CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 20TH, 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,
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, October 20th, 1890, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR HENRY AARON ISAACS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Hon. Sir JAMES FITZJAMES STEPHEN, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart.; Sir ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , Bart.; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the said City; DAVID EVANS , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., and ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q.C., D.C.L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
AUGUSTUS HENRY GLOSSOP HARRIS, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ISAACS, MAYOR. TWELFTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT. Monday, October 20th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
CHARLOTTE NORTH . I assist my father, who keeps the Blakeney's Head, Poplar—on the evening of 30th August, between seven and half-past, I was serving in the bar—the prisoner" came in for two pennyworth of whisky; he gave me a shilling in payment, and I gave him the change; I kept the shilling in my hand—I showed it to my father, who was standing at the door—the prisoner was then just going out, my father followed him—I kept the coin in my hand till he returned—this (produced) is it—I think the prisoner was sober, but I am not sure.
FRANCIS NORTH . I am landlord of the Blakeney's Head—my daughter spoke to me and showed me this coin—I saw the prisoner enter the house, and leave it—I followed him along several streets and into a barber's shop—I beckoned to a constable, and gave him in charge—he asked me what I wanted him for, I said, "For passing a bad coin in my house"—he said, "I have not been in your house"—he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. It was nearly half a mile from my house that I gave you into custody—I did not say I had not seen your face in my house.
JAMES CASHFORD (Policeman K 626). The prisoner was given into my custody by Mr. North—when charged he said it was a lie, he had not been in the house; at the station I found on him 2s. 6d. in good silver, and 41/4d. in bronze, a wooden pipe, and a knife—he said nothing in answer to the charge—he was asked for his address—he said he should not give it—I looked at the coin, it was bad.
Prisoner's Defence. I never went into the house, I was intoxicated at the time.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended. THOMAS GOODSON. I am barman at the Bell public-house, Wellington
Street, Strand—on the night of the 22nd September, about a quarter-past twelve, I was serving at the bar—the prisoner came in, in company with a man named Davis—the prisoner called for twopennyworth of brandy neat and a glass of bitter, and paid with a good 6d. three halfpennyworth of rum was called for for the cabman, who came in, for which the prisoner paid in copper—afterwards he called for a cigar, which came to 2d., for that he tendered a 2s. piece—I examined it, and found it was bad; I broke it in halves with my fingers—the prisoner saw me do it—I asked him if he had any more coins of the same description—he said, "Yes, we have plenty of b——coins the same as that"—they had both had a drop of drink, but they knew what they were doing, they were not drunk—they used abusive language to me, and I sent for a constable to have them put out of the house, and I gave them in charge—I told the constable what had happened, and he said he should take them to the station—Shepherd said nothing to that—I gave the pieces of the coin back to Shepherd, and he gave them to the constable—these are the pieces I broke.
Cross-examined. I had never taken any counterfeit coin before—I don't remember whether I mentioned before the Magistrate that I gave the pieces back to Shepherd, but I did give them back—if he had been drunk I should not have served him—he was reckless and violent.
HERBERT SWAIN (Policeman E 56). I was called to the Bell early on the morning of the 23rd, and the prisoner and Davis were given into my custody—the barman pointed out to me the coin lying on the counter—I picked it up, and said to the prisoner, "Is that yours?"—he said, "Yes," the barman stating at the same time that the prisoner had attempted to utter it—there was a cab outside and the driver in it, and I put the prisoner inside, and he was taken to the station; I walked by the side of it—at the station the charge was formally taken—the prisoner made no answer—I searched him, and found on him £1 in gold, 19s. 6d. in silver, 1s. 5d. in bronze, and a counterfeit florin—on Davis I found 17s. 5d. in silver, all good, 1s. in bronze, a counterfeit florin, and a portion of a second counterfeit florin—Shepherd was drunk; Davis was sober—the cabman went away; he returned in about half or three quarters of an hour, and brought with him eighty-eight counterfeit coins in seven packets and some loose ones—I and the Inspector opened the packets—there were sixty-six florins and ten shillings—they were folded up separately in common newspaper.
Cross-examined. I was in uniform—Shepherd did not use any reckless language in my presence; he was drunk, but very quiet—no coins wrapped in tissue paper were found on him, nor any broken pieces.
HORACE BREWER . I am a hackney-carriage driver, badge 11,246I live in Caroline Street, Old Kent Road—on the night of the 22nd September, about a quarter to twelve, I was with my cab at the Elephant and Castle Station, when I was hired by two men—they told mo to drive to King's Cross—on the way they stopped at the Bell—they asked me to come in; I did not go in at first, but the second time they called me I went in and had three halfpennyworth of rum—afterwards I drove them to Bow Street station, and after that I wont to Waterloo Station; there I was called to another fare in the "Waterloo Rood, and as I was driving, away the fare called my attention, and handed me a packet of corns through the trap of my hansom; I examined the coins when I got to the
end of my journey; I broke some of them, and I daresay I threw nine or ten coins away—I put my fare down—I kept the other packets, and drove back to Bow Street, and my fare gave some packets up—after setting down my fare I made a further search of the cat), and there found six or seven packets—I had no other fare.
WILLIAM THORN . I live at 31, Great Bland Street, Borough—about 12.35 on the morning of 23rd September I hired the last witness's cab at Waterloo Station—when I had got forty or fifty yards I found some packets on the floor of the cab—I handed two of them to the cabman—I also found eight or nine loose coins—we drove to Smithfield; the cabman there searched the cab, and I saw him find some more bad coins—a constable came along, and by his advice we drove to Bow Street, and there handed up the coins.
WILLIAM BENNETT (E 193). On 23rd September, about twenty minutes past twelve, I was on duty at the door of Bow Street Police station—I saw the cab in which Shepherd and Davis were driven up to the door, in custody of Swain—the cabman went in to get his fare; he was there five or six minutes—during that time I remained on the step of the station door in sight of the cab—I saw Brewer return, enter the cab, and drive away—no one entered the cab during that time or put anything into it, or I must have seen it.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—the florin found on the prisoner is bad—also the pieces of another florin; they are from different moulds—the one found on Davis is bad, and from the same mould as the one found on Shepherd—the sixty-six florins and the shillings are all bad; they are of various dates and moulds—they are wrapped up in the usual way with smashers, to prevent irritation, and they are taken out one by one to issue.
Witness for the Defence.
JAMES DAVIS. (Before being examined, the witness PLEADED GUILTY to uttering the counterfeit coin in question.) On the day in question I met Shepherd quite accidentally—we were drinking a good deal in the course of the day—I had got these things in my possession, and I suppose I got them mixed up, and I gave Shepherd two of them—I remember going into the Bell—before this there were some words between us as to why he should pay more than I towards the expense, because he had been paying nearly the whole—I said I would pay as much as he, and I suppose I must have had these two counterfeit coins in my pocket, and I gave them to him—I put the coins in the cab while we were going to the Police-station—Shepherd had no knowledge of any bad money being in my possession—when I first saw him we were both sober, but at the latter part of the time I believe we were both drunk.
Cross-examined. I first met Shepherd at Kennington-lane Police-court about midday—I was looking on—there was a crowd of people there—McAuliffe and Slav in were at the court under examination—between that time and midnight we were going about from one place to another—I can't say exactly where—I first spoke to Shepherd in the crowd—he was next to me—we spoke about the fight—I had only known him about ten minutes—I was in his company all the time between midday and midnight—I was then going home; I suppose he was doing the same when I hired the cab at the Elephant—I had these packets of counterfeit coin since the morning; I bought them or had them given to me, whichever
way you like—I was going to utter them—I could not tell you now where I got them from, because you could not find anybody now that I got them from—Shepherd called for the liquor at the Bell; he was calling for drink for me as well—I don't think I called for any.
By the COURT. I have never been convicted before—I had never known Shepherd till that day.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in February, 1885. Six Years' Penal Servitude. DAVIS, Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
740. GEORGE WHITE (27) and JOHN BLACK (30) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Mary Jane Butler, and stealing four pairs of stockings and other articles, value £100, White having been before convicted. WHITE Twenty Months' Hard Labour. BLACK Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
741. THOMAS HENRY HOBSON (27) , to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing an order, the property of the Postmaster-General. Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(742) JOHN ARTHUR SPICER (23) , to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 20s.; also to stealing post letters containing three orders. Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. TORR Proscuted.
JOHN PEACHEY . I am a bricklayer, living at 67, Thorpedale Road—I have known the prisoner five or six years—on 20th September, between 11 and 12 p.m., I was in Cottenham Road—I saw two men fighting, and I stood and looked on—the prisoner was looking on; to one of the men he said, "I will give him something"—I said, "There is only one man to one, let them alone, and let them fight"—he said, "What has it got to do with you?"—I said, "What has it got to do with you?"—then we said we had had little differences, and the prisoner said, "Let us fight"—we fought for about five minutes, and then policemen came, and the prisoner went away—he came back in about five minutes, and said, "Do you want to fight me?"—I thought he meant to finish it out—I went into the road and got my coat off, when he made a rush at me with this chopper—I warded off the blow with my coat, and a lot of people got in between us, and he went away—I stood talking at the corner, and twenty minutes afterwards the prisoner came before I could hardly see him coming; I just saw the chopper, and he hit me on the head with it—before he struck me he said, "That is for you, Jack Peachey"—I was taken to the doctor's, but he was not at home, and I was taken to the station—I charged him there—I was bleeding—I was sober, and I thought he was sober.
By the COURT. My head was plastered by the divisional surgeon at the station—it is going on very well.
WILLIAM JOSEPH HUMBERSTONE . I am a labourer—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor fighting—the police came up, and they were parted Shepherd came back and put up his fists, and said, "Fight me—"Peachey, while taking off his coat, was knocked down by another young fellow—the prisoner pulled out the chopper and aimed a blow at another
young fellow, and then he aimed a blow at Peachey—the prisoner came round afterwards a third time, and aimed a blow at Peachey with the chopper, and I saw Peachey fall—I could almost swear this was the chopper—when he struck the blow I could almost swear the prisoner said, "I will kill you," or "I will do for you"—the prisoner ran away after that—I went for a doctor—both men were worse for drink—I was sober.
GEORGE WHITE . I am divisional surgeon of police at Holloway—between one and two a.m. on 21st September I was called to the station, and found the prosecutor bleeding from an incised scalp wound in the front part of his head, about two inches long—it was where the plaster is now—it penetrated to the bone—it was such a wound as might have been caused by this chopper—it was not a very serious wound; I believe his hat had saved it—the prosecutor was sober when I saw him—he lost a good deal of blood—the wound is quite healed now.
JOHN LYNCH (Y 141). On the night of the 20th I received information, in consequence of which I went to Cottenham Road—I saw Shepherd running—he was stopped—when I got to him he said, "Where is he? I wish I had killed him"—the prisoner was perfectly sober—when charged he said, "I am very sorry—the chopper was brought to the station by a witness who saw it thrown away.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry for what I have done. "
The Prisoner called
JANE TURNER . I am married, and live at 170, Theobald's Road—the prisoner is my brother—on 20th September I was drinking with him at a public-house—he was the worse for drink all the evening—I saw the fight—I saw Peachey strike the blow—Peachey is a boxer, and my brother said, "I cannot fight you, and will give in," and Peachey said, "I won't give in"—my brother said, "I cannot fight; I have been out of work lately; and I have not had any food, and I cannot fight"—the chopper must have been put in my brother's hand by some one—he never went and fetched it; he never moved away.
JOHN PEACHEY (Re-examined by the COURT). I am not a boxer that I know of—I spar at times—I am not a good hand at it by a long way—I did not hear the prisoner say he could not fight; that he had no food lately—he said he would fight me—we fought for five or ten minutes.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said he was very sorry for what he did; but that Peachey had pitched on him before when they had had drink, and that several times he had tried to pick a row with him.
GUILTY of Unlawfully Wounding.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in February, 1888.
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MOORE Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT. Monday, October 20th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
EDWARD "WILLIAM BRIMBLE . I am employed at the Stag's Head, Hoxton—on October 4th, about 7 p.m., the prisoner called for half a pint of beer, which came to one penny—she gave me a shilling; I gave it back to her and said, "This is a bad one"—she said, "Oh!"—she had a penny in her other hand, and paid for the beer, and left with the shilling—this is it to the best of my knowledge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not try it, because I have been fourteen years in the business, and can tell good silver from bad.
THOMAS WATKINSON . I am a labourer, of 24, De Beauvoir Crescent—I was in the Stag's Head, and saw the prisoner give a shilling—Mr. Brimble told her it was bad—she said, "Oh!" and took a penny from her purse—I followed her out, and she went to Mr. Orme's shop—I went in—she called for some fish and offered a shilling—I told the boy who was serving, and he examined the coin, and sent for a constable—the prisoner asked me who authorised me to follow her.
ERNEST ORME . My father keeps a fried fish-shop in Hoxton Street—I was serving on October 4th, and at a little after 7 p.m. the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of fish, and gave me a shilling—Mr. Watkinson said something to me, and I tested it and broke it in half—she said nothing—I gave the shilling to my father, and he sent for a constable.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not know it was bad, if the barman had tried it properly I should have known it.
GUILTY . Nine Months' Hard Labour.
746. GEORGE KETTLE (43) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a cheque for £17, with intent to defraud, having been convicted of forgery at this Court on January 13, 1879. Two Years' Hard Labour. And
(747) CHARLES PHILLIPS** (31) , to entering the dwelling-house of Alfred Hill, with intent to steal, after a conviction at this Court on July 28th, 1884; also to having housebreaking implements in his possession.
Twenty Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT. Tuesday, October 21st, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(749) GEORGE COWBURN (28), a soldier, and JOHN BEVAN (26), PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a writing purporting to be a certificate to the character of Bevan. COWBURN . One Month Hard Labour , BEVAN Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HUTTON appeared for Williams, and MR. GILL for Pocock. ALBERT EDWARD BATCHELOR. I am assistant to Philip Morris and Co., of 35, St. James' Street; they have also a shop in Bond Street—on Saturday, 26th July, about half-past six in the evening, the prisoners came to our shop in St. James' Street—Williams said he wanted a box of good cigar—she did not give any name at that time—I served him with the cigars, and asked if he required any cigarette—she said, "Yes; a hundred"—I showed them to him—he said, "I am Duncan Cameron; I have an account at your other house, but as that is closed I have come here"—I looked at our books, and found there was a customer of the name of Cameron—he gave his address as 4, Little St. James' Street—he paid with this cheque, which he pulled out of his watch-pocket—it was already drawn and endorsed. (This was drawn by C. Guy C. Pocock, on the Alliance Bank, Earl's Court branchy for £5, in favour of Duncan Cameron, and endorsed "Duncan Cameron")I gave him the balance, £2 7s. 6d. the goods came to £2 7s. 6d. he took away about five cigars and the box of cigarettes—I waited till Monday morning before sending the goods—I then sent the cheque to the bank, and it was returned marked "No effects"—I sent to 4, Little St. James' Street, and found he was not there—when I gave him the change and the cigars I believed this to be a good cheque.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. My memory is distinct about this matter—I am sure Pocock was there; I did not see very much of him, as he was walking about the shop while Williams was buying the cigars—I am quite sure Pocock was there—I next saw him at the Police-station; he was then among other men in" order that I might pick him out—I at first picked out another man—Pocock then looked up, and I said, "No, that is the man"—I don't remember saying, "I think that is the man"(Frederick Milner called in) I see that man—I should be very much surprised to hear that he was in the shop—the man I first picked out was a fair man, similar to myself.
Re-examined. At the time I picked out the other man I had not seen Pocock's face distinctly; his face was down; he looked up directly I picked out the other man, and I recognised him—looking at him now I have no doubt about him.
GEORGE WILLS HOARE . I am a clerk in the Earl's Court branch of the Alliance Bank—I produce a copy of the current account of Charles Guy Coventry Pocock at that branch; I have examined it with our books; it is a correct copy—the account was opened in October, 1889, by a payment
of £50; there was a further payment next day of £8 10s., and on 17th June a further payment of £15; that was all the money that was paid in—the last cheque paid was on 7th February this year; that left the account overdrawn £3 17s. 5d. it has remained in that condition ever since—I know Pocock's handwriting—I have received a number of letters from him respecting his account. (Two letters dated 3rd February and 9th June were read from Pocock, promising to pay in money to set his account right)we have not had any money or any communication from him since then—this cheque for £10, dated 26th July, was presented; there is a counterfoil of that cheque, entered as payable to "Cameron, for self"—that is in Pocock's writing—there is no counterfoil subsequent to that—there is a counterfoil of a cheque for £25 on 28th July; that is entered as "Cameron 25," in Pocock's writing—I have a book here in which returned cheques are entered; it is one of the ordinary books of the bank; the entries in it are made in the ordinary course of business.
THOMAS HENRY FLUX . I am manager of the Earl's Court branch of the Alliance Bank—this book containing entries of returned cheques is one of the ordinary books of the bank, and the entries are made in the ordinary course of business—it contains entries of cheques drawn by C. G. C. Pocock.
G. W. HOARE (Continued). The entries are in different handwritings; I know the writing; one of the persons who made them has since resigned; the other is still in the service of the bank—the entries are continuous in order of date; five cheques were returned between 7th February and 26th July.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I was not familiar with the communications that were taking place between Pocock and the bank—I did not know that he was making arrangements that his mother should guarantee an overdraft to the amount of £100 there is a letter to that effect; also one to the effect that he was making arrangements to raise money, and had been disappointed—I know he has been to the bank—I do not know that he is a son of Captain Pocock and heir to a baronetcy—he represented himself as such.
ALFRED BOOTH . I live at 4, Little St. James' Street; I let lodgings—Williams-lodged with me from 19th June to 17th July; I knew him as Duncan Cameron—he left without notice, owing £10 11s. 4d. he left a few articles behind him, old clothes.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. He left behind an American trunk, but nothing in it.
THOMAS BOWDEN . I arrested Williams on August 7th on another charge—on the way to the station he said he knew that he had pawned the machines, but he did not know he was doing wrong—he also said, "I have been sold by Pocock," or something to that effect—he asked me to allow him to write a telegram—I did so, and that was the means of Pocock being arrested—I found on him three duplicates relating to his own property, and a passport in the name of Theodore Duncan Cameron; also this cheque for £25, drawn by Pocock in favour of Cameron.
THOMAS HOLMES . I am head waiter at Brown's Hotel, Dover Street—I know a gentleman named Duncan Cameron, son of Sir Mark Cameron—Williams came to our hotel about a week previous to his arrest, on a Sunday night, and left on the Monday or Tuesday—I believe
the proprietor made it pretty unpleasant for him, and lie was almost compelled to go; I knew he was not the son of Sir Mark Cameron, and I told the proprietor so; he had given the name of Cameron.
BENJAMIN ALLEN (Police Sergeant C). I arrested Pocock on August 7th at King's Cross—I told him I held a warrant for his apprehension, for obtaining £2 7s. 6d. by false pretence—she made no reply—at the station I read the warrant to him—he said,. "It is untrue; I post-dated the cheque and gave it to Cameron, as I expected to have money to meet it, and I was very much disappointed when I found he had passed the cheque"—I believe he said Cameron—I don't recollect whether he said Cameron or Williams—I have a note of what he said—it was "Williams"—I found on him this cheque-book, with counterfoils in it.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I arrested him at Percy Circus, King's Cross; that is the address from which he wrote to the bank—he was admitted to bail on two sureties, his stepmother being one.
Witnesses for the Defence.
SIDNEY JOSEPH ESSEX BENHAM . I am a solicitor, of 60, Chancery Lane—I know Mr. Milner, and have known him slightly for some time; he introduced me to Pocock in July last, for the purpose of raising money on his reversionary interest in the estates of his uncle, Sir George Pocock; he made an appointment with me, but did not keep it—he came to me about four or five days afterwards—I took certain particulars from Mr. Milner as to Pocock's position, and who he was, and his father and uncle—he handed me certain documents and particulars—I told Mr. Milner that I would take steps to negotiate the loan, subject to his Particulars being accurate—I first saw Mr. Milner at my office on 24th July; he had called twice before, but I did not see him—on 30th July I told him I could not carry out the loan, the title was not to my satisfaction—on 2nd August I received a letter from Pocock complaining of the delay—he had spoken to me about the matter first on the Saturday afternoon, 19th July, with Pocock, and I then refused to discuss it in the street.
Cross-examined. I did not know Pocock before, I had never heard of him before Mr. Milner introduced him to me—on 24th July I told Milner that the result of my inquiries was satisfactory, and I might be able to negotiate the loan—I told him without doubt I could if the particulars were accurate—on the 30th July I told him the particulars were not accurate.
Re-examined. I found there was some doubt as to the existence of the entail, and in consequence of that I could not advise any loan.
RODERICK C. MILNER . I am a clerk in the employ of a civil engineer—I know Mr. Benham; I also know Pocock—I knew him as the son of Captain Pocock, and the nephew of Sir George Pocock, and the heir to the baronetcy—I introduced him to Mr. Benham with a view to a loan being negotiated on his reversionary interest on the estates of his uncle—I think Mr. Benham called on two or three occasions when I was not there—I gave him full particulars of who Pocock was, his position, and other particulars that he desired with reference to the proposed loan—I saw him on 30th July, and told him that I could not carry out the loan—I communicated that to Pocock two or three days afterwards—as a fact it was I who was in company with Williams at the shop of Messrs. Morris and Co. on the occasion in question; Pocock was not there at all.
Cross-examined. I am not at all like Pocock—I have never been mistaken
for him—I always wear glasses in the daytime; I should be wearing them at half-past six—I had them on when I went into Messrs. Morris's shop with Williams—I have only been there once, and that was on the occasion of cashing the cheque—I have known Williams three or four months—I think he was living at 4, Little St. James' Street—I have never been there—I heard that he was there about a week before, when I met him casually—I did not know that he had left—Pocock had been for about three months trying to negotiate a loan on his reversionary interest I could not say in how many quarters; I placed it in two quarters, and it was refused; in one case it was refused on the ground of there being an entail; in the other case it was a different kind of reversion—I have known Pocock three or four years—I knew he had an account at the Alliance Bank, and that he had ceased operating upon it—I know that about three weeks before I went to Mr. Benham he wrote to the bank that he expected a loan on the reversion, and would settle the account then—I knew Williams as Duncan Cameron—I knew him to be an American, from hearsay, that was all; I thought he had come over here to spend his holidays—I never visited him at Little St. James' Street—I never heard that he was going about buying type-writing machines, and pawning them the next day—I thought he was a wealthy American gentleman over here for a holiday—I did not know it was Pocock's cheque when it was presented; I met Williams that day, and he asked me to go in with him; he was going to buy some cigars, and I went; I saw him pay with a cheque, but I did not trouble myself to notice it; I simply saw him place it on the counter—he did not draw it in the shop—I met him afterward—she told me that the cigars had not been delivered; I asked him why, and then I learnt that it was Pocock's cheque, and then I told him that Mr. Benham's business was off, and Pocock told me his cheque was not met, and I said he had better telegraph to his mother—I did not know that Williams had got another cheque of Pocock's for £25.
Re-examined. I know that Pocock was taking advice with regard to an action against his uncle with regard to the matter, and that he gave notice to the tenants not to pay to him—he disputed the right to bar the entail throughout.
WILLIAMS— GUILTY .— Two Days.
POCOCK— NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 21st, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. K. FRITH Defended.
ROBERT PAEKER . On September 25th I was assisting my brother, and went out with a pony and cart to sell vegetables—the prisoner purchased four pounds of potatoes and some vegetables, which came to fivepence—he gave me a shilling; I gave him sevenpence change, and put the shilling in my pocket—I had no other shilling thereabout twenty minutes after, a lady purchased some potatoes, and I gave her the shilling in change—she went away, and returned with it—I tried it, and it was had—this is it—five days afterwards the prisoner came up to me in the street, purchased a pennyworth of wood, paid with a penny, and went away—I recognised him, but did not tell Mm so—he then came back and purchased another pennyworth of wood, and gave me a shilling; I put it between my teeth, found it was bad, and gave it back to him, and told him it was bad; he said he would go and get change; I followed him on my van, and when I got round a corner I saw him running—I drove down twelve streets after him—he went into a post-office and got change, and came out, and gave me the penny for the wood—I told him I should lock him up for passing bad money on September 25th he asked how much it was—I said that he gave me a shilling on the 25th he put a shilling on the van; I picked it up, and he went away—I went after him—he ran to the Sixth Avenue—I overtook him there, and he said, "There is two more shillings; I would rather give you a sovereign than you should lock me up, and disgrace my character"—Hughes then came up, and I told him what had happened,—the prisoner ran away again, and Hughes jumped up in my van and drove after him—I left my pony and followed him; he said, "Come to my house," and I went with him to 118, Kensal Road—he went in, shut the door, and left me outside—I called a constable, who refused to have anything to do with it—another constable came up, but did not take him—I went to the station, and a constable went to his house late at night and took him—I am sure he is the man that bought the turnips on. the first occasion.
Cross-examined. There is no one here from the post-office—nobody has told me that the shilling the prisoner changed there was bad—I first of all said that this was on the 23rd, but when I went to the Court the second time I altered the date to the 25th, because my brother went into the country on Saturday night, and I went to market and did not buy any turnips—the lady who I gave the two shillings to, proves that it was on the 25th I knew that the prisoner said he could account for his whereabouts on the 23rd he called a witness to prove where he was on the 23rd he was away about five minutes between buying the first and the second wood—I can give no explanation why I did not speak to him the first time—I did not charge him till he came out of the post-office—he got change there, and came out and paid me hastily, and then ran away—after I got the change I said I would charge him—he said he would rather give me £1, as he had eleven children and a wife, and said something about disgracing his character—every penny found on him was good, but he had been in his house and came back.
Re-examined. The 25th was Thursday; I know the day because my brother went away, and did not return till Tuesday, the 23rd when I went to market I bought no turnips, but when he came home he bought those turnips.
CHARLES HUGHES . I am a grocer's assistant, at 111, Albert Street, Queen's Park—on 30th September I was minding a shop in the Harrow Road, and saw the prisoner run into the Harrow Road from the Sixth Avenue, followed by Parker, who I knew, and asked him what was the matter—he said that man had given him a bad shilling, and he should lock him up—the prisoner said, "I will give you anything if you will let me go; I have got a wife and eleven children"—he ran away again, and I jumped into Parker's van, and we drove after him; we got out at the foot bridge, and followed him to 118, Kensal Road; he went in and shut the door, leaving us outside—Parker spoke to a constable, who refused to have anything to do with it—later in the evening the prisoner came to my shop, and asked me to say that he gave me a bad shilling, and Parker was a witness to it.
By the COURT. I have not mentioned that before; I was not called at the Police-court—I have no object in this case—he took down my name and address in a pocket-book—that was about 5.30, about on hour after I saw him go into the house—he was a stranger to me; I do not know how he found out where I lived—I said that he was a silly fellow not to let it drop, he would only make it worse for himself—he said, "We shall see," and walked away—what he said was, "You accuse me of giving him a bad shilling; can you bring Parker as a witness?"
Cross-examined. He invited me to bring a charge against him; I mean to say that I was to give him in custody for passing a bad shilling on me—he did not look like a lunatic; I have not turned something; upside down in my mind—he walked away, and the prisoner retired indoor—she had gone in before the constable came—the prosecutor was about three minutes gone for the constable, and when the constable came he opened the door, and there was a little child with him—I do not know that he came at five o'clock, and asked me to charge him.
By the COURT. He said, "You accuse me of giving you a bad shilling, and you bring Parker as a witness. "
ROBERT GOTSELL (X 235). On 30th September, about 9.45, I went to the prisoner's house, 118, Kensal Road, and found him in bed—I said, "You are accused of offering bad money to-day, and will have to come with me to the station"—he said, "I had rather have given a quid than it should have happened, I don't want my character disgraced"—a quid is a sovereign, I believe—I took him to the station, and found on him six half-crowns, six florins, a shilling, two sixpences, and five pence—he was charged with knowingly uttering, on September 23rd, to Robert Parker, a counterfeit shilling—he said, "I don't mind what they say, I was at work with Mr. Bruce at Lyons and Co., 95, Watling Street, St. Paul's, from eight in the morning till seven in the evening. "
Cross-examined. Nobody is here from the post-office—no bad money was found on him—fivepence was loose in his pocket, the rest was in a purse—he called Mr. Bruce at the Police-court—the prosecutor told me that it was on the 23rd.
By the COURT. In an ordinary state of jaw, I should say that no one could bend a good shilling with his teeth, but there are a great many strong men about now, and it is difficult to say—it is a bad imitation.
—the prisoner was at work for me as carpenter's man for a fortnight, up to the evening of September 23rd, when he left at seven o'clock—I entrusted him with some money when he left, to pay a bill at Farmiloe's, and got it back receipted.
By the COURT. He was with me part of the day on the 25th, but I forget what part.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT. Wednesday, October 22nd, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
757. WILLIAM WILSON COPUS (23) , Feloniously administering to Harry Poole four grains of opium, with intent to murder; Second Count, there by endangering his life; Third Count, thereby inflicting grievous bodily harm.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and GILL Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
SOPHIA LOUIE POOLE . I live at 11, Hartington Street, Marylebone—I have known the prisoner about six years—when I first knew him I was in employment as a dressmaker; I was introduced to his relations, and knew them—on 10th December, 1887,1 had a child by him; after the birth of that child I did not see him for some few months—I took out an affiliation summons against him, and an order was made on him to pay me three shillings a week; that order was made in January—under that order he paid me the money from time to time—after that I was in the habit of seeing him from time to time, and connection took place between us—in August this year I became pregnant again—I spoke to the prisoner about it on different, occasions; the child was not living with me after the order was made; I had sent it out to be nursed—in August and September this year it was with me at 11, Hartington Street—it is a boy, and was christened Harry—at this time he was two years and seven or eight months old—when I first knew the prisoner he was employed as an assistant to a veterinary surgeon, and latterly as a clerk or agent, employed by the Prudential Assurance Company—I think I saw him on the Wednesday previous to 20th August—he visited me at Hartington Street on the 20th he then brought some stuff for me to take—he did not come on the Thursday, and I wrote to him—he brought it on the Wednesday, and took it away again, and brought it again on the Monday evening—I had written to him in the morning, to where he lived, in Filmer Road—I found him at my house when I came home, sitting in a chair by the fireplace; that was about ten minutes to ten—he had the stuff in his pocket, but I did not see it for some time afterwards—I asked him why he had not come on the Thursday; he said, "Well, I was so annoyed at your not taking it;" and he asked if I was willing to take it then—I consented to do so—about twelve o'clock he took from his pocket a bottle containing a mixture—he did not tell me
what it was; he poured some of it into a tumbler, laid it on the table, and I took it up and drank it; there were four doses he poured into the tumbler—this (produced) is the bottle, it has the doses marked in the glass—he said I was to take another four doses half an hour afterwards—I was up and dressed at this time, and he was also dressed—he was to stay the night in order to give me the other in the morning; there were eleven doses in the bottle; I was to take four doses at twelve, four about half-past, and the rest in the morning—about half-past twelve he poured the other four doses into the tumbler, and I drank it—I was with my boy in bed—after I had taken the second dose I felt awfully sleepy, nothing else—he advised me to undress and get into bed—I went to bed and went to sleep for about three hours, as well as I can remember; the boy was in bed with me, sleeping inside next the wall—when I roused up I missed the boy from my side—I heard the prisoner say to the boy, "Drink it, Harry, have something to drink," and I heard that the child was drinking—I did not see the child at the time—he put him back into the bed into the same place where he had been before, and I could smell that he had been drinking something; it smelt like the stuff I had been taking—I said to the prisoner, "Have you given Harry any of that stuff which you have given me?"—he said no, he had not—I asked him if he had taken any himself, as I could smell it so strongly; it smelt like laudanum—he said he had not given anything to the boy—I asked him why he did not come to bed—he said he had to go home; that he had important business to attend to—I said, "No, you will not go home, for I feel positive you have given something to my child"—I then got out of bed, locked the door, and took possession of the key—he then undressed and came to bed—after that the child became very restless and grating its teeth—I again accused the prisoner of having given something to the child; that I felt sure of it, as it was so restless, and I said, "If you gave the stuff tome, why did you give it to the child?" and I told him then that I had heard the child drinking—he said he had only given it some water when I went to bed first there were three doses left in the bottle—when I got out of bed I told him I would call my landlady—he begged me not to do so—when I looked round I noticed that the bottle was empty—I asked the prisoner what he had done with the three remaining doses that were in the bottle when I went to bed—he said he had emptied it into the chamber, as he thought I had had sufficient—I went and looked at the chambers, one was empty, and I had been vomiting in the other through the stuff I had taken—I did not vomit till after I had been asleep three hours; it was rousing up that made me feel so sick; I felt very bad—there was no sign of laudanum in the chambers; I said I should have to dress and go to a doctor or call the landlady's daughter; he said I had no need to call any one; if I was not able to go for a doctor he would go for one himself; I told him to go for Dr. Kerr, in Princes Road—he said, "I swear to my God that I will go and bring the doctor back with me," and he then left—I waited about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes; it would not take more than about ten minutes to get to the doctor's place—finding he did not come back, I called my landlady's daughter—I left the child in her charge, while I went for a doctor—I think that was about a little after four—I first went to Dr. Harris; he said he would come round; I went back, and fetched my baby,
and dressed it, and took the child, and met Dr. Harris at the door—he gave the child an emetic, and advised me to take it to St. Mary's Hospital—I did so—I had left the bottle on the washing-stand—I went back and fetched it, and took it to the hospital; I think it had about a teaspoonful of the mixture in it then—I was frequently sick afterwards; I was vomiting at the hospital.
Cross-examined. I did not complain to the doctor at the hospital about being ill and sick; the doctor said to me, "Have you had some as well?" and I said, "Yes"—he did not give me any medicine—I went to the hospital about three and returned about four—I have known the prisoner about five or six years—we had been on friendly terms until lately—he gave me his photograph—after leaving the hospital I went back to my room—after the prisoner had gone for the doctor I found his photograph lying in the fender torn in pieces—I did not know the prisoner had said we had a serious quarrel that night, until I received a letter from him next morning, at which I was very much surprised—I gave that letter to the police—the prisoner paid me my money in advance—on this occasion the prisoner must have been about twenty minutes in the room alone with the child before I came home—I took altogether eight doses of the mixture—I have not threatened to put a rope round the prisoner's neck may have said I would run a knife into him when I was out of temper—I have never said I would put a rope round his neck if he did not marry me—from the way he has served me I may have said I would put a knife in him; we have been on good terms, but, like other people, I may have lost my temper with him once or twice—I did not tear up the photograph, it was in two pieces when I found it; it had been in two pieces for months, on this night it was torn into about a dozen pieces—I don't know whether I have ever slapped the prisoner's face, or that I have threatened to take poison on account of the manner in which he treated me—I believe I did once say I would let his employers know his character, and show him up—I have not sent him a valentine with a skull and crossbones on it; I have never had such a thing in my room—I have not threatened to make away with myself and my child, and expose him in consequence; I think too much of my child.
Re-examined. I am very fond of my child—it was before the baby was born that I threatened to go to his employers—we were on very good terms on the Wednesday before this Monday, and we had been for some months previous—he stayed with me on the Wednesday nigh—the was to come the next day and bring the stuff for me to take—he did not come till the Monday; he then came in consequence of a letter I wrote to him on Wednesday morning—this (produced) is the letter I received from the prisoner on 26th August. (This letter alleged that he was not the father of the child, and that he could not think of marrying her, and that she had given him a certain disease)that is not true—he is the father of my child.
NORMAN KERR , M. D. I live at 42, Grove Road, about 300 yards from Hartington Street—I was at home on the morning of 26th August—the prisoner did not call on me that morning for the purpose of taking me to Hartington Street.
boy about two and a half years old—she always fed it well and kept it clean, but I think she beat it a little too much—on the morning in question she called me up about half-past four—I had seen the prisoner the night before about half-past nine—my mother let him in; I saw him afterward—she went into Poole's room—when she called me in the morning she made a statement to me and also to my mother—the prisoner was not there.
ADA EWINS . Sophia Poole lodged with me about four or five months with her little boy—she treated it very kindly and kept it clean—on the evening of 25th August I let the prisoner in—Poole was not there then, she came in in about twenty minutes—I went to bed about half-past ten—I did not see the prisoner leave—it is a four-roomed house, two up and two below—I heard no quarrelling before I went to bed—a little before four I heard my street door open and shut, I don't know who by—that was about a quarter to four—I looked at my clock because my husband was getting up to work—after that my daughter called me up, and I went into Mrs. Poole's room; I found she had gone out, leaving the baby with my daughter; it looked very sleepy and drowsy—I tried to keep it awake—Mrs. Poole came in, and from what I said to her she took her child to the doctor's, and I went out and overtook her with it—before she went to the doctor's she made a statement to me—Dr. Harris saw the child and treated it, and from what he said I went with the mother and child to the hospital—I saw Mrs. Poole sick and vomiting—she was sick several times—she appeared to be in a drowsy condition.
BENJAMIN HARRIS . I am a surgeon, of 81, North Street, Grove Road—on Tuesday morning, 26th August, a few minutes before five, Mrs. Poole came to my surgery—she was somewhat excited—in consequence of what she said to me, I left to go to 11, Hartington Road—as I was going I met her, carrying the child, accompanied by a second woman—we returned to the surgery, and I there examined the child—it was drowsy the pupils of the eyes were contracted—the mother made a statement to me, and in consequence of that I administered an emetic to the child—it had no effect—I directed the mother to take it to St. Mary's Hospital as quickly as possible—the child's condition was consistent with its suffering from opium poisoning—the indications were those of having had opium administered.
EDWARD OWEN KINDON . On 26th August I was house physician at St. Mary's Hospital—about a quarter to six that morning I was called up by Mrs. Poole; she had a little boy with her—I examined the boy—the skin was somewhat blue; the child was extremely drowsy; its condition indicated that some quantity of opium had been administered to it—I gave it an emetic; it was not effectual—I then washed out the stomach, keeping up the breathing by artificial means—I preserved the washing, and forwarded it for analysis—I had previously sent the mother home to fetch the bottle, which she did—there was about half a teaspoonful of liquid in it—I smelt it; as far as I could judge, it smelt of laudanum—I sealed up the bottle, and handed it to Dr. Luck for analysis.
ARTHUR PEARSON LUCK , M. D. I am one of the physicians of St. Mary's Hospital, and lecturer on medical jurisprudence—on 2nd September I received from Dr. Harris two sealed bottles, one containing about a teaspoonful of a brown fluid, which I analysed—it contained about equal proportions of tincture of opium and water—about
two grains of opium were in that bottle; it was an eight-ounce bottle, divided into sixteen equal parts—that, if distributed over the whole in proportion, would contain 120 grains—I also analysed the contents of the other bottle containing the washing of the child's stomach; I found' there about two and a half grains of opium—more than that must have been taken into the stomach; I should say at lease four or five grains; possibly between five and six—the spoonful was in an eight-ounce bottle, divided into sixteen parts; each dose would be a teaspoonful the smallest dose of opium that has ever proved fatal was the 90th part of a grain; that was in the case of an infant four weeks old; that would be exceptionally small—a child aged four and a half has been killed by two fifths of a grain, and within my own experience I have known of about forty grains of opium being taken, the patient some hours afterwards being able to speak, but eventually dying—I have known of enormous quantities taken by confirmed opium eaters—the largest dose that has come within my own knowledge from which a person has recovered has been between two and three teaspoonsful of laudanum; that would contain between eight and ten grains of opium; apart from my own experience five ounces have been taken and recovered from; that was in the case of an adult—there would be 160 grains in five ounces.
Cross-examined. Four grains have been known to kill an adult—ten grains would probably be fatal 160 grains would be exceptional—that would be enough to kill ten men—laudanum mixed with water would probably be more easily absorbed.
Re-examined. I should say sleep would somewhat delay the action of the poison, because the circulation would not be so energetic—the poison encourages sleep—we should endeavour to keep the patient awake.
JOSEPH LOKER (Police Sergeant B). On the night of 26th I arrested the prisoner at 8, Filmer Road, Fulham—I told him I should take him into custody for administering some poison to a little boy of the name of Harry Poole, at 11, Hartington Street, Marylebone—he said, "I know nothing about it; I never gave the child anything; I went and saw Miss Poole on Monday evening, and as she was in a very bad temper, T left her at five minutes to two in the morning and walked home"—I took him to the station, the charge was there entered and read to him; he made no reply to it.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT. Wednesday, October 22nd, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ROGERS Prosecuted.
JONATHAN JOINER . I am a carman, living in the back parlour at; 16, Hermitage Street—on the night of 4th September I went to bed at half-past eight—next morning, at live past five, I went out to go to work, leaving my room safe—I did not lock the door—the windows were
latched—at a quarter to six ray sister-in-law, Sarah Croft, sent for me—I ran to the house—I found the door locked and the window open—I missed £12 and this black silk handkerchief, worth half-a-crown—the £12 was taken out of my box in a drawer which had not been broken open, and the handkerchief was taken from another drawer, which was broken open—the drawers were all right when I went out half-an-hour before—I never saw the prisoner till the policeman had him that morning—I left my two children in bed asleep when I went out—they were locked in my room when I came back—I only occupy one room.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not send a detective after my son the same morning; I went after him myself—I cannot answer if you told me at the station that my son had the money, and that he showed it to you the day before—you said he gave you a sovereign to change, and that you changed it at the post-office, and he gave you a shilling to buy drink.
SARAH CROFT . I am the wife of William Croft—I live at the first floor front, 16, Hermitage Street, and am the last witness's sister-in-law—on the morning of the 5th September I came down at a quarter to six, and saw the prisoner lying down by the bedstead in the arm-chair—I asked him what he wanted there—I thought it was my brother-in-law—he said, "It is only me; don't make a bother; don't make a noise"—I said, "You rogue! you vagabond! what do you want here?"—I saw two old shirts that I had washed and mangled on the arm-chair—I said, "You have been to those drawers"—he said, "No, I have not"—at first the prisoner said the shirts were his, but afterwards he said, "They are not mine"—I told my nephews to keep the man in the room, and I would fetch their father—I took the key from the inside of the room, and put it outside the door, and locked him and my nephews into the room, and I went and called my brother-in-law, who was putting the horse into the van—the window was latched when I came out of the room—when I came back with my brother-in-law the prisoner had gone—I could not say how the window was then.
Cross-examined. You said you did not know what the shirts were, that they had nothing to do with you—I made a blow at you—I could not say you said you came to see my son-in-law; I have not got a son-in-law.
WILLIAM JOINER . I live at 16, Hermitage Street, with my father, and sleep in the room with him—on the morning of 5th September my father went out while I was asleep—shortly afterwards I was awakened by my aunt, Mrs. Croft, who was speaking to the prisoner—he was sitting in the chair—I don't know how he came into the room—he did not seem to be drunk—Mrs. Croft went away and locked the door, and told me to look after the man till she had told my father—she locked the prisoner into the room—the prisoner asked my brother whether he should jump out of the window or not, and my brother said yes—the prisoner undid the window and jumped out—I tried to stop him—he accidentally kicked me on the hand—he said nothing to me—I did not know him before.
GEORGE HETHERINGTON (F 102). On the morning of the 5th September I was in the Harrow Road on duty, and received information, and went to the prosecutor's house—I found the prisoner had escaped—I went to Stanley Mews, about 200 yards off, where I found the prisoner concealed behind a hansom cab—I said, "I shall take you into custody for stealing £12 and a silk handkerchief, the property of Mr. Joiner"—he made no reply then—five or ten minutes afterwards he said Mr. Joiner's
son had got the money—I took him to the station—I went back to the mews and searched, and found this silk handkerchief in the same place where the prisoner had been concealed—the chest of drawers at the prosecutor's house had been forced open by some instrument—the window was a little open—only a knife was found on the prisoner.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate, said that on the day before this robbery the prosecutor's son had shown him eleven sovereigns, and said it was his father's, and that he stole it out of the drawer; that he gave him a sovereign to change; that in the evening he met him, and received from him a silk handkerchief; that he asked him to call about a quarter-past five next morning, and that he went there.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he was not on the premises with the intention of stealing anything, and that he ran away because a lot of men came saying, "Where is he t let us get hold of him."
JONATHAN JOINER (Re-examined by the COURT). I have not heard anything of my eldest son since the morning of the 5th, when he was in bed—he was a horsekeeper; he has not been to his work since—he lived with me.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUGGINS Prosecuted.
GEORGE BASING . I am a wine merchant, living at 13, Montagu Place, Russell Square—on 2nd October, about half-past six p.m., I was in High Holborn coming from the post-office—the prisoner gave me a blow in my chest with his fist, and took my watch and chain—I followed him—I cried very loudly, "Atellez voleur," and then "Stop thief; stop robbers"—he went down a passage; I followed, shouting, "Stop the thief," "Stop the robber"—people in the passage put up their legs, to stop mea witness stopped the prisoner, and he came back into High Holborn—I followed him, and saw him taken into custody by a plainclothes constable—someone in the crowd brought my watch to met—he bow was broken—my chain was gone, except the catch—it was a very heavy chain, and cost 600 francs—I suffered pain from the blow, and have the mark on my leg still where they kicked me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You kicked me, not at the moment, but afterwards; the policeman was at your side—you hit me very strongly, I am sure.
Re-examined. I am quite sure he is the man.
CHARLES FLEET . I am a potman at the Bull's Head public-house, New Oxford Street—on Thursday, 2nd October, about half-past six p.m., I was outside our public-house, at the top of Dunn's Passage, when I saw the prisoner running up the passage and the prosecutor behind him, shouting "Stop thief"—I attempted to catch the prisoner, and he turned and ran through the passage towards High Holborn again—I caught him at the top of Smart's Buildings, and then he struggled with me and kicked me twice, once on the back and once on the right leg; he hurt mea policeman in plain clothes came to my assistance—we took the prisoner to the station—he was very violent—some one in the crowd in Drury Lane hit and kicked me besides the prisoner.
Cross-examined. You hit and kicked me in struggling to get away when I caught you at the top of Smart's Buildings.
ROBERT LUNDY . I am an errand boy, of 5, Clark's Building—son Thursday, 2nd October, about a quarter past six p.m., I heard a cry of "Stop thief," and saw the prisoner running in my direction in Dunn's Passage—I caught him by the collar—he bit my finger, drawing blood, and said if I did not leave go of my hold he would bite my finger off—I was obliged to let go—the last witness caught him—I saw him taken into custody—I did not see the watch.
WILLIAM CHILVERS (E R 36). At a quarter past six on Thursday, 2nd October, I was off duty in Oxford Street, and in plain clothes, when I saw the prisoner struggling with the last two witnesses in High Holborn—I went to their assistance—I saw the prosecutor, who was very excited; he did not know who I was, as I was in plain clothes, and he made no charge to me—he was shouting, "My watch and chain is gone"—a constable in uniform came to my assistance—the prosecutor said nothing to him—I had the prisoner in custody then—I took nothing from him—I did not see anybody take anything from him—the prosecutor had the watch when I came upon the way to the station the prisoner was very violent indeed, and tried to throw me under a van that was passing at the time—he was asked by the officer at the station his name and address; he said he had none.
Cross-examined. The van was passing by the kerb at a walking pace when you attempted to throw me.
The prisoner, in his defence, argued that he was incapable of trying to hock the prosecutor down; that neither watch nor chain was found on him, and no one knew who gave the prosecutor his watch back.
GUILTY Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
760. MARIAN GRAHAM (40) and. RICHARD GRAHAM (14) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Moss Broetman and another three pairs of boots and one pair of shoes, and other goods from other persons, with intent to defraud.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted. CHARLOTTE ELDER. I am assistant to Mr. John Stone, outfitter, at 165, High. Street, Stoke Newington—on 26th June Richard Graham came with this letter(Read: Tynemouth House, Tottenham—My dear Mrs. Stone, I am Mrs. Graham, of The Grove, Tottenham—I have had all my things at your shop—will you kindly send, tomorrow morning, some tea-gowns for me to look at and under things; some very good night-dresses. I do not want to give so much as I gave for the satin tea-gowns; I gave you £7. I want only to give about £5. Will you kindly send by my boy a pair of stays, 29 inches, a white petticoat, a wool one, large, and a good chemise—Yours faithfully, M. P. Graham—send me four things, the best, tomorrow")Richard Graham said, "Do you know me?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "We have been away from Tottenham, but have come back there to live at Tynemouth House. Tynemouth Road, Tottenham"—I gave him three petticoats, four chemises, and a pair of stays—I went the same day to Tynemouth House, but did not see Mrs. Graham there—I parted with the goods because I knew his mother as a previous customer when she lived at The Grove, Tottenham—I believed from the boy's words that she was living at Tynemouth House, which is a large double-fronted house.
Cross-examined by Marian Graham. I have known you as a customer about eight years—you have always paid me during that time—I gave you credit, knowing who you were, and because you had always paid.
Re-examined. I should have supplied the goods if I knew she did not live at Tynemouth House; but I should not if I had known she gave a false address.
WILLIAM PRESTON . I live at 56, Tynemouth Road, Tottenham, and am cashier to Mr. Robson, who lives at Tynemouth House, Tynemouth Road, Tottenham—I know him and his family well—I have been with him fourteen years.
GEORGE WILLIAM CHAPLIN . I am a draper, of Hereford House, High Road, Tottenham—Marian Graham was my customer up to about eighteen months ago, she paid me cash—I knew Richard as her son—on July 11th he came with a letter which I cannot find—he said, "Will you please send mother three umbrellas on approbation?" and he asked someone to go in the afternoon of the day to take an order for a new bonnet; the letter was headed, "Manor House, Stamford Hill"—I gave him the three umbrellas, which were 6s. 11d. each—the same afternoon I sent someone to Manor House, Stamford Hill, and went there myself on the following day, but I did not find any such house—I have not heard from the prisoners since, nor have I got any of my umbrellas back—I gave the boy the umbrellas, because I had known the prisoners before as customers, that was the only reason—the fact of the letter being dated from the Manor Road had no influence; I thought perhaps she had removed from where she lived before.
Cross-examined. I knew you four or five years ago as a lady living in the neighbourhood; but not as a customer then—I knew you as a customer in a very few transactions about eighteen months ago.
Re-examined. I do not think I should have supplied the goods if I had known it was a false address.
MOSS BROETMAN . I am assistant to my brother, a bootman, at West Green Road, Tottenham—the prisoners were customers of our predecessor; our assistant knows them well—about 21st July the boy came with this letter ("9, Tynemouth Road, Tottenham. Mrs. Graham, late of 8, Grove Terrace, Tottenham, would be glad if Mr. Broetman would send by bearer a nice pair of boots; it must be full five. If you look at your books you will know the name, and will you send some boys' boots to look at, and a pair of shoes for, me to look at, big four. Boys' boots big four. Yours faithfully, M. P. GRAHAM")the boy said he wanted a pair for himself, and the best we had for his mother—I gave him two pairs of ladies' boots, a pair of other boots, and a pair of lawn-tennis shoes—at five o'clock I sent the other goods—I went to 9, Tynemouth Road; I did not see the prisoners there, and took the goods back—I have not seen the prisoners nor the boots taken by the boy since—I supplied the boots to the boy because he was an old customer of our predecessor, and our assistant knew him quite well, and we gave them in that belief.
Cross-examined. I fancy you have been known as a customer a few years; I cannot say if ten years.
Cross-examined. We gave the things because I knew you as a customer.
HENRY ALLISON SUTER . I am manager to Mr. Gibson, chemist, Market Place, Walthamstow—on 14th August Richard Graham, whom I did not know before, came with this letter. (This was dated from 28, Park Place, Leyton, and asked for three cakes of Pears' soap, and other things, to be sent to Mrs. Graham)the boy said he was sent by his mother to obtain the goods, and that he had also authority from his mother to take a brush and comb for his +own use, and also a tablet of tar soap—I gave him soap, brush, bottle of scent, and a puff-box—he asked me what time in the evening we would send the other goods, and I said between seven and eight—a friend went to 28, Park Place, and afterwards, on the same evening, I went myself—I did not see either of the prisoners there—the house was to let—it is a good house in a good neighbourhood—I gave the goods to the boy because he said that in my predecessor's time his mother had been a very good customer—he mentioned several descriptions of goods she had from him; that was what induced me.
Cross-examined. You knew Mr. Barber, and sent to him for things you wanted.
Re-examined. I don't think I should have sent the goods if I had known it was a false address.
The COMMON SERJEANT ruled that there was no case of false pretences to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
761. JOHN EDWARD COLLER (34) , Unlawfully obtaining, by false pretences, 3s. 6d. from Julius Wyatt Druce, his master, with intent to defraud; and in other indictments with embezzling and stealing £1 and £3 5s. 2d. from the same person.
MR. MOYSES, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
763. GEORGE RICKETTS (23) , to obtaining from John Hancock 15s. 8d., and from other persons other sums by false pretences, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a cheque-book, the goods of George Jones; and to stealing a pair of spectacles, the goods of Elizabeth Harrison. Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
764. THOMAS BROWN (62) , to stealing a watch, the goods of Thomas Hayes, from his person; also** to a conviction of felony in October, 1874. Twenty Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
765. HENRY WILLIAMS (63) and HENRY JAMES THEOBALD (15) , to committing acts of gross indecency with each other. WILLIAMS Nine Months' Hard Labour. THEOBALD Discharged on recognisances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
766. JOHN THURGUR (27) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Rennach, and stealing a ring and other articles, and 32s; also to stealing a watch and other articles, and 23s., in the dwelling-house of Frederick Everall Edie. Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(767) JOHN EDWARD MURPHY (22), to two indictments for stealing £54 and other sums, the moneys of Messrs. Hudson, Ewbank, Kearley, and another, his masters. Sixteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
For case of Walter Lyons, tried in the Old Court, Thursday, see Kent Cases.
THIRD COURT. Thursday, October 23rd, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended. JOSEPH COOK (H 515). On the 11th August the prisoner was given into custody for bigamy by Jane Ward, his first wife—I got the certificate afterwards—I took him to the station—before we got there he told me he was living with a woman, but not married to her—he said the same thing at the station—inquiries were made, and then the second wife was brought to the station—when the two wives were present at the station the prisoner said the second wife was his wife—that was after the certificate of the second marriage was brought—he said, "It is no use my denying it, that is my wife"—that was with regard to the second wife—at the station he wrote "his name and address in my presence—I produce this certificate of the first marriage.
Cross-examined. I arrested him in Church Street, Bethnal Green—two or three hours after I took him to the station the second wife came, and there he said he did not deny it—the first one accompanied me to the station—the first wife was present when he was given into custody.
JOHN WRIGHT (E 286). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there on 11th August—I said, "I am instructed by my inspector to make inquiries about your second wife"—he said, "I am only living with her"—I said, "lam going to make inquiries"—he said, "I will write the address, down for you"—I asked him if he was living with her—he wrote on the paper, "Mrs. Ward, 12, Portland Place, South Clapham"—I went to the address, saw the second wife there, and brought her to the station—when both wives were present at the station the inspector asked him whether the first wife was his wife or no—the said, "Yes, it is no good denying it; I am married to her"—I produced this certificate of the second marriage; it was at the police station when this conversation took place.
SAMUEL HENDELBOUCK . I live at 15, Royston Street, Bonner Street, and have been sexton at St. James' Church, Bethnal Green for about eight years—the sexton before me, Thomas Dixon, is now dead—I produce the church marriage register—I find on May 24th, 1862, the original entry in the register of the marriage of Richard John Ward, bachelor, to Jane Cook, spinster.
EDWIN REUBEN MITCHELL . I am a sacristan of St. Mary's Church, Lambeth—I produce the register of marriages of that church—I find on August 16th, 1884, the original entry of the marriage of Richard Ward, widower, to Eliza Stapley, widow.
ANN BOX . I live at 16, Cholmondeley Street, Camberwell—the prisoner and his wife Jane lived at my house for twelve months in 1877 after that they lived near me in Mina Road—I have seen them three times since.
Cross-examined. I saw her three or four months ago, when she came to tell me about this case; I saw her about a month before that—she was alone on each of the occasions when I saw her after 1878; and I went to her house and saw her alone—while she was at my house she used to get drunk at times—more than once she left home without her husband's leave while they lived with me—I don't know why she went away—sometimes she stayed away a fortnight—on one of those occasions she attempted to commit suicide by taking benzoline—she had been away, and the policeman had brought her home; it was during one of her intemperate time—she was always in a state of anxiety lest she should be brought dead to the police-station; he used to go and inquire at the police-station whether they had seen her, not knowing where she was—he was always kind to her as far as I knew.
Re-examined. I saw her for about twelve months—she has told me she has been very unhappy because her husband was rather gay, and went out with another woman, or she fancied he did—she did not speak about that more than once—I did not hear the name of the other woman, and never saw anyone.
EMILY BRIGGS . I am the wife of Thomas Briggs, and have lived at 72, Mina Road for about fifteen years—No. 70 is next door—I know the defendant and his first wife—they lived there ten or twelve years ago—I remember his wife going away on different occasions, and coming back—I think in 1880 she went away to stay—the prisoner remained in the house with his four children till 1884 Mrs. Ward came to the house on one or two occasions about 1883, and made a great disturbance outside and in the house—a woman was living in the house—we called her Sarah; I don't know her surname—I don't know if she slept with the prisoner; she was not the second wife—I was only the next-door neighbour—she stayed there six or seven months—the first wife came and made disturbances when the woman was there.
Cross-examined. I did not go in the house; my children used to—there were four rooms in it—the woman came to the house after Mrs. Ward had left—I don't know when it was—the prisoner had nobody else to look after the children—they were young children—as near as I can remember Mrs. Ward left her husband in 1880, about two years after they came to live there—I cannot say definitely whether it was 1881, 1882, or 1883 that she came and made a disturbance—I should think it was about 1883 she came the last time, but my memory is not sufficiently strong to depose to it accurately—I heard she went to St. Thomas's Home for Inebriates—I have heard that a policeman brought her home at one in the morning with delirium tremens I have heard that she attempted to commit suicide once or twice.
Re-examined. I said before the Magistrate that when Mrs. Ward went to the house a woman was living there—the prisoner and his children
left about 1884, and it was about a year before that that the woman came and created a disturbance—I think the youngest child must have been about twelve or thirteen, and the eldest eighteen or twenty—there were no children requiring to be nursed.
ELLEN WOOD . I am the wife of Ernest Wood, an engraver, and the daughter of the prisoner—when my father and mother separated in 1880 I remained for two years with my father at 70, Mina Road—my brother and sister were living there too—my mother was in service at Poplar as cook, and in 1883 I went into the same service as housemaid—I remained there till May, 1884 from 1883 till 1884 I was in the habit of seeing my father, brother and sister—in 18841 asked my father if I could leave the situation and come home, because my mother drank so, and he gave me leave, and I came home to 70, Mina Road at the beginning of May, 18841 remained there a few weeks, and then my brother, sister and myself went into apartments, and my father left the place—that was about the end of May—I don't know where he went to; we always wrote to his place of business—he used to come and see us—at first we saw him every night, and up to the present time I have seen him continually—after I left the service where my mother was cook I went to see her once—she used to come to see us at our apartments, but we never told our father she came—she never saw our father—she remained in the same situation till August, 1884 she continued to visit us until about a month before this case was brought—my father had seen me continually up to the present time—I did not know my father was married a second time until this case.
Cross-examined. Our father supported us—he has been mother and father both to us—our mother was of intemperate habits, and a great trouble to me and our father—he was always very kind to her, as far as I know—she attempted to commit suicide on two or three different occasions—she went to St. Thomas's Home for Inebriates about 1879.
Re-examined. I remember mother coming to Mina Road when father was living there, and insisting on staying in the house; that was when Dobbie was there, about 1881 or 1882 Dobbie ceased to live there when I came home in May, 1884 she had lived thereabout twelve months I should think—mother never complained of her living there.
ELIZA STAPLEY . I live at 12, Portland Place—on 16th August, 1884, I was married to the prisoner—I made his acquaintance three or four months before at a dance—I was living at York Road, Lambeth—we went out once or twice as friends; I did not know whether he was married or single—I was a widow—I had no children, but I have three now by him—after I had known him about a fortnight I told him I was a widow, and never wished to get married again, and he told me he was a widower—we went out, and he courted me—I asked him once about his first wife, and he said he had seen a great deal of trouble with her, and had been ruined several times, and he had taken her out of different Police-courts, and she was a great drunkard, and he had to be mother and father both to his children—I knew he was living at Mina Road—I went there once—I knew nothing about Dobbie, or any woman here—he told me his daughter kept house—he did not tell me how long he had been a widower; he said he had not lived with his wife for ten year—she said he had recognised her body in a mortuary—he did not
say where the mortuary was, or when it was he recognised her, or when she died; I did not ask, he was upset at the time—he told it to me about two months before I married him—he did not say when he had last seen her alive, and I had no knowledge of that, or when she died.
Cross-examined. I understood he had not lived with her as his wife for ten years—I did not ask the particulars of her death—I believed his wife was dead, and I thought he believed it—I have lived with him constantly since 1884; he has always behaved very kindly to me and been all a man should be, and he is very fond of his children—I did not start this prosecution against him.
Re-examined. I have heard him say he has seen his children on different occasions; I did not know their mother was in the habit of seeing them up to a month ago—I have seen them, but did not know them to speak to—he told me his first wife was so disfigured he could scarcely recognise her, but he was quite sure it was she, and I believed him.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his wife's miserable behaviour. Four Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT. Friday, October 24th, 1890.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
WILLIAM SMITH . I keep the Dolphin beerhouse, St. Clement's Road—on September 6th the deceased, Charles Green, was in there—the prisoner came in and had a bottle of soda-water—he afterwards called for a half-pint of ale, and said, pointing to Green, "He will pay for it"—I served him with the ale, Green refused to pay for it, but pulled it up and drank it—I did not hear any words, but a few minutes afterwards I saw the deceased sparring up to the prisoner in a fighting attitude—I saw the prisoner strike him on one side of the face—I could not say if Green had struck the prisoner before that—the effect of the blow was that Green fell backwards, half in and half out of the door, and struck his head on the flagstone—she did not move afterwards—it is a small bar.
SARAH BURKE . I am single, and live at 44, St. Clement's Road, Nottingdale—on September 6th I was in the Dolphin with Green, and I saw the prisoner there—Green and the prisoner had a few words; it was not a quarrel—the prisoner asked Green to give him a half-pint of ale, and he called for a half-pint, but Green picked it up and drank it, and the prisoner seemed to get cross about it—Green got in a fighting attitude and struck the prisoner a blow on the side of the face—the prisoner struck him back in the face, and caught him by the neck and threw him backwards out of the door—his head struck the pavement—I did not go out—Green had had a drink, but he was a long way from being drunk—he was not rolling about—the prisoner was not drunk; he had had a drop.
WILLIAM THRUSSLE (Police Sergeant X 42). At a quarter to seven on 6th September I went to the Dolphin, and I saw the deceased fall through the door of the beerhouse on to the flagstones, his head striking
the stones—Ford was pointed out to me as the man who had pushed him—he said to me, "He struck me; I struck him, when he fell down"—I returned to the deceased and found him still insensible, vomiting—I sent for the ambulance and took him to the hospital, where the doctor pronounced him dead—another constable took the prisoner into custody, and he was taken to the police-station—I was present when he was charged.
GEORGE JENKINS (Police Inspector X). I was present at the station when the prisoner was taken into custody and charged with causing the death of Charles Green by striking him a blow in the face and knocking him down—he said, "Anything I have to say I will say to the Magistrate."
JAMES WILLIAM BROWN (Surgeon). I live at 7, Norland Place—on 6th September, about half-past 7 p.m., I was called to the Nottingdale Police Station—I saw Charles Green there—he has recently died—I made a post mortem examination on the 9th I found marks of a blow under the left eye, and marks of vomit over his clothes, and a wound at the back of his head, which did not expose the bone—on reflecting the scalp I found a fracture of the skull, very slight—on opening the head I found the fracture was complete, passing through the bone, but no hemorrhage round it, and no damage to the brain substance—I found all the organs healthy till I came to the lungs, and there I found the windpipe was distended and choked with undigested food—the wound I saw on the back of the head might have been caused by a fall on the flags—the cause of death was the choking of the windpipe and lungs by food—the man had vomited; the vomiting was the first stage of the reaction after the concussion of the brain—the blow on the back of the skull would cause vomiting as he came to; he was really coming to, but was not sufficiently conscious to open his mouth wide and let all the food pass out (some had come out, which I had seen on his clothes), and then the man had drawn in the vomit, and that had caused suffocation, and that had caused the death.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that the man struck him first, and that he struck him back in self-defence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
ALICE POWELL . The prisoner is my husband—I live at 4, St. Katherine's Road, Notting Hill—on September 21st I took out a summons against him at the Police-court; he was not aware that I had done so—before September 29th he was aware of it—early on Sunday morning, the 28th, I returned home; I could see that my husband had just woke up out of a very drunken, mad sleep; he was getting out of bed—he then shut the door and said, "I have got you"—he rushed about the room, and then rushed to the fender, where the chopper was; that was the first thing he could take up, and he hit me with it on the head—I could not say with what part of it—this is the chopper—I said to him, "Oh, Jack, what have you done?"—he said, "Oh, Alice, come to the station with me"—I ran out of the room, and ran to the station, and I believe he ran after me; he was at the station when I got there
he also cut me in the middle of the hand with the chopper; he also struck me on the shoulder—he had been drinking all day long—at the time he struck me I do not think he was sober—I hope you will have great mercy on him for the sake of myself and my children.
JOHN ROBERTS (Police Inspector X). On September 28th, about a quarter-past two a.m., the last witness came to the station; the prisoner was following her—she was bleeding from a wound on the head and hand—I said to her, "What is this?"—she said, pointing to the prisoner, "This is my husband, he did it with a chopper"—the prisoner said, "Yes, that is right, I did, I mean to tell the truth; I meant killing her; I thought I should cop her"—he was sober, I am quite sure of that—he was taken into custody—I sent another officer to go to their room.
Prisoner. I never said that at all. Witness. He did say it; I wrote it down at the time.
GEORGE GERMAN (Police Sergeant X 36). I took the prisoner into custody—I went to the front parlour of 4, St. Katherine's Road—I found the room in great disorder; there were blood stains on the bed, the floor, and in the washhand basin—I found this chopper lying on the floor by the fireplace—I took it to the station, and the prosecutrix recognised it as the weapon used by the prisoner—there were blood stains on the handle and on the blade, with hair adhering to the blade.
JAMES DUFF HILLER . I am a surgeon of St. Ann's Road, Notting Hill—I examined the prosecutrix at three o'clock on Sunday morning, 28th September—she had a very severe incised wound on the top of the head towards the left side—it had been bleeding very profusely—there was a fracture of the skull—the wound was two or three inches long—on the left hand I found rather a gaping wound about three inches long—I stopped the bleeding; it severed several vessels of the hand—I saw the chopper that morning—I saw blood and hair on it; it was recent blood—the wounds could have been caused by such an instrument—she was in great danger for two or three days.
GUILTY of attempting to Murder. Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
JAMES BATCHELOR . I am the prisoner's son—on 23rd September, about a quarter to twelve at night, I was in the next room in bed and asleep at 96, Northampton Street, Clerkenwell—I was awoke by hearing my mother screaming out for me—I rushed to go into the other room, and met my mother coming out of the front room bleeding from a wound in her throat—I saw her go downstairs, calling for the police—she was holding a towel to her neck—I then went into the bedroom and dressed myself—I then went into the other room where my father was sitting alone, the room where they slept—I did not say anything to him, or he to me.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was a little aggravation between them, I don't exactly know what about.
in the Swan, we went from there to the Thornhill, and we each had two glasses of ale there—I then went home, went to bed, and went to sleep—I was awoke by my husband, and felt a strangling like across my throat; he was standing by my side with a razor in his hand—I put up my hand and cut my finger—I said, "What have you done?"—he did not answer me—I new to the door and called my son, and "Murder"—my husband wiped the razor on the tablecloth and on his trousers, and threw it under the bed—I ran downstairs and called "Murder" and "Police" at the street door, and the police came to me—my husband had had drink, and he is not right in his head when he has taken a glass, and is not answerable for his head; it was from a fall from his house, 37 feet high—he had his head smashed to pieces and his wrist, and was taken to the Great Northern Hospital—since then he has not been right, the least little drink he takes he is not able to control himself; he is not able to earn money to keep his home, and that has preyed upon him; even change of weather has a great effect upon him—I have given him great aggravation when he has come home late a little worse for drink—I have put on my things and gone out and left him—scarcely a day passed but we had words—this same evening when he came out of the Swan I abused him, but we had no words after we came home.
Cross-examined. I have not been out with another man—the first of my aggravation was when you went away from me and my children nine weeks, and since then I have not been happy with you.
PETER LEVY (G 473). At a quarter to twelve on September 23rd I was on duty in Northampton Street, Clerkenwell; my attention was attracted by screams and cries of "Police"—I found Mrs. Batchelor standing at the door, bleeding profusely from a wound in the throat—she made a statement to me—I then went into the house, and up to the bedroom—I then saw the prisoner sitting on the bed—I told him I should take him to the station for what his wife told me, cutting her throat with a razor—he said he did not do it—I asked if he knew where the razor was—he said he did not—I searched the room and found this razor under the bed—the prosecutrix said that was the razor he had done it with, and wiped it on his trouser—she again said he did not do it—I looked at his trousers, and found a large stain of blood on the leg of his trousers.
JOSEPH CAPP (Police Inspector G). The prisoner was brought to the station accompanied by the prosecutrix; she charged him with having attempted to murder her by cutting her throat with a razor—he replied that lie had received great aggravation and provocation, that he did not cut her throat, but that she did it herself in attempting to struggle with him—he said he had not wiped the razor on his trousers—I read the charge over to him; he made no further answer—I sent for Dr. Miller, and then went to the prisoner's room—I found stains of blood on the floor in various places, also on a tin clothes-box, as if some person had wiped their hands on it—the room was in a very disordered state, as if a struggle had taken place—there were stains of blood on one of the sheets.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am a surgeon, of Percy Circus, Clerken well—I was called to King's Cross Police-station, and found the prosecutrix there—she was suffering from an incised wound three inches long, along the left side of the neck, penetrating through the superficial muscles and severing them and the nerves; the carotid and jugular
veins were laid open—it was about an inch deep; it was a most serious wound, and in a most dangerous position; if it had been deeper it would undoubtedly have been fatal—it could have been inflicted by this razor—there was also an incised wound on the left hand half way round the finger—I accompanied the inspector to the house, and found the room as he has described—the prisoner was very drunk when charged.
Prisoner's Defence. I have had great aggravation from my wife for the last two years. She has been out with Jack Simmonds, and has not returned till eleven at night, and when I spoke to her about it she said it had nothing to do with me, that she liked Simmonds, and would do as she liked. On this very night I saw her with another man come out of the Thornhill together, and she abused me, and again at home. I was so aggravated with grief and jealousy I did not know what I did. I am very sorry indeed.
JOSEPH CAPP (Recalled). I know nothing further of the matter than that the prisoner is under recognisance to keep the peace for assaulting his wife—I know nothing of his having had a serious accident—he is lame.
The Prisoner. My leg was broken in three places from a fall, the marks are there still.
DR. MILLER (who at the request of the COURT retired with the Prisoner and examined him). I find a fracture of the middle third of his right thigh, and shortening of the bone of an inch and a half—it must have been a severe fracture; I also found a large cicatrix of old standing over the left eye, and another at the back of the head, which indicated severe injury—he complained also that the accident had disabled his jaw, and that it was fractured, but I cannot discover that, it may have been so—I am unable to say whether those injuries would incapacitate him if he drank; the injury to the head was not very severe—jealousy, when under the influence of drink, would excite the passions.
ROSE BATCHELOR (Recalled). I have had words with my husband about Simmonds; my husband brought him to our place and treated him as a brother; he allowed me to go to the Meat Market with him, as he was not able to go himself—there was nothing improper between us—he has complained about it lately—he hit me over the head with a stick, and was bound over to keep the peace—he has a great spite against Simmonds ever since, and he has drank a great deal since he has been out of work—the accident occurred about seven years ago; he jumped off a house, and it was brought in delirium tremens ever since then he has not been able to bear as much liquor as before.
Prisoner. My wife has been very good to me ever since; she has been to see me every day in Holloway. I will leave off drink, and I hope for the future we shall lead a happier life.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. One Month without Hard Labour.
NEW COURT. Saturday, October 25th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
SIR E. CLARKE (Solicitor-General) and MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted; MR. PURCHLL Defended. CLARA ELIZA MORRISH. I am one of the counter clerks at the East-cheap post-office—this telegram form, numbered 631, was handed to me by a man—I know the prisoner's face, but I don't remember his handing the telegram to me—I stamped the number 631 on it with the machine, counted the words, and put on sixpence; filled in the post-office, and put on it "A K R," which is the code time for 1.51, and I initialled the telegram and obliterated the stamp—I do not remember seeing the man go out—after he had handed me the message, Cartwright spoke to me, and in consequence of what he said I took, this copy of the message, "A. K. R., Jackson, High Street, Sunderland, 631, despatched 1.54. Faust good. Am writing"—I handed the message to a clerk to enter on the counter slip—this form is not now in the state in which I received it—it is now, "Pratt, Spitalfields. Five pounds each way on Ormuz"—it was not like that when I sent it—after the clerk had entered it on the counter slip it would be sent to St. Martin's-le-Grand by pneumatic tube.
FREDERICK CARTWRIGHT . I am employed to assist in the detective department of the Post Office—on Saturday morning, 4th October, I saw the prisoner leave his house at Stratford about 12.30he walked to Bow Bridge, and took an omnibus to the Bank, where he got off—he walked down King William Street and Cannon Street, and stopped opposite a telegraph office, but did not go in there—then he turned back, and went to the East-cheap post-office—he stood outside a short time, and walked inside—I went in too, and saw him writing at a desk on a telegraph form, which he handed in; I saw him stamp it—he left the place—I immediately spoke to Miss Morrish, who had taken it in, and I saw her copy it—a constable had been with me, during part of the morning at all events.
Cross-examined. Only Scott was with me in East-cheap, he came into the post-office too—neither of us followed the prisoner—no one else was watching the post-office, and I don't know what became of the prisoner after that.
MARGHERETTA BURCHELL . I am one of the counter clerks at the East-cheap post-office, and I was on duty there on 4th October, about the middle of the day—I received this form from Miss Morrish—I looked at the number, and entered on this counter-slip, "Sunderland, 631"then I handed the telegram to a messenger, who put it through the pneumatic tube—the word "Sunderland" on the counter-slip means it was to be delivered in the town of Sunderland.
FREDERICK WILLIAM BATE . I am a senior telegraphist at the Central Telegraph Office—on 4th October I was on duty there, and in consequence of instructions I looked specially at one or two telegrams—I made this note of telegram No. 631, received from East-cheap, "A. K. R., East-cheap, 631, Jackson, High Street, Sunderland"—the telegram 631 was addressed to Jackson, High Street, Sunderland, when it came into my hands—in the course of business the message would go to the centre table to be sent out to the division F, Sunderland being in that division, and it did so go—if it had been addressed to a place within the metropolis it would not have gone to the centre table, but to the metropolitan
gallery—if it had gone to the F division it would be kept there with the other forms after being telegraphed—I searched those forms; there was no 631 from East-cheap there the prisoner was formerly employed in the telegraph department.
Cross-examined. The centre table is in the basement at St. Martin's-le-Grand telegrams coming by pneumatic tubes arrive in the centre hall down stairs, and are received by the tube attendant, and sorted down there into metropolitan and provincial, and then the provincial telegrams come to my table, and the metropolitan go direct to the metropolitan gallery—the provincial having come to my table are sorted into their respective divisions at the centre tables—a message from its arrival in the basement to its being signalled by the operator would pass through about four hands, or it may be more.
Re-examined. "When the message came to me it was still addressed to Sunderland—it would go from me direct to the centre table, and from the centre table to the F division, at which it would be telegraphed to Sunderland.
CHRISTOPHER ELPHICK . I am a telegraphist employed at the Central Post Office—on 4th October I was on duty—I received the telegram from the Kempton Park Racecourse wire, giving the result of the October Handicap, which had just been run, at eight minutes past two—I wrote the message, "October Handicap, Ormuz, Westminster, Dover; 7 ran"—those were the first three horses—I wrote about four of those messages in duplicate on manifold for distribution at other wires.
Cross-examined. I am in a different room to the room where operators telegraph to Sunderland, but on the same floor—I daresay it is fifty yards off, going through about three rooms—I should say about thirty officers were employed in my room on this occasion—I was not the only officer attending to the Kempton Park Racecourse wire; there are several wires all in the room I was in.
Re-examined. I wrote several copies of this news to send to different places in the country as well as town—those I wrote would go to the centre table for distribution to the places to which they belonged if they were for the provinces.
FLORENCE MAUD MATTHEWS . I am employed at the Central Telegraph Office—on 4th October I was engaged at the centre check table from twelve o'clock till four—in the ordinary course all messages from the central hall for the F division should come to my table by tube—"F" comprises towns in the North of England—Sunderland is placed in it between twelve and four I should think about a hundred officers were employed in that division—this form 631 I have endorsed on the right-hand corner "Not centre, 2.11" that means the time it was brought back to the central table—when it was so brought back the address, "Pratt, Spitalfields," was on it—it had been sent from the centre table and wrongly circulated somewhere, and then it was brought to my table, but I could not say from whence it came—a telegram for Spitalfields should not come to my table at all, but should go to the metropolitan gallery—after I had endorsed it I placed it in a box for circulation to the metropolitan gallery—I did not see this other endorsement "Not C. 2.10" when I sent it up to the metropolitan gallery—I should infer from it that it had been wrongly circulated to the C division.
Cross-examined. When I found it on my table it was at the place where
it would be distributed by the boy who circulates them from the tube—they are placed from the tube on a table in bundles, and somebody has to sort them from the bundles—I should assist in sorting them—the first I saw of 631 was on the table, and it was then a metropolitan telegram—"C" is a provincial division—there might have been perhaps five persons employed at the table I was at.
Re-examined. I found this under my hand while I was doing my duty of sorting telegrams.
ISABEL LOUISE GILL . I am employed at the Central Office, in the metropolitan gallery—I wrote these letters "NFE" on the back of this message 631 they mean Norton Folgate—the message would be sent to Norton Folgate for transmisson to Spitalfields.
WILLIAM KIRBY . I am employed at the metropolitan gallery of the Central Telegraph Office—this telegram 631 I signalled on October 4th to Norton Folgate at 2.20 the wording of it was "five pounds each way on Ormuz. "
WALTER CECIL PRIDEAUX . I am employed at the Norton Folgate branch office—at 2.20 on the afternoon of 4th October I wrote out this message, which I received on the wire from the head office—it was "Pratt, Spitalfields, five pounds each way on Ormuz; Miller—"I sent it out by messenger from the office.
JOHN EDWIN PRATT . I do business at 8, Crispin Street, Spitalfields—I am a licensed victualler, but not there—I am a bookmaker—I have a customer, Mr. Miller, of 5, Crooked Lane—I have accepted bets from him by telegraph—I have an arrangement with him by which if I received a telegram with a bet on it ten minutes before the race I should regard it as a binding bet on which I should pay—on Saturday, 4th October, I received this telegram about half-past two—the race had been run half an hour before that—the result was known 25 minutes before—on Monday, 6th October, the prisoner came to my house, St. Stephen's Road, Old Ford, with Mr. Miller and another gentleman, about eight in the evening—I had arranged to be out when they came, and I did not come in till a quarter past twelve at night—I then told Miller in the prisoner's presence that there was a mistake in the telegram, that it was sent after time, and that I returned it—Miller said he could not understand it; that there were others outstanding, and I said I would settle it next day—there was another matter before this of £35 outstanding—if I had accepted this as a binding bet I should have had to pay £43 15s. I promised to meet him next day at two o'clock to come to an arrangement—he did not mention any other persons then as being interested; he had on previous occasions told me he wanted the £35 settled, because there were three to divide it.
Cross-examined. The only time I ever saw the prisoner was at a quarter past twelve on the Monday night at my public-house, Old Ford—our conversation was in the saloon bar, which is not large—I did not go inside the bar but stood in the public part of the house not far from the counter—Miller was close to me—the prisoner and the other man were sitting down, no distance off—the bar is about the length of the jury box—the prisoner sat by the side of the fireplace; he was not at another counter—I was in the middle as near as possible—there were about a dozen more people in the compartment talking and drinking in the usual way—our conversation only took a few minutes—I had never seen the man who
was with the prisoner before—Miller I had known twelve or eighteen months—I have done a slight betting business with him; not a great deal.
AUGUST BRONNER MILLER . I carry on business as A. B. Miller, tailor and outfitter, at Crooked Lane—I have known Mr. Pratt about two years—I have known the prisoner about three weeks—I have had some betting transactions with Pratt—there was an arrangement between us, by which if a bet were sent by telegram ten minutes before the race Mr. Pratt would pay on it—the prisoner was first introduced to me in a public-house in Bow by a man named Saunders, who said, "This is a friend of mine; there is no doubt you will see him again, and he will bring messages for me about horse racing"—the following day I saw the prisoner; I had given him an order the night before to send me £3 each way on Spring Cup for myself; he told me he had sent the message—on Thursday, 2nd October, I saw him; he said he sent a message to Mr. Pratt, "£3 each way on Prince of Tyre"—I had not told him to send that; I thought it was sent by a man to whom I gave permission to send it—the prisoner asked me if I would like to stand in with it—I said, "No," I had booked it already—on Saturday afternoon, the 4th October, the prisoner came to me about twenty minutes past two, I should think, and said, "I have sent a message to Pratt, £5 each way on Ormuz—"I think he said he had sent it about ten minutes to two—he asked me about the £35 disputed telegram on "Barberina"—I said, "You had better come round to Pratt's on Monday night to hear what he says about it; he has not settled it yet"—I met him on Monday; I had been to Pratt's, and Pratt was out—I told the prisoner he had better come round about eleven o'clock, as Pratt was out, and was not expected home till late—I saw the prisoner and Saunders there at eleven o'clock—Pratt was not in—I said we had better adjourn it till next day—Saunders, I think, said, "We had better wait"—the prisoner heard that, and I think he fell in with the idea—we waited till Pratt came in—Pratt said, "There is 'Barberina' to be settled next day"—he said he had a letter from the General Post Office; and the Ormuz telegram he had sent back on account of its being too late—I said I would inquire next morning and see if it was in the East-cheap post-office, because I could not understand it—I knew the telegram had been sent from East-cheap, because the prisoner told me he had sent a telegram from East-cheap—this is one of my business cards; on the back of it is written, "Evans, The Chimes, Woollet Street, Poplar"—I gave this card to the prisoner on Monday, October 6th I gave him the address, which he wrote on the back, I think—it is the address of another bookmaker, "Evans, the Chimes'—I had an arrangement about telegraphing bets with him, and I have sent telegrams to him for some time—he would accept a telegram if sent a quarter of an hour before a race.
Cross-examined. I know a man named Harry; I know him by no other name—I have not seen him for some weeks—Harry introduced me to Saunders about 24th September, and Saunders introduced the prisoner to me on 30th September as a man who would bring messages to me from Sounders and Harry—I have not seen Saunders lately; both he and Harry have disappeared—I think the bet on Spring Cup was my suggestion; it was supposed it was to be between us; Harry as a rule had been standing in with Saunders—Saunders suggested the bet on
Spring Cup on 30th September, the night I was introduced to the prisoner—the next afternoon the prisoner came and told me the message had been sent—I understand it had been sent as from Saunders and Harry—they were persons whom I allowed to use my name in communications with Pratt, and I was told after a telegram had been sent that such a message had been sent to Pratt on such and such a horse—when the prisoner came, and told me a message had gone about the Prince of Tyre, I understood the message was not his own, but came from Harry and Saunders—they sent to me because I wanted to know what had been bet—when the prisoner conveyed the message about the Prince of Tyre he asked whether I wished to stand in—the Prince of Tyre lost—when the prisoner told me on 4th October that a message had gone to Pratt, "Ormuz, £5 each way," I understood it to be a message from Harry or Saunders, or both; Harry as a rule it was—it was a communication to me from Harry that such a bet had been made by telegram with Pratt, and the prisoner told me Harry wanted to know when to meet me for the purpose of settlement; no name was mentioned, but I understood it was with regard to Barberina—I understood either Saunders or Harry would be there—I regarded the prisoner as the messenger of Harry and Saunders, mostly of Harry—the Post Office have been looking for Harry and Saunders for some time—nothing was said on the Monday about where the prisoner met Saunders—the prisoner did not tell me that Harry had told him to meet Saunders at the Eagle and go on to Pratt—I knew nothing about that arrangement—I do not know if a horse "Faust" was running at Kempton Park on the day of the October Handicap—when Pratt made an objection about Barberina and other telegrams, Saunders asked me the name of another bookmaker, and then I gave the name of Evans, the Chimes, and I think the prisoner wrote it down; I did not write it.
He-examined. I did not know Barry's surname nor Saunders's christian name, nor the residence of either of them.
JOHN SCOTT . I am a police constable attached to the General Post Office—on October 4th I was with Cartwright—I saw the prisoner go in and out of the East-cheap office—on the 7th I was at the General Post Office when Mr. Settle, of the confidential branch, had an interview with the prisoner—I heard the prisoner say, "I did not go into the East-cheap office"—I searched and found on the prisoner these two pieces of paper—on one is, "From Miller to Pratt, Spitalfields," and on the other side is, "Miller, 5, Crooked Lane, King William Street"—on the other piece of paper is written, "Jackson, High Street, Su.—"Su." means Sunderland—I also found on him this printed card of Miller with the writing on the back.
Cross-examined. I was one of the officers who apprehended the prisoner—I took him from his house about ten; Mr. Settle was with me—I had a slight conversation with the prisoner in his house—those papers were found at his house—Jack—son, Su., and Evans, The Chimes, are in the same writing—Miller to Pratt is in a different writing—we got the prisoner to the Post Office at half-past eleven—we had no conversation about this matter on the way—at the Post Office we had conversation about it from half-past eleven, with lengthy intervals, till two o'clock next morning, and after that he was put into the hands of the Metropolitan Police—it was not suggested to him that if he gave information as to
who were concerned in these frauds he would he dealt with leniently—in one of the intervals Miller was fetched down—I did not hear any statement taken from him—I did not after wards hear a paper read over by Settle to him—it was at the beginning of the inquiry, about midday, that the prisoner said he handed in no telegram, and was not at the office—towards the close of the inquiry he said he was to have a sovereign for sending it off—no one but Settle cross-examined the prisoner—I was only present—other officers would be in and out, but they were not present—I have heard of Harry and Saunders—I have been looking for them, but I have failed to find them.
Re-examined. I was not present all through the conversation, but from time to time—so far as I heard Settle made no promise, or offered inducement to the prisoner.
JAMES SETTLE . I am a clerk in the confidential inquiry branch of the Post Office—I make inquiries in cases of suspected or ascertained fraud, and especially with regard to persons employed in the Post Office—on 4th October I was communicated with about this matter—I made inquiries—on 7th October I went to the prisoner's house with Scott—I had a conservation with, the prisoner—I told him who I was, and said I had been instructed to see him concerning a number of telegrams which had been irregularly treated in course of transmission through the Central Telegraph office and that I was informed on Saturday, just about two o'clock, he handed in a telegram at the East-cheap branch office; would he furnish me with particulars of it—he said, "I have handed in no message; I did not hand in any message on Saturday—"I wrote down my questions and his answers at the time—it was not a continuous conversation, but occasionally during the day I asked some questions of him these are my notes. (These notes were then read as follows: "I said, 'You were followed by this detective officer and another person from your own home to East-cheap on Saturday, and you were seen to hand in a telegram there, one of the persons who had followed you being inside the office with you, let me caution you that I shall take down your statement in writing. Scott interposed and said, 'And it may be used in evidence against you. He said, 'I don't think I went to East-cheap on Saturday.' I asked if he objected to be searched; he said, 'No.' He was searched by Scott, who handed me a number of papers taken from the prisoner's coat pocket; among them I found the two pieces of paper and card produced. I showed these to Ives, and said I should take possession of them. We then went to the General Post Office. After we arrived there I said to Ives, 'You see this paper found in your possession, on which is written, "Jackson, High Street, Su. "I may tell you that the telegram which you handed in on Saturday afternoon was so addressed. The text read "Faust good, am writing," but after the telegram reached the Central Telegraph office the message was delayed by some one until after the result of the October Handicap at Kempton Park was known (say about 2.10). All your original message was then erased, and a fresh message written out on the same form addressed to "Pratt, Spitalfields," and which read thus, "Five pounds each way on Ormuz; Miller. "Ormuz won the race. The message was not signalled to Norton Folgate for delivery until 2.20. Amongst other papers found upon you is this, on which appears the address, "Pratt, Spitalfields," and also the business card
of Mr. A. B. Miller, tailor; what do you say to this?' He said, 'I have nothing to say only what I said before. 'I said, 'Do you know a man named Pratt, a bookmaker of Spitalfields?' He said 'No.' I said, 'Do you know this Mr. A. B. Miller, whose card was found upon you?' He said 'Yes.' I said, 'What is your connection with him?' 'None.' 'How do you come to be in possession of his card?' 'I need not answer unless I like, I suppose?' 'Certainly not. When did you last see Mr. Miller?' Yesterday.' 'What business did you have with him?' 'I didn't have any business with him.' 'What time did you see him?' 'Yesterday evening about nine. "Where?'" Mile End Road. I didn't speak to him. I saw him with a friend of his.' 'Who was the friend?' 'I don't know. I was with his friend afterwards. I spoke to him, but I don't know who he is.' 'Now, Ives, you are an old telegraphist. I put it to you whether you ever knew a telegram to be altered as this one has been by any accident or mischance, allowing for every possible error in transmission?' 'No; I have never known a message to be so altered.' 'Then what explanation do you offer?' 'I have no explanation at all. I simply say I know nothing at all about it.' Miller then identified him as one of three persons who had been in communication with him respecting the sending of telegrams to Mr. Pratt. I read over to him the statement which I had taken down in writing from Mr. Miller, and said, 'Do you dispute that?' He said, 'No; not so far as that goes. I don't dispute that.' I said, 'Who is Saunders?' He said, 'I don't know; he is an ostler, or something of the sort in the City.' I said, 'Who's Harry?' He said, 'I don't know, but if you can find him he can tell you more about how this is done than I can.' I said, 'You must know who he is?' He said, "I don't; all I know is, that I was to hand in this message, and I was to get a sovereign for doing it")that is a full substantial note of the conversation.
Cross-examined. I made inquiries on the part of the authorities to get at the bottom of these frauds—I did not suggest to the prisoner that if he gave information to assist the Post Office the Court would have regard to it—his brother would not be suspended at that time—I think I said his brother was under suspicion—I did not say he would be dealt with leniently if he owned to the persons with whom he had been in collusion, or words to that effect—Scott was occasionally in the room when I was talking—all our conversation is in these notes—I asked him for a specimen of his handwriting, and he gave it to me—I have Compared the specimen he wrote before me, with the memorandum, "Jackson, High Street, Su.," on the piece of paper found on him, and I find they are in the same writing; so that the Jackson, Su., must be in his writing—I believe the other paper, Miller to Pratt, is in a different writing—he told me he was to have a sovereign for sending the message—about two o'clock early on Wednesday morning the prisoner was handed over to the police.
GUILTY . Judgment respited.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended. ERNEST HAROLD WILLS. I am clerk to Mr. J. W. Stocker, solicitor, of
Fenchurch Street—I produce a certified copy of the proceedings in Burt, Boulton and Haywood, against William Watkins, in the City of London Court—in that action for collision the owners of the barge Elizabeth were the plaintiffs, the owners of the tug Australia the defendants; it was an action for damages, and was tried on 5th March, in the City of London Court, before Mr. Commissioner Kerr—the prisoner gave evidence for the plaintiff—she is a lighterman, and was master of the barge Elizabeth Bevan, the mate of the Elizabeth, gave evidence for the plaintiffs, and so did George Avey and Charles White—I was present at the trial, and heard the evidence of Rumley, Avey and White—I heard White and Avey say they were navigating the barge Mary, belonging to Mr. Lander, on the night of the collision, and that they passed the tug Australia, and her riding light was out, and that they hailed those on board.
Cross-examined. A new trial was ordered—the second trial took place, and resulted in the same verdict, for the plaintiffs, as the first trial—White and Avey were not called on the second trial, but otherwise the same witnesses as were called at the first trial, Rumley, Bevan and Joyce, were called, and their evidence was the same.
Re-examined. The matter is still under appeal.
EDWIN GILBERT HOWELL . I am a shorthand writer, employed by Messrs. Hibbett and Saunders—I was present at the City of London Court on 5th March, when this trial took place, and took this shorthand note of the evidence—this is the transcript of my note; I have certified it, and I was sworn before I took it—it contains the evidence of Charles Rumley, who was the first witness called for the plaintiffs, and the evidence of George Avey and Charles Edward White.
GEORGE AVEY (in Custody). I am a lighterman, living at 12, Lockside, Narrow Street, Limehouse—I have known the prisoner seven or eight years; he is a lighterman—I have pleaded guilty to committing perjury at the City of London Court—when I was arrested I made a statement to the detective—I first knew that an accident had happened to Rumley's barge when he came up to me on Limehouse Cut Bridge, about three weeks, I should think, before I gave evidence—I had been out of work White was with me on the Cut Bridge—it was about a quarter to two—we were looking for work, and that bridge is where men stand to look for work—you can always find men there who want work; the place is well known—Rumley came up, and said, "Halloa, Jim; ain't you at work—I said, "No"—he said, "You can do with a quick half a quid, can't you?—"I did not say—said, "Come on, we will go over the Thames—"a public-house was right opposite—he said, "We will go and have a drink of beer"—White and Joyce went with us—I cannot say if Joyce was with the prisoner when he spoke to us; he was close to us—we had four half-pints of ale, and then walked to the station and came to Fenchurch Street, and then I said I could do with the half-quid, and said, "How am I to do it?"—he said, "Only to go up to the office and give a statement about my barge being sunk—"he told me the barge was sunk at the East India Dock buoy on 9th December, and he said how the tide flowed, about half-past two it was ebbing, and he said what time of the morning it was, and he said it was a dark and hazy night, and the wind was south-west, and the tugs at the East India Docks were lying six wide, the Australia lying outside with
no light up—he said we were to go up to the office and give a statement, and say we saw the tug lying there with no light up—he said, "Say you were going down with somebody's barge," and we said, "Whose barge was it?"—he said it did not matter whose barge it was, anybody's barge would do—I said, "We will say we had Lander's Mary"I had worked for Lander, and knew there was such a barge as the Mary the Mary was decided on—we were to say we got away from the Cut, close to where we saw Mr. Rumley, at high water; that would bring us to the East India Dock about half-past four, as the tide would be flowing about half-past two—he showed me a tide table book as to how the tide flowed that morning—I had not been on any barge Mary we did not know whether the Australia was lying there, or where she was, till he told us—he did not say there would be a law job—we went to Fenchurch Street Station and met Mr. Dobbinson there—he said to Rumley, "Are these the two?"—Rumley said, "No, they ain't the two, but they will do—"then we went to Burt's office, and from there to Mr. Fernfield's, the solicitor's—I made the statement which Rumley had told me to Mr. Fernfield; it was taken down; White heard my statement; we were all four there—we went back to Burt's office, and there I, White, and Joyce were given half-a-sovereign each—then we went away—up to the time I met Rumley on that day I knew nothing of the circumstances of the accident—some little time afterwards I got a subpoena to go to the City of London Court—I went there on 5th March with Rumley and White—I met Rumley on the Cut Bridge—no more money was paid me till after the law job was over—we came to the Court; Rumley gave his evidence; I heard him, and afterwards I gave mine, and told the story I have told to-day—it was untrue—White gave his evidence after mine—I got half-a-sovereign afterwards; I had had half-a-sovereign with the subpoena, so that I had three half-sovereigns—after I was arrested I made a statement about it—before this I had been blinded with sulphuric acid out of a barge.
Cross-examined. White is my stepson—when we met Rumley on the Cut Bridge Joyce was close behind him—Joyce was with Rumley when he first accosted us, and Joyce was there all the time, and quite near enough to hear what we and Rumley said—it was after we came out of the public-house, as we went towards Fenchurch Street, that Rumley gave us particulars of tide, time, and place—I don't remember that there was any talk of the circumstances of the accident in the public-house—Joyce was with me, Rumley, and White in the public-house, and he walked with us on the way to Fenchurch Street—he was quite close enough to hear all the talk between me and Rumley—at the trial I was in Court while Rumley gave evidence—I had been in conversation with Rumley and Bevan while waiting for the case to come on—Dobbinson was not in our company much—I made a statement to the police when I was apprehended—I am now in prison waiting sentence.
CHARLES EDWARD WHITE . I am a lighterman—I gave evidence in this case in the City of London Court—I was out of work, and I was on Limehouse Cut Bridge, where men wait to try and get work, when about mid-day Rumley beckoned me over and asked me if I was doing any work, and I said no, and he said, "You can do with an easy half quid, couldn't you?—"I said "Yes; what is it to do?"—he said, "You can say you went down with Avey on the same night our barge was sunk"—I said yes, and he told me how the tugs and barges were, and how the lights
were—he told me to say there were five lights up, and the outside one, the Australia, had no light—she told me how the tide was flowing, and that it was a dark and hazy night, and how the wind was—I forget now what he said about the wind—he said we were to have a high-water start from the Cut with this barge, and when we went by, to say we hailed out to them to put their light up, and to say we went down to the Victoria, or any where below; to say we went by the place—we made a proposition that we should be in Mr. Lander's barge, the Mary he gave us drink, and then we went to Fenchurch Street and met Burt's foreman there—he said to the prisoner, "These ain't the two men, are they?" and they started on walking on, and I did not hear any more—I went to the office, and from there to Mr. Fernfield's office—Avey made a statement there—Mr. Fernfield said, "As you were on the same barge with him, your statement will be the same"—I went back to Burt's office, where I got a half-sovereign—I got a subpoena, and went to the court with Avey and Rumley—he did not say anything about its coming into Court at first; if he had I should not have done it—he said before we had the subpoena that he did not think it would come to anything of that—I got half-a-sovereign with the subpoena, and after I gave evidence I got half-a-sovereign—I gave evidence—I was afterwards arrested, and I made a statement as to how it was I did this—I had been out of work and had done only little things since the strike; I owed fourteen weeks' rent.
Cross-examined. Joyce was with Rumley when he spoke to me—when he came and spoke to us he said he had only got to go to see his governor—Joyce was with us, and was in such a position that he must have heard everything he said we were to say about the tug and light and barge—on the way to Fenchurch Street, Rumley explained what we were to say—Rumley told us what lies to tell, and all he said Joyce heard from beginning to end—he could not help but hear it—he left us at the Horseferry Road—I heard all the evidence Avey gave in the City of London Court; I got into the witness-box afterwards—I, Rumley, and Avey had been talking about the case outside.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner twenty years I should think—as far as I know he bears a good character; I know nothing against him.
WILLIAM JOHN DOBBINSON . I am foreman of the works at Prince Regent Wharf, Silvertown, of Messrs. Burt, Boulton, and Heywood—from instructions received from my employers, I told Rumley to get evidence in the case of Burt and others against Watkins—he was captain of the barge that was sunk—I appointed to meet him at Fenchurch Street Station with his witnesses—he came there with Avey, White, and Joyce—I said, "Are those the two witnesses?" or something similar—he said, "No, but these will do as well"—Joyce was with them; they were all together—I took them to my employer, and then to Fernfield's—I had never seen these men before—I had told him to get his witnesses if he had any.
Cross-examined. After the accident it would be the prisoner's duty to report to me.
arrested White and Avey—they made statements to me; I reported to the Treasury authorities—I afterwards received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest—on 11th October I arrested him at Silvertown, and charged him with suborning these people to commit perjury—he said, "I did not go to Avey, Avey came to me. "
Cross-examine. I think I arrested Avey and White on 19th September.
CHARLES JOYCE (not examined in chief). Cross-examined. I am a lighterman, living at 8, Creek Side—I was on the Cut Bridge with Rumley, White, and Avey—I did not hear Rumley ask them to make a statement about the sinking of the barge—I heard no conversation between them about half a quid, or about their being on a barge on the right the barge was sunk—I cannot say I heard all that took place—I did not hear the prisoner ask White or Avey to come up and give false evidence for him—I went part of the way to Fenchurch Street with the three of them; I left them at Horseferry Road—I did not hear the prisoner explaining to Avey and White what lies they were to tell on the way—I do not believe that any such thing occurred as his trying to get them to come and give false evidence—I did not hear him ask them to come up.
Re-examined. I had a bad foot; I went to town by train—the prisoner met me by appointment, but by accident the first time—we talked about the accident—I told him I was standing on Blackwall Pier at half-past five in the morning, and there were only five lights—I went up and got my subpoena, and said I was on Blackwall Pier.
By the COURT. I cannot say exactly what they were talking about—there was some talk about tide and wind in general; not on any particular date.
By the JURY. Word was brought me, would I meet him on the Cut Bridge on this day to make a statement of what I knew with regard to this collision—I heard no conversation between them as regards the collision, or what statements they were to make.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said Avey came to him on the Cut Bridge, and said he had seen the boats there, and the outside boat had no light, he being in the "Mary," which struck the "Australia" with their port bow, and singing out to them, "Why don't you put your light up, or somebody else will be at you?" that he (the prisoner) said if he had, seen she had no light he could come and tell the foreman that Avey said White was with him on the barge, and he (the prisoner) told White to come with Avey, and that they gave their statements, that he did not to his belief speak to White at all, and that he did not know whether they were on the barge or not.
MR. PURCELL submitted that the only evidence against the prisoner was that of Avey and White, who were really accomplices, and who were not corroborated as to the material allegations. MR. GILL contended that they were corroborated by Mr. Lander, by their plea of guilty, and by Mr. Dobbinson; and that, moreover, Avey and White were not accomplices of the prisoner in the offence of subornation of perjury with which he was charged. The RECORDER considered that the case should go to the JURY.
GUILTY . Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT, Friday, October 24th, and
THIRD COURT, Saturday, October 25th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. FULTON and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. CALVERT Defended Stevens. GFORGE TIMMS. I live at Preston, near Harrow, and am a blacklead manufacturer—I hold a lease of 78, Stamford Street, Black friars—in February, 1889, I was seeking for a tenant, there was a notice in the window, and the prisoner Day called on me and said that he wanted the house for his wife and family and himself to live in; that he had a large family grown up, who worked in the City, and it would be handy for them to come home to dinner at midday—he said he was living at 16, Trinity Square, with his family, but said nothing about his wife—I let him the house for three years; he sent me three references by this letter: J. Sharp, Bow Social and Literary Club; Mr. Stevens, 30, Furnival Street, Holborn; and C. Mortimer, 34, Blackman Street, Borough—I wrote to them and received answers, this is Mr. Stevens' answer. (This stated that he had known Mr. Day some gears as a respectable man, and thought he would make a good tenant. Mr. Sharp's letter was to the same effect)I have mislaid Mr. Mortimer's letter—in consequence of those replies I executed this agreement, dated March 26th, to let the house unfurnished, at the yearly rent of £85 Stevens' letter influenced me in doing so—I did not get the first quarter's rent, though I asked for it repeatedly—Day said that his wife and family objected to come and live in the house, and he had let some of the rooms in unfurnished apartments—I got £10 from him at the beginning of October, when there were two quarters due—I called at the house every week; he was frequently there, although he did not live there—he had a lad in charge—three or four lodgers occupied the house, who had furnished their apartments—in October I received this letter. (From H. Day, stating that he would pay some day when his luck turned, and had left the key in the kitchen cupboard)I got the key from the lad shortly afterwards—Day left no address, and I did not see him again till he was arrested—more than £40 was due, and I only received £10, though he was taking money weekly from the lodgers; they showed me their receipts in his writing.
By the COURT. I kept the lodgers on, they are there still; they are very good lodgers.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. I did not see Stevens—the third
reference was satisfactory—as far as I am aware, Stevens was not aware of what happened in my house; I never communicated with him after the first inquiry—I took no means to find Day; I did not ask for his address when I took the key.
Re-examined. I took the keys from the lad; I went to Trinity Square, but could not find Day; I saw Mrs. Day—I receive about £100 a year from the tenants I have kept on—on the very first day that Day had possession he let the end of the house for advertising, at £25 a year, and took the money in advance—I was obliged to let them stop.
WILLIAM JOHN VINGO . I am a builder's foreman, and have been the tenant of 16, Trinity Square about eight years—Day's wife lived there with her so a by another husband named Hall—Stevens has never been my landlord; I never heard of him before this case—I sublet to Mr. Hall, the stepson, who is about twenty-two years of age, and is a clerk in the City.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. There were also three girls and another son there, children of the first husband—the son paid the rent—I do not know where he got it—Mr. Day also paid it.
WILLIAM BOGLE GOAL. I am a builder, of 241, Camberwell Road—Mrs. Caroline Goad, my aunt, is landlady of 230, Camberwell New Road—I manage the letting of that house for her—it was to let in 1889—a bill was posted, and Day came to me and said that he wanted to take it for his own occupation and that of his family, because it was within access of the City, where his family were engaged, and he did not intend to let any of it, except, perhaps, one room furnished—I agreed to that—he said he lived at 78, Stamford Street, and was a retired publican—he gave me as references the prisoner Stevens,-of 30, Furnival Street, and a Mr. Sladden, who is since dead, of the Pewter Platter, Hatton Garden—I sent my clerk to both those addresses to make inquiries, and in consequence of what he told me I agreed to let the house—this is the agreement signed by him, and I witnessed it. (Between Mrs. Caroline Goad and the prisoner Day, agreeing to let 230, Camberwell New Road, for three years at £46 a year)I had nothing to do with him afterwards, as the landlady collected her own rents—there is no truth in the statement that Stevens has ever been tenant of that house.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. I did not see Stevens—I did not go to Furnival Street with a lady—I have not been in that neighbourhood for years—I sent my clerk to Mr. Timms, of 78, Stamford Street—Day did not give him as a reference—I cannot say whether he said he was his landlord—it is not an invariable thing in letting a house to have the name of the last landlord—I did not write to Stevens and tell him what had happened—as far as I am aware, Stevens was quite ignorant of Day having my house in this way.
Re-examined. He did not mention that he had only paid £10 rent; if he had I should not have let him the house—I imagined from appearances that no one occupied the house.
By MR. CALVERT. Day did not do a lot of repairs to it to my knowledge; it was fully done up; a year's rent was spent on it.
WILLIAM STRACHAN SMITH . I am Mr. Goad's clerk—in October, 1889, he instructed me to go to 30, Furnival Street—I saw Stevens there; told him that Mr. Day had mentioned him as a reference, and said, "Do you think he is a proper tenant?'—'he said, "Tell Mr. Goad that Mr. Day
will make a good tenant for the house at the rent mentioned; he has been a tenant of mine at a house in Trinity Square, and has been a good tenant there, and I also knew him in the occupation of several public-houses. "
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. He did not say, "He has been a tenant of mine, and he is now residing at Trinity Square"—at this place in Furnival's Inn there were religious tracts in front of the house, and Stevens came from upstairs into the passage.
CAROLINE GOAD . I am a widow, of 3, Portland Road, Islington, and am landlady of 230, Camberwell New Road—the first quarter's rent became due at Christmas, 1889I wrote to the tenant, the prisoner Day, for it, and received this letter. (This was from Day, stating that he had been disappointed in money matters, and requesting the witness to wait till the half-quarter for her rent)I never saw Day, and never received any rent—I received this letter by post. (This was from Day. dated March 7, 1890, stating that through a great loss in business he was unable to pay the rent, but that the home was uninjured, as his family had never been able to remove there, and he had a caretaker in the house)I received the keys afterwards.
HERBERT JAMES COE . I have been about fifty years superintendent of the Members' waiting-room, House of Commons—I am the owner of 29, Alderney Street, Pimlico, which was to let last November, and there was a bill in the window—about November 21st Day called at my house, 88, Cambridge Street, Pimlico, and said he had been over the house and approved of it, and wanted ft for the occupation of himself and family—I do not know whether he mentioned his wife, but he said he had three sons and two daughters earning their bread in the City, and the house was convenient to Victoria Station—he said he was living at 230, Camberwell New Road, and should have lived there three years at Christina, 1889I told him the rent was £55 a year on a three years' agreement, and I should require good references, and one must be his landlord—he said he would think it over and let me know, and if he intended to take the house he would give me reference—she came again next day, and handed me this letter. (Offering to take the house on a term of three years, and referring to Mr. Stevens, 30, Furnival Street, Holborn, at two p.m., and Mr. Sladden, Pewter Platter, Charles Street, Hatton Garden)I said, "Two p.m. is rather too rapid," and he made an appointment with Mr. Stevens for 11.30 next day—I said, "You have given me the reference to your landlord?"—he said, "Yes"—I called next day at 11.30 at 30, Furnival Street; the ground floor is an institution of the Wesleyan body for religious tracts—I went along the passage, and Stevens came downstairs—I asked if he could tell me where I could find Mr. Steven—she said, "I am Mr. Stevens"—I said I had been referred to him by a tenant of his, Mr. Day, of 230, Camberwell New Road, for a reference, as he was going to take a house of mine; I mentioned the rent, and said, "Mr. Day states that you are his landlord"—he said, "I am"—I said, "Mr. Day tells me he has been in the occupation of that house for a year, and is leaving it in consequence of his term having expired"—he said, "That is so"—I said, "What sort of a tenant has he been?"—he said, "He is a very good tenant; he has paid his rent, and I had no difficulty in getting it, and I am very sorry to lose him as a tenant"—I was satisfied with that—we came out together, and I said, "As your reference is so satisfactory, I shall feel inclined to let him the house"—Stevens said
that the office in Furnival Street was very central and convenient for him; that he was engaged in several businesses; I came to the conclusion that he was a commission agent—he did not mention that he was living there with his family in one room, at 6s. 6d. a week—I never saw the room—I went to Mr. Sladden, at the Pewter Platter; he was seriously ill—I went again on Monday, and he was dead, but his wife spoke favourably of Mr. Day—I wrote to Day, and told him the references were satisfactory, and he should have the house—he executed this agreement, and this is the counterpart—if I had known that Stevens was not the landlord I should not have entertained the application for one moment—I was induced to execute the agreement by the satisfactory reference to the supposed landlord Stevens—after the agreement was signed Day asked me if I would give him immediate possession, as his house was so damp; he was anxious to get out as soon as possible, and I consented—nothing was said about lodgers; he said it was for him and his family—if I had known it was going to be let out in weekly tenements I would not have let the house to him—I gave him possession about 8 p.m. on Friday, and about 5.15 the same afternoon, in consequence of something which was said to me, I went there, and saw that a fire had been lighted in the kitchen, and I could see a tall lady, who I subsequently found was Mrs. Stevens—soon afterwards I found that there were lodgers in the house, one in the parlour and one on the first floor—I did not see Day there, but I went there to find him—I met him in Cambridge Street in the new year, and he told me he had some difficulty with some of the lodgers, and had got rid of them; I knew they were watching the house for some purpose—the people moved into the adjoining street, where they were only three day—sat Lady Day I wrote for my rent, and got this reply: "Dear Sir, I have just received your note, and shall not be able to settle with you till the half-quarter.—H. DAY. "I waited till the half-quarter, but got no rent—I never could find him—the rates were not paid, and the water was cut off—I have had to pay the water company for its reinstatement—on 13th June I found this letter in my letter-box—I had then seen Inspector Marshall. (This was from Day, regretting that he had been unable to pay the rent, owing to great losses, and that he had to clear the home of the lodgers rather than disgrace the house, and that he was entirely without means)the house was very dirty—I had spent nearly a year's rent on it, and had to do it again.
Cross-examined by Day. After you had been in the house about a month I sent you a letter, and said, "I want you to get out of my house at once"—you afterwards told me that in consequence of a disagreement your wife and her family would not live with you—I wrote to you in December, asking you to call on me at six o'clock, when I said to you, "I am sorry to find you have obtained possession of my house by misrepresentation; you told me you had lived at 230, Camberwell New Road, for three years, instead of which you had only been there a few weeks; you told me Mr. Stevens was your landlord, instead of which it is Mr. Goad, of Camberwell Road, and under these circumstances I must ask you to give up possession of my house"—you only said, "I must consult my solicitor"—I said, "I will give you till Friday to do so,' and I never saw you again—you did not say, "I did not say Mr. Stevens is my landlord, I said that he was. "
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. The house next door was also mine and has-been let to one tenant for thirteen years; he lets the first floor furnished—there have not been complaints to the police about it or I should have known it, as I am one of a committee which has special charge of those matters; two ladies lived there who went out every night to a public-house, and drove out every night in a Hansom's cab, but that is a matter over which I had no control—a lady tenant of mine was with me at the interview with Stevens—she is not here—I distinctly asked Stevens if he was landlord of 230, Camberwell New Road, and he said, "Yes"—I ascertained before Christmas that there were lodgers in the house, but did not write to Day and tell him he was breaking the agreement; I knew that I was sold—I gave him an extra half-quarter though he had broken the agreement, as I was helpless—he had nothing in the house to distrain upon, when a distraint was made the lodgers showed their rent-books—I went to the Pewter Platter the same morning, and saw the daughter, who said that her father was very ill, and her mother was upstairs attending to him, but if I came at six o'clock she would see me—I did not go—there were no lodgers in the house when Day left, as the water had been cut off a fortnight before in consequence of repeated demands for the water rate—if Day had made complaints to the police to get rid of the lodgers they would have communicated with the parochial authorities, and it would have come to my knowledge.
Re-examined. It was suggested at the Police-court that I kept a disorderly house, but I took no notice of it—I will not say that there may not be one in Alderney Street—he suggested the dampness after ho signed the agreement, and wanted to get possession at once.
WILLIAM THOMAS SMITH . I act as agent to Mr. Cave for his house property—I was present at the interview between Mr. Cave and the prisoner Day, at 88, Cambridge Street, who had not taken possession of the house many weeks—Mr. Cave said that, from inquiries he had made, he found that Mr. Stevens was not the landlord at all, but Mr. Goad, and said, "You are letting the house out to lodgers"—Day said, "Who is that gentleman?"—he said, "He is a friend of mine'—Stevens said, "I will not say anything in the presence of a third person; I will consult my solicitor"—there were two sets of lodgers' do not know Stevens.
Cross-examined by Day. I went to 105, Warwick Street, and your wife referred me to No. 88 you had been a week or two in the house—you did not say, "What does it mean? I do not understand it"—I did not say a word to you.
THOMAS COX . I am agent to the executors of the late William Higgs. and have the letting of Elm Tree Lodge for them, which was to let last May—on 23rd May Day called on me and said, "What is the rent of the house, and the terms on which it will be let?"—I said, "The rent is £70 a year, and it will be let on one year's agreement"—he said, "It is more than I can give," and suggested £50I said, "£50 I know will not be entertained, but I will submit your offer"—he gave me his address at the Perseverance Tavern, Stephen Street, Lisson Grove, of which he was proprietor, and was about disposing of the business—I wrote a letter to him there on the 24th, and he called on me about the 27th, and agreed to take the house at £60 a year for himself and family, and gave me as a reference a publican named Creech, of Knightsbridge,
nd Messrs. Thornton, of Buckingham Street, Strand—I wrote to them, and received these replies. (Stating that Day would be a respectable tenant)this is the agreement; the prisoner signed it in my office, and I witnessed his signature. (This was dated 31st June, 1890, and agreed to take the house for a year, at £60 rent. Signed, Joseph Lay)that is the name he gave me—I wrote to him on the 31st, stating that the references were satisfactory, and requested him to see me—I went with him to the house—the first rent became due on 29th September—he was arrested before that—no rent has been paid—I have been to the premise—she has sublet part of the house at a guinea a week, I understand, and has received rent for it—the tenants are still there—he did not positively tell me his wife and family were living in the public-house—I could only infer they were there because he gave me no other address, he said he had an objection to their living in a public-house.
Cross-examined by Day. You told me of many things and many houses that you had had—I understood you were proprietor of the Perseverance—I cannot say how many houses you mentioned that morning—the lodger has done some papering and whitewashing.
Cross-examined. I never heard the name of Stevens in connection with this matter.
WALTER STEVENS . I am the prisoner's son—this letter is his writing—I live at the Perseverance public-house, 12, Stephen Street," Lisson Grove—on April 5 my father took that house of Mr. Chambers, and opened it—it had been shut up—a man named Capon lived upstairs—the house was in his name, and about £20 was paid to him for the transfer—my father bought the house to sell it again in the trade—we made what trade there was—the prisoner Day was not the landlord—he called there about twice to see my father—I looked after the house Barclay and Co. were the brewers—I don't know how much they were paid a month—it was fully licensed—my father was living there when he was arrested.
Cross-examined by Day, You did not move some of the furniture into Holcroft Street—there was a room full of furniture.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. The house has been sold at a profit—my father never told me that Mr. Day might send his letters to the Perseverance, and that I was to take them in; but Mr. Day asked me to take them init was not unusual for customers to have letters addressed to the house—my mother resided at Alderney Street; I was there with hers—he paid eight shillings a week—I was there nearly always when she paid it—she paid it to Mr. Day—it was all paid up when she left—my mother has a private income—I manage her affairs for her, and am in her confidence—our apartments in Furnival Street were wanted, and we could not find a place to suit us; Mr. Day could not let the ground floor, and we took it of him—my father had the Artichoke in Clare Market about five months—it was shut up when he took it, and he sold it at a profit before he opened it—before that he had the Red Lion in Fleet Street—he had the Mitre, in Mitre Court, about four years, and sold it in 1885he is now the licensed holder of the Perseverance—they gave us notice in Furnival Street because they wanted the apartments for offices—I have never heard any conversation between my father and Mr. Day about giving references—they have known each other about twelve years.
Re-examined. I do not know when we left 30, Furnival Street; we went straight from there to Alderney Street——I slept there the first night in the front room—we only had the kitchen—my mother was there—the rest of the house was empty—I knew that Sir. Capon was the landlord—he had been to 30, Furnival Street, and seen my father, but I did not know his name—I did not see him—my father was out of business when at 30, Furnival Street—we occupied two rooms there—before he was at the Perseverance he was at the Artichoke—he went there in March, 1889I have no idea when he left—the house was never opened tilt he sold it to Mr. Hill, who has got it now—he was living in Furnival Street when he bought and sold the Artichoke—he was at the Red Lion over two years.
HENRY BOOTHBY . I live at 30, Furnival Street, Holborn—I let two unfurnished rooms there to the prisoner Stevens, from 25th February to 29th October, 1889. at 6s. 6d. a week—he gave me notice on 29th October, but did not go till November 11th this is his book; the last payment is on 11th November—we had to put our furniture into a small room through his remaining, and the book was stowed away, and no further entries were made, but he stopped till December 11th I frequently saw Day there as a visitor to Stevens—when Stevens left on 11th December he said that Day had taken a place somewhere over the water, and he was going to look after him.
Cross-examined by Day. You came on an average four times a week.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. Mrs. Stevens paid the rent before they left—he did not give me his address, though I asked him for it—he said it was" somewhere south," which I took to mean over the water; he did not say Pimlico or Camberwell—I do not know where Day lived—very few people came to see Stevens—they were not going to make some alterations at the time I left; it was not to be turned into offices; young Mr. Stevens is not correct—I had no disagreeables whatever with Stevens—I saw nothing contrary to his being perfectly respectable.
NORBROOK JOHN CROW . I am a certified bailiff, of 28, "Warwick Street, Pimlico—in May this year I received a warrant, dated April 1st, to seize for rates at Warwick Street, but could not find Day; I found a caretaker there on the first occasion, who represented himself as a lodger, and the second time I found three lodgers in the house—I was shown their rent-books, and did not distrain—I went there three times, but did not see Day.
Cross-examined by Day. I live about one hundred yards from the house—the oilcloth was claimed by the drawing-room lodgers—the first time I went, a man came out and showed me a rent-book, and said he was a tenant; but there was a gay woman there, and he was waiting on her—I heard a dog there.
HENRY EVANS . I live at Elm Tree Lodge, 33, South Lambeth Road—the house was in Day's occupation till he was arrested—I knew him as Henry Day—in April, 1889, I met him in Euston Road, and he said if I liked to live at Stamford Street in the kitchen and look after the place in the daytime, I could have it rent free—I said "Yes," and went there about a week afterwards, about 25th March—I got a few things for the kitchen—a card was put up, "Apartments to let," and three or four lodgers came—Day came and saw them, but he did not live there or his family; there were no sons or daughters going to the City—Day came
there every day—I saw Stevens there two or three times—I lived there about eight months, up to October, 1889, when Day told me he had taken a house in the Camberwell New Road, and asked me to go there and clean the windows and make the place ready for him—I went to 230, Camberwell New Road, with my furniture—I am married—I found the house empty and unfurnished—Day bought new oilcloth, blinds, and curtains; I believe he bought them—he said he was going to advertise to let the place to young men as lodger—she did not succeed in getting any lodgers—I stayed to the end of January, 1890 Stevens came there once—Day did not live there—he told me in November, 1889, that he had taken a house at 29, Alderney Street, Pimlico, and asked me to go there and let the apartments—I said I did not care about going—he was indebted to me at that time—I consented to go and clean the windows about the beginning of February—I found Mrs. Stevens there and her two sons, living in the two kitchens, one of which was used as a bedroom—I went again about a week afterwards and scrubbed some rooms for Day; I found some lodgers there—a little later he said that the lodgers had gone away without paying their rent, and persuaded me to go there and live rent free and look after them—I stayed there till June—Day slept there sometimes—I saw Stevens there for a month or two, and Mrs. Stevens and the two young men—I believe Mr. Stevens had the letting of the apartments if anybody came—I work at the Great Northern Railway half time, at night only—I was there in the daytime—about the beginning of April Mr. and Mrs. Stevens and the two young men left and went to the Perseverance—at the beginning of June he told me he was going to give up 29, Alderney Street, because the tenants were so bad—I did not know that Mr. Coe was landlord of this house—I was not aware that the police had been communicated with—Day owed me some pounds; I never kept count how much—he said he was going to Elm Tree Lodge, and I had better come there—I found that house also empty—Day furnished one room and lived there till his arrest on September 10th he advertised it as to let, and Mr. and Mrs. Thayre took half the house—none of Day's family lived there, nor did I ever see them there—a distress was put in on, I think, the day after he was arrested; it was for rates, not rent—I never authorised Day to use my name to order bacon and butter; I told him I did not like his doing so, and he said he would go and alter it—he ordered large quantities of food in my name—I found he had given my name as the rated occupied—they took my things, they were sold, and I have never had them back.
Cross-examined by Day. There was, a mantle-maker there, and I believe he left £14 in your debt—I remember your going to the place twice, about the lodgers.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. I may have seen Stevens half-a-dozen times while I was caretaker to Day—I sometimes saw Day, but he did not remain long—I heard no conversation between them about giving references—Day had great trouble to get rid of the tenants in Alderney Street—I do not think they were respectable people—he got some of his rents—two floors were let, one for 19s. and one for 7s., and I believe they paid part—there were disturbances there, and Mr. Day had to complain to the police, as he could not get them out—I believe the kitchen at Camberwell New Road was damp.
HENRY MARSHALL (Police Inspector). On 10th September I went with Sergeant Richards to the Perseverance public-house, 11, Lisson Grove, with a warrant for Stevens' arrest—I said, "Is your name Stevens?" He said "Yes"—I said, "Do you know a man named Henry Day?" he said, "Yes"—I said, "Can you give me his address?"—he said, "No"—Mrs. Stevens called out, "Is it Day's address that is wanted?—"Superintendent Richards then arrested Stevens—Mrs. Stevens produced a memorandum book, and from what I saw in it I went to Elm Tree Lodge, 33, South Lambeth Road, and saw Day there—I said, "Is your name Henry Day?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am Inspector Marshall, and have a warrant for your apprehension, for conspiring with a man named Stevens, who is in custody, to get possession of 29, Alderney Street, Pimlico, the property of Mr. John Herbert Coe" he said, "Well, I certainly took the house, but there were no false pretences"—I said, "It is alleged that you represented you had resided at 230, Camberwell New Road, for three years, that Stevens was your landlord there, and that you required the house for your own occupation and your family; you never went to live there at all, but your reference, Stevens, appears to have moved in within half an hour of your getting possession"—he said, "Well, I certainly did not live there, but stayed some time"—I said, "There is also a complaint of you, in conjunction with Stevens, in getting possession of 230, Camberwell New Road, in precisely the same way, and there will be a charge against you of getting 78, Stamford Street, Blackfriars. from Mr. Timms, the owner, in a similar manner"—he was taken in custody, and I searched that portion of the house which he occupied, and asked him to give me the landlord's name and address; he said "No"—I said, "Have you any lodgers here?"—he said, "Yes"—I saw the tenant in his presence, and she produced a rent-book, which showed that they paid him a guinea a week for a portion of the house unfurnished—I took possession of several books, which I have here, and two tradesmen's books—they are not receipted; one is for flour, 6s. 8 1/2 d. is paid and £1 unpaid—the first date is June 20th, 1890, and the last September 10th, which was the day of the arrest—the other is for grocery—the landlord handed me this agreement.
Cross-examined by Day. I knew you sixteen years ago, but I have lost sight of you for a dozen years—you kept a restaurant in Oxford Street sixteen or eighteen years ago.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. I did not know Stevens till this inquiry—I received this letter from him after he was in custody—I cannot find out anything against him previous to this matter—the warrant is dated June 29, and he was arrested on September 10I had it in my possession all that time, and frequently tried to execute it—I could have executed it earlier against Stevens, but could not find Day—I knew a man of similar name had gone into the Perseverance, and went there two or three times before September 10, but could not satisfy myself that Stevens was there, though I saw Mrs. Stevens; I know now that he was there all the time—I had not got his Christian name—the Perseverance is a tumble-down, filthy place, not fit for habitation, there was no trade there—when I arrested Day, I found a couch, a table, and three or four chairs—I have got an inventory, in his writing, of his lodger's furniture.
Re-examined. Stevens sent me a letter to go and see him, but I refused—I have not been able to ascertain what he has been doing for a living since 1887, when he left the Red Lion; but he has been doing what he calls "public-house broking"—the Perseverance is of no value at all, except that there is a licence attached to it—they cannot transact business now, it is in such a filthy state—he was a respectable man when he was in Oxford Street—I knew him by going to the house, and knew his first wife—I could not find the references, Sharp or Mortimer—Mr. Sladden is dead—Mr. Creech, of Albert Street, Knightsbridge, is a respectable man—Thornton and Co., of 12, Buckingham Street, are very doubtful people.
CHARLES RICHARDS (Detective Officer). I went with Inspector Marshall to the Perseverance—what he has said is correct-when Stevens was told the charge he said, "What is the fraud?"—I said that Day took houses without paying the rent, and he, Stevens, was a reference for him—he said, "What I said about Day I believe to be true. I do not know where he is living now"—Mrs. Stevens said, "Do you want Day's address?"—I said, "Yes"—she said, "My little boy has it in his pocket-book," which she handed to me—this is it: "33, South Lambeth Road'—I found this card on Stevens: "H. C. Day, Elm Tree Lodge, Vauxhall Park, S. W. "going to the station Day said, "I must confess my wife went to lodge in the house at Pimlico soon after Day took it, but she paid rent"—when the warrant was read, he said what he had said about Day he believed to be true.
Witnesses for Stevens.
EDWARD STEVENS . I am an engineer—before that I was in the Metropolitan Police—I am the prisoner Stevens' eldest son, and am acquainted with his movements for the last four or five years—he went from the Mitre to the Blue Lion, Fetter Lane, and stayed there about eighteen months—I am not sure whether he went direct from the Blue Lion to the Red Lion, but he went there afterwards—that is about three years ago—when he sold the Red Lion I believe he went to Furnival Street—he was about taking the Artichoke, in Clare Market, to open it as a publichouse, but sold it at a better price, and never moved in—he communicated with Reid's, the brewers—it is not unusual to take houses which are not open; the licence would be transferred to a respectable person.
Cross-examined. The tenant applies for the licence—I am about twenty-five—during the past ten years I have been engaged in business, and not living with my father—he continued at the Red Lion till he went to 30, Furnival Street, to the best of my belief—he took the Artichoke while he was living at Furnival Street.
JAMES HARRINGTON . I am a commission and public-house broker, of 105, Great Russell Street—I negotiated the Perseverance public-house, Stephen Street, Lisson Grove, with Mr. Capon, Mr. Stevens, and Mr. Chambers—Stevens gave Mr. Capon, I think, £20 for his interest; he was merely a quarterly tenant, and he arranged with Mr. Chambers as to the arrears of rent due from Capon—the licence was £25; Mr. Stevens had to pay the whole of that, and it was paid to my knowledge, and transferred to Stevens—I have since sold it to Mr. Scott, a builder, for £25 as a going concern—Mr. Scott guaranteed an extension of lease, and they had near upon £2,000 on rebuilding, and he paid £250 to the freeholder for dilapidations, which will make the property worth about
£4,000 when rebuilt—when Mr. Stevens took the house it was closed, and there was no business there; it was in consequence of his efforts that he was able to sell it at that price—it is not true that shortly previous to September this year the house was worth nothing; it was dilapidated, but not to that extent—it is a common practice to get such houses, work up a business, and sell them at a profit; shutup houses are very much sought after for that purpose; it requires trouble and expense.
Cross-examined. It had been shut up about two months—the previous tenant was there about nine months; I cannot tell why he shut it up—Stevens went there on 3rd April, and remained till September—it was sold about 11th August to the present speculator—I never saw Stevens' books; I have been in the house and seen the trade he was doing, people drinking beer and spirits—I went there thirty or forty times, and sometimes saw nine or ten people there, and sometimes only two or three; from that I tell you that he worked up a trade, and yet the trade was not taken into consideration at all—I have known Stevens five or six years.
Re-examined. A new lease was granted—Stevens is very much respected by Reid and Co., who he does business with.
Stevens received a good character.
WALTER STEVENS (Re-examined). I have looked at one or two books at home, and find that my father went to the Red Lion in 1887he was there two and a half years, and sold it on February 25, 1889I got that out of the takings book; I have not got it here, but as to the Red Lion I speak from memory—the Mitre I got from my own books—I speak to February 25th, 1889, from memory, without looking at the books.
By MR. FULTON. My father went to Furnival Street on 25th February, direct from the Red Lion—I have seen no books; I speak from memory—I had not the same memory yesterday, but I went home, and thought the case over—I heard all the witnesses examined yesterday as to his having left there in 1887 or 1888I have no books; but since last night I have gone back on my mind—this (produced) is the Red Lion till book; it ends in October, 1888; but here is another book—it is my father's writing—this is the distillers' account.
Day's Defence. I had no idea of doing anything wrong. The house in Stamford Street was taken by Mr. Stevens on an agreement. I did not separate from my wife at all, but I took rooms to make room for the rest of the family, as they wore growing bigger. On the death of an uncle of mine I managed the business for my aunt.
GUILTY on the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th counts only .
DAY Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
STEVENS Four Months' without Hard labour.
MR. ROOTII Prosecuted.
THOMAS ROPER (City Detective). On September 22nd, about 4.15, I saw the prisoner in London Wall; I knew him, and followed him to Pearce and Co.'s warehouse, 42, Wood Street; he went in and came out in about five minutes, and went into Bradbury and Greatorex's warehouse, Alderman bury, and came out and went into E. and J. Morley's warehouse, Wood Street, and then into other warehouse—she did not seem
to be making purchase—she looked at an old pattern in the doorway of all the warehouses, and then went in—he went back to Morley's, and came out hurriedly, with something under his coat—I went after him and said, "Palmer, what have you got?"—that is his name—he said, "Oh, Christ, I am done again"—I took this box from under his arm—it contains Swede gloves.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say you got the box from Messrs. Morley's steps.
ALFRED CLARK . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Morley—this box of gloves is their property, value 29s. 9d. they have our registered mark on them—I saw them in the kid glove-room on the morning they were stolen.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was three days and three nights walking about; I was starving. "
Prisoner's Defence. I was walking along Wood Street, kicked against the parcel, and picked it up, and the officer arrested me. No one saw me in the warehouse, and there is a man posted at the door. The officer followed me. because he is prejudiced against me.
ALFRED CLARK (Re-examined). The boxes are generally kept in four dozens, but this box was returned by a customer the morning before, and had his name on it; the stock-keeper placed them on some boxes on the first floor, and they were taken from there.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court on March 4th, 1889. Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT. Monday and Tuesday, October 27th and 28th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted, and MR. ROOTII Defended. JAMES SULLIVAN. I am a cabdriver, living at 11, Verulam Street, Holborn—on August 3rd, about half-past eleven, I went with three friends, cabmen, to the Anglo-Italian Club, Laystall Street, St. Andrew's, Holborn—I am not a member—I paid twopence to go upstairs—we had four pint bottles of ale, and went into the dancing-room, upstairs waltzing was going on—men and women were there; I daresay there were thirty or forty people there, mostly Italians—the women were English—I began to waltz, and I happened to tread on the toe of a young girl who was sitting alongside the prisoner—I had seen them dancing—he jumped up into my face and said something in Italian that I could not understand—I apologised the best way I could—I said, "I beg your pardon, I did not do it intentionally"—the girl appeared to be satisfied, and, as far as I could judge then, the prisoner took it all right—we went on with the dance for about a quarter of an hour—then the prisoner came over to me; he had some friends behind him; he had a pocket
knife in his right hand (I did not see where he got it from), and he stuck me, through the hat, in the head—I was standing up then beside my partner; the organ had done playing—I fell to the ground immediately, and was insensible—when I recovered my senses I was in the hospital, Gray's Inn Road, which was not far off—I did not remain in the hospital long—I was taken to the police-station the same day—I resumed my business as cabdriver about a week after—I do not suffer now from the wound, except when I take too much, and then it affects me; I was never like that before the would—I had never seen the prisoner before that night.
Cross-examined. Neither I nor my friend were members of the club—I did not count the Italians there, there were thirty or forty—directly we went in we drank the beer—I had been in two or three public-houses that day, and had mild and bitter; I had not been to a public-house that evening—I was as sober as I am now—the dancing-room was about the length of this Court—I danced with one of my friends, as I knew no lady there—I accidentally trod on the young lady's toes—he did not seem annoyed when I apologised—she and a good many other people were sitting on forms—I don't know if the prisoner accepted my apology, he sat down—I swear I had no struggle over a glass—I did not come into the room with a bottle in my hand and try to pick up a glass from the top of the organ—the organ-grinder did not try to take the glass from me—the knife was a penknife—I had two wounds—it was not my knife, I had no knife—it was not my friend's knife; I don't know where the prisoner got it from—the prisoner came to me with a pocket-knife open in his hand and stabbed me in the head—I had had no quarrel with the prisoner when he stabbed, except with regard to treading on the lady's toe—if anyone says there was a quarrel it is untrue.
Re-examined. I have not been asked before about a quarrel and a broken glass, or an organ-grinder—the prisoner was not defended at the Police-court.
WALTER RICHARDSON . I am a cabdriver, and live at 37, Wicklow Street, King's Cross—I went with the prosecutor on this night into the dancing-room of the club, and danced with him—as we waltzed the prosecutor unintentionally trod on the toes of a young lady who was sitting with the prisoner, underneath the organ—the prisoner jumped up and said something to my friend; I could not understand what it was—my friend begged his pardon, and we thought we had settled it—going round again, the prisoner jumped up, pulled a knife from his left-hand pocket, and stabbed my friend in the head twice—there was no time to prevent it—we were standing still at the time—it was six or seven minutes, I should say, not longer, after the treading on the toe—I had taken no notice of the prisoner after begging his pardon—the prosecutor fell down, and everybody left the room and went downstairs except the lady in the refreshment bar and the organ-man and two young ladies and the prisoner and myself—the prisoner aimed a second blow with the knife at the prosecutor at the back of the neck as he was falling to the ground in a fainting condition; I did not see the prisoner do anything to him after that—I went downstairs, leaving the prisoner in the room, and I went to the Town Hall, but could not find a policeman, and came back to the club and saw two constables, I believe, outside—one went into the club with me—after knocking at the door three or four times and shouting
out, "Open the door, the police are here," the door was opened—I went in first, and picked out the prisoner standing by the bar—as soon as he saw us going in he turned his back—I said, "This is the man," and went and collared hold of him.
Cross-examined. I am a friend of the prosecutor—I met him five or six minutes before we went to the club—I am not a member of the club; I had been there once before, three or four weeks before—I had never seen the prisoner before—I cannot recollect how many public-houses I had been in that day—I had not been in a good many; I am not a drinking man; I had had one or two glasses during the day—two other drivers were there; they are not here to-day—we had four bottles between us—the stabbing was six or seven minutes after the prosecutor trod on the lady's foot (it appeared by the deposition that the witness said before the Magistrate ten minutes or a quarter of an hour)I saw nothing after the second stab; I went downstairs for the police—I should have seen anything that took place while I was there—a lot of other Italians came up with the prisoner when he stabbed the prosecutor—he drew the knife out of his pocket—he came down the side of the room, and drew the knife out of his left-hand pocket.
ELLEN CHAMBERLAIN . I am a tailoress and a single woman, living at 13, New North Street—I was at this club about a quarter-past one a.m. on 4th August—Ada Sinclair was there—the prosecutor (whom I did not know before) and Richardson were dancing together, and the prosecutor trod on the toe of a lady who was dancing with the prisoner at the time—the prosecutor went up and begged her pardon—she spoke to the prisoner—I can speak a little Italian, but I did not hear what she said—after the apology I heard the prisoner and another Italian talking in Italian—about a quarter of an hour afterwards the prisoner came up and kicked the prosecutor, who was dancing—the prosecutor asked him what it was for, and the prisoner said something in Italian which the prosecutor could not understand, and after that a lot of the Italians and the prisoner got into conversation together—I heard one man say to the prisoner, in Italian, "Take a knife out from your pocket," and the prisoner said, in Italian, "No, wait a little later on, and give it to him when he is out"—about a quarter of an hour after the prisoner came over and pushed the prosecutor, who took no notice of it, and afterwards the prisoner went over by the bar, and came across with a knife, which he drew from his left-hand trousers pocket, in his hand, and stabbed the prosecutor in the head—the prosecutor fell down—the prisoner then kicked him about his head or shoulders—the other Italians ran out—I remained there and held up the prosecutor's head and bathed it with water—he was bleeding—he was taken down out of the room before the police came—I was there when they came.
Cross-examined. I was in the hospital with rheumatic fever last Sessions, when this case was postponed for my attendance—I have no doubt the lady was dancing with the prisoner when the prosecutor trod on her foots—he went and sat down afterwards——I have made no mistake about the prisoner kicking the prosecutor before he stabbed him, and directly after the stab he kicked him again—this is a men's club, I am not a member.
saw the prosecutor and his friend waltzing, and the prosecutor accidentally trod on a young Englishwoman's toe; she was sitting down at the time—she made motions to the prisoner, and pointed out the prosecutor to the prisoner, and the prisoner said in English, "Hurt you, Jessie"—she said, "Yes," and pointed to the man who did it—the prisoner went across and put his two hands up and spoke to the prosecutor, who apologised, as far as I understood twice, as best as he could to the prisoner—the prisoner put his hands up and said, "Go out, you Englishman," and shook his body—the prisoner's friends pulled him on one side, and he spoke to them in Italian—he and his friends then went straight to the prosecutor and said a few words—the row dropped for a few minutes—afterwards the prisoner, with two friends, went straight up to the prosecutor and took a knife from his left-hand pocket and stuck it into the prosecutor's head—they gathered round him—I could not say if he was stabbed once or twice—when the prosecutor fell, one Italian, not the prisoner, kicked him in the back—the Italians all ran out—the prisoner remained behind to kick the man in the head when the blood was flowing from the back part of it—directly I saw him kicked I ran out screaming, because I got frightened—I was toying to get out of the door, and the prisoner ran by me—I held him by the coat and said, "You have killed the man"—he said, in English, "Me quarrel, but me not do all!"—"Let me get out," he said, three or four times—I said, "No"—he seemed to rush at me; I stepped back, and he ran out—I screamed out, "Stop him, stop him!" several time—san Englishman ran after him and caught him by the collar with a stick; but he got out of the club—he was stopped—he ran back into the club when the Englishman caught him—I called for a policeman—he was taken by the policemen and identified.
Cross-examined. I am a dressmaker, and have been a ballet dancer in Christmas pantomimes—I swear I have never been convicted, or been in trouble—I went to the club with Chamberlain, who is my friend—there was no clock there—this happened after one o'clock on Bank Holiday morning—I spoke to the prisoner in English, and all I heard him say was in English—he spoke to the young lady in broken English—I do not know Italian; he was talking to his friends in Italian—I stood looking on at this; I had no partner—I only knew Chamberlain—the girl was dancing when the prosecutor trod on her foot, but sitting down when she complained—the prisoner's friend who kicked the prosecutor was arrested and taken to the station, and then let go.
Re-examined. I saw nothing of the prisoner kicking the prosecutor before he was stabbed.
JOSEPH WATERTON (G 353). Richardson came to me, and I went to this club—the door was shut—I knocked, and after a minute the door was opened—I went in—I saw the prosecutor lying on his back in the passage at the top of the kitchen stairs with his feet towards the door—some of his friends took him in a cab to the hospital—Richardson pointed out the prisoner, and I arrested him, and he was taken to the station—I told him why I arrested him; he said nothing—when charged at the police-station he said, "I have had no knife to-night"—no knife was found.
Cross-examined. All the prisoner said was in Italian—it was not till
the interpreter was called to the police-station that he was able to make himself understood.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am a surgeon, of Percy Circus, Clerkenwell—about two a.m. on 4th August I was at the King's Cross Police-station—I examined the prosecutor, who was faint from loss of blood—he was not insensible; he had been to the Royal Free Hospital, and had his wounds dressed—I found he had an incised wound one and a half inches long on the right side of his head, almost in the middle, it penetrated to the bone—he had also a contused wound on the back of his head, and a little below that a large puffy humour or bruise—the first wound must have been produced by a knife or other sharp instrument—there had not been much loss of blood—the wound on the back of the head might have been produced by a fall or by some blunt instrument; a kick from a boot would cause it; there must have been a considerable blow or fall—the skin was broken; the puffy bruise might have been produced by a blunt instrument or a fall—there must have been two blows or falls, one would not be enough—the wounds are quite healed now—there is no danger from them.
Cross-examined. They were not dangerous in themselves—I took the hospital dressing off and examined them—the wounds at the back of the head were as consistent with a fall as with a kick—it was quite impossible for the incised wound to have been caused by the man's head falling on a piece of glass, and it certainly could not have been produced by a fall.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:" I am content to go for trial; I am not guilty. I have witnesses that I will call at the trial. "
Witnesses for the Defence. PIETRO PCHIIALETTI (Interpreted). After midnight on Bank Holiday morning I was in this ballroom—the prisoner was on the left-hand side of the room—I saw the organ-man Bianchi go up to the Englishman and catch hold of his clothes; a lot of people, English and Italians, were round him—the Italians threw the Englishman to the ground—when that took place the prisoner was four or five yards away on the left-hand side of the room—when I saw the Englishman fall to the ground, and I saw they were paying him, I left the room.
Cross-examined. I am a scullery man in a restaurant—I have only known the prisoner twelve months, since I have been in London—I do not know what he is—I am not a member of the club—the prosecutor was there when I went in—he and the others were dancing—after he had danced I saw the organ-grinder get hold of his clothes, because he heard that the prosecutor had a bottle in his pocket—I did not notice that the prisoner had a young lady, nor that anyone trod on her toe.
EUGENIO BIANCHI (Interpreted). I live at 10, Laystall Street, and work in the kitchen of the club, and wait on people—on Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday I go upstairs and play the organ—I have known the prisoner for the last three months as a member of the club—he bears the reputation of being a respectable good young man, who makes no row with anybody—from twelve o'clock on this night till two I was on the stage—there were about one hundred people there; the room is nearly the same size as this Court—I saw the prosecutor when he came from downstairs; I knew he had a knife in his pocket, because I saw him make a motion to his friend—he went towards a form and got
a glass, which he put in his pocket—I. got off the stage and said to him, "What are you going to do with that glass?"—he said, "Nothing; I have nothing"—when I went to him to get the glass the glass dropped on the floor, and when I put my hand behind him I found a knife and a bottle underneath his coat—I got hold of the knife, which has now disappeared; in the struggle my arm was cut—I saw the prisoner there, but he was close to the door talking to another man—he was in no way connected with this row—if he had been in this quarrel I should have seen him—I remained upstairs after the prosecutor was carried down—I did not afterwards have a drink with the prisoner—we danced no more after this—the confusion kept me there.
Cross-examined. I saw the prosecutor lying on the floor bleeding a little—I saw no one strike him with a knife—I did not see him tread on a girl's toe—I was grinding the organ—I remained in the room to. put things straight when the people ran out—I did not see anyone kick the prosecutor while he was lying on the ground—I swear the prisoner gave no blow at all—I had no time to go to the Police-court, because my master was ill. (The witness showed the Jury the alleged scar on his arm.)
LUIGI GUIDA . I live at 19, Eyre Street Hill, and am a mosaic worker—I was in the club for ten minutes on this night about twelve—I had just arrived, and was talking to Pchialetti when I heard Bianchi cry, "Knife, knife!"—I saw the prosecutor had a knife in his hand, and I got it away from him and put it in a corner and came away—as I came downstairs I saw the prisoner on the left-hand side—I cannot say if he was mixed up in this quarrel.
HUGO MOREGI . I live at 159, Newport Dwellings, and am a hairdresser—on this night I went into the club, a dance was going on—I noticed Sullivan with a bottle in his right hand and a knife in his left hand, behind his back—Bianchi jumped down and tried to take the bottle from his hand, and at that time a glass fell on the ground, and I saw Sullivan fall down, and his head was bleeding when I saw him get up; it may have been done by the broken glass—the only knife I saw used was the one Sullivan had behind his back—I saw no one kick him while he was on the ground—I saw the prisoner stand against the door—he was not mixed up with any part of the quarrel—I attend on a subpoena.
Cross-examined. I did not go before the Magistrate—I don't know anything of the prosecutor—I am Italian, I have lived all my life in England—I saw Sullivan fall, but I did not see what made him fall—I noticed nothing about a foot being trodden on—I went out of the room when I saw his head bleeding—I was not there a quarter of an hour—I was there when the police came; the prisoner was there then—I did not see him given into custody, but I knew that morning he had been; I cannot say what time—I did not go before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. I don't know if he was charged the following morning.
GUILTY . Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
781. WILLIAM ALLEN (48) and HENRY FRANCIS (61) , Unlawfully obtaining from Edward Henry Blake a post-office order for £3, eighteen postage stamps, and other post-office orders and stamps from other persons, by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and BIRON Prosecuted; and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and ROOTH Defended Allen; MR. PURCELL Defended Francis.
CHARLES HOSKINS . I live at 56, Ruckford Street, Yeovil—I am in the office of the Western Chronicle, published in Yeovil—on 9th April this letter, enclosing this advertisement, came. (This stated that a private gentleman teas prepared to lend sums of £50 to £500, at 5per cent., on the borrower's note of hand alone, with promptitude and secrecy, charging no fees. Address, W. Tremaine, 142, Tooley Street, London, S. E. The letter enclosed 5s., and requested a month's insertion of the advertisement)on 16th April I received this letter. (This enclosed another 4s. for re-insertion)the advertisement first appeared in our issue of Friday, 18th April.
LILIAN JENNINGS . I am a newsagent, of 142, Tooley Street—at the end of March or beginning of April Francis called and asked to have letters addressed there; he said he would pay Id. each for them—I said I did not mind—he gave the name of W. Tremaine—afterwards letters came daily for Mr. W. Tremaine, sometimes three, four, six, or seven—he called day by day, and paid Id. each for them, and took them away—he last called about the end of April—seven letters came after he ceased to call—I gave them to the detective—she occupied no room or office at 142, Tooley Street, and carried on no business as money lender or anything else.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I said he gave the name of Tremaine I meant that he said letters would come in the name of Tremaine—I never saw him open any of the letters.
Re-examined. I knew him by no other name than Tremaine.
HENRY EDWARD BLAKE . I am a miller, working at the Laverstoke Mills, near Salisbury—in April I saw this advertisement in the Western Chronicle I wrote a letter to Mr. W. Tremaine, 142, Tooley Street, asking him for a loan of £60, to be repaid in two years in two sums of £30 each—I received a reply, which I have lost—it was addressed from 142, Tooley Street, and signed, "W. Tremaine," and said Mr. Bolton would be the agent to inquire about me at Salisbury, and report to his principal in London—I was to pay 5 per cent, interest—it said there was secrecy and promptitude, and that all fees and delays were avoided, but that I should remit 1s. 6d. for postage, telegrams, etc.—I sent eighteen stamps in consequence to Mr. Tremaine, believing he was carrying on a genuine business, and that Mr. Bolton was his agent, and that he was prepared to make the advance—I received this letter of 25th April from 142, Tooley Street. (This stated that the traveller having returned and made a satisfactory report, Tremaine would be pleased to make the advance, and requested that £3 0s, 9d., payable to the cashier, Henry Bright, for the first year's interest and stamp duty, should be forwarded by return, and that the advance would be sent)I believed in the existence of the cashier, and in the statements in the letter, and I forwarded a post-office order for £3, payable to Henry Bright, and nine stamps to 142, Tooley Street, about the end of April—I received this acknowledgment on 30th April. (Saying that Mr. Tremaine was away from town, but would return next day)I believed that letter—on 1st May I received this letter. (This stated that he had been from home prosecuting a fraudulent debtor, who had denied his signature, which had not been witnessed; that the case was decided against him, and that he could lend no more money unless the borrower's signature were witnessed by him, or by someone on his behalf and required £1 10s. 6d. for travelling expenses)I believed that, and got a Post-office order for £1 19s. 6d., and sent it to Mr. W.
Tremaine, 142, Tooley Street—Mr. Tremaine did not come—I wrote and received no reply—I heard no more of him—I parted with £4 12s. 9d. in all, believing in the statements in the letters.
MARGARET HARRIS . I am the wife of David Harris, a newsagent, of 34, Southwark Bridge Road—Francis called at my shop and asked if he could have a few letters left there, and he would give me one penny each—I said, "Yes"—ho gave "Mr. Russell" as the name the letters would come in—after a time three, four, six, eight or more letters came in a day for George H. Russell—Francis called and paid one penny apiece, and took them away—a man, who was not either of the prisoners, called with this piece of paper: "Please give bearer my letters, George Russell," and in consequence I gave the bearer eighteen letters which were waiting for George Russell—the man gave me one shilling, leaving sixpence owing—after that Francis called and paid me the sixpence—that was the last time he camea good many other letters came for him; he did not call, and I gave them to the police.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Francis said the letters would bear the name of Russell—he never opened them—when he gave me the sixpence he said, "I have brought you the sixpence from Mr. Russell, due on the letters last time. "
Re-examined. I know no name of Francis except Russell.
LEONARD COGGER . My business address is 66, Middle Abbey Street, Dublin, and I am a clerk—in May my attention was directed to this advertisement in Freeman's Journal. (This was the same as the previous one, except that the name and address were G. H. Russell, 34, Southwark Bridge Road)I believed in the genuineness of the advertisement, and in consequence I wrote to that address asking for the loan of £100on 29th May I received this letter. (This acceded to the application to advance £100 for a year; said that Mr. Hudson would make inquiries, and report; that there was promptitude and secrecy, and that fees were avoided, but that 1s. 6d. must be sent to defray postage and telegrams)I believed the statements in the letter were true, and that Russell was is a position and prepared to advance the money I required on my giving security—on that. belief I sent eighteen stamps—I received this letter dated 2nd June. (Saying Mr. Hudson had furnished a satisfactory report; that they had decided to grant the advance, and requesting £6 1s. for the first year's interest and stamp duty)I. believed the statements, and sent six postal orders for £l each, and twelve stamps on 3rd June—on 5th June I received this letter. (Acknowledging receipt of his letter with enclosures, and saying Mr. Russell would return to town next day)I believed that, and thought it was written by some one having authority—about 6th June I received this. (This was a similar letter to that in the previous case, referring to a fraudulent debtor, and asking £2 12s. 6d. to be sent for travelling expenses, payable to Mr. John Carter)I believed Carter to be Russell's cashier—I had a telegram from Russell saying that he could not come that evening, but that he would come on the Tuesday or Wednesday—he did not come—I wrote several times, and sent telegrams, but got no answer—I heard nothing more of him till these proceedings were taken—I believed in the genuineness of the statements in the letters; but for them I should not have parted with my money—the whole sum got out of me was £7 15s.
a doctor—I saw my patient Elizabeth Kipling about five days ago; she was confined on the 14th October—she is not in a condition to appear here and give evidence.
STEPHEN GUMMER (Detective Sergeant). I had charge of this case, and was present at the Police-court when Elizabeth Kipling was examined—both prisoners were present, and had opportunity of cross-examining her.
Elizabeth Kipling's deposition was then read as follows:" I live at 55, Stainsbury Road, Poplar. We keep a newspaper-shop. In May last the prisoner Francis called at my shop. He gave me the name of Russell, and asked to have his letters addressed to him at my shop, and said he would pay me a penny for each letter. I agreed, and a number of letters came addressed to G. H. Russell, and Francis called for them and paid me a penny for each. It went on for about a month. He had all the letters that came in that name. "
RICHARD WILKINSON . I live at Ballinshough, near Tipperary, and am a farmer—in June I saw an advertisement similar to this in the Freeman's Journal on 5th June I forwarded this application to Southwark Bridge Road. (Describing his position, and asking for a loan of £300, to be repaid in six years)on the 7th I received this letter, addressed from 53, Stainsbury Road. (This said that Mr. Hudson would make inquiries, and that 1s. 6d. must be sent for stamps and telegrams)I sent eighteen stamps with this letter—on 11th June I received this letter. (Stating that Mr. Hudson's report being satisfactory, the advance would be made; that £18 3s. for interest and stamp duty must be sent, payable to Mr. John Wilson, the cashier; that the £600 would be remitted immediately on receipt)I believed the genuineness of the statements, and sent post-office order for £18 3s, payable to Mr. John Wilson—the statements in the letters induced me to part with my money—on 17th June I sent this letter, saying I was satisfied with the way be proposed to send the money—the money did not come—on 19th June I received this letter. (This was to the same effect as in previous cases, that he had been prosecuting a fraudulent debtor, and requesting £i 4s. to be sent for travelling expenses)on 20th June I wrote this letter. (Stating he was sorry he did not know about the four guineas before, as he could have sent it with the £18, but that now the money had better be paid through the Bank of Ireland, where his signature could be witnessed)I did not send the four guineas—I had already sent £18 4s. 6d.I received no further letters from Russell; I wrote to both addresses for the return of the money, but received no reply—I parted with my money on my belief in the genuineness of the statements.
MARY ANN JONES . I am a newsagent—I live at 100, Brady Street, Bethnal Green—about the middle of July Francis came to my shop and asked if I had any objection to his addressing letters there—I said, "No "he wrote the name of Paget on this piece of paper in my presence—next day several letters came, and afterwards letters used to come every day; Francis called for them, and paid me Id. a letter—I said to him, "You have many letters" he said, "Yes. I have been out of employment some time. I am an agent now"—I handed thirty-two letters in all to him within three weeks—then he ceased to call, and the officers came and gave me instructions—the officers came the evening before the last morning that Francis came.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I don't remember whether he told
me his name was Page—the put that name on a piece of paper as the name in which letters would come, and I thought it was his name—I afterwards understood ho was an agent acting for somebody else—he opened no letters, but took them away.
Re-examined. I called him by no name; only gave him the letters.
PATRICK MCKENEAR . I am a farmer, and live near St. Fichen, Clare—in August this year I saw this advertisement in the Farmers' Gazette. (Offering to lend money without security, by applying to Mr. Paget, 100, Brady Street, London, E.) believing that to be genuine, I sent an application for a loan of £500, and received this reply. (Dated August 6, offering to lend £500 for five years at six per cent, on a note of hand, if the inquiries were 'satisfactory, and asking for eighteen stamps for postages)on August 9th. I sent another letter and 1s. 6d. in stamps, and a card in this envelope (produced), as he asked for my Christian name in full—on the same day I received this letter. (From 100, Brady Street, stating that the loan of £500 would be granted at six per cent., and requesting the witness to send £30 5s., being £30 for the first five years' interest and 5s. for stamps)as Mr. Caroll, the agent who was to make the inquiries, had not arrived at my place, I began to have suspicions, and wrote them a letter. (Proposing that the £30 should be deducted from the £500)I then heard no more—in parting with my postage stamps I believed in the genuineness of the statements contained in the letter.
LLEWELLYN HEADY . I am a clerk in the money order department—these two post-office orders for £10 and £8 3s. were issued in Tipperary; they are payable to John Wilson, of Aldgate—they have been paid to John Wilson—I produce two orders issued at Salisbury, and payable at Mark Lane to Henry Bright, and another for £2 12s. 6d., issued at Dublin, and payable at Walworth Road to John Carter; also six postal orders for £1 each in the name of James Carter.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The postal orders are payable at branch offices—the person who signed his name here would hand it across the counter with his name on it—no one is here from those four post-offices to identify the prisoners.
STEPHEN GUMMER (Re-examined). On 12th August I went with Funnell to 100, Brady Street, a shop occupied by Mrs. Jones, who showed us four letters, and we concealed ourselves in the shop, and at 9.30 a.m. Francis came in and said, "Mrs. Jones, have you got any letters for me?" she said, "Yes," and handed him the four letters I had seen, for which he paid her fourpence, put them in his pocket, and left the shop—we followed him, and ho joined Allen about fifteen yards from the shop—they walked on a few paces side by side—Francis turned his head, saw us, and darted up a Court—I ran and caught him, and Funnell stopped Allen—I said to Francis, "Here, Paget, I want those four letters you have just got from 100, Brady Street"—ho said, "You won't get them" I said, "I am a police officer, and am going to take them" he said, "Oh, that makes all the difference," and allowed me to take them out of his pocket—we were in plain clothes—one of them was an unopened letter from McKenear, containing 18 postage stamps—I said, "You will have to go with mo to Bethnal Green Station; you will be charged with obtaining money by fraud on the sham loan-office system "ho said, "Do I look as if I made much out of it?" I took him to the station—Mrs. Harris and a number of others came and identified
him—Francis gave his name Henry James Francis, but refused his address—Allen for a time refused both name and address, but when Inspector Littlechild identified him, he said he would give his address to the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. When we left the shop Francis was walking towards Allen ton or eleven yards from him—the court is about twenty-five yards from the shop; Francis was only two or three yards from the shop when he started to run—Allen did not attempt to run, he had no opportunity—both men were put among a number of others at the station, and neither Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Kipling, or Miss Jennings identified Allen—I went to the various post-offices—no one from there was brought to identify him—Harris's is a small newspaper shop.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was a few yards behind Francis when ho went up the court; I went rapidly; he got a few paces down the court.
WILLIAM FUNNELL (Police Sergeant). I went with Gummer to Mrs. Jones' shop and saw Francis come in—when he left I followed him, and about fifteen yards away ho joined Allen, and they walked several paces side by side, Francis suddenly turned up a court, and Gummer followed him—I stopped Francis and said, "What is your name?"—he said, "What has that to do with you?"—I said, "I am a police officer, and I want to know"—he said, "Williams"—I said, "You will have to accompany us to Bethnal Green Police-station"—he said, "What for?"—I said, "For being concerned with this man in obtaining money by false pretences"—he said, u I don't know what you mean; you need not catch hold of me, I will go quietly"—I took him to the station—at the station Littlechild saw Allen and recognised him, and said, "Dh, William, here again?" Allen said, "Yes"—I found on him a knife, a latch-key, and a few coppers.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. They walked together not much further than the length of this Court—I cannot say whether they were speaking; I was about the length of the jury-box behind them—Allen was turning the corner to follow Francis—Allen told me he was unwell.
JOHN GEORGE LITTLECHILD (Police Inspector). I have known Allen eighteen or nineteen years—I was present at this Court on 13th December, 1883, when Allen admitted that this letter (produced) was his writing.(This was written to the chief Convict Department, Scotland Yard; it was not read.
GEORGE, INGIIS I am an expert in handwriting, of 8, Red Lion Square—I have had before me the admitted letter of Allen's, dated 19th June, 1882, spoken to by Littlechild, and I believe the draft of the advertisement which appeared in the Western Chronicle to be Allen's writing, and also the two letters spoken to by Mr. Hoskins, but one is written much heavier than the other; also the whole of these letters addressed to Mr. Henry Blake—I believe the "pro W. Freeman" to be in the same writing as the body of the letter, but written with a different pen; it professes to be different-this "Henry Bright" who appears as the payee in these seven postal orders I believe to be in Allen's writing—these four letters addressed to Mr. Cogger are also in Allen's writing—the same attempt has been made to sign them in a different hand to the body of the letter—this "James Carter," the
payee to these six postal orders forwarded by Mr. Cogger, is Allen's writing, and so is the name of the sender—I believe this "John Carter" to this post-office order for £2 12s. 6d., sent by Mr. Cogger, to be Allen's writing—the payee's name in the postal orders is John Carter, and in the money orders James Carter; but they are both in the same hand—the body and the signature is Mr. Wilkinson's, but are in Allen's writing, and so is the letter signed Russell—I believe these two post-office orders for £10 and £8 33. to be Allen's writing, but disguised; the J is of the same formation as the previous money order of John Carter—the letters addressed to Mr. Kenear are in Allen's writing, and the signature Matt. Paget is intended to be in a different hand, but I believe it is all written by one hand—I believe these two pencil documents to have been written by the same individual—the name of Paget appears on one, and "Please deliver my letters to bearer" on the other.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have been an expert since November, 1882 since then I have made some errors—what strikes me most in Allen's admitted writing is the lower loop of this "G" in "Great Scotland Yard," which is the same as the lower loop of this "y" in "Day," and I will show you the same in another letter; I have very seldom seen this flourish in other writing—in the writing of persons who have learned Greek and German you find peculiar forms which you do not find in the writing of persons who do not know those languages—this "Great Scotland Yard" is in a common commercial hand—I have more than a dozen reasons; I have thirteen in one—I had more than thirteen when the jury disagreed with me before—one case was where a doctor was said to have libelled a lady—I do not know whether I had eighteen reasons then—the Jury very likely said that they did not see the slightest similarity, you cannot expect a juryman to find out in five minutes what it takes an expert an hour to do—when once the peculiarity is pointed out to him it would not take an hour—a bank clerk is supposed to be an expert in handwriting—I have not had a bank clerk's opinion against mine when he turned out right and I wrong—I did not call Mr. Piggott's signature a fac-simile, I thought it was that of another gentleman beginning with a "P," and ending with an "1"—that was one of my mistakes; it was an error.
Witness for Allen's Defence.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have been an expert forty-five years—I attended at the offices of the Solicitor to the Treasury, and was shown these documents and an admitted letter of Allen's, dated Great Scotland Yard; I compared them with it, and in my opinion they are two distinct writings, the Mr. Allen who wrote the two letters is not the man who wrote the letters in this case—this (produced) is the same letter; it is from the convict establishment—all these documents are written by one hand, but not by Allen, and I am prepared to give my reasons—I agree with Mr. Inglish that the signature to this letter is the same as the body. (Pointing out dissimilarities to the Jury) this is not an uncommon flourish, especially when a person writes a very free hand—what I noticed most was the letter "D" after examining the documents, I had a letter from a brewer next morning, and he made a "D" exactly like it——we always find something alike in different writings, millions of people write alike—I have been a witness in a very great many celebrated cases; and in the Parnell case the moment I saw them I said they were forgeries, and I went
further than that, and named the forger, not at once, but I found some letters tied up with red tape, and I said that Piggott was the forger.
Cross-examined. There are two or three resemblances in these letters, but they are not the same—the similarities are such as might be found in other people's writing—I should not say that the signatures of the payee of these post-office orders, Henry Bright and James Carter, are in a disguised hand; I think it is the natural writing of someone—the James Carter slopes the wrong way, but many people write like that—I am not prepared to say that it is not Allen's writing, but my opinion is that it is not—all the letters in Allen's writing slope—I have been an expert forty-five years, and have not made any mistakes, but the Jury sometimes thought so—the Jury did not agree with me at the beginning of this year when Miss Harrison was prosecuted for libel; I was certain she wrote the letters—Mr. Inglis was on the other side for the defence, and the Jury believed him and disagreed with me—I believe the girl perjured herself in this box—I do not know whether the Jury stopped the case; I was not present; I left as soon as I had given my evidence. (See Vol. CXI, page 259.)
Re-examined. The suggestion in that case was that the prosecutrix wrote a foul libel about herself—the defendant was a young and pretty girl, and the Jury sympathised with her.
ALLEN**. Five Years' Penal Servitude. FRANCIS**. Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM ELLIOT KING . I am a coachman, of Copenhagen Street, Islington—at 9.40 p.m., Saturday, September 27th, I was against my street door in the garden—I had put out a drunken lodger—a policeman had started her away, and I was talking to my wife, when the prisoner and two others came up—one of them hit me on my face, another got hold of my privates, and the prisoner took my watch and chain out of my waistcoat pocket—I held the prisoner, who had my watch and chain in his hand, for a good time—they kicked me on my legs; I have wounds there now—I don't think the prisoner kicked me; I held him too tightly, and he was too close to me—we went on the ground together; they kicked me on the ground—I got up when I could, and my wife called for assistance—we struggled about the garden; they tried to throw me down the area—a policeman came; I then, had the prisoner in my arms—my gold watch was worth £18 and the gold chain 30s., and there was a seal as well.
Cross-examined. My garden is seven yards long—Copenhagen Street is a big street—I sent for a policeman to start the drunken lodger away because I did not want any annoyance round my door—I did not touch her—there were a number of people in the street—when the policeman came there was no one in the garden but the three men—five or ten minutes after the policeman left I should think about 20 people came in the garden—the drunken lodger did not come back—I had seen none of the three persons before—mine is a private house—I have a gas lamp
over my door, and there is a street lamp against the next house—people might have come in my garden before the policeman came—I said I would charge the prisoner—I cannot say I Paid I had lost my watch—the prisoner said lie was innocent, and that he would go quietly with the policeman—when the policeman came and I charged him, I took the seal out of the prisoner's hand—the policeman could see me do it—I said about that at the Police-court. (It did not appear in the deposition)
JOHN TALBOT (Y 380.) At 0.45 on 27th September I was on duty, and heard a screams of murder and police—I hurried to the spot, and saw the prisoner struggling with Mr. King in the front garden—King was holding him by his hand and shoulder—there were 15 or 20 others there—Mr. King took the seal or locket from the prisoner's hand—she said, "This man has picked my pocket and stolen my watch," and he said they had kicked him most brutally—the prisoner said he knew nothing about the watch or chain—I told him he would have to come to the station—he did so quietly—after the charge was taken at the station he said to King, "I know nothing of your watch, neither do I of your chain; if I am put away for this, when I come out I will have your b——g life; I will knife you. "
Cross-examined. He said nothing about the seal or locket in my hearing—I believe I told the Magistrate that King said, "This man has picked my pocket, stolen my watch "I may have said as well that he said, "I have lost my watch"—the prisoner said he knew nothing of it, and was innocent—I think he said he knew nothing of the watch and chain, not watch and locket—I had been to this house, I should think, an hour earlier, and was there then for three or four minutes, ejecting a woman from the front garden.
LOUISA SPALDLING . I live at 163, Copenhagen Street, Islington, with my father and mother—I am ten years old—on this Saturday night I stood on the railings in Copenhagen Street to see the drunken woman who was rowing, and I saw a watch lying on the ground, and took it to my father, who took it to the station.
Cross-examined. There were a few people in the garden—the gentleman to whom the watch belonged had gone to the station, the lady was there.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "There was no violence used. I don't know anything about the chain. There were twenty men in the garden at the time. '
JOHN TALIJOT (Re-examined). I was at the house four times that evening; I put the woman out once prior to the robbery—an hour afterwards I arrested the prisoner—the drunken woman came back after I had taken the prisoner to the station.
GUILTY of robbery from the person. Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT. Thursday, October 23rd, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(784). THOMAS MASON (32) , to stealing a candlestick, the property of Robert Kerr, after a conviction at Munch ester on 24th January, 1885; also to being found with housebreaking instruments in his possession. Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT. Wednesday, October 29th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
785. ARTHUR RORKE (21) , Unlawfully obtaining from Pompellio Valenzuella an order for £1,200, with intent to defraud. Second Count, for obtaining an order for £100. Third Count, for unlawfully converting to his own use a certain security, contrary to directions in writing.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
POMPELLIO VALENZUELLA (Interpreted). I am a merchant of Honduras—I am now residing in London—in August, 1889, while I was in Honduras, I received this circular purporting to come from Elder, Rorke, and Co.; it is in Spanish—in consequence of receiving it I wrote to Elder, Rorke, and Co.—I received a reply, dated 28th November—on 12th January I wrote again—after that I went to New York—while there I wrote this letter of 7th June—I then came to London, and arrived here on 10th July, and on the 11th I wrote to Elder, Rorke, and Co. from the Hotel des Etrangers, and on the 12th the prisoner called on me at the hotel; Mr. Vello came in to assist in the conversation—when I noticed that the prisoner could not talk Spanish, I asked Mr. Vello to translate to him—at the beginning of the conversation he asked the prisoner if he had received my letter—he said, "Yes"—I afterwards asked him if he was conversant with the terms contained in the letter—he replied yes, he well understood—after that he gave the letter to Mr. Vello to translate it—to prevent mistakes, Mr. Vello interpreted it—the prisoner said he had a clerk, but he used not to leave the office—I then asked what conditions could we come to in business together if. I would give him £800 to £1,000 the prisoner said if I would give him from £800 to £1,000 he would open a credit to an equal amount—I then asked him under what conditions—he said anything bought with that money he would not charge any commission for—he was to charge a commission of 3 per cent, on all the goods he would buy on credit—I then told him that he had come to England to transact business with some safe, respectable firms—the prisoner said that his house was a very honourable house, that he had credit in the Bank of England, also in the house of Messrs. Rylands, and other well-known houses—all this was said to me through the interpreter—I believed his statement—she said the following day was Sunday, and he would take me for a drive—the interpreter was to go with us, but he did not come—I went with the prisoner alone—in the course of the drive ho said that he had a great business, and that he had a balance account in the Bank of England for more than £5,000he said that he had credit at Rylands, and that he could ask for what he wanted, and he explained what goods he could get there—next day the prisoner came to my hotel to fetch me, and we went to the house of De Pass and Co.—I had with me a cheque for £1,200, and afterwards a draft for £100 I saw the prisoner receive at De Pass's office a cheque on an English bank for £1,200, and we went to the bank and cashed it—I endorsed the cheque, and I saw the prisoner receive bank notes for it—before the cheque was cashed I had given
prisoner a list of some of the goods I wanted purchased—this is the list and a translation of it—a day or two afterwards the prisoner told me it was dangerous for me to go about London with money, and having confidence in him I gave him the draft for £100, and he gave mo this receipt for £1,300 lie took mo to Rylands', and I selected goods from the various departments, and also at Mr. Fox's, to the amount of between £700 and £800I afterwards went with the prisoner to Manchester—before going he asked, me for £198 to buy a bill of exchange; I gave him that and £50 for expenses—I also gave him some jewellery to sell for me, to the amount of £60 or £70I have had a part of it back—he said he had to send the other for samples—when at Manchester we first went to Weston's, and then to another house; I do not remember the name—the prisoner left me at Manchester and returned to London—afterwards, from what I heard about the prisoner, I came back to London, and went to the prisoner's office—I saw him in the presence of Cortina, who was acting for him as interpreter—I said to the prisoner that I required £500 to pay for the Manchester good—she said he had forgotten his keys, and told me to call next morning about eleven to twelve—I went, but only found the clerk there, who told me that the prisoner was away from London for twelve days—I then consulted a solicitor—I afterwards consulted other solicitors, and was introduced to Messrs. Wontner—I caused inquiries to be made at the Bank of England and at Messrs. Rylands—I received only £248 out of the £1,300.
Cross-examined. I have been in business at Honduras near ten years—I was alone in the business—I have brothers also in business there—I have been doing business in English goods during the ten years through an agent, Arthur Levy and Co.—I left them because their commission was too high—they did not refuse to continue business relations with me—I did not write to them to say I was going to leave them—when I received the printed circular I did not make inquiries at Honduras about Elder, Rorke, and Co.; I only showed it to my father-in-law—I never asked for any information—when I selected the goods at Rylands' many of them had to be manufactured, and also at Fox's—those goods were still unfinished about four weeks ago—those at Manchester were ready, they had only to bale them—the goods at Rylands' and Fox's were entered as invoiced to the prisoner—I received the bill of lading, but not the invoice—the goods I selected altogether at Rylands' and Fox's amounted to from £700 to £8001 am not sure of the day that I first asked the prisoner to return a portion of the money; it was before the 12th August—I consulted Mr. Hans, a solicitor, the same day that I did not find the prisoner—I never saw the prisoner in the presence of Mr. Hans—I saw him several times afterwards; I saw him in the street and spoke to him; he said he was going to look for a solicitor—all he said was that he would cancel the order—she told me that he would hand me the balance of the money as soon as I got Rylands' and the other firms to free him from liability—Mr. Vallance did not tell me the same; he told me that he could not safely pay over any money to me until Rylands and the others had freed him from liability—I cancelled the orders in Manchester—I showed him the order cancelled—Mr. Vallance told me that when I had cancelled the orders the prisoner would make out an account showing the balance due to me, I paying him his commission; ho told me lie had written to the prisoner to ask him for
the documents and the balance of the account—Mr. Vallance said we had better have an interview, but the prisoner did not come—I went to another firm of solicitors, Messrs. Emmanuel and Simmons—I told my solicitor that if he did not receive the money or the goods at once lie was to take further steps—I wrote this letter on September 26th. (This was addressed to Messrs. Elder, Rorke, and Co., and begged to inform them that he was desirous of arranging the business amicably, otherwise his solicitor must take criminal proceedings to bring the matter to a settlement.)
ALFRED SKEE . I am a clerk in the shipping department of Rylands and Son, Limited, Wood Street—in July, this year, the card of Elder, Rorke, and Co. was brought to me—I knew nothing of that firm; it had no credit at our house—I afterwards communicated with Mr. Dunford, another clerk of Rylands in the shipping counting-house, and on his instructions, at the end of July, I called at the office of Messrs. Elder, Rorke, and Co., at 31, Great St. Helens—I saw the prisoner, showed him this invoice, and asked him for a cheque for £415, the amount of the goods that had been purchased—he said, "My client is at Manchester, and as soon as he returns he will let you have a cheque"—I mentioned no less sum to him—I left the invoice with him—no money afterwards came—I called there more than once—it was a cash transaction entirely.
Cross-examined. The terms were half cash down and half cash on delivery, or completion of the invoice—the prisoner did not tell me he had instructions from his client not to pay for our goods at present, or anything like it—I am sure he merely said he was in Manchester—the goods when invoiced would be entered in the journal under the name of the firm to whom they were invoiced, and a ledger account would be opened—the journal entry and the ledger account would be in the name of Elder, Rorke, and Co., and we looked to them, and to them only—some of the goods were ready for delivery when I took the order, out others he wanted cut and stamped—we have this parcel of goods still in hand, and they are still entered in our books to Elder, Rorke, and Co. £416 is the full amount of the order—I did not see the prosecutor at all—there is not an item of another lot of goods selected by Valenzuella in addition to the £415.
EDWARD DUNFORD . I am head of the counting-house at Rylands and Sons—I do not know the firm of Elder, Rorke, and Co., nor the prisoner—no such firm had credit with us—Mr. Skee made a communication to me as to Elder, Rorke, and Co.—about 17th July I saw the prisoner, and told him I understood he was making a purchase in the warehouse, and as we had no account with him, we should want to know something of him; the ordinary trade reference—she said, "There is no occasion for that; I shall pay cash when the invoice is complete "some days afterwards I saw him again at the warehouse, and told him I understood he wanted certain goods made up in his own way, and I suggested he should pay down a certain sum—I said I understood he was buying £1,000he pulled out his book and said, "Oh, no! I have not completed yet, but, so far, it is something under £400" he said it was a very reasonable request, and if we were to make out an approximate amount of what he had bought he would pay half down—I think I spoke to him on the 22nd, and he said we should receive half the amount on the 24th this account was taken a few days afterwards by Skee, who brought
no money back—I treated this purely as a cash transaction—he did not come on the Thursday, and no cheque came.
Cross-examined. Some of the goods had to be made up specially—I gave orders for them not to be gone on with till we got some cash—some goods which we had in stock wore put back again into stock, and may have been sold to someone else.
Re-examined. "We have plenty of the same sort when the cash customer comes.
EDGAR FOX . I am agent at London Wall for a Manchester house—I was managing a business in Knightrider Street in July—I knew by name the firm of Elder, Rorke, and Co., but I did not know the prisoner till he called on me with the prosecutor—goods to the amount of £300 were selected—they were to come from three or four Manchester manufacturers—I delivered £20 or £30 worth to a Manchester packer to the prisoner's order—they were paid for—the other goods have not been delivered because they were not ready, they have not been paid for—I sold on the terms cash before delivery—I wrote this letter to Rorke at the beginning of August, after meeting the prosecutor in the street, and having a communication from him with reference to the prisoner—I think I wrote the letter on his landing because he was out. (The letter was to the effect that the Spaniard wanted him to write a letter condemning Rorke, but that as there was a law of libel he had to mind; that he had been referred to Be Pass and Co., who seemed to think Rorke was quite right, and that he (the writer) tooled to Rorke, and so asked him to remain firm; that the Spaniards had said things against Rorke, and if they were untrue he could hare them imprisoned) I had communicated with De Pass and Co.—I had not seen Messrs. Rylands nor the Bank of England.
Cross-examined. I managed the business of Mr. Fuller, an agent for some Manchester people, while he was ill—after the prisoner called I mentioned his name to Mr. Fuller—he said he knew him—all the goods that were finished were delivered and paid for—about £150 worth were finished ten days or a fortnight ago and delivered—all are finished now except what were stopped—all the goods were entered to Elder, Rorke, and Co—I made no entry as regards the prosecutor—after I called and found the prisoner out, and wrote this letter, I may have written to him afterwards—I saw him afterwards—I have never released him from his responsibility; the goods were bought in his name, and he must pay for them.
Re-examined. The people who had these orders are Richard Hudson, of Manchester, Harvey and Co., William Waller and Co., and Henry Robinson Clitheroe—one order I did not send forward, because it was not settled—when the prosecutor made the statements about the prisoner, which, if untrue, would make him liable to imprisonment, I did not communicate them to my principals—I went to see the prisoner; the office was shut up at that time—I called in business hours.
EDWARD FERABY . I am superintendent of the private drawing office of the Bank of England—I know the people who have accounts there—the firm of Elder, Rorke, and Co. have no account there, and no balance of £5,000I have gone back five years, and I can say that for that time the prisoner has had no account there.
MR. GILL put in the banking account (verified by affidavit) of the prisoner at Messrs. Brown, Janson and Co.'s.
IRENIO VELLO . I am a foreign correspondent living at Manchester—I was present on Saturday, 12th July, at an interview between Mr. Valenzuella and the prisoner at the hotel in Gerard Street—I was asked to interpret what took place—Mr. Valenzuella asked the prisoner if he had read the letter he had written from the hotel, and he asked me to translate it again—I translated it; in it Mr. Valenzuella asked Mr. Rorke the conditions under which he did business with him, if he should deposit £1,800 with him to buy the goods and ship them——Mr. Rorke said he was agreeable to do so, and that he would charge him five per cent, on the goods bought on credit, and no commission on the goods bought for cash—MR. Valenzuella wanted to buy £1,000 in cash, and give credit for the balance—while I was translating this to him, the prisoner reduced the commission from five to three per cent., and said he would allow him six months credit on the goods bought on credit; Mr. Valenzuella was to pay three per cent, for that and nothing for the goods bought on cash—he said he was agreeable, that he wished to do business with a respectable house, and Mr. Rorke said his house was very respectable and well known; that they had credit at the Bank of England, and that they had credit also with Rylands and Sons, and other firms which were not mentioned—I interpreted that to the prosecutor—the prisoner asked him to write out a list of the goods he required, and that list was given to me to translate, and I did so—the prisoner asked the prosecutor to take a drive on the Sunday, and I was to be with them—I went to the hotel at three on the Sunday, and when the prisoner came he said he thought he could well understand the prosecutor, and he told me to stop at the hotel because he would pay me for the day's engagement, and he also engaged me till the following Friday.
Cross-examined. I have told you the whole of the conversation—the prosecutor spoke several words in English; I don't remember what they were—I was called by the prosecutor to translate—the prisoner said in English," "We have credit at the Bank of England "I am positive those words were used.
JOSEPH CORTINA . The prisoner took me to see the prosecutor on July 15th I saw them in the prisoner's office—the prisoner showed the prosecutor some samples of stuff, and I translated the prices—when we came from several houses, the prosecutor said he had got a cheque for £100 the prisoner said, "If you do not give it to me very possibly you will lose it; it is not well to go round London with 60 much money in your pocket; you had better give it to me"—I was afterwards in the prisoner's office when the prosecutor told Kim he had cancelled the orders for the goods from Manchester, and that he had employed another agent—the prosecutor asked for £500 the prisoner said, "Come to-morrow, I can give it to you "I went next day and the following day; the prisoner was not there.
Cross-examined. I am Spanish—I have been in England over a year—the prisoner said as to the £500, "I cannot give it to you to-day, I will give it to you to-morrow; come up to-morrow morning "I live in the Name house as the prosecutor, and I have done so ever since these criminal proceedings began—I am a student of English.
office on the third floor of 31, Great St. Helens—I told him I was a police officer, and said I had a warrant for a man named Rorke, and that I believed he was that person—I read the warrant, and said, "Are you the person referred to in that warrant?" he said, "Yes," and asked to see the warrant—I showed it to him—some time afterwards a man who he said was his clerk came in—the prisoner said he wished to consult with his solicitors—I said, "Who are your solicitors?" he said, "Mr. George Lewis" he took a blank cheque from his pocket, and wrote in the date and signed it, and handed it to his clerk—I said, "What is that?" he said, "I have very little cash in my pocket, and I must have my solicitors—"I said, "You clearly understand that if you are going to give that cheque to your clerk it is for your solicitor, you having no money in your pocket"—he wrote the address of Mr. George Lewis on a piece of paper, and handed it to the clerk, and said, "When you get there you can fill it in "I had not knowledge that it was to be filled in for £510.
Cross-examined. I don't know that it was so filled in; I have not seen the cheque since—I am sure he dated the cheque the 18th I have produced the banking account which I received from Brown, Janson, and Co., of Abchurch Lane—I found a cheque for £510 had been presented there on the 18th just before closing time—it came from the Middlesex Banking Company, Leadenhall Street—I have not that cheque—I took the prisoner into custody about two o'clock—I made inquiries at the Middlesex Banking Company, and found a cheque for £510 had been presented there on the afternoon of the 18th by Mr. Spiegel.
Re-examined. Mr. George Lewis has not appeared in this case up to the present.
GUILTY . Judgment Respited.
NEW COURT. Wednesday, October 29th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
786. WILLIAM KILWICK (44) , Unlawfully obtaining £5 from George Smith by false pretences. Second Count, Unlawfully counterfeiting a certain writing purporting to be an agreement, and uttering the same, knowing it to be forged.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH and,MR. POYNTER
GEORGE SMITH . I am a blacksmith, of 22, Terry Street, Cubitt Town, Poplar—before 26th April I was in negotiation with the prisoner respecting the Old Cheshire Cheese beer-house, Mile End New Town—I had advanced him £3 5s., and he asked me for £7 more to carry on the alterations; I gave him £5 more—he then wanted twelve guineas more—before I gave him the £5 he brought me this document. (This was an agreement, dated April 11th, 1890, between J. J. Hicknott and William Kilwick for a lease to Kilwick for £25 of the Old Cheshire Cheese, Duke Street, including fixtures, and contained a receipt for £25)this is the agreement between the prisoner and me. (Dated April14th, 1890, between Win. Kilwick and Mr. Smith, agreeing to a partnership in purchasing the Old Cheshire Cheese and fittings, each to pay half the expenses and share the profits)
—I would not have given him the £5 unless I had believed Hicknott's signature to be genuine—this is the transfer of the licence (produced)I afterwards saw Mr. Hicknott, and then gave the prisoner in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. POYNTER. When I am at work it is at Rennie and Co. 's, engineers and shipbuilders, at Greenwich—when not at work I am in a beer-shop, or have to look till I can find work—I have done a little betting, not worth mentioning; I may bet a glass of beer—I do not carry a card case with visiting cards—I have had engraved cards which I have handed to people, but have had none for three years—they were, "G Smith, the Duke's Head, Jubilee Street; commission agent"—that did not mean "bookmaker;" it means taking money for another party on the turf—I have never seen those two documents (produced) before, not even at the Thames Police-court—when the Cheshire Cheese was being repaired, I met the contractor there several times—I have parted with £8 5s. altogether over this affair—the first £3 5s. was given in Mr. Cane's office, who takes the notices for the licence; the prisoner had nothing to do with that; I advanced it for the licence—I called on the prisoner in April at his office—he did not show me any papers, except this agreement for the beer-house; that I swear—there was a talk about my going into partnership with him in April at the Old Cheshire Cheese, and I agreed to do so—the estimated cost of that was £25 between us all in all—I never heard what Mr. Casey's contract was for making the alterations, and never asked—the transfer or renewal of the licence was £3 15st he house had been shut up, and that was the extra cost for renewing; I gave £3 5s., and the prisoner put 19s. to it, making £3 15st he ordinary cost is 6s. 9d. when you are in a house—if the prisoner says he paid £10 for renewing the licence, I say he is telling a falsehood, even supposing witnesses are called to show the details of the items—the licence was vested in my name £25 was to be the partnership capital, and I paid £5 13s. towards it, and got the licence renewed in my name—the rest of the money never was supplied—the licence ultimately devolved to Kitchens—I have not disposed of it, or had a farthing for it—the house has been sold since for £50; I got none of that—I never took the licence up—I said before Mr. Dickenson at the Thames Police-court, "I did not take an oath at all at Prescott Street; I stated I was the resident owner; I do not remember taking the book "I do not remember taking an oath—I did not say that I paid £5 for the purchase of the interest of Mr. Kilwick in the licence; it was for the alterations of the house—I do not think Mr. Kilwick paid Mr. Casey, the contractor, £10 for the alterations—if he paid Mr. Casey £15 I should be £7 19s. in his debt—I gave the £5 in part-payment of all did not obtain an interest in the Old Cheshire Cheese, nor have I transferred it since; I have had no money—I know a man named Boucher; I asked him £25 for the licence—I had the interest in it; I paid for the renewal, and I could have taken it up at any time—I would take very little for it now—this document was stamped as it is now when it was brought to me, and Mr. Hicknott's name was on it—I did not tell the prisoner that I had been rather hard hit on the turf, and was rather hard up for money, and wanted £5; I never lost anything in my life—I did not ask him for £5 on account of the partnership—he said, "£5 will be no good"—I did not tell him that my wife had my money, and to get it from her I
must produce an agreement for the Cheshire Cheese to show to her; what money I had was in the Post-office, not in my wife's name—I never mentioned my wife—the prisoner and I were alone at the interview—I do not know Mr. Hamilton—I know that gentleman (Mr. Hamilton) by sight; I do not know his name—I only saw him here when this case commenced last session—I first saw this agreement in April, it is dated April 14th it was produced at my house, 49, Raven Hill Road, Mile End—I am sure Hicknott's signature was there when it was handed to me—I did not produce it as a means of getting money from my wife to enter into this partnership—I have had several meetings with the prisoner, but Mr. Hamilton was not present at any of them; if he says he was present when this agreement was handed to me, he is telling a falsehood—I do not know of any dispute between Mr. Ritchens and the prisoner over a beer-shop at Ilford—Mr. Joseph Davis is the solicitor conducting this prosecution; I have paid him nothing on account; nobody has that I know of—this signature of Hicknott was here when the prisoner produced this paper—I have not seen Ritchens here this session; I saw him once at the Thames Police-court—no money passed between us, but we have been in the habit of having a glass; he paid for it—I did not hear till after this case that there was any difference between Ritchens and the prisoner—I went to the brewers and tried to get money on this publichouse, assuming that I had an interest in it vested in me—I went to two or three brewers with his sanction, and they all declined; one of them sent a surveyor to look over the house, and asked me whether my wife was used to the business—I was negotiating on the faith of having paid the £5 on April 26th three months elapsed, and I could not find the prisoner; he was moving from place to place—I went to his place once—I did not know that he was living at Dove Row, Bethnal Green, all the time, but I went there at the end of April, and saw him—I did not have tea there—I met his wife, who was very friendly with me; I spent about half an hour there—I saw Kilwick, but did not say I wanted the £5 from him—I made no complaint against him—he said that as soon as he opened this house he should be able to let me have some money on behalf of the Old Cheshire Cheese—I did not tell him that my object was to make an appointment to go with him to Greenwich next day to take another beer-shop; Greenwich was not mentioned, or a beer-shop—when I left there I said I was a stranger in the neighbourhood, and asked him to show me the way to get into Mile End Road; he was going for a walk with his wife—they escorted me part of the way, and I gave him in custody—that was my object in going there—if they had declined to escort me I should have waited outside the house till I saw a policeman—the policeman took him to Bethnal Green, where the sergeant said the case was to be taken to Arbour Square, and then we all three left for Arbour Square, where I charged him and he was locked up—Mrs. Kilwick was at the bottom of the steps, and I may have said good-night to her, but I don't remember—I did not ask her to go with me and have a glass of ale or wine, or any refreshment—I deliberately swear that I never spoke to her—I was present the next day when the case came on before Mr. Mead at the Thames Policecourt, who said that the prisoner ought never to have been given in custody, and allowed him out on his own recognisances, to which he surrendered.
Re-examined. Mr. Dickenson committed him for trial—I could not sell beer till I got an Excise licence—I have sold no beer.
JOHN JOSEPH HICKNOTT . I live at Longfield Court Villas, near Farringdon, and am owner of the Cheshire Cheese—this is not my signature to this document, nor did I authorise anybody to sign it for me; it is a forgery.
Cross-examined by MR. POYNTER. Stones, Morris, and Stone are my solicitors; they had the transferring of my public-house property—I have had many hundreds of cheques from them, and have no doubt that this (produced) is their signature.
GEORGE SMITH (Re-examined by MR. POYNTER). I did not, in the first place, charge the prisoner with forging a power of attorney—you asked me at the Police-court to sign my name to compare with the signature on the power of attorney—I said that I never signed the power of attorney—I did not say that the prisoner had signed my name to it—I did not put it before the Magistrates, it was there—I do not know that it bore the name of George Smith—I said that I never signed such a thing to my knowledge—I did not bring a charge against him of forging a power of attorney from me—I said that there was a power of attorney there which I had never signed; but I afterwards admitted that I might have signed it, but could not remember it.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN HAMILTON . I am a decorator, of 42, Canal Road, Mile End—Mr. Smith has only seen me once; that would be on the 11th, the day the prisoner handed this document to him—I know the prisoner as doing work for him, but I had no interest in the matter—I have not been subpœnaed to come here—the name of Hicknott was not on the document to my knowledge when the prisoner handed it to Smith, there was only this signature, "William Kilwick," on it—that was not written in my presence—I did not see anything written—Kilwick's signature was there, but not Hicknott's—John Joseph Hicknott is a pretty long signature—I do not think it could have been there without my seeing it—I had seen the document a quarter of an hour before Mr. Smith came in, in the same room—the signature of Hicknott was not on it then, and I did not leave the room—I should say that "Hicknott" is in blue ink, and "Kilwick" in black ink—I only saw one ink bottle there.
Cross-examined. This was not at Mr. Smiths house; the document was given in Jubilee Street at the prisoner's office—I am not suggesting that it was signed there—I saw no document signed, and I did not see Mr. Hicknott there—I swear this was given to Smith in Jubilee Street—I called there to see the prisoner on "some business, and I was in the room—he said, "Here is something which would have suited you," and showed me the document—I worked for him in July—I don't keep a shop; I am a journeyman decorator, and work for different persons—I did a job for myself last week—I had this document in my hand and read it, because the prisoner said, "If I had seen you before I might have done something which might have done you good"—I did not go to the Police-court and give evidence, because I knew nothing about it—there were several adjournments—the prisoner never asked me to come.
Re-examined. The prisoner, Mr. Smith, and myself were present—the prisoner produced the document; I did not see him sign it; his signature was on it when I saw it a quarter of an hour before—I was a
solicitor's clerk twenty years ago, and I understand legal documents to a certain extent.
ALBERT GEORGE USHER . I am an agent, of 170, Jubilee Street, Mile End—Mr. Smith called at my house at the end of April or the beginning of May, and produced this agreement with the names of Hicknott and Kilwick on it—it is in the same condition now as it was then—he said that he had entered into partnership with Mr. Kilwick to take the Old Cheshire Cheese, and had paid for the licence, and had likewise paid £5 towards the alterations in the house, and asked me if I considered he was justified in paying any more on the face of that document—I told him it was utterly absurd, and not to pay any more.
Cross-examined. I was asked to give evidence for the prosecution, but refused; I could not get enough money—this is the proof I gave, this is my signature. (MR. FRITH objected to this, and it was not read) I called and saw Mr. Hicknott on several occasions—I did not advise Mr. Smith to prosecute.
Re-examined. Smith told me that he advanced £5 to Kilwick on the partnership account, and I understood this document was for him to advance more, and I advised him not.
Cross-examined. This was for the costs of a lease. (This was a receipt dated 17th May, 1890, for £15 from Mr. H. Kilwick, on the grant of a lease of the Old Cheshire Cheese, signed Stones, Morris, and Stone)this (another) is in the writing of the same partner, Mr. Edward Stone. (This was an agreement, dated April 11th, between John Joseph Hicknott and William Kilwick, to give and take a lease of the Old Cheshire Cheese for a consideration of £15, including the fixtures. Witness, Edward Strachan, solicitor, 5, Finsbury Circus.)
GUILTY . Two Months' Without Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
GEORGE BERRY (G. E. R. Detective). On Saturday, 30th August, I was at Liverpool Street Station, and watched the prisoners and three other men for about an hour—I saw Mr. Dakin come to the booking-office window, which is marked "Colchester"—the Cambridge window is marked "Cambridge"—I saw him getting his ticket, and saw Bennett behind him, a man behind Bennett, and Page behind the man—Bennett put his left hand towards the prosecutor's left-hand trousers-pocket, and said, "Now, then, out of this"—he took his hand from the pocket, and I noticed something in his hand—the three walked into the main line cabyard, towards the entrance gates in Liverpool Street—I told Detective Cross to take Page, and I took hold of Bennett and the third man, who struggled and got away—I gave Bennett into Hicks's custody—Bennett passed something, which looked like a purse, to the man that got away—before I took hold of him I spoke to Mr. Dakin—I had seen the three men in company before at Leyton, on the Great Eastern Railway, to the best of my belief; I won't swear to it.
Cross-examined. Five men were together—I was standing behind Page when I saw the thing that looked like a purse—I was going towards the booking-office window—I am pretty well known as a detective on the line—Cross was standing against the luggage place about three yards off, when Bennett put his hand towards the prosecutor's pocket—I cannot say if trains were going to Cambridge and Colchester about this time—there were other people in the booking-office—I looked by the side of Page and the other man, and saw Bennett's hand go towards the prosecutor's pocket—it would be a mistake to say Bennett was in front of the prosecutor—nobody was in front of him—Bennett was not trying to push on to the window to get in front of the prosecutor—if anybody says that, it is a mistake—I saw something pass from him to the other man, but I could not say what it was—the booking-clerk is not here—I don't know if anything was said at the window about it hot being the window, or about when the Cambridge train went; possibly something was said to the clerk about the train—Mr. Dakin passed out, and they passed out after him.
GEORGE DAKIN . I live at 11, Cobbold Green, Forest Gate—on Saturday, August 30th, I was at Liverpool Street Station about 1.40 I went to the Colchester booking-office window—as soon as I arrived at the barrier two females were in front of me—I found pressure from behind, and was wedged in on both sides from behind, and Bennett pushed past me and went to the window and asked for a ticket to Cambridge—he was told he could not get one there, and went away—Berry came and spoke to me, and I felt in my pocket and missed my purse, out of which I had two minutes before taken 5s. as I walked across the station, in order to have the money ready—the purse contained a half sovereign and 9st he prisoners were taken to the station.
Cross-examined. Bennett got in front of me at the booking window, and at the same time another man came and wedged me on the other side—he asked for a ticket before me—I don't think the booking clerk said more to him than I have said—he went from the window without getting a ticket—I did not see Page at all—I got my ticket, and then Berry spoke to me.
HERBERT FRANK CROSS (G. E. R. Detective). I was with Berry and saw the prisoners and three others—the prisoners and one of the others were in company—Bennett got behind the prosecutor as he was getting a ticket, and put his left hand in his trousers pocket and took something dark out—I thought it was a purse—I did not see where it went to, but Bennett said, "Out of this," and they went out of the cabyard—I spoke to the prosecutor, and followed them, and took Page—I said, "l am a police officer, and shall take you in charge for being concerned, with four others, in stealing a purse"—he made no reply, but struggled very hard to get away—I was not far off when I saw the hand going into the pocket, and I saw what happened distinctly.
Cross-examined. I was standing opposite to the barrier—there was no one between me and Bennett, who was behind the prosecutor—the prosecutor got his ticket and moved away, Bennett followed behind him—I did not notice two women in front of the prosecutor—nobody was in front of him when he was getting his ticket—Berry spoke to the prosecutor first—the men behind the prosecutor followed him out of the barrier—nobody pushed past the prosecutor at the barrier, or got in
front of him—Bennett was not in front of him—I caught hold of Page's collar pretty hard.
FRANK HICKS (960 City). On this day I heard cries of "thief" at, Liverpool Street Station, and I saw Bennett struggling with Berry—I went to them—Berry said, "I give this man into custody for being concerned, with four others, in stealing a purse"—Bennett said it was all a mistake—I took him to the station—in answer to the charge lie said, "It is all a mistake"11d. was found on him when he was searched.
CHARLES EVANS (923 City). I saw a crowd at the station and went towards it—I saw Page detained by Cross, who said he gave him into custody for being concerned, with four others, in stealing a purse at the station—Page said, "It is all a mistake"—I took him to the station—in answer to the charge he said, "It is a mistake" £4 7s. 13/4d. was found on him when he was searched.
The prisoners then pleaded guilty to having been convicted of felony in April,1889, at Northampton. BENNETT** Twelve Months' Hard Labour. PAGE Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT. Thursday, October 30th, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
788. WILLIAM SMITH (39) , Unlawfully taking Elsie Pew, a girl under the age of 16, out of the possession and against the will of her parents. Second Count, for an indecent assault. Third Count, Unlawfully attempting to have carnal knowledge of Hetty Morley, a girl under 13. Fourth Count, for indecent assault.
GUILTY on First and Second Counts Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended, WILLIAM BRIACER. I am a hairdresser, at 38, Barbican—on September 9th I was standing with my assistant at my door—the prisoner and another man came up and asked for a Captain Edmunds—I said, "There is a Mr. Edmunds opposite; I don't know whether he is a captain, or what he is"—the other man said to the prisoner, "Go and see if it is Captain Edmunds"—the other man said, "Leave my goods here"—the prisoner had a ship's bag; he left that and went out—the other man came into the shop, and was shaved—he said, "You can't buy these kind of things in a hairdresser's shop in Africa"; he said he had had the yellow fever, and that Captain Edmunds was very kind to him and had saved his life—the prisoner had come back by that time, and said, "Oh, that is not Captain Edmunds"—the other man opened the bag, and said, "You can see what I have brought for Captain Edmunds"—there was a cape, a muff, and a tablecloth—I believe those now produced are the same—he said the cape and muff were worth £16, and the tablecloth four guineas—he said the furs were Russian sables—he said he would go and see if it was the right Captain Edmunds, and while he was gone the prisoner said he was in a cook's-shop, and that Levy, or some such name, would have given him ton shillings for them, but he would not deal with
Jews—the other man came back; it was not Captain Duncan, he had been gone a year ago—he then said, "I must go back to Liverpool to join my ship, and must have enough money to go; can you let me have £4 for these things?" and I had £3 in my pocket, and I sent my assistant to pawn my watch for the other £1, and gave the £4I thought that was the value of the things—they then went away together.
Cross-examined. I thought they were sailors, and had come from Africa, and that the furs wore Russian sables—I sell bay rum to make the hair grow, and other things—I did not ask for their name and address—they said they had paid £16 for the things—I said at the Police-court that I believed they were sailors, because they spoke so religiously—I know nothing about furs.
Cross-examined. That is the wholesale price—they might be put in the window for fifteen shillings—they are the skin of a hare.
Cross-examined. He gave his correct name and address.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted, and MR. CLUER Defended. HENRY BEDGOOD. I am Us—her of the City of London Court—I produce a default summons for £4 2s. 6d., in the suit of Lewis Levy against the prisoner, dated 28th June; I have not got the judgment on that summons for £2 19s. 6d.I produce the original request of 2nd August for administration under the section of the Bankruptcy Actth—at is verified by an affidavit sworn before Mr. Mitchell. (This was the prisoner's affidavit; it stated that he was unable to pay the amount of his indebtedness, which in the whole did not exceed £50, and that his only creditors were Lewis Levy, £2 2s. 6d. and 8s.; A. Basham, £10; Mr. Zlotnick, £30 9s. 8d; and David Moses, £5; amounting in all to £17 11s. 2d)the request came on for hearing before the Deputy Judge on 20th August—I administered the oath, and the prisoner was sworn in the proper form in English—he appeared to understand what I said—he was examined and cross-examined in English, and appeared to understand the questions—the Deputy Judge made an order for the payment of 6d. in the pound, at the rate of 4s. a month.
affidavit "A" were sworn before me—I have no doubt I read the affidavit to the prisoner, there have been very few cases since my appointment where a marksman has had to swear.
HENRY MORRIS . I am a solicitor, practising at 3, Tabernacle Street—I was present at the City of London Court on August 20th at the hearing of this request—I appeared for Zlotnick, a creditor—the prisoner was examined, and I cross-examined him—I wrote these notes at the time—I asked him if he knew a Mr. Felderman; he said, "No"—I had Felderman brought in, and called the prisoner's attention to him, and he said he did know him—I asked him if he sold him any goods on or about August 2nd this year—he said, "No, I have had no transactions with him since five weeks before my request was filed"—I asked him if he knew Galinski, lie said, "No"—I had Galinski brought in, and then he said he did know him—I asked him if he owed Galinski any money; he said, "No, I do not owe him any money"—I asked him how many men he employed; he said, "One man and one boy"—I asked him how many benches were in his shop; he said he had three—I asked the value of his benches, and he said 35s. I asked the value of his household furniture, and he said £2 10s
Cross-examined. The matter before the Court was whether the prisoner should get a discharge under the Bankruptcy Act upon certain terms—I endeavoured to show that he had made misstatements; I failed—the Deputy-Judge was Mr. Harrison—I called Galinski and other witnesses—Galinski swore the prisoner owed him money—if his claim had been admitted, it would have made the total amount of the indebtedness over £50if it were over £50 the debtor could not file his request—the Judge made the order—provision is made for debts afterwards appearing to be more than £50 the prisoner is a German—I don't know if he paid wages to his workmen on 2nd August; I made no inquiry—the request does not say he owed any wages.
CHARLES FELDERMAN . I am a cabinetmaker, of 67, Eyre Street, Bethnal Green Road—on 2nd August I bought £24 worth of goods of the prisoner, two bedroom suites—I paid him £23 in gold on 2nd August, and £1 two days afterwards—the goods were delivered at my place in the presence of the prisoner and of the carman Bailey, who wrote a receipt, to which the prisoner made a cross.
Cross-examined. I agreed to buy these goods on Saturday, the 2nd August, between five and six, at his shop.
CHARLES BAILEY . I am a carman, living at 1A, Bateman Road. Turton Road—I removed two bedroom suites from the prisoner's to Mr. Felderman' son 2nd August, taking them the furthest way by Great Eastern Street, Old Street, Shoreditch, Church Road, to Eyre Street—the prisoner went with me—he directed me to go into Old Street, and then follow him, and he walked on the pavement and I drove—I wrote this receipt at Felderman's—Gordon asked me to do so; he put his mark to it—Felderman put £23 in gold on the table, and the prisoner picked it up.
Cross-examined. I knew Eyre Street—the prisoner had the goods in a covered van—I had them lowered into the street, and put into the van between four and five in the afternoon—he ordered the van about three or four in the day—I had to wait for him when I got to his place, Garden Walk, Great Eastern Street.
Place, Old Montagu Street, Whitechapel—I was employed by the prisoner, who is not related to me—I left his service three days before the papers arrived in the Bankruptcy Court—on the Saturday before Bank Holiday I was at the defendant's, and saw two bedroom suites taken away—the prisoner was there at the time—on that day there were eight benches in the shop, and five workmen were employed besides me—the value of the benches was from 19s. to 12s.
Cross-examined. My real name is Gordon—I have sworn I was Abraham Karlstein because I was a witness for the prisoner in another case, and he put my name as Karlstein—on Saturday, 2nd August, about dusk, I was paid wages—I was in the workshop from four to five or six that day; the prisoner called me to the workshop.
SIMON BENOSKY (Interpreted). I am a cabinetmaker, of 6, Underwood Street—on the Sunday before Bank Holiday I went to the prisoner's to work—there were eight benches in the shop, and on the Sunday six workmen were at work there.
MARX GALINSKI (Interpreted). I am a tailor, of 8, Fashion Street, Spitalfields—just before the Jews' Passover, this year or last year, I advanced the prisoner £10it was before Easter, but I cannot remember when it was—it was before the Passover this year—on 2nd August £4 was due to me from him—that is still owing, and also £1 7s. 1d., the balance of my account against him for clothes.
Cross-examined. I swear £4 and £l 7s. is owing, though the prisoner swore he owed me nothing—I cannot say if Zlotnick was in partnership with the prisoner when the money was lent—Zlotnick and Solomon Goldberg and the prisoner were present when I advanced the £10I made no entry of it, I only did it for a favour as a friend; I am not a moneylender, and I never enter such things in a book—I don't lend money to anybody—I had lent money to the prisoner before—I cannot remember when I lent this.
SOLOMON GOLDBERG (Interpreted). I keep a small restaurant at 83, Brick Lane—Zlotnick came to my restaurant, and I went with him to Galinski's, 8, Fashion Street, and I saw the prisoner there—it was before the Jewish Passover; I cannot remember the date—Marx Galinski agreed to lend £10 to the prisoner—I did not see the money pass—I signed my name and Gordon's on a small piece of blue paper—I signed as a witness, and the prisoner made a mark—several times afterwards the prisoner came to my place—he never spoke about the money afterwards, nor mentioned anything about Galinski.
Cross-examined. I only went once to Galinski's—I swore at the Police-court that I signed for him twice, because he twice took money from Galinski—the first time I signed was nine or twelve months before that last time—both times he had £10 the second time it was before the Passover; I cannot remember the date—I saw no money paid—I, Galinski, Zlotnick, and the prisoner were present—Zlotnick and the prisoner were partners.
Re-examined. This is the document I signed—it was last year—I do not remember the first time I went; it was in the summer—Zlotnick, Galinski, and I were present on all the occasions—Zlotnick signed this after me—I did not see who wrote this I O U. (This was dated 17th December, 1889, and acknowledged that the prisoner owed? 7 to Galinski, which he promised to pay by instalments of four shillings a month)I only came to
sign it; it was written when I came—I signed for myself and the prisoner, and then Zlotnick signed.
By MR. CLUER. I did not produce it to the Judge of the City of London Court, because it was not in my possession at the time—he did not ask me for it; he did not ask me if I had paper, but only if I had got a summon—she never asked me for other proof except my oath that the £10 was owing—the solicitor did not ask me that.
BETSY GALINSKI . I am Galinski's wife—I was present in the evening in the winter when my husband lent the prisoner £10I saw this document signed; the prisoner made a cross—I was not present when the prisoner came to pay instalments; I do not remember it—I was present several times at conversations between my husband and the prisoner about this money afterwards—I heard my husband several times ask him for the money—I cannot say when the last time was—my husband said, "I have done you a favour; give mo some money; why should not you pay me the money?"—the prisoner said, "I will pay you"—at that time also I heard my husband ask him to give him the balance that ho owed him for the suit of clothes.
MAURICE ZLOTNICK . I live at 25, Coil Street—I was present when £10 was advanced by Galinski to the prisoner in the winter-time, before the Passover holidays—I remember this document; I signed it, and the prisoner made the cross.
Cross-examined. I was then the prisoner's partner; the money was not used for the partnership, but to buy jewellery for him and his wife—the partnership was dissolved in June this year—Mr. Honigbaum was witness to this agreement of the dissolution of partnership, which bears my signature—I did not undertake in Honigbaum's presence to pay Galinski's debt.
Re-examined. After the dissolution of partnership I sued the prisoner for £20I recovered judgment; I don't know the exact amount. The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "All the witnesses he has brought I can prove that all they say is false. I could pick them up in the street for half a pint each. "
Witnesses for the Defence.
NATHAN HONIGBAUM . I am a cabinetmaker—I witnessed this dissolution of partnership between Zlotnick and the prisoner—in my presence at the time it was said that Gordon had to pay Bashing £10, and Zlotnick had to pay the remainder of what he owed to Galinski—the balance due to Galinski was mentioned, and it was arranged that Zlotnick should pay it.
Cross-examined. It was not put into the agreement because it was written by a boy, and he could not write much, and neither of the arbitrators, of whom I was one, was much of a scholar—the prisoner had not to pay any debts not put into the agreement; he was to pay a timber merchant. Bashing—I can only read my name in the agreement—no debt was put into the agreement for Zlotnick to pay—I went through the City of London Court in this way years ago—I forget whether I was ordered to pay sixpence or threepence in the pound—I did not suggest to the prisoner that he might do such a thing—about August Bank Holiday
I heard talk in the street that he sent out papers to file a request—I saw the prisoner after that—I did not speak to him about the matter—I heard talk about the prisoner never having paid Zlotnick, and Zlotnick having got judgment against him—I did not speak to the prisoner about it; I saw him; neither of us spoke about the matter—I heard people talking about Levy having sued the prisoner for £2 7s. 6d. that person in Court is not Levy—now and then I met the prisoner in Curtain Road on business, sometimes I would see him two or three times a week, sometimes not at all—I said nothing to him about £40 or £20 not having been paid.
ZYMAN DIAMOND . In July the prisoner owed me 25s., and about two weeks before Bank Holiday I bought of him five benches for ready money—I left them in his possession at the time, because we had no place to put them.
LOUIS KARLSTEIN (Interpreted). On August 2nd. I was employed by the prisoner—he paid me three guineas for wages about 7.0 p.m. on that day—prior to that I had bought some materials for him, he paid me £7 19s. or £7 11s. for it.
Cross-examined. I bought wood and brass for him at several places—I bought the wood at a timber-yard; I don't know the name, I did no business with the people before—I had no invoice—I paid the money myself at the time, I cannot remember when it was—I save money every week from my wages and keep it at home—I get two guineas a week—I am married and have one child—the prisoner paid me back about seven o'clock on the Saturday before Bank Holiday—the wood I had bought during the week—on the Saturday six workmen were working in the shop.
Re-examined. I bought wood and brass at the prisoner's request for the purposes of his business, as he did not have money to buy it—I worked for him at that time.
Cross-examined. I worked off the premises.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT. Thursday, October 30th, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ROBERT O'DRISCOLL . I am a clerk, of 15, Barford Street, Islington—on 10th October, about a quarter to 1 a.m., I was in Liverpool Road, and the female prisoner came up and asked me to treat her—I took her to the Agricultural Hotel and gave her some beer—we came out, and she asked me to go up Russell Court with her, which I did, and the moment I got into the court I was assaulted by the prisoner Hobson and two other men and knocked down, and my trousers pockets were rifled of 12s.; Grady helped to rifle my pockets; I will not swear that Hobson did, but
he was one of the party—I had 3s. 6d. in one pocket, and 9s. in another, in sixpences and shillings—I was about two minutes on the ground, with the men on top of mea constable came up, and he and I captured Hobson on the spot.
Cross-examined. I had been to a place of amusement and had quite enough refreshment—I met Grady before closing time, and was in her company twenty minutes or half an hour—we had a glass of beer each at the public-house—my way home was not through Russell Court—a lamp at one end shows into the Court—I had noticed three men in the public-house, and the prisoner was one of them—I looked back and saw them coming behind us when we left—they were not in company with Grady—I was struck from behind and knocked down, but not quite stunned—I was much hurt, my teeth were broken and my eyes were bleeding—I cannot say whether Hobson struck me; I was insensible part of the time, and when I came to, I found Hobson struggling with the police—I said nothing at the Police-court about Grady rifling my pockets—I was rather excited and did not think of it—she did not put her hands in my pockets; she tried to take my hands out—I did not think the case was not very strong; on the remand I thought I would embellish it.
Re-examined. I do not know what "embellish" means—the two men and the male prisoner were in the same compartment in the publichouse.
By the COURT. I think the blow was done with a stick, and Hobson had a stick in his hand at the public-house—I never mentioned the stick at the Police-court.
THOMAS NYE (58 N). I was on duty with two other constables in Liverpool Road, and saw Grady and O'Driscoll coming along together—Hobson came out of the Agricultural Hotel at closing time with a number of others, and he and two others followed them into Russell Court—I sent Cooper to one end of the court while I was at the other there is a dead wall through the court and a light at the end, and a reflector which does not show directly through—as soon as Brewer and I got to the top of the court Hobson rushed into our arms—I seized him, and said, "Wait a minute, Freeman"—I had seen him before—he said, "What for?" and commenced struggling to get away—Brewer got on the other side of him, and Grady caught hold of him, and commenced pulling him away—Cooper came up, and said, "They have robbed that man of all he has got—"we struggled about ten minutes; Cooper blew his whistle, and a number of constables arrived—I saw O'Driscoll lying on the ground, and afterwards got a lamp and found three shillings, a sixpence, and two pence, two keys, a ring, and a bone ticket marked P where he had laid—when I first closed up the court three men were there; one rushed past while I was struggling with Hobson, and I did not see the other.
Cross-examined. The court is about fifty-five feet long, and O'Driscoll was lying about half-way down—it is not a blind alley—Grady was excited.
CHARLES BREWER (492 N). I was with Nye in plain clothes, and saw Grady and the prosecutor go down Russell Court, followed by two men—I went down a lane to the other end of the court, and saw Hobson come to the top of the court from Russell Place; Nye stopped him,
calling him Freeman—the top of the court is fifty yards from Liverpool Road where he entered—I told him I should take him in custody for robbing a man in the court—he said, "What for? What for?:—Grady threw herself on me and Nye, and we struggled for about ten minutes—she said, "You shan't take him"—other constables came up—I had watched Hobson the whole evening; he was with two others, one was inside the house and the other outside—Hobson and one of the others had walking-sticks—I cannot say whether the men I had seen with Hobson were the men I saw in the court, because I was struggling—I searched Hobson at the station, and found a sixpence and two pence—I had not seen him speaking to Grady before.
Cross-examined. A great many people go in and out of the Agricultural Hotel—no stick has been found—Hobson had been drinking, but he was not drunk—I cannot identify the other man.
Re-examined. When the other two men ran away I do not know how many sticks they had in their hands; I was struggling.
WALTER COOPER (N 506). I was with the last two witnesses, and saw Grady and the prosecutor come up Russell Court; Hobson and two other men followed them—I went to the bottom of the court, and saw a man counting or looking at something in his hand under a lamp—he saw me and ran out—he was one of the two I had seen with Hobson—I saw a man lying on his back in the court, blew my whistle, ran up the court, and saw Hobson struggling with the last two witnesses and Grady, who was standing over the prosecutor, who was on his back—Hobson was not struggling with the constable then; he had not then started—I blew my whistle, went up the court, and picked the prosecutor up and told him not to go away—I then went up the court and saw Hobson struggling with the two witnesses and Grady—assistance arrived, and they were taken to the station.
Cross-examined. The other man must have gone out at the other end of the court.
HOBSON then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in the name of Thomas Jones on the 28th February, 1887. Five Years' Penal Servitude and Twenty-five Strokes with the Cat. GRADY Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted. CAROLINE ELIZABETH WOOTON. I live with my mother at 2, Munster Terrace, Walthamstow—I became acquainted with the prisoner two years ago, and went out with him for five Sundays—some information then came to me, and I wrote him a letter breaking off the acquaintance, and ceased to keep company with him about Christmas, 1888 about September, 1889, I met him and asked him if he knew me—he said, "What! after the letter you wrote to me?"—I said, "I wrote that in a temper; are you a married man?"—he said, "I have no time to speak to you now"—I said I would see him the next night—I met him the next evening, and he said, "I hope I may be struck dead if I am not a single man"—I then walked out with him till we were married on 8th
July in the registry at Whitechapel—I lived with him six weeks at my mother's house up to a fortnight ago; I was then told something, and went and saw his wife—that is her (pointing)I gave him in charge the same evening.
EMMA MINOTT . I am the wife of Wm. Minott, of 5, Ashwell Road, Walthamstow—I was at the registry office when the last witness went through the form of marriage—I made a cross in the register—my daughter Gertrude was present.
ANN WAGNER . I am a widow, and live at 5, Devonshire Place, London Fields—I was present in 1860, when my friend Mary Ann Watts was married to the prisoner at St. James' Church, Shoreditch—I put my cross to the certificate, and my brother, John Black borough, put his name; he has been dead ten years.
ROSE S. HALES . I am the wife of Mr. Hales, of Dove Road, Hackney—the prisoner is my father, and the lady who has been produced is his wife—they have been parted for sixteen year—she allowed her 2s. a week up to Christmas last—she lives in the same house with me—my father called there about four months ago, and saw my mother and me; I cannot give the date accurately—he came to see his son's baby, which was three days old—it was born four months ago—my mother was in good health at the time.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know whether it was on 11th July—you did not ask me why I was not in black; or say, "I thought your mother was dead"—you allowed her 2s. a week for ten weeks in the year, when you were at the Drury Lane pantomime—you were pantaloon there.
CHARLES COLVER (Police Inspector). I was at the station when the prisoner was charged; he said, "I am very sorry; I have been expecting this"—I produce a certificate. (This certified the marriage of Joseph Catling Gibbons and Mary Ann Watts on February 6th, 1860, at St. James's, Shoreditch) and also this; it is a true copy. (This certified the marriage of Joseph Catling, bachelor, and Caroline Wooton, spinster, at the Registrar Office, Whitechapel, on July 8th, 1890.)
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I left my wife eighteen years ago owing to her misconduct; she has lived with three different men, and has had several children, and I thought she was dead."
He repeated the same statement in his defence
The witness Hales stated that her mother had two children by another man, one of which was seven and the other two years old. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. To enter into his own recognizances to come up for judgment if called upon.
OLD COURT. Friday, October 31st, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted; MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS AND BODKIN
St. John Street, West Smithfield—the prisoner was in my employ as traveller and collector for about three years up to August 9th last—his duties were to get orders and collect moneys, to transmit the orders daily, and any paper money, cheques, notes, and postal-orders by post daily—he had no authority to endorse the cheques that he received—any balance of coin or any loose gold and silver that he received he was expected to pay in on Saturday morning when he appeared at the warehouse in London—he had to travel five days a week—he returned to the warehouse on Saturday—he travelled to Abingdon, Oxford, Birmingham, Worcester, Coventry, and various places in that neighbourhood—occasionally he went as far as Scarborough, when the season was on—I paid him £7 a week, including everything; he was not entitled to any commission—in this year I had an inquiry of the prisoner as to his accounts—finding that he had received payments from customers which he had not paid in, I called him into my private counting-house, and pointed out to him several, which he acknowledged—I then asked him if there were any more, for he might as well make a clean breast of it, and during the day he made me out the list (produced), his defalcations amounting altogether to between £80 and £90 after talking the matter over with him, he said he felt sorry for what he had done, and asked me to overlook it, which I consented to do, promising him at the same time if it ever occurred again I should prosecute him, and he offered £1 a week in payment, stating that he was in receipt of £2 a week from his mother, who was living with him, and therefore he could afford to do iton those terms he continued working for me—I have a customer named Boyce, at Birmingham—I did not receive a cheque for £20 19s. 6d. from him on or after 31st July—this is the cheque, payable to my order—it is endorsed, "E. E. Parker," but not in my handwriting—it is also endorsed, "C, Cutting," and "G. Assender and Sons"—Mr. Paxman, of Abingdon, is a customer of mine—I have not received from him a cheque for £11 4s. 6d. this (produced) is a cheque of his for that amount; it is endorsed, "C. Parker"—that is not my signature, it is the prisoner's writing—I have a customer named Piggott, of Oxford—I have not received from him a cheque for £10 18s. 6d. this is a cheque of his for that amount, dated 7th August, payable to my order; it is endorsed in my name, but not by me—it is the prisoner's writing; it is also endorsed, "C. Cutting"—the prisoner had no authority to endorse either of those three cheques—it was his duty to have forwarded them to me the following morning with his daily sheet—I have never received from him any account of those cheques—from inquiry I made my suspicions were aroused, and on the morning of 9th August I gave the prisoner into custody—at that time I had not sufficient evidence to prove his receipt of the cheques, and he was only in custody for a day—about 1st September I applied for a warrant—that was after consulting a solicitor, and laying my information at the Policecourt—after the preliminary hearing, the prisoner was committed to take his trial on this charge.
Cross-examined. He very rarely travelled as far as Manchester, only once or twice, I think; it was not in his round; he went to Bradford, Leeds, York, Hull, Nottingham, Leicester, and Scarborough—he did not go to all those places in one week; his district included them—it was in April this year that I had the explanation with him; I can't say the exact date—he then said, as an explanation of his deficiencies, that he
had made allowances to customers; he did not give me the names; hero is the list—I see here "five bales of bacon refused by Mr. Wootton"—he left the list in the office with my clerk; I went away at my usual time—he did give me names, but it was not the truth—Knight is a name to whom allowances were made, but I knew nothing of him, or Austin—the only statement he made was that he had made some allowances, and that would account for a portion of his deficiency—this document came under my notice the following week—then the arrangement was made to repay me £1 a week—I always paid him his salary in full every Saturday, and he handed me back the £1 the record of this stands in my ledger—at the end of April the account does not stand with £35 against the prisoner, it is a great deal more—the ledger-keeper will tell you about that; he and the cashier are here—the prisoner produced two books before the Magistrate; this is one of them—on 19th February, 1889, it is here recorded that a balance of £9 7s. was against the prisoner, and is carried forward to 3rd April, 1890, with a balance of £36 5s. 10d. against him—I cannot say whether the discussion with the prisoner was after 3rd April; I don't know that it was in April—I have not looked up the matter—the sums put down as allowances are the amounts of the goods supplied—it was not with my consent that the allowances were repaid by £1 a week; I accepted the £1 a week on the deficiency up to the time of his leaving—the week ending 9th August I did not pay him—he would not be entitled to keep any money back—he could not very well remit coin, so it was permissible to him to hold that till he returned—on the 9th August a policeman was at my premises, I can't say at what time he arrived, I was there at ten minutes past nine, he was there then, and the prisoner also—he was called into my room after I had spoken to my cashier, and it was after my conversation with him that I gave him into custody; I was with him a very few minutes—I went to the station, and left him there in custody—the officer in charge gave him the particulars, and on what grounds I had given him in charge—I did not make any charge against him that was entered on the charge-sheet—he was released that day, I don't know at what time, there was no need for me to stay—he was discharged because we had not the proofs—the following Monday morning, the 11th, Mr. Tudd, the prisoner's brother-in-law, came to me—he did not ask for an explanation of my conduct to the prisoner—he asked me what was the matter, he told me the prisoner had been in difficulties before; that he had been a source of annoyance, and he had had to pay moneys for him—I told him the full particulars, I cannot say in what words—I very likely told him that I was going before the Magistrate next morning—he said he would produce the prisoner at any moment he was wanted, and gave me his name and address, and said there was no need to take out a warrant, that the prisoner would be forthcoming at any time to answer anything I had to bring against him—I knew that his address was St. Albans—I presumed he was living there—I did not know—I did not take out the warrant till the 31st August—I heard that he was arrested on Sunday night as he was coming from church—I believe he had been acting as organist there for some time—the prisoner was entitled to make allowances to my customers, but I must qualify that, if a customer had a fair claim, a small one, of half a crown or five shillings, he might allow it, but in a matter of pounds I should not allow him to
make it without submitting it to the house—my goods are not all of a perishable condition—I have customers named Painter, Doherty, Eyres and Wootton—unfortunately the prisoner has made large allowances to Painter without my knowledge; I think to somewhere about £20, but £130 is the amount he was deficient—I don't know of an allowance to Mr. Bingham of £16 in July, 1889, or of £30 to Mr. Doherty, or of £9 odd to Mr. Eyres, in July, 1890my cashier can explain these matters—I think we took some hams back from Mr. Eyres; I don't remember what the conditions were—I did not say that the only allowance I could make would be a diminution of eight shillings per cwt., but I should not dispute it if it was a fair claim—I remember we took some back from him; whether we sold them on his account I can't say—if the prisoner was in want of money while on his journey he need not have been—I should think he would fortify himself before starting out of the £7 that he was paid every Saturday; we do not pay weekly servants in advance as a rule—he would not be likely to go to a place without funds; if he had coin in his possession which he had not been able to forward he might use that, because he does not pay up till Saturday—I do not know that since these proceedings were taken he has found other employment; I did hear that he had made an application to a house whilst he was out on bail—I do not know that he is at this moment in the employment of Messrs. Taylor and Co., of Leicester; I should certainly be surprised at it; of course I should conclude that they did not know the facts of the case; they did not apply to me for his character; I should not go out of my way to tell Mr. Taylor.
Re-examined. The prisoner in one week would take places grouped together—he could make his own arrangements—it would be very exceptional for him to go to Scarborough, only in the season—if he had to use money of mine it would be his duty to account on the following Saturday when he returned—he might make certain allowances, but I don't believe these were ever made—I know nothing of them, but they seem about the amount of the bulk of goods—they would not come within the scale of allowance he was entitled to make—it would be his duty to enter all allowances in his daily sheets, and there are plenty of instances where he has allowed a trifle—there was no such entry in the prisoner's books for either of these three sums; he has made no remark about them; he never suggested they were allowances till after I asked him for an explanation—the amount he suggested for allowances did not cover the amount at all—I said I had nothing to do with them—he gave his theory of allowances as an excuse for deficiency to some extent—this paper is fictitious—I do not ratify these allowances now, and I did not then—he agreed to pay back the whole deficiency by £1 a week; that included the allowances—on Saturday any loose money he had received or that had been paid on his behalf he should have paid in or accounted for—the charge preferred on August 9th was distinct from this; it was for obtaining a cheque for £37 from Mr. Painter, for which the prisoner has not accounted to me—it is the subject of another indictment with two other charges—after 9th August Mr. Judd, the prisoner's brother-in-law, came to see me, and told me he had had previous difficulties with the prisoner—I did not ask him for particulars.
prisoner's duty to account to mo for moneys received for Mr. Parker—on Saturday we balance up—it was his duty to remit all cheques and notes the same day as he received them, and any loose cash he would balance on Saturday—cheques he received on Friday he would bring' with him on Saturday—it was his duty to send a daily sheet as to orders and money received—every Saturday he would make up his book as to the outstanding account between him and Mr. Parker—I should enter in my cash-book the amount I received day by day, and on the Saturday he made up his account in a small ledger from loose sheets and memoranda, and then I should check my cash-book with him, and the balance, if any, would be paid to me—this is the day-sheet for 31st July, showing the orders and money received by him for the firmon it the prisoner does not account for a cheque for £20 19s. 6d. paid by Mr. Boyce—it should have appeared on this sheet if received by him on that day, and been sent up to us—this is the cash-book the prisoner made up on the Saturday following the 31st July; there is no mention of this cheque for £20 19s. 6d., as there should have been if he received such a cheque—I received this day-sheet for 7th August from the prisoner; there is no account in it of a cheque for £11 4s. 6d. from Mr. Paxman, or of a cheque for £10 18s. 6d. from Mr. Piggott—there is no notification of either of those cheques in the cash-book on the following Saturday—none of those cheques have ever been paid in to Mr. Parker—the customer on paying money would obtain a receipt on a printed form from the prisoner, who would enter the name and amount on the counterfoil, with the discount or any little allowance he has made—this is a cheque drawn by Mr. Painter in favour of the prisoner for £37 4s. it was sent up without the prisoner debiting himself on this sheet, and I drew his attention to it, and it was paid into the credit of Mr. Parker—it is not one of the cheques charged—there is no note on the counterfoils of this receipt—book for 31st July of the cheque for £20 19s. 6d.; nor of the cheque for £10 from Piggott on 7th August, but there is a note on 7th August by the prisoner of the £11 4s. 6d. cheque.
Cross-examined. "When I was before the Magistrate on 10th September there were only two charges preferred against the prisoner, the first with reference to Boyce's, and the second with reference to Paxman's cheque—I was in Court while Mr. Parker was examined—I was cross-examined by Mr. Bodkin—I heard the question about allowances put to Mr. Parker, and I heard one name mentioned in connection with them—I stated that small allowances might be made, but not large ones in my opinion, and that you would search vainly in Mr. Parker's books for any authorised allowances, as there would be no tracing them if made without authority—on 9th August I got to the business premises at 7 o'clock—I think the constable came soon after eight, or five or six minutes before the prisoner came—the constable was in the warehouse—the prisoner came and spoke to me in the office, and remained there till Mr. Parker came, an hour or one and a quarter hour afterwards—he then saw the prisoner, who was given into custody—the sheet for 31st July shows a sending forward of a cheque for £18I don't recognise if this is the 'cheque—the sheet of 7th August shows a forwarding of notes £10I cannot say whether one of them was a country note—on 9th August the prisoner paid gold, ten guineas, and silver, ten shillings, £11 in all—the
doings of the 8th would be included in that money of the 9th, as there would be no paying-in sheet for Friday, the 8th.
JAMES BOYCE . I am a provision merchant, of 79 and 81, Stratford Road, Birmingham—on 31st July I gave the prisoner this cheque for £20 19s. 6d. for goods received by me from Mr. Parker—I knew him as traveller and collector for Mr. Parker—I got this receipt for £20 19s. 6d.
Cross-examined. He was the only traveller of Mr. Parker that I have known.
WALTER GEORGE ASSENDER . I am a tailor, of Corporation Street, Birmingham, and have supplied the prisoner with clothes—on 31st July he came and asked me to cash a cheque for him, telling me he had not sufficient money to pay his hotel bill, and I agreed, and he told me to stop a small account he owed me from it—he gave me this cheque for £20 19s. 6d., drawn by Mr. Boyce—I deducted £2 1s., the amount of his account, and gave him, at his request, this crossed cheque for £18 and 18s. 6d. in silver—the cheque he gave me was endorsed, and payable to order—it was not endorsed in my presence.
ELIJAH PAXMAN . I am a provision merchant, of Abingdon, Berkshire—I know the prisoner as travelling for Mr. Parker—on August 6th I gave him this cheque for £11 4s. 6d. on account of goods supplied to me by him on Mr. Parker's account—he may have given me a receipt, I cannot find it—I don't much think I had one—the cheque was payable to Mr. Parker or order.
Cross-examined. I cannot say if I cashed it by means of a £5 country note—to the best of my knowledge I gave him gold and silver—I cannot say if there was a note or not.
ERNEST EDWARD PIGGOTT . I am a provision merchant, at 33 and 34, the Market, Oxford—I know the prisoner as traveller and collector for Mr. Parker—I gave him this cheque for £10 18s. 6d. for money owing to Mr. Parker; I cannot fix the date—it is payable to E. R. Parker or order—this is the receipt I got.
BENJAMIN FORDHAM (Detective Sergeant G). On 1st September I went to the police-station, St. Albans, where I received the prisoner from the St. Albans police, who had arrested him on a warrant issued on 31st August for embezzling £32 4s. I took him to Old Street Police-station, St. Luke'—she was charged, and said nothing.
Cross-examined. The charges were as to the first two cheques of which we have heard to day—he had been arrested at St. Albans on the Sunday night.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. C. MATHEWS and MR. BODKIN Defended.
EDWARD RICHARD PARKER . The prisoner was employed by me as traveller and collector; I have told you the nature of his duties—as a result of our interview in April, he gave me, at my request, this list of certain allowances which he alleged he had made in respect of certain goods supplied
—I know nothing of the allowances—it was after there had been an inquiry about certain moneys short in the account—when he showed me this list of allowances I said, "I have nothing to do with allowances, because you have not had authority to do them; it is quite on account of yourself you have done it"—the way he did business was by sending on goods without orders—I repudiated all knowledge and sanction of allowances—he expressed his regret, and I thought it might be overlooked, and I allowed him to goon—I distinctly told him if he committed himself in that way again I should have to prosecute him—at the end of July I received this cheque for £37 4s., drawn by Mr. Painter, who is a customer at Worcester—on the following Saturday I said to the prisoner that I noticed a cheque had been received from Painter Brothers, but no account was given of it in his sheet—he said, "I gave them coin in exchange for it"—something was afterwards said to me about it—Mr. Charles Hastings, grocer at Leighton Buzzard, is one of the people on whom the prisoner would call—this is a cheque made payable to Cutting by Hastings—it was an unusual practice for cheques to be made out to him and not to me—I think I received this cheque on 2nd August, the Saturday of the account—I had no conversation with the prisoner about it—I have no knowledge what it was paid in respect of—Kirby is a grocer at Abingdon—I remember this cheque being paid in; as it was sent up, and there was no account on the contra side, and as he had given me information on the Saturday previous that he had given coin in exchange for the cheque for Painter, I telegraphed to Kirby, and received a telegram back—I am not sure if I said anything to the prisoner or what he said to me.
Cross-examined. The charge on which the prisoner was arrested was the embezzlement of £32 4s., made up of the sums named in the last indictment, and had nothing to do with this—I believe my evidence before the Magistrate was confined to those two charges; I don't know whether these were introduced—I forget if Mr. Painter was called before the Magistrate—Mr. Hastings and Mr. Kirby were not called think no charge of any description relating to these matters was then preferred against the prisoner—Mr. Painter was present before the Magistrate.
Re-examined. When the other facts came to my knowledge I charged him with the three, embezzlements we have inquired into—the present charges have been found out since the inquiry at the Police-court.
JOHN ORPEN TROWELL. This cheque for £37 4s. I received on 1st August (Friday)on the next (Saturday) morning I saw the prisoner and gave him his book, which he made up—there is no entry in his book of his having received any money from Painter Brothers that week; it should appear there if money had been paid by them in respect of goods supplied by the firm—I drew Mr. Painter's attention to the cheque—this £10 cheque from Mr. Hastings was brought up by the prisoner on the Saturday morning—MR. Hastings is not credited in this book with anything in respect of that £10; his name is not mentioned—it is not usual for the prisoner to present cheques payable to himself—I have only known him do it two or three times—there is no mark against the cheque showing what it is paid in respect of—it is included in the general body of money received from customers other than Hastings—on the two occasions when the sums of £37 4s. and £10 were entered, the money tallied with the book—if the cheques for £37 4s. and £10 had not been there
there would have been a deficiency on each occasion to that extent—I got this cheque of Kirby's for £20 on Friday morning, 8th August, I think—on the 9th, the prisoner made up his book, which tallied with the amount in mine, because it included the cheque for £20, which was not credited in any way to Mr. Kirby—on those three occasions Mr. Painter, Mr. Hastings, and Mr. Kirby have not been credited with the money which they paid into the firm, but the money with which they ought to have been credited was used by the prisoner to make up his book so as to make it tally with the account in my book.
Cross-examined. In this book on 29th July there is a cheque shown as returned by the prisoner for £5 17s. there is no name to iton July 30th are cheques for £17 11s. and £6 4s. 3d. with no names attached—there is no name to the Assender cheque—there are no names to the £37 4s., the £10, or the £20 cheques—there is gold, postal orders, and notes, in all £47 is accounted for—Mr. Painter's cheque for £37 4s. was forwarded to us, and with it the receipt-sheet of 31st July, setting out the £37 4s. when the prisoner came to account to me on 2nd August, the account was founded on the book I held and the book he held, each showing the receipt of £37 4s., but with no name attached to the item—no names are attached to any of the items on these pages, embodying all the cheques received in that week—that answer applies equally to the cheques for £10 and £20, no names are attached to them or to other cheques—in my book under date 6th August I find cheques £4 8s. 6d., cheque for £20, notes £10; gold 10 guineas; silver 10st here are no names in this cash-book, only amounts—the prisoner would send up no receipt-sheet on the Friday—the receipts for £10 from Hastings and £20 from Kirby would occur on Fridays, 1st and 8th August.
Re-examined. The different sums in his and my book tallied; there are no names there, but I know how much money was due from him, owing to the entries in the book—his book tallied with mine because of the inclusion of the £37 4st he £37 4s. was paid in as given by Mr. Painter to the prisoner for cash received by him from the prisoner, and we are £37 short.
WILLIAM PAINTER . I trade as Painter Bros., provision merchants, at 77, High Street, Worcester—I have been a customer of the prosecutor for two years and eight months, and have known the prisoner as his traveller—on 31st July I gave him a cheque for £37 4s., drawn to the order of Mr. E. R. Parker, for goods supplied by Mr. Parker—the prisoner gave me this receipt—it is not true that this cheque was given by me to the prisoner in respect of cash he gave me.
Cross-examined. I was not in attendance at the Police-Court—It was through the prisoner my account with Parker was opened, I did not know Parker before the prisoner introduced met—he only amount on the receipt carried forward in ink is for £13 2s. no amount is put over the stamp, only "Received"—by pencil additions the £13 2s. is made up to over £40, and then there is a reduction of £3 for discount and allowances.
Re-examined. I have no doubt I gave a cheque for £37 4s. to settle this account.
SAMUEL KIRBY . I am a grocer, of Bridge Street, Abingdon—I know the prisoner as travelling for Mr. Parker—on 6th August I gave him this cheque for £20, drawn to the order of Mr. E. R. Parker, for goods received
by me from Mr. Parker—there is no truth in the suggestion that I gave the prisoner this cheque in exchange for cash which he gave me. (Mr. Hastings was called, but did not answer.)
BENJAMIN FORDHAM (Detective Sergeant G). I arrested the prisoner on 1st September for £32 4s.
MR. MATHEWS submitted that the charge of embezzling the cheques could not be supported, as they had been given by the prisoner to the prosecutor. After hearing MR. BIRON, the RECORDER ruled that there was no case, and directed the JURY to return a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
CHARLES DODDS . I live at 5, Sussex Terrace, Alexandra Street, Southend—on 29th September, about nine a.m., I was walking up Brushfield Street, in the centre of the road—the prisoner rushed out from the right-hand side, punched me in the stomach below the belt with his fist, and snatched my watch and chain, and rushed down the street with it—my breath was taken away for a minute or two—he turned to see if I was coming—I started after him, and another man tried to trip me—the prisoner looked round again; another man tried to trip me—I saw my locket and part of my chain on the ground—I thought I had better not go further—I called "Police!" and picked up my chain and locket and put them in my pocket—I should say several confederates of the prisoner were there—I went to the station and gave an accurate description of the prisoner—coming away I met Mr. Goldstein; and I went with him to several public-houses—I saw the prisoner in a publichouse about an hour afterward—she was taken into custody, and then "Wagner, whom I had not seen at the time I was robbed, prodded an umbrella in my face and said, "Keep away, you cannot come here. "
ABRAHAM GOLDSTEIN . I am a tailor, of 110, Brick Lane—on 29th September I met Dodds in Embery Street, and went with him to Brushfield Street; on the way he looked down Paternoster Court, and said, "Here he is"—I saw the prisoner, who ran away when the prosecutor said that—I ran after him, and got hold of him at the corner of Commercial Street—I kept calling, "Stop thief!"—when I caught him, Wagner rushed at me, hit me in the face, and said, "Let him go"—I said, "I won't let him go"—she struck me again—the prisoner got Away from me and got down a basement, through my being ill-used—I did not leave the basement till a constable came and fetched him up.
ROBERT COLE (H 230). On 29th September I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and ran in the direction it came from—Goldstein said a man was down in the basement of a warehouse—I went into the warehouse and found the prisoner standing at the foot of the stairs with his jacket off and shirt sleeves turned up, as if he were a workman—I said I should
take him into custody for stealing a watch and chain—he said, "It will take you all your by time to prove that. "
The prisoner, in his defence, said a lot of people got hold of him and threw him down the basement, and that he took his coat off to see if it was torn.
The RECORDER directed the JURY to acquit Wagner.
WAGNER NOT GUILTY .
NASH GUILTY .
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
JOHN HARLOW . I live at 34, Storks Road, Bermondsey—I am a carman, in the employment of Ebenezer Shrimpton—on 29th September I was with the van on Tower Hill—there was one parcel of butter in the van—I was called from the warehouse—I left the van in charge of the van boy—off and on I was in the warehouse about an hour and three quarters, but before I returned that time about a quarter of an hour—when I came out I saw a cask of butter on the ground—it was worth about £4I charged the prisoner with stealing it.
RICHARD ALLEN . I live at 31, Storks Road, Bermondsey—on 29th September I was with Harlow as van boy—Harlow left the van—as I was standing against the van wheel a man came up to the van as if he was going to make water—when I turned round I saw the man beckoning to somebody else—a minute afterwards I saw two men's legs behind the van, and a cask of butter on the ground—I went round to the back of the van, and found it was our butter—I caught hold of the prisoner—he threw me off—a policeman came across the road and caught him—the prisoner is one of the two men I saw—the other beckoned.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not see you take the butter out of the van—I saw you with it on the ground—I did not see you cross the road—the other man only pretended to make water—I do not know what you said—you did not pay, "That is the man it belongs to."
ALBERT BANGS (H 170). I saw the prisoner with another man and a tub of butter on the ground—as I was proceeding towards them the boy ran from the front of the van, and caught hold of the prisoner, who threw him off—the other man ran away—I took the prisoner into custody—he said he was going to give the other man a lift up—both were going to carry it.
The Prisoner's Defence: I am innocent. The butter was on the ground, and the other man asked me to give him a lift up with it.
GUILTY . Four Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT. Friday, October 31st, 1890.
—on the night of 1st October I was going home—I met the prisoner in Holborn—he asked me, and I gave him a penny to get a drink—I took it from my right-hand trousers pocket—then he wanted a loaf; I had two, and I gave him one—they are loaves eaten with oysters; there is butter in them—he followed me, knocked mo down, rifled my pockets, and took five shillings, and the purse which contained it, from my left-hand trousers pocket—he got in front of me, and threw me on my back—I called, "Police"—he kicked me on my back and hurt mea young man and a constable came up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You struck me in the back—the robbery was in Drake Street, Theobalds Road—you ran away, and a witness fetched you back—I was on my back—the witness took you by the collar—you were arrested in Theobalds Road—you followed me through Drake Street—I had the loaves loose in my pocket—you were making for Red Lion Square.
THOMAS JENNINGS . I live at 52, Great Ormond Street—I am gasfitter at the Oxford Music Hall—I was coming along Drake Street, Theobalds Road, on 2nd October, just before 1 a.m.—I saw the prisoner holding the prosecutor on the ground—he pushed him down on his back—the prosecutor called out, "Stop thief!" and "Police!"—I went to his assistance—I am quite sure the prisoner pushed him down with his two hands—I stopped him and caught him by the collar—he threatened to kick me inside out—I held him about five minutes until a constable came—I did not lose sight of him—I was first about forty yards off—the street is rather dark; there is only a lamp.
CHARLES HARTNELL (E 189). At 1 a.m. on October 2nd, in consequence of information, I went to Drake Street—the prosecutor gave the prisoner in charge for stealing a purse and five shillings—at the station the prisoner said he hoped he should get justice in the morning—I searched him and found a shilling in bronze—the prosecutor and the prisoner had been drinking, but were not drunk.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It is the first time I ever committed myself through a drop of drink. "
Prisoner's Defence: May I be as low as my father in my grave, I never committed this crime. He could buy a roll and butter with what he had. He was going home; the witness made a mistake, and stuck to it and to him, and tried to strangle him till the policeman came up, and he was given into custody.
GUILTY OF ASSAULT . Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. CULLING Prosecuted, and MR. HUGGINS Defended.
CHARLES HARRIS . I am a confectioner, of 32, Church Lane, Whitechapel—I was baking late, and went to bed about two a.m. on Monday, 29th September—when in bed I heard somebody by the private street door, then somebody put the key in and opened it—I was about to get through the window, as I was frightened, but I went through the parlour door, and came right in the prisoner's face—I knew him—I am sure it was he—he was in the passage near the street door—he ran out; the door was open—I shut it when I went to bed—I only followed him to the
corner because I was not dressed—I saw him run through Colchester Street—I went in to dress myself, and went out again, but could not see him—I next saw him at one o'clock; I followed him to where he lives—Benjamin Cohen, the master's son, gave him into custody—I am Mr. 'Cohen's journeyman—the house is his—my work is day work—I had worked with the prisoner twelve months before.
Cross-examined. I had finished work about one o'clock—I then had supper and went with the daughter to the other shop in Spitalfields to see what they were doing so late, and they were baking cakes for a private customer—the son was in the house—the shop is in a busy street—there was no gas alight then—my room is on the ground floor; I sleep in the parlour—the policeman comes round about 12 or 12.30, and I sometimes hear him, but not at two o'clock—there was a little light in the parlour—two daughters and two boys are in the house; about nine people with the servants—they sleep on the first and second floors—there are two rooms on each floor—Mr. Cohen's daughter and two children sleep on the second floor—an old woman and a little girl sleep on the second floor—I do not know that any of them heard the key—I was afraid, and went to throw myself out of the window—it is not far—I never had a row with the prisoner—a week ago he wanted to come into my business—he cannot take my place—no words passed about it—he is a baker—I did not speak to him on the Monday till I found him at the top of Church Lane—I did not know where he lived—I have not said I saw him on Monday; and made no charge against him.
Re-examined. There is a catch-lock, but no bolt on the door.
By MR. HUGGINS. I heard the prisoner was first charged with gambling, but it is not my business to ask people their business.
Cross-examined. The prisoner worked for me twelve months ago, once about a week—he worked where I was three or four weeks—Harris does the confectionery—I have nothing to do with the management of 32 the prisoner worked fairly well—as far as I know he is a gambler.
WILLIAM BOGAN (H 222). I saw the prisoner in bed at 25, St. George's Terrace, on Tuesday, 30th September—I charged him with burglary at 32, Church Lane—he said, "I know nothing of the matter whatever"—he was searched—I found this key (produced)it fits his box where he lives—I searched the house and found four pawn-tickets relating to his own coats.
Cross-examined. The prisoner lives in the neighbourhood—I do my rounds there, and try the doors sometimes—the people are not very rich.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT. Saturday, November 1st, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted.
in King Street, Hammersmith, about 1.40 I saw the prisoners enter the garden of 1, Bridge Avenue—they remained there about two minutes, then entered the garden of No. 3, the adjoining house—I said something to Lock, my colleague, who went to the garden of No. 3, when the prisoners ran away—I followed Edmunds 100 yards, caught him, and asked him what he was doing in the gardens of Nos. 1 and 3he said he was not doing anything, he did not go in the garden, and he would rather round on his mates than get into trouble—he meant he would say who they were—I went to some Chamber's in Waterloo Street about 2 a.m. on 9th October, and took Trigg into custody; he was in bed—I am sure he was one of the other—she denied all knowledge of it—I told him I should take him for being concerned, with two others, in attempting to break into No. 3he said he knew nothing about it—Edmunds and Trigg told me they were going to Covent Garden Market—I accompanied' Inspector Fry to Barnes on 9th October, at 9.30 p.m.—Fry took Orbell, and I identified him as one of the others—they remained in the garden gateway about six minutes.
Cross-examined by Edmunds. We stood at the top of the turning, and we went into the garden together.
By the JURY. Fry and I examined the premises—we found a mark such as would be made by a chisel—I found a box of matches on Edmunds.
By the COURT. Where we stood we could not see the front door—I did not see them go near the door.
CONSTANCE HERBERT. On Saturday, 4th October, I was living at 3, Bridge Avenue—I had been there a year and five months—Inspector Fry woke me up about 2 a.m.—I opened the front door—he called my attention to a mark near the lock—it was quite fresh—I had not seen it before—it was a chip about half an inch wide—No. 3, Bridge Avenue is occupied by Mrs. Drewry.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
RAYNHAM STEWART . I am a veterinary surgeon, of 23, Suffolk Road Stamford Hill—on Friday, 10th October, I was crossing Kingsland Road from the urinal—I felt a shove, and heard the word "Night," or "Right," and then I received a blow in the pit of my stomach, and another, and another; I was throttled, and my watch and chain taken from me—there were two or three men—I recognised the prisoner because he had me by my throat—I tried to follow them, but could not, my breath was out of me—the value of the watch and chain is £4 the men ran away—I followed the prisoner ten yards, but he was forty yards away—I next saw
him at Kingsland Road Police-station on the Sunday following, incustody—I recognised his face in the dock—I did not pick him out—as he grasped me by the throat I stared at him.
WILLIAM HUNT . I am a timber porter, of 13, York Road—on Friday night, the 10th October, about 6 p.m., I saw the prisoner and a man not in custody attempt to rob a woman of a parcel—about eight o'clock I and another saw the prisoner cross from the Pearson Arms; we crossed him, had a drink; coming out, we saw the prisoner walk out of the urinal, saying to the other man, "All right"—both then walked to the urinal and met the prosecutor coming out—they punched him about the body—the prisoner caught him by his throat, and the other man stole the watch—I closed in with the people and kept the prisoner in view, but in the crowd he got away—I identified him at Kingsland Road Police station from among a dozen to fourteen others—I recognised him at once—I have known him by sight previously—I have seen him run behind traps.
CHARLES JOHNSON . I am a timber salesman, of 3, Norfolk Villas—I was with Hunt on 10th October—about 8 p.m. we saw the prisoner and another man come through Pearson Street, follow the prosecutor round by the Pearson Arms; the prosecutor went into the urinal—while he was there the prisoner went round and looked and came back, and said it was all right; then the two men walked round sharp and met the prosecutor coming out of the urinal, struck him about the body, and knocked him down in York Road—as the prisoner came back we closed on him, but he mixed with the crowd, and got away—both closed up to the prosecutor, and the prisoner had hold of his throat—I identified the prisoner from fourteen or fifteen me at Kingsland Road Police-station—I had known him by sight.
ALFRED GOULD (Sergeant F). I arrested the prisoner about 1 p.m. on September 11th at the Britannia public-house, Kingsland Road, seeing he answered the description—upon perceiving me he bolted into the public-house—we found him in the water-closet, standing, with his clothing as it is now—I called him out and told him I should take him in-custody, and, if identified, he would be charged with assaulting, with another man, a man in the Kingsland Road last Friday night about eight o'clock—he said, "I did not see the watch; if I did, I must put up with it"—I took him to the station—he was placed among about a dozen others, and identified by the two last witnesses.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "These two men have known me for a long time. They said they would make it hot for me at the station. They have a spite against me." He repeated this statement in his defence, and added that the witnesses had had a row with him, and always followed him about, and wanted to swear his life away; that the policeman said he would put him away; and he meant he must put up with that when he' said "I suppose I must put up with it."
GUILTY .*—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in February,1889. Twelve Months Hard Labour.
NEW COURT. Saturday, November 1st, 1890.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ANN WHEELER . My husband is a labourer, of 2, Hamilton Place, Hammersmith—the prisoner is his niece—I was present at her marriage with Charles Purdy, at St. Peter's Church, Hammersmith; I said 13 or 14 years back, but it is not quite so long—I saw her husband on the day this charge was taken—I have not seen him often during the last few year—she has been living in Oil Mill Lane, Hammersmith, and the prisoner lived in Denman Street, about twenty minutes' walk from Oil Mill Lane—I have not seen much of her during that time—I did not see her last year—she has children by her second husband—I did not know they were married; I thought they were living together—she went by the name of Newell of late years—I had no talk with her about her first husband, though I know he was alive—I do not know how long they lived together; I have not seen them together for years—I do not know when they parted.
CHARLES WILLIAM LUCAS . I am verger at St. John's Church, Hammersmith—I was present on 7th May last at the marriage of Sarah Purdy and William George Newell, and signed the register as a witness; I supplied this copy—the prisoner is the person.
WILLIAM ROSE (Police Inspector T). I produce a certificate. (This certified the marriage of Charles Purdy, bachelor, and Sarah Ann Wheeler, spinster, at St. Peter's Church, Hammersmith, on July 22nd, 1878)I also produce this certificate. (This certified the marriage of William George Newell, bachelor, and Sarah Purdy, widow, at St. John's Church, Hammersmith, on May 7th, 1889) I have compared them with the original; they are correct—I arrested the prisoner at Barham Street, Hammersmith; the prisoner Newell (See next case) gave her in charge when he gave himself up—she said, "It is all through him; I wish I had never seen him; he has done this because I won't keep him. "
By the COURT. I took the charge against the second husband, and the prisoner was sworn and gave evidence at the Police-courts—he said in my hearing, "I have not seen or hoard anything of Charles Purdy for six years until six months ago, when my aunt made a communication to me; before my aunt spoke to me I believed him to be dead—it is about half a mile from the prisoner's house to Oil Mill Lane; he lived there several years, I believe.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "Living with Newell as his wife so long, and believing him to be single, and as I was told I was single after so many years, I was married to him. "
Prisoner's defence. I lived with him as his wife ten years, and for the last twelve or fourteen months I have been his wife on account of my young children.
NOT GUILTY .
duty in Queen Street, Hammersmith, and the prisoner came up to me and said, "I wish to give myself up for bigamy"—he was quite sober—I took him to the station—he said that the woman he went through the second form of marriage with was living at 81, Barham Street—I made inquiries, and found it true—he said his wife was living close to Shepherd's Bush Station with another man—I found her living at 110, Askew Road; she accompanied me to Hammersmith Police station—I produce two certificates. (The first certified the marriage of William Newell, bachelor, and Jane George, spinster, at St. Stephen's Church, Hammersmith, on 24th May, 1874; the second was of the marriage of the prisoner and Sarah Purdy, read in the last case)I have compared them with the originals, and found them correct.
GEORGE NEWELL . I am an ostler, of 132, King Street, Hammersmith—the prisoner is my son—I was present at his marriage with Jane George, on 24th May—I know nothing about his second marriage, but he knew that his wife was alive, and his second wife knew that also—he had seen her often up to three years ago.
By the COURT. I have had no quarrel with my son—his wife has been living with another man, and has four children by him—she has not married anybody else—she has been living with him nine years—ray son told me that he saw his wife the last time at Starch Green—he has not been living with me, or I with him.
Re-examined. The last time he told me he had seen his wife was three years ago.
SARAH PURDY (the prisoner in the last case). I am a shirt-ironer, of 81, Barham Street, Hammersmith—I was married to Charles Purdy on 22nd July, 1878, at St. Peter's Church, Hammersmith, and I went through the form of marriage with the prisoner at St. John's Church, Hammersmith on 7th May, 1889he described himself as a bachelor—I believed my former husband was dead—I called myself a widow; it was thirteen years since I had heard of him—I lived nine or ten years with the prisoner before I married him, and had two boys and a girl by him—I had no family by my first husband—the prisoner and I had a few words, and he said he should give himself up and set me in a chair; I do not know what that means.
By the COURT. He treated me better after marriage than he did before; he treated me badly when he was drunk—I suggested our marriage on account of our children—I have had no children since our marriage—he showed no reluctance to marry me.
Prisoner's defence. In 1874 I had a separation order from my wife, and have not seen her or heard from her since, and heard four or five months ago that she was dead; but three weeks ago I heard that she was not dead, but was living with a man named Green, and had children, and then I gave myself up.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY. Three Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT. Wednesday and Thursday, October 22nd and 23rd, and
OLD COURT. Monday and Tuesday, October 27th, and 28th, and Monday, November 3rd, 1890.
Before Mr. Recorder.
808. BERNARD BOALER, Unlawfully publishing false and defamatory libels of and concerning Edward Broadhurst and others, directors of the Briton Medical and General Life Association, Limited, to which he pleaded NOT GUILTY and a justification.
MR. COCK, Q. C., MR. FORREST FULTON, and MR. MUNRO Prosecuted.
CHRISTOPHER ATKINSON NEWNHAM , J. P. and M. R. C. S. I live at 10, King Street, Wolverhampton—on 19th August I received this document in a halfpenny wrapper; the postmark is August 18th. (This was a lithographed circular containing the libel)I made a note on the back of it and sent it to Mr. Hardy by return of post—I subsequently gave evidence before Sir John Bridge.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I became a shareholder in the company on 13th January, 1857; my shares are 5531 to 5555 this (produced) is the original deed of settlement; it is executed by John Messent by his attorney duly appointed—I no doubt gave a power of attorney, but it is too far back to say—I cannot swear to your writing—I did not notice that this "Harman, Esq.," is in a different writing to the rest—I think the envelope of this letter is not your writing—I wrote on the letter, "My dear Mr. Hardy, I daresay you have seen this; can you extinguish this Boaler?" because I thought you had given the association trouble enough—by "extinguish" I meant stop the persecution you have been carrying on against the company; I consider you have been attempting to ruin me as a policyholder by the expense you have put the company to—I have received circulars from you, and have seen in the public prints the various actions that have been carried on—I do not know that since this prosecution has been going on Mr. Clay and Mr. Broadhurst have gone to Bow Street and pleaded guilty to one of the charges in this letter—it is very difficult to keep the register of shareholders perfectly correct. (The original register of shareholders was here produced by the prosecution at the prisoner's request)I see here the names of John Messent for 100 shares, 1586 to 1685I see in the margin," £5 paid"—the name of Thomas Bevan Jones is put over Messent's name, and it is initialled "J. M. "the next entry is John Pickersgill, 100 shares, with £l per share paid up on them"—Pickersgill" is struck out, and Thomas Bevan Jones is put over it—the next is Benjamin "Weston Wells; that is struck out, but no name is put over—over the page there are two more fives, and Thomas B. Jones is written over—George Chapman comes next for shares, 1886 to 2135 further on I find the name of John Mark Jaquemot, who is put down as paying £1 per share—the next is Carr Sharp, over which is Samuel Richards, £l per share—I do not find that 10 shares
are left out—the next name is Richard Manton, 2736 to 2835; it does not go to 2885. (MR. COCK here stated that as these transactions were twenty-eight years ago, and the witness knew nothing about them, he would put Mr. Twort into the box, who knew most about the case).
WILLIAM ALFRED TWORT . I am clerk to the Medical General Life Association, Victoria Embankment—I am acquainted with Boaler's writing—this wrapper is in his writing, and this lithographed circular is a facsimile of his writing, except the name of Newnham at the bottom.
Cross-examined. I have often seen you write—I have stood at your elbow on many occasions, and I stood opposite you when you were writing within the last three weeks, when you were taking extracts from the minute book—I have produced the register of members to you twenty or thirty times, and on each occasion you paid me 1s.—this is the summary; we have produced all we have in the office on many occasions—I took my instructions from the secretary, Mr. Hardy, and by his orders I only produced the last one—it was Counsel's advice, I believe, to the directors that you were not to see what the Act of Parliament said you had a right to see—I believe I have heard you say in the office that the register has been falsified.
Re-examined. The defendant came very often to the office to examine documents, and make extracts, and I have been able to form an opinion of his writing.
The Prisoner. I admit that the handwriting is mine.
Cross-examined. I saw you on the stairs here on the last occasion—I came here at Messrs. Rowcliffe's suggestion; they have paid me a guinea—this was posted between 5.15 and 7 p.m., to the best of my belief, on the 18th, but the date is not quite distinguishable.
ROBERT KEATING CLAY , J. P. I am a solicitor, practising in Dublin, ad am Chairman of the Briton Life Association, formed under the deed of settlement of February 1st, 1854 there are two deeds; this is the first, the second was on January 3rd, 1861 they are both herein 1862 the new Companies Act came into operation, and on November 3rd, 1862, it was registered under that Acton 5th March, 1863, the name was changed to the Briton Medical and General Life Association, and on 17th August, 1863, it was incorporated—the original capital was £50,000, and on 6th February, 1856, there was a second issue of another £50,000on 5th March, 1863, there was another issue of £100,000in 1857 and 1862 the Equitable and the Brunswick Life were amalgamated with it—in 1885 Mr. Messent, the secretary, died, and it was discovered that he had committed robberies to the extent of over £100,000on 8th January, 1886, a petition was presented to the Court of Chancery for the winding up of the company, or the reduction of the contracts—on the 13th a liquidator was appointed: Mr. Henry Dever, of Lothbury—the object was to remodel it in consequence of Messent's frauds—Mr. Justice Kay made the order, and reports were obtained on the assets and liabilities, and sent to every policyholder and shareholder—on 11th August there was a meeting, when it was decided to reconstruct, and not to wind upon 19th July the scheme was affirmed by the Court of Appeal—before that was done a committee of nine
policyholders was appointed to consider what course should be taken—Mr. Webb and Mr. Brown were the two remaining directors of the old board—seven policyholders were appointed to act for the new company, more as trustees than directors—the company" was being carried on for the benefit of the policyholders and the shareholders, if the thing turned out, as it has turned out—there were resolutions altering the qualifications of the directors under the Order of the Court—on 18th February, 1887, the resolution as to the qualification of directors was passed, and the new board was appointed: Mr. Broadhurst, of Grosvenor Street, London; Mr. Holman, a solicitor, of Lewes; Dr. Gale, of Plymouth; Mr. Smith, of Birmingham; myself, and Mr. Henry Hudson, and we received instructions to elect the late Member for Holborn, who remained chairman till 16th November, when he died, and I was elected chairman afterwards—these resolutions were submitted by the liquidator to Mr. Justice Stirling, and approved of by him, and on 19th July, 1887, the company was handed over to the new directors—there has been a great deal of litigation with Boaler, but he has no status whatever in the company—his right to search our books is under the Act of 1862, that any one can do so on payment of one shilling—there have been a very large number of orders for costs against him amounting to over £1,000, and I think the policyholders at the end of the year will have lost £12,000.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A committee was formed, called the London Central Committee of Policyholders; Mr. Hudson was the first chairman; I attended its meeting in 1886I was a policyholder; I gave £500 in 1872; this policy was on O'Brien's life; it was my money; I handed it to O'Brien, and it was assigned to me absolutely, but I shall only get back about £300I bought the policy in the Bankruptcy Court,. Dublin, when he was declared bankrupt—I have also purchased another policy, as my life was not insured; it was necessary to hold two policies to be a director, and I have been re-elected this year on my two policies, which stood in my name long before—I have a £1,000 policy now, and you libelled me as a director of 1890, not as a director of 1887I was appointed on 18th February, 1887, which was confirmed on September 9th and 10th, 1887; I was re-elected in 1888 and 1890; the association was in liquidation up to the time Justice Kay decided that it should be reconstructed—you commenced an action in the High Court of Justice in 1888 to test the legality of my appointment, and it has been decided over and over again; all your charges went to impugn the second deed of settlement; you abandoned the charges; that action is not pending now—an action was commenced by Mr. George Norley, of Manchester, contesting the validity of my appointment; he was put up by you, he has no means of payment—I am not aware whether it is set down for trial—one share is the qualification required for a director, but before the order was made 2,000 shares was the qualification, upon which £2 had been paid up—the qualification was reduced by this special resolution of the shareholders. (Produced, dated 24th December, 1886The RECORDER informed the prisoner that all questions relating to matters previous to 1886 were utterly irrelevant). there is no time for affixing the company's seal to the minutes, so long as it is done by the proper officer—there are seven directors now, and a quorum is four—we are not paying the costs of this prosecution out of the company's funds—you sent these libels to our share holders, and I was privy to this circular
being sent out (Stating that the whole of the prisoner's allegations were without foundation); but we refrained from sending them to a single policyholder—Mary Page was a widow—I do not know that she was between eighty and ninety—I never saw her—I got a transfer from her, and paid £5 for it—in your letter of March, 1888, you stated that Mr. Dever deceived the Court and Judge, and everybody else; but the libels on Mr. Dever sink into insignificance; you accused him of suppressing property, and of direct fraud on this widow—I know nothing about the transfer, or what Mr. Dever paid; he presented it to us, we accepted the shares, and paid up our £5Mr. Dever did it behind our backs—we were balloted for, and seven of us turned up—I believe the balance-sheets down to 1884 were false in one respect, so far as having shown that a profit was earning, I believe them to be utterly wrong and dishonest; that was when Mr. Messent was secretary, and they were also wrong in the statement of loans being outstanding; no doubt Messent was a party to those balance-sheets, and abstracted very large sums—a number of those balance-sheets were signed by Mr. Francis Webb, a director of the company; you summoned him to the Police-court, and Mr. Dever was produced, and Mr. Yaughan dismissed the case—this is form D for January 1st, 1888, and this is the balance-sheet of 31st December, 1887 £674 148. lid. is written off as a bad debt; this was audited, and we had nothing to do but to accept it—that amount refers to Allen Ade and Mary "Wood—they are included in the £72,443 Os 9d. capital account at the end of 1887, but not fraudulently. (As the prisoner persisted in asking questions upon matters which occurred previous to 1887, the RECORDER informed him that unless he proceeded with his justification, the witness would be ordered to leave the box)I believe the balance-sheet of December 31st, 1889, does not include the £674 14s. lid.—that applies also to the previous balance-sheets—I do not put all the onus on Mr. Dever, I put it on the auditors and on the policyholders auditors—you have no right to say that a balance-sheet is a fraud, we have committed no fraud; the accounts are not untrue. (The prisoner persisted in asking the witness irrelevant questions, and the RECORDER ordered the witness to stand down. This closed the case for the Prosecution, but the prisoner claimed that Mr. Hardy should be called, his name being on the indictment.)
RALPH PRICE HARDY . I am the actuary and secretary of this association His in Norfolk Street, Strand—on 2nd August I received this document by post—the clerk opened it—it is in Boaler's writing, to the best of my knowledge; it is signed by him—I believe the envelope is Boaler's writing, too—on 6th August Boaler left this letter at the counter himself (produced)—I met him a few yards outside—the envelope is also in his writing.
Cross-examined. I opened the last letter; it was addressed to the association—I did so by the directors authority; I know they are directors, because I was present when they were elected—I was appointed secretary by the board in July, 18871 do not know whether you applied to the Queen's Bench Division to have your name put on the list of members—the facts then stated in your affidavit are a true record in my opinion—I preferred this information against you at Bow Street on 28th August this year—I was instructed to do so by a resolution of the board; and it is true to say that they did not let an hour elapse—I lithographed your letter on the Saturday, and had instructions on the
Monday to lay it before counsel—you have attended many times at the company's office for purposes of your own, which I will not describe—you have done your duty to your co-conspirators—I decline to say who they are—you have done your best to rob the policyholders of £80,000; I believe that amount has been taken from them—you said over and over again that there was a great amount of bogus capital in the association—your conduct has been extraordinary, but I have never charged you with lying, though your statements have been reckless, beyond all possible excuse, but I never caught you in an actual lie—you have done your best to get your share of the plunder—I accuse you of conspiring with persons whose names I shall not mention, lest I should subject myself to prosecution, to destroy the capital of the association, and get the concern into your own hands; miserable widows have been plundered by you—these accounts (produced by the prisoner) were not made out by the directors who you have libelled—I did not sign a balance-sheet for the Board of Trade in 1884; I only certified a copy, and they might put it in their wastepaper-basket for what I know or cared—I did not know till the other day that they put it in their Blue-book—I signed it merely by way of identification; the official account had been completed eighteen months before I came upon the scene, by Mr. Dever—all your allegations as to keeping false balance-sheets and having stolen £10,000 are false, and are but forward for your own purposes—a certain £10,000 was a sum referred to by Mr. Page as received by Mr. Dever from the Briton Life Association—I know that Mr. Dever did receive it, I traced it into his books and found that the next day he bought stock with it—that £10,000 does not appear in the revenue account for 1886, and very properly not; it was the repayment of capital, but it was included in the assets put before the policyholders at Cannon Street Hotel and at St. James's Hall—that £10,000 was the result of a compromise between this association and the Briton. (The prisoner was again several times cautioned to keep to the point) The whole of this question was discussed before Mr. Vaughan, and the two accounts put into Mr. Clay's hands were shown to agree exactly—it is not a fact that with regard to form E there was a conviction at Bow Street on one item only, it was long before that, eighteen months ago—you took out a summons under form D, and I applied to have you examined in Court in consequence of the enormous costs you had put us to, and we did get an examination before an examiner, who you defied.
The JURY here stated that they had heard enough, and as the prisoner would not keep to the point the RECORDER adjourned the Court.
The prisoner in a very long and diffusive address, explained that he became a shareholder in this company by the purchase of some unpaid up shares, that although the directors cancelled those shares he considered that they gave him a locus stand which justified him in the course he had pursued, in calling the attention of the shareholders to what he alleged to be the irregularities and misstatements in the accounts and balance-sheets, for which the directors were answerable. He urged several legal objections, but as he specially retained Counsel to argue them, it was arranged that those points should stand over till the next Session.
BERNARD EDWARD BROADHURST (Examined by the Prisoner), I am acting as a director of the Briton Medical Life Association—I was elected a director in February, 1887I was at that meeting as a policyholder—
I am unable to say when I got my shares, the date of the transfer is 14th January, 1887I paid for the whole of the shares to Mary Page; I think they are £3 shares—the deed of settlement consists of two deeds—I daresay I have examined it—I do not find your name there—there was a report by Mr. Hardy to the board dated 19th June, 1888 that report was discussed at a board meeting—as I am a director, I imagine I am one of your prosecutors—I have always agreed with my colleagues at the board—I signed the balance-sheet of 1887 the liquidator placed all the accounts before us, and we knew that they were accurately drawn up—no doubt the amount of £684 18s. lid. has been analysed; I have not seen the analysis; it was analysed by Mr. Hardy, and I believe by Mr. Dever—I daresay I wrote this letter of January 17Mr. Hudson was elected a director. (The prisoner called for several documents, which were produced, but which referred to matters which the Court held to be irrelevant)Sir Alexander Armstrong was a director of the old company. (The JURY declined to listen to anything which happened in 1886)our accountant, Mr. Dever, is responsible for the balance-sheet—I received it from him, and accepted it £6,000 or a little more was received by the association on allotment of shares—I am sure Mr. Hardy's accounts are correct, and they are always submitted to Mr. Dever; he is responsible for them all—I do not know that the board paid you £9 6s., or any money; if they did I think it was a mistake—I have not seen the receipts given by you in March, 1888, for information given to the association—I have no recollection of the contents of a letter and telegram from you to the board on 9th December, 1887.
Cross-examined. These are the two deeds of settlement of this company (produced)I am one of the directors—I have not the slightest doubt that those two sheets referred to in the libel are perfectly bona fide and strictly honest, and they were submitted to the shareholders.
By the JUST. I believe this deed to be binding upon the association; I do not know that the original deed could not be altered at all, unless at a meeting of shareholders, but I believe that supplementary deeds must have been submitted to a general meeting; I have not looked at the minute-book to see. (MR. COCK dated that the prisoner was referring to matters twenty-seven years ago.)
ALFRED JAMES HARMAN . I am a solicitor, and am acting for Mr. George Morley in an action against some of these directors—a writ was issued on 22nd February, 1890, against Bernard Edward Broadhurst, Robert Keating Clay, and James Gale Withers—one of the objects of that action was a declaration that those gentlemen were not directors of the association, and to restrain them from acting as such, and that Mr. Ralph Price Hardy was not a director, and to restrain him—I have two letters written by Mr. Hardy and Mr. Morley—Mr. Morley, by my advice., refused to give certain information.
FREDERICK HOLMAN . I am a policyholder—I believe Mr. Hardy laid an information against you at Bow Street for libel—I was there when you called upon Mr. Broadhurst to answer to his subpoena; both the witnesses and Mr. Smith were not in attendance—Mr. Dankwertz, the counsel, represented the association—you called for the original appendages to this report, and Mr. Dankwertz stated several times that the association had not got them—they were in Court at the very time, and were produced.
A. J. HARMAN (Re-examined). I was not at Bow Street when Brown and Webb were there—I believe I was at the meeting when the call of £5 per share was made, I cannot recollect the date—I have no recollection of a notice of any irregularity—I do not know where this item came from, "By calls paid by shareholders which never reached the association, £900 "I do not know how the total was made up, I may have known at the time—I believe the details of the other items were given—I did not think it was a very serious thing for you to say that £674 18s. 11d., which had been put into the balance-sheet, had not been received; I had heard so many allegations from you that I thought nothing of it—I am one of the gentlemen prosecuting you.
Cross-examined. There is no foundation whatever for the charge that the directors were keeping back evidence—I can speak to what took place in the board-room.
By the Prisoner. The board did not resolve to give every facility to Mr. Webb to disprove your allegations—I believe this letter (produced) was the subject of the board's resolution—Mr. Webb had been a shareholder from 1856, and had acted as a director from 1856 to 1880 you have charged all the directors during that time with issuing a great number of bogus shares—I am not aware that we assisted Mr. Webb in his controversy with you—I believe Mr. Brown was the auditor of the company from 1862 to 1885he became a director, but I cannot fix the date; he was a director at the time of presenting the petition to wind-up.
BERNARD BOALER (The prisoner). On 5th September, 1887, I bought thirty shares from George Tatton, for which I paid him £1, and took a transfer from him, which I sent to the company—on 23rd February, 1888, I entered into a written contract with D. Sanders to buy 145 shares in the association, and paid him £1 on account; he sold 55, and I bought the residue—it remained on the register over thirty years, and those shares were continued all along; the numbers of them were 4,731 to 4,735I paid him £1, which I took this receipt for on 23rd February, 1888, and the balance, £9, on 9th March, 1888on 11th May the same year I took the transfer to the company's office for registration, as I was bound to do by the deed of settlement, within twelve months—on April 1st, 1889, I called at the office and required the deed of the association to be produced for me. to execute it; that was, within twelve months, but I was refused—this transfer has never been presented to the present directors—I also bought five shares from John Wright, of Birmingham, and took a transfer from him on 21st June, 1888, which has been tendered to the association—that was three lots of shares, and certain persons, my prosecutors, took upon themselves to send a letter' to me, stating that they refused to register the shares; I appealed to the High Court for an order to take out the name of Sanders and insert my name instead, but they stated that my application ought to be by way of action—I then commenced an action (MR. COCK here produced the judgment, by which it appeared that the prisoner's action was dismissed with costs)it was stated, and a bill was posted in the company's office on August 4th, 1890, that the capital was 200,000 shares of £10 each, which was false, as the capital was £60,000 only—the number of shares issued was 17,710; but the books show 20,000 issued, and 1,960 of them are in duplicate—up to December, 1880, it was represented that £2 per share had been received on all the shares; the balance-sheet of 31st December, 1889, shows that £107,905
14s. 11d. had been received, and the books of the association show that £108,512 6s. 4d. was received; there is £600 11s. 4d. difference; the balance-sheet now before me fails to the tune of £600 11s. 4.; and it is not a bad debt. (MR. COCK explained that the prisoner had taken the directors to the Police-court upon this question, and that it had been decided against him. The prisoner then stated that he did not intend to give any more evidence in support of his plea, upon which MR. COCK claimed that the plea of justification had failed, and the only remaining question now was whether the prisoner published the libel.)
The prisoner. I wrote the original of the letter of August 18th; I wrote it on a separate piece of paper, and after having written it I never saw it again.
Cross-examined by MR. COCK. I wrote the original of this letter to Mr. Newnham, and laid it on a desk—I do not know who printed it—I did not write the address, and do not know who did—I have some idea who printed the document, but I am not going to tell you what my idea is—this envelope is in my writing, but it was not done for the purpose of this letter being sent—money was given me in July by Mr. Joseph Barron, to send out certain circulars—he said, "You had better get these envelopes," and he gave me £1 1s. Mr. Barron has paid over £2,000 in calls—I do not know whose desk I left this on; I shall not tell you where it was, because you want to get up a charge of conspiracy against me—I wrote those addresses on 18th August, as far as I can tell—this letter is Also my writing. (This was dated March 6th, 1888, from the prisoner to Mr. R. Knott, offering to get £30, which he had paid in July, returned to him if he would give him one-third thereof. Signed, Bernard Boaler)I was prosecuted in this Court for a libel on the chairman of the Grosvenor and, and pleaded a justification, which was proved—I was sentenced to a term of imprisonment—I wrote on 17th February, 1888, to Mr. Hutton—these men have swallowed up £40,000, and it is a crime—I wrote, "I am in possession of all the facts, and I am certain a good thing can be done in it"—I wrote this letter of 17th February, 1888, also this of March 8th, 1888, to Mrs. Mary Page, also this contract of 25th February, 1888, and this letter of 20th June, 1888, to Mr. Webster. (These documents were read as showing the prisoner's desire to derive a pecuniary advantage from his correspondents.)
The prisoner, in re-examining. As to the publication of the circular of the 18th August, I wrote the original, but have never seen it since—I never had the print of it in my possession—I am now entitled to give rebutting evidence—there has been an attempt to settle with mea certain interview took place on last Sunday night between myself and Mr. Clay, in the house of Major Isaacs, but I pledged Mr. Clay my word of honour I would not say a word about it, and I will not now unless Mr. Clay will give me leave—Mr. Webber was there, and I was there for two hours and a half—Mr. Webber interviewed me and a friend of mine as well, and he said, "Boaler, the Judge is against you, and the jury is against you, and you are bound to be convicted"—I said, "What right have you to say that?"
R. K. CLAY (He-examined). As the prisoner has violated the secrecy of this interview, I am prepared to state every word of what took place; it was more in his interest that I met him—it was intimated to me that Mr. Boaler wished to plead guilty, on terms, and in consequence of that, as
our sole object has been to stop the litigation, and as I believe not one member of the board has any vindictive feeling against Mr. Boaler, I thought, if he was prepared to do that, we might possibly come to terms and put an end to this litigation, and I did agree to meet Mr. Boaler at a director's house (Major Isaacs), where I happened to be on a visit that evening, when Mr. Boaler came in it was arranged that whatever took place was to be in solemn confidence between us, not to be divulged, and I am sorry he has divulged it—the directors knew nothing about it, I simply took this upon myself with a view of stopping the litigation, and if I had found it could be done I would then have called a special board meeting for the following Monday morning, placed my views before them, and if they agreed, and the Court agreed, we would have carried it out; but to my surprise, after we had discussed the matter a little, Mr. Boaler demanded £10,000 for pleading guilty—I said, "How can you make such a claim? what is it based upon? you know that as to the shares you hold, the first thing you would have to do would be to pay £2,500 as mortgage debt, apart from disputed calls; you would have to pay up all the calls; every person has paid the calls except yourself and Morley, your friend"—he said, "Those are my terms"—we had a long discussion; I could not get him out of that, he would not be got from that point—if he had succeeded in any of these actions the £10,000 would go back and follow every shareholder for thirty years, and mike them pay back the dividends which he said had been improperly paid to them for thirty years, so that it was not only against law but common sense, and it resulted in our parting company—the persons injured would not be myself and the directors, but the widows and children of the policyholders—we have about 30,000 policyholders.
By the prisoner. I did not say that I believed you were an honourable man; I thought you were a mistaken man, and that you thought you knew the law, which you did not, and if you had known what was in our private books you would never have put yourself in this position—it was Mr. Hardy, our secretary, who intimated to me the attempt of compromise, I think, on Wednesday morning, the 22nd, and on the Saturday I received the intimation that you wished to see me—Mr. Hardy told me that you wished to plead guilty on terms, and also Mr. Webber—I believe Mr. Webber acted as agent for a gentleman in Edinburgh in the settlement of an action—I think Mr. Hardy was in the room at the time I had the interview with you, but not the whole time—I was distinctly under the impression that you sought the interview—I saw Mr. Webber in Court this morning—I said that you and six others had been trying for over two years to break the association—I said that if you still forced the directors to protect the shareholders, we would bury the hatchet, and let the whole thing go, if you would simply stop the litigation—I said I knew every person against whom proceedings were contemplated, and that your family came out the best, and I should be pleased to see you do what was right at last—I did not say that whatever you had done I believed you were acting bona fide and honestly—I did not say if you would not submit to the terms I proposed the prosecution for conspiracy should go on; I did not propose any terms.
By the JURY. I did nothing whatever to create this interview—Mr. Webber told me that Mr. Boaler and Mr. Hardy had had a consultation, that they felt that the case was going against Mr. Boaler, and that Mr.
Hardy had advised him to try and make terms; that they fell out over this discussion, and that Mr. Boaler would be prepared to make terms if he could by pleading guilty—Mr. Webber first approached Mr. Hardy; he did not come direct to me—the application neither came from me nor was it sought by me—Mr. Webber had no authority from me or the company to act in the matter.
By the prisoner. I said to you on the Sunday night, "Assuming you succeed, who are you going to have as directors?"—I did not say that if proceedings had been taken all my men would have been left out—I do not know whether Mr. Webber is a solicitor or not—I heard that your wife was lying ill, that the rent was in arrears, and that you had no means; and when we were by ourselves, in Mr. Webber's presence, I asked you if you would accept from me personally a present for your wife—I gave you £5, thinking it would help her—I said if you and I had met in 1887 we should have been enabled to show you that you were entirely wrong, by producing our private books, which you did not see then, and which you never saw till to-day.
The prisoner', in summing up hit case, stated that he did not believe that any of the present directors were capable of issuing false accounts or false balance sheets, but they had been misled by their subordinates.
The JURY found the prisoner
GUILTY on all three counts, and that his plea of Justification was not proved.
A certificate of conviction against the prisoner was proved on 2nd February,1885, when he was sentenced to two months' imprisonment. (See Sessions Paper, vol. CI., page 641).
Before Mr. Justice Stephen
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
The alleged cause of death was from neglect and drunkenness on the part of the prisoner.
The JURY, in finding her
NOT GUILTY of Manslaughter, considered her
GUILTY of Gross Negligence, to which the prisoner, by the advice of her counsel, PLEADED GUILTY.
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
CHARLES COOPER SMITH . I live at Harrow Bridge House, Stratford., and am a corndealer—on 26th September I went to bed at 12.30 the windows and shutters were closed—there were plants in pots inside the window on a ledge.
EMMA SMITH . I am the wife of the last witness—I went to bed two or three minutes before him—after he came to bed I was awoke by some unusual noise—I leaped out of bed, went on to the staircase, and heard the door of the drawing-room turned; it makes a curious click—I went downstairs, peeped round the wainscot, and a light came from the drawing-room door—I bounded back and the door slammed—I went up to an upper window and called a constable, who came in through a window—I went down, went into the drawing-room with him, and saw that the window was set wide open with a stick; three ferns which had been in the window were moved away, and the other two pushed up to the wainscot, and a chair under the window had been moved—the policeman showed me this spoon, which was on a whatnot in the drawing-room in the afternoon—another policeman brought the prisoner in.
Cross-examined. It might be ten minutes after I saw the light that the policeman came; he went into the garden immediately to look for the man.
JAMES GLENDINNING (Policeman). I saw Mrs. Smith at her window about 1.30 a.m., springing a rattle—I found a window propped up with a stick; I got in, turned on my light, and searched, but found no one—I went to the rear of the house, climbed a fence, and saw the prisoner among some bushes leaning against a door in a crouching position—he was awake—I caught hold of him and said, "What are you doing there?" he said, "Oh, oh!" and said something in broken English—I searched him, and found a box of matches and some paper parcels—I took him to the station—he said nothing to me—he had got over a wooden fence six feet high.
JAMES SHEHAN (Police Inspector). On 26th September, at three a.m., I went to Mr. Smith's house—there were no marks on the window or the shutters, so that in my opinion they could not have been closed—there is a hole in the window ledge which the bolt should go into, but it could not, because it was filled up with dirt.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I was very tired, and had nowhere to go; I never knew it till I was disturbed by the police. I knew nothing about the matter."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
Street, Deptford, hay and straw dealers—the prisoner was in their service up to four years ago—I saw him on Wednesday, 24th September, at the Queen's Hotel, Upton Park, near East Ham, and a man joined him, who he introduced, but gave no name; he said, "This gentleman has bought hay and straw of me; can you make a customer of him? He might buy some of you "I asked the man if he would buy some hay—he said, "What about the price?" I told him—he said that if I could make it any less for him he might be a customer another time—the mixture was £4, the hay 75s., and straw 34st here were to be two loads of each—I asked his address; he said, "Mr. Smith, Park Street, Upton Park, carman"—he gave no christian name—the prisoner said that Smith could pay for anything, he thought he was all right—I asked Smith the way from our place to his; he said, "By the Woolwich Ferry," and we parted—on Friday evening, the 26th, about nine o'clock, I was at home, and the prisoner came with Quinton, a carman, who said, "There is something wrong about the delivery of those sacks; will you come and see about it?"—I got up in the empty cart which the man brought with him, and rode to Upton Park—the prisoner said, "It will be all right, George, I have money, and can pay for it"—the carman told me it was all unloaded—I asked the prisoner if he would pay for it—he said, "Yes, if you will come inside "he did not pay me—Smith was the purchaser—I saw the stuff in the garden of 4, Seymour Street, Upton Park—it is a little cottage—it had been unloaded—I recognised it—I asked the prisoner to take me to find Smith; he said he would, but that Smith would not get out of bed to speak to me if I went to his place—we went up one street and down another for a considerable time, but he could not or would not show me Smith—he went back to his place, and in the meantime the Pascalls had arrived, father and son—Mr. Hawkins and I decided to give the prisoner in charge, and I went for a constable, who went to his house and took him.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not receive instructions from me to look after the stuff, I merely asked you to give an eye to see that it was delivered at the place where Smith had given his address; that was about 7 a.m., you were coming to London with me that morning—you fetched me at night to where the stuff was—you did not say, "I don't know where Smith lives, we can only look about the town and see if he has been here"—you did not say, "Smith might turn up in the morning"—the manager said, "Is this the man you sold the stuff to?" and I said, "I have known this man a good many years "Pascall asked me if I would be answerable for it; I said, "Yes," but after thinking the matter over, I altered my mind, as Smith could not be found, and I told him I would not be responsible, and sent my vans away directly—the prisoner was there all the time with Mr. Pascall—I did not say that I was perfectly satisfied, or we should not have come back again—the men wanted to get home at that time of night—you had given me one order before—I have known you many years, and have had several dealings with you—it is a regular and usual thing to leave stuff behind if there is any doubt about the purchaser; it is left with the firm I work for, merely brought back till next day, because they cannot find the proper address—we are not on the market, we send our travellers out to sell the goods—if the goods are not sold, they are generally set up in a salesman's yard or in a third person's yard, for which they have to pay.
Re-examined. I should not pay so much for leaving it for the night; it is generally left in the yard till the next day—it was when we were trying to find Smith that the prisoner said that Smith would not get up if we found him—we have never found him; I think I should know him again.
HENRY QUINTON . I am carman to the prosecutor—on 26th September I received two loads of hay to deliver—Howard and Hills wero with me; they had their own loads to look after—I started off to look for Mr. Smith, of Park Street, Upton Park—we wont over Woolwich Ferry, and the prisoner came out of the Denmark Tavern, and said to Howard, "Pull up here"—Howard, who was in front, asked who he was—he said, "This stuff is for Mr. Smith, is it not?"—Howard said, "Yes"—he said, "I am Smith, the man who bought this stuff; I have been here since 9.30 this morning waiting for it; you have been a long time coming"—it was then about 12.30he walked round the stuff, and picked out the middle load, and said, "This stuff is not so good as what I bought"—I said, "What is the matter with it?" he pointed to one or two trusses, and said, "There is a dirty one, there is one so burnt I have a good mind not to take it in; I suppose you gents can do with half a pint of beer"—I said that we could, and he put down threepence on the counter for three half-pints of ale between three men, and went out, but walked in again and said, "Are you men nearly ready to come and take the stuff round?" we said, "Yes"—he said, "Fetch your horses round to the Denmark, and wait there till I come; go up the road till you come to the Bowling Tavern; I will go across the field and tell my men what to do, and then I will come across the field and help you to unload"—a minute after we got there the prisoner was there, and another man came, who taxed the prisoner about some money—there was a dispute between them; the other man said something about robbing—when he left, the prisoner said, "Come on, I will show you where to unload this stuff"—I said to Howard, "This sort of thing don't seem to be exactly right; I should like to wire the governor, and see what he thinks about it"—Howard said, in the prisoner's presence, "How are we going to wire if we have not got any money to wire with?" the prisoner said, "You don't want to take any notice of what the other man says; I will pay your telegram if you wish to wire the governor"—I then telegraphed to Martin and Sons, and the prisoner paid for it—we waited four hours for an answer, and about five o'clock Pascall, an office-boy, was sent—the other two men came and asked how long we were going to be—the prisoner said, "Why won't you unload this stuff?"—I said, "We don't care about unloading it; if you can't pay £5 you can't pay" £20 he said, "What are you frightened of? what is the reason you won't unload this stuff? is it because that man just taxed me over that little affair just now? do you hear? did you not take ten loads of barley-straw to Flower Road, Rotherhithe? when that ten loads were sent was not five shillings sent by one of the carmen to give to the men who unloaded the straw, and he brought it back again? did you not also take out a load of clover, for which a cheque was received? and as soon as your employer arrives there is the money to pay;" and ho showed me a bag—I said, "Yes, I believe there were ten loads of barley-straw sent, also a load of clover"—as to the money-bag, I had to take my best belief whether there was money or nothe said, "If you don't
soon unload I stall never have any more stuff from your employer," and that led us to unload the stuff in a garden at the back of a cottage—later on I fetched Mr. Gray; the prisoner gave me the address.
Cross-examined. When you met us you did not say, "I am the man you want to see"; you said, "I am Smith, the man that bought it"—I went back to my mates at the van at four o'clock, and you with me—I did not ask you to let you unload it at my place—I had a doubt that you were not Smith, but you said, "I am Smith"—I was at Upton Park Tavern when a man came in and represented himself as Smith; there were a couple of Smiths there then; one of them said he would pay, and that was you—that was after the stuff was all unloaded—I came round to your place with the young clerk, and left him with you, and went back to the station—he said to you, "Are you the man who bought the stuff?" you did not say "No"—he said, "We had better load the stuff up again "I said, "I shall wait and see the governor"—I knew nothing about unloading the stuff—you came back to us at the Queen's Hotel—you said, "If you have any further suspicions, go and fetch George Gray," and you and I jumped up in the van together and fetched him—me and you and Gray came from Gray's house to the Queen's Hotel; I left you and Gray to go inside and settle for it; you went inside and Gray walked out without you; you were minus I do not know whether you went into the urinal; I drove home, and you had been home and had gone again—our manager told us, but not till the last thing at night, to go away and leave the stuff there—he did not say that everything was right.
Re-examined, Smith came to the public-house between two and three o'clock of his own accord, and said to the prisoner, "How about that stuff?" he said, "All right; I have got it in my garden"—at that time the stuff was unloaded.
OHAHLES HOWARD . I live at Brockley—I was in Messrs. Martin's employ on 26th September, and went with Everton and Hill with six loads of straw over Woolwich Ferry—I was the first carman, and I saw prisoner near the Denmark Tavern; he told me to stop; I pulled up, and he said I had been a long time coming with his stuff, he had been waiting for it since 9.30 he said, "I am Mr. Smith, the man who bought the stuff"—we went in and had some drink—he said he would go across the market gardens and see his man, and we were to go to the Bowling Tavern—a third man came up when we got there, and the prisoner spoke to him, but I only heard him say, "I don't want nothing to say to you; you have robbed me quite sufficient, and if these three poor carmen are to be ruled by you, you will rob them just the same"—after that a telegram was sent to the firm—before the reply came we had got all the stuff unloaded but nineteen trusses, in a garden at the back of the house; he showed us the place.
Cross-examined. I had not got. the horses' heads turned the wrong way when you met me at twelve o'clock—I saw you at Upton Park in a public-house, drinking, and a short man came up, who was represented to be Mr. Smith—he soon edged out of it—you said you were Mr. Smith when I met you at the Denmark Tavern; that is half a mile from the Bowling Tavern—you and Quinton went with this stuff to your yard; you went on very steadily unloading it—you said, "Don't make a muddle; someone might come"—the clerk then came, but I was
unloading the stuff, and could not hear what he said—he did not say to me, "Bridges is not the man who bought the stuff; we had better load it up again," or, "Will you let me place the remainder in your yard?" we unloaded the remainder in his presence, and I gave him my name and address on paper—I sent a telegram first, and the clerk sent another—I fetched Mr. Gray to the Queen's Hotel—you did not go with them to where the stuff was; you were there before them—the manager said to Gray, "Do you, know this man?" he said, "Yes, I have known him from a child"; lie did notsay, "I don't want to be answerable for it"—we might have placed all the stuff in less than an hour.
Re-examined. "When he told us to go home it was 11.15; we usually leave off work between six and seven.
CHARLES HILLS . I am a carman to Martin and Sons—on September 24th I went with two loads of mixture over "Woolwich Ferry—Quinton and Howard had the other loads—I saw the prisoner near the Denmark Tavern; he recognised himself as Smith—we had some drink, and went to the Bowling Tavern, where I minded the horses, and then the prisoner took me to his garden—I did not see a strange man come and speak—before young Mr. Pascall came some of the stuff was unloaded.
Cross-examined. All I did was to mind the horses at the Bowling Tavern.
ALBERT GEORGE PASCALL . I am clerk to Messrs. Martin and Sons, of Deptford—on 26th September I received a communication from one of the firm, and went over to Upton Park; I got there between three and four o'clock, and met Quinton, one of our carmen, who took me to a cottage in Seymour Street, when I saw the other men unloading the stuff into a back garden; it was nearly all unloaded—I saw the prisoner there, and asked him if he was Mr. Smith; he said no, he was taking in the stuff to oblige Mr. Smith, and said something about seeing if he could find him—I wired to the firm for someone else to come, and my father came between five and six—I shall be eighteen next month.
Cross-examined. I did not say to you, "Will you allow me to place the remainder in your yard, and give me your name and address?" I asked your name, and I believe you gave it me, George Bridges—we fetched Mr. Gray, and my father had then got there.
GEORGE HENRY PASCALL . I am clerk and collector to Messrs. Martin and Sonson 26th September, in consequence of information, I went to Upton Park—I arrived about 9.10 or 9.15 p.m., and first saw Mr. Gray and the prisoner—the vans were standing unloaded outside the Queen's Hotel, and the drivers with them—I said, in the prisoner's hearing, "Good evening, Mr. Gray, are you here?" he said, "Yes, how is it you are here?" I said, "In consequence of a telegram our people sent, thinking there was something wrong about this affair "Mr. Gray said, "I will see you in a minute," and walked away with the prisoner into the Queen's Hotel—finding he did not return, I went into the hotel, but could not find them; I went outside and waited a little longer, and conversed with the carmen; a policeman was there—I went back to the hotel, but could not see him—I then ordered a carman to drive me to where he had unloaded the stuff, and after a time the prisoner returned—I told the carmen I should have the stuff loaded up and carried home
again—the prisoner said, "I shall not allow it to be taken off my premises; I do not see that I have any right to let it be removed"—that was 10 o'clock or 10.15 after some conversation with Mr. Ghray, I sent the vans home, leaving the stuff there—Mr. Ghray had a conversation with me which the prisoner did not hear, after which I gave the prisoner in charge—the stuff afterwards was sent home by the Magistrate's order.
Cross-examined. The constable said he would go and see if he could borrow a fork to load the stuff up, and you walked behind—I asked Mr. Gray if he would be responsible for it if it was left; he at first said that he would—that was about 10 o'clock—the prisoner did not say, "Do you want to see Bridges any more to-night?"—I did not tell the prisoner I was perfectly satisfied, Mr. Gray could see you to-morrow; nothing of the sort—it was 10.30 when I gave you in charge.
Re-examined. Gray refused to be responsible for the stuff.
JOHN DUNHAM (K 607). On September 26th, about 9.15, the last witness spoke to me near the Queen's Hotel, and I went to 4, Seymour Street, East Ham, about a quarter of a mile away, where the prisoner lives—I knew him previously—we did not see anyone there, and we went on to a place at West Ham, where the hay and straw were taken, and Bridges came up and Mr. Ghray afterwards—the carman Howard said to the prisoner, "Did not you meet us in the Denmark public-house?"—he said, "I did"—Howard said, "Did not I ask you who you were, and you said, ('I am Mr. Smith, who ordered that stuff'?"—the prisoner said, "I did," and turned to Mr. Ghray and said, "George, did not you tell me to give an eye to the stuff?" Mr. Gray said, "Yes, I did, but I did not tell you to put it in your back garden"—Mr. Pascall said something about loading it up again; the men said they had no forks, and went away to try and get some, but could not, and on their return Mr. Gray said in the prisoner's presence, "I will be responsible for it till the morning," and with that Mr. Pascall ordered the vans to go home—the prisoner, Mr. Pascall, and Mr. Gray left, and in half an hour they returned, and I accompanied them to the house and charged the prisoner with obtaining hay and straw by false pretences, and said he would have to come with us to the station; he said, "All right," and went with us—on the way he wanted to say something; I cautioned him that what he said might be given in evidence against him; he said, "I know where I have done wrong in saying I was Mr. Smith"—I have seen the prisoner selling cabbages in the street on Saturday nights with a cart—I have known him about three month—she has no horse—I have inquired for Smith everywhere in Park Street and in Upton Park.
Cross-examined. You were under the influence of drink. The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that the goods were simply deposited with him, and he was merely warehousing them.
GUILTY of attempting to obtain the goods.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Chelmsford on 4th December, 1889. Nine Months, Without Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Stephen
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, HORACE AVORY, and BIRON Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and RINTOUL Defended.
ABRAHAM ASCOLI (R 70). I understand the making of plans—I made this plan of No. 32, Conway Road, Plumstead—these tracings are correct copies of it—they show Conway Road and Griffin Road, and a piece of ground surrounded by a hoarding.
Cross-examined. The hoarding is 6ft. high, and the opening 9ft. wide, and the other 12ft. the nearest house to it is occupied by a foreman in the Arsenal—a number of the Arsenal workmen live in Griffin Road—the nearest opening in the fence from Conway Road is about 26 yards.
EDMUND PHILLIMORE . I am a house painter, now living at 13, Somerville Street, Leeds—on 12th September I was lodging at 32, Conway Road, Plumstead—Mrs. Lyons was the landlady—she lived in the house, also her two sons, the prisoner and William Lyons, and Mr. Wood—I occupied the front room upstairs, Mrs. Lyons occupied the back parlour ownstairs—on Friday evening, 12th September, I went to bed about twenty minutes to eleven—Mr. Wood and William Lyons were in the house at that time—I woke up about half-past twelve and heard a noise downstairs, and the prisoner shouting—the sounds came from Mrs. Lyons bedroom—I heard the prisoner say, "I will not go out of the room"—he spoke as though he was very wild—I heard his mother say, "You will nave to go out"—the prisoner then screamed out, "I will not go out of the room till that man goes out of the house "she said, "I shall please myself when he goes"—then he turned as if to someone else, and said, "If you do not go out of the house I will bash your b——brains in"—after that I heard someone rush to the kitchen at the back of the house, and then heard him run back to the bedroom very quickly—I then heard a struggle as though between two persons; it lasted a very short time, a very few minutes—after that they seemed a little quieter—I think the prisoner asked his mother to send the man out of the houses—he said, "I shall please myself about him"—he called his mother a b——cow and a b——whore, and I heard him say to the other person, "Would you like to come home and find a man in bed with your mother?" and another voice said, "No"—that was the first time I heard the third voice—the prisoner then said, "Why don't you go out of the house, you know you have no business here"—his mother said, "He shall go when I choose to let him "I think it was then that he called his mother the names, and she replied, "Thank you"—the prisoner said, "Have I not got it in front of my eyes?"—his mother said, "We are going to get married to-morrow. "the prisoner said, "If I can only find one thing in the house, I will cut your b——head off and mine too with one swing"—the next thing was the prisoner said to the man, "If you don't go out of the house I will throw you out, and I will fight you fair fight"—the man said, "I am acting as a man not to hit you; I have fought in battles, and can fight again, and could kill you with one blow"—the man spoke two or three times in a gruff voice, I could not understand what he said; he spoke at different times as things were said between the mother and son—at the finish of the row I think the soldier said he would go—I then heard two persons walk towards the front door—the mother came back from the door into the passage and asked her son for her hat; he said, "You shall not have it"—all then seemed quiet for a little while, and then I heard someone
rush upstairs to the little back room where the prisoner and his brother slept; I could not hear what he did—I heard no more then till I heard voices in the street; that was between ten minutes to a quarter of an hour after the remark about the hat—I jumped out of bed and opened the window, and I then heard Mrs. Lyons say in a very loud voice, "Take him away or he will murder me"—the prisoner screamed out, "Get out of my way, or I will serve you the same"—I then called Wood, my fellow lodger, and we both went out into the street—I saw a female, and, in consequence of what she said, I ran to the corner of Griffin Road, where I saw the prisoner with a knife in his hand, and I said, "Oh, Walter, what have you done?"—he turned round and looked on the ground, and said, "I have done it, look," and I saw a soldier lying there—the prisoner said, "Fetch a policeman, I will give myself up"—Mrs. Lyons was kneeling down, kissing the soldier j she said, "Oh, Walter, you have killed him"—the prisoner was not a yard from her when she said that—he made no answer—two policemen then came up, and the prisoner walked up to them and said, "Here is the knife, I give myself up; there is the man I have killed; take me, for I know my doom"—he gave the large knife to the constable, and then putting; his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a clasp knife, saying, "If I had not done it with that one I should have done it with this"—at this time a doctor came up—the prisoner was dressed in his working clothes—he had not got his boots on or his hat; he asked for them, and I went home and got his boots from under the kitchen table, and Wood fetched his hat—I went to the police-station, and afterwards went back to Conway Road with Mrs. Lyons—she there showed me a small riveting-hammer, which she said was broken in the struggle; this is it.
Cross-examined. I had been lodging in this house from the second week after the Easter holidays—I was not there when the prisoner's father died, I never saw him—the prisoner worked in the Arsenal—I never heard any quarrel or disturbance in the house before this—the prisoner appeared a steady, quiet young fellow—this disturbance lasted about half or three-quarters of an hour—the first words the prisoner spoke he shouted out, as if mad with passion—when I saw him up Griffin Road he seemed even worse—as far as I could see he was quite sober, though greatly excited—when he saw the man lying dead on the ground he seemed to sink—on the road to the station he burst out crying—he said, "I am sorry for what I have done"—when I got to the spot I only saw the soldier, the mother, the prisoner, and one girl, Johnson—the soldier did not leave the house till a quarter of an hour after this hammer was said to have been broken—in spite of the prisoner's threats the soldier remained.
Re-examined. As the dispute went on the prisoner seemed to get more wild; it was more screaming than speaking—when his mother asked for her hat, he said in rather a sharp way, "You shall not have it"—he seemed to be quieter then, when the soldier was going—when I opened the window and looked out he was speaking in a very screaming voice—he seemed very calm when he said, "I have done it, look"—he was quite calm when the constables came up—when his mother came to sneak to him he pushed out his hand and said, "Go away, I will not talk to you; you ought to be ashamed of yourself," and from that time he seemed comparatively calm—I took his shoes to him at the corner of
Griffin Road; he put them on and walked to the station—there were two drawers in the kitchen dresser—there would be about eight paces from the dresser to the bedroom door.
ELLEN LYONS . I am a widow, living at 32, Conway Road, Plumstead—I have been a widow seven months—the prisoner is my son; he is twenty years old, and was living with me—he and his brother occupied a bedroom together—I occupied a bedroom on the ground floor—Phillimore slept in the first floor fronton Friday, 1st September, I went to some military sports on Woolwich Common—I was there introduced to John Stewart, a quartermaster sergeant in the Royal Artillery, about four in the afternoon—I had never met him before, he was quite a stranger to me—I remained in his company for the rest of the afternoon and evening, and with my consent he accompanied me home about twelve—we went together to my bedroom on the ground floor, and went to bed together; that was about half-past twelve—about half an hour afterwards the prisoner entered the room—there was no light when he came in; he brought a lamp in his hand—he spoke to me, and I answered him—high words passed between us—I could not say whether the soldier was awake during the quarrel between me and my son; he was not awake when my son came into the room—he was awake afterwards—he did not get out of bed to dress himself till my son told him he would have to clear out of the house; he said he was not going to be frightened by a brat like him, and he asked if he was master of the house—my son said, "I am master as far as this goes, I am not going to have this sort of thing here"—he left the room before the soldier got up—I was up and dressed when he came back, he then had his small riveting-hammer in his hand—he again told the soldier to leave the house—he said he was not going for a brat like him—my son said, "I am as good a man as you"—I was afraid they were going to fight, and I struggled with my son; I took hold of his coat—the soldier used filthy language to him—my son said he would put him out of the house; I daresay he would have got to him if I had not been there, I was struggling with him at the time—the hammer got broken in our struggle; a piece came off the bottom of the handle, as it is now—my son said, "Are you going?" the soldier said, "I will please myself whether I go or not"—I begged of him to go—then there were high words between them in the passage; the soldier had dressed himself and said he would go; my son left the room first, he stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, immediately outside the bedroom door—the soldier swore at him again and said, "I am acting like a man not to hit you, I could kill you in one blow "my son then went into the kitchen—I knew there was a knife in the dresser-drawer there which had been used for cutting bread that day—I and the soldier went to the street door, and I told him to go—we remained there two or three minutes—I left him at the gate and went back for my hat—I met my son in the passage, he was standing by the bedroom door—he begged me not to go out—I said, "I want my hat"—he said, "You shall not have it"—I went along the passage—he said, "I don't see what you want to go out for "I said I would please myself, and I went to the gate and joined the soldier, and walked away with him down Conway Road to the corner of Griffin Road, where there was a hoarding; we went through that. whilst we were there my son came to the opening—he said, "I
have caught you, what can you say to this now?" the soldier swore at him for following—I got up immediately and caught hold of my son—the soldier said he would knock him down—Walter said, "Come out into the road"—Stewart said he had fought in battles, and fought with fire and steel, and was not afraid of a brat like him—I could see as though they were going to fight, and I caught hold of my son; he was quite out of temper, he seemed to be screaming with passion—he was not near Stewart then, he was two or three yards from him—I begged of Ste wart to go away—he said, "Don't mind me, mind yourself"—he stood—I struggled with my son—the soldier came towards him, but I was between them—we were then in the road—my son went out first, I next, and the soldier last—they were going to fight, when I stood between them; they were both in a fighting attitude—I caught hold of both sides of my son's coat, at the top part, the breast part—he screamed, "Go away, go away, I have got a knife"—I had not seen the knife at that time—I left go of one side of his coat, and asked Stewart for God's sake to go away—my son's coat pocket got ripped or torn, and he threw me to the ground; I don't know whether he threw me or whether I tripped and fell; then he was free from me—when I got up again I saw Stewart stagger and fall—my son was then standing a little distance from me, two or three yards, and six or seven yards from Stewart—seeing Stewart fall, I said, "Oh, Walter, Walter, what have you done?" I do not remember if he answered—I ran up to Stewart, knelt down, and put my arms round his head—he looked up at me, sighed, and immediately afterwards expired—he did not speak after he fell—after that I think a witness came up and the police constable—the witness was standing there a good part of the time.; I screamed for him to come to my help, but he would not—I believe when Stewart saw me fall he was coming to my assistance, thinking that I was hurt, and my son and he must have closed, but I did not see them close—this (produced) is the knife; it was used in the house as a bread-knife; it had been in use that day at one o'clock, the dinner hour—the prisoner was at home to dinner that day—it was put away in the knife-box in the dresser-drawer.
Cross-examined. My husband had been a workman in the Arsenal; like my son, he was well known among his fellow workmen—my son contributed to keep the home together—we were buying the house—before my son went upstairs at night he generally came into my bedroom and bid me "Good night," first taking off his boots in the kitchen, and bolting up—he would stand at my bedroom door and wish me "Good alight"—I don't think the light was ever out before that night; that was an exceptional thing, so he came in—I gave my evidence before the Coroner on 16th September—I don't remember saying there that Stewart said he would chastise the boy—what I said then must have been true, but I can't remember, for I have had so much worry—when my son said, "Go away, I have got a knife, "Stewart did not go t he never moved—I. can't remember whether I said before the Coroner that they struggled—I don't remember whether they struggled or not—they must have touched each other in passing, the passage is so narrow—I can't remember whether there was a struggle at the place where Stewart was killed—they were in a fighting attitude—the last thing I saw before I fell was my son making towards Stewart, and Stewart advancing towards him, and when I got up I saw Stewart lying dead in the road—he was twice the size of my son; a very tall, strong, powerful man—when he said he could kill my son
with one blow, my son seemed to take it as ft threat—he made a step towards my son, as if to strike him—it was after that that my son went for the hammer—he seemed to be absolutely maddened with passion; he shouted at the pitch of his voice; he burst out crying in the bedroom, and implored the soldier to go out of the house, that he had no business there—from the time we came out from the hoarding till the soldier lay dead it was two or three minutes at the very most—during the whole of that time my son seemed almost mad with passion; he could not control himself.
Re-examined. He is passionate at times—he was very passionate that night, because he had never seen the like before, and it drove him to madness—in the bedroom, before he went for the hammer, Stewart made a step towards him when he was dressing—he made a step towards the foot of the bed where my son was standing; I thought they were going to fight then—I did not notice whether he raised his hand, I was too much fixed on my son—when we were inside the hoarding the soldier said, "Here comes the b——again," and used very bad language—I did not see him raise his hand against my son inside the hoarding; there must have been something, for my son to say, "Come out into the road"—in the road I did not see them get nearer to each other than two or three yards—I did not see the soldier raise his hand against my son—he had his hands up as though he was going to fight, his hands were clenched in front of him—he did not raise his arm up high.
FRANK BRUN . I am a Norwegian—I am an engineer, of 72, Conway Road, Plumstead—in the early morning of Saturday, 13th September, about half-past one, I was going home—on arriving at the corner of Griffin Road I heard some quarrelling going on down Griffin Walk, and I saw Mrs. Lyons, the prisoner, and a sergeant in uniform—I heard the prisoner say, "I am going to do it, mother; I told you I would do it if I caught you again," and he rushed at the sergeant, who was standing just outside the fence, about four or five yards from him; the sergeant did nothing—I did not notice his hands—Mrs. Lyons threw herself between them—the quarrelling parties were advancing towards where I was standing—the prisoner said, "Look here, it is a case of life or death, one of you will get killed, or else I shall get killed myself"—the sergeant said, "Don't stab your mother, stab me if you want to stab anyone"—I then saw the prisoner go back two or three paces, and he drew a big knife from his inside left breast pocket, rushed at the sergeant, and stabbed him in the left breast—at that moment the sergeant was doing nothing; I could not say how he was standing, because Mrs. Lyons was between them—he reeled and fell almost instantaneously—Mrs. Lyons threw herself on the body, and I heard her shouting out, "Oh, Walter, Walter, what have you done?" at this time I was standing underneath the lamp, and this happened in the middle of the road—I walked up to the prisoner; I saw this big knife in his hand—I said, "Give me the knife"; he refused to do so—he said, "I have done what I intended to do, fetch a policeman"—shortly after the police came, and he handed the knife over and was taken into custody.
Cross-examined. Phillimore did not arrive till after the stab was given—Johnson was there the whole of the time; he was as near the soldier and the prisoner as I was; I spoke to him—when the police came up the prisoner gave them the knife—I don't exactly recollect the words he said
to them; I remember hearing him say, "I know my doom," and he said, "I have done what I intended to do "Johnson was standing quite close to me at the time—I would not say that I heard every word that passed—when I first saw the soldier he was in the pathway, with his back to the hoarding, and the prisoner and his mother in the roadway—it was the loud words that first attracted my attention; I was the first person on the spot.
By the COURT. I saw the stab actually given; I saw both the men for some moments before it was given—the soldier did not lay his hand on the prisoner before he was stabbed; I am quite certain of that—he did not seem to defend himself.
ROBERT JAMES JOHNSON . I lived at 59 Station Road, Plumstead, and work in the Arsenal—about half-past one on the morning of September 13th I was returning home, and in Griffin Road I saw the prisoner, Mrs. Lyons, and the soldier; they were arguing the point one with the other—I went to see what was the matter, and I told the prisoner to be very careful, or he would get himself into serious trouble—Mrs. Lyons had hold of his arm; he said, "I told you I would the first time I caught you, and now I have caught you in the very act; "at the same time saying to me, "Young man, what would you do if you were in my place?"—I said, "You say you caught them?"—he said, "Yes, fairly on the job"—at that time the soldier was standing at the back of Mrs. Lyons—he did nothing—my wife told me to come away—at that time the witness Brun said, "He has got a knife, take it away from him"—I raised my hand, but unfortunately it was too late, I saw the knife in the prisoner's hand—Mrs. Lyons had her back towards the soldier, and her face to the prisoner—I saw the prisoner strike Stewart over his mother's shoulder with the knife; he staggered about two paces and fell—Mrs. Lyons said, "Walter, Walter," and went from him to Stewart; I went to him and unbuttoned his coat, and my hand was covered with blood in doing it—he was dead to the world in a moment—I was there when the police came up.
Cross-examined. I was nearer to the prisoner than Brun—I did not hear the prisoner refuse to give up the knife, he offered it to me; I did not take it—at the same time he said, "I will wait for the police to come up" Mrs. Lyons was apparently trying to interpose between the two men, and the soldier closed up nearer to her—I went to the station—the prisoner did not burst into tears in my presence—all he said was that he was going to a bean feast on Saturday afternoon, and he wished Phillimore to take his coat, as he would not be able to go—he said nothing that I heard about intending to do anything.
Re-examined. I saw Mrs. Lyons have hold of the prisoner's hand—the prisoner had nothing in his hand then—it was at that time that the soldier came a step or two nearer Mrs. Lyons; that was before the knife was produced—as far as I could see, the soldier did not move from that position until after the knife was produced, and he was. stabbed.
JOHN REVEL . I live at 52, Griffin Road, Plumstead—I am principal foreman in the Royal Arsenal—about half-past one on the morning of 18th September I heard a noise outside my house, and in consequence I went out into the road, and found a man lying on the ground—I saw the prisoner there, and said to him, "I think you work for me"—he said, "No, Mr. Revel, I worked over your office for Mr. Williams, I now
work in the Royal Carriage Department"—I noticed that he was very exited, and I said, "My God, what have you done?" he replied, addressing himself to the woman who was on her knees kissing the deceased, "I told you I would do it"—I asked him if he had been drinking—he replied, "I have only had four half-pints the whole evening"—the police were there; I accompanied him to the station.
Cross-examined. I was on the sick list, and had been in bed—when I said, "What have you done?" he said, "You would have done the same, Mr. Revel, had you been me"—I caught hold of his arm—he said, "I will go by myself, I will go quietly"—when he saw me, he appeared to calm down; before that he was very violent.
ALFRED ROLFE (Sergeant It 13). I was in Griffin Road on this Friday morning—I heard a woman's screams; I went towards the spot, and at the corner of Griffin Road I saw a man in uniform lying dead on the ground, and several people standing round—the prisoner came up to me with this knife in his hand, and said, u I have stabbed him, this is the knife"—he gave it me—I said I should take him into custody for causing his death—he said, "All right; I have done it, I know ray doom"—I went with him to the station.
Cross-examined. The Police-station is about a mile from where I arrested him—at the station I noticed that the prisoner had a long cut or scratch in his forearm, near the wrist; it was so slight there was no blood—he did not say to me how it was caused—I heard him say, "This was done in struggling with the man, "but he was not addressing me—it looked like a scratch with a pin—I could not swear it was not done with the soldier's button—it did not bleed.
GEORGE BRENCIILEY (Sergeant R 3). I was in charge of the Woolwich station when the prisoner was brought in—I directed the sergeant to search him—he said, "See what she has done for me," pointing to his coat, his disarranged collar, and the scratches on his hands and neck—I said, "How do you account for that?" he said, "It was done in the struggle when I was trying to get at him. "
Cross-examined. This was at 2 a.m. on the 13th the inquest took place on the 16th, and the hearing before the Magistrate on the 23rd I was not called before either the Coroner or the Magistrate—I was warned by the Treasury to attend here—I gave my statement to the inspector on the night of the 23rd what the prisoner said was, "See what she has done for me"—I could not swear positively to the words—it was not, "See what he has done for me;" I will swear that—he had scratches on both forearms; they looked as if done with pins or nails; it might probably have been with a button of the soldier's uniform.
ROBERT SERJEANT (R 470). I was on duty with Rolfe, and had charge of the prisoner—he handed me this small knife, and said, "That is the one that I meant to have done it with "I gave it to Inspector French at the station.
WILLIAM FRENCH (Inspector R) About a quarter to two on Friday morning I received information which took me to the Police-station—I saw the prisoner there at half-past two—he said to me, "I shall make a clean breast of this job" I said, "If you make a statement I will take it down in writing"—he then made a statement, which I took down, read it over to him, and he signed it—he appeared calm at the time, and was quite sober—this is the statement. (Read: It detailed the circumstances,
and substantially agreed with the evidence. As to the act itself, the words were, "I and the man got into the road, and walked to the junction of Conway Road and Griffin Road; when there the man said, 'You have not got the heart to do it'; I said nothing, but stabbed him there and then in the chest with the bread-knife: he staggered and fell down; I said 'I am done for'")I was not present when he was searched—I saw him examined; I noticed a slight scratch on both of his arms—I said, "How did you get them?" he replied, "She done it in keeping me away from him. "
Cross-examined. His mother was then at the station, but in another room; she was not present when he made the statement; he was about fifteen or twenty minutes making it: I took it down as he went on, word for word—Brenchley did not make any report to me that night about the scratches, not till after the Police-court proceedings.
FRANCIS DAVEY HAMILTON . I am a medical practitioner, of 26, Conway Road, Plumstead—on the morning of 13th September, about half-past one, I was called to the corner of Griffin Road, and saw the deceased lying in the road dead—I partially examined him and had him removed to the mortuary, where I made a more careful examination—I found an incised wound in the chest, penetrating through the chest-bone to the sternum—I afterwards made a post-mortem; I found that the wound had penetrated through the sternum straight down, penetrating the right auricle of the heart, causing almost instantaneous death from hemorrhage—a blow from a knife like this would cause such a wound; it must have been a most severe blow.
Cross-examined. The greater the passion or mental excitement a person is suffering from, the more complete is the break down afterwards; there would be a collapse after undue excitement—after a person has committed a deed, the excitement passes away, and he becomes calm—crying is a sign of collapse—the blow might probably be struck over the woman's shoulder—it would depend upon the height of the woman, she is taller than the prisoner—the blow was from above downwards—the deceased was a very strong powerful, man, about five feet eight or ten inches in height.
CHARLES SIMPSON . I am a sergeant-major in the Royal Artillery at Woolwich—I knew the deceased, John Stewart, he was a quartermaster sergeant of the 51st Field battery in the Royal Artillery—I last saw him alive between five and six on Friday afternoon, 12th September—he was then in his ordinary health—I saw his body in the mortuary next morning between four and five.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his youth. Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
814. HENRY SHEPHERD (36) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering two Post Office orders for the payment of money; also to receiving a Post Office order, knowing it to be stolen Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGOINS Prosecuted.
JAMES SHEITEUD . I live at 55, Pond Street, Deptford, and am carman to Thomas Vane—at half-past 9 p.m. on 28th August I put up his horse and van in the stable at Gosterwood Street, Deptford left the harness safe under the cover adjoining the stable door, and locked it as I went out—next morning at 7 a.m. I found the yard gates and the stable door open—I missed the rod roan horse, the van, two sets of harness, a spare collar, reins, two tarpaulins, and some other articles—they were all safe the night before—I gave information to the police and to Mr. Vane.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I missed the keys which hung up at the side of the door, in a private place—I saw some of the lost articles on 29th August at Bethnal Green—the horse I saw in Cambridge Heath Road on 29th, at a veterinary surgeon's.
THOMAS VANE . I am a corn dealer, of 82, Evelyn Street, Deptford—Shepperd is my carman—I saw my red roan horse and van on 28th August—I saw my horse at Shaw's, a veterinary surgeon's in Cambridge Heath, about a quarter past twelve, and I saw the van standing in Bethnal Green Road about a quarter past nine p.m. on 29th the tarpaulin was in it—I valued the horse and van and the other things I lost at £120.
FREDERICK CUTHERLET . I am a greengrocer, at 141, Oxford Street, Stepney—on 29th August, at 7.30, I was in my stable—the prisoner, whom I did not know before, came there with a van—he said, "Could you do with two or three bits of harness?" I said, "Yes"—he brought out of the van into my stable an old collar, a pair of left-off reins, and a piece of rope and a fork—he said he wanted half-a-crown for them; I gave him 2s., and took the articles; I had no use for them at the time—he said, "Could you do with a set of harness similar to this out here?" that referred to what was on a roan horse in the van—I said, "Yes, provided it is straight"—he said it was all right, and went away with the van—he came back in about half an hour and brought the harness in a Hack in a costermonger's barrow—he said, "This is the harness"—I said, "It is too big for me, I have no use for it—he told mo the price was 10s. I said I would not buy it—I said, "You had better take it with you;". he said, "I cannot take it now, surely you can do with it"—I said, "No, but you can leave it if you like, and I will try and sell it for you"—he left it and went away—I kept it for a day, and then gave information to Sergeant Gill—on 2nd September the prisoner came early in the morning with another horse and van, and said, "Have you sold my harness?" I said, "It is partly sold, and I expect the man down at eight o'clock with the money"—he promised to meet me at the Artichoke boor-house, near my stable—I met him at the Artichoke, and saw him taken into custody after Hanks pointed him out.
Cross-examined. I had previously had a horse die, I had no harness to sell—you treated me to a bottle of ginger-beer the night you were taken.
August, between quarter and half-past five a.m. I was outside my stable-gate in James Street, into which Gosterwood Street runs—you can see Gosterwood Street from James Street—as I pulled my van out of the yard I saw Mr. Vane's horse and van coming along Gosterwood Street towards me—the horse was iron grey, some people would call it red—I saw Vane's name marked on the front of the van—the prisoner was driving it—I had seen him before—he was driving too fast—I was afterwards called to the Police-court, and I identified the prisoner as the man I saw driving the van.
Cross-examined. I did not hear of the horse and van being lost till half-past nine the same morning—a policeman then told me about it—I said he was a man about my own height, but I could not see if you were standing on anything in the van—the horse was going about ten miles an hour—it was a heavy horse, it would draw two tons anyway; a middling-sized horse with a big body, a cart-horse—I took particular notice of the person driving—you looked rather respectable—I knew you were not the carman.
EDWABD GODDAKD (Sergeant It). On 2nd September, in consequence of information, I went to the Artichoke beer-house—I saw the prisoner inside drunk—I had a drink, came outside, went back, and said to the prisoner, "I want to speak to you, come outside"—a person was with me—I said to the prisoner, "I am a police-sergeant; you answer the description of a man that is wanted for stealing a horse, van, and harness from Deptford, value £100"the prisoner said, "I know nothing about any horse or harness"—I said I should take him into custody—on the way to Arbour Square Police-station he said, "Do they value that lot at £100?"he was placed among about nine other men at the police station, and Cutberlet picked him out—the prisoner said, "My name is John Roberts, I shall decline to give my address"—he made no reply when the charge was read to him.
Cross-examined. You answered the description I received—you were standing by yourself in the Artichoke; six or seven others were in the house—I did not notice Cutberlet there, he may have been—I did not notice the others—he did not give me information that you were there—you were in the house about five minutes after I entered—I did not see the prosecutor in the house; I had not arranged to meet him there at that special time—I had arranged with him to go over.
The prisoner called the following witness.
SUSAN KEW . I am a tailoress, living at 38, Flower and Dean Street, Commercial Street—I live with you—on Friday morning, 29th August, I had a baby lying dead, and you did not go out from half-past ten till about six o'clock on the Tuesday night—you stopped with me, saying, "I cannot leave you in the house by yourself with the dead child"—we buried the child on Saturday—before you went out on the Tuesday you asked me for five shillings to buy a set of harness which somebody had to sell, and I gave it to you—you said you would not be very long—you sell celery and market flowers for a living.
Cross-examined. On 28th August, the prisoner did not go out before twelve noon—the baby was seven months old—we occupy a first-floor room—I hardly know any of my neighbours; I am out of a morning—I was not out on 28th August—the child died on the Wednesday morning, 27th I think it would be, and I did not go out that week—the lodgers
know the child died—I had done no work for a fortnight, but I went out on Thursday for a couple of hours—for a fortnight previously I had only gone out for a few hours to sell walnuts, leaving the prisoner in—he did not go out on the Thursday before twelve, and he came back about half-past two—he has only gone out with rhubarb for the last week.
The prisoner, in his defence, denied all knowledge of the horse and van, and stated that he teas not out of doors on the 29th, nor on the 30th, except between half-past ten and two; that on the Monday Cutberlet asked him to pay a deposit on some harness, and that on Tuesday, when he met him, he said he. should charge him.
The GRAND JURY and the COURT commended the conduct of Sergeant Goddard.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DR MICHELE Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended
MARY JANE HESLOP . Last June I was a cook in the employment of Mrs. Despard, of Esher, Surrey—the house is name Courtlands House—I remember the 13th June—I went round the house that night with a fellow servant—I saw that all was safe—that was about ten minutes to ten o'clock—the next morning, 14th June, I came down about 6.30 I found the dining-room door open, the pantry door open, and the smoking room door open—they had all been shut and locked the night before—I also found the kitchen window open at the top—that had been shut and fastened the night before by a catch—I found the scullery door unlocked and unbolted—on the previous night that had been locked and bolted—when I found this state of affairs I informed my fellow servant, and sent for the police—Mrs. Despard, my mistress, was away at the time.
ADELAIDE HALL . I was a parlourmaid in the employment of Mrs. Despard, of Courtlands House, Esher, on 13th June—I went round the house with the last witness and saw that it was all locked up—I bolted the scullery door—the next morning I found the doors open—the top of the window was pushed down—I came down about a quarter past seven—the last witness communicated to me, and then I came down—you can get from the kitchen all over the house—I missed a silver cup and a pewter cup, which belonged to Mrs. Despard—also a soup-ladle, two plated gravy-spoons, six egg-spoons, and a sauce-ladle—they all belonged to my mistress—in addition to those I missed a small travelling clock, my property—this is it (produced); I identify this clock as belonging to me—it was a presentation clock by a former mistress—on the night of 13th June it was in the pantry—that was one of the rooms of which I found the door open—it had been shut—I have not the slightest doubt this is my clock—I next saw it when Sergeant Gould brought it to me—I am not
quite sure of the date—then I identified it—the value of the clock is eight guineas—it was given to me by Mrs. Whiteway.
Cross-examined. I was told the value of the clock—I was told it was worth eight guineas—Mrs. Whiteway told me—there is no mark on it by which I can identify it—I had torn a tiny little bit off the shutter of the clock there (pointing out the injury to the clock)there is a tiny mark there I tore that off, and I gave that description to the policeman—that little piece torn off the shutter makes me quite sure it is the same clock—that is the way I identify it.
By the JURY. I stated there was that mark on the case when I described the clock.
Re-examined. I gave the description to Sergeant Skinner.
WILLIAM THOMAS SKINNER (Sergeant, Surrey Constabulary). I received information on 14th June of this burglary at Mrs. Despard's—I examined the premises—I received the information about eight o'clock the same morning—I found that the catch of the kitchen window had been forced back—it had been tampered with—the frames of the windows were level, and the woodwork was cut between the two pieces of frames—the paint had been scratched off the ironwork of the catch—I found footprints on the kitchen table and a footprint of the window-sill—Adelaide Hall gave me a description of the clock she lost—the description corresponded with this clock (produced)on the 30th June, in consequence of the information I received, I went to Mrs. Despard's in company with Sergeant Gould—I then showed Adelaide Hall the clock (produced) and the cases—he identified them as her property—on let July I went to King's Cross Police-station—I found the prisoner there detained—I took him into custody—I said, "I shall charge you with burglariously breaking and entering Courtlands House, Esher, the residence of Mrs. Despard"—he made no answer—I took him to Hersham Police-station—on Friday, 4th July, I went to King's Cross Police-station with Detective Sergeant Gould—I then went to Mr. Beringer's shop at Alfred Place, South Kensington—I showed the clock to Mr. Beringer—he identified it.
Cross-examined. When I got to King's Cross Police-station the prisoner was already detained—finding him detained, I made this charge—what had been said previously about it I do not know.
ALFRED GOULD (Detective Sergeant G). On 16th June I went with Detective Willis and other officers to No. 1, Baker's Court, Virginia Row, Bethnal Green, about 6 p.m., to arrest the prisoner—I searched the rooms—this carriage clock was found in my presence—I said to the prisoner, "How do you account for the possession of this carriage clock?"—he said, "A man brought it to me about a week ago, and asked me to sell it for him"—I said, "Who is he?" he replied, "I don't know"—I said, "Can you describe him?"—he said "No"—I then charged him with the unlawful possession of it—he was taken to the Hoxton Police-station—he was remanded for a week at Worship Street, then discharged—previous to 30th June I received information, and on. 30th I proceeded to Esher with Sergeant Skinner, and to Mrs. Despard's, at Courtlands House—I saw Hall—she identified this clock as her property—on 1st July I went to the prisoner's lodgings in Baker's Court—I took him into custody for breaking and entering Mrs. Despard's house, and stealing a carriage clock and other articles; also receiving—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I made a further search, and found a key
of the clock—the officer is here who brought me the clock from an upstairs room—I taxed the prisoner with stealing it—when I had finished searching, the prisoner said, "That clock was brought here during my absence"—it was when we were about to leave that he said, "That clock was left here during my absence. "
Cross-examined. I made this note (produced) of the conversation on the 16th, just after the time when I got to the station—I have given the substance of it in evidence—I have kept the note since that time—when we went on the 16th, I believe the prisoner was asleep—three detectives went in; we had two uniform men in the neighbourhood—the prisoner was called—he had been asleep, undoubtedly—on the 30th he would be charged with the burglary, and with the receiving—it was after the search and after finding the key that he said, "The clock was left at my lodgings during my absence. "
Re-examined. He did not deny they were at his lodgings.
SIDNEY HARRIS . I am an assistant to Mr. Beringer, who carries on business at 30, Alfred Place West, South Kensington—I sold a clock and case to Mrs. Whiteway, similar to this one produced; I will not swear it is the same—I think the price was £3 the sale was on 15th December, 1887it is not our own manufacture—we had one exactly the same in stock at the same time—we had two of that pattern—they are foreign make—I have the other one.
Cross-examined. I have only the two faces and the dial of the clock—they are not manufactured for us—they are imported, probably by thousands.
PHILIP WILLIS (Detective G). I went to No. 1, Baker's Court, Virginia Row, Bethnal Green, with Sergeant Gould, on 16th June—I searched the first floor bedroom, and in a cupboard found this clock—another detective was in the bedroom with me—the room was occupied by the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was present.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY CHAPMAN . I am a carman—I live at 42, Wellington Street, Colchester Street, Pentonville—I remember delivering coals at the prisoner's house in June last—it was the 16th June, and between twelve and two—the prisoner was not at home; his wife was at home—when I took the coals in the house a man followed me behind and in at the street door, a gentleman—he asked if the governor was in—Mrs. Morris said no, he was not in—he had a brown paper parcel in his hand, and he said, "I shall leave this till I call again"—Mrs. Morris said, "Very well, then put it on the table"—he went away—he cut the string with a knife, and I saw it was a little clock—it was in this case; I cannot say it was this—I was waiting for my coal-money when he cut the string—she lifted the top or the side, I do not know which—I did not see the prisoner till about half an hour afterwards in a public-house––I told him a parcel was left for him—he said, "I don't want any parcels left at my place, let them clear it out"—I left him then.
Cross-examined. I do not know what he thought—very likely lie was afraid of the consequences—I am sure it was the 16th; I am positive—if the prisoner says it was left there a week before I suppose it would be wrong if I say it was the 16th I was not called before the Magistrate, I was too late.
GUILTY** of receiving.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell in January, 1877. Twelve Months' Hard Labour
GUILTY . Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
ROBERT TROY . I live at 89, Canbury Park, Kingston-on-Thames, and am a Turf correspondent—I was married to the prisoner at Walton-on the-Hill, in Lancashire, on the 18th of May last year—this (produced) is the certificate; I procured it at Somerset House. (This certified a marriage solemnised at Holy Trinity Church, Walton-on-the-Hill, Lancaster, on May 13, 1889, between Robert Troy, traveller, and Emma Calvert, spinster, by banns)she described herself to me both as a spinster and as a married woman.
By the COURT. I mean that she said she had lived with a man, Richard Vizey Crow—I married her, notwithstanding that, as a spinster—I had known her before I married her, from November, 1885.
By MR. HUTTON. When I first mot her she was leading an immoral life, and I induced her to live with me—she lived with me as my wife, and then left me, but she returned to me, and I married her—I did not know till August last that she had been married previously, and I then started these proceedings—she was in the habit of writing affectionate letters to me—I gave her in charge because I found her in the bedroom with another man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. did not propose to a woman a few weeks before I married you—I did not ask a woman to go into some bushes with me for 5s., a girl from next door—it is a conspiracy to ruin me—I have not treated you most cruelly; I treated you with the utmost kindness—I provided a happy home for you—I did not make you get up out of bed and turn you out in the cold—I did not turn you out one Saturday in the wet, and turn your boxes out, and ask a policeman to lock you up; but I did fetch a policeman to lock you up on account of your violence Re-examined. I have always been kind to her, and treated her well.
GEORGE CALVERT . I am a confectioner, of York—the prisoner is my daughter—I was present when she was married on 28th January, 1883 this (produced) is the certificate. (This certified a marriage, in the parish, of St. Maurice, York, on 28th January, between Richard Vizey Crow, aged 27, bachelor, and Emma Calvert, aged 17, spinster, by banns, no clergyman's name being mentioned.)
ROBERT TROY (Re-examined). I got this certificate of the first marriage from Somerset House; it is a true copy—the original mentioned the name of the clergyman who performed the marriage, but the prisoner got possession of it and tore it up—I did not see the certificates prepared, I simply bespoke them.
into custody on a charge of bigamy—the prosecutor said, "I wish to give this woman in custody for bigamy. I have been in Scotland, having returned this morning. During the time I was away I received information that she had been married previous to marrying me"—she said, "What he states is perfectly true, but he knew I was a married woman before he married me"—I then took her to the station.
JOHN DOWTY (Police Inspector V). The prisoner was brought to the station and charged by the prosecutor—after the certificates were produced Í detained her, and read over the contents of both certificates to her—she said, "That is quite right," and, turning to the prosecutor, she said, "You knew I was a married woman at the time"—she also said to Troy. "You knew all about it, and told me they could not hurt me. "
Prisoner's Defence. I have been very uncomfortable with this man for a long time past, and what I have done I have been compelled to do. He wrote me a letter previous to coming home, and said he was not going to keep me any longer, he had had quite enough of me. That was within the last twelve months. I was given to understand that my first husband had married again; but he had not, he is only living with a woman.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY. Discharged on her father's recognisances to bring her up for judgment when he receives notice to do 80.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
The JURY being unable to agree, were discharged without a verdict and the trial postponed to next session.
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted.
ARTHUR WOOLLEY . I am a joiner, of 2, Secretary Road, Albany Road, Camberwell—on Saturday, 4th October, I went into the Round House, Old Kent Road, about 8.45 I stayed about two minutes, and then went into a urinal—as I was leaving it Boyce took me by the throat, and held me against the wall of the urinal, just in the doorway, and Smith dragged my watch out of my pocket—I took hold of his muffler—I got away from Boyce, but both prisoners got away, and I followed them up the street shouting—a third person came and threw me down, and kicked me in the side—I have not got over it yet; I cannot stand much exertion—I went to the police-station and gave information the same evening—on Monday afternoon a policeman left a message at my house, in consequence of which I went to the Police-station—I there picked Smith, out of a dozen men I should think, as the man who had taken my watch
—I have not the least doubt the prisoners are the men—I fancy I had seen Smith's face somewhere before, but I am not certain—I had not seen Boyce before—last Wednesday week I went to the Police-station and picked out Boyce from among several others.
Cross-examined by Smith. I did not say when I came to pick you out that I did not think I saw anybody; the sergeant did not tap me on the shoulder and say, "Don't you be afraid, they won't hurt you"—it was not after the sergeant spoke to me privately that I said it was you—I did not say that all I could tell you by was the way you tied your handkerchief round your neck.
Cross-examined by Boyce. I gave descriptions to the police after the robbery.
GEORGE HARKETT (P 479). On this Saturday night I was communicated with and had a description, and I received information, in consequence of which I arrested Smith on Monday at a quarter-past one—I told him I should take him into custody for stealing a watch and chain from a gentleman outside the Round House, in Old Kent Road, on Saturday last—he said, "All right; some of you do try to make it up for me"—he went quietly to the station—I knew him before.
Cross-examined by Boyce. You were with Smith when I took him—you were not arrested then; I could not identify you myself from the information.
WILLIAM GOLDER (Sergeant P 18). I was in the Police-station when Harkett brought in Smith—I sent for the prosecutor, and placed the prisoner with seven others in a circle—the prosecutor came in and went straight to Smith—Smith was charged, and he said, "I know nothing of. it"—I did not tap Woolley on the shoulder and say, "Don't be afraid, they will not hurt you here. "
Cross-examined by Smith. I did not say to him, "Have a good look"—when the prosecutor touched you he said, "I am almost sure this is the man"—I said to him, "See if you are sure or not"—he replied, "I am quite sure"—I put you in the dock as soon as you were identified.
DICK DOLERY (P 157). I arrested Boyce on Tuesday night, 14th October—I charged him with being concerned with another man in custody with stealing a watch with violence on the 4th of this month—he said, "What, because you saw me with the man the other day?"—he was taken to the station and placed with five others—the prosecutor identified him, and had no doubt about him, and he was charged.
Cross-examined by Boyce. The prosecutor gave a description that answered the description of you two days after—on the Monday after the day of the robbery I saw you and Smith in Rodney Road, but I had not heard of the robbery then—you did not pass me on the Tuesday with your work-basket by the Huntsman—I did not tell you when I arrested you that I had seen you on the Tuesday—I did not see you between the 6th and the 14th.
Smith, in his statement before the Magistrate, said he could prove where he was, and that he was
Boyce denied all knowledge of the matter.
JACK BUTLER . I am a labourer, living at 227, East Street, Old Kent Road—on Saturday, October 4th, I went into the Victory with some friends about eight o'clock, where I saw you—both your hands were tied
up—we were drinking there till half-pant eleven, and I said to Smith, "Let us go round the other side and have a game of dominoes;" the manager said we were too late, so we had a game of tippet—we stopped till the house closed, and then we went up Barlow Street and round Tatham Street—I got a pennyworth of tobacco, and then we got a light in a shop close by—we talked to a baked potato man at the corner for a few minutes, and then I wished you good-night, and did not see you again till now.
Cross-examined. I was at the Victory till twelve with Smith and Thomas Whitcher, and Joe and Albert Brown—I have seen Whitcher since—I daresay he remained for an hour after I went in, and then went away—I have seen Brown once since; he was in there till about eleven or longer—there were a lot of other people there—I had often been to the Victory; I was not a regular customer—the barman served me—he saw Brown, Smith, and Whitcher—I paid for one quart—we might have had fifteen or twenty pots—Smith was with me the whole time—Whitcher, Brown, and the barman are not here to-day; I should not have been if I had not been subpiœnaed—I have not been able to work for twelve months now, I broke my leg—I left Guy's Hospital on 3rd August—I worked for Mr. Bill, Westminster Bridge Road, for five weeks, and before that, seven years for Newington Vestry—my uncles help me now—I have been fined once for gambling, but I have never been charged with any other offence—I first knew the prisoner was charged on the Wednesday.
HENRY WINTER . I am a fishshop keeper, at 18, Bagshot Street, East Street, Walworth—on Saturday, 4th October, I went into the Huntsman at five minutes past eight to see my brother, and Schofield, my friend, came in. and we stayed there till twenty-five minutes to nine—I saw Boyce there with Clark, in the middle compartment, when I went in—he stood facing meat twenty-five minutes to nine I and Schofield and my brother left Boyce there, and walked along East Lane—we saw the prosecutor running out of Beck way Street with his hat in his left hand—he stood by the corner of Barlow Street, and put his hat on, and then started on running, hollosing out "Stop thief"—eight or ten persons were behind him—he ran past us—we walked on.
Cross-examined. The Huntsman is about a quarter of a mile from the Round House, I should think—the Victory, in Barlow Street, is 120 to 130 yards from the Bound House—we left the Huntsman at twenty-five minutes to nine, and barely five minutes afterwards we saw the prosecutor about halfway between the Bound House and the Huntsman, about 120 to 130 yards from the Huntsman—he was running from the direction of the Bound House, towards the house I had left—I have known Boyce from a child, but I never had anything to say to him—I was in the public-house for half an hour—I am a teetotaler, and drank ginger beer—Boyce did not seem drunk, but the man he was with seemed to have a drop of drink—Boyce was talking to Clark in another compartment to that which we were in—he was standing facing us, and I could not help seeing him—I did not say good-night to him when I left; I never spoke to him—I heard from the constable of Boyce's arrest on the night it took place—I was not asked to give evidence before I was subpœnaed by the prisoner's grandfather, who asked me if I saw it—I met a sergeant, and
told him I saw the man in the Huntsman, and that he was as innocent as I am—afterwards I told the grandfather I saw it.
By the COURT. The Victory is about two hundred yards from the place I saw the prosecutor running, I should think—I did not see Smith that evening.
HENRY SCHOFIELD . I am a fitter's labourer, and live at 37, Barlow Street, East Street, Walworth—on this Saturday I followed Winter into the Huntsman—I saw Boyce there at five minutes past eight—we stayed there till twenty-five minutes to nine—I was going to my club—we came out and walked down East Street, and when we got as far as Barlow Street we saw the prosecutor running with his hat in his hand, holloaing out "Stop thief"; at the corner of Barlow Street he put his hat on, and made another run—a lot of lads and boys were running behind him and with him—that was at twenty minutes to nine—I saw nothing more of Boyce after I came out of the Huntsman.
Smith, in his defence, said he knew nothing of it that the prosecutor only identified him after the sergeant spoke to him, and that at first the prosecutor said he had lost his watch, and afterwards he said his watch and chain, Boyce said that he knew nothing of it
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HEDDON offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Stephen.
CAROLINE LEWIS . I live at 16, Hollington Street, Camberwell—I have lived with the prisoner as his wife about eighteen month—son September 21st, about half-past ten at night, I was with my little boy in Avenue Road, Camberwell, and saw the prisoner there; he asked me to come home with him; instead of doing so I went away with a friend of his to a public-house—I was very much the worse for drink at the time—I cannot remember anything more—when I came to myself I was at the police-station, and the doctor was attending me with a cut in my face—I was under his care for a month.
VICTOR LEWIS . I am a son of the last witness—I was with her on Sunday night, 21st September, about a quarter to eleven, in Avenue Road—I saw the prisoner there—he did not say anything to mother—I did not see him do anything; I saw the blood down her face; I did not" see him do it—I cried, and a. policeman came up.
WILLIAM CARTER (L 314). On 13th September, about twenty minutes to eleven, the lad came up to me, and, in consequence of what he said, I went and saw the prosecutrix leaning against the public-house—he had hardly told me about it when the prisoner rushed out of the public-house, seized the prosecutrix by the hair of her head, and drew this knife across her throat—I took hold of him and asked him for the knife—he said, "I
don't want it now; I have done it, and must put up with it"; then, after a pause of a second or two, he said, "I was out of temper, and have had a drop of drink"—I took him to the station—he was perfectly sober; the woman was very much the worse for drink; she started bleeding as I took the prisoner into custody.
FRANK REED . I am a surgeon, of 304, Walworth Road—I saw the prosecutrix at the station about a quarter to eleven; she was suffering from an incised wound on the left side of the throat, transversely from the jugular vein about a quarter of an inch, extending right across to the centre of the jaw, involving a clean cut such as would be done with this knife; another quarter of an inch would have been fatal—it would have affected the carotid artery—the wound itself is not serious; she has been under my care for about a month, as suppuration took places—he is all right now—the prisoner was sober, she was not.
Prisoner's Defence. I am sorry for it. If I had been sober I would not have attempted such a thing, I love the woman too well. Since I have been from service, two years now, she has been with another man.
GUILTY on the Second Count . Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the Attempt Two Years' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. GILL and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
THOMAS PICKETT . I live at 173, Brook Street, Newington Butts, and am a wheelwright—about half-past ten on the night of 15th September I was in the Standard beer-house—Ray and the prisoner came in there together—Ray said to me, "You are a cunning,"—and came over and made a kick at me—the prisoner touched Ray on the shoulder and said, "Don't hit a boy; why don't you hit a man?—"Ray said, "If you don't get away I will hit you," and he deliberately spat or blew in the prisoner's face three times, and wanted to fight him—the prisoner said, "I won't fight you to-night, I will fight you in the morning"—Ray said, "I won't fight you in the morning; if we leave it till the morning we won't fight at all; we have been going to fight a long while"—the prisoner said, "If you want to fight me bad, I will fight you one hand," and then he asked to have one hand tied behind him, but Ray said, "No, I will fight you with the two," and pulled him outside the beer-shop—I went to see the fight—they went about twenty yards round the corner to a little court—the prisoner took off his waistcoat—they both sparred up together, and Ray made a hit at the prisoner, and the prisoner made a hit at Ray; they both got together—Ray got away and made a hit at the prisoner, who hit him on the chest—he staggered back, made another hit at the prisoner, and then fell down, and that was the end of the fight—it lasted two minutes—Ray never got up—the prisoner said nothing, but walked
away and stood outside the Standard, and then fetched a barrow, on which I helped to put Ray—the prisoner and another man were there—Ray was taken off on the barrow; I did not go with him.
(Cross-examined). Ray and the prisoner were quite friendly at the regatta that afternoon—they had known each other a considerable time Ray was as near the prisoner's size as possible—they wore not exactly an equal match; Ray was supposed to be a fighting man—the prisoner refused for some time when Ray asked him to come outside; he was very reluctant to go out, and Ray had to pull him out—the prisoner struck Ray on the chest, he staggered back, made another hit at the prisoner, who went on one side, and Ray fell down and lay there; it was immediately after striking at the prisoner he fell down—he lunged with some force; the blow would have been of considerable force if it had struck the prisoner, but it missed him, and Ray fell to the ground—the prisoner went to get the barrow about two minutes afterward—she did not kick Ray or make any attempt to kick him—I was not there when the police came up—I did not think Ray was dead.
Re-examined. I had seen them together at the regatta by Blackfriars Bridge, and in a public-house drinking together—the blow Ray received was on the left hand side of his chest—he fell on his face, and never moved afterwards.
GEORGE HAYWARD . I am manager of the Standard beer-house, Friar Street, Blackfriars—I had seen Ray and the prisoner in my house on different occasions—they knew each other—on 15th September they came in about twenty minutes past ten—I daresay eight or nine people were in my bar—the prisoner and Ray were larking about and sparring, and getting violent, and I told them to get outside—Ray became very violent, and wanted to fight, and wanted to kick Pickett—the prisoner told him not to kick the boy, but to fight a man, and they went outside, and I saw no more—before they went out they were very violent, and I heard a lot of bad language—the prisoner wanted to put off fighting till next morning—Ray insisted on making him fight that night, and blew filth in his face two or three times, pretending to spit—they left the house about half-past ten—Ray had no coat or hat on—the prisoner took off his coat in the doorway—when they went out all the customers went out to see the fight I remained in the house, as I had no one else the—ret—he prisoner and Pickett came back in three or five minutes—Pickett said, "Bog Tray is knocked out "the prisoner said nothing; ho seemed to be very sorry, and was very excited—he went out, and I saw no more of him—I afterwards saw Ray dead at the hospital.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner dragged out of the Standard by Ray, who took hold of him, and used very bad language, and said, "Come on, we will fight to-night. "
Re-examined. They hustled one another out, I mean.
WILLIAM WAINER . I am a billposter—at half-past ten on this night I was at the Standard—I saw the prisoner and Ray come in-several other people were there—I saw them go out, and I went round to protect my father's property—I saw the prisoner and Ray stand up; Ray struck one blow, and the prisoner struck one—I saw Ray fall after ho received a blow on the chest and jaw from the prisoner—I then called a constable—Ray was intoxicated at the public-house—both men had been drinking;
I cannot say if the prisoner was as bad, but Ray was very much drunk; I don't think he was sober enough to defend himself.
Cross-examined. Ray could stand up—he walked the thirty yards to where the fight took place—I did not see him kick at Pickett, or pull the prisoner out of the Standard—he was standing up in the public-house; I was there—I say he was not in a condition to defend himself, because of the way he was reeling about outside—both men were reeling about—the fight only lasted two minutes—the blow on the jaw was the second blow—I did not see Ray aim a blow at the prisoner just before he stumbled—I heard that the prisoner had saved Ray's life that day; I do not know it.
Re-examined. I did not see them take their coats off.
HENRY BALDWIN . I am a costermonger, living at Blackfriars—I saw the two men before they went to the Standard, outside the Bell, I saw the prisoner pulling Ray over the pavement; they went towards the Standard, and I lost sight of them––about ten minutes to eleven I saw them stripped in Friar's Place, fighting—they only had their shirts, trousers and boots on—the prisoner struck Ray on the left side of the heart, and he fell, and he got up, and the second round he struck Ray on the left side of the heart again—Ray staggered on his legs, and aimed a shot; the prisoner struck him again, and he fell and never got up again—about a dozen people were standing round—after the prisoner knocked Ray down, he turned round and said, "I am a good mind to kick your—brains in—he did not touch him—he picked up Ray's head, and said, "I have knocked out some—good men in my time, but I have knocked you—well out that you will never get up again"—the prisoner got a barrow on which Ray was put and wheeled away—a constable came up—both men were intoxicated.
Cross-examined. I am quite sure I saw the prisoner strike Ray three blows over the heart; he never struck him about the head or face that I am aware of—I was there the whole time—I am quite sure about his saying ho would kick his brains out—a policeman came up and said he would take Bay in charge if the prisoner did not remove him, and the prisoner said, "Oh! oh! oh!" and jeered at him—Cripps is not the policeman; there was another policeman there.
Re-examined. I knew both the men.
HARRY RICHARDS . I am a grocer, living at Friar Street—on this night I saw the prisoner and Ray come out of the Standard, turning up their shirt-sleeves—they went to a court about-fifteen yards further on the same side—when they got a certain distance down the court the prisoner said to Ray, "Will this do?" Ray said, "Yes"—they began to fight—several people were standing round—the men struck two or three blows—the prisoner struck Ray a blow on the chest which glanced upwards—it knocked Ray down—he staggered to his feet and put his hands in a fighting attitude, but ho fell forwards; he had not the strength—he was picked up—I did not move—after a few seconds I saw he was insensible—I went and got a jug of water, and it was thrown over him—the prisoner came back from somewhere, and took hold of Ray's head and said, "Oh, he is out, isn't he?" in a sorrowful way, as if he was sorry.
Cross-examined. I never heard him threaten to kick the man's brains
out—I heard no fierce words uttered while the man was tying there—I don't think I was present when the policeman came up.
JOHN MILLEN . I am a wire worker, of 12, Surrey Street, Blackfriars—just before eleven on this night I was passing the Standard on the other side of the road—the door was open, and I saw the prisoner and Ray inside quarrelling together, shaking their heads about—about a quarter past eleven I went to Friars Place and saw Ray lying on the ground—a constable came up at the same time as I did, and I said to the constable, "It is all right, I will get him home, he is a neighbour of mine"—the prisoner was there—I did not notice what he was doing—someone was holding Ray's head; I could not say if it was the prisoner—I said something to the constable about a barrow, and someone got a barrow, and the constable put Ray on, and I wheeled him away—the prisoner helped me along with the barrow—two constables were there; they had a doubt that something was wrong, and came running along to know where I was taking Ray to—I said, "To his father's place"—when the policemen came after us, the prisoner ran away, he said, "The police is after me"—I took Ray to his father's door, and there the police said, "He is a dead 'un," and I ran him off to the hospital as quick as I could—before the prisoner ran away, he said to me, as we were going across Blackfriars Road, "Do you think he is dead?" I said "No, dead be blowed, he is only in a drunken sleep"—he said, "Shove up and get away from the police on that side, or else they might pinch me; "that meant lock him up—he said, "Do you think you had better take him to the hospital, or take him off home?" and I said, "I am going to take him off home, as the police have allowed him in my hands. "
HENRY CRIPPS (M 185). About eleven on this night I was in the Blackfriars Road, and from something I heard I went to Friar's Place, where I saw Ray on the ground with several people round him—another constable followed me, about two yards behind—the prisoner was not there then, he came up afterwards—Ray was put on to a barrow, and Millen said he would take him home to his father's house; that he was his brother-in-law—I had no knowledge of the fight—when they had started with Ray on the barrow I went after them, but the prisoner had gone when I got up to the barrow—I took Bay to the hospital, where the doctor pronounced him dead.
Cross-examined. I and the other constable remained together the whole time—I should have heard anything he said—neither I nor he said that if he did not move the man who was lying on the ground I should take him into custody—the prisoner, did not jeer at us, he said nothing to me or the other constable.
GEORGE LOWE (Inspector L). I was on duty at Kennington Road Station on the morning of the 17th September, when the prisoner came there and said, "I wish to give myself up about that man they say I have killed"—I said, "Are you Long Denny?" he said, "Yes, my name is Daniel Rushbrook, I live at 21, Vauxhall Walk"—I said, "Is there anything else you wish to say?" he replied, "No" he was detained and handed over to Divall.
and challenged mo out to fight"—ho was taken to the station and charged.
ARTHUR COBURN LANCASTER . I am house-surgeon at St. Thomas'—sat half-past eleven on the night of the 15th September I saw Ray at the hospital—he had apparently been dead about a quarter of an hour or rather more—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—I found the stomach distended, with an excessive amount of unmasticated food that had apparently boon bolted without chewing—with the exception of a bruise on the right side of the face, and a slight scratch, there was no external mark of injury—having regard to the extended condition of the man's body, a blow on the left side of the chest over the heart might cause death—I found nothing internally that would cause death; the condition of the organs was healthy—a blow on the lower part of the chest, on the loft side over the stomach or heart, or a blow on the head might cause death, without leaving any external mark; a blow on the lower part of the chest would cause death, by stopping the heart's action through nervous shock; that would be more likely to occur through the condition of the stomach—the stoppage of the heart's action was the cause of death—there was nothing to account for it except such a blow as has been described; it might have been caused by a blow on the head, but that is not so likely a cause.
Cross-examined. I could not account for death in the post-mortem examination—it would be probable that if a man received a blow over the heart of sufficient severity to cause death there would be some indication on the flesh a quarter of an hour afterwards, but it would be by no means necessary—I stripped and examined him directly he came to the hospital—I saw no indication of the blow—I don't think it would be possible for stoppage of the heart's action to be caused by a man striking out and missing his mark, even if a man were in drink and his stomach distended—if a man fell, and his chest came in contact with some hard substance which caused a violent blow, it would have the effect of a blow; he would have to fall on a projection.
By the JURY. I think it would be possible for the man, after receiving the blow which is supposed to have been fatal, to get up and lunge forward—I don't think the blow would cause absolutely instantaneous death; I think' it might give him time to rise again, but not more than a second or two; I cannot be positive on that point.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty. I reserve my defence, and call no witnesses here. "
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY. Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GEOOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MESSRS. BESLEY AND MACDONNA Defended.
ABRAHAM HOWICK . I live at Doghurst Farm, at Nutfield—I bought a crop on a field called Hooley Farm, about 200 yards beyond Coulsdon Station on the South-Eastern Railway—the field is bounded on one side by the main road to Brighton, and on the other side by the railway—separating the railway from the field is an embankment—on 30th July I had a hayrick in that field, I saw it safe on that day; the value of the
hay was about £120 when I went there next it was burning—I do not know the prisoner, he was a stranger to me.
Cross-examined. I bought the crop standing on the ground—the stack was ten yards one way and seven the other—Nut—field is three miles from where I live at Redhill—I never saw Mr. Bell before; I know nothing at all of him.
THOMAS WOODMORE . I live at 2, Queen Anne's Cottages, Smithem Bottom, Coulsdon—I am relieving signalman in the service of the South-Eastern Railway at Coulsdon—on the evening of 31st July I was in the goods yard of that station—Mason was near me—about 200 yards from the station was a rick of hay in a field, the hay of which was bought by Mr. Howick—I know the rick—you can see it from the goods yard—about a quarter to eight in the evening my attention was called to the rick I and Mason thought we saw a man and a woman round the rick; we saw someone there standing, and he continued to stand till we crossed the yard and got on to the line—we went round by the embankment to opposite the hayrick; we were then nearer the rick than when we were in the goods yard; we were about sixty yards from it—looking from the embankment to the rick we saw the prisoner strike a match and light his pipe with it, and then hold the match to the stack—we saw the smoke coming from his mouth and pipe—his back was towards us—when he put the match to the rick the match went out; the hay did not catch fire—he stood straight, and had a good look round then—on the top of the embankment, where Mason and I were, there is a quickset hedge five or six feet high—we were crouching down behind the hedge and looking through it—having had a good look round, he knelt down and struck a second match, and put that to the stack—the stack did not catch fire; the match went out—he stood up and had another good look round, knelt down again, and as he was kneeling down he had another look round—he knelt down, and struck another match and put it to the stack, with the result that the stack caught alight—when he turned round the three times and had a good look round I could see his pipe in his mouth, and it was alight—the stack having caught alight the flames leapt up at once—the stack was fifteen yards in the field from the gate leading into the field from the main road—the prisoner, after it caught alight, picked up his hat and umbrella and brown-paper parcel, which had been on the ground, and walked away from the stack towards the road—I and Mason got through the hedge and walked after him—just as he got into the road I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "You had better come round with me"—he said, "What for?"—I was in a uniform of corduroy trousers and jacket; I had no initials on me—Mason does not wear uniform—I said, "Have not you just lit that stack in the field?" he said, "No, I think you have made a grand mistake" and he said, "Mind who you are handling of, for I am a real gentleman"—we told him he had better come back with us—he started to come back, and as we were walking by he said to me and Mason, "Can we not £0 and put it out, and say no more about it?"—we said, "No, we will get the fire engines to put that out "when we got down a bit further we called the signalman in the box, and asked him to telegraph for the fire engines, which he did—we came with the prisoner, and met Police Constable Eli Hammond, who was in plain clothes, in the roadway, and
few gave the prisoner into his charge, and we should we should give this man in charge for setting light to the haystack—we could not see the haystack from where we were then, we had passed the railway station—Hammond told the prisoner he was a police constable—the prisoner handed him his card, and said, "It is quite a mistake"—I have no doubt that the prisoner is the man I saw at the haystack, or that his pipe was lit by the first match.
Cross-examined. I wont before the Magistrates at Croydon Police-court and gave my account of this matter on 1st August, the next day—I recollected then thoroughly all that had occurred the night before—I have a badge on my cap, with the initials of the railway company, that is usual for signalmen—that is all I mean by uniform—I have sworn that it was before eight that I saw this; it was ten to eight. (It appeared by the depositions that the witness had said ten minutes past eight at the Policecourt)I have not since found out when the sun sots—my deposition was read to me—we said about the prisoner saying, "For I am a real gentleman" at Croydon—I observed that it was omitted in what was read to me—I did not call their attention to the fact that they had not put it down—I told the Magistrate that, when passing the rick, he said, "Cannot we put it out?—"the addition, "And say no more about it" was what the prisoner said—we remember better now than we did at the Police-court—we remembered better on 1st August the occurrences of the night before—I did not, on 1st August, say, "And say no more about it," because I did not then think of it—I used the expression then, "He had a good look round—"it was put down, I believe—he was standing up when first we saw him—I never said to the Croydon justices that he was lying down—I told them we saw him standing up when we first saw him—it was false to put down that he was lying down—on the striking of the second match he knelt down—I said that before—he knelt down for the second and third matches—his back was towards us all the time, we being behind a five or six feet hedge, which was the boundary to the railway embankment—the railway was down below us when we were on the embankment—the railway runs in a cutting—there is no obstruction between the top of the cutting and the bottom of the cutting; the hedge runs on the top of the embankment—the flames leaped up at once—my expression at Croydon was, "became all of a blaze—"instantaneously with the third match there was a tremendous blaze—flames were coming from the rick when he said, "Come and put it out—"we did not attempt to do anything to put it out.
Re-examined. The embankment has a hedge on. the top of it—we saw flames when the match was applied as we looked through the hedge, and as we crossed the field going towards the rick we could still see the flames—until I gave my evidence before the Croydon Magistrates I had never given evidence before in Court—it was the first time I had ever been in Court—I do not know the prisoner at all.
JAMES MASOX . I live at Smithem Bottom, Coulsdon, and am a platelayer on the South-Eastern Railway—on 31st July I was with Woodmore in the goods-yard—my attention was directed to Mr. Howick's stack of hay—I looked from the goods-yard, and we saw someone lying down under the haystack—I and Woodmore went round till we got on the top of the embankment, behind a quickset hedge looking at the rick, and we
watched—I saw the prisoner, who was the person we had seen lying down, strike a lucifer and light his pipe, and put the lucifer down to the bottom of the haystack—before he put the lucifer to the bottom of the stack I could see his pipe was alight—I will swear it was alight, I saw smoke coming from his mouth—the rick did not catch fire when the first match was put to it—then he looked round, and went back and kneeled under the haystack and struck a second lucifer, which he put down at the bottom of the haystack, and that lucifer went out—he then struck a third one, after just looking over his shoulder, and put it down at the bottom of the haystack, and the haystack caught fire; the blaze was up above his head before he could get off of his knees—I and Woodmore were about sixty yards away from the haystack—we crossed the field and went towards him, he was walking away from the haystack—we tapped him on the shoulder—Woodmore said, "You had better come back along with us," and he said, "What for?" and Woodmore said, "For setting that haystack on fire"—he said, "You must have mistaken me"—at the time we said "for setting the haystack on fire," it was blazing up over the stack—he was about twenty yards from the stack when we stopped him, as near as I could say—I said to him, "Aren't you ashamed for setting that poor man's haystack on fire?" and he said, "Can't we go and put it out, and say no more about it?"—I said, "No, we will go and send for some one else—"we took him past the station and told the signalman to telegraph for fire-engines—we went on and met Police-constable Hammond, who was in plain clothes, and the prisoner was given into his custody—when we first saw the prisoner lying down he had nothing in his hands except a pipe—when he got up from his knees and the hayrick took fire, he had a black bag and a brown-paper parcel and umbrella—when he was striking the matches and looking round, the bag, parcel, and umbrella were Tying beside him; he picked them up and walked away with them—I did not know him, he was a perfect stranger to me.
Cross-examined. I am engaged on the same railway as Woodmore, and we both work at the same station—I have seen him many times since our examination at Croydon—I have not talked this over very much with him—I said at Croydon, before the justices, "Are you not ashamed to set that poor man's haystack on fire?"—the prisoner said, "Cannot we put it out?"—I said, "No, we will look after you"—I don't know why I had added the words to-day, "And say no more about it"—I think it is the same thing—the prisoner's back was towards me all the time—when the second match was lit the wind blew it out while it was at the bottom of the stack—he put the three lucifers to the bottom of the stack—he put the first one which he lit his pipe with to the bottom of the stack—then he struck a second, and that blew out while it was in his hand—we could see the flame of the lucifer, and could tell the wind blew it out, though he was at the bottom at the stack, and kneeling down he put the first lucifer down at the bottom of the stack.
Re-examined. The pipe was lit by the first lucifer struck—when he turned round to look over his shoulder, he had his pipe in his mouth, and I saw the smoke come from his mouth, that was before he struck the second match—I had never given evidence before in a Police-court; it was a strange place to me.
July, from information received, I went in the direction of Hooley farm—I was in plain clothes—as I wont along the main road I met Woodmore and Mason with the prisoner in their charge—they told me in his hearing that he had set fire to a haystack belonging to Mr. Howick—the prisoner said nothing—I told him I was a police constable, and that I should take him into custody—he said, "This is quite a mistake, I did not do it; if I did, it was an accident—"Woodmore said, "You did; you struck three matches, and lit the stack with the third one from the bottom"—the prisoner made no further answer—he was taken to the Police station and searched—on him were found a tobacco pouch, this box of safety matches, and other things—a pipe was handed to me by Mason.
Cross-examined. They told me they had taken the pipe out of his mouth; I have the pipe—the prisoner gave me his card at the time, it had his name and address on it—I don't know what has become of it.
BRYANT MARSHALL . I am an architect and surveyor at Guild—ford—on the part of the defendant I have surveyed this place, and I have made this plan—it is quite correct; this is a fac-simile—the distance from the goods-yard to the place where the hayrick stood is about two hundred yards—from the nearest spot of the railway embankment to which the two witnesses say they moved to the hayrick is seventy yards—there is a cutting, at the bottom of which the line runs, and on the top is a quickset hedge—I stood behind the hedge, and you can see through it in places and over it; you had to choose your spot to see through it; but if you did choose your spot you could see through it.
Cross-examined, It is a quickset hedge on the top of the embankment; there may be a rail-fence as well—it is two hundred yards to the goods-yard, and a good many more to Coulsdon Station; it is about five hundred yards from the field to the passenger station—the road one would follow to Redhill sweeps round by the goods-yard, and so to Redhill.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty, and reserve my defence."
Many witnesses deposed to the prisoner's excellent character.
GUILTY . Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
NAOMI MASTER , I am the wife of George Masters, butcher, High Street, Wandsworth—on 26th July I was at the desk in the shop when the prisoner came in and presented this cheque for £5 10s. 6d., and asked if I would give him change—he presented this card, and said Mrs. Martyr had given him the cheque in payment for some work he had done, that Mr. Martyr had gone to a bean feast with his men, and had left the cheque with her—believing him, I gave him the money, £5 10s. 6d. my assistant Phillips was outside in front of the shop—the cheque was presented, and was returned marked "Signature differs"—information was given to the police on Monday morning—I was afterwards taken to the station, and pointed out the prisoner from five or six
other men—I am quite sure he is the man—he endorsed the cheque in my presence.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My husband came home at a quarter-past eleven, and I showed him the cheque directly—you were in the shop about ten minutes—I was talking to you—no one else came in.
ALFRED PHILLIPS . I am assistant to Mr. Masterson 26th July, about half-past ten, the prisoner came in with a cheque, and I saw him produce a card—I did not hear the conversation—I was afterwards shown a number of men at the station, and picked out the prisoner; I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I was outside the shop—you were there ten minutes—standing at the desk—you had your back towards the door, but I saw your face.
FREDERICK MARTYR . I am a timber merchant, of West Hill, Wandsworth—I have a customer named Nicholl, at Battersea—I do not know the prisoner; I never had any transaction with him that I am aware of—I do not know J. Nicholl and Co., mentioned on this card—I have an account at the Wandsworth branch of the London and County Bank—this cheque has not come out of my book; the signature is not mine—I never authorised anybody to sign it—I did not give my wife a cheque to give to any one—I was not at a bean feast on this day—I have a brother named John; he has an account at the same bank; this is not his writing.
WILLIAM JAMES REED . I am manager of the Wandsworth branch of the London and County Bank—this cheque was presented to me, and was returned marked "Signature differs—"two brothers named Saxby had an account with us, which was running since 1886 till some six months ago, when it became dormant—this cheque comes from a book issued to Saxby Brothers on 20th July, 1887 the prisoner is not either of those brothers-we have no customer named Nicholl, of Balham Grove, the address on this card—I know Mr. John Martyr; this cheque was not drawn by him.
Cross-examined. I never saw you till at the Police-court.
GEORGE BELLOWS (Detective V). On 1st September, at 8 p.m., I arrested the prisoner at Battersea Rise—I said, "I am police officer, and hold a warrant for a man named Nicholls, who you answer the description of, for obtaining £5 10s. 6d. by a false cheque from Mr. Masters, butcher. High Street, Wandsworth, on 26th July; for that you will have to go to the station with me"—he said, "I know nothing of it, it is a mistake—"on the way to. the station he said, "This is all foreign to me—"at the station he was placed with five other men, and was identified by the first two witnesses—when charged, he said, "It is a mistake in identification—"the witnesses were not together at the identification; they were admitted one at a time.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "I never saw the woman or the cheque before. I know nothing of it."
The prisoner denied the charge, and called the following witnesses.
JAMES NEAL SAXBY . I am a brother of the prisoner—on Wednesday, 23rd July, I made arrangement with him and another brother to meet me on the Saturday at New Cross Road, about four in the afternoon—the prisoner was there, and my brother William, and a stranger who I did not know, and we were assisting to build a shed, or workshop—we had
tea together, and had a game of cards, and about half-past nine I said I must be going, and the stranger and my brother Robert and his wife and the prisoner walked to New Cross Station—we went into the Rose Tavern and had a glass of ale—we found there was no train till a quarter or twenty minutes past ten, so I bid the prisoner and my other brother good-night, and they took the train, and I went home; I live at New Cross—I might say that the whole of the brothers are in the habit of meeting every Saturday night, and have done for years, and we seldom leave till the last thing at night.
Cross-examined. I am not one of the brothers who had the banking account—I did not hear of this charge till the prisoner was arrested; the prisoner, my brother William, and Robert, and the stranger were all together on this occasion from four to half-past nine, and then we went to New Cross Station—I saw the prisoner into the train; it left about ten—it was twenty minutes past eleven when I got home.
WILLIAM SAXBY . On Saturday, 26th July, I and the prisoner and my brother George went to New Cross from Clapham Junction, about eleven in the morning, and in the evening we stopped at my eldest brother's to do the workshop—we left there about ten, and then went to the station—we went into the Rose and had a glass of ale, and then the prisoner and I caught the train, about half-past ten, I think, to Clapham Junction; there we met another brother—we went into the Falcon and had a glass of ale, and then went home together, leaving my brother on our way.
Cross-examined. We got to New Cross Station about ten—we caught the half-past ten train—I live at Waterloo Road, Clapham Common—I got home about twelve—I am one of the brothers who had an account at this bank—it is not closed; I have had no notice from the bank—I had a cheque-book—I could not say whether the cheque in question was from my book; I have not seen it—I have not my cheque-book with me—no one had access to it but myself; I generally carried it in my pocket—the prisoner sometimes worked with meat times I take off my coat when I work, not very often—I never carried my cheque-book in my overcoat—at that time I was employing men; I did not do anything myself—I could not say whether I have taken off my coat and put it down with my cheque-book in it; I possibly might have done—I remember this night of 26th July, because my eldest brother started moving at the end of that week—we amused ourselves with a game of cards in the evening—it was after ten when we got to New Cross Station—I am not aware that there is a train at 9.51; it was after that, I am positive—I have not got any cheques now, and have not for some considerable time—this cheque is No. 23790; I do not know what has become of the others; I used all my cheques—I cannot recognise this cheque at all—I have not had any cheques for the last twelve months—my account was in the name of William Saxby, not Saxby Brothers(Mr. Reed. That was a separate account. This cheque is not out of that book)I signed my own cheques—I was in partnership with one of my brother—she signed all the cheques in the name of Saxby Brothers, and I signed mine as William Saxby, a separate account—the prisoner never worked for me during the time the business was Saxby Brothers.
GEORGE WRIGHT . I have known the prisoner and his brothers about two years; on Friday, 25th, and Saturday, 26th July the prisoner was helping me build a shop at the back of his brother's house at 34 8; New
Cross Road—on the Saturday we left off work about eight—the elder brother was out, and we waited till he came home, between eight and nine; we then had some supper, and after supper we walked to the station together to see him and his brother off—we had a glass of ale at the Rose previous to parting; it was as near as I could guess ten o'clock, it might be a little later; I returned home to 348, where I occupy apartments.
Cross-examined. I heard of this charge about five or six weeks ago from the prisoner's brother—he did not tell me the date—I heard of it while he was having the hearing—I know that the 26th July was the day the brother had to give up possession of his house, and I was asked if I recollected John being with us that day.
ROBERT SAXBY . I am the prisoner's eldest brother—it was my workshop that they were building—they assisted me to move on the 21st and 22nd July, and also on the 25th and 26th I went out about half-past eleven on the 26th to Norwood, and I returned by the seventeen minutes past seven from Norwood Junction; I got home a little eight, and I found there my brothers John, William, and James, and Mr. Wright—they were waiting for me to pay their wages for the work they had been doing—after I had paid them they had some supper, some coffee, and I walked with them to the Brighton New Cross Station—I think we got there about a few minutes before ten—we went into the Rose, as they had to wait some few minutes for the train, and I think we each had a glass of bitter—they caught the train something after ten, which went round to Victoria and to Clapham Junction, and then I walked home, and got home about eleven.
Cross-examined. I had no particular reason for noticing the time—I think Wright was in my house when my brother William came to me to see if I could bail the prisoner out; that was the day after he was taken before he was before the Magistrate—I had Mr. Haynes, the solicitor, there—none of us were called as witnesses.
By the JURY. They were playing cards when I got home; they had finished the workshop.
Cross-examined. I live at Clapham Junction—I was at the Falcon that night; I and my wife walked down there, and I had a glass of beer—I had been waiting for the prisoner for about an hour—I am one of the brothers who had an account at the Wandsworth branch; it was William and I—we had one cheque-book for the firm, and my brother had his own private account—the cheque-book of the firm was kept in the desk at the shop, 40, Northcote Road—the prisoner came there occasionally, very seldom, not as he chose, because the shop door was kept locked; He only came on a casual visit—I did not take notice of what he did when he was there, I was about my business—I swear he has never been in the shop alone; I did not distrust him, but I did not leave anyone there—I kept the cheque-book locked up and the door locked—I signed the cheques "A. G. Saxby Brothers;" I was the only one that signed—I only carried the cheque-book in my pocket when I went to the bank—I heard of this charge against the prisoner when the detective took him into custody, I can't remember the date; he was charged before the Magistrate the next morning—I was there, I did not give evidence
I could not say whether this cheque came from our book unless I had it here—I did not miss a cheque—at the end of September, 1888, our premises were levied, they belonged to Mr. Turtle, who went bankrupt—an execution was put in, and they cleared us out at once, and took all our papers; I cannot even produce a receipt—they took everything out of my desk; the execution was for a quarter's rent, they said that if that was paid we could have our papers—they took the cheque-book among other things—I know a builder named Nicholls, but his name is not spelt the same as on the cheque.
NOT GUILTY .
There was an indictment on the same facts for false pretences, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24TH.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Vol. cxii. Page. Sentence.