CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 16TH, 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.
SESSIONS I. TO VI.
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, November 16th, 1891, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. DAVID EVANS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Alderman of the said City; Sir THOMAS CHAMBERS , Knt., Q.C., Recorder of the said City; STUART KNILL , Esq., EDWARD HART , Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., JOHN DIMSDALE , Esq., and JAMES THOMPSON RITCHIE , 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.
CLARENCE RICHARD HALSE, Esq.
* Also cases removed to this Court under the Order in Council.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EVANS, MAYOR. FIRST 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, November 16th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
HERBERT STANDING . I carry on business at 131, Finsbury Pavement—I am proprietor of the lndiarubber and Gutta Percha Traces Journal—I have other journals—in 1887 I became acquainted with the prisoner—I heard of him through my brother, a dresser in the hospital, where the prisoner was a patient suffering from some disease; I think it was more than accident—at my brother's instance I employed him, as a clerk, at 18s. a week—at first he had a definite salary; afterwards I allowed him a commission on canvassing for advertisements—I have some house property at New Southgate, and in March, 1889, I allowed the prisoner to live in one of the houses at a nominal salary of 7s. 6d. a week; practically he lived rent free—he collected the rents of the other houses, accounting to me for it—from time to time I had to find fault with him in regard to the business he did, also he got into little difficulties that I tad to help him out of—in consequence of that I had to stop his salary, and arranged to pay him only by commission on the work which he actually did—that was at the end of last year—I still allowed him to live in the house at Southgate and collect the rents—from something that came to my knowledge with regard to the Southgate property I communicated with him by letter on 17th September, and in answer I got this telegram, refusing to see me—I had not told him what I wanted to see him about—on the following day I received this letter; it is in his handwriting—in this letter he describes himself as my agent, and gives me a month's notice. (The letter was put in and ready in it he stated that if the prosecutor attempted to take proceedings against him he would expose him)—I took that letter to my solicitors and showed it to them; I did not communicate with the prisoner by letter after that—this
note was handed to me at my office at the meeting of an association of which I am secretary—it said, "Let me know at what time you are disengaged"—I went downstairs at once and saw him at the door—I told him I was busy at this meeting, and could not see him that evening—I then went back to attend to my business—shortly afterwards, that same evening, I received this letter, marked D; it was delivered to me by hand while I was at the meeting. (This was the alleged libel. It stated that the prosecutor had been carrying on a fraudulent business for the last five gears, by misrepresenting the circulation of his paper, and so obtaining "insets" from persons by such false representation, and that if any action was taken against himself he was prepared to do his best to ruin him, professionally and morally)—I have never made any representation as to what the circulation of my paper was—"insets" are advertisements sent to me to be inserted in the paper; we are not in the habit of selling them as waste paper—surplus copies of the journal and insets, when they accumulate, are sold as other things are—Worths have sent us fashion plates for insertion—they were used in the same way—at the last Session, when I was leaving the Court, I saw the prisoner, and he said, "I shall make the place very hot for you here at the next Session.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have been proprietor of this journal since 1885—I never represented the circulation as 3,000; it varies—I refuse to answer what the circulation has been—I made the circulation as large as I could, but I never guaranteed any specific number—it has certainly exceeded a thousand; it is a monthly publication—the order was to insert one of the circulars in each issue—it may be that 2,500 were cleared and sold as waste paper—I think after you left the hospital you took some employment before coming to me—I sent you this letter of 18th September, 1891. (This stated that he had shown the prisoner's letter to his solicitor, who confirmed his opinion that it was a threatening letter which might subject him to penal servitude.)
The prisoner called
LEWIS EDMUND NEWNHAM . I am a printer—I print the Indiarubber Journal, and have done so a little over six years. The prisoner asked the witness how many numbers of the journal he had printed per month for the last eighteen months. Witness. That is a question I decline to answer, I contend that is a trade secret; I am only answerable to the publisher.
The examination was not pursued, and the prisoner called no further evidence.
GUILTY —The Jury added that the justification was not proved.— Four Months' Imprisonment, and to enter into his own recognisances in £50 to keep the peace.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Brignell, and MR. E. BEARD Defended Bussey.
KATE ESCOTT . I am the wife of Thomas Hay Sweet Escott—my present address is 45, South Hill Park, Hampstead—the two prisoners have been in my service—on 29th July last Bussey left my service—at that time I was living at 22, Southwick Street, Paddington—I remained
there till 26th August—at that time Brignell was in my service—about the 14th August I was expecting a letter from Cheltenham with a cheque—I told Brignell that I expected it—this (produced) is the cheque I was expecting—it is drawn by Mrs. Stubbs in my favour—the endorsement is not my writing or written by my authority—it is Bussey's handwriting—in consequence of information I put the matter in the hands of the police—I afterwards saw the prisoners at Paddington Police-station on 26th August—they were charged in my hearing—they said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. My husband is an invalid—at the time the cheque was received I was carrying on business without him—Brignell had been in my service about three years, with the exception of about five months—she left me to get married—I thought so well of her that I wrote and asked her to come back, which she did—Bussey was housemaid—it was not her duty to open the door of a morning, that was Brignell's duty—I know that Bussey was in. the habit of going to the door, but she was not in my service at that time; she was in the habit of visiting at the house, but not in the morning—I was dissatisfied with her coming to the house; I told Brignell that I did not like her to come—I warned her against her; I said she was deceitful—I sometimes went down and had breakfast with Brignell, as she was not very well.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I kept a lodging-house—Brignell might have considered herself in the position of a working housekeeper; she received money from the lodgers, and always brought it to me—about two years ago I lost a £5 note—Bussey was not then in my service, Brignell was.
JAMES VINNICOMB . I am clerk to Mr. Higgins, a fishmonger, of 65, Connaught Street—on 26th August Bussey brought this cheque to me and asked me to change it; our cashier was not in, and I asked her to call again, which she did next day, and the change was given—the cheque was endorsed when she brought it.
THOMAS THOMPSON (Sergeant F). On 16th September, at 3 p.m., I was in the Dynevor Road, Stoke Newington, where I saw Bussey—I said, "Your name is Bussey"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and I caution you as to answering any questions"—I then showed her this cheque, and pointed to the name on the back—she said, "I wrote Kate Escott on it for my friend Mrs. Brignell"—I said, "Where is your friend Mrs. Brignell?"—she said, "At No. 75, Dynevor Road"—we both went there, and in the presence of Brignell Bussey said, "I signed the cheque for you, got the money and paid it to you"—Brignell said nothing—I then told them both that they would be charged with being concerned together in stealing, on or about the 14th of August, from 22, Southwick Street, a cheque for £6, and they would be further charged with forging and uttering it—Brignell said, "I know nothing about it"—Bussey made no reply—I then conveyed them to Paddington Police-station, where they were charged—they made no answer to it.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. It was at my suggestion that Bussey repeated her statement to Brignell—that was not done in order to get evidence against Brignell, it was to verify her statement.
Cross-examined by MR. BEARD. I gave Brignell the opportunity of denying it—she did not deny it—Bussey said, "I signed the cheque, you asked me."
GEORGE CHARLES TUTHILL . I am the husband of Eliza Tuthill, whose deposition was taken before the Magistrate in this case—I produce a medical certificate from a doctor who has attended her, that it would be absolutely dangerous to her life to attend hereto-day; she signed it in my presence; she is confined to her bed, suffering from pneumonia. (The deposition stated that the cheque was drawn by her on 14th August, and enclosed in an envelope directed to Mrs. Escott.)
MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that the case must fail, as the evidence showed that Mr. Escott was not, as alleged in the indictment, the master of Brignell, but that she teas the servant of Mrs. Escott; and further, that the COURT had no power of amending the indictment by changing the ownership. The RECORDER suggested that the ownership might be omitted, and the case treated simply as a common-law larceny. MR. WARBURTON assented to this, and the allegation of servant teas withdrawn.
The prisoners received good characters. BRIGNELL, GUILTY — Four Months' Hard Labour. BUSSEY, NOT GUILTY .
MR. H. C. RICHARDS Prosecuted.
JOHN FREDERICK EDELL . I am a solicitor, of 4, King Street, Cheapside—about 7th July the prisoner came to me and made representations with regard to some estate at Greenhithe; he proposed a mortgage of £5,000—on 16th July, after a report had come, the prisoner called at the office and proposed a loan of £60 to pay a pressing printer's account—I asked him if he had any judgment or anything else registered against him, or any action pending—he said, "No"—prior to that he had said that he was one of the six surveyors of the London School Board, appointed for the Lewisham district—I have ascertained that statement is not true—I would not have lent him any money if I had known there was any judgment against him, or any proceedings pending—it was on the faith of such answers that I drew a cheque for £60—the loan was to be for three or four days—he gave me a cheque, and said he had a bill or cheque that he was going to pay in to his bankers on Saturday morning, but it was not to be entered till Monday—I afterwards had some telegrams and letters asking me to hold it back—the cheque was paid in on the 20th July, and returned on the 21st—my clerk, on my behalf, made inquiries as to whether any judgments were entered against him—I myself searched and found that some were registered against him.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I believe it was on the 2nd July that you called on me in reference to the loan on the Greenhthe property—I had the estate surveyed on 15th July—I wrote you a letter; this is a copy by one of my clerks. (Read: "Dear Sir,—Greenhithe—Referring to your application for a loan, our agent reports £3,000 might be advanced,
subject to inquiries proving satisfactory")—it was on the 16th July that you suggested a loan of £60—for the purposes of that loan we should not make inquiries till a few hours before completing the mortgage—I said I should have to consult my partners—no one was present at our conversation on the next day when I handed you the cheque—I did not say anything about bankruptcy—I asked if any judgments were registered against you, or any proceedings; that is my usual question—when you came next day about eleven I gave you the cheque—I said, "You must give me yours in exchange"—there was no interest charged—there had been attendances between 7th and 16th—I did not regard it in the light of interest—you sent me your cheque for £62 two days afterwards—the day before my cheque was to have been paid I received a telegram from you, asking me to withhold it for a day or two, as you had been disappointed—I did not withhold it; the cheque was returned, and I immediately issued a warrant for the amount; I filed a petition against you—civil proceedings were commenced on 25th July; on 16th September I determined to take criminal proceedings—it was somewhere about 25th August that I found out the judgments against you—I said at the Mansion House that I thought it was just after I lent you the money, but I was mistaken; it was not so, because I was away for my vacation at that time—in the civil proceedings execution was issued on 30th July—one petition in bankruptcy was filed against you on 25th August; that was heard on September 12th—I did not know your true character, but on 15th September Mr. Cawthorn was good enough to give me that information—it was two clear days after the petition that I commenced these criminal proceedings; the petition was heard on the 12th, and I commenced criminal proceedings on the 16th—I applied at the Mansion House for a warrant; they did not grant it, the Lord Mayor thought it should be a summons; after the summons was issued I did not try to settle the matter civilly, friends of yours came to me and asked me if I would settle it—I sent a bill of exchange at Mr. Rees' desire, but I did not offer to withdraw from the prosecution, except on leave of the Court—when I lent you the £60 I did not think it important to have it put in writing, I trust people; you had a very good introduction to me; I have no recollection of your mentioning that you had good security to give—you did not say that you had valued for the School Board, you said you were one of the six surveyors for the Lewisham district.
Re-examined. This letter (produced) I received from the prisoner the day after judgment was obtained, upon which he had been made bankrupt—("Dear Sir,—Enclose—thanks for your cheque; kindly send me copy of your letter.")
CHARLES EDWARD MACE . I am one of the managing clerks to Messrs. Edell and Co.—I have had the conduct of this case,—in consequence of a communication from Mr. Edell I searched for judgments against the prisoner—I found records of two County-court judgments in 1890—two in 1891, two in 1889, the record of an application on 2nd October, 1889, in an action in the Mayor's Court for a committal order, also the record of an application made a few days before 15th July last, upon which there was a committal order for twenty days made against the prisoner in respect of a debt of £4 and costs—I also have an office copy of a judgment on 16th July against him on an order made on
12th June, 1891, for £57, £7 19s. costs, on 16th July, the date of the prisoner calling at the office; I think Mr. Edell returned to London on 15th August—I received information from Mr. Cawthorn and another—there were two adjournments at the Mansion House at the prisoner's request.
ALBERT MAJOR . I am managing clerk to Mr. Pateman, a solicitor, of King William Street—an action was brought against the prisoner in June this year for £57, and judgment was obtained on 16th July, £7 19s. costs—the prisoner was duly served with a writ—I had the conduct of the action.
The prisoner, in his defence, denied that lie had stated to the prosecutor that he was surveyor to the School Board, or that he had represented the estate at Greenhithe as his; what he did state was that his interest teas only that of a surveyor, and that the £60 he wanted to enable him to carry on a publication in which he was interested.
THOMAS HENRY REES . I have known the prisoner some years—I am secretary to the company proposing to purchase a periodical of the prisoner—I was elected as secretary in place of Mr. Cawthorn; prior to that I was one of the directors—there was an agreement with the prisoner that he was to receive £2,000 in cash and £500 besides; that was not considered exorbitant—I considered that was the value of the property—I don't think the bank has stopped the payment of the money, it was the proceedings at the Mansion House—the directors were quite willing to pay him the money for the paper; they were agreeable for the time being to carry it on at their own expense—I have known the prisoner three, four, or five years as an architect—I have never known him do anything dishonourable—I never heard any suspicion until this case.
Cross-examined. We were sued on a matter of the prisoner's for £75, by Mr. Bell, that was with regard to the building ground; we guaranteed the advance, we did not pay it, we arranged it; we have never been asked to pay it—Mr. Bell took the proceedings, but arranged it directly—he was to be solicitor to the company, and it was to be paid by instalments—Mr. Harrison and Mr. Pressland were the directors who guaranteed the amount—Mr. Harrison is my partner—I occupy five offices—I have brought out companies—Mr. Edell sent me a bill of exchange to accept—I did not say that the prisoner had done me out of a lot of money; I said I should lose by him a very large sum of money; I did not say I had been done out of it.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 16th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
on 15th October I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, price a penny; she gave me a shilling—I looked at it, broke it in the tester, gave her half, and kept the other half—she said she had not got a penny to pay with, and I let her go—on 19th October she came again for a glass of ale, and put down a shilling—I said, "You have brought another bad shilling"—she said, "Governor, if you think that is a bad one keep that shilling, and I will bring you a penny; I have not got another penny"—I sent for a constable, and said that she was there on Thursday and gave me a shilling, and I broke it, and had got the half there—she said nothing to that—this broken piece (produced) was the part—kept on the 15th, and this is the coin she brought on the 19th—I handed them to the constable.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not tell the inspector I did not know you.
GEORGE MOODY (H 325). On October 19th I was called to the prosecutor's house; he had a broken coin in his hand and said, "This woman has tendered this over the bar in payment for half a pint of ale, she came last Thursday and passed this over the bar," showing me this broken piece of coin—they are both broken; he said that he broke the first coin in two and let her go—she made no reply, she was only accused of one—I took her to the station, she was charged, and made no reply.
WILLIAM ANDREW GILL . I keep the Gladstone public-house, Boundary Street, Shoreditch—rather more than twelve months ago the prisoner came in for half a pint of ale and gave me a shilling—I said, "I think this is a bad one"—she said, "It does not matter, here is another," but I put it in the tester, bent it double, and handed it back to her—she was there a few minutes longer, there were two constables outside, I called their attention to her, and she was taken before a Magistrate and discharged—I saw her next at the Thames" Police-court, two or three weeks ago, with nine or ten others, and picked her out.
The Prisoner. I certainly was taken in custody and discharged, because I was not the woman. The Witness. Yes, you are.
EDWARD BAGLEY (H R 6). On 22nd October, 1890, I took the prisoner on a charge of uttering at Mr. Gill's—she was taken to the station and searched, and the female searcher handed me a sixpence and four-pence, good money—she gave her name Anne Brown; she was taken before a Magistrate at "Worship Street, and there being only one uttering she was discharged—when I took her she said, "I have not been to the house"; but I saw her come out, and followed her about twenty minutes, and did not lose sight of her.
Prisoner's defence. I own I went in on the 19th with one coin, I did not know it was bad. I know nothing about the other case.
GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted; MR. K. FRITH appeared for Cook, and MR. HUTTON for F. and S. Davis.
JAMES SCOTT (Detective Sergeant G). On 13th October, about 10.15 p.m., I was with Detective Kidd and other officers, all in plain clothes, in King's Cross Road, and saw the two male prisoners outside a public-house, and we watched them; Cook handed something to Davis—I went up to them and said to Cook, "What are you loitering about here for?"—he said, "Can't a man walk along the street?"—I said, "I am a police officer"—I had got hold of him, and another officer too—he commenced to struggle—I said, "I shall arrest you for being a suspected person"—he said, "I have got nothing about me"—I felt in his pockets, but did not take anything from him there—I took him to the station, searched him, and found a purse containing four sovereigns, 2s. 6d. in silver, 5 1/2 d. in bronze, all good, and a latch-key—he gave his address 16, Southampton Street, Clerkenwell—Kidd took Davis; I was present when he was searched at the station, and saw Kidd take a key from him, which he handed to me—I went with other officers to 5, Berkley Street, Battersea—I had followed Davis there the night before—I opened the door with the key found on Davis, and then knocked, and the landlady's daughter came to the door, and from what she said I went up to the first floor, and saw Sarah Davis standing outside the door, partly dressed—I said, "Are you Mrs. Davis?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "We are police officers; your husband is charged at King's Cross with passing counterfeit coin"—she said, "O, my God! this is all old George's doing"—I said, "What rooms do you occupy?"—she said, "This"—she was standing outside the front room first floor—she turned the handle and I went in—it was a sleeping and living room, and there were cooking utensils—I found these two black bags in a cupboard, which was two or three inches open; in one bag I found thirty half-crowns, unfinished, and twenty-nine unfinished florins, and two more counterfeit half-crowns, and in the other bag two galvanic batteries—I said, "How do you account for these?"—she said, "An old man with a dark moustache brought them here"—Chandler took up a skirt which was on the bed, and said, "Is this yours, Mrs. Davis?"—she said, "Yes"—he searched the pocket, and took out a packet unopened and a note—I opened the packet, and found forty counterfeit florins, wrapped separately in tissue paper—this is the note: "Dear Mrs. Hall,—Not able to come this evening, but have sent Fred's wife; will see you to-morrow night with remaining goods. GEORGE"—I read it, and Sarah Davis said, "George gave me that"—she was then taken to the station—I searched further and found a quantity of plaister of Paris, five double moulds for half-crowns and florins in the same cupboard as the bags, also three clamps, twenty-six bars of solder, some ammonia, some acid, two pieces of polished board, a file, some sulphate of copper, a ladle, a spoon, some narrow strips of tissue paper, and a number of other articles—I also found some more counterfeit coin in a clock on the mantel-shelf—Sarah Davis was there when these things were found, but made no remark—on entering the station she saw the other two prisoners, and said, "That is the man I know as old George," looking towards Cook—he could hear that; he said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Cook was charged with feloniously having a mould in his possession—I found no mould on him, but he passed something to Davis about a minute before I arrested him, I did
not search his house—I do not know whether he lived where the two Davis's lived, I have a doubt that he did not sleep there; he was there every day—I believe the Davis's only occupied one room, and alone, I am told—I have reason to believe that Cook slept there.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. This skirt was on a chair beside the bed, not hidden; she was allowed to put it on—she was only partly dressed.
ANDREW KIDD (Detective G). I was with Scott—I took Frederick Davis, and told him the charge was, being a suspected person; he said, "All right"—I searched him at the station, and found among other things a latch-key which I handed to Scott—I also found on him two purses, one contained £1 10s. in gold and 6s. in silver, good money, and this parcel in his coat tail pocket, containing sixty florins and sixty half crowns, all counterfeit, and all separately wrapped in tissue paper—I said, "How do you account for the possession of these?"—he said, "I do not know"—Cook gave his address 60, Southampton Street; I went there and found he lived in the top back room, which I searched, but found nothing relating to this charge—I had seen Cook twice before October 13th, he was with Davis in. Gray's Inn Road, on Saturday and Monday, the 10th and 12th—Inspector Radley asked Davis at the station where he lived; he said he was a stranger in London, and slept in the Borough.
JOHN CHANDLER . I was with Sergeant Scott and Kidd, and took part in the search—I found a woman's skirt there, and said to Sarah Davis, "Is this your skirt?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "I am going to see what is in the pocket"—I found an envelope and a small packet—I did not open the envelope, the writing was on the outside—I gave the packet to Sergeant Scott, and saw him open it; it contained counterfeit coin—I had seen Cook on Saturday, October 10th, talking to Davis in Gray's Inn Road; and on Monday evening, the 12th, in Pentonville Road, where Cook passed a small parcel to Davis, and then they went into a public-house and stayed there five or six minutes—they came out, and I followed Davis to 5, Berkley Street, Battersea—he went in there—it was then about 12.30 p.m.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I was about twenty yards off when the small parcel was passed—it was about 9 p.m., but there was a light—I was on the same side of the road.
Re-examined. It was the Distillery public-house they went into—that is on the opposide of the road to, where I saw the parcel pass—the lamps were alight.
JAMES RADLEY (Police Inspector G). I was at King's Cross Road Station when the prisoners were there on the 13th—I heard Sarah Davis say, "That is the man I know as old George that I told you about," pointing to Cook—Scott said, "That man sitting over there?"—she said, "Yes; that is the man that brought the stuff to my house"—Cook said nothing; he was well within hearing—at the station an envelope with writing was handed to me—I showed it to her and said, "Did Cook give this to you?"—she said, "No, he did not give it to me, but he left it for me on the table"—Cook could hear that.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I heard Davis say at the Police-court that he placed the packet in his wife's pocket.
my mother is landlady of the house—the two Davises lodged there, and at our previous house, 17, Auckland Street, in the name of Burns, for eighteen months—they occupied the first-floor front together, at 3s. 6d. a week—the payments have been kept up—Cook came there to visit them every morning at 9.30—he was pretty regular in his hour of coming, and stayed till 6.30 or 6.45, and Davis always left with him when I was at home—I never knew him to go out without Davis—I never went into their room—it was both a living room and a sleeping room—both the Davises were out at times; they had a key, and always locked the door when they went out—I saw Davis and Cook go out together on the night of the 13th; they were a little late that night—I never heard Cook addressed by any other name by the Davises in his presence.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I do not go out every day—I was there every day except two days when I was out for my mother on business.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. The lodgers always locked their door—we had no other lodgers.
ELIZABETH RUTLEDGE . I am barmaid at Euston Square Railway Station—on 30th June Sarah Davis came to the bar for a glass of stout and a penny bun, which came to 3d.—she gave me a counterfeit florin—I spoke to Detective Gregory, and then gave her in charge of another constable—I bit the coin, and my teeth went into it; it was very light.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. She was charged at the Police-court with uttering the coin, and the Magistrate dismissed the charge.
DONALD ROSE (S 196). I took Sarah Davis on 30th June, on the charge of uttering to Miss Rutledge—she handed me the coin; it was bad—I noticed tooth-marks on it—she was remanded for eight days and discharged, that being the only uttering against her—she gave her name at the station, Sarah Flowers, a prostitute—she said she was a single woman.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—these are five double moulds for florins and half-crowns of different dates—here are 221 coins; there are 90 half-crowns and 131 florins, several of which are unfinished—the majority of them are from these moulds—they are good specimens—several of them have tissue paper between each, and they are rubbed over with lamp-black, which is rubbed off afterwards; here is also a good half-crown and a fragment of another, which have been immersed in acid and very much sweated; they appear to have been used for depositing silver on the counterfeits—here are two galvanic batteries, and a number of articles which can be used in the manufacture of coin, and the teeth sinking into a coin is an infallible test—you can draw a groove along a bad coin with your teeth, but not with a good one.
Frederick Davis's statement before the Magistrate: "All I wish to say is, all my wife did she did with my sanction; I put the packet of counterfeit coin where it was found, in her skirt. "Frederick Davis here stated that he was GUILTY, and the JURY found that verdict. COOK and SARAH DAVIS, GUILTY . FREDERICK DAVIS— Eight Years' Penal Servitude. SARAH DAVIS— Six Months' Hard Labour. COOK— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 17th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. BIRON Defended at the request of the Court.
ANTHONY HESTER . I am a bootmaker, and live at 24, St. John's Terrace, Hackney Road—I let two rooms on the first floor to the prisoner and his wife; the front room was occupied by the children, of whom there were three, the little baby was in the back room, which was occupied by the prisoner and his wife; they were not quiet people, they were rather quarrelsome, I mean they quarrelled between themselves—they were both addicted to drink—on a Saturday night, about three weeks before the 23rd October, I came home about twelve at night, my wife told me something about a disturbance upstairs; she went upstairs, and I went up shortly afterwards—I kept outside the door for some little time; when I went in I saw my wife holding the prisoner by the hand; he had a knife in his hand, something similar to this; I cannot recognise it, I noticed the blade—he called his wife a f----wh----, and said he would kill her—he said several times he would murder her—he used very bad expressions—Mrs. Harvey was very drunk—the prisoner was not drunk; he might have had a drop of drink, but not what I should call drunk—shortly after that I went into the room, and the prisoner cried out to my wife to let him go, because the knife was cutting his hand—she held him very tight—she said she would not let him go unless he would put the knife in his pocket—he seemed to become pacified a little, and he promised he would do so, and he did so, he shut up the knife and put it in his pocket—he said that his wife had a knife too, she was sitting in a chair against the wall—my wife was standing between him and the wife, or rather between the prisoner and me, his wife was next to me—I looked to see whether there was a knife, I could not see one at first, he said she had one; I looked again and there was one, a table knife under her arm, on what I should call a tie—I took it away—after that the prisoner went out—he came in shortly afterwards and was going to bed—I begged him to have no more disturbance, he said he would not, and I heard nothing more that night—on 24th October I came home about twenty minutes past twelve at night—(I don't know whether I saw him during the clay) I went into the kitchen and had supper with my wife and my two boys—shortly after that there was some little disturbance overhead, which was the prisoner's bedroom—it was very slight, as if they were scuffling about, or something of that, they seemed to be going from one room to the other—shortly after the noise became louder, and all of a sudden there was a scream—I got up with the intention of running upstairs; as I was about to do so the prisoner came running down the stairs—he said, "Mr. Hester, I have done it; I have stabbed her"—I do not remember whether he said anything else at that time, or whether he showed me the knife then, or whether it was when I came downstairs—I ran upstairs, I stopped about three or four stairs from the top, the poor woman was on the landing—she only had on her chemise—she was streaming all over with blood—the landing
was covered with blood, and ran down the stairs and down her legs, and the whole of her chemise was covered with blood—the prisoner was then at the bottom of the stairs—he was near enough to hear what his wife said—she said, "Look, Mr. Hester, what he has done; he has stabbed me"—my wife was close behind me—I told her to look after the deceased, and I called my boys to run for a doctor and the police—I then went downstairs—the prisoner was still there—I took him by the arms and took him out, intending to take him to the station—I said, "You silly man, whatever made you do such a thing?"—he said, "I done it to protect myself"—he gave me this knife, either then or before, and said, "Here is the knife—a policeman came, and he was taken in charge—I told the constable I would give him in charge for stabbing his wife, and he said to the constable, "Yes, I did stab my wife."
Cross-examined. The prisoner and his wife lodged with us about four months—I believe they came on 27th June—I should hardly like to say whether the wife was rather the more given to drink—she would go out and leave the children without anyone to look after them while the husband was at work—as to that I can only go by what my wife told me, as I am out on business—on the occasion of the quarrel, three weeks before this, when my wife had hold of the prisoner's hand, I could see that the knife was open, I could see the blade, and he screamed because it was cutting his hand—he was excited with dread, I should say—I could not say whether it was with drink—he was agitated; I was too much upset to take much notice of him—he said, "I give myself in charge to you."
SARAH HESTER . I am the wife of the last witness—the prisoner and his wife lived very unhappily—about three weeks before 24th October the wife came home about twelve, or a little after, very much the worse for drink; I went up to her room when she came in—the prisoner came into the room shortly after; he had been drinking—he asked his wife where she had been—she was crying very much, and said she had been to her brother's, and then she said she had not—he asked her again where she had been, and he gave her a blow in the face with his fist, which knocked her down on the boards, and making use of bad language, he said he would kill her—he took the knife out of his pocket and opened it, and as he did so I took his hand and said, "Don't you do such a thing as that"—this is the knife—I held his hand, with the knife in it, and he said, "Mind, or you will cut my hand; leave go"—I said, "I will leave go if you will shut the knife up"—he then shut it up and put it away, and shortly after he went out—on the 24th October I saw Mrs. Harvey about half-past two in the afternoon—she was then sober; that was before she went out to meet her husband—the prisoner came in about half-past four—he went upstairs, and then he was not drunk; he had had a little, but not anything to speak of—he asked me if I had seen his wife—I said, "No, I thought she had gone out to meet you"—he said they had met at the Bull and Pump in Shoreditch, and he gave her a drink and gave her 8s. 6d., and he saw her go into Rose's, the tea grocer's, to buy some grocery, and he said if she was not at home to have his tea when he came home he would kill her—it was not ready, she had not come home—she came home about half-past six; she brought some potatoes and vegetables—she was not sober, she had been drinking, but was not drunk, she
knew what she was saying and doing—the prisoner was there when she came in—he asked her where she had been, she refused to tell him—he used bad talk to her, then she put her grocery and things down and caught him by the scarf on his neck and said, "I am your wife, and you are the father of my children"—then he took his pocket knife out and cut the scarf with it; that was in order to get free—at the same time he gave her a back-handed blow in the mouth, which caused it to bleed, and then he went out—she did not go out, only once to get something to eat, for a very short time, she came back again—after that she was talking with me nearly a quarter of an hour—about nine she went upstairs to her room—about eleven I went up, hearing one of the children cry, and I found the deceased lying on the floor with the children, fast asleep—about twenty minutes past twelve I heard the prisoner come in—as he came in he said to me, "Is she in?"—I said she was upstairs, and I believed she was in bed; he had been drinking—a few minutes afterwards I heard a sort of scuffling in the little bedroom, then it sounded as if they went from the little room into the other room, where the children were—I heard them speaking, but nothing for me to be alarmed at—the next thing I heard was he ran downstairs and said he had stabbed his wife, and he said to my husband, "I give myself into your hands, and here is the knife"—I immediately went upstairs on my husband's heels, and found the deceased in the middle room, bleeding very much from a wound in the breast—she made a statement to me—I stayed with her till the police and the doctor came—the poker was in its place in the fender.
Cross-examined. I did not notice whether there was an iron out of the bedstead about the room—I believe the prisoner was a hard-working man when sober—the children were neglected when the wife stopped out—she did not make it a practice to stop out—I had only seen her very little under the influence of drink—I was present three weeks before this, when the prisoner took out the knife and opened it—directly I saw him open it I caught hold of his hand—on the 25th, when he came home at 4.30, he said, "If you don't come home I will kill you"—I have not stated that before; I did not state it before the Coroner or the Magistrate—I have called it to mind since—he was put out and annoyed when he said it, because his tea was not ready—on the Saturday night he had put the children to bed—she did not quarrel when she came home—it was not a push that he gave her; it was a blow in the mouth, and he meant it—the blow was given while she had hold of his scarf—he said nothing, he simply went out.
By the JURY. She was a big woman, but not such a powerful one—I should think he could have freed himself from her without cutting the scarf.
DREWITT OLIVER . I am a divisional surgeon of police—on the early morning of 25th October, about twenty minutes past one, I was called to 24, St. John's Terrace—I there saw the deceased woman—my assistant had preceded me; I found him there—the deceased was lying on her back on the ground, with her head towards the ante-room, and her feet towards the door—she was faint and collapsed, and suffering severely from loss of blood—there was a wound in the upper part of the left breast, from which blood had flown very freely—she was lying in a largo pool of blood—
there was another pool of blood near the door, and a third smaller pool of blood near the table in the centre of the room—we did all we could for her in the way of treatment, and when she had sufficiently rallied my assistant accompanied her to the infirmary on the ambulance—before she was removed to the infirmary she made a statement to me, which I took down from her lips in writing—before I did so she said, "Doctor, am I dying?"—I replied, "You are in a very critical condition"—she then said, "Doctor, I know I am dying"—I then said, "How did it happen?"—she was faint, but conscious—she was not rambling in her mind at all. By the COURT. I could not say positively that she was dying at the time—I thought most likely she would die—I thought if she died at all it would probably be within a few hours—I thought it was just possible she might live, but very improbable—I had not spoken to her before she put the question, "Am I dying?"—I had been with her about ten minutes—she uttered those words in a somewhat feeble tone; she appeared to realise her serious condition—I should not like to say that she really thought she was at the point of death.
After some argument and a reference to the case of Reg. v. Hubbard, 14 Cox, Reg. v. Jenkins, and Reg. v. Morby, Sessions Paper. vol. 95, p. 545, MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS admitted the evidence, which was read as follows: "I got out of bed to come in here; he threatened me with a knife three times in the little room while I was in bed; but he did not "strike me while in bed. When I came in here to the children he came straight up to me and stabbed me in the breast."—Mr. Hester gave me the knife that has been produced—the wound must have been caused by a great deal of force.
DONALD M'KAY FORBES . I am medical superintendent of the Shoreditch Infirmary—on 25th October, about three in the morning, the deceased was admitted into the infirmary, suffering from a punctured wound in the left side of the breast; there had been considerable hemorrhage, but it had stopped for the time—about one in the afternoon it broke out again, and she died at twenty minutes past three on the Sunday afternoon—when I first saw her there was a very remote chance for her, the only chance was if the bleeding did not recur, that is a very critical matter, depending on the least movements of the patient—the hemorrhage was the direct cause of death—I made a post-mortem examination—the direction of the wound was slightly upwards, backwards and outwards, a little over two inches deep; there were recent bruises on the outside of the right arm, and on the inside there was an abrasion on the right knuckle, outside—on the corner of the upper lip on the right side of the face there was a recent bruise—she was about four months' pregnant.
Cross-examined. Being intemperate would make it more likely she would sink from the attack—hemorrhage will kill the most sober person equally well as a drunkard.
THOMAS HASKETT (G 272). About twenty minutes to one on the morning of 24th October Mr. Hester gave the prisoner into my charge; he said, "This man has stabbed his wife"—the prisoner replied, "Yes, I have stabbed my wife"—on the way to the station he said, "I gave my wife 8s. 6d. in the Bull and Pump public-house, Shoreditch, to go and buy the children some food, and when I came home I found she had
bloomed the lot; I said, "What have you done with the money that I gave you?"—she said, "I have----it"—she took the iron off the bed to strike me with, and caught me by the scarf, I had to cut the scarf with my knife to get free from her, I went out to save a row, and when I came home again and was sharpening my pencil to make up my work, my wife took the poker to strike me on the head, and I struck her with the knife, and when I saw the blood I cave myself up to my landlord; I am very sorry; I gave the knife to my landlord"—I found a short piece of pencil on him, the inspector has it; it appeared rather fresh at the time; this is it; it appears similar to what it was when I found it on him.
PATRICK LEONARD (Police Inspector G). The prisoner was brought to the station by the last witness, and was charged with cutting and wounding his wife—he said, "I never wilfully. did it; she would have battered my brains in with the poker if I had not defended myself"—at half-past four that afternoon I received news that the woman was dead, and he was then charged with her murder—then he said, "She would have smashed my brains in; I had my knife in my right hand cleaning out my pipe; we had some words; she made an attempt to get hold of the paraffin lamp, I stopped her; she then got hold of the poker and said, 'I will strike you you s----'"—when he was brought to the station he had been drinking, but was sober, and understood perfectly well what he said—about a quarter to two in the early morning of the 25th I went to the house—I examined the bedstead, it was an iron one, the top rail was missing; I found it in the kitchen, their front room, standing between the fireplace and the window—I saw this other pencil picked up by Sergeant Osborn from the fireplace; it had been newly sharpened—I found this pipe behind an "ornament on the chimneypiece—it had not been recently cleaned out; ashes and some tobacco was in it still—he was searched at the station; no pipe was found on him—I saw poker in the fireplace in the front room.
Cross-examined. The pencil was found in the kitchen, where the two children slept.
GUILTY of Manslaughter — Twenty Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 17th, and Wednesday, November 18th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
10. RICHARD HENRY TOMKINS (18) , to stealing post letters containing postal orders and stamps, the property of H.M. Postmaster-General.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
13. JOHN NASH ** (20) , to stealing a watch and chain of William Richards, from his person, having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell on 6th April, 1891.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
14. THOMAS MORTON SCOTT JONES (33) , to feloniously demanding £150; also to attempting to obtain £150 by false pretences; also to forging and uttering a request for the payment of £150; also to attempting to obtain £100 by false pretences; also to endeavouring to obtain the same by a forged instrument; also to attempting to obtain an order for the payment of £100 from the Answers Co.— One Month's Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
16. CLEMENT CHICHESTER (38) , To forging and uttering a receipt for the delivery of biscuits, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a quantity of biscuits, value 6s., the property of Amedee Maxted.— Three Days' Imprisonment. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(17) ELIZABETH JANE TURNER (23) and LOUISA GLOVER (27) , to stealing a quilt and other articles, the goods of William Jameson, her master; also to stealing a book, the goods of Edith Maud Gates, Glover having been convicted of felony at Clerkenwell, on May 4th, 1891. TURNER— Three Months' Hard Labour. GLOVER— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and A. GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. BURNEY and LAWLESS Defended.
GEORGE COLOMB . I am manager to Stauffer, Sons and Co., watch manufacturers, of 15, Charterhouse Street—I know a man named Broske—I saw him first in June; he came alone, and wanted to see some watches—I showed him some, he took a note of the price, and asked what terms I would give him—I said that depended on the references, but generally we preferred cash—he said he would call again—he came again, not alone, but I do not know who was with him—he gave me as references Messrs. Venables Brothers, and Hudson and Towell—he came again alone, and we told him we had taken the inquiries of his references and would give him some credit—he showed me invoices to show that he was dealing in watches—he called again, still in June, to select the watches, and the prisoner was with him—he said, "This is a friend who comes with me to help me select the goods"—I showed them some watches; they said that the price was too high—Broski asked whether we had any job lots; I showed him some, and he gave an order for about £350 worth—we agreed to take one-third in cash, one-sixth in thirty days, a fourth in ninety days, and a fourth in four months—the prisoner was present during the whole of the interview—I afterwards went with the goods, and was paid one third by a cheque for £97 10s. by some man at Broski's address—I took £2 10s. discount off, and received these bills (produced) dated June 19th—the cheque was paid into the bank next day and came back the same day—on Monday, the 22nd, I was on my way to Broski's place and met him—I asked him why the cheque had not been paid—he said it was owing to some mistake in the signature, and gave me a £100 note, which I handed over the counter to the bank manager, and he gave me the change and the cheque—Broski frequently called afterwards for watches, but I put him off, and did not give him any more—the first bill was for £76, and came due on 22nd July—it was presented and met; and on the same day Broski and the prisoner called
again and wanted more goods on credit—I said, "There is still £175 coming due, and I do not think we should like to increase the credit"—they said that a bill had just been met—Broski afterwards showed me the contract (produced) with the Waterbury Watch Co., but the prisoner was not present then—I asked Broski where the goods went—he said part of them he sold on weekly instalments, and others he had shipped to Roumania—we agreed to let him have a little more credit, not over £200; one-third in cash, one-third at one month, and the rest at two months—the goods were delivered—on 27th July I received this cheque for £53 4s.; he asked me not to present it that day—we presented it next day, and it was returned unpaid—we then went to his place, but did not see him—I did not see him again, and did not see the prisoner again till he was in custody—I received this letter (produced) on 30th July; it is from Broski, asking for a lady's gold watch—I did not supply it—altogether the amount of goods obtained by Broski is about £550, of which £174 has been paid—there is a further bill for goods obtained between the two transactions.
Cross-examined. They came once or twice together before we decided to let Broski have the watches—I looked to Broski for payment—I could understand what he said; I spoke English to him—I understood that the prisoner was there to help him select the watches, because Broski did not know about watches, and not to help him in his English—I took the first lot of watches, and Solomon Levy, a witness for the prosecution, gave me the cheque—he did not say that he was Broski's son; but I asked for Mr. Broski, and he said, "My father is out, but he left me to settle everything"—the prisoner was not there when Broski showed me the contract of the Waterbury Company, and I agreed to let him have the two lots of goods—after the last cheque was returned I went to Broski's place in the Commercial Road, and there saw Levy, who I had seen before.
Re-examined. Broski was a tailor, and we could not make out how he should have anything to do with watches to such an extent—I did not take any notice of the references, but the invoices from other watch-makers gave me confidence; it proved that he had a market for witches—the prisoner was there then; but I don't believe he came after he selected the second lot; that was a few days before the production of the contract, within a week.
By MR. BURNIE. When we saw he meant business, then we went to the references.
By the COURT. I said, "You are a tailor; why do you want so many watches?" he said, "You cannot judge by appearances; I do not look up to much, but I have a market for watches"—his answers satisfied me; the Waterbury contract was afterwards.
FRANK DAY . I am clerk to Wheeler Brothers, clock merchants, ✗Tudor Street, Blackfriars—about July 10th or 11th I first saw Broski with a man named Palmer—he wanted to do business with me, and gave me as references Venables and Hudson and Towell—he bought woollen goods on the 11th to the amount of £188—he was to pay half cash and the balance in one or two months—they were to be sent to 231, Commercial Road; I went there on the 13th, and later in the day I saw Levy, I think it was—he gave me this cheque for £91 10s., and some bills which Broski accepted; he was there—I paid the cheque into the bank,
and it was returned dishonoured on 14th July—I went to see Broski that day—he said that the cheque had been presented at the bankers too soon, and it must be re-presented; it was presented again and returned on 16th July—I went with it that day to the Commercial Road, and saw the prisoner behind the counter in his shirt sleeves—Broski was not there—I paid I had called respecting a cheque for £91 10s. which was dishonoured—he said, "Oh, I know all about that; Broski has been out all day trying to collect money, and has been unsuccessful; there is nothing to fear; he is perfectly safe, and you are sure to receive your money in a day or two"—I said, "That will not satisfy me, I must see Broski; I am instructed not to leave without the money"—the prisoner went into a side room, and Broski came out and said something to the prisoner in a foreign language; he then went into the back room again, and came out with a letter and handed it to the prisoner, who read it and gave it to me—this is it: "231, Commercial Road. I am very much engaged to-day; will see you without fail to-morrow at 9.30, and arrange matters.—Per L. BROSKI, L. B."—next day Broski and the prisoner called at my place—the prisoner said, "Broski is an ignorant man, and I have come to explain the matter; I am a friend of hi*, and have known him a number pf years; I know him to be a straightforward man and perfectly safe; the money for your cheque will be paid in a day or two"—they left a bill for £148 18s. as security for the cheque, but they both said that they wanted the balance between the cheque and the bill, in goods—I told them I did not see my way to doing that under the circumstances, and they left—I wrote and telegraphed to Broski after that, and received in reply a telegram and this letter, in the same hand as the last: "Gentlemen,—I promised to call on you yesterday, but was not successful in receiving the money, and must ask you to give me a further extension of time till Monday next"—I have never received a farthing—on 29th July I went again, but did not see Broski; I never saw him again, nor did I see the prisoner till he was in custody—Broski showed me some money when I went to get the cheque.
Cross-examined. I cannot say how much he showed me; there were notes—when I went on 29th July I saw Solomon Levy—it was Broski who paid the bill for £148 18s. as security for the cheque—we trusted Broski, the transactions were with him from beginning to end—the prisoner acted more as interpreter than anything else—Broski spoke English imperfectly, but he could be understood—Palmer did not come to interpret on the first occasion, he introduced Broski—I have called on Palmer in Aldgate—he has never been arrested.
Re-examined. When I went there I saw the prisoner in his shirt sleeves, and he gave me this assurance about Broski; I believed him.
WILLIAM EDWARD PINDER . I am secretary to the Waterbury Watch Company, Snow Hill—on 10th July the prisoner and Broski called to inquire our export terms for watches; the prisoner spoke, and explained that he came to interpret for Broski, as he spoke English very badly—I did not have his name, but I had Broski's card—Broski understood all that was said, and if he wanted to say anything he did so—the prisoner asked if we would give him credit; I said that our terms were cash; they said if we gave them good references would we give them Some credit; I said if the references were satisfactory we might, but we
could only supply goods to those parts of the world where we had as agents—they mentioned Roumania, Bulgaria and Servia, and said they were going to export there—I said we were open for those countries—the prisoner said that Broski was a man of considerable means, and had property in Odessa, and was doing a considerable business in watches a large export trade, and produced a number of invoices up to £600 or £700—they gave the names of Venables Brothers, and Hudson and Towell, as references—I said I would make inquiries, and if the references were satisfactory I would write further, and they left—I wrote a letter the same night, in consequence of which they called next day, July 11th, and I introduced them to Mr. Rankin, the manager of the company, who showed them samples of watches—I said that if they were supplied with watches they must sign a contract to ship to those countries; but it was understood that Broski was the man who was buying—our offer was accepted on those terms, and the prisoner selected the watches—they were delivered at 231, Commercial Road, the address given by Broski—I was cognisant of the subsequent proceedings, but the negotiations were conducted by Mr. Palmer—after parting with the goods on July 5th I had no notion of their being sold outright to the prisoner in England, it was directly contrary to the agreement—that applies to all the parcels—I had no notion that the consignment I sold was sold within a quarter of its value within forty-eight hours, but I discovered it through Mr. Freeman, who purchased some of them.
Cross-examined. My contract was with Broski exclusively; I did not know the prisoner's name or address; I considered that he was acting as Broski'8 mouthpiece or interpreter—I had sent somebody to see the references—about July 28th I found out that the goods were sold in Hatton Garden, and issued a writ against Broski for damages, for the breach of his agreement not to sell the watches in this country, but found that Broski had disappeared—I afterwards applied before Mr. Dickenson for a warrant against the prisoner, but it was held over, and subsequently Mr. Montagu Williams granted a warrant—Mr. Gill was present, but he left the Court, I believe, thinking the case was not coming on, and the solicitor asked that it might be allowed to stand over, which was allowed.
Re-examined. In the first instance I was inclined to treat the matter as a breach of contract, we had no suspicion that there was any fraud—Broski has absconded—I believed the prisoner's statement, or Broski would not have had the goods.
Re-examined. It was Solomon Levy who gave me the information; he was called as a witness before the Magistrate.
CHARLES ROSS . I am in the employ of the Waterbury Watch Company—on 4th July I delivered four cases of their watches at 231, Commercial Road; Broski signed the receipt—they were the watches contained in the invoice of July 14.
HENRY RANKEN . I am manager of the Waterbury Watch Company—on 11th July the prisoner and Broski called, and Mr. Pinder introduced them to me—the prisoner said in Broski's hearing that Broski was dealing largely in watches, exporting them to the Balkan States, and that he had relations in Odessa—they asked for samples, and the prisoner selected 408 watches, value £254 14s.—this (produced)
is the memorandum—it states, "To be divided in two equal parcels"—the prisoner said that they were going to two different parts, and I believed it—the prisoner said that as the money was coming from abroad it would be necessary to have at least two months' credit—I believed that, and agreed to divide the amount into two bills, half at one month and half at two months—the prisoner said that; Broski was a perfectly responsible man, and had property at Odessa, and could also do business there—the contract was to be signed on condition that they were to be exported to the Balkan States; Broski signed it, and they left—the goods were sent to the Commercial Road on July 15th, with an invoice of July 14th, on the terms of the contract, that they were to be exported abroad; I had no notion that they were to be transferred to the prisoner, to be disposed of as he pleased, or we should never have parted with them—on 17th July Broski came again and said that if he could secure the whole agency of a place he named, he was willing to bind himself to take £5,000 worth of watches in twelve months, and that he had sent the goods already delivered abroad; I believed his statement—I had another contract drawn up, which he signed, in which he agreed to take £5,000 worth of watches in twelve months, on condition of our appointing him sole agent in Bulgaria and Roumelia—he said he wanted some samples for Odessa, and selected samples for Roumania price £9 19s. 6d.—he came again on the 21st, and gave another order for goods amounting to £114 1s. 6d., on the same terms—I had no notion that those goods were being passed away to the prisoner—on 22nd July he came again, and complained that three dozen watches had not been delivered which he had ordered—I sent them, they amounted to £37 7s., and were supplied on the terms of the contract—I had no notion of their being pledged within ten days—on 24th July he called again, and proposed a further supply, value £200; he was £400 in my debt then, and I was unwilling to increase the amount above £500—I told him some cash must be forthcoming, or I should have to submit the matter to my directors, and I dictated a letter to him, stating that there must be some cash before I parted with more goods—he came on 25th July, and said that the goods were to go to Roumania that night, and he should be seriously compromised unless we sent them that night, and he would give us £100 in cash on delivery, for which we would allow him 5 per cent., and he would give us a further order for £600 or £700 the following Wednesday—I believed that statement, and had the goods sent to him by Mr. Elliott, who brought back a cheque for £95, which we paid to our bankers on Monday, the 27th—it is dated the 27th, it was not returned to us—it came to my knowledge on 28th July that the goods had been sold to Mr. Freeman, of Hatton Garden, at about one-third their invoice value—as I was going to Mr. Freeman's office I met Broski, and asked him to wait till I returned, and then accused him of disposing of the watches in this country; he denied it, and said he had entrusted them to a man at Dalston, whose address he could not give, though he could go to his house, who was to take thorn to Roumania; and he thought he had robbed him, and he should lose £200; he would produce shipping receipts for the previous parcels on the following day at 10.30—he did not keep the appointment, but he wired us that he would come at 12.30,
but did not, and I never saw him again—a writ was issued, but subsequent information was forthcoming, and we preferred this charge.
Cross-examined. The only occasion I saw the prisoner was 11th July, but I did not know his name and address; the agreement was with Broski—I looked on what he said as the representative of Broski—the next time Broski came alone, I had communicated with the references, and it was in consequence of their being satisfactory that I parted with the goods, and also the representation as to the part they were going to.
Re-examined. If I had believed the goods were going to be disposed of in England by Broski to the prisoner, I would not have parted with them.
ERNEST CHANT . I am in the employ of the Waterbury Watch Company—on 17th July I took a parcel of one case of watches, and on 21st July another parcel, two cases, and delivered them at 231, Commercial Road to Broski—I think he signed the first time.
HUGO WARNER . I have been manager of the Whitby Jet Association, 17, Hatton Garden, four or five years—my brother Emanuel is the secretary, and my brother Richard is a director—on 27th July we bought 360 watches of the Waterbury Company for £100 net, and 206 watches, 288 medals at 6s., £86 8s.; 36 at 9s. 4d., £16 16s.; and 36 more at 9s. 4d., £16 16s.—I was present when they were sold, and saw the samples—I did not buy the watches—Mr. Barnard came to my office and asked if I wanted to buy some watches—I said we deal in jewellery, but I have a neighbour, Mr. Freeman, who might buy them; he went there, Mr. Freeman gave him an order, and I asked him for my commission, and received it—the watches were bought for £100, and sold for £105 17s.—I had no notion that those very watches had been invoiced the same day at £150—they were bought by a man named Barnard, who is not here; I saw him two or three days ago—I have known him twenty-five years—he is about forty years old—he brought no invoice with him, he simply brought a pattern—I did not ask where he got them—he made out this invoice (produced)—I made no inquiry where he got them—I understood he was an agent, or I should not have entertained the matter—Sidney Morris Benjamin was present.
SIDNEY MORRIS BENJAMIN . I am a clerk of the Whitby Jet Association—I was present on 27th July when these goods were offered—I entered the transaction in the books, "By goods £120, discount 12 1/2, commission £5, £100 given"—the commission was to Freeman, who is a neighbour—he bought them the same day—I was called before the Magistrates, and so was Mr. Warner.
HENRY CHARLES FREEMAN . I am a watch importer and silversmith, of 31, Hatton Garden—on 27th July I bought some watches of the Whitby Jet Association, Hatton Garden, and paid £105 17s. for them—this is the invoice—I saw Mr. Rankin next day—I did not show him the watches—
he saw them at my place the same day—I called to see if he would buy. them.
H. RANKIN (Re-examined). On 28th July I saw a number of watches at Mr. Freeman's—I recognised 288 nickel watches which I had sold to Broski at 7s. 6d. and 12s. on 25th July; there were two parcels each of thirty-six silver watches—I did not look at all the others, as they were in cases, but I believe they were brought to my premises.
JOHN HOLE . I am a postman, of 5, Appleby Road, Dalston—I have had to deliver letters at 5, Ashwin Street, Dalston, for eight years in two different names, Heidenreech and Barnard—I have seen the prisoner there and Barnard also.
JOHN VENABLES . I am one of the firm of J. and R. Venables, woollen merchants, of 34, Aldgate—I have known Broski as a tailor a great many years, and supplied him with goods—I did not know the prisoner before I saw him in Court—Broski told me he was going to apply for some watches, and asked me to give him a reference to the Waterbury Watch Company—I have not seen Broski since the first or second week in July—he owed us about £100 when he left; we have cheques for that amount which have not been paid—a great many of his cheques have been dishonoured, that began about twelve months back.
Cross-examined. Broski has done business with us eight or nine years to the extent of about £2,000 a year—when the cheques were dishonoured we very seldom had to send them to the bank again; he would come in two or three days and say, "I am very sorry that cheque was dishonoured, here is the money for it"—this was not giving credit, it was merely holding the cheques over—I believed Broski to be a straightforward man.
Re-examined. We have other cheques of his in our hands which are dishonoured; but the reference we gave was this, we had done a very large business with him for many years, but we had not had cash down—we did not say that we had a cheque of his for £20 which was dishonoured; we were not asked that question.
WALTER CRISSFIELD . I am warehouseman to Hudson and Towell—I was in Messrs. Venables' employ two years, when I became acquainted with Broski—when he left he owed my present firm £600 of a debt of £1,600; he had paid off £1,000—I received cheques and bills of Broski's; they were returned if notice was given that he could not meet a cheque;—he may have given us such notice twelve times in twelve months—the £600 represents bills, not cheques.
JOHN KING . I keep the Coach and Horses, Minories—in July the prisoner, Broski, and Levy came there together—they went upstairs on two or three occasions; and while upstairs I heard high words between the prisoner and Broski, and stood on the staircase and called out, "I won't allow any words in my place"; they did not desist, and I went into the room and told them I would not allow it—there were pens and ink on the mantelpiece, but they were not writing—Levy was not with them, but he afterwards came to the bar and I served him—that officer (Pearce) afterwards came to me but I made no statement to him—he asked me whether they were writing, and I said that they might have been—I did not say that I saw them writing, but I did not know what—
I heard the prisoner call Broski a scoundrel, and say, "You have robbed me."
FREDERICK PELLATT . I am a cashier in the London and Suburban Bank, Leadenhall Street—Mr. Broski opened an account there on, I believe, 22nd May, 1891—there was a payment of £37 to credit, and payments continued to be made into the account down to July 31st—on 10th July the credit balance was £2 3s. 4d.—on 18th July £79 15s. was paid in, which assisted to meet a bill of Stafford's of £76, and on 22nd July the credit balance was £6 1s. 3d., which was reduced on the 24th by £2 1s. 3d., and on the 31st it was reduced to 1s. 3d., and the account was closed—the total amount of credit from the opening was £1,250 roughly—on June 9th I find a bill dishonoured, Nodman £41 15s., and on 10th June, Mr. Venables £20—three bills of Nodman were dishonoured on June 10th for about £200, and Mr. Stauffer's bill £79 10s.; then Nodman again, and then Venables £20; Wheeler Brothers, 14th July, cheque dishonoured for £19 10s.; 15th July Venables £27, 16th July Wheeler cheque, re-presented, and so on—on 28th July Broski called at the bank about a cheque in favour of the Waterbury Watch Company, which was returned marked "Refer to drawer"—I believe the Waterbury Watch Company sent to ask whether it was met; I do not know what happened to it, we have no further record than the first occasion, and I presume it was not presented a second time—I do not know how it was taken up.
Cross-examined. Cheques were presented when there was not sufficient to meet them, but very often Mr. Broski would come and say, "Is such and such a cheque in?" and we said, "No, we have returned it," and he would say, "I will go and pick it up"—that might have happened with most of these cheques—a number of cheques were paid to Nodman, 23rd May, £100; 3rd June, £28 11s.; 16th June, £66 10s.; 22nd June, £66 0s. 6d.; 26th June, £40; 10th July, £48 14s.—on 22nd May, £37 was paid in in cash, on 28th May, £30 in cash and notes; on 11th June, £123 10s. in cash; on 22nd June, £67 in cash, and on 30th June, £70 in cash.
Re-examined: I don't remember Broski coming and saying he would take up the £90 cheque—there is no appearance in the banking account of the paying in of £119 on 21st July.
JOHN SAUNDERS . I am in the service of William Durham, of 303, Commercial Road—I know Broski; on 28th July he pawned with me thirty-six Waterbury silver watches for £20—he redeemed them the following day.
ALBERT PEARCE (Detective Sergeant H). I searched the prisoner's room at Dalston, and found a number of documents; one was an agreement dated July 13, between himself and Broski. (Broski undertaking to supply the prisoner with watches of the Waterbury Company, which the prisoner was to sell abroad, and render an account every six months, Broski to receive one third, and the prisoner two-thirds of the profits.)—I saw the prisoner write on the morning of his arrest, and to the best of my belief that agreement is in his writing—I found on him a certificate of his discharge in
bankruptcy to date from January 9th, 1891; also these three invoices, dated July 13th, 21st, and 27th—the first is stamped, and marked "Received by bill at four months"; the others purport to be received by cash in full—I also found some books, in which the name of Bernard is mentioned more than once—I saw a man, who I believe to be Bernard, once at Hatton Garden; I have tried daily to serve him with a subpœna, but have been unable to find him—I found a Waterbury watch in a wardrobe in the prisoner's bedroom, and said, "Here is a Waterbury watch"—he said, "Yes, that is one of them"—I said, "Can you assist us in the recovery of the remainder?"—he said, "No; for I have sold them all"—the witness King made a statement to me in answer to my questions.
FREDERICK PELLATT (Re-examind). We do not appear to have a complete record of the dishonoured bills and notes; but we had cheques presented for £1,880, which is considerably more than was paid in in cheques, and bills between June 4th and August 26th.
Cross-examined. I cannot give you any idea of the portion taken up because they wore taken up by Mr. Broski behind my back; that was a frequent occurrence.
GUILTY— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Tuesday, November 17th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
20. JOHN HARMER (20) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Edwin Cowley, and stealing a bicycle, his goods; also to breaking and entering the shop of James Richards and stealing a tricycle, his goods; and to a conviction of felony in October, 1890.— Twelve Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
21. RICHARD MONTAGU , to embezzling 7s. 10d., 5s. 6d., and 6s. 9d. received by him for and on account of Henry Loomes, his master; also to another indictment for embezzling other sums.— Discharged on recognisances . And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(22). HENRY ERNEST DESMARIAS (22) , to forging a letter of credit for the payment of £5,000; also to stealing a lithographed form of a letter of credit, the property of his masters, the directors of the New Oriental Banking Corporation.— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
For cases tried in this Court this day, see Surrey cases
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 18th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. FORREST FULTON, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on this indictment— NOT GUILTY . The prisoner PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of the said child — Discharged on her own recognisance ,
to appear for judgment if called upon, a lady undertaking to take charge of her and place her in a Home.
For the case of CHARLES WOOD and AGNES AMY WOOD, tried this day, see Kent cases.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, November 18th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
CHARLES THOMAS OFFORD . I am the manager of the Blue lion public-house, Gray's Inn Road—on the evening of 11th October I was serving, when the prisoners came in with two other men—Wright called for a pot of stout and mild, price sixpence; he gave me half-a-crown—I gave him two shillings change, and put the half-crown in the till; I said not detect it was counterfeit—at that time Miss Brasure came into the bar—she called me; I was then serving at the other end—she made a, statement to me and showed me a florin which I saw her break in the tester on the counter—I spoke to the landlord's brother, Mr. Davis—previous to doing so I looked into the till and saw there two half-crowns and some other silver; one of the half-crowns was bad, and was the one I had received, and the other, a good one, had been given in payment for cigars after the florin was detected to be bad—the prisoners left the house, and Davis and another followed them—I had cleared the till about an hour before—the good coin was given by Wright to Miss Brasure after this coin was returned—Wright took no part in the conversation.
NELLIE BRASURE . I am a barmaid at the Blue Lion, Gray's Inn Road—about 8.30 p.m. on 11th October I saw the prisoners there—Wright asked for four twopenny cigars and gave me a counterfeit florin—I called Offord, made a statement to him, and showed him the coin, and then I broke it into three pieces, gave one piece to Wright, and kept the other two; these are they—I told Wright I should give him into custody; he asked me what I meant—he gave mo then a good half-crown, which I put in the till—that and the bad one taken by Offord were the only half-crowns in that till.
MIRIAM JACKSON . I am a barmaid at the Norwich Castle public-house, Gray's Inn Road—about 8.12 p.m., 11th October, the prisoners came in, and Wright asked for two glasses of mild and bitter, price 3d., and gave me half-a-crown; I gave him 2s. 3d. change, and put the half-crown in the till—Murphy came in, and they were taken into custody in front of the bar—afterwards Murphy returned, and then I looked into the till, and this half-crown was the only one there—I tried and bent it in the tester, and afterwards gave it to the police—I did not see McClinchy do or say anything.
GEORGE MURPHY (G 126). On the evening of 11th October, in consequence of a communication, I went into the Norwich Castle with Edbrook—to Wright, who was pointed out to me, I said, "You will have to come over to the Blue Lion public-house with me, as I have received information
that you tendered counterfeit coin there"—both prisoners heard it; they said together, "Lot us drink our beer first, and we will come over with you"—they did that, and I took Wright, and Edbrook took McClinchy into custody—immediately we got outside the public-house McClinchy struck Edbrook on the side of the head with his fist—the inspector threw him to the ground—while down ho threw two handfuls of money from his trousers pockets into the road—I pulled Wright over to where the money fell, and scrambled some of it up out of the gutter, and some more was handed to me by a woman; I saw her pick it up—there was no paper round the coins, they were loose in his pockets—there were fifteen florins, four half-crowns, all counterfeit, and one shilling good money—on Wright I found, at the station, part of a counterfeit florin, in his top waistcoatpocket; it matches the two pieces afterwards produced by Mr. Davis at the station—I also found on. him 16s. silver, 1s. 9d. bronze, all good—I searched McClinchy, but found nothing on him—the coin from the Norwich Castle was handed to me; that from the Blue Lion was brought to mo by Davis.
GEORGE EDBROOK (Inspector G). I have heard the evidence of the last witness—I arrested McClinchy—he struck me outside the public-house; I threw him down; he then pulled out two handfuls of coins—he got away, but I captured him again.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these thirty-one coins are counterfeit; there are twenty-three florins and. eight half-crowns, including the coins uttered and those thrown away—they are of different moulds; but the half-crown uttered at the Blue Lion I believe is from the same mould as one of those thrown away by McClinchy.
Prisoner's Defence. I had a two-shilling piece given to mo to pass for four cigars, and I did not know it was bad, or else I should not have passed it.
WRIGHT— GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury—Judgment respited. McCLINCHY**— Twenty Months' Hard Labour.
25. HENRY JAMES ROUND (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a cloak, the property of Alfred Stedall, after a conviction of felony in June, 1891. In other indictments ho was charged, with FLORENCE ELIZABETH ROUND (22), with stealing a quantity of muslin, the goods of Joseph Waters; nineteen jackets, the goods of Mary Blakebrough; and three mantles, the goods of Edward Anderton, to which, he PLEADED GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BEARD, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against FLORENCE ELIZABETH BOUND.— NOT GUILTY .
Six Months' Hard Labour. —(See Third Court, Saturday.)
OLD COURT.—Thursday, November 19th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
27. CHARLES GRANDE (38) , Feloniously sending to Elizabeth Mary Baldock a letter demanding money, with menaces, without any reasonable or probable cause; Second Count, threatening to kill and murder her.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, MESSRS. SCARLETT and MORSEBY Defended.
ROBERT BENJAMIN USHER . I reside at 8, Grosvenor Place, with my mother-in-law, Elizabeth Mary Baldock—she is a great invalid and somewhat advanced in life—on 17th July last I found this letter on the hall table; I gave it to Mrs. Baldock; I did not see her open it—I went out, and afterwards saw her again—she then showed me the letter, and I read it—she appeared very much upset and excited by the letter—I communicated with the police authorities that evening.
Cross-examined. I found the envelope on the hall table, with something in it, closed—I gave it to Mrs. Baldock, and left before the opened it—I left the house and returned in about an hour; she then had it opened in her hand—this is the envelope—it was stamped 2d. to pay—it is a little torn now; I fancy that was done in opening it; it was in that state when she handed it. to me—I never saw or heard of the prisoner before I saw him at the Police-court—no money was sent.
ELIZABETH MARY USHER . I am the wife of the last witness—Mrs. Baldock is my mother—on 22nd July this letter arrived for her; I opened it and read it; I did not hand it to my mother—on 27th July I received this post-card (marked C); I also kept that from her—she was very much upset and annoyed by the first letter—I gave the documents to the police.
Cross-examined. No one, that I know of, came for any money—an advertisement was asked for in answer to the letter—I believe such an advertisement was inserted by the police, but nobody came—Mrs. Baldock looked upon the letter as threatening her life—she is a cripple, and cannot be moved; of course she was excited.
JAMES HALL . I live at 78, Kenton Street, Brunswick Square—I am now a clerk at the Polytechnic, in Regent Street—I know the prisoner; he informed me that he was a Dane—I was formerly in his employment as clerk, from October, 1888, to June, 1889—he was a private inquiry agent in the Strand; I forget the number—during the time I was with him I had frequent opportunities of seeing him write, so as to become acquainted with his handwriting; to the best of my belief this letter (A) is his handwriting, the envelope is different; I don't know anything about the envelope—this letter (B) is also in his handwriting—I think this post-card (C) is in the same writing; I would not Be confident as to that; this document (H. C.) is also his writing; also this (E. T.)—he was not in the habit of writing in any particular ink—I have seen him write printing letters—this document (S. J.) is of a similar character to those which ho was in the habit of using from time to time; both the envelope and the letter—when I say printing, I mean writing as though printing.
Cross-examined. I first met the prisoner in the Strand; I was in want—I did not meet him in the street, I went to his office—I was very much down in the world and hungry—I did not ask him for food and money; he gave me money to get food, for which I was very thankful—he gave me employment; that was principally at his private house, where I cleaned knives and so forth—when my duties were over there my employment
was at the office, as something of a messenger—before I wont to him I had been connected with the Cattle Market; originally I was apprenticed to a grocer—I have not been a tipster; I know what you mean, connected with the betting world; I have not—that is all I have been—I was only connected with the inquiry office since I came to London; those are the only three occupations in which I have been engaged—at the Polytechnic I addressed wrappers—on some occasions I was at the prisoner's house almost all day, the latter part of the time especially—he gave up the office—while he had the office I was principally there, as clerk, hardly a messenger; my duties were to copy documents that he wrote—there was not much messenger work to do—he gave me things written by himself to copy—I never had any of the printed ones to copy—I don't remember his complaining of an important letter lost from the office—he never gave me into custody for stealing it—he did give me into custody, but what for I don't know; it was not for stealing a letter, it was for robbery of clothes and forging some notes; I did not leave without giving any notice; everything was sold up—he gave me into custody on Bank Holiday, the 3rd of August, this year; the next day after that I went to Sergeant James, the man connected with this case—I know Lynch, he was a fellow-servant of mine at the office the latter part of the time—I saw him in August, I believe, before I had seen James—I saw him on the Saturday before I was given into custody; I knew Lynch's address—I saw him on Tuesday, the 4th—I told him that I had made a communication to Sergeant James—I did not not tell him that it was suggested that the prisoner was connected with this threatening letter case, I did not know that at the time; I think I first heard it on the following Monday; some one called when I was out on Sunday, asking mo to go to Scotland Yard; that would be the 9th—I am not aware that immediately after the 9th of August I told Lynch, I cannot call it to mind, I cannot remember—very likely I was constantly seeing him, I might see him during that week—I was not seeing him nearly every day, I saw him every week—I don't think I communicated with him on the matter the next time after I had been to Scotland Yard; I think I was told to be silent, and I kept so—I could not say when I first spoke to Lynch about it; no doubt I should say something about it, not connected with the Scotland Yard business; I have not studied handwriting at all—letter A is in a common commercial handwriting—I was accustomed to the prisoner's handwriting, I recognise it by the general run of it—I could not tell you anything particular by which I know it (looking at a paper)—I would not say anything about this—it is my opinion that letter is the prisoner's writing—I would not say anything about the address—I do not think this letter is his; it is a different hand altogether—I don't know anything about the post-card; I can't say one way or the other as to that—the prisoner generally wrote in black ink—I don't know whether there was red ink there—I can't say that there were many documents written in print—I suppose in a private inquiry business it is sometimes necessary to disguise handwriting—I don't know who did the printing; I never did it; I was never asked to do it—I never copied any printing that I am aware of—I saw him doing it on one or two occasions—there is a variety of printing in those letters; some in Roman characters, and all sorts of characters—I almost believe that I saw him do it,
I won't say positively, or something similar to that; I saw him do something on this document S. J.—it was in June, 1889, that the office broke up and he left—he gave the office up I think in December, 1889—I left Baker Street in June, 1889—since then till I saw these letters I never saw the prisoner's handwriting.
Re-examined. The letters A and B are in the prisoner's ordinary handwriting—I never had any charge made against me during the time I was in his service—when I was given into custody the inspector refused to take the charge, and said the prosecutor must take out a warrant, which he never did—no proceedings nave ever been taken against me upon it. Letter A wan read at follow:—"Madam,—Take notice that if you do not pay me the sum of £500, I dash your brains out as soon as you read this note, by a dynamite explosion. I stand in want of the said sum, and I must have it, or perish in the attempt. Remember, madam, that desperate men, or rather a man brought to despair by the villainy of a woman, will do desperate things, and indeed a woman shall pay for it. Be careful how you proceed in this case. You may be advised to apply to the police for protection, but if you do you will find that their protection is not much better than that of your lap-dog; if the English detectives cannot even apprehend the man who killed on the open streets in Whitechapel seven or eight women, then indeed their detective qualities must be limited; in fact, skill should not protect you from my hand. If I do not get the sum I have demanded, understand, I am firmly determined to have it or have your life as the value for it. If you estimate your life so low that you would not nay £600 for, then I must leave you to your own reflections. Do not believe that it is my intention to dash your brains out with a revolver, that, indeed, would be a madman's work. No, madam; a thin cake of dynamite placed between some mounted fulminate of silver, and the whole placed between the door and mat on the floor upon which you have to pass, or under your seat in the church, or even under the cushion of your carriage, will immediately explode the moment the weight of your body comes upon it, and dash you to pieces. I intend to do what I say; I have been ruined by a woman, and a woman shall pay for it. I have sent a letter like this to nine other ladies for the purpose, that if you do not pay I will dash your brains out, and you will then serve to others of us an example of what they have to expect if they do not pay up If you feel disposed to comply with my request, please then to insert in the Daily Telegraph the following advertisement: 'A. M. M. will comply,' and an address will be forwarded to you for where to address the money, or it may be that it may be called for, only mark well that treachery on your part will be punished with instant death, as I am well prepared for such an emergency. I am sorry to trouble you in this way, but I must have the money. Hoping you will be sensible enough to give the required reply, I remain, Madam, yours truly, a.m. M. Your last day for payment the 24th July. Mrs. B----, 8, Grosyenor Place. Madam, if you have not the sum I demand at hand, then inform me when you can pay it. I know that you are not poor, and you cannot miss a paltry sum. please insert the above number in your advertisement, No. 5." Witness. The prisoner gave his right address when I was taken into custody; it was some house in Kennington Road, I do not remember the number.
out apartments there; about the end of June last the prisoner took the top back room at 6s. a week in the name of Grant; he said he was getting money from a lawsuit—I attended to his room while he was there—one day as I was cleaning the table I went to remove a book, and as I moved it I saw a piece of paper underneath, on the table—it was written in red ink—I read it; it began, "Madam, take notice" and demanding a certain sum of a lady, and if she did not send it by a certain day he would dash her brains out, and he would use dynamite in the cushion of her carriage, and at the threshold of her door—she could call the police for protection, but it would be no good, it would be as much use as a lap-dog; that he had been ruined by a woman and a woman should suffer—this was very soon after he came, at the end of June or the beginning of July—that is all I remember of the letter—I don't remember when it was said that the dynamite was to be used—he continued lodging at the house up to 12th August—a little time before lie left somebody called to see him; I took him to be a tipsy man—I told the prisoner that a gentleman called and wished to see him, and asked if he was still giving music lessons; he said he did not know that anybody would call for him—he asked me more than once for a description of the person, and I gave it as well as I could—when he left, on 12th August, I understood he was going to Brighton—he did not come back—he took duggage with him; I kept his rooms for him for nine days, that would be up to 20th August—I did not keep them longer, because he sent us a letter from Paris; this is the letter (A. D). (James Hall. This letter is the prisoner's writing, envelope and letter both.) (The letter stated that as his stay in Paris would be several months, there was no necessity to keep the rooms.) I have seen the letter (A.) addressed to Mrs. Baldock—the words in the letter I saw on the table were just the same.
Cross-examined. I could not remember word for word in the letter—I said at the Police-court that it was about three weeks before that I had seen the letter, or about a fortnight before he left; I think it must have been about that time—I am of that opinion still—we had some stuff stolen from our place, and mother went to Kennington Lane about it, and two detectives came to inquire about it, that was about a week after the prisoner had gone; that was how this matter came about—but before that I saw two gentlemen outside our house, watching it—I did not know who they were—it was when the police came about our stuff that I had a talk with them about this—I think that would be about the 19th or 20th August; I don't remember the date—I did not see Sergeant James about it—I never saw him till I got to the Police-court—Mr. Gray, of Kennington Lane, was the first person with whom I had any conversation about the letter—he did not show me a copy of it—he came and asked who was in the room before Mr. Grant had it, and I said Mr. Lushington—mother told him that I saw a letter in red ink on Mr. Grant's table, and then Mr. Williams came—I did not show the letter to my mother; I left it on the table in the same place, under the book or in the book—it was when I was dusting the room I saw it—I read it through—it was on a white piece of paper—I told Mr. Gray that I thought it must be a copy of a letter—I could not swear to it—I did not attach any importance to it until the matter cropped up with Gray—I did not discuss it with anybody—I read it all—I remember the threats because it frightened me—I remember
the dynamite, the cushion of the carriage, and the threshold of the door; I remembered it before the police discussed the matter with me; they did not discuss it till after I had told them—then they told me what the letter was; they showed me a letter; I had told them all before they showed me the letter—I have a little memory, I don't know about it being a good one; I could not very well forget a thing like the dynamite—I am perfectly sure that it was not after a conversation with the police that I began to recollect the thing more accurately—the prisoner never locked his rooms when he went out—he used to lock them when he was in—I was never in the rooms when he was there—he was out the greater part of the day—we had other lodgers—the prisoner had complained of people coming into his room when he was out; he saw one of them coming out of his room; that was the one we suspected had stolen the stuff; it was a female; she has not been convicted of it; we cannot find them.
Re-examined. This letter was the only piece of writing in his room that I read—he always left his writing about the room, but I never took much notice of it—Sergeant Williamson was the man who I thought was the tipsy man.
WILLIAM WILLIAMSON (Detective Sergeant). I am the person who called at 83, Kennington Road on the 18th August, and made some inquiry about the prisoner—I was watching the house on 11th August and some days before.
HENRY WYBORN (Chief Inspector F). In August, 1887, I was one of the inspectors of the D division stationed at Tottenham Court Road Police-station—I had a constable serving under me named William Hughes, No. 409; I received this letter dated 5th August, 1887, (H. W.) through the Commissioner—I knew the prisoner at that time—after receiving the letter I saw him at his house, 35, Charlotte Street, Portland Place; he and a woman had the house between them—I took with me the letter and showed it to him, and had some conversation with him respecting the complaint in the letter—I don't remember the exact words—I made a report of it at the time—I said, "I have come to see you respecting this complaint," showing him the letter, and then he entered into details—it was a long letter, complaining of the conduct of Hughes—I was with him discussing the merits of the complaint about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—he spoke to me about Hughes, and the purport of the letter.
Cross-examined. The house in Charlotte Street was a large house—he was living there with a prostitute—I have known the woman for years; her name was on the door; I knew her before he picked her up; I have known her on the streets for years—I don't say the letter is in the prisoner's writing; I never saw him write.
ELIZABETH TAPLIN . I am the wife of Charles Taplin, a solicitor's clerk, and live at 27, Gordon Dwellings, Camberwell—some little time ago my husband had some business which he transacted for the prisoner—at the end of July this year I received this letter (E. T.), it came by hand—the prisoner called at my house and asked to see me—I declined to see him—I afterwards met him in the street; he said, "Have you received my letter, madam?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Why did you not come up and see me?"—I said I did not think proper; I thought I had better not; he had better wait and see Mr. Taplin—I showed
him the letter—I kept it in my possession—I sent it to our solicitor, Mr. Deakin, to write to him—it came from 83, Kennington Road, and is signed by him. (The letter was written in red ink, and requested the witness to forward to him his portmanteau, his dog, and other things.)
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I have made handwriting a study for forty-eight years; during the adjournment of the Court I have looked at the letter just produced, marked E. T., also the letter H. W., addressed to the Commissioner of Police—I have compared them with letters A and B addressed to Mrs. Baldock, and I say in my judgment the four letters are written by the same hand.
Cross-examined. I have made a very hurried examination of them, but quite sufficient for my purpose—I have been through pretty well all the documents, not to remark all the peculiarities in each, but I am quite positive they are written by the same hand—I do not often find a peculiarity in one person's writing that I find in another, I do sometimes, but very seldom—I am not in any other business—I was a lithographer and fac-similist, and published a work upon the subject, which I dedicated to Royalty—there are other experts in handwriting, not many, there is Mr. Inglis; there are two or three who style themselves exports, brought forward in opposition to me—it may be that I am sometimes wrong, I do not remember it, sometimes persons have taken an opposite view—Mr. Inglis is not an expert, he is a lithographer, as well as myself—he has been on one side and I on the other, in difficult cases—I am now speaking from a general glance of these documents; I have seen this handwriting before—I think I have seen all these, A, B, C, and D—I think I can pledge my oath that these are all in the same handwriting.
By the COURT. There are some peculiarities in the writing to which I could call attention, in the word "two," for instance, which occurs all through the documents in letter A; the beginning of the word "Madam," that word is formed in rather a peculiar way, and it is the same in the letter produced by the last witness; and the k's are alike all through.
WILLIAM JAMES (Police Sergeant D). In the early part of September. I was watching for the prisoner about the streets—I followed a boy for the purpose of tracing the prisoner—on September 3rd I received thin letter, in printed characters: "Hyde Park Scoundrel, do not let me see you in my way again. I could see you yesterday, although your detective Smart could commit perjury when well bribed; you dog, you could not see me. Bo careful, and do not come in my way; for, sure as this is written by me, the man whom you have injured by your crime of perjury, I dash your brains out the moment you come near me. I will see your heart blood before they get me again by your perjury. My hand is used to firearms, and by heaven I shall not miss you when I get you in my sight"; addressed Police Sergeant James, Tottenham Court Road Station—I was attached to the Tottenham Court Road station at that time, and I am stationed there now—on 26th September I went to Maiden Railway Station with Detective Holder, and there saw the prisoner—I caught him in the roar, and said, "Grande, consider yourself in custody"—he said, "What for?"—I said, "For sending letters to ladies demanding money and threatening to murder thorn"—on the way to the station he said, "You dirty scoundrel! this is your
work, you who have received £50 from Morris to put me away before; if I had seen you I would have blown your brains out. You dirty dog! you are good at perjury when you are well bribed. I shall soon be out of this, and then look out; I will not shoot you, I will put about six inches of steel into your back"—at the station he did not give his address—he was not asked his address at Maiden Station—after I left him there I went to No. 1, The Oaklands, Acacia Road, Maiden, and there searched the two front rooms on the ground floor—I there found, amongst other things, this cigar-box, tied with a strong string, fitted with two springs, one on each side, with a patch of gunpowder; two bottles of acid, and several other articles—I afterwards took the prisoner by train to London—I had handcuffed the prisoner at Maiden Police-station.—as we were on the platform, the train was coming in; I was holding the prisoner's right hand with my left, and as we were getting into the train the prisoner pushed me very hard towards it, and on getting into the train he said, "You scoundrel! it was my intention to push you under the train; I would not mind doing it"—he continued the whole of the way from Maiden to Waterloo making use of threats of violence towards me—he said, "You, as a clever detective, could not catch me; I have seen you many a time—when I sent a boy from the Messenger Company to the bank in Victoria Street, I saw you, I was in the churchyard; and you. the gentleman detective, you b—fool, you could have seen me; I saw you in Hyde Park following the poor little boy, you b----fool, and you could not see me"—I said, "Yes; that is what you said in the letter you sent me"—he said, "Me send you a letter?"—I said, "Yes"—he then said, "Ah, yes; that will be my line of defence; if any letters have been sent, it was you, you dirty dog, who have sent it; I will settle with you when I get through this; and it is a good job you have got me now, as I was off to New York on Monday"—and then, shaking his handcuffs, he said, "If I could only take these cuffs off I would take my hands round your neck and strangle you, you dog, I would."
Cross-examined. I saw the witness Hall on 4th August—the watch had been set on the house at Kennington long before that, in July—officers were deputed to do it by the Inspector; I was one—I saw the prisoner leave there in the early part of August—he was not pleased to see me at Maiden—I put down in writing what the prisoner said, about three hours after, at Rochester Row—I put down everything I could remember; I remember it distinctly—I say seriously that he made an attempt to push me under the tram—we were waiting in the waiting-room till the train came in—on the platform I was between him and the train—Holder was in the train with us—I could not do any writing in the train; knowing the man's character and his threats I was afraid of him.
JAMES HOLDER (Detective J). I was present with James on 26th September, when the prisoner was arrested—the prisoner was carrying this bag in his hand at the time he took possession of it—I opened it at Maiden Police-station—I found in it this revolver, it was not loaded; also this brass knuckle-duster, a metal whistle, and some memoranda—the prisoner was present when I found them—I said to him, "You see what this bag contains?"—he replied, "I got them for you b----scoundrels, and meant to give it you"—James was in the station at the time, I could not say in what part, I should think he could hear what the prisoner said—on 28th September I was present at Westminster Police-court
—the case was called on and remanded, after the information of Miss Desmond had been read—after that the prisoner went for me, and I went to his cell; he said, "How do you thick I shall get on after what that girl said? I never thought of seeing her here to-day; she appears to have recollected lots of things that I had forgotten myself; I never thought she would have come here and speak against me. Whatever shall I do, after what she has said? But I shall stand a good chance to get out of it if the lady does not come; and the man Hall, of course, swears to my writing, because I once charged him; that is a very serious thing for me; but never mind, I have got the best man in London to defend me; he is up to all the tricks of the trade"—Mr. Arthur Newton, of Marlborough Street, was appearing for him at that time.
Cross-examined. The whistle I found in the bag was not a police whistle, but very similar—he appeared somewhat excited at being arrested—it is not a fact that I first spoke to the prisoner when passing his cell; he sent the gaoler, Sergeant Burchell, for me; the message was that Grande would like to see me—I did not caution him before he made the statement—I have been sixteen years in the force—I made the note at the time, as I stood by the wicket gate; he saw me writing it—this is the original note (produced)—this is an additional memorandum—the note I took of the statement I read a few minutes after I had spoken to Inspector Moore, at the same station—this piece of paper has nothing to do with that—I did not take the whole of it down at the wicket gate—it was almost immediately after I had seen the inspector that I wrote this down in my book.
HENRY MOORE (Inspector). On 16th September, about midnight, I found the prisoner at the station—I told him I was an inspector of police, and held a warrant for his arrest, which I could read to him; I commenced and read as far as Mrs. Baldock's name, when he suddenly fainted and fell on the floor—when he came to he asked me to read the warrant again; I did so—he said, "With intent to steal £500"; then, after a pause, he said, "Where was the money sent?"—he then muttered the word "menace" several times—I said, "You know the meaning of it?"—he said, "Yes; threats"—he was then charged, and whilst being charged he said, "It is lucky you have got me just now, as I was off to America on Monday.
Cross-examined. He had been in custody since seven o'clock—I did not know that he had been without food all day; I don't know what caused him to faint.
He was further charged with having been convicted of felony on 9th July, 1877, at the Guildhall, Westminster, to which he pleaded NOT GUILTY.
GEORGE HEWLETT . I was formerly in the D division of Police—on 9th July, 1877, I was at the Sessions of the Peace at the Guildhall, Westminster—I produce a certificate of the conviction of Christian Neilson (This was a certificate of conviction of stealing and receiving, after a previous conviction—Sentence, Eight Years Penal Servitude and Seven Years' Police Supervision)—the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. I am not in the Police now; I retired last May—I have not seen the prisoner since July, 1877, till about a month ago—there is a photo of him here—don't know whether the warder is here
—I don't know when the prisoner came out of prison—I think he was convicted at this Court in June, 1889, but I don't know it.
Re-examined. I have no doubt that he is the man who was convicted in 1877.
THEODORE BARTELLS (Detective Sergeant). On 6th May, 1884, a prisoner who was released on ticket-of-leave reported himself to me—the prisoner is that man—he reported himself in the name of Christian Neilson—I saw him again in Holloway Prison, after his arrest on this charge—I did not know him before.
Cross-examined. He only reported himself on his release, not afterwards—I did not make inquiry for him—I have heard that in 1889 he was corresponding with Inspector Wybrow—when he reported himself I was furnished with this document containing his photo, with a description of marks, and so on, in the usual way.
(See Old Court, Tuesday, 24th).
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.
ELIZABETH WHITE . I am the prisoner's wife—we have been married about 32 years—in this year we were living at the Yorkshire Hotel, Euston Road—on 25th September, this year, there was a quarrel between us, and the police were called in—the prisoner had threatened to stab me with a carving knife, and to hang for me; he was bound over to keep the peace—lately we have occupied separate bedrooms, for two nights only—early on the morning of 20th October he followed me into my room and began to use vile language—we were then sleeping in the same bed-room—I said I would not have it—he said, "If you won't have that, you shall have this," and he took a razor from the top of the cupboard and cut my throat—I was sitting on a chair, not undressed—I put up my hand to prevent him, and the razor cut my thumb—I struggled with him—he then left me—I saw him go out at the door—I was taken to the hospital, and remained there some time—I have not quite recovered yet—I am still an out-patient.
Cross-examined. I suppose he had had some drink—I had been out with him the night before, since about eight, to a public-house in Judd Street, the Balmoral—my sister was with me; we left him there—we got home about twelve—a Mrs. Earl was staying in the house for the night; I don't know that she is a person of loose character—I was told she had gone up to my room, not with a man—I did not know her, more than, coming in for a bed—I saw her that night, I was not drinking with her—she did not in my presence make an indecent remark to my husband—he has not constantly complained of the persons I had in the house—he has not gone down on his knees and begged me to keep prostitutes out—if he has complained it has been when in drink—we lived on very bad terms.
ALFRED NICHOLLS (Detective Sergeant E). On 20th October I received information and went to 49, Euston Road—I saw a quantity of blood, and a number of articles stained with blood—I found this razor on the mantelpiece in the back parlour; there were bloodstains on it—about six the same morning the prisoner was handed over to me by another
constable—I told him he would be charged with attempting to murder his wife that morning at 49, Euston Road, by cutting her throat with a razor—he said, "I deny it"—I searched him, and found on him, among other articles, this letter, addressed to Mrs. Williams, his married daughter—on searching the house I found a bottle of laudanum. (The letter was as follows:—"My dear Maggie,—Just arrived to tell you that my body will be brought to your place, and that I am put away, as you may likewise know. Thank that woman for all the trouble that has taken place; and, my dear, I ask you for the last time you will hear from me, to clear the lot out. Tell your dear husband not to allow them to stay there, or they will drive him out of his mind, as your dear mother has driven me out of my mind. My poor head aches. My dear, kiss mother for me, and may God bless her for ever. Come and see my body, it is your broken-hearted father. May God look after you, and think of the old man gone to another world. I can't write any more. God bless you, dear Maggie.—From your affectionate father. A. W.")
Cross-examined. At that time he appeared to be suffering from the effects of drink.
ROBERT BOUGHTON . At half-past three on the afternoon of 20th October I was called to a pawnbroker's shop in Robert Street, Regent's Park; I there saw the prisoner—I told him I was a police-constable, and that ho answered the description of Alexander White, wanted for the attempted murder of a woman in the Euston Road last evening—he said, "Yes, my name is Alexander White, I live at 49, Euston Road"—I took him into custody, when he said, "Did you say murder? I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station and searched him, and found this revolver, perfectly new, loaded in six chambers, also forty-four cartridges—he said he intended blowing out his own brains that night—he said, "If there is anything the matter with my wife, it is the bullies and prostitutes in the house that have done it."
Cross-examined. I think he was dazed with drink.
WALTER PEMBERTON FFOOKS . I am house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital—on the early morning of 20th October the deceased was admitted there—she had an incised wound on the right side of the neck, four inches long, across the front of the throat, passing the middle line—the first two inches of the wound were deep, and severed the external jugular and the anterior half of the main muscle on the side of the neck, the rest of the wound was through skin and loose tissue just beneath it; she was suffering severely from loss of blood—she was quite conscious, I should not say that she appeared to have been drinking—I noticed four wounds on the right hand, two were deep and two superficial—one deep one was on the inner side of the right thumb, the other was within an inch of the end of the middle finger; the two superficial ones were one on either side of the palm—the wound in the neck was a dangerous one; I think the injuries could have been caused by a razor—I dont know when she left the hospital
GEORGE SUGG (E 63). On 25th September last the prisoner was in my custody on a charge of threatening to murder his wife—I saw him running down the garden from the house into the Euston Road—he had nothing in Ins hand—I heard him say he would cut his wife's head off—I took him into custody on a warrant—he said, "I mean to go back and do what I said, if I get fifty years for it"—his wife and several others
were running away from him when he said he would cut her head off; he made the other statement on his way to the station—he was remanded for a fortnight to Holloway Prison, and then discharged.
GUILTY on the Second Count — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, November 19th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WOODFALL Prosecuted.
EDITH PEARCE . I live at 25, Avenue, Queen's Park, Harrow Road, and am assistant to Mr. Bromwich, a florist, of Buckingham Palace Road—on October 3rd, about 1.20, the prisoner came in and asked to see some ferns; he selected some value 10s. 6d., and wanted them sent to the Naval and Military Club—he gave me the name of Captain Thurston, which I entered in a book, he looking over me—he Asked what time we closed; I said nine o'clock; he said, "If you send my plants some time this evening it will do"—I asked if he would pay for them then or on delivery; he said, "I will pay for them now if you can change a £5 note, it does not matter which"—I went to the cashier, and while I was speaking to her the prisoner came up and I left him speaking to her—I picked him out on 27th October from eight or nine others.
ALICE HONEYBALL . I am cashier to Mr. Bromwich—on October 3rd Miss Pearce brought the prisoner to my desk—he gave me this £5. note, and I put Mr. Bromwich's stamp on it to identify it—he gave me no name; I took that from the order-book—he said that the note was on the Plymouth branch, and he did not know whether we should charge for cashing it, but he had cashed them in Bond Street, and had never been charged there—I said, "If you have never been charged before we shall not charge you anything for it"—I took the note and gave him £4 9s. 6d. in change—it was handed to Carter, the foreman, to take out and change it; he brought it back as forged—he was directed to take it; with the ferns, to the club—on 27th October I picked out the prisoner from eight or nine men at the Police-station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not hear you say, "Do you think this note is all right, it is on a branch of the Bank of England?"—you said that it was drawn on the Plymouth branch, both before and after you got the change—I was not going towards the door of the Cloak Lane station, not having recognised you.
ARTHUR ARNOLD CARTER . I am Mr. Bromwich's foreman—on Saturday afternoon, October 3rd, Miss Honeyball gave me this note to try and change it, but I was not able to do so—I went to the Naval and Military Club at night with the ferns, and found that there was a Mr. Thurston there, but he was away.
Cross-examined. The club was the only address I had.
EDWARD KNIGHT . I have been three years hall porter at the Naval and Military Club, Piccadilly; I have been at the club fourteen years—on Saturday evening, October 3rd, Carter came there—there is no Captain Thurston a member—there is a Mr. A. B. Thruston, but he is
in Egypt—I send his letters there to him—the prisoner is not a member of the club.
Cross-examined. The solicitor showed me a card with the name of Mr. Thurston on it.
THOMAS LEA SOUTHGATE . I am Inspector of Bank Notes to the Bank of England—this note is a forgery—it purports to be drawn on the Plymouth branch of the Bank of England, but it was not issued there—it purports to be an identical representation of a genuine note which has been cancelled—we have had others presented.
HENRY COX (City Detective). On 26th October I saw the prisoner and another man in Commercial Road, Pimlico, and followed them to 15, Ranelagh Grove—they went in and came out and parted company, and the prisoner returned to the house alone—I communicated with Inspector Wright, who arrested him in my presence, and went with me next day to search his rooms.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective Inspector). On 27th October I was with Cox and saw the prisoner in Pimlico Road, and said we were officers, and should arrest him for forging and uttering a Bank of England note—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he was taken to the station and charged; he made no reply—we went to his address and found this box (produced)—I told him he had cashed a note at Mr. Bromwich's shop, and given the name of Captain Thurston—we took the box to the station, and he said, "That belongs to my friend"—I said, "We cannot find the key, and your friend says it is yours"—I found a key on him which fitted the lock, and found in the box a cardcase with the name of "A. B. Thurston, Esq., Naval and Military Club," a book of cheques, and a number of letters—I was afterwards informed that he wished to see me in the cell; he said that he cashed the note—I asked from whom he received it; he said, "From a man outside Tattersall's "; I said, "Can you give me his name and address?"—he said, "No, I did not get much out of it, I only got a sovereign for cashing it"—he said his friend's name was Wilson.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you did not think it was at forged note.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he cashed the note for a man whom he met that morning, but would not have done so had he known that it teas forged; and that he first took it to a butcher where he dealt, and asked if it was all right, and he said, "Yes"— GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court on 23rd May, 1881, in the name of Arthur Andrews.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. H. AVORY and MR. BYRON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
JULIUS NICHOLAS KUHN . I am an importer of fancy goods at 75, Wimpole Street—I engaged the prisoner as traveller about March, 1888, at £2 10s. a week salary and I per cent. commission and £1 1s. a week for expenses—it was his duty to account for money from customers the next day or on Saturday night—he had no authority to endorse cheques; it was his duty to send them up to me—at the end of each week he rendered
me an account in this form, showing the amounts received on one side, and the disbursements on the other—he did not account for £8 13s. 3d. received from Mr. Maggs on 13th May, 1891, or for £4 12s. 3d. from Mr. Bradford on 14th May, or for £2 3s. 9d. from Mr. A. Moore on 29th July—these three receipts are in the prisoner's writing—I received this letter from him on May 14th, in which he says that he has received £8 13s. 3d. from Mr. Maggs, and he accounted for it; Mr. Maggs owed me £8 9s. 11d. in December, 1890—the prisoner did not account to me for £8 5s. 6d. received in settlement of that account—this is not my endorsement on Mr. Maggs' cheque for £8 5s. 6d., it is the prisoner's writing—I did not authorise him to endorse it—my accounts are sent out in January, April, July, and October—this account of Mr. Maggs', of £8 9s. 11d. would be sent to him in April as not being paid—the account for £8 13s. 3d. would not go in till July—I discharged the prisoner in July, 1891; end when my accounts were sent in in September I received a great many of them back as having been paid—I caused inquiries to be made, and the prisoner was taken in custody—when he left in July, only his commission account was made out—he saw it before he left—he asked me what the balance due to me was; I told him about £5, without taking into account the embezzlements.
Cross-examined. He was a good traveller; the business increased while he was in my employ—I gave him a character afterwards—he was in employment at the time of his arrest—my clerk keeps my books—I have examined them and give evidence from them—if the prisoner was in town the clerk had to enter any money received; if he was in the country the clerk received the money and entered it in the books—he has not complained that the guinea a week for travelling expenses was insufficient—he complained two years ago that he found it difficult to travel on the expenses—he has been three years in my employ—he had to carry parcels round, big boxes; he charged me with that as excess luggage—at one time he deducted eleven shillings for excess luggage when there was none—I do not suggest that that was a fraud—I did not send him on a three days' tour and give him only £2 for expanses; he was sent for one day and stayed out three days, and wrote that he had cashed several small amounts at Brighton,
Re-examined. Mr. Maggs lives at Eastbourne—December 10th was the day the £8 5s. 6d. was received; I do not think he started till the morning of the 10th; ho had £2 with him for expenses—he came home the third clay, and accounted for the £2 17s. 6d., £2 11s. 5d., and £1 5s. 10d., all received in cash according to his statement—he was actually paid £8 14s. 9d. while he was those two days at Eastbourne—this is the account he rendered for the week—he accounts for his expenses on the other side—if he spent more there was no reason why he should not put it down; there was no arrangement that he was not to spend more than a guinea a week; I allowed him more at Christmas because ho had more luggage—if ho showed me that his railway fare cost £2 4s. 4d. it would have been allowed, but he never suggested it—I did not give him an unblemished character when he left, but I knew nothing of this embezzlement at that time—I discharged him for irregularities.
Eastbourne—I know the prisoner as travelling for Mr. Kuhn—on 10th December, 1890, I gave him this cheque for £8 5s. 6d. in respect of a sum of £8 9s. 11d. less discount—he gave me this receipt (produced) on the London and Provincial Bank, Eastbourne branch, to Kuhn and Co. or order—it has been passed through my bank and cashed—about 13th May he came again, and I gave him this cheque to order for £8 13s. 3d. in respect of an account for £8 17s. 8d. less discount—he receipted the bill in my presence—he asked me to make it payable to bearer, and I altered it—it has been cashed at my bank.
Cross-examined. He did not say that the transaction in December was to be for ready money as it was the first, and that he wanted to get the cheque cashed at once.
ALBERT WILLIAM BRUFORD . I am a watchmaker and jeweller, with my father, at 100, Terminus Road, Eastbourne—in the beginning of May the prisoner came to my shop for an account for £4 14s. 8d. which I had—I paid him £4 12s. 3d. in cash; there was a reduction of 2s. 5s. for discount—he gave a receipt dated May 14th.
Cross-examined. I do not think he has called since—he used to call three or four times a year—he is in another firm now, but has not called on me.
JOHN STARES AMOORE . I am a bookseller, of High Street, "Wimbledon—I know the prisoner as Mr. Kuhn's traveller—on 29th July I paid him in cash, I believe, £2 3s. 9d. for an account—there was a reduction of 2s. 4d. for discount and tax—he gave me this receipt.
BENJAMIN MORGAN (Police Sergeant D). On 30th October I found the prisoner at Bath in custody of the police—I charged him on this warrant with embezzling, on 16th April, 1891, £5 4s. and other sums, of Mr. Kuhn, his employer—he made no reply.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. JARVIS Prosecuted, and MR. WILLIAMS Defended.
ARCHIBALD JOHN JOSOLYNE . I am a money-lender, and carry on business as Walter Wood, and as Clay—I have known the defendant about five years—on July 16th he owed me £14—he called and asked me to lend him £5, as he had an opportunity of buying a parcel of goods which, he would be able to make £10 or £14 of—I said, "You owe me £14, I had rather not increase it;" he pressed me very much, and said, "I will give you 32s. for the use of it for a month"—I was very reluctant—he pressed me again—I said, "Very well; show me the receipt for your rent up to the present time, and I will let you have the money"—he said, "My rent is paid"—I said, "Show me the receipt"—he said, "The receipt is locked up in my desk at home"—this was between twelve and one o'clock—he lives at Clapham, about three miles and a half off—I said, "Go home and fetch it; I shall be here till six o'clock"—he said, "I have no time to do that"—he said, "I will write you a letter to satisfy you that my rent is paid"; and wrote this letter: "For your satisfaction in making me the above advance, I state that my rent for the above house is paid up to June 24th, 1891. A. Shillinglaw"—I gave him £5 in cash, and he gave me this promissory note (produced)—I next saw him on August 11th, when ho came to my office and said,
"I find the goods I wanted to buy cost a little more money, I want. £3 10s."—I gave it to him at once, believing that his rent was paid—when the bills came due they were dishonoured, and my solicitor took proceedings in the Mayor's Court, and obtained judgment, but recovered nothing; he set up a bogus claim, the Sheriff had to withdraw, and I have lost the money.
Cross-examined. I have carried on business for seven years—my dealings with the defendant began about five years ago, when I lent him cash at about the same rate of interest, but in this case he offered it; I did not charge him—I do not know that I charged him about 270 per cent.—I look upon it as accommodation, not as interest—in the other case it was £3 10s. for a week; I have not taken the trouble to calculate whether that was about 700 per cent.—I trade as Wood in Furnival's Inn, and as Josolyne at 70, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury—I have traded as Johnson in London Wall, and as Clay in Cheapside, but I have given that office up—I did not lend him £3 10s. on August 8th—I keep no books at all; my bills are my books, and my banker's pass-book; I have no memorandum from which I can say how many transactions I have had with the defendant during the last six years—I have a cheque-book, but I paid the £3 10s. by cash; I generally give cash under £10, and for all transactions under £10 I have no record. (A letter was here put in from the defendant to the witness enclosing 22s. 6d. for interest, and asking him to renew the bill)—I believe I sued him in the Mayor's Court for £10 2s. and get judgment—I believe I taxed my costs on the ordinary £10 scale; if I had given him credit for the 22s. it would have been under the £10 scale—I gave the same evidence at the Police-court, I believe, as I have given here; and the Alderman dismissed the charge with the remark that the rate of interest was exorbitant—he did not say that no Jury would convict—I was bound over to prosecute.
Re-examined, I went before a Grand Jury of my country—I gave credit for this 22s. when I levied my fi. fa—I declined to renew the bill.
ROBERT BROOMFIELD . I live at 63, Kimberley Road, Clapham, and am landlord of the defendant's house—on 16th July this year he owed two quarters' rent; it was not paid till I put a broker in at the end of August—as soon as I knew the Sheriff was in I gave notice to him—the broker sold the goods; they are not removed from the premises.
Cross-examined. My first written application to the defendant to pay the rent was on August 6th—he then wrote me this letter. (Stating that he had only lately ascertained that his wife had taken upon herself to pay off some private debts, and had held over the rent, but that he could clear off the greater part of it before September 29th.)—the rent had always been paid by his wife—he has been my tenant four years—I had not applied to him for the rent; I had not seen him; I only applied to his wife; I always received it from her very regularly up to June 24th.
Re-examined. The house was taken by him—I believe I always made the receipt out to the person who I received the money from—there were two quarters' due on June 24th—I had made application between Lady Day and Juno, not in writing—they were in the habit of
paying quarterly; that was the first time it had run into two quarters—I called on Mrs. Shillinglaw on 11th April, and did not get any rent, and on August 11th about 11 a.m.—I only expected to find the wife at home then.
NOT GUILTY .
32. RICHARD WADSWORTH (50) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Alice Watkins, his wife being alive; and ALICE WATKINS to aiding and abetting him in the same. To enter into recognisances to appear for judgment if called upon .
CHARLES EDWARD DOUGLAS . I am a schoolmaster, at Three Colt Lane, where the Union Jack Brigade holds its classes twice a week—I was there on the evening of October 27th, when the prisoner and Dunn, who are members, were there—the prisoner was sitting on Dunn's right; there were only three on the form—my attention was called to Dunn, who had fainted—I went up to him and thought he was in a fit; I found, him sitting in a pool of blood, and said to the prisoner, "You have stabbed him, you brute; give me the knife"—he handed me this knife, closed—I fancy he took it from his pocket—he said, in a. very morose and sullen manner, that he did not mean to hurt him—I told a boy to take charge of him, and took Dunn, into another room and wrapped up his leg—he was taken to the hospital, but lost a good deal of blood in the meantime—the prisoner was given into custody—the pencils were sharpened before school began; school had begun half an hour—the prisoner had only been in the brigade, about a month—I know of no quarrel between them, but I have heard from other boys that there had been threats.
HENRY DUNN . I am one of the Union Jack Shoe Black Brigade—on October 10th I was attending school at Three Colt Street, and sat on the prisoner's left—he pulled out a knife and pretended to sharpen a pencil, but it was sharpened already—the schoolmaster came round before he had time to do anything, and he shut the knife and put it in his pocket—he opened it again when the schoolmaster went by, and stuck it into my thigh, a little under the hip bone—I saw him make the blow—I put my hand to the place and found it full of blood—I said, "Do you know what you have done?"-—he said, "Yes, I know I have"—I said to the boy next me, "He has stabbed me," and then I fainted, and found myself next in the hospital—I was there a week, and am an out-patient still—I had had no quarrel with him—we do not work near one another—I cannot account for this—boys have told me that he has threatened me, but I never heard him.
ARTHUR ST. LEDGER FAGAN . I am house-surgeon to the London Hospital—on the night of October 17th Dunn was brought in, suffering from an incised wound on his right thigh, about an inch and a half deep and half an inch wide—it was not very serious of itself, but the loss of blood made it serious; the blade of this knife would produce it—he was a week in the hospital, and has been to see me two or three times a week since.
By the COURT. He has quite recovered now—the weapon must have
been used with considerable force, it passed through, his trousers, and the skin is very thick there.
Prisoner's Defence. We got playing together and larking; the corporal saw us larking together and threatened to report us.
C. E. DOUGLAS (Re-examined). The boys were exceptionally quiet and good that evening—I heard no misconduct whatever.— GUILTY of unlawfully wounding; strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his youth. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
ELLEN MADDEN . I live at 8, Half moon Court, Portpool Lane—on November 2nd, about 6 p.m., I had just left off work, and was walking up Holborn with a friend—the prisoner came out of a public-house with a friend, with a jug in her hand—her friend took the jug from her—the prisoner followed me and called me bad names, and struck me on my eye with a knife, and a second blow across my right ear; she also stabbed me three times on my head; and three weeks before she stabbed me—I was all over blood and gave her in charge—I saw the knife taken from her before the policeman came up—she said, "I will have your life before I have done with you"—the doctor said that the largest wound was three inches long—there is a mark left of the wound on my ear, and a large scar on my nose, and marks of wounds on my neck.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not spit in your face—we did not have a row—you also stabbed me in Leather Lane three weeks ago, and I did not prosecute you.
By the COURT. The quarrel was that she said I wished her young man might get seven years; I had not said that.
The Prisoner. You said it to my face.
THOMAS ALLINGHAM (E 222). On 2nd November, about 6 p.m., I was at the corner of Fulwood's Rents and saw the prisoner and prosecutrix and other girls quarrelling; I parted them, and they went away—about 7.15 I saw a large crowd in Holborn, and heard the prosecutrix scream, "I am being stabbed;" she and the prisoner were holding one another's hair, and the prosecutrix was bleeding profusely from wounds on her head and face; her right ear was cut half-way through, and there was a wound on her head two inches long; she had six or seven wounds altogether—she gave the prisoner in charge—on the way to the station the prisoner said, "I will have her b----life yet"; and on the charge being read, she said, "She is big enough and ugly enough to beat me; and if I used a knife, she could have done the same"—the prosecutrix was perfectly sober; the prisoner had been drinking, but was not drunk—I saw no instrument; I was pushed about by what they call the forty thieves—the prosecutrix was saturated with blood; these (produced) are some of her clothes—a doctor attended her at the station and dressed her wounds; they are healing now.
The prisoner handed in a written statement, saying that the prosecutrix spat
in her face, and that her friend pulled her hair, but that she did not use a knife— GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THOMAS HENRY LATIMER . I am a tailor, of 19, Store Street, Bedford Square—I sleep in a room at the back of the shop; they communicate by a glass door—on October 31st I returned home early in the morning, and a woman took hold of my arm and wanted to go home with me; I objected, and when she left me I was struck on the back of my neck by a man; a crowd surrounded me, but I got home, and on putting the key into my door, three persons tried to prevent my entering—I was struck again, and nearly sent into my shop—I got in, but left the key in the door, which I closed behind me; they tried to force it, but I succeeded in keeping it closed, and in my excitement I forgot the key—I waited in the shop half-an-hour and then went to bed, and forgot even to bolt the door—a little time after I had gone to bed I heard a noise in the shop; I sat up in bed, and saw through the glass door a light in the shop—I jumped out of bed and saw the reflection of what I took to be three men taking clothes down from the brackets and folding them up; I merely saw their shadows; I went to the private door, and saw the prisoner just escaping out of the shop, carrying these clothes—I followed him a long way up Gower Street, and kept him in sight—he halted and sat in a doorway, and I hid in a doorway on the opposite side—a policeman came and I gave him in custody; he had the clothes with him.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was perfectly sober—I had no drink with the woman, she was only with me a minute—I do not recognise you as one of those who struck me—there was no blind to the door I looked through—I was afraid to make an alarm, being single-handed.
JOHN BEARD . I am a cabman, of 21, Little Goodge Street—on October 31st, about 12.50 a.m., I saw the prisoner coming out of Mr. Latimer's, shop with a bundle; Mr. Latimer followed him—I saw the prisoner again at Tottenham-court Road Police-station—I also saw another man come out.
Cross-examined. I cannot swear to the other man; he came out some minutes before you, and went in another direction—I identify you because you were under the lamp.
JOHN SHEPHEARD (G 443). On October 31st I was on duty in Gower Street, and Latimer pointed to the prisoner, who was sitting down opposite with a bundle of clothes, and charged him; he had a coat and a pair of trousers—he said, "I know nothing about it."
Cross-examined. You were perfectly sober.
T. H. LATIMER (Re-examined). These are my clothes; they were safe in my shop that night.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he had been to a music-hall, and having had a lot of drink, sat down on a doorstep, and was woke up by a constable who charged him with stealing the clothes which were by him.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** in a conviction at Marlborough Street on April 7th, 1891.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 19th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
LIZZIE PHILLIPS . I am a tailoress at 19, Little College Street, Chelsea—on 30th September I was in the King's Road, and met the prisoner at the corner of Walpole Street at 12.30 p.m.—he asked me to go down Walpole Street—I did so, and he gave me two shillings—I had sixpence of my own in my hand besides—he wished to have his money back; I refused to give it to him—he then tripped me up with his foot, and I fell to the ground, and my head came in contact with the kerb—he got hold of my hat and tore it up—he took from me the two shillings he had given to me and my sixpence, and ran off, and I did not see him again till I identified him at the station.
By the COURT. I have been on the streets a little while when I have been out of employment—I was pursuing the calling of a prostitute at this time—the prisoner spoke to me first.
Cross-exaimned by the Prisoner. I live at a female lodging-house—I worked at the Army and Navy Stores up to last January—I was out of my employment when I met you—I did not see you again till I saw you at the station—I had seen you before, but never had anything to say with you—I did not tell the Magistrate that I saw you afterwards, but that you ran away.
ARTHUR HAYTER (B 568). I went to the prisoner's house between five and six p.m. on 29th October and told him I had received information that he had been robbing these women, and I took him into custody—Lizzie Phillips had made a complaint to me.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I have witnesses to show I was not there. This is a got-up job; I am innocent."
Prisoner, in his defence, denied any knowledge of the matter. He called—
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
ROSE STANFORD . I used to live at 19, Little College Street—I am a laundress—at twenty minutes to one a.m. on 15th October, I was coming down King's Road, Chelsea—I met the prisoner at the corner of Markham
Street; he asked me if ho might see me home—I said. "Yes"—we got half-way down Markham Street; he knocked me against the railings and I fell to the ground—he tore the pocket out of my dress; it contained a little purse with 3s. 0 1/2 d. in it—I screamed; he ran away—I did not see him again till he was arrested—I had never seen him before, but I had heard girls talk about such a man—I was with him about ten minutes on this night—I am quite clear he is the man who did what I say.
Cross-examined. I work in the Pimlico Road whenever I can get work to do—I have earned my living in the streets; I do not do so now—I walked with you because you asked me to let you see me home—all the women at 19, College Street are not prostitutes; there are working women there as well—I was not soliciting gentlemen on this night, I had been to see a friend, and was on my way home—I made no complaint of this to the police till you were arrested—as soon as we came into the station we saw you.
ARTHUR HAYTER (568 B). I arrested the prisoner on 29th October, in consequence of a statement made to me by the last witness, on suspicion of robbing these women—he said, in reply, that he had been in the neighbourhood at night; he frequently had had disputes with these women, but he had not robbed any—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. You did not tell me that one woman had a spite against you.
The prisoner called
SUSAN HENDRY . I am a laundress—I worked at one place for six years—I lived with you as your wife—you were with me at half-past twelve on the morning of 15th October; you were home all that week and did not go out—I am quite positive, because it was the first week I lived in those lodgings where I am now; you did not go out that week till the Saturday night—I came from the country on 7th October.
By the COURT. The prisoner did not go out on the evening of the 15th; he did not go out any evening that week—on the evening of the 14th he was indoors at 8 o'clock, and he did not go out.
The prisoner in his defence said that these cases had been got up against him to send him to prison.
ARTHUR HAYTER (Re-examined by the COURT). The prisoner was sitting in the reserve-room, by the fire, when all four women came in; the door was open and they saw him, and all exclaimed, "That is the man!"—that was the only identification.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner for similar offences, upon which no evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PAUL TAYLOR Prosecuted.
THOMAS LOVESAY . I live at 53, Bygrove Street, Poplar, and am a boiler maker—the prisoner lodged at the same house and slept in the same bed with me—on a Sunday morning, about seven a.m., I was in bed undressed, when the prisoner, who had been sleeping in the kitchen, came in with a walking-stick in his hand and said, "I have a good
mind I will pay you now; I have had it in for you for four or five weeks, and I intend to pay you"—I said, "Well, don't pay me now; let me get dressed"—I got out of bed and dressed myself; he stood alongside of me while I did so—when I was dressed I walked out of the room; he followed me, and when I got into the passage he struck me with some blunt instrument on the side of the head, and I fell down in the passage and was senseless—he knelt on top of me, and caught hold of an earthenware jar (which was against the door to keep it from slamming) and beat me about the head and face with it till he broke the jar in pieces—I don't recollect the landlord coming in, but when I came too I found the landlord in the room—I went to the Poplar Police-station; the sergeant then sent a policeman with me to the house, and I gave the prisoner in charge; he was then in bed, as if nothing had happened—I went back to the station in front of him—when charged there he said, "I have had it in for him for four or five weeks, and another, and I intended paying him"—I went home and got the blood washed off my head and face, and next day I went to the Poplar Asylum, where a doctor examined me—I remained there for eight or nine days as an in patient—on the Saturday night before this occurred was sitting in the kitchen about half past eleven at night, when the prisoner, who was not sober, came in—he knew what he was doing—he pushed up against me to cause a disturbance—I shifted my choir on one side to make room for him—he had this walking-stick in his hand—he said, "I have got it in for you, and mean paying you," and he shook his stick in my face—I said, "Don't shake your stick in my face—he gave me a smack with his fist—I said, "We don't want to have any disturbance in here;" and the landlady said, "I don't want any of my things broken," and she got in between us, and I went and sat down on a chair—she said, "If I were you I should go to bed," and I did so; and she persuaded the prisoner to stop in the kitchen—that was on the Saturday night before the Sunday on which this happened—I cannot account for his animosity against me—during the time we lodged with each other he said himself that I called him a pauper, but I did not do so—I did not know he had been in the workhouse—he told me he had been in the hospital.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You came into the room when I was in bed, and said that as soon as your leg got strong you would chastise me for saying you were a pauper in the workhouse—I did not jump out of bed and put my clothes on. and say, "Stop till I get my clothes on, and I will break your other leg;" nor did I say, "Come out into the back yard and settle it"—that is not true—I did not say anything—I did not fell you, you felled me—I did not kick you over the eye—I don't know what I was doing when I was senseless—I did not say that a young girl who came into the kitchen would get the rot if she had anything to do with you—I have not always tried to pick you up when you have said anything in the kitchen; I have tried to enlighten you—I did not see a hatchet.
ELIZABETH BUTLER . I the wife of Charles Butler, the landlord of 53, Bygrove Street—the prisoner and Lovesay lodged in our house—about half-past seven on Saturday night, 7th November, the prisoner came in the worse for liquor, and threatened Lovesay that he would do for him, and struck several blows with his fist—I got Lovesay to bed, and persuaded
the prisoner to stop in the kitchen that night; he did so—I did not see what took place next morning.
CHARLES BUTLER . I am landlord of 53, Bygrove Street, Poplar, and am a riveter—about seven a.m. on this Sunday morning my attention was attracted by a noise in the room occupied by the prisoner and prosecutor—I came outside in my night-clothes and stopped a short time; and thon I hoard a scuffle, having previously heard heavy threats—I tried to put my trousers on—I found the prosecutor on the floor, and the prisoner kneeling by the side of him, with one arm round him, and punching him with the other—I saw two blows given with his fist—my trousers were loose, and I could not lend a helping hand—I saw the prisoner with this hatchet measuring his distance;. the prosecutor was rather out of his reach; he turned the hatchet round, measured his distance, and made a blow; but the hatchet came in contact with the mantelpiece, which broke the blow, and I clutched the hatchet and dragged the prisoner, who got his arm round my neck, from his knees—I got a slight scratch in so doing—I went and tried to find a policeman, and was not present when the prisoner was arrested—there was a good deal of blood, blood on the brick fender and floor—the prosecutor's face was cut, and had scars, and was terribly bruised all over.
Cross-examined. Your arm was round him when he was on the floor, and he was helpless—the axe was standing in the corner—I said, "You dog! let the man get up; don't kill him "; and when I got you up you went to your bedroom and seized the water-bottle, and said, "I will settle the old b----yet"—I am certain you measured your distance, and crawled towards him with the axe—I said something to the effect that I should give you in charge.
ROBERT GOLDEY . I am the medical superintendent of Poplar Asylum—on Monday, 9th November, Lovesay was admitted as an in-patient—I examined him—he had a rather jagged wound, about three-quarters of an inch long, on the right eyebrow; three scratches, one on the forehead, another on the end of the nose, and the third just over the upper jaw—he had two black eyes—the left cheek was rather black down to the mouth; that was probably caused by a violent blow from the fist on the left side of his head was a clean-cut wound, half an inch long, which must have been caused by some sharp-cutting instrument—it might have been caused by this hatchet—the jagged wound over the eyebrow might have been caused by an earthenware vessel such as this was—he remained an in-patient until the 17th November—he was never in immediate danger, but there are remote dangers from erysipelas in all injuries of that sort in the head—I should say considerable force must have been used in inflicting the wounds.
Cross-examined. You were a patient of mine in September, and you had previously had a broken leg and been under me; in September it was more of a mental disorder you had; there was something apparently on your mind, but there was no physical disorder that I could discover.
By the COURT, He was not out of his mind; he appeared to have something depressing on his mind; he took his own discharge—this is a Poor Law asylum, not a lunatic asylum; he came with the usual admission order.
November the prosecutor took me to 53, Bygrove Street—the prisoner was in bed in the back bedroom—I should say he was recovering from the effects of drink—the prosecutor gave him into custody—I told him he would be charged with assaulting Lovesay—he made no reply—he dressed himself—on the way to the station he said, "I meant to do this some time back"—at the station he was charged by the prosecutor—when being conveyed to the cell he said, "I intended to do this some time ago."
Cross-examined. You had a mark, I believe, on the left eye when I took you; I saw one mark.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that the prosecutor struck him first, and that he, having a broken leg, struck the prosecutor in self-defence, and managed to get him underneath.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The JURY recommended him to mercy on account of the provocation he received and the depression of mind he was labouring under. — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, November 20th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
WILLIAM THOMAS HUME . I am a clerk to Barclay, Bevan and Co., bankers, of Lombard Street—on 15th October, about 11.30, I made up a letter addressed to the Lancaster Banking Company, and enclosed in it £165 notes of that bank which I had received from a Mr. Ellis—I sealed it and registered it—it was a printed envelope—I put it in a box by my side till about 3.30—there were eight other letters—I locked the bag, and gave it to Mr. Peacock about four o'clock.
BERTIE POCOCK . I am a clerk to Barclay, Bevan and Co.—on 15th October, a few minutes before four p.m., I received a bag from Mr. Hume; I took it to Lombard Street post-office, unlocked it and counted the letters; there were nine—I can swear that the letter to the Lancaster Banking Company was one of them—I gave them to Mr. Russell, and got his signature.
EDWARD JOHN RUSSELL . I am counter clerk at Lombard Street post-office—on 15th October I received from Pocock nine registered letters—this (produced) is my receipt for them—I deposited them behind me on a stamping table—I first found out the loss about 4.50, about forty minutes after they were received,
Cross-examined. I do not know the prisoner.
GEORGE ANTHONY HOLLAND . I am a sorting clerk at Lombard Street—on 15th October I was on duty between four and five o'clock—it is part of my duty to stamp the letters—I went to the stamping-table about 4.30—I found some registered letters, stamped them, and placed them on trays on a counter separated from the public by a screen—I
heard of the loss that afternoon—I discovered on the 24th that by pushing the screen you could make an aperture.
JAMES EDWARD BEDDOW . I am a counter man at Lombard Street—on the afternoon of the robbery I was on duty from four to eight—I went to the counter where the registered letters were, took them out of the tin, and entered them in the despatch-book, and discovered that the letter to the Bank of Lancaster was missing; I communicated that to Mr. Russell—search was made, but no letter was found—there was a space of about two inches under the screen; I heard that the screen could be pulled up.
WILLIAM SHARMAN . I am manager to Gaze and Sons, tourist agents, Piccadilly Circus—I recognise this note by the word Blackburn on the back of it; a man came in and asked me to change it one Thursday about 5.45p m.; I did so, and he left; I paid it into the chief office the following day—the man was in the office three minutes, he was in a great hurry; he jumped out of a cab, and said, "Can you change a country note for me?"—I said, "Yes; we usually charge 1d. in the pound"—he said, "I usually pay sixpence"—I said, "Make it sixpence"—nearly a fortnight afterwards Mr. Lawley fetched me to the Blue Posts; he kept me outside a little while, and then said, "Now come in, there's a lot: of people there, and the man you think is the robber is among them; I want you to look at them, and «ay if you see the man who tendered the note"—I picked out the prisoner—Mr. Lawley did not point him out in any way.
Cross-examined. The man who came to my place was an entire stranger to me—there was nothing remarkable in the transaction—an entry of sixpence was put into the book next morning—there is a screen to prevent people from putting their hands over the counter—I described the man as dressed in a dark coat with a tall hat—that is my belief—I said at the Police-court that I did not know what to say, and I would not swear to the prisoner—the man who changed the note was about the prisoner's height; a dark man, about 5 feet 7 inches high, with a dark moustache, and shaved at the sides—when he was arrested he had the slightest possible growth, two or three days' beard—he had no imperial on his chin when he was arrested—I do not think he had any hair except a dark moustache.
Re-examined. When I identified the prisoner in the public-house I had a very firm opinion that he was the man—he had then a few days' growth at the sides—he has a greater growth now—you can see through the screen; it is brass-work.
GEORGE GRANT . I am employed at Messrs. Gaze's office, 4, Northumberland Avenue—on 15th October, about 6.20 p.m., a man brought in a £5 Bank of Lancaster note and asked for change—I said there was a charge of sixpence for cashing it—he said, "That is all right, the usual charge"; I got the money from Mr. Graves, the head cashier, and gave it to him—the conversation lasted about three minutes—there is no screen in my office; I have a clear look across the counter—about 28th October I was taken to Bow Street, and picked the prisoner out from about a dozen men—I have not altered my opinion since—he has changed, but my opinion is unchanged.
Cross-examined. The man was a complete stranger to me—during part of the time I was taking the note to Mr. Graves—the man had a hard felt hat, not a tall silk one, and a fawn-coloured covert coat—he
was dark, with a black moustache, and about the same height as the prisoner—I have talked this matter over with Mr. Graves, and we both agreed that the man had a hard felt hat and a covert coat—I agree with the description Mr. Graves gave—we were just closing at the time, I was locking up the safe—the man had no hair on his under lip—the prisoner was in the middle of the men I saw at Bow Street, he was not looking particularly nervous—there were some men there not nervous—I saw a paralysed man, with a boy, charged with begging; two or three men looked as if they had been brought in for begging, and one who looked drunk and disorderly, and one who looked like a stevedore—those people were not a bit like the man I have described—I went along all the people, and came back along the line, and stopped opposite this man, who was in the middle—there were some dark mea there, and some near his height, but no man like him—when I went to the Police-court I did not know that there was a man under remand—I knew that a man had been locked up the week before, who was supposed to have changed some of the notes—I had not talked it over with Mr. Graves; we talked about his dress directly he had gone, and again next day, when I heard that the man I saw had been changing stolen notes; but we did not talk it over during the next fortnight—we were not too busy—I know nothing about £60 reward if the man was identified.
By the COURT. It was a quiet season for travelling—we are like Cook and Sons.
Re-examined. Mr. Graves was a temporary clerk; he left the following Monday week, so I had no opportunity of discussing it with him when I went to the Police-court—I had had no conversation with him since he left the office.
By the COURT. I heard the man speak when he asked me to change the note, and have heard the prisoner speak two or three times, and am assisted by his voice in identifying him.
By MR. GILL. I have heard him speak at the Police-court as he walked from the dock to the gaoler's room—he said, "Good-bye," or something of that sort—it was two or three words, to his mother—there are six or eight steps there—I have heard him speak again this morning.
ARTHUR SIDNEY GRAVES . I am employed at Messrs. Gaze's tourists' office, 143, Strand, the chief office—on October 15th I was acting as manager at the office in Northumberland Avenue, and Mr. Grant was acting as clerk—about six p.m. I was at the safe at the end of the counter, and he brought me a Bank of Lancaster note—I said, "There is a charge of sixpence for changing it"—he went back to the man, whe said, "Oh, it is the usual charge"—Mr. Grant came back for the change, and I gave him £4 19s. 6d., and saw him hand over the money—I had no conversation with Grant that evening about the man's appearance, we did not have a communication from the Police about the note till Saturday—the detective and I and Grant talked about the note—I next saw the man who, I believe, changed the note last Friday week at Bow Street; he was arranged with about a dozen men outside the cell, about the middle; I was told to be careful, and I walked up and down and pointed to the prisoner—this is my opinion still—he was in the office three or four minutes.
Cross-examined. I believe he is the man; I do not swear that he is—he was a dark man, with a black moustache and no hair on his chin—I have said, "I am certain the man had a fawn-coloured coat and a hard felt hat"—I also said he had dark trousers on, and was 5 feet 8 or 9 inches high—this (produced) is a fawn-coloured covert coat—his hat was what they call a bowler.
Re-examined. I was at the end of the counter, and could look right up.
By the COURT. I was as far from him as I am from the learned Counsel—I have heard him speak since he has been in custody; his voice does not shake my confidence, and it does not increase it.
NOE MEYER BAUM . I am manager to Messrs. Morgan, moneychangers, of 26, Coventry Street—I recognise these two Lancaster notes; we very seldom have Lancaster notes to change—on 11th October, about 4.45, I was having my tea, and a clerk named Hoppy called me—a person was there with some notes on the counter; I said, "Do you wish these changed?" he said, "Yes"—I referred to "Whitaker's Almanack" to see if the bank was in existence, and then gave him £9 15s. for them—that was the only conversation—a day or two afterwards I got a police notice that the notes were stolen—on 28th October I was taking some refreshments at the Blue Posts, and saw the prisoner there—I finished my refreshment, and then went back and spoke to Hoppy, who went over and came back and made a communication to me, and I telegraphed directly to the City police; in answer to it some one came, and I went with him to the Blue Posts, but the prisoner was not there—I saw him there next day at one o'clock; I went there with Mr. Lawley—I have not the slightest doubt he is the man who changed the notes—I have been four months in my place, and it was a month since I had changed a Bank of Lancaster note.
Cross-examined. If it is down in my depositions that I said, "I thought he resembled the party who changed the notes," I said so—that evidence was given when the matter was fresh in my mind—Hoppy communicated with the police by ray instructions—they came to us in the first instance with a notice—I did not hear till a fortnight afterwards that there was a reward—it may have been after that that I told Hoppy to communicate with the police—I knew on the 28th or 29th that there was a reward—I got a bill like this (produced) on the 28th, I think, in the morning, and sent Hoppy to the police about the middle of the same day after 1 o'clock—I have said, "It was a most ordinary transaction between us and the man who brought the notes"—I paid no particular attention to him, and away he went; I see a good many people in the day, and change a good deal of money—I did not notice an advertisement in the Telegraph of a reward—Mr. Morgan is not here—Morgans are a syndicate.
By the COURT. When I first saw the prisoner at the Blue Posts there were about twenty people there; but I think he was alone—I did not hear him talking to anybody.
FRANK HOPPY . I am a clerk to Morgans in Coventry Street—on the evening of 15th October I was sitting at my desk, which faces the counter—there is a little wire-work in front of it—I saw some one change two Bank of Lancaster notes—Mr. Baum spoke to him—he was there three or four minutes; I was about two yards from him—on 21st October,
about one o'clock, I went with Mr. Baum to the Blue Posts; there were about thirty people there, and when I had been there about two minutes I saw the prisoner, who I believe is the man who changed the notes—I first learnt on the Saturday that the notes had been stolen.
Cross-examined. I knew that from Mr. Lawley, two days afterwards—I first knew on the 28th that there was a reward; I saw it in the paper about a quarter to one o'clock—I went to the Police about one o'clock the same day—I gave no description of the man—I have no idea how he was dressed—knowing that there was a reward, at a quarter to one, I went and telegraphed to the City Police—I cannot say whether the man had a white hat on or a black one, or tall or short—I was adding up at the time—I had never seen the man before—I see about fifty people a day—there was nothing remarkable about the transaction; he handed in the notes, was handed the cash, and walked out—I had no entry to make of the transaction—I say to-day that the prisoner is the man—when the matter was fresh in my mind I said that I believed he was the man—I swear to him—I said before the Magistrate, "I will swear to him if you like"—I swear that there was wire-work in front of me, but not where I sat—there is wire-work a little way along—I did not say there was wirework to lead the Jury to believe I was looking through wire-work—there was also glass with a pattern on it, but I could see through it, and there is wood at the side—I do not know what it is for—I continued sitting at my desk, but I saw the man through the wire-work—the man did not pass my desk, he did not come so far—I had no occasion to look through the glass, but through the wire-work—I did not sit with my back to the door, nor was I facing it—the plan (produced) shows the counter—I sit on the right here (Marking the plan)—the door is at this end—straight in front of me is the glass—a man coming into the shop would not come so far as where I am—I have a view of the shop—there is a gas-light suspended from the ceiling—I looked at the man called Mr. Baum, and then continued my work—I can hear any person come in—I had not to look round; I looked through the wirework—there is ground glass at the side, with a pattern in clear glass; it is both engraved and ground—the man I saw had no hair on his lower lip—seeing the reward, had no effect on my mind in communicating with the police, Mr. Baum told me to do so—he charged five shillings for changing the notes—I had no conversation with. the man who came in.
Re-examined. There are two desks, one at each end of the counter, one is mine and the other Mr. Baum's, and there are two little pigeon-holes—I was the only person in the shop, Mr. Baum was having his tea at the back, and before I called him I looked at the man—I did not leave the desk—I said, "Wanted"—the door is opposite Mr. Baum's desk—I can from my desk see who comes in—the light is in the middle of the room—it is a gaselier with five burners—I do not expect any of the £60 reward—there is a room at the back of the shop.
MICKE JOHN DUGGAN . I am clerk to Messrs. Hugnands, money changers, of the Strand—on Thursday evening, October 15th, between five and six p.m., a man brought in these two Bank of Lancaster notes and asked me to change them; I did so, and charged him two shillings—I asked him to endorse them and he did so, "G. J. THOMPSON, 70, Tredegar Road, Lancaster"—I was behind the counter, and behind
wire-work—Inspector Lawley afterwards took me to Bow Street, where I saw eleven or twelve men, and picked out the prisoner from among them—I thought he was the man who changed the notes, but was not sure.
Cross-examined. I picked him out as looking pretty like the man, but said I had grave doubts about him.
Re-examined. I had grave doubts both when I picked him out and when I went before the Magistrate.
HAROLD WRIGHT . I am cashier of the Lancashire Banking Company, Lancaster—no registered letter arrived on 15th October from Messrs. Barclay containing 165 notes—there are no duplicates of those notes—I know no such place as Tredegar Road, Lancaster, and I called in a surveyor whe said there was no such place.
Cross-examined. 165 notes were stolen and about 45 have come in, but they have not come into our possession—45 have been paid, and we got a slip from our agents.
Re-examined. About six have arrived at the bank; they have come from banks.
JOHN DOUBLEDAY . I am a clerk in the confidential department, General Post Office—this matter was placed in my hands on October 16th—I examined the counter at Lombard Street, and it was some time before I could discover how the robbery took place—on 29th August I went to the Blue Posts on Inspector Lawley's information; Mr. Baum went with me—Lawley and Brooks were present—I first went in with Mr. Baum, and saw the prisoner standing at the bar, quite close to where we entered—after some moments I said, "I belong to the Post Office, and am making investigations into the theft of a registered letter containing 165 notes; you have been identified as cashing some of them; what do you say about it?"—he said, "You make a great mistake"—I gave him into Lawley's custody.
Cross-examined. I was present when Mr. Sharman came to the Blue Pos s—at that time the prisoner was being detained in custody—Lawley and Brooks were both there; Brooks was sitting or standing by the prisoner, who was detained there twenty minutes at the outside—there were about six men in the bar when I went in—Sharman and Hoppy came separately—when I spoke the prisoner said, "Ah, you have made a mistake—I was present when Lawley spoke to him—I heard him ask his name and address, which he gave correctly—the address was Gloucester Crescent—he was searched, and so was his place—the numbers of the notes were circulated the day following, before any reward was offered—the first communication I got from Baum or Hoppy was after the reward was offered—the notes are not numbered in series.
FREDERICK LAWLEY (City Detective Inspector). I have been making inquiries with regard to this robbery—a telegram was sent on the 28th, but I was away—on the 29th I went to the Blue Posts with Brooks and Doubleday—I had not been there before that morning, but I had been outside—the prisoner had been identified by Baum and Hoppy—I then went to Gaze's and fetched Mr. Sharman, who went in and made a communication to me—when I went in the prisoner was inside, and Doubleday said, "I shall give you in custody"—I have heard Doubleday's evidence and confirm it—I said, "I am a police officer; you will be charged
with stealing on October 12th Lancaster bank notes for £825; you have been identified as changing some of those notes on the evening of the robbery"—he turned to Doubleday and said, "You have made a mistake"—he was taken to the Post-office and then to King Street station, the charge was read over and he made no reply—I asked his address; he gave 58, Gloucester Crescent, his mother's house, and said he had been an antique furniture dealer, but for the last eighteen months he had been following racing—I went to the house, and his mother pointed out his bedroom—we Found nothing in it connected with the robbery; we found a racing satchel which we brought away on a second occasion.
Cross-examined. His mother is a highly-respectable person—Gloucester Crescent is in the Regent's Park—I was present when Brooks went to the house; every facility was given to us there—about forty of the notes have turned up since—I have traced them through banks to different race meetings, Plumpton and Newmarket; upwards of twenty since the prisoner has been in custody.
Re-examined. Every note that has come to hand has come through race meetings, through bookmakers.
FREDERICK BROOKS (G. P. O. Constable). I was present when the prisoner was arrested—I searched him and found £10 in gold, one penny, and a turf guide—I went to his mother's house and got this black bag (produced) from his bedroom—no obstacle was placed in my way—the bag appeared to have laid by for some time, there was dust on it—it has "Bell Firm" on it.
Evidence for the Defence.
FRANK GRESER . I live at 16, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, and am a hairdresser—I have been there three years—the defendant always came to my shop—I remember the last Cesare witch when Ragimunde Won—it was run on Wednesday, October 14th, and on the Thursday between 12.30 and 1 o'clock the prisoner came to be shaved—he used to come on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays—I shaved him on that Thursday, and cleared his face of hair except his moustache and imperial—I had shaved him in that way for three years—he came three or four times after that, and then I missed him, and heard that he had been taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I have been in this country four years—I know when the Cesarewitch was run, because I have a lot of customers, and they bet—I do not know when the other races in the year are run; I never bet—I have heard of the Derby, it is run in July—I never heard of the Oaks—I knew when the Cesarewitch was run, because the customers said there was a very big: race next day called the Cesarewitch—I do not know that he is Tzar of Russia—I have never heard of Ascot—Sandown is a very strong man—I have heard of Newmarket—I know about the Cesarewitch, because the customers told me—they never talk about the Derby, that is a miserable little race—I know the name of Newmarket, that is all—they gave me a lot of tips for the Cesarewitch this year; I did not take Ragimunde, I wish I had—I took a lot; I did not buy the field—the Cesarewitch was run on a Wednesday, but I do not know the date—the prisoner has come to me to be shaved ever since I started—he has never given me a tip; he has said, "It is much better you do not bet."
Re-examined. They gave me tips for the race, Victorious, and many others, but I did not back one—they spoke about there being a big race to-morrow, and I heard the day after that Ragimunde was the winner—that was the first time I had heard of Ragimunde—I am sure that on the day after the race I shaved this man as I had shaved him before.
HENRY STAVELER . I am a bookmaker, of Wolsey Villa, Barnes—I have been a bookmaker fifteen years—I bet as Henry Bell—I have been convicted of keeping a betting house; there is no other conviction against me, and when I was fined I paid it, as I usually settle—I am here on a subpœna from the Post-office; two gentlemen interviewed me and subpœnaed me—the Cesarewitch was won on October 14th by Pagimunde, and I met the defendant next day between 2.30 and 3 o'clock—that was the day of Middle Park Plate, which he spoke to me about and wanted to back Orme; I could not do it for him because I had enough on him—he left me to go and back it with somebody else named Donald—he returned in about a quarter of an hour and was with me as near as possible up to 5.15; we stopped at the Brewery Tap, Broad Street, Golden Square—we left there about 4.30 or 4.45, and went through Broad Street into Berwick Street, and I saw a man in a draper's shop there as we passed along—we went from there to Compton Street, and parted in Shaftesbury Avenue at 5.15—I went to Mr. Downey's shop and paid him £40 odd over the Cesarewitch, he came out with me, we had liquor, and he left me—I then walked with the defendant to Shaftesbury Avenue—as we passed the Lyric Theatre he left me to go to a Camden Town omnibus, and I took an omnibus on the other side of the road, for Hammersmith—that was at 5.15, as near as I can recollect—on the day after his arrest his mother came to see me, and I afterwards made a statement—there has been no concealment—my subpœna from the Post-office to come here was in the name of Superintendent Stroud; he is the man who can prove I have been convicted of keeping a betting-house.
Cross-examined. This is one of my tickets, "All in, run or not"—the defendant has made bets for me; he carried my satchel, and appeared for the Bell firm—he only bad an interest in it when he went to race meetings—my office is in Wardour Street—I have had it twelve months—that is the place I was fined for—I have never seen Greser, the barber, before—I do not recollect entering the Blue Posts on the Thursday the Middle Park Plate was run—I did not part company with the defendant between 2.45 and 4.30—we were at the Brewery Tap all the afternoon, and did not part company—I had the liquor with Downey, at a public-house in Dean Street, I don't know the name—Franks and the gentleman were there—Downey paid for the liquor on the strength of the £40—when I parted with the prisoner he said, "Here is my 'bus"—I walked across the road and did not see him get on it, he ran off—that was at 5.15.
WALTER NEWMAN . I am a working jeweller, of Poland Street—on the day after the Middle Park Plate I saw Franks from 2 o'clock to 2.30—I wanted to back Orme for the Middle Park Plate—I gave him the money—I was on the right one—I did not get much out of it—I gave him the money to do it for me.
Cross-examined. I saw him in Portland Road and Wardour Street—I did it on his own account, not for the Bell firm—I am sure of the day.
CHARLES ENSOLL . I am a draper's assistant, of Berwick Street—I know Staveler and the prisoner—on the day after the Cesarewitch I was standing at the door, and they came across and asked me how things were going—I said to the prisoner, "Not at all to my liking; I suppose you would have done well yesterday if the second one had got in first," that was Penelope, a mare—he said that he had not done well—it was about 4.45—I had just come back from my tea.
Cross-examined. I was speaking about my trade—the wet affects me in Berwick Street; it affects all classes—I knew Franks by sight—he was perhaps not quite as he is now.
Re-examined. His hair has grown at the side of his face.
JOHN DOWNEY . I am manager of a book establishment, 10, Old Compton Street—I was on the winner of the Cesarewitch, and on the next day, at five o'clock as near as possible, Mr. Staveler called and paid me £48 10s.—I have known him fourteen or fifteen years, and have often spoken to him in passing—I sent my son up to tell his mother to make some toast—Mr. Bell said, "We will have a drink"; I said, "Very well, look sharp"—we had a drink at. a public-house and I went to tea—I have never heard a syllable against the prisoner's character.
Cross-examined. I have a clock in the shop, but it was wrong; my watch was right—I know the time by the time I have to go to tea, and by my employer coming up—he comes at 5.30, and he had not come—we had the drink at the York Minster; I paid for it.
Re-examined. There is a boy employed at the shop, but he had hardly anything to do with it, there was nobody to leave there.
JANE FRANKS . I live at 58, Gloucester Crescent—the defendant is my son—he is, I think, thirty-eight years old—he has never before had any charge of any kind made against him—I was in business with my husband in Wardour Street many years—my son always lives at home, he has never slept out—on a Sunday in October the Jewish fast began, and on the Thursday in that week my daughter, Mrs. Marcus, came to see me—my servant let her in, and I let my son in at 5.40 or 5.45, because my servant had gone out for some oil—he had no latchkey, he never had one—he had his dinner at home and went out for a few minutes about 7.30 and bought a paper and stayed in the rest of the evening—Mrs. Marcus came at a few minutes to six and was in the room while he had his dinner.
Cross-examined. The fast began on Sunday, that was the Day of Atonement; my son was not at home all that day, he was at the synagogue, and came home in the evening—on the Monday night he saw a young lady home, and came home and went to bed—on Thursday. he was at home all the evening; he was out in the middle of the day, but came home in the afternoon—on the Wednesday he was at home in the evening; he is always at home every evening; we dine at 5.30—he was at home every evening that week and the next week—he has never asked for a latch-key—I knew that he put a shilling or two on in betting—I did not know he was doing business for the Bell firm—I have retired from the business in Wardour Street—he has been helping his sister since that, she is in the furniture business; but he has not helped her all that time, only now and again—he has not been in the racing business.
lives in the house—I remember the Sunday in October that the Jewish fast began, because it was the only Sunday I had stopped in for the last seven weeks—I went out on the Wednesday evening, and next day, Thursday, when I was going to light the lamps I had not oil enough, and went out to get some at 5.35 p.m.—when I came back I rang the bell and the defendant let me in; he had pot home while I was out—Mrs. Marcus came that evening about six o'clock and stayed some time.
Cross-examined. My custom is to go out on Sunday—I stopped in for them to take the fast—I stopped in all the Day of Atonement, and on Monday evening I stopped in with them—on Tuesday I was indoors, on. Wednesday evening I went out to see my friends—the defendant was at home every evening—he came home about 5.30 or 5.45—I fix the night when I ran short of oil because it was early closing night in Camden, Town—I got the oil and got home at 5.45 by the kitchen clock, which is generally right—I wound it up.
Re-examined. I did some shopping when I went out on Wednesday—I brought the things home in a handkerchief and an apron.
SARAH MARCUS . I am the wife of Barnard Marcus, a tailor, of 7, Oakley Square, Camden Town—the prisoner is my brother—on Thursday, October 15th, I went to see my mother—I had tea at home before I went—I got there at a few minutes before six—my brother was at home having his dinner when I went in—I stayed till about 8.45—he had those clothes on, and a tuft of hair on his face and a moustache—he went out about 7.30 for a few minutes; except that, he was at home all the evening.
Cross-examined. I fix the day as Thursday, because on the Monday I was not very well, and I had an appointment to meet my doctor on Tuesday morning, and I never left the house till Thursday evening, when my husband told me my mother had an attack of neuralgia again, and I went to see her—I did not hear of the oil running short.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, November 20th, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. I'URCELL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
MR. ROOTH was instructed by the Court to defend, in consequence of the prisoner being too deaf to hear the evidence; the question having been put to him, in writing, whether he wished to be defended by Counsel, to which he was understood to assent.
GUILTY of the attempt. — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, November 21st, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
ARNOLD LEIGH PEMBERTON . I am a clerk in the Filing Office of the High Court—I produce an originating summons in the matter of Re Hubble, Turner, and Caldecott v. Cooke, dated 19th August, 1887—it was issued by Messrs. Mann and Taylor, New Oxford Street; also an affidavit in the same matter purporting to be sworn on 29th August, 1887, by Henry Turner. (The perjury alleged was in the eighth and ninth paragraphs of the affidavit, which alleged that he was entitled to certain property which had been assigned to him by the beneficial owner, Eliza Caldecott.)
GEORGE ALLEN . I am a solicitor and a commissioner to administer oaths, of 17, Carlisle Street, Sohe—this affidavit was sworn before me on 29th August, 1887—I find my signature and initials on it—the initialings would imply the alterations were made before the affidavit was sworn—I administered the usual form of oath—the entry in my call book is "From Messrs. Mann and Co., affidavit"—no alterations were made in the eighth and ninth paragraphs.
Cross-examined. I do not read the affidavits sworn before me—affidavits of this kind are invariably prepared by solicitors—I do not agree with a Chancery Judge whe said the Commissioner should make himself master of the matter sworn—affidavits are sometimes ten or twelve pages in length—I fix the date by the jurat—the Mr. Leach mentioned in the suit was my clerk—he left me to better himself at a music printing business—he was very respectable—I believe he has done well
ELIZA WILKINSON . I am the wife of James Wilkinson, of 12, Bassine Park Road, Shepherd's Bush—my maiden nauao was Eliza Hubble—I am the daughter of Charles Hubble, who died in 1868—in August, 1887, my name was Eliza Caldecott—I have been married twice—I am the defendants wife's sister—Caldecott, my husband, died twelve months ago last June—the prisoner and his wife, my sister Ann, have been married more than twenty-seven years—I was present at their wedding—I had seven brothers and sisters; they were all at his wedding—my eldest brother, John William, died in 1881; he left six children, who are now living—my next sister in age, Charlotte Sarah, became Mrs. Bowns, she died in 1888; she had one child, a girl, who is still living Mrs. Bowns' funeral was at Limehouse; Mrs. Turner was present, the prisoner was not; another sister, Mrs. Stevenson, was present; the next in age was William Hubble, he is a witness; the next was Thomas,
who died in 1883, he left no children; the next was Caroline, Mrs. Stevenson, she is a witness; the sixth in age was Ann, the prisoner's wife; the next was Charles, he married and left three children, they are now living; ho died many years ago, before 1887—I am the youngest of the family; I never had a sister Elizabeth or Betsy—none of my sisters were known as Betsy; all the survivors were present at my brother John's funeral, at Aston, in 1881; the prisoner was there; my brother William came from Wales to attend it—Thomas's funeral was at Aston, the five survivors were present; the prisoner had the management of it, William was not there—I had a nephew, Charles, he was for some time in Glasgow, he was the son of Charles; he was staying with my sister at Christmas, 1886, and January, 1887, for three weeks; he then came and stayed with me—my two sisters, Mrs. Bowns and Mrs. Stevenson, met me at Mrs. Turner's to see my nephew, as we had not seen him; we talked about his father, who had been dead many years when they were quite young—Charles was told of other uncles who had died—in April, 1887, the prisoner brought me this paper to sign—he said it was to authorise him to act on my behalf, and was only a matter of form—it related to the estate—I knew that the houses were in Seymour Place and other parts of London—the prisoner said he would go and see what he could do—I never read the document—this is my signature—I did not see the seal on it when I signed it. (Dated 2nd April, 1887, and assigning the witness's share in the property to the prisoner for £25)—I never agreed to that—I never received any money; it was never mentioned—he came late at night—he took it away after I signed it—he came to me about two or three months afterwards with his nephew, Mr. Leach, and asked me to sign this paper, for Mr. Leach to act instead of him, as he would understand and Know how to manage the property better—I never read it—this is my signature—this looks like the prisoner's signature—there were no signatures and no seals when he brought it. (This was a deed of 22nd September, 1887, between the prisoner, the witness, and Joseph Haynes, a solicitor, reciting the will of William Hubble, that the witness and the prisoner's wife Ann were the only survivors entitled to a share under the will, and that the witness had assigned her share to the prisoner; and witnessing that in consideration of £150 paid to the prisoner, at witness's request, he assigned his interest to Haynes, who covenanted to indemnify him and her from all costs in the Chancery administration suit of re Hubble.)—I saw the prisoner lots of times since signing the deed—I asked him if he got any money; he said no, and that the estate was worthless; he had spent a lot of money and would not spend any more, and he owed the solicitors, Mann and Taylor, £9 for costs, and if I went there I should know—I did go—I went with the prisoner two or three times to look at a house in Seymour Place, once last July—I conversed with the man who bought the lease of the house, and that is how I got to know what the prisoner had done—after my interview with Mann and Taylor this prosecution was commenced—I also saw Mr. Haynes' partner, Mr. Claremont—we spell Hubble with two b's, but one cousin spells it with one—I have heard my father and mother say there were two b' s—my brother William was in Wales thirteen years—he came back in October, 1885, his wife having died in December, 1884—he then lived with me—that was the first time I had seen him since John's funeral in 1881—the signature
Henry Turner to the affidavit is the prisoner's—also the endorsement of this cheque.
Cross-examined. The prisoner married my sister Ann twenty-eight years ago—they have had several children—he was then a carriage upholsterer—she was a housemaid in service—my father would have been entitled to all William Hubble's money if he had lived, because the others were dead—I never knew Aunt Charlotte—I knew I had an Aunt Charlotte—I heard she married a Mr. Lucas—I do not know all the relations—it is so difficult—I do not know when Aunt Charlotte married—nor when she died—nor what children she had—nor where she lived—I know I had an Uncle Thomas—Aunt Charlotte cannot be living, because I do not know—I would not undertake to say her children are not living—Uncle Thomas married a widow with two children—I believe they were Barbara and Henry—she had no other children—I know that from my mother telling me—I do not know that Mrs. Lucas and Charlotte were the same people—I think Uncle Thomas lived in a gentleman's service at Acton—I do not know when he died—his wife died first, and the lady he lived with took the two children—my mother went to inquire, and was told she need not look after the children—my father had eight children—I do not know other Hubbies with the same Christian names as my brothers—my brother's son was William Hubble—he went to Tasmania eighteen years ago—he is dead—I say I ought to have the proceeds of the house—I know what one house was sold for—I was told it was £491—Mr. Claremont did not say none of us were entitled to the money—he told me he paid £150 for my sister and £150 for me—he did not say that money would not be parted with because we were not entitled to it—I have never heard that he said it—the prisoner was married first; then my brother William, twenty-seven years ago; then myself, twenty-three years ago—the prisoner was present at all three weddings; so were a great many relations and friends—my father did not sign his name with a cross—I never saw him write—my brother who went to Wales could not write; his wife used to—Thomas and John lived at Acton, Caroline and Mrs. Stevenson at Hammersmith—I lived at Brighton, Charles at Bermondsey, I think, but I did not see him after my marriage—I heard he was dead—I do not know when he died—Ann was in service with my eldest sister when the prisoner courted her—Charles was only twenty-seven when he died—Mrs. Bown's child is still living—I believe John's widow is living—I lived at Brighton with my husband, Caldecott, ten or twelve years—the prisoner visited us, not often, three or four times in the twelve years—I have left Brighton thirteen years—I have seen the prisoner since then every fortnight or three weeks—I went to see my sister—he has come to see me with my sister, but not so often as without her—we have always been on most intimate terms—when at Brighton I used to write to Ann—the prisoner was a licensed victualler for twelve months—lie kept the Princess Victoria, 55, Robert Street, Hampstead Road, when I summoned him; he is not the landlord now—I had been there two months—I stayed there with my sister, and he took me to see the house that had been sold, but I did not know it was sold—I did not go to see him again afterwards—we parted on the best of terms—I liked him very much—Leach, whom he wished to act for me, was employed by Messrs. Allen;
I know now—he is now in business—I always thought him respectable—I am no more entitled to the £150 than the others—if I had got it I should have shared it—the question of the Court was how much each was entitled to—if Ann had more than her share she ought to give it up—if I had more I would give it up—I did not take out the summons to get the money; I wanted it—I had to keep my brother six years, and it is very hard—I summoned the prisoner to make him pay—he has another house in Islip Street—my husband is a policeman—I did not take advice—I married Wilkinson recently—my brother-in-law was at the wedding—we were good friends—he had no objection to my marrying a policeman—I said at the Police-court, "All I want is my money. I am entitled to £150 if defendant's statements are correct"; and, "If he had paid me that amount I should not have prosecuted him"—that is true; I should not have troubled, but the others might—he would have to stand the racket with the rest—I dropped my claim to £130 and costs—I have not seen Ann since the criminal proceedings.
Re-examined. My sister-in-law received a letter of my brother John's son William's death, who went to Tasmania—six of John's sons are living now—I communicated the fact of the nephew William's death to the rest of the family, including Mrs. Turner—that was before 1887—I did not intend to keep the £150 if I had got it, but to divide it.
WILLIAM HUBBLE . I live at 12, Bassine Park Road, Shepherd's Bush—I am the brother of the last witness—I am not living with her—I am the son of Charles Hubble, the only brother living of eight children, beneficiaries under the will—I know the prisoner well—I was present at his wedding with my sister twenty-five or twenty-six years ago—I went to Wales after that wedding—I was in Wales for about twelve years—I married in Acton before that—I came to London from Wales once to look for work—I was present at my brother John William's funeral in 1881—my brothers and sisters were present—I forget whether the prisoner was there—I went back and stopped in Wales till about twelve months after my wife died—I came to London in 1885—I went to live with my sister, Mrs. Caldecott—I worked at Acton—the prisoner brought me to London—on the way he wanted me to sign a paper to say I was the only brother living, and had got no sisters, and that I was the only member of the family left out of eight—I refused—he gave me no reason for that—I lived away from my sister soon afterwards—I have never been to Tasmania nor across the water; no further than Wales.
Cross-examined. I did not know there was anything to take under the will—I knew Aunt Charlotte as Mrs. Lucas—I knew she had children—I knew my Uncle Thomas—he married a widow—I cannot keep anything in my mind hardly five minutes—I believe Uncle Thomas had two children, Barbara and Henry—I cannot recollect whether he had more—I cannot spell my own name—I have heard my father say Hubble—I cannot write—I was sent to school, but I was a bad boy, and stopped away.
Re-examined. I have seen Aunt Charlotte's children in Acton—that is my father's sister's children, within the last three years, Liddy and Betsy—Betsy can't be Elizabeth—I remember those of the family who are dead, and those who are scattered all over the "shop."
prisoner many years—I was at his wedding—he was at my brother John's funeral in 1881—he would know my brothers and sisters there—I saw the prisoner at my brother Thomas's funeral in 1883—he superintended it—all my living brothers and sisters, except William, were there—my sister Charlotte, Mrs. Bowns, died in 1888—I went to her funeral—Mrs. Turner was there, and Mrs. Caldecott—I saw the prisoner once about 1887—I came from Glasgow to Mrs. Bowns' funeral—I have not seen he prisoner since 1888—I have seen his wife at my place; not often before 1887—I saw him at Chelmsford Street.
Cross-examined. During the last twenty-five years I cannot say how often I have spoken to the prisoner—I saw him at my brother John's funeral—William was there—I have seen him at my brother Thomas's funeral; also at his place.
ALBERT EDWARD HUBBLE . I live at 10, Routledge Avenue, Earlsdon—I am a son of John William Hubble, one of six children interested—my brother went to Tasmania; he died there about ten years ago—I know the prisoner—I saw him at Thomas's funeral in 1883, with others of the family—I have not seen him since.
Cross-examined. I was twenty-six in October—I took a message of my father's illness in 1881, asking the prisoner to come and see. father, as he was not expected to live; and he came—I went to a private house in Kentish Town—I visited the prisoner with my father and brother before that—I have visited at his house several times when I was a boy, with my father—I could not give you the address in Kentish Town—I have visited him when many others were present.
Re-examined. William, who went to Tasmania, was my eldest brother—I have not seen him in the prisoner's company—I have not spoken to the prisoner about him, I was very young when ho went away—the prisoner has not spoken to me about him much.
THOMAS JOSEPH HARTSHORNE . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Mann and Taylor, solicitors—I produce a cheque drawn by my principals in favour of the prisoner on 7th October, 1887, for £130—it has been endorsed and paid—also a draft of the affidavit which was engrossed in the form produced—the prisoner came to the office several times about the matter—once I took a note of what passed—I have it, dated August 27th, 1887: "Attending you on your calling, reading over your affidavit," supposed to be filed in support of administration, "when you said you would see our Mr. Mann, as it was not worded as you wanted, and you did not want to have anything to do with Mrs. Cooke"—she was the executrix of Francis Cooke, the defendant in the administration suit—the draft was handed to the prisoner—speaking from memory, he read it, I believe—my impression is it was read out—I had no communication with any person other than the defendant.
Cross-examined. I only saw Messrs. Haynes and Claremont on the return of the originating summons—I should meet their managing clerks probably—Turner was our client in other business—one action was his son's accident case—I had not given a brief in this case, I was subpœnaed in this Court—my entry was put in before the Magistrate—Mann and Taylor are not now acting for the prisoner—Mr. Shaw first communicated with me about this case, I think the day before he called on me with the subpœna, the day before the first Police-court—the day before the summons was returnable I think I did not show Mr. Shaw the
documents—I knew the prisoner was married into the Hubble family—Mr. Mann prepared the affidavit—I should say it was dictated—I said before the Magistrate, "It was dictated by Mr. Mann to a shorthand clerk who is not with us now"—I had not forgotten that—looking at the affidavit I told the Magistrate it appeared to have been dictated by Mr. Mann—I said, "Mr. Mann has made some alterations in it" and "The defendant will have to make inquiries as to his wife's family," and "My impression is I handed the draft to the defendant"—I say that now—I do not know who took him to be sworn—a record would be made, but it would not say which clerk took him—I did not take it.
JOHN PIDSLEY MANN . I am one of the firm of Mann and Taylor, solicitors, 109, New Oxford Street—the prisoner consulted us in August, 1887, with reference to the originating summons produced—I wish to know if the prisoner's privilege in this case prevents my answering questions relating to what transpired between us?—it was confidential.
MR. BODKIN submitted that, according to The Queen v. Cox and Railton [Cox's Criminal Law Cases, vol. xv. p. 611] the privilege did not extend to a case where a client had a criminal object in view, or where he consulted the solicitor before, not after the commission of a crime, for the purpose of being assisted or helped in committing it. The COURT held that the communication between the witness and the prisoner was privileged.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WALLACH Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
KETLER DARINSKE (Interpreted). I am the wife of Anton Darinske—on 26th October, about 10 p.m., I bought a pint of paraffin, and afterwards went with my husband in a public-house—as I left to go to my home in St. George's Terrace I saw my husband fighting with another fellow—I knocked the fellow down with the bottle of paraffin—the prisoner took me by the neck and threw me on the ground—I lost 10s. 5d.—it was in my pocket.
Cross-examined. The fighting took place in a dark court—a number of people were fighting together.
Re-examined. I am quite sure it was the prisoner who attacked me—this is not the purse I lost.
Cross-examined. I was not fighting—I was outside the kerb—I was at the end of the dark passage, about two or three yards off.
RICHARD EASTERBROOK (H 67). I was sent to 32, St. George's Terrace—I went to the underground kitchen about 12,45 a.m.—I found the prisoner lying on the bed, dressed, except his jacket and cap—I told him the charge against him—he said, "I know nothing about it; I saw them all fighting together when I was coming down the court"—I told him he would have to go to the station—taking him out from the passage to the door I saw him pass this purse to a young woman—I caught it and said, "What is that you have taken from the
prisoner?"—she said, "It is my parse that I lent him just now" [The purse produced to the prosecutor].
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Saturday, November 21st, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. BAYLISS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
The prisoner stating in the hearing of the JURY that he would PLEAD GUILTY to an unlawful wounding, the JURY found that verdict. The prisoner received an excellent character, and great provocation was stated to have been given by the son upon whom the wound was inflicted.— Fined £10.
MESSRS. POLAND, Q.C., and CLUES Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY Defended,
After the case had commenced, the prisoner stated that he was sorry that he had sent the letter, and desired to withdraw the statements contained in it, upon which the JURY returned a verdict of GUILTY .— To enter into his own recognisances in £200, and a surety for £200, to appear for judgment if called upon, and to keep the peace.
49. ROSE BARNARD (32) , Feloniously setting fire to the dwelling-house of Arthur Barnard, he and others being therein; Second Count, setting fire to certain clothing in the house under such circumstances that if the house had been set fire to she would have been guilty of felony.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended,
CHARLES OWEN (Sergeant H). On 1st November, Sunday morning, about three o'clock, the prisoner came to Shad well Station and said she wanted to charge herself with setting fire to the house No. 7, Ann Street, Ratcliff—she said she had an occasion to reprove her "youngest daughter by slapping her face at 11.30 last night, when another daughter, named Rose, punched me in the face and head, and then fetched her father home, whe said, 'It served you right,' and shoved me on to a chair; shortly afterwards they all went to bed; that was about 11.30 p.m.; I then waited till they were all asleep, and unbolted the doors; I then went into the washhouse and got half a gallon of paraffin, which was in a stone bottle, and took it up into the bedroom, first floor front room, and poured the paraffin on to some cloths; I then came downstairs into the kitchen. I wetted some paper with paraffin, and placed it on the mantelpiece in front parlour; also put some paper saturated with paraffin on the mantelpiece in back parlour. I then went up into front room with a box of matches, and set light to the cloths. I then took up the child, Sophia Barnard, who was in bed, threw a coat around her, and took her downstairs, and threw the lamp and matches into the firegrate in back parlour, and sat on the corner of a sofa for about half-an-hour in the dark; the child then commenced crying. I told her to call
her sister to take her to bed again. I then put her down in the room, and believe the youngest daughter fetched her. I then went out and waited outside the gate."—I read the statement to her; she said it was quite correct—I formally charged her.
Cross-examined. She was calm, not excited—she was a little excited just at first—when she had sat down she became calm.
ROSE BARNARD . I am the prisoner's daughter—I live at 7, Ann Street, Limehouse—there was some dispute on this evening—at two o'clock on the Sunday morning I woke up and saw some cloths on fire in the room—they were saturated with paraffin, and were by the side of the fireplace in the upstairs front room—I got out of bed and put a piece of carpet over it and tried to put it out—then I went downstairs—all the doors were open—I saw a cloth saturated with paraffin in the front parlour, and paper saturated with paraffin in the back parlour, and a cloth in the kitchen—I saw my mother sitting on the sofa in the back parlour; she had the youngest child—a paraffin bottle was on the table in the corner—she told me to take the light out of the room, or else she would set fire to the lot—I don't know what she meant by the lot, unless it was the other cloths that were saturated—I went out of the room then—she said she would go and lock herself up—the cupboard upstairs was just scorched—my two sisters, brother, and father were asleep in bed in the house.
Cross-examined. I don't know what the cloth on fire was; it was doubled up, and I cannot say how large it was—I raked it under the grate and saw it there—I hit my mother in the face that night, when she threw china ornaments at my sister—I did not punch her more than once—I have been at home and done no work for five months—my mother has continually wanted me to go out and work—we were not both rather angry this night—I am not good-tempered when I am put out—I was not going to see her throw things at my sister—my mother did not say, "If you don't take the light out it will set fire to the lot, as the place is saturated with paraffin—she did not call me out and ask me to put the fire out—I woke up myself, and afterwards woke my sister—this was not the first time that there was a dispute between me and mother—there might have been faults on both sides.
By the COURT. My mother had had a drop to drink earlier in the evening.
HENRY ROTHWELL (H 296). I went to this house—some cloths were handed to me—they were saturated with paraffin—under the grate in the top floor front room I found some ashes saturated with paraffin—they were swept up under the grate—in the back room on the ground floor I noticed some paraffin spilt on the floor and table, and a lamp lying in the grate—the cupboard door had been charred; it had just caught.
Cross-examined. The cupboard door was painted, and the paint had blistered, and I believe it had fallen off all round where it was charred—I suppose those cloths (produced) would be used as dusters.
CHARLES OWEN (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). The prisoner was sober when she came to the station—I had seen her several times before—as far as I know she is an honest, hard-working, respectable woman.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, November 21st, 1891.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUTTON and MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
THE COMMON SERJEANT having examined the prosecutrix as to her belief in a future state of rewards and punishments, directed her to be sworn, although the committing Magistrate had not allowed the oath to be administered to her. MR. GEOGHEGAN claimed the right to examine her on the voir dire. MR. LAWLESS contended that the voir dire was for the COURT alone. The COMMON SERJEANT having consulted with the RECORDER, ruled that it was entirely in the discretion of the COURT; but as the RECORDER stated that he would not have allowed her to be cross-examined on the voir dire, he would not allow it The witness was then sworn and examined, but in cross-examination afterwards she stated that an oath was "a bad word." The JURY subsequently stopped the case.
The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
MARY ANN GLOVER . I am the wife of Charles Glover, of 27, Lillie Road, West Kensington—the prisoner lodged in my house seven weeks; she came in May, and gave her name Lady Louisa Hill—I thought the was a lady of title—after some time she offered to buy my furniture—I was still to pay the rent and taxes, and she was to give me £60 for the furniture—I was to hand over the house to her with the landlord's consent—on Whit Sunday I went to Eastbourne for the day; and on the next Tuesday I think, I left her and my daughter in charge of the house, and gave the prisoner £11 10s. to pay my rent, instead of paying it myself, as she wanted to see the landlord about taking the house off my hands—she was in my confidence—she brought me this receipt. (For £11 10s. for a quarter's rent, this was torn, and only the "en" of the supposed word "eleven" was left.)—my husband was away at that time—some time after that a distress was put in for the rent, and I sent my little daughter with the receipt to the agent, and received information, and these proceedings were taken.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I left my brother there, but did not leave him in charge of the house—I did not count the money on Wednesday and find I had only £4 10s. left, nor did I buy with it a dress for myself and a pair of shoes for you, and some stockings; every word of that is false—I gave eight shillings for this skirt out of money which my husband gave me—while I went to Eastbourne you opened two boxes belonging to people who have gone to Germany, and dressed yourself in the clothes—I did not ask you to borrow money for me from a lawyer.
this receipt, and I took it to Messrs. Goodall and Chappell—the distress was not put in then, but it was threatened—they called at my mother's.
MRS. GLOVER (Re-examined). The brokers were in.
CHARLES GLOVER . I am the husband of the last witness—I was at East Grinstead and received this letter, which is supposed to come from the prisoner—I do not know her writing—she afterwards showed me this receipt, and said she had paid the rent, but I do not remember whether she referred to the letter—after she left the brokers were put in for £20 10s. due in June, I think—we thought the £11 was paid, but were sued for that quarter and the fresh quarter—I sent £11 10s. and £1 property-tax, which was £12 10s.
RICHARD GOODALL . I am clerk to Messrs. Rogers, Chapman and Thomas, of 8, Witherby Terrace, Earl's Court, they are agents to Messrs. Lewin and Co.—I produce the counterfoil of this receipt, it is for £4 10s., which was paid to me—I do not recognise the prisoner, but she acknowledged that she paid me the money, and that I gave her this receipt—it has been altered, I do not spell four "fouer," I think it has been altered to "en" for "eleven," but it has been very badly done.
By the JURY. This (produced) is a copy of the receipt I gave; I said particularly "on account of a quarter's rent"; that is what has been torn off.
Cross-examined. I have not seen any letter from Mr. Rose Innes; if it had come it would have been handed to me.
The Prisoner produced a written statement which she partially read; it stated that her husband having left her, she took a situation at the German Exhibition at 30s. a week, and lodged and boarded at Mrs. Glover's, who was always the worse for drink; that Mrs. Glover only gave her £4 10s., which she paid to the agent. NOT GUILTY . (See page 28.)
OLD COURT.—Monday, November 23rd, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
KATE BYRNE . I live at Haydon Street, Starch Green—the deceased, Mary Jane Byrne, was my mother—I believe she was a widow—she had been living with the prisoner for twenty-one years—she was about fifty years of age—I last saw her alive on 5th October, at St. Mary's Hospital—she died on the 8th—I saw her after death.
ROBERT MUMFORD . I am a boot salesman, of 22, Swinbrook Road, West Kensington; I occupied the first floor—the prisoner and deceased occupied the rooms on the second floor; they were there before I came, I moved in at Easter—on the night of 30th September I went to bed in the front room about ten—about an hour or an hour and a half afterwards I heard a noise of quarrelling and scuffling proceeding from their front room—I heard the deceased's voice saying once or twice, "Don't
kill me"—I could hear the prisoner's voice, but not what he said; he spoke in a very muffled tone; this continued off and on till about eleven or half-past—I then heard a noise of quarrelling, and as of a body being thrown down on the floor; it was then the woman called out, "Don't kill me"—I then heard someone come out of the room on to the landing; I could not say exactly who it was, it sounded like the prisoner—the person then went back into the room, and I heard the key turned in the door—about ten minutes after I heard a woman screaming in the street, and I heard a thud in the area—I got up and dressed, and went downstairs, and saw the deceased lying there, groaning—I ran off for the police, and returned with two constables; one of them went upstairs and came down with the prisoner to the area; and I heard the prisoner say, "Ain't you dead yet?" or "You ain't dead yet"—he was then taken away by the police.
Cross-examined. I began to get up and dress directly after I heard the first disturbance—I was in my room till the deceased fell into the area—there were other people in the house, and as far as I know another lodger went downstairs—I made no communication to other people before she fell into the area—I was in my own room all the time.
By the COURT. I was by myself—I had no one to communicate with—it was no new thing to hear such disturbance overhead.
HENRY HOUGHTON . I live at 22, Swinbrook Road, on the ground floor, the room has a bow window—I was at home on the night of 30th September—about half-past eleven I heard a disturbance on the top floor; it seemed a kind of scuffle—I first heard the prisoner using bad language, and the woman screaming, and I heard the smashing of crockery or china, as if something was knocked over—I heard somebody come out on the landing; there was more than one person—I heard the woman screaming, "Don't kill me!" she said that more than once; that seemed to come from the landing—I next heard a kind of scuffle, or as if somebody was being dragged across the room, and I heard the prisoner say, "Out of the window you go"—he said that two or three times—I then heard the sound of the window being opened, and the woman scream, and then I heard a thud as of somebody falling in the area—up to that time I had been in bed—I then got up and went to the front door and looked over the area railings, and saw the woman lying on her back on the stones there, and I saw a constable—the prisoner was brought down, and afterwards taken to the station.
Cross-examined. I was in bed in the back room—I first heard the prisoner as he came in halloaing about the stairs, and then he went into his room, and commenced knocking her about—the woman screamed, and I heard the smashing of crockery—I had a young brother aged fifteen in., the room with me, he is not here, he is weak-minded—when I heard the prisoner say, "Out of the window you go," I was out of my room, my door was open, and so was theirs; I could hear the words quite distinctly.
By the COURT. I could hear the sound of blows and the woman screaming in the scuffle.
SARAH ANN SMITH . I am a widow, living at 24, Swinbrook Road, next door to 22; I have lived there some time—I knew the deceased by sight—I did not know anything of her, only just speaking to her once or twice in the back garden—on the night of 30th September, about eleven, I heard
a noise of quarrelling at 22—my rooms are on the first floor—I heard the prisoner swearing and using bad language to the deceased; she was saying to him "Oh, you beast! oh, you brute! Leonard, don't kill me"—he said, "I am a b----man who can do something, I will show you"—something about a public-house; I could not hear what public-house—he was screaming murder, and I went down into the street to see for a constable; not seeing one I went back indoors—all seemed quiet for a little while—I then heard a further noise—I had my window open, and could hear plainly, and I heard the woman crying out of her window in distress, "Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh!" and I opened my window and saw her coming out of her window—she was fully dressed—she was coming out backwards; I saw her feet and body first, I could not see her hands then, they were in the room; she gradually let herself out, and held on to the flower-box, which was outside on the window-sill—I called out to her to go back and I would fetch some one to her—I did not see the prisoner—she gradually let herself down; she first let go her right hand, then her left, and she dropped down on to the roof of the bay-window of the parlour—when I first saw her she was like kneeling on the flower-box—the roof of the bay-window is rather sloping towards the street—I said to her, "For God's sake, woman, don't do that!"—she said she could not stand it any longer—that was said just as she was kneeling on the flower-box; I spoke to her as soon as I opened the window—when she dropped from the bay-window she came down right on her feet; she stood quite upright on her feet, on the top of the bay-window—I said, "Do try and hold on there a minute, I will get some one to you"—she said, "I can't"—and then she staggered backwards off the balcony and fell in to the area on to the stones; it looked to mo as if she went straight down on her feet; her hands were both stretched out as she fell—I screamed and ran out into the street—I did not 'go down into the area till after a young man came—she was then sitting on the window-sill—she was quite conscious; she was bleeding from her hand and her head—she asked to be laid down, and we laid her down in the area—after a time the constables and a doctor came, and she was taken away in an ambulance—before she came out of the window I heard they were quarrelling, and some things were knocked down, and she was screaming murder.
Cross-examined. I think it was about half-an-hour after I first heard the quarrelling that I saw her at the window—I had my window open when I heard the cry of murder—their window was not open when I went into the street to look for the police.
WILLIAM DAVIES . I am a grocer, of 48, Swinbrook Road—I knew the deceased as a customer—on 30th September, about ten minutes before midnight, I heard a scream in the road—I ran down and saw Mrs. Smith on the doorstep of 22—she said something to me, and I went down into the area, where I found the deceased sitting on the window-sill; she was moaning, and seemed to be in great pain—the police came, and the prisoner was brought down—the constable asked the deceased if she would recognise her husband if she saw him; she said, "Yes"—the constable pointed to the prisoner and said, "Is that your husband?"—she said, "Yes, take him away"—the prisoner said, "You are not dead, then"—the doctor asked her how she came by the
wound on her head—she said, "He struck me on the head with his fist"—the prisoner said nothing.
Cross-examined. I did not speak to him, he was with the police in the area; I did not notice whether he was the worse for drink; I did not notice him particularly.
JESSE BETTS (X 309). About ten minutes before midnight, on 30th September, I heard a woman screaming in Swinbrook Road—I went there and went down into the area of 22, where I found Mrs. Byrne lying—she made a complaint to me; I fetched the doctor—the prisoner was afterwards brought down, and she said in his presence, "He struck me on the head with his fist, and I got out of the window of my own accord to escape his violence."
FREDERICK HUNT (X 492). I went to 22, and in consequence of what was said I went up to the second floor front room, the door was open—I went in and found the prisoner there, he had his coat and waistcoat off and one of his braces; he had been drinking, but was not drunk—the windows were closed and the blinds drawn—there are two windows to the room—the prisoner said, "Well, master, I suppose you are come after me?"—I said, "Yes, I shall charge you with assaulting your wife"—he replied, "Yes, I know I have done wrong, but it is all through jealousy"—I noticed spots of blood on the bed, sheet, and pillow-case; they were wet—I asked the prisoner how he accounted for that—he said, "I don't know; it is there, you see"—I said, "Be quick and put on your things, and come down to see your wife"—he said, "No, I don't want to see her any more"—I took him down to the area, and in his presence and hearing I asked her if she could recognise her husband if he was pointed out to her—she said, "Yes"—I then said, pointing to the prisoner, "Is that him?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "Did he throw you out of the window?"—she said "No, but he locked the door and threatened to murder me, and I got out of the window to escape further violence"—the prisoner said, "What, have you come all this way, and not dead yet?"—she said nothing to that—he then said, "I am only b—sorry you have not finished the job"—the prisoner locked his rooms before I brought him down, and handed me the keys.
Cross-examined. I did not take a note at the time of what he said—I trusted to my memory.
FRANCIS JAMES WAITE (Inspector X). About half-past one on the morning of 1st October I was on duty at the Harrow Road Police-station when the prisoner was brought there by Hunt—while Hunt was telling me the circumstances the prisoner said, "She said she would jump out of the window, but I did not believe her, as she said it many times before"—I told him he would be detained while I made inquiries at the hospital—he was afterwards charged with assaulting the woman and causing her grievous bodily harm—he made no answer—on 5th of October I went to 22, Swinbrook Road, to the second floor front room—I had possession of the keys from the time the prisoner was searched—on a table in the room I found a piece of rag stained with blood, and upon it were some grey hairs—I saw the deceased at the hospital, and the hairs corresponded with hers—I found some broken crockery and glass in the room—the things in the room did not seem upset at all or in any disorder—there was some supper on the table, and some broth in a pannikin in the fender—on 6th October I received a letter from Mr.
Curtis-Bennett, in consequence of which I went to Holloway Prison, and the prisoner was handed over to my custody about ten minutes to nine—in the cab I told him that his wife was dangerously ill, and that I was taking him to St. Mary's Hospital; that the Magistrate would be there, and that her statement would be taken, and he would have the opportunity of saying anything to her—he said he was very sorry to hear it—I said I hoped she would be alive when he got there; when we arrived there, and the Magistrate had come, the woman being in bed and the prisoner standing at the foot, the deceased was sworn, and the Magistrate took down her statement; I do not recollect what she said; she was very feeble—she died on 7th October; the prisoner was then charged with manslaughter; he said nothing.
FREDERICK JOHN ORCHARD STEVENSON . I am house-surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital; the deceased was brought there about one on the morning of 1st October—I examined her—she had on the head a lacerated wound about 4 1/2 inches long, concentric in shape, reaching down to the membrane covering the bone—there was a lacerated wound on the left hand, and also on the right buttock, the edges of that wound were lacerated, it was between three and four inches deep, and the bone at the bottom of it was broken—one of the small bones in the leg was broken, and the knuckles and back were very much bruised—there was a plaister on the right side of the chest—I did not notice any reason for that at the time—there were appearances of a black eye—the bruises were all recent, except the black eye—on 6th October she was in a critical condition, and I sent a message to the police—she died on the evening of the 7th—the cause of death was lockjaw, brought on by these wounds; I cannot say for certain which wound it was; there was a post-mortem examination—the spine was fractured; that might have been sufficient to cause the lockjaw—the wound on the head could not—a fall on some projecting ledge would have done it all the injuries might have been caused by that fall.
GUILTY of manslaughter.
GUILTY of indecent assault. — Six Months' Hard Labour.— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 23rd, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SYMONS Prosecuted.
LENA HAMMERMAN . I am the prisoner's wife—I have been living with him at 4, Albert Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on Saturday, 17th October, I was drinking with Harry Schroeder in the Kettle and Drum—my husband came in there late in the evening, and asked me to go home with him—I left Schroeder, and went with him as far as the Paviors' Arms, and then we had a drink outside that public-house—he again asked me to come home—I refused, and said I would do as I liked—I remember being with some more sailors, and in fact I had been drinking from ten o'clock in the morning till this happened, and I do
not really remember what happened till I found myself on Sunday in the hospital, being treated for some wounds—the doctor said I had been stabbed.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I left you in the night-time—I don't remember anything, I was so drunk; I cannot remember what occurred while I was with these men who were drinking—I don't remember if you said your nose was bleeding in the afternoon.
SARAH PRICE . I am single; I live at 9, Albert Street, Shadwell—I was with Mrs. Hammerman all day long on this day, and we were drinking very heavily all day with seafaring men, and both of us were the worse for drink—we were having drinks with Harry Schroeder in the Kettle and Drum when the prisoner came in and had a few words with his wife, that it was wrong of her to be getting drunk with me, and that she ought to be home—Schroeder got up and walked out—there were a few words about Mrs. Hammerman and Schroeder—we went together to the Parlors' Arms and had a drink, and I left them comfortable to go home—Schroeder went away, and did not join us at the Paviors' Arms—the next thing I recollect about the matter is that a little after eleven I heard the screams, and ran out, and saw Mrs. Hammerman in the street, just outside the public-house where we had been drinking, being put on the stretcher—I did not see the woman stabbed—I don't remember what I said before; I had been drinking all day, and I was so drunk I did not know what I did say—I ran after her—the prisoner and his wife went out of the public-house before me—I do not recollect how long they had been out before I heard screams; it must have been a tidy while.
ALICE GOLDSTEIN . I am married, and live at 3, Albert Street—on the night of 17th October I went into the Paviors' Arms at ten minutes past ten, and I saw the prisoner and his wife drinking together; a young man with them whom they called Bill paid for the drink—I noticed no more till I heard the policeman's whistle—I could not say if they had been further back in or outside the public-house—they were two compartments from me—I was perfectly sober—the next I saw was Mrs. Hammerman lying in blood in the street, about twelve yards from the Paviors' Arms, with a crowd of people round her—she asked me for some water, and I sent for soma water, with a little brandy in it, and gave her a drink; she could not swallow it—I wiped with my apron the clotted blood from her mouth, and I then gave her a second drink, which ran right out through the wound in her throat—I sent home for some towels and bound up the wound as well as I could—three or four policemen were there when I got up—she was put on to a stretcher and taken to the hospital—the prisoner was not there—I saw no more of him after I saw him in the public-house till I saw him at the Police-station—it was half an hour or a little more after I saw the prosecutrix in the public-house that I saw her in the street bleeding
ANNIE HOGAN . I am married, and live at 6, Russell Court, Shadwell—the prosecutrix is my sister—on Saturday, 17th October, she said something to me, and about ten minutes or a quarter to three on the Sunday morning I saw the prisoner standing close to the Paviors' Arms, and close to where my sister's throat was cut; I saw the blood—I said, "Jim, Lena's dead; what made you cut her throat?"—he said, "For drinking with Harry Schroeder"—the policeman took and showed him
where the blood was, and he said he knew they were looking after him.
Cross-examined. You did not say, "She has nobody to blame for it but Susan Price and Harry Schroeder; she has been drinking with them all daylong"—I said she was dead, because I concluded she was when I heard her throat was cut and saw such a lot of blood, and my mother told me she was dead.
CHARLES STONE (H 299). Early on Sunday morning, 18th October, I saw the prisoner standing at the corner of Dello Street, about sixty-four yards from the Paviors' Arms, with Annie Hogan and another woman—I was standing close by at the corner of Chancery Place—I heard Hogan say to the prisoner, "Well, Jim, you had, better give yourself up first as last, for you know you did it"—he might have replied, but no answer was made so far as I know—I walked up and said to him, "Are you the husband of the woman that has been stabbed?"—he said, "I am; I have just heard of it, but I know nothing about it"—I took him to Welley—I had seen the prisoner the previous evening about twenty-five minutes to twelve, near the same spot, in company with a female; I cannot say positively if it was his wife—Hogan might have had a little to drink, I could not see that she was the worse for drink.
JOHN WELLEY (H 429) I came up on this night just as the prosecutrix was being put on the stretcher—she was smothered in blood, and a large pool of blood laid alongside the ambulance where she was picked up—she could not speak at that time—a doctor arrived a few minutes after my arrival; the ambulance was stopped, her wound dressed, and she was taken to the hospital by three or four other policemen—I remained there on duty till about three o'clock, when Stone brought the prisoner to me and said, "This is the husband of the injured woman"—I said, "Are you the husband?"—he said, "lam"—I pointed to the pool of blood, and said, "Your wife is taken to the London Hospital, I shall take you into custody on suspicion of having caused the injuries to her"—he said, "I have just heard of it; but I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station—I searched him there, and found on his right wrist several spots apparently of blood—I said, "This appears to me to be blood"—he said, "If you say it is, perhaps it is"—there were one or two marks on his chin that appeared at first to be blood, but they were caused by tobacco juice—afterwards the inspector looked at his arm, and said, "That is blood there"—the prisoner said, "Yes, that was caused by my nose bleeding"—the inspector looked up his nostrils and said, "That is nonsense"—his coat was taken off, and given to the inspector.
Cross-examined. I did not say at the Police-court that you said, "If you say it is blood, perhaps it is"—I was not asked.
MICHAEL MCCOY . I am a divisional surgeon—on this morning, at 4.30, I saw the prisoner—on his right wrist were three marks of dry blood, on his right coat sleeve nine or ten dry spots, on his left coat sleeve four or five spots, on the front of his coat two or three spots, and one spot inside—I should say they were four or five hours old—I noticed his hands were particularly clean as if they had been recently washed.
Cross-examined. I think I said at the Police-court that the stains might
be six or seven hours old; they were dry—I have no recollection of saying they might be twelve hours old. (The deposition contained the words: the blood on the coat would hardly have been more than twelve hours' old at the most.)
By the JURY. I could not tell if there was any possibility of these marks being caused by his nose having bled, because there was no sign of blood about his nose—the blood looked more as if it spurted than dropped on the sleeves; it seemed to have spurted all over his coat.
ARNOLD HUBERT MILLS . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—at a quarter past twelve a.m., on 18th October, the prosecutrix was brought to me—she had a cut four inches long near the top of the head, a stab just under the left eye, a stab in the left side of the lower lip, going through to the tongue, which was just touched (a small punctured wound), a wound under the jaw in the middle line about two and a half inches long, and one inch deep, but not going into the mouth; a cut about one and a half inch long on the front of the right forearm, and another on the back of the right hand—the stabs were about half an inch long, and would have been caused by such an instrument as an ordinary clasp-knife—she was discharged from the hospital on 22nd October; no permanent injury was done—no vital part was touched, but she had lost much blood; there were six wounds altogether.
Cross-examined. She said, "It is a shame of him to do it"—I don't remember her mentioning any name, but she was in a maudlin condition—no name was mentioned in her hearing.
By the JURY. She was an out-patient after she went out on the Thursday; she has quite recovered now.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I know nothing at all about it."
The prisoner in his defence, said that he left his wife outside a public-house, as she wanted more drink, and that he did not know how it had occurred.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. The JURY strongly recommended him to mercy on account of the strong provocation he had received from his wife.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in November', 1885.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended.
The JURY in this case could not agree, and was discharged from giving a verdict. Further hearing of the case was postponed to next Sessions.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 24th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. FORREST PULTON and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. MORESBY Defended.
arrested the prisoner on another charge outside Maiden Railway Station—he had this bag in his right hand—a man named Edwin Smith was with him; he immediately ran away towards Richmond, and I have not seen him since; I have a warrant for his apprehension—I took the prisoner to Maiden Police-station—I left him there and went to No. 1, Oaklands, Acacia Road, Maiden, and there found Mrs. Smith, the wife of the man Smith, in possession of the house, and three small children—I had known her before—I searched one of the bedrooms on the ground floor, and in a drawer of a chest of drawers I found a quantity of papers, amongst them three cheques in this sealed envelope—I opened it at once, on it was "Honble. W. Ashburnham, Subscription Rooms, Knightsbridge"—there were other papers in the drawer, also sheets, collars, handkerchiefs, and ties—I did not And anything in the other drawers—hanging behind the door in that room I found the coat which the prisoner is now wearing, and in a cupboard a pair of trousers belonging to him—by the side of the chest of drawers I found this portmanteau, and in it some papers, partly written in shorthand and partly in longhand—I afterwards went back to Maiden Police-station and said to the prisoner, "I have been and searched your rooms"—he said, "Which rooms?"—I said the two rooms on the ground floor"—he said, "My room is on the first floor"—about four or five hours afterwards I searched the prisoner at Rochester Row station, in London, and found on him a purse containing £34 in gold, English and foreign, a ten-dollar piece, a twenty-franc coin, three ten francs, £29 9s. 5d. in English money, a gold watch and chain, this pocket-book, and one or two other little articles; in the pocket-book, under the date of 21st September, is this entry. "Four Voll £3;" and on September 21st, "From Club I had £49;" also on 22nd, "Paid landlady 5s.;" and underneath, "Sunday £2."
Cross-examined. I went to Acacia Grove, because on the previous Wednesday, 23rd September, I had followed the man Smith's wife and children and some luggage from 213, Carlton Villa, West Kilburn, to No. 1, Oaklands, Acacia Grove—I searched all the rooms in the house—the room on the ground floor was pointed out to me by Mrs. Smith as the prisoner's room—I know that Smith is the man who forged these documents; Mrs. Smith is the wife of the man who is suspected of doings it—I did not mention the portmanteau before the Magistrate, nor about the prisoner's coat—the trousers I recognised as the prisoner's—I did not say before the Magistrate that I found them in the drawer—this particular pair I found in the cupboard—there were trousers in the drawer—I said at the Police-court that I saw the prisoner wearing this particular pair in the dock when he was convicted two years ago—I have seen him wearing them many times—I found the memorandum-book in his pocket—when I arrested him he did not attempt to conceal the bag; he had it in his hand in the ordinary way—there were no documents in the bag—I don't know that the bag was his own; for all I know it might have belonged to Smith—he said nothing about it or its contents.
Re-examined. I saw him wearing these trousers several times between 25th June, 1889, and 25th June, 1891—he was provided with trousers from another source.
By the COURT. I searched the other drawers, they contained clothing, and a quantity of new things; nothing to indicate that they belonged to
the prisoner—there were no women's garments in that room—in the first floor bedroom there were two boxes which I had seen in the possession of Smith and his wife as I followed them from Carlton Villa—at that time nothing was known of this charge.
JOHN HOLLAND CROFT . I live at 2, The Oaklands, Acacia Grove, Maiden—on 1st September I desired to let No. 1 furnished—the prisoner and the man represented by this photograph, whom I knew as Everard Smith, came—I don't think the prisoner gave any name—the rent of No. 1 was to be £6 a month—this document was written out and signed by Everard Smith in the prisoner's presence. (This stated that he was willing to take the house for six months from 22nd September)—Smith paid £3, the prisoner paid £3—they entered into possession of the house on Wednesday, 23rd September—I saw the prisoner there once, that was on the Friday, 25th, I think—Smith's wife stayed there for about a fortnight, and then I got possession of the premises again—I did not see Smith after the prisoner's arrest.
Cross-examined. I saw Smith about twice—I could swear to his photograph—the first time I saw him was about half-past six, between daylight and twilight, and the other time was about nine o'clock; they were at their supper—they did not take the house jointly—I do not know which were the prisoner's rooms, they arranged that between themselves—I lived next door—I did not see Smith and the prisoner coming in and out, I don't know how often they were in the house—I never saw Smith nor the prisoner with a bag, to my knowledge—when I heard of the arrest I said the sooner Smith's wife was gone the better, as they had injured me considerably; I could not force them out before the month.
WILLIAM ASHBURNHAM . I live at 30, Dover Street, Piccadilly—I have a banking account at the St. James's Square branch of the London and Westminster Bank—these documents, 1, 2, 3, 9, and 10 are not signed by me, nor by my authority. (These documents were read: A cheque on the London and Westminster Bank, for £200, payable to Mr. James Webster; a cheque of 21st September, for £150, payable to self or bearer, both signed W. Ashburnham; a letter, "Please to send me three £50 notes" and an envelope)—no part of these documents is in my handwriting—I found, on Tuesday, 29th September, that my account had been debited with these cheques, 9. and 10, for £200 and £150—I occasionally use forms like this, which I get at White's and other clubs; the only difference is, that the forms I use have no woven-in stamp; I put on a penny stamp—I have seen the envelope addressed to me at Tattersall's Subscription Rooms—I have no address there, and am not a member—I never have letters addressed there—I never saw the prisoner until I went to the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I believe you can buy these cheque forms at any stationer's; it is quite a common form—I have no reason to believe that my habit of using them is well known, or that it would be known by Smith or the prisoner—I know nothing of the prisoner.
By the COURT. It is quite clear that the bank thought this was my signature.
whom I cashed it—I cashed it upon the signature as a genuine signature, in three £50 Bank of England notes, Nos. 36658, 35659, 35660, dated 16th January, 1891—this other cheque is on our branch, it came through the central office, and was cashed at our branch—it bears what appears to be Mr. Ashbumham's signature—his account was debited with both those cheques.
Cross-examined. I should say the £150 cheque was cashed in the afternoon—I never saw the prisoner before to my knowledge—I don't believe he was the man to whom I gave the money—I do not connect the prisoner with the £200 cheque.
By the COURT. We have no other customer named Ashburnham, except the gentleman who has given evidence.
Re-examined. The £200 cheque was sent to us by our principal office; it came through some person having an account.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am note inspector of the Bank of England—I produce three £50 notes, Nos. 35658 to '60, dated 16th January, 1891—on the back of each of them is "J. Devereux, Langham Hotel"—35658 and 35659 were paid in on 24th September by the London and Westminster Bank, and 35660 was paid in on 26th September by Lloyds' Banking Company.
NELLIE FISHER . I am married, and live at 36, Shirley Road, West Kilburn, and let out part of it in furnished apartments—the prisoner lodged there from 12th August till 7th September, occupying one room, a bed and sitting room—during that time Smith, the man represented in this photograph, visited the prisoner at my house nearly every day; I think there was only one day he was not there—sometimes he remained some hours, sometimes only a short time—no one else visited there—I knew the prisoner as Mr. Anderson—I went into his room most days when Smith was there—sometimes they were reading, sometimes writing—I noticed on the table a copper plate, with the name on, and a quantity of money lying on the table, sometimes as much as £40 or £50 in gold and silver—I saw money lying about on most mornings when I took breakfast in—I never saw money lying about when Smith was there—this bag was left in my possession to take care of when the prisoner went to Paris, and he said to me it was full of valuable papers and money, and he asked me to take care of it; if my house should catch fire I was to run for the bag—he was away about three days in Paris, about the end of August, I think—he left my house on 7th September; I said another day before the Magistrate, but I could not remember then, and have since taken it out of my rent-book.
Cross-examined. I saw them both reading and writing: Smith was writing as well as the prisoner sometimes—I am quite sure this was the bag the prisoner gave me to keep—I do not know whether it was his more than Smith's; it was left with the prisoner's luggage, given to me as his bag; it was the only bag I saw there—Smith had no bag as well; I saw the bag with the two men—the initials on the bag are not the initials he gave me—any money I saw on the table was before 7th September.
By the JURY. He gave his name as Mr. Anderson, not as William Anderson; the "W. A." was on the bag at that time.
South Lambeth Road—about 3rd September I received this letter in this envelope; in consequence of it I subsequently received at my house certain letters addressed W. Ashburnham, which were called for by among other persons, to the best of my belief, the man represented by this photograph; I could not say for certain it was that man—I was shown a number of photographs at the Police-court, and I picked this out as being the man to the best of my belief—the person did not live there, but only called for letters.
Cross-examined. I am quite clear it was not the prisoner; I never saw him till I was at the Police-station.
JAMES WEBSTER . I am a turf commission agent, late of Calais—in September last I carried on my business there—in the course of post, on 5th September, I received this letter, with a cheque for £200, endorsed—I executed certain commissions for the writer of the letter—I have an account at the head office of the London and Westminster Bank, and I remitted this £200 cheque to that bank after my clerk, who has my procuration, had endorsed it—my account was duly credited with the amount—subsequently on 11th September I received this letter in the same handwriting as the first one, and in consequence of its contents I remitted to W. Ashburnham, 220, South Lambeth Road, my own cheque for £150, which represented the balance, after I had paid myself for losses, commissions, and so on—in due course I was debited with the £150.
Cross-examined. I never saw my client to my knowledge—I taw the prisoner, I think, for the first time at the Police-court.
FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . I am an expert in handwriting—I have had submitted to me for the purpose of comparison a cheque for £200 on the London and Westminster Bank; two cheques for £150, one of them honoured, a memorandum of agreement with Mr. Croft for the tenancy of No. 1, Acacia Grove, signed Everard Smith; an envelope addressed to W. Ashburnham, Subscription Rooms, Tattersall's, Knights-bridge; a letter directed Mrs. Frayer, Temperance Hotel, 41, Blackfriars Road, purporting to be signed by W. Ashburnham; two letters to Mr. James Webster, dated 4th and 11th September, purporting to be signed W. Ashburnham; three bank notes for £50 each, bearing on the back the signature, Deveroux, Langham Hotel, and a number of documents, some portions of which are in shorthand—I have examined all these, together with a memorandum book containing writing—I know the prisoner's writing—to the best of my belief this bundle of longhand writing is his; it is the same writing as that of the memorandum book—the agreement for tenancy, the letters and the bodies of the cheques and the signatures W. Ashburnham on these blank forms, are all in Everard Smith's writing—the writing is disguised from Smith's writing.
Cross-examined. All the forged documents in this case are written by Smith; I am most positive; they are all in the same writing as the agreement written by him—I do not connect the prisoner with any of those forgeries.
Twenty Years' Penal Servitude on the first conviction (page 28), and Seven Years on the present indictment, the sentences to run concurrently .
MESSRS. FULTON and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
MARIE WOOLDEN . I have lived with my husband at 31, Chalcott Crescent, Regent's Park, four months—it is the prisoner's house, she lived there with her husband and a child Winifred, about sixteen months old, which she treated very kindly—on November 5th, about 10.20 a.m., her husband called out to me, and I heard her and the child screaming—I went part of the way downstairs from my room, and saw the prisoner and her husband at the bottom of the stairs; she was in her night things with an ulster on; she had the child in her arms, which was bleeding from its throat, and her husband said, "Oh, Mrs. Woolner, come down, she has cut the baby's throat"—she took the child into the front room, and her husband went for a doctor—I stood in the doorway, and she said to me, "I did it because he wanted to take the baby from me "(referring to her husband), "Why did I do it? Why did I do it?"—the child was taken to the hospital, it was alive then.
Cross-examined. She has frequently spoken to me about a child of hers which died; she appeared to harp a good deal upon it—I often heard her crying—I went in fear in consequence of her appearance.
HENRY DEARING (S 481). On November 5th, about 11.15, I was on duty "and was called to 31, Chalcott Crescent, and found the prisoner on the first floor front, sitting on a couch with a child in her arms—a doctor was examining it, and it was removed to the hospital by his order—I said to the prisoner, "Who did this?"—she said, "Oh, what have I done?"—I took her to the station, and then examined the back room, and found this razor on the dressing-table, open, and stained with blood, and there was blood on the sheets—while I was taking her to Holloway Gaol she said, "I did not know I cut my child's throat till I saw the blood"—as we entered the gaol she said, "Oh, my God, what have I done?"
CHAPPLE HODGSON FOWLER . I am house surgeon to the North-West London Hospital—on November 5th a little child was admitted, suffering from a wound in the throat; it died an hour afterwards from the wound.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer in charge of Holloway Prison—the prisoner has been under my observation since her admission on November 5th—I knew that she was charged with murder—she was very depressed, and crying bitterly, and appeared to have no remembrance of what she had done; she told me she did not remember anything till she saw the blood, and she seemed dazed and bewildered, and complained of continual pain in her head, and tenderness when she was touched on her head—I kept her under observation, and have come to the conclusion that she is not responsible for what she has done—I do net think she is capable of distinguishing the nature or character of her acts.
HENRY CHARLTON BASTIAN , M. D. I am physician to University College Hospital, and have had large experience in mental diseases—I examined the prisoner on Saturday and yesterday—I think she was suffering from a sudden attack of maniacal frenzy on November 5th—I think she was not responsible at the time she committed the act.
GUILTY, but not accountable for her actions. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 25th, 1891.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted, and MR. BOOTH Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoner stated that he was willing to PLEAD GUILTY to unlawfully wounding, upon which the JURY found him GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. He received a good character.— Ten Days' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Monday, November 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, and 30th, 1891.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. SYDENHAM JONES Defended.
JOHN MOORE . I live at 5, Ossulston Place, Somers Town, St. Pancras—on Saturday, 17th October, I was in the Sadler's Wells Theatre—I left at ten, or a quarter past, with Sessions, who came out behind me—no one else was with me—I was crossing the road when someone knocked my hat off, and then the prisoner stabbed me in the head; I saw him do it—I did not see anything in his hand—there were others with him—I am quite sure he was the one who stabbed me in the head—I also received a stab in my left shoulder, one in my left side, two in the back, one on the left arm, and one on the right arm—I remember the prisoner taking the knife out of my head and stabbing me in the side—I saw him do it—I had not seen him before that night—neither he nor I said anything—I ran into John Street; some gentlemen took me into a chemist's shop—I was at the hospital eleven days—I gave information to the police some time afterwards, and when I came out of the hospital I went to the Police-station and saw the prisoner standing alone, and I recognised him—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I went to the theatre about a quarter to eight—I was not in company with a gang of Somers Town boys—I went with Holloway, and was with him all the night; I met Sessions there—there was no noise in the theatre when I was there; I could not say if there was a disturbance, I was in the bar—our party was not turned out—I could not say who was turned out—I was in the gallery; I noticed no disturbance—I did not notice Brown attacked by someone, and there was no row with sticks or straps—I had no one in my company when I left the theatre; I met no one when I came out; there was no row there—I did not notice the Somers Town boys attacking the Clerkenweil boys—I saw a lot of boys outside, I could not say who they were; I did not know their names; there was no row, or attack, as far as I saw—I had only had two glasses that evening—I vomited at the hospital; I reckon that was from the cuts—I was not the worse for drink—I daresay Sessions had had drink, I cannot say—I did not know the prisoner's name—Constable G313 was the first person who came to me after the stabbing; he asked me who stabbed me, and I said I did not know the name
of the chaps—I did not give the name of Piggott as one—I do not know that another boy has been charged with being concerned in this stabbing on this night—I do not know Donovan—I cannot remember anything of any bricklayers and other men coming to the Clerkenwell boys' assistance; I ran away, and got helped by two men just as I was falling—I saw a rare lot, but I don't recognise anyone; there was a large crowd there—I saw no free fighting going on, and no attacks made on anybody.
Re-examined. I had not struck anyone on this night.
JAMES SESSIONS . I live at Hermes Road, Clerkenwell—on 17th October I left Sadler's Wells Theatre with Moore, whose hat was stabbed by the prisoner; I saw that—then someone hit me on the head; I turned, and saw the prisoner with an open knife in his hand—he said, "We will murder Sessions," and he then stabbed me in the back, and I lost my senses and fell to the ground—I was taken to the hospital—I am quite sure the prisoner stabbed Moore.
Cross-examined. I was with Moore in the theatre till I came out—I saw none of the Somers Town boys there—I saw a lot of boys, but I did not know where they were from; I could not recognise anyone there—I saw no party of Clerkenwell boys—I saw Donovan and Brown—I did not see a knife in Donovan's hand—I saw no disturbance in the theatre—somebody was turned out; I don't know who they were or why they were turned out—I did not see free fighting going on with sticks and belts, or Brown being attacked—I saw a large crowd outside when I came out—I saw a row, but I could not say if it was between the Somers Town and the Clerkenwell boys—I saw no men come to their assistance—I did not see Moore run away—I did not see Singleton being kicked and thrown into the gutter.
Re-examined. I have seen the prisoner before.
ERNEST SOLIVE . I am resident medical officer to the Royal Free Hospital—on the night of 17th October Moore was brought there suffering from wounds and shock, the effect of loss of blood—he had seven wounds, one on the head, one on the left side, half-way between the ribs and hip, two in the shoulder, two on the left arm, and one on the right arm—one of them had passed completely through the arm, and must have been two or three inches deep—the one in the back over the shoulder was not probed deeply because of the danger of so doing, but it was probed to the extent of an inch, and appeared to go further; the one on the left side was probed to a similar depth, and I believe that would have gone further—those wounds could have been caused by a knife.
Cross-examined. He was pale, and suffering considerably from shock; he was sick while in the casualty room, and that I attributed to loss of blood—he had certainly had some drink, but he was not drunk, he knew where he was—I don't know if his wounds would tend to make him sober.
Re-examined. They might give him the appearance of being drunk—what I saw was quite consistent with the injuries he had received, even if he had had no drink.
in it"—I did not put the words down at the time, I think I did so afterwards—I am sure those are the words.
Cross-examined. I was present at Clerkenwell when the case was going on, and I heard Donovan charged with haying taken part in this stabbing affray on 17th October.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I have nothing to say, I have no witnesses."
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY JAMES HOBBS . I live at 2a, Blundell Cottages—I am sixteen—on 17th October I met the prisoner outside Sadler's Wells about half-past seven, and went in with him, and was in his company all the time till about twelve o'clock, when I left for home—during the time we were in the theatre I noticed a row, which Moore began; he was quarrelling with some man—Moore and a lot of his mates were paying Brown, also known as Singleton, who was with me, kicking and punching him in a corner—there were two parties of boys there; a lot with Moore and Sessions, and with me and the prisoner were Donovan, Hawthorn, Singleton, and Jones—I had never before seen the boys with Moore, and I don't know their Dames—they were more than we were; I should think they were ten or eleven—when they were paying Brown some men, navvies I should think they were, came to his assistance, and we were all turned out of the theatre—when we all got downstairs Moore wanted to fight Jones, and Moore's party attacked the other party—Jones would not fight Moore, and Moore ran away when he saw some men I did not know coming to our assistance, and the men ran after him—I never saw the prisoner with a knife; I did not see him with one that night—I did not hear him use any threats towards anyone that night; if he had done so I should have heard him, because I was with him all the night—I saw Brown and Jones beaten and kicked outside the theatre by those who were with Moore.
Cross-examined. Brown and Jones were kicked outside before Moore ran away, as soon as we got outside the theatre—Moore wanted to fight Jones, who would not fight, and then Moore ran away—Moore particularly wanted to fight—he was very quarrelsome—I don't know who the men were he fought with in the theatre, they were strangers to me—we were in the gallery—I was not fighting, I was quiet, but I was turned out because we got up to see what was the matter—the prisoner is a friend of mine—I heard he was in custody on the Sunday following the Saturday; I did not know what he was in custody for; I did not inquire—I found out on the Sunday when I went to where he lives; they said there he was in custody for stabbing—I did not know who he was charged with stabbing, nor that it was someone outside the theatre, I did not ask; I saw his father and mother, but I did not ask when it occurred, or anything about it—I heard on the Saturday night he was in custody for stabbing Moore—I did not know when he was going to be brought up at the Police-court; I did not inquire—I knew nothing about it till I was asked by his mother last Wednesday week if I would come up here and give evidence of what I saw and heard—I had told her on the previous night what I had seen and heard—I told her on the Monday when I went down—I did not go to the Police-court, because I did not know I was wanted, and I was at work—I knew he was innocent, and that my evidence might save him—I nearly got discharged when
I asked for a day off—I did not see Brown give the prisoner the knife on this night—I never saw Brown with a knife—I know he has not got one now—he did not ask me to say he had not got one—I do not know that it is suggested that Brown gave the prisoner the knife to stab Moore—Brown is not a great friend of mine—I have seen him to speak to sometimes—I don't know if any of the boys bad a knife on this night—I did not see any of them with one.
Re-examined. I have been here a few days; no one asked me to be present at the Police-court.
FREDERICK SINGLETON . I live at 3, Middleton Road, Dalston, and am sixteen years old—on this night I got to Sadler's Wells about seven o'clock, and left about eleven—I was with the prisoner in the theatre the whole evening—I saw no knife in his hand—I did not hear him make any threat towards Moore or Sessions—there was a row in the theatre—I saw Sessions and Moore fighting, and I went to have a look, and Moore struck me and kicked me, and Sessions too; and Moore struck Jones, and then there was a fight between Moore and Sessions, and me and Jones—we were ordered out, and when we got outside Moore and Sessions started on us again, and some men saw they were knocking us about-and took our part, and Moore ran away, and the men after him—there was a crowd outside, moving about—I noticed no free fighting.
Cross-examined. I saw no stabbing—I did not see a boy named Brown there, my name is Singleton; I do not know a man or boy named Brown—the first time I saw Moore he began fighting with me and Jones—the prisoner was not fighting at all, he was very quiet—Moore fought with someone else in the theatre before he fought us, but I did not see who he was fighting with—he was not fighting with Sessions, they were together, not fighting against one another; they were fighting a boy, I did not notice who it was or if it was more than one boy—I went to have a look, I saw one boy they were fighting with; I don't know who it was, I have not seen him since—I cannot say if they were fighting more than one, I only saw one boy there—the two were fighting the one boy; I went through the crowd to have a look, and they knocked me out of the crowd and kicked me, and I was then turned out of the theatre for fighting—I first heard that the prisoner was in custody for stabbing on the Monday night—I did not go to the Police-court, I went to work.
Re-examined. I have only come here on having a subpœna on Saturday at one o'clock—as far as I could see the fight was going on between Moore and Sessions and one boy.
ALFRED HAWTHORNE . I live at 52, Dean Street, Islington—on this Saturday I went to Sadler's Wells about seven o'clock, and left about a quarter to ten, and went for a walk round by Chapel Street, Islington, and then got home about a quarter to twelve—in the theatre I was with Singleton, Hobbs, and the prisoner—I was with Singleton all the evening—I saw a row inside the theatre, Singleton went to look at it, and he was struck by Sessions—we were ordered out, and when we came outside Sessions struck Singleton again, and there was a general fight, and some men, strangers to me, men like bricklayers, took our part, and then Moore and Sessions ran away together, and the men ran after them, and I saw no more—I did not see the prisoner do anything or say anything in the way of threatening—I did not see a knife in his hand, and I was with him till after the row in the theatre.
Cross-examined. I was with him the whole time—I did not go for a walk immediately on coming out of the theatre; we stood outside for about ten minutes—I went for a walk with the prisoners Singleton and Hobbs—I did not see Sessions fall to the ground—the last I saw of him was when he was running away with Moore—it is not true that Moore ran away alone, there were two or three more with him—I was not at the Police-court.
By the COURT. I saw a number of people running away, about five, I should reckon, belonging to Moore's party; and some men followed them.
HENRY RUDWOOD (G 313). On this Saturday night I was on duty in the neighbourhood of Sadler's Wells—I was the first to come up to Moore—I saw him lying on the pavement in a large pool of blood, about three hundred yards from the Wells—I did not see Sessions at the time—I asked Moore what was the matter—he said he had been stabbed in several different places outside Sadler's Wells Theatre—I asked him if he knew who had done it; he mentioned some name, but I could not distinguish the name; he said it was the Clerkenwell lads—I was not before the Magistrate—I made a memorandum, and reported the matter at the station—I did not know when the matter was coming before the Magistrate.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding. — Six Month' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, HORACE AVORY, and ELDRTDGE Prosecuted; MESSRS. HARRIS, Q.C., BESLEY and DRURY Defended.
GEORGE BUSH (Sergeant). I prepared this plan, showing the two houses, The Rocks and The Rosary, at Bedfont, and also the residence of Constable Petty—the distances marked are correct—attached is a drawing of the gas stove found on the premises.
Cross-examined. Between the dining-room and Mrs. Swaffer's cottage is twenty-two feet – it is fourteen feet six inches across the dining-room from the inner side of the bow window to the doorway.
FRANCIS PENN . I lived with my family at The Rosary, Bedfont, up to 16th July—that house and the next one, The Rocks, belong to me—about 10th June Leach called on me with a man, whom I afterwards knew as Mr. Adams—Leach wanted to rent The Rocks from me—I showed him and Adams over that house, and he agreed to take it at £27 a year—he wrote his then address on this piece of paper, "167, High Street, W Norwood," with references—a few days afterwards he and his wife and two children came and looked over the house, and they moved in a few days before 24th June—I saw one box-van and another van covered with tarpaulin arrive with the furniture—the family remained there till about 10th July, I believe; I saw them about the place till then—while they were there I saw Cove often visit the house—I think I saw Adams there after the first time he came, I am not sure—besides the van that came when they moved in I saw a van, with the
name of Lefevre, standing at the door, and some furniture taken out and into the house—on the morning of the 10th July I went to The Rocks in consequence of what I heard—I saw Leach—I believe that was the only time I had been in the house after they moved in—I did not then notice the furniture particularly—I noticed it was not arranged very nicely about the rooms, I thought—it looked like ordinary furniture for a cottage, not very costly—I did not see the family leave on that day, but during that afternoon I went to the house in consequence of seeing the windows left open, and found that the family had left—two or three days after they had gone I saw Leach and gave him the key of the gate, he did not return it to me—I did not see whether he went into the house—two or three days after that, on the day the fire took place, about five p.m., I knocked at the door of The Rocks; Leach opened it; his coat was off, he was in his shirt sleeves—I handed him some parcels which had come for him—he made no remarks about them; he said his friend Cove was driving down from London, and asked me whether I would go for a drive with him to Staines, as they were going there to see a friend; I declined, and went back to my own house, leaving him inside The Rocks—I did not see anything of him before the explosion, nor did I see anyone else arrive at the house—about eight, or a few minutes past eight, I was sitting in my front parlour (the room with the bow window, marked sitting-room on the plan, it is not the room next to The Rocks) when I heard a dull, heavy sound which seemed to shake the place, and seemed to come from somewhere near me, I could not say where—I jumped up and went to the passage and saw that my dining-room, between The Rocks and the room I had been sitting in, was full of fire, and that the floor of the bedroom over it had come down into the room and was on fire, and that the party wall between my house and The Rocks was down, and the flame coming through into my room; that it had knocked down part of the ceiling of the room I had been in, and shaken the ornaments and some pictures from the wall; they came down while I was in the room—I immediately went outside and saw that the walls of The Rocks were partly blown down, and that it was on fire all over the ground floor and the upper part, and the roof had all fallen in—it was not above two or three minutes after the explosion that I saw the roof and the upper part had fallen in—I should think the first time I saw Leach after the fire was about ten o'clock—he was outside in the road—he said, "It is a bad job, Mr. Penn," or something like that, and I said, "Yes, it is a very bad job"—I think that was all that passed—I saw him between two and three in the morning; I asked him if he was insured, and he said, "Yes," but he did not know whether the policy would hold good or not, as he had given them notice of his removal of the goods, but he had had no answer—Cove was present, he said nothing—my house burnt for a good while after the explosion, it was burnt down—when I went outside after the explosion I noticed that my dining-room, nearest The Rocks, and the kitchen and the back premises were on fire, and the fire soon came into the hall and the upstairs rooms—I was present about a month afterwards when the workmen were clearing away the rubbish from The Rocks, and one of the workmen called my attention to the strong smell of paraffin in the earth; I did not smell it till I got some of the sand in my hand, and
then I could smell it very distinctly; it was taken from the dining-room of The Rocks, the end of the room nearest the passage, towards the staircase part.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. When I first saw Leach he said he had been to see a house called The Lindens, and that he had noticed a placard "To let" at The Rocks and had come to look at it—I gave him permission to come in at midsummer if the references were all right—I had an interest for a long term in The Rosary and The Rocks—I had been living at The Rosary for about five years, I think—The Rocks had been vacant from Christmas—I don't think the walls were slight; I don't know that they were half the thickness required by the Building Act—I never inquired how long the houses had been up; they were not a hundred years old; my brother built The Rocks twenty or thirty years ago I think, not over thirty years ago—I succeeded to my interest in them about five years ago, when I went to live there—not more wood-work was used in them than is usual, I think—on this day, when I sat in my sitting room, there was light enough for me to read; I was reading by the window; it was quite daylight—we lighted the lamp before nine the night before—I burn paraffin; I have in half a gallon at a time, and keep it in my back scullery—I only use one lamp; I carry a candle upstairs when we go to bed—at the very same time that I heard this explosion down came the pictures from the walls—the explosion was on, my right—I instantly jumped to my feet to see what was the matter—I had to pass the dining-room door to go out at the hall-door—the hall-door was not open; the dining-room door was partly open, because I could see the flames in that room at that time, immediately after the explosion; the roof was in then—it was all at one and the same moment, the pictures falling from the wall, my going out of the room and seeing flames in the dining-room and my going out into the open air, and before I got to the open air, down had come the roof; it all occurred in a minute, or less—I came out of my hall-door and round to the front—when I looked, the roof and top part were down, and the wall of my dining-room had fallen in, and flames were burning my place—three or four fire-engines came—I did not see them arrive; they were more than four minutes coming—I saw nothing done with water before they came—at that time the floor dividing my ground floor from the upper room had fallen in; that part of the roof that covered the room I was sitting in had not fallen in, but that part that covered my dining-room had—the two houses were pretty well burnt down before the engines got any water—I cannot say whether the roof over my sitting-room fell in afterwards or was knocked down—the two houses were insured in the County Fire Office for £800; my furniture was not insured—the things in my scullery were burnt, and the wall from The Rocks was knocked into it—I saw the flames in my kitchen, all the wood-work was burnt that was not knocked down—the kitchen, breakfast-room, passage, hall, and dining-room of The Rocks were burnt; the roof covered all these rooms, and when it fell there was no fire above it that I saw; there was some fire over the back part, over the kitchen—the roof and wood-work and all came down together—the coach-house of The Rocks was not burnt, part of the pantry was; the scullery was partly burnt, the roof was burnt off—my second scullery where the sink and copper are was not burnt; nor my coal-shed; there was about a ton of coal there that I
had had in a few days before—Leach's coalshed, stable, and coach-house were not burnt—the pony trap was in the coach-house; I had seen Mrs. Leach drive it—I heard that when she went away the pony was put out to grass—before 16th July, and before Mrs. Leach went to the seaside, my going out for a drive with them had been talked about, two or three times it might have been; I had not been asked to go—Mr. Leach said he was going to have a pony and trap, and when he had it he would take us out for a drive—I cannot say when the pony and trap came; it was there about a week before the fire, I should think—I did not see Mrs. Leach and the children go away to the seaside—before they went Mrs. Leach said they were going to South end, she would send me the address, and she would be glad if I would send on anything that came by post—I saw a cart standing at the door with furniture in it, I did not actually see it carried in, that was before Mrs. Leach went to the seaside—I saw the van that brought the piano, and I was told it had brought a piano, but I did not see the piano—there was the furniture they brought when they came in, and then that from Lefevre's, and then the van that I was told the piano came in; that all came before Mrs. Leach went to the seaside—the fire brigade and salvage corps took. possession of the two places—I was claimant for £800 from the County Insurance Office, and they took possession of the two houses; I got possession of mine a short time after, but I was some six weeks or two months before I got possession of what had been The Rocks—they might have had possession of The Rosary for more than a week, I cannot say—during that week the firemen were about the ruins of The Rocks and Rosary—I saw no soil dug up from The Rosary to smell—I could tell the smell of paraffin from gas in soil saturated with it—I could not smell the paraffin till I had the soil partly up to my nose; it came from the hand of one of the labourers—I never saw the people in the possession of the débris using lamps after dark—after The Rosary was down I went to sleep in an empty house I had in the New Road, two hundred or three hundred yards away, perhaps, not more—although The Rosary came to my possession in a week, the fire brigade were in possession of The Rocks night and day—they occupied part of the coach-house—I don't know if they used a paraffin lamp to undress by; I was not there after dark—I saved a little of my furniture out of my sitting-room and the bedroom above it, while the fire was going on and before the brigade came; I threw some articles out of the window, and some people who came by took things out; the sitting-room and bedroom above it had not caught fire then—I saved a table and a few chairs and bedding, but no bed-steads—the other furniture was too cumbersome to move, and was all burnt—I don't think it burnt pretty quickly; it was not all over in a very short time; a good deal of it was over before water was applied—Leach told me he was an architect and surveyor, and that his offices were at Joint Stock Bank Chambers, Smithfield—Leach had the front door key—I put a padlock on the gate and took away the key, and that key I afterwards gave to Leach—there were no other keys but those two.
Re-examined. Mrs. Leach never sent me the address at the seaside—it was Leach's own pony and trap that it was suggested I was to take a drive in—I have often been in the kitchen of The Rocks when the house was up—the walls of the kitchen were between nine and ten feet high.
By the COURT. I saw the fire at The Bocks, and the fire at my house from the outside; I noticed no difference between them—at the time of the explosion I was sitting in about the middle of my sitting-room, opposite the fireplace, to the best of my recollection, with my back towards the window, and not very near the window—when you turn into the sitting-room from the hall there is a staircase which goes up—I never represented to anyone that I was sitting near the staircase—the rent of the house was £27 per annum, and the tenant paid the taxes.
ELIZA GLANVTLLE . I am thirteen; I live at home at 4, Edith Cottages, New Road, Bedfont, four or five miles from Staines—in the beginning of last June Mrs. Leach came and engaged me as a domestic servant, at 2s. 6d. a week—I was to go and live at The Rocks when they came into occupation there—I went there on the day the furniture arrived—The Bocks was a seven-roomed house, with four bedrooms upstairs, a dining, sitting room and kitchen on the ground floor, a scullery attached to the kitchen, and some outbuildings—I remained in service there about a month or five weeks—on a Friday, I think it was, in July, the family left for the seaside for a fortnight; I was to go home; Mrs. Leach left some directions with me before she went—she said she was going to Brighton; Mr. Leach was not there at any time when she said that—Cove left with them when they went—he had stayed at The Bocks a whole week, which was up the day they went—they drove away in a brake, taking with them two boxes—Mr. Joseph Adams used to visit the house—I don't think he came there during the time that Cove was there, I do not remember; he came more than once—one of the boxes they took to the seaside was mine—I was not present when it was packed, and cannot say what it contained—I know what was on the premises in the way of furniture and so on pretty well—the gas stove stood in the kitchen behind the door, when I left on the Friday it stood there; it was put in about a week after they came to the house, I think—there was no easy-chair in the dressing-room—I never saw any table or toilet set in young Master Leach's bedroom—there was a broken clock, the pieces of which had been thrown into the loft—there were strips of carpet, but no regular carpet in one room—in my bed-room there were no chairs, towel-horse, or ornaments on the mantelshelf—I saw no walnut folding-table in the dining-room, or music cabinet; there was an iron inkstand there—I think there were only two trays in the kitchen, as far as I saw—I would not be sure there was no easy-chair—in the breakfast-room there was one easy-chair—I do not remember seeing any dinner-mats or a bookcase; there was a bookcase in the dining-room—in the hall and passage there was one old easy wooden chair. (Further evidence of the articles in the house was postponed until after the production of the claim)—I did not hear from Mrs. Leach or the family while they were away—when the fire occurred I was at home—I afterwards went out and saw the fire was at my master's house—I was running along the Staines Road, when I saw a pony and trap, with the prisoners in it, driving from the direction of Staines towards the fire—it was between eight and nine; I was not far from The Bocks—the fire was in sight—I was in the Staines Road just beyond the New Road—I said, "Mr. Leach, your house is on fire"—he said, "Oh, don't say so!" and then he said he felt faint—when I spoke they stopped the trap; they left it where they spoke to me, and went on foot in the direction of the fire—about ten minutes after they came back, and got
into the trap and drive off together, and I saw them no more that night.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I was present when Mrs. Leach and the children arrived at The Bocks; I saw a one-horse and a two-horse van full of furniture come—I did not make or see any list of the furniture that came from those vans—two or three days after the fire Inspector Dinney came to my mother's house, he had no paper with him that day—on two occasions before the gas-fittings were put in paraffin was bought, and it was all used up but one quart, I think, before the gas was put on—the gas was put on in one or other of the upper rooms—Mrs. Leach, when going to the seaside, said she might write for me to send some raspberries down; she said she would send the address—I was to go back to my mother's for the fortnight—the paraffin was kept in a stone jar in the scullery—I fetched a gallon at a time—one lamp was burned in the house before Mrs. Leach went; it was of an ordinary size; it was not moved about—the inspector saw me first at Mr. Penn's; he put questions to me—I heard no suggestions that dynamite had been used—afterwards the inspector saw me again at our house, when he had a list of furniture, which he read to me, and asked if I remembered every article—I don't remember Dinney at the Police-court complaining that the Magistrates' clerk was not writing what he ought to he did not interfere with me nor speak to me while I was in the witness-box—the Chairman spoke to him—I heard a complaint made of Dinney's interfering with me; I burst out crying twice before the Magistrates—I was asked, "Is it possible there were articles of furniture you did not take notice of?" and I said "Yes, there might have been"—I was asked whether I knew Leach had put in a claim against the insurance company, and I said, "Yes"—do not know what a music cabinet is—I told the Magistrates that Dinney told me it was a cabinet—I did not know what he was speaking about; it was explained to me at the Court that it was a thing to put music into—the Chairman asked me if there was a considerable quantity of furniture that I might have forgotten and I said yes, possibly—I said Cove was very fond of the children; that the gas stove was a large one with three, taps, and that Mrs. Leach had told me to be careful of the taps—the taps were loose and easily turned on, and she warned me to be very careful to see that they were always properly turned—I said I did not know the difference between walnut and mahogany; so that when Dinney read out from the list of things "walnut" and "mahogany" I did not know what he meant—he made a great point about Mrs. Leach's blue serge dress; it came out that I neither saw it, packed it, nor knew whether she took it with her or not—a large and unwieldy tin box was left behind—Mrs. Leach packed one box, and then said she had not put in her blue serge dress, and so I told her she could have my box—I was not present when she afterwards packed things in my box, and I do not know whether she took away the serge dress or not—I lent her my hat-box, a very small one—Dinney was a long time going through the list with me; he called my attention to a great many articles—I told him I did not remember—I made a statement before the Magistrates before Leach was in custody; I think Sergeant Bush went with me to swear that information—the piano was brought to the house about a week after the general furniture came—the children were a girl and boy, one was eight and the other ten, I think—the girl played the piano.
Re-examined. After lending my mistress my box she made no statement to me as to what she had packed in it—I was told at the time that a music cabinet was a thing to put music in—I don't remember seeing anything there to put music in—the first gallon of paraffin was got the day they came in, and the second about two or three days after, I think; both lots before the gas-fittings were put up—Mrs. Leach told me she was going to Brighton.
By the COURT. I fetched the paraffin; I think the second lot was two or three days after the first—I cannot say why I said at the Police-court that it was a fortnight.
LOUISA SWAFFER . I am married, and live at Hawthorne Lodge, next door to The Rocks—on the night of the fire I saw the prisoners a little before seven, coming out of the gateway into the road; Cove was leading a horse and cart—he drove past our house, and Leach followed; I did not see him get up—a little after eight on the same evening I heard an explosion; I looked up and saw the flames and a cloud of smoke coming out of the roof, and I saw the roof gradually falling inwards—I smelt a very strong smell of paraffin soon after the explosion, a little after eight, as near as I can say—about three the next morning the prisoners came into my house—I said to Leach, "This is a very bad job; how did it happen?"—he said, "I don't know, Mrs. Swaffer; it is a myth to me; I have been housekeeping now eight years; this is my first experience of a fire"—some time after I saw my husband find on the roof this little drawer, which had been blown up on to the roof—that was the day Inspector Dinney came, I could not say the date—we all saw it there, and there were several other pieces of furniture, but the fireman brought this down for me—this drawer was on the roof behind the stack of dining-room and kitchen chimneys.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I cannot tell when I first knew I was to be a witness—it was weeks and weeks before I gave evidence at the Staines Police-court—I think I was nearly the last witness called; I cannot say—I had a subpœna to go there a day or two before I gave evidence—I only went there once—Dinney had seen me two or three times—he did not put questions to me; I don't know if you call it making notes, he wrote in a little book the first day he called—I do not think I saw anyone connected with the prosecution except Dinney—I said nothing to the Magistrates about my saying, "It was a bad job; how did it happen?"; nor about Leach saying, "I don't know, it is a myth to me; I have been housekeeping now eight years, and this is my first experience of a fire"; I was not asked the question—I did not need to write the words down, I can remember them so distinctly; I won't say I am accurate to a" t," but I am speaking truthfully—there had been no intimacy between us and the Leaches—when the fire was over Leach was speaking about going somewhere to bed, and my husband said, "Oh, I daresay we could make you up a bed"—I was in my back garden when I heard the explosion—I should think the roof fell in and the fire became almost uncontrollable before the fire brigade came—I was running backwards and forwards through my house because the wall was blown down, and we were open at the back, and a large glass door was blown down at the back of our house—I saw both houses on fire—I saw the roof falling inwards; I could not say that stifled the fire—I do not think the fire burnt more fiercely at The Rosary than at The Rocks; it went
from The Rocks to The Rosary; I could not swear to that; I think The Rocks was nearly all down—I don't know if the salvage men had charge of the premises afterwards—I suppose they slept in the coach-house—I saw a light there; I could not say what it was—I never saw them with a paraffin lamp—I smelt no earth.
Re-examined. Our wall that was blown down was the wall that divides the two carriage-ways; it is not a wall of the house, but goes from the stable-door half-way down the drive to the gates—it was not the wall of any building—a hole was broken in our cistern, and the glass drawing-room door, that opens into the garden, was smashed—I don't think I said that the explosion was from the back part of The Rocks.
FREDERICK PETTY (T 389). I live next door to The Rosary in the Staines Road, Bedfont—on the evening of the 16th July, about 8.30, I was in my front garden, when my attention was attracted by a dull explosion, which seemed to come from my right—I vaulted over my front fence, and ran to the front of The Rocks—the walls and the roof were then falling in, and upstairs and down was all on fire and in flames—there was a very large cloud of smoke ascending from the roof of The Rocks as I ran up to the house—the roof was then falling in—between half-a-minute and a minute elapsed between my hearing the explosion and arriving in front of The Rocks—when I arrived I smelt a very strong smell of paraffin, which came from the front room; the front part of the house was falling down at the same time as the roof—I went at once to the Police-station and reported the matter, and returned, and remained on duty all night—when I returned The Rocks was completely down, and The Rosary was on fire—the bay-window of The Rocks was the only part left standing—my attention was never called to a wall between The Rocks and The Hawthorns—about nine the same evening I saw the two prisoners together, standing in front of the house, in the middle of the road—The Rosary was still alight—about three next morning I went to a hedge opposite The Rocks on the other side of the road, and in a direct line from the dining-room; I found a window sash, with two large iron weights and the ropes attached, and this china well of a paraffin lamp—the well and the sash were near together—there was a little drop of oil in the well, which smelt of paraffin—I showed those articles to Leach between three and four in the morning—Cove was there at the time—I asked Leach if they were his, and he said they were—I handed them to the captain of the fire brigade—eight or nine days after the fire I was present in the dining-room when the workmen were digging up the earth, and some of it I took in my hand, and it smelt strongly of paraffin—it was wet.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I made no note in writing—I made a report of the fire—I gave evidence on 19th October—nothing was put in writing as to what I could say till then—there was a considerable number of persons about after the fire-engine had arrived—the fire had not pretty well burnt itself out before any water was thrown, it was blazing—the roof was all falling in, and the fire was burning fiercely in The Rosary—I should think it was half an hour after the engine arrived before they got water, and then they threw it on the fire between three-quarters of an hour to an hour—then The Rosary was completely burned out—it was gutted as far as the front was concerned, and The Rocks had fallen down—when the explosion occurred I was standing in
my front garden—I could not see the bay-window of The Books from there, nor the front window of The Rosary, because there was a hedge and fence before—I described the explosion as a very dull one, like the falling of a house—I did not allow a moment to elapse before jumping over the fence and going to The Bocks—all I saw of the lamp was the receptacle and the burner, the burner was just on the top—I have not seen them since—the firemen had charge of The Bocks night and day, and slept in the coach-house, and of The Rosary as well—I did not see the fire brigade men using paraffin lamps—they lit themselves to bed with their own lamps; they burn colza oil—I could distinguish between that and paraffin—the labourers did not dig up any of The Rosary's ground, only The Bocks'; before they began digging they sifted the débris of The Bocks—the sifting went on for two days—I should say it would be about the 15th October when I smelt the handful of earth, I cannot say the actual date—it was eight or ten days after—the workmen were present—it was not eight or ten days after the fire, I got mistaken in the time; it was not as long as three months, it was not a wet season.
Re-examined. The eight or nine days is a mistake—I should think it was the 10th of August, as near as possible, when the workmen were digging the ground; it was then I smelt the earth—it was eight or nine days after the fire that they did the sifting; I say now it was the 10th of August, because I was on my annual leave at the time, and I remember being there when the workmen were digging—I have no memory about the time of my annual holiday, the superintendent would keep a record at the station—when I got to the front of the house one or two floors were sufficiently up for me to see two fires, and one in each of them.
By the COURT. The digging was after the operations were commenced for rebuilding—that was done by the labourers; I said before the Magistrates that they were acting under the direction of the firemen—I should not like to pledge my oath that it was either the 10th August, or 15th October, or eight or nine days after the fire that I smelt the earth; my memory has failed me—I have never yet had a prisoner in custody—3 or 4 feet of the ground in length had been dug about a spade deep—I believe it was about as wet a spade deep as it was at the surface, it was very damp—I only smelt a handful, it was handed to mo by one of the workmen; he put it up on his spade and I took it—I will not swear it was saturated with paraffin oil, not all the ground, it might have been the wet weather; I cannot say how I came to tell the Magistrates that the earth was saturated with paraffin.
ELIZA HORE . I am the wife of Mark Hore; we keep the Bell Inn, Bedfont—on the date of the fire at 7 p.m. the prisoners came in and had broad and cheese, beer and ginger beer, and stayed nearly half an hour, and after that they went a way driving; they were going to Staines—between eight and nine the same evening they pulled up again at the door with the horse and cart, and I went to the door and told them their house was on fire—Leach said I was joking, he did not believe it—he got up and they drove away in the direction of his house.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I served them with the bread, cheese and beer; it did not strike me that they had wonderful appetites—they had a business cart—when I said his house was on fire, Leach laughed at me
and said I was joking—I said "What is the name of your house?"—he said, "The Rocks"—I said, "That is down, and Mr. Penn's is alight"—as soon as he was assured it was so he went away—we had heard of it—the horse and trap were put up at our place for the night.
Re-examined. The prisoners came back with the horse later on.
WILLIAM STEVENS (J 514). On 16th July, about 8.30, I was on duty in the Staines Road; I had heard of the fire, and I was standing about 50 yards from it, on the Staines side, having it in view when the prisoners came up on foot from the direction of Staines: Leach said, "What is the matter here, constable?"—I said, "A house on fire"—a few seconds elapsed and he dropped his head on my shoulder and said, "Oh God! it is my house"—I said, "Are you the occupier of The Rocks?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "You had better see the inspector, he is on duty, as he wants to see you"—the inspector came up, and they and Cove, who had been present during the conversation, walked away together—that night I and Petty were in charge of the ruins outside The Rocks on the footpath—I smelt paraffin very strongly.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. We had our ordinary lamps in which we burn colza oil, I think, not petroleum oil—it smells when it is turned up too high; but I know the difference between colza and petroleum—I made no report about it; the Inspector Treeby was on duty there—the prisoners were walking; I saw no pony—I told Treeby of the conversation; I made no note of it—there were a lot of people looking on—The Rocks was burnt down, but The Rosary was still burning—I was in the centre of the Staines Road directing the wheel traffic up the New Road when Leach came up and said, "What is the matter?"
By the COURT. When I smelt paraffin I was on the footpath outside The Rocks, three or four yards from the front of the house—it occurred to me as singular that I should smell it then; I thought Treeby smelt it as well as myself—I was not in company with him—I did not report it—I did not go to the rear of the premises at all—it appeared as if it was burning, from the ruins—I first smelt it when the fire was burning and afterwards—I smelt it from the front part of the house, I am not sure what part it came from—I could get no nearer to the house than the path at that time—I never make notes.
HENRY TREEBY (Police Inspector T). I am stationed at Bedfont—I was at the Police-station there about 8.30, and heard a very loud explosion—the station is about five hundred yards from The Rocks—I ran out into the road and saw a large body of smoke, followed by flames—after that Petty, of the T division, came and reported the fire, and about 8.50 I went to the fire—I saw the prisoners there about 9.30, and asked Leach if he was the owner of The Rocks; he said, "Yes"—I asked if he was insured—he said, "Oh, I don't know; I gave notice at the office, of the transfer, but have not got my policy yet"—he afterwards said he was insured for £550, and his goods and furniture were worth £800—I asked him if the gas was laid on—he said, yes; and he had a gas stove which he lit that evening, and had had some tea, and went out into the country, and the fire had destroyed his wife's dresses and wedding presents—I asked him if the stove was in good working order—he said, yes; it had been fixed by a practical man, and he never smelt any escape—he said his family were at Southend—I asked if the gas was turned off—he said he believed he had left everything all correct.
Cross-examined. At the time of the explosion I ran out bare-headed; returned almost instantly, and the clock pointed to 8.30—I was only just a moment in the road—what I heard was when I was under cover of the station buildings; no window was open—when I said at the Police court that it was a very sharp explosion, I meant loud; it was a very quick one—I was telegraphing for a fire-engine before I went to the fire; I got to the fire before the engine; the roofs of The Rosary and The Rocks had not fallen in then, and the burning of The Rosary was going on—I remained there till about 10.50—the engines got there about 9, and the water at 9.30—the fire had pretty well burnt itself out then—I did not see the hearth stone when it was in this shape (angular)—there was not a common gossip about dynamite—I put no questions to the girl—I never said that I smelt any paraffin—I passed there day after day after the fire, but not after dark—the firemen were sleeping in the coach-house; they were in charge of the whole place—Leach did not say that in addition to the piano there was a pony and trap.
ERNEST ORION MEYER . I am chief officer of the Hounslow Fire Brigade—on 16th July I received a call at 8.45, and went with my men to The Rocks and The Rosary, Bedfont—we arrived at 9.8; the buildings were well alight, there was a mass of flames from top to bottom; a portion of the roof, I believe, was in—the two houses were alight all over—there was about forty minutes' delay in getting water, but we managed to get buckets of water to save the surrounding property—I came to the opinion, a day or two afterwards, that the fire was caused by an explosion—some portions of a curtain were hanging on a tree in front of the house, immediately in front of the dining-room window, and a small window-frame was lying under the front wall of the house on a heap of bricks, on the right of the tree when facing the house—I saw the sash and two sash weights, they were in a line with the dining-room—Police-constable Petty showed me the well next morning—when Mr. Rees came down we cleared the débris, and I formed the opinion that the explosion occurred in the fireplace in the front room; the hearth stone was shattered—the only indication was in the fireplace; the room was full of débris, bricks and slates, and I ordered the fireplace to be uncovered—the rest of the débris was cleared away by a gang of men, by order of the insurance company—I went over what remained of the house: the ground floor alone remained—the kitchen walls on the right were between 6 and 7 ft. high, and on the left between 3 and 4 feet—the dining-room wail on your left, with your back to the room, was completelyd own, and on your right was a chimney-stack, which I had taken down as being unsafe—the wall on the right was completely down—the fireplace was the only place that seemed to bear marks of an explosion; of course all the internal fittings were destroyed—early on the morning of the 17th I saw Leach on the premises, and asked him whether he was insured—he said, "I believe so"—I asked what he meant by "believe"—he said he had renewed his policy, paid the money, and received a receipt, but had not received the policy—I asked him the name of the office—he said, "The Liverpool and London and Globe, for £500, and £50 for pony and trap"—I asked him if he had any idea how the fire occurred; he said he thought it was a gas explosion; he and his friend Cove had come home and made tea on the gas stove, and he believed he had turned all the
gas off; and after tea they had a friendly spar, and he thought it was likely the tail of one of their coats striking against the gas stove had turned the gas on; and that his wife was away at Southend—he said, "It seems all a dream to me; I have never had a fire before"—I asked to see the gas stove—this plan (produced) shows the position of the gas correctly, to the best of my recollection—there are four taps at the top.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I am in business—I have had thirteen months' experience of a fire brigade—I paid the greater part for the engine—I am the head of the brigade; it is not volunteer—I did not take advice as to whether I should put on my uniform to come here—I have attended fourteen fires, not including chimneys; we only send two men to a chimney fire—several small fires were among the fourteen—The Rocks was not the first big fire I ever saw, nor the first I have attended officially—I have seen two houses burnt down, one was The Bocks and the other was before I was examined in October—the hearth-stone was shattered in several places; Mr. Rees was with me—I do not think Mr. Leach was with me when the hearth stone was exposed to view—I do not concur that there were twenty or thirty fragments, I saw two or three small pieces of varying shape, you might call them splinters; they had not, in my opinion, been taken from their position; my idea is that the hearth stone had been blown by a violent explosive agent—Mr. Rees did not infuse that idea—I have not seen Sir Frederick Abel's report—my men in the station talked about dynamite and gun cotton, but I adopted no view—the general appearance of the fireplace bore marks of a highly explosive action, but I saw very little of the hearthstone; I did not see its wedge shape—I do not know that it was fractured by the action of water falling on it or percolating to it through the débris—I have never adopted the view of paraffin—I am still on the highly explosive agent platform—I have said nothing about the bars of the grate—I did not smell paraffin—I was in charge some time at the ruins, sleeping in the coach-house—I supplied the lamps, they burn colza oil—we use no petroleum in hand-lamps—I only visited the men on one or two occasions; they were burning hand-lamps with colza oil.
By the COURT. The grate bore marks of fire, nothing else; the mantelpiece was all down, and the back of the chimney had fallen into the grate—the whole of the roof had fallen in—there was only the hearth stone to fix the explosion as having taken place in the grate—it was first put to me that other things might have caused it, and I agreed—there was nothing in the appearance of the hearth stone to lead me positively to the conclusion that there was an explosion there rather than any other cause—I saw the well of the paraffin lamp, there was water in it, but no oil that I am aware of; the man told me that it smelt of paraffin, he did not say that he had found paraffin oil in it—I do not look upon paraffin as the agent causing the explosion—I do not know whether a gas explosion would do it; I have had no experience of gas explosions.
JOSEPH RICHARD LANE . I am attached to the fire brigade—I went to this fire at The Rocks, Bedfont, on 6th July at 9.8, and was on duty on the premises for a month—we were on duty nine weeks, but we took it in turns—I was there when the men removing the débris exposed the gas stove to view; it was between the kitchen door and the cellar, face down—the taps were all turned on except one, which was bent over—there wore five taps, three in a line with the top and one for the grill at
the side—I found some broken window glass in a tray right opposite the bay window of The Rocks—I have been connected with the tire brigade about ten years, but have never been called to a gas explosion.
Cross-examined by Mr. BESLEY. The brigade was employed by the Liverpool and London and Globe Insurance Company—the gas stove was intact—I heard Mr. Avery say that he made no point of the taps being turned on, or of the position of the stove; I do not make a point of it—I agree that the stove being turned face downwards is sufficient to account for the taps being on; a brick would break the tap which was broken—ours was the first engine to arrive; I smelt no paraffin—the next engine was a quarter of an hour later; we were both too soon for the water—The Rosary was pretty well burnt out then—I never saw thinner walls.
WILLIAM THIDD . I am a builder and contractor, of 166, Gipsy Hill Road, Norwood—on, I think, 11th June, 1891, I disconnected a gas stove at Mr. Adams' house, 142, Gipsy Hill, and took it. to Mr. Leach's place in High Street, and put it on a van—I afterwards went to Bedfont, saw the same stove there, and nut up a meter and gas-fittings—the place is correctly shown in this plan—I also put up a bracket in the wash-house, a telescope pendant in the kitchen, a three-burner chandelier in the butler's room, a three-burner chandelier in the dining-room, and a bracket on the floor above, which was the only one upstairs—there was no leakage when I left.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. A five-light meter will carry ten or twelve lights—the gas stove was the only gas-fitting I removed—I have known Mr. Leach some years; he is an architect and surveyor, and I have employed him for plans—the gas pendant was in the centre of the kitchen over the table—the floor was covered—there was a table in the passage—I only know of such chairs as I put my tools on—I saw a piano in the front dining-room, and a bookcase, and a three-light gasolier which I put up—the house was well furnished—I think they had as much as the rooms would hold—Mr. Bees said to me, "Do you know the value of it?"—I said, "I have bought some and sold some"—I should not call it high-class furniture, but it was first-class—after Leach was committed for trial I was asked to correct a mistake, and I went to Staines—I heard the case, but was not called, though they subpœnaed me—I only knew on Monday night about coming to-day.
GEORGE KENDAL . I am foreman of the Brentford Gas Company—on 16th or 17th June we delivered a five-light gas meter to the prisoner Leach; it would give about 30 cubic feet of gas per hour at the fullest—I went to The Rocks on 26th August and saw the meter—the débris had been cleared away—the dial was not damaged at all; it registered 1,400 ft.—I have not formed an opinion as to what caused the explosion.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have had some experience—the main was 15 or 20 ft. from The Bocks—we carry up our pipe from the main to where the meter is to be—that is not all done at the consumer's expense,—35 ft. is the limit—the main service pipe was laid into the house some time since for another customer—the fires in London are to a great degree the consequence of gas explosions.
Re-examined. I never knew a gas explosion to be followed by a fire in the house.
29th, 1890, for £350 on furniture—this is my signature to the receipt—on June 26th Leach called at the office; I feel certain he is the person—he wanted to increase the policy to £550, and this receipt was given him for the extra premium—this is the old policy; it is dated June 26th, 1891.
WILLIAM ANDREW REES . I am surveyor and assessor to the Liverpool and London and Globe Insurance Company, Cornhill—on the day after the fire my attention was called to Leach's proposal for increased insurance, and a letter from Mr. Leach came very shortly after the fire (MR. EDWARD DORMER here stated that this letter and three others were in Leach's writing)—I received it on July 18th, it is undated. (This stated that The Rosary, Bedfont, was totally destroyed by fire yesterday, and the Inspector would make his report. Signed, "A. M. Leach")—a form of claim was sent in answer to that, which came back on 23rd July with this letter. (This enclosed a list of articles destroyed by fire, and stated that fortunately the pony was away. Signed, "Arthur M. Leach.")—that was accompanied by this claim, amounting to £790 1s. 9d., which was afterwards reduced to £786 13s. 9d.—on 25th July, in consequence of an appointment with Mr. Leach, I went to The Rocks and met him and Mr. Dormer—I had this claim in my hand, and questioned him as to the articles in it—I asked him if there was any fire or light in the place; he said all he could remember was that he had turned down the kitchen gas to a blue flame, and he had not been using any fire except the gas-stove—I asked him if he could account for the explosion; he said no, the only thing he could possibly suggest was gas; I said I hardly thought it was gas; he said he could not account for it in any way—I had previously asked him if he had turned the taps off carefully; he said, "Yes, except the one blue light"—he said he and his friend Cove had indulged in a little sparring after they had their tea, and probably they might have knocked on one of the taps—he drew my attention to a fender, which was a very good one—there was water just in front of the fireplace which I had cleared, and found the fender—the hearth stone was driven in the floor in the form of a wedge, and smashed in pieces; the mantelpiece was down, and we found pieces of it among the bricks—we walked over the ruins and found traces of iron bedsteads, and I suggested that we should sift the ruins, and employed the fire brigade to do it—nearly three weeks afterwards I went to see what had been discovered—I went through Leach's claim and put a price against each article, and the value amounted to £388—I. visited The Rocks twice, once when I met Mr. Leach and once when I met Mr. Lewis—it was before August 19th when Mr. Lewis, Mr. Cove, and Mr. Adams came to the office—I have had thirty years' experience as assessor of this company of fires, incendiary and accidental—I had formed no opinion of the cause of the fire, beyond the fact that there had been an explosion which was not brought about by ordinary coal gas—on August 19th Leach came to the office with Mr. James Lewis, his assessor—while Mr. Lewis was present each made a statement which I took down in writing—this is it (produced)—this is my writing; Leach signed it in my presence—it was read over to him before he signed it. (The statement was to the effect that on the day of the fire he and Cove were out driving, and calling at different places, and that on returning in the evening he found the place had been burned to the ground)—after that statement had
been made Cove came into the office—Leach was still there, and Mr. Lewis; this was between 11 and 12 in the morning—they were there two or three hours—I have my notes of what occurred—I had said I should like to see Cove, and he was brought there by Mr. Lewis—he said he was a coffee-house keeper by trade. (In substance this gave a similar account of the proceedings on the day of the fire to that of Leach)—later on the same day Adams came to the office; he made a statement in the presence of Leach. (This stated that he knew the furniture in the house occupied by Leach, and that, in his opinion, the statement of claim was a fair one)—after that the matter was left in my hands to place before the directors—the next I saw of Leach was when he called with Mr. Lewis on 31st August; I then said to him that the directors required a statutory declaration as to the truth of the claim—he made one; this is it, in his handwriting—I drew it up, he returned it to me, having sworn it. (This was put in and read)—after that I offered £200 in settlement of the claim; that was not accepted—on 3rd September I received this letter from Mr. Lewis, who had acted on behalf of Leach (This left the matter in the hands of the witness, but stated that in the opinion of the writer the company ought to give £300)—I did not accede to that—on 8th September I received this letter from Leach. (This stated that he was willing to accept £210)—I did not agree to those terms, and no money has been paid.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. The document put in yesterday was my estimate on the claim—the amount claimed on the first three items is £66 10s.; my estimate is £40. (After going through a number of items in the claim, the result arrived at was that on a claim of £800 there were deductions amounting to £300)—when the statutory declaration was made, Leach said that the claim of £2 10s. was on a building that was damaged in 1882, not occupied by himself, but by another person, a tenant, but that he had an interest in it—I went to the premises twice after the fire; on the Saturday week after the fire, and, I think, on 13th August—on the first occasion I met Leach, on the second he did not come, Mr. Lewis came—on neither of those occasions was the sifting of the débris going on—on the first occasion I ordered it to be done, and on the second it was completed; it was done between those dates—I was not informed by the Hounslow Fire Brigade that they had come to the conclusion that it was an explosion by gunpowder or dynamite; I did not hear that rumour from them—I have seen Sir Frederick Abel's report—the first time I heard of the earth being taken up was in this Court yesterday—the clearing away of the débris, to begin the building, was probably after the 10th September—I think the weather was tolerably fine; I have no particular recollection of that—I did not smell paraffin the first time; I did on the second visit, when the brigade man called my attention to some small articles he found that smelled of paraffin; and they certainly did—I did not say anything about that at the Police-court, because I was not asked—the majority of claims are settled by us without arbitration, and very often at a considerable reduction.
Re-examined. Arbitration was offered in this case and declined.
By the COURT. I saw the remains of the iron bedstead and some springs that were said to have come from the mattress; it was an iron bedstead, ornamented with brass—on a mere examination of it I thought
£7 10s. would be ample for it; a thing of that sort would cost from £3 or £4 to £25—we found a collection of springs; it was impossible to say which bedstead they belonged to—mattresses vary very much in quality, from £2 perhaps to £10 or £12—we found no trace of horsehair, not likely—feather beds range from £2 to £12; pillows and bolsters also vary very much—I took off £5 from the things in the garret, I did not see them; I am compelled to estimate the value of things I do not see—I found no trace of a mahogany wardrobe; I reduced that item from £28 to £15, because I had a description of it from witnesses—the double washstand I reduced from £15 10s. to £7 10s.; I saw some marble on the top of it—that is exactly the way in which it has been done.
ELIZA GLANVILLE (Re-examined). I saw no easy-chair in the drawing room—there was no table or toilet set or clock in the boy's bedroom—I suppose the boy did not wash—there were strips of carpet, but no chair or towel airer or ornaments on the mantelpiece—I do not remember any folding table in the dining-room; there was a piano there, but I do not remember a music cupboard—I think I must have seen them if they had been there—there was no servant in the house but me, I was supposed to dust the rooms—I do not recollect a small occasional table in the dining-room—I saw one music-book—there was one easy-chair in the breakfast parlour; I do not remember two, nor any table napkins or rings, or fish knives and forks—I do not remember an easy-chair in the kitchen; I remember two trays, not five, and three bentwood chairs.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I do not know the difference between a walnut table and a rosewood or mahogany one—Mr. Cove often drove down in his cart; he stopped a week once.
Re-examined. I recognise this drawer (produced) as being in the second best bedroom, the room next to the front bedroom.
ALFRED BALL . I am clerk to Mr. Lefevre, a furniture dealer, Old Street, Shoreditch—I remember Leach coming alone about January 24th; lie was introduced by Mr. Adams, and selected furniture value £21 4s. 6d., which was sent to him at The Rocks, Bedfont—after the fire Adams called again, and in consequence of what he said I forwarded this letter to Mr. Leach. (This was dated August 19th, stating that Leach had paid him£21 10s. 8d., but that that included 7s. 6d. for taking in bookcase, tables, &c., from his office, which were paid for on January 25th)—no invoice was forwarded, the goods were paid for when they were ordered, and he took a receipted invoice showing the prices—this (produced) is a copy of it—among the things I sent were a wardrobe, a dressing-table, three chairs, a towel airer, and a pedestal; that composed the suite—this is the jewel drawer from the box at the top of the dressing table—there was a plate-glass drawer to the wardrobe—I also supplied a bedstead, four feet by six, and a wire spring mattress and wool overlay, for which I charged £5, with the bolster and pillows—I supplied a brass fender and a set of brasses, and charged 13s. 8d. for them.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I did not supply these articles personally; I saw them put on the van—I never went to the house at Bedfont—I sent the goods on the 24th, I believe—I cannot say whether there might not be in that house another iron and brass bedstead—I will not undertake to swear that any bedstead my attention was called to was the one I sent down.
Re-examined. The invoice was after the fire.
WILLIAM LOVEGROVE . I am a labourer, and was engaged by Mr. Penn at The Rocks, Bedfont—I was digging the new foundations; my mate filled the sieve and I sifted it, to get all the fine sand out and take the coarse away for mortar—I was on the work, with my mate Holmes, eight or ten weeks after the fire—I noticed a very strong smell of paraffin in the ground we dug up, and called Mr. Petty's attention to some of it.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. When we were sifting it I said to my mate, "There is a very strong smell of paraffin," and he took a shovelful up, and that was worse, and the next was quite as bad—the apace extended four yards longways, it might run two feet and it might run a yard, it was about 12 ft, by 3—it went about a foot deep—it was not all about the same strength; just alongside the passage it smelt stronger than it did anywhere—my mate called the policeman Petty, and I told Mr. Petty—no one took any sample away—I did not hear about their going before the Magistrate—Petty, and another constable who I do not know, came to me last night about seven o'clock—Petty gave me a paper, and I read it; they did not tell me how they get on here yesterday, they told me to meet them this morning, and they would show me the way—no one told me what I was to say; I kept it in my head—they were going to rebuild The Rocks and The Rosary, and we were digging out the sand from The Rocks.
Re-examined. The passage where the smell ran along was from the sitting-room to the staircase.
JOHN RAVENEY . I am a painter, of Hounslow—I was employed by Mr. Penn at The Rocks, getting the foundations out—I dug up the earth in the front sitting-room, and along the passage to the staircase, it smelt of paraffin; Mr. Penn's attention was called to it, and I called Petry's attention to it; this was nine or ten weeks after the fire—my mate, Love-grove, was with me.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I was subpœnaed last evening; Petty came to me—the smell extended over the earth about five or six feet in the corner of the sitting-room and through the passage to the corner of the stairs, 6 or 7 yards and 18 inches wide—I have not been asked any questions at all—I first went to work there eight or ten weeks after the fire—when we disturbed the ground and noticed the smell we celled attention to it—we did not work there at night.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have known Mr. teach eight years as an architect and surveyor, he has offices at Bank Chambers, West Smithfield; at the same place as Leach; I occupy the same office—he has borne the reputation of a perfectly straightforward honourable man—I saw the furniture in the sitting-room at Norwood before it was removed to Bedfont—it was ordinary good quality, £350 was a fair insurance for it, and not excessive—I did not see the pony—some goods were removed from Joint Stock Chambers after he went to Bedfont; there was a pedestal table with drawers on each side, and a bookcase with books in it—I did not see the complete works of Dickens, illustrated—I cannot give any idea of the value of the property—I went over the débris on 25th July when Mr. Bees was there, but did not examine it; it was undisturbed then, and not put into heaps—there was not the slightest perceptible smell of paraffin.
Re-examined. I went into two of the rooms at Norwood last year, but did not notice the furniture—Leach has occupied the same office as Mr. Adams this year—I know Adams by sight, and have spoken to him.
GEORGE FREDERICK FOULGER . I am the distributing engineer of the Gas Light and Coke Company, and chief of the outdoor department of that company—I hare had thirty years' experience in all matters relating to the distribution and consumption of gas—I have attentively read the depositions in this case, and have been present for the most part during the examination of the witnesses—I have formed the opinion that the explosion occurred in the front room downstairs—the explosion was decidedly not due to an escape or explosion of coal-gas—in my opinion the explosion was not caused by a gas explosion, because there is no smoke whatever emitted in an explosion by coal-gas; I may say that is the only reason—I heard the witnesses describe that flame was in both floors at once, and that a considerable fire was seen on the premises immediately after the explosion was heard—that is not compatible with an explosion by coal-gas—coal-gas, unmixed with atmospheric air, is not explosive; when mixed in certain proportions it is the most explosive mixture; in 90 parts of air and 10 parts of gas, if a light was applied to a room containing that admixture, a very violent explosion would occur, there would be a mere flash as regards flame; it would be so instantaneous that it would not set light to the lightest materials, such as blinds and curtains, if the mixture were not at such an explosive point as I name; but if there was a larger proportion of gas to air, the explosion itself would be less severe, and the flame would last for a longer period, burning with a blue flame; that would very quickly burn itself out, but would have time to fire light articles such as blinds and curtains; it would not consume the heavier furniture or the fabric of the building; that could only be brought about by the articles which had caught, communicating the fire to the bigger ones—that would not be an instantaneous effect, it would be rather a lengthy process; smoke would not accompany an escape of gas itself under any circumstances; if mixed with atmospheric air it would be—each gas-burner is supposed to consume some thirty feet of cubic gas an hour—I heard that the prisoner left the house at something before seven, and that the explosion took place at half-past eight—he passage of fifty cubic feet of gas into the kitchen in that time would not render the room explosive, assuming that the whole of the capacity of the meter was escaping into that room; and the same thing would apply to the dining-room; if that quantity were distributed from the kitchen, through the passage into the dining-room, going up the staircase, it would not arrive at anything like explosive point—I heard that the meter registered 1,400 ft. on 25th August, that would only be about 4s. worth of gas altogether; that would be a small consumption—I have a knowledge of paraffin; it is highly explosive—I should expect smoke to follow the ignition; by this plan I see there was a gas bracket in the hall, just at the angle—that would not be seen, if lighted, from the front—I can't say that it would be seen from the kitchen, it is quite possible that it would—no doubt if vapour caught at that point it would run back very much in the same way as a train of gunpowder would; I should say if it ran back to the dining-room an explosion would be unquestionable, the gas being turned
down to a blue light; the smallest particle of flame would do it—assuming the same condition of things, the same consequences would ensue if the bracket in the passage had been turned down to a blue light—I have heard Constable Petty say that when he arrived both the ground and top floors were alight; that being so, I am of opinion that the top room must have had some oil, or something been prepared there; if articles were thrown 50 ft. or 60 ft., that would indicate the violence of the explosion—the curtains being found 14 ft. from the window, and the walls being blown out, would be a likely result of an explosion from gas; there would be a like result from paraffin—I am of opinion that this explosion could have occurred by the distribution of some inflammable oil, plus the leaving alight the gas pendant or the gas in the passage or kitchen; an escape of gas would assist the oil and make the explosion more dangerous—the two things combined would make a more violent and dangerous explosion than the gas alone—supposing there was not sufficient vapour generated from the oil, the esoaping gas would make up such deficiency to bring it to an explosive point; it would be brought up to the explosive point by the joint agency of gas and vapour—then there would be smoke in proportion to the amount of vapour; the black of the smoke would be caused by the addition of the remaining quantity of oil which had not evaporated.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I form my opinion mainly on the evidence of there being black smoke, not entirely; I also alluded to the firing in both rooms, up and down; I mean the simultaneous firing—I think it was Constable Petty who stated that there was simultaneous firing, I won't be certain—I think either rapidity or smoke would be sufficient, without the other; they are both sufficient reasons to show that it was not a coal-gas explosion—I heard two or three witnesses depose to black smoke immediately on the explosion—I heard that the roof had fallen in when those people saw it; there would be smoke from the roof—I have seen a roof fall in; there would be a large volume of smoke and dust—the house was poorly built—if the explosion took place in the lower room it would not be long before there was a hole in the ceiling, and the falling house would soon be in flames—paraffin would evaporate quicker in warm weather than cold—paraffin would evaporate in the temperature where we are now—if there were a pailful of paraffin shut up in this Court it would not be dangerous, you would not have the evaporating surface which you would have if you watered it on the floor of the Court with a watering pot, you get a larger surface by sprinkling—there would be evaporation at 65 degrees from a pail—if you threw paraffin into a fire you would set the chimney on fire—if you threw a cupful on a fire it would assist to damp it—I have made experiments with paraffin—if you sprinkle a room with paraffin and then turn the gas on, the evaporation would be dangerous; evaporation would take place at any temperature, but much quicker as the temperature rises—whether paraffin leaves black traces behind after it has exploded depends entirely on the amount of vapour; you might just get to the explosive point, and the combustion would be absolutely perfect, and there would be nothing left; if you get the most explosive point, you get what I might term a very clean explosion; it always depends upon the temperature; if there is a perfect explosion there would be a clean sweep of it, and you would not find a
trace—I saw Sir Frederick Abel's report to the Globe Office, and we had a consultation afterwards—evaporation can take place at any temperature.
Re-examined. I first of all made a report on the matter, and after that I met Sir Frederick Abel in consultation, he having made a special report, and as the result of that I came here.
By MR. HARRIS. I am an engineer, not a chemist—I have experience in gas.
SIR FREDERICK ABEL . I am a chemist, having many learned grees and great experience as a chemist, and as to the properties of hydrocarbon oils—such oils are now very cheap—in proportion as they are cheap they contain a greater amount of the more volatile oils or spirit, and in proportion as they contain that greater amount of spirit they are more highly evaporated and are consequently more dangerous—they are evaporated at a comparatively low temperature—I have read the depositions in this case, and have been present for the most part during the examination of the witnesses, and, so far as I can form an opinion from what I have so heard and read, I believe that the starting-point of the explosion must have been in the ground floor front room, the dining room; that it could not, by any possibility, have been solely caused by coal-gas; but that, with or without the co-operation of coal-gas, volatile hydro-carbon oil, such as paraffin, petroleum, kerosene or benzoline, was instrumental in bringing about the explosion—the odour of petroleum, benzoline, kerosene, and paraffin is so similar that it requires a highly-educated nose to distinguish between them, and they are all, in popular parlance, known under the general name paraffin—it would be a mixture of air and the vapour proceeding from the liquid which would cause the explosion, and it would spread from the starting point throughout the mixture with a rapidity determined in degree by the amount of vapour contained in the mixture—the results would be the same in my opinion if the starting-point were in the kitchen or in the passage, at the gas bracket in the hall, however low turned down—the starting-point would be where the vapour and air met the flame—I know of no condition of things in the case of a gas explosion where the explosion would be accompanied by smoke, but on the other hand, unless the proportion of a volatile hydro-carbon oil distributed through the air be very small indeed, the explosion is invariably accompanied by the development of black smoke—the smell, as described by several witnesses, would be a natural consequence of the employment of such an agent—smell would appreciably remain for three or four hours afterwards; the smell of these hydro-carbon oils is one of the most persistent smells, and one of the smells most difficult to get rid of, and one of the most distinguishable—it does not appear to be possible, although an explosion occurring in the ground floor might extend to the first floor and cause the roof and walls to fall almost instantaneously, that the fire could so rapidly spread throughout and into both floors unless some special preparation had been made for the catching flame by the use of some volatile inflammable liquid—explosion caused by gas may be followed by flame which lives for a time, if the gas be present in large proportion, but ordinarily it produces a flash of flame which does not linger sufficiently long to set fire to even somewhat inflammable objects;
it is the same with a mixture of air and an inflammable vapour, but if an inflammable vapour exists under such conditions as we have been discussing, that is, if it has been given off from an exposed surface of oil, the flame, however brief in duration, will ignite that exposed surface and the oil wherever it may have been scattered about—it is not easy to keep down the temperature of a room, after a July day, to below seventy degrees, and at that temperature vapour would be readily given off—from its effects the explosion must have been of a very violent character—an escape of forty-five to fifty feet of gas within an hour and a half or an hour and three-quarters in this kitchen would not bring it to explosive point, it would have required at least double the amount of gas which could have escaped within the period indicated by the evidence to have produced a feebly explosive mixture in the area presented by the kitchen, and equally so in the dining-room, which is larger—if the gas had to be distributed over the house and make its way into the dining-room, it would make the explosion much less likely, since the mixture would be feebler—I cannot give a decided opinion as to whether the explosion was brought about by a hydro-carbon oil alone, or by a hydrocarbon oil plus gas; but I should be inclined to believe that the escape of gas, although it might be altogether insufficient to approach those conditions necessary for an explosion, would facilitate the action of the vapour of such a highly inflammable liquid as that indicated—I am clear that it was not due to the agency of coal-gas alone, but that it might have been due to the inflammable vapour, or to that plus coal-gas.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I formed my opinion as to the quantity of coal-gas that may have escaped upon the assumption that it must have gone through the meter; I have known gas escape in other ways than through the meter—it might escape through a crack in the main, and follow the main into the house; it would not lie there accumulating; as gas escapes it begins to diffuse into the air, even if buried in the ground; you cannot have an escape of gas collected under pressure where there is a chance (however difficult the chance may be) of access to the air—there may come a time when the house, or rooms, or a room would be full of it—the moment it got into any room it would make its presence known most unmistakably—if it got from the main under floors it would immediately begin to diffuse into the air through the floor; it would then come into the room above—it would depend on the amount escaping, how long it would be before it made its presence known in the other rooms—there is nothing to be gathered from the sound made by the explosion; the impressions produced upon different persons, under different conditions and at different distances, are very variable—smoke is of various colours—I attach importance to the fact that some witnesses have said it was dense black smoke—I think nothing is easier to distinguish than black smoke—it would depend somewhat on the atmospheric conditions as to whether it was light or dark brown, but not as to whether it was black; I am certain this was black smoke—if this charge depended on the colour of the smoke, and if it had not been quite black, it would have altered my opinion—it was scarcely dusk when the explosion took place—I had no opportunity of cross-examining the witnesses as to whether the smoke was perfectly black; I should have done so if I had had the opportunity, in order to confirm my opinion—it was a confirmatory reason for
my saying that this was not a gas explosion: the blackness of the cloud of smoke, when taken together with the condition of things such as the volume of gas which could have existed in the house, and which I put at about fifty or sixty feet, assuming there was no other inlet than through the meter—another thing leading me to my conclusion was the evidence as to the odour of paraffin—benzoline and kerosene begin to evaporate even at freezing temperature, paraffin begins to evaporate at about 40 degrees, and evaporation continues, but does not become very considerable, till you reach 90 or 100 degrees—the evaporation that would take place at 40 or 80 degrees would not be dangerous, but it would begin to be so at 90 degrees—if you wanted to set fire to a place with paraffin oil you could put it in a saucepan or kettle or something, and put it any where where it could be heated—how much you would require to blow up this Court would depend on the temperature to which it could be raised, and that would depend on whether it was allowed to evaporate freely, or confined—paraffin would be the last oil I should buy for such a purpose—you would have to heat it in a vessel up to the point at which it gives off vapour very readily, somewhere up to boiling-point—you could do it over a fire or a gas flame—it would take a good deal of paraffin to produce evaporation to cause an explosion such as this was—I could not say how much, whether one or three gallons; it would require special arrangements to carry it out—you could boil it in a basin, but before it reached ebullition from heating it over a gas-flame it would ignite; I cannot say if it would not explode.
Re-examined. Paraffin oil is rarely used now; it is used in certain superior lamps, but the oil ordinarily sold as and called paraffin is petroleum oil, and that would produce none of the difficulties as to which I have been cross-examined—it has been found necessary to introduce legislation to fix the temperature at which oil sold as paraffin evaporates, because of the danger arising from oil evaporating from the receptacle in which it is kept—substitute petroleum for paraffin, and you get the opinion I gave first intact.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I am not aware that the sun set about eight o'clock that evening; it was quite light—I don't know when St. Swithin's Day was, or what sort of day it was, nor that the day after it was very cold and wet.
GEORGE BUSH (Re-examined). I arrested Cove about a quarter to eleven p.m., on 7th October, in the kitchen at 17, Manor Road, Bermondsey, in the presence of his mother and two sisters and Inspector Dinney—I told him I was a police-officer, and held a warrant for his arrest, and I read the warrant to him—he said, "Yes, that is quite right"; his mother said, "What, you were never at Bedfont, were you, Harry?"—he said, "Yes, I was there with Leach for a week or two, off and on"—he was taken to King Street—on the way he said, "You would not have found mo if I had known you were coming; I should have been out"—I said, "Did you ever manage a coffee-shop in Catherine Street?"—he said, "Yes, that shop that I managed in Catherine Street I sold it well"—he was detained at King Street, and next day taken to Bedfont and charged; he made no reply—I saw this drawer at Bedfont among the other débris.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. Dinney put it with the other things; I did not see it among the débris lying on the ground, it had been taken in there and placed with other things which were collected—the first time I saw it was when Dinney had it in his hand; I do not know how he got it—he did not say that if he had known I was coming he would have been out, in the presence of his mother and sisters; I believe Dinney heard it, he was there at the time—the warrant did not charge him with actually setting fire to the house, but with conspiracy with Joseph Adams and Leach, and attempted fraud.
WALTER DINNEY (Detective Inspector, Scotland Yard). At a quarter to four on 2nd October I arrested Leach at the office of Messrs. Lewis and Co., assessors, Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane—I told him I was a police-officer, and held a warrant for his arrest for conspiracy and attempted fraud on the Insurance Company—he said, "All right; I will go with you willingly. Have you a warrant for Adams?"—(I made this note within an hour afterwards)—I said, "Why do you ask?"—he said, "Because Adams left town this morning for Guildford, and it will appear that he had left because of the warrant; it is not so"—he said Adams and Dormer occupied the same office that he did—on our way to the Police-station he said Mr. Lewis had just sent for him and the others; the others were not at the office, and he came up to Mr. Lewis's office, and Mr. Lewis had just been told that warrants had been issued against them, and he had only just reached the office when my card was handed in—Leach said he took Adams home, to 22, Blackfriars Road, drunk, last night, and he said he either went to Brighton or Guildford that day—he went on to say, "I did not know of Adams's fires until Mr. Lewis told me—he was afterwards charged—I went to his office, and there took possession of some papers and books—on 17th August, some four weeks after the fire, I found a six-gallon stone jar, which smelt of turpentine, on the premises.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I should not say it smelt of whisky—I had not been in communication with Mr. Lewis before Leach was arrested; I had seen him once before—I had the warrant the day I arrested Leach—I had taken a great many statements from the Bedfont firemen before arresting him—I began to take their statements on 17th August, about a month after the fire—it was at least two or three weeks after the arrest that he was first charged with arson—Mr. Lewis had given no information to the police before the arrest; he had offered to do so with regard to his client Leach—I had not asked him for any information—Mr. Lewis communicated by letter with the Commissioner about making an appointment with Leach if we wanted to see him.
By the JURY. I found the jar in the garden, uncorked and apparently empty—it was marked six gallons—I looked on it as material, and took possession of it, and submitted it to the Treasury; it was sent to Dr Dupré, who has it; I have inquired about it.
FREDERICK PETTY (Re-examined). These are the fragments of what I described as the oil-well of the lamp which I found in the heige opposite the house—it was then whole, but it has been broken since; I don't know by whom—this piece of metal and the burner was on it at the time; it was by the sash-weight.
By MR. BESLEY. I lived next door but one—I first saw the six-gallon jar smelling of turpentine when I was walking round, and when it
was dug out of the débris; there was only one—it was not at the back of Mr. Penn's house, not near the coal-shed; it was dug out of the kitchen of The Rocks—I cannot say how long I saw it before Dinney saw it—I should say I saw it twelve or fourteen days after the fire in the kitchen of The Rocks, buried in bricks, among the débris, and I saw it dug out.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES LEWIS . I am an auctioneer and appraiser, of 6, Southampton Buildings, Holborn—I was founder of the London Auxiliary Fire Brigade—I have attended a great number of fires during twelve years—I have seen fires resulting from coal-gas explosions—such explosions are to my knowledge usually followed by flames—I know of no instance of a coal-gas explosion without flames following—I saw the Bedford Head after the explosion, which covered a whole street, and drove in the areas of several houses—I saw the effects within three or four days afterwards—the gasmen were killed there—that was an explosion in the open air—I should say a coal-gas explosion was more violent when confined than when in the open air—I first saw Leach on 27th July—I had nothing to do with preparing this inventory which was sent to Mr. Bees—I think I saw Mr. Bees on 28th July, and he then became aware that I was acting in the matter as assessor for the assured—on 13th August I made my first visit to the site of the fire—all the ruins of the building and furniture had been collected, the mortar and dust rubbish in one heap, and timber in another, and remains of bedsteads, clocks, and metal-work—I said the sifting had not been done as carefully as it would be done by London salvage men, and that did not enable us to go carefully through the various parts of the claim—Mr. Rees instructed the fireman in charge of the salvage to go through it more carefully—I was informed that the fire brigade had been in possession all the time—I went with Mr. Rees as far as possible through the things; it was a very difficult task, because the things were not carefully collected—Mr. Bees and I had copies of the inventory with the prices—I found traces that corresponded with the majority of articles in the claim, except such little materials as curtains and dress stuffs, which had been consumed, but even of those I found a great many rags about—that applies to the items from 231 to 302—I should think Mr. Rees, in knocking off 40 per cent, from that, would take into consideration the wear and tear of wearing apparel—I found the remains of a piano in the débris; I cannot say what the invoice price of it was, I have not seen it—I found the indications of paintings; I saw a quantity of frames, or parts of frames—I saw nothing of a music cabinet; I should think it would probably be consumed; it would be of light wood—I found indications of books having been burnt—I think that from what I saw, taking the furniture, the wearing apparel, the books, and everything, that the furniture would be worth between £500 and £600—I saw bedsteads and the remains of ornaments, china plaques, barbotine, and others; the remains of trays, fenders, dressing-sets, and so on; some of them were intact—we found the remains of all the five clocks—I found three inkstands intact in the débris; a
square oak inkstand, with brass fittings; a circular one, and one of egg and tub pattern; £2 would not be an excessive price for them—I found two folding dinner-mats, light and dark wood alternately in slips, and two nickel rings; they may have been silver-plated for what I know—No. 172 is the item of £2 15s., which reduced the total original inventory from £791 to £786 9s.; that was withdrawn because Mr. Leach said he had made a mistake in the claim, as that had been sent without his knowing it—I took care to tell Mr. Rees that I found the remains of the legs of the bent-wood chairs—I should hardly expect to find rags of the soft goods—I could not see traces of the action of hydrocarbon oil on the wood, but I looked for it in the débris of the curtains and other articles lying about on 26th August, when I went down with Mr. Leach and Hiscock, in order to verify the claim—the ground was cleared to the level—I smelt no paraffin whatever, and I was removing them and putting them on the lawn, and I handled some of the débris—I did not go there again—on the day Mr. Leach swore the declaration I asked Mrs. Rees what he recommended his company to pay, and he said £200; I told Mr. Leach when he came back, and he was very indignant and would not take it—at Mr. Rees's request I asked Cove, through Leach, to attend at the office—I always assisted Mr. Rees in getting the persons he wanted to inquire of; he saw seven or eight other persons—everything was done by Mr. Leach to afford facilities for examination, as far as I could see.
Cross-examined. My experience as a member of the Auxiliary Fire Brigade ended about ten years ago—I got the call naturally after the explosion—I fix the value of the débris I saw at between £500 and £600, as far as I can judge—I had the claim with me, but I strongly advised Mr. Leach to take £200 rather than litigate, to get his home together, as he and his wife and family were living in great discomfort, and to pocket the loss—I first saw Mr. Adams twelve or fourteen months ago; I saw him last a week or ten days ago, before Mr. Leach was arrested—it is twelve or fourteen months since I communicated with him, but I asked Mr. Leach to bring Mr. Adams down to my office, and lie came—I saw Mr. Leach last on October 6th—I heard that a warrant had been issued—it is not within my knowledge that Adams left London that night—I cannot suggest any one who heard of the issue of the warrant earlier than myself—I heard warrants had been issued, I think, the day before Leach was arrested—I do not know that Adams left London that night—I cannot suggest any one who heard earlier than myself of the issue of the warrants—I told Leach when he came to my office on the 7th that I had heard warrants were issued against him, Adams, and several others; within five minutes of his arrival I told him that, and then one of my clerks brought in Dinney's name—I can suggest no one except myself who knew of the issue of the warrants who was connected in any way with the prisoner—I have had acquaintance with fires for twenty-five years past, some may have been incendiary—I have not acted on behalf of persons tried here—I did not act for Ingram as assessor, nor for Culmer; I know his name, he was tried here—he came and introduced himself to me as Franklin, and asked me to go to an insurance company to see what difficulty there was in his getting his money; that was not the office I fulfilled with regard to Leach—I went to Mr. Rees to go through the matter—the £200 was offered after a great number of interviews
with Mr. Rees, and going through the matter—the 31st August, when the declaration was sworn, was after I had attended the premises with Mr. Rees—I did not know Wheeler nor Ingham—I do not know of Taylor, nor of his trial—Culmer was convicted.
Re-examined. I had no connection with him, and no knowledge of his fire; he came to me, as I am well known in London as a surveyor on behalf of the public, and I have settled a great many in the course of my life—in this case I was brought in to ascertain whether the goods had been there, and their value; I was acting on behalf of Leach, as Mr. Rees was acting on behalf of the insurance company.
By the COURT. I merely made notes on this claim of the articles I examined—I knew Leach had made a claim of between £700 and £800, and I had the claim with me—with that information, and upon what I saw, I came to the conclusion that it was a correct claim in its integrity for £800, assuming the information I had got was correct—if I had gone down and simply looked at the débris, I should not have been able to have told the character of one-fiftieth part of the articles which were in the débris; so that my estimate of £500 to £600 is not an estimate made by me upon what I saw, but upon the information given to me by the claim, coupled with what I saw—the débris had the appearance of property of the value previous to the fire of £500 or £600; I had the remains of all the metal-work, the bedsteads—I did not put those items down and make an independent valuation; I did not distribute the £500 or £600 among the various items of the claim, but simply looked at the thing as a whole—Lefevre's invoice was never in my possession; I did not go to the débris after I had heard of it—I never asked to be allowed to look and see if I could identify the things in Lefevre's invoice; no one pointed out to me what items in the claim Lefevre's invoice represented; I did not inquire; I have nothing to do with figures, the objects of my visits were to endeavour to identify the items themselves—I heard the suggestion yesterday that some of Lefevre's articles were doubled in the claim—I knew practically nothing of the invoice—I knew nothing of the prior insurance, or of what was in the house at Norwood—I thought it was immaterial to make that inquiry—I made no inquiry as to whether new items had been brought in; I did not know where the furniture had come from—I adopted Mr. Rees's suggestion to bring down anybody who could throw light on the claim—if anybody comes to me directly we go down on the premises and make out the claim, and we take the statements of the assured, and we guide his views by what we see on the premises—I did not make out this claim, and all I could do was to assist Mr. Rees in his inquiries by taking down people who had removed the furniture—I did not get information as to the age, quality or character of the furniture, or where it came from; I spent four or five hours on the premises in going through the débris, and picking things up and arranging them on the lawn for Mr. Rees's inspection, so that he could see how far the remains tallied with the items in the claim.
HENRY JAMES VIGER . I am a carman and contractor at 419, York Road, Wandsworth—in September, 1890, I removed Leach's furniture from Athley Cottage, Rossiter Road, Balham, to Gipsy Hill, and afterwards from Gipsy Hill to The Rocks, Bedfont—Athley Cottage, Balaam, and the house at Gipsy Hill, in Colbey Road I think, were occupied by
Leach and his wife—the furniture that I removed was the same in every respect on each occasion; I could not swear to the number of articles, but there was a dining-table, a music cabinet, a mahogany wardrobe with a glass door, eight or nine leather chairs and various other chairs, two bookcases, a lady's easy-chair and a gentleman's easy-chair—I am accustomed to removing furniture—the furniture I removed to Bedfont was in excellent condition and of good quality—there were books and pictures—I should think the furniture would be between £500 and £600 in value—I should think the house at Bedfont was very old, because it was worm-eaten up the stairs—I removed this stone jar—Leach paid me £3 for going to Bedfont; there was a two-horse van and a one-horse van—I have had no other transactions with Leach.
Cross-examined. I did not hear that there had been a fire at Rossiter Road, Balham, nor that there had been two fires there—I took the goods from there in September, 1890, to Colbey Road, I believe it was, to Leach's residence—I don't know his address at all—I did not hear of any explosion at Colbey Road—I am not Galled on to gauge the value of the furniture I remove—I am moving furniture most of the year round—I took particular notice of this furniture because it was so clean and good and high-priced—it required two vans to remove it from Gipsy Hill to Bedfont, out we had all our work to bring it in those—I brought the same furniture on each occasion, I could not pledge myself to every article—there was not a gas-stove more to be removed from Gipsy Hill that I know of—I made no particular observation of that.
Re-examined. From my long experience, if I see a wardrobe I can tell pretty well what it is worth—I have not the slightest interest in the prisoners' affairs—there were seven or eight rooms in the Norwood house, and I should say the same number in the Bedfont house, I could not say exactly—my two-horse van was a pantechnicon van, large enough to take all the furniture of some houses.
By the COURT. I have given the principal articles—there were others—the value of the music cabinet might be £14 or £15; that of the dining-table, £8 or £9—I should think the wardrobe cost 24 or 25 guineas—one of the bookcases might be £7 or £8; the other was a hanging bookcase; I could not get at the value of that—I did not take any notice of the pictures; they were valuable oil paintings—I could not tell you the subjects of any of them, but I know they were valuable; they were old arts, like—I could not value them—I could not say one was worth £50—I know nothing about them—the music cabinet was a tidy size, and was of mahogany, inlaid with small pieces of wood.
VICTOR RICHARDSON . I am a commercial clerk, of 11, Bedford Road, Clapham—I have known Leach about two years, and have done work for him as a clerk—I have visited his house at Bedfont—I accompanied the furniture from Norwood to Staines when he removed—when Viger was there loading-up I helped, and saw the articles—I could identify the large wardrobe, of mahogany, I think it was, with a large looking-glass in the centre, and two plain doors; it divided into three parts—I saw a bookcase hanging on the right-hand side, and another bookcase was subsequently sent from the office in Charterhouse Street to Bedfont—I saw a music cabinet with a glass door and three shelves with "Miscellaneous," "Dance," and "Sacred" on them—I should imagine it was walnut
wood; it stood on the right-hand side in the drawing-room—I am not a very expert judge of furniture, but I should think it was certainly worth £2 or £3—I met the furniture at Bedfont, and helped to put the things into the house—there was very extensive bedding and bed-clothes, I know by the weight—I thought it was very heavy furniture—the value of the furniture that was moved was about £500—there was a piano there; I played on it myself at Bedfont, and made the remark that I thought it was a very good tone—I could not tell exactly when it was taken there—I did clerical work at Leach's office, Joint Stock Chambers, 89, Charterhouse Street, Smithfield—a bookcase, pedestal table, a number of architectural books, and some other expensive books were moved from there to Bedfont a few days after the removal from Norwood—I saw the pony and chaise at 89, Charterhouse Street, but not afterwards.
Cross-examined. The business at 89, Charterhouse Street was that of a business transfer agency, and an architect and surveyor—the things might have been removed from that office three or four weeks before, but I could not tell—I cannot tell how long it was after Leach had moved to Bedfont—if any architectural or surveyor's implements were taken down there it was about the same time as the others; but I cannot say if they were, I do not know—I do not profess to be a furniture valuer, but I should say I valued Leach's furniture approximately at about £500—I know nothing about the valuation of furniture—I know what it cost me to furnish my own place—I do not know anything about whether Cove was going to succeed Leach in the house at Norwood—this letter is in my writing, but it is not my signature—it is possible that I knew that Cove was going to succeed, or try to succeed, Leach in the Norwood house; I might forget such a thing as that in the ordinary course. of business.
RICHARD HISCOCK . I live at 58, Hazletree Grove, Clapham, and am an architect and surveyor of thirty-five years' experience; I have been for some years assistant to and in partnership with my father, the district surveyor of Wandsworth—I have known Leach since 1885—I have met him professionally, as an architect and surveyor, and have been opposed to him and with him in different cases, and I have met him privately; he has always been a straightforward, outspoken, honest man—I first saw him at Rossiter Road, Balham, in 1887, and visited him there on two or three occasions—I should think I stayed for two or three hours in the house—I had an opportunity of seeing that the furniture was first-class, heavy, massive, made of the best seasoned woods, and of first-class workmanship—it was good furniture—the house was very well furnished indeed—I was surprised to see such fine large furniture in the house—I also saw the same furniture at High Street, Norwood, when I went to see him on a matter of business—I should say the same as to the furniture there as I have said before—I went to Bedfont on Saturday, 4th July, and remained there till Monday, the 6th; I went down to look at some land, but I remained as a guest—I went into all the rooms on the ground floor and three rooms on the first floor—there was precisely the same furniture in the house—I noticed a piano and a bookcase which I had not noticed before in the other house—it was a light-coloured mahogany cottage piano; I played on it for an hour, and it had a very good tone indeed—
I should say it was worth between £30 and £40—I was asked to make a plan of the furniture, first from memory and then from Inspector Bush's plan; this is my recollection of the furniture I saw there in July, and of the manner in which it was placed; this is my original plan of the furniture I remembered in the house in July; I was asked by Mr. Rockingham Gill, going down in the train, to make him a plan, and I made this sketch plan—I made this plan months before I saw the detective's plan—I have the second floor plan here—I am not professing to remember every article of furniture in that house from the observation I made during that three days' visit; I am professing to know certain rooms, all the rooms on the ground floor, and three on the first floor; there were only seven rooms in the house; there were only two I did not go into—I am able to recall the position of the articles in the rooms, with the exception of the first floor front—in the ground floor front room there was a pedestal desk in the bay window, a large table in the centre of the room, a leather-covered sofa, a small round table, a music cabinet inlaid, with four divisions; I went to get some music, but found it empty—I am refreshing my memory from the plan I made on October 22nd; I have been down to the place since—[MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS considered that this plan, having been made some time after the occurrence, could not be used if it was objected to]—I can tell what was in the rooms without the plan—the mahogany pedestal desk in the front dining-room ground floor I had seen at Balham—it was a good-sized office desk with drawers, covered with black leather, in very good condition; there was the round fancy table, not 18 inches in diameter, I daresay, on the east side of the bay window; the music cabinet; a very good leather-covered sofa on the east side—there was a new piano, which I had not seen previously—between the sofa and piano there was a little fancy chair that I used when I played the piano—there was a mahogany bookcase which I had not seen before, the lower part had cupboards, the upper had shelves; it was six or seven feet high; the doors folded; it was in good condition, I think it was new—mere was a small chair between the bookcase and fireplace—in the centre of the room was a very wide mahogany dining-table; there was a horsehair easy-chair, as far as I recollect, and a leather easy-chair—in the hall was a grand-father's clock, in a case, going; an umbrella stand, a looking-glass on the wall facing the stairs, about two feet six inches, with a black frame; three American or bent-wood chairs, a table and a cupboard underneath the foot of the stairs; in the breakfast-room on the east side was a small chair, a mahogany sideboard, 4 feet 6 by 1 foot 9 or 10 inches, a very small stumpy thing, 2 feet 9 or 3 feet wide—I should not describe it as a large mahogany one—an easy-chair, mahogany as far as I recollect; a mahogany desk, the centre recessed, with drawers on each side, and an arm-chair and another small chair, and a Singer's sewing machine, in a walnut-wood case, I think, on a table, it worked by a treadle; and another chair, and a small round table, and a horsehair sofa; in the centre of the room was a telescopic mahogany dining-table—the furniture was massive, heavy, well-made by first-class workmen; I don't know when it was new, but it was good—in the kitchen was a deal table in the centre, a wooden arm-chair in the corner under the gas-meter, and in the recess on the east side was a small gas-stove about 2 ft. 9 in.
or 3 ft. high from the ground—there were three taps on the front and two down the side for the oven, I remember those distinctly—there was a dresser with shelves for plates—the shelves made a right angle to each other, and went on from the window on the east side, and from the west to the scullery door—there were also three or four chairs—when Leach asked me in July to the house he told me was so pleased with the house he thought of buying it—my room was small; it was called Arthur's room—it had an iron bedstead about 3 ft. wide; I don't know if it had a feather bed or mattress, it was very soft—there was a chair and a brass candelabra in Arthur's bed-room—there was carpet and linoleum downstairs—I do not recollect a tapestry carpet—I did not go into the servant's bed-room; I went into one small bedroom to brush my hair; there was no looking-glass in the room—in the spare room there was a white 3 or 4 feet iron stump bedstead, and a deal painted wardrobe, enamelled, I suppose; it was not a wing wardrobe; I do not think there was any glass; there was a washhand stand with tiles at the back of it, and two small cane-bottom chairs, and a dressing-table in the window with a looking-glass in it—in the front room, Mr. and Mrs. Leach's room, there was a very large mahogany winged wardrobe, with four divisions and looking-glass; a duchess dressing-table between the windows with drawers to it, a pedestal in the north-east corner, a round table and a large iron bedstead with room for two, not two bedsteads put together—there were curtains across the windows, but I did not notice what they were, I think they were a figured pattern; I cannot say if there were birds—Mrs. Leach dressed very neat and lady-like and quietly, not gaudy—I saw some books on the ground floor front, some were architectural and professional building books, and there was an encyclopaedia; we had just been to Virginia Water, and I had to refer to it—I have not the slightest interest in this case—judging from the brickwork and the timber and the tiles and the bricks, I should say the house was from seventy to a hundred years old.
Cross-examined. It was discoloured from age and not from smoke, for it is pure country there—the mortar was discoloured—I am a very pointed observer—I was invited by Mr. and Mrs. Leach for the day, and was invited to stay till Monday—I had never seen the gas-stove before, and was very much struck by it being so much smaller than the one at Norwood—I remember five taps, because I have got one at home—I did not see one of the taps turned on; probably they might have been cooking something when I passed through—I had time to observe it—there was a painted suite in the second-best bedroom; I cannot give you an idea of the value of it—I did not notice the suite in the best bedroom.
Re-examined. In the front bedroom there were lace curtains, and when I went down afterwards I saw a piece hanging in a tree, and recognised it—I examined the débris.
HARRIETT WEBB . I am the wife of John Webb, of 24, Musted Road, Clapham Junction—before I was married I was in service at Athley Cottage, Balham—I was the only servant—I used to lay the cloth for dinner, and put on knives, forks, and mats—I believe there were six mats and table-napkins, and six or eight rings and a tablecloth—the house was very nicely furnished; in my master's bedroom there was a very large wardrobe, a double washing-stand, a dressing-table with a swing glass, and a lot of bed-clothing in good condition—the table-cloths were good;
the floors were covered with carpet and some linoleum—there was a music cabinet—I went and saw Mrs. Leach in 1889, after I was married, and the furniture appeared just the same—I remember the jar produced, being there; I do not know it by any mark, but it is exactly the same size—I have worked for Mrs. Leach since.
ALICE ADMANS . I worked for Mrs. Leach in 1889, and down to August, 1890, at Athly Cottage, Rossiter Road, Balham; I went there every week, and some times twice a week—no other servant was there—I have not been into all the rooms—the furniture was very good; all the rooms were furnished; Mrs. Leach made her own bed, and I do not know what was on it—I remember a walnut table in the bay window—I know walnut from mahogany—it had iron legs—I never saw the music cabinet open, it was a square cupboard with a glass front, and alone the top it was inlaid with little work—there was green baize over the door.
Cross-examined. I was there in March, 1889; there was not a fire on the premises then nor in October, 1889.
GEORGE BUSH (Re-examined). The gas taps on the stove are only about three inches from the ground; the stove is three feet two high, and the taps are about four inches below the top of the stove—there is an opening for tins to slide in—there is gas burning over that, deflecting the heat on to the things cooking underneath.
G. F. FOULGER (Re-examined). About five hours would be required to bring the escape from the meter up to the explosive point; that would be 150 feet; you want ten parts of gas to nine of air.
Leach received a good character.— Six Years Penal Servitude each .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. FORREST FULTON and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. PAUL
HARRIET ELDRED . I am a widow, and live at No. 7, High Street, Plumstead—I had known Mrs. Caroline Wood for about a year and a half; she came to my house about a year and a half ago, and stayed with me two or three months—on 24th September last she came to my house about seven in the morning; she knocked me up; she was very drunk—after some entreaty I took her in—she remained with me till 2nd October; during that time she was sometimes in bed, sometimes up—she had a deal of stout during that time; she was drinking most of the time—she was about thirty-nine, as near as I could judge—she only ate one meal; that was on the Sunday after she came; I offered her food, but she refused—she was not always drunk; she had drink every day; she did not go out to get it; my daughter and a young man got it for her—I knew it sometimes, but I have to get my living at the laundry at the back of the house, so I did not know exactly what she did have—the prisoner is her husband; I saw him when he came there on 30th September—he asked me if his wife was there—I said she was not—she had begged and entreated me if he came to say she was not there, and
he went away without seeing her—on the following Friday evening, 2nd October, he came again, between eight and nine—his wife was then in the back parlour in bed—the prisoner pushed the door open, and walked right in—my daughter ad just been for some stout; Mrs. Wood asked me to pour out a glass, which I did, and I was just handing it to her when he came in; he knocked the stout out of my hand, and called me some very offensive names—he said to his wife, "I want my money and my keys"—she said, "I have none"—I went to the mantelpiece and took two keys, and gave them to him—(she had had two pots of stout that day, this was the second pot that was sent for; she was not drunk, I don't think she was sober)—he then took her clothes off the table, put his hand in her pocket and took something out, I don't know what it was; he then took up the remainder of her clothes, hung them on his left arm, and pulled her out of bed, and dragged her violently across the passage; she only had on her chemise and a flannel petticoat—as he dragged her along he struck her head violently against the wall of the passage; she did not want to go with him; he had his two hands underneath her arms, pulling her along and dragging the mats after her; he deliberately knocked her head against the wall, and then against the street door; then he opened the street door and pulled her out, and she fell down between the gate and the door, and struck the back of her head on the stone step by the door; it appeared to me that he let her fall—he picked her up and stood her up again, and then he told the people that crowded round the door that I had robbed her of her money and turned her out of doors, and the crowd became so violent that I ordered the door to be shut—she had a very nice wedding-ring on her finger, and a keeper with a clasp to it, and he took them off at the door—she said, "Don't hurt my hand so; don't hurt my arm"—then there was a knocking at the door, and I told my daughter to open it, and they asked for her boots, and they were handed out, or rather her shoes—that was all I saw of her—at the time she left my house, she only had a small bruise on her left arm; it looked like an old-standing mark; right on the bone of the arm.
Cross-examined. I have young men lodgers, and I keep a laundry—William Groom is not a lodger—William Holland is the only lodger I have now—the last solid food deceased had in my house was on Sunday, the 27th; I gave her beef-tea; she dined with me on that day; she only ate very little; before that she only had some beef-tea; no solid food, only stout and spirits—she paid me 12s.; 9s. she paid for attendance, the rest she had borrowed of me; she gave me that on Thursday, the 25th—I saw no gold in her possession, only the half-sovereign she paid me, with the 2s.—I did not tell the prisoner when he was there that his wife was covered with bruises—my daughter and my daughter-in law were in the passage when he took her out—they were trying to put her clothes on, and the prisoner said, "I will take her out and expose her"—I did not threaten to split his head open with a poker, or use any language to him—I had given her beef-tea twice, a breakfast-cup each time—I did not give her whisky; she was very troublesome for stout; she had four or five pots during the day—I think she was the worse for drink during the nine days she was with me—the prisoner handled her very roughly at the door; I could not positively swear that he knocked her out—I did not push her out—she ad been stopping at my house once before this, from May to July—her
habits were not the same then; she carried on business as a wardrobe dealer, and occupied two rooms, and took things out, and had people there—she appeared to be suffering very much from drink when sue came to me this time—she did not complain of suffering.
ADA MARTHA ELDRED . I live with my mother at Plumstead—I remember Mrs. Wood coming there at seven in the morning—she remained till 2nd October, when her husband came to fetch her—I used to wait upon her; I used to fetch stout for her—she was mostly drunk of a night—I was present when the prisoner came for her between eight and nine on 2nd October—he came in and pulled her out of bed, and knocked her about a good bit, pushed and shoved her about—she had on a chemise and flannel petticoat; she was not drunk then; she was ill—I could not say what was the matter with her—he got her to the front door and knocked her down—I think he opened the door—he had hold of her by the arm, I think; I could not say for certain; I was not there at that time—she did not walk to the door; he pulled her along; her feet were on the ground—before she got to the front door I tried to put her clothes on, a skirt and bodice—that was before the door was opened, but her skirt fell off, and he pushed her, and she fell right on to the kerb, and lay there about Ave minutes; she fell on the back of her head—before that he bashed her head against the wall four or five times in the passage—he called her a drunken beast, and a filthy beast, and told her to stand up on her feet—a crowd assembled outside; they threatened to break the windows, because he told them a lot of lies; he said we had spent all her money—I shut the door—he sent for a constable and a cab; it was about a quarter of an hour before the cab arrived—my sister-in-law was with me in the passage; mother was in the kitchen ironing, while the deceased was outside—before that she was at the back part of the house most of the time; she did not see all that was going on in the passage—I could not say what part she did see; I believe she was in the back parlour when he bashed his wife's head against the wall—I was trying to stop him from knocking her about—I told him to give over; that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and my sister-in-law tried the same—mother might have been behind.
Cross-examined. We had two men lodgers then—I was not the only person that fetched the woman drink; my sister-in-law did, and one of the lodgers—I never saw any money in her possession, only what she gave for drink—I did not hear her complain of her arms in the passage—she had her stockings on—I could not see any part of her thigh or her back; only the top part of her shoulder-bone; nobody could see below that—this was between eight and nine—she had been in bed all day—she was generally in bed, or sitting in the room—I did not hear the prisoner say that when she left home she had not a bruise on her—I did not hear him call out for some one to fetch a policeman—I did not know the man Groom before this—I did not slam the door on her hand.
Re-examined. She had her chemise on; you could see the top part of her bosom; the naked flesh—there was no bruise at that time.
WILLIAM GROOM . I am a builder, in Ripples ton Road, Plumstead—on 2nd October, about half-past eight in the evening, I was passing 7, High Street, and saw a crowd at Eldred's gate—I was quite a stranger to everyone concerned in this case—as I came up I saw the front door was open—I saw the prisoner and Mrs. Wood standing in the passage—
as far as I could see she only had on a petticoat and chemise—he was holding her up by her shoulders against the passage wall, continually shaking her against the wall; then he pushed her outside on the flag-stones; she fell straight down, all of a heap; he lifted her up, and held her against the side of the front door—seeing that she had on only the petticoat and chemise, I asked him if he could not manage to get her away—he said he had a horse and cart outside, but it was loaded with potatoes—and then he said someone had gone for a cab—he was swearing at her a great deal, calling her a drunken beast; and he said, "Here's a pretty mother of six children"—her boots and jacket were thrown out of the house, and I helped to put on the jacket; when the cab came I helped the prisoner to get her in—she was partially helpless; she was able to stand—the prisoner asked me to assist him in getting her into the cab, and I did so; I got in also, and we all three drove to 11, High Street, Woolwich, the prisoner's residence—he had a secondhand wardrobe shop there—on her way there Mrs. Wood leaned forward out of the cab window, and the prisoner pushed her back; that was done repeatedly as we went along—when we reached the corner of Eyre Street she leaned out again, and the prisoner caught hold of her by the neck and thrust and pushed her head right out of the window and said, "Let the people see what a b----drunken beast you are"—on arriving at his house he immediately jumped out of the cab, caught hold of her legs and commenced pulling her out; I caught hold of her arms to prevent her head falling on the pavement; he had not asked me to do so; her head would certainly have fallen on the pavement if I had not done that—in that way we carried her through the shop into the passage—she said nothing in going there; but when we got to the passage she called out, "Not there, not there,!" as it was dark—I asked the prisoner where we were going—he said, "Lay her down here a moment, I will get a light"—we did so, and then he took her into the back room—she asked me if I would assist her to get up—I got her up on her feet, and she said, "As soon as you are gone he will beat me unmercifully"—he was not there then, he had gone for a light—another person came in, and between us we assisted her on to a couch—she got upon her feet and walked to a little table or piece of furniture in the corner, and just then the prisoner came in, and immediately went up to her, put his hand on her throat, and threw her down with all his force on the couch, her head striking against the window-sill—she was about three feet from the couch—it was a violent push—he then went out of the room, and the female prisoner came in—had not seen her before—she called her mother a drunken beast, and said, "I wish you had drowned yourself in the ferry, as you said you would"—the deceased then got up off the couch and walked to the fire-place, and said, "Amy, I am your mother"—she said, "I suppose you are," and with that she went up to her and threw her back on the couch, just as her father had done, and her head struck violently on the window, as it had done before—she did not complain of being hurt—she did not speak at all afterwards while I was there—I said to the female prisoner, "You have no right to do that to your mother"—she said, "Oh, she makes me so wild"—she said that just as the male prisoner came in—he had a piece of rope in his hand, about three or four feet long, like this (produced), and he said, "Call and see me another time, will you?"—I said, "Yes," wished him good night, and left—I left the
deceased on the couch—she appeared dazed, as if she had sat down on the couch and leant her head back on the window—before leaving I assisted to put her jacket on—all her neck was bare and all down between her two breasts—there were no marks of violence about her neck, or any marks of violence whatever upon her.
Cross-examined. Beyond what I have stated I did not see the female prisoner touch her mother—I could not swear that her head fell against the window-sill—she was a biggish woman—she was not rolling about in the cab—she was not drunk; she appeared to have been drinking—Mrs. Gaston assisted me to get her on to the couch—as far as I could see she did not hurt herself when she fell on the stone steps outside Mrs. Eldred's house—the prisoner pushed her down; there was no one else there to do it—the door was opened to pass her clothes out—she did not try to enter then; someone inside pushed her back and closed the door—her hand was very close to the door, but I don't think the door was closed on her hand—I think the prisoner said, "You have shut her hand in."
WILLIAM GIBBS . I live at 39, Cage Lane, Plumstead, and am a workman employed in the Royal Arsenal—I know nothing of the parties connected with this case—about eight in the evening of 2nd October I was in High Street, Plumstead, and saw a number of persons outside Mrs. Eldred's house—the male prisoner was standing on the doorstep; the door was open—I saw the deceased lying on the pavement outside the doorway, her head in the forecourt and her whole body outside—there is only one step; her head was clear of the step—she remained in that position about ten minutes to a quarter of an hour—I went and fetched a four-wheel cab—I saw her put into the cab and driven away with her husband and Groom—before I went for the cab I saw the house door shut; the people in the house were rather anxious to get the parties away, and the door was closed upon them and I saw no more.
Cross-examined. I did not see the woman pushed outside the door, only the door gently closed behind her—the prisoner had hold of her and when the door was closed she fell gently down—I did not see him use any violence to her; as far as I could see he treated her with kindness; he was anxious. to get her away home—I was about three yards from them—I am sure it was not Mr. Wood that pushed her out of the house, but somebody inside.
FRANCES GASTON . I am the wife of John Gaston, a coachbuilder at Woolwich—I have known the deceased some years—on 2nd October I was in the prisoner's shop, 11, High Street, when she was brought in—she appeared to be very weak and ill—I assisted to get her into the parlour, and remained there with her some little time—she only had on a jacket put over her chemise—I saw her neck, and right down below her waist—there were no marks of violence upon her—I heard the prisoner call her a drunken beast—I left the parlour, leaving the witness Groom there; she was partly lying on the couch as we put her—I saw the female prisoner there; she called her mother a drunken beast, very much the same as her father did.
Cross-examined. I did not see Mr. Wood use any violence towards his wife while I was there, nor the daughter—I went into the parlour with the deceased, and stopped there about a quarter of an hour—I
think there was a time when both the prisoners were absent from the room; during that time the deceased was not doing anything, she was lying as we put her—she spoke to me—I said to her, "Do be quiet, I will get you anything you want if you will only be quiet, "because I thought she was going to say something—she was not rolling about—I had heard she was very violent when in drink, and I thought she was going to get up and make a disturbance—Mr. Wood had told me lots of times that she was violent when in drink.
By the COURT. I have known Mr. Wood some years—the general opinion is that he is a very sober, decent man, but a very spiteful one.
HERBERT KING . I am an outfitter, of 15, High Street, Woolwich—on the evening of 2nd October I met the prisoner in High Street—referring to the fact of his wife having been away, he said, "I have got her home again"—I said, "Where did you find her?"—he said, "Down Plumstead Road, with some women"—I said, "Was she drunk?"—he said, "Not drunk, she was drugged, they were pouring it down her"—I said, "here is she?"—he said, "I have her indoors"—I said, "Are you not afraid she will get out?"—he said, "No, she can't get out, I have strapped her hands and feet" or "hand and foot," I am not sure which.
MATILDA BLANCHARD . I am the wife of William Blanchard, an engraver, at Woolwich—I have known Mr. and Mrs. Wood some years—on the morning of 3rd October, about half-past eight, the male prisoner came to my house and told me his wife was fainting or dying, but he believed she was dying, and asked if I would come over—I went with him—I found her on her back on the floor in the back kitchen—she had on the skirt of her dress and a chemise very much open—I saw marks on her, very black, all the way up both sides, and a very large black mark across the chest—they were bruises.
Cross-examined. I asked him if he had been for a doctor—he said he had—he afterwards went again for a doctor, and I waited till he came back—I had known them by sight thirteen years—I have spoken to them, but had no dealings with them, not on visiting terms—I think he is very much respected in the neighbourhood, as far as I have heard—I have seen his wife every day.
JAMES TEES . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 144, High Street, Woolwich—the deceased had been a patient of mine before the 3rd of October—I attended her for the results of drunkenness—on the morning of 3rd October, about 8.40, I was called by the prisoner to his house—I got there about 8.50—I found the deceased in the back kitchen lying on her back on the floor with a pillow under her head—she had on a petticoat and a chemise, which was open down the front—she had been dead I should say about ten or twenty minutes in all probability—she would cool more quickly from want of clothing—I noticed a bruise on the right temple; one eye was considerably blackened, the other slightly so, and there was some dried blood on the entrance of the nose, partially hanging from the nose—the upper lip was bruised and lacerated, the right chin bruised, a large bruise extending across the base of the neck, anteriorly, and a slight bruise, not recent, on the left side of the chin—that was all I noticed just then—next day I made a post-mortem in connection with Dr. Logie—externally we found bruises on the neck, shoulder, upper and lower left arm; the left hand—upper and lower
right arm, left hip, thigh, and lower limbs, and semi-oval marks—internally, on removing the skull cap, I found slight extravasation of blood corresponding with the bruise on the right temple, with some slight extravasation behind, about the size of the palm of the hand, and oval markings, the dura mater and other membranes congested, the brain itself softened, the right lung healthy, the left had marks of old adhesions—the heart fairly healthy—the cause of death was exhaustion, the result of chronic alcoholism and want of food, death being accelerated by shock from recent violence—all the injuries of any importance had, undoubtedly, been caused within twenty-four Hours—this piece of cord may possibly have caused some of the bruising, but not the oval markings—I don't think the bruising might have been caused by the woman falling, in a state of intoxication—some of them might—undoubtedly death was accelerated by the bruises which could not have occurred accidentally.
Cross-examined. The mark across the neck might have been caused by pushing her across the sill of the window in the cab—I do not think that anything described by Groom accelerated death, but it might—she was a woman of such habit of body and weight as would naturally inflict injuries on herself by falling about.
By the COURT. I should not consider the bruises on the back of the head and temple serious in themselves, but taken in connection with the others they would occasion considerable shock—the woman was very much organically diseased—I should not have been a bit surprised at her dying any day, even without actual violence, provided she was going on as she had been—there was nothing particular to immediately connect the violence with the death, except that the brain was congested—I think there was a connection, but I really do not know how to explain it to your satisfaction.
JAMES LOCIE . I am a registered medical practitioner at Woolwich—I assisted Dr. Tees in making the post-mortem examination—I have been in Court and heard his evidence, and agree with it—I should not have been surprised at her dying at any moment, even without violence—-if she had refrained from alcohol, and had proper nourishment, she might have lived a month.
GEORGE FOLKARD (Inspector R). About a quarter to six in the evening of 10th October I went with another officer to 11, High Street—I there saw the two prisoners—after cautioning them I said, "We are going to take you into custody for being concerned together in causing the death of Mrs. Wood during the night of the 2nd"—the male prisoner said, "Yes"—the daughter said, "And me too, dad"—shortly after the male prisoner said, "I know I am innocent, and I know my daughter is innocent"—we took them to the station—I afterwards returned to the house and found this cord hanging on a nail in a small cupboard in the passage; also a broken chamber on the top of some lumber—the sash of the back parlour window was splintered in two places—afterwards at the station, when they were charged, the male prisoner said, "You will find yourself mistaken about the cord, also about the window"—the window and cord had just been spoken of by Groom.
me, for the purpose of ascertaining the cause of death—I produce the original depositions signed by them in my presence. (The deposition of Charles Wood contained an account of his wife's drunken habits and absence from home, and stated that on the occasion in question she had left home, taking with her £37, and having ultimately traced her to the house of Mrs. Eldred he did his best to remove her, but denied the use of any violence).— NOT GUILTY .
The evidence in the last case was read over to the witnesses, and accepted as correct. AGNES A. WOOD— NOT GUILTY . CHARLES WOOD received a good character— GUILTY of a common assault, under great provocation. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted and MR. PURCELL Defended.
EDWIN DAVIS . I am manager of the New Cross Branch of the London and South-Western Bank, Lewisham High Road—the prisoner opened an account there in June this year in his own name—on 30th July I had written authority from him only to accept cheques countersigned by his wife—I have not got a copy of the account—on the 10th November the account was overdrawn, and on that night I went to the prisoner's house with reference to it; I cannot swear as to whether I saw him; if I did not see him I left an over-draft notice—afterwards I saw him and spoke to him about the over-draft—he had no authority to overdraw his account—on 3rd December, 1890, this cheque marked "C" for £5 10s., payable to self and dated 28th November, signed George Mason and not countersigned, was presented for payment—we had no funds at the time with which to pay it, and it was returned marked "Requires another signature"—another cheque on the same account was presented for payment and returned on the same day.
Cross-examined. The prisoner's account was opened by a payment of £50—in the course of a day or so he received a book of cneques containing twenty-five or fifty cheques—he may have increased his credit to £66 10s. that month; I cannot say; he paid in about £400 altogether—to the best of my memory there was a balance of £31 15s. to his credit at the end of June—I believe on 30th September the accounts showed that his credits had amounted to upwards of £300; I cannot say if there was a balance to his credit then; I should not like to say there was not—from 30th September to 3rd November there might have been payments of £57 13s. to his credit—if there are two answers that can be put on a cheque when it is returned you can put which you like; if a cheque that requires two signatures is presented with only one signature and there is no money to meet it, you can say another signature is required—both cheques that were not paid were of the same date, and were presented for payment on 3rd December; the second one came through one of the London banks—I did not see the prisoner on the
same day—there was not on 3rd November an overdraft of £18; there were small overdrafts at different times, which were paid off; the largest could not have been more than £1 or £2, and that could not have happened more than ten times—I had been calling at the prisoner's house in reference to the overdraft of November.
Re-examined. I know nothing of any business carried on by the prisoner—at the Police-court his pass-book was produced, and handed to me to swear to an amount, and then handed back—I did not see him after November 10th with reference to his overdraft; I went to his house more than once about it—nothing was paid in after 10th November.
JOSEPH GROOM . I keep the Valentine and Orson, Long Lane, Bermondsey—on 28th November the prisoner came in and asked me to cash this cheque for £5 10s., as he wanted some petty cash—I had seen him not many days before; I took possession of the house on the 17th—I gave him £5 10s., believing the cheque was a security for the payment of £5 10s., and that £5 10s. was waiting for it—I paid it in, and it came back three or four days afterwards; I saw the prisoner, I think that day, and I told him I had got his cheque returned, requiring another signature; he said he would get me another cheque signed properly for it—he got me no other cheque—a few weeks afterwards I went to his house and told him I came for the other cheque, and he said he would see his wife; he was afraid she was too ill to sign it—he came with me to New Cross Station, and then got out, saying he would go to the bank and follow me on, and bring me the money—he did not come on to me afterwards—I have not seen him since.
Cross-examined. This was the first cheque I had changed for the prisoner—I sometimes change cheques for customers; I should recollect if I had changed a cheque and paid it in, and had the money for it—the prisoner did not give me cheques for £7 and £5—I do not think anyone else in my house would cash a cheque—my wife sometimes looks after the house when I am out; I have given her orders not to cash cheques.
Re-examined. I went into the house on 17th November.
ARTHUR JEFFREYS . I am manager of the London and Provincial Bank, Bermondsey branch, Old Kent Road—on 8th July the prisoner came and mentioned the name of a customer, and said he wished to open an account; he said he had no business; that he was expecting money from a mortgage which he was trying to effect, and he would pay in several hundreds—he called on the 9th, and on the 10th he came professedly to complete opening the account, and to pay in—I took a copy of his signature, and I called to my clerk for a cheque-book and a paying-in book; in the course of conversation the prisoner took up the cheque-book and slipped it into his pocket, and then after a few more remarks he made some excuse about not having the money with him, or something to that effect, but that he would be back in half an hour to pay in the money, and he went out with the cheque-book—I did not like to question his bona fides by demanding it back, as I thought it was a genuine transaction—he came the next day, and I asked for the cheque-book—he said he had not got it with him—I went to his house on three occasions, but did not see him—he never paid any money in—four or five cheques out of that book
were presented for payment; these are two of them—I did not authorise him to draw any cheques.
Cross-examined. The Bermondsey branch has been open since 1st May; I was the first manager—the prisoner said he was raising about £1,000 or £1,200—he asked me if I raised money on the mortgage of deeds; he did not suggest that if he failed to raise it he would come and see if I would do it; I said it was part of a banker's business, but I did not say I could get it for him at 5 per cent.—the interview commenced about opening an account, and he immediately signed the signature-book—I am anxious to increase our customers—I did not say, "I should like you to sign the book to show that customers are increasing"—he said he knew several local people to whom he could introduce me, and that he could introduce several customers to that branch—on the 9th I went with him in business hours to the King's Arms, where he introduced me to Mr. Morris, an omnibus proprietor—I never went with him to the Bricklayers' Arms, and he never introduced me to the manager and Mr. Kingsman, nor to Mr. Ball—I knew the manager before, and I have never seen Mr. Kingsman—I did not go to the Swan—I don't think I expressed thanks for the introduction, nor said I would do all in my power for him in return—on 19th he brought a Miss Johns as a customer to open an account, and the prisoner told her he was going to lend her £100; she opened a small account—on the 10th the prisoner's wife came with him and signed the book; he had said before she was coming, I think—he gave no reason why he and his wife had a joint account—I am certain the prisoner put the cheque-book in his pocket—I am certain he said nothing about drawing cheques—I did not say he might draw a cheque for a small amount—I had had no experience of management before—the last I saw of the prisoner was on 11th July—I did not communicate with the police on that day—I gave evidence before the Magistrate on 14th October.
Re-examined. The prisoner did not introduce me to the landlord of the Valentine and Orson—after the 11th the cheques were presented, and he never came near the bank after that.
FREDERICK THOMPSON . I am a stationer, at 289, Brockley Road, about twenty minutes' walk from the bank in the Old Kent Road—between eleven and twelve on 11th July the prisoner came in and laid down a cheque ready drawn for £3, the payee was not filled in, and said, "Here you are, Mr. Thompson; here is the money if you think you can take it out of that"—my name was filledin—heowed me 25s.; I gave him 35s. change—I believed it was a genuine cheque, and that he had money at the bank to meet it—he had had an account with me for some time, and had always paid cash before—I paid the cheque into the bank, and it came back—after that I saw him passing my shop, and I asked him if he could pay me the account—I had communicated with a Trade Protection Society in the meantime—he said he felt surprised I should have communicated with them, and he had just been up to see them, I understood him to say the day before, with his wife, and he had made it all right with the society, because he had told them he was going on to see his solicitor to order them to pay in the amount of the cheque—I did not see him again till he was in custody—he never paid me.
Cross-examined. I communicated with the police—the prisoner lived near me, and had been dealing with me for about eighteen months; he
had paid me on former occasions; sometimes the account had run for four or five months at about one shilling a week.
JOSEPH HENRY HIND . I am a clerk in the Northern Insurance Company, Moorgate Street—on 23rd July the prisoner come in to effect a fire insurance on some property—I asked him for a deposit of £2 to secure the proposal—he took out a cheque-book, and a man with him wrote out a cheque for £3, and he asked me to give him a sovereign out; I did so—I did not notice that the cheque was post-dated—it was paid in and returned marked "No account."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of misdemeanour in April, 1886, at this Court.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LEWIS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
CHARLES KINDER . I live at 94, Faraday Street, Camberwell—on Saturday night, October 17th, about 11.45, I was at Cherry Garden Pier, Rotherhithe—I was sober enough to know I was on the pier—I met the two prisoners—they asked my business; I said, "I want a boat to go to my ship"—they agreed to row me there, and after walking a few yards they separated, allowing me to go before them, and when I was in front received two blows, which were not heavy—one of the prisoners must have given me the blows, because there was nobody else there—I as seized by the throat, and one of them, I think West, searched my right trousers pocket, and took out 9 1/2 d. in bronze—I said, "You have taken all I have got; let me go"—West said, "The b----has got it here," pointing to my left breast pocket—and then Roach put his hand in my breast pocket, and took out four separate shillings—when I left home I had five shillings, one of which was a Jubilee shilling of 1888: that was taken from me, and I have not seen it since—I was thrown to the ground on my back, and they knelt on me and put their hands on my throat and searched my trousers—I tried to gain my feet, and struggled with one of them, but found them too strong for me—I missed my bag from my shoulder containing provisions and clothing—they ran away, and I called "Police!" and got up, and, looking to the right, I saw the two prisoners hastening away as fast as possible—I pointed them out to the police, who ran after them, and I saw them in custody the same night—they were taken about forty yards from the spot.
Cross-examined. I was not sitting on Cherry Garden Pier with my legs dangling over the water; nor did one of the men come up and shake me, and say that I should get drowned there; nor did I say, "I am on my ship"—one man did not tell me that I was not sober—I had left my house in Faraday Street, Walworth, between nine and ten o'clock, after taking my supper with my wife and family—it takes me an hour and a half to walk to Cherry Garden Pier—I had some ale in the Duncan,
and got change to pay the boatman—I had half a pint of ale for my supper, but nothing after I left the Duncan—I was perfectly sober when I was on the pier—a man named Telford did not, to my knowledge, come up while these men were holding me on the ground—my bag has been found—both the prisoners said before the Magistrate that they found me on the pier in danger of going over.
Re-examined. After I was assaulted my bag was not near me—I never saw it till the following Monday.
JOHN PINFOLD . I am a labourer, of 64, Cherry Garden Street—on this Sunday morning I was near Cherry Garden Pier with two other men, and heard a cry of "Police!"—I went towards the place, and saw the prisoners kneeling on Kinder, who was on the ground on his back—West got up, and said, "All right, you are not in a hurry, Jack"—I went for the police—two policemen ran after them and brought them back—Roach said, "Again for nothing."
Cross-examined. There was a light at the corner of the alley—if you wanted to catch a ship you would walk to Cherry Garden Pier—this alley is about twenty yards from the pier, and leads to it—when I came up the two men were leaning over the old man—they did not appear to be pulling him up—I don't think I told the Magistrate that Roach said, "Again for nothing"—I was alone—there was a police boat on the other side of the river—the alley is in sight of the river—I cannot say who called the police—he holloaed out as loud as he could, but he seemed as if he had something over his mouth.
ALFRED MOODY . I am a carman, of 7, Searl's Alley, King Street, Rotherhithe—on 17th October, a little after twelve o'clock, I was near Cherry Garden Pier, and saw the prisoners kneeling on the old man—there were about six of us together—West said, "Hold on, you are not in a hurry, are you?" and got up off the prosecutor, and we went and told the police—Roach did not get off the prosecutor—the police came up, and the prisoners ran—there were no lights; it was quite dark—I saw the prisoners at the station.
Cross-examined. I believe Roach had his hand over the prosecutor's mouth—one of the prisoners did not say that they found the prosecutor drunk at the pier.
JOHN WOODS (M 443). About 12,20 on this Sunday morning I was called to Cherry Garden Pier and saw the sailor just getting on his feet—he said, "Stop those two men"—I saw two men running away, and gave chase to Roach and caught him—he said, "Oh. we are caught for nothing again"—on the way to the station he said he had never seen the prosecutor before, and he had only just come out of a public-house—the prosecutor had come up then—he was not drunk, but he had had a glass; he knew what he was about—Roach said that he went up to prevent his falling over the jetty, as he was leaning halfway over—he was bleeding below his left eye, but not much—two shillings in silver and a halfpenny was found on Roach; one was a new shilling, of 1888, and one was a very old one.
HERBERT HAYLETT (Policeman). I was with Woods and saw two men running away—I caught West—he said, "Blind me, governor, I have never seen the old bastard before"—on the way to the station he said, "I wish it had been for £40, you would not have taken me so easily then"—when I first saw the prisoners they were about fifteen yards
from the prosecutor—the prosecutor had had some drink, but he knew what he was about—I found a sixpence and fourpence on West.
Cross-examined. He did not look like a man recovering from the effects of drink—I found this bag thrown in a doorway, 15 yards from the prisoners.
Re-examined. I found it where the assault took place.
Roach, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he heard a man snoring on the jetty, and called to West to look, and then shook him and said, "Do you know where you are?" and he said that he was on his ship, and that he had lost his bag; that he tried to get him away for fear he should drown; but he said one of them had got his bag, and then said he had chucked it into a barge. West stated that he heard a man snoring, and found the Prosecutor with his legs hanging over a wall, and told him he would be drowned, and he asked for his bag, and said he had thrown it into a barge, and as he was going away the witnesses came up.
GUILTY . ROACH then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Southwark Police-court in September, 1883, Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
FREDERICK FOX (Inspector P). On 15th October I was keeping watch on 63, Bird-in-Bush Road, Peckham—I saw Sarah Bishop, whom I knew as Mrs. Worms, come out—I followed and arrested her, out of sight of the house, and sent her to the Police-station, and then I immediately went into 63, Bird-in-Bush Road—I pulled a string in the centre of the door, it opened, and I entered without making any noise—I went into a room on the right-hand of the ground-floor, where I found Williams holding this shilling in one hand and filing it with a file which he held in his right—I and Dove seized him; he dropped the file, and shut his left hand—I took the shilling from him—I found in two handkerchiefs-open on the table, 70 base florins, 121 base shillings, and 7 base sixt-pences—in the bag, which was" fastened, not locked, was this mould; ie was by the side of the table in the centre of the room, close to whers Williams was sitting—behind a chest of drawers I found two clamp, and two ladles—in the room was a tin box; I got the key of it from Bishop, and found in it 22 base shillings, wrapped in strips of newspaper—I sent Williams away to the Police-station in a cab at once—not long after Davis was brought into the station by Dove, who handed me packets containing in all 38 counterfeit shillings and 38 counterfeit florins—he said he had found them on Davis—I said to Davis, "I have got Mrs. Worms and Williams here, and all the moulds and coining implements, as well as a lot of base money. You will be charged with being concerned with them in possessing the moulds, with manufacturing base coin, and with possessing these 176 base coins"—he made no answer—I said, "What is your name?"—he said, "William Davis"—I said, "I know you as Billycock Charley; will you tell me where you
live?"—he said, "No"—half an hour later I saw him; he gave me another name and address—Dove wont there—Davis said, "My wife has nothing to do with it; don't upset her, but break it to her gently; you will find nothing there"—I took possession of two bags at the house—Davis was detained at the station, but when I returned I was informed that he had gone—subsequently I received information—I communicated with the Chatham Police, and then I went to Chatham and found the prisoner in the police-station there, and arrested him—I said, "Well, Charley, we have met again"—he said, "You cannot blame me, Mr. Fox; I saw the oppor-tunity and I got away"—I brought him to London—on the way he said he wanted to know what I was going to do him for—I repeated the charge—he said, "How can you do me for making?"—I said, "You have been seen by my officers to visit the house, 63, Bird-in-Bush Road, several times, and you have been seen in company with the man Williams"—he said, "I was in the house the day before, when he was making, but I did not take any part in it; I have been in the habit of visiting the old woman for a long time, but you can only do me for what is found on me"—I was present when all these things were found; molten metal, pieces of glass, copper wire, silver sand, plaster of Paris, antimony, and other things; they were all on or about the table, with the exception of the two ladles and the clamps, which were behind the chest of drawers.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The officer who had charge of Davis has told me that he went outside the room, and when he returned Davis was gone—I do not blame him for going—yesterday morning this bill was found with other bills, and then about two o'clock another bill was preferred before the Grand Jury, for possessing 176 coins—I did not hear it suggested that this case would not be tried yesterday because there was another bill going before the Grand Jury—you made some application about it, and Mr. Wilkinson did not quite agree as to adjourning it for that purpose.
THOMAS DOVE (Sergeant P). I was watching this house, 63, Bird-in-Bush Road, on 13th October, and I saw Davis go in there about three o'clock—he appeared to let himself in—he remained there about twenty minutes, and then went to the public-house by himself—on 14th another officer watched—on 15th I was there, and about 1.30 I saw him go into the house; he was just on the top of the steps going into the door when I caught hold of him—I said, "Do you live here?"—he said, "No, I have been led away"—I said, "I shall take you into custody for being concerned with a man who was making bad money here this morning"—I told him I had seen him there before—he said, "You will find what you want in my coat pocket"—I found in his right-hand coat pocket this rag, which contained eight little parcels containing these thirty-eight bad florins and thirty-eight bad shillings, separately wrapped up, with paper between each—I said, "These are all bad"—he said, "Yes, I had them from the man here yesterday, and I was bringing them back"—I took him to the Police station—I handed the coins to Fox.
Cross-examined. In poor neighbourhoods I think a string through the door to pull up the latch is rather common.
watch, and about 1.15 I saw Davis enter this house—about 1.40 he came out with a jug, and went to the Maismore public-house close by, and then returned with the jug to the house—after about twenty minutes he came out again with Williams; and they went into the publichouse together—in fire or ten minutes they came out and went back into the house—about 3.30 Davis came out and went towards the Kent Road.
ROSE WILTON . I used to rent some rooms at 63, Bird-in-Bush Road, Peckham, from Mrs. Bishop, who occupied the right-hand room on the ground floor from 22nd May, when I went there, till she was arrested—I have seen Williams come to the house, not very often—he was not a lodger there—he went to Mrs. Bishop's room when he came—I know Davis by his coming to the house—I first saw him about a month before his arrest or longer, and sometimes I saw him two or three time a week, and sometimes I did not hear him come at all—he went to Mrs. Bishop's room—he used to come about ten or eleven in the morning, or in the afternoon—I cannot say who was in the room besides Davis when he came on those visits; I never went into Mrs. Bishop's room only when she was there by herself—I do not know if Davis and Williams were ever in the room together; I always shut my door when I was in my room on the opposite side—Davis was the first to come there.
Cross-examined. I knew nothing of the house before 22nd May—Davis might have been coming to the house for two months; I did not notice the time—I had no more reason for noticing Mrs. Bishop's visitors than other lodgers—I think I had two or three conversations with Fox before I gave evidence at the Police-court—I have seen Davis come with a little girl, and go with her into Mrs. Bishop's room—the little girl was his daughter, I believe—I cannot say if she was in the room when Williams and Bishop were there—I have been in Bishop's room when she was alone; I saw nothing suspicious or startling there—on one occasion Bishop gave him some wood to take to his wife—no one stopped in her room all night—I don't know how long ho stopped in the room—the only other lodger in the house was Mrs. Reece—Fox saw her—I am a widow—Davis frequented the house before Williams.
SELINA REECE . I lived at 63, Bird-in-Bush Road till 26th October, occupying the kitchen downstairs and a room on the second floor—I have seen Davis at that house three or four times, I think; he went into the room on the right-hand ground floor when he came—I have seen him there twice or three times a week—I have never seen him in the room; I have never been in the room when he has been there—I have seen him at the door of the room—I saw him with Williams at Bishop's door about a month before the police searched the place.
Cross-examined. Davis said he came to tea with her on Sunday—I have known him to be there with a little girl—when I saw him at the door with Williams there had been a little bother in Mrs. Wilton's room—I saw Davis taking away a cart-load of wood, which Mrs. Bishop gave him for firewood—I knew him from 22nd May—Mrs. Bishop let half the house to Mrs. Wilton, who sublet to me—I saw Davis there before I saw Williams—I go out to work, and Williams might have come without my seeing him.
Re-examined. I believe the wood was taken about two months before the men were arrested.
on 15th October I found on Bishop twenty bad shillings, separately done up, and fifteen shillings and sixpence good money.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coins to Her Majesty's Mint—there are here seven single moulds for making counterfeit coin, two for florins, three for shillings, and two for sixpences; 347 counterfeit coins, several unfinished; 108 of these are florins, 232 shillings, and 7 sixpences; the majority of them are from the moulds produced—35 of 38 florins on Davis are from one of these moulds, and 22 of the 38 shillings found on him are from the shilling mould—this is a piece of metal known as a get, which was broken off one of the sixpences—most of the coins are wrapped up in narrow strips of paper, with paper between, and are then wrapped up in half loads of ten—some of the bad coins are very good—these articles are used in the manufacture of counterfeit coin.
Cross-examined. I believe the middleman is the man who is supposed to hold the coin—sellers as well as makers have the coins wrapped up—we do not usually find the maker is also the utterer; the maker does not run the same risk nor make the same profit; the number of makers is small—bad money is conveyed from the maker to a central part and circulated.
NOT GUILTY .
67. WILLIAM DAVIS was again indicted for unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession, with intent to utter; having been convicted in March, 1875, to which he PLEADED GUILTY .**— Six Years' Penal Servitude. WILLIAMS**— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude. BISHOP**— Three Years' Penal Servitude. ,
The prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, whereupon the JURY found him GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Judgment Respited.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM FOOTE (P R 25). On the morning of the 24th October I was in the Old Kent Road on duty in uniform, when the prisoner walked past me muttering to himself—I said, "Halloa, old man, what is up?"—he said, "I have left them behind"—I said, "How many?"—he said, "Three"—I said, "Where"—he said, "Trafalgar Road, Woolwich"—I said, "What are they going to do there?"—he said, "They are going to do a confectioner's shop and two other jobs if they get the chance"—I took him into custody, and to the Rodney Street Police-station, where I found in his possession this mask, glass-cutter, table knife, nine ordinary and two skeleton keys—he was charged.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were not intoxicated.
WILLIAM Moss (Detective Sergeant P). On the morning of 24th October, about half-past two, I saw the prisoner detained at the station, and said, "How do you account for the possession of these things found on you?"—he said, "They are my property, I have left three others down at
Woolwich to do a job down there"—he said the three men were going to crack a public-house and a confectioner's shop in the Plumstead Road; they had had a quarrel about dividing some 30s., and they had given him 4s., and they had cut him up for that—he gave the names and descriptions of the three, and said they were mace men (meaning housebreakers), and came off the Dials—he was not drunk; he had been drinking, no doubt—he was charged—he said, when asked his address, "I refuse it, and shan't tell you nothing more."
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he was drunk when he spoke to the policeman, and had told lies.
In his defence he repeated that statement, and added that the mask he had made for a Guy Fawkes for some children; that the keys he had taken at different times during the demolition of old buildings; that the glass-cutter he had carried with him for two years past, and that he had used the knife to out up carpet, and put it into his pocket by mistake.
WILLIAM Moss (Re-examined by prisoner). You worked for five years with Mr. Beaton, a builder, of 19, Endon Street, Pimlico, as a general labourer, plumber, and bricklayer—you left there last June, owing to the strike, and have done no work since.
By the COURT. His right name is Richard Mann; his father and mother are respectable people living at Pimlico—he also worked for Mr. Williams, a builder, in pimlico, for three years, and his character was good—he has a wife and one child.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted.
EDWARD BAKER . I am a fishcurer, of 87, Tabard Street, Borough—on 8th October I was in the prisoners' company, and about ten a.m. I went into a urinal in Chapel Court—as I was coming out Williams seized me by the throat, and said, "I have got you"—I said, "What are you going to do?"—he said, "I am going for them"—I said, "For what?"—he said, "I am going for your lot—I struggled with him, and pushed him out, and partly got out myself—he said, "Now then, come on," and he and Collins rushed at me and shoved me back again—I struggled, and forced myself out into the open place, and should have got away but for Collins crossing and preventing my getting away—Williams ran at me, and said, "I will have you now"—he tried to get my watch and chain, and seized mo by the collar—I put my hand up to prevent him, and he said, "Leave go"—I said, "I will not"—he said, "I will gnaw your b----hand off if you don't," and he began biting my hand—I struggled with him, and got hold of his collar; someone behind pulled my arm away—my hand was bitten—I halloaed out "Police!" and "Murder!" as loud as I could—Collins, I am pretty near sure it was, came and kicked my legs, and I fell, and as soon as I fell someone else kicked me in the ribs—I struggled as well as I could, but I seemed to lose all power, sense, and everything—this (produced) is a piece of my chain; these are my watch and locket.
Cross-examined by Williams. I never saw you in the urinal—I did not say I had plenty of money, nor did I take out my watch and swing it round my head—I was not tipsy; I don't think I had more than two glasses—I have the marks on my fingers and legs—I never saw you
before this recurrence—my chain was not in my pocket at the Police-station—I had a watch—I believe all the chain was found the same day—I have not said to anybody "I am very sorry I have locked these two men up."
Cross-examined by Collins. I first saw you about half-past nine in the morning—I asked if you were out of work, and would you come to have a glass of ale—I saw no females in the public-house—I said I did not like the company in the public-house, and you said, "They are all right"—I treated them to get rid of them—I have been in the Borough occasionally with young women, whom I have found hard-working, respectable persons, as far as I know—I next went to the Bell; I called for two glasses of ale—I don't recollect drinking with a female—you did not say, "Baker, you had better go home".—I do not recollect that the publican persuaded me to go home; I think I recollect saying to him that I was in bad company—I was hemmed in and could not get out—you asked me to give you something, and I gave you sixpence—after leaving the Catherine Wheel I went up the Borough by myself—I did not give you into custody at the same time as "Williams, because I thought they had enough to do to take him, and I knew I could get you when I wanted you—there were three policemen, and three of you and two dogs—I have known you about three years—I have drunk with you about three times—one night you came round and said you were looking after me—I don't know anything about your preventing me being robbed—the girls have seen me home when I was drunk.
By the COURT. I gave Williams into custody—I think I told them to lock Collins up.
JAMES FARRER (M 168). About a quarter past ten a.m. on the 8th October I. was on duty near Chapel Street, Borough; I heard a noise, and went and saw a crowd of persons at the corner of Chapel Court—I crossed the road and saw Williams on the top of and striking Baker, who was on the ground—Williams, when he saw me, jumped up—I asked Baker what was the matter—he said "Lock up that man for robbing me; he seized my chain"—I took Williams into custody; he came quietly as far as St. George's, when he threw this portion of a chain from his right hand—Archer picked it up—when charged at the station he said, "Yes, I threw it away," meaning part of the chain—he had been drinking, but ho perfectly well know what he was doing—the prosecutor had been drinking, but he knew what he had been doing.
FRANK ARCHER . I am a tailor, of 169, Borough High Street—on this morning I was outside my shop, and saw both prisoners go up the court—I heard a noise and looked into the court, and saw Williams come out of the urinal, holding Baker by the shoulders; Baker came out very nearly backwards—Collins caught hold of his right arm and helped Williams to throw him to the ground; Collins was one side and Williams the other—a constable came up the court and Collins got up—Williams was taken into custody—I followed behind Williams, who threw away this piece of chain—I picked it up and handed it to the policeman—Collins then said he would punch me in the b----g eye, and attempted to make a blow at me.
Cross-examined by Williams. When you came out of the urinal you you had both hands round his neck, I am sure.
Cross-examined by Collins. You were both down on the ground with
Baker—I should say that this lasted about seven minutes, from the first I heard of it—I could not go for assistance; I had to look after my property and to keep the crowd away; I had to obey my employer—I did not speak to the constable when you spoke to me, because he had all his work with Williams—I could follow to the station because another assistant had come downstairs then, and half the crowd had gone—I did not see you kick Baker or use any violence—I did not see you holding the door of the urinal.
MARY ANN PITMAN . I am the wife of William Pitman, 11, Upper George Row—I am a charwoman—I can see into Chapel Court from my kitchen window—on this morning I heard a horrible noise up the court, looked out of the window and saw Collins holding the urinal door; as I screamed he left hold of the door, and Baker and Williams came out, struggled, and fell to the ground; Williams' arms were round Baker's neck—when Baker was on the ground Collins had hold of his right arm, and had one hand on his chest—about that time a constable came up, and I was called away to get my dinner.
Cross-examined by Williams. Your arms were round Baker's neck, and you were kneeling on him afterwards, when Collins was holding him down.
Cross-examined by Collins. When they came out of the urinal you followed after, and helped to throw Baker down with your right hand, and held him down—I could not see if you used violence when he was. on the ground—I saw you for about five minutes—I could not call anyone's attention, to it, there was no one else there then—I did not go to the Police-court till I was fetched—it did not seem as if you were assisting Baker.
JAMES BISCO . I am a carman at 59, Snow's Fields—at 10.15 on this morning I was passing down the High Street, and I heard a scream up Chapel Court, and went to look, and I saw Baker on the ground; Collins was holding him, with one hand on his arm and the other on his chest, and Williams was on the other side of him—other people came up, and a constable came and took Williams—I lost sight of Collins till I saw him against the church; I saw the piece of chain thrown away, and heard him say to Archer that he would nit him in the b----g eye—Archer picked up the chain, and gave it to the constable.
Cross-examined by Williams. The urinal is a very short distance from the bottom of the court.
By the COURT. The little piece of chain that was thrown away had a locket attached to it.
Cross-examined by Collins. I did not see you use violence—there were several people up the court, who prevented me seeing any more—I did not see you at the bottom of the court after it was over.
JOHN LEWIS (M 168). I received information of this on the afternoon of 8th October, and took Collins into custody from a description—I said, "I am going to take you to the Police-station on suspicion of being concerned with another man in a highway robbery this morning"—he said, "Right; I was there; I witnessed it, but I never laid hands on the man; I was drinking with him all the morning"—I took that down as soon afterwards as I could.
Cross-examined by Collins. When I took you you were talking to a constable.
BRIDGET CARNEY . I am single—I live at 13, Maypole Alley, and work as a furrier—I was in Baker's company in the Catherine Wheel—he called for a quartern of whisky and a pot of stout and mild—there were four or five in his company—I saw you in the crowd up the court; I did not see you do anything; I did not see you go near Baker.
Williams, in his defence, said that Baker asked him to drink, and that he became very drunk; that the locket and chain fell down, and there was a struggle for it.
Collins contended that all that teas said against him was that he had hold of Baker's arm.
WILLIAMS then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of Felony in February, 1885.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. COLLINS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY* of indecent assault. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. HUTTON AND SOULSBY Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTON for the prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
77. WILLIAM BROOMFIELD was again indicted for that he, having custody and charge of Eliza Broomfield, did unlawfully and wilfully neglect and ill-treat her, thereby causing her suffering and injury to health.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
SARAH PAICE . I live at 250, Tabard Street, Borough—the prisoner, his wife, and two children, one nine and the other three, occupied one room in our house from some time in June, soon after Whitsuntide—his
wife gave birth to another child there; I saw it about eight days after it was born; I had been in the country for about seven weeks from the 1st July—I don't know its name—I saw it two or three times each day—when I first saw it was a very ill, very small baby—the wife attended to it, she fed it from the breast-1 know she had not sufficient food—about fourteen days after, as near as I can remember, she came to me and asked me to read a label on a bottle; she was going to give her baby the medicine—the baby was always sick, and cried all night—the mother had been to Guy's Hospital, and brought me the powders she had from there; she could not read nor write, and she asked me what was on it before giving it to the baby—the day before the baby died I advised her to go to a doctor—she said she had been to the doctor, and he said it was getting better—she had no money to take it to a doctor; I offered to lend her the money—on Sunday night, the 4th, the child died—during the two or three weeks before it died I saw the prisoner two or three times, not frequently; I have seen him sober a couple of times, but more often drunk than sober—she slept in the room with his wife and child; he would go out in the morning.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. After the adjourned inquest you came to your wife in the public-house and said you had met your old matter, who had asked you to do a job of work, and you were going to do it—I did not see you give your wife any money on the Saturday afternoon; you offered her ninepence, and she said, "I shan't have that"—I said to you, "Give the woman the money you have got, and let her lay it out," and you almost threw it at her—I did not borrow a shilling of it—you went out costermongering on the Thursday before the inquest.
JAMES WISTOWE . I am a confectioner, at 78, Rosebery Avenue, Holborn—I am landlord of 250, Tabard Street, the top room of which the prisoner rented at three-and-sixpence a week—he lived there with his wife and two little children, and another child that was born in the house—I constantly went to the house; I saw the prisoner about five times a week; I mostly saw him the worse for drink; I might say on each occasion I saw him he was drunk, he was never sober—on the Saturday, the day before the child died, the prisoner came in about seven or eight p.m. the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. It was not half-past eleven before you came—it might have been eight o'clock.
JAMES PICKLES (M 409). I have been on duty in Tabard Street—I know the prisoner by sight; I have seen him four or five times altogether between August and October this year—he has always been drunk—about three months before the child's death I saw him once with his wife—lie was drunk—she said, "Why don't you give me some money to got some food for the children?"—he swore at her and told her to go away—I saw him two or three days before the Sunday on which the child died; he was drunk—the woman was always perfectly sober when I saw her—I never saw her drunk yet.
Cross-examined. I never saw you at work.
ROBERT BRYANT . I am landlord of the Manchester Tavern, Tabard Street—I know the prisoner and his wife—he has been in the habit of attending my house at times during the last two or three months—he and his wife were there on the Saturday night before the Sunday of the child's death—the prisoner was drunk; his wife was sober and crying—
she came in first, and the prisoner came in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards and made a blow at her—I could not say whether he struck her or the child, but the child dropped on the floor, undoubtedly through the blow—I did not hear anything particular said by either, there was a general scrimmage between them, and I had to get out and eject them—I stopped them from going further—there were one or two more women in the side box, and they began halloaing.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It might have Seen six or seven o'clock; I cannot swear to the time—I never told you about four months ago that I signed a bill for Robert Davey for £20, nor did I say, "God help the first brushmaker I have any dealings with, I will make him suffer for the lot"—I don't know that I ever spoke to you about Davey—I have not made a mistake about the Saturday.
By the COURT. The woman was carrying the child in her arms.
MARIA BROOMFIELD . I am the prisoner's wife, and lived with him at 250, Tabard Street—we have two children, one not quite nine and the other not quite three, and a third was born on 7th August last—she was not named—she died on Sunday, 4th October, when seven weeks old—during that time she did not have enough food; I did not have enough food. for two or three months before she was born, nor after she was born until she died, because my husband was out of work for a week before Whitsuntide, and I only had what I earned myself for the other two children and myself—after the birth of the child I could not get any work myself; I could not go out, and they would not give me work to do at home—my husband was still out of work; he lived at home with me from the time of the birth till the death, except two nights and a day when he was away in the country looking for work—he knew before he went out that I had no food—when I took my baby to the parish doctor the relieving officer would not give me an order till my husband went up; he refused to give me a doctor's order for the baby which I had with me—my baby had been under the hospital before that—when I was told my husband must go up he was in the country, and did not return till the Tuesday; then I told him—I had got a half-pint bottle of diarrhoea medicine from Mr. Reed, which Mr. Smith had written me out a paper for—he opened my baby's eyes, but he did not tell me what to do, or say that I wanted nourishment, or anything—they told me if I came again to get relief my husband must come—I told my husband, and he said it was too late that night to go; if the child was no better on the Wednesday morning he would go and see if he could get an order—I do not know whether he went—I cud not go into Mr. Bryant's house, the Manchester Tavern, the night before the child died; it was about a fortnight before the child died; my husband hit me in the mouth, and that knocked the child out of my arms—I had just gone in for half a pint, and my husband, who was inside the house, rushed at me without saying anything.
Cross-examined. You were so very seldom sober when you were at home, that I could very rarely talk to you—Mr. Bryant did not tell me to say anything—I was not always in his house; when you were in full work, earning 5s. or 6s. a day, you allowed me 10d. or 1s. a day to keep four of us, and you wanted four meals a day out of it, and if I did not get you a hot dinner you would not eat it—that was before this child was born—I have had to draw what I earned to find you hot dinners.
JOHN GEORGE BAKER . I am a brushmaker, at 156 and 160, Tabard Street—I have employed the prisoner on and off for about ten yean—from beginning of August till the middle of October he could not have worked for me if he had applied, until the Friday his child died, when I told him I would give him another chance—he earned 30s. a week comfortably when in work—I would not employ him because he used to get drunk—if he was sober I would have employed him.
FRANK REED . I am a doctor, living at 304, Walworth Road—on 29th September Eliza Broomfield came through an order given by the relieving officer to me, bringing a child about two months old, very delicate-looking and much emaciated—the woman told me the symptoms—I gave her some medicine—on the 5th October she came for a certificate of death—I refused it, and on the 9th made a post-mortem examination by order of the Coroner—the cause of the child's death was starvation—a mother cannot feed a child at the breast if she has insufficient nourishment herself.
MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS considered that no case of wilful neglect or wilful ill-treatment had been established against the prisoner, and directed the JURY to acquit him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted,
GUILTY of indecent assault .— Judgment respited.
The cases of Sydney Kershaw, removed to this Court from the Manchester Assizes, and of Elkanah Clarkson and others, members of the Salvation Army, removed from the Lewes Assizes, were also tried at this Sessions.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1891.