—afterwards I came and searched the street—just where they had been struggling on the footway I found this piece of chain, and the handle of an umbrella which the prosecutor identified, and a hat which the prisoner identified—there was blood there—the prosecutor had two cuts on the head, his knee-cap put out, and a sprained wrist—I was present when the prisoner was charged; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I did not hear you say when you got up that you had been assaulted and knew nothing about the case.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said he met the prosecutor running down the street, shouting out, "My watch" that the prosecutor attacked him and tore his coat off, and that he had to defend himself, and they fell to the ground together.
GEORGE ALFRED PETTILEAU (Re-examined by the Prisoner). You were one of the men that knocked me about—you were feeling my pockets; I felt the movement—I saw you feeling my pockets while I was struggling—I cannot say if you had that coat on.
681. JOHN CHARLES SHERIDAN (28) PLEADED GUILTY ** to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences £432, with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of felony at Leeds in May, 1886; also to stealing a blank cheque, the goods of James Forbes, and others.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. There was another indictment against the prisoner for forgery.
OLD COURT.—Friday, September 12th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and MUIR Prosecuted; 'MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and
CHARLES GEORGE JONES . I am a carman, and live at 50, Hertford Road,—on Wednesday afternoon, 30th July, about twenty-five minutes past four, I was at the Wagon and Horses, Kingsland, with Lambert and Wheeler, and a man named Gray—Lambert and Wheeler were singing and dancing—Mrs. Peck was serving in the bar; she asked them to go out; they did not go; they took no notice—Mrs. Peck turned round and said, "I have got somebody in the other bar to protect me"—she did not point to anybody—I saw the prisoner in the private bar aside of Mrs. Peck—we were in the middle bar—Mrs. Peck went to the further side, opened the flap and let the prisoner in behind the bar; he did not say anything, but he drew a pistol from his right-hand pocket and shook it at
us three times—he put it back again, and Mrs. Peck pushed him out the backway into the yard—Lambert got up, and Mr. Peck came out of the same bar and hit me in the face and turned me out, and me and Lambert went out into the back yard—I did not go into the back yard at all; I went in the further side bar where the prisoner was at first, the private bar; Lambert went out through the door into the back—in about ten minutes he came back into the middle bar where Wheeler was—I called them out—I saw the prisoner in Hertford Road, coming from De Beauvoir Square way towards Downham Road, outside the house of Newman, the sweep; he was in the road—he passed me; I did not hear him say anything—I called the other two men out; I was alone when the prisoner passed me—when they came out we walked down towards Downham Road—Lambert and Wheeler went first; I was about eight yards behind them—the prisoner was then at the corner of Downham Road, outside the baker's shop; he turned round, took two or three steps in front, drew the, pistol from his pocket, and shot Lambert; I heard a second shot, and I fell down on my hands and knees and ran over to Mr. Wady's cabyard—I heard three shots altogether; I heard the third shot as I was running to the cabyard—I did not see what happened at the third shot—Lambert was about three or four yards from the prisoner when he was shot—Wheeler was opposite Lambert, about two yards from him—the second shot was pointed towards the Wagon and Horses; I can't say it was pointed at anybody; it was pointed at me; I was up against the brick wall—I don't say he fired at me; it was pointed to me—I saw the pistol in his hand—I saw Lambert fall—I did not see any sign of the bullet from the second shot—we had no intention of going after the prisoner—Lambert was going to St. Bartholomew's Hospital to see his little boy there.
Cross-examined. I met Lambert and Wheeler at the Wagon and Horses—I had not seen them before that day—when I first went in there Lambert asked me to go with him to the hospital to see his child—I did not say at the Police-court that I and Lambert went into the yard to make for the prisoner; I have witnesses to prove that I never said it—I did not hear Mrs. Peck say, "Merciful God! what shall I do?"—I did not hear her scream—I did not hear her ask the prisoner to protect her; I did not hear her open her mouth at all—I did hear her say, "I have got somebody here to protect me"—I don't know why she said that—Gray went out soon after I went in; he was not turned out—I did not see him attempt to climb over the bar—I am not a companion of Lambert and Wheeler; I used to work for Lambert when he was better off—I did not hear the prisoner ask why we were following him—I did not hear Lambert or Wheeler say they were going to rip the b—up—I did not hear the prisoner say, "Don't follow me;" or see him hold his hand up—we did not start after him to make for him or bounce him; I don't know the meaning of bouncing—I do not use this public-house often; I ain't in there once a month.
JANE HARRIET PECK . I am the wife of Thomas Peck, the landlord of the Wagon and Horses, in Hertford Road, Kingsland—on the afternoon of 30th July I was serving in the bar—there were five men there, Jones, Lambert, Wheeler, Gray, and another, I cannot tell his name—they came in after lunch, two o'clock—they were in and out for several hours, to my terror, until shortly before four, when my husband put them out—they were in the public bar, the middle bar—there are four bare—
I saw the prisoner come into the private bar about half-past three—the men in the public bar had been behaving terribly rude, using obscene language, and calling me terribly bad names—Gray, Lambert, and Wheeler tried to get over the counter; I begged of them to keep their places, if not I should send for the police, but no one dare go—the prisoner was there at the time—my husband had gone up to dress, but he felt tired and went to sleep—I screamed, and that brought him down—I screamed because Lambert struck me in the face, and called me a filthy name; I held him by the collar, and while struggling and screaming my husband came down—Lambert tried to get into the house; I prevented him, and said the dog was loose in the pot-house—he was underneath the flap—I raised the flap, and held him till my husband came—the prisoner was not in the house at that time; I did not see him go—I did not see him behind the counter before I took hold of Lambert—I did not open the flap for the prisoner to come through—I saw nothing of a revolver—I know of nothing that provoked him to come through the bar; he had no right to pass there, it is private—my husband put Lambert and Wheeler out, and Silly Charlie, Jones, or Vester, that was the name he was locked up in last, he was the one that rushed in on my husband; he struck at him twice, and said he would blow his brains out—after they were out I heard three shots.
Cross-examined. We have had this house six months—during that time there have been frequent disturbances with these people, the two that were shot and several others—my life has been threatened I might say a hundred times by a number of men who I have seen with Lambert and Wheeler, and since this tragedy I have been assaulted several times—I have had brain fever—I think I have a clear recollection of what occurred on this occasion—the prisoner was there at first; I did not see him leave; he was not in the house when the row was going on between Lambert and me; he was there when Gray attempted to clamber over the bar—there was a three-branch chandelier in the middle bar, that was broken by Gray that day—we had a notice up in the bar that no trust was given—that was in consequence of these people trying to get drink for nothing; they were in the habit of coming there to victimise us—I can't say that I called out, "Merciful God! who will protect me?" very likely I did—I had sent for the police two or three times that day, but the people were frightened to go for them.
Re-examined. The police had called four or five times a day—I sent men and a child and a girl for them on this day, but they would not come—I had no servant only in the morning—Lambert, Wheeler, and Jones had drink in the house that afternoon; I served them; Gray called for it, and never paid for it; I trusted him 1s, 9d. to treat them, they were served two or three times; among five men that does not amount to much—I don't think they were the worse for drink, only Gray, the man that was the cause of it; he had left—I had seen the prisoner in the house before that day, twice I think; Saturday was the first time, and I think on Monday; but I would not say—he was in the private bar on the previous Saturday, when he was introduced to my husband as having just arrived from America—on the afternoon in question I spoke to the prisoner while the disturbance was going on—he could hear the disturbance—I cannot tell whether I spoke to him aboutit; it was merely general conversation—I did not to my knowledge ask him to
protect me, or to do anything for that purpose; I said I would send for the police, and I did—he could have come through the flap inside the bar while I was standing there, and could have produced a revolver without my seeing it—I could not say positively that I did not invite him inside the bar, or lift up the flap for him to come in—I have no recollection of doing so—I did lift up the flap, that was to get hold of Lambert, and prevent his getting into my place; but I have really been so very ill with brain fever, and have been twelve days in bed, that I cannot recollect that I lifted up the flap—I had brain fever the day after this, when they threw a sixteen-pound muller at my head, and I was laid up and could not go to the Police-court.
By the JURY. My husband ejected the three men out of the private door, and I put the strap on the door to prevent them following him.
THOMAS PECK . I am the landlord of the Wagon and Horses—on the afternoon of 30th July I was upstairs in my room dozing—I heard my wife scream, which called me down—I saw Lambert at the door at the foot of the stairs, trying to get through to my private apartments—I said, "You can't go there, the dog is loose and will bite you"—I put him back and put him out—Wheeler and Silly Charlie, as they call Jones, met me at the second compartment, and I succeeded in pushing them back towards the front—Jones made a strike at me, I warded it off and caught his hand and forced it back, and made him hit himself with his own fist—I succeeded in getting them all out at the front door; Lambert was the last that went out; as he was going out he apologised to me for what he had said to my wife—I fastened the door, and then went round the counter to the middle bar, to attend to my business—the next thing I saw was someone pass by the door towards Downham Road—I could not recognise who it was; he must have got thirty or forty yards past the door when I heard somebody, I believe it was Jones, say, "There he goes"; and I saw Jones, Lambert, and Wheeler run past the middle entrance towards Downham Road—they were about thirty or forty yards behind the man before they commenced running—I jumped over the counter to get to my sign-post at the corner, and I saw the prisoner at the corner, against the baker's shop; I could not hear what he said, but he put up his left hand so, and with his right hand he took a pistol and fired; that took no effect; the second time he killed Lambert, and the third time he killed Wheeler—I think all the three shots were fired within two or three seconds, as fast as they could be fired; but there was a long interval after holding up his hand before he fired—the three men were still running after him when he held up his hand; he did not move towards them—when the first shot was fired Jones was next the kerb; they ran breast by breast on the pavement—Lambert was in the centre, and then Wheeler—the prisoner was also on the pavement—after he had fired he went down Downham Road, and that was all I saw of him.
Cross-examined. I had only seen the prisoner twice before that day; he had come in as a casual customer; I believe he came in with Currie on the Saturday or Monday—I did not say to Currie, in the prisoner's presence, "This is a very rough neighbourhood, and I shall have to clear out soon"—I did not say so at the Police-court—I might have said it was a rough neighbourhood—I had seen Wheeler and Lambert outside in front of the bar the whole morning, kicking up a great disturbance on the pavement—when they were running after the prisoner
they continued to shout out—I could not hear what they said—I could not say in which way the prisoner pointed the pistol, whether towards the men or slightly over their heads—I believe the first shot was fired in the air, apparently to warn the men, and the other two in the direction of the men.
By the COURT. There are a class of men who want to get us out of the place; they have been trying to do so ever since I have been there—I want to keep my place respectable, which it has not been, unfortunately, for many years, and a number of roughs resent that and want to get rid of me.
DENNIS COCKERELL . I am a cooper, and live at 4, Baltic Court, Baltic Street, St. Luke's—on the afternoon of 30th July I was in the Wagon and Horses, in the public bar, with Alfred Ongar—I heard voices in the next bar; they were very boisterous—I recognised the voices of Lambert and Gray—I saw Jones in the middle bar—the landlady was serving behind the bar; she became excited, and she threw water over them from the well of the bar—the men became more excited—I saw the prisoner in the private bar; he stood up at the bar, and the landlady spoke to him, as if asking him what he required—the prisoner lifted up the flap and went behind the counter, and walked up in front of the men, as if to expostulate with them—I could not catch if he did say anything; for the moment he seemed to pause, as if he did not know how to act—the men were excited, and tried to push him—the landlady got between them, and pushed him gently back towards the entrance of the bar where he had come in; and as she pushed him back a little he pulled a revolver, I cannot say from which pocket, and flourished it before the men—he was then gently forced back by the landlady towards the entrance of the bar, and the moment he got to the entrance Mr. Peck came on the scene; he had got to the back door, and he went through there, or was gently pushed through, and disappeared at the back, and that was all I saw of him—the three men in the middle compartment followed round to the back door where the prisoner had disappeared after they were ejected by Mr. Peck, and I looked outside the door and saw Wheeler and Lambert staggering outside the door, as they were being pushed out, and I noticed Jones take his coat off as if to challenge the landlord to fight—I then went back to the bar—I afterwards heard three shots—I went out and saw one man lying on the pavement—I did not go further.
MARTHA RUSSELL . I live at 3, Blackstraw Place, Hertford Road—between four and half-past on this afternoon I saw a man get out of the kitchen window of the Wagon and Horses, and go towards Hertford Road—I then went to the street door and saw the same man going on towards Downham Road—I did not know the man—after that I heard two reports, and I remember no more, I fainted.
ROSE CHAMBERS . I live at Hoxton—on 30th July, about four, I was outside the Wagon and Horses, and heard a noise inside, and singing and dancing—I looked through the middle door and saw three men there, and the landlady behind the bar—I saw the prisoner in the private bar—I saw him lift the flap and go behind the bar—he drew his revolver and told the men to go out, or he would shoot them—I then saw him go back towards the private bar, that was the last I saw of him in the house—I then spoke to Newman, the sweep, outside, and walked up
Hertford Road to the corner of Downham Road, and I saw the prisoner holding the revolver, pointing it at the men—I was about nine or ten yards from him—the men were standing still—I did not see him fire—I heard three shots.
Cross-examined. I was frightened and ran away—I did not know Newman before—I saw him at the Police-court; he spoke to me there, in the waiting-room—he only asked me if I was the one that spoke to him, he did not ask me about what I had heard inside the public-house.
GEORGE BROWN . I am an organ-grinder, and live at Bethnal Green—on the afternoon of the 30th July I was in Hertford Road—I saw the prisoner walking towards me—three persons came out of the Wagon and Horses, and walked behind him, one of them called out "Hi!" the prisoner made half a stop, and turned and looked at them—he then walked on; they called "Hi!" a second time—he again stopped close against the baker's shop, up against the dead wall—the men kept walking—he pulled out the revolver, and at the first shot two men fell—he then fired another shot, and the second man fell—he fired a third shot—I could not say where that went; I saw Jones and the three men were behind each other, quite close; Jones ran up against the shutters and pretended to fall—he was not the man that fell at the second shot—after the third shot the prisoner said, "Lie down there dead, you b—s!" and he walked round the corner with the revolver at his side, down Downham Road—I followed him with Newman; when we got round the corner Newman said, "We will pin him"—the prisoner put up the revolver, and said, "Come on, I have got some more left"—there were a number of people following him after me and Newman—Newman jumped behind him, caught him by the arms, and caught the revolver—he had pointed the revolver twelve or thirteen times at the people who were following.
Cross-examined. I know Knifton; he came out as the prisoner took the revolver out of his pocket—the crowd threw stones at the prisoner, and threatened to lynch him after the shots; he pointed the revolver before the stones were thrown—I have known Newman three or four years—I did not hear the prisoner say anything about the people following him, or use the word "Fellows," he called out, "Lie down dead," pretty loud, they could have heard it—he did not hold up his hand—I say that the first two shots killed the two men—Jones was not nearer to the prisoner than I was, I was in the middle of the road—he was about four or five yards from the prisoner—there is a wall by the baker's shop, and" a little place in it for the baker's shutters, I was standing opposite that; the prisoner was level with me.
Re-examined. I did not know Lambert, Wheeler, or Jones before this day, I might have seen them about the neighbourhood—they were not associates or companions of mine.
FREDERICK RAMSAY . I am a bootmaker, of 34, Hertford Road—my shop is two doors from the corner of Downham Road, opposite the baker's—about four on this afternoon, as I was sitting in my shop, I heard some one say, "Do you follow me?" or "Will you follow me?"—I looked up and saw the prisoner on the opposite path, going towards Downham Road, and two men a short distance behind him, one behind the other; they appeared to be walking in the ordinary way—I then saw
the prisoner turn round and take a pistol from his breast pocket, or in that direction, arid fire at the first man, and he fell; he then fired again, that shot appeared to miss; he then fired a third shot, and the next man fell—he then turned round and turned the corner of Downham Road—at the time he pulled the revolver from his pocket the men were still walking towards him; I could not say that they stopped at all before he fired, they appeared to be in the act of walking towards him at the time.
Cross-examined. I saw no one in the road but the prisoner and the two men following him on the pavement—I did not see Jones there—I knew Lambert and Wheeler, seeing them about the streets; I did not associate with them—I have only been once in the Wagon and Horses, at an inquest; I don't go to public-houses—it is not a quiet house; it is frequented by desperate characters—I have lived in the neighbourhood thirty years—after the prisoner had fired the shots, I did not see him point the revolver at any persons until the crowd began throwing stones—I followed him.
Re-examined. Numbers were following him; I think I was the nearest to him when I started, but others got in between us.
GEORGE TURNER . I am a fishmonger; my shop is in Hertford Road, on the same side as the Wagon and Horses; Downham Road is between us, and about 30 or 40 feet from my shop—about half-past four I was standing outside my shop, and saw the prisoner coming along from the direction of the Wagon and Horses, on the pavement on my side, and two or three men seemed to be hurrying behind him—I saw him stop, turn round and fire; I am not sure about three shots, they went off so quickly—I could not say whether the first shot hit or missed—after that he turned round, put his hands in his pockets, and walked down Downham Road.
Cross-examined. The two men were drunk; they did not seem to be able to get on as quickly as they could; they seemed to be falling forwards.
JAMES NEWMAN . I am a sweep, and live at 35, Hertford Road, next door but one to the Wagon and Horses—about four in the afternoon of 30th July the girl Chambers spoke to me, and I saw the prisoner pass my door towards Downham Road—after he had passed, I saw Silly Charlie, and the next thing I heard was "Hi!"—I saw Wheeler and Lambert on the path; the prisoner must have passed them—it was one of the three who said "Hi!" I don't know which—they were walking on towards the prisoner, behind him—at the corner I saw him turn round and face the men, and I heard a report and saw Lambert fall; 1 think he fell at the first shot, but I would not be sure, I was rather too far away—I heard a second shot, and a third, and I saw Wheeler fall; I could not say whether at the second or third shot—the prisoner then went round Downham Road; I followed him—he pointed the pistol fourteen or fifteen times at me—I could not hear what he said—Knifton went up beside him, and spoke to him, and seized him behind, and pinned his arms, and took the revolver from him and afterwards handed it to the police—I never saw the men run after the prisoner.
Cross-examined. They were not overtaking him—I could not say how far they were from him when he fired; I daresay they had got fourteen or fifteen yards from him; they were walking at a fairish pace, not fast—I heard them say, "Hi!" nothing else—Wheeler was a lodger of mine—I had seen
him outside the Wagon and Horses that morning; I could not say for how long; I had been to Hammersmith and back—I heard them inside the Wagon and Horses for two or three hours; I had not been inside—I generally used to go in there; I might have been in that day—I was not there when they shouted out, "There he goes!"—I have not been there since this affair—I went there the next day—I did not throw a glass muller at the landlady; the Magistrate thought I did, and gave me a month for it—I went in with two or three others, Gibson and Ashton; Gray was not one of them; Gibson has worked for Wheeler—they said that I threw the muller at the landlady.
WILLIAM KNIFTON . I am an officer of the Royal Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals—I live at 61, Hertford Road—on 30th July I saw the prisoner in the Downham Road, running towards Islington—a crowd was running after him calling, "Stop thief!" and that he had shot somebody down the road—I followed, and got close to him—he pulled a revolver out from his inside breast pocket, and pointed it at me, and said, "I will"—the crowd began to throw stones at him—I walked with him about fifty yards, when we stopped running—I advised him to get into a cab with me or else they would kill him—he said, "All right, I will get one"—at the same time Newman sprang on to his arms—I then caught hold of Newman, and we all three fell to the ground—the three of us got hold of the revolver; Newman got it from him—the crowd began kicking him, and some jumped on him, put a rope round his neck, and all manner—we put him in a cart which was going towards the station, where we stopped.
Cross-examined. He pointed the revolver at me as he went along, not at anyone else—I first saw him about 350 yards from the corner of the Downham Road—I was going to No. 56—I saw the prisoner going towards the Southgate Road, 200 yards from where he was stopped—he turned to the right by the baker's—I was with him five minutes—I went with him to the corner of the Southgate Road, 285 yards further than No. 56, where he was stopped, and very nearly 600 yards from the Hertford Road—No. 56 is near the Culvert Road—he was coming the nearest way from the Wagon and Horses to the Southgate Road.
JOHN COCHRANE (Policeman). At 4.30 on 30th July, in consequence of information, I went to the Hertford Road and the corner of Downham Road by the baker's shop—I saw two men lying upon the pavement dead about twelve yards from the shop—I afterwards formally charged the prisoner at the station with the wilful murder of two men by shooting them with a revolver—I cautioned him in the usual manner that anything he said might be given in evidence against him—he said, "I decline to say anything about it."
Cross-examined. The neighbourhood is in a measure rough—the police had been called to quell disturbances—six weeks ago a detective had his collar-bone broken—the Wagon and Horses is frequented by roughs, also by working-men—by good characters and by public-house loafers—Wheeler and Lambert have been convicted several times.
you see how they have served me"—I took him along the Downham Road and Mortimer Road, and in St. Peter's Road, where the crowd was so furious that I had to get a cab to take him the rest of the way—the crowd called him a murderer, and hooted him—he said, "If I have done it, I suppose I shall have to meet my Maker."
Cross-examined. He looked as if he had been used very cruelly—Wheeler is one of a gang of desperate characters known to the police—they don't do much for a living, but hang about public-houses.
RICHARD MERCER (Sergeant J). I produce the revolver—I received it from Newman—it has six chambers—three of them were full of cartridges—I also received six cartridges from Gentleman and seventy-nine others from the prisoner's lodgings at 5, Southgate Road.
JOHN HERD GORDON . I live at 364, Kingsland Road—I am a registered medical practitioner—on the afternoon of 30th July I was fetched by a policeman to Hertford Road—I saw two bodies lying on the pavement—I examined them afterwards at the mortuary—Lambert had a bullet wound on the right side of the head—a bullet had entered to the left of Wheeler's right ear—that was the cause of death in each case—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination.
Cross-examined. Both were physically strong men—there was evidence of alcohol in both cases.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. There was another indictment for the wilful murder of John Wheeler, to which he PLEADED GUILTY in the hearing of the JURY, to manslaughter, and they found that verdict. MR. AVORY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence as to murder. Twenty Years' Penal Servitude in each case, the sentences to be concurrent.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.
JOHN TREHERNE . I live at 3, Mary Terrace, Camden Town—I am a builder's labourer—on Tuesday night, 12th August, I heard a quarrel and came down to Mrs. Riddell's room—she is another lodger in the same house—I saw the prisoner striking his wife right and left with his open hands, boxing her in her face—I could not count the blows, they followed rather quick—I got him upstairs into his own room—his wife remained downstairs—the prisoner undressed himself and remained upstairs about twenty minutes—then he came down and commenced striking her again with his open hand on the head and face—she said, "Oh, don't, you will kill me," and she had her hands up to her head—he was calling her names; I did not listen much; I got him away again—when I got him on the landing he called her a b—cow and a b—w—, and afterwards that he would cut her throat that very night—he did not seem drunk; he sat up firm, and knew what he was doing—after a time I heard knocking on the floor—I went up to see what he wanted—he wanted his wife—I went downstairs and
persuaded her to go up—she afterwards went and shut the door—I heard a scrambling about—Mrs. Green called for me—I put on my trousers and ran up to the room—Mr. Green was pummelling her in the face with his fist when I opened the door—this was about a quarter to one o'clock—she was bleeding from the nose and mouth when I took her away—I took her downstairs—I saw her the next morning—she was bleeding then very little—she was cleaning the blood off the stairs.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, You came down three times—you have had words before several times—you have conducted yourself as a lodger ought to—I have not spoken to you half a dozen times—you have been laid up with bronchitis and asthma—you worked hard when able to work, Sundays, holidays and all, to pay the rent—I do not know what the row was about—I was not there at the commencing of it—I think you provoked her by having a young woman on your lap; that was the commencement of the row—Mrs. Green said so—you had been a good husband as far as I know, but I had not much time to notice; I was away early, and home late—you stayed in of evenings, except when you went out with her—you struck her nose against the door several times with your hand.
ELIZABETH RIDDELL . I live at 3, Mary Terrace, where the prisoner lived with his wife—she was sixty-four years of age—they quarrelled at 10.45 in my room—the prisoner called her a wicked old wretch, and struck her with his open hand on the side of her face—he went out for a quarter of an hour, and came back much excited with drink—he beat her again on the head with his open hand—Mr. Treherne came into the room and made him go upstairs—then Treherne went to bed, and the prisoner came and beat her again—they were parted again—he went upstairs again, and we locked the door—the prisoner came again and ordered his wife up—I heard a scream, and Mr. Treherne went at once—I met her on the stairs with her nose bleeding—she came to my room again, and remained there till four the next morning—I left her at 7.45 a.m. to go to work—her nose was then bleeding, but not much—the prisoner had been drinking—he was not in the habit of getting drunk.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I know you struck her three times—the row was about Alfred Green, her son's, sweetheart—she sat on your knee, and the wife was a very jealous woman—you parted that morning, the 12th, as usual, and kissed your wife—that was before the row—your wife told me the cause of the row, that you were irritable, and when you had drink she was frightened of you—I have known you three and a half years—up to the row I consider you lived comfortably—you told me your wife was cold natured, and had no affection—she was jealous of your grandchildren and your son's wife—I have heard her "go on" about them, but not on that occasion—she said you gave them money, but not then—I did not see what occurred in your room; she was more cheerful in the morning—she said she was going to the doctor—she had had a little drink—you have been a hardworking man, were away between six and seven, and in evenings rarely went out—trifling clots of blood have come from your wife's nose sometimes.
By the JURY. The deceased's nose bled nine years ago, three years ago, and within a month or two—she has been scarcely able to crawl, so weak.
By the COURT. When I met her on the stairs her nose was bleeding
fast—it went on bleeding when I left her; her nose was very much swollen; I could see nothing else.
ROBERT BROWN BETTY . I am a pharmaceutical chemist, of 6, Park Street—about nine a.m. on 13th August Sarah Green walked into my shop with a cloth to her nose—she said she wanted it stopped from bleeding—when she took the cloth down I found the blood running from under the nostrils—I gave her some acid, and put some cotton wool with a few drops of tincture of iron up the nostrils; in five minutes or so the blood came through the wool; I gave her another similar draught, a syrup, and another drop of iron; in a few minutes the bleeding stopped; in about ten minutes she complained of fulness in the throat, and began to cough; she seemed all right after that; she dropped the coin in paying me, but she picked it up before I got round the counter, and gave it to me, and I drew it across; in another five minutes or less she said she felt faint; she fell on the floor; I helped her up, got some one to try her pulse; at first it was apparently stopped, then went on all right again; finding she looked so bad, I sent for a doctor, and got strong liquid ammonia and put it under the nose—she sat in the chair again—the pulse apparently stopped, and she fell again—then I sent for another doctor—the second time she fell she was dead before a doctor came.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Bleeding of the nose is not uncommon—with a person who had it spontaneously, it would be likely to recur—she was a small woman, but not thin—she had a bag—I did not notice any marks on her—I cannot say whether she had been to my shop before.
JOHN CROSS , M.D. I live at 7, Stanhope Terrace, Regent's Park—about 9.30, on 13th August, I went to the chemist's shop, 6, Park Street—I found Sarah Green dead—she was blanched as if from loss of blood—death apparently had taken place from syncope and sinking from loss of blood from the nose—there was a lot of clotted blood on the right side of her nose, and a bruise on the nose, especially the right side—it might be caused by a blow or fall on a blunt surface some hours previous, it was not recent—on the Friday I made a further examination—I found two more bruises, one on the side of the right eye, and one over the right eye—they were very slight—one was almost over the right temple—I saw the bruise on the nose more clearly—a blow on the nose would cause the loss of blood.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The blows were indirectly the cause of death, in the way I have stated, because they caused the loss of blood, and the loss of blood caused death—nose bleeding is very common—once occurring it may occur again—clots of blood in the nose would be a sign of bleeding—her bag would not cause the wound on her nose, but quite a different injury; and it would have been recent—she suffered from a diseased heart and liver of old standing—I knew nothing of her—the liver would be affected by the heart and by alcohol—we find in such cases serosis; it is called ginger liver, or nutmeg liver—I should say the greater part of the diseased liver would be caused by a long-standing diseased heart—excitement and having no breakfast would be additional causes—her stomach was quite empty—a person suffering from heart disease would be likely to drop dead at any moment—probably earlier medical attention might have saved her—I have never lost a patient from bleeding of the nose, but there are
cases on record—Mr. Betty's treatment was judicious to plug the anterior inhales; of course, as a last resort, we have to plug the posterior inhales.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that his wife was jealous of him, and suspected him of secretly giving money to his grandchildren, and he had been very much provoked; he had a good character as a respectable and peaceable man.
Witnesses for the Defence.
Cross-examined. There was no dispute while I was there from 7.20 to 9.30—father did not come in and go out again—no one went to fetch drink.
ALFRED CHARLES GREEN . My mother bled at the nose throat, and years ago; she complained of a tickling sensation in the eight or nine said she would choke—the doctor syringed her nose, and she recovered—on 7th August mother complained she was very ill, and she asked me to come as often as I could, and my young woman, as she thought she would not live more than a week or two at most—the prisoner was always comfortable and kept a good home—I have not known him quarrel—I never saw him strike her.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 12th, 1890.
JOHN SCOTT . I am a carpenter, of 54, Chippenham Road, Paddington—I am the landlord of that house—on 31st July, a few minutes after nine p.m., I was in the front breakfast-room in the dark alone—I heard a noise at the front door—I next heard footsteps at the back kitchen entrance—I had fastened the door so that a key would not open it—I next heard noises upstairs—I lit a candle, went up, and saw a flash of a light in my bedroom—when I got to the door, a man rushed out—I held him a moment—he made for the front door—I followed and called for help—the man tried to get out, but the door was closed—the prisoner answered, "I am coming," and came out of the same room, my bedroom—he held me, got me from the first man, opened the front door, and let him escape—we wrestled; the prisoner with his elbow knocked me against the wall and escaped—I followed him down the street—Hall stopped him—I had fastened the front door at six o'clock—in my bedroom, where the men came out of, the things were all over the floor—my tat was on the mantelpiece of that room at 6.15—I saw no more of it till the officers came—I did not lose sight of the prisoner.
FRANK HALL . I live at 190, Warrington Road, North Kensington—I am employed by the Great Western Railway Company—on 31st July, about 9.15, I was near the prosecutor's house, and saw a man come from his door—I heard cries of "Help," and "Police"—the prisoner ran down the steps, rushed past me, and I followed—as we were running
the prisoner asked me to let him go—on turning the corner he said, "Look sharp, he is the man up there"—I said, "No, he is not, you are the man"—I stopped with him till the prosecutor and a constable came up.
ROBERT GODSALL (Policeman X 235). On 31st July I was in the Harrow Road about 9.20 p.m.—I saw the prisoner in the Middleton Road, in the custody of Hall and the prosecutor—he said, "I went up the steps to help him, and he blamed me for it"—I asked the prosecutor what the charge was—he said he did not know, he found the man in his house—I took the prisoner to the station—I went back to Chippenham Road—I found this jemmy in the front hall, and a hat.
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Police Sergeant X). I examined 54, Chippenham Road on 31st July—an entry had been effected by forcing the front door, which had marks on it corresponding to this jemmy—in the bedroom the drawers had been opened, two apparently forced by the small end of the jemmy, the room ransacked, the drawers turned out, and this candle—I found this saw at the prisoner's lodgings.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was passing the prosecutor's home and ran up the steps to help, when the prosecutor said, "You are one," and he ran away; that he knew nothing about the robbery, and that he bought the saw.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
JOHN KEITH . I am a sailor—on a Saturday evening, about the end of August, I was walking down the Commercial Road, about 8.15—I had £14 in my pocket shortly before I got to the Cambridge Music Hall, where I was going—four or five men were standing at a corner and started scuffling amongst themselves—one of them butted me in the stomach with his head, which knocked me down; the others said, "Pick him up"—while doing so my back trousers pocket near the hip was rifled—they ran away—I sang out, "I am robbed," and ran after them—I was tripped up several times—the prisoner made a bolt out of a door or alley-way and snatched my watch—I followed him, and saw a constable stop him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had not seen you till you took my watch.
By the COURT. I could not recognise any of them—I am sure the prisoner took my watch—I was sober.
ALFRED POLGATE . I was standing in the Commercial Road with a gentleman, when I saw a man leave three or four men standing at a corner, and strike the prisoner in the stomach, knocking him over; both rolled over and over on the ground; the man got up, looked at the prosecutor and walked away; I walked after him—I saw the prisoner run out of an alley-way and snatch the prosecutor's watch—I saw the policeman stop the prisoner.
JOSEPH WHITELOCK (Policeman H 111). From information I received, and hearing cries of "Stop thief," I chased the prisoner, who was at the head of a large crowd—I caught him—he said he knew nothing about the watch—the prosecutor identified him as the man who snatched the watch
—I searched him—no watch was found on him—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A man came to the station who did not see the robbery but saw a crowd—he could not identify you.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I heard a cry, 'Stop thief!' I ran, and the constable took me."
GUILTY of Stealing the Watch. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GR AIN and WARBURTON Defended.
HENRY WILLIAM RICHARDSON . I am a silversmith and pawnbroker, of Upper Street, Bryanston Square—I have known Weston since 1878, when he was an army student—I knew the circumstances of his being charged and convicted—I had previously had monetary transactions with him—I held a promissory note of his jointly with Miss Bilton—also two or three bonds, and I bought a horse from him and kept it in my stable—he came to me at the latter end of last September—I think that was the second time I saw him after he came out of prison—the first time I met him in Regent Street—I have tried to fix the date of his coming, but cannot; I think it was the end of September—he talked about his being in prison, and how he was treated; then I asked him if he had seen Lady Dunlo—he said he had seen her once or twice—I think that was on that occasion—the next time he brought me a cheque for £200 payable, to Lady Dunlo, and purported to be signed by Mr. J. Wertheimer—he told me it was signed by Mr. Wertheimer—it was dated 1st November—before I returned it I took this copy of it (produced, U. N., No. 34,475)—I kept it two or three days—he said it was a payment of money by Mr. Wertheimer to Lady Dunlo, and it was intended to be a present on her birthday, which was the same day as his own—I asked him the date; he said, "29th October"—he asked me if I would cash it, but hold it over till after the date mentioned, 1st November, Lady Dunlo's birthday—he did not say why he possessed it, and I did not ask him—I told him to leave it and I would consider the matter—he left it—I said, "It might be necessary for me to take it to the bank"—(I had never seen Mr. Wertheimer; I knew his name well)—he made no objection—I asked him where Mr. Wertheimer was living—he said, "No. 3, King Street, St. James's—I think he called twice afterwards to know if I had made inquiries—the third occasion I gave it back, having taken a copy of it—I said I was very busy at the time; I did not care to entertain it—he took it away—he produced this letter as it is, not in an envelope—he said the letter was sent by Mr. Wertheimer with the cheque to Lady Dunlo (Addressed, "Darling Belle," and written on Mr. Wertheimer's stamped paper, signed "Isadore Wertheimer" and enclosing cheque)—I next saw him, I think, on 5th October, four or five days after I had returned the cheque—he asked me if I would cash this £50 cheque that he had with him. (The £50 cheque teas dated 3rd October, and endorsed "Isabel Dunlo")—the cheque was in the same condition as it is now—he said that must be held over till the 29th of October, as he had not succeeded in arranging about the first one; would I do it—I compared the cheque with the copy I had taken of the other, and found it had the following number in
the book, "U.N., 34,476"—he said Lady Dunlo endorsed it—I gave him four £10 notes and £5 in gold—I consented to hold it over till 29th October—this is the receipt I took—it was written by my manager and signed by Weston: "5th October. Received of Mr. Richardson the sum of £45, being the amount I am authorised by Lady Dunlo to take for the cheque drawn by Isadow Wertheimer in favour of Lady Dunlo for £50"—I think I dictated that receipt—the words, "by Lady Dunlo," were written by Weston in my office—I said, "Fill in ‘By Lady Dunlo'"—I wanted that in, that he was authorised by Lady Dunlo to take £45—about 12th October he brought me this letter, asking me to lend him £10—it purports to be addressed by Lady Dunlo to him—it is headed '"Saturday"—I did not lend it—he said Lady Dunlo was going to get a further cheque from Mr. Wertheimer—on 17th October he brought this cheque for £300, and said, "Will you cash it?"—I said, "I will not do it unless I can pay the £50 into my bankers; I will not go behind my word. I promised not to pay it in till the 29th. Tell Lady Dunlo what I say, and ask her if I may pay the £50 in, then I will consider the other one"—he went away—he came back and said, "She is perfectly willing"—I said, "Write an authority then"—then he wrote this in my office: "On behalf of Lady Dunlo it is hereby agreed that the £50 cheque of Isadora Wertheimer is to be cashed immediately"—I saw him write it—I would not have it—he took it away—I paid into my bankers the £50 cheque on 16th—I have not had it returned—he brought the cheque for £300 again on 17th with the letter, written on the Pelican Club paper—I said I had not heard from my bankers, and was not prepared to go on—I said I did not care about it; my bankers had not had time to post the £50 cheque back if it had been dishonoured, and I did not care to go on—on 18th he came and said Lady Dunlo wanted some money—I gave him a cheque upon my bankers, crossed, and made payable to Lady Dunlo's order, for £25—I afterwards gave him this cheque of 22nd October for £53 5s.—the figures on the Pelican dub letter were on when I saw the letter, they are not mine—(The letter from the Pelican Club asked Mr. Richardson to give Weston the money for the cheque, and was signed, "Isabel Dunlo")—I presented the £300 cheque on 15th November—it was returned as marked—I called on Mr. Wertheimer—I did not again see Weston till about last Easter or Whitsuntide—went to look for him at Eider Street, when Mr. Wertheimer called on me—I brought the action upon the cheque in November—it was tried before Mr. Justice Charles—the verdict was against me.
Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I had known Weston since 1878—he introduced Lady Dunlo in my office in August, 1887—I had transactions with Weston jointly with Miss Belle Bilton, the result of which was, when Weston was convicted in March, 1888, a balance was left due to me on the joint transaction of about £115—my solicitors had instructions to press her as being jointly liable—I lend money otherwise than on pledge, upon bill or other security—the transactions between the prisoner and Miss Bilton were money lent—they signed my books in the usual way, jointly—payments have been made by her while Weston was in prison—when he came first to me I believe I knew Wertheimer by name—the prisoner asked me to keep the first cheque, and I suggested going to the Bank of England to make inquiries—he acquiesced—I had that cheque three days, and could have gone there any day—he gave me Mr. Werthoimer's address, 3, King Street, St. James's—I have ascertained
that that is correct—during any of those three days I could have gone to Mr. Wertheimer and asked him if the cheque was genuine—I had no doubt that it was genuine—I gave the money for the £50 cheque the very day it was brought—I did not inquire whether it was genuine, but I knew it was signed by the person who signed the first cheque—I had it in my possession from October 5th to the 16th, and could have inquired at Mr. Wertheimer's place or at the Bank whether it was genuine—the prisoner called twice between those dates—he wanted to borrow £10, and brought a letter—I negotiated the £300 cheque on the 18th, the day I received it, and on the 28th a gentleman from the Bank of England asked me where I obtained it, because Mr. Wertheimer repudiated it—I told them whom I had it from—they told me they believed the £50 and £300 cheques to be genuine—I instructed my solicitor on 16th November, and heard from him soon afterwards that the defence would be that they were forged—after that my solicitor took down a proof from the prisoner as to what he would swear in my action—I did not discover any hesitation in asserting that they were genuine documents—I knew the prisoner's address before the civil action.
Re-examined. After the £300 cheque I lost sight of him, and went to inquire for him in Ryder Street—I saw him in the street, and in consequence of my speaking to him then he went to my solicitor—that was on the Friday after a bank holiday, either Easter or Whitsuntide.
ISABEL MAUD PENRICE LADY DUNLO . My maiden name was Bilton—I was known as Miss Belle Bilton—I knew the defendant before his conviction—I was married to Lord Dunlo in July, 1889—just after Weston came out of prison I saw him one night as I came out of a music hall, and said "Good-night" as I passed—he afterwards came to Bennett Street where I was living with Mr. Abrahams, and in consequence of what happened I called my landlord—he went away with Mr. Abrahams—that was the only occasion I have seen him—it is not true I gave him a cheque for £200, or one for £50, or one for £300—I did not meet him in the grill-room of the Cafe Royal, nor did I endorse a cheque there or at Barnes—I never handed him any letters relating to the cheques of Mr. Wertheimer—I did not write any letters to the prisoner after he came out of prison—after Mr. Wertheimer knew of this matter I received this letter—that was written before the action was tried—it was brought by Thompson—it is in Mr. Weston's writing. (This commenced by "Dear Belle" requesting the witness to see him for a few minutes alone on a matter of the greatest importance, signed Alden Weston)—the prisoner's wife came to see me—I never endorsed cheques "Isabel Dunlo"—I signed my name in that way for the first time at Mr. Richardson's office—I have never been in the grill-room of the Cafe Royal in my life, or in the house at Barnes.
Cross-examined. I wrote letters to the prisoner when he was in prison—these letters (produced) are my writing—I sent them to him through the prison authorities; but one is to his father—at the time he took his trial in this very dock I had great affection for him—I did all I could to assist him—I was present during the whole of the trial—I do not think the later letters were refused admission from some irregularity, I did not write to him after July, by the advice of friends—when he came out my brother-in-law was talking to him, and he said, "How do you do?"—I do not know that he went home to supper with my sister that
night—she was living in London Road at that time—I do not know whether I went away with my sister and her husband—I saw him again when he came to my room in Bennett Street—it has been called an assault, but he did not strike me—I did not shake hands with him before he left, when I had a blow from the door—he wanted to borrow money of me, and Mr. Richardson said "No"—Mr. Wertheimer gave me a great many cheques, and was very kind to me—I do not know that he is not a very careful man in signing cheques, or that his signature is peculiar—I should say that this cheque (looking at a letter) is not his writing—it is a forgery—I do not know when I first heard from Mr. Wertheimer that these cheques were alleged to have been passed by me—I think the last date of passing a cheque was in November, 1889—the man Thompson had been valet to the prisoner before his conviction, and on my recommendation Mr. Wertheimer took him into his service in the same capacity—Mr. Wertheimer did not discharge him; he disappeared—I do not know this writing—I do not recognise it as a genuine document, written by Mr. Wertheimer—I would not dare to say whose writing it is—I would not say whose writing the body of the letter is—I have often been to the Westminster branch of the Bank of England to cash cheques of Mr. Wertheimer's—I have done so once since my marriage, and only once.
Re-examined. That was the only occasion after my marriage that I had a cheque of Mr. Wertheimer—I pledge my oath that these letters were not written by me.
ISIDOR EMANUEL WERTHEIMER . I spell my name Isidor without the "e"—I live at 2, Ryder Street, St. James's—I did not give Lady Dunlo a cheque for £200 in September or October, nor did I give her one for £50—this is not my writing, or written by my authority—this cheque for £300 was not written by me or by my authority—I did not write this letter; the Friday letter to Lady Dunlo, nor the letter with the heading of the Pelican Club—there is no truth in the statement that I was waiting at the Cafe Royal, or sent her a cheque for £300, or that I had taken a box for the competition—I had an account at the Western branch of the Bank of England—it came to my knowledge in October that a cheque for £50 was debited to me—I made inquiries, and saw Mr. Richardson's manager—I had consulted Mr. George Lewis previously—I then gave instructions to my bank to pay no cheques, without instructions from me, at the request of the agent—I first saw this card of mine when the civil case was being tried—that is asking for a cheque on the 16th October, 1889—it was not written by me—I had a cheque-book in my possession at that time—I examined it, and found three cheques were missing; two were torn off, and one was torn out, counterfoil and all—the numbers correspond—after Thompson was out of employment I took him into my employment, and he continued there till October—in his capacity of valet he had my keys—he disappeared from my employment early in October—I caused inquiries to be made, but could not find his address, and the next I saw of him was driving with Weston in a cab—that was the first intimation I had that he was in communication with Weston—afterwards civil proceedings were taken with regard to the £300 cheque—I gave evidence—Lady Dunlo gave evidence, and the matter was tried by Mr. Justice Charles—I never gave Lady Dunlo a
post-dated cheque—the £50 has been paid to Messrs. Lewis and Lewis by the Bank of England.
Cross-examined. I am quite sure of that—I heard of the forgeries about the end of October—I did not make up my mind that Weston had forged these cheques immediately I saw them—I could not know who the forger was—I saw this one about February this year—I first heard that there was such a cheque in November from Mr. Richardson's solicitors—they wrote and told me their client had a cheque for £300, and, unless I paid it, they were instructed to take proceedings, and I referred them to Messrs. Lewis—I did not know that Weston was the person who had passed this cheque to Richardson—I did not know until the pleadings were put in that there was a cheque for £300 purporting to be signed by me, and endorsed by Lady Dunlo, in Richardson's hands—I did not about the first week in November know of this particular cheque—on October 20th I ascertained that the £50 cheque had been passed by Weston—I knew that it was forged, and that he had uttered it—I did not prosecute him, I left that to my solicitors—I knew they would do what was right and proper—the question was who should prosecute him, I or the Bank of England—I asked the Bank of England to prosecute—I do not know whether they refused—there was a good deal of correspondence between them and Messrs. Lewis—when I ascertained the forgery of the £50 cheque I did not know positively that I was a co-respondent in the divorce suit—I had a hint given me—I did not know it in November—I first learnt it by being served with a citation in March, 1889—at the time I placed this matter in Messrs. Lewis and Lewis' hands I knew that they had been in communication with Lord Clancarty, but I had no information that they were in communication with Lord Durlo—the two things were most intimately connected—Mr. George Lewis said, "Before you give me instructions, it is only right and fair that I should tell you I have received certain instructions from Lord and Lady Clancarty"—I knew that Lord and Lady Clancarty were anxious that Lord Dunlo should be divorced, but I did not know what was in their minds—I made up my mind to prosecute when the civil action was tried before Mr. Justice Charles, and before the verdict—after the trial, but before the verdict—an officer from Scotland Yard had been sent for—that was in July—I thought the Bank were the proper persons to prosecute, and I think so now—they were liable—I was once in partnership with my father in a way—at the time these cheques wore issued my income was very much diminished, and there was not a balance of £300 at the Bank, or anything like it, when the cheque was drawn—there was a very small amount there—they have a rule that you are obliged to keep a certain amount there, but they make exceptions, and mine was an exception—I had every confidence in Thompson up to the time he left—he frequently changed cheques for me—he was a confidential servant, and a man of some education—he sometimes paid my bills—I daresay he had disobeyed my orders about 27th September, 1889—he went out without waiting for me more than once—I wrote this letter to him, "As you have again disobeyed my orders, and gone out without waiting for me, I shall not require your services after this day week"; but he asked me next morning to forgive him, and I did—I thought better of it, he was a very good servant—I believe the Scotland Yard people have tried to find him, but unsuccess-fully
—Weston has been married for the last two years, and I have seen Mrs. Weston—I never made Weston's acquaintance; I do not know him; I am not in the habit of associating with such people—I never have known him; I knew of him in March, 1888; I saw him when he was brought up for his examination in bankruptcy, when he was in prison—I accompanied Miss Bell Bilton, as she was then, to see him; that was at the Court in Portugal Street—I knew the relations which existed between them—I saw him on the evening he came out, on the expiration of his sentence, but did not speak to him—I have seen him several times at the Royal Music Hall, standing among the audience, but have never spoken to him in my life.
Re-examined. The citation was served on me in March, 1890—I saw Mr. Lewis about this matter last October, and rightly or wrongly I acted on his advice—the civil action on the £300 cheque commenced last November, and was pending until July—I heard Weston give his evidence.
DAVID BARTON . I am a cashier at the Bank of England, Burlington Gardens; Mr. Wertheimer has an account there—on 17th October this card was presented to me, and on the faith of it I gave the person presenting it the cheque-book from which this £300 cheque was taken; the cheque was presented at the Bank, and returned marked, "Signature differs"—this cheque for £50 was presented and honoured; it is the first number in the book.
Cross-examined. I am not chief cashier; I was examined on the trial of Richardson v. Wertheimer on July 4th—I do not recollect saying, "I believed at the time that the signature of the £300 cheque was in the writing of the defendent, and I believe it still"; my recollection is that I was not asked with regard to the cheque, but with regard to the card—I was examined as to the order for the cheque-book—I cannot say whether I believe the £300 cheque bears the genuine signature of Mr. Wertheimer; it has a very great resemblance—as regards the card, I said on 4th July that I believed it to be the genuine signature of Mr. Wertheimer, and I believe it still; I am inclined to say so even to-day, but I am not so positive now as I was then, because so many things have happened—I am not aware whether the Bank authorities have refunded the £50.
Cross-examined. I have seen one or two forgeries—the object of a forger is to make the signature as like as possible—I would not have given the cheque-book unless I had believed the card was Mr. Wertheimer's writing—the cheque-book was in an envelope, addressed to Mr. Wertheimer.
JAMES EBENEZER LICKFOLD . I am a solicitor, and managing clerk to Messrs. Lewis and Lewis—I have had the conduct of this matter, and have full knowledge of the facts—the £50 was paid to me on 21st July, by Messrs. Freshfield, the solicitors to the Bank of England.
Cross-examined. I said I would bring an action, and they sent a cheque in full discharge respecting the £50 cheque.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I live at 10, Bedford Row, and for upwards of 40 years have made a special study of handwriting—I was instructed by Messrs. Lewis and Lewis to examine the documents impounded by the Judge's orders, in the action of Richardson and Wertheimer—I examined a letter purporting to be written by Mr.
Wertheimer to Lady Dunlo, and one from Lady Dunlo to Weston, also the £50 cheque, and the £300 cheque, and the Pelican Club letter, and the card with the order for a fresh cheque-book, and compared them with genuine cheques of Mr. Wertheimer's and with his admitted writing, and Lady Dunlo's, and with writing which is sworn to be Weston's, and my opinion is that the £50 cheque and the £300 cheque are forgeries, and that Weston's hand forged them—the letters which purport to be written by Weston to Lady Dunlo, and by Lady Dunlo to Weston are forgeries, and bad imitations—they were written by Weston—I found the same peculiarity running through them all; Mr. Wertheimer's Christian name is spelt with an "e" in them all, and there are other peculiarities.
Cross-examined. I believe conscientiously that I have never been wrong in my life—I do not say that when juries have disagreed with me they have been wooden—headed juries—I say they are clumsy forgeries.
Re-examined. I am prepared to point out my reasons.
BERNARD ABRAHAMS . I am a solicitor, of Great Marlborough Street—after Weston came out of prison he called on me and said that he was in difficulties, and asked me to assist him—I said that I would as far as I was able—he said that he was going abroad—I drew a cheque for £5 to order, and gave it to him, and he endorsed it—this is it—he said that before leaving he should have to say good-bye to Lady Dunlo, and asked me to go with him, and I consented—I went up first to see her—in my opinion the assault was purely accidental, in pushing the door it went against her head—I expressed regret for the occurrence.
CHARLES RICHARDS . I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest on the charge of forgery, dated July 8th, and executed it next day—I said, "Weston; I am a police officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest"—he said, "All right, come upstairs"—I went up and he said, "Who prosecutes me?"—I said, "Mr. Wertheimer"—I took him to the station—I searched some lodgings in the Strand where he had been staying, and found some paper with different hotel headings, and the Junior Conservative Club, and Junior Travellers' Club, St. James's Square.
PERCY HOWARD . I am in the employ of Walsh and Sons, shorthand writers—I took notes of the evidence given by the defendant Weston, and of his cross-examination in Richardson and Wertheimer, and of the entire case—I produce a correct transcript.
Witnesses for the Defence.
GEORGE TRAIN . I am a cashier at the Western branch of the Bank of England—Mr. Wertheimer had an account there in 1889, and I am well acquainted with his signature—looking at the signatures to these two cheques, I believe I should have cashed them if there had been funds to meet them—Mr. Wertheimer had given notice at the office that no cheques were to be cashed—there is nothing characteristic about Mr. Wertheimer's signature, it is a loose sort of signature, and it varies—the signature to this letter from the Pelican Club is not a signature at all, I cannot pronounce any opinion about it—the Bank had previously cashed the £50 cheque.
Cross-examined. I did not pay the £50 cheque—I have never paid a forged cheque—I wrote this, "Signature differs," on the £300 cheque—I think the "W" is knocked into the "E" in this I. E.
Wertheimer; I cannot see them perfectly as two letters; I cannot see the whole of the "W"—I do not see any peculiar formation in the "E" and the "Win this cheque of Mr. Wertheimer's, which has been paid across the counter—I see in the first cheque the "I" and the "E" and two strokes afterwards—Mr. Wertheimer spells his name "Isidor."
CHARLES A. PYE . I am the senior cashier at the West-end branch of the Bank of England—I believe the signature to these two cheques to be in the hand of the drawer—I have seen them before—the signature to the £300 cheque is different, because instructions were given not to pay anything except to Mr. Wertheimer personally.
Cross-examined. Mr. Fletcher paid the £50 cheque—in the cheques which the Bank were paying at that time the "I," the "E," and the "W" can be seen—I think these two letters are in Mr. Wertheimer's writing.
WALTER JOHN FLETCHER . I am assistant cashier at the Western branch of the Bank of England; I cashed one of these cheques, and if the other had come to me in the ordinary way of business I should have cashed it.
Cross-examined. I have the same opinion of both of them—I can see the "I," the "E," and the "W" in all these cheques—I see the dots in all of them—I cannot judge of the signature to these two letters, because I never saw them before, but I should say that the body is Mr. Wertheimer's writing—he spells his Christian name "Isidor. "
GUILTY *— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 13th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended,
ROBERT THOMAS PITT . I am assistant to an ironmonger, of 3, Lambeth Walk—about half-past ten on the night of the 4th August I was going home along Birdcage Walk in the middle of the footway next the barrack railing—I saw the sentinel standing about seven or eight yards inside the railings; I did not see his face, only his red coat—I did not see whether he was carrying anything—a quick shot came through my coat and knocked me down on one knee—I staggered into a police sergeant's arms, and he took me to the guard-room, where I stayed for about ten minutes—the effect was a shock to my whole system; I was unconscious for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—I then went home with the police sergeant—when I got home I saw that my coat was damaged, and also this bundle of letters that I had in my coat pocket on my right side; the bullet hit the bundle, but did not go through; it was diverted up and came out of my coat—my coat was torn in three places, and the lining was all in rags—I did not find out till very lately that the bone of my knee was injured; I have walked very lame ever since.
Cross-examined. I was going home from Buckingham Palace, over Westminster Bridge—I never saw the prisoner before this to my knowledge.
EDWARD LITTLEFIELD (Police Sergeant A 19). About half-past ten on this night I was in uniform, going home off duty, through Birdcage Walk, in the direction of Buckingham Palace—when I got near the sentry-box, near the magazine, I met the prosecutor; as I met him I heard a sudden explosion of a rifle; just before that I heard a kind of rustling noise, as if some one had slipped—I saw the prosecutor reel, and cry out, "I am shot"—Dingley ran up and caught him, and said, "Look out, he is loading his rifle again," and we took the prosecutor as quickly as we could into the guard-room—by that time the soldiers in the guard-room ran out and apprehended the prisoner, and brought him into the guard-room—I examined the prosecutor's clothing and found the top button had been knocked off—I did not see the prisoner do anything—I saw this cartridge picked up—on further examination of the prosecutor's clothing we found this bullet—I saw a slight dent in the railing where the bullet had struck before reaching the prosecutor—next morning, when the prisoner was handed over to the police, he said he did not know what he had been confined for till he was told by the guard at five that morning.
Cross-examined. When I heard the rustling I went to look in that direction, and I had no sooner turned my head than I heard the report; I did not see in what position the prisoner was—I said at the Police-court that it appeared as if the ball had been directed towards Bucking-ham Palace; it must have glanced off to the right; if it had not been intercepted by the railing it would have gone in the direction of the Palace, and would not have struck the prosecutor—I saw the prisoner in the guard-room after the doctor had examined him after he was in the cell, I just had a glance of him, that was about a quarter to eleven—I did not speak to him.
WILLIAM DINGLEY . I am a colour-sergeant in the Coldstreams—the prisoner belongs to the 1st Battalion of the Scots Guards—he was on sentry duty on the night of 4th August—in the ordinary way he would be supplied with ten rounds of ball cartridge—it would not be his duty to keep his rifle loaded—I was in Birdcage Walk about half-past ten; I heard the report of a rifle, and saw the prosecutor—he staggered into my arms—I did not see him fall on his knee—I was in the road outside the barracks—I looked towards the prisoner inside the railings—he was in a stooping or kneeling position when I first saw him—he had his rifle in the ready position; I heard the clang of his rifle, as though he was opening the breech to take out the spent cartridge—I and the police sergeant took the prosecutor to the guard-room, and called someone to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. After hearing the shot I saw the prisoner assume the ready position with his rifle; he was in a stooping position—I could not say that he was on his knee altogether; that would be his natural position after firing—he was under my observation a minute or two—I did not see anything extraordinary in his movements; I could not see anything wrong; he seemed to be acting in a mechanical manner.
JOHN CLAYTON MANN . I am a sergeant in the 1st Battalion Scots Guards—I know the prisoner well—he has been in the regiment between four and five years—I did not see him on this night before he went on guard—I knew of his going—he had a rifle, which should not be loaded—the cartridge produced would be one of those he had—about half-past ten I heard the report of a rifle—I went towards the prisoner; he was
walking towards me, coming slowly towards me with his rifle in his right hand at short trail—he stopped and placed his rifle against a gun, and then walked away—I said, "What's the matter, Bennett?"—he made no answer—he was taken by the guard—I took hold of the rifle; I found it warm, recently discharged—I have never noticed anything peculiar about the prisoner—he had no sign of being in drink on this night—before a man goes on duty he is inspected by the drill sergeant.
Cross-examined. He appeared to be perfectly sober—he did not tale any notice of what I said—he looked very white and rather frightened, rather shaky, not exactly unsteady, a sort of trembling—carrying his rifle at short trail would be his natural position after firing, to come up to order—if he had fired in rifle practice he would rise from his knees and bring his rifle to order.
JAMES WAKEBY . I am a sergeant in the Scots Guards—the prisoner was in my battalion—about a quarter to nine in the evening of 4th August he and I were talking about religion—he seemed to be talking quite sensibly—then he went on sentry duty.
Cross-examined I saw him in the cell about five next morning—I saw him every hour during the night, and also again at eight next morning—he was sound asleep every time I went into the cell during the night—I couducted him into the cell when he was brought in; he was then rather dazed—I had no conversation with him before I left him in the cell—when I saw him awake in the morning ho was apparently in a healthy state for duty—he asked me what he was in the cell for—he said he had no recollection of anything occurring—there was a difference in his manner then, because the night before he never spoke to me at all after the occurrence—when I put him in the cell I left him there somewhat dazed, and in the morning he seemed thoroughly himself again—I had been talking to him about religion for two or three hours before he went on duty—there was nothing unusual in that—I had often spoken to him on religion before, and so had he to me—I noticed nothing whatever peculiar in his manner to lead me to suppose there was anything wrong with him—I have never known him the worse for drink during my time of duty—I have never known him to have to leave the ranks on account of being giddy for the moment—I daresay one or two have to leave the ranks on a very warm morning.
JOSEPH PETERS (Police Inspector). I received the prisoner from the military authorities, and took him to the Police-station—afterwards, on the way to the Police-court, he said, "I am glad the man is not killed, for I should have died from grief myself"—he said, "I had had an injury to my head two years ago, and at times I feel giddy"—he was seen by Mr. Perry, the army surgeon, the same night, and also in the morning.
ROBERT SMART . I was pay-sergeant in the Scots Guards at the time of this occurrence—I have Known the prisoner two or three years—in the ordinary course, when a sentry goes on duty, he is supplied with ten rounds of ball cartridge—his rifle would be empty—it would not be right to put in a charge under any circumstances.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. During the last two months or so I have noticed that ho has been rather depressed in his manner at intervals; it was only occasionally that I noticed it—it may always have
existed, but just at the time I saw him I noticed it, because we only get special attention of a man on drill or parade, not constantly—I said at the Police-court, "One day I thought he was the worse for drink by his rambling talk," but I found he was perfectly sober—as far as I know he has always been a perfectly sober man—if I pave him orders he seemed mostly of deficient understanding—I was with him at Purbright recently for six weeks' rifle-shooting—we returned from there on 24th or 25th July, about a week or ten days before this occurrence—he had been shooting there every day for three weeks, and three weeks on drill.
ALLAN PERRY . I am a surgeon in the Army Medical Staff—on the night of this occurrence I was at "Wellington Barracks—I was called to the guard-room, and there saw the prisoner—I spoke to him—I thought he was perfectly sane—in my opinion he was not under the influence of drink—I saw him again the next morning, and formed the same opinion—I don't think I had ever seen him before.
Cross-examined. I thought him a little excited on the night; he was looking about him—I was a very short time in his company—next morning he presented the appearance of a perfectly sane man—I have heard the evidence here—I nave not had my attention specially directed to cases of epilepsy—I think it very likely that the circumstances deposed to favour the supposition that the prisoner was acting under a state of epileptic vertigo—that is a state that may occur at intervals, and may leave the patient in a state of perfect sanity—it is within my reading and knowledge that a person so afflicted will, when in that state, do acts which they have been accustomed to do—it is quite possible that a groom when in that condition may fancy he is grooming a horse—it is quite possible that the prisoner, if in that state, might automatically do what he is alleged to have done.
Witness for the Defence.
CHARLES ARTHUR MERCIER . I live at 2, Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square—I am a B.A. of the University of London, a F.R.C.S., and Lecturer on Insanity at Westminster Hospital—I am the author of two books on the subject of epilepsy and mental disorders, and of numerous writings on the same subjects—my attention has been for many years past devoted specially to mental disorders connected with epilepsy—my attention was first directed to this case by seeing an account of it in the papers—I read the evidence carefully, and formed a distinct opinion about it, and in consequence of that I am now defending the prisoner—I have carefully looked at the evidence in this case, and in my opinion it indicates a particular form of epilepsy called epileptic vertigo, or petite mal—in the course of my experience I have seen many seizures of that particular form—sudden unconsciousness is the characteristic feature of that malady, the duration of which is from a few seconds to a few minutes—the sinking down on the knees, the dazed appearance, the pallor, and the silence on being questioned, are symptoms of the malady—I can't say the man was unconscious; lean only say that the symptoms he exhibited were consistent with the hypothesis I have advanced; they are the symptoms usually associated with this particular form of epileptic vertigo—if a person in that condition finds in his hand an article which he has been accustomed to use, he will use it in the customary manner, and that without any relation to the surrounding circumstances—I have had frequent instances of that occurring in my own experience—the
circumstances deposed to are such as I should expect to find in a case of the kind happening to a soldier, and usual in this form of seizure—if a patient is spoken to when in that state, as a rule he does not answer sometimes he does—shaky is a usual condition in such a case—it is sometimes followed by heavy sleep, and on awaking the patient is in his usual normal condition; but he retains no memory of what has happened during the attack—I should expect to find previous attacks of a similar nature, but they would vary in severity and duration; they seldom occur singly in a lifetime—if slight, they might not be noticed, and nothing would be done—I have seen the prisoner in Holloway, examined him, and spoken to him—I have formed the opinion that he has had similar attacks before—I have not seen him under the influence of one, but I have questioned his comrades and himself—under an attack of epileptic vertigo the patient occasionally falls to the ground; that is only in the major attack, and when it is severe—as a rule they do not fall to the ground—there is often a loss of power, as if in a dead sleep, similar to a case of somnambulism, during which time the mind is absolutely gone.
Cross-examined. Seeing this case in the paper, I undertook the man's defence; I thought he should be defended—I have not been long in Henrietta Street, not six months; I have been in London a long time—I practice at South End, Catford; I have rooms in Henrietta Street—I am a specialist—I don't know that it is an exceptional thing for a medical man to undertake a defence—I prepared the proof myself; it was a matter that I thought would not probably occur to an ordinary medical man, and I communicated with the Colonel of his regiment—he said they were not going to undertake his defence, and I thought it was a view that should be placed before a jury—the view is, that the man having a rifle in his hand, automatically went through the movements customary to him, that is, loading and firing, and that he was oblivious of the fact that he was a sentry—such a thing might happen to him at any place and under any circumstances—I mean that he did not appreciate the act he was doing, not that he was insane, but unconscious, that he had no mind at all at the time—I saw him alone for about half an hour—I did not ascertain that during the whole time he had been in his regiment he had only been twice under the care of a doctor, once for diarrhoea, and once for a sprained ankle—I did not inquire, I wrote to the military surgeon, but had no answer from him—I obtained the prisoner's consent to this defence—I knew the serious consequences that follow a verdict of insanity; I explained that to him, and that he would go to Broadmoor as a practical lunatic—I did not hold out any promise to him that he might be got out of Broadmoor—I ascertained whether he was a man given to drink—I did not hear that he was punished at times for drunkenness.
Re-examined. I do not call this a case of insanity—there is no danger of such a thing occurring again unless the gun were in his hand.
GUILTY of an assault. The JURY stated they were of opinion that he had no object in firing, that it was done on the spur of the moment ,— Three Months' Hard Labour.
JANE ESWORTHY . I am a single woman, living with my mother—on 25th August I was with the prisoner in York Street, Paddington—we were larking—he had a knife in his hand—I fell against it—I had not previously seen any knife—I walked to Plumstead Terrace to my mother's house—when the knife struck me the prisoner was against the railings with the knife in front of him, and I caught hold of him round the neck—my mother took me to the hospital—I was examined by a doctor—I was conscious all the time—we had no quarrel that evening, nor for some days—we have quarrelled sometimes—I have known the prisoner five years—this was Monday—we had a few words on the Saturday; I was drinking in a public-house with other chaps; he was all right afterwards.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is always kind to me—we are going to be married—I remained three-quarters of an hour with him after the knife struck me, talking and friendly—he walked to our house, and said good-night, as if nothing had happened—I told the Magistrate I was larking about with him—I have always told the same story.
WILLIAM JAMES FOSTER , M.D. I am house surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—Esworthy was brought in about twelve—I found a punctured wound on the left side of the mid axillary line, about the fifth and sixth rib—there was a large effusion of blood beneath the skin which prevented my feeling the position with regard to the ribs—the wound was deep and comparatively dangerous—she has recovered—the wound required some force to inflict—the blade of the knife was horizontal, I should think—it went straight in—the wound could be made by falling on the knife if it was directly facing, and the person fell with sufficient force—if the knife was held loosely the hand would give way.
Cross-examined. The knife would go into the body if firmly held against some solid body—if in the hand, one would have to lift the person up, so to speak—I knew she had been walking about afterwards—I do not think its not being attended to would make it more serious—the filtration from the surrounding tissues closed up the wound.
By the COURT. She is quite well now—the wound was washed out with antiseptics, and I put a bandage on, strapped to the side.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, September 13th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
691. WILLIAM WATTS (67) and KATE WATTS (23) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of £6 17s. 9d., with intent to defraud. William Watts having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty of the uttering, they found that verdict, and no evidence was offered against Kate Watts.
NOT GUILTY .
EDWARD GULLY . I am warehouseman to Hewitson and Milne, of Tottenham Court Road, cabinet-makers and upholsterers—on 5th August the prisoner came in and selected two pairs of curtains, price 18s. 6d. and 15s. 6d.—they were to be sent to Kate Morton, 153, Camden Road—she gave me this cheque. (On the National Bank, Camden Branch, for £5, in favour of Mrs. Kate Morton, signed Frederick Ibbetson)—I took it to the cashier, and gave her £3 6s. change—the prisoner endorsed the cheque in my presence—the goods were sent next day, and retained by the carrier—I believe it was an empty house—the cheque was paid in, and returned as a forgery.
Cross-examined. I have a note of the address she gave me, 153, Camden Road—I have not got it here.
WILLIAM JAMES (Detective Sergeant D). I made inquiries at 153, Camden Road; the house was empty; it has been uninhabited several months—the last tenant's name was Smith—I was with Sergeant Ward when he arrested the prisoner; she said that she cashed the cheque, but the old man sent her in with it, and she gave him the money.
GEORGE BURRIDGE . I am cashier at the National Bank, Camden Road branch—this cheque came from a book issued in 1877 to William Clark, whose account has not been operated on since 1877; it is overdrawn—we have a customer named Frederick Ibbetson; the cheque is not his writing.
ALFRED WARD (Detective Sergeant L). I told the prisoner the charge—she said, "I don't know the old man, he is a stranger to me; I picked him up in Regent Street, and brought him home for half a sovereign; I was informed when I issued the cheque that it was a good one; the old man waited outside; when I came out I gave him the change"—I bad followed him to his place an hour previously—at the station the old man said, "My daughter is innocent, she thought the cheques were genuine"—I said, "This woman denies all knowledge of you; she says she picked you up for a half-sovereign in Regent Street"—he said, "She is my daughter"—she gave her name Kate Morton, and then Kate Watts.
Cross-examined. I said to her, "You hear what the old man says"—she said, "Yes"—they were not living together—he lived at a common lodging-house—he visited her an hour previous to her arrest.
NOT GUILTY .
693. WILLIAM WATTS was again indicted with JOHN ELKIN (39) for forging and uttering an order for £9 12s. 6d., with intent to defraud. The prisoners having stated in the hearing of the JURY that they were guilty of uttering, the JURY found that verdict.
LAURENCE HARROWER . I am an assistant in the umbrella department of Waterloo House and Swan and Edgar, Limited, Regent Street—on 29th July an assistant in another department brought the prisoners to me—the male prisoner said, "Show me some umbrellas"—laid so; he walked away, and Kate Watts remained and selected one at 18s. 6d., with a gold top, but said it was too much—I put it down, and showed her some more, and she chose one at 15s. 6d.—the man came back and asked her if she had made her selection—she said, "Yes, father," and asked if I would send the old one—I said, "Yes," and asked if he would pay—he said he had given a cheque in another department—I asked his address—he said, "153, King Street, Hammersmith"—I made out the bill and sent it down, and the change for the cheque, £4 15s. 9d., was sent up—I went to the cash desk for a minute or so, and when I came back the prisoners had gone without their change—I kept the £4 15s. 9d.—I then went to the pile of umbrellas and found this old one (produced) lying on the top, and the 18s. 6d. one gone—I should not like to give anything for this one—I sent it to 153, King Street. Hammersmith, with the invoice, and it came back—the gold-top umbrella has Swan and Edgar's name inside it—it has been used—we only had two in stock, and I have got the other.
Cross-examined. I sold them the 15s. 6d. one—I should not have charged them with stealing that—they left that and the old umbrella—it was the male prisoner who gave the address.
ALFRED WARD (Detective Sergeant L). I was watching the male prisoner, and on 9th August I watched him into 20, Harris Street; he came out about an hour afterwards, and I told him he answered the description of a man whom we wanted for uttering a large number of cheques in London and the provinces—I took him to the station, and then went to 20, Harris Street, and saw the female prisoner, and found this umbrella in a chest of drawers in her bedroom—I said, "How do you account for this?"—she said, "I had that from Swan and Edgar's; the old man told me to take it, and leave my old one behind"—she gave her name Kate Morton—I called up the landlady, and said, "What name do you know this lady by?"—she said, "Parker; she has been living with a man named Parker"—I confronted her with the male prisoner at the station; he said, "My daughter is innocent, she took it by mistake, and left her own behind"—she eventually said that her name was Kate Watts.
ERNEST MUNFORD WATTS . I have lived at 153, King Street, Hammersmith, for some years—I do not occupy the whole house—no one named Watts lodges there but myself—I do not know the prisoners, they are not relations of mine—a carman brought an umbrella there from Swan and Edgar's, and I refused to take it in; I did not undo the parcel.
GUILTY . There were eleven indictments against Watts, and four against Elkin. WILLIAM WATTS.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. KATE WATTS.— Four Months' Hard Labour. ELKIN.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT Defended.
THOMAS SAUNDERS . I am a painter and decorator, and did live at 40, Landry Road, Fulham—I was married on March 25th, 1882—on 17th May my wife was at work at the French Exhibition in the kitchen—previous to that we had got on very well on the whole—we sometimes had a word—her behaviour became very indifferent to me and the children—there were two children of her former husband, and two of mine—on 19th July I found a portrait of the prisoner, and my marriage certificate and some artificial teeth which the prisoner had bought for my wife, all in a silk handkerchief—I did not know him by sight at the time, but I made inquiries, and went to the French Exhibition; produced a card, and saw the prisoner there—he was employed in the kitchen—I asked him if he knew the portrait—he looked at it, and said, "How did you get it?"—I said, "Who did you give it to?"—he said, "Me don't understand"—I said, "I found this in my wife's pocket last night"—on July 28th I went to the Exhibition; saw the prisoner coming out, and followed him to his lodgings in Lawn Terrace, North End Road—I wag standing there, and he said, "What for are you watching me?"—I said, "Why did you decoy my wife away from four little children?"—he struck me with a knuckle-duster, and I struck him in the face—he said, "I have got something in my pocket which will do for you"—I said, "Use it; you are no man, taking my wife away"—he went away, and came back with a constable, and said he was frightened to go home—I told the constable he was living with my wife—that was in his hearing—the constable told him to go home, and he went into his lodgings—I remained on the opposite side of the way, and then went and leant on the railings—there was a light in the room, and I could see the shadows of my wife in her night-dress and the prisoner in his shirt sleeves on the blind, and I distinguished my wife's voice—I did not see anyone look out—I had not been there long when a shot was fired—the blind was still down—I felt my hand was shot, and the bullet passed through the rim of my hat—my wife called out, "Tom, is that you?"—my hand bled—I afterwards saw that the ball had struck the house over the way—I called out, "I am shot"—I sent for the police—No. 401 came up and knocked at the door more than once, but no one came—he then got in through the window, and called me in—I went in, and saw my wife and the prisoner inside, and a clock and several things in the room which I recognised as mine—I charged the prisoner.
Cross-examined. My wife was about thirty-three when I married her—she is considerably older than the prisoner—old enough, I think, to be his mother—I had heard that she told the prisoner she was a single woman—it was not until the 9th of July, when I saw him at the Exhibition, that he had any reason to believe the contrary—he makes himself understood in English—when he struck me on the shoulder I struck him in the face in self-defence—he told the policeman he was frightened of me—the window was higher from the ground than where I was leaning; it is about two feet from the ground—the railings are eighteen inches or two feet from the window—the window sill was about a foot higher than where I was leaning, but a person standing at the window was on the same level with mo—the floor of the room is almost level with the outside
—there was a bullet hole through the glass—the flesh was torn away from my hand—it was not the glass which caused the wound, my hat will prove that—glass could have torn my finger if it came against it—this is my hat—there is the bullet hole through the brim—I was looking in the direction in which the bullet came, looking into the room—I showed my hat to the policeman the moment I went up to him—I did not notice whether there was a lamp in the room—it was becoming daylight then.
WILLIAM BASCOMBE (Policeman T 401). I was on duty in North End Road—Saunders spoke to me and complained that he had been shot—there was a slight graze on his hand and a little blood—I afterwards saw the hole in his hat at the station—I went to 11, Lawn Terrace, and knocked at the door—it was not answered—I waited two or three minutes, and finding the sash unfastened, I raised it and got in—two panes of glass were broken directly under the catch—one was a long smash and the other a bullet hole—the glass above the catch was not broken—the bullet hole was immediately under the catch—no one was in the room—I went up stairs to a back room, and found the prisoner and Mrs. Saunders—they were both dressed—the prisoner passed something to her—I asked him what it was—she said, "It is a revolver"—I said, "Have you a revolver?"—he said, "No"—I called Saunders upstairs—he identified the prisoner—T said, "I shall take you into custody"—he made no reply—I took him down to the front room, and found a brown leather revolver case—I picked it up, and asked him where the revolver was—he said, "Mrs. Saunders has it upstairs"—a six-chambered revolver was afterwards produced—five chambers were loaded—one had been discharged, and the empty cartridge case was in it—there was a hole through the blind corresponding with the bullet-hole in the glass, and a little smoke on it, and a similar hole through a pane of glass in a window on the opposite side of the road, on the same level, and a graze on the shutter inside—when the prisoner was charged, he said, "I fired the revolver to frighten him. I could have killed him if I had wished. I was only standing two yards away."
LANE (Policeman T 574). Early on the morning of 29th July I went to Laundry Terrace, went into the house, and Mrs. Saunders handed me this revolver (produced).
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
JOHN BURKETT . On 30th July I was in a public-house in Euston Road, and missed my watch—I followed the prisoner and took hold of him—a policeman was close by, and I gave him in charge—the policeman showed me my watch at the station—my initials were on it.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There were a number of people in the public-house, but not in that compartment—it is the Grafton—I did not hear that a smoking concert was going on—there were four people in the compartment I was in—I caught the prisoner inside the house, and never let him out of my hold till the policeman secured him—I am pretty sure I saw my watch in his hand outside, but it was got inside—a person picked it up—I held him by his collar—there were a number of people outside the house—I did not see it picked up or thrown up in the air.
ALBERT HOLLOWAY . I am a foreman at 9, Kirkman's Place, Tottenham Court Road—on 30th July I was opposite the Grafton; heard a cry of "Police," and saw the prisoner—I stopped him, and Burkett said, "He has got my watch"—he flung something away which he had in his hand after I had got hold of him—I held him till the constable came up—the watch was picked up afterwards.
Cross-examined. Something was thrown away as the policeman was coming up, and before he got hold of the prisoner, I should say, but there was a large crowd—I did not see what it was—I did not see Burkett catch hold of a tall man—the prisoner did not struggle with a gentleman behind him as he came out—he was walking rather fast—there is a boot shop next to the public-house.
HUGH MCELEESE . I am a foreman at Messrs. Maples, Tottenham Court Road—I was outside the Grafton, and saw Burkett rush out, saying, "Stop thief, he has got my watch"—the prisoner threw a watch up in the air—it struck a gentleman's hat, which broke the throw, and it bounded back to the door of the boot shop, as far as from here to the other side of the Court—I picked it up; I am quite sure the prisoner is the person who threw it—I handed it to the policeman.
Cross-examined. I was on the kerb, and Mr. Holloway was in front of me—the house was newly opened, and there were a number of people outside—I did not see Burkett catch hold of somebody else first—I was further off than Holloway, but I am quite sure the prisoner threw away the watch.
JOHN POCKETT (Policeman S 206). On 30th July, about 8 p.m., I was outside the Grafton, and saw the prisoner come out—I took him by the collar, and saw a watch in his right hand—he threw it away before I had time to take it from him—I took him to the station, and found nothing on him but a broken watch-key.
Cross-examined. I tried to get the watch out of his right hand, and while I was doing so he threw it away—it would not be true to say that he threw it away before I got hold of him—Holloway had hold of him at the same time—I was about one minute before I got up to him.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in April, 1889— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. BOOTH Defended Saunders. PATRICK GALVIN. I am a cattle drover, of 139, York Road, Islington—on 27th August I was in the Copenhagen public-house, York Road, about 11.30.—the prisoners came in together—I was with a Mr. Muir—I conversed with the prisoners—Muir left me to go to the boardinghouse—the prisoners asked me when I got in—I said I did not know them, and started to follow my friend to the boarding-house; they followed; I said, "What are you following me for?"—Stamp tripped
me up, and knocked me into the mud—I fell on my back—as I was getting up, Saunders put his hand in my left pocket, and took out a purse, containing two sovereigns and three half-sovereigns—Stamp was then about twenty yards away in the shade, and behind Saunders—they ran—I felt his hand in my pocket—when my friend came back I said something and made a complaint to 58 Y—I went with him to one or two public-houses—I pointed out the prisoners in the Lamb—I said Stamp was the man who knocked me down, and Saunders was the man who took my money—Saunders said, "I did not take your money"—I gave them into custody—the purse produced was shown to me at the police-station, and I said it was mine, but it is only like mine.
Cross-examined. I was on board ship from the 10th to 26th August, in charge of cattle from America—on 27th I went to Smithfield Market, got hay, and then to the offices of the shipping company, about 12 o'clock, then I took train to Farringdon and came to King's Cross; bought shirts and underclothing, and that took up the afternoon; about five we got to the boarding-house—I had been that day in about five public-houses—I had one glass of ale at each—the Copenhagen was the sixth public-house I had been in—I was sober, and knew what I was doing—my friend Joseph Brown was also with me—he was not before the Magistrate—I thought one witness was enough—I did not enter into conversation with the prisoners, nor tell them I was a drover—people knew when the boats came in—I did not quarrel, and get up to leave—I gave them an uncivil answer—I did not go out to fight—Stamp knocked me down; there was no fight—there, was no blow from me—I could not see that Stamp was injured.
Re-examined, I was not drunk.
WILLIAM MUIR . On 27th August I lived at 139, York Road—I went with the prosecutor into the Copenhagen public-house—the prisoners came in and asked what boat we came in, and what kind of a voyage we had—I left Galvin to go over to the Regency, where we were staying—crossing I saw the prisoners running round the cattle trough from the door of the boarding-house—we went with the constable till the prisoners were taken—Galvin was on the pavement, covered with mud.
EDWARD GUDGEON (Policeman Y 58). About 11.30 p.m. on 27th August I was in York Road; the prosecutor spoke to me—I went with him and Muir to two or three public-houses—we saw the prisoners in the Lamb—the prosecutor said, "That is one, and that is the other; that one," pointing to Stamp, "knocked me down, and that one (Saunders) took my money"—Stamp said, "I do not know about assaulting him, I think he gave me enough; look at my clothes and my eye"—there was mud on his clothing, and his eye was red—Saunders said, "All right, I will go."—I took them to the station—they were charged—they made no reply—I found on Stamp £1 in gold, 6s. in silver, and 4¾d. in bronze; a pipe, a pawnticket, and a latch-key.
Cross-examined. The Lamb is about 300 yards from the Copenhagen—the prosecutor had been drinking, but knew what he was about.
JAMES NICHOLLS (Policeman Y 458). I went with the prosecutor and Muir to two public-houses, and then to the Lamb—the prosecutor pointed out the prisoners—I searched Saunders, and found on him a sovereign, three half-sovereigns, and some bronze—Saunders said, "Let him take the f----money"—he made no reply to the charge.
Saunders' statement before the Magistrate: "The purse is mine, and I can call a witness to prove it."
Stamp put in a written defence, stating that there was a quarrel; the money found on him was his own; he knew nothing of the robbery, and had lived an honest life since his conviction, three gears ago.
GUILTY .—SAUNDERS— Nine Months' Hard Labour. STAMP*— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 13th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
ALBERT ZENTHORNE (Policeman X 270). At 3 a.m. on 20th August I saw the prisoner in the Uxbridge Road, Ealing—he went up to the gate of a large house, and as he was looking over it he heard me behind him, and turned round and walked quickly across the road out of the way—I followed him into St. Mary's Road—he kept stopping and listening to see if I was following him—I was in uniform—he went up to the door of the Castle public-house, tried the handle, and pushed the door, and then struck a match and looked up and down the door and through the keyhole, as though to see where the fastenings were—I went up and said, "What are you doing there at this time in the morning?"—he said, "I am looking for Dr. Fenton"—I said, "Dr. Fenton doesn't live in a public-house; in fact, he does not live at this end of the village at all. I am not satisfied with what you tell me, and I shall take you to the police-station"—he said, "All right, they know me there"—we walked some distance towards the station without my putting my hand on him—at the corner of the Grange Road, without saying a word, he suddenly attacked me, and struck at me right and left with his fists—he had one of these graving tools, which he uses in his trade, in each hand—he struck me several blows about the chest and the body, and on the head and also on the mouth, and cut my lip—I tried to ward off the blows—I struggled with him, and blew my whistle—Turner came, and ultimately another constable, and the prisoner was taken to the station and charged—he said nothing in reply—I was taken home on the ambulance, and was not out of bed for six weeks; I am still under the doctor's hands, I am in a little pain now—I did not see these tools till I had got the prisoner down on the ground, and had him by the hands—I felt I was struck by something, and I thought it was a knife—I was wearing this cape; there are holes through it—I bled much, one wound in the chest penetrated to my ribs, the others were slight—there are eight holes through my tunic, and four through my trousers.
RICHARD TURNER . I am a saddler and harness-maker's manager, at the Green, Ealing—on this morning I was in bed, and I heard a policeman blow his whistle—I slipped on my trousers, boots, and hat, and went out and saw the constable and prisoner struggling together on the ground, in the middle of St. Mary's Road, at the corner of the Grange Road—the constable said, "Look out, he has two knives, one in each hand"
I took these gravers from the prisoner's hands—I picked up the policeman's helmet and the prisoner's hat, and we got the prisoner along the road, and more policemen came up—it was between three and four, and quite dark—there are lamps, but trees overhang the footpaths.
HENRY ROBINSON (Policeman X 59). I was in Churchfield Road, Ealing; I heard a police whistle and went in its direction, and when I got to St. Mary's Road, I saw Zenthorne and Turner holding the prisoner—Zenthorne said, "I have been stabbed by this man"—neither the prisoner nor Turner said anything—Zenthorne and the prisoner were covered with mud; they had been rolling in the mud; Zenthorne showed me his hand, which was bleeding—the prisoner appeared to be excited—he was taken to the station and charged with loitering—he made no reply—later on he was charged with this offence—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. He had been drinking, but was not drunk—I smelt his breath, and he admitted having had drink.
CHARLES NEWMAN (Inspector X). I was on duty at ten minutes to four on 20th August, when the prisoner was brought in by Zenthorne and charged with loitering; and Zenthorne said that on the way to the station the prisoner stabbed him in the chest and hands with, these gravers' tools—I took off Zenthorne's tunic and found a stab in his chest, and a cut on his hands—I sent for the divisional surgeon—the prisoner made no reply to the charge—after the doctor had examined Zenthorne, the prisoner was charged with feloniously wounding—Zenthorne was smothered in Mood, and both he and the prisoner were covered in mud.
GEORGE HERBERT BENNETT . I am assistant divisional surgeon at Ealing—I was called to see Zenthorne—I found the whole of his underclothing saturated with blood, which had penetrated through his tunic and was visible externally—he had three punctured wounds in his chest, on the right side near the breast—one was close to the breast bone, over the third rib—all three wounds had given rise to considerable bleeding, and the upper wound was oozing with blood at the time—neither wound penetrated the cavity of the chest, but one was quite an inch, long, passing obliquely; the weapon seemed to have struck on the third rib and passed down to the fourth rib, and had severed apparently the intercostal artery—there was also a large lacerated wound between the finger and thumb on the dorsal surface of his left hand; a wound on the left thigh, and a large wound on the upper lip, which was also bleeding when I saw it—I sent him home on the ambulance at once—he was confined to his bed for about three and a half or four days—there was considerable hæmorrhage from the upper of the three wounds in the chest and the thumb—if they bad gone through they might have penetrated the lungs—these awls could have caused the injuries—Zenthorne's life was not in danger, but if he had not had his cape on, the wounds would have been more serious.
The prisoner, in a written defence, said he was walking down the road and met the constable, and told him he was looking for Dr. Fenton; that afterwards he stopped to light his pipe; that he waited opposite the Castle, wondering which way he should go till it was time to get refreshment, when the constable came up; that he said he would go quietly to the station, when the constable said he must go faster, and hit him, and he struck out in self-defence, and that the gravers were tools he used in his business.
you walk faster?" nothing of the sort—I did not attempt to touch him till alter I felt him tear my cape—he struck at me with his right hand and as soon as I went and caught hold of that hand, he struck me in the breast with his left hand—I struck him after he struck me.
By the Prisoner. I was twenty yards off when I saw you strike the match by the keyhole of the public-house door, and then you went into the middle of the road and struck another match—I saw no pipe a spectacle case was found near where we had been struggling.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT commended the conduct of Zenthorne and Turner, and awarded Turner two guineas.
MR. HUGGLNS Prosecuted.
BENJAMIN LAWRENCE (Policeman D 342). At a quarter past one on 13th August I saw the prisoner in Park Road, St. John's Wood, trying the doors of Nos. 25, 24, 23 and 22—then he sprang over the wall into the front garden of No. 22—I went with Phillips to the place when he got over, and assisted by Phillips I got over and searched the garden—I found no one, and came back into the road—another constable came up—I heard a crash of glass, and again got over into the garden of No. 22, and while there the prisoner ran to the wall from No. 21—there is a high wall between each house—I heard him on the gravel, and the other constable said, "Here he is"—I next saw him in custody—we examined Nos. 22 and 21, and found the diningroom window on the ground floor of 21 facing the road was broken.
HENRY PHILLIPS (Policeman D 154). At a quarter-past one on 13th August I was with Lawrence—I saw the prisoner trying the doors—I stayed in Park Road to keep observation—I heard some one come out of No. 18 and 1 saw the prisoner in the garden—I was at the corner of Lawn Wardens, a little way up Park Road, when he came over the wall—he ran down the road; I chased him—just as I got up to him he ran into the garden of No. 19, Lawn Gardens—I took him into custody—he did not say anything—I said nothing to him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was no one in Lawn Gardens except me when I saw you run up the turning; there was a boy standing at Road—some boys came to the station of their free will; one of them was fetched into the office—they stood at the corner of Lawn Wardens, and as we came out they said, "Here he is," and they followed with others to the station—several people collected round after you were in custody.
MARGUERITE ELEANOR LEIGHTON . I live at 21, Park Road, Regent's park, and am a window—on Tuesday, 12th August, I went to bed about eleven, after going all over the house, and fastening every door and window—next morning, when I got up, about eight, I noticed about as much glass as the size of this testament was broken out of the dining window;
it was large enough to put a hand through—I missed nothing; nothing was disturbed—the glass was broken near the catch, on the left hand side of it, and the catch had been moved back.
JOSEPH LOKER (Police Sergeant D). I went to No. 21, Park Road, and examined the dining-room window about half-past ten on the morning of 13th August—I compared this knife, which was found on the prisoner, with marks on the sash where the knife had been bored into the putty, and they corresponded.
LAMBERT WARMAN (Policeman D 322). I searched the prisoner as soon as he was in custody, and found this knife in his left hand coat pocket—I found nothing else on him—at the station he said, "I got over the wall to ease myself"—I had said nothing to him before that, he volunteered it.
The COURT commended the conduct of the police-officers.
JOSEPH WEST . I live at 36, Edge Street, Notting Hill—I am beadle of St. George's Church, Notting Hill—when I left the church about nine o'clock on August 6th the doors and windows were fastened—I returned next morning at eight, and found a window at the back had been forced open, and the doors of the vestry had been forced open—ten collecting boxes had been opened; no money had been left in them, but drawers in the vestry had been forced open, and between £9 and £10 had been taken out—I missed this timepiece, which cost about £4—I found someone had got in by a window—there was a mark on the stone where something had been put under it to force the window open—nothing but the string held the window.
GEORGE KITE . I am assistant to Mr. Henry Davidson, a pawnbroker, of 43, Drury Lane—this clock was pawned by the prisoner on 9th August in the name of J.G. Barnett, Broad Court—I had not seen him before—on 25th August he came and said, "Will you advance me a few more shillings?"—I said I would see if he would wait for a minute, and I communicated with the police—I had seen about the clock in the police list which is circulated.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not pledge the clock with me; I was present—when you came the second time I asked if you had pledged it, and you admitted doing so—we advanced 6s., which was all you asked; it would not fetch more than £1.
ROBERT EVANS . I live at 46, Edge Street, Notting Hill, and am verger of St. George's Church—there was no money in the boxes, but there was £10 5s. 11d. in an envelope in the drawer in the vestry; it was money entrusted to me by the district ladies for the coal club and so forth—it was the property of the churchwardens, of whom Mr. John Fulton is one.
prisoner there and charged him with breaking into St. George's Church and stealing a clock and about £10—he said, "All right"—I took him to Notting Hill Station; before he got there he said, "I met a man outside Debenham and Store's, and he asked me to pawn it, which I did, and he gave me half a crown and the ticket. I know the man by sight, but not by name"—this is the ticket.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I deny breaking into the church, but I admit the pledging of the clock."
The prisoner in his defence said a man who gave the name of Barnet gave him the clock to pledge for him.
GUILTY of receiving — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and MR. ABINGER Defended.
After MR. SANDS had opened the case, MR. ABINGER said that the prisoner desired to withdraw his plea and plead guilty to unlawfully wounding.
The JURY then found him GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Discharged on recognizances.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 15th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
704. FREDERICK WILLIAM THEODORE OELRICHS (29) was again indicted (see page 1029, Old Court Monday) for feloniously forging and uttering an authority to receive £4 15s. 2d., with intent to defraud. Other Counts, for forging and uttering an authority to deliver certain stamps.
MR. TICKELL Prosecuted. The circumstances connected with this case are fully stated in the former trial, although now varied in the form of charge. The JURY found the Prisoner GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
705. ALFRED GEORGE HARRIS (34) and JAMES DEAR (25) , Stealing 66lbs. of isinglass, value £14, the property of Henry George Chamberlain and another, their masters; and FREDERICK COPPING (28) , feloniously receiving the same.
DEAR PLEADED GUILTY to this and other indictments.
MESSRS. GRAIN and KERSHAW Prosecuted, MR. ARTHUR GILL Defended Harris, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended Copping.
ERNEST JOHN GUNNY . I carry on business as Williams and Co., isinglass merchants, at 50, Commercial Street—I have known Copping for about nine or twelve months—my first transaction with him was about December, 1889—I had another in February, 1890—about July I communicated with Mr. Chamberlain, also an isinglass merchant, trading as Henry Giles and Co.—I had lost isinglass at that time and am now—on Tuesday, 29th July, Copping came to me; he brought with him a sample of isinglass, and asked me if I would buy it, naming the price, 3s. 6d. a lb.—I told him to come next day and bring the bulk—in the meantime I gave a message about the police—Copping came on the Wednesday
with the bulk—this is it (produced)—the police and Mr. Chamberlain were there—there was a conversation—I did not join in it; it was out of my hands—isinglass varies very much in value—you can go up to any amount, even 11s. a lb.,; the market value on that day was from 5d. to 9d. a lb. over what Copping asked, but I did not take very much notice.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I do not know Harris—I did not see him in connection with Copping.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. Isinglass is principally used by brewers to fine the beer; it is used by many persons who deal in hops—it is a limited trade, and there are comparatively few in the trade—I never heard of a small lot being bought or sold—I call this a most irregular proceeding; any person buying or selling a small lot would arouse suspicion; under a hundredweight is rather a small lot—I did not make any inquiry as to who or what Copping was; on the first occasion I bought of him 33 lb., and on the second a hundredweight—on both occasions I gave the market price—I did not communicate with the police—I suggested to Copping that the proceeding was most irregular, that he should be quite sure where he got it from, and that he should ask the man where he got it—that was not at the first transaction; I have had three or four transactions with him—I could not have said that I only had two transactions with him; I had two previous to those mentioned, on 17th November 77 1/2 lb. at 2s. 9., and December 13th 33 lb., and then came the two lots we are speaking of—I happen to have paid the market price for all of them—it was when he came first that I asked him to speak to the man he bought it of—He sold to me three times" after that—he said the first time that he was quite satisfied it was got perfectly honestly—I don't think I asked him for any reference; Mr. Chamberlain happened to mention to me in conversation that he was being robbed—if I have said that I did not communicate with anyone outside my office until Mr. Chamberlain called upon me that would be correct—he did not come to my office; I met him out—I understood that Copping was in the seed and corn line—I thought I was buying my own isinglass—I did not send for the police; I took steps in my own factory to try and find the thief; I thought it was one of my own people who was robbing me—when Copping left the sample he called by appointment at my office—he was there to explain his possession when the police and Mr. Chamberlain were there—I presume he was asked who he bought it from, but I can't remember much of the conversation.
ROBERT LEMAN (City Detective Sergeant). On 4th July, having received instructions, I and Scrivener proceeded to watch the prisoners—Mr. Chamberlain, whose office is at 40, Great Tower Street, communicated with me—from the 17th I saw Dear almost daily—I saw Harris on the 17th leave his master's warehouse, Great Tower Street, about ten minutes past one to go to dinner; he went to the Queen's Head, Tower Hill—he did not meet anyone there—at 9 p.m. Dear and Harris left the warehouse together; they met no one that night—on the 18th Dear left the warehouse about 12.40, and went to Queen Street, Tower Hill, to Mr. Reynolds, and he returned to the Queen's Head, where he met Copping about twenty minutes past one, dinner time—they went to the Crooked Billet at the corner of the Minories—Dear left Copping there—at 6 p.m. I saw Harris and Dear together; they met Copping in Great Tower
Street—I watched them from the 18th up to the 29th, and I can give the occasions on which I saw them together—on 30th July I and Scrivener attended at Mr. Gunny's office by appointment—about one o'clock I saw Copping bring this bag of isinglass—it was brought into Mr. Gunny's private office, and emptied on the floor—after Mr. Chamberlain had examined it I said to Copping, "I am a police officer; where did you get this isinglass from?"—he said, "I bought it from a man named William Dear"—I said, "Where does he live?"—he said, "172, Lynton Road, Bermondsey"—I said, "When did you buy it?"—he said, "About a week ago"—I said, "Where did you buy it?"—he said, "In the Queen's Head, Tower Hill"—I said, "How much did you give for it"—he said, "Two shillings per lb."—I said, "Have you paid him for it?"—he said, "No; I only got the ticket for it yesterday"—I said, "What ticket?"—he said, "The cloak-room ticket; it was at Fenchurch Street Station"—I said, "When did Dear give you the ticket?"—he said, "About one or two yesterday, at the Queen's Head"—(I had seen Dear meet Copping and Harris there the day before)—I said to Copping, "What weight have you in the bag?"—he said, "Sixty-six lbs., including the bag"—I said, "How do you know?" he said, "Because I had it weighed"—I said, "Do you know Dear in business?"—he said, "I know he is employed by two or three firms"—I said, "Where?"—he said, "I do not know"—I said, "Have you any invoice for it?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Was any one with you yesterday?"—he said, "Yes, a man with a withered hand"—(Harris has lost some fingers)—I said, "You sold Mr. Gunny two parcels of isinglass in December and February last; did you get that from Dear?"—he said, "I might have done; I have purchased of him before"—I said, "I believe this isinglass to have been stolen from this gentleman," pointing to Mr. Chamberlain, "and I shall arrest you for receiving it, well knowing it to have been stolen"—he made no reply—I took him to Seething Lane Police Station, which is opposite the warehouse—after arresting Dear and Harris, I confronted them—I said, "Is this the man you bought it of?"—Copping said, "That is the man I bought it of"—Dear and Harris made no reply—after arresting Dear, I left him with Mr. Chamberlain, and sent for Harris from the warehouse to come to the office—when he came, I said, "I am a police officer, and you are accused with Dear, who is in custody, of robbing your employers, and selling it to a man, who is also in custody, named Copping, and now at Seething Lane Police Station"—Harris said, "You have made a mistake"—I confronted him with Dear and Mr. Chamberlain, and Mr. Chamberlain said, "Harris, Dear has told me that you and he have been taking isinglass out of my warehouse. Dear says he has been stealing it, and dividing the money with you"—he made no reply—when the charge was read to them at the station neither made any reply—they all gave their right addresses—Copping's is 18, Wellington Road, St. John's Wood.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I saw Dear, Harris, and Copping together at the Monument Tavern, at the end of Eastcheap, not far from where Harris is employed—on 18th July, about 6 o'clock, a man I know now to be Cooper was with them—I did not know who he was at the time—on Monday, 21st, I saw Dear, Hams, and Copping together at 6 o'clock, at the same tavern—I was in the street and in the
public-house—they went into the end bar—other people were there—on the 29th I saw them at 1.40 at the Queen's Head, Tower Hill; that is near where Harris is employed; it was the dinner hour—I have seen him go there alone during the dinner hour—I did not see the three together on any other occasions—I have seen Harris on many other occasions with Dear; usually when he left work he went straight away home with Dear—they lived in adjoining streets—I made these notes of my conversation with Copping at Mr. Gunny's warehouse, and notes of 18th, 21st, and 29th at the time—I have been twenty-two years in the force—I was recalled twice before the Magistrate—I said nothing before him about Harris having met Copping—I said that during my observations I saw them meet on several occasions-r-when my evidence was read to me I did not notice that that had not been taken down.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. I have had the conduct of this case—Mr. Chamberlain decided to give his two servants into custody—I had no direct authority to charge Copping; I charged him from observations I made of him, and my knowledge of the case—I charged him on my own authority in the first case; I don't know that it was without Mr. Chamberlain's instructions—up to the time I questioned Copping I had not decided whether I should take him into custody or not; it depended on the answers he gave—I was guided by his answers—all he told me was correct—having given a perfectly straightforward account, I took him into custody—I decided whether Mr. Harley, senior, should be charged; I saw him in company with Mr. Chamberlain, he is a connection or relation of Mr. Chamberlain, or of his firm—Mr. Chamberlain said he had bought parcels of isinglass from him—I did not make inquiries about Harley, because I knew he had been a dealer in isinglass—he told me he had dealt in isinglass about twelve months ago, in the Borough—I took his word for it, because I knew he had recently passed through the Bankruptcy Court—I decided whether Harley, junior, should be charged—Dear told me Copping was introduced to him by Harley—I considered I had no corroboration of the prisoner's statement, and decided not to arrest Harley, junior—Dear had pleaded guilty at that time, he was before the court; he wanted to be dealt with—I saw Dear once during his remands—I did not tell him if he pleaded guilty the Magistrate would dispose of his case; nothing was said about it—I decided whether Mr. Coventry should be prosecuted—I saw him—he had bought from Dear, and gave an explanation in Dear's presence of what Dear told him: that Dear had represented them to be dock samples that he had collected—then Coventry was called as a witness—I have been informed by Mr. Chamberlain that he himself has bought small lots from Copping and others, and that Mr. Coventry had offered some—I found Copping was acting, as agent for Keble Brothers, hay and straw and seed merchants—one of the Harleys was there at one time—I did not say I could make him a witness or put him in the dock as I pleased.
Re-examined. My chief investigated the case, and banded it over to me—Mr. Chamberlain signed the charge-sheet.
I only know Copping by sight—I have seen him in the Borough and in the City, not with either of the other prisoners.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I had one transaction with Dear in isinglass about three or four months ago, I should think—I never saw Harris at all.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. When Dear sold me isinglass, he said it was dock samples which he had collected—I believed this story—I had no reason to doubt it from the way he spoke.
WILLIAM HENRY CRISP . I am a commission agent, at 272, Richmond Road, Hackney—I was called at the Mansion House—I know Copping and Dear—I knew Dear was employed at Herring and Giles—in December, 1889, Copping asked me to call on him, and gave me his address at Herring and Giles—I called; I did not see Dear—I called again, but did not see him, and left word for him to come to my office at 3, Rood Lane; he came—Copping came there occasionally—he met Dear at my office—I don't know what passed, it was not within my hearing—two or three days after the interview a sack came; I felt it, and thought it was isinglass—Copping took it away.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I do not know Harris—I did not see him.
Cross-examined by MR. C. F. GILL. Copping came to use my office, which he took after my time—Dear represented himself as a man who was buying and selling things; barrels were mentioned, I don't know what number.
CHARLES HIGGINS . I am a financial agent, of Blythe Road, Hammersmith—I have known Copping about two years—in February this year I saw him at 17, Water Lane, at an office occupied by Messrs. Hamburgh and Poole—I was clerk to Mr. A. Veck in that office—Copping asked me whether he could have a sack of isinglass sent there; I assented to it, and a day or two afterwards it came—it weighed about a hundredweight—a day or two afterwards it was taken away—I knew Crisp when he was at 3, Rood Lane—I saw a sack of isinglass therein December, similar to the one in Water Lane—it was taken away—after that I saw Copping, and he told me he was glad it was taken away before the landlord put in for possession for his rent.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I do not know Harris.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. There was a question of distress in the office—Copping and myself were engaged in business transactions, buying hay and straw, and things of that kind.
JAMES DEAR (the Prisoner). I have pleaded guilty to several indictments for stealing goods from my master, Mr. Chamberlain, trading as Giles and Co.—Harris was my fellow servant—I had been in the service twelve years—Harris was there before me—my duties were to see after goods going out and coming in, and to see after things generally—Harris was foreman to direct me and the others in the receipt and despatch of goods—neither of us had anything to do with the stock-room—some of the stock was kept on the floor underneath where we worked, and some on the same floor, locked up in separate rooms—a few years back I had a conversation with Harris about taking goods—I never took any—about five years ago I first did anything wrong with my master's goods—Harris first spoke to me about doing it—I was in difficulties, and he asked me if I would like to make some money—I did not take with it then, but
after a week or two he said he knew where to dispose of some isinglass, and I said very well, and we did it then—after that, isinglass was taken by Harris—I was always outside when it was taken, but I know how it was done—there was a padlock on the trapdoor, and he had to open both doors to get the stuff—Harris picked the lock of the store-room door with a piece of iron; then he took the key out of the store-room, and opened the padlock, and went down—I first knew Copping about three years ago—Charlie Harley introduced him to me—in December, 1889, I met Copping on Tower Hill, and he asked me if I had any stuff to sell him—I said I did not know till I had asked Harris—I asked Harris, and make an arrangement with Copping to meet him again—he said he would tell me where to send the stuff in, and two or three days after I sent the stuff, about 30 lb., which Harris got out of the stock-room, to the place Copping told me, 17, Water Lane, I think the number was—the next I took was about February or March—I saw Copping before that, in February, he told me he had some money, and could buy some more if I had it, and he showed me some bank notes—I spoke to Harris, and a man carried about a hundredweight up to Rood Lane—I saw no one there, Copping had gone away then—about a fortnight before I was arrested, on 24th or 25th July, I saw Copping by Hart Street, Mark Lane—he had not paid me for the lot he had in February—he told me he had lost a lot of money, and could not afford to pay me—I said 1 should have nothing to do with it, I should set Harris on him, and let Harris speak to him about it—he said it was no good, but after a while we went into a public-house and had a drink, and he made an arrangement with me there to write to me in a week and let me know; he was to write to a friend to send me some money, and he should give me that money for another lot of stuff—he wrote to me the following week to meet him on Tower Hill—I met him—he told me he had not the money, but he would write me again, as he had not heard from his friend—he wrote to me again—I met him in Wormwood Street—he said I was to fetch Harris with me the next time I met him—I took Harris, and he and I met Copping about six o'clock a week after that—the same day that I met him at Wormwood Street I met him with Harris at six o'clock at the Monument public-house, and while we were there he went out and brought in Arthur Cooper, who was to hand Copping some money, but he would not do so, to pay for this lot that he had had in February—then Copping arranged to meet me two days after on Tower Hill—he then met me and gave me £5—next day I met him, and he gave me £6—I went down on to the Custom House Quay and gave Harris half, and we went back to our work—that afternoon that he gave me the £6 Cooper came to my place, and when he had given me the £6 I gave him a note, which was supposed to be a ticket for goods at the railway station, but it was not really, as there were no goods there—the next day Cooper came to the cellar at our place with this note, and whistled down and said, "I want you here"—I went up, and he arranged with me to meet Copping at a public-house—I met Copping at the City Arms, a public-house close to my master's place in Tower Street—Copping said, "Good God, what have you done?" and I told him that I did not know what it was, because I pretended to know nothing about it, and after a good while he
said he should give us in charge—ho said, "I shall lag the whole affair," meaning he should tell of the whole affair—I said, "The best thing we can do is to go into Seething Lane and give ourselves up"—Copping refused—we went round to Water Lane, and he said if he did not get the stuff he should give Harris and mo a good hiding, and then ho should clear out of the country—I said, "I shall do nothing about it myself; you must see Harris about it; I am nothing to do with it"—I made an arrangement for him and Harris to meet, and Harris arranged with Copping that they should have £60 worth of stuff—I did not see it come out of the warehouse, but I knew it was going—on the Friday previous to his arrest Copping arranged with Harris to send him that lot of stuff—I met him by the Monument, and he told me the arrangement he had made with Harris, and on the Monday I met him and gave him a note for that lot—it had gone to the Great Eastern booking-office at Fenchurch Street Station—Harris packed it and gave it to a man—I did not see him do it; I was always outside—I saw it the day before—I saw the man carrying it out of the warehouse—I followed the man to the booking-office, and paid twopence for the booking—a ticket was given, and I ran round Tower Hill and gave the ticket to Copping—the next day I was arrested.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. It was Harris who always stole the isinglass; I was an accomplice, I suppose—I was always the person who took it anywhere, and was found taking it about—I have been doing it five years—he did it before I assisted him; he was accused of it once—I told Mr. Chamberlain he had been doing it—I did not say for many years—he asked me to do it as others had done—I know he did it before, though I cannot prove it, because he and other foremen were accused by the old governor, Mr. Giles—Harris was suspended—I cannot give the name of any person who ever saw Harris dealing in isinglass, or in possession of isinglass, either before or since I have been mixed up in this matter—what first started me was my owing Harris ten shillings and two shillings interest, and my owing money all round, and he asked me to do it—I swear no claim has been made on me for the maintenance of a child—I have not had a child by a woman who is not my wife; a woman had said it is so, but it is not true; she has not applied for nor got an order against me, and I have not paid anything to her or to anyone on her account—this particular isinglass was stolen at from one to half-past one on about Monday, 28th July—I did not stay in the warehouse during the dinner hour—I know Reeves—I might stay for one or three minutes; I am generally out first and away—I was on the stairs on this day—Harris was inside the warehouse—there were two meetings at the Monument Tavern when Harris was present—about 14th July Cooper was there—Harris took the leading part in the conversation on that day—Cooper was at the bar, and back and outside the house—he was talking about lending money—he could hear to a certain extent—Harris talked to Copping and Cooper.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. When I first began to steal, fire years ago, Harris did the selling—the first person I sold to was Copping's partner, Charley Harley—that was when they had an office close to one of the yards in the Borough, the Queers Head, I believe—Harley introduced me to Copping—I know Harley's father; Harris has sold to him, I did not—since then I have sold to Harley's father—I first sold isinglass
about eighteen months ago—Harley's father was bankrupt, he had no business—I met him in the Borough, and he spoke about what he had done, and said could we do anything for him—I heard he was a distant relation of the firm—he knew I was a thief, robbing my employers; I did not put it in such plain words—he knew it was stolen property, and he must have known I was a thief—I had two or three transactions with him, I suppose—I made no false statement to him, because I knew he knew all about it—young Harley knew I was a thief, too—I sold to Copping and Coventry—Coventry did not know I was a thief, because I sold to him through Harley—I did not sell to Coventry myself at all—if Coventry said he bought from me, and that I told him I had collected it as dock samples, it would not be true—Harley told him about the dock samples, and told me to say that too if I was asked how I came by it—he never asked me—I might have told Coventry that, but I never sold to him directly—I sold Harley two lots—it did not occur to me I might get a better price for it if I said I picked it up as dock samples—Harley told me to say it was dock samples, because he thought Coventry would not take it on if he knew it was stolen—Harley did not say it was stolen; Coventry thought it was got honestly, because Harley told him it was dock samples—he said to me, "Are you going to send some isinglass into my place?"—he did not ask how I got it—I don't remember if I told him—I did not tell him I had collected it from different lots, and was entitled to it—I have not represented myself as a man with money, having shares in companies, or as a speculator, buying barrels and casks—I have made excuses to get out to buy casks and kegs for the firm—I did not tell him I attended sales at the docks—I have never done so—I went to the London Docks in the course of my work—the last conversation I had with either of the Harleys was about four or five months ago—I did not know Harley sold to Mr. Chamberlain, because he has told me they never dealt or did anything with our firm since they failed two years ago—I did not say that the reason I stole was because I was pressed for money by a woman, nor that she came and made a disturbance at our place of business—they have come there, but not for money—I made a statement in this case to clear myself, because I have been wanting to stop this for a good while, and I have been threatened so often that I said I would tell the truth of the whole lot, so that it could all be cleared up—the first statement I made was to Mr. Chamberlain—I did not mention any name then—Leman came to me when I wrote for him, when I was under remand—my father came and said to me, "Why don't you plead guilty?"—I said, "I am going to make a statement"—I had heard that if the prisoners pleaded guilty the case might be dealt with before the Magistrate, and I thought it would be better than lying about so long with it on my mind—I wanted to plead guilty for the benefit of all of us—both of the other prisoners said they would plead guilty at the start—I made the statement in the interest of all of us; I did not think I should be let off lighter; I don't suppose now that I shall—I certainly did not think that if they were convicted it might benefit me—I didn't suppose it would affect me either way—the detective asked me no questions—he asked if I wished to make a statement, and I made it—he did not tell me what he knew; when I mentioned one time, he said, "That was when I missed you"—I asked Harris and Copping if they were going 'o plead guilty—I did not say in the cells that if they did not plead guilty I
would make it much hotter for them than I had done—I did not call that out, or anything of the sort—I asked Harris why he had pleaded not guilty.
Re-examined. After seeing my father, I wrote to Leman to come to me, and he came and took down my statement in writing.
ALFRED COOPER . I am a beerhouse keeper, of Cleveland Street, Mile End—I know Copping—about the end of July I saw him on several occasions in Botolph Lane—he asked me to take an order to Herring, Giles, and Co., and go into the office and ask for Dear, and if Dear was not there to ask about a parcel—when I got there I saw Dear in the basement—I said, "Are you Mr. Dear?"—he said, "Yes," and came up the ladder—I showed him the order, and delivered the message, and he said, "Tell Mr. Copping I will see him this evening at six o'clock; I cannot get away now"—I went back and saw Copping, and gave him Dear's message; he said, "Very good"—on previous occasions I have seen them together.
Cross-examined by MR. A. GILL. I remember being in the Monument Tavern once when Copping and Dear were there—Dear called me outside, and asked me privately about borrowing the money—Harris did not hear it; it was mentioned between them in his presence.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. I was willing to lend the money—Dear said he could have one lot of isinglass after another if he chose, but he could not get another lot until he paid for it—I told Copping I did not like Dear's manner, nor his way of speaking.
HENRY GEORGE CHAMBERLAIN . I am an isinglass merchant, trading as Herring, Giles, and Co., at 40, Great Tower Street—I believe Harley was a distant relative of my late brother-in-law, Mr. Giles—for quite eighteen months past we have been missing isinglass—on or about 3rd July we communicated with the police, and placed the matter in their hands—on 30th July I went by appointment to Mr. Gunny's office with Leman and another officer—I saw Copping come in, bringing this large bag of isinglass—I heard the conversation between him and Leman (MR. C.F. GILL said he accepted the whole of this conversation)—ultimately I signed the charge sheet—Harris has been with us about twenty years I believe, and Dear about twelve years—neither of them has ever purchased isinglass from the firm, and paid for it; they are not allowed to do it—I have had my suspicions that large quantities were missing, but I could not confirm them before this.
Cross-examined by MR. C.F. GILL. I knew Mr. Giles bought isinglass from Harley—people who deal in hops deal in isinglass, and sell to brewers—occasionally it is sold in small parcels; I should make inquiries if a person offered a small lot—Copping offered a somewhat small lot—I asked for references, and had references to a firm of good standing, but they have failed since; the answers were satisfactory—I have never bought such small quantities as 1 cwt. from anybody I hare not known before, but I have from persons known to me—I may have bought nearly a hundredweight or half-hundredweight, but not 10 lb. or 14 lb.—if Dear has said he had opportunities of buying or getting small quantities it would be false—Copping answered all the questions put to him—I bought two lots from Copping—I was satisfied with the result of my inquiries—I had no belief it was stolen, but that was about two years ago; my last transaction with him was in June
two years ago—our transactions were for cash—I knew him in the name of Copping—I paid the market price—Dear used to go to the docks to clear goods for us—I gave him the warrants; he went with one of Sedgeley's vans and came back with the goods which would go into our warehouse—I don't know anything about rummage sales—Dear had no right to collect samples.
By the COURT. The present market price of isinglass is about £4 10s.
Copping's statement before the Magistrate: "I had no idea the stuff was stolen."
GUILTY .—HARRIS and COPPING— Eighteen Month' Hard Labour each. DEAR— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against the prisoners for conspiracy.
THIRD COURT.—Monday, September 15th, and
NEW COURT, Tuesday, September 16th. 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended Gale.
GUILTY .—SAVIN— Six Months' Hard Labour. GALE to enter into recognizances.
MESSRS. GILL and MUIR Prosecuted.
ELLEN HOOK . I live at Broad Oaks, near Sandridge, Essex—I have a house at 50, Warlock Road—about the beginning of 1888 Mr. Hatton and the prisoner called, and the prisoner called afterwards, and said that Mr. Hatton was a coal agent, and was to be my tenant—I asked for references, and two were given—I wrote to them, and the replies were very favourable; they are destroyed—the prisoner took possession of my house in January or March, 1888, and remained nine months—he paid no rent—at the end of the nine months two men, named Richards and Scorey, called on me and wanted to know if I wanted to get rid of Mr. Hatton; they represented themselves as brokers, and said they would undertake to get him out of the house—I gave them a few shillings at a time, 10s. or 12s. altogether—there were lodgers in the house when he took it, very nice
people—"Wells wanted the usual house agents' commission, and I paid him £2 by instalments—before I paid it all I found out the nature of the tenant I had got.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Mr. Hatton said that he was agent to Rippon and Co., coal merchants—I gave him an order for coals, but he never brought them—the policeman left after Hatton got in—I lived at No. 33.
Re-examined. The rent was £40 a year, on a three years' agreement—I gave him the £2 for getting a tenant; he asked for more, but I would not give it him.
GEORGE CARTER . I am a house agent, of 10, Chippenham Road—I know Richards and Scorey—I do not know Richards by the name of Girling—I identified them at the prison—about June or July, 1888, I went to 50, Warlock Road—I had instructions from the brokers of Richards and Scorey to follow the goods from 50, Warlock Road to 22, College Road, and did so, and found Hatton and Wells in possession at 22, College Road—I first saw Wells, and said, "I have got a warrant against your goods for the quarter's rent, £10"—Hatton said, "Those goods are on the hire system"—Wells said, "No, they are not; they are mine"—being in doubt, I did not distrain upon them—he said Hatton was the tenant of 50, Warlock Road.
Cross-examined. You said that I had no right upstairs in your apartments—you said, "If you go upstairs I will knock you down"—Hatton said that the goods were his, and you said they were not—I did not strike your name off the warrant.
JOHN WALDEN . I am a builder, of 12, Maiden Lane, Strand—I was the owner of 11, Woodfield Crescent, Harrow Road, which was to let in February, 1888, and Mr. Carter wrote, and the prisoner afterwards called with him—Mr. Carter said that he had brought a tenant, lie brought an agreement with him—I had received this letter from Mr. Carter, in which he names the references—the prisoner represented himself as of Lancaster Street, Hyde Park, and gave as references, Mr. Hall, 216, Belsize Park, Kilburn, and Mr. Darling, 11, Glengall Road, Kilburn—I do not think anyone wrote to them—the prisoner said that he had held the Edinburgh Castle in the Strand, and his aunt was there, who was going to live in our house—he went into possession at the end of January, but the rent did not commence till March 25—this is the agreement he sighed, it is dated February 22—he paid no rent, I distrained in October—I got a letter on 11th July, saying he was sorry he could not pay the rent that day, but would send" it on the 23rd—I received a visit from Scorey and Richards or Gurling, who I saw before the Magistrates at Marylebone in February this year—they asked me if 1 knew what sort of a tenant I had got at No. 11—I said I thought I had not got a very good one, for I could not get any rent—Richards, I think, said, "He is a scoundrel"—they urged me to place the matter in their hands to get possession, and could do so in three weeks if I would pay £2 or £3—I said I would not—he then suggested another person to collect the rents from the lodgers for me, which I agreed to—the prisoner never lived in the house, it was let out to lodgers—the time ran out nearly three weeks, and I then received this document by post. (An agreement between Wells, Scorey, and. Richards)—I believe the signature W. Wells to be the prisoner's—I received several letters from him, also from
Scorey, and this is signed in the same way—I do not know Richards' writing—after that I received a letter from Scorey, saying, "I am instructed by Mr. Wells to write to you about the above house, etc."—I replied to this, and received this letter (asking for an appointment), and then this (From Scorey, asking for £5 or £6 to give up the house)—after that I received one or two visits from Wells, who said he had not authorised them to receive the rents, and knew nothing of an offer of £2 to give up possession, but he was willing to do so if I would give him £2—I agreed to that, and took this document from him. (Dated September 12th, and signed by Wells, offering to give up possession of the house on receiving 5s. on account of 40s.)—£3 or £4 was paid to him—at the time we distrained there were decent lodgers, but Scorey and Richards lodged in the house before I got possession, and they had to be bought out—the premises were in a very bad condition when they were delivered up; I had to pay about £10 for repairs, and they were not thoroughly done then—that was not fair wear and tear.
Cross-examined. Perry was my broker; he found you were not living in the house, and he brokered on two lodgers for two weeks' rent—I asked you to cancel the agreement, and you did so—you did everything you could to give me up possession; you said you were deceived by Scorey and Richards.
Re-examined. I received a letter from Wells the night after the brokers had been there.
GEORGE CARTER (Re-examined). In February, 1888, the prisoner came to me and asked the particulars of 11, Woodville Crescent—he gave me the names of two references; Darling was one—I afterwards went with him to Mr. Walden, the landlord, and he signed an agreement which I witnessed—before he signed it he showed me the Edinburgh Castle public-house in the Strand, and said he had sold it, and expected to have £3,000 or £4,000 shortly—in the following April I went to 11, Woodville Crescent on behalf of a lodger named Burridge, and saw Richards, Scorey, and Wells—I said to the brokers, "Will you kindly show me your warrant, as you are going to distrain on Mr. Burridge?"—they refused, and used most disgraceful language, and a mob of two hundred people assembled outside the door—the first quarter's rent was due in June, and shortly after that I met the prisoner in Chippenham Road—he said he meant to make Mr. Alder give him £10 to go out, and give him a receipt in full for the rent; and after he was out Richards and Scorey would still be in possession, and he would have to give them something to go out, and after they had got the money they would still stay on—on 2nd August Richards and Scorey came to my office about Hatton's matter—Hatton was outside—they brought a sewing machine and other things to be sold, having lent ten shillings on them—I afterwards paid the proceeds to Richards and Scorey—I saw Wells, Richards, and Scorey together several times after that, up to their conviction—it is not true that they ceased to have any connection after the quarrel at Mr. Walden's.
Cross-examined. You refused to pay half a guinea for the agreement for Mr. Walden's house, and never had one—I saw you with them in various public-houses; you were always together.
Walden, and called at 11, Woodville Crescent, and saw Richards and Scorey, who said they were placed there by Mr. Wells as his agents to do the business for him; that they were lodgers, and occupied the two parlours—they said if they could get Mr. Walden to give them £5 or £6 they would give up possession—I subsequently received some money from Mr. Walden, and gave 5s. to a man in the first floor back, and £1 15s. to Scorey and Richards—that was the balance in discharge of all claims, and they gave up possession and gave me the keys—I paid £3 odd in various sums—I claimed six months' rent from the lodgers after the prisoners had gone, and while Scorey and Richards were living in the house, but I had no rent from them—I received this receipt from the prisoner for 12s., part of the sum, for giving up possession of the house.
Cross-examined. You served me with a notice to pay the rent to you—I went to the Police-court with you, and waited till you came out, and said that the Magistrate said that you had no power to turn them out by force.
Re-examined. I remained outside the Police-court; what occurred inside I do not know—I left the prisoner to do the business.
JOHN BURRIDGE . I am a cab proprietor, of 9, Biscay Road, Fulham—in March, 1888, I rented two rooms from the prisoner at 4s. 6d. a week—my first payment was on March 12th and the last September 10th—I paid the prisoner, but I paid some to Mr. Jocelyn, the collector—the prisoner did not live in the house while I was there—Scorey and Richards lived there, and an oldish man; I do not know whether he was Brown.
HANNAH PAYNE . My husband is a cab proprietor, of 33, Little Grove-street, Marylebone—in 1888 he had a house to let, 8, Warlock Road—the prisoner called in February to offer himself as a tenant—he gave two references: Darling, of 11, Glengall Road, was one of them; I forget the other—he signed an agreement for three years at £40 a year, which I have destroyed—he took possession at the end of February, and remained till July 6th—I received this letter from Darling. (Stating that Wells was a respectable man, and in a position to pay £60 or £80 a year)—while he was in possession, Richards called two or three times, and said, Do you know what kind of tenant you have got?"—I said I thought very good, as his references were very good—he said that he was a scoundrel, and I should not receive any rent from him, and offered to broker him out if I paid him, but I refused to give him any money—he came over with Markham, who gave "Wells the same character as Richards did—I did not pay either of them—I employed Mr. Jocelyn, and got the prisoner out—there were lodgers in the house, which was very dirty when I got possession—I never got any rent—I identified Gurling in prison as Richards—I have also identified Markham.
Cross-examined. Those men did not say that you told them to call.
JOHN HARRIS . I live in Kilburn Square, and am the owner of 11, Glengall Road, which I let to Mr. Darling, at Michaelmas, 1887, at £40 a year on an agreement—he gave two references, which were quite satisfactory—he remained in possession till the middle of February, 1888—he paid no rent—I distrained on him, but realised nothing—the goods were scarcely of any value—I got rid of him by giving him the goods, and a half-sovereign or sovereign, and I had to pay the expenses of the distress—during Darling's tenancy, Markham called on me to ask me to let
Darling remain till the end of another quarter, Darling having distrained as a lodger, but I did not entertain the proposition.
WALTER JOHN SPENCER . I am a house agent, of 75, Fairfax Road, South Lambeth; I took over the business in September, 1887, and found a man named Ball in possession of 216, Belsize Road—I distrained on him for a quarter or half year's rent at £60, but realised nothing—there were two tenants on the first floor named Hall, and others on the top floor—Hall made a declaration before a Magistrate that the goods were his, and then I withdrew—Ball paid no rent—it cost me 50s. to get him out, but I did not give him anything.
ORIEL BARKER . I am a solicitor of 7, South Square, Gray's Inn—I act for the owner of 22, College Road, Willesden—Mr. Brown brought the prisoner to my office on 17th July, 1888, and I made an agreement with the prisoner that if he did certain repairs, which came to £6 5s., he should be allowed the first quarter's rent off the agreement, and gave him a letter to that effect—he signed the agreement in my presence; it was dated July 17th, for three years, and entered into possession—I did not apply for the first quarter's rent, but when the second quarter became due I found he had not done the repairs, so I asked for the half instead of the quarter—he never paid anything, and I put in a distress, hut the lodgers claimed the goods, and I paid the lodgers £1 8s. 9d. to go out—I got Wells out about October, 1889—he had paid no rent from July, 1888—I do not think he resided there—I turned out the tenants and took possession.
Cross-examined. I do not know whether there were any water-pipes when you took possession, or whether you wrote to the landlord about them—Mr. Brown paid several cheques for repairs.
Re-examined. I represent Mr. Wheal—I had full authority from him.
WALTER HERBERT BROWN . I am a surveyor, of 11, Coleman Street—I was the agent for 22, College Road—in consequence of a communication from Mr. Drake I communicated with Mr. Hatton, of 50, Warlock Road—I saw Mr. Drake, and got references from him or his clerk—one was to H. A. Hobbs, of Warlock Road. (This sated: "I have known Mr. Wells some time, and always found him punctual in his payments, and a desirable tenant")—another was from James Hatton. (This stated: "I have known Mr. Wells five years, and always found him a straightforward and respectable man, prompt in his payments; he will make a good tenant")—Wells was then accepted as tenant—I did not see him there, but I saw his wife there—he did some repairs—I got no intimation from him that he was leaving the house.
Cross-examined. The front railings were not done, and a pane of glass was not mended—I do not remember the rest—you did not write to me saying that there were no water pipes, and decline the payment in consequence; or that the drains were bad, and you should leave the house—I saw you with Richards and Scorey just previous to August—I should not like to swear I saw you with them after October, 1888.
Re-examined. I did not say that I had seen those men right up to the, time of the prosecution of the ten men, up to October, 1881—I had missed
Wells for a number of months—I saw them in Harrow Road and Chippenham Road.
THOMAS HERBERT DRAKE . I am a house-agent, of 343, Harrow Road—I had the letting of 22, College Road, from Mr. Brown, as the local agent—the prisoner called at my place on June 18th, and inquired the rent, which was £28 a year—he said he was a builder and decorator, of 11, Warlock Road, and would do the repairs, and offered £24—I was acting as agent for Mr. Barker, who acted for Mr. Wheal—I communicated with Mr. Brown on the subject of references.
Cross-examined. I never went and had a drink with you, nor did you say you should give the house up because the drains were bad.
SAMUEL GARRETT . I am a possession man—on October 19th I was in possession of 22, College Road; the number had then been altered to 43—a man named Edwards or Brown occupied the two top rooms; the ground floor was empty—the prisoner came about two o'clock next day—the lodger showed me a rent-book on the second day to show that he was a lodger, that his goods should not be seized—a man who I think was a local tradesman came and told me to withdraw—the prisoner said that the man was the landlord of the house, and the other man was a lodger, and we had no right to interfere with his goods, and my principal came down and withdrew me.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether the man's name was Andrews—I believe you told him he would have to go out that night; it was arranged the same night with my people that the lodgers should go away—I have known you ten or twelve years as the proprietor of the Edinburgh Castle, Strand, and the Marquis of Granby.
Re-examined. I do not know when he left the Edinburgh Castle, or Under what circumstances.
THOMAS THOMPSON . I am a builder, of Camden Road, Kensington—I took over 9, Tamplin Mews, Warlock Road, and found a man named Hobbs in possession—there were no living rooms, only a coach-house and stable—I let them at 14s. a week; he owed me about £20, and was bankrupt; I paid him two guineas to go out.
Cross-examined. I found him as caretaker or foreman to a man named. Page, whom I do not know.
EDWARD PLUNKETT CHAMBERLAIN . I am clerk to Barker and Wheal, of 7, South Square, Gray's Inn—in consequence of instructions I went fifteen or twenty times to College Road to see the prisoner, but never saw him—Mr. Barker also instructed me to look up James Hatton at 50, Warlock Road, but I could not find him; fresh people had been there eight months, who had never heard the name—I also tried to see Mr. Hobbs, of Tamplin Mews, but the name was quite unknown.
WILLIAM NASH . I am a stonemason, of 1, Kennington Oval—I am entrusted with the letting of 12, Cedars Road, Fulham; the landlord is Mr. Hitch—about the middle of February the prisoner came to me about the house; he said he was a decorator, in business with his brother, and lived at 29, Princes Road, Shepherds Bush, that his father had died and left them a lot of property which had to be divided, but he could not agree with his brother and sisters, and they were going to sell the property and divide it—he referred me to John Carter, 8, Carleton Road, Hammersmith, and Mr. Freeman, 38, Alexander Road, South Kensington—I wrote to them, and received this reply
from Freeman. (Stating that he had known Mr. Wells some years, and no doubt he would be a good tenant)—I believed that was a genuine letter from Freeman, and agreed to let "Wells have the house—I then met the prisoner's father at the house in Carlton Road, and was rather surprised to see a dead man walking about, and wrote to the prisoner at once and told him he could not have the house; but he had got lodgers already in—he had signed the agreement before I met his father—this is it (produced)—he said that it was his wife's father who had died, and not his own father—he said that he had done £3,000 worth of work for Mr. Whiteley, of Westbourne Grove, and had got his lodger, Mr. Galton, to corroborate him—he paid no rent; he got possession two days after June quarter, and a week afterwards he was arrested.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you had worked for Mr. Whiteley, and that he had done £2,000 worth of work—you said that you knew Sergeant Atkinson very well—I went to the references personally.
Re-examined. He gave Sergeant Atkinson as a reference, and said that they often had a glass of beer together.
Cross-examined. I have known you four or five years—I do not know what trade you worked at.
Cross-examined. I have referred to the address book, and find one man named Wells without any address was employed for two nights at the spring cleaning in March, at eight shillings a night.
GEORGE WHEATLEY (Police Sergeant X). On 21st July I went with Carter to Wormwood Scrubs Prison, and saw the convicts Scorey and Markham—I also went to Pentonville Prison and saw Gurling and Lewis—Carter saw them also, and so did Mrs. Payne—I have tried to find Hatton, Hobbs, Darling, and Hall, but cannot find any of them—I was present here in April last when Markham, Lewis, Scorey, Gurling, and Grant were convicted, with others, in connection with house frauds—evidence was given that Grant took possession of a house, and gave Grant, of 22, College Road, as a reference.
Cross-examined. You did not tell me at the Police-court that Mr. Hobbs was employed at Mr. Willett's, the large builders—I never spoke to you at the Police-court—I have never been to Mr. Willett in Clarendon Square.
AMOS ATKINSON (Police Sergeant X). On 21st June I took the prisoner en a warrant which I had held for about two months—I knew him—I said, "Wells, I hold a warrant for you for conspiring with Markham, Gurling, and others, in obtaining houses by fraud"—he said, "I know nothing about it, I only know one of the persons you have mentioned, and that is Markham; what house is it?"—I said, "11, Woodfield Crescent"—he said, "Oh, they put in an illegal distress on me there"—I said, "There are other houses in addition to that"—he said, "Well, I shall be defended"—he was charged at the station, and made no reply—I have known him since 1884—other officers and I were looking for
him for seven weeks—I never had the friendly glass of beer which he has mentioned during that time.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he cancelled the agreement when Mr. Walden asked him, and that it was not proved that he did any business with Richards and Scorey afterwards; that his cousin was going to take the house with him, and let it out, but she was taken ill and died; that he should have stopped in Mr. Brown's house if the drains had been good, which had to be made good after he left; that Hatton asked him to let him put his furniture into two rooms for three weeks. He asked the JURY not to believe Hatton's evidence; stated that he had been misunderstood about his working at Mr. Whiteley's, and maintained that he was a man of good character: upon which the following rebutting evidence was called:
AMOS ATKINSON (Re-examined). I was present at Middlesex Sessions on 21st April, 1884, when the prisoner was convicted of obtaining money by fraud, and sentenced to nine months' hard labour, in the name of William Gowlett Wells—I produce the certificate.
Cross-examined. You made the acquaintance of two young girls sisters and orphans, who lived with their aunt; they got hold of their aunt's chequebook, and a cheque was passed to Mr. Lee, a butcher, I cannot remember whether by them or by you, but I know a warrant was issued first against the girl, and she alterwards gave evidence against you—I think you had banked at the Consolidated Bank formerly, but the account was closed—I am under the impression that it was not one of your own cheques.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
THOMAS CAIHART (Policeman A. R. 63). I was on duty in Peter Street, Westminster, at a quarter to two a.m.—I saw the prisoner and another man quarreling, and I said, "You had better go indoors, and not stop here quarreling at this time in the morning"—they seemed quite sober—the prisoner said, "I will go when I like"—I was in uniform—he went a few steps, and all of a sudden I felt a blow on the left cheek by the ear—I caught the prisoner with my right hand, and shouted out, "lam stabbed; get hold of him quick"—Bradford and Downing came to my assistance, and we took the prisoner into custody—I blew my whistle—I began to feel weak from loss of blood; I ran as well as I could to Victoria Station, got into a cab, and drove to Westminster Hospital, where the surgeon examined me—about half an hour before this I had noticed the prisoner by himself about the same spot; I did not speak to him then—the other man went away and said nothing—I never put my hand near the prisoner before I was stabbed—I came out of the hospital on Sunday week, and I am still invalided, and shall be so for another month; I still feel weak.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were sitting down by the lamp-post, not very far from the lodging-house when I first saw you—you were a stranger to me—I did not see your pipe—when I saw you afterwards you were standing up by the lamp-post—I never touched you before you stabbed me—you were not cutting up tobacco with a knife in your hand, I saw no tobacco.
EDWARD BRADFORD (Policeman A 180). On 7th August, I was in Great Peter Street, Westminster, and saw the prisoner quarreling with a man; Caihart requested him to go away, and said, "It is quite time you were indoors," and he walked a few paces across the road, turned round, took a knife out of his coat pocket, and made a blow at Caihart's face—I went to his assistance, when he struck at me, cutting my tunic through the collar—the blow was similar in direction to the one he gave Caihart—I closed with him, and he made a blow in a downward direction, cutting my tunic through there—I blew my whistle—Downing came to my assistance; I attempted to take the knife from the prisoner, but we had to draw our truncheons and hit him on the hands to get it from him, he held it so tightly—other constables came up, four in all, and we got him to the station; he was very violent the whole way—he had been drinking—when he took the knife from his pocket I saw him open it before he used it on Caihart—I was three or four yards from Caihart.
Cross-examined. I got two separate blows with the knife—my coat was sound before.
JOHN DOWNING (Policeman A. R. 100). On 7th August I was in Peter Street, with Caihart, at a quarter past 2 a.m.—I saw the prisoner and another man quarreling—I and Caihart requested him to go away and stop quarreling, and said, "It is quite time for you to go"—the other man went away; I saw no more of him—the prisoner said he should go when he liked—I was three or four yards from Caihart, and Bradford was about the same distance from him on the other side—I saw the prisoner walk two or three yards, pull out a knife from his pocket, open it, turn round, and strike Caihart in the face—I seized hold of him by his left arm—he tried to stab me in the face, but did not—I blew my whistle—other constables came up—I struck the prisoner three blows on the wrist with my truncheon—he was not drunk, but had been drinking; he knew what he was about; he did not stagger—I did not smell his breath—I searched and found on him a small piece of plug tobacco, such as would have to be cut with a knife.
FREDERICK BURNETT BETTS . I am house-surgeon at Westminster Hospital—at half-past two a.m., on 7th August, I saw Caihart at the surgery—he had a punctured and incised wound on his left cheek, three inches long and about one inch deep—it extended through into the mouth, and to the root of the tongue—he had a small superficial wound on his right arm, not of much consequence—this knife would cause the wound on the left cheek—it would have to be used with some violence—there was blood on the knife at the Police-court, and there is a little now—the puncture would be produced by the point, and the incision by its being drawn along—it was near the carotid artery and the jugular vein—the constable was sober.
GEORGE WATSON (Police Inspector A). At half-past two, on 7th August, the prisoner was brought to the Rochester Row Station—before he was charged he wanted to make a statement—I told him to wait—I charged him with unlawfully wounding Caihart and Bradford—he said, "I was sitting on the kerbstone, cutting up tobacco, when a big man came behind me, and struck me a blow in the face; I jumped up, put up my band to save another blow, and then the knife must have struck him; I bad no intention to do him any bodily harm"—I said to him, "That
will not explain how you came to stab a second constable"—he said, "I now nothing of the second constable"—this small piece of cake tobacco was found on him, but no pipe—he was perfectly sober in my opinion; probably he had had a little drink.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said it was quite an accident; that he was cutting up tobacco, when the constables pushed and knocked him about; and that as they were so doing the knife must have entered them.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 16th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
COSGROVE and McCORMICK PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
ARTHUR SEWELL (Police Sergeant E.) On 11th August I received information, in consequence of which, on Tuesday, the 12th, I went and saw Regan at Benjamin Street, Clerkenwell—I asked him if he knew lads called Mac and Dimmer—he said, "No"—I asked where he was last Sunday evening—he said, "At home"—I said, "A cash-box has been stolen from your late employer, Mr. Baker; have you heard of that?"—he said, "No"—I then left him, and made further inquiry; in consequence of which I and several other officers went, on the evening of the 18th, in search of him and the two lads—we found Regan where I had seen him before, where he lived—he was told he would have to go to the station; and when there I said to him, "Well, now you will have to be charged with the offence I was asking you about; you did not tell me the truth, you see?"—he said, "I will tell the truth now, sir; I will own I told them where the cash-box was, and how to get it, but I did not go myself"—at that moment something was said by a witness; and Regan then said, "I only had twenty-five shillings"—at that time the other two prisoners were brought in—Cosgrove heard that last remark of Regan's, and he said, "You had the pin as well"—Regan said, "I had the pin; I gave it to Tom Moore"—they were then all charged, but made no reply.
Cross-examined. Regan was arrested about nine in the evening of the 18th—he was in custody when he said this—I did not converse with him; he said this himself—I had told he would be charged—I believe Cosgrove said, "I gave the pin to Regan to mind."
ROSE BAKER . I am the wife of George Baker, a coffee-house keeper, 135, St. John Street, Clerkenwell—on Sunday, 10th August, at mid-day, I put up some bills with the money ready to pay on the Monday; put them into a cash-box and locked it up, and put it under the sofa; it contained a ring, a diamond pin, and about £17 in gold and silver in a purse; altogether the property was worth a little over £30, and I left the house, after fastening the doors and windows—I took the key of the door with me—next morning I found the window wide open and the cash box gone; there were three finger marks on the sill—Regan had been in our service about four months, and had left a fortnight previous—he had
been into that room many times, and had seen the cash-box while in the service.
Cross-examined. I had no conversation with him after the robbery—while he was with us there were two or three little disputes between him and my husband—I know nothing of his family—I can't say that I could give him a good character.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "Two or three days before Bank Holiday I met McCormick and Cosgrove; they said they meant to get some money, and they said, ‘Any money at Baker's?' I said, 'Yes.' They said, Where do they keep it; in a till?' I said, 'No, in a box.' They said, 'Where abouts?' I said, 'On the first floor. They did not say nothing about it till last Monday. I went into the wash-house and saw them, and saw Cosgrove with a handful of silver. I said, ‘Where did you get that from?' He said, 'You will be surprised when I tell you. I done it at your place, at Baker's.'"
GUILTY. BEGAN, strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his youth and bad companionship. — Nine Days' Imprisonment COSGROVE PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at Guildhall for larceny from the person— Six Months' Hard Labour. McCORMICK— Nine Days' Imprisonment.
712. ALFRED SMITH (27) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing whilst employed in the Post Office a post letter containing postal orders and stamps, the property of the Postmaster-General— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
JOSHUA WILLIAM DOWLE . I am a butcher of Angel Lane, Stratford—on Easter Monday I gave the prisoner £3 to put on Hex, a horse running in the Grand National—Hex won, and I saw the prisoner from time to time, but could get no money out of him, though I asked him several times—the Derby Day was June 4th, and several days before that he said, "I have got forty to two on Sainfoin, you can go halves with me if you like," and showed me a paper; I said, "Yes"—I had a form, and he gave it to Mr. Ponsford, who kept it; he is my friend, and is a wheelwright at Leytonstone—I afterwards asked for the voucher—I saw it before the Magistrate—I went to the Derby and saw Sainfoin win—I saw the prisoner next day at Mr. Penbury's; he said he was very glad the horse had won—I said, "Where is the proper voucher?"—he said, "At home"—I said, "This is no good, you must fetch it"; that was the one Ponsford held—this is it (produced)—I said, "I do not want it if it is like what it was at Easter," but he went home and fetched it—he said, "Oh no, I won't do you," and gave me another paper, and said, "Don't show it to anybody"—I put it in my
pocket, and went to Epsom to fetch my horse and cart—I gave him 4 half-sovereign—he wanted the voucher from me at the railway station, and said he would send it from there to Boulogne—I said, "I have left it at home"—I let him have £1, because he said he had no money, and then I let him have 10s. to get a coat out of pawn—on 6th of June, he sent for me to Ponsford's, and said, "I want to send the voucher away to get the money"—I went in and took the voucher, and he wrote on it and said, "Now you may see me send it off," and he wrote in a book; he said, "I have made it payable to you, and I saw him put the same piece of paper into the envelope, which I saw him write, and I walked across to the poet office with him, Harrow Green, Leytonstone—he handed it in there—I paid the fee, and got the receipt and kept it, and I believed it was the same letter into which I had seen him put something—I then gave him £2, in the belief that £42 was coming to me from J. Wallace, the commission agent at Boulogne—I saw the prisoner again on Saturday, June 7th, he could not pay Mr. Akinson the solicitor, and I let him have £2 more; he said, "I won't do you, you will have the cheque on Monday morning"—I believed that, and on Tuesday morning I got a telegram about 9.30.—the prisoner was there when it arrived and read it; this is it, "Mills, care of Dowle, butcher, Leytonstone; letter and cheque follow, Wallace, Anderton's Hotel"—he then said would I let him have £3, as he had got the brokers in—I did not let him have any more money—on the Wednesday morning, about 10 o'clock, I received this letter—I then consulted my solicitor, Mr. Sharman, and afterwards saw Detective Forth—I appeared at the Police-court, and gave evidence there.
Cross-examined. Sergeant Sumner took me and introduced me to Mr. Sharman—I have known the prisoner eight or nine months putting money on horses, to my misfortune—I win when I back my own fancy—I haw a regular bookmaker, not Mr. Hart, but I bet sometimes with Mr. Hart—I backed Sainfoin with Hart—I have given the prisoner money many times—I cannot read or write; I can only sign ray name—I gave the prisoner the second £2 for the purpose of instructing Mr. Atkinson, a solicitor, and I claim that he obtained it by false pretences; he obtained £2 likewise by false pretences; I did not say at the Police-court, "I want Atkinson to appear for Mills, and I will stand the cost," nor did I give him £2 for the purpose—I did not go to Mr. Atkinson's office about the time the £2 was lent—I know his office—I am positive I did not go there on the Thursday after the Derby—I did not swear before the Magistrate, "I did go to Atkinson's office, but not the day before the Derby, it was on the Thursday; I did say I wanted Atkinson to appear for Mills, but I will pay the cost"—I did not offer to pay the cost—he owes me about £28 over bets, and will not pay me; if he had I should not have prosecuted him—in the £281 include the half-winnings on Sainfoin, but not the £4 mentioned in the indictment; I had often given him money before, and I knew he was so hard up that his coat was in pawn, and he wanted money to pay the brokers—I say that the second £2 on Saturday was obtained by false pretences; Mills brought me a paper; I believe it was this notice (produced).
R-examined. He owed me £28, and the Ilex matter was part of it; he never disputed that—I backed Hex before the race was run, I believe—he did not deny that he owed me money on Ilex—if I had not seen the letter registered I should not have parted with any more money; I should
not have had any more to do with him—I saw Mr. Atkinson in the street; I had parted with the £2 then.
JOHN RUSSELL HAY . I am first-class examiner in the Return Letter Office, General Post Office—I produce a registered letter, marked Harrow Green office, posted there on the 4th June, and registered—it is registered, and addressed P.J. Wallis, Boulogne-sur-Mer, France—it came unopened, and I found in it these pieces of paper (produced) and nothing else—this is the receipt for that letter.
FRANK SHARMAN . I am a solicitor, of West Ham—I appeared before on both occasions, and saw the prisoner using notes—one was made on a portion of this engraving—I was sitting near him, in front—the dock is behind the solicitors' table—the paper on which he wrote fell in front of me, face downwards, revealing a portion of the engraving—it was a copy of the Builder of April 12th, and a portion of the same engraving is in the Dead Letter office envelope—during the hearing of the case I compared this portion with the portion which fell from Mills' hand, and found they corresponded, and the other piece of paper in the Dead Letter office envelope corresponds with another agreement in the Builder of the same date—I saw him writing on another portion of that engraving—he said time after time that he acknowledged sending the envelope containing the piece of paper, but he had no intention to defraud, and Mr. Dowle's proper action was to go to the County-court for the money—he called for a notice to produce, which he had written and served on, I think Mrs. Dowle, and commented on the writing of the notice to produce, which he said was in his own writing, and the letter in the name of Wallace, from Anderton's Hotel.
Cross-examined, I do not suppose the £28 lost by the prosecutor to the defendant in betting could be recovered civilly; the question of County-court was never raised from beginning to end.
Re-examined. Mr. James and a police officer brought Dowle to my office and said, "This gentleman wishes to see you"—I had nothing to do with securing Mr. Davis as a client.
WALTER PONSFORD . I am a coachbuilder—the prisoner wrote all that is in this book (produced)—I saw him actually write this entry of 14th May, respecting the repair of a barrow, and this other entry of 22nd May—this paper (produced) was brought by Mills, and I held it for a considerable time—I did not see him write it—that was a month or two before Sainfoin ran for the Derby—(Read: "Half voucher 18, 702, fourteen to two, Sainfoin to win, April 28th")—he was to have half for himself and half for Mr. Dowle—I went to the Derby, and saw Sainfoin win—Mills produced no voucher till the day after the Derby—I was at my place of business; Mills and Dowle were there—he said he was writing on that paper to send it off to France to get the money returned to Mr. Dowle; an envelope was written in my presence, separate from the voucher—he sealed it, and I believed he had put the voucher into the envelope—I did not go to the post office—Mills had the envelope when they left me, and they went away together—Dowle afterwards showed me the receipt for the registered letter—a week or two after that Mills said, "Mr. Dowle thinks himself
very tricky; little does he know that I have done him; he has not got it all his own way altogether; going to the post office, I rung the changes by sending an envelope and two pieces of blank paper in a registered letter"—I said, "That was a very great shame to a man who has been a friend to you"—he said let Dowle come to him; he was not going to Dowle; he said that £22 was coming to Dowle.
Cross-examined. That conversation was not in confidence—I did not say, "I will never repeat it; it will go in at one ear and out at the other"—he put that to me at the Police-court, and I said, "No"—he said, "It is not for me to go to Dowle, I have done him no wrong."
Re-examined. He said that he had two yellow envelopes, and rang the changes.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have seen the writing which hag been mentioned, and compared it with the notice to produce, and the envelope, which the prisoner admitted before the Magistrate were his writing; they are in the same hand, but one is written much better and in a more clerkly style—this envelope is in Mills' writing, and so is the address on the registered envelope—this envelope and letter are in the same writing, but slightly disguised; as he assumed another name, so he assumed another writing. (Read: "Mr. J. Dowle, butcher, Angel Lane, Stratford. Anderton's Hotel, June 10th, 1890.—Dear Sir,—I am in receipt of Mr. Mills' registered letter, together with voucher; he must be fully aware he is not entitled to the amount, as at the time of making the bet he was indebted to me £2, and I distinctly gave him to understand it would be no bet unless he remitted the £2; however, to save unpleasantness, if he will forward me a receipt for £20 I will send cheque for that amount. I am leaving for France this morning.—J. Wallace.")
MARY ELIZABETH BURTON . I am bookkeeper at Anderton's Hotel—it is my duty to record the names of persons sleeping there—this is my book (produced)—no person named Wallace slept there on the 9th or 10th of June.
Cross-examined. There is a smoking-room and a buffet where people can sit; there are no tables to write letters in the buffet, but there are in the smoking-room.
F. G. NETHERCLIFT (Re-examined). This original telegram from Ludgate Circus to Mills is in Mills' writing; he sent it to himself.(Read:"To Mills, care of Dowle, butcher, Angel Lane, Stratford, Essex. Letter and cheque follow.—Wallace, Anderton's Hotel.")
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that, as the prisoner was only committed for obtaining one sum of £2, and the second £2 had been added to the Indictment without leave of the COURT, that on the authority of Reg. v. Sewage the case should go to the JURY on one charge only. MR. BESLEY contended that the objection should have been taken when the prisoner was called upon to plead, and that the Statute warranted any number of misdemeanours being put into the Indictment, without leave of the COURT. MR. GEOGHEGAN further contended that the Second Count was not disclosed in the depositions, and, if the Prosecution filed a faulty Indictment, it was not for him to object before the time came. THE RECORDER quashed the Second Count.
GUILTY on the First Count only. He received a good character.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
GEORGE MARRIOTT . I am a greengrocer, of 18, Easton Road, Plaistow—on Wednesday, 27th August, about 9.30 a.m., the prisoner said, "George, will you let me have your cart? I shan't be no more than an hour"—I said, "Yes, go and get it"—he came back with the horse and cart, and said, "I shan't be no more than an hour if I sell the horse"—I did not see him again till Friday, 29th, when I met him by chance in St. Mary's Road—I said, "You have been a long hour with my cart"—he said, "Yes, George, I am ashamed to come and see you; I got with a company of a lot of them, and they got me drunk; I sold the cart for 22s., and I spent the money partly in drink"—he said he had sold the horse for 10s.—I told him I wanted the cart; he said I could get nothing out of nothing—I asked him to come round in the afternoon; he did not come—I asked him whether he had the cart; he had not, and I gave him into custody—I gave him no directions to sell the cart for me—I valued it at £2 5s., but it was worth more.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The horse was not mine—I did not ask you to try and sell my cart; I did not tell you its price was 50s.—I did not tell you that all over 45s. you could have for yourself—when you told me, on 29th, what you had done, you said you would pawn your clothes, and give me the money, £1 2s. 6d., and the rest 5s. a week, but I took no notice of that—I did not say to your landlady that if you did not give me 45s. I would charge you with stealing it—you said, "I walked thirty miles yesterday; I cannot find it"—I said I wanted it or the value of it—you said you could not help it; it was drunk in fourpenny ale—you did not drink it all—you only sold one pony for me, and I paid you for it—the man gave £3 10s. for the cart before I had it, and paid 9s. for a wheel.
Re-examined. Although I gave him no authority to sell, if he had reimbursed me I should have forgiven him; there is a gang of them who get a living out of it.
THOMAS BROOKS (Policeman K 256). Marriott called me on the 29th, and in the prisoner's presence said, "I shall give this man into custody for stealing my cart on Wednesday morning, 27th August"—I said to the prisoner, "You hear the charge"—he said, "Yes, I know I have done wrong"—I took him to the station—I have not been able to find the cart.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that the prosecutor told him to take the cart and sell it, and bring him back the money.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in June, 1884. — Judgment Respited.
MR. TYRRELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MANSEN BAIN . I live at 11, Royal Road, Custom House, and am a dock labourer—the prisoner took lodgings at my house, and remained till 14th July—I then missed a cap and waistcoat, which I had last seen on the morning of the 14th, in the lobby—I next saw them on
24th July, on the prisoner, whom I met in the Victoria Dock Road, at the Custom House Station—he was speaking to two men—I said, "Give an account of yourself"—he said, "Come on one side"—I said, "No; I want you to give up my property"—he asked me to come and have a drink at his expense—I gave him into custody—he was to pay us 15s. a week rent—he paid one week, and then he gave no notice, but left on the 14th, owing £2 5s.—he said he was a butcher on the P. and 0. steamer Coromandel—he borrowed a coat, but he gave that back.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You went with me and my son to Greenwich before the 14th—you were not wearing my cap, waistcoat, and coat then—I have your seaman's chest and a lot of clothes at my house.
CATHERINE BAIN . The prisoner lodged with us from 18th June till 14th July, sharing a bedroom—I lent him a coat about 20th June, because his own was greasy; I had that back—on the evening of 14th July I missed this waistcoat and cap from the passage at the entrance of the house—I had last seen them on the Sunday morning—I did not see the prisoner after breakfast on 14th July; he did not come back—he gave no notice that he was going he owed about £2 5s. rent—he paid one week in advance, and borrowed 5s. back—I next saw him at the Police-court—this cap and waistcoat are my husband's property—I gave the prisoner no authority to wear them, and did not know he had them—the lodgers hang their clothes in the lobby.
Cross-examined. I lent you nothing but the coat—I first met you in a public-house; you introduced yourself to my stepson, and said he worked in the same company—I lent you my husband's mackintosh to get a certificate for my boy for the School Board, when it was wet—the mackintosh was hanging in the passage for the lodgers; anybody can use it; I don't remember lending it to you.
GEORGE WOOLEY (Policeman K 497). On 24th July, about 10 p.m., Bain came to me at the Custom House Railway Station, where I was on duty, and I went with him to the prisoner, who was standing about three yards away—Bain said, "I charge this man with stealing a cap and vest, which he is wearing, and belonging to me"—I took the prisoner into custody and told him the charge; he said nothing—I took him to the station—the waistcoat and cap were identified by the prosecutor—the prisoner's coat was not buttoned, and you could see the waistcoat—when charged by the inspector at the station the prisoner said nothing.
Cross-examined. I have no recollection of your saying immediately you were charged that these things were lent to you—you asked for Mrs. Bain to be put into the witness-box at the Police-court.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that Mrs. Bain lent him the cap and waistcoat; that on the 13th there was a row, and she told him to go away, and that when he had money he could go and take the box and bag of clothes which he had left at her house.
CATHERINE BAIN (Re-examined). I did not tell him to go out—I have called the constable to come and look at the prisoner's chest and clothes, they are not worth 10s., and there is such a stench from them that I asked the constable to remove them; they are perfectly rotten.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILLES Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
THOMAS SAYER . I live at 60, Malta Road, Leyton, and am a draper—Mr. Hughes lives next door at No. 62—on 4th August, at twenty minutes to eleven, I heard a noise; I went outside and saw a light upstairs at No. 62, at Hughes's, and went to get assistance—when I came back, I saw the prisoner and another man come out of the front door—Mrs. Bolton was with me—I asked what they had been going in there for—they both said, "All right, old man, we are friends of the family," and walked briskly away—a neighbour blew a whistle; I followed them; as they turned the corner, I met Mr. Martin, and said something to him, and we both ran after them, Mr. Martin in front—we followed them into Water Road—we did not lose sight of them from the time they left Mr. Hughes's house—the prisoner ran into an empty garden in Park Place—a constable came up; we went into the garden and found the prisoner there; he is the man whom I saw come out of the house—I returned to Mr. Hughes's and found the house had been broken into—I knew Mr. Hughes was out of town; he asked me to keep an eye on the house.
Cross-examined. I was standing at my own gate when I saw the two men come out—they came out quickly, and went away as quickly as they could—I had never seen Davis before—they ran when they got into Manor Road after they heard the whistle—I was about fifteen yards behind them in the Malta Road—I began to run as soon as they ran—Martin took up the chase in Manor Road; he was between me and the men—the men could not run faster than me, or I could not have kept them in sight—I kept them in view when they turned the corner—there were no lamp-posts on the vacant ground which they crossed; it is not twice the size of this court—I lost sight of the other man in Park Place; I don't know which way he ran; I don't know if he ran into the empty house—the two had been running together.
MARY BOLTON . I am a widow living at Malta Road, Leyton—about twenty minutes to eleven on 4th August I came to my front door and shut the front gate—I noticed a light up stairs in Mr. Hughes's house—I knew he had left town—I saw Mr. Sayer, and while speaking to him I saw the prisoner with a shorter man come out of Mr. Hughes's house—Mr. Sayer said, "What are you doing there in that house?"—the prisoner said, "It is all right, old boy; I have come to look over the house; we are friends of the family"—the shorter one said, "It is all right"—the prisoner said, "You must have seen me before"—they walked away—I walked by the side of them a few doors down and asked for assistance—I have not the slightest doubt the prisoner is one of the men—I had seen him that afternoon from about three to half-past four, lying on the green in front of my and Mr. Hughes's houses.
Cross-examined. He has grown his beard since then—I did not notice the other man so much as this, and cannot say whether he had a beard
or moustache—I could not fix the other man if I saw him—I walked close to the two men for about four doors; they were walking then.
SIMON MARTIN . I live at 4, Daisy Villas, Manor Road, Leyton, and am a bamboo-worker—on Bank Holiday, about a quarter to eleven, I was in Manor Road; I heard a whistle within perhaps one hundred yards of Hughes's house—Malta Road runs out of Manor Road—I had just turned the corner when I heard some one saying they could not keep their shoes on—I turned round and saw Sayer, who made a communication to me, and pointed to two men in front of me—I ran after them—directly they heard my footsteps they ran also—I lost sight of the short one in Park Place, but I saw the prisoner enter a gateway, and I stood outside till a constable came up—then we went into the garden, and secured the prisoner behind a bush—he was taken back to 62, Malta Road, where Mr. Sayer and Mrs. Bolton identified him—he seemed rather surprised at being taken into custody—the constable went behind and pinned his arms, and he asked what it was for, and I said, "You know as well as we do"—he was taken to the police-station and charged.
Cross-examined. From the house in Malta Road to the house in Park Place, following the route they took, is about 600 yards, roughly—they ran together till they turned into Park Place—I cannot say which way the short man went—the garden of the empty house they went into has carriage gates—the doors were not open—there is a garden at the back; I don't know where it opens—I don't believe there is a road there—I believe all the houses there have gardens at the back—there is no way from the front to the back gardens that I know of except by going through the house—the constable came up almost directly, in a couple of seconds.
Re-examined. I have no doubt that is the man I followed from Manor Road.
CHARLES CROSSMAN (Policeman J 476). At a quarter to eleven on this night I was in Lammas Road, a turning out of the Malta Road—I heard a police whistle; I waited a few minutes, thinking to hear it again, as I could not tell where it came from—while waiting I saw the prisoner and a shorter man running along Capworth Road—I ran to the end of the road and saw Mr. Martin, who spoke to me—I followed him—he was a little a head of me—when we got to Park Place I saw him opposite the gate of a house—I went into the garden and found the prisoner behind a bush—I turned on my light—he was one of the men I saw in Capworth Road—I cautioned him not to run away, and took him into custody, and took him back to Malta Road, where the witnesses saw and directly identified him—I took him to the station—I went back and examined 62, Malta Road, and found the door had been forced open—I found the rooms upstairs in great disorder—I went over the ground the prisoner had run—I found this stick on a waste piece of ground—in the garden in Park Place, where I caught the prisoner, I found this coat, this chain, and this brooch—the house is unoccupied—this wedge was found on the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was standing behind a bush six feet high I should think—as I turned on my light he went to dodge round the bush—I caught hold of him—he was rather indignant at being taken into custody—when I saw the men in Capworth Road they were running
as hard as they could—I was in Lammas Road, which crosses the end of Capworth Road.
THOMAS STEVENSON HUGHES . I am a traveller, and live at 62, Malta Road, Leyton—on 1st August I left my house unoccupied to go into the country—I left the doors locked and fully secured; I went round the house before I left—on 5th August I returned in consequence of a telegram—I found the door had been forced with some blunt instrument like a jemmy, and the house was in complete disorder; drawers were scattered about, and boxes turned out—a policeman was in charge—I missed a quantity of jewellery, of the value of about £20—this coat and stick and brooch are mine; I left them safe in the house.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent."
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July,1888, at this Court in the name of William Jones. There was another indictment against the prisoner for burglary— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
719. STEPHEN NORRIS (37) PLEADED GUILTY to entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Guy Silk, and stealing a pint and a half of beer; also to a conviction of felony in November, 1884, in the name of George Bennett— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
720. WILLIAM RICHARDSON (19) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Cartwright, and stealing a pound of sweets, his property. There was another indictment against the prisoner.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
721. WILLIAM JOHNSON (46) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Cecil Martin, and stealing a pair of sugar tongs, and other articles— Twelve Month' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Mr. Justice Charlet,
MARGARET JACKS . I am the wife of Charles Thomas Jacks, of 21, Burnham Street, London Road—on Tuesday evening, 23rd June, I had been out, and got home about half-past twelve—I went to bed with my baby—about a quarter to two I heard a crash of glass; I went to the street door and opened it with my child in my arms, and there saw Mrs.
Girdle and the prisoner; no one else—there was another woman in the road; I could not see who she was—I asked Mrs. Girdle what she wanted—she said, "Now I have got you," and she struck me in the face with her fist, and got hold of my hair, and the prisoner came and struck me in the face with something he had in his hand; I did not see what it was—he commenced to kick me in the leg—the blow in the face cut me across the nose and injured the bone—I fell back on the stairs and became insensible, until my husband was by my side, bathing my face—he got a cab and took me to the hospital—I had never spoken to the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. He lived about a quarter of a mile from me—I passed by his house on this day—I did not see his wife—I saw someone on the steps, who made use of foul language to me—I could not see who it was—I had not done or said anything—I had been to a friend in the "Cut," and came home that way—I had seen them many a time before—I don't know how they came to do this, unless they were put on by somebody—I never had any row with Mrs. Girdle—when they used bad language I did not answer them back—the policeman says I did—I don't remember saying anything—Mrs. Girdle and I did not have any words in the earlier part of the day—she was not the only person who struck me—I did not strike the prisoner with a poker—I had not a poker with me—he came to my door and struck me in the face.
CHARLES THOMAS JACKS . I am a bottler of mineral waters; the last witness is my wife—I went to bed on this night about ten, my wife came in later—I was awoke by hearing her scream—I got up and went to the street door, and saw my wife sitting on the foot of the stairs, lying with her head back, her face covered with blood—I asked her what was the matter; she could not speak—I looked out at the door, and saw two women and the prisoner; he said, "If you come out here, you b—, I will smash your face"—he had three or four bricks in his arms; he threw a brick, it caught the side of the door; I shut the door—I was in my shirt—I went upstairs to the window, and when I came down they were gone—I picked up the brick he threw; it was produced at Mrs. Girdle's trial—I had never spoken to the prisoner or his wife, I only knew her by sight.
Cross-examined. When I came home at ten, I went to bed at once—the child who is dead was about five weeks old—my wife was at home when I went to bed; she said she was going out to see her sister, and she took the baby with her; that was about half-past ten—I was asleep when she came back—she had the key of the door—I took no part in this row, except to support my wife—the best part of it was over when the prisoner said this to me; he threw the brick at me, only I shut the door, and that prevented it hitting me—he stood at the edge of the kerb about half a yard from the door; the door was about three parts open—this (produced) is the piece of brick he threw—the staircase faces the door—I came out from the downstairs room.
ELIZABETH STACEY . I live at 22, Burnham Street—on this night I was awoke by hearing a window broken; afterwards I heard screaming—when I got up, I found the baby at the foot of the stairs, and Mrs. Jacks lying back against the stairs, bleeding—I did not see anybody there—I picked the baby up and went upstairs—I picked up this brick
on the door-mat next morning—I had seen it when I came out of my bedroom.
FREDERICK GRAY (Detective Sergeant L). About half-past ten on 4th August, in company with another officer, I arrested the prisoner in a public-house in Blackfriars Road—I said, "We are police officers, we are going to arrest you for being concerned with your wife for assault and manslaughter"—he said, "All right, I would sooner do two years than she should do nine months; it is killing her"—at the station the charge was read over to him—he said, "I admit I was there, but I done nothing; when I went home my wife was out; my boy said, "Mrs. Jacks has been round here rowing with mother, and mother has gone to row with her; all I did was to go to Burnham Street and fetch her away."
Cross-examined. I told Mrs. Girdle I had a warrant for her husband's arrest, and she made a statement to me.
Witness for the Defence.
ADA GIRDLE . I am sister-in-law to the prisoner, and live at 21, Charles Street—my husband is a cab driver—on Tuesday, 24th June, I and Mrs. Girdle went to Mrs. Jacks's house—the prisoner was not with us—I had seen Mrs. Jacks before that—before the public-house closed she came round there and called Mrs. Girdle a dirty wh—; a constable moved them on—we then went to Mrs. Jacks's house, and there was a row—Mrs. Jacks struck Mrs. Girdle in the face first—the prisoner came up just as the quarrel had finished—he took no part in it—it was Mrs. Girdle that threw the piece of brick to protect herself; the prisoner pulled her away, and told her to come home, and they went home together.
Cross-examined. We went to Mrs. Jacks's house to ask her what she meant by kicking up a row—that was about 1 o'clock, it might have been later—I was not called on the previous trial—Mrs. Jacks had a poker in her hand—the prisoner had nothing—I only saw one brick thrown—I went with Mrs. Girdle, because she asked me—no window was broken; the shutter was up—I will swear no window was broken; if there was, it was not by the prisoner or me—Mrs. Jacks's sister held the baby—she had four or five persons with her.
GUILTY of a common assault. — Three Month' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. GILL and ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT Defended, EDWIN JOHN HIGGS. I am thirteen years old—the prisoner is my mother—we lived in Valentine Street, Wandsworth—the deceased, Frank Ernest Higgs, was my brother; he was about five months old—I have one sister older than myself, the baby came after me—on 7th July I went to school, leaving mother and the baby alone in the house—we had a zinc bath, which I think was outside the house when I went out—there was also a small zinc bath kept in the scullery—I came home about a quarter to one—I knocked at the door, but got no answer—I went through the next door, Mrs. Harlow's, got over the fence, and went up to the back parlour window, and looked in—I saw the small zinc bath with
some water in it, and the baby in it on its back—the water came up to the corner of its mouth and its head was against the side—there was no one in the room—I went back to Mrs. Harlow, and called her, and she came round with me—she went into the scullery, called me, and I went in and saw her pulling mother out of the water in the big bath—she was in a kneeling position—her head and arms were wet—I then went into the parlour, and Mrs. Berryman came—I lifted the baby up in a sitting position—I thought it was dead—mother used to wash the baby in that room, the back parlour—it was quite naked, there was a towel on a chair, and some soap near the bath—the water was soapy and warm—I ran for a doctor close by, and he came—I had noticed my mother's manner for some time before this; she was very strange, different to what she used to be; she would catch hold of me sometimes, as if she was falling; she was never cheerful, always downhearted—she was very fond of the baby.
Cross-examined. She was always very kind to me, and a good mother—the position of the baby was as if it had slipped down—there was some water in its mouth—the water had the appearance as if the baby had been washed.
MARY ANN HARLOW . I live at 26, Valentine Street, next door to the prisoner—on 7th July, about five minutes to one, the last witness came and spoke to me and got over the fence, and I followed him into the next house—in the scullery I found the prisonor on her knees, with her arms and face in the water of a large zinc bath; she was quite dressed—I immediately pulled her out and said, "Oh dear! what have you done?"—she made no answer—Mrs. Berryman, a neighbour, came in—I took the prisoner into the back parlour, and there saw the baby in a small bath, in a sitting position in the water—the prisoner seemed quite unconscious—she did not seem to know what I said to her; I never heard her speak—we lifted her between us—her husband took her upstairs—I had known her about nine weeks.
Cross-examined. I always found her a kind-hearted, affectionate woman—she seemed very fond of her baby—she always seemed very depressed, and very anxious about her baby.
GEORGE HENRY CHARLESWORTH . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 23, North Street, Wandsworth—I have known the prisoner about seven years—I attended her in her last confinement; she had not had a child for about 13 years—her husband is a builder or carpenter—she got through her confinement very well; there was no puerperal disturbance—the child was a very fine baby—before its birth the prisoner was in very good health, except that she had a skin disease, about which she consulted me two or three times—some weeks after the birth of the child I noticed that she was very depressed, and anxious about her child—she suckled it—I thought it best that she should wean it, considering her depression and weakness—she did so—but she seemed to think the effect would be to cause it to waste away—I saw her at the surgery several times afterwards concerning herself—she always appeared depressed and anxious about the child when there was no necessity for it—the child was born on 17th January—I saw the child up to the Monday before this happened, and spoke to the father about it—I thought it was suffering from the commencement of tubercular meningitis, that is practically consumption, only it affects the brain; it ultimately
causes wasting—I saw the mother and child on the Sunday—she was then very depressed and anxious about the child—on the Monday, about a quarter to one, I was called to the house—I saw the child on Mrs. Berryman's knee; it had been dead some time—I afterwards saw the prisoner in bed partly dressed—her expression was vacant; she did not appear to understand any question I put to her—this was two or three weeks after she had weaned the child—after a time I asked her what she had done with the child—she said, "I have killed it, because I could not bear to see it waste away"—it was a little wasted, but it really was a very fine child at the time of its death; rather abnormally large, very well developed, and very well nourished—I made a post-mortem examination—there was no mark of violence upon it of any kind; it had undoubtedly died of drowning, although there were signs of tubercular meningitis, but not sufficient at that period to have caused death—it was certainly alive when it got into the water.
Cross-examined. The prisoner always appeared very anxious about the child, even before I advised the weaning, she suffered in health from nourishing it—she was very reluctant to wean it—she afterwards said she thought its state was due to her weaning it, she called herself unnatural—she was depressed to an extraordinary degree—I saw her nearly every day during the last eight days—during the whole of that time her manner was very strange—I formed the conclusion when I saw her on the day of the child's death, that she was suffering from melancholia, and that she was not responsible for her actions on that day—she was a very affectionate mother; a woman of a very affectionate disposition.
By the COURT. In my judgment she was not conscious that she was doing a wrong act; she appeared to have lucid intervals.
EDWARD SHAW (Police Inspector V). I arrested the prisoner at the infirmary on the morning of 8th July—I told her that I should have to charge her with killing her child by drowning, and also with attempting to commit suicide—she made no answer; she appeared not to understand what I said to her—on the 7th I went to the house and saw the baths; in the small one there was about three or four gallons of water, the large bath was three parts full.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of H.M. Prison, Holloway—I have had the prisoner under observation from the time she came there—I thought she was of unsound mind, suffering from melancholia—she was intensely depressed, with great difficulty made to understand any question, and when she did reply it was in a very rambling, incoherent way—she had all the ways of a person suffering from melancholia—she has been in the hospital ever since—all I have seen has strengthened my impression—she is much better now.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FILLAN Prosecuted; MR. GILL appeared for Conway, and MR. BOXALL for Sadler.
COUNSEL for the prisoners applied that they might be tried separately, so that one of them might be in a position to give evidence. MR. JUSTICE CHARLES was not aware of any authority to justify such a course, this was a joint charge to do a particular thing, and, having read the depositions, he could not accede to the application.
RUTH ANNIE MARION FIRMIN . I am the wife of Arthur Firmin, and have resided at 3, Honeywell Road, Wandsworth Common, for nine years—on 16th January this year Mrs. Conway came to reside at No. 1, next door—I had been on terms of intimacy with the previous occupier of that house for seven years—Mrs. Conway first wrote to me about erecting a wall—the gardens were separated by a wooden fence, and she wrote asking if I had any objection to a wall being erected; at the same time she complained that a little pet monkey of mine had picked off some leaves—I gave permission, and the wall was erected, and some trellis—we were on friendly terms with her up to the first week in June—my husband then wished me not to be so—after that Mrs. Conway's conduct and language was most abusive over the wall, and she accused me of behaving indecently to the tiny monkey—that occurred continually; I could never go into the garden without being annoyed in some way—she never called me anything else but a dirty, filthy bitch—numbers of men used to frequent her place—I was ill for four weeks before this occurrence; I had a nervous shock principally owing to this system; I was attended all that time; I do not know anything about the conviction at the Police-court; I was in bed at the time; it was for abusing my son in the street—my monkey died on 9th August from strychnine on Sunday, 17th August, I came down from my room, and rested in the garden for an hour, and on Monday I came down about half-past four and went into the garden—I had seen the two prisoners in the garden before I left my room—between half-past four and five I was in the garden, leaning forward to pull over some of my beans into the arbour; I had my hands up above my head when I suddenly felt something come on my forehead, first of all two drops; I dropped the piece of string that I was using, and I was in the act of catching hold of the girl's shoulder, and I distinctly heard a slight noise, and felt something coming on my forehead—I made an exclamation to myself, and 1 heard them both laughing loudly—I knew their laugh perfectly well—I immediately went into the scullery; there was a large pan of water there, and I washed it off; it was burning intensely—previous to that I called the attention of my servant and Mrs. Kersley, a laundress, to see what it was; I said, "Oh, it has burnt me!"—they both came forward and looked, and said it was a whitish fluid—the burning did not subside; I called Margaret to fetch my hat, and I went straight down to Mr. James, the chemist, leaning on one of my little boys, for I was very weak—he looked at it, but did nothing; he advised me to go and see my doctor at once—I did not go to my own doctor, because he had visited me in the morning, and told me he should not be in—Dr. Hefferman came in the evening, after my husband arrived—I have still the marks on my forehead (pointing them out); the doctor has been attending me for it; it has affected me very much; I was in bed
for two days afterwards—I am really afraid, because the prisoner has promised to shoot us all; my life is in danger.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The application about building the wall was made to my husband; we paid nothing towards it—this letter of 7th June was written by my husband. (Giving his consent to the wall being built)—I don't know the height of the wall—on 14th July my husband received this letter from Mrs. Conway (read); that was answered on July 15th by my husband, and on the 18th this letter came. (These letters were read)—after that my husband communicated with Mr. Johnson—I did not see him; I know his wife better than him—he is no connection of mine—I had not spoken to Mrs. Conway about him that I know of; I never spoke to her about my husband getting his discharge from bankruptcy—I know he has got his discharge—after I came downstairs I heard of an action for libel and slander against Mrs. Conway—she said I had followed her trustee about; I never had; I certainly met him several times—I swore an information before a Magistrate about this occurrence; I complained of the abuse—I went into the garden between half-past four and five; I was inside the arbour; my servant was close beside me—I was pulling my beans from the wall; they had not grown so high as the trellis-work; a Virginia creeper was on the top of the trellis-work. (A number of photographs were produced, and the witness pointed out upon them the position in which she stood)—I had nothing in my hands that I know of; I had been using a towel, which I had thrown over my shoulder—I gave a description before the Magistrate of tins—I don't know that I have ever stated before to-day about the sound I heard—I did not wipe the stuff off with the towel—I called the witnesses to see what had happened; I said, "What is that?"—I felt a burning pain, and said, "Will you come and see what she has thrown at me?"—I wanted witnesses at once; I did not leave it there in order that they might see it; Margaret was on the spot, and Mrs. Kersley was at the scullery door; of course I wished them to see it—I don't know that that was the reason why I did not wipe it off; the whole thing did not take a minute—I wished them to be convinced that there was something on my forehead, because she had been very rude before—I had not seen Mrs. Conway, but I knew she was there—I said, "See what this horrid woman has done; she has either burnt or poisoned me"—I can't say that I walked to the scullery without touching my forehead; I believe I did put up a handkerchief in the first place, and then went in and washed it on—I can't tell you where the handkerchief or cloth is; it was left in the water, I suppose—I never thought about it; I was only too anxious to get to the chemist's—I believe I put one or other to my face, because I thought it might be my eyes; I thought it was intended for that—I did not wipe it off—I put it up to my face till I got to the water—I have not looked for it; it never occurred to me that it might have a mark on it; it was never suggested to me—I believe I left it in the water—I did not go or send for the police; it was as much as I could do to get to the chemist's—there was no blister on my forehead at that time; afterwards in the evening it came out in little tiny pin's heads all over; it was very much inflamed when the chemist saw it; very red—I went to ask him what it was, and what I should do to it—I told him I had washed it off, and I told the doctor so—I did not tell him I had used a handkerchief or
towel—he asked to see my dress; not the towel—the dress was examined to see if there was any mark on it—I did not touch my forehead with my hands, only with the towel—some of the burning stuff would have gone on the towel—it was some time after nine when the doctor came—I felt one drop first of all, and the others followed almost immediately after; I can't tell how many, three or four—I found no mark on my dress, or on my hair—I did not look about in the arbour for any marks then or afterwards—I believe I was in bed the whole of Tuesday—my husband communicated with Mr. Johnson on Tuesday—I never complained to the police at all, my husband did; I don't know when—I saw Mr. Johnson on Wednesday—he took down what I said, and on Thursday I went to the Police-court with my servant and a friend in a cab—I heard both the prisoners laughing—I spoke so that I could be heard—I did not hear anything said—I believe I went into the garden afterwards, when I came back from the chemist's; I simply went to see where I had been standing, to see how she could push it through—I could not say what time that was; it was not six, because when I came down from the window, where I saw Sadler wiping the wall, it was not six—I don't think I went into the garden after that; my servant was with me then and my little boy; I did not hear anything said—I believe in the first account I gave I did say that Conway said to Sadler, "If she chooses to throw burning stuff on her own face, and then say we did it, that is her look out; I know the law as well as she does"—I had quite forgotten that—those are the words she used—I have not been on the stage only as an amateur—I have been paid for it; the principals are always paid—in the first account I gave I did not say that Mrs. Kersley and Margaret saw the fluid on my face and wiped it off, that is a mistake; it ought to be, "and I wiped it off"—Conway said, "If you do this to your face you must take the consequences"—she said that directly afterwards—I did not say that I saw Sadler wiping the trelliswork; I said, "Wiping the wall"—I don't know what she was wiping—I know that a piece of the trellis was cut out after this.
Cross-examined by MR. BOXALL. Sadler came into Mrs. Conway's service at the end of June—I had no bonnet on when I went into the garden the first time; no drops fell on my head or hands, or on my dress.
MARGARET BARRY . I have been servant to Mr. and Mrs. Firmin three years—I remember Mrs. Conway coming to live at No. 1—they were friendly at first, afterwards they became unfriendly—I heard Mrs. Conway say many dreadful things, have I got to repeat them?—two or three times she called Mrs. Firmin a filthy bitch—I remember the monkey dying—my mistress had been ill for nearly five weeks previous to the 18th August; she came down for a little while on the Sunday—on the Monday she came down in the morning and stayed a little while; after dinner she went to lie down, and about four she came down again; she came in the kitchen to me between half-past four and five, she went into the arbour to tie up her beans—she had tied one bean, and had just got the string to tie another, she dropped it, and I was in the act of stooping to pick it up, when she caught hold of me and said, "Oh, Margaret, that horrid woman has either burnt or poisoned me!"—I looked up, and saw something white, like a milky fluid, just one drop over her eyes, and as I looked up at her I saw two or three more drops come through the trellis-work—I saw the fluid—I did not hear it just then—it all went on
her forehead—that was all I saw—some might have gone on the ground—I did not hear the prisoners laugh then, but when my mistress called Mrs. Kersley to witness it on her face I heard both the prisoners laugh—shortly after, when mistress went down to the chemist's, I went up to the bath-room window looking into the Conway's garden, and I then heard Mrs. Conway say to her servant, "Oh, I can't help it; if she throws stuff on her own face I can't be blamed for it"—my mistress had not mentioned her face, when she said, "That horrid woman has burnt me"—I had not noticed them in the garden before this.
Cross-examined. It was my mistress saying, "That horrid woman has either burnt or poisoned me," that made me look up, and then I saw one drop on her forehead; it was white—I think she had a handkerchief in her hand at the time; I don't know exactly, because it was all done in a hurry, and we were all so confused—I saw three drops come on her forehead, they seemed to come together—my mistress called the charwoman, so that she should see what was on her face; she said, "Come, Mrs. Kersley, you can be a witness to what is on my face"—I suppose she left it there so that the charwoman should see it, she saw it on her face; she came from the scullery—my mistress did not put up her hand and wipe it till Mrs. Kersley saw it; and Mrs. Kersley said, "Come and rinse it off"—I don't know where the handkerchief is; it was washed, I suppose—she sluiced the water up with the handkerchief and left it in the water—I did not tell the inspector that after this occurred I saw Mrs. Conway and the servant in the act of wiping a syringe—I said I thought it came through a syringe; that was how I used the word syringe—it was while I was in the bath-room by myself that I heard Mrs. Conway say she could not help it if mistress threw the stuff on herself—mistress had gone to the chemist's at that time—I saw Sadler wiping the trellis about six on Monday evening; she was doing it with a kind of cloth like a duster, wiping the bottom of the trellis and the top of the wall, about the spot where the stuff came through.
ELIZA KERSLEY . I am married—I am a charwoman—I was washing at Mrs. Firmin's on this day—about half-past four she called me, I ran out to her in the arbour and saw some liquid on her face in spots, they were dirty; it was not clean water; she came through into the scullery, and wiped or rather washed it off.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. She said to me, "Mrs. Kersley, come and see what this horrid woman has done; she has either burnt or scalded me"—I heard Mrs. Conway laugh, and the servant; and I heard Mrs. Conway said, "If people like to throw burning stuff on them I can't help it"—that was said at the time it was done—Mrs. Firmin had a towel in her hand—she wiped it off, first with a towel or hand-kerchief, then washed it—I washed it with the rest of the things, it was not given to me; Mrs. Firmin threw it in as she went through, and I washed it.
BESSIE CURRY . I reside at 33, Falkland Road—I was visiting my friend Miss Coles, at 41, Bolingbroke Grove, Wandsworth Common, which overlooks Mrs. Conway's garden—I am no relation to the prosecutrix—I was looking out of a window about half-past four, and saw Mrs. Conway and her servant in their garden; the servant was standing on a chair picking the ends of Mrs. Firmin's beans, and throwing
them over into Mrs. Firmin's garden—they were not using a garden hose—about half-past seven in the evening I called on Mrs. Firmin—I saw some marks and little blisters on her forehead.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. It was between half-past four and five when I was looking out of the window; for about ten minutes—I saw Mrs. Firmin in her garden, part of that time; I could just see her under the arbour.
MARGARET BARRY (Recalled by the COURT). After this happened I went up into my bedroom; I was in the bath-room and bedroom both—while there I did not notice anything in Mrs. Conway's garden—I was examined before the Magistrate—I had forgotten—I heard Mrs. Conway say to Sadler, "Bring a chair," and she brought a chair to the trelliswork, where I thought the stuff came over—she said that our beans were growing through the trellis-work, and she said, "Push them through"—the girl said she could not get her hand through—she turned to a little table with some scissors on it, and she said, "Cut them off and throw them over; let them die."
AMY COLES . I live at 40, Bolingbroke Grove, which is at right angles with Honeywell Road—the back of the house overlooks Mrs. Conway's garden—on 18th August, between half-past four and five, I was in a room at the top of the house with Miss Curry; I saw Mrs. Conway and the servant in the garden, the servant was standing on a chair picking off the ends of Mrs. Firmin's beans, and throwing them over the wall—I did not see any garden hose there; I think I must have seen it if it had been there—they did not seem to be watering anything.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I saw Mrs. Firmin in her garden by the arbour doing something to the beans.
KIRBY JAMES . I am a chemist, of 9, Swaby Road, "Wandsworth Common—on 18th August, between four and five, Mrs. Firmin called on me in a very excited nervous condition—there was an inflamed part on her face about the size of a half-crown, on the forehead, and a mark on the neck, not so large, of a similar character—it might be caused by a corrosive fluid of some kind—I advised her to go to a doctor.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. She told me that something had been thrown over her, she was afraid some stuff had gone on her, and she thought it might poison her—any irritant would cause the mark; a corrosive fluid would—I did not ask to see any cloth or handkerchief with which it had been wiped off.
Cross-examined by MR. BOXALL. The mark was of a red colour, inflamed—acids of a particular kind cause a particular mark—there was no colour, it was inflamed—the blisters had not risen then.
Re-examined. I don't think that in the ordinary course a blister would have risen, even in ten minutes.
WILLIAM HILTON HEFFERMAN , M.R.C.S. I live on Wandsworth Common—I had been attending Mrs. Firmin for about five or six weeks before the 18th August—when I first saw her she was suffering from extreme nervous prostration, with vomiting; very bad, indeed—on 18th August I called on her between eight and nine—I had called in the morning, and told her I was going out—I had a very busy day, and did not get in till about nine; then I called there—I saw that she had two circular marks on the left side of the forehead, about an inch above the
left eye—those marks were red, with what we call blister; the upper part of the skin was raised from inflammation, and there was a collection of serum underneath the blister; the ordinary appearance of any damaged skin of a burn or scar; it must have been undoubtedly caused by an irritant; she was suffering—there was a little red spot lower down, not larger than a threepenny piece, possibly caused by the same thing; what really did hurt was on the forehead just above the eye—I treated her for it—I knew very well that this matter would come before the Court—I had heard what she said had occurred, and I purposely left the case entirely to nature; a little cold water or vaseline was put on—I did not treat it with any lotion that might be supposed to irritate it, as that might be a point raised; I simply left it; I knew the case would do well; it was not bad enough that one should interfere a great deal with it.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I have had the case of a mark produced by a corrosive fluid—the mark depends on the extent and the time it is left on the skin; if it destroys the skin it would destroy all trace of any colour—I should look for it, but should not be disappointed if I did not see it; I saw more than the red mark, I saw the blister; it was simply a red mark with a blister—I asked to see the cloth or handkerchief; it was not shown to me—I should not expect, whatever the irritant was, that it would be applied for some little time.
Cross-examined by MR. BOXALL. Nitric acid would leave a yellow stain; sulphuric acid is supposed to leave a brown stain—I have seen sulphuric acid applied to the hands—I cannot say that it produces an unmistakable brown mark; on the hard cuticle it would not; it would not produce a dark brown colour on the forehead—a strong corrosive fluid, if left on, would entirely destroy the skin, and then you could not tell the nature of the fluid—I am not going so far as to say this was an acid; it was a corrosive fluid, but I do not think it was an acid; it was a violent irritant—I looked at the dress, but saw nothing; I did not look at the trellis or the leaves; it was dark; I had no opportunity—caustic, although a very powerful alkali, will have the same effect on the skin as a powerful acid—it must undoubtedly have been a powerful irritant—an acid rapidly applied and quickly removed would produce a blister like that she had—there need not be a continued application of a corrosive fluid to raise a blister; any powerful irritant or alkali would do it—I have never tried American potash; I have seen the effects of it on the eye, not on the skin.
ARTHUR FIRMIN . I am manager of one of the departments of Firmin and Son, Limited, Strand—I have lived at 3, Honeywell Road, about nine years—for some time after Airs. Conway came to live next door my wife had been friendly with her—from what I afterwards told my wife they ceased to be friendly—in consequence of her insulting one of my children on 6th August, I got a summons against her—on the 8th our monkey died, the same night that she accepted service of a writ for libel; on Friday night it was poisoned—the libel was in respect of the letter accusing my wife of lying and stealing—the monkey was poisoned on the night of the 8th; we found it dying when we came from the Police-court, on the hearing of the summons, and it lingered till Sunday morning at six—I was present at the Police-Court when the summons was heard; but I was not in the Court, I was ordered out—she was fined twenty shillings or fourteen days, and costs; that was on the
following Friday, the 15th—on the 18th I left home for business at half-past eight, leaving my wife in much better health and much brighter—on returning in the evening, from information from one of my children I went up to the bedroom, and found her lying prostrate on the bed, thoroughly depressed and very low, and on her face I saw two reddish blistering wounds over the left eye, little blisters were just rising—neither my wife nor any of my people have done anything to annoy Mrs. Conway—on 4th August, Bank Holiday, about ten o'clock, I heard her threaten to shoot my wife; my wife was then ill in bed, I was nursing her—there was a disturbance on Friday, the 1st, and I wrote to Mrs. Conway on the Saturday, on my wife's entreaty, to beg her to be quiet, and have some consideration for her, and the only reply I received was an abusive one-three letters were exchanged that day; I sent my letter in by one of my boys, and this was the answer. (One of those already put in)—I call that an abusive letter.
WALTER COUSINS (Police Inspector, examined by MR. GILL). I took the charge in this case—I saw Mr. Firmin and the servant, not Mrs. Firmin—I said to the servant, "Immediately after this stuff was thrown on your mistress, did you see anything?"—she said she saw Mrs. Conway and the servant, and the servant was in the act of wiping a syringe. By MR. FILLAN. She did not say, "It must have been done with a syringe"—the officer who took the charge was present at the time.
Witnesses for the Defence.
"WILLIAM HAMMOND . I am a builder, of 72, York Road, Battersea—the wall in the garden between the houses of Mr. Firmin and Mrs. Conway is five feet six inches high, and there is a trellis of one and a half feet—After this occurrence I was sent for, and on 22nd I went to No. 1 and carefully examined the whole of the trellis-work on both sides—there was no trace whatever of any mark of any fluid of any kind—I took out a panel of the trellis-work and produce it—I have made experiments as to whether acid on paint will leave a mark; it does—I tried it on green paint, the same as this, with vitriol and muriatic acid, also with carbolic acid, and I found the discolouration was a yellowish brown—this is the piece directly in front of the arbour; on Mrs. Conway's side it is green, on Mr. Finhin'8 side it is a lead colour—I examined the creepers there as far as I could reach over—I found no traces of discolouration of the leaves.
JOHN COOPER (Detective). After I had conveyed the prisoner to the station I examined the trellis-work and the creepers on Mrs. Conway's side, to see if there were any marks—I could not find any—I seashed the house from top to bottom, to see if I could find any acid or any syringe; I could not find any—I had heard Mrs. Firmin's servant say that she saw the servant wiping a syringe; it was after that that I made the search.
Cross-examined. She also said, about a quarter of an hour afterwards, that she saw her wiping the trellis work as well.
GEORGE EMBER SON . I am a photographer at Chertsey—I took four photographs of these premises, No. 1, from the opposite side of Mrs. Conway's garden, showing the wall and Mrs. Conway standing in the garden—I have some knowledge of acids and alkalis—almost all corrosive acids will make marks on paint—an alkali would neutralise it to an extent, but still it would show on paint—ammonia would mark paint; I could not tell whether ammonia itself would do so, or an alkali; in combination with acid it would
—in some cases the mark would wear off within a quarter of an hour; if it was concentrated acid it would last some time.
ROBERT LEE , M.D. and F.R.C.P. I am lecturer on forensic medicine—I have been in practice since 1865 in Savile Row—I have been in court, and heard Mr. Hefferman's evidence—a blister may be raised in a few seconds, minutes, or hours, it depends entirely upon the agent, a very strong escoretic will do it in a few seconds, in a few minutes if weaker, and in a few hours if quite weak; but the agent must be applied continuously before the blister rises, and if removed at any distance of time the effect ceases—if the solution is very strong it destroys the skin, then a blister will not rise, because the cuticle is destroyed—as far as the evidence here goes it was removed in a very few seconds, and as there was only redness there was no possibility of a blister forming; it could not form from that cause—the blister was there, but not from the action of any solution; it must have come from some other cause—a strong acid thrown on the forehead and wiped off would cause discolouration of the skin, and there would be an end of it, no blister would follow—carbolic acid to cause a blister must be kept on continuously; if you put it on your hands and wash it off, nothing follows—vitriol destroys the skin; the colour of vitriol is very marked—nitric and all those acids are very marked—hot water would do it, if kept on long enough.
Cross-examined. A very strong acid will not destroy the skin immediately—carbolic-acid left on for fifteen seconds or half a minute, and wiped off, will leave redness, but no blister; you would have to leave it on a minute, a minute and a half, or two minutes—if you wash away the agent you have done with it—vitriol would not do it, if washed off soon; it would leave a discolouration, which would produce a sore, that is not a blister.
By the COURT. Assuming that something in the nature of a corrosive fluid was flung and rested on the body for an appreciable time, and then washed off, a blister would not rise; the state of the skin would remain the same.
Sadler received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
729. WILLIAM FRANCIS (47) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Dick, and stealing a clock and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in January, 1888, at this Court.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
730. FRANCIS CHARLES COLLIS (17) to stealing a quantity of tobacco and other articles in the dwelling-house of John McCavin, and afterwards breaking out; also to stealing money, the property of John McCavin. Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
732. JOHN GABIN (60), JOSEPH PARKS (25), JAMES VAUGHAN (33), and RICHARD REYNOLDS (50) were again indicted (See page 1040), with JAMES KELLY (21), for stealing an iron trunk containing books, clothes, and other articles, the property of William Arthur Harrison.
MR. H. AVORY and MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MR. TURRELL appeared for Vaughan, and MR. PURCELL for Kelly.
WILLIAM ARTHUR HARRISON . I am assistant to William Daft, a chemist, of 38, Southampton Street, Strand—the shop is on the ground floor—I occupy one of the two front bedrooms at the top—on 12th July, I had this trunk (produced) with some books in it—these are five of the books—I saw it safe on 12th July, about 11.0 a.m., and missed it at 8.30 p.m.—there were also some clothes in it—other boxes had been opened, but nothing else taken—my door was closed, but not fastened.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. My name is written in two of the books.—I bought the Algebra in Chester; my name is not in that.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective L). On 21st July, I went with Cox and Kamber to 74, Webber Road, about 6.45 a.m., and knocked at the door of the first floor front room—someone said, "Who is there?"—I said, "Police, open the door"—Kamber went down stairs, and Cox and I forced the door open and saw the prisoner Reynolds sitting on the bed, and Jane Reynolds, who has been discharged, dressed, and a lad named Orme getting out of the window—I told the prisoners I should arrest them for several burglaries—Reynolds said, "What do you mean?"; the woman said, "A nice thing you have done for me through living with you"—I took them to the station—I afterwards searched the room, and found a quantity of things identified by six different persons, and this tin box and a revolver, which Cox took to the station, which was shown to Reynolds, who said, "A b—y good job it was not loaded, or I should have shot you all as you came upstairs"—I went to 124, Cornwall Road, Lambeth, to the back room, and saw Vaughan and Park on a bed, partly undressed, and Gabin sitting by the side of the bed apparently asleep—I roused them and told them I should take them for being concerned with others in custody in committing burglaries in various parts of the metropolis, and asked who the room belonged to; no one answered—I asked again at the station, and Vaughan said, "I engaged the room"—we went back and found a quantity of property, which has been identified as the proceeds of six burglaries—the prisoners were charged on suspicion of stealing the property—Reynolds said, "You can only charge me with unlawful possession"—Vaughan and Parks said, "You ought to charge us with unlawfully receiving"—the charge was read, and they made no reply—I first saw Kelly on 24th July, in Coral Street—he turned to avoid me—I walked towards him, and he entered the house No. 34—I knocked at the door with Kamber—the landlady opened it—we went to the first floor front room, and saw Kelly and a woman—I said we were police officers, and should take him in custody—I found these five books there, and asked him what account he could give of them—he said he bought them at a stall—I asked what stall—he made no reply—I said that he would be charged with stealing them—I served a copy of this notice on Kelly.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The books were in view of anybody who went into the room.
ALFRED KAMBER (Detective L). I was with Nicholls when the property was found, and heard what was said at the station—I went to 124, Cornwall Road, and saw Vaughan, Parks, and Gabin there—I assisted in searching that room.
Waterloo Road—Kelly occupied our first-floor front room with his wife in the name of Moran from May 22nd, and was arrested there on July 24th.
Cross-examined by MR. TURRELL. I live on the ground floor, and do not often go out; if anyone went through I very often might not see them.
HENRY SUMNER DANIELS . I occupied two rooms at 28, Craven Street, Strand, up to 24th June—on Saturday, 21st June, I went out about 11.30 p.m., and closed the door after me—I returned on Monday about 6.30—the room had been entered, and I missed a quantity of property—I find here three sheets, three handkerchiefs, and a pawnticket for a pair of boots; they are my property.
GEORGE PALMER SMEDLEY . My employer, Mr. Waldron, occupies offices at 16, Craven Court, Strand—on a Saturday in July I left at 5.30—I returned on Monday morning about 10.30, and the street door had been broken open—I missed a Gladstone bag and other articles—I have seen a collar since.
MARTHA KELLER . I manage a fur-shop for my sister, Mrs. Vass, 6, Adelaide Street, Strand—on July 9th I shut up the shop at 9 p.m., and next morning when I came I found it broken open, and missed a lot of things—I identify these articles (produced).
SIMON ROSENBERG . I am a hair-dresser, of 4, Panton Street, Haymarket—on the night of 8th July I locked up my shop, and on the morning of the 10th found it broken open, and missed some property—this (produced) is a portion of it.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Re-examined). A portion of this property was found, at each place, 74 and 120, and a ticket for an umbrella at 120, Cornwall Road, pledged with Mr. Chapman on July 9th in the name of John Morgan.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I have got here a statement made by Park, describing the way in which a good many of these burglaries were done—he says in it, "I don't know Kelly."
Re-examined. There is nothing in it about the robbery at 30, Southampton Street, Strand.
MR. H. AVORY and MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for Kelly, and MR. TURRELL for Clark.
ALFRED SPENCER . I am a barman to Mr. Eade, of the St. George's Arms, Westminster—on 7th July, about two p.m., Clark came in with another man, who left—I saw Clark with his hand on the handle of the staircase door, which leads to the billiard-room and the private apartments—the other man came back, and stood with his back to the counter—I asked them if they had been served—they said, "Yes," and both left the house—in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour I found that a robbery had been committed—on July 19th I picked Clark out from seven or eight others at Kennington Police-station—I don't know Kelly.
Cross-examined by MR. TURRELL. People do not frequently come into the private bar at two p.m.—I noticed them because they were the only two there, but I did not serve them—there is a urinal upstairs—Clark wore a striped-cricket cap—some of the men at the station had their hats on and some off; I did not notice whether Clark had a hat or a cap then—I was satisfied he was the man—when I saw him in the bar he had a black coat and a short hat.
WILLIAM GREEN . I am barman to Mr. Eade, of the King's Arms—on 7th July, about two o'clock, I saw Kelly in the bar with a man, who I cannot identify—I lost sight of Kelly for about four minutes, but I saw him in the bar afterwards—I just turned my back, and when I looked round again they had gone—on 24th July I saw Kelly with seven or eight others at the Police-station, and picked him out.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Kelly was a stranger to me—the men with whom he was placed were not at all like him—they were fair and dark and about the same age as Kelly—I was the first to go in; four or five other witnesses went in after me—two o'clock is not a very busy time.
ALICE PARRY . I am cook to Mr. Eade at the King's Arms—about 7th July, I think it was Monday, I saw Kelly on the last flight of stairs leading from the first floor to the ground, they lead to the billiard-room, but there are several more flights—I did not speak to him; it was exactly a quarter to two o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was not on the staircase; I went from the kitchen to the bar parlour, and coming out I saw Kelly coming downstairs—he did not pass by me, he stopped there, and I went into the kitchen and turned back, and he was still standing there—two windows open on to the landing—I had a momentary observation of him, I had never seen him before—I gave a description of him to Kamber—he was placed with men of all sorts at the station, and I picked him out—I am positive he is the man.
MONA VENNER . I am barmaid to Mr. Eade, of the King's Arms—on 7th July, at 11 a.m., I left some property in my bedroom on the second floor, which is reached by a staircase passing the billiard-room—about two p.m. Alice Smith told me something, and I went to my bedroom and missed a gold watch and chain, a ring, a bracelet, and some opera glasses.
ALICE SMITH . I am nursemaid at the King's Arms—on 7th July, about 12.45, I went into the barmaid's room and saw her watch and chain and some silver bracelets safe—just after two o'clock I went in again and they were gone.
ALFRED KAMBER (Detective L). On 19th July, about 11 a.m., I was in the Waterloo Road, and saw Clark and Kelly on the opposite side of the road—I crossed over—they apparently caught sight of me, and as I got on the kerb they ran in different directions—I ran after Clark, and after a chase caught him in Gray Street, and told him he would be charged on suspicion of answering the description of a man wanted for stealing jewellery at the King's Arms, Westminster Road—he said, "I know nothing about it, I was in Charing Cross Hospital at the time"—Kelly is the other man—the witness pointed Clark out at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. TURRELL. The barman picked Clark out from six others, who came from the street—they all answered his description—I went to Charing Cross Hospital, and found Clark had been there as an out-patient at 12.10 a.m. to have a scalp wound dressed, and it was dressed by Mr. Powell—I told him the robbery was committed on 7th July—I did not say Monday—he attended the hospital on the 12th only.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective L). On 24th July, about noon, I saw Kelly in Coral Street, Lambeth—Kamber was with me—he entered No. 34—I knocked at the door, and was admitted—I went to the first floor front room, and found him there with a woman—I told him we were police officers, and should take him into custody for being concerned with Paddy Shea in committing larcenies at public-houses—I mentioned Mr. Shoe's case and Mr. Eade's—he said, "All right, governor; I suppose I shall have to stand to it"—he was placed with others at the station for identification—I searched his room, and found twenty-three pawntickets relating to clothing and jewellery, none of which has been identified.
GUILTY . The prisoners then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, Kelly** at Clerkenwell on 18th, June, 1888, in the name of Walter Munroe, and Clark at this Court on 18th, May, 1885, in the name of Joseph Shears.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
GABIN**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. PARKS, VAUGHAN, and REYNOLDS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
The JURY commended the officers' conduct.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
15th May to 28th July—on 28th July they both left together—Ellen did not come back again; she gave no notice—I had given her notice a month before, and she asked me to let her stay a little longer—I did not know when she left that she was going to do so—on 29th July I could not find the key of the cabinet—Miss Bailey, a young lady staying with me, brought me the dressing-case—I had the key of it in my pocket, but it was not locked—when I opened it I found that my bank book, which ought to have been there, was not there, and I did not see it again till I was at the Police-court—there is another bank book—I have £101 0s. 11d. deposited in the Lambeth Savings Bank—I am paralysed, and cannot write now, and I made a cross at the bank—I have never drawn out any of the £101 0s. 11d.—I did not make this mark against this withdrawal order—I did not withdraw money from this bank on 30th June—I did not authorise Ellen White to withdraw £8 from the bank, nor did I authorise Winifred to be a witness to my signature or mark. (Order read: "To the trustees and managers of the Lambeth Savings Bank—Pay to Ellen White, or bearer, £8 on production of my book. X Mrs. Catherine Morris. 30th June, 1890. Witness, Winifred White")—on 30th June the prisoner was staying at my house—when I make a mark now my hand is held.
Cross-examined by ELLEN. I did not send you to fetch the money from the bank.
Re-examined. I received no money from Ellen on 30th June.
HENRY WILSON . I am cashier of the Lambeth Savings Bank, Hercules Buildings—this is one of our books representing the account of Mrs. Morris—on 30th June there is a withdrawal of £8—this withdrawal form was produced by Ellen White when that money was withdrawn on 30th June—without its being filled up the money could not be withdrawn unless the lady came herself—I believe Winifred came with Ellen, but I did not take much notice.
WILLIAM WOODS (Policeman L 319). On the evening of 30th August I arrested the prisoners in a tramcar in the Camberwell Road—I told them I should take them into custody for stealing money from an employer—I did not know her name—both prisoners said, "I don't know anything about it"—they repeated the same answer when charged at the station—the female searcher handed me a half-sovereign and three-halfpence, a pawnticket, and a bank-book—they gave an address—I went with another constable and searched their lodgings at 255, Waterloo Road—we found nothing connected with this case.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Ellen White says: "I could not get at Mrs. Morris's dressing-case unless she gave me the keys, because she always had them with her." Winifred White says: "Ellen White told me that Mrs. Morris told her to sign it, and I signed it for her."
Ellen White, in a written defence, said that all she had done had been at the request and on behalf of Mrs. Morris, WINIFRED WHITE— NOT GUILTY .
ELLEN WHITE— GUILTY of Uttering
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 20TH 1890.