CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FOURTH SESSION, HELD FEBRUARY 8TH, 1892.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE.
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, February 8th, 1892, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. DAVID EVANS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Hon. Sir CHARLES DAY , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir HENRY EDMUND KNIGHT , Knt., Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M. P., Aldermen of the said City; PHINEAS COWAN , Esq., JOSEPH BENALS, Esq., HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Esq., and JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Knt., Q. C., D. C. L., Common Serjeant of the said City; awl ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's Court; Hex 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.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EVANS, MAYOR. FOURTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been preciously 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, February 8th, 1892,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Prosecuted.
THEODORE BUHL . I carry on business as a dealer in stamps at 11, Queen Victoria Street—I have seen the prisoner about three times—he called at the end of July or the beginning of August, and produced what he called a V. R. stamp, similar to this (produced)—it was a black penny English stamp, with V. R. in the two top corners—the ordinary black English stamp of fifty years ago bad Maltese crosses—I looked at it without examining it much, and told him it was a forgery, and that I had seen it that morning—I recognised it; it had been sent to me by someone else to ask if it was genuine—when I said it was a forgery I referred to the letters V. R., the Maltese crosses being erased and the letters V. R. being printed in place of it—the prisoner was rather indignant about it—he said ho had bought it from someone; I believe he said an old gentleman at Wimbledon, and that he knew it was genuine—I returned it to him, and he took it away—about a week or two afterwards ho showed me an Indian stamp similar to this (produced)—it purports to be a four-anna Indian stamp, with the Queen's head inverted—I told him it was a forgery, or rather, that it had been altered, making it a forgery—either the head or the frame had been erased; the stamp was printed in two printings; one had been taken out by some chemical means, and the forged one was printed the wrong way—this was a very few days before 28th August, 1890, and I believe it was a Saturday afternoon—this stamp (No 7.) is a 12-cent. green Mexican stamp of 1868, the colour of which has been by some means changed to brown—that was shown to me at the Police-court; not by the defendant—the green stamp would be worth about 3d.; the brown would be worth from 30s. to 40s.; the ordinary black 1d. stamp, with the Maltese cross
would he worth 2d.; with the Y. R., from £7 10s. to £8—the ordinary value of the four-anna would be about 2s.; the other might be about £20.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I believe my brother gave information to the police—I was asked to come as a witness; I was present all the time—I told you distinctly that the black stamp was a forgery—I believe you said, "If you do not believe me, ask some one else"—I have been a dealer eleven years; hundreds of thousands of stamps pass through my hands every year—I have stamps in stock to the value of £20,000—I guarantee everything I sell as genuine—I sold a blue Tolima to Mr. Bright; he returned it, believing it to be a forgery—I told him it was not, but I would return it if he wished; I did so, and have the stamp in my pocket now, and it is absolutely genuine—Mr. Bright did not threaten me with legal steps if I did not return the money—I reproduce stamps for illustration—I have engraved blocks in the possession of my printer at Plymouth; he uses them to illustrate our books—this (produced) is a block made from a drawing, not from the original; we sell reprints—reprints are printed for the Government they belong to; they are reprints from originals—when dealers have originals in their possession they could "print as many reprints as they like, with the sanction of the particular Government—there is a difference between a reprint and an original; the difference between them is 7s. 6d. and £40—as to the Peruvian stamps, one of the Post Office officials was dismissed for selling reprints as originals—I know Mr. D'Arenberg; he is a witness—I have known him about four years—he has recently given me information about forged stamps—I did not give him tips for it—I did not offer him money to give me the prisoner's address; I did to some one else—I refuse to say who the other person is.
Re-examined. It is no part of our business to be in possession of acids and dies—reprints have nothing to do with the black English stamp, or the Mexican or Indian stamps; there are no reprints of any such stamps.
MAURICE GIWELB . I am a stamp dealer, of 38, Leicester Square—on 12th August, 1890, the prisoner came to my place and produced a black old English 1d. stamp with V. R. in the corners—the ordinary black stamp with Maltese cross is very common, and could be bought for one penny and twopence, but those with V. R. are of the value of £8 now; the price rose last year—I purchased it from the prisoner for £4—subsequently I ascertained that it was forged—that the Maltese cross had been done away with, and the V. R. printed in—on 18th August he brought me this Mexican stamp, which I bought for £15—it is coloured brown—there is a green stamp of the same appearance exactly, except the colour; that is worth very little—I believed it was a genuine brown stamp at the time, and in that belief I bought it—afterwards I examined it with a genuine brown, and ascertained that it had been coloured—I think I saw the prisoner once afterwards, and I told him all about it—when he sold me the black 1d. stamp he said he got it from an old gentleman who had had it in his collection for about twenty years—I intended to return them to him, and wrote him some letter of the kind, but I thought afterwards I had better keep the stamps, and I did not return them.
Cross-examined. It was about seven o'clock when you came to me; I had to open the door to look at it—but I trusted more to you at the time;
I had no stamp to compare with it—you gave me your address, and arranged to give me back the money if the stamp was bad; I always reserve such things if I am not certain—I asked you to bring or send me other stamps; it is my business—you sold me with the Mexican stamp an unused English stamp for ten shillings; that was genuine—I never parted with the Mexican stamp nor with the black V. R. stamp—I found they were wrong by examination, and by showing them to customers—I am not a chemist—I wrote you a letter in which I said I returned you the stamps; I intended to return them, and wrote the letter, and then, on consideration, I thought I had better keep the stamps till I got the money back, and I swear I did not return them—I forwarded the letter without enclosing the stamps purposely—I must have sent the letter in a hurry; it was a mistake. (Mr. Buhl interpreted another letter written in German by the witness to the prisoner, in which he said that he must make inquiries about the Mexican stamp, as he believed the colour had been chemically made, and that he had already sent away the black V. R. stamp.)—I have been stamp-dealing for twelve or thirteen years—no stamps have been returned to me within two or three years—I guarantee every stamp I sell as genuine; I make sure that it is so before I sell it—I advertise myself as an expert to examine doubtful stamps, free of charge—I could not find out at the moment about the Mexican or V. R. stamps; afterwards I did—if stamps are sent to me and I have no similar ones to compare with them, I ask other people—these were rare stamps—about two years ago I bought stamps of Mr. Hart; I had no other business with him, because I heard he was dealing in forgeries—I did not know Mr. D'Arenberg more than a week before this case began—Mr. Theodore Buhl sent him to me, as he could give me information in this case—I had not spoken to him before—I had done no business with him before—since, I have bought some old Indian stamps of him—about three, on the day of your arrest and before it, I saw D'Arenberg in the street at Moorgate Street Station—we arrived at the station together—after you were locked up I went with him and the police-sergeant to your rooms—I was interested in what we could find—we were there from perhaps about half-past six to eight—we watched the sergeant searching for forged stamps and dies; I did not search, but simply looked on—there were papers on your table—we looked in your boxes and cupboards—D'Arenberg helped the sergeant to open the boxes and so on, and I looked on—we were always together in the same room—the sergeant was there all the time; we went with him from the station—on the way I stopped to tell Mr. Phillips of your arrest, and that we were going to search your rooms, and he said he was very pleased that forgeries would. be stopped to a certain extent—I produced the black V. R. stamp when the summons was applied for and the warrant issued—I think I took it back with me; I had it in my possession afterwards, and produced it afterwards at the Police-court on 3rd December—I did not produce the Mexican stamp at the same time, because I did not think it worth while, as I thought the other was quite sufficient to convict you, till the solicitor told me to put it in also—I did not keep it back intentionally; I did not think of putting it in.
Re-examined. When we went to the prisoner's house I knew he had been arrested, and I knew from the detective what had been found on mm; I told that to Mr. Phillips.
CHARLES REYA . I am a bookseller at 2, Harris's Place, Oxford Street; I do not usually deal in foreign stamps—on 2nd December, 1890, the prisoner called on me and showed me this, which purports to be a four-anna Indian stamp, having the head inverted—he said he had a very valuable and scarce stamp to offer, and showed me this—I replied, "I am not a buyer of stamps; I do not understand stamps"—he said it was worth £20 or £25—I asked him how much he wanted for it; he said £8—I asked him whether it was a good one—I said, "Will you leave the stamp on approval?" he said, "Yes"—I asked him to reduce the price to £7 10s.; he did so, and left the stamp—I took it the following day to Messrs. Stanley Gibbons and Co., stamp dealers, of 8, Gower Street—I there saw Mr. Phillips, their secretary, and sold him the stamp for £15—the following day, December 3rd, the prisoner came and I paid him £7 10s. for the stamp, and took his receipt—I certainly believed it to be a genuine stamp when I took it—a few weeks afterwards the prisoner called on me and snowed me this blue penny Cape of Good Hope stamp, and said he had another very valuable stamp, and I asked the price; he said something about £3 or £4—I asked him who the stamp belonged to; he said to him and his brother—I asked him to leave it on approval, and to call the following day—I went to Stanley Gibbons and Co. and offered it to them—they said they wished to keep it for examination, and afterwards I received this card from them with pencil writing on the back, "Received one Cape changed to represent a penny blue; detained by us for further inquiries"—I sent the card to the prisoner—the same evening I wrote to Stanley Gibbons and Co.—I never saw the prisoner again—he has never asked me for any more money—I have not paid him anything for the Cape stamp; I did not purchase it.
Cross-examined. I have no knowledge of stamps—if Mr. Phillips had not bought the stamps I should have gone elsewhere—he examined the stamp and then said he would have it—he asked for a guarantee, but I declined giving him one, as I could not say anything about the stamp—I asked him £15—Mr. Phillips bought it on his own risk—I did not sell that stamp on commission for you—you said you were very hard up and had some stamps, and you offered it to me—tin's stamp is the same that was produced at the Police-court, because I looked at it through a glass; it has two water-marks and the inverted head; and I should say it was the same stamp that I sold to Mr. Phillips—I should say the Cape stamp is the same I sold him; there is a gloss at the back of it—on the Wednesday, when the proceedings were taken out, I knew for a fact that the Indian stamp was bad—the sergeant called on me and said I should have to attend as a witness—I made the acquaintance of Buhl and Giwelb in the Court; they did not write to me—I have not paid the £7 10s. back to Mr. Phillips, he has not asked for it, and I do not feel obliged to pay anything back, because Mr. Phillips bought it on his own risk.
Re-examined. The prisoner had previously proposed a transaction with pictures, but it never came off—I said I should only take the stamps on approbation—he wanted the money directly.
CHARLES JAMES PHILLIPS . I am secretary to Stanley Gibbons, Limited, stamp dealers, of 8, Gower Street—on 3rd December, 1890, the last witness called on me and showed me this, which appeared to be an Indian four anna stamp—I examined it, and then bought it for £15—on
22nd December he called again, and showed me this blue 1d. triangular Cape of Good Hope—I examined it, and noticed that it was a chemical change of colour; it had been originally a 1d. red or carmine—in consequence I wrote this pencil note on the back of one of our cards, "Received one Cape, changed to represent a 1d. blue; detained by us for further inquiries"—I never saw the prisoner—after his arrest I was shown in a pocket-book by the sergeant two Indian four anna stamps with inverted heads, similar to this one—in consequence I submitted the one I had purchased to Major Evans, the expert—I can swear positively that these two stamps, the four anna and Cape of Good Hope, are those I received from the last witness.
Cross-examined. I am both secretary and managing director—we have a very large trade—I have ten years' experience—I did not find out this four anna stamp when Reya offered it; I used an ordinary glass, not a microscope; I daresay I spent five minutes over it—sometimes I spend a longer time over a stamp—I believed this was genuine—I sold it a week or fortnight afterwards to Mr. Douglas Garth for £20, and he says he had the stamp in his possession the whole time till he gave it back to me in December, a week or fortnight after this case—I asked him to give it back, and I paid him the money back—we guarantee all our stamps to be either genuine stamps or reprints, according to which they are—Mr. Garth was entitled to believe a stamp bought from us was genuine; that, no doubt, would be his impression—clerks have access to our stamps; we do not lock them up—we publish the Stanley Gibbons Stamp Journal; Major Evans is editor—we use blocks for illustrations; they are at our printers at Plymouth—we also issue a catalogue with 3,000 illustrations—imitations of stamps could be printed from those blocks, but they would not deceive anyone; possibly four anna and Mexican stamps could be printed from our blocks; the printers are the only other people who have access to our blocks; they come to me, and I send them to the printers—I detected at once that the Cape stamp was bad—it was engraved on and printed from a copper or steel plate, and such a stamp does not exist in blue; the only one printed in blue was printed from a wooden block, and differs from this in every respect—I believe the stamp is altered in its colour—the genuine stamp printed from the wood block would be worth £25 or £30—I have no knowledge of chemistry, but I know the colour is altered from the blurred appearance, and because I know that such a stamp did not exist—Mr. Garth was the first person to whom I showed the Indian stamp—I kept it in my pocket—I did not show it to Major Evans—we fix our catalogue price by the supply and demand.
Re-examined. I examined the Indian stamp under a microscope afterwards, and have no doubt it is a forgery, and can give my reasons; the" red portion of the stamp is printed over the post-mark—the shape of the letters in "India" and "anna" is different from those in the genuine stamp—the paper is different; it is very much softened and of more porous nature, and the post-mark is of a brown colour instead of jet black, as it ought to be; it shows the action of an acid.
JOSIAH HARPER . I formerly carried on business at 12, Church Street, Islington—in March, 1891, the prisoner came and took apartments at 8s. 6d. a week—he gave the name of Dr. Bernhardt—letters came for him, in about equal numbers, in the names of Dr. Bernhardt and Assmus—the name Assmus was used latterly—several registered
letters came; some have come since the charge was made and have been returned—some letters came with the Bournemouth post-mark—he said he expected remittances for stamps, instead of which he said they had returned the stamps—he said he was sending stamps to Bournemouth for approval—he stayed with me nearly nine months, up to the time of his arrest—this rent-book is in his writing; it is my signature.
HARRY HILCKES . I am a German—I am manager to Messrs. Bright and Son, booksellers and stamp dealers, at the Arcade, Bournemouth—they are known throughout the trade in consequence of advertising—on 14th August, 1891, this letter came from Mr. A. Bernhardt, 12, Church Street, Islington. (This enclosed four Baden stamps, and offered them at 5s. each, or 18s. for the four, and stated that in a few weeks he should have some old Bavarian stamps and others)—a few days afterwards we had a letter from him enclosing twenty-four stamps at 3s. 9d. each—we replied, offering 15s.—we received this letter. (Accepting the 15s., and stating that in a little time he could get forty stamps if he was paid 4s. a-piece)—we accepted those—I placed a few of them on approval sheets and sent them to customers—in consequence of some communication made to me about one of them I telegraphed to Mr. Bright, who was in London—he investigated the matter, and came back and gave me information, and I got back the stamps I had sent out—we had sent the prisoner a cheque for £55s., for which we got acknowledgment—we returned the Bavarian stamps which he sent, because they were all forged—we received further letters from him, with reference to buying a large collection for £2,000, and then he wrote that he was introduced to a war correspondent, Dr. Assmus, who had the matter of the collection in his hands, and had liberty to show or sell it as he liked—we wrote this letter. (Stating that they would be pleased to make Dr. Assmus acquaintance, and that they thought it would be the easiest way to come to an arrangement with him)—in one of his letters he said, "I have been collecting stamps nearly thirty years, and know as well as people who consider themselves infallible what is original and worth to be collected"—we also had this letter. (Stating that Br. Assmus, who was in Paris, would call at the beginning of the next week to give them particulars, and that the collection could be inspected in Germany)—Dr. Assmus, who was the prisoner, called one afternoon, and not seeing me then called again about six, and was introduced to me and Mr. Bright—he spoke about this matter of going to Germany; he had asked me previously to come over with him—he offered me a commission, and said he would very likely be able to manage some private business with me—I informed my employers of what was taking place-before that he had offered me commission on stamps that he might sell—we had tried to obtain a warrant against him, but could not get it in Bournemouth, and so we dropped the matter.
Cross-examined. I thought the Baden stamps were good—I put them that evening in a box, and never looked at them again, and when someone wrote and pointed out that stamps on my sheets seemed to be doubtful, I had doubts about the Baden stamps—there were four or five days between the first and second lots—when we suspected them I sent the whole lot to Mr. Bright, who was in London, and he showed them to Mr. Phillips, who I think is a good judge—we did not write to you, because we wanted to find out how many you had—I do not remember getting forgeries from London dealers—I found one among the stock,
and we got the money for it back—until I examined the Baden stamps with a microscope I did not find out they were bad—Mr. Bright said he would pay part cash and the rest by instalments for the £2,000 worth of stamps; you said the owner wanted cash, but you would see what could be done—all the stamps you sent in November were not genuine—I sent some to Germany, and found some of them were essays, which are printed by the Government—you offered the Baden stamps to us as coming from a large accumulation of old letters, and said they would be on letter sheets.
PERCY MAY BRIGHT . I am a member of the firm of Bright and Sons, stamp dealers, Bournemouth,—I communicated with Bernhardt, and bought twenty-eight stamps altogether from him—in consequence of a communication made to me when I was in London I showed some of the stamps to Mr. Phillips, who on closely examining them found they were forgeries—our cheque for £5 5s. was sent.
Cross-examined. I knew the Baden stamps were bad before your arrest—I was present the first time you were at the Police-court—I made no charge against you then, as I was not prepared to do so.
Re-examined. Afterwards a gentleman from the Treasury saw me, and I stated what had taken place.
REUBEN PENSEN (Detective Sergeant C). I have had charge of this ease, and with assistance have made inquiries—about twenty minutes to four p.m. on 21st November I saw the prisoner in Copthall Avenue—I had a warrant, and I said to him, "Good afternoon, Mr. Assmus"—he said, "I don't know you; my name is Bernhardt; what do you want?"—I said, "l am a sergeant of police, and have a warrant for your arrest"—I read the warrant, which charged him with defrauding Mr. Giwelb—lie said, "But it is so long ago, and I did not intend to defraud Mr. Giwelb, but to pay him the money back"—I said, "You told me your name was Bernhardt"—he said, "That is my Christian name; will not you give me the opportunity of paying the money back?"—I said, "You must first come to the Police-station"—I took him to Vine Street, where, in answer to the charge, he said, "I did not intend to defraud Mr. Giwelb; I took him the stamp and sold it, but did not know that it was a forgery"—I found on the prisoner this wallet, containing about 900 stamps; this book and two dies, one with the figure 10, and the other with a French post-mark—among the 900 stamps were 99 similar to Mr. Bright'8 eleven Baden stamps—he gave the address, "12, Church Street, Islington"—I went there with Faulkner, and found 4,000 stamps, a number of bottles containing sulphuric, hydrochloric and nitric acids, and spirits of salts, tins and packets of colours, eight metal types, four "V ",. and four "R"; two together would make "V R" similar to that on the backs of the stamps, eighteen dies, seven knives, two of them evidently for perforation—among the 900 stamps I found one similar to Mr. Giwelb's stamp, and among the 4,000 I found four of the same kind among the 900 were two four-anna stamps, and among the 4,000 some of the coloured Cape of Good Hope stamps—there is only one four-anna stamp in this country, and that is at the British Museum—I also found this card of Mr. Phillips, with the note on the back of it—all the stamps found have been seen by Major Evans.
Cross-examined. It looked from your rooms as if you wore perfectly starving—the woman with whom you were living came in; she had had
no food for two days, and the prosecutor supplied her with some—Giwelb and D'Arenberg went with me and assisted—I invited them to go because I had no knowledge of stamps, and they could tell me whether they were good or bad—the stamps found on you were kept separate from those found at your rooms.
ERNEST HENRY DOUAY . I am employed in the Controller of Stamps Department, Somerset House, and for some years I have had considerable experience in English stamps—this black stamp, with "V. R." in the corners, was originally the same as this other one with the Maltese crosses, which have been removed, and the "V. R." printed on—the genuine stamp, which properly bore the "V. R.," was an official stamp, intended to be used for official postage instead of franking letters; but it was never carried out, although some "V. R." stamps have passed through the post—the value of such genuine stamps ranges from £6 to £8—I should say the black stamp produced by the last witness had originally the Maltese cross, and had been treated in the same way.
Cross-examined. To find out such an alteration you would have to get the stamp under a good light—I should think a big dealer, in the business for many years, would find it out—these are not the same types as those on the original; this type might have been used—it is possible to remove the Maltese crosses and to print the "V. R." with these types or with others.
EDWARD BENJAMIN EVANS . I live at 78, "West Hill, Sydenham—I have been a stamp collector for a large number of years, and have had considerable experience from having stamps before me—the sergeant submitted a large number of stamps to me, and I went through thorn all—I found over 800 stamps either forged, or altered, or tampered with—the Baden stamps sent to Bright are entirely forgeries; very good imitations, likely to pass with any unskilled person, and requiring very close examination—the four-anna Indian stamp is in part forgery; the head has been removed, and a forged imitation of that part replaced in an inverted position, I consider—if it were genuine it would be worth £20 or more—I saw three of them altogether—the colour of the blue Cape of Good Hope stamp has been changed by some chemical process from red—the genuine blue would be worth from £25 to £30, and the red is worth about 1s. 6d.—only one of those had been altered; the others were forgeries—I found a large number of Bavarian and Mexican stamps completely forged—I saw a twelve-cent Mexican stamp, the colour of which had been altered from green paper to brown, which would be much more valuable.
Cross-examined. I should not buy a quantity of Baden or Indian stamps without careful examination—I should have found out that they were bad—I think if Mr. Phillips had examined them as carefully as I did ho would have found them out—I don't think he has had as large an experience of stamps as I have had—I think the Roumanian stamps were good—I have no knowledge of chemistry, but I know it is possible to alter the colour of stamps, and I am quite sure the colour has been altered—it is very easy to do it without knowledge of chemistry—I have altered the colour of stamps with acids, as experiments—I have not got so far as to change a red into a blue one—I know it is easy to take colour out of paper and to recolour it with other colour—the Baden stamps exist in different shades—there are not different kinds of these
four-anna stamps—I can see with a glass that the black V. R. stamp has been altered: I could not see it without the glass—I should not have bought it without examining it with a magnifying-glass—forgeries were brought on the market years ago; I can speak for the last twenty-five years.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never intended to defraud Mr. Reya and Mr. Bright. If the stamps are forgeries, I bought and sold them without knowing they are forgeries. I was deceived in the same way as Mr. Phillips and Mr. Bright. I have been merely a collector, and have done a little business in stamps; but I don't understand it so well as these big dealers. Why should not I be deceived if those gentlemen of large experience have been deceived? I have no witnesses to call here."
The prisoner in his defence asserted that he had been deceived as to the genuineness of the stamps in the same way as had the other dealers, and that he had no intention to defraud.
— GUILTY — Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, February 8th, 1892.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
ROBERTS and GILBERT PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM FITZGERALD (635 City). On January 5th, in the afternoon, I was with Detective Goodson in Wood Street, Cheapside, and saw the three prisoners—Roberts handed something to Gilbert; they walked up Wood Street, and Gilbert went into the Express Dairy, the two male prisoners waited outside; Roberto walked a short distance, joined Anderson again, and Gilbert came out and joined them—they all walked across Cheapside, and down Bread Street, into Cannon Street; Gordon and I still following—I lost sight of them for a minute or two, and saw them next going into Cannon Street Station, where the two male prisoners loft her, and she went into the first-class waiting-room, and came out and joined them again—they went to Bush Lane, where they stood in conversation—I saw Roberts hand something to Gilbert again; they returned to Cannon Street, where Gilbert went into No. 121, Mr. Dawson's, a stationer's, while the other two waited a short distance off—Gilbert came out and joined them—I went into the shop, and came out and rejoined Gordon—we followed the prisoners to Abchurch Lane, where they stood in conversation a few minutes, and Roberts again handed something to Gilbert, who went to 41, Gracechurch Street, a fancy brush shop—the two men waited outside—she came out and followed them to East Street, where Roberts handed something to Gilbert, whe went into the Falstaff public-house, the two men waiting outside—she came out and joined them, and then went into the Cow and Calf, East Street—the other men walked on a few yards, looking back—Gilbert came out, and I went into the house and spoke to the barmaid—I came out and followed the prisoners, and stopped them in Rood Lane—I said: "We are police officers, and shall take you in custody for being concerned together in uttering counterfeit coin"—they
made no reply then, or when charged—I found on Anderson eight shillings, twelve sixpences, thirty-three pennies, and (en halfpennies, ail. good; and this packet of envelopes—Gilbert was searched by the female searcher, who handed me two good shillings, some envelopes and paper, and a birthday card—I saw Roberts searched—he took a paper packet out of his right trousers pocket, and put it on a little window-ledge behind—I opened it—it contained four bad half-crowns and three bad florins, with paper between each—Mrs. Lily afterwards handed me a coin.
WILLIAM GOODSON (463 City). I was with Fitzgerald, and followed the prisoners down to their arrest—I took Roberts, and searched him at the station, and found a shilling, threepence, a pair of gloves, and a pipe—he put his right hand in his trousers pocket, and turned round and stepped back—I said, "What are you doing?"—he made no reply, but stepped forward, and the uniform man took this paper packet off a lodge; it contained four half-crowns and three florins.
CLARRY TILLING . I am superintendent of the Express Dairy Company, Cheapside—on January 5th Gilbert came in and asked for a glass of milk—I saw her served; she paid with a florin; I took it up and gave it to the cashier; I then examined it, and something dark came off it on to my fingers—I handed it back to Gilbert, and told her it was bad—she appeared surprised, and said she had taken it at a draper's—she paid me with a good florin, which she selected from several coins in her hand—I gave her the change, and she left.
CAROLINE LILY . I, am the attendant at the first-class waiting-room, Cannon Street Station—on January 5th, between three and four p.m., Gilbert came in and paid me with a florin; I put it with the rest of my money and gave her the change—directly she had gone I tried it with my teeth, and it was bad—I had no other florin—I gave it to Fitzgerald.
JOSEPH HENRY HANCOCK . I am assistant to Messrs. Dawson, stationers, of 151, Cannon Street—on January 5th I served Gilbert with some envelopes; she gave me a florin; I sounded it on the counter, and then broke it in the tester, and said, "This is a bad one"—she said, 'Oh, is it?"—I gave her back the two pieces, and she paid me with good money and left—these are the envelopes I sold her, they have our name on them.
ALICE ADAMS . I am barmaid at the Cow and Calf, East Street—on this afternoon I served Gilbert with some whisky, price twopence; she gave me a florin, I put it in the third division, in the florin row of the till, and gave her the change, and she left—shortly afterwards Fitzgerald came in—I went to the till and examined the coin, and handed it to Mrs. Reid, who broke it with her teeth, and I saw the pieces handed to Fitzgerald—these are they.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—these two florins are bad—here is another packet containing three florins and four half-crowns, all counterfeit, and some of them from the same mould as the two others.
Anderson in his defence stated that it was not stated that he handed anything to Gilbert, or took anything from her, and therefore he could not have committed any offence.
Anderson was farther charged with a conviction of felony on 24th October, 1884.
RICHARD HUMPHRIES (Warder). Anderson was convicted on 24th October, 1884, of felony, possessing eight counterfeit half-sovereigns; I proved the charge; he hadseven years' penal servitude. He was previously convicted with a man named McGosling.
—GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
ROBERTS**— Two Years' Hard Labour.
GILBERT— Twelve Month's Hard Labour ,
248. WALTER COATES (16) , to stealing," while employed in the Post Office, a post packet and a box of cigarettes, the property of H. M. Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
249. HENRY BURGOYNE BASSEY (34) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a letter and a postal order of H. M. Postmaster-General; and WILLIAM BASSEY (56) , to receiving the same, and to forging and uttering a receipt for 5s., with intent to defraud.
H. B. BASSEY— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
WILLIAM BASSEY— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
250. RALPH JOHN BANNISTER (27) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a postal packet containing three half-crowns and twenty-two postage stamps, the property of H. M. Postmaster-General.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
252. JAMES MCCALL (21) , to burglary' in the dwelling-house of, Daniel Barfoot, and stealing an overcoat and other articles, after a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell on September 20th, 1890.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour , And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(253). JOHN BROWN (18) and JOHN WARD (22) , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Herbert James Pratt, and stealing a cigar-case and other articles, his property; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Anchoretta Harry, and stealing a stick and other articles, her property." BROWN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour: WARD— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ARTHUR HAILSTONE (Policeman E). On 12th January I took the child's mother to Plumstead Infirmary, and she identified the child—I saw the prisoner on the 15th, about 3.45, and told her she would be charged with stealing Arthur Hefferon, in Clare Market—she said, "I did not steal the child; it was left with me by a strange woman three weeks ago, at a public-house in Tottenham Court Road. I know I ought to have told them it was not my child; I went to Greenwich yesterday to try and find the woman"—she made a statement which was taken down in writing.
CHARLOTTE HEFFERON . I am married—on 15th December I left my child playing with another child—the other child came and said some-thing to me—I next saw my child at Plumstead Workhouse, wearing the same clothes, except a handkerchief—he had a scar on his chin.
the child has the face ache"—she came down to the bath and began to undress him in a very strange manner—I said, "The child's clothes are very tight-fitting"—she said she had lost his own clothes.
HENRY DAVIS . I am porter at Plumstead Workhouse—I saw the prisoner there on 12th January with a child, she said it was hers, but afterwards on being pressed she said it was not, and that she found it in a lodging-house.
The prisoner, in her statement before the Magistrate and in her defence, said that the child was left with her in a public-home by a strange woman, and being the worse for drink the policeman took her away on a stretcher, and when the came to herself the next morning the policeman said that the child was taken to Plumstead Workhouse, and that she had seven days for drunkenness.
A. HAILSTONE (Re-examined). She was charged with drunkenness, and had five days—I do not know whether she was taken away on a stretcher.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BLACK Prosecuted.
ROBERT CARNEGIE IMRIE . I am a schoolmaster, of 2, Great Percy Street, Clerkenwell—on 15th January I was near my own door, and was tripped up and stunned—two men got on top of me and rifled my pockets—I shouted "Police!" and they ran off—I got up and found my watch was safe, but the swivel was broken.
SAMUEL WATERMAN (Policeman G R). On 18th January I was on duty in King's Cross Road about one a.m.; heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoner running away—Arnold stopped him, and I asked him what was the matter; he said, "I only picked the man up."
WILLIAM ARNOLD . I keep a coffee-room at King's Cross Road—on 15th January I had been to a party, and was going home—I was unlocking my door when I heard cry of "Police!" and saw a gentleman on the ground, and the prisoner and another man on top of him—a cabman came up and halloaed "Stop thief!"—the prisoner ran my way, and I caught him by the throat—he gave me a good crack in the chest, and said he only picked the gentleman up—I said, "I saw you on him."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were running as hard as you could.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: " I was coming home last night about ten o'clock, and saw the gentleman on the ground; two lads asked me to pick him up; I did so, and he fell down again, and halloaed Stop thief!' I saw two or three people running after me, and I stopped and said, 'I only picked the man up.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, 1892.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
Williams and Co., of 138, Belvedere Road, Lambeth—they hare two barges, The Ban and The Marsh, which wore properly secured and moored on the Thames at Calverton buoys—I saw them safe on 22nd January, about half-past six at night—they were moored by a large manilla rope, head and stern—the rope used by the firm has a tarry strand running up it—about half-past eight next morning on my way up in the tug I found that the rope had been cut and taken away—on the 25th I was taken to Mr. Saunders, a marine store dealer in Narrow Street, Limehouse, and there identified five fathoms of rope, it was cut into pieces—this piece (produced) is similar to it.
Cross-examined by Crawford. The rope was not fastened to the barge, it was lying loose; it was a very foggy night; there were about ten fathoms of rope altogether.
GEORGE JAMES SAUNDERS . I am a marine store dealer, of 91, Narrow Street, Limehouse—on 23rd January, about a quarter to eleven, Crawford come and rang my bell—I had seen him before walking about Lime-house, but had no dealings with him—he said there was some rope coming in a truck, and Cole came up with it—I said to Crawford, "Is this rope yours?"—he said, "Yes, me and my brother have been saving it"—I asked what he had had to pay for it; he said 15s. 6d.—I gave him that for it—I weighed it; there were about seven or eight fathoms of it; it was manilla rope—this (produced) is like it; I can't swear to it, it has a tarry strand in it; some of it was dry and some wet; it was in about a dozen pieces; it had been cut—I said to him, "Have you a note?"—he said no, he only had his papers—I had no receipt—I asked him his name; he said, "Bluff," which I entered in my book—I did not ask Cole's name—Crawford was the one that received the money, and Cole was gone when I paid him.
Cross-examined by Crawford. You said it was old rope; you did not say that two men had given it to you to sell.
By the JURY. I do not often buy rope of men like the prisoners; I generally buy of lightermen, I know they get it honestly—Crawford looked like a lighterman—I should consider eighteen shillings a fair price to sell the rope at.
GEORGE LAMBERT (Detective K). On 23rd January I received information of the loss of this rope—I made inquiry of Saunders, and was shown three large bundles of rope, weighing about three hundredweight; it was fresh cut and wet—on the 25th I went with Mr. Beechy to Saunders' shop, and he identified about ten fathoms of rope in several pieces—on the 26th, from a description given mo by Saunders, I arrested the prisoners on suspicion, also a brother of Crawford's—they were placed with twelve others, and Saunders picked the two prisoners out without any hesitation—I charged them with stealing and receiving the rope—they denied all knowledge of it.
The prisoners in their defence stated that two men, who they met, asked them to sell the rope for them, which they did, and gave the men the money, and received 1s. each for selling it,
GUILTY on the Second Count. Both the prisoners PLEADED GUILTV to having been before convicted of felony, and other convictions were proved against them.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.
258. WILLIAM RALPH VYVYAN HAWKER (24) to stealing a transfer of fifteen shares in the stock of the International Okonite Company, the property of Woodhouse, Rawson, and Co., his masters. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors on the ground of his weakness mind.— Discharged on recognisances. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(259). ALBERT BEECH (16) and EDWARD JONES (14) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Sidney Johnson Taylor, and stealing two trumpets and other articles.— Discharged on recognisances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, February 9th, and Wednesday, February 10th, 1892.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
260. WILLIAM FRISBEE (40) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully making false entries in the books of Joseph Baxendale and others, his masters; also to. stealing £1 13s. 6d. and £10 7s., of his masters; also to four indictments for forging and uttering receipts for £10 7s., £31 18s. 4d., £30 17s. 9d., and £33 6s.— Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended.
FLORA HIGGLEDEN . I manage the shop of Mr. Stone, a tobacconist, 124, Praed Street, Paddington—on November 25th, about 7.50 p.m., I served the prisoner with some birdseye, price 1s. 3d., she put down a gilt farthing, head upwards—I took it up and sounded it on the counter, and told her it was not a sovereign but a farthing—the gas was alight—she said, "My husband must have given it to me for a joke"—she paid me with fifteenpence, which she took from her purse—I gave her back the coin, and she left with the tobacco.
FREDERICK WARWICK . I am in the service of Mr. Hughes, a fishmonger, of Great James Street, Marylebone—on November 25th, about 6.45, I saw the prisoner there, she selected four penny haddocks; I said, "Fourpence, please"—she gave me this coin, head uppermost, and said, "A sovereign"—it was just like gold, and was a great deal brighter than it is now—I took it to Mrs. Hughes in the shop, and said, "Four out of a sovereign, "handing her the coin—the prisoner said she had no more money. and I took the haddocks away.
Cross-examined. I was on the doorstep, she had no other money in her hand—I did not know her—she said that the coin was sent from Brighton in a registered letter.
MARY HUGHES . My husband is a fishmonger—about 8.20 on this night I saw the prisoner outside the shop, she picked up four penny haddocks, and the boy said, "Fourpence, please"—she said, "Take it out of a sovereign"—he brought it to me, and I said, "Freddy, what folly is this?"—it was much brighter then than it is now—I burn ten gas-burners—I spoke to the prisoner; she said, "Oh, I am very sorry, but I have got no more money; I can't take the fish"—she did not say how she got the coin—a policeman was there, and she wont away with him.
FREDERICK PATWICK (108 D). I took the prisoner, and told her it would be necessary to make some inquiries—she had a purse in her hand, which she gave me at the station—I found in it a half-sovereign, a sixpence, a penny, a halfpenny and a farthing, and this tobacco in her basket—she was charged, and said she must have got this coin at Brighton; she had come from there the day before—she handed me two good florins and a handkerchief—Mr. Stone's shop is about ten minutes' walk from Great James Street—Mrs. Hughes handed me this coin, it looked much brighter then, and just like a sovereign.
Cross-examined. All the money I found on her was good—she gave me a correct address, and said her husband was a coachman, which I found to be correct—the farthing I found on her had the word "Farthing" on it.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of the second uttering. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of her character,— Two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
RICHARD JORDAN . I am a meat cutter, in the employ of Edward Lardon, trading as Dean and Hutton, 20, Central Market, City—he is known in the market as "Ribs"—on 15th January, Lovell, a customer, came to purchase some meat—some pigs were skewered for him and weighed—the prisoner came in and said, "Who are they for?"—I said, "For old Lardon; there are six pigs in his shop"—he said, "I will take the pigs first"—he took one, and I gave him another on his shoulder—he never returned—I had delivered meat to him on several other occasions—I gave them to him because I knew him so well; they were worth £3.
JOHN ROWE . I am a butcher, of 73, London Road, Southwark—I purchased six pigs and six sheep from Dean and Hutton, left them there, and gave orders for them to be fetched by my carriers—I did not tell the prisoner to fetch them.
ERNEST BROWN . I am a deliverer of meat, in the employ of Williams and Co.—on January 7th I delivered to Mr. Taylor two skirts and three,. middles; the prisoner came in and said, "I am on for a short, Taylor of Plumstead "; I delivered the short to him.
FREDERICK WILLIAM TAYLOR . I am a butcher, of Plumstead—on 15th January I purchased three shorts and three middles from Mr. Williams; I had my cart—I received one short and three middles; I know the prisoner as a porter—I did not employ him on that occasion.
HARRY JENKINS . I am scalesman to Brown and Co., of the Meat Market—on 8th January Mr. Inniger purchased six pigs from me, and the prisoner came ten minutes or a quarter of an hour afterwards and said, "I am on for Mr. Ehniger"—he took two pigs on his shoulder, and I gave him one up—he never returned for the three.
Cross-examined. I am certain you are the man.
WILLIAM CROSS (City Detective). I took the prisoner on January 18th on a warrant, which I road to him; ho said, "I took the pigs; somebody asked mo to take thorn there, and I did so"—he was placed with other men and identified—he said, "I admit taking the short, but not the pigs."
Prisoner's Defence. I never had the pigs. On the 15th a man sent me in for the meat, and I went and fetched it.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HENEBERRY . I live at 30, Clyde Road, Silvertown—on, 10th January, at 10.5 p.m., I was going home from Poplar Station, and was stopped on the iron-bridge by four men; George and Lindsay are two of them—they asked me for the price of a drink; I refused, and they knocked mo down and rifled my pockets, and took 2s. 10d.—I got up and followed them, and a constable arrested George.
Cross-examined. I did not toll the Magistrate I did not know who it was—I identified you and Lindsay at the Police-court—I had been drinking, but was not drunk.
JOHN BARTRUM . I live at Silvertown—on January 10th I was on the iron-bridge, and saw four men rifling the prosecutor's pockets—the prisoners are three of them—Lindsay and Ryan hold him while George put his hands in his pockets—they ran away, and a constable took George—on Monday, the 11th, I picked Ryan out from seven other men.
JOSEPH LLOYD . I live at 31, Clifton Street, Canning Town—on 10th January I was near the iron-bridge, and saw a gang of men over the prosecutor; George and Lindsay are two of them—Lindsay knocked him down, and I saw George's hand in his pocket—I told a constable—I do not recognise Ryan.
GEORGE COOPER (221 K). On 10th January, about 10.15, I was on duty, and a lot of people came over Poplar Bridge—the prosecutor came up) and said ho had been robbed, and Bartrum said, "That is the man," pointing to George—he also pointed out the other two prisoners; they ran away—George was rescued, but he was re-apprehended—he said, "I will go with you to the station, but I don't know anything about it."
Cross-examined by Lindsay. I saw you in the crowd.
By the JURY. Money was found on George and on Lindsay.
JOHN GARDNER (441 K). On 10th January I was on duty at the iron-bridge—Lindsay was pointed out to me, and before I got hold of him he assaulted a man—I took him to the station; he said he struck Sullivan, but did not kick him.
Cross-examined by Lindsay. I did not knock you down, but you threw me to the ground.
EUGENE SULLIVAN . I live at Poplar—on January 10 I was standing at the corner of St. Leonard's Road, and Lindsay came up and knocked me down, and kicked me twice, and hit me three times—I saw George in the crowd.
George and Lindsay, in their statements before the Magistrate and in their defences, asserted their innocence.
Ryan's Defence. I was in bed, and have a witness to prove it.
GEORGE and LINDSAY GUILTY .
They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions: George at West Ham on 22nd October, 1887, and Lindsay at West Ham on 6th April, 1887 .—Twelve Month' Hard Labour each.
RYAN NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAMS and MCCARTHY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
ELIAS HAMMOND . I am a wardrobe dealer, at 128, Gray's Inn Road—on the early morning of 7th January I heard Wood's whistle outside the side door, and I got up and went outside, where I saw several policemen—I did not miss anything—about four months previously I had had some prostitutes living in the house—Kelly used to mix up with that class of people—the women had keys of the house, which they did not return when they left.
Cross-examined. I am not the landlord of those women—I live in the house—there were three women there—I suppose Mrs. Sutton, the landlady, gave them keys; I did not—I knew the prisoner by sight—I do not know whether he has a brother.
HENRY WOOD (173 C). On 7th January, at 1.20 a.m., I was on duty in the Gray's Inn Road—I saw this door gently open, and I went to it and pushed it, and Kelly came out—I said, "What are you doing here, Jack, this time of the morning?"—he said, "I have come to see my young lady"—knowing the prisoner was a desperate character, I detained him, and said "I must make some inquiries"—he put his hand into his pocket, and said, "I will fetch my young lady"—he went indoors, and slammed the door in my face—I put my foot in the door to prevent it closing—I pushed it open and saw the prisoners running down the passage—I found M'Carthy behind the door at the end of the passage, and took him in custody—I next saw Kelly last Friday, at 11, Jerusalem Court, St. John's Square—he Said, "All right, governor, I know what you want me for"—he jumped from the second floor window in trying to get away.
Cross-examined. I have seen Kelly inside the White Lion in Leather Lane, but not between 6th January and 6th February; if I had I should have taken him—his brother is a little taller—there is a slight resemblance in their features, I believe; I don't think it is a strong resemblance—I was about two minutes in conversation with the man at the door—I was in uniform—directly I pushed the door open three men
scuttled out at the back as quickly as they could—there is an ordinary street lamp a little higher up than outside the door—Jerusalem Court is about a quarter of a mile from Hammond's place—I cannot say if the prisoner's brother was in the house at the time—I was outside the house about five minutes before I went in—as we knocked at the prosecutor's door in Jerusalem Court we hoard a window go up, and we rushed downstairs and saw Kelly come out of the second floor window.
Re-examined. I knew the prisoner before that night, and I saw him at the door, and I have not the slightest doubt that ho is the man.
SAMUEL WATERMAN (Policeman). I went with Wood to 11, Jerusalem Buildings, on Friday last—I rapped at the room door, and got no answer; I stood there two minutes, and heard a noise in the room and a window going up; I ran downstairs and saw the prisoner jump from the window and run down the court—I stopped him; he 'said, "All right, I know what you want me for"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I know his two brothers; his brother Dan resembles him very much—we do not tell everyone when we are looking for a man—the prisoner has been in hiding for some time.
Cross-examined. A key was found on Williams—I tried it to the door, and it fitted—it had been filed.
—M'CARTHY** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on 4th February, 1889;
WILLIAMS** to one at Guildhall on 24th June, 1891; and KELLY** to one at this Court on 30th January, 1888.— Five Years' each in Penal Servitude.
JOHN MCCELLAR . I live at Liscard, in Cheshire—I was in Duke Street, Adelphi, and three men ran against me and knocked me down—I had on me a watch and chain, and between £4 and £5; this purse and seal are mine.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I cannot explain how you could take the chain and leave the watch in my pocket.
GEORGE GRIMSHAW (Policeman E). On 28th January, at 12.15 a.m., I was on duty in Duke Street, Adelphi, and saw three men and the last witness struggling on the ground; one sang out, "Here are the coppers" and ran away—I stopped the prisoner with this purse in his hand; I took it from him—I was knocked down, and struggled on the ground—the prisoner was very violent—I got another constable to take him to the station—a half-crown, a florin, and some coppers were found on him—the prosecutor identified the purse.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Bow Street on June 16th, 1886.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. ARMSTRONG Prosecuted.
ALBERT ERNEST BYE . I am warehouseman to Piggott Brothers, tarpaulin makers, of 57, Bishopsgate Street—the prisoner came there in December and ordered a magic lantern sheet, and said he would call on Thursday, which ho did, and produced this card, saying that he had
gone into partnership with Mr. Brockett, of the Strand—knowing Mr. Brockett, I let him have it—it is worth £1 12s. 6d.—it has not been paid for—he came again on the 28th or 29th, and wanted six more sheets, and said that he or his partner would come and pay for them.
HOUGHTON BROCKETT . I am an advertising agent, of 492, Strand—I know the prisoner—he has, never been my partner—I never authorised him to get a magic lantern sheet—he came to my place and said he was agent for Buffalo Bill, and that he had a show at King's Cross, and asked me to go into partnership with him; a rough agreement was drawn up, but I refused—I saw him after Christmas, but he said nothing about the sheet—I knew nothing about it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have no furniture at 402, Strand, no letter-box, and no family there—I pay no rent—my name is not up, but it has been, and "Brockett, Strand," will find me—I do commissions.
(The prisoner cross-examined the witness at great length upon matters which the COURT ruled had nothing to do with the case, and the JURY requested the COURT to draw the prisoner's attention to the charge.)—I agreed to a three years' lease of the King's Cross Theatre at ten shillings a week—it was not at my suggestion that you accepted their terms—to the best of my recollection, on December 9th I said I would have nothing more to do with it—
I got a constable, and had you put out of my room because you became a nuisance to me—I told you on December 9th that I would have nothing more to do with you—I replied to Messrs. Piggott's letter, and told them I was in no way connected with you—I was going into partnership with you, but I heard something in the afternoon and I refused; you did not ask me what I heard.
WALTER NICHOLAS . I am assistant to Walter John Need, a pawnbroker, of Euston Road—this magic-lanthorn sheet was pawned with me by the prisoner, to the best of my belief, in the name of William Roberts—this is the ticket.
THOMAS ABBOTT (City Detective Sergeant). I took the prisoner on 11th January, at 42, Manchester Street, King's Cross, and read the warrant to him; he said, "I must acknowledge I had the sheet," and produced this invoice—I searched his place, and found this ticket for a magic-lanthorn sheet, pawned on December 24th, in a washhand-stand drawer.
SAVAGE (Policeman). Not examined in chief.
Cross-examined. On the way from Bishopsgate Street Station to Guildhall you said, "I have pawned the magic-lanthorn sheet at 9, King's Cross Road, and Brockett knows all about it."
Witness for the Defence.
MR. SMITH. Early in December you called on me and asked me why a magic lanthorn had been removed, and I handed you a letter giving you the reason why they had shut it up—you mentioned him and you renting the place from me, and I said that the day mentioned for him to come down and examine the building would not be convenient to me—I told you the best time to call was after 6 p.m.—you made an appointment—you introduced a third party to me, as your partner I understood—I told you my terms—Brockett said the rent was too high, and made an offer, which was not accepted—my offer was £60, on condition that Werman and Co. would give me permission to use it—I did not take the place because they would not agree to it.
The prisoner handed in a written defence, contending that the matter was one of partnership between Brockett and himself.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, February 10th, 1892.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
267. ROBERT SPLATON (34) PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for feloniously forging and uttering receipts for the delivery of goods; also to making false entries in the books of his employers; and to a previous conviction of felony— Six Months' Hard Labour.
268. HARRY DAWSON (17) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles F. Sandcroft, and stealing a coat and other articles value £10— Six Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
(269). GEORGE ANDREWS (32) , to two burglaries in the dwelling-house and stealing various articles; and to a previous conviction of felony**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
For other cases tried this day, see Essex and Kent cases.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, February 11th, 1892.
Before Mr. Justice Bay.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL, A. GILL, and STEPHENSON Prosecuted; and MR. HUTTON Defended.
JOHN TYRRELL (307 E). I have had experience in making plans—I have made a plan of the front room at No. 4, Old Nicol Street, Bethnal Green, the room occupied by Selina Lewis—it shows the position of the windows and door, and the furniture of the room.
SELINA LEWIS . I now live in Brick Lane—I did live at 4, Old Nicol Street, and occupied the front room, second-floor—up to the 2nd December the prisoner occupied the back room on the same floor with the deceased Abigail Sullivan—the prisoner is a shoemaker—Sullivan used sometimes to work as an ironer—I am a single woman, and live by myself—I did not see much of the prisoner and Sullivan—they were in the habit of drinking—I have heard them quarrelling—I have heard him threaten her, and once or twice he said he would kill her—I have heard noises of quarrelling in their room—once I went in and saw her lying on the floor, and the prisoner standing over her with his fist clenched, and he appeared to be kicking her—I asked him what he was doing, and told him to leave her alone—he said if I did not go out of the room he would serve me the same—I went out—that was about the beginning of December—I remember the deceased, in the prisoner's presence, showing me marks on her arms and face; that was about a week before I went into their room—I only knew them for about six weeks—he gave up his room about a fortnight before 16th December when she showed me the marks upon her, she said that he had said now that he had disfigured her he was going to leave her—the mark on her arms seemed like a cut—I could form no idea what the marks on the face were from, I did not take much notice of them—the morning he left he came and knocked at my door and brought
the deceased's bonnet and some other things in a handkerchief, and said, Will you take care of these things? she might come to you, and I am going to give up the room"—she had been out all the night, that was the reason he gave up the room; it was a furnished room, there was nothing in it belonging to them—these were all things belonging to her—she came up to me the same morning and said she had nowhere to go, and she lived with me after that—on Monday, 14th December, I went with her to the place where the prisoner worked; he was called out from his work to speak to her; she asked him for some money—he said he would give her some after Christmas—she said she would remain round there till he had finished work—he said, "You must not stop round here; if you do, I shall stick a knife in you"—he then went back to the shop—I persuaded the deceased to come home with me, and she did—on Wednesday, 16th December, about six in the evening, I went out, leaving my baby with her—I came back about 10—she was not there then, but the prisoner was there, he was looking out of the window; there are two windows to the room, with a table between them—I asked him what he was doing there; he told me to ask Abby—I went out to look for her—I came back in about a quarter of an hour, and as I went up the stairs I met the deceased coming down with the child in her arms—she turned and went with me into my room—I found the prisoner still there, standing in the middle of the room—the deceased said to him, "How did you come here?"—he said, "You ought to know"—she used bad language to him; she had the baby in her arms—she gave the baby to me, and said, "Take your child, I have been your servant long enough"—I said, "What do you mean?"—she made no answer, but walked over to her husband and took up the table to strike him—it was a small square table standing in the middle of the room—she lifted it up with both hands from the ground; she was going to raise it, but I told her to put it down, and she put it down; she then walked towards her husband, as if to strike him—I saw her lift her hand to strike him; she did not strike him, because he lifted his hand to her, as if to strike her, and she dropped her hand; then I saw her stagger towards the foot of the bedstead, away from him—I turned to him and asked what he had done; I thought he had only struck her—he made no answer; he said, "I am going to have a drink," and went out of the room—I turned round and saw that she had sunk on the floor at the foot of the bedstead—I went to raise her up and saw blood coming from the side of her chest—she said, "Oh, Selina!" and that was all—I got assistance, and sent for the police—later on that night I saw the prisoner at the Police-station; I was there shown this knife (produced); it is my property. (It was like a shoemaker's knife, with a long blade, not a clasped one)—I used it for cutting wood; I had used it for that purpose that afternoon, and left it on the table with the other knives when I went out at six; it was on the table between the windows, where the prisoner had been standing—it had not been sharpened when I left it there—when I saw it at the station that night it looked as if it had been sharpened—I did not use it for cutting bread, I used it for other things, but not for cutting bread—this steel is my property—I used it for a poker; it was left in the fender—I had not seen the prisoner pick anything up when he lifted his hand as if to strike her; he was not near enough to the table to pick anything off it—I am quite sure he did not pick anything up.
Cross-examined. I had not cut the bread with this knife that afternoon, it was not sharp enough—I do not remember saying that I used it that afternoon to cut the bread—I had tea at five o'clock—after tea I cleared the tea-things and knives on to the table between the windows, and left the knife there—it does not seem to be sharp now—at the time the prisoner made the push he was standing in the middle of the room, almost close to the bed—it is a large room—I have known the deceased assault the prisoner; I never knew her to strike him—I have seen her pick up things to strike him with, several times—I have never seen her strike him with them, because he prevented her by taking the things away from her, or by striking her, or pushing her away—I have not seen her take up the table before, or a knife; I have seen her take up the poker; I was once in the room when that happened—I never saw her throw a cup at him and cut his head—she used frequently to get drunk, and then she would become violent—she had had no drink on this occasion; she appeared to me to be quite sober—she was doing no work on this day—I had not been into a public-house with her; I was at home washing—it was when they were the worse for drink that he threatened to kill her; when she threatened to strike him, she was threatening him with something in her hand—that has happened on two or three occasions—I never made any complaint to the police about this; I did not think it serious—I have heard people threaten to kill others before; it is a common expression in rows down there—I never used to sharpen knives on this steel.
Re-examined. I had used this knife that day to cut cat's-meat, soon after dinner, about one o'clock—I had a table-knife that I used for the bread—when I saw this at the station I thought it looked brighter—when the woman fell she fell in a heap, about two steps from the prisoner; she staggered back—I did not see the beginning of the disturbance, when the prisoner was apparently kicking her—she had not threatened him in any way at the shop when he threatened to put a knife into her.
ALFRED KENNEDY . I am the husband of Catherine Kennedy—Kate Batty is her daughter—we occupied the room opposite Mrs. Lewis, the second floor back—we came to live there on 12th December, when the other people had gone out—on the 16th December, about half-past nine, I went to the Portobello public-house—I saw the prisoner there, and the deceased, with a baby in her arms; they were having one or two words; I heard the prisoner say, "To-night there will be something done before ten, and if anyone else interferes I will serve them the same"—I said, "If I was you, I should not do anything I would be sorry for"—he replied, "With that we will break away," and he went out—the deceased stopped there—I live next door, and I went in and left her there—just' after ten I heard cries of "Oh! oh!" in their room—I went to the door, and saw the prisoner coming out of Mrs. Lewis's room; he made for the stairs; I went after him, we had a bit of a struggle on the stairs, and the stairs being steep he got away, and I fell; he flew down the stairs—after that I saw the Constable Hawkyard, and made a statement to him—I next saw the prisoner standing outside the Dolphin public-house, while I was with the constable, and I identified him, and went with him to the station.
Cross-examined. The Dolphin is about twenty yards from my house—
the prisoner was standing there in a stooping position—I had never seen him before that night but once, when he came to the door the night we came to live there; he said, "I beg your pardon," and walked away; I never spoke to him in my life—when he was arrested I told the police-man what I had heard him say in the public-house—I could not exactly tell whether the woman was drinking; I was only in there two or three minutes.
JOSEPH NORTON . I am a bootmaker, and live at 12, Brick Lane—I know the prisoner, he was a fellow-workman—we were working together on the 16th December—we left work together, about a quarter-past eight—I went to buy a coat, and then we went to the Weavers' Arms; we were there about a quarter of an hour—after that we went to the Ship; the prisoner said we would go there and have half a pint, and then ho had got to meet his missis; when we came out the deceased was outside—she had no baby with her; this would be about half-past nine—she wanted half a pint of ale, and he said, "Come down lower," and I said, "Yes, come to the George"—they were having a jangle together on the road; I did not take notice what it was about—we all three went together to the George—I paid for a pot of ale—the prisoner told me not to give her any—she said, "You would not give me a drink with you, I would stick my fingers up your nose "; she did not do anything—the three of us drank up the beer and went out—she said, "Good-night," and left us, and the prisoner and I went to another public-house, the Flower Pot, at the corner of Brick Lane—after that we shook hands, and I told him to meet me at the shop in the morning, and I would be there at half-past nine—it was about a quarter-past ten when I left him.
Cross-examined. He did not say he was going to meet his missis and give her a shilling; I said, "Go and give her a shilling and make things right"—he said he would go and see her—that was when I left him.
KATE BATTY . I am seven years old—I live with my mother, Mrs. Kennedy, at 4, Old Nicol Street, in the room opposite Mrs. Lewis—I remember going to her room to mind the baby; that was about eight o'clock on the day of Mrs. Sullivan's death—when I went into the room I saw Mrs. Sullivan there with the baby—she gave me the baby, and went away and left me alone in the room with the baby—in about half an hour Mrs. Sullivan came in; she took the baby from me—the prisoner came in next, and sat down by the fireplace; Mrs. Sullivan said to him, "Go out of this room; get out of the woman's room"—he said, "No, I am not going out of this room to-night"—he brought up this steel from the fireplace and told me to hold it; I said, "No "; the woman said, "Go on, he won't hurt you "; and then I did hold it—he then went to walk into my, mother's room—I said I would tell my mother when she came back—he walked back into Mrs. Lewis's room again—Mrs. Sullivan asked him if he was going out of the room again—he said, "No"—then she went out, taking the baby with her, and I went into my mother's room—I laid the steel on the table in the middle of the room, and left him in the room alone.
Cross-examined. The steel was in the fender—it was used as a poker.
CATHERINE KENNEDY . I am the mother of the last witness—on 16th December, between eight and nine, Mrs. Sullivan came to my room and asked me if I would mind a little baby while she went to meet her husband
—I said "Yes," and I sent my little girl into Mrs. Lewis's room—about half-past nine Mrs. Sullivan came back—I gave her a penny, and she went out again—a little after ten I saw her sitting on the doorstep opposite—before that I had heard voices in Mrs. Lewis's room, and I heard Mrs. Sullivan scream out to the man, "Go out of the woman's room!"—after that I saw her on the doorstep; she had the baby with her—she asked me if I would have a drink with her, and we went into a public-house and had a glass of ale—after that I left her—I saw her go into another public-house next to where I live, the Portobello—she went in there by herself, with the baby in her arms—later on I again heard voices in Mrs. Lewis's room; I heard her scream out again for the man to go out of the room—later on Mrs. Lewis came and knocked at my door; I went into her room, and saw the deceased lying on the floor at the foot of the bedstead—she was quite sober when I parted with her.
Cross-examined. "Within the half-hour she had been in three public-houses.
ALFRED COOK . I live at 48, Dunlow Street, and am potman at the Dolphin public-house—that is about half a stone's throw from 4, Old Nicol Street—on 16th December the prisoner came there about half-past eleven—he had two glasses of rum, and he asked me to have half a pint of beer—while he was drinking a knife dropped from him—I picked it up; this is the knife—he said, "I will show you how to use it"; and he rubbed it down my chest, so (describing)—I said to him, "I think you had better go out."
Cross-examined. I put him out; I gave him back the knife—he began to get rather cross—he did not assault me—after I got him outside I persuaded him to go home, and while talking to him the knife dropped on the pavement—he picked it up himself—I said, "You had better throw the knife away, or you may get into trouble."
ALBERT HAWKYARD (354 E). On 16th December, about half-past eleven, I went to 4, Old Nicol Street, and saw the body of Abigail Sullivan at the foot of the bed—I pointed out the position of the furniture to Tyrrell, who made the plan; it correctly represents it.
PERCY JOHN CLARK . I am a surgeon, of 2, Spital Square—I am assistant divisional surgeon—on 16th December, about twenty minutes to twelve, I was called to 4, Old Nicol Street, where I saw the body of Abigail Sullivan—in my opinion she had been dead about half an hour—I found a wound on the upper portion of the right side of the chest—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination—the wound had divided the cartilage of the second rib on the right side—it had pierced through the edge of the right lung, and penetrated the pericardium, wounding the aorta about an inch from the heart—that caused hemorrhage, which was the cause of death—the wound was the cause of death—it was such a wound as might have been caused by this knife.
Cross-examined. There was only one wound upon her—the clothing had apparently been opened—the chest was bare—she had on the body of a dress and a petticoat bodice—I think there were stays on; I am not sure—there must have been a considerable amount of force used to divide the cartilage of the rib and cause the wound—there were scars upon her, but no recent ones.
By the COURT. It was a downward blow, holding the knife so (a stab)—the blow was above the position of the stays.
EDWARD BROWN (389 E). On 16th December, about twenty minutes to twelve, I was called to 4, Old Nicol Street—I saw Selina Lewis, and. afterwards went out and saw the prisoner just outside the Dolphin—when I came up to him he dropped his head, and turned round with his back to me—I said, "What's the matter?"—he said, "Nothing; I have only had a drop of drink"—I said, "I shall take you in custody on suspicion of stabbing a woman at 4, Old Nicol Street"—he said, "Quite right; I am James Muir, the man you want"—I then caught hold of his right arm, when I heard something drop on the pavement—I looked down and saw this knife—I asked the witness Alfred Kennedy to pick it up, which he did—at the station I noticed blood upon it—I tool: the prisoner to the station, and took him to the inspector, and said, "I have Drought this man in custody on suspicion of stabbing a woman at 4, Old Nicol Street"—the prisoner said, "I confess it"—Selina Lewis came in later, and when she identified him he said, "It was all through you."
Cross-examined. He had been drinking—he went quietly with me to the station—he made no attempt to escape or to struggle.
CAROLINE HALL . I live at 67, Old Nicol Street—I know the prisoner, and knew the deceased—I have heard disputes between them—I have heard him threaten her—I heard him say that he would give her a good hiding some night, and that he would swing for her—that was six weeks before this.
JOHN TYRRELL (Re-called). The size of the table that was in the middle of the room was 3 feet 1 inch in length, and about 2 in width, and the weight between 16lbs. and 17lbs.—it would be rather an awkward weapon for a woman to use—it was a deal table, very frail made—a woman could use it very well.
GUILTY .— DEATH .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, February 11th, 1892.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. JONES LEWIS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
WILLIAM JENNETT . I am a labourer, of 3, Luton Road, Mile End—on December 26th, shortly before 11 o'clock, I and my sister and my brother-in-law were in the Globe public-house—the prisoner was there, standing about a yard from his friend—we called for a drink, and the prisoner's friend got a bit quarrelsome with us—my sister said, "Let us come out of it, he is making a disturbance"—he was a bit drunk, and wanted to fight my brother-in-law—he abused my sister, and used bad
names to her—I got very wild, and struck him in the face with my fist and knocked him down—he fell in a corner, and while we were having, a bit of a scuffle I heard the report of a revolver, and saw the prisoner with a revolver, his hand pointing up—he was about a yard and a half from me—I closed with him, and in the struggle a second shot was fired—I cannot say whether it was the shot or the trigger, but the skin of my hand was rose; it did not bleed, it only just scratched the skin—I wrenched the revolver from him, and gave him in charge—I did not hit or attack the prisoner in any way; I only attacked his friend.
Cross-examined. The Globe is a corner house—there is a public bar and a private saloon—I think there are four doors—we were in the private box—as we went in, the prisoner's wife left, and another woman with her, with a baby in her arms—the revolver was discharged when I was facing the bar—there were bottles of spirits and glasses and cigar boxes behind the bar—I heard no sound of glass breaking when the pistol was fired—I was sent into the cells at the Police-court by the Magistrate because I declined to answer several questions—the only trace of a bullet was as if the man had fired up to the ceiling—the word "toff" means a swell—I did not call the prisoner and his friend a pair of toffs; the word was never spoken—I did not see beer thrown over the prisoner, or see that his lip was cut inside—he may have only fired the pistol to frighten the people who were attacking him—I was close to him, and yet the revolver was fired at me, and I was not hit—I did not go to a doctor; I put a handkerchief round my hand—it never bled, it was a graze on the palm of my hand—this is the revolver. (A very small one.)—it might have been the cock that did me the damage—the bullet went through his hand, and I saw his hand bleeding at the station—my sister got a constable—there were not five other people—Waghe did nothing before the revolver was fired—the whole thing did not last a minute.
Re-examined. I did not touch the prisoner; it was his friend I struck.
CHARLES WAGHE . I married the prosecutor's sister—I went with him and my wife into the Globe public-house on this night—the prisoner and a friend of his and two females were there—he and his friend were standing about a yard and a half apart—I called for drink, and while the landlord was serving me the prisoner's friend was using very bad language to my wife; she said, "Come out, Charley"—he was drunk, the prosecutor struck him, and he fell up against the bar—the prisoner then drew a revolver, and fired one shot—he pointed it up rather towards the ceiling—I do not think he meant to do us any harm, it was to frighten us—my brother-in-law caught hold of him with two arms, and in the struggle another shot went off—he was given in custody—my brother-in-law did not touch or strike him, only his friend—I was perfectly sober.
WILLIAM WINSLOW . I am potman at the Globe—on 26th December, about 11 p.m., I was in the bar, and heard a report, as of glass breaking—I saw no scuffle—I ran round and caught hold of the prisoner's hand—the prosecutor said, "Let him go; he has nothing to do with you," not knowing who I was—I said I should hold him; I never saw the revolver, and did not hear the second shot.
Cross-examined. When I looked round I found no glass had been broken—the house was full, and there was much confusion—this
occurred in front of the bar—a constable came, and he was given in charge.
WILLIAM BURDEN (185 K). I was called to the Globe, and saw the prosecutor holding the prisoner, who said, "Two women and a man set upon me to rob me, and I shot at the man in self-defence"—the prosecutor said that the prisoner's friend kept coming to his wife, and gave the prisoner in charge, saying that he shot at him with a revolver, which he handed to me—the prisoner had been drinking, but he walked perfectly straight to the station.
Cross-examined. He went perfectly quietly—he was wearing a diamond ring and a watch-chain, and had money on him—I think the prisoner and his friend were quite sober: they were drinking at the time—I did not see a woman with the prisoner.
HENRY SIMMONDS . (Police Inspector K). On 26th December Burden brought the prisoner to Bow Police-station, and I charged him with feloniously shooting at William Jennett, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm; he said, "I was set on by these men; I must protect myself, and I think that is the first duty of a man; I did fire two shots, and I would fire forty if I had them"—he had been drinking, and was very excited, but he was not drunk, he knew what he was about—I went to the house and found the trace of a bullet on the ceiling, which is eleven or twelve feet high—I found no other mark—Burden gave me this pin-fire revolver; I found four loaded cartridges in it, and two discharged ones.
By the JURY. A cork would not make the mark on the ceiling—it had glanced off, and I could not find it.
Cross-examined. It was a leaden mark—it did not penetrate the ceiling—the forefinger of the prisoner's left hand was bleeding; the missing bullet may be in his finger—he bears a good character, and has been at his present address twenty-two years, which is about five minutes' walk from the Globe—an unsuccessful attempt was made to break into his house a year and nine months ago, but I have not heard that he has carried a revolver since that—you can buy a revolver like this at any pawnbroker's for three or four shillings.
Re-examined. I saw Jennett's hand; the skin was broken—there was a graze from which no blood came.
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BLANCHARD . I am a bicycle dealer, under the title of The London Cycle and Fitting Stores, 34, Snow Hill—on Saturday, 16th January, the prisoner called and handed me this card, with "George Townsend and Co." on it, and said he was their agent—I knew them as manufacturers—he produced this invoice, and said, "These goods are lying to my order at St. Pancras," and asked if I would take them on sale oaf commission—I agreed, and he was to call on the Monday—he gave me a delivery order, and asked for an advance of £2, which I gave him, for
which he gave me an I O U—he came on the Monday and said he found there was £4 payable to the railway company on the crates of bicycles, and would I let him have another £2—I gave it to him, and took an I O U for £4—on the Tuesday I got some information—I was away on the Wednesday, and on Thursday, the 21st, he called again and said, "I now find the railway company want £2 15s. more"—I said, "How does the charge arise?"—he said, "The greater portion of it is due to the South Western Railway Company; if you will pay the £2 15s. I can clear the goods for you"—the South-Western Railway does not run to St. Pancras—I requested him to call again that morning, and in the meantime I got a constable, and then told the prisoner he must go to the station and give an explanation, and he was then given in custody—he then said if I would go with him to St. Pancras directly he would clear the goods; but if I chose to cancel the transaction he would return the £4—I parted with my money on the faith of the representation he made of being an agent, and having authority to deal with the goods—I would not have parted with it if I had known that only 13s. 6d. was claimed by the railway company—I saw him write an I O U, and to the best of my belief this telegram (produced) is his writing.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. Mr. Casey brought you and introduced you to me; he is my managing partner—he said you wanted £2, and I immediately gave it to you—you wrote the order to the railway company to deliver the goods, on one of our forms to save time—I do not recollect your saying you had not one of Mr. Townsend's forms with you—you addressed the envelope, and left the letter with me, and I posted it—you said on the Thursday that the charges were £6 15s., and I said something about giving you a cheque for £6 15s., intending to stop it, and so check the fraud; I was merely temporising—I have no recollection of your suggesting who it should be made payable to—you did not say that the railway company would not take it, and ask me to make it payable to Townsend and Co.—you said at the station that you could return the £4 within an hour.
HOWARD JAMES FAULKNER . I am a delivery clerk at the Midland Railway, King's Cross—on January 18 I received this delivery order B—there were ten crates of bicycles there, to the order of Townsend and Co.; not to the order of the prisoner—they had never been on the South-Western line—they came on the London, Chatham, and Dover, who charged 10s. 3d., and our charges were 3s. 5d., making a total of 13s. 8d.—they had been lying there about a month—the prisoner got one crate, No. 7, on delivery of this order. (Dated January 4th, and signed Townsend and Co., p. c. Adey)—I did not tell him there was £2 due, or that there was a further £2 due, and that £2 15s. was due—I only saw him once, when he brought the order.
Cross-examined. I do not remember you saying that two gentlemen would probably come next day to see the machines—I did not say that there were any charges due on them.
ALBERT CHARLES STANTON . I am office-boy in the employ of Charles Townsend and Co., Limited—I copied a letter in this letter-book on January 7th, and posted the letter to the prisoner. (This was from Townsend and Co., dated January 7th, stating that unless he remitted all money received by return of post, they should consult their solicitor; and ordering him
not to transact any business for them till the matter was cleared up. Notice to produce this letter had been served on the prisoner, who declared that he had never received it.)—that was the only letter sent to the prisoner on that day—I took it to the post with the other letters, at a shop not at a pillar; I had to go to catch the 7.30 post.
Cross-examined. I copied fifteen or sixteen letters that day; perhaps twenty-six—this was by Mr. King's directions—after copying it I put it in an envelope and addressed it, "Mr. A. Adey, Bond's Hotel, 14 and 16, Surrey Street, Strand, London"—I do not recollect saying at Guildhall that it was 7.45 when I posted it—I put it in a letter-bag, strapped it up, took it to the post-office, and gave it to the postmaster.
Cross-examined. That is the custom of the country post-offices, if you have got a lot; but if you have only one or two, you put them into the box.
FREDERICK KING . I am secretary to George Townsend and Co., cycle manufacturers, of Redditch—the prisoner was engaged temporarily, in November last, as traveller—on January 7th I signed the letter suspending him—this is a copy of it in the letter-book—I always write the address at the top of the letter, and the boy takes it from that—it has not come back through the Dead Letter Office—I got this telegram the next day, about 7.45 or 7.50: "West Strand. Letter just received, for which hold you responsible.—Adey."—no letter had been written to the prisoner the day before; this is the only one he received from us—I have no doubt that the writing of this original telegram is the prisoner's.
Cross-examined. You were stopped from doing all business till you had cleared up these matters; you have not been reinstated—our letters go out about seven o'clock to catch the 7.30 post, and sometimes earlier—this letter would be delivered next morning, because there were other letters, replies to which came back in due course—I have never seen a letter from you requesting that your letters might be posted in the afternoon, so that you might get them in the morning; it is absurd.
Re-examined. If a letter was posted late, it would be delivered by the second post—I got the telegram the following evening; he would have had the letter the next day, whether or no.
DANIEL DENNON (City Detective Sergeant). On 31st January, about 1.30 p.m., I was called to Mr. Blanchard's office—the prisoner was there—Mr. Blanchard said to him, "You still represent Townsend and Co.?"—he said, "Yes"—Mr. Blanchard said, "You say you want. £2 15s. more to clear the machines?"—he said, "Yes"—Mr. Blanchard said, "You have already had £4"—he said, "Yes"—Mr. Blanchard said, "I have made inquiries and find it is a fraud; the police are here, and you will have to go to the station and explain it to the inspector"—he said, "It is not a fraud; if you come with me to St. Pancras Goods Station you can have the machines away to-day, or I will bring you back the £4 within an hour"—I served notice on the prisoner to produce the papers.
Cross-examined. I did not hear Mr. Casey say, "If you return the £4 there is an end of the matter"; or hear you say to him, "If you will come into the City with me I will give you the £4 in half an hour"—
you said, "If you let me go to the City I will bring the £4 in an hour."
Cross-examined. You saw me on Saturday previous to seeing Mr. Blanchard, and agreed that we should have the machines to sell on commission, and that they were to be on view, so that any customers could see them—I introduced you to Mr. Blanchard—I have known you some six years as traveller for a large firm, Bound and Co., of Birmingham, but you did not know Mr. Blanchard.
The prisoner in his defence stated that after a sale at the Crystal Palace he was instructed to get rid of all the machines he could, and had been in treaty with several people, but had only disposed of one, and called on Mr. Casey; that Mr. Blanchard made him an advance, but afterwards said he had had a letter stating that the prisoner was not in Messrs. Townsend's employ, and he replied, "This is the first time I have heard of my dismissal," and that the railway company would have accepted his signature if they had not received a letter from Messrs. Townsend to the contrary. He denied ever receiving the letter of January 7th, and stated that his telegram related to a letter of January 6th.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, February 11th, 1892.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. ST. AUBYN Defended.
WILLIAM PALMER (Detective City) About half-past eleven p.m. on Saturday, 2nd January, I was in Fleet Street, and saw Lester at the side door of Saqui and Lawrence's, who are jewellers, of 97, Fleet Street—he was standing as close as he could get to the doorway, and then he left the doorway and was joined by Goldsmith; they faced each other, and appeared to be speaking, and then Goldsmith went towards the end of Bride Lane, where the side door is, and Lester went back to the door—while he was there, Goldsmith was raising his hat from his head—a constable in uniform was coming down Fleet Street on his beat—Goldsmith went from his corner, and Lester came from the doorway, and both prisoners went towards the Punch tavern—the constable passed them, and after he had come out into Bride Lane, Goldsmith followed him, and stood towards the corner of Bride Lane again, and Lester went to the door again, and appeared to be stooping down at the bottom part of it—while he was there, Goldsmith was raising his hat—I gave instructions to some policemen, and went back to Saqui and Lawrence's doorway; both prisoners were there; at the same time Cuthbert came out of the Punch tavern, and went towards the doorway; he lives there—I heard him him say, "There is someone breaking into the premises"—I said, "All right," and grasped Goldsmith and Lester by the necks, and handed them to the constable—they asked me what I was doing—I said, "Take them to the station"—they said, "What for?"—I said, "I will tell you later on"—I and Cuthbert went through the
door, and I saw an iron door, that shuts off the upper part of the premises, was bent from the top, and there was a broomstick through the opening, moving about—the iron door is fastened by padlock and bar—we got the keys, opened the door, and I went up to the top of the building—I found the trap-door leading to the roof open—between the ceiling and the tiles I found a large sack and a man's black felt hat—I examined a kind of lumber-room on the third floor, and found three, marks as if persons had made water, and three distinct marks of spitting, as if they had been there some time smoking and spitting—I went out on to the roof; you can get along the roof from 97 to 89, Fleet Street; 89 would be the first trap-door you would get to from 97, and you would pass 95—it would be possible to get into the trap-door of 97, the tavern—I went to the police-station, and there saw Goldsmith, Lester, and King in custody; they were black and dirty, and King had no hat—they were charged with burglariously breaking and entering Saqui and Lawrence's place—Goldsmith made some remark about that they could not be charged—I said, "You will all be charged together"—on Goldsmith I found two keys, a box of matches, and some three shillings and eightpence-halfpenny; on Lester, keys and a box of matches; on King, a box of matches and a key; and on Harrison a box of matches, a pipe, and a knife—the keys were all ordinary ones; all the matches were silent, and of the same brand and name—afterwards I examined the premises, and found that the collarette fastening the iron door was forced back and the woodwork splintered, and the iron door had been split—next morning I found, in St. Bride's churchyard, these two jemmies, a chisel, and this gimlet, about a yard from the building, and perhaps five or six yards from Saqui and Lawrence's—they were together, so that anyone could put his hand through the railings and pick them up at one grasp—there is in the side door a letter-box through which they would pass—I took them to the station, and showed them to the prisoners—Samson said, "Anyone could do that"—King said, "I will own that is my hat," and at the Police-court he made application for it, and I gave it to him.
Cross-examined by Goldsmith. It was shortly after twelve when I took you into custody, because people were coming out of the public-house—I saw you and Lester together for a good half-hour; it was half-past eleven when I first saw you—they were two ordinary door-keys that were found on you—I did not find the jemmies and other things till daylight, and I brought them over to the police-station between seven and eight the following morning, and showed them to you at once.
Cross-examined. When I apprehended you you said you had just come out of the Bell: I said it was wrong, because I had not seen you come out" at all.
Cross-examined by MR. ST. AUBYN. The prosecutor only occupies the ground floor and basement of his premises; he has one entrance in Fleet Street to the shop, and the entrance in Bride Lane leads to the upper part—there is a barber's shop immediately above the shop, and above that are people engaged in bookbinding—altogether there are four storeys—the iron door is open all day long, till the people leave—I found no half-sovereign on King; if it had been found I should hare found it—I did not see him till I got to the station.
Cross-examined by Samson. A pathway runs between the churchyard
and the house—the tools could not have boon thrown from the house, but worn placed there carefully; they would pass through the letter-box, so that anybody outside could pass them through.
EDWIN CUTHBERT . I am manager to Saqui and Lawrence, jewellers, who occupy the shop on the ground floor of 97, Fleet Street—I sleep at the back of the shop, and am the only person sleeping there—an iron door shuts off our part of the premises from the upper part—there is a side door in Bride Lane—on Saturday, 2nd January, I went out about ten minutes to eleven, shutting the side-door, and leaving everything safe inside—about twelve I came back, and wont to the side door—I heard a noise inside, as I thought—when I got inside I saw a broom-handle coming through the iron door—I said something, and Palmer came up—we wont in, undid the iron door, and ho wont upstairs and arrested Lester and Goldsmith—our jewellery had not boon touched.
Cross-examined by Goldsmith, The door in Bride Lane was the same as I had left it, when I came back.
ALFRED GRAY . I am manager of the Punch Tavern, 99, Fleet Street—I live and sleep there—on this Saturday night, about twenty minutes past eleven, I returned home and went to the side door in Bride Lane, which is almost opposite Saqui and Lawrence's side door—I saw Goldsmith and Lester coming out of the Punch—a little while afterwards I went to our door and saw Lester stooping down at Saqui and Lawrence's door, and Goldsmith at the corner of the street raising his hat—at three minutes to twelve I again went to the door to put out the lights, and saw Lester at the door in a stooping position, with his mouth to the letterbox, and Goldsmith at the corner of the street;—I spoke to Cuthbert, who left me, and afterwards I heard a police whistle.
ELIZABETH JENKINS . I live at 97, Fleet Street, and am employed at the Old Bell public-house—about half-past twelve on the morning of 3rd January I was going upstairs to bed, and I met King, who had no hat, on the staircase—I said, "Who is that?"—he said, "Oh, it is all right, miss; I have been up to the top"—I let him pass, and then called to the two barmen, who came up and took him down to the bar—I had seen Goldsmith and Lester the latter part of the evening drinking in the Bell.
Cross-examined by Goldsmith. I saw you with Lester in the Bell two or three times, I think—the last time was about half-past eleven, I think.
Cross-examined by MR. ST. AUBYN. King said he had been to the w. c. upstairs—there is one at the top of the house.
JOHN MCFARLANE . I am a licensed victualler, at the Old Bell, 95, Fleet Street—between a quarter and half-past twelve on the early morning of the 3rd January I saw King detained at my bar by my two barmen—I said, "What are you doing here?"—he said, "I went up. to the w. c."—I asked him whore his hat was; ho said his brother-in-law had been knocking him about—he asked for a glass of ale, and put a half-sovereign on the counter, I did not serve him; it was past the time-Knight came and took him into custody—at the top of my house is an attic window, through which it would be possible to get from the loads; I think that very likely it was open that night, because the catch had not been turned—King answered me all right; he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined by MR. ST. AUBYN. I think ho put the half-sovereign into his pocket again.
FREDERICK KNIGHT (420 City). Between a quarter and half-past twelve on this night I was in plain clothes in Ludgate Circus—I heard a policeman's whistle, and went into Fleet Street to Saqui and Lawrence's, and then to the Bell, where I saw King in the bar—I asked him what he was doing there—he said he wanted some beer—I said, "It is after hours; you cannot be served; how did you get in here?"—he said he did not know—ho had no hat—I said, "Where is your hat?"—he did not know—he was very dirty—I said, "You will have to came with me to the station"—he was sober.
SAMUEL DERBYSHIRE . I am clerk to Messrs. Pooley and Son, weighing machine makers, of 89, Fleet Street—Mrs. Amelia Mortlock sleeps on the premises—about one o'clock on Saturday the front and side doors of the premises were closed, bolted, locked, and made secure—about ten o'clock on the morning of the 3rd I got up and went to the trap-door at the top, which communicates with the roof, and found it open and split into two pieces; the place was all deranged—persons could come through the broken trap which leads to our workshop, and from there get to any part of the premises, and out into St. Bride's Passage, three or four doors from Saqui and Lawrence's—the housekeeper's room is on the fourth floor.
AMELIA MORTLOCK . I was housekeeper to Messrs. Pooley, 89, Fleet Street, and slept there on 3rd January in my bedroom on the top floor but one—a little after midnight I heard a scuffling overhead, and then some men ran downstairs; I shouted out of the window to the policeman, who came.
ROBERT BAUMER (972 City). Between a quarter and half-past twelve on this Sunday morning I hoard Mrs. Pooley shouting out that there were some men on the roof—I climbed up a water-spout and got in at the first floor window—I heard someone on the staircase, shouted for assistance, wont across the room, opened a door leading on to the staircase, and saw Samson and Harrison coming down—I took Samson, who showed a little resistance, but when he saw Ballard, who got in by a ladder, he said he would go quietly—I took him down, and came out into St. Bride's Avenue, which was the side I had got up.
CALEB BALLARD (Sergeant 40 City). I received a message from Palmer a little after midnight, went to 97, Fleet Street, and placed constables round the block of buildings from 97 to 89—when Baumer climbed up the water-spout I got up a ladder and in at the same window, and saw Samson and Harrison on the staircase—I took Harrison, who said, "All right, governor, we are done; we will go quietly; there is some one at the trap-door at the top"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined by Samson. Baumer was on the staircase before I got round the corner; I saw you make no resistance.
THOMAS GREGORY (Detective C). On 31st of last December I saw the five prisoners talking together outside a public-house in the Charing Cross Road—I know them well by sight, but I cannot swear to King; to the best of my belief he was there.
Goldsmith in his defence said that he and Letter were waiting about to see a friend whom they expected to meet in the Bell, when Palmer caught hold of them.
Letter made a similar statement, and added that he went to the doorway to light his pipe.
Harrison and Samson stated that they went up to the hairdresser's on the first floor to see if they could steal an overcoat or umbrella from a peg or hat-stand; that hearing someone they ran upstairs, and that after finding the iron door shut they tried to open it, and then went to the trap-door. They admitted going into the house for an unlawful purpose, but declared that (hey had no intention of committing burglary.
Goldsmith then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in February, 1888; Samson** to one in February, 1889; King** to one in February, 1885, and Lester and Harrison** to one in June, 1890.
GOLDSMITH and LESTER— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
KING— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
HARRISON and SAMSON— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each.
MR. KYD Prosecuted, and MR. DE WITT Defended.
BESSIE HUGHES . I am a widow, living at 22, Raphael Street—I saw the prisoner write this cheque (B) on 22nd December—he asked me to endorse it, and I did so—I believe ho gave it to Ada Gamble; I was slightly under the influence of drink at the time, and I have a very vague idea of it—Ada Gamble came back afterwards with some money, which I believe she gave to me, but the prisoner took it out of my hand, and I believe he left the house; I did not see him leave—this cheque (0) is in the prisoner's writing—the "Bessie Hughes" on the back of it is not in my writing—these cheques (A and B) are in the prisoner's writing, the endorsements are in mine.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for five years; I did not invite him to come on 23rd December; he might have been there a few hours, I think he came at night—sometimes he came in the morning, but more often in the evening—I cannot remember if he stayed the night on 23rd December; he did so on 24th or 25th—he did on 26th and 27th—he was backwards and forwards at my house all that time-directly he got the money he left the house—I did not suggest to him to write the cheque—I never asked him for money—he said the cheque-book was his mother's, and that he had a balance of £250 at the bank, and I believed him and endorsed the cheques—he sent the cheques to Mr. Forbes, because Mr. Forbes had cashed small cheques for me, as I have a small annuity coming in, and he knew that by putting my name at the back he could get the money—I did not suggest his sending the cheque to Mr. Forbes; the prisoner knew he had been in the habit of cashing my cheques—I did not go to that public-house during that week; I never left the house; I had refreshments from there—I had a little more on Christmas Day than was good for me, and the prisoner had too much, but I don't think he was much the worse for it—I cannot say if the prisoner was drinking from 23rd December to the following Monday, and was more or less drunk the whole time—I was rather intoxicated during that period—the cheque of 23rd December must have been the one sent by Ada Gamble two days before Christmas Day, I believe—I had none of the proceeds of the 25th December cheque—all I had from those cheques was £2, and that was spent on eatables—I believe a bottle of brandy and the change were brought for every cheque that was sent
and I believe the prisoner brought some brandy with him—this was not my cheque-book; I never had one in my life—Mr. Forbes had before this changed cheques for me; they were not drawn by myself.
BESSIE WOOD . I am the wife of John Henry Wood, a barman—on 28th December I was at 22, Raphael Street, in Mrs. Hughes's room—the prisoner wrote out this cheque (A), and asked me to take it to Mr. Forbes to change—I did so; Mr. Forbes gave me the change, which I took back to the prisoner, who soon afterwards left the house—that was the first cheque I had changed for him.
Cross-examined. I handed the cheque to the barman, who gave it to Mr. Forbes, and he gave me the money without saying anything.
ADA GAMBLE . I am thirteen, and live at 22, Raphael Street, with my mother—I have seen the prisoner at Mrs. Hughes's—on 24th December he asked me to change a cheque on the National Bank—I took it to Mr. Forbes, who gave me £5 5s. change—I gave the money to Mrs. Hughes, and the prisoner jumped up and snatched it away from her.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner at Mrs. Hughes's about three or four times before—he was a visitor there—I saw one of the barmen at the public-house, and said, "Please will you change this cheque for Mrs. Hughes?"—he took it upstairs, came back, and gave me the money—there was a great deal of drink going on during this Christmas time; Mrs. Hughes was intoxicated; the prisoner was not so intoxicated as she was; he drank a food deal—I fetched drink continually from the public-house for them while he was stopping there at Christmas time—often go for Mrs. Hughes; I go on her errands—I think I got two bottles of brandy and six sodas; nothing else.
VINA GAMBLE . I am the wife of Edward Gamble, of 22, Raphael Street, and the mother of Ada Gamble—on the Sunday after Christmas the prisoner Rave me a cheque, and asked me to take it to Mr. Forbes, at the Pakenham Arms—I did so, got £5 5s., and gave it to the prisoner in the hall.
Cross-examined. I brought back Ho drink—I gave the cheque to one of the barmen, and asked him if he would change it for Mrs. Hughes, and he went away, and Mr. Forbes brought me the change—I went into Mrs. Hughes's room several times; I have had a glass of drink—the prisoner had a lot of drink.
ROBERT FORBES . I keep the Pakenham Tavern, No. 1, Raphael Street—Ada Gamble brought me this cheque (B), payable to Mrs. Hughes or bearer, and signed "Clissold," and I cashed it; Mrs. Wood brought this one (C), and I also cashed it—I have been in the habit of cashing cheques for Mrs. Hughes; hitherto they had always been paid, and when she sent these I cashed them because she gets an allowance of £100 a-year—I also cashed these other cheques; one is without endorsement—I knew the prisoner was staying at Mrs. Hughes'—all these cheques have been returned marked" no account."
Cross-examined. I had never seen Mrs. Hughes before this charge—cheques were sent down by her landlady to start with—I knew her as a very good customer—I have cashed her cheques when she has got her allowance of £25 a quarter—I have lent her a little money on a pawnticket—that was without seeing her—I changed all the cheques myself—they are all made out to bearer; I noticed one had no endorsement—I
should not nave changed them if her name had not been on the back to start with.
Re-examined. I was told by the servant Clissold was staying with her.
JOSEPH HOWDEN . I am a clerk to the Notting Hill branch of the National Bank—I do not know the prisoner; he never had any account at our bank—these cheques come from a book issued to Mrs. James, our customer.
JOHN MOGUIKE (Sergeant B). On 24th January I went to 27, Chisleton Road, Fulham, where Mr. and Mrs. James live—the prisoner was in bed on the first floor—I told him I was a police-officer, and held a warrant for his arrest—I read the warrant; he said, "Yes, it is all right; I am the right man. What I did I intended to pay for. I burnt the cheque-book; it belonged to Mrs. James; I took it from her drawer"—I took him to the station; he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I saw Mrs. James at the house—she said the cheque-book was stolen.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROUTH Prosecuted.
FLORENCE SWIFT . I am the wife of Richard Swift, of 22, Quadrant Road, Essex Road—on 23rd January I went out, at two p.m., after closing and locking up my house—I left a dressing-gown, dolman, and dressing-case, and this receipt for money, in my room—I returned at midnight, and as I was giving my little son his supper I heard the closing of a door, but I paid no attention till I got to my bedroom, and then I saw that all the drawers were turned out, and all the things packed in the middle of the room to take away—my husband's dressing-case, my dressing-gown, and dolman were gone—these are the dressing-gown and dolman, the dressing-case has not been found—I never saw the prisoner before.
EDWARD DREW (Detective Sergeant N). On 24th January I was passing through Ronald Road, Highbury, and saw the prisoner coming towards me along Hollis Road; as soon as he caught sight of me he was going into a doorway—I pretended to walk on, and then ceased walking, and I heard his footsteps as if proceeding towards me—I pretended I was drunk and unable to walk; he approached me, and I noticed he was carrying a bag behind him, over his shoulder—I was in plain clothes—I said, "I am a police-officer; tell me what you have got in that bag"—he said, "Show me your authority"—I showed it to him—he said, "They are some things I bought of a man at Kingsland, between seven and eight to-night"—I said, "Who is he?"—he said, "I don't know, he is a dealer; that is all I know about it; a dealer in the street"—I said, "Where did you get the bag?"—he said, "I got that somewhere else"—I said, "That is somewhat strange, buying the things at one place and the bag at another"—I was looking at the things—he said, "Oh, I got it off the same man"—I said it was rather suspicious—he said, "I live here at 100, Kingsland Road, near by; you can come and see"—I said I should have to take him into custody before I went to his house—I charged him with unlawful possession, and searched him and found this receipt in his waistcoat pocket—I asked him if he could explain what it
was—he said, "No, I have had it two or three days, and that is all I
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in May, 1887.— Five years' Penal Servitude.
The GRAND JURY commended the conduct of Sergeant Drew.
MR. BETHONY Prosecuted, and MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Defended Brice.
HERMANN WENDOLF . I live at 28, Denmark Street-about eleven p.m. on 26th December I was at the corner of Denmark and cable Streets; there was a big lamp at the corner—Brice said to me, "Where do you want to go; I am master and landlord here"—he stood in front of me and a man was behind me, and Hearn at my side—they took me by the neck and hit my nose, and I bled very much; Hearn rifled my pockets, while the others held me; my purse with 3s. 6d. in. it was taken—they knocked me down, kicked me, and then ran down Denmark Street—I got up afterwards and saw a policeman coming-afterwards, on the same night, I went to the police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. HUMPHHREYS. I had worked from two to ten, and then I washed and got to the Crown about eleven o'clock—I had two half-pints at Stepney when I finished work—very likely I was going into the Crown to have another—I was quite sober—I was about twenty steps from the public-house when I was assaulted—it was open and there was plenty of light—the men were standing at the other side of the street—I was on the opposite side to the public-house—I had. seen Hearn but not Brice before—I gave the constable a description of the men—Brice was perfectly sober—I lost a good deal of blood I was on the ground five or six minutes—directly they came up they began assaulting me; I got two black eyes, and I was stiff—a good many blows were placed on my face, and many kicks; I was kicked on my head—I only showed my eyes and nose to the doctor.
Cross-examined by Hearn. I knew you directly;. said it was you at the station—I had seen you before this night in the Crown I was not in there that night—I never knew you do anything wrong before this night—the big lamp was on the other side.
WILLIAM THOMPWN (Detective H R). About 10 30 on 28th December I was in St. George's Street with Sziemonowitz—I saw Brice coming out of the Jolly Sailors public-house—as soon as he saw me coming towards him he rushed into another compartment of the Jolly Sailors—I went in and told him I should take him into custody suspicion or being concerned with two other men not in custody for robbing and assaulting a man at the corner of Denmark Street on Saturday night—he said,?" I know nothing at all about † among eight or nine others, and Wendolf identified him.
Cross-examined by MR. HUMPHREYS. He lives at 9, Mayfield Buildings, about 150 yards from St. George's Street.
should take" him into custody as answering the description of a man wanted for being concerned with two other men for assault and robbery on 26th instant—he said, "I know nothing of it"—he was placed among seven or eight others at the station, and identified by Wendolf without hesitation.
Cross-examined by Hearn. I cannot say if you were going to work at the time—you had a ticket to prove you were at work.
HARRY SEQUIRA . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—on 1st January I saw Wendolf—he had two large bruises under his eyes and clots of blood in his nose, and was pale, as if from loss of blood-taking into consideration that the blows had been dealt five days before, I should think considerable violence had been used—I found no other marks.
Cross-examined by MR. HUMPHREYS. One severe blow might have caused all the injuries I saw.
Cross-examined by MR. HUMPHREYS. I was of opinion that he was not drunk, but that he had had something to drink.
Re-examined. I smelt his breath; there were no other signs—there was nothing to lead me to suppose he was at all incapable—he seemed to know what he was about when he made the charge.
The following Witnesses were called for Brice.
MARY COLLINS . I live at 9, Mayfield Buildings, the house Brice lives in—on Boxing-day I saw him on and off all day; at a quarter-past nine p.m. he was brought home intoxicated by Mr. Murphy, and laid on his bed in the back room, and his boots were taken off and put in the front room—there is no way out of that room into the street except by going through the front room—I did not go out after that, and all the evening I was in and out of the front and back rooms—I went to bed about two a.m.—Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Donoghue were there till half-past twelve.
Cross-examined. I have known Brice for seventeen years—I am out of a situation at present, and am staying with his mother—there was drinking on Christmas-day; I did not drink on Boxing-day—I was not drinking from seven to two that night.
MARGARET MURPHY . I am the wife of Patrick Murphy; we live at 6, Mayfield Buildings—I have known Brice for some time—on this night I was with his mother in their house—a little after nine my husband fetched Brice in the worse for drink, and took him into his bedroom, the back room—I stayed there till a quarter to twelve, and from a quarter-past nine till then Brice did not leave the house—my husband took his boots off, and left soon after.
MARGARET DONOGHUE . I live at 6, Mayfield Buildings—on Boxing-night I was sitting in Mrs. Brice's place, and about nine o'clock Brice was brought in the worse for drink, and laid on the bed by Mr. Murphy—I stayed there till a quarter-past twelve; I saw him fast asleep in the back room then—he never left the house between a quarter past nine and a quarter past twelve, but laid there sound asleep.
Cross-examined. I and Mrs. Murphy fetched a quartern of whisky from the Crown; we were there a few minutes, and when we left Mrs. Murphy remarked it was a quarter to ten—we had a drop of ale brought in.
NOT GUILTY .
GIBBS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted.
GEORGE MCFADDEN (323 E). At two a.m. on 15th January I was in Tavistock Place, and saw the prisoners standing at the corner of Little Coram Street—seeing me, they moved away towards Burton Crescent—I saw them again at 2.30, at the same spot—I went round Woburn Place and Little Coram Street again, and coming to 9, Coram Street, the Prince of Wales beer-house, I noticed mud on the framework of the door, and that the fanlight was open—I pushed the door, and found it open—I heard someone inside say, "Sish! there is a Roger (meaning a policeman) outside"—I made signs for assistance; two constables came—I and Williams entered, and discovered both prisoners concealed in front of the bar—I asked them what they were doing there—the said, "We don't know"—I took White into custody, and Williams took Gibbs—I aroused the landlord—the prisoners were taken to the station and charged, and in reply, said, "Oh! all right"—a screw-driver and skeleton key were found on Gibbs.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not meet me as you were coming in at the door.
WILLIAM WILLIAMS (138 E). On 15th January I was in Woburn Place about half-past two a.m., on my way home, with another constable—at Coram Street I saw McFadden flashing his light—I went up, and entered the house with him—we found the prisoners secreted behind the partition of the bar—the landlord was aroused—we took the prisoners to the station—I found on Gibbs a screw-driver and a skeleton key.
MUNN PLEADED GUILTY .
He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in April, 1891— Fourteen Days' Hard Labour.
WHITE— Five Tears' Penal Servitude.
GIBBS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour ,
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted.
BARBARA PRICE . I am the wife of George William Price, painter, of 55, Spencer Street, Goswell Road—about five on the afternoon of 9th January I was in my kitchen and heard my street-door bang—I heard a knock, went up to the door, and saw a policeman there with Schofield—Schofield carried a clock, which was not mine—I found Debnam standing up behind my parlour door, and everything had been turned out in my room—about a quarter of an hour before this happened my little
girl had gone out, and had shut and tried the door, but before that I had found the street-door open.
Cross-examined by Debnam. I have lodgers, and they push the door to as they go out, and do not leave it open—there were no marks on the street-door—I did not see you near or touching my drawers; there were in them articles of value which were not gone—you were alone behind the door; I was alone.
EDWARD CHAPMAN . I am in the employment of the Telegraph Construction Company—on this night, about six o'clock, I was in Spencer Street, and I saw Schofield standing on the kerb, with a clock under his arm, and Debnam standing with his back to the railings—I looked at them, and Debnam asked me what I was looking at—I told him nothing in particular—he said, "If you are not off I shall hit you on the nose"—I told him to set to work—Schofield came up and said, "He will not hit you; leave us alone, and don't be watching us"—I walked to the end of the street, saw a constable, and gave him information.
Cross-examined by Debnam. I looked at you because I had suspicion—the street door was open, and you were a yard from it, at the corner of the railings—Schofield carried the clock openly; it was not concealed in any way.
HENRY SEAL (151 G). I was on duty, with another constable, about six o'clock, at the corner of St. John Street Road, on Saturday, 9th of January—Chapman made a communication, and I walked down the street and saw Schofield standing about two yards from the doorway of 55, Spencer Street, with a clock under his arm—I asked him where he got the clock from; he said, "What the h—has that to do with you?"—I took him into custody, and the other constable went into No. 55, and came out presently with Debnam, and the prisoners were taken to the station.
JAMES STEVENS (Inspector G). I was present when Debnam was searched at the station—a pocket-knife was found on him—I went to 55, Spencer Street, and opened the door three times with it, by lifting the latch.
Cross-examined by Debnam. It is an ordinary penknife, with the blade very much worn; I inserted it in the keyhole.
Debnam, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he met Schofield in a public-house, who brought the clock there; that they tried to pawn it, but failing in that, Schofield said there was a watchmaker named Harrison in Spencer Street who might buy it; that he mistook the house, the door was open, and he walked in, and then found out his mistake. Schofield said that what Debnam had said was correct.
Schofield called the following Witnesses.
JAMES SCHOFIELD . I am the prisoner's father—on the evening of the 9th January I met you with a Mrs. Clifford, and we went to the White Hart—Debnam came in—a man came in and offered you the clock and part of a sewing machine—you gave him 5s. for the clock—you asked me to wait for a few minutes while you went to see if you could get rid of it.
MRS. CLIFFORD. On the evening of 9th January I met you, and we
met your father and went to the White Hart-Debnam came in—a man came in with the clock and the top of a sewing machine—you asked him where he got it from, and he said the clock was his own, and he wanted to sell it—you gave him 5s. for it—you asked me to wait while you went out for a little time—it was not before six, but a little after.
The prisoners, in their defence, repeated in substance their former stats-
BARBARA PRICE (Reexamined). A Mr. Harrison lives in Spencer Street, but a great way down on the same side of the way—it is a shop with a great deal of jewellery in the window, and it was robbed three weeks ago.
DEBNAM then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1889, and SCHOFIELD** to one in April, 1889.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each. There was another indictment against the prisoners.
OLD COURT.—Friday, February 12th 1892.
Before Mr. Justice Day.
MR. WILSON Prosecuted.
EMILY SMITH . I am single—I have been living with the prisoner some time—on 2nd January I was in my sitting-room with the prisoner and my little girl—the prisoner got up from the side of the fireplace bolted the street-door and the yard-door, and got me by the throat and struck me at the back of the head with some instrument he got from the fireplace, and I do not remember anything after, that we had words in the morning early over a machine which he had brought a man to take out—he had not paid a farthing since we lived in the place, and I was afraid of all the things being taken; as it is, he has taken a lot of things out to save himself from going to prison.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. No one was in the house when you came home, between one and two—you have been drinking with Butler yourself, and were very glad for him to give you something to eat you went out and he came in—I did not pick up the tongs; I was washing the crockery—I did not hit at you with the tongs, and break them on your artificial leg—you did not catch me with a man in the house—I cannot tell you how my head was cut—I did not make a blow with the jug; you did not struggle to get it; it was not broken over my head—I did not go at you in the yard; you did not catch me by the breast, nor did I slip and cut my head on the chopper—you did not pick me up in the yard and carry me into the house.
ELLEN SMITH . I am the daughter of the last witness—on 2nd January I was in the sitting-room—the prisoner got hold of my mother and tried to strangle her; and then he got something from the tongs I think, and beat her about the head severely, and they fell to pieces I got over the wall, and I saw him hit her with the chopper head—I got over the wall to fetch Mrs. Blackmore my mother put the baby over the wall, he said, come back Nellie; come back, I won't harm you"—and I holloaed out, I shan't come
back"—four or five weeks before that he threatened to chop my head off.
Cross-examined. On this day, when you were coming home, you did not meet me with my sister going to fetch a quartern of rum—I never fetched in anything till you came in—I said at the Police-court I had fetched two pots of ale and a quartern of rum, but not before you came in; you had your share—I was just getting over the yard wall when I saw you strike my mother with the chopper—you struck her with the tongs severely in the kitchen, and in the sitting-room with the poker—you hit her with the poker twelve months ago, and broke it—you used poker, tongs, and chopper on this day—my mother was wiping the jug when you took her by the throat—I did not see her hit over the head with it—I went into the yard to look what the baby was doing—my mother was pouring with blood—I did not go for a policeman—four or five weeks ago you threatened me with the chopper—my mother was not upstairs with a sailor then; she was at Mrs. Blackmore's, and then she was going to do a day's washing to get some food—she only stopped out two nights when you threatened to chop my head off; she was frightened to go into the place.
EMILY BLACKMORE . I live at 4, Britain's Court, two doors from the prisoner's house—on 2nd January the girl came and I went through and looked over the wall and saw the prisoner and his wife; she was smothered with blood—I said, "What are you doing of?"—he said, "Mind your own business; I know what I am doing of"—I asked her to give me the child over the wall, and she did so, and I asked her to get over, but she was too far gone—she went across the yard to the prisoner, and put her arms round his neck, and he struck her with the chopper on the forehead; she fell, and he hit her again—I went and knocked at the door; he came and asked what I was doing, and just then she ran out, and Inspector Rose came up the court—she fell down insensible.
Cross-examined. When I asked her to come over the wall she said, "I am all right"—she laid hold of you; I saw the chopper behind your right leg—you did not take it out of her hand—she was not struck on the back of her head as she slipped—my husband went for the policeman—the girl did not see you strike her mother with the chopper; she was not in the yard at the time I saw you.
THOMAS ROSE (172 H). On this afternoon I was called to Britain's Court—I saw a woman there with a number of cuts on her head, and blood streaming down her face—I asked who did it; someone in the crowd said, "There is the man who did it"—I turned, and saw the prisoner standing with his back against the wall—as soon as I faced him he said, "There she is; I did it"—I took hold of his right hand, in which he had a stick—I thought he would strike me—I drew my truncheon and said, "If you hit me I will hit you"—he became quiet, and went with me a short distance, and then put his back against the wall and said, "I will not go any further except you get me a cab"—I blew my whistle, and 233 came to my assistance—the prisoner then went quietly to the station—I afterwards went back to the house, and saw this chopper lying in a pool of blood in the back yard—when I first got to the house the prisoner and prosecutrix were outside it.
Cross-examined. When I said, "Where is he?" you said, "Here I am"—I saw you raise your stick, and then I drew my truncheon—I
don't say you attempted to strike mo—the little girl fetched me—I had your stick taken from you—you refused to go till you got your stick, and you had it back, and then went a short distance—I did not know you were lame and wore an artificial leg till you were taken into custody.
JOSIAH PETTINGER (Inspector H). I had information directly after the prisoner was brought in, and I went to the house—I found it in great disorder; there was blood on the floor, the table, sewing-machine, and bed, and some blood was spread on the wall, where apparently the head of the woman had been, as if blood had spurted there—there was broken crockery on the floor, and the poker lay there in six pieces—in the back yard was blood, quite a teacup full was in a pool by a post—the poker was upstairs, at the foot of the bed, the tongs downstairs; I took possession of them—a constable took the woman to the hospital.
Cross-examined. The tongs were saturated with blood; there was no mark on the pieces of poker.
GABRIEL FARMER , M. B., M. R. C. S. I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—Emily Smith was brought in half-conscious; her hair was saturated with blood—on removing it I found eighteen wounds over the head and upper part of the face; twelve of them were of a serious nature, being deep, some of them down to the bone—one of them had divided one of the main arteries of the scalp behind, which accounted for the loss of blood—she was in a critical condition for three or four days—she was in the hospital from June 2nd to 22nd.
Cross-examined. I don't think it more probable that the wounds were inflicted by the pieces of crockery, which I saw at the Police-court, than by the breaking of the tongs over her head—some of the wounds might have been inflicted by this chopper—there is blood and hair on it—if the tongs were not made of good steel, or if there was a flaw in the steel, they might break over a person's head.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he found a man in the house drinking', and had some word's with his wife; that as he sat by the fire she aimed a blow at him with the poker, and broke it on his artificial leg; that she took up the jug to hit him; that he held her wrist, and she slipped, and the jug cut her on the front part of her head; that then she ran to the yard, and when he followed her she had the chopper, and took hold of his neck; that in struggling to get the chopper she slipped, and the chopper cut her head; that the whole affair only lasted ten minutes, and that the was completely drunk on this day and tried to strangle him.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, February 12th, 1892.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRAYSBROOK Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
STEPHEN EVANS . I am a retired merchant and J. P. for the County of Cardigan—I live at 6, Wickham Gardens, Brockley—on Monday afternoon, 25th January, I was at the corner of the Union Bank, opposite the Mansion House, just crossing cautiously to the Globe to catch a London Bridge omnibus, as there was a good deal of traffic—I was surrounded by three or four young men, and hustled and pushed in a
very peculiar manner in the middle of the road—I said to them, "You need not be afraid, nothing will hurt you"—I got loose, and just as I got to the Globe I saw my watch-chain hanging down, and found my watch had been stolen—I went home, and the next morning I was in the City again, and went to the Mansion House—I was going to give information, and a person spoke to me—after that I went to the Police-court, and then to the station, and gave information—my watch was worth about £20.
Cross-examined. This was about 4.30 p.m.—there was a line of omnibuses in front of the Mansion House—my watch was safe not five minutes before—I had taken a Liverpool Street omnibus instead of a London Bridge one, and I got out at St. Paul's, leaving several people in it—the ring of my watch was broken, not the swivel—I felt no tug as I was hustled, nor did I hear anything, it was very cleverly done—my coat was open or they could not have done it.
FRANK MURRILL (641 City). On Monday, 25th January, about 4.10 p.m., I was in the road at the Mansion House, directing the traffic, and saw Mr. Evans in the centre of the road—the two prisoners and a man not in custody hustled him—I drew the attention of my Sergeant, Blean to them—we moved towards them, and they separated and ran in our direction, one in the road and the other in the footway—they met again just by the west gate of the Mansion House, and got on top of an omnibus—the third man ran in another direction—the sergeant went round in front and up the ladder at the back, following the prisoners; I went to the near side and Byron jumped from the driver's seat into the road and ran away; I called, "Stop thief!" and pursued him up the Poultry, and saw Perry arrest him—the prisoners were both sent to the station together—I was there when the charge was read; Hercombe said, "You can't charge me with stealing, for he had nothing in his pocket"—next morning I was on duty at the same place and saw Mr. Evans; I recognised him before he spoke to me; he complained of his loss, and accompanied me to the station—I never lost sight of the prisoners.
Cross-examined. I went to try and find Mr. Evans when the prisoners were being taken to the station; and when I got there they had been there five or ten minutes, the charge had then been taken down; I was there when it was read—it was, "Being concerned with a man, not in custody, in attempting to pick a pocket"; and then Hercombe made that observation—after we found Mr. Evans they were charged with stealing his watch.
SAMUEL BLEAN (City Police Sergeant). I was with Murrill at the Mansion House, and saw Mr. Evans surrounded by three men—the prisoners are two of them; Byron was on his right and Hercombe on his left, and the third man in front—I saw Byron's arm under Mr. Evans's inverness cape; they appeared to push him one against the other; he 'was what we term blocked—they separated, and the prisoners came towards the Mansion House—I called another constable, and lost sight of them for a moment, and looked up and saw them on top of an omnibus which was just about to leave the Mansion House—I went up the steps, and one of them said, "He is coming"—Byron got off the seat and over the driver's seat, and jumped into the carriage-way—I called "Stop thief!" and brought Hercombe off the omnibus, handed him over to another constable, and went to look for Mr. Evans—I did not see him till next morning—I have no doubt the prisoners are the men.
Cross-examined. Mr. Evans and the men hustling him were about thirty yards from me—Murrill drew my attention to them, and I saw Byron's hand under Mr. Evans's cape in the right rear.
MARSHALL PERRY (City Policeman). On January 25th I was on duty at the corner of the Poultry, and saw Byron running, and heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I pursued him up the Poultry; he was dodging between the traffic—I took him by Hope Brothers' shop and took him back—he was charged at the station with attempting to steal, and said, "All right."
Cross-examined. When I got hold of him he said, "What's up?"—I said, "I will let you know presently"—I took him towards the Mansion House and met Sergeant Lee, who said, "Conduct him to the station; I will follow on"—we followed immediately behind Hercombe—the prisoners were told that they would be charged with attempting to steal from a person unknown—Byron said, M We nave got nothing on us"—when the charge was taken they both said, "All right," and Byron said, "You can't charge us with attempting to steal from a person unknown, because he had nothing in his pocket"—I did not hear Hercombe say that.
They then PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, HERCOMBE** at Clerkenwell, on 16th December, 1889, in the name of Robert Mathews, and BYRON** on 20th May, 1889, in the name of George Robinson.— Three Years' each in Penal Servitude.
The GRAND JURY made a presentment commending the conduct of the police, in which the COURT concurred.
MARSH PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. P. FULTON and MR. AVORY Prosecuted,"
LOUIS WALKLEY . I am a clerk in the pension branch of the Admiralty—on 3rd February, 1891, a pension was granted to George James Marsh, of 50, High Street, Poplar, on the usual petition, which was accompanied by this letter, which was signed "Thomas De Mouleynes, M. D.," addressed from Tait Road, Silvertown. (This certified that the bearer, George Marsh, had been under his charge for epilepsy)—the pension would be forwarded once a quarter—it is necessary for the pensioner to send a life certificate to the Admiralty—we sent him the form in blank, and he returned it filled up, signed by a Minister of religion or a Magistrate, upon which we forward a post-office order for the amount, and when the pensioner, applies for it at the post-office he has to produce a certificate of his identity with the person named, which we also forward to him—a post-office order was forwarded in March and October for £2 8s.—on 4th December I received this life certificate, purporting to be filled up by Marsh, and to be certified by Michael D. Lines, Acting-Chaplain of the Poplar Sick Asylum—it certifies that he has seen Marsh—upon that the money order for £1 4s. 8d. was sent on January 4th, and it purports to be signed and receipted by George James Marsh—it is necessary for the pensioner to attend personally at the post-office, unless excused by medical certificate.
Poplar Union, of which the prisoner De Mouleynes has been an inmate for two or three years, on and off, weeks in and weeks out—I know Marsh as George Campbell; he was an inmate of the Union in the same way from the commencement of 1890, down to 16th December, 1891 when an order was received to remove him to Scotland, which was done—I have seen several of De Mouleynes' letters to the Guardians, and should say that these documents are in his writing.
Cross-examined by De Mouleynes. I cannot say whether this life certificate is your writing.
REV. MICHAEL DAVEY LINES . I was Chaplain of the Poplar and Stepney Sick Asylum in October and November last—De Mouleynes was an inmate part of that time—on 28th December he asked me to write a letter to try and get him work in the docks, and I wrote the superintendent this letter (produced) and handed it to him—this is not my signature on this life certificate, nor did I authorise anybody to sign it—I did not see Marsh that day—it appears to be an imitation of my signature.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether I closed the envelope or gave you the letter open.
CHARLES JOHN GILBERT . I keep a post-office at 229, High Street, Poplar—on January 6th De Mouleynes came with this Admiralty order for £1 4s. 8d., with the identity certificate of G. J. Marsh annexed—that is the person named in my letter of advice—I requested him to call next day, because the advice had not been received—he called at five o'clock next day, and presented the order and certificate again—I asked him to sign the Admiralty order, and he signed it George James Marsh—I stamped the certificate, and gave him £1 4s. 8d.
Cross-examined. I did not ask you any questions.
CHARLES LITSON . I am a tobacconist, of 50, High Street, Poplar—I know both prisoners as customers—I have been in the habit of receiving letters for Marsh for the last fifteen months—I remember one coming for him last October; I gave it to one of the messengers of the workhouse to give to Marsh—after that I had a conversation with De Mouleynes about it; he told me he was going to meet Marsh coming up from Scotland—lie went away from the shop and returned in the evening, and said it was all right, Marsh had gone to his brother; he said nothing about money to me—Marsh has spoken to me about a pension—I have not received letters from Marsh instructing me to give up his letters to the bearer perhaps my mistress has.
Cross-examined. You asked me before the Magistrate whether I ever received any letter from Marsh; I said I never did, only they came backwards and forwards about his pension—he asked me to let him have letters addressed to my shop, because he did not want them to go to the Union—there were sometimes about three ordinary letters before one of the large envelopes came—I received no instructions from Marsh to give you any letters.
SARAH ANN LITSON . I am the wife of the last witness—I know both the prisoners as customers, and have received letters for both of them—I was present when Marsh first made the arrangement with my husband about receiving letters—after that letters came addressed to him, I gave them to the messenger to take to De Mouleynes—I took in letters for both prisoners; they said they were trying for a pension—I received a
Government letter in October, addressed to one of them, I gave it to the messenger—four or five days after that De Mouleynes came and said he, bad had a letter from Marsh, and he was coming from Scotland; he said, "I have sent him 30s."; and he left £1 12s. with me to take care of, which I afterwards returned to him, and he said Marsh was coming from Inverness, and he was going to meet him—he came later in the day and said he had met Marsh, who had gone to his brother's—the last letter I received for Marsh was on January 5th, I handed that to the messenger—I received this letter from Turner before January, "Mr. Litson, would you kindly keep one letter from the Admiralty at your house; it is a Government letter. Yours truly, GEORGE MARSH. "
Cross-examined. You used to come into my shop and read the letters to me, and tell me you were authorised to fetch them—I did not give Marsh's letters to Turner, you sent a note by Turner every time you wanted letters.
SAMUEL TURNER . I am an inmate of Poplar Workhouse, and know the prisoners—I have been to Mr. Litson's shop to fetch tobacco, and De Mouleynes asked me if there were any letters for him—I said, "Yes, but they will not let me have them without your writing"—he gave me a piece of paper like this (produced), but I cannot read—I took it to Mrs. Litson, who gave me a long letter in a blue envelope; I gave it to De Mouleynes—it was like this. (This was found on De Mouleynes, and addressed, J. Marsh, 50, High Street, Poplar).
WALTER BREED (Detective Sergeant K). On 7th January, about five o'clock, I saw De Mouleynes leaving 289, High Street, Poplar, a post-office upon which I was keeping observation—I followed him and said, "What are you doing?" he was about to hand something to a man with him, who I do not know, and said, "I am going to show this man sixpence"—I asked him his name; he said, "De Mouleynes"—I said, "You have just drawn this money from the post-office, there is something wrong about it"—I took a sovereign and twopence out of Mi hand, and said, "You will have to go to the Limehouse Police-station M—he said, "All right"—I took him there, and he was charged with personating Marsh—he said he was M. D., and gave his address at St. James' Terrace, High Street, Poplar, which is a common lodging-house—I found on him a letter signed, "Michael D. Lines," this blue envelope, addressed to Marsh, and a white envelope.
WILLIAM KRANC JOKES . I am a dock labourer, and have occupied 1, Tate Road, Silvertown, for the last eighteen months—I have known Be Mouleynes since about July, 1890; I am secretary of a branch lodge of the Dockers' Union, of which he was a member some time—I have,. not known him to work in the docks, but I have seen him standing outside the gates—he came to me for relief very often, and I think he drew strike pay when there was a strike—I only knew him by his own statement as a doctor of medicine—he never lived in Tate Road, no one of that name ever lived there.
KENNETH MCPHERSON (Police Sergeant of Inverness). On October 13th I searched Marsh, and found these three letters and other documents. (These letters were partly read; they were all from De Mouleynes to Marsh, directing him to take his passage from Aberdeen to Wapping; and one of them stated: I send the money in the name of George Campbell; sign the order George Campbell")
Cross-examined. This letter of January 5th was in your pocket.
WALTER BREED (Re-examined). I found this letter on Marsh, in an envelope, addressed "Mr. George J. Marsh, Post-office, Market Street, Aberdeen, Scotland, to be left till called for": "January 5th, 1892. My dear George,—You remember in my last letter I spoke about a man helping me in getting your pension. I told him to get a post-office order for £1 and send on to you. I wrote the letter, and he told me to send you only five shillings, in case you might not get it, and I did so. We had several points, and when I asked him for the balance of the money he said, 'Is it yours?'*** I tried to get it from him, but he said he would make it worse for me, as the detectives were on him, and I was likely to be apprehended for fraud, etc. You can say you were in London, and asked him to receive the pension. All I am fearing is that the authorities find out you were receiving a pension while you were receiving relief, etc.—Yours, TOM. ")
De Mouleynes' statement before the Magistrate: "I wrote a letter, produced, which has been received by Mr. Litson, from Marsh, at Inverness, directing him to send letters to me."
De Mouleynes handed in a written defence, stating that he had acted through, out under Marsh's instructions, who told him to sign his name to the money order, and had his papers ready to send to him in Scotland, but was suddenly arrested; and that he had prescribed for Marsh on several occasions.
DE MOULEYNES GUILTY — Twelve Months Hard Labour.
MARSH— To enter into recognisances to come up for judgment if called upon.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.
The prisoner received a good character.
— NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, January 12th, 1892.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted.
JOHN NOBLE . I am a retired civil engineer, of 116, Grosvenor Park, Camberwell—on 25th January, a little after five, I was in the King's Road, and saw the two prisoners and three other men, who shammed that they were drunk—the prisoners closed on me, got hold of my arms, and clung round me, and the others followed up—they pulled me about, and then struck me over the eye and in the ribs, which are sore now, and pulled at my watch, but did not get it off the chain—my head is not well; it is marked, and my body is not well—I called out "Police! and as soon as the men saw a constable coming they ran; the prisoner; ran into a public-house, and out at another door in the next street, and I
saw them go into the next house—I only lost sight of them from the time they went in at one door to the time they came out at the other—a policeman went into the house after them, and then Fell came out and said to me, "I did not hit you, did I, Sir?"—I said, "We will see about that"—he said, "I am going to run for it"—he ran up the street, and I after him, as well as I could, calling "Stop thief!" but no one stopped him—the constable came out with Walsh, who was taken to the station.
Cross-examined by Walsh. I struck you with my umbrella when you got my watch out—I did not run into you.
Cross-examined by Fell. The constable was in the house when you came out; he was upstairs, not in the doorway—he did not say he did not want you, he wanted Walsh.
GEORGE STIGGLE (506 B). On 25th January I was off duty in King's Road, Chelsea—the prosecutor made a communication to me, and pointed across the road, where the prisoners were—I followed them; they ran through a public-house as soon as they saw me; in at one door, and out at another, into Sladburn Street; they ran a little way up the street, and then walked and entered No. 16; I knocked at the door, and asked where the lads went to that had just come in—I was told they had gone upstairs—I went up, and found Walsh on the first landing—I told him he would be charged with attempted robbery and assault; he made no reply; he pretended to be drunk; he was not drunk—he became so violent I had to get assistance to get him off the staircase—eventually he was taken to the station—I did not see Fell there then—afterwards I searched Walsh and found two pawntickets on him; he gave an address—when charged he said, "I have never been charged with stealing before"—about a quarter to ten the same evening Fell came to the station—I had been to the address Walsh gave and made a communication to a woman—the prosecutor's under lip was cut inside, and he had a cut over Ids left eye, and two top buttons of his overcoat were undone.
Cross-examined by Walsh. You did not ask me to send for a doctor to examine you as to you being drunk.
Cross-examined by Fell. There was no light in the house; I did not see you on the stairs—you did not say, "Do you want me?" nor did I say, « No, I want Walsh."
HENRY TIDBURY (Sergeant 21 B). On 25th January I was acting inspector at Chelsea Police-station—about half-past nine Fell came in drunk—he said, "I hear you have Michael Walsh here; I also hear you want me on a charge of robbing an old gentleman"—he was placed in. a room by himself and Stiggle was sent for and said, "This is the second man the prosecutor pointed out to me"—I read the charge to him and he said, "It is a mistake; the old gentleman ran into me. I did not try to get his watch, and if he had wanted me why did not the policeman take me when I was coming down the street? when I got outside I saw the old gentlemen again, and he started to run after me; I ran down Edith drove"—I was at the station when Walsh was brought in—the prosecutor had a severe blow over his left eye, and his under lip was cut through in Walsh's hearing he said, "They tried hard to get my watch, which I value at £11; there were four of them altogether, two in front and two behind; the two behind did not hit me"—Walsh said, "Oh, I D 2
have never been charged with stealing before"—on Fell three coppers and a pawnticket were found—both prisoners lodge at the same house—the prosecutor was sober, but appeared very much shaken with the blow he had received.
Cross-examined by Walsh. You were not sober when you were brought to the station—you did not ask me to send for a doctor.
Walsh, in his defence, said he was very drunk, and that the prosecutor hit him over the head with his umbrella before he did anything.
FELL then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in October, 1891.— Eighteen Months Hard Labour.
WALSH†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted.
EDMUND PLOWRIGHT . I am a boot manufacturer, of 47, Brunswick Street, Hackney Road—on Tuesday, 26th January, about midnight, I closed my premises and made them secure—next morning I was aroused about half-past five, and I came downstairs and found the place open back and front—the shop had been ransacked—I went up, dressed myself, and gave information to the police—I missed kid and mock-kid skins—I afterwards saw them at the station, and identified them.
RICHARD NURSEY (Police Sergeant). On Friday afternoon, 29th, about a quarter to four, I saw the prisoner enter No. 39, Marlborough Road, Dalston—he had a large bundle of leather, which was afterwards produced and identified at the Police-court—I said, "We are police-officers; we want to know where you got this leather from?"—he said, "I bought it from a man I don't know."
ALBERT WING . I live at 39, Marlborough Road, Dalston, and am a manufacturer—on Friday, 29th January, between twelve and two, the prisoner came to me and brought me a sample of mock skins, and asked me if I would buy them—I said, "Yes, leave the sample"—he offered to sell them at ten shillings a dozen—he went to get the bulk—I communicated with the police, who took him into custody when he came back.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that a gentleman had asked him to sell the goods for him.
GUILTY of receiving.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1889. A Warder stated that the prisoner hid not been out of prison for more than six months at one time for the last twenty-five years.— Ten Years' Panel Servitude.
GOODHEW and RUST PLEADED GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. STEPHENSON Prosecuted.
oblige him with a pony and van—I said, "Who is it for?"—he said, "Myself"—I told him I did not know whether there was one in, and at the same time my boy drove up.
HENRY TRATT . I am a son of the last witness—on January 29th, in consequence of orders given to me, I took the van into the street, where Rapp and Rust were talking together—Rust got in and pointed out the way, and Rapp walked by the side—we went to Mr. Wade's, which took us five or ten minutes—I did not see Rapp after we got to the top of the street; I did not see him near Mr. Wade's—at Wade's Goodhew put three barrels of oil on the van—Mr. Hurst, the manager, came up and asked the man where he was going, and he said, "Over the water; the other side the water"—Goodhew said, before Mr. Hurst came up, "Drive away; get away as quick as you can"—Mr. Hurst stopped him.
GEORGE LENION . I am employed by Messrs. Wade and Co.—Goodhew was my fellow-workman—on 29th January he asked me to assist him in loading a van with two barrels; I did so—I said there was no address on the barrels; he made no reply—Rust was there—he said the barrels were going over the other side the water—I have seen Goodhew and Rapp together on several occasions—that was not in a public-house.
CALEB CARTER (Inspector K). When Rapp was brought to the station he said, "I admit going to Tratt's this morning, and getting a van to do a job for a man I don't know; I don't know what it was for"—they live within twenty yards of each other.
RAPP— NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROACH Prosecuted.
RICHARD STOLLARD . I live at 58, White Horse Street, Stepney, and am a coffee-house keeper—between eight and nine on Wednesday, 6th January, I was coming through Baker's Row—I came out of a fish shop, where I had some fish, and stood there, and all of a sudden the prisoner came up and struck me a blow in the stomach, and laid hold of my throat and threw me down—I recollect no more—I was unconscious for very nearly half-an hour I lost my watch, chain, and £1 15s., and I was knocked about—several others were with the prisoner—I informed the police—it is dark there on the left-hand side; there is a dead wall—there are no lamps there—I am perfectly sure the prisoner is the man—I. was sober.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I had not been in a public-house before going to the fish shop, nor had I been in one that day.
SIDNEY KENDAL (Police-constable). On this Friday morning I received a description of a man, and on Saturday night, about half past nine, I saw the prisoner in Baker's Row, and told him I was going to take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with four other men not in custody in assaulting and robbing a man in Baker's Row on Thursday night—he said, "Oh, if that is the night, I was at the hospital"—I had made a mistake in the night; I afterwards saw by the book it was
Wednesday—he was taken to the station, placed among other men, and immediately picked out by the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. I found no property on you.
The prisoner called the following witnesses.
SAMUEL THORNTON . On Wednesday night, 6th January, you were in the beershop with me from six o'clock till eleven; we only left once or twice to go to the urinal round the corner during that time, but it was not at the time that this affair happened—we were playing dominoes—the prosecutor came into the public-house drunk, with three gentlemen—the landlord refused to serve him, and he said they would go somewhere else—they were three compartments off us—I got up and looked over.
Cross-examined. Four of us were playing; one was a witness, who is outside, and another was a stranger whom I have not seen since—we all played the same game—I did not lose sight of the prisoner from half-past six till a little after eleven—he was my partner—I have been at Worship Street for being drunk, and I have been fined £1 for assault—I am sure the prosecutor was drunk—I heard him say he was a member of a temperance club.
THOMAS COLE . I was in the Shakespeare's Arms on 6th January, playing dominoes with you—between eight and nine o'clock three men came in with the prosecutor, and the landlord refused to serve them—afterwards other people came in, and I heard them say the man had lost his watch; you were in the house at the time—you did not move out when it was' said the man had lost his watch—you stayed there till eleven or past—the prosecutor was most certainly drunk.
Cross-examined. I am a labourer, a handy chap—four of us were playing together—a stranger was my partner, I have not seen him since—we played from 6.30 to 11, going out sometimes to the urinal—we did not all go out together—the prisoner never moved out of the room at all according to my knowledge.
CHARLES ROBINSON . On this night I was in this public-house from early in the evening till late at night—you were playing dominoes during part of the time—I saw the prosecutor come in, with three other men, in a very excited state; he called for a pot of ale for his friends, and the landlord said he had better have soda water; the prosecutor put himself in a fighting attitude, and said, "Let us have a couple of rounds"—the landlord said, "Have your rounds outside"; and his friends tried to get him outside, and directly afterwards he came inside and said he had lost his watch, and the landlord told him to go and find it, and turned him out again—I did not see you move out of the public-house during that time; I think you lumped on a form and looked over at what was going on on the other side—I should certainly say the prosecutor was very drunk; he was in a most excited state.
Cross-examined. The landlord is not here—I live at a common lodging-house—I took no part in the game of dominoes—I know nothing of the prisoner except by having seen him in the public-house several times.
SIDNEY KENDAL (Re-examined). I believe the landlord of the Shakespeare's Arms had absconded because of the Excise officers—a constable patrols Baker's Row, and has 300 yards to patrol—the prosecutor said he remembered nothing after he was attacked; he felt as if he had been drugged; he did not know where he went to after it happened—he went
home first and then came to the station; he was perfectly sober when he came there, I have ascertained—he was found in a bye-street, and not in the main Bauer's Row.
The prisoner, in his defence, argued that the prosecutor could not have remained unconscious in the street for three-quarters of an hour.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in February, 1887.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GAMBLE . I am a greengrocer, of 11A, Workal Street, Hoxton—on 29th January I locked up my shop at ten o'clock and left it safely locked up at twelve—there is a side parlour to it, and I go through that into the next house, where I live—when I came down next morning at six o'clock all the place was emptied out, and the parrot cage was standing in the centre of the floor, empty; the door of the linnet's cage was knocked in, and another bird was dead—I also lost two clocks, a silver chain, and about £1 in silver, and some coppers.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have only recovered the parrot.
ALFRED NEWMARSH . I live with my mother, who owns the business at 23, Hoxton Square—on 29th January the prisoner brought a parrot in this bag, and said, "Do you want to buy a parrot?"—I said, "What sort of parrot is it?"—he said, "A green one; I caught it this morning; it bit my finger"—I said, "That is nothing; what sort is it? I cannot see it in the bag"—I said I would go to fetch a cage; and my mother nodded to me to go to the police-station; I did so, and the police came.
Cross-examined. You did not say two chaps going along with a barrow gave it to you.
JOHN SCOTT (Constable G). I came to the bird-shop and arrested the prisoner, who had a parrot—I said, "Is this your bird?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "How do you account for the possession of it?"—he said, "A man, whose name I don't know, gave it to me to sell this morning; he said he had caught it"—I told him I should take him into custody for stealing and receiving it—the prosecutor identified it at the station.
The prisoner, its his defence, said he met two men with a barrow who said they had caught the parrot and sold it to him.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1889.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted.
PETER MUNRO (397 K). At twenty minutes past six a.m. on 25th January I heard a noise at St. Stephen's Church, Tredegar Road, and went to see what was the matter; the door was slammed in my face, and then the prisoner opened it and rushed out of the door—I chased him, and after getting over two walls caught him, and brought him to Bow Police-station, where he was charged with breaking into the church—he said,
"I was only going into Billingsgate Market, and the constable stopped mo, at the rate of two miles an hour."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were not walking along the street; I arrested you as you dropped over the wall—I told the inspector I saw you come out of the church—there were other doors to come out of than the one I was at.
HENRY SIMMONS (Inspector K). At 6.30 a.m. on 25th the prisoner was brought to the station and charged—I went to the church and found entry had been effected by forcing the vestry door with some instrument—I found this jemmy lying by the vestry fire-place; it corresponded with the marks on the door—this piece of paper, with a round hole through it, us though a jemmy had been drawn out of it, and this piece of wood, which could be used as a lever, were found on the prisoner—I examined the church door again and found four distinct impressions of this piece of wood—there was a lot of plate in the church.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that the piece of wood was used to put between the spring and axle of his barrow.
— GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour.
292. DAVID MAURICE PLEADED GUILTY that he, being a trader, within four months of a bankruptcy petition against him, unlawfully pawned and disposed of bracelets obtained on credit and not paid for, and to other Counts for other offences under the Bankruptcy Act.
MR. MATHEWS, in stating the facts for the prosecution, said that as the fake impression had been spread by the decision in Meg. v. Imperiali (Sessions Paper, Vol. cxiv., page 849) that it was not illegal for jewellers to immediately pawn goods obtained from manufacturers, he hoped that the present case would correct such an erroneous view. MR. GRAIN, for the prisoner, agreed that the ruling in R. v. Imperiali was wrong. MR. COMMISSIONER KERR concurred in this view.— Discharged on recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, February 13th, 1892.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ROGERS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. ABINGER Prosecuted.
FRANCES TAYLOR . I am married—on 30th January I rode in an omnibus from St. Paul's to the Lyceum—I paid my fare when I got in, paving in loose money—in my dress pocket I had a purse containing a half-sovereign and ten shillings in silver—I last saw it at a restaurant in Cheapside, when I paid for my tea—I sat on the right-hand side of the bus—some time after I got in the prisoners got in, one following the other—Bernstein sat next to me on my pocket side, and Rogers next to him—I was in the last seat, next the door—Bernstein leant forward on the seat, and played and drummed with his hands in front of him; Rogers leant towards me—I felt a hand near my pocket, and watched Bernstein's hands—I put my hand to my pocket, and felt my purse was there—at the Lyceum I was going to got out, and the conductor said, "Have you lost anything? put your hand in your pocket"—I did so, and found my purse was gone; it was not a minute or two after I had felt it there—I took
hold of one of the prisoners, and said, "You have got my purse"—he said, "You saw my hands in front of me"—I held him—one of the prisoners gave me a punch to get out past me—Mr. Marsh stopped him—some gentleman said my purse was on the floor, and it was under Rogers' feet—I picked up two purses; the one not mine I gave to the constable—the money was out of my purse on the floor; I did not find the half-sovereign; a crown-piece in the purse might have caused it to fly open.
JOHN BROWN MARSH . I am on the reporting staff of a London daily paper—I was in this omnibus, sitting opposite to the prosecutrix—Bernstein sat on her pocket side, and was poising himself on the very edge of the seat, and drumming with his. hands on his knees; Rogers was sitting on his right hand, and pretended to be asleep, and leant very much behind Bernstein—I saw his left shoulder working, and watched him; we were then stopping at Wellington Street—I was sitting opposite to Rogers—when we were opposite the Lyceum the lady jumped up, and said, "I have lost my purse," and she turned to Bernstein and said, "You have got it"—he replied, "Why, you saw my hands!" and he appealed to the others in the omnibus—she said to Rogers, "You have it!"—Bernstein jumped up, and pushed against her to try and get out—I sprang up and collared him, and forced him back on the seat, and put my knees against Rogers, and prevented his getting up—I told the conductor to call a policeman—one of the prisoners said, "The purse is on the floor M—two purses were picked up from the floor, one at the foot of each prisoner—the lady said of the purse which was at Rogers' feet, "That is mine, but the money is gone"—the police came, and took the prisoners.
FREDERICK WATTS . I am an omnibus conductor—on this evening Mrs. Taylor got in at the top of Ludgate Hill; the prisoners got in at Ludgate Circus together—Bernstein sat with his hands on his knees next the lady, and the other prisoner sat next him, leaning back—Rogers' left hand was behind Bernstein; he seemed to be drowsy—I was running up and down to the top—at the Lyceum the lady was getting up, and so was Bernstein—I asked the lady to feel in her pocket and see if she had lost anything, and she said, "Yes, I have lost my purse; I had it not a minute ago"—Bernstein tried to get away; I did not see-him, but the lady said she did—a constable was brought—each of the prisoners paid his own fare.
CHARLES BYFIELD (190 E). I was called by Watts—I was told the charge, and repeated it to the prisoners—Bernstein said, "You can see I did not take it, because I had got my hands in front of me"—Rogers said nothing—I found 2s. 10 1/2 d. on Rogers and $d. on Bernstein—Bern-stein said he was a perfect stranger to Rogers, and had never seen him Wore; he gave his true address.
JOHN ROGERS (the prisoner). I am eighteen—I was at a tailor's for four years; I last worked six months ago—I have pleaded guilty to this charge—I have known Bernstein about a fortnight—on this day I met him down Aldgate way, and we were out all day long—we got in this omnibus for the purpose of taking the purse—I had a conversation with Bernstein about it—we were to go halves in the contents.
Bernstein's statement before the Magistrate: "I don't know Rogers at all."
BERNSTEIN GUILTY **— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ABINGER asked the COMMON SERJEANT to deal leniently with ROGERS, as it was believed Bernstein had led him away.— Discharged on recognisances.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, and MR. WILLS Defended.
JOHN STOCK . I am parish clerk of Wapping—I found the register of marriages at the parish church—on 15th December, 1880, I was present at a marriage of which I have this entry, "December 15th, 1880, George Roe, 20, bachelor, to Ada Agnes Emma Hugh, spinster"—although I do not identify the lady, I know she was rather deaf—the witnesses were John S. Galilee and myself.
EDWARD BURDON (Detective Sergeant K). On 23rd December I went to 34, Burdett Road, late in the evening, with Mr. Wescott and Mr. Roe, who has been here up to to-day, he was at the Police-court—I showed him to the prisoner, who was in the back room, first-floor, fully dressed except her hat—I said, "I am a police-officer, and have come to arrest you for contracting a bigamous marriage with a Mr. Wescott; is this your husband?"—she said, "Yes," and went to embrace him, and said, "Oh, Fred, did you do this?" he stepped back and said, "I have nothing to do with it"—I said, "Is this your husband?"—she said, "Yes, I thought he had been dead eight or nine years"—Wescott came in and I said, "Is this the woman you wish to charge?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "She has recognised Mr. Roe as her husband"—he said, "I am going to charge her"—she was living in her mother's house.
Cross-examined. There was no warrant—Wescott came to me about five on Saturday evening the 23rd, and I went to the house about 11.45—I do not know whether she was in bed; her mother said we could not see her that night—we did not wait downstairs till she dressed—we were not in the house above three or four minutes.
WALTER EDWIN WESCOTT . I am a schoolmaster, of Leytonstone, in the employ of the London School Board—I first met the prisoner about 1883; she was on friendly terms with a friend of mine at the next house, who introduced her as Miss Galilee, and I saw her there about once every three weeks up to 1886, when Mrs. Galilee and her daughter moved away to 34, Old Kent Road, but in December, 1886, they moved back to Blundoll Road—while at the New Kent Road, I saw her once at Mr. Kettle's, when she paid him a visit, but I never went to the New Kent Road—at Whitsuntide, 1886, she informed me that she had been married, that her husband had left her and taken her child, and that she had heard he had committed suicide in the police-cells at Manchester, and that her name was Roe—about a month after that I wrote to Mrs. Galilee asking her permission to marry her daughter—this is my letter. (Dated May 6th, 1886)—up to that time I had not seen a man named
Strauss—up to my marriage I had not seen any child—I married the prisoner in January, 1887—she is described as a widow in this certificate (Read)—after the marriage I lived with her for three and a half years at her mother's house, till the middle of 1890, when we moved to Coburg Road, Bow—I had been introduced to ft little girl as her cousin at Mrs. Crittle's house, who has been posing as the mother of the child up to now—I left the prisoner about throe days after New Year's Day this year—up to that time I had seen Strauss twice—I first saw Roe on 21st January, and the prisoner was arrested on the 23rd—I saw Weatherhead the next day; he is the eon by Mrs. Weatherhead's second husband, and Hoe's half-brother—Roe went with me, at my request, to the prisoner's mother's house—I was not in the room when he first spoke to her—I had no actual proof that Hoe was alive till I got to Crystal Palace Road.
Cross-examined. The prisoner first told me that she had been previously married at the beginning of 1886; that was before I wrote the letter of May 6th—she did not tell me how long she lived with her husband; she said she had been very unhappy with him, and that he had committed suicide, and the mother showed me some newspaper cuttings—I cannot swear to these cuttings (produced); I was shown a letter purporting to come from Hoe's mother stating that her son was dead—I cannot say whether this is the letter—she did not tell me that she had made inquiries at Scotland Yard—from May 6th, when I wrote the letter, I had it in my mind that she was a widow, and made no inquiries—I did not ask for a death certificate; I accepted the letter that I was shown and their statements—on 11th January, 1892, I consulted a solicitor, Mr. Ricketts, and instructed him to write to the prisoner with reference to a separation, and there was a correspondence between him and Mr. Stewart, a solicitor—I was willing to allow her fifteen shillings a week pro tem.—she wanted the custody of my child by her, but I refused—I have the child now—I began to make inquiries about Hoe as soon as I left the prisoner, but I had made them weeks and months before—I first began to make inquiries about Roe after I had actual proof that she had given birth to a bastard child by straus—that was on January 11, 1892, after I left her house; I did not leave in consequence of knowing that Roe was alive; I was nearly a fortnight endeavouring to find him, and found him on the Wednesday or Thursday before the arrest—I told the solicitor the next morning—I first went to the police on Saturday, at three o'clock, and I called at six, and the inspector could not go with me, and I brought Roe there in person, and we went to Crystal Palace Road, and the prisoner was given in custody about twelve o'clock at night.
Re-examined. My inquiries were directed to Strauss first, and I obtained this certificate (produced) as to him—I found at Somerset House that the "Roe who committed suicide was 50 years of age; more than twice the age—I did not know Roe by sight; we passed Venables on a tram-car, and it struck me that the prisoner's mother had told me, years ago, that Roe was employed there; I made inquiries there, and that led me to Crystal Palace Road—from the moment I went to Venables' I had no difficulty in finding Roe—no offer of assistance was made after I found that the prisoner had committed bigamy—it is my wish to maintain the child—Roe was in Court when the prisoner was charged before the Magistrate.
By MR. WELLS. I do not know that Roe was going to be married last Tuesday week, nor did I tell the prisoner's brother so.
ALFRED HENRY WEATHERHEAD . I five with my mother at 255, Crystal Palace Road—Roe, who I saw at the Police-court is my half-brother; my mother married twice, and had a family by each husband—I Am twenty-six years old—I was living at home when my brother married the prisoner—I visited them after their marriage; they lived as husband and wife—he was at Venables' before he was married, and he has had berths at several places since—he has occasionally been home to see his mother; I always knew where to find him—they lived together about six months, and then her mother took her away—at the end of the year a baby was born, which my mother took care of when it was two month old—the prisoner has never been to see the child, or inquired about it—I know Mrs. M'Hugh, she is living—I was not living in the house where they lodged, but I was in Dalston at the time—I lived at 47, Lennard Road, Clapton Park, for about two months, and then went to a lodging at Parkholm Road, Dalston Road.
Cross-examined. They were married in 1880, and the separation took place in 1881—I was fourteen years old at the time—I was living in 1883 at the "White House, Tiptree, Essex—I heard a report about my brother's death, but what it was I cannot recollect; I remember Mrs. Galilee or some of them sending a letter to us—my stepbrother's name was Frederick Roe—I heard that Frederick Roe had committed suicide at Manchester; ho was fifty-three, but I did not know that at the time—I do not know that a correspondence took place between my mother and the prisoner about it—this letter edged with black is not my mother's writing or my sister's—the heading is "White House, Tiptree "; that is where I aid my mother were living, but it is not her writing—the post-mark is Calvedon"; that is three miles from Tiptree—the date is November 2nd, 1883—I do not remember that about November 2nd, 1883, there was a correspondence between my mother and the prisoner—I never saw or heard of a letter from the prisoner—I did not see a newspaper report of Frederick Roe's suicide at Manchester; I was too young to look in the newspaper—I have never seen the prisoner since 1883—my brother was in a berth in 1883, but where I forget—it was not believed at home that he was dead; we knew where he was—I have not heard of his going to be married lately.
Re-examined. At the time of Roe's suicide in the cell at Manchester I was seeing my brother from time to time; that was in 1883, but I cannot say the time of year—I got no communication at all about my brother's suicide; nobody believed it in my household—he was in a situation in 1882 and 1883, and from time to time went to see my mother—I do not know in whose writing this black-edged letter is; none of my family—I co not know what berth he was in 1883, but my people at home do, because they had several letters from him saying how he was getting on.
By the COURT. I think my brother came home to our house in 1884—I saw him in the house in 1883—I swear it.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROUTH Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
Black Horse Road, "Walthamstow—on the evening of January 9th I went to the Royal Standard public-house—I am known there, and go there at least once a day—I had some rum, and put down a sovereign and got change—I gave five shillings to my son, and put the rest of the change into my left-hand pocket, loose—I saw the prisoner there, who I know by sight, and two others who I cannot identify—I left, and my son remained behind—when I got about fifty yards I was attacked by the prisoner and two others from behind, and knocked down flat on my back—the prisoner got on top of me—I was struck on my eye, and the prisoner put his hand in my left-hand pocket and took my money—they left me, and I got up and went to the fixed-point and told a constable—I was taken to the station the same night, and identified the prisoner from about thirteen men without any hesitation—I was about five minutes in the public-house, and he was there the whole time.
Cross-examined. My son came up while I was being assaulted, and went home with me—he and I had three pennyworth of rum each in the public-house, which I paid for—I had also been at the Essex Arms, where I had one pennyworth of beer, and I had my usual beer at lunch and dinner—my son went with me to the Essex Arms, and I treated him; I stood two drinks—it would not be correct to say that we had six drinks each—I heard him examined at Stratford, but did not hear him say, "I had six drinks, and my father bad the same number "; and if it was said it was not true—he is here—I heard Mr. Atkinson cross-examine him—the change was half a sovereign and ten shillings, less the drink; and I changed the half-sovereign and gave my son five shillings, so that I had 14s. 6d.—what was taken from me was all silver—I had a stick with me, and my son took it from under me, and used it on the three men—there were lamps at very long distances, and on the other side there is a long field for nearly a quarter of a mile—it was dark—the three men were on top of me; I was very much dazed, and cannot recognise them—they were short, thick-set men—I could not see their faces to swear to them—the prisoner's face was close to mine, and I knew him well, because he once attacked my wife—I know Delia by sight—I saw him the next morning, Sunday, and told him what had happened—I had a black eye, which the prisoner gave me—Delia asked me if I knew them, and I said, "It is in the hands of the police, and I will not answer any questions"—I did not say, "They well stroked me down, but I had nothing for them to take"—my son did not say to me on the Sunday, in the presence. of Goddard, an ex-police officer, that I had given some men a good hiding last night, and could do so again—when I came out at six o'clock I had £1 in my pocket and twopence—I was not drinking the whole evening with my son, nor did we have six drinks each at those two places—I can carry six glasses without being drunk-, but not ten; about six is my full capacity—I paid for the six glasses out of my usual money; before I changed the sovereign I took my wife out, and she generally has a glass of wine at the Essex Arms; we went along the Chingford Road, where she had some ginger-beer, and possibly had another glass of beer—the six glasses were not pretty well mixed, only with the rum—I paid for them with my own money; I always carry a shilling or two—I did not change the sovereign till the evening.
Re-examined. I brought out the sovereign for the first time at the
Royal Standard, just before I was attacked—it was loose in my pocket—the two men who knocked me down were behind me, and I cannot recognise them, but the prisoner was in front of me, lying on me—I did not say, "I had nothing to take"—that would have been untrue—when I saw Della I had made this charge.
PERCY WILLIAM WARD . I am a gunner in the Royal Artillery, and was on furlough—on January 9th I was with my father at the Royal Standard public-house, and saw the prisoner and two others, who I cannot identify—we had some drink, which my father paid for; he changed a sovereign, and gave me five shillings—after which we both had some rum, and after that a glass of ale each, which I paid for with some loose coppers—he left first, and I stopped there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, when a boy came and said something, and I went out and found my father about fifty yards down Black Howe Road, with the prisoner on his chest, rifling his pockets, another man leaning on his chest, and a third standing up, who gave me a blow on my face and knocked me down—I was kicked on my mouth and almost stunned, and could not render my father any assistance—I identified the prisoner directly at the station.
Cross-examined. I was perfectly sober, and have a perfect recollection of everything that happened—I said before the Magistrate that I found my father 200 yards down the road, but I should say it was fifty yards—my father was lying on his stick, and I took it from under him, and tried to use it—I had a small regimental cane with me, which I used, but I did not use my father's stick; I pulled it out, as being heavier than mine, but it was knocked out of my hand—I told the Magistrate that I used my cane but used no stick—it is not true that Mr. Graham, the landlord, refused to serve us—we did not leave the house together—no one refused to serve us because we were drunk—I only had four or five drinks the whole evening, with my father; some were rum and the rest bitter ale—my father had the same amount—I think I had six drinks in the Standard—I went to the Essex Arms that night, but my father was not with me—I have been a soldier twelve months—I did not strike somebody who was close by me—it had been freezing and had thawed again—I do not know that man (Donald Clark) or that man (Delia), I do not recognise him as giving evidence for the defence before the Magistrate—I did not tell Clark next day. hat I had knocked somebody's eye out—I did not show Delia my knuckles, they were scratched—I did not say, "I guarantee one of them has got a mouthful of loose teeth"—I know the prisoner by sight, I have had no quarrel with him—I did not go back to the Standard that night.
JAMES BUCKLE (Detective Sergeant). A communication was made to the police about the robbery, and I saw the prisoner on 15th January, at 10 45 p.m., in the bar of the Black Horse public-house; I called him outside and told him he answered the description of a man, concerned with two others, in committing an assault and stealing 15s. from a man in Black Horse Lane on the 9th instant—I made a note at the time of what ho said—he said, "You have made a mistake; it was me that was assaulted"—I told him he would have to come to the station for identification—on the way there he said, "I saw the soldier in Black Horse Lane, he was drunk; I said to him, 'Hold up, soldier, it is rather slippery
to-night,' and with that both the men crossed to me, pushing me against the fence, and the soldier said, 'I have been a soldier twelve months,' and jobbed his stick in my eye"—I said, M And you hare done nothing?"—he said, "What do you think? when I have a chance I let out"—he was identified at the station from seven people taken from the street, and charged—he said, "I was by myself, no one was with me.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries; nothing is said against his character.
Re-examined. He was fined for an assault on 21st November, 1891, but was admitted to bail.
Witnesses for the Defence.
GEORGE GRAHAM . I have kept the Royal Standard five months—I know the prosecutor and his son as customers—on January 9th, between eight and nine o'clock, they came in, and the father had half-a-pint of ale—the soldier never asked for anything—they went away together; no boy came in and called the soldier, I was in the bar the whole time—the soldier came back into the bar five or six minutes after wards with a stick la his hand, swagging about some person, and said he would give him a good hiding if he came across him—it was not a soldier's cane, it was a stick—he was just as usual, fresh—my niece was behind the bar—the old gentleman put coppers down, nothing else, he changed no gold that night—there was no gold in the till—I have two sons and a niece to help me—if a sovereign was changed I should have seen it—the prisoner is an honest young fellow—I have not heard that he was fined 10s. for an assault; I have never heard anything against him.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor is a customer also—I was not called before the Magistrate, I was subpœnaed here—there were only three people in my house, three working men—the prisoner was not one of them—I did not hear about this robbery till a week afterwards, but January 9th is fixed upon my mind by the soldier coming in and saying he had been attacked; he never mentioned robbery—I do not take the money; I have a till on which all silver is placed, and the gold is placed on a shelf—I do not watch every copper that is paid—I am a Yorkshire-man.
Re-examined. The change is kept in one place, and whoever changes a sovereign goes to that place—I always keep my eye on that place.
JAMES DELLA . I am a labourer, of 3, Iron Place, Walthamstow; on Sunday, January 10th, about 11.30 a.m., I saw the prosecutor; he had a black eye, and said, "You see what they did to me last night"; I said, "What was the cause of their doing that to you? I have always seen you about quiet, and not interfering with anyone"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "Did they do it with the intention of taking anything away from you?"—he said, "They might have thought I had got something, seeing me walk about at my leisure; they both stroked me down, but I had got nothing"—his son showed me his cut lip and said, "You see what they have done to me. Do you see my knuckles?"—the skin was off both knuckles—I have no animosity against the complainant; he never did me harm—I have known the prisoner about three years; he was always honest and hardworking, and very much respected—he is a labourer.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me he had been to the police and
charged them, and I did not know it—I did not mention about the mouthful of loose teeth before the Magistrate; I was stopped; they did not wish to hear me any further, and I was ordered out of the witness-box—he did not say, "It is in the hands of the police, and I will not say anything"—he said, "I had nothing to take"—I gave evidence on the Wednesday following; nobody asked me to do so; I done it gratis; I did not know he was charged till I saw Mr. Purbank; they said he was locked up—I did not know what it was about—I came forward and told the solicitor I wanted to give information.
DONALD CLARK . I am a commercial traveller, of Zion Hill, Waltham-stow—I only know the prosecutor and his son by sight—I was going to meet my wife, and stood a few minutes outside the Standard till she arrived about nine o'clock—she had some refreshment, and the soldier-came up in his full uniform and made use of a very rude remark, saying he had knocked somebody in the b——eye, and called the ostler to come out—I advised him to go home, and wash his face and go to bed—I do not know the prisoner—I have no interest in the matter.
Cross-examined. I got there about 8.50—I saw no struggle.
ALFRED GODDARD . I am a pensioned City constable, and live at Walthamstow—I know the prosecutor and his son—on 9th January, about 8.45, I saw them in Forest Road, in front of me, with their arms linked together, and I had a hard matter to get along, as they were staggering—on the next night I saw them in the Essex Arms, between eight and nine o'clock—the son was showing his knuckles, and said, "I have loosened some of their teeth, but I have got this for it, "pointing to a swelled lip—his father came in a few seconds afterwards and said, "Yes, I have got this for it, but I think they have got the worst of it"—he had a lack eye—he said, "They rubbed me down: they thought of getting something, but I had nothing for them."
Cross-examined. I do not know whether the prosecutor and his son had already made their complaint; I did not hear that—perhaps the remark, "I have got this for it," was not taken down at the Policecourt—the Magistrate asked me if the prosecutor was drunk, and I said I never saw him sober—he never was sober, to my knowledge, till this case was pending; I have been in the force over twenty years, and I should not have lent myself to it—I was not asked before the Magistrate what the father said, I stated it to the solicitor—I went to the Police-court on the remand, to give evidence; I did not know who the party was who was supposed to have struck these two—I saw nothing that occurred after the prosecutor and his son got into the Standard.
NOT GUILTY .
297. WILLIAM WISEMAN (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a ring and other articles, and £17 10s., of Henry Bliss, and to a previous conviction of felony in February, 1891.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
Before Mr. Justice Cave.
299. JOHN MILLIGAN (22), SAMUEL MILLIGAN (19), and GEORGE MARTIN (19) , Feloniously wounding Henry Smeeth, with intent to murder. Other Counts, with intent to maim, disable, to do grievous bodily harm, and to resist their apprehension.
MESSRS. G. ELLIOTT and BIRON Prosecuted; and MR. LAWLESS Defended Martin.
CHARLES HILL . I am a porter in the employment of the South-Eastern Railway Company, at Maze Hill Station—on 4th January I was on duty there, as a night-watchman; about 2.45 I heard a noise in the booking-office; I went towards the office, and saw a light inside—I could see into the outer office—inside the outer office there is the ticket-office—I looked in through the glass door, and saw two men come from the inner booking-office, the ticket-office, and one standing in the middle of the outer office—I can't say who the two men were—the three men then came out of the booking-office on to the platform; they came through the door where I was—I was standing close to them, about a yard off—the door was open; they passed me, and walked out quickly—it was light—there was a large lamp on the platform, just above me and them, and the gas was burning in the booking-office; they left the gas burning—I could tell then who two of the men were; they were John and Samuel Milligan—the third man came behind John Milligan; I did not happen to have such a good look at him as the others, but to the best of my belief Martin is the man; I am not quite so sure as I am to the other two; I did not see him quite so well—before they came out I said, "What game now? come out of it"—Samuel Milligan made an indecent remark, and then they came out and went towards No. 2 station, called the Subway Station; I followed them about half-a-dozen steps—I did not see Martin then, only as he came out of the door—one of them, I do not know which, said, "you had better go back, or it will be worse for you"—I then went to call the station-master, whose house was about two hundred yards off, and before I got there I heard the police-whistle blowing from the direction of the subway, the direction in which the prisoners had gone—I saw the station-master, and made a communication to him, and then went back to the booking-office; I heard, a scuffle and a call for help;. I then went again to the station-master, and told him to hurry up, and then I went through the station to the subway booking-office; that is on a lower level, under the railway, about eighteen or twenty steps down; I did not enter it; I did not notice anything about. it at that time—I went back up the steps to the down booking-office—I then noticed that the safe had been removed from the cupboard, and the till had been forced—about half-past eight that morning I went to the police-station, and in the charge-room I saw about seven men—I was asked to see if I could identify the three men who I had seen; I looked, and picked out Martin—I afterwards identified the two Milligans; they were put among other men; they were not among the first lot that I saw.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. Martin was the first I identified—Samuel was the second—I could not say whether you were put among
the same men as Martin was; I did not take particular notice of the other men—I did not notice anything unusual about your face; I did not notice any blood or marks—I noticed your general appearance-nobody told me where you were standing.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. I aid not see you come in to be put among the men by the constable—I don't know whether you were put among the same men—I don't know how the men were arranged—I went out of the room, and came back again.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. I did not pick out a wrong man before I picked out Martin—I did not really pick out a wrong man—I said before the Magistrate that I went to a man, not Martin, and pointed to him, but that was not correct; my memory failed me; I was not in the Court when the inspector was examined; he made no statement to me—I went back into the charge-room three times—I went in first and identified Martin, and thinking I should find the other men in the room I looked along the line and there was a man somewhat resembling Samuel Milligan, and I half pointed to him; I did not actually pick him out; I did not touch him—I was not told afterwards that it was the wrong man; the man himself told me so—I said at the Police-court, "Martin is one of the three men I saw, to the best of my belief, he closely resembles him"—I said "to the best of my belief," not positively—I had never seen him before that night—I had not such a good view of the third man—there was a good lamp with two burners—they don't lower the burners at night; they are kept on full the whole night.
Re-examined. I did not pick out the other man for Martin, it was for Samuel Milligan.
SAMUEL PARKER . I am station-master at Maze Hill Station—I left duty about half-past eleven on 3rd January—I left the booking-office on the platform locked up—I left the cupboard locked and the safe secure; there was £41 12s. 1d. in it—about 2.50 in the morning Hill came and said something to me; I immediately came out and heard a police whistle blowing; I went in the direction of it; there I saw John Milligan in custody of the police—I afterwards went back to the booking-office and found the cupboard broken open and the safe removed into the centre of the office, the till broken open and the contents stolen—I subsequently went to the other booking-office in the subway; a pane of glass was broken and the window prised up and two cupboards broken open; the till was open and nothing in it—no property was stolen from there; no property was left there—the money was in the iron safe in the other office; that safe was not broken open, but the till was, and 19s. 11d. taken—near the safe were these three housebreaking implements, a bit, or brace, a chisel, and an iron spike.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. Hill only came to me once; he waited and knocked again, and I came down.
ALBERT ACKHURST . I am a booking-clerk at Maze Hill Station—on the night of the 3rd January I went off duty at half-past twelve—my office if the booking-office on the down side; I left it looked up; there was 19s. 11d. in the till—I locked the door between the ticket-office and the booking-office.
HENRY SMEETH (162 R). A little after two on the morning of Monday, 4th January, I was on duty in Woodlands Park Road—in consequence of something I heard I went to the subway booking-office—I heard a noise
like the forcing open of a tin box—I waited a little, the noise still continued—I heard a noise like the forcing of a door—I still continued there, and I saw a tall man getting over a fence about thirty yards further down the Woodlands Park Road—I would not swear to the man—when he got over the fence he stood there—Samuel Milligan got on to the fence and asked the tall man if it was all right—he said, "Yes, look at him sharp"—Samuel then got over into the road—I then saw Martin get on to the top of the fence, and he came over also; I was about thirty yards from him—it was like between the gas lamps; the gas was shining on them; I could see him pretty fairly—they all three stood there—I then ran tip-toe after them, and got pretty close to them—they saw me and they ran down Frobisher Street to the right—I went after them—they proceeded from Frobisher Street into Parker Street, and there I caught the tall man and Samuel Milligan—Martin then came running' back; he had got in front of us—I said to him that I was a police-constable—he caught hold of me round the neck and said, "Down him"; he pulled me down and Samuel kicked me in the right eye, and Martin kicked me in the left side of the head—the tall man was holding me down—I got out my truncheon, and struck the tall man on the head—they all three got hold of my truncheon and dragged me about eight or ten yards on my back—my truncheon strap broke, and it was twisted out of my hand, and the tall man beat me unmercifully about my head—then they all three ran away—I got up and blew my whistle, and ran after them—the tall man came back and said, "Go back, you b——," and hit me on the head—I fell down unconscious, and I then staggered up and saw the tall man and Samuel run to the left towards Edward Street, past the subway booking-office—the tall man and Samuel went towards Edward Street, Martin ran to the right towards Frobisher Street—I could see which way they went as they turned the corner; I was not long unconscious then; I staggered up again and tried to blow my whistle again, but owing to the loss of blood I could not, and Sergeant Robinson came to my assistance and took me indoors and bathed my head—I remember no more till I became conscious in the Seaman's Hospital, where I remained till the 30th—on the 2nd of this month I went to the Police-station and saw a number of men—I picked out one man who I thought was Martin, but he turned out not to be Martin; Martin was not there then—I subsequently saw another set of seven or eight' men, and I picked out Samuel Milligan—there was another lot of men brought in—I went upstairs to the inspector's office while other men were brought out into the reserve—room—I walked round about three or four; I stood in front of Martin, and I put my hand on him—I cannot swear to the tall man—I have not done any duty since.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. There was a room full of men at your identification, I could not tell how many; there were a great number—I was not told to pick out a certain man—I would not swear to you, because you held your head down.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. I picked you out by your face and your coat—there were other men there with light coats on; the fence I was you get over was seven feet high.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. It was nearly a month after this assault that I went to the station to identify the men—when I picked E 2
out Martin I was not told that I was wrong—I said he looked like the man, and I put my hand on him—I was taken out and went in again, I then picked out Samuel Milligan—I was then taken out and went in again, I then picked out Martin without any hesitation—when I pursued the men and caught Samuel and the tall man, they struggled a little—I said I was a police constable—they did not struggle very much, they did a little—it was while I was struggling with them that Martin came and threw me down, and then I was immediately beaten—the man I first picked out was somewhat like Martin.
Re-examined. When I saw Martin on the second occasion I had not the least doubt.
JAMES TAPPIN (170 R). On 4th January, about 2.40 a.m., I was on duty in Walnut-tree Road, East Greenwich; I heard a police-whistle in direction of the railway—I ran in that direction; when I reached Edward Street I met Head, an engine-driver, and in consequence of what he said I ran towards Woodlands Park Road and met John and Samuel Milligan coming from the direction of Tasker Street—I was in uniform—directly I saw them, Samuel said to me, "There are two blokes gone that way, governor," and with those words he rushed towards me and knocked me in my left eye, and knocked my helmet off, and John immediately struck me on my head with a bludgeon; it drove me to my knees—I got up and ran after them, and attempted to take Samuel—he hit a blow at my face, and John struck me on the head again with a bludgeon and knocked me to the ground—I blew my whistle and called out for assistance—I picked myself up and walked back to Edward Street—I saw Head, and asked him to accompany me to the station—I saw John and Samuel Milligan again, walking in the direction of Deptford, and as I caught up to them a second time Easton came up in his shirt—I lost sight of him directly—I went with Head to Trafalgar Road, and I there saw the two prisoners on the opposite side of the road in front of me, walking towards Deptford away from me—I saw an inspector in the act of meeting them, and I called out, M Stop those two men, sir!"—he stopped them—Samuel ran away—the inspector said to me, "Run after that man!"—I said, "I cannot; they have assaulted me"; I was then very weak from loss of blood—eventually we held John; he struggled to get away, so I struck him several times with my truncheon on the left arm—assistance arrived, and he was taken to the station—I had my wounds dressed and went home—before I went home Samuel was brought to the station, and I identified him immediately—I have not been able to resume duty since.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. You were walking towards Deptford when I came up—you were not talking to the inspector; you were close to me; I had not the least hesitation about you—I did not hit you across the ear with my staff; I helped to hold you till assistance arrived—I walked behind you to the station.
GEORGE HEAD . I live at 12, Eton Street, East Greenwich—I am an engine-driver on the South-Eastern Railway—on the morning of 4th January I was returning home about ten minutes to three, and when I was in Edward Street I heard a police-whistle blowing; shortly after Tappin came running past me; I spoke to him, and he went on—I still heard the whistle blowing—I saw Tappin against the subway booking-office in Woodlands Park Road; the two prisoners were coming towards
Vanbrugh Road, Tappin following them—I did not see what took place—I went up to Tappin, with Thames Constable Easton, and saw the two prisoners there—Samuel had a staff in his hand; he was going to hit the inspector, but he put up his arm and saved the blow—this was at the Maze Hill booking-office—the two prisoners got away—I took Tappin to the top of Edward Street, and I saw the two Milligans come along Trafalgar Road, near the church—I saw Inspector Weidner there; John was near the church railings, and Samuel was near the road; we called out for assistance; Weidner caught hold of John, Samuel got away—I went to the Police-station with John—I was at the station when Samuel was brought in, and I identified him as the man that I had seen with John, and who had the staff in Edward Street—I am positive to both of them.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. When I saw you with Inspector Weidner you were not talking to him; another constable took you to the station, not Tappin—I can't say who hit you across the head and arm—I can't say that you were hit; I was looking more after you, to see that you did not get away—Tappin was not able to assist in taking you to the station.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. The first time I saw you you had the staff—you were not talking to the inspector when I came up; you were with your brother.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. It was about ten minutes' walk from the station that the assault I saw took place—there was not a considerable crowd; there were several people walking about.
WILLIAM EASTON . I am an inspector of the Thames Police, and live at 15, Eton Terrace, East Greenwich, near to Maze Hill Station—shortly before three in the morning of 4th January I was at home in bed—I was awoke by cries and whistles—I jumped out of bed and ran to the street-door, and about twenty yards to my right I saw the two Milligans striking Tappin and beating him about the head; Tappin had his arm up trying to defend his head—I only had my shirt on; I ran towards the prisoners—John struck me a heavy blow on my head; I noticed that he was bleeding from a previous injury, a little blood, not much—I then turned to engage with Samuel, but before I was able to bring myself erect he raised his arm with an instrument like a small iron bar and tried to hit me on the head—finding they were desperate characters, I went indoors and put on my trousers and came back; the men had then escaped—I fell in with another policeman, and we went into Trafalgar Road, and looking towards Christ Church I saw several men coming along, and Inspector Weidner had John Milligan in custody; I identified him—I assisted Tappin to Park Road Station, as he was very weak—in ten or fifteen minutes another constable arrived with Samuel Milligan in custody; I identified him—I had a good opportunity of seeing their faces; the assault on Tappin happened within a few feet of a public lamp.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. You were not put among any men to be identified—Tappin had no staff in his hand, nor any helmet on, his face was covered with blood; he had nothing in his hand.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. I did not see anybody assault you.
Police-whistles in the direction of Vanbrugh Road; I went in that direction, and by Christ Church I saw the two Milligans walking from the direction of Greenwich towards me—I stopped them, and asked them if they had heard a policeman's whistle blowing just now—they replied no—I said, "Where are you going?"—they said, "Home"—I said, "What is the matter?" at the same time catching hold of them, and pushing John against the church railings—they struggled to get away—at that time I heard footsteps, and Tappin and Head, the engine-driver, came out of Edward Street—I recognised Tappin's voice: "Those are the two men; hold them, sir"—I said, "Come and catch hold of this man, "meaning Samuel, and as Tappin was stepping on the pavement, Samuel released himself, and ran—seeing Tappin's condition, I asked Head to assist him in holding John, while I ran after Samuel—Tappin asked Head to take his truncheon out of his pocket, which ho did, and Tappin struck John Milligan several times on the loft arm, but he was so weak from loss of blood that his blows had little effect—John was struggling at the same time, saving, "I am not the man; you have made a mistake"—Tappin and I took him towards the station—we were met by a constable, and Tappin was relieved, and eventually we took John to the station—on the way he struggled, and someone from behind struck him on the head—I don't know who it was—I turned round, and said, "Don't hit him again"—we took him to the station, and sent men to scour the neighbourhood—shortly afterwards I met Samuel in custody of 518, who was injured, and I recognised him as the man who had escaped from me—I afterwards received from Hill a description of three men who he had seen in the booking-office, and I set Jarman, 294, to watch the address given by the Milligans—I afterwards went there with Inspector Hocking, where I saw Martin—as he answered the description given by Hill, he was taken to Park Road Station—afterwards, in company with necking, I searched the address of the Milligans—we found a safe broken up, and a miniature safe, the subject of another charge—I went back to the station—Martin was placed with a number of men in the library, and Hill was sent for, and was told to go in and see if he identified anyone there that ho had seen in the booking-office—he went into the library, and looking as the men stood, from the left to the right, when he got to Martin he went and touched him—he thon took a step back, and looked along the line, and at the far end of the line ho pointed to a man—I said, "That will do; come this way"—when he got to me I said, "Have you any doubt about the man you have touched"—he said, "None whatever"—that man was Martin—John Milligan was then placed among the men, and Hill identified him—Samuel was afterwards placed with men, and Hill identified him—they were all three in the inspector's office charged, when Martin said, pointing to Hill, "That man has made a mistake"—I searched them—on John Milligan I found 4d. in bronze; on Samuel, in his outside coat pocket, 5s. in bronze, and in one trousers pocket a sixpence and a cent piece, and in the other trousers pocket 3s. in silver—on Martin I found 1s. 6d. in silver and 6d. in bronze—I thon went to the railway station and found a chisel, a brace, and an iron bar—I examined the promises, I found that the window of the subway or No. 2 booking-office had been broken, the catch had been pushed back and un entry effected in that way—two drawers in the outer office wore broken
open, and the marks on one of the drawers corresponded with this chisel—in the down booking-office I found they had got in at the front door by a key, they must then have climbed over the partition which separates the ticket-office from the booking-office, and forced open a cupboard, the marks on which corresponded with the chisel; the safe had been taken from the cupboard and placed in the centre of the ticket-office, it was not broken open—the till was empty.
Cross-examined by John Milligan. I first saw you when I stopped you against Christ Church railings—I was talking with you about two minutes—Tappin and Head came out of the street almost opposite—you struggled to get away, but did not strike me—Samuel released himself before Tappin got up to us—I did not see any blood upon you—at the station Martin was the first person to be identified, you were the second, and you were put among the same men, but I believe the position of the men had been changed; I did not hare the arrangement; you were all three put among the same men—there was a little blood upon you at the identification; not much—I did not notice any swelling about your head; there was some on your ear; your ear had been plastered up—the men you were put among were-working men—they all had hats on—I could not say whether they wore caps or hats; to the best of my recollection they were all black hats, like you were wearing—there was nothing about your appearance that made me suspicious—when I heard the whistling I made up my mind to stop the first person I met—I did not notice any sign of a struggle about you—I did not notice the blood till I got to the station and saw your ear bleeding—the blow you had on the head did not sound like one on the ear—Tappin struck you on the arm several times; they were not very heavy blows, he was too weak—we were about a quarter of a mile from the station when I took you.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. You attempted to get away before your brother was hit—I said nothing about charging you before Tappin said, "Stop them"—I caught hold of you by your coat, and Tappin fell on to you—ho had not got his staff out.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. When we were taking them to the station a crowd collected, and they showed violence towards them; there was not a considerable crowd, because I had sent most of the men to search the neighbourhood for the other man—when I found Martin in the custody of Jarman he was in the street where the Milligans live—I believe Jarman said, "This man has come up to call the Milligans, and I stopped him"; that was all that was said—Hill did not point out another man till after he had identified Martin.
By the COURT. After he had touched Martin he took a step back and looked farther along the line, and he pointed to a man at the end of the tow; he did not say anything, nor when he pointed out Martin; he touched him and then came away—the other man was not anything like Martin.
JOHN INGRAM (518 5). A little before three on the morning of 4th January I was on duty in Micenia Road, Woodlands Park—I heard a police-whistle, and shortly after I saw Samuel Milligan coming over the railway bridge towards me from the direction of Maze Hill Station in the direction of Vanbrugh Park—I asked him if he had heard the police-whistles blowing—he said, "No"—I asked him what he was doing out at that hour in the morning—he said he had been boozing about since
eight, and then had a cup of coffee—I asked him where he got his coffee from—he said, "Down the road"—I noticed that he was agitated and carrying a dirty white handkerchief in his right hand—I took hold of his hand and examined it by the aid of my lamp, and I noticed blood on the back of it, also on the cuff of his coat—I said, "There is something wrong somewhere, and I think you know something about it," and I took him into custody, and took him to the station.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. You had no chance of escape; you attempted it in Vanbrugh Hill.
LLEWELLYN JARMAN (294 R). About four in the morning of Monday, 4th January, in consequence of instructions from Inspector Weidner, I went to 51, Addy Street, where the Milligans lived; I waited there till about six, when I saw Martin come there; he was going towards 51—on my approaching him he said, "I am not one of the Milligans; my name is not Milligan"—I was about three or four yards from the door, watching the house—I did not speak to him first—I said, "What makes you say that?—he said, "I thought the Milligans was in trouble"—I said "what makes you think that?" he said, "I don't know"—I said, Where are you going now?"—he said, "To call the Milligans up to go to work"—I said, "When did you see Milligan last?"—he said "I saw Samuel in the Broadway, Deptford, at nine o'clock Sunday evening"—he afterwards said, "Eight o'clock"—I said, "I shall take you to the station on suspicion of being concerned with the two Milligans in assaulting the police at Maze Hill"—he said, "You can't bring it home to me, as I was in bed at the time"—he was then taken to the station—at the station he said, "I can prove that I left Samuel Milligan in the Broadway, Deptford, at eleven o'clock on Sunday night"—I had seen Martin on two occasions before this in Samuel Milligan's company—I had received a description of Martin from Inspector Weidner before I saw him on the 4th.
Cross-examined by MR. LAWLESS. Martin lives about three-quarters of a mile from the Milligans—I could not say whether he and Samuel Milligan work at the docks—I have not ascertained that they work there together—I did not first say to Martin, "Where are you going?" and that he then said, "I am going to call at the Milligans"—he spoke to me first—I took a note of the conversation soon afterwards at Black-heath station, the same day—Inspector Weidner came up just after we had finished the conversation—I said to him, "I am going to take this man to the station; he answers the description;" and he said, "Yes; take him down"—two constables took him to the station—I remained with Weidner—to the best of my belief I did not say to Weidner, "This. 1 man came to call for the Milligans"—I have a pretty fair memory—this was about the time that labourers go to work—when he came towards the Milligans house he was coming in the direction to his own house.
ARTHUR JERVIS , M. B. I am house surgeon at the Dreadnought hospital, Greenwich—on 4th January, at four a.m., I was called to Police Constable Smeeth; I found him unconscious, bleeding from several wounds in the head; his skull was covered with blood; he must have lost considerable amount of blood; his clothes were saturated with blood; he was suffering from concussion—he remained unconscious about twenty hours—he had five wounds on his head and face, varying from about half an inch to three inches in length, three of them down to
the bone—the whole of his head was bruised—he had a cut over his right eyelid; both eyes were black—the wounds down to the bone were done by a blunt instrument, such as a policeman's truncheon—the wound over the eye could be caused by a kick from a boot; it was too much under the eye to be hit by a truncheon—after he became conscious he became delirious for about two days—he remained with us about a month—for some time his life was in danger; the injuries were very serious; it will be some considerable time before he is able to resume duty; he had concussion of the brain, which sometimes affects the memory; not often.
ALEXANDER FORSYTH . I am a divisional surgeon, of 12, Park Place, Greenwich—on 4th January, about half past three a.m., I saw Tappin at the station—he was covered with blood, and was in a very weak and excited condition—he had a large cut on the left temple, about an inch and a half long, and on the left side of the head; he was also in a bruised condition, the scalp had been rendered almost pulpy—the left eye was bruised, and there were other bruises about him of minor importance—the blows were such as would be caused by a truncheon; they were bruised wounds caused by a blunt instrument rather than a sharp one—there must have been considerable violence to have caused such wounds; he is still unable to resume his duty.
Cross-examined by Samuel Milligan. The washing and dressing of his wounds took about half an hour or more—you were present at the time—it did not take nearly as long to dress yours.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. John Milligan:" I will swear Martin was never with me or my brother Sam; we were having a walk by ourselves, and had nothing to do with it at all." Samuel Milligan: "I left Martin at a quarter to eleven on Sunday night to go home, and I never saw him any more till in the Police-station next morning. Me and my brother were walking, and got took in custody, and I never knew the charge till at the station." Martin: "I am not guilty of this charge."
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence of Martin.
GEORGE MARTIN . I live at 5, Hyde Street, Deptford, and am a coach painter—I am the prisoner's father—I heard on Monday evening, 4th January, of his arrest—he lives with me—the previous night he returned home just about eleven; I let him in—he sat down to his supper, and then went straight to bed; it was very little after eleven—he sleeps on the first floor—I have the whole house—I went to bed at half-past one, I know he was in bed then—I do not sleep in the same room—I got up next morning about eight o'clock; I heard no more of him till about seven o'clock that evening—he works at the Surrey Commercial Docks—he usually starts out at ten or fifteen minutes to six—I call him generally about half-past five—I believe that Samuel Milligan works at those docks, I do not know it.
Cross-examined. I know my son has gone to work and come back with Milligan, and I know Milligan has thrown stones at the window in the morning, and I believe my son has called him if he has been out first—I know my son was not out that morning at five o'clock; I am sometimes up at five, but this morning I was not up till eight—I did not know he had been spending the Sunday evening with the Milligan—I had told him I thought they were not fit for his company, because
people gave them a bad name—I don't know that he was a particular associate of theirs; he was obliged to be with them because of working with them—the latest at which I saw him was at one a.m., when he was in bed—we all sleep on the first floor—we bolt the front door and fasten it up—anyone coming downstairs could unbolt it and go out—the key is never used—I sat up that night because my daughter was out to tea and supper, and her intended brought her home about half-past twelve, and we sat talking till one o'clock—it is my rule to look in my son's bedroom when I go to bed, to see that the lamp there is not too high—we burn lamps in both rooms because of the children—I went in and saw him at one o'clock.
Re-examined. I bolted the front door before I went to bed.
MARIA MARTIN . I am the prisoner's sister and the last witness's daughter—on this Sunday night I came in at twenty minutes past twelve—about half-past twelve I went up to my youngest brother, who sleeps in another bed in the same room with the prisoner, and who was sick—I sat on the bed the prisoner was sleeping in—when I left the room it was just turned one, and I went downstairs to go to bed myself—my father was still up.
Cross-examined. I have six brothers sleeping in that room, three in each bed—I know they were all there—they never cover up their heads—I know the prisoner was there, because I was sitting just at his feet with the child in my arms—my attention was given to the child—I believe my father went in the room as I went downstairs.
ALFRED MARTIN . I am a painter, and a brother of the prisoner—I work with my father—I slept in the same room with the prisoner—on this Sunday night I went to bed at ten o'clock—the prisoner came into the room soon after eleven, and came to bed—he sleeps by my side in the same bed—I woke up once in the night, and he was at my side then—there are two beds in the room, and three sleep in each bed—I was awake next morning when my father called him up—he is in the habit of leaving at twenty or fifteen minutes to six.
Cross-examined. I sleep in the middle of the bed—it was not dark when I woke; we have a lamp—I could not see the time.
WILLIAM MARTIN . I am a brother of the prisoner—I am a telegraph clerk in the South-Eastern Railway Company's employment at Rotherhithe Road—I sleep in the next bed to the prisoner, in the same room—on this Sunday night I went to bed about ten—I did not see him come to bed, but next morning I saw him in bed between half-past four and five; father called us both up, and I went downstairs to wash, and took him back the light—that is my usual hour—I have to be at Rotherhithe at six.
Cross-examined. It was nearer four than five when I saw him.
JAMES HARRIS . I am a dock labourer, living at 3, Burleigh Street, Greenwich—on 4th January, between five and six a.m., I met Martin coming from his house, and about 500 yards from it—he appeared to be going to his work—I only know Toomey by seeing him along of John Milligan on the Sunday night about half-past eleven—I know his name to be Toomey—he is very fair; he is about the same height as Martin, and has got no whiskers—I remember seeing Toomey with Milligan* because we were all in the Royal Albert public-house, in New Cross Road, till turning-out time—that is about a mile and a half from
Maze Hill—I spoke to Toomey and Milligan that night—I don't know if Toomey is a dock labourer.
Cross-examined. He is a very fair man; Martin is not at all like him.
Re-examined. He is the same height as Martin, and has no whiskers, but he is an older man.
STEPHEN GUMMER (Inspector Criminal Investigation Department). I do not know Toomey personally—I know that he is now in Canterbury prison waiting trial for burglary at Folkestone; he escaped from Canterbury after committal—before and on 4th January he was at large, and the police were looking for him.
John Milligan, in his defence, said that when he got home on the Sunday night about half-past eleven his brother was having a few words with his father and mother about his supper; that they went to a coffee-stall and then for a walk, and that they were speaking to Inspector Weidner when he was knocked* down by five or six persons and brutally assaulted, and next morning charged with a burglary, of which he knew nothing.
Samuel Milligan said that the witnesses knew they had made a mistake-as to identity, but as they must prosecute someone, they would not confess to—the mistake.
JOHN MILLIGAN and SAMUEL MILLIGAN— GUILTY .
MARTIN— NOT GUILTY .
JOHN MILLIGAN PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in July, 1890. Inspector Gummer stated that he was a terror to the neighbourhood in which he lived.— Fifteen. Years' Penal Servitude.
SAMUEL MILLIGAN**— Seven years' Penal Servitude. The GRAND JURY and the COURT commended the conduct of the constables. The COURT awarded Smeeth £20, Tappin £10, and Easton £5.
There were other indictments against Martin for burglary and for assaulting a police officer in the execution of his duty. No evidence was offered for the-prosecution.
— NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MESSRS C. F. GILL and CARRINGTON Defended. During the progress of the case the JURY intimated that they had agreed upon their verdict, and the COMMON SERJEANT concurring in the view that it could not be held that the defendant was servant to the prosecutor, they returned a verdict
NOT GUILTY . There were other indictments against the prisoner for similar offences. No evidence was offered.
— NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
DAVIS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. WALLACE Prosecuted.
THOMAS DYBALL (Police Sergeant M). On the morning of 7th January, about eleven, I was with Gentle in Tabard Street, Borough, and saw the prisoners together, and from information I had received I arrested Foster—I said, "I am going to take you into custody for burglarious breaking into No. 1, Bland Street"—he made no reply—he was taken to the station—whilst the prosecutrix was stating the charge, as he was in the dock, he lifted up his left foot and said, pointing to the prosecutrix, "These are the lady's boots, I may as well say so as not"—these (produced) are the boots, he was wearing them at the time—the prosecutor identified them.
WILLIAM GENTLE (Detective M). On the morning of 7th January, shortly after midnight, I was in Great Dover Street, and saw Foster with Davis and another—I followed them for about an hour, but subsequently lost them—in the morning, at nine o'clock, when I came to the station I heard of this burglary—I went with Dyball into Tabard Street, and there saw the prisoners—I arrested Davis; Dyball arrested Foster—at the station he was wearing these boots, which the prosecutor identified—Dyball asked him where he got them; he said he bought them—while in the dock he put his foot on the top of the dock—I could not hear what he said.
CATHERINE MAXWELL . I am the wife of William Maxwell, and live at 1, South Bland Street, Newington—on the night of 8th January I retired to rest about eleven—the house was perfectly secure; no window was left open—I fancy I heard a noise in the night about four or five—about seven I saw a flash of light through the bedroom window—I came down and found the back parlour window open, and missed a great coat, two pairs of boots, a table-cloth, a small knife, a comb and a pair of spectacles—on the mantelpiece there were three distinct marks where a candle had been fixed—I cannot swear to these boots; my husband does—at the station I saw Foster in the dock put up his foot, and he said he had the boots.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate." I know nothing about it whatever."
Prisoner. I wish to call Davis.
THOMAS DAVIS . I have pleaded guilty to this charge—I am a printer, and live at St. Olave's Chambers, Tabard Street—on 7th January, between nine and half past, Foster bought these boots of me at a lodging-house—he was a stranger to me—he was lying on a form asleep—I woke him up, and asked him whether he wanted to buy a pair of boots; he tried them on, and they fitted him, and he gave me sixpence for them.
FOSTER— NOT GUILTY .
DAVIS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
THOMAS and COURT— discharged on recognisance.
NEWMAN— Six Weeks' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
306. CHARLES VINEY (16) and GEORGE FREMLIN , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Perry Atkins, and stealing a portmanteau and other goods; also to stealing a jewel case and other foods, the property of William Allen, and to two other indictments for burglary; viney also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in December, 1891. VINEY.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. FREMLIN .—Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. KYD Prosecuted.
HUGH ANDREW MOODY . I keep a general shop at 47, Bryant Street, Lambeth, a corner house—on 20th January I went to bed at half-past eleven, having looked round the house and left everything secure—I have lodgers; Mrs. Williams and her husband were the last to come in; they came in at a quarter to one—my mother's screams woke me just after three; I came down and found the staircase window on the first floor open, and the prisoner in the passage on the ground floor by the door; he had no boots on—I dragged him to the street-door to call the police; he asked me to let him go, and said he would promise not to come again—I opened the door and called the police—he struggled, and just as the constable arrived the prisoner slipped outside the door, and the constable chased him—I found the prisoner's hat and boots in the passage—he was brought back, and asked me to give him his hat and boots, but I told the constable to take them to the station—he put them on at the station—in the yard at the back of my house was a ladder; that was put under the staircase window—the window was shut before I went to bed—I did not miss anything.
DAVID YARDLEY (74 L). At a quarter to four a m. on 20th January I heard shouts of "Police!" and ran to 47, Bryant Street, and when within five or six yards I saw the prisoner bolt out at the door without hat or boots—I chased him; he jumped over a wall, which was four or five feet high on this side and nine or ten feet high on the other—I got over after him, and found him concealed at the back of a closet-door there—I kept close behind him all the way, and saw him get over the wall—I asked him where his boots and hat were; he said, "I left them behind in the house"—I took him back—at the station, when charged with burglary, he said, "That is not quite right what they said; I got
up the wall and through the window with a ladder, which I found in the yard"—he was quite sober.
MINNIE WILLIAMS . I am the wife of Frederick William Williams; we live at 47, Royal Street, in Mr. Moody's house—I came in at twenty-five minutes to one on this night, letting myself in with a latchkey, and closing the door after me—the window on the staircase was then shut.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he only went into the house to sleep.
He then PLEADED GUILTY† to a conviction of felony in July, 1891.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. ALLEYN Prosecuted.
HENRY PENFOLD . I have no fixed address—on 21st December I put my pony in a field at Barnes, and it was gone in the morning; it was worth £6—I gave information, and saw it next at Thomas Vaughan's stable, at Kilburn.
SAMUEL JOHNSON . I am a labourer, of 253, High Street, Old Brentford—on 27th December I saw the prisoner at Southall Market with a pony—I asked Powell how much he wanted for it; he said £2—I afterwards saw it sold by auction for 30s.—I identified O'Connor at the Police-station on January 15th.
HAWKINS (Police Sergeant V). On 10th January I took Powell, and told him the charge; he said, "I don't know anything about it. I never saw the horse, nor did I know one was Bold"—on the way to the station he said, "I admit I was at Southall Market with another man, but I don't know who he was."
GUILTY — Three Months' Hard Labour each.
(311). WILLIAM SMITH (39) , to stealing a mowing machine and other goods; also to stealing five dresses, two pair of cruets, and other goods, of William Wilson Baker, after a conviction of felony at Newington on April 5th, 1887.— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, MARCH 7TH, 1892.