CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SIXTH SESSION, HELD APRIL 6TH, 1891.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
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ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
Held on Monday, April 6th, 1891, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JOSEPH SAVORY, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir JOHN COMPTON LAWRANCE , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JAS. CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart.; Sir ROBERT NICHOLAS FOWLER , Bart., M. P., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; EDWARD JAMES GRAY , Esq., DAVID EVANS , Esq., PHINEAS COWAN , Esq., STUART KNILL , Esq, GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., EDWARD HART , 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
SAVORY, MAYOR. SIXTH 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, April 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(For cases tried in this Court this day, see Surrey Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. A. GILL Defended.
NELLY BUXTON . I am manageress to Charles Sergeant, a draper, of 18 and 150, Upper Street, Islington—on 16th February I was at 18, Upper Street, and served the prisoner with some lace; she gave me a florin—I took it to the desk, and Miss Whitehead, the cashier, clipped a piece off it with a pair of scissors—it was also tried in the tester, and would not go through; she handed it back to the prisoner, who paid with a good half-crown, and received the change—on March 2nd I was at No. 150 shop, and the prisoner came in; I remembered her; she bought two handkerchiefs, price threepence halfpenny; she took a florin from her puree and gave to me; I took it to Miss Leech, the cashier, who tried it in the tester, and it would not go through; she told the prisoner so; she said nothing, but handed me a good coin—the change was given to her, and the bad coin was handed back—this is it (produced)—I have no doubt she is the person who came on 16th February—I gave her in custody.
Cross-examined. Coins are always tried in the tester—we do not as a rule give persons in custody the first time they pass bad. coin—the two shops are in the same street, and the same name is up; they are ten
minutes' walk apart—when I said that it was bad on March 2nd, she said, "Is it? All right, here is a good one."
LINNA WHITEHEAD . I am cashier to Mr. Sergeant, at 18, Upper Street, Islington—on February 16th Miss Buxton brought me this florin; I nicked it with the scissors, but did not cut a piece off; it appeared soft—I said to the prisoner, "This is not good; have you any other?"—she said nothing, but gave me a half-crown; I gave her the change, and she left.
JULIA LEECH . I am cashier and manageress at Mr. Sergeant's shop, 150, Upper Street—on 2nd March Miss Buxton brought me this florin; I tried it in the tester, and it would not pass—I marked it and called the prisoner to the desk, and said, "This won't pass through the tester; have you another?"—she said, "Yes," and took a good one from her purse and gave it to me—I gave her one shilling, a sixpence, and twopence halfpenny—she was detained and given in custody.
Cross-examined. When Miss Buxton brought me the coin she said privately that it was the same woman.
ABRAHAM THURGAR (N 454). On 2nd March, about nine p.m., I was called to 150, Upper Street, and found the prisoner there—Miss, Leech said, "This woman has tried to pass a bad two-shilling-piece," and showed me a coin—I said, "I shall take you to the station"—she said, "Very well; a man gave it to me this afternoon"—she laid down this coin (produced) on the counter—she was charged at the station, and said nothing—she handed me a crown, a shilling, a sixpence, and some coppers.
Cross-examined. That was when she was in the dock, before she was searched—she has been remanded for five weeks to-morrow—detectives have seen her, and as far as I know this is the first charge that has been made against her—she earns her living on the streets.
Re examined. Before she handed me the money it was said in her presence that the female searcher must be sent for.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this coin is counterfeit—a coin which is soft under the scissors is bad, but it must be more than an ordinary pair of scissors to cut through a good coin.
Cross-examined. A bad coin would not pass through this tester if it is true—you can cut a counterfeit coin with scissors; if it is soft it is bad; a good coin is not soft.
NOT GUILTY .
324. ARTHUR EDWARD KEMMENOE (26) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, while employed under the Post Office, a post letter containing a postal order for 4s. 6d.; also a post letter containing a postal order for 7s. 6d.; also a letter containing thirty-six postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
326. JAMES WEBSTER (67) , To stealing cloth of Fasher Venables, his master, and to a previousconviction at this Court in May, 1889.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
327. SAMUEL PARKER (48) , To making false entries in the books of Messrs. Waterlow, his masters; also to embezzling sums amounting to £1,400, of his said masters.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
328. MATTHEW SELLICK (26) , To several indictments for feloniously forging and uttering endorsements to orders for payment of money; also to obtaining money by false pretences from different persons.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And
MR. SAUNDERS Prosecuted.
EMMA EXTON . I am head parlour-maid to Miss Robson, of 60, Cornwall Gardens, Kensington—on Monday night, 2nd March, I and the cook went to bed at half-past ten—I was the last person up—before going to bed I saw that everything was secure—at eight next morning on going downstairs I found the cellar-door and pantry-door open—a window in the housekeeper's room, which is a back room on the basement, was also open, sufficient to allow a person to get through—the w. c. door had been forced open; I had bolted that door before I went to bed—I missed a quantity of silver, a teapot, a kettle, spoons, and forks, to the value of at least £40; also twenty-two shillings of my own from the pantry—the silver had been in the cellar.
JOHN SMITH (Inspector F). On the evening of 3rd March I went to Craven Passage, Charing Cross, and saw the prisoner leaving the Northumberland Arms—I told him I was a police-officer, and I should arrest him on a charge of committing a burglary on the night of the 2nd at 60, Cornwall Gardens—he said, "Yes, I know all about it"—a little later on his brother-in-law, named Cook, was with him, and I said to him, "I shall require you as a witness in this case"—the prisoner said, "No, don't do that, he is as innocent as my umbrella; I was in with it with two others, and I will stand to it, and I have come up here to receive my corner out of it; I was to meet the other two at eight o'clock at Charing Cross"—on the way to the station he said, "I suppose I shall get twelve months for this. "
ALFRED BROWN (Sergeant F). Shortly after eight on the morning of 3rd March I went to 60, Cornwall Gardens—I found that an entrance had been effected through the w. c. window in the basement at the hack of the house, and the door of the w. c. had been forced leading to the inside passage; the pantry window was wide open, two large panes of glass were broken, and several drawers and cupboards had been ransacked—I went out on to the flats at the back of the house and saw marks apparently as if somebody had climbed up the side of the wall to the top of the stables—I got on to the top of the stables, and while up there I saw a coil of rope from the top of 61 next door; I then traced footmarks along the top of the stables to 37, Emperor's Gate—it was possible for a person to get from Emperor's Gate to the stable through a side window winch almost touched the top of the stables—I could see by
marks that someone had gone that way—37 was an empty house, of which Cook was caretaker—at Bow Street, when the prisoner was charged, he said, "Yes, I am one of the three; I let the others in after the Cooks had gone to bed; we got out of the window and went along the flats; they went down with a rope and done the job; they came back again and went out through the window, and I let them out about four in the morning; they promised to meet me to give me my corner at eight o'clock at Charing Cross next morning"—I showed the prisoner this rope; he said, "Yes, that is what we done the job with"—I went to Charing Cross that night—we have not succeeded in tracing anyone else.
FRANCES AGNES COOK . I am the wife of Samuel Cook—we were in charge of 37, Emperor's Gate—the prisoner married a sister of mine—he had been living with us for about a week—on 2nd March he came in that night about half-past ten—he went out about a quarter to eleven—I did not see him again that night—the key of the front door was on the mantelpiece—I went to bed about a quarter to eleven—next morning I found everything as I had left it.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magintrate: "I never went near the house; the other two went to the house, I sat on the wall outside; they went into the house and brought out a small portmanteau and placed it on the wall; they said to me, 'Wait a minute, I have left something down the area, I must go after it. 'A few minutes afterwards I heard a man call thieves out of a Window, and the men came clambering up to come through the window, and I let them out of the house again; they told me to come at eight that night, and they would give me my share of the proceeds. I made their acquaintance in prison. One of them touched me on the shoulder one evening, and asked me where I was going, and said he could put a few pounds in my pocket if I could let them pass through the house up there; he knew a house or twp there that he wanted to turn over, and I might put £50 in my pocket; they sent me a letter that morning when I went out with my beer; I met them; they came back, and I let them through the house."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction or several other convictions, upon one of which he was sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude. There was also another indictment against him for another burglary on the same night as the one in question.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted.
ARTHUR THOMAS . I am a bricklayer's labourer, of 13, St. Helen's Place, Clerkenwell—on Saturday night, 7th March, between seven and nine, I was in the Victoria public house in York Road, Islington, with a friend—the prisoner and another man came into the house; they got into conversation with me, and I treated them, and gave them twopence each; three more came in, and I gave them the same—the prisoner then proposed to go to another public-house, the Railway Tavern, in Caledonian Street—we had some drink there, and we then left; I said I was going home—as we went along the prisoner said to his mate, "Shall we see what he has got?"—no sooner was that said than I found myself on my back—I could not shout because one of them had his hand across my
throat—I could not get up—the prisoner said to his mate, "Have you got all?"—he said, "I think so"; I then got up, and shouted "Police!"—the prisoner put his hand to my left side pocket; there was no pocket there; I had the money in my right side pocket in a purse; his mate put his hand in that, and took out 9s.—when I shouted, "Police" they all started running across the road—a policeman came up; I told him what was up, and he and I followed them—we found the prisoner outside the second public-house, and I gave him in charge there and then.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. My friend went away before we left house—I did not at first charge you with robbing me in the Kingsland Road—I charged you with robbing me near King's Cross Station—I did not know the name of the street—I would not have locked you up if I could have caught hold of you.
WILLIAM RICE (G 273). On Saturday night, 7th March, about nine, the prosecutor came to me in Albion Street, and made a complaint—I went with him, and found the prisoner outside the Talbot public-house in Caledonian Road, about 200 yards from where the prosecutor spoke to me—he at once said, "This is the man," and gave him into custody—the prisoner said, "You are mistaken"—he was very flushed, as if he had been running; in fact, he was out of breath from running so sharp—I found 2d. in bronze on him—the prosecutor had been slightly drinking, but he knew perfectly well what he was about.
Cross-examined. I saw your back when you were running—I could not identify you—the prosecutor did not at first charge you with robbing him in Kingsland Road; he said King's Gross.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to having been previously convicted. Other convictions were proved against him.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GREENWOOD Prosecuted; and MR. BURNIE Defended McDonald.
WILLIAM COLLINS (X 506). On Sunday afternoon, 15th February, about a quarter-past four, in consequence of information, I went to Scrub Lane, Hammersmith—I there apprehended John Walsh, who is not now in custody, for being a principal in a prize-fight—Hamilton and Ricketts, two constables, were with me—I apprehended John Walsh, and had him in my charge—there were a number of men there, about forty or fifty I should say—the prisoner Walsh tried to take his brother away from me; he kicked me on the left leg, and struck me on the back of the head with his fist—Hamilton then went and took the prisoner Walsh into custody—he struggled with him, and finally got away from him; he struck him in the face, and then caught hold of him at the back, and said to Leonard, "Go through him, Mike," meaning search his pockets—Leonard then placed his hands in Hamilton's pockets, and drew a purse from his left-hand pocket, and threw it among his companions—Hamilton was in uniform—McDonald was punching Hamilton in the face and about the head at this time—then Richard Walsh let go of him, stepped on one side, and struck him a severe blow in the face, and Hamilton then fell to the ground—I then dragged my prisoner, John Walsh, up to Hamilton and drew my truncheon—the prisoners on seeing me decamped—Hamilton got up and went after the prisoner—at a quarter to twelve the same night
Richard Walsh was handed to me by another sergeant, and I identified him.
Cross-examined by Leonard. I saw you strike the constable; you were standing in front of him—it was between the canal bridge and the railway bridge.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. At the time this happened to Hamilton I was trying to detain John Walsh—altogether there were 100 people there on more—there was a good deal of pushing and shoving—I was about ten yards from Hamilton—there were people between us, not a crowd—McDonald was punching Hamilton the whole time, even after Walsh got free from him—Joseph Walsh was charged before the Magistrate with taking part in the fight; he was in custody three weeks, and then discharged—I knew all the men before.
ALFRED HAMILTON (X 287). On Sunday afternoon, 15th February, between three and four, I was in Scrub Lane—I had Joseph Walsh in custody for fighting in a prize-fight—I did not see them fighting—I saw them on a piece of land belonging to the Great Western Railway—Joseph Walsh and McDonald were stripped—I apprehended Joseph Walsh by the direction of Collins—Richard Walsh then shouted to the crowd, "Let us throw them in the cut," meaning the canal—he kicked Collins in the legs—he then struck me on the back of my head with his fist—he then caught hold of his brother and tried to pull him out of Collins' custody—I then took him into custody for attempting to rescue and for assault—he and Leonard then attacked me violently with their fists, about the head and face—Richard Walsh caught me by the left leg, and endeavoured to throw me over the railway bridge; I managed to overpower him, and we fell on the ground together—I regained my feet—Walsh caught me under the arms and said to Leonard, "Go through him"—at that time Leonard put both his hands into my trousers pockets, and in my left pocket was my purse containing £1 4s. 6d. and some halfpenny stamps; he took that—I asked him, to give it me back, but he did not—while Richard Walsh had me, and Leonard was robbing me, McDonald beat me most brutally about the head and face with his fists over the right eye, and on the right jaw—I fell to the ground, and they ran away—Constable Buck then arrived, and we pursued them for about a mile and a half—with the assistance of another constable they were taken into custody, and taken to the station—I felt very weak and in great pain, and went to the hospital for five weeks, and am still an out-patient; my jaw was fractured, and I have not eaten any solid food since.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. Walsh's brother was very violent; there was a large crowd; I should say about a hundred—McDonald was attacking me while my money was being taken—I have known all the prisoners for the last twelve months.
GEORGE HENRY PRICE . I am a hammerman, and live at 2, Brand Street, Notting Hill—on Sunday afternoon, 15th February, I was in Scrub Lane, on the canal bridge; I saw a crowd there along the towing path—I went to see what was the matter—I saw Constable Collins taking Walsh into custody; he was taken down the road as far as the bridge—Hamilton went back to fetch the other Walsh, when the prisoner Walsh struck at him—he began knocking the constable about, and Leonard started knocking him about, and both of them began for two or three minutes
rolling him in the gutter, and paying him about the face and head—McDonald got between them and struck Hamilton in the face with his fist and knocked him into the gutter—Collins came up to assist him, and the prisoners then made off.
Cross-examined by Walsh. I was called at the Police Court, but was not examined till the third day.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I only saw McDonald strike Hamilton once, that was when he was standing up.
EDWIN OWEN KINGDON . I am house-surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—on the afternoon of 15th of January Hamilton was brought there suffering from a fracture of the right side of his jaw in two places; he was bleeding from the right ear, mouth, and both nostrils, and he had recent bruises on the right side of his face and head—he is still under my charge, and will be for some time—he was suffering very much from shock.
Cross-examined by Leonard. It is not extraordinary that he could ran a mile and a half with a fractured jaw; under the excitement he could speak at first, but afterwards for weeks he could not, as his fractured jaw was wired—he has not taken solid food since.
WILLIAM THRUSSELL (Sergeant X 42). I arrested the prisoner Walsh, and told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it, I had just come from my sister's; I was not there; I had never seen the constable before. "
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I cannot say whether he said before the Magistrate, "All right, I am innocent"—he might have said so.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Walsh and Leonard each said, "I have nothing to say." McDonald said, "On the Sunday I was taken into custody I and John Walsh were going to fight over a row on the Saturday previous. We entered a piece of waste ground, and the police came and interrupted us. I put on my clothes and walked away. The police followed and arrested us; they mistook me for another man."
JOSEPH MCDONALD . I am the prisoner's brother—I was not going to take any part in this fight—it was Walsh and my brother—they stripped and fought—there was an alarm of police, and they dressed and went away—the police came up and caught hold of me, and took me night away—I was taken before the Magistrate, and was discharged.
Cross-examined. I saw no violence—my brother was taken away before that.
Walsh's Defence. I was never nigh them all this day. I came out at half-past nine and went to my sister's; and on coming back I was arrested.
Leonard's Defence. I did see the fight. I had just come out of prison; and I ran away, or they would have locked me up. I saw nothing of this affair. GUILTY .
WALSH and LEONARD— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. McDONALD— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SIMONS Prosecuted.
DAVID WILSON (G 306). On 3rd March, about a quarter to twelve at night, I was on duty in Wilson Street, Finsbury—I saw the prisoner, with several others, running—I attempted to arrest the prisoner; he and others threw me down, and ran away; I went after him; I arrested him a second time—the prosecutor came up and said, "That is the man that knelt on me, and pulled me down by the throat, while the others robbed me"—the prisoner said he had nothing to do with it—on the way to the station the prosecutor said he had robbed him of 7s. 6d.—the prisoner said, "I picked the gentleman's hat up, but I had nothing to do with the robbing"—he was charged at the station, and said he was innocent.
FREDERICK JOHN MONRO . I am a Wesleyan minister, living in John Wesley's Home, 47, City Road—on the night of 3rd March, about a quarter to twelve, I had been to the post, and on my return I saw a gentleman walking on the other side of the road, and suddenly saw seven or eight men leap out of the shadow of a building and knock him down on the pavement; I ran over and saw two or three of them tugging at, his pocket, and another pulling his vest open—I said, "The man has fainted; get him some water"—they took no notice; I said, "Go and get him some brandy, I will pay for it; the man is dying"—the prisoner immediately got off the gentleman, came to me and put his arm on my shoulder, and said, "Stand away from him, sir; he will be all right directly"—they still continued grappling with his throat, and then I noticed one man rifling his pockets—I said, "You cowardly rascals, you are robbing the man!"—they then jumped up, the man who was rifling his pockets shouted, "All right, I have got it," and then they all started off down Castle Street—I spoke to a policeman, and followed them, and saw the prisoner caught; I never lost sight of him for a moment.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There were seven or eight of you on the man; you were covering them—when you were caught you did not resist; you saw it was no good—I am not sure which of you robbed the man, but I saw you assaulting him with the others.
The prosecutor did not appear. NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEMAITRE Prosecuted.
ABRAHAM ISAAC FREEDMAN . I live at Hanbury Street, Church Street, Spitalfields, and am a regimental tailor—about eleven p.m. on 14th March I was in Steward Street, walking towards Brushfield Street, when the prisoner, who stood at the corner, rushed towards me quickly and butted me in the stomach with his head, and threw me to the wall; he pulled me down and laid upon my chest and stopped my voice from calling—he took my chain—he ran away—I saw him again at the station, and identified him on 23rd March from among a number of men—when I saw him standing at the corner I had ample time to identify him—I have no doubt about him; I could identify him from among 3,000—I nm still under the doctor's charge; I was severely injured.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am positive you are the man. FRANK AYDEN (H 371). At four o'clock on 23rd March I arrested the
prisoner, and told him the charge—he said, "I think you have made a mistake this time"—he was placed among eight or ten men, and the prosecutor identified him at once—he made no reply to the charge when he was charged.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor did not say at the station that you were the man to the best of his belief—he said, "If he is not the man, my name is not Freedman"; he was certain you were the man as soon as lie saw your face; he was not three minutes identifying you.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he knew nothing of the matter.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, April 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
CHARLES HERD . I am assistant to Mr. Daniels, a draper, of 209, Gray's Inn Road—on 10th March, a little before ten o'clock, the prisoners came in, and one of them asked for something which came to 1s. 0 1/4 d., and gave me a florin and a farthing—I gave her one shilling change, and passed the florin through a hole in the desk—the prisoners left, and about one o'clock the police came; this bad florin was found in the till, and two good ones.
Cross-examined. The shop opens at 8.30—there are other assistants, hut only one cashier, a smart boy of fourteen—I did not notice that the florin given to me was bad, nor did he—the customers take a bill for everything over sixpence, and they can tear it up if they like—there was no reason for the prisoners to keep the bill to connect them with this.
HENRY COOK . I am barman at the Mechanics' Larder, Gray's Inn Road—on 16th March, about 11 a.m., the prisoners came in together, and Cue called for two twos of whisky hot, and tendered this shilling; 1 put it to my teeth, and Cue asked me if it was bad—I said "Yes," and Broke it in two in the tester—the landlord spoke to them, and one of them said she got it from a draper's—Cue paid with four penny pieces—they left, and the landlord followed them.
Cross-examined. There is a public and a private bar and a jug and bottle department—they came into the jug and bottle department; there was no one else there—after the shilling had been broken they stopped at the counter and finished their drink. "
JAMES TINDAL . I keep the Mechanics' Larder, Gray's Inn Road—Cook called me—I saw the shilling passed to him; he took it to the tester, broke it, and said that it was bad—the prisoners both said, "We have just got it from the draper's"—I said, "What draper's?"—they said. "Some drapers towards Holborn"—they paid for the drink with other coin, and left; I followed them to 9, Cromer Street, which is a dairy; they both went in—I remained till they came out, and followed them—I do not
think they saw me—I made a communication to Miss Hardwick, who went to the till and brought me this counterfeit shilling and a Jubilee shilling—I followed the prisoners, met two constables, and gave them in charge.
Cross-examined. They appeared astonished when they were told the shilling was bad, but I do not think it was genuine—I had never seen them before—they asked me to return the coin, but I declined.
FLORENCE HARDWICK . I am manageress at a dairy, 9, Cromer Street, near Gray's Inn Road—on 10th March, a little after nine o'clock, the two prisoners came in, and Cue, I think, asked for one or two eggs, I am not sure which, two sponge-cakes, and one pennyworth of milk, for which she brought a jug—she paid with a shilling—I put it in the till in a compartment where there were half-crowns, shillings, sixpences, and one Jubilee shilling—I gave her the change, and they left a little while afterwards—Mr. Tindal then came in and made a communication to me—I handed him the shilling from the till which I had taken from Cue—the only other shilling there was a Jubilee one—the police came, and I went to the station.
Cross-examined. After they got change for the bad shilling they waited long enough for me to discover it.
ALBERT BALL (G 383). On 10th March, about 11.25 a.m., Mr. Tindal gave the two prisoners into my custody in Gray's Inn Road, for passing a bad shilling—Cue hesitated a second or two, and then said, "Yes; I recollect"—Edwards said nothing—I took them to the station—when Miss Hardwick charged them they made no answer—Cue handed me three shillings, a sixpence, and threepence halfpenny in a purse, and a sixpence and a penny from her pocket, all good—I also found this draper's bill—they both gave correct addresses.
Cross-examined. What Cue said was, "I recollect being in there, and passing it"—I understood "passing it" and passing bad money to be the same—she had a bag with the calico in it, and a piece of meat, an egg two sponge-cakes, and a jug containing some milk—the female searcher searched them, but gave me nothing—I took them sixty or seventy yards from where they passed the coin, and they could see me coming if they looked.
Cross-examined. She was carrying a basket containing potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery—she gave me a correct address—as far as I know she is a respectable woman—she was standing outside a greengrocer's shop—I have had no complaint from the green-grocer—the female searcher searched Edwards, but gave me no money—when I turned the corner with Mr. Tindal the prisoners were standing still outside the greengrocer's shop.
The prisoners received good characters, and it was stated that they were sisters.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, April 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
LOUISA BURNS . I am the prisoners wife—I was living with him at 44, Horseferry Road, Westminster, down to the 28th February—he used to work for a scaffolder, but he has done no work since a fortnight before Christmas—in consequence of the frost there was no work for him to do—about Christmas time his manner became very strange; he was very despondent; he seemed dazed, and would suddenly become very violent without any reason; he would run out of the house half-dressed, thinking somebody was pursuing him; he several times alluded to being under the influence of mesmerism—on 3rd February, when my daughter came to the house, he had a knife in his hand and attempted to cut her throat—he cut her hand, but did not succeed in cutting her throat—she goes to her work about five in the morning, and generally calls to see me on her way—after that I made a complaint to the parish authorities, and he was seen by the relieving officer and Dr. Cope, who gave a certificate, under which he was taken to the lunatic ward in Fulham Workhouse—he remained there till the 15th February, when I went and fetched him out—I was very anxious to have him back—he was no better after he came home, but a great deal worse, and up to the 27th his conduct continued just the same—I thought I had put all his tools away in the cellar—on Saturday, the 28th, my daughter came as usual about half-past four; she stayed with me a little while—I and my husband were in bed—she went away to her work a little before five; I let her out—after that I remember nothing else till I was in the Westminster Hospital—I was attended there by Dr. James; I have remained there till now; I was very ill for a considerable time, and in great danger from a wound over the right temple and behind the right ear—I got better by degrees, and was able to attend before the Magistrate and give evidence on the 2nd April—I am going on well now—this hammer and this chisel (produced) are my husband's tools, his name is on them—on 3rd February, when he was taken to the workhouse, the certificate was that he was suffering from delirium tremens; that was what the doctor said it was—he had not been drinking at all since Christmas, and nothing much before that—for the fortnight that he was out of work he did not have any—when he was in work he drank a little, but not excessively.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not drinking for three weeks after you knocked off work on the Friday in Christmas week—you did not do any work after the frost.
ELLEN BURNS . I am the prisoner's daughter—I have been in the habit of going to my parents before going to my work in Horseferry Road—my father's manner has been very strange this year—on 3rd February he attempted to cut my throat with a knife, but did not succeed; he cut my hand—about eight o'clock in the morning on 28th February he came to me and said, "Good-bye, I have killed your mother," and then he went away—I went to No. 44, and with Mrs. Deacon went into mother's room; I found her on the bed covered with
blood, unconscious, and undressed, not lying on the side of the bed where I had left her—I got assistance, and she was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. You have always behaved well and with kindness to me when in your sober senses—you never insulted me.
CLARA DEACON . I live at 44, Horseferry Road, under the prisoner and his wife—I have known him for some time—since Christmas I have noticed that he has been very strange in his manner—I have seen him run downstairs undressed and run over to a cab—he was altogether different to himself—on the morning of 28th February he came and knocked three times at my door about a quarter to eight; the third time he said, "Get up, I have killed my wife"—I went up and found Mrs. Burns lying injured on the bed; I gave her assistance, and she was taken to the hospital.
THOMAS AYLETT (Sergeant A 31). On Saturday morning, 28th February, about 8 10, I was in charge of Rochester Row Station—the prisoner came in and said, "I wish to give myself up for striking my wife on the head with a hammer, while she was lying in bed at 44 this morning; you will find the hammer; it is the fault of her mother"—I read that over to him, and he signed it—I saw blood on his waistcoat and shirt, and on his hands—I sent someone on to 44—on 7th March, on the remand, he called me to his cell and said, "That is not the hammer I had; I had a chisel; I put it in the cellar under the stairs"—I searched the cellar, and found this chisel on a ledge over the door.
Prisoner. I believe I made that statement when I first went in, but I don't know, in fact I did not know what I was doing when I gave myself up. I would not hurt my wife; she has always been a good wife to me—when in my sober senses I would not hurt a hair of her head; I don't remember doing it.
FREDERICK BEESON (A 552). I was sent to Horseferry Road, about twenty minutes past eight in the morning of 28th February; I there found Mrs. Burns lying insensible on the bed in a pool of blood; she had two wounds, one on the right side of the right temple, and the other behind the right ear, and under the bed I found this hammer.
ALBERT ERNEST COPE , M. D. I live at the Westminster Dispensary, Rochester Row—I saw the prisoner on the night of 1st February, and again on the morning of the second; twice that day—I thought he was suffering from delirium tremens in such a form as to require restraint—I gave a certificate to that effect, and he was taken to Fulham Workhouse.
HENRY WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am medical superintendent of St. George's Infirmary, and medical officer of St. George's Workhouse—on 3rd February the prisoner was admitted to the workhouse, and placed in the lunacy ward, under a certificate that he was suffering from delirium tremens—he remained under my constant supervision between the 3rd and 7th February—I saw no sign of delirium tremens in that time—I did see indications of insanity—I thought he was suffering from the effects of insanity, and I reported it to the relieving officer—he improved some-what between the 7th and 9th—he was seen by a Justice, who did not think he could order him to an asylum, so he ordered his detention—he showed no sign of insanity between that time and the 16th, and he was discharged in care of his wife—I think his condition was such that he would be subject to attacks of insanity at times.
Cross-examined. You asked me several times to allow you to go and look for work, but I detained you till the following Monday—I then allowed you to go out.
THOMAS GREET (Inspector A). I saw the prisoner on 28th February, and charged him with the attempted murder of his wife—he said, "I don't believe I have struck my wife now; I believe I have been mesmerised; in fact, I know I have; that is between God and man; I was mesmerised yesterday with sixpence on the mantelpiece and bits of elastic and old rags"—he was detained in custody.
GEORGE BROOKBANK JAMES . I am house surgeon at Westminster Hospital—I had Mrs. Burns under my care from the morning of 15th February, and she has been down to the present time—when admitted she was suffering from concussion of the brain, with considerable irritation; she had two wounds, one a lacerated one of a circular shape above the right temple, and another one, an incised wound behind the right ear, and a fracture of the skull—she was unconscious, and remained so for a whole week; she was in very great danger for a considerable time; that has passed away; the circular wound was such as would be. produced by this hammer, and the wound behind the ear might have been inflicted with this chisel.
Cross-examined. The wound by the hammer was not a direct one, it had glanced off; there is the scar.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am Medical Officer of Holloway Gaol—from 28th February I have had the prisoner under my constant supervision, and have given particular attention to his case—I formed a conclusion as to the state of his mind; I thought he was insane when I first saw him—I have seen him very frequently since, almost daily; my opinion is that he is insane at the present time, and was so on 28th February—I have listened to the evidence, and my opinion is strengthened by the facts I have heard stated—he now perfectly understands what is going on.
Prisoner. Yes, I should think I did; I know my life is being sworn away, or next door to it. Have I not behaved myself and done whatever I have been told? Witness: You have; I had no occasion to put a straight jacket on you; you suffered from the delusion of persecution, that you had stuff put in your eyes and. nose, and you spoke of mesmerism.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. "For several days I had occasion to notice that my wife did not seem to be my wife at all. I had every reason, indeed I had sufficient proof, that my wife weighed twelve stone at the Crystal Palace twelve months: ago; in fact, her breast is as flat as mine, and the way she went about her household work gave me sufficient proof. She swept the soot from the hobs on to the carpet. I said it was a dirty way of doing it; why did she not sweep it into the fender. She went to work in a different way to what my wife used to do."
Prisoners Defence. All I have to say is I leave myself entirely to the mercy of the Court. The doctor says I am insane. I say I leave myself Purely to the mercy of the Court.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. To be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
337. GEORGE BURTON SPENCER and FRANK GANTEOS (20) , Feloniously attempting to extort money from Gerard Frenddenshall by threatening to accuse him of an abominable crime. Second Count, for demanding money with menaces.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
SPENCER GUILTY— Five Years' Penal Servitude. GANTEOS GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by the JURY considering him to be an instrument in the hands of Spencer , — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, April 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
339. ARTHUR COLLIS (28) , to receiving 126 spoons, also 126 forks, of Hudson Ewbank Kearley, and another, his masters, knowing them to have been stolen.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
340. FREDERICK GOODE (20) , to stealing 177 spoons, also 681 forks, and other goods, of Hudson Ewbank Kearley, and another, his masters.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
341. EDWARD POWELL (19) , to stealing six glass swans and other goods, the property of Hudson Ewbank Kearley, and another, his masters. He received a good character.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And
MR. E. BEARD Prosecuted.
HERBERT EDWARD WRIGHT . I am a pawnbroker, of 29, Jamaica Street, Stepney, and live on the premises—on Saturday, 26th March, I went to bed, leaving the place safely locked up—I was disturbed about 2.30 by my dog barking; I got up, and heard someone moving about—I dressed myself, armed myself with a stick, lit a lamp, and went down into the shop, and saw the two prisoners behind the counter—they had got along drawer open which was full of jewellery, which they were putting into their pockets—I said, "Halloa, there are two of you," and struck Hicks twice—my stick broke, and I let the dog loose, who bit them both—when my stick broke my lamp went out—I went to the door and called "Police!"—a policeman came, and the dog bit him very badly—I found bracelets and earrings value £7 in the back room—there were marks of a jemmy on the back door—the prisoners were perfectly sober—the dog is a mastiff, he is very ferocious and very faithful.
GRIFFITH EVANS (H 78). I was called to Mr. Wright's shop; he said, "Here is one"—I seized Hicks by the throat, and the dog rushed at me and bit my arm—I took both prisoners in custody—they were searched at the station—I saw a screwdriver hanging out of Hicks' pocket, which I afterwards saw under his feet—they were quite sober—my arm still pains me.
when the prisoners were brought in—I searched Hicks, and found a silver set, earrings and brooch complete, in the lining of his coat, and a brooch containing hair; they have been identified—nothing was found on Mildall—I went to the house and found the back door had been forced by some instrument, and on a safe behind the shop I found this jemmy, corresponding to the marks on the door—it does not belong to the prosecutor, but he identified a pickaxe, which was brought from the garden—the prisoners were both sober.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Hicks says: "I was drunk when it was done." Mildall says: "I had been drinking heavily."
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions—Hicks on March 11th, 1887, at the Thames Police-court; and Mildall on 13th September, 1886, at Clerkenwell, in the name of Charles Jones.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
MARY ANN COKELY . I live with my mother at 1, Elliott Court, Old Gravel Lane—we occupy one room, the front parlour ground floor—on 30th March we went to bed, but got up and had supper, and went to bed again about 12.20—we occupied the same bed—I went to sleep—I was awoke by the window smashing, and saw the prisoner outride—we had a lamp on the mantelpiece, and there was one outside—there was a curtain to the window—after the prisoner did that he burst through the parlour door, and came in and struck me as I laid in bed on my right temple—I saw something bright in his hand—he struck me more than once, and dragged me out of bed and kicked me on the floor several times—he dragged me round the room bleeding, and I was covered with bruises—he said, "You b—cow! I mean to kill you and your mother"—I have known him for eight weeks; he had threatened a fortnight before to take my life before he had done with me—he went out of the room, and ran down the court; I went for a policeman, and he followed me and beat me unmercifully, and kicked me—I ran to the station and complained, and Dr. Serjeant attended to my wounds—I have been in danger of my life.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have known you eight weeks; I have not followed you—I did not swear that I would cause a disturbance between you and your intended—336 A did not threaten to look me up that night—you did not speak to me about your intended—I have got a young baby, and I cannot go to work—I have done Several little terms of imprisonment; the longest term was eight months; it was not for stabbing—when you came down the lane I caught you by the throat and said you were a murderer; you stabbed a man in the throat—he survived the wound nine years—on the next day I went to your house with a hammer in my hand—I did not slap your intended's face.
MARY KEEFE . I am the mother of the last witness—she lives with me in Elliott Court, Old Gravel Lane, and occupies the same bed—on March 30th we were awakened by the outside shutters being opened, and a few panes of glass breaking—I saw the prisoner, and got out of bed and went to the street door, which was not closed, because there are lodgers—I am the deputy of the house—the prisoner came in, dragged
my daughter out of bed by her hair, and kicked her on her side four or five times and ran out, and she got a policeman—I followed him in my petticoat and chemise, and a more cruel kicking I never saw—he said, "I will kill you, you b—old thing!"—he said he wanted to kill her and her baby too.
HENRY GREEN (Thames Police Inspector), On 31st March, about 1.30 a.m., the prosecutrix came to the station, drunk, and injured on the temple—she made a complaint to the inspector on duty, and Dr. Serjeant was sent for—I went to 1, Upper Well Alley, and found the prisoner in bed asleep—I asked him if his name was Cornelius Hogan—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Did you assault Mary Ann Cokely?"—he said, "No"—I said, "She says you did, you are wanted at Wapping Police-station"—he went with me at once—he was perfectly sober—I found on him a purse and a small pocket-knife with the blade broken—I then went to Mrs. Cokely's lodging, and found the parlour window smashed in and the floor saturated with blood—I did not see any blood on the bed.
HENRY EDWIN SERJEANT , M. D. I live at 203, High Street, Shadwell—early on the morning of 31st March I was called to the station, and saw Cokely—she had a clear incised wound about an inch long above her right eyebrow—it could have been done with this knife, but I think it was done with a knife with a wider blade—she was not quite sober.
Cross-examined. The wound might have been done by glass; glass will make as clean cuts as a knife.
Re-examined. The wound was down to the bone, but there is no covering to the bone there, except the simple skin—if a person fell upon glass you might find some of it in the wound, or you might not.
Witnesses for the Defence.
SARAH SMITH (Examined by the RECORDER). I live next door to Mrs. Keefe—on 31st March, about 12.30, I was looking out at the front window first floor, waiting for my father—I heard Mrs. Hall, who lives over Mrs. Cokely, call out, "Oh, you wicked vagabond!" and Mrs. Storey came out with her head and hand bleeding—I did not see Mary Ann Cokely then, or Mrs. Keefe, but the prisoner came down the court, and Mary Cokely struck him—I did not hear the breaking of glass—Mary Cokely went up the court, and the prisoner began talking to the mother at her door, who struck him and made his hand bleed, and he came into our place and washed off the blood, and then went away, not the same way as Mary Ann Cokely—if anybody says he went up to her and knocked her down in the court and kicked her, that is not true—I saw her, but I swear she was not bleeding—if it is sworn that she was taken to the station and the wound was dressed, that is not true; the surgeon has spoken falsely, and the policeman also—I did not see him hit her.
PATRICK SWEENEY (Examined by the RECORDER). I live next door to the prisoner, and am a labourer—on 31st March, about 12.40 a.m., I was sitting by the fire reading a book, heard a noise, and saw Mrs. Storey run out of the passage, bleeding from her head and thumb; she was by my street door—I asked her who did it—she said, "That wicked curse, Mary Cokely"—Mary Cokely was in the passage of her own house Mrs. Storey went up the court, and Mary Cokely came back in ten minutes, with a policeman behind her—she had no wound that I saw—it
was dark, but there was a lamp outside—I had not been in bed; I heard the smashing of Mrs. Keefe's window; something was thrown through the window from the inside first; there were outside shutters, but they were open—I heard the smash of glass, and saw the prisoner walk out it the window.
By the Prisoner. Something came through the window, but I could not see what—I saw you bleeding; I did not see you go into the house—the policeman came to arrest Mary Cokely from 1.20 to 1.30—I did not hear her say that no policeman came to arrest her—you stood on the other side of the court, five yards off, and I do not think it would be possible to break the window from the outside; if you had I should have seen some excitement on your part—you were complaining, and you went to my house to wash your hands.
By the COURT. Mrs. Storey is not here; I sent my mother to her, but she is unable to come; she is afraid of these people—I did not see anyone smash the window; it was done from the inside.
Cross-examined. I have said that the prisoner might have smashed one or two panes, and he did as far as I could see—I took him into my place to wash his hands before he smashed the window.
CATHERINE COLLINS . I am single, and live at 42, Archer Road, St. George's—I was in Old Gravel Lane, and a person called me to give me a glass, and Mary Ann Cokely came up and struck me—she had been tantalising the prisoner, and I believe she was jealous of him—she asked me for two shillings outside the Police-court after his committal, and said she would swear it, and Catherine Lomas can prove it.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had been absent from England tight or nine years, and came home eight weeks ago to get married to Catherine Collins, and that the prosecutrix was jealous, and would not have either of them alone, and used to call him a murderer and a black bastard, and taught hold of him by his hair and tried to strangle him, till a constable made to let go; that she also struck Catherine Collins, and made her face a mass of blood and scratches, and said, "Now I will see whether you will get married," and on another occasion tore a lot of hair out of her head; that on the day in question he went to the house to speak to the prosecutrix, and the fire-irons were thrown through the window and struck him, and the prosecutrix rushed out, totting "Police!" and "Murder!" and he went home to bed; that the prosecutrix had frequently threatened to have his liberty taken from Kim, and that she Shaved so violently before the Magistrate that he threatened to lock her up in the cells.
MARY KEEFE (Re-examined). I stood by the side of my daughter and the baby when the prisoner broke the panes of glass—I said, "In the name of God, what are you coming here for?" and he bounced in and I saw blood on her forehead and on this night-dress (produced)—she had her boots on, but no stockings.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of the provocation. — To enter into recognisances to come up for judgment when called on.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, April 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ARTHUR BENJAMIN . I am potman at the Mechanics' Larder, Gray's Inn Road—at a quarter to three on 2nd March I was serving—the prisoner called for three-halfpenny worth of rum, I served him; he gave me a counterfeit shilling; I noticed it was counterfeit, and put it between my teeth; the prisoner said, "Oh, is it bad?"—I then broke it in half with my teeth, and gave the pieces back to him—he then gave me a sixpence, and I gave him fourpence halfpenny change in bronze—Mr. Tyndall was there at the time looking at me, and he saw the coin, and when the prisoner went out rather sharply, he put on his hat and coat and went after him.
Cross-examined. You also said, "Did I give you that?"—I will swear I broke it.
JAMES TYNDALL . I am landlord of the Mechanics' Larder—on the afternoon of 2nd March I saw the prisoner hand the coin to the last witness, who put it in his teeth and broke it, and put the pieces on the counter—the prisoner said, "Is it bad?" and took them up—I saw him pay sixpence for the drink—he received the change and left the house quietly—in the course of a minute or two I followed him—I met a sergeant and inspector, and told them what had occurred—the sergeant followed a little distance behind me—the prisoner stopped twice and looked round—he went into the Calthorpe Arms, about 200 or 300 yards away—I went into the next compartment and spoke to the manageress, Miss Hubert—she went to the till and showed me a number of shillings; among them I found a bad one—I went outside the public-house and saw the sergeant there, and spoke to him again—I went back into the Calthorpe Arms—Miss Hubert had left the house by another door to see me outside—the prisoner left the house as I went in—Miss Hubert made another communication to me and showed me another bad shilling—I saw the prisoner immediately after he left the house, about 100 yards off, walking—I followed, and the sergeant behind me—when the prisoner looked round and saw me following he ran—I stopped him in a shop about a quarter of a mile off—he said, "What is it for?"—on the way to the station he said, "Is it for counterfeits?"—I gave the two shillings which Miss Hubert handed to me to the sergeant.
Cross-examined. I was about a yard from Benjamin when he gave you the shilling back—when I followed you I was fifteen or twenty yards behind—I did not see what you paid with in the Calthorpe Arms; you had been served and got change—I did not know you had a cigar—I did not mark either shilling; I put them together.
CECILIA HUBERT . I am manageress at the Calthorpe Arms, Gray's Inn Road—about a quarter to three on 2nd March the prisoner came in and was served with something; then Tyndall came in and spoke to me—I went to the till and took some money up; among it I found this bad shilling—there were nothing but shillings there—I showed the coins to Tyndall, and handed this bad shilling to him—the prisoner was still in the bar, he called for a twopenny cigar, and gave me a counterfeit shilling—I saw it was bad when he placed it on the counter, before I took it up—
I spoke to my potman—the prisoner could see I was speaking to him, but he could not hear what I said—the potman was at the side of the bar and the prisoner was in front, and he walked quickly out of the bar when I turned to speak to the potman; I had not given him any change—I went to the door and saw the prisoner running hard up Wells Street; no one was after him—I next saw him in the police-station—I handed the two shillings to Mr. Tyndall; they are both here.
Cross-examined. I put no mark on the shillings; the first one was very dark and dirty; I picked it out directly I got to the police-station; the second was very light in colour.
Re-examined. I did not part with the shilling paid for the cigar till I handed it to Tyndall.
JAMES PROCKTER (Sergeant E 53). About a quarter to 3 p.m. on 2nd March I met Tyndall in the Gray's Inn Road; he made a communication to me—I saw the prisoner walking rather hurriedly in the direction of the Calthorpe Arms; I followed behind Tyndall—I saw Tyndall go in, and waited outside till he came out—I did not see the prisoner come out; I next saw him walking in Phoenix Street, 300 yards off; he turned his head and saw me running, and commenced to run—I was in uniform—Tyndall was in advance of me, running—I followed a little over a quarter of a mile; he wad stopped in a small shop in Mount Pleasant—he said, "What is this for?"—he repeated that two or three times—I was breathless and unable to answer, and before I had spoken at all he said, "What is this for—counterfeits?"—I then said, "Yes, that is it"—he said nothing—he was taken to the station and charged; he said, "I know nothing about it"—lie save an address at New Chambers, Lambeth Walk—I searched and found on him 6s. 6d. silver, a half-crown, a florin, a shilling, and two sixpences, thirteenpence bronze, all good money, loose in his trousers pocket.
Cross-examined. You spoke about counterfeits at the door of the shop—you said, "What is this for?" as we were bringing you out, and when you were brought out, you said, "Counterfeits?"
The prisoner stated in his defence that he did not not give a bad shilling to the barman, and that the barman did not break it, but only bent it; he asserted his innocence.
MR. WLLMOT Prosecuted; MR. A. WILLIS Defended Burke, and MR. PAUL TAYOR Defended Munro.
ARTHUR DURMAN . I am barman at the Clarence Tavern, 24, Charing dross—on the evening of 14th March, Smith and Munro came in together, Smith called for drinks and paid with a shilling; I gave him change—about half-an-hour afterwards Burke came in—he joined the other prisoners; he appeared to know them—about five minutes after
he came in he called for two pennyworth of gin cold and two halves of mild ale—he paid with a shilling—then they had tobacco and smokes; Burke paid with a shilling; I gave 8d. change—Smith called for half a quartern of gin in a bottle, and paid with a shilling, and I gave him 7 1/2 d. change—then Burke called for half-an-ounce of tobacco and paid with a shilling, and I gave him 10d. change—Burke called for drinks again, the same as before; he paid with a shilling, and I gave him 8d. change—then they had another smoke, which Burke paid for with a shilling—I gave him 10d. change—Burke afterwards put another shilling on the counter, about half-past eight, and was going to call for drinks, when I noticed the shilling looked rather blurred on the edge, and I took it up and spoke to the manager, and showed it to him—of the shillings they had given me I had put five on the top shelf and one on the second shelf—a constable was sent for while they remained at the bar.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. The Clarence is a large place and does a good business; there were not many people in at this time—the prisoners were in the compartment in front of the house facing the Admiralty; it holds about a dozen people along the bar—there are four other assistants—I cannot say what coins were on the rack at eight o'clock—it is not possible that any of the prisoners could have been served by another assistant, because they are not allowed to come to my end of the bar, and I am not allowed to go to theirs—I accepted six shillings without looking at them; it is my usual way.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Smith paid on two occasions, Burke on four occasions; Munro did not pay at all; I did not hear any of the conversation between the prisoners; I was busy attending to other customers during the greater part of the time; I do not know Munro by sight; I did not see him pass money to Smith; if he had done so I must have seen it when Smith paid, as they were all standing in front of me; I had not seen Smith or Burke in the house before; I have been there three months; I was not there when the money was found on the floor—the change I gave each time consisted of sixpence and odd pence; I gave no change to Munro.
WILLIAM AVENALL . I am manager at the Clarence Tavern, Charing Cross—on the evening of the 14th March Durman spoke to me, and showed me a bad shilling; I examined the shelves above the till, and found five bad shillings on the top and one on an underneath shelf—I sent for a constable unknown to the prisoners—the constable charged them; they said nothing—they were taken to the station—I followed with my porter—on the way, between Whitehall Gardens and Old Scotland Yard, I picked up a bad shilling, and I saw my porter pick up two bad shillings, which he gave to me—the three prisoners had passed over that spot about three yards in front of me—after they had been charged at the station I returned to the tavern—a private customer there handed me seven bad shillings—those, and the three I picked up, and the others were handed to Moore at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. I did not see any of the prisoners drop these in the street—I have five assistants; there are different tills for different bars—all assistants have access to this rack, but only one barman would use it—it would be out of the other barmen's way to go to it—if they had not sufficient change they might go there.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I picked the shilling up by the edge of the kerb where Burke was walking, so that apparently he dropped it. Cross-examined by Smith. I did not see you waiting outside saying good-night when the constable came; you were by the flap when the I barman brought the shilling to me.
Re-examined. The prisoners walked in a line on the pavement going to the station—the shilling I picked up and those my porter picked up were all together; mine was right on the side of the kerb, and Burke was nearest the kerb.
VICTOR STOREY . I am a private in East Surrey Regiment—on the evening of 14th March I was with my brother in the Clarence Tavern; I saw the three prisoners there—I saw the constable come in—the prisoners were charged with uttering counterfeit coin and taken to the station—after that I picked up three shillings and my brother picked up four from where the prisoners had been standing previously—we handed them to the barman—I came in at eight o'clock and saw the prisoners have one drink.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. Burke and Smith were there when I entered, and Munro came in afterwards, about eight—that was the first I saw of them.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. There might have been about a dozen people in the bar—I did not hear Munro say anything to Burke or Smith—I am quite sure of that—I had been in about ten minutes before Munro came in—I stopped there till they were arrested—about ten minutes after the arrest I found the coins—the three prisoners had been standing together.
By the COURT. As Smith and Burke-came in at one door I came in at another—I know the time, because I saw a clock at Charing Cross Station five minutes before I entered the public-house.
Re-examined. They were only drinking for half-an-hour before the police were sent for—there was nothing particular to attract my attention before the police came—the prisoners were strangers to me—Burke and Smith were drinking for ten minutes before Munro joined them.
RICHARD SCANTLEBURY (A 188). I was called to this tavern about 8.40 p.m.—I saw the prisoners in the bar—Avenall said, "I give these men into custody on a charge of possessing and uttering counterfeit coin"—they said nothing—they did not seem at all surprised; in fact, Burke seemed rather composed about it—I and another constable took them to the station—they were charged, but said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. They all gave correct addresses—search was made there; nothing was found.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I made inquiries with regard to Munro; he is employed at the London Road Car Company's office; he is a respectable, honest man.
JOHN MOORE (Sergeant A 41). I was at King Street Police-station when the prisoners were brought in—Avenall came too, and charged them with uttering six counterfeit coins, and he handed me the six shillings that had been passed over the bar, one that he took from the bar, three that he had picked up on the way to the station, and seven that had been given to him by Storey—one counterfeit shilling was found in Burke's trousers pockets; there were eighteen altogether—he said nothing when I found it—when charged Smith said, "I only passed one shilling, and
this man (pointing to Munro) gave it to me"—the others did not say anything—on Burke I found, besides the counterfeit shilling, six sixpences good, 1s. 4d. in bronze, two small coils of wire, and several shoemaking tools—on Munro I found a bunch of keys, 3s. 9d. good silver, 5 1/2 d. bronze, and a small knife—on Smith I found two good sixpences, 4d. bronze, a quartern bottle containing gin, I believe.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIS. They gave correct addresses, where I searched; nothing was found—Burke is a shoemaker and horsekeeper.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Munro had on him a shilling, a florin, threepence, and sixpence, all good—I have made inquiries about him—he is engaged at the London Road Car Company's office at Page Street, Westminster, at a salary of 25s. a week—so far as I know he is a sober and honest man.
Cross-examined by Smith. The other prisoners were in the station when you made the statement to me about Munro giving you the shilling; they did not contradict it.
Burke's statement before the Magistrate: "The shilling found on me I got out of change for a two-shilling piece in the house."
Munro received a good character from a foreman to the Road Car Company. Smith, in his defence, said that when he went into the house he saw Munro and Burke together; that he had never seen Munro before, and that he had never said that Munro had given him a bad shilling; that he changed a shilling for a drink, but that he did not know it was bad.
MUNRO NOT GUILTY .
SMITH GUILTY — Ten Months' Hard Labour , BURKE GUILTY — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
347. EDWARD HILL (22) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joseph Cowell, and stealing therein a pair of stockings, and other articles, and £1; also** to a conviction of felony in September, 1890, at this Court— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. And
(348). JAMES SAMUELS (24) , to breaking and entering the warehouse of Wallace Bridger, and stealing certain articles and money; also** to a conviction of felony in January, 1887— Twenty Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Thursday, April 10th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
MARY DAINTON . I am the wife of Joseph Harry Dainton,. a carpenter, of 13, Hayne Home Road, West Kensington—I know the prisoner—she lodged with me first of all from 12th to the 18th August last—she came through my advertising—she said she wanted to get lodgings, because she expected to be confined—she said she was married—we arranged that she should pay five shillings a week for her lodging; she paid me what was due after 9th December, not till then—on 18th November she
went to the British Lying-in Hospital in Endell Street, and was confined there—on Wednesday, 3rd December, I went to the hospital and fetched her away with her baby, a girl—she stayed with me until the following Tuesday, the 9th—she then left and went to live with Mrs. Wood at South Hampstead; I went there with her, and she remained there, and I took the child back and kept it; she was to pay me as she took her money—this piece of paper is my handwriting—I always received the money from her on giving her a piece of paper, and the paper would be sent back to me by her when she sent more money; this was the last paper I had—up to 9th December about £2 15s. was owing to me; that has not been paid—on Tuesday, the 13th, the prisoner came to my house and said she had made arrangements with a person to take baby from me, and Mrs. Aubrey would come next day to take baby—up to that time the prisoner provided the clothes that the child was wearing—I was to prepare clothes, everything fit for a child, and she brought more clothes with her when she came on the Tuesday—on the 14th January Mrs. Aubrey came and took the child away—it was then in perfect health—I have never seen the child since.
Cross-examined. Altogether she has paid me £6 5s. down to December 12th, in such sums as £1 13s., 7s., 6s., and 16s.—I never bothered her for money—she paid me whenever she could, I was perfectly satisfied; I had more from her than I thought I should have—I never pressed her; she was fond of the baby; she always took care of it, she appeared to be attached to it.
FANNY JANE AUBREY . I am the wife of William Aubrey, of 18, Dieppe Street, West Kensington—I am at present engaged as a cook in the Isle of Wight—I have a daughter, she belonged to a girls' Sunday-school, and a lady there knew Mrs. Wood, with whom the prisoner was then living—in consequence of what was said to me I went to Mrs. Wood, and saw the prisoner there—I told her my name was Aubrey, and that I had brought a card from a lady who had asked my daughter to ask me would I take a nurse child—she said she was wet nurse to Mrs. Wood's child, but that the person who had it then had another child, and so could not take care of it any longer; I asked her what her terms were—she said five shillings a week—I said that was not quite sufficient for so young a baby—I said I wanted seven shillings and sixpence—she said her husband was in a consumptive hospital ill, and I agreed to take five shillings—I was moving at this time; I gave her my address, and she said she would come and see me in a day or two—I got a letter from her about 14th or 15th January; it was destroyed, it was telling me she was sorry she could not come to see me as she had agreed for me to go to Mrs. Dainton's, and bring the baby back with me, and a few things which she had—she said in the letter that she was rather short of the long clothes, but she was making short clothes, and she would send them in a week or so—upon that letter I went to Mrs. Dainton's and got the child—it was in good health when it came into my hands—at the end of a week I got another letter from the prisoner, enclosing a postal order for five shillings—then on 30th or 31st January I got this letter. (Read: "Millwage Green, Croft Gardens, West Hampstead. Dear Mrs. Aubrey,—I have enclosed five shillings for baby. I hope it is all right, and no trouble. I am glad that you are going to take her to be vaccinated next week. I am afraid
I shall be obliged to deprive you of her again, as my husband says he has a friend in the country who wants to take baby, and would like to keep her as their own; so if you won't be offended, and won't mind taking her to be done, as I am wanted here, so can't get away for a week or two, but will let you know when I can come and fetch her; so I don't know that it is worth while to send the clothes now, as I shall have to bring them back again.") I did take the child to be vaccinated on the Monday after—the child got over the vaccination very well—about 9th or 10th February I received this letter from the prisoner, in answer to one I wrote asking her to send me a certificate of baby's birth in case it should be asked for. (Read: "I am pleased to think that baby is vaccinated, and that she is a good little thing. I hope it will get on all right, and not make her ill. "You must not think it anything against you that I am going to take baby away, only it is a friend I have known almost all my life, and she wishes to have baby. I hope you will be successful and get another. If I know of one I will let you know. I have enclosed P.O. order for five shillings and card of register of birth. On Thursday evening I will fetch her, or if you can bring her to Baker Street at a quarter to seven, and I will pay you for it; that would save my coming right there, as I have to go to Waterloo. You can send me her things by Carter Paterson. I shall not want them, only what she wears, as I have short clothes made for her.")—on that Thursday night, 12th February, I went to Baker Street Station at a quarter to seven; I took the child with me; it was then in good health; I fed it before leaving home, and I fed her with the bottle while in the train—I took with me a clean nightgown and half a dozen diapers, tied up in a brown paper parcel; my daughter's address in writing was on the paper—the child had on a flannel band, a shirt, a long flannel, a linen binder, a white nightgown, and a little pink-and-white jacket, and boots tied with pink ribbon, a piece of blanketing and necessaries to keep it warm and comfortable; a white wool shawl, a red-and-black shawl, a little white neck-handkerchief, and a hood—I met the prisoner at the station; I had to wait a little while for her—she was carrying a tin bonnet-box, of a yellow colour—I gave her the baby and asked her how she thought she was looking—she said she thought she was looking very well indeed; that she had grown, and that she was a dear little thing—I told her I had brought a parcel of a few things for her in case they were wanted; a little nightgown, and diapers, and her bottle—I handed her the parcel and bottle separate, and I said, "I don't think you will have to feed her again, she will go to sleep, as I have fed her in the train"—she said, "Will you untie the string and put it inside for me? it is rather hard to lock, so I have brought a piece of string—I untied the string and opened the box, and put the parcel and the bottle inside—there was a small sheet of brown paper folded in the box; I think I laid the certificate with it; I had carried it in my hand, thinking she might want to put it in her pocket, but I think I put it in the box—this is it—I said, "Are you going to take the baby to its destination?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "When you take off her things you will see how she is grown"—she said, "Oh, I can see now, Mrs. Aubrey; you have taken care of her; she is a dear little thing," and kissed her—this was in the station—she asked, did it matter about not paying me the money she had promised; that she had not been paid herself; but she
would send it on to me next evening—I said I was a little disappointed, but of course that would do—she carried the baby and I carried the box—she said she wanted a Westminster 'bus, as she was going to Waterloo—I said, "I will go with you to the corner of Baker Street and see you in the 'bus—she gave me two shillings; I was to have had six—we walked to the top, and there was an omnibus going to Oxford Street—she got in, and I handed her the box, and that was the last I saw of her—I left London on the Tuesday afterwards, and went to the Isle of Wight—I afterwards received four shillings from her—these (produced) are part of the things I gave the prisoner on the 12th. February, the nightgown and this diaper that I put on the baby, and this is the paper I tied the parcel up in—the other things I never saw till I saw them in Court.
Cross-examined. I only saw the prisoner when I went to take the child, and at Baker Street—I did not see her with the child the first time; she appeared to be fond of it when I took it to Baker Street—the last things I saw her doing with it was to hold it up to me through the window of the 'bus—I thought she was really sincerely fond of it, from her letters, and from the way in which she handled it.
WILLIAM AUBREY . I am a cab driver, and live at 18, Dieppe Street—the last witness is my wife—from time to. time while my wife was taking care of this little child letters used to come to her—I saw these two letters—I recollect my wife giving up the baby on 12th February, and filing to the Isle of Wight—after that a letter came, which I believe to be in the same handwriting as these two—I am not sure whether that letter was burnt or torn up, I cannot find it—it enclosed a Post-office order for four shillings—there was something written in it about the child being all right, and just in time to meet the person at Waterloo who was going to take the child from her—I do not remember anything else in the letter—I did not pay much attention to it.
JOHANNA GERDSUM . I am cook to Mrs. Wood, of Greencroft Gardens—the prisoner was there as wet nurse to Mrs. Wood's baby—I have seen the prisoner write—these two letters are in her handwriting—she told me she was the wife of George Rowland, a draper's assistant at Eastbourne—from time to time I saw her writing letters; she said one was to her husband—I recollect her going out on 12th February; she said she was going to Baker Street to take the child from Mrs. Aubrey to Waterloo; that she had had a letter from her husband saying that friends of hers, Mr. and Mrs. Foster, were going to take the child and keep it until they got settled—she said Foster was a draper's assistant, the same as her husband, and Mrs. Foster was an old schoolfellow of hers, and they were living at Ringwood—she left the house that day, taking a tin box with her; there was nothing in it but a piece of brown, paper and string, which she put in it—I asked her why she was going to take it—she said Mrs. Aubrey might not have a nice piece of paper to put the baby's clothes in, and therefore she took it—this is the box (produced)—she left about half-past six—she came back about a quarter past nine the same evening; she came into the kitchen—she smelt strongly of' peppermint, and I noticed that she was very pale—she was carrying this hat box and a brown paper parcel—she put the box down just inside the kitchen door, and put the brown paper parcel on the table; the box sounded as if it was heavy—she took a feeding bottle from her pocket;.
it was empty; that was put into the kitchen drawer—I asked her why she brought it back—she said Rose (Mrs. Foster) had got two, she did not want three, so she let her have two, and brought the other one—I asked her what the husband thought of the baby—she said he thought it was a nice little child—she said she had met Mr. and Mrs. Foster and her husband, and they went into the refreshment room at Waterloo Station; that she had a glass of port wine and Mrs. Foster had a glass of peppermint, and in larking she touched Mrs. Foster's arm and spilt the peppermint over the baby and over her things—I had asked her about the smell of peppermint, and that was her explanation of it—the paper parcel was opened that evening, and in it were two baby's nightdresses and two shawls—neither of the shawls are here—one was a large woollen one—these are the two night-dresses—at the Police-court the prisoner was wearing the woollen shawl; that smelt of pepper-mint—a little time afterwards the prisoner went upstairs to bed, taking the box with her; it was put under the nursery bed; that was her bedroom—next day I saw her washing the two night-dresses and the shawl—I asked why she was washing them—she said that Mrs. Aubrey had sent them back dirty—before the 12th February I noticed her doing needlework and making baby's clothes—I did not see her doing that after the 12th—I asked her why she did not finish off sending them to Rose—she said Rose had plenty; that her mother had sent them on to Rose, and she did not need any more; that she had a lot of Cecil's clothes; that they had been sent on to Mrs. Foster; Cecil was the name of her little boy—the prisoner borrowed small sums of me several times while she was with me; she paid me all back; she does not owe me anything now—her wages were paid on the 11th, fifteen shillings; out of that she paid ten shillings to the housemaid which she had borrowed—the tin box was under the nursery bed all the time up to the 25th February; it was opened on that day—I was with the prisoner in the nursery after it was opened, and had some conversation with her—I asked her whether she did it, and was it the night she went to see George—she said, "Yes"—I said, "What made you do it?"—she said she gave it some peppermint; it had got the wind, and it took its breath away—I said, "Why did you not speak of it when you came home?"—she said she was afraid, and she had put it in the box; that was all the conversation—she was then taken away—I do not know anything about this piece of brown paper that has been produced; there is some writing on it.
Cross-examined. She was making no more clothes after the 12th; up to the 12th she was making clothes—I had several conversations with her about the child—there was only one other servant in the house besides me—we were thrown together a good deal; we had many talks—she always expressed herself in an affectionate manner about the child; I inferred that she was fond of it—she said on one occasion that she was not so fond of her own child as she was of Mrs. Wood's, that she was nursing—she appeared to be fond of children—I knew that she had a child three years old that her mother was taking care of—I do not know whether the box was locked when she went out with it; she tried to lock it—I did not notice whether it was locked when she brought it back.
care of it; I afterwards saw the dead baby at the hospital; I believe it to be the same child.
FREDERICK FOSTER . I am a draper's assistant, at Brentwood—my native place is Blandford, Dorset—about four years ago I was an apprentice to a draper there—George Maidment was a fellow-apprentice—I know the prisoner quite well—she was at Blandford at that time—George Maidment used to keep company with her—I last saw him about three years ago—I am a single man—I do not know a girl named Rose; I am not engaged to anybody named Rose—I do not know anyone named George Rowland—I did not agree to take care of a child in February this year—I had no communication from the prisoner in that month, or from Maidment, or from any person named Rowland—I was not at Waterloo Station on the night of 12th February—I did not see the prisoner at all on that day; I have not seen her for over three years—I nave never lived at Ringwood, in Hampshire.
Cross-examined. When I last saw the prisoner, she was in the service of a photographer at Bournemouth; I think that was about three years ago, it might be longer—George Maidment was keeping company with her at that time; he was supposed to be going to be married to her—I do not know that he seduced her under the promise of marriage; he was supposed to have done so.
SELINA LAMBERT . I live at Pimpery, near Blandford—the prisoner is my daughter; she is not married—I am now taking charge of a little boy of hers called Cecil, an illegitimate child, the son of George Maidment, who used to keep company with my daughter—she came up to London after that, and has lived there ever since, in service—I did not hear from her that she was about to be confined of a second child—I do not know a George Rowland, a draper's assistant at Eastbourne, or elsewhere—I have never received a letter from anyone of that name—I knew Mr. Foster—I never sent any child's clothes to him, or made any arrangements for doing so, to him or to any person—some time before 10th March I received a letter from the prisoner—there was no mention in that letter of any other child.
Cross-examined. My daughter is now twenty years of age—she lived; with me till she was fifteen—she then went out to service to Mr. Barnard, for three years; then to the Rev. Mr. Wilkinson for nine months; then to Mr. Derwent as cook for some time—during all that time she was keeping company with Maidment, and engaged to be married to him, the banns were put up in church, and the day before they were going to be I married he ran away and left her—he seduced her, and I have been keeping the child Cecil—she has sent me clothes for that child, and always expressed great affection towards it—after he was born she came to a situation in London—I never heard of the birth of this child till the police communicated with me.
By the COURT. The boy I am taking care of was six or seven month sold when she came to London—Maidment supported it by small instalments, which my daughter forwarded to me; but he has gone away altogether.
CATHERINE GRACE WOOD . I live at Greencroft, South Hampstead—I am the wife of Mr. Wood, a solicitor—about 9th December I engaged the prisoner as a wet nurse; she came to my house with the baby and Mrs. Dainton—after some days I engaged Mrs. Aubrey to take care of
it—the prisoner told me she was married to a draper's assistant at Eastbourne—I gave her fifteen shillings a week, and paid her every Tuesday as near as possible—I recollect paying her fifteen shillings on 11th February, the day before she left; that was all that was due to her; I had given her five shillings in advance before—on 12th February she asked leave to go out to meet her husband; she did not say where—I gave her leave to go—I saw her go that evening; she had a small tin bonnet-box with her—I saw her again about half-past nine that evening, when she came into the nursery crying; she had the same box with her, she put it under the bed in the nursery—I can't say that I noticed anything about her—I did not speak to her that evening—next morning she told me her husband was very pleased with the child; she did not say where she had been—I did not know that she had taken the child from Mrs. Aubrey—after that day she mentioned the child to me at various times; she always said the child was looking well, and she thought it was nearly as big as my child, although it was younger—before 25th February I noticed that the nursery was very close and stuffy, and on the afternoon of the 25th I made a search, and under the bed found the tin bonnet-box—the prisoner had then gone out with the children—I opened the box, and in it found the body of the child; it was fastened with a small piece of string, which was easily undone—I took the box into the bath-room, and sent for Dr. Milson, who is a relative of mine; he came, and I asked him to see about the matter, and left it entirely in his hands—I had no further conversation with the prisoner.
Cross-examined. She appeared fond of my child.
GEORGE FALKLAND (Inspector S). I was present at the Police-court when Police-constable Barling was sworn, and gave evidence in this case before the Magistrate in the prisoner's hearing—the prisoner was present, and had a solicitor, who had the opportunity of cross-examination; this is Barling's signature to his deposition—I saw him at nine this morning; he was in bed, suffering from yellow jaundice, and is unable to travel—I produce a medical certificate to that effect. (Deposition read: "About four yesterday afternoon Dr. Milson came to me. I went with him to this house, and into the bath-room. He opened this box in my presence, and I saw the dead body in the box. He took it out of the box and put it back; the box was then taken away by the officer")—I made a search in the nursery, and found this bottle of laudanum on the washhand-stand; the bottle has the same quantity in it now as then—I took the prisoner from the house to the station—Sergeant Riley told her the charge against her—on the way to the station she said nothing to me—I heard the charge read out to her afterwards; she replied, "All I have to say is that I gave it the peppermint."
JOHN RILEY (Sergeant S R 1). On the afternoon of the 25th February I saw the prisoner at Mr. Wood's house, in the presence of Constable Barling—I charged her on suspicion of causing the death of her child; she made no answer—I asked her if she had any boxes; she said, "Yes," pointing to one under the bed in the room—it was unlocked—I opened it, and she said, "There is another box downstairs that belongs to me"—there were only articles of women's underclothing in it; no child's clothes—while looking at that box she said, "There is another box downstairs belonging to me, and in that you will find the child's clothing, but they have been washed"—I went down, into the basement,
and found a tin box, and in it these two child's nightgowns and a quantity of child's apparel; they appeared to have been washed and roughly dried—I also found this certificate of birth—she was taken to the station; I followed, and was present when she was formally charged—she made no reply in my hearing—on Saturday, the 28th, I went back to the house, and again searched the box I had seen in the basement—I found in it eight diapers, two white shirts, one finished and one unfinished, a white flannel petticoat, a pink flannel frock, unfinished, and a bundle of letters; I have looked through them—I found none purporting to come from George Rowland, nor any referring to any arrangement for keeping the child in the country or elsewhere—there are some signed George Maidment, and principally dated in 1885 and 1886.
THOMAS BANNISTER (Inspector S). I was present at the first hearing at the Police-court on 26th February—I saw the prisoner before she was brought before the Magistrate—I told her who I was, and asked her if she had any friends she would like to be communicated with, so that they might know the position in which she was placed—she said, "No; the child cried so I went into a chemist's shop and bought one pennyworth of peppermint and gave it; then it died in my arms, and I was so frightened I did not know what to do. I put it into the box on Westminster Bridge; I took the box with me, because I thought Mrs. Aubrey was going to bring baby's clothes, but she did not bring it."
RICHARD HENRY MILSON , M. D. I live at 88, Finchley Road—I am related to Mrs. Wood; she sent for me about four in the afternoon of 25th February—I went upstairs into the bath-room, and found the tin bonnet-box produced; it was hasped, I think, but not locked; I opened it, and found the dead body of a child, covered with brown paper, tied round with a piece of string—when I opened the box I could see the body well, it was very much decomposed—I should say it had been dead about ten or twelve days—I went into an adjoining room and saw the prisoner—I said to her, "You know there has been the dead body of a baby found under your bed"—she said, "Yes; I gave it some peppermint, and it took its breath away; I gave it in the street in Westminster, it was crying so"—I said, "But peppermint won't kill a baby"—she said, "That was all I gave it, but whatever was done would not do it any harm"—there were no clothes on the child, it was quite naked—there was nothing else in the box except the body, the paper, and the string—on 27th February I made a post-mortem in conjunction with Dr. Pepper—the body was well nourished, weighing from ten to twelve pounds, a proper weight for a child of that age—there were no external marks of violence—there was a deep stain on the upper side of the tip of the tongue, in the centre, extending about a quarter of an inch downwards, about half an inch wide; that might have been produced by pressure of the jaw—the brain was quite healthy; the lungs were healthy, just a little swollen at the edges; that might be from decomposition—the heart was quite healthy; the stomach, liver, and kidneys perfectly healthy, the stomach empty—I found no trace of any chronic disease—I found no trace whatever of peppermint or of any poison having been administered—the cause of death was asphyxia, i.e., suffocation—I could not say from the appearance of the body in what way that suffocation was caused—the body of the child was doubled up in the box, lying with the right side of the face towards the bottom of the box; the head bent
on the chest, wedged in—the box was not large enough to take the child at full length; it pretty well filled the box—I could not say whether it was put in before or after death, it was so decomposed—in a child of that age rigidity would set in probably in about three or four hours—I am unable to state whether the body was rigid or not when put into the box; I have no knowledge of cases where peppermint has caused suffocation; it is sometimes properly given to children, generally when they have flatulency; it is warming and soothing—a pennyworth bought at a chemist's would be essence of peppermint; that is not very strong, not the strongest form—I am unable to state whether traces of it would be found in a body ten days after death, because of the decomposition—I say that death was caused by suffocation; but I am not able to state in what way that suffocation came about—holding the child's face firmly to the breast might cause suffocation, or covering its face with clothes.
Cross-examined. On account of the decomposition it was impossible to say whether there were any traces of peppermint in the stomach or not—essence of peppermint might properly be given to a child crying; it is a soothing thing—I said to the prisoner, "Peppermint would not kill a child; why not call a doctor?" to which she replied she was too frightened to do anything—I corrected that afterwards, and said that was not correct; that was said to the prisoner in Court; I stated that essence of peppermint might produce it—a drop of essence of pepperment on the top of the windpipe causing a spasm might cause suffocation; it is quite possible.
Re-examined. The essence I speak of is the ordinary essence of peppermint, which would be sold to a chance customer; that would be quite strong enough; I have made inquiry.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I plead Not Guilty, and reserve my defence."
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of her youth, and the painful circumstances in which she was placed. — DEATH.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, April 9th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
350. ALEXANDER BROWN (48), JEAN BAPTISTE FLOBERT (44), and ERNEST RATIER (53) , Unlawfully receiving £200, the money of Lord Revelstoke, under the pretence of helping him to recover certain stolen bonds.
MESSRS. BESLEY and C. F. GILL Prosecuted; MR. C. MATHEWS appeared for Brown, and MR. MUIR for Flobert.
The evidence was interpreted to Ratier.
FRANCIS PETER ARTESANI . I am chief clerk in the Spanish department of Baring Brothers, bankers, of 8, Bishopsgate Street Within—some Chilian and Alabama bonds were stolen from the firm in 1883—I knew the prisoner Brown about ten years ago, but our acquaintance ceased about five years ago—on March 5th I received a letter from him at my private house—I know his writing—the letter is destroyed; it was simply making an appointment for the next day at the Bodega, Bishopsgate Street—I went there, and met him—he told me he knew where he
could put his hand upon £16,000 worth of the stolen North and South Alabama bonds within twenty-four hours if I could induce the chief to pay for them at the rate of 60 per cent.—I said that is was rather an extraordinary business, but I would mention it to my chief—he said, "My group will take ten per cent, for their trouble, and you will get a fourth of that"—I parted with him, and mentioned it to Lord Revelstoke immediately, and next day I wrote to Brown and told him they were considering the matter—a few days after I received this letter from Brown: "11th March, 25, Finborough Road, Brompton. My dear Artesani,—I shall be glad to hear again from you, as I fear by delay we may miss the opportunity of doing the business.—Yours sincerely, ALEX. BROWN HOVELL."—I met him next day at the Bodega, and told him I had mentioned the matter to the partners, and I thought they would be willing to give 50 per cent.—I asked whether the group would not take 40 per cent.; he said they would not hear of anything under 50, they had got emboldened with the negotiations which had just taken place in Paris at the house of Venables, where they got an advance of £2,000 in cash, against £3,000 worth of bonds—Venables are money-changers in Paris—he said it must be gone on with immediately, otherwise they should lose the business, and he should require a guarantee of the firm written on our paper to protect themselves from the action the police might take—I said the firm would never do that—I afterwards got this letter. (This was dated 13th March, enclosing a form of letter to be written on the firm's paper, and requesting the re-purchase of 11,000 bonds, to be paid for at 50 per cent, of the price quoted for the day, and 2 per cent, commission)—I also received this letter. (Dated 13th March, from Brown, to the witness, agreeing to allow him a quarter of any money recovered, after paying the amount arranged to the people presenting the Alabama debentures)—I wrote to him on 14th March by instruction, and met him on the 16th in the Bodega, in answer to a letter from him—he said we were to go to 37 and 38, Mark Lane, at five minutes to two, to meet his people, and I was to take with me a cheque for £1,500, and cash it in gold and £5 notes—he wanted it all in gold, but I objected because it was very heavy, and we arranged for £500 in gold and £1,000 in £5 notes—we went to our office, and I told Brown I could not get the cheque that day—I left him outside and came back and spoke to him—I got a cheque on the 16th, and wrote to him, telling him that I had got it and would cash it next day, and on the 17th I received this letter from him, which crossed mine. (Offering to meet the witness next day outside Martin's bank)—on the 17th I found him outside Martin's bank; we went in together, and I cashed the cheque for £1,500, and got £500 in gold and £1,000 in notes at his request—I told him I did not consider it safe with such a large sum on me to meet people I did not know, and that I would rather go to his house or mine, where we could transact the business quite as expeditiously—he said he had arranged to meet them at a friend's office, 37, Mark Lane, and he must acquaint them with my objection—he said that his friends were to pay £5 for the use of the office, and a larger sum if the business was satisfactorily carried out—I said I would remain in Lombard Street while he went to see his friends—he said that I must not go—he hailed a cab to drive to Mark Lane, and said, "You must trust me with at least £200 to begin with, as my friends cannot do anything without seeing the money"—I said that I could not part with any money
without the return of a corresponding number of bonds—he said he was sure there would be no business done unless I gave him the money, and offered his personal guarantee, which I did not accept—the cab arrived at Mark Lane and stopped—he invited me to go upstairs to the office; I said I did not consider it safe to go upstairs with such a large sum of money, and I remained in the cab—he went into the building and came down with Flobert, who asked me if I knew French—I said I could not speak in French with him—he said that the business was a very difficult one, but if I gave the money to Brown it would be all right, and Brown said I must give him £200, as his people had to go to Peckham for the bonds, and the object was to drive to Finborough Road, where we should receive the bonds from his people coming from Peckham—Brown said he would give me a receipt for the £200, and took a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote this: "Received of Mr. Artesani the sum of £200 for the return of Alabama Bonds. ALEX. BROWN"—I then handed him a bag containing 200 sovereigns, and he and Flobert went into the building; I remained in the hansom—the three prisoners were then brought out in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. MATHEWS. There was no ill-will between Brown and me, but there was a little misunderstanding; we had a difference, and the acquaintance absolutely ceased; it was renewed on my receipt of this letter this year—our respective families had kept up the acquaintance—Brown did not go into Baring's bank with me, he remained outside while I went in and consulted Lord Revelstoke, and I returned and told him I had done so—when Brown offered me a fourth of the commission I did not say, "Well, it would be handy to have £100 or so just now"—he suggested that bonds value £400 should be handed over from time to time, and I said in my letter that it would take a tremendous time to receive them in driblets—he told me that the £200 was to be given so that the people might fetch the bonds from Camberwell or Peckham, and bring them to his house in Finborough Road, and we, meaning himself and me, were to go to the Cintra Road, meaning his own house, and wait for them.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I understand a little French—he spoke in English when he said, "If you give the £200 to Brown it will be all right."
Re-examined. Brown only went with me to Baring's on 16th March; I went in, and Lord Revelstoke was not there; I said I could not get a cheque that day, as his lordship had gone, and I did not know when he would return—I got the cheque in the evening.
FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective Inspector). For a week before 17th March I caused Brown to be kept under observation—Inspectors Lawless Doulton, Cox, and Barton were engaged with me—on 17th March, about 1.45 p.m., I saw Mr. Artesani outside Martin's bank, Lombard Street; he was carrying a bag, and spoke to Brown—they went into the bank and came out and got into a cab, which was driven to 37 and 38, Mark Lane, when Brown went in and returned with Flobert—Rattier was inside the passage—Brown got into the cab again—Flobert went to the cab and rested one foot on the step, Rattier still standing in the passage in sight of the two—after a little time Mr. Artesani handed something to Brown, who got out of the cab, and the three prisoners went hurriedly up the
I steps—I followed them to the third floor with the other officers—they were near an office with the name of Barnes on the door, and close to Gastineau's office—I caught hold of Brown, and said, "We are police officers; where is that money?"—he took this bag containing two hundred sovereigns from the breast pocket of his coat—I said, "Where are the bonds?"—he said, "I don't know; they won't trust me with them, they have got them from Camberwell or Peckham; they have to pass through a number of hands"—I said, "You were to return the bonds for the money"—he said, "Oh no, that was to try and find them"—I said to Flobert, "Whose office were you going in?"—he did not appear to understand, and Rattier spoke to him in French—I said to Flobert, "Where is the key?"—he handed me this key from his pocket—they both said, "It is our friend's; it was lent to us, but he knows nothing"—I said, "In all probability you will be charged with stealing and receiving bonds"—we took them to Seething Lane Police-station—Brown said, "I have done nothing wrong, I am acting under the instructions of Baring's clerk; if I have done wrong he has done I wrong, and ought to be tried with us; this is a trap, and you have no business to do it; it is wrong, and that was proved in the blackmailing case"—I saw Flobert and Battier next morning, and Battier said in broken English, "You was too quick yesterday, if you had waited you would have got the bonds"—Flobert said, "Yes, if you had waited," and I understood him to say, "I have got millions back for them in Paris"—I found these two letters from Mr. Artesani on Brown, of March 14th and 16th; this pencil memorandum was on one of them, "37, Mark Lane 2.5.;" also this French letter signed, "R. Flobert" (To Mr. Brown, saying, "Let your friend get gold £500, notes £1,000; we will do as much as we can for it to-morrow; I shall be at Littlejohn's at 12.15")—I searched Brown, and found a little money and some memoranda.
FREDERICK LAWLESS (City Detective). On 16th March I was with Downes and another officer, and saw Mr. Artesani meet Brown at Martin's bank; I have heard the account given by Downes; it is correct—I arrested Flobert on the third floor landing, and said, "I am a police officer; where are the bonds?"—he said, "I have not got them, I know nothing about them; what does it all mean?" in broken English—I took him to Seething Lane Station, searched him, and found several small matters, some coins, tickets, and this letter of March 14th. (This was in French, from Rattier to Mr. Roberts, making an appointment at Littlejohn's for the following Monday)—I found some pawn-tickets on Battier, also the letter of March 16th—I saw the key of the office handed to Downes.
HENRY COX (City Detective). I was with Downes and Lawless on 17th March, and arrested Battier on the landing going up to the third floor—I said, "I am a police officer; have you heard what Inspector Downes has said?"—he said, "Yes, I know nothing about it"—I took him to Seething Lane Station—between the 10th and 17th March Detective Barker and I kept observation on the prisoners—on 13th March I saw Brown and Flobert by the Mecca coffee-house in Bell Alley; they went to the Shades public-house, and from thence to King William Street, where they met Battier opposite Littlejohn's; they left him and went to 6, Lombard Court—Brown came out with another man, and went to the Shades public-house—Flobert afterwards recognised him in King
William Street—they met Rattier again, and later on I saw Flobert meet the witness Gastineau—Brown was standing a short distance off while they were speaking—on the 16th I saw Brown go into Little john's, 6, Lombard Court, and come out with Flobert—I followed them from place to place, and left them at the Bodega, Bishopsgate Street.
EMILE ALEXIS GASTINEAU . I have been in England eighteen years—I am a commission agent, and live at Brixton—I have an office in Mark Lane, one room on the third floor—the block is numbered 37 and 38—I have known Flobert about three years, and Rattier about six years I do not know Brown much—Flobert asked me to lend him the use of my office on important business; that was about eight days before he was taken—he said that if I allowed him my key he would give me £5, and if he succeeded in the business he would give me £5, and perhaps £10—I, agreed on the Friday to let him have the room for an hour on Monday for £5—I let him have the key on the Monday, and he brought it back to Littlejohn's at 2.45—he had it again on Tuesday in King "William Street, and I never saw it again.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I trade as Barber and Co. HENRY BYRON REYNOLDS. I am the head of the stock and dividend department at Baring Brothers—on 23rd November, 1883, they had some North and South Alabama Railway bonds, of the nominal value of £200 each, and a Chilian bond for £2,000; they had been deposited as security for a loan of £20,000; they were worth perhaps £25,000—wecould not find them when we wished to put them away, they had disappeared—they were payable to bearer, and we stopped the coupons, as our house is the representative of the railway—we advertised them in the principal London papers, and in Paris and Amsterdam, and handbills were sent round—no trace was found of them till the end of 1889 or the beginning of 1890, when five of the Alabama bonds and the Chilian bond were dealt with by two men named Turner and Clark, who were prosecuted and convicted in this court, and we recovered the bonds—at present there are 100 of the railway bonds which we have not recovered.
THOMAS RICHARDSON SMERDON . I was formerly in the employ of Baring Brothers—I have retired—I was there when Turner and Clark were prosecuted—I remember this parcel of bonds disappearing—Mr. Reynolds drew my attention to it—the coupons were being cut oft on the day they were lost—I did not see the five again till 1890 at the trial, when they were ordered to be restored.
Rattier in his defence stated, through the interpreter, that he acted in perfect good faith in offering to find a person to interest himself in the restitution of the bonds, and he thought he was performing an honest act as an intermediary; that he never saw Mr. Artesani, and never demanded any money for his services, though he knew that a reward awaited him, and that he never saw the money or the bonds.
Brown received a good character. GUILTY .—BROWN and RATTIER Five Years' Penal Servitude each. FLOBERT, who had been eleven times convicted on the Continent— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
351. THOMAS JAMES PARKER (26) and WILLIAM HUGHES (27) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Glenister, and stealing three pairs of trousers, a bottle of champagne, and a coat, his property.— Four Months' Hard Labour each.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, April 9th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LYONS Prosecuted.
THOMAS LUCKFORD . On the night of 20th March I was in Grenville Street, Baker Street, Clerkenwell, off duty in plain clothes—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoner running, with no hat on—he had this jemmy in his hand, and when I went to close with him he threw it at me—we both fell to the ground—another constable came to my assistance, and we took him to 37, Baker Street, where I saw the prosecutor, bleeding from two large wounds on his head—he said, "That is the man that struck me" as soon as he saw the prisoner—the prisoner did not say anything—I took him to the station; he was charged with the assault.
Cross-examined. The other officer was a few yards off when we fell; the jemmy was lying in the road about five yards from us.
STEPHEN CHAPMAN (G 61). At 7.30 on 20th March I was in Granville Road—I heard cries of "Stop thief!" and went to Luckford's assistance—I saw the jemmy thrown—I picked it up—I assisted Luckford to take the prisoner to the station.
FREDERICK PETITT . I am a cab-proprietor, of 37, Baker Street—on the evening of 20th March I left my house about 6.30 and returned about 7.15—I put my key in the door and pushed it a little, but it came back again; I tried it again, and it did the same—then I pressed the door with all my night; someone was inside holding it—when I got inside I saw two men standing at the garden end of the passage, and the prisoner was by the side of the hat-rack—I could not see him till he spoke—he said, "Look out for yourselves," and at the same moment he struck me a blow on my forehead; I could not say what with—it made my eyes strike fire, and I reeled back to get to the door, and then he hit me on the back of the head, and it seemed to put me all right again—both blows were delivered by the same person, one after the other—the other two men had gone to the bottom of the steps—the prisoner got by me, and just as he was going out at the door I hit him with my light stick and ran after him to the top of the square, and saw him run into the constable's arms on the other side of the square—he was brought back to my house, and I identified him—I went to the station, and a doctor was fetched.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was no light in the passage—I did not see you till you spoke—I did not say, "Stand or I will fire"—the passage was not in particular darkness; I could see you there after you moved—you are the man that struck me—I believe you had a lump on your head where I struck you with my stick; the doctor felt your head.
By the COURT. I have had a heavy dull pain in my head; I have not felt properly right since.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am a surgeon to the police, practising at Percy Circus, Clerkenwell—on 20th March, at 7.30 p.m., I was called to the station, and examined Mr. Petitt's head; he had a contused wound two inches long, and penetrating to the bone on the top of the head and extending down the forehead, and another wound two and a half inches
long, and penetrating to the bone at the back of his head—the wounds were very serious, and must have been caused by some heavy weapon; any such instrument as this jemmy would have caused it—the blows must have been given with considerable force—he spent a restless night, and was very feverish, and was unable to attend at the Police-court for seven days—at the station I examined the prisoner's head—he had a small contusion above his left eyebrow; it might have been caused by a light stick—I could not say if a fall to the ground would produce it; it was a little bump—there was no dirt on his forehead, such as might have been expected if he had a fall.
JAMES SCOTT (Detective Sergeant G). At 7.45 on 20th March the prisoner was brought into King's Cross station—when the charge was taken he said, "I did not strike him; the man that struck him got away"—the jemmy was lying on the table beside him—he said, "That is not the jemmy, it was a heavier one."
Prisoner, in a written defence, said that one of the other men struck the blow.
MR. GRAZEBBROOK Prosecuted.
FREDERICK ARROBUS . I am a manufacturer of fancy goods at 9, "Whitecross Street—on Monday evening, 23rd March, I had a safety bicycle, value about £6, upstairs on the first landing—the front door is always open—I saw it safe between six and half-past, and missed it about 7.5—I know nothing of the prisoner—I next saw it on the 25th at Dalston Lane, and identified it.
ALFRED ALUM . I am a cycle engineer at 103a, Dalston Lane; I repair and deal in cycles generally—on Monday evening, 23rd March, about 9.30, the prisoner brought a safety bicycle—he said he had had it for four years, and said, "Will you buy this bicycle?"—I said, "I will sell it for you"—he said, "I have to go abroad to-morrow, and I want to sell it at once"—I told him I thought I could get 30s. or £2 for it—he said, "I want a sovereign for it"—I said, "If you leave it for two or three days I can get you 30s. or £2"—he afterwards said he would take ten shillings—I asked him his name and address, and said if he chose to take a small deposit on the ten shillings I would buy it, and he could call for the rest of the money to-morrow—he wrote his name and address as Cook, 14, Canterbury Road, Balls Pond, and gave it to me—he said the bicycle cost £7 four years ago, which I thought from the date of manufacture would be reasonable—I gave him five shillings deposit, and said he could have the other money next morning—it is my custom to give information before I purchase anything, and I informed the police—next evening at seven o'clock the prisoner came for the money—Constable Buckner was in my workshop at the back—I said to the prisoner, "The address you gave was wrong"—he said, "It was 41, not 14, Canterbury Road"—he maintained the name of Cook—the officer came out, and said he must go with him to the station—he said nothing,
and did not seem to have any objection—neither I nor the officer thought the bicycle was stolen.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say I could get you 10s., when you asked a sovereign—you went out of the shop, and came back with another man, and I think you said to him, "This man says he will not give £1, but he will give 10s.; will you take it?"—the other man may have said he would take 10s.—I believe there was an arrangement for the other man to call for the 5s., but that was an arrangement between you, and had nothing to do with me. Re-examined. I did not see the other man again. JAMES BUCKNER (Constable J). I received information through the last witness, and went to his address on the morning of 24th March, and again in the evening—while I was there the prisoner came in—Alum said to him, "I have been to 14, Canterbury Road, with a view to pay you the rest of the money"—the prisoner said, "41, old man "—I said to the prisoner, "Is your name Cook?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Do you live at 41, Canterbury Road?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You partly sold the machine to Mr. Alum last night?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police-officer, and I want you to account for the possession of it"—he said, "I was selling it for a friend"—I said I had every reason to believe the machine had been stolen; and he would have to come to Dalston Lane Police-station with me and be detained while some inquiry was made—he said, "Very well," and he went with me—at the station I said, "I want your correct name, and address"—he said, "It is Joseph Coates, 66, Leman Street"—I said, "Who is this friend of yours?"—he said, "His name is Cook"—I said, "Where does he live?"—he said, "41, Canterbury Road, I believe"—I went to 41, Canterbury Road, no person named Coates or Cook was known there—the prosecutor identified the bicycle at the Police-station.
THOMAS BREAK (City Policeman). On Wednesday, 25th March, I was at Dalston Lane Police-station; a bicycle was brought there which the prosecutor identified—the prisoner was brought in and charged with, stealing it—he made no reply—he gave his address, 66, Leman Street.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he met a man whom he had known by tight for six months, who gave his address at Canterbury Road, and that he asked him to sell the bicycle for him. GUILTY of receiving. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
DAY— One Month's Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Friday, April 10th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. BIRON Defended Rushton.
they are both made to scale—I examined the entrance to the door in the corner; there is no step there.
Cross-examined. There has been a step, but it is worn away by traffic; it is very slight; it does not vary half an inch.
GEORGE NOAKES . I live at 4, Miles Yard, Greycoat Place; I am a bottle-buyer—on Saturday night, 14th March, I was in the Three Elms public-house, St. Ann's Street, Westminster, about a quarter to eleven, with a friend named Clark—there were some soldiers in the bar—I saw the prisoners there—I and Clark had some dispute, and we went out to settle it—Duffy followed us out, and a Grenadier named Watts, to see Clark and I fighting; it was not a serious fight—after settling our dispute Clark and I went inside again, and Duffy and Watts came in afterwards—Duffy pushed me, I did nothing, I left shortly afterwards—I did not see the dispute between Duffy and Watts.
Cross-examined by Duffy. I did not knock Clark down; he fell, and we both stood up—you took him in, and I came after, and I went over and spoke to him—you did not say to me, "He does not want any bother with you"—Watts got between us and told us to drop it, and we did drop it; we were quarrelling at the time—I did not go across to him with any intention of bother, but to make friends with him, and we went out together, and he went one way and I the other, and that was all I saw.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. Clark and I had a bit of a row before we went outside—there were one or two women in the bar, and Creswell; he was not drunk, he was sober—Watts had had a drop—I did not see Creswell touch one of the women with his stick and make some remark.
ARTHUR CLARK . I live at 15, Abingdon Street, Lambeth—I am a singer—I was at the Three Elms on the night of 14th March with Noakes; he and I had a little bit of a bother, and went outside and had a little bit of sparring; that was all; then we went inside again—I saw nothing of what happened afterwards; I left with Noakes, and went home.
JAMES WHITE . I am a sailor, and live at Peabody's Buildings, Pimlico—on the night of 14th March I was at the Three Elms; while there a dispute took place between Noakes and Clark, and they went out—I don't think Watts went out—a few minutes afterwards Clark and Noakes came in again—I saw Duffy push Noakes on to the floor—Watts asked Duffy what he pushed the man down for; they talked together, and as I turned my head I saw Watts with the door in his hand, half open, and the prisoners rushed towards the door and jumped at him, and pushed him outside, both of them together, and he fell on his head—I went out, and saw both the men kicking him as he was lying with his head out in the road and his feet on the pavement—I saw both of them kick him in the upper part of the body more than once—Creswell came to his assistance, and he got knocked down; I don't know by which of them; he got up, and Watts was trying to turn himself round on the pavement, and Rushton was kicking him on the back, at the back part of the neck, and Duffy on the front—the prisoners then walked away for about fifty yards up the street—somebody went over and said, "Come back; you have been and kicked him to death"—then they both ran away—I followed, and spoke to a constable—I did not see either of them again until Duffy was in custody in Rochester Row at the station—
I afterwards saw Rushton at the barracks—I did not identify him a first; it was by gaslight in the middle of the night—I saw him afterwards in Rochester Row, and identified him there.
Cross-examined by Duffy. I did not say at the Police-court I was drunk I was boosy—I did have my coat off when I came outside the public-house—I pulled it off when you started to run away—I was singing a song a little before this; I did not come round with my cap for money, I had a week's wages in my pocket at the time—the two civilians were quarrelling for about two minutes, then they were talking friendly together.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. I had not been in any public-house that night before I went to the Three Elms—this disturbance began close upon eleven—I did not see Creswell push a woman with a stick—the prisoners were sitting on a bench near the door; Duffy was not nearest the door—Watts was standing right abreast of the door, as if he was going out—I can't say which of the prisoners went first to push Watts out; they seemed both going together; there was no confusion in the house; quite quiet—there were no women there then as I saw; there had been—I went out before Creswell—about twenty people were outside when I went out—while I was inside I was standing with my back against the wall, facing the disturbance, but I took no part in it and said nothing—I am positive I did not take my coat off till I got outside—"Creswell must have come outside just after me—I got out after Watts had fallen—I can't say who gave the first kick—directly the kicking began the crowd gathered up to see what was going on—there was a good deal of confusion—both the prisoners gave kicks—I saw no one else kick.
FREDERICK CRESWELL . I am a private in the Grenadier Guards, at Chelsea Barracks—Watts was in the same regiment—about eleven on the night of 14th March I was with him in the Three Elms—I saw the prisoners there and some civilians—a fight occurred between two of the civilians; after that I saw Duffy push Noakes; Watts told him he should not have done it; that he had nothing to do with him—some words took place between them; I told Watts to keep still, and not to have any bother, and he sat down—after about a quarter of an hour he got up and walked over to Duffy in a friendly way; Duffy said to him that he had been on all the night, and he had better go out and have it out—Watts said he did not want to have any bother—the two prisoners then rushed at Watts by the door, and struck at him, and shoved him, and the next thing I saw was Watts on the pavement outside—I followed them out, close after them, and while Watts was on the pavement the prisoners kicked him—I saw Duffy kick him somewhere about the neck; it was a running kick; he stepped back about a pace or two, and then rushed at him—I saw Rushton kick him, but not with such force as Duffy, and in a different part of the body—I assisted to pick Watts up, and Duffy and I fell; they ran away, down Star Street and up Peter Street—I pursued them for about two hundred yards, and then lost sight of them—I returned to the public-house; Watts was still on the ground; I spoke to him, but got no answer—I undid his tunic and sent for the police, and he was taken away on a stretcher—next day I went to Wellington Barracks, and identified Duffy, and picked him out.
Cross-examined by Duffy. Watts did not say to you, "If you have anything
to do with it come outside, and have it out with me"—I did not hit a girl in the stomach, I might have done it as she passed me—when you and Rushton got up to go out I and Watts did not go out in front of you—I did not strike Rushton in the doorway as he was coming out, and knock him down; I took no part in it all, except to pick Watts up—I did not knock off your cap with a stick and say, "I will fight the two of you"—after you had kicked the man I said so.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. I left the barracks with Watts, at two minutes past seven, and was in his company till we got to the Three Elms—we had been in two or three public-houses before we got there, and had something to drink at each—we got to the Three Elms about ten, and stayed till about eleven—we were drinking a little during that time, we were not drunk—I did touch a woman with my stick as she passed by, that did not lead to words—I saw White in the bar; he was not drunk, nor was anybody that I am aware of; White was singing—I did not see him take his hat round to get money—I did not see his coat off in the house—when Watts went over to speak to Duffy both the prisoners were sitting on a bench near the door—I don't know which was nearest the door—I could not say which gave Watts the first push—they both went out together—I should think there were about twenty people outside—directly Duffy gave the kick a crowd collected to see what was going on—I am not sure whether the kick Rushton gave took effect; I mean not to hurt him—it touched him—I did not know the prisoners before.
HERBERT WILLIAM ALLBOROUGH . I am barman at the Three Elms—I was serving behind the bar on Saturday night, 14th March—I saw the prisoners there and the two Grenadiers—I did not serve any of them—I did not see the two civilians go out—I was not there in the earlier part of the evening—I saw Watts go and speak to the Scots Guardsman, Duffy—the prisoners were then sitting on a bench, and Watts was close to the door—the prisoners got up from the seat, rushed at Watts, and dragged him through the door, both of them together, and they all three went out—I came from behind the bar, and went outside through another door, and got on to the pavement—the deceased was then lying outside the end door, and I saw Duffy kick him on the right side of the face—I saw Creswell come to his assistance, and Duffy gave him a kick in the shoulder as he was stooping down looking at his comrade's face—it did not seem to have much effect upon him—Rushton also kicked Watts on the lower part of the back, on the right side—I only speak to one kick by each prisoner—Duffy's kick was a severe one—it was three or four minutes before I got out—I served one customer and then went out—I saw the prisoners walk away a few yards down the street—some man came running up and said, "The man is nearly dead; why don't you come back to him?" or something to that effect, and the prisoners scampered away—I saw White go after them.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. When the prisoners were sitting on the bench Duffy was nearest the door; Watts was standing against the door, about six inches from it—Watts said something, and Duffy rushed towards him, took him by the collar and threw him out; he dragged him on his heels—the prisoners jumped up together like; Rushton had hold of Watts' arm, and Duffy had his arm round him, the deceased was leaning on his chest like, and they walked out with him—I will swear that
Rushton had hold of him at the time Duffy threw him out—when I got out Watts was lying on the pavement, his head near the door and his feet slanting out towards the road—the only kick I saw Rushton make was on the lower part of the back—there were a few people round, I worked my way through them, and saw the kick—Rushton's kick was a very slight one, I should think, it did touch him—I never said that Rushton did not kick him.
By the COURT. Watts did not say anything while on the ground; he was lying on his back, I could just see his face by looking through the legs of the people—I did not see him move—Creswell was bending over him, wiping his face with a handkerchief; that was the time they kicked him.
THOMAS TAYLOR . I am a coppersmith, of 41, Old Pye Street—about a quarter past eleven on the night of 14th March I was outside the Three Elms—I saw the door open and saw Duffy come out, and Rushton following out after, Duffy was shoving the deceased out, he had hold of his collar; he fell down and when he was on the ground I saw both the prisoners kick him—I said, "Give him a chance"—they went a little way across the road down St. Ann Street—I asked Duffy to comeback, that the man was dead, but they took no notice; they ran away—Duffy ran across the road, Rushton ran on the opposite side, and as he was running he took off his belt—I lost sight of them at the end of Peter Street.
Cross-examined by Duffy. You shovel the man out in front of you—I only saw you kick him once.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. When Watts was pushed out, I only saw Duffy holding him—Watts fell—Rushton followed directly after; close behind him—a crowd got up after; I saw no disturbance—I said at the Police-court, "Rushton made a kick at him; I could not say whether it took any effect"—I told the prisoners that the man was dead, and then they ran away—I headed the pursuit; there were four or five behind me—White had his coat off when he came out; he went and put his hand on Watts' chest.
HAROLD COOMBES (A 299). I went to the Three Elms and found Watts lying on the pavement flat on his back; he appeared to be dead; I had him put on a stretcher and taken away to the Westminster Hospital—I saw White; he appeared to be sober—he might have been drinking.
JAMES CHASE . I am a sergeant-major in the 1st Scots Guards—Duffy was a private in that regiment—in consequence of information from the police, at 8 a.m. on 15th I gave orders to the battalion to parade; immediately afterwards Duffy expressed a desire to see me, and he was brought to me; he made a statement to me which I wrote down; about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards—he said that he was in the Three Elms public-house about 11 p.m. on the 14th, the night previous, and two men of the Grenadier Guards and one man of the Medical Staff Corps, named Rushton, and another man also; one man and Rushton had an argument; there were high words, and they went out to fight; the deceased went out to see the fight; he slipped and fell, and the two men were fighting in front of him; it appeared to be an accident—there were no other men of the Scots Guards outside when the fight took place.
GEORGE WALDOCK (Sergeant A). On 15th March I took Rushton into custody at the Guards' hospital in Vincent Square—I read the charge to him, and cautioned him; he said, "I had nothing to do with the fighting; I admit being there; I suppose you have got Duffy, then"—he was afterwards identified by White and Allborough.
THOMAS GREET (Inspector A). This occurrence was brought to my knowledge on the night of the 14th—I inquired into it that night, and on the morning of the 15th I took steps to ascertain who the men were, and to have them identified—I communicated with the sergeant-major of the Scots Guards, and I afterwards saw Duffy identified by Creswell from among a number of soldiers—I cautioned him, and he said, "I shall reserve my defence until I appear before the Magistrate"—at that time he had already made a statement to the sergeant-major—Rushton was afterwards brought in, and they were charged jointly with murder—they made no reply.
ALEXANDER MACLEAN CATO . I am senior house physician at Westminster Hospital—on 14th March, at half-past twelve, Watts was brought there; he was then dead, and had been dead over a quarter of an hour, in my opinion—I made some examination of the body then; I saw a contused bruise on the chin and lip, and a deep bruise on the right side of the neck, with abrasions of the skin over it—I made a postmortem on the 16th; the organs of the chest and abdomen were healthy, with the exception of some appearances due to decomposition; there was no disease of any kind, nothing to account for death; on opening the skull there was a small bruise at the back part of the head, on the right side underneath the scalp; I found the brain very congested, especially the anterior half; on removing the brain I found an extensive extravasation of blood over the entire surface and sides of the brain and down to the posterior part of the spinal cord; also extending into the ventricles at the side of the brain—the death was due to the extravasation of blood, predisposed by the congestion caused by the alcoholic state of the deceased, and directly caused by the violent blow on the right side of the neck—the fact of his drinking would cause the veins to be more distended—the injury to the neck was such as would be very likely caused by a kick of considerable violence—there was nothing else to account for death.
Cross-examined by MR. BIRON. By his alcoholic state I mean that he had been drinking that night—there were no bruises on the body—the small injury on the chin and lip were of no consequence—I have no doubt that the cause of death was the bruise on the neck, caused by a blow or kick of very great force; very likely a kick.
Duffy, in his defence, stated that the civilians commenced the quarrel, and Creswell and the deceased interfered, and Noakes struck him; he pushed him, and the deceased asked him to come out and have it out; that he refused, and in going out the deceased slipped and fell. He denied the kicking.
Rushton received a good character.
GUILTY . DUFFY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. RUSHTON Two Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, April 10th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
SALVATORE ALLOCCA (Interpreted). I live at 4 1/2, Bath Street, Clerkenwell, and am an ice cream vendor—on 19th March, between half-past eight and nine p.m., I was in my kitchen—I heard a noise in the street and went outside and saw a crowd of fifteen or twenty people outside a public-house close to my house—I went three or four steps and I met the prisoner, who said to me, "Where are you going to, you disgusting object?"—the prisoner was alone—Raphael Tricia, the prisoners uncle, said to the prisoner, "Strike him!"—on that the prisoner drew an open knife from his pocket and struck me on the side—it was a bigger knifeman this—I received another blow at the same time from Raphael Tricia with a knife also—I only received one wound from the prisoner—I went into my house—the prisoner came in with a shovel two minutes afterwards and said, "I want to finish to kill you," lifting up the shovel—there were some barrows between us that protected me—he did not strike me with the shovel—an Italian blew a policeman's whistle, and the prisoner went away—he came back again not two minutes after when he found the policeman was not there—I saw he was infuriated like a madman, and I drew a barrow between us; seeing he could not strike me, he threw the shovel at me; it did not strike me—the prisoner ran away—I knew I was wounded—I bled much—the policeman proposed to take me to the hospital, but I said I would rather go home and have a doctor—a doctor came to see me—I am sure the prisoner is the man who stabbed me on my left Bide—there was light enough for me to see him.
Cross-examined. I know Pallumbo and Dalaromo—I did not tell them on the same evening that I did not know who stabbed me—yesterday at Clerkenwell Police-court I charged Raphael Tricia, the prisoner's uncle, with stabbing me on this same night—the Magistrate dismissed the charge—I know Mary Chicona; I do not remember speaking to her after the row—she did not ask me in my house when Dr. Gabe was present if I knew who stabbed me; I did not tell her I did not know—she lives five or six minutes' walk away from me—I did not reach the crowd—I can assign no reason for the prisoner's attacking me—I have not been frequently in the prisoner's company drinking with him in public-houses since 19th March; it is seven years since I nave been in a public-house—I have had no row with him lately, since 19th March—my brother is named Anunzia Allocca—I did not see Caccavoli in the street—I noticed no one but the prisoner with a knife in his hand—I know Caccavoli; I do not know that he has been charged with stabbing on this night at the same time that I was stabbed; they have formed a society.
Re-examined. I told nobody that I could not recognise the man who stabbed me—when I was stabbed we were away from the crowd, only Raphael was near him.
GAETANO PIRETTI (Interpreted). I live in the same house as the prosecutor, and am a ice-cream seller—at half-past eight p.m., 19th March, I was in Little Bath Street, near the prosecutor's house—I saw a row
there—I saw prisoner there, and saw the prosecutor come out of his house—no one was with the prisoner; I saw Raphael on the other side of the street—they were three or four steps from where the row was—the prisoner said, "What have you come here for?" and he gave him five or six smacks in the face with his hand—they closed, and the prisoner, in whose hand I saw an open knife like this, struck the prosecutor two blows—five or six minutes afterwards the prisoner came with a shovel, with which he began dealing blows at everybody—he struck the prosecutor on the arm with it—I know the prisoner very well; I am sure he is the man that struck the prosecutor with the knife; I was close by.
Cross-examined. I am quite sure he struck him two blows with the knife, and smacked him several times in the face, and struck him with the shovel, and cut him on the arm the first time—they went away when the policeman's whistle was blown—before that he had been beating him with the shovel—I am aware that Caccavoli was locked up; but I don't know who he stabbed—he was arrested eight or nine days afterwards—I don't know what the charge was—I was called yesterday at the Clerkenwell Police-court as a witness for the complainant against Raphael.
Re-examined. I did not see Caccavoli there on this night; I should have seen him if he had been there—when the prosecutor was stabbed only three people were close by—I was close by, and saw the prisoner stab the prosecutor.
By MR. TAYLOR. I can swear I did not see Caccavoli there—there were at least twenty people there, all Italians, and all fighting one another; there was great confusion.
ANUNZIA ALLOCCA (Interpreted). I am the prosecutor's brother—at half-past eight p.m. on 19th last March I was in a public-house in Little Bath Street with the prisoner, Raphael, the prosecutor, Raphael Allocca, and another Allocca—we had a bit of a dispute in the public-house, and went into the street, where the dispute went on—when there is confusion people accumulate—I saw the prisoner strike the prosecutor with a knife which I saw in his hand; it might have been this knife or another, as it was dark; it was open—only one blow was given; it was on the shoulder—there was an enormous lot of people about—the prisoner returned shortly afterwards with a shovel and began to strike—he struck the prosecutor on the arm, and struck him six or seven times with the shovel—there were barrows there, and instead of striking the prosecutor, he struck the barrows—I went to assist my brother when he was stabbed—I saw blood on his shoulder and hip—he fell down—after the. prisoner struck my brother with the shovel he ran away—I am perfectly certain it was the prisoner who wounded my brother with a knife.
Cross-examined. There was great confusion at the time; people were not pushing about—Caccavoli was arrested six nights afterwards for stabbing a man on the night that the prosecutor was stabbed—I know him; he has not been here to-day—I used to lodge with him—I knew that the prisoner was arrested for this offence on the following Monday—I did not give evidence before the Magistrate, because I was not called; my brother spoke to me about it from the day he received the blow.
Re-examined. I saw Caccavoli there on the night my brother was stabbed; he did not stab him, the prisoner did, I am certain.
quarter to eight on 19th. March I was called to 4 1/2, Little Bath Street, Clerkenwell, and went there with my assistant immediately—I saw the prosecutor on a bed—he had an incised wound over the left shoulder-blade, extending to the bone, but there was very little flesh there—it was about 1 in. long—it is not serious; it might have gone into the lung if the bone against which the instrument struck had not been there—he had another incised wound on the left loin, perhaps 1 1/2 in. long and at least 1 1/2 in. deep—I was afraid to probe further because it was in rather a dangerous position, near the bowel and kidney; there was a good deal of blood from it, but I could not say it was dangerous—a knife such as this might have caused it, without very much force being applied—the prosecutor has been in danger, but is better now—both wounds bled, but the lower one bled the more—he was in a state of collapse, when I saw him, from loss of blood—he had an abrasion on his left arm from the elbow to the wrist—it might have been done by a shovel or by a fall.
Cross-examined. The abrasion on the arm might have been done by a stick—I was in the house some little time—Mrs. Chicona was there with a baby in her arms, and about twenty Italians were there, all speaking at the same time—I ordered them out of the room; they would not go—I asked Mrs. Chiconi to ask who did it, and the impression I had of the answer (I cannot say exactly what she said) was that the prosecutor did not know who it was—my impression was that the prosecutor did not know who had done it, but that his son did; they were all talking at the same time, and it was very difficult to understand what was said—the prosecutor spoke in Italian—I could not understand him; but my impression was he did not know.
WILLIAM BLIGHT (Detective Sergeant G). At about nine on 2nd April I saw the prisoner at the Queen's Head public-house, Warner Street, Clerkenwell, and took him into custody—the prosecutor's son and several Italians were there—the prisoner said something in Italian, looking towards the boy Antonio Allocca—I took him to the station, where he was charged—he replied through an interpreter, "I did not do it, and I know nothing about it"—I searched and found this knife in his right hand trousers pocket.
By the COURT. I could not find the prisoner sooner; he had left the neighbourhood—this knife had no marks on it.
ANTONIO ALLOCCA . I am the prosecutor's son—I was present when the prisoner was arrested—I understand Italian—he said in Italian, "Your father is going to take me up, and when I come out I will kill him." Cross-examined. The police constable did not ask me what he said; I did not translate it to him—I did not tell my father what the prisoner had said, because a man named Leonardi, who was there, told my father on 2nd April, the day the prisoner was arrested—neither he nor I was called before the Magistrate—I have not said a word to my father about this—I was in Court when the prisoner was before the Magistrate—I did not tell anybody in Court that the prisoner threatened to kill my father—I have not talked this case over with anybody.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I struck him with a stick, but not with a knife."
Witnesses for the Defence.
disturbance among the Italians took place, I saw the prisoner there with a stick, but no knife; the stick was not very big—the prosecutor was there; they were all in a fight together—no one used a knife—there were about twenty Italians making a disturbance in the road, but only about two were fighting—Caccavolli I know by sight, not name—a man was charged with stabbing, last Wednesday week—I was to be a witness—I saw him with a knife in his hand on 19th March at the time of the fight; he used the knife on a man, not on the prosecutor—the prisoner did not use a knife, I should have seen it if he had done so.
Cross-examined. I was out on an errand for my father, and went to see what it was—I was not near the prisoner; he was further back than the others—I was not looking at him all the time; I could see he was fighting; I was looking on—he went indoors—I saw one man stabbed, and that was in the row—I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand but a small stick—I saw nobody with a shovel.
Re-examined. I was outside the crowd—as they fought from the beerhouse they went towards the prisoner's door.
LIZZIE BLACKWELL . I live at 23, Cromer Street—on 19th March I was with the last witness coming down Eyre Street Hill, and I saw a disturbance between about twenty Italians—they were scuffling about together; there was great confusion—I was not present when Caccavoli was charged—a man was locked up—I saw one of the Italians take something from his pocket and stab another Italian, not the prosecutor, under the arm—I did not notice the prisoner there; he was not the man that drew the knife.
Cross-examined. My attention was drawn to the whole crowd—I did not notice one man more than the others.
MARIAN CHICONA . My husband is an ice-cream vendor; we live at 1, Caroline Place—on 19th March I went into the prosecutor's house with him—I asked him, "Who was it that stabbed you? whoever stabbed you make them pay dearly for it"—he answered "I don't know who stabbed me"—he was conscious—I also spoke to his son.
Cross-examined. When I went to the house Dr. Gabe was in the room, and he asked me to ask the people to got out, and he said, "Ask him who stabbed him" and I did so, and he said he did not know—he was on the bed; he was not in a fainting state—he knew me, and could answer.
ANTONIO PALLUMBO (Interpreted). I am an ice-cream vendor, a padrone—on 19th March I asked the prosecutor what was the matter that he was rowing with the people—he said, "For my fault of going to see what the row was I received two blows or two stabs "—I asked him who had done it; he said he did not know.
Cross-examined. He was not very ill; he was talking loudly, making a noise with people that were fighting with his brother—he was not fighting; they were two steps from my house—it would not have been dangerous for him to say who stabbed him.
GUISEPPE DALLAROMO . I live at 9, Eyre Street Hill, and am an organ grinder—on 19th March I was with Pallumbo, and we saw the prosecutor shouting a step away from his house—Pallumbo said to him, "You had better finish this; you are all Italians"—the prosecutor said, "What can I finish it for when I have received two stabs?"—Pallumbo said, "You had better go indoors before you get something
else"—Pallumbo asked who did it, and the prosecutor answered that he did not know.
J. REECE GABE (Re-examined). When Mrs. Chicona spoke to the prosecutor he was perfectly conscious and intelligent, and understood what was going on—they spoke in Italian—it was at my request she asked him.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, April 10th and 11th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
357. SAMUEL VICTOR MORLEY, alias MARKS , alias E. CHARLES (56), and ELIZABETH CLIFFORD , Unlawfully obtaining from Robert Margerison Hobson certain deeds of title by false pretences. Other Counts, for conspiracy.
ROBERT MARGERISON HOBSON . I live at Ealing Dean—I am not in business—I am the freeholder of a farm of 100 acres at Ambledon, in Hampshire—on 30th December I saw this advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, "Farm, wanted to purchase, not more than two hours from London," etc.—I wrote this letter the same day, describing my farm, and saying, "The price is £1,650, or I am open to a reasonable offer"—I addressed that to E. Charles, and in reply received this letter. (From Miss E. Clifford, 11, Bloomsbury Square, stating that she thought the farm would suit her, and inquiring whether the witness would take a portion in cash and the rest in a reversion)—I replied on,5th January, telling her I should prefer cash, but no doubt we might come to terms—on the same day I received this letter. (Signed E. Clifford, and requesting the witness to send her an order to see the farm)—I wrote to her on 6th January, stating that I should be in London one day in the week, and would call on her, a ad received this reply: "6th January. Dear Sir,—I shall be pleased to see you here at three o'clock on Thursday.—E. CLIFFORD"—on Thursday, 8th January, I went to 11, Bloomsbury Square, and saw the prisoner I Clifford—I told her I had come in reference to the farm—nobody eke was present—she said, "The gentleman who attends to my business will be here directly"—she requested me to wait, and left the room—I waited about ten minutes, and then the prisoner Morley came in in a great hurry with his top coat on, I understood his name was E. Charles—i he said, "I am sorry I cannot stay with you at present; I have to go off to Bristol directly; however, you can give me a few particulars"—I gave him some particulars of the farm, and he suddenly walked across from the fireplace and pointed to photographs of winding, up apparatus for a pit, and said, "Miss Clifford is a rich lady; she has £25,000 in this colliery, which is paying a large percentage; we have only one shaft at present; we have gone through two seams of coal, and come upon a third one, which is a very good one; we shall have three more shafts, and then we expect to pay thirty-five per cent., and we shall be able to get any amount of coal"—he also said that Miss Clifford had £5,000 in another security, and that her father had left her a large amount of money, and that she wanted the farm for a hobby, to rear poultry—he said, "You understand
how the payment is to be made?"—I said, "Yes"—he requested me to send him a plan of the farm, and not to sell it till he had seen it—I then went away—on 11th January I sent a plan of the farm in a letter to Miss E. Clifford, and on 30th January I sent her this letter. (Asking her, or anyone she might appoint, to meet him at Petersfield, and go and see the farm)—I got this reply from her; it is in the same writing. (Asking the witness to meet him at Waterloo Station, to go down and see the farm)—I received a telegram the same night, and went to Waterloo next morning at 9.30, and met Morley—I asked where Miss Clifford was—he said, "She is not very well this morning, and she has left the matter entirely in my hands; whatever I advise her to do she will do"—when we got into the train he said, "I have a better thing for you than the part payment mentioned in the letter and the reversion; it is to transfer to you the amount of the purchase-money from some of Miss Clifford's shares in the colliery company, 25,000, it will pay you better"—I made no reply—he then said, "Miss Clifford is a curious tempered woman, but she is a dear creature; I have known her ever since she was fifteen years old, and I have managed all her business affairs for her; you must leave the matter to me," giving me to understand that she might throw up the farm—I suppose he meant if I vexed her—he said he had bought 1,800 acres of land near Bristol—I said, "What interest have you in the colliery in shares?"—he said, "I and my family have £50,000 in it myself, my wife, and my daughter, son-in-law, and two nieces"—I asked him what it cost to raise the coal at the pit's mouth—he said, "6s. and we are selling them at 20s. "—I said, "What percentage did it pay last year? "—he said, "Eight to nine per cent., which they were using for working expenses"—I said, "How long has the pit been opened?"—he said, "Sixteen months, twelve months last October, and the £25,000 capital was left untouched"—I said if the purchase was complete I should require my solicitor to carry it through—he said, "We can do without a solicitor; my solicitor has gone out of town for a fortnight, and he has left me a blank form to fill in and a copy of all that is necessary, and it will save us £25 apiece; you do not want to throw away £25"—I said no—I went to the farm with him—he expressed himself satisfied with it, but made some complaints about the dilapidations—I said I would knock him off £50 for that—he said, "Oh no, Miss Clifford is a rich lady, and she will pay for the repairs; bring your deeds to Bloomsbury Square to-morrow morning at 10.30"—next morning I went to 11, Bloomsbury Square, and saw Miss Clifford—directly afterwards Morley came in—he said, "I have given Miss Clifford the full particulars of your farm, and I have advised her to buy it at the price, £1,650; now let us look at the deeds"—I objected; I said, "I prefer to go to my solicitor"—he said, "We can manage it for ourselves, and save £25 apiece each; I assure you, Mr. Hobson, it is a genuine thing we offer you"—I said to Miss Clifford, "Is it perfectly true that you have £25,000 invested in this colliery?"—she said, "It is perfectly true"; and on the faith of that statement I showed them my deeds—they looked at them, and Morley said to her, "You see, my dear, Mr. Hobson has given so-and-so," naming the purchase-money that appeared on the face of the deed—it was £910, and he said, "If I give 5s. for that table and sell it for £20, that has nothing to do with the purchaser"—he also showed Miss Clifford the
amount the late owner had given for the property, and remarked that the late vendor had given almost as much as I say; the late vendor gave £1,600, and I said, "£1,650 after laying out a lot of money there"—Morley read portions of the deed to Miss Clifford, and asked her if she was perfectly satisfied—she said, "Yes"—he said, "Let us draw up the transfer" and produced a blank form headed "This indenture," and also a draft copy which he said the solicitor left him a copy of—I then wrote at his dictation—Miss Clifford went in and out of the room—when we came to the recital of the purchase-money Morley said, "You had better ask him how he will have it"—he said I was to have 2,000 in shares fully paid up—I objected to that—he said, "We will allow you 350:250 to purchase the stock on the farm and 100 to pay to Miss Clifford in cash for the dilapidations"—I said I should show the document to my solicitor before signing it—I went on writing, and almost directly Morley said, "My dear, give Mr. Hobson something to drink"—I said I would rather not have anything to drink while I was writing, but she shortly brought a tumbler about one-third full of whisky and soda water—I drank a little and then went on writing, and shortly afterwards drank the rest, and I very soon became confused and said, "This affects my head," and put the pen down—I was some Utile time before I could proceed—Morley said, "It will do you no harm, you will soon be all right," and urged me to go on—I seemed to lose my self-possession—I completed the document and signed it, and executed it, putting my finger on the seal—there was no one there to witness the signature, but a man came in afterwards and sat down at the table—I did not see him sign his name—Miss Clifford took the paper up from the front of him immediately he sat down, and he and Miss Clifford went into another room—Miss Clifford returned in about two minutes, and brought the document back, but I do not remember seeing the man again—I did not see a witness's name appended to the document—Miss Clifford said the man was demented, and could not write before other people—I understood her to say afterwards that he was her brother—besides this document, I signed this document B on 4th February—this pencil memorandum is also my writing—I did not sign this document (another)—that is Mr. Jackson's signature—I left the document signed by Jackson with Morley—Jackson signed it in my presence at the Railway Inn—this is my signature to this document D—I signed that on February 4th—I see that it is dated February 3rd:—"Dear Sir,—Having sold the farm to Miss Clifford, this shall be your authority to deliver up the same to that lady or her order. To Mr. E. A. Jackson. Please surrender the lease. "—the-pencil memorandum is the valuation of the stock—I left that with Morley—the next is "E. M. Hobson, Esq.:—Dear Sir,—In consideration of your selling the farm I hold of you, and not giving my name as tenant, I agree to give up the lease whenever you may require it.—E. A. JACKSON"—Jackson signed that at the New Inn, Petersfield, in Morley's presence—the next document is dated from Broughton House. (This was signed by the witness, agreeing to sell his farm of 100 acres for 2,000 fully paid-up shares in the Bristol Colliery Company, stock and seeds included, and agreeing to allow £100 back for regain of the buildings)—that was written at 4, Bloomsbury Square, at Morley's dictation, after the conveyance—after that I went in a cab, at Morley's request, to Downs' office—Morley had told me he was the manager of the company, and had £25,000 in it—I do not know whether that was at 53,
Cheapside—we did not see Downs—he handed somebody a document—there were two clerks—we went into an inner room, and Morley left me and took the documents with him—after he came out I received a document—the clerk brought it—I do not know whether this is it, but I think it is. (This was a receipt, dated 4th February, of a share certificate in the Bristol Midland Colliery Company, to be transferred from the name of Miss E. Clifford to that of the witness)—we then went back in a cab to Bloomsbury Square—Morley had promised me some papers in reference to the mine previous to drawing up a transfer, and he was looking for them and asked Miss Clifford to give me another glass—I said, "No, thank you," because I had not got over the effects of the other—he said, "We must have a parting glass"—we did so, and I went away—on the same day I went to my solicitor, Mr. Bell—he wrote these two letters (produced)—I went with him to 11, Bloomsbury Square to see them delivered the same evening, 4th February. (This demanded the return of the contract by twelve o'clock next day to prevent further proceedings; the other was a similar letter addressed to Miss Clifford)—he gave me a number of papers together, but I did not look at them—I gave them to my solicitor.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. The prospectus was among the papers he gave me after I came back in the cab. (At MR. WADDY'S request the witness wrote his name and address in pencil)—I do not remember a clerk at the company's office asking me to write my name and address—this (produced) looks like my writing, but I do not remember doing it—it was through the whisky—I was so far gone that I was not in the possession of my faculties properly, or I should not have signed it—I never said, to my knowledge, to the clerk that it would be more convenient to me to dispose of the £2,000 in smaller quantities, or I should be glad if he would make them out in twenty £100 shares—I think it to be an entire fabrication—my word is as good as yours—I was two or three days before I could pull myself together, after the last lot, I can bring witnesses to prove I was not able to make a statement for two or three days—the first glass discomposed me for a time, and as the result of the second glass, I went to my solicitor, but I could scarcely give him an account—I had partly recovered then—I do not know that I went straight to him—I do not know which way I did go—I took no one with me—he had no one else to get information from except me—I told him I had parted with the deeds, and there were the papers—he and I then went to Bloomsbury Square, but I had got a good deal better then—Mr. Bell had not been my solicitor before this—I went to another solicitor first, and he went with me to Mr. Bell's office—I have not two, one was a solicitor's clerk—I went to him because I had been to him on the Monday, and shown him all my letters, and what I was doing, and I was going to have the conveyance submitted to him—I seriously attribute my making this bargain to the result of the liquor I had as regards the signing of the document—if I had never had the drink I should never have signed it, but if it had been pure whisky it never would have had that effect on me—I mentioned that to my solicitor, and left it entirely to him—the first solicitor I went to was Mr. Toone—he is the head clerk to the Official Solicitor, at the High Court, Mr. Pemberton—Mr. Toone went with me to Mr. Bell—I first knew where the colliery was when I began to read the transfer on 4th February—he said it was near Bristol, but I had not
heard the name of it—I first heard it on the 3rd, when he said he had 1,800 acres—that is my impression—he had not told me when he first gave me the photograph that it was the Mangotsfield Colliery, but he said he was going down to Bristol—it is not the fact that an arrangement was made with Mr. Jackson, the tenant, to get him out in consequence of the prisoners desire to enter into possession of the farm—I had not seen Miss Clifford then—that was in anticipation of selling the farm—the transfer was the first document I signed—the man who came into the room did not witness it, he did not see it—I intended to take it to my solicitor, and should have done so if I had not had the drink—I did not have the drink before I began to write—this was not a copy of my own assignment from the previous vendor, it was a solicitor's draft—my memory is quite clear about that—it is a pack of lies to say that I copied the previous transfer—I have not been in business any further than being apprenticed to the wholesale drapery trade thirty-one years ago; ever since that I have been living on my means—this document (D) was written after the transfer; I was not then in the possession of my faculties; I do not remember dictating it, or putting my address to it; I only remember the purport of it—I cannot tell why it was dated February 3rd; it was all written at his dictation—I had begun to write this document, sitting at the table before the whisky and soda was offered to me—I had had the farm two years—I never got a penny rent for it; I allowed that for fencing—I let it to Mr. Jackson at £65 a year—I do not think I had offered it for sale before, but I should only have been too glad to sell it—I did not think Morley was endeavouring to make the best bargain he could for Miss Clifford, or he would have offered me a-lower price; I thought he was acting in a bona-fide way—he said the farm was cheap—they were to pay for the dilapidations out of the £350—the £100 was out of their money—I believed this was a genuine colliery, and if it was paying 8 or 9 per cent. I should have been satisfied—Morley gave me a number of papers, and I believe this prospectus was among them; but I have never seen it; I never saw one of the papers.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I suspected that the whisky was drugged the same evening when I was coming to; it was Irish—I said at the Police-court, "The attesting witness appeared to make a muddle of it when he sat down"—it did not strike me that Morley was anxious that I should not see Miss Clifford about the purchase of the farm; when he said she had a very peculiar temper, I took it that I must not quibble about the price or about any statement she might make.
Re-examined. I never saw this document before in my life (produced); it was not read over to me—by a genuine colliery I understood paying a certain percentage—I was induced to accept colliery shares instead of money by her representation that the coal cost six shillings at the pit's mouth, and sold for twenty shillings; and that Miss Clifford had £25,000 invested in it which was untouched—Morley never suggested to me that I should take less than 1,650—I had been to Mr. Toone on the previous Monday, and showed him all the letters—on the Wednesday when I referred to my solicitor, he was the person I had in my mind; I did not know Mr. Bell then—Mr. Toone was the gentleman I intended to see—I had made an arrangement with him on the Monday, but drink altered my mind as to going to him—I say that document D was signed after
the deed was signed—it is dated February 3rd, but the date of the stamp which has been put on it is 10-2-91—I cannot remember what was in the deed; it was not a copy of the previous one; it will speak for itself—I made a statement to my solicitor about the damages, and Mr. Fulton knew of it also—it was prepared in the usual way by the solicitor.
SAMUEL HAYMAN . I am a clerk at Somerset House—I produce the register of the British Midland Colliery Company; it was registered on 16th August, 1890—this is the memorandum of association—there are seven signatories—this is the notice of the original fees and of the charge—the memorandum of association refers to an agreement between Charles Downs and Arthur Harlow, and it states that the nominal capital on which duty was paid was £100,000 in £1 shares—there is no contract—if there were one it ought to be filed.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. There is no list of shareholders.
CHARLES DOWNS . I am secretary of the British Midland Colliery Company, Limited, for the time being; I do not think I shall remain; I became secretary about six weeks since—they bank at the National Bank, Old Broad Street—there is a minute in the minute-book on 8th February: "Mr. Waller, the secretary, having resigned, Mr. Charles Downs is appointed"—there was an agreement between me and Harlow on behalf of the company, and I appeared in the contract nominally as the vendor—I proposed to sell this property to the company; I had no such property to sell—Miss Hart, a niece of Mr. Morley, was the vendor—I have never seen any title-deeds of hers to the property—I acted because Morley asked me if I objected to become nominal vendor for Miss Hart, and I said if everything was right I would—the consideration was £175,000 in shares (reading the agreement), "£100,000 in cash, and £75,000 in debentures, forming part of an issue"—we are not a public company—I never received any portion of the £100,000 in cash—I paid nothing—I noticed this passage that I, as the vendor, agreed to take 75,000 debentures, the rest to be offered to the public, but it has not been done—I have seen documents showing the title to the property, a solicitor having advanced money on them—he was satisfied—I saw the lease—I believe it is not in the company's possession now—I have seen it at Mr. Hodnot's, the solicitor, office (produced)—I do not think this is it—I have seen another—I have very likely seen one from Mr. Scott to Mr. Hands—I consulted solicitors, and acted under their advice—I saw a document proving Mr. Hands' title—I left it with my solicitor—there was a register of shareholders—I do not think I have written in it, because the books have been impounded in the Police-court—since I have been secretary nobody has paid anything for shares—this is the register of shareholders—Morley does not appear upon it as a shareholder—Miss Hart, of 23, Brunswick Terrace, Brighton, appears as a shareholder for 25,340 shares—Mrs. Hart, of 25, Brunswick Terrace, Brighton, also appears: she has 1,500 shares, and E. Clifford, of 11, Bloomsbury Square, 27,000—Mr. B. Hart, of 23, Brunswick Terrace, Brighton, is entered in respect of 25,000 shares—there is no trace in any of the documents of the company showing that any of those persons ever paid a farthing for any of those shares, and as far as I know they have not—on 4th April I received a letter from Mr. Bell, the solicitor—I do not think I have been subpoenaed to produce it—I have not answered it—this is the minute-book—a board meeting was held on February 6th, 1891—
it says, "Mr. R. M. Hobson having brought to us these shares for £27,000, we request to have the said shares transferred to him"—the secretary was instructed not to deliver them till the transfer was in order—this is the letter Mr. Bell referred to—the chairman entered the minutes—I am responsible for them—the company did not issue the shares to Mr. Hobson because of the letter from Mr. Bell—I cannot explain how there is no reference to it in the minutes—it is an omission, I should think—he found there was a dispute, and we held our hands, and we did not go any further—it is very probable that I handed the letter from Mr. Bell to the prisoner Morley because he was acting all the way through for Miss Hart, and any matter came before him instead of before Miss Hart—my letter and the reply were found in Morley's possession when he was arrested—this is Mr. Bell's letter tome, and my answer on the back of it—no doubt I sent it on to him—Morley was acquainted with everything connected with the company, it all went to him—I believe the pass-book is here—the balance is small—it is on the right side—it shows £216 and £103 out on February 27th—I have not made it my business, but I think £10 has been drawn since—I am not aware it is overdrawn—the company did not pay any dividend last year.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. This colliery was a speculation from the beginning—it was worked some years ago by two men who earned their £6 or £7 a week, and sat down and spent it—my attention was first called to the matter by Mr. Alfred Scott—I have heard that Morley is—an undischarged bankrupt, and for him to take up the matter in his own name was impossible—he has to my knowledge advanced a great amount of knowledge and labour and capital—he has found several thousand pounds either from his own resources or from his friends—he may have spent £7,000 or £8,000—when I was first required to act I went to the place, and went down the shaft—I made inquiry with regard to its position and prospects before I consented to have anything to do with it—I have given time, attention, and labour to it, and have never received a penny—I have put cash into it, and in lieu of salary I am the registered holder of 3,000 or 3,500 shares—it has never been put on the public market—it is the intention to keep it in the hands of the private shareholders as a source of income, instead of letting it out to the world—I have from time to time applied for and received the reports on the mine of eminent civil and mining engineers—Mr. Stuart, M. D., is a man of eminence of Oldlands, near Bristol, and I think I received copies of the report from Morgans, of Bristol, and in addition to that there was the engineer of the company, Mr. Alfred Scott, and Mr. Henderson—the colliery was reported once by the Commissioners of 1886 in their report on the coal in the United Kingdom—I went down and viewed it, and have been down to watch the progress several times to see whether the coals were there the first time, and the second time from the notice of the Government that we must brick up the lining of the shafts—they were only six ft. in diameter, and they are now ten—it is in the red sandstone—my opinion is that it is a very valuable property, and I think it will be proved so—I have been surveyor for thirty years—I never was much in the colliery line, only as they came to me in the ordinary way of business—I formed my opinion in a very great measure by the surrounding lot—our company have a colliery within one hundred yards from which we are bringing up coal—I should not say that the property
is worth one penny less than £80,000, but it will be doubled in July when we have gone a few feet further—we have had an action before Mr. Justice Stirling, in the Chancery Division, not only as to our right to the property, but our right to the next, and the result is that we have got it—it is part of the same property—it is in the lease of 1,800 acres—the man in possession has been turned out, and we are working that very coal—we believe we are nearing a seam of four feet six in width—we have opened two other seams—I think the geological map is here showing the slate we have actually gone through—we have increased the amount from six feet to ten, and have also sunk another shaft as an auxiliary—all that required a considerable expenditure of money, and it is requiring it still—there is what is called fault in the strata—that makes no difference in our finding the coal, but it may be 60 ft. lower—the idea that a fault renders it impossible to get the coal is absurd—I have not paid for my 3,000 shares, but I have given money, labour, and time—Mr. Morley and I are responsible for the expenses yet to come—debentures have been issued to the extent of, it may be, £55,000, and the interest has been paid—judging from the strata and taking the fault into account, we are on one side of the fault, and we have certain strata on the other side—we shall have the same strata pushed down or drawn up—we can tell pretty well how far we are from the bed of coal, it is about 20 ft.—that will cost about £300—we shall then have got enough—we do not want to go lower—the colliery is in the parish of Mangotsfield—that is the junction of the railway to Bath and Bristol at the point of a triangle—our area runs up to the railway, and they can lay down a line of rails at any time—it is bounded on one side by the Midland Railway and on the other by the collieries of the late Mr. Handel Cosbam, which are very valuable mines—we have an old servant who was with him thirty-two years as underground engineer, and he has reported to us upon it—the pit is somewhere about ninety yards deep—under Mr. Justice Stirling's decree we have got power to use one shaft—there are two shafts there—the former manager was turned out and another manager put in, and we are working the whole—we are working the second seam at about eighty-four yards down, and there was an output from that of 100 to 200" tons a day when we were at full work—it might cost 5s. 6d. a ton delivered at the bank—we are selling it now at 14s.—the third seam is about the same depth and two feet thick—that makes 14s. a ton as well, and it has made 15s.—we are making 15s. now, but I take off a shilling for casual expenses—supposing we do get everything at work, so that we could attract capital, there is nothing to prevent our raising from 300 to 500 tons from the third seam—Mr. Henderson was in charge of the colliery, and working it before we got the decree from Mr. Justice Stirling—he was called at the Police-court—he has been turned out in consequence of the decree—if he had made a report like this I should agree with him entirely.
Re-examined. I wrote this letter (produced) to Mr. Morley. (Agreeing to act as trustee for Miss Hart, and to transfer all the scrip and debentures on condition of receiving 1,000 debentures in the company)—I got a further 3,500, for which I paid nothing—Mr. Hands had refused to act—he was to be the nominal vendor, as I was—there are two shafts on the new colliery, and two on the old; it was formerly the Downend Colliery, but not now—I got the decree a month back; it has always been called the Mangotsfield
Colliery—the property is accurately described on the prospectus—two shafts are described on the prospectus, although there are four on the property—under the lease the company is entitled to all the seams of coal I have described, barring the two first, which are in the new colliery—Mr. Alfred Scott sub-leased the colliery to Hands—Morley managed the company; he assisted to brine it out—I am the vendor to the company—Mr. Scott leased to Miss Hands—the title of the company is Scott and Grant; the celebrated Baron Grant—Scott got the decree, and is in possession now—Mr. Scott does not own all the seams in the colliery; Mr. Hudson managed; he owns three, the upper ones, an area of 25 acres only—in one colliery we only own the upper seams and in the other the lower seams—we should have been down, but we were stopped by the Government surveyor on account of it not being safe, unless we bricked up—Morley never had possession of Hands' colliery; Miss Hands obtained it about eighteen months since—I think the lease between Scott and Hands is dated December 31st, 1889—£8,000 or £9,000 has been spent on it since, because all the machinery and everything has been erected since—I cannot say where the money came from; it was taken down every week, I believe, by Mr. Morley, and provided some money; I paid about £350 for the company—I have got no receipt for it—I paid by cheque; I have not got the cheques here; they were payable to Mr. Scott and Mr. Morley—I paid cheques six or seven months ago—the directors were, myself, Mr. Joseph Trew, Mr. Samuel Cross, of Brixton, who is dead; Mr. Newman, who is the freeholder of the property, he is eighty-six and unable to travel, and never attended any meetings; and Mr. Nichols, of Bristol; Mr. Scott, solicitor—I do not think Morley is a shareholder or a director; he did not attend the board meetings, but he has been there beforehand—Mr. Close attended the meetings—this entry in the minute-book of 13th January is correct, "Mr. Morley having presented his account claiming £1,046 from the company for money advanced, and having requested payment by bills, the board reserves his account for further consideration, etc. "—I cannot say whether Mr. Scott is or is not the owner of the colliery which we got under Justice Stirling's decree; there is something to be explained; he is bound, to hand over the colliery on certain said items, which I believe are in writing.
By the COURT. The 45,000 debentures have not been taken up, they were handed over to certain parties, and the coupons have been paid there was a previous company; there are some debentures outside the company which are provided for; some capital was raised outside, it was furnished by persons who took up the debentures—these coupons were paid by cheque on the bank—forty or fifty men are at work now on the united property, and about the same number on the original property.
NEVILLE JAMES BLAKE . I am an officer of the National Bank, Old Broad Street—I produce a copy, of the account of the Bristol and Midlands Colliery, Limited, with our bank—I have compared it with the books; it is complete up to February 27th—it was opened on September 27th with a payment of £50, and on December 31st the balance was £6 1s. 1d.—the balance at the end of the account is £82 16s. 5d.; but at the present moment it is overdrawn.
Cross-examined. It became overdrawn in March, after they had
attacked Morley and put him in custody—on that very day £50 was paid in; that was the last credit.
By the COURT. The account has not been operated on much—there was about £60 for three coupons—it does not appear where the £60 came from; it is merely cash.
THOMAS ROBERTSON (Detective Sergeant, Bristol). On 25th February I went to the Bristol and Midland Company's mine at Mangotsfield—twelve or fourteen men were at work, some bricking one shaft and some sinking another—I went down the shaft—no coal was being got out—there was lifting machinery, winding apparatus to let down bricks and bring up rubbish—it was not being used to bring up coal—I went again on March 6th, and they were still bricking and sinking—I have known the place fifteen or sixteen years, and well for ten years—the shaft was opened before my recollection, but it has never been bricked before.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. They had been stopped from getting coal by the Government—I was told that they had Government orders to brick the shaft, and they had twelve men in the two shafts, not including the manager—the manager gave me every facility in inspecting the mine, and told me all they were doing—I knew when I went on 55th February that Morley was in custody.
By the COURT. This is a coal mine—I saw one seam of coal fifteen feet from the surface, and the roof had fallen in in some parts, and being so near the surface I understood it would not be worked any further—this was a shaft for the purpose of raising coal—the shaft was fifteen yards deep—I cannot think of any reason for sinking such a shaft except for the purpose of raising coal—I only saw one seam—I found the men diligently at work; that was preliminary to the raising of coal.
Re-examined. I cannot say of my own knowledge that coal has been got out during the ten years I have known the place, but it is evident that coal has been got out—it was abandoned for some time.
MATTHEW HENDERSON . I am a mining engineer of Mangotsfield—I have known the colliery claimed by the Bristol and Midlands Colliery Company for the last two and a-half years; I have not been down; I have been to the mouth of the shaft several times—it has not been worked so as to pay any percentage for two and a half years—it is from ten to twelve acres; it is all private property around it except ten or twelve acres—I know Morley—he sent for me to an hotel last spring, and told me they had about 2,000 acres, and he had given £60,000 for it—I said I was sorry to hear it, for they had no acreage there—he said Newman and Scott were responsible for that—I know Scott, and told Morley his name was not Scott, it was Tooth, and Mr. Newman and Mr. Nichols knew it—that is Mr. Scott. (Pointing to him)—I told him that Baron Grant was going to stop it, and he would be the dupe; that there was not likely to be any coal in the Midland Colliery, and I was sorry for him—since I saw him in March they have raised fifty or sixty tons of coal, which was used for the engine—I am not aware that they sold any—so far as I know, no coal has been got since—I did not know Morley before this; he asked me what our colliery was likely to turn out, and to give him a memorandum to show his friend Mr. Hands.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. I was then manager of the District of Bristol Colliery Company—that had nothing to do with the colliery with which Morley is connected; his was the Bristol and Downend Colliery
Company—ours is the Mangotsfield Colliery—if Morley purchased the Mangotsfield Colliery it was not ours; they were both known as the Mangotsfield Colliery—I was the manager of the company which was working that part of the colliery; I am not manager now, because the colliery has been transferred to Mr. Scott's son with a mortgage of £2,000 on it—the shaft is between 400 and 500 yards from the shaft I used to work; some seams cropped up a few feet from the surface; we did not touch till 84 yards, there is a fault, and the seam we did not reach till 84 yards down; they reached at 15 yards down—I proposed to Mr. Morley that he should take our colliery, and thought at the time it would be a reasonably fair speculation for him—I do not think so now; I recommended our people to dispose of it six months after I went there; that was about the time I recommended Morley to buy it; I did not exactly know the extent of it then—it was 25 acres, under Emmett's lease, but it was understood at the time that they had 750 acres—I understood that there was more than 25 acres which the company intended to work—I was the manager until the decree; I ceased to be so by the order of the secretary—the fault in the vein was all on the other side—there is nothing more uncertain than when or how you may come upon a fault—I reported to Mr. Morley that the deep pit was 90 yds. deep, and that we were working the second seam of coal at 84 yds., which was 3 ft. 6 in. thick, and that taking it at 100 to 200 tons a day it would not cost 4s. 6d. a ton; delivered at bank it would cost about 5s. 6d.—it is true that we were working the third seam at 2 ft. thick, and that it was very hard good household coal, and that there were several other seams about 20 yds. deep, and that if the property had sufficient hands to work it it would make an output of 300 or 400 tons a day; that was on the supposition that the other 750 acres would be added.
Re-examined. The Mangotsfield series of seams are not on the geographical survey; the Parkfield seams are—they are the series which are worked in the neighbourhood—no colliery worked the seam except the one I am manager of—the Mangotsfield series are below the Parkfield series; they are called the lower series—these mines were worked by the district of Bristol Colliery Company, the leaseholders; Mr. Emmett is the freeholder—the ownership of the Bristol and Downend Colliery is separate and distinct from ours; they are not adjoining; there are ten acres between the two—two seams of coal were never worked together during my knowledge—the Bristol and Downend Mine is threequarters of a mile to a mile from any railway—Mangotsfield is a colliery village—only these two are called Mangotsfield Collieries; ours is a private property—on the morning the colliery was transferred to Mr. Scott, Mr. Nichols brought an order to Mr. Cripp, the agent, made out in the name of the secretary of the company—this report which has been put in relates to our mine, the other has not been worked at all; no coal has been sold—in the Bristol and Downend Colliery the coal falls down and leaves the inside of it without any coal; one part of the valley runs down close to the colliery and another part towards Bath—the effect of the anteclinal fault would be that the coal would be more broken.
By the COURT. I give that opinion as a skilled person, as a mining engineer; a person who is not a mining engineer would not be able to ascertain all that, and unless he took the best local opinion he would be
likely to get into trouble: it "would be a toss-up—there might be some alteration between that which would be favourable and that which would be unfavourable: in the neighbourhood of faults it is known.
ARTHUR HARLOW . I acted as secretary of the Bristol and Midland Colliery Company from August 6, 1890, the date of its registration—I was present at the meetings of the directors—Morley was present at all the meetings; he was not a shareholder, and therefore could not be a director—no money was paid for shares by any person—the shares were illegally issued; in any case the certificate bears the title fully paid—I have experience as a secretary of limited companies—£50 was all that came from the coffers of the company while I was there, which came from Mr. Morley; besides the shares, debentures were issued to bearer and given to Morley, but not to anyone else that I am aware of—Morley informed me that he had liquidated his own personal accounts with them, and several persons whom he had given debentures to called on me afterwards—I did not see Miss Clifford till I saw her at the Police-court—I know by the share list that she is a shareholder—Morley described her as a lady of considerable means, and that she acted as his nominee, and enjoined me to say so should inquiries be made—he told me that she lived at 11, Bloomsbury Square and also at Brighton, where her address is the same as that given for Miss Hart in the share register—I went down to the colliery about September and made inquiries there of persons in the employ of the company, in consequence of which I ceased to act; I never was secretary—I did not ask for remuneration—I was not paid for giving up the documents—I received one cheque for £5 for petty cash, and I kept the documents as a lien—I am not a discharged servant of the company that I am aware of—my name appeared on the prospectus, but it has been pasted over; Mr. Morley requested me to do that.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. I began to act as secretary about the middle of August, and ceased on September 28th.
By the COURT. I understand much about companies—the shares of this company were only offered to the public by transfer; they were divided by a family arrangement—there was no fraud on the public, it was only a speculation at the risk of those who carried it on; I think the only mistake they made was not registering the shares—it has become a very common practice for banking firms to become limited companies without offering the shares to the public, and not with a view to invite the public to join them.
EDWARD LEVOIS . I am a solicitor, of Palmerston Buildings, Old Broad Street—I produced a lease yesterday, granted by Alfred Scott to Henry Hands on December 31st, 1889—I got it from Mr. Hands, but Morley told me some time before September, 1889, that he had had an offer from Mr. Scott to get the lease of the Mangotsfield Colliery, and that Scott had an immediate right to grant the lease, and he had an equitable right in the adjoining property, subject to the litigation before Mr. Justice Stirling, so that he got that lease in an equitable contract to be turned into legal documents, and simply disposed of—he showed me parts of collieries in the "West of England, and I agreed to advance him £100—I have a memorandum of deposit of deed that refers to this lease, and a letter from Scott to Hands—I have not got the agreement, but I can get it—if the company was successfully floated I was to have a bonus of £2,000, in
addition to the return of my money—I claim a first charge on the lease for that amount—I considered he had no right to issue debentures till I was cleared off, and I took proceedings to restrain the company from issuing debentures—this is the document which was deposited with me as security.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. Before I advanced the money I took the not unnatural precaution of going to look at the property; I went down the pit to see whether it was a bonâ fide mine, and undoubtedly it was, but of course it was a speculation—I was risking my money—a great part of the money went to pay working expenses on the mine; a great part of it I paid into Martin's Bank to be sent down to pay wages, and I have got the receipt here, showing money paid in week by week.
PERCY TIPPER . I am sub-manager of the Shaftesbury Avenue branch of the City Bank—the prisoner Clifford had an account there which was opened on 18th November, 1890—she signed the signature book and had authority to draw cheques—Jane Money also had authority to draw cheques, she signed the book in my presence—the account is still open, but we told them two months ago we could receive no more money—this, is the authority (produced)—I have got 22 cheques here which have been more recently presented—thirteen of. them were signed by Morley—I believe these two letters (produced) to be in Miss Clifford's writing.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Of the two the signature, of one alone, "F.," is Miss Clifford's: "To Mr. Jackson—Dear Sir,—Thank you for your letter; Mr. Hobson is a strange man; I hope to see you in a few days.—E. CLIFFORD. "—Morley came with her to open the banking account; we had references, and inquired of them.
WILLIAM AMHERST ABEL REEVE . I am manager of the Central Bank, Shaftesbury Avenue—Clifford opened an account with us on May 9th, 1890, and closed it on September 30th, when it was overdrawn £108 6s. 9d., which was paid that day through the solicitor who was acting for her—we commenced an action for it—Mr. S. Morley also had authority to draw on the account—I got their signatures on this form (produced)—of these cheques thirty or thirty-one are signed by Morley, and six, I believe, by Miss Clifford.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The £108 was paid a few days after the issue of the writ.
CHARLES L'ENFANT . I am a clerk in the Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of Samuel Victor Morley; the adjudication was on February 17th, 1887, and he is still undischarged—there is no application for his discharge.
HENRY MARSHALL . I am an inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department—I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest on 21st February, and on the 23rd I kept observation on 11, Bloomsbury Square with Sergeant Gettin, and about nine o'clock Morley drove up in a hansom, and got out—I said, "Good morning, Mr. Morley; I do not know if you know me; I am Inspector Marshall, and hold a warrant for your apprehension"—he said, "What is it all about?"—I said, "Come a little further down the street, and I will read it to you," as it was a very foggy morning and I had to read it under a lamp—it was for fraud and conspiracy—he said, "It is spite on the part of Bobson. Miss Clifford advertised for a farm, and Hobson had sold it for securities in the Midland and Bristol Colliery Company, which I suppose
he has found out from some one or other are not of the value he imagines"—he asked me to allow him to go to the house to see Miss Clifford, which I declined—I took him to the station, and found on him a large bundle of letters and cheques and coupons—the first is a blank cheque form on the Capital and Counties Bank, Piccadilly, signed E. Clifford, and a blank cheque on the Shaftesbury Avenue branch of the Central Bank without signature; a blank cheque, signed Ritte Harris, on the London and County Bank, Leicester Square; the next is ditto—then there is a transfer form of shares, not filled up, but signed "Elizabeth Clifford, witness S. Morley, 134, Piccadilly"—this is a transfer or receipt from Clifford to Hobson; the next is a certificate of shares on the Bristol and Midland Colliery in the name of Miss E. Clifford, 11, Bloomsbury Square, from 27251 to 29250, signed by Mr. Crew and Mr. Mallow—some of those were found at his office, 11, Bloomsbury Square—this, marked "K. K," is from the City Bank, Limited, signed by Miss Clifford—I said, "What rooms have you at 11, Bloomsbury Square? "—he said, I have an office there, the back ground floor"—I said I should require to search it, and asked him for the keys—he gave them to me, and said, "There is a bundle of letters in one of the boxes which have reference to this case," and I searched and found them—I said, "Shall I find Mr. Hobson's deeds?"—he said, "No, you can't expect me to give you any information about them"—I said, "What about the safe; is the key of that here?"—he said, "No"; but I found that one key opened the safe, and I looked into it, but did not take possession of any papers—these other documents and share certificates relate to the colliery; they were found in the room—I returned to Bloomsbury Square, and arrested Miss Clifford on the same warrant—she said that it was spite; that Hobson knew perfectly well what he was doing; that she had £2,500 worth of shares in the Bristol and Midland Colliery Company, and took down a photograph of the colliery and showed it to me, and said that the shares were as good as gold, and that some of the coupons were paid last Saturday—I took her to the station and got some keys from her, which I afterwards returned to her, and took this receipt for them (produced)—she wrote it in my presence—these documents were all found in Morley's room.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I do not produce any document found in Miss Clifford's possession—the room Morley occupied as an office was in her house—she has lived there between two and three years—it is a private boarding-house—she has never been in the slightest trouble before.
PERCY TIPPER (Re-examined). I do not think this document, R. M. H. 3, is Miss Clifford's signature, and R. M. H. 4 is not her usual signature—I would not honour a cheque with it—all these signatures are similar, but they are not the signature I know—I think the one R. M. H. 9 is hers—I do not think this is (3)—it is not the same as the others—two of these are exactly alike—the "C" in all these you have shown me is different, but the "lifford" is similar—I would not honour a cheque signed so—I have several letters before me signed "E. Clifford"—I only know Morley's signature—the signature to "N" is not the same as before, it is quite different—"A" is a copy of a letter addressed to a Mr. Cooker, and is marked "copy "on the top—the signature "E. Clifford" is attached to it
—this document (Q) is similar to Miss Clifford's writing—I am not quite sure—I do not think these two marked "S" are hers.
ARTHUR HARLOW (Re-examined). I cannot positively swear, but I think the body of these letters, purporting to be signed "E. Clifford," is Morley's writing; I do not know in whose writing the body of E. M. H. 6 is—the body of E. M. H. 5 and E. M. H. 6 is Morle's writing.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. E. M. H. 3 is the earliest date I have spoken to; it begins, "Dear Sir, re advertisement"—the next is dated. January 2nd, and the next January 5; E. M. H. 5 and 6 are dated January 6; the next is January 31, E, M. H. 9—they are all making appointments replying to advertisements.
CHARLES GETHEN (Police-sergeant). After the prisoner's arrest I went to Bristol, about February 24 or 25, to this mine, with Sergeant Robertson, and found Mr. Scott in charge—no coal was being raised; there were five or six lumps at the surface, about a foot and a half long and a foot wide, and some small coal, which Mr. Scott said they were using for the engine—I picked up this piece (produced)—ten men were sitting in one of the sheds; they were not working, it was the meal hour.
Cross-examined by MR. WADDY. This was the same visit Robertson told you about after the works had been stopped by the Government
MORLEY*— Five Years' Penal Servitude. CLIFFORD— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, April 11th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrence.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
GUILTY of the attempt. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Prosecuted; and MR. PURCELL Defended.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Hard Labour.
THIED COURT.—Saturday, April 11th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted, and MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
HERMANN COMPTON HALLIDAY . I live at 74, Netherwood Park, West Kensington Road—I am an estate agent there—the prisoner was my clerk for a little over eighteen months—in December I let a house to Miss Corp for three years; my commission was £2 5s. on that transaction—this account was sent by the prisoner, with my authority, to William Webster, the manager of the building society to whom the house belongs; it is receipted, "Received H. C. Halliday, per Glover,
£2 5s. commission on letting"—I first discovered that that account had been paid either on Wednesday or Thursday, 25th or 26th February, after the Saturday morning that the prisoner left my employment—he never told me up to the time he left that the account had been paid, and I never knew that it had—I first saw this cheque on 25th or 26th February, when having found several accounts were wrong—I called on Mr. Webster about them, and had some conversation with him in regard to this account, and he showed me this cheque—the endorsement on it is not in my writing, it is in the prisoner's writing, disguised—I gave him no authority to endorse my name on the back of any cheque—it has been through my bank. (The cheque was on the National Provincial Bank, Lincoln's Inn Branch, dated 23rd December, 1890, for £2 5s., payable to H. C. Halliday or order, and signed Thomas Webster, and endorsed H. C. Halliday)—it was not a crossed cheque.
Cross-examined. The prisoner left my service on 21st February, a Saturday—he had not given me a week's notice to leave, I swear that—he had never complained of not being able to get his wages, which were £1 17s. 6d. a week—he had no commission; I frequently gave him a small bonus in case of extra business, quite as much as he earned—twelve months ago I was in straits for money, but he always had his wages—during the twelve months before he left me I was not exactly hard up, but I had to pull up twelve months ago when I was in difficulties; I had a number of little accounts which I was paying and am paying—I could pay my ordinary expenses during the eighteen months the prisoner was with me; I had five banking accounts—I had accounts at the London and South-Western and at the Provident Banks at the same time—my account at the Provident was closed last year, I think, and that at the South-Western a few weeks ago—I had an account at Whiteley's—two accounts were closed by the bankers in consequence of their unsatisfactory nature—when the prisoner came to me I banked at Whiteley's, then at the Charing Cross Bank, the London Trading Bank, the London Provident Bank, and the London and South-Western—Whiteley's and the Charing Cross closed the accounts because I was in difficulties—I only had the Charing Cross account a few weeks—I believe I closed the London Trading Bank account myself, because I kept practically no balance there, and they said the account was so small—this cheque of mine for £2 10s. to Mr. Batchelor, dated 19th May, 1890, was returned by the London Trading Bank—it was paid in September or October—the prisoner had the money to pay it, and ought to have paid it—possibly cheques on the London Trading Bank were constantly returned—I closed the London Provident Bank account myself because I could not keep two banking accounts going—I went there shortly after the London Trading Bank account was closed—the London Provident said my account was too small—it was not on account of dishonoured cheques—I gave no cheques on that bank which were dishonoured—the South-Western account was closed five or six weeks ago because it was so small—I never relied on that for my ordinary business—I have only got money now where I had some before, in my house—I never relied on the banks, but only used them for the purpose of receipts; not for the purpose of giving dishonoured cheques—I did not give cheques unless I had money in the bank or cheques or some security in the house to pay in—on several occasions I have been
disappointed at the last moment about the securities—I have no idea how many of my cheques have been dishonoured during the last twelve months, but the majority have been paid—I am in better circumstances now since I know what I receive—on April 4th, a few days ago, a committal order for ten days was made against me in the City of London Court; that matter has been paid now—I paid the prisoner's wages regularly, with one exception during this year, and then I paid £1 on the Saturday and seventeen shillings and sixpence on the Monday—my cash-book from 1st January this year showing the payments is here—the cash-book up to 31st December is missing from my office; it began in April or May last year, I swear to the best of my recollection—I have not got here the cash-book which I had before April or May of last year; I suppose it is somewhere among my books and papers—such a cash-book is in existence—I have not had notice to produce it—I had two notices to produce a fortnight or three weeks ago at the Police-court—I have been at home upon and since 6th April—I may say I have never seen any such notice to produce as this—I have had two or three notices to produce books, and I have brought them; I had. no notice about the cash-book prior to April or May, 1890, and I did not think it necessary to produce it—it is not a fact that up to 1st January this year I had no cash-book at all; it is absolutely untrue that I began keeping a cash-book at the beginning of this year in consequence of the prisoner suggesting to me that I should get into trouble in the Bankruptcy Court if I did not—I had a solicitor to conduct this case at the Police-court—he did not say on the third hearing that he was so dissatisfied and disgusted with the case that he would have nothing more to do with it—he withdrew from the case-when I told him in Court I would not allow him to proceed further—I did not tell him that in the Magistrate's hearing—after a quibble between the prisoner's solicitor and Mr. Waring, my solicitor, Mr. Curtice Bennett said that he never had a prosecution more disgracefully presented to him; I fully endorsed that, and I then spoke to Mr. Waring; then I said to the Magistrate that as I was not represented by solicitor, if it was necessary for me to be represented I should withdraw from the case, but that if he would allow me to conduct my own case I would go on—the Magistrate said he would give me every assistance to go on, and he did so; he never said I could withdraw—the prisoner's solicitor said he objected to my withdrawing, and insisted on the case being dismissed—on 23rd February, two days after the prisoner had left my service, he wrote to me this letter, threatening the with an action for slander, and giving me notice that he was going to Mr. Waddington; that was not my first intimation that he was going to Mr. Waddington—I went to try and induce him to prosecute the prisoner, not to forestall the prisoner—Mr. Waddington said the prisoner had been to him in the morning and given him instructions—I had several conversations with the Mr. Bull and Mr. Sells mentioned in the letter—I did not tell them that I must do something to stop the prisoner's mouth; something had been done before I saw them; instructions were given to proceed long before I had seen Bull—I cannot give the words I said to them—I swear I said no words bearing that construction, because instructions had been given to proceed—I collected rents for Mr. Gammage—he holds my dishonoured cheque for the rents I collected; payment of it was stopped because I have a contra account against him—he has never taken proceedings
about it—we had a quarrel the day after the cheque was given—I cannot swear there were funds at the bank to meet the cheque when I gave it, but I had money to pay into the bank to meet it—I collected rents for Mr. Davison—I do owe him the money I collected—Mr. Gordon was Mr. Davison's solicitor, and claimed the money on his behalf—the prisoner wrote that I was absent from town—this is a balance-sheet in that matter drawn out by the prisoner—I do not owe Mr. Davison a penny; he owes me money—I owe Mr. Cobbold £2 10s.—I gave him a cheque for it on February 21st—at the time I gave it I asked him to hold it over, and I found afterwards it was presented the following week—it has been dishonoured—I swore on the first occasion at the Police-court that I did not know it had been dishonoured; I corrected that on the second or third occasion—after the first hearing I asked Mr. Cobbold to present it again—I asked Miss Smith, of Paddington Green, to cash my cheque for £2 in December last year, because I wanted money—that cheque was dishonoured—Miss Negus, of Norland Square, cashed my cheque for 30s.—that was not dishonoured; payment was stopped; I had a contra account against her—she got judgment against me because we entered appearance one day too late through the prisoner's fault, and the contra account did not appear in Court—I have instituted proceedings against her for three guineas—Miss Gover, of Ormiston Gardens, cashed my cheque for £2—it was dishonoured; the money was forwarded to her—she got judgment against me in August last year—I collected rents for Miss Grimston in cash—I gave her a cheque for £6 over twelve months ago—it was dishonoured—she obtained judgment against me—I did not set up a bill of sale against her claim; it was already set up; I had it twelve months ago—the Judge knocked it down; he did not say it was fraudulent—my wife's aunt was put forth as the bill of sale holder, and she had the money—I sold some of Mr. James Keast's stock for him—I did not get cash, but promises—he served me with a writ, of which I took no notice, as I had lent him money—I do not know that he has got judgment against me for £140—I collected rents for James Tyler, of London, to the amount of £7 or £8 over twelve months ago—he got judgment against me and a committal order; the debt has been liquidated now—Cramer and Co. got a committal order against me—this was all over twelve months ago—Cramer's committal order was a week ago—I gave Alfred Smart a cheque which was lost—I don't know that it was dishonoured; I don't owe him a penny—he did not say that it would be easier to collect his rents himself than to get them from me afterwards—Miss Coombe cashed a cheque for me—she gave me cash to pay for work to be done for her on one or two occasions—I suppose I put the money in my pocket—I gave her a cheque—I believe it was not dishonoured, but it was not paid by arrangement because I had a contra account with her—if I had no money at the bank at the time it would have been there when the cheque was presented—Brooks, of Thornton Heath, had a cheque of mine, which was dishonoured, and got judgment against me twelve months ago—there was no contra account there—twelve months ago Cornish and Gardiner, of High Holborn, had a cheque of mine which was dishonoured; they obtained judgment—I gave Barber a cheque which I told him I should not meet, I had a contra account there—Lewis, of Bucklersbury, lent me £10—gave him a rotten cheque—he did not obtain judgment against me; he
would have succeeded if he had—I gave a cheque to Howard, of Kingsland Road, and stopped it next day because I found that certain work had not been done—Netherclift, of Brook Green Road. did work for houses belonging to my clients—I have collected the rents from those houses, and handed them over—some of the houses belong to Mrs. Skelton—I have not deducted from the rents which I have collected for Mrs. Skelton the amount I was supposed to pay to Mr. Netherclift—I did not give him a cheque for £23 for work done to the house—he does not hold any dishonoured cheque for that amount, and never did; I have referred him to the owner over and over again—in the case of other work done to Mrs. Skelton's houses, to the amount of about £20, I have deducted £10 from the rents I collected, and I gave it to the prisoner on the 30th January, and he neglected to pay it—Howard and Company, plumbers, did work to the extent of £7 to the houses—they hold my cheque, which was stopped because their account included work which had not been done—I have not deducted that amount from the rents—I have paid over all the rents; I may have something in hand, but that was with Mrs. Skelton's knowledge—Fish, of Shepherd's Bush Road, worked and is working to-day for me, I believe; I may owe him a few shillings—I have deducted his amount from the rents—Bowler, a decorator, has done work to the extent" of £5 12s.—he had my dishonoured cheque for £3 on 23rd February, but he has been paid since—collected rents for Tonsett, a London draper—I believe he does not hold my dishonoured cheque for £10 for the rents I collected; I gave him a cheque for £6 or £7 for goods I bought of him, we are on visiting terms still—I owe Bolting about £10 for rents I have collected—I never collected rents for Kemp or gave him a cheque—I do not owe Mrs. Rowe or Mrs. Tasker money—Mrs. Tasker owes me some—I do not owe money to King, of the Prince Albert—I collected no rents for Freer; he had a dishonoured cheque of mine which is cleared now—he owes me money, I owe him nothing—I did not pay the prisoner for the last week when he left, because he left at half-past ten in the morning—I went to his house on the next morning and asked his wife why he had not come to the office it half-past two or three, and what money he had collected, and what work he had done, as he had several places to call at—she said she had only a sovereign and a few shillings left, and I had the sovereign—I did not retain the rest of the money against his wages; I had not paid his wages; I did not offer to do so on that Sunday morning, because of what I had found out previously, and because there was nothing due—having had this letter threatening proceedings on 23rd or 24th, on the following Thursday a writ was served on me—I should have eight days to enter appearance—on Thursday, 5th March, the last day for entering appearance, I believe, the prisoner was arrested—my instructions had been given a week before—I was not very hard up, nor did I want money very badly, on the 23rd December, just before Christmas—I had £9 or £10 at my bank on the Saturday when the prisoner had his wages—I don't know how much I had on 23rd—I did not send him out specially to collect this amount from Mr. Webster—I had not written a week before asking Mr. Webster for the money, the account might have been sent in in the usual course—I knew where to turn for £2 at this time, because I had money in the house—I wrote this letter to Mr. Bull on 11th December. (Requesting him to let him have
£1 10s. on the Saturday), and this on the 20th December (Requesting him to let him have £2)—I was not pressed in respect of my own private account, but in respect of that particular property I was pressed—I never mix up my private moneys with those of my clients—the dishonoured cheques I gave for payments in cash were twelve months ago—on 19th December my balance was overdrawn £3—it was overdrawn £6 on 23rd—the bank made a mistake on the 19th—I had a balance of 1s. 7d. on 19th—that bank has closed my account—Christmas Day was on Thursday, and I paid the prisoner's wages on the Saturday morning—I did not send him out to try and collect this money from Mr. Webster—I swear I did not know he was going to Mr. Webster—I did not tell him that if he got a cheque from Mr. Webster he was to get it cashed and bring back the money to me—I swear he did not bring back to me the money from that cheque; the first intimation I had of his having received it was on 23rd February—the prisoner told me he had called on Mr. Webster on several occasions, and that he was out—that was towards the last few weeks he was with me—the prisoner charged me for his railway fares; a few coppers—I cannot show you any entry where he charged anything since 23rd December for his expenses in going to Webster.
Re-examined. Several times in the cash-book an amount something more than his wages is entered—there was a cash-book for the previous year; I have not destroyed it—the cash-book for this year shows week by week the prisoner's salary, £1 17s. 6d., up to the week he left me, when I did not pay him in consequence of inquiries I was making, and because he never turned up to receive it—it is false to say that this cashbook was all written up at one time—a payment of £1 19s. 1d. to the prisoner would be for his salary and omnibus and railway fares he had incurred—the warrant for slander was served on me about six o'clock on the evening of 26th—I had received his letter about seven or nine on 24th—that was the first intimation I had of his taking any proceedings against me—I had been to Mr. Waddington on the afternoon of the 24th, before I received this letter or knew anything about it Mr. Waddington then informed me for the first time that the prisoner had consulted him—that was the first I knew of it—it was when my solicitor was conducting my case at the Police-court that the Magistrate said the case was disgracefully put before him—that statement was made to my solicitor, and in consequence of it I told my solicitor that I declined to let him go on—the solicitor for the defence, when my solicitor had gone, said that he claimed to have the case dismissed—twelve months ago I was in very low water, and it was during that time that most of the accounts were running, and the cheques were given about which I have been cross-examined—since then a great proportion of them have been paid—a balance-sheet was sent to Mr. Gordon, after which no proceedings were taken—there were seven names which I was examined about to whom I don't owe money and gave no cheques—when the prisoner went away on the Saturday there were other accounts to collect besides this £2 5s.—I suppose other accounts were outstanding—when the prisoner's wife gave me the sovereign on the Sunday after he left on the 21st I received no message, and I have no knowledge as to what account it was in part payment of—I made up this cash-book; it was always open on my desk in the office.
THOMAS WEBSTER . I am a solicitor, of 3, Howard Street, Strand—this is my cheque, which I gave to someone who came and professed to be Halliday's clerk—I cannot say if it was the prisoner or not—he signed the receipt, "H. C. Halliday, per C. Glover."
Cross-examined. This receipt was written in my presence at the time I gave the cheque—it seems to me to be very similar to the endorsement on the cheque—when he came he said it would be very convenient to Mr. Halliday to have the money, and I gave him the cheque in consequence—I had had no application before—the account came by post a few days before.
Re-examined. The cheque has been through the bank, and has been paid.
MATTHEW CHICK (Sergeant T). On Thursday, 5th March, I went to 22, Bloomfield Street, Shepherd's Bush, where I saw the prisoner—I told him I was a constable, and should take him into custody for forging Mr. Halliday's name on two cheques, and I showed him the £2 5s. cheque—he said, "That is my handwriting on the back; Mr. Halliday gave me authority to endorse the cheque if payable to order, as he was wanting the money, I got the cheque, and endorsed it at the bank in Mr. Halliday's name, and then returned to the office, and handed Mr. Halliday the money, for Mr. Webster's cheque I mean."
Cross-examined. This was at his residence.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner for forging and uttering an endorsement on an order for the payment of £ 2 7s. and for embezzling and stealing various sums.
MR. RAVEN offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
JOHN WILDGOOSE . I am secretary to the Tower Hill Branch of the National Amalgamated Sailors' and Firemen's Union—my office is on the firstfloor of 17, King Street, Tower Hill—below are Lockhart's cocoa-rooms, and above are two floors—Mr. and Mrs. Bell live in a kitchen, the door of which is almost opposite my office. door—the prisoner was a member of my branch of the Union—on 18th March, shortly after half-past six, I returned to the office, the street door was ajar; I opened it and saw the prisoner coming downstairs—I knew him personally—I said, "Halloa! what do you want here?"—he said, "There is a man wants you upstairs"—I passed him and went upstairs, and on the middle of the stairs I saw another man, who rushed past me on the stairs, and he and the prisoner ran away together—I gave chase to the top of Queen Street; the prisoner ran in front of the other man—when they turned into Royal Mint Street I lost sight of them—I went back to the office and found that the office door had been forced, and the lock of a box was forced, and about 5s. 6d. taken, mostly in coppers—I found on the ground my carpenter's tool for boring holes; it was bent and broken—I gave information to the police
—I have known the prisoner for three or four weeks; he had come up to the office and I had seen him almost daily—I have no doubt that he is one of the men that rushed past me.
Cross-examined. I think I spoke at the Police-court to their rushing down the stairs and to my chasing them—people occupy the floor above my office—there was no light on the stairs—I fixed the time because when I came back from chasing the men I looked at the clock and it had turned seven—that was after I examined the office—numbers of Union men are continually going up to my office—the office is closed at five o'clock, after that they knock at the street door, sometimes they go no further than the street door; no one is living there belonging to the Union, after the office is closed, to admit them—no man would gain admittance to the office through people on the other floors—sometimes I am there after hours—a member of the Union might think I was there—I could not say how long the prisoner has been a member of the Union; he had been in London three or four weeks before this happened—after seeing this paper I have no doubt he was discharged on 28th February—he has been out and in of the office daily since he has been on shore—at that time a great many sailors were coming to the office—he gave an address which was on our books; I did not know where he lived.
Re-examined. I do not know myself whether he was discharged on 28th February—neither the prisoner nor any other member of the Union would have any right to go inside the office after office hours—I don't think I had seen the prisoner before on that day.
ROBERT BELL . I live with my father and mother at 17, King Street, Tower Hill—our kitchen door is on the same landing as the office of the Sailors' and Firemen's Union, and when we are standing at our kitchen door we can see the door of the office—between six and half-past on 18th March I was standing at the kitchen door and I saw the prisoner and another man inside the office of the Union—the door was open—I was afterwards taken to the Police-court, where I identified the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The door of the office was half open—one of the men was leaning over the counter and the other had his elbows on the counter—I just saw them for a moment—I had never seen either of them before to my knowledge—I am fifteen years old.
THOMAS ROWBOTTOM . I live at 43, Locksley Street, Limehouse, and am a clerk in the Sailors' and Firemen's Union, King Street—on this day I locked up the premises and left between a quarter to five and five—the box under the counter in which we put subscriptions for the banner fund was locked when I left—I locked the door of the room—the subscription box is a slit in the counter, with a drawer underneath-Mr. Wildgoose keeps the key of that, and of the office door.
Cross-examined. People come up at all hours of the day, till half-past four or five.
JOHN COLE (Detective Constable). On 20th March I arrested the prisoner and said to him, "If identified, you are charged with breaking and entering the office of the Sailors' and Firemen's Union in King Street, Tower Hill"—he said, "Who is there to identify me besides Mr. Wildgoose?"—I said, "I do not know at present"—he said, "I can prove where I was, all that day," meaning the 18th—he said that after I told him the date
Cross-examined. I arrested him on Tower Hill from a description—I have never been to his house; I have heard he lives at York Street,
Shadwell, ten minutes or a quarter of an hour's walk from where this robbery was committed—Tower Hill is between Gravel Lane and York Street, Shadwell—I know nothing against the prisoner.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent."
A Witness deposed to the prisoner's good character.
Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday, April 13th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
362. HENRY CURME (30) , Stealing 112 lbs. of bacon and a cheese of Hudson Ewbank Kearsley and another, his masters; and JOSEPH ALLISON (38) and EMMA ALLISON (41) , Feloniously receiving the same, knowing them to be stolen.
CURME PLEADED GUILTY to this and to several other indictments. MESSRS. C. F. GILL and ERNEST BEARD Prosecuted and MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and THOMAS Defended the Allisons.
HENRY JOHN EVANS . I live at 259, Brockley Road—I am manager to Messrs. Kearsley and Tonge, wholesale provision merchants and tea dealers, in Mitre Square—they employ about three hundred hands at the chief office—they have close upon two hundred establishments in different places, in which they employ a large number of hands—Curme was a porter in their employ at Mitre Square, at 25s. a week—he was also employed by the housekeeper there in cleaning out the offices, and in clearing up after the close of business in the day, and before opening in the morning—he would arrive as nearly seven in the morning as possible; the warehouse would open at eight—he would remain in the evening about an hour after he had done his work—he was a porter in the delivery department; he would deliver the goods to the various vans that came to the place, under the instructions of the delivery foreman, and to wheel the goods on to the vans—as a cleaner he would have access to the whole of the premises—Mr. Jenkins was the head of that department; he would arrive at 8.30—before a carman leaves the building he has to get a delivery-sheet from the delivery foreman, which is registered, and that contains the names of the customers to whom he has to deliver goods, and he has to bring back the sheet to the delivery foreman, and that is filed—the firm does not allow the sale of provisions to their employés, that has long since been discontinued—Curme would have access to the delivery-sheets in the course of his duty as cleaner—the Allisons were not customers of the firm; their names do not appear on our books as such, there is no trace of any transaction with them; I had no knowledge of any of our goods being delivered to them—on Thursday, 5th March, in consequence of information, I went with Inspector Mitchell to 55, Leadenhall Street; Curme had been dismisse on the Monday previous, the 2nd—I saw Allison, who made certain statements, which were reduced to writing; these are them (produced) Curme had no authority from the firm to deliver goods to the Allisons.
(The statements were read as follows:—Emma Allison's: "About two years ago my son introduced me to Mr. Curme. Between four and five months ago he asked me if I could get him some customers. I said, 'I daresay I can; I know so many people about here. 'He asked me if I would let him have some money to send in an order in the morning. It was my practice to pay him some cash over-night, and the goods to be sent in in the morning. He said the firm would not let him have the goods until he had paid part of the money, and he settled up on the Saturday. Since then I have given him orders from time to time, consisting of bacon and hams, as far as I remember about thirty hams and about forty sides of bacon; my transactions were with him from the 9th to 11th February, I bought from him two hams and two sides of bacon; also two small hams, one weighing 5J and the other 6 lb., for which I paid him £4. I sold Mr. Turner two hams and a piece of bacon on 14th February, which I received from Curme, and Mr. Turner paid me fifteen shillings for them. At the time I was dealing with Curme I knew he was employed at Messrs. Kearsley and Tonge, of Mitre Square. I asked him, and my husband asked him as well, if it was all right, and he said, 'Certainly; Joe had mentioned it to me as well as you if it was all right.' On the 28th February I also bought from him two sides of bacon and two hams, and paid him about £5 for that week. On Sunday last I paid him six shillings on account of future orders, and again on Monday five shillings. On Tuesday he and his wife called round and said he wanted all the money I could let him have for Wednesday night, and he would bend in a large order on the Thursday morning."
Joseph Allison, husband to Emma Allison, of 55, Leadenhall Street: "I was introduced to Curme at the same time as my wife. During the time of his business transactions with my wife he had asked me on several occasions to take cheeses out for him to various public-houses, the George and Guy, Brick Lane, Busby's, corner of Swan Street, Mansell Street, and the Horseshoe, Aldersgate Street, owned by Mr. Perkins; also the Bull, Leadenhall Street, and the Roebuck, Duke Street; he first of all left them at 55, Leadenhall Street, with my wife's goods, giving me instructions over-night what he was going to send, and where I was to take it to. I have received two cheeses from him for my services. I have also lent him money; he would calculate what was the value of the cheeses, and say, 'Now you give me so much to settle. 'The first cheese was eight shillings, and the second five shillings. I asked him if the goods were honestly come by, as I would have nothing to do with anything that was wrong, pointing to the house we were then in, 55, Leadenhall Street. I said, 'Harry, this house is my bread;' and he said, 'Of course it is right, Joe; do you think I would have anything to do with it if was not right? I have a position to look to as well as you."
Cross-examined. by MR. MATHEWS. Curme has been in the employment, as near as I can remember, two years—at the time he entered the service and for some little time, we used occasionally to sell to the employés—that was discontinued in Curme's particular case in December, 1889, and generally about a year ago; the practice did not apply to warehousemen, except to gentlemen like myself; it was discontinued to myself about four or five months ago; I was the last—there would not be occasional sales to Curme for about a year after he came; there was only one transaction
with him, that was at the end of 1889, and then we told him we should not supply him again; after that were transaction with other employés not being warehouseman, down to three or four months ago there was no public notification that the firm had ceased to deal with their employés but it was well known—I did not of Crume having billheads printed in the name of "H. Curme and Co., 3 Duke Street Aldgate, Provision Merchants" until I saw them at the Police-court; that was entirely without our knowledge—when I went with Mitchell to 55, Leadenhall, Street, both the Allisons said that they were willing to give every information it was after that that they made the statements-we last took stock in January last; we usually took stock half-yearly-we last took stock in September, 1890, and before that in March or April I think 6d. a pound is a fair wholesale price for hams.
Re-examined. That would be the imported price; they are smoked after that-we should sell to retailers at a different price—76s. a cwt would be the average price of a side of bacon—the average value of a Canadian cheese would be 60s. a cwt.; that is principally the kind of cheese we have—the principal thing our employ's used to purchase the firm was tea, and in small quantities-such a thing as cheese would only be sold in the original package, and no one would buy an original package for their own consumption.
HENRY CURME (the Prisoner). I have been in the employment of Messrs. Kearsley about two years as a porter in the warehouse—I was paid 25s. a week; I was also employed as cleaner at 7s. a week, at not by the prosecutors, but by the persons who had the cleaning to do—in consequence of that I went to the premises an hour earlier in the morning, and remained an hour later at night—Mr. Jenkins would come on duty at half-past eight or a quarter to nine—the warehouse opened at eight—some of the carmen would come at eight in the morning—I have known the Allisons about two years, as being charge of the buildings in Leadenhall Street as caretakers—they have been outside the prosecutor's premises when I have been there they have called me out, both of them; not both together, separately, at different times they have asked me to send them some things, or give them meaning bacon or cheese—I have done so sometimes; I have sent them bacon on Tait's boxes and ham and cheese; there would be a side of bacon, and two or three hams and one or two cheeses—I have sent them currants and raisins; I don't think be more; the average would be about that the side of bacon would be a little over half a cwt—I have been on Saturday for the things I sent; I might get something in the week, sometimes at their place at Leadenshall Street, sometimes outside the house—Mrs. Allison has paid me: I have given her one or two receipts just "received" so-and-so, whatever the amount was—this has been going on from about last July, I think, something like that going to the warehouse early, I had access to the goods there—I used to send the goods to Allison's in a cart, when the carts came at eight; it would not take more than twenty minutes at the outside to get to their place and back; the carts would be back before Mr. Jenkins arrived—Mrs. Allison would pay me about nine shillings for a whole of best cheese that would be not quite 2d. a lb.; the bacon would be the best American at 10d. a lb. retail, that would be 2s. 4d. a lb.—the price would be about 78s.
a cwt. retail; that would be for some parts 10d., some 9d., and as low as 7 1/2 d., that would be the average—for a ham she would pay 2s., whatever the weight might be—I have also sent them tea in wooden biscuit boxes loose, about 20 lb., the best; I was paid 1s. for that; I have seen persons come there for them when I have been in their room upstairs at the top of the house—I could not say how many rooms they had there; I have been in two rooms, and have seen the bacon and cheese there—I have said once or twice to them, "Don't sell it too cheap;" I think I have told them not to let people know the price at which they were sold, or there would be a row about it.
Cross-examined. I was arrested on the evening of the 5th March; I was discharged on Monday, the 2nd—I was arrested before the Allisons; I was in bed when the police came—I made a statement to the police on the 6th—I said, "I wish you to tell the Magistrate that there in no one but me in the robbery; I have had sides of bacon, hams, and cheese, and have sold them to Mrs. Allison; 'she thought I came by the goods honestly; I have destroyed the delivery-sheets that the Allisons have signed "—that statement was not true—I was taken before the Magistrate and remanded from time to time—the Allisons called witnesses; some of them spoke of me and of my dealings with them—I was not annoyed at that—I was annoyed at them telling lies—I heard that it was a son of the Allisons that brought the police to me—he came into my room with the police—I made up my mind to give evidence after hearing the lies that were told by their witnesses—I had not made up my mind to give evidence against the Allisons till now—the evidence I give now I should have given in any case, right through the case, the same as I told the Magistrate and the inspector from the first, that I should reserve my defence—I made up my mind to give the whole facts of the case from the first—I first heard that I should be called as a witness on the Thursday or Wednesday—I made a statement on 4th April—I sent to the inspector, and asked to see him on 2nd April—I think that was about a day after I had been committed—I said that Mrs. Allison thought I came by the goods honestly, because I was in hopes that the case would have been settled that day—my wife told me that the best thing I could do was to speak the truth—I was not induced to make the statement, because I thought the counsel for the prosecution would let me down light if I incriminated the Allisons—that did not occur to me—I do not know a man named Day—I don't remember saying to anyone, as I was leaving the dock last Thursday, that my late master was going to have counsel to speak for me to let me down lightly, and that in return I was to give evidence against the Allisons—I will not swear I did not—I have been stealing from the prosecutors since last June, not before—I have no doubt said that people knew I could get them things if they wanted them; that I could supply them with bacon, cheeses, and hams—I have done so, and have bought them, which I can prove, from Kearsley's; not in my own name—Pearce was a witness before the Magistrate—I heard what he said—I believe he knew mo by the name of Hampshire—I believe that was a name I had—I did not say I could supply him with bacon, tea, and hams, not at the time: he mentioned, for he said three years ago, and I was not then in London—I no doubt said so, and I have done so—I did not say I had a trifling commission on what I sold—I only had one transaction with Pearce, for which he paid me by instalments—I remember Payne in the Coldstream
Guards—I told him I was at work in a firm in the City, and asked him if he could introduce me to some member of the sergeants' mess—he did introduce me—no doubt I promised him a commission of 2 1/2 per cent, on any orders that came from the sergeants' mess—I did not supply the mess—he did not know me as Hampshire—I can't say; he may have done so—I was doing a little business of my own at that time—I had some billheads printed "H. Curme and Co., Provision Dealers, No. 3, Duke Street, Aldgate," and sold goods, goods that I had bought, some from Messrs. Kearsley, not all from them; that was-in the middle of last year—I purchased goods from them on 28th March or the beginning of April, 1890; that was the last dealing I had with-them in the name of. Hammond; that was the name I gave—I swear that—the carts I sent the goods in to Allison were MacNamara's carts; they contracted with Kearsley, and I believe Keareley's name was on them—the carmen were Brown and Holloway; I gave them delivery-sheets; I took them, and when the carmen returned them I destroyed them—I can't say how often Mrs. Allison paid me; perhaps once or twice a week; she has passed me money in the presence of other persons, 2s. or 3s. or 10s. at the outside, but never the lot—on Saturday she would come out and pay me—she may have paid me £2 in Mr. Pearce's presence; I won't deny it—I can't remember requesting Mr. Allison to sell things for me—I asked him to take some things for me to Busby, of Swan Street, and George and Guy, of Brick Lane, and Perkins, of the Horseshoe—Perkins bought cheeses of me—I may have asked him to write me a letter of recommendation—my dealings were not very extensive; they may have been as many as twelve—those were goods that I got Abraham Weaver to deliver for me; they were not all stolen—no cheeses were taken to Duke Street; they were taken from Duke Street and delivered to Perkins, with billheads of Curme and Co.—I went in the evening to the Allisons from time to time, sometimes I was paid there; friends of theirs would be there—the goods stolen in June were delivered to Mrs. Allison mostly—I think I was dealing with Perkins in June, and with the other names you have mentioned; no others—I began to steal about June—I don't know the date of my conversation with Pearce, but it was when I bought in my own name, and likewise in the name of Hammond—the dealing with Pearce was over a year ago; it may have been over two years—the suggestion to Payne about the sergeants' moss was, I should think, about twelve months ago—my dishonesty had not commenced then—Hammond was a young man who lent me some money, and I asked the use of his name, and he said, "Yes"—that was in order to put his name on my master's books—Hammond knew that the goods were not going to him; in fact, he had gone to the firm and bought things for me—that combination with Hammond lasted until about May,. 1890—it was put an end to by my leaving my lodgings in Duke Street, and going to where I was arrested about a month after—Hammond and Weaver were co-lodgers with me.
Re-examined. It was in consequence of a conversation with my wife that I expressed a wish to see Mitchell; it had nothing to do with the prosecution—in the first instance I thought this matter would be disposed of by the Magistrate—I never gave the Allisons any invoices in the name of Curme and Co.; in fact, they never troubled about it—they generally used to pay and take no notice.—it would not have been possible
to buy goods anywhere at the price I sold to the Allisons—Mrs. Allison, when she paid me, would generally call me on one side and say, "Don't forget next week"—I did not send goods to any people by the carts except the Allisons—I sent cheeses to the Allisons to be delivered elsewhere—Mr. Allison would take them; perhaps he would have a truck—I have had a bye-name of "Hampshee," not Hampshire; it is a phrase for going away.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective Inspector). On the 5th March I was—consulted by the prosecutors about this matter, and proceeded to make inquiries—I called at one or two places, and eventually went to 55, Leadenhall Street, where I found the two prisoners were housekeepers Allison was formerly in the City Police, he ceased tube so in 1884—55 is a double house; they were also housekeepers at 43, up a court—Mr. Evans was with me, and Mr. Parkinson, one of Messrs. Kearsley's managers, and Mr. Turner—I said to the prisoners, "I am an Inspector of the City Police; this is Mr. Turner, and this is Mr. Evans; I want to know from you where you have bought the hams you have been selling to Mr. Turner; it is a serious matter, and you had better be careful, and for safety what you say had better be taken down in writing"—Mr. Parkinson then took the statements down—they said they were willing to give every information—Mr. Parkinson then took down Mrs. Allison's statement; I read it over to her, and she signed it—the male prisoner also made a statement—Mr. Evans took that down—it was read over, and he signed it—I afterwards went to 49, Great Prescott Street, and arrested Curme—on 10th March I went again with Mr. Evans to 55, Leadenhall Street—I saw the male prisoner outside the door—I told him I should charge him with being concerned with Curme in stealing and receiving goods belonging to Kearsley and Tonge—I then handed him over to Drury, and told him to take him to Bishopsgate Station, and wait till I arrived there, when he would be charged—he said nothing—I then went upstairs, and saw Mrs. Allison—I told her I was going to take her into custody, and she would be charged by Mr. Evans with being concerned with Curme, now in custody, with stealing, on the 24th of February last, from the warehouse in Mitre Square, one case containing 100 lbs. weight of bacon and one cheese, value £4 10s.; and further, on the 28th February, 1 cwt. of bacon and two cheeses, value £6; and further, between 1st September, 1890, and 24th February, 1891, with stealing and receiving a quantity of butter, hams, cheese, and tea—I then said, "If you make any answer to the charge, you had better be careful; I will take it down"—she then said, "I have always paid Curme for what I have had; but he may have charged me too much or too little, I don't know; I did not have all the things he has brought here; he used to tell us overnight that I must not touch a certain case, as he wanted it to go elsewhere; I don't know what was in it, as the case would be nailed up; one case he sent my husband with to his own house in Prescott Street; the first bacon I had of Kearsley's I fetched away from Miss King's, where Curme used to lodge. I asked Curme whether he could not send the vans direct from the firm to my house, and he did so in Kearsley and Tonge's cart, and always in the morning before 8.30; I have also bought bacon of Hudson's in London Street, and I bought one or two hams there; I am innocent"—I took her to the station, and read the charge,
and I read the same charge to her husband in his wife's presence—he said, "I wish to state distinctly that I did not know the goods were stolen, as he gave me to understand they were honestly come by"—before their arrest I saw them on the stairs of the building where they are housekeepers while I was making inquiries, and I said to both of them, "I understand that you have been selling things or goods to the clerks in the building"—Allison said, "I don't know;" Mrs. Allison said, "No; I have never sold anything to any clerks; always to labouring men and poor persons "—I made a good many inquiries of persons to whom they had sold; I found no labouring men to whom they had sold; I did find numbers of clerks.
Cross-examined. Some witnesses are here who were clerks in the building—my last conversation with the prisoners was on the 9th; the statements were made on the 5th—I daresay I was there between the 5th and the 9th, for I went to see various clerks there—Curme's arrest was on the evening of the 5th, after the statements had been made—I went to Curme's house, accompanied by a son of the Allisons—Curme was then lodging in Great Prescott Street with his wife; the only reply he made was, "I shall reserve anything I have to say"—he made the same answer to the charge—I found a letter in his pocket which I afterwards produced before the Magistrate.
JOHN ALFRED BROWN . I live at 31, Crane Street, Shoreditch—I am a carman in the employment of MacNamara and Co., who contract with Kearsley and Tonge for cartage—for nine months past I have been driving a light cart for them delivering goods—I received instructions to go to the premises at eight o'clock—I always got there at eight, sometimes at five minutes to eight—I sometimes received goods from Curme immediately I arrived; they were already packed for putting into the cart—he gave mo a delivery-sheet with them—he gave me with the goods a delivery-sheet, with "Allison's, 54, Leadenhall Street," on it—I took the goods there—sometimes Mrs., sometimes Mr. Allison received them—I have taken bacon, cheese, and tea there; the bacon was in cases—Mr. or Mrs. Allison would sign the delivery-sheet, and used to give me 2d. or 3d. for myself—I returned to Curme and gave him the delivery-sheet—it took me about ten or fifteen minutes to get from Kearsley and Tonne's to Leadenhall Street and back, so that I got back before half-past eight—I took goods to Allison's two or three times a week—I first took some about three days after I first worked there—on Saturday, 28th February, I got to the warehouse about five minutes to eight, I think; I backed my cart in and got from Curme a case of bacon and two cheeses, with a delivery-sheet, addressed to Allison, 55, Leadenhall Street—I delivered the goods at Allison's; Mrs. Allison signed the delivery-sheet—sometimes goods were delivered at the front door, and sometimes up the passage—I saw them left on the first floor—I used to take them up; sometimes Mrs. Allison would help me—on 28th February I took the bacon and Mrs. Allison took the cheeses up to the first floor—she gave me 2d. for myself—I took 36 lbs. of tea there loose in a biscuit box.
Cross-examined. About three days after I went into the employment I went to the Allisons, and from time to time afterwards, getting to their premises at eight o'clock, at which time they open—sometimes I have carried the things upstairs—the front door I spoke of is the front door of 55, Leadenhall Street—there is a side door—I took the goods to them
perfectly openly—there was no question of secrecy of any kind that I knew of—I delivered goods there just the same as I delivered them anywhere else—when I went there from July to October, between eight and half-past eight, people and carts were about there in the ordinary way—the delivery-sheets would be signed sometimes in pencil, sometimes in ink—Kearsley and Tonge's name was on the sheet, and Allison's name and address was written on—I only took one side of bacon uncovered there—I said before the Magistrate, "Bacon would be uncovered"—that is wrong—sometimes it used to be in cases.
Re-examined. I said before the Magistrate. "The only difference between the way goods were delivered at Allison's and other goods was in the way they were packed up"—when I took bacon out in the ordinary way it was by itself, and this was packed in cube sugar cases—the tea I took to other places was in tins; this was loose in a biscuit box—when I got there Mr. Allison would be about the place, anywhere—I gave the delivery-sheet to whomever I met, and one of them would sign it—I thought this was a delivery in the ordinary way, as if it came from Kearsley and Tonge's—I always got the 2 1/2 d. or 3d.—the bacon weighed a hundredweight or over.
GEORGE HALES . I am a carman in the employment of McNamara and Co., who do carting for Kearsley and Tonge—I used to get to Kearsley and Tonge's place at 8 a.m., or a little earlier—I had been going there for about five months before the matter was discovered—on my arrival I would see Curme—he has given me things to be delivered at Allison's—when I arrived with the light van he would tell me to back in, and I would do so, and he would put the goods on the van and give me a sheet, and tell me to go and deliver them—I have had whole cheeses, sides of bacon, ham, eggs, and a case on the van—I have had three cheeses at a time, but not more than one side of bacon—I have had about two hams at a time—the goods I delivered at Allison's were the only goods I had on the van—I delivered sometimes to Mr., sometimes to Mrs. Allison; sometimes Mr. Allison would assist me to carry them upstairs, but sometimes he would not be there; I can manage a side of bacon or a cheese—I would get twopence or threepence for doing this; I always got something—either Mr. or Mrs. Allison gave it to me—it took me ten or fifteen minutes to get from Mitre Court to the Allisons and back.
Cross-examined. I always delivered at the front door quite openly—Mrs. Allison sometimes signed the delivery-sheet, sometimes Mr. Allison—so far as I could see there was nothing peculiar in the way the goods were packed up.
Re-examined. I have taken a white Tate or Martineau's cube sugar-case; what was in it I do not know.
HENRY BRUSHHOLTZ . I am a licensed victualler, and keep the Sussex, 51, Leadenhall Street—I know the Allisons—about August or September last year Mrs. Allison told me she had just returned from her holiday, and she had made arrangements with her relations in the country to send her from time to time some bacon, and she said would I mind taking some of it from her in case she got more than she wanted for her own consumption—I replied yes, I would if the quality was right—in October, I think, she brought me a piece to show me the quality; it was very fair, about the same as I had been buying—in October I bought
one piece of her, weighing about 12 or 13 lb.; I paid between 6s. and 7s., 6d. or 6 1/2 d. a lb.—from October to the beginning of March this year I made about four purchases of her of the same kind of bacon—they were always about the same weight and price.
Cross-examined. I gave a fair price for it, the same as I had been paying at my regular dealer's—I know she had been in the country just before my conversation with her, because they live next door to me—I cannot quite recollect when the conversation was, it was when she returned from her holiday—I believe she is a Wiltshire woman—I have known them both for five years as hardworking and respectable people; I see them at work early in the morning and late at night.
Re-examined. They would be employed early and late cleaning the offices—I never noticed Kearsley and Tonge's cart there in the morning.
EDWARD BURKE . I am a clerk at 55, Leadenhall Street, where the Allisons were housekeepers—I have bought hams from Mrs. Allison—she did not tell me where she got them from, or how it was she was selling them—I paid 6d. a lb., I think, for hams, and something less, 5 1/2 d. or less, for bacon—I had four hams and two or three pieces of bacon—I asked her sometimes if she had any, and she said she should have it in the morning.
Cross-examined. I am on the ground floor—I don't think I paid more than 6d. for hams—I may have said before, "I paid 6d. or 6 1/2 d. for the hams, and bacon 5d. or 5 1/2 d," I could not say for certain if 5d. or 5 1/2 d. is correct—I said that before the Magistrate, and it is true—my dealings with her were perfectly open—I have known them for as long as I have been in the Office, seven years, as perfectly respectable people; I should have trusted them on any occasion.
By the JURY. I could not tell if there was any brand on the hams, or if they were American or Irish—I have had one piece of streaky, and one hock-piece, a shoulder-piece.
THOMAS CUNDY . I am manager at the Crown aid Anchor public-house, Leadenhall Street-—I have known the Allisons for over five years—I saw Mrs. Allison in my bar in January last; she asked me if I could do with some gammons of bacon—I said yes, I could at a price; she said the price would be 6d. per lb.—she said she had them from the country—I bought two hams, I think, on that occasion—these are the receipts for the hams I bought, we call them gammons.
Cross-examined. These were perfectly open transactions, she used to bring the goods in the middle of the day, uncovered, without a basket; there was no secret whatever that I could see—she may have said she had the hams from Hampshire.
By the JURY. I noticed no brand on any of the gammons.
JAMES HENRY TURNER . I am a grocer, at King Street, Leadenhall Street—Mrs. Allison was a customer of mine—on one occasion she asked me what I gave for my hams—I asked her what made her ask me that question, and she said, "I have some nice hams"—I said, "Where did you get them from?"—she said, "Mr. Hampshire, manager to a provision merchant's; and he is privileged by the firm to buy of them to sell again for his own benefit; he has gone into partnership with my son Alfred, and asked me if I could get him some customers, so that by the time they started they would have a small connection "—on 28th July last year I had the first two hams from her—I gave her 10s., they
weighed twenty pounds—I bought them from Mrs. Allison—I have bought twenty-three hams in all from her at different times—I have bought, I think, two or three small pieces of bacon from her for private use, they weighed two or three pounds each—on another occasion I had tins of salmon and sardines from her—she told me where she got the salmon and sardines from—I could not tell you the name, it was a foreign name in Jewry Street.
Cross-examined. I never saw Curme till I saw him in the dock—I have since heard that he was known to some of my customers by the name of Hampshire—Mrs. Allison had a son Alfred, a butcher in Leadenhall Market—she always came to me openly, and the goods were delivered to me openly.
By the JURY. I noticed no brands on any of the hams—I could not swear whether they were American or Irish.
ERNEST HENRY DRURY (702 City). I have seen Kearsley and Tonge's cart delivering goods for the Allisons—I have seen Allison carrying in a cheese from the cart—I have bought half a ham and a piece of bacon from him—they did not tell me where they got the things from—I was called by Mitchell to—cake Allison to the station—on the way there he said, "I never thought it would come to this; I am as innocent as a new born babe. Why, I said to him, 'Harry, are these things all straight?' and he said, 'Of course they are, Joe; you don't think I should do this if they were not, and run the risk of losing my place'; of course that eased my mind. I wish I had never seen him. I paid 6 1/2 d. and 6d. for the ham."
Cross-examined. I have been actually speaking to Allison when he has been taking in these things, and I have seen him signing a delivery-sheet when I have been there.
Re-examined. Twice, I think, I saw him take these things in when I was on my beat.
EDMUND HARLEY PLAYLE . I am manager of Kearsley and Tonge's provision department—the average wholesale price per pound of these sides of bacon would be from 7 1/2 d. to 5d.; 5d. would be for the Canadian bacon, and 7Jd. for best bacon—American cheeses would be 6d. a pound, 56s.—the wholesale price of hams is 54s. to 56s.; 6d. a pound—the sides of bacon are sent out in bales, or loose, not packed in sugar boxes.
The prisoners received good characters.
CURME— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. JOSEPH ALLISON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. EMMA ALLISON— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 13th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MUIR and MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
WILLIAM GEORGE HOBBS . I am second clerk at the North London Police-court—on 14th February I took notes on the hearing of a summons, Twynam v. Gallander—this is the summons; it was signed by Mr. Corser, the Magistrate, on 12th February—on 14th February Annie Twynam was sworn and gave evidence on her own behalf—these are the notes I took;
she said, "I am the wife of Frederick Twynam, of 14, Annersley Road. The defendant married my mother, and took away an iron bedstead, palliasse, feather bed, bolster and two pillows, six chairs, one table, a looking-glass, washstand, and two sets of fender and fire-irons, two boxes, and two boxes containing wearing apparel and cretonne; the total value is £10. I bought them from mother three years ago; this is the receipt. I had to go and see mother three weeks ago, and then I saw linoleum, curtains, feather pillow, aprons, black bag, and a blanket, two satin caps, three sheets, and six towels, value altogether £2 3s. I had lent them to her. I asked the defendant for them; he refused to give them up."
Cross-examined. No other parties were present on that occasion—there was no professional gentleman on either side.
HARRY TITTERTON . I am chief clerk at the North London Police-court—I was present on 23rd February at the adjourned hearing of this summons, and took notes of the evidence; the defendant was in Court—the first witness was Alfred Mason—he said, "lama potman of 3, Stanmore Place, Camden Town. Three years ago last February I saw this paper signed in the red book produced. I saw Mr. Twynam pay £10 to Mrs. Taylor "—then Frederick Twynam said, "I am a printer, and the husband of complainant, and live at 14, Annersley Road. In February, 1888, I paid £10 to Mrs. Taylor for her goods; it was my wife's money "—William and Jane Gallander were then called for the defence, and then the plaintiff was re-called, and this book was put into her hand—she said, "I gave the money to my husband, he brought me this receipt, and it has been in my possession ever since. They were ten sovereigns I gave my husband. I did not pay myself, because I was called to a nursing job. It was at my request the witness Mason went; I paid him for going "—the case was adjourned to March 9th, when I took the notes—Annie Twynam was called, and said, "On 14th February, 1888, I was in custody, but it was on 26th December I gave ray husband the money; I did speak to the police-constable in Court today "—that appears on my note Def ore the evidence of Charles Garner—it was taken before—Charles Garner was then called, and Jane Gallander and Frederick Twynam were re-called—he said, "My wife gave me the money to pay for the things about the end of December, 1887; I was to pay her supposed mother when she came to me; she was living in Camden Street then. Complainant was then nursing at East Dulwich. She was taken into custody in January. She was tried at the Central Criminal Court; no one defended her that I am aware of. She gave it me in case she was not nursing. I was married to her in 1872, at the Registrar's Office, Ampthill Square"—the prisoner produced a certificate of marriage—Alfred Mason was then re-called, and said, "I had money of the husband; I used to have shillings now and again of him. Mr. Twynam asked me to go. If Mrs. Twynam swears she gave me money on that occasion, it is not true; she didn't ask me to go. I saw Mrs. Taylor sign her name to the book and Mr. Twynam paid the ten sovereigns over. It was in the middle of February, 1888. This was at 78, Camden Street, in the second-floor back "—Jane Gallander was then re-called, and then Annie Twynam, who said, "I wrote the list in the book A, and the heading that was made out in December. I put the word 'February,' because she said she could not part with them till
February. My husband put the 14th "—the case was then adjourned without any day being fixed—I saw a certificate handed up to the Bench; this is it, to the best of my belief—that shows that he was married to Mary Ann Hayward.
JANE GALLANDER . I was formerly married to Mr. Taylor—I have been married three times—my maiden name was Donaldson; it was Sinclair when I married Mr. Taylor—it was never Hayward—my daughter was never known as Mary Ann Hayward; she was not married to Frederick Twynam in 1872, she was a mere child then—she will be thirty-three on the 28th of next month—she was born in 1858. (The prisoner, "This is not my mother, her name is Smith, she has had four husbands")—in August, 1885, I went to live at 78, Great Camden Street, and occupied a second floor front room; Mrs. Dyer was the landlady—this is my rent-book—I had some furniture, the same which was afterwards the subject of a dispute between me and my daughter at the North London Police-court—on 8th September, 1889, I removed to 15, Peach Street, and stayed there till June, 1890; from there I went to 246, Kensal Road, and stayed there till November 10th, 1890, when I removed to my daughter's house, 14, Annersley Road with my furniture—I was still Mrs. Taylor—Mr. Twynam was there, living with my daughter—I met Mr. Gallander there, who is now my husband—on February 6 I removed my furniture to No. 9 opposite; my daughter and her husband were present—I said, "Annie, I wish you would stop while I take my furniture out of the house "—she said, "No, I must go back to the lady I am nursing, but Fred will see to that," and she said to him, "Let mother have all her things," because they were scattered all over the house—they tied up my feather bed in a sheet, and put it on the bedstead, and helped to carry them down into the passage, and then they were moved to No. 9 by a Mr. Robins and his wife—on 22nd January my daughter and Frederick Twynam came to No. 9 with two friends and picked out some things which I had moved by mistake, and accused me of stealing them—I was taken in custody to the policestation—I said that I had taken them by mistake, and admitted that they belonged to my daughter—I was brought up in custody next day, and Frederick Twynam gave evidence against me—the Magistrate discharged me—on February 3rd I saw Frederick Twynam and my daughter and a man named Mason and my son, James Sinclair, near the workhouse gate; two women came and asked me to go and nurse a lady; I went with them in the direction of the workhouse, and when I got near the gate my son and daughter and the others took hold of me and pushed me into the workhouse, and my daughter said to the clerk at the gate that I was insane, and I was detained eighteen days—I was discharged on February 18th as sane—when I got out my husband told me of this claim for my furniture, and I went to the Police-court on the 22nd and gave evidence—my husband had been to the workhouse, and told me about the claim to the furniture—my daughter had never claimed it before—I gave evidence on all the hearings, and the summons was adjourned—this receipt, signed "Jane Taylor," with a stamp in this book, is not signed by me—I do not know whose writing it is, but the list of furniture above it is my daughter's writing, and so are the figures, "Feb. 14th."—Frederick Twynam did not call at my house, 78, Great Camden Street, nor about that time, nor did Mason call—Frederick Twynam did not
pay me ten sovereigns about that date, or any money at all—my daughter never paid me ten sovereigns for the furniture, nor did any one—Frederick Twynam never called at 78, Camden Street while I was there, nor did Mason, but I had seen him—I was doing a job of cooking in Exeter Street, Strand, in February, 1888, and slept away from 78, Great Camden Street, but I kept the room on while I was away—I was a weekly lodger, but I went there every four weeks, and paid the rent—when I was not there my room was kept locked, and Mrs. Dyer had the key—the book containing the receipt is an old rent-book of mine, which was in my daughter's possession while I was away at the workhouse—it was in one of my boxes when I took my furniture to her house—it was all open, and when I removed to No. 9 I found it had been ransacked—I did not miss the book then, but I missed many things.
Cross-examined. I have had the book more than three or four years. (It had an almanack in it for 1883 and 1884)—all these entries are not in my writing—this is Mr. Tucker's writing, and this is my daughter's—I had not seen the book for years before I was taken to the workhouse, and did not see it again till I was at Dalston Policecourt—it was produced as my signature I have not got any of my writing here—I was examined by a doctor at the workhouse, and was under his care during the eighteen days I was there, and examined by him every day; I was with the paupers and the rest of the people; I made repeated demands to go, I said I should be glad to get home—I said I would see a magistrate, but they said I had better stop a few days—they did not say that I was not sane; there was nothing the matter with me, and they said I might go—I do not know Mason well, I had spoken to him, I think it was in High Street, Camden Town, at the end of November, 1888—I had seen him before that—I was in the Strand cooking from February to May, 1888; before that I was assisting in a public-house at St. James Road, Upper Holloway, but I was at home a few days between the two—I was at Camden Street some days at the beginning of February—I do not recollect seeing my daughter the Christmas before or in January; I cannot say where she was living in December, 1887—I saw her in 1885, but not again till 1890—I am prepared, to swear that—I did not know where she was or any thing about her—I did not meet her; Frederick Twynam asked me if I should like to go and see her—I met him at his mother's—I went to his house in 1886 to see after the prisoner's children; her husband's mother had been looking after them, I believe—I saw them during that time; I do not know where the mother was—I heard the prisoner say just now that she is not my daughter; that is not true—I have never gone by the name of Smith—I have not been married four times, as she says—I was very indignant when I was charged with stealing these things; it was a false charge—I swore that I had never been charged at a Police-court before; I had been falsely charged with felony, but I forgot that—my daughter and Twynam charged me with stealing a feather bed; but I told the Magistrate it belonged to me—I was charged again soon afterwards; my son committed a serious burglary in Coldharbour Lane, where I was nursing, and he came upstairs and put all the money into my pocket, and when they wanted to know whose dress it was I said that it was mine—my son and the other man put it there in order to bring a charge against me—I
forgot that at the Police-court—I was committed for trial, and acquitted—that was three times with this—I was not in want of money in, February—I was locked up in a lunatic asylum at Hanwell in 1884, and came out in 1885; I had money then, and I had a little furniture at a friend's, Mrs. Ham wick's; she has been dead some years—I had some money there—they gave me a sovereign when I came out of the asylum—I went to 126, Arlington Road, but did not stay there, because my daughter came and took me out of the asylum—I was there eleven months—that was the second time I was there—she has tried to put me away twice—I have been each time wrongfully placed there—when I came out at first, I had to go back again—I got this furniture in 1885; Mr. Shaw gave me the money to get it; he is dead—I mean to declare that my daughter took me out of the asylum in 1885; I never saw her again till 1890, though I saw her children and her mother—I do not know where she was between 1885 and 1890—I did not trouble to inquire, I did not ask her where she had been—I did not inquire about her when she was in prison, I did not think it worth while—Gallagher had been living with her as a lodger for several years—he was living in the same room for six days before he was married—this is my ordinary signature to this letter—I swear I never received £10 from Frederick Twynam—I did not tell my son, James Tucker, at the end of 1888 that I had sold my furniture—I saw him in 1888.
Re-examined I was in the habit of seeing my daughter's children at Twynam's mother's house—Twynam is the father of my daughter's children—I was at home at Camden Street a few days in 1888—on 14th February I was in the Strand, cooking; it was St. Valentine's Day—the charge of stealing at Lambeth Police-court was, I think, on 23rd January—I cannot tell you the date of the feather bed, it is over ten years ago—the man who accused me of stealing the feather bed admitted before the Magistrate that I had lent it to him, and the Magistrate ordered it to be delivered up to me—it was my son James Sinclair who committed the burglary; the same son who helped to put me into the workhouse—he was convicted and sent to prison for twelve months, and I was acquitted by the same Jury—I was at Hanwell eleven months; I was let out for a month on trial, and then discharged, and did not go back to confinement again—that was 1884 or 1885.
MARY DYER . I live at 80, Camden Street, and am the wife of Samuel Dyer, a shopman—in 1885 and up till October, 1888, I was living at 78, Camden Street—I left Mrs. Gallander at 78, Camden Street when I left; she was then Mrs. Taylor—I never saw a man named Twynam there—I saw the prisoner Annie Twynam there once; in 1885 in must have been—since 1885 I have not seen Annie Twynam there or anywhere else—I used to open the door at 78—when Mrs. Twynam was out she used to pay the rent monthly, and the details were entered in this book weekly—Mrs. Taylor had some furniture in her room at 78, Camden Street; the same furniture was there all the time she stayed there.
Cross-examined. When anybody wanted to see Mrs. Gallander or Mrs. Taylor they would ring the bell twice; Mrs. Taylor would then answer it herself if she was at home—I was always downstairs, and could see who came to see her; I could not see who it was if the door was shut—I always opened the door if the bell was rung twice, to save her coming downstairs—if she was out I would open it.
ELIZABETH ROBINS . I am the wife of William Robins, a bricklayer—on the day Mrs. Gallander removed from 14, Annersley Road to 9, Annersley Road, I went with her between 3 and 4 p.m. to 14, Annersley Road—I there saw Frederick Twynam, and later on I saw Annie Twynam—they had some conversation npstairs; I do not know what it was—I heard her say, "Fred, let mother have her furniture"—I assisted Mrs. Gallander in removing some of her furniture that evening—I saw Fred Twynam while it was being removed; he was standing at the back parlour door, and could see the removal going on, because it was being taken out of the front parlour—he helped with the bed in the afternoon; he did not assist in the removal in the evening.
Cross-examined. My husband was there when the furniture was removed in the evening, no one else—I was not paid for assisting; I did so as a friend—when the prisoner came up and spoke to the prosecutrix they were on friendly terms, only they had a few words about her marriage, saying she should not marry a third time—when she called out, "Fred, let mother have her things," she was in the passage—I was in the front parlour; I distinctly heard her say that—after Mrs. Twynam went out of the house Frederick Twynam helped Mrs. Gallander down with the bed—that was all I saw him do—I did not hear him say she was just to select any one or two little things she had out of his things—I was in the front parlour—I could not hear everything—the prisoner went away—I did not see Fred Twynam again till the evening—the things were downstairs ready for removal in the meantime, and were removed in the evening—he was there standing in the passage when they were removed; I was there too—I and my husband assisted in the removal—he carried none of the things there, and took no part in the removal—I did not hear him telling the prosecutrix that she should not take any of these things or any of the prisoners things—I did not see the prisoner there after the afternoon—I did not hear him say that if the prisoner was there she would not allow the prosecutrix to remove these things—I could not hear everything that occurred.
Re-examined. Frederick Twynam only assisted with the bed in the afternoon—in the evening the removing was done; he was standing by the back parlour door, looking on.
WILLIAM GEORGE FORREST (Y 361). On 22nd January Frederick Twynam gave Mrs. Gallander into my custody; Annie Twynam was there at the time—they first spoke to me in the Hargrave Park Road, and they both said they wished to give Mrs. Gallander into custody for stealing several household articles—then I went to 9, Annersley Road and saw Mrs. Gallander, and they charged her with stealing certain articles which they named—they were the articles afterwards entered on the charge-sheet—Gallander, when charged, said that she took the things in a mistake when she moved to No. 9—all this took place in Mrs. Gallander's room—when the Twynams charged her with stealing these things no mention or claim was made of any other articles than those included in the charge-sheet—the Twynams went with the prisoner and me to the station—after she was charged I went with Twynam And the prisoner to 9, Annersley Road, where Mrs. Gallander was then living, and we went into her room—they took away a hair-brush, table-cover, holland apron, and meat-plate—those were the only things they made claim to after searching the room—when they first
charged her they said nothing about the list when it was given to me as to whether it was complete or not.
Cross-examined. They looked over the room—the prisoner was then locked up—I was with both Twynams when we returned to her room all the time—I did not hear all that passed—I do not remember them saying that it would be necessary to go to the Police-court to establish their claim to the things—I made no note of the occurrence.
Re-examined. They said first they wanted to give Mrs. Gallander into custody for stealing some things, and then they went to the house and picked out some things there—nothing was suggested then as to a further search in my presence—both of them suggested the further search—all the things were entered on the charge sheet—Mrs. Gallander saw the first, not the second lot—when the Twynams picked out the things I asked them whether that was all; they said that was all they could see.
HERBERT SMITH (Sergeant Y R 2). At 3 p.m. on the 22nd January I was in charge of Upper Holloway Police-station when Mrs. Gallander was brought in by Forrest—the prisoner charged her, and I entered the charge—all things mentioned in the charge-sheet were mentioned at one time—I copied it from the list which the prisoner handed to me, a slip of paper—that was when the charge was first made, not after they had been back to the house—the list does not include the hair-brush, table-cover, holland apron, and meat-plate.
THOMAS FORD (Sergeant N 10). At half-past three on the 9th April I took the prisoner into custody, and charged her with perjury, by the Magistrate's directions—she, Frederick Twynam and Mason were together—she made no reply.
Cross-examined. I was at the Police-court on the hearing of this issue about the ownership of the furniture—it was adjourned sine die.
Re-examined. I was in Court on the 14th February, and heard this said: "I was in custody, but it was on the 26th December; I gave my husband my money. I did speak to this constable to-day"—the constable was Garner—before the prisoner gave evidence I heard her speak to Garner; it was before the beginning of the Court, about two—Garner was sitting just inside the Police-court door; the prisoner entered the Police-court and walked to the other end and sat down, and on seeing Garner she went and sat by the side of him; I was standing by his side, and she said, "Are you come here about my case?"—he said, "Yes"—I moved away and heard no more of the conversation; they sat talking together.
MARY SULLIVAN . I am a female warder at Holloway Prison—on 31st January, 1888, the prisoner came into my custody, and was discharged on 29th January, 1889, I suppose; that would be twelve months; she had a sentence of twelve months—during the first three months of her imprisonment she would not be allowed to communicate with any person outside unless the governor gave her special permission—I don't know if she had special permission.
Cross-examined. I could not tell from memory, I should have to refer to the book, which is not here.
MRS. GALLANDER (Re-examined). This list does not contain all the furniture I had at 9, Annersley Road; these are the principal items—
these articles were in my room at 9, Annersley Road at the time the police came for me.
GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
JANE GALLANDER . On 14th February, 1881, I had a room at 78, Camden Street, but on that day I was in the Strand cooking—I never signed this receipt, "Jane Taylor," in this book—I know Twynam did not pay me any money on account of furniture on 14th February, 1888—I never saw the prisoner at my room.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were not in my room in August or September, or a Saturday afternoon—I was not at home on February 14th.
MARY DYER . I live at 80, Camden Street—in 1888 Mrs. Gallander, who was then Mrs. Taylor, lodged with me the whole year—I never saw the prisoner there; I don't know him; I opened the door to persons who came.
ELIZABETH ROBINS . I went with Mrs. Gallander and helped to remove some furniture from No. 14 to 9, Annersley Road, in January, on the Tuesday after Christmas—neither of the Twynams made any objection.
Prisoner's Defence. I have said the truth all through.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
PHILLIS BOOTY . I am the wife of Charles James Booty, of 21, Richmond Gardens, Forest Gate—the prisoner, came into my service on 16th February last as a domestic servant—on 14th March, about twenty or twenty-five minutes to eleven in the morning, I asked her to go up and clean the bath-room out; she went up and was there about a quarter of an hour—no one else was there—my bedroom is three or four stairs up from the bath-room—when she came down I asked her if she had cleaned the bath-room—she said "Yes"—my daughter went up to take something to put on my bed, and she called out loudly, so that the prisoner could
hear, "Mother, mother, your bedroom is on fire"—I at once ran to the police-station and returned with Inspector Crawford, and we went up to my bedroom—I saw nothing but smoke—after the fire was put out I went into the bath-room with the inspector—it had not been cleaned—when I last left it there were no matches there that I know of—there might have been—there was no one in the house but my daughter-in-law, myself, and the prisoner.
MICHAEL CRAWFORD (Inspector). On 14th March Mrs. Booty came to the station and I went across with her to her house—I ran upstairs to the first floor front bedroom—on opening the door the room was full of smoke, and flames were issuing from a cupboard in the left-hand corner, nearly opposite the door—the heat was so great I had to retire for a minute—I obtained water and threw it on the flames, which were then reaching to the ceiling—the fire was in the cupboard—the flames came through the top of the cupboard—there were folding doors to it—one was a little open—with several pails of water I succeeded in putting the flames out—on a shelf in the cupboard I found a portion of a doll's flock bed had been burnt, a bonnet box, a metal teapot melted; a greater portion of the cupboard was burnt away, partly the side and front; the wall was scorched, and the ceiling also, and the paper burnt; at the bottom of the shelf I found a portion of a burnt match, a wooden one, and on the shelf I found portions of two more burnt matches of the same kind, matches that only strike on their own box—in the bath-room I found a portion of a box of matches, like the others—the prisoner was on the landing, and Mrs. Booty said in her presence, "That wicked girl has set fire to the house"—she said she had never done it, and also said, "Oh, I have never been up the stairs"—Mrs. Booty said, "I sent you up to clean the bath-room"—she made no reply to that.
EDWARD SMITH . I am chief superintendent of the West Ham Fire Brigade—at ten minutes past eleven on 14th March I was called to Mrs. Booty's house—I made an examination of the bedroom, where there had been a fire—it was a very suspicious fire—I can't say how it originated—it occurred at a time of day when there was no light or any gas in the room, and it was not necessary to take any light into the cupboard; it was perfectly daylight, light enough to see anything—the matches were shown to me by the inspector; they were then at the bottom of the cupboard; he said they had been on the shelf—it would take great heat to melt a metal teapot.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. A. WILLIS Prosecuted.
JOHN TAYLOR . I live at 3, Roscoe Street, Canning Town, and am a hammerman—on Saturday night, 29th March, a little after twelve, I was going home, and in Woodstock Street I was stopped, knocked down, and robbed by the prisoner and another man; they took out of my right-hand trousers pocket a purse containing half a sovereign, five threepenny bits, and a knife—I shouted "Police!"—the police came and took the prisoner, the other man ran away—this is my purse, in it is a little pay
ticket for my wages; this is my knife—I was hurt at the bottom of my back.
Cross-examined. I was not drunk; I had had some drink—I was charged with being drunk and disorderly—you got off my chest out of the gutter, and got up against the wall, where you thought the policeman would run by you, but he saw you.
WILLIAM LEWIS (Constable). On the night of 29th March, at a quarter-past 12, I was in Victoria Dock Road, at the corner of Woodstock Street—I heard three or four shouts of "Police!" and ran up and saw the prosecutor lying on his back in the gutter by the kerb; I saw the prisoner jump back from the side of the kerb into a doorway—I seized him—he said, "What are you holding me for?" I said, "You will see later on"—the other man ran away; he was ten yards from the prosecutor when I first" saw him, I should say—I took the prisoner into the middle of the road—the prosecutor said, "The worst of it is I have lost my purse with half a sovereign and some threepenny pieces "—I watched the prisoner, and saw his hand in his right-hand jacket pocket, and he took the purse out and dropped it at his side—I picked it up and said to the prosecutor, "All right, I have got your purse, he has just dropped it"—the prisoner did not say anything—I took him to the station, and charged him with stealing—he made no statement—I searched him and found a knife, not the prosecutor's, one shilling, and a penny in bronze—I found in the purse half a sovereign, five threepenny pieces, and this piece of paper—the prosecutor was charged with being drunk and incapable.
Cross-examined. You made no offer to move—you could not have got away from me—as the other man was running I heard some money drop—the purse was not in the middle of the road when I took you there—you could not have escaped before I got to you—it is twenty-five yards from the corner of the street to where I turned into Woodstock Street—you could have seen me coining round the corner from where you stood if you had liked, but you jumped back into the doorway.
HENRY TAYLOR (K 184). On the night of 24th March I was with Lewis—I was going off duty—I heard someone shouting "Police!"—we turned the corner, and I saw the prosecutor on the ground in the gutter, with the prisoner and another man on the top of him—both Lewis and I got there together—the other man got away, and Lewis caught the prisoner in the doorway—when I first saw the prosecutor he was in the gutter, and the prisoner was kneeling down on the kerb over him, not kneeling on him, but over him—the other man was on the other side; they were the only three men in the street—I heard some money drop as the other man ran away—I found this halfpenny and knife between where the prisoner was apprehended and where the prosecutor was lying on the pavement—when the prisoner saw me he jumped back into the doorway.
Cross-examined. You were kneeling over the prosecutor.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that if he had done anything he could have run away.
In his defence he said that he was innocent, that he was going home, and on passing the man was accused.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
FLORENCE HILL . I am a niece of Charles Brian, and live with him at 139, Chobham Road—on Tuesday night, 24th March, I saw this bronze statue safe at half-past ten in the front parlour on a table by the window—the value of it is about £10—the place was safe and the window shut—we missed it next morning at eleven o'clock, which is the time I get up.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I shut the windows—there was a fastening on the window; it was not broken next morning, but the window was open—the servant opened the door, and went into the room first, and she called to me—I had only just given her the key of the room door—she had not opened the window—it was open when I went in, and I had followed her into the room—she gets up about half-past seven—I had the key upstairs with me—no damage was done to the window; it was wide open.
JAMES MENZIES (K 308). At a quarter to five a.m. on 25th March I was on duty in the Ashland Road, and I saw the prisoner there with another man—after they passed me they went into the Crownfield Road, and the man not in custody had this bag with something in it, which he dropped into a front garden in the Crownfield Road, and they went away in separate directions—I followed the prisoner some little distance, and lost sight of him—I came back and stood up in a doorway for five or ten minutes, so that no one could see me—the prisoner came back and walked up and down two or three times, and had a look round, and then took the bag from the garden, and was walking away with it when I stopped him—the sack contained this statue—I said to him, "What have you got there?"—he said, "It is nothing to do with me, mate "—I said, "I don't believe you; I shall charge you with unlawful possession "—I took him to the station—on him was found a knife, key, and a box of ordinary matches—the key might be his own latch-key—the loss of the statue was reported at the station, and it was identified—I met the men about a quarter of a mile from the house; they were coming from the direction of it.
Cross-examined. You were in Ashland Road when I saw you first—the other man carried the bag—you were looking towards me—as you passed the other man was walking alongside of you, quite close to you; you were both in the middle of the road, you were the nearer to me—I walked pretty sharply after you—I was ten or twelve yards from the men when they got to Crownfield Road—I saw the man put the sack in the garden; he went round Second Avenue towards Leytonstone—you did not touch the sack in Ashland Road—you came down the road three times and up three times before you took it up—you got about eight yards from the garden before I stopped you—you had the bag in your hand when I took you—I did not say, "I will have you, anyhow."
JAMES HARVEY (Inspector K). At 5.30 on 25th March the prisoner was brought to the station by Menzies and charged with unlawful possession of this statue—I went to 139, Chobham Road in consequence of information—the front parlour window there had been forced open, apparently by a chisel, about an inch—I was told that something was missing—a table was shown me inside the room—I went back to the station and charged the prisoner with burglary; he made no reply.
Cross-examined. The window was not broken—no door had been
opened that I know of—there were marks on the bottom of the window and on the sill; I do not know how long those marks had been there.
GUILTY of receiving. —He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Chelmsford in February, 1890.— Six Months' Hard Labour. ,
369. GEORGE PAGE(35), alias FRASER , PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences from William Wilfred Shuker £5, and other sums from other persons, with intent to defraud.[Imprisonment: see original trial image.] And
(370). JOHN PAGE (26) PLEADED GUILTY to conspiracy to defraud various persons by false pretences of their money. John Page also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in June, 1889, in the name of John Payne— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour each
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
372. JAMES LAWRENCE (74) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling £53 12s. 2d. and £2 18s. 9d; also £4 17s. 1d.; also £3 13s. 3d; also £54 17s. 6d; also £194 17s. 7d.; also £52 8s. 9d., £65, and £65 of the Loyal George Chester Lodge, of his masters, of which he was a beneficial, owner. He received a good character.— Judgment respited. And
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended Worms.
FREDERICK FOX (Police Inspector P). Prior to March 13th I had Croft and Collins under observation, and on that night saw them in the Old Kent Road—I was with Garner, Cooper, and Robinson—Croft and. Collins entered the Dun Cow, and came out about 10.15 p.m.—I stopped them, and gave a signal; Garner and Cooper seized Croft, and I seized Collins's right hand, and took this bag from her; she struggled, screamed, and threw from her left hand what appeared to be sixpences, and I heard something like money falling—we took them into a china, shop, and they were searched—Cooper handed me ten bad florins and ten bad shillings, and Garner handed me a bad florin and shilling found on Croft—a woman in the shop searched Collins, and I searched her bag; and. found 10s. in good money, a bad sixpence, and two eggs—I said to Croft "These are counterfeit coins that were found on you; you will be charged
with having in your possession counterfeit coin with intent to utter it"—he said, "We are done; I can see how it is," holding up the counterfeit sixpence to the woman—I said, "This is a counterfeit sixpence," she made no answer—we took them in cabs to the Police-station, and on the way I said to Collins, "You are not married to this man"; she said, "I do not know whether I am or not "—I said at the station, "What is your name?" she said "Sarah"—"I said, "What is your other name?" she said "I'm blowed if I know; I am sorry I can't think of it"—I said "Where do you live?" she said "I live anywhere, where I can; I have got no home"—I said "Well, give me your surname now?" she said, "Well, Collins, if you like"—shortly afterwards Hathway and Bent handed me two sixpences in Collins' presence, and I said to her, "These two counterfeit sixpences were found close to where I arrested you "—she said, "Yes"—the one found on her was of 1887, and the two found by the witnesses are of 1886—I found a key on Croft, which I took to 74, Tilson Street, Peckham; it opened the front door; I went upstairs, and met the prisoner Worms at the top—Cooper was with me, and I had placed officers back and front—Worms said, "You can't come up here; go down. What is your business?"—I said, "I am an Inpector of police; stand where you are "—I went into a room at the top of the stairs—there are three rooms downstairs and three up, and an ante-room half-way up—the door of the back bedroom was open; but a key which I found on Croft fits that door—we found in that room these coining implements (produced)—I took Worms into the room, and said, "What is your name?"—she said, "Sarah Worms"—I said, "Where do you live?"—she said, "5, Manor Place, Walworth"—I said, "What are you doing here?"—she said, "I have come here to see after the children, a cousin, a relation of the woman"—I said, "What woman?"—she said, "Clark or Miles came to me last night"—I said, "What is her name?"—she said, "Langollen or Langston "—I said, "Where does she live? "—she said, "I don't know where to find her, I have got her address at home; the woman said Mrs. Miles wished you to go and see if the children have got any food; I had Alice Clark with me, she is the woman's child"—I said, "Are you related to them?"—she said, "The female has chared for me "—I said, "Do you know anything about the man?"—she said, "I know the man who lives with her, I have seen him six times "—I left her in charge of Sergeant Cooper, and shut the door and questioned the girl Draper, after which I went back to Worms, and said, "You came here, you first tried to push this door open, and then got the key and unlocked it, then you called the girl to empty the solution out of these jars and helped her to do it; you are well acquainted with Draper and with his woman and their doings; I shall arrest you for being concerned with them in possessing coining implements and aiding and abetting in making counterfeit coin "—she said, "I know I knew them, but I had only just come when you came here "—I packed all the things in a box and took them and the prisoner to the station—the prisoner said, "I knew they were in prison, two men came and told me what they were in for, but you will find the woman's address at my house"—I went to 5, Manor Place, the address Worms gave, and entered with a latchkey found on h«r, and with another key I entered the parlour and took away certain things, among which was this correspondence:—
"Dear Auntie, If you have a gent call on you for a reference you will know how to act; I have given out that I am a jobbing tailor, sometimes out and sometimes at home at work. I have been here about two months in the name of Henry Gibbs. Do not forget I have been at the house three months since I left your place.—Yours truly, HENRY GIBBS"—I also found this letter "B. "(From H, Kemp, jun., to Mr. Worms, 5, Manor Place, Walworth, inquiring whether H. Gibbs, who was about to take his house at eight shillings a week, would make a good tenant)—I showed her the letters, and said that they showed that she recommended Croft to take the house—she said, "There may be two of that name; I had two Wilsons lodge at my house"—I said, "And I see the names of Croft and Collins written in this book close together"—she said, "That is only my account book'"—I said, "I have also found this money, £17 1s., in a box at your house"—she said, "That is my rent money"—I said, "I have brought your rent-book away; I see it is in the name of Sarah Welpayer"—she said, "Yes"—next day I went again to 5, Manor Place, and saw Garner searching the parlour—he produced this piece of composition—I said to the prisoner at the Police-court, "This is a piece of a mould which was found in the pantry of your house"—she said, "It "is a piece of sapolio I use for cleaning.
Cross-examined by Collins. I saw something in your hand which appeared to be a sixpence, and immediately afterwards I heard something fall in the road.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. "Worms is a housekeeper, and the address she gave was perfectly correct; it is about a mile and a half from where the other prisoners lived—this pantry was enclosed; there was a good deal of rubbish in it—she did not say that she let lodgings and could not be answerable for all the rubbish lodgers left behind them—I wrote down everything the prisoners said—no counterfeit money was found on "Worms or in her house, and no implements of coining—she was at the top of the landing, and not in the room at all till I took her in—I arrested her five days after the other prisoners, and she continued to live at the address she gave me—the girl Draper was rather frightened; she heard me say I was a policeman—I questioned her, and extracted information—I told her to tell the truth, but I did not tell her it would be better for her to give a good account of herself or I might take her in custody—she did not say, "solution out of the jar"—she said, "stuff"—when I told Worm I should arrest her she said, "I know, I know them; I had only just come when you came here "—it was not suggested that she lived in the house; she lived at her own lodging-house.
WILLIAM COOPER (Detective Sergeant T). I was with Inspector Fox and two constables on 13th March; I saw the prisoners drinking in the Dun,. Cow public-house, and when they came out I seized them—we got them into a dairy-shop, and I searched Croft and found in his ticket pocket ten counterfeit florins and ten counterfeit shillings wrapped separately in newspaper, and 4s. 6d. silver and 11 1/2 d. good money loose in his trousers pocket—I handed them to Fox; I also found two keys—I saw the woman in Fox's hands struggling violently and screaming; I saw a bag in her hand, and saw her wave her hand—on the 18th I went with Fox to 74, Tilson Road, he let himself in with a key; we went upstairs and met the prisoner Worms, who said, "You cannot come up here; what do you want,
go down; what is your business?"—Fox said, he was a police-officer, and told her to stand aside—I searched a room there; it was open; I found this black bag, containing some quicksilver, four battery screws, a piece of metal, a small saw, two pocket knives, two files, a piece of composition, a piece of new wire, and in this basket four stamps, some battery wire, six plates, and a wineglass, and on the table two basins, wet; they had just been emptied; a spouted pot, plaster of Paris, sand, four bottles of acid solution, two ladles for melting, a pair of bellows, an iron stirrer to stir the metal, two small brushes, one metal plate, six batteries, three jars, a pair of scissors, and a jug—the basket was by the side of the wall, packed up.
CHARLES GARNER (Detective Officer), I was with Fox when Croft and Collins were arrested—I searched Croft, and found in his left coat pocket outside a bad florin and a shilling—I handed them to Fox—I went with the other officers to 74, Tilson Road, and found a bunch of keys in the back room downstairs; Worms claimed them—her latch-key was on the bunch, and I got into her house with it on the 19th, and found this small piece of a mould in the pantry, in a kind of hamper, with some rags on it.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. NO coining implements were found at Mrs. Worms'.
CHARLES ROBINSON (Detective P). I assisted in searching Collins; she was carrying this bag—she was very violent; she screamed, and before I could seize her hand she threw something towards the road, which sounded like money—we took her into a china-shop—I held one hand and Fox the other—she was taken in a cab to the station—I saw Fox search the bag and find a bad sixpence and some good money—I assisted in searching the house; the grate was quite cold, there had not been a fire there for some time—I found in it six pieces of a mould; three with impressions of part of a coin; and in a table drawer a purse containing three half-crowns, four shillings, and four sixpences, all good—all those coins but one corresponded in dates with the impressions on the moulds—there was no mould for sixpences—I found some wet plaster of Paris in the dustbin in—the yard.
GEORGE BEN (405). After Croft and Collins were arrested I picked up the sixpence on the spot where Collins was struggling with the Inspector, I gave it to Fox—a boy named Hathway handed me a sixpence; I gave it to Fox.
Cross-examined by Collins. I did not see you throw them away, but I saw you toss your hand up—Fox held one hand, but nobody held the other.
HORATIO KEMP . I am a commissioner, of 179, Queen's Road, Peckham; I had the letting of 74, Tilson Road—a person named Howard called about it, and I let it in February to Henry Gibbs—I got a reference, and wrote to Mrs. Worms, Manor Place, Walworth, and in reply received this post-card: "During the time Mr. Gibbs lived with me I always found him very satisfactory.—S. WORMS, February 9th, 1891 "—I accepted that, and handed the keys of the house on 13th February to Mrs. Collins, who said she was Mrs. Gibbs.
MARY DRAPER . I was living at 74, Tilson Road, Peckham—Croft is my father; his name is Draper—we went into this house five weeks prior to March 13—my father lived in the name of Henry Gibbs—Collins lived with him, but she is not my mother—prior to that my father and I and Collins lived at 3, Martha Place, Kent Road; she had two children there, they were taken to Tilson Road—there was a room at Martha Place which I was not allowed to go into, it was kept locked—Worms was there sometimes, and she used sometimes to go into the room which was kept locked to see my father when he was working there—I have not seen her come out of that room, but they only occupied two rooms, and I was in the other, and she was not there—the room where the things were was their bedroom and workroom—there were two rooms upstairs and two down; she went upstairs, and I followed her up—the downstair rooms were a kitchen and a parlour—I have seen Sarah Worms there three times, but never seen her go into the middle room—she sometimes remained half an hour when she came—she came in shortly before Inspector Fox came, and I asked her if she had seen mother and father; she said, "They are in the hospital, let us go upstairs "—we went up, and I took a key which was in the parlour door, and tried to open the workroom, but could not; I tried again, and Mrs. Worms tried, and then I tried again, and it opened—when we got inside she told me to get a pail, and empty the water out of the jars which were up in a corner—while I was doing that she emptied the jars into a pail, and put her finger to scrape the sand out—I helped her to pack up some of the things, and put them in the little bag which I brought up from downstairs—I packed up some long pieces of iron, and some of these earthenware things, and put them in a basket for her to take away—there were screws on the battery cells, she helped me take them off, and we put them in the bag and the basket—I asked her again if she knew where father was, she said, "I don't know, that is all"—she said the two children would have to go to school, and I should have to go into a home, and that I should not see father any more—I went to the front room, and turned the boxes out, and heard the front door slam, and Mrs. Worms told Alice to go and see who it was, and shut the front door—Alice was helping us—I heard Mrs. Worms speak to the men who came upstairs, but could not hear what she said.
Cross-examined by Collins. I waited on my father when he was ill in his room, I only sat with him one night—I took his food upstairs—he was not always in bed, he was sitting up by the fire—I had my supper in the room with you and my father; I never thought of that when I said I never was in the room—I did not make your bed—I did not take money out of a dress or out of a children's box—your clothes and my father's ire in pawn; I have not had his watch—I cannot deny that you have been a good mother to me—you have a little girl ill in the infirmary—it is a lie to say that she is ill because I did not properly look after her—I never saw you at work, but I could hear the scraping when you were upstairs—Mrs. Worms came there to have a cup of tea and went upstairs; I sat at the foot of the stairs, and I know you were at work till she went into your room, because I could hear the scraping.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH When the police called I was rather frightened, and they had to ask me a good many questions before I could tell them anything—I used to call Mrs. Worms "Auntie "—she
was always very kind to me and to Mrs. Gibbs's children—I do not know for certain that she was is the middle room; I did not see her go in or come out—she only called three times, and sometimes did not stay more than ten minutes, but sometimes twenty—I was not very much against my father keeping Mrs. Gibbs's children there—on the three occasions she came she used to jaw about the children—she said she would tell me what things to pawn, and said she was coming again—I do not know where she lived—she did not know what key fitted the workroom door—she said she came to clean up the place.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I find here 25 pieces of counterfeit coin, 11 florins, 11 shillings, and 3 sixpences; also some good coins of different dates, all which have evidently been used as pattern pieces, from which moulds have been made—they all bear signs of having been in plaster of Paris, and the dates of all these counterfeit coins correspond with those on the pattern pieces—the edges of the counterfeit coins are not properly done—here are a few fragments of moulds—this one found on Mrs. Worms has a get to it, which is afterwards broken off—I can swear that this is part of a mould, but I cannot connect it with these coins—this is a very small portion of a florin, and here is part of the graining of the coin—all these articles are used in the manufacture of counterfeit coin—these three bad sixpences correspond in date with the good sixpences found—here are some pattern half-crowns, but nothing made from them—the wrapping-up is done to prevent them rubbing, and they are taken out one by one as wanted.
Collins' Defence: The old lady has never been into the workroom; she has been very good to my children. I met her a few months ago, and she asked if she could have one of my children; I said, "Yes," and she took the eldest, and afterwards brought her back and took the youngest. I had nothing to do in the workroom; I had to work hard all day, I should not know how to do it. I lived with him; that is all.
COLLINS— GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. WORMS— NOT GUILTY. Sentence on CROFT**— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WILMOT offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
JURY, being unable to agree, were discharged from giving a verdict.
Before Mr. Recorder.
377. WALTER BEADON (20) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Walter Sherard. and stealing two coats and other articles, his property; also to a previous conviction of felony at this Court in June, 1890.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
(378) RICHARD ANSELL HARRIS (31) to three indictments for feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of £5, £5, and £1 10s. 6d.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MESSRS. CHAS. MATHEWS and C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH COLLINS . I live at 26, Brunswick Street—I have been living with, the prisoner for some years—I have been getting my living as an unfortunate walking the Strand and Fleet Street—on the morning of 17th February, about one in the morning, I was in Fleet Street near Fetter Lane, speaking to Lovell, a commissionaire employed at the Telegraph Office, whom I had seen from time to time, when the prisoner came from the other side of the road and made a blow at me and pushed me back, and my hat fell off; he struck me, and said, "I will do for you, you b—cat "—he and Lovell had a row together, I don't know what' the words were; I walked away—a constable came up and pushed me—the prisoner came over and joined me, and we went home together; we had two cups of coffee on our way home; we got home about two, and I went to bed—he began jawing—I said, "For God's sake don't go on jawing, come to bed;" I went to sleep—I don't know whether he went to bed or not, the last I saw of him he was in his shirt; we always burn a lamp at night—I felt something rather sharp, I put up my hand and felt blood, and said, "What have you done? "—he was standing by the side of the bed in his shirt, with a razor in his hand; I tried to take it from him, and in doing so I cut both my hands—I said, "For God's sake, Tom, what have you done? "I was bleeding, and I saw the blood on the bed—he said, "Oh, I must. have been mad"—I put the sheet round my throat, and told him to go and call Mrs. Passingham, who lives in the next room, and said, "Take me to the hospital"—I heard him go and knock at her door—when I woke up I found my throat was cut—I heard him say to Mrs. Passingham, "Come in, for God's sake, my wife has cut her throat;" she came in, and he repeated that I had cut my throat—I said, "No, Tom, you have done it"—Mrs. Passingham went out of the room, and I put on my petticoat and boots, and went to the hospital in Waterloo Road; the prisoner took me there—on the way he said, "For God's sake say I did not do it"—he was crying; he was the worse for drink; he is as good a man as ever broke bread, only that he drinks rum—he had been drinking on this night; when sober he has been a good man to me; but when he drinks rum he is mad—he used to work at a ginger-beer place last summer; he is always in the hospital—I was an inpatient in the hospital for three weeks.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. On Monday night, the 16th, when I went out about eight, I said to you, "Meet me at the corner of Essex Street at half-past eleven"—I was not there, you saw me in Fleet Street: I was not drunk—I stood talking to Lovell as you came up to me—I have attempted my life, through you—you did come to bed on this night, and lay in bed smoking a pipe—you kissed me before going to sleep—you did not wake up and find me all over blood, and say, "My God, girl, what have you done?" and take the razor from me, nothing of the kind—you did not tie your silk handkerchief round my throat—you did not ask Mrs. Passingham to get a cab, nor did I then say, "No, Tom, you get it "—you took some clothes from behind the door and covered over my
head, and took me to the hospital—I have several times been convicted of felony.
Re-examined. I did attempt suicide about seven years ago, soon after I was with the prisoner; I attempted to drown myself, but a gentleman prevented me—the prisoner knew I walked the streets, and the money used to keep us both—I worked with him at Rawlings' ginger-beer place last year for a time; I was discharged in June, I think he worked till August—I then went back to my old calling till February 17th last—I got money from men, with which I paid the rent and kept us both.
CHARLES THOMAS LOVELL . I live at 68, James Street, Lower Marsh—I am employed at the Telegraph Office in Fleet Street—I have known Elizabeth Collins for some months past as a girl walking the streets, and have given her money—about one in the morning of 17th February I was standing with her facing Fetter Lane, when the prisoner ran across the road and struck her in the face, and knocked her backwards on to the pavement; her hat fell off, and as she went to take it up he went to strike her again; I got between them, and separated them, and I hit him in the chest and knocked him into the road, and he said, "You b—man, I will do for you"—the policeman came up, and shoved the girl away, and she and the prisoner walked off together—that was all I saw.
Cross-examined. I did not knock you down and kick you—the girl was not drunk; she had had something to drink—I have been once to your house, and treated you and gave you fourpence—you said she was your wife; I said she was not—I have known her as an unfortunate girl for the last six months.
MARY PASSINGHAM . I am the wife of Thomas Passingham, of 26, Brunswick Street—about six in the morning of 17th February I heard the prisoner knocking at my door—he said, "Mrs. Passingham, my wife has cut her throat; my good lady, do come "—I got up and went into their bedroom, and saw Mrs. Powell sitting on the bed and holding something before her throat—there was a great deal of blood; her face was marked with it, as if her hands had been dabbled in it; she was a most ghastly sight—the prisoner said, "My wife has cut her throat dreadfully"—she said, "No, Tom, you did it"—I don't think he said anything to that—I said, "Don't allow her to talk; tie up her throat, and get her boots on"—he asked me to go out and see for a policeman—I went, but could not see one, but some people came back with me—the prisoner and his wife were then gone—the prisoner said, "Get a policeman or a cab "—I saw neither.
Cross-examined. I heard you quarrelling two hours before you knocked at my door—when you said, "Get a cab," I did not hear her say, "No, Tom; you get it."
ROBERT TYLER (Sergeant L 14). About ten minutes to seven in the morning of 17th February I went to 26, Brunswick Street, and in the front room, ground floor, I found this razor on the table—there were blood stains on it; there was a bed in the room, and the place was saturated in blood—the woman had been taken to the hospital—from inquiries I made later on I went to 18, Victoria Court, about eight the same morning; I did not find the prisoner there.
ALFRED WOOD (L 130). About seven in the evening of 17th February I received information which led me to the York Hotel, and in the public bar there I saw the prisoner—I said, "I want to speak to you"—he
said, "Say what you have got to say"—I asked him if his name was Thomas Powell—he said no, his name was Summers, and he came from Somers Town—I then asked him to undo his coat—he did so, and I saw blood on his shirt—I told him I should take him into custody for attempting to murder his wife at 26, Brunswick Street that morning by cutting her throat—he said, "You have made a devil of a mistake this time, you must be codding (joking) "—he said nothing more—I took him to the station; he was there charged—he said, "I am quite innocent of the crime I am charged with; the blood that I have got on me I got in taking my wife to the hospital; I was between asleep and awake when she did it; I tried to take the razor from her, that is how she cut her hands; she is a bad, wicked woman; she was drunk at the time "—he was drunk.
ENOCH MOSS, M. D . I was at the Royal Hospital, Waterloo Road, on the morning of 17th February, about twenty minutes past six—the prosecutrix was brought there—I saw her in company with the prisoner—she had a wound on her throat, and on examination I found more than one incision on it; one running obliquely upwards from the left side of the neck, about four and a half or five inches long, commencing at the lower part of the neck on the left side, and terminating just on the lower side of the chin on the right side; the second wound running transversely from the left side of the throat, and terminating on the right side of the middle line; that was across the other wound; this second wound notched a muscle running up the neck, and was in close proximity to the deep blood-vessels of the neck—both wounds were equally serious—they were such as might have been inflicted with a razor; they were two separate cuts—she had two cuts on the right thumb, a cut at the base of the first finger, and one in the palm of the hand, a cut on the left thumb, and a slight scratch on the left arm; there was also a cut on the chin; that was a curved cut, downwards, about an inch and half to two inches long, and about a quarter of inch deep—that was quite distinct from the two wounds already described; that might also have been inflicted with a razor, as were the others—after I had finished attending to the wounds the prisoner asked if he should see her; I told him to come at five in the afternoon, and then he could inquire how she was getting on—I did not hear of him again till I heard he was arrested—the woman remained under my care until the 12th or 13th of March; she got gradually better, and in the end quite recovered; her life was at no time in danger—in my opinion the wounds were not self-inflicted; the wounds on the fingers were most likely caused in clutching the razor to take it away from another person.
Cross-examined. I believe when I saw you at the hospital you said your wife had cut her throat with a razor—you held her very nicely at the time—I found a handkerchief round her neck—after I had dressed her wounds you asked how she was; I said favourably—I asked you why you did it, and had you been drinking—you said you did not do it, either had you been drinking—I don't recollect your saying, "Do you think for one minute had I done such a thing would I take the care of her that I had?"—you may have said it without my taking any notice of it.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent. Lovell's
statement is false; Collins is swearing false against me; between the two they are trying to get me into trouble. They are making it up between them, as the man wants to live with her. I am given to believe he is a married man."
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that the prosecutrix had inflicted the wounds upon herself, as he had alleged from the first.
GUILTY on Second Count. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
STEPHEN NIBBS . I am a labourer, and live at 3, North Row, Walworth—on Friday night, 6th March, I was outside a coffee-house in East Street, in company with Bull and Griffin—I saw the prisoner come across the road and snatch Bull's pipe out of his mouth and run away; Bull ran after him—they were friends—Bull shoved him and regained his pipe—Brown jumped up and knocked it out of his mouth again, and it broke in pieces; Brown then ran down the court where he lived; Bull ran after him, but could not catch him—afterwards he went across to the coffee-shop, and Brown came up and used filthy language, and ran down the court and dared Bull to come after him, and said if he moved another inch he would dash his brains out, and he picked up a long piece of iron and threw it at him; they were about nine yards apart; it struck Bull on the head, and he fell down insensible—I picked him up; he was bleeding from just over the temple; Brown ran down the yard.
Cross-examined. The prisoner is between 16 and 17; Bull was about 20, and a much bigger man than the prisoner; there was no quarrelling or chaffing; I think Bull was angry when his pipe was broken.
WILLIAM GRIFFIN . I am a coal porter, and live at 17, King's Arms Place, Walworth—I was with Nibbs and Bull outside the coffee-house—Brown came across the road and drawed the pipe out of Bull's mouth and ran away with it; Bull ran after him, caught him, and shoved him down, and he was angry—Brown got up and walked up the street; then when, I and Bull and Nibbs were talking outside the milk-shop, Brown came up again and knocked the pipe out of Bull's mouth and ran away into his garden; Bull ran after him, but did not catch him—they were both angry—Bull walked back to the coffee-shop, and Brown came up again and used beastly language to him and ran down the court; Bull ran after him; Brown said, "If you move another inch I will dash your brains out"—I said, "Don't aim anything, or you may hit me"—he said, "I won't hit you, Bill; get out of the way"—he had no sooner said the words than he aimed this piece of iron and knocked Bull down senseless, and then ran away into his own house—Bull was taken to Brown's house, and then to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I did not hear any chaff between them about a donkey cart—Bull was very angry when the pipe was taken out of his mouth—he shoved Brown down when he caught him, not too gently—he was frightened at Bull.
Cross-examined. He refused to charge the prisoner—I said "I suppose you were larking"—he said, "Yes."
JAMES HANSFORD (P R 10). I received this piece of iron from the prisoner's father—Bull refused to charge or summons Brown—he said "We were chaffing young Tommy Brown about his donkey, and he knocked the pipe out of my mouth and ran down the court, and I landed him, when he chucked the piece of iron at me"—Bull was stouter an older than the prisoner.
ARTHUR STANLEY WOOLMAN . I was house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital on 6th March, when the deceased was brought there about 9 p.m—he had a scalp wound about three-quarters of an inch above the right eye brow, about three-quarters of an inch long, going to the bone; it was not bleeding—I kept him under observation for about three-quarters of an hour, and then sent him home—I next saw him on Sunday, the 15th eight days after; he was then suffering from tetanus—I took him in a an in-patient, and had him under my charge till he died next morning—have since assisted in making a post-mortem—traumatic tetanus was the cause of death, caused by the wound.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Discharged on recognisances.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. NOBLE Prosecuted; MR. WILLS appeared for Norman, MR. LAWLESS for Payne, and MR. GEOGHEGAN for Wright.
FRANK HARRIS PENNY . I am in the employment of the London Chatham, and Dover Railway Company—on 8th February a case marked C. A. D. 584, was received at Blackfriars Station, and put on the Maidstone bank about two p.m.—it came from Queenborough.
WILLIAM GOLD . I am in the service of the railway company at Blackfriars—on 24th February Terry came to me and presented a-deliver? order, upon which I authorised him to receive case C. A. D. 684—he is a carman in the company's employ.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLS I should take the delivery order and compare it with the mark in the book-there was one package which I had not received—the carman does not leave the delivery order with me; he has a delivery sheet given to him by his employer; he does not show it in my office-we have nothing to do with it—he gets the goods from the checker on the bank, and takes the delivery order to him, and when he gets the package he comes and signs for them, and leaves the delivery order in the office—Norman is a porter on the bank and assistant checker—February 24th was a very busy day, and Norman was called in to help.
Re-examined. I obtain the receipts for the goods when the carmen take them away.
FREDERICK CHARLES HOLLINGWORTH . I am a checker at the Black-friars Station—I did not see this case, but I searched for it—next morning, Wednesday, I received this order from Terry, for cases C. A. D. 584 and 585—I missed 584; I only delivered one—C. A D. means that that there is something valuable in the case, such as silk—that was the only one so marked—on Tuesday afternoon, February 14th, Norman was acting as checker—if I or Adams are laid up he goes in our places—he has performed the duties of a checker ever since I have been on the "bank," three months.
Cross-examined. Norman was an off-porter called in occasionally to help as assistant checker—this was a busy day, on account of Adams being away sick—I won't be sure when he came in, but he was checking in the afternoon; goods were scattered all over the bank, and Norman told me he picked some up on the line which got knocked off.
CHARLES ARTHUR WILLIAM JINGLE . I am a van boy in Messrs. Atkinson's employ—on 25th February I acted as Terry's van guard—on that afternoon, about 8.30, we received some cases into the van at Blackfriars Goods Station; we delivered some, and a small one was left—we went to Bethnal Green Road, and stopped outside a public-house—Terry went in with another man who was standing outside; they came out and stood by the van; the man went to the Bethnal Green Museum, and Terry said, "Put down the tail-board"—I did so, and shook the nosebag up—Terry put the case on the tail-board and said, "Sweep out the van"—I was taking the rollers out with my head under the van, and Terry took the case away on his back.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. The man had a low velvet cap on and a pigskin.
By the JURY. I could not show the detective the house.
STEPHEN LEACH (Police Sergeant H) On 26th February, about 5.15, I went with Firth to Payne's house, 1, Bacon Street, Bethnal Green—he keeps a chandler's shop and a beer-house—I searched a room on the first floor used as a bedroom and sitting room—Payne shifted a parcel off the table and placed it at the foot of the bed on the floor—he then took a broken arm-chair and placed it across over the parcel—searching round the room a little further he again shifted the chair from the parcel—I asked him what the parcel contained, opened it, and found it was satin—I said, "What do you know about this?"—he said, "I know nothing about that, I am done"; and was about leaving the room, but I stopped him and said, "You will be charged with being concerned with others in stealing or unlawfully obtaining this roll of black satin from some person or persons unknown"—he said, "You can tell me that at the station"—he was charged at the station, and said nothing—on Saturday, 28th February, I saw Norman at the Blackfriars Station, and said, "We are police officers, and you are strongly suspected of being concerned with others in stealing a case containing silk on February 24th"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—the superintendent said, "I have got the silk here, and I don't care what you say, I shall charge you with stealing it"—he said, "About a month ago a man named Terry asked me if I could get him some, as he knew where to get rid of it. I assisted Terry on the 24th; he called out the numbers that he wanted, and then said, 'Put me that one up.' I assisted him in putting a case on the van, but I did
not know it contained silk. I have not received any money from Terry since, but I expected some"—I had him detained—I then went to 1, Water Lane, Great Tower Street, and saw Terry about three p.m.; I said, "We are police officers, and shall take you in custody for being concerned with others in stealing a case containing silk from Blackfriars Railway Station on 24th February"—he said, "You have made a mistake"—I said, "No, I have not," and took him to Leman Street Station, and afterwards to Southwark Police Station, and Norman and he were charged; neither of them made any reply.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLS. The superintendent mentioned Terry, and then Norman said, "About a month ago Terry said to me," etc.; Norman was not present at the Police-court on the first occasion.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. The licence for beer is in Payne's wife's name—I asked first, "Have you any smuggled tobacco? "I did not want him to know what I came about.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have made inquiries about Mrs. Wright; I have not seen her marriage certificate; I can see that this (produced) is a certificate; I have made inquiries about her husband with a view to arresting him; I have not found him—Jingle gave me a description of the man who spoke to Terry; it tallies with Wright's description as regards a tall man.
WILLIAM THICK (Detective Sergeant H) On February 26th, about 5.15, I went to 4, Mount Street, Bethnal Green, about one hundred yards from Bacon Street, and saw Mrs. Wright; I said, "Has a man brought any tobacco here? "—she said, "No"—I said, "I am going to have a look round"—it is a general shop, tobacco, and such things as that—I went into the bedroom and directed Lyson to turn the bedclothes back, and between the bed and the mattrass I saw him find five rolls of silk, and under the bed these two rolls of satin (produced)—I said to Mrs. Wright, "What about this silk?"—she said, "I did not know it was here "—I said, "Where is your husband? "—she said, "He is out; he brought it here last night with two other men"—I said, "Who are the men? "—she said, "I don't know"—I said, "You say your husband brought it here"—she said, "No, I did not say my husband brought it here, it is here, and that is all I know "—she was taken to the station and charged; she made no reply—on the next day they were taken to Worship Street and remanded—on 28th February I saw Terry at Leman Street Station, and told him he would be charged with Norman in stealing a quantity of silk value £250 from Blackfriars Railway Station; he said, "I know nothing about it"—I said, "Well, that is the charge for which you are detained "—he said, "I may as well tell the truth. About a month ago I saw a man at Bethnal Green named Bryce; he asked me if I could get him some stuff; I said I would try; on the day this case was stolen I asked the porter, Norman, to let me have it; he did let me have it, and helped to put it on the van; I drove away. After I had got some distance I broke the case open, took the silk out and put it into two sacks. I gave the case away to a stranger who was passing by. I then drove on to Wright's, at Bethnal Green; he was not at home; I saw Mrs. Wright, and handed her the two sacks; I have had no money for it"—he was charged, and made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I am not prepared to say whether Wright has been convicted, but he has been in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Terry made his statement after Mrs. Wright was in custody—they were not charged together—I did not write out Terry's statement; Wright has had no opportunity of contradicting or correcting it.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLS. The consignor, C. A. D., is C. A. Delius and Co.
TERRY, NORMAN, and PAYNE— GUILTY .
Payne then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Worship Street on 10th February, 1886.—Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. NORMAN and PAYNE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each. TERRY— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
WRIGHT— NOT GUILTY .
MR. FOSTER Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ENOCH CHANDLER . I live at 15, Bath Terrace, Newington—on March 17th I locked up my house at eleven p.m.; everything was safe—I was aroused by the police, went down and found the bath-room window open, and missed a clock, two coats, two jackets, one bodice, a hat, a cap, a pair of boots, and an apron—I have seen the coat and boots at the pawnbroker's.
JABEZ MUNDAY (M 205). I saw Allen come out at the window, and took him in custody—he said, "You have caught me; you hold the bundle, I will get out and go quietly"—when he got out he said, "There is another one inside"—I kicked the door and aroused Mr. Chandler, but found no one inside—I found a pair of boots outside the house, inside the railings—I took them to the station—on the 27th I went to a common lodging-house at 131, Great Suffolk Street, and saw Cox—I said, "I shall take you in custody on suspicion of being concerned with another man in breaking and entering 18, Bath Terrace, on the morning of the 18th"—he made no reply—I took him to the station and told him to put the boots on; they fitted him—he said, "I know nothing of the, boots, but as they fit me you will say I was there"—after the charge was taken he said, "I know nothing about it, I went into my bed at two o'clock, at 170, Suffolk Street. "
JOHN ADAMS . I live at 17, "Uxbridge Street—on March 18th, about 2.57 a.m., I was going home through Bath Street—three young men passed me, and I saw Cox under a lamp in a stooping position; when I passed he stood up—he was about thirty steps from the prosecutor's house.
Cross-examined by Cox. You wore a black coat—I recognise you by your height and your whiskers.
THOMAS CLARK . I am deputy at a lodging-house, 130, Great Suffolk Street, and night porter—the prisoner Cox has been lodging there—I went on duty at 11 p.m. on 17th March, and remained till between ten and eleven next day; Cox did not come in.
OWEN POWELL . I am assistant to Mr. Layman, a pawnbroker, of 203, High Street—I produce an overcoat and a pair of boots pledged on 18th March in the name of John Cox, I do not know whom by—the prosecutor identified them.
JOSEPH BALL . I keep a lodging-house, 131, Great Suffolk Street—Cox has lived there some time—I saw him on March 17, between seven and eight p.m.; he paid for a bed—I went the rounds between 2 and 2.30, and his bed was not occupied.
Cross-examined by Cox. I did not give you a ticket that night; my wife did, and you gave it up before you went out.
Cox's Defence. I have people to prove I had on an overcoat and light trousers.,
COX NOT GUILTY . ALLEN then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Westminster on December 23, 1890— Four Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 4TH, 1891.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Vol. cxiii. Page. Sentence.