CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EIGHTH SESSION, HELD MAY 29TH, 1893.
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.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, May 29th, 1893, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. STUART KNILL, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM GRANTHAM , Knt., the Hon. Sir GAINSFORD BRUCE, Knt., two of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir ANDREW LUSK , Bart., Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M. P., Aldermen of the said City; GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q. C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D.; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
JOSEPH RENALS, Esq., Alderman.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
KNILL, MAYOR. EIGHTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, May 29th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
509. WALTER WILLIAM ANDREWS (26) , Stealing a post letter containing a postal order, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed in the Post Office, and GEORGE MILLER (28) , feloniously receiving the postal order.
ANDREWS PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. H. C. RICHARDS AND WYLD Prosecuted.
EBENEZER GEORGE ELDRIDGE . I am sub-postmaster at Shepherdess Walk, City Road—in consequence of communications made to me and specimens of handwriting, I watched for someone to present a postal order—on 9th May I had cashed a postal order for 5s. to a person representing himself as George Miller, who signed the order in my presence—the writing on that order corresponded with certain writing shown to me—on that day a Post Office official came to me, and in consequence of what he said I took notice of the prisoner when he came on the 13th and presented a blank postal order for 5s., issued from Dunn's, Berwick-on-Tweed—I recognised him as the same man who had cashed the order on the 9th—I said, "Fill up the order"—he filled it up in the name of G. Davis, Shepherdess Walk—he signed the receipt for it, and I gave him the money, and he went away—I gave my wife certain instructions—an order would not be paid unless the name at the bottom was the same as that at the top—if he had written "Davies, p. p. George Miller", he would have had to state his connection, and we should have made inquiries—my wife followed Miller when he left, and in consequence of what she communicated to me I wrote on the back of the orders the address where she traced him to, 3, Radnor Street, St. Luke's—I afterwards saw Miller in custody, and identified him; I have no doubt about him.
Department of the Post Office—in consequence of information I searched the postmen's address book, and found that Andrews lived at 3, Radnor Street—I sent Moxam there, where Miller was staying with his brother-in-law, Andrews—Moxam brought Miller to the Police-station—I showed him the order signed "G. Miller", and asked him what he knew about it—he said, "It was sent to Mrs. Andrews by her sister, a Mrs. Birch, who was a servant at Westgate-on-Sea; I filled it up and signed it at the post-office in Shepherdess Walk"—I produced to him the other order for 5s. issued by Dunn at Berwick-on-Tweed, and said, "This order has been cashed at the Shepherdess Walk Post-office this morning by a person answering your description; what do you know about it? The handwriting on it is similar to the writing on the order you have admitted cashing"—he said, "I have not cashed an order at the Shepherdess Walk office this morning"—before I had my conversation with Miller I had had a conversation with Andrews—he had not been given into custody; he was still in the office—between the examinations of Andrews and Miller there was sufficient time for the officer to go to Radnor Street and bring Miller—I afterwards confronted Miller with Andrews—I said to Miller, "Your brother-in-law, Andrews, says he stole that order out of a letter and gave it to you to cash?"—he said, "Yes, I did it"—I said, "What have you done with the 5s.?"—he said, "Spent it in booze "—I asked him to write his name on a piece of paper, and he wrote this, "G. Miller, Shepherdess Walk"—a number of orders in a similar writing have been cashed.
JAMES MOXAM . I am a police constable attached to the General Post Office—on 13th May I was sent by Mr. Mann to 3, Radnor Street, where I found Miller lying on a bed—I asked his name—he said, "George Miller"—I asked him for a specimen of his writing, and he wrote this in my presence: "George Miller, Shepherdess Walk; G. Davies, Shepherdess Walk.,
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that lie was not aware the postal orders were stolen; that lie only cashed them for Andrews because he thought lie had not time to cash them himself; that lie had no share in the proceeds, and was innocent
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months Hard Labour.
ANDREWS also PLEADED GUILTY to stealing another post letter containing postal orders. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
511. GEORGE HARRIS (20) and RICHARD CHADWICK (21) to burglary in a dwelling-house, and stealing forks and other articles, the goods of Joseph Clark; also to stealing three hundredweight of lead affixed to a building, the property of Philip Jacob Solomon; after convictions of felony—Harris** in November, 1892, and Chadwick** in May, 1891. HARRIS— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
CHADWICK— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
512. JAMES SLATER (15), JAMES DRUMMOND (14), JAMES THROWER (13), and EDWARD BUDD (13) , to robbery with violence on Frederick Jackson, and stealing 19s. 4d. from him. SLATER— Twenty, and DRUMMOND, THROWER, and BUDD Twelve Strokes each with a Birch Rod. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
513. HENRY JAMES STAFFORD (27) , to stealing, while employed under the Post Office, & post letter containing postal orders, the property of the Postmaster-General; and also to two other indictments for similar offences.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
514. CESARE DUCCI (23) , to three indictments for uttering cheques for £6 14s., £1, and £10 4s.; and also to stealing certain property, the goods of Gertrude Elizabeth Smith.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
515. WILLIAM PEARMAN (36) , to two indictments for uttering undertakings for the payment of £4 10s. and £4 10s.; having been convicted of felony in April, 1891.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
The prisoner was desirous to refund the money, and the prosecutor did not press the case.—Discharged on recognisances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
517. WALTER JONES (28) , to stealing £2, the moneys of Charles Davies; after a conviction** in May, 1889, at this Court. He was on ticket of have, and had thirteen months' to serve.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, May 29th, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
519. CHARLES WHEELER (58) , to feloniously having counterfeit coin in his possession with intent to utter it, after a conviction of uttering on 10th January, 1887, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted. JENNIE ST. GEORGE YEAMAN. I am barmaid at the Falstaff, Eastcheap—on May 6th I served the prisoner with 3d. of whisky—he gave me this florin—I saw it was bad, and went to the tester—he ran away—I ran out after him, and pointed him out to the porter—he either dropped something or picked something up—he was brought back to the public-house and charged—he made no answer.
ARTHUR SOAPER (City Policeman). On Saturday, May 6th, I saw the prisoner running—he was stopped by the Monument, and Haygarth said he was wanted at the Falstaff—I took him there; he was charged, and said nothing—he was charged at the station, and made no answer.
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that he received the coin in change for half a sovereign the night before, in Leadenhall Market.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted. EMILY WATHAM. I am barmaid at the Plough, Fore Street—on April 29th I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, price Id.—he gave me this
florin—I saw it was bad, and bent it on the counter till it broke—I asked him if he knew it was bad—he said, "No".
GEORGE JAMES . I keep the Plough—on April 29th the last witness called my attention to a florin—I saw the prisoner and said, "Did you tender the barmaid a 2s. piece?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "It is bad"—he said he did not know it; he got it from a tram conductor in change for a half-crown, which he tendered for a 2d. fare, and had been to the hospital to have his foot dressed, but they were too busy—I let him go—I saw him next at Worship Street last week, with five or six others, and recognised him.
FLORENCE HAWKES . I am manager of the White Horse—on May 9th the prisoner came in and asked for half an ounce of tobacco, and tendered this florin—I found it was bad, and he gave me Id.—he said he had it given him in change on a car, as he had been to the hospital—I communicated with Mr. Leach.
AUGUSTUS ARTHUR LEACH . I am manager of the Variety Theatre, Hoxton—on May 9th Mrs. Banks showed me a florin, and I asked the prisoner how he accounted for having it in his possession—he said he had received it from a tram conductor, and had been to the hospital, and showed me his foot—she said that he paid for the ale and returned the tobacco.
The prisoner, in his defence, slated that he got the coin on a tram, in exchange for halt-a-crown.
GUILTY **—Nineteen convictions were proved against the prisoner, but none of them related to Mint offences— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
ELIZABETH HALLOWAY . I am a dressmaker, of 155, Lever Street, St. Luke's—on March 18th the prisoner purchased a handkerchief and a bit of lace, value 2d., and gave me a florin—I put it in the till and gave him the change, which was all the money I had in the till—later in the day I sent my little brother to get change for the florin at Mr. Ring's shop, and afterwards Mr. Ring came and said that the coin was bad—six weeks afterwards I saw the prisoner in a public-house opposite, and told a policeman, who took him in custody—I am certain he is the man.
Cross-examined. I do a pretty good business—when I saw the prisoner go into the public-house six weeks afterwards I sent my sister for a policeman, and watched till he came out, and gave him in custody—I saw him in the street before that, but could not see a policeman—when I saw him in the public-house I said, "That is the man, because he has a white apron; the person who gave me the florin had a white apron.,
to get a florin changed in March—I took it to Mr. Ring's, and they gave me change.
HARRIET RING . On a Saturday in March I changed a florin for the last witness, and put it into the till—there was no other florin there—later on my father took it out of the till, and I made a statement to him.
ALFRED RING . I keep a general shop—on March 18th I examined the till and found a bad florin—there was no other florin there—in consequence of what my little girl said I went to Halloway's shop and showed it to them—I afterwards took it to the station.
EDITH HUNT . I live at 11, Peabody Buildings, and am assistant to Mr. Rowland, a dairyman, of Clerkenwell—the prisoner came to the shop for two penny ducks' eggs, and gave me a florin—I said, "I have not got sufficient change"—I tried it in the tester, and found it was bad, and he ran out with sevenpence which I had put on the counter—I ran after him, but lost sight of him—I picked him out from a lot of others at Old Street last Friday.
Cross-examined. That was about five weeks after I saw him, but I had seen him a week before looking in at the window, and I noticed his face.
By the JURY. He was not wearing a white apron when I saw him at the station.
TIMM KIRK (Police Sergeant), On April 10th the last witness came to the station and gave me this coin, and the girl Hunt gave me a description—the prisoner was afterwards taken and placed with ten other men, and she picked him out readily—he said nothing.
CHARLES GARLAND (Policeman). On May 11th Halloway called me, and I saw the prisoner coming out of a public-house—I told him that the witness preferred a charge against him of uttering counterfeit coin five weeks ago—he said, "It is a mistake; I am a cabinet maker, and work in Curtain Road"—I said, "Where abouts?"—he made no reply—I said he would have to go to Old Street—he protested his innocence, and ran down a court—I pursued him, another constable stopped him, and he was taken to the station—£3 was found upon him, but no counterfeit coin—he gave a correct address.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM COSIER (Detective. N). On 6th May I was in an omnibus in plain clothes, coming from the Surrey side—the prisoner was in the omnibus—he took a paper similar to this from his left jacket pocket, and I think he took a coin from it, as I saw one in his other hand—I
jumped out of the omnibus and followed it in a cab till the prisoner got out in Gracechurch Street—a procession came by, at the end of which were two City detectives, and the prisoner darted behind a urinal—I ran after him and said, "Denny, I want that coin"—he kicked me and swore at me—a constable came to my assistance—he fought for about twenty minutes, and put his hand in his pocket and took out this coin, which he threw away—White picked it up—after some time the prisoner was exhausted, and handed me this parcel, containing ten counterfeit coins, folded up separately—I said, "Denny, you will be charged with the possession of these things; what you say I shall give in evidence, do you wish to say anything?"—he said, "Yes, you put those there", but in reply to the inspector he said that he picked them up.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was in the omnibus when you got into it—when I rushed up to you I tried to put my hand in your pocket, and hit you on your head and across your hand.
EDWIN WHITE (City Detective). On 6th May, about four p. m., I was in Gracechurch Street, and saw the prisoner in a crowd watching a processsion—he left the crowd—I followed him, and he was taken in custody—I caught hold of his right hand, but he got it into his waistcoat pocket and threw this coin on the ground—I saw Cosier take another packet from his left hand—he struggled very violently with both of us, and another constable who was called—I took the coin to the station and marked it.
Prisoner's defence. I picked up the packet by the Recreation Ground and got into the omnibus and examined it, and found they were counterfeit. When I got out I was stopped by the officer. He struck me on my head and hand. I told him if he would put his truncheon away I would walk quietly, but he would not. It is a made-up plan for me to get me into trouble. If I had been out of the omnibus I should have destroyed the coins after I found they were bad.
NOT GUILTY .
FLETCHER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. TURRELL Prosecuted.
CHARLES EVANS (City Policeman 923). On Saturday night, May 13th, I was on duty in Devonshire Square at 11. 30—I heard a smashing of glass, and saw Sawyer look round the corner—he said something and walked towards me—I said, "What are you doing there?"—he said, "We have just got over the gate"—I was taking him back and Fletcher came by—I caught hold of him and said, "What are you doing there?"—he said, "We have just got over the gate"—I said, "You will have to come back"—I found two shutters taken down, the glass broken, and two helmets and a hat and cap lying on the ground—I took them to the station, where this cap was found on Fletcher—nothing was found on Sawyer—they gave their address at the Salvation Army shelter—the gate is closed at nine p. m., and opened in the morning—nobody has any business down there at night.
Cross-examined by Sawyer. I do not remember Fletcher saying at the station that it was his fault that you were there.
MOSES HARRIS . I am a costumier, of 5, Bores Passage—these hats and helmets are mine—they are worth about 5s.—my shutters were smashed and my windows broken—the shutters were bolted and barred at nine o'clock—they had not been open for two years—when I next saw the place the window was smashed and the shutter-bar broken off.
Sawyer's statement before the Magistrate: "I had nothing to do with the affair. I came to London, and this man took me round the town. I asked him to show me where there was a urinal, and then I found he had taken one of the shutters down. I said, 'You fool, you are caught now.' The policeman arrested both of us".
Sawyer's defence. This man said at the station that I was not there.
GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. FLETCHER— Eight Months Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 30th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
REYNOLDS received a good character— Judgment respited. VINCENT— Eighteen Months 'Hard Labour.
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted.
HENRY DA COSTA . I am steward at the Spanish and Portuguese Jews' Hospital, 253, Mile End Road—on 11th October I went to bed about eleven, leaving all the doors and windows shut—I was called up by the police about 3 a. m., and found the front door and back window open, and I missed from a tin box in the kitchen two coats and a pair of boots—these (produced) are the boots; I saw them at the Police-court—the prisoner was wearing them.
GEORGE GODLEY (Detective J). On 21st October I saw the prisoner; he was wearing these boots—I said, "Where did you get these boots?"—he said, "I bought them in the Lane"—I said, "When?"—he said, "A. week ago last Sunday"—that was the 9th, two days before they were stolen—I said, "Who did you buy them of?"—he said, "A stranger; I gave him four shillings for them"—I said, "They are the proceeds of a burglary, and you will be charged with stealing them"—he said he knew nothing at all about it—he afterwards said, "I know the man who did it; if I was out I could find him; he lives at Aldgate".
Prisoner. I know nothing about the burglary—I bought the boots to go to sea with.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MORESBY Prosecuted.
EMILY SMITH . I am the wife of John Smith, of 12, Ware Street, Kingsland Road—on 14th May, about one in the morning, I was in Great Eastern Street—I was stopped by a female with a baby in her arms—the prisoner was on the opposite side of the road with another man; he came across, pushing his cap over his eyes and staggering as if he was drunk—he took two shillings and sixpence out of my hand, struck me on the head with his fist, and ran across the road and gave the money to the other man; and he said to me, "If you follow me I will rip you up"—he ran down a street; I followed, calling, "Stop thief!" and he was stopped—I went to the station with him, and he said he would not let me go out of there alive, he would be revenged on me that night.
WALTER WILLIS (108 G). I heard the prosecutrix shouting, "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoner coming towards me; he turned and ran about two hundred yards—I caught him—he said, "All right, governor, you have got me"—with the assistance of another constable I took him to the station—I found a knife on him, and he had this stick down the leg of his trousers.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KYD Prosecuted, MR. D'EYNCOURT Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, May 30th, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
530. ALBERT HOWE (18) , to unlawfully obtaining a watch and other articles by false pretences; also to stealing two blank cheque forms, the property of Alfred Austin; also to feloniously forging and uttering an order for £27 10s. with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.
531. MARY LOUISA JAMES (54) , to stealing a pianoforte, the property of Frederick Lindsay: also to forging and uttering a receipt for £36 with intent to defraud; also to obtaining £12 from Edwin Arthur Long by false pretences— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
532. GEORGE ROBERTS (18) , to unlawfully obtaining goods by false pretences; also to forging and uttering a request for the delivery of spoons and forks; also an order for the delivery of seven card-cases, with intent to defraud— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
POLLY JONES . I am barmaid at the Swan, Sloane Street—on March 28th I served the prisoner with some liquor; he gave me a half-crown—I could tell by the feel that it was bad, and I took it to Mr. Fay, and then went back and told the prisoner it was bad; he said he was not aware of it, and paid me with good coin, and I gave him the bad one back, and he left.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not take it to the till—you
stayed there between five and ten minutes—you had ample time to walk out of the bar before I came back.
GEORGE AVORY (44 C R). Mr. Fay gave the prisoner into my custody—he said, "Why did not you give me in custody before? Why did you follow me here?"—I searched him at the station and found a half-crown, two shillings and fivepence halfpenny, and this counterfeit half-crown—he was taken to the Westminster Police-court, and there being only one I littering he was discharged.
Cross-examined. You told me you got it at the Oxford Music Hall—I took you about a mile from the spot.
WALTER BROWN . I live at 53, Duncan Terrace, Islington, and am employed at the post-office—on 27 April, about 3. 10. p. m., the prisoner came in and asked for a postal order for 5s., and gave me two florins, a shilling, and a penny—I examined the money and found a bad coin placed below a good one—I said, "That will make up for the bad one you passed on me a month ago"—he said he had not been in the office before—he was detained till Mr. Page, the superintendent, came, and was then taken to the station—he asked for a 5s. postal order on the previous occasion, and paid with the same kind of coins, and one florin was bad; it was black, and I broke it in the tester—the colour came off—no one had been to the till between my placing it there and giving the order—I cannot say whether there was any other coin there—I broke it five minutes afterwards and threw it into the fire; it melted—this is the coin of April 27th; I handed it to the police.
Cross-examined. You told me you would not go out of the office without your money—you said you would not leave till a constable came, but you had no option—you waited about ten minutes before the constable came—I telegraphed for the manager, but he would not charge you—it was between nine and 9. 30 when the charge was booked against you, six hours after the alleged uttering—you told me you should certainly wait till the constable came—if you wished to go out you could have done so before 11 could have left the bar.
Re-examined. There were three of us in the office.
FREDERICK YATWELL (548 S). The prisoner was given into my charge at the post-office—he said I did not know I had any bad money on me, I must have got it at Gatwick race meeting on Monday—he gave his address at the Post-office, Blackfriars, and at the station he said Ted-mouth Street, Gray's Inn Road—I found on him a four-shilling piece, four half-crowns, two florins, two shillings, two sixpences, and twopence halfpenny, all good—Brown gave me this coin; I marked it at the time.
GEORGE CRESWELL (Detective Sergeant). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in and charged—he gave his address, 2, Sidmouth Street, first, and he said he was known at 20, Temple Street, Elephant and Castle, and Portland Buildings, Edgware Road, and 3, London Street.
Cross-examined. You were at Sidmouth Street four days, and Temple Street was where you lived before—another was your mother-in-law's, address.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to H. M. Mint—this half-crown and florin are both bad—it is usual to put a black substance on bad coin to give a tone to it—a bad coin will run through a fire.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that lie did not know the coins were bad; that lie kept the first coin to take it back to the Oxford Music Hall, where lie received it, and that he received the second coin from a bookmaker. He stated that lie could easily have escaped in each case had he known the coins were bad.
NOT GUILTY .
ALFRED JAMES SQUIRE . I am a butcher, of Well Street, Hackney—on May 12th I was at Smithfield with a horse and cart containing three forequarters, two dead calves, and some pork, value altogether about £38—I left the cart in charge of a cart minder, and when I came back it was. gone—I informed the police at Snow Hill, and afterwards saw the cart there.
NORMAN EDWARD WOOD . I am a butcher, of Long Lane—I was at Smithfield, and heard of this cart being missing—I ran home, got my bicycle, went to Tabard Street, and met the prisoner driving the cart, in a sweating state—I collared him, we had a severe struggle, and both fell off the cart together—he said, "I will give up; I am done"—I gave him in charge—there was another man with him, who ran away.
Cross-examined. You did not say you were taking it home; you were going right away from the shop.
FRANK GIRDLER (395 N). I was in Tabard Street, and Wood gave the prisoner into my custody—I took him to Southwark Station, and then to Snow Hill—on the way he said, "I should not have taken it if I had not been drunk; I stopped the pony as it was running away. I got up on the cart and was going to drive it home to earn a few shillings"—he gave his correct address.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that lie was taking the cart home out of kindness.
N. E. WOOD (Re-examined). All the meat was in the cart; nothing was lost—he had not passed the shop, he was three or four doors from it—it was nearly four o'clock when I stopped him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HOWELL Prosecuted.
HENRIETTA FITZGERALD . I used to live at 4, Stanley Gardens, Acton—the prisoner was in my service two months—I am always receiving letters from India, and those which contain money are registered—I am positive I did not receive a registered letter on January 9th, nor did I sign a receipt for one, or authorise the prisoner to sign for it—the receipt (produced) is for a letter addressed to me, and delivered at 4, Stanley Gardens—I did not see this receipt on January 9th—I know the writing—I have never seen the prisoner write, but I have received a letter from, her—I did not authorise her to sign this receipt, and I never got the letter—she left on February 10th or 11th; and in consequence of a
letter from my son-in-law in India I made inquiries at the General Post Office, and this receipt was shown me—I went to see the prisoner and asked her to give me the registered letter she had received on January 9th, containing 100 rupees—she said she had not received it, and that she always brought my letters up to the bedroom for me to sign for.
JOHN COUSINS . I am a postman at Acton—I see this receipt for a registered letter for 4, Stanley Gardens, on January 9tb—I delivered it to the prisoner, and she took it indoors and brought it back signed—I took it to the office and forwarded it to the General Post Office.
EDWARD BADCOCK (Police Sergeant T). On 16th May I took the prisoner at Leman Street Station and said, "I shall take you for stealing a letter from your mistress at 4, Stanley Gardens, Acton"—she said, "All right, I know nothing about it"—I took her to Shepherd's Bush Station and she said, "I signed the receipt, and gave the letter to my mistress".
Prisoner's defence, I said if the signature was my. writing I suppose I must have signed it, and of course I should hand it to my mistress. When I receipted it I had no idea I was doing wrong, nothing had been said to the contrary. I must have laid it down, and it must have got muddled away. I never had the contents. When Mrs. Fitzgerald communicated with me I immediately sent her my address.
The prisoner. All you said was that I had left you three months, and if I did not send for my boxes they would be sold I never dreamt there was any charge against me, and I said, "If you must sell my things pay the profits to my parents, as they are of no value to me. "I have signed a great many receipts before.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 31st, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. PROSSER Prosecuted, and MR. PIGOTT Defended, at the request of the
ANNIE VOWLES . I live at 50, Oxford Street, Stepney—I have known the prisoner some time—we worked together as waitresses at the Three Chimes eel-shop, 120, Whitechapel—when I left on 9th April last year I left her there—I saw her next about October at the Pavilion Theatre—I noticed her condition then, and I asked her if she was pregnant—she denied it—on Tuesday, 28th March, she came to me—she said she had come out for a holiday, that she was in the service of the prompter at the Pavilion Theatre—she came up to my room, the front room upstairs, and sat down—there was a knock at the street door, and I asked her if she would open it—she went down, and went into the yard—in about ten
minutes she came up and asked me for a pail—I told her to take one, and asked what she wanted with it—she said she was not very well—I advised her to see a doctor—she said she would not; she would stop and see how she went on—in about fifteen minutes she came up again and sat down, and read a letter that came from abroad—she said she was all right then, and would not go to a doctor—my little boy aged five came into the room and said in the prisoner's presence, "Mamma, Agnes has put a rat in the dustbin, and it has got feet on it like a baby"—I asked the prisoner to come down and show me where the rat was—she said, "I shall not go down, there are rats in every house"—my little boy took me down and the prisoner followed—we went to the dustbin—I did not see anything, and I asked her what she had done with the rat—she said she had slung it over the wall—I said, "What did you throw it over the wall for?"—as I came away I noticed that she seemed very funny, and I said, "Agnes, you have been confined"—she said, "No I have not", but when I told her I should call in the police she admitted that she had had a child—when I was coming away from the dust-bin I heard a faint moan, and I said, "Whereabouts in the dustbin is it?"—she said "It is all right"—she took hold of a garden-rake, and raked the dirt off the baby—I could not see it before she did that—she then took hold of the baby by the thick part of the arm, and threw it on to the ground—I told her to pick it up—she said, "You pick it up"—I said "No, you put it there, you must pick it up"—she did pick it up, and put it in a piece of brown paper—she had left her clothes upstairs, and she asked if I would let her go and get them—I said no, she might send the landlady's daughter up for them—she put a soft jacket round the baby, and ran out of the house—I did not see the baby again till the inquest.
Crass-examined. I only worked with the prisoner four weeks—that was fourteen months ago—she came to see me last May—the dust-bin was open at the top; there was no lid to it—the child was in the ashes as deep as my arm—she had to lean over it to get the child—she seemed very excited—she did not seem to know what she was about.
EMMA HANKER . I live in the same house as the last witness—on March 28th, between one and two in the afternoon, I saw the prisoner there—she came into the kitchen and asked me for a pail of water—I gave her the pail, and she went into the yard and got the water, and started scrubbing out the w. c.—she then went to the dust-bin—she had an iron rake in her hand, and was raking over the dirt in the dust-bin, and I saw the child—she threw it out of the dust-bin into the garden—it was alive—she put it in a piece of brown paper and went out of the house—I followed her down several streets, and in Brady Street gave her in charge to a policeman—I had never seen her before.
Cross-examined. I gave her in charge because I did not know where she was going or what she would do with the child—it was about two inches in the dust; the bin was about half full—she seemed excited, as if she did not know what she was about—the baby was covered with dirt and ashes—it cried all the time when it was taken out.
said, "Nothing"—I undid it and found it contained the body of a child—it was rolled up in the paper, and its feet were hanging out; it had ashes and cinders in its mouth—I took the prisoner to the station, and she and the child were taken to the infirmary.
Cross-examined. It had no clothes on—the prisoner seemed quite sensible—after she got to the station she seemed dazed—she said she would like to walk to the infirmary, but she was taken on the ambulance.
JOHN KNOX . I am an M. D., and am medical officer of Bethnal Green Infirmary—the prisoner was brought there on 28th March, about half-past two in the afternoon—I examined her; she had been recently confined, and was weak and exhausted—I saw the child; it was covered with dirt, cinders and ashes, and was perfectly black—it was a fully-developed female child—after being washed there was found a slight bruise on the left side of its forehead, its left elbow, and on the outer side of the left foot, and a few slight superficial scratches on its body; otherwise it did not seem to have suffered from its treatment—it lived twelve days in the infirmary, and then died of infantile convulsions—the prisoner did not nurse it; she had no milk—I made a post-mortem; it died from natural causes—the prisoner gave the name of Fanny Hill—there were no signs of the child having been suffocated—it breathed quite freely and naturally.
Cross-examined. A sudden confinement like this would bring about temporary excitement and loss of control—suspended animation would give the appearance of death—the death was not in any way accelerated by this exposure—I think the bruise on the forehead was caused by a fall when delivered.
GUILTY of the attempt to murder.—Strongly recommended to mercy ou account of her excited condition of mind at the time. A lady from Miss Ford's Reformatory and Refuge undertook to take care of the prisoner for six months, and to obtain a situation for her.
Discharged on her own recognisances.
537. ANNIE LOVE (33) , Feloniously throwing corrosive fluid upon Joseph Love, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. MR. ABINGER Prosecuted, and MR. ALDERSON Defended at the request of the COURT.
JOSEPH LOVE (City Policeman). I live at 44, Gutter Lane—the prisoner is my wife—on 19th April I went out with her about ten in the evening for orders, having been appointed acting sergeant, transferred. from Cloak Lane to Bridewell; that is from the fourth division to the third—my wife had a great dislike to my going to the third division—she was in a very depressed state about it—she is a jealous woman, and she was afraid, there being so many girls there, that there would be no more happiness—previous to this we had lived pretty happily together—we had little differences, but on the whole we lived pretty happily—we returned home about a quarter to twelve—we went straight upstairs, I turning the gas out as we went up—I went into the bedroom and got into bed—we had been discussing this fresh appointment during the whole of the two
hours we were out together—I tried to pacify her, telling her there was no reason why she should dislike it, in a friendly way—we had no quarrel—she came up with me, and I got into bed—she complained of feeling sick, and said she must go to the w. c.—she was partially undressed—she had one or two skirts on—she went into the kitchen—she was away about a minute—a gaslight was burning in the bedroom—she returned into the room—the bed was behind the door—I looked towards her; she took up her hand and threw the contents of a jar into my face—she was about three or four feet from me—she said, "Now you will not go to the third division"—I immediately got up, and took a jug of water off the drawers and threw the contents of it into my face—I then shouted to the girl, who was sleeping in the kitchen, to bring me some more water—my wife said, "Don't take him any water"—I went into the kitchen and threw another jug of water into my face—I drew it myself from the tap—I was in great pain, it was burning frightfully—I then went back into the bedroom, dressed myself, and ran into Cheapside—a hansom cab was passing, and I got into it and drove to the hospital—my wife was at the bottom of the stairs leading up to our quarters—our place is on the fourth floor—we had no conversation—I know that vitriol was used in the house, it had been there for a considerable time—it was used for cleaning the w. c. pans, there being large lavatories in the building—I was sober—the prisoner was also sober, to all appearance—we had had a couple of drinks each while we were out—I am told that the sight of my right eye is permanently gone—my wife has been suffering from neuralgia very severely for two or three weeks—she is naturally of a very nervous condition—I do not remember her saying anything about it that evening.
Cross-examined. We have been married just over eight years—we have one child—we have always led a happy life, with the exception of differences' which I suppose exist in all families—I had nothing to drink till I went out with her at ten—what she had had I don't know—I was out on duty all day—I did not come home till half-past six—we had no dispute when we came home at ten—she only said she was never more disappointed in her life at my going to this other division, and she would sooner see me dead than go—I tried to allay her disappointment—I have not the best of tempers; we are both rather hasty—she went into the kitchen and returned in about a minute, came round the door, and threw the contents of the jar in my face—the bed was the first thing she would come to—there was a chest of drawers in the room; the jar was not on them, for I had placed the jug of water there, wound up my watch, and laid it there—she had never tried to do me any harm before—I may say that I quite forgive her for the offence, and I hope you will be merciful to her.
FREDERICK HALL (City Policeman 539). On the night of 19th April I was on duty in Gutter Lane—as the prosecutor came in with his wife I had a chat with him—they seemed to be on very good terms—about twenty minutes later I saw the prisoner standing at her door—she said she had thrown the vitriol in her husband's face—I asked her how she came to do it—she said he had the pot in his hand, and was about to throw it in her face, but she knocked up his arm and it went in his own—I afterwards arrested her and told her the charge, and asked what she
did with the vitriol—she said she had it for cleaning purposes—she was very excited.
HUGH STACK , M. D., L. R. C. P. I am ophthalmic house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's—I first saw the prosecutor about half-past twelve on 19th April—he was suffering from severe burns to the right eye, also to the right arm and chest, from corrosive acid such as vitriol—the sight of the eye is quite gone—there is no chance of injury to the other eye.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 31st, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
538. ANDREW GABRIEL O'MARA (32) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully assaulting Jane Elizabeth York, and occasioning her actual bodily harm.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. There was another indictment against the prisoner for the manslaughter of the said Jane Elizabeth York, which was not proceeded with.
SUSAN HEATH . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 2, Clairville, Hanwell—on 14th he came home about 3. 30 p. m., and I opened the door to him—he came in and I asked him to come to dinner—he called me a bad name, and went upstairs to our bedroom and called me up—I did not go up—he then came to the middle of the stairs, about half way down, and I noticed that he had a revolver and was pointing it at his head—he said, "Come and say good-bye"—I saw his hand move, and immediately went into the dining-room, and the revolver went off and struck the wall two or three yards from me—I went out of the house and called a neighbour in—on my return the prisoner was in my bedroom, standing by the door, and taking his hand from a tin box in the room—he did not say anything—I again asked him to come to dinner—I informed the police the same day between four and five o'clock—after I returned with the neighbour, Mr. Halker, the prisoner went out at a little after four o'clock and came back alone in half an hour—I opened the door to him; he swore at me—he was the worse for liquor, he had been so all the time, and I thought for my safety and his I had better go for the police, and left the house—he said in his excitement that he would blow my brains out—he had nothing in his hand then, but I saw that he had the revolver in his pocket.
Cross-examined by MR. BODKIS. We have been married twenty-three years, and have eight children living—he has been a good husband and father—he had a sunstroke some time ago, and since that he has had to be very careful what he takes to drink, as very little excites him—he is not a man to drink, only occasionally—a very little drink gets into his head—there is no doubt he was drunk—this was on Sunday—when I asked him to come to dinner he refused—I was by the dining-room door when the shot went off, and the bullet hit the wall on the opposite side
quite two yards from me—I thought the best thing for him was to go out for a walk and get sober—the neighbour is not here—when he said, "Come and say good-bye", I did not speak—I did not see him point the revolver at me, but I thought he did from the fact that the bullet came down in my direction—he went out for a walk with the neighbour, taking the tin box with him; it is about the size of a large cash-box—he was about three-quarters of an hour, out for a walk—when he came home he said he would blow my brains out, but he did not take the revolver out of his pocket—he was in such a state of drunkenness that I thought he required protection for himself, and I fetched the police—I was before the Magistrate the next day, and he was remanded for a week, and taken to Holloway—I am sure he will never do it again—he came and lived with me and my six children when he was out on bail, and since he was committed for trial he has behaved kindly to me—he was always kind when he did not drink—he was in good work at Mr. Odell's, and earning good wages—on the day before this we had been out together and had a happy day—the bullet was in the wall, about a foot from the ground—the skirting board is about half a foot high, and the bullet was about two inches above it.
JOSEPH JARVIS (464 X). On the 14th, about 3. 30 p. m., Mrs. Heath made a communication to me—I knocked at the door, and asked the prisoner to let me in—he refused—I was in uniform, and he saw who I was through the window—I told him I should have to break into the house, as an information had been laid against him—I went round to the back of the house with Policeman York, and got through the back window into a parlour and then into the passage, and saw the prisoner sitting in the front dining-room—when I entered he stood at the table with a six-chambered revolver in front of him—he seized it with his right hand, and did not speak, but rushed from his chair into a corner of the room, placing the revolver behind him—I seized him by his right hand and took it from him; three chambers were loaded and one had been recently discharged—he was very drunk—he was charged with shooting at his wife—he was not in a condition to make any reply.
Cross-examined. He appeared dazed.
EDWIN DIGBY (Police Sergeant). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I took the charge—the revolver was handed to me; it was loaded in five chambers, and one was exploded—I went to the house and found a bullet in the wall exactly opposite the dining-room on the left side of the passage—there is a landing on the staircase.
Cross-examined. If the prisoner was eleven steps up the staircase he would be in a straight line with the front door; there would be no turn on the stairs there—he would be to his right for the dining-room door, and to his left where the bullet struck—he works for Odell and Son, and I believe he bears a good character so far as his employment is concerned.
Re-examined. He is a sober man usually, but he gets drunk occasionally.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "The revolver went off by accident".
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted.
JOHN JACKSON . I am a carman, of 15, Haslewood Terrace, Kensington—on 18th May, about 7. 30, I was going over the bridge at Harrow Road—I saw the prisoner walking across the wharf with a child in her hands—she walked into the canal and threw herself on her back with the child on her breast—she was three or four yards from the bank and in five or six feet of water—I saw her fetched out.
FREDERICK FARRANT . I am a waterside labourer, of 128, Kensal Road, Paddington—on 18th May, about 7. 30,1 was standing at Collins' Wharf—a tramcar was passing, and the people shouted—I looked towards the canal, and saw the prisoner floating on the water with a child on her breast—the water is 6 ft. deep there—I jumped in and fetched them out—I rubbed the child and held it, and asked the prisoner what she had done it for—she said she was in trouble—I took her to a doctor—they were not very long in the water, but they were both under water before I got to them.
ALFRED STOKES (518 X). On 18th May I was on duty in the Harrow Road—my attention was called to the canal by people on a tramcar—I got through a hole in the fence, and saw Farrant bringing the prisoner and her baby out of the water—I accompanied them to Dr. Griffiths', and then home, and after the prisoners clothes were changed I told her she would be charged with attempting to commit suicide and to murder her baby—she said, "I must have been silly; this is all through a little trouble, a little debt"—she was charged at the station, and made no reply—she fainted, and was assisted to a chair—I should say she was sober, but she seemed a bit dazed.
ALFRED LEATH GRIFFITHS , M. D. I live at 606, Harrow Road—on May 18th a boy about a year and eight months old was brought to me with his clothing wet—I was going to perform artificial respiration, but he cried so vigorously that it was not necessary—he has received no injury from the immersion, but he is a very weakly child—I also saw the prisoner—she was wet.
SARAH FULLER , I am the wife of Charles Fuller, of 152, Kensal Road—the prisoner and her husband lodged there—they have only this one child—on May 18th she left the house about 7. 30—she had no hat on—I had seen her during the day—she had had a little drink—she was in monetary difficulties; she pledged a thing or two—her husband paid the rent—he is a porter, in pretty regular work.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour The COURT commended Farrant's conduct.
MR. STEVENSON Prosecuted, and MR. JOHNSON Defended.
ANNIE STUBBING . I am the prosecutor's wife—we lived at 115. Canterbury Road, Kilburn—on Thursday, May 25th, my husband came home between three and four p. m. and used a bad expression, and said he meant finishing me—I said nothing, but ran away; he was very drunk—I ran upstairs and he came up after me—I went into the back room, and he began again, and kept beating me and dragged me downstairs—I ran up again screaming, and three policemen who had been fetched came—I would not charge him, and they went away—I went in and shut the back-room door, and tried to persuade him to be quiet—he went to a drawer-and got a knife—I ran upstairs; he followed me, and said, "You b——cow, I will finish you"—I fell on the landing and he knelt on me, and I felt him cutting my throat—Mrs. Nottingham, who lives on the first floor, opened her door, and then I fainted—a policeman was fetched—we have been married four years last March.
Cross-examined. We have always lived on friendly terms; he has not always been a drunkard, but he was in the habit of getting drunk when I first married him—I know his mother; I am not always on friendly terms with her—he had slept at her house on the previous day, Tuesday—there was no quarrel on the Wednesday—this happened on Thursday—I was not out of my own home that day—I drank a glass of beer at a public-house that day—Mrs. Graham was in my company, but none of the other witnesses—I was perfectly sober—I am drunk occasionally—I was not speaking to him about his mother when he came in that day; her name was not mentioned—there was a struggle between me and my husband—I did not make a very strong reference to his mother—he cut my neck with a knife; I have not sworn that it was with a razor on this occasion—I remember making a deposition; I then swore that he took a razor at three a. m. to cut my throat—he came home at seven o'clock—I have made a mistake; it was Thursday morning that he threatened to cut my throat—I saw the open razor, but he did not use it—I ran out of the room—I have no family—I paid the rent that week, and got it marked on the book—the book is not here.
ELIZA NOTTINGHAM . I am the wife of Henry Nottingham, of 115, Canterbury Road—we live on the floor above the prisoner and his wife—on the 25th May, a little before dusk, I heard Mrs. Stubbing call out "Murder! he is cutting my throat"—I unlocked the door, and saw her lying with her head towards my door, bleeding, and the prisoner standing on the top stair with a knife in his hand—Mrs. Wade and Mrs. Chapman were in my room, and the prisoner said to Mrs. Wade that if she came out he would serve her the same.
Cross-examined. I have lived in the house with these people eight weeks—I did not know much of Mrs. Stubbing—I have never seen her drunk—I have heard them quarrel—I had not seen her that day.
ELIZABETH WADE . I am a widow, and live on the floor above the prisoner and his wife—on May 25th, in the afternoon, I heard them quarrelling, and before he came home she said to me that she should be frightened if he came home—I heard him come home; they quarrelled, and I heard a noise, fighting—I went down and saw him hitting her and she hitting him—I cannot say who struck the first blow—she had a black eye when I fetched the policeman the first time—he dragged her down
stairs by the arm—three policemen came, but she declined to charge him—I went to Mrs. Nottingham's room, as the wife told us to go upstairs and mind our own business—Mrs. Nottingham locked the door and locked me in, and some minutes elapsed when the prisoner's wife ran upstairs saying, "Open the door! he has murdered me; he has cut my throat!"—she screamed "Murder!"—I begged Mrs. Nottingham to open the door, and then saw the prisoner's wife lying with her head towards it, and the prisoner on the top stair—he said if I came inside he would serve me the same—I should say two hours had elapsed since I saw them fighting, but I had no clock.
Cross-examined. The first struggle was with their hands only—I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand—they were two or three minutes at the top of the stairs before the door was opened—I never saw Mrs. Stubbing to speak to her till last Wednesday—I swore before the Magistrate, "The prosecutrix had not been drinking with me all the week".
R e-examined. I was asked if she had been drinking with me all the week, and I said "No".
MARY KATE CHAPMAN . I am the wife of Thomas Chapman, of 91, Canterbury Road—I was in Mrs. Wade's rooom when Mrs. Stubbing came up crying, "Murder! he is cutting my throat!"—we opened the door, and I helped her up and put something round her throat, which was bleeding—I saw the prisoner go downstairs—I did not see whether he had anything in his hand.
Cross-examined. I swore at the Police-court, "I saw the prisoner going downstairs with a knife in his hand"—that is true, he went straight downstairs with his right hand down—I cannot swear that there was a knife in it—I have known Mrs. Stubbing long, but never saw her drunk—I saw the bed; it was totally dry.
Re-examined. When the policeman came the knife was found in the prisoner's room, in a pail of water.
FRANCIS CARLTON EVANS . I am a surgeon, of 221, Carlton Villas, Kilburn—on 25th May I was called to the Police-station, and saw Mrs. Stubbing suffering from a black eye, and from a wound across her throat, more of the nature of a scratch; it penetrated the skin; it bled very little—if it had been deeper it would have severed the jugular vein, which would have been fatal—this knife (Produced) may have caused it.
Cross-examined. The skin is about one-sixteenth of an inch thick before you get to the jugular vein—a determined man could have cut her throat with this knife if she did not resist, but the back of it is much sharper than the front—she might have struggled, and it would depend upon the position.
Re-examined. It was most likely inflicted from behind, but it is impossible to say.
THOMAS MCBEEF (210 X). I was called to 115, Canterbury Road, went to the top landing and saw the prosecutrix lying there, bleeding slightly from her throat—she said she wished to give him in custody for cutting her throat—he was on the second floor—I took him to the station.
JAMES LOVELACE (Police Sergeant, 63 X). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I charged him with attempting to murder his wife by cutting her throat—he said, "I shall not say anything, time
enough when I get down there", meaning the Police-court—a constable brought a knife, and she said it was hers.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "When I went home on Monday night I found my wife drunk in bed with her clothes and boots on, and the bed-sacking wet where she had wetted herself. The book was not signed. She had taken the wedding-ring off her hand and pawned it".
ANNIE STUBBING (Re-examined). When my husband came home on Monday night I was not drunk—I was in bed, but I had not my clothes and boots on—the bed was not wet—I had not my wedding-ring on; I had taken it out of pawn, and had it on my finger on Monday night.
GUILTY* of wounding, with, intent to do grievous bodily harm. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 31st, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. BURTON Prosecuted; MR. WILLES appeared for Keeble; and MR. PURCELL for Piggott.
SPENCER CHARRINGTON . I live at Hunsdon, Hertfordshire—at 12. 15 a. m. on 19th May I left the House of Commons and was going along Parliament Street towards the Grand Hotel, Charing Cross, where I was staying, when I met six or eight men coming in the opposite direction, who caused a slight stoppage in the street—in passing through them one of the party put his hand on my arm, and with the other hand wrenched open my waistcoat and tore away my watchchain, and rushed across Parliament Street, dodging between some cabs and vehicles passing—he escaped—some of the other men walked straight on—the prisoners were all of the party—they were all collected round me—I did not observe the prisoners' faces before my chain was snatched—I am sure they are three of the men—on losing my chain I found myself surrounded by the men, amongst whom I recognised the prisoners—after the man ran across the road the prisoners walked on together towards the House of Commons—I stopped, and the police came up and followed them, and stopped them when they had gone about twenty yards, and they were taken to the station—I followed the constable—I think the other men had disappeared then—the men surrounded me and pressed round me, and gave an opportunity for the man who stole my chain to seize hold of me—the chain was worth £10—I found the watch afterwards in my pocket.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. This took place exactly opposite the public-house, at the corner of the street which leads to the new police offices—after the man who took the chain had run away the prisoners
walked on for about twenty yards, and were then stopped by a policeman—I feel no doubt about the three prisoners being there—I think it would be under a minute from the time they met me till they left me—the others moved quickly away.
Cross-examined by Bartlett. I feel satisfied that you were one of the party.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. After the man who took my Watch got across Parliament Street, I could not see where he went to—I saw him no more—it was at the moment that I passed in between some of the group of men coming towards me that the man snatched my chain; my attention was taken up mainly with him, and then I turned and saw that the others had walked on, and were about twenty yards off—if the thief had returned to the side of the street where the group was, I should have seen him—he did not return—he was a much taller man than the others—no other men were with the three prisoners when they were stopped—I heard that Piggott had worked casually for Messrs. Cassell
Re-examined. The prisoners walked on; I don't think they ran.
ALFRED PARR . I am a hawker, of, 10, Park Place, Carlisle Street, Lambeth—on May 18th I was in Parliament Street,-going home, about 12. 15, and opposite Old Scotland Yard I saw the prisoners and eight or nine men together, going towards the Houses of Parliament—they gathered round Mr. Charrington, who was coming in the opposite direction; there was a bit of a stoppage, and then they all scattered in different directions, two or three together, and I heard Mr. Charrington call out, "They have got my watch!—I was two or three yards from him—two policemen came from the other side, and ran and took the three prisoners, who were walking on together—I swear they had been in the party of men.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. The men scattered just before Mr. Charrington called out—one man ran across the road—the three prisoners were alone when the policemen went up to them, twenty yards from the public-house—I saw Keeble outside Scotland Yard; he turned round—I noticed them before, because they got round another man who was drunk just by Horse Guards Avenue—I am positive I saw Keeble.
Cross-examined by Bartlett. I will swear you were amongst the crowd.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I did not see a little boy near; I saw no one at the time but the prosecutor and the group of men—I followed them from Old Scotland Yard to the lion—there were only about nine men, not a dozen—when I first saw them, near Old Scotland Yard, I thought they were larking together, and all going home; they were all talking and laughing together—I did not think they were thieves, I thought they were only larking when they stopped the drunken man.
RICHARD THOMAS (89 A R). On May 19th I was in Parliament Street, and on the opposite side of the road I saw ten or twelve young men apparently larking—I went over to see what was the matter, when they all made off in different directions—the prosecutor called to me, and told me something, and then I went after the three prisoners, who were walking together, and got in front of them, when Keeble said, "I am not the man"—that was before I said anything—I took Keeble, another constable took Piggott and Bartlett—Piggott bobbed his head when the
constable came up, but he took him by the collar—Bartlett and Piggott said afterwards, "We are not the men"—Keeble went with me to the station quietly—Mr. Charrington came up and charged the prisoners with being concerned with someone else in stealing his chain—they were going towards Westminster Bridge when we arrested them; they all said together that they were going home as soon as Mr. Charrington came up—when charged, Bartlett gave the address, Finsbury Street, New North Road, Islington; Keeble gave 27, Warren Street, Tottenham Court Road.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. I found 27, Warren Street, was Keeble's wife's address, and she told me he did not live with her—the prosecutor did not shout out, "You have got my watch", till he called me over the road.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Piggott gave the address, 20, Charles Street, Westminster Bridge Road—he lives there with his parents—he was going in that direction—he told me he had been working at Messrs. Cassell and Company's as a printer's labourer—the other constable made inquiries—when I got across the road all the ten or twelve men had got off the pavement, except the prisoners—before Piggott bobbed his head the other officer had come suddenly behind Bartlett and seized his collar—that was the only attempt Piggott made to get away—after the prosecutor came up and complained, they said, "We are not the men; we were going home".
By MR. WILLES. Keeble's wife told me he had never lived at 27, Warren Street—I made inquiries about him, and found he has always been a respectable man; he has had several shops in Lambeth—he told me that latterly he had worked at tailoring—other constables knew him as a dealer about the place; they do not know anything against him.
ARTHUR GLEADLE (13 A R). I was on the opposite side to the Red Lion on this morning, and saw nine or ten men walking by, and apparently larking—I heard a man call out, "That man has got my watch"—the prosecutor was standing with his coat and vest undone, and his umbrella raised as if to strike the three prisoners, who were walking rapidly away together—I saw a man run behind a cab, and other men running back towards Charing Cross—I ran across the road, and seized Bartlett by the collar from behind; as I did so Piggott ducked, but I seized him, and took them to the station—in answer to the charge Keeble and Bartlett said they were innocent—Piggott made no answer.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. On the way to the station Piggott said, "I am innocent; I was not with Keeble"—he said he was with Bartlett, and they were going home—he gave me a correct address at the station—he told me at the station he had worked at Messrs. Cassell's—I went there and found he had worked as a casual labourer since May 4th—he worked there at night time; he would go at night and be taken on when he was wanted, and come back when he was not wanted—I found he joined the Printers' Labourers' Union on 1st May—I found out nothing against his character.
THOMAS DIVALL (Detective Serjeant M). I have only just identified Piggott—he was convicted about twelve months ago of assault and sentenced to six weeks or two months' hard labour—he has also been charged with desertion—I also arrested him and his two brothers about two years ago for garotting a man—the prosecutor was an old man, and
failed to identify the prisoners, and they were discharged at the station—one of his brothers is now doing nine months' hard labour for burglary—up to 1st May he never did any work; he has lived, with a prostitute in Joiner Street, Westminster Bridge Road, off and on, for two years—I have heard he was convicted at Croydon of an assault, in another name—he was the associate of Balch, Waller, and Noble, who were tried here last November, for the manslaughter of Dr. Kirwain in the Borough, and who were sentenced, one to twenty years' penal servitude, and another to fourteen years' penal servitude—he is the associate of thieves—Sergeant Gentry and I have been on the look-out for the prisoner for a considerable time; we have had numberless cases of garotting—the prisoner is now wanted fob desertion from the militia; he was gazetted in the Police Gazette last August, and I have not seen him since then—I have been in conversation with his confederates.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I am very often in the Westminster Bridge Road—I think Piggott is a little more than nineteen; I have known him since he was quite a lad—I have been looking for him since he was gazetted last August—I knew it was no use going to his father's house, because if you inquire they say that he lives there, but he never does—I made inquiries and found he had moved from Joiner Street; no one knows where he lives—I went to Joiner Street once and found his brother with two prostitutes in the room, and Piggott had got out the back way—he has four brothers—I have not been to Holloway Prison for a month or more—it is the duty of detective officers to go there to see if they can identify prisoners, if they are not engaged otherwise—the policeman in this case told me in the Court that he had made inquiries about Piggott—I have only told him since he gave evidence what I know about Piggott—I came into this Court when the tot constable was giving evidence—my colleague was here when I came into Court—I told the policeman when he came out of the box that something was known against Piggott—Piggott has been twice convicted at Southwark Police-court in my presence, once for assault and once for failing to make his annual training in the militia—that was last spring.
SIDNEY GALE . I live at 27, Greatorex Street, Rochester Row—I am a messenger boy to the Central News—about 12. 15 on 19th May I was coming back from work, and passing the Red lion. Parliament Street, I saw a party of about ten or twelve men, and one of them snatched a gentleman's chain and ran behind a cab, and when the gentleman was watching which way he went he ran into the crowd again, and they walked quickly away—the three prisoners were in the party of men.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. The crowd ran away all in the same direction.
Cross-examined by Bartlett. I did not say at the station that you three were three or four yards from the others.
Keeble, in his statement before the Magistrate, said he was innocent, and that he had always worked hard; Bartlett said that since his conviction in 1884 he had worked honestly, and that ha was innocent; Piggott asserted his innocence.
Bartlett, in his defence, said that since his conviction of nine years ago he had got an honest living; that on this night he went out with Piggott to look for work; that they met Keeble, whom he had not seen far some time, and
were stopping talking to him when they were arrested; that they had walked with the crowd, hut not mixed with it.
KEEBLE— NOT GUILTY .
PIGGOTT and BARTLETT GUILTY . The JURY recommended Bartlett to mercy He then pleaded guilty to a conviction of felony in March, 1884— Ten Months' Hard Labour. PIGGOTT**†— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, May 31st, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
545. ARTHUR MARKHAM (45) and HENRY WILSON (35) PLEADED GUILTY to conspiring to defraud John Kembell and Edmund Lindsay of their moneys; and Markham to uttering two and Wilson to uttering three forged receipts,
MARKHAM** having been convicted of felony at this Court in May, 1889, and WILSON** at Rotherhain in July, 1887, of obtaining goods by false pretences— Ten Years' Penal Servitude Each.
MR. MORRIS Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
ALBERT BARNETT (343H). About one a. m. on Sunday, 23rd April, I was standing at the corner of Greenfield Street—I followed an old gentleman and a woman to Whitehall Court, in Greenfield Street—I saw two men and a woman come up Guildford Street—as they went through the court about two minutes afterwards I heard someone crying for help—I ran up Greenfield Street and saw two women and a man pass—looking down Guildford Street I saw two men kicking the man who was lying in the road—as the prisoner passed me I caught him by his handkerchief and said, "What's the matter?"—he said, "Nothing; you have made a mistake"—I said, "Let us see what mistake is made", and took him up to the old man who appeared unconscious, but immediately he saw the prisoner he said, "That's him, hold him"—I saw the prisoner through the court kick the prosecutor—he was the last to run down Guildford Street—the prosecutor was taken to the station, and I took the prisoner to the station, where he was charged with robbing the old gentleman of £7 and a scarf-pin—he made no answer.
Cross-examined. I was forty yards from the men—I could not recognise them—I was not a minute getting up to them; I was suspicious and ran round the corner—there is a dead wall at the end of Guildford Street—the prisoner gave an address at a lodging-house about ten minutes from Guildford Street—I was near the lamp, fifteen yards from the corner, and in a doorway, when he kicked the old man, who was dazed, doubled up—from his manner he had been drinking.
By the JURY. The prisoner appeared to be looking for something on the ground, and was with his back to the prosecutor, who appeared to be trying to get hold of him, and he kicked him as he ran past, when a window, about thirty yards off in Guildford Street, was opened—the prisoner was then three or four yards from the prosecutor—he kicked the
prosecutor as he was running—the street is very narrow—the prisoner ran in my direction, not seeing me.
JOSEPH ALBERT CURTIS . I am a commercial traveller, of 56, South Road, Upton Park—on Sunday morning, 23rd April, I was at Aldgate—I spoke to a constable—I was looking for a cab—I had a conversation with a woman—I walked with her to a court in a narrow street—I, felt an arm round my neck—I saw two men and one woman—they put me on the ground—I had a fearful blow in the face—I shouted as well as I could—I can scarcely remember anything else—I believe the prisoner was the man I had hold of—I was robbed of £7 in silver from my trousers pocket and a scarf pin—I had had a glass, but knew what I was about—I was kicked in the ribs, and had to stop in bed four or five days—my throat was very sore the next morning, and for two or three days afterwards—when I regained consciousness I had three or four threepenny pieces, some small change, and some gold, in an outside pocket, which was not touched—I believe the prisoner is the man, I won't say positively.
Cross-examined. I had had a glass, or I would not have gone with the woman.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
THOMAS BRAMBLE . I am a hairdresser, of 63, Plaistow Road, West Ham—I know the prisoner by sight—he came to my shop on February 13th, and asked me if I should like to insure my place—I said I had thought about it—he took a similar book to this out of his pocket, with a red shield on it, belonging to the Royal Insurance Company—he said he was agent for that company, and it was one of the best in London—he put it quickly in his pocket—he surveyed my premises and goods—he came back into the shop and said, "Our firm say you must pay a shilling to insure your furniture, because some refuse to take up the policy when I return"—I gave him the shilling and asked him for a receipt—he gave me this. (A printed proposal form, on which was written, "Amount, £65; business, £35.—J. HUDSON. Deposit, one shilling")—I did not know that was not a Royal proposal form.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not say the policy would be like the contents of that paper—you said I would have the policy in a fortnight's time—you did not mention any other name.
WILLIAM DENNINGTON . I am head of the agency department of the Royal Fire and Life Insurance Company—the prisoner ceased to be an agent of the Royal in February, 1890—this is not our proposal form—we have no agent called "J. Hudson"—if this proposal were a genuine document of our company, and one shilling paid to our agent, that would cover the insured until the policy was delivered or the risk refused—the prisoner had no authority to represent himself as an agent of our company on 13th February, 1893, nor to receive money on our behalf, nor give a receipt for us—no communication has been made to us with reference to a proposal by Bramble for insurance in our company.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. A proposal form and a receipt for a deposit are not the same—if our agent had taken a deposit and signed a receipt for it on a proposal form he would have committed the company
—this is a letter from our secretary, Mr. Duncan, to you of 19th July, 1889 (Addressed to 128, Blackfriars Road, Norwich, expressing satisfaction with the prisoner's conduct, and a hope that fie would obtain the position he sought).
Re-examined. We were not prepared to give the prisoner such a testimonial at the time we discharged him—he was removed owing to moneys received on account of the company not being accounted for.
HENRY WHITEHEAD (Detective H). On 18th May I had a warrant to arrest the prisoner—I went to 4, Victoria Road, Tottenham—the prisoner opened the door—I asked if Mr. Hardy was in—he said, "No, he has been gone away some days"—I said, "Oh!"—he said, "He has gone away and got an appointment"—he asked me my business, and said if I left my name he would let me know when he heard from him, and that he owed him rent—I asked him his name, and he said, "Harcourt"—he showed me this paper, stating that he was agent for a debt collecting firm—"Mr. C. Harcourt, 4, Victoria Road, South Tottenham", is on it—I saw Mr. Broadhead at five o'clock the next morning, and returned with him to 4, Victoria Road—Mr. Broadhead identified the prisoner—I arrested him—I read this warrant to him—it charges him with obtaining money from Mr. Broadhead—he said, "Yes, I had the money; I was working for Messrs. Tremaine and Piper, of West Green Road; I meant to try and get them through the London and Lancashire"—he was taken to Leman Street Police-station and charged—he said, "I have a complete answer to the charge"—I found on him these forms signed "J. Rutsen", "J. Hudson", and "Lionel Nugent"
Cross-examined bg the prisoner. You brought the forms to the station—you said, "Had not we better take these papers?"—I was not angry when I came to you in the morning—I said, "You served me a nice trick last night"—you opened the door at once; I directed you to do so—you explained your conduct the previous night by saying it was late, and you were afraid of upsetting your wife and family, and that you were just going to bed, and you thought it would upset her dreadfully to be taken in that manner—I had all the names—you told me of several, but there are none here you spoke about—some were at West Ham, but they are not people mentioned in these cases—you at once admitted the deposits, and said, "I accept without fear the result of the investigation"—you went to the Police-station; you were bound to—you gave me your testimonial—I put it down when I read it.
The prisoner called JABEZ PIPER. YOU were working for my firm at Christmas—in conesquence of that I arranged you should have the first year's commission—a week or two afterwards you brought me a batch of proposals from Tottenham—you did not ask if you might take proposals from other parts—you asked if I was restricted to Tottenham when you brought a long list—that was the first I knew of them—you left a list with me, which I said I would consider if I would go round and see them—after a month I said I was sorry I had not been, and that we would drive round together—I
did not after another week express myself ashamed to see you.—I may have said, "Really, Mr. Hardy, I am ashamed to see you"—that Was not upon this list—that was not in consequence of my not going to see the people, but in consequence of the policies not having been accepted by the office—you were laying the blame upon me—I never apologised—I had not been round because, as I pointed out, I did not like to accept them, because they were all out of the district—I appoint sub-agents—the company did not know it—they know it now—you got eighteen proposals—ten were accepted—the value of the premiums is 26s. 3d.—I have paid you 3s. 6d. commission, 15 per cent.—Is. 6d. is still due to you; you have not applied for it.
Cross-examined. The prisoner never applied for an insurance to be effected by Bramble—Bramble's name was never in any list he sent me.
Re-examined. You did not say you were getting more proposals. The prisoner, in his defence, said the only reason for signing "J. Hudson" and so on was in order to insure the people taking up the policies. If he had signed his own name the company would have said, "You are not our agent" and he was thus between the two stools of this charge or losing the business through Mr. Piper's neglect He took proposals for oilier companies. He had no receipt forms but only prospectus forms of the Economic, and told the insurer, "I do not think this will cover you; I give you this as a matter of form until you get your policy", and the proposal forms were only for his own use.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
MR. BIRON Prosecuted.
GEORGE EGGINTON WHITEHEAD . I am a commercial traveller, of 7, Parade, Cardiff—I was present on 29th September, 1880, when the prisoner was married to Ruth Sanders at Christchurch, Burton—she was my mother's sister—in the autumn of 1881 they left England for South Africa—the prisoner afterwards returned to England, leaving his wife out there—in 1890 I saw the prisoner on several occasions at Burton-on-Trent—we frequently spoke of his wife—she sent me money for him, and we discussed about their rejoining—I know my aunt's writing quite well—this letter of June 24th, 1890, is her writing—it begins "My darling Monte", is addressed to the prisoner, and was sent to me by him enclosed in this letter of July 19th, 1890—I also produce a bundle of letters marked and received from 1890 to 27th November, 1892, by me from my aunt, and I have received one since—I received this letter in May, 1891, from the prisoner, in which he alludes to his wife as alive, and says he has no intention of deserting her.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. My aunt did not possess property when you married her—she brought me up and my brother—in 1890 you asked me to cable a word to your wife—I did not do it—I did not suggest it was better for both you should not meet again.
EMILY BIDDLE . I lived at 119, Mercer's Road, Tufnell Park—I formed an acquaintance with the prisoner in the autumn of 1892—for some time he was paying addresses to me—on 22nd November I was married to him at St. John's, Clerkenwell—this is the certificate—since the prisoner has
been committed for trial I received this letter from Holloway Prison, beginning, "My dear lost wife", and stating, "I am not going to excuse myself at all; I shall plead guilty to-morrow on the 1880 marriage"—at the time I married him I was employed as a teacher in the Board School—I have since lost that position.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The evening you were arrested you said to me, "You are my legal wife"—you treated me very kindly.
Re-examined. I understood he was a bachelor.
RICHARD MACEY (Sergeant Y) I went to 119, Mercer's Road, Tufnell Park, and arrested the prisoner—I waited till he came home in the evening—Miss Biddle, Miss Emerick, and others were present—when he came in he said to Miss Emerick, "Holloa, you are here; what brings you here if I see, you are come to get me into a nice mess"—there was some further conversation, and she said, "I am your wife; I have a right to be here"—I took him into custody—he was charged with feloniously marrying Miss Biddle, knowing that his first wife was really living—I merely knew of his relations with Miss Emerick and Miss Biddle—he said, "My marriage with her was a mock marriage in America, and she is not my wife"—I took him to the station, and he was charged.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not notice you point to Miss Biddle and say, "That is my legal wife"—you wanted to know if I had a warrant—I said it was not necessary, as it was felony—I objected to your going out of my presence, but you were well dressed, and had no occasion to change your clothes.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he married his first wife, who was only two years younger than his mother, through his relations' talk, and he had a letter in the States telling him of his wife's death.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June 1st, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. DRUMMOND Defended.
HANS SHAND . I am one of Mr. Gladstone's private secretaries—on Wednesday morning, April 26th, I found amongst the letters addressed to Mr. Gladstone this (Produced)—it had come through the post—I put the envelope in the waste-paper basket—having read the letter, I handed it to Mr. Lyttelton—the envelope contained this card—I threw the envelope away before I read the letter.
SPENCER LYTTELTON . I am private secretary to Mr. Gladstone—this letter was handed to me by Mr. Shand on the morning of April 26th—having read it, I at once sent it to the Detective Department, Scotland Yard—Mr. Gladstone was at Downing Street on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in that week, going backwards and forwards to the House.
the front door—as a rule he came in by the garden entrance from St. James's Park—on Monday, the 24th, Mr. Gladstone went to the Levee.
GEORGE LIVERSEDGE . I am a gunmaker and manufacturer, of 13, Broad Street, Sheffield—the prisoner was in my employment for about three years, up to Saturday night, April 22nd—he was employed by me as a shopman to manage a branch shop that I had—he lived with his wife and family—I did not find out his address until after he left—on Monday, the 24th, I first learned that he had gone away—I have revolvers similar to this (Produced) at the shop in the Haymarket, which the prisoner managed for me—there is no number on it; there is nothing by which I can identify it as coming from my stock—each weapon has a ticket on it, which bears a number corresponding with the number in a register that is kept by me; when the ticket is withdrawn there is nothing to earmark it—there is no number on the cartridges, but as a rule they are Ely's cartridges—we have revolvers similar to this now in stock—the cartridges are difficult to swear to; we are not supposed to open the cases at all—the cartridges have Ely's name on them—this box (Produced) contains cartridges of the kind we keep—we swear by the box, not by its contents—the box has Ely's name on it—there is a stamp on cartridges of a larger size, not on these which are not used for shooting, being so small.
By the COURT. The chance of shooting straight with such a revolver as this would be rather remote; it might or might not hit at five yards—it is more a toy—the price of it would be somewhere about 8s. 6d. or 10s. 6d.
By MR. GILL. I did not know that the prisoner had a revolver—I have produced some memorandum books which the prisoner kept for his own guidance, memorandums of the sales at the shop.
Cross-examined. I knew nothing of the prisoner before he entered my employ—this was not the first time he had disappeared from his work—the first time he disappeared was about two years ago, to the best of my recollection—he disappeared without any warning—he stayed away from seven to ten days—he left no message or letter for me—he sent me a letter by post from Liverpool, I think, that was in his handwriting, during his seven days' absence—I have not got the letter; I can remember the principal portion; it was a rambling sort of letter in which something was said about shooting Lord Carrington, but I took little notice of it; it was something like that he had followed Lord Carrington about for three days, intending to shoot him—I don't know what position Lord Carrington held in Australia at that time; it was about two years ago—I understood that the letter said he had followed Lord Carrington about some time previously—I was perfectly satisfied with the prisoner as a servant—occasionally I found him of a rather peculiar temper, but I left him to himself—I thought it might be duo to some little family quarrel; I never heard of any; he had only himself to fall out with—I thought at times that there was something wrong with his health, and I have told him, "If you feel out of sorts let me know, and go into the country"—indeed, I have gone so far as to offer to pay his-expenses, if he would do so—I was not brought much in contact with him; I only used to call in casually in passing his place—I did not have him constantly under my observation.
Re-examined. I only knew from hearsay that he had been in Australia
—he told me so himself—I do not know when he returned from Australia.
By the JURY. Q. Is the revolver a serviceable one? A. It is a toy—if fired close enough it might be fatal, but as a weapon, if I was going rabbit shooting, I should not take it—I should not expect to get a thoroughly good shot with it—it is a Belgian weapon; it is a dangerous one—if a person intended to take the life of another with it, in all probability it might do it, if he got near enough.
By MR. DRUMMOND. The prisoner had access to all the revolvers in the shop, to some of the finest weapons made at the present day.
HENRY SAVAGE . I live at 13, Terminus Road, Brighton—I am the lavatory attendant at the Brighton Station—on Sunday morning, 23rd April, shortly after eleven, I remember the prisoner coming and speaking to me—he asked me for a respectable lodging, and I said, "You had better go to my house"—I sent him there—I saw no more of him till he was arrested.
MARY ANN SAVAGE . I am the wife of the last witness—on Sunday morning, 23rd April, the prisoner came to my house—my husband had sent him—he asked for a bed—I told him he could have one—I asked him how long he was going to stay—he said for one night he thought, but he was not quite sure—he came in and washed, and changed his cap, and went out, and remained till half-past seven in the evening—he said he was tired, and thought he should turn in—he said he had been travelling a great deal—he asked to be called on Monday morning, and he left about nine o'clock—he had a small bag with him, and a brown overcoat.
Cross-examined. I did not see much of him—he seemed tired, and seemed to sleep heavily—he did not complain of being ill—he was much refreshed after his night's rest.
THOMAS WEST (357 A). On Monday and Tuesday, 24th and 25th April, I was on duty in Downing Street in the morning and afternoon—about twelve on one of those days I noticed a hansom cab standing on the south side of the street, a few yards from the front door of No. 10—I passed the cab two or three times—I saw a man in it, as if sitting waiting for somebody to come out of the Foreign Office—I saw him get out of the cab and dismiss it, and then walk up and down the street on both sides—the prisoner is the man.
JOHN MILLER . I am night watchman at Samuel Morley's Temperance Hotel, Lambeth Road—on Monday night, 24th April, the prisoner came there with a small bag, and took a bedroom—he slept there on Monday and Tuesday night, paying for the room each night.
HERBERT JOHNSON (554 A). On Wednesday night, 26th April, I was. on special duty at the tack of Mr. Gladstone's house in Downing Street—my beat extended from Treasury Passage round to the Downing Street steps—Treasury Passage goes under some of the houses in Downing Street from the Horse Guards Parade; it is closed at ten at night, and the gates at the top of the steps are closed at ten—about ten minutes to twelve I was standing in the shade at the angle of the wall—I saw a man come across the Horse Guards Parade from the direction of Carlton House Terrace—he passed where I was, and walked towards Downing Street steps—as far as I could see he did not notice me—when he had gone some eight or nine yards I called out to him; he stopped when I
called out, just underneath the lamp, about fifty yards this side, of the steps—I called out, "You can't go that way, the gate is looked", and immediately he turned round towards me, and fired one shot from the revolver—I stepped back and peeped from the corner, so as to be under cover, to get out of his way; as I aid that I noticed him coming towards me—I stepped from the corner to a small tree about five yards from where I was standing first, and as he was just getting on to the corner I saw him put his hand underneath the right-hand tail of his jacket; thinking that he had put the revolver away, I made a small circle round to get at the right-hand side of him—I was walking rather quick so as not to excite his attention—I did not know whether he could see me or not, and when I got to the right-hand side of him I threw his right arm over his left shoulder and clasped him round the body, and felt the revolver in his pocket—he said, "It's all right; I don't want to shoot you, policeman"—asked him what he was doing with it—he said, "I was only just having a look at it and putting it straight; I generally carry one when I come across a place like this"—I told him I should take him into custody for firing this revolver off—he said, "I hope you won't say I tried to shoot you, policeman"—I blew my whistle, another constable came, and we all hree went to the King Street Station together—on the way he kept on saying, "It was an accident"—he was charged at the station with wan tonly firing the revolver—he said, "Not wantonly, accidentally"—the revolver is a five-chambered one; one chamber was empty; five had been loaded and one was discharged—at the station I searched him, and took from his pocket this memorandum-book; he took it out of my hand and handed it to the Inspector, saying, "You might as well keep this".
Cross-examined. When I took the prisoner in custody he was perfectly cool, until we got near the station, and he said, "I hope you won't charge me with shooting you"—I did not answer him at the moment, and he said it again—I said, "I am not sure about that; I am not going to charge you if I am not sure"—he said, "That's all right, because it was an accident".
By the JURY. This is the revolver that I took out of his pocket. By the COURT. Birdcage Walk is open all night—he was not going to Birdcage Walk; he was making for Downing Street steps.
GEORGE CUDDY (Inspector A). I was at King Street Station when the prisoner was brought in—he was charged under the Police Act with wantonly discharging firearms—he said, "Not wantonly, accidentally"—he handed me this memorandum book and I produce it—in consequence of what he told me I went to Morley Hotel, Lambeth Road, and in a bedroom there I found this box of cartridges; there were forty-five cart ridges in it.
WILLIAM MELVILLE . I am an Inspector in the Criminal Investigation Department—on the 11th May, the day the prisoner was remanded to I saw him at Bow Street—I told him he would be charged with sending a letter threatening to murder the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone; at the same time, I said, "This is the letter"—he replied, "Yes, that is my handwriting right enough"; he then paused for a second or two and added, in a low voice, "But I know nothing about it"—I had this memo randum book in my possession at the same time; it has at the beginning
the name and address of "W. H. Townsend, 17, Hyde Road, Sheffield"—he said, "That is my address, and that is also my handwriting".
The letter to Mr. Gladstone woe read as follows: "MR. GLADSTONE,—Do drop that cussed Bill. Say something about it in the House to-night, I am going away to the country. You gave me such a shock yesterday, looking so cheerful and happy—such a look of my own father. A quiet day with Nature will quiet my nerves. I had never seen you before. Tour appearance compelled me to raise my hat in respect. I had been waiting for you since morning. After reading the news on Saturday, I left my home, wife, and little ones. If you are removed, 'the bill is dead as Queen Anne. 'Was in Brighton on Sunday, expecting to find you there. If it had not been for my sudden revulsion of feeling, nothing could have saved either of us yesterday. I could have fired six shots before anyone could have had a hand on me. This is to give you another chance. I have such a high opinion of your cleverness that I firmly believe that if you so will it that Bill will become law in spite of Salis bury, Balfour, Chamberlain, and the Lords. But it shan't, if by taking one life or two (yours and mine), I can save the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands of loyal Ulstermen. Surely that is a sufficient justification. Shall look anxiously in to-morrow's paper for an answer. (Signed) W. H. TOWNSEND."
On the back of the letter: "If a secretary opens this, and decides not to show it to the old man, he will be inflicting a great injury upon him." The card bore, on it the name of a keeper of some dining-rooms at Brighton.
The following extracts from the prisoner's memorandum book were read:—"Left home the first thing to-day. Yesterday I watched the entrance from a seat opposite nearly the whole day, which I wasted through being afraid of raising suspicions by making inquiries. I must not do so again. A few inquiries save a lot of time, but I must keep cool. This strain on my mind is terrible. Poor Emma, I wonder how she is to I hope that I shall get it over quickly, then she will know the worst. The revolver sticks a bit. I must manage with five cartridges; surely that will be sufficient for us both I cannot draw back now; I must do my duty. Tell Mr. Liversedge that I have served him faithfully. I am now in a hansom waiting for the.—" "12. 30 p. m.—There is no sign yet; I have waited for more than an hour." "Tuesday, April 25th.—I hung round Downing Street nearly the whole of yesterday. I saw an old gentleman in uniform come out of No. 10, but I took very little notice of him, although I learned afterwards that it was really him. About 4. 30 p. m. a private carriage drove up, and an old gentleman drove away in it. That was him, too. I was close to him when he got in, within eight yards, and very few people were about; but I was so surprised at his appearance that it gave me quite a shock. He seemed so happy and cheerful, and had such a look of my own father that, instead of doing as I had intended, I felt com pelled to raise my hat in respect to his cheerful nod and smile. I then hurried away into Hyde Park, and, dropping into a chair, I never moved for two solid hours, indulging in a silent weep to relieve my nerves." "Wednesday, April 26th.—There is no sign of an answer to my note. I expect that they would not allow him to see it, or else he puts me down as a mad Orangeman, and of no account; but we shall see".
MR. DRUMMOND, for the defence, called the following witnesses.
FRANK TOWNSEND . I live at 173, Thelwall Road, Sheffield—I am the prisoner's brother—my father is very ill, and unable to attend—the pri soner is thirty-six years of age—he left school at the age of sixteen—he was then apprenticed to Messrs. Turner, Taylor and Marples, of Sheffield—he got on well there, also at school—he was a boy of intelligence, and passed several examinations with credit and honour—in the spring of 1877 he suddenly left his employment and enlisted as a soldier—after four or five months he was eventually bought out, and he returned to Messrs. Turner's—next year he married his cousin, Emma Townsend—I believe he lived happily with her—I never knew or heard of any quarrel between them—between that time and 1882 everything went on quietly—in March, 1882, he suddenly left home, leaving a letter saying that he was going to South America—he gave no reason for it—he left no provision for his wife and children—he did not in fact go to South America—he turned up in Sydney, South Australia—we heard of him there about two months after he left home—he sent a telegram to his wife, with the single word "Hope", no name or address—he afterwards wrote to the effect that he had obtained a good situation with a firm in Sydney—in December, 1882, he returned to England—in the following February he went out to Sydney again, taking his wife and children with him—we heard nothing except what was satisfactory for some time, he had obtained the situation,—while in Australia he disappeared several times—eventually he dis appeared again, leaving his wife and children unprovided for in Australia, and in July, 1888, she returned to England with her children, and without him—she did not know where he was—I don't think he used to write to her—she went to live at Kenilworth—I next saw the prisoner in October, 1889, at my father's house at Brentwood—he was then in a very poor condition as regards clothes and appearance—my father supplied him with money, and he tried to obtain a situation—a few days afterwards my father received a letter from him; I saw the letter—it was in my brother's handwri ting; the purport of it was that he had lost all his money, and he was going to take a walk through the Endcliff Woods in Sheffield, which we construed to mean that he was going to commit suicide—there are several dams of water in those woods—he saw his wife for one night at Kenilworth—he went to Pontefract and slept in the workhouse while there—he afterwards reappeared at my father's house in a much poorer condition than before—my father took him in, and in the course of a few weeks he entered the employ of Mr. Liversedge—he attended to his business there with regularity, and in April, 1891, he disappeared from there without any warning—he sent a letter to my father—I took it out of the letter-box and opened it; it was in my brother's writing—I have not got the original, it is lost; I took a copy of it at the time, this is it: "April 27th, 1891,—Dear father, old John knows nothing about your visit last night. However did you manage to get in? When I awoke and found you at my bedside I was astonished, but understood everything you said, as well as your wishes. Although he may have escaped in a court of law, however will he manage to get away without being seen? I will follow him from Birkenhead side; he shall not escape. You must explain my absence to the boys: better say Emma is ill, and I have had to go to her. I will be very careful; I
can put back the revolver into stock when I return. Good-bye. The money I have in hand will see me through. "We understood that letter referred to his cousin, Walter Townsend—there is no truth whatever in the suggestion in that letter that my Cousin Walter had robbed my father—my father had not been to visit him that night—the letter is a pure delusion—he was sleeping a mile and a half away from him at the time—this was in April—after Mr. Liversedge took him back, until just lately, things were going on fairly quietly—owing to these disappearances and for other reasons my father had the prisoner examined by a doctor, with a view of discovering his mental condition; that was in October, 1889—the doctor is present who examined him—I know nothing of my own knowledge of his state of health at the beginning of last April—these disappearances occurred at the time his wife was going to have a baby—he was in a state of anxiety—he was on good terms with his wife, and was very fond of his children—he was of temperate, sober habits, and has always been so—his grandmother on my father's side, and his uncle on my mother's side, both died in lunatic asylums.
Cross-examined. One died at Haddon Asylum, near Warwick, and the other at the Asylum near Worcester.
OLIVER BARBER , M. D. and M. R. C. S. of England. I live at Sheffield—I have known the prisoner's family between eighteen and twenty years—I have attended his father for that time—I have had opportunities of observing the character and conduct of the prisoner—I can quite corroborate the history of his life as related by his brother; I have known him all the time since his first lapse—in October, 1889, and at other times his father consulted me with regard to him—in consequence of that I examined him with regard to his mental condition—he was then at his father's factory; he is a jet ornament manufacturer—he had suddenly arrived from Australia, at eleven at night, at his father's house, dressed like a tramp; and I saw him next day at his father's request, at the factory—I had a general conversation with him—he did not appear to be at all alive to the seriousness of having left his wife and family in Australia totally unprovided for—he did not appear as if he could assign any reason—I knew of his delusion with regard to his cousin—from my examination of him I could find nothing definite to act upon; to fix upon to control him—we all hoped for the best—I did not consider that he was a person of clear intellect, and have never done so for a good many years—I should say he has a brain of very great instability, and that, for the time being, he had become temporarily insane—there is a form of insanity which is called "recurrent moral mania", which comes on in fits, leaving the patient with impaired intellect, rendering him, whilst the fit is on him, absolutely unaccountable for his actions—at other times he would be able to act like other men to a certain extent—when the fit is over he would be likely to forget what had passed—a sudden interruption of the mania would have a tendency to pull him together, but I think he would scarcely remember what he had been doing—the fact of the prisoner's grandmother and uncle having died insane would lead one to expect to find such symptoms—I attended his mother in March, 1884, for brain irritation, congestion, and coma; not what I should call insanity, pressure of fluid on the brain—I think she would have had softening of the brain had she got better of that attack; it leads to softening of the brain—
I saw a great deal of her, I was her medical attendant—she was a woman of very well-marked intellectual power, but very eccentric and odd in her manner; she had a very great fear of dying in a lunatic asylum, and she begged if she was dying not to be put in an asylum, as her brother was—I have seen the prisoner this morning—from what I have seen of him my opinion is that he has a growing weakness of the brain; he is of a very weak physical constitution, and although I have not had an opportunity of examination this morning, I believe he has a tendency to spitting of blood, which is one of the features to be taken into consideration in insanity—I should say that his intellect is clear now; I think he could reason with me now, but if I was to ask him why he did any particular thing that he had done, I do not think he would be able to give me any reason for having done it—if he said he did not remember it, I should believe him—looking at him now I should think that he had passed through a very severe attack of moral mania—he has been in gaol some weeks, and I sup pose he has had very good diet—on a patient suffering in that way, quiet and good diet would have a good effect, better than it appears to have had on the prisoner.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of Holloway Prison—during the time the prisoner has been there I have had frequent oppor tunities of seeing him—I have heard the evidence of Dr. Barber, and the family history given by the prisoner's brother—to a very great extent I agree with what has been said by Dr. Barber—I am strongly of opinion that the prisoner is of impaired intellect—I agree with Dr. Barber that a person suffering from fits of recurrent, moral mania may afterwards forget what has occurred—the prisoner has been in hospital, and has had every care, and he has improved.
Cross-examined. My opinion would be greatly influenced from the fact of insanity on the part of his grandmother and uncle.
GUILTY of the act, but insane at the time of its commission. Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, BODKIN, and ELDRIDGE Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
The details of this case are unfit for publication.
GUILTY of manslaughter— Two Years' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 1st, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce,
MESSRS. HUTTON and ROOTH Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour ,
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 1st, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. AVORY and BIRON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoner stated, in the hearing of the JURY, that he wished to plead guilty, and thereupon the JURY found him
GUILTY — Discharged on recognizances.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, June 1st, 1893.
Before ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, ESQ.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.
JAMES CONNAL . I am assistant secretary of the London Society of Compositors—that is a registered trade union—among other objects it provides funds for the assistance of its unemployed and superannuated mem bers, no matter what age—an unemployed man is allowed two shillings per day, if he signs a book between nine a. m. and one p. m., as out of employment—the rules provide for the punishment of a man who signs for another—the prisoner was admitted in July, 1889—in May, 1892, he became entitled to its full benefits—ninepence a week was then his subscription—April 9th, 1892, was the first day he took unemployed pay—I did not pay him that day—I produce his signature—I paid him nearly all the weeks he came except when I went for my holidays, one week in October and one week in November—I saw him sign this book (produced) on January 21st and 28th, the call-book—this is the provident signature book, where he puts his initials every day, having first signed his name and the number of his card opposite—he signed all the week, and I paid him on Saturday, 21st January, and 28th January, the full amount—I believed he was unemployed, according to his signatures—he signed all the week ending 14th January, when I paid him twelve shillings, de ducting ninepence, his subscription—I believed he was unemployed that week—he has received from April 9th, 1892, to 28th January, 1893, £21 10s.
Cross-examined. He paid 8d. a week till May last, afterwards 9d.—this is a copy of the rules we give to each member when he joins, and under which we act—I should have paid him twelve shillings if he had earned under four shillings in that week, provided he brought a signed document to show that from the office where he earned it—the rule was extended, granting pay for seven and nine weeks, making sixteen weeks in the year for which he was entitled to receive unemployed pay—the father of the chapel, or body of men, if there is a chapel, signs the docu ment—if the prisoner earned two shillings from his father he ought to have produced his father's signature—it may be the fault of the wording, but that is the spirit of the rule—he was paid nothing the week ending October 15th and 29th, and ten shillings on October 1st—that would indicate he was unemployed five days, or had been unable to sign the
book one day—I always put the question if he has earned anything, and he may answer "No", but he was not able to sign the book—he was paid two shillings the week ending October 8th—he did not earn anything, so he must have excused himself for not signing the other five days—I know that, because I have a column for putting down the earnings—on 19th November he took ten shillings; on 26th November and 3rd December, nothing—I forgot what day I saw Chubb—I have 'said: "I saw Chubb the day before I paid him. I think he told me he had seen the defendant at work. He told me this before I paid the twelve shillings"—I suppose I did see Chubb the day before I paid the prisoner; but it was unofficially outside—I did not put the question to the prisoner, because he signed all the week.
Re-examined. I am not positive I told of Chubb's visit till I had paid the prisoner—if he signed less than a week I put the question—compositors make thirty-eight shillings a week—if he is employed, and does not bring a paper, he is not paid.
ARTHUR CHUBB . I am a member of the Society of Compositors—as requested by the secretary I went to 24, Victoria Road, Peckham, in the week which ended 28th January—it is a private house—I opened the front door, and walked into the basement, where there was a printing-machine—I saw Mrs. Barker, who called her son—I saw "Printing Works" in black letters upstairs and "Printing Works"—I knew it was Barker's, because I was sent there—the defendant came down to the base ment—he had an apron on, with his shirt sleeves tucked up—printers invariably work in aprons—I; asked him whether he could print me some tobacco-papers—he hemmed and hawed, and then said he could not do them; they were done too cheap, at a shilling a hundred—"I said, "Oh, can you print me some gentlemen's cards?"—he said, "Oh, yes, I can do that"—I then asked him to show me some specimens—he sat down behind the counter and drew out a couple of boxes of specimens of cards—I turned them over; I did not see anything I fancied—after some time he said, "If you leave it to me, I'll make a nice job of it, "and he went to the desk and wrote what I dictated—I asked him how much he would charge a hundred—he said, "Eighteen pence"—I said, "Very good. When may I have them?"—he said, "To-morrow"—I came away, and the next day I went about the same time in the afternoon—he came downstairs again, dressed as he was before, with his apron on—I asked if the cards were done—they were brought to me, and I paid for them, and he drew out this receipt (produced) and gave it to me—I came away—I reported to the secretary the result of my visits on the evening of each day.
Cross-examined. I was transferred to the son because his mother beckoned and looked at me, and then I spoke to her—Mrs. Barker handed me the cards the next day—I asked for sixpence change—she said she had not got it, and asked the defendant to give me the change and make out the bill.
Re-examined. I saw the defendant write the written part of the receipt, and apply the stamp.
basement, where the printing machine is—I saw the words "Barker and Co., Printing Works"—the defendant asked me into the type-room—I told him I had a summons for him, and he took it—I knew him—he had his coat off, his shirt sleeves up, and was wearing a large white apron—I had seen him in July last.
Cross-examined. I called between 7. 30 and eight p. m.—I cannot say what time on the former occasion.
CHARLES WILLIAM BOWERMAN . I am Secretary of the London Society of Compositors—the prisoner was admitted a member the end of July, 1889—I was then Secretary of the News Department—a man must be a. member a certain time, according to age, before he is entitled to unem ployed benefit; in Barker's case twelve months—signing the unemployed book is a necessary condition of his drawing the money, as a guarantee that he is awaiting employment—in consequence of suspicions I asked Chubb to go to this place at Peckham—I afterwards submitted the matter to the committee, and then obtained a summons at the Mansion House, returnable on 8th February—I attended—the defendant did not appear—he was called—a warrant was applied for—I knew nothing of his whereabouts between the report to the committee and his arrest—after the report to me I gave directions that no money was to be paid him from unemployed allowance.
Cross-examined. The Magistrate fixed his bail at £20—by the rules a person earning 4s. is entitled to 12s. if he produces a document, or if he is employed one night his earnings are made up to 19s.—unless he signs the book he is not entitled to draw 2s.—we complain of his drawing money when he is not entitled to it—there seems to be a difficulty in getting information, but we ascertained he was at work whilst receiving the money, from Chubb and Fiske, and a previous intimation that he was. working at his father's regularly.
Re-examined. Our Society does not discourage a man getting work, but without our regulations our benefits would be abused right and left—the prisoner said nothing about his earnings—the rule is to produce a docu ment of his earnings, and he is supposed to act up to the rules and be an honest man—we ask the question, as Barker was asked, if he had been unemployed the whole week, and he replied he had—my assistants were there—I instructed Connal—we take the signature as meaning he was. unemployed, leaving it to the man to say if he signed the book, in spite of being employed.
FREDERICK DAVIS (City Detective). I knew that a warrant was issued to Inspector Downes—on 6th May I saw the prisoner leave his father's house in Victoria Road with his wife at 11. 15 p. m.—I stopped him in High Street, Peckham—I said, "I am a police officer; is your name Barker?"—he said "No, my name is Brown—I said, "I have a warrant for your arrest, and you will have to come with me to the City for fraud"—he said, "My name is not Barker; my name is Brown, is not it?" turn ing to his wife—I said, "You are the man I want, and you will have to come with me to the City—he still persisted in saying, "I am not Barker, my name is Brown; if you will come to my lodgings in the Old Kent Road I will prove my identity"—on the way to the City he said, "I am not a compositor; I do not belong to any society"—I said, "This warrant was issued for your
non-appearance to a summons at the Mansion House taken out by the Compositors' Society"—he said afterwards, "I must admit that I am a compositor; I have received money from the society, but as that was. not sufficient to keep a man on, I got a few customers of my own, and mother and father gave me permission to use their machinery and tools"—he was taken to the station, and charged—he made no reply; the warrant was read to him.
Cross-examined. I believe he told the inspector he did not attend the summons because he was at the hospital—I have not inquired about it—I have said:" He said, 'I admit I am a compositor; I was a member of the Compositors' Society, but I am not now'—he said 'Twelve shillings was allowed me when I was out of employment; that is not sufficient to keep a man, so I got a few orders of my own, and my father gave me permission to use his machinery and tools'"—"customers" is the word he used—I had not the warrant—he was serious when he turned to his wife and said, "My name is not Barker, my name is Brown"—it was a quarter of a mile further on he said he was a compositor—going to the City he wanted to go to his lodgings—I have arrested for misdemeanour with out a warrant.
Evidence for the Defence.
REBECCA SOPHIA BARKER . I live at 24, Victoria Road, Peckham—I am the prisoner's mother—when my husband, John Barker, is out, I manage the business—my husband and son quarrelled last year—my son was not regularly employed up to April 2nd—a very serious family quarrel happened, and his father discharged him—that state of affairs continued for some months—I afterwards interceded with his father, and he was permitted to visit—he did no work that I know of for some months after he was forbidden the house—when he returned he was allowed to do odd jobs for himself—on 26th January, about one p. m., a gentleman called—a child was in the shop, and a little boy in charge, who called me from the sitting-room, which adjoins the workroom—I did not see Mr. Chubb that day—my son Thomas Ernest attended to him—my son was working on a job of his own (producing a document) at the time—the order is for 3s. 6d., out of which he paid me 6d. for paper and 1s. for use of type and machinery—he did no other work on our premises that week—I printed Mr. Chubb's cards—this receipt of "R. S. Barker and Co". affects my husband and myself only—I got the 1s. 6d.—my son paid me—I did not see Fiske on 10th January—on that day my son showed me this document which he was working on that evening when Fiske called—I actually printed Chubb's cards—I am a practical hand—my husband was out on both occasions—my son seldom worked on the premises—when he did it was on his own work—he would use our type and pay for the paper—I know he went to the hospital.
Cross-examined. He was an out-patient on 8th February—my husband does the stamp work and I do the printing—he is a compositor—the rent is £32 a year—"R. S. Barker and Co". is outside the house—we have employed four or five compositors at different times when busy—our busi ness is not extensive—we pay. the compositors the proper terms, 36s. or 38s., a week—I do not keep a separate account of my son's orders—my husband travels, getting orders at times—we have agents and a traveller—the traveller does not work in the business; my husband does—we keep this
stamp for receipts—my son did not come to the house almost every day before 8th February—he would come in for an hour or half an hour sometimes—I never took account, because I never knew of this affair coming on.
Re-examined. My son has never been paid 36s. or 38s. a week since he quarrelled with his father in April.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ATTENBOROUGH Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended. THOMAS WARNER. I live at 7, Walbeck Villas, West Norwood—I am employed by Messrs. Stiles and Co., pianoforte dealers—in February, 1890, I was employed by Messrs. Munt Brothers—I managed their business at 67, Kemble Road—on 25th February, 1890, the prisoner came in the name of Henry Jackson, of 3, Tregunter Road, Fulham, pianoforte dealers, and asked to choose a piano—he chose one with the name "Munt Brothers" on the fall, the piece that comes over the key-board, and numbered 5,043—this is the agreement for hire, which he signed in my presence, and under which he had the option to purchase—the amount was forty-eight guineas—he paid £2—the piano was delivered a day or two afterwards—I saw it placed in the van—about three weeks afterwards I inquired at 3, Tregunter Road—I was not able to find the prisoner nor the piano, which I saw at Debenham and Stores six or seven months afterwards—the name was covered over with the name "Rosseneau"—the number was the same—my principals claimed the piano—only the £2 was paid on it.
JOSEPH DEBENHAM . I am a jeweller, of High Street, Beckenham—in January last I managed the business for Barker's executors at 277, King's Road, Chelsea, about half a mile from Tregunter Road—I had seen the prisoner before he came in February, 1890, and asked me to lend money on a piano—I asked him the usual questions, and where the piano was, and he left the address in Tregunter Road, where I followed him in about half an hour—I had a few minutes' conversation with him in the drawing-room—I asked him if the piano was his, and if it was paid for, and he said "Yes"—he asked about £17, and I agreed to lend him £16—he asked if I would like to hear it played—I said, "No, I could see the instrument" but a young lady came and played it—"Rossini" or Rosseneau "was on the label in black and gold'—I told him before I lent the money I should want to see the receipt—he brought this receipt when the piano came the same day (Dated May 3rd, 1889, to Charles Smithy of 3, Tregunter Road, from R. Fisher and Co., New and Second hand Pianoforte Dealers, 28, Burchall Road, for sixty-five guineas, for piano No. 5,043.)—I lent him the £16—I never got it back—the piano was pledged for six months, and when it ran out of time it was entered for auction in Debenham's quarterly sales, at 28, King-street, Covent Garden, where it was knocked down to a man, but before delivery it was claimed by Messrs. Munt, in consequence of which I never got it back.
Cross-examined. It might fetch sixty-five guineas by instalments—I should think that was a little too much—it depends on the conscience of the seller—I never got sixty-five guineas for a second-hand piano.
auctioneers, of Covent Garden—I produce catalogue, which includes a piano received from Barker's, purporting to have been made by "Rosseneau"—on the 18th October we received a letter from John Atten borough to deliver it up to Munt's, to whom it was delivered in cones quence—I made the note on the catalogue.
ARTHUR ELLSTON (Detective Sergeant E). I arrested the prisoner on 26th April—I said, "Mr. Levy!"—he said "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and have a warrant for your arrest for obtaining a piano from Mr. Stiles, of Southampton Row, by fraud"—he said, "Yes"—I read the warrant—at the name mentioned in it he said, "I never used the name of Reynolds"—I said, "You have Captain Jackson"—I took him to Dalston Police-station—I found on him business cards of Levy, three invoice memorandums, which gave an address, "39, Golden Road"—he admitted using the name of Jackson.
GUILTY of uttering. There were two other indictments against the prisoner.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Friday, June 2nd, 1893.
For the case of Charles Walton, tried this day, see Essex cases.
NEW COURT.—Friday June 2nd, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and Mr. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Friday, June 2nd, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BESLEY and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoners, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that they
PLEADED GUILTY , and thereupon the JURY found them
Previous convictions for a similar offence were proved against Glyndon and Woodley. GLYNDON, WOODLEY and WALTERS— Fined £50 each, or Three Months' Imprisonment. HOGG, CRUMP and JENKINS Discharged on recognisances.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, June 3rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. AVORY Prosecuted, and Mr. C. F. GILL Defended.
ARTHUR SMITH . I am a scalesman to George Richard May and others, trading as Gee and May, at 80, Central Meat Market—on 5th May Mr. Jones, a customer, purchased three lambs, and agreed to give £4 1s. 4d. for them—I then pinned a piece of paper, with his name, on to them—shortly after, George Shaw, a porter in the market, came into our shop and applied for three lambs in the name of Jones—as he was a licensed porter I took his application to be genuine, and gave him the lambs, and he carried them away, turning to the right on leaving the shop.
Cross-examined. He had a badge on his arm—the fact of his being a licensed porter operated on my mind, and influenced me to the extent that I delivered the goods to him—I looked on a licensed porter as a man who had got that position through being a man of character—in the market considerable confidence is placed in these porters.
Re-examined. A licensed porter is licensed to carry meat, not to sell it.
FREDERICK GEORGE SHAW (in custody). I was a licensed meat porter at the Central Meat Market for about three months—I am twenty-one years old—I had known the prisoner before 5th May for about nine months as a salesman in a shop in Charterhouse Street—I had fetched meat out of the market for him, which he had sent me for—on the morning of 5th May I was working with Arthur Garrett in the market—we finished work about half-past ten, and then we went for a walk round the market—I saw the prisoner outside his shop about twelve o'clock, and said, "Will you have anything if I bring it to you?"—he said, "Yes"—I then went round the market, and Garrett went into Gee and May's shop and had a look round and came out, and told me there were three lambs for Jones—there was a piece of paper on the lambs with the name: Jones—I went in and asked for the three lambs in the name of Jones, and they let me take them away—I took them straight away to the prisoner's shop, and left them there with the scalesman; the prisoner was not there then—Garrett was with me—we then went home—after we had been home a considerable time my father came for me and told me I was. wanted down in the market—I went to Gee and May's, and was there given into custody and taken to the Police-station—I was discharged—about half-past four I saw the prisoner in his shop; he motioned me to go into the public-house near (I don't know the name)—I went in—I saw the prisoner there; he asked me what I wanted for the lambs—I said, "£3"—he said, "No, I will give you £2"—he gave me two sovereigns, which I took—the following week I was arrested again on a warrant—before that the meat market inspector had seen me, and I had made a statement to him—after being arrested on the warrant I was brought up at the Guildhall—I pleaded guilty to stealing the lambs, and was sentenced to twenty-one days' hard labour—I am now undergoing that sentence.
Cross-examined. What I have said now is the truth and all the truth—in order to become a porter in the market you hardly have to get any character at all—you have to be known in the market—they made me a licensed porter without a character—you ask for a form and fill it up, and get any salesman in the market who knows you as a respectable
person to sign it for you—there are a good many porters in the market; they are trusted a good deal—I have known porters to be trusted with money to buy stuff—nearly all the work in the market is done by people who act for the salesmen in buying and selling—I wear my badge—Garrett suggested this to me; he thought of the way in which it could be done—I asked for the three lambs in the name of Jones—they said, "Are you the carrier?" and I said "Yes"—Garrett came out and said they were for the carrier—I was afterwards charged with having obtained these lambs by false pretences—I said it was not me, I knew nothing about it—they let me go—I was with my father then; he took me to Gee and May's—I denied that I was the person who had the lambs—about a week afterwards I was arrested on a warrant for stealing the lambs—I was remanded for a week—a solicitor appeared for me—I believe my father instructed him—before I was brought up on the remand and sentenced I saw two gentlemen in the cells, one was my own solicitor and the other was from the solicitor against me—I made a state ment—I did not then know that a charge was going to be made against the prisoner, or that he had been summoned—I did not know that till the other day, when I was asked to come up to the Const—when I came up into the dock on the remand, after making a statement, I saw the prisoner standing in front of the dock, and then I gave evidence—I knew the prisoner carried on business at Mr. Payne's shop in Charterhouse Street—Payne's name is on the door—I did not on Thursday, 4th, leave two sheep at the prisoner's—I was outside his shop on the 4th—I was working near there—I did not see the prisoner on the 4th, and was not in his shop on that day—I did not leave the three lambs on the Friday, saying that they were for the same account as the sheep—I did not hear the prisoner give his evidence against me—I heard him say he was not there on the Thursday—I don't think I was listening to his evi dence—he knew me by the name of George (Mr. Gill read the deposition of the prisoner taken at the Police-court on the hearing of the charge against Shaw, as follows;—"I am a meat salesman, 99, Charterhouse Street I carry on my business in Mr. Payne's shop, and I pay him £1 per week for that. I knew prisoner in the market for about four months. I have occasionally hired him to bring in meat that I had purchased. He has never on his own account brought me meat for sale. Last Friday week he brought three lambs, and he said, 'I have to bring you three lambs to be sold.' He said, 'You had two sheep yesterday,' I was at Cambridge the day previous. He said, 'When they are sold I will come for the account of them; you must book them in the name of Mr. Shaw, and place the sheep in the same account. When they are sold I will take the money for them. 'I was to sell them for a Mr. Shaw. I did not know the prisoner's name was Shaw. I did not take Mr. Shaw's address. I did not know what the prisoner's name was. I did not ask his name or address or Mr. Shaw's. There was no other conversation; he left the lambs there; there was no suggestion as to how much they were to be sold for; I gave him no money at the time; an hour and a half afterwards I saw the prisoner again; the lambs had been brought in, and I had sold them in the meantime; the prisoner came for the money. I sold them to a Mr. Bradford. I gave the prisoner the money in the shop. I said, 'Here's the account; I have sold them the best I can. 'Including
the two sheep and deducting commission, the account was £5 8s. 10d., which I paid him £2 7s. 3d. I gave him for the sheep, and £3 6s. 7d. for the three lambs, total £5 13s. 10d.; less 5s. commission, £5 8s. 10d. I sold the lambs for £3 1 1s. 9d".)—I heard him say all that at Guildhall, but a lot of it is not true—there is no truth in the part about the two sheep—I know Payne by sight—I did not take two sheep to his shop on the Thursday—I have been in trouble before, but I was dis charged and got a good character; the gentleman offered to take me back.
Re-examined. I was in trouble just on two years ago, when I was fore man at a place, and thieves broke in; and about a week afterwards some one must have got into our place and taken a lot of goods out, and the governor thought I must have done it, because I had the keys of the place, and was foreman, and he charged me with it; but the magistrate dis missed the case, because nothing was proved against me—I went to see my employer afterwards, and he paid my wages and wanted to take me back, but I did not want to go back, and went to work for my father the same week—that was the only trouble I have been in except this—the prisoner did not ask me, and I did not give him any name—I took the lambs straight into the shop, and hung them up, and came out—he paid me in the public-house, not in the shop, and it was after I had been taken to the station—I said, "I have got into a bit of trouble over those lambs", and he made no answer—he then gave me £2—I was taken back by my father to Gee and May's shop that afternoon, and I was identified as the person who had taken the lambs—I denied it—I was taken to the station and discharged—before my solicitor and the gentleman from the prose cuting solicitor came to see me, I had already made a statement to the inspector of the meat market—I made that statement on the Wednesday after I stole the lambs, and I was arrested on the warrant on the fol lowing Friday after I stole them.
GEORGE SAVILLE . I am chief clerk at Guildhall—I produce the depositions taken there in the case of George Shaw when he was charged with stealing the three lambs—he was first brought up on 13th May, and then the constable was called—he was remanded to the 16th, and then other witnesses, including the prisoner, were called, and Shaw pleaded guilty—Shaw was remanded again to the 23rd, and on the 24th he was sentenced to 21 days' hard labour—on the 23rd, a summons was issued against the prisoner for receiving, and on the 24th, after Shaw was sentenced, he was called as a witness against the prisoner—Shaw swore an information.
Cross-examined. Shaw made an information on the 23rd, the day before he was sentenced, and a summons was granted. (The prisoner's deposition was again read by the Clerk of the Court.)
ARTHUR GARRETT . I am a licensed meat porter in the Central Meat Market—on 5th May I was working there with Shaw—we left off work about ten a. m. and went for a walk round the market and into Charter house Street—Shaw went over and spoke to the prisoner, and then he came back and spoke to me, and we went and had breakfast, and then
came into the market, and I went into Gee and May's shop, where I saw three lambs, with tickets marked "Jones" on them. (The COURT here cautioned the witness that he need not answer the questions put to him, as he might incriminate himself).—I came out—I did not speak to Shaw—I stood at the corner with him—then he went in—I waited—he came out carrying three lambs, and went up the avenue and turned to the right in the direction of Charterhouse Street—I didn't know where he went—he was away about five minutes—when he came back we went home—I saw him again that day about six o'clock—he gave me a sovereign; that was what I got out of it.
Cross-examined. I did not consider I was entitled to anything—he gave me a sovereign to keep my mouth shut—he said, "This is for you to keep your mouth shut"—I don't think I took part in this affair or gave any assistance—it was not my idea going in Gee and May's shop, but Shaw's—I was not curious as to how much he got—I did not refuse to take £1—I kept my mouth shut till I was obliged to open it, to save my self—if no one had asked me I should have kept quiet; but if I saw any risk I should save myself.
ALFRED WILSON . I am a locksmith in the service of Hobbs and Hart—Garrett lives next door to me—I was with him in the Meat Market on 5th May—on that day I saw the prisoner, whom I know by sight, just inside his shop in Charterhouse Street, between eleven and twelve in the morning, and at that time I saw Shaw carry lambs in there—about six o'clock that day I saw Shaw give Garrett two half-sovereigns.
Cross-examined. It was when Shaw and Garrett had a conversation together, at six o'clock, that the two Half-sovereigns were given.
Re-examined. When I saw them together in the morning in the market they had their smocks on.
EBENEZER MEARS . I am chief inspector of the Metropolitan Meat Market—on 5th May I received information, and went on inquiring—I did not see Shaw till the following Monday, 8th May—he made no state ment to me then—on 10th May I sent for the prisoner to come to my office, and I said to him (This is the note I made at the time), "I want to speak to you in a business manner about three lambs being stolen on Friday last, and received by you from a young man named Shaw. I must caution you, and what you say in reply may be used in evidence against you"—the prisoner hesitated, and afterwards said, "Yes, they were sold; I sold them to a man named Bradford, a butcher at Kilburn"—I said,. "Do you buy things in this way?"—he said, "I did not buy the lambs; they were brought to me to sell"—I said, "Having sold them, to whom did you pay the money?"—he said, "I paid for them to Shaw; I sell anything that is brought to me"—I said, "Has Shaw ever brought you anything before t"—he said, "He has never brought me anything before"—I said, "What did you give him for them?"—he said, "I paid him at the rate of 4s. 4d; they came to £3 something"—I said, "Bo you know how old Shaw is?"—he said, "I don't know his age, or anything about him"—I said, "Do you know where Shaw brought the things from?"—he said, "He did not say where he got the lambs from, and I did not ask him"—I said, "When did you pay Shaw for them t"—he said, "I paid Shaw after I had sold them, the same day"—I said, "Do you say Shaw has never brought you anything before?"—he hesitated, and said,
"Well, Shaw has brought me things before, but not on his own account; I sell things on commission"—I said, "Have you an account of this matter t"—he said, "I do not keep account of ready-money transactions"—I said, "When did you see Shaw previously to his bringing you the lambs?"—he said, "I have not seen Shaw for days; I have been away down in Cambridge, and only returned on the Friday morning"—I said, "Did you see Shaw on the Friday before he brought you the lambs?"—he said "No, I did not see him before he brought me the lambs"—on the 13th May I served him with a witness summons to attend and give evidence in the case against Shaw—he read the summons, and said, "I was not there when the sheep were brought in on the Thursday, neither was I there when the lambs were brought in the shop on the Friday".
Cross-examined. This note was made at the time by a market con stable sitting at my back—I afterwards looked over it and came to the conclusion that it was a correct statement—I believe the prisoner had been away and had come back on the Friday morning—the lambs were sold to Bradford, of Kilburn.
Cross-examined. I wrote it in long hand—the note was not read to the prisoner—Mears has my original note—I don't believe he made a note at the time; but directly after the prisoner had gone out of the office Mears made a note—Mears copied my note—this is the original (Pro duced),
JOHN BRADFORD I am a butcher at Kilburn—on 5th May, I bought three lambs from the prisoner at Mr. Payne's shop for £3 11s. 9d.—they were very good lambs—I don't know that they were better quality than I had bought of him before.
By the COURT. £3 11s. 9d. was a fair market price, I think, leaving a fair margin for profit—I think I gave a farthing a pound away.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for ten years, I daresay—I have had repeated transactions with him—he is a thoroughly respectable man, in my opinion.
Witnesses for the Defence
JOSEPH PAYNE . I am a meat salesman, of 99, Charterhouse Street—I have been in Charterhouse Street twenty years—I sell meat there on commission, and buy meat as well right out—I have different customers in all parts of the country, who send me meat—the prisoner has a share of my shop—T have known him twenty-five years—he never had any stain on his character in his life—on Thursday, 4th May, he was not in London; he went to Cambridge, and came back on Friday—on that Thursday Shaw brought in two sheep, which I sold on the same day for the prisoner to Dain—on the prisoner's return I informed him there had been in two sheep for him, and I had sold them for him—I have an entry of the transaction in my day-book: "Thursday, 4th May, two sheep. Sold to Dain, £6 2s. 8d.; not paid"—I had to give Dain credit—I had sold meat to Dain before, and had an account with him—there is "J. H". against the entry—the prisoner and I are not partners—it is my shop, and we are independent—if he was
away I should represent him, and if I was away he would represent me, and if opportunity arose for me to sell meat for him I should sell it—great confidence is placed in the market porters as respectable characters and men we should trust; we trust them.
Cross-examined. I never got a man a situation as porter in the market—I think a man has to get two salesmen to sign for him, either one or two, and then he becomes a licensed porter—the sheep are entered sepa rately, they generally weigh them separately—it was about nine a. m. on 4th May, I should say, when Shaw brought the two sheep in—they were hung up—my own meat is marked "J. P". and the prisoner's "J. H"—the number corresponds with the sender—when there is no number against the entry, it means my own meat that I have bought; when there is nothing against an entry it means meat that is bought in the market; when "J. P". is put it means meat bought alive from the Cattle Market—when Shaw brought the sheep on the 4th, he carried them there together and hung them up—I did not say anything to him—I never spoke to him in my life; never had any transactions with him—anyone brings in anything he likes and hangs it up—Shaw delivered them to my man and went out, leaving them there—my man spoke to me; he is" here—I do not know anything of what was said by Shaw about the sheep except what my man told me—Dain paid me for the sheep about a fortnight after, I should think—I have the entry of the payment in another book which is not here—I should enter it into the cash-book at the end of the week, and when it is paid I cross it off—I can send for that book—when it was paid I gave the money to the prisoner—he keeps a book or two, but he keeps his accounts very illite rately; he does not keep his accounts like mine—I have only seen a little book in which he puts down the meat he has sold—this is his book. (Pro duced).—I was there on Friday the 5th; I was not there when Shaw came with the lambs—I was there all day from 5. 30 a. m. till three or four p. m., but I don't stop in the shop all the time—I did not see Shaw on either occasion, on Friday when he came—the prisoner came to the shop on Friday morning, end was there all day practically—I did not hear anything of Shaw having got into trouble over these lambs, till Mears came to me a day or two afterwards, I should say—until then the prisoner had not told me anything about trouble over the lambs—when I came back from market I think: I saw the three lambs, and the prisoner sold them to Bradford—I had no con versation with the prisoner about them.
R e-examined. Dain was perfectly good for money.
FRANK WEBB I am a scalesman in the employ of Mr. Payne—the prisoner was away at Cambridge on Thursday, 4th May—he came back on Friday—on the Thursday when he was away a porter, whom I know now as Shaw, brought in two sheep and said they were for Mr. Harrington; nothing else was said—they were hung up, and afterwards sold by Payne—the next day Shaw brought three lambs into the shop; I took two off his shoulder and hung them up, and he said, "Sell them for me"—the prisoner was not in the shop at that time.
Cross-examined. He was in the market, I believe—I cannot say how soon before or after he was at the shop—he had been there before that
day—I don't know if he was there in the afternoon—I cannot say if he was at the shop after twelve on the Friday—I am not always at the shop—sometimes we shut up when we are sold out, but our usual time for shutting up is four or five—on the Thursday, I suppose, we shut up about twelve, as near as I can guess—I cannot say if anyone else was in the shop when Shaw brought the sheep—anything that anybody brings to the shop for sale on commission we take in; we ask no questions—I only knew Shaw as a porter—I do not know if porters buy and sell meat on their own account; you can trust them with money, as a rule—they are employed to carry meat—we are not in the habit of taking meat from porters and selling it on their account—when we sell on commission we don't trouble to know for whom we are selling, till they come for the money—all commission meat we number, but market meat we don't number—I think I am quite sober—I cannot tell exactly the time when Shaw brought the lambs—I had not seen him at the shop before he brought the lambs—I am not aware that the prisoner was at the shop shortly before the lambs were brought in—Shaw brought three lambs; I took two off his shoulder; and one he hung up himself and said, "Sell those for me, "and ran out of the shop—I was not at all surprised; nothing of the kind had ever happened before—I did not know his name, I knew him by sight—I do not think I was there when the prisoner came in—the prisoner has nothing to do with me; he did not ask me anything about it—I am quite sure that the prisoner was not in the shop at the time the lambs were brought in, and when he came back he did not ask me any questions about them, and I did not tell him anything about them—I have nothing to do with the prisoner's business—I suppose I must have told the prisoner about the lambs; I told him the lambs were for him—the inspector of the Meat Market came to me to make inquiries about this matter, and took a statement from me, which he wrote down, and which was read to me, and I signed it. (Read: "I recollect on Thursday last, about ten, a porter, whose name I do not know, but whom I know well by sight, came into our shop carrying two sheep. He handed the sheep to me, and I assisted to put them on the hooks. He said to me, 'Sell them for me. 'I said, 'All right'")—he said they were for Harrington. ("Shortly after Mr. Payne came back, and I told him there were two sheep for Harrington".) Payne was not there when the sheep were brought in on the Thursday—("When the lad came in with the sheep I said, 'Who are they for?" He said, 'For Harrington. Sell them for me. The next day, about half-past one, the same lad came to the shop and brought in three lambs. Mr. Harrington was in the shop, and Mr. Harrington said, 'Hang them up there'")—that is not true—I did not say to the inspector that Harring ton was there when the lambs were brought in—I don't know how it came in that statement.
R e-examined. I go to work in the morning about half-past five; it is tiring work, and a little light refreshment is pleasant afterwards—I have had more than one half-pint of beer this morning, very likely.
WILLIAM HARRINGTON . I am the prisoner's son—he occupies and uses part of Mr. Payne's shop—he buys and sells meat—I kept these books—we put down in this book the meat he sells—on Thursday, 4th May, he was away—two sheep were sold for him on that day—I booked them as they were sold; the entry is here—they were sold to Dain—on Friday the
prisoner was back in town—on that day I booked the three lambs and a pig and a calf that Mr. Bradford had—I put entries here of the other things sold on that Friday.
Cross-examined. Dain paid for the two sheep on the Monday; he has a weekly account with my father, and always pays once a week—I have no entry in the book to show he paid for them—he did not pay on the Thursday—I cannot recollect if he paid on the Monday; I know he has a weekly account—the two sheep were sold to Dain on Thursday by Payne—Dain was a customer of my father; he had meat throughout the week, and paid on Monday, and when he paid we crossed off the entry in the book—Mr. Payne has that book—I don't know why it is not crossed off here.
JOSEPH PAYNE (Re-examined by MR. AVORY.) On Thursday, 4th, I saw the two sheep brought in by Shaw; I am quite sure I was there then, my man hung them up—I said to the inspector of the market, "On Thursday last, while I was round the market, someone brought in two sheep"—I was round the market, and when I came back the sheep were just hung up, and I asked Tom, my man, to whom they belonged, and he said a porter had brought them, and they were to be sold for Mr. Har rington—I could not have been there when they were brought in—I was over in the market when the sheep were actually brought in, and when I came back the man was hanging them up, and Shaw was coming out of my shop at the time, and I said, "What are these sheep, Tom?"—I can not say whether Shaw is the man or not.
The prisoner received a good character,
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of his previous good character — Nine Month' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
561. JAMES MCKENZIE (28) , Feloniously wounding Robert Herring with intent to do him grievous bodily harm. He stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was Guilty of unlawfully wounding, upon which they found that verdict .— Judgment respited.
MR. FARRANT Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH Defended Coode.
ALGERNON FISH . I am a pawnbroker, of Nightingale Hall, Chingford Lane—on May 2nd I went round the house about nine o'clock and found it secure—all the windows were shut—they reach from the ground almost to the ceiling, and are fastened by a bolt top and bottom, and locked in the centre—I locked all the sitting-room doors—next morning my brother called me and I went down into the breakfast-room and found it all in disorder, and one or two drawers open; and in the smoking-room and dining-room one or two things were taken out of the side board—I found a black-handled knife, which is not mine—the bolt of the French window was strained, and the window open on one side—the breakfast-room and smoking-room windows were thrown up—I missed a tray and contents, some books, and other things were missed later on—I saw some of them at the Edmonton Petty Sessions—all this property (produced) is mine—I missed some cigars, and to the best of my belief these are them; twenty or thirty were left.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I got the cigars from my brother, who is a pawnbroker, but I do not know that he took them in pawn.
ARTHUR MORRIS FISH . I live with my brother—on 3rd May I aroused him at 5. 35 a. m.—I unbolted the breakfast-room, and saw the aide door open, and one window thrown up—I do not provide my brother with cigars.
JOHN COLLIER (Policeman), I am stationed at Walthamstow—on May 2nd I was on duty and saw the prisoners with others walking to wards Chingford—I knew them—Manley said, "Halloa, governor"—that was about a mile and a half from Nightingale Hall—on May 4th I went to Chingford Station, and saw the prisoners with others, and identified them.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. Three others were with them—I have been in the force five years, and never knew men who were going to commit a burglary speak to a policeman.
Cross-examined by Stark. I had seen you lots of times before I came and looked into your cell.
ELIAS FRYER (Detective Sergeant). On May 3rd I was with Wright and saw the three prisoners coming down Stock ham Road—Coode and Stark went into No. 10, leaving Manley outside—in ten minutes Coode came out and spoke to Manley, who went in, and I saw Coode standing in front of the table, and the other two on the sofa in the front room—a lamp was burning and the blind was up—three of us entered the house, and Coode was standing at a table with this bag at his feet—I said, "Where did you get that bag from? What does it containt" he said, "I never brought it in, and I do not know these men"—I took him to the station and returned and saw the bag there—it contained a teapot and china cups, and a basin—I asked each prisoner separately, "Do you wish to give any account of these articles?"—I did not administer a caution, because I did not know that the property was stolen. (MR. KEITH FRITH contended that, no caution being administered, this evidence was inadmissible, but the COURT overruled the objection)—Coode addressed Manley
and said, "Young man, I do not know you, do If—he said, "No"—Stark said, "I never saw this man in my life till I saw him at the top of the road this evening"—Stark gave his right name; Manley gave the name of Wm. Walker—Coode gave his address in a van at Walthamstow—the others said they had no fixed abode—I found these two cigars on Coode, and eight on Manley.
GEORGE WRIGHT (Detective). I am stationed at Stoke Newington—on 3rd May I was in Allen Road, Tottenham, and saw the three prisoners—Coode was carrying a bag; he and Stark went to 10, Stockham Road—Manley remained outside—Coode came out and spoke to him, and he went in—I sent for assistance and took Manley to the station—I saw a bag at Coode's feet—I searched him at the station and found one cigar, a pocket-knife, a pipe, a box of tobacco—the prosecutor identified this pocket-knife and this silver-mounted pipe—I saw the cigars which were taken from the other prisoners—they are all of a similar brand.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I left the bag at the house; nobody had charge of it—the room could be seen from the pavement through the Venetian blind—there were plenty of people about.
The COURT considered that there was no evidence of burglary.
Evidence for the Defence.
JAMES DAVEY . I am a plasterer, of 7, West Road, Hackney—on May 2nd we knocked off because we had no material, and I went to the Cock and met Manley and Coode—I do not know Stark; he was not there—I went from there to the Chequers and left them at seven o'clock, and caught the train and went home; we met no policeman that I know of—we got two cigars like these at the Cock, but I cannot swear to them.
Cross-examined. I was not asked anything about the cigars at the Police-court—I did not go to Chingford on May 2nd.
THOMAS HAVES . I am a plasterer, of 7, Station Road, Walthamstow—I work with Davey—on May 2nd, about four o'clock, we went to the Cock Tavern and met Coode and Manley there—we got talking, and then went to the Chequers and stayed there till seven—they left when we left—I Went to sleep—We tossed for cigars in the Cook; this one is something like them.
Cross-examined. We tossed for two cigars; I did not have one—I work on Mr. Rodger's estate—I got up at six a. m.—I went to sleep because I had had some drink.
MATILDA COODE . I live at Higham Hill, Walthamstow, and am a licensed hawker—Coode is my brother—on May 2nd he was with me hawking—he came home with me at three o'clock, and about 3. 30 he went into James Street, and I saw him in the Cock Tavern—I saw him again at 8. 30, and he went home with me and did not' go out any more—he slept in the caravan—he left about 8. 30 or nine a. m.—he could not go out get in without my hearing; he could only get in by one door—there are two compartments, and we can make three—he did not leave the Van from eight p. m. till 8. 30 next morning.
Stark's Define. I went into a public-house and met these men with two others. I know Coode. I happened to have some cigars in my posses sion, and while in the public-house I did hot see either of them with a bag. I deny that I Went to the house with them. I was placed with these two men and two other men nothing like us.
Manley's Defence. We were in Eltham Road, and a woman openeda door and called us in. We were there about a quarter of an hour, and were taken.
—COODE and MANLEY then PLEADED GUILTY to former con victions, Coode** at Chelmsford in September, 1888, and Manley** at Stratford in November, 1890. COODE— Five Years' Penal Servitude. MANLEY— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. STARK— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
CHARLES KEEBLE (Policeman G). On May 16th I was on duty in the City Road, and the prisoner came up and said he had been assaulted by a man who was there—we all three went to the station, and some witnesses came, but the charge was not taken—the prisoner had a donkey with him—another officer followed with that—the prisoner said he was going to take the donkey and sell it to a man named Jones on Wanstead Flats—afterwards he said he was going to take it home, and that he found it straying in a lane in Stratford—he gave his address—we wired and found it was not correct—he was then charged with the unlawful possession of the donkey.
EDWARD COOPER . I am a labourer, of 1, Torr's Road, Forest Gate—I hired this donkey from Mr. Bullock—it was in an open space at Wanstead, not tethered—I left it there at night, and next saw it at the Police-station.
Prisoner's Defence. The donkey was straying, and me and Moore took it away, and a man knocked me down and cut the back of my head, and I was bleeding three hours before a doctor came.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
MR. A. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
— NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
HENRY LAWRENCE BASCOMB . I am a tobacconist, of 243, Malpas Road—on April 11th the prisoner came in for a cigar, and gave me a half-crown—I found it bad, and asked him where he got it—he said in change at a London theatre the Saturday previous—he gave his address, 7, St. John's Road, Deptford, and paid me 2d.—he left, and I sent a customer after him—I was afterwards called to the station, where I saw him and charged him—I gave the coin to the sergeant.
STANLEY LAMBERT . I was at Mr. Bascomb's—he made a communica tion to me, and I followed the prisoner from Brockley to Ladywell, and he was taken in custody—he said, "Why did not he charge me at the time?"—I said, "There was no policeman in sight"
WALTER LAKER (Policeman). On April 24th I was on duty in High Street, Lewisham, and Lambert pointed out the prisoner to me—I followed him to Ladywell, and took him to the station—I took his coat off, and a bad five-shilling piece fell out of his pocket—he said, "I will tell the truth, I have got five of them" and the sergeant found them.
JOSEPH ARNOLD (Police Sergeant 72 P). On April 24th the prisoner was brought to the station—his jacket was taken off, and a bad five-shilling piece fell out of the pocket, which I picked up—he said, "I may as well tell the truth, I have five of them"—I found the other four in his pocket—I saw some good money found on him.
GUILTY .— Four Days' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
567. FREDERICK HAYWOOD MORFORD (14) , PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to carnally know Renee Morford, a girl under thirteen years. Mr. Wheatley, of the St. Giles Christian Mission, promised to take charge of the prisoner.—Discharged on recognizances.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
569. WILLIAM MACKAY and JOHN THOMAS BALL, Unlaw fully obtaining by false pretences from Joseph Travers and Sons bags of sugar, with intent to defraud. Other Counts charging Ball with unlaw fully receiving bags of sugar, well knowing them to have been obtained by means of false pretences.
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. ARTHUR GILL Defended Ball.
Before Ball pleaded to the indictment, MR. ARTHUR GILL moved to quash Counts three and six (which charged the prisoner with having unlawfully received goods, knowing them to have been obtained by false pretences, with intent to defraud), upon the ground that the false pretences were not set out in those Counts. It had been held that it was necessary to set out the false pretences in a Count for obtaining goods or money by false pre tences, and it was equally necessary to set them out when the charge was receiving goods obtained in such a manner. The point was decided under the repealed statute 118 Geo. V., c. 29, s. 55 in the Queen v. Hill (Gloucester Sp. Ass., 1851); by Greaves, Q. C., after counselling Patterson and Talfourd, J. J. (Russell on Crimes, 5th Ed. I., 482.) It was contended that that decision applied equally to 24 and 25 Vict., c. 96, s. 95, which so far as this point seas concerned, was a re-enactment of the former statute. The question
was raised incidently in R. v. Goldsmith, but not decided, that case having turned upon the fact that the point was not raised until after verdict, when the fault was cured, inasmuch as the indictment followed the words of the statute.
MR. C. F. GILL contended that it was unnecessary to set out live false pretences in these particular Counts. The receiver need not be fixed with any knowledge of the circumstances; mere possession of property under such circumstances as would lead a person to suppose it was improperly come by was sufficient, and it was not necessary to prove that the receiver had knowledge of what false pretences were used. If the allegations were necessary to the Count, then proof of them would be necessary, and a receiver could not be fixed with knowledge of specific false pretences made in his absence. The object of the Larceny Act was to place the receiver of goods obtained by false pretences in the same position as a receiver of stolen goods.
MR. ARTHUR GILL , in reply, submitted that the effect of putting the false pretences into the Count was not to throw on the prosecution the onus of proving that the receiver knew of them, because the Count need only allege "knowing the goods to have been obtained by false pretences" without alleging knowledge of the pretences. Every defence open to the principal was open to the receiver, who was, therefore, entitled to know what were the false pretences by which the property was obtained.
The COMMON SERJEANT ruled that as nothing had happened since the case of the Queen v. Hill, which was decided by a very great authority, to alter the then state of the law, he must follow that case and direct Counts three and six to be quashed.
MR. C. F. GILL offered no evidence upon the other Counts of this Indict ment as against Ball.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted.
ARTHUR MEASURES . I am salesman to Joseph Travers and Sons, Limited, wholesale grocers, at 119, Cannon Street—on May 3rd the prisoner came and handed me this letter: "Supply Stores, Wood Green, 3rd May.—Please give bearer ten bags crystal sugar, own ran, and oblige.
—W. H. BARNFIELD, High Street, Wood Green"—I selected the goods, and handed them over to Highfield—I believed the prisoner to be the carrier to Barnfield.
Cross-examined by prisoner. You handed me the order in an envelope—I don't know if it was sealed up or fastened.
GEORGE HIGHFIELD . I am a clerk in Travers and Sons' employment—it is my duty to make out delivery orders for goods sold—on May 3rd I saw the prisoner speaking to someone, and he handed me this letter—I opened it, and made out this sale order for the delivery of ten bags of yellow crystals, addressed to the West Kent Wharf—I handed that order to the person who had the letter.
JOSEPH SHOTT . I am clerk to Humphreys and Co., wharfingers, of West Kent Wharf—on May 3rd the prisoner came and produced this order from Travers and Sons for ten bags of yellow crystals—I said, "Whose van?"—he said, "Barnfield's van"—on that I gave the order to
the delivery foreman—I looked at the van, and saw that the name oil it was Bonford—I said, "This is not Barnfteld's van"—he said, "I am Barn field"—I went down to put the sugar in the van, and when the prisoner came to sign for it I asked him to endorse the order, and he endorsed it on the back, "W. H. Barnfield"—the address on the front of it is "W. H. Barnfield, High Street, Wood Green".
Cross-examined. You said you were Barnfield—I did not ask you to put Barnfield's name on the back, I simply said, "Endorse it"—it is our business to go outside and look at the vans—you brought the order in in the usual way; I saw no reason to doubt it.
ARTHUR BONFORD . I live at Cambridge Terrace, West Green Road—on 3rd May the prisoner engaged my van—he said he wanted to draw some sugar—I drove with him to near Gannon Street—he left me and returned in about half an hour, and then we drove over London Bridge to a wharf where ten bags of sugar were put into the van—from the wharf we went to Hornsey, and pulled up there at a small grocer's shop, into which the prisoner went and spoke to someone—he came out, and the sugar was taken into the shop, part by the front door and part by the private side door—the prisoner carried in the sacks—after that he paid me ten shillings.
Cross-examined. You told me nothing respecting the business, I think—I was quite satisfied with what you paid me—I have known you probably three months.
Re-examined. I have drawn sugar for him in the same kind of way from the same shop—I had been there once before, probably in March.
WILLIAM BARICFIKLD . I am a grocer, of High Street, Wood Green—I am a customer of Travers and Sons, Limited—I know the prisoner; I have never employed him—this letter to Travers and Sons, and the endorsement on the back of the order on the wharf, are not in my writing, nor written with my authority—I did not sign the receipt—I know the prisoner from his having been in the employment of a neigh pouring shop and coming into my shop casually.
Cross-examined. I only know you by sight—I knew nothing of you or against you—I never saw your writing.
By the JURY. I send my orders out on printed memorandum forms, or I might write them in a counter-book, When I should have a duplicate—I never in my life sent out an order on half a sheet of paper like this.
THOMAS DIVALL (Detective Sergeant M) I was making inquiries into this matter, and on the 15th May I went with Sergeant Gentle to 15, Minster Road, where I saw the prisoner—I said, "We are police officers, and are going to arrest you for forging two orders, one on the 38th March and the Other on 3rd May this year, thereby obtaining fifteen bags of sugar, value nearly £30"—he said, "I know nothing about it; you will have to prove tour case"—I afterwards. arrested Ball—the two prisoners Were put together at the Police-station Ball said, "That is the man I bought the sugar from"—Mackay nodded his head but made ho reply; but after the inspector read the charge over, he said, "The worst of it is they have got forgery against me. "
Cross-examined. That is not a falsehood; I took it down in writing, And the inspector is here who heard it—I found nothing when I searched
your house—I took away a paper I found there, referring to your last situation; I found it to be correct.
The prisoner called
JOHN THOMAS BALL (in custody). I live at 12, St. Mary's Road, Hornsey, and am a grocer—when you were charged at the Police-station, and the inspector read over the charge, you did not say, "The worst of it is you have got forgery against me"—you said, "Everything is right except the forgery"—I was close to you, and had a better chance of hearing you than the detective, who was two or three yards away—I have known you for a few years, and I always found you straight forward in your dealings with me—when you sold me this sugar you came to me as an ordinary traveller, and asked me to purchase them, not on your own behalf—I bought them according to your representations, which were bond fide—you said, "The party I am selling for is hard up, and he wants the money"—and you said the same about the second lot—you asked a certain amount—I said, "No"; I was afraid sugar would drop, and it was a larger quantity than I wanted to buy; and you wanted the money for the other party, and you accepted my terms.
Cross-examined. He was charged with forgery, and I was not—I heard at the station he was charged with forging two of the orders—my grocer's business was not a small one; I do wholesale and retail—I only employ one assistant, a lad about fifteen, and I only have him for half-time—I pay him four shillings a week—I and he do all the work; I work hard I have been a grocer about seven years altogether, and about three years in this place—the prisoner mentioned the name of a man at Peckham, in whose employment he was; I could not say the name now—I keep no books; mine is a cash business—I sometimes take receipts when I pay, not always; I do not if I know anybody—I had known the prisoner previously, and had other transactions with him about eighteen months or two years ago, when he was at work at Wood Green—I did not know lately whether he was in any employment; I lost sight of him, and he turned up—I asked him if he was in employment, and took his word for it—he told me whose employment he was in, but I have forgotten it—I understood he was a grocer; I asked no questions—I deal with several people for sugar: Tchegan, of Bishopsgate Street; and Kearley and Tonge—I have had transactions with Kearley and Tonge up to the present time, buying sugar of them—I know the price of sugar now; I did not know the price of that class of sugar before—I have bought a ton of sugar at one time—I bought a ton of sugar (ten bags) of the prisoner—I bought a ton when I was at my other shop from Tchegan six or seven years ago—I never bought a ton of sugar before at the shop I am at now—I gave 12s. 6d. a hundredweight for this sugar I bought on 3rd May—I did not know the value of that sugar; I knew it was worth more than that—I did not know the wholesale price was 19s. a hundredweight—I asked that price for it—I do not know now that 19s. 9d. is the wholesale price—I did not ask anybody what the value of it was; I guessed the price by the price of other sugar—the prisoner carried it into my shop, some by the front and some by the side door—I did not assist him—I gave him £6 on account in sovereigns or silver—until he came I did not know he was bringing it there; I did not expect it—I took it after a deal of persuasion—he came down in price—he first asked fifteen shillings—I
did not go and look at it; he brought a bit in—the cart was round at the side—it was five or six weeks since I bought sugar of him before—he then drove up in the same way without my knowing he was coming—I have known goods driven up when they have not been expected, and it has turned out to be honest—when people are hawking they don't tell you they are coming—I asked the prisoner for whom he worked, and he said, "A man at Peckham"—he said the same place, the same firm—he said, "My employer is in difficulties, and is disposing of the sugar to meet a hill"—that was what he said with regard to the other sugar he brought, the same tale—I paid him £12 7s. altogether for the last lot, the five sacks—when I paid him £6 on account for the ten sacks, I said I would pay him the rest on the following Monday—I paid him £12 7s. altogether—I think there was an odd three shillings, which I said I would owe him—he promised to bring me a receipt; he did not do so—I asked him for it—he said he had come without it—I had no receipt for the five sacks—no piece of paper of any kind passed between us—I gave the people to whom I sold the sugar receipts—one bag was sold to one person and one to another—I had a man selling it for me; I had receipts in all those cases—I did not say to the police that I knew I ought to have made inquiries about it.
By the COURT. I knew him in the employment of Scoones, the grocer; that was why I took his word this time.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he received the order from a tra veller, who had since left the country, and that he carried out his instruc tions in order to earn one or two shillings, as he was out of employment; and that he signed W. H. Barnfield on die order form because the clerk told him to do so.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
The COURT commended the conduct of the Police.
571. JAMES WOODSTOCK (52) and ELIZABETH CHAPMAN (45) , Feloniously having in their possession certain moulds and other articles for making counterfeit coin. Second Count, for having in their possession counterfeit coin, with intent to utter the same, to which
WOODSTOCK PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, MR. PURCELL Defended Chapman.
CHARLES GARNER (Detective P). In consequence of information I kept observation of the house, 119, Choumert Road, Peckham, assisted by other officers, Fox and Boreham—the female prisoner resided at that house—I have seen her there, sometimes alone, sometimes in company with others, between 24th and 30th April, going in and out—I had been watching the place for a month previous—on one or two occasions I saw her coming out with Woodstock, and sometimes with her daughters—on 30th April I met Woodstock at the entrance of the house and arrested him—he pro duced this parcel containing ten counterfeit florins and ten half-crowns; and on searching him I found three shillings, wrapped in separate papers, in his breast pocket, also this key, which I handed to Inspector Fox—on the same day, at 11. 30, Chapman was given into my custody; I conveyed her in a cab to the station—on the way she said, "I have been brought up as a lady; my husband was an inspector of the General Post Office. I hive £1 a week coming in. I need not do this; I am a d—fool to have
dabbled in this. I have known him these forty years, and would do any thing for him. I don't care what you do with me, but don't bring my children into it Your name is Garner, is it not"—I said, "Yes"—she said, "We have been warned against you and Fox months ago, yet we kept dabbling in it"—this was a voluntary statement—at the station she was formally charged—she made no further statement.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. It was about twenty minutes past twelve, at midday, when I apprehended Woodstock—at that time Chap, man was not in the house—I and Detective Gordon were in the house—we had spoken to her before Woodstock was arrested—it was half-past eleven at night when she was handed to me in custody—when I put her in the cab she was raving and under the influence of drink—I did not ask her a single question.
JOHN GORDON (Detective P). I assisted Garner in keeping observation on this house, 119, Choumert Road—on 30th April I saw Chapman come up the road to 119 with a large black dog—we were in the front room—I opened the door to her—she came in, and the dog rushed in with her—I took her into the front room, told her who we were, and asked her to turn out her pockets—she turned out about eightpence in coppers, which she put back again—I told her she could not leave the house; but she could go into the other room, which she did—I asked her where she had been; she said over to Dulwich to a friend's—about twenty minutes past twelve Woodstock came towards home, and was arrested—next day I saw Chap man; she was trembling—I said, "You look ill"—she said, "Yes; I feel worried about the old man. You would not have had him if I had seen him sooner to give the office; I did not see him till he got up close to the house".
Cross-examined. I went to the house between six and seven in the morning—I found her four daughters there—I was there till Woodstock came in—I did not leave the house; no one else was there.
FREDERICK FOX (Inspector P). I took part in watching this house on the night of 29th April—I raided the house accompanied by a lot of officers—I did not find either of the prisoners there at half-past one at night—I was told where I could find them—I left officers in charge of the house, and later in the day I saw Woodstock at the Police-station—at three on Sunday afternoon I went to 119, and inquired for Chapman—I could not find her—I had the house kept under observation till half-past eleven—in the meantime I went to No. 1, Triangle, Old Kent Road—I entered the house with a key, handed to me by Garner, and in a room upstairs I found a large quantity of counterfeit coins, and coining implements—there Were nearly two hundred pieces of base coin, some not finished, and some entire, also nine moulds, eight being double moulds; some of the things on the floor and some on a bench in the room, and some in a cupboard—I took possession of them—I afterwards went to 119, Choumert Road, and there found Chapman—I told her who I was, and that I should arrest her for making counterfeit coin at 1, Triangle—the daughters interfered—I said, "You can all consider yourselves in custody"—Chapman said, "Don't take my daughters up, it is not their fault; I know I am guilty, but they are not"—I took her outside and handed her to Garner—later on I put her with other women, and she was picked out by three witnesses) who are here—afterwards she was standing with Woodstock and "another—
they were told they would be charged with the possession of the moulds, and making coin—Chapman said, "It stands to reason, as I have been living with this man nineteen years, I want to know what he has been doing".
Cross-examined. I have every reason to believe that she has been living with him nineteen years—I have heard that she is the sister of his deceased wife, and that they lived together before the wife died, and that she went into an asylum—there was another woman apprehended, a sister of Woodstock's; she was discharged by the Magistrate—119, Choumert Road is nearly two miles from the Triangle.
CHARLES KIRKHAM . I live at 1, Eliza Cottages, Old Kent Road—I have had the keeping of the house, 1, Triangle, for the landlady—early in April I was applied to by Woodstock for the key of the house, in the name of Welsh; he told me that was his name—I was present when the house was let to him by Mrs. Axtell, the landlady—I afterwards saw him in possession on Thursday, about quarter-past ten at night, when I saw a van at the door.
EDWIN JOHN WHITE . I keep the Victoria Tavern, Choumert Road, Peckham—I know the prisoners—I have known Chapman for about eight months as an occasional customer; I have seen her several times with Woodstock—on 25th February, she came in about 11. 30 with two or three of her daughters—they had some liquor, and she gave me a bad shilling; I examined it, and broke it—I 'showed it to her and told her it was bad, and they rushed out—I gave the shilling to Garner the next day—it was produced at the Police-court, but has been lost.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mint—I have examined these moulds and coins; the coins are all counterfeit—there are ten half-crowns, ten florins, and three shillings—the articles found are used in. coining—these are good pattern-pieces, from which most of these moulds have been made.
Chapman received a good character.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy, believing her to have acted under the influence of Woodstock.
WOODSTOCK— Fourteen Year Penal Servitude. CHAPMAN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BARKER Prosecuted.
The prisoner being perfectly deaf, the witnesses were examined from the depositions, a copy of which were handed to the prisoner.
HARRY SMALE (Detective L) On Saturday night, 13th May, I arrested the prisoner at his house, 13, Millais Street, for marrying Myra Corrigan—he said, "I thought my wife was dead; I have not seen her for years"
—when he was charged he said, "It was unknown to me; I was told she was dead"—I produce the certificates of both marriages.
THOMAS PALMER . I live at 23, South Street, Redhill, and am a railway carriage examiner—Harriet Ann Palmer is my sister—I was present at her marriage with the prisoner on Christmas Day, 1875 they lived together for a few months—about eighteen months ago I saw them living together at Bermondsey—he then went away and left her—she is now in Court.
MYRA CORRIGAN . I live at 132, Milton Street, Mill wall—I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner at St. John's, Walworth, on 21st September, 1892—he gave his name as Edward Aurelian Nihils—I lived with him till he was arrested on this charge—he told me he was a widower—he. was familiar with me before marriage; he treated me kindly (A medical certificate was handed in)—I had that complaint about a week before my baby was born.
—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at this COURT in June, 1882, and other convictions were alleged against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
WHITE**†— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CASTER (Police Sergeant M). On May 5th I was with Detective Bolton in Great Dover Street, and saw the prisoner and White whispering together—Hunt gave White what appeared to be a white paper packet and a coin similar to this—White threw away this piece of paper—I picked it up; it bears the impression of having been wrapped round coin—I followed the prisoners about half a mile into Old Kent Road, where White pointed across the road to a baker's shop, No. 85, and Hunt went in while White stood by a lamp—I went up to him, and seized both his hands, and said I should arrest him for having counterfeit coin in his possession—he shouted and handed Bolton this packet—I opened it and found two packets, one containing nine and the other ten counterfeit coins we took him to the shop where Hunt was coming out—he made a spring and threw this coin up a narrow court—I asked a boy to pick it up and put it in my mouth—he did so—we took the two prisoners to the baker's shop, and on White was found another white paper package containing counterfeit florins—we took them to the station, and they were charged.
tried it in the tester, and said, "This is a bad one"—he said, "Is it I will take it back"—I gave it to him, and he gave me the cake and went sway, and was brought back by an officer—I bent the coin; this is it.
MARGARET MALONEY . I live at 273, Tooley Street, and assist in the shop sometimes—on April 27th, about 6. 30 p. m., I served the prisoner with a penny pie—he gave me a half-crown—I gave it to Miss Gather, who took it upstairs to her father.
GRACE DARLING GATHER . On April 27th I saw the prisoner in the shop, and Mrs. Maloney showed me this coin—I took it to my father, who was ill in bed, and he broke it—I went down to the shop; the prisoner was still there—I asked him how he came by the half-crown—he said he changed a crown piece on London Bridge—we gave him in custody.
HUNT— GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his youth.
Before Mr. Justice Bruce.
ELIZABETH BOX . I live with my father at 42, Rose Street, Battersea—the prisoner is my mother; she lived with my father—I remember a little boy being born about 26th March—my mother nursed the child herself—on May 1st, about mid-day, she had it in a room on the second floor—my father was on the bed, but not asleep; he works at the gasworks all night—I went out of the room for four or five minutes, and when I fame back my mother was standing up against the table, and I could not see the baby—the front window was open—I noticed a strange look in my mother's face, and asked her what was the matter—she said, "I have done it"—I went to the window, looked out, and saw the baby lying on the ground below the window—the ground is not paved, it is all garden—I went down and picked the baby up, and brought him upstairs—he was alive then—I told my father, who was then asleep, about it, and ran for Dr. Burroughs, who came and attended to it and to my mother—I am thirteen years old—my little brother, two and a half years old, was in bed, and my mother said to him, "I will throw you out first" and opened the window, but I took him out of the room—that was earlier in the day, about eight a. m.—a little while after this happened my father took my mother out to go to Dr. Burroughs.
GEORGE FREDERICK BURROUGHS . I am a registered medical practitioner, of Queen's Road, Battersea—I have known the prisoner about three years—I attended her once for puerperal mania—that was in 1892; I had the child weaned, and in about a fortnight she got better—it cornea from over-exhaustion of the system, combined with lactation, and the
exhaustion affects the brain—she got better on the first occasion—on May 1st, about ten o'clock, she and her husband came to me—he said in her presence that she was in a low state, and he had not known what to do with her, and thought he would take her for a walk—she thought she was similar to what she had been before—I examined her; she was very excited, and did not seem conscious of what was. going on about her—she was of unsound mind at that time, and incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong; I cautioned him at the time—I was told that she had lately had another child, and I said it ought to be taken away from her—she was in a very impoverished condition of body—her husband went away with her—about twelve on the same day I was called to Willow Walk, where they lived, and in the top front room saw the dead body of a baby, of which I have since made an examination—death arose from an extensive fracture of the skull, such as would be caused by a fall from a height—I was shown the place; it was fifty-five feet high—I saw the prisoner then, and she was irresponsible and not capable of distinguishing between right and wrong—I know that she has been at an asylum for the insane at Salisbury—I believe this to be a puerperal affection.
GUILTY of the act, but so insane as not to be responsible. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. C. F. GILL with MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. KEBSHAW Defended, at the request of the COURT.
JOSEPH GAVAN . I am a printer—I did live at 13, Hercules Road, Lambeth, with my father and the prisoner, who is my brother—we all occupied a room there—my father was a printer's pressman, and my brother was a compositor—my father slept on a chair bedstead, and I and the prisoner slept together on a bed in the same room—on Sunday night, 14th May, we all went to bed about eleven—I went to sleep—I was awoke by a noise in the room not very long after I had gone to bed; it must have been near twelve—I saw my father and the prisoner struggling together—my father called out for help—I jumped out of bed and went to him—I picked up a boot to separate them—father staggered back—I could not see how he fell—I was facing the prisoner at the time, keeping him against the wall—I struck a light and saw that my father's shirt was stained with blood; he was lying on the ground on his right side—I said to the prisoner, "You have done something now; you had better dress yourself and come along with me" and I took him to the Police-station—he said, "I meant to have served you the same"—when my father called for help he said that he was stabbed—he was calling for help when I got out of bed—I did not see any knife at that time—at the station I saw the inspector, and left the prisoner in his charge, and went for a doctor—the prisoner and father had often been quarrelling before this, about the prisoner going to work—the doctor found this knife in my father's back—I had not seen it before that night—one night about two
months before this I was awoke in the night by father and the prisoner quarrelling—father said, "I can do nothing with him, he won't go into bed"—he was wandering about the room; I don't know what he was after—I had had no quarrel with him—he had not said anything to me about his food—my mother is in an asylum.
Cross-examined. She has been there over five years—the prisoner was apprenticed to Mr. Young, a printer of Tooley Street—he worked there very regularly up to a few months ago—he was always strange from a child, never what I call right in his mind, especially when by himself; he would be making motions against the wall with a broom—he was always very queer—it had been suggested that he should be sent to an asylum; not by me, but I know he ought to have been there—father treated him well—there was no reason for his dislike to my father—as soon as I took him to the station he made a statement to the inspector, which was taken down—the inspector showed it to me—it stated, "I was compelled to do it to save my life; my father and brother were conspiring together to kill me"—there is not the least truth in that, or in the statement that he was going to a place of amusement the following night in his carriage.
THOMAS MARTIN (Inspector L). At half-past twelve in the morning of 15th May the prisoner was brought to the station by his brother charged with having stabbed his father—he made this statement, which I took down in writing and read over to him. (This stated that his father and brother had threatened to kill him; that they had put lies into his food and tried to poison him; that on this night he jumped out of bed and stabbed his father in the back; that he had tried to kill him three times)—I went to Hercules Road and saw the deceased—this knife was sticking in his body, between the left shoulder-blade and the spine—I saw the doctor remove it—it is apparently a new knife—the handle was bound up so as afford a firm grip.
ROBERT GALBRAITH REID . I am a registered medical practitioner of 176, Lambeth Road—on the morning of 15th May I was called by Joseph Gavan, and went with him to Hercules Road—in a room there I saw the deceased lying in the centre of the room, on his right side, quite dead, but warm—I saw a quantity of blood on his shirt—I examined the body—I found this knife fixed in his back, just below the shoulder-blade and spine on the left side; it must have required considerable force to pierce the parts—I drew out the knife and gave it to the inspector—I made a postmortem within twenty-four hours—the thorac aorta had been transfixed by the knife—I saw the prisoner at the station and asked him cross questions—the inspector took down his statement.
Cross-examined. I thought he was insane at the time.
INSPECTOR MARTIN (Recalled). I have made inquiries at the places where the prisoner has been employed—his last employer, Mr. Young, is here—he was at Messrs. Clowes for three months, from March to June, 1890—during that time he acted very strangely—he represented that he wanted to go on the stage to take villain's parts—after that he apparently did nothing till he went to Mr. Young's as an apprentice.
three weeks ago he showed me this knife, and said he was going to stab somebody—he spoke about joining the army.
Cross-examined. I did not take any notice of what he said about stabbing somebody—I did not think he was serious—I said before the Magistrate that I did not think he meant it—he appeared strange in his behaviour.
GEORGE ELLIOT ANSTRUTHER . I am a clerk at 92, Queen's Road, Peckham—I have known the prisoner four years—from 1888 to 1892 I had frequent opportunities of observing him—he used frequently to ask me to write songs for him—he said he was going to make his appearance on the boards of the principal West-end music-halls; that he would have a carriage specially constructed for him—I formed the opinion that he was suffering from hallucinations throughout the whole four years.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer of Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation from the 15th of May up to the present time—I have examined him—physically he is of very low type indeed—his head is ill-formed—I spoke to him about why he did this, and why he was there—he said it was a life for a life; that his father and brother were trying to kill him, trying to poison him in various ways, putting lice on his food, mixing phosphorous with paraffin and putting it on his bed, and poisoning the towels he used; he was full of persecution at their hands—he persists in those ideas—he was not shamming; he believes what he says—the putting of poison in food is a very common delusion—I know the facts of this case, and I also know that his mother is at present in a lunatic asylum.
Cross-examined. That fact would tend the more to show that he is insane—his idea is that he acted in self-defence—he is undoubtedly of unsound mind at the present time.
The prisoner, in a long statement before the Magistrate, and in a letter written by him in prison, asserted that he was being poisoned, and that what he did was in self-defence.
GUILTY of the act, being insane at the time. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. BRUCE Prosecuted, and MR. PARTRIDGE Defended at the request of the COURT.
WILLIAM RITCHES . I am a traveller, and live in Crucifix Lane, Bermondsey—on Saturday evening, April 22nd, about nine, the prisoner's wife was shrieking in the top back room of the house—I assisted to get water from downstairs—I saw that the bedstead belonging to the prisoner was on fire—the room was full of smoke—there was no light in the room, only from the bed smouldering into flame—with the assistance of the prisoner's wife we put the fire out, as we thought, but we afterwards found it still burning—there were twelve persons in the house at the time, including children.
HEPZIBAH AXEN . I am the wife of Thomas Axen, of 181, Snow's Fields—about half-past nine on Saturday night, April 22nd, I went to my daughter's at 3, Crucifix Lane—when I went upstairs I saw the place full of smoke—I went up to the room and saw all the flock of the bed on
the floor, all alight, among a lot of firewood which was poked underneath the bedstead—a young woman came in with me, and we opened the window and threw the things out, and a young man and a friend threw out the mattrass into the yard, where it flared up again.
HENRY FIFE (Inspector M). About ten on the night of April 22nd the prisoner came to me at the station, and said, "I have had some words with my wife this evening; I went home, found she was out; I poured some paraffin oil on the bedclothes, and set fire to it with a match; some of the clothing was burnt"—I went to the place and found some bedclothes on the bed burnt, the wall-paper on the side burnt, and the articles which had been thrown out into the yard also burnt—I went back to the station and said to the prisoner, "You have given yourself up this evening for setting fire to your house"—he said, "I did it, and a b——good job I did"—when charged he said, "I acknowledge it"—I asked if he had a knife—he handed me this, saying, "This is what I stabbed her with this evening; if she had been there I would have set fire to her"—and pointing to Axen he said, "That is the drunkard leading my wife away"—he was sober, but excited.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about him—he is seventy-six years of age, and is a pensioner from the navy—I know nothing against him—from inquiries I have made I ascertained that on this night he was very much troubled by his wife, who had had some drink—there was a slight mark on her chin—she said it was more her fault than his—the room smelt very much of paraffin.
HENRY WRIGHT . I am in charge of the fire station in Tooley Street—on the morning of 22nd April Hitches came to me and told me that there had been a fire at his house—I went to the house and found a quantity of bedding alight in the back room, second floor—about a yard square of the wall-paper was destroyed, and about a yard square of the flooring was charred—I noticed a strong smell of paraffin oil.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am sorry for what I done".
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy on account of his age and the provocation lie had received. — Six Months without Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JUNE 26TH, 1893.