CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 14TH, 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
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE.
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
Held on Monday, September 14th, 1891, and following days.
BEFORE the Hon. Sir JOHN COMPTON LAWRANCE , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir POLYDORE DE KEYSER , Knt., Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the said City; JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., WALTER HENRY WILKIN , Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., and MARCUS SAMUEL , 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.
Sir AUGUSTUS HENRY GLOSSOP HARRIS, Knt.,
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SAVORY, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 14th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN. for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
637. HENRY BRUCE (39) and HENRY PRIMMER (26) , to unlawfully and maliciously damaging a plate-glass window, the property of James William Benson and others.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months' Hard Labour.
639. WILLIAM HARTLEY (22) , to feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Clara Jones, and stealing a quantity of gas fittings and other articles, value £10.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
641. WALTER HERBERT HUGHESDEN (22) . to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing a postal order for 15s.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
643. JOHN WILLIAM MAINWARING (22) , to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a letter containing a sovereign, two half-crowns, and 1s. 6d.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
644. ALFRED WILLIAM POWLEY (19) , to three indictments for stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, letters containing postal orders for 10s., 2s. 6d., and 2s. 6d.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude.
646. HENRY RHODES (24) , to four indictments for stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, letters containing postal orders, and feloniously forging and uttering receipts for the same.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Seven Years' Penal Servitude. Nearly 3,000 stolen letters were stated to have been traced to the possession of the prisoner.
648. JOHN BROWN (19) , to stealing a post letter containing a postal order for 20s., the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] One Day's Imprisonment.
649. CHARLES KING (26) , to stealing a post letter containing certain postal orders, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
650. JOHN THOMAS DESBOROUGH (22) , to stealing two post letters, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 14th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against Alice Turner. NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
MATILDA COLE . I am barmaid at the Queen Adelaide, Hackney Road—on August 17th, about 9.50, the prisoner came in for a glass of mild and bitter ale, and gave me a florin; I put it in the till, gave him the change, and he left—he returned about 10.10 to the middle compartment, and asked me for a glass of mild and bitter ale, and gave me a florin; I put it into the till, and gave him 1s. 10 1/2 d. change, and he left—he came again about twenty minutes afterwards for some mild and bitter ale, and gave me a florin; I tried it in the tester, and it bent—I showed it to my aunt, and a policeman was sent for—we had cleared the till, and put the money in a glass behind after the prisoner's second visit, and then we went to supper—five florins were found in the glass, two of which were bad—these are them—I gave the third to my aunt, and saw her give all three to the constable.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There are three compartments in the bar, two persons were serving besides me—I did not notice whether you were sober the first or second time I served you—I did not know you as a customer—I do not know whether you came in a fourth time.
JAMES DUNGATE (J 167). On 17th August, about 10.30, I was called from the point, to the Queen Adelaide, 200 or 300 yards off—the landlady said that the prisoner had passed three coins, holding them in her hand in front of him; he said nothing—I took him in custody, searched him, and found one penny in his trousers pocket—I took him to the station—he was charged and said nothing; he had been drinking, but was not drunk—he gave his address, 21, Green Man Street, Essex Road, Islington.
Cross-examined. The barmaid said that you gave her three coins, but a fourth was found in the till after you were taken into custody—the barmaid said she put the coins in a glass a minute or two after she changed them; she said nothing about putting them in the till—I found your address correct, and saw your wife and children—I found nothing detrimental to your character.
The prisoner in his defence denied knowing that the coins were bad. He received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 15th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
655. ASHTON LESLIE,. alias HORACE LIDDINGTON (19), PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for uttering two forged orders for £12 and £20; also to another indictment for uttering a forged order for a cheque-book. He received a good character from his employer, and his brother stated that his conduct had been so extraordinary that his intellect was supposed to be affected.— Judgment respited. And
MR. H.C. RICHARDS Prosecuted; MR. LAWLESS Defended.
WILLIAM THOMAS EDWARDS . I am a clerk in the Confidential Inquiry Department of the General Post Office—in consequence of losses on the prisoner's delivery I was directed to make inquiries—in consequence of those inquiries I made up a test letter containing three postal orders, two for twenty shillings and one for ten shillings—I privately marked each order and put them in this letter, directed to Mr. T. Leeson, 129, Villa Street, Walworth—I posted it at half-past three on 22nd July at the S. E. office—I had previously given notice to Mr. Mackenzie as to where the letter was going—I ascertained at seven that night that the letter had not been delivered—next morning I went with constable Bick to watch the prisoner's residence in Thomas Street, Beresford Street, Walworth—at twelve at noon I saw the prisoner leave his lodgings in plain clothes—after he had gone a little way Bick stopped him—I then spoke to him—I told him who I was, and said, "Yesterday afternoon, at 3.30, I posted a letter at the S. E. district office containing three postal orders,
two of twenty shillings and one of ten shillings, addressed to Mr. T. Leeson, 129, Villa Street, Walworth; this letter should have been delivered by you last night; it was not delivered; do you know anything about it?"—he said, "I have not seen it; I had nothing for them last night but a paper"—I said, "Have you the letter in your pocket?"—he said, "No"—I then asked if he had any postal orders in his pocket; he said, "No, sir"—I said, "Then you don't know anything about the letter?"—he said, "No, I have not seen it"—I then said, "You must go with me to the General Post Office and be searched"—he then said, "The letter is in my pocket, but it is not open, I am just going to deliver it; I forgot it last night"—he was then taken to the General Post Office and searched by Bick in my presence, and this letter was taken, in its present condition, but it has gone a little more; it shows that a portion of the back part of the envelope has adhered to the gum—I said to the prisoner, "This is the letter which I posted last night; how do you account for its being open?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "Why did you say when you were stopped that you had not soon the letter?"—he said, "I did not know what to say"—several loose postage stamps were found on him, twenty penny unobliterated, and four halfpenny stamps—I asked where ho got them from; he said ho had had them for a long time.
Cross-examined. Bick went up to the prisoner first; I was a little behind him—I remember the conversation I had with the prisoner, and I made a note of it in shorthand, part of it as soon as I got to the office, and part at the time the conversation took place—I am quite positive he first said he had not seen the letter—the Magistrate at the Police-court asked to see the letter; he did not say it did not seem to have been gummed down properly—letters had boon missing from this district from about March this year—the prisoner had been there since 29th January—he bad been previously employed at another office.
FREDERICK MACKENZIE . I am Inspector of the S. E District Post Office—I was on duty on 22nd July, and in consequence of a communication from last witness I took possession of the letter from the letter-box and placed it with a bundle of other letters in the office; the envelope was then intact.
CHARLES HAMMOND WEBB . I am acting overseer at the Walworth Post Office—the prisoner has been employed there since 29th January—he was on duty on 22nd July, between the hours of live and nine—the S. E. bag arrived at our office at six minutes past seven; this letter was sorted among the prisoner's letters, and should have been delivered.
BERNARD GREEN . I am managing clerk to Mr. Leeson, of 129, Villa Street, Walworth—I know the prisoner as the postman delivering letters there—I was expecting this letter on the evening of 22nd July—the prisoner delivered a paper that evening, but no letter—I communicated that fact to the Post Office.
PHILIP BICK . I am a constable attached to the General Post Office—on 23rd July I went to Hereford Street, and watched the prisoner's lodgings—I first saw him about twelve o'clock, when he left his house—I followed him for some distance; he was going towards Walworth Road—I then stopped him, and said, "I believe your name is Cousins"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You belong to the Post Office?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "So do I, and a gentleman from there wishes to speak to you;
where was you going now, you were not going on duty, were you?"—he said, "No, I don't go on duty till five o'clock; I was just going out for a walk," he was in plain clothes—after that Mr. Edwards came up and spoke to him—I have heard Mr. Edwards' evidence, and confirm it—I searched the prisoner, and inside his coat pocket I found this letter, open as it now appears, and in a waistcoat pocket I found these stamps—I formally charged him with stealing this letter—he made no reply.
At the request of MR. LAWLESS,the RECORDER, after some hesitation as to the regularity of such a course, permitted the prisoner to make his own defence to the JURY, in which he stated that he had accidentally omitted to deliver the letter at the proper delivery, and was about to do so next morning, when he was arrested.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for stealing another letter, to which he PLEADED GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FARRAUT Prosecuted.
HARRIETT RUSSELL . I am the wife of Edward Thomas Russell, of 1, Belmont Villas, Queen's Road, Richmond-in March, 1889, I wished to invest some money, and I applied to my solicitor, who introduced me to the prisoner at 15, Fish Street Hill, my solicitor's office—the prisoner said, "I want to borrow some money," and then my solicitor showed me this statutory declaration; I cannot say whether I saw the prisoner sign it, but it is in the prisoner's hand writing, because I have seen him sign—this was read over to him at the time the money was lent, on 4th April, 1889. (In this instrument the prisoner declared that he had not charged, assigned, or otherwise encumbered his share under the will of Albert Billings, save as the same was charged by the indentures dated 4th December, 1888, in favour of George Brown and George Hall Hall)—on the strength of this declaration I advanced him £700 in cash on the same day—I saw the prisoner at the same time sign this mortgage, which he handed to me. (In this document the prisoner was described as mortgagor and beneficial owner)—on 11th July, 1889, the prisoner applied to me for another £700 loan, offering the same security as before—he made this second declaration, which I saw him sign; it is almost precisely like the first one—I then advanced him another £700 in cash—he also signed this document in my presence, and it was handed to me—the prisoner paid interest till July, 1890, but after that he paid neither principal nor interest—I heard nothing of him after July, 1890, till I found he was at the Old Bailey in July 28th this year, and I came and heard the case; he had had £250 from someone last Christmas—he was acquitted then—I went to a solicitor and took these proceedings at once.
EDWARD THOMAS RUSSELL . I am the last witness's husband—I was present on 4th April and 11th July, 1889, when the prisoner signed the declarations and deeds; my wife's evidence is perfectly correct—she asked the prisoner on the first occasion, "I hope what you are stating: in your statutory declaration is true, because the money will make a deal of difference to me;" and he said, "I am a man of honour, and I have never robbed anybody in my life," and the solicitor said, "If it is not true, Mr. Billings, you know you are liable for ten years"—I saw the prisoner sign both declarations, and they were read over to him first—
he stated they were true—when signing he made some sort of remark; I think he said, "This is my hand and seal"—I saw the money pass on both occasions.
CHARLES ANGELO BUSS . I am a solicitor and a commissioner to administer oaths in the Supreme Court of Judicature, at 62, King William Street—this declaration A was made before me on 4th April, 1889, by the prisoner; this is my handwriting—possibly it was signed before he brought it to me—I asked him in the usual form if he solemnly declared it to be his handwriting and the contents true, and he said yes.
ROBERT WOOD . I am a solicitor and a commissioner, of 13, Fish Street Hill—on 11th July, 1889, I took this declaration B in the usual form—I put the usual question, which he answered in the affirmative.
WILLIAM JOHN HELLIER . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Lawford and Co., solicitors, of 28, Austin Friars—they are solicitors to William Radford and his wife Emma, and have had the management of their business for the last ten years—William Radford is one of the trustees under the will of Albert Billings, the prisoner's brother—under that will "the prisoner had a reversionary interest in one-sixth of the residuary estate—on 27th September, 1880, he executed a mortgage on that interest to Mr. Silberberg, in consideration of £400—Mr. Silberberg brought an action against the mortgagor and recovered judgment in 1881—the prisoner then applied to Mr. William Radford to relieve him from the pressure Mr. Silberberg was putting on him—Mr. Radford handed me £500, and told me to do the best I could—on 8th November, 1881, I saw the prisoner, and obtained his written instructions to settle with Silberberg and some other creditors—I did so, and on the same day I obtained a reassignment of Silberberg's mortgage to the prisoner; and on 11th November I procured his execution in my presence of a new mortgage to Mr. Radford, in consideration of the £500, of the one-sixth share of the residuary interest; the balance of the £500 was handed over to the prisoner—in April, 1882, the prisoner, who was represented by a solicitor, Mr. Smith, proposed to sell the reversion, subject to a mortgage, for a further sum of £300—Mr. Smith arrived at the figures—after some discussion the business was carried out, and an absolute assignment of the reversionary interest, subject to the mortgage, was prepared; the draft was submitted to the prisoner's solicitor, and after some discussion was approved, engrossed, and executed, and the £300 paid over on the written order of the prisoner to his solicitor, the purchaser being Mrs. Emma Radford—therefore the prisoner had parted absolutely under this deed with all his interests under his late brother's will—he had his own solicitor, and it was not my province to explain the matter to him; but on the occasion before that I adopted all precautions, and took care that the engrossment and draft were read over to him before he executed the deed—with reference to the assignment my instructions were to take care that his wife, who is a very good woman of business, should know thoroughly what was being done, and that it was an out and out sale, and I said I should require evidence of it, and he showed me a letter he had received from Mrs. Billings, and handed me the original on the completion—it was a step in the business, a sine quâ non, that the prisoner's wife should understand the matter before the completion—this is a press copy of the letter I wrote to the prisoner's solicitor.
The prisoner, in his defence, asserted that he was under the impression he was acting quite legally in raising the money; that he was not aware he had assigned his reversion to Mrs. Radford; that the present proceedings were taken because the parties were incensed at his acquittal at the previous trial.
MARY BURGESS . I am single—I have known the prisoner two years—he was my master—I was his servant—I know that Mr. Radford informed the prisoner that there was to be a second charge on the reversion, and he was going to invest the money for the benefit of his children—he informed my master that if he could get £800 he would take it into his own hands and allow him the interest.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. H. AVORY and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
WILLIAM WILLIAMS (In custody). I am a cabman at 1, Ovey's Mews, Hammersmith—soon after five on the evening of 27th June I was at Aldridge's Horse Repository, St. Martin's Lane—Russell, whom I knew by sight, came up and wanted to know if I would buy a good cab-horse—I said yes—he went away—another man came up and spoke to me, and I went with him to the Globe public-house, New Compton Street; outside the Globe I saw a chesnut cob tied to—the tail of a cart—I had a look at the horse and went inside, where I saw George Rich—he spoke about the horse, and I agreed to buy it for £13 if it suited me after I had tried it—I was to pay £3 down before I tried it, and if it suited me I was to pay the other £10 on the Monday—Castling came inside and wrote out the receipt—after that arrangement was come to, this was written out: "Bought of J. Smith a chesnut horse for £13; £3 deposit, leaving balance of £10 to be paid. Signed P. Smith"—I could not say whether Castling or Rich signed the receipt; Castling wrote it out—the words "Before delivery" were written after "to be paid"—I think Rich struck them out—if the horse was not satisfactory, my £3 was to be returned to me—they were to come to my address to get the £10—while this was going on Russell came into the house, and said whatever was done he would be answerable for, and if I had not money to buy the horse he would lend "me £20 if I wanted it there and then—he then went out of the public-house—the horse had been given into the charge of Patrick Mahoney, who was holding the halter outside—I refused to pay the money till I had possession of the horse outside, and I went out and took hold of the horse—I paid Rich two sovereigns, ten shillings, and nine shillings in silver, and I was going to give him the other shilling, when Castling pulled the halter off the horse's head, and I was hustled and knocked down by Castling, Russell, Rich, and two others, and when I was on the ground the horse and money disappeared—I saw the crowd going with the men that had the money—I got up, and went after the crowd that was after Rich, who was running as hard as he could run towards Drury Lane—I ran and caught him, and had my hands oh him, when I was pulled from behind on to the ground, and he got away again—I had not seen Russell while I was running after Rich—I gave information to the police—two days afterwards I saw Rich
at the Elephant and Castle, and gave him into custody, and charged him at Marlborough Mews Police-station on the evening of 29th June—next morning, about eight, Russell and Glover came to my house—Russell said, "I have come about squaring that job about the horse on Saturday"—I said it was out of my hands altogether, I had nothing to do with it—Russell and Glover kept following me about and speaking about the matter till 10 o'clock, and in the end I received £5 from Glover in Russell's presence, and I wrote out this paper, which I afterwards saw Glover produce from his pocket after he had been charged at the Police-court—I had given it to Glover, whom I knew as Allen—that morning I did not go to the Police-court, but sent my wife there in consequence of Russell and Glover—after a little bit Truman spoke to me that morning—directly Russell and Glover went away I telegraphed to the Police-court, and then I went towards there and met the police officer, and then I was told that Rich had been discharged about two minutes before—on the 13th July I was called to Marlborough Street Station, where I saw the two prisoners in custody.
Cross-examined. I have often purchased horses—Russell asked me if I had sold a horse which I had had for sale, and I said, "Yes"—Castling was not present then—Castling and Rich were present outside the Globe—a third person spoke to me there—I arranged, after a long conversation with Rich, to buy the horse which was in Castling's possession; he was holding it—I knew nothing about Castling, and had made no arrangement with him about the horse—Castling suggested the words "To be paid before delivery"—Rich and I arranged the terms on which I should buy the horse; Castling wrote the receipt, and no one told him what to put on it—when I came outside I told Mahoney to let go of the halter, and I took hold of the horse and paid the money—I had possession of the halter when I was knocked down—Russell came on the scene when I would not pay on the receipt; the arrangenent would not have come off at all if he had not come; I knew him, and thought it was all right—I had not handed over the £3, nor did I have possession of the horse, when Russell came—the words were struck out in the house either by Castling or Rich—we came out of the house on quite friendly terms—there were perhaps seven, eight, or ten persons outside when we came out; their number increased to about seventy, I daresay—I can hardly say who struck me first—Russell pushed me away the same as the remainder—I believe I have said so before—Russell, Glover, and my wife were present when Glover paid me the money two days afterwards, Russell saw it paid; I said the second time I could not say whether Russell saw it, it slipped my memory till I thought of it afterwards—I had an exchange of horses with Trip, a horse-dealer or coper—I was to take a pony and £2—he gave me 10s. and the pony, and I left the horse in a stable belonging to his friend—Trip did not get his horse—the horse I got from Trip I kept some time and then sold; I did not give it to Trip, because he would not give me the 30s. he owed me; Trip tried to do me, and I did him instead—fifteen days ago I was charged with furious driving and got a month, and am in custody at present for that—as soon as I was knocked down it occurred to me that this was a trick—I went to the Police-court and complained about it; I said I knew Russell by sight—I made no charge against anyone; I knew it was a case of robbery at first—I told the police inspector what
had happened—I did not know the persons' names at the time—I had no conversation with Truman till after I had had the £5.
Re-examined. This happened on Saturday—I gave information at once that certain persons had robbed me—on the Sunday I went to Marylebone and found out from another man what Russell's name was; I did not know it till after I had given information to the police—I was charged a fortnight ago for being drunk; I was arrested for furious driving; it was in consequence of being drunk.
CAROLINE WILLIAMS . I am "Williams' wife—on Monday, 29th June, Bussell and Glover called on me and gave the name of Allen—Russell said if he had been there nothing of this about knocking Williams down and selling Rich the chesnut horse would have occurred, because he would have paid all money and everything that was required; he would sooner pay all the damages than have it go into court—he asked where my husband was—I said I could not tell, but I believed he had gone to the City—Glover said, "Is he gone to Ward's sale-room?"—I said, "I don't know; he has gone on important business, I know"—Glover said, "I think I know what it is for; it is buying a horse on Saturday"—I said, "I need not tell you then"—Russell said, "If I had been there it would not have occurred, as I should have settled things"—Russell said Williams had bought the horse and Rich had gone off with the horse; he said his pal Rich had been nabbed for the horse dealing—both Russell and Glover repeated the same; both called Rich pal.
Cross-examined. That was on 29th June—Russell put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the money, and said he would sooner pay the money for anything rather than go into court—both Glover and Russell said, "Has he charged my pal Rich?" in fact all three were there, and they each one repeated the same words.
PATRICK MAHONEY . I live at 20, New Compton Street, and am a French-polisher—on 27th June I was standing outside the Globe public-house when I saw Williams come up—he talked to Rich, and they went into the Globe, Williams leaving a chesnut horse outside for me to hold—Castling came up and asked me to let him have hold of the horse—I refused, and a bit of a row took place—he tried to get the horse away from me while the others were inside the house; he did not get it away—the others came out of the house, and Williams took hold of the horse by the halter, and paid £2 10s. in gold and 10s. in silver to Rich, who then drew the halter off the horse's head and struck Williams to the ground, and put the bridle on, and he and Castling walked the horse away; Castling had the horse—Williams got up from the ground, ran after them, and caught Rich, and he and Rich had a row, and Rich struck him and knocked him down and got away a second time—he went away with Castling and the horse.
Cross-examined. When I first saw the horse it was in Castling's possession—Rich and Williams came up together; no one else was there at the time—I heard nothing of what took place in the public-house—Williams gave me the horse before he went into the public-house with Rich—when they came out they were talking—I saw no paper; I heard something about a receipt—I don't know what it was—Williams gave me possession of the horse before I saw the money pass.
Williams, Rich, and Castling; they went into the public-house—Mahoney was taking care of the horse—Castling took the horse out of his hands—Mahoney said he would hit him if he did not leave go—Williams came out of the public-house with a paper in his hand, and he wanted Rich to cross something out—after a certain time Rich crossed something out, but not what Williams wanted—Williams paid some money to Rich and went to take hold of the horse, when Rich pulled him away and knocked Williams down with his stick, and Castling took the horse away—Russell was standing at the side; I did not see him do anything—Rich ran away; Williams got up and ran and caught up Rich, and had hold of him when Russell came up—I did not hear Russell say anything to them at the time, but afterwards he said if Williams did not pay the £10 to Rich, Russell would—Rich knocked Williams down again just as Russell was speaking, and Rich ran away.
Cross-examined. I did not hear what took place in the public-house—I was outside when they came out—there were a number of people about—Russell came on the scene some time after.
BENJAMIN ALLEN (Sergeant C.) On 29th June I found a man named George Rich at Rodney Road Station, and took him to Marlborough Mews on a charge of stealing these £3 from Williams—next morning, 30th June, Rich was brought before the Magistrate; Mrs. Williams attended, and made some statement, in consequence of which Rich was discharged—half an hour after I met Williams in Regent Street, coming in the direction of the Police-court—on 13th July, in company with another officer, I arrested Castling at the Elephant and Castle Horse Repository—I told him he would be charged with stealing £3 at New Compton Street on 27th June—he said, "I don't know where New Compton Street is; I know nothing about it"—when the charge was read to him, he said again, "I know nothing about his money"—information of this robbery was given to the police on Saturday, 27th June.
DAVID CRACKITT (Sergeant C). I arrested Russell on 13th July outside the Elephant and Castle Horse Repository, and charged him with stealing £3 in New Compton Street, the property of William Williamshe said, "I had no money"—he was eventually taken to Marlborough Mews Police-station and charged—he said, "Williams knows very well I did not steal his money and carry it away"—I searched and found on him £108 6s. 8d. in notes and gold—while taking Russell to the Policestation I noticed Glover, who said to Russell, "Shall I go to Hammersmith?"—Russell said, "Yes."
See next case.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and BODKIN Prosecuted.
JOSEPH WILLIAM PRATLEY . I am a cab proprietor, at Havil Street, Camberwell—on 7th March I was in Aldridge's yard, when the prisoner came up and asked me if I wanted to buy a horse—I said no—he pressed me very much to go outside to look at one; he said he had brought it a long way, and was too late to get it entered at the repository, and he did
not want to take it back, but wanted to sell it—I went with him into West Street, and there saw a chesnut cob—while there two men came up and offered him some money, which one of them said was £24—the prisoner said, "No, you blackguard; I sold you the horse just now, and you deducted the commission; I won't sell it you now at all"—they went away—I bargained with him, and agreed to give him £20 for the horse, after trying it—I was going to a public-house with him to write out a receipt, and on the way there these two men came up again and abused him for selling it and me for buying it—I suggested we should leave the house, and I said to the prisoner, "Let them have the horse," as they made a bother about it—the horse at this time was standing in the street in charge of Glover's man—we went into another public-house, and I wrote out this receipt, "Bought of Mr. G. Allen, chesnut horse, warranted sound and a good worker, for £20. G. Allen"—that is the name he wrote—I gave him £20 in gold—then I went out of the public-house to get my brother to take the horse home, and on my way to where I last saw the horse, two men came up, one stepped directly on my foot to prevent my passing him and struck me on my mouth, and before I had time to move I was surrounded by about a dozen men—when I got back to where the horse had been, the horse and all the men were gone—I went back to the public-house and the prisoner had gone—I looked about the neighbourhood for about two hours, but saw nothing of the horse or the men or my money—subsequently, in July, I saw something in the newspapers about the charge just tried, and I communicated with the police, and on 28th July I was taken to the police-station, where I saw the prisoner among a number of men.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not give me the horse; I never had it—I have never seen it since—you said, when I picked you out, you had never seen me before, and if you had a pistol you would shoot me—I saw you once since, but while I went for a policeman you and your two friends, who had knocked me about, absconded.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I plead guilty to selling the horse and receiving £17 10a., I gave him the horse and put the cart and harness up in livery in St. Martin's Lane, and I fetched it away two hours afterwards. "
The prisoner, in his defence, said he sold the horse straightforwardly, and gave it to the man.
RUSSELL* and CASTLING— Nine Months' Hard Labour each . GLOVER— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 15th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
661. JOHN MILLSON (38) PLEADED GUILTY ** to stealing a parcel containing twelve gross of Christmas cards, of Walter Scoles and another, after a conviction of felony at this Court on April 8th, 1889— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
ERNEST DACE . I am barman to Mr. Edwards, of the Rose and Crown, Tottenham Court Road—the prisoner has been a regular customer ever since I came there on Whit Monday—on 14th July he came in for half a pint of Burton, price three-halfpence, and tendered a sovereign—I put it on the money-board, where there was no other sovereign, and saw Mr. Edwards pick it up; he spoke to me about it and took it away—on July 17th, about 2.15, the prisoner came in for half a pint of cyder, for which he paid a penny; he then gave me a sovereign, and asked me to give him two halves for it, or a half-sovereign and ten shillings in silver, which I did, and gave the sovereign to Mr. Edwards—on 21st July the prisoner came again for half a pint of Burton, and tendered a sovereign—I fetched Mr. Edwards from upstairs and gave it to him, and fetched a policeman—the first sovereign was of 1888, the second 1852, and the third 1891.
Cross-examined. We do a pretty good business; a great many people come in and out—I took the sovereign on the 14th about 7.45 p.m.—when the man came in two days afterwards I did not say, "You are the man who changed a sovereign here the other day," I did not think it was my place to speak to him—on the 21st the other young man Edwards spoke to the prisoner; he is not here—he is no relation of Mr. Edwards, the proprietor—I looked at the clock as soon as I fetched Mr. Edwards down, and it was 7.45.
Re-examined. I gave the identical sovereigns to my master.
JOSEPH CHAS. EDWARDS . I am manager of the Rose and Crown, Tottenham Court Road—on 14th July I saw this sovereign of 1852 lying on the board—I took it, weighed it, wrapped it in paper and put it in the safe and kept it there till I received two others, and then took them to a jeweller's next door and had them weighed—this sovereign of 1891 came into my possession in the same way on the 17th, Friday, about midday—Dace pointed out the prisoner, who was standing at the bar drinking—I took four sovereigns to Inspector Barton, and then to a jeweller and had them weighed, and put them in the safe—I received two on the 16th, they are not the subject of this charge—about 7.45 p.m. on the 21st the prisoner came in for half a pint of Burton ale and tendered Dace a sovereign of 1888; I weighed it, and sent Dace for a policeman, and gave the prisoner in charge—he said, "If there is anything wrong with it, I got it from my governor"—I gave the three sovereigns to Inspector Barton.
Cross-examined. The ordinary practice is to put sovereigns on the money-board, and as soon as I see them I put them in the till—when we are very busy on Fridays and Saturdays the gold is placed in the till—I am almost certain it was in the middle of the day—I was not in the bar on the 21st when the prisoner came in—I believe Dace served him; I never heard till this moment that he was served by John Edwards—the prisoner gave his name and address and his master's name and address at the station—I did not go to Mr. Holman's at all on the 21st—I did not hear all the conversation between the prisoner and Barton—I heard him say, "He gave it me for my wages; he did not pay me on Saturday"—I heard him say, "I don't believe I changed more than one sovereign in that house in my life; I am sure I never changed three in a week"—he was waiting for the change from Dace when I
spoke to him—Dace had gone for the police, but the prisoner did not know that.
Cross-examined. He gave me his correct name and address.
GEORGE BARTON (Police Inspector D). On 17th July, I was on duty at the Tottenham Court Road Police-station—Mr. Edwards came and made a communication to me, and I gave him advice—on the 21st, D 356 brought the prisoner to the station a little before eight o'clock, and I said, "You will be charged with altering and diminishing three sovereigns, and uttering one on the 14th, one on the 17th, and one on the 21st"—he said, "I did not know there was anything wrong with it, if there is you must ask my governor about it, I got it from him"—I said, "Who is your governor?"—he said, "Mr. Charles, 19, Church Street, Soho"—I said, "What is he?"—he said, "A jeweller and gilder"—I said, "How did you come to get it from him to-day?"—he said, "He gave it to me for my wages, he did not pay me on Saturday"—I said, "You are identified as having passed two light sovereigns on the 14th, and one on the 17th; where did you get them from?"—he said, "I don't think I ever changed more than one sovereign in that house in my life; I am sure I never changed three in a week; my wages are never more than 30s., so I could not change three in a week, I shan't say any more till I see my governor"—I gave the sovereigns to Professor Attfield—on the 25th I went to 42, Store Street, and in the front room first-floor I found a bottle of liquid which I marked "C," and handed it to Professor Attfield, with these two others which I received from Kane—19s. 10 1/2 d. was found on him, all good.
Cross-examined. What I found on the 25th was after Kane had been there—Mrs. Sheehan was there when it was found—the bottles were in a cupboard., not locked.
JOHN KANE (Police Sergeant D). On the night of July 21st I went to the front room, first floor, of 42, Store Street, and found in a cupboard, not locked, these two bottles D and E—I handed them to Inspector Brown—on August 6th I went again, and found this bottle (F).
Cross-examined. I found no galvanic battery or wires.
ELLEN SHEEHAN . I am the wife of Benjamin Sheehan, of 42, Store Street—the prisoner has lived in my first floor front about a year and a half—he was supposed to be married, but his wife was not there—I recollect the sergeant coming to his room, and taking away some things.
Cross-examined. I had access to the room whenever I wanted to go in—my husband often went in.
EDWARD HOLMAN . I am assistant to Mr. Davie, a jeweller, of 63, Tottenham Court Road—on 17th July Mr. Edwards brought me four sovereigns to weigh; one was of 1888; I found two of them eleven grains short, one fourteen grains short, and one seventeen grains short—the average deficiency in value was about two shillings and sixpence.
Cross-examined. I formed the opinion that the whole four had been treated by an electric battery—I did not discover marks of wires.
By the COURT. My opinion is that they had been in a gilding battery, and that articles had been gilt with them.
Society of Great Britain—on July 29th I received these three bottles, C, D and E, from Inspector Barton—C is nitric acid, D is a strong solution of cyanide of potassium, and E is strong sulphuric acid—F was also handed to me; that is also a strong solution of cyanide of potassium—those fluids are used for electro-plating—the cyanide of potassium is commonly employed as the vehicle by which gold is transferred from one surface to another; the two acids are used for cleaning or "pickling" metals so that they shall more readity take a surface of gold or silver—on the 30th July I received these three sovereigns (produced) dated 1852, 1888, and 1891; that of 1891 is 18 grains and a fraction short of the current weight and 2s. 11d. short in the value; that of 1852 is 14 3/4 grains short and 2s. 5d. in value, and that of 1888 is 14 1/2 grains short and 2s. 4 1/2 d. deficient in value—the standard I have taken is the least current weight of a sovereign, 122 1/2 grains—the deficiency has been brought about by their immersion in fluids capable of dissolving gold, such as are now before me—on the 1852 sovereign there is a mark such as would be made by a wire to suspend it in, a solution of cyanide of potassium,. with a view of taking gold off it and placing it on another surface, and on the 1888 sovereign I find a blight indication of such a wire mark; in that of 1891 I find no such mark, but it has the same appearance as the other two—that of 1852 has more especially signs of the battery—the reduction does not materially affect the circulation—they would be taken by persons not accustomed to examine money closely—they have not been in circulation since they were tampered with—the deficiency could not be caused by ordinary wear and tear.
Cross-examined. There is an enormous quantity of light gold in circulation—a galvanic battery would not be necessary to do what has been done to these sovereigns; I could do it without—I have no doubt the sovereigns of 1852 and 1888 have been treated by these fluids, aided by a battery; the wire marks indicate that the coins would be suspended by wires in the solution of cyanide of potassium, with a wire at each end of the battery, one of which is in contact with the gold from which gold is to be taken, and the other with the article upon which the gold is to be deposited—the fluids would be in the possession of any electric gilder—they are used for a number of other purposes—cyanide of potassium is a powerful cleansing agent, nitric acid is used for thousands of purposes, and sulphuric acid also, and for charging batteries.
By the JURY. If the gold of a sovereign is dissolved in the acid it is easy to recover it—the cyanide is often used to clean the facia of shops and brass beer taps.
By the JURY. Gold could be got from sovereigns without a battery, but not with these fluids.
Cross-examined. I have had very large experience in examining coins—I have heard during last year that a very large quantity of the gold in circulation has been sweated—I am of opinion that these three sovereigns have been treated by the action of a battery, and polished afterwards by a brush by hand.
Witnesses for the Defence.
Soho, was established in 1821, and the prisoner has been in my employment on and off for eight or ten years; he is a man of thoroughly respectable character—on July 21st he was going out, and said as he had not had his money would I leave it out for him—I told one of the sergeants that I gave him two sovereigns and some silver, but he says it was only one—his wages were 30s. or 35s., according to whether he worked overtime—there was also some money for petty cash—he was taken in custody on that day—he often did a few little jobs at home for himself, he often asked me to allow him to have a little acid and a spirit lamp and blow-pipe and charcoal to braze articles; he had a little connection of his own, nothing to do with me—there was no concealment about his getting this sulphuric acid; supposing he was going to do repairing or cleaning, it would be necessary to clean it.
Cross-examined. I usually paid his wages on Saturdays—my wife paid him on the Saturday before—sometimes he did not come on Saturdays; I never allowed him to do work for himself in my house—I was at the Police-court on both occasions, but was not called—Sergeant Jay came to me next morning to inquire about him, as he said he had received the money from his governor; Jay asked me what money I gave him, and I said, to the best of my belief, a sovereign or half-sovereign and some silver.
Re-examined. I heard the solicitor tell the Magistrate that I was there ready to give evidence that I had given him a sovereign that day, but the Magistrate said he would send the case for trial—I instructed my solicitor to defend him.
By the JURY. I possess a battery, but I have never lent it to the prisoner—the other employes were paid on the Saturday, but the prisoner was not paid till the Tuesday.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
EMILE SCHRIER . I am a die sinker of 5, Newgate Street, and work for the Bank of England—on 11th May I first saw the prisoner; he came to my office and said in English, "Do you make business cards?"—I said, "Yes," and showed him some specimens—he gave me an order for a plate and 100 cards, price 5s., which he paid and wrote down his address—he then showed me a coin or token, with General Moltke on it; I said that that was in my line of business—he left and came again on 19th May, when I gave him the cards—he said in German, "This is very confidential," and showed me a half-crown and said, "Can you do anything like this for me?"—I said, "Yes; do you know this is a criminal case for you to order it or for me to make it?"—he said, "Yes, I know all about it; several friends on the Continent have been making mark pieces for twenty years and have not been caught"—I promised to consider the matter, and he said he would call again—I then went to the Bank of England, and was referred to the Treasury; I went there, and received instructions on the following day—on May 23rd the prisoner came again, and asked me in German if I would do the dies for him—I said, "Yes"—he said, "I have changed my mind; you had better make it half-sovereigns or sovereigns"—I said
that was for him to consider—he said, "My name is not William Schmidt, but Robert Schmidt.
Cross-examined. The conversation was in German—I translated it into English and wrote it down the moment after he left—he asked the price; I said £25 or £35; that was to make a set of dies for sovereigns—he paid me £5 on account as the work progressed, and said he would pay more—he asked me the price of a press for stamping—I said I had no idea—he said that the cards were only for a blind to find out my position—I next saw him on June 20th, and said, "I have traced out the design, and it is likely to be the thing for some time"—I put the coin in an envelope immediately—he came again on June 23rd, and paid me £2 4s.—he said the person he wrote to about the composition of the metal would not tell him for fear of getting into trouble—I next saw him on 18th July—he said he had good news; the party he wrote to on telling him he had given up all idea of making these sovereigns, and they declined to give him information—he said that a punch or die would stamp a disc out of old gun metal rolled, and the disc would be turned in a lathe to make a nice letter "H," the disc would then be placed in a battery, and a thick layer of gold deposited on it to the value of about nine shillings' worth—I said, "What a serious matter it would be for you as you are wholly inexperienced in the matter, and will have to go to strangers for everything that you require in the matter, and you are sure to get caught"—he said, "I will be very careful, and if the worst should happen I have nothing to say in my present situation in life; the country would have to keep me; I do not look upon it as a crime"—he promised not to disclose the name of who made the dies—I went on making the dies—the next interview was on August 29th; they were only half finished; I showed him two imperfect impressions; he compared them with a sovereign and said they were very well done, and nobody could detect the difference—they were finished on the Saturday morning—on the morning of September 5th I received this letter, in German, in the prisoner's writing, "Dear Mr. Schrier,—Can you possibly wait till 3.30, as it is impossible to call before"—I saw Superintendent Mitchell that morning, and handed him two coins, and one I kept—the prisoner came at 3.30; I gave him the two dies and this pewter impression, and lie went out with them; he did not pay me—they were tied up in a brown parcel—those are them.
Cross-examined. I am a Prussian; I have been seventeen years in this country, and have been at the shop in Newgate Street four years—dies and stamps for paper are my principal business—I make dies, but not coins—I have not made any dies for a great many years—I have not been charged with making coins to put them in circulation—I have made dies at Berlin, where I was apprenticed, seventeen years ago—my age is thirty-seven—that was not after the Franco Prussian war—the coins were not gold or silver; they were to represent marks—they were not made the exact counterpart of the current com of any kingdom in Germany—I did not tell the Bank of England I had done such things; I know nothing against the prisoner—I object on personal grounds to say what I do at the Bank of England; it is not my business to divulge any tiling pertaining to the Bank; I have been employed there over thirteen years—I am not paid by salary, but for the
work done—the Bank of England is not prosecuting here, although I informed them of the prisoner's second visit—this (produced) is the first memorandum I took of my conversation with the prisoner—at that date I knew that the proposition he put to me was highly criminal—I had never seen a case of the kind before—I knew he was a countryman of mine—I did not deliver him from evil instead of leading him into temptation because I thought he was a very dangerous man, and being connected with the Bank, I thought it was my duty to inform them—I did not entice him—the Bank did not pay me; the Treasury instructed me to go on, and if he called I was to make the dies—I did not send this piece of paper to the Treasury—I found out afterwards that he was a most inexperienced man—no other person heard the conversation between us—I have never given evidence before.
Re-examined. No charge has ever been made against me—after the German War a number of medals were struck with figures of Emperors and Kings—what I did was under instructions.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Police Inspector). I have watched the prisoner since May 23rd, and have seen him go into Mr. Schrier's house, and always alone—I have known Mr. Schrier a considerable time; he has carried on business a long time—I have from time to time given him instructions what to do with regard to the prisoner—on September 5th, I was watching outside Mr. Schrier's door; he struck off two of these pewter coins, and gave them to me—about 3.15 p.m. the prisoner left Mr. Schrier with a brown paper parcel, holding it with a string—I stopped him and said, "We are police officers; I shall charge you with having in your possession a die for the purpose of counterfeiting a coin called a sovereign"—he looked at me and immediately dropped the parcel—I picked it up and told the officer to take him to the station; I followed, and when I got there I found it contained this die—he said, "I gave the order to make the die, but I never said I was going to make sovereigns"—he gave a correct address.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to the Mint—these are a pair of steel dies made from a sovereign of 1891—they would strike off an exact representation of a sovereign, but it would be with a plain edge—there is a slight variation in the portrait; I can tell that this is not a Mint die; these are specimens taken from it.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY — Six Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 16th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
her from time to time up to Easter last, nearly every day—I have seen her in drink about four times a week—no one had charge of the baby but herself—one day at the front door she had the baby and the other two children in the perambulator; they were crying; she pushed the perambulator, and it went over—she was drunk then—I have seen the child once or twice very dirty—it was fed by the bottle.
The prisoner. Why did you not assist me?
Witness. Because you insulted me.
ELLEN HEATH . I am the wife of George Heath, a labourer, of 34, Newton Road, Page Green—I saw the prisoner there with a baby on her lap—she said at first it was twelve months old, afterwards said it was eight months, and that it was her own child—it was rather dirty—I once gave it a cake and some milk, because it was crying and hungry; it was very ravenous—I told the prisoner I thought it was completely starving—she turned round on me and said, "Mind your own business"—she said her husband had gone away from her—some gentleman offered her a shilling to buy the children some food—she said she should only do the same with it as she had been doing, spend it in four ale—she was then the worse for drink—she said she would throw the baby away; she held it so, and I took it out of her hands, and took it to the station, and she was also taken there—she attempted to run away.
JAMES SNOSWELL (Y 434). I was living at 114, Seymour Street, Euston Road, on the top floor—at the end of June the prisoner, her husband, and three children came to live there in two unfurnished rooms on the first floor; the baby was about eight months old—between the end of June and 1st August the prisoner was in the habit of taking drink—I have seen her the worse for drink on several occasions—the husband was out during the day; the prisoner had charge of the children—on 19th July, at a quarter to eleven, I saw a large crowd outside the door; the prisoner was there drunk and creating a disturbance; a little boy was holding her baby—she was not able to do so—she would not go indoors or be quiet, and I took her into custody and took her to the station, and took the child to the workhouse—it was very thin and dirty, and had diarrhœa; it remained in the workhouse till the following Saturday—I saw the prisoner on that day bring the child upstairs—on Sunday, 2nd August, she was in and out during the day when the public-houses were open, getting drunk—there was no one to look after the baby but herself—the child was very ill that day—she was away from it for half-an-hour or an hour at a time—she would come in about eight or half-past the worse for drink, and incapable; my wife has had to help her to bed—on 3rd August I saw the child in its cot; it was very dirty, and smelt; the prisoner was out at that time—I did not see her till she came home at night—I went to Arbour Square and gave information.
MAGGIE SNOSWELL . I am the wife of the last witness—on Bank holiday, 3rd August, the baby was very ill; it was very thin and very dirty—the prisoner was out that day—I found the baby's bottle was sour; I cleaned it, and gave it some fresh milk—the prisoner came home about eight the worse for drink.
CHARLES WILLIAM SHIELDS . I am an officer of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children—on 1st July, from information, I went to 114, Seymour Street; I there saw the prisoner and the baby—the
baby was lying in a cot, which was very dirty; the baby was also very dirty with its own excrement, and the bed was wet with urine; I believe it was then in good health, but very thin and emaciated—on 4th August I again saw it; it looked very ill, dying; it was very dirty, and the bed also—I asked if she had got a doctor—she said she had taken it to Dr. Smith on Saturday, and he had given it some medicine—I saw a small bottle in the room; it was more than half full—she said she had not given it any medicine since the Sunday—she was the worse for drink on the Tuesday; she was sober on the 1st.
WILLIAM BENCE SMITH . I am a surgeon of 14, Clarendon Square, St. Pancras—the prisoner brought the child to my surgery on Saturday, 1st August, about seven; it had a bad cough and cold; it was in a very emaciated condition, a pinched face and limp—on examining the chest I found it was suffering from a severe attack of bronchitis—I told the prisoner that it was very wrong to bring the child out of doors in its condition, that it ought to have been seen to—she said she had just brought it from the workhouse, that she had been in trouble, that she was obliged to bring it out, and she brought it to see me—I examined it, it appeared very clean, and nice and tidy; I prescribed for it—I told her it was very ill and in a very serious condition, and not to bring it out again, but I would see it at home the following morning (Sunday)—I gave her some medicine, I think she had two bottles—I told her to give it according to the directions every three hours—the child seemed easy and more comfortable on Sunday—the medicine would last about a day and a half, if taken regularly, if it was very bad—if she had done that the bottle would not have been as full as it was, it would have been nearly empty—on the Sunday I saw the child lying in a cot in the back room; it appeared as well as I could expect—I told her to go on with the remedies, to keep it wrapped up in cotton wool, and rub it with camphor oil—on Monday I went again, it was then in a very dirty filthy condition—I did not see the prisoner then, I saw the husband—I did not go again, and I noticed nothing about the buttock on the Saturday night—on the Monday there were excoriations, the buttock was inflamed—I did not see the child after death.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You said in your husband's presence on Saturday night that you did not think the child would go through the night—I thought so too—it seemed in a critical state from the bronchitis.
JOHN THOMPSON . I am a medical practitioner, of 70, Oakley Square, Camden Town—on Wednesday night, 5th August, I was called to 114 between twelve and one—I went to the first-floor and saw the child in a back room; it was dying, and the extremities were perfectly cold, the eyes sunken, and it was in a very dirty state, quite uncared for—I saw the prisoner; she was in the front room, in bed, asleep—I did not see whether she was under the influence of drink; the husband said she was—the child died during the night—I afterwards made a post-morten—it weighed 8lb. 1oz.—the normal weight of a child of that age would be between 16 and 18lb.—the immediate cause of death was pneumonia, inflammation of the lungs—it also had bronchitis and diarrhoea—the gut was perfectly empty; there was no fat at all on the child—there was no organic disease—a child not sufficiently attended to and not kept clean would be more likely to succumb to pneumonia—children so neglected very often die from that disease—diarrhœa would arise from improper
and irregular feeding—I noticed excoriation about the buttocks; that would be due to neglect and uncleanliness.
FREDERICK COBB (Police Sergeant Y). On 19th July I saw the prisoner and her baby at the Police-station—the baby was very thin, emaciated, and very much inflamed in the buttocks and private parts—it was taken to the workhouse on the 19th—the prisoner was brought before the Magistrate next day—I arrested the prisoner after the inquest on 14th August—she had seven days in prison from the 19th—I read the warrant to her—she said, "Can they hang me for it?"—she repeated that when the charge was read over at the station.
The prisoner, in her statement before the Magistrate, asserted that she had always done her duty by the child, but it was always ailing.
GUILTY .— One Month. She was also charged, on the Coroner's Inquisition, with the manslaughter of the child, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ARTHUR GILL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. FULTON offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT .—Wednesday, September 16th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
668. LOUIS GIOVANNI (21) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch and chain and other articles, the property of Bagnari Agostino; also to obtaining goods by false pretences from Giuseppe Lattanzia; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Andrea Peconini, and stealing twelve bottles of wine and other articles, having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell on February 17th, 1890.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
669. REGINALD HUSKINSON (21) and DENNIS BRYANT (21) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Macchi Costello Wren, and stealing a bodice and other articles; also to another indictment for burglary. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] HUSKINSONalso PLEADED GUILTY to two other indictments for burglary.— Nine Months' Hard Labour each. And
(670) WILLIAM URQUHART (62) to stealing a strap, a coat, and other articles, the property of Elijah Storey, after a conviction at this Court on 9th March, 1891.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
saw a butler standing at the area gate of No. 53; it was the prisoner—he and another man were joking, and he asked me to come down the area steps and he would give me some champagne and a half-sovereign—I went down to the basement; he opened a bottle of champagne, and we drank it—I said, "I don't like it, it is very tart"—he said, "It cost five guineas a dozen, and it is very dry"—I asked him for the tea shillings; he gave me four shillings and this postcard that I might find him (Addressed to Mrs. Reiss)—he let down a bed from the wall, and I did not leave him till 3.50—he asked if I should like some champagne and some wine—I said, "Yes," and he gave me a bottle of champagne and two of wine; he rolled them up in some things, which were afterwards found—the night-shirt came off the bed as far as I remember, and he pat some strawberries in—the hamper was fastened up with a string—I do not know whether he gave me anything else; I was too boozed—I went out by the area door, and fastened it after me—soon afterwards a policeman took the hamper from me and locked me up—I was brought up at the Police-court the same morning and was remanded, when the prisoner said he had never seen me—I was sentenced to one day's imprisonment.
Cross-examined. They charged me with unlawful possession, and I said I got it in Pimlico Road—I did not know what I was saying—I forget now I got the pencil-case—I may have been at the station four times—I was there for drink; I am a brave Irish lady—I was sensibly drunk; I could stand—I expect the prisoner was as drunk as I was; he drank the champagne the same as I did—I had a good drop of drink before I saw him—I left the house about seven minutes to four by the prisoner's watch on the table—the prisoner gave his evidence one day—the case was remanded till July 29th, and then there was another remand, and on the third occasion Mr. De Rutzen convicted me.
HENRY WHITTINGTON . I am second clerk at Westminster Police-court—on 25th July I was present when Mary Walsh was charged with being in unlawful possession of a hamper, a bottle of champagne, two bottles of claret, a pencil-case, and other articles—this is the charge-sheet (produced)—the prisoner was called as a witness, and sworn—Mr. De Rutzen was the Magistrate—the prosecutor said that he was butler to the last witness, and had never seen the prisoner before, and that the champagne and claret were the same as used by his master; that he had charge of the wine, and that which was unused after dinner was kept in a collarette—she then interjected that he gave them to her—he continued, "I did not give you the postcard produced; the address on it is my lady's"—Mr. De Rutzen remanded her to July 29th, when the prisoner gave further evidence—he said, "I made a mistake last Saturday, saying I did not see the woman in the house; I said the back door was locked, and it was not locked. I went to rest at 11.45 in my room. I went out into the back yard. I had had some drink. The prisoner came into my room; she wanted 10s. I had nothing to do with her, and she left the room, etc. Cross-examined. You came down the area steps; I did not bring you in. I did not find you the drink. I had not connection with you. I did not see where the hamper came from"—at the conclusion of the evidence she was remanded to August 4th, and then sentenced to one day's imprisonment.
Cross-examined. The only charge against her that was made was unlawful possession without giving a satisfactory account of it—the
witnesses were called by the police, and questions put by the Magistrate and the prisoner, and sometimes by the clerk—the evidence on the first occasion was read over, not to the man, but to refresh the Magistrate's memory—the evidence on the second occasion was read, but not signed—the witnesses were recalled and examined again; there was then another remand, and then the Magistrate convicted of the unlawful possession.
JAMES WEBSTER (A 322). On 24th July, about five a.m., I stopped Mary Walsh; she had a hamper with her; I took her to the station; it contained a bottle of champagne and two bottles of claret wrapped up in a night-shirt and a merino-vest and a tea-cloth—the female searcher handed me a silver pencil-case and four shillings and sixpence in silver—I saw initials on the tea-cloth—she was brought up at the Police-court; Mr. Reiss and the prisoner gave evidence—I found this post-card on Walsh, and went to the place, and brought Mr. Reiss and the prisoner to the Court.
Cross-examined. She refused to stop or to say where she got it—she refused her address and occupation at first; I went to Mr. Reiss about nine next morning, and saw the prisoner—the case came on at the Police-court soon after ten, and lasted more than a quarter of an hour.
GEORGE EDWARDS (Police Sergeant B). On 25th July I took charge of the case against Mary Walsh—after the charge was heard I went to 53, Sloane Street, and saw the prisoner—that was after he had given evidence—I saw him with his master at six p.m., and said, "This woman tells me you asked her down the area steps, and let her into the house and gave her the property"—he said, "It is a great untruth," and I think he said, "I never saw the woman"—on the evening of 28th July, the day before the remand, I saw him in Sloane Street, and warned him to attend the Court on the following day; he said, "I will be there; I made a mistake, I did let her into the house; if I had been in my sober senses I should never have done so, but I swear on my oath I never gave her the property."
Cross-examined. I found that the prisoner has been in his master's service about fourteen years, and has always borne a most excellent character—I have ascertained that he was drunk on the 24th, and he had the appearance of it on the 25th when he left the Court, and when I saw him later on he appeared very much excited and upset about what had happened—Walsh said, "He promised me 10s., but he did not give it to me"—the prisoner has lost his situation.
Re-examined. His master discharged him, but refused to prosecute him for stealing the wine—I do not think the prisoner was still suffering from the effects of drink when I saw him at 6.30 p.m.
JAMES EDWARD REISS . I am a merchant—I had the house, 53, Sloane Street, for the summer—the prisoner was my butler—on July 25th I was fetched to the Police-court, and identified a night-shirt and tea-cloth as mine, and this post-card, which had been sent to Mrs. Reiss—this champagne is the same brand as mine, and is expensive—the claret is similar to mine.
Cross-examined. During the thirteen years he was in my service he was a well-conducted man—he came into my service with a good character. GUILTY — Four Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 16th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. C.F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted.
LUDWIG MULLER . I am in the service of Mr. Schwarer, a watchmaker, of 14, Green Street, Bethnal Green; I sleep there—he keeps watches in the window—on the night of 7th July the shop was properly fastened up, and the outside shutters were up—about midnight I was roused up; I went into the shop and found the shutters were down, and one of the windows was smashed—I missed fifteen silver watches, worth £17, from the window—I was shown some of them at the Police-court; they were Mr. Schwarer's property—these are two—I missed no gold ones.
DAVID GILCHRIST (J 76). About ten minutes to twelve on the night of 7th July I was on duty, and my attention was attracted by a smash of glass—I looked towards the place and saw Hescott and three others in front of the shop No. 14—I saw Hescott with his arm in the shop, and he handed something to Lack—while that was taking place some signal was given, and the men ran away—I followed Lack over 200 yards; I am quite sure he is the man—a knife and a watch were afterwards picked up in the direction he ran—I found this watch price-ticket at the corner of Digby Street, and this one at the corner of Globe Street, on the ground he had gone over—this watch and a piece of cloth were picked up just outside the window—I was present when a watch was picked up—I next saw Lack on 15th, when he was in custody.
Cross-examined by Lack. I was on the opposite side of the road about. thirty yards off when I saw you receiving the property from Hescott—I was close behind you when you ran away, I was almost getting hold of you—you turned round and looked me right fair in the face—I saw your full face; I have no doubt about you.
DANIEL PACKER (J 146). About midnight on 7th July I heard cries of "Stop him!" and "Stop thief!" in James Street, about one hundred yards from the shop—I saw Hescott running very fast away from the direction of Green Street—I ran after and caught him, but he wrested himself out of my grasp and ran for two hundred yards—I followed him through a court into Globe Road—I was getting exhausted, and shouted to another constable to stop him—he did so—as Hescott was stopped he put his right hand into his right hand coat pocket; I caught hold of his hand, and he took these two watches with these tickets on them from his pocket—he put his left hand into his other coat pocket and pulled out a life preserver, which he dropped in the road—he was taken to the station and charged—this small jemmy was found on him.
JAMES SILVER . I live at Burnham Square, Bethnal Green—on the night of 7th July I was in the Rising Sun—some time after 12 o'clock I heard cries of "Stop thief!" and going out I saw a man in a light coat running—I heard something drop, and I picked up this knife, which I gave to my brother—to the best of my belief Lack was the man I saw running.
Cross-examined. I was about fifteen or twenty yards from you—I
only saw your back; you are just about the build of the man—I did not notice what hat you wore.
JOHN SILVER . I am the last witness's brother—I was in the public-house with him on this night—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and I came out and saw Gilchrist running after the prisoner—I followed as far as Digby Close—I picked up this watch and Knife.
Cross-examined. We took the watches to the station the same night.
GEORGE GODLEY (Policeman). I have seen Hescott and Lack together—I saw them together about the 1st or 2nd July this year—on 15th July, about 8 a.m., from information, I went to Chapel Street, where I saw Lack in bed with a woman, Susan Lack—a man, Montgomery, was asleep in a bedstead chair in the same room—I said to Lack, "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with Charles Hescott, in custody, for breaking a jeweller's shop window and stealing fifteen watches "—he said, "I can get six people to prove that I was not there at the time "—I had said nothing about the time then—he said, "When was it?"—I said, "It was about a quarter to twelve on Tuesday, July 7th'—he said to the female, "You can prove that I was in bed and asleep at the time?"—she said, "Yes "—I took the prisoner and Montgomery to the station in a cab with Sergeant Nursey—on the way Lack said to Montgomery, "I should like to know who put us away; if I do I will cut their b—y heads off when I come out—they also whispered together—I could not hear the other words because of the rattle of the cab—at the station a list of property not relating to this charge was read over—among the things was a jemmy, and when Helson read that out Lack said, "A jemmy; what is that?"—at the same time he saw it in Helson's hand, and he said, "Oh, that; that is our coal-hammer, which has been in our family for years"—this jemmy was found in a cupboard in the room where Lack was sleeping.
Cross-examined. There were two women in the room with you, one was dressed—the charge was booked about 7 or 8 o'clock p.m., on 15th; I took you into charge at 8 a.m.—several people tried to pick you out—the constable came to identify you a long time after you came in; I don't know how long he waited before identifying you—Pearce found this jemmy; I did not touch it—I came into your room with a revolver; I heard you carried one.
ALBERT PEARCE (Sergeant H). I was at the house in Chapel Street on 15th July, when Lack was taken into custody—I found this coalhammer in a cupboard—at the station Lack and Montgomery were charged with breaking into a shop in Green Street—Lack turned to Montgomery and said, "God blind me, they have done me for the jeweller's; he had not got a red one in the shop "—I understood by that a gold watch—Montgomery was discharged by the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. I did not make this statement to the Magistrate for two weeks, because I was not called—several other officers were present when you said it; I don't know if they heard you; I was standing close to you and wrote down the words as you said them—it was in the library when Helson told you what you would be charged with—you and the woman Montgomery were together.
Re-examined. The arrest was on the 15th, and I gave my evidence on the remand on the 22nd.
six weeks before the 7th July I have seen them together and with others—I have seen them wearing each other's coats.
Cross-examined. Only four or five days before Hescott was arrested, I saw you with him within 150 yards of where this offence was committed—I refused to allow you to change your clothing after you came from Chapel Street.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Lack says: "I know nothing of it; it is all a trumped up affair. "Hescott says: "I own to being concerned in this, but this man, Albert Lack, was not one of them."
Lack in his defence asserted his innocence, and stated that he had not seen Hescott for two years.
LACK GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in May, 1887. HESCOTT also PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony.— Three Years' Penal Servitude each.
673. ALEXANDER HEIM PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a receipt for £10 14s. 5d., and also to stealing £10 15s. 3d., the money of his master. Mr. HUTTON, for the Prosecution, recommended the prisoner to mercy. Several witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.— Judgment respited.
(675). HUGH TITUS CRAWFORD* (36) , to feloniously marrying Florence Grosutt during the lifetime of his wife; also to marrying Alice Mary Ann Adams during the lifetime of his wife. There was another indictment against the prisoner for unlawfully obtaining money from Jane Elizabeth Grosutt by false pretences, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 17th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MR. HURRELL Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended Hindle.
No evidence was offered as to Hepworth ( NOT GUILTY ), who was afterwards examined as a witness.
HINDLE— GUILTY — Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
CHARLES BRIDGEN (375 E). On the 8th August, about 7.25 p.m., I was in St. Martin's Lane; I saw a woman cross from the kerb from east to west, in front of a covered van, which was about seven yards in front of her—she cleared the horse's head by about two yards—all at once I heard a cry of "Oh!"—I then saw the prisoner driving a pony-trap, with two other men in it, on the off side of the road, in rear of the van—he was driving at a most furious rate; he dashed past the van, when there was instantly a scream—I ran round the rear of the van, and there
saw the woman lying on the flat of her back, her petticoats entangled with the near step of the trap, and the near wheel skidded her along ten or twelve yards into the centre of the road—a man was holding the pony's head, trying to stop it—at the same time police constable Barber, in plain clothes, came up—with his assistance we extricated the woman from the wheel of the trap and carried her on to the pavement—I sent to Charing Cross Hospital for an ambulance, and the woman was taken there—the prisoner was also taken there—I took him into custody and took him to Bow Street Police-station—I there charged him with furiously driving and causing bodily harm to the woman—I should say he was driving at the pace of between thirteen and fourteen miles an hour.
Cross-examined. The prisoner made no reply to the charge—I believe he was sober—he said he had not taken anything for three months—ho did not say it was an accident; not to me—I was about nine to ton yards in front of the van at the time the woman left the pavement—she was just in front of the horse's head when she was knocked down—I did not see her knocked down; the van was thon more than half way past mo—I did not see the cart till I hoard the shout—I did not say at the Police-court that I saw nothing of the pony-trap till the woman had been knocked down—the van was going at a walking pace—it was a fine day—the pavement was quite dry—I did not say it had been raining and that it was slippery; I said it might have been; the road was not slippery—the pony was a small one, about thirteen hands high—I did not see a four-wheeled cab there.
JAMES BARBER (E 318). On Saturday, 8th August, about half-past seven, I was in St. Martin's Lane, standing by the board on the side of the Orange Grove Restaurant, almost facing 109—I was on the right hand Hide going into the direction of Holborn—I heard a cry—I turned my head and saw a trap going in the direction of Trafalgar Square, and a woman under the wheels—she was dragged a distance of about ton yards—I ran in company with 375 and assisted in getting her from under the wheels—her dress had caught in the step—she was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. The trap was about ten yards from the woman when it was stopped—I did not see it till the woman was knocked down.
JOHN MITCHELL On 8th August, about half-past seven in the evening, I was walking up St. Martin's Lane on the right hand side; when I got towards New Street I saw a pony-trap with three men in it coming down the lane at a tremendous pace—when it got towards the bottom of the lane I saw the woman knocked down by the trap—as far as I could judge, the trap was going at the rate of twelve or fourteen miles an hour—I was perhaps two hundred yards off when the accident happened.
Cross-examined. I have never driven horses—this was a small pony—I saw the woman actually knocked down—I did not see her before.
THOMAS LEWIS . I live at 55, St. Martin's Lane—on the evening of 8th August, about a quarter-past seven, I was standing at my door—I saw a trap going at a very furious rate, with three persons in it—I heard some people screaming, and saw the woman fall down suddenly—I was about one hundred and fifty yards off—the furious rate at which the trap was going called my attention to it.
Cross-examined. The trap pulled up almost immediately, within a few yards—the road was remarkably clear.
EDWARD LEEK . I was walking along St. Martin's Lane, and saw the trap coming down at a tremendous pace; and as I crossed the road I saw the woman knocked down—she was dragged along—I saw the prisoner standing in the middle of the road; I went up to him and said, "You have killed that woman "—he said, "She is only stunned; I never ran over her "—she was dead.
Cross-examined. When I first saw the trap it was about twenty yards from the woman—the horse was not beaten; the pony was a fast goer—the prisoner had a whip in his hand when I saw him in the road.
ALFRED BARISTOW . I am a labourer—I was in St. Martin's Lane—I heard a shout, and saw the woman being dragged along by the trap—the prisoner and two men were in the trap—it was stopped—the prisoner was trying to pull up, but could not; it was coming down hill.
Cross-examined. The road was a little slippery—the prisoner was doing his boat to stop the pony, and it was stopped within ten yards of the accident.
CHARLES GIBBS , M.R.C.S. I was house surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital on 8th August—the deceased was admitted there about twenty minutes to eight—she was suffering from intense shook, and was evidently dying—she died from shock from ruptured liver—the fifth rib was broken—such an occurrence as this would account for it.
JOHN WOOD (Inspector E). On 8th August, about half-past nine, I went to Charing Cross Hospital, and saw the deceased woman there—I then went back and charged the prisoner with causing her death—lie said, "I am very sorry, sir; it was quite an accident"—he was perfectly sober.
JAMES BIRD . I keep a shop in New Street, Covent Garden, two doors from St. Martin's Lane—I was standing about two hundred yards from where the accident took place—I saw the trap go by at a very rapid rate—the pace attracted my notice—I ran to the corner and stood there—I did not see the accident—I should say the pony was going at the rate of fifteen or sixteen miles an hour.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I left home about seven on Saturday evening. I met a veterinary surgeon, and had a bottle of ginger beer. Coming along St. Martin's Lane a covered van was coming down, a four-wheeled cab was coming up, and pulled into the near side. I heard somebody shout, 'Oh!' I pulled up as soon as possible. The woman was against the step of the cart; it caught her clothes and knocked her down. The trap was not going more than seven miles an hour. The road was very slippery and greasy. "
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY REED . I am a horse-keeper, and live at 5, Compton Street, Brunswick Square—I have known the prisoner for some years—on this day I met him in Thanet Street, Euston Road—I got into the trap with him—we mot Varley in Judd Street, and he got up—we drove to Hunter Street to see a gentleman—we went down St. Martin's Lane, and saw a van—the woman was in front of the van on the kerb—she came to the horse's head right into the trap, and the step caught her clothing—the roads were very greasy—the prisoner pulled up immediately, as soon as
he could, in about six yards—he was not going at more than seven miles an hour—the pony is eleven hands high.
Cross-examined. The woman crossed from the kerb in front of the van, and we knocked her down.
WILLIAM VARLEY . I am a timekeeper to an Omnibus Association, and live at 54, Rochester Row, Kentish Town—on this Saturday I met the prisoner with the trap in Judd Street—I got into the trap with him—we drove to St. Martin's Lane; just as we got half-way down, the woman went across the road in front of the van—we had not seen her till we were right on her; there was no chance of avoiding her; the van was in the way—we were going between six or seven miles an hour—the pony was not eleven hands high.
JOSEPH BARTLETT . I am a carman, and live at 2, Charles Buildings, St. Martin's Lane—I was in St. Martin's Lane, and saw the woman knocked down by the pony-trap—I saw it before the woman was knocked down—the trap was going between seven and eight miles an hour.
SAMUEL MAYNARD . I live at 19, Farringdon Street, and am a horse-dealer—this pony was mine—I have had it measured; it does not stand eleven hands high—a little girl has been driving it—I sold it to the prisoner; it will go ten or eleven miles an hour, but you must put pace on him to do it.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted..
GUILTY — Two Years' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted. GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. A. GILL Defended.
CHARLES ROBERTS . I am a bootmaker, of 115, Canterbury Road—three or four months ago Mrs. Smith, the prisoner's wife, took a room on my top floor, and a day or two afterwards the prisoner came and lived
with her—on August 11th there were sounds of quarrelling between them, angry voices, and also the breaking of furniture—it had gone on the greater part of the night, and was continued up to between seven and eight a.m.—the prisoner used a lot of threats to his wife, and said he was going away to the North of England, and before he left he would set fire to the b----lot—he came down stairs, and half an hour after that I noticed smoke from the prisoner's window, and called a constable, went into the room, and found one mattress had been torn open from side to side, and the shavings taken out and set light to—the other mattress was lying on the floor by the burning shavings—the constable put out the fire—the prisoner said that he set fire to it, and he was perfectly entitled to burn his own property; I cannot say whether they were his, but they were not mine—the constable took him to the station—he seemed perfectly sober, but he had evidently been drinking the night before—I was trying to legally eject him; Mrs. Smith wanted to go, but he did not; she and other lodgers were in the house.
Cross-examined. He seemed very angry in his quarrel with his wife—he appeared in the morning to have recovered from stale drink—there was an iron bedstead and a box in the room, but no other furniture.
Re-examined. The planks of the floor were charred by the fire, but not much, about as much as the palm of your hand—his wife had just left the room.
ALFRED BOURNE (46 X R). On 8th August the prisoner's wife called me, and I went to this house in Canterbury Road to the top floor, and found the room full of smoke—the prisoner went up with me from the street into the room—I saw the shavings burning, and threw about a pailful of water upon them, which put them out—I asked him how it occurred—he said he struck a match to light his pipe and threw it down—I called his attention to the mattress being torn and the shavings taken out; he said he did not know how that occurred, he slept on it last night—I said I was not satisfied with his answer, and the landlady gave him in custody—I did not see or smell any tobacco in the room—I did not search him.
ARTHUR CLARK (Police Sergeant X). On 11th August, about ten o'clock, I went to this house with Mr. Edwards, of the Fire Brigade, and saw the shavings lying there—I saw a box of matches and two pipes on the mantelpiece, but no tobacco in the pipes—I searched the prisoner at the station, but found no pipe on him, or tobacco or matches—when the charge was read over, he said, "I know nothing about it."
THOMAS EDWARDS . I am superintendent of the Willesden Fire Brigade—I went with Clark to this house, and found charred shavings, partly on the floor and partly on the hearth—the mattress was charred—I did not notice the planks of the room.
GEORGE OLIVER . I am a builder of 37, Stafford Street, Marylebone—on 11th May, about 9 a.m., I went to Canterbury Road and saw the prisoner and his wife outside quarrelling—she said, "You are a great vagabond, you won't work yourself and won't let me work; you are starving me and the children "—Roberts spoke to the constable and asked the prisoner if he knew his rooms were on fire—he said, "No," and the constable said he would have to go with him and see whether it was right or wrong.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 17th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
684. WILLIAM CHATHAM (15) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Molineux, and stealing cigars and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in June, 1890.— Discharged on recognisances.
685. GEORGE WILLIAMS (34) , to unlawfully obtaining from Emily Dunbar 18s. 8d. by false pretences, and other sums from other persons, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eight Month' Hard Labour. And
(686). CLEMENT ALLEN (45) , to unlawfully obtaining a cheque for £12 10s. from Elizabeth Baxter, by false pretences, with intent to defraud. There were other indictments against the prisoner for forgery and for larceny. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Recommended to mercy.—Judgment respited.
MR. BURNTE Prosecuted.
THOMAS SMITH . I live at 2, The Elms, Boston Road, Brentford, and am a dealer in fine arts—I went to bed on 13th August about 10.30 p.m., leaving the house safely locked up, as far as I know; I can safely trust my servants—about a quarter-past four on the following morning I was aroused by a knocking at the next door to mine; I afterwards found that was because the next house had been broken into—I waited till I heard my next door neighbour in conversation with the constable on the lawn in front of the house, and then I came downstairs and found my breakfast parlour window had been forced open and the room was in great disorder, and my plate-basket was emptied, and the contents were twisted and bent about, but only one piece, the cream jug, was taken; the rest were left behind—I also missed a marble clock from the mantelpiece, and a plated jam server, and eight table napkins—the value of all the articles would be about £4—this is my clock (produced).
ROSINA HADDON . I am Mr. Smith's cook—at half-past ten on the night of 13th August I examined the breakfast-room window before I went to bed; it was properly fastened—I came out of that room, which is in the front on the ground-floor, and I locked the door.
HARRY MORGAN (Detective Inspector T). On 14th August about 10 a.m., I examined the front breakfast-room of Mr. Smith's house, and I found an entry had been effected by throwing back the catch of the window with some instrument—the window was not then open; it had been shut.
FREDERICK WOOD (Detective T). About 9 p.m. on 14th August I saw the two prisoners walking together in High Street, Brentford, near the Ealing Road, each carrying a carpenter's basket similar to this—I followed them to Kew Bridge, where I saw Ambrose, a uniform constable—I called him to assist me, and stopped the prisoners—I said to them, "I am a police officer; I wish to know the contents of the bags you are carrying'—Tyson said, "It is all right"—Wright said, "We will go to the station "—I went with Wright towards the station, and Ambrose followed with Tyson—at the corner of Pottery Road, Wright slipped the bag from his shoulder and I fell over it, and he immediately ran up the Pottery Road—I ran after him and blew my whistle and shouted, and at the corner of Netley Road Wright disappeared—I looked round;
it was very dark—I saw a doorway into a yard—I entered, and groped round the walls, and found the prisoner crouching at the side where the dusthole is—I said, "You will stop here till I get assistance"—he struggled, and tried to get out; I blew my whistle again—he said, "You know nothing; let me go"—I was in plain clothes—we had several struggles, and he got out into the road—he then promised to go quietly, and he did so for a few yards, and then he caught me up and attempted to throw me; he fell on the ground, and I on top of him—two other men came up to my assistance, and I got him into the Pottery Road; he struggled all the way going to the station—at the station I examined the contents of his and Tyson's baskets; Tyson was at the station when I arrived—I found in the baskets the property that has been described, some in each—they were charged in the usual way—Wright, I believe, said they did not know anything about the breaking into the house—I found in Wright's pocket this match, and the portion of a broken handle of a jug.
JOHN AMBROSE (T 203). On 14th August I was on duty at Kew Bridge when Wood called my attention to the prisoners, who were carrying baskets—we stopped them, and asked what they had in their baskets—they said, "We won't tell you here now; we will go to the station with you "—on the way to the station Wright dropped his basket, Wood fell over it; Wright ran away—I picked up the bag—I took Tyson into custody, and conveyed him and the property to the station—this is the bag Wright was carrying.
THOMAS SMITH (Re-examined). 'The things in these baskets are my property—Mr. Hale, my neighbour, found this match, but I have found some similar to it in my premises since the robbery—it is similar to the matches I am in the habit of using, but my next door neighbour is not in the habit of using them.
EBENEZER HALL . I live at the Elms, next door to the prosecutor—I found this match on my premises after they had been broken into—I do not use matches like it—the gas had been lit in my rooms, and left burning.
The prisoners, in their statements before the Magistrate, said they were not guilty of breaking in, Wright, in his defence, said that every working man who smoked used the same kind of match.
GUILTY of receiving.
WRIGHT then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1889, at this Court. There was another indictment against the prisoners for another burglary.
WRIGHT.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. TYSON.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday 17th; and OLD COURT.—Friday, September 18th, 1891.
689 THOMAS EDWARDS (25), to burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Thomas Treveston, and to a conviction of felony at this Court in December, 1886.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months' Hard labour.
691. GEORGE BROWN (50) , to being found at night time in the dwelling-house of Arthur Townley with intent to commit a felony, and to a previous conviction of felony in September, 1866. He received a good character since his previous conviction.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four Days' Imprisonment.
692. GEORGE WILLIAMS (28) , to obtaining by false pretences from Harold Bertie Richards and others four scarf-pins and other goods, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
693. DAVID BARRY **, to obtaining by false pretences from Emily Beeton and another a case of lemons with intent to defraud, and to a conviction at this Court in September, 1889.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
694. CHARLES WILLIAMS** (24) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joseph Rivers, and stealing £6, his property, and to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in October, 1889, in the name of Albert Briggs.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude.
695. JOHN MIERS (50) and EMILY MIERS (34) , to three indictments for stealing a blanket, a counterpane, and other goods, the property of Henry Johnston and another. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] JOHN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. EMILY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
(698). GEORGE THORPE (52) , to embezzling £16 9s. 6d., £9 3s., and £15 13s. of Sir Henry Peek, Bart., his master; also, £12 18s. 9d., £15 1s. 6d., and £10 16s. 9d.; also, for stealing £85 of his said master. The prisoner's defalcations amounted to £15,000.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
LIPMAN KROLIK . I have been in England three years—I am a diamond merchant, of 24, Hatton Garden—I have known the prisoner about twelve months—before July 20th I let him have a parcel of diamonds, worth about £80, which he returned—I had done no other business with him till then—I did not know where he lived—on 20th July I saw him in the street at Hatton Garden—he said, "I have been commissioned by the Australian shipping-house of Hoffmann and Co. to show them about two hundred carats of diamond melee; I will go at once with them, and bring the goods back if not sold"—I went to Lindenbaum, Weil, and Co., of 25, Hatton Garden—I received from them two parcels of diamond?, one weighing five and five-eighths carats, at £5 15s. a carat, and the other ninety three and a half carats at £5 10s. a carat—I told the prisoner the price—that was in a Hatton Garden restaurant—I handed him the parcels—I opened my pocket-book and showed him a parcel of 57 1/2 carats of melee at £4 10s. a carat, and a pair of brilliants weighing 26 carats at £8 10s. a carat, a single brilliant 6 carats at £16 a carat, and 71 carats of white brilliants at £12 a carat—when he saw them he
said, "These goods are just the goods Messrs. Hoffimann want to buy"—I then gave him the goods, and he said, "I will show them at once, and be back as soon as possible "—to Hatton Garden—I gave him those six parcels about eleven o'clock—I returned to my office—at 12.30 I saw him again at. the restaurant—he showed me an envelope which was fastened down, on which was written "£5," and the initials "H. and Co. "—he gave me the envelope, and said, "This is the price "—Mr. Abrahams had the envelope—I last saw it in his possession at his office—that was the next (Tuesday) morning—Mr. Abrahams took it out and put it back in his drawer—when I first saw the envelope it was fastened down like an ordinary letter, with gum—there was no sealing wax upon it—when he gave me the envelope, he said, "This is the price Messrs. Hoffmann offered for the two parcels, but they want to buy about 100 carats of by water brilliants at between £5 10s. and £6 10s. a carat—I took the envelope to Messrs. Lindenbaum and Weil—the prisoner knew I had them from another person, to whom I had to submit the offer—I told the prisoner what Mr. Weil said—Mr. Weil said the price of £5 for the diamond melee was no good; and I told the prisoner that he had to go back and break die seal at once—that is the usual course—I told him that Mr. Weil had got a parcel of 125 carats of bywaters, but the price was £8 a carat instead of £5 10s. or £6—that was after I had seen Mr. Weil—he said, "Never mind, come and get the goods "—I went to Mr. Weil again, and I got the parcel of 125 carats of bywaters—I next saw the prisoner in my office—he had come from the restaurant—I fetched him—I saw him in the restaurant, and told him I had the goods for him, and I took him to my office—I gave him the bywaters—I parted with them because he said he wanted them for Hoffmann and Co., and I believed that his statement was true—it was about two o'clock when he went away with the bywaters he was to return at once—he said he would return as soon as possible—I knew Hoffmann and Co.'s place was in the City—I remained at my office till 6.30 p.m—the prisoner did not return—when I left Hatton Garden I went up to the prisoner's brother's house at 32, Adolphus Road, Finsbury Park—I did not know the prisoner's address—I got there about seven.—I did not find the prisoner there, and I went back to Hatton Garden—between 8.30 and 9 o'clock I went back to the prisoner's brother's house—the prisoner came downstairs—I was in the hall when he was coming down—I said, "Where is your brother Louis?"—the prisoner said, "He is not in"—I said I did not believe it, whereupon the prisoner called upstairs to the bedroom, "Tony, is Louis in?"—Tony is the prisoner's brother's wife—she answered, "Yes!" and I told him, "You say he is not in, and he is in"—and he said, "He is not in "—Mrs. Spitzel, who heard our conversation, answered a second time, "He is not in, my man is not in "—I had spoken aloud so that the brother's wife could hear—then she came downstairs and was very indignant that I did not believe her, and she told me that she had a telegram from her husband that he would not come home so early, as he had to see Mr. Abrahams, who owed him £900—I then took the prisoner into the front room—Mr. Katzin was in the passage—the brother's wife spoke loud enough for the prisoner to hear—she aid not show me any telegram—when I was in the front room I asked the prisoner where my goods were—he said."I have, lost them "—I asked him, "Where did you lose
them? "and he answered, "In the Tottenham Court Road," and then, "In Oxford Street"—I said, "Where have you been?"—he said he left the City at half-past four and took a cab from there to King Street, Covent Garden, to see a jeweller of the name of Partridge—he said he saw young Mr. Partridge, and that from there he went to Long Acre to see Messrs. Jones and Son, and from there he went to the Goldsmiths and Silversmiths' Company in Regent Street, but he did not go into their shop—he said it was a quarter to, five-when he was at Regent Street—I said, "How is it possible? You say you left the City at halfpast four, that you made all these journeys and saw all these different people, and yet you were in Regent Street at a quarter to five; that means a quarter of an hour!"—he said, "Well, it must have been earlier than half-past four when I left the City, and later than a quarter to five when I was in Regent Street"—he said he took an omnibus to Tottenham Court Road, and when he came to Torrenham Court Road he found he had lost his pocket-book—he said he took a cab to Moor Lane Police-station, and from there to Bow Street Police-station—I was crying bitterly for him to give me my goods back, and begging him to give them to me, as it was so heavy an amount, and by losing those goods I would lose my existence, and would be a ruined man for the rest of my life—I said, "I am sure you have not lost the goods, "and" You had better give me my goods, as it will be my ruin "—I waited in the brother's house till about half-past eleven, then I went with the prisoner to a restaurant in Islington—the brother did not return—the prisoner went up to the front bedroom and came back in a few minutes—I told him I thought his brother would not come back at all, and as I had not had anything to eat for the whole afternoon, I wanted to have something to eat—then he took me to this restaurant in Islington—he took me to the back room and he said, "You go on and have something to eat, and I shall be back in a second"—I said, "All right," but as soon as he went out I went after him—I was standing outside the restaurant and I saw him loitering at the opposite corner looking for somebody, and all at once I saw him jump in a cab—he was just driving away, or giving his directions to the cabman, when I jumped on the cab and caught hold of him, and said, "Where are you going?"—he said, "I shall be back in a minute"—I told him, "That won't do, you know; I won't leave you until I have my diamonds back "—then he said, "You can believe me, I shall be back in a minute"—I said, "If you like to get out from the cab, do so; or, if not, I shall go with you"—he said, after some hesitation, "All right, you can come with me"—he then drove to a street I do not remember the name of, and told me to wait in the cab and be would be back in a few minutes—he knocked at the door, ran upstairs, and came back in a few minutes—it was seven or eight minutes' drive—I have seen the house since—we then both drove to a restaurant, and the cab was discharged—he said, "You can go in, and I shall be back in a second"—I said, "All right," and I did the same as before; I saw him go over the road, and I watched him from outside the restaurant—I saw him speaking to a girl whom he brought to this restaurant—when I saw him coming across the road I went in the back room and sat down—he came in with the girl, ordered something for her—afterwards he said he was very tired, it being very late, and he wanted
to go home—I said, "I will follow you, I shall go with you"—he invited the girl, and we all three went back to the same house he had entered when I was in the cab—we went to the first floor and found another girl—the prisoner began to tell her he had lost such a heavy amount of diamonds—I said, "What is the good of talking to this girl? she cannot help you "—after about fifteen to twenty minutes' stay in this room the prisoner said he would go to bed—the girl stayed in the same room—I said, "Where am I to be?"—he said, "There is another room on the second-floor," and I went to it with the woman who came in the cab—I did not go to bed—I had nothing to do with the woman—the remainder of the night I was sitting near the window of the second-floor, which was only half a staircase off, and where I Could watch and hear every movement of the prisoner, and when I heard anything suspicious I opened the window—I went three times downstairs to see if the prisoner was still in that room, so that he should not go out without my being Able to follow and stop him—very early in the morning I turned the handle of his clock on about two hours to make him get up—about 7.30 I made his clock show 9.30—the clock was in the first floor bedroom on the mantelpiece—when he saw it was 9.30 he got up—we went to his brother's house, 32, Adolphus Road—the girls were left behind—the right time when we got to the brother's house was between 7.30 and 8 o'clock—the prisoner went up to the bedroom—I heard him say," Mr. Krolik is there," meaning me—the brother said, "I am getting up just now, I will be downstairs in a minute "—I was in the front room—the same room I had been in the night before—the prisoner and his brother came down—the brother said, "I am sorry to hear, my wife told me of the loss"—I said, "Look here, Mr. Spitzel, you know very well that your brother has not lost the diamonds, so I came to you to have influence upon him to give me back my goods; and why has your brother never lost his pocket-book when he had only 10 carats of diamonds or one parcel of your own in his pocket? Why did he only lose the pocket-book to-day, when he had such a heavy amount as he never had before in his pocket?"—Louis said, "Go with my brother wherever he wants you to go," meaning the prisoner, "and if you do not find the diamonds, then come back to my office to Hatton Garden, I shall be there, and I won't let anybody in to-day, and if you knock three times at the door that will be a sign that it is you, and I will open the door"—I did not leave off begging the prisoner to give me my goods back, and I said I did not dare to face my people who had entrusted me with such a heavy amount—at last he said "I will give you £500"—I went with his brother to the platform at the Finsbury Park Railway Station—I said to him, in the prisoner's presence, "You see your brother has not lost the diamonds; he offered me just now £500 "—the prisoner said he said that if he would be rich he would give £500—the prisoner, his brother, and I went from Finsbury Park Railway Station, the prisoner and myself to Moorgate Railway Station, and the brother to Farringdon Street—the prisoner and I went to Moor Lane Police-station—we saw the sergeant in charge—the prisoner said to the sergeant, "Has the pocket-book been found?"—the sergeant said, "No," and asked the prisoner a few more questions—I left with the prisoner and we went to Mr. Abrahams' office in Basinghall Street—he took me there, and on the ground floor—when we came to the back office,
Mr. Abrahams saw the prisoner and myself come in—I knew Mr. Abrahams by sight—he said to his clerk, "Leave us alone and lock the door"—we' entered the front office—Mr. Abrahams was there—the door was closed, the clerk withdrew—the prisoner said to Mr. Abrahams, "I have lost my pocket-book"—Mr. Abrahams said, "I am very sorry," and while we were talking Mr. Abrahams took an envelope from a drawer and said, "I sealed up two parcels of melee on Monday morning and broke the seal in the afternoon "—he said, "This is the seal I sealed the envelope with "; he took out a thin brass seal from his drawer in his table; I understood that he sealed it with sealing-wax—it was a seal that would make an impression with sealing-wax—then Mr. Weil came to the office—he came in the same room—as soon as he came in he struck me—I was the person to whom he entrusted the diamonds—he then put some questions to the prisoner, but I was too excited, through the presence of Mr. Weil and Mr. Gordon, who came in, and did not hear or see what was going on—Mr. Gordon, from Paris, gave the prisoner into custody at Islington—he is one of the firm from whom I had the four parcels—when I left Mr. Abrahams' office I went to Moor Lane Police-station, being the nearest station, to inquire what I could do—Mr. Weil remained to watch the prisoner—I next went to my solicitor to get a warrant—I next saw the prisoner in custody.
Cross-examined. Mr. Weil struck me because I had lost £2,000 worth of diamonds—I had no right to part with them, being entrusted with them—ho was angry because I entrusted them to somebody else; to this particular man—one broker entrusts another broker with a parcel if asked—it is not the custom—I did not give Mr. Weil any explanation—it did not occur to me to explain—he did not say I ought not to have given them up to Spitzel—Spitzel was a broker, as I was—I sometimes tell the broker the name of my customer—it depends from whom I get the diamonds—there was nothing to prevent my offering the diamonds to Hoffmann and Co., but the prisoner told me he had known all the Australian diamond merchants very well, and would get a better chance than anybody else—if the prisoner had sold them we should have divided the commission—I only knew Hoffmann and Co. by reputation—I did not know they had bought from Lindenbaum and Weil—I do not remember having got goods from any broker—one broker has a better chance to sell to a merchant than another, because the merchant may like him better, and if the diamonds are from the factory at Amsterdam or elsewhere he thinks he can buy more cheaply than from a London house—the prisoner has not been in business in London three years I am sure—I have known him twelve months—he never sold anything for me—I had entrusted him with two parcels on the previous Saturday, also a diamond snuff-box, to sell—I understand a transaction is when business is done; he never did any business for me—I have not entrusted him with anything else—I keep no books showing these transactions—there is no record of the weight or value of the diamonds parted with—I did not tell Lindenbaums to whom I was going to show the diamonds—they did not ask me—they entrusted me with them upon my statement that I could sell them—that is the custom of the trade—the prisoner said his customer had not time to go through all the parcels in the morning—I told him to show them again
in the afternoon—I did not say the envelope was sealed; I said it was fastened down like an ordinary letter—the initials "H. & Co. "and the "£5" were written on it in ink—there was no wax—I saw the same envelope in Mr. Abrahams' office—I did not say I saw no sealing wax on it—I had seen Mr. Abrahams before, but did not know his name—I have seen him here—diamonds are always in a parcel—even if only a single stone—I told the prisoner to go back and try to get another 5s. a carat—the prisoner's words were not, "This is the price the firm offer me," but "This is the price Hoffmann and Co. offer"—the name of the firm had been mentioned before—I do not remember the words I used at the Police-court—I said there the name Hoffmann was mentioned—I do not know whether the prisoner was at home when the wife said he was not, and I did not go upstairs—I said I thought his brother would not come back and it was no use waiting, but I always thought he was at home—I have seen him here. and and his wife—before I left the brother's house I thought the prisoner had stolen the diamonds—I paid 8d. or 10d. for my dinner; the prisoner paid for himself—I do not know who paid the little amounts, I was too much confused—I think I paid the cab from Finsbury Park to Islington—I paid for my own room—I did not sleep with the girl—that is the woman. (The witnesses were here ordered out of Court).—she was sleeping in the bed while I sat at the window—I gave her 10s. in the morning—I promised her nothing—I thought if the prisoner went back to that house the person inside might be in connection with the loss of the diamonds, and in any case I ought to go in—he said I could stop with him—I thought in the same room—I had no idea he was going to find another woman—I am married; my wife believes my story—in answer to prisoner's solicitor, I said at the Police-court, "I passed the night with two women in a common brothel"—I did not know at the time what a brothel meant, because the prisoner never told me he was going to such a house; he told me he was going home—I did not think the woman was his wife—I did not say at the Police-court I sat up all night watching the prisoner, and that I went to that house for that purpose; nor that Mr. Abrahams locked the door when I went to him in the morning—nor that Mr. Abrahams said, "Leave us alone"—the prisoner did not tell me he had shown the diamonds to Mr. Abrahams—I went to Mr. Abrahams' office because the prisoner's brother said, "Go with him wherever he wants you to go," I was not to ask any questions, and if the diamonds were not found then we were to come to his office at Hatton Garden—the prisoner took me there—I said, "What is the good of going to Mr. Abrahams' office?"—he said it was a short distance from the police-station—he told me he had been to Mr. Abrahams' office as well with these diamonds—I did not know he was going there with them—the prisoner did not say he was going to Mr. Abrahams' office, because he had been there—as soon as we got in the door was locked, and Mr. Weil came in, and I did not have time to ask any question—I heard Mr. Weil was in Hatton Garden at the prisoner's brother's, and it was known the prisoner had lost such a lot of diamonds, the most part belonging to me—Mr. Weil heard it from the prisoner's brother—his visit was not in consequence of anything I had said; I had not seen Mr. Weil all the Monday—the prisoner was given into custody for obtaining the goods by false pretences—I do not know that it was for stealing the diamonds—I went
to the solicitors because the sergeant at the police station told me to try for a warrant—I have only told you the facts—I have never been convicted for making a false declaration—I was fined £50—I pleaded guilty; I was not guilty—I agreed to pay the fine—I gave Mr. Vryburg a letter to use my name in connection with some silver—my solicitor pleaded guilty—I paid the £50; I did not plead guilty to making a false declaration—I first went to see Hoffmann on the Wednesday morning, the day after the prisoner was given into custody—Hoffmann's offices are in Fore Street, City—I did not ask Mr. Abrahams anything—Mr. "Weil did not say to me, in the presence of Mr. Abrahams, "Did you not tell me that Mr. Schmidt offered to seal up a parcel of diamonds?"—I had not said anything about Mr. Schmidt—I was not beginning to say that Mr. Abrahams had offered to seal, or had given a seal, when somebody stopped me—Mr. Weil did not put his hand over my mouth and tell me to "shut up" as I was in the act of speaking—as soon as he came in he struck me—it was rather a hard blow—when he struck me I wanted to excuse myself—I was going to say something—I talked to Tony Spitzel about the loss of the pocket-book—I did not say that Julius, as I called him, had got a seal from Mr. Abrahams, of Basinghall Street—I did not mention Mr. Abrahams' name to her.
Re-examined. A man named Vryburg made a declaration as to some silver which I had not given him possession of, and I was held liable for the duty—as it was still my property I agreed to plead guilty and pay £50—the total value of the goods the prisoner is alleged to have lost is over £3,500, the value of the goods obtained from Mr. Weil £2,000—that was in my pocket-book—I spoke to the prisoner in German—he has no office—the artistic value of the snuff-box was £150—Weil and Co. made an entry of the goods—I accept their statement as correct, and the vendee could test its correctness—the goods merely pass through my hands from vendor to vendee—the other goods were Mr. Gordon's, from Paris.
By the JURY. I did not search the prisoner's pockets, because his pocket-book was too large to conceal—I thought he could not have lost his pocket-book—he would not have them in his possession, having been to the Police-court.
LOUIS NATHAN . I am one of the firm of Hoffmann and Co., Australian merchants, of Fore Street, City; we ship diamonds to Australia—I have the control of that business—the prisoner did not come to us with diamonds in July—we had no directions from my firm to obtain diamonds on approval—I have seen him at our place of business—I do not recollect being in want of diamonds on the 20th July—we had no communication with the prisoner about his obtaining diamonds—I did not sea the prisoner with a parcel of diamonds—I have never sealed a parcel with "H. & Co. "on—I might put "£5" on a parcel—I did not tell the prisoner to take diamonds back and get by waters for me—I gave him no authority—I know nothing of him.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner with regard to an Australian purchase—I put either my own initials, "L. H. N.," or "H. N. & Co. "—that is Henry Nathan & Co.—I was first asked by a clerk if I had seen the prisoner in connection with diamonds, I think the morning the case was reported in the newspapers—I said at the Police-court, "The matter of these diamonds was first brought to my notice from proceedings in the
paper; "but I think I was asked a different question; they rather confused me.
Re-examined. This is correct, "Before then I had heard something from one of my clerks."
WALTER BURR (G 315). I took the prisoner into custody near the Angel, Islington, at the corner of the Pentonville Road, the City Road side—Mr. Gordon said, "We charge this man with stealing between £3,000 and £4,000 worth of diamonds"—the prisoner asked for a cab to ride to the station.
Cross-examined. There was no charge of obtaining diamonds by false pretences.
HENRY JONES . I am a gold and silver refiner, of 19, Long Acre, and one of the firm of Jones and Sons—there is no other firm of that name in Long Acre—on 20th July I was at my place of business between 2 and 5 p.m.—we have a room specially used for inspecting diamonds—the prisoner was not there that afternoon with diamonds.
Cross-examined. We do not look at diamonds after three o'clock—there are other principals of the firm.
Re-examined. If diamonds are brought I see them.
JAMES PARTRIDGE . I am assistant to my father, Edward Partridge, of 20, King Street, Covent Garden—he sometimes deals in diamonds—there is no other son in the business—there is no other person of that name in King Street—on 20th July the prisoner came and asked if Mr. Partridge was in—I said he was not, and the prisoner went out—I believe that was about 12.30—I cannot be certain of the hour—it was before a meal-time, but which meal I cannot say—he did not offer me any diamonds—he did not come between four and five to my knowledge—he did not call more than once—he did not mention the loss of a pocket-book, nor inquire about a pocket-book with diamonds in it.
Cross-examined. It was before dinner or tea.
SAMUEL KROLIK . I am a diamond merchant, of 106, Hatton Garden—I have known the prisoner two years—on 20th July I was in Holborn between 5 and 5.30. having left my office about 5.10—near the Royal Music Hall I saw the prisoner—I said to him, "Spitzel, Goodenburg is waiting for 'you in the garden," meaning Hatton Garden—I did not notice anything unusual in his manner—I spoke while passing—he said nothing about losing diamonds—he was walking.
Cross-examined. He was going towards Hatton Garden—we did not stop—he has been a diamond merchant two years—his reputation is respectable—a merchant does not always ask the name of his brokers customer—I have got goods from another broker to show a customer—if I told him the name of the customer he might show the goods.
Re-examined. One broker has more influence than another.
ADELAIDE MILES . I live with my husband at 13, Alfred Road, City Road—the prisoner was our lodger—he occupied the front parlour at seven shillings a week—on 20th July £5 was owing; I was not pressing him for the money—on the Monday he name home I think, between two and three p.m., or a little later; I know it was after dinner—we dine about one—he said, "Mrs. Miles, if I pay you in the morning or evening will that do?"—and I said, "That will do very nicely, sir"—he came to us in January, but he had lived with us about twelve months before.
Cross-examined. He wanted his bill, and I had not the change on two former occasions—I have let the rent run on, and he has paid—he was very respectable.
Re-examined. He only called at the door and asked about the £5, and went away.
MARIA MILLS . I live with my husband at 104, Cloudesley Road, Barnsbury—on 20th July the prisoner came to my house in a cab about 2 to 2.30 p.m. with a diamond ring—my husband had bought a diamond, and he had taken it to have a band put on, and he was to bring it at 1—the stone was set in gold—I paid him £1 on account—he left the ring—he said he could not stop to see Mills, as he was in a great hurry to go to the City to sell diamonds—he shoved the pocket-book in his pocket, and ran across to a cab—I saw the pocket-book in his hand—he said he could not wait, but if possible he would call about six—my husband was home about six.
Cross-examined. He came up in a cab, and went away in the same cab.
JOHN KATZIN (examined partly through an interpreter). I am a diamond dealer, of 14, Robert Street, Gray's Inn Road—I have known the prisoner a short time—on Monday, 20th July, between ten and eleven a.m., I entrusted the prisoner with twenty-two carats of bywaters, of the value of between £80 and £90—he said he would take them to an Australian big firm to show, and that he could sell them—he mentioned the name of the firm, but I have forgotten it—he brought back the parcel between twelve and one—ha said he could not see his customer—after two he came again to the same restaurant where I had seen him—he asked for a parcel of small goods, which he knew I had from a conversation a few days before—I said, "I cannot give you that parcel because it is not saleable"—it was too dear—he said, "How many carats is that parcel?"—I. told him fifteen carats—he said, "Then let me have the other parcel, "that is "the parcel in my possession all day," which he had returned—I replied, "How can you have the parcel now when you told me you could not find the man, and do not know whether you can sell them?"—he said, "I will sell it sure now," and "I know this man will buy, and it was just that general stones he wanted"—there were big stones in it—I thereupon handed him the good he had returned—I said, "I will go with you to sell the parcel; it will be better to go"—he said, "I cannot take you to-day"—I said, "Why did you take me before?" because two weeks since he took me to all his customers, the firms he knew—he said he could not take me, the man was a big man—I let him have the diamonds—I have not got them back he promised to be back at lour o'clock sure, with the diamonds or the money; till four it must be—I saw him about six in Hatton Garden, going away in a cab with Goodenburg—I asked him, "Where are my goods?"—he replied, "I we lost the pocket-book"—I thought he laughed at losing the pocket-nook—I thought he joked, but Goodenburg talked to him seriously—I jumped on the cab, and Goodenburg was angry with me, and I went with them in the cab—I asked the prisoner where he was going—he said, "I am going to the Police-station to tell them I have lost them "—that was about 6.15—then I jumped from the cab and left him—I saw him afterwards with Krolik—I went to his brother's house with Krolik—I saw the
prisoner coming downstairs when I opened the door—I asked him, "Where are my goods?"—I did not ask him so much as Krolik—he said, "I have lost it"—I said, "Where hare you been with my goods?"—he said he had been to King Street to show them, and mentioned a name I do not remember—afterwards I said, "Where have you been? Have you broken the seal?"—he said he was at "Mr. Abrahams' at four o'clock, and had broken the seal there—I asked if he had been to some firm in King Street, and he told me no. he had not been there—he mentioned the name, but I do not remember it—I think it was Partridge—I asked, "Has Mr. Partridge seen the goods?" "Yes," he said—I told him I would go there and ask him—then he told me, "No, I did not find him at home"—then I asked him for the money for another stone he had had the day before he took a cheque from his pocket and handed me £8 10s.—he said, "You can see I did not want to rob you, if I did I could have lost this cheque as well"—I asked him what time he got the cheque; he said between 7 and 8 p.m.—it was from Mr. Mears—I said, "How could you have the cheque when you had lost the pocket-book before?"—he did not answer—I heard him talking with Krolik afterwards in the same room—I left them about eleven o'clock—I went to Scotland Yard—I never got my diamonds back—Krolik and I asked him, "Where have you been after you were with Mr. Abrahams about four o'clock?"—he said he had been in King Street, Regent Street, Long Acre, and a fourth place I do not remember—he said he went always in a cab—we asked him when he lost his pocket-book, and he said at five o'clock exactly—he did not notice it before five—he said after he had lost the pocket-book he went to the places where he had been to look after the pocket-book.
Cross-examined. Krolik and I were together at the brother's house all the time we were talking to the prisoner—I heard them talking—the prisoner told me he had been to Mr. Abrahams; I did not hear him say with the diamonds, but I heard him speak about the seal—the prisoner told me at four o'clock he was at Mr. Abrahams' to break the seal from the same packet of diamonds—I do not remember exactly if he said four or half-past—I have said the prisoner told me, "I left Hatton Garden at half-past three, and went to Mr. Abrahams' office at half-past four; I went there to have the seal broken"—Spitzel did not go round with me the same day, he could not; I had seen him tie first time at ten o'clock—he did not say that day—that he wanted to go round with me to sell some goods—(Read from the deposition: "On Monday, 20th July, I saw the prisoner in Hatton Garden; the prisoner said he wished to go with me to sell some goods, and I went with him to various places")—it cannot be so; perhaps I said so, but I was asked what day of July; and I did not know the date exactly—I did not go with him that day to sell goods—I made a mistake as to the day.
JAMES BURMBY (Inspector E). On Monday, 20th July, I was in charge of Bow Street Police-station from two to six p.m.—the prisoner did not come and report the loss of £3,500 worth of diamonds—I did not see him.
Cross-examined. I was the officer in charge—any complaint made would
be referred to the person on duty—if the person stating the loss said the matter had already been reported at another station, he would be referred to the inspector on duty—a policeman would not take upon himself the responsibility of saying that the matter having been reported at one station that was enough—a report at one station is sent to other stations.
Re-examined. Reports are circulated by wire—they are subsequently printed for the information of the police—we keep an Occurrence Book—any inquiry would be entered for the purpose of investigation.
JOHN KATZIN (Recalled).; This is the cheque the prisoner handed me in payment of the goods—I paid it into my bankers, and it was returned marked, "Orders not to pay"—I have never received the money. (This cheque was on the London and County Banking Company for £8 10s., payable to Mr. Julius Spitzel, and teas signed A. Mills, and endorsed by Julius Spitzel and J. Katzin).
ADOLF WEIL . I am a member of the firm of Lindenbaum and Weil, diamond merchants, of Hatton Garden—Mr. Krolik got some of these diamonds from us—we first heard of the loss on the morning of the 21st, and I eventually went to Mr. Abrahams' office in Basinghall Street—I found Krolik, the prisoner, and Abrahams there—I said to Krolik in the prisoner's presence, "How could you be so foolish as to give such a large amount of goods to Spitzel?"—in my passion I struck Krolik; he made no reply before I did so; he hardly had time—I then asked the prisoner how it was he had lost them—he told me that at four o'clock in the afternoon he was at Mr. Abrahams' office, showing him some of these diamonds, and that from there he took a cab and went to King Street, Covent Garden, with the intention of showing these diamonds to Mr. Partridge; when he got there Mr. Partridge was not there, but his son was, and as his son did not buy any he left there; from there he went to Jones and Sons, of Long Acre—I asked him, "When you left Partridge, did you know you had these diamonds in your pocket? "—he said, "Oh yes, certainly, because I wanted to show them to Jones afterwards "; from there he went to Jones, and offered these goods to Mr. Harry Jones, and Mr. Harry Jones told him he was no buyer; from there he went to the Silversmiths' Company in Regent Street, but as it got too dark he did not go in to offer the goods—this was in July—from there he said he went to Oxford Street, and when he got to Tottenham Court Road he put his hand into the side of his pocket and he found that the pocket-book was missing—just as he was telling me this Mr. Lindenbaum came in—Mr. Abrahams was in and out of the office the whole time while the prisoner was telling me this—Abrahams said, "I sealed these goods yesterday," and he took out a brass seal to show me—I asked him if he had the envelope he sealed them in, and he went to the basket and said, "I suppose it is gone "—he rummaged about, but he did not seem to display any anxiety to find it, so he did not—Lindenbaum came in very excitedly, and said, "What is this about? "—I told him what the prisoner had told Mr. and he said, "What did you do after that, when you found the goods were missing?"—the prisoner said, "I went to Moor Lane Police-station to give notice "—Lindenbaum said, "It seems a very curious story, that if you lost them in the West-end you should go to the City to report the loss; it was rather strange you should not go first to the people you had gone to see, to see if you had left your pocket-book
there"—the prisoner said, "Oh, yes; I did go back, and after that I went to Moor Lane "—Mr. Lindenbaum said, "I will go to Moor Lane, and this seems such an unlikely story I will see if I cannot get a warrant for your arrest," and left—I was left alone with the prisoner, and I was walking up and down the room for a little while; he was sitting; all at once he got up and wished to leave—I said, "You had much better wait here till Mr. Lindenbaum returns, and we will have this cleared up "—he said, "Don't you attempt to stop me; I have a right a go where I please"—I said, "Very well, I will follow you"—I followed him into the passage; he did not stop, and I had not got my hat, so I took him by the collar—he kicked up a bit of a row, and Mr. Abrahams came out and said, "This is my office; I don't want to have a row here"—I said, "If you will allow me to get my hat I will go "—he got my hat, and just as we got out Mr. Lindenbaum and Krolik returned from Moor Lane Police-station—they told me the inspector there had told them they must go to the district where the goods were given, to be able to get a warrant.
Cross-examined. These were our goods—we did not quite hand these goods to Krolik on his stating that he thought he could find a customer for them; we generally give goods to brokers in the morning to find any customers they can—it was so in this case; but this was not quite in the ordinary course, because he was my brother-in-law—it is rather extraordinary to give goods out of hand to show to anybody, but it is the ordinary course of business to hand goods to Krolik for him to sell if he can, because he is my brother-in-law—I have heard Hoffmann and Company's name, I did not know them personally—I have never done business with them directly—I went to Abrahams office on the Tuesday morning, the first thing, because I met Louis Spitzel, and he told me they had gone there—I knew Louis Spitzel before that—when Abrahams said, "I sealed these two parcels yesterday, "I don't remember that I said anything particular—Krolik said nothing—I believe Abrahams went and looked for the envelope in the waste-paper basket—stone merchants, when they have given a seal and a seal is broken, keep the envelopes, and some throw them away—Abrahams did not say how much he had offered for the diamonds—I do not think anyone did—Krolik did not in my presence, but he was there previously, and might have said it before—I cannot say if Krolik was able to reply to me when I struck him, because I was so excited at the time that I did not notice—he did not have time to reply, if he intended to do so—the question how he came to entrust the goods to Spitzel and the blow were almost at the same time; the question accompanied the blow really, although he was my brother-in-law—I don't think he was in the act of speaking, and had got one or some words out of his mouth before I struck him—I know he got no word nor part of any word out; I cannot say what his intention was—nothing was said in Abrahams' presence by me about a Mr. Smith having offered a seal for these diamonds; no other name was mentioned—Abrahams told me he had sealed the goods, and it passed out of my mind altogether—I did not communicate with Hoffmann and Co. at all.
Re-examined. I asked £5 15s. for one parcel of these diamonds, and £5 10s. for the other—an offer of £5 from a person who really wished to buy was an offer within reason, but it was out of the way of business
—it was hardly a price which a person would expect a diamond dealer to take.
THOMAS HOOK (City Sergeant 43). On 20th July I was in charge of Moor Lane Police-station—the prisoner came in at thirty-five minutes past five in the afternoon—he stood looking round the charge-room, and I said, "What can I do for you?"—he said, "I have lost a pocket-book"—I said, "Where?"—he said, "I don't know where, but I think in King Street"—I said, "King Street, Cheapside?"—he said, "No, King Street, Oxford Street"—I said, "Then why did not you go to the Police-station in that district, and report the loss there?"—he said, "I thought I might find it on my way back to Basinghall Street"—I said, "That was hardly probable this time of the day"—he said, "I know I had it in King Street, because I felt it in my pocket," touching his right side—I said, "What did it contain?"—he said, "Diamonds"—I said, "Then I will take the information"—I then took down the information he gave on a rough scrap of paper first—he gave his name and address as Julius Spitzel, 13, Alfred Street, Islington—he said it was a black leather pocket-book with the name of "Julius Spitzel, Anvers" written inside, and it contained a number of parcels of diamonds—he took a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket, and gave me the weights of the respective parcels, and returned the paper to his waistcoat pocket—I said, "What is the value of these diamonds?"—he said, "I don't know; I shall have to go home and reckon them up"—I said, "About the value will be sufficient for me; cannot you give me some idea?"—he said, "About £3,000"—I said, "Your property?" he said, "Yes"—I said, "Who did you call on in Basinghall Street?"—he said "I don't know the name"—I said, "Do you know the number of the street?"—he said, "I cannot say"—I said, "Do you, wish me to understand that these are your own personal goods?" he nodded assent, and then took from the outside right-hand nip pocket of his coat a small gold casket, and unwrapped it (it was wrapped in paper and wool); the lid was set with diamonds—he showed it to me and said, "I was obliged to keep my hand on this pocket (meaning the pocket in which the casket was), so I could not pay particular attention to the pocket-book—I said, "How did you go from Basinghall Street to King Street, by cab or omnibus? "—he said, "By cab to Oxford Street"—I said, "Do you think you may have left it in the cab, if so you should have gone on to Bow Street at once, and reported it there"—he said, "I know I had it in the cab because I took it pat and counted them"—I said, "Then you have certainly lost a lot of time in coming here; I cannot understand if you saw them in the cab, and felt them in your pocket in King Street, why you came here "—he said, "I was so confused I don't know where I lost them; I will go to Bow Street at once"—I said, "You might call here on your way back, and let me know if you have heard anything of them; say that you have reported the loss at this station "—he said, "I will," and left the station—I went off duty at eleven o'clock that night; he had not come back by eleven—I next saw him between nine and ten next morning, when he called at the station accompanied by Krolik—he stood for some few seconds, neither of them spoke, so I said to the prisoner, "Good morning; I suppose you have come to inquire about that loss of yours last night?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I have not heard anything of them"—
Krolik then half turned away from the desk; the prisoner leaned forward and said, "It was Mr. Abrahams I called on in Basinghall Street last night"—I was sitting at a double desk, about four feet from the prisoner, and he leaned over the part that was away from me when he said that—Krolik was close to the prisoner; they were standing side by side, both leaning over the desk when I first made the inquiry—Krolik half turned away when I said I had not heard anything of the diamonds.
Cross-examined. I have no note of this conversation—I said if he thought he had left them in the cab he should have gone to Bow Street, because that would be the nearest police-station to Oxford Street—I am not well acquainted with the police-stations near there—I said Bow Street, because he said he had felt them in his pocket in King Street; when he first came in he said he thought he had lost them in King Street, and knowing Bow Street was the police-station in the Covent Garden district, I thought he meant King Street, Covent Garden—I asked him what King Street, and he said Oxford Street, but I understood Covent Garden, because I knew King Street was near Covent Garden—I said if he had left them in the cab he ought to have gone to Bow Street, because I thought he would get out of the cab at the nearest point to King Street, Covent Garden—I told him if he went to Bow Street to say that he had given information of the loss at my station—immediately he had left, at ten minutes to five, I sent it on by wire to our chief office, and they circulated it—they would receive it at 26, Old Jewry, directly after he left my station—it would be wired on. in the ordinary course from there to Leman Street, and then to Scotland Yard, and it would be circulated from Scotland Yard.
By the JURY. The prisoner was not at all excited when he came in to report his loss; he was quite calm; at times he seemed to appear to work himself up into a slight state of excitement.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ISAAC ABRAHAMS . I carry on business at 64, Basinghall Street, as a merchant and exporter, dealing in every class of merchandise—on 20th July the prisoner called—I had known him three or four months as a diamond broker—on the previous Saturday, when he was showing me a diamond snuff-box, I had told him I wanted to buy a parcel of melee and a small parcel of bywaters—on the Monday, between eleven and twelve, he brought me two parcels one was over 100 and the other a little under 100, about 200 carats altogether—he asked £5 15s. for them—I told him the price would not suit—he told me to make him an offer, and I gave him a seal for £5—I told him I only bought for prompt cash, as I always have done since I have been in London—I took., an envelope out of my drawer, and gummed and wetted it, and sealed it up, and as I was taking out of my drawer the seal with the firm's name, J. H. and Co., on it a friend of mine in the office said to me, "Is that the way they do the business in London?"—I said, "What do you mean?"—he said, "I will show you how we do the business in the Cape; thousands and millions pounds' worth of diamonds go through our firm," and he took the pen and wrote "I. A., £5," and crossed it—he is an intimate friend of mine, who is always in my office; he is Mr. Benjamin Weil—the prisoner went away with that envelope and with the diamonds in it—I stuck it down myself, and I was going to take the seal out of my drawer to seal it; but it was through my friend I did not
put the seal "J.H. and Co." on it—it had been my habit to seal with sealing-wax before that—I gave a seal on the Saturday with sealing-wax, and the stamp with the firm's initials, "J. H and Co. "when he brought me the diamond box—on the Monday before he left he showed me some by waters, and asked £8 per carat—I said it would not suit; I said £5 10s. or £6—he asked me to give him a seal for them; I said I would not give him any more seals; I had made two offers, and I would not be bothered to give any more seals—the prisoner returned on the Monday after lunch, between three and four, as far as my memory serves me, bringing the sealed envelop back in the same state that I gave it to him in—he said "They will not accept it; if you will give five shillings more I believe I could get them for you "—I said that was my price, as I was buying for prompt cash—I then broke the seal, tore the top of the envelope right off—he put the diamonds into his pocket-book, and put it into the inner breast-pocket of his coat; he had no overcoat on—that was done before four people besides myself—I don't know what became of that particular envelope; in the ordinary course it would be among the waste paper; I tried to find it on the morning afterwards; I could not—I set my man looking among the waste paper—I think on that particular day the dustman called for the paper—I saw nothing more of the prisoner on that Monday after he left my office about four or a little after—there is not the slightest truth in the suggestion that the prisoner left the diamonds with me; they were taken out of my office, and I can name three people in the City that saw them taken away; one is in Australia now—on the next morning, Tuesday, 21st, the prisoner and Krolik came to my office; I had not been there ten minutes, and was looking over my correspondence, and my office door was ajar, when they knocked and came in—I said, "What is it?"—the prisoner said, "I have brought Mr. Krolik down here to prove that I submitted to you a parcel of melee diamonds yesterday, and that you gave me a seal of £5 for the same"—Krolik asked me particularly what time he offered me the first parcel of diamonds; I told him between eleven and twelve; he asked me what time he showed me the other parcel of diamonds; I told him between three and four—he asked me what time he left my office; I told him I verily believed after four o'clock—Krolik asked me if I gave him a sealed envelope, and whether it was with sealing-wax—I said, "No; the envelope I gave him was an ordinary common envelope, and written across was 'I. A.,' and the price, and crosses all over the envelope"—I took an envelope, a duplicate of the one I gave the seal in out of the drawer, and showed him the class of envelope it was—I took the seal out of the drawer, and told him I sealed the diamond snuff-box on Saturday with that seal—nothing had been said or done about locking the door at that time; the door was open—there is no truth in the statement that directly they came into the office I said to my clerk, "Leave us alone," and locked the door; the door was never locked at any time—as this conversation went on Mr. Weil rushed in in a very excited state, without asking to come in; he had never been in my office before—he said, "Excuse me, Mr. Abrahams, for taking the liberty of doing what I have done"—I said, "All right; what is the matter?"—he told me the goods that he had lost belonged to their firm, and he asked me the same question as Krolik had done as to what time the prisoner had showed this parcel of goods to me, and what
time he left my office, and I told him—for a few seconds he did not speak, and then he said to Krolik, "Did not you tell me yesterday that Spitzel (the prisoner) told you he had an offer from Mr. Smith?"—Krolik said, "No, Mr. Abrahams"—and he had hardly got the words out of his mouth when Weil put his hand over his mouth, and then he asked him the question again, and then would not let Krolik speak, and knocked his hat off, and nearly knocked him through my glass case—I said, "If Mr. Weil does not want you to speak, don't speak"—Mr. Weil called him a b----fool—just after that in rushed Mr. Lindenbaum and some other people, so that there were five people in my office—Weil passed a remark, saying he knew they were both swindlers, mentioning Louis Spitzel's name, and saying he would lag the pair of them—throughout the interview there was not a syllable said by either of them about Hoffman and Co., and the prisoner representing that he had got a seal from Hoffman and Co.—I told Mr. Weil not to be too rash (he was very excited), and not to take a warrant out for Mr. Louis Spitzel, or he might be sorry afterwards.
Cross-examined. I had a partner up to four or five months ago—I am a buyer now for the firm of J. Hermann and Co., of 16, Barrack Street, Sydney, and 64, Basinghall Street, which is my place of business—there is no one there except me of the firm of J. Hermann and Co.—I did not buy any of these diamonds—I proposed to buy them for J. Hermann; that was byword of mouth; Hermann himself was in London at the. time; he was one of the men who saw the seal—he is now in Sydney—I have no document to show I had an order for diamonds for anyone; I never got orders for anything I buy; I buy whatever I think proper, and pay for it—I keep books—the Alliance Bank is my private bank now—the Bank of Australia was our bank—when Spitzel came to me I banked at the Alliance; I have not got my book for that or any other bank here; I can get it in ten minutes; I don't carry my bank-book with me—I Knew for what I was coming here; I have nothing to exonerate myself about—I think I first became acquainted with Spitzel four or five months ago—I have known his brother Louis ten or twelve years—when Mr. Weil spoke of two swindlers he alluded to Louis and the prisoner; he mentioned Louis's name; I don't know why—I was not in Melbourne with Louis, nor at the Cape—I came over in the same ship with him from Sydney, where I knew him—I often had business with him there—I did not hear he was connected with a diamond robbery in Antwerp. (MR. AVORY objected to the witness being asked questions as to the credit of Louis Spitzel The RECORDER said that as the can for the prosecution showed a connection between the two brothers, even in relation to this matter, he must over-rule the objection)—Louis Spitzel is outside—I have been standing alongside him to-day; I have not talked with him about the case—I was talking to him yesterday—I have not been doing business with him for the last three or four months, because I have no business to do with him; I buy of him, I do not sell to him—I have not bought diamonds worth £2,000 since I have been in England—I hive bought £500 or £600 worth in England—I have documents showing I bought £500 worth of diamonds—I would have brought my cheque-book if you had asked me, you knew I was coming—I think it was between one and two on the Saturday that I saw the prisoner—I told him I could do with,
a parcel of melées, from 100 to 150 carats—I did not give him the price, nor any written memorandum of what I wanted; it is not usual—I did not tell him for whom I wanted them—I wanted them for our firm of J. Hermann and Co.—that firm consists of Mr. J. Hermann and Mr. Abraham Hermann, of 16, Barrack Street, Sydney—the firm does not exist in England, and they are not here; I do all their business in London, and always have done since I have been here—I next saw the prisoner on the Monday, between eleven and twelve, when ho showed me two parcels of melees, one of 100 and odd carats and some under 100—I found out the exact weight when I made the seal—I made no memorandum—my friend Mr. "Weil wrote the £5 on it in figures, I did not—he is another Mr. Weil, not connected with the other one—he wrote "J. A," not "Co."—he did not write H. and Co., because I had to pay the money; I did enter it in my books to Hermann and Co.; I did not do so because I did not buy the goods—I put the seal "J. H. and Co." on the snuff-box, and did not write on that—I should have put the seal on the parcel only for Mr. Weil—"J. H. and Co." means J. Hermann and Co.—I sealed the snuffbox with their seal on Saturday, and I should have done the same on the Monday, only my friend interfered, saying, "Is that the way they do business in England?"—I was the buyer—that was put on the parcel, and the prisoner went away with it—when he went away he may have shown me two other parcels; I won't swear he did; he showed me some—they were mixed bywater—I gave him an order for bywaters in the morning between eleven and twelve—I did not give that order at the same time as the others, because the others were of most consequence—he came again between three and four, and showed me some bywaters, and I think another parcel of diamonds—I think the bywater was a parcel of 70 or 80 carat—I made no offer; the price they quoted did not suit me; he asked £8; I said £5 or £6—I broke the seal of the melees—I never sealed the bywaters—I had them in my hand—I handed them back to the prisoner, who wrapped them up and put them in his pocket-book, which he put in his side pocket—I did not see him fasten his pocket—when he put them in his pocket Louis Spitzel, Jacob Hermann, the member of the firm, Mr. Arberger, of Holborn, who I do not think is here, and Mr. Weil, who is not here, were present—Louis Spitzel is here—they could all see him put them into his pocket—Krolik, the prisoner, and Louis came back on the Tuesday—I will pledge my oath I did not have the door locked—nobody was present when Krolik and the prisoner came in on the Tuesday; others came in afterwards—when Weil put his hand on Krolik it was not a blow; it was to stop his mouth, because he said what he did not want him to say—he asked him if it was not Smith, and he said he had the offer from Abrahams; I don't know why he did not want him to say it—as he got the word Abrahams out of his mouth Weil put his hand over his mouth—he did not strike him in anger—I suppose he wanted him to say somebody else—I am telling the truth.
Re-examined. The firm of Hermann is never over here; Mr. Jacob Hermann was in London in July, but they attend the business in Sydney—when I buy things in my own name I buy and export them to Sydney at times—I knew about this case at the Police-court, and knew it was coming on—until this case was opened yesterday I never knew it had
been suggested by anybody that I had really taken these diamonds; I have got too good a position in London—nothing had been suggested at the Police-court, as far as I know; two detectives came to my office once, and I asked them how they dared come to my place—I had told Lindenbaum and Weil ail about it, and they were very wild that Lindenbaum and Weil did not tell them they knew anything about it—nobody gave me notice to bring my bank-book here; I can do so in ten minutes if it is required—I knew Louis Spitzel as a diamond broker—he often came out to the colonies from London—I had done business with him—on Monday, 20th July, he did not come with the prisoner or any of these other people—he came alone; he is often in my office—I have known him many years—Mr. Arberger was there on different business altogether; he is a watch merchant; he had nothing to do with these diamonds.
TONY SPITZEL . I am the wife of Louis Spitzel, of 32, Adolphus Road, Finsbury Park—on 30th July I remember Mr. Krolik coming to our house and asking for Julius Spitzel; he was not there—I told Mr. Krolik so; he came again later in the evening, about half-past six, and found Julius there—my husband was not at home then; Mr. Krolik said that my brother-in-law had lost diamonds for him—I called him into my drawing-room, and he told me he was sorry he did not take Mr. Lindenbaum's advice, and break the seal, that Mr. Julius Spitzel offered ft seal from Mr. Abrahams, but did not like to break the seal.
Cross-examined. It was between half-past six and seven that this conversation took place—my husband came home about half-past eleven or a quarter to twelve, after Mr. Krolik had left—Krolik remained there for some time with my brother-in-law—when he first came and asked if my husband was at home, I did not call out "Yes" from upstairs; I said, "No "—I was in my bedroom putting my baby to bed—I heard no conversation between them.
LOUIS SPITZEL . I live at 32, Adolphus Road, Finsbury Park—I am a diamond merchant—the prisoner is my brother—I have sometimes done business with Mr. Abrahams—I was there on Monday, 20th July, when he gave a seal—the envelope was not sealed, it was rather a peculiar envelope, not white, a brownish paper, it was fastened simply with the gum; it had a few pen-strokes across it, and "J. A." written—my brother went away—I was not at home at nine o'clock when my brother and Mr. Krolik met there—I got home about a quarter to twelve—my wife told me of this loss—on the following day I met Mr. Weil at the office, 21, Hatton Garden—I gave him Mr. Abrahams' address, and sent him there, and he said, "He is the one that gave your brother a seal for diamonds "—I then said, Mr. Abrahams lives at 24, Basinghall Street"—and he said, "Now we have got him".
Cross-examined. I did not write the figures across the paper—a gentleman named Weil did; he has an office in Basinghall Street—I am at Mr. Abrahams' every day—sometimes I do business through Mr. Abrahams—I have sold diamonds through him to a gentleman in the City; I would rather not tell his name—I knew Mr. Abrahams in Australia; I was always friendly with him—I had no business relations with him in Australia—to my knowledge the Post master-General did not stop a letter addressed to me containing £1,000 worth of diamonds—the diamonds did not come into my
possession—I have a brother named Adolphus—he did not run away with some diamonds that were stolen from Antwerp—there is a warrant out against Adolphus, because Lindenbaum and other people swore falsely against him, and they were only too pleased to withdraw the warrant—I should be surprised to hear that the officer is in Court with the warrant, because I have seen a letter from the Belgian Government saying that they were too pleased to withdraw the warrant—I don't know whether the warrant was issued; it was not for stealing diamonds, it was for bankruptcy—no robbery was suggested at all; it was only bankruptcy—I don't know whether there were two charges, stealing diamonds and fraudulent bankruptcy—I don't know whether ho was bankrupt—Mr. Lindenbaum came to me and asked me to try and arrange it for him—Adolphus is now in America, in Nassau Street, New York—he is a diamond merchant there—the Postmaster-General has got the diamonds, £2,000 worth; he does not decline to give them up, he awaits my letter—I left Sydney in April, 1890—I did not offer to give them up, because I loft my brother in charge; the diamonds remain there up to the present moment—I have not got them; Adolph did not ask for them—I don't know whether they were ever paid for; I think most of them were paid for; I have sent £2,000 through the Union Bank to Adolphus—I did not give a bill for some of the diamonds and dishonour it—I did give a bill in January, 1890; I was acting as Adolphus's agent, in endeavouring to carry out an arrangement with a Mr. Walk and others, creditors of my brothers—I gave a bill to one of those persons, and I dishonoured it; it was sealed, and the man tells me he will not open the envelope till the diamonds are returned, and he says if they don't come back in ten years he will not open it—I have not got the diamonds, and I did not write for them.
Re-examined. Mr. Walk has sent me a writ—I have got leave to defend the action—ho has to pay money into Court as security; he has not done it—it is since Adolph has got into trouble that this action has been brought against me—Adolph has not been in this country doing business since April, 1890—the prisoner has been here before that he was a pretty big broker, and he used to sell a lot of goods to Mr. Lindenbaum Weil.
LUCY BURTON . I live in Danbury Street—I was in Court yesterday when Krolik gave evidence—it is not true that on the 20th July he came to my house and sat up in a chair watching out of the window—he slept with me that night.
Crow examined. I am a prostitute—I have never consorted with the prisoner—I have never slept with him; he has never given me money—I have known him through a lady friend of mine—he had nothing to do with me.
Re-examined. The prisoner came to see my friend; the prisoner spent the night of 20th July with her, and Krolik with me.
JOHN KATKIN (Re-examined.) I first heard of the loss of the pocketbook on 30th July, about a quarter after six—I heard of it from Gottenburg and Spitzel together—I did not hear of it before from Krolik; he came afterwards into Hatton Garden, and we told him that Spitzel had lost his pocket-book, and ho was like a dead man when he heard it—that was the first time he know anything about it.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
NEW COURT.—Friday, September 18th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
(702) JOHN JOSEPH (17) , to unlawfully obtaining £5 5s. by false pretences from John Hollington and others— Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors, who promised to employ him again. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] To enter into recognizances in £20 to come up for judgment if called upon.
MR. PUECELL Prosecuted.
TOM MAXWELL . I was staying at 1, Bentinck Road, Hillingdon—on August 17th, at ten a.m., I saw my watch and chain safe in a little plate on the toilet table in my room—I missed them about seven p.m.—the prisoner occupied the next room to me as a lodger—this is my watch; it has my name in it.
ANN PETER . I am landlady of this house—the prisoner had lodged there three days—on 17th August she took the room for a week—she came down to breakfast that day, and between 11.30 and 12 o'clock I saw her coming out of Mr. Maxwell's room—I told her it was Mr. Maxwell's room, and she made some remark about the electric bell; I do not know what she said—she went out about 12.30, and said the was going to Ealing to fetch her box—she never came back; she only had a brown paper parcel when she came—the rooms were on the first floor—Mr. Maxwell complained of his loss in the evening.
HERBERT CLARK . I am assistant to Cox and Bourne, pawnbrokers, of Ealing—I produce a watch pawned on 17th August about four p.m. for seven shillings by a woman in the name of Jane Maxwell—I do not recognise the prisoner—I produce the ticket.
WALTER LAWLER . I am assistant to Mr. Sutton, a pawnbroker, of Victoria Street, "Westminster—I produce a silver watch chain pawned on 17th August for six shillings by a woman I cannot recognise, in the name of Mrs. Stewart, 18, Sloane Street—I do not know the time.
THOMAS THOMAS (Police Sergeant X 31). In consequence of information I made inquiries, and on 29th August, about a quarter to ten p.m., I met the prisoner at the Elephant and Castle, Old Kent Road, and said, "You will be charged with stealing a watch and chain from 1, Bentinck Place, on August 17th"—she made no reply—I took her to Ealing by train, and shortly before getting there she rushed to the door and tried to get out, but I restrained her—the train was not going very fast, but an express train was meeting us on the side where she got the door open—after she was committed for trial I received a packet at the lost property office, where property left in cabs and omnibuses is taken; it contained thirty-four pawntickets and several letters, two of which are addressed to the prisoner's name and one to the address she gave me when she was charged—among the pawntickets are the tickets relating to this watch and chain—I served notice on her of what I had ascertained.
Prisoner's Defence. The landlady took me into the room and showed me the room, and said, "This is a nice room." I was not in the house after a quarter to eleven.
GUILTY —She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Sunbury on September 10th, 1883.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. FARRANT Prosecuted.
HARRY COLLINGWOOD SELBY . I am a medical student, and live at 7, Portland Road, Notting Hill, Mrs. Gorringe's house—the prisoner was a servant there—I usually kept my cheque-book in my portmanteau, but at this time it was in a drawer, not locked—I got my pass-book from the bank, and discovered that this cheque had been drawn; I then looked at my cheque-book, and found five blank cheques had been taken out—this cheque was not drawn by me. (The cheque teas dated July 25th, 1891, on the London and County Banking Company, for £3 10s. in favour of Miss Gorringe. Signed H. Collingwood Selby. Endorsed Maud Gorringe", which was crossed out, and "Maud Gorringe "signed again, and again crossed out, and then "Maud Gorringe," and then "Miss Gorringe," Stamped "London and South-Western Bank.")—that form is out of my book cheques K4127, K4141, K4143, and K4150 are gone, and the counterfoils also.
JOHN CARRICK PURSER . I am a baker, of 128, High Street, Notting Hill—on, I think, 29th July the prisoner came to my shop to change this cheque (produced) —it was not endorsed, and I would not cash it—my young woman handed it back to the prisoner—she is not here—it was Drought again in the evening, and I took it to the counter and saw the prisoner there—I said, "This must be signed by Miss Gorringe "—she took it away and brought it back signed, "Mist Maud Gorringe"—I told her that that would not do, nobody could sign that—I could not change it that night; it was then near eight o'clock, the time for shutting up, and she must come in the morning; she did so, and brought it back with the "Miss" scratched out; I told her that would not do, and she brought it back, signed "Maud Gorringe" only, and I gave her the £3 10s.—I paid it into my bank, and it was cashed.
MARIA HARRIETT GORRINGE . I live at 7, Portland Road, Notting Hill—Mr. Selby is my lodger—the prisoner has been my servant three months and a week—she left in July, a week before Bank Holiday—none of the endorsements on this cheque are my writing; I do not know the writing.
JAMES BROWN (Detective X). I went in search of the prisoner and found her at 65, "Oxbridge Road, on August 12th—I asked her to write down the name of her former mistress, who lived in Portland Road—she wrote this "Miss Gorringe, Portland Road"—I then showed her the cheque, and said, "How do you account for it?"—she said, "I don't know anything about it; how should I? Besides, I should not know how to make it out "—I said, "I shall take you in custody for forging and uttering the
cheque, and also for stealing four other cheques "—on the way to the station she said, "I found the cheque, and made it out myself, and I cashed it at Mr. Thompson's, the baker, at Notting Hill Gate "—when the charge was read over to her she made no reply; Mr. Purser trades in the name of Thompson.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour
OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 19th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder,
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
WILLIAM THOMAS WADE . I am manager to James George Andrews, licensed victualler, 154, Fleet Street; the house is known as the Portugal—the prisoner was in the employment as a barman for five weeks—I had occasion to suspect him, and watched him—on Saturday, 22nd August, about six in the evening, some persons came to the bar, after the prisoner had come down from his tea—about a quarter to six I left the bar for the purpose of watching him—I went out, as he thought to go into the billiard-room, but I turned into the private bar; from there I had a distinct view of the till, but I did not see where the prisoner was standing at the time; he was serving—he served three drinks, which came to nine-pence—I could not see the amount of the coin that was handed to him; he went to the change-rack for change—I saw him drop one sixpence through the till—he ought to have dropped either a shilling or two sixpences—he put one coin through, took some coppers from the rack, and went towards the customer; I walked behind him, and heard him put the change on the counter—our till has four separate slots; there is a bell to each slot except the shilling slot; that was broken, and did not ring—each bell has a different sound—I saw the prisoner put one sixpence through, because the bell rang once—when he put the change on the counter I rushed from where I was and went behind the bar; the prisoner was standing behind the bar, with one hand flat on the counter, and his Tight hand with two fingers on the counter and the other two fingers doubled under—he turned round, and saw me stooping down behind him, watching—there was a water-jug on the counter; he picked it up, went with it to the tap, and dropped a coin from one hand to the other; he then returned to the counter, put the water-jug on the counter, and turned to go—I said, "What have you in your hand?"—I opened his hand and said, "It is the sixpence you should have put in the till"—I sent for a constable and sent the prisoner upstairs, and said I would have the constable waiting for him—he made no answer—I gave the constable the sixpence, and said I should charge the prisoner with stealing it.
Cross-examined. He made no answer at the station—I said to him, "If you will confess I won't charge you;" he said, "I won't confess "—I said before the Magistrate, "Knowing he should have put two sixpences in the till I stepped round the bar "—I knew he should have put two
sixpences or one shilling in the till by the drinks coining to ninepence—there was a bit of a dispute at the station as to the coin which had been given him—he said it was two shillings; I said, "I cannot contradict you, because I did not actually see the coin "—if two sixpences had been given he would not have had to go to the change-rack—I could not see what he took from the rack, because it was hidden from my view—I did not speak to the customers, they had gone—I had been away for ten days before this—the takings rise and fall at times—the place where the prisoner took the jug to get the water is five steps lower down than the bar—I did not hear the customer ask for water; he might have done so—the prisoner said at the police-station that I had not given him time to put the sixpence in the till—I am certain the change was placed on the counter before the prisoner went for the water—I caught him with the sixpence in his left hand.
Re-examined. The sixpenny slot would not admit a shilling—the takings went down while the prisoner was there, and the first week after he left it went up to the usual average.
FREDERICK KITSON (City Policeman 461). I was called to the Portugal, and took the prisoner into custody—in answer to the charge he said, "It is false"—he was searched at the station, and two sixpences and sixpence halfpenny in bronze were found on him; he denied the charge there—the prosecutor said if he liked to acknowledge it he would not press the charge against him—he said he would not.
Cross-examined. He said, "The manager took the sixpence out of my hand before I had time to put it in the till"—before the Magistrate he insisted on being sent for trial—he was admitted to bail.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. C.F. GILL and MUIR Prosecuted.
FREDERICK JERGENS . I am an agent for the Prudential Insurance Company, at Holborn Bars—in February last I met the prisoner; I knew him previously, he was a general agent and canvasser—he asked me what I had been doing—I said, "I have been after some business"—he stopped with me a little while—he said, "Have you got any policies going to be lapsed?"—I said, "No "—he said, "If you have any let me know "—the next time I saw him he said, "If you have any policies going to be lapsed I can get a certificate of death, and we will send it up as a claim to the insurance company "—I said, "I will have nothing to do with it; it is rather a risky game "—he said, "You won't run any risk, you won't see any one in the matter; I get you the certificate of death, and all you have to do is to send the claim up to the office "—he also said, "Don't be foolish; if we get a small claim from your office then we can insure a genuine account in seven or eight different offices at, say, threepence a week, and afterwards I can get a certificate of death, and we can draw about £200 from different assurance companies"—ho said an agent at Stratford bought some villas, which he could not do out of his salary—I said I would consider his proposal—I communicated with the chief office and the police—afterwards I met the prisoner by appointment on July 15th—I then gave the prisoner this policy on the life of Daisy Emily Lumley—it had not lapsed; another
policy had been issued in substitution for it; it was not a valid policy—I told the prisoner it was going to lapse—I gave him the blank claim form—he took it away—he said the other man would have nothing to do with it, he would not trust me, he was afraid I would split—he said the doctor who made the certificate of death ought to receive 15 per cent, out of the claim, and the rest would be divided between him and me—he said the doctor would not be seen in it at all—on 17th July I saw him again; he watched for me and waited at the corner of the square—when I came home he produced this certificate from his stocking. (This purported to be a certificate of the death of Daisy Emily Lumley on 15th July, 1891, at 37, Gravel Lane, Houndsditch, certified by F. Scott, M. R. C. S., the informant of death being D. Lumley, father-in-law of the deceased)—I agreed to meet him nest day, the 18th—he asked me to send in the claim the same night; he left the certificate with me—I again communicated with the police, and on 20th July I went with the inspector in plain clothes to the White Hart public-house in Leman Street, Whitechapel, where I saw the prisoner, and he was taken in charge—on the Saturday night, the 18th, he asked me, "Have you got the money?"—I said, "The postman Las not come, and I could not wait any longer, so I expect I shall have it on Monday morning."
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I met you I did not tell you I was going to pay a claim—I did pay a claim that day—I did not ask you to go with me, because I did not like your company—we went into two public-houses—I wanted to get rid of you—you spoke to a man named Samuel White—I did not conceal his name—I did not mention the name before the Magistrate—I acted under the advice of the inspector, in case he was wanted—I last saw him on 8th July, when he was in your company—I did not appoint to meet you and White on the 15th; I simply said, "Meet me on Wednesday"—we did not come together.
WILLIAM BICKNELL . I am registrar of births, deaths, and marriages of St. Botolph, City—my office is at 43, Bishopsgate Without—on 17th July the prisoner came there to register a death—I asked the usual questions—I said, "Are you a relative?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Where you present at the death?"—he said, "Yes"—he gave me this certificate—I then made the entry—I asked the name of the person informing, he said, "G. Lumley," he described himself as the father-in-law; I thereupon made out the certificate of burial—he said he wanted a copy of the entry for the insurance company—I asked him which one he produced a card of the Liverpool and Victoria—I gave him a certificate, he signed this application for it.
Cross-examined. At times a certificate is asked for not by a relative.
DAISY EMILY LUMLEY . I was formerly Daisy Emily Morpeth—I have changed my name for family reasons—I took out a fresh policy in the name of Lumley—I do not know the prisoner—I never lived at 37, Gravel Lane, or died there.
Cross-examined. I don't know anything about the policy, my mother conducted the insurance.
lived at that address, and had no right to use it—no person named Lumley ever lived there.
EDMUND READ (Inspector H). I have had charge of this case—I was in communication with the witness Jergens, and knew what was taking place with reference to the prisoner—on 20th July I went to a public house in Leman Street, and saw the prisoner—I told him I should take him into custody for forging this declaration and certificate, and endeavouring to obtain money—he immediately came out—I took him to the station, and I found on him a pocket-book which contained entries of his appointments with Jergens—the charge was read over to him at the station; he made no answer to it.
The prisoner in his defence stated that the proposition to commit the fraud tame from Jergens, and that he declined to have anything to do with it—that Jergens had also made the same proposition to Samuel White, who he desired to tall, but he did not appear.
GUILTY He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of fraud at this Court on 16th September, 1889— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
MORRIS WOOLF . I live at 40, Latimer Street, Mile End-at a quarter to four a.m. on 20th August I was awakened by a police constable, by whom I saw the prisoner being taken out through my window without any boots on—the window looks on to the street—the night before I had bolted the door, the window was closed, and there is a wire blind which is screwed in on each side—I missed nothing.
CHARLES CIDER (H 293). At twenty minutes to four a.m. on 20th August I was passing Latimer Road, and I observed the window was open—I looked through the window and saw the prisoner lying between the sofa and the table-his boots were on the sofa—I twice asked what he was doing there; he made no answer—I pulled him up; he said nothing then—he did not appear sleepy or drunk—I pulled him through the window—I asked him what he was doing there; he said he thought the house was empty; he went to have a sleep—I searched him at the station and found these articles (produced) on him—none of them has been clamied by anyone—he said he had been nine years in the Irish Constabury.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: I was drunk."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOND Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
JAMES MURRAY DEWEY . I am a merchant, I lived at 31, Harrington Square—on Wednesday 12th August, I was at Kempton Park Races—I left the races about five, prior to the last race—when I arrived at the railway platform there were a number of people there, but it was not very crowded for a race day—I wished to get a fairly empty carriage, and walked up the train looking for one—I saw a carriage fairly empty and tried to enter it, a man's arm across the doorway prevented; I still tried
to enter, and expostulated with the man for barring the door—he held up his hand and pretended to call someone by the name of Bill, saying there was a party of them—I was surrounded by a crowd, and was not able to move; I felt a hand in my right-hand trousers pocket—I broke backwards through the persons, and then I observed several Bank of England notes fluttering about, which I supposed I had knocked out of the man's hand when pushing through—some of the notes went under the train—three or four people, among them the prisoner, sprang from the platform under the train and picked them up—I saw the prisoner coming up on to the platform again with bank notes in his right hand—I was about two feet off him—I demanded them, as they were mine—the prisoner said something, I don't know what; he tried to bluff me—I then accused him of having picked my pocket—I caught him by the left arm and held his sleeve; there was no attempt on his part to break away; there was no struggle—I did not understand what he said when I demanded the notes—a man came up on the opposite side of the prisoner—he overheard me say to the prisoner that he had picked my pocket—he stopped for perhaps fifteen seconds on the prisoner's right side—he pushed his face round in front of me and told me I was a b-liar—I had not addressed that man; he passed down the platform—I saw nothing besides the notes in the prisoner's hands—I called for a policeman, and gave the prisoner into custody—I accompanied him to the police-station—I did not know how much money was on me when I was leaving the racecourse—I ascertained at the police-station how much I had—I calculated how much I had when I left the course, and I found notes to the amount of £35 were missing—I could not tell the numbers nor the denomination of the notes.
Cross-examined. I did not know how many I had when I left the course, because I had made no mental calculation—I had betted on several races, and I had won close on £800—I counted the money before putting it into my pocket when the bookmakers gave it to me—some of the notes were for £100, others for £50, £20, £10, and £5—I don't know what kind of notes I lost—I calculated at the police-station what I ought to have had, and so I calculated what I had lost—there were a considerable number of people on the platform all looking for carriages—I do not go to races very often; I had attended several meetings—I did not notice the faces of the people who surrounded me—the tram was drawn up at the platform—two or three, or possibly four, people jumped down between the carriages—I noticed the prisoner when he jumped on to the line, and when he came up I took hold of him; he was holding the notes then, I saw them in his hand—I caught hold of his left arm—I never let him go till the police constable came—I did not see him pass the notes to anybody—I don't know where his opera glasses were; I did not notice a pair in his hand—if the deposition says that I stated, "I noticed the prisoner had field glasses in his possession, but whether they were slung or in his hand I cannot say," I must have said it; I don't recollect saying so; but my recollection was fresher then—I do not know that he had his glasses in his left hand—holding him by the left arm I would have noticed if they were—I was a little excited perhaps—the train did not move off while I was there—it was perhaps one and a half or two minutes before the constable came up—I told him
that the man had picked my pocket, to the best of my recollection—I don't recollect faying anything to the constable about the prisoner having notes in his right-hand trousers pocket—I do not know what the prisoner said—to the best of my recollection I said to the prisoner at the railway station when I seized him, "Give me back the notes you have in your hand, as they are mine "—he denied the charge.
Re-examined. The man who barred my passage stood on the step, and barred it with his arm—he made no attempt to enter the train himself.
CHARLES WILLIAM ADAMS (London and South-Western Railway Company's Constable). On "Wednesday, 12th August, about half-past five, I was on duty at the departure platform, Sunbury, when I heard someone calling out "Police!" and on going down the train the prosecutor told mo he had had his pocket picked, and he accused the prisoner of having bank notes in his possession—he said he got down under the train to pick his notes up, and as he came up he had notes in his right hand, and he demanded them—I was at the far end of the train, and did not see the prisoner go under the train or come up—I had not seen him before, but I believe he is well known to the railway officials—I said I should take him into custody for being concerned with others in picking the prosecutor's pocket—he said, "I know nothing about his pocket nor his bank notes; I got down off the platform to pick up my glasses "—I handed the prisoner over to a Metropolitan constable, and accompanied him to the station—I was present when he was searched.
Cross-examined. The actual accusation which the prosecutor made against the prisoner at the time was that of having his bank notes in his possession, but he stated previously that his pocket had been picked—I did not say the prosecutor accused the prisoner of picking his pocket; I said he told me his pocket had been picked, and that the prisoner he believed had got possession of some of his notes that he had picked up from under the train—the prisoner said, "I dropped my glasses, and got down to pick them up "—I cannot say exactly if the prosecutor had hold of the prisoner's arm when I came up, because there were a lot of gentlemen there—I should say the prisoner's field glasses were in his hand—I had hold of his right hand, and the glasses were in his left, I should think—on the way to the station I noticed he had got field glasses—they were not slung over his shoulder, but were in his hand—I am not aware that any charge has ever been brought against the prisoner, but ho is known to the officials—at this time there were not a great number of people coming down to the train, because the last race had not been run—it was live o'clock, and the last race, I believe, was not till a quarter past—I saw no notes—the prosecutor said he had every reason to believe he had got the notes in his right-hand trousers pocket—the prosecutor was not under the influence of drink; he was a little excited, nothing cut of the way.
WILLIAM NORMAN (T 55). On Wednesday, 12th August, I was in charge of the Police-station when the prisoner was brought in, about 5.30—he was charged by the prosecutor for being concerned with two others in stealing Bank of England notes to the amount of £35, numbers and amounts unknown—ho was searched in my presence, and there were found on him a metal watch and chain four Bank of Engraving notes, a
pair of field glasses, and a memorandum-book, £4 gold, 1s. 5d., and 5 1/4 l., but no Bank of England notes.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ARMSTRONG Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GLOVER . I am a draper, of 14, Stockwell Street, Greenwich—towards the end of July the prisoner came, and said he was Mr. Grassey, an Italian importer of grasses—I introduced him to my manager of that department, and he gave the prisoner an order, which was delivered a few days after—a day or two after the prisoner called again, and asked for the money, and I gave him this cheque (produced)—he said he had not a banking account, and asked me to cash it for him—he endorsed it "T. Grassey "—I gave him the money for it—he receipted the invoice, and he went away—the prosecutor, T. Grassey, has since communicated with me; he wanted the money.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Very likely you presented a card with "I Grassey, importer of foreign grasses "—my buyer called at your address—I cannot say you said you were Grassey, but I understood that you were—I said if you would endorse the cheque I would cash it for you—I saw you endorse it—you signed "Tozziano Grassey," and then turned and looked at the front of it, and endorsed it again, "T. Grassey "—the receipt on the bill is in the name of T. Grassey.
TIZZIANO GRASSEY . I am a manufacturer of straw and fancy grass goods, at 10, Edmond's Place, Aldersgate Street—the prisoner travelled on commission for me—I got an order first from Mr. Glover, on 29th July—the prisoner showed him samples, and said that if Glover's people called he would have a commission, and Mr. Glover called, and we did a little business—the prisoner informed me that order was coming—the goods, value £2 8s., were sent off by Carter Paterson—I have not received the money—this endorsement on this cheque is not my writing, nor is this receipt—I never authorised the prisoner to sign for me; I have a banking account—the prisoner sometimes received money for mo when it was cash on delivery—I wrote to Mr. Glover when the money was not forthcoming—afterwards I asked the prisoner about it and he said, "It is nothing, I will give it to you; it is nothing to sign a cheque "—I afterwards gave him into custody.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I have been three years in business; I import goods from Italy—I have also a cigar and wine shop; at Great Portland Street, where I have a female partner, and where I live—I don't know if she is married—you wrote English letters for me, but I signed all letters myself—I have not brought my letter-book; no one told me to do so—the Magistrate asked the solicitor for it—there is no copying my signature on the cheque and the receipt—you sought to get an accommodation bill floated for yourself for £20; I was your guarantee—I allowed you to take something out of the warehouse, one Saturday, and pawn it, because you said you had sixteen children, and had no bread for them—I do not know anything about whether you did it in my name; I never looked at the ticket, you brought it to me; I think you got 10s.—I don't know if you tried to get my
bad debts in—I saw Mr. Lloyd, Mr. Glover's buyer, at my warehouse on the 18th; you fetched me in, and you said, "I will not come in; I will come when he is gone"—you told me to say to him, "It is all right now; I am sorry I have troubled you;" I did not say it—I did not say to him that you had goods on commission—I did not say, "I want no bother "—my warehouseman drew my attention to the fact that you were standing in the warehouse during that conversation—after Mr. Glover left I wrote you a letter, dated 18th August, stating that I wanted this matter to be put an end to; you asked me to write that letter. (This letter, which was read, stated that he was disposed to give the prisoner a chance to settle the matter in a friendly way, but that unless by Saturday the prisoner brought £6 11s. in cash and three bills for £8 each, he teas determined to proceed against him)—you had no salary; you were a commission agent—I wrote you this letter. (This stated that unless he called by to-morrow, and brought back the £2 7s. received from Mr. Glover, the police would have orders to loch him tip at once; and at the same time ice must settle other amounts, or they would be put in the hands of a collector)—if you had paid the money on the Saturday, nothing more might have been heard about this—you said you expected a gentleman to come, and as he did not you were disappointed, and asked me to leave it over—I met that gentleman on Monday, on the stairs of his office—I told him all I wanted was the money and to have that settled—I gave you to understand that if you paid the money I would take no notice of the forgery—I find there were some letters that went out with my name attached in your writing; I did not know of them till afterwards; they were without my knowledge—they are copied in my letter book—every Saturday you wanted money from me—I did not say I could not give it to you, because you said you had sixteen children.
By the JURY. I did not give him permission—I or my man copied my letters in the press.
Re-examined. There is nothing on the cheque to show he was endorsing it for me.
HENRY GILLARD (City 183). On 26th August, about nine o'clock, I was on duty, in plain clothes, in Walford Road, when the prosecutor communicated to me—I saw the prisoner and told him I was a police officer; I should take him to the station, where he would be charged with forgery—he said, "All right; I am glad this has happened. He has compounded a felony"—at the station, when the charge was read, the prisoner said, "He has compounded a felony. "
Cross-examined. You were with a lady—Mr. Grassey was in the house; I asked your wife to tell him we were outside—Grassey went away by tram; you refused to ride.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had the prosecutor's permission to sign his name on all letters, cheques, and receipts, and to do business in hit name, and that he had no intention to defraud.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner upon the same facts. MR. ARMSTRONG offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON. Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
NEW COURT.—Saturday and Monday, September 19th and 21st, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
712. LINDEN HOWARD (22) , Unlawfully assaulting Alice Sarah Sargent, and occasioning her actual bodily harm; Second Count, For taking the said girl, aged 16 years, out of the possession of Mary Jane Howe, having lawful charge of her, with intent that she should be carnally known; Third Count, Taking her out of her fathers possession with a like intent.
MR. BURNIE and MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. C. WILLIAMS
The COMMON SERJEANT, after argument, withdrew the first Count from the consideration of the Jury. GUILTY on the second and third Counts, — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
KATE TAME . I am the wife of Thomas Tame, a coal porter, of 72, Queen's Road, Hornsey Road—the prisoner came with three children, and took a bedroom on our first floor—the elder child Rose was about 15, the second, Lilly, about 9, and the third, Jessie, between 2 and 3—the prisoner is a night watchman, and was in regular employ most part of the time—Jessie seemed very healthy when she came, but small—she began to get thin until I took her to the hospital; a month or two after she came I showed her to a doctor and brought her back and told the prisoner that the doctor said it was a case of starvation—he said it was a hospital, and not a poorhouse—after that I saw that it was properly fed, but when I went to work it was neglected again—I am a charwoman—the child was not left alone, the eldest daughter looked after it—the prisoner was away once from Monday to Thursday, and only fourpence was left, and no food for the child—he said he was going to work—the children complained to me—the last week before the child was removed it was kept without food from the Monday to Friday—it was very dirty when it was removed, and had vermin, and it smelt very much—I paid the insurance man once when he came round, with a shilling which the prisoner gave me—I have seen the prisoner the worse for drink on several occasions.
MARGARET MUNNS . I am the wife of Thomas Munns, a coal porter, of 78, Queen's Road, a few doors from the last witness—I know the prisoner—I remember his little child Jessie being removed—it was in a dirty filthy condition, and it smelt; it was very ill and very thin—I have seen the prisoner on several occasions the worse for drink—I told him if he kept from drink and looked after his baby it would be better for him—he said he would try and keep from drink.
ELIZABETH BARCIAY . I am the wife of Henry Alexander Barclay, labourer, of 120, Dartmouth Park Road, and am the prisoner's sister—I have seen the baby, Jessie, twice—I removed it to the Shelter in Arthur Street, Bloomsbury, and took it to a doctor; it was very emaciated, and I gave it milk, cod liver oil, and broth—it was not clean, and there were vermin in its head.
ROSETTA DAY . I am the prisoner's daughter; I was examined for him in the Court below—my little sister Jessie was born in 1889—I do not agree with the landlady that my father was away four days, leaving nothing—the child was only one day without milk, and that was because I had not enough money—the child was ten months old when my mother died—the baby was very comfortable then—it had consumptive bowels—my father bought beef-tea for it, and eggs and milk—we got tickets from visitors; sometimes my father had work, sometimes none—I said at the inquest, "When my father used to drink, the child was neglected for two or three days together'—I agree with that now—I also said, "My father used to get drunk once a week"; that is right, and," When father got drunk he used to spend his money, and then there was nothing for the child'; that is true.
ROBERT FAULKNER . I am a registered medical practitioner of 16, Mecklenburgh Square—on August 10th I went with an officer of the society to Mr. Barclay's house, who had taken the child away—I saw the child Jessie there; it was very emaciated and very ill, and was removed to the Shelter, and afterwards died—I discovered no disease—it weighed, 11 lb. when it died, and if it was three years old I should expect it to weigh 28 lb.—the immediate cause of death was pneumonia; they nearly always die of pneumonia in that condition—Professor Pepper made a post-mortem examination, and I was with him—all the organs were healthy, but the base of the left lung was congested, which was the cause of death—I attribute the emaciation to want of food, it was not improperly fed, because there would have been diarrhœa, which there was not—the neglect and want of food must have been continuous—dirt would be injurious to the child's health.
The Prisoner called
JULIA NEWHAM . I am the wife of Henry Newham, of Holloway—I took the child from you when your wife was ill, and took it back to the mother because it did not get on at all—she has been dead about two years—the child was ten months old then, and when you lost your wife you asked me to have it again, but I would not because it was in a sickly state and always ill—I had it in a doctor's care for a very long time—when it was born the mother was in a rapid consumption and paralysed on her right side, and I took the baby away from her.
Cross-examined. The child would have been three years old on Sunday—I had it about six months—I have children of my own—it is not right if a child is delicate to keep it without milk—I have not seen the child for the last six or seven months—the prisoner used to get drunk sometimes—the child was insured; I asked him to insure it—the other children were insured, but it ran out, and only himself and this child were insured—his daughter applied for the insurance money, and they refused to pay the claim.
By the JURY. When I had the child it could not feed; that was two and a half years ago; the doctor told me it was consumption—it was three years old at the time of its death.
WILLIAM GEORGE DAY (the prisoner). I am a night watchman, and live at 42, Honduras Street, Liverpool Road—I never neglected the child; the money I earned I always gave to my girl to lay out in a proper way—I earned three shillings a night—if I earned fourteen or fifteen shillings I took home fourteen shillings and sixpence out of it—what drink I had
was given to me by the men on the work; I do not say I have not spent sixpence, because I have—my daughter kept house for me; I could not be at home, and if I did not get my orders by eleven o'clock in the day I got none at all, so sometimes it was twelve or 12.30 before I could get away so as to know whether I was to go the next night—my rent was two shillings and sixpence, and if I did not pay one week I paid two together—I have had rheumatic fever nine times, and am a cripple—I never tried to get the insurance money.
Cross-examined. I did not send my daughter to get it—I never went away for four days, leaving the child with nothing—I have never had any quarrel with Mrs. Tame; she bears me no malice—I cannot give any reason for her giving evidence against me—I used to get a drop of drink with the men, but they always said the watchman could not pay for it—I was not at the inquest—I cannot give any reason for my daughter saying that when I used to drink, the child was neglected for two or three days together—I did not get drunk and spend my money, and leave nothing for my child; I have always given my daughter money to lay out, but she spent it feeding herself, my little girl said—I did not always have 14s. 6d.; some weeks I did not earn it.
By the JURY. I cannot tell you how much the child was insured for; I have not looked at the policy; I never knew any of them had. been inquiring for the insurance-money; if I had not got the money I used to pay next week; it has run three or four weeks—the doctor said that the child had consumptive bowels, the same as the mother had.
He was further charged with being interested in the death of Jessie Day in the sum of £3, which was accruable on her death.
JOHN GEORGE MELK . I live at 28, Orpingly Road, Holloway, and am collector to the Liverpool Victoria Friendly Society—Jessie Day was insured there, and I collected the premiums from the prisoner, 1d. a week—he paid me 2d. on the 25th July—£3 would be due on her death—I do not know whether it has been applied for—I was not aware of the child's death—about 5d. would be due at the child's death—if the prisoner did not pay it would lapse in eight weeks—it had not lapsed—he had been in arrears sir or seven weeks, but not recently—his daughter paid the pennies—I have seen him; he entered the child and entered himself at the same time, November 9th, 1889—he would probably not have known of this insurance if I had not called on him—I was canvassing in the neighbourhood, and he came to the door and entered himself and the child which I saw in the girl's arms.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
714. JOHN WATKINS (22) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Johannes Adolph Bach, and stealing a cheque-book and two orders for the payment of £20 and £10, his property. Second Count, for receiving the same.
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
father, a farmer—on Friday, 31st July, about 11.45 a.m., the prisoner, who I did not know, stopped me in Craven Park, Willesden, and asked if I wanted to earn a couple of shillings—I said I did not mind he said, "All right," and got up into my cart, and we drove 50 to 80 yards—he said he wanted me to take a note to the bank, and bring him an answer back—I stopped; he got out and said he should not be above a minute or two, and went round a corner and returned and gave me a letter, and told me to take it to the bank and bring an answer back—I went there with the letter and was detained, and went to the Police-station and saw Messrs. Smith and Swaine; a policeman accompanied me to the cart—we went to where the prisoner told me to meet him, and he was not there, but my brother who was with me saw him behind a post; we drove there, and he went away and got behind another post, out of our sight—we followed; the policeman got out of the cart and went after him, and we went back to the station—I have no doubt he is the man.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. A perfect stranger gave me the letter, and I recognised him half an hour afterwards—I can swear to you by your jacket and trousers—when my brother came in I did not point you out and say, "That is him."
STEPHEN KING . I am the brother of the last witness, and was with him in the cart on 31st July—the prisoner asked him if he would earn a couple of shillings—he said, "What to do?"—the prisoner said, "Take a letter to the bank," and got up in the cart and rode fifty to eighty yards, and then told him to stop, and went round a corner and brought a letter, and said when he came back he was to come three doors round the corner with the answer—we drove to the bank; my brother went in, and did not come out till the inspector came out—I went with them to look for the prisoner, and at last saw him behind a post, and then he went behind two back yards, and we drove on, and the constable got out and went after him, and we drove to the station—I afterwards saw the prisoner with a number of other men, and identified him—I have no doubt about him—my brother did not point him out to me.
Cross-examined. My brother did not say, "That is him," nor did the inspector say, "You did not ought to have done that"—I had never seen you till you came up to the cart.
GEORGE SMITH (Inspector X). On 31st July, about ten a.m., I received information of a burglary at Mr. Bach's house—I went there—the catch of the front parlour window had been forced—about 11.30 the manager of the National Bank at Harlesden came to the station, and brought this letter ("6, Craven Park Villas. Dear Sir,—Kindly let bearer have enclosed in notes for £5 each in parcel, and oblige yours truly, J. A. Bach. "This contained a cheque for £20 on the National Bank, Limited, Willesden branch, to J. A. Bach or order. Signed J. A. Bach.)—Swaine then went out in a cart, and returned with the prisoner—I placed him with other men, and Bertie King went in by himself, touched the prisoner, and said, "This is the man"—he remained, and the other boy came in and did likewise—he was charged with breaking and entering, and said, "I know nothing about it"—Mr. Bach came and identified the cheque.
Cross-examined. When the little brother came to point you out, the
elder one stood opposite, but he did not point you out—the younger one was not in the room when the elder one pointed you out.
JOHANNES ADOLPH BACH . I live at 6, Craven Villas, Harlesden—on 30th July I fastened my house securely—the parlour window was secure—I heard a noise about three o'clock, but did not go down—I came down at 7.30 and found the window unfastened, but down, and missed three loose cheques from my desk—this is one of them—they were not endorsed the night before—they have my wife's signature—the endorsement is not mine, nor is the letter—I found the flowers under the window tumbled about, and some grazing of the window-sill, and some dirt on the sash.
Cross-examined. I never saw you before you were brought to the station—I cannot swear you were ever on my premises.
JAMES SWAINE (X R 36). On 31st July, Friday morning, I was at the station in plain clothes, and heard that a burglary had been committed—I received instructions to go to the National Bank, and got into a cart with the two Kings, and went to the place where they met the prisoner; he was not there—we drove round the neighbourhood, and they pointed out a man going across the fields—I got out of the cart and went after him—it was the prisoner—he was walking very fast—I told him I should take him to the station for sending two boys to the bank with a cheque—he said he knew nothing about it—I was present when the boys identified him—one boy did not say to the other, "That is the man. "
Cross-examined. A return ticket was found on you. (From Willesden to Uxbridge Road)—that is about seven minutes' ride.
Prisoner's Defence. I took that ticket at 11.33, and how could I give the boy this message at 11.45?—he say she swears to me by my clothes; other people wear clothes like mine—I am entirely innocent.
GUILTY on the Second Count. —He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court on June 23, 1890, in the name of Frederick Whitcombe.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 21st, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder,
MR. WALLACE Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended,
WALTER HENRY LAMPARD . I am a grocer, with my father, at 44, Bishopsgate Street Within—on 28th July, about half-past twelve, the prisoner came into the shop and said, "Will you send 6 lb. of tea to this address?" handing me this label—Mrs. Hatch, whose name is on it, is a customer of ours—she said, "Make out a bill for it," which I did, and handed it to her, upon which she gave me this note, which I supposed to be a Bank of England note for £10—I had not sufficient change, and I gave it to our lad Roberts; he took it to a neighbour and brought back £10 in gold—in the meantime the prisoner said she was rather strange to London, it seemed very different to her own home, and she then asked me the way to Snow Hill; I directed her—I gave her £8 17s. in change for the note, and she left—she was by herself at this time—at half-past three the same afternoon Sergeant Denning called, and I went
with him to Mr. Douglas, and he gave me the note back—I did not receive any other Bank of England note that day.
Cross-examined. I don't think the prisoner's little daughter was in the shop—there was no conversation about the note—I did not ask her any questions; I just glanced at the note—I did not ask her to sign her name.
JOSEPH McLOCHLIN . I am a clerk in the employ of the Waterbury Watch Company, 7, Snow Hill—on 28th July, near one o'clock, the prisoner came there and said, "I want one of your lady's silver Geneva watches," at the same time laying this paper on the counter, with the address of Mrs. R. Vincent on it; it is one of our forms—I asked her to let me look at the paper—I took a watch out of the window to show her—she said, "Retail, you know"—she said it would do, and produced this note for £10—I took it to Mr. Pindar, our cashier, he showed it to Mr. Rankin, and they came to the counter and asked the prisoner if she was Mrs. Vincent—she said, "Yes"—Mr. Pindar went out with the note.
Cross-examined. I think the prisoner said something about being sure that it was a good note—she waited in the shop while Mr. Pindar went to the Bank to ascertain if it was a good note—I should not have let her leave—when Mr. Rankin showed her the note she took hold of it, and he took it from her again.
JAMES PINDAR . I am accountant to the Waterbury Watch Company—I was in the office when McLochlin came to me with this note—I showed it to Mr. Rankin, who came to the counter with me—I asked the prisoner, "Are you Mrs. Vincent?"—she said, "I am"—I said, "This note is bad; where did you get it?"—Mr. Rankin asked her the same, and later on she said, "Oh, I know"—I held the note out to her—she clutched it out of my hand—Mr. Rankin said, "Give that over"—I went and put my back against the door—she then handed the note to Mr. Rankin—he gave it to me, and I took it to the station, and gave it to the inspector, who handed it to Sergeant Denning.
RUTH VINCENT . I live at Clifton Place, Haywards Heath—I am a customer of the Waterbury Watch Company—this label is addressed to me—I do not know the prisoner—I never gave her authority to get a watch from the Waterbury Watch Company.
THOMAS LEE SOUTHGATE . I am inspector of notes to the Bank of England—these notes are forgeries, and exceedingly bad ones—they have no water-mark—I stamped this one "forged" on 28th July—I received it from Mr. Hazelgrave, the deputy principal of our office, and gave it back to him stamped "forged. "
WILLIAM HAZELGRAVE . I am deputy-principal of the Bank Note Department, Bank of England—I received this note from William Wallis on 28th July, and handed it to Mr. Southgate—I got it back from him immediately, and gave it back to Mr. Wallis.
England—on 28th July I received this note from Mr. Graham, and gave it to Mr. Hazelgrave; I got it back from him, and gave it to Mr. Graham.
DANIEL DENNING (City Detective Sergeant). On 28th July I was at Snow Hill Police-station—I saw Mr. Pindar; he gave me this note—I went with it to the Bank of England, and handed it to the last witness—I got it back from him marked "forged"—I then went to 7, Snow Hill, and saw Mr. Pindar and the prisoner—Mr. Pindar said in her presence, "This woman has tendered this note in payment for a watch to one of our salesmen"—I said, "I am a police officer; this is a forgery on the Bank of England; how do you account for having it in your possession?"—she said, "I found it about two or three years ago at Brighton"—I took her into custody, and took her to the station—on the way there she said she found three of them two years ago and lost one of them a few months ago—she was charged with forging and uttering—she said she did not know they were bad; "I had a row with my husband this morning; I pawned a ring for ten shillings for me and my little girl to come to London"—she gave her correct name and address, "Rose Hannah Clark, 4, King Street, Brighton"—£9 10s. 1 1/2 d. was found on her, and a pawn-ticket for a ring pawned at Brighton, and this label; it was in consequence of that I went to 44, Bishopsgate Street Within—this other note was handed to me by Constable Phillips—after returning from Mr. Lampard's, I said to the prisoner, "You will be further charged with forging and uttering this note"; she said, "Quite true; I did not like to tell you."
Cross-examined. She said, "My little girl found the notes about two or three years ago."
HENRY PHILLIPS (City Constable 255). On 28th July I went to 7, Snow Hill, and saw the prisoner sitting in a chair in a corner by the counter—I kept observation on her for about twenty minutes—I then saw her raise her dress, and push down the stocking on her left leg—I heard the rustle of paper; I rushed across and caught hold of her left hand, which was clenched; I opened it, and took from it this note—I said to her, "Where did you get this from?"—she said she found it at Brighton—I said, "Is that the only explanation you can give for the possession of it?"—she said, "Yes; I had three, but I lost one"—I said, "You had better not say anything more till Sergeant Denning arrives; he has gone to the Bank of England to make inquiries about the note you tendered here in payment of a watch"—she said, "All right; I won't say anything more till he comes back."
Cross-examined. I have heard that her husband keeps a small shop at Brighton—I received this card from the female searcher, who took it from the prisoner's daughter; she was outside the shop on Snow Hill, and went to the station with the prisoner.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not know they were bad."
Witnesses for the Defence.
or three years ago I found three £10 notes in Trafalgar Street, Brighton—I brought them home, and gave them to my father; he looked at them, and said they were no good, and threw them in the fireplace.
KATE CLARK . I am the sister of last witness—two or three years ago I was living at home—I remember my sister bringing some notes home; father said they were no good, and threw them in the fireplace; mother picked them up, and gave them to my brother; she afterwards gave them to me, and I put them in a box in her room.
Cross-examined. I came up to London with my mother, and went with her straight to the shop in Bishopsgate.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
GUILTY on Second Count. — Eight Days' Imprisonment each.
MR. ARMSTRONG Prosecuted; MR. GRAIN Defended Ekenstam, and MR. PURCELL Defended Major.
The prisoners received good characters.
GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
HENRY CLARKE . I live at 35, St. Paul's Crescent, Camden Town, and am a compositor—on Saturday, 15th August, about half-past eight, I was at the Queen's Arms, in the Caledonian Road—I saw the prisoner there with two companions, and got into conversation with them—I paid for some drink for them—we left together, and were proceeding towards the Angel, and while in North Street or Collier Street the prisoner deliberately struck me on the mouth with his fist, and knocked me down—at the same time I felt a hand clench my watch-chain, and the watch was taken out of my pocket—while I was on the ground I felt a hand go into my right-hand trousers pocket, and about 19s. 6d. was taken out; I also missed a pocket-knife—the prisoner and the other two ran away—I went home, and on Sunday night, about seven o'clock, I went to King's Cross Road Police-station and made a complaint, and gave a description of my watch—from there, as I was going towards the Victoria public-house, at the corner of York Road, I saw the prisoner talking to two other persons—I got up sufficiently close to identify the prisoner, and went to the corner of the street where there was a constable; he came with me, and I gave the prisoner into custody inside the Victoria public-house—when told the charge he said, "It is a mistake; he is mistaken altogether"—or words to that effect—I have not the slightest doubt of the prisoner's identity—my watch was worth £4.
JOHN DAMPIER (G 428). On Sunday night, 16th August, the prisoner was given into my custody by the last witness—I told the prisoner the charge; he said it was a mistake; it was not him; he could prove where he was—York Road is about two hundred yards from Caledonian Road—they run parallel—the Queen's Arms is about three hundred yards from the Lincoln's Arms—I searched and found 3d. on the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I saw you outside the Victoria public-house at a quarter to ten on the night of the robbery with two or three others, and told you to go away—that was from a quarter to half a mile from where the robbery took place.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "There are two gentlemen who, I know, can prove I was in the Lincoln's Arms at the time the prosecutor said I robbed him; one is Stevens and the other Oakley."
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. REVINGTON Prosecuted.
MR. REVINGTON offered no evidence against ADAMS and ELDER.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE RICHARD TILLER . I live at the Spread Eagle, Theobalds Road—on 31st July, Keats, who was my potman, was there up to closing time, and when the house was closed he swept out the bar and went down to the cellars to put away his brooms—I closed the door after he left, and I examined the doors and windows and found them closed—next morning I found that the bolts in the cellar had been withdrawn from the flap—I found silver gone from the silver rack, and coppers had been taken from a cupboard in the bar, which had been forced open; in all I missed nearly £30—I found an ice-pricker, which had been in the bar, close against the spot, and which corresponded with the marks where the cupboard had been forced—the prisoner did not come to his work again—I gave information to the police, who came and examined the premises—I saw Keats in custody on the 24th.
By the COURT. The prisoner went home to sleep—I let him out and bolted the door after him about ten minutes to one—the cellar flap is on the pavement, the bolt is in the cellar; if the bolt was drawn anyone could get into the cellar through the flap.
WILLIAM BONNELL (Detective E). On 1st August I received information from Mr. Tiller, and went to his house—I examined the cellar and found the bolts were unfastened in the flap—no doors or windows were unfastened when the prosecutor came downstairs—the bolts were drawn from inside, and afterwards the entry was made from outside by lifting the cellar-flap, and passing through into the bar—I found the lock of the cupboard door had been forced off; an ice-pricker in the bar corresponded with the marks—I took the prisoner into custody on 24th August, and told him the charge—he said at the station he should not have done it if it had not been for the men, Thomas Oates (that is Adams's nickname) and Jemmy Elder. "I saw them outside the house after closing time; we went for a walk round the houses, and afterwards came back, lifted the cellar-flap, and went downstairs, got into the bar, and took
the money and handed it to the other two"—he afterwards made this longer statement: "About a fortnight before this burglary occurred I saw Adams outside the public-house, while cleaning the windows; he asked me how I was getting on; I said, 'All right. 'He asked me if I had any money; I said, 'No;' he said, 'Do you know of anything?' I said, 'What do you mean?' He said, 'Cannot we do anything in here?' he meant the public-house, where I worked. On the night when I left off work I saw Adams and Elder outside; they asked me what I was going to do, and we had a walk round the house till two in the morning. We came back to the public-house again, and got through the flap, and went upstairs and got the money. I went downstairs. When I got the money we all shared, about £3 odd a piece."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he did not go down the cellar-flap, but through the private entrance.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony in February, 1890.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS prosecuted.
FRANK HERBERT ENDINE . I am a picture-frame maker on the ground-floor of 98, Fleet Street; I am landlord of the house—there is a private door at the side leading to the offices—Mr. Stannard, the editor of Golden Gates, occupies the first floor—on 30th July, at ten minutes to seven, I was on the second floor and heard a crash—I went on to the landing and looked over the balustrade to the floor below, and saw the prisoner standing at the door of Mr. Stannard's front office—he hesitated a moment, and then walked in—I went downstairs directly, and met the prisoner coming out of the office carrying a newspaper parcel resembling this under his arm—I said, "What are you doing there?"—he said, "Oh, I have just been into the office"—he was proceeding to go downstairs, he was in front of me—I said, "There is no one in the office"—as I had gone upstairs to my room the door was closed, and I knew that none of Mr. Stannard's people were there—the key had been left in the shop an hour previously—men the prisoner went downstairs and I put my head round the door to see if anyone was in the room—I left the door open and followed the prisoner downstairs into the passage and into the street—I kept close to him, and said, "I should like to know what you have in that parcel"—he said, "Who are you?"—I said, "I am the landlord"—he said, "Oh, I will show you; come back upstairs"—he went back into the passage, and I said, "Show me here"—he said, "Oh no, come upstairs"—he went upstairs, and turned and went out of my sight—I went round to the front of the shop, and spoke to my shopman to fetch a policeman—I went back to the side door, and stopped there for three minutes—while waiting I heard Mr. Stannard's door pulled to—the constable arrived, and I went upstairs with him—Mr. Stannard's door was closed, not as I had left it—I tried it—I went further upstairs on to the half-landing, where there is a lavatory—I opened the door of the lavatory and found the prisoner inside—I said, "What are you doing there? where is that parcel
you had?"—he said, "I did not have one"—I gave him in charge, and went to the station with him—after that I came back to the house with two constables, and went with one of them to Mr. Stannard's office door—I had sent down for the key, which was still in the shop, and directed the door to be opened, so that when I came back it was open—the detective searched the room—I noticed on the floor, under the writing table, this newspaper spread out; it looked like the piece of newspaper he was carrying—I found the cash-box on the mantelpiece—Palmer made a further search—the door has a catch lock—the key was given to me about six o'clock.
SAMUEL STIMPSON (471 City). About twenty minutes past seven on the evening of 30th July I was called to 98, Fleet Street, and went upstairs with the last witness—we found the prisoner in the lavatory—Mr. Endine asked the prisoner what he was doing; he said he had been in the closet—Mr. Endine said, "Where is that parcel?"—the prisoner said, "I have not got one"—then he was given into my custody, and I took him to the station, where he was charged with breaking and entering the office—he made no reply—I searched and found on him several papers and two unmarked handkerchiefs—he gave two addresses—I was behind Mr. Endine when the prisoner said, "I have not got one"—he had no parcel.
WILLIAM PALMER (Detective City). On 30th July I went to 98, Fleet Street, and with Saunders searched the office on the first floor—the door had been forced with some instrument, and there were four distinct marks on the door and door-post which corresponded with this mortice chisel which I found, together with fourteen loose keys, two cigarettes, and a little tobacco, lying at the back of a number of books in a large pantry leading from the office—it is an instrument that could break open the door—I took it to the station and showed it to the prisoner, and said, "You will be charged with breaking and entering the office, 98, Fleet Street, with this instrument"—he said, "No one saw me with that in my hand"—I said, "No one said they did"—these keys are not skeletons, but are of common pattern, and would open almost every ordinary lock—there is a spring lock as well as an ordinary lock to this door—the marks were on the outer office door.
FRANK STEVENS . I am managing clerk to Mr. Arthur Stannard, the proprietor of Golden Gates, who occupies the office on the first floor of this house—I left the office at five o'clock—this cash-box is my master's property—I left it on the mantelpiece; I cannot say what was in it—I do not know the prisoner—this chisel and these keys do not belong to us; they had no business behind the books.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony in October, 1889, in the name of John Weston, at this Court.
A Police-officer stated that the prisoner was suspected of hating committed about fifty robberies in the Temple and the neighbourhood since his liberation from prison in October.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. JONES LEWIS Prosecuted.
and am coachman to Esther Geraldine West, who lives at 113, Holland Road—Miss West went away on a visit for three weeks, leaving her house in my charge, and on 1st August, between four and five, I locked it up—the scullery window was not then broken; there were no burnt matches nor candle in the area—I went home—between nine and ten the same evening the constable came to me and I went back with him to the house—the scullery window was then broken; it was of very thick frosted glass—I saw the constable find burnt matches—nothing had been taken from the house.
Cross-examined by Brown. A person could have got through by taking out the pane of glass—the window was not broken from the inside; there was some glass on a bench inside and some outside—the window was broken after I left the house—the hole was as large as my hat.
THOMAS MORIATY (F 139). About half-past eight on the evening of 31st August I was on duty near this house—I saw both prisoners coming along Holland Road, from the direction of Hammersmith, looking at the houses and into the areas—I suspected them, and kept them under observation—at Holland Gardens they remained in conversation for about ten minutes; they kept looking at me, but I did not seem to take any notice of them—I was in uniform—I was about fifty yards from them—they were in conversation in Russell Gardens for ten minutes; they went some distance down Holland Road—I got into the gardens unobserved by the prisoners, and kept them under observation; I then lost sight of them near Addison Gardens—I remained very quiet in the gardens for twenty minutes or a quarter of an hour, when I heard a loud smashing of glass—another constable who was keeping observation on the other side of the road came across the road, and we both had a look into a few areas, but could not find the prisoners—knowing 113 was under our control with no person in charge, we entered the area and found the prisoners half stooping in a dark corner there—I asked them what they were doing there—Brown said he came there to ease himself, and Hodgson said he came there to sleep—the scullery window was broken; by taking out three or four little pieces they could have entered—the other constable found a knife on Hodgson—at the station I found on Brown this box of silent matches, a candle, and some used matches, corresponding with those found on Brown, were found in the area.
Cross-examined by Brown. I know nothing about a row in the Hammersmith Road; you were coming from that direction.
SAMUEL WARRY (F 341). On 31st August I had been watching the prisoner with the last witness, and about nine o'clock I heard a crash in Holland Road—the account given by the last witness is correct—I saw the two prisoners secreted in the area—Hodgson put his hand in his coat pocket, and I immediately caught hold of his hand, and he drew out this table-knife, and I put it in my pocket—they were taken to the station, and I afterwards returned to examine the premises—I found these loose burnt matches and this candle in the area—I found a number of pieces of glass inside the window.
Brown's statement before the Magistrate: "No, I hope to Christ you may not live to try another half-dozen men; that you may die in the chair. "
Brown, in his defence, said that he was discharged from prison in July this year; that he had been drinking with friends, when a quarrel arose with a cabman, and that a policeman coming up Hodgson and he went off; that in Holland
Road they thought a policeman was following them on account of the row, and they went into the area to hide, but knew nothing of the candle.
Hodgson made a similar statement, and said that the knife found on him he used to trim flowers with.
GUILTY of attempted burglary. Brown then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in July, 1888, and Hodgson to one** in July, 1889, at Middlesex Sessions.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 22nd, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. C.F. GILL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. HUTTON and BIRON Prosecuted; MESSRS. GILL and DUKE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LYONS Prosecuted.
EMANUEL EDWARDO CHIOZZA . I live at 36, Colveston Crescent, Dalston—at 11.30 p.m. on 14th August I was in Old Street looking for a tram—the prisoner walked very close behind me, spitting about the pavement and past my face—I remonstrated with him—he turned and used very violent language, and seeing he intended to pick a row I called the attention of a constable, who said he could not see any spittle, but told the prisoner not to continue following me—I walked on; the prisoner came behind me, touched me on the shoulder and said, "Do you know what I mean to do with you?"—I said, "I don't know what you mean to do; if you continue following me in this manner I shall give you in charge"—he said, "I don't care what you are going to do; I am going to charge you with rape"—I said, "I don't know what you mean"—I smiled rather—he said, "Indecent assault in the urinal down the street"—he called two or three companions who had followed him, and said, "Did not this man indecently assault me in the urinal?"—he called on them as witnesses—I don't know if he or one of the other men then struck me, but I was knocked down, and I was dazed for a minute, and when I got up I found Barraud had hold of the prisoner—the prisoner had struck me once during the altercation on the side of the face—I am all right again now; my eye was bloodshot for about a fortnight afterwards—after I had been to the station I found I had been robbed.
JAMES GOLIGHER (G 350). On the night of 14th August I was in Old Street, and saw the prosecutor, and the prisoner following after him—the prosecutor complained of the prisoner spitting on his coat—I looked and saw no spittle on it; but I cautioned the prisoner not to follow the prosecutor—they went away; the prisoner following the prosecutor.
14th August I saw the prisoner and prosecutor and a large crowd in Old Street—the prosecutor charged the prisoner with assault—I took him into custody and to the station, where he was charged.
WILLIAM VINCE BARRAUD . I was walking along Old Street towards my home on the night of the 14th August, and saw the prisoner and two other men following the prosecutor—I walked smartly past them, and stood under the shadow of a wall, and watched what took place under the tree—I saw the prisoner from behind the prosecutor deal him a smart blow, and he struck him again, as the prosecutor half-faced him, and knocked him on to the ground—the other two men sprang from the edge of the kerb, and caught hold of the prosecutor as he was on the ground—I came out and engaged with the prisoner, and after giving him two or three smart punches I turned my attention to the prosecutor; the other two men made a pretence that they were picking the prosecutor off the ground—the prisoner, whom I held, said, "You have no business to interfere in this; why do you interfere?"—I said, "I saw you strike him a cowardly blow"—he said, "Do you know what he has been doing to me?"—I said, "No"—he made a motion with his hands—I said, "What do you mean by that?'—he said, "He made an indecent assault on me"—I said, "Where did he do that?"—he said, "In the urinal down there"—I said, "You waited till you got here?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "It is a lie, because I watched you from the urinal"—his friends said, "You had better do a guy, Charlie"—I said, "He does not do a guy now," and I sent a bystander for the police.
Cross-examined. You appeared to be perfectly sober.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that the prosecutor behaved indecently towards him, and that on his saying he was going to charge him, the prosecutor aimed a blow at him; that someone charged him with assault, and he was taken to the station and charged.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for robbery with violence on Emanuel Edwardo Chiozza, and stealing his purse and 30s.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 22nd, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PAUL TAYLOR Prosecuted.
THOMAS LEATHER . I am a salesman, of 7, Russell Street, Covent Garden—on 12th March I had a house to let at 29, Philip Road, Peckham, and received this letter. (From G. Porter, of 28, Mansfield Road, Clapton Park, saying that he had called to see the witness about the house in Rye Lane, but not finding him at home he enclosed his references, namely, his landlord, Mr. Smith, of 175, Sandringham Road, Dalston, and Mr. Vagle, of 78, Leytonstone Road, Stratford) —I wrote to Mr. Smith, and received this reply:—"Dear Sir, Re G. Porter,—I have every reason to believe you will find in him all that can be desired in a tenant, etc.—Yours truly, H. SMITH "—I then wrote to 394, Milfield Road, and received a reply from the prisoner, which I have lost; I then wrote, telling him his reference was quite satisfactory,
and I would call and see him any evening he chose to mention—he replied that as he was out so much, travelling in the boot and shoe trade I might call several times and not find him, but he would call on me the following evening, March 18th—he did so, and I agreed to let him the house, and said that an agreement should be prepared in a few days—I told him I had moved nearer the market, and had no use for my pony, phaeton, and harness—he said he had a friend who would most likely purchase them—the price was £30—on March 20th he called again, and executed this agreement. (This was to take the house by the year, at£32 rent, payable quarterly, subject to a quarter's notice after the first year)—I handed him the keys of the house, and he said his friend would call on me—two men called, one gave the name of Allen, and said he was a veterinary surgeon; they looked at the lot, and agreed that I should take them for a drive the following Sunday, when they were to decide; but before that I received this letter from the prisoner. (Offering to buy the pony and cart if the witness had not sold them, having had an accident to his own pony, and stating that he would call that evening.)—he called and arranged to come the following Friday morning to try the pony—he said he had had an accident with his cob in Lea Bridge Road—I took him for a drive, and his friend, who called himself Allen, drove by us and pulled up outside the park; we went into a public-house and drank, and Allen said, "I see you have got my friend Porter out with it; I was coming about it next Sunday"—I said, "Being my tenant, and a sound man, I prefer letting him have it, to a stranger"—I finally sold it to the prisoner for £28; he paid £5 on account, and said he had some heavy bills out, but he would forward me £5 in the course of the week to make up the £10, and would finish the whole in a month—I let the prisoner go into my house, believing Mr. Smith's reference was true, and I let him purchase the pony and cart, he having had an accident, and being my tenant, and having a good reference, I thought it would be better for me to oblige a tenant—on May 12th or 13th, in consequence of something which came to my knowledge, I went to 29, Philip Road, Peckham, and found the yard-gate open, the yard door torn off its hinges, and only one sound lock left in the house, some of the others had been removed and others broken; the shelves were torn out of the wardrobe cupboard, half the door taken away from the coach-house, the lamp taken from the hall, and a pair of steps taken away—the fixtures were included in the rent—I-found no one there—the key had disappeared—about a month ago I saw my pony at Aldridge's, with five inches of his tail cut off—it is one of the best ponies in London.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner, I employed a woman who lived opposite, to hold the keys of the premises—I never promised you £2 commission if you found a buyer for the pony, but my wife said, "We will take a little pity on him on account of the accident," and £2 was taken off—I have found out that Francis Allen had his van in your stable—the rent was to be paid quarterly from March 25th, and you went out on the 11th or 12th May; all the money I have received from you was £5 for the pony—I do not know whether you lent any furniture in; I saw two chairs through the window—I found heaps of straw in every room—you suggested the agreement.
Re-examined. I should have suggested it if he had not—I should not
have allowed him to execute it if it had not been for the reference—I found the house deserted, and had it locked up, and communicated with the police.
ELIZABETH MARRIOTT . I am the wife of John Marriott, of 294, Millfield Road, Clapton Park—before January we lived at 9, Allerton Street, Hoxton, where we made the acquaintance of a man named Gray—when we moved to Millfield Road, Gray took part of the house; he told me he was going to be put into a house, 29, Philip Road, Peckham Rye—I know the prisoner by sight by the name of Allen; he is a friend of Gray, I believe; I have seen them in company—Gray told me he was going to move to Peckham Rye, and a van, which I believe belonged to a man named Richardson, was employed to move the furniture—I only know Richardson by sight; I have seen him with Porter and Gray—after Gray left I wrote to his wife at Philip Road, and received a reply—we had no other lodgers; the prisoner never lived there—I believe Gray was employed by Richardson—I do not recollect any letters coming for a man called Porter; but Gray took in letters—I had no servant.
Cross-examined. Gray said that a man named Porter was going to put him into the house; he did not tell me who recommended him—he said you were going to send him to Peckham.
Re-examined. If a letter had come addressed to Porter I should not have known what to make of it.
WILLIAM PRATT . I live at 105, Dalston Lane—previous to May I occupied the ground floor of 175, Sandringham Road for eighteen months—the landlord's name was Richardson—the prisoner was a lodger there in the name of Allen—I cannot tell whether he had the top floor—Richardson occupied the shop and parlour; I saw the prisoner with him on several occasions—no one named Smith lived in the house to my knowledge—Richardson left the house in April, and got away with the greater part of his furniture—I saw a man in possession—the prisoner stopped in the house several days after that, and then left by himself—there was no one in the house but me and my son, Richardson, and a Miss Sinclair—after Richardson and the prisoner left letters came addressed in various names, which I had never heard of before—I do not recollect any letters coming with the name of Smith on them—Smith might have lodged there without my knowledge.
Cross-examined. My mistress and I and our son occupied the basement—I was not at work mangling all day—you said to me several times, "Have you any letters for me?" and I said, "No"—I have no recollection of the name of Smith—several people came there on business—I took in several letters in the name of Allen and Richardson, and many postcards, but I was not always at home.
Re-examined. Richardson was the landlord of the house, not Mr. Smith—the prisoner was a tenant under Richardson.
WILLIAM SILVERTON . I am a carman and contractor,. of 1, Forest Road, Kingsland—on 25th May I purchased a pony and phaeton and another trap of the prisoner for £12 10s.—they were put up by auction by Mr. Miller—the prisoner took me to see them at the furniture repository, Stoke Newington—my son paid £8 10s. to the auctioneer; it became my property, and I took it away—six or eight weeks afterwards I sent it to Aldridge's for sale; it was then, I believe, in the same state.
Cross-examined. The pony was nine or ten years old; I consider I gave a fair value for it—it was allowed to remain in the sale at Miller's; it only fetched a sovereign more, not more than would pay the expenses.
Re-examined. I paid for two traps as well as the pony; I reckoned the traps at £4 each, and the pony at £4 or £5; there was no harness—I never saw the prisoner till the morning Mr. Glbson brought him to my place—I have not sold the pony—my son told me that there was a deposit of £7 on the pony.
ROBERT. GLBSON . I am a livery stable-keeper, of Fouldon Mews, Stoke Newington—in March or April I had a pony belonging to the prisoner in my stable for about a fortnight—he said it was his, and suggested that I should find a purchaser—I sent him to Mr. Miller, the auctioneer.
Cross-examined. There was a four-wheeler, a two-wheeler, and a pony, which was a rig—£12 or £14 was the full value for them, and I would not buy them at that, the pony was not worth more than £6—I would not have such a one on my premises.
MAX MILLER . I am a clerk to James Miller, auctioneer, of Stoke Newington—the prisoner called there on 24th May, and gave his name George Porter Allen, 175, Sandringham Road—he wanted an advance on a pony and dog-cart and harness at Fouldon's Auction Rooms—I saw them there, and advanced him £7 on the pony, dog-cart, and chaise till May 24th, when they were entered for sale—before the sale the prisoner called with a man who he introduced as Silverton, not the witness, but his son; I believe—he said he wanted to withdraw the property from the sale and pay the advance, and did so after some haggling—Mr. Miller would not withdraw it at first because it had been advertised, but afterwards he did, and gave an order to Porter, who gave it to Silverton, and he paid the advance and our charges—after that Silverton said he would put it in the sale, as it had been advertised, and if it fetched a certain profit he should let it go, otherwise he would buy it in and pay 10s. for our commission—it was bought in, but I do not know at what price.
Cross-examined. Silverton bought in the pony, the dog-cart, and the pony-chaise in three different lots. Re-examined. £12 10s. was a fair price; £5 was under the value. WILLIAM THURRELL (Detective Sergeant), I have made inquiries into this case—I saw the prisoner write this (produced)—I have compared it with letter B—they are both written by the same person, and if that is right the prisoner wrote his own reference—I saw him write this pencil writing at Bow Street on the night of 7th August when I arrested him—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I am prepared to answer the charge; I paid £5 on account."
THOMAS LEATHER (Re-examined). There was harness with the pony when I sold it to the prisoner; I paid £8 for it about eighteen months before, and I had only used it when I took my wife out for a drive; it was in very good condition, and the dog-cart was honestly worth £13—the pony was a good serviceable one, I had had him eight or nine years, and he was about two years old when I had him, you could never tire him—he was what is called a rig.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that so far from taking the house in order to get the pony and traps, he did not know that the prosecutor had them till he
agreed to take the house; he complained of the pony pulling up at shopkeepers' doors where he had formerly stayed; and as to the house, he placed a quantity of furniture in it (which he produced a list of), and let Gray live there rent free; and no one was more surprised than he to find that the house had been vacated, the furniture gone, and the door left open. He complained that the police had not taken Gray and Richardson, and denied writing the letter in the name of Smith.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court on 19th March of obtaining tea by false pretences after a previous conviction.— Three Years* Penal Servitude.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
MARGARET RAY . I am a machinist, and live at 26, Remington Street, City Road—I know the prisoner; I met him by appointment on August 21st, at half-past seven, at the Macclesfield Tavern, City Road—we had some drink, which he paid for—we then went to another public-house and had more drink—I had five or six drinks of whisky—when we were leaving the second tavern I had some words with him about a watch he had of mine to get repaired—I said, "Give me my watch"—he said, "You shall have it to-morrow night"—I said, "To-morrow will not do"—he wished to make an appointment for the next night to return my watch—this was in Goswell Road—he struck me with a knife on my left breast; he was under the influence of drink—I aggravated him to do it; it was not serious; it has quite healed—the doctor at the station examined me.
Cross-examined. He had my watch to repair; he said something about my paying for it, and asked my address—I did not see him take out a pencil; he may have, and very probably he took out his pen-knife to sharpen it—I had had a little drink, and was angry and aggravated him; he is a very inoffensive man—I did not strike him, that I can remember—I do not remember all that took place; it was raining—the quarrel lasted some time.
By the COURT. He was not courting me; he is married, and has six children; he is a silversmith—I met him the evening before, and gave him my watch to repair—I had known him before—he said he could get it repaired more reasonably than if I took it to a jeweller.
RICHARD GUST (G 281). I was on duty, and saw the prisoner and prosecutrix under a lamp—they closed towards each other, and it appeared as if blows passed between them—I went to them, and the prosecutrix complained of being stabbed, and charged the prisoner with stabbing her—he said, "I did not stab you"—I took him to the station and found this pocket-knife on him—he was sober, but greatly excited, and he smelt of drink—the prosecutrix was sober, but she smelt of drink—she knew what she was about perfectly well.
GEORGE EUGENE YARROW . I am divisional surgeon of police—on. August 21st I was called to Old Street Police-station, and saw the prosecutrix—she had a punctured wound on the upper part of her left breast half an inch long and half an inch deep—there were corresponding cuts through her jacket, bodice, and chemise—this knife would produce it; it was not dangerous—I dressed it, and have not examined it since.
Cross-examined. It could be caused by her closing towards him with a pen-knife in his hand, if it was held outwards.
Re-examined. It would require some amount of force to go through the clothing, because the point of the knife is off.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
JANE ALMA JACKSON . I am the wife of Charles Jackson, a compositor, at 66, Kynaston Road, Stoke Newington—the prisoner lodged there with her husband and two children—the elder one, named Florence, about five and a half years old, the younger "one, Emily, was three and a half years—in May last the prisoner and her children had influenza; they were ill for a week or more—after that they went away for about three weeks—when they returned the children were better, but the prisoner was not—I saw her on the morning of 22nd July in the house about half-past nine, and the children also—she said nothing to me about going out; when I came home about seven I found they were out—on the 25th July I saw the bodies of the children in a shed at Chingford—I know the prisoner's handwriting—I know this book; I saw the prisoner with it once—this entry, to the best of my belief, is her writing. (Read:"Oh, my dear husband, I cannot live longer; I would face it all if the children were well, but they never will be again. I have prayed for them day and night, but no change has come; we must all die together, for illness means ruin to us all. Ever since we went home there has been a change in everybody to me that I cannot bear. Oh, how I long to be at rest, for this is awful; lay me with my darlings, the sinner and the sinned against, but not on purpose, for no mother ever loved her children more than I have; they were all I have lived for. Good-bye, and may God have mercy on us all.")
Cross-examined. I had lodged there since March—I saw the prisoner every day—she was most kind and affectionate to her children; she always attended to them and nursed them herself—she was greatly distressed when they were attacked with influenza—she went away with them and stayed with them three weeks—on her return she was continually saying that they had got a white tongue of a morning; she would not think they were any better, and would not believe they would ever get better; she said she thought she should never get better herself or the children either, and she thought God was really against her; she suffered very much in her head; she used to complain of a pain creeping up her back to the back of her head; she said she did not know what would become of her children if she should die; she was very desponding—she was a very sober woman—she was continually talking about religion, asking me whether I should like to be a Christian, and talking to her children about Jesus and Heaven, and asking them whether they would
like to go there—her relations to her husband were all that could be desired; I never heard any unpleasantness between them—he is a hatter.
CHARLES WILLIAM HICKS . I am a commercial traveller, of 20, Queen's Grove Road, Chingford—on 22nd July, about midnight, I was returning home, and on passing the Royal Forest Hotel I heard someone moaning from the balcony—I went there, and found the prisoner leaning against one of the posts of the balcony—I asked her what she was doing there—she said she had murdered her two children, and wanted to be taken to the Police-station—she looked very wild—I asked her what she had done it for—she said they had had the influenza and she had had it herself, she thought they would never get better, and that would be the best thing to do with them—I took her to Chingford Police-station—her clothes were very wet—she had no bonnet or hat on; she said she had tried to drown herself, but there was not sufficient water to do it—I repeated to Sergeant Hicks at the station the statement she had made to me.
Cross-examined. She seemed to be in a state of great trouble, and apparently careless of what became of herself.
HENRY HICKS (Sergeant H 33). I am stationed at Chingford-in the early morning of 23rd July I was at the Police-station when the prisoner was brought in by the last witness—he stated in her hearing that he had found her near the hotel, and that she had told him she had drowned her children—I took down her statement—she said her name was Mary Jane Heathcote—I asked her if what she had told Mr. Hicks was true—she said, "Yes"—I cautioned her, and said, "Where are your children?"—she replied, "In the water; I walked into the water with my children and left them there; I tried to drown myself, but the water was not deep enough; I then walked out"—I said, "How old are your children?"—she said, "Five, and three years"—I said, "What are their names?"—she said, "Florrie and Cissy"—I said, "What is your husband's name?"—she said, "Joseph Heathcote, residing at 69, Kynaston Road, Stoke Newington"—I said, "Where are the children?"—she said, "In the water, in Epping Forest"—I said, "Why did you do it?"—she said, "We have all been ill"—she signed that statement—I noticed that her clothing was saturated; everything was wet—it is about seven miles from Kynaston Road to Chingford—the matron found this book.
Cross-examined. It was wet—she seemed very ill and in great distress, thoroughly worn out.
DAVID JONES (Inspector, Chingford). At half-past twelve in the early morning of 23rd July I was called up by the last witness; I went to the Police-station and found the prisoner there in custody—I asked her where her children were—she said, "In a stream in Epping Forest"—I asked her why she had drowned them—she said, "I did not want to go home, as we had all been ill"—I asked her if she had been drinking—she said, "No, I never drink"—I got assistance, and made a search in the neighbourhood, and in about an hour and a half found the dead bodies of two female children floating in a brook on Chingford Plain; the water was about nine inches deep and about four and a half feet wide—I had the bodies brought to the station, and the prisoner was then charged with having murdered them—she made no reply—they were identified by the father the same day—Mrs. Jackson identified them on the 25th at the inquest.
Cross-examined. The brook runs to the foot of the field behind the
hotel; it varies in depth, but in no part is it really deep—the prisoner was dazed and distressed—I examined the brook, and saw no signs of any struggle—I found her hat on the other side of the brook, and these gloves were floating in the water by the side of the children.
JANE RICHARDSON . I am matron at Chingford Police-station—I searched the prisoner there on the morning of 23rd July and found this memorandum-book, which I handed to the inspector—she said to me, "I have drowned my two children"—I said, "Perhaps you have made a mistake and left them at home"—she said, "No, I left them in the water quite dead"—I asked her why she had done it—she said, "Because they had all been so ill with influenza; they could not get well"—I asked her how she had got to Chingford—she said she had walked all the way, carrying the children by turns—I asked her if her husband was kind to her—she said, "No woman could have a better husband. "
Cross-examined. I asked her if he was fond of his children, and she said, "He doats on them"—she said, "I wanted to drown myself, but the water was not deep enough; I wanted to find another water, but it was so dark I could not see"—I remained with her all night, till she was brought to the Court at eleven next day—during the whole of that time she appeared to be thoroughly dazed and worn out—I do not believe she was in her senses; she seemed thoroughly out of her mind—there was no sign of drink upon her; she complained of her head and back—during the night she said, "They were ill so long; I could not bear them to suffer any longer. "
WILLIAM GRAY (N 204). I am stationed at Chingford—I was present when the prisoner was brought in shortly after twelve—while Sergeant Hicks was sending a telegram the prisoner motioned to me that she wanted to speak to me—I went to her, and she made this statement to me, which I took down. (Read: "I took my two children to Epping Forest. I lost the last train. I then took them to a stream in Epping Forest with intention to drown all three of us. My children lay in the water, and I lay on top of them. I found the water too shallow to drown myself, and I walked out and left them in the water.")
GEORGE FREDERICK FULCHER , M.D. I practice at Chingford—I saw the prisoner at the station early in the morning of 23rd July—I first examined her physically—I then asked her if there was anything that troubled her—she said that she had recently suffered from influenza, and that her children had also suffered from that complaint, that they did not get better, that she had taken them into the country to aid their recovery, but it was useless, they did not get better, but just wasted away—she complained of pains in her back and head, and that she had suffered from sleeplessness—in her then physical condition I did not feel justified in pushing my inquiries further—she had a very weak action of the heart, and duplicate action of the valves—apart from that her physical condition was fairly good—the same morning I saw the bodies of the two children—the immediate cause of death was suffocation by drowning—they were well nourished, carefully dressed, and, as far as I can judge, healthy.
Cross-examined. She also said she could not bear to see the children suffering—I formed an opinion as to her mental condition, that she was insane, suffering from typical melancholia—in a woman of her temperament, brooding over the state of her children would cause the mind to give way—her long walk of seven or eight miles would naturally precipitate matters.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of Holloway Gaol—I have kept careful observation of the prisoner since her admission there—she has been under constant watching—when I first saw her she was of unsound mind, suffering from melancholia—although she is now better, I still think that she is not responsible—beyond the melancholia she has had two almost maniacal attacks while in the prison—attacks of acute mania.
GUILTY of the offence charged, but being of unsound mind at the time. —To be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
Before Mr. Recorder.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KEITH FRITH Prosecuted, and MR. TURRELL Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoners PLEADED GUILTY. James to the Second Count, and William [PLEADED GUILTY] to a common assault. JAMES— Two Months' Imprisonment. WILLIAM— To enter into his own recognisances in £20 to keep the peace for six months.
730. FREDERICK MILES (21) , to embezzling 6s. 7½d and other sums, of Albert Blaydon Mansfield, his master, and to a conviction of felony in April, 1888, in the name of William Harvey. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]— Three Months' Hard Labour. And
(731). FREDERICK JOHNSON (17) , to stealing fourteen pocket knives, the property of Arthur Melvill, after a conviction of felony at West Ham, in February last, in the name of Richard Smith.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. A. METCALFE Prosecuted, and MR. SHERWOOD Defended.
ALFRED HENRY PITTARD . I am clerk to the Justices of Brentford—on 11th July I was at Brentford Police-court, when the prisoner swore this information. (This stated that Frederick Hobbs obtained from his assistant, Frederick Stanfield, hosiery value £2 5s. by the false pretences that he was authorised by the informant to have them, applying for a warrant for Hobbs' arrest, as two more charges would be brought against him.)—on that a warrant was issued, and Hobbs was brought up next day, July 15th, and charged before Mr. Mackintosh and Mr. Shaw with obtaining goods from Hamilton by false pretences—Stanfield was examined, and I took a note of his evidence—he said, "I live at 6, Durburtson Terrace, Han well, and I am errand boy to Mr. Hamilton, a hosier. Prisoner came into the shop on Monday evening about seven, and asked for Mr. Hamilton. I said he was out. Prisoner said he was going to meet him
that afternoon, and as he was not there he would take the things Mr. Hamilton said he was to have. He then asked me for six white shirts, two ties, a hat, seven pairs of socks, and nine collars. He choose them from the stock; the value was £2 5s. I gave him the things. I gave him the goods believing his statement that Mr. Hamilton said he was to have them. I told Mr. Hamilton on Tuesday morning. Prisoner said he would settle up with Mr. Hamilton. I knew prisoner before; he used to have things from the shop. I have been told not to give credit,"—this prisoner was then sworn and said, "I know prisoner, and have done so for six months; he has dealt with me before, and paid for them. I did not give prisoner any authority to obtain the goods on Monday evening. I had seen prisoner in the morning, and told him I was going out for the day. On the 14th Stanfield spoke to me; I went to prisoner's lodgings. I said, 'What do you mean by fetching things from my place, getting the things from my boy?' He said, 'I'll settle with you. I said, 'Yes, at Brentford,' He came to the shop afterwards. I told him I was going to get out a warrant for him. He said, "If you talk to me I'll punch you in the b----mouth.s' The boy has orders not to give credit." George Felton was then sworn. (Evidence at page 1135)—on that a remand was ordered till July 18th, when the boy gave evidence again, and said, "Mr. Hamilton told me to say that the prisoner said he had seen Mr. Hamilton and that he was to have the things; what he actually said was, "Is Mr. Hamilton in?"; I said, "No"; and he said, "I want some things;" and he then chose them and he took them away—he said he would settle with Mr. Hamilton. Cross-examined. I told Mr. Hamilton the first story was not true, and he said, "Well, that's what you will have to say at Brentford."—on that the charge was dismissed, and Hobbs took out a warrant.
Cross-examined. Hobbs did not cross-examine Hamilton at the hearing of the charge—I have no recollection of any cross-examination or suggestion that Hamilton was in debt to the present prosecutor.
Re-examined. Hobbs was not present on the first occasion, but he was on the second.
FREDERICK HOBBS . I live at Walton Park Road, Hanwell—I was formerly a grocer's assistant—I am doing nothing now; I have just come from the country—I have known the prisoner six months—I bought things of him before this matter, and we were partners for three or four months, as betting-book-makers—that ceased about three weeks before July 11th, and the result is that he owes me £17—I asked him for it, and he kept promising to pay me—he had given me some money, and he had goods on credit at his shop to about £2 15s. or £3, but not in part payment—I have not paid him for them; I owe him £2 15s., and he owes me £17—on 13th July, about 9 a.m., he came and told me he was going to London; I asked him if he would pay me some money—he said he would pay me £5 or £6 about three o'clock in the afternoon—I did not see him during the afternoon, and I called at his shop between six and seven o'clock and saw Frederick Stanfield—I asked him if Mr. Hamilton was there, he said, "No"—I said I wanted half a dozen shirts, and selected shirts and other articles to the value of £2 5s., and took them away—I did not say to the boy that Mr. Hamilton said I was to take the things, or anything of the kind.
Cross-examined. The suit of clothes I have got on I got from the
defendant on credit, and they have not been paid for—I have a running account with him—I was fourteen years a junior assistant—I had a china-shop eighteen months, and I was a betting agent eight or nine months—Hamilton and I both kept betting-books—it is not true that I am very heavily in debt—there are judgment summonses against me, because when I was in trade my wife was in the hospital—I have been to Ascot and made a few bets—I made so little that I had to travel back to Hanwell without paying my fare—I was not charged—I asked to see the stationmaster—a letter was sent with no name to it—I have been convicted of defrauding the London and South Western Railway Company—that was a mere accident, I took a ticket from Willesden to Hanwell, and travelled on without a ticket, and gave a wrong name and address, and I pleaded guilty to the charge and paid the fine—I believe my betting-book is at home—I rode down to the court in a cab with Stanfield and his mother, but did not talk to him on the way—I had sent his mother down to get him to tell the truth, so that nobody could make him swear falsely again—I do not know that after the first hearing before the Magistrate the boy was discharged for giving me credit; the shop was shut up directly afterwards, a day or two before the prisoner was charged—the boy did not tell me he had been discharged—I have not known him all his life—I did not stand godfather to him—I wanted the goods, to go into a situation, and I should have been in one long ago if it had not been for this case—I said, "Is Mr. Hamilton in?" because I thought he was in and was keeping out of my way in case I should ask him for some money—I know Mr. Glenny; I did not say to him that I had succeeded in doing Mr. Hamilton—I did not say, "I have been and done old Hamilton while he was out; look here," holding up the white shirts.
Re-examined. Stanfield and his mother and I live at Hanwell—it is a long way round to Brentford by train, and the most convenient way is by cab—I knew they were going to the Court—I did not speak to the boy and try to get him to alter his evidence.
FREDERICK STANFIELD . I was in the prisoner's employ as errand boy—on 13th July Hobbs came into the shop, and said, "I want some things; I saw Mr. Hamilton this morning, and he has gone into the City, and I will settle up for the things to-morrow morning"—he took them away—he did not say that Mr. Hamilton said he could have them—Mr. Hamilton did not return till next morning, Tuesday; I then gave him a shilling I had taken for goods sold, and a paper on which I had written down Mr. Hobbs' things; that was all the business I had done that day—I told him that Hobbs had been in and had the goods, and would settle with him on that Tuesday morning—he paid, "You should not have let him have them," and went out and returned in a few minutes and told me to say at Brentford that Hobbs said that Hamilton said he could have the goods—I said "All right," but I said it was not true—he said, "You mind and stick to it"; and he said it again on the way to Brentford—I was sworn at Brentford, and said, "I live at 6, Durburtson Terrace," etc. (As before, see page 1132)—that was not true—I afterwards spoke to my mother about it, and in consequence of what she said I determined to give evidence again on the 18th; I then said, "Mr. Hamilton told me to say," etc. (As before, see page 1132)—what I said on the 18th is true.
Cross-examined. I have known Hobbs a long time; I lived next door to him about three years, and knew him quite well—I was forbidden by the prisoner to give credit once, but as he knew Hobbs I thought he would not mind—when he came back he was angry with me—Hobbs came in twice; he had two sets of goods—he picked the things out the first time about seven o'clock, and said, "Don't forget to put them down"—on the second occasion, five or six minutes afterwards, he had more things, and said he would settle on Tuesday—when he came in the second time he had not got the parcel with him—I was a fortnight in Mr. Hamilton's employment—I was not discharged on the Friday—he gave me a holiday on the Friday, and told me to meet him on Saturday, and I gave my evidence, and he told my mother he should not want me any more—I told my master that Hobbs said he had seen him in the morning, and I thought it was all right—I drove to Brentford in a cab on the Saturday with my mother and Hobbs—I had no conversation with Hobbs about it before that—before I went into the prisoner's employment I was employed by Mr. Squiers; he sold his business.
SARAH STANFIELD . I live at Hanwell—Frederick Stanfield is my son—between July 15th and 18th he told me something—I did not give him any advice—on the 18th I went with him and Hobbs in a cab—Hobbs did not say a word to him about the evidence he was to give that day—I should have heard it if he had.
Cross-examined. The only advice I gave my son was to speak the truth—I knew Mr. Hobbs years ago; I do not know whether he paid for the cab; I did not—I did not go into the Court.
GEORGE FELTON (Detective Sergeant X). On 18th July, about 1.30, I arrested the prisoner on a warrant, which I read to him—he said, "What a young liar; what I told him was to adhere to his statement at Brentford"—that was on the day of the second hearing; he had been in Court all the morning, and heard what the boy said.
Witness for the Defence.
JAMES GLENNY . I manage my father's business, the Duke of York public-house, Hanwell—I know the prisoner and Hobbs—one evening in July Hobbs came there and said, "I have been up to old Hamilton, and got a hat, shirts, and ties, which I think will be all I shall get, out of the £16 he owes me."
GUILTY .— Two Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended Dixon.
CHARLES RAYNER . I am a builder and estate agent—I had charge of 7, 8, and 9, Millais Terrace, Leyton Road, which were not in occupation—there was no caretaker—I received information and kept watch on the houses, with my brother, from 10 a.m. to a quarter to 3 p.m., when I saw a donkey-barrow pull up with two men in it about a hundred yards from where the lead was stolen—I ran round and got into an empty house facing No. 9, and saw the prisoner Brown get over the side wall, and a few minutes afterwards Dixon drove up in a donkey-barrow—Brown brought a sack out with some lead in it, put it on the barrow, and drove away with it—I had seen the sack in the
house in the morning—I ran out, stopped Dixon, and told him I wanted him for stealing the lead, which I identify; I value it at 15s.; I saw it attached to the closets two days before—considerable damage had been done to the property—some lead had been taken previously, which has not been found—I gave Dixon in charge—he said he had not stolen it, he bought it at a house which was going to be pulled down, of the caretaker, I think he said.
ERNEST HAMILTON . I live at 3, Union Terrace, Leytonstone, near Millais Terrace—on 11th August, about 6.30, I saw the two prisoners go to a wall of a corner house by the side of Millais Terrace and get over—I saw a donkey and cart and a sack containing lead pipe in front of the house; the lead shone through a hole in the sack—I communicated with Mr. Rayner the next morning.
Cross-examined. It was broad daylight—three houses are closed up, and three shops out of seven.
FREDERICK RIDGWAY (J 550). On 12th August, about 3.30, I followed the prisoners—Brown was in the custody of Mr. Rayner, and his brother was handed over to me—he said, "Well, governor, we bought the lead"—I took them to the station, where Dixon said, "We bought the lead of a labouring man, who we do not know"—the houses were going to be pulled down.
HARRY BUSTIN (J 318). I took Dixon on 12th August at 2.55; Brown was with him—Mr. Charles Rayner gave him in custody—he was charged at the station, and said, "We did not steal the lead; we bought it of a labourer, who said that the houses were going to be pulled down."
Cross-examined. Several of these shops were shut up—I did not notice that the shop door was battered in and gone—all the houses in the street had shops attached to them.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate, said that they drove up with a donkey cart, and asked to buy old iron, and a labourer sold them this lead for 4s., and promised them more if they came again, which they did, and were taken in custody. GUILTY on the Second Count. (Dixon's mother gave him a good character).— Judgment respited.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted
NOT GUILTY .
(736). GEORGE HENRY ELSEY (25) , To unlawfully obtaining 14s. 3d. from Henry Parkins, and 14s. 3d. from William Frederick Lefever, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted
HENRY JAMES MARTIN . I am a solicitor's clerk, living at 13, Claremont Road, Leyton—on 26th August I left my house securely fastened early in the morning to go to Yarmouth, and returned on 2nd September, when I found the house in the possession of the police—the inside doors were then all safe and had never been opened, I believe—I noticed marks—I lost nothing that I know of.
EDWIN SYDNEY MAYERS . I live at 9, Argyle Terrace, Lancaster Road, Leyton, and am a carpenter—on 31st August I had occasion to go to 13, Claremont Road, while my sister was away—the door was fastened in the usual way, and safe—it was between two and a quarter-past.
MATILDA PITT . I live at 3, Claremont Road—on 31st August I saw some men at the beginning of the afternoon, go into 13, Claremont Road—the prisoner and another man were standing outside in the road about the time—I next saw the prisoner at the Police-court on last Saturday week, and I identified him.
Cross-examined. I did not see you go into the house—four men were standing on the bridge, and you and your companion left the other two, and came and stood outside the door—as soon as the other two men were in the door you and the other man came—you came down the street while the two men were in the door, and you stood outside the door after the others came out; you were not there while the two men were in the door; the two men went one way, and you and the other man went the other—you did not all four go together—there was Borne space between them—you did not go into the doorway, I am sure—another witness was at the door at the same time as I was.
PERCY BLAKE . I live at 2, Claremont Road, Leyton—on the afternoon of 31st August I was in the Claremont Road—I saw the prisoner outside No. 13 in the street with another man—he just entered the gate, and was about an arm's length from the front door—I don't know what he did after that—about half an hour afterwards I saw him at Leyton Policecourt, and identified him—I did not see anybody go up to the door.
THOMAS JORDAN WILLIS . I live at 11, Claremont Road, next door but one to No. 13—on 31st August I saw the prisoner go into No. 13—I could not see him reach the door, because I was kneeling out of the window—a man was with him—when I saw him go into the garden I ran downstairs and told my brother, who put on his coat, tie, and hat, and ran out of the house; I went with him—we saw no one—we went all over the place, and then standing at the Cricket-ground we saw the prisoner, who walked away when he saw us coming—my brother caught hold of him, and I fetched a policeman.
Cross-examined. It took me about six minutes to fetch a policeman and come back—when I came back you were fighting with my brother—I don't know whether you were moving or not; I did not notice you, because I was talking to the policeman coming back.
CHARLES WILLIS . I am the last witness's brother, and live at 11, Claremont Road—on 31st August he said something to me, and I came to the window and just caught sight of the prisoner's back; I was mostly stripped; I put on my things and went out in pursuit—I did not see the prisoner again till I got to the Leyton Cricket-ground—when he saw me he turned round at once to make off, and I went and caught hold of him, and said I should detain him on suspicion, and I told my little brother
to fetch a policeman—the prisoner said, "Leave go of me"—I said, "No"—he struggled violently for a quarter of an hour, and we fought to a standstill—he tried to bite me several times, and tried to slip his coat—I did not know this house was empty.
Cross-examined. I was told the third time you were waiting about.
JAMES DAVIS (J 382). From information received on 31st August I went to outside the County Cricket-ground, Leyton, and saw the prisoner struggling with Charles Willis—I told him I should take him into custody on information received, for breaking and entering 13. Claremont Road—he said, "It was not me; I was only walking round"—I took him to the station, where he was identified.
Cross-examined. I did not say before the Magistrate that I did not see you struggling.
Cross-examined. I found no jemmy on you.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that one witness said he did not go into the doorway; and the other one said he did.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted, and MR. SHERWOOD Defended.
JAMES NEVILLE . I keep the Albion, Bridge Road, Stratford—on the night of the 25th July, about 10.55, I heard a crash of glass in my private bar—I went outside, and the prisoner was pointed out to me as having broken the glass—she was running away; I ran after and caught her—she said, "I did not break the window; a man did"—I took her back, and detained her till a constable arrived, and gave her into custody—it was a plate-glass window that was broken; the damage done was £7.
Cross-examined. The glass was about a quarter-inch thick, and about six and a half feet by three and a half feet—it was altogether smashed—I have understated the value—I have seen the prisoner many times before; I have always refused to serve her because she has always been under the influence of drink when she has been in—she is eccentric in her manner; she is about the same as usual when under the influence of drink.
Re-examined. I had not refused to serve her on this night; she had not been in.
JOSEPH SKEEFE . I am a bootmaker, living at 34, Bridge Road, Stratford, two doors from the Albion—on Saturday, 25th July, about a quarter to eleven, or a few minutes later, I saw the prisoner passing down the Bridge Road; she stopped against Mrs. Gunner's school, and walked into the centre of the road, and up to Mr. Neville's window, and smashed it with her right fist in the centre of the panel—then she took her clothes up (she wears very long dresses) and ran away.
Cross-examined. I knew her before—I did not see her face when she did this, her back was towards me—she smashed the window with her fist—I do not know that she is eccentric—I was the nearest person to her; there was no other man in the street at the time.
HENRY MURKIN (K R 66). On Saturday, 25th July, I was called to this public-house, and saw the prisoner detained by Mr. Neville, and she was given into my custody and taken to the station—she made no answer to the charge—she was drunk, but not incapable.
Cross-examined. Her husband has served twenty-four years in the army, and has since been employed at the Tower; from what I know he is a thoroughly respectable man—the prisoner had a scratch on her right wrist, which was bleeding slightly—she was drunk when charged, and I returned her as being drunk.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never broke the window"
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
740. GEORGE POTTER (22) and FREDERICK SMITH (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing £10, the monies of their master, Charles Phillips; Smith also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1889.— Six Months' Hard Labour. POTTER— Four Months' Hard Labour.
SARAH ANN REED . I am the wife of William Reed, who keeps the Crown and Cushion public-house, Woolwich—on 15th September, about a quarter to one a.m., I went to bed, leaving the premises safely locked up, and the gas out in the beer cellar—the bar door was locked and bolted—next morning, about two, I was awakened by a knocking—I got up, and seeing nothing, returned to bed—I knew the prisoner as a customer; I did not see him at the bar that night.
WILLIAM HENRY REED . I am proprietor of the Crown and Cushion—about eight o'clock on this Sunday morning I came down and found three of the bar drawers open, and a cigar-box in the corner smashed up, and I missed sixty packets of tobacco, two bottles of whisky, and two towels and other property—after this property (produced) was shown me by a constable at the station, I identified it as mine—I saw all the people out of my bar about five minutes past twelve on the Saturday night—I knew the prisoner perfectly well as a customer—I did not see him on that night; I was too busy—I also missed this pair of trousers—my name is on the cigars and on the box.
and drawers were then safe—next morning I came down at a quarter to six—the doors were fastened—I went on with my work in the yard—at half-past seven I called Mr. Reed—he unlocked two bars, and I noticed cigars all over the place—the top bolt of the door leading into the street was undone; the bottom one was in—by pulling the top bolt down you can open the door, and then if you put to the door the lower bolt will drop in of itself—you cannot get in without pulling the top bolt, which was drawn.
Cross-examined. I did not see you on the premises—I was busy.
Cross-examined. The house was shut up at twelve o'clock; I did not see you then.
THOMAS PEGDEN . I work at Woolwich Arsenal—on Sunday morning, 16th Sept., I was between Union Street and Beresford Street, between four and a quarter past four, not a quarter of an hour's walk from the Crown and Cushion, when I saw the prisoner, who asked me if there were any policemen about—I misled him—he was carrying a bundle, and had two boxes of cigars under his arm—I told a policeman what I had seen—at five o'clock I saw another man behind Beresford Street, drinking something out of a bottle, and when he had finished he attempted to hit me with the bottle—the prisoner told me he had come out of a public-house, and that he had left the door open.
Cross-examined. "When I saw you at the Police-station, I said at first it was not you, because I did not hear you speak; I could tell you directly afterwards by your voice, and I told the policeman it was you.
GEORGE COOPER (R 460). I was on duty on Sunday morning in New Road, and met the prisoner at ten minutes past four—I saw he looked bulky, and asked him what he had in his possession—he said, "I have not got much; what I have belongs to me"—the last witness had not spoken to me; he had been to the police-station—I told the prisoner I should take him to the station—I searched him there, and found he was wearing three pairs of trousers; he had a bottle of whisky and several half ounces of tobacco and cigars in each trouser leg; he had loose cigars in his coat pockets, and he had a bundle containing one and a half boxes of cigars and packets of tobacco—the prosecutor identified the bottles and this pair of trousers, which the prisoner was wearing under his others—he said he had it given to him by a mate in the street he had met; he knew him by sight, but did not know who he was.
Cross-examined. You were wearing three pairs of trousers; I told the Magistrate so.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he received the things from another man, not knowing they were stolen.
GUILTY .—He was further indicted for having been convicted of felony in the name of Hugh Connor, on the 19th of May, 1890, at Brentford.
THOMAS HANN . I am a warder at Wandsworth—on 19th May, 1890, I received the prisoner into custody after his conviction, and I had him under my observation and saw him daily for all the time—he is the same man I had in charge for two months for that conviction.
GUILTY**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
GUILTY .— Twelve Month's Hard Labour.
Three years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
JOSEPH TRACEY . I live at 1, Crown Edge Wharf, East Greenwich—on 23rd July I came in at a little after eleven, and bolted the scullery door and the back gate—I went to bed, and my wife afterwards woke me up, hearing a noise in the bedroom; she jumped out of bed before me and brushed up against someone—I got up and went out, but saw nothing, and returned and put my clothes on—I found my gates open, and the door which I had bolted the night before—I missed my watch and chain, two gold rings, a key, and 18s. or 19s.; about £10 altogether.
WILLIAM TRACEY . I am the prosecutor's son—on 21th July I found a pair of boots in the yard, concealed behind some timber, about 6 a.m.—I know the prisoner well; I saw him the previous evening, about 8.30, on Anchor Wharf, and noticed spots of red paint on his boots, and those are the boots I found—when he turned them up I noticed that one had a tip on it and the other had not, and they had spring sides.
MARY ANN TRACEY . I am the prosecutor's wife—on 26th July I went to bed about 12.30—the door between the scullery and kitchen was not fastened—after I was in bed I heard a noise, and thought it was a kitten in the room, but at last I got out of bed and heard the breath of someone who went out and shut the door upon me—I called out, "Who are you? I think you are a thief "—he said, "All right," and went downstairs without any boots on—I fancied I had heard the voice before—it was dark; there was no lamp—he ran downstairs, unbolted the scullery door, and ran out—I found a coat belonging to my grandson in the scullery, marked as if somebody had been lying on it—I was the last person who went to bed—I missed a small brooch.
RICHARD HOWELL (Police Sergeant R). On 24th July the prisoner came, to Westbourne Park Police-station and said, "Do you want to see me?"—I said, "Yes, I am going to arrest you on suspicion of stealing a quantity of jewellery and a purse and about eighteen shillings, belonging to Mr. Duncan, 1, Croydon Wharf"—he said, "Not me; I left Union Wharf last night at 9.30"—I asked him to try on this pair of boots; he put them on, and they appeared to fit him—none of the property has been recovered.
nine yards off—there was a lamp—I knew him previously, but did not speak to him—I saw him distinctly.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not say at the station that I saw you with a pair of boots on.
Witnesses for the Defence.
EMMA SILVESTER . I am the wife of Joseph Silvester, and did live at East Greenwich—the prisoner is my son; he was seventeen years old in August—on the night before he was charged I saw him in bed at 11.30, and he was in bed at one o'clock, because I went into his room to get my baby's milk out of the oven, which I had forgotten, and saw him asleep—I know it was one o'clock, because I took the clock into the room—mine is the next room to his—his brother sleeps in a chair-bedstead close beside him—we are lodgers in the house.
Cross-examined. The last lodger who comes in is supposed to bolt the door; but we are not very particular—it was not bolted that night; any one can come in and out at any time of night—the brothers slept in separate beds, side by side—my daughter was sitting up at needlework, and the father had gone to bed—I remember the night, because this case came on on the Monday—I have seen a man named Castle—he knows my son; if he says he saw him that morning at two o'clock I should not like to say that it is untrue—he had one pair of boots, spring-side ones; he had worn his others out—I cannot say whether the boots produced are his—it may be ten minutes' walk from where we live to Mr. Tracey's—my son has worked on a barge.
ALFRED SILVESTER . I am sixteen years old, and work with my father—I am the prisoner's brother—on the night before he was taken in custody I was in bed first—he came to bed about 11.30, and woke me up; I slept again till one o'clock, when my mother woke me up by coming in—I asked her what time it was; she said, "About one o'clock "—my brother was in bed and asleep then; he got up about 5.30.
Cross-examined. I went to bed about ten; my brother was not in the house then; he woke me by getting into bed at 11.30—my mother was in the room and told me the time—he sleeps on the floor and I sleep on a chair—I could see him—he has been at work at Lewisham—he wore spring-side boots when we went out together—I do not know that there were any particular marks on them.
Prisoner's defence. Mr. Castle could not see me coming out at the back gate, because I went to the Anchor Wharf.
NOT GUILTY .
745. ARTHUR BRINDLEY (18) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining goods by false pretences from Elizabeth Schwerer; also to four indictments for forging and uttering orders for £3 7s. 6d., £10, £12 10s., and £10, with intend to defraud.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Lawrance.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
NATHAN ZUGOVITSKY . I am a tailor, of Arcadia Buildings, Great Dover Street—on 22nd July I went to bed about 12.30, after locking up my premises—I woke up at 8 a m., I went into my workroom and found my window undone, and that two overcoats, two jackets, two pairs of trousers, a rent-book, a key, and a pawn-ticket were gone; they had all been safe the night before—I afterwards saw them all at the Court; these are they—the value of them is £5.
Cross-examined by Prisoner. I did not miss anything else that I know of; you had a handkerchief which did not belong to me.
ERNEST HENRY DRURY (702 City). On 22nd July, at 3 a.m., I saw the prisoner in King William Street; he appeared bulky—I followed him, and at the top of Fish Street Hill I stopped him and asked him what he had got; he replied, "Nothing"—I said, "What is this? opening his coat, and producing from under one arm a pair of trousers and a waistcoat, and from under the other a jacket—he said, "It is my clothing"—I said, "Where did you get them from? "—he said, "I bought them"—I said, "Where? "—he said, "At the bottom of the hill"—I said, "You came across London Bridge"—he said, "No"—I found he was wearing two overcoats, two jackets, one waistcoat, and two pairs of trousers—I said, "Do you usually wear as much clothing as this? "—he said, "Yes, you don't want a fellow to catch cold"—I told him his answers did not satisfy me; he would have to go to the station, and be charged with, the unlawful possession—he replied, "All right"—I took him to the station, where I found on him this rent-book, pawn-ticket, and latch-key—he was wearing no boots, only a pair of socks—the prosecutor afterwards identified the clothing, and the prisoner was discharged and re-arrested on the charge of burglary.
ALBERT BOLTON (Detective M). On 22nd July I went to this house and examined the window of the workroom, and found that the catch had been forced back by some instrument, so that the window could be opened—I afterwards told the prisoner at the Mansion House that he would be re-arrested for committing a burglary at 3, Arcadia Buildings,. Great Dover Street—I said, "Would you like your boots?"—he said, "Yes "—I gave them to him, and he put them on—he afterwards said, "They don't belong to me; I changed my boots away for the clothing"—the boots were found in the place.
Cross-examined. I took the brown paper off the boots and gave them to you.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, denied that he broke into the place, and said he exchanged his boots for the clothes; and in his defence he stated that he had not worn the boots produced while on remand, and that he was wearing prison boots now.
GUILTY **— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
748. ROBEBT HENRY TAYLOR (22) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing parcels containing property of the Postmaster General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
(755). SIDNEY AUKLAND (41) , To burglary in the dwelling-house of Reginald Mowlam Flintoff, and stealing various articles, and to a previous conviction in December, 1885.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. C. F. GILL, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALFE Prosecuted, and MR. DAVIS Defended.
GEORGINA PATTERSON . I live at 2, Dundas Road, Peckham—I am not married, but I have taken that name—my brother is Francis James Akehurst—I was present when he was married to the prisoner on 27th December, 1876—her name was given as Louisa Harriett Warne—I saw my brother on Monday.
Cross-examined. I also saw him about a month before that, and last Christmas—I saw nothing of his wife after the marriage till the case came up—they separated seven months afterwards, and he has been living with another woman, who has five or six children by him.
GEORGE SAMUEL ALLEN . I am a clothier's manager—I lived at 26, Queen's Parade, Battersea, from March 4th to May 9th—the house next door, No. 27, is a tobacconist's, kept by the prisoner—I became acquainted with her last Christmas—when I was under the influence of drink she proposed marriage to me, and we were married on 9th March—this is the certificate (produced)—I am nineteen years old—I was not aware that she was a married woman till about 11th April—after communicating with my father I determined to proceed against her.
Cross-examined. I lost my pocket-book, and entered the chief events of my life in this book (produced)—I do not know whether I put down the date when the prisoner proposed to me—I made business entries in it—the
proposal was made about the middle of January—I did not remain under the influence of drink till the marriage—she gave the instructions to the registrar—I did not go the first time; I did the second—I represented to the registrar that I was twenty-one years old—that was a lie—two months ago I described myself as eighteen; that was a month before my birthday—I had rather a serious quarrel with her after we were married, but it was much previous to that that I threw a water-bottle and other things at her; that was on March 27th—I did no work after I was married to her; I gave up my situation, and lived on means sent me by my friends.
WILLIAM PAINTER (Birmingham Police Inspector). I first knew the prisoner in May, 1883, when I had to make inquiries as to her conduct at the instance of the Queen's Proctor, in consequence of which the decree nisi which had been obtained was rescinded—I have her photograph—I saw her many times after 1883, but never had conversation with her—I saw her in May or June, 1888, in Preedy's wine cellars with two females; I saw that she was talking about me, and asked her if she knew where her husband was, if he was still in the North of England—she said she knew where he was, but it was no business of mine—I saw him on a tram in Munt Street, twelve months ago.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner in her husband's presence—I asked her the question in a spiteful way, to let the girls know she was a married woman, because she was trying to annoy me—I have since ascertained that her husband deserted her; I found him in the North of England; once was at Huddersfield—he was living with Mary McNulty; I have since ascertained that she is the same woman I saw him with in 1883—I am positive as to 1888, but I cannot spy to a month—the prisoner also said, "He has gone to a hot place."
CHARLES PAMPLING . I am a wire drawer, of 6, Laburnum Street, Birmingham—I know Frederick Akehurst; I called at his shop in Coventry Road, Birmingham, in May, 1888, and had business transactions with him—I also called when he was not at home, and saw a woman said to be Mrs. Akehurst—the prisoner went into the shop as I walked out, and when she came out she said, "Do you know Frank Akehurst?"—I said, "Yes, ma'am"—she said, "Where is he?"—I said, "I don't know, ma'am"—she said, "Never mind, the scamp, I shall see him again"—I did not know who she was.
Cross-examined. I had never seen the prisoner before or since till today—Mr. Frank Akehurst first came to me about this.
CORNELIUS COLLINS . I am a tailor's cutter, of 181, King David's Road, Birmingham—I know Mr. and Mrs. Frank Akehurst—that is Mrs. Akehurst in the dock—I met her in High Street, Birmingham, two and a half years ago, and asked her how Frank was, in a bantering manner; she said she aid not know, but she would make it hot for him yet—I saw her again in 1888, and asked her how Frank was; she said, "To hell with Frank"—I also met her in 1885, and had a conversation with her about him.
By the COURT. She never told me he was dead—she knew where he lived; he was in business in Coventry.
GUILTY — Three Days' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, and Mr. TURRELL Defended Mackay.
JOSEPH HENRY BARBER . I am a painter, of 80, Stockwell Road—on Sunday morning, 26th July, I was going home alone along South Lambeth Road, and was accosted by two girls; they caught hold of me by the arms; I pushed them, and told them to go away—one of them called "Jem," and Morris rushed on me from behind a pillar by the railway bridge—we struggled and fell; we got up, he struck me, and we fell again—he whistled, and then four or five more men rushed on me when I was on the ground a second time—I recognise Mackey as one of the other men, and I could recognise the others if I saw them—the three or four men robbed me of 7s. 8d. and a scarf-pin, and kicked me in the side—I cannot say who took the things—I kept hold of Morris till a constable came—I was on the ground—I gave him in charge for assaulting and robbing me—he did not say anything to the charge—the divisional surgeon was sent for to strap my head, as it and my eye were cut open—my hip was kicked, and this finger was about the size of three—I next saw Mackey at the Police-station at twelve p.m. on Thursday, 30th; I identified him without any hesitation among others.
Cross-examined by MR. TURRELL. This was at one o'clock on Sunday morning—Morris came up first, and I struggled with and held him all the time till the constable came; I was struggling with four or five at the finish—as soon as the constable came the other men ran away—I was perfectly sober—I had had some drink through the evening, I knew what I was about; I had been to two public-houses with a friend, and I had gone to a friend's house before closing time, I had no drink there—I went to the station with Morris—I did not go there a second time that night—I did not see Mackey after the Sunday, till the Thursday; if it had been six months I should have known him—there were five men there; all had hats on when they assaulted me—at the station the men had no hats on—I should know Mackey among a thousand; I know his features.
Cross-examined by Morris. This happened in the middle part of the arch—I did not strike you till you struck me, and then I struck you in self-defence—I did not make another hit at you when the constable came—I kept hold of you.
Re-examined. I had not had too much drink—I gave a description of Mackey before his arrest.
DAVID FORD (W 146). Shortly after one on Sunday, 26th July, I heard cries of "Police! "and went to the railway arch, South Lambeth Road; there are a number of pillars there—I saw Barber struggling with Morris, and five or six other men, who were running away as I came up; Barber held Morris and charged him with assaulting and robbing him—Morris said something about Barber striking him first—a description was given me—I next saw Mackey on Thursday, 30th July, at 7.30 p.m., standing outside the Elephant and Castle public-house, Vauxhall—I told him I should take him to the station on suspicion of being concerned with Morris, in custody, for assaulting and robbing Mr. Barber—he said, "I think you have made a mistake, governor—he gave the address, Vauxhall Chambers, Wandsworth Road, a lodging-house—I
went there, and had a conversation with the landlady and the deputy.
Cross-examined by MR. TURRELL. I don't know the landlady's name—I know Mackey lodged there occasionally; I have known him for some time—I was at the station when he was placed with four other men who happened to be passing the station—Morris did not come to the station on the Sunday night after he went there with me; if he did, I did not see him.
Cross-examined by Morris. This happened in the centre arch—I came up by myself; some time after I had taken you, one of the L Division came up—I did not rive him the tip to knock you about.
Re-examined. Barber did not appear to me as if he was drunk; when I got up he was excited and struggling, and smothered with mud and blood; he had had a terrible knocking about—the divisional surgeon was called and dressed his wounds; he had several wounds on his face, and his centre finger was swollen, and he complained of his ribs being kicked.
Witness for Mackey.
SARAH SANTON . I am married, and I am the proprietress of Vauxhall Chambers, where Mackey has lodged for about two years—on the Saturday night before I heard of his arrest he slept in my house; he came in on the Saturday night about 11.45, because I was going to send my little girl for some fish, and I noticed the time; he paid me for two nights.
Cross-examined. I have a deputy, who looks round the beds—it is his business to see who goes in and comes out—he is not here—when Mackey came in he went into the kitchen—I was at my room-door the whole evening till 2.30—I do not go to bed till three—I take note of all the men who come in, because I take all the money—we shut the street door at 1.20, but it is open till 2.30—the bedroom door is locked, so that men cannot get in without paying; we let them in, and they can let themselves out—they can get in and out of the kitchen by the open street door; I see all that come in and go out—I don't remember Ford coming to see me; two plain clothes men came after Mackey's arrest; I could not say if Ford was one of them—I have seen him in Wandsworth Road, and spoken to him—I did not say to the men who came, "I don't know whether he went in or out"—I did not go to the Police-court to give evidence—my lodging-house is three to five minutes' walk from this bridge.
Evidence in Reply.
DAVID FORD (Re-examined). I went to the lodging-house and saw the proprietress on 31st, after coming back from the Police-court; I told her Mackey required her and the deputy to attend the Police-court on the Monday, to prove he was in bed at 11.45; she said, "I saw Mackey at half-past eleven in the passage, but after that I don't know if he went to bed, or where he went; he might have gone out; but I don't know where he went to "—the deputy is not here, nor was he at the Police-court—on Morris was found one shilling in silver and fourpence in coppers—the scarf-pin has not been recovered.
Morris, in his defence, said he was walking under the arch when he accidentally knocked against Barber, who attacked him; that he struck him in self-defence, and he fell on the ground and knocked his head, and the money rolled out of his pocket; and that Mackey was not there.
GUILTY .—MORRIS then PLEADED GUILTY**† to a conviction of felony in January, 1889. MACKEY**†— Ten Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. KYD Prosecuted. During the opening of the case the prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY that he PLEADED GUILTY to larceny from the person, and the JURY thereupon found that verdict. — Six Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOT Defended.
GUILTY.— Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his good character.—Judgment respited.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 19TH, 1891.