CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION, HELD MAY 4TH, 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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OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
SESSIONS VII. TO XII.
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CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
Held on Monday, May 4th, 1891, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JOSEPH SAVORY, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARCHIBALD LEVIN SMITH , one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Alderman of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; DAVID EVANS , Esq., JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., FRANK GREEN , 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. SEVENTH 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, May 4th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
384. JAMES DAVIS (19) and CHARLES WILKINSON (20) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully being found by night in the possession of burglarious instruments, with intent to commit felony; also to having been previously convicted of felony.
MR. TORR Prosecuted.
GEORGE WAKEFIELD . I live at 24, Pelham Road, Tottenham—on 30th March I left my house at eleven a.m., leaving all secure—I came back at twelve at night; I put the latch-key in the door, but could not open it, I found it was bolted on the inside; I ran and called the police, we entered by the side door, which was open; it was quite secure when I left—I got in by the scullery door—I found that the kitchen window had been forced open, and the latch of the door was prized with a jemmy, the two kitchen doors and the bedroom door broken open, and everything in confusion—some boxes on the top of the drawers were turned out and put under the bed—I missed five brooches, four earrings, two jet bracelets and a razor—some of the property is here, the jet bracelet and the razor—the value of the things lost is about £4.
JOHN EMANUEL . I live at 154, Oxford Street, Stepney—I am a traveller—early in the morning of 31st of March I was walking along Oxford Street, and heard a noise like the breaking of wood—I saw the two prisoners standing outside the door of the Rising Sun, where Mr. Poolman lives—I saw Wilkinson draw something from the door, and put it under his coat, and then walk away—Davis went with him—I spoke to the police, and he and I ran after the prisoners, and they were taken into custody—when we came to John's Place I saw Wilkinson drop this jemmy; they were sober, to all appearance at first, but afterwards they
rolled from side to side, pretending to be drunk—Wilkinson also dropped a cameo brooch.
RICHARD HART (H 115). I met the last witness and 479 on this morning; they made a communication to me, and we all three ran after the prisoners; they were running—I got up to them in John's Place—I saw Wilkinson throw this jemmy under a barrow—when I took him into custody he struggled very violently—in going to the station he dropped this cameo brooch; I searched him, and found on him ten shillings in silver, twopence in bronze, this bracelet, and a knife.
Cross-examined by Wilkinson. I saw you pull the brooch out of your pocket, and as it fell it touched my foot.
FREDERICK DELLAR (H 108). I saw the prisoners running, and joined in the chase; they were then in John's Place, just close to where they were taken I picked up two brooches, two lockets, and a jet earring—I believe Wilkinson threw them away, Davis was running with him, side by side—I took Davis into custody; I searched him at the station; I found on him this razor, a knife, and nine shillings in silver—Mr. Wakefield has identified the razor.
The prisoners, in their defence, stated that the articles in question were given to them by a man named Jackson, whom they met.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
JANE SOPHIA BAILEY . I am a servant—on 5th March I was at the Duke of Edinburgh, at 10, Salisbury Square, City—this watch is my property, my initials are on it, J. S. B.—this chain is not mine, it was lent me by a friend, it was attached to my watch; I left it with the watch in a drawer in my room—I missed it about ten in the morning of 5th March—we have a good many people staying at the hotel—I know nothing of the prisoner—as soon as I missed my watch I communicated with someone in authority at the hotel, and the police were called in—I next saw my watch on the 7th March at the pawnbroker's; the police took me there, and I took possession of it.
GEORGE TARLING . I am manager to Messrs. Hill, pawnbrokers, 315. Gray's Inn Road—on Saturday, 18th April, about half-past two in the afternoon, the prisoner came to the shop and presented this half ticket; it has on it the name of Alfred Burnett—it is a ticket for a watch and chain, pawned with us for 12s. on 5th March—I do not recognise anyone as having pawned it—on 7th March the police brought the prosecutrix, who identified the watch, and it was given up to her—the prisoner merely handed me the ticket and said, "I want to redeem it"—I had previously received a list from the police; I at once examined the list, and identified this particular watch—I said to the prisoner, "What kind of a watch is it?"—he said, "A small ladies' watch, with a hole in the centre, and with the initials J. J. B.—the initials on the back are J. S. B.—I detained him for about twenty minutes and communicated with the police; I told the police what had passed, and he was taken to Hunter Street Police-station—before the police came the prisoner said that the ticket was sent him on the previous day by his wife's brother, who had pawned it.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court, "Immediately I asked for information he gave it to me"—I also said, "The initials were very nearly right; I took no note of the conversation"—he said, "The man from whom I got it said to me 'they are my wife's initials. '"
CHARLES THOMAS (G 186). About 2.20 on Saturday, 18th April, I was called to Mr. Hill's shop; Mr. Tarling had a conversation with me as to what had passed between him and the prisoner, and I told the prisoner I must take him to the station—as soon as I got him outside the shop he made a rush to get away from me, another constable came up, and we took him to the station—we communicated with the City police.
CHARLES BRYAN (City Detective Sergeant). On 5th March I received information of the robbery at the Duke of Edinburgh Hotel; I took the particulars, and sent a list of articles to different pawnbrokers, among others to Mr. Hill—on 7th March I took Miss Bailey to Hill's, and she there identified the watch and chain; I allowed her to take it away; 12s., the amount it was pledged for, was paid—on 18th April, in consequence of a request from Hunter Street Station, I went there and saw the prisoner and the half ticket—I said, to him, "Where did you get the ticket that you tendered to the pawnbroker in Gray's Inn Road?"—he said, "I bought it from a man called George, outside the Angel public-house in Marylebone, kept by Mr. Cates"—I said, "Where does George live?"—he said, "I don't know, but he is a friend of mine"—I said, "You must come to the City with me"—on the road I asked him his name; he said, "George McCormick"—I said, "You will be charged with stealing, about six weeks ago from the Duke of Edinburgh Hotel, Salisbury Square, a watch and chain and some clothing, value about £10, belonging to two servants employed there"—he said, "Where is the Salisbury?"—that was all he said as to this charge—I had a conversation with him as to other matters—a hat was found in Salisbury Square, with a name in it, it is not here; it was forgotten, it is sent for—Miss Bailey saw the prisoner, but could not identify him—I found on him £4 in gold and some silver and copper, and he was carrying this umbrella.
Cross-examined. The hat was not found at the Duke of Edinburgh, it has nothing to do with this case—the hall porter at the Duke of Edinburgh came to Bridewell Station, but could not identify the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
After the case had commenced the prisoner stated that he was GUILTY , upon, which the JURY found that verdict. He also PLEADED GUILTY to another indictment for stealing a catseye brooch and other articles, of Thomas Bartins, in a dwelling-house called the Salisbury Hotel; also to a previous conviction at Liverpool on 8th July, 1889, in the name of George Victor. Other convictions were also proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Inspector Atkins stated that great assistance had been rendered by Mr. Tarling, not only in this case, but in others, and the RECORDER commended him for his conduct.
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 4th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
JAMES FLEMMING . I keep the Ratcliff Arms, Fulham Road—on April 11th, about eight p.m., my barmaid called my attention to a bad florin, and to the prisoner—I said, "What do you mean by giving this bad two-shilling-piece?"—he said, "It is not bad"—I said, "I will soon show you whether it is bad or not," put it into the flap of the counter, broke it in half, and asked him to pay for the gin; after a little while he gave me a sixpence, and I gave him fourpence change, and in his hand I saw another florin, which I took from his hand—he had not tendered it—I said, "This is bad also; have you any more of these about you?"—he said, "I don't know what you mean"—I cut that in half the same way, and said, "Where do you live?"—he said nothing—he appeared stupidly drunk; he laid on the counter like this—I sent for the police, and gave him in custody—he was taken into the omnibus room, where he gave the constable an address at Brighton—I asked him where he got them; he said that was no business of mine.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. At first you denied giving the coin to the barmaid, and then you said it was not bad—you need not have shown me the second coin at all.
LILY MEARS . I am barmaid at the Ratcliff Arms—on 11th April, at a little before eight p.m., the prisoner came in; he was quite sober—he called for two of gin, drank it, and gave me a bad florin—I called Mr. Flemming, who called the prisoner's attention to it; he said he did not know anything about it, and paid with a good sixpence, and I gave him fourpence change, which he put in his pocket, and Mr. Flemming took a florin from him, and asked him where he had them from; he only laughed—he came in sober, and I saw no change in his demeanour, but he was rolling about; I was not there when the constable came.
Cross-examined. I knew the coin was bad, because it was light.
WILLIAM ADAMS (B 212). I was called to the Ratcliff Arms, and the prisoner was given into my custody for uttering a bad florin; he made no answer—he had been drinking, but he was not drunk—I asked his name and address; he said, Joseph Griffin, 16, Beaconsfield Road, Brighton—I found four pennies on him—he gave his name to the Inspector at the station, "Joseph West," and afterwards "Griffin"—he said nothing at the station or at the public-house about the coins having come into his possession in the way he described at the Police-court—he walked to the station, and did not stagger.
Cross-examined. I did not tell you at the Police-court that the Inspector said he had a good mind to lock you up for being drunk and incapable.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he got the florins from two young men to whom he sold some scarf pins at 2s. 6 d. each; that he was drunk at the time, and had no idea that the coins were bad.
GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RICHARDS and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. LE RICHE Defended.
WILLIAM THOMAS EDWARDS . I am a clerk in the Confidential Inquiry office, General Post Office—the prisoner was employed as a second-class sorter for some months—on 2nd April, about 10.30, he was brought to me—I produced ninety-three letters and twelve postcards which had been duly stamped, and were going through the post—I said, "You were seen this morning with your hat and coat on in the Inland branch; you were watched and seen to take bundles of letters and place them in your pockets; you were afterwards searched by a constable, and these letters were found on you; what have you to say?"—he said, "I was going to take them downstairs into the kitchen "—I said, "What were you going to do with them?"—he said, "I was going to look over them; I was going to open one or two of them to see the contents; I wanted to see if there was anything of value in them; I was going to steal some of them. "
Cross-examined. This kitchen is open to the sorters; it is not a place where a man would be observed—he had not been drinking heavily, in my opinion, the night previous; he was right when I saw him.
WILLIAM FREDERICK WEST TURNER . I am a first-class sorter at the General Post Office—on April 2nd I was on duty; passing along a gallery I saw the prisoner take some bundles out of a basket and walk along and take some letters out of another basket, and put them in his pockets—they had been sorted to go by the early mail to the Continent—I left a man in my place, and went downstairs and saw him move away as if to go out of the building—I told him I should arrest him for stealing; he made no reply—he was not drunk or dazed, but he was taken aback—it is a postman's duty to remove his overcoat when he comes in—there was nobody there but himself.
JOSEPH THOMAS HORNSBY (City Policeman). I was on duty at the General Post Office about 3.10, and the prisoner was given into my custody; I found six bundles of letters in his overcoat—I took him to Snow Hill Station—he did not smell of liquor, and was not the least the worse for it.
WILLIAM ANTHONY NEWLAND (Constable G.P.O.). On 18th April, about 6.30 a.m., I received two letters from Turner, and a lot more—one of them was opened; that was addressed to Miss Diplock, of Brighton—nothing was in it but an ordinary letter—the prisoner did not seem to be suffering from liquor—I charged him; he made no reply.
Evidence for the Defence.
SAMUEL WALSH OWEN , L.C.P. and M.R.C.S. I have known the prisoner for about seventeen months—I have attended him for epileptic fits five or six times—I have seen him twelve times altogether—the first time was February 6th, 1890, and the last April 17th, between six and nine, at my private house, when he said he was feeling queer in the head, and suffering from diarrhœa—I certified that he was not fit for duty, and advised him not to go—drink would have made him very much
worse—I had him in bed for three days once after an epileptic fit—he was not capable of performing his duties.
Cross-examined. I never found him labouring under any delusion—I am not prepared to say that he does not know right from wrong, or that he did not know the nature of the acts he was doing, but he was unconscious that he was doing wrong in taking these letters down to the kitchen—he knew he was moving letters—he has owned to me that he has taken drink sometimes when he felt a fit coming on—when he said, "I intended to steal some of them," I do not think he knew what he was saying.
Re-examined. I speak about a delusion as something different from not knowing what he was doing; I do not think he knew the full significance of what he was doing.
WILLIAM HAVER . I am a zinc worker, of Shepherd's Bush—I have known the prisoner three years, and lodged in the same house with him eighteen months—I do not know that he has been subject to epileptic fits, but he was sometimes as if he had been drinking when he had had no drink, and he seemed not to know what he was doing.
Cross-examined. He could not walk properly; I gave him a small soda because I thought he was drunk—he had been at the Mail Coach, but drank nothing there; he caught hold of a pot and put it down again—I saw him drinking at 9.30—he ordered it; he was a little better then than he was afterwards—he called for four ale, and paid for it.
WILLIAM WATTS . I am a porter at the Vere Street Post Office—on April 17th I was engaged as night porter there—the prisoner has been employed as sorter there for two years—about 11.45 that night he rang the porter's bell and I answered the door—he was drunk—he asked me to allow him to stop in the Post Office, which was contrary to rule, and I refused—he went away, and said he was going home.
Cross-examined. He could hardly stand upright—I doubt that he could have walked from Shepherd's Bush.
ELIZABETH RYNCH . I am a widow, and live at 7, Solomon Street—the prisoner is my nephew—during the last two years he has been subject to epileptic fits, and after drink he is unconscious—after one of the fits he does not know what he is doing, and between the fits he complains of his head—I recollect his driving about in a cab for an hour and a half—he did not come in; I don't suppose he knew where he lived.
Cross-examined. He imagines something to have taken place which has not taken place; he has came and told me that his father and mother were dying when they were not.
ALBERT HOWS WOOD . I am a clerk in the London and Brighton Railway Company, and am the prisoner's brother—during the last two years he has suffered from epileptic fits, and so have I in times past, but I have grown out of them—my maternal grandmother died in an asylum—after these fits I was totally unconscious of what I said or did for some days—after the prisoner has had alcohol he is unconscious of what he says or does—my father and mother are still alive—the prisoner had to pay thirty shillings for smashing a perambulator while he was in one of those fits—he said that he was told he did it, but he had no recollection
of it—I took him to live with me to look after him—when he has this pain in his head it is a symptom that the fits are coming on.
Cross-examined. I have seen him and conversed with him since this charge—he seems sensible—he did not know we were getting up this defence—I do not know that the effect of it will be that he will be detained in a lunatic asylum for life; that has not been brought to his knowledge.
S. W. OWEN (Re-examined). It is possible that the prisoner did not know whether he was doing right or wrong—I am not prepared to swear that he must have been unconscious of the nature of the act, but I think it most probable.
W. F. W. TURNER (Re-examined by the JURY). I was not always in that gallery, only occasionally—the prisoner would not know that I caught sight of him; I was on duty, but I was not overlooking him, I was merely walking from one place to another, not on duty like a policeman.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WARD . I am a carver and gilder, of 12, Bradstock Road, South Hackney—the prisoner is my uncle, and lived in the same house—about one in the early morning of 7th April I heard a disturbance in the room occupied by my uncle, George Hopkins, who is an invalid, and was in bed—there are three rooms on the first floor; his room was the middle one—I went up, and in that room I found the prisoner and a woman named Martha Arnold, who had no business there; they were annoying my uncle—I said, "Let him alone; give him a chance;" and I said, "If you don't go out of the room I will put you out"—the prisoner said, "I will give you a chance," and he went out of the room, went upstairs, and got this razor or knife, and came back with it; it is what is called a weaver's knife; it is very sharp; sharp enough to shave with—he struck me about the head and neck with it—he hit me twice in the head and knocked me down, and then in the neck—I don't know what he was saying—my mother came in and got him away from me; a policeman was fetched, and he was taken to the station—he was net drunk or sober; he had had a drop, the same as I had, but I knew what I was doing.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had been drinking with you that day—I can take drink as well as anybody else—I pushed Martha Arnold out of the room; she fell down—I don't think I kicked her; I am sure I did not—I was in the house to protect my mother against you—you have threatened her life—you hit your brother when he was in bed, and you went away for ten days and took half a sovereign.
house—on this night I was in my own room adjoining my brother's; the prisoner brought the woman Arnold into my brother George's bedroom; they got quarrelling with him; I heard the noise and went into the room; the prisoner and Arnold were quarrelling with my old brother—my son came up and told Arnold to leave the room; she would not go; my son endeavoured to push her against the wall—she went out then; she made a slip; she did not fall; she fell to the ground—my son said, "Give him a chance," meaning my brother—the prisoner said, "I will give you a chance," and he went upstairs and got this weapon out of the cupboard on the landing, returned with it, and began cutting my son about with it—I interfered, and wrenched it from him, and ran downstairs, and halloaed out for police; a constable was close by, and he came in—the prisoner was not drunk.
JONATHAN WILSON (J 384). At one in the morning of 7th April I was called to this house; I went up to the back bedroom, first floor, and there saw the prisoner and prosecutor—the prisoner said, "I will murder him"—I took him to the station—this knife was handed to me by Mrs. Ward.
GEORGE COLLETT (Inspector J). On the morning of 7th April, about one, the prisoner was brought to the station—on my entering the charge, he said, "I am sorry he is not dead and I was going to be hung tomorrow for it"—I cautioned him, when he continued, addressing the injured man, "You ain't got so much as I thought you had, I will settle you; you are twenty years younger than me; you struck me and challenged me to fight"—after the prosecutor was taken to the infirmary the prisoner said to Mrs. Ward, "If I get two years for it I will give him and you worse than he has got this time; I will use a b----belt for both of you, I am sorry his head is not off his shoulders; this is only a start on him; if I get two years I will finish him when I come out; I said I would murder him, I will murder your son, God blind me I will murder the lot of you"—he was very excited, and had evidently been drinking, but I should say he was not drunk; I sent for the divisional surgeon, and the prosecutor's wounds were dressed at the station.
JAMES TURTLE (M.D.) I am divisional surgeon to the J Division of Police at Hackney—about half-past one in the morning of 7th April I was called to Victoria Park Station, where I saw the prosecutor; he was suffering from wounds, one incised wound on the right side of the neck three and a half inches long, extending half an inch from the jaw, and a quarter of an inch deep; another incised wound two inches long, half an inch deep, extending across the neck below the preceding one; a superficial incised wound one inch long and two and a half inches above the right ear—on the left side of the head an incised wound of the scalp half an inch from the fore part of the left ear, and upwards and backwards three inches; the hemorrhage from this was considerable, a small artery being divided; another incised wound two and a quarter inches above the left eyebrow, extending backwards two inches; another one running into that half an inch backwards and upwards; the two middle fingers of the right hand and one on the left were cut across—I stitched the wounds and sent him to the infirmary; they were caused by such a knife as this.
GUILTY on the Second Count — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Twenty Months' Hard. Labour Each.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
394. NORRIS FOWLER WILLATT (35) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering cheques for £5 and £3 with intent to defraud. He received a good character.— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL appeared for Green and Dunn, and
MR. GEOGHEGAN for Holborough.
CALVIN ARTHUR WHYLAND . I am a commission merchant, of Chicago, and am staying at the Hotel Metropole—on 24th April I went to the British Museum, and was looking at the sculpture, and saw the prisoner Green there, who gave his name as McEvoy, an American gentleman—we engaged in conversation; he said, "I have been here before, but did not see much of London; I will take you to the nicest restaurant in London, the Holborn"—we had some refreshment there, and made an arrangement to meet there next day—next day, at eleven o'clock, I met Green at the Holborn, and he took me to Hyde Park, and showed me the Albert Memorial and Kensington Palace; we then. went to a restaurant about two o'clock, and sat down at a table, and Dunn came in and sat at the same table and said, "You are American gentlemen?"—I said, "Yes"—he and Green did not seem to know each other—Dunn's language sounded like broken Irish—he said, "Won't you have a drink with me?"—I said I did not care for anything; but he insisted, and the waiter brought something—I said to Green, "This man is under the influence of liquor"—Dunn produced a slip of paper and said he had a lot of money with him, and he had £1,700 due at the Bank of England—I suggested to Green that he had better show the gentleman to his hotel—he produced what looked like Bank of England notes; we put him into a cab to go to his hotel, but he insisted on going with us—we went to the Underground Railway Station, and told him when he got out to go to his hotel, but he would not have that, he said, "I will go as soon as I have had my dinner"—he produced this slip of
a newspaper, and said that it referred to him—we went to a restaurant, and he insisted on paying for the dinner, as he had plenty of money—I said, "No," and put my hand in my pocket and took out some notes—Green said, "You do not suppose we travel without money?" and produced a draft for £830; he also had plenty of money—Dunn said, "No, I will pay for the dinner," which he did, and Green went out for five or six minutes, and came back and said, "The music is full, you will have to go there to-morrow," and said he would take us where we could have some oysters—we went to several places and had refreshment, and to a bakery and had some coffee, and Dunn said to Green, "You know me very well; would you be afraid to trust me with £100, and go out at the door and get a cigar in company with this gentleman?" referring to me—Green looked at me and said, "No," and passed to Dunn what appeared to be £100 in Bank of England notes—Dunn and I went outside to a cigar store, and Dunn said, "He is not afraid to trust us"—I said, "No, he is an American gentleman; I met him yesterday at the British Museum"—Dunn bought a cigar, and we went back and gave Green his money and a cigar, and then Dunn said, "Would you be afraid to trust me with £100, and go out with this gentleman?" Green—I said, "I have not got £100, but I am not afraid to trust you with £100," and I took my American notes, my gold watch and chain, five £5 Bank of England notes, forty-five dollars, and a diamond masonic locket, and said, "There is £100 and more," and handed them to Dunn, who went in the name of Moran—he put them in his pocket, and he and Green went out at the door; they were hardly out of my sight when the officer Travers called me out, and I found the three prisoners in the hands of the police—I had not seen Holborough before—I went with them to the station, where they were searched, and I identified the whole of my property (The newspaper extract stated that £40,000 had been bequeathed to Michael J. Moran). I understood that Dunn was Moran.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not see Dunn on the Thursday; he did not say that he had business transactions with a firm in Chicago,
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. None of my property was found on Holborough; Green showed me a draft for £820, and some paper money, before he went out.
By the COURT. I have never trusted anybody before who I fell in with, with £100, and I will not do so again. (MR. PURCELL here stated that he could not resist a verdict of GUILTY against Green and Dunn.)
WILLIAM TRAVERS (Detective F). On 25th April, about two p.m., I saw Mr. Whyland with Green and Dunn—Holborough was following them—they went into a refreshment-room at Gloucester Road Railway Station, and Holborough remained outside—I went into the bar, and saw Dunn pull out some paper, saying that he was an Irish boy, and had come into some money—Holborough then came in and had a glass of ale—they came out and walked towards South Kensington Station, Holborough following them at a short distance; they went into the refreshment bar there—Holborough waited outside, and I saw him looking through the glass door—Green then came out and spoke to Holborough, and they walked out of the station towards Exhibition Road, and Holborough handed some paper to Green—I went back to the railway station, and about ten minutes afterwards Green and Holborough came back together;
Green went into the refreshment bar, and joined Dunn and the prosecutor, and then Holborough went in—soon after that Dunn and Green left, and Holborough followed them to the Brompton Road, where they went into the Bell and Hornspublic-house; Holborough remained outside—I went in and spoke to the barman, and Green, Dunn, and the prosecutor left together—Holborough followed them; he had been in the same compartment—the three went into a confectioner's shop, and Holborough remained outside—presently the prosecutor and Dunn came out arm-in-arm, and walked towards St. George's Hospital, and into a tobacconist's shop, and then returned to the confectioner's—Holborough then went inside, and shortly afterwards Dunn and Green came out laughing—Holborough joined them, and they all walked to a cab standing in William Street; Holborough got in the cab—I seized Dunn and Green—Holborough dodged round the cab to the off-side and ran away—I had given information to other officers, who followed him—Dunn said, "It is all right, I have got it all in my pocket"—I went back and fetched the prosecutor, and they were all taken to the station—Green pointed to Dunn and said, "He has got it all"—Holborough said, "I don't see how you can connect me with the charge; there is nothing to connect me with them"—I found on him 3 1/2 napoleons, 11 1/2 francs in silver, tenpence, two postage stamps, a pocket-book, a knife, and an umbrella; and on Green nine Bank of Engraving notes, £1 in gold, and 2s. 6d. in silver—I did not search Dunn.
Cross-examined by Mr. GEOGHEGAN. I was in plain clothes—this is the first time Holborough has been arrested, to my knowledge; I know of no convictions against him.
Re-examined. Holborough ran away directly I put my hands on the other men.
JOHN FRASER (BR 32). Travers spoke to me about half an hour before the arrest, and I was on the look-out—I saw Green and Dunn come out of the confectioner's shop, join Holborough, and walk to a cab—Holborough was a little in front of the others—I got in front of the horse's head, and Holborough saw me and ran out of William Street as fast as he could, into the High Road—I ran after him and caught him—he appeared to be running for an omnibus—he said, "What do you want me for? I have nothing to do with these men"—I said, "You will have to come back, anyhow. "
GREEN and DUNN— GUILTY .**—They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, Green at Marlborough Street on May 31,1886, and Dunn at Bow Street in December, 1888.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour Each. HOLBOROUGH— NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
JOSHUA CRIMP . I am a master mariner, and live at Kingsbridge, Devonshire—on 27th March my vessel was in St. Katherine's Docks, and on the 28th the prisoner came and asked if I had got a cask of oil to sell; I said yes, and told him the price, 3s. 6d. a gallon, and what he could make over that he might take for commission—he left, and some days afterwards returned, and said he had sold the oil at 3s. 9d. a gallon—the Dock Company gauged it; it came to twenty gallons, and I went with
him and took it to a chemist, who took a sample, and said he could not pay for it then, and asked me to let it stand for a day—the prisoner had no authority to receive payment, or to give a receipt; I paid him before we went to the chemises—the endorsement to this cheque is not my writing, nor written by my authority—he has not accounted to me for the £3 15s.—I never saw him again till he was in custody.
THOMAS WEST CARNEY . I am a wholesale druggist, of 14, Laurence Pountney Lane—this oil was brought to me on 31st March, and the next day the prisoner came and said he came from Captain Crimp, and asked for the money—I gave him this cheque. (For £3 15s., in favour of Captain Crimp)—he wrote this receipt in my presence—next day I saw Captain Crimp, and stopped the cheque.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You asked me to make it an open cheque, and I refused.
ALFRED WASTIN . I am a commission merchant, of 424, Old Kent Road—on April 1st I called at Mr. Carney's office, and saw him give the prisoner this cheque—I knew the prisoner, and went outside with him—he owed me ten shillings, and I said, "What about that little account you owe me?"—he said, "I have a small cheque crossed; I will get it cashed and pay you"—I concluded that he had a right to deal with it—he went to two or three places with me and tried to get it cashed, but came out and said he could not—I said, "I cannot waste any more time, give me the cheque and I will get it cashed"—I gave it to one of my customers, who cashed it, and I gave the prisoner £3 5s., deducting the ten shillings he owed me—he gave me this receipt—I am the loser.
Cross-examined. I did not hear you ask Mr. Carney to make the cheque open—I did not say I would give you in custody if you did not pay me—knowing whose cheque it was, I never opened it till I handed it to my customer, and did not know who it was made out to—I did not coerce you into signing it—you went into a post-office, but I did not see you write.
JOHN JONES (City Policeman). On 11th April, about one o'clock, I saw the prisoner and Wastin—I asked the prisoner if his name was Winter—he said, "Yes"—I asked him if he had sold the oil for Captain Crimp; he said, "Yes"—I said, "Did you get the money?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Did you sign this cheque?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You must go to the station"—he said, "Very well; I don't wish to give you any trouble"—when the charge was read over to him, he said, "I should not have done it if it had not been for the coercion of that man," pointing to Wastin.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that when he received the cheque he intended to take it to Captain Crimp, but that Wastin insisted upon his endorsing it, though he told him it belonged to Captain Crimp, and threatened to give him in custody if he did not pay him the 10s.; and went with him into Mark Lane Post Office, and saw him endorse the cheque; and that Wastin then cashed it, and gave him £3 5s
GUILTY — Three Months' Hard Labour.
399. JOHN PITCHER (27) and THOMAS HENRY OSBORNE (22) , Robbery with violence on Edward Bacon, and stealing a watch and other articles, his property, to which OSBORNE PLEADED GUILTY , and also to a conviction of felony in December, 1887.
EDWARD BACON . I live at 19, St. John Street Road, Clerkenwell—on 13th March, about 6.30 p.m., I was in Cromer Street; three men hustled me, and took my watch, purse, knife, and cigar-cutter, and ran away—I cannot recognise them—Mahoney spoke to me.
JOSEPH MAHONEY . I live at 4, Fetter Lane—on 13th March I was in Cromer Street, Clerkenwell, and saw the two prisoners and a man not in custody running away—the prosecutor spoke to me, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards I looked into the Mechanics' Larder public-house and saw Osborne—I gave chase after both prisoners, and blew a police whistle—Osborne fell down in Jury Street, and I took him—I gave a description of Pitcher, and on 4th April he was placed with eight or nine others at Hunter Street Police-station, and I. picked him out—I have not the shadow of a doubt he is the man I saw running away.
EDWARD NEW (Police Sergeant E). I received a description from Mahoney, and on April 14th at five p.m. I took Pitcher in Derry Street—I told him the charge—he said, "I do not know anything about it"—he was placed with eleven others at the station, and Mahoney identified him.
PITCHER GUILTY .**He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell in October, 1888.— Nine Months' Hard Labour Each.
MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted.
Upon the evidence of JAMES MORGAN, divisional surgeon, and DR. GILBERT,surgeon of the Gaol of Newgate, the JURY found the prisoner guilty of the act, but not responsible.—To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, May 5th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
SARAH CRANE . I am the wife of James Crane, a grocer, of Sparrow Hill, Loughborough—my maiden name was Harvey—I was a sister of the late Ann Gimson, who was married to the prisoner on 10th April, 1851, in my presence—she was then a widow named Dewberry—they lived for 19 years at Loughborough, and there were five children of the marriage, and then in 1870 the prisoner went to America—after that my sister worked for her living as a dressmaker and taking lodgers—the prisoner sent her something for about two years; I don't know what; she had one daughter at home, and the boys were apprenticed, one was at Loughborough, and one at Leicester, and one at school—in 1879 the prisoner came to England, and was with his wife a few weeks; I saw him—he sent money to her down to 1872, and he ceased doing so after that
day—I saw him in 1884, but not to speak to—in 1884 my sister died—the prisoner was then in Loughborough—there were no divorce proceedings between them.
Cross-examined. Before he went to America he was well-to-do; he was a manufacturing hosier, with his father; in 1868 or 1869 the firm was practically ruined, and he went to America to try and retrieve his fortune.
MARY WILSON . I live at 290, Dalston Lane, Hackney—I was born at Nottingham—about twenty-three years ago, I think, I went to America; I never naturalised there—I first met the prisoner in 1871, in New Brunswick, New Jersey—he told me he had been married, and had divorced his wife—I was married to him at Trenton, New Jersey, on 19th February, 1872, at the house of the Minister of the First Baptist Church, Trenton, where the prisoner was in the habit of attending—the Minister gave him this certificate, and he handed it to me at the time—a lady was present, and my husband asked if she should sign the certificate, and the Minister said, "I have signed it, that is sufficient," and so there is no witness's name—I lived with the prisoner till 24th January last—on 1st May, 1881, we arrived back in England—I knew nothing of his wife in Loughborough—in 1886 I took divorce proceedings against him, because he seduced my servant girl, and I found he was keeping a woman—I filed my petition—he answered it—he never denied that a valid marriage had taken place between us at Trenton—I proceeded with the divorce till the prisoner wrote me some letters, and got a friend to intercede on his behalf to get me back, because he said if I went on with the proceedings he should go back to America, and not face it—these are some of the letters I received after the proceedings had commenced; he wrote more, but he burnt them when I returned to him. (One letter addressed her as his dear wife, and said he would call the next evening, and she must be ready to come home with him as his wife, and that she ought to have more confidence and trust in one she had sworn to love)—I lived with him again till he left me on 24th January this year—I have by him two sons living and two children who have died—for a short time after he left me he provided me with half means—I first learnt on 11th April this year that his wife had not been divorced; I then went down to Loughborough and made inquiries, having heard something—I then took these proceedings—I have been present and seen other marriages take place in America in the same way as mine; I cannot say if witnesses have signed in other cases—I have had a brother married.
Cross-examined. 11th April this year was not the first time I knew the prisoner was a married man when he went through the ceremony with me; I knew he was married when I married him, but I believed he was divorced—I did not know that his wife was living, and that there had been no divorce—I knew Louis Wright Atkin in New Brunswick through my husband—he never told me that I was going to marry a man who was married and not divorced, and that I should be committing bigamy—he is here now, I know—I went to work at the Norfolk and New Brunswick Hosiery Company, where also the prisoner and Atkin were employed—the prisoner was manager—I did not live with the prisoner before I married him—he professed it was a marriage of love—I heard of the death of his wife, from whom he said he was divorced, in 1884; he told me Edwin's mother was dead; he never called her his wife—Edwin was one of his sons, I did not know
him—I never made inquiry as to whether he had been divorced or not—I am Nottingham born and bred, that is about fifteen miles from where the prisoner was married—I knew nothing of him before I went to America—he never spoke of his wife under any other name than Edwin's or Jane Ann's mother—I don't know if he was in the habit of sending money to England after our marriage, I never sent any for him to his wife; he never asked me to send any for him—when he left me on 24th January we were living at 290, Dalston Lane; a house at a rental of about £30 or £40, I think—it was furnished from top to bottom—I have since sold some of the furniture, not all; there is enough left for two or three rooms, I think—I sold it to prosecute and find out about my villainous husband's character—I ultimately gave him into custody at the Aquarium; I saw him outside, walking about the lobby—I don't know if he has a stall there—I did not break his ribs or injure him on 24th January; there was no fight between us—he came in intoxicated, and went to strike my boy, and I went between them and got the blow between my shoulders—I might have touched him, but I did not injure him—I am still living at 290, Dalston Lane.
Re-examined. Until 11th April I never knew that his wife had not been divorced.
MR. GRAIN submitted that there was not sufficient evidence of the second marriage, as, in addition to the fact that the certificate was not signed by any witness, there was no proof that the ceremony was according to the regular and recognised legal form of the country in which it took place (Q. v. Fanning, Law Reports, Crown Cases Reserved; Q. v. Allen; Burt v. Burt, Probate Division, 29 Law Journal; Stephen's Digest). MR. GILL, in reply, cited Q. v. Patrick Griffin, 14 Cox 308; K. v. Inhabitants of Brampton, 10 East 282; Q. v. Fymonsto, 1 Carrington and Curwen. The COMMON SERJEANT,after consulting the RECORDER, ruled that there was evidence to go to the JURY.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Imprisonment.
406. GOTTFRIED JULIUS SCHWEIZER (21) , to unlawfully obtaining goods from various persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
(407) EDWARD FERNEAU (20) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Edward Barolini, and stealing two coats and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in March, 1891, at Chelmsford— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and MEAD Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.
THOMAS DOWLING . I live at 26, Shaftesbury Place, Aldersgate Street—the deceased, James Joseph Dowling, was my brother—he was about thirty years of age, and was a cab-driver, and, as far as I know, was an absolute stranger to the prisoner.
WILLIAM HENRY STOKES . I live at 9, Maria Street, Kingsland Road—I keep a fish stall—on Monday evening, 13th April, about a quarter-past six, I was at my stall outside the Green Gate public-house—the prisoner came up to my stall and had some oysters; he was alone—while he was eating them the deceased came up to the stall—he asked the prisoner if he could have one of the oysters—the prisoner said, "Yes, certainly," and he took one of the oysters and ate it—the prisoner then asked him to go into the public-house and have a glass of ale; the prisoner went in, and I followed him, and the deceased followed behind me, and said, "Make it three "—I ordered my own glass; I can't say who ordered the other two; I drank my glass and went back to my stall—when I had been there eight or ten minutes I saw the deceased running out of the public-house; he came against me—I looked and saw the prisoner at the door of the public-house—he had a revolver in his hand, and I saw him fire in the direction of the deceased; the bullet passed by me and struck the stall—the deceased went towards the wall—the prisoner came into the road, and the deceased went towards him calling out "Police!"—when he got about a yard and half from him, the prisoner fired a second shot at him, and he fell back, and as he fell Everett caught the prisoner by the arms; a policeman came up at that instant and took the revolver from the prisoner—I noticed that the prisoner looked very strange about the eyes; that attracted my attention—as far as I saw there was no quarrel between the prisoner and the deceased; I saw no bother whatever.
Cross-examined. I had never seen them in company before—the deceased came into the house after me, and he was there when I came out; I left immediately after taking my ale—there was no quarrel or angry words between them that I saw.
JAMES EVERETT . I am a coachsmith, and live in Graham Street, City Road; I was in the Green Gate public-house the night this occurred, a few minutes past six—I saw the prisoner in the same compartment—I heard him call for a bovril, and he had a cigar, and then he had two glasses of mild ale; I had no conversation with him; I came out, leaving him inside—about twenty minutes afterwards I saw the prisoner at the stall eating something—about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards, as I was standing there, I saw the flash of a revolver from the doorway, and saw the deceased run out into the road crying "Police!" and run away from the prisoner, and when they were about three yards apart from one another he fired a second shot at the deceased, and hit him, and as he was falling I ran round and pinned the prisoner from behind, and held him till the policeman came and took the revolver from him—he said nothing to me.
Cross-examined. There are three doors to the public-house; the prisoner
came out of the one in Bath Street; as well as I could see he was facing the deceased when he fired the second shot; the deceased had been moving backwards—he did not make towards the prisoner.
VIOLET HUNT . I am barmaid at the Green Gate—I know the prisoner by sight by coming into the house—on Monday night, 13th April, about six I saw him there; he had a cup of bovril—I saw another man speaking to him in the bar—the prisoner called for a cigar and two glasses of ale—I noticed him in the bar about twenty minutes—I did not notice any quarrelling while he was there; I was in the bar all the time—I heard the man talking something about a cab, and I saw him showing a blue paper to the prisoner—I remember his going out and coming in again—I did not notice anybody with him, it was not at my end of the bar—I saw him go out, and then I heard the shots.
Cross-examined. He was apparently quite sober when I first saw him, when he called for the bovril; I did not serve him the second time—I heard no quarrelling; it is a large bar, but I should have heard if there had been any.
ELIZABETH TUCKFIELD . I am the wife of George Tuckfield, who is manager of the Green Gate—on 13th April, about twenty minutes past six, I saw the prisoner in the bar, at the Bath Street entrance; he was with the deceased and Stokes; the prisoner called for three halves of mild ale—I served them—Stokes drank his and went out, leaving the deceased and the prisoner in the bar—the prisoner drank his ale and called for another one; the barman served that, and seeing that the prisoner did not pay for it I drew the attention of my husband, and he went and took the ale off the counter—I did not hear anything said—I did not notice the prisoner leave the house, or the deceased, I was attending to my business—I think it was about ten minutes after I had served the three halves of ale that I heard a report of a revolver; I heard a second report, and went out and saw the prisoner in custody and the deceased being taken away.
Cross-examined. When my husband removed the ale I was not standing close to him, I was a good way from the counter—while the prisoner and deceased were there I heard no noisy words or anything in the nature of a quarrel; nothing at all attracted my attention.
GEORGE TUCKFIELD . I am manager of the Green Gate—on the evening of 13th April I saw the prisoner in the house—I did not know him before—my wife called my attention to a glass of ale which was not paid for; that drew my attention to the prisoner—I saw that he was in company with the deceased; I did not know the deceased—I went up to where they were and asked the prisoner for the money for the ale; he did not answer—he was talking to the deceased—I heard him mention the word oysters, and heard him say to the deceased, "It is your turn to pay"—I heard nothing more said—I took the glass of ale off the counter—this only took a few seconds—I should not say they were quarrelling, merely chaffing—they then went towards the door, I could not say which went first—as they went the deceased pushed the prisoner in the face; I should not say it was a blow, it was a push; I could not say whether it was with the open hand—they then went out—the deceased went out first; the prisoner followed immediately, and directly the doors closed behind them I heard the report—the doors are swing doors—I did not notice anything in the prisoner's hand when he was in the bar, or when he was going out—I did not hear them say anything more to each other.
Cross-examined. The doors open from the bar into a small lobby, and then to the street door—I heard no scuffle—I heard nothing but the report—the push the prisoner gave was not such as would cause any serious pain; they appeared to be chaffing—if there had been any quarrel I must have heard it.
GEORGE WILLIAM HEYWOOD . I am an insurance agent, of Brunswick Place, Clerkenwell—on the night in question I was in the public bar of the Green Gate; I saw the prisoner and deceased in the same bar, and heard them talking together—the prisoner said something to the deceased about being robbed, and said something about a b----potman—the deceased turned round and said he did not wish to have anything to do with it, and he went towards the door—the prisoner caught hold of his coat as if to detain him—the deceased turned round and pushed him away from him, and then went out of the house—the prisoner followed immediately, and I immediately heard a report of firearms, almost as soon as he had got outside the door—I ran out and saw the deceased in the road and the prisoner on the pavement with the revolver in his right hand—the deceased was making towards the prisoner—I did not hear him say anything—when the deceased was close to the prisoner I saw the prisoner deliberately aim at his chest and fire the second shot—the deceased had not his fists up when he was making towards the prisoner; I believe he had his hat in his right hand; he fell and died at once, shot dead—I had not noticed any revolver in the house—I noticed the prisoner's appearance in the house; he appeared to be in drink; he was rather red in the eyes, and had a muttering way of speaking.
Cross-examined. He held himself up and walked pretty steady—he did not suggest that the deceased had robbed him, or suggest anything offensive to him—there was nothing to lead me to suppose there was any ill-feeling between them—it was just by the doer that he pushed the prisoner; it was on the chest, with the open hand—I heard no scuffle outside before the shot was fired.
WILLIAM JONES (G 448). On 13th April, about half-past six, I was on point duty in Shepherdess Walk, looking in the direction of the Green Gate; I saw the deceased coming out backwards from the doorway; I saw a flash coming from the doorway, and I heard him call "Police!"—he had his hat in his left hand, I saw him take it off after the first shot—I ran in the direction of the prisoner; I was about thirty-five yards off when the first shot was fired—I saw the deceased falling and rushed across the road; he saw me coming, and he rushed at the prisoner who was standing just outside the door, and when the deceased was about a yard and a-half from him he deliberately fired again and shot him dead—I went towards the prisoner, and he deliberately pointed the revolver at me, he was seized from behind by Everett—I threw my arms up and rushed at the prisoner, and got the revolver from his right hand—this is it (produced)—it is a five-chambered revolver; two were recently discharged, the other three were loaded with ball cartridge—it was on half cock—the prisoner said, "It served him right; he has robbed me; he is a thief and a liar"—I blew my whistle and got assistance, and he was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. Before the second shot was fired the deceased rushed at the prisoner and the prisoner put up the revolver and deliberately
fired again; he appeared very excited—on the way to the station he said nothing—I did not notice any laughter or muttering.
RICHARD DAVILL (Inspector G). At ten minutes to seven on the evening of 13th April I was on duty at Old Street Station when the prisoner was brought in by Jones, who made a statement to me and handed me this revolver; it was on half-cock—I did not know at that time who the deceased was, or whether he was dead—I said to the prisoner, "You are brought here upon a very serious charge, probably murder. I shall have to caution you, that whatever you say I shall take down and give in evidence,"—he replied in a very excited manner, "Yes, like an Englishman, like an Englishman, I am an Englishman, I shot like an Englishman; it was a good job I had it with me"—I then proceeded to Bartholomew's Hospital, and there saw the body of the deceased—I went back to the station and said to the prisoner, "The poor fellow is dead"—he replied, "Serve him right, I am glad of it"—I then formally charged him with murder—before reading the charge over I again cautioned him, and he made this statement which I took down. (Read: "I went into the Green Gate public-house and had some Bouillon Meet; I went from the private bar to the public bar and had a glass of ale; I then went outside and had six pennyworth of oysters. I complained of the quality of the oysters, and he replaced them; this man, who I shot, took up two oysters and ate them. I said to the man, 'All right, don't take any notice of him, I will pay for what I have had and what he has had.' I and the stallkeeper went into the public-house, the deceased followed. I paid for three glasses of ale. The oyster man said something about the two oysters, and then the row began. He went at me right and left, and under the circumstances I let off the revolver")—I read that over to him, and he signed it—I sent for Dr. Yarrow, and we had the prisoner marched up and down the charge-room several times; he walked perfectly steady and erect, but he smelt very badly of drink.
Cross-examined. He was very excited—he did not appear to have lost controlling power, at the same time his manner was very peculiar, it struck me as being unusually so—several times while I was taking his statement he broke out into a wild laugh, and shortly after he would be perfectly calm, and then he would mutter things to himself which no one could hear, acting in a strange, incoherent way—that continued during the interval between his coming to the station and the arrival of Dr. Yarrow—I noticed that he looked very peculiar—at the time I attributed it to drink, as he smelt so strongly of it.
HERBERT ANDREW POWELL . I am house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's—I saw the deceased immediately on his being brought to the hospital, about a quarter to seven; he was dead—I saw a wound about an inch above the left nipple—I afterwards made a post mortem—the bullet had entered at that spot, and passed through the ribs, the heart, and the lungs, and was found under the skin on the other side—it would cause almost instant death.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am divisional surgeon of police—I saw the prisoner at Old Street Police-station on the Monday night about nine o'clock—I examined him with a view to ascertain whether he was under the influence of drink—I was of opinion that he was not then under the influence of drink, but he had been drinking—he conducted himself very strangely indeed; he was alternately excited and became, calm, and then
he became very frivolous; lie was laughing very much from time to time—his eyelids were half closed—I thought at the time it was due to drink; it might have been due to nervous exhaustion—I have noticed it in persons mentally afflicted—he was muttering to himself—I noticed the drooping of the eyelids on two occasions afterwards before the Magistrate, and I then came to the conclusion that it was not due to drink, but to some affection of the mind.
Cross-examined. When I saw him at the station he was not under the influence of drink; he was alternately excited and frivolous, and he would laugh immoderately without any apparent reason; I think those were symptoms of mental aberration, such as would be associated with permanent mental disease—I had a conversation with him that evening as to the circumstances of the case, and he gave me an account of it—he said that the deceased had made a violent attack upon him; his words were, "He set about me right and left"—that was said with all appearance of conviction—that would be quite consistent with a delusion on that point—the opinion I formed was that he was subject to delusions.
By the COURT. I do not think that he imagined he had done anything wrong; I think he knew that he had killed the man, but I don't think he regarded it in the light of a crime; he seemed to think it was rather a praiseworthy act.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am the medical officer of Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under observation from the time he was brought there, on the 14th April, down to the present time—I have on many occasions examined him as to his mental condition—he is sufficiently sane to take his trial—he has told me that he has been suffering from all kinds of annoyances and persecutions, that everybody was against him, that he was followed about and annoyed, that he hears voices calling him a b----foreigner, a fool, a s----, and other foul epithets, that he had been boycotted and intimidated, that if he went into an eating-house they would supply him with bad food to annoy him, because he was a foreigner—he said the deceased was put upon him to give him a hiding, and that he was a trained pugilist, that he attacked him with great ferocity, and hit him numberless times in the face as hard as he could—since he has been in prison he has told me at times that he heard voices outside the walls of the prison saying they are very glad he is locked up there—from what I have seen of him I should say that he was of unsound mind, and did not know the nature and quality of the act he committed.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time.—Ordered to be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
The COURT commended the conduct of the witness Everett, and ordered him a reward of £2.
411. SARAH GLASSCOCK and MARY ANN HYDE , Unlawfully causing to be received by Mary Jane Davies a certain letter threatening to accuse her of murdering a certain child, with intent to extort from her a certain watch-chain.—
HYDE PLEADED GUILTY — Discharged on recognisances GLASSCOCK— NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
Upon the evidence of Mr. Philip Francis Gilbert, surgeon of Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway, the JURY found the prisons to be insane—Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. KEITH FRITH Prosecuted.
JANE SAUNDERS . I am married, and am in the employment of Mr. James Eggleton, as cook at the Crown public-house, 179, Pancras Road, St. Pancras—he has a daughter named Florence, about twelve years old—the prisoner was in the employment as potman for about six months—on Sunday morning, 12th April, he came up to me in the kitchen about 9.30, and he said, "Cook, do you want any knives cleaned?"—I said, "No thank you, George, I want some coals "—he then turned round and went down stairs—at about twenty to ten I heard Florrie scream—I went downstairs and ran round the bar—I could not find her—when I got down the door between the bar and the parlour was locked, and the key was in the bar side of the door—I unlocked it; Florrie was standing up smothered in blood—it appeared to be coming from her head—she said something to me, in consequence of which I carried her upstairs—I examined her head and found it cut in several places—Mr. Eggleton searched for the prisoner—I never saw him after he left me in the kitchen.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I never knew you to have any animosity against the child—she was not lying in a pool of blood—you did not come and ask me for a knife—the child did hinder you at times, but I do hot remember her calling you a silly old fool, or my saying that Mr. Eggleton ought to chastise her for it—you always treated her with respect, as you did the others.
HERBERT TILLEY . I am an M. B. and a house surgeon at University College Hospital—I saw the child on the 12th April, at her house first, and afterwards she was brought to the hospital—she was suffering from five lacerated wounds on the scalp—one was on the top of the head, a second was to the left of that, and there were two in a T shape, and a fifth just below them on the right; in each wound a fracture could be felt—the wounds were dangerous to life—we had to trephine some of the wounds, which is a dangerous operation—there was no blood on the hammer when I first saw it—I should think one of the wounds was inflicted with the sharp claw of this hammer.
JOHN FORD (Y 110). About nine o'clock on the 20th April I was on duty in plain clothes at Islington, and saw the prisoner, whose house I had been watching since the 12th, in York Road, and followed him—he placed his right hand in the lining of his coat, and held the corner of it down with his left hand as if to get something out—I caught hold of him by both arms—he commenced to cry "Murder" and
"Police!"—I told him that I was a police officer, and would arrest him for violently assaulting Florence Eggleton at the Crown public-house, Pancras Road, where he was employed as potman, and on our way to the station he said, "If you had been half a minute later I would have blown your brains out; I saw you following me, only I could not get the revolver out of my pocket soon enough"—I took him to the station, where he was charged—he said nothing; he straggled when I first arrested him, but was quiet afterwards—I found a six-chambered revolver in the lining of his coat, loaded in four chambers, and these ball cartridges were in his left hand trousers pocket.
Cross-examined. You would have had time to shoot the revolver off if you had had it in your hand—you did not say you wished I had given you two or three minutes, so that you could have gone upstairs and blown your own brains out.
FLORENCE EGGLETON . I live with my father at the Crown public-house—the prisoner was potman—he came to the house about half-past eight or nine o'clock on Sunday morning, 12th April; I asked him to open the drawer and give me the polish to clean the taps; we were then in the bar; he could not open it, so he asked me to wait till father came down—he then went down into the cellar to fetch the pail to clean the windows; after he had cleaned the windows he cleaned the pewters, and then he went back into the saloon bar, and I was dusting the bottom shelf, and then I went over to polish the taps, and he was behind me, and all of a sudden my head felt sore and I fell back—I do not remember seeing anything in the prisoner's hand—there was no one else downstairs except him and myself, he told me to tell father he had had some rum; I saw him take it, and he was going to take some more, but I looked round and he stopped.
By the COURT. He took the rum before he went in the saloon bar; he took half-a-quartern from the tap I was polishing.
Cross-examined. I was not in the parlour when you struck me—I do not know whether you dragged me in the parlour or whether I fell into it, because I was unconscious; but when you first struck me I was standing by the taps.
JAMES EGGLETON . I am the father of Florence Eggleton—the prisoner had been my potman for about six months—my daughter is twelve years old—the hammer was sometimes kept in the coal-cellar and sometimes in the pot-house—directly after the assault I found the hammer in the bar-parlour; one end was covered in blood, and there were two or three hairs on the other end—I saw the hammer in the pot-house the night before—the prisoner had no right to draw beer or spirits without my permission—my daughter assists me in the house, and it would be her duty to tell me if she saw anybody helping themselves.
Cross-examined. I have never told you you could help yourself to liquors—I have asked you in the morning sometimes if you have had any beer, but that has been when my wife or the barman has been there to give it you—on the previous Saturday evening I told you I thought you had been drinking rather heavily—you wore quite sober when you shut up at twelve o'clock—I never heard of your having had a sunstroke until last week at Clerkenwell; I had no cause of complaint against you before that week—you always did your work well, and I said as I was going away I would give you two shillings a week more, and perhaps the next
people that came would continue it, but that I could not say—my daughter was in the parlour, because I could not be there, and I know that you got the worse for drink on two or three occasions—I had my daughter there to do a little dusting, so that she could see if you took the drink, but I did not tell her what she was there for—you never refused any drink that I offered you—I never asked you to report to me anything that you saw the barman do; if I could not trust you I would not ask you to tell me what went on in the parlour—my daughter has told me on two or three occasions of things she has seen you do.
By the COURT. The prisoner never came back to the house after this, and the police arrested him on the 20th.
DANIEL PALMER (Inspector Y). I saw Florence Eggleton on the morning of the 12th April, at her father's house; I then took her statement—on the 20th I told the prisoner the charge against him, to which he made no reply—he had a revolver in his pocket; four chambers were loaded—I took the balls out.
The Prisoner, in his defence, said: I was asked to open the drawer, and I said I would try, and I fetched the hammer for that purpose, but an iron bar was wedged in so tight that I could not open it. I put the hammer on the counter, and went on working. I felt all of a shake. I went downstairs and got a pail of water, and cleaned the windows, which I could hardly get up to do. I took half a quartern glass of rum, and told the child to tell her father, because I was so bad. The child came round whore I was, and looked into the parlour; I then took up the hammer and hit her on the head; I think it was once or twice. When I hit her she fell headlong into the parlour. When I had done it, I was all of a shake and tremble. I then put on my coat and shut the door, but I did not lock it. The girl went headlong into the parlour, and she must have fell up against the table, which must have made the other bruises. I had no animosity against the child, and I had always treated her with the greatest respect. After I had done it I walked home. I think I got the revolver down Tottenham Court Road on the Saturday, and when I got home on the Sunday I took it out of my drawer and put it in my pocket.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BLACK, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CHARLES MATHEWS Prosecuted; SIR CHARLES RUSSELL, Q.C., MR. POLAND, Q.C., and MR. HOUGHTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MURPHY Prosecuted.
THOMAS EVANS . I am an engineer, of 34, North Street, Poplar—on 26th March, about 9 p.m., the prisoner came and showed me this paper, and asked me if I would advance him £3 on it—I did so—next morning he came back to endorse it, and asked for a further advance of 10s., which I gave him—I imagined the paper to be genuine when I advanced the money. (This was an advance note on the owners of the ship "Mantua" for £5, one month's advance of wages. Parkinson, master; Bailey, Son and Wasting, 82, Leadenhall Street)—he endorsed it in my presence on the 27th—I endeavoured to obtain cash for it, and made inquiries and ascertained it was not what it had been represented to me to be—I have never had my money back—I am not in the habit of cashing notes like this, but the prisoner was in my employment as a hammerman for ten months before this—he came to me dressed in private attire, not like a sailor.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You had a good character while you worked for me for ten months.
Re-examined. I know nothing against him.
DAVID CRACKITT (Police Sergeant K). I went to 82, Leadenhall Street—John Pound and Co. were in occupation there—I found no firm of Bailey, Son, and Wasting there—I also called at Messrs. Shaw, Savill and Co., the shipping owners, and made inquiries as to the ship Mantua; I found a ship called the Matatua sailed on 25th March—I made inquiries about the note, and on 24th April arrested the prisoner; I read the warrant, which charged him with obtaining £3 from Thomas Evans by false pretences, with intent to defraud—he said, "It is no use crying over it; I am sorry I did old Tom"—I conveyed him to the station—he was dressed in sailor's clothes, as he is now.
THOMAS OTTOWELL WOOD . I am superintendent to Shaw, Savill and Co., shipowners, of 34, Leadenhall Street—they own no vessel called the Mantua; they own the Matatua, which sailed on the 25th March—I heard the prisoner say something at the Police-court when I had given my evidence.
Cross-examined. I never heard of such a firm as Bailey, Son, and Wasting—in our business I know most of the firms, in London at any rate.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry; the time for sorrow has passed. "
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had uttered the document, but Although he knew it was false, he did not know it could be called a forgery.
GUILTY of uttering — Two Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment for a similar offence against the prisoner.
MR. BAILDON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH LIPPY . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 17, Narrow Street, Ratcliff—he is a dock labourer, and I do a little washing when I am able—on 26th March, the day before Good Friday, he did not come home to his tea at five, or soon after—I sent my son down with some washing I had done for Mrs. Collins—she sent me back word that her son-in-law was dead, and I went to her—she lives in the same street—she was in the Three Foxes public-house, next door to her—I went in; she called for a quartern of gin; I had part of it—we went into, a private compartment, and I saw my husband in the public compartment, and went round for him—he asked me what I would have; I said a glass of ale; he ordered and paid for it—I asked him for a half-crown to get our child's waistcoat out of pawn for Good Friday, and he gave me a half-crown out of his day's money—I don't think he was sober—I left him to get the waistcoat, but I went and sat down in Mrs. Collins' house, and talked to her—about twenty minutes to ten my husband came in and began to kick me, and I remember no more—he did nothing before he kicked me; I was sitting on a little stool in a corner—he kicked me from the stool, I think—I had only had part of the quartern of gin and a glass of ale to drink—he kicked me on the head—whether he kicked me on the stool or on the floor I cannot say—I have been very ill since—I think I was on the floor when he kicked me—he first kicked me on my forehead, I am quite clear—lie would not do it if he was sober—he drinks rum, and goes mad—he kicked me again, on the side of my head, I fancy—I don't remember anything else till I was in bed and a doctor was attending me—it was about twenty minutes to ten when he kicked me, because I was watching the clock—I began bleeding a little from the first kick, and it came on worse and worse, and the doctor bad to be called when the children found I was bleeding so—I am not well now—I have not been able to do any work since—we had not lived happily before that; he had assaulted me, but never kicked me before—he has hit me when he has been in drink; perhaps it might be my own fault sometimes—I should not be afraid of him if he was not to drink—I should be if he drank rum.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I never said anything about tea when I came into the public-house—I was not lying down asleep at Mrs. Collins—your tea was ready at five o'clock if you had come home.
By the COURT. I was going to the pawn-shop; they were open till ten that night; he did not reproach me with not having gone to the pawnshop; we did not quarrel, or have a word; he only came and kicked me—I believe he called me a name before he kicked me, but I cannot say.
MARY COLLINS . I live at 39, Narrow Street, Ratcliff—I am a widow—I work in a bottle warehouse when I am well—on 26th March Mrs. Lippy came to assist me, as I had lost my son—she was in the Three Foxes with her husband, and she called me in—I had a half-quartern of gin, which the prisoner paid for—she came into my place, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards the prisoner came in after her; she was sitting on a stool—he hit her with his fist, and then kicked her several times—he said nothing; they had no words—I got one kick on the back of my hand—he kicked her on the face—she bled a good deal in my
place—she pulled me down on the ground when she got the blow, and I could not get away from her while the prisoner was kicking her—afterwards she walked out with him—I saw her wounds.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You kicked her in the lower part of her body—we went in the Three Foxes, and had a quartern of gin before you came in—she and I were not lying on the floor when you came into my place—we were on the floor when you knocked us there—I was sitting on a chair and she on a stool when you came in—I was in the Three Foxes twice that night; I went in to borrow a table to lay my son on.
HENRY WRIGHT . I am a Bachelor of Medicine, a Master in Surgery, and Gold Medallist of the University of Edinburgh—on 27th March I was called up about 1.15 a.m. by Kightley, who said his mother was dying—I went with him to 17, Narrow Street, where I saw Mrs. Lippy lying on a bed covered with blood, and her head and face much disfigured; a great deal of blood was issuing from her mouth and ears—she seemed dazed and stupid; she did not seem to know anything about her position—I could get nothing from her; I saw it was a case of hæmorrhage, and went away to get remedies, and met the police as I came back; I applied the remedies and partially stopped the bleeding, and then I went with the police to King David Lane Station about a quarter to two or two; I returned to the woman and examined her more carefully, and found the perpendicular part of the frontal bone was fractured—on pressing my finger on the fracture I found there was increased effusion of blood from the mouth and nose, and I then knew there was communication between the base of the skull and the throat—there were several more injuries, of which I did not take special cognisance—the injury I have described would be sufficient to account for the bleeding from the ears—I did not examine the lower part of her body, as her dress was on, and it would have been unsafe—at the time I thought she was in an extremely dangerous condition, because these fractures are generally fatal—I think the kicking must have taken place later than Mrs. Lippy described, because I saw her at one o'clock, and the injuries appeared to be more recent than if done at ten or eleven—a kick on the forehead would cause the injury—I have attended her since; I think she will recover, but I cannot speak positively, because the remote results of brain injuries are so uncertain—I could not smell any liquor about her; she was stupid and dazed, but the injury to the head was sufficient to account for that, and I cannot say what it was due to—the prisoner appeared to be sober—as he was going to the station I heard him say he hoped he might hang for her—these cases used to be regarded as fatal, but lately there have been one or two recoveries from them—the injury might have been caused by a fall from a height on to a projecting point like a cobble stone, or by the person being lifted up and banged down, but not by an ordinary fall.
WILLIAM MILLS (H 99). On 27th March Mr. Wright sent a plain clothes constable for me, and I went to 17, Narrow Street, where I saw Mrs. Lippy bleeding from the mouth; her face was very much bruised and disfigured—the prisoner was there—I asked her how she received her injuries; she said, "My husband kicked me"—I asked the prisoner whether he denied kicking her; he said, "No, I did it"—he appeared to be sober; he was excited—I asked Mrs. Lippy if she would charge him;
she said, "Yes, as soon as I am better"—I arrested him—on leaving the house he said, "Good-night, I hope you will die, and then I shall have to swing for you. "
Cross-examined. You admitted to me you kicked her.
The Prisoner called
THOMAS LIPPY . I am your son—I was not at home when you got home—when I came in mother was sitting on the side of the bed drunk, and she picked up a chair without a back and went to aim it at you, and knocked all the things but one from the mantelpiece—I and my brother were there—this was on the night before Good Friday, in my mother's room, about twelve o'clock—she fell down indoors—you did not strike her while I was there—when she was lying on the bed asleep you walked over towards her—when she was throwing the chair at you I stopped you, and would not let you go over to her—she was on the bed then; she had her clothes on—she was wounded at this time; I did not see you kick her—when she picked up the chair she was bleeding.
FREDERICK KIGHTLEY . I am a journeyman butcher of 6, Chason Street, Stepney; I am your step-son—you made no remark in my presence in the house before you were taken away, but outside the house you said you hoped she would die and you should be swung for her; I am not sure of the exact words.
By the JURY. I am Mrs. Lippy's son by a former husband.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he found his wife lying on the floor at Mrs. Collins's; that he lifted her up and she fell on to the floor; that he lifted her up again; that she staggered on to the other side of the room, and fell down in the road when they got outside, and that her injuries were caused by her being drunk and falling about.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour,
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
JOHN FITMAN (J 359). About 5.30 on 25th March I saw the prisoner in Mayfield Road, Dalston—I was in plain clothes—I had been looking for him, acting under instructions, and I had a description of him in the Police Gazette—I said to him, "I am a police officer; is your name Arthur Little?"—he said, "No; it is Brown"—I said, "That will do as well; that is a name you commonly use"—he said, "Let me go indoors to get my whip and gloves, and I will go quietly"—I said, "No; you are a prisoner, and I shall not allow you to enter any place"—he then took hold of some iron railings, and commenced to kick back with his spurs—he was in the undress uniform of the 5th Lancers—he cut my left leg, below the knee, two and a half or three inches—he then applied to a young man in his company to bring his whip and gloves—when the whip was brought my hat had fallen off, and he commenced to belabour me over my head with the butt end of his whip, and he deliberately thrust the thin end of it in my left eye, cutting a piece out of my left eyelid and going down inside my eye—I fell on my back—I was assisted to my feet by a passing gentleman, and I saw the prisoner run through the
side gate of 99, Mayfield Road—I followed, and found him detained by a young woman at the wall—assistance came, and he was taken into custody—when he commenced to kick I struggled with ray fists, and when he was at the wall I struck at him; I cannot say whether I struck him or not—he struck me several times over the head with the whip—I was on the sick-list for five weeks after this—I suffered much from the wound in my eye—Dr. Jackman attended to me.
Cross-examined. I did not strike you first when you came to arrest me—I did not say to you in the Police-court, "You have only been a b-----soldier for ten months; you enlisted on 18th February and deserted on the 28th, and I wish I had punched you about more."
EMILY MORRIS . I am the wife of John Morris, and live at 105, Mayfield Road—on this day I heard a noise outside, and going out saw Fitman and the prisoner, who had the whip in his hand—Fitman fell to the ground, and the prisoner ran away down the street—I ran after him—he ran into the back garden of 99, Mayfield Road, and was getting over the wall when I caught hold of one leg—I heard someone call out that he had killed a man—he said, "Let me go"—I said, "You have killed a man "—he said, "Let me go "—I said, "I won't "—he said, "I will serve you the same "—I said, "You will not "—Lovell came to my assistance, and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. I did not see you strike Fitman, nor he you—I did not say to Fitman, "Don't strike him."
CHARLES HOWARD JACKMAN . I am a surgeon in Stoke Newington Road—Fitman was brought to my surgery about six o'clock on the 25th March, and I examined him—he had contusion of the eyelid; the upper eyelid was lacerated at the inner corner, and the eyeball was also injured—it was such an injury as might be produced by this whip being jobbed in the eye—I could not tell when I first examined him whether it would permanently affect his sight or not; he was in danger of losing the sight of that eye for a little time—he was under my care for some time—he is perfectly recovered now, and the sight of the eye is quite recovered—it was a painful wound—I saw an abrasion of the skin on his left leg just below his knee—he is on duty again now.
Cross-examined. The injury to the eye was the result of a poke, not a blow.
GEORGE OLDEN . I am a corporal of the 5th Lancers, stationed at Canterbury—the prisoner joined that regiment as a private on 18th February, and deserted on 28th February—he was only in the regiment ten days—his description was circulated in the Police Gazette.
The Prisoner called
ALICE NORRIS . I am the wife of George Norris, a carman; we live at 109 Mayfield Road—I was standing at our gate, and saw Fitman strike you first in the chest—you were standing against the railings holding them—you asked him to let you get your stick and gloves, and told him to let you go quietly—I said to my brother, "You go and get them, they are on the dresser," and my brother got them, and then I saw Fitman and the prisoner struggling, and I saw the prisoner kick Fitman when they were struggling.
Cross-examined. They were struggling before I told my brother to get the whip—when the prisoner got the whip he proceeded to lay it over the constable's head—I only saw him strike Fitman once with the whip
—I saw him hit his head, and Fitman fell back fainting then—I don't know where my brother is; he is not here.
Cross-examined. The prisoner has been living at Alice Norris' house—I did not know that till the day he was arrested—the first I saw of it was Fitman going up to the prisoner saying, "I want you as a deserter"—after Fitman struck him the prisoner caught hold of the railings—I saw the young man go and fetch the whip—the prisoner hit Fitman twice on the head with the whip when he had no hat on, and job him in the eye, and Fitman fell back fainting—the young man who fetched the whip was standing close by me—he is at work to-day, I believe—he saw the whole thing, and assisted in it.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that the constable began shoving him about and struck him, and that when he got his whip, he struck him back in self-defence, and that he fell to the ground,
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
420. GEORGE GILBERT (26) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of George Everson, and stealing two books and other articles; also** to a conviction of felony in November, 1888.— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
After MR. MUIR'S opening, the COMMON SERJEANT considered there was no case.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
There was an indictment against the prisoner for felony, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
For the case of Edwin George Porter, see Essex cases.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
423. JOSEPH ROADHOUSE (28) and ANNIE ROADHOUSE (24) PLEADED GUILTY to several indictments for obtaining money and children's clothes by false pretences. (MR. F. FULTON stated that the prisoners had obtained £200 and thirty-five children by their advertisements, and that five of the children could not be traced.) JOSEPH ROADHOUSE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. ANNIE ROADHOUSE— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
425. ALBERT RUSSELL (21) to uttering a forged dividend warrant for £99 15s. 11d., with, intent to defraud. He received a good character, and MR. LOCKWOOD, Q. C., for the prisoner, stated that restitution would be made. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.—Judgment respited. And[Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
BENJAMIN THOMAS WHITTINGTON . I am a rent collector, of 36, Hazleville Road, Hornsey Lane—on 18th April, about 9.30 p.m., I was in Baker's Industrial Dwellings, Catherine Wheel Alley, collecting rents—I went up to the fourth landing, and met three men coming down; I was there ten minutes, and as I came down to the first floor landing the same three men were standing waiting for me—it is a dark staircase, and I could not identify their faces, but their tout ensemble was the same—one put his hand on my mouth, I received blows on my eye and ear, and felt a hand in my pocket; I then lost my senses, and when I came to I was lying on the stairs, and missed my leather bag containing 6s. 6d. in silver, and my silk hat—this (produced) is my hat—I afterwards saw the boy McCarthy—I do not recognise the prisoner.
Cross-examined. This building is a large block—some of the people are very good tenants, and some are very rough, and the neighbourhood is rough.
JOHN MCCARTHY . I am thirteen years old, and live with my father and mother—on 18th April I was standing against the wall in Catherine Wheel Alley, and saw three men go up the stairs; the prisoner was one, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards Mr. Whittington went up—the three men came down again, and went towards Bishopsgate Street—I then heard a groan on the stairs, and went up and found Mr. Whittington, and came down with him, and went after the three men—I followed, saw them together, and followed them through Bishopsgate Street to Dorset Street—on 21st April I saw about twelve men at the Police-station, and picked the prisoner out—he was wearing the same brown coat as he had on on the night in question; I also recognised him by his face:.
Cross-examined. Detective Abbott told me to come to pick out the man I had seen at Baker's Buildings—the other men might be a little taller than the prisoner—some of them had beards, but I don't think they had brown coats—I stood under a I amp at Catherine Wheel Alley.
Re-examined. I know one of the other two men by name, but do not know the third by name or by sight.
GEORGE STAINER (City Policeman 917). On 18th April, about 9.40 p.m., I was standing between Catherine Wheel Alley and Widegate Street, and saw three men come out of Catherine Wheel Alley; the prisoner is one; one of them wore a high hat, that was not the prisoner; it was not in keeping with the rest of his clothes, which called my attention to him.
Cross-examined. I had not known the prisoner before—I said at the Police-court, "To the best of my belief the prisoner is the man."
seven p.m., I was in Dorset Street with my brother, Herbert, who is thirteen years old—I saw three men; the little one had a high hat, and seemed to be drunk; he had a bottle of stuff in his pocket, and was fooling about; he threw the high hat into the gutter, and picked it up and gave it to Johnson—this is it—the prisoner was one of the men, but not the one who wore the high hat.
Cross-examined. I had never seen him before—I said at the Policecourt that he looked like one of the men.
HERBERT DALLAS . I was with my brother when he picked up this hat—there were three men there—the prisoner looks like one of them—I do not know what time it was, but it was after my usual bedtime, eight o'clock.
THOMAS ABBOTT (City Detective Sergeant), On Saturday night, April 18th, the prosecutor came to the station and made a complaint, and on the 21st I saw the prisoner in Flinter's custody—I said, "I am a police officer; we are going to take you to the station on suspicion of being concerned, with two other men not in custody, for assault and robbery at Baker's Buildings on Saturday at 9.30"—he said, "All right, I am satisfied"—about an hour later I placed him with other men of similar stature, and McCarthy identified him—he made no reply; he was wearing the brown coat he is wearing now—two other men had brown coats—when he was charged he said, "I can bring plenty of witnesses to prove I was somewhere else at the time."
Cross-examined. He was arrested in Spital Square—the other men who were brown coats were as near the same-height as possible.
Re-examined. I came up with Flinter two minutes after he had stopped the prisoner.
B. T. WHITTINGTON (Re-examined by the JURY). This money was part of the rent I had collected—the prisoner does not live in the building.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I can bring witnesses to prove I was in another place altogether."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUTLTY** to a conviction of felony on March 18th, 1889.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
PETER CHRISTOPHER VOLKNER . I keep the Crooked Billet, St. George's Street—the prisoner owed me £4, and he came one evening in April, produced this advance note, and said, "You take £1 8s. out of it, and give me £2 12s. "—I gave him the £2 12s., and he left—on the Monday night, as I could not see the ship in the Shipping Gazette, I went to Crosby Square, and found they had not such a ship—I saw the prisoner on Tuesday, and told him I had been to Crosby Square, and it was false—he said it was all right, he signed in the Victoria Dock, and was going away, but I said, "You come to Leman Street Police-station and give an explanation"—masters of vessels never give these notes till after the men have signed articles.
MARY MURRAY . I am the wife of Wm. Murray, of 5, Red Lion Street, Wapping—I have known the prisoner about four years—about April 2nd he brought me this advance note—I took it to be a good one, as he had
brought me one before—he asked me to advance him 30s. on it, and take the rest for the old debt, which I did.
HARRY BENNETT . I am clerk to Forward Brothers, shipowners, 3, Crosby Square—there is no other firm of shipowners at that address to my knowledge—neither of these notes was issued by our authority, nor did we own either of the ships named—I do not know either of the names put down here as masters—the name of the owners is put down in all cases—as far as I know they are not genuine notes.
THOMAS CUMNER . On April 22nd the prisoner was charged at Leman Street Station with uttering advance notes—he made this statement, which I took down, and he signed it: "I, Robert Mason, of 31, Springer Street, of my own free will state that at 12 noon on the 20th instant I was engaged at the Victoria Dock by some person I do not know, as an able seaman on board the Atlantic; he then gave me an advance note; I have had it in my possession ever since, and I received £2 12s. on it.—ROBERT MASON"—I found on him three seamen's discharges in the name of Robert Mason—I asked him at first to write this document; he said he could not, and asked me to do it.
Cross-examined. You did not say you got them on board the ship.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "The notes were given to me."
GUILTY of uttering — Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. READ appeared for Pegg.
THOMAS WILLIAM LLOYD . I am a clerk to William Statts and Co., of 4 and 5, Love Lane—they received an advice note from Vienna of a case of silk marked L.E.B. 712, about April 4th or 5th—the case has never reached us.
WILLIAM HENRY LANGRIDGE . I am a clerk to Thomas Morrisson and Co., who trade as Fairtrop and Co., carriers—on April 16th I received instructions from Messrs. Schenkin and Co., continental carriers, to collect a case marked L.E.B. 712, for delivery to Messrs. Statts and Co., and another case marked N.K. 234, consigned to Bloom and Co., 42, Jewin Street—this is Messrs. Schenkin's delivery order—I handed it to our carman, Davis.
DAVID DAVIS . I am in the employ of Fairtrop and Sons—on 26th April I received this delivery order from Mr. Langridge—I drove the van with a boy, to Bishopsgate Goods Station, and received ten cases, including one marked L.E.B. 712, and one marked N. K. 234—I delivered a case in London Wall, and then went down Aldermanbury Avenue, and asked a boy named Cox, who I saw in the street, to look after my horse, about 11.45—these two cases were then in the van—I returned in about two hours, and found Cox there, eating bread and cheese—I noticed that the van was different, counted the cases, and missed two—I reported the matter at Moor Lane Police-station.
FREDERICK COX . I am fifteen years old, and am employed in a confectioner's shop—I live at 62, Banner Street, St. Luke's—on 16th April Davis spoke to me, and I took charge of his van in Aldermanbury—after he was gone, two men who I do not know, came and spoke to me,
and gave me twopence, and I went and got some bread and cheese in Aldermanbury, out of sight of the men—I was away about ten minutes, and on my return they had gone—I did not notice anything about the packages in the van.
Cross-examined by MR. READ. I did not see either of the prisoners.
DANIEL MAY . I am a tie and scarf manufacturer, trading as Coates and May, at 16, Australia Avenue—on 23rd April Pegg; who I had not known, called and offered some patterns of silk for sale, which I at once recognised as stolen, because I had already bought the goods from Messrs. Statts and Co. by pattern—I recognised the pattern—Pegg asked eightpence a yard for it; I said that they were badly assorted—he said, "There are more of them; I will bring the others in the morning"—I said, "You had better leave your name and address," and he gave me this billhead ("Bought of A. Pegg and Co.," etc.)—he came next day about twelve, showed me other patterns, and I arranged to have the goods at, I think, 7 3/4 d. per yard—I had bought them at 1s. 2d. and 1s. 2 1/2 d.—he said he would bring them between two and four—as soon as he had gone I went to Moor Lane and got an officer to come to my place in the afternoon.
CHARLES FISHER . I am a carman, of 143, Lever Street, St. Luke's—I know the prisoners; they have a little waste paper shop together down the yard—on 24th April Edwards came about twelve o'clock, and asked me if I had a van; I said I had not just then—I gave my man Walker instructions to assist Edwards about half-past one.
Cross-examined. It is three weeks or a month since I saw him first—I have not seen them together many times.
The prisoner Edwards. I did hire the van.
GEORGE WALKER . I am a carman, and drive for Mr. Fisher—on 24th April I saw both the prisoners; Edwards said, "Drive your van up the road"—they both got into it, and I drove to the Shakespeare public-house, Percival Street; we went in and had a drink, and Edwards came out and walked up Percival Street to St. John Street, Clerkenwell—we went to Brunswick Close, and Edwards brought out this bag (produced) and another—we drove back to Pegg at the Shakespeare, and Pegg said, "Drive the van to Jewin Street," that is near Coates and May's place of business—Pegg went upstairs, and Edwards took the two bags up afterwards.
Cross-examined. Pegg was not at St. John Street when the goods were put into the van.
THOMAS BREAK (City Policeman). On 24th, about nine a.m., I went to Mr. May's and remained there till twelve, when Pegg came in—there was a conversation between them—I was within hearing, but not in sight—he went to get the bulk of the property and I returned to Mr. May's at two p.m. and remained till three, when I heard a heavy noise as if something had dropped—I opened the office door and saw Pegg standing beside a full sack, and Edwards going out at a side door into a passage—Mr. May told me that those were the goods—I got the assistance of Lythel and Moody, and saw the prisoner apparently taking some silk out of his bag—I said, "Are you Mr. Payne?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Have you brought the whole of the goods?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Are they yours?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Have you bought them?"—he said, "Yes, but not paid for them"—I asked him to come into Mr. Coates' office, which he
did—I said, "I am a police officer; those goods are a portion of goods which have been stolen in transit, how do you account for the possession of them?"—he said, "I bought them of the man that brought them"—I said, "Where is he now?"—he said, "Down below in the street"—I asked him to come down to see if he could point him out, which he failed to do—I then took him in custody, and to Moor Lane Station—he said, "Can I speak to you privately?"—I said, "Yes, what do you want?"—he said, "I want to tell you from whom I bought the goods. "—I said, "It may be evidence against you"—he said, "I only want to speak the truth; I bought them of a man named Edwards, who hired the van from Mr. Fisher in York Mews, who has a shed in the mews"—I said, "Did you know they were stolen?"—he said, "No, I have done business with him about eighteen months, and have never had anything wrong before "—I then went with Lythel and Moody to York Road and spoke to Mr. Fisher—I afterwards saw three men coming down York Road—the prisoner Edwards was one—I said, "Which of you gentle-men is named Edwards?"—none of them owned to the name—I called to Fisher, and said, "Who hired the van of you to-day?"—he pointed to Edwards—I said, "This is the man you know by the name of Edwards?"—he said, "Yes"—Edwards denied it—I left him in charge of Lythel and Moody—Edwards lives in Britannia Street, City Road—I know 49, Baring Street, New North Road—there was no appearance of a wholesale paper dealer and mill agent being carried on there.
ROBERT MOODY (City 166). I was with Break in Australia Avenue, and followed Pegg to York Mews—I saw him again in Jewin Crescent after three o'clock; I also saw Edwards there; that was the first time I had seen Edwards—he was not with Pegg; he was standing in the street twenty yards away; he was wearing a dark coloured tie, similar to what he is wearing now, and he had a moustache—about an hour and a half afterwards I saw Edwards in York Road with his moustache off—Mr. Fisher picked him out afterwards—I went with Brooks to No. 60, and received four bags which I took to the station; they contained forty-five pieces of silk, and this paper wrapped round some of the bundles; one has "Coates and May" on it and the other "Thorns, Sands, and Thomas. "
SAMUEL LYTHEL (City Detective Sergeant). I was with Moody on 24th April, and saw Edwards in York Road with two other persons—neither of them answered to the name of Edwards—Mr. Break came, and I said, "Is this the man?"—he said, "Yes"—I called Edwards on one side and said, "I want to speak to you for a minute; do you know a man of the name of Payne?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Have you seen him recently?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "We are police officers, and shall take you in custody for stealing a lot of silk from an office in London last week; Page says he bought it of you to sell, and it is not paid for"—I then asked him to show me his place of business—he took me to a shed, or lock over a shed, where carts and trucks are kept; it contained bags of waste paper—Edwards said, "What does it mean?"—I said, "That is what Pegg has said; you had better go to the station with me," and gave him the usual caution—I said, "Have you been in the City to-day?"—he said, "I have not"—I said, "Have you been to Jewin Crescent at all?"—he said, "I have not"—at the police-station I charged them with being concerned with two other men not in custody in stealing
and receiving, on 16th April, a case containing forty-six rolls of silk, and there was another charge—they made no reply.
MORRIS HOPSTEIN (Interpreted). I live in Vienna, and have a silk manufactory there—William Statts and Co., of 4, Long Lane, are my London agents—on 3rd April I despatched a case to them, marked "L. E. B. 712," through Messrs. Schenikn and Co.; it contained forty-six pieces of silk, value about £80—I have seen forty-five pieces of it at the station and the cover in which it was wrapped; one piece is still missing.
The prisoner's statements before the Magistrate. Pegg says: "I was selling the goods for this man, Edwards; I had not the slightest idea they were stolen things. "Edwards says: "I had the samples given to me, and I sold them to Mr. Pegg."
Edwards' Defence. I did not try to conceal myself in any way; I never changed my clothes.
GUILTY .—Edwards then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony on 11th January, 1886. PEGG— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
EDWARDS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
For cases tried in this Court this day, see Surrey cases.
OLD COURT. Friday, May 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NELLIE HULL . I am the widow of Mr. Hull, who carried on business as a letter manufacturer at 202, High Holborn—I now carry on the business in partnership with my late husband's mother—the prisoner was clerk to my husband, who died three years ago—after that the prisoner was termed our manager, but I and my mother-in-law managed the business—if he received money his duty was to receipt the invoice or statement, and give the money to me directly he received it, and I marked it off in the invoice-book, and then entered it in the cash-book—there is no entry in the cash-book on 12th November or at any other time of £4 9s. 6d. from Allinson—I have not received that sum—I did not receive this cheque for £8 on 13th December, nor this for £2 on 21st January, 1891; those sums were not paid me—the endorsements on these two cheques and these receipts are in the prisoner's writing—moneys paid to the firm would be paid either to me or to my mother-in-law, and would be entered by one of us in the cash-book.
Cross-examined. My mother-in-law took an active part in the business before my husband's death, and she continues to do so—we have a clerk
—the ledger has not been kept properly as it should be—we keep a ledger as well as cash-book and invoice-book—the prisoner would post up the ledger—our business is supplying enamelled letters for outside windows and public-house signs and facias—the prisoner's duties were mostly out of doors; he was told to solicit orders; he did not canvass; lie only replied to the letters—we don't canvass for orders; we paid him thirty-five shillings a week, no commission; we paid his expenses—our business lies chiefly among builders, and a good deal among publicans—we post up the cash-book from the invoice-book—the invoice-book is in the writing of myself, my senior partner, and the prisoner, and was kept open in the office to all three of us—Mrs. Hull, sen., draws a weekly allowance from the firm; she fulfils the duties of cashier to a certain extent; she takes money—the three amounts charged in the indictment are entered in this invoice-book, which is open to me and my partner to look at whenever we like—they are not entered in the cash-book—the prisoner would be out the greater part of the day—the money he spent with a publican before he got an order would be refunded to him with his wages—there is no accountant in the office—the cash-book should be in the writing of myself and my partner.
Re-examined. The entries of the three sums in question in the invoice-book are marked "paid" in the prisoner's writing, but they are not in the cash-book—if I had received them they would have been.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner, and he took my order; he called as the firm's representative, but he did not get my order, because I passed the firm on my way to the City.
JAMES HENRY MATHEWS . I am a jeweller, of 77, High Street, Camden Town—on 20th January I sent a cheque for £2 to Hull and Nash—it has been returned through my bank in the ordinary course, marked "Paid. "
Cross-examined. My husband called and gave the first order—the prisoner called twice afterwards.
ALBERT ENGLAND (E 408). On the morning of 3rd April the prisoner was given into my custody for forgery and embezzlement—I asked Mrs. Hull, in his presence, whether she wished to give him into custody—she said, "For embezzlement and forgery"—the prisoner made no reply—I took him into custody—he made no reply to the charge—he gave an address at High Street, Bloomsbury.
SIDNEY TEMLETT (Detective Sergeant E). went to the prisoner's address on 3rd April and searched his room, and found a large quantity of letters, about 200, I should think, addressed to Messrs. Nash and Hull—they were in his private room.
NELLIE HULL (Re-examined). I had not seen the letters before they were found in the prisoner's room—he had no authority to take them to his own house—he engaged clerks for us, and carried on part of our correspondence—he inserted advertisements in the daily papers for us under my directions.
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury, as the evidence was that two members of the firm were authorised to receive money, and only one of those persons had been called to say she did not receive it; moreover, it was proved that the prisoner had entered the amounts in question in one of the books of the firm. The RECORDER held that there was no case.
NOT GUILTY .
There were four other indictments against the prisoner for forgery and embezzlement. MR. HUTTON applied that the case might be adjourned until Mrs. Hull, sen., the other member of the firm, could be brought to give evidence. MR. GEOGHEGAN contended that the prisoner was entitled to be tried at once. The RECORDER ruled that the case could not be adjourned. MR. HUTTON stated that he could not proceed in the absence of Mrs. Hull, and offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
431. GEORGE HENRY WYATT , being an undischarged bankrupt, unlawfully obtaining credit to the extent of £450 from Thomas Day. Second Count, for obtaining credit to the extent of £35 from the Patent Wood Paving Company, Limited.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. TYRRELL Defended.
CHARLES L'ENFANT . I am an officer of the City of London Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of George Henry Wyatt, adjudicated in September, 1886; he was in partnership with John Strip, as Strip and Co.—there is no discharge on the file of Wyatt from that bankruptcy—I find a second adjudication of George Wyatt, on 13th May, 1890, on. the petition of the Patent Wood Decoration Company in respect of a judgment debt of £55—this is a transcript of the shorthand notes of his public examination on the file on 5th March, 1891, there was an order by Mr. Registrar Linklater to prosecute.
Cross-examined. The judgment in the Queen's Bench Division on which this petition was presented was obtained against E. Wyatt, I believe, otherwise known as George Henry.
THOMAS DAY . I live at Cheltenham Terrace, Chelsea, and am a retired licensed victualler—in August, 1887, I made the prisoner's acquaintance through William Bloore, of 43, Eton Place, who introduced us; William Bloore was a friend of mine; he is a vestryman of St. George's, Hanover Square—in introducing Wyatt he described him as a friend of his who wanted a little money to assist him in building and finishing some property at Twickenham, St. Margaret's; he said he was being crushed, he could not get any money from the solicitors, Kennedy, of Chancery Lane, and May and May; they had got mortgages on the property, and would not grant him any more, and he could not get any more advances, and would I lend him a little—I lent him some for a few weeks, and borrowed some to let him have a further loan, just temporarily, to be repaid—he said he wanted to finish these houses with the money I let him have to pay the wages—he thought he should get a larger mortgage and nay these mortgagees off—he paid me back those small amounts that I lent him, two or three times without any interest at all—I took these I O U's from him—then it got on to about £30 or £40, I. think, and he could not repay that was before November, 1887—he said if I could let him have a little more he would no doubt get the mortgage—I went up with him to my
bank, the National Provincial, on 25th November, 1887, and I let him have £60 or £70 to make up £100—he gave me a £100 promissory note, with Bloore's and his wife's and his own name on it—he then told me his wife had the building lease or building agreement—when I had advanced him the £30 or £40 he had told me nothing about his wife, she had not been mentioned till it came to the larger amount—I think this is the promissory note. (This was a joint and several promise to pay at three months, signed by G. H. Wyatt, Elizabeth Wyatt, and William Bloore)—these are notes the manager of the bank gave me of the times I drew out the different moneys—the prisoner had made no statement to me at this time as to his being an undischarged bankrupt; I should not have let him have the money if I had known that—on December 0th, 1887, he had £100 from me—I took from him a charge from his wife on her property; this a copy of it; it is dated 3rd December, 1887; it is a charge on her property in respect of £100, and any further sums that might be advanced by me—apparently by this document I knew on 3rd December that it was the wife's property, and that it was upon that security I was advancing my money—apparently by the documents the promissory note was given on 6th December, instead of in November, when I had already got the security from his wife—the charge itself I took to the bank manager and then to my solicitor, who has it now, I understand—from that date, whatever sums I advanced I advanced on the security of the charge—I advanced altogether £450, but with interest and principal, and the costs of two actions against Wyatt and his wife it comes to over £500—I sued Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt, and got judgment against them—I sued her separately in respect of her separate estate—I made this affidavit under order 14, and got judgment—I said in the affidavit that I sued her on a joint and several promissory note given me for the advance of £450, and that she was possessed of certain hereditaments at St. Margaret's, and that she had charged that on 3rd December, 1887, in my favour for the repayment of certain sums and interest.
Cross-examined. The prisoner paid me the smaller amounts two or three times—£30 or £40, part of the £450, he borrowed before 25th November, and did not repay—those £30 or £40 were included in the £100, for which I took the joint and several promissory note—I swore in my information before the Magistrate that by April, 1888, the bankrupt had had £450, and that he subsequently gave me two joint and several promissory notes, one for £50, dated 7th April, 1888, and one for £400, dated 21st June, 1888—it did not come clearly to my mind at the time—I think that what I was speaking of as taking place in 1888 really took place in December, 1887—I was mistaken as to the date—I think the prisoner told me on the first occasion where the buildings were, which he wanted money to complete, and that they were mortgaged, and that he could get no further advance—I did not ask to see the mortgages, May and may had got them, who were financing him—I did not see May and May before I made the advance—I did not see them before he gave me the charge—he did not tell me the property belonged to his wife, who was building these houses when he first commenced to borrow money, nor did Bloore tell me—he was an acquaintance of mine; I don't think he knew, he said he did not.
Re-examined It slipped my memory that I had that charge in December,
1887—finding now I had it on 3rd December, 1887, and that it is to secure all future advances, it apparently covers the whole amount.
MR. GILL said that upon this evidence he would not support the first count of the indictment,
EDMUND HOWLETT . I live at Lower Derby Road, "Watford, and am a traveller for the Patent Wood Company, Limited—about July, 1889, I was introduced to the prisoner, as a builder, by Mr. Shrieve, a tea merchant—the prisoner said he should soon be wanting mouldings and doors and timber, I forget exactly what it was—he said he was building at Twickenham—a few days afterwards he gave an order for mouldings and doors to the amount of £10; they were sent to Twickenham—nothing was said then about any person having an interest in the buildings except myself—afterwards I went to Twickenham and saw the buildings, and he introduced me to Mrs. Wyatt, and said he would go over the shops with me, and then he would let me have another order; and when we were in the shops he said his wife's money was invested in these shops; I don't know whether he said the shops were in his wife's name or not—he gave another order for about £20 worth of" goods, which he had—I was dealing with him, so far as I knew; he never said anything as to trusting his wife, not a word, nor as to his being an undischarged bankrupt; if I had known he was I should not have let him have the goods—I don't think I learnt that till the beginning of 1890, about January or February—I spoke to him from time to time with regard to payment for these goods; he promised time after time that he would pay for them; promised to send a part of the money, and so on—he sent me two or three letters, and wrote to the company giving reasons for not paying, I believe, but I cannot say what the reasons were—when I spoke to him about payment he merely said he could not get finished, and something about advances, I think; I forget now what was said—he never suggested that I had given credit to his wife. (MR. GILL read a letter from the prisoner to the company about non-payment.)
Cross-examined. I know now that the prisoner's name is George Henry and his wife's Elizabeth—all the letters from him were signed Elizabeth—I did not go to Twickenham to see if he was. a suitable person to give credit to; he asked me to go to see his wife because his wife's maiden name was the same as mine, and it was possible we might be related—at Twickenham he said his wife's money was invested in the houses; I won't swear he said they were in her name—I sent the goods to E. Wyatt—he told me when I went over the shops that they were in his wife's name because her money was invested in them—he did say they were in her name—I was not before the Registrar when she was examined—I don't know whether she swore that the goods were obtained in her name, or that she authorised her husband to obtain them.
Re-examined. I knew no person as E. Wyatt except the prisoner—from. first to last he never suggested that his wife was dealing with me in anyway—these are the letters.
By the COURT. The Patent Wood Company did not institute these proceedings.
NOT GUILTY .
433. JOSEPH ROBERT HOSKER PLEADED GUILTY to a common assault on Jane Stamforth. MR. BIRON, for the prosecution, stated that he did not desire to press the charge against the prisoner, MR. GEOGHEGAN, on behalf of the prisoner, tendered an apology to the prosecutrix, and stated that the prisoner had volunteered to pay the costs of the prosecution. Several witnesses deposed to his good character.— Five Days' Imprisonment, and to pay the taxed costs of the prosecution.
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, May 8th and 9th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. GRAIN and WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and MUIR appeared for Goatly and Slade.
JAMES LESLIE WRIGHT . I am in partnership with my brother, as Wright and Harrington, umbrella furnishers, at Birmingham—on 1st April, 1890, we entered into an arrangement with Goatly—the bulk of the agreement was put down on paper; these (produced) are the two letters; they were made out about the same date, one for ourselves to sign, and the other for Goatly to sign. (One of these stated that Goatly teas to enter the prosecutor's service as an agent, at 2 1/2 per cent, commission; the other teas from the witness accepting the terms; three months' notice to be given on either side, the agreement to continue in force for five years)—the sole remuneration was 2 1/2 per cent, on the sales; he was afterwards allowed to act as agent for two other manufacturers, but not in umbrella furnishing, only umbrella sticks and ribs—Goatly introduced Slade to me, and he was ultimately engaged to assist Goatly in the London warehouse, but he was in our employment; we paid his salary—Goatly had no power to endorse cheques; he had to send them to us in course of post—hard cash we allowed him to retain and pay Slade's wages, fifteen shillings a week, and his petty expenses, and the boy's wages, and to account every month, but he had to advise us every night of money received—he had a duplicate day-book (produced)—this shows the name of the customer, and the goods sold, so that if the thing was regularly carried out we should have a duplicate set of books at Birmingham—on 1st April I sent up a considerable stock to start Goatly with, and we were constantly receiving requests from him for more goods—I have about a dozen letters, as specimens—these are some of them. (These requested more stock to be sent, as he must be fully prepared to execute certain commissions)—these letters are principally in answer to charges made by us, copies of which we have—Goatly took stock on 31st December, and I came up and took stock about 20th March, unknown to Goatly or Slade—I had with me the quantity of goods that had been dispatched, showing what ought to be in stock, and the result of my examination was that there was a very large deficiency—we have a book at Birmingham called the Dispatch-book, in which are entered all goods dispatched for London, and sale-sheets showing the exact amount and description of the goods sold; and by making a calculation between the two we could ascertain exactly what we ought to have in stock—acting upon that basis I found a very large deficiency of stock, in grosses and dozens, amounting to
about £500—I had separate interviews with Goatly and Slade—I first asked Slade to give me an explanation of the large quantity of stock which was deficient—he said he did not know at all what I was talking about, and would throw no light on the matter—Goatly was out then; when he came in I said, "I want you to give me an explanation of this large quantity of stock which is deficient"—he said, "I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Wright; you must be mad"—I said, "Do you mean to say that you know nothing of large quantities of our goods being sold round the trade at ridiculously low prices?"—he said, "I have heard it"—I said, "Then why on earth did not you tell us about this, when we have written you all these letters, asking for an explanation of deficiencies, and telegraphed to you to come to Birmingham and give us information where our stock is going"—he said, "I did not like to worry you, Mr. Wright"—I said, "Where are Osborne's stock?"—he took me across the load to an outside warehouse, and drew open a drawer, and said, "Here they are"—I glanced at them, and perceived that they were all right—when He took over the agency there were ten dozen of those sticks brought there by my orders; Goatly has never returned me any portion of them as having been sold; they are silver plated—just before we took criminal proceedings I examined the quantity of sticks in that drawer, and found only thirty-five; I cannot find any trace of any of the others in any of our books—Goatly has never accounted to me in any shape or form or the missing sticks; they are peculiar, they are made in America both handles and sticks; we are the sole dealers in them for the whole of the United Kingdom—I dismissed Goatly and Slade the following day, and took possession of the warehouse and its contents—it was our warehouse—we paid the rent, they had nothing to do with that—I knew nothing about the Rudmans until I made inquiries of the police—prior to seeing Goatly on 20th March, I had received anonymous communications about him, which "brought me up to London—I communicated with the police, and in the result the four prisoners were given into custody.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. My previous agent was Corder, he stayed up to 1st April, 1890, when I engaged Goatly—this document, containing the terms of the hiring, has not been executed by Goatly; I drew it up, and brought it to London, but it was not signed, as in consequence of what I heard in reference to Goatly I refused to sign it—I called on Mr. Cuzner, a stickmaker, who was also represented by Goatly—he informed me that Goatly was trading in his own name, and selling sticks; I came straight to the office and charged Goatly with carrying on business of his own, which he denied—I said, "I am very sorry, Goatly, that before you have been our representative a month or two you should break faith with us, because I have found that it is true"—he then admitted it—I said I could not allow it—he said it should be forthwith abandoned, but I did not require him to sign the agreement, because he had broken faith with us, and it was for five years—we did not take stock when he went in on the 1st April, and I have no means of knowing the amount of stock which he took over from Order—it would take us two or three days to remove the stock—I cannot give the jury any idea of the amount of stock he took over—the ferrules are made up in small packages, and they are packed in pigeon-holes about two feet deep—whether the pigeon-holes are entirely filled depends on
the quantity of stock—they might not be entirely full, because each hole is kept for a different size—we pack from back to front, and if a person did not look behind the front tier he could not see if the back tier had gone—we have about one hundred pigeon-holes—our stock consists of ferrules and umbrella-handles, which were in boxes with sliding lids—the boxes are also placed in pigeon-holes, and unless the lid is taken off it might be empty without a person knowing it—they were also packed from back to front—we have some tip-caps in stock; they are not missing—we took over Osborne's sticks with his other stock—Corder was not agent for Osborne at the time he was agent for us—when we took stock on April 1st we made our calculation at Birmingham, but Goatly took stock at Christmas—I looked at our books to see what stock had been forwarded to Goatly, between April 1st and December 31st, and then compared the amount of sales between the same dates, without taking any account at all of the stock on the premises on April 1st; what that was I do not know—the total number of ferrules consigned between April 1st and December 31st was about 1,735 gross, but I can give you the figures of which that amount is composed—I took stock again about April 1st, 1891, and there was a deficiency of 811 gross—I have no record of the total number—I have no record of the sales between 1st January and 30th March; I only have the result—I cannot remember making any inquiry about Goatly's character, but I feel certain we did—when I dismissed him on 21st March, I do not remember saying, "You have been disposing of these goods to various persons, and we nave every proof "—my solicitor was with me; he did not, I believe, say so—I do not believe I said then, "We shall apply for warrants for your arrest," but I certainly told him se afterwards—I do not remember his saying, "I heard some time since that there were a few goods offered for sale in the market at lower prices, and endeavoured to trace where they came from, or whether I was told so by others—I inquired of Mr. Mellish, Mr. Harlow, and several others—I employed Mozer, a private inquiry agent, and went with him on Monday, March 23rd, to our office—Goatly had been discharged on the Saturday, and I do not remember seeing him that day—he did not say, "I know nothing of the missing stock; we are anxious that the matter should be cleared up, as our reputation is of greater value than the missing stock"—my brother is not here—I applied for warrants, but they were not granted—I was told to give them in custody, but did not do so till April 6th—I have been served with a writ for slander, but I have never opened it.
Re-examined, On March 21st, when I made the discovery, I immediately communicated with my solicitor, and Mozer was employed—I went to Guildhall on 21st March and swore an information against the four prisoners, and applied at once to the Alderman for warrants—I then communicated with the City Police, and Mr. Davidson, from the Old Jewry, was appointed to conduct the case—he thought some inquiries were necessary—Messrs. Michael Abrahams and Co.'s name is on the writ—I have heard no more of it—when I came up on 20th March I brought up certain papers by which I could check the stock, and the total consignment of stock was brought up afterwards—I had extracts from the books showing the total return of sales by Goatly, and arrived at the result I have told you—I was very
careful, but we can never tell the full extent of our loss, because we did not know the full amount of Corder's stock, but I have given in over and above the amount of it—I only go upon the amount of stock sent up—if Corder's stock is there, so much the better for us, but it does not lessen the deficiency.
JAMES PHELPS . I am an umbrella and walking-stick manufacturer, of 137, St. John's Road, Hoxton—I kept a shop a month before Christmas, but do not now—about October, 1890, I saw Edward Rudman at my shop, Pimlico Walk, Hoxton—he brought about half a dozen samples of metal handles similar to these, and said they were his own—I did not buy any—he did not give me his address—he came again three or four days afterwards with samples of handles, but I did not purchase any; and again a few days after that—I told him I was buying them cheaper somewhere else—he then called with ferrules done up in packets similar to these—there was no label on the first lot—I purchased twenty-three gross at 4s. a gross, and took this invoice. (Dated 19.11; 23 gross assorted ferrules, at 4s., £4 11s. 5 per cent, discount)—I saw him write that and receipt it, "G. White and Co., 3, Morland Street, Goswell Road"—on 20th November he came again alone; I had not seen his brother at that time—I had another deal with him, "36 gross assorted ferrules, at 1s. a gross, £1 16s.—G. H. WHITE "—he called again alone, and I had another deal, "2 gross and 4 dozen assorted handles, at 2s., £2 16s.—Received, H. WHITE"; and again on the 28th, "80 gross ferrules, at 1s.—Paid, H. WHITE"—on 12th December here is a bill of H. White for forty-four gross, of ferrules—those are all the receipts I produce, but I have had dealings with him in the same articles; altogether I have had six or seven hundred gross of ferrules, and two gross and four dozen handles—my last dealing with Edward was about a month before the case came on—about a month after I first saw Edward, Harry came with him, and they were nearly always together afterwards—Edward did all the bargaining and wrote the receipt and took the money, he was generally the spokesman—the third lot had a label on them, "Wright and Harrington," and I said, These come from the firm of Wright and Harrington—he said, "Yes, that is right, they are my own goods, I bought them; there is nothing to fear, it is all right"—I knew the name, but I did not know the firm—when he came again I said, "It is curious you can sell them so cheap"—he said, "The manager at Wright and Harrington's is my brother, and I get them cheaper than anyone else"—I did not feel satisfied with that answer, and sent my card to Wright and Harrington's by a man named Artis, at Bartholomew Lane; he knew the address; he came back in the evening and saw me—after that I had another deal, and the label was on again—Edward said to me, "You was a fool to send in your card, I told you it was all right, and there was nothing to fear; I have sold them at lots of places in the City"—I said, "I have not received the answer yet; they are going to send me a price-list, but they have not done so"—he came again and brought goods with labels on, and said, "You sent a man into the City to sell these ferrules near where they came from; the firm your man went to have wrote to the firm about it"—I said, "You did not tell me not; you said they were all right, and he could go where he liked"—I had sent a man to sell them, Barnett—Edward said, "You did not ought to go near the firm to sell them"—I said, "I don't care where
he sells them if he buys them of me; it seems funny you don't want me to go to the City to sell them"—he said, "Well, I buy them off Goatly and Slade, and it is all right," so I did not think much more about it after that, but if I wanted any I bought them—I did not get a price-list—Edward said that Goatly was his brother and the manager—I asked Harry if that was right—he said, "It is a lie; Goatly is the manager, but he is not my brother"—I have never spoken to Goatly or Slade in my life—it never occurred to me to go to the warehouse and get a price-list for myself—I recollect being seen by a police officer, and a night or so before that Edward Rudman called at my house at Hoxton, and said, "I have come to tell you that there is a bother about the ferrules; Mr. Wright has come to London, and has been into his firm in the City to inquire about the loss of these ferrules, and I have come round to tell you about it; if you have any I will take them off your hands myself to save you from getting into trouble, as I have got a shop now where I can take them"—"I said, "What I have bought I shall keep; I have only a few left; as I have paid you for them I shan't give them to you back again"—he said, "Will, you trust me with half a gross-of walking-sticks to put in my shop?"—I refused—he said I was not to be surprised if Mr. Wright and the detective called on me that night, as he had seen them going up Pimlico Walk, where I used to live, and he had been in an umbrella shop that afternoon, Mr. Bunn's, in Brick Lane, and Mr. Wright and the detective had called there, but did not know him, and he left to give the other ones the tip, and mentioned Small and Curney and Mr. Bull, of the City Road, and Bignell, and said, "Whatever becomes of this case I will never bring Goatly or Slade into it"—Harry Rudman was present at that time—Brown was at my place for about two minutes—he is a stick-seller—I knew before they came that all the articles I was buying were very much under the price—I knew Bunn—I I have only seen the boy, John Rudman, once.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I never saw Goatly or Slade—I never went to 53, Aldermanbury to make inquiries—Rudman said, "I can supply you myself; the manager is my brother, and I can get them cheaper that anyone else at certain times; parcels are made up for me, and I call for them in the morning or at dinner-time, and they are given to me"—when he found fault with me for disposing of them so near the place of business of the firm, I thought of going to 53, Aldermanbury, but he said, "It is all right, don't you trouble"—his words were, "Whatever comes to pass I will not bring Goatly or Slade into it; I would suffer death first"—he said that Goatly was a gentleman—I knew that the two Rudmans had a brother in the service of Goatly and Slade; he came to me once, he is about sixteen—about thirty gross of ferrules were brought on that occasion; I cannot say whether he carried any of them—Rudman said, "This is my brother"—he is a witness for the prosecution—I did not say to him, "Is this done with the authority of the firm?" I never spoke to him; he only came with his brother, and I had no occasion to ask him; what could I do more than send in my card?
Cross-examined by Edward Rudman. I also bought goods of Bunn—about a month after I knew you you introduced your brother—you sold the thirty-six gross on 20th November at ninepence, and I asked you to make the bill out at a shilling—I entered a false amount because you
said they would sell better—I do not remember asking you to make out the bill for double money; I did not ask you if the goods were to be kept quiet; that is a get up, no such thing—there is a bill and receipt made out at six shillings a gross, and I paid you three shillings a gross; you suggested that—I did not say to you, "Give any address"—I authorised my wife to pay you two shillings a dozen for the handles, not a shilling; I have not bought anything of you this year—I hare fire receipts here, but through moving I have mislaid five or six others—I did not tell you not to fear, it was not you the police wanted—I sent my card to the firm for a price-list—you asked me for two or three cards, and went round and said you were selling for me—I moved from Pimlico "Walk in February; I had, I think, two transactions with you at St. Joints Road—you left some silver-mounted sticks about a month ago when I was out, and I would not have anything to do with them—I bought goods of you three weeks before you were arrested; you say I owe you £8, but I do not; you told me you were starving, and I gave you a half-crown; you said that you walked the streets for two nights—I never owed you anything; you took good care of that.
Cross-examined by Harry Rudman. You did not give your name as White, but your brother did—I never saw Goatly and Slade till this case came on, but your brother mentioned their names several times in your company, and you mentioned them also—I swear you were present when your brother had a conversation with me about Mr. "Wright.
MARK BARNETT . I am a stickmaker, of 247, Cable Street East—I have known both the Rudmans since the Saturday before Good Friday—I was with Phelps taking a ramble round Hoxton, and the two Rudmans came along; Phelps spoke to them first, and went into his own house; I waited outside, and the two Rudmans waited some distance from me; I did not speak to them—I had no ferrules in my pocket, but I had received some from Phelps and a man named Bunn—I have none now; I only bought them to sell; I sold them all—I met the two Rudmans a few yards from the Robin Hood, and went in there with them and Phelps—I told Edward I was surprised he could get so many ferrules as he did—he said, "My brother is employed there"—I said I had looked for him on several occasions—he said, "Where?"—I said, "When I was in the neighbourhood of Aldermanbury; I looked outside White and Harrington's firm to see whether I could see you, but not knowing you I did not know who to look for; if I had seen anyone come down with a parcel I should have put it down as you"—he said he saw me outside, and took me for a policeman—I said, "I do not think it is possible for your brother to bring out large parcels like that"—he said, "It is generally done at dinner-time"—I said, "Somebody must have known something about it besides your brother"—he said he would sooner suffer ten years' imprisonment than he would bring Goatly into it; Goatly was a gentleman; he took an oath and said Goatly knew nothing about it—I told him I tried to sell some to Bignolles—he said he had sold them hundreds of gross; they had had more than anybody—they are umbrella manufacturers—he asked if I had sold the goods in my own name—I said yes—he said I was a fool to do so—I said I cannot alter my name, as I had been doing business with the people some years—he asked me if I had a receipt for the ferrules; I
said no—he offered to make one out, which I declined—I had not bought any of him; I never made any purchases of him in my life; I never saw him before that night.
By the COURT. I had between 150 and 200 gross of ferrules from Phelps and Bunn—some had the name of Wright and Harrington on then, and some had not.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I thought the ferrules might have come from some long firm, who obtained them on credit, and that I might buy them of the people who sold them to him a little cheaper—when Edward said, "My brother is employed there," he did not say John—I do not know whether John Rudman was left there at dinner-time—he said God strike him blind he would sooner die than bring Goatly into it, and would rather suffer ten years—I never heard Blade's name mentioned.
Cross-examined by Edward Rudman. You were in my company about three hours, from ten o'clock till the public-houses shut—I left you outside at 12.30.
Re-examined. Seeing the goods marked Wright and Harrington I thought I would watch the premises—I saw the boy John Rudman before the Alderman.
HENEY CURLEY . I am an umbrella-maker, of 15, Hoxton Street—I know Edward Rudman as White—I saw Harry in his company once, but know nothing of him, or of Goatly or Slade—about the end of February Edward Rudman came to my shop alone, and asked if I could do anything with ferrules—I knew there were a lot in the market, and I told him I had already ordered a lot, and said, "I know who you are from: Phelps"—he said, "I am travelling for Phelps"—he was a man I bought of—he asked me what I would pay for them, and asked me one and twopence a gross for these ferrules, and then brought them down to ninepence per gross, and I gave him an order for ten or twelve gross—a fortnight afterwards he brought me twenty-five gross, which I took—these are some.; I have the others at home—they were in packets, with Wright and Harrington's label on them—he gave me the name of White when he came—I don't think I took any invoice; he gave me no receipt—that is the usual way I do business—a few days afterwards he called again, and asked if I could do with anything else; I said I had been round and could not get any more orders; it seamed that everybody was full up with them—I had been with them to Mr. King's and other shops, and tried to sell them, and found they were well-stocked with that article—I told him to call again—after he had gone away I saw Barnett in Lombard Street (where I stand with walking-sticks and umbrellas), and I had a conversation with him about White—when I got home I found a parcel of thirty gross more, with Wright and Harrington's labels on them; they had been left with my missus, no written message was left with them—Barnett took them away, and sold them—Edward Rudman waited till I came home; he told me there were thirty gross, and I paid him sixpence a gross: fifteen shillings—I had told him previously I could not take any more, but I had found a market in the meantime through Barnett—I took this receipt from him. (The receipt was dated 22nd February, 1891, and was for sixty gross)—he made out the receipt for sixty, and I gave him level money—the receipt is supposed to be for the two transaction, the twenty-five and thirty; the
price is put at one shilling a gross, because I told him the market was full up and I could not sell them, and giving him 9d. a gross for the first twenty-five, he said, "I will give you a receipt for 1s."—I paid 6d. a gross for the second lot—I did not look at the receipt—it was altered to 1s. because I might get a better market for them and get 1s. back—I thought it an honest transaction—I asked him where he got them, and he told me he was a traveller from Phelps, and I asked no further questions—I did not know they were very much under the price, and they are not under the price I am sure; I am in the line.
cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I have never seen Goatly or Slade, or had any transaction with them, or any knowledge of them—I never saw John Rudman with his brother—until I saw him at the Police-court I knew nothing about him—I did not know he was employed at Wright and Harrington's.
Cross-examined by Edward Rudman. I saw you on the Saturday before you were arrested—I saw Phelps give you 2s. 6d. in a public-house; not 10s.—there was an arrangement about money he owed you; I went away—I cannot say I remember advising him to give you 10s.—I cannot say if he owed you several pounds; you were in deep conversation with him; I don't know what it was about.
JOHN EUDMAN . I am sixteen, and the brother of the two Rudmans, the prisoners—I live at home with my mother and father at 328, Compton Buildings, Goswell Road—before I went to Wright and Harrington's I was at Moore and Company's, Westmoreland Buildings, Aldersgate Street, umbrella makers; Slade was in their employment—I left Moore and Company at Christmas, 1889—about April Mr. Moore told me to go round to Wright and Harrington's—I saw there first Slade, and afterwards Goatly—I was taken on there as parcels boy on the following Monday—I had to run errands and clean up the place, and nut it to rights—there was only one entrance-door to Wright and Harrington's premises, which are all on the first floor; it does not communicate with other premises—other people are in the building, but Wright and Harrington had the first floor, and there is one entrance-door from the landing, and when that is locked there is no means of getting into their premises without breaking in—Goatly generally kept the key when the place was locked up at night; sometimes I took it—if I got there before them in the morning I had to wait—Slade sometimes took the key—during part of the time I was with the prosecutors my brothers lived at homo; I cannot say when they left and lodged elsewhere—Goatly and Slade were sometimes out together in the dinner-hour, so that I was left alone in the warehouse—during the other part of the day either one or the other would be in to receive customers; once or twice they were both out in the afternoon, leaving me alone—I had nothing to do with the books except a parcels book that I took out—I have never seen either of my brothers at the warehouse or outside it—I have never, when I have gone in in the morning, found any disturbance of the stock, or any sign of the stock having been pulled about or altered since the warehouse had been locked up the previous night—I have never taken out parcels of goods belonging to Wright and Harrington and given them to either of my brothers—I have never taken out any parcels except those I was ordered to take out by my master, or by Goatly or Slade-soon after I began work at Wright and Harrington's Goatly did
not tell me to go over to Corder's for some sticks—either Mr. Osborne or Mr. Wright sent me over, and I fetched a bundle of ten dozen sticks to the warehouse—about 20th March Mr. Wright came to the warehouse, and took me into the office, and spoke to me—Goatly and Slade were not there—I was not present when Mr. Wright spoke to Goatly or Slade afterwards—when Mr. Wright came up on that occasion I was putting some of Wright and Harrington's ferrules on to some sticks—Slade had told me to do that—after Mr. Wright had taken me away and talked to me, and I came back, those ferrules had been taken away—I afterwards saw them in a box with some other odd things—I took them out of the box and showed them to Mr. Wright—it was talked about in the warehouse that Mr. Wright was coming up, and when it was said he was coming up, sometimes Goatly and sometimes Slade asked me to put Goatly and Slade's sticks away—sometimes I had done something to those sticks, sometimes not—I know Abel; his place is close by Aldermanbury—at different times I have received instructions from Goatly and Slade to take sticks on which I had put ferrules from Wright and Harrington's stock to Abel's to finish; that was his business.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Goatly and Slade were carrying on a business of their own in selling sticks, their own property—I cannot say how many sticks I took to Abel's, more than one hundred, not one thousand—I took the ferrules from those on Wright and Harrington's premises—I knew my brothers lived in lodgings at 83, Morland Street, City Road—I gave my evidence at the Police-court before Mrs. Gaverston was called; it was read over to me, and I said it was correct—I said, "I have never been to Mrs. Gaverston's, of 83, Morland Street—I have been there, but not inside; I have been two or three times to see whether my brother was in, and he was not—I have never put my foot inside the door once—I heard Mrs. Gaverston give evidence, and say, "The witness Rudman I have seen there every night," and that I was with my brother there every night—that is untrue—I was never there—when I was left last at Wright and Harrington's I took the key and let myself in in the morning—I was not very often left last to take the key home—sometimes for four or six months I have not had the key—I don't know how many times I have had it—sometimes I left at half-past six or seven, sometimes late—generally we all left together, but not always—I only had the key once in the last four or six months—I cannot say when that was—T don't know the date of my discharge—for about six months before my discharge in March I had only had the key once; I cannot say in what month I then had the key; I was not the last person on the premises, to take the key once a week, I swear that—every day I was the only person on the premises in the dinner-hour—sometimes, but very seldom, Goatly would have his dinner there, but the rule was that every day I was left for the dinner-hour—Goatly and Slade would go out between one and two, and be away for half an hour or more sometimes—it might have been a little more than an hour sometimes; sometimes I would have the key once a week, and then not for a long time—I do not know when my brothers left home, or why they left; they never came home again, but' I have seen them two or three times since—my sister told me where they lived—I live with my mother—I know Phelps; I never went to him with my two brothers, and never carried him ferrules
to sell—I heard his evidence before the Magistrate two weeks ago, but not here—I had not thirty gross of ferrules to sell; it is not true—on 20th March Mr. Wright asked me if I had heard anything of the robbery—I said, "No," and that Mr. Arbour had come and said that the goods were being sold about, and they had been to his place—I was not present when Goatly asked Arbour to allow a detective to be put in—Mr. Wright asked when it was—I said, "Some time ago"—he did not ask me whether I had anything to do with the robbery, but he did afterwards, and I said, "No"—he did not say, "You had better make a clean breast about it, and you can be called as a witness"—I saw Morgan on Saturday, the 21st, and perhaps half a dozen times—I knew he was a detective—I never heard that statements had been made that I supplied my brothers with the ferrules—I did not hear Mr. Barnett examined at Guildhall; I heard Mr. Phelps once—I never saw my brothers in company of Goatly or Slade; as far as I know, neither of them knew my brothers.
SARAH ANN GAVEBSTON . I am the wife of John Gaverston, of 83, Morland Street, City Road—at the end of last August Edward Rudman came to me about lodgings, and said he wanted his brother to stay with him two or three days, but the two stayed with me from August to November—they only had one room and one bed—Edward told me he had a firm in the City, and his business was umbrella handles, and he had a firm of his own in Birmingham, but they had failed—I saw nothing come in; I had my family to attend to, but I saw them take leather bags out and stick handles—they were in bed during the day, and rose about twelve, two, three, or four in the afternoon, and went out, and were out at night—they had a black bag, a box, and, I think, a carpet bag—Edward told me that during his holidays last year they had employed a fresh boy at the firm in the City, and he labelled the parcels wrong, and Edward Rudman had to relabel them—I saw some of' the parcels, but my sight is very bad, so I never looked to see what the letters were—I did not notice that they had been so re-labelled—they were always carrying out the same bag—I did not see them bring them in; they had a key each—they came in from nine at night to three or four a.m.—Edward asked me if letters came in the name of White to take care of them, but I saw none—Edward Rudman put a tip on my daughter's umbrella; this is the handle (produced)—a young man named Cartwright was there.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I have seen their brother John there too many times, Sundays and all nights—he came and ordered bread and butter, eggs, tea, and bacon, and never paid for them, nor did his brothers pay—he did not sleep there to my knowledge—it is not true that he only came three times, and asked for his brothers when they were not at home, and that he never entered my door; he has been down in my kitchen.
Cross-examined by Edward Rudman. Your brother carried the bag out, but you always carried something out—Tom Cartwright used to carry the bag—you were not always there when your brother came—John was there sometimes early in the morning before we were up.
By MR. FULTON. I have not seen John taking bags out—I never saw Goatly or Slade there, but they might have been there without my seeing them.
Schnider, a billiard-marker, of Fairbank Street, New North Road, and let rooms—in the first week in February I let a bedroom to Edward and Harry Rudman at 8s. a week—they sometimes got up at one o'clock, sometimes at three, and sometimes they laid in bed till 8 p.m.—they went out at night and came back at all hours, sometimes between 3 and 4 a.m.—I gave them two latch-keys—they brought in parcels of sticks, and bundles of umbrellas, and ferrules, handles and sticks with metal mountings, which were placed on the bed for a quarter or half an hour, and then taken away—I saw green paper on the sticks with names beginning with "W. and H."—I do not recollect what the names were—they took the umbrellas out of the brown paper with the green label, and put them into brown paper without a label, and as they passed downstairs Edward used to say, "Will you take those papers out or my room to be thrown away?"—the eldest one said that he had been in the fur line, and had not been successful, and had taken up the umbrella and stick line—I have seen them bring in and take out seven or eight parcels altogether—they left on March 21st—on the last day they were there I gave Edward notice to quit, and he told me there was a warrant out for him, and he expected to be arrested, and if he was caught he should get five or ten years, because he had been buying stolen, property, and did not know it was stolen, and he had had his beard shaved off so that nobody should know him—young Rudman was not present then—they both went off that night—Harry used to bring in the sticks, and Edward the ferrules.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. Other persons came to their room, but I did not always see them—the boy John generally came on Saturdays and Sundays, and waited a little time and went away again—they were at my place between five and six weeks from February to 23rd March, a very few days before they were taken in custody.
Cross-examined by Edward Rudman. A Mr. Murray brought a parcel once.
Cross-examined by Harry Rudman. I came up once and saw you doing a parcel up—I saw you bring in a bundle of sticks, and you have comedown and asked for a little whitening to clean them up.
ALBERT STAR . I am an umbrella dealer of 3 and 4, Hyde Park Corner; I have bought goods of Edward Rudman—about six weeks before Christmas ho showed me some metal stick handles done up in tissue paper and in a black bag—he said he had been selling a great many about London, and was recommended to me by my brother, who is in the same business—I asked him where they came from; he said, "From Birmingham," and I understood that he was the manufacturer—I bought 2 1/2 dozen at 18s. a dozen, and for these (others) 9s. all round—I did not take any receipt, and made no entry in my books.
J. L. WRIGHT (Re-examined.) These ferrules and sticks are our goods—I can help Mr. Fulton in making up the deficiency.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I have looked it up; the amount of ferrules sent up between April 1st and the end of the year was 428 gross, and the amount sold 225 gross; there ought to be 233 gross in stock, the deficiency is 91 gross—I do not know whether there were 112 at Christmas; this is Goatly's return—we sent up 781 gross of ferrules, sold 567, and the balance should be 274; stock made out 107; deficiency 137—Goutly's account readied us early in January, and we could have seen that
the stock was deficient by 91 gross; but we did not find it out till April—we knew enough to arouse our suspicion, and we wrote to Goatly, but did not say that there was a deficiency of 91 gross—early in February we telegraphed to Goatly to come down to Birmingham—I wrote several letters asking where the stock was gone, and what small quantities were being sold—I came up to London in March, when I came back from America, and told him so.
By the COURT. We sent up of size 5-7 1/2 816 gross; sold 575 gross; balance remaining 241; stock taken by Goatly, 192; deficiency, 49 gross; of size 9, 147 gross sent up; sold 105 gross; balance, 40 gross; stock at Christmas, 15 1/2 gross; deficiency, 24 1/2 gross; of size 9 1/4, sent up 150 gross; sold 100 1/2 gross; 49 1/2 gross balance; stock returned by Goatly, 39 gross; deficiency, 11 1/2 gross, and I have other deficiencies; there is 1/2-inch steel end ferrules 23 gross, and steel end ferrules 53 gross—that is all I have here.
By MR. FULTON. Goatly's remuneration was 2 1/2 per cent, commission and no salary—Slade got fifteen shillings a week and no commission—Goatly's commission came to £75, £80 or £85 between 1st April and March, but he has received more: he owes us money—I seriously suggest that I believed he had no other business, but he had another agency—we gave our sanction to two other agencies, Couffman and Ward, one for sticks and the other for ribs.
Re-examined. When we commenced sending goods to Goatly we made out a sheet of the goods we sent up; that was copied in a letterpress copybook—it was his duty to put them into stock, and keep a record of them; and when he sold goods he kept a record, and sent us a copy—when we received his sheet in January we accepted it as correct; but after we began to look into the matter we discovered irregularities, and sent for him—I was away in America in December and in the New Year—after I had seen him in Birmingham I prosecuted further inquiries, and came up on March 20th—I commenced taking stock on April 1st, according to his stock list, and subsequently I compared the sheet of goods remitted with the goods sold, and the result came out as I have told you.
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Police Inspector). On 7th April, about 7.30, I saw Edward Rudman at the City Police Office, Old Jewry, detained by Detective Austin—I said, "I am a police officer; you have been identified as a person who with another young man has sold a large quantity of umbrella furniture, the property of Messrs. Wright and Harrington, of Birmingham and 53, Aldermanbury; the property has been stolen from 53, Aldermanbury; you have been selling it in the name of White"—he said, "I have sold it, I bought it of a man named White, that is the reason I sold it in the name of White. I have sometimes got a profit from what I have sold, and other times I have sold it for less than what I gave for it. Why don't you take the people in custody who bought it of me? they knew the value, I did not; I think I can find White, I believe he lives in King's Square, Goswell Road; I think I shall find him at Brighton, he told me he was going there, as it was too warm for him to stop here "—I took him to Moor Lane Station and charged him with being-concerned with Goatly and Slade, in custody, and another person not in custody, in stealing and receiving a large quantity of umbrella furniture, value £500 and upwards, the property of Wright and Harrington—he said, "It is a lie to say I stole it "—the inspector asked his
address; he said, "I have no fixed address; I was turned out of 19 Fairbank Street about a week ago because I could not pay the rent"—in answer to a question, he said, "I do not know the other man who was with me"—I said, "Where did you sleep last night?"—he said, "I don't know; it was with a woman"—he was charged; nothing pertaining to the cheque was found on him—on April 8th I was with Detective Holmes in Goswell Road, and saw Harry Rudman; I said, "I am a police-officer; your brother is in custody charged with being concerned with two others in stealing a quantity of umbrella furniture"—he said, "Umbrella furniture? I don't know what you mean "—I said, "You have been present when your brother has sold quantities of ferrules and umbrella handles in the name of White"—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I said, "You were present when receipts were made out in the name of White; do you know Mr. Phelps?"—he said, "I have heard the name"—I took him to Mr. Wright, who was close by, and we went together to Moor Lane Police-station, where I confronted him with Phelps, and said to Phelps, "Do you know this man?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Is ha the young man who has been present with the other young man, when you have purchased umbrella fittings?"—he said, "Yes "—I said, "Has he been present when the receipts were made out in the name of White?"—he said, "Yes"—Harry Rudman said, "How can you say that, Mr. Phelps?"—he was then charged—on April 6th I took Goatly and Slade, at 109, Mildmay Grove, Mildmay Park; they occupied apartments there—I said, "I am a detective officer of the City Police; you must consider yourselves in custody on a charge of being concerned with others not in custody, in stealing and receiving large quantities of umbrella furniture, the property of Messrs. Wright and Harrington, of Birmingham and Aldermanbury, and you will have to accompany me to the station"—Slade said, "I can only say we are innocent of this matter"—Goatly made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. FULTON. I understood Slade was speaking for both.
Goatly and Slade received good characters.
Edward Rudman's Defence. The ferrules were given to me to sell last November by a friend of Mr. Phelps, who gave me the address where to go, and the money I took for the goods I brought to him in Phelps' company. My brother was not with me; he had nothing to do with it. I deny ever mentioning the name of Goatly or Slade. If Mr. Barnett was there so often, why did not he see me? Because I was never there. I never denied having the ferrules, but I deny having the quantity they say.
Harry Rudman's Defence. The evidence of Phelps is utterly false. I have only been in his company two or three times with my brother in a public-house. I have never been in his house at all. He bought large quantities of these ferrules much under cost price, and he is trying to get an innocent person into prison. I have never disposed of any goods or done business with anybody. I never mentioned Goatly or Slade to Phelps. I never knew their names till this case commenced; as to my being present when my brother wrote the receipt, I never mentioned anything of the kind, it has been made up since we have been in prison. I have been in prison five weeks, and know nothing whatever
about the charge. I have been brought into this mess through going to live with my brother.
Witness for Rudman's Defence.
EMILY RADFORD . I am the mother of the two Rudmans by my first marriage, and live in Compton Street, Goswell Road—my husband is a clerk—my business is swann trimming—Harry assisted me in my business and took out parcels for me, and he brought his dirty linen home and took clean away—those are the parcels Mrs. Schnider mentions.
GOATLY and SLADE— NOT GUILTY . EDWARD RUDMAN— GUILTY of receiving — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour, HARRY RUDMAN— GUILTY of receiving.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
435. EDWIN GEORGE PORTER (22) , Feloniously sending a letter to Charles Frank Sharman, threatening to accuse him of an indecent assault, with intent to extort money, without reasonable or probable cause,
MESSRS. BESLEY and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .—The JURY added that they believed the prisoner had just cause. The COURT disallowed the costs of the prosecution.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted and MR. OGLE Defended.
GEORGE ALLEN (Police Inspector K). On 16th February, about 9.15 p.m., I saw the prosecutrix in a van on Berry's Marsh, Barking—in consequence of what she said I went with Mason to 52, Marlborough Street, East Ham, but could not get in—the occupier of the adjoining house came home and let me in at the rear of the house, and shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner in Mason's custody, and I took him to the van, and the prosecutrix made this statement in his presence: "Me and my daughter and Henry Harris went to Berry's beer-house about ten o'clock on Saturday night, the 14th inst., and sat there till eleven; we had been shopping. Harris knocked my daughter down; she is his wife; she had the child in her arms. I went to stop it, and he knocked me down. Me and my daughter came home. About an hour afterwards Harris went up into the van and got a stick, and tried to hit me with it, and then threw it at me, and struck me in the back, and then he went to the barrow or van and got the soldering-iron, and threw it at me with all vengeance, and it stuck in my side. I was then standing on the ground between the vans. My daughter pulled it out, and. I then fell down; I am now in great pain"—the prisoner heard all that; I cautioned him, and he said, "When I came between the vans she said, 'Little Dog's-nose'. I said, 'Yes.' She had a broom-handle in her hand, and struck me with it on my head; her son, John Eastwood, was on top of me on the ground; young James Hedges pulled him off. As: I got up Johnny came after me again; my missus stood over me, so he
should not kick me in the head. As I was getting up I got this iron or whatever it was and threw it, I did not know what it was; I do not know whether it hit anybody or not. I put the iron in a corner of the van"—he was then taken to the station and charged.
Cross-examined. The soldering-iron has not been found—the prosecutrix is the prisoner's mother-in-law—they all live in vans—there are about seven vans—his wife and Johnny Eastwood were present.
JOHN EASTWOOD . I live in a van at Dartford, and wherever the van happens to be—on 14th February me and my mother, my sister, and the prisoner were near Barking, and we were going out shopping; we. went into Berry's beer-house and had three or four pots of ale between the lot of us—the prosecutrix offered the prisoner some of the beer; he said he did not want none, and struck my sister on the mouth; then my mother went to prevent him; he struck her with his hand, and she struck him back—we all left but the prisoner, and about half an hour afterwards he came to the vans and ran to his van or barrow, and got his soldering-iron, which is pointed, and threw it with all his vengeance at my mother; it struck her on her left side, and she fell down—my sister ran and pulled it out—I struggled with the prisoner and then ran for a doctor, and when I came back the prisoner was gone—I had had no quarrel with the prisoner; the only row was between him and his wife and the prosecutrix.
Cross-examined. This was in February, about eleven at night—I saw Johnny Hedges there, he did not pull me off the prisoner—I was not on top of the prisoner—the row began in the public-house, and went on afterwards—my mother had this broom-stick in her hand, not at the public-house, but at home—I did not hear her speak to the prisoner or to any one—I did not hear her call the prisoner "Little Dog's-nose"—it was quite dark—the van was five or six yards from where my mother was standing, and about half-a-mile from the public-house where we left the prisoner—I was seven or eight yards from him when he threw the soldering-iron—I saw it in his barrow before he threw it, and in his hand—only our own family were standing about—he said nothing when he threw it.
AVELIKEY EASTWOOD . I am the prosecutrix's daughter—I saw the prisoner throw a soldering-iron at my mother—it caught her in her side, and she fell—I pulled it out of her side; I could not do it with one hand, I had to use two.
Cross-examined. I was not at the public-house—the prisoner was very drunk; I did not hear him say anything—I 'did not hear him called "Little Dog's-nose—Jemmy Hedges was by the side of the van—I did not see him pull my brother Johnny off the prisoner—my mother had a broom handle in her hand, keeping him off, but she never struck him with it.
Re-examined. The iron had got no handle on it, and the part that had had the handle stuck into my mother; it was sharp—I saw my sister take it to the prisoner the next morning, and he took it.
AVELINEY EASTWOOD . I now live at Dartford—I did live in a van at Barking—on February 14 I was with my son and the prisoner and my daughter, his wife, drinking in a public-house at Barking, for about half an hour—the prisoner got up and began knocking his wife about—I asked him what he did it for—he said he would serve me the same—he attempted to strike me, but I hit him first—my son and daughter and I
left and went to the van, and in about half an hour I saw the prisoner go to his ran; he got a stick and beat me with it, and then he picked up a saucepan off the ground, threw it at me, and hit me on a shoulder with it; he then went to his barrow or his van and got a soldering-iron and threw it at me, and it stuck in my left side, I fell and my daughter came and pulled it out—Dr. Lee came to me.
Cross-examined. It was dark; I was about six or seven yards from him—we had been in two beer-houses, but we were not many minutes in one—we had two pots at Berry's, but I did not have much; Johnny Hedges was with us—we were all very excited with the, row—I saw my son Johnny tackle the prisoner in the beer-house; he did not get him down on the ground—I did not see Jemmy Hedges pull bun off.
Re-examined. I have not seen Hedges about the Court.
EDWARD SAMUEL LEE . I am a registered medical man, of Barking—on 15th February, about 11.30 p.m., I went to a ran in the New Road Barking, and found the prosecutrix suffering from a small punctured wound at the back of her left side—it was bleeding, and she was in a state of considerable collapse—it must have been made with a sharp instrument; it penetrated into her chest, and injured her lungs, and pneumonia supervened; she was in very great danger of her life for two months—she gave evidence at the Police-court on April 25, but in my opinion she was not able to go—she has not recovered yet—the wound could be inflicted with a soldering-iron.
THOMAS (Police Sergeant K). I took the prisoner 16th February at Marlborough Road, East Ham—I had to get in through the next house, and found him in the w.c—I asked what he was doing there; he said he went there to get out of the way—I told him I should take him in custody for violently assaulting his mother-in-law by throwing a soldering-iron at her—he said, "I am very sorry, I did not know it was a soldering-iron when I threw it at all; we had a row in Berry's beer-shop, and when we got home between the vans they started on their game; they got: me down and knocked me about; look at my face"—his face knocked about and he had a black eye—he is a tinker—I took him to Barking to hear the charge, and the prosecutrix made a statement—when he was charged at the station he made the same statement, and said they would, have killed him if it had not been for his wife.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Month, Hard Labour
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
HAKKY BRAHAM . I am an outfitter, of 230, East India Dock Road Poplar—on 20th April the prisoner came, and said he had signed in the steamship Otranto as steward, and produced this document (A bonus note for £3 10s.)—he selected clothing value £2 10s., and me to let him have a sovereign in cash—I did so—the goods were to be sent to the ship next morning at ten o'clock—he left and in looking down the shipping list in the evening something came to my knowledge, and I did not send the goods, but communicated with the police—on 30th April I identified the prisoner from several others at West Ham Police-court.
Cross-exam by the Prisoner. My father earned on the business
twenty-one years, and I have been there a year and a half—you told me you dealt at the shop in my father's time.
HENRY COOPER (Detective Sergeant). I am stationed at Canning Town—on 29th April I went to Cardiff and found the prisoner detained at the police-station—I said I was a police-officer, and should take him to London on a warrant—he said, "All right, sir, I will go with you; I am very sorry"—I found this bill on him (Identified by Mr. Braham) for Mr. Braham's goods.
Cross-examined. You were about to sign articles, but you were detained by the Cardiff police in consequence of a message from London.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he had lost £9, and was pressed for money; that he intended to repay the amount, and shipped on board another ship to enable him to do so.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY — Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. YOUNG Prosecuted, and MR. MOYSES Defended.
He received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Smith.
MR. MOORE Prosecuted, and MR. CLARKE WILLIAMS Defended.
MARTHA BARNES . I am the wife of William Barnes—on 13th March, a little after eight, I was at the corner of Baron's Place, Webber Street, and saw a brewer's dray coming from the Cut towards Blackfriars Road, the prisoner was driving—it was a two-wheeled van with one horse—it was going very fast—when it got to Baron's Place I turned my head and saw something go down in the road; I afterwards found it was the deceased, an old lady—she had a bottle in her hand, which went smash—I heard no screams or hallo—the prisoner drove on till he was stopped by Mr. Bowmer—I ran and picked up the deceased with Mr. Bowmer, sat her down, and bathed her forehead—there was a I amp opposite where this occurred, and some shops—the prisoner said he did not know he had done it; he did not see the old lady in the road.
Cross-examined. It is a dark corner—the smash of the bottle was the first thing that called my attention—the deceased had a bonnet on and a shawl round her shoulders, not round her head.
stopped the van about twenty yards from the spot, and then ran and picked up the woman—the first thing that drew my attention was hearing a tugging of the harness—I heard no shouting; the horse was going about four miles an hour when I stopped it—I did not see him before I came to the woman—he got down when I stopped him, and came to me and asked what he had done—I said, "You see what you have done," and I sent for a constable—I could not say anything as to his sobriety; I did not take any notice of him, I was so upset—I marked the spot where the accident occurred, and afterwards measured it; it was eleven feet from one kerb and fifteen from the other—it was a slippery, sloshy night, and the place was dark.
ALFRED WOOD (L 130). In consequence of a communication I went; into Webber Street, and found the deceased sitting down, having been run over—I got a cab and sent her to the hospital—I saw the prisoner; he was drunk—I charged him with being drunk and causing grievous bodily harm to the woman by running over her—he smelt of beer.
Cross-examined. He walked by himself, and led his horse part of the way to the station.
Cross-examined. He said before the Coroner that he had been out since six or seven in the morning; that he was coming jig-jog along Webber Street, when all of a sudden a man halloaed out—he is thick of speech.
The JURY here stopped the case, and found the prisoner NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ROCKINGHAM GILL Prosecuted, and MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
HARRY WHITFIELD COATES . I am second clerk to the Magistrates at the Southwark Police-court—on 10th March I was acting in that capacity before the Stipendiary Magistrate, Mr. Fenwick, on the hearing of a summons by Henry Thomas, an officer of the parish, against Maria and Caroline Grimsey, for selling to the defendant an article as coffee, containing seventy per cent, of chicory—the prisoner Duke was sworn and examined as a witness in support of the summons—I took notes of his evidence, which I produce. (Read: "I am assistant to Inspector Thomas. On 7th February I went to the defendant's shop and saw two. ladies there; I asked for two ounces of coffee, and paid threehalfpence for it; I received it in paper; I handed it as I received it to Inspector Thomas at the door. Nothing was said to me about its being an admixture. ")
Cross-examined. It was sold to me not as a mixture—I asked the young lady for the coffee; the old lady was there, but did not speak to me at all, she did not say that she had nothing but shilling mixture; I did not say I wanted something good for breakfast on Sunday morning—Inspector Thomas was the only other witness for the prosecution—he proved the result of the analysis, and receiving the sample from Duke before leaving the shop—for the defence. John Dawson, manager to the wholesale
dealer, and Caroline Grimsey, were called—the Magistrate, having heard these witnesses, convicted the defendants of the offence as alleged, and fined them £3, and 12s. 6d. costs.
Cross-examined. I am not sure whether Inspector Thomas proved that Duke was merely a messenger sent in by him to make the purchase while he remained outside; but that is the usual course—Maria Grimsey was present, Caroline was not—they were not represented—a label was produced by them to show that they had stamped this as a mixture—the Magistrate saw the label, and he heard the evidence of Caroline Grimsey—Mrs. Grimsey stated that she had stamped the label three times; notwithstanding that the Magistrate convicted—I do not know where that label is, I believe Inspector Thomas produced it, it has probably been destroyed—Mrs. Grimsey told Thomas that it was labelled.
CATHERINE GRIMSEY . I am the wife of Joseph Grimsey, of 100, Alderminster Road, Bermondsey—my daughters Caroline and Maria carry on business there as retail grocers—another daughter Mary Ann also lives there—neither I nor my husband have any interest in the business, I only assist my daughters, the business is theirs—it is a small shop with two counters; there is a parlour at the back, with a door leading into the shop—on Saturday evening, 7th February, the prisoner came in; there was no one in the shop when he came in, Maria stood at the door—the prisoner asked for half a pound of butter, a halfpennyworth of milk, and two ounces of coffee—I got up and told him that I had got no coffee in the shop, only a shilling mixture, which was chicory and coffee—he said, "Let me have two ounces of that then, missus; something good for Sunday morning's breakfast"—upon that I got the paper from the wall, took it in the parlour, and stamped it again with an indiarubber stamp on my hand; it had been already stamped—I then went into the shop with the piece of paper, and served him with the chicory and coffee, wrapped it in the paper, and gave it him; Maria served him with the other articles—he paid for them, put it in his bag, and went to the door and called Mr. Thomas, who walked into the shop; he told me what he wanted them for—I said I believed it was all right, and he took them from the prisoner and divided them in the usual way, in the prisoners presence—I told Mr. Thomas that my papers were stamped, and he left; he took part and left me part.
Cross-examined. My husband used to carry on this same business years ago—I sold this as a mixture, so I knew it was my duty to supply a label describing it as a mixture—my husband was convicted of selling a mixture for mustard—I have been mere careful since then—I stamped this a second time, because I would be certain he had got the right one—it had been already stamped, but not very clearly; it was stamped twice, and I stamped it a third time—the label did not state that there was seventy per cent, chicory in it; I did not tell him so—I sold it as chicory and coffee; he asked for coffee, I had none, we only keep the mixture, no berries—I called Mr. Thomas' attention to the label when he came in; I wanted to show that it was properly labelled, and to the Magistrate also—we did not appeal against the conviction.
Re-examined. My husband is a whip manufacturer—it was before my daughter had the business that he was convicted; it might be four or five years ago—he was not a grocer—I attended to the business—he was a. whip maker—then he came and helped me on Saturday evenings, and
he made a mistake and put it into the wrong box—he did not understand the business, and I did not know he had done it—I sold this mixture in the same condition that I bought it from the wholesale grocer—I did not know what amount of chicory was in it.
By the COURT. The cheapest coffee is fifteenpence or sixteenpence a pound to buy wholesale—the wholesale price of this mixture is ninepenoe a pound.
MARIA GRIMSEY . I carry on business as a grocer, at 100, Alder minster Road, with my sister Caroline—on Saturday evening, 7th February, the prisoner came into the shop—I did not know him; I was in the shop parlour; I came into the shop—he asked for half a pound of butter, a halfpennyworth of milk, and two ounces of coffee—I served him with the butter and milk—mother told him she had no shilling coffee in the place, only a mixture of chicory and coffee, which was a shilling a pound—he said, "Let me have two ounces of that; something good for Sunday morning's breakfast"—mother then served him with the mixture—I saw her take a paper from the wall—she took it into the parlour, returned, wrapped the mixture in it, and gave it to the prisoner—he went to the door, and came back with Mr. Thomas, and the articles were divided in the usual way—I afterwards received a summons to Southwark Policecourt, and attended there on 10th March, and I heard the prisoner give his evidence there.
Cross-examined. I have not got one of the labels here—mother has the stamp (produced)—we keep the labels 'on the wall, ready printed—I had never seen the prisoner before—he asked for coffee; we only had the mixture.
CAROLINE GRIMSEY . I was in the parlour when the prisoner came in; the door was open—I heard him say, "Let us have two ounces of shilling coffee for Sunday morning's breakfast"—he was told we had no shilling coffee in the shop; nothing but a mixture of chicory and coffee—I saw mother come into the parlour, and stamp the paper again on her hand.
Cross-examined. The prisoner asked for coffee, and mother said, "I have no coffee in the shop."
MARY ANN GRIMSEY . I was in the parlour when the prisoner came into the shop—he asked for half a pound of butter, a halfpennyworth of milk, and two ounces of coffee—mother told him she had no coffee in the shop; only a mixture which was chicory and coffee—he said, "Give me two ounces of that, missus; something good for Sunday morning's breakfast."
Cross-examined. I had no idea he was the inspector's man; I thought he was an ordinary customer; he did not ask for shilling coffee—I saw" mother stamp the paper in the parlour; there were three stamps on it.
MR. AVORY submitted that there was no case to go to the Jury; that the evidence upon which the perjury was assigned was not under the circumstances of this particular case material to the issues before the Magistrate, whose decision evidently proceeded upon the provisions of sec. 8 of the Sale of Food and Drugs Act; the fact that the label was supplied with the goods being admitted, the Magistrate must have found that the chicory was added fraudulently to increase the bulk, otherwise he could not have convicted, and in that view the conversation was immaterial.
MR. GILL contended that the real question was whether the purchaser was not prejudiced by obtaining an inferior article and the decision of the Magistrate must have been on that point.
The RECORER (after having been referred to the case of "Sandys v. Sindel, 3 Q.B. Div. 449," and "Horder v. Weddings, 44 J. P. 234," and "Liddiard v. Reece, 44 J. P. 233 ") held that the decisions in the latter cases applied, and that the evidence on which perjury was assigned was under the circumstances not material.
NOT GUILTY .
PATRICK EDGELY . I live at 46, Gurley Street, New Kent Road—I have a daughter named Annie Gertrude, who was six years old on Monday—she left home to go to school, six minutes' walk off, and at 10.30 I met a policeman with her outside my house—I do not know the prisoner.
OSWALD TREGURTHA . I produce a surgeon's certificate that James Smith is unable to travel; I saw him this morning, and he was utterly unconscious—I heard his deposition taken; it was read over before he sighed it. (Deposition read: "James Smith says: I was in Swann Street. I ran after the prisoner and stopped her with a little girl; she said, 'It is my niece; I am taking her to school. 'I said she must stop till the police came. She tried to get away ")—I was on duty in Swann Street on the morning of April 20th, and saw the prisoner walking beside the little girl, not leading her. I said, "Whose little child is that?"—she said, "It is my niece; I am taking her to school"—I said, "What school?"—she said, "Trinity School"—she was walking away from Trinity School, and was about three-quarters of a mile from the prosecutor's house—she was quite sober—she said that the child was her niece, and that she frequently worked for her mother—I took her to the station and told her I should detain her till inquiries were made—I met the father coming.
ELLEN PEARCE . I am married, and live at 48, Castle Street—on the morning of—the 20th I saw a man and woman and child standing there, and looking a little confused—I asked what was the matter—they were having high words—he said that the woman had taken the child, who was no relation to her—she said she was the child's aunt, and was taking her to school, and she worked for her mother—they were not near the Trinity Schools—a constable came up, the child told me where she lived, and I fetched her father.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry; drink has been the cause of it"
Prisoner's Defence. I did not do it with the intention of stealing the child, only of stealing the clothes.
GUILTY on the Third and Fourth Counts — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MESSRS. F. FULTON and A. GILL Prosecuted; MR. FRANCIS WATT Defended
Lorenzo Moreno and Domenico Moretti; MESSRS. ROCKINGHAM GILL and RAILTON Defended Rosini Moreno and Mary Moretti.
REV. GIOVANNI MICHAEL DRURY LONGINOTTO . I live at Alma Road, Windsor—on the 17th of March, about 4 p.m., Domenico Moretti called, and was shown into the dining-room—I went in to see him—he asked in Italian if I spoke Italian; we did not speak a word in English—he said, "I have come to see you about a boy I am anxious to have placed in a school; he is not my own, but the nephew of a friend of mine, who went over to America to attend his brothers deathbed, and received from his dying brother the boy and a certain sum of money for the boy's maintenance. He gave the strongest orders that the boy should be educated in England. Prior to coming to you I went down to Eton, hearing that Eton was an excellent school, but when I arrived there it was suggested to me that I should call upon you for advice; I therefore have come to get your assistance in this matter"—I said to him, "Is the boy not a Roman Catholic? I suppose for that reason you were sent to me, as I am so well-known at Eton, and you would consequently like the boy to be brought up in his own religion, and the religion of his parents"—he was utterly indifferent for a moment, and then said, "Oh! the uncle does not mind whether the boy is brought up a Catholic or Protestant, so long as a school may be found for him "—I said, "This is very remarkable; that neither you nor the uncle seems to consider the question of religion"—he shrugged his shoulders, and said, "Well, I will tell you the reason; of course it must be kept a strict secret: this child is an illegitimate child, and consequently you will know how impossible it would be to take this child to Italy to its friends; they do not of course know of its existence, moreover, the uncle is more or less of a dolt, stupid, and entirely in the hands of a very angry or irascible sister; she has for years thoroughly ill-treated him, giving him little or nothing for his hire (because he has worked for the sister as a labourer on the farm), and provided him with very little food. I am sure all this you will understand thoroughly; you know what farm life must be in Italy, and you will at once understand the difficulty of the case." I said, "What is it you want me to do? Why have you come to me?"—he again told me on account of the advice he had received from Eton—he did not pretend to have any idea of what sort of a place Eton was—I said, "Well, I do not know in which way I can help you"—he said, "Are there not some other excellent schools in the neighbourhood? "—I said, "There are"—he said, "Well, now the matter is very easy. I have not come to you to take this boy out of charity, because the uncle has received from the father of the boy quite sufficient money, not only for the boy's maintenance and education, but also to give him a start in life; this money the uncle will deposit with you "—I said, "Whatever he deposits with me I will place in the hands of my solicitors for the boy, and I hope I shall be able to arrange everything satisfactorily"—as he was going away it was arranged that Moreno should come down with Moretti to be introduced to me and to arrange the preliminaries on the following Thursday, 19th—on that day at noon Lorenzo Moreno, who
was said to be the uncle, and Domenico Moretti came, and at once set about the matter in hand—Moreno drew from his pocket a long thin brown paper parcel folded at the ends, opened it, and drew from the end a very large number of what he called 100 dollar notes; he showed me the top one, I did not look at the amount of it—I should say there were at least 50 or 100 notes; they were all the same, all notes; he did not pull them from the parcel; the only one he appeared really to use was the top one—I did not examine them—he also snowed me some two or three large golden American coins, ten-dollar pieces, I suppose—he said those notes gave him a great deal of anxiety, as he continually carried them about his person—on this occasion he carried them in an inside pocket of an inner coat—after refreshment he offered to put down for my housekeeper an English sovereign—I said, "I don't think you ought to do that," and I asked him to take it up again—he showed me innumerable coins of every description, French, English, American—Moretti spoke English on several occasions to my housekeeper in my presence at this visit—Moreno said nothing to me in English—neither spoke to me in English except jocular words, as though to show they were foreigners, and knew a word or two only of English—on Sunday, 22nd, Moretti came alone by an early train in order to attend the church service at eleven, he said; and he attended service at my church—after the service he went to my house and remained while I had breakfast—he spoke of the business almost entirely; he said, "I am glad to tell you that Moreno is perfectly satisfied," at the same time paying me several compliments, "and he is most anxious to hand over to your keeping the boy"—he partook of refreshment and went away after making an appointment with me in London on the Monday, 23rd—I had mentioned I had business in London on the Monday—he said he was staying at a hotel very near the station; he did not give me the name—he said, "That is very fortunate; I can meet you at Waterloo Station, and you can come with me to the hotel"—on the Monday he met me at Waterloo—I said, "Now, I have some business to do which must be done, and I should like the business settled as early as possible"—he said, "Oh, there will be no difficulty," and I went with him to Savage's Hotel, near the station, and there I found Moreno expecting us—he said he was not very well, and that he was just preparing to have breakfast in the dining-room, a very large room—they had breakfast, and asked me to have a cup of coffee—on a previous visit Moretti had spoken about some sort of security for the money—Moretti now said, Moreno would be glad to see some sort of sign that you are a man of substance, and that you would not profit by the money which is to be given to you for the boy, Moreno "(who was by at the time) "is a poor contadini, you know, a poor man who does not know the world; and although you have your bank-book and all that, yet he would like to seethe money"—this did not surprise me, because from my experience of Italians I know that this is exactly the way they would act; no Italian would trust another who had not or could not show more substance than himself—Moreno quite bore out the character of being a dolt, and scarcely spoke except to say he was suffering from indigestion and had a headache—I said that I must be about the business I had to do in town, and that they must either settle their business at once or I would return when my business was accomplished—Moretti offered to accompany me, and he did so
—we went to my solicitor's, he remaining outside, that I might draw out some money to pay certain bills and, at the same time, satisfy them that I had no other intention towards the boy but a good one—at the first or second visit it was said the money was to be deposited at my solicitor's, and whatever remained after the boy was twenty-one was to be transferred to the boy, who was not to know who he was or how he came into the world until he was twenty-one—the whole matter was to be left to myself and my solicitor to do the best for the boy—when Moretti accompanied me to my solicitor's I received there a cheque for £300, which I cashed at the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury branch, in sixty £5 Bank of England notes—Moretti asked me if I had got the money—I said, "Oh, yes; I must now. go off and make some purchases"—he said, "I want some money myself," and he produced from his pocket an American note, and asked me to go with him across the road to the Royal Exchange that he might change it into English money—he said, "This I received this morning from Moreno"—I went into the Exchange, but did not notice how much he received for the note; he told me he received £20 odd—we went to Shoolbred's, Tottenham Court Road, by the Underground Railway, where I purchased a large carpet for the church—afterwards we returned to the hotel, where I found Moreno, who appeared to be very anxious; he gave as a reason for not accompanying me that he was afraid to leave any money in the house, and was afraid of its loss, implying that there was other money upstairs in the house—refreshments had been ordered previously, of which we partook—after that Moretti suggested that the whole thing should be settled at once, as it would be necessary for them to go to Liverpool that evening to fetch the boy, as both he and Moretti wanted to get away to Italy as soon as possible—he said, "The boy will be brought to you to-morrow, and you can then arrange for his school"—I said, "I am satisfied with that arrangement, as I have already arranged about a school for him"—Moreno said to Moretti, "Oh, I will give him the money now; it will save the danger of carrying it to Liverpool and bringing it back again," and he said to me, "My friend Moretti, so anxious for the safety of this money, has purchased for me a strong iron box"—he went upstairs and returned with a Gladstone bag—he went to the further end of the room, which was a very large one—no one else was in the room—he unlocked the bag and took from it something rolled in brown paper—at that moment two people came into the room, and he said to Moretti and in Italian something to the effect, "What a nuisance"—they suggested we should go upstairs, and that the money should be handed over to me there in order that neither the strangers nor the people in the hotel should know that they were possessed of so much money, and that our business should not be overheard—we went upstairs—Moreno went inside what he told me was his bedroom—I followed him just inside the door—Moretti took up a position at the door-post, with one arm outside, and the greater part of his body just inside the door—I was nearer Moretti than Moreno—the bag was taken on to a bed or couch, and a steel box like this was taken out; it locks itself when the lid falls—he took this brown paper envelope and placed it inside the box, and closed the box; I cannot say if he allowed the lid to go right down or not, or whether he used a key afterwards, but he had a key in his hand—opening the
box again, he said, "Oh, how silly! Why have two cares? you have the care of your own money in your pocket, and you will have now the care of this money in the box; it is most probable that you will lose one or the other: look here, put your parcel in here on the top of this, and then we can lock it, and it will be so much easier for you to take charge of the box"—I at once acceded to his request, and gave into his hands the bundle of notes, which were in an ordinary bank envelope just as I had received them from the bank—he folded them, and put them on the top of his brown paper—at this moment either my attention was drawn by Moretti at the door, or something else happened, but in an instant the box was folded in brown paper and handed to me—my attention may have been distracted—I cannot say what happened at that moment; I was not two yards from Moreno, and nearer to Moretti—we were all standing in a line; the box was nearer Moreno on the bed or couch, and Moretti was standing nearer the door and nearer me—Moretti was speaking the whole time these proceedings were going on, so that I did not take so much notice of Moreno as I did of Moretti—my attention was distracted for a moment, and next moment I was handed a box very badly wrapped in very thin, brown paper—Moretti was at the door the whole time—these two boxes (produced) are exact fac-similes of each other—I cannot tell in which one the notes were placed; there are different designs round the sides, but otherwise they are identical; I noticed no difference till just now, when it was pointed out to me—when the box wrapped in brown paper was given to me it was very nearly the time for the 4.15 train from Waterloo, and Moreno and Moretti both went to the station to see me off—it was arranged that the boy was to be brought to me the following day, the 24th, by one of the prisoners, and then the box was to be opened in their presence, and if there was not sufficient money to enable me to do what I had promised, they would make it up to the amount, as they kept in Liverpool a large iron safe, which they brought from America, containing all their gold coins—they saw me off by the train; but something in their manner struck me, and I got out at Clapham Junction and went to a locksmith; who opened the box, and carefully folded at the bottom of it were two or three long packages—I examined them; they contained waste-paper, and there was nothing else in the box—the box that the prisoners had given me had not left my hands for an instant till it was examined by the locksmith in my presence, and I took out the parcels—I asked for the nearest police-station, rushed there, communicated with the police, who gave me the address of Sergeant Ward, and telegraphed to him—I then went to Savage's Hotel, and afterwards, with Brogan and Ward, to London Bridge railway station, about eight o'clock, and then to Cannon Street—I changed hats with one of the detectives, and went to examine the carriages of the train—in the first carriage I entered were all the prisoners—I placed my hands over the two male prisoners (I did not know who the female prisoners, who were sitting on the opposite side of the carriage, were) and screamed out, "Sergeant Ward, here they are!"—Ward was in the carriage in an instant, and as soon as he entered, Mary Moretti rushed out from behind me, screaming—Ward placed his head outside the carriage, and cried out to the man at the barrier, "Heigh! stop that woman!"—she was stopped and brought back to the carriage by Brogan
—I held the door to prevent any further escape—all the prisoners were taken into custody—Domenico and Mary Moretti, Ward and myself went in one cab to the station, and the Moreanos and Brogan in another cabin the cab, on the way, Domenico Moretti said in Italian, "I am very sorry it has happened; I wish you would show mercy to me; I have been led into this by others "—I asked him who the woman by his side was, and he said, "She is my wife"—I charged the prisoners at the station.
Cross-examined, I did not offer to take charge of the boy immediately after the money was mentioned; the offer came from Moretti—I said since they had the money to pay for schooling and maintenance of the boy there would be no difficulty, and they said, "Do you mind taking the responsibility?"; and I said I would—I am a Roman Catholic clergyman—nothing was said about showing the money at the first interview—I was willing with my solicitor to take the care of the child if the money was paid—I never heard of getting rid of an illegitimate child in this way before—the child was to be placed at school; to a certain extent the whole care of the child devolved on me, but he was to go to the uncle once every one or two years to stay with him during the holidays, so that there could be complete communication between them; he was to know nothing of his relatives except the uncle—on the second occasion I told Moretti that I should place their money in my solicitor's hands—I showed them bank-books then—until last night I had not the smallest notion that they understood English, but they understood figures, and I found out last night that they know English perfectly well—Italians in their dealings with one another do not trust one of less substance than themselves; the prisoners were not satisfied with the bank-book; they said, "That may mean anything," and I said I was going to draw money to pay bills, and it would serve the two purposes—when I came back to the hotel, having made my purchases, Moretti said, "Have you got the money?" and I took the envelope out of my pocket and showed them the money—I spent no portion of the £300 on the carpet; I had a £10 note and a few sovereigns apart from that—it struck me that the prisoners had a considerable sum of money when they showed me their coins—they seemed to have a great number of American notes; I did not take them into my hands, I only saw the top note, and it appeared to be for 100 dollars; I took no notice of the others, and though they appeared to be the same, I cannot swear that they were—I did not consult my solicitor about the matter, I only went to ask whether there would be any harm in my taking the boy under the circumstances—I showed them my notes immediately after we had refreshments, and put them back in my pocket, and they were not produced again till we went upstairs—I first saw the box upstairs in the bedroom; I only saw one box—it was not intended at first that my money should be put in one box and their money in another box—Moreno put my money in the box, which was immediately closed—it was not a very large room, but my attention was drawn by the conversation of both prisoners, who were in different directions—I do not know if the money was placed in the box; my impression is that it was; Moreno put two packages in, but the box was immediately closed—I paid no attention except to what was immediately before me—I was only five or ten minutes in the bedroom—they retained the key of.
the box—I had never seen before the paper I found in the box when the locksmith opened it; I do not know if that box was the same as the one I saw in the bedroom, but neither of the parcels in it was the same as the parcels that were put into the box in the bedroom.
Cross-examined by MR. B. GILL. I first saw the female prisoners in the railway carriage—I saw none of the prisoners at the hotel when I went there after the box was opened—the train the prisoners were in left Cannon Street at 8.20; we got there just in time—I found the prisoners in the first carriage I came to—the door was closed—the two male prisoners sat with their backs to the engine, and the females with their faces to it.
ROSE SHEPHERD . I assist my husband in the management of Savage's Hotel, 40 to 62, Waterloo Road—I know the male prisoners through their staying there in the names of Moretti and Moreno—on 21st March Moretti came and engaged two bedrooms on the second floor for himself and a friend, and on the next night, Sunday, he came with Moreno and stayed for the night—on the next day, Monday 23rd, I saw them with the prosecutor—after dinner, between 3.30 and 3.45, I saw them all go upstairs to the bedroom; they remained about ten minutes, and then all three went out together—about 4.15 both the male prisoners returned, got their luggage, and left the hotel, and I saw no more of them till they were in custody—Moretti spoke in very good broken English; he was quite intelligible, I could understand him quite well—they left none of their luggage behind.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. There was no occasion for me to exchange more than a few words with either of the prisoners,—and I did not do so—I noticed by the few words they said that they were foreigners—two police officers came to see me, and told me what they wanted to be proved—the prisoners told me when they paid their bill that they were not coming back.
THOMAS CHARLES CARTER . I am a clerk in the London and Westminster Bank, Lothbury branch—on Monday, 23rd March, the prosecutor came with a cheque for £300, drawn by a firm of solicitor?, which I cashed across the counter in sixty £5 Bank of England notes, numbered 71,465 to 71,524, dated 8th November, 1890.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. I recognise the prosecutor; I had a few minutes' conversation with him.
GEORGE CHARLES RUSSELL . I am in the employment of Messrs. Cook and Sons, the agents, of Ludgate Circus—on 23rd March Moretti came into the office about six p.m. alone—he asked me in English for some French money—I asked him the amount, and he said he should want 7,000 francs—I told him I had not got 7,000 francs, but that I could make it up for him to a level amount, about £200—I asked him if he could use Belgian notes—he said, "Yes," and I gave him Belgian and French notes to the equivalent of £200 English—I was going to make up the amount with the addition of some Swiss notes, but he said he could not use them—I gave him 4,700 francs in paper, including Belgian notes, fifteen napoleons, six five franc pieces, and £80 in English gold—that made £280 altogether, and he paid me in £5 Bank of England notes; these are twenty of them, numbered 71,501 to 71,520, 8th November, 1890—I gave them up at the Police-court, and they have been in custody of the Court ever since; the other notes were paid away during the day—we do not keep the numbers of
French notes—two of those I gave the prisoner were very torn, a 100 franc and a 50 franc—I should not have given him the 100 franc note, but he said it would not matter—these two torn notes are like those two I gave him.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. The police officers came the next day and asked if we had received some Bank of England notes of the following numbers; I looked in my till and found these twenty notes, I had no other £5 notes there—notes would be taken out of the till and put in the safe at night, and next morning they would be put in the till again—I was shown the two male prisoners at the outskirts of Southwark Police-court—I then made a mistake, and identified Moreno—I am quite sure now that it was Moretti who changed the notes—my memory has not been prompted by any policeman; I thought it over, and altered my opinion—a great many people pass through our office in the course of a day; this transaction lasted a quarter of an hour.
Cross-examined by MR. R. GILL. The exchange part of our business closes at 6.30, the rest of the business at 8.30—the prisoner came in about 6.15.
Re examined. I afterwards saw Moretti with a number of others—I thought at first Moreno was the man—when I saw them together in the dock I came to the conclusion that I had made a mistake, and that it was really Moretti—he spoke broken English.
GEORGE NASH . I am in the employment of Theophilus James George, an ironmonger, of 119, Falcen Road, Clapham Junction—on 23rd March, about 4.45, the prosecutor came with a box similar to this, and at his request I picked the lock—I saw him take out the contents, which consisted of two packages of brown paper—he opened them; there were strips of newspaper inside—I saw nothing else—he then asked the way to the police-station, and I directed him.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. I don't remember his saying why he wanted the box opened; I concluded he had lost the key.
ALFEED WARD (Detective Sergeant L). About five p.m. on 23rd March I received a telegram, and at seven I saw the prosecutor at Kennington Road Police-station—accompanied by Brogan we went to London Bridge, and then to Cannon Street—we reached there at 8.19; the doors of the 8.20 train were closed—in a second-class compartment we found the four prisoners; they were the sole occupants of the compartment—Mr. Longinotto identified the two male prisoners—I secured Moretti, and Brogan secured Moreno—I said to Moretti, "I am a police-officer; I want you for those notes that you stole this afternoon"—he shrugged his shoulders, and pulled out this pocket-book, and said, "That is all the notes I have got"—I opened it, and saw it contained notes; I examined it at the station; it has been in Inspector Payne's possession since—Moretti spoke a few words of English—Moreno spoke no English in my presence—I got an interpreter to explain the charge of stealing these notes by means of a trick—neither of them made any reply to the charge—the first thing I knew of Mary Moretti being connected with the male prisoners was her rushing out from the carriage—she is English—when she was brought back I said, "Let me have the money you have got on you; no doubt you are connected with these men"—she handed me a purse, which I found to contain £10 in English gold and two 100 franc notes, one of which is very much torn—at the station prior
to her being searched I said, "Have you got any more money on you?"—she said, "No, the only money I have got is what I gave you in the railway carriage"—Mrs. Barber, who searched her, subsequently gave me thirteen 100-franc notes—Rosini Moreno, who is an Italian, was asked through the interpreter if she had any money, as she was to be searched; she said, "No, I have no money"—I informed her through the interpreter that she would be stripped and searched—she put her hand in her breast and pulled out a bundle of notes, which were handed to Brogan.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. I went with Moretti and his wife in a cab to the station, and the other prisoners went in another cab; we were assisted by two City policemen—Moretti said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. E. GILL. I charged Mary Moretti in accordance with my duty; I was working on what I knew.
JOHN BROGAN (Police Sergeant L.) I was with the prosecutor and Ward at Cannon Street Station on the night of the 23rd, and when the prosecutor pointed out the male prisoners in a carriage I entered, and said to Moreno, "I am a police-officer, and I want-those stolen notes"—he said, "I have got no notes"—I said, "Turn out your pockets"—he then handed me this purse containing £20 in gold, fifteen napoleons, and some foreign silver—at that moment Mary Moretti hurried out of the carriage in a suspicious manner, followed by Rosini Moreno—I pulled Rosini back, and said, "You must stop here, as you are connected with those men in this robbery"—I said to Ward, "The other woman has gone away"—I followed and caught her as she was about to pass through the barrier, brought her back, and said to her, "I want those stolen notes"—she said, "I have got no notes"—I said, "Turn out your pockets"—she then handed me her purse containing £20 in gold and silver—I took them to the police-station—I searched Lorenzo, and found in his Test and trousers pockets a number of foreign notes, some of which were worthless; they are of the Confederate States of America—the one on the top is good and all the others are worthless—I searched this portmanteau that was in the railway carriage with them, and found in it the iron box produced; it locks itself.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. Both Ward and I spoke to the prisoners; we spoke together—I assumed they had stolen the notes; I felt confident of it after the prosecutor had said they were the men—I did not know at the time that the American notes were of no value; someone told me that afterwards—the iron box was opened at the station, and as far as I recollect there was nothing in it—each of the male prisoners had a ticket for Ostend.
Cross-examined by MR. R. GILL. Rosini was just stepping on to the platform when I pulled her back; she was looking in the direction of Mary—the female prisoners had no railway tickets.
EMILY BARBER . I am the wife of Charles Barber, ex-policeman, of 112, Surrey Lodge, Kennington Square, and I am the female searcher at Kennington Road Police-station—on the evening of 23rd March I searched the female prisoners—Mary Moretti said, "I have given up all I had"—I afterwards found on her these thirteen 100-franc notes secreted in the lining of her corset, not sewn in—I found no money on Rosini.
Cross-examined by MR. R. GILL. A small space of the lining of the corset
had been cut—all the notes were in one bundle; they were in the front part towards the left side—I don't think it would be necessary to remove the corset in order to put the notes where I found them—I found no railway ticket on either of them.
GEORGE PAYNE (Police Inspector L). I was in charge of the station when the prisoners were brought in—an interpreter was there; the prisoners made no reply to the charge—the officer who searched Moretti handed me £37 10s. in English gold, two 20 dollar pieces, two 10 dollar pieces, a purse, 3s. silver, a penny, six 100 franc pieces, four 50 franc pieces, ten 20 franc pieces, and a gold watch and other articles—Moreno handed me £20 gold, fifteen napoleons, two 5 franc pieces, 1s. 6d. silver, 1 1/2 d., and a bundle of fifty 100 dollar notes (one is of the United States and is genuine, and 49 are of the Confederate States and are of no use), five 20 franc notes, two 50 franc notes, and five 100 franc notes, and a railway pass to Ostend—I had handed to me, as having been found on Mary Moretti, a purse, £10 gold, fifteen 100 franc notes, 13s. 3 3/4 d., besides jewellery; and as having been found on Rosini Moreno, £22 gold, 20s. 6d. silver, 1s. 7 1/2 d. bronze, ten 100 franc notes, ten 50 franc notes, and jewellery—I saw this box in the Gladstone bag—it is the same as this other box exactly except for these marks—the keys that open the boxes were found on the prisoners—the total money found on all the prisoners comes to £325.
Cross-examined by MR. WATT. Moreno had a fold chain and silver watch, and Moretti a gold chain and watch and locket, and diamond pin.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am note inspector of the Bank of England—I produce thirty-eight £5 Bank of England notes, Nos. 71465 to 71479, and 71480 to 71500, and 71521 to 71524, all dated 8th November 1890, value in all £190.
Cross-examined, We got them from various banks.
GEORGE HARVEY (Police Inspector L). I searched the Morenos' room at 2, Hatfield Street, I Lambeth—among other things there I found in an unlocked box this certificate of marriage of Lorenzo and Rosini Moretti in 1889.
MR. FULTON admitted that upon the evidence there was no doubt that the women were the wives of the male prisoners. The COMMON SERJEANT considered it would not be safe to convict the female prisoners.
ROSINI MORENO and MARY MORETTI— NOT GUILTY . LORENZO MORENO and DOMENICO MORETTI— GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the male prisoners for a similar offence. The police stated that they had been concerned in a Urge number of similar frauds.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The COMMON SERJEANT commended the conduct of Ward and Brogan.
445. FRANK DAY (alias MIZEN ) (54) , To feloniously obtaining from William Pike a postal order for seven and sixpence, under and by virtue of a forged instrument, with intent to defraud; also to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences seven and sixpence and other sums from William Pike, with intent to defraud; also to a previous conviction in October, 1877, at Norwich.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude,
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
HENRY LUCE (V 446). On the night of the 9th April I was on duty, and my attention was called to 73, Falcon Road, Battersea, and I found that the scullery window at the rear of the premises which I had previously seen closed was open—I called up Mrs. Fenn, the housekeeper, and while speaking to her the prisoner sprang from the scullery window, came out through it, and ran across the road—I caught him and took him to the station—on the way he dropped this handkerchief, and this other one was found on him at the station—he was charged with burglary—he said there were two or three others with him—I saw no others.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The window could no the seen from the side door, but by stepping down two steps it could be seen—I saw you at the window, and you broke some flower-pots immediately under the window when you got out—I am sure you got out; I could see to the back of the premises when I aroused the housekeeper; I caught you in the yard—the Inspector was at the station when I took you there.
ANNA FENN . I am a housekeeper to Mr. George Coburn, outfitter, of 73, Falcon Road, Battersea—I was called up on this morning, and examined the scullery window and found it open—I had securely fastened it before I went to bed, and put the catch on it—these two handkerchiefs are mine—they were safe in the house the night before—I found this hat next morning; I know nothing about it; it was not in the kitchen when I went to bed.
Cross-examined., I saw you jumping over the wall just outside the door after you had escaped from the window—I did not see you in the house—I don't remember if I told the Magistrate I saw nothing of you that night—the policeman woke me at the side door; he could from there see what took place at the back by going down steps—I hemmed these handkerchiefs that night, and I know they are mine—there is a lodging-house separated from ours by a little road—ours is a shop and dwelling-house.
JOHN ATWOOD (Police Inspector V). On the morning of 10th April I examined these premises; I found marks on the catch of the scullery window, as if a knife or similar instrument had been inserted between the sashes, and so forced the catch back—the dresser drawers had been turned over—there were some matches on the table—there was free access to the shop in front, which is a large outfitter's—when the prisoner was charged with burglary he said, "It is quite right; there were three others besides me "—he had no hat or cap on when he was brought in; he was sober.
Cross-examined. You were pretending to be drunk and asleep at the station, but you knew perfectly well what you were doing and saying—I know you to be a convict, because you had reported yourself at my station—the police have not persecuted you—another inspector took the
charge; I did not—I did not find the hat that night; it was behind a curtain.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was passing the shop when the constable seized him; and that the handkerchiefs were hit own.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony in November, 1885. in the name of Michael Cuddy, at Winchester.— Twelve Months Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MAY 26TH, 1891.