CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 29TH, 1891.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
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OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
Held on Monday, June 29th, 1891, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. JOSEPH SAVORY, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., and the Hon. Sir ARTHUR CHARLES , Knt., two of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., Sir JAMES WHITEHEAD , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q. C., Recorder of the said City; STUART KNILL , Esq., GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., and ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
AUGUSTUS HENRY GLOSSOP HARRIS, Esq.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SAVORY, MAYOR. NINTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two starts (**) 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, June 29th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
(486) WILLIAM WOODLAND (21) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously receiving a ring and other articles, knowing them to be stolen, and to a conviction of felony at the Middlesex Sessions.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
FANNY BALL . I assist my father, a butcher, of 267, Brick Lane, Bethnal Green—on 29th May I was in the shop; the prisoner came in and asked for a saveloy, which came to a penny; he gave me a shilling in payment; I bent it in the tester, and said, "It is a bad one, and it is not the first you have given me"—he said nothing to that—I went in the parlour to my father and showed him the coin; he came into the shop and told the prisoner it was a bad one—the prisoner said nothing to that—about a month before I had received another shilling from the prisoner in payment of a piece of meat called a faggot, for a penny—I gave him the change, and he went away, and I put the coin on the top of the till by itself—I looked at it about a minute or two afterwards bent it in two, and put it on the fire, and it melted—this (produced) is the shilling I received on the 29th; the constable marked it in my presence.
Prisoner. I know nothing about the other coin; I was never in the shop before.
Witness. I am sure he is the person—when he came in on the 29th I recognised him at once.
THOMAS BALL . I am the father of the last witness—on the 29th my daughter came into the room at the back of the shop and showed me the coin; it was bad—I went into the shop and said to the prisoner, "This is a bad one, I have had some of them; I have been looking for
you"—he said, "No, I have never been in before"—I said, "I know you have"—my daughter had pointed him out to me in the street in passing—I detained him, sent for a constable, and gave him into custody.
CHARLES HALL (H 86). On 29th May I was called to Mr. Ball's shop, and took the prisoner into custody—I searched him in the shop, and found on him a good two-shilling piece—he said to Mr. Ball, "Give me another chance"—when charged at the station he made no reply—Miss Ball handed me this coin, and I marked it by cutting the Queen's eye out in her presence.
The prisoner, in his defence, alleged that he had received the shilling, with other coins, in exchange in selling newspapers, and that as to the other charge he was quite innocent.
MISS BALL (Re-examined). I heard the prisoner say to my father, "Give me another chance".
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour .
MR. STEPHENSON Prosecuted.
ALBERT PEARCE (Sergeant H). About ten p.m. on 2nd June I was standing in Brick Lane, Whitechapel Road, and I saw the prisoner and another man take a truck down Heneage Street and into a yard; to the best of my belief Read stopped outside while the other man took it in; I could not quite see—I kept observation on the yard, and saw the truck there next morning—about three p.m. on the 5th I saw the prisoner and a man named Edwards go down the yard—I and Detective Kendal, in plain clothes, went down the yard, and Read ran into the stable at the rear—Edwards did not run away; he threw down this pair of pincers and this nut—we took him into custody—he said, in the prisoner's hearing, "Here, take the little man in custody; lie employed me"; and he began to swear at the prisoner and abuse him, and said, "This is a nice thing you have got me into"—Read said nothing—I arrested Read, and we took them both to Commercial Street Station—I went back to the yard for the truck—outside the yard I saw a costermonger's barrow, and Sutton was standing at the back of the truck taking it to pieces; Sutton threw this nut towards the dung-pit, and dropped this screw wrench—he said certain things—Sutton was arrested; he and Edwards were discharged—I found a knife on the step of a brake by the side of the truck; none of the tools belonged to any person at the yard—I had seen the barrow before.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You were asked your address, and said you had no fixed abode, but had been sleeping in a lodging-house with your wife; you could not tell me where you had been working—I am quite certain you are the man I saw.
DAVID WILLIAMS . I am 19; I am a porter to Mr. Frederick Davison, of 9, Denman Street, London Bridge—this is my master's truck—on 2nd June, at a quarter-past five p.m., I left it outside Curtis and Whitworth's in Eastcheap—it then contained twelve one pound tins of soft soap, three
dozen quarter pound tins of Van Houten's cocoa, three dozen six pound tins of barley, nine pound kegs of mustard, and a four pound tin, of the value altogether of about £3—I came back about seventeen minutes past five, and the truck was gone, and the things that were in it—I next saw the truck at our warehouse on 6th—some nuts had been taken off it, from underneath, and the name was all scratched out.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he did not take the truck from Eastcheap, nor did he take it down the yard, hut that he was down the yard when he was arrested.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in March, 1889.— Nine Months' Hard Labour .
489. JAMES BURDEN (17), HENRY EPPY (17), and WILLIAM JOINER (16) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Hannah Gosling, and stealing two baskets and other articles. BURDEN— Four Months' Hard Labour . EPPY*— Six Months' Hard Labour .JOINER— One Day's Imprisonment
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 29th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
He received a good character.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
HARRIET SHELLCOCK . I am manageress of the Spread Eagle Bread Company, Gracechurch Street—on 17th June I served the prisoner with threepennyworth of cake—he offered me this Hanover coin, with the Queen's head uppermost—I said, "Who gave this to you?"—he said, "Mrs. Lake"—I passed it to the proprietor.
HENRY MILLS . I trade as the Spread Eagle Bread Company, 83, Gracechurch Street—the last witness handed me this coin, and I said to the prisoner, "Where did you get this from?"—he said his aunt at Erith, Mrs. Lake, gave it to him—I took him to my other premises, and asked him to show me what he had in his pockets; he pulled out his purse, in which there were two ten-shilling postal orders—I gave him in custody, with the coin.
ALEXANDER YOUNG (818 City). I was called and took the prisoner—I said, "Where did you get the coin from?"—he said, "From my aunt, at Erith, to go for a holiday"—I said, Have you any more?"—he said, "No"—I took him to the station; and found two other coins concealed in the lining of his trousers, at the bottom, not wrapped in anything—I also found on him a purse with two postal orders for ten shillings each, a sixpence, and six pence—he said, "I have told you the truth; I have
changed these coins for two postal orders; I got them from my master's place, where they used them for playing at cards."
ALICE WILKS . I am a clerk at the Post Office, 43, Fleet Street—on 17th June, about nine a.m., I issued these two postal orders—I cannot recognise the person, but I took one coin for them, which I took to be a sovereign, and put it into the till—a communication was made to me—I searched the till, found this medal, and gave it to a policeman.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—these coins are only card counters; they were originally struck on the Queen's accession, to commemorate the separation from Hanover according to the Salic law.
The Prisoner called
FREDERICK SUTCHIN . I am a retired builder—the prisoner was in my employ as page for eighteen months—he was trusted to clean the silver, and none was missed—on 17th June he absconded in the early morning, and left a basket of silver in his bedroom untouched—I do not understand what he left for.
Cross-examined. We use similar counters to these for cards; we have not missed any, but they have not been counted—this seems to me to be more of a lark than anything else.
NOT GUILTY .
(For cases tried in Old Court, Tuesday, see Surrey Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 30th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
LOUIS GARTZ (Interpreted). I live at 1, Ossington Street, St. Pancras, and am a hairdresser—at twenty minutes to 6 p.m. on 18th May I was going through Friars Passage, Euston Road, when I met the two prisoners—Singleton struck me with his fist in the chest, and I fell against the wall and became partly unconscious—Gowlett tore at my watch and chain, and ran away with them—I gave chase after a few minutes—I did not catch them—a constable came to me, and I went to the station with him—I gave a description there—the same night at 11 o'clock I picked out Singleton at the station from eight others—the next day about dinnertime I saw Gowlett at the station, and picked him out from others—I am quite certain they are the two men.
Cross-examined by Singleton. I went after you in less than ten minutes—I recognised you at once—I only went up and down the row once or twice, to be quite certain—I cannot speak English—my principal interpreted for me at the Police-station and Police-court—I did not say at the station, "There is no one here who stole my watch and chain"—I did not speak to the detective in the yard—I was there with him.
Cross-examined by Gowlett. I saw you at the time, and am quite certain of you—you had no hat or cap when you snatched my watch.
a description of the two prisoners—I went into the Globe with another officer, and told Singleton I should arrest him on suspicion of stealing a watch and chain with another man, from a man in Friars Passage—he said, "I don't know where I have been; I have been drunk all day"—he was sober—he was placed with others at the station, and the prosecutor identified him as the man that struck him first—between half-past 3 and 4 p.m. on the following day I arrested Gowlett in the Globe, and told him the charge—he said he was drunk yesterday—he said, "If I had it I must have dropped it, as I don't know what I did with it; if I had a watch and chain I should not know what to do with it"—he was placed amongst others and identified.
Cross-examined by Singleton. You were placed among seven or eight others of near about your own height—you were not the only one with a scarf on—the prosecutor walked up and down the row, but not five or six times—the inspector asked him to touch the man who stole his watch, and he said, "Not the one that stole my watch, but the one that struck me," as well as he could make us understand.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Singleton says: "I am innocent of it; I know nothing about the affair. I wish you would settle the affair here. "Gowlett says: "I am innocent of it. "
The prisoners, in their defence, denied any knowledge of the matter.
GUILTY.—SINGLETON**†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. GOWLETT— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SYDENHAM JONES Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
JAMES DEAN . I am a member of the firm of Dean and Winfield, cork manufacturers, at Dunstan Street, Kingsland Road—on 12th or 13th May our place was broken open, and we missed between six and seven shillings, and a cheque-book containing seventy-three blank cheques, I think—I gave information to the police and the bank—about 19th I received information from the bank with respect to this cheque drawn in our firm's name, shown me by Detective Buckle—it is a forgery; it is not my signature—this other cheque for £17 12s. 6d., purporting to be drawn in the name of our firm, in favour of Messrs. Charles Baker and Son, was shown to me on 25th; it is also a forgery.
ALFRED THOMAS MUSGRAVE . I am cashier to the Shoreditch branch of the London and County Bank—on 25th May this cheque for £17 12s. 6d. was handed to me by the prisoner—I knew the genuine signature very well, and should not have paid it, and took it to the manager—the prisoner was taken into the manager's room.
Cross-examined. I suspected the cheque at once when it was handed to me, and went to the manager with it, leaving the prisoner standing at the counter—I came back in less than five or ten minutes; I found him where I had left him, and asked him to walk into the manager's room; he walked there on one side of the counter and I on the other.
JAMES ROBERT ANNING . I am manager of the Shoreditch branch of the London and County Bank—on 25th May Mr. Musgrave brought me this cheque—the prisoner was called into my room, and I said, “Who do you come from?"—he said, "Charles Baker and Son"—I said, "Who are they?"—he said, "Provision dealers in Finsbury Market"—
I said, "I thought Finsbury Market was pulled down, and that Waterlow's were there"—he said, "Not altogether; there are some houses there"—I looked at the directory and could not find the name—he said, "There is nothing wrong about the cheque, is there?"—I said, "There is something very wrong; not only is the cheque forged, but the book from which it was taken has been stolen. What made you tell me you came from Charles Baker and Son?"—he said, "Oh, I don't come from them; I took it from a man at the Horns, who asked me to present it for him"—the Horns is a public-house close by Shoreditch Church—he said he did not know the man, he had met him casually that morning, and he did it as an act of kindness—I. said, "Then you ought to help us to find him. Will you sit down, as I have sent for the drawer?"—I had sent a clerk to the drawer, and in a short time Mr. Winfield came—I asked the prisoner his name, and he put it down, "Joseph Marshall, dealer;" he said he lived at 28, Kingsland Road, near the gate, at the top; there used to be a gate there—I said, "There you are wrong, because I know how the numbers run; 28 is at this end of Kingsland Road"—he said, "I don't mean in the main road, but in a turning out of it"—I said, "Near the canal or near the warehouse, or where?"—he said, "Near the canal"—I said, "Is it Ware Street?"—he said, "Yes, it is down Ware Street, 28, Louisa Street"—I handed the prisoner over to Winfield, who left with him with the intention of going to find the other man at the Horns.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said he had been drinking with the man at the Horns for about an hour—he did not ask me to send some one to the Horns to find the man—when I told him I had sent for Mr. Winfield he expressed a willingness to go with Mr. Winfield to find the man—the prisoner was in conversation with me for about ten minutes before Mr. Winfield came.
Re-examined. The address of Baker was incorrect—I don't know if 28, Louisa Street was incorrect.
JAMES WINFIELD . I am a member of the firm of Dean and Winfield—I did not draw this cheque; it is an imitation of my signature; it is a forgery; it is drawn in favour of Messrs. Charles Baker and Son—this other cheque is a forgery—about noon, on 25th May, I saw at the bank the prisoner and Mr. Anning, and was shown the cheque—Mr. Anning told me what had occurred, and asked me if I knew anything about the cheque—I said it was an imitation of the way I signed for my firm; it and this other were cheques out of a stolen cheque-book—Mr. Anning said I had better take the matter in hand, and I said I had better see Sergeant Joyce about it because he had the matter in hand—I took a cab outside and said, "We will go and see Joyce about this"—the prisoner said, "It is a very little way, we can walk there in a minute or two"—I suppose he was referring to the Horns—I told the cabman to drive to the Dalston police-station—on the way I asked the prisoner if he lived in the neighbourhood—he said, "Yes, I live in Ware Street"—he was detained by an officer and subsequently charged.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before—the forged cheque is an imitation of my genuine handwriting—I heard the prisoner say a man at the Horns asked him to present the cheque—he knew I meant the policeman when I said Joyce—the prisoner suggested in the manager's room that I should go to the Horns—he said he got the cheque at
the Horns, and that he would be willing to do anything he could to trace the man—afterwards he said it was only a few minutes' walk.
JAMES BUCKLE (Detective Sergeant K). About twelve o'clock on 25th May I received the prisoner into custody—I asked his name and address; he told me he was Joseph Marshall, and lived at 28, Louisa Street, Kingsland Road—I told him he had been found in possession of a stolen cheque, and would be detained while I made inquiries about him—I went to Louisa Street, and found there were only fifteen houses in the street—I made inquiries in the neighbourhood, but was not able to find anything about the prisoner—I did not go to Ware Street; he did not give me that address—I charged him with warehouse-breaking.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent of the charge."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SYDENHAM JONES offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY ,
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
HENRY PHILIP THOMPSON . I am an engineer, living at 2, Lawn Road, Hampstead—on Sunday night, 31st May, I was riding outside a tramcar from King's Cross to Hampstead, about half-past eight or a quarter to nine p.m.—I saw the prisoners and two others there, and entered into conversation with all of them—we all five got off together and had some drink at a public-house on my invitation—then I went at their invitation to see some friends of theirs—we had refreshment there, and some singing—then we went to the Wheatsheaf; I had soda there—I left there, thinking I was going home—I was not very drunk—I don't remember which way I went, I don't know the district very well—I knew what was happening perfectly well—I was walking with a man who told me he was an old soldier, and the two prisoners and the old soldier's wife were walking behind me—suddenly I was struck, how or where I don't know; I was knocked down, and felt someone pulling at my watch and chain, and I jumped up and looked round to see who had got it, and I shouted, "My watch is gone"—I got up and saw Harriet Volger and the other two people, not the prisoner; I said, "One of you has got my watch, I don't know which"—they said many things; I don't know what—I missed Henry Volger, and said, "I expect he has got it"—I charged the three persons, and they were taken to the station—I said, "I was in company with these people, and one man has runaway, and they have taken my watch"—I remember looking at my watch in their friend's house, and I remember holding it out and putting it back—they were all in the room at the time; my coat was unbuttoned.
Cross-examined by Henry Volger. After we left the public-house I did not stop back with your wife; I was walking with the old soldier in front, you were behind with the two men—you did not ask me the meaning of it, and I did not hit you on the head with an umbrella—I had no umbrella—I did not ask your wife to hold up the umbrella as we walked
along—I had not got the landlady's umbrella—you did not ask me to go away, and call me a scoundrel—I was not going to strike your wife; the landlord did not take his coat off and say, "Don't hit the woman, hit a man"—I did not run off and fall down, nor did you and the landlord pick me up—nothing of the sort happened—I did not after that say my watch was gone; my chain was not then hanging down—you and the landlord did not ask me to search you; you ran away—you asked me to go and see your friends; I did not want to go—I did not carry on with a young lady at your friends, and disgrace her—I did not play the piano, nor did you tell me to come home.
Cross-examined by Harriet Volger. I did not attempt to strike you with a stick in the road—I did not nearly break the landlady's umbrella—I had a stick—I was not so drunk that I tumbled down in the middle of the square; a crowd did not get hold of me, nor was that where I lost my watch—there is not the slightest foundation for those suggestions.
MARY ANN JOHNSON . I am the wife of William Frederick Johnson, and live at 8, Lambel Street, Camden Town—on Sunday night, 31st May, I heard some people making a row in Lambel Street, close to my door—I went up and saw the prisoners, the prosecutor, and others—I heard Henry Volger say to the prosecutor, "You tried to take liberties with my wife," and he made a rush at him, and then he went away—Mrs. Volger said to the prosecutor, "You owe me 5s., and I have got your watch; when you give me the 5s. I will give you the watch"—three policemen came up and took the prisoners into custody—the prosecutor had a mark on his hat and forehead, as if he had been knocked down or something—my husband came out after me—I did not know the two prisoners.
Cross-examined by Henry Volger. I did not say to the Magistrate that I was looking out at the window when I saw the crowd and heard your wife speak; I was standing at my door.
By the COURT. When Mrs. Volger said, "You owe me 5s., and I have your watch," the prosecutor said nothing—both prisoners were standing together when it was said—she did not say what he owed her 5s. for—that was before the policemen came—I did not notice if he appeared worse for liquor—we went to the station with the prisoners; they were charged there.
WILLIAM JOHNSON . I am a carpenter, at 8, Lambel Street—on this night I was at my door; I heard a row in the street, went out, and saw the prisoners, the prosecutor, and two other people—the prosecutor had just got up off the ground, and I said to him, "What is the matter?" and he said, "I was knocked down, and I have lost my watch"—nothing was said to that; the prisoners were rowing and quarrelling and excited, and they walked away quarrelling into another street, and stopped there with the crowd till the police came; the prosecutor was asking for his watch—the police took the woman into custody; the male prisoner had gone away when they came—I went with them to the station.
Cross-examined by Henry Volger. I did not hear you offer to be searched.
ARTHUR GEDGE (Y 257). I was called at half-past eleven on this night, and saw the prosecutor with a crowd round him—he gave the female prisoner into custody—I did not see the male prisoner there then—I charged the woman with being concerned in stealing the watch and chain which the prosecutor said he had lost—on the way to the station
she said, "I know nothing about it; we were all on the tram together"—much later on I was in the station when the male prisoner came in and asked for his wife; another officer then charged him.
SYLVESTER MANN (Y 516). I was called to this disturbance, and took to the station one of the persons who was afterwards discharged—at half-past one a.m. Henry Volger voluntarily came to the station, and the prosecutor then charged him with stealing his watch—he said, "I know nothing about your watch; I have come to see what my wife is locked up for; I ran away because I was afraid of being locked up myself"—the prosecutor had been drinking, but he knew perfectly well what he was about—the prisoners had been drinking a little, but knew perfectly well what they were doing—no money was found on the male prisoner—on his collar were blood stains—the prisoner said he had cut his hand—the prosecutor had an awful black eye, and he had a wound.
CHARLES CALLAGHAN . I am the landlord of the Wheatsheaf, forty or fifty yards from Lambel Street—on this day the prosecutor came into my house with the prisoners and two other persons—he was a little the worse for liquor and was sick—they had drink—I did not see the prosecutor or the male prisoner, the lights were out, and I was just closing when they came in, and they stood back—another person called my attention to the prosecutor, who was sick, and I asked him to go outside—the prisoners were quite sober.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
OLIVER WESTLAKE . I am a blind maker, at 127, Great Carter Street, Camden Town—up to the 30th May the prisoner was in my employment—on 1st June I went to his house, and was shown this blind tape, of the value of about 13s. or 14s., which has been part of my stock; there is no doubt about it—he had no authority to take it away; I was surprised to see it there—he might have bought it from my manager, who is here, but from no one else.
Cross-examined. I did not see you take anything from my premises—this is my material.
By the COURT. I went to call him to work, and I found the police had been there searching the place, and I saw this material—it had come from Scotland direct to my place; I know it.
Cross-examined. I never saw you take anything from the shop—I am sure the material belongs to us.
Cross-examined. This material was not made up into a bed sewn by hand, I can swear—there were two pillows made of material similar to this—I saw it the same night that you were locked up—there is no sewing here—Mr. Westlake brought it to the Police-court afterwards.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that three years ago on his way from America he bought this material.
HENRY VOLGER— Nine Months Hard Labour on the first indictment, and Six Months' Hard Labour on the second. HARRIET VOLGER— Four Months' Hard Labour .
500. ALFRED WILSON (38) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Emily Churchill, and stealing two pairs of boots and other articles; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Wallace, with intent to steal; also to a conviction of felony in October, 1888, in the name of Alfred Wallace.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
502. FREDERICK WALTER WHETHAM (30) , To uttering a forged order for the payment of money; also to stealing a bracelet, the goods of James Lawrence Costiglione; also to obtaining by false pretences from Edwin Nicholls, £16 10s., with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
503. ARTHUR MASON WAUD (21) , To forging and uttering an endorsement on an order for the payment of £2 3s. 6d., and to two other indictments for forging and uttering endorsements.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour. And
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, June 30th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
JOSEPH WILLIAM FORD . I am a dentist, of 29, Green Street, Bethnal Green, and keep a surgery—the prisoner came in for a seidiitz powder, price twopence, and laid a florin on the counter; I gave her 1s. 10d. change, and she hurriedly left—I then took up the florin, tested it, and found it was bad—I went after her, overtook her, and said she had given me a bad florin—she said that was all the money she had, and she would come back with me—she walked back, and turned her purse out, which contained 1s. 10d. and one penny, which I gave her back—she wanted the florin back, but I bent it and gave it to the constable—I did not charge her, because I did not want to lose the time.
Cross-examined. She left the shop as I was taking the florin up—I noticed that it was light—she had a very heavy veil, and came in rather a suspicious way—I was about preparing the powder, and she said, "I am in a hurry; have you not one ready?"—I said, "It will not take a minute to make a twopenny one up"—I heard her say she got
the florin from a pawnshop, but she afterwards contradicted herself, and said she got it in change at Kingsland.
Re-examined. She left the shop hurriedly, and got 300 or 400 yards away.
STEPHEN JORDAN (F 115). Mr. Ford's son called me to the surgery, and the prisoner was charged with uttering a counterfeit florin—she said she got it from a pawnbroker, but afterwards she said she got a half-crown from a pawnbroker, and changed it at a shop in Kingsland Road—Mr. Ford gave me this florin, but declined to charge her, and she was let go.
Cross-examined. I took her to the station—she gave me a correct address.
GRIFFIN TURTON . I keep the Tile Kiln Tavern, Tuileries Street, Shore-ditch—on June 9th, about 8 p.m., my wife served the prisoner with half a pint of beer, which came to three halfpence—she put a shilling on the counter—my wife handed it to me and said, "What do you think of that?"—I said, "It is a bad one," and told the prisoner I should detain her till she went and got a constable—she did not do that, but asked for the shilling back—I said, "No," and sent for a constable, and gave it to him—she said she got it in change for a half-crown a few days back.
Cross-examined. She said that both before and after the constable came—I did not hear her say she got it at the Cornwallis; that is about a third of a mile off.
ABRAHAM SMITH (H 428). The potman called me, and Mr. Ford showed me this bad shilling, and said that the prisoner tendered it—she said, "It is a portion of the change I had out of a half-sovereign last Friday night"—I said, "Where?"—she made no reply—the female searcher found two shillings on her.
Cross-examined. She said nothing about the Cornwallis—she did not say at the Police-court, "Did not I say I got it at the Cornwallis?"—she gave her address 66, Angrave Street; she is married, and has lived there two years; her husband was in the country, but I waited and saw him when he came home, and told him his wife was in custody—he said, "I have plenty of money, she need not do such a thing as that. "
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
LILY MARTIN . I am manager at the Belgrave Dairy, 2, Exhibition Road, Kensington—on Derby Day the prisoner came in for two eggs, price threepence, and gave me a half-crown; I noticed that it was bad, but being alone I gave him the change, and he left—I put it at the back of the till, apart from other coin—next morning I showed it to the manager, and did not see it again—on June 16th the prisoner came again, about the same time in the evening, for two eggs; I recognised him at once—he tendered another bad half-crown—I took it to the manager, and said in the prisoner's hearing, "This is the man who tendered me a bad half-crown on Derby Day; he has now given me another"—he made no answer—this is the second coin.
WILLIAM FREDERICK FOLLETT . I am manager of the Belgrave Dairy—on the morning after Derby Day Miss Martin showed me a half-crown—I tested it, found it was bad, threw it at the back of the safe, and have not seen it since—I tried it with my teeth; it felt greasy and very light—I did not try it in a tester—on 16th June Miss Martin came to me outside the shop with a half-crown in her hand—I went in and said to the man, "This is a bad half-crown"—he said he did not know it—when the policeman came Miss Martin said that the prisoner was the man who had been there before; he contradicted it.
WILLIAM PRICE (B 428). I was called on 16th June and found the prisoner detained at the Belgrave Dairy; Mr. Follett charged him with passing this bad half-crown—he said he was not aware it was bad—at the Police-station it was said that he was there on the Derby Day—I found on him two half-crowns, four pence, and a halfpenny, all good—he gave a correct address; he is a tailor.
Prisoner's Defence. I took the half-crown in change for a sovereign in the Brompton Road, and the woman told the manager it was bad. As regards the first coin, I never was in the shop before.
GUILTY**† on the first Count. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
507. HENRY PARKER (29) PLEADED GUILTY** to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry George Wedge, and stealing a coat and other articles, after a conviction at Newington, Surrey, on June 1st, 1885.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 1st, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. BODKIN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended at the request of the Court.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. NICHOLSON Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.
MARY ANN ASCOMB . I am now living at the Sewerage Works, Isleworth—on 8th May I was living at 2, Sidney Street, Gray's Inn Road, with the deceased, John Hackett Jones, as his wife—I had been living with him since 20th February last; I had known him some years; he was a carpenter and joiner; he and the prisoner worked together; they were not related—on the night of 8th May we left home at twenty minutes to ten, and went for a walk; on returning, we came down Euston Road; when we got to the corner of Belgrave Street we met the prisoner: he came out of Belgrave Street; he rushed up to the deceased, called him a b----swine, and deliberately thrust his umbrella into his face; I
screamed for a constable, and the prisoner ran away—the deceased merely snatched the umbrella out of the prisoner's hand; he did nothing to him—a constable came up and took the deceased to the Gray's Inn Road Hospital—the deceased handed the umbrella to me, and I gave it to the constable—I have known the prisoner between ten and eleven years; at one time I lived with him, and had three children by him; I left him five years next September; I had not seen or heard of him since until this occurrence—the deceased was quite well at the time this happened.
Cross-examined. As far as I know there was no ill-feeling between them—I could not say whether the prisoner was drunk or sober on this night, he ran away immediately it was done—I had not been drinking—the deceased only raised his hand to snatch the umbrella from the prisoner—the prisoner plunged it at him—I did not see the prisoner afterwards till I had issued the warrant—he never told me that he was exceedingly sorry, and that it was an accident.
By the COURT. I left the prisoner five years ago, and took the children, and have maintained them ever since—the only reason for this I can conclude was that the prisoner was angry with me for living with the deceased.
SAMUEL DAY (E 468). On the night of 8th May I was on duty in Euston Road; I heard a cry of "Police!" and went to the corner of Belgrave Street, where I saw the deceased and the last witness, no one else was there at the time—a complaint was made to me—the deceased was bleeding very much from the right eye; I took him to the Royal Free Hospital—the last witness handed me the umbrella—I examined it; I found blood on the point, and a very small piece of flesh—the deceased made a statement to me, as well as the last witness.
EDGAR TREVETHIC . I was house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital on 8th May, when the deceased was brought there—he had a wound of the lower eyelid, on the right side of the face, and he had apparently some injury to the eyeball itself; there was blood in it—he was then quite sensible—he became unconscious soon after, and so continued to the last—subsequently there were signs of cerebral irritation—on 11th May I found it necessary to extract the eyeball—in the course of that operation the nature of the injury was more fully disclosed—he died on May 16th—I then found that he had a hole in the bony roof of the orbit, that is the part of the skull which covers in the eye, the cavity in which the eye rests—on the eyeball being removed some part of the brain substance escaped through the hole in the bone—nothing more could be done, and the cause of death was injury to the brain, arising from some traumatic cause, from some violence of some sort—that was connected with the fracture—the wound was about half an inch square; the piece of bone was pushed backwards and so turned on a hinge, like a trapdoor, and so passed into the brain—such an umbrella as the one produced would cause such an injury, by the ferrule end—with the exception of some slight disease of the left lung the deceased was a healthy man.
Cross-examined. I found no evidence of his having been a hard drinker—a very slight stroke with a sharp weapon would be sufficient to destroy the eyeball; I do not call an umbrella a sharp weapon; a man swinging an umbrella about, and accidentally striking the eyeball, would be sufficient to account for the injury to the brain—I do not think it likely that the
injury would be caused by the deceased drawing the umbrella forward against himself in the attempt to wrench it from the prisoner; if he fell against the point it might, provided the other end was fixed—the wound was three inches in length from the corner of the eye inwards.
HENRY PARRY . I am a joiner, and live at 24, Rodney Residences, Rodney Street, Pentonville—I have known the prisoner about ten years—on the morning of 8th March, about a quarter past twelve I met him in Rodney Street; he asked me to have a drink at the Rodney's Head; I did so—he asked if I had heard that Jack had brought Jennie up to London and was living with her in the neighbourhood—I said I had—he said, "Is it not enough to make a man wild, to think he should bring her into this neighbourhood where she had lived with me previously?"—I said, "It is rather galling"—he said he should stick the b----b----to the heart yet—he was very excited and under the influence of drink—as I was parting with him he said, "You can tell Jack from me that I mean going for him"—I had known the deceased about the same time as the prisoner, about ten years.
Cross-examined. I did not attach any importance to what he said, I did not think he meant doing it—I knew he and the deceased had been friends until the last three or four years; I never had much to do with either of them.
DENNIS MORTIMER (Police-Sergeant E 51.) On 9th May I went to 223, Pentonville Road with a warrant to apprehend the prisoner—I found him in the first-floor front room; I was not able to get in, it was barred up—he admitted me after about ten minutes—I read the warrant to him I and cautioned him—he replied, "I struck Hackett with my umbrella"—at the station when charged, he said, "The man I hit was John Hackett Jones, not John Hackett. "
MR. KEITH FRITH applied to the COURT that the prisoner might he allowed to make his oxen statement to the JURY, he himself not proposing to address the JURY. The COURT having permitted this, the Prisoner in his address stated that on the day in question he accidentally met the deceased and Ascomb, and that he called to the deceased; that he paid no attention, and he thereupon struck him slightly on the shoulder to call his attention; that the deceased then turned round, seized the umbrella, which slipped from the handle, and pulled it right into his face, and then held it towards him as if to strike him, upon which he ran away, knowing nothing of the accident that had happened; he also stated that the evidence of Parry was untrue.
EDGAR TREVETHIC (Re-examined.) I can conceive it possible that the accident might have happened in the way the prisoner suggests; the prisoner being a shorter man than the deceased the umbrella would coincide with the direction of the wound—the handle of the umbrella is missing.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 1st, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SANDERS Prosecuted.
JOHN BRYANT (N 179). On June 5th about 4.30 a.m. I was on duty in Essex Road, and saw the prisoner with this parcel done up in a tablecloth under his coat—he saw me and turned and went in another direction—I ran another way and met him; he then had the bundle behind him—I caught him and asked what he had in the bundle; he said, An old shirt"—I said, "Is that all?"—he said, "No, a few other things—I asked how he became possessed of them; he said he got them out of Barnsbury Road—on the way to the station he said he got them out of Park Street—I examined the bundle at the station; it contained two shirts, a tablecloth, a sheet, and a lady's Ulster—I charged him with unlawful possession of the property—he said he found them under a hedge in Park Street—I said, "Which side from Upper Street?—he said, "On the right"—there is no hedge on the right—I had not heard of the burglary then.
ELIZABETH PEARCE . I am the wife of Benjamin Pearce, a cabdriver, of 63, Roman Road, Barnsbury—on 4th June I went to bed at eleven p.m., having locked up, and left everything safe—the next morning at seven I found the front kitchen window on the basement open—it had been closed, but had no fastening—the area gate was forced, open—various articles from a chest of drawers were strewn about the kitchen—an Ulster, sheet, some shirts and table-cloths were missing—they were worth £1 to me.
GEORGE DIXON (Inspector Y). About eight a.m. on 5th June I received information and went to Mr. Pearce's house—an entry had been made by forcing the area gate, passing down the area steps, and lifting the kitchen window—I communicated with Mrs. Pearce, and she identified the property.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "Going down Park Street this morning about 4.15 I saw, through the hedge of a garden, a parcel secreted under the flowers. I opened the gate and secured the parcel, and got as far as where the policeman saw me. I tried to get away, supposing the parcel to be of more value than what it was."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell on July 1st, 1884— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted: MR. PURCELL appeared for Lynch, and MR. BURNIE for Brennan.
CHARLES GASH . I am a clerk, and occupy two rooms on the second floor at 24, Liverpool Road, Islington—on Sunday, May 31, about 3.15 p.m., I left the house with no one in it—the door closes of itself when you pull it to; it is a lever lock—when I went out I saw the two prisoners standing at the Agricultural Hotel opposite—I returned at 10.10 p.m., rather earlier than usual, and when I got near the door I
heard the chain put up inside, and saw a light moving about—I rang the bell, and the door suddenly opened and the two prisoners ran out; Brennan struck at me with something he had in his hand—one man ran through Liverpool Road, and the other up Parkhill Street, which are opposite directions—nothing was missing, but a drawer was partly open and the street door latch was broken, and also a square of glass—I gave a description to the police, and about 2.30 on June 4th I went to Upper Street Police-station, saw Lynch with seven or eight others, and I identified him—I knew him by sight; he is generally at the corner—on June 8 I saw Brennan with seven or eight others, and identified him at once—I am quite sure these are the men.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I told the police I knew Lynch perfectly well, and yet they put him with a lot of strangers for me to pick him out—they did not walk leisurely out; they ran out as quickly as they could—I was on the pavement between the doorstep and the kerb.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. Brennan came out first—I had seen him before—there was a lamp on the opposite side at the public-house, and I could see his face.
ELIZABETH GASH . I am the wife of the last witness, and went out with him on this Sunday afternoon, and saw the two prisoners by the Agricultural Hotel—I knew them well by sight—we came back about 10.15—my husband tried to get in, and the two prisoners rushed out and one struck at him—I am quite certain the prisoners are the men—I picked Lynch out at the Police-station—I identified Brennan at once on the 8th.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I had seen Lynch many times before—my husband was on the pavement—there is only one tiny wooden step; you step from the door on to the pavement.
ALFRED DYKE (Detective N), On 4th June, about 12.30, I saw Lynch going into the Agricultural public-house with two females—I followed him in, and told him I was going to take him in custody on suspicion of breaking into 24, Liverpool Road, on Sunday night, at 10.30—he said, "All right, I will go with you; I can prove I was in bed at the time"—he was placed with eight others at the station; Mr. Gash came in and at once identified Lynch, and then Mrs. Gash came in and picked him out.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I have known Lynch seven or eight years, and know nothing against his honesty.
JAMES SMITH (Detective Sergeant N). On 8th June at ten p.m. I took Brennan near the Angel Hotel, and told him I should arrest him on suspicion of breaking into 24, Liverpool Road, and if identified he would be charged—he said "All right"—he refused his address.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There is a lad here named Michael who saw the two thieves run out of the house—I did not see him at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. Brennan said, "Don't handle me, I will go with you"—this was at the London end of the Liverpool Road, near the Angel.
GUILTY .—BEENNAN then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell on August 7th, 1888.— Five Years' Penal Servitude . LYNCH— Four Months' Hard Labour .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM LATTER (570 City). On 15th June, at 12.20 midnight, I was on duty in Clement's Lane and heard glass break; I went into King William Street and saw the two prisoners in the doorway of No. 79, Mr. Mowatt's shop—I went towards them and they ran up Nicholas Lane, the next turning—I caught them, and said, "Where is the cloth you have taken from that window which is broken?"—Selby said, "What cloth?"—I said, "The cloth you have taken from that window you have just broken"—he said, "I have got no cloth," and passed a piece of cloth behind his back to Boe—I took it from him, and took them both to the window and found a piece of cloth on the footway, and this card dummy, which the cloth had been rolled round—I got, assistance and took them to the station, and on Boe I found this stone. (produced)—he said he did not know what he was there for.
THOMAS WILLIAMS . I am clerk to Mr. Mowatt, a tailor, of 79, King William Street—when I went home at a quarter to five the windows were all shut—I swear to one of these pieces of cloth as Mr. Mowatt's, and we had some pieces like the other pieces.
Cross-examined by Selby. I saw the cloth in the shop during the day; I did not see it put in the window.
Boe's Defence. I had been at Hounslow in the day, and was rather late; I turned up Nicholas Lane, and the constable arrested me. I know nothing of the charge. GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour each,
MR. E. F. LEVER Prosecuted.
HARRY FINEHAM . I keep the Grove Tavern beer-house, Beauchamp Place—I live on the premises—on Tuesday, 9th June, about 12.30 a.m., I closed the house—it was safely looked up—I was awakened by the dog barking between two and three a.m.—I went to the landing and istened, and thinking the police had tried the door, as they do, I went back to bed—the following morning, about 7.15, the barman went down, then came, to me—I looked over the premises with the inspector, and missed a coat, jacket, stick, satchel, hairbrush, 400 cigars, box of cigarettes, some, plates, table-spoons, seven or eight penny postage stamps, and 11s. 6d. in bronze—I found 31s. 6d. in coppers—I saw the prisoner at Vine Street; he was wearing my coat—this is it—this cigar is of the same kind I lost the police showed me the cigar, five shillings worth of coppers, and these stamps.
Cross-examined. I keep three or four kinds of cigars.
WILLIAM AMBROSE . I am barman at the Grove Tavern—at 12.30 a.m., on 9th June, I locked up the premises and retired to sleep—I got up at 7.15—I found the cigar boxes empty, the till open, and the money gone—I went upstairs to the governor.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I never saw you till I saw you at the station.
ISAAC HUMPHREY (Detective C). About eleven a.m. on 9th June I was with Pollard and Keys at the Two Brewers—in consequence of a conversation we overheard in the next compartment I went outside—shortly afterwards the prisoner left in company with another man—I stopped the prisoner, and told him I was a police officer, and wanted to know what he had about him—he replied, "What the bleeding hell has that to do with you?"—he put his left hand in his left trousers pocket; I pulled it out, and put mine in, and found five shillings-worth of coppers in this paper—I asked if he could account for how he came in possession of them—he pointed to the Sussex Arms, Long Acre, and said, "I got them there this morning"—Pollard pulled this cigar from his breast pocket—I told him I should take him to the station for unlawful possession of the coppers—on the way to the station he pointed to a shop in Cranborne Street, and said, "That is where I bought the cigar this morning for twopence"—I took him to the station—I found on him two shillings and sixpence in silver, threepence in bronze, and three postage stamps—the prosecutor identified this as his coat, which the prisoner was wearing—the prisoner was wearing it when I arrested him—he gave his address at a common lodging-house in Charing Cross Road.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know you—you did not tell me you had been selling papers.
THOMAS KEYS (Detective C). I was present at the arrest—I saw the prisoner point to 19, Cranborne Street, where he said he got the cigar, and to the Sussex Arms, where he said he got the coppers—he said he sold newspapers—that was after he had passed the Sussex Arms—I made inquiries at the Sussex Arras and at the cigar-shop.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I searched for the man who was with you.
EDWIN POLLARD (Detective C). I was present at the prisoner's arrest—he put his hand to his waistcoat-pocket, and I saw the end of a cigar there, and I took it, and said, "Where did you get that cigar from?"—he said, "What the b----hell has that to do with you?"—on the way to the station he pointed to 19, Cranborne Street, and said, "That is where I bought that; I gave twopence for it this morning "—Keys made inquiries—I tried to serve a subpœna on the keeper of the shop, but she has gone to Ireland for a month's holiday.
MORRIS OSMAN . I am barman at the Two Brewers, Little St. Andrew's Street—about ten a.m. on 9th June the prisoner came with three men, and got change for two shillingsworth of coppers—the elderly man of the party offered to sell me 120 cigars—he gave me one—I smoked it.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The elderly man joined your company and then came into the next compartment to offer me the cigars—I never saw you in the house before—you all drank and talked together.
By the JURY. The cigars offered for sale wore the same kind as this one produced.
Road—the prisoner lodged there—he came in at 4 a.m. on Tuesday, 9th June, and went out about ten—on Monday he went out about 9 a.m.—I was there during that time.
Cross-examined. I saw no parcel with you when you came in.
WILLIAM KEMP (Police Inspector B). About 8 a.m. on 9th June, from information received, I went to the Grove Tavern—I found no marks on the doors or windows—access could be got from the fanlight over the front door—there was a fastening—cigar-boxes were open in the bar—the same day, about 1.30, I took the prosecutor to Vine Street station—he identified the coat the prisoner was wearing as his property—I said to the prisoner, "You hear what this man says?"—he made no reply—this cigar and the money and stamps produced were handed to me—I told the prisoner he would be charged with burglary—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he bought the coat for 5s. 6d. and his own coat, that the stamps were in it, and the man he bought it from came into the public-house to be treated; that he got the coppers by selling papers, and the cigars he bought at a shop.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. WARBURTON and ROCKINGHAM GILL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, July 1st, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
519. ARTHUR ROBERTS (26) , To stealing a case of surgical instruments, the property of Henry George Sworn, and to two other indictments for stealing cases of surgical, instruments, the property of other persons.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited. And
(520) FRANZ PUTZABD (33) , To stealing a pair of sleeve-links and other articles, the goods of Christian Hermann, Mayer; also, to stealing a portmanteau and other articles, and 14s. 6d., the goods of Oscar Löhing; to stealing a portmanteau and other articles, the goods of Frederick Trage, and to stealing five 20-mark pieces, the property of Frederick Trage.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended.
Samuel Smith and Co., wholesale boot and shoe manufacturers—I have had business with the defendant for about five years—at the end of 1889 he was bankrupt, and made a private arrangement to pay 17s. 6d. in the £ to his creditors—he paid all creditors with the exception of four or five; we received the whole—about 20th October last year he came to see us—before that he had been in negotiation with us for us to advance money to him for the purpose of carrying on his business, and a balance sheet had been shown to some one on my behalf—we wrote and requested that a later balance-sheet should be shown—on 20th October he came and saw me and produced these two balance-sheets of 7th January and 14th October, 1890—the first one shows an estimated surplus of £418 19s.—in the second one the balance is not carried down, but the assets exceed the liabilities by £795 odd, practically £800—I called the prisoner's attention to the difference between the two balance-sheets, and asked him to account for the very large increase between January 7th and October 14th—he said he had been doing a larger trade; trade had been exceedingly good, and the amount of his gross profit had been exceedingly good, to the extent of 25 or 27 per cent, upon his returns—I asked him for his books, and he said he did not think they would be required, and they were left behind at Wrexham—I made an appointment to see him on the following Saturday, at Wrexham, at his own shop, to examine his books, and also cursorily to look through his stock—I attended pursuant to that appointment—I did not see his books; he said he had sent them up the previous day to my warehouse in London—I looked at certain portions of the stock to satisfy myself it had been purchased at a correct price, according to Jones's description, but I was able to make no further investigation—I returned to London on the Monday or Tuesday following—the books which Jones said he had sent had not arrived, and I did not get them till the 21st November—he brought me his banker's pass-book, a detailed account of his stock, and a diary containing his takings from 21st January—I asked for a list of creditors, and he said he had no other books; these were all he had—I went through the books—no book stated the liabilities; I satisfied myself as to assets—on that I came to this agreement with the prisoner on 21st November. (This was an agreement to advance £400 to enable the prisoner to complete the purchase of the shop and premises at Hope Street, Wrexham, for £2,550, on his undertaking to obtain a first mortgage of the premises for £2,100 at 4 per cent, per annum, and to give the prosecutor a second mortgage for the advance, and to cover any indebtedness that might arise for goods or cash supplied from time to time; and also to give him a policy for £500 on the life of his father in the Refuge Assurance Company; the cash loan to be represented by the prisoner's acceptance of the prosecutor's draft at six months' date, which would be renewed from time to time at interest of 5 or 4 per cent., according to the Bank rate; the prisoner to do all the business he could with the prosecutor and to give his goods the preference, and to permit him to inspect his books and take stock, so as to ascertain his position; to keep such account books as would show his position, and to adopt all suggestions the prosecutor might make for the better progress of his business, the arrangement to be terminated by the paying off of the indebtedness by the prosecutor giving three months' notice)—I paid him this cheque for £50, which has been passed through our bank and paid—Jones took it with him—two or three days afterwards I saw him, but before that I sent him a cheque for £100 in pursuance of the agreement in reply to his request in writing
—then I had this letter of 27th November. (This from the prisoner stated that six of his creditors had taken proceedings against him, so he had not used the cheque, but returned it enclosed; that the property had been taken over by Morris and Co., and his solicitors had advised him to call his creditors together, and if they would give him time to pay he should do the same trade with the prosecutor as he had arranged, and repay him; and it added that he had made a little error in his last balance-sheet, that bills coming due for next year were in a book, and he had omitted putting them in the sheet; that they were not much, hut whatever turned up he should pay in full)—the £400 balance shown in the balance-sheet of January 7th, which was alleged to be prepared by independent parties, induced me to part with my money, and also the balance-sheet of 14th October.
Cross-examined. I certainly desire to prosecute the prisoner—the agreement of 21st November is my composition; I have had no legal experience—I am carrying on my own wholesale business, and retail businesses in various parts—I parted with my money on the two balance sheets; nothing operated on my mind beyond the interview we had—all I have parted with is a cheque for £50, that is the only sum I am prosecuting the prisoner for—I knew he had been in difficulties, and that he had paid us a composition of 17s. 6d. in the £—before 21st November a bill for about £13 or £14 that the prisoner had given me had been dishonoured—that was 24th October, I think—I did not know the prisoner was illiterate; there are two totals in the second balance-sheet—I knew the prisoner was taking steps to purchase his own premises in the main street, Wrexham, and it was with reference to that purchase that he had these interviews with me; he asked me for an advance to enable him to complete the purchase—I took no steps to inquire as to the value of those premises—I have heard they are let at the present time; I do not know for how much—I should be surprised to hear they are let at £170 a year; they were offered to me at £120; the vendor's solicitors wrote to me before I prosecuted the prisoner—I ascertained from him he was purchasing for £2,550; I do not suggest that was not correct—they were premises on which he had been for some years—I was to hand him £400 in cash from time to time, but the dates were verbally arranged with him, and as security for the £400 I was to have a second mortgage on this property, for which he was giving £2,550—I wanted more security, and so I was to have also a policy for £500 on the life of his father, who was over sixty years old, I believe; and I was also to have as much of his trade as he could give me, and he was to conduct his business under my supervision, and keep whatever books I liked—the £50 I gave him was to go straight to the solicitor of the vendor of the premises, I believe, and I believe it did go to him; I don't know it—I am not prosecuting in this case; the trustee, Mr. Price, is—I am the one man complaining—the £50 was to pay part of the deposit on the purchase of this property—a portion of the money for paying the deposit of £255 had been advanced by his solicitors or the vendor's solicitors, and they held the policy on the prisoner's father's life, and it was to be handed over to me—of the £255 deposit the prisoner had paid £75 before the representation to me, and £180 were advanced by the vendor's solicitors—he afterwards paid the £50 from me to go towards the £180—I found the prisoner an exceedingly sharp man of business, not because he got £50 from me; before that—he told me he
had had an offer of £200 for the premises before these proceedings were instituted—I prepared this agreement without any legal assistance—I sent the cheque for £100 about the 24th or 25th November—Morris and Co. were the vendors solicitors—I was paid the last half-crown of the composition of 17s. 6d. at the end of September or beginning of October, 1889, I think—he asked for extended time, and it was paid then.
Re-examined. The £75 was his own money, I did not advance that.
ARTHUR COLLINGWOOD PRESTON . I am a solicitor and registrar of the Denbighshire County Court, holden at Wrexham—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of James Gilbert Jones—the date of the prisoner's petition is 3rd June, 1890; the adjudication was on 7th January, and the prisoner is still an un discharged bankrupt—he was publicly examined on 13th January, 10th February, and 10th March—the examination was taken by a shorthand writer, transcribed, read to the prisoner, and each separate sheet signed by him. (Parts of the shorthand notes were read)—I produce the order of the County Court Judge directing this prosecution; application was made to him ex parte at Wrexham----after the examination he made the order to prosecute upon the report of the trustee alone.
Cross-examined. This is the trustee's report upon which the order to prosecute was made—I do not remembor anything in the report about the agreement of 21st November—application to prosecute is made exparte, and the judge is entitled to make his order on the trustee's report alone—Hope Street is one of the principal business streets in Wrexham; that is where these premises were situated I believe—there is no trace in the report of this agreement of 21st November being produced to the Judge—as far as I recollect Smith in his examination before the Magistrate made no mention of this agreement of 21st November.
Re-examined, I never saw the agreement of 21st November—I don't know that it was put before me—it was put in before the Magistrate by the prisoner's solicitor; I heard it read—I don't remember that it was handed to the County Court judge along with the trustee's report; it might have been.
HARRY LLOYD PRICE . I am an accountant of Manchester—I was trustee under the prisoner's bankruptcy, and I am the prosecutor in this case under the direction of Horatio Lloyd—before the application for order to prosecute was made the agreement of 21st November was in Grundy, Kershaw, and Company's, my solicitors, possession—certain documents were handed up to the Judge with my report—after that I next saw the agreement on the hearing of the summons at the Wrexham Police-court, when it was in the possession of the prisoner's solicitors—my solicitors have made a statement to me with reference to this document—I did not hand up the agreement to the Judge myself—the bankrupt handed his books to the Official Receiver, and I received them from him—they included a diary, with his entries with regard to bills falling due—they were incomplete—they only included part of the liabilities with respect to bills which were not included in the balancesheet, and do not show the whole of the omissions; some of the leaves have been torn away; I have them here—there is no book among these showing the amount of the bankrupt's liabilities.
Cross-examined. I have had bankruptcy prosecutions before this, and have reported to a County Court Judge before—I knew of the existence and the terms of the agreement of the 21st November—my report to
the Judge was a legal document, and was in the hands of my solicitors, entirely; I could not dictate the form of it to them—the terms of it were based on facts supplied by me—the attention of the Judge was called to the agreement—I took my solicitor's advice entirely—the prisoner was examined three times at the Bankruptcy Court—I have given a great deal of attention to the case, and it has occupied much of my time—I am afraid I shall not get much out of it—the Official Receiver, myself, and my solicitors cross-examined the prisoner, and his own solicitor re-examined him—I heard Mr. Smith examined before the Justices; he made no mention of the agreement of 21st November; it was missing—I had no copy of it.
NOT GUILTY .
WHITE PLEADED GUILTY.
MK. FORREST FULTON Prosecuted.
The JURY not being able to agree, were discharged from giving a verdict, and the case was postponed to next Session. White discharged on recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, July 2nd, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT Defended.
After the case had commenced, the prisoner stated that he would Plead Guilty to unlawfully wounding, upon which the JURY found that verdict. — Six Months' Hard Labour, and then to enter into his own recognisances, and find two securities to keep the peace for twelve months.
GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. GILL and BIRON Prosecuted, and. MR. GRAIN Defended.
ROSIE COHEN (Interpreted). I live at 20, Jamaica Place, Limehouse—on Monday, 25th May, at twelve at night, I was in the West India Dock Road, near the Great Eastern Hotel, in company with Mary Green—I saw some persons in front of the hotel; the prisoner was one of them—I saw him strike the deceased in the face, and he fell—I saw him on the spot when he was dead—I afterwards saw three men taken into custody by the police—afterwards I saw a number of men at the police-station, and I picked out the prisoner as the man who knocked the deceased down.
Cross-examined. I said before the Coroner that there were five men; one said to the other, "Here he is!" and then another man gave the deceased a blow in the face, and he fell on the back of his head, and the—
same man kicked him while he was on the ground—I saw four or five people fighting.
MARY GREEN (Interpreted). I live at 20, Jamaica Place, Limehouse—on 25th May, about twelve at night, I was near the Great Eastern Hotel—I saw the deceased, Petersen, there—I joined Cohen outside—I saw Petersen come out of the hotel; the prisoner, who was one of three men said, "I can see him here;" and I saw him strike the deceased on the face, and he fell—I afterwards picked out the prisoner at the station—I said there, "I can't say whether it was a blow or a push which the prisoner gave him.
ALBERT BACHERT . I am an engraver, of Gordon House, Newman Street, Whitechapel—on 25th May, about twelve, I was close to the Great Eastern Hotel—I saw six or seven people pushing and shoving; they seemed to be all slightly the worse for liquor—one of them seemed rather the worst, he staggered against a shop and one of the others tried to hold him up; he pushed him away and staggered towards the kerb; he was about to fall again, and another man tried to hold him up again, and he gave him a push; he then received a blow on the head, I could not say who from; I did not see the man's face, and at the moment he fell, about half or. three-quarters of a yard from the kerb, another person in the crowd kicked him—I could not identify the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not the man who kicked; I swear that—I could not swear who struck the blow.
JOHN ALLEN (KR 71). I was in the West India Dock Road about twenty-five minutes to twelve, and saw the prisoner and some others quarrelling and fighting—the prisoner had been drinking—I and another constable separated them, and they went towards the Great Eastern Hotel; a quarter of an hour after the same lot came out and passed down the road; there appeared to be a general fight amongst them—I saw the prisoner deliver a deliberate blow at the deceased, who immediately fell to the pavement, his head coming in violent contact with the ground—the prisoner ran into the road; I ran after him and took him back to the deceased; he was bleeding from the nose and mouth, and was insensible; he was taken to the hospital—the prisoner had a mark on his forehead and on his neck, and he complained of having been struck.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, July 2nd, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
526. HENRY FISON BUEGESS (49) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Rachel Gill, his wife being alive; also to stealing £140, the money of the said Rachel Gill; also to feloniously marrying Ellen Elizabeth Snook; also to stealing £239 of Ellen Elizabeth Snook; also to stealing £20 of Edward William Paine; also to stealing £11 of Jane Cole; also to stealing £1 of Edward William Paine.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude on each indictment, to run concurrently.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON, for the Prosecution, proceeded on the Second Count only.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY **— Six Months' Hard Labour.
The Prisoner having stated in the hearing of the Jury that he teas guilty of unlawfully wounding, they found that verdict .— Four Months' Hard Labour, end to enter into recognisances to keep the peace for twelce months.
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
MARY MCCARTHY . I am undergoing a sentence of three months, which was passed on me at the Thames police-court—on June 9th I was outside the Thames Police-court, and the prisoner, who was a stranger to me, came up and asked me if I would do her a favour, as her witness was not there, and answer to the name of Harriett Luck—I went with her into the Police-court office and did so, but the sergeant there knew me as McCarthy, and said if I took his advice I should go away, and I went away.
JOHN PRATT (Police Sergeant H). On June 9th the prisoner came to the Court with a pawnbroker's declaration—it was my business to take it, and call the name of the witness who was to identify her, Harriett Luck, of 22, John Street—I did so, and McCarthy answered to the name—I knew her well, and said, "Your name is Mary McCarthy; what do you mean by this?"—she said, "I will have nothing more to do with it," and left the Court—she said that the prisoner asked her to do it—the prisoner said she did not think there was any harm in it; she picked her up outside the Court—the matter was reported to Mr. Mead, the Magistrate.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry it happened; I have been very ill all the winter, and out of work. "
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Four Days' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, July 2nd, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
ALFRED JAMES BAKER . I am a clerk in the office of the Clerk of the Peace at the North London Sessions—I produce the indictment in the case against Taylor, Hawkins, and Smith, who were tried before Mr. Warry on 19th May, and convicted, and sentenced Taylor and Hawkins to three months each, and Smith to two months—these are the certificates of conviction. (The First Count of the indictment charged the intimidation of John Brayshaw; the Second Count with following him in a disorderly manner with other persons; the Third Count with using violence to him; and the Fourth Count with a common assault.)
THOMAS WILLIAM BRYAN . I am a solicitor, and partner in the firm of Walter and Bryan, of 17, Arbour Street E., Stepney—on 19th May I was solicitor for the prosecution in the case against Taylor, Hawkins, and Smith, and I was present in Court during the whole trial—I know there had been a strike at Mr. Buckland's yard, and that Brayshaw, who was the prosecutor at the Sessions, had not joined the strike, and that Taylor, Hawkins, and Smith were tried and convicted—Mr. Horace Avory was counsel for the defence—during the trial a constable and an inspector swore they had taken Taylor's number, and seen Taylor at ten minutes to 10 p.m. on 20th April—I heard the prisoner called on behalf of Taylor, who, it was contended, was not the man driving the cab on that night when the assault was committed—I saw the prisoner sworn by the usher, and heard him swear he, and not Taylor, was driving the cab in Bow Street, and using Taylor's badge when the police stopped him, and that the numbers of the cab and badge were taken by the police; and that during the evening of 20th April he was asked by Taylor to drive the cab, as Taylor had injured his arm—the jury convicted Taylor.
Cross-examined. This is a private prosecution instituted by the cab proprietor—I did not communicate with the Public Prosecutor—I made no note of the prisoner's evidence—I am speaking from memory.
Re-examined. I instructed you for the prosecution—while Rogers was giving his evidence you and I had a conversation together, and I paid particular attention to what Rogers said—I have no doubt I have correctly repeated what he swore in the witness-box.
JOHN BRAYSHAW . I live at 5, Saxby Villas, Bed Post Lane, East Ham—I am a Hansom cab driver—my badge is "16451"—I drive for Mr. Buckland, of Nag's Head Yard, Whitechapel; his cabs are yellow tyred, with "T.B. "above the window—on 20th April there was a strike at his yard; I did not join it—on 20th April I took a cab out of the yard—about 8.45 p.m. I turned into the Strand; I was hailed by a fare, who told me to drive to Ludgate Hill Station—I was set on by about thirty cabmen, among whom were Taylor, Smith, and Hawkins; they called me blackleg, and followed me; I drove through Fleet Street, and after a deal of trouble I got to Ludgate Hill Station; it took me thirty or forty minutes to get from Charing Cross to the station; the crowd of cabmen pursued me the whole way, threatened to kill me, and tried every possible way to do so; they drove up against me, jockeyed me and chiveyed me—after leaving my fare at the station I came back to Fleet Street; Taylor, Smith, and Hawkins were waiting for me at the corner of Fleet Street and Ludgate Circus, and followed me—I drove to Bow Street Police-station, saw a constable, and
I shouted out, and he came into the road and stopped the three cabs that were following me, and then an inspector came out and directed that the numbers of the cabs should be taken, which I saw done—I had known Taylor before by sight, driving a cab; I had never spoken to him; I knew his face—he was following alongside of me all the time, from the time I was shouted at in the Strand till the time I got to Bow Street; a little over an hour, I think—I saw him during the whole of that time—on my oath, Taylor is one of the men who followed me in the Strand, and whose number was taken at Bow Street—the prisoner is not the man, I am sure; he was not driving Taylor's cab that night—he was not stopped and his number taken, that I know of—Taylor does not resemble him in the slightest way.
Cross-examined. I have been driving a cab for twelve months; about two months for Buckland—I may have seen Taylor once a week or two or three times a day—he never drove for Buckland to my knowledge, not at the time I was in his employment—I know a great many cabmen by sight—I took up my fare at Charing Cross, and went as straight as I could to Ludgate Hill; I was turned round several times—I called out to the police to stop the cabs following me and take the numbers; the police laughed at me—I believe all the thirty or forty cabs pursued me down the Strand, some in front, some behind—I had to look after my horse—I had time to look to the side—I daresay I could recognise others of the thirty or forty, but they did not molest me, only called me "blackleg"—Taylor, Hawkins, and Smith were the three principal ones—they kept close to me and were on each side of me—they were the nearest to me, they turned me round—I was frightened—when I called to the police to take their numbers they pulled away—I tried to go round by the Embankment, and I was turned round by the three men when I tried to go down Villiers Street—when I came back I cannot say if more than the three followed me, because I was in front—I drove fast, trying to escape—after the cabmen's numbers were taken at Bow Street I went away—I cannot say that I had seen the prisoner before—the man I say was Taylor was wearing a billycock hat and a great coat—I afterwards went to Bow Street and identified Taylor, when he was brought into the dock before the Magistrate—I give my evidence to the best of my belief.
Re-examined. The three defendants at Bow Street were represented by a solicitor—the prisoner was not called as a witness on their behalf—I had an idea when he gave evidence at the trial that I had seen him before, but I could not swear to him—the three men were driving Hansom cabs-you can see a man very well who passes you on a dickey—I have seen Taylor off and on for six months—I am certain he is one of those who had their numbers taken at Bow Street—he does not resemble the prisoner in the slightest—after the numbers had been taken at Bow Street, when I got to the corner of Chancery Lane, Hawkins struck me over the head with the butt end of his whip and Taylor struck the horse with the whip; the horse started off—the Jury found Taylor guilty of that assault; I am certain about the three men—I first saw them in front of me at Charing Cross, where they turned me round and prevented my going down Northumberland Avenue—they followed me to Ludgate Hill, where I identified them.
at Bow Street Station, and I saw Brayshaw driving a Hansom cab, and following him, and almost abreast of him, were three Hansom cabs, one of which was driven by Taylor, I am sure; I cannot speak to the other two—I gave evidence at the trial of Taylor, Hawkins, and Smith—Brayshaw called out as he got to the Police-station, and I assisted in stopping the cabs, and directed Nickling to take the numbers—I stopped Taylor's cab—I was talking to the man who drove it for about a minute; there was a very good light there—I am sure the prisoner was not driving it; I afterwards saw Taylor at the Sessions—there is not the slightest resemblance between him and the prisoner—the prisoner is not the man the number of whose badge was taken by Nickling.
Cross-examined. To the best of my belief it was Taylor—I had never seen him before to my knowledge—I saw him; I did not detain him; the constable took his number—I did not have charge of the case; the detective did—one reason of taking the number was to identify the owner if he was summoned—there was not much disturbance that night; all I saw was a momentary affair.
Re-examined. The men were On their dickeys; the cabs were under the colonnade of the Opera House, on the opposite side of the way, and there were six Blenheim lights there alight—I saw the man's face in the full glare of the lights; he was about at the third lamp—I swear the prisoner was not the man who was driving.
HENRY NICKLING (E R 13). About 9.50 p.m., on 20th April, I was on duty in Bow Street, and saw Brayshaw drive up on his cab, with three cabs following him—he called out to me to stop the cabs, and I did so—Hanson gave me directions, and I took the numbers of the cabs, among them the number of a cab that was driven by a person whom I allege was Taylor—I do not recognise the prisoner as driving either of the three cabs—I daresay I was three or four minutes taking the numbers—I afterwards saw Taylor tried at the Sessions, and I identified him as the man who was driving—I have no doubt whatever about it—his number was 18406, and his cab was number 5863—there is no resemblance, as far as I can see, between Taylor and the prisoner.
Cross-examined. "When I took his number he was right underneath the great light in front of Covent Garden Opera House—the other two cabs were behind him; the light shone on his face and in mine as well—I cannot say that I had ever seen him before—I believe Hawkins was wearing a brown hat and Smith a black hat—I made these notes at the time, and the inspector initialled them—Hawkins, I believe, had a grey coat on—I spoke to Brayshaw; he was excited—the cabs drove away as soon as the numbers were taken.
Re-examined. I was not dazzled in the least by the light shining in my eyes; I had a good view—I have not the slightest doubt that Taylor was driving the cab.
WALTER GOLDING (Detective E). At 9.30 on the 15th of June I arrested the prisoner, and said, "I have a warrant for your arrest"—he said. "I have been expecting this"—I road the warrant—he said, "All right, I will go quietly"—he made no reply when charged at the station.
Witnesses for the Defence.
months—I have known the prisoner and Taylor as customers during that, time—on 20th April I was on duty from about 7 p.m. till 12.30—Taylor was in the bar when I went on duty at seven, and he remained there in my presence till about 9.30. when he went away—he came back at a quarter or half-past ten, and made a statement to me about the prisoner—he stopped in the bar then till 12.30—about seven o'clock that evening I. saw Taylor speaking to the prisoner, and heard their conversation—I did not see the prisoner after that till about 10.30; he was in the bar when Taylor came downstairs—the prisoner was dressed as he is now, to the best of my recollection; I saw no mark on him—I had no conversation with him; he spoke—I did not hear him say where he had been; I heard what he had been saying—there were three or four other people in the Grapes at the time, Mr. Brain, Mr. lies, and Crimmings, the billiard-marker.
Cross-examined. The prisoner and Taylor were in the front public bar—the bar parlour is the private bar—I believe 20th April was on a Tuesday; I remember it because I had to give evidence on the Thursday—it might have been on a Monday; I said I was not certain—the only reason I remember that it was Monday, 20th April, was by the time the prisoner was brought up to give evidence—there was no disturbance at our house that night—there was a bit of a row in the street; I remembered that at the time—Taylor would use our house when he was with his cab; our house is almost opposite the Pelican—there is a cabstand round the corner about a minute's walk off, not 100 yards—Taylor puts his cab on that rank—I cannot say if Taylor was in our house on the Saturday before 20th April; he was there on the Sunday with his sister—Brain was a waiter at the Pelican—I first saw Brain about a quarter or half-past nine, and he remained till about half-past ten in the bar, so that he was only there for about a quarter of an hour while Taylor was there in the same compartment—as far as I could see, he spoke to Taylor—two ladies were in the same compartment with him, and they also saw Taylor—I did not give evidence at the Police-court—Mr. Crimmings, the billiard-marker, gave me a subpoena to come to-day; he gave one to Mr. lies—he did not give me a shilling—on 21st and 22nd Taylor was in our house—I know the prisoner by the name of Little Dick—he is not much like Taylor—I should not mistake him for Taylor.
Re-examined. I went to the Police-court to give evidence two days afterwards, and I was told then upon what night Taylor was accused of creating a disturbance, and I remembered what date he was in our bar—I saw Taylor wearing his badge on that night on his button-hole—I did not see his cab.
JAMES CRIMMINGS . I have been billiard-marker at the Grapes, Gerard Street, between four and five months—I have known the prisoner using that house for six or seven months—I have known Taylor eight or ten months, I think—between seven and eight p.m. on 20th April I saw Taylor there; he came with his cab, and stayed there till about closing time—I saw him four or five times during that time, and between times he marked a game of billiards for me—the governor played—I did not see him in the billiard-room, but I saw him go upstairs to it between nine and ten—he stayed there half or three-quarters of an hour—I saw the prisoner at the house before Taylor came—I did not see him leave the house, but I know he did—I heard him talk to Taylor—I saw the
prisoner come back; he drove the cab up to the door—I was standing outside smoking; it was between eleven and twelve—I had a conversation with him when he came back, and he had a conversation with Taylor.
Cross-examined. I gave my evidence at Clerkenwell Sessions, as I have given it to-day, to the best of my ability—I don't know Taylor well; I am his friend through his using the house, nothing beyond that—I have no occasion to interest myself in him beyond the fact that he is a casual customer at the house—a clerk gave me the subpœna, no shilling; he gave me three other subpoenas, I served one of them on Burleigh—I have come here without any expenses—I think the game of billiards was one hundred up—I cannot tell who played with lies—I left between nine and ten, and was away half an hour, I suppose, or more—the game was over when I came back; I went upstairs—I came back one hour and a half or two hours before closing time, about eleven o'clock—Taylor was then upstairs in the billiard-room to the best of my belief—if not he was in the house I know—I saw the prisoner drive up in the cab when I came back; at eleven o'clock it might have been, or before eleven; it was 10.30 or eleven—I went out at nine or 9.30; I was out for a little over half an hour, and came back at 9.30 or 9.45; Taylor was then in the billiard-room—I could not have said I came back at eleven—you asked me what time the prisoner came back—the prisoner drove up to the house about 10.30 or eleven—I just went out to the door to have a look round as he came up—there was no game going on upstairs; they had finished I think—I don't know how many games they played—I saw Brian in the house at 9.30 or ten; I cannot say nearer—he was there with his mother and his wife I think—the prisoner is not like Taylor, who is dark—it would be impossible to mistake them—Taylor is taller, and has a moustache.
Re-examined. You could easily tell one from the other—I know them well, and therefore can distinguish—I have told the times to the best of my recollection—I am continually in and out of the house—I have to go out in the evenings sometimes—I don't always look at the time.
WILLIAM POTTS . I am a cab driver—I have known Taylor about twelve months—I know the prisoner—on Monday morning, 20th April, I went into the Grapes about seven—I saw Taylor there about 7.30—I had a conversation with him—I was there from 7 till 11.30, and I saw Taylor there all the time; I do not think I lost sight of him for five minutes all the evening—I saw the prisoner at 7.30 or 7.45, he went away on Taylor's cab at that time—I next saw him at 10.30 or 10.45, when he brought the cab back; he told me what had occurred—I have never been a striker.
Cross-examined. I was upstairs when the game of billiards was being played between lies and Brown—Taylor was marking the game, if I remember aright—I was in the bar when he came in—I cannot say when the game began or finished; when it was over we went downstairs into the front bar—several people were there—I might have gone in the bar-parlour, but not to stop—I think everyone came out of the billiard-room with me; lies, Brown, and Taylor came downstairs—I think it was quite 11.30 when I left the house; I was talking and drinking—Taylor was there the whole time; he was not in the same compartment with me—lies did not stay behind
the bar; I am not quite certain if he went downstairs. with me—this happened on 20th April, Monday—I had seen Taylor in the house several times before; I am in the habit of using the house, that is how I come to know Taylor—the first time. I knew him I was asked to get him to take the chair at a meeting—I have frequently seen Taylor at the Grapes; not always—there is a cab-rank round the corner—I was at the Police-court on Taylor's behalf, and was not called—I am positive I have not mistaken the night—I gave evidence at Clerkenwell—when the prisoner came back I said, "It is a much more serious case than you think of; you had better go and tell the Magistrate at Bow Street the whole case "—he did not go.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LYONS Prosecuted.
MARY ANN KNIBB . I am the prisoner's wife—we live at 23, Margaret Street, Clerkenwell—he is a labourer—we have been married about four and a half years, and have two children—about three p.m. on 6th June, after quarrelling all the morning, we were quarrelling again at dinner-time, and the prisoner took up a dinner knife from the table, and I felt it just cut my throat; he gave me one or two good punches besides with his fist on the left side of my jaw and the right side of my face—I struggled over to the sofa to get out of his way, and in doing so sprained my finger—my brother was afterwards fetched, I sent him for a constable—I went to Bagnigge Wells station and saw a doctor—the wound is quite well now.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You went round to my mother, and she sent my brother to see if I was being hurt—he went with you to the constable.
By the COURT. The prisoner has punched me before; he has not used a knife before—this was on Sunday; we quarrelled because he had been with his sister all the morning, and he does no good there, he should be at home; they are no good to me—he has been out of work three months—he has brought me home everything he could, and he has done odd jobs if he could get them.
ROBERT BEEBY (G 145). About four p.m. on 7th June the prosecutrix's brother and the prisoner came to me—the brother said he should give him in charge for cutting his wife's throat—I asked him to accompany me to the address, 23, Margaret Street—I there saw the wife holding her throat, from which a little blood was coming; she was very excited—she gave him in charge—the prisoner said, "You kept nagging of me, and I lost my temper; it is quite true, here is the knife," giving it to me—it was on the table—he was quite sober.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am divisional surgeon of the Clerkenwell police, and live in Percy Circus—at four o'clock on this afternoon I was called to the station and found the prosecutrix—she had an incised wound two and a half inches long, but quite superficial, merely through the skin and facia, the tissue that separates the skin from the muscle—it was in a dangerous position; it bled very little—the second joint of the right forefinger was swollen and sprained—there were no bruises on her face.
The prisoner stated in his defence that he had been with his relations, whom his wife disliked; that on his return she went to her mother's; that on her return from there, as was always the case, she commenced to quarrel, and would not be quiet, that he took up the knife to frighten her, with no intention of hurting her, but that during the scuffle she was scratched by it.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on the ground of the provocation. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
538. FREDERICK WALTER, ARTHUR GEORGE MEERS, HERBERT CHARLES TYLER and RICHARD CARTER PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully using certain rooms at 12, Cloak Lane for the purpose of betting. Other Counts, varying the charge.
WALTER fined £50 and £10 10s. costs, or to be imprisoned for three months in default. MEERS fined £25 and £5 5s. costs, or to be imprisoned for two months in default. TYLER fined £10, or to be imprisoned for one month in default. CARTER discharged on recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Friday, July 3rd, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
The SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with MESSRS. SUTTON and H. C. RICHARDS Prosecuted L and MR. BLACK Defended.
CHARLES HENRY FINCH . I am manager of the Model Printing Press Company, carrying on business at 96, Farringdon Street, City—I received these two letters, dated 1st and 2nd April, from 2, Blucher Street, Camberwell, in consequence of which I gave instructions that a printing machine and type should be sent there—the type was suitable for printing a money order like this (produced)—this cheque for £11 2s. 7d. was handed to me on 3rd April by Ward, my assistant—it was presented, and returned marked "No account."
JAMES FREDERICK WARD . I am an assistant to the Model Printing Press Company—on 3rd April, by the direction of Mr. Finch, I took a printing machine and type to 2, Blucher Street, Camberwell, and delivered it to Borrett, who gave me this cheque on Barker's; I gave the cheque to Mr. Finch.
ANN ADAMS . My husband is a carpenter, at 2, Blucher Street, Camberwell Gate—on 27th February Borrett came to lodge with me—he left on 3rd April without notice—that morning a Model printing press was delivered at my house.
CHARLES KING . I am an assistant to E. Lloyd and Co., paper manufacturers, at 72, Fleet Street—we have in the window a picture showing the process of making paper—on 8th April I sold some paper to a man who gave the name of Wilson, 79, Kingsland Road—the paper I sold was in all respects like this postal order.
Cross-examined. I could not say whether or no the prisoner is the man.
SAMUEL BORRETT (in custody). I have known the prisoner about two years; his son George I have known between three and four years—about the end of 1888 or the beginning of 1889 I lived in the same house with the prisoner, in Silas Street—in March last I was living at 2, Blucher Street, Camberwell Gate—on the Thursday before Good Friday I saw the prisoner at Vauxhall Station with his son George; the son told me in his father's presence that he should like to get a printing press to print a race-card, and he should want me to sell race-cards, and he would give me fifteen shillings a week to sell them—he gave me five shillings on that occasion, and I received ten shillings from the prisoner on the following Tuesday, the 31st; a few days later I received this cheque for £11 2s. 9d. to pay for a printing machine; it came to me in a letter which I threw into the fire-grate—I knew the writing, it was, George's—the cheque was filled up, exactly as it is now—on that same morning I received the printing machine at Blucher Street—I had nothing to do with writing the letter ordering the machine; I knew nothing about it till I received the letter—I was instructed in the letter to take the machine to the stables in Westmoreland Road—I took; it there that same morning, on a barrow—I there saw the prisoner, George, and Charles, a younger son of the prisoner—George asked me if I had got everything all right—I said yes, to my best belief—I left the machine, the type, and all the things at the stables—George asked me if I had got everything away from Blucher Street—I said no, I had left my clothes there—he asked if I had got the key of the house—I said yes, and he sent Charles with the key to get them, and told me I was not to go back there any more—this was in the prisoner's presence—at that time the prisoner was living in Madrone Street, about 150 yards from the stables—I did not know where George was living then—a few days afterwards I saw the prisoner again, by arrangement; the son Charles told me I was to get fresh lodgings near Vauxhall—I got lodgings in Arthur Street, and gave Charles the address, and he came down the following morning, and told me I was to meet the prisoner at the corner of Stamford Street, Blackfriars; I did so, and went with him to Fleet Street, to a paper-shop, Lloyd's was the name—there was a picture in the window, showing the process of paper-making—the prisoner went inside the shop; I waited for him; he was in there about half an hour to an hour—when he came out he had a parcel done up in brown paper with string round it—I went with him to the Elephant and Castle; as we went along he said, "I hope that will do me a bit of good"—I asked him if I should go with him to his son George's—he said, "George won't have you there"—I slept one night at 2, Madrone Street, where the prisoner was living; I can't tell the date—the following morning he told me that George would want me at the City News Rooms, Ludgate Circus, tomorrow morning—I went there, and met the prisoner, George, and two others—George told me he should want me to go to Watford, and take lodgings; the prisoner was present, but I won't be sure that he heard what was said—George gave me thirty shillings—I went to Watford about half-past three in the afternoon, and took lodgings at Mrs. Watson's,
226, High Street, in the name of Brown—George told me to do so, and to send up word to him where I had got lodgings; I was to telegraph to him to the City News Rooms, in the name of Taylor—this is the telegram I sent ("To Taylor, City News Rooms, Ludgate Hill—We arrived safe.—Brown, 226, High Street, Watford, April 14th")—I went to Watford alone—having sent a telegram I went out for a walk in the evening, and when I got back to the house Mrs. Watson said somebody had been asking for me, and after that in the evening I saw the prisoner outside the house, and I went with him to the station—he told me there would be some letters for me in the morning, and I was to bring them all up on Thursday afternoon to the News Rooms—the letters were to be addressed to the name of Brown—two letters came on Wednesday morning, and I think five on Thursday morning, and I took them, as the prisoner had instructed me, to the City News Rooms on the Thursday afternoon—I saw him there, and in his presence handed them to George—later on George handed me about five letters to take back to post at Watford—I took them back with me to Watford, and posted them there—I did not write any letters in the name of Brown—these letters marked G, H, and I, are not written by me. (These were letters to Cavender and Co., Great Eastern Street, purporting to be from Brown, first inquiring prices of cigars, and ordering goods, enclosing P. O. Order for £8 10s. 3d. in payment)—the name of Taylor is on one of these; I wrote that in Cavender's shop—on the Friday morning, 17th April, I came up to London and met the prisoner and his two sons at the Westmoreland Road stables, a little after 12—the prisoner's pony and van were in the stable—Charles gave me a list, and told me to go to all those places, in rotation, and he was to meet me at Blackfriars Bridge with the van—I met the van there about one o'clock—Charles drove the van, I went with him—we drove to several places—besides the list of places I had to go to I had five notes sealed up; we got goods at five places—I went into the shops, leaving Charles in charge of the van—I took the goods out to the van and put them in—we did not drive up to the shops, the van stopped a little way off—after finishing the collection we drove to Westmoreland Road, and at the stables met the prisoner and George—when Charles and I left with the van at Blackfriars George and the prisoner followed the van; they were on the pavement—I saw the prisoner opposite two of the places we called at—I saw George the greater part of the time; at one time he and the prisoner were walking together, at other times they were walking apart—on Saturday, 25th April, I met the prisoner with George at St. Paul's Tavern, Westmoreland Road; that was by arrangement, through a message by Charles—George told me he wanted me to go to St. Helens in Lancashire—the prisoner was at the counter at the time; I don't know whether he heard it, at any rate George told the prisoner to get an A B C timetable; George looked at it—I went to St. Helens by the ten o'clock train on the Monday morning, the 29th—George gave me the money to go, in the prisoner's presence—I went to 24, Biggerstaff Street, St. Helens, and took lodgings in the name of Williams; George told me to do so—later in the evening, about half-past nine, I met the prisoner and George at St. Helens Station; they did not come to the lodgings I had taken, they slept at a coffee-house—I saw them next day, Tuesday—on the Wednesday morning I received about twenty letters addressed to
me in the name of Williams; alter I had received the letters I saw the prisoner and George at the corner of the street—I gave the letters to George, and he gave one or two to the prisoner, who put them in his pocket—we then went somewhere in the country, to a public-house, I don't know the name of it; some tea was ordered, and George did some writing—the prisoner and I were present—that took about an hour—I afterwards saw George put something into the letter-box at St. Helens—on the following morning I went to Liverpool, and met the prisoner and George outside the Lime Street station—George gave me six notes, and a list of six places to go to—I went to those places, handed in the notes, and at five places received a big parcel which I could not carry, they were so heavy, and they sent them to the cloak-room for me; I got a man to carry them for me; that was at Albins—the other parcels I took to the cloak-room at Lime Street station, and left them there; I gave the tickets to George—these letters written in the name of Williams were not written by me—I afterwards saw George in a railway carriage at the Central Station; he went off from there—I went from there to Manchester—I did not travel with the prisoner; I travelled by myself, but he must have been in the same train, for we both arrived there at the same time—we put up at the same hotel—next morning the prisoner handed me six notes addressed to persons in Manchester; I called with those notes at the places to which they were addressed, and received parcels—I did not see the prisoner at the whole of the six places; I lost him—he had told me to take the parcels to the cloak-room and put them in the name of Jackson; I did so, and gave the tickets to the prisoner on the platform—he then took me to the London Road Station and got me a ticket to King's Gross—I was met there on the platform by George, and the prisoner was outside with a four-wheel cab, and three bags, like potato sacks, were put on the top of the cab; they were taken to the prisoner's house, 2, Madrone Street; I went there—George did not go there; he got out at the corner before we got to the house—I never saw these sacks opened—on Saturday evening, 2nd May, I met the prisoner at the City News Rooms about six o'clock, and he gave me ten letters, and told me that Mr. Ryland wanted me to post them at Rugby to-morrow—George had gone by the name of Ryland—I slept that night at the prisoner's house in Madrone Street—on the Sunday morning he gave me about five or six more letters, and told me to go down to Rugby by the ten o'clock train, and post the letters there; I put them with the other letters, and took about sixteen down to Rugby—George gave me thirty shillings on the Saturday night to go there—I posted fifteen letters there, and came back to London on Sunday night, and went to the prisoner's house; I saw him that evening—he asked me if I had posted the letters all right—I told him I had—I slept at his house that night—I should know the, directions of the letters I posted if I saw them—I know the handwriting of this envelope (the one addressed to Wales and McCulloch); it is George's writing—the letters were all fastened when I had them—I won't swear that this letter is one of those I received; I know the handwriting—all the fifteen letters are in the same hand, and the same as this—I posted them myself at Rugby at seven in the evening of 30th May, outside the station—on Monday morning, 4th May, I went to the City News Rooms by the prisoner's direction—I there met George and two others, Jones
and Taylor—about fifteen or sixteen notes were given to me by George—the prisoner was there at the time—one of the notes was the one which I afterwards took to Wales and McCulloch; I had previously delivered two of them, one at Mr. Aitcheson's and one at Messrs. Benson's—at the time I was arrested I had in my pocket eleven more of the letters addressed to different jewellers in London—at Aitcheson's and Benson's I received a little parcel—the one I got at Benson's I handed to George at the City News Rooms; the one I got at Aitcheson's I handed to the prisoner at the City News Rooms—when I gave George the one I got at Benson's the prisoner was there—I won't swear he saw me give it to George—he was on the premises—it was a diamond ring I got at Aitcheson's, and then I went to "Wales and McCulloch, and then I was arrested—the parcel at Aitcheson's was opened in my presence by the assistant, and he showed it to me, and put a little note inside.
Cross-examined. I am nineteen years old—I have no occupation at present; I never followed any—I used to go about to sell sweets done up in packages—I first sold them for George, then for myself—I have been employed by him; he was a confectioner—I don't know what business he has gone into recently; he was in the oil trade—he kept a horse and van to go round to sell oil—he did not sell it in a shop—I was convicted last Session—it first occurred to me at Holloway to give evidence—the police authorities came to see me—they asked me what I had done, how I got employed, and what the prisoner had done—no bargain was made as to what was to be done to me afterwards—no promise was made to me—I have not come to give evidence because I am sorry for what I have done—the prisoner was in the same ground exercising when the police authority came and asked me what I knew—I had no object; I had no hope of reward, I swear that—I did not really know what business I was engaged in all these transactions—I was only told that I was going to be put to manage a shop; the son told me he would do so, in one of the Midland Counties—I went down to Watford, and I gave the son the addresses of several shops that were to let there—it was not about those shops that I conversed with the prisoner that evening—I don't recollect what the conversation was about—I did not make a note of it—I have known the prisoner about two years, it might be a little more—I lodged in his house with the son—I should know George's handwriting if I saw it—I won't swear to any of these letters being his writing; I don't know whether they are or not—I have only seen one letter to-day; that is in George's handwriting—the cheque is his writing; it is signed "Barrett"—on the way from Lloyd's with the prisoner we conversed about one thing or another—I asked him when the racing cards would be ready—he said they would be ready for Epsom; that was before we went to Fleet Street—he was speaking about George and George's wife—it did not occur to me as singular that all this business should be transacted at the News Rooms—the son used to transact some of the business at the Temple News Rooms in Fleet Street—I really did not know what the business was; they never used to tell me—two others, Smith and Taylor, were mixed up with this, besides the prisoner and his sons—one of the two men goes in two names, Jones and Smith—I never had anything to do with him—I met him several times; I never talked to him—I should know him again if I saw him—Taylor goes to the Temple dub—I have seen him with George—I don't know
what business his was—lie never gave me any orders—I have seen them writing—I should not know their handwriting—I never did any business for those two; they never went with me into the country—I did not know who or what they were—I do not know how many letters the prisoner took at St. Helens; I received about twenty—the son opened them and read them to himself, not out loud—lie said to the prisoner, "Put them in your pocket"—he did not communicate the contents to him that I know of—the son and father lived separately—I did not see them together, only on these occasions—I made inquiries about vacant houses at Watford—I understood George wanted a shop; I did not know for what business—he was an oil and colour man then—I did not inquire for shops at Liverpool; I was only there two or three hours—I did hot see the prisoner write any of these letters, or read them—when he gave me the letters he explained that they were given on behalf of his son—I never saw the sacks till I came to London; I saw them on the top of the cab—I don't know that the son wanted the father to keep the sacks for him—the ring I gave to the prisoner was sealed up—I did not see him open it—I did not tell him what was in it—I gave it to him because I happened to see him first, and I told him I was going to Wales and McCulloch; if I had seen the son I should have given it to him—I knew nothing about these forgeries.
Re-examined. I did not know of any shop being taken by anyone during these transactions; I only knew that one was going to be taken by the son at the corner of Westmoreland Road—there never was one taken—the prisoner was known by the name of Thomas sometimes, and sometimes Foster—the son sometimes went by the name of Foster and Ryland—Jones' other name was Smith—I only knew the other as Taylor.
MARIA WATSON . I am the wife of John Watson, and keep a grocer's shop at 226, High Street, Watford—on 14th April Borrett came and took a lodging at my place, in the name of Brown—I asked him how long he wanted the lodging for—he said, "A week or fortnight"—he stayed with me three nights—he rave me a shilling as deposit—he went out in the afternoon—he asked what time we closed; I said "At ten"—about eight the prisoner came and asked if Brown was in—I said, "No"—he asked what time he would be in, and said he had promised to meet him at Watford Junction—the prisoner came in about nine—the prisoner came again at five minutes to ten—he called out, "Brown, is that you?" and Brown said, "Yes"—while Brown was there several letters came to him, addressed in the name of Brown—he left on the Friday morning, and never returned—he gave no notice.
FARAKRY KIRBY . I am daughter of the landlord of the Queen's Inn Rookery, about four miles from St. Helens—on a Wednesday afternoon in April three men came to our house, and had tea—the prisoner was one and Borrett another—they were in the house about two and a half hours; the third man was writing letters nearly all the time—they left from five to half-past—before going the prisoner asked me what time the post left for Liverpool, as he wanted to send some letters there—he said he wanted them to arrive early in the morning—I told him the time of posting was six or half-past seven.
be signed C. Williams, one of them containing a money order for £9 19s. 6d.—on 30th April Borrett called for the goods; they were sent on to the railway station.
HARRY ERMISTON . I am secretary to Milner and Co., wine and cigar merchants, of King Street, Manchester—I received by post a letter dated 27th April, 1891, signed C. Williams—I received a second letter, dated 30th April, containing a Post-office order for £9 18s. 6d.—on 1st May Borrett called, bringing a third letter, and goods to that amount were delivered to him.
JOHN BRADLEY . I am chief clerk at the Post-office at St. Helens, Lancashire—I have looked at these two Post-office orders; they are both forgeries; one is drawn at Liverpool, the other at Manchester; they both bear the name of St. Helen's Post-office, as if issued there—they never were issued there.
CHARLES ERMSTON . I am a constable at the Great Northern Railway, King's Cross—on 1st May I was on duty on the arrival of the 6.15 train from Manchester—it was part of my duty to enter the numbers of the cabs that left the station—I entered cab No. 26, going to Kent Road—I have the book here.
WILLIAM HENRY LEWIS . I am a cabdriver, and live at 48, Huntingdon Street, Caledonian Road—on 1st May, about twenty minutes past six, I was called from the rank by two men; they put in the cab some parcels similar to canvas bags, like potato bags; some they put inside and some out—I was told to drive to Madrone Street, Old Kent Road—I said I did not know the place; they said they would direct me—they directed me to Madrone Street—I saw the prisoner at the door of Madrone Street; he assisted to unload the cab—I could not say whether he had rode in the cab; I know he assisted in taking the parcels—the station number of my cab was 26.
Cross-examined. I did not say at the Police-court that the prisoner was one of the men that got into the cab—I said I identified him as unloading the cab.
WILLIAM HENRY HADFIELD . I am booking clerk at the cloak-room, Station Road, Manchester—on 9th May six parcels in sacks were left in my charge in the name of Jackson; they were taken away the same day, I can't say by whom—I have the book here from which I gave the ticket.
WILLIAM FREDERICK JONES . I am principal clerk to Cavander and Co., tobacconists, in Great Eastern Street, City—on 17th April a young man came to collect a parcel—he wrote the name of Taylor across this letter, which enclosed this money order for £8 10s. 3d.; he took away cigars to the value of £8 10s. 3d.—I believe I recognise him now.
ALEXANDER BROWN . I am a clerk in the employ of Mr. Benson, jeweller, of 62 and 64, Ludgate Hill—on 4th May I received this letter, enclosing two money orders for £10 and £5; the letter is dated from Dunchurch, Warwick—the order purports to be issued at Rugby, and
the envelope has the Rugby postmark—the letter is signed "F. J. Hilliard. "
JOHN AITCHESON . I am a jeweller, of 2, Ludgate Hill—on 4th May I received this letter, marked "A," with two Post-office orders for £10 and £5. (Read: "Dunchurch, Warwick, 2nd May, 1891,—Gentlemen: When in London on Friday I saw you had in your right-hand window a gentleman's diamond ring, price £15; the ticket, I believe, stated that it was secondhand, but worth £6 more; I hope you have not sold it; I had not sufficient money on me, or I would have bought it; I enclose Post-office orders for £ 15, and am writing to a young friend who is coming down here for a few weeks to call at your place for the ring before going to Euston.—J. HILLIARD")—this is the second letter: ("Kindly give the bearer the diamond ring, as per my letter sent you enclosing P. O. O. for £15.—Yours truly, J. HILLIARD.")
EDWIN ARCHIBALD HARRIS . I am assistant to Wales and McCulloch, of Ludgate Hill—on 4th May I received a letter, dated May 2nd, enclosing two Post-office orders for £10 and £5 15s., by the first post on Monday morning—I went over to the Post-office to make some inquiry, and a constable came to our place and waited—Borrett came in about half-past eleven, and handed to me a note addressed to Wales and McCulloch, and said he had called for the diamond earrings for Mr. Hilliard, of Rugby—he was thereupon taken into custody.
GEORGE WILLIAM DARKIN . I am postmaster at Rugby—these two money orders for £10 and £5 15s. were not issued at my Post-office—they are forgeries; the stamp on them has been forged; it is a different stamp altogether; there are two other Post-office orders for £10 and £5 15s.; they are also forgeries.
SARAH TELLET . I live at 87, Arthur Road, Brixton—on 26th January last a man of the name of Foster, his wife and two children, came to stay with me—they left on 7th May—while they were there the prisoner came very frequently—I remember his bringing something to the house on 3rd April—I thought at first it was a toilet service; it was covered over with a sack; it was brought by the prisoner's younger son—I never saw what it really was; I imagine it was put in the front room upstairs—I never knew the Christian name of the Foster who lived there; his wife used to call him Will—he and the prisoner were very often together; the prisoner would come the first thing in the morning sometimes, and remain the whole of the day—he has been there certainly as late as eleven at night—I never went into the room while they were there together; I never tried to do so—I heard something going on in the room, a kind of filing or rasping, like some hard substance, and a kind of clicking or tapping—that sort of noise continued sometimes the whole of the day—Foster went on 7th May; his wife gave notice the afternoon before—I noticed a newspaper just before they left; it was dirty, it seemed as if by black lead—I thought at first it was soot, but I tried it with my fingers, and nothing came off—the night before they left a fire was made of a lot of paper and things.
Cross-examined. They did their own cleaning up and sweeping—there was nothing unusual in the paper being covered with blacklead—I never
asked them to admit me to the room—the wife said her husband was a bookmaker's clerk—I don't know that he had any other business—other parcels came as well as this—I twice found confectionery boxes in the room after they had removed the furniture; it was only a piece of cardboard—the rasping and tapping was not like the hammering of boxes; it was more of a grating sound, rasping, not with wood; it was a very hard substance or metal—I knew that the prisoner was my lodger's father—I should not have known anything about the fire had it not been all swept up next morning, and there was no sign of any fire had I not seen it through the window.
Re-examined. I did not know of any trade carried on by the lodgers.
CHARLES FOSTER . I am the prisoner's son—I am fifteen years of age—for the last year or so I have been employed going out with oil—in April last my father had a shop in Westmoreland Road; it was an empty shop—I lived with my father at Madrone Road—I knew Borrett when he used to live in Silas Street some time ago—my brother George first took the stables—my father used to have them now and again; he had a pony and van there—I remember one day going with the pony and van into the City—I saw Borrett that morning at the stables; my father and George were there—I drove the van to the end of Blackfriars Bridge, and there Borrett jumped up—I always used to call him Barrett—I did not see anybody else there then—George told me at the stables where to drive; he told me to drive over Blackfriars Bridge—he kept coming up to the van and telling me where to go—I did not notice that Borrett had a list—I had no letter in my possession that day; I was only driving—when I stopped Borrett got out; I do not know where he went—he brought back a parcel and put it in the van—I do not remember what part of the City we went to; I do not know much of the City—we stopped at Great Eastern Street, near the railway—Borrett was already out then; I did not see where he went to—he did not come back with a parcel—George came back with the second one—he took it off of Borrett, I believe, and brought it to the van—we went to ten or twelve places in the City—in each case we did not go up to the shop, but stopped, and Borrett went away, and came back with a parcel—I saw my father in Commercial Street, close by Great Eastern Street—I believe we stopped at two places in that neighbourhood—I did not speak to my father; he was walking by himself at the other side of the street—that was the only time I saw him during the round—I did not speak to George; he only told me to drive up higher—I had no conversation with him—he never got into the van—when we got all the parcels I and Borrett jumped up into the van, and we took them to the stables and left them there, and then went home and had some tea—we did not take the parcels out of the van; we just backed into the stables and took the pony out—I left Borrett and George at the stables; I did not see my father at the stables—I know the printing machine—I first saw that in the shop in Westmoreland Road—I took it on a cart with some man to the Elephant and Castle Railway Station—that was on a Monday, I think; I cannot remember the date; it was after I had been the round to the City—I do not know who the man was that was with me; I should know him again if I was to see him; he took the machine into the station; I did not see what became of it—at that time Borrett had been taken up—I had never seen the man before
who was with me; I don't know his name; it was neither Jones nor Taylor.
Cross-examined. My father is an engineer; he was an engineer at the Regent's Canal Docks; he was there about twenty-two years—I don't believe he was looking out for a shop to find some other business—I don't know whether George was—I do not know what George is—I have been going about with oil with George; I had a barrow—George does not deal in oil; I used to get forty gallons every morning to sell—he did deal in oil then—I don't know whether he is now in the confectionery business; I don't know his business at all—I do not know Jones and Taylor; I have not heard anything about them; I never met them—I never used the printing machine—I did not know of anybody having a share in the stables—I never saw my father engaged in printing—we went to all the places in the City in the most open manner.
Re-examined. I stood at the corner of the street, and they brought the parcels to the van—my father ceased to be in the employ of the Regent's Canal Company in August, 1890—I don't know what his employment has been since.
FREDERICK WILLIAM MANN . I am a clerk in the Inquiry branch of the General Post Office—when Borrett was arrested he handed me these eleven letters; they are all addressed to jewellers, and I should say they are all in the same handwriting.
HUGH EDWARD SHAYLER . I am a police-officer attached to the Post Office—on 29th May I arrested the prisoner in Old Kent Road—I said to him, "I am a police-constable; I have reason to suspect you are concerned with Samuel Borrett and others in forging money orders; I want you to come with me to the General Post Office"—he said, "Yes; I think you are mistaken; I know a boy named Borrett, who used to work for me, but I don't know anything about any money orders"—on the 30th I formally charged him with being concerned in forging and uttering these money orders—he said, "I have already said I know nothing about it"—when I took Borrett into custody I found no jewellery or diamond ring upon him—on 29th May, when the prisoner was at the Post Office, I said to him, "Do you remember going on the 14th April last to see Borrett at Watford?"—he said, "No, I did not; if he says so, it would not be true"—on 1st June, at Bow Street Police court, he said, "When I went to Watford I only called to see him, because I knew he was there; I did not know what he was there for"—I showed him the twp letters addressed to Mr. Benson and Mr. Aitcheson, and said, "Will you look at these two envelopes? Are they in your writing?"—he said, "No; they are not mine"—I said, "Do you recognise the writing?"—he said, "I have seen the writing before on many occasions; I can't say where, exactly; it is very much like the Writing of my own son; I don't say it is so, but it is similar.
Cross-examined. I have only known the prisoner since the day I arrested him—I have heard that he was in the employ of the Regent's Canal Company for twenty-two years—when I showed him these letters he had no hesitation in saying he thought they were like his son's writing—he was not excited—I had paper and pencil in my hand, and I wrote down the question before I asked him—the observation at Bow Street was made to his wife.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, July 3rd; and OLD COURT.—Saturday, July 4th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. C. MATHEWS and MR. BIRON Prosecuted; MR. C. F. GILL appeared for Jones, and MR. F. FULTON for Whitefoord.
Jones received a good character.
GUILTY .—JONES— Eight Months' Hard Labour . WHITEFOORD— Five Years' Penal Servitude
THIRD COURT.—Friday, July 3rd, 1891; and NEW COURT.—Monday, July 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
JAMES MCLEWIN . I am cashier at the Princes Street branch of the Union Bank of London—on 16th June the prisoner presented this draft at the counter—I noticed it was a second of exchange, and asked him whether he was the payee Amos named in the body of it—he said, "No"—I said, "Where did you get it?"—he said, "From Debenham's auction-rooms; a man named Wood gave it to me there, and told me to come to the bank and get cash for it"—I referred to our advice-book, and found that the first of exchange had been paid on 19th May, which rendered this second valueless—on turning round I saw the prisoner's back passing through the swing doors on his way to the street—at the same time a shout was raised, "Stop that man!"—the prisoner was outside the bank door; our messenger brought him back, and he was given into custody.
Cross-examined. It is an American draft, paid under advice—there is no stamp on it; American drafts have no stamps; a stamp would be affixed before we paid it—the bill of exchange that comes to our hand is generally a first of exchange, and the second is destroyed by us or by the owner—if the second is presented first we should pay it; both are of equal value till one is presented, and then the other is waste paper—they are drafts in duplicate.
Re-examined. A second is frequently presented; we ask Americans asking for payment for a penny, and affix a penny stamp before payment.
WILLIAM LAWLEY (Detective Inspector City). On 16th June I was called to the Union Bank, where I found the prisoner detained—I told him I was a police-officer, and said, "Can you give me any explanation as to how you came into possession of this bill?"—he said, "I got it from a man named Smith, a dealer at Debenham and Storr's and Johnson's"—I said, "Can you tell me where he is; where he lives?"—he said, "No,
I meet him occasionally at the sale-rooms. He was waiting: outside the bank when I came in"—he was given into my custody—he made no reply to the charge at the station—he gave the address, 38, Upper Manor Street, King's Road, Chelsea—I have made inquiries, and mid he has not been there for nine months—the people from there are here—I found on him 1s. 10d. and five pawn-tickets and a gold watch—the prisoner gave a description of Smith; I have looked for, but cannot find him.
Cross-examined. General dealers do hang about Debenham and Storr's and Johnson's auction-rooms—all sorts of odds and ends are sold there—very often persons are about there who are not what they ought to be—his brother lived at the address he gave—he gave me a description of Smith very readily when I said, "Can you give me a description of this man, and I will try and find him?"
EDWARD LUCAS . I am messenger at the Union Bank, Princes Street—on 16th June, on hearing the cry, "Stop that man!" I looked towards the door, and saw the prisoner running—I ran after him, and took hold of him outside the door, and said, "You are wanted inside"—he nodded his head, saying, "There is the man"—I looked and saw no man outside the bank—I brought him inside to the counter—again he pointed to a man inside the bank and said, "There is the man"—he was close enough to catch hold of the man if he had chosen to do so, but he did not—I took the prisoner into a room at the back of the bank.
Cross-examined. I am sure he was in the street when I caught him—he was through the third set of doors, on the kerb, close to the road just outside the bank—he was making down the street; he had gone about two steps—he came back quite quietly—he said, "There is the man," as I was taking him off—he nodded his head—he was very flurried—no one was close by; several people were on an omnibus, and several were standing outside waiting to get on—the horses' heads were against the bank door—the people were not near the door, they were getting on to the omnibus—there may have been people passing by—the very moment I turned him round and said he was wanted inside he nodded his head and said, "There is the man. "
Cross-examined. My husband is the householder.
GUILTY **— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment .
543. EDWARD TAPLIN and JEPHUNAH OWEN, Unlawfully conspiring to defeat the ends of justice on the hearing of a case in the Divorce Court, in which Taplin had filed a petition for the dissolution of his marriage with Susannah Taplin, on the ground of her adultery with the said Jephunah Owen.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and A. GILL Prosecuted.
GUILTY .—TAPLIN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour , OWEN— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, July 3rd, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted; MR. BURNIE appeared for Weaver, and MR. PURCELL for Nash and Brown.
BRADLEY ABBOTT . I am a tobacconist, of Roman Road, Bow—on 7th June I went to the Victory Arms, Stepney—I know the landlord, William Higgins, and went to assist him—the prisoners came in amongst others—Nash, I believe, called for some beer, and I stood them drinks—they led me to believe they were 'bus conductors on strike—when I went round to the public side of the bar one of them said, "Oh, Mr. Abbott, if you are in a hurry to get home we can drive you back to Roman Road"—I said I wanted to get home quickly, and I got up with them in their cart—Weaver drove, and I sat on the board, Nash next him, and I with my back to them, and Brown on the opposite side—we left about 6.40—they said they were going to take a short cut, and they drove for about an hour or an hour and a half—I didn't know where they drove—in Mill Lane Weaver came back on me, and one of the other two clutched hold of me—it was nearly opposite the Police-station, between the lights—they hit me on the throat, and threw me out, and seized my watch and chain—Brown and Nash ran away—I seized Weaver and struggled with him, holding the pony by the reins—he broke the whip over my hand to make me let go—I called out, and a constable came, and I gave Weaver into custody—I lost the bow of my watch, which has been found by the police—the chain was broken, and the watch I have never found—Nash and Brown were arrested on the 10th June—I was taken in a cab to the Police-station, and identified the prisoners amongst others—I did not know they were inside.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I got to the public-house about 6.10—it is about twenty minutes' walk from my house—I can't say how much beer I had—I had a glass of gin and bitters before lunch—I was in the habit of serving behind the bar—I think it was two quarts I stood—Nash and Brown came in first, and Weaver followed and joined them—he led me to understand by his conversation with the other two that he was a 'bus man on strike—I am not sure who suggested driving me home—I have been about three months in the Roman Road, and was a tobacconist before—I did not give Weaver a shilling for the ride—I sat on the nosebag—Weaver represented himself to be a 'bus man, but not so directly as the others—they did not suggest that the drive would "pull me together," and the fresh air do me good—I was perfectly sober—I was as good as detained by force—we stopped at one public-house—I believe I had one drink there—I did not know the neighbourhood—there was no more jolting than usual—it is a good road—I was thrown out, but it was all done so quickly I can't say who did it—I remember being examined before the Magistrate when Weaver only was in custody—it was the other two who threw me out—I did not jog the pony's head up and down—I was excited—I had the reins when Weaver struck me.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I had never seen the other two before—I went to the public-house with Ryder's son—he came with another man to my shop—they came to my shop about five, and we went together with the dogs—the Wednesday following a detective came to my place after I was closed up, and I was told to get up on a cab, and before we got to the station I was told, in a dark place, to get down—I did not know
they had got the two men supposed to have robbed me, inside—they were placed amongst about a dozen others, with their hats on—I had given a description of the prisoners, and was certain of them.
Re-examined. My reason for helping Higgins, the landlord, is that we are customers of each other—the nine or ten glasses I had had was in the course of the day—I do not mean that I was excited through drink—I went on the cab, and could not see inside.
GEORGE TAYLOR (J 184). I was on duty at the Victoria Park Station on the night in question—I heard cries of "Stop thief! "and rushed out down the road after some people I saw running—I came on Weaver and the prosecutor; they were struggling, and the prosecutor said, "I shall give this man into custody for stealing my watch"—Weaver said, "I didn't take the watch; it was his two mends," and that he only struck him with this whip (produced) to make him let go of the pony's head—the prosecutor had been drinking and was very excited—he was not tumbling about.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. The prisoner was struggling to make the prosecutor let go of the pony's head—I did not hear him tell the prosecutor to let go of it—I might have said so before the Magistrate.
WILLIAM PATRICK (J 390). I was on duty with Taylor—I heard cries of "Police!" and we both ran out—we brought in the pony and cart, and the prosecutor and Weaver—we searched the cart, and found the bow of a watch at the end of the cart.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. It was close to the nosebag.
WILLIAM RYDER . I am twelve years old, and live at 332, Roman Road—I was in the public-house at 6.30—the prosecutor and Mr. Davidson and the landlord were there, and about a quarter of an hour after I saw the prisoners there drinking—the prosecutor went round to them, and one of them said they would drive him home—he said, "All right"—he wanted Mr. Davidson and. me to go—a week after I picked Brown and Nash out at the Police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I went to the public-house with Davidson, a lighterman, and the prosecutor—I did not help to draw beer—I said at the Police-court I could not recognise Weaver—they did not say the prosecutor would be all the better for fresh air.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. We left the tobacconist's for the public-house about 5.45, and got there about 6.20—they left between 6.30 and 7—I was having some ginger beer, and minding my own business—the prisoners were, strangers to me—it was the Monday week I was taken to the Police-station, where I picked out Nash and Brown—I had seen the prosecutor and detective before, and given a description.
Re-examined. The prosecutor and one of the prisoners invited us to go with them in the cart.
MARY ANN CLAYTON . I am the wife of Frederick Clayton, greengrocer, of 186, Wick Grove, Hackney—I was sitting at my street door about nine o'clock on the evening in question when I saw a pony and barrow stop between my house and the station—there were four gentlemen in the coster's barrow—Brown, I think, threw the prosecutor from the barrow—he insisted on his coming down—he was sitting, I think, near the driver—the two prisoners ran away, and the prosecutor said he had lost his watch—he tried to stop the horse—the driver was whipping his horse to get. away as well as the. others, it appeared to me.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I did not recognise "Weaver when I flaw him again; the barrow stopped for the other two men to get down—the prosecutor called out, "Stop thief!" and a crowd came up at once—I did not go any further from my door, and whether the barrow went three yards or thirty I cannot say.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The stopping and throwing the man out and running away were done very quickly—the street lamps were not lighted; the four men were perfect strangers to me—I saw Nash and Brown on the Thursday before the Monday I gave evidence—they were with the police; I said I could swear to. Nash as the one that threw the prosecutor from the barrow—I swear he was one of the four; they might have been two minutes under my observation, or less—I swear to Brown; to the best of my belief he threw the prosecutor from the barrow—I saw both their faces—the detectives asked me to go and see if I could recognise them at the Homerton Station.
WILLIAM KEMP (Detective J). On 10th June, about 11.30 p.m., I went with Constable Crewes to the Prince of Wales, Bow, where I saw Nash and Brown—Nash exclaimed, "Look out, Bill!"—I told them I was a police officer, and should arrest them on suspicion of being concerned with Weaver, in custody, in stealing a gold watch from the person of Bradley Abbott on Sunday night, the 7th ult., in Wick Road—Brown replied, "You have made a mistake, governor"—we were at once surrounded by the prisoners' associates, about two hundred persons—Nash became very violent—I had Brown, and in the scuffle I saw Nash pass something to a woman, and she at once ran away—additional assistance arrived, and the prisoners were taken to Bow Police-station—a pair of handcuffs was obtained, and put on Nash, and a cab was got, and they were conveyed to Victoria Park Police-station—on the way we called for the prosecutor, and he identified the prisoners amongst seven others—the prosecutor got on the top of the cab from behind.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I mentioned Nash passing something to a woman, before the Magistrate—it was after the depositions were read over that I told the Magistrate's clerk, in the hearing of the prisoner, it was done in the sight of Crewes—I did not hear Crewes mention it before the Magistrate—I did not see the Magistrate's clerk write it down—Nash said, in answer to it, "Yes, your worship, it was money;" I did not see what it was—I have been four years in the police—Constable Flaun went in to fetch the prosecutor out.
MICHAEL CREWES (K 508). I saw the prisoners at about 4.30 p.m. on the 7th June—they went over Widdowson's Bridge in a pony trap, and when they got on the bridge they waved their hands to me—I took particular notice of them; I had seen them in the neighbourhood for a long time—I was with the last witness when he took Nash on the 10th—Nash, at the station, tore off his tie and put it in his pocket, and changed his black hard felt hat that he had on and put a cap on; the prosecutor came in and identified Nash and Brown—he asked permission of the inspector to change his attire, and the inspector said he did not mind.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I had not seen the three prisoners together before that Sunday.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The Widdowson Bridge is over a railway—I think the North London—when I saw Nash and Brown in the barrow they were going away from the Victory I should say.
THOMAS FLAUN (K R 23). I was at the Bow station when Brown and Nash were brought in—at the Victoria Park station Nash said, "God blind me, Tom, I didn't have the watch, but I know who did"—that was during the time they had gone out to get some others to put with them, for identification—I saw Nash change his hard felt hat and put on a cap; I did not raise any objection—I have seen the prisoners together frequently during the nine years I have been attached to the station.
JAMES TURTLE . I am a medical man—on the 7th June I examined the prosecutor at about 10 p.m.—he was sober, but very excited—he was quite able to walk about, and I understood what he said—there was a severe contusion on the back of his right hand, and I bandaged it—it was an injury such as would be caused by the butt end of a whip.
Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. It was a severe contusion, but not serious to life, if you mean that—I did not attend the Police-court—some solicitor attended on me, and I told him what I knew about it—I should say, from the prosecutor's condition, he had been drinking—I should imagine that the effect of a man being struck on the hand so as to cause this bruise, and losing his watch after a long drive, would be to sober him.
Witness for Nash and Brown.
JAMES CRAWFORD . I am a greengrocer, of Maplin Street, Mile End Road—I known Nash and Brown—I heard they were taken into custody—I saw them the Sunday before that at my yard, between 8 and 9 p.m.—the Victory public-house is about a quarter of an hour from my place—they came about taking a stable, and said they had been about buying a pony—they remained with me for an hour—the Prince of Wales public-house is near my place—they left me about 9.30—that was the Sunday before I heard they were locked up.
Cross-examined by Mr. HUTTON. I have known Nash and Brown for years—Brown used to work for me when I was in business—I am costermongering now—I first heard they were locked up on Wednesday night about eleven o'clock—it was the 7th they came down about the stables—I went to the Police-court—I knew they were innocent—I was never called—Brown asked me to come here to-day; he sent his niece—" he is my nephew.
Re-examined. I was only one day before the Magistrate.
GUILTY . Nash then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on January 6th, 1890, in the name of George Bennett. WEAVER and BROWN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour . NASH— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, July 4th; and
THIRD COURT.—Monday, July 6th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
545. JOHN ASTLEY THOMAS (44), FREDERICK JONES (42), JOHN HENRY FUNNELL (40), and WILLIAM CHITTENDEN (32) , Unlawfully conspiring to defraud John Cole Stogden, and others, of their money, by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and obtaining money from the same persons in like manner and with like intent. MESSRS. F. FULTON, C. F. GILL, MUIR, and A. GILL Prosecuted; MR. H. C. RICHARDS appeared for Thomas, MR. A. METCALFE for Jones, MESSRS. HUTTON and ROACH for Funnell, and MR. SANDS for Chittenden.
During the progress of the case the prisoners stated, in the hearing of the Jury, their desire to PLEAD GUILTY, and thereupon the JURY found them
GUILTY .— Judgment respited.
NOT GUILTY .
547. JOSEPH DAY (29) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously obtaining payment of 12s. upon a forged instrument; also to feloniously obtaining from James Carey an order for the payment of 19s. 8d.; also to obtaining from Edward Woodford payment for 18s. on a forged instrument.— Nine Months' Hard Labour .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on the ground that they thought it was a sudden impulse.— One Month Hard Labour .
OLD COURT.—Monday, July 6th, and Tuesday and Wednesday, 7 th and 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and HUTTON Defended.
CHARLES GEORGE TIMMS . I am a clerk at the central office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce the record in the first action of Howe v. Burchardt Ashton—the date of the writ is the 20th June—the statement of defence is the 26th June, and the reply the 31st June—the judgment is dated 3rd March, for the defendants, on the claim and counterclaim, amounting to £1,351 18s. 1d.—I produce the writ in another action, dated 18th July, 1890, of Howe v. Burchardt Ashton.
WILLIAM HARRY SEYMOUR CUTLER . I am employed in the office of Messrs. Cherer, Bennett, and Davis, shorthand writers, at 8, New Court—I was present at the greater part of the trial of Howe v. Burchardt Ashton before Mr. Justice Wills—I took a shorthand note of the greater part of the evidence given by the prisoner, who was the plaintiff on that occasion, on the 17th, 18th, 19th, and 25th February, and 2nd March—the transcript produced is correct.
THOMAS HENRY GREENFIELD . I am a shorthand writer, of 87, Chancery Lane—I assisted in taking notes in the case of Howe v, Burchardt Ashton—on the afternoon of 18th February I took part of the cross-examination of the prisoner—the transcript produced is correct.
JOHN WILLIAM LEHMAN . I am a shorthand writer, in the employment of Messrs. Cherer, Bennett, and Davis—I was engaged part of the time in taking notes in the case of Howe v. Burchardt Ashton on the afternoon of 19th February—the transcript produced is correct. (The transcript of the evidence given by the prisoner was put in and read in full.)
FREDERICK HOWARD TINKER . I am a physician and surgeon at Talbot House, Hyde—I frequently attended the late Mr. Benjamin Ashton during 1889—when I first attended him, in April, he was very weak, suffering from the effects of kidney disease and diabetes, and he was a martyr to rheumatism—he was better when the warm weather came, and I did not see so much of him from July to November—I saw him at the end of November—he said one night that he had had a stroke, but I thought he had fallen, fainted; he had smoked too many cigarettes, I think—that was at the latter end of November, on an occasion when Mr. Burchardt and his mother had been—he had chronic rheumatism, and was ill, but not bedfast, at the time—the rheumatism was then chiefly in his hands, which were very stiff-and contracted; it was on both sides, but the right side was the worse—on Saturday, 21st December, he sent me a message, requesting me to go and see him, as he had got a fresh cold—I was in bed with quinsy, and could not go—he said if he went any worse he would immediately send me word—I had a report on Sunday, saying he had a cold, but I was not to go if I could possibly help, but I went at nine o'clock on the Monday morning, and saw him—he was extremely weak, and suffering from acute bronchitis and rheumatism; his hands were contracted—he was in bed in the first room on the right-hand side as you go in, where he always was, and where his bed was—I told him he was very seriously ill indeed—I saw him that day and the next—I was with him nearly the whole of Christmas Bay, up to nearly midnight, with the exception of about two hours in the afternoon—I am informed he, died at six o'clock on the following morning, the 26th—he was perfectly clear in his mind—on Christmas Day I saw there the prisoner, the male attendant, Maddock, a kind of housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, Swinfen, and Mr. Turner, a solicitor—I saw him sign some cheques on Christmas Day—he was lying on his back in bed, and Swinfen brought the cheques and put them on a book, and then a pen was put into his hand, which was taken bodily and guided—it was entirely passive in the hand of the man guiding it—the pen was across the palm of his hand—these cheques are similar to those I saw—his fingers were stiff and contracted, and the joints enlarged, and that condition of things had existed for weeks before—when he sent for me on the Saturday, saying he had a cold, it was purely out of consideration for me that he did not insist on my coming—he had been extremely weak for some days before I saw him—I should say that he would not have been able within forty eight hours of the time I saw him to, unaided, jot down figures on a memorandum paper; he could not have written anything without help for forty-eight hours after I saw him, that is my opinion—he would certainly not have been able to be up walking about the place or looking after his books within that time.
Cross-examined. He had a complication of diseases; bronchitis, rheumatism, diabetes, and kidney disease were the chief points—he was better when the temperature was higher—it might have had a good effect if he had kept up the temperature of his room—I first knew him to speak to on 18th April—I am no connection of his, or of Burchardt—I believe the mother of my cousin was his aunt; I should not dream of claiming relationship—he always struck me as a capable, shrewd business man; not careless about money matters, but very near, I should say—I was informed that he died on the afternoon of the 26th—I have
not seen any sudden reinvigoration immediately before death—in some acute illnesses it may happen, but not in chronic ones—his illness varied a good deal—I have seen him sign documents.
Re-examined. With the exception of the 24th and 25th, when he was sinking, I never saw him worse than he was on the 23rd—he remained seriously ill from 23rd to 26th; it was his dying illness—I told him on the Monday morning that he would die.
ARTHUR JENKINS HARROP . I am manager of the Stockport branch of the Manchester and Liverpool District Banking Company—the prisoner has had an account there for some eighteen years past—I have known him since I went to manage the Stockport branch, about six years ago—he had a cheque-book between December, 1884, and March, 1885, in which were two cheques, Nos. 500339 and 500340—they never came to the Stockport branch—I produce a correct certified copy of the prisoner's banking account from 30th June, 1887, to 31st December, 1890. (MR. GEOGHEGAN objected that before this copy could be produced it was necessary, under the Bankers' Evidence Act, that proof should be given that the bank made a return to the Revenue. It was arranged that the witness should produce such proof next morning, and his further evidence was postponed until then.)
JOHN ALEXANDER HUNT . I am manager of the Hyde branch of the Manchester and Liverpool District Banking Company—the late Mr. Benjamin Ashton had an account there for upwards of seventeen years—I was very well acquainted with him, from a business point of view—he used to come and see me at the bank—he was very careful and methodical in money matters—this pass-book of his shows his dealings with his private account at the bank—he had also a mill account at our branch, and there is a pass-book showing his operations on that account—both pass-books relate to the years 1888 and 1889. (MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the witness speaking as to the contents of the pass-books, as he was not the person who had made the entries. It was arranged that next morning an examined copy of the account should be produced)—I heard of Mr. Ashton's death on 27th December, the day after it occurred—in the course of 1889 I remember communications coming to the bank as to how his cheques would be signed in the future—on 11th April I received a communication from him, saying that his cheques would be signed by John Lynch, and were to be honoured—we acted on that till 27th May, when we received orders from him that in future we were to honour his cheques when signed by Cook and Swinfen—that continued till 6th July, when he directed that the cheques were to be signed by himself, and countersigned by Swinfen; that continued till his death—this cheque on the Stockport branch, on which the word Hyde appears, is signed B. Ashton—I have searched through five years to see the way in which he has signed—during that time he has never signed or authorised to be signed any cheque B. Ashton—the latter part of his life he used to sign Benjshton—up to the spring of 1889, when Lynch signed, he signed Benjamin Ashton—he did not sign Benj. when he signed alone; he introduced the abbreviated form at the time he associated Swinfen with him—there were 884 cheques in the five years, and Messrs. Sharpe's had a few before—in no single instance was the initial used—no cheques were issued to him with the Stockport branch printed on them—this cheque was never presented at Hyde; if it had been we should not have paid it for three
reasons, because it still remains a cheque on the Stockport branch where Ashton had no account, because his cheques at that time had to be signed and countersigned, and because being signed B. Ashton, it was different to the signature he was in the habit of using—when a cheque was not specified as being on the mill account, it was put to his private account; he invariably marked his cheques "mill account" if he wanted them to go to that account, but he put no memorandum when it was to go to the private account—these cheques, dated 26th and 28th December, were presented and paid; the signatures are perfectly formal, and they are on proper forms taken from the cheque-book—that of 28th was paid by the executors' instructions—I heard of Ashton's death on 27th.
Cross-examined. If the correction from Stockport to Hyde had been verified by the signatures of Ashton and Swinfen, we should have paid it, provided the signatures were satisfactory—I never received business letters from Ashton—I have here two documents from him, only one is signed by him, and that is a receipt signed "B. Ashton"—his signature did not vary very much till he became cramped with rheumatism—he never signed a cheque "B. Ashton"—when he could write properly he signed "Benjamin Ashton"—it is not impossible that we should have honoured cheques signed "Benj. Ashton," because his signature never varied—he did sign "Benj. "occasionally; he never signed "B. "—the "Ashton "is always the same—we have a register of customers signatures, on which we pay—we have cashed his cheques when signed "Benj. "without special authority to do so, but we should not cash them if they had been signed "B. "Ashton.
Re-examined. We should look at the writing of any cheque brought to us, and satisfy ourselves as to the genuineness of the writing—I have not the slightest doubt that this cheque of 15th March is in his writing—before this cheque altered to Stockport could be dishonoured it must go to the Hyde branch; if that branch paid it they would do so on their own responsibility; one branch has no duty of paying another branch's cheques—when it got to Hyde it would be dishonoured for other reasons—if a client has authorised some one else to sign with him we cannot recognise his signature alone—I should think he had cancelled his own signature; his own signature alone ought not to be paid till his order was rescinded—if we were satisfied that the signature, B. Ashton, was that of our client there might have been no objection to paying the cheque, but this cheque did not satisfy us—we should not have paid it after these orders from April to the time of his death—after the order of 16th July a cheque so signed would not have been honoured—we should mot have honoured this cheque supposing it had been duly in order after we received intelligence of Ashton's death—a cheque received after the death of a man would be returned marked "Customer dead. "
"FREDERICK BURCHARDT ASHTON . I am a nephew of the late Mr. Benjamin Ashton; I live now at the Tavistock Hotel—I am one of the executors of his will, and a beneficiary under it—I was abroad, and came back to England in June, 1889—about the latter part of November, 1889, at my uncle's request, I went to see him—his hands then seemed crippled with rheumatism, but he could get about the house; he told me he did not go out of doors, but he could walk about the house—he had to be assisted in feeding himself and in dressing, but mentally he seemed quite clear-headed and business-like—I had a long conversation with him about
the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincolnshire Railway claim—I was with him from about 12.30 till five—that was the last time I saw him alive—I think it was about 20th November; somewhere about the latter half of November—I received notice of his death on 26th December, and went to Pole Bank on 27th—I went into the room he used as his sitting-room, which they called the drawing-room; on the ground floor—I saw book sand papers on the table, and in other parts of that room—I am not certain if it was that day or later that I saw the mill books lying on the table; I think it was two or three days later I noticed them particularly, but there were papers in the room—I went on that day to the safe, which is on the same floor, and I looked through his writing-desk, which was in the safe Mr. Cook, one of his clerks, or Mr. Swinfen, I think, gave me a key with which I opened the safe—I took the desk out and just looked into it to see if there were any instructions as to his funeral, and if his will was there—I put the desk back and locked the safe with Cook's assistance—I kept the key of the safe and took it away with me—on the same day I went with Mr. Turner to the Hyde branch of the Manchester and Liverpool District Banking Company, and saw Mr. Hunt—I stayed in Manchester till the 31st—I was at Pole Bank one evening for a few minutes, and I went there on the morning of the burial (the 31st)—I attended the funeral—I saw the prisoner that day; I had never seen him before—I saw him in the large room at the side of the house on the ground floor, called the dining-room—Cook introduced me to him—he spoke of the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincolnshire claim, and told me he was very anxious to see me, and he produced a letter from Mr. Boss, the secretary of the company, to tell me that Mr. Ashton had authorised him to try and settle this claim without going to law—he wished me to read the letter—I had not got time, and I just looked at it—he explained the nature of it, and mentioned that he had been down to Long Barns, in Essex—I told him I was an executor under the will, and I could not tell him what we were going to do with things at Long Barns, but we must keep things going as they were—he said he had been in charge of the—place for Mr. Ashton; he told me he had done a good deal of business for Mr. Ashton, and in case I wanted any assistance he should be very glad to be of use to me if he could be so—he mentioned he might be of use to me round Pole Bank with regard to the mills, I think, and round there—I told him I was now in my position as trustee and executor, and I could not tell him what I meant to do; I could not give him any information on the subject; that things would have to be kept in statu quo till I got probate of the will, and had power to act—he said it would be very advantageous to settle the railway claim without going to law—as far as I remember that was the sum and substance of the interview—he did not mention the existence of any cheque, or that he had any claim against the estate; he only said he had had business transactions with Mr. Ashton; he did not say anything about what they were—he never mentioned that he had any claim—I had had a letter from him, I think, a night or two before the funeral—I tore it up, it was only asking for an interview—I had to talk to Mr. Cook and Mr. Swinfen; Mr. Turner and a cousin of mine were there—I went from the dining-room, where I had been talking to the prisoner, into the drawing-room, my uncle's sitting-room—the prisoner was in that room, and I think Mr. Turner, and Cook and Swinfen were in and out; three or four of us were in the room at the
same time as far as I can recollect, among them the prisoner—this was in the morning, before the funeral, which was fixed for about 11.30—I must have been in the house for half an hour with the prisoner before the funeral took place—I suppose he attended the funeral; I did not see him there—I did not go back to Pole Bank, but I went to Manchester—I think I next went to Pole Bank on the evening of 2nd January, 1890, about five o'clock—in the course of the first week of January I saw the prisoner at the London Road Station, at Manchester, in company with Mr. Halstead—I spoke to him in Halstead's presence entirely on the subject of the railway claim—I don't think we conversed on any other subject; we were only together from ten minutes to a quarter of an hour—I told them I could not tell them what I could do about it; the whole situation was altered by Mr. Ashton's death—they both said it would be far more advantageous to me to settle the matter out of hand, instead of going to law—it was quite clear to me from what they said that the matter had not been settled—nothing was said about any cheque or any claim of the prisoner against my uncle's estate—I was at Pole Hank six or eight times between 2nd and 12th or 15th January—about the 8th I collected all the letters lying round the house with Cook's, Swinfen's, and Mr. Turner'8 assistance, and put them into the safe—Mr. Ashton kept the mill accounts separate, and we did not take anything connected with them; but we went over the house and found old letters, some twenty years old, and I locked them in the safe—I left out a few trust receipts and documents of that sort that I knew were of no importance—I think most of the letters came from my uncle's sitting-room; there were a lot of letters lying about upon the table, and some on the chimney-piece and elsewhere—some of them were put into two ordinary open wooden boxes, which were put into the safe—I did not examine the letters much—I locked the safe and took the key away—the second key of the safe was left inside—I went to the safe occasionally afterwards while I was at Pole Bank and opened it to get keys out which were inside, and also to look at files of letters which were there—I did not examine the contents of the boxes before I left Pole Bank in the middle of January—as far as I recollect it the contents of the boxes remained intact—I left Manchester about 12th or 15th, and returned to London—I had an interview with the prisoner at the Woodley Station for a few minutes some time in the first fortnight in January—we talked about the Long Barns farm—the prisoner was very anxious I should go and see it—I said I had been too busy to go there—he asked we when I should go, because he wished to go at the same time—he asked me what I was going to do with the place—I said I did not know, my brother had an interest in the place as well as myself, and was also an executor, and he was abroad, and I asked what Mr. Ashton had thought of doing with it, and he told me Mr. Ashton had talked about letting the place to him (Howe) for a year and advancing him the money to work the place with, but that they had made no agreement about it; that they had discussed it, and Mr. Ashton wanted 10 per cent, of the profits, and the prisoner was to have anything after that, and to pay the rent—the prisoner told me it was a very good farm—he asked me what I was going to do with the mills at Woodley, one was working and one not used; he said he could perhaps dispose of one of them for me—I said I did not know what I was going to do with them; I had made no arrangements—that was about all
that was said at that interview—there was no mention of the cheque or of any claim—about the middle of January I came to London—about the 28th January I saw the prisoner at Mr. Sharpe's office; he wanted to find out the prisoner's position; the prisoner said Mr. Ashton had proposed leasing the farm to him, and he made us a proposal to buy us right out; he wanted to know if we would sell—I think I asked him if he could pay cash for it, and he wanted to know if we would take payment in Consols; and he said he had got a reversionary interest in the life of some person for £14,000; but it did not amount to anything—he never mentioned the cheque or the claim—I think it was in the first week of February, 1890, that I had determined to appoint a new manager to Long Barns—the prisoner had told me a bailiff was in charge of the farm, but I had left the prisoner in possession; I told him if he would keep things running on he could do so—about the first week in February we appointed Mr. Marshall as manager of Long Barns farm—I was present at the interview of 13th February, but I don't think I was present when Mr. Sharpe told the prisoner of that appointment—Mr. Sharpe went into the room, and spoke to the prisoner about it, and afterwards I saw the prisoner—I heard it was arranged between Mr. Sharpe, Marshall, and the prisoner that Marshall should take charge of the farm immediately, and the prisoner said he was going down on business to Essex, I suppose to inform the bailiff of the change—I had no conversation with the prisoner about that matter; I think I spoke to him for a few minutes about the railway claim—on the evening of the 14th I think he came to see me at the Hotel Metropole, where I was staying; he had returned from Essex, and mentioned having seen Marshall there—we had a long conversation that evening, and it was then he first mentioned about this guarantee for £1,200 and about this French lady—we conversed about Long Barns, and about the railway case, and then about Mr. Ashton, and then I think he asked me whether I had heard any reports about Mr. Ashton and any woman, and said he had seen Ashton in Paris in 1868, the Exhibition year, I think, with a Frenchwoman; and he asked if I had heard anything about it, and if Mr. Ashton had left his private affairs in good order—I told him his affairs were all in very good order as far as I knew, but I had put all his private books and all his accounts into Mr. Sharpe's hands, and the accounts in the hands of the accountants at Manchester, and that all the things would be put into order and arranged shortly; we had not been through them all at present—he asked me whether I had come across any guarantee at the Stockport branch of the Manchester and Liverpool District Bank, and I asked him the particulars about this guarantee, and told him I had heard nothing about it so far—he told me Mr. Ashton had guaranteed a sum of £1,200 at the bank, and he explained that he (the prisoner) had used this money to pay to a certain Frenchwoman for Ashton, and that he had used the guarantee in order that Ashton's clerks, Swinfen and Cook, should know nothing about the matter; that he had guaranteed this sum so that the prisoner should draw it—then he explained that he had paid sums of money to this lady on behalf of Mr. Ashton, one at Charing Cross and one at Newhaven; he did not mention King's Cross then—he told me he brought a document back from the lady and gave it to Mr. Ashton, who was very glad to get it, and destroyed it—I asked what
the document was; he said it was a bond or settlement of some sort—I asked whether he knew the lady's name—he said, "No;" he did not describe her by any name—he said at one interview she had a youth with her—he made no mention then of two. boys—I said, not knowing anything about this guarantee, I should like him to communicate himself with my solicitor; that I did nothing without my solicitor's advice, and I wished him to communicate with Mr. Sharpe about the guarantee—he said the lady had received large sums of money from Mr. Ashton—I asked how much it would amount to altogether; and he put it at about £3,000; he had actually paid her £1,200, I understood, at those two interviews—I think that, was all the conversation—I said, "Good-night," and he went to catch a train—down to the 14th there was no mention" of a cheque or of a claim—he knew I had not settled the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincolnshire case; we discussed it that evening, but I knew nothing about it, I had left it in Mr. Sharpe's hands—the next morning I saw Mr. Sharpe, and told him what the prisoner had told me the previous evening about this guarantee—then this letter of the 18th February was written by Mr. Sharpe. (This stated that they should be glad to hear from the prisoner that he had cleared off the overdraft for which the Manchester and Liverpool District Bank had given a guarantee on his account. The prisoner's answer to that Utter stated that the overdraft was for private business he did for Mr. Ashton)—I was not present at the interview on 27th February—the next time I saw the prisoner was in Mr. Jowett's office at Stockport; I won't be positive about the date—from 19th February to 13th May I had constantly seen my solicitor from time to time, and had been made acquainted with the contents of a number of documents forwarded by the prisoner or his solicitor—I saw this copy of the letter of 5th May, which purported to set out the items of his claims against the estate, and purported to contain on the back of it the copy of a letter, addressed, with my uncle's authority, by Philip Maddock to the prisoner—that last communication, on or about the 5th May, was followed by "the interview at Mr. Jowett's office, Stockport, at which I was present, about the 13th May—Mr. Jowett was the prisoner's solicitor—I, Mr. Sharpe, and Mr. Jowett and the prisoner were present—on the 9th April I met Mr. Oakshott at Pole Bank; he was Mr. Sharpe's managing clerk—I gave him the key of the safe and left it in his charge—Cook and Swinfen were there—they were authorised to take papers out of the safe, especially such papers as might throw light on Howe's claim—either the first or second day I was Shown this envelope and its contents by Oakshott—at the time it came to me it had been opened, and I saw the contents—I saw the pencil memorandum and an unsigned copy cheque—they and the envelope were produced to me altogether—they were taken to Mr. Sharpe—on 13th May, at Mr. Jowett's office, the cheque on which the prisoner claimed to be paid £1,375 was produced by Mr. Jowett and Mr. Sharpe, and I inspected it, and then we called Cook and Swinfen in to examine it—Mr. Sharpe explained the signature was different to the ordinary signatures, I think, and he then asked the prisoner how the cheque came to be signed, where it was signed, and whether anybody else was present, and whether it was signed without assistance—the prisoner said he did not know; he was not sure whether or not Mrs. Williams was in the room, but it was signed unassisted—I then saw the
letter written by Maddock for the first time, as I saw the cheque for the first time—Mr. Jowett produced the letter by Maddock; it was on this piece of blue paper—I cannot remember much that was said about that—I cannot remember whether the pencil memorandum was produced then; my attention was mostly taken up with the cheque—I had seen a great number of my uncle's signatures, the signatures of his later life and former signatures—the colour of the ink and the signature of this cheque caught my attention at once; and the date of the cheque struck me too, from what I had heard about Mr. Ashton not being in a condition to sign cheques on the 23rd of December, within three days of his death—Mrs. "Williams was one of the women, I believe, who were employed at my uncle's house, Pole Bank, to assist in nursing him and other things, with Maddock—after that I did not see the prisoner again to have any conversation with him—under my instructions the guarantees were paid on the 19th of May, when I saw him at Mr. Jowett's office—this guarantee of the 20th December, 1888, for £300, is signed "Benjamin Ashton," and this is the other of the 15th of November, 1889, for £900; they were paid, as we were satisfied they were genuine—in the end this railway claim was settled for £2,000 on our behalf, and each party paid its own costs—the settlement took place last year—the probate of my uncle's will was £220,000, if I remember rightly, and there was some land also—roughly the gross value of what my uncle left was a quarter of a million sterling.
Cross-examined. The railway company may have originally laid their loss at £30,000—I cannot remember how the letter of 24th December from Mr. Ross, the secretary of the company, to the prisoner was worded—he produced the letter, but did not read it to me—I read it afterwards—he was thanked by the company—I had heard rumours about my uncle in connection with women Before I went abroad in 1880; I was astonished when I heard of the large sums he had paid to the French lady; I did not believe the story; I had to pay £1,200 on the guarantees I did not connect them with the lady—I received the keys of the safe on 27th December from Cook, and from that day till the discovery by Oakshott I carried one key, and I think the other was in the safe—as far as I know I was the only person who had a key to it—when I saw the prisoner in the house on 31st December I had the key in my pocket—although he had seen me several times he never spoke about the documents—the copy of the alleged forgery was first shown me by Oakshott, who said he had taken it out of the safe—I did not see him find it—I think I told the prisoner at our first interview that nothing could be done till after the probate—I may have said at that interview that I did not know much about my uncle's affairs—on the 14th he asked if my uncle's affairs were in good order—the prisoner told me he had other matters of business to discuss—he told me that at the Woodley station interview, I think; and again at some other time he mentioned to me that I should find he had had lots of business with Mr. Ashton—he said there were other matters of business he desired to discuss with me; he gave me the impression they were quite unimportant—when I said my co-executor was abroad, and nothing could be done until after probate, that was not with regard to talking about business, but as to selling' Long Barns—I did not say I could not tell what my legal position was—I told him more than once that my brother, who was my
co-executor and co-trustee, was away, and that made it rather difficult for me to do anything in the railway claim and the sale of Long Barne—I had seen Halstead once before for a few minutes; he was practically a stranger—we spoke about nothing but the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincolnshire matter before him—Mrs. Williams was called as a witness at the civil trial—she fainted three different times in court—Maddock left my service after the civil trial, at his own wish—I did not discharge him—he has not asked for a character—he told me he had employment somewhere in the neighbourhood round Stockport, I think—I don't know if Mrs. Williams is a tenant of mine now—I don't know all my tenants; there are a good many of them.
Re-examined, I heard rumours about Mr. Ashton and women about 1878 or 1879; that was the last time—I did not hear then after that till his death.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I saw this card of a French actress in Mr. Sharpe's office; it had been found among my uncle's papers at Pole Bank—it is rather a fast address—I have been in the Haiwaiian Islands since 1880.
WILLIAM ARTHUR SHARPE . I am one of the firm of Sharpe, Parker, Pritchard, and Sharpe—we acted as executors of the will of the late Benjamin Ashton—I saw Mr. Burchardt from time to time after Mr. Ashton's death—I first saw the prisoner at my office on 17th January, 1890—he explained to me and Mr. Burchardt that he was employed by Mr. Ashton to manage the Essex farm, and that Mr. Ashton intended to give him some interest in it—the interview may have lasted half an hour—that was the only matter discussed at that interview—nothing was said about a cheque, or about any claim he had on the estate"; he made no claim of any sort—I told him he would be properly remunerated for anything he had done for Mr. Ashton, or for the executors—I think probate was taken out on February 7th, and I saw him again on the 13th in a separate room—I said I could not see him as anything but agent, and we had decided to appoint Mr. Marsham to manage for the trustees—that is the Long Barns property—I took him to the other room, and introduced him to Mr. Marsham, and they made arrangements about meeting at Chelmsford the next day, but nothing was said about a cheque, or about any claim on the estate—I had the railway company's claim before Mr. Ashton's death; there was an action against him, but they had not gone into the question; I wrote one letter to tell the solicitor who the executors were—I saw Mr. Burchardt Ashton the next day, or the day after, in consequence of which I wrote a letter to the bank at Stockport, and received an answer, in consequence of which I wrote this letter to the prisoner the same day. (Asking him to inform them of the exact circumstances under which the guarantee was given.)—I received this reply. (Stating that he had paid £1,500 for Mr. Ashton out of his own account, and giving the particulars of the alleged guarantee.)—that was the first time I had heard of the claim of £1,500—I next saw Howe at my office on February 27th, and we talked about the Essex farm and the railway claim, and the overdrawn account—as to the railway claim, he produced the letter from Mr. Ross to himself, which has been put in, and I read it—I had asked him in a letter to bring up his pass-book—he brought it, and gave me an account of how the money overdrawn had been expended—he told me he supplied it to pay to a lady by Mr. Ashton's request, that he had seen the lady at three different places, Newhaven, King's Cross,
and Charing Cross, and on two occasions she was accompanied by a youth who was so like Mr. Ashton that it was evident he was his son—I asked him to point out in the bank-book which were the items which had been drawn out for the purpose of payments to the lady, but he could not do so—this (produced) is the book—I looked at the items and saw they were all small sums—in reply to my questions he said that Mr. Ashton gave him a cheque to clear the balance off; I asked if he had got the cheque with him; he said no, he had got it at home, and I could see it; I asked if he had got any papers to vouch the payments to the lady; he said he thought he had got enough at home to prove them—that was the first time I had heard of the cheque—I told him he had better consult a solicitor; I hardly knew what to say to him, I wanted to bring the interview to a close—about 15th March I received a letter from Mr. Jowett, enclosing an account from the prisoner—the prisoner handed me an account of the expenditure at Long Barns, and Mr. Jowett sent me another account of a further claim. (This was for £1,000, and cheque£375; total, £1,375)—on the 17th I received a letter from Howe, written on the 14th. (Stating that he had bought the Long Barns estate on his own responsibility, and paid for it with his own money.)—there is a claim of £1,000 for settling the railway company's claim—that was the first intimation I had of the claim for £1,000—I then sent this answer. (Stating that it was the first he had heard of the clam, and did not understand what the£375 claim was for, or whether the £1,173 10s. 9d. balance at the bank was a further claim or not.)—about 9th April I sent Mr. Oakshott, my managing clerk, to Pole Bank with certain instructions, and he brought back this envelope and its contents, the copy cheque and memorandum—I kept them—on 21st April I received this letter from Mr. Jowett. (Enclosing particulars of Howe's claim, and stating that there was a second claim for settling the Dunkirk suit.)—on 6th May I received this letter from Mr. Jowett. (Dated May 5th, and enclosing another claim.)—to that was appended a copy of another letter stating, "Sir, I will give you £6,000 for Long Barns "—with that was this account, I believe. (This was an account from Howe to the estate claiming a total of £2,375.)—that was the first I had heard of the Maddock letter—on 13th May I went to Stockport to Mr. Jowett's office with Mr. Burchardt—Cook and Swinfen were there at part of the interview; Mr. Jowett produced the cheque and the Maddock letter and some earlier papers with reference to things which were sent to Long Barns—I examined the cheque very closely—Mr. Howe was present the whole time; I asked him how it had been signed, I think I must have said whether Mr. Ashton had any assistance in signing it—he said that Mr. Ashton had signed it quite unaided, and that Mrs. Williams was present—Mr. Howe said that Mr. Ashton jotted down the figures with the stump of a pencil to arrive at the amount of the cheque—I had with me the pencil memorandum and envelope, and asked Mr. Howe whether that was the memorandum Mr. Ashton made; he said that it looked like it, and probably was it—I do not think I let it out of my hand; I did not. give it to him to examine—I had the Maddock letter in my hand, and asked Howe when it was signed—he said three days after he bought Long Barns—Cook and Swinfen came in and examined it—I had told them not to speak when they were in there—I advised Mr. Ashton that the guarantees should be paid, and we should resist Mr. Howe's claim—I had been to the bank and seen the guarantees—on June 20th the action
of Burke and Ashton was commenced—this is the statement of claim as delivered to me—I was present in Court during the trial of the first action, and on 17th February, 1891, during Howe's examination-in-chief by Mr. Willis; the promissory note for £200 was produced—I do not know who it purported to be signed by—I had never seen it before—the prisoner made an affidavit of documents, but this one was not disclosed; it came into my hands when it was produced in Court—I looked at it very carefully, and saw that a hole was made through the stamp, where the date of the year generally is—I have submitted to experts letters and documents by the late Mr. Ashton, and photographs of the cheque in dispute, and the original memorandum—after the production of the promissory note I brought Mr. Peacock, of Somerset House, to look at it.
Cross-examined. I have acted as solicitor to the late Mr. Ashton—he had a good many, I think—I made a will for him in 1879—I knew nothing about his banking account till after his death—he did not say that he had advanced the money out of his own business, or tell me he had begun to advance money in 1887—he did not tell me at that time that his banking account only showed a balance of £108—I asked him whether he had not assisted Mr. Ashton to sign cheques—my first conversation with Maddock was on May 14th, 1890; the action had not begun then; he told me that this document was drawn up by him on the late Mr. Ashton's authority—he was a servant to the executors, looking after the house—I saw him next in London, when I took his proof, and he completely contradicted his first statement—I asked him why he had told such a lie—he said, "Because you took me unawares, and I did it on my own responsibility," and I think he said he had seen me with Cook and Swinfen on 14th May, and he did not want them to know about his having signed the paper—I think Mr. Ashton had no actual consulting solicitor, but went to outsiders to get advice; he cited a solicitor's name to me—I have made a great many inquiries about the railway claim, and no doubt the prisoner busied himself about it in Mr. Ashton's interest.
Re-examined. Maddock said at the end of October that the statement he made on May 14th was false—I do not remember his words, but he did not want it talked about.
By the JURY. When I told the prisoner on 13th February I could not recognise him except as an agent, I had not seen the letter which says, "To avoid all risks of partnership, etc.,' and I have not seen it yet, but I remember it well.
WILLIS GILHAM OAKSHOTT . I am clerk to Sharpe, Parker, and Sharpe, solicitors for the defendant in the action of Howe v. Burchardt—I received instructions to go to Pole Bank, and went on 9th April—I met Mr. Burchardt Ashton; he gave me the key of the safe; I opened it, took out the papers which were there, and locked them up; I found the envelope containing the printed memorandum and the copy-cheque among some papers in a wooden box—I took the box out of the safe, emptied it in the sitting-room, and found them.
Cross-examined. I do not know the date of Mr. Ashton's will—there are two codicils.
—I have inspected this promissory note, and carefully examined the stamp, the date of which is 19th August, 1890.
FREDERICK SWINFEN . I live at Woodley, near Stockport—I was in the employ of the late Mr. Ashton for some years before his death—at the latter portion of the time I used to go to the house—on the 20th November, 1889, Mr. Ashton sent Maddock to the prisoner with a letter, the greater part of which I wrote under Mr. Ashton's directions—Maddock opened it, but I do not know whether he read anything—I remember the substance of it—later in the day I saw the prisoner with Mr. Ashton—this cheque for £550 was signed by Mr. Ashton and countersigned by me, and I took it down to Mr. Howe at his house—I was in the habit of countersigning his cheques—he took to his bed a week before his death—I was in the house the greater part of the day, I did not sleep there—his cheque-book was kept in the safe, and when he wanted them we had to tear them out, and bring them up—sometimes I got them up and sometimes Mr. Cook—Mr. Ashton signed this cheque (produced) on the 21st November—it is countersigned by me in his room—there were two bottles of ink there, they contained the same kind of ink—Mr. Ashton signed these cheques (produced) on Christmas Day, the day before he died, with my assistance; I had to place the pen in his hand and then hold his hand; and the same on December 21st—on December 26th, the night after he died, the prisoner brought a letter to Pole Bank from Mr. Boss, and said if Mr. Ashton had lived another day the affair could have been settled; he said nothing to me about the cheque for £1,375—on March 4th I saw the prisoner at Apethorne Mills; he said he had been doing some private business for Mr. Ashton while he had been ill, and he had paid some money to a French lady; that Mr. Ashton kept the affair strictly private, and sometimes burnt letters referring to it; Mr. Ashton had promised him £1,000 for what he had done about the Dunkirk claim, but the devil of it was he had nothing in writing—Mr. Cook was present when he said that—he also said if we found any papers relating to his affairs would we let him have them and he would make it right with. us—he did not say where, but we were sorting the papers at the mill at the time—on April 16th I saw him at Zion Mill, and he asked me whether we had finished sorting the papers at Pole Bank, and whether we had found anything—he said he had left a copy of a cheque with Mr. Ashton, and the original had been signed by Mr. Ashton, and ho had also left some receipts which Mr. Ashton put on the mantelpiece—that was the first time he said anything about having a cheque signed by Mr. Ashton—the last four cheques on the private account were not the last four that were drawn; when they were on the mill account he put "Mill" on them.
By the COURT These are all on the mill account—this is the stamp we used to put on—I stamped all mill account cheques, and if they were riot stamped they went to the private account—I never saw any cheque with "private account" written on it—I never saw him sign a cheque "B. Ashton.
Cross-examined. Every time a cheque-book was required the cheque had to be taken from the mill—three of these cheques were signed on Christmas Day—when he asked me if I found any papers to give them to him I knew he was asking me to do something wrong—that was in July,
1890—I had a rise of wages in the beginning of that year; my wages were 18s., they are now 24s.—I am now in Mr. Burchardt Ashton's service; he used to call himself the manager—Howe did a deal of business for him.
WILLIAM HENRY COOK . I am employed by Mr. Burchardt Ashton at Pole Bank—I was at the mill there towards the end of old Mr. Benjamin Ashton's life—I used to go to Pole Bank from time to time in order that he might consult me on the house business, during the last six months of his life—he was very weak and poorly for some time before his death—I was present when Swinfen was there and cheques were drawn—he signed the cheques with Mr. Swinfen's assistance—I was called at the Civil Court—I was familiar with the writing of Mr. Benjamin Ashton—I was present on 4th March at Hackthorne Villas, Pole Bank when the prisoner and Swinfen were there—I have heard Swinfen's evidence, he has correctly described the conversation—I do not remember any interview after that when the prisoner was present—I am familiar with Mr. Benjamin Ashton's writing; this cheque is not his writing.
Cross-examined. It is not like he signed lately—I did not see him sign it, and cannot swear to it—it is something similar to his signature, strongly similar—I only know through rumour that Mr. Ashton had relations with a French lady; not from the prisoner, but in the neighbourhood—I saw an advertisement in a paper connected with that Lady—I might have told somebody that she was dead and would not turn up; something was said about her, but I do not remember the conversation—I cannot say whether the impression on my mind was that she was dead—I am a distant connection of the Ashtons—there were other inkpots in the house besides those in the study, but not in use.
Re-examined. I heard these rumours ten or twelve years ago—the advertisement was last year.
PHILIP MADDOCK . I live at 175, New Land, Stockport—I was in Mr. Burchardt Ashton's service, and left on March 19th—I was employed by the late Benjamin Ashton from July, 1889, doing first some outdoor work for him for a day or two, some piece-work—he then engaged me as his personal attendant—I did not sleep in the house, but I was there all day up to 6.30—that arrangement continued down to his death—he was very ill for a short time before his death; his hand was so stiff that he could not feed himself, and I used to feed him—on 21st December, the Saturday before he died, he was very ill in bed, and Dr. Tinker was sent for, but could not come—he had taken to his bed on the Wednesday or Thursday before that Saturday, and he was worse on Saturday—I left him in bed at 1.30, and did not go on Sunday—I went back on Monday morning and he was worse still—on that day Br. Tinker came—I did not see the prisoner-at Pole Bank on the Saturday before I left that I remember, nor on the Monday, or on Tuesday, the 24th; but I saw him there on the Wednesday, Christmas Day, in the drawing-room first, then in the hall, and then he came into Mr. Ashton's room, which he had made into a bedroom—he was in bed—he died on the 26th at 6 a.m.—I was there when he died—the prisoner came there on the day of the funeral, and I did not see him afterwards—on March 5th there was a sale at Apethorne Mill—I met the prisoner there—he said, "I was just coming up to your house, I want you to write a bit of a note for me"—I said, "Well,
I am not turning back now "—he said, "Oh it will do at any time "—we parted; I was going to the mill, and he was coming out—I next saw him on 12th March at Trianon, that is another mill—there was a sale there; he said, "I forgot to come up; I will come at the first opportunity "—I was then living at Pole Bank—I next saw him on 19 March at Woodley Mill, which was another of Mr. Ashton's mills; he said he would come up at the first opportunity, and we went and had a drink—I saw him next on the Monday afterwards, the 24th, at Pole Bank; I let him in, and we went into the drawing-room—he said, "Have you ever wrote me a note like this?" I said "Let us have a look at it"—he showed me something, and I said "No"—he said, "If you will write me this it will be a good thing for you"; I said, "It would not be right for Mr. Burchardt," he said, "I will make it all right"; and then I wrote it—this is it (produced); he supplied the paper, it was blue paper, similar to this—this is what I copied it from—he said it was an old envelope of Mr. Ashton's—after I had written it he said, "If I get it I will give you something," and picked the papers up, this one, and the one he Drought, and took them away, and I left—on 14th May Mr. Sharpe paid me a visit at Colebatch, and questioned me—I believe I made a statement to him—I went to London towards the end of October or the beginning of November, and went to Mr. Sharpe's; I was sent for and made a statement to him—after that, in November, I received a letter from Mr. Jowett's office, and went to him at Stockport—I saw him alone first, the prisoner had not arrived—he asked me some questions, and showed me a document; he wrote my statement down, and went out and brought in the prisoner and read my statement to him—it was the statement which I have made here—the prisoner contradicted that I wrote the note by his direction, he said that I wrote it, and brought it down to his house; but I said I had only brought one into the house in my life, which was a note relating to the sale of the Essex farm—Mr. Jowett asked me what my expenses were—I said, "Fivepence," and he paid me—that was my railway fare from Woodley to Stockport—as I went down the street Mr. Howe followed me, and asked me what I had been and told him that for—I said, "Simply to tell the truth, and you know it"—he said, "Well, it won't do for you to go and tell them fellows that," and asked me to go back to Mr. Jowett's office and contradict my evidence—I said, 'No, I have given my evidence, and it won't do for me to go and tell two different tales"—he said, "They are not supposed to know how many notes you brought down; you are throwing me many a hundred pounds away "—I said, "Well, I can't help that"—he said, "You are just the man that can help it"—I said, "How?"—he said, "By going and contradicting your statement"—I said, "Well, I am not going to do it"—we then parted—that was at the end of November, and the next I saw of him was at the Court in London in 1891, when I gave evidence for the defence.
Cross-examined. When I wrote that document I was caretaker for the estate, acting in the interests of Mr. Burchardt, looking after the house—I made this note in his interest.
Re-examined. I was appointed caretaker immediately after Mr. Ashton's death, and remained so during January, February, and March, and down to March this year, when I left of my own accord.
By the JURY. I wrote one letter for Mr. B. Ashton; it was to Mr. Walton, a gentleman friend—I took one letter to the prisoner; that was
in reference to the purchase of the Essex farm—this document was not in reference to the purchase of the Essex farm; that was early in the morning after the sale, and he told me to take my pocket-book and write it down, but while I was writing he called Mr. Swinfen, and we both wrote it, a portion each, and I took it down, and Mr. Howe said he was coming up; that was the only note I received—I signed the note for Mr. Ashton; I had done so before; when anything came from the railway station, I signed for the carman.
GEORGE LINGARD VAUGHAN . I am a solicitor, of Stockport—I have known the prisoner since 1881—on Monday, March 2nd, 1891,1 was going towards the Teviotdale Station at Stockport, at 9.40 p.m. by the outside clock, and met the prisoner—I spoke to him; he turned back with me and went to the station, and had some conversation in the dining-room, in reference to an action I had brought against him for a client of mine for £300; the conversation lasted ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, and then I mentioned the case of Howe v. Burchardt—I had seen a report in the evening paper of what took place in the High Court, and told him it looked very black against him—he said it would be all right when Mr. Willis, his counsel, had replied, and I should see it in a very different light—I then said I had heard about the French lady nearly twenty years since, from a gentleman who knew Mr. Ashton very well; that Mr. Ashton had a woman whom he kept in France, and that was the only extravagant thing he did; and when he went to France he dressed in a proper way—(he used to wear clogs at home and fasten his buttons with a piece of string)—I got up to leave, and he said, "Have you got a promissory note of about 1887 or 1888 that you could let me have? "—I said, "No"—he said, "By Gosh, if I could get one I would get it signed and do them another"—we then parted, and he arranged to meet me next morning at my office in relation to the action I had brought against him—he called there at 9.30 a.m. and said, "I cannot stop now, I have just received a telegram saying they have found the note"; he said he would call again—I said I was going to Manchester and could not see him if he did—he met me in Manchester on the Tuesday in reference to my client's action, and after we had talked over the business matters' he said that they had found the note, and it was dated 1888, and the stamp on it was 1882, and he had telegraphed to London that they had found it, and he had given it to his lad to send off—I said I was very glad if he had found it—I made a note of the conversation at the time.
Cross-examined. I made the note at Manchester, but not of the conversation of the previous day—Howe owed my client £300 and interest—the only security I had was a promissory note with an agreement to execute a mortgage—we discussed whether he should execute a bill of sale or not—nothing was said about cancelling the original promissory note which I had—by far the greater part of the conversation was about my client's affairs which he was mixed up with—I have known him to speak to since 1881, but I have known him by sight more than that—he told me he began life as a porter at a railway station, and worked himself up to stationmaster, and then became a coal-merchant—he is a respectable hard working man.
Re-examined. The £300 was advanced on September 27th, 1889, and
although it was due on demand, there was an agreement that he should not press for payment within twelve months—Thomas Claridge advanced it.
A. J. HARROP (Re-examined). This return (produced) was made to the Commissioner of Inland Revenue—it relates to the bank of which I am manager, and goes to the end of last year—this (produced) is a certified copy of the prisoner's banking account, taken from one of the bank-books—I have compared it with the original, and it a correct copy—on 19th March his account was credit £33 11s. 6d.; on 2nd December, 1889, it was considerably overdrawn—he spoke to me in December, 1888, about his overdrawing for £300, and I said the bank would permit it if he gave security or a guarantee—he afterwards came and said that Mr. Benjamin Ashton, of Pole Bank, would guarantee him £300, and a few days afterwards Mr. Ashton brought the guarantee signed—it had been sent to him to look over—the account then commenced to be overdrawn, and in December, 1889, it was overdrawn to the full extent of the guarantee and over it—on November 15 a second guarantee was given for £900, and the prisoner continued to operate on the account down to December,. 1889, when he was overdrawn again, including a small sum for interest and commission—on 27th December I saw the prisoner at the bank; I had seen Mr. Ashton's death in the morning paper—the prisoner came into my private-room, and said, "Mr. Ashton is dead"—I said, "I am aware of it; you are aware this account will have to be stopped; we will open a fresh account to enable you to carry on your business; nothing can be done till the will is proved, and we know who the executors are "—he produced this paying-in slip ready made out which he brought with him, dated December 21st, with the amount paid in as shown here, and a fresh account was opened with us for £45 2s. 8d.—there was a single cheque attached to it—he produced no other cheque or paying in slip—I first saw this paying-in slip (another) at Bow Street Police court in April, 1891—at the end of February I met the prisoner in the street; I think I asked him how he was getting on with Mr. Ashton's affairs, referring to the balance owing to the bank—he said something about some claim, or some payment, Mr. Ashton had made him, for settling a railway claim—I said, "Have you any sort of proof that you could satisfy the executors with? "—he said, "I have a cheque of the late Mr. Ashton's for well over £1,000 "—the first I saw of the cheque for £1,375 was at the end of 1890; Mr. Jowett showed it to me—£265 was paid in on December 27th, 1889, the very same day, and operated upon.
WILLIAM CROTHURST . I am a clerk in the Hyde branch of the Manchester and Liverpool Banking Company, Limited—I produce an examined copy of Mr. Benjamin Ashton's banking account from March 1st, 1888, to February 14th, 1890, which I have taken from the bank books; I have compared it with the original—the credit balance on 19th March, 1888, was £989 14s. 9d. on the private account: I have not got the mill account here—on 19th December, 1888, the balance was £4,399 19s. 10d., and on December 2nd, 1889, £6,460 16s. 7d.
Cross-examined. The entries in the pass-book are mine—the balance at the end of 1887 was £180.
case were placed before me to form an opinion upon them—the first was a photograph of the cheque of the 23rd December, 1889, 50,389, and a pencil memorandum on an envelope, as well as the contents of the envelope, a photograph of the conclusion of a letter said to have been dated January 26th, 1889, and the admitted writing of the late Benjamin Ashton; also eleven cheques dated between January and December, 1889, all purporting to be signed by Benjamin Ashton, some with and some without assistance, but the balance of them with—I also had thirty-five other cheques from November to December, 1889; sixty-seven in all, and a bundle of ten letters, and a post-card admittedly in the prisoner's writing, and my opinion confidently is that the cheque of 23rd December, 1889, is in Mr. Howe's writing:, and not Mr. Ashton's—the disputed signature has only the initial "B" for Benjamin, and Mr. Ashton signed his name in full on all the cheques except one.
By the COURT. I compared it with sixty-five signatures, but I found a difference in some of them because he was assisted—the signature on the cheque of April 4th, 1889, is the first shaky one; it is signed Benjamin, and on April 9th the instruction for the codicil is also signed Benjamin—those two are shaky, but appear to have been written without assistance—in the six following cheques his hand was guided by Frederick Swinfen, and they all have "Benj.," not "B" only; here are forty-one cheques preceding the disputed one where the signature has been guided, and all have "Benj. "(The witness handed the documents to the Jury, and pointed out the points of similarity between the prisoner's admitted writing and the cheque.)—in my opinion the writer of the signature must have had the actual copy before him—I believe Mr. Howe wrote the cheque; that is only my opinion. (Pointing out particulars in the letters "B," "s," and "n," the last stroke of the "n" being always imperfectly formed in the prisoner's writing.)—that was not a characteristic of the deceased, but it appears in the signature of 26th January, 1889—in the assisted signatures I did not find the prevailing characteristics of the old man's writing as when he wrote unassisted—if a person holds your hand and writes your signature, it will bear some of the characteristics of the-person who holds your hand—I have formed the opinion, from the documents before me, that the endorsement, the memorandum outside the envelope, and the memorandum inside are not in the writing of the deceased Benjamin Ashton—this "T" is like the "T" in "Turner," this "H" in "Howe" is like a "T," and the long dash after the "e." agrees with that in Howe in signature No. 1—I am comparing them with undisputed samples of Howe's writing—the "P" in "Private" on the pencil memorandum finishes just in the same way as that in Parkhurst, Page, and Parker—the finish of the "P" in "Private "on the envelope is just the same; there is just a loop and a down stroke, and the "B" in "Bills" in the pencil writing agrees with the "B" in "Barns" in Howe's writing. (Pointing other similarities to the Jury.)
Cross-examined. This is a very skilled imitation—I have only got the photographs here, and one is smaller than the other, and there is a difference in the angle, because there was a line to write on in one case—the "s" in "Ashton" by Howe is exactly the same as the "s" in the cheque—in those two instances Mr. Ashton and the prisoner did write alike—there is a similarity between the "a "in 375 and the "3 "at the top
of the cheque, but these are not my points—the "3" in 23 and the "3" in the memorandum are not totally distinct—in the "23" in the memorandum there is a little stroke before the "3" begins, and it is there in the other, but it is very faint; one is done with pencil and one with ink—7 is usually made by one operation of the pen, but in this "1375 "the pen has been lifted at the bottom of the first down stroke of the 7—you can scarcely tell that the 5 in the memorandum is a 5; it is totally distinct from the 5 in the cheque.
Re-examined. The 3 in the first instance appears to have been finished with a pen which was not full, and in the second with a pen which was full.
By the JURY. Any one not a skilled penman could have committed this forgery; it would not be very difficult—the man who wrote the body of the cheque could have written the signature or copied it.
MR. CLINTON. This, "Received B. Ashton," is in the writing of the late Mr. Ashton.
Cross-examined. These entries, £19 17s. 6d. and £7 10s. 6d., are in Mr. Aaron Stopholn's writing.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLTFT . I have been an expert in handwriting A great many years—I have had these documents placed before me, and agree with the conclusions Mr. Inglis has come to—I wrote a report to that effect.
Cross-examined. I had the opportunity of examining the original with a magnifying-glass, and I believe it has been traced by holding it up to a window—the "B" in "B. Ashton" is larger than the original because it has been improperly inked over; desiring to make it the same he made it different—I call it a very good forgery, not requiring a certain amount of practice—a man who is comparatively ignorant, a porter in a station could do that if he had a copy before him; he would make a servile copy—Justice Wills pointed out that the figure 7 was done by two operations of the pen, which Mr. Ashton did not do—this "7" in "1375" is made first by a stroke so, and then so, not by lifting the pen—Mr. Inglis and I do not differ about that, he and I do not generally oppose each other, but we have frequently done so.
CHARLES RICHARDS (Police Inspector). I arrested the prisoner in Cheshire, and told him I had two warrants for him—he said, "I am quite ready to so with you, I am rather glad you are come, as the case will now be cleared up."
GUILTY .— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July 7th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. FULTON and MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
MARY ANN SMITH . I am a domestic servant, and live at 11, Woolman Street, Poplar—I work at 64, Crisp Street—I have known the prisoner eighteen months, and some time ago I desired to cease keeping company with him—on 19th May, about 7.45 a.m., I was going to work and he came up and asked me what time I should get away from my work, and
said, "If you slip another man you won't slip me," and stabbed me on the lower part of my left arm—I did not see what he had in his hand—he went away; I was taken to the hospital and gave information to the police.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, You had threatened to put a knife into me on the Saturday, and I told you I meant to give you up.
HENRY LEE (K 312). On 20th May, about 12.40 a.m., Smith gave me information, and I went with Harrod to 5, St. Leonard's Cottages, where the prisoner lodged, and found him on the bed partly dressed; I told him I was a constable, and it would be necessary for him to go to the station on a charge of wounding Mary Ann Smith—he said, "I will see you two b—first before you will take me"—we closed with him, and Harrod said, "Look out, mate, there is something coming"—I heard the report of a revolver, and the smoke passed quite close to my face—there was no lamp in the room—I was shot through my overcoat, tunic, waistcoat, and brace buckle, but no injury was done to me—my wife found the ball on the floor—I was so close to him that the revolver burnt the cloth of my coat; I had hold of him—he was secured, taken to the station, and charged.
WALTER HARROD (K 142). I was with Lee—the prisoner was lying on the bed—Lee said, "I shall want you to come to the station with me on a charge of stabbing Mary Ann Smith yesterday morning "—he said, "I shall not go, and you two b—s won't take me "—that conversation took place at the window, and then I went to the door and took hold of him—I saw something glisten, his arm came forward, and I saw a flash—I seized the revolver and took it from him; five chambers were loaded, and one recently discharged.
GEORGE KING (Police-Inspector K). On 20th May the prisoner was charged before me with shooting the constable, with intent to murder him, and resist his lawful apprehension—I cautioned him; he said, "It is all bosh what you are reading to me; it only goes in at one ear and out at the other "—he looked at the prosecutor, and said, "You l----wh----, I wish I had put two bullets through you, and then you would not be here "—he was excited, but not from drink.
Prisoner's Defence. I do not remember anything about the shooting.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted.
THOMAS GEORGE STACEY . I am relieving officer for the Parish of Limehouse—the prisoner has been confined in Banstead Lunatic Asylum, and was discharged on December 26th—I produce a duplicate of the certificate under which he was confined, and the order of the Magistrate—on May 21st, at 1.30 a.m., I went with two constables in uniform to 3, Duke Street, Limehouse, where the prisoner lived—his son opened the door, and I saw the prisoner in the passage fully-dressed—I said, "Mr. Little-wort?"—he said, "Yes"—he had seen me before; I don't know whether he knew me—I said, "May we come inside?"—he said, "Yes"—the constables followed me in—the prisoner assumed an offensive attitude, fumbled in his outer pocket, and said, "I have something here for you "—I said, "Look out," and the constables seized him and struggled with
him—we were all in the ground floor front room at that time—he placed himself in a sitting position on the bed, and said, "Let me go, or I will seize you"—I then saw a flash, heard a report, and Huston called out—the prisoner was overpowered, and taken to the station.
BENJAMIN MUSTON (. H 408). On 20th May I went with Stacey to the prisoner's house; I followed him in and saw the prisoner in the front room near the mantelpiece—he pushed his daughter on one side and put his hand to his right side, I rushed forward and seized a revolver and held it down, and we all three fell into a sitting position on the bed—he said, "Let me go or I will shoot you, "and I no sooner heard that than I heard the report and saw the flash, and was struck in my left thigh—I called out, "Strike him down"—he was struck on the head by P. C. 436—I continued to struggle till we got the revolver from him—he was taken to the station and I to the hospital on the police ambulance—I was an in-patient for a week.
By the JURY. Before the revolver was fired, two of us had hold of the prisoner and he was grasping the trigger; we held the pistol down—this bullet (produced) fell from my trousers at the hospital.
FREDERICK GASBEE (H 421). I went to the prisoner's house with the other officers—by the time I got in the prisoner was in the front room—Muston seized him, and shortly afterwards I saw him raise a revolver in his right hand—he said, "Let me go or I will shoot you"—he fired, and I seized the muzzle and put my finger behind the trigger, under the guard, to prevent his firing again, as his finger was on it—Muston said, "Strike him," or "Down with him," and Welch struck him on the head, and then we overpowered him—his brother had communicated with me, which led me to go to the relieving officer.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When the shot was fired we were in a stooping position towards the bed; I cannot say whether we were sitting—the pistol was fired before it got to your knees; I had hold of it, pointing it to the ground—I declined to say at the Police-court that the discharge was not occasioned by my pulling it from you.
Re-examined. My hand was not on the trigger—the prisoner was still pulling at the trigger after he had fired it, trying to fire it again.
GEORGE DIXON (Police Inspector H.) I was on duty at the station when the prisoner was brought in—Godfrey handed me this five-chambered revolver; it was still loaded in four chambers, and the cartridge had exploded—I charged him with feloniously wounding the constable and causing grievous bodily harm—he said, "I was in my house, I don't make a denial of it, and I am very sorry for it; he is a perfect stranger to me and never did me any harm; I hope he will soon recover from it; I am a little injured myself "—I said, "Yes, that was after you had shot him "—he said, "I fancy it was beforehand; I was struck from behind; I was sitting on the edge of my bed and the pistol was between my knees and it went off; it was a regular scrimmage "—I said, pointing to Godfrey, "This constable says you said, 'I will shoot you' "—the prisoner said, "I don't think I spoke at all; I scarcely have any recollection; a rush was made into my bedroom and I was seized"—the prisoner was examined by Dr. Hersh—seven ball cartridges were handed to me corresponding exactly with those found in the revolver, and one similar one on the prisoner.
at the top of his left thigh, such as might be produced by a bullet—a bullet dropped from his clothes—he was only in the hospital four days—he is well now.
CHARLES HERSH . I am a registered medical practitioner, and was assistant to the divisional surgeon of police at that time—by the inspector's request I examined the prisoner on 20th May about 2.15 a.m.—Mr. Stacey was there—I came to the conclusion that the prisoner is a person of unsound mind, and filled up the necessary forms for his removal to the workhouse as a lunatic.
PHILIP F. GILBERT . I am medical officer of the prison where the prisoner has been confined; he has been under my observation since 21st May, and I have examined him to test his sanity—in my opinion he is insane; he has a fixed delusion that his wife is unfaithful to him; he tells me that a man named Tupper used to visit her in the morning when he was asleep, and have connection with her in the w. c. in the back-yard—I have seen his mother and daughter and brothers, who say there is no truth in it whatever.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that, finding himself attacked in the night, he seized the pistol, which exploded in the struggle.— GUILTY of the act, but irresponsible on the ground of insanity.—To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 8th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. AVORY and PAUL TAYLOR Prosecuted.
The evidence is unfit for publication.
WATERS— GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour . GRIFFITHS— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted.
THOMAS HENRY HARRISON . I am a tobacconist, of 8, Market Place, Leyton—about half-past four a.m. on 2nd June I was awakened by the barking of the dog, and immediately afterwards a thud like the dropping of a box—I jumped out of bed, and ran downstairs; looked round and saw the revolving shutters had been prized up and the window of the shop broken about two or three feet, and some one had his arm through the window and was in the act of handing out a box of cigars to someone outside—
the prisoner was one of the men; I saw his face; I was within three feet of him—I jumped over the counter, opened the door and ran out—they ran away; one of the boxes of cigars and this pipe were dropped—I returned and picked them up, and dressed, and went to the Police-station and gave notice there—I heard a police whistle blown just before I started to go to the station—on my way to the station I picked up this tin advertisement which came from my window—when I returned home from the station I found a policeman at my door with these two boxes of cigars—I went back to the station, saw the prisoner in custody, and. charged him—these goods are my property; the value of all they took was from £4 to £5.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have no doubt that you are one of the men—I said at first you were not the one; I had a doubt, and said I would not identify you till I was sure—when I first went into the station you were sitting in a corner, on a stool, with a long coat drawn up, and it gave you a different appearance; but when you stood I saw you were the man—I described you fully to the police—I did not say I saw someone run away, but that you were not the man.
JOHN OLIVER (J 209). I was on duty on the morning of 2nd June, in Grove Green Road, about twenty minutes to five—I saw the prisoner and another man come out of Francis Road, and turn into Grove Green Road—as soon as they saw me they turned back; I ran. quickly to the corner to watch them; they separated—noticing that the prisoner looked bulky, I followed—when he turned and saw me following he began to run—I blew my whistle, and ran after him—after chasing him a considerable distance, he threw this box over a fence into a field—he ran a little further and threw this box into the cemetery—I continued to follow him, blowing my whistle, till Sergeant Tufnell stopped him—after he was charged I went back and found this box and twenty-three cigars in the field, and this box with fourteen cigars in the cemetery—they were shown to the prosecutor, and identified.
Cross-examined. The man who left you was dressed in dark clothes, and was a trifle taller than you.
SAMUEL TUFNELL (Sergeant J 17). About a quarter to five on Tuesday, 2nd June, I was on duty in Birkbeck Road, Leytonstone, and met the prisoner hurrying round the corner of the Birkbeck Tavern out of Union Road—having just heard a policeman's whistle, I stopped him; in his struggle to get away, this box with six cigars fell out from under his coat—when I and another constable were taking him to the station we passed the prosecutor's shop—the window was broken—I found this piece of brick inside the window, among the boxes of cigars—at the station fifty-eight cigars were found in the prisoner's pocket.
Cross-examined. My face came in contact with the wall in some way; you struggled to get away—this is the box of cigars that dropped from you.
FREDERICK GEARY (Sub-Inspector J). On Monday, 2nd June, I was in charge of the station—the prosecutor came and made a complaint, and shortly after the prisoner was brought in—the prosecutor afterwards charged him with stealing the cigars, and identified him at the station—I examined the shop window; it had been broken, apparently with this, brick—the hole made was large enough for the prisoner to put his head
and shoulders in—the prisoner, when charged, said, "I had them given. to me. "
Cross-examined. The sergeant brought the brick to the station—Harrison said at first you were not the man, but after you had stood up he identified you—you applied to me, and I said that was not the place to argue the point.
The Prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said he met a man, who told him he had dropped a box of cigars, and asked him to carry them for him; that he helped to pick them up, and carried the box under his coat, because the man told him to do so.
GUILTY *.— Six Months' Hard Labour .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. CHAS. MATHEWS AND BODKIN Prosecuted.
ELIZA GREYSTONE . I am the deputy at a lodging-house, 10, Ropeyard Rails, Woolwich—on 26th May, about eight in the evening, an oldish woman named Ann Finlay came there, and engaged and paid for a bed-room, a double room—she had a handkerchief tied round her head—I did. not notice any wounds, marks, or scratches on her face—she went to sleep in the kitchen for two or three hours—about eleven I was showing her up to her bedroom; when we got nearly to the top the prisoner came up from the kitchen and stood in her way—I did not know him before—I asked him to get out of the way; he moved away, and as we went on he rushed past me and knocked her down—she fell fiat down on the stairs—I picked her up, and she went up to her bedroom; the prisoner followed her—I saw nothing more till a quarter to eight next morning, when I saw the old woman in the kitchen—her face was covered with blood, and there was a great wound on the right side of her forehead—her hands were very much cut about and bleeding—Mrs. Hurley attended to her, and bathed her face and hands—she did not remain in the kitchen very long; after that she was taken away—about half-past ten the prisoner came into the kitchen—I asked him what he had been knocking the old woman about for—he made no reply—he told me he would pay me for washing the sheets, and went out—I afterwards went up to the room they had occupied—I saw that water had been spilt on the floor, and the sheets and pillows were stained with blood—there were some matches in the bed, also stained with blood, and the bed itself very much stained with blood—I took them downstairs, and they were afterwards given to the police—the matches had stuck to the bed where the blood was; they were clean the night before—about a quarter to twelve I again saw the prisoner as he was going upstairs—I asked him where he was going—he said, "I am seeking for my wife"—I said, "There is no one up there "—he did not go up—shortly afterwards a constable came and took him into custody.
ELLEN HURLEY . I am the wife of Michael Hurley, lodging at 10, Ropeyard Rails—on the evening of 26th May I saw the old woman Ann Finlay in the kitchen; she went to sleep there—I went to bed about a. quarter or half-past twelve—as I was going up the stairs I saw the
prisoner on the landing, he had a candle in his hand—I said, "Are you looking for your wife?"—he said, "She is a better woman than ever you will be"—I advised him to go to bed and say no more—I heard him come up at half-past twelve and go into his room and abuse his wife; she was crying for a candle; I gave her one—at half-past one, when I was in bed, I heard him beating into her; after he abused her, he said, "You ought to be down at Epsom Races----, by the lords and dukes and earls, the same as you have been all your life, and your people before you"—I heard him beating into her with his fist, and it ended about half-past three—he said, "Don't make a noise, because of the lodgers; let them go to sleep"—I asked him what he was doing to his wife, and would he leave her alone—he said if he knew where my bed-room was he would get me outside and do for me what he was doing to his wife—he said that from his room—after that I heard him come out of his room; he had an instrument of some sort, I don't know what it was, and he beat it over two lodgers' doors, and asked them to come out, and he would do the same to them—I don't think it was a boot he had—I only heard him beat her with his fist; after three he was quiet, she told him to go to sleep—he was quiet till five, and from five till half-past six he was beating her again; I heard the blows—I did not hear her say anything, she could hardly call out, she was so exhausted from the beating—I heard him say he was going out to get half a pint of beer for himself—at half-past six I met her coming downstairs with great difficulty—I led her down to the kitchen—her hands were very much gashed, and bleeding—I washed and cleaned her; a handkerchief was tied round her forehead; I took it off and found a very deep wound there; it was bleeding freshly; that was not done that night; she had a binder on when she came in—there was another bruise on the other side of her face, and her hands were all bruised—I sent for a policeman, but could not find one—I took her to the station, and gave her to the Sergeant, and she was taken to the Infirmary.
Prisoner. She is telling terrible falsehoods; the only time I struck her was once a backhanded blow with my slipper, and once in bed with any bare hand.
FANNY TUCKIE . I am single—on the night of 26th May I saw the deceased asleep in the kitchen of the lodging-house—about eleven I went up to bed, leaving her downstairs—I slept in the next room—I went to sleep, and was awoke by the woman halloing out "Murder!"—I heard the prisoner jawing her—I heard him say, "If your name had not been the same as my first wife I would have killed you long ago "—I heard him come out of the room on to the landing and knocking at the doors, and saying, "If anybody comes out here I will serve them all the same," and then he went back to his room—after that they were quiet for a time, and I went to sleep again—I was awoke again by his halloing at her and swearing; that went on a tidy while—I did not go to sleep any more—I heard blows when I was getting up, about eigh the was going on the landing, and he turned back and hit her, and then went straight downstairs—I was afterwards sent for a policeman, and was there when the prisoner was arrested.
Cross-examined. I did not see you strike her, but I heard you.
was with her—her face was covered with blood, and she had a number of bruises on her hands—I took her to the station to have her wounds dressed, and afterwards took her to the Infirmary.
RICHARD NORTON (R). On 27th May, about quarter to twelve, I went to the lodging-house and saw the prisoner—Mrs. White said, "I give this man in charge for insulting a woman "—I told him I should take him to the station—he said, "I own I gave her a shove and a backhanded slap or two"—I took him to the station and charged him—he made the same answer; his left boot was wet as if it had been washed.
GEORGE BRENCHLEY (Sergeant R R). I was on duty at the station when the prisoner was brought in and charged with assaulting Ann Finlay, who had then been taken to the Infirmary, with a boot—he said, "I deny that; I admit I gave her a shove and a backhanded slap or two"—his left boot was wet; it appeared to have been washed; there was a quantity of dry blood on the top and side of his head—I had on several occasions seen him and the deceased together.
MARY ANN RANDALL . I am the wife of Charles Henry Bandall, a general dealer—Ann Finlay was my mother—I last saw her alive about two years ago; I identified her body after death—she was a little over seventy.
SIDNEY WORTHINGTON . I am divisional surgeon at Woolwich—on the morning of the 27th May I saw the deceased at the station, and examined her—on her face was some dry blood from an ulcerated surface over the left eye; it had been bleeding recently; it was of a cancerous description—the blood had come from recent violence done to the wound—there were several recent bruises, and two or three scratch marks on the left cheek—the backs of both hands were recently bruised—there were abrasions and bruises on the back of both wrists, such as would be caused by some blunt instrument—I think a boot might have done it—I at once ordered her to be taken to the Infirmary.
THOMAS EDMUND WRIGHT . I am assistant medical officer at Woolwich Infirmary; I was there on the morning of 27th May about eleven, when the deceased was brought there in a state of collapse—there were a great many marks of external violence—there was an old ulcer over the left eyebrow of a cancerous character, both wrists were contused and wounded—on the upper parts of both arms and on the upper part of the right hand there was bruising, and on the entire left side of the face; the injuries were recent, within twelve hours—she slightly rallied, but died on 31st—on 1st June I made a post-mortem—there was the existence of heart disease and bronchitis—in my opinion those were the cause of death, accelerated by the injuries received—considerable violence must have been used in the infliction of those injuries, a fist alone would not have caused them; a boot might have caused all of them.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I came to this town from Deptford; she came from Champion Hill, where she had been in the Infirmary six or seven weeks. She complained of bronchitis and abscess, and she was in Plumstead Infirmary three or four weeks. In the morning when we got up after we had had this little bother I said, 'What will you do?'—she said, 'I will go to this hospital here, after I have had a cup of tea.' I gave her 2d. and went out, and when I came back I was given into custody."
Prisoner's Defence. It was a little aggravation on both our parts—we
had had several pints of beer coming from Deptford, and she began, talking about my having drink in the bedroom, and I might have given her a backhanded slap in the face; if it had not been for the drink I should not have done it; I did not knock her about, she was not worth knocking about, I always hit her with my billy-cock hat instead of my hand. She was a drunkard. I am truly sorry I am in such a position; I had known her upwards of thirty-six years; I never knocked her about in my life, only this last performance.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
MR. DRUMMOND Prosecuted.
EDWARD LEWIS SMITH . I live at Coombe Farm, East Greenwich—I am a market gardener—I have known the prisoner seventeen or eighteen years—I have employed him many years—he left my employment two years ago—on Monday, 15th June, about 2.15 p.m., he came to my shed and asked for employment—I told him I could not employ him—he said, "You made it rather rough for me when I was in Australia"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "You have been writing to Sadler and Miller"—I said, "Who are Sadler and Miller?"—he said, "You know all about it"—I said, "I do not understand you; you must be mad"—he abused me, used bad language, and became threatening in manner—in consequence of that I said, "I shall go and fetch a policeman; you are not fit to be at large "—I went out of my shed, followed by the prisoner—I saw a policeman in the Ferndale Road, standing at the corner of the new police-station—I beckoned, and he came to me—we followed the prisoner, who had gone on in. front—when we got within three or four yards of him he turned suddenly, produced this revolver, and fired two shots at me and the policeman—he took too high an elevation and fired over our heads wildly—he looked wild in his eyes, and seemed very excited—I was afraid of him in the shed, because I believed him to be insane, because of this letter I had received from him. (The letter was from the Coffee Palace, King Street, Melbourne, of September 2nd, and complained of not having seen Annie Smart, and stated the writer was coming by steamer to England in the name of J. Mason, as some treachery was going on with "Sadler and Miller," and "Boss" seemed frightened when he inquired about Annie Smart, whom he thought had been married for her £300, the letter ending, "Excuse scribble, as lam bad")—Smart had £200 left her under my uncle's will—I was his executor—the prisoner knew of that when he left for Australia three or four years ago—"Boss" is Sadler or Miller, or both—the prisoner was taken to the station and charged—the prisoner's name is not mentioned in the will.
THOMAS CASEY (B R 138). About 2.15 p.m. on 15th June I was on reserve duty at the Ferndale Road Police-station—I was running after the prisoner, and when within three or four yards he turned suddenly round, drew this revolver from his outside pocket, and presented it first at Smith, who was on my left, about three feet behind me—the revolver was elevated—then he put the revolver towards me, the position being rather lower—he aimed at my hip—I rushed at him, caught his hand,
got the revolver away, and threw him down—with the assistance of two private individuals I took him to the station—these two individuals saw the firing.
THOMAS JACKSON . I am a meat-carrier, of 9, Hackliffe Street, Greenwich—I saw the prisoner take the revolver out of his right-hand pocket and fire at Smith and the constable, not over their heads, a little on one side of the constable—he did not want to hit him I suppose, but he must have had some intention or he would not have let it off. NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.— NOT GUILTY . He was also indicted for a common assault on the same persons, and upon his brother promising to look after him, was bound over in his own recognisances of £25 to appear to answer same.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
JOHN EERGUSSON . I am boatswain on the steamship Astrea she went away on the 14th—on Sunday, 14th June, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I was in Beresford Street, Woolwich, at the water side, and was going across to my ship; I had had a glass or two, but was not drunk—I thought there were three men behind me, but I am told there were four; they seized me with a tight grip, threw me to the ground, and got my watch and ten or twelve shillings; a gentleman sang out and they ran away—the gentleman took me to the station—I was excited and very nearly done for—the prisoner was afterwards brought to the station; I was not able to identify him at the time, but I have no doubt now.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say you were not one of the men—there was nothing conspicuous about you.
THOMAS ARMSTRONG . I am an engineer of 92, Wellington Street, Woolwich—on June 14th, between 12 and 1, I was going down Beresford Street, and saw four men whispering outside the Music Hall; I knew them, they proceeded about twenty yards and then stopped and whispered again—the prosecutor crossed the road a few yards ahead of them with a soldier, who walked with him twenty or twenty-five yards—the four men went over to the prosecutor, and the prisoner said, "God blind me, do you want to fight?" putting himself in a fighting attitude and hustling him, and the other three closed in by the lamppost, and the prisoner held the prosecutor with his left hand and gripped his throat with his right hand—the two taller men helped themselves to the prosecutor's watch and guard, and took everything out of his pockets while he was on his hands and knees—I bared well in, but seeing the soldier ahead I thought it was a get up for me, and I shouted out and they ran away—the prosecutor was dazed; I pinched his arm and shook him, and said, "Pick yourself together, my man, I will stick to you," and insisted on the soldier coming back—I gave a description of the prisoner at the station—I had known
him by sight for many a month—he was afterwards brought to the station, and I recognised him instantly, and said, "That is the man," and he commenced to blackguard me.
Cross-examined. I have known you about three months by sight, passing you many times—I have seen you in the Salutation and in different parts—I have passed you hundreds of times.
JOHN PATTERSON . I am a gunner in the Royal Artillery, "Woolwich—on 14th June, about 12.30, I was in Beresford Street, saw the prosecutor and spoke to him, and walked twenty yards with him—I walked on twenty or thirty yards when I heard a noise; Mr. Armstrong spoke to me, and I went back—the prisoner was put in a row before me and I could not identify him.
Cross-examined. I could not identify you, because your face was covered with hair.
JESSE BARTLE (R 103). On 14th June, between twelve and one a. m, the prosecutor came to me with Armstrong—he was in a dazed condition, and very much exhausted—Armstrong gave me a description, and I went to Beresford Street, and saw the prisoner and three or four others disputing about money matters—I told him I should have to arrest him, as he answered the description of a man I wanted for assault—he said, "I deny it"—I took him to the station, and on the way he said, "I know what it is for now; you are taking me there to be picked out, as there has been a robbery, and get me put away "—Armstrong identified him at the station—he used very violent threats on the way there.
Cross-examined. The others ran away; you did not—they saw me lay hold of you.
Prisoner's Defence, I was coming home in Beresford Street, and four men came up and seized my hands, and robbed me of fourteen-pence and a silk handkerchief. I showed the constable where they tore my clothes. I was so bad I could hardly walk. They said to the prosecutor, "Is this the man?" He said "No. "
JESSE BARTLE (Re-examined). His face was cut, and he had a bruise above his eye—I do not know how that happened—he suffered some violence—I cannot tell whether he charged the other men with violence to him—he accused them of robbing him of thirteen-pence.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Woolwich on August 9th, 1888.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
560. CHARLES JOHNSON (51) and GEORGE WILSON (41) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Agnes Ellen Waters; and stealing a soup ladle and other articles.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each . And
(561). FREDERICK MAY * To burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick James Thomas, and stealing a watch and chain and £2 12s. 6d.; also to a conviction of felony in May, 1891, at Greenwich.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LYONS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Copeland.
JOHN LECOCQ . I am chief inspector of the Surrey Commercial Docks police—on 16th June I received information, in consequence of which I went to No. 1 warehouse, where Cooper was detained—I took him into custody, and told him he would be charged with stealing two sacks of oats—he made no reply—I took him to the police-station, and then I went with Detective Tooley to the Westminster Bridge Road—Tooley went away, and soon afterwards returned with Copeland—we went in a cab to Rotherhithe station—when the prisoners were put together, and told by Tooley that they would be charged with being concerned together in stealing two sacks of oats from the Surrey Commercial Docks Company, Cooper said, "I gave them to you (meaning Copeland), but I did not receive any money from you"—Copeland said, "What I got I took home"—the value of the two sacks of oats was about 16s. 6d.; the oats belonged to the Dock Company; the sacks Copeland had brought with him, so other witnesses said.
Cross-examined by Cooper. You said, "I put the two sacks in your van. "
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I may have said before the Magistrate that what Cooper said was, "I lowered the sacks; I did not receive anything for it"—I speak from memory—Copeland said, "I was at the docks this morning for some oats, and what I received I brought home"—the oats were in the loft in bulk; the sacks are weighed upstairs and then lowered into the cart, which stands underneath—every loaded cart going out of the docks has to pass through a gate where there is a policeman on duty, and he has to check every load as it goes through with the carman's pass-out order—if he detected any deficiency or surplus, it would be his duty to stop the cart and demand an explanation—four bushels go to a sack—Copeland was arrested on the way to his employers—I received the information about half-past two—I have heard Copeland is a union man—I do not knew if Hughes is a non-union man, or if there is ill-feeling between him and Copeland—I have heard no rumour of it.
EDWARD HUGHES . I am a workman in the employment of the Surrey Dock Company, and live at 60, Plough Road, Rotherhithe—on 16th June I was on the C floor, No. 1 warehouse, at the docks, trimming up the bulk of corn—I saw Cooper lower two sacks on to Lyons' van; Lyons is Copeland's master—I saw three 'men belonging to the gang that helped to lower the sacks—I gave information to the foreman at about eleven—when I got back the van was gone.
Cross-examined, by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Kitson is the foreman—I do not know that Lecocq did not receive the information till 2.30—the sacks were lowered from the floor I was on, and Cooper was on that floor—I did not speak to him; I went to give information—I saw the sacks lowered—I did not have time to speak to him—I did not see the sacks weighed out—I am not a union man; I cannot say if Cooper or Copeland is—I cannot say if I spoke to Copeland the day before—I did not quarrel with Copeland—I did not say I should quarrel unless I could get a shilling a sack—I did not see the order—I know he had two more than the order, because to checked the number of sacks—he could pass out with two more
than his proper load, because there were such a lot of sacks, 44, on the van that it was impossible to count them—the previous day Copeland went out of the docks without giving up his pass—I don't know that the policeman counted the sacks, and allowed the man to pass through.
Cross-examined by Cooper. I saw you lower the two sacks, after the weigher Staples had left the scales; I was the only one on that floor—you did not say when you passed the last sack, "That is the last one."
By the JURY. Copeland was supposed to have forty-two sacks, as his complement, and the two over made forty-four.
Re-examined. Cooper filled the sacks, without weighing them; the weigher was not there, and he lowered them—one sack was Copeland's, and one was another one; they bring all sorts of sacks, some plain, some marked—it does not follow because a sack has not got the Surrey Commercial Dock mark on it that there is anything wrong with it.
By Cooper. I counted forty-two sacks; forty-four sacks came up, thirty-eight in the first lot, and eight on the second, because there were not sufficient sacks—the other two sacks were left at the side of the bulk—it is not my place to put down the empty sacks.
THOMAS KITSON . I am a journeyman foreman at the docks, attached to No. 1 Granary—I live at 7, Canute Street—on 16th June, from what Hughes told me, I went to Cooper, who had gone outside the docks to a public-house—I called him out, and said, "You put two sacks of oats on to Lyons' van"—he said two or three times, "I admit I lowered the two sacks on to the van "—I reported it to my superiors, and they ordered me to wire for the police.
Cross-examined by Cooper, I asked you if you put the sacks on the van, and if you received any money; you said, "I gave him two sacks, but I received no money"—you did not say, "I lowered two sacks on to the van as the weighed weighed them and tallied them; the weigher saw them loaded"—the weigher was away for ten minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. NO. 1 warehouse is about twenty yards from the dock gates—there is always a man on duty at the gates—Hughes spoke to me about half-past eleven; I had to go across the docks and report to my superiors, and then wire to the police—the weigher is not here—I do not know the name of the constable at the gate.
JAMES TOOLEY (Detective M). On 16th June I went to Westminster Bridge Road, saw Copeland, and charged him with being concerned in stealing two sacks of oats from the Surrey Commercial Docks that morning—he said, "I was at the docks, and what oats I had I brought home"—I conveyed him to the Rotherhithe Police-station, and placed him with Cooper, and told them the charge—Cooper said, "Yes; I gave him the oats, but I never received a halfpenny for them. "
Cross-examined by Cooper. I did not ask you how you managed it; you did not tell me you never managed it at all.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I made this note—I said at the Police-court, "I put the oats on, but I never received a halfpenny for them"—my note is, "I let him have"—I made the note on the day they were committed for trial, which was the day after they were arrested—I had a note on an envelope at the Police-court; I don't think I looked at it; I have not got the envelope now—I would not be certain what was the word he used; probably "I put the oats on" is correct—I have made inquiries about Copeland; he was working for Mr. Lyons at the time—he
had worked for him for about three years, but he had been away for some time, and only recently returned—Mr. Lyons' son is outside—I don't know if he can prove the amount of sacks that Copeland delivered.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. The officer at the gate receives the document from the carman, and puts it in the box, and it is delivered at the office—this is the ticket the carman delivered to the officer; I got it from a clerk—the officer checks them as far as he can by this pass—it is difficult sometimes to count sacks; often a carman puts nine in the centre of a van, where there should only be eight—as far as possible the officer should count the sacks—the officer is not here; he was at the Police-court, but was not called.
Cooper, in his defence, said: I lowered them; the last sack I lowered was weighed by the weigher and tallied by him.
Witnesses for Copeland.
SAMUEL KEVAN . I am carman to Lomas and Eves, Stoney Lane, Tooley Street—on 16th June I was with Copeland at the Surrey Commercial Docks—I saw his cart loaded with sacks coming through the gate, and I saw the gate-officer stop it and count his load—Copeland gave the officer his pass-out check—the officer made the number of sacks forty two; as far as I could see that was a fair number—the officer deliberately counted the sacks once over and made the number forty-two, and after that passed the van out.
Cross-examined. I got to the docks at half-past eleven or a quarter to twelve; I was going in to load—I am quite sure it was not twenty minutes to nine when I went there, and half-past nine when I left—the van looked full—all the sacks stood upright in rows across the van; I did not count them—I heard the officer say to Copeland that he made forty-two, and Copeland said, "All right. "
JOHN FITZGERALD . I am a dock labourer; I was working at these docks on 16th June—I know Copeland by sight only, coming in and out of the docks—on 16th June I assisted in loading his van—he received forty-two sacks, one of which only contained three bushels and four pounds—I saw the cart leave the dock; only forty-two sacks were placed on that cart.
Cross-examined. It is part, of my duty to assist in loading—I think we loaded about 170 quarters into dozens of vans that day—we loaded another after the prisoner's—we were there till twenty minutes to eight that night—I do not assist in loading all the vans—there are two gates—I could not tell the names of all the vans I loaded—I recollect this one because the man was charged—I know Cooper; I worked with him for about eight years in these docks.
Re-examined. Cooper has been working for eight years in the docks—we do piece-work, by the quarter—we get 12s. 6d. a hundred, and I remember we did about 170 quarters on that day.
----HARRIS. I am shop foreman to Mr. Lyons, of Westminster Bridge Road—on 16th June Copeland was sent to the Surrey Commercial Docks to get 20 quarters of oats—the Dock Company altered the order to 18 5l. 8 quarters, as they had not enough oats to fill up the order—it made 42 sacks, one of which was short—Copeland got back about half-past
twelve—that would not be the ordinary time it would take; as a rule they take longer—he came back about a quarter of an hour sooner than usual; he had taken 31 and a cockell, the short sack, to my shop, and he had still on the van ten that he had to deliver—he had his number quite correct—the time it took him would depend on how long the gang at the docks took to serve him—he had been in our service about three weeks at that time—I cannot say how long he had been there altogether—he was there when I went there—he is an honourable, trustworthy man as far as I know.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. ROCKINGHAM GILL Defended.
JOHN TAPPER . I am landlord of the Lord Palmerston public-house, 42, Lucy Road, Bermondsey; Mrs. Conrath's baker's shop is opposite—I knew the deceased man, James Hickey, as a customer, and the prisoner also—on Tuesday, 21st April, the deceased came into my house about eleven at night; he remained there till about twenty minutes past twelve, and then left with a man named Dymond—about two or three minutes afterwards I heard the report of firearms, and shortly after the deceased was brought into the house by a policeman—he died in about ten minutes—I had seen the prisoner that evening—I am not certain about the time he came to the door—it was early in the evening—at that time he appeared sober.
Cross-examined. I had known the prisoner about six months—he was a frequent customer—he used to come into my place and have a drink—I had known Hickey about three weeks—he was an occasional customer; he came in nearly every day—he would not spend the greater part of the day there—I do not remember seeing him in the house on the morning of 21st April—I generally get down about half-past eight in the morning—I saw him in the evening; he came to the door—I think he took some refreshment—I did not serve him; one of my men did—I should say he was sober—he did not speak to me—he came in about eleven, and stayed till twenty minutes before twelve—I did not serve them—I don't know what they had—they were sober when they left; there was no one that was not sober—it was not necessary that he should have any assistance.
GEORGE DIXON . I am potman at the Palmerston—I knew the prisoner as a customer there; I also knew Hickey—about half-past twelve in the early morning of 22nd April I was standing outside the public-house, and saw Hickey and George Dymond leave the house; they went towards the side door of Mrs. Conrath's, the baker's shop—Hickey wished me good-night—he put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, and took out his key or something that answered to it, and opened the door with it and went in—he then seemed to turn his back to the passage, and then I saw a flash of
fire, and heard the report just inside the door, and the deceased came from the passage saying, "lam shot, I am shot"—he came into the road; he did not fall to the ground—there were two constables immediately on the spot—the prisoner came from out of the door on to the footpath—he had a double-barrelled pistol in his right hand, and an open knife in his left—he was seized by the two constables—I heard him say, "I shall not try to get away; it is for love "—Constable Hamilton took the deceased into the Lord Palmerston—I followed, and remained with him until he died, about ten minutes afterwards—after that I went to the Police-station, and there saw the prisoner detained in custody—he said to me, "Hallo, George, cheer up, you do look sad; what is the matter with you? how is Jem, how is Jem?"—I said, "Poor fellow, he is dead; you have killed him "—he said, "How long was he dying after I shot him? "—I made no answer; I was called to order by the constable.
Cross-examined. I have been about fifteen months employed at the Lord Palmerston—I was there before the prisoner came to Mrs. Conrath's—I knew him by serving at Mrs. Conrath's, and being a customer at the Palmerston—I became acquainted with Hickey from the first night he came from Manchester; I believe that was in February—from that time he was a frequent customer at the Palmerston; he was in every day—he spent two or three hours there during the day—I think he came from Manchester to try and buy a business in London; he had no occupation—I became fairly intimate with him; he was a very nice chap indeed—I have heard him say once or twice that he did not like the prisoner—I used to come to business about seven in the morning; I was an outdoor servant, and would stay till about four in the afternoon, and then go to my rest—on Monday, the 21st, the deceased came into the Palmerston early in the morning—he was standing at the baker's shop when I came to work; he came into the Palmerston, and to the best of my recollection he had two-pennyworth of Irish whisky, cold—it was unusual for him to come in so early; he stayed about ten minutes—I believe he went from there to the Railway Tavern; I had gone to breakfast—I did not see him again until the evening, about eleven; he came in by himself and joined some company, and they took refreshment together—there were about six or seven of us in company; I suppose we had about three pots of four ale; he stayed there from the time he came in, till closing-time; that was just half-past twelve—he was not at all noisy during that time, I am certain of that; he never kicked up any disturbance in the house whatever—I knew several of the persons who were with him—I left at half-past twelve when my work was done; I had to take my pots in—I was standing outside about two minutes-—the deceased came out with Joseph Dymond; I think he lives at 6, Max Road; that is not in the direction of Mrs. Conrath's shop—when they came out they went together towards the side door, they had not hold of each other; I don't suppose they were a yard apart—it was a very fine clear night—when the deceased opened the door, Dymond had got his hand on the side of the door—the door was opened wide enough for Hickey to get in and turn his back half round; then I saw the flash—at that moment Dymond was just going to step into the door—Mr. Trew and another baker, I don't know his name, lodged at Mrs. Conrath's—they were both customers at the Palmerston—they frequently came in—they did not stay as late as closing-time—I can't say what time they usually
left—I had seen the prisoner on the 21st in the private bar, about half-past three, when he fetched the bread in; it was not so late as five, I am always away at five, I leave about four—at that time he did not appear to be in any pain—we both had half a pint of four ale together—he did not look excited; he was sober.
JOEL DYMOND . I am an engineer—on the morning of 22nd April I left the Lord Palmerston with the deceased, James Hickey, about twenty-five minutes past twelve—I went with him across the road to the side door of the butcher's shop; he pulled out his key, put it into the keyhole, undid the door and walked inside; he then turned his back towards the passage to take the key out—at that moment the prisoner rose and fired; I had not seen him before he fired—Hickey said, "lam shot, I am shot," and staggered across the road—the prisoner came out of the door on to the pavement; I turned round and looked at him, and then I went after Hickey—the prisoner had a pistol in his right hand and a knife in his left hand, open—I believe he was sober.
Cross-examined. I believe he was perfectly sober—I had seen him before, I never had the pleasure of speaking to him—I saw him on several occasions; I only knew him by sight—I had only known Hickey since he had been in London, two months—I had been very intimate with him during that time, on Saturdays and Sundays, when we had time to go about together; we drank together very little—I generally leave off work at five or half-past—I was engaged every day until this occurrence, in regular employment—on the 21st I first saw Hickey at eight in the morning, as I was standing outside the Lord Palmerston, he was outside the Palmerston; I could not say whether he had been in, he did not go in with me—I did not see him for long at that time; he went one way and I another, because I was at business—I next saw him in the evening at nine, outside the Palmerston; I could not say whether he had been in—I did not go in then, I could not say whether he did, I did not stay with him long—I had business—I met him again at eleven inside the Palmerston, and remained there till closing-time—during that time we were both taking refreshments, very small—we used to go there occasionally of an evening—I never saw the prisoner there, I could not say how many others were there between eleven and half-past twelve—I had no drink with Dixon the potman; I am quite sure of that, only with Hickey, nobody else—I live at 4, Duppas Road; that is in the opposite direction to Mrs. Conrath—I went across the road with Hickey, because he invited me to go over, he was going away to Liverpool the next morning, and my usual time of going to work was six, but I was not going till eight; he asked me to go to the house—there was no necessity for me to go with him to steady him in any way; being friends, of course I accepted the invitation, I did not know whether I should see him any more, as he was going to Liverpool next morning—I was on the threshold of the door when he put the key in; the door is right on the pavement; it is not a very big door—the keyhole is on the right, the door opens inwards, I was standing on Hickey's left hand—I saw him put the key in the door—he pushed it wide open, as far as it would go, and he never let go of the door—he was not right in front of me, he was half turned to me, he had his right hand on the key, and at that moment I heard the report—I was not able to see where the report came from, it all happened of a sudden.
FREDERICK CRASK (M 246). About half-past twelve in the early morning of 22nd April I was on duty in Lucy Road—I saw the deceased and Dymond leave the Palmerston, and cross the road to the side door of 49—I saw the deceased push the door open and step inside; he then turned round, as if to take the key out, and I saw a flash and heard a report, and the deceased stepped out into the road, calling out, "I am shot!"—I saw the prisoner come out of the door with this pistol in his right hand, and this open knife in his left—I seized his right hand and took the pistol from him—I afterwards found that the right barrel had been discharged, the other was still loaded; I found the empty cartridge in the right barrel—Hamilton came up at the same time and snatched the knife from the prisoner's left hand, and then helped the deceased into the Palnierston—I held the prisoner till Sergeant Ayrest came up; I left the prisoner in his custody, and went and brought Dr. Lee—I did not notice that the prisoner made any remark when I seized him.
Cross-examined. I was on duty near the Palmerston—I had been on that beat for a fortnight—I only knew Hickey by seeing him there of a night—I knew the prisoner by sight; I had never seen him at the Palmerston, only seen him working in Mrs. Conrath's shop—Dymond was a perfect stranger to me—I was standing about 10 or 15 yards off, when I saw the flash, on the opposite side of the street, quite facing the side entrance of 49—I saw the flash quite plainly, and I could see the deceased; I could not see any one inside—I did not see the deceased and Dymond leave the Palmerston; they came from there; I was standing near the corner; they were walking together, and talking together, I believe—they were not arm in arm—when the deceased had the key in the door Dymond was quite close to him; the prisoner stepped out of the door on to the footway as I arrived—I had to wrench the pistol from his hand, he clutched it, that was all—he did not appear to be in the least excited; he was saying something, but I did not hear it, there was such a crowd round—I considered he was sober.
GEORGE HAMILTON (M 162). I was with Crask—I took this knife out of the prisoner's left hand—he said, "This is love "—I assisted the deceased into the Palmerston—I noticed a small hole in his coat; I produce the coat; the hole was in the back over the left arm. (Pointing it out).
Cross-examined. I saw the flash—I was standing on the opposite aide of the road, about a foot from Crask—I ran across the road with him—I had no difficulty in getting the knife from the prisoner—he did not appear excited, he was perfectly quiet and cool—I could not see the position in which the deceased was standing when I saw the flash.
JOHN AYREST (Sergeant M R 1). I live at 13, Lucy Street, Bermondsey—I was in bed in the early morning of the 22nd, and was aroused about half-past twelve by the report of firearms—I dressed quickly and came down into the street, and found the prisoner in the custody of Crask; I took charge of him and took him to the station—on the way there he said, "He called me a b----German bastard all day; it is all jealousy; have I hurt him much?,'—I replied, "I think he is dead "—he said, "A b----good job too; he said he would give me Irish beans, but I have given him German beans, you should see him fly out of the passage and shut the door and say 'I am shot!' or else I should have given him another; it is all a love affair; if he is dead I suppose I shall swing in a month; she should have thought of her cousin from Manchester before, I have told
her so; there was £15 less in the takings since he has been there"—this was all said on the way to the station in different paragraphs; he continued talking going along—at the station I handed him over to the inspector, and he was charged.
Cross-examined. The station is close upon a mile from where he was arrested—we walked that distance; it took us about twenty minutes—the only words I spoke to him were, "I think he is dead"—I did not caution him—he was perfectly sober.
HENRY PIKE (Inspector M). I was at the Bermondsey Police-station when the prisoner was brought in; the sergeant said, "This man has shot a man "—the prisoner said nothing at that time, he was laughing, and I said to him, "This is not a laughing matter; if this man dies you no doubt will be charged with murder"—I then cautioned him that anything he might say would be taken down and might be used against him—this is what I wrote down in his presence: "He has been trying to do me, and I have done him"—I then went to the Palmerston and made inquiries, and returned to the station and formally charged the prisoner with murder—he said, "It is quite right, it is a love affair. "
Cross-examined. It was about 12.50 when he was brought to the station, and he was brought direct to me; he was laughing when the sergeant made the statement when he first came in—he continued laughing for a minute or two, it was a grinning laugh, not hysterical laughter, it seemed a joyful laugh—he had ceased laughing when I gave him the caution—I did not observe him laugh again—he did not appear nervous or excitable, he seemed to me perfectly calm; I did not notice that he had been taking too much to drink; he was sober—I did not know anything of him before.
ROGER LEE . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 97, Southwark Park Road, Bermondsey—about twenty minutes to one on the early morning of 22nd April I was called by Crask to the Lord Palmerston, where I found James Hickey, supported on a seat—I found that he was dead—I examined him, and found a gunshot wound at the back of the chest near the spine—I formed the opinion then that the cause of death was hemorrhage. from the wound; I did not probe the wound—about thirty-six hours afterwards I opened the body, and found that my view as to the cause of death was correct; the hemorrhage was from the sub-clavial artery of the lungs.
Cross-examined. The wound was between the fourth and fifth ribs, about half-way down the back, close to the spinal column; that would be very nearly in the middle of the back—it was a wound that would be caused by the bullet going rather sideways—it was on the left side of the spinal column; it had been turned by striking against the fourth rib—the direction it took was upwards and outwards, and, of course, forwards—it had pressed the apex of the left lung.
BRIDGET CONRATH . I am a widow, carrying on business as a baker at 49, Lucy Road, Bermondsey—the prisoner was foreman baker in my service, and had been so since July, 1890—he lived in the house—I had been on intimate terms with him—the deceased, James Hickey, was my cousin; he came to stay with me about 25th February last—for a time he and the prisoner were on friendly terms—after my cousin had been in the house two or three weeks they quarrelled; it first began on Saturday night; I heard it—it was from something that the prisoner heard
out of doors; lie came in and said, "You know, Jim, I have heard that you are not here for a good purpose, and that you want to be master of this shop "—my cousin answered, "Do you think I would be content with a paltry bit of a shop like this; I have as much money as would buy up Lucy Road, and if you were a right-minded man you would look on me as protector to my cousin's interests," and he told him to leave off, and said if it was not for the respect he had for me, and did not make a row in the house that night, he would break his nose—I persuaded the prisoner to go to bed, and so put an end to the quarrel—I heard them quarrel on subsequent occasions, about twice; I cannot fix the dates—I think it was on the Saturday before Good-Friday; Hickey forbade Franz ever to come into the parlour while he was there—my cousin and I were in the kitchen that night when Franz came in; he came in quietly, and my cousin did not hear him until he stood in the midst of us, and he said he was a sneaking German; he came about so quietly—Franz replied that he was my foreman, and did his best in the interests of the business—Hickey called him a great many names, such as a German bastard; I interfered and quieted them—the next time I heard them quarrel was on Tuesday morning, 21st April, at breakfast, at eight o'clock—Hickey had been out; he came in, and was reading the paper with reference to Lord Randolph going out to Africa, and he abused the Germans, Franz in particular—Franz was in the bake house, which is level with the kitchen; he could hear distinctly, but he never spoke—that same day I asked Hickey to sit down to his dinner, and he said, "Not while that German bastard is sitting at the table"—I had given the prisoner notice to go on Monday, 13th April; that notice would expire on the Saturday, but I was not very anxious for him to go at all, although I had given him notice; I did not care for him to go—he said he would not leave for me; no matter who left the house, he would not leave—there was no arrangement as to Hickey's staying or going; he came as a guest; he was going away on the 22nd, to Liverpool—I had not told the prisoner that he was going; I meant to tell him the next morning—I saw the prisoner on the afternoon of the 21st; he went to bed with the toothache at half-past two, after dinner—I next saw him at five o'clock; he came through the shop and went out into the street; he was out for two hours—he was drunk—he went to lie down for an hour in the bake house; that was about half-past seven—I saw him when he got up, about half-past nine or a quarter to ten; then he could not stand; he seemed perfectly stupid to me, I could not get him awake at all; he was not able to stand on his feet; he seemed worse than when he came in—I left him at work in the bake house, preparing the flour for the next day's bread—Hickey was in the house during the evening; he never left the house the whole afternoon, except about a quarter of an hour; he was out when Franz came in, and he was out about nine for a few minutes; he did not go out any more till about eleven—he did not say where he was going, but I know that he went to the Lord Palmerston—I went to bed at a quarter or half-past eleven—I saw the prisoner after I had gone to my bedroom; he was standing on the stairs as I was going up to bed—he asked me if he should carry up the cash-box for me, as I had the baby and a few things—he did carry up the cash-box to my bedroom door—he said it was all owing to me, that if I had turned my cousin out of the house
things would never have been so annoying, or he would not have got so excited; he said I ought to have turned my cousin out when he first came—he said, "You have yourself to blame for my leaving"—I said it was not likely I would turn my cousin out of the house for him or anyone—nothing more was said; he went away—he did not come to my room for anything except to bring up the cash-box—he wanted intercourse with me, and I would not let him; I forbade him—it was after that that he made use of the expressions I have mentioned about my cousin—he asked me if I would he friendly with him again, and I said no, not after so many insults as he had given me; for he had a great many times provoked me—I then went to bed and went to sleep—I was awoke by the report of a pistol; I instantly got up and went down into the street, and there saw the prisoner in custody—I asked him what he had done; I did not wait for an answer from him; I went across to the public-house.
Cross-examined. He had given me the utmost satisfaction as foreman; he had always been as quiet as a child—I never ever saw him out of temper scarcely—there was not a growing feeling of affection on my side—he had offered me marriage—I refused him; that was in October—he had not renewed his suit—things went well for about a fortnight after my cousin arrived—the prisoner was usually a sober man; he never drank much; I had never seen him drunk before 21st April; I have seen him in liquor—my cousin came to me on 25th February—he intended buying a business in London; he was two or three days in London before he came to me—he said he did not like the place he was in, and I said, "Of course, if I had a home he was welcome there"—he was my guest—I had one lodger at the top of the house named Frank Denyer—I had a lodger named Trew—he came about a week or ten days after Hickey came—a man named Franendorf was in my employ—he came afterwards; he was there during the time Hickey was—on one occasion the prisoner mentioned something about reports people had circulated about me and Hickey—I don't think there was any truth in it—Hickey was not present when the prisoner mentioned it; oh, yes, I think he was present—Hickey did not say, "I will dash your brains in"—he said, "I will smash your snout, you b----German bastard!"—that was about a fortnight after Hickey had been with me—that was the first time I had heard a quarrel between the two men—when Hickey said that the prisoner replied, "You will break my snout "—he was drunk; not drunk, but in liquor, and nasty in his temper—he had insulted the other man first; he was excited, and kept on repeating, "You will break my snout "—he also said, "It is small thanks for all I have done in your interests "—I persuaded him to go to bed; and he went, and Hickey also went to bed—I remember a day when there was some conversation about the prisoner having gone into Hickey's bedroom—the prisoner complained to me about Hickey having been burning the gas all night in the parlour—I did not hear Hickey say to the prisoner, "Don't you come into my room again, or I will kill you on the spot "—I heard him forbid the prisoner ever going into the parlour—he might have said something threatening; I did not hear what it was—Caspar Granadore was present at that interview; that was all that took place on that occasion—I remember an occasion later on when the deceased spat in the prisoner's face—that was on the Saturday night before the murder, the 18th—that took place in the kitchen—the
prisoner had said nothing before he did it—it was an unprovoked attack on the part of the deceased—he also flung his hat in the prisoner's face—I seized his hat and jumped on it; it was a hard felt hat—I flung it back at the deceased—at that time he called the prisoner a German bastard many times—that altercation lasted half-an-hour, or more perhaps, till I asked Franz to go and shut up the shop for me—he went out, and returned with a constable, Inspector Styles, but nothing was done—the prisoner said he was frightened of my cousin—he had done nothing beyond tossing his hat at him and spitting at him, and he threatened to hit him—I don't know that he said it, except by his actions he threatened, him—I think Franz wanted to get him out of the house—he thought he could have him arrested—when the" shop was shut they both went to their bedrooms, and I heard no more that night—nothing took place on the Sunday—my cousin had no occupation during the wholeday; he was a traveller—he never worked while with me; he never did any work in his life—he used to go over to the Lord Palmerston very frequently—on Tuesday, the 21st, he came into the parlour or kitchen about eight, where I and the prisoner were, and said, "Will you have breakfast along with that German bastard? shame on the German bastard "—he asked how I could sit down with him—the prisoner made no answer—he never fetched the police, except the one on the Saturday night—the deceased told me on the 21st that he had been up since half-past five—he said he had been at the Lord Palmerston in the morning—I first saw him about eight—the prisoner was then present—I did not hear the deceased say to him, "You b----German bastard, you have no money and no clothes "—he went out about eight, and came back about ten, and came into the kitchen—a door leads from the kitchen into the bake-house—on the Tuesday afternoon, the prisoner said he had better go away for a few days—I persuaded him not to go till he had sent me another foreman; I said I could not spare him—about three he went to bed; he said he was suffering from toothache—I sent out for half a quartern of rum for him—I dont know if he had it all—he went out about five to see a dentist; he was out two hours and a half—when he came back I said to him, "Franz, you are drunk"; he was drunk—he went to sleep—when he woke up he was still suffering from the effects of drink, and so he was the last time I saw him, on the 21st.
By the JURY. My cousin was not leaving from any desire on my part, simply from his own wish—the prisoner did not know of his leaving—the deceased was not aware of the relations subsisting between myself and the prisoner—he had never said anything to me about it—he was a much bigger man than the prisoner, more than a head taller;. a very big man—he had no desire to marry me, or to take the business.
Re-examined. Nothing was said in my hearing between the deceased and the prisoner about my marrying the prisoner—the deceased said that while he was alive to watch over my interests he would see that I never did marry the prisoner.
LOUISA MARCH (Cross-examined by MR. GILL). I remember on the Saturday before this occurrence, about half-past ten or eleven in the evening, I heard the deceased calling the prisoner a German bastard, and saying he would break his snout—he shook his fist at him as if he was going to hit him; he was close to him—that was the next day.
CASPAR FRANENDORF . I was employed by Mrs. Conrath as second hand in the bakery—on Saturday, 18th April, I heard the quarrel between the prisoner and the deceased—I went over to the Palmerston with the prisoner in the morning; the deceased was there—he said something about the prisoner—I could not understand it—that same morning, between six and seven, I heard him call the prisoner bad names in the bakehouse—on the Tuesday, the 21st, I went to work at eleven; the prisoner called me—he was all right at that time—I could see nothing the matter with him—I went into the bakehouse and started work—the prisoner came to me half an hour later; he did not do any work—he did not stop in the bakehouse, I don't know where he went to—he came back about half-past eleven—he said, "I shall kick a row up to-night"—I said he had better go to bed and have rest—he said, "You think so," and left me—about half-past twelve I heard the report of the pistol—I went out and found the prisoner in custody—Mrs. Conrath came down, and the prisoner said, "It is all through you. "
Cross-examined. I was in the bakehouse in the morning working with the prisoner when the deceased came in and pulled Mrs. Conrath 'from the door, saying, "Keep it open for the six German bastards, they are all bastards"—I did not hear him shout out, "I will dash your brains out"—the prisoner was suffering from toothache that day; he told me he had had the tooth out—I think he was sober when he called meat eleven; I could not say.
ALBERT ALEXANDER TREW (Examined by MR. GILL). On 21st April I was working in the kitchen, putting in a pane of glass—I heard the deceased come into the kitchen; he said, "I am glad you have got the job and not a foreigner "—I said, "Who are you calling a foreigner?"
HENRY STYLES (Inspector M). On 15th April I was sent for to 49, Lucy Road; I was on duty in uniform—I found the prisoner outside the door—he said, "There is a man in the parlour at 49 who is wanted for murder, or attempting to murder, at Manchester"—I said, "Why do you say so?"—he replied, "Because he hides and sleeps in the day, and only goes out after dark; he will not let me enter his room to put out the gas, and he is always talking about his brother at Manchester; he has been staying with his sister since the 22nd "—I said, "Are you sure his brother is dead?"—he said he was not certain, but he was sure there was a warrant or a summons in existence for the arrest of this man for an assault on his brother at Manchester—he went on to give the name of this mysterious person as James Hickey, and gave a description of the man who is now dead; that was a description of the man in the parlour; he did not suggest how he became possessed of this information—he was perfectly sober; it was about half-past five in the morning.
Cross-examined. He appeared perfectly calm and collected, and in a man's usual senses.
WILLIAM TAYLOR (M 170). On 18th April, at a quarter to twelve p.m., I was called by the prisoner to 49, Lucy Road to turn a man out of his shop—I went with him and another constable to 49, and found the deceased standing in the middle of the road—the prisoner pointed to him and said, "That is the man"—the deceased said, "If I have done you any harm you know your remedy"—upon that the prisoner left and went into the shop; the deceased remained in the road—I was just about to go and see where the prisoner was when he came out and said, "It is
all right now, "as the deceased was standing in the middle of the road—they both appeared quite sober.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of the extremely strong provocation received.
After the prisoner had been given in charge he desired to PLEAD GUILTY to unlawfully wounding, and the JURY found that verdict.
Two Days' Imprisonment.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. CALVERT Defended. GUILTY on his own confession of an indecent assault.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted, and MR. SENHOUSE Defended.
EDWARD HARRIS . I am an omnibus conductor—on 17th May, about 12.15, I was in the London Road with two other omnibus conductors—I heard some one say, "Butt him," and I was struck from behind more than once—it was the prisoner who hit me first—I fell, and three or four set on me, and kicked me on my side and on my head, and I lost 4s. 6d.—I had 5s. in my right-hand pocket—I only recognised the prisoner—two constables were fetched, and when they saw the constables coming they got up and walked towards London Street—I pointed the prisoner out, he was then outside an urinal—I did not miss my money till I got home.
Cross-examined. This was before the strike—I had never seen the prisoner before—I had left off work at 11.30—Jarvis and Biggs were with me—I cannot say whether the prisoner took my money—he had been drinking.
ALBERT BIGGS . I am an omnibus conductor—I was with Harris—three of us were walking down the London Road, and just as we got opposite a public-house there was a gang of fellows, and one said, "Butt him"—the prisoner began it; he knocked Harris down, and fell on top of him, and started rifling his pockets—two or three rushed on Harris—I went to pull them off, and received a kick on my side and a punch on my face—I fetched a policeman, and they all ran round the corner of London Street—Harris and I went after them, and I saw the prisoner taken.
Cross-examined. They had been drinking, but they knew what they were doing—I saw the prisoner's hand in Harris's coat-tail pocket—I said that before the Magistrate—they were all trying to get his money, I suppose.
three men got on him; we went to pull them off, and I got a knock on my face—the prisoner had his hand in Harris's pocket—a policeman came up, and they ran away; we followed them to the urinal, and stopped the prisoner—the others ran away.
Cross-examined. They were not drunk; they had had enough—I told the Magistrate that one had his hand in Harris's pocket; I was not asked which one.
Re-examined. I made my own statement before the Magistrate; there was no solicitor or counsel.
JOHN STAMP (M 64). About 12.15 on May 17th I saw a crowd in London Road; I went up, and saw the prisoner and two other men running—the prisoner ran into an urinal; I took him in charge, and said I heard he had robbed a man in London Road, and I should take him in custody—he said, "God blind me! I am going to have a go for it!" and struggled very violently—I blew my whistle, and he caught hold of the chain and dragged it away from my tunic—I got assistance, and took him to the station—the charge was read over to him, and he said, "It is no use denying it here. "
Cross-examined. I should not call him drunk; he might have been drinking—no money was found on him, but he might have thrown it away in the struggle.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "All I remember is, I was by myself and was shoved down. I got up, and thinking the prosecutor was the man, I struck him. Then three or four young fellows I knew by sight came and asked what was the matter. I walked into the urinal, and the policeman came and took me, and I was charged with stealing the man's watch and chain and money. "
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony at South-wark Police-court on September 2nd in the name of James West— Nine Months"' Hard Labour .
MR. RAVEN Prosecuted.
EDWARD FIRTH . I keep the Commercial Coffee Tavern, Lower Tooting—at a quarter-past eleven on the night of 21st June I locked up the shop, and secured all the windows and the doors, and went to bed, taking the keys with me—about one o'clock next morning I was awakened by the inspector telling me there was a man in the house—I dressed and went down into the shop, and found the prisoner in custody of a police-sergeant—during the three weeks I have been there I have given the prisoner a small job for a meal, putting boards down in the cellar—I asked him what he was doing and how he got in, and he told me he got in through the board under the window; it had evidently not been removed for some months, because there are cobwebs on each side, and he could not have got in that way—he said he should be rather surprised if was going to charge him; he came through for a rest—there is a cupboard behind the bar—the prisoner had been in my shop from about seven to nine p.m. that evening, and was sitting on the last seat, and could see where I put my cash in the cupboard temporarily—the cupboard door was open when I got into the shop—I said, "Who has opened the door? I closed it when I went
upstairs "—the inspector said, "I opened one myself, but this one was open "—I had not left any money in that cupboard when I went to bed; I had taken it upstairs, and locked it in a drawer—after charging the prisoner at the Police-court, and getting back, I remembered having left four to five shillings in silver in a glass on the cheffonier, a little to the right of the open cupboard—that was gone.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have known you as a customer since I took the place, about five weeks ago—I left the door securely fastened when I went to bed, I bolted one side bolt, and the other side was locked—the outer shutter was broken, and I usually leave a blind over the double door; I did so on this evening—I have got in myself without knocking the blind down—I have left money downstairs on three occasions—I said nothing about missing money when I came downstairs—afterwards I searched the cellar for the keys we thought you had got in with—I afterwards remembered leaving the silver in the glass, after I talked it over with my wife—knowing you had 5s. 8d. on you did not induce me to say I had left the money in the glass.
Re-examined. I did not ascertain how entry had been effected—the door was locked when I went to bed, and afterwards—the blind is across the front door, and if he had a key he could get in there.
ARTHUR PROCTER . I am assistant at the shop next to the prosecutor's—about five minutes to twelve o'clock on night of 21st I was looking out of my bedroom window, and saw the prisoner, who kept going backwards and forwards, and when at the prosecutor's door he went on tip-toe; but about seven times he was disturbed by people passing—when I first saw him he was on the opposite side of the road—he crossed over and went into the prosecutor's porch—I could not see from my window what he did there—he came out; a person passed just afterwards; the prisoner went down the street a little way, and crossed the road—then he came back across the road, and into the porch—a constable came down on the other side of the road, and the prisoner walked down the street, and round a corner—he stayed there till the constable had gone, and then he came back, and when there was no one about he went into the porch, and I lost sight of him—I did not see him come out again—I came downstairs, and waited at my door till I saw an inspector, about eight minutes afterwards—I made a communication to him; he went to the door and tried it—the inspector afterwards showed me the cellar flap and the cobwebs on it, which looked as if they had been there for months—I could see the flap from my window; if anyone had gone through I could have seen it.
Cross-examined. I was watching you from a top window—you crossed the road several times, and entered the porch twice—I left my window to come to the door—I do not think it would have been possible for you to come out of the porch and slip through the cellar flap while I was coming downstairs.
GEORGE GRAY (Inspector V). I received information from the last witness and tried the front door, which was secure—I heard a noise behind the right hand side of the counter as if someone was moving about—I called out, "Who is there? "—I received no reply—I shook the door and rang the bell; no notice was taken—I sent the sergeant through the adjoining house with Procter, and he came through the back and undid the door and let me in, after undoing the bolts; the door was locked—I
noticed one of the cupboard doors open, just against where I heard the noise—we opened the other cupboard door—I went down into the cellar, where I found the prisoner lying down, apparently asleep—I said, "What are you doing here?"—he said, "I came here to have a sleep"—I said, "Does the governor know you are here?"—he said, "No, he does not"—we brought him up into the shop, searched him, and found five shillings and sixpence silver, and twopence bronze—I called the prosecutor and asked him if he knew a man was in his place—he said he did not—he came down and charged him.
Cross-examined. You were tying out in the open cellar on some sawdust, not hidden away—I asked how you got in, and you said, "Through the cellar flap "—no one could tell from the outside that one of the bolts of the cellar flap was bolted and the other unbolted—we searched the shop before we found you in the cellar—I noticed one cupboard was open. directly we got into the shop.
Re-examined. The cellar flap had not been recently opened.
WILLIAM COOK (Sergeant V 40). I was with the inspector—I went through the next house, and let the inspector in—I saw one cupboard open, and opened the other—when searching the prisoner he intentionally or accidentally dropped this 5s. 8d. on the floor behind him; it was tied up in a corner of a handkerchief—I picked it up.
Cross-examined. I found the shop door securely fastened—the blind appeared to me all right—I had to unfasten two bolts to let the inspector in.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he got through the cellar flap to sleep in the cellar, thinking that the prosecutor would not object to his doing so.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
CHARLOTTE SHEARING . My mother keeps a chandler's shop at 5, Webber Street, Lambeth—on 20th May, about nine p.m., I served the prisoner with some tea and sugar, which amounted to threepence—she gave me a florin, and I gave her 1s. 9d. change; there was no other florin there—as I was closing the drawer I noticed that it was light, and tried it on a slate—she was then going out at the door—she came back later on for some cheese; I recognised her, and told her that the florin she gave me before was bad—she made no answer—I went to get the florin, but upset the drawer, and when I went to pick up the florin the prisoner went out of the shop—I ran and saw her outside with a man—I asked some boys to stop her, but she got away—a policeman came and I showed him the florin; my mother broke it—I described the prisoner to Sergeant Ward, and saw her next day at a public-house, about 3.20 p.m., sitting in a corner with two or three other women—I was alone; I left her there, and when I got outside I told Sergeant Ward—I saw her next at the police-station a fortnight afterwards, with four or five more women, and picked her out—I knew her as a customer—I cannot recollect the name of the public-house I saw her in, but it was next door to the Victoria Concert Hall.
Circus, Southwark—that is not next to the Victoria Music Hall—on 22nd May the prisoner was in the bar, with two men and a woman, between 10.30 and eleven—I served them with drinks—one of the men paid with a sixpence—they went out, and one of the men came back with the prisoner, and called for three drinks, and laid down a sixpence—while I was gone for the drink he picked up the sixpence and put a half-crown in its place—I went inside, tested it, and found it was bad, and when I came back he was gone, leaving the prisoner and the other woman behind—the other woman asked why they could not have the drink—I told them it was a bad half-crown, and they left—I afterwards picked out the prisoner at the Police-court from-five others, and that is the man (Wilson) who tendered the bad half-crown—I have seen the other man (Turner) since at the Police-court—the prisoner and the other woman said they did not know anything about the coin.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, There was a quarrel in the public-house between a woman and you—Wilson said to Turner, "You must take your wife out," and you went out with Turner, and did not return.
PETER WHITE (L 119). On 28th May I took the prisoner in Waterloo Road; she was with another woman—I said, "I want you for uttering counterfeit coin in Webber Street"—she said, "You make a mistake, it is not me "—I took her to the station, placed her with several more women as nearly like her as possible, and Shearing picked her out.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). On the evening of May 20th. Shearing made a complaint at the station, and gave a description of a woman—I sent her into the Victoria Tavern, while I went round the next turning—she came back and made a statement to me, but I had reasons for not apprehending the prisoner; she was not apprehended till the 28th—I have seen her with Wilson and Turner (See next case.)
Cross-examined. I saw you in the Victoria Tavern with them nearly every night, and in the George.
JOHN BROGAN (Policeman L). The prisoner told me at the Police-court on the 29th that she had been living with Turner only a fortnight, at 5, Vine Yard, Borough, as man and wife—she also made a similar statement on the Monday.
Cross-examined. It was not I that told you had been living with Turner; I only told you I had known him a fortnight, and. he had just come home from sea; you said most likely he had just come out of prison—he admits living with you.
Witnesses for the Defence.
AGNES HOLDEN . I am single, and am a dressmaker, of 18, Isabella Street, Waterloo Road—you were not with me on Thursday night when. Wilson put a bad half-crown down—it was Margaret Simpson who was with Wilson at the Crown and Grapes—I did not see you till next day, and then I had a conversation with you.
By the COURT. The two women Wilson met were Margaret Simpson and myself—I saw the sixpence put down, and saw him tender the half-crown—he went away saying he would be back in a minute, but he never came back; he was a little intoxicated—I had been into the Grapes before—we were not turned out; we went out of our own accord—I have
known Wilson two months, but not to be in his company, and the prisoner six months.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was not there at all—if she says that she had a quarrel with another woman, and was asked by the barman to go out, that is not true—Turner was not there—it was between seven and half-past seven on Thursday evening—we were only there one night; I am not certain whether it was Thursday: yes it was—I heard afterwards of the prisoner having a quarrel in a public-house—the barman said she had been in—I do not know Turner—I have known the prisoner six months; I do not know that she has 'been living with Turner—I have only known her walking up and down "Waterloo Road—I have not known Wilson more than two months—I did not know him last August—I never was at Kingston in my life, and did not give evidence there in August, 1889—I did not know Turner then—I had seen Wilson once or twice before this night; I had not been constantly with him—I went in with her and Margaret Simpson, no one else—Turner was not there when I was there—Wilson paid the sixpence; I did not see him take it back and change it for a half-crown—I heard no quarrel—we went out of our own accord.
MARGARET SIMPSON . I left my place as a general servant at Stoke Newington about four months ago; I go out washing now, and live at 12, Gray Street, Waterloo Road, a common lodging-house—I saw Wilson put down this sixpence; he was treating me and Agnes Holden—the prisoner was not there—I did not see him put down the half-crown; I cannot remember exactly what day it was—when Wilson went out he said he was going across to the Angel to see if there was anybody he knew—he had had too much to drink, and I had had enough—I have known the prisoner two or three years.
Cross-examined. I do not know that she has been living with a man named Turner for three months—Turner was not in the public-house that night, there was only me and the first witness and Wilson—I had been with Turner that afternoon, but he was not in my company that night—I do not know that the prisoner passed as Turner's wife—I do not know where she lived—this took place between seven and eight o'clock—I did not hear the barman say it was 10.30—he was not examined before the Magistrate—I never saw Wilson before to-day, and that was the first time I had seen Turner.
Prisoner's Defence. I am innocent of the florin; if I had known it was bad I should not have gone to a place where I have dealt for over two years. I have no recollection of going to the shop. I had been drinking all the afternoon. I was not in the company at the time the half-crown was put down; I had gone home. I have not been in the George public-house for over three months.
GUILTY *†— Nine Months' Hard Labour .
MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.
ALFRED WARD (Police Sergeant L). Prior to May 28th other officers and I had the prisoners under observation for ten consecutive evenings in the Victoria Tavern, the George public-house, the Pear Tree,
and the Clarence at the corner of the London Road, drinking together—on the morning of 28th May, the day after Derby Day, I was at London Bridge Station with Bridges shortly before eleven o'clock, and saw the prisoners together—they took their tickets one after the other, and when they were about to pass through the barrier I arrested Turner, took him to the Police-office, and found on him two packets, one containing nineteen half-crowns, and the other twenty-two florins, separately wrapped up in paper—he said nothing—Wilson said to Brogan, "You will find nothing on me; I do not know this man; I never saw him before "—they each had a ticket for Epsom, which were given up and the money refunded—Wilson said, "I have no fixed address"—Turner said, "I have no address "—they made no answer to the charge.
Cross-examined by Wilson. You said, "I do not know him; I never saw him before; I don't know what you are charging me with"—we put you in a four-wheeled cab—I did not say, "I wish we had caught the other man," nor did Brogan say, "What sort of a man? "nor did I say, "A big fellow with a light coat"—I said, "I have seen you and Turner and another man in a light coat in a public-house every night."
JOHN BROGAN (Police Sergeant L). I had been keeping observation on the prisoners with Sergeant Ward in Waterloo Road and various public-houses in the neighbourhood—I saw them take their tickets at London Bridge Station on this morning—they were apprehended going through the barrier—I saw the money found on Turner—I took charge of Wilson; he said, "You have found nothing on me; I do not know what you have brought me in here for; I do not know this man; I have never seen him before"—I said, "I have seen you speak to him this morning on the platform, and I have seen you together at the George public-house, the Grown and Grapes, and the Duke of Clarendon "—he made no reply—I took him to the station, searched him again, but only found a good florin and a railway ticket for Epsom.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I have seen you and Turner and Caroline Sinclair and another woman in the Pear Tree—these public-houses are all next to each other—I inquired at the George, and found they had taken four counterfeit pieces there—we watched you from nine to twelve p.m. for ten nights—I won't be positive whether I saw you enter the Crown on the 23rd about 9.15.
HARRY BYFORD repeated his former evidence, and added: I picked out Wilson about a fortnight afterwards from four or five others, and am sure he is the man, and Turner is the man who came in when the first sixpence was tendered, and who went out and did not come back.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I should know the two females again—I have never seen you and Turner in the Crown on any other night, or you and the two females—I had never seen you before, to my recollection—you were there about half an hour, and Sinclair had high words with another female who was not in your company—I did not tell her to go out, but Turner took her out—I did not near another barman say to her, "You had better get out"—I should know the other female if I saw her—when you went out you were gone five or ten minutes—I swear that Sinclair is one of the females who returned to the public-house with you—you called for the drink; it was two glasses of Irish and one of stout and mild—you did not go out till I tested the half-crown; you did not stay for me to come back and say that it was bad—the females said they
knew nothing at all about it—I ordered them out, and they went out—a female, I cannot say who, came in and told me you were running down Waterloo Road.
LOTTIE HUGHES . I am barmaid at the Jolly Gardeners', Rotherhithe New Road—on Saturday, May 23rd, about 7 or 8 p.m., Wilson came in for some drink, and gave me a half-crown—it was very light, and I told him it was bad—he said he had it from his work in his wages, and he would go to his governor and bring him—he wanted it back, but I would not give it to him—he never touched the drink—shortly afterwards he was brought back by Moore, and searched, but he had no money on him—he was not given in custody—I saw him next in Court on 29th May—I am sure he is the man
Cross-examined by Wilson. It is a small compartment, with a little partition on the right side—three other men were in the compartment, and one of them was the detective who brought you back; he had followed you in—all three men came in after you—you put the half-crown in a corner and tried to hide it, but the detectives could see it; you turned your back to them so that they should not see it—one of them followed you out—you were gone a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes; you got some distance from the house—I put some acid on the coin which turned it black, and wiped the black off with a corner of my apron.
PATRICK MOORE (Detective M). I was outside the Jolly Gardeners in plain clothes; I followed Wilson in, and heard him call for a drink—he put down a half-crown, and the barmaid told him it was bad—he said, "If it is, I got it from my governor," or" foreman, in payment for my wages"—the barmaid declined to return it, and he said he would fetch him—I followed him, stopped him, said I was a police officer, and asked him who his employer was—he said, "I decline to tell you"—I took him back to the house and searched him, but found no coin—I asked his name and address; he said, "Robert Clark, 232, Newington Causeway," and that he was employed at Rabbits, the boot manufacturers, Newington Butts—the landlord declined to charge him; the barmaid handed me the half-crown.
Cross-examined by Wilson. One or two customers were there already one went in with me—I saw you put down the half-crown; you had your back towards me, I looked sideways—I followed you a quarter of a mile at least—I did not see you join any person—you went down a place where there was no outlet, and then I took you—I found a pawn-ticket on you in the name of R. Clark, which you said some one gave you, and it was not yours—you gave your name Robert Clark, and I put it down in my pocket-book.
FRANK GIRDLER . On 21st May, after midnight, I was in Victoria Yard, Borough, and saw Turner and a woman—I did not know him before—I saw him hiding something behind a post on some unoccupied ground in the court—I rushed towards him, but he got away; I went to the spot and found these coins, two packets of five florins each, with paper between each coin, and two half-crowns wrapped up separately, distinct from the florins—I next saw him at the Police-court, and picked him out—I am sure he is the man.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These nineteen half-crowns and twenty florins are all bad and from different moulds—it is customary to find counterfeit coin wrapped up in separate papers, with paper between each
—they are first rubbed over with lamp-black, which is rubbed off afterwards—the half-crown produced in Sinclair's case yesterday is bad—I left it on the desk, and have not seen it since—this coin uttered at the Jolly Gardeners is bad, and the one uttered by Wilson is from the same mould as some of the nineteen found on Turner—I can see a slight trace where it has been tested with acid, which must have been very weak; strong acid would indent it, and you could not thoroughly eradicate it—these eleven florins which were hidden, are counterfeit.
Cross-examined by Wilson. The half-crown you are accused of uttering at the Jolly Gardeners is from the same mould as one of the nineteen.
Witnesses for the Defence.
Cross-examined. I gave this evidence yesterday on behalf of Caroline Sinclair, but the jury convicted her—I only saw a sixpence tendered; I did not see what change the barman was about to produce—Wilson took the money up three or four minutes after he put it down—I did not see that the barman had got a bad half-crown—I did not see him bend it, or see that he had one—he told him it was bad—I was alone; I don't know what became of the sixpence—I had not been in before that evening; I did not say so yesterday—I never left the house from first to last—only three of us went in, Wilson, Simpson, and myself; Turner was not there—this was on Thursday night; I was not there on Friday night.
By the JURY. I have been in Wilson's company once or twice before, and knew him.
Cross-examined. I have no fixed address at present—Wilson was a perfect stranger to me till that day; I came into his company by Carry Sinclair, who asked me to have a drink at the Victoria with the two prisoners—I have known her two or three years—I heard her convicted yesterday of uttering bad money; I swore that she was not there, and she was not—I do not know what time or what day it was, I took no notice—I know it was not night-time—Wilson went out because he had to meet somebody; he never came back, and the barman took our drink away; we stood at the bar and waited for him—I did not see the half-crown or see Wilson take back the sixpence.
By Wilson. In the early evening I went with you. Turner, and Carry Sinclair into the Crown public-house after we came from the Victoria; I did not know you then—we all four went out and parted, and afterwards you met me and asked me to have a drink, that was the time the barman accuses you of putting down a bad half-crown—Caroline Sinclair did not return in your company or in my company at the time you were supposed to utter the bad half-crown; I swear she was not there.
Wilson, in his defence, stated that he had known Turner five or six weeks, but did not know that he was in possession of counterfeit coin, and that he believed the half crown he uttered was good, and offered to take it back to the person who gave it to him; and he denied uttering any half-crown, good or bad, at the Crown; that he left to go to the urinal, and when he went back the women had gone, and he went home. Turner stated that a man who he had seen several times outside Fenchurch Street Station, tapped him on his shoulder near the Elephant and Castle, and asked him to go to the races, and took him into a public-house and told him to put something into his pocket, which he said were
brass duckets, and (old him to take a ticket and meet him on the platform, which he did; lie and Wilson were arrested as deserters, and when the four packets of counterfeit coin were found on him he fainted away.
SERGEANT WARD (Re-examined). I did not arrest the prisoners as deserters—I said to Turner, "I believe you are a counterfeit coiner"; he became almost insensible in my arms; I did not mention the word "deserter."
GUILTY . WILSON** -Five Years' Penal Servitude . TURNER— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted; MESSRS. LAWLESS, K. FRITH, and PURCELL Defended Lester, Gorman, and Davis respectively.
JOHN WEBSTER . I am a billiard-marker, of Gilbert Road, Lambeth, and am employed at the Hercules Tavern—I left there with John Tiltman on the early morning of the 19th May, and went along the Kennington Road—at the corner of Wincot Street, Lester came up and said, "Jack, old boy, how are you? "—I knew him—my friend walked on—Davis came behind, and I was tripped up by somebody kicking my legs—I was kicked on my head while on the ground, and my money was taken and a bunch of keys out of my right-hand trousers pocket—Gorman and Davis ran away—Lester stood there, and said, "Well, Jack; it is a shame to take on an old pal"—a constable came along, and said, "Will you charge him?"—a detective came up directly after, and I paid, "Yes, I will charge him"—Lester said, "I did nothing"—my friend came back and picked me up—Lester was taken to the station, and I charged him—I saw the other two prisoners at Lambeth police-station the following morning—I had seen Davis twice, and Gorman once—I picked out Davis from amongst others.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. It was not the first time I had spoken to Lester—we had not had betting transactions together—he bet me two cigars to one about the Derby, that is all—I had been drinking that day—it was 12.30 when I left the public-house—I was about six minutes' walk from the Hercules when I was stopped—Lester put his arm round my neck—he was behind me when he said, "How are you, Jack?"—the others came up, I might say, in a second—Lester never ran away.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. It was Whit Monday—I had been on duty since early in the day—I served drinks as well—it was a wet day—we were fairly busy in the billiard room—Tiltman was assisting me—I had had six or seven glasses of bitter or lemonade and a dash—I was sober—I did not say before the Magistrate, "I was not very drunk"—I am a very bad writer, and could not write my address if you gave me £1,000—I know the prisoners by sight—I knew Davis from his kicking a man in the head in the billiard room—one of the customers told the landlord of him, and he said he was not to come any more to the house—I was just round the corner of Wincot Street when I was assaulted.
Re-examined. I was cross-examined at the Police-court by Mr. Armstrong—I was asked, "You were not very drunk?"—and I said, "No"—I was not drunk.
GEORGE TILTMAN . I am a billiard marker, of 13, Bath Terrace, Trinity Square, and am employed at the Hercules—I was with the prosecutor when the prisoners came up, and Lester touched him on the shoulder and said, "Hullo, Jack, old boy, how are you?"—he came from behind—I walked on a few yards—I heard a scuffle, and turned ronnd and saw the other two had hold of Jack—I saw one on each side of him, and Davis with his hand in his pocket, then Davis gave him a leg-kick, and he went backwards—Gorman kicked him on the head when he was on the ground, and then they ran up Wincot Street; I picked the prosecutor up—a constable came up, and the prosecutor said, "I have been robbed of 18s. "—Lester said, "Jack, old boy, it's a d----d shame that old pals should do you out of the money"—he stood there all the while the constable said, "Who by? "and the prosecutor said, "By two persons," and the constable asked Lester if he knew the two, and Lester said, "Yes, they are friends of mine "—Lester then said, "It's no use waiting; you know where to find me, Jack, if ever you want me "—a moment after Detective Cox came up and said, "What's the matter? "—the prosecutor said, "I have been robbed out of 18s. by two friends of Lester's and by Lester "—Cox said to the constable, "Take that man in charge; I know him," and he was taken—I saw Gorman and Davis the next morning at the station amongst others—I picked out Davis, and said to the best of my belief Gorman was the other—the prosecutor and I were sober; we had had some drink.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. Whit-Monday is busier than most days—there is a good deal of drinking and billiard playing—they sometimes stand the markers drink—we had gone about half-a-dozen yards down Wincot Street—it is not correct that when we came to the corner of Wincot Street Lester came up and said, "Hallo, Jack! "—they were on the same path—I passed them and said nothing—I had gone seven or eight yards when Lester spoke—I did not hear him coming up behind—I left Lester and the prosecutor talking, and went on some yards before I looked round—I was transfixed for the moment—the whole thing was done in a few moments—the other two ran up the road—it was at Cox's suggestion that Lester was charged—I can't say which direction he came from—Lester was taken to the station, and the other two were arrested after.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I said I saw Lester and Davis "and another man"—I said to the best of my belief Gorman was the other—I can't say whether Gorman was there—it occurred in the dark.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I had seen Davis before at the Hercules—I knew him perfectly well—I saw him put his hand in the prosecutor's right-hand trousers pocket—he was then "given the leg," and he went down—I was some yards away—it was rather dark—I should not be surprised to find that was not in the depositions.
Re-examined. I saw Gorman and Davis when they ran past—I picked out Gorman as being the man, to the best of my belief.
DAVID COX (Detective Sergeant L). I saw the prisoners against the Ship public-house at 12.45—they were talking together—I crossed and kept them in observation—they went towards Wincot Street, about thirty—
two paces, and then stopped by a tree in the centre of the pavement—it was rather dull, but I saw a scrimmage on the pavement—I crossed over and saw Lester there with two uniform constables—I saw two men running away—I then saw the prosecutor and Tiltman—I heard the prosecutor say he had lost eighteen shillings, and I directed a constable to take Lester, and I would follow with the prosecutor—the same morning Gorman and Davis were brought to the station by Sergeants Stebbing and Leonard placed amongst several others, and I identified both of them as the two who were standing together in Wincot Street—the inspector, before they were charged, directed me to give him the particulars of the case—I was doing so when Gorman stepped before me and asked the inspector if he could ask me a question—the inspector said, "Yes," and Gorman then said, "When you saw me in the Kennington Road was I talking to a female?"—I said, "No, you were talking to your three selves "—he said, "I can prove that I was talking to my mother."
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I had not seen the prosecutor before—I saw constable No. L 137 after—I was thirty to thirty-five paces off when I saw the scrimmage—I did not say when I came up, "Will you charge this man?"—the prosecutor suggested it—I swear I did not—when he charged him I told the constable to take him.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I saw Gorman there within a minute of the robbery—the prosecutor had been drinking—he was not drunk—he seemed to be very much excited.
ALFRED HICKLING (L 137). I saw the prosecutor, Tiltman, and Lester standing on the pavement near to the edge of Dr. Farr's railings—I went up, and the prosecutor complained of having been tripped up and robbed of eighteen shillings by two men, who immediately ran away—L 93 then came up, and Detective Cox immediately after, and the prosecutor said, "I will charge him" (Lester)—he was taken and charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I was in the Kennington Road, walking towards Wincot Street, when I turned the corner and saw the three men; I was about ten yards off—the prosecutor was just recovering from being thrown on the ground—I did not see two men run away—Lester did not say, "It's a d----d shame to take on a pal"—Cox came up close behind the other constable; Cox did not suggest charging Lester—Lester did not say in my presence, "It's no use my waiting here; you know where to find me "—I was there the whole time, till Lester was taken away.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I don't know Gorman's mother—I did not see that lady talking to Gorman.
WILLIAM LEONARD (Police Sergeant L). At 11.15 on 19th May I arrested Gorman at Newington Butts—I said, "I am going to take you into custody on suspicion of being concerned with another man now in custody in a highway robbery with violence"—he said, "Me?"—I said, "Yes; you will have to go to the station "—on the way he said, "What has he lost? I suppose his watch and a lot of other things; but if he says so he is a bleeding liar "—I said, "You will know all about it when you get to the station "—when at the station Gorman said, "Leonard, you are not going to do anything unfair, are you? "—I said, "No"—Gorman and Davis were placed amongst six prisoners, and were identified by
Detective Cox—the prosecutor and Tiltman identified Davis, and said to the best of their belief Gorman was the other man.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I did not hear the Inspector say to one of the witnesses, "Look at him (Gorman) a second time. "
HENRY JUPE (Sergeant L). I was with the last witness when Gorman was arrested—I arrested Davis, and took him to the station—he said, "I was not in the Kennington Road; I know nothing about it"—he was placed amongst others, and identified.
NOT GUILTY .
572. THOMAS CLARKE (27) PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglary in the dwelling-house of Alfred Fulman, and stealing a clock and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in July, 1883, in the name of James Pritchard.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 27TH JULY, 1891.