CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 26TH, 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
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OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, June 26th, 1893, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. STUART KNILL, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Right Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Esq., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., EDWARD HART , Esq., Lieut. Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., 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. NINTH 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, June 26th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRAIN Prosecuted and MR. RAYMOND Defended. JOSEPH SCOTT. On November 26th, 1892, I saw an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, in consequence of which I wrote to the prisoner, and subsequently went to the address given in the advertisement, and saw the prisoner—I told him I had called in answer to the advertisement with reference to a vacancy in his business—I asked him for references, which he gave me—I asked him if he was embarrassed in any way; he said he was not, and there was nothing to hide—he said if he had a little more money in his business it would be a help to him, and I gave him £100 to be invested in his business—this agreement was entered into between us. (This was dated 29th November, 1892, by which the prosecutor was to be engaged as an assistant for three years upon a payment of£100, £50 to be paid down, and the £100 to be repaid by instalments)—I undertook my duties on November 25th, and remained till about the middle of April—there was very little business in the office—I understood the prisoner was at Bournemouth—I did not see him again till he was arrested—I believe £10 has since been paid to my solicitor.
Cross-examined by Mr. RAYMOND. I believe the defendant is an architect and surveyor—I had been a tutor in a private school—I did not know much of this business—I had 35s. a week at first, afterwards £2—the prisoner had a business at Bournemouth, in partnership with a gentleman—altogether I have received £40 or £50 from him—I did not go into partnership with him—I have desired to withdraw this charge—I do not wish to press it.
it"—at the station he said to the prosecutor, "If I pay you this money will you withdraw?—the prosecutor made no reply.
GUILTY — Discharged on his own Recognizances.
MR. HUGHES Prosecuted.
SUSANNAH MAGDELINE EDWARDS . I live with my mother at 19, Pelham Place, South Kensington—on Saturday night, May 27th, I went to bed about ten, after seeing the house perfectly safe—I was awoke about half-past eleven by the breaking of glass—I waited a little, and then heard a second breaking of glass—I got out of bed and went to my window—I heard a window below open, and I opened my window—I heard noises below in the scullery—I then opened my door, and went on the landing and listened, and distinctly heard the latch of the passage door move a little—I then went to my mother's room—she rang her bell and I opened her window, and cried, "Police!"—a gentleman was passing, and he went and fetched the police—when I went to bed the scullery window was perfectly safe—I saw it afterwards, and it was then wide open, and a pane of glass was broken, and the bolt was broken.
Cross-examined. The door opened towards you. THOMAS NORTHERNER (Serjeant 19 B). On Saturday night, May 27th, about 11. 30, I was on duty in Pelham Place—my attention was called by a gentleman that there was someone at the back of the houses—I hurried to the spot with two constables—I stationed one in the passage, and left the other in front of the house—I went through the next house, No. 17, to No. 19—I could find no one at the back of the house—I got over the wall and searched No. 19 with my light—by that time Constable German had come through the passage with the prisoner in his custody—I said to the prisoner, "What are you doing her?"—he said, "I came down here to make water"—I took him to the station and examined his clothing—his trousers had marks of whitewash and colouring right down his leg—I afterwards examined the premises, and found whitewash and colours of the same description—I found a square of glass broken in the scullery window, the catch pushed back, and the window lifted up—the entry was made in that way—an inner door had been forced open, I should say, by pushing against it—it only had a small bolt—a square of glass was broken in the roof of the conservatory at the back.
Cross-examined. The door that was forced open opens outwards—it only took me about two minutes to get the two policemen—at first I only examined the back of the premises to see if anyone was there—I examined the other part afterwards—I found nothing on you—the wall at the back is about six feet high.
JOHN GERMAN (260 F). On Saturday night, 27th May, I was stationed behind 19, Pelham Place—hearing a noise at the back of 19, Pelham Place, I entered, and found the prisoner crouched by the side of the wall—I asked him what he was doing there—he replied, "Can't you see?"—I pulled him from the wall, and found a piece of cotton twined round his shoulder and the button of his coat—that was a piece of black cotton put by the police at the top of the wall for the purpose of detection—there was a slight indication of his having made water—at the station I examined
the prisoner's clothing—I found a little lime on his knees and also on the toes of his boots—I called the sergeant's attention to it, and also the inspector's.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in December, 1892.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour ,
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GEORGE MARK . I live and keep a tripe shop at 150, Essex Road, Islington—on the evening of May 24th I shut up my house and went to bed—this accordion was in my parlour—about eleven next morning it was gone, and I went for the police—the glass of the back window had been broken, and the window raised—the breaking of the glass would enable anyone to put in a hand and unfasten the catch, and lift up the window.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The window had been broken before that night—a piece sufficient to put a fist through was out, and a piece of paper pasted over it, and that paper was broken the next morning.
MORRIS PAYNE (476 N). On early morning of May 25th I was in Essex Road, and I saw the prisoner come out of 148, an unoccupied house, next door to the prosecutor's—he was carrying this black bag—I stopped him, and asked what he had in the bag—he said, "What has that to do with you?"—I questioned him again, and he said, "I have got a musical instrument and some boots in the bag"—I asked him where he got them from—he said, "Mind your own business"—I took him to the station, where I searched him, and found he had got twenty-one pairs of boots and this accordion, twelve skeleton keys, a jemmy, a piece of candle, and a box of matches—he gave the name of Emanuel, but refused his address and occupation.
Cross-examined. Two men going along Upper Street gave me information before I saw you coming out of the house.
The prisoner, in his defence, said he saw two men leaving the house, and thought it was empty, as the door was open, and that he went in and saw the things behind the door, and took them.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in January, 1890.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour
581. AUGUSTUS RELF (62) , PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the shop of Robert Fryer and others, and stealing two boxes of cigars and other goods; also to being found by night with housebreaking implements in his possession; also to a conviction of felony at this Court in March, 1889, in the name of Thomas Williams.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
GUILTY .—CRISPE**— One Year and Ten Months' Hard Labour —SMITH— Discharged on recognizances.
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, June 26th, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
EDMUND SALISBURY CHESSMAN . I am a tobacconist, of 19, Brewer Street, Regent Street—on 24th May, about ten o'clock, I served the prisoner with a twopenny cigar—he gave me a florin—I told him it was bad—he said he did not know it; he got it at Ilford or Chingford the previous day—he wrote down his address on this paper, which I handed to Greenwood, and said he was employed at Parkins and Gotto's, so I let him go; but I went up the street after him, and gave him in custody—this is the coin.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not say that you sold flowers in the street opposite Parkins and Gotto's.
A. GREENWOOD (Police Sergeant C). I took the prisoner—he said he did not know the coin was bad; he took it at Chingford yesterday—I found nothing on him—at the station he gave his name, "George Dawson, 16, Warren Street, Tottenham Court Road," but he also gave the names of Woodman, and Browning, and several names.
Prisoner's defence. I got the coin the day before at Chingford in change for a sovereign. I did not know it was bad. I had quite enough of prison the last time, and lost a good home.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in November, 1892, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Discharged on Recognizances.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
REBECCA ANGAR . I am barmaid at the Lord Nelson, Bishopsgate Street Without—on May 20th I served the prisoner with half a pint of ale—he shuffled a florin to me, instead of putting it down—I bit it, and doubled it with my fingers, and took it to my mistress, who gave it to my master, who bent it, and asked the prisoner if he knew it was bad—he said "No"—he wanted to have it back, and to give me a half-crown.
MRS. HATTERMORE. My husband keeps the Lord Nelson—on May 20th the last witness handed me this florin—I passed it to my husband.
THOMAS HATTERMORE . My wife handed me this florin—I tried it in the tester, and found it bad—I said to the prisoner, "This is bad"—he pulled out two half-crowns, and asked me to take one of them—I said "No"—he asked me to give him the coin back—I said "No," and he ran out—I went after him, and gave him in custody.
CHRISTOPHER ADAMS (892 City). I saw Mr. Hattermore stop the prisoner—he said to me, "This man has been trying to pass a bad two shilling-piece at my house"—I took him to the station—he said, "I got it
in change for a sovereign yesterday somewhere in Poplar"—I found on him two half-crowns and a sixpence—I received this florin from Mr. Hattermore.
Prisoner's defence. I got it accidentally when I changed a sovereign the day before. Of course, I did not stop in the public-house to be taken to the station.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
NELLY WICK . I manage a dairy for my husband at 33, Church Farm Road—on June 3rd the prisoner and another man came in and asked for a glass of milk, price Id.—the other man tendered this florin (Produced)—I threw it in the till; there was no silver there—I gave him 1s. 11d. change—the other man then put down a florin and called for a glass of milk—I noticed that it was bad, and called my husband—the prisoner threw down a penny and ran off—the other man slipped out of the shop while I was serving the prisoner.
WILLIAM WICK . I am the husband of the last witness—she called me, and the prisoner ran away—I gave chase, and never lost sight of him till he got inside the pencil factory—a policeman went in and brought him out.
GRORGE GARROD (Policeman). I received information, and saw the prisoner on the roof of a pencil factory, six storeys high—I went up and found him concealed behind a chimney, and a florin between some. timber within his reach—I asked Rim how he came by it—he said he did not know, but he and a friend had been gambling, and he supposed he got it in that way—I asked his address—he said he had no fixed abode.
Prisoner's defence. I ran away because I was frightened, and went up six flights of stairs and got behind a sign-board.
GUILTY .— Four Months' Hard Labour.
COX PLEADED GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted and MR. BURNIE Defended.
ISAAC HUMPHREYS (Detective T). On 18th June I was on duty in. King's Road, Fulham, with Fowler, another officer, and saw the three prisoners walking together—I followed them to the corner of Nelson Parade—Jones went into No. 7, a greengrocer's shop, and asked for half a pound of tomatoes—I said, "Serve this young fellow first"—the woman did so, and I saw her give him change, and found Jones had given her a base coin—I went out—they all three went along the street together—we followed them a mile towards Putney Bridge—they turned round and joined one another twice or three times—I got the assistance of another officer and stopped them on Putney Bridge, and told them the charge—Jones put his hand in his pocket—I said "Give me that," and found this packet of coins—we took them to Walham Green Station
—I searched Cox and found these coins on him—I told the three that they would be charged with uttering a counterfeit shilling; they made no reply—I then told Cox he would be charged with having nine counterfeit shillings and three counterfeit florins with intent to pass them—he said, "Yes; they would have been passed but for your stopping us."
H. FOWLER (Inspector T). I was with Humphreys in plainclothes—I took Ellacott, and Humphreys said in the hearing of all three that they would be charged with uttering—Ellacott gave his address, at the station, 73, Felton Street, Oxford Street, and Jones at White Horse Chambers—we have been there but cannot find anything about him.
Cross-examined. It is a common lodging-house, much frequented.
GUILTY .—JONES— Four Months' Hard Labour. ELLACOTT*— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAM TELBURY . I am a builder's foreman—on May 27th I was employed at 52, Fore Street—I left at 12. 15, leaving no one on the premises—when I returned I found the prisoner inside the hoarding, on a ladder taking a door down to get out—I called a constable and gave him in charge—he had two tools by his side which belong to me, and two baskets of tools belonging to another man, White—he had taken one screw out of the door and half of another—he wished me not to lock him op as he was hard up—the tools had been taken from the third floor—I saw no other man.
WILLIAM THOMAS WHITE . I am a carpenter and joiner, of 26, Elling Road, Stratford—I was working at 52, Fore Street, and left at 12. 30 on Saturday, leaving two baskets there—I went there again at six a. m. on Tuesday, and missed them; I found them at the station—they contained twenty-eight tools.
WILLIAM MILLS (City Policeman). On May 27th I was called to 52, Fore Street, by Telbury, who said there was a man on the premises—the prisoner came down from a wooden platform outside the building—I said, "How did you get in?"—he made no reply—he afterwards said, "I went below and got myself locked in"—I took him to the station—he gave his name as George Davis, but when another man recognised him he changed his name.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that another man took him into the house to look for work, and on returning they found themselves locked in, and were taking the screws off the door to get out when the foreman returned.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT, Tuesday, June 27th, and
NEW COURT, Wednesday, June 28th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
590. THOMAS CONNOR (32), JAMES ARMSTRONG (25), and CHARLES PACKARD (22), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Lewis Levy, and stealing a coat and other articles; also to having been each previously convicted of felony.
CONNOR— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. ARMSTRONG and PACKARD— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
PLEADED GUILTY .
WILLIAM HOPKINS . I live at 50, Nelson Square, Blackfriars—on 22nd April I drew two cheques, one for £8 10s. 6d.; and the other for £7 6s.3d., payable to the order of Mrs. E. Spofforth—they are now endorsed "E. Spofforth"—I put them in an envelope, and addressed it to "J. Branford, coachman to Mrs. Spofforth, 79, Cadogan Place"—it should have been addressed to 79, Little Cadogan Place; I made the mistake—in consequence of not receiving any acknowledgment of the letter, I went to my bankers on the 2nd May, and found that the cheques had been paid in.
JOSEPH BRANFORD . I am coachman to Mrs. Spofforth, of 79, Little Cadogan Place—I never received these two cheques—I expected to receive them, and wrote to Hopkins—I do not know either of the prisoners.
ELIZABETH SPOFFORTH . I live at 15, St. George's Place, Hyde Park—these cheques should have come to me through my coachman, Branford, who is my collector—I never received them—these endorsements are not mine, or written by my authority.
JOHN DAWSON . I am a labourer, and live in Roby Street, Pimlico—on Sunday, 23rd April, these cheques were shown to me by Honeyball in the kitchen at 79, Cadogan Place—Trainer was there, and heard what Honeyball said—she asked me if I would go to Newington Butts and get them changed for her—I said I would try in the morning—she said they had come from her late mistress, that one was for wages and the other for clothes which she had pledged for her mistress—they were crossed cheques—I have no banking account—I took them to the bank in Newington Butts, and they said they must come through a banker—I went back to Mrs. Honeyball and gave them to her—Trainer was present—I took them across to the Rising Sun and left them with the landlord, and two days afterwards he gave me the amount, £15 16s. 9d., which I took to Honeyball, in Trainer's presence—she said, "What are you going to pay the gentleman for his trouble?" and Honeyball gave me 3s.
EDWIN DOLDER . I am landlord of the Rising Sun—I cashed these two cheques for Dawson and handed him the money on the 26th—I paid the cheques into my bank, and they were honoured—I knew Trainer as a customer—I asked what they were for, and they said for Honeyball's wages.
ELLEN TAYLOR . I live at 12, Camera Square, Chelsea—I have known the prisoner Trainer two years—I saw her on Thursday afternoon, 27th April—she came to me to go out shopping with her—she had seven or eight sovereigns in her puree—we went to a pawnbroker's, and she took some things out of pawn and afterwards made some purchases.
HENRY JONES (Detective V). On 15th May I arrested Honeyball at Clare, in Suffolk—she was detained there on this charge—she had already made a statement which had been put in writing—I brought her to London—on 23rd May I arrested Trainer in Ebury Street—I told her I should take her into custody for being concerned with Honeyball in stealing a letter and forging two endorsements on two cheques—she said, "Very well, I am on my way to the Court"—at the station I read to Trainer the statement which Honeyball had made—after hearing it read, Trainer said, "It is a lie." (The statement was read as follows;—"I was led into this by my cousin's wife, Mrs. Trainer, with whom I was staying. She had the money and pawned my clothes as well. My cousin's husband is a police constable; he knew I had the money; he was caretaker at the house.")
HENRY EMMENS . The prisoner Trainer is my daughter—I was living with her at 79, Cadogan Place, where she was caretaker—she can write a little, not much; this letter is my writing—she asked me to write it—she did not exactly dictate it to me, she told me what to write; it was written to Mary Honeyball—the envelope is directed to her at Dunston Grove, near Newmarket—Trainer gave me that address—Honeyball had been living in the house about a week or ten days. (This letter stated that they were in a lot of trouble about this affair, that search was being made for her, and the best thing she could do was to try and get a place in the country for some months, and keep out of the way.)
Trainer. I know nothing about about the letter; I never wrote to Mary in my life.
FREDERICK CHURCH (Inspector V). On 5th May I was making inquiries into this matter—I went to 79, Cadogan Place, and saw Trainer—I told her I was a police inspector, and was making inquiries respecting a letter sent by post containing two cheques addressed to Mr. Branford, which letter was found on Mary—I said, "Who is Mary?"—she said, "She is a servant out of a situation, and has been lodging here about six weeks"—I said, "Do you know anything of the cheques?"—she said, "I saw her with two cheques which she told me her mistress had sent, one for wages, and one for some clothing which had been in pledge"—I said, "Did she give you any of the money"—she said, "No, I only charged her 7s. a week for her board and lodging, and she has not. paid me anything since she has been here"—I said, "Do you know where she has gone?"—she said, "No; I saw her on Monday night, and when I went to call next morning she had gone"—on the 23rd, I saw her at Rochester Row Station in the presence of Honeyball—I saw the written statement which she had made, and I read it over to her, and I said to Trainer, "Do you know what your cousin is charged with?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "She has made a statement implicating you"—she said, "It is a lie"—Honeyball said, "You know it is the truth; you only gave me 3s. to spend, and 2s. to pay my fare to Clare"—she was then charged; she made no reply.
MARY HONEYBALL (the prisoner). Trainer's husband is my cousin—in April last I was staying with her at 79, Cadogan Place—I have pleaded guilty to forging and uttering these cheques; I was in want and in trouble at the time, my clothes being all in pledge, and was out of a situation—I am a domestic servant—I remember this letter arriving; I took it out
of the letter-box—I thought it was a circular, and opened it—I found it contained these two cheques; being in want it tempted me, and I took the cheques—I signed the name on the back of the cheques—I showed them to Trainer before signing them; I told her they were for my wages and clothes—she said, "Oh, very well"—I showed her the letter, but she cannot read or write—I signed the names in her presence—I gave the cheques to Dawson, and he brought me the money—I kept all of it—I gave my cousin £7 out of it to buy clothes and to get some clothes from pledge—I owed her for six weeks' board and lodging—I don't know how much; I owed her 7s. a week—I wanted to go into the country, to Suffolk—I got the money for it out of this—I had about £8—I gave Trainer the £7 to buy three dresses for me, which I took away with me in a parcel—I spent the £8; I cannot now say how—this is a statement I made in Holloway Prison—it is my writing, and I signed it—I also made a statement at the Police-station at Glare, and signed it—when I was brought to London, that statement was read over at the station in Trainer's presence—she said it was untrue; I said it was quite true—I did say I was led into this by her, but I made a mistake—I also said she had the money, but that was false; I did not know what I was saying; it is all untrue—I told Trainer that I was entitled to this money, that it came from my mistress—I never received this letter from Trainer's father; I have never seen it before to-day—I gave Dawson three shillings for his trouble in changing the cheques; he gave me the whole of the £15.
The prisoner, in a written defence, stated that the saw some papers in. Trainer's hand, which she said was her wages from her last situation, and she gave them to Dawson, who brought her back£15; and she gave her£7 to buy her some dresses, but did not receive one penny of the money, nor had she any knowledge of the meanings or value of cheques.
NOT GUILTY .—There were two other indictments against the prisoners for stealing the letter and forging the endorsement to the other cheque, to which
HONEYBALL also PLEADED GUILTY . No evidence was offered against.
TRAINER. HONEYBALL— Six Months' Hard Labour.
CHARLES L'ENFANT . I am a clerk in the Bankruptcy Division of the High Court of Justice—I produce the file of proceedings in the prisoner's bankruptcy—his petition was filed on May 12th, 1892, and the receiving order and adjudication were the same day—the statement of affairs was sworn on May 30th—the gross liabilities are £4,215 2s.11d., of which £3,757 7s.3d. was expected to rank, and the assets were £283 6s. 1d., the deficiency being £3,556 16s. 10d.—among the assets at the date of filing the petition is cash in hand, £48 12s.; at the bank, £2 9s.9d—beyond that there is no mention of cash in hand—in the list of partially secured creditors I find, "Charles Morgan, 100, Benally Road, New Wandsworth, £100 for money lent; security, lease of stables"—this is the cash account (filed on July 12th, 1892, by order of the Court) of all
the prisoner's receipts and payments between March 19th and May 12th, 1892—on April 8th there are entries of the receipt of four sums, amounting to £538, part proceeds of a cheque for £563—on April 11th is a payment to Dowland of £10—there is no other payment to Dowland after that—at the end of the cash account I see "Losses on betting, £370."
Cross-examined. It appears that he received for betting £73—accounts similar to these are made up by accountants—there is a sum of £34 10s. in the accounts for accountant and solicitor—the trustee in bankruptcy is here—I know nothing about the bankruptcy of McPhearson and Co.—I believe six other people are in liquidation through the failure of McPhearson.
GEORGE BLAGRAVE SNELL . I am one of the official shorthand writers to the Bankruptcy Court—I took shorthand notes of the prisoner's public examination on 21st June, and the private examination on 8th August, 8th September, 26th October, and 10th November, 1892—this is the transcript of those notes—I have compared it with the original notes, and it is correct.
JOSEPH LAMB I am assistant clerk to the Fulham Board of Guardians—I know the prisoner—this is a cheque dated 7th April, 1892, for £563 1 1s. 1d., drawn to the order of the Board in favour of the prisoner—it is endorsed "James Spragg"—this is the receipt.
ARTHUR PAINTER . I am clerk in charge of the Walham Green branch of the London and South-Western Bank—the prisoner banked with us—he brought the cheque to us, and I guaranteed the endorsement on it as genuine, and sent it on to the West Brompton branch of our bank—this is a certified copy of a portion of the prisoner's account at our bank—our bank is a limited company, and makes a return—John Dowland has an account at our branch; he brought £300 in Bank of England notes in May, I believe—the effects book is one of our ordinary bank books; in it are entered, in the ordinary course of business, the numbers and particulars of bank notes received—I have made this copy of the entries in the book of the notes brought by Dowland on 11th May, and have examined it with the original, and it is correct. (MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the copy of the entries being referred to, as it was not a complete copy of the entries in the book. The witness was directed to bring the effects book from the bank.)
JOHN HOLLOWAY . I am cashier at the West Brompton branch of the London and South-Western Bank—the prisoner brought me this cheque on April 8th, and I handed him £500 in notes and £63 11s. Id. in cash—I had two lots of notes in the bank that day, dirty and clean, and I paid the prisoner £500 out of the dirty notes—I paid no one else out of those dirty notes, but sent the remainder on to the Bank of England—we open at nine a. m., and we send our dirty notes on about ten a. m.—the effects book is one of our ordinary books; we enter in it numbers and particulars of all notes coming to our branch—there would appear a list of the notes in the bank that morning, and the source from whence they came, and their numbers and dates—I have made this copy; it is a complete list of all the dirty notes.
numbers, values, and dates of notes received by us from the London and South-Western Bank on April 8th.
JOHN HOLLOWAY (Re-examined). I have compared the list from the Bank of England with that out of which I paid the prisoner—the value of the notes in my list is £1,175, those in Mr. Williams's list £655—there is a clerical error of £20—the £1,175 consisted of a £100 note, number 13505; a £50 note, 20797; three £20 notes, 35115, 35116, 03553; seven £10 notes, and 179£5 notes—those notes are included in my list and not in Mr. Williams's.
BERTHA MORGAN . I am a pupil teacher, living with my parents at The Laurels, Epsom—the prisoner, who is my cousin, brought me a letter in April, I think—I read it—he left it with me—I cannot tell you what I did with it afterwards; I think it was burnt, but I would not be quite certain—all the letters were destroyed, I could not say by whom—we burnt it at home, I believe—I live with my father, Charles Morgan—the prisoner said nothing about the letter but simply gave it to me, and I answered it—I asked the prisoner what I should say—he said, "If I were writing the letter I should say so-and-so," and then I wrote the letter—whatever I wrote in reply was in substance what he told me—this is the letter—it is directed to Mr. Henderson. (This stated that he was not prepared to pay anything for Mr. Henderson's interest in the lease of Norman's stable, but that he sent lease for perusal. It was signed C. Morgan.)
CHARLES MORGAN . I live at Epsom, and am a gardener—in 1882 I lent the prisoner £100—I had two I O U's of his as security, and in 1890 I also had the lease of some stables as additional security—on April 9th, 1892, the prisoner came and paid my wife the £100 in a note—I was not in; I saw him as he was coming away—I had never asked him to pay, nor pressed him for payment—he paid me interest at 5 per cent.—I kept the note till it was convenient to go and pay it into the bank—I paid it into my account at the London and County Bank, Epsom branch, on May 2nd—I believe my daughter wrote this letter in the prisoner's presence, but I would not be certain—I know he brought a letter—I never lived at Benally Road; I have been there—it is not my address—I knew nothing about my being set out as a partly-secured creditor in the bankrupt's statement of affairs.
FREDERICK CRESSWELL . I am clerk at the Epsom branch of the London and County Bank—I produce a certified copy of the account of Charles Morgan—the £100 note (13505) was paid in to his account on May 2nd, 1892.
(Mr. Stephenson read portions of the shorthand notes of the prisoner's examination in bankruptcy.)
JOHN MCDONALD HENDERSON . I am a chartered accountant, and was appointed trustee in the prisoner's bankruptcy on June 4th, 1892—I am also trustee in McPhearson's bankruptcy—it was the prisoner's practice to accept bills drawn by McPhearson and Co.—at the date of the bankruptcy McPhearson had drawn bills for £2,700—the prisoner owed McPhearson at the time of McPhearson's failure £3,800, for which McPhearson had drawn £2,700 and discounted on the Bank of Scotland—so long as McPhearson went on propping the prisoner up he could go n, but when McPhearson came down the prisoner came down too—the
prisoner was a coal merchant—I found in the cash-book a sum of £608 not accounted for—proceedings were taken before Mr. Justice Vaughan Williams to set aside the payment to Dowland of £300 as fraudulent and void against me, and as to Morgan's £100 that was a fraudulent preference—I received this letter from the young lady in answer to a letter of mine addressed to Morgan at Benally Road—I have a copy of the letter I wrote in my letter-book.
Cross-examined. McPhearson failed for £64,000—he did not bring down five or six others; they brought him down—five or six other persons failed in the same way as the prisoner, that is, they owed McPhearson money, and he went on giving them credit till he failed—McPhearsons are wholesale coal merchants—I first took counsel's opinion about this matter with reference to criminal proceedings in this case immediately before application was made; I cannot tell the date—the application was to prosecute the prisoner and Dowland—I knew about the £300 and the £100 some time about October or November—the moment I knew of it I brought the thing before the Chief Judge—it took time to get these facts out—the Chief Judge heard it in February, and immediately after that I took evidence—the application to Mr. Justice Vaughan Williams was put down in December, but was not reached till February—after the Chief Judge's decision I took counsel's opinion—the prisoner was a long time under examination in bankruptcy, and was asked a great many questions—my suspicions were aroused in this case from the very first—from the moment I found a cash-book not made up, I suspected the bankrupt—I have acted as trustee in a hundred bankruptcies—when I find a cash-book that has hitherto been made up, and then it it not made up, and when I find a balance of £600 stopping short, I begin to suspect it—this man kept a cash account—it was capitally kept—his turnover would be about £20 or £30, or perhaps £40 a week—all his books were capitally kept—I do not know that he only got commission on coal he sold—it is not the fact, because I have looked into the books—the prisoner did not accept accommodation bills for McPhearson—he never accepted for McPhearson for anything more than he owed them at any time, so far as I can make out—I should think I have seen the prisoner a dozen times—I have seen him about three times at my office—I should think the longest interview I had with him at my office lasted from two to ten minutes—I don't think I ever examined him at my office as to any entries in the books—I applied for his examination before the Registrar—on one or two occasions the prisoner was sent for to the office to give an explanation as to the book debts—he gave it, I believe—he had a lot of book debts standing in his ledger which I found out afterwards were paid, and I had to get an explanation of it.
Re-examined. There is no suggestion that the prisoner is illiterate—his books were perfectly well kept—he was a member of the Fulham Vestry.
JOHN HOLLOWAY (Re-examined). I have compared the three lists, the list from the Bank of England, the list produced by Mr. Painter, and my own list—that includes the dirty notes handed to Spragg and forwarded to the Bank of England—I did not take the numbers of them—that is a
complete list; they are all included—I am quite certain that all the dirty notes were those paid to the Bank of England—I have compared' the lists from B to E, list B E and list C, and I find the numbers in list C are notes which were handed by me to Spragg on April 8th—I have on these exhibits marked the notes which appear on both—that would be so in list E, and in my own list, C—that exhausts them all; that makes £300, but there is still £100 short.
J. M. HENDERSON (Re-examined). I was in correspondence with the trustee in June, 1892, and received the letter from him dated June 18th, which has been read.
The prisoner received cm excellent character.
GUILTY on the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth Counts. — Three Months as a first-class misdemeanant.
MESSRS. BESLEY and STAPLETON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN
JAMES WROTTESLEY NOEL . I am a cashier at Hoare's Bank, Fleet Street—on 21st April this cheque for £24 2s.6d. was presented to me—the drawer is Lemprier Brothers, who are customers of ours—it is payable to the order of J. Jennings—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man I paid the money to—I have known him for years—I have here ten cheques which have passed through our bank to Lamprier and Brown's account—the earliest is November 14th, 1892—they were all paid at the counter, and the amounts have been charged against Lemprier's account.
Cross-examined. It was not at all unusual to write a cheque on blank paper—I was subpœnaed to the Mansion House and saw the prisoner in the dock—I had not seen him till then—the counter at Hoare's Bank faces the window.
Re-examined. My impression was that it was in the afternoon—there was plenty of light.
ROBERT STRICKLAND . I am a cashier at Messrs. Hoare's—I cashed this cheque for £57 14s.7d. on November 15th, to the best of my knowledge, to the prisoner—it is dated the 14th—I had seen him in the bank before—on 18th April I cashed this cheque for £23 4s.2d. over the counter to the best of my belief to the prisoner—I asked why it was on plain paper—he said Mr. Lemprier was in the country, and had not got his cheque-book.
Cross-examined. I have many opportunities of judging handwriting—the words "or order" on these cheques are quite dissimilar, and, as far as I can judge, the two cheques are written by different persons, except the signatures—the other cheques are very likely written by different persons, but I think some are written by the same person—I attended at the Mansion House by subpoena, and saw the prisoner in the dock—I did not pick him out.
Re-examined. I think four different persons wrote these cheques, and eleven are written by the same person.
By MR. BESLEY. I do not see any resemblance between the figure 4 in exhibit A and the figures 4 in the other two cheques which I cashed—I
should say these two cheques are written by one person, and the third by a different person—these two others are written by a different person, but the signature is the same in all, and it resembles the original signature in every way.
HARRY READ LEMPRIER . I am a solicitor, of 56, Lincoln's Inn Fields—I practice as Lemprier and Brown, but there is no Mr. Brown—the prisoner was in my employ for ten years down to January, 1891, when he left at my request—he was an engrossing clerk, and a very able penman—he knew where I banked—this is not my signature to this cheque for £24 2s.6d., nor is it written by my authority, but it is a good imitation—the prisoner saw my signature every day the body of the cheque is in his writing; I cannot swear to the endorsement, but it may be his—I cannot swear to the body of this cheque for £57 14s. 3d., but the signature is the prisoner's, without a doubt—it is like mine, but his ordinary signature is not like mine—I have not got a letter-book here, but I can send for one—he was constantly signing Lemprier and Brown in the letter book, and got into the habit of writing like myself—I cannot swear that the endorsement is his—this cheque of 24th December, 1892, for £20 5s. is not signed by me or by my authority—both the body and the signature are the prisoner's, but I cannot swear positively to the endorsement—it is an imitation of my signature—I should say the body of this cheque of December 27th, 1892, for £24 7s., in favour of Mr. Richards, is the prisoner's writing; I cannot swear to the endorsement—the body of this cheque of 10th January, 1893, is not his writing, but the signature is his, and I did not authorise him to sign it—both the body and endorsement and signature of this cheque of February 1st, 1893, are in the prisoner's writing, and without authority—this cheque for £10 3s., of February 9th, is in the prisoner's writing; it is drawn to J. Jones—the signature is the prisoner's; I cannot swear to the endorsement—both the body and signature of this cheque of 2nd March, for £25 2s.9d., in favour of J. Jenkins, are the prisoner's, but I cannot swear to the endorsement—comparing that with the one on which he is being charged, I have no doubt they are by the same hand, and they are the prisoner's writing—this cheque of April 8th is on my lithographed letter paper—he came to the office after he was discharged, and the paper was lying about—I cannot positively say in whose writing the body of this cheque to C. Castans for £29 11s.5d. is, but the signature is the prisoner's, and I am nearly sure the endorsement is—this cheque of April 10th for £20 68. 3d. in favour of Simpson is on my letter paper—the body and the signature and endorsement are in the prisoner's writing, and not authorised by me—the body of this cheque of 18th April for £23 4s.2d. in favour of Sanders is the prisoner's, and the signature and endorsement, and not authorised by me—the letter-book is in daily use in the office—I referred to two letters; the one on the left has my signature—mine is signed Lemprier and Company—I have no Lemprier and Brown there.
Cross-examined. This cheque of February 1st for £29 18s.6d. is in the prisoner's handwriting—he is perfectly capable of writing like this—I have no doubt it is his—I generally have my pass-book made up every week, sometimes it goes for a fortnight, but it was taken away altogether and never brought back—it was lost at the end of March—my cashier had had it within a month—I had a new clerk to keep the ledger, and
he ought to have called my attention to the two or three, cheques drawn on white paper, but he did not—he came last August—all those cheques were written by the prisoner—anybody could see that they are not my writing.
Re-examined. There are two copy letters here both signed Lemprier and Co. by the prisoner—the "Feb." is in his writing—I have no doubt, comparing this with the "Feb." in the letter-book, that, they are written by the same hand; the general character is the same—I never draw cheques on pieces of paper—as the pass-book was not returned the cheques were not returned.
HENRY TAYLOR (City Detective Inspector). On Saturday, 3rd June, I saw the prisoner in custody at the Bridewell Station—I said, "You will be charged with forging and uttering a cheque for £57 odd on Messrs. Hoares, and other cheques amounting to £35 4s."—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I showed him this cheque.
Cross-examined. He was searched at the station, and two pawn-tickets were found on him.
H. R. LEMPRIKR (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). His wife coming to the office and kicking up a row sometimes was not the principal reason of my discharging him—he was discharged for neglect of duty; he was constantly absent from the office.
GUILTY — Three Years' Penal Servitude.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, June 27th, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
596. AMY SUTTON** (43) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Heagarty, and stealing a shirt and other articles, having been convicted at Clerkenwell on December 5th, 1892.— Six Months' Hard Labdur. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
597. GEORGE MATTHEWS (45) and WILLIAM CROSS (27) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Elizabeth Stock, with intent to steal, having both been before convicted.— MATTHEWS,** Eighteen Months' Hard Labour;
CROSS,** Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
599. JOHN MCKENZIE (38) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Mary Wood, and stealing a shade and other articles, her property, and also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Kurtz, and stealing a book, his property.— Four. Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
(600). WILLIAM HENRY HELE (60) , to unlawfully obtaining goods on credit from divers persons without informing them that he was an uncertificated bankrupt.— One Month's Imprisonment as a first-class misdemeanant. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
Stratford—on May 21st, about 12. 30, the prisoner caught hold of my right arm, and I think she asked me to buy a box of matches—I walked on several paces, and she got behind me and pinned my arms—a man came from a doorway and struck me two blows on my forehead—a second man put his hand into my trousers pocket and pulled my pocket entirely out—I had a purse with fifteen sovereigns in it, and a gold watch and pendant—I do not remember anything after I was knocked down—I saw two policemen standing there and said, "That is the woman who helped to rob me"—this is my pendant (Produced)—I could recognise one of the men.
RICHARD CARPENTER (214 C). On May 20th I was on duty about 12. 30 and saw the prisoner running—I asked her what she was running for—she said, "There is a woman up there; I don't want to go back"—I saw her put her hand to her tie and drop something, which Deacon picked up—we took her back to the prosecutor, who was just getting up; his face was bleeding and he had a cut on his temple.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ROBERT DELF . I am a labourer, of 130, Crown Street, Poplar, and am caretaker of the Mission Hall, 130, Grundy Street—on May 13 I saw the door of the outhouse open, and then half close, and then entirely close, and a curtain was pulled as if somebody was looking through—I went to the other window and called out, "Who is there?"—nobody answered: I called again, and nobody answered—I called, "Policeman, I want you," though there was no policeman there—I went to the kitchen to get a poker, and saw the prisoner run to the door—I saw him again three parts out of the window—I got hold of his legs and pulled him inside—my wife came down, and I told her to go for the police—the prisoner said if I was a man I should let him go—the window shutter of the Mission Hall was wrenched off—I saw it safe at 10. 30 the night previous.
THOMAS WHARTON (73 K R). On May 30th the prisoner was handed over to me at Poplar Station—I charged him—he said, "I had nowhere to go; I had been walking about all night, and I went in to lie down and have a rest"—I found two knives and a match-box on him.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he had been walking about for several days, not being able to pay for a lodging, awl went into the Mission Hall, not to steal but for shelter.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GREENFIELD Prosecuted and MR. BURNEY Defended.
Road, Holloway—on Saturday, 27th May, just before nine p. m., I went out, leaving no one in the house—the fastenings were all secure—Mr. Nobbs is my lodger; he occupies the two rooms on the first floor—I was away about twenty minutes—Mr. Hall came back with me—the door would not open, but Mr. Hall got in, and then I went to the first landing—I heard a noise, and he got a poker—the prisoner came from the back room, and there was a dreadful struggle—I called the police, and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Cross-examined. I left the lights burning, when I went out, in the hall, kitchen, and parlour, but there was no light on the landing—I had no jemmy in my possession, nor had my husband.
RICHARD HUGH HALL . I live at 13, Caledonian Road, Islington—I was with Mrs. Williams on that night, and followed her into the house—she was going in, and I heard a noise—she asked me if I made it—I said "Yes," because I did not want to startle her—the prisoner came from the first floor, with something lifted up in his hand, and struck me on my head with it—Mrs. Hall called the police, and the prisoner was taken—I saw the jemmy, or a similar one, picked up on the landing.
Cross-examined. I took a broken poker up—there was no light on the landing, but it was not dark—I was actually struck, but it did not graze the skin; it is simply a bruise.
HORACE ARTHUR NOBBS . I am a traveller for John Dewar and Sons, whisky distillers, and occupy the first floor at 48, Lime Street—the back room is my bedroom—on Saturday evening, May 27th, I had two old watches, which I bought of the niggers in Africa, an aneroid, and other articles—I have identified them—they were safe in a box in my bedroom when I went out.
WILLIAM STOCKS (Policeman). At a little after nine I was called to Mrs. Williams, and saw Mr. Hill struggling with the prisoner—Barton and I took him into custody, and Barton fell, or was thrown, to the bottom of the stairs—the property was found in the right-hand pocket of the prisoner's coat—we returned and searched the place, and the sergeant picked up this jemmy.
Cross-examined. He said he would go quietly if I would let go of him—I did not see my way to do that.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction in March, 1889, at Chelmsford.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BROMLEY Prosecuted, and Mr. KEITH FRITH Defended Lawrence.
Terrace—on June 8th, about five o'clock, I was in the back yard—the front door was latched; you cannot open it from the front—I heard a noise at the front door and waited a few minutes, and then went into the house and saw a man rush out at the front door—it was Shelton, to the best of my knowledge—another man came out of the room; I took hold of him by his neck, but he escaped—that was not Lawrence—my husband was at home, but he was in bed asleep.
Cross-examined by Shelton. I did not see your face, you concealed it as you went out—I saw your side face.
ALBERT HOWELL . I live at 12, Oaklands Road—on June 8th, between 3.30 and four o'clock, I was at Cricklewood, about 200 yards from Grafton Terrace, and saw the two prisoners and another man come out of the gate of 19, Grafton Terrace—they went to Wall House where the prosecutor had them charged—I saw them go towards Oatlands Road, and at 5. 15 I saw the two prisoners walk up a little way, and a constable stopped them.
WILLIAM THURLOW . I am a draper, of 23, Needham Terrace, which is close to Grafton Terrace—on June 8th, about 5. 15, I was coming from Needham Terrace towards Grafton Terrace, and met the prisoner Lawrence—I heard Mrs. Walker holloa "Stop thief!"—I ran after a man who escaped.
WILLIAM WILLS (180 X). On June 8th I was on duty in Warne Lane, four or five hunderd yards from Grafton Terrace—I received information and followed the two prisoners, who were just in front of me; I told them they must go with me—Lawrence said they had been to the Welsh Harp, and as they came back they saw a man get over the fence and run across the fields—I took them to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I had not taken Lawrence in custody before he said that; they were going to the station till the witnesses came.
Cross-examined by Shelton. There is a witness Read here—I took you back to the house before I took you to the station—there were twenty or thirty people there—I did not hear them say that you were not the men.
HENRY GORMAN (Police Sergeant 26 S). I was in Hendon Police station when the prisoners were brought in—Lawrence gave an address, and a telegram came saying that he had lived there—I telegraphed to Hoxton about Shelton's address, and an answer came that Mr. Shelton was then at the station—I examined the door of 19, Grafton Terrace—there were two very strong latches on it; you could not get in from the outside without one key—I found two distinct jemmy marks, one an inch and a quarter wide, and the other two inches—the door was forced from the outside.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CORSER Prosecuted and MR. RAYMOND Defended.
and 171/2 Per, commission, to obtain orders for watches and sewing machines—he brought the order (Produced) purporting to be signed by Elizabeth Howell, and had the machine and received 6s. 10d. commission on it—I saw some articles at a pawnbroker's—one was from Miss Harrison, of Stamford Hill, on which 5s. commission was paid—I have another of Mrs. Turner, of East Molesey—I should not have, paid him if I had not believed it.
Cross-examined. We are importers and tallymen—we employ men to go about and induce persons to buy things—we have seven or eight men in our employment, but we have never prosecuted one before—articles are never returned as not being ordered, but they are returned sometimes—I had not seen the prisoner since May 20th, and I wrote and asked him to come and give me an explanation of his conduct—my business is not carried on in a lax way; agents are not accustomed to sign the name of the people whose orders they get—if they sneaked into kitchens to get orders when the mistress was upstairs, I should discharge them—some masters object to our agents coming, and some do not—the prisoner has never written to me about returns—this is the watch.
MARY ELIZABETH HOWELL . I am a servant at West Hampstead—the prisoner came on March 11th—the prisoner came and asked if my mistress would like a machine—I said, "No"—he asked if I would have one—I said, "No"—he said, "Your mistress would not know anything about it"—I said that I should not like to do that, and I never gave him an order—this order is not signed by me, nor did I authorise anyone to sign it.
Cross-examined. The prisoner called on me several times; he first asked me about a machine, and afterwards about a watch and chain—he wrote and asked me when I would take the watch and chain.
Cross-examined. I did not sign any order, or authorise any body to do so—my name is Charlotte, and this is Helen.
Re-examined. I received a sewing machine, but I did not take it in; I returned it.
G. A. BRYANT (Re-examined). This letter is in the prisoner's writing. (This was signed A. Freeston, and addressed to Mrs. Turnery offering to send her a sewing machine on payment of 4s. or 5s.a month.)
FREDERICK BARTLETT (Detective X). I took the prisoner on a warrant on the 9th at 23, Worcester Street, Highbury—he said, "I have had the sweets and I am going to put up with the sours"—I found at his place eighteen tickets relating to watches pledged, and three sewing machines—I charged him at the station—he made no reply.
GUILTY on the First Count (relating to the 6s.10d.).
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. CORSER Prosecuted and MR. RAYMOND Defended.
GEORGE ALFRED BRYANT . The prisoner handed me this agreement (This was signed Ethel Cunnington, and dated May 26th, promising to pay for a watch by weekly instalments to the amount of£2 2s.)—in consequence of that I parted with 5s.
ETHEL HARRISON . I live at 17, Bethune Road—this is not my signature, nor did I authorise anybody to sign it—early in May I saw the prisoner at the door, and the little girl Ethel Cunnington came to me—she is not here—she is only seven—this is not her writing.
NOT GUILTY . Sentence on the first indictment. Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 28th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and PASSMORE Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended
ALFRED ERNEST BETHELL . I live at 74, Glengall Road, Kilburn—my father-in-law lives at 50, Oxford Terrace—on the evening of 27th May I was passing along Oxford Terrace, going to my father-in-law's house—I had to pass No. 23—as I was passing I saw someone ahead of me—thinking it was my wife I whistled; I afterwards found it was not her—as I walked on a little way, in the direction of No. 50, I was seized from behind by someone who put an arm round my neck and caught me by the throat and shook me up, and forced me back to the rails of the gardens opposite the prisoner's house, for a distance of about thirty or forty yards—as I was against the railings the prisoner still had me by the throat with one hand, and with the other hand he tried to force my head over the rails—he said if I would go inside he would settle me—I had never seen him before—I asked what he meant—he said that I had been irritating him, that I had been to his place, calling out and whistling, and annoying him there two or three times that same day and before—I had not done so—he kept hold of me all this time—two or three young men came up, and then the prisoner released me and ran to his own house, No. 23, and shut the door—at the time I passed the house I did not see any concourse of people in front of it; there was not anyone there—the prisoner had no hat on at this time—the door was open when he went in, but when he went in he, or someone inside, shut it—I sent a little boy for a constable—I remained near No. 23—after a short time I saw constable Pattison come up, and I made a complaint to him—my waistcoat had been torn on both sides during the shaking, and ray tie was turned round my neck, and my collar as well—after I made my complaint to the constable he went to the door of the house—there is only one step to the door—it was closed—I heard a scream in the kitchen, and the prisoner's wife came up the area steps about ten minutes afterwards—she seemed to be either in
pain or fainting—Pattison spoke to her as she went on the doorstep of No. 22—the prisoner came to the dining-room window, opened it, and took the plants off the flower-box into the dining-room—about this time constable Maddison came up—he came to me first to see what it was all about—I made a complaint to him, and he went up to the doorstep, the door being still shut—a hospital nurse came to the doorstep, and the door was opened for her to go in—I could not see into the passage—I saw Maddison put his foot in to keep the door from being shut—at that time Maddison was alone—there was no commotion going on inside the house—the door was not shut—it appeared that someone was behind the door, pushing the door—I could not see into the passage, as the door was nearly shut—about this time constable Fraser arrived—he went on to the doorstep with Maddison—I did not see what they did—I was two doors away at the time—I heard a report of firearms, and I saw some Constables and some civilians rush to the door—after that I became quite unconscious and fainted away—a crowd gathered in front of the house after the policemen went to the door.
Cross-examine. I am an upholsterer—I have not been often past this house—I did not know the prisoner at all—I did not know that he had been subject to continued annoyance there—it was just as I went past the house that I whistled—it was just the ordinary whistle I give when I see my wife—the prisoner said I was making offensive noises with my mouth—he said that while he was shaking me—I did not see where the two or three young men came from—I did not know them—I did not inquire what the prisoner's name was; I left that to the police—his wife came on to the doorstep—she simply told me to go away—I did not say I was not going to be knocked about by a foreigner—I said my coat had been torn, and I did not see why I should be served like that, and I should send for a policeman—she aid not say if I would go away and come back some other time I could have some other coat or waistcoat—she did not say there was a lady in the house dangerously ill, and ask me to go away—she told me to go away, as I should do no good staying there—soon after the police came up the people began to assemble—during the time there were two hundred there—a lady came out on the balcony and implored them to go away, as there was a lady ill in the house—I did not go away because I was told by the first constable to wait there until he came back—the people were standing there round the house, looking on—I wanted to charge the man with an assault—the people continued to remain there—no attempt was made to move them on—there was no one there to move them away, only the two policemen—they did nothing that I could see towards moving the people away from the house—I did not see the police force the door open—I don't know how it came open—almost immediately it opened I heard the report—I did not hear the prisoner's wife beg the policemen to move the crowd away—I did not see her speak to the constable—I did not see her come out at all when the constable was there.
Re-examined. She had both hands to her head as though in pain or fainting when she came up the area steps of No. 23 and went on the step of No. 22—the lady in the balcony said it was her mother who was ill—I saw the door fully open; I stood two doors off against the railing, looking towards the door.
WILLIAM BLACKBURN . I am butler in service at 24, Talbot Square—on 27th May, about nine, I was standing at the corner of Upper Porchester Street, Oxford Terrace, on the same side of the way as No. 23, and about ten yards from it—I saw the prisoner out on the pavement talking to a young man, not the last witness—I could not tell the words, but he was in a very excited sort of state—he then went into No. 23—the young man came and spoke to me, and then went away—I waited on there three or four minutes—I then heard a sort of scream in the street—I ran to the railings opposite No. 23 and saw the prisoner and Bethell up against the railings; the prisoner had one hand holding his tin-nut, and the other hand at the side of his waistcoat—it seemed to me as if he was trying to strangle him and force his head over the railings—another young man came up about the same time, and the prisoner then let go his grip and went in again to No. 23, and the door was shut—in about from five to ten minutes constable Pattison came up—about this time a number of people began to collect in front of the house—that was before the constable came—I saw a hospital nurse on the doorstep going into the house—at that time there were two constables on the doorstep, Maddison and Fraser—after the prisoner had returned to the house I saw him at the dining-room window; he opened and shut it twice—I saw the constables preventing the door being shut—I think that was at the same time the noise was going on, but I could not swear to that; I could not say for certain whether she went in—I saw the constable with his foot on the step, half in and half out—I heard the report of firearms; I did not see who fired it or anything that happened in the passage.
Cross-examined. I did not know the prisoner—when I first saw him speaking to the young man he seemed excited and complaining of something—it was a few minutes after that I saw him having hold of Bethell; I was close by and saw the whole thing—it was about eight minutes after he went in that the constable came up—I did not see the prisoner's wife come out and speak to Bethell before the constable came—the crowd began to assemble in about five minutes; there were then about thirty people outside the house—I saw a lady come on the balcony and ask the people to go away—I did not go; I remained and looked on—I was waiting for my father to come from No. 6, Titchbourn Street, which was just round the corner; I had promised to meet him there—none of the people moved away—the young woman said her mother was ill, and any more disturbance would cause her death—that did not influence anyone—as soon as the constables appeared the crowd rapidly increased to 100 or 150—after the constable put his foot in the door he was pushing two or three minutes before the door gave way—it was dark in the passage—immediately the door gave way I heard the report—the constables were leaning against the door—I could not say that the crowd at the back were pushing—I was on the doorstep of No. 22; that would be three or four yards off.
By the COURT. I saw the prisoner's wife come out of the house—I could not say whether there was any constable there then; there was one constable there then, if not three—it was about five minutes after his wife came out that the constables pushed in the door—I did not hear any disturbance going on inside the house.
duty in uniform at a fixed point in Marylebone Road—about a quarter-past nine, in consequence of information, I went to 23, Oxford Terrace, and saw Mr. Bethell opposite—he was upset, his tie and collar were disarranged; he was crying, and complained of having been assaulted, and pointed to No. 23—whilst I was talking to him I saw a woman, who I afterwards found to be the prisoner's wife, come from the front door—she made a statement to me and went in again, shutting the door—in a short time I saw her again come up the area steps; she seemed greatly upset and in a fainting condition—she went next door to No. 22—there was a very disorderly crowd in front of the house, I should say of about fifty people, shouting and creating a disturbance—at that time I was the only constable there—a lady came on the balcony and said, "Do something, I have got somebody ill up here"—I suppose that was addressed to me—about this time I heard the front parlour window going up, and saw the prisoner standing behind the window with a revolver in his hand, pointed at me—I was standing among the crowd—I at once drew back and sent for police assistance—after a short time I saw constable Conyers at the corner of Marylebone Road—I whistled to him and ran towards him, and we came back to No. 23; we were joined by two other constables—when about fifteen or twenty yards from the house I beard the report of firearms, and saw constable Fraser coming from the house, bleeding from the head—he called out, "I am shot"—Conyers got a cab—I asked the mob to go away quietly; they did not—I and the two other constables went into the house, and into the front parlour, and there saw the prisoner and constable Maddison struggling on the floor—I went to Maddison's assistance, and the prisoner was taken into custody, and taken to the station—he was very violent on the way; he kept muttering something in a foreign language—he was bleeding from the head; I don't know how that had occurred—I asked Maddison—he said he could not account for it unless it was done in the struggle—he was attended to at the station by the police surgeon—the blood was running down his face; it was not much—I was present when he was charged; he made no answer to it.
Cross-examined. When I first came on the scene there were about twenty people there—I thought there was no necessity to send them away—I was going to knock at the door to get the prisoner's name and address—while speaking to Bethell, the prisoner's wife came out of the house and spoke to me—she said, "Don't take any notice of him, he is mad"—she did not ask me to send the people away; I never heard her say so—I did not think there was crowd enough to send away—afterwards there were about fifty there; I could not manage them—a lot of them came up and said they saw Bethell assaulted, and they would like to come as witnesses if I got his name and address—the crowd continued to increase; it never exceeded 150 while I was there—they were not making any extraordinary disturbance; they were standing and shouting—when I saw the revolver I got round a corner; I thought he might pick me off—I walked away about fifteen yards—I did not see the hospital nurse go into the house—when I went into the dining-room I pulled Maddison off the prisoner—the room and the passage were dark—when the prisoner was picked up his head was bleeding; it was a large gash—I did not notice if Maddison had his truncheon out, it was dark—I saw the wound after he came out.
of the house—I did not know who the prisoner was—I have been in the division three years, but not in that neighbourhood.
WILLIAM MADDISON (125 F). On the evening of 27th May, about twenty minutes past nine, I was on duty in the Junction Road—a little boy came to me, and in consequence of what he said I went to Oxford Terrace—I saw Bethell, who made a complaint to me, upon which I went up to the doorstep of No. 23; a hospital nurse was there, and the door was shut—I did not see any other constable at that time—I saw a woman looking out of the third floor window—she said, "It is all right now, nurse; go down in the area, and you can get in"—my attention was then taken to the dining-room window; it was open, and the prisoner was standing at it with a revolver in each hand—he was leaning out of the window, looking over the flower box at the nurse—she left the door and went down the area—I did not speak to the prisoner at that time—the woman at the window came rushing along the passage and rushed out on the doorstep, and called the nurse back, as she. was going down the area steps, and the nurse came back and entered the house with the woman who had rushed out—I then saw the prisoner standing at the end of the passage, by the dining-room door, with a revolver in his hand; he was about four or five yards from me, but it was dark in the passage, and I could not tell exactly—I called to him that I wanted to speak to him—I was terrified at seeing the revolver—I closed the door, but had my foot between the door and the framework—the prisoner came and pushed against the door, and I fell against it—at that time constable Fraser came up—I can't say whether he pushed or not; that was the first I saw of Fraser—the prisoner was pushing at the door from inside—I pushed the door to relieve my foot—I pushed it open, and as I did so the prisoner seemed to stand back, and I and Fraser fell almost head foremost into the passage—the prisoner was then standing a little way in the passage against the wall on the left-hand side—on regaining my feet I saw the prisoner raise the revolver in his right hand between me and Fraser, and he fired—I was but a few inches from him, facing him—I also saw a revolver in his left hand, which was round Fraser's neck, and it was pointed at me, and Fraser fell back and said, "Mate, I am shot"—I had seized the barrel of the revolver before Fraser fell back—I closed with the prisoner and we struggled and fell in the passage twice—he said, "Now I have had my revenge"—I said "Yes, you have shot my mate in the head"—Fraser was not taking any part in the struggle, no one but me and the prisoner—we had a severe struggle, and got into the dining-room, and a lot of furniture was knocked down, flower-pots and so on—I took from him the revolver he had fired, and produce it—he had hold of it until we fell under the table—the other revolver was taken by Fraser—I understood the prisoner to say that his paintings were damaged, and that he had been greatly annoyed—he asked me to let him get up, and promised that he would not hurt me, and he then released his hold of the revolver—at that time some other constables came in and I was taken from the top of him and taken to the station in a cab—I was exhausted with the struggle—I took the revolver with me to the station—it was a five-chambered revolver; it was loaded in four chambers, the fifth contained an empty cartridge-case.
Cross-examined. I went to the door of No. 23 because I wanted the name and address of the person who had committed the assault—the
crowd were shouting and very noisy—I thought it my duty to get the name and address if possible—Bethell seemed to be fainting—I had my truncheon out before the door went open—I can't say whether Fraser had his truncheon out, I did not see it—I can't say when the prisoner got the wound on his head—I lost my truncheon in falling down; I did not use it—I have no idea how he got the wound—I saw him bleeding at the station on the side of the head—I took out my truncheon because I knew the prisoner had revolvers; I thought it might be necessary to use it—this house is in my division—I believe the prisoner complained at Paddington Station about four years and a half since of having paint daubed on his railings—I did not know him.
ALEXANDER FRASER (270 d). About twenty minutes past nine on 27th May a young man came to Molyneux Street Station, and I was sent on to No. 23, Oxford Terrace; I was in uniform—on the step of the house I saw Maddison with his foot between the door and the door ledge, to keep it from shutting—he told me something, and the two of us pushed against the door—some persons in the crowd were behind pushing against. me—the door came open, and in the passage I saw the prisoner standing about two or three feet from the door, with a very bright revolver in his left hand—he was pointing it towards me—I then heard a report, and I felt blood running down my neck—his left hand was pointed at me at the time I heard the report—I stepped forward, took hold of his left hand, and wrenched the revolver away from him; the report did not come from that revolver—it was dark in the passage—I called out to my mate—the prisoner put his right arm round my neck and struck me with something hard on the bridge of the nose; it hurt me—I became unconscious, and was taken to the hospital, and I remember nothing more—I took the revolver with me to the hospital and gave it up—this is it—it is a five-chambered revolver, with five full cartridges in it—I remained an in-patient at the hospital for some time—I am going on well—I have not been on duty since, and shall not for some time—I was wearing this helmet on this night—there are two marks on it; it entered here and came out here—I had my hand on the prisoner up to the time the shot was fired.
Cross-examined. When I came up there was a crowd of about two hundred persons pushing about, there were only about six or seven on the step pushing—when the door gave way we stumbled into the passage, and the prisoner stepped back—the revolver went off directly the door was opened—one revolver was pointed at me; that was not the one that went off—the whole thing only took a few seconds—it was rather dark in the passage.
JOHN AITCHESON . I am a conductor—I live at 7, Elson Street, Stepney—I went to 23, Oxford Terrace—I followed the constables in, and on the talkie in the dining-room I found this box of cartridges, which I took to the station, and gave to the police.
was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought there—I took the charge for feloniously shooting Alexander Fraser, police constable, with intent to murder—he made no reply—I said, "Do you realise the gravity of the charge against you?"—he said, "Yes, thoroughly"—he had some injury to his head—there was some blood on the right side of the head—I at once called the police doctor to see him—there were forty-three cartridges in the box.
JOHN SMITH (Inspector F). On the evening of the 27th I went to this house after the prisoner had been taken to the station, and examined the place—the dining-room was in great disorder—several flower-pots were broken, and there was evidence of a severe struggle having taken place there—I looked for a bullet, but did not find one; but on the right-hand side of the doorpost I saw a mark such as might be occasioned by a bullet, about 5ft. 6 in. from the ground.
Cross-examined. I have made inquiries about the prisoner—he had occupied the house with his wife eight or nine years—at times he travels as a courier—he has complained of having been subjected to annoyance—he attends to his own house, and does a little painting—hitherto he has borne a good character.
ARTHUR PRINCE , L. R. C. P. On the evening of the 27th May I saw the prisoner at the station—there was a superficial injury to his head; it had ceased bleeding—there was nothing requiring particular attention.
Cross-examined. It had been bleeding freely.
ACKWOOD THORPE . I am house surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—on the night of 27th May, about ten, Fraser was brought there—he had two wounds on the right side of the head, communicating with each other, such as might have been caused by a bullet going in at one point and out at the other—the superficial tissues were bruised, and the bone was exposed, but not fractured—of itself it was not a dangerous wound; it has gone on well—he is making a fair way to recovery.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy, the JURY believing him to be very excited and not in a perfectly sane state of mind; adding that they considered the conduct of the constables Maddison and Fraser to have been highly praiseworthy.— Discharged on recognizances.
Upon the evidence of Mr. Philip Francis Gilbert, surgeon of H. M. 's Prison, Holloway, the JURY found the prisoner to be insane and unfit to plead.— Ordered to be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
The prisoner stating in the hearing of the JURY that site desired to
PLEAD GUILTY to unlawfully wounding, the JURY found that verdict. — Discharged on recognizances.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. GUY STEPHENSON and BANCROFT Prosecuted, and MR. WARBUBTON Defended.
After Counsel had opened the case for the prosecution, Mr. Warburton stated that the prisoner was prepared to
PLEAD GUILTY to unlawfully wounding, and he having so pleaded in the hearing of the JURY, they found him
GUILTY of that offence. He received an excellent character.— Six Months Hard Labour.
For oilier cases tried in the Old Court this day, see Essex, Kent and Surrey Cases.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 29th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HARDY Prosecuted.
ALBERT HUMPHREY . I live at St. Dunstan's Buildings, St. Dunstan's Hill—on June 13th I was going upstairs about 8. 45, and met the prisoner coming down—he asked me what time it was—Mr. Hussey came and said about 9. 15—I went upstairs and missed my silver watch and chain, which I had seen safe that morning—I called my sister—she went into her bedroom, and missed her watch—I communicated with the police, and on the 16th I went to Seething Lane Station and picked the prisoner out at once—he was searched in my presence, and my watch and chain found on him—this is it; he had no other watch—some keys and money were found on him.
EDWARD MARRIOTT (City Policeman). On June 16th I was with Detective Miller, and saw the prisoner, who I knew by sight, in Thanet Street, Commercial Road—I told him we were going to take him in custody on suspicion of stealing a watch from a building on St. Dunstan's Hill—he said "I know nothing about it"—we put him with other men, and he was identified.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was on duty for three weeks, trying to find you; a telegram was sent to a woman who knew where you lived, and we followed her.
WILLIAM LEAR (City Detective). I was with Marriott, and went to the station with the prisoner, and saw Mr. Humphrey pick him out—I searched him; he was wearing this watch and chain—I found 10s.5d. on him.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to having been convicted of felony at this Court on February 9th, 1891.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted and MR. GILL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
LOUISE CROSSLEY . I am the wife of Albert Crossley, of 9, Silver Crescent, Gunnersbury—on the 23rd June, about 10. 45 p. m., I was in my kitchen and heard a noise—my servant spoke to me, and I went to the corner of the street and called a policeman—a young man came along—my front door was open, and I saw the prisoner come out with my jewel box on his arm, which I had left in the top bedroom; it contained a diamond pendant and other articles value £300—he walked very fast—I said, "That is my jewel-case, give it to me"—he threw it on the ground and said, "Take it"—my husband came and held him, and I went to my bedroom and missed a variety of articles, and the window was open—the next house was empty, and the balconies are so close that I can step from one to the other—I saw footprints on the white cloth.
ETHEL BEST . I am in Mrs. Crossley's service—on June 3rd, at 8. 45, I was in the bedroom, and the windows were closed—about 10. 40 I heard a noise upstairs, went up with a candle, and saw the window open, and the mirror of the dressing-glass laid on its face—I missed a jewel-case and a watch—I noticed black finger-marks next morning—I had fastened the catch—a little before this my mistress had been digging up a fern in the front garden, and any person going in would have to pass her—these sixteen handkerchiefs are mine, and this is my mistress's watch.
ARTHUR THOMPSON . I am an engineer, of 4, Barton Road, Gunnersbury—I was in the High Road, Chiswick, and saw Mrs. Crossley standing at the top of the road—I slopped the prisoner, and Mrs. Crossley came up and said, "Give me my jewel-box"—the prisoner threw it down—he was quiet for some distance and then he became violent, and said he would blow my brains out—a constable took him—he said he thought there was only about 41/2d. worth of stuff in the box.
DAVID RAWLINGS (Police Inspector T.) I was at the Police-court when this case was gone into—the prisoner said he was coming up Silver Crescent and saw the door of No. 9 open, and the lady and servant in the next garden; that he went in at the open door and took the property and shoved up the window, and then left the house by the front door.
Prisoner's Defence. I deliberately went in and picked up the jewel case. I suffer a good deal mentally, of course I thought there were
diamonds there. I have been a good deal under the influence of large doses of quinine, which has affected my head.
GUILTY**— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BYRON Prosecuted and MR. GILL Defended.
JOHN LEVENDEN . I am assistant to Charles Beaumont Vaughan, a pawnbroker, of 39, Strand—I live in the house—on May 3rd, about 6.30, I locked up the house and shop—early next morning I was called, and heard someone on the stairs—I went down, got a revolver and a poker, and burst the door open, and found the prisoner under a table in the top warehouse—I secured him—nothing had been touched, but the windows were broken—there is a temperance hotel next door, and access to the house can be obtained from there—a ladder was moved against the place where we keep the pledges.
Cross-examined. The broken window was sixty or seventy feet from the ground—access could be obtained from the hotel by going along a narrow window-ledge which I would not go along for all the contents of the shop.
HENRY GALE (286 E). Levenden called me, and I saw the prisoner under the table—I asked him what he was doing there.—he said, "I came in through the window"—I said I should take him in custody—he said, "All right, I will have a go for it"—he struggled; Levenden came to my assistance, and I secured him—I found on him £7 in gold, three keys, a knife, and other articles.
Cross-examined. This is the knife—he had his bank-book and cheque book.
WILLIAM MAIL (Police Inspector E). I went to the Temperance Hotel, Strand—room No. 7 was pointed out to me; the door was locked inside—somebody had got in at the window—there were marks fifteen inches wide on the parapet—I could not get in, and went down to the shop, and went up and found a pane of glass broken.
CHARLES STEPHENSON . I live at 46, Gillingham Street, Pimlico—I was manager of this Temperance Hotel—the prisoner engaged a room there on May 3rd—I saw him—I noticed nothing in his manner to make me think he was insane—I had seen him before in March and April, and noticed nothing unusual in his manner.
Witness for the Defence.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT , M. D. I saw the prisoner in Holloway Prison on May 4th, and since from time to time—I believe he is of unsound mind—he speaks of being followed by people—he says that the Salvation Army have founded their books on things which he has written, he has also delusions about his bodily functions.
Cross-examined. He is subject to delusions—he is not a maniac—he was brought to me after getting up in the chapel—he was always under the impression that the warders were running round, going to the prisoners in their cells—that is a common delusion in insanity.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH SOUTHGATE . I am the wife of William Southgate, a general dealer, of 3, Belchoir Street, Homerton—the prisoners lived opposite me for about six months—they came there soon after last Christmas twelve months—the man is a bricklayer—the deceased child, John Samuel Lock, was not with them when I first knew them; he was there three weeks or a month after—they had two children of their own, a girl about nine or ten, and a boy between six and seven—when I first saw the deceased he came and sat with my children; he was about five years old—I saw that his head was very dirty and covered with vermin—he had on a little frock and a pair of boots without socks, no other clothes—this was in the winter—I saw the child about a dozen times during that six months, and it was always the same—I have given him a slice of bread and butter when sitting with my children, and he eat it ravenously—I never said anything to Mrs. Haynes about it, I thought it was not my business—her own children were very shabby, but they had better clothing and were more cleanly—I hardly ever saw the male prisoner; he was at work all day long—I do not know the mother of the child—I have seen the father, his name is Lock. (He was called in)—that is the man,
LOUISA PLATT . I am the wife of William Platt, a labourer, of 17, The Grove, Homerton—I did live at 2, Belchoir Street—the prisoners came to live there in the middle of last year, and lived there ten months—they then left and took a house in Cross Street, and we joined them there in about three days, and were there six months—I noticed the little boy Lock when they first came to Belchoir Street—he was a pretty fat boy then—he did not appear to be suffering from any disease—he had on a frock, a petticoat, a pair of boots, and a pair of socks—about three weeks after I noticed that he had only a frock on and a pair of boots—I never noticed any shirt on him—he was dressed like that up to the time they left Belchoir Street, and in Cross Street the same—he was never clean; he was dirty, and his head was full of vermin—he did not go to school—he was mostly out in the back-yard all day, wet or fine, sometimes till late at night—he wanted to come in, but they would not let him—that happened very often—he was always treated very badly—he used to mumble and make a funny row—he was too weak to cry—he had his meals in the yard, outside the back door; pieces of bread, that was all—I never saw anything given him but bread, sometimes half a slice, or what the other children gave him—he used to eat it very ravishing—I used to speak to Mrs. Haynes about it—I said, "How thin the child looks!"—she said he was consumptive—the child fell away—some weeks he used to look pretty fair, and then he would fall away again—I did not notice a difference in him during the nine months—he was fat up to three weeks before they left Belchoir Street, and then he went quite off, he was thinner—I said to Mrs. Haynes, "The child must be cold out in the yard"—she said he was not cold—I never washed his
head, I washed his face—I told her so—she said, "He is always getting dirty, it's no use washing him"—I never saw him washed—the other children were kept a little bit cleaner—they were washed when he was not—they were washed every morning, and were always clean—they did not go in the yard, they went out in the front, and had their meals with their mother; the little boy did not—they had a frock, petticoat, and chemise—at Cross Street the little boy was dressed in the same way as at Belchoir Street—he was in the yard there, and in the same dirty state—I have said to the prisoner, "The boy looks hungry"—she said, "He is not, he would always be eating as long as I liked to be cutting for him"—I said nothing else—I never interfered with her, because she told me to mind my own business—the male prisoner is a bricklayer's labourer, at work on and off—he would go out at six or seven in the morning, and return about twelve or one at dinner-time, and then go out again, and come in again—they had sometimes fish for dinner, and sometimes stew—their children had dinner with them; not the little boy—the man was occasionally at home on Sundays, after the public-houses were shut up—he was occasionally about on week-days—they never told me whose child this was—Mrs. Haynes said he was six years old.
Cross-examined by Joseph Haynes. I knew what you had for dinner by passing your door—I always found you at home at the dinner hour—I did not mention about this boy's usage, I waited till somebody took it up, then it was my place to come and speak.
Cross-examined by Elizabeth Haynes. You gave the child food in the yard every day—the poor little fellow was badly treated; your children pulled him about and pulled his hair—he was starved to death—he used to come and ask me for bread, and I used to give him bread and butter—I have never said that I would make it as warm for you as I could.
ELIZABETH STARTIN . I am the wife of Charles Startin, a sweep, of 15, Belchoir Street—I have known the prisoners about eighteen years—I was living with my mother when they moved next door to me—the first time I saw this child was in the beginning of April this year—he was sitting on a chair alone in the yard—he looked very thin and bad, and very dirty—his head was in a very dirty condition, and vermin were crawling about it—he always appeared to be crying and pining—I saw him every day, sitting in the same place in the garden, from ten in the morning till six or seven in the evening—it was always very fine weather—I don't know whether he had any meals, I was not always in the yard—I have asked Mrs. Haynes what was the matter with him, and she said he wanted to go to bed, and if he did Mr. Haynes could not get any rest—t said he looked very thin and bad—she said he was in a decline—I said, "Poor little fellow, it would be a happy release if the Almighty was to call him!" and she said, "I pray for it hourly and daily"—he was dressed in a little Fair of knickerbockers, a jacket, and a pair of boots—I never saw him in a frock.
TURNER JOHNSON FISHER . I am Medical Officer of the Hackney Union, district No. 5—on 10th April the child, John Samuel Lock, was brought to me by the female prisoner—she said it had been ill for some time—I examined its chest and prescribed for it; its face was fairly clean—I did not examine the head or body; I thought it was fairly clean, but very thin
and delicate—on 14th April I saw it again; it was much about the same—on the 16th I saw it again; there was not much alteration, it was much about the same—I next saw it on 5th May at the Out-relief Office; I am not quite sure who was with it—I thought it was the mother or sister—I think I saw them both, but I can't say exactly—the child was then very ill, so ill that I detained it there, and sent it into the infirmary, and Dr. Gordon attended to it—I saw it again once at the Police-court—I was not present at the post-mortem—when I first saw it it was suffering from whooping cough, and I suspected tubercular disease of the bowel, consumption of the bowel—on 5th May it seemed almost in a dying state; it was in such an exhausted state I did not care to examine it, it was so low and weak.
ELIZABETH OSBORN . I am assistant-nurse at Hackney Union Infirmary—this child came there on 5th May; it was attended to by Dr. Gordon; it was in a very dirty state—it had on a knickerbocker suit, a little shirt, no boots; a little piece of material was sewn on its feet and legs in the form of socks—I should say from its appearance that the shirt had been worn five or six weeks, if not longer; it was very dirty—its head was filthily dirty, the hair very long, and covered with vermin—the eyes were closed; I had to bathe them before he could open them, on account of the dirt—it was covered with vermin, also with vermin bites, all over the body; the toes were very emaciated, and there was so much dirt on them I thought they were all joined together; when I washed them they separated; there was dirt and vermin in between the toes and in the toe-nails; they had not been cut—the child was washed during the next two or three days, and in about three days it had no vermin about it—ordinary soap and water would have prevented it from being in such a dirty state—it died on the 17th June.
JOHN JOSEPH GORDON . I am medical superintendent of Hackney Infirmary—this child entered the infirmary on the 5th May, and was under my care until 17th June, when it died—when I first saw it the body and limbs were in an extremely emaciated condition, I never saw such a specimen of humanity—it had been washed slightly, but the body was still in a very dirty condition—I did not notice the toes—the nurse had washed it before I saw it—the hair was full of vermin, and the body was covered from head to foot with vermin bites—when it first came in I did not think it would live twenty-four hours, and I was not able to make a minute examination, it was in such a weak condition—after the first few hours it took its food ravenously, and would cry for more—on the 7th of May it weighed seven pounds seven ounces, about the weight of a newborn child—the average weight of a child of that age is about thirty-nine pounds—on 22nd May it weighed eighteen pounds four ounces—it seemed to get a fresh cold, and it died in the early morning of 17th June—on the following day Dr. Aveling and myself made a post-mortem examination—I found tubercular deposits in the abdominal glands, and commencing tubercular deposits in the liver, spleen, and lungs—there was not a particle of fat about the body—if it was disposed at all to consumption, sitting out in the backyard as described would be quite enough to strengthen the disease—from the post-mortem appearances, the disease could not have been in progress more than three months—being kept in the dirt it was would undoubtedly cause suffering and injury to its health
—a small frock and a pair of boots would not be sufficient clothing for it in any weather—bread was not sufficient food for it—it had a cough, I could not say for how long, it might have been a good while; that would cause it to get thin, but not to that extent—the tubercular deposit showed that it must die—it was the most puny thing I ever saw, but the disease had not progressed enough to account for its condition.
Evidence for the Defence.
JOSEPH HAYNES (the prisoner). I wish to say I have a good character as a hard working-man, up at five in the morning and returning at seven at night—I was always satisfied that the child had its fair share of food, the same as the other children; it was bathed every Saturday night in the tub—I have witnesses here.
Cross-examined. I am not always at work—I have been very lucky for work for the last eighteen months—when at home I have seen the child playing about with the others in the yard—my wife tried to enter it at the school, but they would not have it, it was so weak—I have never seen it shut out in the yard during the whole day—I could not say it always had its meals with the others when I was not at home—when I was at home sometimes it had meals with the other children, sometimes it would be in bed—when I was not at work sometimes I had no dinner, when I did I had it in the middle of the day—I have seen it in knickerbockers and a shirt and petticoat—I saw it in bed on the morning of 5th May, the day it went to the Infirmary—it was asleep—I never noticed vermin on its head that morning; I looked for it though—I have heard Miss Osborn's evidence, it is untrue, and all the evidence of the other witnesses with regard to its dirt is untrue.
ELIZABETH HAYNES (the prisoner). I always kept the child the same as my own, and fed it in the same way—I was at work from eight in the morning till ten at night—I take in washing and mangling—the child used to run about with me and my little girl, to fetch me things—I had a board that the father brought me, and the three children used to sit on that, and the child used to sit in the middle when they had their meals—I could not let him out in the yard in the cold or wet weather and easterly winds, because he was laid up with bronchitis; he had bronchitis from his birth; his mother died of consumption—I used to have such trouble with him of a night, with his cold—I used to wash him the first thing in the morning, before I commenced my daily work—he used to breed vermin—if the nurse said he had vermin all over him on May 5th it is no such thing; he had a few flea-bites, I admit, but nothing else—what she says is perfectly false—I gave him a clean shirt when he went to the doctor.
Cross-examined. One little boy of mine went to school; they would not take this child, it was so delicate—he was never in the yard dressed only in a frock and boots—he had a flannel petticoat and a new top petticoat which his father brought me, and a shirt, and he has bought aim plenty of clothes—he was kept perfectly clean—sometimes he was cleaned twice a day—my married daughter would come in and give him a good washing all over, head and all—on May 5th I bathed him myself—his eyes were not closed from dirt, and there was no vermin in his head that I know of; he had one or two small ones in his hair—I washed him with carbolic soap—I always washed his head every day as well as his body—it is not true that his feet were so dirty—I washed them
myself that morning—my own children never had any vermin—they were perfectly clean and comfortably clad, and I did the same with this child—what Miss Osborn has said is untrue, and also what the doctor has said, and all of them.
JOHN LOCK . I am the father of this child—the mother died six years ago—I gave him in the prisoner's charge three years ago—the female prisoner is my sister—whatever he asked for she used to give him—he ran about with the other children—she never used any cruelty towards him while I was there—I never saw any of it—she was always fond of him—I used to see him once a week when I was in work, and sometimes twice a week when I was out of work—I saw him on the Friday before he was in the infirmary—I noticed that he was very bad—his head was rather dirty—I saw no vermin—his head wanted washing—his body was not dirty.
Cross-examined. He was very delicate—he was under the doctor about six months before he went into the infirmary—my sister was very fond of him, and of her own children—when I went to see him I might stop two hours, perhaps three, in the daytime when I was not at work—he had been delicate ever since his mother's death—he fell away the last three months—I told the prisoner he was wasting away, and asked her what was the matter with it, and she said it was only the whooping cough—I said it must be something more, or it would not be wasting away like that—I noticed that it was rather dirty several times, not always—I never noticed vermin in its head—I never looked.
By the COURT. I did not think it was going to live—I had it insured, and paid a penny a week, but I was about two months behind—it was insured for £5—I have not got it—I made application for it last Monday week—it was born on 26th July, 1887—this is the certificate.
MATILDA BUCKMASTER . I live at 38, Homerton Road—I have teen the child in the yard playing along with other children—I have never seen the prisoner slap it or shut it out—it is hard for me to say if it was kept short of food or starving; I was only a next-door neighbour—I have seen it in the yard with a frock and chemise on—the prisoner was at work all day; she did not keep the child clean, as she ought to have done—I asked her what made it look so thin, and she said the mother bad died in a rapid consumption, and she thought the child had the same—I asked her if she would be offended if I gave the child a basin of broth, and she took it indoors, and another time I gave her daughter one; I did not see it given.
By the COURT. Her own children were kept a bit cleaner than this one—I gave the broth because the child looked so thin; that was after Christmas; I never saw it after that—I am the mother of eight children.
Cross-examined. I never saw the child running about in front of the house, always in the garden; I have seen the other children in front, only when going to school, two of them, a boy and girl—I never gave any food to her children.
JANE LOCK . The child was always thin and delicate; he ate a great deal, and never seemed satisfied—he was a great deal of trouble while I had him, which was three years and three months; I believe Mrs. Haynes had him then.
for the child; I paid that while I was in employment—I owe her a lot; the last I paid her was 1s.6d. about a fortnight before Whitsuntide.
HENRIETTA COCHRANE . I have not seen the prisoner shut the child out in the yard or take its food away—he has been in the yard playing with her children and mine—I have heard him halloa out for a slice more bread and butter; she would give it to her own children but not to him—they always called him "Little Spotty"—I did not see any spots on him—that was a nickname; I never knew him by any other—he would be out in the yard sometimes in cold weather; that was generally his place till he went to bed.
JOSEPH HAYNES— NOT GUILTY .
ELIZABETH HAYNES— GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
There was another indictment for the Manslaughter of the mid child, upon which no evidence was offered, and a verdict of
NOT GUILTY was
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, June 28th,
29th, and 30th, 1893.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted.
HENRY ELI WICKENS . I am a medical herbalist, of 30, High Street, Hoxton—I am executor to the deceased owner of 266, Hoxton Street—in March, 1891, Wilson took the house in the name of Lewis, at 12s. a week—his wife still holds it—the rent was paid irregularly—I gave three or four notices to leave at different times with the idea of getting arrears of rent, and after a notice he used to pay.
Cross-examined by Wilson. It has been a bedding and furniture shop for eleven or twelve years—I never knew you as Wilson; I should not have accepted you as tenant if you had told me you were—your wife has the shop now; she has paid me—I always knew you to be a hard-working man—the place was only used for a bedding manufactory, I believe; you made a spring mattress for me.
WILLIAM PEARCE . I live at 9, Henry Road, Finsbury Park—I had the letting of No. 1, Rockliffe Street, Islington, and I let it to Aston, who said he was an upholsterer, at 32, De Beauvoir Road—he gave as references T. Smith, 69, St. Paul's Road, and W. Hedges, 49, White Lion Street—I wrote to those persons and got these answers—Aston took the house on this agreement; I saw him sign it—I applied for rent on 25th December, when it became due—he never paid a farthing—I went to the premises the Friday after 25th December—I saw no one then; the door was locked and I could not get in—I went to the addresses of the two references, but could not find either of them—some time after I got possession of the house; we had great difficulty in getting the keys or possession—when I went to demand my rent and when I found the place shut up, I saw no appearance of any trade.
Cross-examined by Aston. About the January you came to my office—£5 rent was due—you asked me to wait for the rent as you were about to take a partner, and I declined to wait; I wanted the keys by next morning—I called several times but did not see you—very likely I had the keys back in January—the house had been done up thoroughly before you went into it.
JAMES BALDWIN . I live at 18, Glengall Road, and am foreman to the Abbey Wood Wool Packing Company, of Wharf Road, Cubitt Town—I received this letter of 17th November, 1891, through our traveller. (This letter teas from M. A. Lewis, late of 187, Old Street, E. C., wholesale and retail bedding manufacturer, 266, Hoxton Street, established 1847, and asked for the ton of wood wool at£5 per ton to be forwarded)—a ton of wood wool value £5 was sent to 266, Hoxton Street—on 23rd November I got this further order with the same heading. (Asking for two tons at £4 15s. per ton, to be delivered per week until 31st December, when the order would be repeated if satisfactory; and that he would draw it himself, as he had a horse and van)—under that order I delivered two tons weekly at that address for ten weeks, twenty-one tons altogether, with the first lot Value £52 10s.—we sent several statements of account to M. A. Lewis, 266, Hoxton Street—the last consignment was on January 1st, and the total account would be after that—we received this order from Newman and Aston, of I, Rockliffe Street, Islington, dated 5th December, 1892. (Requesting the delivery of twenty bales of wood wool, the same as sample left by representative, at£4 per ton)—I executed that order and supplied the goods to that address—about 13th January, 1893, I was at work, and saw a man come with a horse and van—I refused to allow any further goods to go—we have never been paid the £5, or the £52 10s., or the £4—I believed when I parted with the goods that a genuine business was being carried on at 266, Hoxton Street, by M. A. Lewis, and a similar business at 1, Rockliffe Street, in the name of Newman and Aston—I have never seen any of my goods since.
Cross-examined by Aston. The last delivery at Hoxton Street was on January 1st, 1892, and the first delivery at 1, Rockliffe Street, was 7th December, 1892, so that there was nearly twelve months (between—two tons were delivered at 1, Rockliffe Street.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I have been close on four years in the Abbey Wood Wool Company—I am in the office—"Ms. Miller was manager and secretary—Hodges was a traveller; he had a shop in Church Street, Shoreditch—he was capable of taking orders and so forth for cash transactions—I knew Croxton—I could not swear to Croxton's or Hodges' writing—I have had orders come through them long ago—our company has been reconstructed.
WILLIAM HARVEY . I am carman to Mr. James Askew, of 67, Stebendale Street, Cubitt Town—on 7th December, 1892, I delivered twenty bales of wood wool from the Wood Wool Company at No. 1, Rockliffe Street, Islington—I got this receipt, signed "Newman and Aston, A. J."
Cross-examined by Aston. I do not identify either of you.
WILLIAM EDWARD BICKLEY . I live at 24, Ordhall Street, Great Ormond Street, and am clerk to Messrs. C. and R. Light, Limited, of Curtain Road, cabinet makers—I keep their "bought ledger"—in April, 1892, our firm owed no money to M. A. Lewis, of 266, Hoxton Street—
no such name was on our books—I do not know either of the prisoners—there is no foundation for saying that Light and Co. owed M. A. Lewis £60.
SIDNEY ROWE . I live at 74, Benthall Road, Stoke Newington—in August, 1892, I was a clerk to the Wood Converting Company, of 6, Drummond Road, Bermondsey—in August, 1892, Aston called and gave the name of Charles Lewis—he handed in this card: "M. A. Lewis, late of 187, Old Street, E. C., Wholesale and Retail Bedding Manufacturer, 266, Hoxton Street, etc. Shippers and country dealers supplied on liberal terms. Established 1847"—he said he came from Old Street—I said I had called on him a day or two previously, and he said, "Yes, I was not in at the time, but my boy gave me the card when I came in"—I had called at 187, Old Street, not at 266, Hoxton Street—there is a firm of M. A Lewis at 187, Old Street—Aston wanted a ton of wood wool—we delivered some that afternoon, and the rest a day or two after, at 266, Hoxton Street—we had not been paid the £4 14s.8d. due for that when I left the firm at the end of last February—when I parted with the goods I believed there was a genuine business at 266, Hoxton Street, and I believed the Lewis who called on me was the Lewis of 187, Old Street.
Cross-examined by Aston. I was down the yard, and the proprietor handed me the card when you came, and I glanced at it; the order was on the back—I said, "Mr. Lewis, of Old Street?"—and you said, "Yes"—I did not hear you say it was an order from or for Mr. Lewis, of Hoxton—I understood you to be Lewis, of Old Street—this card was received as an order—I asked for no cash or reference.
Cross-examined by Wilson, The stuff was sent to Hoxton Street—I did not read the card at the time, because I understood Lewis came from Old Street.
CHARLES SUTTON . I am manager to the Wood Converting Company—Rowe showed me this card at the office—on 12th August Aston called and gave me this order. (This had the same heading, and requested sight or nine bundles of No. 1 wood wool, and enough to make up a ton of No. 2, by bearer)—I suppose he took away those thirteen bales of one quality and three of the other—the value is £2 13s.6d.—on 16th August he called again, and we supplied him with thirty-three bales of wool, and he gave me this receipt—I afterwards wrote two or three times for payment, and then I went—I never got paid—no other order was sent after we found we could not get the money—we were never paid—Aston came, and promised to pay; he said he would send us on a cheque—when I went to 266, Hoxton Street, I saw no signs of a big business there—it was the bad appearance of the place that led me to close the account.
Cross-examined by Aston. You did not tender this card to me.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I sent in my statement to Lewis, of Hoxton—I applied for money; I saw a woman, not you—that was before the month was up—I went to see whether we should send you more goods—I agreed to give a month's credit, and applied for the money before the account was due—we put the matter into the hands of Perry, and you were sued.
Re-examined. I never got any money—Aston was the only person I saw as to 266, Hoxton Street, except the woman—I only saw Aston when I brought the order.
FREDERICK BROWN . I am a carman to the Wood Converting Company—in August, 1892, I delivered twelve bales of wood wool at 266, Hoxton Street—this delivery note was then and there signed—a woman handed it back to me signed M. A. Lewis.
CATHERINE BETTS . I am the wife of William David Betts, of 60, Hillside Road, Stamford Hill—my first husband's name was Charles Lewis—I now carry on business at 187, Old Street, in the name of Catherine Lewis—my father established an upholstering and bedding business at Curtain Road, about fifty years ago, and then it was moved to Old Street, about thirty years ago—Wilson is my sister's husband—when I first knew him I believe he was in an oil and colour shop—he was out of employment for some time, and my father took him into his employment, and learnt him the trade about twelve years ago—he was with my father for about two years, and then left—he has had no connection whatever with my business at 187, Old Street, for two years past—this is not my card—it is not true to say that he is late of 187, Old Street; he was only there for two years when he learnt the trade—I only know Aston by coming in the shop—on 24th December, 1892, Aston came and asked me if I was open to buy any flock, and I said I was not in want of any—he came previous to that and asked me if I was in want of any wood wool—I said no—I declined to have anything to do with him.
Cross-examined by Aston. I did not ass the price of the flock—I should say it was about twelve months ago you called about the wood wool; it might be about eighteen months.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I was married to Mr. Lewis ten years ago—he died eighteen months afterwards—he was a traveller—my name was Lewis—your wife was at my shop four and a half years ago—she did not six years ago sell pillows in my shop made of stuff which was proved to be stolen—she was at work at my shop—her name was over the door for years, Mary Ann Quilter—it would be right for your wife to trade as Mary Ann Lewis, of Hoxton, late of Old Street, if she trades in a proper manner, and without swindling—she and I were both hard-working girls in Old Street.
SARAH WASTALL . I am wife of Thomas Wastall, of 426, Kingsland Road—I deal in pianos—in April last year a man giving the name of Jack Hedges came to my shop with Wilson, who went in the name of Lewis—Hedges said in Wilson's presence that Wilson was an upholsterer at Hoxton Street—Wilson said he wanted a piano for his little girl Mabel, and he chose one at £22 10s., by Taylor and Co., of Holloway—he gave me a bill at a month for £22 10s., as he said Mr. Light, whom we served, owed him £50, that he worked for Mr. Light—I believed that Mr. Light owed him £50, and that influenced me in parting with the piano—he took the piano away—at the end of the month the bill was not met—I went and saw Wilson—he said he had had very bad losses, would I give him another month t—I agreed to do so, and he gave me another bill—it was not paid at the end of the month—I got nothing in respect of the piano; he said he still had bad losses, and wrote this paper promising to pay £11 5s. in a week—I did not get it—I went to his place at Hoxton and had a conversation with him—he would not tell me where the piano was, and said he would not pay—I said I would put him in Holloway—he said, "You cannot do anything with me"—I was angry—I said I would
take the piano back—he said he would not part with it—I never found out where it was, and have not seen it since—all I had for the piano was a 48. 6d. mattress, but it is no use.
Cross-examined by Wilson. When you bought the piano I said I could do you good, and that you could supply me with goods which would make the bill come less—Hedges sold another piano for me previously—Hedges said Light owed you money, and you said so too—I did not go in the corner, and talk quietly to Hedges while you looked at the instrument—I paid away the second bill you gave me to Taylor, the pianoforte people, and for it and some money they sent me two more pianos—I said if anything was wrong with the bill there was the money, and I paid it directly—I gave Hedges 30s. for the introduction, as I did in the previous case, which turned out all right.
CHARLES RICHARDS . I trade as Charles Richards and Co., cycle manufacturers, at Heath Town, Wolverhampton—in December, 1892, I got this letter from Newman and Aston. (This had a printed heading "Newman and Aston, from Lisson Grove, Tailors, linen and Woollen Drapers, Rockliffe Street, Islington; Boots, Hats, Wringing Machines, Bicycles, Pianofortes," and asked for terms upon which bicycles could be supplied)—I wrote stating my terms, and then I got this letter asking for a bicycle to be sent, as a customer wanted it for the holidays—after a further communication about the size, I forwarded a bicycle to that address, value £7 3s. net—that was not paid for—on January 3rd I got another letter from the same firm, and after correspondence, on February 10th we sent the machine, value £7 15s., to the same address—that hat never been paid for—I have never seen the bicycles since—when I parted with them I believed that Newman and Aston were carrying on a genuine business as stated in the billheads, and that there were customers who wanted the bicycles—on 7th February I got this order for bicycles with the heading: "M. A. Lewis, wholesale and retail manufacturer"—I wrote and had this reply. (This requested a sample machine, and stated that last year they had told a great quantity of machines of various makers, and that should his machines suit their customers they would be able to do considerable trade)—I looked at Newman and Aston's order and noticed the resemblance in the writing, and in consequence I declined to supply Lewis with any goods—we wrote to Lewis for references, and did not think they were satisfactory; and independently I made inquiry through a confidential agent, and the answers were not satisfactory and I declined to send.
Cross-examined by Aston. The order for the first machine was on a printed memorandum form, I believe, received on 20th December—I asked for a reference, and for cash for the first order—I got no reference in the first, instance, as you had called at my stand at the Stanley Show, and my foreman saw you and considered from what you said to him that you were bond-fide traders.
Crocs-examined by Wilson. I did not know Mr. Hedges, a traveller, personally—he has no authority from me to go about saying he is getting orders for me—I do not produce the references I got from Lewis—I sent invoices for cash; there was no reply—I had no further correspondence with you.
Mill, Oldham—in December last I got an order through my traveller for a ton of flock for Newman and Aston, of 1, Rockliffe Street, Islington, and I sent flock to the value of about £4 19s.9d.—in the beginning of January I received another order direct from Newman and Aston for a ton of flock—I executed it; its value was £5 0s.5d.—I sent in an account in the ordinary way—I have not been paid any part of that account—when I parted with my goods I believed there was a genuine business being carried on at 1, Rockliffe Street—on 2nd January I received an order for a sample ton, purporting to come from M. A. Lewis, of Hoxton Street—I wrote saying that as it was a first transaction we should want cash and references—I had this answer. (Giving as references Aston, of De Beauvoir Street, and Seymour, of 12, Boundary Street)—I wrote to the references—I don't think I got any reply from Aston—I had this letter from Seymour—I did not execute the orders from Lewis—I subsequently got these orders from Williams, Stamford Hill, and White, of 29, De Beauvoir Street—I did not execute them—I thought there was a similarity about the writing of the letters signed Seymour, White, Williams, and Lewis, and in consequence declined to execute the orders—no part of my account has been paid.
Cross-examined by Aston. I have not compared the order from our traveller with these letters, which, I say, are in similar writing—I cannot swear the account was not paid to my agent; I have never received it—my traveller, Champion, could collect accounts: he had no authority from me to employ an agent—my agent has absconded—I have found a good many accounts that have been taken, and that I know nothing about—you could not have paid the second account legally, because I sent you instructions on 14th December not to pay accounts to Champion, and you had the second lot of goods after that—I have not said anything to Beech as to the account—I did not ask Newman and Aston for references, as I knew my agent had made inquiries—I cannot say if Champion received cash for the first lot.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I have not seen Hedges, and do not know his writing—I have not compared it with these letters—I only know of Hedges by report.
Re-examined. The first lot of goods were sent on December 8th, and on the 14th I gave this notice that no money was to be paid to Champion; and the second lot of goods were sent in January—I think I have sent in an account, including both lots of goods, more than once to Newman and Aston—I have had no complaint that the money has been paid to anyone—Champion got a commission on orders monthly, before I got my money.
HARRIETT HOLLIDAY . I am the wife of Thomas Holliday—I live at 2, Rockliffe Street, Islington, which is opposite and facing 1, Rockliffe Street—Newman and Aston moved in there on two nights with a small, one-horse, covered cart—two or three days after the name of Newman and Aston was up—I looked, but saw no business carried on there—I saw a van deliver flock there—two days after it was taken away—I always thought Aston was master of the place—I saw him there—a carman left a sewing machine there—I sent across for him and spoke to him, and then he took it away.
Cross-examined by Aston. I saw many different men there—I took no
notice of them, except of the man I thought was the master of the place—I saw no light in the place, only firelight, and I saw no business carried on—there is a gateway attached to the house, large enough to back a small van in—when the flock came the van was backed to the gate, and the flock taken in in sacks—it looked like flock to me—the machine was left at the house, and the door was shut, and I sent for the man, and told him I never saw any work done there, and the machine was moved away—he did not tell me why it was taken away.
GEORGE HENRY LEECH . I am a member of the firm of James and Thomas Wilde, flock manufacturers, of Oldham—in December, 1892, I received this letter, purporting to come from Newman and Aston, of 1, Rockliffe Street, manufacturing upholsterers, English and foreign timber merchants, etc. (This ordered spotted wool, cotton flock, and cotton)—we executed that order; the value was £12 17s.10d.—last January we sent the account in—we did not receive payment, but we received this letter. (Stating that they settled accounts on the first day of every month, and ordering more flock)—we replied, and received this letter of 16th. (Ordering another ton of flock, and stating that they would remit in the usual way)—the money was never paid—we sent no more goods—in the beginning of February I came to London—I saw an old man at 1, Rockliffe Street, and after a little time Aston came—the old man had said that Charlie was coming, and Aston was the Charlie—I said I had called to collect an account from him, and asked him where Newman and Aston were—he said they had gone out some short time previously, and he suggested that we should go out to look for Newman, as Newman was the moneyed man of the concern, and he would assist me to get this account—he said Aston was the practical man of the concern—we went out together to look for Newman—we met Hedges in the King's Head Yard, and Aston introduced me as from the country to him, and he gave me an order for some flock—Aston and Hedges seemed friendly; they were evidently acquainted—we also met Ricketts and Marks, who both gave orders which I booked—we saw a number of other people that day; we went to a dozen places, I daresay, some of them business places—Aston took me to Flowers, and Hall, and Williams, of Stamford Hill—we were not able to find Newman—I asked Aston his name and he said Charles Norwood, and that he lived in Richmond Road, Kingsland—he referred to the old man I had seen at Rockliffe Street as Old Raff—he had called himself Alfred James—next day I went again to Rockliffe Street—I saw Aston, and we went on another search, but could not find Newman—Aston said the account was perfectly right, I need not have any anxiety about it; he would look after it for me and send it on—I sent an account in later on, and it came back through the Dead-letter Office—I believed that Newman and Aston carried on a genuine business at 1, Rockliffe Street, and I parted with my goods on the faith of that understanding—subsequently I went to Mr. Harper's premises, a customer of mine in Drysdale Street, where I saw some of the flock I had sent to Newman and Aston—I sent goods to Hedges at King's Head Yard, Kingsland Road, and I also sent goods to Williams.
Cross-examined by Aston. We executed Hall's and Flowers' orders—I did not take an order from Bowman Brothers, Tottenham Court Road, nor any orders in the West-end—Bowman Brothers offered one, but it
was too small—orders were given to me by the men you introduced me to—it was left to my discretion whether I executed them—Raff introduced you as the foreman; you told me yourself you were Norwood—I did not tell you that my name was really Wilde—you might have asked me if I had done business with Harper, and I said he was a customer—I have no recollection of saying I had sold him stuff—I did not say it was not our flock that he had—to the best of my belief and judgment, it was our flock at hit place; I cannot swear it was—I did not ask for references, or make inquiries about Newman and Aston—I sent the goods on the faith of your application; I thought you were respectable business people—Masters is not the Hedges I was introduced to.
EDWARD THOMAS HARPER . I am an upholsterer, of 28, Drysdale Street, Hoxton—on January 9th Aston called and offered some cotton flock for sale—I bought it, and paid him £3 12s. on that day—he gave me this receipt. (This was for£3 12s.for 18 cwt. of flock)—Leach afterwards came for orders, and I said I had got a cheaper market, and he saw the stuff and recognised it, and asked me who I bought it of—I said, "Newman and Aston," and he said, "Why, it is mine."
Cross-examined by Aston. This is commoner stuff than I buy from Leech.
Cross-examined by Aston. Two other men came as well—I heard at the Police-court that one of you was Newman—I did not hear a policeman say it.
CHARLES RICHARDS (Inspector Criminal Investigation Department). On 15th April I went to 266, Hoxton Street, with a warrant for the arrest of Wilson or Lewis—I said, "Wilson, I hold a warrant for your apprehension for fraud and conspiracy; it is for obtaining a piano by fraud from Mrs. Wastall"—he said, "She cannot proceed criminally, as. she issued a writ and took me through the Civil Court, and took some goods against the piano; is there any other charge against me?"—later on he said, "I never gave a reference in my life; and as for Aston, you do find some good names. I don't know such a man Look here; I am a tradesman, and I order some goods, and people supply them without any reference, and I cannot pay for them. Bigger fools them. I don't see what it has to do with anybody else"—he was. taken to the station; the charge was read to him; he made no further answer—I searched the house, 266, Hoxton Street, but found nothing worth mentioning—I found a number of unpaid bills and County-court, summonses, amounting in all to £130 12s.3d., in the names of John Hedges, M. A. Lewis, Mark Albert Lewis, and Charles Lewis—I found this letter addressed to Aston, De Beauvoir Square—at three o'clock on the 15th I saw Aston at the Clerkenwell Police-station—I read the warrant to him—it charged him with conspiring with others, and obtaining possession of goods and shops—he said "It is quite right that I bad 1, Rockliffe Street"
Cross-examined by Aston. I did not find the letter referred to by Andrews—the first four times you were brought out for identification all eight of you were put together; I said to the officer that one identification
was not fair, and I should not allow it to go before the Court; after one of the witnesses had looked along the row and said he did not know any one, Sergeant Clapp said, "Do you know this one?" and the witness said at once "Yes, I do know him"—people not connected with this indictment have failed to identify any of you, and then have been brought forward as witnesses—some weeks before your arrest I went to your house twice and saw a woman—she said you had lived there from 1890 and were a traveller in jewellery; she did not say you were a cabinet-maker, nor that you had pawned your overcoat.
Cross-examined by Wilson. It was about eight o'clock on Saturday evening I arrested you; you were in your shop working on a mattress—you said your name was Wilson, and that you traded as Lewis—I did not take all the papers I could find; I took a good many, among them a file of papers—I am not sure there were many paid bills; I brought all I found; here is one paid bill for 6s.4d.; that is the only one I can find—the £130 included all the expenses of the High Court and County Courts—I have not taken the bills for the matters in this indictment—with those the total would come up to £200 odd.
By Aston. Hedges is connected with this case; he is not in custody.
Re-examined. I have known Masters as Hedges and Co. in the course of this case; he is not the man who introduced Lewis to Mrs. Wastall; there are two Hedges—I produced every paper I found.
JAMBS SMITH (Detective Sergeant N). On the 16th April I went to 35, Be Beauvoir Square, Kingsland, where, in the top front room, I saw Aston—I asked his name—he said, "Charles Aston"—I told him I was a detective sergeant, and should arrest him on a warrant for being concerned with others in fraudulently obtaining No. 1, Rockliffe Street—he said, "I thought that was all done with"—he was washing at the time, with his clothes turned down at the neck—while he was putting on his things I went across the room to a table, and I turned and saw him going out of the door as fast as he could—he ran downstairs into the backyard, over the wall, and through the back of 5, Derby Road, into Derby Road—I followed him into Englefield Road and into another street, where a constable stopped him—I took him back to the house to get his coat, and then took him to the station—on the way he said, "I don't mind being caught, because I can get out of it; but it takes a long time, and it is a lot of trouble. I did go and take No. 1, Rockliffe Street, and another man named Newman promised to finance the place or pay the money"—I said I did not know Newman—he said he was a respectably dressed man, with whiskers and moustache; "I don't know where he lives, but I saw him a few weeks ago. I have lived at 35, De Beauvoir Square, about two and a half years"—the inspector at the station read the charge to him, and he said, "There is only one item in that charge that I know anything about, that is No. 1, Rockliffe Street As to the piano and bassinettes, I know nothing about them"—on searching his rooms I found a letter from Blackwell and Co. addressed to Charles Rowland, 69, St. Paul's Road, respecting taking a house and some work to be done by Hedges, a builder.
Cross-examined by Aston. I caught you about a quarter of a mile frost your house, I should say—I went to your house twice besides the time when I arrested you.
EMMA ROBSON . I am married, and live at 35, De Beauvoir Square,. Dalston—Aston lodged with us from about November, 1890, until hit. arrest—his rent was 3s.3d. a week—he did not pay regularly; he owed us £3108. when he was arrested—when he first came he said he was a. jeweller's traveller, and afterwards he said he was an overmantel maker—Lewis used to call for Aston, not very often—I only saw Masters come once.
Cross-examined by Aston. You would give your rent to my husband, or to me if he was not there; he put it down—there was nothing to go down when you were arrested—the detective called two months before your arrest and asked if you lived there, and what your business was—I told him you had pawned your overcoat because you had not got any money to pay your rent—you had told my husband you could not get any money from Mr. Newman—you have told us you have come home on, Saturday without a shilling.
Cross-examined by Wilson. I have seen you at my house four or five times—Aston told me your name was Lewis.
THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I am an expert in handwriting at 59 Holborn Viaduct—I have compared the signature, "Chas. Aston," to an agreement between Aston and the landlord of 1, Rockliffe Street, with the two documents written to Richards, and in my opinion they are in the same writing—the writing on these memoranda forms of Williams, White, and Seymour is the same, in my opinion—the signature to the acceptance to the bill of exchange for £22 10s., and the letters to Baldwin, of the Abbey Wood Wool Company, and to the Converting Wood Wool Company are, in my opinion, in the same writing.
Aston, in his defence, said that he had worked for Wilson for over two years; that in November, 1892, he joined Newman, who was to find the money to finance the business, he (Aston) doing the work, but that lie could get no money from Newman, and they parted; he dwelt upon the various transactions, and asserted that lie had had no intention to defraud.
Wilson said that he had carried on business and lead worked hard at 266, Hoxton Street, in the name of his wife, and that whatever he bought he bought with no guilty intention of not paying for.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted.
WILLIAM NEAL . I am a builder, of 87, Finsbury Pavement—the house and shop at 5, Millfield Road, Clapton, belongs to me—in 1891 it was to let, and Mr. Home introduced me to Masters as Wilkins, a shoe maker, whose mother had died leaving him £3,500, and who was going to open in the wholesale and retail shoemaking—he gave me references—I let the premises to him—possession was taken about March, and shortly afterwards I went there and saw Holmes mending shoes—in the window was a small stock of toe-bits, pieces of leather, and boards—there were two or three women living in the house—I received certain complaints after that—when the rent became due I went to the shop to ask for it—I saw Holmes, and told him I expected my rent, and I would try and get it Somehow—he said Mr. Wilkins was not in, it would be all right in a short
while—I never got my rent—some time after I receive a communication from Inspector Nairns, which I communicated to the prisoners, and shortly after I re-took possession of my premises—three months' rent was then due, and another three months accruing; they were about five months in the shop, and the rent they owed amounted to about £22—when I got them back the premises were in a most dirty, dilapidated state—there were a few goods, which Mr. Partridge, from Birmingham, claimed—Holmes asked if he was entitled to give them up, and I said, "Certainly, you have not paid for them, and I don't want to have a lien over them for my rent."
Cross-examined by Masters. It was the September quarter, I think, when you went in—I did not know there were three feet of water under the house when you went in—you said at the Police-court that you were ill; you never told me the cause of it—possibly I said to you as I wanted to get possession, "I can see you will never make a do of this business, go out and give me the key"—I don't think your furniture would have paid the cost of a distraint—I only went into the parlour—Home was a. tenant of mine—he introduced me to another man even worse than you, if it be possible—I paid him no commission—if you did not give me a. reference Home did; he told me about your mother dying—you did work for me and got paid for it before you left the boots—I don't think I ever saw you at work.
Cross-examined by Holmes. You had nothing to do with taking the place; all I know of you was seeing you at work in the shop.
ROBERT MBTCALF . I am a builder, of 4, Ashby Road, Essex Road,. Islington—in September, 1891, the prisoners came and asked me to fit. up the shop, 5, Millfield Road, and accepted my estimate for; £14 10s.—I did the work; I never got paid—I wrote to Masters, whom I knew as. Wilkins—I saw Holmes on the premises once or twice; I did not ask him for payment.
Cross-examined by Masters. I sued you for the money—I don't know what a surveyor valued my work at; there was a little complaint, which was remedied—the shelves were not falling down; one of those near the door was not strong enough to hold your goods—the work was done according to the estimate.
Cross-examined by Holmes. You had nothing to do in giving me the order—I did not ask you for the money—on one occasion, I believe, I saw Masters in the kitchen, and he ran away as soon as he saw me at the door.
ARCHIBALD BALDWIN . I am manager to my father, William Henry Baldwin, a leather-board manufacturer at Liston Mills, Leicester—in November, 1891, we received this letter. (This was headed 5, Millfield Road, Clapton, wholesale boot and shoe warehouse, and requested samples)—we forwarded samples and afterwards received orders, which we supplied; they came altogether to £10 10s.—their promise was to pay as soon as the goods were received, but we were not paid—I came up to Millfield Road; where I saw the prisoners and a woman—I' asked for Wilkins, and the woman said in their hearing he was not there—I was told I should find him at a number they mentioned in Notting Hill Gate—I went but could not find the number—in the window at Millfield Road I noticed some tailor's patterns and a few boot protectors—no wholesale boot and shoe-manufactory
was being carried on there, there was a little boot-repairing—I believed when I parted with my goods that a genuine business was being carried on.
Cross-examined by Masters. I saw the prisoners in a row at Clerkenwell Police-court, and I said another man might probably be you; I said it might be either of you, and you said it was you—I cannot swear positively you were the one I saw in the shop—I did not say I saw boots in the window—there were a few pair of lasts in the shop, but only boot protectors in the window—cash was promised as soon as the goods were sent in—you complained about one boot and then we sent another—I never knew this stuff to be used for repairing as well as manufacturing.
WILLIAM EDWARD PARTRIDGE . I am a boot and last manufacturer, at St. Oscott Street, Birmingham—about November, 1891, I received this order (W. E. P.), purporting to come from Wilkins asking for samples of boot protectors and iron lasts—I forwarded that order, which came to £2 6s.6d.—at the end of the month I applied for payment, and I received no payment, but a further order for about £5 worth of goods, with a promise to send a cheque for the whole amount—I did not execute that order—I sent several applications for payment—I received a letter (which I have since destroyed) in a black-edged envelope supposed to be written by Mrs. Wilkins, saying that Mr. Wilkins had departed this life and left her in straitened circumstances—I went to Millfield Road and inquired about the neighbourhood as to whether there had been any funeral there, and as to the sort of people they were—I went to the place, and saw Holmes and a woman—I asked Holmes if Wilkins was there—he said, "No, he has just gone"—I said I would call in the afternoon—I called the same night and saw Holmes, and asked him two or three questions—he said, "He has not been back again"—I said, "Can you tell me where his other shops are, if he has got any?"—he said, "I dare not do that; there are a lot of them"—I said, "Where is my stuff gone to?"—he said, "To some of the other shops"—I said, "Where are the other shops?"—he said, "There are a lot of them; one of them is in the Portobello Road, Notting Hill, but for God's sake don't tell him I have told you, I have had nothing for breakfast"—I relieved him and went to Portobello Road, but I could not find a shop in the name of Wilkins—next morning I met Holmes, who said, "They are not here, and I don't know where they are; but I have got nothing to do, and I have got no money; can you do with a pawnticket? I have a pawnticket for boots"—I said, "No; I don't want to have anything to do with that; what are they?"—he said, "They are samples of boots that have been sent to us"—I went to the landlord, and we succeeded in getting the prisoners out, and the landlord gave me permission to take from the window my goods, four dozen and five cards of boot protectors, valued wholesale at 1s. 11/2d.; they would be sold retail for about 4s.5d.
Cross-examined by Holmes. You said the pawned boots were sent to the firm.
HARRY LAPSLEY (Detective H). On 21st April I saw Holmes in the Hollow ay Road, and said to him, "I am a police-officer, and am going to take you to King's Cross Police-station, where you will be charged with others"—he said, "I don't understand you, governor"—on the way to the station he produced from a pocket-book this agreement of tenancy
for 42, St. James's Road, Holloway, and tore it in two—Masters' name was mentioned in the warrant—Holmes said, "I don't know any of them"—I afterwards went with Richards to 42, St. James's Road, and searched—I found a number of letters, these applications for references, a memorandum form of Randall, leather and sundry dealer, Torrano Avenue, and six pawntickets relating to boots pawned, and several others relating to other goods.
CHARLES RICHARDS (Detective Inspector). On April 21st I saw Holmes at King's Cross Police-station—I said, "What is your name and address)"—he said, "Bill Holmes, 42, St. James's Road, Holloway"—I said, "I hold a warrant for William Holmes, who used to live with a man named Masters at 5, Millfield Road, and 71, Crouch End Hill"—he said, "I am not the man; I never lived at those addresses"—I looked at some writing in a memorandum-book found on him, and I said, "After looking at this writing I am satisfied that you are the man wanted, and I shall charge you on the warrant"—he said, "Yes, they are my memorandums, and I can explain any of them"—when the charge was read to him he said, "I know nothing about it"—on being removed to. the cells he called me, and said, "I want to speak to you. I was with Masters at 5, Millfield Road, Clapton, and I wrote letters for him as I was starving. I was also with Barnes, 71, Crouch End Hill, but gave no references from there"—this is the pocket-book with the writing in it.
Masters, in his defence, said that he took 5, Millfield Rood, with the intention of carrying on an honest business, and a good business in repairing was done there, but that the place was so damp that he was laid up; that he had no intention to defraud and had made no false representations, and that he had engaged Holmes as his workman.
Holmes said he lead worked for Masters and wrote two letters for him when lie was laid up.
MASTERS— GUILTY of obtaining goods by false pretences.
HOLMES— NOT GUILTY .
620. JOHN MASTERS (35), THOMAS BOWEN (33), JOHN AUSTIN (60), CHARLES ASTON (33), WILLIAM HOLMES (45), and ASHBY BURTON (32) , Unlawfully conspiring to defraud John Wainwright and other persons. MASTERS, BOWEN, and AUSTIN were also charged with obtaining 1,250 tiles of Albert John Tatham by false pretences, with intent to defraud.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MESSRS.
WARRURTON and COLLINS Defended Austin and Burton.
GEORGE RADCLIFFE HEBDEN . I am clerk to Buckland and Garrett, of 66, Cannon Street—we had the letting of 302, Holloway Road, for Mr. Wainwright—in August, 1890, Holmes called, giving the name of Stone, with reference to that house—he gave as a reference J. Browning, to whom I wrote—I received this letter. (Stating that lie had known Stone for many years, and had always found him a highly respectable man, and straightforward in all his business transactions and that he should have no hesitation in accepting him as tenant at the rent mentioned)—the rent was £42
a year—we let the house to Stone—early in 1891 we received complaints about the house—we got possession in August, 1891—the house was then in a very bad state, and had been knocked about considerably—we had to spend £50 to put it in repair—I went to the house and saw Holmes there.
GEORGE YATES . I am a clerk to Messrs. Cookson and Co., solicitors, of 64, Lincoln's Inn Fields—in consequence of instructions from Buckland and Garrett, I drew up this agreement between William Wainwright and William Stone, in respect of the house 302, Holloway Road—no rent was paid—in August, 1891, we instructed Clark and Mountjoy to re-take possession of the house.
FREDERICK CLARK . I am a certified bailiff, of 282, High Holborn—on August 7th I distrained on William Stone's goods at 302, Holloway Road, by instructions from Messrs. Cookson and Co.—£31 10s. for rent was then due—I saw Holmes (Stone) there, and two women and a young girl, and two other men—there was nothing to levy on—I paid Holmes (Stone)£2 2s. to go out of the house, after he had refused to go out for a few shillings.
GEORGE DRYDEN . I live at 304, Holloway Road, next door to 302—when Stone came there in August, 1890, he opened it as a boot repairing place—that went on for a very little time, and then it appeared to the neighbours to become a disorderly house, and complaints were made to that effect—I complained, as a vestryman, to the vestry—tradesmen coming to the house made inquiries of me, and I told them what I thought about it.
ROBERT GORDON . I am a printer, at 61, Hornsey Road—in September, 1890, Holmes came in the name of J. Derby, from 302, Holloway Road, and ordered memorandum forms, "J. Derby and Company, leather sellers, 302, Holloway Road"—I printed them, and sent them to a wrong address, 144, Holloway Road, where a Mr. Derby I have worked for lives—they came back, and then I sent them to 302, Holloway Road, with instructions that they were not to be delivered unless paid for; they were not paid for, but were brought back.
THOMAS PARKER . I am a fishmonger, of 29, Holloway Road—in December, 1891, Holmes called on me and made a purchase, and said he was a coal merchant, and he said, "I can sell you some at a much cheaper price than you can buy them at wharves"—I said I did not want to buy any coals on the cross; I had money enough to pay for them—I did not buy any—he gave no name.
STANLEY ROWLAND ROBERTS . I am a clerk to the Provident Association, 72, Bishopsgate Street, to which 7, Lenthall Road, Dalston, belongs—it was to let in April, 1891, and Poole applied to us about it—he sent this letter. (Dated from 7, Northampton Street, Essex Road, and stating that if the enclosed references, Mr. Lester, 200, St. Paul's Road, Canon bury, his present landlord, and Mr. Wheeler, 36, Clayton Street, Caledonian Road, builder, proved satisfactory, lie would sign an agreement for three years at£28 per annum)—we applied to the references—these are the answers. (That from Lester stated that Poole had been a tenant of his, and was punctual in his payments, and recommended him as a tenant. That from Wheeler said lie had had transactions with Pools, and always found him straightforward and trustworthy)—I drew up this agreement,
which was signed by Poole in my presence, and he went into possession—after some time we received complaints from a vigilance committee about the house, and I went to Lenthall Road—I saw a woman, and spoke to her about the complaints after I had called two or three times—we also had a complaint from the Vestry—I communicated with the police—no rent was paid—at the end of July I went and found the house was empty, and re-took possession—in December, 1892, Bowen called about he same house and filled up this form in the name of Austin, agreeing to take the house for three years at £28 a year, and giving as references Messrs. Hedges and Co., of 49, White Lion Street, Islington, and Newman, Rockliffe Street, Islington—we sent these forms to the references, and received them back filled up. (That from Hedges and Co. stated that they had known Austin between seven and eight years, during which time he had worked for them; that his salary was£2 to£3 per week; that they knew him to be punctual in his payments, and considered him to be able to pay a rental of£35 a year, and likely to be a responsible and desirable tenant. That from Newman said he had known him twelve months; that he had been a tenant of his for a year at£40 rent, and that he considered him to be able to pay£35, and likely to prove a responsible and desirable tenant)—Bowen went into possession—I saw him sign this agreement—he left this billhead on the counter. (This was "From Newman and Aston, of Lisson Grove Manufacturing Upholsterers, etc., Rockliffe Street")—we afterwards had complaints from the Vestry about the way the house was conducted—I called at the house more than once; I never saw Bowen—I saw a woman or a young girl—about 7th March I re-took possession; the house was then empty—when I let the house, first to Poole, and after wards to William Austin, I believed that the references were genuine.
Cross-examined by Bowen. I told the woman that if I were you I should give up possession and leave the key next door—that was before any rent was due—I got the key from next door after the house was empty, but previous to that we sot in from the back by a forcible entry.
Cross-examined by Masters. I cannot recognise Poole.
Re-examined. Rent would be due from Bowen on March 25th.
JOHN JAMES GREEN . I am inspector of the Provident Association—when Poole was in occupation of 7, Lenthall Road, he was written to and asked to call, with the result that Masters called, giving the name of Williams—a mat came with him, who I think is Austin, but I have some doubt—in answer to questions I asked as to the way the house was con ducted, Williams represented that it was held by Poole, and that no women had been there other than a couple of cousins, who had called—I told him we had complaints from the Vestry and other persons—he said they were unfounded—he said Poole was out of town, and could not call personally, and so he had called on his behalf.
Cross-examined by Masters. I did not see Poole to my knowledge.
WILLIAM NEALE . I am a builder, of 87, Finsbury Pavement—5, Millfield Road, Clapton, belongs to me—in March, 1891, Holmes called and introduced Masters as Wilkins, who, he said, was a shoemaker, who had come into some money, and was going to start as a wholesale and retail shoemaker, and wanted to take the house—I let him the premises on a verbal agreement at £40 a year rent, payable quarterly—after Masters took possession in September I saw him two or three times, and I constantly
saw Holmes there—I also saw some women there—I had com plaints about the house—I applied to Masters at Christmas for the first quarter's rent, but he put me off—he never did pay any rent—Inspector Nairn made a communication to me, and I re-took possession about February—I found Holmes and Masters in possession; Holmes gave me the keys—£20 was due for two quarters—the premises were in a very bad state—I had to do them all up—I saw a very slight shoemaker's business done; I had my own shoes and my children's mended there—there was no wholesale, and the only retail business was mending shoes while you waited.
PERCY ARTHUR SMITH . I live at 474, New Cross Road, and am clerk to Mr. Wheatley, an estate agent—in June, 1891, we had 174, Liverpool Road to let—about 25th June, we received this letter from J. Wilkins, 7, Lenthall-road, with reference to the house, and giving as reference, Mr. Herbert; landlord, 1, Houghton Road, West Green Road, Tottenham, and Mr. Wheeler, 36, Clayton Street, Caledonian Road—I wrote and received these answers. (That from, Wheeler stated that he had done business with Wilkins for many years as an artistic writer, and had always found him a most respectable and reliable man, and capable of paying his way. That from Herbert stated that Wilkins had been his tenant for twelve months, and had always paid his rent, and he would be found a respectable and responsible man, and capable of paying£36 a year rent)—I then let the house to Wilkins: I cannot identify him—this agreement was sent to him, and came back signed "J. Wilkins"—he went into possession—the first quarter's rent in September was not paid—we sent a letter saying we had complaints as to the house, and we should take proceedings, and he then went, and we recovered possession in October—we received complaints as to the way the house was carried on.
THOMAS HONHOLD . I am clerk to Messrs. Rutley and Co., estate agents, of 6, George Street, Euston Road—in September, 1891, we had 12, Prospect Place, Islington, to let—Austin called as John Thomas in respect of that house—he said he was an artistic sign-writer, of Liverpool Road—he gave as references Graham, 5, Grange Road; Wheeler, of 36, Clayton Street; and Burton, of 29, Sidfield Road, Stoke Newington—I wrote and got these answers. (That from Burton stated that he had known Thomas some years as an artistic writer, and lie would be found a very respectable and responsible man, quite capable of paying£28 a year rent. That from Wheeler stated that he had known Thomas for some years as an artistic sign-writer, and that he would be found thoroughly respectable and in a position to pay£28 a year rent; and that from Graham stated that Thomas had been his tenant for twelve months, and had always paid his rent, and he recommended him as a tenant)—I then let the house to him—under the agreement he describes himself as of 174, Liverpool Road—Austin (or Thomas, as he called himself) took possession.
PERCY CHARLES RAY . I am a solicitor, of 177, Great Portland Street—12, Prospect Place belongs to my brother and me—in September, 1891, it was let through agents to John Thomas—the first quarter's rent was not paid—I received complaints about the way the house was carried on—I reported the matter to the police, and a few days afterwards I went to the house—I found it very damaged—it was empty—we re-took posses sion—Austin was the tenant Thomas.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. He was in possession for a quarter, I think—I heard complaints about a fortnight or month after he went in.
JOHN FARRER . I am an architect and surveyor, of 20, Finsbury Pave ment—I had the letting of 5, Canonbury Lane in September, 1891, and Austin, who gave the name of John Thomas, called, and gave me as references Burton, of 29, Sidfield Road, and Graham—I had this reply from Burton. (This stated that he had known Thomas for some years as an artistic writer, and that he would be found a respectable and responsible man, and capable of paying£50 per annum)—I also wrote to Graham, and had an answer from him—Austin entered into possession under an agreement—I received complaints as to the way the house was carried on—eventually Thomas signed an agreement to give it up after I had spoken to him once or twice, and told him of the complaints—he went out at last without paying rent; none was due.
EDWARD BENNETT BENNETT . I am Vestry Clerk at Hornsey—I received a complaint in November, 1891, as to 5, Canonbury Lane, in my capacity as clerk to the trustees of the Hornsey Parochial Charities, to whom the house belongs—I went to the house, but did not see the tenant—I wrote to him, and Austin called on me—he said my information was incorrect at first, but I told him I had quite sufficient evidence about it, and unless he would give me an undertaking that he would immediately quit the house I should put the law in force—I told him the complaints were that it was a brothel—he signed this undertaking to go out, and he went out—a man giving the name of Burton also called on me; I do not recognise him.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. Austin was in possession six or eight weeks—complaints began a fortnight or so after he went in, I should think—I identify Austin as Thomas.
CHARLES SOLLY . I am clerk to Messrs. Gilles and Sons, furniture dealers, 263, Holloway Road—in July, 1891, a man named Burton called—I do not recognise him—in October, 1891, Austin called in the name of John Thomas, and gave the address 5, Canonbury Lane—he said he had been there six months—I received this letter of 12th September, 1891. (This was headed 16, Park Street, and was signed Burton. It regretted that owing to illness in his family during the past three weeks he had been unable to keep up his payments, and informed him of his removal from 5, Canonbury Lane to 16, Park Street.)—the man Burton owed me an account, which he was paying by instalments.
WILLIAM DANIEL BURGESS . I live at the Regalia Public-house—16, Park Street, Islington, belongs to a lady, Mrs. Rice, for whom I collect the rents and act in respect of that house—in November, 1891, the house was to let, and Austin, who gave the name of George Simmons, called with reference to taking it—he gave as a reference someone in the Liver pool Road, to whom I wrote, and got a satisfactory reply, which is de stroyed—I let Austin have the house, and he went into possession as a monthly tenant at the beginning of November, 1891—he paid five weeks in advance—when that was up I went to the house more than once, but could not see him—I got no more rent—Burton called on me, and repre sented himself as Simmons's son, and apologised for his father not paying the rent—I distrained in February, but the broker told me there was only enough to pay his expenses, and I got nothing—I had complaints of how
the house was carried on; it was a private dwelling-house—I saw Burton at the house once; he opened the door to me—I know nothing of these lour receipts, W. D. B.,1 to 4, each for £8 10s., for a quarter's rent, received from Mr. Simmons, for the premises 16, Park Street—they are all signed "William Tomlinson"—I do. not know William Tomlinson—I authorised no one to sign my name as having received that rent.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. I received complaints between the time he took the house and February, three or four weeks before he left, I daresay—I ought to have received more rent on 1st January, as it was payable in advance—when I first saw Burton at the Police-court I was unable to identify him; he was not pointed out to me by a policeman—I recognised him when I saw him in the dock.
JOHN KNIFTON . I am a bailiff, of 193, City Road—on 10th February, 1892, I went by instructions to 16, Park Street, Islington, to distrain for a month's rent—I saw there Austin (whom I call "the Colonel": his right name is Withers; the name on the warrant was Simmons), and Burton, who said he was going to turn me out, he was there for that purpose, and he stood in front of the door and said he should not allow me to go in—he said he was living in the house as a weekly tenant to Simmons—when I began to distrain Burton said that the goods upstairs were his—I could only take what was downstairs, and they did not realise enough to pay my fees—some time afterwards I distrained at 7, Northampton Street, Essex Road—I saw Austin there, and Ted Lowther, who is Masters—I think Austin was there in the name of Poole.
Cross-examined by Matters. You were a lodger there—I believe your wife brought down the rent-book—the book said that all the rent had been paid.
HENRY JAMES LONG . I am a house agent at Dalston—71, Malvern Road was in my hands to let in December, 1891—Bowen called on me in the name of William Thomas about it—he gave the address 12, Prospect Place, Islington, I think—he gave as references Wilkins and Simmons—I wrote and got these replies. (That from Wilkins, headed "Wholesale Boot and Shoe Warehouse, 5, Millfield Road, Clapton," stated that he had always found Thomas, who teas his tenant at 12, Prospect Place, a respect able man, and very regular in paying his rent, and he knew him to be in a position to pay the rent mentioned. That from Simmons, headed "16, Park Street, Islington," stated that he had known Thomas for some years as an ornamental writer, and that he would be found a very respectable man, and in a position to pay£42 a year rent.)—I let the house to Bowen under this agreement, which I saw him sign "William Thomas"—he went into possession—in February, 1892, I received complaints about the way the house was carried on, and went and saw Bowen—I told him I had found out that his references were frauds, and that he was keeping the place as a brothel, and if he did not clear out in a week I should take proceedings—he said he did not want a bother, and he would try to do so—he said the people who were seen going down into the basement, I think six couples per hour, were actresses and lodgers—he and the lodgers went out—no rent was owing—I called at 16, Park Street, and 5, Millfield Road, and found both houses empty—I believed what the references said in their letters.
Cross-examined by Bowen. You gave up possession about four days after I called.
RICHARD WILLIAM LEAGE . I am an estate agent at 20, City Road—105, Bouverie Road, Stoke Newington, belongs to William Robinson, and I have the letting of it—in December, 1891, Bowen called in the name of William Thomas—I received this letter from him, dated from 12, Prospect Place. (This slated that the house would suit him, and gave as references Wilkins, 5, Millfield Road, and Simmons, 16, Park Street)—I wrote to those people, and got these replies. (These were in substance similar to the replies sent to Henry James Long)—I let the house to Bowen—I could not get the first quarter's rent when it became due—I went several times to the house, and no one would reply to the door; there were people in the house—in May, 1892, I instructed Mr. Neighbour to distrain—the distress produced nothing—Neighbour paid him to go out—the house had been knocked about in a most shameful manner; the brass handles were taken off every lock, and everything of any value inside the house was taken and sold—it was a private house—we had complaints from the people adjoining.
Cross-examined by Bowen. I cannot say whether you lived there—you said you were going to when you took the house—I believe you did not live 'there—some of your people, or the people you let to, must have taken off the things, because they were safe when you went in—the house was put into thorough repair before you had possession; and after you left the house was ransacked of everything valuable for sale, even the catches were gone from the windows; the broker found out that.
JOHN WALTER NEIGHBOUR . I am an auctioneer, of 93, Old Street, St. Luke's—in May, 1891, I received instructions from Mr. Leage, and I distrained at 105, Bouverie Road—I found Walter Dodson there; I do not see him here—I did not see Bowen—I did not realise anything—I paid Walter Dodson altogether £2 10s. to recover possession of the premises.
RICHARD LOWN . I am a builder, of 12, Ashbrook Road, Holloway—99, Fairbridge Road belongs to me—in 1892 it was in Dodson's hands to let, and eventually I let it to John Wilson at £36 a year—I cannot identify him—I got no rent—a distress was put in; I got nothing—I think we recovered possession in August.
EDMUND ARCHIBALD POPE . I am clerk to Mr. Dodson, an estate agent, who acts for Mr. Lown—I let the house, 99, Fairbridge Road, for him to Masters, who gave the name of John Wilson—he said he was a working jeweller and watchmaker at 105, Bouverie Road—he gave as references Holmes, of 71, Crouch End Hill, and Watson, of 71, Malvern Road—I wrote and received these replies. (That from Watson stated that Wilson had been his tenant for the last twelve months, that he had always paid his rent, and that he recommended him as a responsible tenant. That from Holmes stated that lie had known Wilson for ten years in the jewellery trade, and that he could recommend him as a very respectable man, and in a position to pay the rent mentioned)—Masters went into possession—we could not get the rent, and eventually we got a distress warrant and handed it to Mr. Meadon to execute.
Cross-examined by Masters. I did not come into the room to identify
you; I saw you when I was brought straight into Court—I did not know your name was Masters.
DAVID GEORGE JOHN MEADON . I am an auctioneer at 1, Mount Grove Road, Islington—on 29th June I levied a distress on the goods of John Wilson at 99, Fairbridge Road, for £9 10s., a quarter's rent due on 24th June—the first time I went I only saw a woman, who said she was. the wife of Mr. Fortescue—the second and third times I saw no one—Fortescue, who is Austin, called at my private house and asked for time—he said he was an under-tenant of John Wilson—I distrained, but he said he would go if we gave him his goods, and we gave him his goods—then I went and found nothing was left—I never saw Wilson—in February, 1893, I had the letting of 42, Bullen Road, Islington—Bowen called in the name of Allen, of 7, Lenthall Road, Dalston, for particulars, and gave as references W. Bailey, 188, Dalston Lane, and Hedges and Co., 49, White Lion Street—I wrote and got replies. (The COURT intimated that as this was not charged in the indictment it should not be proceeded with.)
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. When I went to 99, Fairbridge Road, to distrain, it had been occupied for a quarter.
WILLIAM REEVE . I am a doctor—I have been attending Mr. Edmund Rae—I saw him the day before yesterday; he was then in bed suffering from influenza—I would not allow him out to-day, as it would be dangerous.
The deposition of Edmund Rae was read as follows:—"I am one of the firm of Fraser and Heigh, estate agents, of 35, Fortess Road, Kentish Town. No. 60, Bickerton Road, Upper Holloway, belongs to a Mr. Ash, and on February 29th, 1892, it was in our hands to let. Masters called on me, and said his name was Wilson, of 5, Bouverie Street, Stoke Newington. He gave as references Mr. Watson, of 71, Malvern Road, Dalston, and A. Burton, of 20, Woodfield, Mildmay Park. I handed the application and references to Mr. Ash, and there my business then ended. In June, 1892, in consequence of what Mr. Ash told me, I went to 60, Bickerton Road. I did not find Masters there. I found two lodgers there, both women; their rent-books showed that their rents were paid. I took steps to recover possession of the house. At that time No. 58, Bickerton Road was in our hands to let, and a man giving the name of Walters, of 99, Fairbridge Road, applied to me. I do not see him here. "
HERBERT EDWARD ASH . I am a solicitor, of 40, Bedford Row—60, Bickerton Road belongs to my father, for whom I act—in 1892 Rae sent me an application for the house—I wrote to the references and had these replies. (That from Burton stated that he had known Wilson for a number of years, and had always found him straightforward, and that he could recommend him as a tenant. That from Watson stated that Wilson was a tenant of his for twelve months, and always paid his rent, and he could recommend him as a tenant.)—I let the house to Masters under this agree ment, which I saw him sign in the name of John William Wilson—a short time after he had been in possession I had complaints that the house was noisy—I went there several times, and I believe I saw Masters
there—I saw Bowen there—eventually I instructed Messrs. Fraser to re-take possession—I got no rent—I believed the statements in the letters, from the references when I let the house—the next house, 58, Bickerton Road, also belongs to my father—a little time after Austin came in the name of Walters about that house—he gave as reference J. Masters, builder and decorator, 81, Kingsland Road—I wrote to him, and had this reply. (Stating that Walters had been his tenant for twelve months, and had always paid his rent, and that he recommended him as a respectable and responsible tenant)—I had some information which prevented my letting the house.
Cross-examined by Masters. Possibly I might have told you to go out before the quarter was up on account of the complaints I had heard.
RICHARD STANDING . I live at 30, Mildmay Grove, Islington—in March, 1892, No. 20, St. Paul's Place, which belongs to me, was to let—Austin called in the name of John King about it—he gave the address 50 or 52, Ashburton Grove, and said he was a wood engraver, and wanted a better light, as it was too dark for his work where he was living—he gave as references Walters, 14, Sylvester Road, and Aston, 60, Bickerton Road, his landlord—I wrote and received these answers.—(That from. Walters stated that he had known King as a wood engraver for some years and that he would be found a thoroughly honest and respectable man, and he recommended him as a tenant. That from Aston stated that King had been his tenant, and had always paid his rent, and that he could recom mend him as tenant.)—I asked him if he would produce his rent receipts for the last year, and he brought me three quarters' rent receipts in respect of Ashburton Grove, each signed on the quarter-day, and I re marked, "You have paid your rent very punctually; each of these receipts was paid on the quarter-day"—he said, "No, I don't pay my rent on the quarter-day, but the landlord always dates them from that, date"—he signed this agreement in my presence, and took possession—after a short time I had complaints about the way the house was carried on, and I went to 50, Ashburton Grove, and made inquiries about Aston, who was supposed to be the landlord—I went to see my tenant, but failed to find him in—I lodged a complaint with the Vestry—I did not apply for rent, because I wanted them to go out, and they went out after seven, eight, or nine weeks—I wrote to King, saying that as he had got the house by misrepresentations I should prosecute him if he was not out in a week, and he went out in about a week, and sent me the keys, but; left some lodgers in—no business of wood engraving was carried on there.
HARRIET GILBERT . I live at 2, Woodville Grove, Mildmay Park—Burton lived at 1, Woodville Grove in May, 1892, and from there her went to Queen Margaret's Grove, quite close by—I saw him remove his goods one evening, nearly at ten o'clock—I followed them—they were taken to 20, St. Paul's Place—afterwards I saw him in occupation there—Austin came there when Burton was there.
MATILDA NAPTHAN . I live at 1, Woodville Grove, Mildmay Park—in November, 1892, Burton took two of my rooms at 6s.6d. a week—he told me he was a policeman from Dalston—he had with him two women, one of whom he called his sister, and a little girl—Wright, a greengrocer, moved him in—after he had been in a little while men came to visit the women, and in consequence of what I saw I told Burton I should have to turn them out—he said he was not aware of it, he would get rid of the
women—he did not do so—I went before the Magistrate and took ejectment proceedings, and eventually I got them out—he abused me most shamefully when he went—I did not get my rent—he went to Queen Margaret's Grove after that.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. Burton was at my house three weeks or a month at most—he took the rooms on a weekly tenancy, and he paid two weeks—I made complaints at the end of two weeks about people who were there.
ALFRED CULLEY . I am an ironmonger, of 139, Brayard Road, Peckham—50, Ashburton Grove, which belongs to me, was to let in March, 1892—Austin came in the name of John King and applied for tenancy—I understood him to say he was a wood engraver and wood-type cutter—he gave a reference, which I have mislaid—I had a satisfac tory answer, describing him as a very respectable man and eligible tenant—I let him the house on this monthly agreement—I got no rent—I called at the house; I saw no wood engraving or type cutting going on—I found that when Austin had left there was a woman occupying the room upstairs who gave the name of Aston—she showed me a rent-book, by which it appeared she had paid her rent—I should think Austin was there five weeks.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I went about five weeks after he went in and the house was empty; it might have been only two days after the month was up.
EDWIN CARPENTER . I live at 66, Downham Road, and am collector to Boyce and Evans, house agents—in May, 1892, we had 81, Kingsland Road to let—Masters called in the name of John Masters, and gave me this reference, King, 20, St. Paul's Place—I wrote, and received this reply. (Stating that Masters hail always paid his rent, and recommending him as a tenant)—Masters signed this agreement in my presence—the rent, which became due on the 24th June, was not paid—I went to the house several times and applied for payment, but never got paid—in July he said he wanted repairs done, and he gave me an estimate, and he and his men did them, and he sent in a bill for about £10—I did not pay it because the rent was owing—I gave him notice to leave in October—he went at the latter end of October, when he owed about £16 for rent—we did not get that—I went on the premises and noticed a few paper hangings, paint-pots, and a little plaster of paris, perambulators, and mail-carts—I think that was about June last year—I saw four or five account books—I saw Masters himself there—I made no inquiries as to whether there was a firm of Aston, Wilson and Co.—we received complaints in respect of the premises.
Cross-examined by Masters. When you were shown over the place and complained of its state I said I would do it up, and I did whitewashing and papering—you sent for the sanitary inspector, and he wanted some alterations in the drains—the district surveyor condemned the back wall as a dangerous structure—if you had paid £16 for rent we would have paid you the £10 7s.6d. for the work you did to the house—you have not finished the work yet—we paid you £1 on account because you refused to go on unless you had some money—the wall was not completed—you told me that the sanitary inspector said I ought not to have let the house in such an unsanitary condition—you
said you should not finish the work unless you got the sovereign I pro mised you, and next day I brought you notice to quit, and you left—I did not know you were doing work for Mr. Pearce—I have seen several things in your shop which were shifted about from one side to the other, and I have seen people drinking in your back parlour, which roused my suspicions—I did not go into the back parlour—you said when you went in, "I will make you take down the whole of this house and make you take the roof off."
Re-examined. I saw Rafferty write on one occasion—I think this paper is in his writing—he was in my employment to go messages and take down the names of people who called.
JAMES WILLIAM GOLDSMITH . I live at 79, Kingsland Road, next door to 81, which Masters occupied in June, 1892, I believe—I saw Aston there the last four or six weeks that Masters was there—very little business was carried on at the shop—paper-hanging and plumbing.
Cross-examined by Masters. I was told you did a job at the public house over the way—once or twice I have seen a cart leave with ladders, steps, pails, and things—we could see too much, and you did not like it, and when you had a little drop of drink you came and annoyed me, and you kicked my shutter in after I had shut up.
SAMUEL FRANKLIN . I am a solicitor, at 1, Raymond Buildings, Gray's Inn—I act for Miss White, the owner of 21, Mildmay Grove, Islington, and manage her property—in July Austin came in the name of Fortescue about taking that house—he said he was a sign-writer, earning from £4 to £5 a week—I gave him particulars of the house, and he gave as references A. Burton, 44, King Henry Walk, Ball's Pond, and Mr. Pauling, 24, Grove Road, Bow—I wrote and got these replies. (That from Burton stated that he had always found Fortescue to be a thoroughly honest and respectable many and that he had no hesitation in recommending him as a tenant.)—I saw Austin sign this agreement as Fortescue—he went into possession—we had previously arranged that he was to do the necessary repairs, and we were to allow, him so much in cash and deduct so much from the first quarter's rent—a few days after he went in I had an anonymous letter, saying the house was used as a brothel, and I went to Austin and told him, and said that unless he got out I should put it into the hands of the police—he denied it at first, but I pressed it, and ultimately he admitted it, and promised to go out within a week—he went out within ten days—a quarter's rent was not then due—I believed the reference signed "Burton" was true when I let him have the house, and it was on the faith of that and the other letter that I let him have the house—this cheque was given to Fortescue in anticipation of the work he was to do; it was paid—he did not do the work—the cheque is endorsed "John Fortescue, Mildmay Grove, Mildmay Park," and I think that endorsement and the reference in the name of Burton are in the same writing.
FRANK MITCHELL . I live at 131, Haggerston Road, and am in the employment of William Walton, auctioneer—44, King Henry Walk, Ball's Pond, was occupied up to October, 1891, by Mr. Rawson, and during the latter part of his tenancy Burton lived there—Burton called at our office and said he was a private inquiry agent, and an ex-policeman, and he wanted to take 44, King Henry Walk, from Rawson—I agreed to
let him have it on Rawson's recommendation—Burton paid £1 deposit, hut no more—when I called for the month's rent he had gone—the rent was £36 a year, payable monthly.
JAMES GLBSON . I live at 6, Thornhill Road, Barnsbury, and am agent to Captain Frederick Penton, owner of 49, White Lion Street, Clerken well—in August last that house was to let, and I received this letter of 30th August, signed "J. Masters, T. H.," asking for particulars—I replied, and received this answer. (Offering to take the house and giving as references his landlord, Fortescue, 21, Mildmay Grove, Mildmay Park; Sadler and Co., Steam Saw Mills, 11, Holcombe Street, Canal Road, and J. Smith, of the Midford Arms Livery and Bait Stables, where he kept his pony and trap)—I had these replies. (That from Fortescue said that Masters had been his tenant for twelve mouths, and had always paid his rent, and lie would be found thoroughly respectable and trustworthy, and in a position to pay£36 a year rent.)—this agreement was entered into, which Masters signed in my presence—I went to the house five weeks after Christmas, when the rent became due—I saw his wife; I got no rent—I afterwards saw Masters there, but not often; I more often saw a man known as Hedges—a man who went by the name of Aston came to the office in reference to some work—ostensibly a jobbing builder's and glass business was carried on at 49, White Lion Street—I saw no work going on there—I saw Hedges and another man there; they generally came to my office if they wanted anything—at the time I believed in the genuineness of this reference—Masters occupied the place for about half a year—no rent was paid—I sent to distrain, and the house was found to be shut.
Cross-examined by Masters. You did work for me, but you did not finish it—your bill comes to £1 15s.—here are receipts for work we paid you for.
JAMES DOBSON . I am a clerk to Messrs. Leigh and Pemberton, solicitors to Captain Penton, the owner of 49, White Lion Street—last January I sent Masters a notice to pay the rent—we received this letter. (Stating that he was disappointed in not receiving money for work he had done, and that he would forward the rent on Monday.)—he did not send it—we issued a distress warrant—we got no money.
HERBERT MALCOLM . I am a printer, at 66, High Street, Islington—on 10th January Masters, in the name of Hedges, called on me from 49, White Lion Street, and ordered memoranda forms like this: "Hedges and Co. (late Dawe and Co.), lavatories and sanitary works, plumbers and gasfitters, glass cutters to the trade," which we printed—they came to two shillings; we did not get paid—another man (who is not here) called with an order for one hundred memoranda forms of Newman and Aston, which we printed—we did not get the three shillings for those.
Cross-examined by Masters. You gave me the order as though you were Hedges.
THOMAS BUNDY . I am an indiarubber manufacturer—69, St. Paul's Road belongs to me—it was to let, and in October last Austin called, and gave the name of Thompson—he said he was a facia writer—he referred me to Mr. Brown and Mr. Masters—this is Mr. Masters' letter. (This stated that Thompson had been his tenant some months, and recom mended him as a desirable tenant.)—on that I entered into this agreement
with Thompson, which he signed, and went into possession—I got the first quarter's rent three or four days after Christmas Day—after that I made complaints as to the way the house was conducted—I called, but could not see Thompson—I wrote to the vestry—my second quarter's rent was not paid; he sent me the key in a letter.
Cross-examined by Mr. COLLINS. I got possession four or five days after September—he left before March 25th—I heard from Mr. Cross over the way, of the way the house was being carried on, and went to the vestry clerk.
WILLIAM PIERCE . I live at 9, King Henry Walk, Finsbury Park, and act for Grover and Sons, builders—in November last 1, Rockliffe Street, Islington, belonging to them, was to let—the prisoner Aston came to me, and I gave him the particulars—he said he lived at 33, De Beauvoir Square, and was a plasterer—he referred me to Mr. Smith, of 69, St. Paul's Road, and W. Hedges, 49, White Lion Street—I wrote to them and got replies—I drew up an agreement between Aston and myself—when the rent became due on December 25th I applied for it more than once, but never got paid, and after the March quarter I found the house shut up—Mr. Smith's letter stated that he had had transactions with Aston, and always found him trustworthy, and Mr. Hedges' letter that he was always punctual in his payments, and able to pay the rent—I had great difficulty in getting possession, but in February this year the keys were left at my office.
Cross-examined by Aston. One month's rent was due on December 25th—after I called for the rent you called, and said you were about to take a partner, and it would be convenient if I deferred the rent to the follow ing quarter—I did not say that I must have the rent next day or the keys.
Re-examined. I think the name of your partner was Masters.
HARRIET HOLIDAY . I live right facing the premises, No. 1, Rockliffe Street—I remember someone taking possession on two nights—Masters used to live there; I do not recollect any of the others—I saw a van load of nocks delivered there, which were taken away next day after school time—I saw a photograph at the Police-court of the old man (Rafferty).
Cross-examined by Masters. I identified you at the Police-court—I did not look at you for ten minutes first—I did not notice that you had a beard—I pulled my curtain on one side to look at you—you have not got the same clothes on.
Cross-examined by Aston, This is the third time I have been brought to look at you—I said at the Police-court that Masters lived at Rockliffe Street, because I have seen him come out—I did not see what you moved in, because it was dark—the goods went in at the private door.
CHRISTOPHER HENRY PRATT . I am clerk to the Planet Building Com pany—the house, 3, Bridport Place, belongs to them—a man named John Aston called on me; that is Bowen—he gave his address 60, Bickerton Road—I let him the house; he signed the agreement in the name of Bowen, and I witnessed it—the rent became due on May 5th; it was not paid—I wrote and received this letter of May 12th: "I have forwarded your letter to Mr. Aston, who is in the country, and immediately on his return he will forward cheque for rent"—I went to the house, found it locked up, and did not see Bowen—I broke in, and we got possession.
JOHN MEAD . I am carman to Mr. France—on May 10th, last year, I delivered a ton of coal to Mr. Mead, of Bridport Place—I saw Burton; he told me not to shoot them in the cellar, to shoot them in the kitchen on the floor—I got this receipt (produced) signed John Ward.
WILLIAM BIGSLEY . I am a varnish manufacturer, of Trundley Road—in April a traveller brought me an order for varnish for Watson and Co., of Canterbury—I wrote for references and received the name of Mr. Montague, 260, Essex Road, Islington—I wrote there, and received a reply on April 15, and on the 17th Mr. Kelly came to me just in time to stop the goods.
REECE PROTHEROE . I live at 50, Murray Road, Tollington Park—70, Northampton Street belongs to me—in January, 1891, W. Poole applied to me, that is the third prisoner (Austin)—he said he was a sign writer—I asked him for a reference, and let him the house at £2 10s. a, month—I called for the rent after the expiration of the first month, but never got any rent—I saw him with Masters—he said he was a plumber—they afterwards came together to ask for payment for the work done, but as the rent was owing I did not pay them for the work—I gave Austin notice to leave, and he came to me with Masters with the keys, and wanted a half-sovereign—I said I would not give it to him—he said, "I will stop for twelve months now"—I then gave him a half-crown.
Cross-examined by MR. COLLINS. The agreement was as a monthly tenant—the house was all right when he went in.
Re-examined. I never asked him to do the work.
MRS. ROBSON. I live at 35, De Beauvoir Square, Dalston—in November, 1890, Aston came to lodge with me at 3s.3d. a week, which was not paid—he owed me over £3 when he was taken—I have seen Hedges there, who is not here now, and Masters.
Cross-examined by Masters. I saw you at the end of the square, but you did not come to the house.
Cross-examined by Aston.£3 10s. rent was owing—I took some rent, but did not put it down; it was not my place when there was a landlord living there.
WILLIAM HENRY PRESTON . I am clerk to Mr. Tatham, a tile maker, of Paddington—in May this year I received this order. (This was for tiles in the name of Aston and Co.)—we executed it and received another order, and then a third, in consequence of which we sent 700 buff, red, and blue tiles, value £2 9s., for which we have never been paid.
By the COURT. We knew Cotes before—we did not go to him—we took his word that they were all right.
JAMES HARVEY . I am a builder, of 58, Topham Street, Islington—in May, 1892, Masters called on me; he said he had 1,250 tiles to sell—I bought them for £5 15s., which I paid him—this is the receipt. (Signed J. Aston).
Cross-examined by Masters. I swear I paid £5 15s; for them—I did not put thirty shillings on the counter for them—it is not the first I have
bought, and it is not the first time you have tried me—I did not buy a watch at the Barley Mow.
GEORGE HENRY LEACH . I am a flock manufacturer, at Oldham—in consequence of orders I received I came up to London and saw a photo graph which I recognised—I saw Aston, and learned from him that they called the old man "Old Raf," but he told me his name was Alfred Jarvis.
Cross-examined by Aston. I went inside the house, but never saw you—I went into all the rooms; I saw no furniture.
Cross-examined by Aston. Alfred Jarvis gave me an address, but it was wrong.
CHARLES RICHARDS . I am an inspector of the Criminal Investigation Department—in April last I received a warrant for the apprehension of the defendants and two others—on April 5th I went to 9, Canonbury Road and saw Morton; I said, "Lowther, I want to speak to you"—I knew him as Lowther—I said, "Come outside"—we got into a cab, and I conveyed him to the station, and read the warrant to him and Bowen, who was. there—neither of them made any reply—I said, "There are other addresses"—he said, "I only lodged in Prospect Place"—I said to Aston, "I hold a warrant for you under the name of Fortescue"—we went to the house and I read the warrant to him—he said, "I do not know anything about the piano"—on April 6th I saw Aston at Clerken well Station with a man named Lowther—I read the warrant—Aston said, "Yes, it is quite right"—Lowther has since been discharged—I went to 97, Canonbury Road, and found Marks—I took him in custody, and went back and searched the house, and found four receipts for rent of 16, Park Street, in the name of Tomlinson—in the bedroom occupied by Burton I found an invoice of Watson and this workman's time-book; the last entry is November, 1888—I also found a. book containing the names of Graham, Wheeler, Burton, Simmonds, Brown, Morton, Thompson, King, and Wallsey; and a book of Watson and Co., 92, Canonbury Road, and a letter of Hedges and Co.—I searched the house of a man named Wilson—on 21st April I saw Holmes at King's Cross Police-station, and asked him his name—he said, "Bill Holmes"—I said, "I hold a warrant for William Holmes," giving him the address—he said, "I never lived there; I am not the man"—he after wards sent for me and made a statement—I saw him write his name and address at the station.
Cross-examined by Aston. You were charged with obtaining the piano—you did not make any reply.
REECE PROTHEROE (Re-examined). I went to a house and saw a, woman—I do not know who she was—I had to go in and see if I could recognise her, and picked her out from twenty or thirty—after I recognised her I was told her name, not before.
HARRY LAPSLEY (Detective H). On April 21st, at 3. 30, I saw Holmes in Holloway Road—I said, "I am going to take you to the station, where you will be charged, with six other men, with taking houses"—he said, "I don't understand you, governor"—he took out an agreement for 42, St. James's Road, and tore it in two pieces"—he said, "I don't know anything of the other men"—next morning, at one a. m., I took Burton at. Canonbury Road—I said, "lama police-constable; I am come to-arrest.
you for taking houses"—he said, "I expected this"—I asked who his landlord was—he said, "Mrs. Masters, she is sleeping in our room; she gets drunk every night, and drops into the first room she comes to"—I went with Richards to Burton's house after he was at the station—after Holmes was arrested I went to his rooms, and found a letter addressed to Mr. Hurd, asking him to give references for a house, also an envelope and a letter to Mrs. Kelly, and a pocket-book with the leaves torn out—I found this agreement on Holmes, and some pawn tickets relating to books, and a rent-book.
Cross-examined by Aston. I brought the witnesses in to recognise you—Richards did not tell me that what I was doing was not right—I did not touch any of the prisoners and say, "Don't you know this man?"
JAMES SMITH (Detective Sergent N). On April 15th I followed Bowen to Mildmay Grove, and said, "I am a police-officer; I shall arrest you on a charge of forgery"—he said, "Oh, what is it all about?"—I said, "The inspector will tell you"—on 16th April I saw Aston in the top room at 33, De Beauvoir Square, and said, "I shall take you on a warrant for taking houses"—he went downstairs, over a wall, to the back of 5, Derby Road, and through that house to Inglefield Road and Bloomsbury Street, where he was stopped—I took him back to the house for his coat—he said, "I don't mind being caught, but it took a long time; I did take No. 1, Brockley Street; I have lived two and a half years at De Beauvoir Square"—when the charge was read he said, "There is only one item in that charge I know anything about; the pianos and bassinettes I know nothing about"—I searched his house and found this letter, mentioning work to be done by Hedges, the builder—I was keeping observation on 16, Park Street, and saw Holmes, Burton, Austin, Bowen, and Martin, and about nine o'clock one night I saw Burton removing. goods with a little van.
Cross-examined by Masters. I know that you lived at 1, Brockley Street, and at 49, White Lion Street.
Cross-examined by Aston. I saw several men and women—it is a small house, but the yard may be 70 feet long—I did not go in.
THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, of 59, Holborn Viaduct—taking this agreement, signed "John King," as a basis, I have examined a number of documents signed King, Smith, Fortescue, Poole, John Showers, and James Williams; they are all in the same writing as the agreement—I believe these four receipts for the rent of 16, Park Street, in the name of Tomlinson, are in Aston's writing, and also the letter signed "W. Herbert," which is a reference for Mr. Wilkinson, who was taking No. 7, Lenthall Road—I believe the docu ments purporting to be written by W. Charles as a reference for Mr. Poole to be Austin's writing, the same as the agreement—I have compared the Jetter produced by the constable this morning, and proved to be written by Burton, with the letter signed "J. Weald, of Caledonian Street," and with the document from 29, Ledfield Road, signed "A. Barton," they are in Barton's writing as to references—this document F. F. 1, signed. "T. Barton," giving another reference, is in Barton's writing—there are other documents in Barton's writing—this is a letter written by Watson, and giving the name of Montague—these other letters are in Rafferty's writing—I am familiar with other specimens—this
letter signed "J. Masters" is in Rafferty's writing, and so are these marked J. G.1 and J. G. 2, and C. H. P. 2 and C. H. P. 4, signed "John Wilson pro pro Aston and Wilson," also this reference to Allen, also H. M. 2, and three letters signed "Martin" and one signed "Browning"—I have looked at the writing in the pocket-book, and compared it with the letter E. A. P. in respect of G. Wilson, and signed W. Holmes; that is in Holmes' writing, and so is the signature to the agreement, and so is this letter from Charlton Place, returning the key—the agreement between Captain Penton and Masters is in Masters' writing, and so are these accounts, H. E. A. C. 1 and K. P. 1, which is a bill for making three joints for some water pipes, signed "Wm. Johnson"—this agreement, H. J. L. 3, is in Bowen's writing, and so is H. E. A. 146, and so is part of S. R. 25, the whole of the manuscript part, and so is this letter stating that W. Thomas has viewed 105, Bouverie Road, and giving Wilkins and Simmons as references—this agreement for 60, Bickerton Road is in Bowen's writing, also this (an order for tiles), and this letter.
Cross-examined by Masters. I do not find any letters in your writing, barring the signatures.
Masters' Defence, I do not deny the signature to the agreement. At each place I have been at I have done a legitimate business. It is proved by the landlord of 49, White Lion Street that I had billheads and did plumbing work. What my partner did I know nothing about.
Bowen's Defence, I had possession of the house in Bickerton Road, but never lived there. I was told the best thing I could do was to give up possession and leave the key next door.
Astons Defence. I don't think I am connected with any of them; there has not been a reference proved against me.
Holmes Defence. I wrote the letter for Wilson, that is all I had to do with it
GUILTY on the Conspiracy Counts, and
MASTERS and BO WEN GUILTY on all Counts
The JURY recommended HOLMES to mercy.
MASTERS**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. BOWEN*— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. AUSTIN*— Two Years' Hard Labour. ASTON**— Five Years' Penal Servitude. HOLMES**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. BURTON— Two Years' Hard Labour. WILSON**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
The COURT and the GRAND JURY commended the conduct of the Police in this case.
OLD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, July 7th, and 8th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. MOYSES and DR. COONEY Defended.
John Gough (Police Sergeant X), produced and proved a plan of the locality, with tracings of the same.
FANNY GREER . I am the wife of William Greer—in the beginning of 1892 I lived at 165, Quin Square, Waterloo Road, Lambeth—I knew a woman living at No. 168 who went by the name of Mrs. Croucher; that was in another set of rooms in the same building, above mine—she left some time last year; she was quite a young woman, about eighteen or nineteen, not more—I saw the prisoner at Quin Square only once; he was going down the stairs, and the woman said, "That is Cooke"—I don't know whether he heard it—I did not see his face, so I could not swear to him—I saw that same woman again last Christmas at 24, Stangate Street, Lambeth—I spent the evening there, and had supper with her; the prisoner was there, and had supper with me and my husband—the woman introduced him and said, "This is Sam Cooke"—she was going in the name of Cooke there; she lived there—when I came away I left the prisoner there in her company—I saw her again just before the Whitsun holidays; she came to my place—I did not see the body of the woman that was found on Wormwood Scrubbs.
Cross-examined. I could not swear it was the prisoner I saw at Quin Square; I only saw the back of him as he was going downstairs—I don't think I have said that I did not see the prisoner there—it was on Christ mas night that I saw him at Stangate Street; it was a Sunday night, I think.
Re-examined. I spoke to him then; he was pleasant and friendly—we did not stay late.
EMMA FELMORE . I am the wife of John Felmore—we formerly lived at 13, College Street, Lambeth—I remember a woman taking a furnished room there in the name of Mrs. Smith—she brought her husband to look at the room that same night; it was the prisoner; I saw him—she des cribed him as her hushand when he was in the passage—he looked at the room and said it suited him if it suited her—she paid some rent in advance; the prisoner gave it her in my presence—he was in plain clothes—I afterwards saw him in police uniform—she came in August and left in November—the prisoner was there nearly every day, just as if he was her husband—he lived with her as her husband—sometimes she said he was on night duty, and he used to come in in the morning, and stay in during the day—they had quarrels, and he used to knock her about; I heard it, and she used to complain to me about it—she always said it was his fault—I never saw him hit her, but I have heard him smack her face, and he would push her against the things when the things were broken—they were fighting several times, and while they were there a soldier came to see her; she said he was her brother.
Cross-examined. I heard the sound when the prisoner smacked her, I did not see it—the quarrels were very frequent and would last a considerable time, and there was loud talking—I could hear it all; I was in the next room—I did not hear both voices, she would not answer—he used to want her to answer him, and she would not—there would be a dreadful noise as if he was pushing her about the place—I am not living at the same place now, I left in June last—I took in other lodgers—two soldiers.
came to see her; they both said they were brothers—I did not believe it, and would not let them come—when she said the quarrels were always the prisoner's fault I did not believe her; I thought it was sometimes hers—I can swear that the prisoner has slept in the house—I could not say that both the soldiers did, I know one did—the prisoner had to be at the station at night—she said one soldier's name was Croucher; she gave no name to the other—I did not see any other persons come.
Re-examined. It was when the prisoner was on night duty that the soldiers came to see her—I gave her notice to go, in consequence of what was going on—I never spoke to the prisoner about the soldiers—I never heard anything take place between the prisoner and the woman about the soldiers coming there.
MART ANN WRIGHT . I live at 24, Stangate Street, Lambeth—in the beginning of November last a woman took a room in the house in the name of Mrs. Cooke, and the same evening a man came—he stayed the night, and during the time she was there, that was about two months, I used to see him coming in and out—I cannot recognise him—I have looked at the prisoner—he looks like the man, but I should not like to swear to him—they left at the end of December.
Cross-examined. I live in the kitchen—they lived above me, in the parlour—it appeared to me that the man was there every night for five or six weeks, but towards the end I don't think he was there every night—sometimes he stopped in all day and did not go out at all, and he went out late at night.
ELIZABETH DEANE . I live at 8, Tennison Street, Lambeth—a woman whom I knew as Maud Cooke rented one room in my house from about January to April last—the prisoner lived with her—I knew him by the name of George Samuel Cooke—he had a key of the room—she had to leave about five or six weeks ago in consequence of not paying her rent.
Cross-examined. My room was downstairs—theirs was two floors up—I did not see much of them—I know the man has spent the whole night there, I could not say how often, he had a key—I treated the woman as the tenant—when she left my parents kept her boxes for the rent—they lived on happy terms—there were no other visitors as far as I could say—she told me her age was 23—I think she looked as much as that.
HARRIET BAILEY . I am the wife of Henry Bailey, of 39, St. Gabriel Street, Lambeth—a woman lodged with me for three or four weeks prior to the 6th of June, who I knew by the name of Maud Merton—I last saw her alive about seven o'clock on Tuesday evening the 6th June—she was then dressed, going out—on the 8th June I saw her dead body at the Hammersmith Mortuary, dressed as she was when she went out—I have never seen the prisoner before.
Cross-examined. She gave the name of Maud Merton when she took the room—she would have been there a month on the following Friday—as far as I know she came home every night—she had a key and could let herself in.
GEORGE WOOD (Inspector E). The prisoner was formerly attached to Bow Street Station, and was a constable of the E Division—he was a single man, as far as the authorities knew—on 28th April last a woman who gave the name of Maud Smith, alias Cooke, came to Bow Street
Station and saw me—she gave both names—in consequence of what she said I sent for the prisoner, and in his presence she made a statement which I wrote down—she signed it, and I countersigned it—this is it (Exhibit I)—after the statement was made the prisoner put some questions to her upon it—I took them down, and likewise her answers—this is it (K)—that was signed by the prisoner, and the woman, the prisoner, and I signed it—on the same day the prisoner made a report referring to the matter (L), and he signed it. (These were put in and read as follows: "Bow Street, 28th April, 1893.—I, Maud Smith, alias Cooke, of No. 8, Tennison Street, York Road, Lambeth, have known Police-constable 130 E, Samuel George Cooke, for the last year and ten months. I first became acquainted with him when he was in Brewers Lane, Strand. I had been on the street then as a prostitute three or four weeks. He frequently came to see me when I resided at 168, Quin Square, Waterloo, and at 24, Stangate Street, Lambeth, where I passed as Mrs. Cooke, and in October last he has stayed at the latter address with me; I kept him. He was on annual leave, and passed off in the house as a waiter. He has often struck me, and one night he caught hold of me in South ampton Street and shook me by the throat. That would be about last Christmas. Since then he came to my lodging, 13, College Street, and beat me, but for what I don't know. I left that lodging shortly after because I was ashamed to stay there through him. Last Thursday, the 20th, he came to my lodging and took away all my letters from my box, and my key. I met him in the Strand yesterday afternoon and asked him for it; he refused to give it me. I then came to Bow Street and com plained of his conduct, but I refused to give his name or number. He knows I am a prostitute walking the Strand for my living. "By George Cooke:"What name were you living in at 168, Quin Square?" "Croucher." "Did I ever go and take the room with you?" "Yes; at 13, College Street; we took that room, and paid one week's rent, six shillings, and you stayed with me the first night." "What was the reason I came to your room and hit you after six that morning?" "A policeman told you I was larking about in the Strand the evening before." "Why did I stay my long leave with you?" Because you said you had no money to go anywhere else."
Prisoner's report at Bow Street same date:"With reference to the complaint made against me by Maud Smith, alias Cooke, I beg to report I first knew her in June, 1891, and I went to see her at 168, Quin Square, Waterloo Road, and 13, College Street, and 24, Stangate Street. I always paid her what she asked me. As regards her taking a room at any time in my name, and saying we were man and wife, I was ignorant of it at the time. Last September she refused to let me keep company with a woman I was shortly getting married to, and I had to leave her, as she said Maud Smith was always waiting to see where I went, and it preyed on my mind; I could not stand it any longer. I admit going one morning to 13, College Street, and striking her, but as regards the long leave in September I had made arrangements to go home to my friends, but on going in the morning from Bow Street she was waiting for me, and persuaded me to go to her at 24, Stangate Street As regards a latchkey, I never had one.")
WITNESS. In consequence of that matter the prisoner was first of all suspended, and the case was inquired into by the Assistant Commissioner
—About a week afterwards, the prisoner was reinstated, and transferred to the X division.
Gross-examined. That was done to remove him well away from this woman—she was a well-known prostitute on the Strand—she was charged with being a disorderly person after this complaint had been made; that was after the prisoner had been transferred—I can't answer if she, was convicted, because I was not there—I was at the station when she was charged, and also at the Police-court; but what was done with her I don't know, I was not in Court at the hearing—with the exception of his connection with this woman the prisoner has borne a very good character indeed—the woman was told that the report against him would be likely to cause him to be dismissed the force.
Re-examined. That was at the time she made the complaint.
SAMUEL ROSEWARNE (127 X). I am attached to Notting Dale Police station—on 6th June, about eight in the evening, a woman came there, and made some inquiry of me; I answered her inquiry, and she went away in the direction of Silchester Road—the prisoner was living in Silchester Road at that time—that is about five or six minutes' walk from the North Pole Public-house—on the 8th of June I saw. the dead body of that same woman at the mortuary; I recognised it as the same woman.
Cross-examined. She asked for Cooke—she seemed desirous of finding what duty he was on—I gave her the information.
Re-examined. She was quiet and orderly in her manner.
JOSEPH HARRIS (422 X). On Tuesday, 6th June, I was on duty op posite the North Pole public-house, about ten minutes past ten—I knew the prisoner as a constable attached to the Notting Dale Police-station; I did not know him as Cooke—there are two constables who go on duty at night round the prison on Wormwood Scrubbs; they would pass me as they went on duty—a constable passed me going in that direction—soon after he had passed me a young woman spoke to me, and made some inquiry—in answer to her inquiry I pointed out the constable who had just before passed me, and she walked after him quickly, along North Pole Road, in the direction of the prison—from the pace she was going I should imagine she would have caught him up in Wood Lane; from there he would pass up Du Cane Road—I remember seeing Constable Kemp pass me later on, I should think about half-past eleven, going in the same direction—on the 8th June I saw the dead body of a woman at the mortuary, and I recognised her as the same woman who had spoken to me on that night.
Cross-examined. She went after him at a very quick pace—she asked me if I could tell her where Police-constable 365 was on duty—after she left me she walked away at a very quick pace.
THOMAS GRIMSHAW . I am a chemist employed at Wormwood Scrubbs Prison—I live in a cottage beside the prison, facing towards Du Cane Road, it is part of the prison itself—beside my cottage a pathway runs on to the Scrubbs—at the top of that pathway there is a wooden stile and three upright posts, and at the other corner there is a plank adjoining leading over the Scrubbs—on 6th June, about a quarter to eleven, I was coming home from Wood Lane up Du Cane Road—when I was within a few yards of my cottage I noticed two people standing in front of the cottage—there is a lamp a few yards further up on the opposite side—I could not see who the two people were until I got close to them; then
I noticed it was a young female and a police constable in uniform, on duty—I passed them to go into my cottage—as I passed I said, "Good night" to the constable, and he turned round and said, "Good-night" as I passed him—when I was a few yards away from them I heard them talking loudly, in an angry tone—they appeared to be speaking to one another in an angry tone—I did not catch what was said—I went indoors, and first to my bedroom and then, in about a minute, went into the kitchen; that is a room outside which the two were standing at the time I entered—I still heard the voices, and I distinctly heard the man say, "I don't know where he," or she," lives"—I did not catch whether it was "he" or "she"—both the voices went on for some few minutes, still in the same tone, as if they were having an altercation; then they suddenly ceased—I went to the side door of the house, opened it, and went into the back garden and listened for about a minute—the garden abuts on the pathway of which I have spoken—I did not hear anything; all was quiet, and I returned to the house within a minute or so—I had some supper, and then took up a book and commenced reading—I read for about half an hour or more, I should say; the supper would have taken me about ten minutes—then I heard footsteps on the gravel path in Du Cane Road in front of the cottage, and then I heard a voice say, "Are you going off now?"—I do not think it was the same man's voice I had previously heard—as near as I can give it I think it was then about half-past eleven, or it might be later—I did not take particular notice of the time, I am not speaking by watch or clock—that was the last voice I heard that night outside the house—I read a little after that, and then went to bed—on the 10th June I went to the Hammersmith Mortuary, and there saw the dead body of a woman, and I identified it as that of the female I had seen talking to the constable—I afterwards gave to the police at Notting Dale Station a description of the constable I had seen that night—the constables on duty round the prison sometimes put their capes behind my front garden gate, and come for, them when they require them—I cant say that I had seen the constable I saw talking with the woman before—he was the only constable I saw; I noticed that particularly, because I have nearly always spoken to two of them at that time of night, but I noticed there was only that one that night.
Cross-examined. When he said good-night, it was in a calm respectful voice—the woman seemed to be very angry; she was muttering something as I passed—the altercation did not seem more on one side than the other—I could hear both voices; they appeared to be answering one another angrily, but not in an irritated tone—it was like a man speaking—I failed to identify the prisoner at the Police-court.
ALVAN KEMP (149 X). On June 6th I was on night duty at Worm wood Scrubbs—that is a double patrol, two police officers side by side—it was the prisoner's duty to patrol with me that night—he would parade for duty at 9. 45 at the Police-station, Notting Dale—he would leave the station at ten o'clock to go on duty—his road would lie past the North Pole Public-house, and along North Pole Road, down Wood Lane, and up the Du Cane Road—on that night, although it was his duty to go with me, he did not; I was detained about an hour to make a report, and having left the station, walked by the route I have described to the prison, which is nearly a mile and a half—I got there about 11. 20, or it
might be a little later—I did not see anyone in Du Cane Road to my recollection—there are no houses there till you get to Mr. Grimshaw's cottage—when I got to the cottage I saw the prisoner coming along by Mr. Grimshaw's garden wall from the Scrubbs—that is in the pathway—he was within half a dozen yards of Du Cane Road—he went and got his cape from behind Mr. Grimshaw's cottage, as it was just commencing to rain, and he put it on, and I put mine on as well—I had mine with me—I said, "Well, chum, did you think I was never coming?"—he made no reply till we got twenty or thirty yards, as far as the doctor's house, and then he said, "I have been round the prison once"—the rain continued two or three hours; I got wet through—it rained very heavily, especially about one o'clock—we went together round the prison till we reached the old quarters, when he said, "I am going to the w. c."—there are places where you can wash your hands round there, for the warders—I waited for him about twenty minutes, and then went round the prison with him—I said, "Well, chum, do you feel better now?"—he made no reply—we returned to the corner where McKenny's cottage is, and there met Sergeant Low of the X division, and reported to him "All right, sergeant"—he went down Du Cane Road, and the prisoner and I never separated again till 4 a. m. when I went off duty, leaving him behind—his duty kept him in the neighbourhood of the prison till 6 a. m.—during the time I was on duty that night I saw no woman; nothing occurred to attract my attention—we were jolly and jovial as we have been before when we have been on duty together; telling one another yarns, and so on.
Cross-examined. It was a very dark night, I think daylight was half an hour late—I had known the prisoner about five weeks—I have been on duty with him before, but not on double duty—there was nothing different in his manner that night—he was quite calm and collected.
ROBERT LOW (Police Sergeant 6 X). I was at the station on June 6th when the prisoner paraded for duty at Notting Dale Station at 9. 45—he left at 10 o'clock—it takes about thirteen minutes to walk from the Police-station to the North Pole Public-house—on this night I was in charge of the constables doing duty round Wormwood Scrubbs Station, and visited the prison or the neighbourhood of it about 12. 15 and 3. 30, and on both occasions I saw the prisoner and Kemp together, close to McKenny's cottage, and on each occasion they reported "All right"—rain commenced about 11. 30 and continued till about three a. m.; it was very heavy about twelve o'clock.
HARRY WILLIAM KIMBERLEY . I am a shepherd—on the night of June 6th I was in charge of some sheep on Wormwood Scrubbs, and about 5. 45 a. A. m. on June 7th I was crossing the Scrubbs and saw a body lying on the b. ground about here. (Marking the plan)—it was about 250 or 300 yards from a. the corner of the prison where the stile is—the face was covered with b. blood, and one side of it was smashed in—I touched the hand; it was cold, c. and I came to the conclusion that the woman was dead—she was lying d. on her back, her dress was not disarranged, her clothes were over her legs, her e. hat was off, and was four or five feet away—there was no dis f. turbance of the ground that I could see—an umbrella and pocket-handker g. chief were near the hat—I stayed there till a man named Luff came up, h. and sent him for a constable—the body remained in the same position till i. a constable and doctor came—I remember that it rained that night.
Cross-examined. The body was fifty or a hundred yards from any footpath.
WILLIAM PARISH (27 X). On June 7th I relieved the prisoner at six a m.—it is the custom for the man on duty to remain till he is relieved, but on this morning I relieved the prisoner in Wood Lane, fifty yards from Du Cane Road—the beat is confined round the prison wall—I was a little late; it was 6. 15 when I met him, and the Bun was shining—we had some conversation, mostly about the weather, and he went his way and I mine—he went in the direction of Notting Hill—I met a man named Luff in Du Cane Road, and in con sequence of what he said I went to the Scrubbs along the path by the prison wall and over the stile, and at the back of the prison I saw a woman lying quite dead on the grass—I went at once for assistance, and brought Inspector Dillon, and within a short time Doctor Jackson came—next morning, the 8th, I went to relieve the prisoner about the same time, and met him about fifty yards down Du Cane Road—I said to him, "You left a pretty fine job behind you yesterday morning"—he said, "Yes; I heard it was a nasty job; you or your mate ought to have seen it from the corner of the prison wall, because it was light so early"—he said, "No, one would not be able to see it unless their attention was called to it, as the sheep were feeding about there"—I have not given this conversation before.
Cross-examined. When I met him on the 7th he was nearly half a mile from the prison—Du Cane Road is a long road—six o'cock was not the usual time for him to come off his beat; he came off when he was relieved, generally 6. 15—we met where we generally met—I was examined at the Police-court, but was mot asked anything about the 8th—the inspector said this morning that I had better put it down on paper—I said, "We have never been asked who relieved him on the 8th"—he said, "No; of course you will have to make a report out."
ROBERT ALEXANDER JACKSON . I am a divisional surgeon of police, of Portland Road, Notting Hill—I was called to Wormwood Scrubbs about seven a. m., and found the dead body of a woman lying on the ground on her back—there was blood on her forehead and head, and clotted blood under her head—there were two fractures of the skull, one over the right eye and the other over the right ear, and the right eyeball was smashed—those two fractures could not have been the result of one blow—the fracture of the skull over the right eye and smashing the right eyeball might have been done by one blow—the lower jaw was fractured in two places, which could not have been the result of one blow—there was blood on the palm of the right hand, which was under the body; the left hand was on the body, clenched—those in juries must have been the result of direct violence, and inflicted by some lard substance—the body was removed to the mortuary at Hammersmith—round the body the grass was wet, but under the body it was dry—I made a post-mortem examination next day at the mortuary and saw several bruises just by the jaw on the right side, and one on the right shoulder, about the size of the palm of a hand—I found laceration as well as exten sive hemorrhage of the brain, which was probably caused by the injuries I saw—the cause of death was fractured skull and hemorrhage—I think the injuries on the head might have been done with this truncheon, numbered
385 X, but not those on the jaw, where the skin was knocked up, corre sponding with the fracture of the jaw; it was probably done by a kick—the bruise on the right shoulder might have been the result of a blow from the fist or from the hand—the bruises on the face and neck could have been made with the heel of a boot—I believe these (produced) are the pair of boots sent me on June 10th by Inspector Gillham—I placed the heel of one of one of them over the marks on the face and neck, and they corresponded—the heel of the left boot is marked with blood, and so is the truncheon, 385 X, and the pair of uniform trousers, given me by Gillham—there is blood on the left leg of the trousers on one side, between the foot and the knee, and spots of blood on the trousers—Gillham showed me another truncheon; there was no blood on that—the injuries must have been inflicted with very great violence—there must, have been at least four blows, apart from the bruise on the shoulder—I cannot say which blow was dealt first, but assuming it was the blow behind the ear it would have stunned her, and she would have fallen and been incapable of defending herself in any way; and the same if the first blow was the one over the eye, and the effect of either of those blows would be sufficient to cause death.
Cross-examined. There is a space between the two frontal bones, front and back, and the fracture was of the outer one; the two portions do not touch each other—it would not take so much violence to break the outer one as to break both—the fracture over the right ear was over that part of the bone called the squamos portion of the temporal bone; that is a thick part—there are three portions of that bone; that is the part rising upwards, which is very thin, and that is the part that was smashed—it is covered with a muscle—I have seen a fracture by a direct blow of the jaw—I cannot conceive it possible that it was done by the fist—the heart was slightly fatty; there was no blood in the right cavity—she died of syncope, fainting—these trousers and boots do not appear to have been washed—I have been qualified about eighteen years.
Re-examined. There was no indication of injury in front of the chin; it was under the chin—the skin was broken, which would be consistent with a kick when she was lying on the ground—there was nothing to indi cate a direct blow with the fist in front.
By tilt COURT. This truncheon is a serious weapon to use on the head.
KATE ROBINSON . I am the wife of David Robinson, a police-constable, of 39, Silchester Road, Notting Hill—the prisoner lodged with us for five weeks prior to June 6th, during which time a woman called to see him three times—he said she was his young woman, Maud, and he had known her two years and a half—the last time she came to the house was Saturday night, June 3rd—he was not at home, but he got home after she had been there—she left a note for him; he had it when he came in, and I told him Maud had left it—later on the same evening he told me he had had words with her, and that she was a prostitute, and he should see if he could see her when he went out that evening—on Tuesday afternoon, June 6th, I saw him with a letter, which he said came from Maud—he read it to me—she wanted him to mention the exact time she could meet him if she booked to Wormwood Scrubbs Station—he burnt the letter—she accused him of having given his address to a soldier, that
he was underhanded in giving his address to Atkins; the letter said Atkins—he said he should write her a letter, and he did so—on the same evening, between eight and nine, a little girl came to the house, but I did not see her—I saw the prisoner again when he came in the evening—he left to go on duty about 9. 40, in his uniform—I saw him next about 6. 30 a. m. on Wednesday—he was very hot, and I said, "It is a killing morning"—he had a cup of tea, and I asked him to have something to eat—he said he did not feel to want anything—soon after that he went up to his bedroom, first taking off his boots, which he put by the fire in the kitchen—he was only upstairs a minute; he went straight into the back garden—I went for a jug of water, and saw him raking the earth, with his back towards me; he then went up to his bedroom again—I thought he had been planting something—I could not see any plant, and I moved the earth with my hand and found the handle of a truncheon and a policeman's whistle—I covered them up and spoke to my husband about them, and later on Inspector Hatcher came and took possession of them—later the same day I put his boots out in the sun to dry, and noticed that the flies settled on one of them—I looked at it and saw some marks which looked like blood—I handed the boots to Inspector Hatcher next day.
Cross-examined. I understood from the letter that Maud was to meet him the following day, but would not trouble him if he was on night duty—during, the whole time he lived in our house his conduct was good, very nice—I found him very well-behaved and good-tempered; I have not a word to find fault with him.
DAVID ROBINSON (224 X). I live at 39, Silchester Road, Notting Hill—the prisoner lodged with me for four or five weeks before June 6th—on Friday night, June 2nd, or early on the Saturday morning, I came off fixed point duty at 1. 30—I waited at Notting Dale Station, and was joined there by the prisoner—we went together as far as the baths in Lancaster Road—that was on my way home—just as we were coming up to them I saw a woman standing outside, and when we got close to her the prisoner said, "This is my young woman"—when we got up to the baths she crossed over to the other side of the road, and the prisoner called after her, "Maud!"—she walked in the opposite direction, away from him—he called after her again, "Maud, don't be a fool"—we then both went to where she was standing, and they spoke to each other in rather a low tone of voice—I said to the prisoner, "You will get on best by yourselves," and left them—on Saturday, June 3rd, about three p. m., the prisoner said that she had found a letter in his pocket, and they had had some words about it—he did not say why, except that it was from another young woman, and he had told her that the letter was from home, and she had said it was from another young woman, and that led to the words—he did not tell me whether the letter was from home or from a young woman—he used to receive letters at my house—I do not know who they were from—while he was with me he was keeping company with a young woman other than the deceased—he had told me that Maud was a prostitute, and that he had known her about two years, that he made her acquaintance in the Strand, and that she was coming into £300—I did not see her at my house again after that Friday morning—I had seen her there on three occasions, on the 2nd June, and I believe on the 3rd June, and on this occasion—it was on that
day that the prisoner gave me this history about tier, and I told him she had better not come to my place again—on the 6th June, about 6 p. m., I came off duty, and the prisoner was in the house; I think he was in bed—I did not see him go out; I saw him come in, in plain clothes, soon, after nine; that was Tuesday night—it was usual for him to be in plain clothes till he dressed to go on duty—I spoke to him and he left for duty soon after and in uniform—it is a constable's duty to go on duty with his boots cleaned; the men are inspected at the station to see that they are clean—that was the last I saw of him that night—I saw him next morning at 10. 30 or 10. 45—he seemed the same as usual—on that evening my wife showed me a pair of boots; I examined them, and on the heel of the left boot I saw some red hair and blood—after that my wife showed me a spot in the back garden—I uncovered the earth and found a whistle and a truncheon; I left them there and made a report at the same time.
Cross-examined. The marks are on the boot still, but they seem a little different.
ALFRED GILLHAM (Inspector X). The prisoner was a constable of the X Division, serving under me—he came to my division on the 5th May, 1893—on the 7th June, about 7. 15 a. m., I was at Notting Dale Station—I received information and sent for Dr. Jackson and an ambulance, and at the point mentioned found the body of this woman—the face was covered with blood, the mouth was open and filled with blood, and vomit had run out of it to the left side on to the ground—I found a pocket handkerchief by her side marked "Fanny Muster"—near the handker chief and near the head there was a black kid glove, and under one of the hands another kid glove—there was a common brass ring on the left hand—after the body was put on the ambulance the ground under it was dry—I made a further search at the mortuary and found a puree; there was no money in it; there was a latch-key and a small piece of paper—messages were sent to the station, and constables in the neighbourhood of the prison were called on to report, and the prisoner made a report—this is it: "Notting Dale, June 7, 1893.—With reference to report of a woman being found murdered on the 7th inst., I beg to report being on duty at H. M. Prison from 10 p. m. till 4 a. m. on night of 6th inst, in company with P. C. Kemp, and remained on alone from 4 a. m. till 6 a. m., and during the night I neither saw nor heard anything to excite my suspicions.—GEO. COOKE, P. C. 385 X."—early next morning, the 8th of June, Constable Robinson made a verbal report to me, in consequence of which I went with him and McDonald to the mortuary, and Robinson identified the body—I sent Inspector Hatcher to the prisoner's lodging, with special instructions, and on my return to the station I found the prisoner there in uniform—I asked him to change his clothes—he said, "What's up?"—I said, "I want you to change the whole of your clothing"—he did so, and I took possession of them—among them was this pair of trousers—I examined the left leg and found spots on it, red stains, or blood—in the clothing he handed to me I found a purse and these two pocket-books, on a leaf of one of which I found an entry of the night of the 6th and the morning of the 7th June—it is a loose leaf—this is it. (Read. Something that was on it was struck out, then followed: "With reference to report of a woman who was found murdered on the 7th instant, I beg to state that I went on duty at H. M.
Prison at 10 p. m., the 6th inst., till 6 a. m., the 7th, and I heard no noise or saw any woman during that time")—I took this copy of the Echo out of his pocket; it contained an account of the murder—I afterwards received from Inspector Hatcher, a pair of policeman's boots—I placed the whole of the things, including the boots, trousers, and truncheon, before Dr. Jackson—on the 8th the prisoner was called on to make a second report—I know his writing. (This was dated the 7th, but was the 8th: "With reference to a dead body found at Wormwood Scrubbs I went on duty at eleven p. m.; during that time I heard no noise, and saw no woman to arouse my suspicion.")
Cross-examined. There were two rings on the woman's hand, and one was found on the grass—I was present at the inquest nearly the whole time—no complaints have ever been made against the prisoner.
Re-examined. We could not find out whether the ring which was picked up, belonged to the deceased.
EDWARD FRANCIS (147 X). I went with Inspector Hatcher on June 8th to 39, Silchester Road, and saw the prisoner, and told him Mr. Gillham wanted to see him at the station—he said, "What does he want me for?"—I said, "To make out a further report respecting the woman found murdered on Wormwood Scrubbs"—he went with me to the station and at the station door he said, "I know what they want me for; they want me to screen somebody, which I am not going to do, if I get the sack for it"—we both went into the station, and Sergeant Hearn ordered him to make out a second report—he went into the library to do so.
Cross-examined. I do not know what he meant by "screen."
WILLIAM HEARN (Police Sergeant). I was in charge of Notting Dale Station when the prisoner came there with Francis on June 8th—I ordered him to make out a second report with respect to the woman found murdered on Wormwood Scrubbs yesterday morning, and he made out the report dated June 7th—it was, in fact, made on the 8th, but I did not notice the date.
RICHARD MUNN (45 X R). At nine a. m. on June 7th I was on duty at Wormwood Scrubbs, near where the body had been found, and near where the seat of the body had been I discovered a brass ring, which I took to the station.
DANIEL MORGAN (Police Inspector). From early morning of June 7th, when the information reached me, I was placed in charge of the elucida tion of this inquiry—I saw the prisoner at Notting Dale Station on June 8th about two p. m., and had a conversation with him, I speaking and he answering—I took it down during the time the conversation was occurring, and then read it over to him—this is it: "June, 8th, 1893.—George Cooke said: 'I am P. C. 385, serving in X division, and reside at 39, Silchester Road, with P. C. 224 Robinson and 320 McDonald. I have been in X division about five weeks, and was before that in E division at Bow Street for nearly three years, and before that in A division for six months, and in L division for about six months before that. I joined the Metropolitan Police 25th June, 1888. I know a woman by the name of Maud Cooke; the last address I knew her at was 39, St. Gabriel Street, St. George's Road, Lambeth, and before that 8, Tennison Street, Lambeth. She has also passed by the name of Smith. I first became acquainted with her about two years ago in the Strand. She had only
been out a day or two as a prostitute. She told me her mother lived somewhere at Finchley or Holloway, and that she had been a barmaid at the Clarence Public-house, I believe, in the same neighbourhood. I have never seen any of her relatives. I have seen her about three or four times since I have been in this division, and I told Mrs. Robinson she was a prostitute. I got a note from her on Saturday night, and met her in Silchester Road. I had no quarrel with her. She was with a man named Atkins. I don't know what regiment. He had spurs on. I have not seen her since. About 9. 15 on Tuesday night I was at my lodgings, when Mrs. Frampton, a lodger, told me I was wanted. I went to the door, and saw a little girl, a stranger, and she said, "You are wanted up at the corner," and pointed towards the Prince of Wales's Feathers Public house. I went there, but saw no one. I knew I did not see the woman Maud that day or night. I came on duty at 9. 45 p. m., and was posted on the prison. I usually have another constable with me, but on this night I was alone until just after eleven p. m. when I was joined by Police constable Kemp. I was also alone from four a. m. to six am. on Wednes day. I heard nothing irregular and saw nothing irregular during Tuesday night, and the first I heard of the murder was at 10 a. m. yesterday, when I was called up to report. I had a letter from Maud on Tuesday last; I read it to Mrs. Robinson, and then burnt it. I began to write in reply, but did not finish the letter. Maud told me in the letter that if I was on night duty she would not come up. She asked me to write and tell her what time and place I could meet, her, that she would come to the Scrubbs station. She also referred to the man Atkins, and that I had given him my address. I went yesterday morning to the back garden at my lodgings, and buried a truncheon and whistle. I intended to do so before. I was afraid if the inspector came to visit my lodgings he might find them. I had heard the inspector sometimes visited the lodgings. I bought the truncheon for 6d. from Black Dick; he was dis missed over three years ago. I had the whistle from same man at the same time, and had them more than three years. The boots produced by Inspector Morgan are mine. I wore those boots on Tuesday night. I cannot account for what appears to be blood stains. I have not worn them since Wednesday morning. I cannot account for the stains on the leg of my trousers. I wore these trousers every night this week. I out my thumb on Monday; I was cutting some tobacco. I spoke to Mrs. Robinson about it. As to the £20 found in my possession, I have been saving it during the past two or three years. Police-constable Fred Knight, E, and Police-constable 210 E, have seen it in my possession. I don't know what the stain is on the towel found in my box; it has been on the towel over twelve months. I have had no quarrel or dis pute with Maud since I have been in this division, but we have differed once or twice through not keeping appointments. The last letter, on Saturday, was addressed from 39, St. Gabriel Street, signed "M." I swear positively that I have not seen the woman Maud since Saturday last, when she told me she was going to Boulogne. She did not ask me for any money. I cannot give any reason for suspicious circumstances mentioned by Inspector Morgan—viz., the woman Maud inquiring for me on Tuesday night, her body being found on the Scrubbs, and the sup posed blood stains on my boot and trousers, and why she was in this
neighbourhood. I never saw or spoke to any woman on Tuesday night I never spoke to a woman near the prison between ten and eleven p.m. when a gentleman passed. No gentleman spoke to me. I have seen the statement made by P. C. Harris. I do not dispute it; but I saw no woman. I passed a police constable at the North Pole Public house, and I went in the direction he states I did.—Signed, GEO. COOKE. "—that statement took some time to make—after he had signed it I left the station, and about six the same evening returned there and charged the prisoner with the murder of the woman—he made no reply—I made some measurements—it is 306 yards from the east or nearest corner of the prison to the place where the body was found—the length of the path between the posts is about 200 yards, rather more than less, from the stile to the Du Cane Road—from the body to the nearest footpath was sixty-three yards.
Cross-examined. The defendant's beat extended round the prison for its protection—he was strictly confined to the prison, and was not to go away unless he was called—the statement took a long time—I did not put the questions down, simply the answers—I did not caution him—I was asked before the Coroner, "Was the accused cautioned?" and I said, "According to Sir Henry Hawkins it was not necessary"—I showed him the reports—I did not put him through a process of cross-examination—I asked him if he could explain certain statements which he had made in writing—I arrested him the same evening after six o'clock.
ROBERT MCDONALD (320 X). I lodged at Mr. Robinson's for five months—about a month before June 6th the prisoner had been lodging there—I saw Maud Cooke there three times; the last time was on the Sunday before June 6th—he told me he had been out with her that night, and had seen her away by the last train for Charing Cross—he said she had been a barmaid—he did not say what she was then—he never said anything about means or money—on June 5th I was on night duty, and left the house with the prisoner—on June 6th I had leave, and went to Brighton for the day, and came back at 11. 30 or 11. 40 p. m.—on June 8th I handed Inspector Hatcher a pair of boots belonging to the prisoner; they had no marks on them—I was in the garden when Inspector Hatcher dug up the things in the garden—I recollect the prisoner going away to the station—I went there later in the day—I was in the charge room with the prisoner from nine a. m. till six p. m., when he was charged—I was present when he made his state ment to Inspector Morgan, who then left; and about three p. m. the prisoner said very quietly, "I wish Police-constable Kemp was not detained at the station, and that would not have occurred; they have not got the instru ment with which it was done. It is a good job they did not catch me red handed"—later on in the day he said, "I must have been a fool to tell Mrs. Robinson about the letter I received. If I had gone home yesterday morning and told you, and mentioned Mrs. Robinson, if you had heard anything respecting the murder not to say a word about it, I would not be placed in this position to-day"—he said other things to me in the course of the day—an hour or two after he made the statement about not having the instrument with which it was done I reduced it to writing, and gave it to Inspector Morgan next day—this note was made in my pocket-book while the thing was fresh in my memory, at the request of one of my superior
officers, that I might make no mistake: "You said to me yesterday afternoon that you wished Police-constable 149 had not been detained at the Police-station, and it would not have occurred; they had not got the instrument with which it had been done; it is a good job they did not catch me red-handed."
Cross-examined. I was with him the whole day—he could not have left the room if he desired—I was put there to keep observation on him, that he did not go away—Inspector Morgan told me if he said anything of importance I was not to tell it to anybody but him—I must have made a mistake in writing, "You said to me yesterday afternoon"—I wrote it in the afternoon—this (another) was written about 6. 30 on Thursday evening—I wrote the paper which you have in your hand the following morning—I spoke to him in a very low tone; nobody five yards away could hear it—he was sitting in the charge room—I did not beckon him to come nearer, nor did he beckon to me—I was not whispering all day—I did not speak to him about the deceased, or say "How long have you known her?"—he and I were fellow lodgers—I am not aware that that was the reason I was put into the room with him—I do not remember whether Hatcher came in at all.
INSPECTOR MORGAN (Re-examined). The memorandum at the end of this document is in my writing.
FREDERICK HATCHER (Police Inspector X). I am stationed at Notting Dale Police-station—on 5th May, this year, the prisoner was transferred to the X division, and remained discharging his duties up to 8th June—on that morning I went to his lodgings after he had left them—I saw Mrs. Robinson, his landlady—she showed me and I took away this pair of policeman's boots—I noticed some red stains on the left one—I gave them to Dr. Jackson—I went with Mrs. Robinson into the back garden; she pointed out a spot to me, and I raked up the earth with my hand and found a policeman's truncheon, No. 857 A, and whistle 4,067—I took them to the station, together with some articles of the prisoner's uniform, which I found in the kitchen—among the articles was this second truncheon, No. 385 X, and his own whistle—this truncheon and whistle were issued to him when he came into the X division, and he would have them in ordinary use—the other two articles had not been issued to him so far as I know—I handed both articles to Dr. Jackson—the prisoner remained at the station the whole of the 8th, and was charged about half-past six in the afternoon with this crime—next day, Friday, 9th June, he was brought before the Magistrate—Dr. Jackson and Inspector Morgan were shortly examined, and a remand was ordered—that was about one o'clock—at that time an application was made by the prisoner's, solicitor to permit some of his friends to see him—that was acceded to, and in order that he might see his friends more conveniently I took him into the police waiting-room at the Police-court, and stayed there with him for about twenty minutes—during that time no one came into the room—it was before his friends came—directly I got into the waiting room the prisoner began to speak to me—being under remand I cautioned him, but after my caution he went on making a statement to me—as soon as he left me, within ten or fifteen minutes of his making the statement (because his friends came in then) I began to write, and I wrote out his tatement, as far as I could remember it, in my pocket-book—it was quite
fresh in my memory—as near as my memory serves me this is what the prisoner told me at this time—this note represents my memory now on the subject—it is word for word as he uttered it—when I cautioned him I told him not to make a communication to me unless he wished me to use it in evidence against him. (The note was read as follows: He said, "I suppose it is no use trying to get out of it." I said, "I do not know." He said, "You have not got the right tool it was done with. It was not done with that truncheon at all." (He alluded to the one found in the garden). "It was done with the truncheon I was carrying, my ordinary truncheon. When I got round the prison that night I saw her. I said, 'What are you doing here?' She said, 'I am going to stop here until you go off duty. 'I said, 'There will be another policeman up here directly.' She said, 'I should like to see him, I would tell him something.' I said to her, 'You clear off.' She said,' I shall not. 'We stood arguing the point some time, and I went across the Scrubbs towards where she was found, thinking I should get out of her way; but she followed me. In going across I took my truncheon out of my pocket and put it up my sleeve. When near the spot where she was found I said to her, 'Are you going?' She said, 'No, I am going to stop and annoy you till Sunday, and then you can—yourself.' She then turned her head; I drew my truncheon and hit her on the side of the head. She fell down and never moved. I then hit her, I think, twice on the head, and once under the jaw. I then placed my foot on her neck, and kept it there for about five minutes. She never moved, but gave one gurgle. I then went back to the prison, and saw Police-constable Kemp, and told him I had been round the prison once, and we were very jolly all night afterwards. I thought nothing of killing her. I have been much happier since she has been dead than I was before. She was always annoying me, and I was in misery")—That was all said to me on the occasion referred to by the prisoner himself—nothing more was said in reference to the case—after he had made that statement I was still there when the young woman, the prisoner's friend, came, and they had an interview together—it was stated in the prisoner's hearing that they were sweethearts—while she was there Constable McDonald came in, and he had a conversation With the prisoner for about two minutes, I should think, and then left, leaving the young woman behind—she remained about ten minutes, and then left—I saw the prisoner put into a cell and left him, and then I commenced to make this note, which has been read—later that same day I took the note to Morgan, and I made a copy of it and sent it to the Commissioners of Police.
Cross-examined. I made the note in the waiting-room where the prisoner was—I did not read it over to him—he gave me the statement right away—it was all said within the twenty minutes—Mr. Haynes, the solicitor, came in just before the young woman came—he was not there a minute, I am sure—the young woman is highly respectable—no one else was with the prisoner; the assistant gaoler did not come in occasionally—at times a superior officer might come to a constable's lodgings to examine his kit and uniform, and if the constable was in possession of a truncheon not his own it would provoke inquiry—both of these are police truncheons—a man leaving a division is bound to give up his truncheon, and no constable
having a truncheon handed to him has any right to part with it to anybody, and the same with the whistle—I did not ask the prisoner in the room, "How did you sleep last night?"—I think in the van coming down he said he slept pretty well—I am not sure if I asked him; I believe I did not—nothing caused him to say it, except that he said there was a row outside the station—he saw a lump of wood in the van coming down—I believe I said, "I have still got this lump of wood"—I cannot recollect if he said, "So I see"—I did not make a note of that at the time—I said, "There are stains on it," and he examined it—I only showed it to him once—he did not say, "Yes, you showed me that yesterday morning, when I told you it was paint"—the word "paint" was mentioned by him or me on the Scrubbs on the morning of the 8th—we were talking of this piece of wood on the Scrubbs on the Thursday—I did not say, "I expect you were lonely at the prison by yourself"—when he told me he put his truncheon up his sleeve I did not say "And a good thing too"—I said nothing then—I never saw a constable put his truncheon up his sleeve—I did not say, "If you had not buried the A Division truncheon you would never have been suspected"—I believe I said, referring to the truncheon found in the garden, "There was nothing on that"—he said he had never carried it—I did not say, "There is nothing on your own," or anything about his own—we sat and talked together in the van coming down—I made no report of what was said then—I made no note of it, as I did not think it was necessary—I did not ask him if he had anyone to defend him, or tell him that a solicitor would do him no good, or ask him if he had seen Inspector Reed—before the remand in the room I said, "There is another police-constable on the Du Cane Road as well as you"—I knew nothing of the prisoner before he was in the X Division.
EDWARD ATKINS . I am a private in the 4th Dragoon Guards—in January, 1892, I made the acquaintance of the deceased—I knew her as Maud Merton and Croucher—on 3rd June last I saw her at 39, St. Gabriel Street—on that day she spoke to a constable at Notting Hill in my presence—he was in uniform—I could not swear to him—we all had drink together—she did not leave me before the policeman left—he gave me his name and address, which I wrote down on a piece of paper—I threw the paper away accidentally some time ago before I knew of this case; I wrote on it "Mr. Cooke, 39, Silchester Road"—he asked me to drop him a line.—Q. What about? A. Nothing at all—I saw the deceased again on 4th June, and that is the last time I saw her.
Cross-examined. I broke off my courtship with her about November last, and did not renew it—when I was with her at Notting Hill she left me in a public-house and returned with a constable, whom she introduced to me; it was getting dark—I accompanied her to her lodgings;—I did not stay with her all that night—she saw me off to Aldershot—I have visited her at other lodgings, not in Tennison Street—I slept with her at her lodgings once—I did not know her as a prostitute till after November last—I did not know she was married, or pretended to be married, to the prisoner.
Re-examined. I broke off keeping company with her in November when I discovered the life she was leading.
this year—about a month before 6th June I saw him, and he said he thought he should get married—he showed me from £15 to £20 in gold.
HENRY POMEROY (34 A R). I was at one time 857 A—this truncheon, 857 A, was mine—I lost it about three years ago from my peg in the clothes room at Westminster Section House—the prisoner at that time lived in the same house and would have access to the clothes room—I made every inquiry after missing the truncheon, but never found it.
ALFRED GILHAM (Re-examined by MR. MOYSES.) Edward Honour and his wife, Ella, made reports to me last evening—they live facing Wormwood Scrubs, 700 or 800 yards from where the body was found. (MR. MOYSES was proceeding to ask what statements were contained in the reports. Mr. Justice Hawkins ruled that this question could not be asked; Mr. Moyses could, if he desired, call the persons who had made the statements.)
GEORGE WOOD (Re-examined by MR. MOYSES). During the time the prisoner slept at the Bow Street Section House, it would be his duty to be in at twelve, unless he had permission to be out later—I do not know if he had been a sailor or fisherman at Yarmouth.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY upon the ground of the provocation he received.
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 30th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Four Months' Hard Labour.
623. WILLIAM HOWIE TASSIE and FRANK BRADLEY, Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Robert Nicol Aitken certain valuable securities, with intent to defraud. Other Counts, for conspiring to commit the same offence.
MESSRS. MATHEWS and BIRON Prosecuted, MESSRS. G. F. GILL and PAUL TAYLOR Defended Bradley, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Tassie.
ROBERT NICOL AITKEN . I live at Carminia Road, Balham, and am draughtsman in charge, employed by the City of London Electric Lighting Company—in 1890 I lived at Ailsa Craig, Culverton Road, Balham—before that I had known Tassie—he had acted for me in a few Stock Exchange transactions—in 1890 he was carrying on business as an outside broker at 226, Piccadilly—he knew from prior conversations that I had got £1,100, nominal value, in Argentine Four and a Half per Cents. £500 in Uruguay bonds—two or three days before October 9th, 1890, he told me he had a friend who, owing to the default of the Argentine Government, could do something for me in respect of these bonds—the default of the Argentine Government was in respect to the falling in value of these bonds—I was to get money for the loan of them—he suggested he had a friend named Bradley, who would pay me £20 if I deposited the bonds with him—on 9th December I met Bradley at Tassie's office by appointment—I had the bonds with me—Bradley said he had a friend in
Yorkshire named Stourton who wanted a temporary loan for three months, and if I would lend these bonds for that period I should get good interest—the bonds were to be deposited with Mr. Stourton's bankers as security for the loan he wanted—I never heard anything more at that time whether the arrangement between Bradley and Stourton had been concluded—I handed the bonds to Bradley, and received this receipt from Tassie at that interview: "Dear Sir,—I beg to acknowledge the receipt of the under mentioned securities, to be used re loan to Stourton, £1,100 Argentines, £500 Uruguays.—TASSIE"—I didn't make any mention of what interest I was to have then—the same evening I received a note from Tassie, and went to his house, when he gave me the £20 I was to have for the loan of the bonds—it was arranged between Bradley, Tassie, and me that the loan of the bonds to Stourton was to be for three months, which would be up on 9th March—I saw Tassie several times before 9th March—on one occasion I asked when the bonds would be returned, and he said Bradley had had a letter from Stourton in Canada asking for a renewal of the bonds for another three months—I objected to it, and said I wanted the bonds back—Tassie said, "You need not bother, they will be all right"—after that I wrote to Bradley—I wrote this letter to Tassie on 11th March. (Asking him to send coupons of the Argentine securities.)—I could not get any information—I was told this loan had been renewed; I objected to its being renewed; it was renewed against-objections from me—Tassie told me of the renewal—I received this letter from Tassie's clerk in answer to mine. (Stating that Tassie could not answer it till Bradley returned from Yorkshire; that Tassie might come to town next day and would call and see him, but there was no hurry about the coupons)—I met Tassie about 13th March, and he told me he had sold the coupons and could only get £16—I got the £16—on 1st May I received this letter from Tassie, 2, Teviot Terrace. (This stated that the Bradley matter re the Argentines and Uruguay bonds would be settled at three months' notice, Beaumont's matter re the Greek bonds at about two months, and the Brewery matter was still open, and might be settled at any time)—the Beaumont and Brewery matters referred to other transactions I had with Tassie, and had nothing to do with this case—I was continually writing and asking for the Argentine and Uruguay bonds back—I used to go and see Tassie about it, and he referred me to Bradley, and when I saw Bradley he referred me to Tassie—I very seldom found them in when I went—on May 12th I wrote this letter. (Stating that he understood the loan had been renewed in connection with the bonds for three months, and that if such was the case he should be glad of interest as before, but that he could not get any definite information as to their detention)—I got no answer to that—I often tried to see Bradley, but saw him very seldom—he said everything was all right—I wrote to Tassie again. (Stating that the bonds must be returned, and that he should take legal proceedings if they were not returned within ten days)—after that, and about July, 1891, I saw Bradley, and he said that he had given Tassie some money for me, and he said also that it was all right—he did not say what the money was for; it was after I had written to him about getting the money on the coupons, and after I got the £16—I then went to see Tassie, but did not get a penny from him—he referred me back to Bradley; he said, "Bradley
has made a mistake"—about this time I instructed my solicitors Wild and Wild—a writ was issued against Tassie on August 24th in which I claimed the return of certain bonds, including these Argentine and Uruguay and other bonds in the possession of Tassie which I had paid for and never got—I got nothing by the writ—about March, 1892, I had an interview with Bradley at Haxell's Hotel, Strand, when he offered me £15 as the interest which had been so long over-due on the coupons—he then signed this paper, at the bottom of which I wrote at the time in his presence, "Still detained," because I had not got the bonds back—I refused to take the money till he signed the paper, saying the bonds were still detained—after that Wild and Wild sent me a letter saying a receiving order had been issued against Tassie, and then the action against him was abandoned—I was very hard up at this time, and could not employ my solicitors any longer—I then made inquiries about these bonds; I went to Barings'—eventually I saw Mr. Elliott, Mr. Hart's managing clerk, in October, 1892, and for the first time discovered that these bonds had been sold by them to him on December 11th, 1890.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I never saw Bradley before I met him at Tassie's office—my memory of the conversation is rather imperfect—I believe I was told he was a solicitor, and that he made some mention of his father selling an estate in Yorkshire—I was never, to my knowledge, told that that property was mortgaged to Mr. Stourton—he said he was going to get £1,000 from his father when the sale was completed, and I think £1,000 from Mr. Stourton—I did not know that Mr. Stourton was interested in the sale of the property; I never saw Mr. Stourton, and don't know why he should be interested—he did say that a friend of his in Yorkshire, Mr. Stourton, wanted a loan for two or three months until the sale of his (Bradley's) father's estate was completed—I lent the bonds because Bradley said they were to be deposited at Mr. Stourton's bankers—I said before the Magistrate, "I understood the defendant Bradley to say that the bonds would be deposited at Stourton's bankers"—some risk must be run if you want to raise money, but that was not the intention here, because I wished the bonds to be deposited at the bankers as security—I did not see Mr. Stourton before I saw him here—I made no inquiries of him; I may have written to him once—I only saw Mr. Bradley, sen., once—he was a solicitor, I believe—I saw him at 4, Winchester Street, in March, 1892—I said his son had got bonds of mine which I wanted back—I never mentioned a warrant, or of prosecuting his son—I had no idea of such a thing—I did not say that I understood he (the father) was a man of means—I had heard it mentioned that he was—I went to see him because I saw his name on the door at 4, Winchester Street—after serving a writ on Tassie, I had to stop on account of want of funds.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. It was suggested to me that on account of the default of the Argentine Government it would be a bad thing for me to hold South American securities—I don't know if the bonds were dropping day by day; I never took the trouble to look—I did not give it up as hopeless—I thought they were quite safe—I daresay I knew they were dropping day by day—it was then that Tassie told me it would be a bad thing to hold South American securities; but I took no notice of it—I had known Tassie for some years, and had lived next door
but one to him—he wrote a letter to me about his children and other matters.
HENRY STOURTON . I accepted a bill which Tassie drew on 11th December, 1890, at three months, for £550—I saw both prisoners about that time—I had only known Tassie two or three days, or very shortly before—Bradley I had known, I think, since 1885 or 1886—he was a solicitor—I did not know that Tassie had any profession, or that he was an outside broker; I knew nothing about him—shortly before the 11th, when they were together, I think I heard conversation about, and at the same time I think I saw, some Uruguay bonds—it was in Tassie's office at 226, Piccadilly, that I first heard of them—I might have heard of them a day before—the prisoners proposed that I should deposit them with my bankers and obtain a loan upon them from my bankers—I said I did not care about doing that sort of thing, and I did not have anything to do with the bonds—at that time the bonds were held up to me—I did not examine them; I have no doubt that they were bonds—they were never in my possession; I never did receive them in order to deposit them with my bankers.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. I paid the bill at maturity—I knew Bradley's father, and had had transactions with him—his father lived at Acton Hall, near Pontefract, where he had a large estate, upon the mortgage of which I had lent £15,000—towards the end of the year steps were being taken to sell the property; the contract had been signed, and the sale was completed in the February of the following year—the property sold for £192,000, Mr. Bradley retaining the manor house, Acton Hall, to live in—it was pending the completion of the sale that I was in temporary want of money, that I communicated to Bradley, and so was introduced to Tassie.
Re-examined. I got the £15,000 that I had advanced, out of the proceeds of the sale, and that enabled me to pay off the bill.
WILLIAM HENRY HART . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, and carry on business at 24, Austin Friars—on December 11th, 1890, Tassie, whom I knew before, called on me with Bradley, whom I did not know before—at some previous time Tassie had been an outside broker—I am not sure if he was at that time—Tassie introduced Bradley as Mr. Frank Bradley, of Acton Hall, Normanton, Yorkshire, and said, "Mr. Bradley wants to sell some bonds"—they were mentioned as Bradley's bonds—I am not sure whether Tassie said they were Bradley's or whether Bradley said they were his own—I believed that statement—there were produced five Six per Cent Uruguay Bonds of the face value of £100 each, Nos. 8826, 15846, 22599, 22645, and 22598, and two Four and a Half per Cent. Argentine Bonds of the 1888 External Loan, of the face value of £500 each, Nos. 050952, 058953—they instructed me to sell them, and in consequence my manager put them on the market—the Uruguayan bonds, less my one-eighth commission, realised £288 2s. for cash—I found it impossible then to obtain a satisfactory price for the Argentines for cash, so I sold them for the next account—both the sales realised £846, less about £3 for charges; I think £843 18s.3d. was handed over—the proceeds of the sales were paid by cheques, one for £785 on December 11th, drawn to and endorsed by Frank Bradley, and the other for £15, drawn to Frank Bradley, and endorsed by both Frank
Bradley and Tasisie—those cheques have since been returned by my bankers as paid—the £15 cheque was handed back to me by Tassie in part payment of some money he owed me; it was practically an advance I made in anticipation of the sale—after the Argentines had been sold for the next account, oh 2nd January, a balance was owing on the sale of £43 18s.3d., and on that date I paid it by a bearer cheque for £43 18s.3d. made out to Frank Bradley—he wrote asking me to hand a bearer cheque to his clerk—that concluded the transaction.
Cross-examined by Mr. GILL. This was the first time I had seen Bradley.
JOHN HUDSON . I am a solicitor—in 1891 I was managing clerk to Messrs. Wild and Wild, solicitors, of St. Lawrence Lane, who had the conduct of Mr. Aitken's legal business—in July, 1891, I had instructions from Aitken, in consequence of which I went to the Criterion Restaurant, and there saw Tassie—I asked him why he had not returned Mr. Aitken's Uruguay and Argentine bonds—he told me Bradley had them—I inquired if Mr. Stourton had not them still; he said, "No; they were returned by him, and they were lent out again by Bradley"—I inquired, "Who has got them now?" and he said he did not know; I must go to Bradley—I said, "Will you see Bradley and get them?" and he said "Yes," he would; he would go and see him—I don't think I saw or heard anything of Tassie again—on August 24th, Wild and Wild issued this writ, claiming, among other things, the return of the Argentines—it was my doing issuing that only against Tassie.
Cross-examined by MR. GILL. The criminal proceedings were instituted by Messrs. Wild and Wild after I had left them—I am in practice for myself now—it was a private prosecution up to the committal.
JOHN WORTHEM . I am a clerk in the Bankruptcy Court—on 27th August, 1891, a receiving order was made against Tassie, followed by a petition and adjudication of 29th October, 1891—there was a petition against Bradley, followed by adjudication, on 5th June, 1889.
MR. GILL applied that the sentences might be postponed till next Session, upon the ground that in any aspect of the case some restitution ought to be made.— Judgment respited.
624. GUSTAV MEVES, Unlawfully conspiring with Frederick Sames and other persons to defraud shipowners by bribing the measuring clerks to return short measurements of cargo. Second Count, conspiring to incite such measuring clerks to make false entries in their employers books.
MR. COCK, Q. C., and MR. SORUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL and MR. A. GILL Defended.
Before plea, MR. C. F. GILL moved to quash the indictment, upon the grounds that there was no committal to justify it, that no leave had been obtained from the COURT to prefer it, and that it was bad because it was uncertain, embarrassing, and not specific. The committal by the Magistrate was for a specific, well-ascertained offence, namely, conspiracy with Frederick Sames to defraud Messrs. Anderson and Anderson and divers other persons by false pretences. The first Count, on the other hand, charged a conspiracy to defraud shipowners generally, which was not justified by the committal. The provisions of 30 and 31 Vic., c. 35,
entitling the prosecution to include in an indictment charges under the Vexatious Indictments Act, for which there was no committal, provided the evidence supporting them was disclosed in the depositions, only applied when there was a Count following, the committal. In this case the offence charged in the committal of conspiracy to defraud Anderson and Anderson was abandoned. The first Count, therefore, was bad. As to the second Count, it was apparently intended for a charge of conspiracy to commit an offence under the Falsification of Accounts Act, but was bad, as not containing the words of the statute "wilfully and with intent to defraud."
MR. A. GILL urged that where an indictment alleged injury to property it was necessary, if the names of the persons to whom the property belonged were known, to set out those names in the indictment. Throughout this indictment no names were given as those of the persons defrauded, although the names of Messrs. Anderson and Anderson appeared in the committal.
MR. COCK contended that a charge might be added to that named in the committal if these facts were disclosed in the depositions; and that in a charge of conspiracy it was not necessary to set out any overt acts or details as to facts which could be given in evidence. If the offence were imperfectly stated in the indictment the defendant, could apply for particulars, and an order made for the prosecution to supply them. Here the offence, the conspiracy, was amply alleged in the indictment. It was not necessary to add the words "with intent to defraud, "as it was sufficient to state "to make false entries." MR. SCRUTTON submitted that the gist of the offence being conspiracy, and not the overt acts, it was only necessary in the indictment to allege conspiracy; and it was not necessary to insert the name of any person to be defrauded.
MR. C. F. GILL having replied, the COMMON SERJEANT ruled that the indictment must be quashed. There having been a definite committal upon specific facts, and the prosecution having abandoned that, and substituted a general charge of conspiracy, the first Count was bad by reason of its vagueness, and because there was no committal to justify it; and the second Count could not be supported because it did not contain an allegation of intent to defraud.
OLD COURT.—Monday, July 3rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS and RICHARDSON Prosecuted.
AUSTIN HASTINGS . I am a shoemaker, of 89, Whitechapel Road—on. June 6th I was in the kitchen of the lodging-house, 1, Heneage Street, between twelve and one at night, sitting at the table with the prisoner and his brother Cornelius—Patrick was on the same side of the table as I was—there were a few others around that table—we were having supper, and all talking together—there was a bit of chaffing going on—I saw Patrick all at once reach over the table towards his brother Cornelius—he had this knife (which he was using for his supper) in his right hand—I saw him shoot it across (I could not say whether it left his hand or not), and the next I saw was a wound in Cornelius's neck—I said, "You are stabbed"—Cornelius suggested a doctor, and I went to try and find one
—we were all three three-parts drunk—when Patrick reached towards his brother he said, "There!"—there had been no quarrel.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not draw your attention to the blood that I am aware of.
JOHN SATCHELL . I am manager of the lodging-house at Heneage Street—on the night of June 5th the prisoner, the deceased, and Hastings were having supper in the kitchen—I was in the office—I did not see what was going on—Hastings came and made a statement to me, and I went for a constable—the prisoner was then cuddling his brother round the neck and saying, "Oh, my brother!"—I found this knife lying on the table with blood stains on it—prisoner, deceased, and Hastings were not sober.
CHARLES HILL (86 H). On 6th June I was called at 12. 45 to 1, Heneage Street—I saw the deceased sitting on a stool in the kitchen with his back to the table; the prisoner was sitting about three and a half yards away—the deceased appeared to be very weak—I saw blood coming from a wound on the left side of his neck—I took the prisoner into custody for stabbing his brother and handed him over to another constable—he made no reply then—there was blood on the prisoner's right hand.
RICHARD TEAL (288 H). On 6th June I received the prisoner from the last witness—on the way to the station he stated that they were both having supper, and also said, "I know I done it, and I am very sorry for it"—he was under the influence of drink.
HARRY GLBSON (56 H). I was on duty at Commercial Street Police-station when the prisoner was brought in—I went to 1, Heneage Street, and got this knife from Satchell—when I came back to the station the prisoner said, "We are both brothers; we have been soldiers together; we have worked together; we both walked from Wales to London, and then such a thing as this should happen; I never meant to do him any harm."
WILLIAM NOTLEY (Inspector H). I served on the prisoner this copy of a notice of the Magistrate's intention to take the deposition of the deceased—after that I took the prisoner to the London Hospital, and he was present when the deceased made a statement in the presence of Mr. Rose, the Magistrate.
ALBERT CHARLES ELESMORE . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was admitted at one o'clock on the 6th June, suffering from a wound on the left side of his neck—it descended obliquely towards the middle line of the neck, getting deeper—it was about two inches long; its greatest depth near the middle line of the neck, was one or one and a half inch—it partially severed windpipe and gullet—it was not in itself the cause of death, but it gave rise to a condition of the heart which brought about death—but for the wound the man would not have died—he died at three o'clock on the afternoon of the same day—this knife would have caused the wound; I should say it was not heavy enough to cause it if thrown; it must have been a stab.
The dying declaration of the deceased was read as follows:—"The prisoner is my brother. Last night, I don't know what time, I was indoors. My brother flung a knife at me; it hit me in the throat. I was only codding him; he must have got angry with me and he flung the knife. I don't
remember any more. Be lenient to him. I don't think he intended doing me any harm; still he is in fault."
By the prisoner. I don't think you did it wilfully.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that they were having supper, and the deceased grumbled that the meat and potatoes were bad, and that he (the prisoner) lost his temper, got up, and flung down his knife, and turned to go away, when he was told his brother was bleeding from the neck; that he then ran round the table and tried to stop the bleeding, and so got blood on his hand He declared that he did not intend to do him any harm when he flung down the knife, and they were always the best of friends.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Two Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, July 3rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
R. K. BENHAM— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude. A. B. BENHAM— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 5th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MR. HUTTOH Prosecuted.
GUILTY — Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
For the case of Charles Thew, tried in the Old Court, Tuesday, July 4th, see Surrey Cases.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
HALEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
THOMAS WILSON . I am a blacksmith's assistant, and live at 50, Malmsbury Terrace, Leyton Road—on Wednesday, 24th May, about six, I and my wife, Louisa Wilson, went out; she was then in good health—we went to the house of her brother, James Foster; he was not at home—we remained there some time, and then left with Mrs. Foster, and found him at the Royal Albert in North Woolwich Road; we stayed there until closing time, about ten minutes to eleven, and went to Silvertown
Station—we there found a friend of Foster's with a pony and cart, and he offered us a drive to Woolwich—we all got into the cart, and drove to North Woolwich, to the Royal Pavilion Hotel—we got there about twenty minutes past eleven; they keep open till twelve—we there met Lishman, and talked to him; I then went into the garden, and when I came Back I saw my wife and Mrs. Foster sitting on a seat under the verandah of the hotel my wife had made a complaint to me before that)—I saw Haley standing there with his foot on the seat—I spoke to him, and he struck at me, and I struck back at him, and hit him on the nose—a constable came up and removed me—them my wife, Mr. and Mrs. Foster, and Lishman took the train to Silvertown; we all got out there, and were walking home; we turned down Gray Street; there is a foreign club there; I believed Foster knocked at the door; we did not get in—we then went up Gray Street, and had got a few yards round the corner when three men came from under a dark fence—I recognised the one I had been fighting with, Haley, Ingram, and Burley—one of them, I don't know Which, said, "There are three of you and three of us; now we are for it"—Haley came first he came at me, and went past me, and knocked Lishman down—I turned round for Haley after he had struck at me, and Ingram came behind me and struck me in the mouth; it made my lip swell up—I turned round to face him, to fight with him—in the struggle he was evidently trying to throw me down on the pavement; he had me round the neck, and Haley came and caught hold of my legs—with that my wife came towards us, and said, What! two of you on him?" and she went towards the middle of the road; I and Ingram and Haley all went down together; Ingram jumped up and gave me two or three punches in the face, and then went deliberately my wife, struck her over the right temple, and Knocked her down insensible—the police came, and an ambulance was got, and she was taken to the London Hospital, and she died on the 27th—I was sober on this night; Foster was not the worse for drink; we had been enjoying ourselves, but not drinking to excess.
Cross-examined. I had been taking holiday on that day, and been at home in bed; I went out about half-past six—I had nothing to drink at home, except with my dinner—I can't say how many drinks we had during the day—we had no particular reason to hurry home—my wife was not joining in any scrimmage in Gray Street; Haley did not swing round and send her down; Ingram was the only man that struck her, and at that time I was on the ground struggling with Haley five or six yards away; there was no screaming then; Mrs. Foster screamed when the men first rushed out.
JAMES FOSTER . I am an engineer's labourer, and live at 1, Candy Road, Custom House—Louisa Wilson was my sister—on the night of 24th May she and her husband and my wife met me at the Royal Albert—after going to the Pavilion and other places, we got into Gray Street—after walking fifteen or sixteen yards, three men sprang out from a dark fence—one of them said, "There's three of you and three of us; now we are for it"—I got knocked down by Burley—I got up only to be knocked down again—when I got up my sister was on the ground, and the men had got away.
when we were in Gray Street, three men came up; one of them said, "There are three of you and three of us"—I recognise Haley and Ingram as two of the men—I did not see the blow, but I saw Lishman when he was down—I went to him—Mrs. Wilson was in the middle of the road—once or twice she was near her husband, but when the men were fighting she was moving away—I went for a constable, and when I came back she was lying on the ground.
Cross-examined. When I went for a policeman I left Wilson fighting with Haley—she was not for from her husband then—she was standing alongside of him—that was the first I saw of her.
JOHN LISHMAN . I am a turner, and live at 42, Agnes Street, Canning Town—on the night of May 24th I was with the Fosters and Wilsons when three men came out and said, "There are three of us and three of you"—I received a blow in the face and was knocked into the road—I got on my feet, and saw Haley and Ingram attacking Wilson—I did not see Mrs. Wilson do anything—I saw her near them, near her husband—I heard her speak, but not what she said—I saw her come away from them—Ingram rushed towards her and knocked her down—he struck her with his left fist on or near the right eye—she fell on her back and became unconscious—Wilson then came up and charged Ingram with assaulting her.
Cross-examined. I was standing seven or eight feet from her—I had not been fighting with anybody—I was hurt in the face—I did not go to assist Wilson, it was done so suddenly, and I was not prepared for a thing of that sort—I had been struck by Haley and knocked down—I had to pull myself together, my face was bleeding, and I had my handkerchief to my nose—Mrs. Wilson did not rush towards them—I have never said that she did—I did not meet the other parties till half-past eleven—I had been in bed from about five to half-past ten, and then I got up and went for a walk—I was perfectly sober.
DESMOND SHADDOCK (258 K)At twelve o'clock on the night of the 24th or morning of the 25th of May, I was in Connaught Road, Silvertown—I saw three men and two women turn out of Gray Street, walking towards Custom House—I was standing still—my attention was attracted by hearing women screaming, and I saw a scrimmage in the road, and about eight persons together—I was about fifty or sixty yards from them—I ran up to them, and by the time I got there I saw Mrs. Wilson on the ground on her back—I saw her in the act of falling—I could not see who it was that struck her—I looked at her and saw that her face was very much bruised; she was unconscious—there was a mark under the eye it was then turning black—Ingram and Haley were standing four or five yards away from her—I inquired; "Who has done this?"—Wilson, pointing to Ingram, said, "That is the man that struck my wife"—Ingram said, "I know nothing about it"—Haley said nothing—I whistled for assistance, got an ambulance, and she was put on—Ingram appeared to be sober; Wilson appeared to have been drinking, and so did Haley.
Cross-examined. I heard women's screams when I was fifty yards away—Mrs. Foster was running towards me—I did not hear screams before I saw her—I ran towards the scrimmage—Mrs. Wilson fell just before I arrived—I was about five yards away—she appeared to be mixed up with
the scrimmage—I did not see her do anything, but they all appeared to be mixed up together—Lishman was partly recovering when I arrived.
WILLIAM REYNOLDS (Sergeant 67 K). I took the charge against the prisoners—Haley said, "I done it; I pushed her and she fell down"—Ingram said, "I know nothing about it; if he (Haley) likes to speak up he can clear me, he knows how it was dome"—afterwards, the woman having died, they were charged with manslaughter—Ingram then made this statement to me, which I took down:—"We came up from North Woolwich with Haley to see him towards home as he had a cut on the nose, and just as we got by Gray Street we heard someone singing behind us, and on turning round Haley said, 'Here they come,' and directly after Wilson came up, and He and Haley began fighting; I went to try and get Haley away, when the woman caught hold of Haley's arm and he pushed her back, and she fell in the roadway it was done with the backhand; I did not strike her at all."
Cross-examined. Haley was present; he made no reply, he simply assented with a nod of the head.
EDWARD CHICHESTER . I am house surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was brought there on 25th May—I saw her at nine a. m.—she was unconscious, I examined her—she had a black eye, and a small bruise above it on the same side—she died on the 27th—I made a postmortem on the 29th—death was caused by fracture of the skull, from a blow or fall.
The prisoners 'received good characters.
INGRAM, NOT GUILTY .
HALEY, Eight Months' Hard Labour.
SAMUEL TRELIVING . I am the yard master at the West Ham Union Workhouse—on May 20th the prisoner was an inmate, and between four and five he was at work in the wood-shed, which is seventeen or twenty yards long, and about five yards wide—at the top end were about three tons of picked oakum—a very few minutes after five p. m. I discovered the oakum at the top of the shed was on fire—the greater part of the top of the shed was burnt, and the oakum was very much destroyed—at the back of the shed are working-class dwelling-houses, and the people began to shift their goods when the fire was burning—I was present at the West Ham Petty Sessions on May 23rd, and in consequence of a statement made by the warrant officer there, I searched for the nozzle of the Union hose on the 24th, and found it under a stack of wood—I should think it had been cut off by a sharp knife—it is cut very straight.
ELIAS CUDDEN (Sergeant K). I am warrant officer of the West Ham Petty Sessions—on 23rd May I was present at the sessions, when the prisoner was charged with refractory conduct at West Ham Union—in consequence of a statement made to me I went and saw him—he said he wished to make a statement—I took him to the Police-office and cautioned him, and he made this statement, which I took down, read over to hint, and he signed; "At about five p. m. I was alone in the wood-shed,
and I took a match and set alight to some oakum at the bottom of the shed, and I also cut the brass end of the fire-hose off and placed it under a stack of wood in the same shed"—Mr. Hall, the assistant master, was present—on the next day I found the nozzle under a stack of wood in the shed mentioned.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated he set fire to it, but that he did not intend to injure anybody, or to take any life; that he thought as he had got locked up for nothing he would do something to get locked up for.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BODKIN and GILL Prosecuted.
— NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRAIN and MR. MUIR Prosecuted; MR. OGLE appeared for Billington; and MR. DRAKE for Ratcliffe and Pyne.
LUCY MARIA EASTWOOD . I live at 55, Downs Park, West Hackney, and am companion to Miss Mills—on May 11th I packed a number of articles in a gladstone bag, strapped it, locked it, and retained the key—Miss Mills addressed it for me on a leather label like this: "Eastwood, 203, Spring Road, Ipswich, Suffolk"—it was left for Pickfords to fetch—this pair of spectacles was in a dark case, the other pair in a red case; this silk apron, skirt, bodice, and a number of other articles were in it.
Cross-examined by MR. OGLE. I had never worn this dress body; I had worn the skirt a few times—this is my apron; I have a piece of trimming like it in my bag; I made it myself; this is a piece of the same lace.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I have had these spectacles eighteen months—those in the red case are for reading, and those in the black case for walking—they will not fit anybody but me—they were specially made for me—there is no mark on the cases.
Re-examined. I did not make this bodice, but I put the trimming on—these are my spectacles. (Trying them.)
Cross-examined by MR. OGLE. It was addressed to Ipswich—I cannot recollect the rest—I collected, I think, thirteen bags.
WILLIAM PALMER . I was a carman at Pickfords, City Basin, in May last—on 11th May I took a gladstone bag from there to the Great Eastern Railway Depot, Bishopsgate—I left both these sheets—one goes to Pick-fords' office, and one to the railway.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. There are about twenty loaders; they assist me—one man, Green, assisted me from six till twelve, and seven or eight others were working about—all the men working had access to that particular spot.
ARTHUR FROST . I am a locomotive inspector on the Great Eastern Railway—I produce the time-book—Billington was an engine—driver in the company's employ, and Pyne a fireman working on the same engine—on May 11th they went on duty at 9. 50 p. m., and remained on duty till May 12th—they were employed on the shunting engine.
ALLEN DAVIS . I am a railway goods inspector of the Great Eastern Railway—I know Ratcliffe, he is a pointsman—on 11th May he came on duty at 6 p. m., and remained till 6 a. m. on the 12th at Bishopsgate Goods Yard—four men are employed there shunting—the Bishopsgate shunting engine works there, and there is another shunting engine in the same yard—the trucks are arranged in particular order—during all that time the pointsman and shunters would have access to the trucks—a box truck has a roof and doors; you can open it and take it to pieces.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. TWO pointsmen were employed, one on each side of the yard—I cannot tell on which side Ratcliffe was; they go one fortnight on one aide, and another fortnight on the other—the inspector's duty is to see. that they are in their places; it is some little distance—Ratcliffe would be moved about to other yards—there would be six shunters and pointsmen; thirty or forty men would have an opportunity of access.
Re-examined. The pointsmen do not stay in the box, they go on with the engine to the next point—between 6 p. m. and 6 a. m. he had two hours for refreshments, and could go when he liked.
WILLIAM CALAN . I am a checker at Ipswich—I keep a book in which I make a record; on 12th May I unloaded two trucks, one of which was 14,176 and the other 15,680; they were for Pickfords; I manage the goods there—I did not find a gladstone bag addressed to Eastwood, Ipswich—I made a report.
WILLIAM EUSTACE (Policeman K). I am stationed at West Ham—on 3rd June I went to Pyne's house with Sergeant Forth and other officers—I said, "We are police officers," and he took us to the tin box where we found this pair of spectacles in a red case, an eyeglass, two pairs of gloves, a pair of corsets, and a number of articles which Forth has a list of—Pyne said, "They all come from Bishopsgate."
FORTH (Police Sergeant). I produce a list of the goods found at Pyne's house—they are two pairs of eyeglasses, a pair of
corsets, a table cover, a knitted jacket, three purses, empty, three dozen boot laces, two bottles of hollands, and other articles—Inspector Foster, of the railway police, made a list of them, and I selected the articles.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Three of us went to Pyne's house—I was dressed as I am now—he did not know me, to my knowledge—I said, "We are police officers; I hold a warrant to search your premises"—I asked his name first—I don't remember asking what he worked at, or his replying that he came from Bishopsgate Station—all these articles were found in a tin box in a room, about four feet inside the door; it was not open—he lifted the lid up—he lives at home with his people—his mother was there—I believe he is her main support.
JAMES WILLIAM FOSTER (Inspector G. E. R.). On 3rd June I was present when Ratcliffe's lodging was searched—he occupied one room—I first saw these spectacles in the black case, found in his presence—other articles were then found, and I made this list of them—there was one pocket-handkerchief marked "D. C. T.," a pair of pants, six white handkerchiefs, sixty-one cigars in a box, two braces, a parcel of tobacco, loose, a pair of spectacles and case, four briar pipes, two yards and a half of Irish brown frieze, an old violin, six pain, of kid driving gloves, all new—Ratcliffe saw me find them; he said nothing—I asked him if the white handkerchief marked "D, C. T." bore his initials—he said, "No"—I was present at the search of Billington's house, 31, Dunstan Road, Stratford, the same day, with the other officers—he has a wife—we found there this skirt, apron, and bodice, a piece of flannelette, ten yards of ditto, one piece of red and white striped flannelette, thirty yards of black cloth serge, one roll of ditto, fifty-two yards of dress material, five yards of towelling, two yards and a half of trousering, ten yards of black diagonal, forty yards of muslin, a box, and a large quantity of other articles—a large number of them correspond with a list I took with me—they were all in boxes, some under the bed, and some of the flannelette was between the mattress and under the mattress in the room—he made no observation, but his wife did—Billington earned 5s.6d. a day on an average, working six days a week; Pyne earned 3s.6d. a day six days a week; and Ratcliffe a guinea a week.
The prisoners having stated that they desired to withdraw their plea and to
PLEAD GUILTY, the JURY found them
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
632. WALTER HENRY MILLER (25) and FREDERICK ELMEY (22) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing fourteen pieces of silk tapestry, value £17 9s.3d., of the Great Eastern Railway Company. They received good characters.— Judgment respited. And
(633). WILLIAM BIRCHAM (30) to stealing fifty-eight pairs of boots and fifty-eight pairs of shoes, the property of the Great Eastern Railway Company.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
DR. GILBERT. The prisoner is fit to plead, as he is of sufficient intelligence to understand what is going on, but he is insane.
EDWARD ROBINS . I live at Richmond Road, West Ham, and am a rate collector—on 16th June I was walking in the Commercial Road at half-past two—the prisoner was passing me, going in the opposite direction—I had never seen him before—he struck me in the hand with a knife—I turned to catch him, he ran away—a second man was stabbed trying to catch him.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, but insane at the time lie committed the act. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. HUTTON and ROOTH Prosecuted, and MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Defended.
ALICE EDMUNDS . I am single—I now live at the Mitre Hotel, Fish Street Hill—I had a son named Frederick Edmunds, he was born on January 23rd, 1890—I know the prisoner—in August last year I placed my child with her—she lived at 50, James Street, Deptford—she let two rooms—I had stayed there—I was to pay her 6s. a week for the child; I found clothes for it—it was in very good condition when I left it with her, very fat—I went to see it once a fortnight, but did not always see it—this (Produced) is a photograph of him it was taken twelve months ago last Whit Monday—that was about three or four months before he went to the prisoner—he was like that in August, as well and as fat—during August, September, and October I went to see him every fortnight—I noticed that he was getting much thinner—I said so to the prisoner—she said perhaps he was consumptive—he was not very clean; she always put that down to his playing about in the dirt—in November I was out of a situation, and went and stayed for ten days in the prisoner's house—I then owed her two weeks' money—on the 25th I went to a situation, and on the 14th January I returned to see the child—I did not see it between those dates—I noticed then that it was very thin, and looked very bad—it had a bruise on the cheek—I spoke to her about it; I said he looked very thin and ill, and I should take it to a doctor, and she said she would do go—I asked her how the bruise came; she said he was always falling about—I said I wanted to take him away; I wanted him done better for than she was doing—she said, "My husband will not allow you to take him away until you have paid the money you owe"—I had not paid anything between November and January; I was not able to; I was out of a situation; I owed her £3—I went again a fortnight later; he was quite as thin, and all out in sores; he had a black eye, and several of
its teeth were missing—I asked her how he came by the black eye—she said he had fallen downstairs—I asked why his teeth were out—she said he must be shedding his teeth—I said that was quite impossible—I told her twice to take him to a doctor—she said she had done so—I did not give her the money, but she put down 6s. in the bill for the doctor; that was since Christmas, I think—I went again to see the child between January 7th and March 4th, but I am not sure whether I saw it—on the 20th March I went again—the child was then sitting in a chair, in a dreadful condition: he was all in sores, and its mouth ulcerated, and it was very dirty—I told her I should go to the doctor—she began crying, and said it was a great shame—I went to Dr. Hawkesworth, and returned and told her he would be there a little after ten, as he could not call before—I waited to see the doctor, but could not, as I had to get a train to my situation—on the 24th I went again, and took the child away to the infirmary at Greenwich; it was very ill—I told the prisoner I really could not afford 6s. a week; I paid her 5s., and she said, Very well, with the extra shilling she would get it some clothes—I got some boots for it, but he did not wear them; her baby did—she said they were too small for him—I noticed a change in the child's manner; it was very much frightened of me—I first noticed that in January, and it increased—the prisoner had seven children of her own; they never looked very clean; they were not so dirty as my child—they were fairly well dressed.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Frampton had charge of the child before the prisoner—I took it away from her—she did not give it up because I was unable to pay her—there had been a grievance about some money with her and the prisoner—I owed Mrs. Frampton about £1 15s.—when it went to the prisoner in August it had no change of clothes—I did not supply any more clothes until the end of November—I saw nothing to complain of up till Christmas, except it was getting very thin—from what I saw during the ten days I stayed there the child had plenty to eat—I was not there all day, I was there on Sundays—the prisoner's husband dined there on Sundays; the child dined with them, and was fed as the other children were—during the fortnight I was there I never saw any ill-usage of the child—I did not notice that the teeth were missing till 28th January—she said Dr. Hawkesworth said it had consumptive bowels—she did not tell me she had taken it to a doctor in August, but that she had a doctor to it then, and again in January—the teeth were not missing in November; I am perfectly sure of that—I did not wash the child myself, because she did not care for me interfering with it.
ANN BYRNE . I am a widow, and now live at 8, Chapel Place, Greenwich—I formerly lived at 57, James Street, Deptford, next door to the prisoner—when I went there the deceased child was under the care of Mrs. Frampton; that was after last Easter twelvemonth—I first observed the child some few weeks after last Whitsun twelvemonth—the prisoner then had the care of it; it was taken away from Mrs. Frampton, she was a lodger in the house; it was then a fine plump child, one that anyone would be fond of—I did not speak much to the people; we were not neighbours; we kept to ourselves—the child was handed over to the prisoner prior to Whitsun twelvemonth—I know that she ill-used it; it was starved and cruelly neglected—some few weeks alter she had it I saw a great alteration in it, it was so thin and dirty—it did not run about
as it used to—things got worse, it looked as if it wanted more care and attention; it got more dirty and thin—I never saw it beaten; I heard it—I heard it crying, and heard the prisoner's voice, and smacks, and telling it to leave off crying—that was on lots of occasions, early morning and very late at night—I saw it with two black eyes; that was before Christmas last—I asked the prisoner how it came by that, and she said it had fallen downstairs—I heard her beating the child a few days before it had the black eyes—the child's manner altered in the last; whenever I spoke to it it was very frightened of me—that had not been so under Mrs. Frampton—I did not mention that to the prisoner—I told her she should take it to a doctor, and she said she had done so—I saw the child the day it was taken to the infirmary; I assisted in taking it there—I undressed it; it was in a dreadful condition, so thin and dirty, I could not hold it—the head was very dirty; there were vermin on it—the prisoner's own children were in very good condition—this child never looked clean; it never looked as if it had a bath.
Cross-examined. I did not know that it was suffering from consumptive bowels—I have heard that since—from its appearance I was quite sure it had been frightened by ill-treatment—I distinctly heard the prisoner's voice when I heard the beating; I could not hear what she said—I could hear it beaten sometimes in the daytime; sometimes it would be put to bed at four o'clock—I know Mr. French; I believe he is a shipwright; I believe he is a very respectable man—I never spoke to him about this; he used to be at home at night—I think it was about February that she said she had taken it to a doctor—at first it used to run about in the yard and play with the other children—I never saw her beat it.
ELIZA MIALL . I am the wife of Frederick Miall, of 40, Edale Road, Rotherhithe—I was formerly a lodger of the prisoner's at 50, James Street; my husband took the apartments in the middle of August—I was at Holloway at the time; I had been in prison there for an assault—I went home on Tuesday, the 30th August; I then saw the child Edmunds; it was under the prisoner's care—it was then in a very nice condition—he was a fine little fellow; he looked all right, strong and healthy and stout—he ran about, and used to play along with my two little boys out in the yard occasionally—I was there just on four months; I moved from there about three weeks before Christmas Day—about four days after I came home from gaol I heard the child moaning and crying very much about six in the morning; the prisoner had got it shut up in the cupboard in her bedroom—I did not knock; I burst open her door, and saw it shut up in the cupboard—the prisoner had got her hand outside the cupboard, holding the door—I asked her what she meant by shutting the child up in the cupboard and ill-using it—she said he had messed his bed, and she was trying to correct him—I had heard it crying for a good ten minutes—she let it out of the cupboard, and I returned to my bedroom; the child was sobbing, and looked very frightened—I heard no more that day—after that I went into the country for about fourteen days, hopping; I came home about the end of September, about the 19th, I think—I then noticed a great alteration in the child, it seemed quite ill; it had got thin and very dirty—I said to the prisoner, "Don't this child look bad?"—she said, "Yes, he has had the measles since you have been away"—about three days after I returned I went into the yard and heard him screaming
in the washhouse—I went in, I wanted to save the blow, but I could not; she hit the child across the mouth with the copper-stick—it is a stick in the shape of a rolling-pin, a good-sized stick; I think Mr. French made it; it is made of wood—as the result of the blow the child fell at my feet bleeding from the mouth; I went to hit the prisoner to protect the child; I said if I could get hold of her I would hit her, but she made her escape—I told her she ought to be ashamed of herself to beat the little child like that; she had better kill it right off at once—I noticed that its teeth were missing from its mouth; I could not say that that was from the blow—I went to answer a knock at the street door, and when I came back the child had gone into the kitchen, and the prisoner was bathing his mouth with cold water in a bowl—those were the only two occasions on which I saw her beat the child, but I have heard it crying, and have called out to the prisoner about it—I complained of her ill-using it so early in the morning, we could not get any sleep; it was in the next room to mine—after that it was moved—I have seen him in his bed; it was made up on a box with a piece of coal-sacking—he very seldom had a sheet; when he had it was very dirty—I have sent in food to the child, sometimes bread and butter and a drop of tea—I did not take them myself; I used to send my little boy George, eleven years old—I have seen the child in the washhouse, sitting on a little chamber, sometimes for an hour—I saw that on two or three occasions—he was not crying, he did not say anything; he had on a little brown coat, no other clothing, no socks or shoes—I have not seen the prisoner's children placed there—in consequence of what I saw I spoke to the child's mother, not to anyone else.
Cross-examined. I had a good many quarrels with the prisoner over the child—we were good friends; we might have been sulky for a time, but we left good friends when I left the house—Mr. French gave my husband notice to leave because we could not pay the rent, as my husband was out of employ—I am not sure about dates—I have had a lot of trouble since I left Mrs. French, and have buried three of my children—it was three or four days before I went hopping that I saw the child in the cupboard—I did not say for certain that it was on 4th September; I think I came home on the 19th—I have not said that it was eight days after the 4th September that I saw the child in the washhouse; I said my little boy was in the hospital eight days—I thought the blow was a very serious matter; it was an intentional hard blow with a heavy stick—I had occasion to speak to two policemen a few days afterwards; I did not mention about the copper-stick to them, nor to anyone, except my husband—I never saw the child have any meals—I have seen him with a bit of dry bread in his hand, that is all—I told Mr. French how the child had been served; that was one Saturday night after I came from hopping, I can't tell the date.
JAMES CHOWN . I am an officer of the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children—I live at 90, London Street, Greenwich—on 20th March last I called at 50, James Street, Deptford, in consequence of a complaint received—I saw the prisoner there with her children—I told her who I was, and that I had come to see a nurse child named Frederick Cox, which I afterwards found was Edmunds—she took me into the kitchen; I there saw a child lying on a couch—as she went
towards it the child cringed and seemed frightened—it had on a frock and petticoat, which was very dirty and greasy—the frock covered the entire body, and the petticoat was below it; it had no shoes or boots on—I noticed that the ankles were rather swollen—the face was covered with sores, and the head and body had vermin on it—the skin was of a copper colour, very brown and dry—I said to the prisoner, "How is it that the child is in this condition?"—she said it had been playing all the day in the garden—I said, "It is not garden dirt, it appears not to have been washed for days; have you had a doctor to see it It is very ill"—she said, "I had one in January last"—I said, "How is it you have not had one since?"—she said, "The mother owes me £4 12s.; I have done the best I could"—she stated that the child was in good condition when she received it in August, but two or three days after she had it it had diarrhoea—her own children were fairly clad, clean, and in good condition—they looked very well indeed—I did not see the beds—I went for Dr. Semple; he returned with me—he found that the child had been washed during my absence—I did not take the child away—I did not see it again till it was dead—this is a photograph of it, as I saw it in the mortuary—I was present when it was taken by the Greenwich Photographic Company, after the post-mortem examination.
Cross-examined. I told her who I was before I asked to see the child—she showed it to me at once—I heard her tell the doctor that it had had the measles soon after she had it, and it had gone back.
JAMES ROBERT SEMPLE . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 23, Douglas Street, Deptford—on 20th March the last witness called on me, and I went with him to 50, James Street—the child Frederick Edmunds was brought from the back part of the house to the front room, and I examined it—it was well clad—it had on a coat and waistcoat, and I thought it was very well clad as a rule—the prisoner took off the coat, waistcoat, and a shirt—they were all clean, as far as I could see—it looked as if it had been recently clothed—it looked as if it had been freshly washed—it was quite rosy as regards its cheeks, and the coat looked as if it had just been placed there and had not been adjusted—its body was very emaciated and thin—the head had a scaly eruption on it, on the side, and down to the ear, the result of eczema; that might be due to various causes, improper food, damp, want of sunlight and fresh air and good clothing, anything that would depress' the venera of the child—the lips were dry and cracked, the tongue was inflamed and sore, and the breath foetid—those were symptoms of great irritation of the stomach and bowels; that would be consistent with diarrhoea—I should say the child was very ill, as the result of what I have stated—the gums were firm and strong, the teeth were deficient—the age of the child would be against a natural shedding of the teeth; I could not say it was from a blow—the right arm was swollen and red, I could not say from what—the feet were also swollen—I examined the anus; the lower bowel was protruding, and the bowels were red, inflamed and ulcerated—the child was weighed in my presence—the average weight of a child of three years would be about 30 or 40 lb.—I attribute the condition of the child to prolonged irritation of the stomach and bowels, produced by the food not being of a nature for the child's power to assimilate—I could not say how long that had been going on—I asked the prisoner when she had had a
doctor last—she said about Christmas time—I asked why she had not had a doctor since then—she said she could not afford it.
Cross-examined. The child was extremely ill; it died on 22nd April—eczema may came from a great many causes, besides neglect; many children well looked after have it—dry lips show that the internal organs are heated—two teeth were missing—I did not find the slightest sign of recent injury to the gums—the absence of teeth would be consistent, either with a blow or a fall; protruding bowel would be consistent with anything that would relax the child's health—its appearance gave me the impression that it had been suffering from chronic diarrhoea, but I saw nothing of it; its condition was quite compatible with it—if that existed for a considerable time it would weaken the child very greatly, and make it less able to walk and run about—I could not say whether that would bring on rickets—a child will not assimilate insufficient food or improper food; the effect from either would be the same—the child being weak would make it more difficult to keep it clean.
Re-examined. Its condition would be aggravated by want of cleanliness.
WILLIAM JOHN CHARLES KEATS . I am junior resident medical attendant at the Greenwich Union Infirmary—the child Edmunds was brought there by the mother and Mrs. Byrne on 24th March as an urgent case—it was very ill indeed; it was suffering from acute bronchitis—that would be from the effects of cold—I cannot recollect whether it was wrapped in a blanket or anything light—its body was very dirty; it had many vermin on it; there were many sores and scratches on the body—the head had a great quantity of vermin and nits—the body was covered with them—the lips were ulcerated—the tongue cracked and brown—there was a red swelling on the right arm, a swelling of both feet—it was very much wasted, and was very dangerously ill—three teeth were missing, the right upper central and two lower; it weighed 181b. 2 ox.—that would be about 8 lb. short of the right weight, after making all allowance—I did not observe the bowels; they were not protruding on admission—it did not appear to be suffering from any bowel complaint at the time—the child was admitted at once, and remained till it died; it was under my care a month—at first it slightly improved, then got gradually worse, and died on 22nd April—I made a post-mortem—the body was very much wasted, it contained very little fat; it weighed 16 lb. 6 oz.—the skin was of a waxy colour, the legs also; there was a small sore on the right parietal bone of the head, and two small sores on the right wrist—the hair had been cut close—there were two small ulcers on the lower lips—the two central incisors and the right upper central incisor were missing—the brain substance was normal—the bowels were perfectly normal but enaemic; that would be due to the illness and weak condition of the child; it was suffering from rickets; that is a constitutional disease, due to a deficiency of the natural salts of the bones—the condition of the child showed that it had been neglected, and the food had not been of a proper character.
Cross-examined. I have been in Court and heard Dr. Semple's evidence—I do not agree with the cause he has given; I do not agree that the child had eczema—I think it had chronic diarrhoea after its admission; a day or two after, at all events—consumptive bowels is commonly termed rickets—no solid food was given it in the hospital—it was too ill to
assimilate the food given to it—vermin would not be more likely to come to a child in a delicate state, not if it was kept clean—it is not more difficult to keep a weak child clean than a healthy one.
Re-examined. Vermin are the result of dirt—when the child was in the infirmary I observed that it was frightened when I or the nurse approached it; that was not the result of weakness; I differ from Dr. Semple as to that—I have seen a great many children, and I have a great many under my care, and I have never seen one so frightened as this one.
By the COURT. This child died of acute tuberculosis, following the bronchitis—its condition would be greatly aggravated by neglect or illtreatment.
Cross-examined. She has always borne a very respectable character.
EDWARD T. HAWK ESWORTH . I am a medical man practising at 249B, Evelyn Street, Deptford—I do not remember the prisoner bringing a child to me in August last year, or at all—I cannot say whether my assistant saw it—I did not go and see it at her house—a child was brought to me on 2nd January this year from 50, James Street—the name was given to me as Frederick Edwards; I do not know who brought it, it was a woman—I can't say it was the prisoner—I have no recollection—it had a bruise on its forehead, and I was told that it had diarrhoea; I do not know whether it had or not—I don't think I saw the same child again on the 4th January; I think medicine was given for it—I prescribed similar medicine for it on the 4th January.
Evidence for the Defence.
ELIAZABETH JANE FRENCH (the prisoner). My husband, Alfred French, and I live together at 50, James Street—I had this little boy Frederick Edmunds to take care of in August—he became ill with measles within two or three days after I had him—he had diarrhoea very bad before I had him, and after I took him—he got better from the measles, but he was always very poorly and hanging about, he never seemed to be lively after it—I can't exactly ray how many days the diarrhoea lasted, but I had him some time with it—I remember his falling downstairs; that was shortly after Christmas—it was a very foggy afternoon—it was before the New Year—when he fell he hurt his mouth and his legs; he hurt his lip; it knocked against his teeth—he was very weak on his legs—I took him to see Dr. Hawkesworth on Monday morning in the new year—I can't exactly say how many times I took him to Dr. Hawkesworth—I know I went two or three times—my next-door neighbour, Mrs. Arnold, persuaded me to take him—it is not true that I hit the child with a stick, not at any time—I had seven children living at home—this child had his meals along with my children in the week—on Sunday the children generally had theirs when I and my husband and my big daughter had finished—this child had the same food that my children had—they all shared alike—on the 20th March, when the inspector came, my little boy, Charles, was ill—he had been very ill for some time, but not to lay up—he was ill for three weeks after the inspector came—my little girl, eight years old, was also very poorly—I gave the deceased some port wine—I used to get twopenny worth of a morning and give him a drop in a tea-spoon
—I did that several days—no one asked me to do it; but one evening it did not seem well, and the mother sent and got him a drop, and of course I did the same—as long as he was well enough I used to let him play with my children in the yard—Dr. Hawkesworth told me to give him plenty of bread and milk, which I did—I used to get half-a-pint of milk in the morning, and between one and two a little more, and sometimes some mutton broth—he was always ravenous—I used to send for more milk for him in the evening—he had more than a pint a day—Q. Did you ever beat him? A. I might have just tapped him on the hands, he was a very dirty child, but not to hurt him—my husband generally came home between six and seven, and stayed at home till about ten—then he used to go to the end of the street, and back again about eleven, or shortly after—the child slept in my bedroom, with me and my Husband And my baby.
Cross-examined. I never had a nurse-child before this one—I did not take it to make a profit out of it; I took it just for the fortnight, till the mother took it, but she never offered to take it—she was to pay me six. shillings a week while I minded him—I only took it for a fortnight—she never asked me to give it up—I did not say I would not give it up till I received what was owing me—she owed me £5 12s. for herself, and £4 12s. for the child—Mrs. Miall lodged with me—Mrs. Byrne was a next-door neighbour—Mrs. Miall was very seldom at home—she was never in the house only in the morning and evening; she was away hopping—when at home it was only for a couple of days—the story they have told is entirely false from beginning to end; there is not a bit of truth in it—the child was an unhealthy child when it came to me; I told the officer so—it was not well clad, or clean; it had on a very old pair of boots and socks—the mother did not send me new things; she never sent me any shoes—it was covered with vermin when it came to me, and the mother knows it; it had no sores till after it had the measles—I did not particularly notice whether it had any bruises—I stripped it, I did not notice any—I washed it early that evening; I did not see any bruises—it got steadily worse; that was owing to natural causes—it is not true that I struck it, or put it in the cupboard, or that I struck it with a copper-stick; I have a copper-stick—the child's bed-clothing was a blanket and sheet, and a very small counterpane—that was not the bed-clothing it had on when the officer came; it lay upstairs then—it is not true that it was lying on a sack on a box—these people lived in my place, and got in my debt, and through my husband giving them notice to leave they became nasty with me—Mrs. Byrne did not owe me money; I had a few words with her in my back garden about the mangling—I cannot say why the officer should tell what is untrue.
By the COURT. The child fell downstairs; that was in the new year, I think the first week after Christmas—it was that fall that caused him to lose his teeth, I am certain of that; his teeth were loose, two of them, below—I did not see him fall, my little boy was with him; I heard him fall, I heard the sound—when I picked him up he was bleeding very much—after I had washed him and put clean clothes on him I showed him to Mrs. Arnold—I took him to Dr. Hawkesworth that morning.
boy Freddy being at my house—he had his meals at my table with me and my wife and children, and he had the same kind of food; he slept in my room—my wife never beat him at night; to my knowledge she never laid hands on him at night; I never heard of it—I am a shipwright—I go to work at half-past five in the morning, and get to bed at half-past ten or eleven, sometimes at half-past eight—while I was in bed I never heard anything of the sort—he used not to scream all night—I never heard him scream; he never made any noise or disturbance—he used to play in the yard with my children—I never saw my wife ill-use him; she corrected him, the same as my own—my wife is a sober woman.
Cross-examined. I generally come home from about four to six—I belong to a club; I don't go there only to pay my club money—I never noticed any bruises on the child—he fell downstairs once; I did not see it, my wife told me—it was always a delicate child from the commencement; I noticed at the finish that it was getting thin—he was very dirty—he did not look like this photograph—I did not notice that he had vermin in his head—my wife always took the greatest care of the boy.
Re-examined. I always had my tea when I came home, and he used to be with me and my children.
JANE SARAH SMITH . I am single—I work at Pinks' jam factory at Bermondsey—I used to visit the prisoner—I remember Freddy Edmunds, being there—I could not tell the date; it was last year—I have been going there for two years almost, three or four times a week—this child was treated the same as the others—I never saw any ill-treatment towards it in any way—it had its meals with them; only on Sundays he had a piece of bread and butter in the evening—Sunday was the only time I nave been there—it was not frightened of me; I used to nurse him—I suggested a doctor being sent for, but I went home before he came.
Cross-examined. I went there because I was a shopmate of the prisoner's eldest daughter—I usually got there about seven—the child was kept clean; he always looked clean—I saw him last the day after the gentleman came from the society—I first saw it some time last August, soon, after Mrs. French had it—after Christmas he got thin and poorly; after he had the measles—I did not notice any frightened look—Mrs. French was not always present when I saw him—he did come to look like this photograph—I never noticed any vermin—having a little one of my own I never thought of it—being very fair, I think I should have noticed it—I noticed some sores on his face when I saw him last—he had a dark colour; I did not notice whether it was dirty.
JOHN HOWELL . I live at 32, Blackhorse Road, Deptford—I have known the prisoner turned twenty years, always as a respectable, honest, and sober person, and the husband also; he is a teetotaler—I remember the boy Freddy; I was a visitor at the house two or throe nights a week, and on a Sunday, all the time the child was in the house, which was about seven or eight months—he was treated the same as their own children when I was there—I did not notice any frightened look; he used to play about the same as the other children.
Cross-examined. I generally got there in the evening about half-past six—I never saw any vermin on the child, or that he looked dirty—it had clothes on, the same as working people's children—it had shoes and socks on every time I saw it—I never saw any bruises on it.
By the COURT. I know nothing about its falling downstairs, only what I heard Mrs. French say; that was close on November, I can't say; it might have been the middle of November—I did not see it afterwards—I saw it up to within a week of its going away—I saw it the next day after I heard of the fall—I did not take notice of any bruises—I never heard anything about its teeth—I heard say they were loose—that must We been in November, within two days after I heard of it; they said it was from falling downstairs—I heard that Mrs. Miall said it bled a lot when it was chucked downstairs; that was said at the inquest—I was at the inquest, but was not let in—I heard Mrs. Miall give evidence at Greenwich; she said that Mrs. French threw it downstairs—I heard her say that at Greenwich or some other Court—I heard her say that she saw Mrs. French chuck the child downstairs; I think she said it was on the 4th September, and that she continued whacking the child day after day—she said that at the inquest to Mr. Cartaar the coroner; I swear that.
By MR. HUTTON. I heard the evidence given at the Police-court—I was three times at the Coroner's Court, but I was not called as a witness—they let me in twice—I saw all the witnesses for the prosecution go in the first time—I went in twice—I was in the room when Mrs. Miall said that—that was on the second time.
NOT GUILTY .
Upon the Coroner's inquisition for the manslaughter of the said child no evidence was offered, and a verdict of
NOT GUILTY was taken.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
RICHARD and ROBERT FIGG PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
JOHN NAGLE . I live at Ballina House—I had been in the Blythe Public-house, and was coming home, and received a blow which broke my spectacles—I saw a man when I recovered myself—the prisoner came upend said to the men following me, "What did you want to knock that man down for? If you come along this way I will knock you down"—they all rushed on me, and I was tripped up, and my watch and chain were taken—I saw a doctor, and was in bed four days—I was unable to go to the Police-court for fourteen days—this in my watch.
Cross-examined. I was struck senseless—there were three men; the other two were with the prisoner—he walked quietly with me, but when I got further, he was one of those who held me and threw me down.
WILLIAM ANDERSON . I am a potman at the Blythe Public-house—on, the morning of May 10th, about 12. 25, I saw Nagle in the saloon bar—the two Figgs were there, but no one was with them—I saw them leave five minutes after Nagle left.
GEORGE PURNELL . I am a watchmam, of Sydenham—at 12. 30 on the 10th I was at the Blythe Public-house, and saw the three prisoners there—I was standing in the front garden, opposite the public-house, and saw Nagle leave—he held out his hand to shake hands, and said, "Good night, boys"—they said, "Who are you calling boys?"—Hammerton knocked his hat off, and Richard Figg put his foot on it—they hustled him and knocked him down—he got up and they hustled
him ten or fifteen yards, and he fell, and got up again, and then they struck him under the arm, and he fell—I called out, "You cowardly dogs, what are you doing to that man?"—Robert Figg, I believe it was, got him by the arm and said, "I will see that you are not knocked about again," and went with him through Blythevale—five or six minutes Afterwards I heard loud cries of "Police!" and "Help!"—I could not get out because the keys were in the office—I got out in ten minutes, and the prisoners had gone.
Cross-examined. I will not positively swear Richard Figg is the man who took the prosecutor away; I believe so—it was not a dark night—I could not go away for the keys, or I should have lost sight of the prisoners.
ALFRED TIMMS (480 P). I was on duty in Blythevale, and heard cries of "Police!"—Nagle made a complaint to me—I took him to the station—his clothing was covered with dust, and his face with blood—he was sober—I picked up these spectacles at the other end of the road.
FREDERICK BUNTING (Police Sergeant P). I received information on the 10th, and took the two Figgs at noon—someone else was there, but I do not recognise Hammerton—I afterwards arrested Hammerton, from what they said, at Forest Hill—he said, "I know nothing whatever about it; I was there with the others and someone hit me on the head with a stick"—I said, "I am told you had the watch and chain"—he said, "You will have to prove it"—I found this watch and showed it to him; he made no reply.
ARTHUR BROTIS . I live with my parents at 19, Dalmar Road—I was with the prisoners—I left them at ten o'clock—I was with them next morning when the detectives arrested the two Figgs; Hammerton was with us—I saw him again by the railway bridge, and he said, "Hold this watch for me"—I did so, and he dropped it on the bank and covered it over—I pointed out the place to the police.
Cross-examined. He did not tell me the watch had been given him by the other two.
JAMES SAUNDERS . I am a doctor—I was called to the prosecutor and found him in' bed—he had an incised wound over the right eyebrow; I put a stitch into it—there was a small lacerated wound under the right eyelid; the left eye was also bruised—he complained a good deal of pain in his chest—he is still suffering a good deal from nervous excitement.
HAMMERTON— GUILTY . Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
BAILEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. ABRAMS Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Jackson.
EMMA ABON . I am cook to Colonel Russell, of Downham House, Shooters' Hill—about nine p. m. on January 30th, as I went upstairs I noticed footmarks on the stairs and the window open, and I saw Bailey go through the window—I had never seen him before.
GEORGE RUSSELL . I am a retired Royal Artillery colonel—on January 30th my attention was called to dirty marks on the stairs, and I went into my bedroom and I missed two rings, three gold and one silver
bracelets, a silver brooch, a gold brooch, a pearl necklace, and a button-hook, value about £130 in all—I have all those articles with the exception of three rings—they are my property—they had been left upon a dressing table.
RICHARD HOWELL (Sergeant V). About eleven on May 25th I went to a little general shop in the Three Rope Yard Rails, Woolwich, kept by Jackson, I believe—I believe there was a man there—I have never seen him there, and I could not speak positively—on entering the shop with another officer I saw Jackson—I said, "We are police officers; I want to speak to you about some gold rings"—she said "Yes, what is the description of the gold rings you are inquiring about?"—I said, "One is a diamond ring, and the other has a red stone centre with a large pearl each side"—she said, "I have had nothing of that description"—I said, "Have you bought or received any rings during the past four months?"—she said, "No, I have not"—Rutherford, the other officer, said, "Have you bought any bracelets?"—she hesitated, and said, "I did buy two bracelets"—I said, "Who did you buy them of?"—she said, "A man I don't know"—I asked her if she would show me the bracelets—she went into a bedroom—I was going up, and I met her coming out of the room door—she said, "These are the bracelets I bought"—I said, after looking at them, "From a description I have in my pocket I believe this property belongs to Colonel Russell, and I shall search your house"—she said, "Very well, you can do so"—I examined three boxes and a chest of drawers in the bedroom, and found three gold bracelets, a silver one, a buttonhook, two rings, two brooches, and "a necklace—I said, "Can you account for these?"—she said, "Yes, I can, for everything there; it belongs to me"—at this moment a man named Jackson, now dead, entered the room, and said, "What are you looking for?"—I said, "Stolen property"—he said, "Everything in this house and everything in this room belongs to me, and it is bought and paid for"—I was informed he was her husband, but since then I have heard something else—after further search I said I should take them to the station, and they would be charged with stealing and receiving—when charged at the station they made no reply—three or four days after the remand the man died in prison—the shop is a small general one, for the convenience of the lodging-houses all along there.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHRGAN. There was no coroner's inquest on the man—I did not hear what was said about him—the charge against them was as man and wife.
HENRY RUTHERFORD (Detective Officer). I went with Howell to this house on 25th May—I took Mrs. Jackson to the station—she said on the, way, "I do all the dealing in my shop; my husband knows nothing about it."
Cross-examined. I was not present at the inquest—Jackson did not seem in a very delicate state of health when arrested—he died four days afterwards, I heard.
JOHN BAILEY (in custody). I have pleaded guilty to stealing the articles named in this indictment from Colonel Russell's house—after stealing them I went to Mrs. Jackson's shop at Rope Yard Rails, Woolwich—I saw Mrs. Jackson; no one else was in the shop at the time—I took the rings, bracelets, and all the articles, with the exception of three
rings which I lost, out of my pockets, and showed them to her and said, "It is a colonel's house, and the woman knows me; she saw me when I was going to get through the window"—I told her I had stolen them—she said, "Let me have a look at them"—we went into the kitchen at the back of the shop, and she examined the articles—she said They are not marked, and they are no good"—I understood that she meant they were not hall-marked—I said, "You had better given enough money to go to Liverpool, and to take the boat and go to America, because I am bound to be found out"—she laughed and said, "They are not worth it; the most I can give you is thirty shillings"—that was for the whole lot—I told her I had better take the thirty shillings, and I took it—it was about nine o'clock that I got into the colonel's house, and about ten o'clock when I got to Mrs. Jackson's shop—I had been there and sold her things before.
Cross-examined. I was arrested by Sergeant Henry Bishop when I was leaving Maidstone Gaol, where I had been for sacrilege—the church door was open and I walked in and took what I could; I took a white ensign—I was in trouble before in the High Road, Lee, and I got then ten days at Greenwich for stealing from outside a shop—I have also had two months for the unlawful possession of underclothing—there is nothing else against me—I give evidence because I thought the woman had not dealt fair with me, and had not given me enough money; I thought as she had a share of the profits she ought to have a share of the punishment—I told the police at Woolwich I would give evidence—Jackson was not in the dock by Mrs. Jackson's side when I gave evidence.
GUILTY —There was another indictment against Jackson for receiving a clock. BAILEY— Nine Months' Hard Labour. JACKSON— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. H. AVORY and MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. GRAIN Defended.
WILLIAM JOHN ALBIN . I have been three months employed by the prisoner, a shellac, gum and glue merchant, at 118, Snowsfields, Bermondsey—I lived next door, at No. 119—he was in the habit of locking up every night and keeping the key—on Wednesday, May 24th, I came in at the street door and saw him at the cupboard under the stairs, in a stooping position—I had been out—he went upstairs—I looked into the
cupboard at 6. 45, and found five or six pieces of greasy paper and some cotton-wool on the floor—that cupboard was not used for anything—the paper and wool were not there before—there were also some large pieces of wood there—I took the paper and wool out and put them in the yard of No. 120—on the same afternoon I was going towards the back premises and saw smoke issuing from the back window of the workshop—I said to the prisoner, "Where is that smoke coming from?"—he said, "I could not tell you"—I went into the workshop soon afterwards and found the highest corner of the back workshop on fire—shavings and a box of shellac were burning—the prisoner followed down behind me, and said, "I wonder how this has happened?"—(there is a boiler there; that is where we carry on our work—there had been a fire burning that morning, it was lit about ten o'clock, but it was put out at 10. 30, in consequence of not having materials to get on with the employment)—I said, "I do not know, sir; I was here half an hour ago, it was all safe then—it had gone four o'clock then—on Friday, the 26th, I saw the prisoner near the cupboard when I returned from dinner, about 3. 30—as I came to the front door he was in the act of leaving the cupboard—about seven p. m. a friend of mine, Arthur Beard, came to see me, and soon afterwards we looked into the cupboard, and I saw paper and cotton waste just the same as I had Been it before, and the same wood—there was a basket and a barrel; they had been there several days, and a little case—the prisoner came upstairs into the workshop, and said, "Have you very nearly finished your work?"—I said, "Yes, sir"—he said, "I promised you I would give you a night to go to the Canterbury," and put his hand in his pocket and gave me & two-shilling piece and a sixpence—about that time Seddon, another assistant, came in, and he gave him a shilling and sent him out to buy a shillingsworth of stamps, and told me to get away as quick as I could and wash myself, or I should be too late, and he would call me when he was ready—I went to my house, next door but one, and in two or three minutes he called me, and said, "Albin, you can come and lock up now"—he came outside the front door, pulled it to with his hand, and said, "You can lock the padlock now"—I said, "Had not I better go and look round, sir, as usual?"—he said, "No; you can get away"—I locked the padlock, and took the key, and was going—he said, "Will you have a drink of beer before you go?" and Beard and Seddon went with us to the public-house, and he treated us to three halves of mild and bitter, and he had a pint of beer—he left us there—he was in a very excited condition, and seemed to be very much trembling—Beard went out after him, and came back to me—Beard and I went back to No. 120, and got up a ladder—I carried the ladder across the roof and put it down to the skylight of the back workshop, No. 118, and got in at the skylight—Beard went down the ladder first, and I followed to the cupboard door, and saw a light before opening the door, because it was very badly fastened—when I opened it I saw the paper and the cotton waste and the wood as I had previously seen them, and this box was placed in addition just inside the door, in the centre of which a candle was burning, and two pieces of paraffin wax were laid on the top, two bottles of oil, and some cotton waste and paper, and a parcel of shellac, which burns—I fetched a constable in uniform—Beard was off
duty at that time—on the same night I went upstairs with Inspector Croston and examined the premises—there was a room in which cotton waste had been kept in a box similar to this, only longer; the box had been moved and some of the cotton waste was gone—the prisoner was the only person left on the premises when I left to go to my own house to wash myself, but Seddon was on the premises when Beard and I got through the skylight—there were inflammable materials in the workshop upstairs, such as oil and shellac—it is a wooden staircase, forming the top of the cupboard—the state of the business at that time was very bad, and the prisoner told me to say if "so-and-so" called that he was away in Manchester—"so-and-so" were creditors—some creditors called and I carried out the directions; but he was not in Manchester, he was upstairs, and after they had gone he called me up—he asked me on two occasions if I was insured—he said, "It will be well to do so, because if this place catches light the whole row of houses will go down"—they are old houses; you can go from one end of the roofs to the other—about October or November last, before I went into his employ, I was awoke between two and 2. 30 by smoke coming in at my window; that was at No. 119—I shifted into No. 120 afterwards—I looked out at the window and saw a quantity of smoke and flame issuing from his back window, first floor—I gave an alarm and then went there, but could not get in for the smoke; it was put out by the fire brigade—the prisoner lived at Church Road, Peckham.
Re-examined. Beard is a very great friend of mine, and prior to May 3rd he had been to the prisoner's workshop to see me, and the prisoner had spoken to him and knew that he was a policeman—Beard was there off and on during the four months I was there—I worked in the back workshop, where the boilers to melt shellac are—I entered by the street door, there is no other inlet—as you go in, this cupboard is on the left—if the door is bolted you have to knock, but during business hours you can open it—as a rule, during the last month, it has been kept bolted, so that persons should knock before they enter—it was kept bolted while I was at work there, because people came in who he did not want to see or to come into the warehouse when we were at the back—the warehouse contained goods—the people said that the sole reason of it being kept shut was to keep out creditors—it was only during the last month I was told to say that he was not at home, he was at Manchester—on Wednesday, the 24th, I first suspected that he intended setting fire to the premises—I had no suspicion that the fire in October was wilful at the time; I know now that the Sun Fire Office paid him compensation in respect of that fire—Beard was not on the prisoner's premises on the 24th—he came to see me, and I told him what I fancied—I did not invite him to come on the 26th—I did not expect he was coming on any day after the 24th—I mean to say that his call on the 26th was unexpected by me—he did not tell me what he came about; we talked over what I had found in the cupboard—he came on the 26th about seven o'clock, and the prisoner saw him and talked to him and to me in the back workshop—the staircase faces you as you go in at the front door—when the prisoner told me co go and wash, Beard went with me, and when I was called he came out with me—I had the padlock of the entrance door of a night, and could have got in on.
the night of the 24th or 25th—the public-house where the prisoner left me is about thirty yards from his house, and I had the key of the padlock—there was between five and eight minutes from the time I locked the padlock and the prisoner leaving me, so that in ten minutes I could have had my drink and gone back and got into the house—I went over the roofs and got in at the skylight, instead of opening the padlock, "because the prisoner might have come back—he has come back two or three times and come to my house and asked me for the key, and I did not know whether he would come back that night; that was why I took Seddon—I do not know Field or Fulbrook, but I know that he prosecuted them at the London Sessions, and they were sentenced—I do not know that Seddon also robbed him; I do not know that some persons have threatened to do him an injury in consequence of this prosecution—he did not say to me, "What is that smoke coming out of the back works?"—I said so to him—three bags of shavings had been thrown on the coals, but the coals were quite dead; they had not been burning up to three o'clock—I raked the fire out at 10. 30, and he went away for some glue; it is not the fact that he saw the shavings and called my attention to them—he told me to put an indiarubber pipe on—Seddon had gone to the Old Kent Road—he came back afterwards—I did not hear the prisoner say to him, "Joe, you have been trying to set fire to the place"—I do not know what he said upstairs, but Seddon came down and told me the governor had said something to him—there was no fastening to the cupboard; the door could come open—when I saw him leaving the cupboard at 3. 30 I did not look into it—I thought I would look later on, because he said, "Come and get on with the work"—I did not know Fulbrook till Seddon told me about him.
Re-examined. I saw no sign of Fulbrook on May 26th—I am sure Seddon had left the premises before I went to wash my hands—the lid of a large box was against the cupboard door to keep it shut.
JUSTINIAN PICKUP (85 M). I prepared this plan of 118, Snowsfields, showing the ground and first floors—these three photographs were taken under my direction—one is a photograph of the cupboard on the ground floor.
ARTHUR BEARD (171 M). I am a friend of Albin—on Friday, 26th May, about seven p. m., I was off duty, and I went to see him at 118, Snowsfields—about a quarter to eight, when the prisoner went upstairs to write a letter, as he said, Albin showed me in the cupboard underneath the stairs a quantity of paper, some wood, a' wicker basket, and a barrel—soon after the prisoner came downstairs and said to Albin, "I promised you if you worked hard to-day I would treat you to the Canterbury," and at the same time he gave him a two-shilling piece and a sixpence—Seddon was there; the prisoner told him to go out and get some stamps, and at the same time he gave him some money—then Albin and I went out, leaving the prisoner on the premises alone, as far as I knew—I came back with Albin, whom I heard the prisoner call—I saw him shut the door and Albin lock it—as we moved away from the door towards the public-house we met Seddon coming back with the stamps—we all went to the Rose Public-house, where the prisoner treated us—he appeared to be very agitated, and was trembling very much and perspiring—he left us there, and went away—I followed him for a short distance, and saw he was going towards London Bridge—I went back with Albin to
his house, and with him and Seddon got in at the skylight of 118, and went downstairs to the cupboard—before opening the cupboard door I saw the light from the candle coming through the cracks in the cupboard—we opened the cupboard door and found the box and the candle, cotton waste, paper, and bottles of oil, and tightly wrapped in a piece of news-paper I found a square cardboard box with holes in it, and containing about a pound of gunpowder—that cardboard box was about nine inches above the wooden box, lodging between the wicker basket and the stairs—the wicker basket was at the back of the cupboard, close against the stairs, and the box was close in front of the basket—the whole thing was in such a position that if the contents of the box had caught fire the gunpowder and the stairs must have been ignited—I sent Albin off to find a uniform constable, and 426 came—I waited till the inspector came before putting out the candle, so that he saw it exactly as I had found it, only that the door was open—when he came he put out the candle and removed all the things to the Police-station—that same evening I and Sergeant Croston and Seddon went to 115, Shoumert Road, Peckham—Seddon knocked at the door, which the prisoner opened, and then we walked in and arrested him—I said, "You know who I am?"—he made no reply—Croston told him the nature of the charge, and he said, "I know nothing of the matter"—at the station he told me he was insured in the Sun Fire Office—it was about ten minutes after the prisoner left that we got into the premises—I am sure there was no light burning in the cupboard when I left the premises before that.
Cross-examined. When I was shown this cupboard on the night of the 26th there was a quantity of wood there, but not the candle or the gunpowder, that I am aware of—the cupboard was pulled open, and I saw it all at a glance—I looked in, and, so far as I could see, there was no gunpowder—I am positive the candle was not there, nor the box; but this wood was there; this paper was strewed about; this wicker basket and this barrel were there—that was at a quarter to eight when I had the passing glance—I got to the Rose about ten minutes past eight as nearly as possible—the Rose is about thirty yards from the prisoner's warehouse—between a quarter to eight and the time we got to the Rose we stopped in the warehouse some considerable time—the prisoner had not come downstairs when we saw this paper in the cupboard, and after he came down with the letters we stopped for some time—I went into Albin's house when he went to wash; and I came back with him, and went close to the warehouse door—I am positive the prisoner pulled it to, and Albin turned the key in the lock and put it into his pocket, and we went to the public-house—we were there about two minutes, I should say—the prisoner's proper way home would be by train from London Bridge Station—he would take five or seven minutes, as he was walking, to get from the warehouse to London Bridge Station—I watched him going along towards London Bridge till he was quite out of sight, going in that direction—I then returned to Albin's house—Albin first suggested getting through the skylight, and I thought it would be best—I have been there about six or seven times since Albin has been there, and I have had friendly conversations with the prisoner—he knew perfectly well I was a police officer—I told him I had been watching and making a raid on a
betting house, and I had had a good deal of conversation with him about it at different times—I was not shown the cupboard on the 24th, but Albin spoke to me about what he had seen—he said something about some shavings, but I could not remember his words; as it was near the boiler I thought it might be accidental—on the night of the 26th, as he went out to wash himself, he told me what he had seen on the 24th, and he showed me a quantity of paper and waste that he said he had taken from the cupboard on the 24th and put in his own yard—there was a quantity of black paper, which appeared to have been saturated with grease, and about a pound of cotton-waste; it was not clean—there is a slight smell of oil on this piece—that paper and cotton-waste was in the back yard, against the kitchen window, of Albin's house—to take that cotton-waste and paper from the warehouse to Albin's yard you would have to go out of the front of the warehouse into the street, and then through Albin's house into the back yard—Albin did not tell me how he brought it from the warehouse into his yard; he told me on the 26th it was about 7. 15 on the night of the 24th, after the prisoner had left, he (Albin) being left on the premises—he did not tell me why he had brought these things out; we had no time for any conversation about it—Seddon was not with us in Albin's house on the night of the 26th—he went to the public-house with us, but, when we went to Albin's house to wash, Seddon went for the stamps; he met us near. Weston Street, on the road to the Rose.
Re-examined. There is no back yard, and no outlet at the back of No. 118—Seddon was not out of my sight after we met him coming back with the stamps until we went back through the skylight—I and Albin were away from seven to eight minutes when Albin went to wash himself at his own house, before the prisoner called—I heard the prisoner tell Albin to go and wash himself, and he said he would call him when he wanted him—I did not hear Albin say anything about looking round first, but I saw him lock the door.
By the COURT. I went to Albin at the warehouse about seven, and remained there till half-past, when I went to the Rose at the prisoner's request for a threepenny cigar and one and a half pint of mild and bitter—I returned with them in about three minutes, and then remained in the warehouse till just before eight, when I went with Albin to his house for him to wash, and he showed me the paper and cotton-waste, and said, "This is the stuff I saw in the cupboard on Wednesday"—I wrapped it in brown paper and put it behind a box in the yard to hide it—Albin saw me do that—I said, "Keep yourself quiet, and say nothing"—seeing the paper, and screwing it up in the brown paper, and hiding it behind the case, may have taken five minutes—Albin did not wash at all; he went into his passage; and I stayed in the yard, and came out directly after him—when Albin locked the warehouse door and took the key, the prisoner, Albin and I went to the Rose, and I never lost sight of Albin—he did not leave the Rose while we were there—we were there about two minutes—I followed the prisoner till he turned round Joiner Street to the right, where some steps lead up to the station, and then I went back and joined Seddon and Albin in Weston Street—I had told Albin I was going to watch the prisoner—I told Albin and Seddon when I rejoined them that the prisoner had gone up London Bridge steps
—then we went back to Albin's, and got through the skylight and into the warehouse, which took two or three minutes—I moved the brown paper parcel from the back yard to the station on the night of the 26th—about fifteen minutes elapsed from the time of the door being locked to the time of my going back into the warehouse.
JOSEPH SEDDON . I was in the prisoner's employment—the premises were lit by gas—on May 26th I was out from eleven a. m. to seven p. m.—I saw Albin and Beard in the evening—Albin did not show me the cup-board on the 26th; but on the 24th he did, about six p. m.—on the 26th the prisoner asked me to post a letter—I saw the prisoner in the Rose; he seemed agitated—on leaving the Rose he gave me some directions—I was afterwards with Albin and Beard.
Cross-examined. I had always found the prisoner a good and kind master—Fulbrook and another man stole some glue—on 24th May I went to Simmons with Albin about half-past nine—the day before this we got some cases from Davis's Wharf.
Re-examined. I had nothing to do with lighting the candle in the cup-board—I had no feeling against the prisoner on 26th May.
By the JURY. The prisoner did not suggest to me I should be likely to set the place afire in regard to raking out the cinders—when I went out the boiler was alight, and I never had anything to do with raking out the fire that day.
By MR. GRAIN. On the Wednesday I left at three p. m.; the fire was alight then—when I came back about six some shavings and burnt things were shown to me—there were shavings there when I left—the prisoner sent me out to Simmons to ask for an account.
DAVID JONES (Police Inspector M). On the night of the 26th I was called about 8. 30 to 118, Snowsfields—the candle was burning in the box when I arrived—I ordered it to be put out, and examined the premises—I went upstairs with Albin, and found a quantity of cotton-waste in the top room—later on the prisoner was brought to the station and then charged with attempting to set fire to the premises—he said, "I am entirely innocent of this; I know nothing of it"—I examined the premises and found they were fitted up with gas; there was no need of candles—on the following Monday, on searching the room used as an office by the prisoner, I found in the desk a number of papers demanding money, and writs and summonses for money, and this candle, similar to the candle found in the box—I should say about one inch of the candle in the box was burnt—the desk was open, not locked.
Cross-examined. I saw this candle alight when I arrived at the prisoner's warehouse about half-past eight—I have no record of the exact time.
WILLIAM CROSTON (Detective Sergeant M). On the night of 26th May, I went with Beard and Seddon to 115, Shurmer Road, Peckham, about 11—the prisoner opened the door—I told him he would be charged with attempting to set fire to his own warehouse at 118, Snowsfields—he made no answer—his wife, who was present, became very excited, and said, "I knew all this week there was something wrong. Why don't you tell me what it is? You will kill me"—I took the prisoner at his request into the parlour, where he said to his wife, "Well, I know nothing of this"—I had cautioned him—on the way to the station he said, "What damage
is done?"—I reminded him that I had cautioned him—at the station he was charged, and he said, "I know nothing about this"—I showed him the contents of the box, containing the candle and the inflammable stuff—I was present when the claims for the unpaid debts were found.
GEORGE EDWARD MEAD . I am superintendent of the Sun Fire Office—on 7th February, 1891, a policy was effected on the stock and fixtures at premises in New Inn Street, Borough, and it was afterwards transferred to 118, Snowsfields—the amount was £500, and it was in the name of Watson—in October the prisoner made a claim under the policy in respect of a fire which had taken place on 6th October for £329 13s. 9d.—that was settled by us for £220, for which he gave me a receipt—the policy was renewed by the payment of the premium in January last, and would be current up to next Christmas.
Cross-examined. After the fire last year, and the settlement of the claim, we should have been perfectly within our rights to refuse to renew the premium in January this year.
THOMAS CHARLES PEART . I am foreman fireman at Clerkenwell Station—on 6th October I was called to the fire at lid, Snowsfields—I found the first-floor back room on fire, and the fire was confined to that room; it was generally all round the room—we did not discover the cause.
CHARLES EDWARD ALLEN . I am a bailiff of Southwark County Court—in the last twelve months I have had six distress warrants against the prisoner at 118, Snowsfields—each time I have put a man in possession—the last one was on 20th May, I think, and a man was in possession then—there was no man in possession on 26th May.
Cross-examined. The warrant on 20th May was paid out on the following Thursday—they have all been paid with the exception of one.
WILLIAM CROSTON (Re-examined). I have made experiments with candles precisely similar to this, and I find it would take this candle 31 minutes to burn this length—I produce one of exactly the same kind of make, that I have tried.
By MR. GRAIN. I bought this at a shop close to the prisoner's place—they are known in the trade as No. 4 Cowslip wax, and go to four in the pound—I made my experiment in my own house in a room under as nearly as possible the same conditions, with about the same amount of draught.
GUILTY .— Six Years' Penal Servitude ,
MR. HUTTOK Prosecuted and MR. BRUCE Defended Johnson.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
a hackney carriage driver—the prisoner had been in my employment before June for the purpose of clipping horses, and had been at my premises—on Friday, 2nd June, I left my house about a quarter past nine—I had in my house a gold ring, 8s. in silver, and a metal pass, all in my clothes box in my bedroom—I locked the door behind me—when I got home, about eleven or a few minutes past, that same night, I found my house had been broken into.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I met Mrs. Scotford a week afterwards and told her what had happened; she did not tell me she knew what had happened.
THOMAS HAWKINS (Detective Sergeant V). About twelve on the morning of June 13th I went to the prisoner's lodgings at Water Lane, Richmond, and charged him with breaking into these premises—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, where he was charged—he made a similar reply—a little after nine a. m. on June 3rd I visited Woods' premises, and found entry had been effected by forcing the front door with some instrument, which had left an impression on the door, six or seven inches below the lock—on the way to the station the prisoner said, "I am not going round the corner on this matter; I shall tell you all about it"—I said, "If you wish to make a statement you can do so, and it will be taken down in writing by the inspector, and may be used in evidence against you"—I took him to Inspector Walsh, and he made a statement to him in my presence, and signed it.
THOMAS WALSH (Inspector V). I am stationed at Richmond—on the 13th, Hawkins brought the prisoner to the Police-court, and said the prisoner wanted to make a statement—I said to the prisoner, "Is that so?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Do you want it to be used in evidence in the ease?"—he said, "Yes"—I took down this statement from the prisoner, read it over to him, and he signed it in my presence. (The statement was read as follows:—"On 2nd June, Mr. Scotford and a man who works at Billingsgate Market, who is a friend of his (who Mrs. Scotford said was her brother). Scotford said to him, 'I have got a job for you.' He said, 'All right.' We all left Epsom for Richmond, and when we arrived at Richmond, at Scotford's house, after we had tea, myself, Mr. and Mrs. Scotford, and her friend went to Mr. Woods' yard, and went into the yard, and I saw her friend go and burst Mr. Woods' door open and enter there. What he took from there I don't know, but he gave me a piece of metal which he said he got from there, which I kept about two days, and gave it to Scotford."
MARY SCOTFORD . I am the wife of James Scotford, of Red Lion Street, Richmond—I did not go to the Oaks on 2nd June—I first saw the prisoner about eight p. m. on 2nd June, when he came to my house with my husband, and they and another man stayed and had supper—my husband went out by himself—I followed about twenty or twenty-five minutes afterwards, because I wanted to get my husband home—I saw my husband with his horse and cart outside the Black Horse, and the prisoner had his hand on my husband's cart—I asked him what he was doing there—he said, "Nothing;" and a few minutes afterwards he said, "Stay a minute, I am going down to Captain Denny's stables"—I thought it was rather a strange thing, as I knew Captain Denny, and I ran after the prisoner, and saw him go to Mr. Woods' door and put his
back against it and push the door open, and the door went crash—I saw him go in and I turned round, and I saw a light after—I stood a little distance off to see—that was about twenty minutes to ten—I want away leaving him in Mr. Woods' house—I saw him at the Black Hone after-wards—next morning he came to my house and knocked, and said, "Any-one here?" and I said, "Yes;" and he said, "Mary, for God's sake, don't say anything about what you saw me do last night, because I don't know what will become of my little baby and my wife"—I said, "I will, 'because you did not study me and my husband; and if you don't go away from my door I shall make you," and I slammed the door in his face, and I saw him no more.
Cross-examined. I don't know who the other man was who came in with my husband and you—after supper I, my husband, you, and the friend did not get up in the cart together and drive to the Black Horse—I followed you to Mr. Woods' yard—there is only one door to his place—I saw you break open the door to his cottage—I did not notice if there was a door in the porch way—I went back to the Black Horse to my husband, and you came in afterwards by the front door.
By the COURT. The prisoner did not say what he was going to Captain Denny's stables for, and I thought it was late, and followed him to see what he did—he had had sufficient to drink, but he walked straight enough—when he pushed against the door I did not ask what he was doing, but ran back to my husband at the Black Horse and told him not to let him get into our cart because he had done something wrong—I thought at first it was some horseplay till I heard about it, and then I told Woods what I had seen—I did not think he was breaking open the door, but I thought it was a curious thing his going there—the prisoner was with my husband at Epsom—I can swear it was the prisoner who burst open the door, and not the supposed friend of my husband, or my husband—I did not see my husband or the other man give the prisoner a piece of metal.
UNA IRELAND . I am barmaid at the Black Horse, Sheen Road, Richmond—on Oaks Day, about a quarter past nine p. m., James Scotf-ord came in by himself, and about a quarter of an hour afterwards Mrs. Scotford came in and spoke to him, and five or seven minutes after the prisoner came in with another man—they stopped five or seven minutes; they conversed together—the prisoner left and two of the others left, but James Scotford remained in the bar—after that he left, and I heard cart-wheels going away—the Black Horse is three or five minutes' walk from Woods' place.
Cross-examined. You went out at the front of the house.
THOMAS RICHES . I live at 16, Red Lion Street, Richmond Oaks Day I went with Mr. and Mrs. King and Mr. and Mrs. Scotford to the races, and came back with them—we picked up another man in the cart just before we got to Kingston—he was the prisoner's friend—we took him on to Richmond—we stopped at the Old Ship, and all got out—the prisoner said to Scotford, "Stop here a little while, and we will have some more drink"—we all went to supper at Scotford's house—it was over about nine—Scotford's house is about half a mile from Woods'—that was the last I saw of them.
Cross-examined. The man was picked up before we got to Ewell—I
did not hear anyone talking to him—you were talking to him at the Old Ship—I knew he was a friend of yours, because I did not see or hear Mrs. Scotford talking to him—I don't know if he was Mr. and Mrs. Scotsford's friend; but you were talking to him all the while.
ELI PRITCHARD (220 V). I searched the prisoner's lodgings, and found in the back bedroom this chisel—I have compared it with the marks on Woods' cottage door, and it corresponds identically with them—the chisel tapers towards a point; it is like a screwdriver, and one side is different to the other—I found it in a bag of nails, chips, and shoemaking articles.
MRS. SCOTFORD (Re-examined). When I saw the door broken open I was standing about two yards from it, behind the man—the door opens into Mr. Woods'—I was right facing the door—I went to Epsom on the Wednesday, not on the Friday—I did not go to the Oaks.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"It was the man Charley who broke the door open. I am not guilty."
The prisoner called
JOHN NEWELL . I am a labourer—Mrs. Scotford was the party who brought her own brother to fight me on Epsom racecourse—on the 1st June he came from Luton—on the Friday night they all made a set about me, and kicked me pretty near to death, and they went from the Imperial to the Black Horse, and to their rooms—that night Mr. and Mrs. Scotford and her brother came to your house, and said you had robbed them and broke open your door, and broke up the furniture, at a quarter-past eleven—you ran away home because you thought I was going to get a good hiding—I don't want to speak to you, I am enemies with you—Mrs. Scotford came out with a poker to bash my brains out—it was on June 2nd, at a quarter to eleven—they came and charged you with stealing 7s. out of James Scotford's pocket, and I was too tricky for them.
The prisoner, in his defence, denied having broken open the door.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
643. BERTIE ROBERTS (16) and WILLIAM MILNE (16) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Lennox, and stealing £4 12s.6d. therein; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Rhoda Kennard, and stealing six rings and £40, her property.[See next case.]
644. BERTIE ROBERTS was again indicted with GEORGE JOSEPH HEEKS (49), JOSEPH HEEKS (20), CHARLES HEEKS (18), and ARTHUR CLEGG (20) , for burglary in the dwelling-house of Rhoda Mary Skinnard, and stealing six rings and £44. Second Count, receiving the same.
JOSEPH HEEKS, CHARLES HEEKS, ARTHUR CLEGG, and BERTIE ROBERTS PLEADED GUILTY.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
and immediately came to me, and I came down and found my kitchen window was wide open, with a ladder against it, and a pine of glass broken—I went into the dining-room, unlocked the door, and found the dining-room window open, with one pane broken—the shutter was up instead of down, and the thumb-screw was put down and the latch back, and there was blood on the lace curtain—my drawers had been ransacked—this chopper was on the table, the poker on the armchair—one door of the sideboard had been broken open—I missed from my drawers and the bar £52, as far as I could judge—the bar till was broken open, and one of the bar drawers—the night before, when I went to bed at 1. 5, after letting out my potman at one o'clock, and fastening up, everything was fastened up, bolted, and locked—these things are mine—I will not swear to this fourpenny piece, but I am sure it is mine.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I may have been two or three times to your place with the police to look for my money and rings—I did not take any property from there belonging to you.
ARTHUR SEWELL (Detective W). On 7th May I was called to and I examined the Wurtemberg Arms—entry had been effected by breaking the back-parlour window and moving the latch, and opening the window—on one of the curtains I found blood as though from a cut hand—on the drawer, in which the prosecutrix stated her money was, I found distinct marks of this instrument, which was afterwards found in the prisoner's house, 4, Vine Cottages—I applied for a search-warrant for that house, and at half-past seven I and other officers searched it—I found in a cupboard a quantity of farthings tied up in a handkerchief—the prisoner was then at home, and he had two sons and a young lad (Milne) sleeping in the wood-shed.
Cross-examined. I think I said we should search; you did not interfere—I said there were thirty or forty farthings—you said they came out of a money-box, and I said, "What is the use of telling me that? it would not hold half of them."
Cross-examined. I went to the place to which you asked me to go and saw the baker and his wife, and she told me your wife had been to make inquiries, and she said she told her that she had not the slightest recollection of having received a fourpenny piece from you or your family, and if she had she would have recollected it.
JOHN HAYNES (312 W). On 25th May I searched the prisoner's house, and upstairs in a cupboard I found this hat in this box, and under the lining of the hat I found this ring; I showed it to the accused at the station, and asked him how he accounted for it; he said he did not know anything of it—afterwards Mrs. Skinnard identified it.
By the COURT. It is a very small house, and there are eight or ten in the family; Joseph and Charles Heeks live there.
Mr. and Mrs. Heeks were up, and then we went upstairs, and were followed by Mrs. Heeks, and after two or three minutes Mr. Heeks came up to fetch Mrs. Heeks down, and as she was coming down Charlie Heeks took the money out of his pocket and started counting it, and Mr. Heeks stayed there, and after some minutes the fourpenny piece and other marked coins were brought out, and Charlie Heeks and Clegg handed them to me, and I gave them all to Mr. Heeks.
Cross-examined. You did not know I stopped in your house on the night of the robbery; your wife did—you asked me the previous night if I was going home—I went outside and Charles Heeks said, "Where are you going?"—I said, "Home"—he said, "Go upstairs," and he followed me up; we laid down on the bed for some time, and Mrs. Heeks came and said, "Is Bert here?"—I said, "Yes," and looked up, and she said, "It is all right"—you did not know I was stopping there, but you knew in the morning—I don't know if you had any idea we were going to do this robbery, but I think Charlie Heeks got information off you about the Wurtemberg Arms, so he told me.
By the COURT. Charles Heeks lifted Clegg and me over separately; he could not force the door with the axe, so he broke the window and got in, and cut his finger and tied it in a handkerchief, and then Clegg got in and I after him—I came out and was followed by Clegg, and then Charles Heeks came out, and he went down and got this door open, and tried another door, and said, "That is barred;" and he broke another window and I lifted out the shutter and got in—I got in and waited for Clegg—I stood at the table—he forced the door open and pulled out two bags with £5 in silver in each, coppers, and farthings—he gave them to me, and I gave the coppers and farthings to Clegg, and went to the bar—Clegg held the bell, and he got over the bar and sent me back for the axe, and then he broke the gold box open, took out the rings and gold and silver—he took some; I took about ten shillings, and Clegg had the rest—then he told me to unbolt the door—I did so and came out, and Joe Heeks said it was all right, and Joe and Charlie went into the back door, and he sent me and Clegg round to the front, and then we saw Mr. and Mrs. Heeks, and Joe and Charlie, when we got round there, inside their house—it was about four in the morning when we broke in—when we got back Mrs. Heeks washed the blood off Charlie Heeks's finger, and she had the handkerchief and bags to burn that the money was in—I had about £5 of the money; I gave Joe £1 and Mr. Heeks had 2s., and Mrs. Heeks had 4s. and 6s., and I gave 3s. to her daughter Clara; so when all was finished I had about £3 odd—it was daylight when we started, about four o'clock—Mr. and Mrs. Heeks were dressed.
ARTHUR CLEGG (in custody). I have pleaded guilty to this burglary—after leaving the Wurtemberg Arms we went to Mr. Heeks's house, and when I went in at the front door I saw Mr. Heeks getting off the sofa, and then I, Roberts, and Charles Heeks went upstairs and shared the money—Mr. Heeks after that came up and told us to go down—we shared the money up there after he had told us that—Charlie Heeks had £5, I had £1, and Joe had £1—I did not give the prisoner any; I don't know what he had.
By the COURT. I came over on the Saturday to Clapham to se
Charlie, and he said, "Let us go into the Wurtemberg Arms to-night," and I stopped at Heeks's house, and got up in the morning and went to the Wurtemberg Arms, and I took the axe Charlie gave me from Mr. Heeks's house, and we all three went—Charlie bumped me up on the wall, and Roberts afterwards, and Charlie came over after us—we went to the door where the potman cleans the pots, and broke it open, but could not get in the door; so we broke two windows and got in the kitchen window—Charlie broke the window open, the window and the screw, and pushed the shutters up, and wiped his hand on the curtain, and went and forced the door, and went through into the bar—I held the bell while Charlie opened the door—he got over the bar, and asked me to fetch the chopper—I would not, and Roberts fetched it, and Charlie Heeks broke the door open.
Cross-examined. I don't know if you have received any of the proceeds of the robbery; I have not seen you—you did not know till after the robbery that I and Roberts stopped there that Saturday night—you did not tell me to clear out, you did not want anything of that sort done in your house—you have not seen me since till you saw me in custody—you came upstairs and told, us to clear out—I did not see you have any money.
Re-examined. He had his trousers and stockings on, and his waistcoat and coat were off when we came in.
BERTIE ROBERTS (Re-examined by the JURY.) Charlie Heeks sug-gested that I should go into the Wurtemberg Arms—she asked me whether I would come to do a job at the Wurtemberg Arms—that was on the night before the Saturday—we were not told by the prisoner to clear out of his place; and Heeks has seen Clegg since—on this night Mrs. Heeks cut us some bread and butter, and made tea, and sent it up to us, and Joe Heeks asked us to have a game of banker.
The prisoner called
CHARLES HEEKS . I have given you no money or jewellery as the proceeds of this robbery; you never saw it—Roberts gave you no money; he could not have given you any without my seeing him—nobody had anything to do with the jewellery, or the disposing of it, except me—I told Neighbour outside the Police-court that I put the ring in the hat—I put the ring in the hat—I told him what I did with the other rings—you did not know that Roberts stopped with me that night, or that we were going to do the robbery.
The prisoner, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
JOSEPH HEEKS then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at this Court in March, 1892, CHARLES HEEKS to one in August, 1892, and ARTHUR CLEGG to one in May, 1892.
GEORGE JOSEPH HEEKS— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
CHARLES HEEKS and JOSEPH HEEKS— Three Years' Penal Servitude. ROBERTS, MILNE and CLEGG— Judgment respited to next Session.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ALICE ROBERTS (the younger). I assist my mother, a tobacconist, of 116, Brook Street—on June 8th I served the prisoner with half an ounce of tobacco, price 2d.—he tendered a half-crown: I think this is it (Produced)—I gave it to my mother, who said, "This is bad"—she gave it to him, and he said, "So it is," and was going out—she said, "I will have my tobacco back, if you please," and he gave it to her—I afterwards picked him out from others at the Police-court.
EMILY GIFFARD . I live at 14, St. George's Road, Southwark, and assist Mr. John Bruce, a tobacconist—on June 8th a boy came to the window and asked for some almonds, paid 11/2d., and gave me a half-crown—Mr. Bruce came in and bent it in the prisoner's presence.
JOHN BRUCE . I am a tobacconist, of 14 and 15, St. George's Road—on January 8th, about 7. 15, I heard my bell ring, and went towards the confectioners'—my daughter handed me this coin—I went into my shop and said to the prisoner, "What have you got here?"—he said, "A half-crown"—I said, "It is bad, where did you get it?"—he said, "I have had it in my pocket two or three days"—I asked where he lived—he said, "Over the water"—I said, "What part?"—he said, "Chandos Street"—I said, "I happen to know Chandos Street," and then he said it was a turning off Chandos Street.
HENRY SKIFFINGTON . On June 8th I was called to Mr. Bruce's shop and saw the prisoner—I said, "Where did you get this money from?"—he said, "I don't know, that is all the money I have got"—I turned out his pockets, and found 1s.7d. in one and 11/2d. in another—he said, "That is all I have got"—I said, "You will have to come down to the station"—when he got there he said, "I did not know I had any more coppers, or I should have paid with them"—I found this pocket-book on him, and this coin in it in paper—he gave his address, 8, Chandos Street, Trafalgar Square.
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM CARTER . I am a policeman, stationed at East Dulwich, and was told off on special duty at the railway—I saw the prisoner and four others throwing stones by the railway bank—I saw the prisoner throw three stones at passenger trains; one stone hit the third carriage from the engine, another the last carriage, and the third fell short—I came out from behind the hedge, and they all came out and ran through Nunhead and Peckham Rye—I found the prisoner on the railway bank,
and told him I wanted his name and address for throwing stones at a railway train at 10. 40 that morning—he gave me a false name and address—I have not the slightest doubt about him.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There were three boys, and a num-ber of stones were thrown—I kept a look-out on all of them—I was watching them for an hour; I met them in the road first throwing stones—I was in plain clothes—I did not speak to them then—I got into the hedge half an hour afterwards—they were all perfect strangers to me—a constable took out the summons against the prisoner; he was charged with throwing stones in the road apart from this transaction, and the Magistrate said, "No doubt the constable would charge him with throwing stones at the trains"—I told the Magistrate about him throwing stones at the trains—he was fined five shillings or five days, and was summoned to appear again.
Re-examined. I was within ten yards of him, and have not the slightest doubt of him.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. BODKIN and BIRON Prosecuted.
ARTHUR JAMES FLOWER . I live at 1, Water Lane, Brixton, and am a clerk in the General Post Office—in January 1, Water Lane, was to let, and the prisoner called on me about taking it—he described himself as a shoemaker—I asked him to produce his receipts for rent—I saw them, and let him the house as a quarterly tenant—I saw him sign this agreement—he had only paid a portion of the rent at Lady Day—I went with Mr. Sutherland to the house—he remained on the pavement—I went to the door and the prisoner opened it—I gave him notice to quit by Michaelmas—he said, "The house does not suit me; I intended to give it up"—he did not go out on September 29th, and I commenced an action by this special endorsed writ, in which I claim possession of the premises and rent, up to October 12th, when I began the action—I filed an affidavit, intending to proceed under Order 14—the prisoner then filed an affidavit, and I filed a statement of claim—the action was tried this year before Mr. Justice Wright, without a jury—the defendant gave evidence, and I got judgment, with costs, and got possession the same day—he was in the act of moving his goods when the sheriffs officer appeared—I never got any rent.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I had two trade references—they were not forgeries, but I could not find one of them and were strictly, your receipts for rent—I gave you notice to quit on 24th June—you had then only paid £2 10s. off the March rent—these receipts are my writing—I said if your rent was paid by March 25th I would allow you 10s. off but it was not paid till July 5th—this £1 paid was on account of rent due on 24th June, as also was the £1 paid on 15th July; in fact, I received £2 on the quarter—on 27th July, when the brokers entered your house, you owed me £8 7s. 6d.—the case came before the Master of the Rolls, and he gave judgment—I obtained an ejectment order against you, but not in the High Court—I deny that the case was before the High Court three times.
Re-examined. I made inquiries about the receipts and found they were forged.
DONALD SULLIVAN . I live at Brixton—on Midsummer Day, 1892, I went with Mr. Flower to 37, Water Lane—I stood at the gate and saw him hand the notice to the prisoner, who said the house did not suit him, and he intended to leave it—I know it was a notice to quit, because I saw Mr. Flower write it.
Cross-examined. I stood about eight yards off—it was between eight and nine o'clock—Mr. Flower and I caught the 9. 30 train—I could not see him knock at the door, as it is at the side—there are only windows in the front.
Re-examined. Wherever the door is I saw the prisoner reading the notice.
THOMAS SALTER . I am a clerk in the Central Office, High Court of Justice—I produce the original writ of October 9th, 1892—the terms are by the defendant's solicitor, and the affidavit is sworn on 31st October, 1892—it states that no notice to quit has ever been served on him.
Prisoner's Defence: "I solemnly swear I never received any notice to quit; I never saw such a thing in my house. I was charged with forgery, but they have withdrawn that matter. I was out for an hour and a half, and when I came back my goods were taken. My daughter had to appear, and the next day she died without one minute's warning."
The prisoner called
ALFRED RONAN . I went to the house and asked for your papers, and you gave them to me—you gave me every information in your power—I have heard several complaints about your conduct in a betting-house, and not paying any rent.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
(649). JOHN SQUIRES (20) and ROBERT M'KENZIE (19) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joseph Henry Bentley, and stealing two coats and other articles, his property, having both been before convicted.
SQUIRES— Twelve Months' Hard Labour; M'KENZIE— Three Years Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 24TH, 1893.