CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
TWELFTH SESSION, HELD OCTOBER 16TH, 1893.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
AND CASES COMMITTED UNDER THE WINTER ASSIZE ACT AND
ORDERS IN COUNCIL,
Held on Monday, October 16th, 1893, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. STUART KNILL , BART., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARTHUR CHARLES , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., Alderman of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Sir JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., Sir WALTER HENRY WILKINS , Knt., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut. Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., and WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., other Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LLD., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., Alderman.
JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Esq., Alderman
CLARENCE R. HALSE, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
KNILL, MAYOR. TWELFTH 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, October 16th, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
ARTHUR WILLIAMSON . I am a financial broker, of 85, Coleman Street—on 15th July the defendant called on me—he was a stranger—he pro-duced a card of Mr. Mortimer, my tailor—at the same time he produced this cheque on the Birkbeck Bank for £300, drawn by C. W. Palmer, payable to H. J. Piggott, or bearer—he said he was in great need of a sum of money that day, and he asked me if I would cash this cheque for him, making him a small advance; he was sure that the drawer, Mr. Palmer, would satisfy it—this was before banker's order—he said the cheque was not to be presented before Monday—I said it was a business I did not care about doing—he pressed me very hard, and said £20 would be a great convenience to him, he had come with a good introduction, and that my tailor would not have sent him if he was not perfectly safe—at the end of the conversation I gave him a cheque for £20—it was presented at my bankers', and duly honoured; it is endorsed by the defendant—he did not disclose to me the fact that he was an undis-charged bankrupt; I afterwards ascertained that fact—in the following week I went to Scotland; on my return I consulted my solicitor, and took these proceedings—I paid the £300 cheque into my bank, and it was dis-honoured.
Cross-examined by the defendant. You did not ask me to hold over the cheque to give the bookmaker time to collect his accounts at Tatter-sail's, and get sufficient money to meet the cheque—I did not say to you, "This is a speculative kind of business, and if I make any advance I
must charge £10 for it"—I am a money-lender, and charge a high rate of interest—this was not a speculative transaction—I may have considered it so, but I did not say so—I did not charge you anything; you suggested a fee of six guineas, and I accepted it.
By the COURT. He told me that the cheque related to betting matters.
GEORGE B. W. DIGBY . I am a solicitor of 59, Coleman Street—I am solicitor to Mr. Williamson—by his direction I wrote to the defendant, asking for an explanation, after that he called on me—after some con-versation, I turned to a copy of Stubbs' Gazette, and said, "I see here that you are an undischarged bankrupt"—he said "Yes, I was."
Cross-examined. I did not write to you in the hope of getting you to repay the money; it was to get an explanation, and for no other cause—I should not have taken the money if you had offered it, not after taking proceedings—I did not agree last Friday to accept £50, and to offer no evidence against you—I said if the drawer of the cheque came and offered £50, we should accept it as respects our claim—you then asked how that would affect the prosecution—I said it had nothing to do with that, we must go on with the case.
The prisoner, in his defence, alleged that he was acting in the matter on behalf of a friend who wanted the money for a racing transaction, and that he never touched a shilling of it.
GUILTY .—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY. Judgment respited.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
WILLIAM WHIGHT . I am superintendent of the Central Telegraph Office, St. Martin's Le Grand—about 9.25 on 13th September I was in Broad Street; I was carrying a bag in my right hand and this overcoat on my left arm—the prisoner assaulted me, and snatched my watch and chain and ran away—I ran after him, and called out, "Stop thief!"—a potman close by very promptly followed, and captured him in London Wall, and he was given into custody—I went to the station, and there identified my watch and chain.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (218 City). About half-past nine on 13th September I was in Winchester Street on duty, and I saw the prisoner running towards me, and putting his right hand in his pocket; I stopped him after a chase—he was very violent—I held him until another constable arrived—I assisted in taking the prisoner to the station—he was searched in the street, and this watch and chain were found on him.
Cross-examined. I did not see you take the watch and chain—you tore up your clothing in the cells, two of which you damaged—I was by you holding your shoulder when the watch was taken from you by Egan.
By the COURT. It took six men to take him to the station.
PATRICK EGAN . I saw the prisoner struggling with two policemen in London Wall—I searched and found in his outside coat pocket a gold watch and chain, which the prosecutor identified at once—the prisoner appeared
to be sober, but he was very excited, and fought violently—there was a pocket to his coat—lie tore all his clothes up as soon as he got into the station, and broke the cells; he was very violent.
THOMAS MASON (647 K). On 13th September I was in Broad Street in plain clothes—I saw the prisoner push the prosecutor with both hands and run away—I followed him, and assisted in arresting him—it took six men to get him to the station—the prisoner kicked me on the leg, gave me two blows in the stomach, and seized me by the throat, almost choking me—he tore my necktie off, and the buttons off my waistcoat.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I don't know anything about it."
The prisoner was further indicted for having been convicted of felony in the name of John Butterfield on 12th July, 1892.
JOHN COOK (Warder). I was present at the South London Sessions, at Newington, on 12th July, 1892, when the prisoner was sentenced to fourteen months—I have no doubt that he is the man; he went by the name of John Butterfield; I know him well.
GUILTY**— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
838. WALTER PIERSON (20) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a post packet and 27s. 6d., the goods of the Postmaster-General, he being em-ployed under the Post Office. The prisoner received a good character.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
839. RICHARD EDWARD CARBERY , to forging and uttering receipts for 10s. and 20s., and also to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing three postal orders for £1 each, the property of the Postmaster-General.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited in order that a witness to character might be present.
840. SIDNEY HALL BEECHING (27) , to four indictments for feloniously issuing money orders, the property of the Postmaster-General; and to stealing £200, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed in the Post Office.— Six Months! Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
841. ALFRED EDWARD PERRY , to stealing while employed in the Post Office a post letter containing gold earrings, and to stealing another letter containing three postal orders, each for 5s., the property of the Post-master-General.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
842. HENRY GILBERT TAYLOR (46) , to stealing while employed in the Post Office a letter containing brooches and orders for the payment of money, the property of the Postmaster-General.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 16th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
843. CHARLES WILLIAM GENNERY and WILLIAM LAUDERDALE PLEADED GUILTY to conspiring to defraud the Guardians of the Hamlet of Mile End Old Town of £468 4s. 9d. and £87 10s. 5d. (The prosecutors recommended Gennery to mercy.)— Judgment respited. And
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
LELIE FRANCES JESSOP . My father keeps the Half Moon and Stare, St. George's-in-the-East—I was serving there on 14th September—the prisoner came in at a little after ten o'clock for half-a-pint of shandy, and gave me this shilling—I gave him the change and took it to my father, who felt it and came into the bar—the prisoner had then gone, leaving; the liquor untasted.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. Another man came in about a minute after you.
EDWARD FULLER . I am a labourer: I live at 3, Starch Road, St. George's-in-the-East—on September 14th I was at the Half Moon and Stars, and saw the prisoner pay a shilling—another man called for some-thing and put down a penny—the other man put his hand in his pocket and passed something to the prisoner—I left them up the court and went to Mr. Jessop, and afterwards to the Wellington Public-house, and saw the prisoner there—I saw him arrested.
Cross-examined. It was quite dark, ten p.m.; I was ten yards from you; you were up the court and I was at the bottom—there was a lamp up the court and at the public-house.
HENRY ALLAM (219 H). The prisoner was given into my custody at the Wellington; I told him the charge—he said, "You have made a mistake, governor"—on the way to the station he put his hand in his pocket and took out this shilling and five pence—I handed the shilling to Jessop—he said that the bad shillings Mere given to him and he was trying to get rid of them.
ANNIE REDDALL . My husband keeps the Duke of Wellington—on September 14th I served the prisoner with a glass of ale, price one penny; he gave me a shilling—I touched it and said, "This won't do, old man," and he gave me a good sixpence.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I drew ten shillings of a bookmaker, and I cannot say whether I had it from him or in change. I had live shillings and two half-crowns. I have witnesses to prove it."
GUILTY.**— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, October 17th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
847. EDWARD BREWIS (53) , to unlawfully concealing part of his property, within two months of an unsatisfied order against him, with intent to defraud his creditors.— Discharged on recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
848. HIPPOLITE GOUGIT (48), and CHARLES DE BUC (26), to unlawfully conspiring to obtain money by false pretences. GOUGIT— Six Months' Hard Labour. DE BUC— Ten Month Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
849. THOMAS WILSON (22) , to breaking and entering the shop of William Mark Biggs, with intent to steal; also to breaking and entering the same dwelling-house, and stealing gas fittings and other articles.— Twelve Month' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
850. DOROTHY MAUD CROFT (21) , to forging and uttering an order for the payment of £1,000, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a ring and other articles of Emilia Amelia Ferries Taylor, her mistress, in her dwelling-house.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
851. CHARLES HENRY LINGWOOD (31), HENRY SMITH (33), JOHN DALE (39), and JOSEPH DINNETT (40) , to two indictments for stealing and receiving leather cloth, and other goods, of John Thomas Whitley and others, their masters. LINGWOOD— Seven Months' Hard Labour. SMITH— Eight Months' Hard Labour. DALE— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. DINNETT— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
HENRY HANCOCK . On the afternoon of September 29th I was on duty in Broad Street in plain clothes, and saw the prisoners and two men not in custody, walking together—I spoke to Shepherd, and we followed them through several streets to Finbury Pavement, where I said to Myers, "I shall take you in custody on suspicion; I have been watching you some time"—he made no reply—Shepherd took something from his. pocket—I took him to Moor Lane Station, and Hart was brought in and charged with having counterfeit coin knowingly—the inspector asked him if he was going to give any account—Hart said he had just picked them up in Moorgate Street—Myers said that Hart gave him one—I did not see Hart pick up anything in the street.
Cross-examined by Hart. There were only two of us in plain clothes, but I called a constable in uniform when I got Myers in custody—I did not see you pick up anything, and I had you under observation all the time—I did not see Myers pick up anything—I lost sight of him—I found no money on either of you but the counterfeit coin.
CLEMENT SHEPHERD (City Policeman). I was with Hancock, and arrested Hart—I got him by the collar, and said, "Have you got any thing about you which you should not have?"—he made no reply—I put my hand in his right trousers pocket and took out this paper with seven counterfeit florins in it—I told him he would be charged with the unlaw-ful possession of them—he made no reply—at the station, he said that he found them in Moorgate Street.
The prisoners in their statements before the Magistrate said that they picked up the coins in Moorgate Street.
GUILTY .— Ten Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
JAMES SULLIVAN . I am a printer's labourer, of 1, Robey Street, Old Street—on September 21st, at 9.30 p.m., I was in the Castle Public-house, City Road—a man, who is not here, came in and looked round—some beer was supplied to him, and he put down 1s.—he did not drink the beer—he left and went as far as Wesley's Chapel, where the prisoner joined him, and something which I could not see passed between them—the prisoner then went into the Star, and I called a constable—he came out and joined the other man and something passed again—they went on a little way and the other man went into the Red Lion, and came out and joined the prisoner—the constable arrested the prisoner, who tried to throw some-thing from his pocket.
MARK STRATFORD (Policeman). On September 21st Sullivan called my attention to the prisoner a ad another man—the man not in custody came out of the Star Public-house—I followed him down Old Street to the Red Lion; the prisoner joined him and noticed me, and attempted to throw something from his jacket pocket—I seized his hand, and found a paper parcel containing ten counterfeit coins—I took him to the station, and found 5s. 6d. in good silver and 4s. 4d. in bronze—I charged him with having counterfeit coin, with intent to utter it—he said, "I picked the money up"—I was given a shilling at the Castle, the Red Lion, and the Star by the persons in charge of the tills.
Prisoner's defence. I picked them up in Old Street.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH STEEL . My husband keeps the Cock and Hoop, Hanbury Street, Spitalfields—on September 19th I served the prisoner with some tobacco—he tendered this florin (Produced)—it looked rather dull—I tried it in the tester, and found it was bad—I asked him if he knew it was bad—he said "No"—I asked him where he got it; he said on his rounds—I gave him in custody.
HENRY HANCOCK (Policeman). On September 28th I was with Ottway, in plain clothes, in Commercial Street, and saw the prisoner—he took this packet from his right pocket, unrolled it, and gave a coin to another man—they both looked in at a shop window—we watched them from the other side of the street—the other man went into a newspaper shop and came out and ran away and the prisoner started running—we caught him in High Street, Shoreditch—I said, "Have you got anything wrong about you I"—he said, "No"—I said, "I have been watching you some time, and saw you give a coin to another man"—he said, "I have, nothing at all about me"—I took him to the station, and saw Ottway
take this packet from his pocket containing four counterfeit florins, all of 1889, wrapped up separately—he made no reply to the charge; the Inspector asked him for a reply—he said that some man gave them to him to mind for him for a minute.
Prisoner's defence. I only had a penny, and a man came up and asked me to hold them for him.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Hard Labour ,
FREDERICK JOHN BAKER . I am a land agent, of Brixton—in June last I advertised in the Bazaar a convertible pin with diamonds and sapphires for sale, offering to accept 75s. for it, and got this letter in reply. (From. T. T. R. Garman, 20, Saxony Rood, Liverpool, offering to send a post-dated cheque for the pin)—I replied, agreeing to do so, but saying I should prefer a Poet Office order—on June 28th I received a letter enclosing a cheque on the Western Bank, Liverpool, for £3 15s., and headed, "J. T. R. Garman, importer of pianofortes"—I sent the pin to that address, and paid the cheque into my bank on the day of its date—it was returned to me marked, "Refer to drawer"—I wrote to the address given, but received no answer—I wrote again threatening to communicate with the police, but received no answer—the pin was convertible, either for a pin or a stud—I believed it was a bon?-fide cheque.
ALFRED JOHN MARTIN . I am assistant to Mr. Martin, pawnbroker, of 284, Gray's Inn Road—this pin (produced) was pawned with me on July 4th for £1 5s. in the name of John Lloyd, 9, Nelson Street—this is the duplicate I gave—I do not recognise the person.
JOHN HUTCHINGS . I am a commission agent, of Leytonstone—I advertised in the Bazaar newspaper an eighteen-carat gold watch for sale for 40s., and a chain for 29s.—on June 4th I received this letter: "20, Saxony Road, Liverpool. Mr. Garman is open to buy the lady's watch and chain, or will send post-dated cheque on approval; the N.W, Bank, Liverpool, are Mr. Garman's bankers"—I wrote back asking for a post-dated order, and got this letter with a printed heading: "Dear Sir,—I have sent you a post-dated cheque; you can either send the articles or return the cheque; I want them for a present to-morrow"—I paid the cheque into my bank on July 5th, and it was returned marked, "Refer to drawer"—I immediately wrote for the money, but got no answer—this is the watch and chain.
HENRY SALMON . I am manager to Mr. Tyler, pawnbroker, of Gray's Inn Road—this watch and chain were pledged with me on July 3rd for two guineas by a woman in the name of Jane Lloyd—this is the ticket; I have got the duplicate of it.
THOMAS CROWDAN . I am manager of the Everton branch of the Western Bank, Liverpool—in 1892 the prisoner opened an account there with £8 in the name of John Thomas Rudolph Werner—his balance after January 31st was 1s. 6d.—these two cheques were presented and dishonoured,
and eight other cheques, amounting to about £28 altogether—I have seen the cheque-book which was in the prisoner's possession, out of which these cheques came.
Cross-examined. You had your pass-book on January 30th, 1893—you did not pay in £1 10s. on July 3rd; £1 10s. was paid in on January 30th to meet a small cheque, as the balance was 1s. 6d.; we closed the account on July 8th, and charged the 1s. 6d. for keeping the account—you asked me to honour a cheque in the name of Lloyd, and I said I would pay it if the money was there.
JOHN ROBINSON (Police Sergeant G). On August 25th, I arrested the prisoner on another charge—he gave his address, 19, Wilson Street, Gray's Inn Road—I searched there and found fourteen pawn tickets, and these two among them, and the letter of June 26th, written by one of the witnesses; also a letter addressed, "My dear wife," and signed, "T. T. R. Garman," in which is this passage: "I received two pianos from Guernsey which the police sent back. I returned from Walton this day week, and there is nothing left but to raise some money. I have a banking account again. I will send you a gold watch in a few days for which I have sent a cheque, and you must try to realise the worth and buy yourself and the children some clothes"—I showed him that letter on September 9th, and he said, "I wrote that letter to my wife"—it appears to be in the same writing as the other documents put in.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that a friend owed him some money which he promised to pay into the bank for him, and that he hoped to provide for the cheques when they arrived at maturity.
He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a convcition at Chichester in October, 1888, of obtaining goods by false pretences, when he was sentenced to five years penal servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 17th, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
857. WILLIAM PENN (21), ROBERT STEVENS (38), and JOHN GILLONS (36), PLEADED GUILTY to two indictments for stealing meat of Robert P. Lambert and others. PENN and GILLONS— Nine Months' Hard Labour each. STEVENS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
ARTHUR BROOKS . I am a clerk to G. W. Harvey and Co., of 45, Frederick Street, Birmingham, jewellers—I packed up securely this watch-case with an old English silver teaspoon, and a silver charm compass, and an invoice, and addressed it to J. Cramp, jeweller, Henfield, Sussex—I took it to the post-office at Waston Lane, Birmingham, 7.15 p.m.
Cross-examined. Mr. Cramp sends us watch-cases to repair without the works—this is a very ordinary kind of watch; I see hundreds of them—we only repair cases, not the works—my employer is in a large way of business.
Re-examined. Robinson wrote down a description of this case in a book—I say this is the case because it has been repaired on the joint, and the
joint has not been finished in the same colour as the watch; the repair can be seen—the same kind of repair was on the watch I sent.
THOMAS HENRY ROBINSON . I am a clerk in the employment of Harvey and Co., Birmingham—I remember a watch-case coming from Cramp, of Henfield, Sussex—I wrote this description of it in our, book,. "J. Cramp, Henfield, 18 carat, half-hunter case, H. F., repaired joint only"—that corresponds with this case—T see the mark "H. F." inside it—this is the same watch which I saw arrive; I have no doubt at all about it.
Cross-examined. "H. F." is the maker of the case—I don't know the name—I have not seen other cases with "H. F."—some watches have initials and some have numbers; more often they have numbers than initials—we have a large number of cases passing through our hands in a year—we repair cases and jewellery, not the works of watches—our business is very large.
Re-examined. I have had no other watch-case marked "H. F." during the last twelve months with a joint to repair—I have no doubt about this case; I sent it away after it had been repaired.
WILLIAM JOHN ALICE . I am manager to Mr. Cramp, jeweller, of Henfield, Sussex—on 23rd September I sent a case containing this watch case, a spoon and a compass, to Messrs. Harvey and Co.—these are the works of the watch, and I can tell the case by the repairs—I did not receive it back till the police showed it to me—we repair works ourselves and send cases to be repaired.
Cross-examined. I know the case by the outside repairs and by the works fitting—the case is rather larger than usual, but there are a great many cases of this size—I did not notice any initials on it—it is a common form of repair of the joint—we send several cases to Birmingham to be repaired in the joint in the course of the year.
Re-examined. I have no doubt this is the case sent on 23rd September.
ROBERT AKERS . I am a sorting clerk at the Birmingham head post-office—a parcel posted at 7.10 or 7.15 p.m. at the Waston Lane post-office would be received at the head office at 8.1; if directed to Henfield, Sussex, it would be sent off from Birmingham at 12.40, and would reach London Bridge Parcels Depot at 5.20.
Cross-examined. There is no letter or parcel mail from Birmingham between 8.0 and 12.40—parcels for Henfield would be conveyed from Euston to London Bridge, and from there to Brighton, I believe—they would not go to St. Martin's-le-Grand.
JAMES HUTCHENS . I am overseer at the London Bridge Parcels Depot—I was in charge there on September 27th from live a.m. till 1.30 p.m.—the prisoner was employed there as a sorter—he would come on duty at five a.m.—the mail leaving Birmingham at 12.30 would be due to arrive at our depot at 5.15 to 5.25—the prisoner would be on duty at the depot before it arrived—on the morning of the 27th he was present on duty at the depot at five o'clock—the parcels would come in a sealed basket, which would be opened, the parcels in it would be turned out on a table and sorted for despatch—a parcel would be sent on to Henfield at 6.30—when they were taken out of the bags there were present five persons, of whom the prisoner was one—he, with the other sorters, would have access to parcels coming from Birmingham on that morning.
Depot—on the morning of 27th. I was on duty with the prisoner from 5.0 to 1.30 p.m.—about 8.50 a.m. I went out with the prisoner for about an hour—while out he showed me this watch-case, and said he had picked it up, coming to work that morning—it is in the same condition now as it was then; the glass was intact—we returned to the office—afterwards, at one o'clock, I went out with another sorter, Perkins, and the prisoner, to go home—the prisoner showed, the case to Perkins and told him he had picked it up—we passed a pawnbroker's—the prisoner said he would go in and see how much it was worth—he went in and came out, and then went back to the pawnbroker's again, and when he came out he said the pawnbroker would not lend him anything on it because he had found it.
Crow-examined. I was called at the prisoner's request at the Police-court, and so was Perkins—the prisoner had not been out of the Post Office between five and twenty minutes to nine—I have been three years at the Post Office—I and Perkins have always borne good characters.
THOMAS WEBB . I am assistant to William Robertson, a pawnbroker, of 221, High Street, Borough—on Wednesday, the 27th, at midday, the prisoner brought in this case, and asked me whether it was gold; the manager said it was, and that it was worth about £3—the prisoner went away, and returned almost immediately and asked if we would buy it—I said I could not do that because it was not his property; he had told me previously that he had found it—I said he should take it to the Police-station, and that if he was found trading with it he might get into trouble—that was about one or two o'clock.
EDWARD MARSH . I am an assistant to Mr. Moses, pawnbroker, 176, Kennington Park Road—on 27th September, about four p.m., the prisoner came in and produced this gold watch-case, and said he wanted the utmost value on it—Mr. Moses asked him in my presence where he got it from—the prisoner said he bought it at a sale-room in Gracechurch Street, four-teen months ago for 15s., with two brooches and a ring—he gave the name of Frank Howard, 8, Richmond Ten-ace, Kennington Read—Mr. Moses asked him further questions, and the prisoner ran away—I ran after him for a quarter-mile or more—I brought him back and gave him into custody.
THOMAS JONES (155 L). On the afternoon of September 27th Marsh brought the prisoner to me, and said he had been to the shop trying to pawn a watch, and that he would give him into custody—I took him back to the shop—I asked him how he came into possession of it, and what made him run away—he said, "I don't know what made me run away. I picked it up this morning at twenty minutes past five in the Kennington Park Road. I work at the Post Office. I have a good character there"—he made the same remark when charged.
JOSEPH GEORGE STEVENS . I am a clerk in the Confidential Enquiry Branch of the General Post Office—the prisoner was arrested on Sep-tember 27th, and I went to his address, 8, Cambridge Street, Camberwell, on Tuesday last, October 10th, when he was remanded on bail—he was not known at 8, Richmond Terrace, Fentiman Road, Clapham—I said, "You will be charged with stealing a parcel while in transit from Birmingham to Henfield, containing a gold watch-case, silver teaspoon, and charm compass. The parcel mail containing those articles did not
arrive at London Bridge until 5.20 a.m. on September 27th, and you were then on duty"—he said, "I cannot help what you say, sir. I did not steal it. I found the watch-case, as I said before, in the Kennington Park Road, on my way to the office that morning; there was nothing else with it, and I know nothing of the other articles"—I was at the station when he wan charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. On the day of the first hearing I went to the prisoner's house; I found no other property there.
The prisoner received a good character. GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, October 18th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GEORGE SLATER . I am a scientific instrument maker, of 40, Wilmington Square, Clerkenwell—the prisoner is my brother—lived in some rooms in Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell, with his wife and two children, the deceased girl and a little boy—the prisoner for many years worked for Mr. Peroni, up to April this year—in that month he went into Bartholomew's Hospital, to undergo an operation—he was suffering from a tubercular disease—on his return home I saw a change in him—he lived on very good terms with his wife, and was very fond of his children—after that operation he seemed very vacant—he did not seem the same young man—he said the wound would not heal up—he was discharged after six weeks—he seemed disheartened on account of it non healing up—he said he might as well be out of it as living; he would never be any good—that was the only remark he passed to me—his child was very delicate—he said it was a pity it could not get better—I persuaded him that she might grow out of it—she had two abscesses, on the loin the prisoner thought that she suffered in the same way as himself—he seemed to be very anxious about her—I noticed that he seemed to get thinner and nervous—I knew of his going away from home—I don't know where he went to; till he came back, he was away six weeks—I saw him on his return—he seemed very thin and very untidy—he came to my place, and he seemed to eat more like a beast than a human being; he would eat anything he got hold of ravenously—I saw him on Saturday, September 2nd, and I tried to induce him to go out with me a little, it would change his mind; he would not—I took him out on Friday evening—on his return home I saw him upstairs; he seemed all excitement—on the Sunday afternoon, from something I heard, I went to the house in Exmouth Street, and saw the deceased child lying in the yard in a pool of blood, and I saw a razor, similar to one my brother had—when he returned home I endeavoured to find out from him where he had been or what he had been doing—I could get nothing from him; he seemed ashamed of himself, ashamed of people seeing him.
HUGH PUGH (30 E R). On September 3rd, at twenty minutes to four I was on duty at the door at Bow Street Police-station—the prisoner came up to me and said, "I have murdered my child Daisy in Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell, and I wish to give myself up"—I took him in to Sergeant Arnold—he then made a statement in Arnold's presence.
ALFRED ARNOLD (Sergeant 3 E). About twenty minutes to four on September 3rd I was in charge at Bow Street Police-station when the prisoner was brought in by the last witness—I wrote down what he said—he said, "I have murdered my daughter Daisy at 18, Exmouth Street Clerkenwell, where I live"—I at once cautioned him, and reduced hi statement to writing, which I rend over to him, and he signed it—this it: "I, Arthur Slater, 18, Exmouth Street, Clerkenwell, wish to state that I have murdered my daughter Daisy at 18, Exmouth Street, by cutting her throat with a razor at abort 3.15 that day. I show you my right hand, which is stained with blood; the white pocket handerchief" (produced) "is stained with blood. I wiped the back of my fingers on it"—that is signed by the prisoner and the witness—he showed me the handker-chief; I produce it—there was slight blood on his hand—after making this statement he gave me this razor, saying, "You will find the razor along-side the child in the cellar."
SAMUEL PARLETT (Inspector G). At four o'clock on the 3rd September, I received information and went to 18, Exmouth Street—I went into the basement and found the dead body of a child, lying near the back door; the child was about three and a half years of age; its throat had been cut; she was dead—the body was warm; it had not been dead very long—this razor was alongside of the child's head; there was blood on it—I sent for Dr. Miller, who examined the body—I afterwards went to Bow Street Station, and there saw the prisoner—I asked him if his name was Arthur Slater—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I shall take you into custody on a charge of wilfully murdering your daughter, Daisy, at 18, Exmouth Street"—he replied, "Yes, sir."
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLER . I am divisional surgeon to the police—on Sunday, 3rd September, about half-past four, I went to 18, Exmouth Street—in the basement there I saw the dead body of this little girl—there was a wound across the throat from ear to ear—such a wound would cause death—I made a post-mortem—the cause of death was loss of blood, syncopy—I found that the child had suffered from abscess in the groin—I had a conversation with the prisoner the same afternoon before he was charged—he was very much depressed, and at first refused to have any conversation—he afterwards said he was suffering from a horrible disease; and in answer to my question he said he was suffering from tubercular disease of the testes; that one of his testes had been removed at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—he then said that his little girl was suffering from a similar disease, that he understood she could not live long, and that she had been a terrible trial to her mother since her birth—I noticed his eyes—his expression was very vacant; the pupils of his eyes were rather unequal, and did not answer well to the stimulus of light—I formed an opinion as to the condition of his mind then; it was that he was at that time unable to control himself, or to know that he was doing an illegal act—I mean that he was unable to distinguish right from wrong; I do not think that he had sufficient control over his mind to know he was
doing a wrong act—I mean he had not control over himself—I think he was scarcely capable of appreciating the nature of the act.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT . I am medical officer at Holloway Prison—the prisoner was under my observation since he came there on 8th September—he has been in hospital all that time; he was generally in a despondent, miserable condition—he told me he had contemplated suicide, and if he had a chance he would no doubt carry it out—he said he thought it was due to him, that the child inherited the disease from him, and that he ought not to have married; he felt ashamed of himself—he was undoubtedly fond of his children, a very affectionate father—I know the facts of the case thoroughly—I think at the time he was un-doubtedly insane and not responsible, not able to appreciate the act he was doing, or to know that it was a wrong act.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Prosecuted.
WILLIAM HENRY HUTCHINSON (661 A). On August 14th, about 2.40 a.m., I was on duty in Grosvenor Road, near Millbank, and saw four men sitting on a seat—I said, "Now you men, we have got no sleeping accom-modation here"—one of them said, "This is the bleeder," and they all came round me like dogs, took hold' of me, and pressed the small of my back very hard against the wall, and then threw me over the wall into the river—there was between four and five feet of water—I took hold of one of the piles, and went from one pile to another till I got to the steps, and went straight to the station, reported the matter, and was placed under medical treatment at once—I was confined to my bed till September 6th—I cannot positively swear to either of the prisoners, but I picked out Smith from several other men—the other men on the seat were of the labouring class, but it was dark—I had not ordered anyone from that seat that night, but I had during the week before—another constable would meet me on the same beat, but he was not there; he went off at ten o'clock.
GEORGE HUTTON (359 G). On August 24th I was on duty in Curtain Road, Shoreditch—the prisoner Bailey came up to me and said, "I have come to give myself up"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "I expect you have heard about it; I am one of those four that threw the policeman into the Thames; the reason for giving myself up is because I cannot rest"—I took him to the station.
THOMAS WRIGHT (Policeman). I was on duty at the station on the morning of 24th August, when Hutton brought Bailey in—he was per-fectly sober, and appeared to understand what he was saying—he was not at all excited—he made a statement; I took it down, and he put his mark to it—I told him first that whatever he said I should take down. (This stated that he had come to London in search of work and being tired, went to sleep on the Embankment with others; that the policeman disturbed them, which annoyed them, and in the struggle the policeman was thrown
over the Embankment)—he was charged—he gave me a description of the other two men, who he did not know, but it was very vague.
Gross-examined by Bailey. You said that you threw him over the bridge—I concluded that you did not know the difference between the bridge and the wall; there is an embankment there.
JOHN WRIGHT . I am Inspector of the Oxfordshire Constabulary at Beddington—on 21st September, about four p.m., Smith came to the station—I asked what he wanted—he said, "I have come to give myself up for assisting in throwing a constable into the River Thames early on Monday morning, about three weeks ago"—I saw he was sober, and apparently sane—I said, "I shall have to take your statement down in writing, and it will be given in evidence against you"—he said, "I know that"—he mentioned the name Hutchings—I wrote his statement down, and he signed it—this is it: "I, Thomas William Smith, of 9, Stonehouse Street, wish to give myself, up for throwing Police-constable Hutchinson over the Thames Embankment six weeks ago; I took hold of his leg, and we threw him over the parapet into the river"—I communicated with Scotland Yard, and he was taken away next morning.
DAVIS (Police Inspector, A). In consequence of a communi-cation from the Oxfordshire Constabulary I went to Beddington Station on September 6th, and saw Smith there—Wright handed me the state-ment he had made—I read it to him—he said, "Yes, that is quite correct"—I said, "I am a police officer, and shall take you into custody for, with a man in custody, throwing Police-constable Hutchinson into the Thames on August 4th"—he said, "All right,"—on the way to the station he said he was starving, and had not anything to eat for two days, and that, being annoyed at the policeman disturbing them, he took hold of one of his legs and, with the others, helped to throw him over the parapet into the river—he seemed quite calm and collected—the charge was read over to him at the station; he made no reply.
WILLIAM MONROE GELLY . I am surgeon to the A Division—I saw Hutchinson on Monday, August 14th, at 5.15 a.m.—he complained of pain in the right side of his back—I examined it and found the muscles extremely tender, so much so that when touched they involuntarily con-tracted, and there was a little swelling, so that he had difficulty in move-ment—I put him on the sick list, and some hours afterwards I visited him and found him in bed and unable to move, and his back was very much swollen, and next morning there was a great deal of discoloration—I do not think he was able to turn at all in bed before August 24th or 25th, and it was September 4th or 5th before he was able to get out of bed—he is not able to do his duty yet—the condition I saw him in would be produced by his being violently pushed against the parapet, especially if he was bent back in that direction—there were marks on his tunic and belt, showing that there had been considerable force.
Smith's defence. I can prove that I was in the Tottenham Ward at Chatham, and I left four days before I gave myself up. I was in the Chatham Union in my own name. I wish to call the labour master; I do not know his name. He has my name down as Thomas Cawthorne, bill poster.
Bailey's defence. I was in Whitechapel when it happened.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, October 18th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and ABRAHAMS Prosecuted.
FRANCIS JOHN DAY . I am a solicitor, practising at 11, Bell Yard—I was admitted in 1870—I first became acquainted with the prisoner about September, 1890, when she came to my office with reference to the admin-istration action of Goodwin v. Hooper and Large, then pending—the prisoner was a defendant in that action, which had reference to the admin-istration of her first husband Goodwin's estate—ah order was made on February 27th, 1891, committing her to Holloway for contempt in having broken into 1, Walpole Road, Croydon, a house in the hands of the receiver, Mr. Henderson—on 18th March, 1891, the prisoner surrendered at Holloway Prison—on her instructions I made several motions to the Court for her release—they were refused, because she had not purged her contempt—I saw her and her brother with reference to her purging her contempt and being released—I received this letter of 28th March from her from Holloway. (This asked him to bring a Commissioner next week in order that she might swear an affidavit that she had no books or papers belonging to the testator, and to request Mr. Meikell to send her £5 at once; and after referring to oilier matters, it stated that she enclosed a clique which fie (Day) was to give Meikell, who was to pay to the Receiver £500 before Faster was ever, on Tuesday, if possible)—that letter enclosed this cheque for £400, signed Sappho and Co., the name under which the prisoner was trading. (This cheque was payable to, and endorsed P. Henderson)—at the Police-court the prisoner admitted that that was her cheque—it is in her writing, which I know—I also received from her this letter of 30th March from Holloway Prison—the 29th was Easter Sunday, and I was away for a holiday at the time. (The letter of 30th asked for the £5 from Mr. Meikell to be forwarded at once, and inquired whether the £400 cheque for Mr. Henderson had been received, as if not it was to be stopped at the bank)—in reply I wrote these two letters of 31st March. (Acknow-ledging the receipt of the two letters and the cheque from the prisoner)—I handed the £400 cheque to the prisoner's brother, Mr. Meikell, and he was to find the other £100, and give me the £500 to pay into Court—that arrangement was made between me and Meikell in consequence of the instructions I received from the prisoner in her letter of 28th March—I did not go with Meikell to the Receiver; I left the £400 cheque with him, and he was to see me the following day and bring me £500—a few days afterwards I paid in Meikell's cheque for £500; this is the receipt from the Bank of England, dated 10th April—at the time that money was paid into Court there was Hooper's judgment against her in the Chancery proceedings—Mrs. Hooper was the landlady of 2, Northwick Terrace, Maida Vale—her action was for rent due from the prisoner as administratrix. (An office copy of the judgment was put in, showing verdict for plaintiff for £43 5s., costs £135 13s. 10d., which had been taxed and allowed)—I also produce the chief clerk's certificate showing that she owed as administratrix debts amounting to £707 10s. 1d.—in addition she had incurred other debts in respect of costs in the
Chancery proceedings, which she was liable to pay; they amounted to some hundreds—after the £500 was paid into Court an order for her release was made on 16th April, 1891—in support of the application she swore an affidavit, of which this is an office copy, dated 6th April, (In this affidavit the prisoner swore that she had paid into Court £500, and was prepared to pay into Court such sums as were necessary to discharge the, claims of the plaintiff and taxed costs, and the costs of the committal order; that she had delivered over into the hands of the Receiver the title deeds of 1, Walpode Road, and Westbury, Beaver Hill, Southampton, and she apologised for her unintentional contempt of Court)—after her release she discharged me as her solicitor—I sued her on my bill of costs—she defended the action, and set up a counter claim—I got judgment against her for £130 and costs in February, 1892—she alleged that I had been guilty of fraud and negligence as her solicitor—the issue was tried by a jury in the High Court, and decided in my favour—to enforce the judgment, I got this order, directing that certain deeds of her Southampton property should be delivered over to the Sheriff of Southampton—I could not get payment; there was nothing to levy on—the Sheriff of Southampton held an inqui-sition under the writ of elegit, and after the inquisition had been held the deeds were handed to me on 28th March, 1893—I obtained an order from Mr. Justice Chitty for the sale of the Southampton property—in order to give effect to the order after it was granted, I had to make frequent attendance at the Chief Clerk's Chambers, and frequently met Mrs. Large there; she appeared and opposed the order—pending those proceedings she called at my office and abused me, and threatened to break my windows and my head if I did not give up the deeds to her—I took out a summons, which was heard at the Mansion House on 26th May, to have her bound over to keep the peace, and she was bound over in £50 for six months—about two or a quarter-past two on 24th May, while that sum-mons was pending, she came to my office with a policeman, and gave me into custody for stealing the deeds and the cheque for £400—she told the policeman I had stolen them—I was taken in custody, with the policeman, the prisoner, and another woman, in a cab to John Street, Paddington, Police-station—I was charged before the inspector with stealing the deeds and the cheque—he would not take the charge—then we walked to St. Mary's, Paddington Green; the police sergeant insisted on my going with him—the prisoner asked him to take me to another Police-station, and he complied with her desire—at the second Police-station the inspector took the charge against me of obtaining the £400 cheque—I applied to be released on bail; the inspector refused, and I passed the rest of the day and the whole of the night in the Police-station—I told him that another inspector a few yards off had refused to take the charge, and yet he refused bail—next morning I was brought before Mr. Hannay, the Magistrate at Marylebone; there were three hearings—Mr. Hannay let me out on bail at the first—on 8th June the charge was dismissed—I saw the prisoner sworn, and heard her give evidence at the Marylebone Police-court—she said I had obtained the £400 from her by fraud; that there was nothing owing by her to any-body at the time; that I had stolen the deeds from her; and that the money she sent was not the money paid into Court—her attention was called to the letter of 28th March, and the other letters—she said it was
not the same money that was paid into Court, and that the £400 was no portion of the £500—she said I had conspired with several others to defraud her, and that Mr. Henderson's name on the cheque had been forged—I had not made any false representations to her, nor had I been guilty of any fraud in obtaining the cheque from her, nor had I used any threats towards her to induce her to give me the cheque—on the "day after the charge was dismissed against me the prisoner came again with a constable to my office, and gave me in charge for stealing the deeds—I had, only been charged before Mr. Hannay with stealing the £400—I was I marched through the streets to Bow Street by a policeman in uniform on 9th June—I told the constable that I had been discharged the day before—he did not take any notice of what I said—at Bow Street the prisoner I charged me with stealing the deeds—I sent for my solicitor, who made an explanation, and the inspector refused to take the charge, and I was released.
HENRY WITHERINGTON . I am clerk to the Magistrate at Marylebone Police-court—I was present when the charge was made against Mr. Day by the prisoner of having stolen or obtained the £400 from her by fraud—these are the original depositions I took on 25th May, and 1st and 8th of June—it was read over to her; she did not sign it, because the case was dismissed—when it was read to her she did not object to its accuracy. (The prisoner's deposition, and the office copy of the order committing her to Holloway were read)—this is the charge-book at Marylebone; it states that the charge was obtaining £400 from Annie Ada Large by false and faudulent pretences.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I do not remember Mr. Day's counsel saying that you owed £500, and had to pay it in order that you should be released from Holloway—Mr. Doveton Smyth attended, and you said you had instructed counsel—Mr. Sidney Strong, a barrister, attended for you on one occasion.
Re-examined. Mr. Doveton Smyth appeared with Mr. Strong on the 1st, and by himself on the 8th June, to conduct the case for the pro-secution.
FREDERICK MULOW . I am an usher at the Marylebone Police-court—I was at the Court on 25th May and 1st June, when Mrs. Large, the prisoner, gave evidence—I duly administered the oath to her on each occasion.
Cross-examined. The copy of the depositions which you got would be right.
FRANCIS JOHN DAY (Recalled, cross-examined by the prisoner). On the application for your release, Mr. Justice Chitty suggested that there should be a payment into Court—I applied by counsel, by your direction—I do not think the Judge named the figure, but he suggested a substantial sum—the application was renewed several times—the £500 was paid in, and then I applied on your instructions for your release, and it was stated that the amount was paid into Court, and the receipts and affidavits were pro-duced—after one or two other applications, because you had not given up the books, your release was ordered—I told Meikell on the 29th March, 1891, that the money directed by Mr. Justice Chitty to be paid ought to be paid—you did not go into Holloway till 18th March—the deeds were handed up to the Court, and the £500 paid to release you—I do not think
the deeds were handed up on 17th March—I did not show you any cheque for £500 dated 3rd March or 17th March, 1891, nor did I then suggest any money being paid—I advised you to make a deed of gift to Robert Meikell of all you possessed in order to pay your creditors; you never executed it—I wanted you to sign it on the 18th March—this is the deed of gift of your property to Meikell which I prepared; you never executed it—your signature appears on it now, I think—the deed was in my office on 17th and 18th, and was never executed—I handed it to you on the 18th, and you refused to execute it, and took it away with you to Holloway Prison; you went with the tipstaff from my office to the prison—I did not show you a cheque for £500 on 17th March—the deed of gift was to be in consideration of Meikell paying your debts, and Hooper, too, I believe—my clerk Corry is dead—Meikell under took to pay my costs and all other costs before he took anything—he has paid me for what I did for him up to that date—what he did was for your benefit—he paid me about £40; I don't know where he got the money—that was for about a month or six weeks, I believe—I did not swear at Marylebone that there was an order for you to pay £500—I was acting for you, and for Mr. Meikell, for your benefit—I did not charge fees to you both for interviews—I believe Meikell handed the deeds to Henderson or his solicitors, Messrs. Blair and Girling, in Court in March; it may have been on the 17th—I never told Meikell that if he did not hand up the deeds you would be detained as a Chancery prisoner for all your life—I never threatened you—I did with the cheque what you told me to do in the letter—the money never went to Mr. Henderson, I believe, because it went into Court—I should say at that time a great deal more than £400 was owing by you to Hooper for the costs for the judgment—the judgment was only against you as executrix—Meikell gave me a cheque for £500—I don't know where the £100 came from, but the £400 came from the cheque you had signed "Sappho and Co."—Meikell' went with me to pay it into Court—I wrote to Mr. Freake Palmer, on your brother's instructions, telling him not to act as your solicitor, because I was acting for you—your brother told me to write and tell him to do nothing for you,' as I was still acting for you—you never instructed me to write to him—I heard Mr. Henderson swear at the Police-court that he never authorised the endorsement to the cheque, and also that he would have had his commission out of it—he did not say that he had been robbed out of his commission—I have seen a copy of Goodwin's will—it was said the estate was insolvent—you instructed me to write on 12th March, 1891, to Mr. Batchelor, telling him not to allow Mr. William Large, your husband, to have the furniture that he had illegally entered 1, Walpole Road and taken—you represented he had been and taken some of your furniture—on 28th May, 1892, the Sheriff seized some things of yours, under my order for my bill of costs, which you would not pay—I levied no execution on you in March, 1891—I did not refuse to allow you the use of a nightdress when you came out of Holloway—I did not turn your old mother out—you came out of Holloway on 16th April, 1891—there were divorce proceedings against your husband—Mr. Justice Chitty made a receiving order against Goodwin's estate, but I know nothing about it, as I was not acting for you at the time. (The prisoner put in the order)—the Official Solicitor asked me to see him—they had
made numerous motions to attach you for contempt of Court—I did the best I could for you—you said that the £100 supplied by Meikell was from rents he had received—I know nothing about it—an ex parte injunction was granted for a week by the Lord Chief Justice in December, 1892—I did not get a copy of the injunction till the following day—on 9th December I attended with Mr. Sayer and Mr. Girling before Registrar Leech to settle the terms of an order—you have issued two writs against me, and others as well—a statement of claim was delivered last Saturday—I suppose one writ was taken out on 8th June, and the injunction was granted on 8th December following—you applied to Mr. Justice Wright for an injunction; the application was dismissed—I got a writ of elegit against you.
Re-examined. On 8th June, 1892, she issued a writ against me and against Messrs. Blair and Girling and others, claiming damages for trespass, false imprisonment, conversion of her goods, libel and slander, and conspiring to defraud her of property, including the £500 paid into Court—that is the same £500—I think in that action that the statement of claim was delivered on Saturday—on 4th May, this year, she commenced another action against me, and against Messrs. Blair and Girling, and other persons, claiming delivery of jewellery, title deeds relating to this property, and £400 received from her and retained by me; that is the same £400—there was no statement of claim or anything else in that action—the order for committal to Holloway recites that, in addition to the prisoner, her mother, Mrs. Meikell, was also committed to prison for contempt for helping the prisoner to commit this breaking into the house—to save the old lady these deeds were handed over by the prisoner on 17th March in Court, and on account of that, and the mother's age, the judge dissolved the order against her—the £500 was the amount agreed on between me and the solicitors on the other side as being a proper amount to be paid into Court—the deed of gift had nothing to do with that £500—it turned out that Goodwin's estate was more than solvent, enough to pay all the debts and leave a large balance.
ROBERT MEIKELL . I am the prisoner's brother—I am a tea-taster—I knew that Mr. Day was acting as her solicitor when she was committed to prison in March, 1891, and from time to time he told me what would have to be done in order to get her out—I saw her once in prison; that was before receiving the £400 cheque, I believe—before Mr. Day handed me this cheque for £400 an arrangement was made between the prisoner, me, and Mr. Day; I understood from Mr. Day that the order was that no application for a release would be recognised till £500 was paid into Court, and the deeds delivered up in Court—when he handed me this cheque for £400 I paid it into my banking account at Croydon, after endorsing Mr. Henderson's name on the back, as it was payable to him; but when I went with Mr. Day and paid it in, I also paid in my cheque for £500 at the Bank of England, so that I was £100 out of pocket—before the bankers collected the £400 the £500 was paid into the Bank of England, payable to the Paymaster-General, for the purpose of its being applied to effect the prisoner's release—that cheque was duly honoured—I had about £109 standing to my account at the time, of my own money—I heard afterwards that she had been released from prison—she showed her gratitude to me by bringing an action for forgery
against me at Bow Street; they would not grant a warrant, but issued a summons—I was brought up at Bow Street, and charged with forgery—the magistrate dismissed the charge—since this case was adjourned in July she has summoned meat Croydon on a charge of stealing two deeds—I attended there a week or two ago; she said I had owned that I had taken them, and begged of her to forgive me, and they granted a summons but it was dismissed; they did not hear the defence.
Cross-examined. I heard Mr. Justice Chitty said, "I will not entertain any application for her release till the deeds are delivered up, and £500 paid into Court"—I believe that was in March, 1891; I could not say the date—when you were in Holloway you gave your keys to Mr. Day to open the box in which the deeds were, and those deeds were handed up in my presence to Mr. Justice Chitty, and the £500 was paid by me to the Bank of England and you were released—the deed of gift would have come into force if I had paid all the creditors; but after I had paid £500 into Court and you were released, you went on with the case, and Mr. Justice Chitty ordered the £500 to be paid for the case—I believed I had paid the £500 to satisfy the claims and release you—the deed of gift said it was to satisfy all creditors; if that £500 would not satisfy them all I was willing to advance more—I believed you would be detained till you should pay the money—I heard Mr. Justice Chitty order the deeds to be given up, and refuse the application for release till they were—the Official Receiver had possession of your wardrobe, in which part of your clothing was; that was in March, 1891.
Re-examined. I was in Court when the deeds were given up; in con-sequence of that my mother was not sent to prison.
ARTHUR JOHN ELY . I am a clerk at the Croydon branch of the London and County Bank—in 1891 Robert Meikell was a customer at that branch I—produce a correct copy of his ledger account during March and April, 1891, and also particulars of a credit of £407 15s. in the ledger account—the £407 15s. included this cheque for £400—on the other side of the account I find a cheque to the Paymaster-General for £500, debited to Meikell's account on 7th April; it was duly honoured.
Cross-examined. I have not got the books here, and I cannot recollect the state of the account before March.
WILLIAM BLAIR GIRLING . I am a member of the firm of Blair and Girling, solicitors, who have been in practice in the City for a number of years—we acted as solicitors for Mrs. Hooper in her action against the prisoner, and afterwards we acted in the Chancery proceedings for the administration of Goodwin's estate—I have been charged at the Police-court several times by the prisoner—I have been dragged through the streets of the City to the Police-station—on 15th July she gave me into custody at my office, and I was taken to the Police-station on the charge of stealing a box containing money and valuable securities—the box contained nothing but old letters, ledgers, and documents fifteen years old, most of which Mr. Goodwin had used in his business as a money lender—the box had come into our possession as solicitors to the Receiver; it was sent to us after the sale of the furniture by order of the Court; it was afterwards sent to the prisoner—she summoned me to Bow Street and charged me with conspiracy, and there are two actions
pending against me charging me with everything known to the law, and a good many things that are not.
Cross-examined. I was appointed as Mrs. Hooper's solicitor to admin-ister the estate of your late husband—Mr. William Sayer, as solicitor to one of the parties to the suit, consented to the administration order—I never acted as Mr. Sayer's solicitor.
The prisoner called
FREDERICK JARMAN . I am a member of the firm of Batchelor and Sons, furniture removers, Croydon—we have in our depository at Croydon furniture removed from 1, Walpole Road on 12th March, 1891, in the name of William Large—this letter of September 9th, 1893, is in my firm's writing, addressed to Mr. Doveton Smyth. (This stated that the, furniture was removed by them by Mr. W. Large's order)—on 31st January, 1891, we moved three loads of furniture from 26, Clifton Villas, to 1, Walpole Road, in the name of Meikell—we were paid by cash—on 12th March, 1891, I went into 1, Walpole Road; I cannot say by whose order, but the work we did was booked in the name of Mr. Large.
Cross-examined. I personally never heard of Mr. Day.
JANE MORSE . I am married, and live at 351, Edgware Road—my husband is a master baker out of business—I went to the sale of furniture at 1, Walpole Road, and bought pictures, crockery, and other things—most of the furniture sold is in this catalogue—I saw Mr. Day there, and I saw him counting money.
The prisoner in her defence alleged that site believed the statements she made at the Police-court to be true.
GUILTY .—The JURY added that the attention of the Police Commissioner should be called to the manner in which MR. DAY had been arrested, and to the fact that he was not admitted to bail.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
863. ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL (24), and FRANK AUBYN HOLLAND (alias HORTON) (31) , to attempting to obtain money from Henry Sager and Frederick Douglas Norman by false pretences, with intent to defraud. CAMPBELL— Discharged on recognizances. HOLLAND received a good character— Four Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
864. JOHN THOMAS (24) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Samuel Monckton, and stealing three packets of tobacco and other articles; also to a conviction of felony in January, 1893, in the name of Thomas Welch.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
865. REUBEN VERNON BROOKS , to stealing £1, the property of Albert Viner; also to stealing a watch and chain, the property of Emily Bowers, in her dwelling-house; and to stealing five scarf pins and other articles, the property of Emmanuel Restore, in the dwelling-house of Mary Ann Munch. MR. PURCELL, for the prosecution, stated that the prisoner had given information to the police concerning two oilier persons.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, and Friday, 20th, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MESSRS. CHAS. MATHEWS, HORACK AVORY, and BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended, at the request of the COURT.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER ADAMS , the younger. I am a son of William Alexander Charles Adams—my mother was the deceased Emily Maria Adams—I remember the 4th August, 1891, the day on which my mother was killed—some months before that I remember seeing my mother out in the street—it was at night, after the houses were shut; that was twelve o'clock—it was in a turning out of the Commercial Road—she and the prisoner were together; I saw them—they did not see me at first; they must have seen me coming down the street, and when they saw me they went across the road arm-in-arm together—they walked along, turning off Commercial Road under the new arch—I followed behind; I ran to catch up with them; they got together in a court, and I said to them, "Sup-posing father was coming along, what would he say?"—I rushed at Lewis and hit him on the chin—mother said to me, "Go home"—I went home, and was sitting on the doorstep when she came along—she said, "Go upstairs'—Lewis was not with her then—I did not sleep at home that night; I slept at No. 1, Batson Street; our house was No. 10—I went home next morning—I cannot tell the day of the week it was—I had seen the prisoner one Saturday before this in our house sitting down-stairs; mother was there at that time—father was not at home, and he was not at home at the time I saw the prisoner and mother in the street—I did not know where he was till afterwards—I never saw the prisoner and mother together afterwards.
Cross-examined. I lived with my mother during 1891—I only saw the prisoner in the house once—he was there about half an hour; it was in the daytime, when I came from work—father went away in July, 1891; he was away the most part of that year.
Re-examined. I was at work in the daytime.
JOHN BENJAMIN CLARK . I am a cooper's labourer, living at 10, Batson Street—the deceased was my sister—in 1891 she was living at my house—I know the prisoner—I remember 3rd August, 1891, Bank Holiday—during that day I was in the King and Queen Public-house in Three Colt Street—I went there with the prisoner; Mrs. Adams and my wife were also there—the prisoner asked Mrs. Adams to go to Greenwich with him—she said, "No, I am not going to leave my brother"—he said, "Oh, you won't, then you will suffer for this!"—that same evening we all went to the theatre together, my wife, Mrs. Adams, and the prisoner, and after-wards he walked part of the way home with us—during that time we were all on friendly, good terms.
Cross-examined. The expression, "You will be sorry for it," was in the afternoon—after that we all went to the music-hall together—
there were no angry words that evening; we parted good friends—I saw him next morning; he seemed to be in his usual spirits.
HANNAH PHŒBE CLARK . I am the wife of the last witness, and live with him at 10, Batson Street—in the beginning of 1891 the deceased was living with us—her husband was not living with her; he had been there, but he went away—I knew the prisoner by coming once to our place, that was all—on Monday, 3rd August, 1891, Bank holiday, he came to the house in the afternoon—he did not ask for anybody—Mrs. Adams was upstairs at the time—the prisoner stayed in our company till the evening, and we all went to the Pavilion Theatre together, and afterwards he walked part of the way back with us—when he parted he seemed on perfectly good terms with us all—next morning, Tuesday, 4th August, Mrs. Adams went out about half-past nine or a quarter to ten—I thought she was going for some soap and soda; it was washing-day at our house—some little time afterwards, as she was so long gone, I wont out to see for her, and I went to the Railway Tavern in Three Colt Street—I went into the private bar, and saw her standing at the private bar with her arms resting on the slab—I said to her, "Come along, Emily, the washing is to be done to-day, remember"—she said, "Go along, I won't be many minutes"—the prisoner was in the bar with her—he offered me something to drink, and I took it out of his hand—I was not in the bar many minutes—I did not see the prisoner alter his position at all while I was there; they were both standing up, not near each other—they were a distance apart while I was talking to Mrs. Adams, and my back was towards him—after waiting there about five minutes I went home—shortly after-wards a boy came and made a communication to me, and I went back to the tavern, but there was such a crowd I could not get in, and afterwards went to the hospital and there saw Mrs. Adams; she was then dead.
Cross-examined. I did not stand at the door of the private bar some time before going in; I went straight in—I did not notice any men standing under the archway—at that time people are passing to and fro; I did not notice them; it is a fairly busy neighbourhood—I did not remain in the bar many minutes; it could not have been more than five—I cannot fix the exact time that I went in; I did not look at the clock—I daresay it was somewhere about ten, or before that—while I was in the bar with the prisoner and the deceased we were friendly, but I never spoke to him—I was only in his company the day before—he appeared perfectly sane, and in his senses as far as I could judge—when I left them in the bar they were perfectly friendly; I never heard an angry word—I went straight home—I did not notice any man standing there—it was not five minutes after I got home that I heard something; it was not ten minutes—I was examined three times before the Coroner and before the Magistrate—I said before the Magistrate that it was not more than ten minutes, as well as I could remember—I had never seen the prisoner with the deceased before that day—I was living in the same house three months—I never saw any affection between them.
Re-examined. I never saw them together; I had never seen the prisoner at all before the Bank Holiday—I did not know him—on the Tuesday morning in the bar, as far as I could see, they were friendly; they did net speak together while I was there—such conversation as there was, was between me and Mrs. Adams—the prisoner did not speak
to me beyond handing me the liquor—I never spoke to him—the only talk was between me and Mrs. Adams, about the washing.
GEORGE TRUETT . I manage the Railway Tavern, Three Colt Street, Limehouse, for my father—in August, 1891, I knew the prisoner for about six months I also knew Mrs. Adams and her husband for six or seven years, as occasionally coming to the house; not very often, only as customers—I remember the prisoner coming to the house on the morning of 4th August, about ten minutes to ten—he came into the side bin in Three Colt Street, the private bar, which is entered by a swing door—there was no one else in the bar when he came in, and there was only myself behind the bar—there were no other customers in the house, only those two and me—my wife had before served him—at ten minutes to ten he called for a glass of mild and bitter; I served him—he stood near the partition which is between the public bar and the counter—he had not been there many minutes before the deceased came in, and he asked her to have a drink—she said she would have a glass of ginger wine, and she was served with it—she was standing in front of the bar—they then adjourned to the back of the bar—I did not hear any conversation after they left the counter—I left the bar to do my work—they were standing in a corner of the bar, towards the door, at a place where the shutters are placed—when I served them with the drink they stood by the counter—I went to clean my pewter, and I heard the door go slam, which I imagined to be one of the swing doors—I jumped up and looked round the corner of the partition, and saw the woman standing here (pointing to the model), and putting her hands to her breast, saying, "I am stabbed"—I immediately raised the flap of the counter and went to the front, and as I rushed out the man fell across me, and the woman fell—I called out to my wife—when I got through the flap this man stopped my progress, and I saw a man pass at that moment, side-faced—the prisoner fell across me on to the floor—I held the woman up, and called to my wife, "Gus, Gus!" which is my wife's name—it was at that moment that I saw a man passing, side-faced—I saw him through the window of the folding-door, the one to the left—that window was partly embossed; it is plate glass, partly plain; you can see through it; you can discern a person, not distinctly, passing the door—the words "Railway Tavern" are on the part that's embossed—you can see through the plain part of the glass persons passing, but not properly—at the time I saw the man passing the left-hand side of the window by the door, he was passing by the doorstep, by the window of the door—he was in the street, on the pavement, towards the Commercial Road, towards the church, on the left-hand side—he went by quickly; I could not tell if he was walking—he went by the door, and went to the coffee-shop next door—I thought I recognised the man; I thought it was Adams, but I was not sure—after he had disappeared I opened the door, and my wife came and took the deceased in her arms—I opened the door at the moment and saw a crowd of persons; I sent one man for a doctor and one for a constable—I did not give my attention to the prisoner; I had quite enough to do to look after the bar, there were such a lot of people—I could not say whether the prisoner was conscious or unconscious, or whether he spoke—some men came over who were standing near the rail-way arch—when the doctor and police came the woman and the prisoner were put into separate cabs and taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. Our engine is a pace or two beyond the partition, and a yard from where the pewter was—I was cleaning the pewter, not the engine—I gave evidence several times at the Police-court, and at the inquest—I said before the Magistrate: "I was stooping down at the time close to the engine, when I heard the noise. The first thing that attracted my attention was the door banging back into position, as I thought, against the partition. I did not hear footsteps at the time; I could not say whether anyone was coming in or going out. I ran to the partition immediately I heard the door bang. I saw a man passing at that moment; I saw a side face passing the door"—I was examined before the Coroner two days after this—I said then: "I saw a man passing the doorstep." (The deposition being read, stated: "I saw a, man leaving the doorstep")—I meant to say, "Passing the doorstep"—I could not say that someone had gone from the bar; I would not swear to it, I was not sure—the man had on a cap, the same as Adams always wore—he was a carman, working in a timber yard, and he resembled him very much—I saw his side face; he gave me the impression of being the deceased's husband, and I said so before the Magistrate—side face, I said—I did not tell the policeman, who came, within an hour after the woman had been removed to the hospital, that I saw Adams leaving the doorstep—I did not mention Adams's name to the policeman; it was private talk outside—I do not recollect now whether I mentioned Adams's name to him—my recollection now is not so good as it was two years ago—before this occurred the prisoner and deceased had been drinking at the bar, I suppose, about a quarter of an hour—I did not see Mrs. Clark come in; I never saw Mrs. Clark—I was not in the bar the whole time—my wife first served the prisoner with drink—I served him afterwards, and Mrs. Adams came in some time afterwards, about a quarter to ten—I was behind the counter the whole time after Mrs. Adams came in—the prisoner had been there earlier in the morning—at a quarter to ten the deceased was in the bar, before I came in; I saw her come in—I remained at the bar from the time she came in till I heard the door bang—I served them with drink during the time—I did not see Mrs. Clark at the door, or come into the bar during that time—it was after I saw the face at the door that the woman said, "I am stabbed!"—she was facing me at the counter—I looked at the door immediately, and then I saw the face, and then I called my wife, raised the flap of the counter, and came out—about a minute or two at the outside elapsed—I said before the Magistrate that two or three minutes elapsed—I saw the woman put her hands to her breast, just as I saw the man passing the doorstep—Dr. Harvey came very shortly afterwards—when the prisoner was lifted up I did not see the knife it was handed to me by a man named Conlan when they rose the man up—I did not touch the knife; I left it on the counter for the constable to take care of—it was open when Conlan gave it to me—he took it, and I saw no more of it—I did not notice anything peculiar about the prisoner's, manner—he and the deceased were quite friendly drinking together—I did not see him lifted up off the floor; I was looking after my bar.
Re-examined. The pewter work that I was cleaning was beneath the
counter; I was stooping down behind the counter in order to do it—it was near the engine, about a yard from it.
AUGUSTA TRUETT . I am the wife of the last witness—I knew Mrs. Adams—she was a customer at our house up to the time of her death—I know the prisoner as a customer; he used to come to the house a few times—I remember his coming on Tuesday, 4th August, 1891—he first came nix nit half-past eight in the morning; he called for a glass of mild and bitter; I served him—I said to him, "Have you broken the pledge?" he said, "Well, Mrs. Truett, I don't see why I should be a teetotaler"—I said, "No, not for those that can govern themselves"—I had heard that he was a teetotaler some short time before—he had been in the house during the time he was a teetotaler, and during that time he called for temperance drinks, ginger beer—he drank the mild and bitter and went away—I did not see him again till about ten in the day; I then went into the bar to feed the parrot—Mrs. Adams was then in the private bar with the prisoner; there was nobody else there—Mrs. Adams was standing behind the door with her hand on the strap of the left door; she was facing me—the prisoner was facing her, on the right, with his back to me; I was behind the counter—she had her back to the door; he was very close to her—they were talking very quietly; I could not hear what they said—I did not stay any time: I fed my parrot, and went away—I had not been gone many seconds when I heard a cry from my husband; I had not got through into the kitchen, which is on the ground floor—he called out to me, "Gus, Gus!"—I returned directly, and ran into the private bar; my husband was just running to the door; he lifted up the flap to get there—I followed him through the flap, and I saw Mrs. Adams lying down, and the prisoner as well; I stooped to look, and picked Mrs. Adams up, and said, "Oh, Emily, what is the matter?" but she could not speak to me—I called out for brandy quick; I don't know who fetched it—I tried to give her a little drop, but she could not take it, and they gave it to Lewis, and he drank it—I did not take more notice of him: my attention was taken to Mrs. Adams—I held her till the cab came; I knew her perfectly well—I sent someone to 10, Batson Street, to fetch Mrs. Clark—after I tried to give Mrs. Adams the brandy she just swayed over, but could not speak.
Cross-examined. The prisoner seemed perfectly sober—I never saw him the worse for drink—they seemed to 13 talking very friendly indeed—during the time they were there I did not hear the name of Adams mentioned—I did not mention it, nor did my husband.
Re-examined. I knew the Adams's—I did not know the terms on which they lived, only coming for their jug beer.
FREDERICK CONLAN . I lived at 31, Ropemakers' Fields, Limehouse, in August, 1891—I remember the day after the August Bank Holiday, 1891—about half-past ten that morning I was standing under the railway arch—n man named Sumner was there, and Springhall—I remember Mr. Truett coming to the door of the tavern and calling out—I had been under the railway arch for some time—from there I could see the door of the tavern in Three Colt Street—I had not seen anybody leave that door for some time before Truett came to it—when he called out I went over to the bar—I went in and saw the prisoner lying in one corner, and the woman lying in the other—I picked the prisoner up; he was lying
on his right side, with his back towards the partition—I did not hear him say anything—I gave him some brandy; he was able to drink it—when I lifted him up I saw this knife underneath him; it was open, it was lying underneath his right shoulder—it has a spring; he was lying on the top of it, so that it was concealed—I handed it to Mr. Truett, and said, "This is a knife I found underneath this man"—I did not see any mark of blood on it at the time—two cabs were fetched, and Dr. Harvey—I went with the prisoner in the cab to the hospital—I spoke to him on the way—he only said, "Oh, oh!"
Cross-examined. The first thing I noticed was the door of the public-house being opened and the landlord calling out—I had seen the prisoner and Mrs. Adams go into the public-house, and I saw Mrs. Clark go over to the door; I don't know whether she had any drink or not—I was examined before the Coroner and before the Magistrate in 1891—I told them that I saw Mrs. Clark go to the door. (The witness's deposition being ready did not mention Mrs. Clark)—she did not go into the bar; she did not go inside the door; I saw her go to the door and come away—if she says she went into the bar she must be telling a lie—I was one of those that helped to lift up the prisoner and found the knife—he seemed to be unconscious—I did not look at the knife carefully; I "handed it to Mr. Truett. (The witness in his deposition stated: "I looked at it care fully at the time; I saw blood on it")—if I told that to the Magistrate it is true—I looked at it, not to say carefully—I went with the prisoner in the cab—he seemed unconscious the whole time; his eyes were shut—I had to carry him into the hospital.
Re-examined. I was standing beside Springhall, and looking in the same direction—I did not see anybody go into the private bar—I had seen the prisoner and Mrs. Adams go in, and I saw Mrs. Clark come and leave—I saw no one go into the bar from the time she left till I heard Mr. Truett call out—I saw him come to the door, and I heard him call out and I ran over.
JAMES SPRINGHALL . In 1891 I lived at 9, Batson Street—I knew the deceased and her husband, by seeing him occasionally—on the morning of the 4th of August, I was in company with the last witness and Sumner under the railway arch—I saw Mr. Truett come to his door, and I heard him call for help—I had been looking in that direction for about ten minutes—during that time I did not see anybody come from the door at which Mr. Truett appeared—I saw a man coming in that direction towards me—that was about five minutes before; I could not exactly tell the time—the man I saw went towards the station, to the best of my belief—when I first saw him he was at the further side of the door of the house, towards the coffee-house, which is beyond the private door; he was on the coffee-house side of the private door—he passed me about the width of the road; I thought it was Adams—I only saw his side face—I afterwards went over to the door and helped to take Mrs. Adams to the hospital—I don't know upon what terms the Adams's lived.
Cross-examined. I put the time at which I saw the man coming from the house about five minutes before Mr. Truett called out; I could not say what time elapsed—I gave evidence at the inquest a few days after the occurrence—the man was walking sharp across the road; his hat was over his eyes; I could see a moustache—I could not say if Adams wore a
moustache—from the hasty view I had of the man I took him to be Adams—at the inquest I remembered the thing letter than afterwards. (The witness's depositions before the Coroner being read, stated: "I believed it was Adams, but I should not be surprised if it turned out to be some-one else; I only saw part of his face, for his hat was over his face. I can't say whether he came out of the private bar or not; he was running.")
Re-examined. When I first saw him he was on the tavern side of the coffee-shop—he was between the two entrances from the coffee-shop to the bar, walking from the direction of the coffee-shop towards the station; it was not exactly a run, it was walking sharp—I can't exactly say whether he was nearer the coffee-shop than the private bar—I could not see much of his face owing to his hat being over his eyes—he had a largish moustache.
FREDERICK BURGESS . I live at Cotter's Buildings, Brook Street—on 4th August, 1891, a little-after ten in the morning, I was under the railway arch, near the Railway Tavern—I was not standing with Conlan and Springhall—I was standing with my face towards the Railway Tavern—I was there for about twenty minutes to half an hour—I remember Mr. Truett coming to the dour of the private bar—I had been looking in the direction of the door about a quarter of a hour before Mr. Truett came to the door—before he came to the door I had not seen anyone enter or leave the private bar—when Mr. Truett came he called out for assistance—I went across, and went into the door—in consequence of what Mr. Truett said to me I went for a constable—I found one, and came back with him—I then went into the private bar—by that time Dr. Harvey was in the tar—I saw the prisoner when I went in; he was lying on the left-hand side, and the woman was in a sitting "position—I went with her in a cab to the hospital—I believe she died in the cab—I was there when the prisoner arrived—I helped to carry him from the cab into the hospital; his eyes were closed; he looked very bad.
Cross-examined. I was not called at the inquest—I believe the police knew my evidence, and knew I was there—I was first examined before the Magistrate on 2nd September—I was looking at the public-house the whole quarter of an hour—no one came out or went into the private bar that I am aware of; I saw nobody—I did not see Mrs. Clark go there—I would not swear that no one went in or came out.
JOHN GOVER . I am a leather cutter, and live at 29, Three Colt Street, and right opposite the Railway Tavern—on the morning of 4th August, 1891, about ten, I was coming from Commercial Road along Three Colt Street on the same side as the Railway Tavern—I saw some children round the door of the private bar—I put down what I was carrying, and went into the private bar, and saw Mrs. Adams, the prisoner, and Mrs. Truett—the prisoner was lying on the floor—Mrs. Adams was resting on Mrs. Truett's knee. I spoke to Mrs. Adams; she made me no answer—I took the prisoner's hand from his chest, and asked him to speak to me—I got no reply—I did his clothes and saw blood stains on his chest—his eyes were partly closed—he did not seen to me to be unconscious—I fetched a constable, and I went to the hospital with Mrs. Adams—I knew the man Adams, seeing him about the streets—I had seen him-and the prisoner together—I can't say how long before
this; it was some months previous—on that occasion they had some words together.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was lying on the ground when I went in; his eyes were partly closed—he did not answer any question that I put to him, he merely grunted—there was not much blood on him—I saw blood stains on his shirt and on his flesh.
JAMES CROUCH (445 K). On 4th August, 1891, at 10.15, I was on duty about 200 or 300 yards from the Railway Tavern—the witness Burgess ame to me, and I accompanied him to the Railway Tavern—Dr. Harvey was there—I attended to deceased and the prisoner—I assisted in removing the prisoner to the London Hospital—I saw him put into the cab and taken out of it; he appeared to be unconscious—I said nothing to him—Dr. Harvey was attending to him then—I received this knife from Mr. Truett in the bar before the people were removed—I looked at it; the blade was not open; I opened it—I noticed a slight stain on it—I cannot say whether it was blood or what it was.
Cross-examined. I was called before the Magistrate in 1891—I have been in the force four years—I believe the knife was shut when it was handed to me—that was while the man and woman were lying in the bar. (The witness pointed out where the stain was)—I opened it at the time and saw the stain on the blade—it was a rusty stain more than anything, dampish—I thought it of importance—I shut it up carefully and rolled it in paper, and handed it to my inspector—I did not see it again—Inspector Mellish saw the stain; I did not point it out to him, he showed it to me; he did not say anything to me—I have not said anything to anyone until to-day about the stain—this is my signature to this deposition. (This stated, "There was no blood on it.")
FREDERICK WILLIAM HARVEY . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 44, Three Colt Street, Limehouse—on 4th August, about a quarter-past ten, I was called to the Railway Tavern, and there found the deceased and the prisoner in the private bar—I attended to the woman first—she was on the ground, her head being supported by Mrs. Truett; she was alive, but quite unable to speak—she was suffering from a wound in the chest, and there were blood stains on the clothing in the neighbourhood of the wound—I ordered her immediate removal to the hospital—I then gave immediate attention to the prisoner; he was sitting on the floor supported by the witness Conlan—his eyes were closed—I did not speak to him; I tried his pulse; it was beating quickly but feebly—I ordered brandy and water; it was brought to him—he was able to swallow that—I believe he was unconscious—I examined his wound; it was a clean incised wound—there was not much loss of blood—in the case of the woman there was great loss of blood—I could not form a good opinion at the time as to whether the prisoner's wound was serious or not.
Cross-examined. I came to the conclusion that he was unconscious—he had lost between one and two ounces of blood, I think—I saw the knife picked up—I did not examine it—the wound on the woman had penetrated the heart—the length of the blade is about 31/2 inches; if the wound had been caused by that it would have been plunged to the hilt—I should have expected to find some blood on the notch and hilt—if used a second time it might have passed through the clothing—on a smooth blade I should not expect to find blood—the clothing might have cleaned
the blade, but not the notch—when blood once gets on an instrument it is very difficult to remove.
HAPPY HALL . I am a nurse at the London Hospital—I was engaged there in August, 1891—on the 4th of August, soon after ten, I received the prisoner into my care—we undressed him and put him to bed, and placed an ice-bag over the wound on his chest—he did not speak at all at that time—about an hour afterwards his brother came to see him, and addressed some remark to him, and he said something; I can't remember what it was—about half an hour after the brother left I asked the prisoner how the accident happened—he told me that he was drinking with another man, who turned round and stabbed him—I can't remember distinctly how he spoke.
Cross-examined. In 1891 I said before the Magistrate: "He did not speak very clearly, but he said while standing in the bar, on turning round a man stabbed him"—I had been a nurse there nearly two years—he appeared to be unconscious when he came in.
GEORGE MELLISH (Police Inspector K). On 4th April, 1891, I went to the London Hospital between four and five o'clock—I saw the prisoner there in bed; he made a statement to me—I made a note of it at the time—this is it. (Read: "17, Cambridge Ward, 4th July, 1891. John Lewis, 186, Oxford Street, Stepney. About 10.30 this morning I was with Mrs. Adams in Mr. Truett's beer-house. I had half a pint of ale; Mrs. Adams had a glass of wine. She was standing towards the door, I walked to the counter to get a light, and I felt myself stabbed in the left breast; the man was in front of me. I knew him about Christmas last as the husband of the deceased. I had a quarrel with him just after last Christmas; we had a short fight. After I was stabbed, and falling, Mrs. Adams called out, 'Oh, I am stabbed!' Mr. Adams then hurried out of the house. Mr. Truett then came into the same compartment, and sent for a doctor and the police. I am living with Mrs. Willis. He had a black, broad felt hat, and a sandy moustache. I was in the house last night about three p.m. Clark asked me me to have a cup of tea; I had it in the back room downstairs. After we had tea, Mr. and Mrs. Clark, the deceased, and myself all went out and spent the evening at the Pavilion. I left them at the George, Commercial Road, at 1.30 p.m. I arranged to meet her at Truett's this morning. She told me her husband had got a revolver to shoot me. I have seen Adams twice since Christmas; the first time was when the fight took place. I saw him the following day, and had a drink with him; also in Church Road, but I did not speak to him")—the inquest was opened on 6th August—I produced the knife there; I think it was given me by Crouch; it was shut; I opened it—I noticed a stain on the blade—I gave the knife to Dr. Galloway, the house surgeon at the hospital, to examine it—the second day of the inquest was on the 12th of August—I was present when the prisoner gave evidence on that occasion, and when the Coroner's Jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against William Alexander Adams—the prisoner stayed on to the end of the inquiry; he was an inmate of the hospital—he was present when the Jury returned their verdict—on 16th August I was at the Limehouse Station when the prisoner was charged with the willful murder of Emily Maria Adams on 4th August, 1891, at Three Colt Street—he said, "Just so"—I placed him in the dock—he said, "Am I taken
for the deed, then?"—I said, "Yes"—the charge was read to him, and he said, "Just so."
Cross-examined. I have been nearly twenty-six years in the force—I have been in Court the whole day—I heard Counsel open that there was no blood on the knife, and I heard Crouch's evidence about the stain—I thought the stain of importance—I can't say that I said anything about it to Crouch, or he to me—the knife had been examined by an expert before it was produced before the Magistrate, and it was left entirely to him—I did not shut the knife; I wrapped it up in paper as it was, open—i was handed to the Coroner, and was afterwards taken to the Steward's office, and then taken to Dr. Galloway—I think the stain was dry—I have not said anything about the stain before to-day; it was left to the medical evidence—after taking the prisoner's statement at the hospital I went and saw Truett—he made a statement to me; I have it here—I know this locality very well; Parnham Street is more than a quarter of a mile from West India Dock Road; that is where the witness Gibbs lives—the statement made by Truett was on the afternoon of the occurrence—he said, "I saw the man leave the doorstep. I saw his side face through the door. I have not the least doubt it was him. I could not be certain it was the deceased's husband."
JOHN BANKS . I am the officer of Mr. Wynne Baxter, one of the Coroners for London—I was present at the inquest upon Mrs. Adams on 6th August—on 12th August, in my presence, the prisoner was called as a witness—he was sworn—I heard him give his evidence—it was taken flown in writing at the time he gave it—it was read over to and signed by him—this is his signature.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was brought from the hospital—he appeared weak and pale—he afterwards went back to the hospital.
The prisoner's evidence was then read as follows: John Alexander Lewis upon his oath saith:—" I reside at 2, Hale Street, Poplar. I am a carman. I have known the deceased twelve months. Her husband came out of prison three days before last Christmas. I saw him when he came home. Just after Christmas I was with the deceased outside of Truett's beer-house in Three Colt Street. Mr. Adams came up to us and wanted to know how it was I was with his wife. I told him I had treated her to a glass of ale. Then he ran away, and came back behind me and threw me and blacked my eyes. Then he ran to his home. That was the first time I had seen him. I did not know who he was. I knew deceased was a married woman. Three weeks after that I saw him again. I was just outside Truett's, and he asked me to go into the Five Bells, in Three Colt Street, and treated me to a glass of ale, and gave me his hand. I did not see him again until June, when I saw him in Church Row, Limehouse; but he was at one end of the street and I at the other: we did not speak. I never saw him again until Tuesday, the 4th August. On Monday evening, 3rd August, I went to the theatre with the deceased and Mr. and Mrs. Clark. I arranged to meet deceased at Truett's on Tuesday morning, but no time was mentioned. I went to Truett's that morning a little after nine a.m., and waited for the deceased. She came in at 9.30 a.m., and I treated her to a glass of wine. Deceased told me on Monday that she had net seen her husband for three or four weeks, and that she was going to write to
the Past Office at Cardiff to find out where he was, as she had received a hitter from Bristol four weeks back to say that he would be home at eleven p.m. the next Saturday night, and he did not arrive; and he told her to write to the General Post Office at Cardiff, and she had not done so, but was going to do so. Deceased did not mention anything about her husand on Tuesday morning. She did not say that she had seen him or that she had not seen him. Deceased had been in Truett's a good half-hour, and we were standing near one another close to the street door. I had arranged to meet her at night, and I was about to leave. I walked from the door to the bar to get a light, and left deceased standing at the door. I had got a light at the bar and turned round to go out, when I saw deceased's husband come towards me, and he leapt at me with a knife in his right hand. I stepped back to try and escape it, but he stabbed me in the left side of my breast, just above the heart. He did not speak, did not see or hear him come into the bar. I am a little deaf. He threw the knife down on the bar floor towards my legs, and ran out of the door. I did not see him again. Just as I was stabbed I noticed the deceased in the corner near the door, falling. The deceased called out, am stabbed. 'She did not say who stabbed her. Then Mr. and Mrs. Truett came into the bar, and I lost consciousness. I don't remember anything afterwards until I found myself in the London Hospital. While deceased was in the bar with me, and before we were injured, Mrs. Clark just looked in and said she had two shillings for deceased; she did not stay, but told the deceased to come and do the washing. There were also two persons who came into the bar. They came in together. They were perfect strangers to me. They were a man and a woman. They did not stay many minutes. I had not noticed anyone looking in at the bar door window. I should not know the knife again. I only saw the blade, which was a large one. I am sure it was Adams who stabbed me. but I did not see him stab the deceased. On a Saturday night four weeks before this deceased was expecting her husband home. Deceased came out at nine p.m. to meet me against the Town Hall, Limehouse. We went in a tram to a large tea place just past the George, Commercial Road, and she bought some tea. I did not pay for it. We walked back. On the way back, before reaching Stepney Railway Station, deceased's son met us. She thought her son had not noticed her with me, and she ran across the road to avoid him, and told me to follow her. I did so and the boy came across to us. He was going to hit me, but she stopped him. It was then 10.15 p.m. He said he would knock my head off. He said he would tell his father. With that the deceased sent her son home, and she followed after him, and I went home. The next day deceased told me that her son had run out of the house and had not been home all night, and she was about the streets all night looking after him. That is the only time I saw the son. He is fifteen years of age, I think. Mr. and Mrs. Clark did not know that I was meeting the deceased so frequently. Deceased and I were in the private bar at Truett's when we were stabbed. I have not had a knife of any description for months. I had no knife about me when I was stabbed.—(Signed) J. A. LEWIS."
WILLIAMS, M.D. I am now practising at Talgarth—on 4th August I was house surgeon at the London Hospital—the prisoner was admitted there about a quarter to eleven in the morning—he had a
wound In the chest—it was not bleeding—I spoke to him; he did not answer—I tried his pulse; it was fairly good—he was breathing easily—his eyes were closed—I tried to open the eyelids; he resisted; I did not press at all—I formed no opinion—I ordered him back to the ward—his resistance would tend to show he was conscious—the next morning I examined the wound on the chest—it was over the heart, but ran in an outward direction, amongst the muscles, about two inches—if it had gone into the cavity of the chest it would have been severe—it was not dangerous—this knife might have inflicted it—the wound might have been self-inflicted—it was not of a character likely to make the man unconscious—there was not much blood—the wound was practically healed when he went out on 16th August—it soon scabbed over, but was healed within a day or two of his going out—I allowed him to attend the inquest on 12th, not on 6th—he returned to the hospital—I saw him every day from 12th to 16th—there was nothing strange in his demeanour—on 15th some constables came to the hospital—they sat in the lobby—the ward is divided into two halves—I showed the first two constables the prisoner—the second man came at six a.m.—the prisoner was asleep; as far as I know, the ward was in darkness—the lobby came between the two halves of the ward—on the morning he left he seemed very restless; he turned about in bed, and that sort of thing; then he asked me if he could go into the garden—I said, "No"—then he asked me if I intended him to go away with the two police who were in the ward—I told him I had nothing to do with that—he asked me again if he could go in the garden—I said, "You can be discharged if you like, but I shall not give you permission to go into the garden," and he was discharged then and there—the woman was dead when she arrived—I made a post-mortem examination about two days afterwards—she had a wound half an inch long on the left side just below the third rib, penetrating three and a half inches, entering the lung and the left ventricle of the heart; the cause of death was internal hæmorrhage from the wound in the heart—it might have been inflicted by this knife.
Cross-examined. The wound on the man may have been self-inflicted—there was nothing to show it—if he was unconscious it was in a very slight degree—what struck me was that he was either shamming or very much frightened at having had such a narrow escape—a shock might produce slight unconsciousness if the man was very nervous, without any wound—the pulse was not the proper diagnosis to find out whether he was unconscious—I did not test him—he swallowed something, and a person unconscious cannot swallow—if unconscious in a slight degree, something poured into the mouth might produce the automatic movement of swallowing—he knew the police watched him—Inspector Mellish showed me the knife, and asked me if it would inflict a wound like that on the woman—I should have expected to have found blood on the knife, but it was wrapped in paper when I saw it, directly afterwards anyone might—wiping would remove the blood if it is not coagulated—it would be easily removed before it was clotted—it would be difficult to find any—I have known instances where blood has been found on a knife years afterwards.
Cross-examined. I was called before the Magistrate in 1891.
JAMES GALLOWAY, M.D . In 1891 I lived at 16, Finsbury Circus—I was shown this knife on Tuesday, 11th August—I examined it, and found no traces of blood upon it—it was brought to me closed; I opened it—it has a strong spring, and when shown to me in 1891 the spring was very strong, but from rusting the spring has naturally lost strength.
Cross-examined. I agree with Dr. Williams—I should expect to find blood upon the blade—I never knew blood found on a polished knife after being drawn through clothes, but you might find it on the handle, notches, trade-mark, and so on.
Re-examined. I agree with Dr. Williams that blood is quite easily removed from the steel or polished surface if not coagulated—I would like to add, I do not know where the knife was, nor what was done with it between the time it was left in the hands of Inspector Mellish and being given up a week later.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER CHARLES ADAMS (in custody). Emily Maria Adams was my wife—I last saw her on 8th July, 1891, when I left my home, 10, (Batson Street—I went to Windsor, and then to Bristol—I wrote to my wife from Bristol—from Bristol I went to Cardiff—I was arrested at Cardiff on a charge of larceny on 13th July—I was in prison from 13th July to 17th August—then I came to London—I served six months' imprisonment at Pentonville from 17th August, or thereabouts—I was not in or near the Railway Tavern at Three Colt Street upon the morning of 4th August—I know Lewis—I first met him on 22nd December, 1890—I had then been away some time in prison—he was then at work adjoining my house in a railway arch—I saw him throwing some wood down in the street—I saw him with my wife about January, 1891—my wife had gone to fetch some beer—she had been absent a long time, and I went after her—she was coming from Truett's door, and the prisoner was following her—he might be talking to her, and she struggled to get away—she had a shawl over her shoulders—she made the remark, "Good God, here is my husband!" and the shawl came off, and was left in my hands—I asked him what he was doing—he said, "That's all right"—I said, "Do you know anything about the woman?"—he said he asked her to have something to drink, but he did not know anything at all about her—I said, "Do you know it is my wife?" and struck him, and we had a fight—we both fell to the ground, and he was marked—then I and my wife went home—I saw him the next morning, and we had a drink together—after that I saw him on one or two occasions, but not to speak to him—I saw him afterwards with my wife in the street—I went towards them, and my wife went one way and he the other—I went to my foreman and tried to find her when I gave the work up.
Cross-examined. I saw him on several occasions, but not to speak to him; once at six a.m.—perhaps a dozen times altogether.
Re-examined. I was taken into custody at Cardiff in the name of George Davidson.
ALFRED GERMAN . I am a warder of H. M. Prison at Cardiff—on 14th July I received into custody the last witness in the name of George Davidson—he remained in my custody at Cardiff up to 17th August, when he was brought to London and imprisoned at Pentonville.
FREDERICK FORTH (Sergeant K). On the 6th September the prisoner came to me at Limehouse Police-station at 10.30 a.m.—he said, "I wish to give myself up"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "For the murder of Mrs. Adams"—I cautioned him that whatever he said would be taken down and might be used against him—he then made this statement, which I took down and read to him—he said, "Yes, that is right," and then signed it. (Read: "I, John Alexander Lewis, 2, Hale Street, Poplar, wish to give myself up for the murder of Mrs. Adams on Tuesday, 4th August, 1891. I thought of living with her; her husband was the cause of my doing it. I thought if I could not have her no one else should. She came to see me on the morning at Mr. Truett's public-house. I gave her refreshments, and stood talking to her for a long while. Mrs. Clark came there and Went away again. She came back again. I asked her to have a drink. She said, "Not just now; I will come back again. 'She did not come back again to the public-house. I did not Fee her till I was at Arbour Square Court. While waiting for Mrs. Clark I took the knife. I done it, and tried to do myself as well. I fell on the floor. I was very fond of the woman, and am very sorry. Some weeks before it happened her husband saw me with her; he said, 'What is the meaning of this?' With that he went to strike her. I stood between them, so that he should not strike her. When he saw me do that he ran up the street, saying, 'All right, we'll see. 'I remained with her. When he came back he took me by the belt from behind, and threw me down. When he released me he ran towards his home. I did not see him any more that night. I make this statement voluntarily, after having been cautioned that it might be used against me.—JOHN ALEXANDER LEWIS."
GEORGE ORMSBY (Inspector K). I was at the Police-station at Lime-house, and shortly after the prisoner came to give himself up my attention was called to him—I said, "Why do you give yourself up now after all this long time?"—he said, "I am looking above the things of this world now, and I want to make my peace."
Cross-examined. He was only under my observation about three minutes, while I was getting into my cart—he seemed strange in his manner, and his story was disconnected.
Re-examined. I have told you accurately what he said.
JOSEPH HORRIGAN . I am fourteen years of age—I knew Mrs. Adams—I was near the private bar on the morning of 4th August—I heard no one call out—I saw Mrs. Truett—I was standing outside the door—I looked in—then I saw Mrs. Truett holding a woman in her arms—I heard something, in consequence of which I went to Mrs. Clark.
Cross-examined. I heard Mrs. Truett say, "Her husband has stabbed her."
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate on 22nd September last was read as follows: "The knife I purchased in West India Dock Road, as I had the knife purposely for Adams himself if he did offer to do anything to me with a knife, or otherwise a revolver, as he was expected to have for protection of himself and his wife, defending blows, and which I did not see him any more. So to save all bother between him, Adams, and Mrs. Adams in their fighting through me being with Mrs. Adams on that day that he saw me, or that night, rather, for he (Adams) were a cruel husband to his wife; the way he used to
treat her in his own house; he has jumped upon her with his feet, and blacked her eyes, broken her furniture, and called her names (which were several out of her names), said that I have done something in the house which I ought not to have done; he accused me of several things which were not right, so on the 4th August I thought it would be best to send her above, which I tried to do the same myself, but did not succeed. That is all, your Worship."
Evidence called for the Defence.
PHILIP FRANCIS GILBERT, M.D . (Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway). The prisoner has been under my observation since 9th September—I have noticed nothing unusual with him until I have spoken with him, and then he answered in a confused, hesitating sort of way; he seemed dazed—his memory is impaired, and his intellect weak—I should think his mind is in much the same state as it was in 1891—I believe he did live with his mother—he told me he had had a fall in 1878 on his head—he bears the scar now—that might have caused his weak intellect—some of the information as to his condition in 1891 I gathered from his mother, and some from himself—I do not know that it is common for a person of weak intellect to accuse themselves of murder—it happens occasionally—it is doubtful if he ever had sunstroke.
Cross-examined. The history of the sunstroke is very insufficient—the fall occurred in 1878—so far as I can see he is subject to no delusion—I have seen no indication of insanity—so far as I am able to judge he is in the same condition of mind now as he was two years ago—I have spoken to him frequently about this crime, and he has told me how he did it—I have heard and given my attention to his statement when given into cusody—his account to me agrees with it—he detailed the facts in much the same way, and gave the same motive—I think he realises he has done a wrong thing in the commission of this crime—he has expressed sorrow for it—I have no reason to doubt that is genuine.
Re-examined. He has not complained of being restless and not sleeping while he has been in prison—before he came into the prison he said he had had trembling and fainting fits—he said he felt that something was going to happen, and that it might be the judgment of God—he said he felt the earth was shaking; "quiver," I think, was the word he used—he thought it might be a judgment upon him, and that was the reason for giving himself up.
ALLEN RICHARD RUMSEY . I am manager for Messrs. Abbott Brothers, cow-keepers and contractors—the prisoner was in our employment for 21/2 years from about 1888 to 1890; about six months before the murder was committed—I observed him very frequently—his character was that of a most peaceable, inoffensive man—he suffered from deafness.
GEORGE SHAFT . I am a tide waiter, of 2, Hale Street, Poplar—I married the prisoner's mother—I have known him between fourteen and fifteen years—he has borne the character of a very peaceable, inoffensive, and industrious man—for the last two or three months I have noticed he has been a little strange in his manner—he has served in the army, and has been all through the Egyptian campaign—since last April he has been living at my place—he had been in the army a little over eight years before he returned home from India.
Cross-examined. He was twelve years in the army, including four
years in the reserve—he left the army in 1889—then he got a situation in the lunatic asylum at Fairfield Road, Bow—he was employed by Mr. Abbott as a milk carrier for two years after he left his first situation; from June, 1889, to April, 1891—then he went into the service of Messrs. Benton, biscuit bakers—I could not say how long he was employed there; he was not living at home then—he was employed at the asylum about three months—I know nothing about his employment in the country, more than I heard he had employment there—when he had received his reserve money he went into the country to seek a livelihood—after his dismissal in 1891 by the Magistrate he lived at home some time—he remained unemployed till this year—he came home in April, and was at home five months—when at home he was not employed, but went to look for it—he has been low-spirited and depressed in mind, and at times rather irritable, and could not bear anybody to speak to him—I first noticed it two months ago—I had no suspicion he had anything on his mind—I put it down to his not getting anything to do—he became dull in spirits, depressed in his mind, and rather irritable—his conduct was consistent with the conduct of a person who had something on his mind—I first heard of the confession at five o'clock the same day he gave himself up—I would not believe it till I saw the paper at 7.30, when I saw it was true—I went to him and had some conversation with him.
By the COURT (for the JURY). He did not go to a church or chapel—he had no minister to advise him.
WILLIAM EVERITT, M.D . I am Deputy Superintendent of the East Kent Asylum, at Charlton—the prisoner was in our employment from 15th January to 23rd May as a keeper or attendant—I engaged him, and just saw him occasionally as he passed through the ward—he seemed curious in his manner during the latter part of his time, more than at first—he became untidy, and did not do his work—he was also reported as being queer at night, and not sleeping—at first he was a hard-working, inoffensive man—I did not see him much personally, but I had reports—he was discharged by the superintendent.
Cross-examined. He suffered from no delusion that I am aware of—sleeplessness, of course, often accompanies an uneasy conscience.
Re-examined. Attending lunatics would not be calculated to strengthen a weak intellect.
JAMES GATES . I am a master carman, living at Belmont, in Surrey—the prisoner was in my employ from about 10th August till the end of October, 1892—he left of his own accord, without any notice, the third week in October—I paid him his wages on the Saturday night, and he did not come back till the Thursday, when he said, "I am sorry I have left you as I have"—he was a very peaceable, inoffensive man—he used to be very quiet; he would not have anything to say to the other men; he was very reserved indeed, but a very good working man, one of the best, I think—I came to the conclusion there was something behind that we could not find out—I think the man had something on his mind somewhere.
GUILTY. Recommended to merry by the JURY.
DEATH (Afterwards respited.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
868. HENRY WRIGHT (31) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for £5, with intent to defraud. The prisoner stated that he was guilty of the uttering, and the JURY found that verdict. —Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
869. GEORGE JONES (48), and RICHARD HENRY ROBINSON (21) , Unlawfully committing an act of gross indecency. JONES PLEADED GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. Upon the evidence of DR. GILBERT , Medical Officer of Holloway Gaol, the JURY found ROBINSON imbecile, and unfit to plead. —To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
870. WILLIAM BERRY (18), HENRY SHELFORD (18), GEORGE TRABER (17), and WILLIAM ARCHER PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a pony, harness, and cart, of John Watson; also to stealing a gelding, the property of Samuel Palmer; Berry and Shelford having been before convicted. BERRY** and SHELFORD**— Six Months' Hard Labour each. TRABER**— Four Months' Hard Labour. ARCHER — Discharged on recognizances. And
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted, MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
Cross-examined. I missed it about a quarter of an hour's walk from its home; not in a direct line—it had no collar on.
LAURA PFIFER . I am a widow, of 41, Narcissus Road, Hampstead—on 24th December the prisoner came to my house with a basket in his hand—my brother-in-law, Mr. Potter's, dog was advertised for, and the prisoner said that he knew someone who had a dog of that description, and would fetch it from the railway station—he returned in five minutes, but it would take him a quarter of an hour to go there and back—he brought in a basket a dog of a similar breed, white and black, but an older dog, and larger—I said, "That is not the dog," and sent for my brother-in-law—the prisoner said he knew a man who bought dogs of that description—my brother-in-law came, and after some talk he and the prisoner left the house.
Cross-examined. We had offered ten guineas reward for the dog.
JAMES THOMAS POTTER . I live at 28, Marquis Road, West Hampstead—on December 24th I was sent for to my sister-in-law's house, and found the prisoner there with a dog—I said, "That is not my dog"—my dog was black with white spots and long hair, and this dog had short hair of a different colour; I think it was dark grey—the advertisement was for a black and white dog with long hair—the prisoner suggested that my wife should go with him, but I went—as I went out I saw Warren opposite No. 41—I went with the prisoner to West Hampstead
Railway Station, and saw Warren there, taking a ticket—he asked me if I had the hard cash in my pocket—I said I should give him a cheque—he said it must be hard cash, and we went back to the house—before we got into the train the prisoner said he thought by the look of the house that £10 was a large reward, and £5 would be about the price—from Farringdon Street we went to Cow Cross Street, where he wanted me to go into a public-house, but I refused—we went to a more respectable looking house; Warren came in, and Goode said, "Go to the woman and ask for the dog and tell her I shall be personally responsible for it"—(Warren was at the first public-house, and Goode spoke to him)—Warren came back and said he could not get the dog from the woman, as her husband was at Salisbury, and she could not give up the dog without the money—Goode told him to go and fetch the dog, and say that he would be personally responsible—he brought back the dog; I refused to pay; he held me by my coat—I knocked his arm off and went out, and got a police-man, and found them at Horse Shoe Alley.
Cross-examined. Goode said he should get into a row. if he did not have the money; he had told me previously that he had been a great boxer—I know his son by reputation; I had one or two letters from him—the £10 reward was in a second advertisement—I did not say that no further reward would be offered—he may have said that I need not give even £5 unless I was satisfied—a Japanese spaniel is a somewhat rare breed—I should say that the first dog brought to me was not a Japanese spaniel—it had very long legs compared with my dog; it was so different that no one would mistake it—I told the prisoner he might sue me.
GEORGE WARREN . I live at 58, Bacon Street, Brick Lane—I have known the prisoner two or three years by living in the neighbourhood—on Christmas Eve, between three and five o'clock, I saw the prisoner in Great Eastern Street; he asked me how I was going on—I said, "A bit rough"—he said a friend of his, a dealer, had bought a dog, and seeing in the papers that the dog was lost he did not wish to have anything to do with it, and therefore he should like the rightful owner to have the dog back, and the prisoner could take it back if he liked—he said he could not carry the dog, as he was ill; would I go with him and carry it; it was in a basket—I did not see it, but my wife could very well carry it for a couple of miles—we went to the prosecutor's house, and I left the prisoner with the dog—he told me to wait outside, and then came out and took the dog and told me to go back to the beer shop—while I was sitting there, alone, a woman came to me—she had nothing with her—she went out and the prosecutor and prisoner came in—he said, "Go across the road"—we all three went across the road, and he sent me to get the dog—the woman would not give it to me unless she had £5, but the prisoner said he would make himself answerable, and I got the dog—the prosecutor would not pay, and as I went to the woman to say that I had not got the money I was taken in custody, charged at the station, and remanded for eight weeks—I pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to one day's imprisonment.
By the COURT. I saw the woman in the beer shop—the prisoner said, "Has there been anybody here for me?"—I said, "There has been a woman here"—we went across the road, and the prosecutor or prisoner told him to go to the woman and say it was not the dog, and to give me the other dog—he took one dog away and brought one back—I told the prisoner
that the woman said the dealer had been waiting there so long he would not wait any longer, and if anything was wanted I was to go to him—the woman had nothing with her when I first saw her.
Cross-examined. I pleaded guilty to get the case decided—I was in custody a fortnight, and on bail six weeks—Sergeant Welham first asked me to give evidence at the Police-court—after I pleaded guilty I heard no more of the case till two months ago—I have known Goode two or three years—I did not know him when he kept a shop in Leadenhall Market—I did not know that he was Goode, of Leadenhall Market—I never bought any dogs of him—I am a bricklayer—I am no judge of a Japanese spaniel—when Goode asked me to carry the dog he looked as if he was recovering from an illness, and being Christmas-time I was willing to earn a shilling—he said he would give me a few shillings; half-a-sovereign was mentioned, I think—I expect the prosecutor was to pay that, and the dealer was to get the £5.
JOHN SCOTT (Detective Sergeant G). On August 3rd, about 1.15, I was in the City Road with another officer, and saw the prisoner—I crossed over to him, and said, "I am a police officer; I shall take you in custody for dog stealing"—he said, "I have been away to America; I know there is a warrant out for me; I stopped some time in Liverpool, and came back about a fortnight ago. I have seen Inspector Potts; he said it was all right, the gent who lost the dog would not prosecute me"—at the station he said, "I have a Prince of Wales' poodle; I shall not get time for this"—the other man got away.
Cross-examined. He said that he saw the Fitzgibbon fight—I believe he has been a pugilist.
EDGAR WILLIAMS (Detective S). On August 3rd, about two o'clock, I went to Hoxton Station, where the prisoner was in custody, and read the warrant to him—he said, "I never stole the dog; I did not take any money"—on the way to Hampstead he said, "The other man must have stolen the dog"—he did not say who he meant by the other man.
Cross-examined. He was charged with Warren, who was convicted, and served one day—I directed him to attend—I asked him to come.
GUILTY **— Four Months, without Hard Labour.
HENRY P. ODDIGTON (605 K). On 19th September I was on duty in Burdett Road, Limehouse, and saw the prisoner with three large bottles of brandy on his right arm and a small bottle inside his breast-pocket—I asked what he had got—he said, "Feel and see," and one of the bottles of brandy fell on the ground and was broken; it was all lost—I asked him where he brought it from—he said from Rotherhithe, and he gave a man 5s. for it—he then said, "I bought them from a man at White Horse Lane, Stepney, and gave him 10s. for them"—afterwards he said from a man near Mile End—I searched his pockets and found a flask of brandy, with an address, "Glovers' Arms, Limehouse"—he was then about 300 yards from the Glovers' Arms.
Cross-examined by prisoner. You had no tools to commit a burglary with—you looked rather dirty—you gave three accounts to the sergeant.
FREDERICK ENNEVER . I am potman at the Glovers' Arms, Burdett Road, Limehouse—on the night preceding September 19th, I saw the place securely fastened at 12.45—I was called about five a.m. and found the cellar door forced—it had been secured with a chain and a wooden weight, but no bolts or lock; the wood had been taken off, which would allow the flap to be moved sufficiently to admit anybody—I went to bed at 1.15, the wooden weight was then there—the wine cellar was forced, and I missed seven bottles of Henessey's brandy and three bottles of port wine, and this sample bottle, with the name of my house on it—this brandy costs 5s. 6d. a bottle; nobody could buy three bottles for 10s.
Cross-examined. The cellar is about six feet deep under the flap—there is no pulley or steps; you could not get down and get up again without help.
CHARLES BRIDGE (Police Inspector K). I examined this cellar flap, and found by the marks that it had been raised by a jemmy—the locks of the beer cellar had been forced off, and the screws forced out of the woodwork.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he bought the urine and brandy of a man named Smeed, who took ten shillings for them, as that was all the money the prisoner had got, and he could have found Smeed if he had been allowed out on bail.
GUILTY on the Second Count. He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Hertford in March, 1893.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. O'CONNOR Prosecuted, MR. WARBURTON Defended Kennedy.
HENRY BARTLETT . I am a chimney sweep—on 18th September I was going up Dalston Lane between 5.30 and six p.m., and saw the three prisoners at the corner of Charles Street—I knew Kennedy by sight; he came up and asked me to give him something to drink—I said I had got nothing—he said, "Yes, you have; a man who has got a watch has got some money"—he seized my watch and pulled it out—Whelan made some remark, and I was kicked unmercifully till I was insensible—they ran away, and a gentleman picked me up—they kicked me in the groin, and all over—I was bruised from head to foot, and was taken to the hospital—I went to the station and described the prisoners, and two hours afterwards I picked them out from other men—Kennedy took my watch; he did not strike me, only the other two prisoners—my coat and waistcoat were torn.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I fix the time by a clock in the Kingsland Road—I had been at the Police-court that afternoon about another charge of my friend—the man was fined—in 1891 I prosecuted James Dolling for stealing my watch—that charge was dismissed, I had not gut enough evidence—I worked for Mr. Deacon—it was not proved that I had no watch at all—I did not prosecute a man named M'Gwire in 1887; it was Eltham, and the watch was returned to me next morning, so I did not prosecute—I have not prosecuted anybody besides Dolling for stealing a watch—I did not prosecute a man named Sheeley—I have had
some dozens of watches; I deal in them sometimes—I was called on to assist the police in the Edgware Road, and was knocked insensible—in Dolling's case there was not sufficient evidence, and the Magistrate disissed it—this (A chain) was in my possession at the time—at the station I gave Whelan's nickname, "Countryman," as the person who assaulted me—I did not mention Kennedy, because I did not know him as Kennedy.
Cross-examined by Whelan. When you ran I tried to keep up with you, but was compelled to stop, from loss of blood—you ran towards the Type Lodging-house—I did not have nine months in 1884, I was never convicted in my life—I was arrested next morning for passing a shilling.
Cross-examined by Morgan. You kicked me on my privates, but I did my best to go after you—I mentioned the kick to the doctor; I had to lie sent to the hospital—I cannot swear which of the two kicked me.
JOHN ROSENPETER (Detective K). On the evening of 8th September I was in Dalston Lane, and saw Kennedy—I told him I should take him in custody for robbing a man named Bartlett in Dalston Lane—he said, "All right, this is got up for me; it was the other man with the longish nose"—I said, "You will lie put up for identification; you will then have an opportunity of seeing him—we arrested the other two—they were taken to the station, placed with six others, and he identified Kennedy as soon as he came into the room, and as he went out he identified Whelan and Morgan—it is a very narrow place.
RANDALL HODGSON (Detective J). On the evening of June 18th I was with another detective in Kingsland Road, and saw Whelan—I told him I should take him on a warrant for assaulting and robbing a man in Dalston, with two others—he said, "All right, governor, I will come with you; I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, where he was placed with the other two prisoners and six other men, and Bartlett identified him—when he was charged he said, "I never saw the man before"—about seven p.m. I saw Morgan in Kingsland Road, and told him I should take him for being concerned with two others in assaulting and robbing a man in Dalston Lane—when he was charged at the station he said, "I did not assault anyone."
CHARLES HOWARD JACKSON . I am the Divisional Police Surgeon—I saw Bartlett on this night—he was suffering from a severe contused wound of his left elbow and a severe wound on the left side of his chest—he was not able to move his arm—I thought there was serious injury, and sent him to the hospital—the injury was consistent with a fall with considerable violence—the skin was abraised for about an inch, and the parts were all swollen up owing to the bruising, and there was a deep blue rich colour—the wound on the chest was severe, but not so severe as that on the arm—this was three hours after the occurrence.
Cross-examined. I should not have expected so large an amount of injury from a fall on the pavement, especially that on the elbow—some of the injuries might have been caused by a fall, but not all—the man could not have sustained that injury to his elbow by falling down—he was not sober—I saw him at the station about eight o'clock—he had not been there ever since six o'clock, he had gone away and come back—I cannot say whether the drink was recent or wearing off—he might have been drunk at five or six o'clock, and had the effect still on him.
Re-examined. The bruise was on the lower part of the chest, on the ribs.
J. ROSENPETER (Re-examined). Bartlett was sober when he came to the station at six o'clock—he went away after reporting his loss, and he as fetched again when the prisoner was taken, and I think he had had the drink in the meantime—he had had the drink before he identified the risoners—he was in the station about half an hour, waiting for the doctor, and then he came over drowsy and sleepy.
Witness for Kennedy's Defence.
ELIZABETH O'SHAUNESSEY . I live at 100, St. Alban's Buildings, Gray's Inn Road, and am engaged to be married to the prisoner Kennedy—on 18th September I met him at five o'clock at the corner of Kingsland Road and Ball's Pond Road, and was with him till he was arrested—at a few minutes to six he went into the lavatory at Dalston Station as I brought him a clean shirt, and he went down and changed it, and brought back the dirty shirt in his hand, and I went with him to the Railway Tavern about half an hour till the prosecutor came—about six o'clock, or a little after, I sent Mr. Field, who was with me, to fetch him, and Field came up the steps with his wife and the prisoner—he only left me a few minutes while he changed his shirt.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. It would not be correct to say that we were at Dalston about five o'clock—there is no great distance between the two places—he did not speak to anyone but me the whole time.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
LAURA HAMILTON . I live at Lockridge House, Marlborough—on September 22nd I drew this cheques for £3 8s. 10d., and directed it to Mrs. Rhind, 2, Glendower Place, London, and put it in a box in the hall about eleven a.m., which was emptied by my servant and given to a person who calls at the house to collect the letters.
ROBERT HENRY BEARNE . I am sorting clerk at the Marlborough Post Office—letters are brought by Russ at 11.55—any letter directed to Kensington would leave for Paddington at one o'clock—on September 22nd, Russ brought me the letters in the ordinary course and they went to Paddington.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The sorting clerk had access to the letters.
FREDERICK SAMUEL WILSON . I am inspector at the South-Western District Office—letters sent from Marlborough to London at one o'clock would arrive at Paddington at 5.45, and would be dispatched to South Kensington at 6.50.
ALEXANDER EDWARD ELLIOTT . I am overseer at South Kensington Sorting Office—letters arrive there at 7.10 p.m.—the prisoner has been employed there as an auxiliary since July—he came on duty at 7.5, five minutes before the arrival of the bag, for the 7.30 delivery—it was his duty to take part in sorting letters for that delivery.
WILLIAM ALEXANDER RHIND . I trade as Mrs. Rhind, ladies' outfitter, at South Kensington—this cheque did not reach my hands, nor did any letter from Miss Hamilton—I received a letter from her three or four days after)wards complaining.
EDWARD GEORGE BARNES . I am a grocer, of 78, Queen's Road, Chelsea—on Friday evening, September 22nd, the prisoner came and said, "I have received a cheque for my wife; will you change it?"—I said, "Certainly," and next evening he brought me this cheque, and I gave him £3 8s. 10d. for it.
Cross-examined. It was endorsed "Jane Klintt" when I received it—I know your signature perfectly well—I thought it was all right, your name being Klintt—you told me your wife was an invalid.
FREDERICK WILLIAM WOODARD . I am a clerk in the confidential enquiry branch of the General Post Office—in consequence of a complaint I saw the prisoner at the chief office—he was going out on the 7.30 delivery, and at my request Mr. Elliott examined his letters, and found six letters not in his delivery—I then said, "On September 23rd you presented at the shop of Mr. Barnes, the grocer, this cheque"—he said, "I know Mr. Barnes, but I did not present the cheque"—I said, "Mr. Barnes says you came and said, "My wife will be having a cheque; will you cash it for me?" and you afterwards came and presented the cheque and had the money"—he said, "The last cheque I had was on Saturday; I cashed that at Mr. Barnes'"—I told him the cheque was posted at Marlborough—he said, "I know nothing about it, and told Mr. Barnes to send the lady to me if she came to the shop"—that was on the night of 9th October—I gave him in custody—I have got the envelope.
The prisoner in his defence contended that it was not likely lie would make himself a felon for the sake of a few pounds, and risk the loss of his pension from the Army and his position in life.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
HENRY SIMPSON . I am a cashier at the Covent Garden branch of the Capital and Counties Bank—on the afternoon of September 30th the prisoner came and presented this cheque—I took it to the manager, Mr. Blake.
JOHN WILLIAM DENNIS . I am one of the firm of Dennis and Sons, fruit brokers, of Co vent Garden—this cheque has not my signature, nor did I authorise the prisoner to draw it—eight cheques are missing from my cheque-book, which is two pages, and this is the first of them—I never saw the prisoner before—some of the signatures on this paper (Found at the prisoner's house) are very good imitations of my signature, but some are very poor.
JOHN MCCARTHY (Detective E). On the afternoon of 14th September I was called to the Capital and Counties Bank, and found the prisoner in the manager's room, who told me he had presented a cheque which had been declared by Mr. Dennis to be forged—I asked the prisoner to account for it—he said that it was given him by Arthur Shirley Tanner at 45, Strand, who was waiting for him, and who was about to open a public-house—I took him to the station, where he described Tanner, and said he was well known at 45, Strand, by the name of Shirley—I went there and spoke to the manager, but could not find anybody who knew him—I returned to the station, and the prisoner was charged—he said, "Quite right; I can only give one explanation, and that I have already given"—I searched his lodging, and in a locked drawer, the key of which I found attached to the prisoner's watch chain, I found a blank cheque, one of the stolen ones, and a paid cheque, which had been stolen from a bundle, and these three envelopes—the paid cheque was next in order to the one attempted to be uttered; one was 3517 and the other 3518—I found some pages from a diary, and fitted them to the prisoner's diary—they contain fac-similes of Mr. Dennis's signature, some of them very good—I found Tanner's address in the prisoner's diary—I find that Tanner was convicted and imprisoned, and was actually in gaol at the time.
FREDERICK BLAKE . I am manager of the Covent Garden branch of the Capital and Counties Bank, King Street, Covent Garden—on September 30th Mr. Simpson brought me a cheque—I examined it, went into the bank, saw the prisoner, and sent for Mr. Dennis—while I was speaking to a customer at the counter, the prisoner volunteered the statement that he knew Mr. Edwards at the head office—I had asked him before that if he had been sent by Mr. Low; he is the payee—he said "No," but Mr. Low was doing business with Mr. Dennis—later on he said he was sent by a man named Tanner, who he had known when he kept the Press. Agency at Pimlico, who was an auctioneer, and sold pictures for him—after Mr. Dennis left he said, "I have been let into this; now I shall round on them, and tell all I know."
The prisoner in his defence declared his innocence, and that lie received the cheque from Tanner', who told him to take it to the Capital and Counties Bank, and that lie had done his best to find Tanner.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, October 19th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MORRELL PLEADED GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
HENRY WEISS . I am assistant to Mr. Johnson, of 63, Charlton Street, St. Pancras—on the evening of 11th September I was serving in the shop when the prisoner came in, accompanied by another woman, and bought a hat, price 1s. 03/4d.—she placed this sovereign on the counter—I took it to the cashier, Mr. Davis—I said nothing to the prisoner about it.
DAVID DAVIS . I am an assistant at Mr. Johnson's shop—on the evening of 11th September I was at the cashier's desk, and Weiss passed me this coin—I examined it, and asked the prisoner if she knew it was bad—she said "No," she thought it was a good one—I showed the coin to Mrs. Johnson, and she told me to call a constable, and when he came she gave him the coin, and he took the prisoner into custody.
RICHARD HAYTER (673 Y). I was called to Johnson's shop, where I found the prisoner—the prosecutor's wife charged her with uttering a gilded farthing for a sovereign—she stated that a friend of hers had given her the gilded coin; she knew she had it in her purse, and that she gave it to the shopkeeper by mistake—I did not take down her words—she said she gave it to the shopkeeper thinking it was a sovereign—she did not say it was given to her, and she believed it was a sovereign; she said she knew she had it in her purse at the time—she did not say she believed it was a sovereign—she was taken to the station and formally charged with uttering; she said nothing—she gave the name and address of the man who gave it to her; she gave her name as Willis, and said she was living at the Burton Hotel, Euston Road—Mrs. Johnson handed this coin to me.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not say, "I did not know it was bad, or else I should not have come about with the money. I had it given to me thinking it was good"—you stated there distinctly you knew it was a gilded coin—I have said that before—I never mentioned until to-day that she said she knew it was a gilded farthing when she passed it off.
ANNIE DRING . lam female searcher at the Police-station to which the prisoner was brought—I searched and found on her an empty purse and two pawntickets; no money—she said her friend had given her it—she had lent him some money the day previous, and this day she had asked him to return it, and he had given her what she supposed was a sovereign—had she supposed it was a bad one she would not have tried to pass it—I never told Hayter what she told me.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this coin is a gilded farthing, with the edge engraved—the obverse is the same as that of a sovereign—it might deceive any ignorant girl.
The COMMON SERJEANT advised the JURY not to believe the evidence of Hayter, and directed that he should be reported to his superintendent.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. WOODCOCK Prosecuted.
HENRY SMITH . I live at Bloomfield Street, Paddington, and am the owner of a grey gelding, which, about three months ago, in July, I sent to Mr. Woodmore, of Stanmore—on 30th September I received a communication, in consequence of which I went to Edgware and saw Mr. Woodmore—I saw my gelding on Sunday, 1st October, at stables in front of the Crown, Cricklewood, and at the back of a butcher's, between eight and nine p.m.—I have no doubt it was my gelding—they had pulled about its tail and mane, and altered its appearance—its value was £40.
JAMES RICHARDSON . I am an ostler at the Upper Welsh Harp—on Friday morning, September 29th, about eleven or half-past eleven, Plummer brought me a note, which I have lost; it was signed "Cassidy," and asked me to take a horse in off the bearer—about nine that evening Plummer brought the grey gelding, which Smith afterwards identified as his—it stayed with me that night, and the following morning, about a quarter-past eight, when I entered the stable, I found Cassidy and Plummer trimming the gelding—these are the hairs they trimmed off—Plummer borrowed 6d. from me to give Cassidy a drink—they then went away towards Cricklewood, I believe—I next saw them at Hampstead—before they went Cassidy said in Plummer's presence that I was not to let the gelding go; whoever came for it was to pay £25 for it—on Saturday, the same day, about six or half-past six, Rawlingson came with this strip of paper, "Please let bearer have horse. You will see Jack eight p.m. to-night.—J. CASSIDY."—I gave Rawlingson the gelding, and he led it away towards Cricklewood.
JOHN GURLE . I live at Belmont Terrace, Stanmore, and am shepherd to Mr. Woodmore, and have care of his horses—on 29th September, among his horses was a grey gelding belong to Mr. Smith—I saw it between four and five on the afternoon of 29th, but not on the 30th—I have seen it since; it is the same gelding.
RICHARD JONES MORGAN . I live at Orichel Parade, Cricklewood, and am stableman there—at half-past five on Saturday evening, 30th September, Cassidy came to our stables, and told me he was going to bring a horse to show the governor about ten minutes to six—my governor is a, horse-dealer—Cassidy did not come at ten minutes to six; I went away driving at six o'clock, and did not get back till about half-past eight—I then found Smith's grey gelding loose in the coach-house; no one was with it—about nine that night I saw Cassidy at the Grown at Cricklewood, and I asked him if he was going to take the horse away, as I did not want to turn it out in the road—he told me he would take it away on the Sunday morning, if I would let it be there that Saturday night—I consented, and the horse remained there—I saw nothing more of Cassidy till half-past six on Sunday evening, when he came to the yard—I said, "Are you going to take the horse away?"—he said "No," he would take it away
the first thing on Monday morning to be shod—he went away—late that Sunday night Bannister and Smith came and knocked at my door, and asked if there was a grey gelding in our place, and Smith claimed it as his, and I gave it up and he took it away—I know nothing of Plummer; I know Cassidy, and I know Rawlingson by sight only.
JOSEPH FRENCH . I live at 4, Netherwood Street, Kilburn, and am a carman—on the evening of 30th September I saw Cassidy and Rawlingson bring a grey gelding to the yard at Cricklewood—they asked if Dick was in, meaning Morgan—I told them no; he had taken his governor to Willesden Junction—they put the gelding in a coach-house there—that gelding has since been claimed by Mr. Smith.
THOMAS BANNISTER (Detective Inspector S.) On the 1st October Smith consulted me about this horse—I went to Cricklewood, which is about three miles from Stanmore, and made inquiries, as the result of which, I took Smith about half-past nine to Mr. Hawkins' stables, where we found this grey gelding, which Smith identified and claimed as his—I had a description of three men, and about half-past ten Smith, I, and Andrews were driving up Cricklewood Lane, when I saw Plummer standing near several people outside a public-house—as he answered the description, I got out of the trap and said, in order to get him away from the crowd, "Can you get me a drink, old man?"—he said, "Oh, blimmey, I can"—we walked a little way—he said, "I am all straight, I am no b——copper"—I said, "I am. I am going to charge you with stealing a horse from Stanmore, last Friday night"—he said, "All right, I will go quietly with you"—I took him to the station—I then went to Cassidy's lodgings in Clerkenwell Lane—I found Cassidy in bed—I told him the charge, he said "All right"—he got up and dressed—I said, "I may as well tell you your pal is in custody"—he said, "I did not know I had got any pal"—I sent him to the station—the next afternoon they were charged at Edgware—when the charge was read over Plummer said, "I don't know it"—I understood him to mean he did not know where the place was from which the gelding was stolen—Cassidy said nothing—on Cassidy I found three combs, two of which are used for trimming horses, and a pair of trimming scissors—on Wednesday, Rawlingson was charged, and he said, "I admit fetching the horse away, but I deny being concerned."
FREDERICK ANDREWS (Detective S). On the 3rd October I arrested Rawlingson at Palmerston Road, Kilburn—he said, "I have been expecting you"—when the charge was read he made no remark—I found on him this written statement, which was read at the Police-court: "On Saturday evening Cassidy came to me about five p.m., and asked me to go to the Upper Welsh Harp to fetch a horse for him, as he was not in a fit state. He went into the Crown Public-house bar, got a piece of paper, and wrote a note, and gave it to me to give to the ostler, and told me to bring the horse to Mr. Hawkins, which I did, Cassidy meeting me there on my arrival with the horse, telling me to put him into a stall and tie him up. I did so. I thought Hawkins had bought the horse, and asked Cassidy to fetch it home. I had not the least idea that anything was wrong, or I would not have gone, or had anything to do with the matter. On Monday morning I was told by a gentleman that Cassidy was locked up, and then my suspicions were roused that I was led into
the affair by fetching the horse from the Harp"—I also found on him this small slip of paper, signed by Cassidy.
Plummer, in his defence, stated that he was asked to fetch the horse for half a crown, and to meet Cassidy at the Crown and hand it over to him.
Cassidy stated that Plummer told him he was going into the country to fetch a horse, and wanted a stable for it, and that lie gave him a dip of paper with the address; he asserted he did not know the horse was stolen.
Rawlingson repeated what in substance lie had given in his statement.
RAWLINGSON— NOT GUILTY . PLUMMER and CASSIDY— GUILTY . PLUMMER then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony on 4th April, 1892, at this Court; and CASSIDY to one on 24th August, 1892. PLUMMER— Three Years' Penal Servitude. CASSIDY— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SCOTT Prosecuted.
JOHN BRADY .—I am gardener to Mr. Newton, of Hendon—I shut the fowls up alive on the 4th October, and when I went to let them out on the 5th they were gone—they could not have got out without the door being opened—I afterwards saw the twenty fowls and one duck at the Police-station, when I was fetched there; they were dead—I identified them.
HENRY SEAL (173 X). On 5th October, about twelve noon, I found just beside a shed, in the Upper Welsh Harp shooting grounds, a sack containing twelve dead fowls—I replaced them, and kept observation until five p.m., when I saw the prisoner get over the fence and go straight to the shed—he lifted an empty sack off the one containing the fowls, and then lifted the sack containing the fowls, took two out of the top, undid the string, and commenced taking out the others—he looked up and saw me, and I said, "What have you got there?"—he said, "All right; I thought I was trapped; I did it myself"—I said, "You will have to go to the station with me"—I detained him at the station—Brady identified the fowls, and the prisoner was charged—the prisoner had no business at the shed.
EDWARD KITCHEN (Detective S). I received information on the morning of 5th October and went and examined Mr. Newton's premises, and found entry had been effected by passing through a gate of a convent at the back of and adjoining Mr. Newton's—there were distinct footmarks of two persons on a newly-dug bed near the fowl-house—when the charge was read to the prisoner at the station I said, "Did you hear the charge?"—he said, "Yes, but I am not going to say anything; I did it by myself."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that lie jumped over the fence for a natural purpose, and seeing the sack opened it and saw the chickens, when he was arrested.
GUILTY .— Six Weeks' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. KEELING Defended, at the request of the COURT.
The prisoner, in the hearing of the JURY, stated that he PLEADED GUILTY to indecent assault, and the JURY thereupon found him GUILTY of indecent assault.— One Year and Ten Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Friday, October 20th, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
883. HENRY HOLDEN (48) , PLEADED GUILTY to five indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of £1,000 each, having been convicted at Bath in November, 1885; also to unlawfully obtaining £5,800 by false pretences.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
PHILIP ERBACH . I am a fitter, of 258, King Street, Hammersmith—on September 13th I fastened up my house, but the fanlight over the shop door was slightly open—I was aroused by the police, and found the fanlight open about a foot—I cannot say whether that was wider than when I went to bed—if anyone cut the cord they could drop down and get in—I found a pot of jam on the pavement.
AMELIA LEWIS . I am married, and live at Park Road, Shepherds Bush—on September 13th, about 10.30, I was in King Street, and heard a smash—I went back, and saw a pot of jam, and Connell at the door, with his head and arm inside the shop—the prisoner Cull was with him, and held up his hands to catch the jam—I stood and watched, and Connell got down and insulted me—I told a constable, and Cull took a pot of jam in his hand and another in his pocket—I did not hear Connell say anything to me at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. LILY, for Connell. I had never seen the men before—there was a lamp just against the shop door—Connell had his back to me, but I saw his face distinctly when he came down—a policeman came up almost immediately, and rang the bell.
GEORGE HONEYWELL (Policeman). On 13th September the last witness made a communication to me about 10.30, and I searched round the neighbourhood and saw the two prisoners, one sitting on a seat, and the other lying on it—I waited, as it was rather a dark place, and they got up and walked up the street—I spoke to Cole; they saw that and ran away—we caught them, and I told them I should take them in custody for stealing jam—they said they knew nothing about jam.
Cross-examined by MR. LILY. The seat was about two hundred yards from the house.
Cull, and took him to Hammersmith Station, where he said, "It is only a little jam, we can get out of this; you can be squared for two bob."
Cross-examined by MR. LILY. Connell spoke to Mrs. Lewis at the station, but he did not speak very loud—I was between them.
By the JURY. The prisoners were placed with six others, and Mrs. Lewis picked them out without hesitation—she had given a description of them—no jam was found on the prisoners.
GUILTY of larceny only.
CONNELL** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on 24th August, 1891.
CONNELL— Nine Months' Hard Labour. CULL— Five Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted, and MR. MCKEEVER Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoner, by the advice of her Counsel, stated that she was GUILTY , upon which the JURY found her
GUILTY†— Six Months' Hard Labour.
886. WILLIAM PEARCE (38), DANIEL HENESSEY (16), and HENRY ARMSTRONG (22) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Isaac Rosenberg, with intent to steal; Pearce having been convicted at Clerkenwell, in the name of Thomas Jackson.
PEARCE PLEADED GUILTY .
ISAAC ROSENBERG . I am a mantle maker—on October 2nd I secured my premises, and went to bed—the police called me up, and I found the top bolt of the door had been undone; there was a hole in the fanlight before, but the bolt was too far down for anybody to put his hand in and open it, but it was large enough—I found a larger hole.
THOMAS SMART (658 City). On 2nd October, about 11.40 p.m., I was watching exactly opposite these premises, in plain clothes with Detective Kendall, in consequence of information—there was a lamp opposite the prosecutor's door—I saw Pearce and three men not in custody hanging about in a supicious manner—Pearce pushed the door of No. 78, looked at the window and walked away—I was sitting on a doorstep nearly opposite—Pearce returned and pressed his back against the door, and came back and tried the same thing again—we separated, and I went along Brick Lane—they could see me, but I was disguised in rough clothes—Pearce and the other three returned, and went to the door two or three times; Henessey and Armstrong came along Brick Lane and crossed it—Pearce, who had a sack on his arm, and the two other prisoners here came and shook me, and said, "Halloa, old man, what are you doing here?"—I said, "Leave me alone, I am all right"—they lifted me, but I fell back again into my seat—Armstrong said, "I will settle him if he will not go," and knocked me down and kicked me on my right jaw and said, "That will do for him"—Henessey was with Armstrong at that time, and the man not in custody put a sack on his back—I heard a smashing of glass, and saw Armstrong put his hand through the fanlight—I took Pearce into custody and told him the charge—Henessey and Armstrong went over Brick Lane aad were stopped; the other men ran away—at the station Pearce said, "I have done it; if you had waited five minutes longer you would have had a good job; you would have had us inside."
Cross-examined by Armstrong. I was sitting on the doorstep with my
elbows on my knees looking through my fingers—you came on my right side, Henessey was in front of me—you kicked me on the jaw.
SIDNEY KENDALL (Detective H). I was with the other officers on the 2nd—I was in plain clothes in a doorway on the opposite side of the street some twenty yards off—I saw a tall man place his head against the door, and another man placed a sack, and another man got on his back—the men had passed me before, and had gone up to the door several times before—I knew Armstrong, but not Henessey, before—I was not near enough to distinguish whether it was Armstrong, but I am certain Armstrong went to the door two or three times—I found the fanlight over the door was broken, large enough for a man's body to get in, although previously there had been a very small hole, which was forty inches from the lock—the bolt was pulled tack; I tried it—Armstrong was walking when I arrested him.
Cross-examined by Armstrong. Four of the men passed me about 11.50 first, and at one o'clock and 1.10—there were four before a quarter to one and six afterwards—Pearce was one of the four—there was a woman in the doorway.
Cross-examined by Henessey. I saw you come across the road from Brick Lane to Church Street—it was a quarter of an hour before you were arrested that you went to the woman; she halloaed out to you not to knock the man about.
ROBERT TYSON (Policeman H). I was with the other officers—I saw Pearce knocking at the door early in the evening, and about 12.45 I saw Armstrong and Henessey there—I was five or six yards off in a doorway—I could see fairly well; there was a lamp in a doorway—I arrested Henessey a few doors off—I saw Pearce push the door and go away, and come back and push it again—Armstrong put his head against the door, and Henessey helped Pearce when he put his arm through the window—Henessey was walking when I arrested him, but he began to run—he said he knew nothing about it—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined by Armstrong. I did not search you—I found nothing on Henessey—you were not thirty yards up Church Street—I saw you cross the road and kick Smart; you had a look at him before you hit him—you were right in front of him—you got hold of him and tried to pull him up and then kicked him; I do not know with which leg, but I saw your leg go.
Re-examined. No property was taken from the premises.
WILLIAM PEARCE (the prisoner). About 12.20 on this night I committed this burglary—I tried to open the door but could not—we waited till the houses were shut up, and I said to a man not in custody, "Let me get on your back"—I decline to give that man's name, I do not think it is my duty to my fellow man—I should think it my duty to screen all my accomplices if I could—I pulled the door and saw these two men—I said, "Who are those two men?' and the policeman came and caught me—I do not believe I ever saw these two men before in my life—they are innocent, and I take my dying oath of it; I do not want two innocent men sent to prison.
Armstrong, in his defence, stated that he left his brother at London Bridge at 12.10, and went to the Star Public-house till 12.30, when he went out and met Henessey, and seeing a man and a woman in a doorway he went up to them, and the policeman took hold of them and charged them because they
could not catch the other four, and that lie never saw Pearce till he was put the dock at the station.
Henessey stated that he came out of the public-house, and a woman called Armstrong over, and lie walked on and was taken in charge.
ARMSTRONG then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Clerkenwell on November 21st, 1891.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
HENESSEY†— Six Months' Hard Labour. PEARCE— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
The GRAND JURY gave a certificate of Smart's good conduct, and the COURT made him an award of £5.
MR. BESLEY Prosecuted.
HENRY BOVEY . I am employed by Kearley and Tonge, provision merchants, of Mitre Square, Aldgate—on September 21st I locked up the ground floor and the first floor—the first floor contained grocery, and the ground floor tea—I handed these keys to Mr. Fletcher next morning about 6.45, before I went to the warehouse—I went to the premises on the Friday about 6.30 a.m. but did not know the state of things on the first floor; the counting-house is a separate building—I did not go to the warehouse at all—I did not know about the ground floor being tampered with till afterwards—there was nothing wrong with the fastenings on the ground floor—the first floor window was open, and the catch gone.
ENOCH FLETCHER . I am foreman of the grocery department at Kearley and Tonge's—on Thursday, September 21st, I left the premises about six o'clock—the grocery department was locked up; the window was safe, with the catch on it, and every place was safe—when I got there the next morning at 7.40 the door had been unlocked by the caretaker—I found the first floor window open, the catch broken, and the place in disorder—I missed 91/2 lbs. of tobacco and a small quantity of soap—they had succeeded in breaking another door on the ground floor, but could not get to the counting-house or the safe on account of an iron door—I missed a coat and waistcoat, which I have not seen since.
JOHN CHARLES JONES . I am employed at Kearley and Tonge's—on Thursday, September 21st, I left between six and 6.30, leaving a coat and waistcoat in the office of the delivery department—they were gone on Friday morning, and the place had been entered—these are them; I saw them at nine next day, and identified them.
THOMAS ABBOT (City Detective Sergeant). I received information, and found the prisoners at Bishopsgate Station in custody on another charge—Taylor was wearing this coat—I took it off him and sent for Jones, who examined it, and Taylor put it on again—Charlton was put in cell No. 2 and Taylor in No. 3, and about half an hour afterwards they were brought into the charge-room and I told them they would be charged with breaking into Kearley and Tonge's warehouse on September 21st and 22nd—they both said they were hopping at the time, and Taylor said, "I bought that coat of a man in Petticoat Lane yesterday week."
HERBERT RUSHTON (905 City). On Monday morning, October 9th, it was my duty to clean cell No. 1 at Bishopsgate. Station; I was not there for the purpose of hearing anything—I knew there was a prisoner in cell
No. 2, but did not know his name—I heard him say, "Halloa, Loo," and a prisoner in No. 3 said, "Halloa"—Charlton said, "Have they got your coat?"—Taylor said, "Yes"—Charlton said, "You are done; you are sure to get lagged now"—Taylor said, "I know, but I am going to stick it out that I bought it in the Lane, outside a coffee-stall, of a man who sells old railway clothing"—Charlton said, "All right; my—ring has gone now, I expect, don't you?"—Taylor said, "Yes"—Charlton said, "I thought he would tumble to the coat this morning, I saw him eyeing it up and down"—Taylor said, "Yes"—a few minutes afterwards Taylor came to the cell door and said, "Alf"—Charlton said, "Halloa"—Taylor said, "How long is it since we done Kearley and Tonge's?"—Charlton said, "Oh, some time now, about five weeks ago"—I stepped out and said, "Oh, about five weeks ago, was it?"—they said no more—I wrote this down at the time.
Cross-examined by Taylor. You did not say that you went hopping about five weeks ago.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Charlton says: "I know nothing about this charge." Taylor says: "About the conversation we had in the cell, I asked Charlton if he knew the day we went hopping. He said, 'Four or five weeks ago.' Is not he right about the coat? He said, 'How about my ring?' and the man stepped out and said, Four or five weeks ago, was it?'" They repealed the same in their defences, and requested to be sent to sea.
GUILTY .—They then
PLEADED GUILTY to previous convictions, CHARLTON** in September l, 1891, and TAYLOR** on December 5th, 1892.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
RICHARD BACK . I am a blacksmith, of 41, Commercial Street—on October 3rd I was going down a road near Spitalfields Church after a lodging, and two or three men seized me by my throat from behind—I tried to prevent them getting the money out of my pocket, but they got it—I could not cry out.
Cross-examined by MR. K. FRITH. I do not recognise the prisoner.
ALBERT BARNETT (Policeman). On October 3rd, just before one a.m., I was on duty in Dorset Street, near Spitalfields Church, and saw four men standing against a wall—someone said, "Police!" and I ran along a dead wall, and saw Back thrown out into the middle of the road, and saw the prisoner with his arms like this; I was not an arm's length from him—I caught him eight or nine yards off—Constable Smith came up in a second.
Cross-examined. I knew the prisoner before—he has not complained about my coming up the court and having beer, nor has his wife; it is an untruth—the man was not in the company of a woman, but a woman came with Back to the station—it is not true that the woman and I went to the bottom of Dorset Street, and that she brought two constables—there are a lot of public-houses in Dorset Street—the prisoner has never suggested my having been up the court while on duty—I did not say, "This is him" when I laid hold of him—he said, "You have got the wrong one; you have locked me up for mere spite"—that was nothing more than I expected, because I saw him the
night before with a drunken sailor, and I told him if I saw it again I should take him to the station—he is a man I should not like to associate with—he did not say, "My wife got on to you about your taking beer, up the court a few days ago—I do not know that you cannot call his wife—I have been in the force over four years—he did not say that quite a month before, his wife and another woman had been standing at the corner of the street, and, seeing I was going up this court to get beer, reported me to the inspector; nothing of the kind—his wife was not present when I took him in custody—I did not say, "I have had two more half-pints up the court"—there is not a word of truth in it—I did not say, Oh, well, I may catch the weasel asleep," it is utterly untrue—nobody was present but another officer when I caught the prisoner—the Magistrate asked me if I knew the woman—I said, "I know a woman he knocks about with"—I have no doubt now that he is married to the woman, but I had (Looking at a paper)—I do not know whether she is his wife or not.
CHARLES SMITH (135 H). On October 3rd, about one p.m., I was in Dorset Street, Spitalfields, and saw four men against a dead wall—three were close to the wall, and the prisoner had hold of the middle man by the neck with his left hand, holding him by his throat tight against the wall; he seemed to be choking—I got about five yards closer, when the prisoner drew him from the wall with his left hand and struck him with his right, and sent him into the middle of the street, and ran away, and I saw Barnett catch him.
Cross-examined. He was arrested thirty or thirty-five yards from where the robbery took place—I was within eighteen or nineteen yards when it was done—the prisoner was facing the prosecutor, but his side face was towards me—that is all I have to go by.
Re-examined. I am clear that the prisoner is the man I saw holding Back against the wall—I never lost sight of him.
GUILTY . He then
MR. HOPKINS Prosecuted.
JOSEPH SIMPSON . I am a fur skin dresser, and live at 38, Spelman Street, Bethnal Green—on Saturday night, September 30th, I was at the Seven Stars, Brick Lane, and saw the prisoner there—I was not sober—he asked me if I would treat him—I said "No, I don't know you to treat you to any beer"—he said, "You are a good sort of chap"—I called for a pot of ale; he drank out of it and went out—I had 16s. 1d. left in my pocket—I went out and went on the opposite side of Brick Lane where the Bee Hive lodging-house is, opposite which the prisoner came up with two men, and said, "I thought it was you"—the flaps of my trousers and my pockets were all undone, and the prisoner knocked me down—he took my hat, and it was found at the lodging-house—I had to go to the London Hospital—I lost sixteen shillings; a penny was left in my pocket—I had a regular struggle on the ground with the prisoner—I shouted out for help, and saw him run into the lodging-house with my hat, and left his cap in my possession.
JOSEPH ABRAHAMS . I am a boot laster, of 5, Bool Street, Brick Lane,—on the night of September 30th I was in Brick Lane, heard somebody call out for help, and saw the prisoner on top of the prosecutor, kicking him on his elbows, and two others who ran away—it was right opposite the Bee Hive lodging-house—I went and got a constable; and then he was gone—Simpson had a black cap in his hand—I did not say before the Magistrate that I saw the prisoner standing by the prosecutor—I heard my evidence read over to me.
Cross-examined. I did not say before the Magistrate that I saw you strike Simpson on his chest, and go into the lodging-house—I never said anything about the money till I was outside the Station-house—there was a girl there, but she ran away.
By the COURT. I said before the Magistrate, "I saw the prosecutor lying on the footway; two men ran away, and the prisoner was standing beside him hitting him"—I did not say "standing"—I said, "I saw the prisoner run into a lodging-house"—I do not know him, and have no grudge against him—I do not know the prosecutor.
JAMES HOLLAND (149 H). On September 30th, about 11.20, I was on duty in Brick Lane—I received information, and saw the prosecutor surrounded by a large crowd of people—he had this cap in his possession—in consequence of what he said I went to the Temperance lodging-house, 59, Brick Lane, and found the prosecutor's hat on the stairs—I went up, and found the prisoner in bed with his clothes on—the prosecutor was present—the prisoner said he knew nothing about it; he had been to bed, and did not know what he had been doing all the afternoon—the bed was made, and he was lying on the top of the bed clothes—he had been drinking, and so had the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. You had not your cap in your inside pocket; every pocket was searched—your coat was taken off in the station.
JOSEPH SIMPSON (Re-examined.) This is the hat which was restored to me by the police—this cap I took from the prisoner's head, and he had no cap when he was taken to the station—I picked him off the bed.
Prisoner's defence. I came home intoxicated, and was lying on the bed recovering from the effects of drink, and only had one shilling and ninepence in my possession; you cannot make sixteen shillings of one shilling and ninepence. The Bee Hive is only outside the door, and is frequented by prostitutes, and if he went in there with money he would not come out with money.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, October 20th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
The first witness, in the course of his examination, admitted that he had retained one-fifth of the prisoner's commission on account of bad debts, and had never rendered the prisoner any account. The JURY stated that they thought the case should not go on, and returned a verdict of.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted; Mr. WARBURTON Defended Wilson, and MR. SANDS Defended Sawyer.
EDWARD PEARCE . I am a builder, living at 37, Bowcarn Street,. Hackney—on Friday, 8th September, about half-past four, I was in the Cattle Market, Islington—Sawyer called me, and said., "Excuse me, will you tell me where the auction rooms to sell horses are?"—I was explaining as near as I could, when Wilson came up and said to Sawyer, "Will you take the £24 I offered for the horse?"—Sawyer said he would not have anything to do with him or his money; his (Wilson's) man had insulted him—Wilson called me on one side and asked me, "Will you buy the horse of your friend?"—I said, "He is no friend of mind, no more than youare"—he said, "If you will buy the horse I will give you £2 for your trouble," or "commission"—I said, "I do not want anything to do with it," and then he said he was buying for the London General Omnibus Company—he said the horse was a good horse, sound and perfect, and was worth £35 to the company—I went back with Wilson to Sawyer, and tried to persuade him to sell the horse to Wilson, as I had no money—Sawyer said he would not have anything to do with him or his money on the second occasion—I said the only way I could buy it was by cheque—Sawyer agreed to take the cheque, and we went to the Lamb Public-house, at the corner of the market—I wrote a cheque for £24—a man whom Sawyer described as his brother-in-law followed us to the Lamb, and objected to the cheque—he, Wilson and some of their friends followed us to the Lamb—the brother-in-law persuaded Sawyer not to take the cheque as he had got into trouble before with one—Wilson heard what was said, and offered me the money again to pay; he began to count gold and notes into my hand, to see if Sawyer would take it that way, because he would not take the cheque—he had only got a few pounds into my hands, when Sawyer said, "I have told you I shan't have your money"—Wilson said, "Have you any money with you, so that you can pay a deposit, to make the rest secure?"—I said, "I have £2"—I gave that to Sawyer, and he tore up the receipt for £24 and made out this one: "Sold to Mr. Pearce, a black mare for the sum of £24. Paid on account, £2, leaving £22 to be paid before delivery"—I wrote a second cheque for £22—Sawyer asked me if I could go into the market and get it changed—I went into the market to see if I could get the cheque changed—a friend of the prisoners' went with me—the bank was closed, and I had to get the money from one or two tradesmen in Hackney—I returned to the market with the money alout ten minutes to six—I paid the money to Sawyer—before paying it I said to Wilson, "Do you mean to have the horse? If not, I am not going on with it"—he said, "Yes," and smacked my hand on the deal—Sawyer delivered me the horse—I looked round then for Wilson, and I could not see him; he was gone—a number of the prisoners' friends began hitting the horse with whips, and running it up to make it roar, and it lid roar after it had been running a little—some of the friends offered me 30s. and 35s. for the horse for knacker's price—ultimately I sold the horse to a greengrocer or dealer for £3, half or three-quarters of an hour afterwards—I gave information to the police on the following Wednesday and
took a warrant out, after taking Mr. Rickett's advice—on the 15th, the following Friday, I pointed out Wilson to an officer; he was with Sawyer's brother-in-law and a man who had held the horse—I am quite certain Wilson is the man who was with Sawyer; I was never more certain in my life.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I went to the market to buy a bit for my pony—the description I gave of Wilson was medium height, closely shaven, and wearing an ulster coat—I made a mistake in his height—he had a moustache, but when I called him clean shaven I was speaking of the side of his face; I did not mean that he had no hair on his face—as near as I can say it was between a quarter-past to half-past four I first saw Wilson—I don't remember saying before the Magistrate that it was between four and 4.15—Wilson was wearing an ulster when we were doing the deal—I know that Riley was taken to identify Wilson, and failed to do so; I was outside at the time—another man, Buston, also failed, and was called by the prisoners as a witness—those two men turned out to be friends of the prisoners—Riley was there when he saw me take the money over, and he saw Wilson agree—I saw Riley again on Saturday, the 16th, in Wells Street, close to my yard, with two men, who came down to square the job for the prisoner Wilson—one of the men with him was Griffiths, and the other, Griffiths told me, was Wilson's cousin—as the result of my conversation with them I communicated with Mr. Ricketts, and after that Riley and Buston went to see if they could identify Wilson, and they could not identify him—Riley was called at the Police-court as a witness for the prisoners—Buston was there on the 8th, when I paid the money—I saw him in Wells Street on the Saturday after the prisoners were apprehended, and asked him if he would be a witness; he gave the address, 4, Margaret Street, Wells Street—on Sunday, the 17th, I was going there with a detective, when I met one of his friends, and then I went to Grandstow Avenue, Mare Street, about five minutes' walk from Margaret Street, where I saw Buston—he was afterwards called by Wilson for the defence—I might have had a glass of beer before going to the market; I was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I am not a judge of horses—I had never bought a horse before; I had. bought a pony—I was talking to Sawyer for about five minutes before the other man came up—I did not care about the value of the horse; I left that to Wilson—Sawyer went away when I had paid him—he heard everything that was said—I had no stable for the horse, and did not want it—so many of Wilson's friends were running it up and down and lathering me that I did not know what to do with it—I have seen Wilson with those men—there were a number of people about—none of them were my friends—I saw three or four of them out of the eight or nine speaking to Sawyer while we were in the Court—one of the men hustling the horse was a friend of Sawyer's, because he came and offered the money afterwards; he was Sawyer's brother-in-law—I sold the horse half-an-hour after buying it—I said before the Magistrate that there were eight or nine friends of the prisoners' hustling the horse about—Riley gave me £3 for the horse—I did not see him speaking to Sawyer—I have seen him in Wilson's company, not in Sawyer's.
Re-examined. I believed the coins put into my hands to be genuine;
I did not examine them—no money was shown to me when Riley and Griffiths came to see me.
FREDERICK COLE (Detective Y). About six p.m. on 15th September the prosecutor pointed out Wilson to me in the Metropolitan Cattle Market—I told him I had a warrant for his arrest for fraud, and should take him into custody—I took him to the station, and read the warrant to him; it charged him with conspiring with another man, on 8th September, and defrauding Pearce of £24—he made no answer—I found on him a, £5 Bank of England note, £20 10s. in gold, 7s. 6d. in silver, and 7d. in bronze—he said he was a home dealer, and had got no home—on 2nd October, about two p.m., I went with Pearce to Croydon Pair, and there he pointed out to me Sawyer—I. told him I held a warrant for his arrest for conspiring with Wilson and defrauding Pearce of £24—he made no answer then—on the way to the Croydon Station he said, "I admit selling this mare to him" (pointing to the prosecutor), "but I know nothing about a case of fraud"—I found this pocket-book on him.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. Wilson did not mumble something to the effect that he was not guilty—I have since found out where he lives.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I have seen the prisoners together on several occasions at the Metropolitan Cattle Market on Fridays, which is the horse sale day—I have seen Wilson about the market with a great many other people as well.
By the COURT. I am quite sure that when Wilson was arrested he made no reply to the charge—he did not mumble something that I did not hear.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Wilson says: "I am not guilty. "Sawyer says: "I sold him the horse, but not with this other prisoner."
Witnesses for tine Defence of Wilson.
WILLIAM FREDERICK EWER . I am a carman and contractor, of 3, Albert Buildings, Leonard Street, Finsbury, and have had mews for five years in Rivington Street, Shoreditch—on Friday, 8th September, I was with Wilson in my mews, which are three or four miles from Islington Cattle Market, from twelve to one, and again from two till 3.30 or 3.45—I should go from my mews to the Cattle Market by the North London Railway to Barnsbury—I have known Wilson for two or three years; he has always borne the character of a thoroughly respectable, honest, and upright man; he is a horse dealer, and has bought horses for me.
Cross-examined. I did not know Wilson before he came to London—I did not know that on 8th April, 1890, he was convicted at Beverley, Yorkshire, in the name of William Young, of stealing, with another man, a brown mare of the value of £30, and was sentenced to twelve months' hard labour—the last I saw of him on 8th September was about 3.45—it was past three—we had a glass of ale, and I saw the time by the public-house clock—I could not say for certain if I looked at the clock; it was about half-past three or four—I do not know that public-house clocks are kept fast—I had seen Wilson before at my stables; he would bring anything round if he thought it would suit me—I saw him once or twice a month—I went to see him on the Monday week, I think, after this happened, and his wife told me about it—I don't know Pearce or Sawyer.
Market on 8th September and asked me if I had seen Mr. Trowers, who is a horse dealer in the market—the horse at that time was tied up, with a man at its head—I was not there when the horse was sold—I did not see Wilson there—on Sunday, 10th, Pearce came to my house; he knew my address by living just opposite to me—he said, "Would you mind coming up as witness for me on the case of this horse I bought?"—he wanted me to identify the people from whom he bought the horse—I did not see him buy it, but I saw him after he had bought it and paid £2 deposit, and I saw him pay the £22—I said I should know the people again—I knew Wilson; I have met him in the market dealing; he was not there on 8th—I have never seen Wilson wearing an ulster—I went in to identify the man who was supposed to promise to give £2 profit, and I could not see him—I saw a man in an ulster at the Cattle Market that day in conversation with Pearce; that man was not Wilson; he was shorter, and had no hair on his face, not even a moustache—I had seen Wilson on the Friday before 8th September at the Cattle Market; he then had a moustache and whiskers, as he has now.
Cross-examined. The first I saw of the transaction was when the £22 was paid in the Lamb—I went with Pearce when he came back, to see it paid—I had spoken to none of the parties till Pearce called my attention to it when he came back, before he went in—I saw Sawyer when we went in, and there was another man with an overcoat on, but he was not Wilson—I bought the horse from Pearce for £3, and I sold it for £4—I had often seen Sawyer before, but not the man in the ulster—I did not pay Pearce a visit—I do not know Griffiths, nor a man who represents himself as Wilson's cousin—I swear I did not go with Griffiths and another man to see Pearce the day after Wilson was arrested—one of us did not offer Pearce £10 if he would not go to the Police-court to give evidence against Wilson—on February 4th, 1889, I was convicted at the North London Sessions of horse stealing, and sentenced to five years' penal servitude—that was my first conviction—I have known William Buston a long while—I did hot go with him and a third man to Pearce on September 16th.
WILLIAM BUSTON . I live at 24, Grandstow Avenue, Mare Street, Hackney, and am a carpenter—I was with Riley in the market on September 8th; Pearce came up and asked Riley whether he could cash a cheque for him—Riley said "No," he never had enough money with him—I did not see Wilson there—I should know him if I were to see him—he is no friend of mine, but a stranger to me—Pearce came to my house on Sunday morning, and asked me to go and identify someone at the Police-court—I went, but failed to identify Wilson, and I was called by the prisoners as their witness—I saw a man at the market in an ulster—he was not quite so big as Wilson; I could not say whether he was clean shaven; I have seen him in the market lots of times before.
Cross-examined. I did not see Sawyer and others go into the Lamb, nor did I see Pearce give Sawyer any money—the man in the ulster was not talking to Sawyer; he had nothing to do with him that I know of—I had often seen the man in the ulster before—I know Riley—he was with me when I saw the man in the ulster—Riley saw as much of the transaction as I did—I was not with him all the time—I did not see him buy the horse—I saw him go into the Lamb, and come out—I had not seen Sawyer with anyone else I before he went into the Land)—someone told me when Wilson was locked up; I did not know him I before—I was told next
day that a man Pearce was with in the market had got locked up—I am generally with Riley.—on Saturday, 16th, I was with him—I don't know Griffiths—no one else was with me and Riley on 16th—I cannot say whether it was on that day, but I was with Pearce and Riley in a public-house, the Northumberland Arms—nothing was said about £10—another man, whose name I don't know, was there—he and Pearce were talking together—I told Pearce I lived at 4, Margaret Street—my mother lived there; I do not; I told him that was where he could find me—on 18th October, 1890, I was charged with stealing a purse and discharged—on 20th February, 1890, I was charged at Dalston with stealing clothing of the value of £11 10s., and got six months—on 2nd September, 1891, I was charged at Dalston with stealing a perambulator and assault, and I got six weeks' hard labour.
Evidence in Reply.
MOSES WILLIAM EMPERINGHAM . I am a warder at Hull Prison—I produce this certificate of conviction of William Young—Wilson is the person referred to in it—he was in my custody during the twelve months of his sentence at Hull Gaol—he was under my charge, and I saw him daily.
WILSON— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
SAWYER— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, October 21st, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
FRANK SPINK . I am a clerk, of 96, Wick Road—Frederick Hunt lived at 25, Wick Road, in the same room with his father, and the prisoner's brother also lodged in that house—on Saturday, September 16th, about eleven, I was in the passage of No. 25 with the deceased, talking with him for a considerable time—the prisoner and his brother came in, I believe, with the prisoner's wife—the prisoner made use of a vulgar expression to the wife—Hunt demanded the rent—the prisoner said, "Give me time; I will pay you on Monday"—they were ascending the stairs—Hunt was standing at the foot of the stairs, and tried to prevent them going up the stairs—a scuffle ensued, and a blow was struck by the prisoner, which knocked Hunt down insensible in the passage—the blow was
with the fist and rather a violent blow—I picked him up, put him on a chair, and then left him in charge of a woman; I do not know who she was—at the time the blow was struck the prisoner said, "Let me get at him; I will kill the b——I went home, and saw nothing afterwards.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I could not tell who went upstairs first—you were on the third stair—it was not dark—Hunt struck at you, there was a struggle, you hit him, and you fell together—when he asked you for the rent he pulled oft' his coat to fight you; that was in the passage, in the early part of the evening—you were perfect strangers to me—I was not drunk.
Re-examined. When I picked the man up the prisoner was lying down in the passage—I did not see him get up.
JOSEPH HOLLAND . I am a general dealer, of 46, Wick Road, nearly opposite Hunt's—on 16th September, about half-past eleven, I was in my house; Mrs. Hunt was there—I heard a scream or shout, and went out, leaving Mrs. Hunt there—as I ran across to Hunt's house I saw the deceased lying in the road, directly opposite his own door; he was unconscious and motionless—I picked him up, and carried him into the house, with assistance.
Cross-examined. I was in my shop; the door was open—I was about twenty yards off when I heard the shout.
ELIZABETH DAWE . I live at 76, Wick Road—about half-past eleven, on 16th September, I was in Wick Road, five doors from Hunt's house—I saw the deceased run out from a gateway into the road, rather sharp; he fell down, and laid all of a heap—I did not go over; I saw him picked up.
JOSEPH SIMMONS (Policeman). I had a warrant for the prisoner's arrest—I arrested him on 25th September—I read the warrant to him; it was for a violent assault—he said, "All right. On the evening of the 16th I was coming upstairs; Frank Hunt stopped me, and demanded my rent. He called my wife a b——cow. What would you do in a case like that?"—I took him, with his brother, to the station—after the man died they were committed for manslaughter—he made no reply to the charge.
JAMES HENRY TURTLE . I am divisional surgeon of police, and live in Gascoign Road, South Hackney—on 16th September, about a quarter to twelve, I was called to Wick Road—I saw the deceased lying on the floor, in the back room, in the basement; he was drunk, and was suffering from a severe contusion on the left side of the forehead—there were two lacerated wounds, one very severe, and his face was covered with mud and blood, and the wound itself was all muddy—I do not think either of the injuries was caused by a blow from a fist—I think both were caused by a fall in the roadway—on 25th September I saw him again; he was then suffering from tetanus, a consequence of the injuries; he was delirious.
GEORGE AUGUSTUS HUME , M.R.C.S. On 19th September I was called to attend the deceased—I found him in bed at 25, Wick Road, with his head bandaged—I removed the bandage, and found a large contused wound on the left side of the forehead, and two lacerated wounds over it—a large quantity of matter was coming from the wounds—he also had a good deal of bruising about the left side of the neck and shoulder—I think the wound on the head was caused by a fall in the road—he died on the 28th from traumatic erysipelas, arising from the wounds.
Witnesses for the Defence.
BENJAMIN LEAH . I am the prisoner's brother—on Saturday, September 16th, I went home with him and George Carter, who was lodging with me—Hunt was standing at the bottom of the stairs—I said, "Good evening; "he did not answer—foe said, "What do you want?"—I said, "I want to go upstairs"—he said, "You can't go up"—I pushed past him, and went up—I heard a squabble below, and went down and saw my brother on the floor with Hunt—I said, "Come upstairs;" he came up—nothing further occurred—we stopped upstairs about a quarter of an hour, and then came down, the three of us—Hunt was standing at the gate—I said, "Let us pass"—he let us pass, and we went out to get a few things for my brother's wife—we came back in about a quarter of an hour—Hunt was standing at the door with another party—he made no more to-do but struck at me, missed me, and then struck at my brother, and made use of a filthy expression towards Carter, who ran away; Hunt ran after him and fell down—my brother went out to follow Carter—I saw nothing more, and heard nothing else till the police came.
Cross-examined. There were two rows; the first was in the passage—I had no row; there was a lot of squabbling in the passage—Spinks was not there then—I did not hear Hunt ask for the rent—he was in liquor—my brother's wife was not there; she was in the house—I did not hear any screaming or shouting either time.
GEORGE CARTER . I was with the last witness—Hunt stood at the bottom of the stairs and stopped Benjamin from going up, but he pushed him on one side, and went up—the prisoner wanted to go up next, and Hunt struck him—we afterwards went out to get some things; we came back in about twenty minutes, and a row began between them—Hunt said, "I will give you something," and he up with his fist, and was going to strike me—I ran out; he followed me, and I turned round and saw him fall down—the prisoner was nowhere near him.
Cross-examined. The first time I went there was about half-past ten; the prisoner's wife was with me—Spinks was there, behind the door—I did not see anyone strike Hunt; I only saw him fall down—he was intoxicated.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Saturday, October 21st 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
RICHARD BURBIDGE . I live at Barnes—I am general manager of Harrod's Stores, Limited, Brompton Road—a year or two ago I engaged the prisoner as a buyer—soon after I had to discharge him for drunkenness—ever since then I have been receiving letters from him of a libellous character—I know his writing—I have seen letters addressed to other persons concerning me in his writing—the letter of 30th August, 1893, a copy of a letter written to me, and an envelope, are in his writing—I was formerly manager at Whiteley's—a fire occurred there, and a wall fell down, and someone was killed—there was a coroner's inquest, and a verdict
of murder against some person unknown was returned—these letters addressed to Mr. White, the secretary, and to the directors of Harrod's Stores, and the envelopes, are in the prisoners writing.
Cross-examined. Before you were discharged you sent your wife with a letter stating that you were unwell, and I sent to inquire, and found you staggering in the street—I remember your saying you would appeal to the board of directors—your case was so bad I could not reinstate you—I did not dismiss you because I read your lip thought, "Surely this is the man who fired Whiteley's"—I sent for you to come to my office, and I thought you were drunk then, and I cautioned you—you said to me in the board-room, "No man ever saw me drunk on duty in his life"—I had seen you slightly the worse for drink, and I gave you full notice that at the next occurrence you would be discharged—I sent my brother, and he saw you drunk in your own house—I did not give you a second interview, because you came to my house and abused me, and called me such names that you brought the neighbours out, and I had to send for a policeman to remove you. (The RECORDER told the prisoner that, as he had not pleaded justification, lie could not go into the truth of the statements in the alleged libels.)
JAMES BAILY . I live in Essex and at Kensington—I was formerly a director of Harrod's Stores—I received these three documents and the letter of 30th August, 1893, enclosing a copy of the letter sent to Mr. Burbidge addressed to me in my capacity as director—I have received similar letters for some time past.
Cross-examined. You were discharged for drunkenness—I thought it was a most disgraceful letter to write about such an excellent servant as Mr. Burbridge; and you wrote other letters so disgusting that I refused to take any further notice—you accused him of things we knew to be false.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "It is true, and I abide by it."
The prisoner in his defence stated that he had been forced to write the letters, because Mr. Burbidge refused to hear what he had to say.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited, in, order that the prisoner might be under the observation of the medical officer. The RECORDER considered that there was not a word of truth in the allegations made against Mr. Burbidge, and with this statement the JURY concurred.
897. HERBERT OWEN SMITH (26), and PERCY MONTAGUE BENNETT (20) , to two indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of £5. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] SMITH also PLEADED GUILTY to two other indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of £5. SMITH received a good character.— Fifteen Months Hard Labour. BENNETT— Six Month' Hard Labour.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted, MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
GIOVANNI NAPOLETANA (Interpreted). I am an ice-cream vendor, of 13, Eyre Court, Holborn—on Wednesday, September 27th, I was one of a wedding party—I met the prisoner, who asked for some sweets, and eventually said, "Let us go to the bride"—we went to Donato Falcho's house at Eyre Street Hill, where the marriage was solemnised, and I asked for two glasses to drink, one for me and one for the prisoner—after he had drunk, the prisoner threw the glass on the ground—the bridegroom turned him out—I went out about two minutes after him—he had waited for me below—he asked if I had to pay for the broken glass—I told him the bridegroom did not wish to be paid for it—he began to be cross with me, took out a razor from his pocket, and began to stab me all over—before doing so he said, "I want to kill you"—he struck me seven, eight, or nine times, I could not say how often, twice on the face, once on the shoulder, once under the right arm, once on the neck—then Manchini came and took me to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I considered when the prisoner broke the glass that it was an insult to the wedding party, in consequence of which he was turned out of the room—I come from the same district in Italy as Falcho; but from a different town—the prisoner comes from a different district—I am a friend of the bridegroom—the prisoner was not kicked and struck while on the ground before he used the razor—there were not seven or eight people, friends of the bridegroom, I among them, kicking and beating him—I believe he attacked me only because he was turned out of the room.
CARLO MANCHINI . I am a hairdresser, of 38, Warner Street, Clerkenwell—on 27th September I was at this house—the prisoner left the room after the glass was broken; the prosecutor went to him—I stayed in the room—I heard a noise downstairs, and went down, and saw the prisoner lying on the ground in the footway, and the prosecutor with his hand up and his face bleeding—I took him to the hospital—I think the prisoner was a little the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor was standing up by the prisoner's side—the noise I heard in the street was of people fighting.
NICHOLO NAPOLETANA (Interpreted). I am the prosecutor's brother—I live at 3, Eyre Court—about seven p.m. on 27th September I was in the street, and saw the prisoner cutting my brother with a razor, which he took from his pocket; he was a little tipsy.
Cross-examined. I remained there till the police came—until then the prisoner was not struck or beaten by anyone—I did not run away because I was told I should be locked up—the prisoner was lying on the ground at some time—he pretended to be dead.
ANTONIO NAPOLETANA . I am an ice-cream vendor, of Eyre Street Hill—on 27th September I was at this wedding—I saw the prisoner and prosecutor fighting in the street—I took hold of the prisoner's wrist, and a razor dropped out of his hand.
Cross-examined. I was there till the constable came—I don't know if all the witnesses were talking then—I had hold of the prisoner from the back, and I consigned him to the prosecutor's brother, saying, "He has
stabbed your brother"—I don't know what the brother did, because a lot of people came in a crowd.
WILLIAM SUTTON (50 G). On 27th September I was in Eyre Street Hill—I found the prisoner lying in the footway drunk, and bleeding from the nose—he was held down by several men—I was informed he had stabbed a man, and I took him into custody—he said something to me in Italian, which I did not understand—I took him to the station—I went to the hospital, and the doctor gave me this piece of steel.
Cross-examined. Radley, my inspector, was present when the charge was taken—the prisoner was bleeding very much from the nose, and looked as if he had been very badly knocked about—he got worse as I was taking him to the station—I understand he had to have medical attendance—he was not shamming being dead when on the pavement; he was being held down.
JOHN WOOD . I am house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital—the prosecutor was brought there on 27th September—he had one wound on his face, one on the side of his neck, and one under his right arm—they were incised wounds produced by some sharp instrument—this piece of steel I found in the wound on his face—that wound went from ear to chin, and was dangerous; it has cut an important nerve, and he will probably never recover from it.
Cross-examined. His eyes and mouth will be affected, and it may bring on paralysis, and may affect his sight—it was probably given by one man facing another—it would be possible for the wound on the face to be given by a man on the ground striking up at another man over him—the deepest part of the wound is near the ear; it was down to the bone, and the lowest part of it entered into the mouth.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JAMES RADLEY (Inspector G). I was on duty at King's Cross Police-station when the prisoner was brought in in custody—he was bleeding profusely from his mouth and nose; his lips were cut, his right eye blackened, and he was covered all over with blood—his coat and shirt were smothered in blood—he seemed to have had very rough usage—he was partly conscious when brought in; he lapsed into unconsciousness, and remained so nearly all night; I got alarmed, and sent for Dr. Millar—the charge was not entered against the prisoner till the morning—I informed the Magistrate, but he did not think fit to call me.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been drinking—the bleeding from his mouth and nose might have been caused by falling; and I should say all the blood on his shirt would be caused by his nose bleeding.
Re-examined. It struck me that the state of his mouth and eye was the result of blows—his clothes were smothered with dirt.
ANGELO GARIPPO . I am an organ-grinder—I was outside 14, Eyre Street on this day, playing my organ—I saw two people disputing, and a lot of people round—I saw the prisoner fall down, and two persons kicked him when he was lying on the ground—I do not know if that was before he struck Napoletana, because I never saw the razor—the prisoner and prosecutor are strangers to me.
Cross-examined. I saw the prosecutor kick the prisoner.
JOHN ALEXANDER MILLAR (Divisional Surgeon). I was called to attend the prisoner at King's Cross Police Station—he was insensible; his face and head covered with blood, and large quantities of blood on his clothing—he had lost a great deal of blood—he was in a state of syncope—I thought he had been knocked about.
Cross-examined. His lip was cut, not dangerously; his eyes were cut, and he had a large bump near the top of his head—I think the cuts were the result of blows or kicks, not of an instrument—his wounds were not dangerous, but he had been in a state of syncope for some hours, and had some symptoms of concussion of the brain—the effects of the blows produced sickness, which satisfied me that he had been drinking—I would not say he was actually drunk.
MADAME PADRONE . I live at 15, Sumner Street—on the day of the wedding I saw the prisoner going arm-in-arm with the prosecutor to where the wedding took place—I was selling fried potatoes at the corner of the street—after that I heard everybody say that Fontana was killed, and a lot of people whistled for the police.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. WILLES Defended.
THOMAS WILDING . I live at 3, Clarence Road, Gunnersbury—on 3rd October I went to bed about 10.30—all my windows and doors were secure—about seven a.m. I was called up by my niece, went downstairs, and found a piece taken out of the scullery window, so that a hand could be put in and unfasten the button; the window was open—a man could get through it—the bolt was taken off the scullery door—I only missed this knife and small napkin, which were taken from my sitting room; other things were turned over—this handkerchief, which does not belong to me, was found in the scullery—there were marks of blood on it.
GRANT (645 T). I saw the prisoner loitering about near the Sutton Court Road, Chiswick, on the morning of October 4th, in a suspicious manner—I watched him for a considerable time, and arrested him—I searched him at the Police-station, and found on him this and another knife, and this napkin, which Mr. Wilding identified.
Cross-examined. He said nothing when charged; he did not tell me he had picked up the things.
GUILTY .*†—There was another Indictment against the prisoner for breaking into a church.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BAYLISS Prosecuted.
place—lie shut the door (Stating the facts of the last case)—he put two shillings, half a crown, and sixpence into my hand, and said, "Here you are, take this; I have got plenty more money"—I gave it back to him; he put it into my hand, and I did not see it afterwards—he threw me down on the ground on my stomach, said nothing, but began cutting the back of my neck with this knife—I screamed, and ran out—I found my hands and my neck cut, and I ran to the labour master—I suppose my hands were cut when I was trying to get hold of the knife—he said nothing when he did this—his coat was not off—the labour master took me to the infirmary.
JOHN MATHEW BEALE . I am labour master at the Edmonton Work-house—on Sunday afternoon, September 3rd, I was in my room about 1.30—I heard screams from the direction of the tower—I went there, and met Peter Tharby coming from the tower, bleeding from his neck and hands—I bound his neckerchief round his neck—I saw no one else—Tharby was holding his trousers up by one hand; his braces were undone.
JOHN NEVILLE . I am an inmate of this workhouse—on September 3rd I heard screams coming from the tower—I went towards it, and saw the prisoner running towards the stoneyard, about twelve or fourteen yards from the tower—he had no coat on—I afterwards went to look for him, and could not find him.
JAMES GRAHAM . I am master of Edmonton Union—the prisoner and prosecutor have been inmates of the workhouse the greater part of their lives—about 1.30 on 3rd September I received information, and went to the water-tower; and in the room underneath I saw blood stains on the door and floor, and this table-knife stained with blood on some pots on the floor—I went to the infirmary, where I saw Tharby, who was suffering from a number of small cuts on his throat and a deep wound on the right of his neck; he was also badly cut on his hand, and had cuts on his buttocks—from what he said to me, I went back to the tower, and found a sixpence, stained with blood, lying on the floor—Tharby is of weak intellect.
WILLIAM CAPON . I am a costermonger, of 8, Claremont Street, Upper Edmonton—on Sunday I was driving my pony down White Horse Lane, opposite the workhouse, and heard a scream from inside, and saw a man get over the workhouse wall and run across two brickfields, and get over a hedge—he had no coat on—I could not swear to him.
MICHAEL KEEN (Police Sergeant). At 2.45 on 3rd September, in conesquence of information, I went to the workhouse and examined the room—I found blood-stains on the door—the master handed me this knife and 6d.; both were stained with blood—next day I saw the prisoner, at 7.15 a.m., at Albany Street Station—he had no coat on—I told him I was a police officer, and was going to arrest him for wounding and endangering the life of Peter Tharby at Edmonton on the previous day, and I cautioned him—he said, "I know nothing about it"—he was wearing this vest—I saw blood on it, and on the sleeves and shoulder of his shirt—I said, "These are blood-stains; can you account for them?"—he seemed dazed, and made no reply—when charged at Edmonton Police-station he made no reply.
—I saw Tharby in bed; he was suffering from a deep, serious wound on the right side of his neck, about four inches long, through the muscles, and several small wounds in his neck, his right hand, and various parts—it would require considerable force to cause such a wound as that on the neck; this instrument might have caused it—it had to be stitched up with four stitches—he had two slight wounds on his right buttock—I attended him for some time—he is out of danger now—there are stains on this shirt and vest which may be blood-stains.
GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude. The RECORDER expressed his opinion that the authorities should inquire into the state of the prisoner's mind.
MR. A. B. SMITH Prosecuted.
JOHN MAYS . I am a labourer, of 11, Oakley Terrace, Lea Bridge—about 4.30 p.m. on Sunday, 8th October, I went to my gate and saw the prisoner and another boy—the prisoner was throwing stones at my fowls—I told him to be off, and if ho did not I would shift him—he said, "Come over here"—I went over, and he put a six-chambered revolver up to my face I threw my arm over my fade—I was not much more than an arm's length off him—he and the other boy went off, and I after them—they went through the posts on to the Lea fields, and there the prisoner pulled out the revolver and. said, "You come any further, and you will have this," and he fired—I was not more than three yards off, and I heard the whizzing of the bullet by me, and saw the flash—he ran me back, with the revolver in his hand, out of the road into the fields, and then I chased him into a by-street in Chatsworth Road, and he fired again, but not at me—I was not close enough to see where he fired at then—I was exhausted with running—he went into an empty house cellar—someone went in and brought him out—I lost sight of the second boy turning the corner as the prisoner fired the second shot—I heard the second shot, I did not see it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I could hear stones coming from you at my fowls.
HENRY KNIGHT . I live at 71, Goswell Road—on Sunday, 8th October, between 4.30 and five, I was with Tremlett in the South Mill fields, near the Lea fields—I heard the report of a pistol or gun, and about a minute afterwards I saw the prisoner running down the Chatsworth Road with one of his friends, and with the prosecutor after him—I heard a second report; the prisoner had turned the corner then—we followed, and when I turned the corner the prisoner was out of sight—I saw the gate of an empty house open, and went in and opened the door of the coal-hole on the left-hand side, and there the prisoner was by himself—I don't know what had become of his friend—he was behind me when the second shot was fired—I fetched the prisoner out—I did not search him—the second shot came from Saratoga Road, in front of me—I did not see the revolver, from the direction where the prisoner was, as I turned the corner, I saw smoke, as if it had come from that corner; the shot could not have been fired by anyone but the prisoner—I saw nothing more of the other boy till this week.
Cross-examined. I did not see that you were smoking.
HENRY TUTT (410 J). On Sunday afternoon, 8th October, John Mays gave the prisoner into my custody, and charged him with shooting at him with a revolver—he said, "I did not shoot at him; I have not got a revolver"—he refused to give his address at the station, and he also gave a wrong name—he made no reply in my hearing when charged at the station.
WALTER RAYBOLD . I live at 304, New North Road—on Sunday afternoon, 8th October, I was with the prisoner near Mr. Mays's gate—some stones were thrown at the fowls—Mr. Mays came out, and some words passed between him and the prisoner, who pulled out a revolver and fired very high in the air, and almost opposite to Mays—we then went away from the fields into the road, and, after we were round the road, the prisoner gave me the revolver and four cartridges, and asked me to take them home—it was not loaded then—my brother gave it and the cartridges up to Sergeant Nursey—I did not see if the prisoner took the cartridges out of the revolver, because he was round the corner before me—I only heard one shot fired—I did not say before the Magistrate, "The prisoner fired twice; once near the man, and the other over the road"—my deposition was read over to me, and I signed it—I did not hear the prisoner fire the second shot; I did not hear a second shot—I did not fire the second shot.
MONTROSE WILLIAM CHARLES FOOT . I am a packing-case maker, of 168, Glynn Road, Clapton—on this Sunday afternoon, about five, I was with Tremlett and Knight near the Lea fields—I heard a shot, and after that saw the prisoner running down the road, with the prosecutor about thirty or forty yards after him—I heard a second shot round the road.
Cross-examined. I did not see you fire the second shot; I saw the smoke of a firearm.
RICHARD NURSEY (Detective Sergeant). I produce two revolvers which I received from Raybold's brother in Raybold's presence, with these cartridges—one fits the pin-fire revolver, which it is alleged the prisoner used, and three fit the other revolver.
The prisoner called.
Cross-examined. I was with the prisoner—I knew on Monday about eleven o'clock that he was taken to the Police-station—I went to the Police-court to see if he was locked up—they would not let me into the Court—I did not tell the inspector I could give information.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he fired in the air, and that after giving the revolver to his friend, he threw a cartridye out of his pocket, which went off, and caused the second shot.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY .
Six Week' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, October 21st, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
904. JOHN STAREY (54) , Unlawfully omitting to make certain entries in the books of the Trade Mark Owners' Mutual Protection Society, Limited, his masters. Other Counts, for making false entries in the said books.
MR. H. AVORY offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BAYLIS Prosecuted.
JOSEPH HERSON . I am a grocer, of 32, Hanbury Street—on the night of September 14th my son was putting parcels into a van outside my door—about twenty men came along the street, and the prisoners among them—when they got opposite my shop they started fighting, and knocked a parcel out of my son's hand, and knocked him about—I ran out, and saw Shepherd with one of my parcels of coffee in his hand—I said, "Let go," and received a blow on my face, and did not know what happened afterwards—a man came up and said, "Close the van," and as he said it he received a blow on his face—Maxwell then hit Spira on his head with a hammer, and blood flowed over his coat and shirt—I ran for a policeman, and when I came back a policeman had got hold of Shepherd—I went to the station and charged him with assault and stealing—a doctor was called—I saw Maxwell there, and he was given in custody—I missed 7 lbs. of coffee and 3 lbs. of cocoa.
Cross-examined by Maxwell. You gave Spira a blow with the hammer—I am not sure that I saw it, I had received such a blow myself.
ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN . I am a wood carver, of 4, Fisher's Alley, Sandy How—I saw a mob round this shop, and saw Shepherd take a parcel off the van and hand it to Maxwell—someone behind gave Mr. Hereon a blow, and he cried for help—Shepherd said, "What do you want?" and before he could answer he gave him a blow with his fist on his jaw—he sang out, "Ain't anybody going to have mercy upon me?"—Maxwell took out a hummer and gave Spira a blow on his forehead, and blood flowed—Spira took the hammer out of his hand—Shepherd was taken to the station, and when I came out I saw Maxwell there.
Cross-examined by Maxwell. There was such a crowd I cannot say what you did with the coffee—you got the hammer from your pocket behind.
SOLOMON SPIRA . I am a provision dealer, of 51, Milk Street—I was in this street and saw a crowd—I went to help Mr. Herson to shut up his van, and saw both the prisoners there—I saw some of the chaps trying to get goods out of the cart—I stood there five minutes, and Hereon and I had a row with them, and he got a blow—he halloaed out for help, and
Shepherd said, "What is the matter with you?" and hit me on my face with his fist and cut my lip—I began bleeding, and caught hold of Shepherd, and held him for ten minutes—Herson said, "Have not they got any mercy for me?"—Maxwell then took out an iron hammer—I said, "Take care what you are doing; you have got an iron hammer in your hand"—he said, "I will stab you," and hit me on my head with it—I caught hold of Shepherd, but he took it out of ray hand, and hit me again with it on my forehead—a constable came, and I gave him in custody—I went to the station, and when I came out I saw Maxwell, and said, "Oh, here you are, "and put my hand on him, and said, "You had better come with me"—a doctor dressed my wounds at the station—I bled a good deal.
Cross-examined by Shepherd. I did not come up and shove you, nor did you shove me back—I had my hands in my pockets when I received the first blow.
PERCY JOHN CLARK , M.R.C.S. I was called to the station about 7.30 on September 14th, and dressed Spira's wounds—he had a contusion on his upper lip inside, and two small contused wounds on his forehead, such as might be caused by a blow from this hammer—they were not dangerous; the skin was broken, and he lost a good deal of blood from all three places.
SAMUEL MORTLOCK (52 H R). I heard a whistle, and went up and saw a crowd of five hundred or six hundred people—I saw Spira holding Shepherd against the wall—Spira was smothered in blood from wounds; on his forehead—this hammer was taken out of Shepherd's hand—he was taken to the station and charged—he said nothing.
Cross-examined by Shepherd. You did not say, "Who has got the knife?"—I never heard a knife mentioned.
HENRY HANCOCK (305 H). I was at the station, and saw Spira bringing Maxwell across to the station—I asked him if he remembered what Spira said—he said, "Yes, that is all right"—Maxwell said at the Court, "I did strike him with my fist, but the other I know nothing about."
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Shepherd says: "I know nothing about the knife of the hammer." Maxwell says: "I saw a crowd. Spira struck me on my face, and I struck him back. I never saw the hammer."
Shepherds defence. I saw a crowd round the prosecutor's shop. I walked up to it, and saw Hereon. He shoved me, and I shoved him back. He got me by the throat, and I halloaed out for somebody to save me.
Maxwell's defence. I saw a crowd, and the prosecutor and Mr. Spira came up and struck me, and I struck back with my fists. I had no hammer.
GUILTY .—SHEPHERD— Four Months' Hard Labour. MAXWELL— Nine Months Hard Labour. There was another Indictment against the prisoners' for wounding Spira.
OLD COURT.—Monday, October 23rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. BROXHOLME Prosecuted.
ANNIE THOMAS . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 19, Stanhope Buildings, Euston Road—I had not been living with him for some time before the 29th September—I have occasionally met him; he has been allowing me 3s. 6d. a week for three years—I had to meet him to get the money from him—on the night of 29th September I met him about eight, and I went and signed for the 3s. he gave me in a book—we then went to a public-house and stayed there till twelve—I paid for two pots of four ale, and he paid for one—he drank with me, and gave some to his friends, and I had half a quartern of rum with another young woman—I had a drop of drink, but I was sober—the prisoner was as sober as I was; we both knew what we were doing—when we came out we wished the young friend and his young woman "Good-night," and went to the new station in Drummond Street, which was about ten minutes' walk—the prisoner then wanted me to go up a turning with him; I said, "I shall not do such a thing, you have had me long enough, knocking me about in this manner"—upon that he punched me in the mouth, and pushed me up against the railings—he then dragged me by the arm and tried all he could to get me further up the turning—I fell up against the railings; he dashed me by the head—I made my way to the Lord Palmerston; he then paid me again, and knocked my head against the wall—then he beat me again at 19, Stanhope Buildings; he there punched me in the mouth, and said if I did not go with him he would cut my throat—I put up my hand and knocked the knife away—then I fell down, and as I was falling he lifted me up with his foot in the jaw, and he kicked me as I was falling—I became insensible, and what happened I don't know—I don't remember being in the hospital.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not ask you to see me home—you kicked me and you used the knife—this sort of thing has been going on for ten years.
CATHERINE FOSTER . I live at 19, Stanhope Buildings with my sister, Annie Thomas—between twelve and one on the 30th I lifted up my window and looked out and said, "Is that you, Nancy?" the prisoner said, "Yes, Katie, it is Nancy"—I said, "Wait till I put my skirt on and I will give you Nancy. "I ran down to the street door; he was standing there, and my sister was lying senseless—I said, "I will make you pay for trying to murder my sister"—he said he would kick me where I could not show my marks—I went for a policeman; I could not find one—I returned and took my sister upstairs; someone had picked her up—I took her to the hospital about ten minutes to one; she was attended to there and came back with me.
Cross-examined. I did not see you strike my sister or kick her.
WILLIAM GRIFFITH . I was house surgeon at the London Temperance Hospital when the prosecutrix was brought there—she was under the influence of drink—she had a fracture of the jaw; that would be compatible either with a blow or a fall; any violence might produce it—I
did not attend to her—the injury was not very serious—she had a permanently deformed jaw, from an old affair—she is not perfectly well from that last injury; it is not going to be permanent.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that it teas only drink that caused them to part, and teas the cause of all the mischief.
GUILTY of a common assault. — Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended.
GUILTY on the Second Count. — Four Months Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, October 23rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
910. SUSAN ELIZABETH PAYNE , committing wilful and corrupt perjury, and WILLIAM ROBERT FRENCH MANSFIELD (33) , to aiding and abetting her to commit the said perjury. PAYNE— Discharged on her own recognizances. MANSFIELD received a good character.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
911. CLEMENT STEDMAN LLOYD (30) , Unlawfully endeavouring to obtain money from Henry Edward Scarlett by false pretences. Other Counts, for endeavouring to obtain other sums from other persons. He PLEADED GUILTY to the First Count. — Six Months' Hard Labour. And MR. GILL for the Prosecution, offered no evidence on the other Counts.—NOT GUILTY.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
LOUISA GREENWOOD . I am the prisoner's daughter; my mother died in February, and since then up to August 29th I have been my father's housekeeper—I have seven brothers—Tom, the eldest, is seventeen, Albert will be thirteen next March, Joseph is just turned nine, William is seven, Walter four, and Arthur and Sidney are twins, of two years and nine months—we live at 20, Nichol Street, in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Merrick—my father occupies one room, and the children and I sleep in the other—after my mother's death my father was in work till June, and we had enough to eat—I had the care of the children from June—our room was not very clean—the prisoner gave me 3d. a day to buy food, and sometimes nothing—I had not sufficient food for the children after my mother died; 3d. a day was not enough to buy necessities for them, or soap, or milk; we never had any milk at all except what a hospital nurse gave to one of the little boys—I told my father from time to time that there was not enough food in the house, and he said he had not got any money; but before he went
to the races I saw him with £5 or £6, and he left me 3d. that day—the children were hungry that day; and crying for food, and I was hungry—he gave me 3d. the next day; they were crying then, and he heard it—they had vermin in their heads, and I had no soap—he came home the worse for drink three or four times a week—Mrs. Nicholls and Mrs. Merrick used to give the children food—eight of them were insured; I used to pay 8d. a week for them; he gave me the money, and told me to pay it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not pay 3s. 6d. or 4s. a week at the baker's shop for bread and jam and German sausage.
THOMAS GREENWOOD . I lived with my brothers and sister and father at Nichol Street till towards the end of August—they did not have enough to eat day by day from the time my mother died—I am in the mantle-making line—my father gave my sister about 3d. for their maintenance—I remember my father going to the races in August; he had about a sovereign in the morning, and in the evening about £2 odd, and on Tuesday and Wednesday he went to the races—I cannot say how much he had on the Tuesday—he gave my sister 3d. or 4d. each morning—he asked me to go to the races, but I had no money to pay for it—my father was going to pay, but my sister asked him for food for the children; he said he could not give it to them.
Cross-examined. You very seldom gave her 4d.—you did not pay 3s. 6d. or 4s. a week for bread only; there were other things—four loaves were sent for on Saturdays, but. only two on other days—I never saw two besides; sometimes there was none at all on Saturday till we got some in the afternoon—you did not since June have tea made, and put into a jar, before you went to bed, and leave it in the bedroom for them—I always went out without my breakfast—I paid you 11s. on Friday night from my wages because I was going for a week's holiday—you did not give me 32s. 6d. to pay the landlord for three weeks.
By the COURT. I never saw four loaves of bread, because I was not at home—the children did not have enough to eat; they cried for food, and the older ones used to take it from the younger ones—I never saw any milk—there was plenty of soap—I used to earn 9s., and gave my father half, but I got no breakfast; only two slices of bread and butter—my father went to Kempton races that week, but I did not go—he went by rail.
Re-examined. I came home from work at 8.30 or nine p.m., and left at nine a.m.—what happened in the day I do not know—I am quit certain the two youngest, the twins, never had any milk since June.
MARY NICHOLLS . I am the wife of Robert Nicholls—we are tenants of the prisoner, and occupy two rooms—he occupied the two parlours and the kitchen with his children—we have been there seven months; we went there a fortnight after his wife died—I saw the children every day—they were not clean; they were full of vermin, including the two younger ones——their bedroom was very dirty and they had no bedclothes, but the prisoner's lied and bedroom were kept very clean—the little girl who was left in charge of the children did her best—I saw soap there, but they never had enough—I have seen the twins have some milk; I spoke to the father about it, and he said it was all rot—I have fed the children; they
appeared to want it; they used to put their hands out and take it—Mrs. Marsh used to give them food—I paid the insurance once—I have seen the prisoner the worse for drink—one of the twins was very ill three weeks before August Bank Holiday—the illness would be obvious to the lather—the parish doctor was sent for, after which I think the prisoner sent for a pennyworth of milk one day, and I made some custard—the father did not purchase any milk, but I gave then milk every morning out of my own money—the prisoner said he wished the twins were dead—he did not spend 3s. or 4s. a week at the chandler's shop, his biggest score was 2s. 11d., and there was coal and wood in that.
Cross-examined. The 2s. 11d. included coal—the coal in summer was because the girl had to wash for eight of them, nine with the father, and then she took Barber's washing—Mrs. Walter, the chandler's wife, showed me the book—on the Saturday as I went there on Wednesday, the children were crying for milk, and the father would not let them have it, and I took them down some milk—I never saw tea made and put in a basin at night; they never had tea, only what I gave them in the morning; I never saw them with a bottle or any milk—I owed you a fortnight's rent, because my husband has bean away three months, and you were the cause of his going away—you did not give me the fortnight's rent.
MARY MADDICKS . I am a widow—I rent a room of the prisoner at 27, Nicholson Street, Hoxton, at two shillings a week I have been there three months—I have seen the prisoner's children; they had not enough to eat—I could not afford to give them much—they had vermin on their heads, and I saw sores on Walters head—I remember one of the twins being ill—he had milk once—the father bought a can of milk—I thought the child was going to die—I did not see that he was treated in a different way by his father—the prisoner's room was comfortable, and he had a nice bed; but there was only one small bed for the six children, and it was filthily dirty, and the loom was dirty too—the children fell away after the mother's death—when I found them they appeared hungry; they caught hold of the bacon; anybody could see that they wanted food—I have seen the. prisoner the worse for drink—I have heard the neighbours tell him that the baby wanted milk; he said it was rot, he could not get it—I have heard him say twice that he wished the children were dead or in their coffins, as they were worth more dead than alive.
ERNEST GOODMAN . I live at 7, Hake Street, Bloomsbury—on September 7th I went to 7, Nichol Street, and saw the prisoner in the front room, ground floor, which he occupied—there were no children there, hut I saw them in the other room: Sidney, Arthur, Walter, and the three youngest; they were dreadfully dirty, and vermin were running about their heads and faces—I asked him if they had any milk; he said they never had any—the children's room was dreadfully dirty; they laid on a dirty mattress and sacking, which were alive likewise—the children were ravenous, but they seemed too weak to ask for food, but I gave them some—I asked the prisoner if he objected to see the doctor; he said, "No."—the children were weighed; Arthur weighed 111/2 and Sidney 101/2 pounds—when I first went into the room the twins nearly fell out of bed trying to get out for the food—I went again
the next afternoon, and saw Albert, Joseph, and William; they were very dirty and very hungry—their room was cleaner than on the previous day, but there were no bedclothes—the prisoner's room was quite clean—I went again on the 9th, and saw the four elder children; there was a flight improvement in the back room—I saw no food; the relieving officer sent for some, and it disappeared in a single day—I went again on the Tuesday; there was not a morsel of food in the house, and the prisoner seemed to be recovering from drink—he said he had earned about 30s. a week, but he had had no work for a fortnight—Albert said, in his father's presence, that he was very hungry, he did not have enough to eat, and that his father went out at seven a.m., and did not return till eight or nine, and generally the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. When I went on Thursday I found you there, but I do not know that you went out, and borrowed a shilling to get them something to eat—I only sent for one pint of milk, and that was on Thursday—I gave them food on the 7th, 8th, and 9th—I was there on the Sunday—no friend ever came with me—my head officer came with me one day—the children's bed was dreadfully dirty; there was fresh filth on it, and no blankets or sheets—I saw your sister-in-law there on Friday evening—I saw two clean sheets on your bed at eleven p.m., but not on the children's bed—you bought them some bread on Thursday, and on Friday it was all gone—on the Saturday they had no food at all, and I thought it necessary to get food and meat immediately for them.
ROBERT H. O'BRIEN . I live at 91, New North Road—on September 7th I went with the last witness to the prisoner's house about 3.30, and saw the two rooms—I agree with him as to the dirt—the two older children were in a dreadful state of emaciation, and vermin were running through their hair, which was coming off—the twins were emaciated from want of food, not from disease—they were weighed; Arthur weighed 101/2 lbs., and Sydney 111/2 lbs.; the normal weight would be 24 lbs.—I ordered them to be removed—children of that age should have milk as the basis of their food.
EDWARD LYONS (Policeman, 82 G). I took the prisoner on a warrant—he made no reply to the charge—I asked him if he had any money; he pulled out threepence, but I found 6s. 6d. in his waistcoat pocket—his room was clean and fairly comfortable.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had been out of work since he lost his wife, and was unable to pay anyone to attend to his children; that he wished to give them more food than they lead, but could not do so, owing to his lodger not paying her rent. He denied being intoxicated.— GUILTY .
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour on the first indictment, and Twenty-two Months on the second, to run consecutively.
THIRD COURT.—Monday, October 23rd, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
914. EDWARD HUGHES (33), WILLIAM FAIRWEATHER (42), and SPENCER MORRIS (35), PLEADED GUILTY to conspiring by false pretences to defraud divers persons of their moneys. MORRIS also PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining money by false pretences, with intent to defraud. (Hughes and Morris received good characters.) MORRIS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. HUGHES— Five Months' Hard Labour. FAIRWEATHER— Four Month's Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended at the request of the COURT.
WILLIAM GEORGE HOBBS . I am second clerk at the North London Police-court—on September 6th Annie Pennycuik applied to Mr. Bros for a bastardy summons against Mr. Stevens—it was granted, returnable on September 20th—on that day Mr. Bros was the sitting magistrate—the case was adjourned till the 27th, when Mr. Bros made an order on Stevens to pay 3s. 6d. per week till the child was fourteen—no appeal was lodged against that—Stevens gave evidence denying the paternity—I took notes of the evidence in this book; they were not read over nor signed—the first witness called was the complainant, Mrs. Pennycuik, and then she called the prisoner to corroborate her—she was sworn, and I took down in writing the material parts of her evidence—the complainant was then called back and cross-examined, and after that Stevens was called for the defence—the prisoner and Pennycuik were the only witnesses for the prosecution; the magistrate held that the fact of Stevens and Pennycuik having lived together in the house was sufficient corroboration of Pennycuik's evidence with the fact stated by the prisoner that Stevens invited Pennycuik to make any complaint she had before the prisoner—after Stevens had given evidence the prisoner was re-called and said, "I saw the complainant on 2nd May at our gate with a child in her arms. She asked me if the defendant was in and I said no"—the magistrate cautioned her and pointed out that the child had been born in the workhouse and the date of its birth could be easily proved, and asked her whether she was sure of it—she said, "I spoke to the defendant" (that would be Stevens) "at once, and he looked at the almanac and marked it"—she said that to fix the date—she was asked if she repeated the statement, and she said, "I repeat that I saw the complainant and the child on 2nd May"—the case was adjourned for seven days till 27th September, and when it was called on the solicitor for the defence said that Mrs. Johnson wanted to make a statement, that she had found that she had made a mistake and wished to correct it—she went into the witness box; she was not sworn—she said she was very sorry; she found she had made a mistake in the woman—the magistrate pointed out that she said Mrs. Pennycuik actually spoke to her on 2nd May—she did not reply to that—an almanac was not produced then, but this one was at the perjury proceedings—the magistrate made the order against Stevens on 27th September—under his instructions I wrote a letter to the Solicitor to the Treasury, and subsequently a summons was granted against the prisoner for perjury at our Court—that was heard before Mr. Lane, and the prisoner was committed for trial.
Cross-examined. The corroboration depended on the prisoner's evidence—I have no recollection of the prisoner saying on the second occasion
that her niece answered the door and told her she recognised Mrs. Pennycuik; I can swear she did not, because I think if she had said so I should have remembered it.
ANNIE ELIZA PENNYCUIK .—I am a widow, and an inmate of Hackney Union—I went into Mr. Stevens's service on 22nd August as working housekeeper—I had not known him before—I remained in his service for one week till August 29th—he is an engineer and brass-fitter; a working man—I saw the prisoner twice at the house during that week, and I have seen her once since—she is Stevens's second wife's sister—on 23rd August, the second night after I was at the house, and two nights afterwards, Stevens came into my room and had connection with me on each occasion—I was not in the family way when I went there on 22nd, and since that time no man has had connection with me—I went from Stevens to Southend to get a good situation, and afterwards I went into Hackney Workhouse on 3rd February—on 23rd May I was confined in the workhouse infirmary—Stevens was the father of the child—I made a complaint before the Magistrate and took out a summons against him, and he was ordered to pay 3s. 6d. a week—after I left Stevens's house, on 29th August, I have only been there once, and that was before 3rd February—I went with two Salvation Army sisters—since I went into the union on 3rd February I have not been there—I did not go there on 2nd May; I did not leave the work house on that day, and did not speak to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. It was the prisoner who discharged me; she said I was too familiar with her brother-in-law, and ordered me out of the house at once, and gave me 1s. 71/2d., and stood over me while I packed my box and went—I said, "Mr. Stevens said my week was up, and he would not require me any longer"—he said "If you sit on my son's lap in a week, God knows what it will come to in a month"—he discharged me—I asked him for 6s.; he did not give it to me—I had the remainder of the housekeeping money in my pocket, and with the 1s. 7d. that made up the 68.—I first saw the prisoner the night after I was there; she came in the evening and stayed for about half an hour, or a little more, in the kitchen—Mr. Stevens, Mrs. Mills, the lodger, I and Stevens were there together—I saw her again on the Monday, when she discharged me.
By the COURT. It is true that I was sitting on the son's knee; he is sixteen—we were in the yard having a little party on Sunday evening, and I went into the kitchen to get the son's tea; and he said, "Here is your chair," and as I was going to sit down he sat on the chair and pulled me on to his knee quite accidentally.
Re-examined. When I was discharged Stevens and the prisoner were in the room together.
JOHN IRVING . I am gate porter at Hackney Workhouse—on 2nd May I was on duty at the gate all day—Pennycuik did not leave the work-house that day—I produce the book in which her name should appear if she went out.
Cross-examined. All the female inmates wear the same kind of dress, a kind of uniform.
BEATRICE CLARK . I am a nurse at the Hackney Infirmary—Annie Eliza Pennycuik came into the infirmary on 22nd May; I attended her when she was confined on 23rd May—I have the book with the entry of her confinement.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I wish to say I have made a mistake in Mrs. Pennycuik; I have seen the person several times; I saw Mrs. Pennycuik twice before 2nd May, for ten minutes each time."
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN WILLIAM ARCHIBALD CORKIN . I am a solicitor of the Supreme Court, and a duly authorised Commissioner to administer oaths—I practise at 25, John Street, Bedford Row—I administered the oath to the deponent to this affidavit—she swore that the contents were true—her signature is, "E. C. Taylor"—I cannot remember her—it was sworn on 29th November, 1892, at John Street, her solicitor's office.
Cross-examined. The body of the affidavit is apparently in the solicitor's clerk's writing—I did not read it over to her.
CHARLES HENRY MURRAY . I am a clerk at the central office of the High Court—I produce a single stone ring, the earrings and pin-brooch, and a red plush box, which were impounded in Court after the trial of the action Neck v. Taylor, by order of Mr. Justice Grantham, on 27th June—I also produce this affidavit, filed in the case under Order 14.
Cross-examined. The jewellery has not been polished in any way; it has been kept in the box.
LOUISA NECK . I am a widow—I reside and carry on a boarding-house at 60, Guildford Street, Russell Square—in July, 1892, the prisoner came to board there, I having arranged with her that she should pay four guineas a week for herself, her nurse and her child—she remained till about 21st October, 1892—during that period I had paid various sums for her for parcels from tradesmen, and I had received money on account from her—on 21st October, after crediting her with everything I had received, she was in debt to me for £69 10s. 3d.—she had told me she received a cheque monthly, but that her husband would pay anything extra, when he came—she did not tell me the amount of her income—on 21st October, she proposed to leave me to go to Bournemouth—I asked my son to tell her I wanted some security if she left—she left in my possession these articles, reputed to be jewellery' in this plush box, which was put in a black wooden box, and handed over to us to take care of while she was away—in the black wooden box were a lot of little trinkets—I handed it to my son—she left on the Saturday, and on the following Monday morning my maid called my attention to her luggage; in consequence of which I made a communication to my son about a jeweller—the prisoner called on the 29th for her letters, and I said, "Mrs. Taylor, do you know the jewels you have left with me are false ones?"—she said, "No, but the only reason I can give is that my husband said, when
I was leaving America, 'You had better not travel with such large jewels,' and he must have changed them. Had I known they were paste, he knows I should not have worn them"—that was before I instructed my solicitor and issued a writ in this action—I had given the prisoner this receipt for the three jewels. (This stated that they were received as security for the debt of £69)—at the interview, when she said that her husband must have changed the jewels, she made no suggestion that I or my son had tampered with them—I had not had the jewels altered or tampered with in any way. (MR. GEOGHEGAN stated that he should not suggest that the witness had tampered with them in any way)—I instructed my solicitor to bring an action to recover the £69 10s. 3d., in consequence of a letter I received—I attended the trial of the action and gave evidence—the prisoner was in Court—I was cross-examined as to the substitution of the jewels—the action resulted in a verdict for me on the claim, and for me on the counter-claim, with the exception of one farthing damages for breaking open the box—immediately after the verdict I instructed my solicitor to apply for a summons for perjury against the prisoner—the warrant was not executed till 10th or 11th September—my judgment has proved fruitless; I got nothing.
Cross-examined. The prisoner, during the time she was with me, gave me three drafts on Brown, Shipley and Co., the American bankers; £50 18s. on 12th August, £49 14s. 11d. on 9th September, and £50 18s. on 13th October—she said she could not pay anything through the bank, and asked me to cash the drafts for her—I did so; they were duly honoured—I received that money—so far as I could judge she was entitled to an allowance of about £50 a month—when she was going to Bourne-mouth I asked for her address there, and she said she was not certain what part of Bournemouth she was going to, but it was to her husband's brother—she gave no name—my son is acquainted with Mr. Barnett; I suppose he is an expert in diamonds; he is a pawnbroker—several times before 21st October the prisoner hail left her brooch and earrings with me to take care of for her, and she asked for them each day she wanted to wear them—I had had the opportunity of examining two of these three articles for two months—she used to have them two or three times in the week to wear at the theatre, and brought them back to me next morning—six days after I found the diamonds were false the prisoner called—I asked whether she had gone to Bournemouth, and she said, "Yes, I have just come up from there"—I had then had the three articles in my possession for a week—I asked her did she know the articles of jewellery she had left with me were false; she said, "Well, the only thing is, when I was leaving America my husband said, You had better not travel with such large jewels; I will give you smaller ones.' Had he told me they were false ones, ha knows I should not have worn them"—she did not dispute my statement as to their value.
Re-examined. That interview was before the writ in the action, and before the affidavit was sworn—after the prisoner called for letters her servant came for them—I know the prisoner's writing; this affidavit is signed by her.
ALBERT NECK . I am the son of the last witness—when the prisoner was going to Bournemouth I had a conversation with her about giving security for my mother's claim—these jewels were left in our custody—I
received them from my mother, and handed them to Mr. Lewis, our solicitor, eventually—I drew up this receipt—on 24th October, after a conversation with my mother, I took these jewels to an expert, Mr. Barnett, a pawnbroker, who examined them—a few days afterwards the prisoner called, and I told her the things she left in our possession had been examined and were false—she said she did not know they were; her husband must have changed them before she came to England; that she had much larger jewels when over there I and she said her husband had said that travelling with those she was apt to lose them, and so she supposed he had changed them—she did not suggest that I or my mother had changed them—I was present in Court at the trial of Neck v. Taylor—I heard my mother cross-examined—I was also present at an interview at Mr. Lewis's office between her and her solicitor and the expert and myself.
Cross-examined. I told the prisoner the jewellery was worthless; she seemed surprised—she said before she came to England her husband had her large jewels and must have changed them for these, and that if she had known they were false she would never have worn them—when' she got to America she would prosecute her husband, as it was a criminal offence in America for a husband to take jewellery from a wife.
MR. GREENWOOD. I am manager to Mr. Barnett, a pawnbroker and jeweller, of 316, High Holborn—I have had some years' experience in valuing jewels; the stones in these three articles are paste—the setting of the ring is poor, known as 9 carat, and it is not likely that a valuable diamond of this size was ever in this setting—the setting of the earrings is metal, and was never made for real diamonds—I should say they were made in America—the setting of the ring is very high to take a deep stone, which shows it was made to take a paste and not a real stone—imitation stones are cut high to give an artificial brilliancy.
Cross-examined. Paste is a glass specially manufactured, and Home of it is marvellously made—in my belief these are copies of valuable American jewellery—it is a common thing when diamonds are pledged for a copy of them to be made—there is no hall-mark in America—there is no mark on this ring; if it were English it would not need to be marked—I think I could tell if a lady at a theatre were wearing paste diamonds.
Re-examined. These settings were never made for real stones.
GUILFORD EDWARD LEWIS . I am a solicitor, of 14, South Square, Gray's Inn—I was the plaintiff's solicitor in the action of Neck v. Taylor—I produce the writ of summons and the pleadings, and an office copy of the judgment of the Queen's Bench Division—the claim on the writ was for a debt—I issued a summons, returnable before a Master in Chambers, on 30th November, calling on the defendant to show cause why judgment should not be entered up—the question before the Master was whether she should have leave to defend, or whether judgment should be signed—the defendant appeared by solicitor, who produced this affidavit, sworn before Mr. Corkin—the Master, upon reading it, gave her unconditional leave to defend—she set up a counter-claim. (The affidavit stated that the diamond ring, diamond earrings, and diamond brooch, which the plaintiff' compelled the defendant to leave with
her had not been delivered to the defendant, although she attended at the office of the plaintiff's solicitor to receive them, but that certain imitation jewellery was tendered to her, which was not the jewellery she had deposited with the plaintiff; and the defendant counter-claimed for the jewellery so deposited with the plaintiff, which she believed to be of the value of about£250)—I called on the prisoner in October, and showed her a letter I had received from Mr. Wells, who purported to be a solicitor; he is not one—I asked her if the letter was written by her authority—she said, "Yes"—I referred her to the part in it about the jewels being genuine—there was also a notice received with the letter to the effect that the articles received from Mrs. E. Taylor were valued at £250, and that Mrs. Neck would be held liable for any damage—I asked the prisoner whether she suggested these jewels were valuable; she said they were—I had an interview with Messrs. Ravenscroft and Hill's representative and an expert on 21st November, shortly after the writ was issued, before the prisoner appeared—I produced these articles and a lot of other articles of jewellery, and asked the prisoner, through her solicitor, whether she would identify and describe the jewellery—at first they refused to allow her to do that—I asked her whether she would identify it—she approached my desk, and one of my clerks took down a description of the jewellery, and made a list of it—she took this ring, and said, "This ring is mine; the stone is not"—she looked at the brooch and earrings, and said, "This jewellery is not mine at all"—I asked her if she could suggest how they differed; she said they were different altogether—she made a statement which was reduced into writing—I pointed out that these were not gold—she said those she had handed to Mrs. Neck were gold—I asked her whether the others were hers—she said they were—I pointed out that they were with one exception imitation jewellery; she remarked that she did not attach any value to that—there were about thirty articles altogether, brooches, bangles, and so on; this is a photograph of them; it was all sham with one exception, a child's ring—at the trial she said she did not attach any value to them; she thought the brooch "Bessie" was gold—it had been tested and was not—I was the plaintiff's solicitor at the trial—the prisoner was sitting behind her counsel—I heard Mrs. Neck cross-examined about the jewellery and whether she had substituted false for real jewellery, and afterwards her son was cross-examined about knowing diamond people—the prisoner did not go into the witness-box—immediately after judgment was given I received instructions and applied for a summons for perjury—it was granted—before the return of the summons I had information that the prisoner had gone away—I inquired and found she had, and I applied for a warrant, which was executed three months afterwards.
Cross-examined. The first letter I received was from Wells, a money-lender—she had the assistance of her solicitor, with whom I saw her—he refused to allow her to describe the jewellery without seeing it—she was acting under his advice then as far as I could judge—on one occasion, when she said the jewellery was substituted, her solicitor was present, and on another occasion when she said so he was not—I had two interviews with her—I called on her once, and then she had no legal adviser—at that time no litigation was pending or threatened—I went on the receipt of Wells's letter—so far as I know she had legal assistance then—the first intimation
I had was from Wells, who had no legal knowledge, and so far as I know the prisoner had no legal adviser then—at the trial the question of the substitution of the jewellery was dropped, in consequence of a remark of the Judge, Mr. Justice Grantham—it was dropped by compulsion—one portion of the case turned on a question of law as to separate estate—I know she was not in Wales when we wanted to execute the warrant, because shortly before its execution she sent a friend to me to find out whether a warrant was issued—I asked the lady whether she thought Mrs. Taylor thought there was one, and she replied she thought there was one—I said it would be better she should continue to believe it, in order that it would keep her away from London—after that the prisoner came to London, but she went about under the impression that there was not a warrant.
By the COURT. No witnesses were called for the defence at the trial—Mr. Justice Grantham did not say the defendant must not give evidence in support of her counter-claim—the counter-claim for £250 was abandoned, and then the action was at an end—a farthing damages were given to the defendant upon her claim that the plaintiff had illegally broken open certain of her trunks—the defendant produced certain jewellery which she alleged to be represented by the photograph, but it turned out to be different.
GREENWOOD (Re-examined). The jewels produced to-day are not worth anything like £250; they are worth, roughly, perhaps £1.
ARTHUR WALTERS (Sergeant E). I received the warrant on 29th June—I arrested the prisoner on September 11th—I told her the nature of the charge—she made no reply—I took her to Hunter Street Police-station—she made no reply to the charge there—she said she had been out of town for a short time.
Cross-examined. I arrested her in the Charing Cross Road, close to the address she gave.
GUILTY .— Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, October 21th, 1893.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
For other cases tried on this and following days, see Surrey Cases.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, October 24th, 1893.
before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
(919). HENRY WOOD , to embezzling the sums of £8 12s. 7d., £7 4s. 11d., and"£3 19s. 1d., the money of Cooper, Dennison, and Walkden, limited, his masters.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ANDREW MATHEW , I am manager to Henry Bayes, carman and contractor, of 87, Curtain Road—on 21st June the prisoner came and hired a horse and harness, value £26 or £27, at 15s. a week—he said he wanted them for an old lady and gentleman at Warlingham who he had purchased a house for, and he should probably want them for three months—he wrote and paid one account on July 4th, and on July 20th I went down to Warlingham and found that a butcher had bought the horse of the prisoner—we sued Mr. Clark, got the horse and harness back, and applied to a Magistrate for a warrant.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. No arrangement was made for buying the horse—you were not to have it if you could pay £17 down.
HENRY CLARK . I am a butcher, of Warlingham—I know the prisoner—on 28th June I bought a horse, harness, and a waggonette of Mrs. Nye for £17—I afterwards gave it up to the prosecutor—a man named Chapman brought it to me—I paid by cheque, and they returned it, and said that they preferred gold.
PHILIP WILLIS (Police Sergeant G). On September 16th I arrested the prisoner on a warrant at Portsmouth—I read it to him—he said, "All right, I hired the horse, and my wife sold it; she acted under my instructions."
The prisoner in his defence, said that the man he hired the horse of gave him permission to sell it, and then charged him with stealing it in order to get it back.
A. MATHEW (Re-examined). I am not the person who made the bargain—I told the Magistrate that the prisoner hired the horse of Mr. Davis.
NOT GUILTY .
SARAH WICKEN . I am the wife of William Garth Wicken, who is abroad—I am a pianoforte dealer in Walworth Road—on September 17th the prisoner came and chose a pianoforte, price twenty-two guineas—he signed an agreement, and I sent the piano to Walthamstow—he paid four instalments of 10s. 6d. a month—I then wrote to him, and the letter was returned, as he had gone away—I saw no more of him or of the piano—I gave him no authority to sell it.
Prisoner's defence. It was arranged that, if I sold it, I was to pay Mrs. Wicken £12—the agreement is two things coupled together, and I gave her three references, I sold it for £12, I am willing to keep up the payments; I will begin to-day. This is the agreement (Produced).
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude. There was another Indictment against tie prisoner.
Before Mr. Recorder.
922. JAMES KELLOWAY (32) , PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for stealing a watch, a chain, and other articles of Elizabeth Maria Edwards, and other articles of different persons. Also to a previous conviction of felony on 22nd February, 1889— Three Years' Penal Servitude. And
923. KENNETH BERTRAM CAMPBELL (15), and JAMES MILLER (20) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick John Hodges, and stealing two jackets and other articles. MILLER also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction. CAMPBELL— Discharged on recognizances. MILLER— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. SANDS Prosecuted.
GEORGE WREN (392 K). At 12.30 on 7th October I was on duty in Freemason's Road, about one mile and a half from Becton Gas Works—I saw the prisoner crossing the road with another man, who was wheeling a bicycle—I noticed that the prisoner was very bulky, so I stopped him and asked him what he had about him—he said, "What is that to do with you? Cannot I move my things from one house to another without you stopping me?"—I said "No," his answers did not satisfy me, he must come to the station—he at first refused—I blew my whistle and called assistance and took him to the station, where he was detained till inquiries were made—at the station I found on him this underclothing and linen—he threw it on the floor saying, "There they are"—he was detained—when I stopped the prisoner the man with the bicycle ran away, shouting out, "Put his light out; don't go with him"—I went to where the bicycle was, and found there a pair of lady's kid gloves and other articles.
GEORGE GIBBS . I live at 46, Freemason's Road, a corner house, and am an oilman—Mr. and Mrs. Kelly are my lodgers—on 6th October I went to bed between 11.30 and 11.45, after examining the premises, and locking everything up—the scullery window was fastened by the lodgers.
ROSE KELLY . I am Finlay Kelly's wife—we lodge with Mr. Gibbs—this parcel of clothes belongs to us—I last saw them safe on Friday evening, 6th October, about eight o'clock—they were in the kitchen drawer then—we missed them next morning when we were called up.
JAMES ANDREWS (Inspector K). I received information of this robbery, and went to Mr. Gibbs' house on the morning of the 7th—I found entry had been effected by climbing a low wall, pushing back the catch of the scullery window with a knife, part of which I found; getting
through the window and into the kitchen, and then leaving by the back door, which I found open—I also found an attempt had been made to enter by a side window in Hartington Road—I called up the occupiers—I made inquiries at Beckton Gas Works, after hearing the prisoner's statement.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that the man with the bicycle told him lie had hurt his hand, and asked him to carry the things, and that he was just going to pick them up when he was arrested.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that his statement was quite true.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
MR. ROOTH Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
926. JOHN WILLIAM KENDELL (33) , Unlawfully omitting to discover all his property to the trustee in his bankruptcy, and for concealing and removing certain property within four months of his bank ruptcy; and JOSEPH HOBBS , aiding, abetting, and inciting Kendall to commit those offences. Another Count charged both prisoners with conspiracy to remove property within four months of Keendell's petition. KENDELL PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. ISAACS
JOHN VARLEY . I am attached to the Official Receiver's office of the London Bankruptcy Court—on 30th August I received certain instructions and some keys, and went to a stable in Stacey Road, Forest Gate—I unlocked the stable with one of the keys, and found in it four gross of blacklead, 100 bars of soap, and other stock of an oil and Italian ware-house, of the total value, I should think, of £50 or £60—next day, 31st August, I went to some other stables in Neville Road, and there I found other goods of a similar character, and a quantity of ironmongery of, roughly, about the same value—the same day I went to Llewellyn Villa, in Gipsy Lane, Hobbs's private house—I saw Hobbs there, and told him I had come from the Official Receiver, and asked him if he had any boxes belonging to Kendall—he said he had—I asked to see them—I was shown into the back room, and I saw there three tin japanned travelling trunks—I asked him what they contained; he said he thought they contained clothing—I opened them with the keys I had, and found they contained brushes, paint, and such things as would be in an oil and colour shop—I locked them up, and told him I should hold him responsible for them, and he was not to part with them till he heard from the Official Receiver—he promised he would keep them till he had the Official Receiver's instructions—he was packing up the debtor's books at the time, and he said he thought he would for ward them to the Official Receiver—he said he had prepared a statement of the debtor's affairs, and asked whether the Official Receiver would allow him something for his trouble—I suggested he had better take the
statement and see the Official Receiver—I saw a japanned toilet set standing by the trunk.
Cross-examined. The trunks Mere locked when I arrived—they were ordinary new, japanned tin travelling trunks, such as would be in the stock of an oil and colourman—throughout my interview with Hobbs he did not make the slightest attempt at concealment, but gave me all the information voluntarily and freely.
OLIVER LAMBERT RUSSELL , I am a clerk in the Official Receiver's of lice—on the 29 th August, the day before the matters spoken to by Varley, Mrs. Kendell came into the Official Receiver's office and gave me the keys, which were afterwards handed to Varley with certain instructions.
WILLIAM GEORGE BEETLESTONE . I am an official of the Bankruptcy Court—I produce the file of proceedings in Kendell's bankruptcy, from which it appears that he filed his own petition on 21st August—a receiving order was granted the same day at his request—next day he was adjudicated bankrupt—on the 25th he filed his statement of affiairs to which he deposed on oath, showing liabilities £894 11s. 1d., expected to rank; deficiency £599 9s. 9d., and assets £295 1s. 4d.—in the "Property in possession of bankrupt" in the statement of affairs I find no mention of stock-in-trade at Stacey Road or Neville Road, or as deposited with Hobbs at Llewellyn Villa—on 28th August there is a summary administration order; that would be after the filing of the statement of affairs—the Official Receiver was appointed trustee under that order—on 5th September Mr. Edward Hobbs was appointed trustee at a meeting of creditors—I also produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of the prisoner Hobbs—he filed his own petition on 11th April, 1893, and was adjudicated bankrupt, and a receiving order was made on the same day at his own request—he is still an undischarged bankrupt—a summary order was made on 3rd May—if the Official Receiver is satisfied that the assets are under £300, by consent of the debtor a summary order is made.
Cross-examined. Kendell's petition was presented by a solicitor, E.J. Marsh, 2, Fen Court, E.C.
Re-examined. E. J. Marsh, 2, Fen Court, also appears as the solicitor on the back of Hobbs' petition.
WILLIAM MORGAN . I am a coppersmith—I am agent for and have the letting of stables in Stacey Road, Forest Gate—on 17th July this year I let a stable to Kendell in the name of Wilkinson, on a weekly tenancy, at 4s. a week—he paid three or four weeks—he said Wilkinson was his brother.
EDWARD BOOTH . I live at 225, Neville Road, Upton Park, and am a house decorator—on 22nd July Hobbs came and said he had a friend who wanted to rent the stables, and make a sort of warehouse or stores of them—I let them to Hobbs on a weekly tenancy of 4s. a week—I afterwards saw on those premises some boxes; I could not say what they contained—I met Hobbs there on one occasion—I got no rent till this morning, when an order came.
Cross-examined. There was nothing in writing about the tenancy—I knew Hobbs was taking it for a friend—I saw him in the yard of the stable—he told me he was taking the stable for someone who was about to begin business in the road, and wanted a place to put his things in.
Re-examined. I gave possession of the stable to Hobbs; he was the only person I saw—I gave him the key.
CHARLES SWEETING . I live at 11, Southwold Grove Road, Leytonstone—I was in Kendell's employ at his Harrow Green Road shop for seven or eight months—at the beginning of June he told me in effect that he was in difficulties—about the 5th July I took stock at that shop; Wilkinson was there—we were engaged all night—we brought out the stock roughly at about £600—I first heard of Hobbs in connection with Kendell's difficulties at the latter part of July, after the stock-taking—I did not know Hobbs; Kendell mentioned his name—I was laid up at the time, and about 8th or 10th July Kendell came to my house and said Hobbs had heard he was in difficulties, and he had been through the Bankruptcy Court and had made a good thing of it, and if he liked, be would carry him through with a friend of his who had helped him, and he (Kendell) would make a good thing out of it—before I was laid up I packed three japanned travelling trunks with articles from the stock, and while I was laid up they were taken away—at the end of July I packed up, in soda casks, boxes and travelling trunks, ironmongery, painters' brushes, enamelled ware, and things of that kind—Kendell said he had a stable, which I afterwards found was at Forest Gate—I afterwards saw some of the boxes in a stable in Stacey Road; that was when a cask was being taken there—on 31st July I saw Hobbs at the shop—Kendell discharged me on 29th July; he said Hobbs had advised him to discharge me and Wilkinson, who was Kendell's assistant at his other shop—on 24th August I went into Kendell's shop at Harrow Green to see Wilkinson, and I saw Hobbs and Wilkinson—Hobbs wanted some fourpenny brushes—I said to him, "You have a box of them at your place"—I had put some into the japanned trunks—Hobbs did not answer for a moment, and then he said, "I have turned the boxes out but there are none there. If I knew that you knew as much as you do you should have been in the swim with us"—it is no use denying that I knew that what was being done was not quite right.
Cross-examined. I knew from the beginning of June that Kendell was attempting to do what was simply a swindle with regard to his creditors—I remained in his employ, and did what he told me—he said at stock-taking that he was going to move some of the stuff away from his creditors—I will pledge myself that I did not. know this before stock-taking on 5th July—he only said he should move some goods after stock-taking—he had three shops; a china and glass shop and oil and colour shop in the Portway Road, and an oil and colour shop at Harrow Green—I looked after the Harrow shop, and Kendell and Wilkinson looked after the Portway Road shops, which were distinct—on one occasion, I cannot say whether before or after stock-taking, he told me he meant to strip the Portway Road shop so as to keep the stock from his creditors—I said in the information I swore on 5th September, 1893, "Four or five months ago he (Kendell) told me he was in difficulties, and meant to reduce his stock at the Harrow Green shop, and strip the Portway shop so as to keep the stock from the creditors"—he did say that—I was not to get anything out of it—he promised me a horse and van at one time, when he sent round for me in September, I believe—till then he promised me nothing if I helped him to do it—it was a week or
fortnight before he filed his petition he promised me the horse and van; it was after I left his service—he sent Wilkinson round and asked me what I meant, and I said I meant to make a clean breast of it, which I had done; I did not tell him I had done so—I went round and saw Kendell, and he asked me to hold my tongue, and promised me the horse and van—beyond that he promised me nothing—he said something about, when it was all over, he would share the proceeds; something to that effect; I took no heed of what he said—I went on doing as I was bid—we were not to share the proceeds; he only said I was to have some share of it—Kendell told both me and Wilkinson at the time we were taking stock on 5th July that he wanted to know what the stock was worth, and that he meant to reduce it—Kendell told me that Hobbs' friend was a party named Foote, or Scott—I did not know anything about him, and had seen him on one occasion—I was afterwards told he was a solicitor's clerk—I packed up the three trunks before I was laid up, and when I came back they were gone—I was taken ill almost immediately after stock-taking; three or four days after, not more—more or three trunks were sent from the Portway shop to my house when I was in bed—those were not the ones I packed—I packed three japanned travelling trunks, and they had disappeared when I went back to business, and I don't know where they went to—they did not go to my house—I knew what the trunks sent to my house were, and, when I got well, I went to Kendell and said I would not have them there, and they were moved the same day—I did not know they were coming to my house—I was laid up for five or six days—the trunks were brought on the Wednesday, and fetched away on the Thursday or Friday—the conversation between Hobbs, Wilkinson, and me might have been a few days or a week after I was discharged—I have never said before that Hobbs told me he had turned the boxes out; I think I said at the Police-court that he said he had looked—I went with Kendell to look at a pony—he handed me a paper containing something which he said was £5—we went to Manor Park, and the man was out, and we went into a public-house, and Kendell said, "You had better hand it back," and it was given over—I said at the Police-court, "I told Kendell I should round—on him. He then gave me £5 wrapped up in paper. This was after I had made a statement. I handed the money back to Kendell in a public-house outside the station in Manor Park"—I made a statement of what he had done to a traveller, and to the soap people—he gave me the £5 in paper between six and seven p.m.; I went to look at the pony, and was to bid a price for it—he gave me the £5 to buy the pony—I could not say if he gave it to me because I told him I was going to round on him; he promised me a horse and van on one occasion—I said I did not want the horse and cart, I wanted the money.
ALFRED CHARLES WILKINSON —I managed Kendell's Portway Road shop—in July we were engaged alone night in taking stock at the Harrow Green shop, which came out at something under £600—just after that Kendell said he wanted three japanned trunks of goods shifted, and told me to come and shift them for him—he said he had taken a stable in Stacey Road—I was about to take the trunks, when the prisoner said, "Never mind, I will take them away"—they went somewhere—after that stock was taken away from the Harrow Green shop—a number of cases went to a stable—I saw Hobbs one Saturday before the stock-taking at the Port-way
Road shop; he bought a bicycle bell—after the stock-taking I saw him at the Harrow Green shop—he asked if we had any fourpenny brushes, and Sweeting said, "You have plenty in the trunks"—Hobbs said, "I have not; there are none there, I have looked"—I asked Kendell where the three trunks were, and he said, "They have gone to Gipsy Lane, somewhere"—I afterwards knew that Hobbs lived at Gipsy Lane.
Cross-examined. The only time I had any conversation with Hobbs about this was at the Harrow Green interview—I did not know till then where the. trunks were—I had not helped to pack them, and did not know what was inside them—all I heard Hobbs say was that he had looked—I was introduced to Mr. Morgan as Kendell's brother or brother-in-law for the purpose of taking stables—Kendell asked me if he might do so—I did not know the stable was for the purpose of storing goods—I swore at first that Kendell's horse and van were my property—that was not true; I have given them up a long time ago—Kendell asked me to have my name put on the van, and keep the pony for its fodder, and I was to use it on my rounds—I don't know that that was so that his creditors should not get hold of it.
JOHN WILLIAM KENDELL (In custody). I have PLEADED GUILTY to this indictment—I have been about five years in business—I first saw Hobbs when he was sold up under his bankruptcy—early in July I was in difficulties through my shops not paying—Hobbs called at my Leytonstone shop to sell me something between 1st and 6th July—it was before stock-taking—I told him about my affairs, as regards my two shops in the Portway Road not paying, and I did not know how to meet my creditors—he suggested that I should go through the Bankruptcy Court; that he had done so and he could aid me—I said I thought of calling a private meeting of creditors, and he advised me not to do so, because, he said, "They will be down on you all at a time; directly they know the state of your affairs they would be continually worrying you"—from that time he came frequently to my place; he was there at one time nearly all the week from day to day and at different times in the day—he was no connection of mine—he never told me what he was doing this for—he told me to wait until I was sued before filing my petition—he had goods from my shop from time to time—he did not pay for them—I spoke to him more than once about calling a private meeting of my creditors; he said, "Don't be a fool; listen to me," something to that effect—I first took steps with regard to moving my property on 6th July, the day after the Royal Wedding, in consequence of what Hobbs said—he advised me to remove goods so that when I went through the Court my assets should not come out quite so large—Hobbs took premises at 225, Neville Road, to store goods in from my shop, and I sent there the goods which were afterwards found and given up—I took a stable in Stacey Road, to which goods were removed—Wilkinson and Sweeting both knew I had taken it; Hobbs did not know—Hobbs gave me the key of the Neville Road place after he had taken it—when Sweeting packed the three japanned boxes I was not at the Harrow Green shop, and Wilkinson moved them to Sweeting's house—Sweeting said he had hurt himself lifting the trunks upstairs, and I should have to move them from his place, and so Wilkinson fetched them away, and then I and Hobbs took them to Hobbs's house—Mr. Marsh was to
do the legal part of filing my petition—I have never seen him—Hobbs introduced me to Foot, and said he was Marsh's clerk; that was in the Spotted Dog—I think I saw Foot two or three times at my place with Hobbs—I have not seen him here—Hobbs prepared my statement of affairs at his house; he arrived at the figure of £295 for my assets—I knew nothing about bankruptcies under. £300; it was my first experience—at the time he was preparing the statement of affairs the boxes were at his house—Foot was there on two occasions—I told my wife about this matter at the end of August, before I went away to a friend's for a day or two.
Cross-examined. I made a statement in writing to my solicitor at Holloway—these matters were then fresh in my mind—I have never said before to-day that I saw Hobbs and had this conversation with him prior to the stock-taking—it became plain to me in June that I should not be able to meet my liabilities, and then I had a conversation with Sweeting about it, and he mentioned the Bankruptcy Court—he was the first to mention it—he did not volunteer to help me through the Court, only to do what I wanted him to do—Sweeting made the first suggestion to me of moving goods away before I had any conversation with Hobbs about it—Sweeting was the instigator of the whole thing, not Hobbs—Sweeting then helped me to pack goods away till the time he left—I had not started, with Sweeting, packing goods away before the conversation with Hobbs—I took no notice of what Sweeting said; I did not promise to give him money for doing it in June—Foote did not at the time of the public-house meeting suggest that I should remove goods; he did afterwards indirectly, and I understood what he meant—I only kept a rough day-book of cash takings, and a book in which I put down the amount of the invoices as they came in, and one or two in which I put down goods paid for in a day or two—the goods Hobbs had of me were simply small items for household use, not goods of any value—he was assisting at that time in preparing my statement of affairs—I was present when he took stock by himself, after goods had been removed, and a week or so before the petition was filed—he knew the value if the things very well, he was in the same business—I have five children—my children went away after the affair with the trunks for a holiday—I was not giving up my house—I don't remember telling Hobbs that my children were going away; I might have said a good many things to him.
JOHN A. FARMER . I produce an inventory of the goods found in Stacey Road and 8, Neville Road—the value of each lot is considerably over £10—they represent the stock of an oil and colourman and an ironmonger—the value of the three lots is £100.
Cross-examined by MR. ISSACS. The valuation made on the inventory is £95 12s. 11d.; a large majority of the goods were found at Stacey Road.
THOMAS LAIDLOW . I am an examiner in the Official Receiver's Department in Bankruptcy—the prisoners brought me a statement of their affairs and left, and shortly afterwards Hobbs came and said he would give me any information I required, as he probably could give me more information than anybody else—he said, "I prepared it; it is in my writing"—this is it (Produced)—we got one copy, and the other was placed on the Court file—he asked whether we could allow him any remuneration, as he had been engaged on the statement of affairs some
considerable time—I told him that under the circumstances we could not allow him anything, as he had not been properly appointed by the Official Receiver—he said he was not an accountant—I asked if he was a friend—he said, "Not particularly"—the bankrupt had notice to attend—he came, and went through the statement, and made certain corrections.
Cross-examined by MR. ISAACS. There is nothing unusual in a debtor paying somebody to inquire into his affairs for him, but if we understand that a debtor has no means of paying, we refuse to allow it unless he has been appointed by the Official Receiver.
EDWARD HOBBS . I am a chartered accountant, of the Old Jewry—I was appointed trustee on September 5th, the Official Receiver having acted before that under Section 121 of the Bankruptcy Act—I never saw Hobbs till April—when he failed I wrote to him for Kendell's books, and he replied by letter, and said, "The books are now in the hands of the Official Receiver; I will call on you on Tuesday, the 10th"—he did call, and told me he had taken the stock—immediately he left I put it down in writing that he prepared the statement of affairs, and got the stock taken down in a book which he could send; that he introduced Foote, who was a clerk to Marsh, and did his legal business when he went through the Court, and had introduced him to Kendell, and that Foot and he advised Kendell through the proceedings; that Kendell had undertaken to pay him for the statement of affairs, £10, but did not pay him anything, but had given him £12 10s., which he had handed over to Foote in part payment of £15 agreed to be paid by Kendell to Foote; that he admitted having three trunks, which he intended to stick to in payment of his fees for preparing the statement of affairs, which would be in Hobbs's own writing; that he believed the trunks contained new clothing, but afterwards understood that they contained goods, and he incidentally mentioned that the bankrupt possessed the nick-name of "The Fire King"—he also said, "I took the Neville Road stable"—he produced a stock-list next morning at the Police-court, dated August 8th.
Cross-examined. Hobbs made no attempt to conceal anything; he seemed rather proud of what he did; he seemed to think he was putting me up to a wrinkle—I inferred that the trunks contained clothes because he said "New things"—I may have said at the Police-court, "Hobbs said they contained new clothes," because that was the impression on my mind—as to the £12 10s., Hobbs has paid nothing; the £12 10s. was towards the £15 to be paid to the solicitor—I believe Kendell signed the statement of affairs—the stock under Schedule H was put at £334; that is the stock he handed to me at the stock-taking—£334 correctly tallies with the statement of affairs handed in.
Re-examined. After certain deductions the assets realised £295, and being under £300, it was dealt with summarily—it was £295 in the statement of affairs—sufficient stock was taken away to bring it down to that figure.
C. SWEETING (re-examined by MR. ISAACS). I believe I said at the
Police-court I was not in want of money, I had plenty—goods were removed before the stock-taking, at the latter part of June.
By the COURT. Some varnish and oil and cans were taken away by the van before the stock-taking, by Kendell's directions—I do not know where they went; no entry was made in the books, and if they were to go to customers, an entry would be made in the books—I said, "Kendell took down a list of stock in a book, of which I saw him tear up the leaves afterwards; he said, 'I am tearing up the book;' from the end of June to the end of July various goods were removed."
HOBBS— NOT GUILTY , the JURY stating that they thought Sweeting and Wilkinson ought to have been in the dock with him. KENDELL received a good character.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended Cohen.
WILLIAM HENRY COWLEY . I am a clerk at the General Post Office, Powis Street, Woolwich, the house of Mr. Cowley—on 16th September, about 4.30, Walker came in for a 7s. 6d. postal order—I was going to weigh one of the half-crowns she gave me, but she disappeared outside the door—I afterwards found the coin was bad, and put it in the gas jet—this is it (Produced)—this is the order I issued—I saw Walker again at Wool-wich Police-court.
KATE GRAYSON . On September 16th at a little after five o'clock, I was at the shop of Mr. Stone, an outfitter, of Woolwich—Levy came in for a white handkerchief, price 23/4d., and gave me a half-crown—I gave him the change, and enclosed a farthings worth of pins on a pink paper, and put the half-crown in the till after trying it twice—I afterwards gave it to Mr. Stone—this is the handkerchief, and this paper is similar to what the pins were in.
THOMAS WILLIAM TAYLOR . I am assistant to Mr. Wallace, a draper, of Woolwich—on 16th September, a little after five o'clock, I served Levy with a cotton handkerchief, price 23/4d.—he gave me a half-crown—I gave him the change and gave the coin to the cashier, Mrs. Wallace; this is it.
FLORENCE SQUIRES . I am an assistant at Mr. Wallace's shop—on Saturday, September 16th, about five o'clock, I served Walker with goods, price 1s. 63/4d.—she gave me a half-crown—I gave it to Mrs. Wallace at the desk, and gave Walker the change and this packet of needles (Produced)—I saw her again outside the Police-court on the following Monday and identified her—I had described her to P.C. Williams.
and about two minutes afterwards Walker came in—they were both there at the same time, and while they were there Taylor and Squires each brought me a half-crown—I did not notice that the first one was bad till after I had exchanged the second; they were both bad—there were no other half-crowns in the till—I went out and saw the three prisoners together at the top of Hare Street, about two minutes' walk off, and saw silver passed among them—I am Sure about Cohen—I had never seen him before—Walker went into another shop, and I informed the police, and then saw him put a half-crown in his mouth—the constable caught him by the throat, and I saw two half-crowns come out of his mouth into the road—I saw Walker outside the Police-court on Monday; I had given a description of him—I gave the two coins to the constable.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I went out of the shop Walker had left about two minutes—Powis Street is the principal street of Woolwich, and on Saturday it is a busy street—there were a good many people about—I got close to the prisoners, and was walking by their side before I spoke to the prisoners—I did not hear Cohen say that he picked up the parcel of coins in a handkerchief.
JOHN WILLIAMS (127 R). I was on duty in Hare Street, Woolwich, on September 16th—Mrs. Wallace gave me information, and I arrested Cohen and Levy, who were standing on the kerb about the centre of the street—I told them the charge—Levy said, "I do not know that man," pointing to Cohen—on the way to the station Cohen put a packet into his mouth; I seized him by the throat, and he threw out this packet containing ten half-crowns smothered in blood—I searched him at the station, and found £2 0s. 6d. in silver, 1s. 11d. in bronze, a postal order for 7s. 6d., and two new handkerchiefs, one identified by Taylor and the other by Grayson—I found three good half-crowns on Levy—I arrested Walker on Sunday, the 18th; she made no reply—I received this packet of needles from Mrs. Cronin—when they were charged, Levy kept saying, "I don't know this man."
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I caught hold of Cohen he said, "I have done nothing"—I mean to tell you that he put into his mouth a packet containing ten counterfeit half-crowns—he was discharged on Saturday, and taken again on Monday—he did not say on the Saturday that he did not know Levy, but Levy said he did not know Cohen—Levy gave me an address; his father lived there.
WILLIAM JOHN ALLEN . I keep a shop at 277, City Road—on 7th September I served Cohen with twopennyworth of sweets—he dropped a half-crown on the counter and it rolled on the floor—I gave him the change, and picked it up after he left and found it was bad—I ran after him, brought him back, and gave him in custody, and made him give up the sweets—I broke the coin in half and gave it to the constable—I think this is it.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I followed to the station and the inspector did not take the charge—he was a stranger to me—I did not identify him in the cell—this is the first opportunity I have had of seeing him—he is the man.
FREDERICK HANKS (46 G). I was called to Mr. Allen's shop, and in consequence of his statement took Cohen—he said he did not know the coin was bad—I found on him a good half-crown and threepence—he gave his name, John Simmonds, 46, Sellon Street, Brick Lane—the inspector did not take the charge—I saw him again last Wednesday at Newgate, and picked him out from others.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I was directed to Newgate by the Treasury Solicitor, and saw nine boys walking in the yard.
Cross-examined. I believe the makers have a number of persons distributing their coins.
Walker's statement before the Magistrate: "I was not in Woolwich on the Saturday they charge me with uttering counterfeit coin. If I was at Woolwich, why did not they charge me? I think this has been put on me; I am quite innocent of the charge."
Levy produced a written defence, stating that he did not know Cohen or Walker, and was only asking his way of Cohen, when the constable took him.
Walker produced a written defence, stating that she had lived with Cohen twelve months, and ten left him, but when site heard he was taken up she went to the station to see if it was so, and was taken, and that she had never seen him with bad money.
GUILTY .—COHEN**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. LEVY†— Ten Months' Hard Labour. WALKER— Discharged on recognizances.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
PHILLIP JOHNS . I am barman at the Ship Tavern, Church Street, Rotherhithe—about five p.m. on 5th September, Dwyer came and asked for half of mild and bitter—I served him—he gave me a half-crown—I gave him 2s. 41/2d. change—I put the half-crown on the slab; there was no other coin there of that denomination—he picked up the newspaper, but he was looking over the top of it to see what I was doing, and not reading—I was serving a young lady in the same bar—I took down the acids to test the half-crown, and as I did so Dwyer drank his ale and went out—I found the half-crown was bad, and called after him, and I ran round the bar and called him back, and told him the coin was bad—I fetched a constable, and was present at the arrest—he was detained—I afterwards handed the coin to Mr. Baker—I did not see Franklin.
JOSEPH BAKER . I am manager of the Ship Tavern—on 5th September I was in front of the door when Johns called to me, and I followed Dwyer, who was going out rapidly—I was not ten yards behind him when Johns called out, and when I got outside he was one hundred yards up the road—I overtook him and said, "You have been passing a bad half-crown at
the Ship; you will have to come back with me"—he said, "I don't want to go back"—I caught hold of him—he said, "If it was a bad one, take this; this is a good one," and he offered me another coin—I would not take it; I said, "You will have to come back and explain the matter"—he hesitated and came back—Johns handed me this coin in Dwyer's presence—I asked him how he came into possession of it—he said "I am in the habit of going away, and I cannot say where I got it from"—I said, "You don't appear to me like a man who is in the habit of going to sea, and moreover, you don't get English money in foreign parts; that tale won't do"—he said, "To tell you the truth, governor, I am a carman; I have been out of work six weeks. I left my last employer because he was continually stopping my money out of my wages at the week's end. I believe I got this from a stall in the Cut"—at this time we were in the bar—Franklin came in with a one-armed man—Franklin said, "What is up? Is it bad money?"—I took no notice—Franklin called for two halves of ale and put down 1s., and said, "Give this to the governor and see if he can tell if that is bad or not; I don't believe he can tell a bad one when he sees it"—I sent for a constable; before he came there was a cry, "Here comes a policeman!" and Franklin and the one-armed man rushed out of the bar, leaving half their ale undrunk—the shilling Franklin gave me was good; he took his change—I afterwards saw him outside my house—I told him he was implicated in this matter of passing the bad coin, or else why he was so anxious in asking where they took the other prisoner, and which was the way to the Police-station—he made no. remark—I walked to the station, and sent a constable back for him—I handed the coin to the constable.
JOHN CROPE . I am a waterman, of 15, St. Mary Street, Rotherhithe—on the afternoon of 5th September, I was at my ground-floor win low, and saw the prisoners and a one-armed man together; they stopped outside the window, and one of them was pointing over to the New Dock Inn way, and the other the Church Street way, and they went together to the Ship—shortly afterwards I went by the Ship to go to work, and I saw a crowd outside—I went in and called for a bottle of Kops's ale—I was standing by the side of Franklin and the one-armed man—one of them, I think the one-armed man, offered one shilling—they turned and said to me, "What is the matter?"—I said, "I don't know, you ought to know"—they said, "It is bad money, ain't it?"—I said I don't know"—then they heard the children calling out, "Here comes a policeman" and ran out of the house—they left only a little drop of their beer—as I came back from work I saw Franklin, and I told Baker—after seeing Dwyer go from the front of my window towards the Ship I next saw him at the bar of the Ship.
JAMES LAWRENCE (215 M). I was called to the Ship shortly after five on 5th September—I found Dwyer detained there—Mr. Baker handed me this counterfeit half-crown and charged Dwyer, who said nothing—I searched him, and found two shillings, one half-crown, and fourpence halfpenny good money—he said nothing when charged at the station; he gave a correct address—I afterwards arrested Franklin, and told him the charge—he said, "What are you going to take me for?"—I said, "You will see when you get to the station"—I searched him there, and found on him a good half-crown; he made no reply to the charge
there—when asked his address he said, "I hare no fixed residence"—he said he had worked at the Irongate Wharf—I found that he had worked for Mr. Woodruffe, of Crutched Friars, for a good number of years, till quite recently.
HENRY JOHNSON . My mother keeps the Royal Oak Public-house, Union Road, Rotherhithe, about 200 yards from the Ship—I saw Johnson the afternoon of the 5th September, and followed him to the Ship, where I saw Dwyer—I had seen Dwyer that afternoon talking to Franklin outside the Bell; they walked away together—I knew Franklin before, not Dwyer—on 17th August Franklin came into the Royal Oak, and tendered a florin for half an ounce of tobacco; my barman served him in my presence—I picked up the florin, and broke it with my teeth, and told Franklin it was bad—he said, "I did not know it. I have been at work all day, and that was what was given to me. Do you think it would pay me to carry only one about me 1—I said, "It would not pay you to carry more about"—I told him to go away—I recognised him when I saw him on 5th September—I saw Dwyer arrested on 5th September—I saw Franklin and another man leaving the Ship—Franklin returned in five minutes, and I asked him to come to the station, and he said he would—he was detained there.
Crow-examined by Franklin. I knew you by your walk and your face—no one who saw your face would ever forget it.
Dwyer, in his statement before the Magistrate, said he did not know the coin was bad.
Franklin said he went into the public-house for drink, and saw Dwyer having a row about bad money.
JOSEPH BAKER (Re-examined). I did not say to three witnesses, "You keep to what I have told you and you will be all right; and come and have a drink, and you will be all right when you come to the Old Bailey."
JOHN CROPE (Re-examined). Baker did not tell me that if I would stand to what I had said at the Police-court it would be all right. Dwyer, in his defence said that lie did not know the coin was bad. Franklin in his defence said he heard the discussion in the public-house about the bad coin, and that on his way back lie was arrested.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Charles.
930. HARRIET VINSON (57), was indicted for, and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the manslaughter of Emma Elliott. MESSRS. CHARLES MATTHEWS and BANCROFT Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
she was 32 years of age—we had been married about twelve years, and have had six children—the last child was born on the day of her death; that was her sixth confinement—on 24th of July, about twelve or one in the night, she was taken in labour—I called in Mrs. Russell, a friend of ours—I had known the prisoner as a midwife; I had spoken to her some few weeks before; it might be five or six weeks or more—I made arrangements with her to attend my wife when she was wanted—she said 8s. 6d. was her price—in the early morning of 24th July I went for the prisoner, and brought her back, and she attended my wife, with Mrs. Russell, until the child was born, which was at twenty minutes to one in the afternoon—I had to go away at half-past one—my wife was suffering in the ordinary way at that time, I should say—the prisoner appeared to be perfectly sober then—I got home again about ten minutes past three—I met Mrs. Russell in Windsor Street; she spoke to me, and I went home—I found my wife lying across the bed, dead—the prisoner was in the room—all she said to me was, "It was a bad job"—I was, of course very grieved and upset, and I did not pay any particular attention to the prisoner; I did not notice her—when I left, at a quarter to one, I believe there was some spirits in the room; there was a full bottle in the morning—I am not quite sure whether any was taken out or not—it was an ordinary sized bottle—I left it to my wife to make all the necessary provisions for her confinement; I had to attend to my work—I gave her 13s. that day—I don't say that there was any meat in the house; there was sugar, and butter and tea—it would not be true to say there was no food—my wife had had a certain amount of trouble and difficulty in her first confinement, and it was necessary that instruments should be used on that occasion—she had no trouble in the four subsequent confinements—on the last occasion before this, the fifth confinement, a midwife attended her, also on the third and fourth; that midwife was not the prisoner—she had not attended her before this.
Cross-examined. I heard of her some few weeks before, as a midwife who had attended a large number of confinements successfully—she came very early in the morning—I was present when the child was born——when I returned and found that my wife was dead, a Mrs. Allen was in the room—the prisoner was standing by the side of the bed—she said it was a bad job; I don't recollect her saying anything, else—I did not see her walk out of the room; I was too much upset to notice anything—I am not aware how soon she went out—I saw nothing to show that she was drunk—I was not aware how much gin was in the bottle—I heard my wife ask her if she would have some gin, not that she herself might have some—if I said so before the Magistrate it must be a mistake; she did not want any—she had taken gin in her other confinements—I did not see the prisoner take any—the child is still living—I don't know if she suffered from flooding in her previous confinements—I have to be away at my work, and could not be at home much—I don't know that Mrs. Russell had any gin—I never saw her have any—my wife wanted some beer—if I said before the Magistrate that she craved for beer, it would be quite correct.
Re-examined. In consequence of that, about six in the morning I fetched some, and she drank about half a glass—the prisoner was there
at the time—she just wetted her lips—that was all she had as far as I knew.
LUCY RUSSELL . I am the wife of Henry Russell, of Godmore Lane, Chertsey—on 24th July I was called to the Elliotts' house—I had known Mrs. Elliott before—I got there about three in the morning; she was then in labour—I stayed with her till about twenty minutes to four—I saw the prisoner there—she was quite sober when she arrived—the labour continued till about half-past twelve in the day—the prisoner arrived about twenty minutes to four in the morning, and the two of us remained till the child was born about half-past twelve in the day—it was not a very difficult labour—when I first went into the room I saw a bottle of gin on the drawers; it was full—just before the child was born the prisoner had some of it, about half a tumblerful; she gave some to Mrs. Elliott, about half a tumblerful; she put some water with it—in the morning, a little after six, the husband brought in some beer; the prisoner had some of it, and Mrs. Elliott—I believe it was all drank soon after—later on there was some more drank by Mrs. Elliott and the prisoner—at the time the child was born, about 12.25, the prisoner was quite sober—after the child was born Mrs. Elliott became very light—headed; she fell off the bed on to the floor—that was nearly two o'clock; the prisoner was there then—I made an effort to help Mrs. Elliott back to the bed; I asked the prisoner to help me put her back again, and she could not do it, because she was so drunk—she took some gin and water after the child was born, and before Mrs. Elliott's fall, about half a quartern—I did not see her take any more—that was about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after the child was born—Mrs. Elliott was very lightheaded at that time—I could see that the prisoner was drunk, because she could not move herself to help me; she was sitting down—she did not make any effort to come and help me; she could not move at all—I sent Mrs. Elliott's little girl for Mrs. Snelling, who came, and the two of us helped Mrs. Elliott on to the bed—directly after the child was born the prisoner pulled Mrs. Elliott about dreadfully, when she was light—headed; she was not light—headed before—there was a little bleeding at the time the child was born, not much—the prisoner pulled her about with her hand between her legs with the whole of her hand several times, not her arm, and she brought the after-birth away in pieces—she was doing that for about five minutes—she put the pieces into the chamber—she did it gently, not very roughly—there was dreadful bleeding; that began directly after the child was born, and continued about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour; I can't tell exactly—it went on till she fell off the bed—she was exhausted—Mrs. Knelling told me to go for Dr. Daniels, and I went, leaving her and the prisoner in the room—Dr. Daniels did not come at first—I went back to Mrs. Elliott; the prisoner was still there and Mrs. Snelling also—I did not notice Mrs. Elliott's condition at that time; I hardly stayed a minute—I went and fetched Mrs. Allen, and she went for Dr. Daniels—I did not go bad; to the room; I went to find Mr. Elliott—Mrs. Elliott was then very ill indeed—I did not go back to the room till after she was dead—the bottle of gin was then nearly empty—the prisoner was there when I went back—she was very drunk—when the bleeding began she did nothing for it—there was a great quantity; it came through the mattress and palliasse on to the floor—Mrs. Elliott was a very thin woman—while
the bleeding was going on I sent the little girl for some brandy—the prisoner suggested it and gave it to her—I only saw the prisoner drink anything on two occasions—about two o'clock I went downstairs to make some tea; that was about ten minutes before Mrs. Elliott fell off the bed—the prisoner was all right then, when I left the room—when I came back I could see she was drunk—I saw that some of the gin was gone in my absence.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for some time as a mid-wife, attending confinements, as far as I know successfully—I saw her give gin to Mrs. Elliott once—I had half a wineglass full—Mrs. Elliott became light—headed directly after the birth of the child—there was no watch or clock in the room—it was rather a difficult confinement—I had never been at one before—the prisoner was walking about the room most of the time—I expect she would be rather tired after being there for eleven hours—during the whole of that time she was attending to the deceased—she had a little piece of bread and cheese about eleven, that was all; she had a little beer with it.
KATE SNELLING . I am married—I live at Albert Place, Windsor Street, Chertsey—on 24th July, about half-past two, I was called by Mrs. Russell; I went to Mrs. Elliott—she was on the floor in a very bad condition; she appeared to be suffering—there was a great quantity of blood upon her, and on the bed and on the floor; I helped Mrs. Russell and the prisoner to get her on the bed—I thought the prisoner was drunk—I advised a doctor to be sent for, and Mrs. Russell went for Dr. Daniels; she returned without him—while Mrs. Russell was away the prisoner pulled Mrs. Elliott about in a very rough manner—she took her by the arm, and she took her by the throat, and told her to lie down—when Mrs. Russell came back I left.
Cross-examined. The prisoner helped me put Mrs. Elliott on the bed—I had not seen her before—she said nothing in my hearing—I thought she was drunk by her rough conduct.
Re-examined. She seemed queer; her manner was very strange—she seemed very tired and fatigued.
CAROLINE ALLEN . I am the wife of Albert James Allen, of London Street, Chertsey—on 24th July, at ten minutes to three, Mrs. Russell came for me to go to Mrs. Elliott—I found the prisoner helplessly drunk by the side of the bed—Mrs. Elliott was lying across the bed, with her feet on the floor—she turned her eyes, and gave me a smile—I went to fetch the doctor, and when I came back she was dead—the prisoner was leaning on the bed, with her hands on the bed, helpless drunk—about half-past nine that morning I had gone in to see Mrs. Elliott, and I saw a bottle of gin on the drawers; it was full then—when I returned with the doctor in the afternoon it was empty; there was only about a teaspoonful left in it.
Cross-examined. When I went in the deceased was lying crossways on her back; there was a pillow, but she was not lying on it; the baby was by her side—the prisoner did not speak to me; I only saw her for a moment—I did not know her before.
HERBERT DANIELS . I am a medical practitioner at Chertsey—on the afternoon of 24th July I had a message from Mrs. Russell, and afterwards from Mrs. Allen, who took me to Mrs. Elliott's; I arrived there as
near three o'clock as possible—when I got into the room the prisoner was there beside the deceased, who was lying half across the bed, with her legs on the floor—she was blanched, as though from loss of blood—the prisoner was standing in an ordinary position on the right-hand side of the bed—I said to her, "Is the after-birth removed?"—she answered, "You had better look yourself"—I did so, and in the chamber I found portions of the placenta with some clots of blood; the umbilical cord was attached to one of the pieces—the bed was saturated with blood, and the floor also—the child was on the bed naked, and unwashed, that would be natural; the woman was probably trying to do the best she could with the mother—I won't be sure whether I called the prisoner's attention to the after-birth—I ordered her away; I did not think she was in a fit state to remain there; I don't know whether she left; I did—Mrs. Elliott was dead when I got there—next day, the 25th, I made a post-mortem, assisted by Dr. Floyd—the cause of death was hemorrhage.
The further details of the evidence given by this witness and by Dr. W. W. Floyd and Dr. Luff do not admit of publication.
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. PICKERSGILL Defended.
FRANK CLARK . I lodge at Rowton House, Bond Street, Vauxhall—on 2nd October, about 12. 20 midnight, I was just going up to bed when I saw flames coming out of cubicle No. 323—the rooms are in cubicles, with a bed in each, and a separate door—there is a corridor, with doors opening into each room—255 was the prisoner's cubicle; mine was 357, next to the prisoner's; I had to pass his to get to mine—323 was to the right, opposite the prisoner's—on seeing the flames coming out of 323,1 instantly rushed down and pushed open the door of 325, and saw about half an inch of paper flaring up, right in the centre of the bed—I rushed to the top of the landing and gave the alarm of "Fire!" watching the door at the same time—I waited till Pearson, one of the staff, came up—he went into the room, and the prisoner came out behind him, with some things all flaring up—when Pearson rushed into 323 the prisoner was inside, standing looking at the Are—I am sure he had not entered the room after I saw the fire and before Pearson went in; he must have been in there behind the door—I did not hear him say anything.
Cross-examined. He had lodged there about sixteen days—I had not been sleeping in the same corridor all that time; this was my first night there—I am not living in the house now; I think I left on the 15th, two or three days after the fire—I am now living at the County Council lodging-house in Parker Street, Drury Lane—the corridor is about the length of this Court; 323 is about four yards from the top of the stain—I only went to the top of the landing; I did not go down the stairs—I cried, "Fire, fire!"—Pearson came up instantly—I went back wards towards the stairs, watching the door of 323 all the time—the cubicle is
about six and a half feet long and about five feet broad; the bed in it is about two feet wide and nearly six feet long; the door opens towards the bed—I did not go up to bed alone; other persons were going up as well—when I got into my cubicle I jumped up on my bed and looked over the partition and saw the flames coming from the bed; the partition is about six feet high—a fire had occurred before this; not in the same corridor—I never saw the prisoner till I went there.
ERNEST PEARSON .—I am porter at Rowton House—the prisoner had been lodging there about three months; I don't know whether he always had the same cubicle—on 2nd October, between twelve and one, I heard the alarm of fire from upstairs—I ran up as fast as I could, and I saw Clark between the door of 323 and the landing—I said, "Where is it?"—he said, "There"—I ran into 323 and saw the prisoner standing by the side of the bed nearest the partition, and the bed was all on fire; the sheets were blazing, and the other things were smouldering—I pulled him on one side, roiled up the clothes, got outside on the landing, and put them out—I called up Hyatt, the manager, and the prisoner was afterwards given into custody—he had gone up to bed about ten minute before this took place.
Cross-examined. There is a gas jet in the corridor nearly opposite 325—that would throw a certain amount of light into the prisoner's cubicle—I have known lodgers strike matches in their cubicles; there is a rule against it—from Saturday to Monday we usually have a rougher class of lodgers—I have been there ever since the house was opened—I believe there have been five fires there—the first was on 19th September, on the same landing as this; the second was on 20th September, not on the same landing; the third was on 28th September, on the floor above this; the fourth was this one, and the last was on 5th October, on the same floor—the prisoner was given into custody immediately after the fire—the prisoner had taken off one coat when I went in—there was one chair in the room.
Re-examined. He had his boots on.
GEORGE HYATT . I am the manager of Rowton House—on 2nd October, about twenty minutes past twelve a.m., I was called upstairs to the corridor—I found Pearson there with some bedding which had been alight, put out—shortly after the witness Clark made a communication to me, in consequence of which I spoke to the prisoners—he was in the corridor; Clark pointed to him, and said, "That is the man, sir, that is the man; I saw him in the cubicle"—after the excitement had subsided I asked the prisoner what he had to say—he said he tried to put the fire, out by putting a sheet over it—he appeared dazed; I think he hardly realised his position—I had no alternative but to hand him over to the police—there are 134 cubicles on that floor; on that corridor, which is a short one, there are ten or twelve, there are four corridors—the side corridors are very long, the north and south ends are very short on this floor—there are 134 cubicles on the top floor, 471 altogether; 463 are for lodgers—there were nearly 100 lodgers on the same floor—I think the house was nearly full—the exact size of the cubicles is about 8 feet by 5 feet, the length of the bed is 6 feet 6 inches, the door, when open, would touch the side of the bed—there would be room for a man to stand behind the door.
Cross-examined. This is a lodging-house, recently established by Lord Row ton—I have been manager about four months; I am the chief of the salaried officers—there is no committee of management—there is a director, Mr. Farrant—practically, I have the management—I told Mr. Farrant to give the prisoner into custody—the other fires resembled this—we have had one fire since the prisoner has been in custody; that was on the same floor, but on another side of the building.
ROBERT WHITFIELD (168 W). About twenty minutes to one on the morning of October 2nd, I was called to Rowton House, and the manager gave the prisoner into my custody for setting fire to some bedding—on the way to the station he said, "I did not do it; I went to try and put it out"—I afterwards returned to the house and went into the cubicle where the fire had taken place—I saw a bare bedstead and some burnt paper—I went into the cubicle occupied by the prisoner, which was immediately opposite the fire, and found there one match; it had been struck, the brimstone was off it—I seached the prisoner at the station and found on him these matches loose in his pocket—they correspond with the one found in his cubicle.
THOMAS JONES . I am a fireman—I was called to Rowton House on October 2nd, and found there had been a fire in the cubicle—the Woodwork was not burnt, no paint was scorched, nor any harm done to the woodwork—the only harm was to the bed and bedding.
Cross-examined. He is very highly connected—he has been in the employment of a tea association, who give him an excellent character for honesty.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was in my cubicle, and I saw the flames. I pushed the door open and tried to put out the fire. I wish to correct the statement of the first witness; he did not see anyone in the cubicle when he first saw the fire."
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
936. RICHARD CARBERRY (45) , to two indictments for forging and uttering receipts for the payment of money, and also to stealing a post letter while in the employ of the Post-office.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM SALTER . I am a builder, of Webber Street, Lambeth—on Saturday morning, 2nd September, I was walking through Webber Street, about 100 yards from my house; it was very dark at that part—two men came in front of me, two or three came to the side, and some more at the back—I endeavoured to get into the road from the pavement;
the men all came on me at once and stopped me, put me against the wall and stole my watch, and an American stud; they nearly choked me—after they had got all they could one of them gave me a very hard blow over the mouth and knocked me down, and I lay on the pavement ten minutes before I recovered—the watch was worth £23—this stud was afterwards brought tome by Sergeant Gray, and I identified it—I do not identify the prisoner.
SARAH THOMPSON . I live at 4, Gray Street, Waterloo Road—I knew the prisoner's mother many years, and I have known the prisoner on and off since he was a boy—on Saturday, 2nd September, between seven and eight in the evening, the prisoner came to me and showed me this stud, and said he had found it in going through my back parlour, and would I lend him or give him half-a-crown for it—I gave him half-a crown—I took the stud to a pawnbroker's to get a pin to it; I left it there—next day Sergeant Gray came and saw me, and I gave him information.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective Sergeant S). On 7th September at eleven a.m. I went with Sergeant Gray to Oakley Street, and there saw the prisoner—I told him I should arrest him for stealing Mr. Salter's watch and stud on the morning of the 2nd—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I said, "The stud you sold to Mrs. Thompson for 3s."—he said, "I don't know it or her; it is a good job there are two of you, or you would not have taken me"—he was afterwards confronted with Mrs. Thompson, who said, "You know, George, you sold it to me"—he said, "That is right."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. When I accused you of stealing the watch you said, "I know nothing about it"—when I mentioned the stud, you did not say, "Yes; I sold it to Mrs. Thompson for half-a-crown."
FREDERICK GRAY (Police Sergeant L). I was with Brogden when the prisoner was arrested—I showed him the stud, and said, "George, Mrs. Thompson says you sold this stud to her for 2s. 6d. last Saturday"—he said, "She is a liar"—Mrs. Thompson said, "George, you know you sold it to me"—he said, "Yes; it is all right."
Prisoner's defence. I am not guilty of the robbery; I found the stud about 50 or 100 yards down Webber Street—my mother can prove I was at home.
GUILTY on Second Count. — Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
938. GEORGE ROBERT EDWARDS (23) , Stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a letter containing two postal orders for 5s. and 2s., and THOMAS EDWARDS (20) , a soldier, feloniously receiving the same MESSRS PHILBRICK, Q. C., and DAY Prosecuted and MR. ARTHUR GILL Defended.
NELLY SKINNER . I am the wife of Thomas Skinner, living at Belmont—on 28th July, I went to the Belmont Post-office about half-past seven in the evening, and bought two postal orders, for 5s. and 2s.—I had with me an envelope ready addressed to Mrs. Cheek, 71, Church Road, Upper Norwood—I put the orders into the letter, closed it, and gave it to the postman, George Edwards.
Cross-examined. He put the letter in the bag and closed it—I think the young girl who served me with the orders was there at the time—I came out of the shop, and I think the prisoner went by train—this was on the Friday—I gave a statement on the following Thursday.
Re-examined. In the meantime I wrote to Mrs. Cheek and received a reply that she had not received my letter.
HETTY SIDWELL . I was assisting at the Belmont Post-office, kept by Mrs. Simmonds—on 28th July, in the latter part of the day, I remember issuing two postal orders for 5s. and 2s. to Mrs. Skinner—these produced are the orders; they are signed by M. Gibbons, the post mistress—at the time I issued them there was no other writing on them; they were issued in blank, to be filled up with the name of the payee—the prisoner, George Robert Edwards, was present at the time—he was a postman employed there—he was very near to Mrs. Skinner—it is a small room—he was waiting for the letter-bag, which he would take to Sutton.
Cross-examined. Our office is a sub-office; it is a general shop—Mrs. Gibbons is the only Post Office official there—it would be the prisoner's duty to take the letter-bag to Sutton; it' is about a mile and a quarter to Sutton—Mrs. Skinner took the letter outside the shop—the letter-box is outside—she did not come in again—the prisoner remained in the shop about ten minutes after Mrs. Skinner had gone out.
Re-examined. When I had filled up the letter bill it would be the prisoner's duty to go outside and clear the box; he would not come in again—I am sure Mrs. Skinner took the letter with her outside.
CAROLINE CHEEK . I live with my daughter at Upper Norwood—I receive all letters that come to the house for my daughter; she is an invalid, and is confined to her bed, and unable to leave—at the end of July I did not receive a letter containing two postal orders for 5s. and 2s.—I did not cash any such orders, I have never seen them—they are not signed by my daughter or myself.
CHARLES MAIDMENT . I am an assistant in the Post-office at Carshalton; it is about a mile from Belmont—in the course of my duty I remember on 29th July cashing these two orders for 2s. and 5s.; I initialed them—they purport to be filled up at Carshalton to F. Edwards—I do not remember the person who presented them—I do not remember ever seeing a soldier in the office.
Cross-examined. I was not spoken to about this matter until Mr. Brooks called about a week before I was at Epsom—I should cash an order whatever name was on them, if properly filled up.
WILLIAM THOMAS EDWARDS . I am one of the chief clerks in the secretary's office at the General Post Office—in consequence of complaints I went to Sutton to investigate them, George Edwards was employed there as a postman—I saw him, and afterwards his brother Thomas; he was in private clothes when I first saw him; I saw him afterwards in uniform—I had a long conversation with George Edwards, but nothing specific about these letters—these orders had not come in then—on 30th August I had some conversation with Thomas Edwards at his mother's house, in the course of which, at my request, he gave me a specimen of his handwriting—a pocket-book was found by Brooks, and I said to Thomas, "Is this your writing?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "May I take it?'—he said, "Yes"—I then took these specimens marked "2" and "4"—later on in the same day, at my request, he gave me these two other specimens of his writing, "1" and "3"—he said he was engaged on special staff duty at St. George's Barracks—I went there, and made inquiries,
also at Canterbury—when I saw him again I told him I had been to St. George's Barracks, and that they had no knowledge of him; I also told him I had been to the depot of the regiment at Canterbury, and they told me he had deserted—the regiment has since sailed for India—I have a fair knowledge of handwriting.
Cross-examined. He raised no objection to giving me specimens of his handwriting—I asked George Edwards to allow me to search him; he allowed me without demur—he seemed a little upset.
Re-examined. I found on him £4 in gold, and 8s. in silver—his salary was 17s. a week at the Post-office.
FREDERICK WILLIAM MANN . I am in the secretary's office of the General Post Office—it is my duty to examine handwriting; I have been so engaged many years—I have seen these two postal orders, and also these documents, "2" and "4"—in my opinion these are in the hand writing of Thomas Edwards—I can point out my reasons for forming that opinion—I draw attention to the capital "E" in the word "Edwards," and to the same letter "E" in specimen No. 2, as being similar; also to the small "s's in the same specimen and in specimen No. 4; and also to the "s" in "Edwards" and in "Carshalton"—those similarities are not so marked as in the others—from my examination I am satisfied that the writing on the orders are the same as on "2" and "4."
Cross-examined.—I am in the employment of the Post office, in the Confidential Inquiry department; it may be called a detective department—I am not a professional expert; it is part of my duty to examine handwriting, and has been so for seven years.
Cross-examined. George Edwards has been in the Post-office since 1883—he was a telegraph boy—since then he has been earning 17s., a week—about thirty-five persons are employed at the Sutton Post-office—when the bag from the Belmont Post-office is brought to Sutton the letters are brought in loose—the collector would face them up, and hand them to the carriers—George Edwards was collector on 28th July—there is a good deal of work done there; it is the district head office.
By the COURT. NO one would have anything to do with the letters but George Edwards, except when they were handed to be stamped—such a letter as this would go through the inland department, and would reach Norwood next morning.
NOT GUILTY .
AUGUSTUS BIDE . I am a glover, at 11, Princes Street, Hanover Square—on 6th August I packed two pairs of gloves to send to Miss Higgin botham, a customer—these are the gloves—one pair was 4s. 9d., and the other 4s. 3d.—I addressed the packet to Heath Lodge, Brighton Road, Sutton—I gave it to Bishop, my porter, to post between four and five.
Cross-examined. I sell a great many gloves, but more particularly now suede gloves, not so many kid as formerly—one pair was made for us by Dent, Allcroft and Co., and the other by J. R. Morley, of Wood Street—I have a book in which a record is made of the goods I sent to Miss
Higginbotham; it is not here—my name does not appear on the gloves, nor is there any mark of mine on them—the persons who make these gloves make a large quantity—I daresay other retail dealers get gloves from the same makers—it is the cut and style of the gloves I sent—a large number of gloves of similar make and style are sold in London.
Re-examined. These gloves were made on my order—one pair 669 three-quarter size ladies' four-button gloves—I have no doubt that these are the gloves I sent to Miss Higginbotham—my book has entries of these two particular gloves; I took a copy of the entry on a piece of paper.
JOHN BISHOP . I am a porter, in the employ of Mr. Bide—on 12th August he gave me a packet to post—I posted it between four and five at Vere Street District Post-office—it was addressed to Miss Annie Higginbotham, the Heath, Brighton Road, Sutton.
Cross-examined. My daughter is ill in bed, and unable to be here—she received a letter from the lady who sent the gloves, asking why she had not acknowledged them, and my daughter told me she had never received them.
Re-examined. I was in the house—the packet should have been delivered on the Sunday morning, and no such letter came.
CHARLES BLACKMORE CHURCH . I am chief clerk at the Sutton Post-office—a letter posted at Hanover Square between four and five in the afternoon would arrive at Sutton the following morning, and should be delivered on the Sunday morning—the delivery bill is here, signed "G. R. Edwards"—it would he his duty to deliver the packet at Miss Higginbotham's.
Cross-examined. The Vere Street Post-office is one of the principal offices at the West-end, it is a large central office—a large number of persons are employed there—there would be other letter-carriers besides the prisoner at Sutton on the morning in question—each man signs for his own round—this delivery would be on the prisoner's round—the sorters would deliver the letters to the postmen.
CAROLINE COOPER . I am in the service of Mr. Bomford, a clergyman, of Bloomfield Road, Sutton—last August I went with the family to St. Leonards—while staying there Thomas Edwards came down on the 20th, and gave me these two pairs of gloves—inquiries were afterwards made, and I gave them to constable Brooks.
ARTHUR REED JACKSON .—I am a solicitor—I was conducting the case before the Magistrate at Sutton as agent for the Post Office—both the prisoners were in the dock on this charge—a solicitor was employed by them, and he had an opportunity of cross-examining the witnesses, and making a defence—I heard Miss Higginbotham sworn and give her evidence—the deponent stated that she had never received the packet.
GUILTY .—There were eight or nine other indictments against the prisoners for similar offences. G. R. EDWARDS— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. THOMAS EDWARDS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BANCROFT Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
941. EDWARD BURT (19), and ARTHUR BARNES (20), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Ledsey, and stealing a watch and chain, his property. BARNES also PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony at this Court in November, 1892, in the name of George Clark. BARNES— Twelve Month' Hard Labour. BURT— Four Months' Hard Labour.
942. WILLIAM SPEARING (44) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Albert Bone, and stealing a bottle of ginger brandy and other articles and £35; and WILLIAM JOY (29) , to receiving the same. SPEARING also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Aldershot in July, 1872.
SPEARING— Six Months' Hard Labour.
JOY— Discharged on recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
JOHN WILLIAM BLAKE PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted.
NATHAN LANSBERG . I am a wall-paper merchant, living at 192, Jamaica Road, Bermondsey—John Blake was a customer of mine, and owed me 38s.—on 19th August the two prisoners came together, and said that if I would cash this cheque for £6 15s., they would pay me what was owing—I gave them £5 10s.—I can't say which prisoner produced the cheque; I saw it lying on the table—I required the cheque to be endorsed—John told George to endorse it, and George did so—we all went out and had a glass of ale together—on 21st August the cheque was returned to me marked," Account at Rotherhithe Branch. Signature differs—I gave information to the police—I do not know Mr. Marney. (The cheque was drawn on the London and Midland Bank, payable to G. Blake, and was signed G. Marney.)
ARTHUR JAMES DALE . I am assistant manager at the London' and Midland Bank, Bermondsey—we had a customer named Marney, who moved to the Rotherhithe Branch—I know his signature—this is not it—this cheque comes from a cheque-book we gave in September, 1892, to the prisoner, J. W. Blake—we closed his account before June, before this cheque was issued; the cheque-book was not returned—in my opinion, all the front of the cheque was written by J. W. Blake, and the endorsement, by George Blake—I think I have seen his writing once or twice, but I cannot swear to it.
JAMES MARNEY . I am a contractor, of 20, Plough Road, Rotherhithe—I bank at the London and Midland Bank, Rotherhithe—this signature is not mine, nor any part of the writing on this cheque—the form did not come out of my cheque-book—I think the "G" resembles writing I have seen of George Blake's, nothing else—he carried out some alterations for me—I have seen him write three or four times, on an estimate and on receipted bills.
FRANK NELL (Detective M). I arrested George Blake on 8th September at Fort Road, Bermondsey—I said, "I am a police officer, and am going to take you into custody for being concerned with your brother in forging a cheque and obtaining £5 10s. from Mr. Lansberg, Jamaica Road"—he said, "You have made a mistake, it is my brother you want. I never made but one cheque out in my life"—I said, "You and your brother were together, and you signed the cheque"—he said, "I deny it"—at the station I showed him the endorsement—he said, "I never signed it; it is hard I should be made to suffer for my brother."
JOHN WRIGHT . I am manager of the Star Music Hall—George Blake came there on 22nd August and asked me to change this cheque for £4 15s.—I told him I could not; I would ask my employer to do it—I gave it to Mr. Hart, who put it on one side, and when he came back in an hour or so he gave me authority to cash it, and I gave George Blake £4 15s.—he wrote this endorsement in my presence—his brother, John William, was with him, and John William's wife—I knew him as a customer.
ARTHUR JAMES DALE (Re-examined). This cheque for £4 15s. purports to be signed by J. W. Walling; we have no such customer—the cheque comes out of the same book as that in the last case came from, the book issued to J. W. Blake—I should think it was written by the same hand as the last, but I cannot be certain—it was returned—there is an A. J. Walling with whom the prisoners used to do business—the prisoners are in the building line, and Walling is in the same line of business.
George Blake's statement before the Magistrate: "I did it, as I thought, honestly enough. Now I can see my folly, and wish you would settle it."
In his defence lie stated that lie did it honestly, not knotting the cheques were bad. The prisoners received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
There teas another indictment against the prisoners, for forging and uttering an order for the payment of£4 15s.
MR. COLLINS offered no evidence against GEORGE FRANCIS BLAKE.—NOT GUILTY. JOHN WILLIAM BLAKE.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MORGAN Prosecuted.
ALBERT HATTON (196 N). On the early morning of 16th September I was on duty in the New Kent Road, and I saw the three prisoners there—Irwin and Rawley passed me, and one of them said, "Look out"—I turned my head towards the gardens and saw Brown, who ran and jumped over a fence from 109 to 107—I chased him down two or three gardens and lost him—I went to the garden of 111, opposite Farrell's shop, and found in a corner of the garden a teapot, this set of carvers, and a box of cigars—I got under a tree and watched—Irwen and Rawley came back, looked up the garden, and went on as far as Harper Street—thinking they had seen me, I left the garden and placed myself under a tree in the roadway—the prisoners looked up and down Harper Street and different streets, evidently watching for me—they came back, and when they got
opposite to me I stopped them and asked them what they were loitering about for—they said they were not loitering about, they were going home; that they had been as far as the Bricklayers' Arms for a cup of coffee—Rawley was wearing this silver Albert watch-chain—I asked him where he got it—he said he gave a shilling for it at the Elephant and Castle—the prosecutor identified it, with the other articles, as stolen from his shop—I arrested and charged them—Rawley said, "I know nothing about the teapot"—I searched Irwen and found two knives and a latchkey, which have nothing to do with the case—Irwen and Rawley were re-charged with burglary next morning—Irwen said, "Who it to prove it? no one saw us; no policeman saw us"—I went back to the garden of 111, and found these four tablespoons and some table knives buried in the ground—the prisoners were smoking cigars, which I have compared with those in the box, and they are similar—the prosecutor identified this box of cigars and the other articles as his property; some cigars have been taken out of one of the boxes.
Cross-examined by Rawley. I saw you three times in the road.
Cross-examined by Brown. You had different clothes on that morning—I know you well.
JOHN GEORGE (359 L). I was called by Hutton on this morning, and assisted in arresting Rawley—I found on him a latch-key and a penknife—I questioned him about being out that night—he said he had not sufficient money to pay his lodgings; he said he lodged in Bull's Lodging-house—I made inquiries and found he was not known there—I found money or him.
JAMES FARRELL . I am an auctioneer and general dealer at 120, New Kent Road—about eleven p.m., on 15th September, I closed and fastened my shop—between two and three next morning the police rang my bell, and informed me that the shutter was raised, and my window broken—I saw the glass was taken away from the shop window, and these good (produced) were stolen from it—the silver chain found on Rawley is mine.
WILLIAM LEONARD (Sergeant N). On the morning of 16th September, I received information of this burglary—on the morning of 23rd I told Irwen and Rawley they would be charged with the burglary—Irwen said, "Who is. to prove it?'—Rawley said, "Yes; no one saw us do it; no policeman saw us do it"—on 14th October Brown was charged—I saw him at the Rodney Street Station—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with two others in a burglary at 120, New Kent Road—he said, "I did not break the window"—I had not said a window had been broken.
Cross-examined by Brown. I did not ask you to tell me who broke the window.
Irwen, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, stated that he met Rawley, who said he had bought the chain for a shilling, and asked him to have a cup of coffee.
Brown said that lie knew nothing about it.
Rawley, in his defence, said that he bought he chain for a shilling, and that he met Irwen, and they had a cup of coffee.
ALBERT HUTTON (Re-examined by the COURT.) Brown is the boy who got away; he was not caught till a week afterwards—I have seen him about the Elephant and Castle, sometimes selling papers; I know him well; I recognised him on that morning—he was taken into custody in
consequence of a description I gave—I saw the three boys at three in the morning—I am convinced that Brown is the boy—I did not see him after that morning at the Elephant and Castle; I went several days to look for him—he was taken in the Waterloo Road.
GUILTY †— Six Month' Hard Labour each.
945. GEORGE WILSON (28) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Payne Winter at Kingston-upon-Thames, and stealing three coats and other articles, his property.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
946. HEERE SHAH (26), KARIM BAKHSH (otherwise called KREAM BOCESH (36), KHAIR DEEN (25), and SHAHAH BEDEAN (28), were indicted for unlawfully conspiring to cheat and defraud divers persons who should resort to them for the purpose of being treated for diseases of the eyes. Other Counts, for conspiring to defraud certain persons of their moneys, and for obtaining money by false pretences.
Two interpreters were sworn to interpret the evidence to the defendants. This case commenced on Tuesday, October 24th, and occupied six days.)
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS, BODKIN, and HEWITT Prosecuted; MESSRS.
JERVIS and BOVILL SMITH appeared or Heere Shah and Karim Bakhsh;
MESSRS. BALL and WARBURTON for Khair Deen and Shahah Bedean.
SARAH RALPH . I am the wife of Charles Ralph, of 52, Livingstone Road, Clapham Junction—in June last, I went to 1, Park Villas, Merton Road, Wandsworth—before I went there I had some printed paper given me—I could not read it—I was only able to see with one eye, the right, but not properly and clearly; I could not see to read—I could distinguish objects at a little distance—with the left eye I could only see light from dark—I went to that address for the purpose of being treated for my eyes—I went about 15th June, with my sister-in-law—I saw Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean—they were both in the room when I went in—I sat down in a chair, and Heere Shah looked at my eyes with his naked eye—he then rubbed some stuff on a slate, and put it in both my eyes; he did it with what I should compare to half a knitting-needle—they said nothing as to why they put the stuff there or what was the matter with my eyes, not till the third time—that was all that took place that day—I went home; I went again later in the day, about two o'clock, and saw the same two, and the same thing was done; some stuff was put in my eyes—I can't say whether they both put it in at that time, they were both there—I went three days, twice a day—on the third day Heere Shah examined my eyes with a hand-glass; he told me he could cure me in a short time—up to that time I paid a guinea a day and 10s. a week—I was not charged anything for the first and second days' visits—after the examination with the hand-glass Heere Shah cut each temple, and put some stuff in my eyes—it hurt me very much; my eyes smarted—I did not pay anything for the operation; I only paid 10s. a week; I paid the guinea on the third day; I paid that to Heere Shah—I continued to
go week by week, twice a day; he put some stuff in the eyes every time I went—on those occasions I saw Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean, always the same two—I went again on the 5th July and saw the same two—on that day an operation was performed; I did not know that I was going to have an operation on that day—I sat down in the chair; my husband was there—I could not say which one it was that operated; it was one of the two; they were both round me, Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean—they placed one or two hooks in my right eye; before that they put something in my eye and put some wet wadding on it, which was dabbed on my eye—after doing that I was left for a few minutes; then they put the hooks into my eye—that did not cause me pain; I had no pain at that time—they took a skin off; I was not able to see it afterwards—my husband saw it, I did not; they did not show it to me; they showed it round the room—after the operation they put some black stuff round my eye and put some wadding upon it; it was some paint, I should think, and a bandage was put over it—no direction was given me as to how long I was to keep the bandage on—I then left with my husband—after the operation Heere Shah said he wanted a testimonial—he spoke in English—my husband hesitated about it, I could not tell what he said—a testimonial was given on that day—I was not in the room at the time—I went again the next day—nothing was done then to the eye that had been operated upon—some stuff was put in the left eye—I paid constant visits up to the 14th of August; on that day I went again with my husband to the fame address—I then saw Heere Shah, Shahah Bedean and Khair Deen and another Indian; that was not the one I saw at Richmond; I have not seen or heard of him since—I saw Shahah Bedean in the morning, he was alone—he said I was to come in the afternoon, and then I saw the four—I sat down in a chair, and Heere Shah applied some wet wadding to my left eye, and he pinched a little round lump underneath my upper eyelid; he did it with his finger—they got round me, and cut my eyelid and took something out—Shahah Bedean did that, while the others stood round—I did not see what he did it with, I had my eyes shut—I could not tell what it was that he took out—they then put some wadding on and bandaged it up—I had a lot of pain from that operation—no money was paid for that operation—by that date, the 14th August, the bandage had been taken off my right eye, and I had a shade over it instead—after the second operation I stayed away and went to a convalescent home—I did not go to them again for about a month—I was not sent to the home through them, but through my friends; I was only suffering from weakness—after that I went for two weeks to Verandah House, Richmond—I there saw Heere Shah first alone—I went to say that I would not go on with his treatment; my husband was ill and laid up at the time and out of work—I had no more money—Heere Shah saw my husband that day; he was with me—he asked me when I could come under his treatment—he examined me with a glass, and said God had given me bad sight, and he would give me good sight—he said he would take me for five shillings a week; that was after I had said I had no more money—I only went there twice, I think, in October—I asked him if there were any more operations—he said, "No"—during those two weeks Mr. Khair Deen cut my right temple; I could not say with what; it was some instrument—Heere Shah was present—after my temple was cut a blister was put on; it caused me
very great pain—I paid five shillings to Heere Shah; I mostly paid him—altogether I paid £5 11s.—I don't remember having paid any to Khair Deen—I do not remember any testimonial being given after 5th July—I am now very nearly sightless with my right eye; that has got much worse—I did not notice any change in the left eye after the operation on the right; it is getting worse now every day—that commenced soon after the operation last September—it began to trouble me while I was at the convalescent home; it had not troubled me before—after the operation it bcaused me pain—since the operation my sight has altered for the worse.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I can see a little to-day out of my left eye—when I went to the Indians I had something the matter with both eyes; my left eye was the worst, but my eyes varied—I sometimes saw better with my left, sometimes with my right, when I went there—now my eyes do not vary at all except that they get worse; the left is the better eye—I see you through that—I complain that I am not better—my eyes were worse at the convalescent home—I had to come home—that home had nothing to do with the prisoners—I got worse there—I was not treated for my eyes at the home—I would have undergone the operation suggested by the prisoners in October, but that my husband was short of money because he had been ill and out of work—after the operation of July 5th I went on August 14th to have another performed—I don't remember my husband writing a testimonial on August 14th; I will not swear he did not—I cannot see well enough to identify his writing—after the operation on 5th July I did think I was gaining sight daily until I had the other operation—I did not think my eyes were going back again as they did after the last operation—between 5th July and 14th August I thought I was gaining sight—I believe the second operation, on 14th August, was quicker than the first—something was taken out of my eyelid—I don't think it was a tumour—I did not derive any benefit from that—I had a lot of pain—all that was done after I came back from the convalescent home was that my temple was cut—I can see now with the left eye; it is gradually going—I could not see so well with the left eye before going to the prisoners; my eyes varied so—I don't remember the testimonial which my husband gave being read over to me—I said before the Magistrate that the first time the testimonial was read to me it was one of the printed bills—I cannot say that he never signed a second one—I gave a testimonial on 5th July after the operation, and when my eyes were bandaged, because Heere Shah guaranteed my eyes would not come bad any more, and he talked my husband into giving it—I was there, but not in the same room in which the testimonial was written out—I cannot remember what was said—I don't remember a second testimonial being signed by my husband—I could see the men who operated; I could see better before the operation than after—I received no money for giving the testimonial, nor did I receive any remission of my payments—I paid 10s. on the Thursday after the second operation, I think—my husband was not out of work then—I made a complaint when someone came to see me from three to five weeks ago, and I told him what had happened—it was no good complaining before, because they had gone from Richmond.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I first saw Shahah Bedean on 14th
August, and ho told me he could not perform the operation because; Heere Shah was not there, and asked me to go again in the afternoon—I went again, and Shahah Bedean cut my eyelid—I am certain it was he; I said so before the Magistrate—my eyes have given me trouble for six years last Christmas—I had been under medical treatment before I went to the prisoners—I had not undergone any operation—I had been under some eminent medical men, and had not improved under their treatment—I could see a lot better with my right eye before I went to the prisoners than I can now—it was a very rare thing for me to go out at night before I went to them—between the first and second operations my eyes were improving daily, up to the second operation—I was not able to go out at night by myself up to the time I was at the Richmond Police-court—there has been a difference in my sight since I was at Richmond, and a lot of difference since last Tuesday—when I describe my sight as being worse than when I went to the prisoners, I mean that it has got worse during the last fortnight or so—I first heard that the testimonial I gave on 5th was printed twelve months ago, I daresay; it was soon after it was printed—it was read to me—I did not know that the second one was printed till I heard it in Court (The testimonials were read. The first stated that a successful operation had been performed on the right eye by Kream Bocesh, the Indian, in the presence of the undersigned witnesses, and that in a short time tits left eye would be operated on, and that the public should know tits result. Tits second one stated that a successful operation had been performed on her right eye on 5th July, and that on 14th August an operation was performed on her left eye; that the second operation was quicker than tits first, and that sits was gaining sight daily)—I heard the first one read to me from the print a week or a fortnight after 5th July, 1892; I don't remember ever hearing of the second till I was at Richmond Police-court—I don't remember my husband mentioning it to me—I do not know who it was who came to see me about a month before I gave evidence at Richmond—I don't know if he was a policeman; he was in private clothes—I could see that—I could not tell that now unless he were close to me—that would be before this prosecution commenced—I was examined in September.
Re-examined. As near as I can say I went to the prisoners first on 15th June—between then and the operation on 5th July the sight of both my eyes improved rather—after the operation I kept the eye bandaged for about fourteen days—I took the bandage off myself, as I had been told I might—there was no improvement in the sight after I took off the bandage, it seemed just about the same as it was before the operation; I could not see any better or any worse—I should think, I went into the convalescent home six weeks; or, so after the operation on 14th August—I kept the bandage on the left eye for about eight days I think—there was no difference in the sight of the left eye then—a difference commenced in September, 1892, when I wan in the convalescent: home;, both eyes got worse, and since that time they have got worse—I was at St. Thomas's Hospital as an outpatient for about twelve months in 1889 and 1890, and there I was under the care of Mr. Nettleship.
her sight—on 5th July I and my sister went with her to 1, Park Villas, Merton Road, Wandsworth—I had not been there before with her—she gave me the address; I had not seen a printed paper before going—I Maw the landlady, Heere Shah, and Shahah Bedean—there were other Indians' there, but I do not recognise them—my wife was placed in a chair and Heere Shah took a powder from a bottle, placed it in a glass of water, put a bit of wadding in the glass and placed it on the eye—the wadding was removed after a few minutes, and then Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean each took a hook—the surface of the skin of the eye seemed to me, when the wadding was taken off, to be puckered and drawn over the sight, so that they could get hold of it with the hooks—Shahah Bedean put one hook in the skin in the outer corner of the eye, so that he could shift it as Heere Shah cut it with the scissors; the other hook was held by Heere Shah in his left hand, and that was put in another part of the eye, in some skin it might have been, while with the scissors in his right hand, Heere Shah clipped the skin—it was an ordinary pair of scissors—the skin he clipped was right over the sight of the eye, over the pupil; it seemed to be taken right off all over the eye—I saw the piece of skin cut off; it was the size of a threepenny piece when it was held up—Heere Shah it was, to the best of my belief, who held it up to the light on the hook—there were several patients in the room all sitting round; some had the stuff in their eyes which was put in before operating, and there were people who came with the patients to look after them—they could have seen the operation if they had looked, but they did not all witness it. I cannot tell what was done with the piece of akin—after it was taken off I saw it—after the skin was taken off from my wife's eye the eye was bandaged up, and I went and sat down, and Heere Shah came to me and asked me for a testimonial—I declined to give him one—I did not say I would not, but I declined at the time—I asked him it the eye would get better—he said, "The eye is good; no more bad; new sight," so I then consented to give him one, and I and the landlady, Mrs. Becker, and Heere Shah went into the next room, and made out this testimonial between us; I refer to the one on white paper as being correct—I think Mrs. Becker actually wrote it—this produced is it or like it—it was drawn up on the 5th of July—I could not tell when I first saw it in print—on the 7th August I went again with my wife to the same place—to the best of my recollection I then saw Shahah Bedean—I don't think any other Indians were there—as soon as we got in he said, "No operation to-day, nicker Sunday," meaning next Sunday—I went again on the 14th August; my brother and sister went with my wife in the morning; I did not; I went in the afternoon—I then saw Heere Shah, Shahah Bedean, and another Indian whom I do not recognise—they went through the same process with my wife, with the powder, water, and wadding, and put it on the eye; Heere Shah did that—I did not notice the surface of the eye after that—Shahah Bedean covered the eye up; he forced the back of the eye as forward as he could, and then with a small penknife, or a knife, lanced the eyelid right through, and he forced something out; it seemed to me like a small bunch of lights, about the size of a filbert—it bled very much—after Shahah Bedean cut it away with the scissors he passed it to another Indian, who is not here, and he took it away; he would not show it to us—Heere
Shall gave me a bit of wet linen rag for the blood, while Shahah Bedean got some ointment and put on the rag and bandaged it up—that was all that passed that day; we then left—nothing was said on that occasion about a testimonial, and I did not sign one on that occasion—my wife then went to a convalescent home—I afterwards went again with my wife to the Indians at Verandah House, Richmond—nothing was done that day.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I only signed one testimonial, that I recollect—I have no recollection of signing another—I recollect this one, because I and Heere Shah and Mrs. Becker went to get it up; it was nearly forced upon me, because he said unless I did he would not go on with the treatment of the eye—I could not say how long my wife had been under treatment—the testimonial I gave is true. (Looking at another paper)—I would not swear this is my signature or not—I cannot read very well. (The witness read the document through).—I have no recollection of signing any such document—I only knew Mrs. Becker by seeing her—I have no pea collection of having signed this second testimonial (The witness at request wrote his name)—I generally use a piece of black lead; it is not often that I use a pen—I did not know when the operation was to be performed; I knew it was to be some time—at the second operation my wife's eye was not swollen a bit; what was taken out of her eye was very near the size of a nut—my wife could not see it; I did—she was not to undergo another operation in October at Richmond; I could not afford it; if I could have afforded it, of course, she would have kept going, because they said the eyes were getting better; instead of that they were not—when they removed they left their address behind them—I did not take the trouble to contradict this testimonial—I saw this green one at Richmond Police-court, I think not before, but I would not swear that, I don't remember it—I did not take any step to contradict it, because they were gone—I did not know where they had gone—I complained to several persons of the treatment my wife had received at the. hands of these men—I mentioned it to Cousins; he lives in Plough Road, Clapham Junction, or Battersea—I did not take any step to prosecute them—I did not go with my wife to any doctor, or to any hospital—Cousins is the only one I shall mention; I don't want to mention everybody I told—Cousins is a platelayer on the. South-Western Railway—he is in employ now.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I think I remember saying at Richmond Police-court that I saw the green testimonial about two months ago; that was a mistake of mine—I now think I did see it two months before I gave evidence at Richmond; I had a discussion with my wife about it—I did not take any steps to contradict it—I did not communicate with the police or anybody else—Heere Shah told me that if the eye failed to get better I could contradict the testimonial in the papers; that was on 5th July—I said before the Magistrate that I told Heere Shah that if the eye failed to get better I would contradict it in the papers, and Heere Shah said I could do so—it was not a new thing for my wife to be able to go alone—the reason that she had somebody to go with her was because she was not safe to cross the roads—after going six days to the Indians she was able to go without anyone—sometimes she could go alone, and sometimes she could not—the eyes seemed to vary—since that her eyes
got very much worse—I think the right eye is very nearly gone now—I thought the first operation on 7th July was successfully and skilfully done—I saw a little bit of skin removed from the right eye on the first occasion, about the size of a threepenny bit—it looked thick—we were not close enough to see through it—there used to be a piece of skin come over the sight—that was what he said he had removed; but after that it still came up, therefore I say it could not be true—after the operation it grew again and came as it was before—at the second operation both Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean took part; one did the operation, and the other was there—Shahah Bedean did it himself—he cut it with the scissors.
Re-examined. Heere Shah was present whilst it was done—it was about July, 1892, when I first saw the second testimonial—my wife sometimes went out alone before the operation—that was when her eye was a bit better—it used to vary very much, sometimes better, sometimes worse—it used to be worse when this thing came up in the eye, which he said he took away.
JAMES RUSSELL . I am a retired gasfitter, of Richmond—in 1889 and 1890 I suffered from my eyes, but I could see to go to the hospital by myself—I was an in-patient at the Ophthalmic Hospital, Charing Cross, three weeks, and about a year and seven months an out-patient, under the care of Mr. McNamara, the oculist there—I ceased to attend the hospital late in 1890 or the beginning of 1891—no operation was performed on me, but during the three weeks I was there I used to have injections under the skin of my left arm, and I used to have medicine to take—nothing was put into my eyes—after I left the hospital my sight got gradually worse—Dr. McNamara said the blood left the vessels at the back of the eye, and I should go totally blind; he could do no more for me—he said it was optic atrophy, and that opinion was verified, for in the beginning of 1892 I totally lost my sight, and by the middle of 1892 I could not distinguish light from darkness—in the same summer Mr. Reed, of Barnes, handed me a paper—I got my wife to read it to me—there were several testimonials on it—after that I determined to consult Mr. Karim Bakhsh at Park Villas, Wandsworth—my wife went with me, and I also went with Mr. Reed and his wife—on 8th July Karim Bakhsh examined my eyes, and put some stuff into them—he said I was to come three days a week—I went twice on "the 9th, and stopped till two o'clock, and went again at ten; it was on Sunday afternoon after dinner—he said it was free of charge for three days, and he would then tell me if he could cure me—on the third day he lanced and scratched the skin of both my temples, and put something in—I cannot say whether it was cut—he put blisters on—he told me he could cure me, and said would I have it done—I said if he could cure me I would go on with it—I understood all he said—he said I had beautiful eyes and he could give me good sight, and his fee would be a guinea the first time and 10s. a week afterwards—I told him I had been to the hospital, and was turned out incurable, and was totally blind—I went on the fourth day, Monday morning, and took the guinea, because my wife had not got it with her on the third day—he said I was suffering from a disease in my head, and it came down gradually to the back of my eyes, and when he could clear that away he would soon give me sight—that was after the guinea was paid—I went on
paying 10s. a week—I know the prisoners voices; I heard them speak before the Magistrate—I recognised Heere Shan's voice and Shahah Bedean's and Khair Deen's—Shahah Bedean was present when I was told my eyes were beautiful—my wife paid the money from week to week to Heere Shah, and sometimes to Shahah Bedean, and some money was paid to Khair Deen—I went there till they took Verandah House, Richmond, about four months after—I went there in July, and then I went twice daily, and saw the same men—five weeks before the operation on November 29th, Shahah Bedean said he would lower my money to 8s., would that do?—I said, "No; some people had it lower"—he said, "Well, 7s."—I consented to 7s.—that was because I kept, complaining that I really could not keep on—I paid 8s. for three weeks, and then it was lowered to 7s. from a complaint from me—I paid 6s. for about a fortnight—stuff was being put in my eyes, and I took castor sugar before breakfast every morning; half a pound of castor sugar and a quarter of a pound of fresh butter—that had to last me a week, and I had some pills and snuff—I had to find the butter and sugar and pills and snuff—this stuff was put in my eyes twice a day—they all three did it—about a week before December 29th Heere Shah looked at my eyes, and said, "Mr. Russell, your eye is quite ready for operation, and my fee will be 40s."—that was when the terms had been reduced to 6s.—I told him I had not got the money—he said he could not do the operation—I asked him if he would do one eye first, and I would give him the other £1 when he had done the other—he said "No," he must have 40s., and he would then do both eyes and cure me—I did not know what to do; I went home and consulted my wife, and we went next morning again—he said he could not alter it, and I went to my club, and they advanced me two guineas, out of which I paid 40s. to Heere Shah—on 29th December my wife was present at the operation, and Heere Shah and Khair Deen, and another one, was sitting in the room, but I could not see him—Mr. Parsons and his daughter, who was waiting to be operated on after me, were also in the room—I felt a hook put in at the bottom of my left eye and another at the top, and the skin was drawn on to the ball of my eye and then clipped with the scissors—it hurt me very much, it was like dragging my eye out—I felt blood running down my cheek—it was bandaged—there was no operation on my right eye—I was to return in a fortnight, which I did with the bandage still on my eye; they took it off and put something quickly in my eye and bandaged it up again—I continued to visit them at Verandah House down to April this year—no operation was performed on my right eye—the weekly payments ceased, after the operation, but I kept going once a fortnight between January and April, and they gave me pills and snuff to take—I left off going in April because my wife read in the Thames Valley Times that Mr. Heere Shah was leaving the place—they did not tell me they were going, but I left because they left, and I did not see them again till I Saw them in Court—I paid them, £13 3s. in all have had pain in my left eye ever since, and the least cold I get I suffer very much—it was not painful when I was discharged from the hospital, up to the operation; only when the stuff was in it, that gave me pain—Shahah Bedean said that my eye was in a box, and "When we take the lid off the box you will see beautifully."
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. They put it in the paper on Wednesday that they were going away on Thursday morning—before I went to the Indians my eyes were not susceptible of cold, and I never had any pain in them—I sometimes had a little pain across here after I left the hospital, which was lessened a little by the medicine—they gave me the pills to take at home—I have not got any of them left—I could have taken them to a chemist and had them analysed—Shahah Bedean said if I went twice a day they could put the stuff in for me, and they charged me no more—I went to the same hospital about a fortnight after they went away, but I did not tell the doctor anything about it—I went to Dr. Artridge then, not to Dr. McNamara; I went on a different day—I never complained at the hospital; I did not go with that intention—I did not tell them one word of what had happened—the doctor did not tell me that I lost my sight through working in the gas-works—I worked there nineteen years, and sometimes in great heat—Mr. Reed said he thought he had derived a little benefit from the prisoners—he is not here—I had never spoken to Miss Parsons before; I should not have known she was. in the room if I had not been told—I first heard her speak on the morning of the operation—my wife told me that hooks were used—I gave up the snuff at Richmond; Sergeant Hawkins took it and the bits of cones—I believe the prisoners treated me with consideration and care in what they did.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I always have pain in my left eye since the operation, and if it is a windy day, and I get cold to-day, I suffer much more to-morrow—I wore a silk handkerchief and a pad; I wore a shade after I left the handkerchief off, but it seemed to draw the draught up under—I have had the pain since the operation.
Re-examined. Mr. Reed told me that he can just tell daylight from dark—I wore the shade by Khair Deen's advice.
JANE RUSSELL . I am the wife of the last witness—I went with my husband to 1, Park Villas, Merton Road, from July down to about November, 1892, and afterwards I went with him to Verandah House, Richmond—at those places at different times I saw Heere Shah, Khair Deen, and Shahah Bedean—I did not see the fourth prisoner—just before going first to Wandsworth I saw a printed testimonial, a sort of handbill, in favour of the treatment of Kream Bocesh, and telling of wonderful cures of blindness; I read it to my husband—our friend Mr. Reed spoke to us—it was in consequence of that that we went—I was present at the first interview my husband had with Heere Shah; Shahah Bedean was present—we were to come for three days, and at the end of the three days I was to pay one guinea, and they were to tell us whether they could cure him or not—at the end of the three days Heere Shah looked at my husband's eyes with a hand magnifying glass, and said he had beautiful eyes, and that they could cure him—the terms arranged were that a guinea was to be paid the next day, and 10s. a week afterwards—we continued to go for a great number of weeks, paying 10s. a week—during that time I saw Heere Shah, Shahah Bedean, and Khair Deen from time to time; not always all three, sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes three—Heere Shah was not always there—I had a cone to grind down on slate and put it in his eyes night and morning, and he had snuff to take night and morning, and pills night and morning, and some powder mixed with
castor sugar he had to take for a few weeks, and then he had to take the powder with sugar and butter—they put the cone ground down into the eyes the day I paid the money—we went to them two or three times the first week and then once a week, and I had the medicine once a week—some times at Richmond the children took him—when we went they would put the stuff in—all the three I have spoken of put in the stuff at different times—the money we paid was reduced from 10s. to 7s., and afterwards to 6s. a week—after the Indians went to Richmond, my little boy went with my husband once, and when he came back he said something to me, and I went with my husband to see what they meant—I saw Heere Shah who said that he would operate on his eyes, and when he had done one he would see, and he would operate on the other, and give me medicine free of charge—he wanted two guineas for the operation—at that time 6s. a week was being paid—on 29th December I was present when the first, operation took place—other people were in the room, including Miss Parsons and her father, and they witnessed the operation—Heere Shah and Khair Deen were present—I saw Heere Shah put two hooks into my husband's left eye, and pull the skin over the whole of the eye up together, and slip it with the scissors—a piece of very thin skin was clipped off about the size of a threepenny piece, I should think, if it were stretched out; it bled, and when I saw the blood I turned and looked round—my husband did not complain at the time; he did afterwards—they got a piece of wadding or wool and wiped the blood up, and then bound the eye up with a silk handkerchief, which I took with me—I paid £2 on that day; a receipt was not given for the money—I asked about a receipt, and he said his tongue was a receipt—I had a paper given me before the day of the operation to tell me how much it would be—my husband was told to come back in a fortnight—the eye was kept bandaged up for a fortnight—at the end of the fortnight I went back with him, and I continued to go down to April this year to Verandah House; I then saw in the paper that the Indiana, had gone—as far as I have been able to judge, the eye has not been any better—since the operation he has complained; it has been very painful at times.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. Mr. Reed induced us to go—he spoke favourably of their skill, and he gave us the handbill—I have known my husband to be quite blind for some time—I did not approve of his trying whether they could do him any good—he told me he wished to go—I had no confidence in the operation being successful; but he was very anxious to try it—I had been with him to the hospital every time, and had heard Mr. McNamara's opinion that he was suffering from atrophy of the optic nerve, and that he would become blind—there was not also a thickness over the eye; his eyes did not look opaque, but clear as they do now—the Indians said that with the help of God they could cure him—one of them said to me, "Your eye is like a box; when I remove the lid you will see beautifully"—Miss Parsons was in the room during the operation—I cannot say it was a very mild one—Miss Parsons underwent it after my husband, not in my presence—after the operation they gave us medicine free of charge—they did not do the second eye as they promised—I never complained of being dissatisfied with the first operation—the Indians said the disease was not all killed, the inflammation was not all gone; he was
to keep it covered up longer and then he would see—Heere Shah and Khair Deen said that at different times—they continued to give him medicines with a view to killing the disease—they told us of a disease in the head.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. The piece of skin they cut off was about the size of a threepenny bit; I did not look to see if I could see through it; I was very much upset—I did not believe this treatment would •do him any good, and I told him so—I paid the money in every case; sometimes I paid it to Khair Deen, sometimes to Shahah Bedean, and sometimes to Heere Shah—whenever Heere Shah was there I would pay it to him, and I only paid it to the others in his absence—Khair Deen und Shahah Bedean said they were Heere Shah's cousins—they appeared to me to be his assistants—I looked on him as the oculist—neither Khair Deen nor Shahah Bedean did any operation in my presence; Khair Deen held the eye open—I did not know that when they left Richmond they went to Ealing—they left me some medicine at Verandah House, and told the landlady to tell me they would write to me.
Re-examined. This purple handbill was given to me by Mr. Reed, and this brown one by Shahah Bedean before the operation was performed—one is Mr. Allison's-testimonial, (The two handbills were read)—I did not at any time see Kream Bocesh—the person referred to as the Indian oculist was Kream Bocesh—none of the others said anything about him—I addressed Heere Shah as Kream Bocash all the time—I did not learn that it was Heere Shah till I was at the Police-court, Richmond; I then first heard him called Heere Shah.
ALFRED PARSONS . I am a railway pointsman, and live at 71, Faroe Road, Hammersmith—I have a daughter named Evelyn, twenty-four years of age—for some time she has been suffering in her sight; she has only one eye; she has a glass eye—I remember going to the Ophthalmic Hospital in Marylebone Road-about three years ago; her eye was taken out there, the left eye—the sight of the right eye is very bad; she can just see with it, a mere shade like—in June last year, about the 24th, I went with her to 50, Grove Road, Hammersmith—I saw Kream Bocesh and three or four other Indians, not either of these—I asked Kream Bocesh whether he could cure her eye—he had her three days to try the sight—he said she had got good sight, and he could cure her; she had got a disease, but she had good sight at the back—he opened her eye, and put some stuff in it, like ointment or paste—he examined the eye with a round glass, a magnifying glass—he put the stuff in with what looked like a kind of bodkin—I asked him what his fee would be—he said a guinea the first time and 7s. 6d. a week afterwards—that was for twice a day—no other sum Was mentioned—I took my daughter there twice a day for the attendance for nineteen weeks—I did not always take her myself; sometimes I went with her—a good many used to take her—I paid the money several times.; to Kream Bocesh at first, and to Heere Shah and Khair Deen—I do not I recognise Shahah Bedean—when I used to take my; daughter, Kream. Bocesh used to treat her in the same way; he put the stuff in her eye—all the three used to attend her; sometimes one, sometimes the other—I had not learnt the nature of the disease from which she was suffering—I remember going to Verandah House, Richmond, on December 29th, 1892, with my daughter—Heere Shah and Khair Deen were present—she was
put in a chair, and Heere Shah put two hooks in her eye at each corner—he let them bide there a minute or two; then he turned the eye up with the hooks, and then he got the scissors and cut the skin off, and put it on the table on a piece of paper; it was, as nigh as I could see, about as large as a threepenny bit; I could not see exactly—I paid a guinea for that operation after it was done—that was another guinea—my daughter appeared to suffer pain, from it very much; she very nearly fainted; she did not go quite off—I took her there after that operation for four weeks, I think—I paid four separate times, a guinea in four instalments—she has not improved a bit in the sight of her eye since the operation.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I could not say how long it is since her one eye was removed—I could not say whether she has been suffering; from the disease in the eye ever since the first one was taken out—I have no idea what the disease was—there was only myself in the room when this operation was performed; I saw it done—I could not say if it was done carefully—I did not take the piece of skin that was removed in my hand, it was spread out before me—I could not say exactly how thick it was; it was like a piece of dead skin—I could not say that my daughter's sight is worse since the operation—I paid the 7s. a week from 26th June up to the 29th September—altogether I paid £12 10s. 6d.—she had to go twice a day to Hammersmith, and once a day afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I said before the magistrate, "What he got off was something that had grown over the sight"—certainly it must have grown over the ball of the eye—I said, "It was like the white of a boiled egg, it was solid"—I also said, "My daughter could not see through it so long as it remained on the eye; she told me so"—she did not see any better after it was removed—I paid money to the first three prisoners; I paid it at separate times to each one—I always paid Heere Shah or Kream Bocash; it was only when they were not there that I paid Khair Deen; he appeared to be the assistant to the other two—I could not say whether a small white speck was left on the eye after the operation, not at the time it was done, they would not let me see it—I saw it another day, it had got larger—I said before the Magistrate "There is a bit of white on the eye now, but the rest has disappeared"—there is not much difference in it since, it does not look so large; it does not bulge out so much in the front—I have not made any complaint to the police or anybody.
EVELYN PARSONS . I live with my father at 71, Faroe Road—I have only one eye; the other, the left, was removed about five years ago, at the hospital in Marylebone Road, where I was a patient—I was suffering from caratilis in both eyes—when the left eye was removed I could just see a little with the right, light from darkness—it was still the same when I went to the Indians; no change for the better or worse—I continued to attend at the hospital after the removal of the left eye, for some months, perhaps a year—I was not told not to come again; I left of my own accord—I did not get any better—in June last year I went to Grove Road, Hammersmith, and was treated there by an Indian named Kream Bocesh, I understood; I was told so afterwards; I heard his voice—I don't remember if I afterwards heard his voice at the Police-court, Rich-mond
—some stuff was put in my eye; it smarted very much—I continued to go there about three months, twice a day—I recognised other Indians there; I don't know their names—I heard their voices afterwards, at the Grove—on 29th December I went to Verandah House, Richmond, and an operation was performed there—it caused me intense pain; I nearly fainted—I was stupefied—after the operationmy eye was bound up—I went again about ten days or a fortnight afterwards; the eye was then unbandaged, and something was put into the eye—since the operation the eight of my right eye has become worse—after being under them three months I could tell colours slightly, if the colours were very bright; that was before the operation—I took pills—after about four months the operation was performed—since that I have only been able just to see light from darkness, about the same as I could when I went to them—I have not had any operation on my right eye at Marylebone Hospital since the one five years ago—I had two operations there on the right eye before the left was removed—that would be about eight years ago—after that operation the sight of the right eye was about the same—they called it hereditary.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. Those operations at the hospital were on the right eye, the same the Indians operated upon; that was before the left eye was removed—before this operation I could not see at all—that gave me a little sight; I could see light from darkness—the second operation was no good to me; I could only tell light from darkness—that second operation was about two years or two years and a half ago—both the operations were before the left eye was removed—then I went to Kream Bocesh, and as the result of the drugs and pills, I saw colours when very bright—I took the pills, and applied the various preparations to my eye, as they advised—since the operation my sight has been no better than it was before; I can just distinguish light and darkness.
ELIZABETH GOODCHILD . I live at 70, Faroe Road, Hammersmith—I am a friend of Miss Parsons—I went with her on several occasions, and saw her eye treated by Kream Bocesh and by other Indians who are not here—he put something in her eye, a kind of bodkin, with paste on it.
FREDERICK TURNER . I am a stonemason, of 3, Bignat's Cottages, Twickenham—I have a child named William, who was four years old on September 6th; he has been blind since a fortnight after his birth—when he was six or seven months old he was an out-patient at the Ophthalmic Hospital, under the care of the surgeon in charge—there was no change at all after he ceased to attend—in the summer of 1892, in consequence of seeing some testimonials, I went to Wandsworth and took the boy with me—I saw Here Shah and Shahah Bedean, who both examined the boy with a magnifying glass, a circular glass with a handle to it, and put a little paste in his eyes, by putting a little water into a plate and then rubbing a cone, something like a coffee-nut, which they put on the end of a short needle and put it into both the lad's eyes—Heere Shah said I was to take him twice more, and he would see if he could cure him—nothing was said about charge the first three days—I did not take him the second time, my wife took him—the paste seemed to put him in great pain; he screamed dreadfully—I went once or twice after that, but I cannot say the dates, and the same treatment was done—on 2nd January, when we got into the room where the operation was
done nobody was there, but after a time Heere Shah came—(Miss Stanley, a friend of my wife's, was there)—he got a piece of wadding and put something on it, and put it on the boy's eyes—he said that that would deaden the pain; but he screamed all the time it was on, and wanted it taken off—Heere Shah took it off after ten minutes, and then took an ordinary sized needle and white cotton, and commenced to shove the needle under the skin of the eye—that seemed very hard; he had to put his finger on the other side of the ball of the eye, to keep from pushing it round—he then drew the cotton half-way through and left it there, and sat in his chair and smoked his pipe two or three minutes, the child screaming all the time and wanting the string taken out of his eye—Heere Shah said it would be all right presently—he then came with an ordinary penknife, spat on the edge of the mantelshelf, and commenced to sharpen it—I said, "That is no good to sharpen a knife"—he said, "Me not want sharp"—he then got hold of each end of the cotton and commenced to saw it off the ball of the eye with the penknife—after some few seconds he succeeded in sawing a piece off, about the size and thickness of a threepenny piece—it was not clean cut, it was jagged all round the edges—you could see that the knife was very blunt, as he used it—the boy was screaming all the time; there was no blood—the piece which was cut off Miss Stanley took home to show the wife, and I returned it the same evening, because Heere Shah said he wanted to have it—the cotton remained in the piece that was sawed off till I returned it—I paid two guineas for the operation, and had a receipt for the money—my wife told me the arrangement that was come to, and I found the money from time, to time, 10s. a week, from July to January; £15 11s. altogether, including the £2 2s.—the boy went again after the operation, but I did not go with him—he is altogether blind with the left eye, which was operated on, he can just see the flash of a candle with the other—I think the left eye has got worse since the operation, and he has a great deal of discharge from the right eye, which he never had before.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. There was a skin over his eyes, and Mr. Bocesh took something off—he could not shut his eye properly; the lid would not pass over the eye—it did in former years, but after the operation he could not shut his eye at all—the size of the eye was not improved by the operation; it was not much larger before than it was afterwards—the removal of the film did not cause it to decrease; it allowed it to get larger—this was a dead substance, and very thick; you could not see through it—I cannot tell whether the needle was only put through the film; the cotton remained, but he out deeper than the cotton—whatever was removed the cotton was introduced into that substance and he sawed underneath—he did not tell me that his object in spitting on the mantle piece and rubbing the knife was to clean the knife—since the operation the lump in the boy's eye is larger—he did not take the lump away—his eye was tied up for a fortnight, and he said it was all right, but would not allow us to look—the operation removed some of the lump and allowed the rest to grow—I said before the Magistrate, "I was a little dissatisfied with the operation," but I rectified it afterwards—I was a lot dissatisfied—I said it was a lot of money and it was rather a cool action; I was swindled, that is what it was—I did not make any complaint till I was summoned to the
Police-court—when the child was born at Twickenham he was under treatment by Mr. M'Donear, who I knew was treating him for inflammation of the eyes; he put some stuff into his eyes for the inflammation, but I did not know he was blind—he has been looked at by many doctors, and he got worse—they did not perform any operation on him at the hospital—they said there was nothing to operate on.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I paid no money to Khair Deen or Shahah Bedean—I have nothing to complain of in the treatment of the boy, but they said they could cure him, and they did not fulfil it; his eye bulges out, and he cannot close it properly—he could not do so more nearly after the operation: he had his eyelids closed and tied down—I mean that the eyelid was down across the eye, and a bandage over it to keep it closed, but he was not able by voluntary action to close it.
Re-examined. When I looked at it after removing the bandage it looked just the same—after giving my evidence I was recalled, and said, "When I said I did not otherwise complain I meant I did not complain to him of the operation, but I did complain to my wife and friends"—I also said, "I complained, too, of the Indians—that is what I say now.
MARGARET TURNER . I am the wife of the last witness—on 11th July, 1892, I took our little boy to Park Villas, Wandsworth, and saw Shahah Bedean—he examined the child's eyes with a magnifying glass, and then mixed some paste and put into both eyes with a copper needle—I took the child again next day, and saw him and Heere Shah—they did the same to him, and Heere Shah said he could cure him—I paid a guinea the first day, the 12th, and was to pay 10s. a week afterwards, and bring the boy for them to see, and each time I went the same thing was done to him—some pills and snuff were also given to him, and some stuff mixed with castor sugar, but he would only take it in-tea—that went on till January 2nd, 1893, I paying 10s. a time; excepting three times, when I could not go because I had not got the money—I was not present on 2nd January, but my husband brought the boy home with his eye bandaged—he was very bad, I thought I should lose him—he laid in the cradle and we had to sit up and watch him so that he did not take the bandage off—he was in great pain every time it was done; and after the operation, when we had to remove the bandage twice a day to put the stuff in, he used to scream dreadfully—Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean said that was to be done, and we went on putting the stuff into his eye until the Indians went away—I could not see where the eye had been operated on; he used to scream so dreadfully I did not have a chance—he has seemed in pain since; he rubs his eyes very much—up to the operation he only seemed in pain when the stuff was put in, and not before I took him to these people—since they have gone he has got on nicely—when I discontinued giving him the pills and the stuff he got better, and he was fatter—they left about April.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. He was not unhealthy before he went to the Indians; he used to dread going—he cannot shut his eye better than he could before the operation, it has got larger—he could not close his eye after the skin was removed easier than he could before.
By the COURT. If I had been told that the operation was that the eye-lid
was to close mechanically, I should not have paid all this money; I paid it that he might lie able to see.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I paid money to all three, of them; if Heere Shah was there I paid him, and if he was not there I paid Shahah Bedean or Khair Deen—I do not know whether they were assistants; they used to do the same as the others.
EVA STANLEY . I live at 10, Hill Rise, Richmond—I went with Mr. Turner and the boy to Verandah House, and saw Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean—I was there when the operation was performed—the piece cut off was brought to me; I took it home to Mrs. Turner, and left it with her—the boy seemed in very much pain at the time of the operation, and he was very ill.
THOMAS GILLINGHAM . I live at 43, Biscay Road, Hammersmith—my sister, Eliza, has suffered in her sight for some time past, and on July 20th I took her to some Indians at Hammersmith, not either of the prisoners—she was treated by two who are not here—she went to the same Indians from July 20th up to November 10th, when Heere Shah came to me at Richmond—I had been told to go to the house, where the others had gone—I asked him where the others were—he said they had gone away—I said I wanted to know who was going to complete the cure—he said he was—I asked if he thought she could be cured—he said, "Yes," there was very good sight, and he could bring it back in a very few weeks—she is totally blind, both eyes—I paid Heere Shah 10s. at the Grove, and 5s. a week for a few weeks—he said I should have to keep on the payment which I had been paying to the Indians at the other address—on the 10th November he put some brown stuff in her eyes—he gave her pills and. snuff—I took my sister to Richmond on several occasions up to the 2nd of January—on the 2nd of January I went to Verandah House, Richmond—I saw Heere Shah—he said he would operate to remove the cataract; remove the skin—he said it was to restore her sight—he dipped a piece of wadding in some liquid, placed it over the right eye, removed it, and then with a knife cut the eyelid open on the outside—it bled—then he put black round the surface and tied it up—I paid 10s. for the operation—I asked him if that was all the operation; he said "Yes;" he could do no more, the rest would be cured by medicine—I said I was not satisfied with the operation, because he said he would remove the skin; instead of that he cut open the eyelid—that, was my reason for complaining—he told me he would bring the sight by medicine; that would remove the skin—I went away—I took my sister again, and saw Khair Deen—he put brown stuff on her eyes, the same at the other—we went there last about the middle of April to find them, but found no one—I paid altogether about £7—my sister was under treatment about nine months—she derived no benefit from it.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I complain that they never did what, they said they would—he promised to remove the skin, and did not do it—I expected he would do so—I did not go to have my eye cured; it was knocked out seventeen years ago—my sister can let her eyelid down—by their orders we went to them after the operation—I paid my money that I had worked hard for, expecting good to come of it—I should have gone on attending them to see if they could do what they professed to do—I do not know that they advertised in the Thames Valley Times that they
were going away after a certain date—I do not see a Richmond paper; I live at Hammersmith—they should have given notice to the patients; they were paid to do so.
Re-examined. After the operation I told them, I could pay nothing, and they told me they would do it without further charge.
ELIZA MARINA GILLINGHAM . I live at 43, Biscay Road, Hammersmith—before July of last year I suffered in my right eye—I could only see a little light—in July I went with my brother to Hammersmith—I had been treated at a hospital—I was not told what was the matter with it—I was told nothing could be done—at a hospital at Bristol it was operated upon—I went to the Royal Ophthalmic Hospital, at Moorfields, eight years ago, and was told they could not do anything for me, but would see whether I got better as I grew older—I was an in-patient at a Bristol hospital three years ago—since the Indians had gone I was under Mr. Lawford, at Moorfields—I went to 59, The Grove, Hammersmith, on 20th July, to Kream Bocesh—after being treated for some months I went to Heere Shah on 20th November, 1892—he told me he could give me beautiful sight in my left eye—he did not say anything about my right eye, but he put stuff in it—I was treated till 2nd January, when my left eye was operated on—some wadding was put on it after being dipped in liquid; then the upper eyelid was cut from the outside and made to bleed by Heere Shah—then some stuff was put on, and the eye bandaged up for a week—when I got to Verandah House they put lint on, and I was asked to wait while they operated on the little boy Turner, and then I was told to go out because the operation so unnerved Heere Shah, and to come back at two—my left eye has been no better since the operation, but I have suffered great pain, as inflammation set in—at times I get pains in it; it feels as if the eye is coming out—I do not remember feeling those pains before the operation—my left temple was lanced in July by the other Indians—Mr. Lawford told me disease was causing me blindness.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I had consulted Dr. Webber and Dr. Cane at Crooker; then I was fetched up to go to these Indians—my sight gradually went—I went into the hospital at Exeter nine years ago—an operation there failed to restore my sight; they told my mother it was a very critical case, and they could not cure it—they treated the right eye at Exeter—the operation did not give me pain, as something was put in to deaden the pain—I have had three operations on the right eye—at the hospital they could not continue the work because I had fever—I cannot see any better for any of the operations—I can only see a little light, I cannot see anyone—I told Mr. Lawford my treatment—I did not complain that I was improperly treated, nor that I had had my eyelid cut—he did not ask me—I did not complain to any of the doctors—my complaint is these men told me they would give me good sight and have not done it; they have taken my money, ray mother's money, or somebody's money for nothing.
MARY ANN BOCKETT . I live at 16, Manor Road, Brixton—about the last week in September, 1892, I consulted the prisoners with regard to my eyes—I saw Shahah Bedean first—I saw the testimonials—three of the prisoners attended me at different times, all but Kream Bocesh—I had dimness, but my right eye was the worse—Shahah Bedean said
he would see me to-morrow and tell me if he could cure me; if he could not he would not take any money—then he said he would cure me, and the fee would be 12s. 6d.—he looked at my eye with a little round magnifying glass—then he said, "I can cure you, you have beautiful sight," and he cut my temple on each side—besides his fee of 12s. 6d. I was to pay him 7s. 6d. a week, to which I agreed—I last saw him on the Thursday before Christmas Day, which was on the Sunday—I paid altogether between £5 and £6—Khair Deen cut my temples again, and put paste in them twice a day, every time I went, with a little bit of copper wire—I was given pills and snuff to take—the right eye got better, but something went wrong with the left, which had not been so bad, and I tried to make them understand not to put anything in it—the right is still better, but the left seems to have something in it—it is uncomfortable—it was only dimness before—they said I had a disease in my head—my left eye hurt me very much, not the right so much—they said they would work the disease through my eyes, and I should not be troubled any more, as the disease was the cause of the dimness; but it has not done so—the right eye is clearer—through the aid of glasses I can see much better; I have got proper glasses since I left them—after I left the Indians, on 5th January, 1893, consulted Dr. Archer in the Gray's Inn Road, at the Ophthalmic Hospital—my sight was tested—I had glasses, for outdoors, as well as indoor glasses—the defendants should have ordered me glasses—in a testimonial I gave them they say. I was totally blind; that is false, (Testimonial produced)—I can read this: "I think it is only right to tell you how pleased I am with your skilful treatment of my eyes"—those are words I don't think I put in—"which for some time past have been failing, until at last I was quite blind"—that is quite wrong—"Fortunately three months ago your name had been introduced to me, and I can truly say you have, without operation, been successful in the treatment of my eyes; I can now see as well as ever, and the method is quite painless. I am thankful I was put under your treatment, although at first I was doubtful of success. My age is sixty-nine"—I am seventy now—I gave them the testimonial because they worried me—Shahah Bedean pressed me to give it the second day he saw me, and kept on till I gave it him three weeks after I had been to them, but not all those words—my nephew wrote the testimonial, and sent it on, but I knew when I saw it I was not blind—I could read it, but I did not stop to do so before I handed it in; I trusted to my nephew to do everything that was right by me—I handed it to Shahah Bedean, who went away, and did not attend me any more, but left it to Heere Shah—that was the last I saw of it until I saw it in print the next week in a Richmond local paper—I did not trouble to alter it; perhaps I should have done; everyone who knew me said how wrong it was to put it so—I went on attending because I thought they would cure me; then I got out of patience, and left them—they said if I stayed away I should go blind—they frightened me to go—then they sent me a letter on 1st or 2nd January—I burnt it, but I remember every word—I do not know whose writing it was—I had worn glasses since I was forty years of age.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I do not know, and did not trouble, whether the prisoners could write or not—I said before the Magistrate, "I
do not think they could write English," because I did not suppose they could, as they could not speak it—I wrote my nephew to write me a testimonial, which he did, and sent it me the next day—I did not write it, because he has done my writing since he was a little boy, and I could not see to write—I did not write to Exeter; my son was at Wandsworth—he is at Messrs. Valpy, Chaplin, and Peckham's, 19, Lincoln's Inn Fields—his name is Bockett, the same as mine—he is a lawyer's clerk—very likely I told the prisoner's landlady they were doing me good when she used to let me in, and they were at first—I may have said so on more than one occasion—two or three days after I left I found my sight going bad—my right eye got better, but my left eye got worse, and there was an uncomfortable feeling; sometimes it was better, sometimes worse—the words that I had been quite blind are the only words I can be sure were not in the testimonial.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. Before I went to the Indians my sight was dim, but I could tell light from dark very plainly—I said the method was quite painless; so it was when they cut my temples—the paste was painful, but I did not consider that part of the operation—my left eye seems as if there was a bit of dirt in it.
Re-examined, With glasses I can now see quite plainly, but without glasses my sight is very dim.
MARY PERRY . I am a widow, living at 2, Spring Cottages, Richmond—I knew Verandah House, where the prisoners were—I went there about the middle of March last—I suffered from my eyes—I could see a little—someone told me there was a clever gentleman who had come from India who would be sure to give me sight—I could see the figure of anyone, but not distinctly—I saw Khair Deen—I said, "I understand you give sight"—he said, "Yes, I will give you your sight"—he put a glass in front of my eyes, then he cut my temple, and scratched with something like a quill pen—it bled—then he put on a blister—then he mixed some yellow stuff on marble with something like a bodkin or needle, and put some in my eyes, which gave me great pain—I have it now—I have had nothing like it before—then he asked me for ten shillings—I had not got it—I told him I would endeavour to get it—he asked me what time—I said by two o'clock—I tried to get it from the minister or the visiting lady, but could not, and I did not come back again—I went home—I next received a letter from him a short time after—then I went again, and he put stuff in my eye and made it smart, and got water and a handkerchief and took it out again—I told him my sons would help me to pay if he would give me my eyesight, and he told me again he would give me my sight—he said God had given me bad sight; he would give me good sight—then he shut me in and locked the door—he said, "Give me ten shillings; you no go," and he made me sit down, and would not let me go—I went to open the door; it was locked, and he made me feel ill—he made me sit on the sofa—I begged him to let me go, and walked up and down the room frantic—he said, "Give me ten shillings; you no go; sit you down"—but C could not sit down—the landlady came, after I had stamped on the floor and tried to get out of the window—he opened the door, and she said, "If you will let her go she will endeavour to get your money"—he said, "What time?"—she said, "Two o'clock"—I went home and wrote letters to ladies for
the money, but could not get it—soon afterwards I saw him coming to the house and I ran in out of his sight and shut the door—he gave a rat-a-tat-tat, like a gentleman would do, at first; I thought he was gone, but he gave a low knock, fit to knock the door in—I mean a knock like a low man would give—I was then behind the door, on the mat, and could not move hand or foot—I was too frightened to let him in—he came back again with another rat-a-tat-tat and burst the door right open, and I ran out to the back and shut myself out, through the washhouse; I did not know what to do—he looked at the window and said, "She no but, she in," and I would not look at him—at first he said, "Indian medicine so dear, me no charge you for trouble; me give your sight, then you give me your testimonial;" but I did not give it him because I was too frightened to go to him again—the effect upon my sight is he has ruined me for life—I have got a regular fog before my left eye now; I blunder against anyone and cannot get on—when I went the second time, I said, "I received a letter from you this morning"—"Oh, yes," he said, "me wrote, me give you sight"—I should not have gone if he had not written the letter. (Letter read: "Verandah House, The Grove, Richmond, March 1st, 1893. Madam,—If you will come I will only charge you 5s. per week as you are poor; but you must come, as your disease will not recover without the aid of medicine; your sight will get worse instead of better, and when your sight has recovered I shall want you to give me a good testimonial.—Yours truly, KREAM BOCESH.")
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. The key was inside the door—I can swear there was a key because I saw him get up and lock the door—I do not know whose writing that letter is in, only that it came to my house from Verandah House—when I went to open the door I could not get out, but he undid the door for the landlady—I have no lodgers—I was quite alone when he came to my house—I said before the Magistrate, "I saw him inside on the mat"—he did not come in further than the mat inside the door.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I paid Khair Deen nothing—I cannot see so well as I could before—I had no rest three nights, day or night—I had not taken stimulants when he locked me in—I had snuff from the doctor to take night and morning—he did not order me anything else—the dispute was he wanted 10s.—that was quite enough—I never noticed him ring a bell, nor heard him—he sat down and tore up a lot of envelopes in a rage and threw them on the fire—he perfectly understood me find answered me in a proper way—I said, "Let me go and get the money"—he said, "You no go, sit you down"—when the housekeeper came up I said, "Will you ask the gentleman to let me go and endeavour to get the money?" and she said, "Let the person go, she will endeavour to get your money?"—he said, "What time?"—I said, "Two o'clock" and ho said, "You bring money two o'clock"—I thought he would have done me good, but he did not.
HARRY ALLISON . I am an inmate of Wandsworth Union—I have been totally blind with my right eye for twelve months, and my left eye is a little affected now, but not before anything was done—about October last I went to see Heere Shah; I also saw Khair Deen—I do not recollect the others—I told Heere Shah I was blind with my right eye; he said, "You can come for three days and there will be no charge, and after that you will have to pay 10s. down, and 10s. a week afterwards"—
I went for three days, and he put some stuff, with a needle, into my right eye, which made it smart very much for a time, and then it got easy—I did not go after the three days, because I was out of work and had no money—a week or two after that I met Heere Shah on Wandsworth Bridge—he said, "How is it, Allison, you did not come?"—I said, "Because I had no money"—he said, "Never mind about the money; you come, and I will attend to you and make no charge"—I went the next morning and saw him in a room with five or six other patients; there were three Indians there; Khair Deen. was one of them—they put some stuff in my eyes, and told me to come again next morning—I did so, and Heere Shah said, "I want you in the back room, I am going to operate on your eye" he asked the others, "Would any of you like to come and see the operation?"—they all said "Yes" and came in, and the landlady of the house came—I had to sit down on a chair; I cannot say what instrument he used, but he put me to a good deal of pain, and I halloaed out—after that he said, "We want testimonials"—he spoke broken English, but I knew pretty well what he meant, and he seemed by his answers to understand what I said—I said, "Well, I am not fit to write these testimonials, I am so queer," and the landlady said, "Allison, if you don't mind, I will write the testimonial, as your eye is so bad"—she wrote it and read it to me; I signed it and it was taken into the next room and read out before the patients and all that were there, six or eight persons—before the operation was performed on my right eye it was totally blind—after it was performed I could see a little—he said, "Put your finger on your left eye, and tell me how many fingers I hold up"—I could just distinguish four fingers, and I told him so—I had often put my hands over my left eye before to see whether I could see anything more with my right, but I could not—it was after I saw his fingers held up that I consented to sign the testimonial; he had given me a little sight—the landlady put a bandage on my eye—I stopped at home nearly a week before I went again—I tried several times, and could just see a very little with my right eye for six or seven weeks—I kept the bandage on about a week—after the six or seven weeks I could see nothing with my right eye, it all went black—the pain in it has continued getting worse from the operation until now—some time after the operation I began to have pain in my left eye—it began about Christmas—I had no pain in it before the operation—during the six or seven weeks I was with the Indians several times, but they only put the stuff in, and said it was going on beautifully—I did not go to them after the sight had completely gone, I thought it was no good—I never paid anything, I had no money.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. Khair Deen put the stuff into my eye—I may have been able to see a little for more than six or seven weeks; I cannot say exactly—there is nothing the matter with my left eye beyond a shooting pain occasionally, but I cannot see quite so well with it as I could before—I was seventy years old on July 31st—I was several months in Wandsworth Infirmary with my right eye after the operation—I went to St. Thomas's before I had any operation; I was not suffering pain in that eye then—that was just about a year ago, and they said, "You come in three months' time, and we will see whether it affects the other eye"—Mrs. Ralph and Miss Norman were present when the operation was performed.
CHARLES NOTTING McNAMARA, F.R.C.S . I live and practise in Grosvenor Street, and am consulting surgeon to the Royal Ophthalmic Hospital—I am a specialist for diseases of the eye, and have practised for a number of years as an ophthalmic surgeon—in the spring of 1890 I saw James Russell at the hospital—he was suffering from atrophy of the optic nerve of both eyes—I told him it was impossible that anything could be done; he was perfectly incurable; he had not the slightest glimmer of sight—I have not followed the evidence—it is quite impossible that any operation could have restored the nervous energy to the back of the eyeball, to the nerve by which sight is generated.
By the COURT. The atrophy was not quite complete, and he attended some short time at the hospital, three or four visits—I took great interest in his case, and came to the conclusion I have, and told him and his wife it was no use their coming to see me, it was absolutely useless.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I used the ophthalmoscope, so that I could see the back of his eye—it is not possible that the prisoners could have put this instrument into his eye to enable them to see the back instead of using the opthalmoscope—I know no instruments called "dilators," to bring the eye into such a position that the surgeon can see what is not ordinarily visible—there is an instrument which is used when you want to keep the eyelids apart; two pieces of wire with a spring—in atrophy of the optic nerve, you cannot restore the nerve, and I recollect no case where medicine has arrested the decay—I put an injection of strichnine into his arm, which is supposed to do good, but I cannot say that I have seen it; it has a powerful effect on the nervous system—there is not a medicine of Oriental herbs which would be useful, I practised a long time in India, and I never heard of it—they have a Pharmacopoeia of their own there—there is a sort of caste of Indian oculists, not hereditary medicine men, but father and son follow one another—their practice differs from ours; they would perform operations which I should consider to be wrong—I understand somewhat of Hindustanee—this book (produced) is a work on the eye—I have seen Russell now; he is totally blind.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. The profession of oculist is hereditary; it descends from father to son, but lam not sure that there would be hereditary manual dexterity; it may be so in trade—a man may have half a dozen children, and one of them may show a disposition to follow his father's profession, and the others not—there would be no more probability of heredity in the Indian race—where there is atrophy of the optic nerve other diseases of the eye may supervene, a superficial film might possibly grow over the cornea, but the mere fact of the atrophy would not affect it—I cannot read this document fluently. (Produced)—I am not familiar with this kind of document—I think this came from Bombay.
Re-examined. I have only seen Russell since, in the room as I passed, not to look at him—at the time I saw him I did not notice any film or growth over the cornea, nor do I notice any now, but I will look at him before I go.
By the COURT. I practised in India nineteen years as an ophthalmic surgeon—I was professor of surgery in a school in Calcutta—persons practising medicine and surgery have to pass examinations and go through very much the same course as in this country—apart from them there are persons such as Mr. Jervis has referred to, known as Hakkim, they
have no qualification—there is no penalty attaching, that I know of—I cannot say whether the business of a medicine man follows from father to son for many generations.
By MR. MATHEWS. I have now examined Russell's eyes—there is no film over the cornea, nor is there any alteration in it since I saw it in 1890, hut I have only examined it externally.
By MR. BALL. I do not say that there is no film in my judgment; I say it with absolute certainty.
By Heere Shah. The means used in the Calcutta Hospital are, to some extent, similar to the Indian modes—Russell's disease was simple atrophy—he is now blind from atrophy of the optic nerve; that is a specific disease—I did not notice whether anything had been removed from his eye by you.
GUSTAVUS PARTRIDGE . I am a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons—I practise at 55, Green Street, Park Lane, and am surgeon to the Royal Westminster Ophthalmic Hospital, and lecturer on ophthalmic surgery there—I have given special study to diseases of the eye, and have had considerable practice in dealing with those diseases—I saw the witness James Russell at the Westminster Ophthalmic Hospital in April this year—I examined his eyes—he was suffering from atrophy of the optic nerves of both eyes—he was practically blind—it was quite impossible that the disease could be cured; the only possible hope was that it might be arrested from absolute blindness—I have not heard described the so-called operation on Russell; I heard of some hooks being inserted. (The evidence of the treatment was read to the Witness)—that treatment could not be of the slightest use—the optic nerve is of considerable size, as large as a pencil—it proceeds from the posterior part of the eye to the brain, and forms a communication between the nerve and the brain; images formed by the eye are not communicated to the patient unless through the optic nerve—such an operation could have no beneficial effect upon the optic nerve; it could have no beneficial effect whatever—little Willie Turner was brought to the hospital on or about 10th April, 1890—I examined his eyes—he was suffering from destruction of the cornea in each eye, due to a previous attack of inflammation; it was a purulent inflammation from some sort of contagion; some matter must have got into the eye—he was then only seven months old—both the cornea were sloughing at the time I saw him; the sight must have been extremely bad—of course, in such a child, it was extremely difficult to test the sight; but the cornea, instead of being clear, was opaque, making it impossible to have little, if any sight—he was treated in the hospital under my advice and wire—he had some ointment given him, in the hope that some portion of the edges of the cornea, which had escaped, might recover its transparency; that was the whole of the treatment that was thought necessary, to be effective—it was necessary to watch the case, because the eyes might become painful and troublesome, And it might become necessary to remove one of the eyes, and there might be complications resulting from that—he was an out-patient—I cannot recollect how many times he came; it was some few times—he did not get any better—I thought it was a very bad case, that there was no prospect of his getting any useful sight, and I told the parents so—the operation described by the parents as performed by the Indians could have no good
effect whatever—such an operation could have no beneficial effect upon the eyes—the only means that could be devised would be cutting out a small piece of the cornea and placing in a transparent piece of cornea, and that has never been successful—the treatment I used was according to the English treatment.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I was not aware that there is a different style practised in India—the practice of surgery varies in different countries, therefore there must be alterations of treatment—there are many methods of operating in cataract which vary slightly, but all based on the same principles—I only know of the surgery carried on by qualified practitioners in different countries—I have no knowledge of unqualified persons having as much skill—I cannot say when I last saw Russell; I saw him in April, 1893, and at other times—there Vas no distinct, evidence of any operation being performed by the prisoners—I cannot say that it looked as though it had been hooked about—he was then suffering from atrophy of the optic nerve, and he was quite blind in consequence of it—in some cases we hope the progress of absolute blindness may be arrested—no local treatment can be of any good; no local treatment can roach the optic nerve—there was atrophy of the retina—no local treatment can touch that; it is absolute destruction—one might see a case where fibres have escaped destruction, and we could hope that those fibres might continue to carry on a certain amount of action—Russell had no other disease of the eye when I saw him—I would not be quite sure that I had not seen him. before April; I have seen him a good many times—I do not think he told me anything about the treatment he had at the hands of the Indians, I noticed no indications of any—I am not familiar with the drugs that the medicine men use in India—I am aware that there are other Pharmacopoeias—I saw little Turner when he was seven months old—I could not say how long he was under my care peration at any time—I do not think he would ever grow out of it; there was actual loss of tissue, actual destruction that could not be replaced—the margin of one of the cornea was not quite destroyed; one hoped that there might be a small part of the cornea remain transparent, then possibly an operation might remove part of the pupil, by cutting out a part of the eye and making a false pupil; that was the only hope; he was not suffering only from that; there were other complications.
By the COURT. I say if after some time I had found a portion of the cornea transparent, I might have performed an operation so as to create a false pupil, and so transmit impressions to the retina, and so through the optic nerve to the brain—that operation would have to be performed at the edge of the cornea opposite the most transparent portion.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. That would not be at all an experiment if there had been any portion at all of the cornea just at the edge unobstructed; that is what I should have thought it right to do—I am rather under the impression that I saw Russell before he went to the Indians, but I could not be certain—I do not remember that he complained of pain at the top of the head—ophthalmic atrophy we generally find painless—if the nerve is destroyed there is no pain.
Re-examined. In the case of the boy Turner the opacity is more dense
in the right eye than the left, but they are both totally opaque—I have examined him to-day—it was the right eye that was operated upon in his case; that would make the opacity the greater.
By the COURT. I have had described to me the operation said to have been performed on the boy—I think such an operation would be injurious—I don't think it would increase the opacity of the cornea—I do not attribute the increase of opacity to the operation on the right eye; I think that was always the worst eye—there was more opacity in that eye—the operation would certainly be injurious—when I first saw it, before the Indians had anything to do with it, it was very dense, manifestly so, and it has suffered since from bulging, owing to the weakness of the sear tissue, which is in place of the original cornea—that has caused it to give way from the pressure behind—the sear tissue is not the result of the operation; it is the result of the old inflammation.
HENRY WORTH DODD, F.R.C.S . I am assistant surgeon at the Royal Westminster Ophthalmic Hospital. I have made the eye a special subject of study—I believe on 10th April last I saw the little boy Turner at the hospital—at that time the right eye was totally blind, and the left eye very nearly so—the anterior part of the right eye was bulged forward considerably—the front of the eye in both cases was opaque, both cornaœ, the right more so than the left—it was the result of ophthalmia of the newly born, unatorum—it is a disease which usually appears about three days after birth—it is purulent in character, having been the result of contagion—I have heard the description of the operation on the boy on 2nd January by Heere Shah—I say it was useless, improper, and cruel; it could have done no good as the child then was, and under no circumstances; it would most likely produce evil results—I understand that the operation was done with a dirty knife, after having been attempted to be sharpened in the spittle of one of the prisoners—such an instrument would be very likely to convey septic contagion, leading to septic inflammation, and, practically, there would be no end to it, most serious results—the operator having been smoking at the time, I should say would probably rather add to the danger—I think a dirty pipe would most likely contain septic germs.
By the COURT. I should say it was not an operation which, under any circumstances I can conceive, would be performed by a man of capable skill—I should decidedly say he could not be competent to diagnose with skill the diseases of the human eye, and could not be possessed of knowledge and skill as an ophthalmic surgeon—such an operation could be of no use in Turner's case; no operation could possibly cure the right eye.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. When I saw the boy on 10th April the eye was perfectly quiet; it showed signs of past inflammation; there was a small superficial scar across the front of the right cornea—I saw no evil results from the use of the dirty penknife—the only operation, I thought, would be to remove the diseased part, the whole of the right eye, practically—that would not be in the hope of benefiting the left eye, but to relieve the internal pressure; the eye continues to bulge, which often leads to a very nasty condition—it would only be with that view; not with any view to cure—it might not have been bulged more before the Indians cut off a portion, it would be more likely to bulge—the boy could barely shut his lid over it—I think the removal of a portion would tend
to cause more bulging and more inflammation—when I saw it in April it was barely inflamed, the smallest chronic inflammation—I know the usual medicines in use throughout the civilised world—I have not seen any of the cones, I have heard of them—they have not been shown to me for the purpose of testing them—I would not undertake to analyze drugs; that is a special branch of the profession—I saw some of their forceps and hooks—I have said that some of them might be used.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. There was what I took to be a very small scar across the front of the cornea in Turner's case; that might be from a slight wound—I cannot say exactly what was removed—there was the presence of a very slight scar, showing that a portion had been removed—the wound had healed, cicatrised—if a piece of the conjunctiva had been taken off the front of the cornea, it might be clear, but not in the case of an inflamed eye like Turner's—when I saw the boy's eye at the Police-court, Richmond, it was in a state of very low chronic inflammation—the cornea is, as Mr. Critchett has termed it, "the window of the eye" in front of the pupil, the iris.
By the COURT. The conjunctiva is a sort of protecting coat of the eye; it runs superficially underneath the lid of the eyeball itself, becoming very thin over the front of the cornea, and it is the secreting membrane of the lubricating material, and the cause of tears; it secrets a fluid—its functions are protective and lubricative apart from that it does not assist the organ of vision.
By MR. BALL. The part covering the conjunctiva is an extremely thin membrane—if you get inflammation of the conjunctiva you would probably get some thickening of the tissue and less transparency; it would become more vascular if it became inflamed.
GEORGE ANDERSON CRITCHETT . I am a member as well as a F.R.C.S. of England, and Fellow of Edinburgh, and Senior Ophthalmic Surgeon at St. Mary's Hospital—I practice at 21, Harley Street—I have made the eyes a special subject of study, and for many years have had an extensive practice connected with the treatment of them—a large portion of the evidence in this case at Richmond has been read over to me, and I am familiar with the statements made by the different witnesses in the case there, and here; my actual knowledge is derived from what took place at the Police-court at Richmond. (It was admitted by Counsel that the evidence at Richmond was substantially the same as that given here.)—my attention has been called to the case of Sarah Ralph—she is suffering from iritis or disease of the iris of the eye, the colouring portion of the eye which forms the pupil—I speak of both eyes—the effect is not equal in both; it is a good deal worse in the right eye—I examined her about five weeks ago, about the middle of September—at that time her condition, in my opinion, was not curable as to either eye; that disease must have existed for some years—oh 5th July, 1892, I know that a so-called operation was said to have been performed on her right eye; the nature of that operation has been described to-day in my hearing ns a hooking up and snipping off a portion of the conjunctiva—such an operation could have no good effect on the disease of iritis—I consider the operation was so absolutely and entirely improper that I have to guard myself against any use of any exaggerating statement in regard to it; it was one from which evil results might have followed in this way, that it was quite possible
that an adhesion might have formed between the eyelid and the surface of the eye—I agree with Dr. Dodd that it was useless, improper, and cruel—as to the second operation on the same woman, on the 14th August last year, under no circumstances could that have been beneficial—of course there is a possibility (I don't say in this case, because I don't think it existed) of some tumour beneath the lid which would need removal, and in that case there would have been swelling and pain to indicate it—if there had been a tumour the operation might have been justifiable, simply for the removal of the tumour, but not in this case—I found nothing to warrant the existence of a tumour in the left eye—from the description given of what was forced out of the eye, in my opinion it was either a mass of fat from the cellular tissue, for the cut was merely superficial, and the woman was very thin, or the cut might have gone sufficiently deep to remove a portion of the lachrymal gland, which is the tear reservoir—the cellular tissue is the membrane in which the fat would be contained—I say that neither operation could have been of the slightest possible benefit—to diagnose the disease of iritis, a hand glass if used either with an oblique sun light or candle light would be useful; I should prefer to say artificial light, instead of candle-light, obliquely to convey the rays of light—in the early stage the thermoscope would be useful—that has been in general use among ophthalmic surgeons during the last twenty years—until about forty years ago there was no means of diagnosing deep-seated disease of the eye—the conjunctiva is transparent; if a piece of it is snipped off, it would wrinkle and become much less transparent; under the conjunctiva exists another tissue called the sub-conjunctiva tissue, that is far less transparent—the conjunctiva of a diseased eye might be more opaque, and probably would be if the eye had a disease which affected the conjunctiva; I mean in the case of the child who had the disease of the eye—if the eye had such a disease it would Income thicker and less transparent—the effect of the entire removal of the lachrymal gland would be to diminish the flow of tears, and the removal of a portion would have the same effect, that is the sealing of the gland—it would, not tend to diminish the sight, but if it induced dryness of the eyes that would cause absolute disease; vera thalma, a dry eye—I examined James Russell on the same day as I examined his wife—he was suffering from atrophy of both eyes—I have heard of the operation of December 29th, similar to the first operation; that was absolutely impossible to have any beneficial effect on the atrophy of the optic nerve, and it would deprive the man of a portion of his eye—the optic nerve is at the back of the eye, and cannot be communicated with or affected by any operation in front of the ball of the eye—Russell was suffering from pure atropy of the optic nerve and nothing else—a hand glass would be entirely useless to diagnose such a disease as atrophy of the optic nerve; the proper instrument would be the ophthalmoscope—I have one in my pocket. (Producing it)—it consists of a perforated mirror, and the operator can see in; in all cases of difficulty a surgeon would use it—prior to about forty years ago you could hardly obtain information except after death—these patients must have been treated by conjecture—this was very deep seated—in the case of iritis a mirror would be useful to assist the surgeon—the pupil of the eye is an absolute aperture formed in the eye, and we are able to send light through it; the iris consists of two
portions, one contracts and the other dilates with light and darkness. (Producing a diagram)—the optic nerve becomes perished from constitutional causes; deep seated and sometimes connected with the brain—in Russell's case, his eyes being subject to excessive heat, might possibly cause the disease; but there is something more probable, and that is a very severe sunstoke some years before, and a very severe fall on the back of his head—it is always the duty of a surgeon to inquire into the history of the patient to make a diagnosis.
JAMES RUSSELL (Re-examined). About nine years ago I had a fall on the back of my head, coming over Kew Bridge—I felt very hot, and a little giddy, and fell on the parapet of the bridge, and cannot tell you any more—it was summer, and I had been at work all night, and went for a walk to Brentford in the morning—they fetched a doctor, and I was taken in a cab to Richmond Hospital—they did not tell me what was the matter with me"—I was three weeks in the hospital.
Cross-examined by MR. SMITH. I did not tell that to the Indians when I went there—it was about ten a.m. when I had the sunstroke—I had been at work all night—I told that to Mr. Critchett at Richmond—that was the first time I saw him.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I did not tell Dr. Partridge at the hospital about the sunstroke, but I believe I told Mr. McNamara.
G. A. CRITCHETT (Re-examined). That is what I say, in combination with the fall—even supposing all that, had been told to the Indians, they would not have been able to discover the atrophy of the optic nerve without the use of the ophthalmoscope—I remember the operation as described—it is quite possible that by September this year the outward skin could so completely have grown afresh that there would be no scar from the cut—that would apply to it if the conjunctiva and sub-conjunctiva had been cut away, if only a small portion of each had been removed—a man working in the gasworks in a great heat, and going out into the sunshine, would tend to congestion of the cerebral parts; and we must remember also that he was very fatigued, and instead of sleeping after his work, he went for a walk—I examined Evelyn Parsons the same day at Richmond—she was suffering from disease of the cornea and iris of the right eye; the left had been removed—the operation performed on her on 9th September was similar to those previously dealt with, and could not, in my opinion, having regard to her disease, have been beneficial in any sense—it was harmful in that it removed a portion of her eye which, in my opinion, it was quite unnecessary to remove, and therefore deprived her of something which was her lawful possession—it did away with the connection of the eyelid to the eye—I think it is unjustifiable to deprive a person of any portion of the human frame without due reason—it is quite possible that such a proceeding might have led to adhesion between the inner surface of the eyelid and the outer surface of the eye.
EVELYN PARSONS (Re-examined). Before I went to the Indians I could just distinguish light from darkness—they treated me with medicines for the eye, and then I could distinguish bright colours; then came the operation, and after that I could not see colours at all.
G. A. CRITCHETT (Further examined). The operation would be extremely relative to that deterioration; such an operation would necessarily lead to a localised, temporary inflammation—improvement in bodily health
would undoubtedly be likely to improve, to the extent she says, the vision of a person in her condition—when she says that her sight improved so much that she could see colours, improvement in bodily health would account for that—the seeing colours might be due to improvement in bodlily health—I think it is quite natural that such a case after a time should deteriorate, especially if she fell into delicate health—unless there were some falling back into a delicate condition of health, there would be nothing in the history of the case to account for the deterioration, except the very guarded opinion I gave regarding the possible effect of the operation—the shock to the system caused by the operation would be quite likely to affect the bodily health—I saw Willie Turner the same day in September—I came to the conclusion that he was suffering from the results of ophthalmia of the newly born, purulent ophthalmia—the operation performed on him of drawing a needle with cotton through the eyeball, and leaving the ends of the cotton hanging down outside the eye, and sawing off a piece of the conjunctiva with a knife, could have had no beneficial effect on the child—it was, in my opinion, an extremely improper operation—it must have inflicted considerable pain—it was not an operation which anyone capable of diagnosing the disease of purulent ophthalmia would have resorted to for the purpose of curing him—at the time I saw him there was no hope for him with regard to the right eye—it is impossible that the condition of that eye could have been hopeful in June or July, 1892—it would require no ophthalmoscope for a competent person to diagnose that disease, it would not even require a magnifying glass; it would be entirely patent to any skilled eye brought to bear on it—I describe the operation as useless, improper, and cruel—there was just a ray of hope with regard to the left eye, that in time Nature might work a slight amelioration, which might be aided by operative treatment; that would be some years hence, probably—the right eye was in a hopeless condition; it was a distorted, enormously enlarged globe—the swelling of the eye had been a gradual process, through years, but the cornea had been lost, I think, during two or three months after birth—at the time I saw the four patients, Ralph, Parsons, Russell, and Turner, there was no film or growth on the outer surface of the eyes of any of them, and nothing to indicate that any such film or growth had previously existed—I examined Eliza Gillingham on the same day—she was suffering from a secondary cataract, a cataract which had come on secondary to other disease; it was consequent on, or I will say in association with, a deeper disease, because it is possible that the cataracts were congenital—the disease was seated in the retina and coroid at the back of the eye—cataract is the lens in a state of opacity; it is quite possible that any one of us might possess a cataract, because we all possess lenses; when the lens is clear we call it a lens, and when it becomes opaque we call it a cataract—cataract is Nature's lens rendered dull and opaque through disease—you may remove it and supply its place artificially by means of glasses if the nerve at the back is a healthy one—when cataract is formed the gelatinous substance at the back of the lens is changed into a more or less fibrous substance, and rendered opaque—the disease of the coroid and retina was inflammatory originally—the ophthalmoscope would undoubtedly be necessary for the purpose of diagnosing that disease; a magnifying glass would be useless
—it would depend on the nature of a cataract whether an ophthalmoscope would be necessary—there are infinite varieties of cataracts; some could be detected with the eye, some with a magnifying glass, and some would require an ophthalmiscope—Gillingham's cataract would be discoverable to the eye of anyone without anything—if the optic nerve and the retina are complete there is always the power of perceiving shadows, and that is the only power—the incision of the left upper eyelid with a penknife would be absolutely useless as a curative or remediary treatment for either of the diseases I have described—it would be useless for a remedy and useless for a deep-seated old inflammation—it is an operation which would cause considerable pain, and would do nothing except to cause a little blood to escape, a cruel method of taking blood—the cutting of the temples with a view to subsequent blistering is both useless and cruel, and would have no effect except giving pain—in cutting the eyelid, if the instrument passed very deeply, certain filaments of nerves might have been wounded which would have produced a sensation as' if the eye was coming out subsequently—the sensations which a patient feels are so various and multiple that suggestions would have to be very wide, and possibly rather indefinite as to any other cause for the change she speaks of—assuming that she describes correctly what she has felt since the operation, it is possible that if a change had taken place in the tension of the globe that would have some influence—when I saw Mary Ann Bockett, I found traces of commencing cataract, slightly, in both eyes; they consisted of a few strise round the outside of the eyes, but they did not affect the centre of her vision—in the right eye, I found traces of old trouble in the coroid; it had commenced by inflammation; when I saw it all the inflammation had long since died away—the trouble had been of an inflammatory kind—when supplied with suitable glasses the sight of the right eye came within about 30 deg. of the normal standard; with suitable glasses the sight of the left eye came up to the normal standard, such as is taken for Army and Navy candidates, the standard of youthful sight—the operation performed on her of cutting the temples and subsequent blistering could have no beneficial effect on the cataract in either eye—if at that time the coroid trouble was still active, blistering might have been of some slight service for the right eye, but I should strongly deprecate the incisions in the temple, and especially at the seat of the blistering—it would be impossible for any person skilled or unskilled to diagnose the inflammatory condition without an ophthalmoscope; it was in the deepest recesses of the eye, in the very centre, at the back—my opinion was when I examined her that the coroid trouble had probably existed for two or three years at least, probably longer—I should not like to give a definite opinion as to whether it was present in March this year; it was not present when I examined the eye—Mary Perry was suffering in her left eye from iritis, and opacity both of the lens and its capsule; the pupil was adherent to the anterior surface of the lens—she could just tell the difference between light and darkness, but could not localise the flame of a candle when I held it in different positions before her—the right eye has normal vision; of course, as a woman of 56 years she needs glasses for reading—in my opinion the cutting of the temple in her case was quite useless—the commencing cataract in Mrs. Beckett's case could have been seen undoubtedly by a skilled eye with the use of
the ophthalmoscope, not without it—it is possible it might have been seen without it had atrophine, or something to enormously dilate the pupil of the eye, been used; if so enormously dilated, it is possible that two or three of these little striæ might have been seen—it would not only be necessary to use atrophine, but to put a light down, so that the light was sent through it—it was difficult for me to see it, even with the ophthalmoscope—the only remedy Mrs. Bockett needed, in my opinion, was suitable glasses—Mary Perry's left eye, in my opinion, was absolutely beyond all remedy—she needed glasses for the right eye for reading, and that was all that could be done for her—her left eye was too soft, showing that serious degeneration had taken place in the eye—I cannot say whether glasses were known to the Eastern races before Europeans entered their country, but they have known of them since Europeans settled there—they have been taken over by English and French settlers, I should think—it requires considerable skill to work out the kind of glasses a person needs, or they may do more harm than good—the best opticians supply glasses on the prescription of a scientific man—I examined Henry Allison—he is suffering from glaucoma in the right eye; the first part of the name means blue or green, and was applied to the disease because the waters of the eye became extremely dull and muddy, and looked like the water of a stagnant pool; the eye, instead of being elastic to the touch, is as hard as this piece of wood, and all sight has left it—in its early stages acute glaucoma is curable—Allison has lost all sight—given that his eye was otherwise healthy in October, 1892, all he could have had was the perception of shadows from the cataract he had—the whole structure of the eye is affected by glaucoma in its later stages, and that is the present condition of his eye—that condition has existed for some months, not more; the disease has reduced the eye into its present condition since October, 1892—I believe that when he consulted the Indians in 1892 he was suffering from cataract in that eye, and that the procedure that was followed was the depression of the cataract into the lower portion of the eye by pushing the cataract forcibly downwards with a needle, so that, instead of lying vertically, it laid obliquely in the lower part of the eye—I can now see the cataract down there, and, with certain movements, it bobs up and down; the edges of the lens are clearly discernible—the lens could not have got where I saw it without a very severe blow—I should expect a man sightless up to the performance of such an operation to immediately afterwards be able to see more clearly, as the pushing down of the cataract would in a moment free the pupil of the eye, and whereas before nothing but bare rays of light could pass through the cataract when it was pushed down or extracted, light would pass through the pupil on to the retina, and then the man, although he saw very confusedly, would be able to count fingers—that operation is known as couching—it was because the old sightless condition of the eye often returned that the operation was discontinued; it frequently produced traumatic glaucoma—couching is an old and disused operation; it was disused because it was found that traumatic glaucoma so frequently supervened—I think it supervened in Allison's case; had the glaucoma existed before the operation in any degree, the man would not have been able to count the fingers immediately after the depression of the lens—it
is in the natural condition of things that the eye should have been very painful as soon as the glaucoma supervened; the pain of glaucoma is as intense as any that is suffered—I should say that couching had been practically abandoned for fifty years; there have been instances since—the operation appears in books as a relic of the past, or rather as a thing to warn people against—it was not a common operation fifty years ago; the operation of extraction had been discovered long before that—assuming glaucoma to exist in the right eye it might have a sympathetic effect on the left eye in the sense of causing pain—a continued pain in the right eye might produce such continual depression As to render the second eye more subject to glaucoma; that is a point a little more in dispute; personally I do not think that glaucoma causes directly sympathetic inflammation in the other eye, certainly not destructive glaucoma—it might certainly have the effect of causing pain in the other eye—if Allison continues to suffer pain there will be no resource but to remove the right sightless eye—the testimonial given by Allison would give a correct description of what was done, only it ought not to have been done—the ordinary mode of removing cataract is to make an incision through the cornea, or window of the eye, and pass through a very narrow and extremely sharp knife, and with great care cut up in the wide arc of a circle; some surgeons remove a portion of the iris, but all release the capsule by making a gentle pressure on the skin of the eye; the cataract is resting on what is almost a fluid and the cataract is coaxed to bring its edge opposite the incision and then it gradually glides out, leaving the pupil clear and transparent—if the wound in the cornea heals, as in a large proportion of cases it does, then the patient can see perfectly well by placing the lens in front of the eye in the shape of a rather large pair of spectacles—we succeed in that operation in more than 90 per cent of our cases—if it had been performed on Allison, the odds would have been 90 per cent, in his favour of being successfully treated—if nothing had been done to him, and he had remained with the cataract in his right eye to-day, I should say he would not have had glaucoma; but, of course, this is not the only thing that produces glaucoma—cataracts sometimes progress with great rapidity, and sometimes remain stationary for years—in this case the cataract was complete, and it could have remained, and the operation could have been performed ten years afterwards—I should always strongly urge a person who possessed normal sight of one eye not to have an operation for cataract performed on the other—I should give an old man like Allison glasses; a young man would not need them; they would not help an eye with cataract—that is the generally recognised treatment of the large marjority of my profession, I should say—I think that snuff of ordinary quality or character would not only have no remedial effect on any of these diseases, but in some cases it would probably have a very damaging effect; if anyone was suffering from congested blood vessels in the retina at the back of the eye, the sneezing that might be induced would lead to possible rupture of some of those vessels; in fact, some cases have occurred in my own practice where the sight has been damaged by it—I mean any snuff that would produce a more or less violent sneezing, including powdered tobacco—zinc oxide is contained in the ordinary zinc ointment of the Pharmacopoeia—when I have applied any of that ointment to my hands, and
some of it has got into my eye, it has caused smarting; but it does not do any permanent damage, nor do I believe it would—I cannot suggest any effect it would have beyond smarting; it is a mild astringent, and an astringent of which, with reference to eye troubles, I have had no personal experience—I cannot assume it to be effective in any of these grave cases—the only solitary case in which I can conceive it would be usefully employed would be one of prurulent ophthalmia in an active condition, as all astringents are good for that—at the time I saw the little boy the prurulent ophthalmia was not in an active condition; it had been in an inactive condition for upwards of three years, I believe—I should think the result of introducing into the eye a paste with zinc oxide as one of its principal ingredients, twice a day for nineteen weeks, would be extremely irritating, and that it would have no other effect—it would lie irritating in a more or less degree, as it was used for a longer or shorter time—with reference to this extract from La Petite Marseilles of November 29th, about the incision made in each temple, I say that is absolutely outside my large experience; and, as to the latter part of the extract, I say that the Indians seem in that case to have followed the same proceeding as in Allison's case: depressed the lens, with the result that the man was for a time able to see with comparative clearness—glaucoma follows that operation in a very large number of cases, and another disadvantage is that the cataract, although depressed, may come up again; there are cases where a sudden jump has brought the cataract up, and the patient in a moment is as blind as before—medical congresses are held attended by qualified surgeons from India; there is one in England at the present time—Indians and English foregather from time to time in order to see what progress has been made in the science we follow—a man who left the hospitals twenty years ago would probably not know much about ophthalmic surgery—it is only in recent years that surgeons have learnt it at the hospitals—the conjunctiva might have been drawn up with these hooks, or with many other things—they are steel—they are not such books as we use—I should not use them—I use a fine pair of forceps—I find here two pairs of forceps, one of extremely common make, and the other finer; I should see no objection to use the finer ones, the others are extremely clumsy, and in my opinion would be quite useless, and ought not to be put near an eye—I find several probes, one of them might be used in skilled hands for dilating the tear duct; these others are, in my opinion, worse than useless, because they are very large, and not graduated, and the introduction of them would be attended with very great harm; the first one is graduated—there is a three-sided needle of rather curious make, and of a reddish colour, which might be from rust, or a medicine; I know no proper use for it, but possibly it might be used for pushing a cataract down—these are two lancets, one undoubtedly of Oriental make and shape; the other might be used for vaccination or opening a vein, if it were clean and sharp; they happen to be blunt, rusty, and dirty—I saw them at the Police-court early in September; they were in the same condition then, and in that condition are quite unfit for use in or upon the eye—these are two hand magnifying glasses; the sole use of those would be to magnify any object on the outer surface of the eye, and detect whether any foreign body were there or not; or, used obliquely, to transmit rays of light a little more deeply into the eye, but not to the
back of the eye—these scissors are not surgical instruments in my opinion; they are very large and very clumsy—the majority of these instruments were made in the East, I should say—these two knives handed to me, with large blades, are the ordinary knives of commerce, the knives of schoolboys; certainly not such knives as should be used for cutting off a piece of conjunctiva—assuming these operations to have been performed, and assuming the condition of the patients to have been as they have described them and as I found them, I unhesitatingly say that they were operations which, under those conditions, would not have been performed by persona of competent knowledge and competent skill.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I have never been called as an expert witness with the intention of contradicting the evidence of other gentlemen of my profession—I have given evidence which has been in some degree dissented from by other qualified practitioners—my evidence today is my opinion, except where I have spoken to questions of undoubted fact—it is a fact that Allison has glaucoma, not an opinion—I believe that I am one of many vice-presidents of the London and County Medical Protection Society, but I only know that on hearsay—I never attended a meeting of the society, and know nothing about it—I am not influenced in the smallest degree by the fact of being so connected with the society in giving my evidence to-day—I am not one of the persons who put the prosecution in motion; I did not know of it till two days before I was called to Richmond—I don't think I signed the articles of association or anything—I don't know what this snuff is, whether it is tobacco or not; it is only a fine, and, I should think, rather an irritant powder—my only objection to snuff is that it may produce a violent sneeze—it is not usual in some diseases of the eye or brain to take powder through the nose—I have known snuff, or some powder, prescribed for a very violent cold, and hay-fever sometimes—the sole possible use of zinc oxide is that it is a mild astringent, and it is used in the form of an ointment to put on a sore place—if a person suffered from eczema, which extended to the eyelids, zinc ointment would be a proper thing to apply—as far as the zinc oxide is concerned, I would not say that it was altogether necessarily an. improper substance to put into the eye in the form of a paste; I have not heard of the other ingredients—inflammation of the eye might be relieved by letting blood from the temples, but that might be done in a far less cruel manner, and more successfully—under no circumstances do I think the scarification of the skin is justifiable, because you can obtain your end by other means—bleeding by leeches might relieve the inflammation—I should employ leeches—you would get a certain amount of blood by cutting the temples, but much less, and the prisoners used it in conjunction with blistering—in a country like India, where leeches might be difficult to obtain, getting blood by lancet would do instead, I think—in former years bleeding was used for almost everything—as a rule a vein was opened in the arm—I saw the patients at Richmond, but I have not seen them as a professional man till I was called into this case—the little boy had a scar on his eye; not an absolute scar, it was a little thing—I saw the same thing in the man Russell—six months would be quite enough for obliterating nearly all traces of so dreadful an operation if there were not adhesions—in Mrs. Ralph's case the lachrymal gland could be taken away through the eyelids, and no trace of it remain
to-day—of course, if a tumour was removed, there might be no trace of it, but it might be only fat and cellular tissue—I was told that a mass the size of a filbert was removed, and I have given two or three things which it might have been—the ophthalmoscope is known in India and to the natives—ten or twelve years ago the majority of ordinary practitioners would have no knowledge of the ophthalmoscope—Hawkins had cataract in his right eye; they had done nothing to the left, but if they had had proper knowledge that could have been brought up to the proper standard—their treatment may have been that pursued by surgeons forty years ago—the lens might get up again to its old place, and a second operation could be performed to repress it—in the majority of cases traumatic glaucoma intervenes—I say that in these eight cases these men have made mistakes, have been wrong—in cataract cases, ten per cent, of the cases fail—we have not the same statistics in other operations, but even in cataract cases you must not take it that 10 in 100 fail, we sometimes have succeeded in 97 or 98—there is a form of cataract known as diabetic cataract, and an ophthalmic surgeon would not allow his patient to go through it because the odds are as much against it as in favour—the strides in ophthalmic science have been very great in the last thirty years.
Cross-examined by MR. BALL. I use forceps to take hold of the conjunctiva but not to raise it—I should not attempt to remove any film or growth on the conjunctiva by medicine; if there was a growth I should remove it, but you used the word film which I object to—by a growth I mean there may be a little tumour—that growth might not spread over the whole eye—there is one disease of the eye named pannus, blood vessels spreading over the cornea, that is the only growth I know apart from tumour—pterygium is a tumour of the conjunctiva and that might spread unless arrested towards the pupil—it stops here. (Pointing to the diagram)—it is the outer covering of the eye, so that you have two mucous surfaces together—pannus is not under the conjunctiva, it runs from the conjunctiva over the cornea—there is also something called a diptheritic membrane—it usually appears on the conjunctiva under the upper lid, but it often comes on the other as well—it might appear without diptheria in association with blood poisoning—films of the kind I have mentioned may occur in addition to other diseases, and the removal or diminution of them would be a proper object of ophthalmic surgery—the removal of a diptheritic patch would be more noticeable five or six months afterwards than if you took out a piece of healthy conjunctiva—I think you would trace the removal of pterygium for six months and pannus much longer—Mrs. Ralph's disease was iritis—pure iritis would not cause any film over the eye, but I wish to distinguish between that and a growth over the cornea—pannus is over the surface of the eye, and if it were associated with any other disease there might be a film in the substance of the cornea—if patches had been removed from the conjunctiva very little would appear after six months—Miss Parsons suffered from old cornea iritis, probably with deeper trouble at the back as well—the answer I gave on Mrs. Ralph would apply to any living individual—without the ophthalmoscope power of observation would depend upon a person's sight—anyone accustomed to the use of the magnifying glass would be able to detect a slight speck—Dr. Mackenzie, of Glasgow, is a man of great experience,
and by accumulating his knowledge of a large branch of cases, he has come to recognise certain conditions which enable him to arrive at an approximate opinion—I single out Dr. Mackenzie, of Glasgow, as one man whose very great experience enabled him, taking a large class of similar cases, to arrive at an approximate diagnosis of atrophy of the optic nerve, before the introduction of the ophthalmoscope—he did it without examining the eye at all; he had no means of examining it—he would not use a magnifying glass, you cannot use that for examining the deeper parts of the eye—it seems to me it must have been a species of individual instinct with him, aided, of course, by large and wide powers of observation—he had very acute sight, but the most acute sight in the world is no use for examining the deep-seated structures of the eye—by his large experience he arrived at an approximate conclusion; he was feeling his way to the truth—leeching is still practised in a modified degree—blistering is still practised in cases of inflammation—if deep-seated inflammation were in an active condition at the time blistering was the right treatment—it would confirm my opinion that blistering did good, if she was sure her sight had improved afterwards—I do not think a blister would rise so well over an excoriated surface; my objection to the cutting or scratching of the temples is that it would cause pain, without doing any commensurate good—lancing is an old-fashioned form of bleeding—under some circumstances it would be possible by the aid of medicine to bring the eye of a person who could only distinguish light from darkness to be able to distinguish colours; it would depend on the nature of the disease—I said at the Police-court, "It is not improbable that unskilled oculists could have produced that beneficial change," but I qualified it at the time; I think I said it was quite possible that her eye had improved while she was under their treatment, but I did not think it was their treatment which had produced the improvement; I think that is on the depositions—I will not be so ungenerous as to say that it was impossible for her to improve under their treatment—if an improvement of that kind took place, it might be due to suitable medical treatment, and to the blister—if the entire lachrymal gland had been removed in Mrs. Ralph's case, it would have been about the size of a filbert—there would have been very few tears to that eye if the entire gland had been removed,. I have never suggested that the entire gland was removed—if half the gland had been removed, I do not think there would have been severe irritation caused by the lack of tears; I think the eye can get on very nearly as well with half its gland as with the whole—the function of tears is not only to cry, but to lubricate the eye with its secretion; and the want of that, by removing all the gland, means very serious irritation—if part were removed, the rest would have more work—I only once removed a lachrymal gland, and that was in a case of lupus, at the request of a physician who practised skin diseases, in order to arrest the ceaseless, flow of tears over the sore spot—it is an operation very seldom practiced—a tumour of the size of a small nut might grow at the back of the eye in the orbit; we have tumours there—the further back it was placed, the less outward show there would be—I doubt whether it would be possible for a tumour to be there without being very noticeable, because it usually
spreads in each direction—it would not be justifiable to remove any tumour unless its presence were so appreciable to sight and touch that there was no doubt about its existence—I do not think it could be appreciable to touch without being seen; it might be appreciable to touch and not very visible, but, if it were appreciable to touch, it would be visible to a certain extent—I prefer the term ophthalmic surgeon as applied to myself I gave the opinion that anyone might call himself an oculist; I had no right to do so, but I believed I was right, having regard to the anomalous state of the English law at present—anyone has not the right to call himself an ophthalmic surgeon—as a matter of personal opinion I do not think a general practitioner, who is not an ophthalmic surgeon, should operate upon the eye except in cases of extreme emergency—I do not find him generally very ready to do so, even in country districts—I have a large experience of country towns; there is hardly a town of any size in England that does not possess an ophthalmic surgeon of special experience—I have known cases of wrong diagnosis among ophthalmic surgeons, cases that have subsequently come to me—I mean cases of patients said by medical men to be suffering from one disease of the eye, when I came to the conclusion they were suffering from another—I don't remember any case where an operation had been performed by a general practitioner before the patient came to me—I have known of cases where an operation has been performed by some not very experienced ophthalmic surgeon, which in my judgment was not the best operation to have selected—during the last few years our operations have been performed under the influence of cocaine, a local anæsthetic that deprives the eye of sensation for a time—that is used among local ophthalmic surgeons; it has been universally practised during the last seven years; prior to that chloroform was used in the majority of cases, not in some of the least painful operations—if an anæsthetic was not used ophthalmic operations would be painful—in cases of heart disease and so on you cannot use chloroform, but a case that could not take chloroform could probably take ether; we rarely meet with a case that cannot take an anæsthetic—there must be suffering; the eye is almost, if not quite, the most sensitive portion of the human frame.
Re-examined. It therefore requires greater delicacy in dealing with it—I heard Mrs. Ralph say she suffered no pain from the first operation; I formed the conclusion that probably the piece of wadding, she said was placed on the eye, contained cocaine—I noticed the other patients described the operations as painful, from which I concluded that cocaine was not employed in those cases—tumour of a cancerous nature would be painful; a large number of tumours are painful, especially those that haunt the orbit; they are usually malignant, what we call sarcoma,—I emphatically disbelieve Mrs. Ralph had a tumour, and I have given my reason why I think her eye was subsequently painful—in the ordinary history of tumour I should not expect the pain to commence and continue after the removal of the tumour—I did not find in any of the persons examined any indication of pannus, pterygium, or diptheretic membrane—indications of the operations on the conjunctiva in Turner's and Russell's cases are dimly discernible, but I can see them—in none of the cases I have examined do I see the slightest indication that there was a growth
over the eye—in the cases of Turner and Evelyn Parsons there still exists the film on the surface of the cornea, and it is in the surface of the cornea itself, incorporated in it and not over it; it has not been removed, or attempted to be removed—no human agency could remove it.
EDWARD NETTLESHIP , F.R.C.S. I live at 5, Wimpole Street, Cavendish Square—I have given very considerable study to the eye and to its treatment—I am ophthalmic surgeon to St. Thomas's Hospital, and to Moorfields Ophthalmic Hospital—Sarah Ralph attended with tolerable regularity, about once a month, perhaps, at St. Thomas's as an outpatient, from October, 1889, to November, 1890—she was suffering from chronic iritis in both eyes, which was, as I thought, probably complicated by a disease of the deeper part of the eye—it had been in existence about two years, I thought—I think when she left off attending her eyes were about in the same state; it was an unfavourable case; she was practically no better; no measurable progress was made—she was not discharged, but she did not continue to come—I have heard of the operations performed on her on 5th July and 14th August, 1892—I should say that each operation was absolutely useless, and therefore quite unjustifiable—I have not seen her since—I heard Mr. Critchett's evidence, and in general terms I quite agree to what he has said in regard to all these cases.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. That is my opinion—in my scientific opinion the Indians were wrong in their operations.
Re-examined. They were quite unjustifiable—the operations on Ralph and on all the other patients I have heard of were unjustifiable and useless, and operations that could in no known disease of the eye do any good, and that would not be performed by any competent surgeon of knowledge and skill.
JOHN BOWERING LAWFORD, F.R.C.S . I am assistant surgeon to the Royal London Ophthalmic Hospital, at Moorfields, and at St. Thomas's—I have made the structure and diseases of the eye a special study—I saw Eliza Gillingham about the end of August this year, and examined her eyes—she was suffering from a form of cataract and deep disease of the eye, situated in the cornea and retina; the technical term for it is corodo retinitis—in my opinion it was of long standing—I heard what the Indians did to her described at the Police-court, and she described it to me herself; that the left upper eyelid was cut open, and blood made to flow—I should say that operation was improper and useless, and could by no means be expected to do any good to the disease from which she was suffering—I can see no reason for its performance—I advised her at the end of August to have no further treatment, as I did not think it would be of avail—I have heard Mr. Critchett's evidence, and I entirely agree with the diagnosis he made of Gillingham's case.
T. BRITTEN ARCHER, M.R.C.S . I practise at 29, Nottingham Place, as an oculist—on 5th January, this year, I examined Mary Ann Bockett—she suffered in the right eye from Central coriditis, and a certain amount of what is called old sight, which glasses would improve—in the left eye she had almost normal vision with glasses, not without—she had a slight indication of striæ in the lens at the periphery, which Mr. Critchett most Accurately described—I prescribed certain glasses for her, and with them
her sight was very much improved—that, in my opinion, was the proper treatment of her ease—I heard Mr. Critchett's opinion upon cutting the temples and subsequent blistering; I agree with his opinion, and also with the other general conclusions at which he arrived.
MR. MATHEWS put in the "Medical Register" for 1893, as evidence that Kreum Bocesh was not a registered medical man.
JOHN JAMES WOODROFF . I trade as Stoneman and Co., printers, of 138, High Street, Wandsworth—the prisoners have each been to my premises as customers, and under their directions I printed something under 100,000 of these handbills in assorted colours—Heere Shah always gave the orders, because he can speak English—I understood him perfectly—the first order was in June, 1892, for 50,000—after I had set up the type I sent it down, and the tall one came with his brother and made some suggestions, or found some fault—two or three months afterwards a second order was given for 50,000—this (Exhibit J.) is a copy—it is one of the altered ones to the different address—I find on the back of it "4,000 for Aldershot, 30,000 for Forest Hill, 3,000 for Wandsworth, 30,000 for Kilburn"—I believe that is the landlady's writing—there is a note at the bottom, "The copy is all right; of course, Mr. Karim Bahksh does not want the same heading as Aldershot, as that is only once a week attendance"—it says that Bahksh can be consulted every Wednesday between two and four—I executed the order in that way—K is not in the same writing; it is not a handbill, only a piece of paper, "Verandah House, The Green, Richmond,—Sir,—Please to print 15,000 of this address"—I executed that, and they were distributed in the streets by men in Indian costume as fast as I could get them done; they came and took them by handfulls, and gave them to everyone they met.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I returned the manuscript I printed from; that is our general plan—I do not think this testimonial, signed "Charles Ralph," has ever been in my office, because I look for printer's, thumb-marks, which are generally not very clean—I believe the whole of the manuscripts I received were in the landlady's writing—I do not think the originals ever came—my account was duly paid—here is the receipt for the last lot in October.
Re-examined. Apart from the thumb-marks, I should fix no initial on them as having received them, and I find no marks—the testimonial has never been used to set up type from, and I feel certain it has never been in my office.
HUGH WOOD , M.D. I am a Fellow of the Chemical Society, and practise at 11, Archway Road, High gate—I produced the "Medical Register" for 1893 yesterday—in September I received two cones from the Magistrates of Richmond—they had been produced in the proceedings—I examined them microscopically—they were brown, and had the lichenous appearance of bark; the other side is smooth—I tested them merely for organic matter, for vegetable alkali, and the results were similar to what are obtained from ipecacuana, but there are several other vegetable alkaloids which produce the same effect—since my examination I have made a further test for mineral matters, and found that the cones contain a considerable amount of zinc oxide, but no other mineral substance—I
made a paste from some of this substance and put it into my own eyes; it had no effect on the pupil, either dilating or contracting, but it slightly irritated it, making it bloodshot for an hour or two, and slightly painful; it then all passed away—I received some pills from Mr. Wood's clerk, and examined them microscopically and otherwise; they were a sugary confection, containing the rind of oranges or lemons, and some fruit, like prunes in colour—there were no alkaline or mineral substances in them—I took one, and it did not affect my eyes at all, or any portion of my body—I also received this snuff (produced) from the solicitor's clerk, and found it was powdered tobacco; it had a slight scent—I tested it for minerals and for organic alkaloids, and found none other than the active principle of nicotine—I took some of it; it caused me to sneeze several times, but it had no effect on my eyes—I did not go on taking it for several weeks—in my opinion, the snuff could produce no effect on a person suffering from optic disease—these pills would have absolutely no effect on Mr. Russell's eyes, or on his general bodily health; they are slightly aromatic, and might have some effect in removing flatulency.
By the COURT. I only took one—a patient is often prescribed a course of pills for a month, where one would have no effect, but however few or many of them were taken for a considerable time, they would have no effect, because there is nothing in them containing any active principle.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. The cones were given to me at the very last part of the case, and I gave my evidence when I had not had time to make anything but a very short examination; I have corrected it—it was not necessary to give them to the Public Analyst, and you objected on the ground of expense—they were ordered to be put in a sealed box, which is still in Sergeant Hawkins' possession—I am one of the two secretaries of the London and County Medical Protection Society, and the prosecuting solicitor is my brother—our society prosecuted two or three of the Indians who lived two or three miles from me, under the Medical Act, for calling themselves "Doctor"; not these men, but three of the same troop—there were three hearings before Mr. Cooke at Marlborough Street Police-court—it was offered that if we would withdraw from the prosecution, they would drop the title of "Doctor" on their handbills and otherwise; but we would not accept it, because I had personally warned them—we never applied for costs—the Magistrate said they were in ignorance of the law of the land; I must explain that it has to be wilfully done—I said as to the cones that I could not find any active vegetable principle but that of ipecacuanha; you drew that out at Richmond—I have had much experience in analysis—I am a general practitioner—I took a long course in analysis at college, and took the medal—I have pursued it since—I was not asked before the Magistrate to analyse the pills—I obtained some of the pills before that from a young lady who had to do with blind people, but had not analysed them when I was before the Magistrate; I have done so since—it does not look like zinc oxide, it is mixed with some vegetable matter, I cannot say what—there are drugs which nobody in the world could detect, but we can detect the active principle—I will not swear there is imitine in this, but it gives a similar reaction—that is the active principle of ipecacuanha—when I put it into my eye it did not contract the pupil, but the conjunctiva was slightly reddened—irritation would come from anything,
even the dust in the street—I cannot be positive what fruit was in the pills; it was not a very useful substance, or I should have detected something; there should be something in it with some appreciable effect—by testing one pill I could find all the important ingredients it contained—doctors sometimes put in some other substance to make the paste, they never use anything without an object—I am going to ask the Jury to believe that that snuff is pure tobacco—this brown mixture (produced) is totally different, it is not tobacco—I will swear I am not mistaken about the composition of the other, I am sure it is snuff—I have received a training in ophthalmic surgery, but do not practise it.
Re-examined. I received the pills at Richmond from Mr. Wood's clerk and two cones from the Magistrate in open Court—the pills I received from the lady are those I analysed, and gave the result of to-day—I did not receive any other pills subsequently.
By the COURT. I did not get any pills from the Magistrate, only the cones—I got the pills from my brother's clerk—they were the pills given to Russell—I got the pills from the young lady in the early part of this year—I did not test them; the pills I had were taken possession of by the Court, and very likely they came back to me—the tests I applied to the cones at the time I gave evidence before the Magistrate did not show the presence of zinc oxide; I had to employ other tests—this powder handed in to-day is quite different from the snuff which I analysed, and is apparently not tobacco; it is some powdered vegetable matter, it is shreddy.
By the COURT. It would take a considerable time to analyse it; I can get a general idea of it by to-morrow morning—I cannot apply the tests.
WALTER THOMAS GROVE WOOD . I am the solicitor to the prosecution—Dr. Wood is my brother—Mr. Jervis objected to his examination at the police-court, that he was an interested party—it was then suggested, I think, by Mr. Jervis, that the public analyst should be employed—the cones, pills, and other things were then sealed up by order of the Court in a package, and handed to Sergeant Hawkins—some difficulty arose about getting the analysis from the public analyst before the next hearing, and at the subsequent meeting I objected to paying the fee of the county analyst—the Magistrate made the condition that we should pay for it, but ultimately he consented that we should get it done in our own way, and one of the Magistrates handed two cones to Dr. Wood, that he might analyse them—I also acted in the proceedings before Mr. Cooke at Marylebone Police-court—the summonses were against other defendants than these, and the Magistrate dismissed them; consent was given by the prisoners concurrently.
THOMAS HAWKINS (Detective Sergeant V). I am stationed at Richmond—on June 22nd I received a warrant for the arrest of Karim Bahksh, formerly of Verandah House, The Green, Richmond, Surrey—I could not find him in the neighbourhood—I heard something on August 28th, and on the 29th I went to Halifax, in Yorkshire, and from there to Granby and Morley, where I went to 3, Claydon Square, and saw Heere Shah and Khair Deen walking along together—I said I was a police officer, and
asked them to accompany me to the police-station, which they did, and Mrs. Russell, who was there, identified Heere Shah as the man who did the operation and Khair Deen as the assistant—I read the warrant to Heere Shah, referring to him as Kream Bocesh—I said, "You are Heere Shah;" he said, "I am known to the witness as Heere Shah"—I went to his lodging, and took possession of this bag, minus the tin box, and these handbills—I said, "I found all these bills at 3, Blake Square"—he said, "Yes"—I also took possession of this hand-glass, and these cones in a box, and all the things in this bag—I took Heere Shah to Bradford; he was accompanied by the other, but I had no warrant for him, and I left him there—I took Heere Shah to Richmond; he made no answer to the charge—I received these two warrants at Richmond (For Khair Deen and Kream Bocesh), and another, dated the same day, for Shahah Bedean—I arrested Khair Deen at Dewsbury, and read the warrant to him—he said, "Me don't understand"—I took him to 3, Blake Square, where he lodged, and found this tin box there containing the instruments examined yesterday by Mr. Critchett—I took him to Richmond; he was charged, and made no reply—on September 6th I saw Kream Bocesh in Court at Richmond—a warrant was then and there granted for his arrest, and he was formally taken in custody—he was allowed to remain in Court—I gave the pills and the snuff to Mr. Wood—I received them from Mrs. Russell the same morning.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. NO attempt was made to conceal their addresses—they readily went with me—there were two hooks in the tin box; they were bright when I had them, one is rusty now—I found this powder at the prisoners' lodgings; here is a whole box of pills which I kept—what I found was in this bag, and both sides have had possession of it—I don't remember any other snuff being taken from me except the snuff which I handed to the doctor—there is nothing like it in the bag—I did not take possession of the effects at Verandah House, where they lived last—I do not find in this bag any snuff like this—here is a box of pills and other small articles with an Indian inscription—the other box of pills is nearly full—I received four pills in a box, and gave them to Mr. Wood's clerk—the Magistrate dismissed the previous charges of maliciously wounding, and the only charges were for obtaining money by false pretences—I arrested Kream Bocesh in Court; I do not know what he was doing—I sealed up a box of pills and snuff—this is it. (Produced)—this is not the box taken from the prisoners when they were arrested.
WILLIAM STEVENS (Detective B). On 2nd September, in consequence of information, I went to the Town Hall, Bradford, and there received these warrants for the arrest of Shahah Bedean—I took him into custody, and,. read the warrant to him—he said, "Me not know what you mean"—I afterwards went to 11, Henry Street, Bradford, the lodging of Shahah Bedean—he was there under the name of Kream Bocesh—I found there a number of handbills, headed, "Mr. Kream Bocesh, Oculist, 11, Henry Street, Bradford"—among other things there I found a big book similar to this, produced a day or two ago; it is written in Hindoostanee—I took Shahah Bedean to Richmond, where he was charged—he made no reply.
This being the case for the Prosecution, MR. JERVIS, MR. BALL, and MR. WARBURTON severalty contended that the evidence did not support the charges Contained in the various counts of the indictment, either as to the false pretences or conspiracy.
The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that the case must be left, to the JURY; it substantially resolved itself into a question of bona fides or otherwise.
The following Witnesses were called for the Defence.
JOHN CROWDER STEVENS . I live at Rushton, Northamptonshire, and am a coal merchant—when about four years of age I had an attack of brain fever, after which my sight became bad, short-sighted—in the following spring a person took me to Sir Salbzberg Wells, an eminent ophthalmic surgeon; I was then nearly live—I have very little memory of it; I cannot remember what took place, or what I was suffering from—I know my mother tried to get glasses for me, but failed; no glasses would do me any good—two years afterwards, when I was about seven, I went to Mr. Walton Jones—I do not remember what took place at that inter-view—I subsequently consulted him at his surgery in London; I don't know the address—I should say that was five or six years afterwards, when I was about twelve or thirteen; I am now thirty-three—he examined my eyes thoroughly; he said there was no change—about eleven years, ago I suffered pain in my eyes, and I consulted Dr. Bell Taylor, of Nottingham; he galvanized my temples, and gave me a recipe for some pills, and afterwards I got some ointment from a chemist that he recommended, that gave me temporary relief only for a day or so—I derived no benefit from those various treatments—I told Dr. Bell Taylor that I could get no glasses to suit me; he said, "No, no glasses will suit you, the disease is at the back of the eye"—in July, 1893, in consequence of an advertisement in a local paper, I went to some of these Indian oculists at Welling borough—I saw Heere Shah—my eyes were examined—they lanced the temple, and placed something on it, I believe, and also placed some dressing in my eyes; it was made into a paste by dissolving it on a slate with water—that was not a painful operation—I have been under their treatment since, all through—I continued to take medicines—they were liquid medicines, and I took snuff and also cones—I have continued under their care up to the time they were taken into custody—I have in my pocket some of the cones which they gave me. (Producing them)—my eyes have been better under their treatment; I have less pain; my sight is stronger, clearer, and a little longer sight than it was—I can see distant objects more clearly and distinctly—my head is much better; I have no pain in my head—I used to have head-aches—it was my intention to go on with their treatment—I have come here quite voluntarily to give evidence, at some cost to myself.
Cross-examined. After my illness when I was four years old I do not remember if I could see; I have no recollection so long ago—I could see when I went to Sir S. Wells; I was not blind—I am told that my sight had not improved when I went to Mr. Walter Jones; practically there was no change—my relatives told me so, but I could see—I last went to Mr. Bell Taylor about eleven years ago—there was not much change in my sight at that time—it was very painful—I could see; I have never been blind—I can see to read this print. (Looking at a Testament)—after
seeing Mr. Bell Taylor I continued to read; the pain kept on—so far as the pain was concerned in July last, I was practically in the same condition, but my sight had got worse—I could still read, but it was dimmer and with difficulty—I never use glasses—the pain in my head was absolutely continuous, without cessation; it was nearly always a headache; I suffered great pain—I never went to any other doctor about it—the main disease was brain fever—the defendants gave me nothing to take internally; afterwards they gave me some liquid medicines—that was probably two months ago; six weeks or two months after I first went to them—when I first went to them I did not tell them the history of my case—I may have casually mentioned my illness when four years old—they did not go into that; they simply examined—Heere Shah first of all worked the upper lid of the eye, and then examined me with a round magnifying glass which he held in his hand; then he examined my head, simply feel-ing, as a doctor would the pulse, across my temples; sometimes with two fingers, and then the two temples together—that was on the first occasion, and some paste stuff was put into my eyes—that caused no pain or smarting—then my temples were cut and blisters put upon them—I have heard indirectly that I had disease of the optic nerve, left by the brain fever—the pain in my head seemed all over, it seemed to move about a good deal, in different parts of my head—they gave me something for that some weeks afterwards—I have not got any of it here—I can't say what it was, the colour was red—it seemed a very good tonic—I am colour blind; it appeared to me to be red—I can't tell blue from violet, or red from green—it had a very good effect upon me—I took it twice a day, morning and afternoon—it had a strengthening effect, a regular good tonic, it did me a lot of good—the pain went, my general health is marvellously improved—I never had the curiosity to ask what the tonic was; it was bitter to the taste, but not at all unpleasant—the Indians told me I was suffering from a disease of the head; I can't say what disease, they never told me—I asked them to say in Indian what it was, and they said it, but I cannot reproduce it.
WILLIAM RANDALL . I am a machine upper closer, and live at 64, Mill Road, Wellingborough—I am 63 years of age—previous to March, 1893, I had been blind in the right eye for seven years—in June, 1888, I went to the Royal Ophthalmic Hospital in Bloomfield Street, Moorfields, with this letter. (Produced)—I was examined by the surgeon there, Mr. Hulk; he examined both eyes—he said the right was blind, and the other ulcerated—he gave me some drops, and ordered me a pair of glasses; I gave 5s. for them to the optician belonging to the hospital—Mr. Hulk said if my left eye got worse I was to come again—on 3rd August I went again—I could then hardly see my way about, I was nearly blind—he told me to come in six weeks or two months, and I should then be totally blind—I could see a little out of the left eye—I have never seen out of my right eye for seven years—I did not see Mr. Hulk again; I believe he had left; I saw one of the other surgeons—he examined my eyes, and said my right eye was not any good, he could not operate on that, but said if I would go home for six weeks or two months he would try and see if he could get me sight in my left eye—he said by that time he thought I should be quite blind—after I got home I heard of these Indian oculists at Bedford; a friend gave me this bill—I did not
go for a few days; I went first to the General Gordon's to ascertain if it was a fraud, to see if it was true—my wife took me there—that was in August last year, after I came from the infirmary; my wife took me to see some Indians—I cannot identify any of them; these were not any of them—I saw one of these gentlemen at Kettering—I went to Bedford for twenty-seven weeks under their treatment—I had a bill given to me in the street one day as I was going home from work—in March this year I saw Heere Shah, I think it was; he examined my eyes, and he said if I came to live at Kettering he would operate on one of them (at that time I could not see about with either eye, my wife had to lead me to the shop where I was at work)—he said, "Come and live here, and I will see what I can do for you"—he put some medicine in my eyes, and I went home for three days and went back on the following Monday morning, and then he scratched my temple and put some plaster on, and more medicine—I never had a blister—I don't think the treatment did good or harm—I went to him for nine days before he operated upon me; he then closed my left eye with a handkerchief, and took the cataract off—I can't say how it was done, and I don't think anyone else could—two of my sons were there—he said it was cataract in my right eye—there were seven people in the room—he did nothing to my left eye, only put some medicine in—after he had operated on the right eye he let me sit for five minutes; he then held up his hand, and said, "Can you see that?"—I said yes—then he held up a piece of cotton—it was like a transformation scene to me, I had not seen daylight so long; I could see all in the room—I could not see like that before—I can see now; I can see you plainly—after it was done I walked a quarter of a mile—they followed me home, and gave me instructions what I was to have done to my eyes—I adhered to what they told me—my sight got better ever day, and so it does now—I got my glasses from Moorfields last August, since the operation—I have another pair for long distance—my right eye now is as well as anybody else's, free from cataract—the left eye has cataract now—I could not discern anybody's features with it—I can with my right eye, as well as possible—the left eye would not heal—I can walk, I have come from Honor Oak Park this morning.
Cross-examined. I cannot speak to the names of the persons I saw at Bedford—what was done to me there was just the same as these gentlemen did; no difference whatever—my right eye began to get bad ten or twelve years ago—I had a snowball thrown at it and it caused inflamma-tion, and gradually got worse—seven years ago I had totally lost the sight of my right eye—my left eye gradually got worse—I went to Brompton Infirmary four or five times and had a change of glasses—I did not tell Heere Shah the history of my case—he never asked me any ques-tions, he just looked at my eye with a little round magnifying glass—he said he thought he could cure me—he said it was not him that gave sight it was God that gave sight, and he would give me medicine—after looking through the glass he said it was cataract; and nine days afterwards I had the operation—I cannot tell you what he did to my eye—I did not see what was in his hand—he bound up this eye with a handkerchief, and when my eye was liberated I saw him standing there, and two of my sons, and they could not see what was done—they are not here—there was no blood from it, not a bit of it, nothing of the kind—I saw what he had
taken away; I picked it up, the cataract; I could have picked it off the ground—it was like a piece of skin; it looked to me like a piece of white skin—I cannot say how big it was, but I know I saw it—I saw it fall as soon as my cataract was removed, I saw light directly—it appeared to lie on my cheek; it might be as big as a sixpence—I could not see through it, I never had the chance—I did not see any scissors, I could not see anything used—he told me it was a cataract—I went to the hospital at Moorfields last August—I have never looked at the eye that was operated upon by Heere Shah to see if there was any mark on it—I did not tell the doctor at Moorfields what had been done to my eye—I went there for a pair of glasses, and I got them—I can see now with my right eye; I can see to read with it—I cannot see with my left; that went gradually after the other got blind—after the operation the left got better—I can see my way about with my left eye—I can see with it a little, not much; not better since the operation, about the same—it seems a little better since I have had medicine, but I have had none lately—the doctor at Moorfields examined me and thought it was better for me to have glasses; he examined me in a dark room, and then they gave me the glasses.
Re-examined. When I went back to Moorfields I saw the doctor—they worked out the glasses, and said they were no good to me.
THOMAS WHITEHOUSE . I am an engine-driver, of 15, Cumberland Road, Loughborough—I am a native of Staffordshire—previous to September, 1892, I was blind for two years and a half—for two years before that my sight was beginning to go; both eyes were failing—I was recommended to go to the Infirmary at Nottingham, and I went there about the end of 1889—the doctor examined my eyes, and said I had got double cataract—a fortnight afterwards he operated on the left eye, and said, if they took the cataract off, I should see as well as ever I did in my life—the effect of that operation was that I have never seen since with that eye—he told me when he discharged me that I should lose the sight of the other, and I did—after some time he said that he had done as much as he could with the right eye, and as to the left eye, I should go blind, and there was not a doctor in the world that could give me sight; so they could do nothing for me—about six months after the operation on the left eye I went blind with the right—in September, 1892, I saw Kream Bocesh at Loughborough; another Indian operated upon me; he treated me many times, and put medicine into my eyes for a fortnight—he said my left eye was gone entirely, but there was sight in my right eye, and he hoped, by the help of God above, he could get me my sight, and he did so in a fortnight—he just scratched my temple, and put on a kind of little plaster; it did not hurt me—I continued to go after the operation, after I had my sight, for many weeks—Kream Bocesh was not there during the operation; it was the other Indian, who is away—the operation was not painful; it was more like the prick of a pin—after he took the cataract off I could see his face immediately—he asked me if I could see, and I said, "Yes, I can see your face"—there were not a great many people in the room; after the operation I could see each of them—he tested my sight; he put his hand on his head and said, "Do you see where my hand is?"—I said, "Yes, on your head"—then he put it to his nose, his beard, and different
Parts of his body, and I could tell him each time where his hand was—one of his assistants went home with me—he told me to get a piece of brick, and after it was hot to put it in a handker-chief and rub it on my eye two or three times a day—I did that—in a week he took off the bandage, and put some more salve on my eye for a day or two—when the bandage was taken off I could see well—I could see his face and different things without a glass; I could see better, and got the glasses from Nottingham—I have seen better ever since.
Cross-examined. It was Dr. Truman who treated me at the Notting-ham Infirmary at the end of 1889 or 1890—I went to the Infirmary for about a year and a half—the operation on my left eye was performed some few weeks after I went there—there were two operations; he came again a day or two after, and operated again on the left eye—there was no operation on the right eye—I could see a little with the right eye at that time—it was one of these testimonials that led me to go to Kream Bocesh—I was quite blind at that time—he put some kind of stuff into the eye—I don't know what it was, and he gave me some pills and a little snuff—that treatment continued for about a fortnight—I could see with my right eye in a fortnight—after the operation, after the fortnight, the man who is not here operated on my right eye—my sight was not better before the operation—there was no change in my sight before the operation—I did not use glasses when I was blind; before that I used glasses, I found them of no use before the operation—I work with glasses sometimes, to read and write with—the operation in September, 1892, was a kind of something he put into my eye, and worked round the cataract, and took it off, and the moment he took it off I could see his face—it was something pushed into the eye; not at the back of the eye, just here (pointing), and then went round the eye; that allowed me to see at once—the operator told me it was a cataract—he then bandaged my eye up—they did not go on putting the salve into my eye till a week afterwards—the hot brick was to ease the pain, but I had no pain—I don't know what effect it had; I did it, and I got better—with the glasses I have now I can see pretty well—I got them about a fortnight or a month after the operation—the Indians were still at Loughborough—one pair I got from Mr. Tyler, an optician at Nottingham; the other pair I got in Loughborough, for close sight, not at an optician's—I tried what would be suitable, and selected these—my eye was bandaged up for a fortnight, and then he took it off, and bandaged it up again—the purchase of the glasses was about a week or a fortnight after the operation—I told the optician when I went for the glasses that I had had cataract, and that it had been removed by an Indian.
Re-examined, I have not received any pay to come here and give evidence.
GEORGE MARTIN . I am a painter, and live at 9, Shaftesbury Street, Tottenham—William Albert Martin is my son; he was fourteen last birthday—he has suffered from his eyes for over nine years; he got better a little after June—his sight was very bad, he was not blind; it continued getting worse until he went under this operation—I took him to St. Bartholomew's Hospital for about five or six weeks; that would be about seven or eight years ago—he did not derive any benefit whatever—
his mother took him to Guy's Hospital about six years ago, for five or six times—I took him to Moorfields three times about four years ago, and then to the Great Northern Hospital, about two years ago, and to Tottenham Hospital seven, eight, or nine months ago—he had a lotion and ointment; I have some of the ointment now—they did not say what was the matter with him; I did not ask at either of the hospitals; I only went with him once or twice; his mother did not ask—I did not know what was the matter with him—I never heard he was no better till I took him to the Indian oculists, 57, St. Ann's Road, Stamford Hill—I cannot recognise either of the prisoners—I did not see any of these testimonials; this is the first I have seen—I was handed a bill, which had on it, "Indian Oculist," and the number of the house in St. Ann's Road, 75 and 77—I cannot think of the oculist's name—I went there and saw a gentleman—he told me the little boy's sight was very bad, and he asked me if I was able to pay—I said I was out of work—he said, "Very good, if the boy goes longer it is a bad case; you bring him, and I will do what I can," and I took him on three occasions—I do not recollect either of these prisoners; the man I saw was similar in appearance to the second one, but much taller—the boy is now quite well—he only applied a shade and put something into his eye; no operation; he was not cut in that way—he could see a little when he went, but very badly—he did not tell me what was the matter with him—the boy is now working at a coal office, keeping the times. (ALBERT MARTIN, the son of the witness, fifteen years old, was called into the box, but was not examined.)
BERTHA BECKER . I live at 1, Park Villas, Morton Park, Wandsworth—I know all the prisoners; they had rooms in my house—Kream Bocesh did not lodge at my place—I recognise him—I know Sarah Ralph—I was present when the operation was performed on her; it was done very quickly, and without pain—she told me herself that she had not any pain—she afterwards told me she could see—she was blind when she came to my house; she said she could see at last—I wrote out a testimonial for her at his wish and Mrs. Ralph's wish; that was after the first operation—I know nothing about the second testimonial, only that they were going to give one to Mr. Ralph—that was after the second operation—I do not know Mr. Ralph's writing—these instruments produced are like those I have seen, with one exception.
Cross-examined. I know Kream Bocesh by sight; he was sometimes with his brother—I did not live in the same house with him; he may have stayed one night on a visit—Heere Shah was living at Park Villas under the name of Kream Bocesh, and Kream Bocesh and Shahah Bedean were living with him—I was generally present at operations—I don't know that I ever saw an operation performed by Heere Shah; it was Shahah Bedean, I think—he did help in the operation on Mrs. Ralph; he was certainly close to her—I don't know whether Shahah Bedean performed. the operation; I was in and out of the room—I did not see him with the pen-knife—the first operation was performed by Shahah Bedean—directly after the operation I heard Heere Shah tell Mr. Ralph that he should like to have a testimonial—before that Mrs. Ralph had been having some drug put in her eye, and she could see a little—she could see to come alone—after the operation of 5th July the eye was bandaged; after she
had tried the light I believe the testimonial was asked for, whilst the eye was bandaged—I wrote out the testimonial, because no one could write—Mr. Ralph did not write it—he said he could not compose it, or put it together, and asked me to do it, as a favour—I don't think he said he could not write; I did not put it together—he and I sat at the table; he helped; I could not do everything—I did not know what he was going to say—I don't know how many testimonials I assisted to write out—it was not the ordinary thing that I should attend the operation and then compose the testimonial—I should say I composed three; I cannot swear to it—I believe I always gave them immediately after the operation—they were given because the patients felt improvement—I believe I drew up Allison's; he could write, and he wrote his own afterwards—I wrote it because he was ill—I believe it was the third day after the operation, because his son was to have written it, and he could not—I did not write it because he could not see to do it; he could see; one eye was bound up, but he could see with the other; only one eye was operated on—I put down what he wished—his operation was quite successful—I have seen him since; he attended a long time afterwards—I have not seen him for the last three months—I do not know that he is in attendance here—I do not know that his eye is not actually healed, and that it will probably have to be removed—I did not hear from him that he was going blind—he came nearly every day, and said he was getting very much better—I think the third testimonial I gave was my own, I don't recollect any other—there may have been; I have written letters for them when they have asked me—no operation was performed upon me—I never assisted in one; I have been present; they asked me to go in, and all the patients—I did not see Kream Bocesh put the hooks into the eyes of Mrs. Ralph—I have seen him try the eyelid with the hook—I have seen them do it with one hook, never with two; I never was so very close—I have used glasses for fourteen years—I used to have a floating before the eyes; I have not got it now—I have not seen the skin lifted, and a piece snipped off from the front of the eye—I saw scissors used to cut something off Mr. Fryer's eye, and it was held up to the people who were there, and he said that was what had partly obstructed the sight—that same thing was not done to Mrs. Ralph—I was not present when the little boy was operated on; he was not operated on in my house; Allison was—I don't know that they shaved something from the back of his eye; I think they cut some-thing off the front; I could not say for certain—I saw the skin held up in Mr. Fryer's case, and a small bit held up from Mrs. Ralph's eye—in the three cases that I was present at I drew up the testimonial—of course, the bills were distributed in order to bring people to the place to be cured—I thought the operations did good—the patients said that they did; Mr. Ralph said so—I gave a statement to Mr. Wood; I don't think I told him that I had no opportunity of judging whether the operations did good or harm—I suppose I must have said so, if Mr. Wood says so.
Re-examined. The people continued to come after the operation—except from what they told me, I could not judge of the advantage or disadvantage they received—Allison paid nothing; he was a very poor man—it was the custom of the oculists to treat poor people at a low rate, and if very poor they did it for nothing—they asked Allison for a testimonial
as the only recompense he could make—I saw persons treated with the paste, and so on—while they lodged with me, for five months, they had, I should say, nineteen patients; they used to attend in turns—I never saw any operations except these—I could not describe what a surgeon was doing in an operation—the Indians could not write a word of English; I used to write their documents for them—it was in that way that I came to transcribe their testimonials—I was treated, but not operated upon—I derived advantage from the treatment.
MARIA HALLAM . I live at Dee Court, Loughborough, Leicestershire, and am a widow—prior to October, 1892, I had been blind in the right eye for quite twelve years—the eyelid had closed down over the sight and I had no power to open it—in October, 1892, in consequence of advertisements, I went to the firm of Indians, who were then at Loughborough—I have seen all the prisoners there at different times; I knew one as Dr. Sixfoot—the one who examined my eyes is not present—they doctored me with medicine first, and put medicine in my eyes for about three weeks—they scratched my temples, and put on a plaster; it did not hurt me; they don't touch you to hurt you—there was a little smarting—a man who is not here cut my eyelid—none of the prisoners were present then, but they were at some of the dressings—the effect of cutting the eyelid was to cause me to be able to raise the lid; I can read out of that eye now, and the lid will still come down and cover the eye if I want it to—I have been well ever since with my eyes.
Cross-examined. I never went to a hospital, infirmary, or any place of that kind; I was too nervous—I was quite blind in the right eye before the operation—I could see when the eyelid was raised up, but I could not raise it except with my finger; when I did that I could see with the eye, but I could not keep it up—the cutting was about half-way up the eyelid—they stitched up the cut portions with needle and cotton, which had the effect of shortening the eyelid, so that it would not drop down so far as before—I could not by muscular action raise the lid at all; now it keeps up—I can shut it if I want to.
Re-examined. I can keep it open or shut it, as I like; it is long enough to cover the whole of the eye.
WILLIAM HENRY RALPH . I live at Distillery Road, Norwich, and am a watchmaker and jeweller—about eleven or twelve years ago I found the sight of my right eye going bad; it caused me very great pain—at first I could see a little; it gradually got worse and worse, and two years last Christmas I entirely lost the sight of my right eye—before I lost the sight, when I was reading, letters would run into one another, and there was a mist before my eyes—I went to some chemists, and they gave me some-thing to put into the eye, and some friends recommended me some stuff, too—I put it into the eye; it was not successful—in the spring of 1891 I was ill with scarlet fever, and Dr. Watson, of Norwich, who was attending me, noticed my eye, and told my wife he thought he could cure it and when I got better I asked him if he would examine my eye, and he said, after examining it, that there was no cure for the sight of my right eye; he did not say what was the matter with it—he said I could have the eye out, but he recommended me not to have it out while I could see out of the left—I suffered very great pain from it, and that pain increased when I became quite blind—about twelve months ago the sight
of my left eye seemed to be going dim in a similar way to that in which the right eye did, and I suffered pain from the commencement of its getting queer just as I did with the right—in August, 1893, I went to the Indian oculists, who were then in Norwich—I do not recognise any of the prisoners as the gentleman whose treatment I was under—the tall prisoner (Kream Bocesh) opened up the business in Norwich, and it was one of his assistants whose treatment I was under—Kream Bocesh was there with the Indians, but I did not see him when I was operated on—I did not see him during my attendance there, but I knew he was in Norwich; I had seen him walking about the streets there by himself—I lived close to where they lodged—I went to the establishment carried on under his name—I did not see him there—I was operated on by one of his assistants, an Indian named Sunda—I can see very well now, very much better than I could before I went to the Indians—Sunda examined my eyes, and told me there was no cure for the sight of my right eye, but that he could stay the pain in it, and that he would give me medicine and put on a plaster; that he would give me medicine, and God would give me the sight of my left eye—after the first week I entirely lost the pain in my right eye, and I have not had returns of it since—as to the left eye, he scratched or cut it slightly with an instrument at the side, and put on a plaster, and put in medicine—the plaster drew it very slightly, and hurt me very slightly indeed—it was not very painful—he also applied a plaster to the right eye to. reduce the pain—I attended twice a day, and I am still under their treatment—the sight of the left eye has been improving every day—I have lost all pain from both eyes; I have had no pain in either since a week after the plasters were put on—they were taken off a week after they were put on.
HANNAH REEVE . I live at Higham, Norwich, and am a brushmaker—I am eighteen—a fortnight before Christmas, 1892, my right eye became bad—I felt pain in it, and the sight went all at once, and I became quite blind in that eye—I could see out of my left eye for a week, and then that went bad all at once, with pain, and I was quite blind—I went to Dr. Taylor, of the Prince of Wales Road, Norwich—he examined my eyes, and put stuff into them—it hurt me very much—he gave me powders to take—I was under his treatment for four weeks—I derived no good from it—he said I had inflammation of the eyes—I afterwards went to the Higham Infirmary, and they gave me atrophine in a liquid form to drop into the eyes—that hurt me—they also gave me medicine to drink, and powders—I was an in-patient of the hospital for seven weeks, and then an out-patient for about three months—I derived no benefit from the treatment; when I left the infirmary I was still blind in both eyes—I kept putting stuff into my eyes for five weeks after that, and it did no good—I was then recommended to the Indian oculists by a friend, and I went to their establish-ment in Norwich—Mr. Sunda, Mr. Kream Boceah's assistant, attended me—I could not see any of the men there, for I was totally blind.—(The prisoner 8 were told that they might, if they chose, speak to the witness in order to ascertain if she recognised their voices. Kream Bocesh thereon said: "The establishment I kept in my name there. I had an assistant there, whom I presume the witness has seen. To my knowledge, she never saw me, for I was away in Spain")—Sunda put medicine into
my eyes; it did not hurt me—I underwent an operation on the left eye—he cut me somewhere; it was a little painful, it did not hurt much—I could not see them, but he treated me after the operation, and I can see objects now—I can only see fingers close to me—the Indian cut both my temples, and put a planter on—it did not hurt me—that eased the pain, and I have had no pain since—I am still under his treatment—I can see in both eyes now—I can go about Norwich without being led, and I can lead other patients about now.
JAMES PALMER . I live at Barrack Street, St. James, Norwich, and am a sand shifter—last Easter the sight of my right eye became bad; I could see a little out of the left—I went to a chemist, and then to the Higham Infirmary—there they gave me something to drop in, and ointment to rub in—I was an out-door patient for a month—I got worse instead of better—I could not see anything with the right; I could see a little with the left eye—my sister had a bill given to her about the Indian oculists, and told me to go to them, and I did so—I saw an Indian called Sunda—I did not see any of the prisoners—Sunda told me he was Kream Bocesh's assistant—the Indian told me that the disease of my left eye was inflammation, congealed blood, disease of the bone—I am sure he said bone—he put some stuff in—I was under his treatment for three days, and then he operated on my right eye—he cut the lid and took out a speck, which he showed me—he told me that was the disease of the eye—he gave me scarcely any pain—the operation lasted about one minute and a half—he bandaged up the eye; it was on a Thursday—the following Friday week he took the bandage off, and I have not had it on since—I could not see any better when he took the bandage off, but after a week I could see anything held up half a yard in front of me—it did away with the inflammation—before I went to him the right eye gave me awful pain—my temples were cut, and a plaster put on; one was done first—it did not hurt me—after that there was not any pain—I do not suffer pain now—I am still under the treatment—I went to work after the operation; before it I was not able to go to work, because I could not see; I had to wear a shade.
Cross-examined. The speck was white, with a little blood at the end—it was as big as the top of my little finger—it looked like a piece of flesh—he said the disease of the bone was where my eyebrow is—this scar is the result of the plaster; he put on a warm plaster, and that caused the inflammation and weakness to leave me—he put on the second plaster a week after the first—the warm plaster was this red-hot iron—I saw him put the iron in the fire and make it red-hot, and then he put it on the side of my head where this scar is—before he did that I had a good deal, of pain, and when he put the hot iron on, the pain went away, and I was able to leave off the shade, and go to work—there is a similar scar on the other side of my face; that was done with the red-hot iron too, at the same time—it burnt a little, not much—before he did this operation with the hot iron he explained what he was going to do, and gave it into my hand and asked my consent ever so many times, and I gave my consent.
CAROLINE BUTLER . I am the wife of Walter Butler, of 25, Northamp-ton Road, Wellingborough—I have a boy, Walter Butler, ten years old, who has had very bad sight since he was a baby; he has been blind with the left eye for twelve months—in 1891 I took him to the Northampton
Infirmary—they gave him medicine to drink, and told me glasses were of no use to him—they said both eyes were bad, but did not tell me what was the matter—he attended there about six weeks; they did not seem to do him any good; he was getting worse in the left eye—they told me to bring him later in life—I went again about nine months ago, and they told me his eye was nearly blind; it was not nearly, but quite, blind; the right eye, they said, was bad, and glasses were no use to him—three or four months ago I took him to Heere Shah and Shahah Bedean at Wellingborough, and, after they had treated him for a month, the child could see, count fingers—they gave him medicine, pills, and snuff—they performed no operation—they put paste into his eyes twice a day—it did not appear to hurt him at all; they were too harmless to hurt him—the sight of his eye is much better now; he is still under treatment—he did not suffer pain at any time.
Cross-examined. My little boy is here—a little time after his birth his sight became bad; there was no discharge from his eyes, but a very bad discharge from his ears—his eyes did not get inflamed; he always had the discharge; he has it now a little, but not just lately—the Northampton doctors never told me he had ophthalmia of the newly born; they never told me anything; I asked the question—they said if his eyes went wrong he would see, perhaps, when he was fifteen, he might grow out of it when fourteen or fifteen; but he has seen before that—the discharge from the ears was worse sometimes than at others—his sight was not better at some times and worse at others, it kept getting worse all the time, until the use of his eyes was gone—he can see now out of both eyes—I have closed up his right eye, which is the best, and held up fingers, and ho can count fingers and read letters with the left eye—the right was always the letter eye.
Re-examined. He was ten years old on Saturday.
WALTER BUTLER . I am husband of the last witness, and father of the little boy—his sight has been bad from infancy—I have taken him to the Indians—Shahah Bedean and Heere Shah have treated him—I was so satisfied with their treatment that I came up from Wellingborough to be bail for Heere Shah—I am grateful to them—I am a shoemaker—I was present at Richmond Police-court as a spectator; I read of the prose-cution in the newspaper, and went to Richmond to hear the case, as I was interested—I became bail for Heere Shah, and have been bail for him since he has been here.
FRANCES HENLEY TREW . I am the landlady of Verandah House, Richmond—at the end of September or beginning of October, 1892, Shahah Bedean engaged rooms at my house—he was there about a month, carrying on the business of an oculist—during that time neither he nor any of these Indians performed operations—patients came there twice a day—I did not see any of the other Indians except Shahah Bedean during that month—at the end of the month he went away, and Heere Shah came and occupied the rooms until the beginning of January—Khair Deen, who was with him, did not leave till the begin-ning of April—I saw a number of operations performed; I saw the one on Willie Turner—I should think it was performed with great care and tenderness; that was how it struck me—the boy cried very much, but not more than a child of four years would cry with pain—after the
operation neither the father, mother, or the nurse complained of anything like cruelty, neither to me or to anyone in my presence—when Mary Perry was there Khair Deen came to me in the kitchen, and I went back with him to their room on the first floor—Mrs. Perry was certainly not locked in the room—there was no key in the door, I can swear—Khair Deen had no key; I had it—there was no bolt on the inside or outside of the door—when Khair Deen came down to me he said, "Will you come up; I am afraid she is a drinking woman"—he asked me to explain to her that he wanted his money that afternoon—I hardly know whether Mrs. Perry was quite sober, she was excited—I told her she must bring the money in the afternoon, and then she went away, and said she would endeavour to bring it in the afternoon—she did not return that day—I saw patients come there on various occasions; I may have heard two or throe complaints made that they were a long time before they were much better—I know Mrs. Bockett—she has discussed the treatment with me several times—she never complained to me—I acted as their amenuensis while they were with me—they could not write English, and I wrote their letters.
Cross-examined. I received complaints from patients who came to Verandah House for a considerable time, and did not think they were very much better; they said they were a little better, but they had been a long time over it—I saw two or three operations, I could not exactly say how many—I knew the patients, but not their names—in the case of Willie Turner, Heere Shah put one hook in the corner of the eyelid, and another in the corner of the skin, and then put a needle through the skin which had grown over the eye, and then after a little while he cut the skin off—when he smoked his pipe he left the child that he might get over crying a little bit, leaving the cotton hanging down from the eye—I noticed the spitting on the mantelpiece; he sharpened the knife or was supposed to do so—I am not certain whether he used the knife or scis-sors—I cannot suggest any reason for spitting on the mantelpiece; it was for the purpose of sharpening or cleaning the knife, but I don't know what it was for—several people who had been patients came there after the Indians left—I did not know where they were going—they were with me, on weekly terms; they gave me a week's notice and went—they paid me.
MAHOMMED YUSSEF KHAN . I am a doctor of medicine—I am not registered in London; I have been a surgeon in the army in the Indian Medical Service—I am M. D. of Calcutta—I have left the service—my last appointment was medical officer at Candahar with Lord Roberts—I am a specialist in the diseases of women and children—I have my diploma from Dublin College in that branch—when Indian oculists leave India to come to England they have passports from Magistrates there—Indian oculists are a special caste of Mahommedans practicing all over India—they have no register at present, but they are trying to get one—they practise no other branch of medicine or surgery—the prisoners come from the Punjaub—I am a native of the Punjaub myself—these are the official documents given to them in their country; they are the ordinary passports and are signed by the Commissioner of Gunga—most Mahommedans, whether they are oculists or not, have to have this passport; I have had the same—qualified medical men require them—in such a passport it
is usual to give a description of the mode in which a man gets his living, and the document is signed by the District Commissioner—among Mahommedans the eldest son only uses the surname—if Heere Shah's full name is Heere Shah Kream Bocesh and the next defendant is his eldest brother only, the elder brother would go by the name of Kream Bocesh in his own country—my brother's names are quite different to mine—if these documents appertain to the prisoners they rightly disclose their occupation as signed by the Magistrate of the district—they are in English. (The first of these certified that Heere Shah was a British subject by naturalisation, proceeding to Europe for the purpose of curing eye diseases, accompanied by other members of his family, and that his profession and occupation was that of eye doctor. 'The second certified the same as to Kream Bocesh, and gave as his ancestral profession and occupation that of eye doctor)—Hindustani is my mother tongue—this is an official document in that language, with the seal of the Magistrate's office, and signed by Dass, the Registrar of Gehunda, in the Punjaub; it is a sort of certificate relating to Kream Bocesh.
Cross-examined. The practice of obtaining these passports is the same as in England, except that there are witnesses—the information in those papers is derived from his father, or two near relatives, who have to give a description of the man—three years ago I saw the prisoners in St. Martin's Lane, and spoke to them—in India there are people who study from Hakkim, physicians—they are the students of physicians—I sat on the bench at Richmond behind the Magistrates while the case was being heard—after that Mr. Wood, the solicitor for the prosecution, came to me; the Assistant Clerk introduced me; I had not spoken to the Assistant Clerk before that—Mr. Wood made an appointment for me to call on him at Chancery Lane, and I did so, and gave my name as Dr. Mahommed Khan—I did not say I could give him information about the prisoners; I said I knew them perfectly well—I said I could give infor-mation—Mr. Wood took some paper to take down what I could say bout them—I did not stop Mr. Wood and say I was rather hard up and in want of some employment just then, or that there must be a lot of business in connection with the society that was prosecuting; nothing of the kind—Mr. Wood said he would pay my expenses for me to come to Richmond—I did not say that people in my position must think of themselves—Mr. Wood did not tell me that the questions of giving evidence against the prisoners, and of employment by the society, were quite distinct, or that none of the officers of the society were paid; nothing of the kind—I know he said, "If you can give information, will you come to Richmond?"—he did not tell me that if I went to Richmond I should simply get my proper expenses—he offered me money, and I told him blood was thicker than water—he said he would give me money afterwards; I wanted to test Mr. Wood; that was the reason I went to see what his opinion was—he offered me a couple of guineas above my expenses—I said a labourer was worthy of his hire, and I should want ten guineas—Mr. Wood did not how me out at the door; he asked me to come again—I did not tell Mr. Wood that these people were of the costermonger class; I never used such a phrase—I did not say they would be speedily stopped if they attempted to practise in India—I did not then say that blood was thicker
than water, and that I would stick to my own colour—I Bay I went to Mr. Wood in order to test him, and the interview resulted in nothing.
By the COURT. We get into the Indian Medical Service by competitive examinations—the study of the eye, and practice with regard to it, have advanced in India very much to the extent it has in this country—Dr. McNamara was my teacher, so that qualified eye-doctors know as much as they do here—in India the caste like the prisoners, practise among the poorer people, and sometimes rich people call them in as well—they treat the eye with Indian herbs, and perform operations, too—they are not prohibited by law from doing that—the obsolete operation of couching for cataract is practised by the caste of Indian oculists—I know it has been discontinued by the profession here for forty years, and that in India, they still perform it—this is the first time I have come to England—in India, we are water drinkers; I have never tasted beer—we eat meat; Hindoos do not—great numbers are cured by couching for cataract in India, and my mother used to do it; we cured many blind there—you get the white of an onion, and drop the juice into the eye, and in about three nights it would cure them—it clears the crystalline lens, and clarifies the conjunctiva—that was not for cataract, but for moon blindness—the operation of couching for cataract is very successful in India, and is very much practised by these oculists—I use a great many of my Indian remedies—if called in in India to an Indian patient suffering from cataract I should use the operation of couching—I should remove the lens, that is the Indian method of couching; it consists in the whole or partial removal of the diseased lens—the juice of an onion removes the crystalline lens—moon blindness affects the curtain of the eye, more the lens, retina; the portion affected is the mucous thin membrane, the lens—I am not well up in it—I know the anatomy; it becomes in an opaque state and you cannot see—I cannot explain the pathology of it; I can in my own Indian way—the juice of a white onion cures moon blindness; I have cured hundreds—it must be a white onion; it might be a little superstitious—the operation of couching in India consists in first bleeding, opening the temporal arteries, and blistering too; then they perform the operation—in some cases they remove the lachrymal gland—they do the couching in curing cataract; we have a number of cases in India—I cannot explain to you in English terms what cataract is; it is a sort of disease forming in front of the pupil of the eye.
Re-examined. These are the very ones I have seen in Heere Shah's possession—they had those in their possession at the time of the opera-tion on Willie Turner.
WILLIAM RANDALL (Re-examined). I paid 10s. 6d. to the Bedford men for twenty-seven weeks for treating my eye, and £1 1s. down—I went to Kettering, and paid 10s. 6d. down, and 7s. 6d. for eleven weeks.
Cross-examined by MR. JERVIS. I paid two guineas for the operation.
I was out of work—they said, "You bring your boy, he is very bad, and payme when you can."
Cross-examined. I was not able to attend to my business through want of sight—I am a watchmaker and jeweller.
H. W. DODD (Re-examined). I have not had the opportunity of examining Stephens—I have examined Randolph—he is suffering in his left eye, which was not operated on by the Indians, from senile general cataract—in the right eye, which was operated on, the lens is absent from its normal position—I could not find it at all, but it may be inside the eye—the pupil is undilated, and it is impossible to examine the interior of the eye unless the pupil will dilate—I could find no trace of operation or external scar—taking his description, I think what was done was a couching operation—I do not think the cataract was removed altogether; I think it was pushed back into the eye—to have been removed altogether, it would have been larger, and left a larger trace of injury—there is a possibility that it may be removed altogether, but it is very improbable—I should say that it was impossible that a patient could see a cataract removed, and fall at his feet—Whitehouse is quite blind; there is old inflammation and the matting together of the tissues in consequence of the inflammation; his eye is entirely worn out—in the right eye, which was the subject of the operation, the pupil is clear, but just behind the pupil a cataract is lying—I can see it with the ophthalmiscope, and I can barely see it with the hand mirror, throwing a light obliquely into the eye with this magnifying lens—what I think was done to him was typical couching, successfully performed as far as they could go—Walter Butler is suffering at the present time from congenital specific disease of the eyes, arising from syphilis, and existing, probably, from birth—the boy Tanner may have had the same disease, I cannot say; there are traces of past inflammation in both cornea, what we call nebulous starring; both cornea are clouded—the entire of both eyes is essentially diseased—he has inflammation of the retina, that is his chief trouble, and will be—there is considerable injury; part is destroyed, and that portion will not carry images to the brain—he cannot read big letters, he can just tell the time by my watch—if he gets better, he will see better, and if he gets worse he will see worse; but that will not remove the starred tissue; a portion of the retina is clear, but, unfortunately, that is not the portion most used in sight—if he can do what he could not do before his treatment by the Indians, that would be due to the clearing of the front of the eye, the cornea—I say that he had it from birth—the
clearing of the cornea may have been dne to natural causes, or it may have been the treatment—the treatment might cause the hearing to improve, but you also get those changes by time alone; when the patient reaches puberty is a favourable time—James Palmer also suffered from congenital disease of both eyes—he has marked clouding of both cornea—he sees the small print on the back of a telegraph form very badly—I believe the deeper structures of his eyes are also affected, but I cannot see them because of the clouding—the ophthalmoscope is not operative—the cornea are both opaque—he sees distance badly; he has not enough light enter-ing his eyes—the treatment might do him good by producing excessive counter irritation, but it was coarse and brutal treatment; much milder methods would be better; counter irritation for that disease is rarely used now—it was a slow chronic disease; no treatment would hurry it up—in the course of many, many years he may improve very slightly—if after a week's treatment he could see objects half a yard off, I should put the improvement down to counter irritation alone—I do not think anything they could do to it would improve the sight—I cannot make out what the operation was—cutting out a fibrous growth would not cure it except so far as counter irritation is concerned in the case of Mr. Ralph the right eye was what we call staphylomatous of the eye, a bulging—it is a stretched irregular bulging of the eye; it was in a state of chronic inflammation, and there is a cataract; the eye is practically blind—I can find nothing in the left eye; it is practically a normal eye as far as I can perceive without dilating the pupil—I don't think he could have been suffering from any serious trouble, or else I should have found the marks if there had been anything like iritis, or any serious disease—they scarred his temples, that was for the pain—I say of that, as I have said with regard to every case, that it was excessive treatment, such scarring as that must have hurt him; it is possible he was not sensitive, some persons are less sensitive than others—as far as I can gather from Palmer, the plaster was simply a protective, so that the red-hot iron should not come in contact with the skin—I can't say anything about that case—we use such things in our profession as irritating ointment, a milder method which leaves no scar—in the case of Hannah Elizabeth Reeve, she was suffering from congenital specific inflammation of both cornea, they were both opaque, so that the interior back of the eye could not be examined—she has barely a conception of light in the right eye; she barely distinguishes light from darkness; with the left eye she counts fingers badly, and cannot tell the time by my watch at a distance of one foot—the treatment there was by blisters, she has marked scars on either temple—I can only repeat in this case what I said before, that it was excessive treatment; the improvement cannot be very much—there was a scar on the left upper lid, they must have done something there; I don't know what—I should say she would have sufficient sight in the left eye to avoid big objects—even a very small amount of sight is a very great thing—the boy Martin is now practically free from any disease; there is nothing the matter with him that I can find externally, he seems to me quite well—the conjunctiva of both eyes is thickened, as if from past inflammation, his lashes are slightly irregular, and from the history of his case I judge he has suffered from inflammation of the border of the lids, or blathaidis—that would affect his sight—I believe he is long-sighted, that would be
remedied by glasses—the treatment might have had specific action, I cannot say it would not, the presumption would naturally be that it did—I ought to add that this disease varies with health—given health and food, the disease would get better; taking cause and effect together, improve-ment would be a fair inference—in the case of Maria Hallam, the left eye was untouched by the Indians—in the middle of the upper lid of the right eye there is an oblique scar—she has a drooping of the right lid ptosis—I was not aware that she had undergone cutting of the temple; I don't know what would be the object of that; there is no inflammatory disease; it might have been better done, but of course it beneficial; was if skilfully done the scar would not have been so apparent.
DETECTIVE SERGEANT STEVENS (Re-examined). I took a book in the Hindoostani language from Shahah Bedean—this is not the book—I am sure the book was handed to Captain Young, and ho gave a receipt for it—he stated at the time that it related to poetry.
MR. WOOD (Re-examined). I have carefully examined the mixture that was handed to me; it consists of powdered pachelo leaves, and is used as a scent; it is fairly strong—it is not used as medicine, except as a scent—except as a scent it is useless.
MR. MATHEWS claimed a general right of reply upon the whole case.
The COMMON SERJEANT, referring to a decision of MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS in the case of Reg. v. Trevelli and oilier s, in which the right of reply ums limited to the case in which witnesses for one only of the prisoners were called, considered that lie must act upon the ruling in that case, and confined MR. MATHEWS to the summing of the evidence as to MR. BALL'S clients, viz., Shahah Bedean and Kahir Deen, and reply would extend to the case of Heere Shah and Kream Bocesh.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 13TH NOVEMBER, 1893.
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Page. Vol. cxviii. Sentence.