CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIFTH SESSION, HELD MARCH 5TH, 1894.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, March 5th, 1894, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON GEORGE ROBERT TYLER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir WILLIAM GRANTHAM , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JAMES WHITEHEAD , Bart., M. P., Alderman of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; GEO. FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., JNO. POUND, Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., and WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
JOHN VOCE MOORE, Esq., Alderman.
JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Esq., Alderman.
CLARENCE R. HALSE, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
TYLER, MAYOR. FIFTH 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.
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 5th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. GRAZEBROOK Prosecuted and MR. KEITH FRITH DEFENDED.
MARY CROUCH . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 88, Cirencester Street, Harrow Road—on the night my husband assaulted me I had been drinking, but I was a bit sober when he came home—I can't exactly remember what night it was; I think it was in the middle of last month, on a Thursday, I think—his tea was not ready, and he said I had been drinking—I said I had not—he said, "Don't irritate me"—I flew at him in a temper, and he deliberately took up my legs and threw me down on the floor, on the landing of the top floor—our room is the top back room of the fourth floor—I said, "Wait till I get up"—I got up; he went out, as I thought into the next room to get a hammer or Something, as when we are in a temper and have had drink we don't know what we do; I should hit him with the hammer as he would hit me—I was on the landing; the window is rather low, and as he pushed me and I went out at the back landing window—that window is very low from the floor on the inside—I am not sure that I said before the Magistrate, "He lifted me up and threw me through the landing window. I was in a temper at the time, he pushed me through the window"—I think that is a mistake—this is my deposition—I signed it—I did say that before the Magistate—I was never in such a place before—I don't know how much drink I had had on this day—my husband had never threatened me before this—when in drink he might say a word, but not when sober—after I got through the window I fell on to the cistern, the lid gave way, and I got into it, and I got out myself—my landlady, Mrs. Porter, and a man came across the road—Mrs. Porter did not see me in the cistern, I was leaning on a plank, and she opened the landing window and helped me to get out, and got a bit of rag and tied round my finger—I was not much hurt, only my finger was bleeding—the surgeon dressed it at the station—I told the Magistrate that the
prisoner had frequently threatened to swing for me, and to throw me out of the window.
Cross-examined. I have said that this was an accident—I do not suggest that he deliberately threw me out of the window; the cut on my finger was done by the glass in trying to save myself—he was under the influence of drink or he would not have done it; I might have slipped—we' have been married eighteen years—when in drink we are both rather violent—I thought he went to fetch the hammer; if he had hit me with it I should have hit him back—I have said that it was a pure accident, through my having drink; but I leave it to you, gentlemen—in my temper I told the policeman to take him—we always lived happy and comfortable when he was a teetotaler, there could not be a better husband; I don't want to go on with the case.
WILLIAM HAWSE . I am a cellarman, and live at 14, Senior Street, directly opposite the prisoner—on the evening of February 15th I heard a very loud smash, as if of glass—I went out on my leads and saw that the top landing window was smashed completely through, and the woman in the cistern—I went across and helped her out—Mrs. Porter went up with me—she was lying in a helpless state, half in and half out, and bleeding—she said, "My husband has thrown me through the window"—I did not see the prisoner—the cistern is about twelve feet from the window—the window was completely smashed out—I saw nothing about the woman to warrant me in saying she was intoxicated—she was very excited—I tied up her hand—the distance from the cistern to the ground was about twenty to twenty-two feet—at the bottom the ground is concrete.
Cross-examined. She was quite up to her knees in water—she is quite a stranger to me, only as a neighbour—I had never spoken to her.
By the COURT. The window had a double sash, with two panes in each—both panes were smashed, and the woodwork as well.
WILLIAM SPENCER (Policeman). On the evening of the 15th February I was called to 88, Cirencester Street—I found Hawes holding the prisoner by the hand—he was binding it up—it was bleeding very much—from what I was told I went and saw the prisoner—he was upstairs, about seven steps from the window—the prosecutrix requested me to take the prisoner into custody for wilfully throwing her through the window—he replied, "Yes, and I wish she had stopped there, the b—" he was sober—I should say the prosecutrix appeared to have been drinking, but at the station she seemed to have recovered from it—the window inside the landing is about two feet from the floor, and about twelve feet from the cistern.
Cross-examined. I was there with the inspector when he examined it—the woodwork was broken away—the cover of the cistern was broken in—the prosecutrix is a big, heavy woman—all the houses in the street are not kept in good repair—there are rotten cistern covers—I have known the prosecutrix nearly twenty years—I have never seen her drunk or the worse for drink.
JAMES BRISTOW (Inspector X). On the evening of 15th February, I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought there—I told him he would be charged with violently assaulting his wife by throwing her through the landing window, whereby she fell through into
the cistern, causing her grievous bodily harm—he made no answer; all he said was, "Can I have bail?"—I afterwards went and examined the house with a constable—I found that the stairs where the prosecutrix stood were about two feet from the window—the window itself is about three and a half feet wide—the woodwork was broken—the distance from the cistern to the ground is about twenty-two feet—if that wood had not given way, she must have rolled off to the ground—I saw her at the station—she was excited, but certainly not drunk—the prisoner was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. She was very much excited and seemed to have been drinking—I particularly examined the window sashes—they were very old, and in very bad repair—I don't think they would give way readily—the stairs are very rotten, and the house generally in bad repair—I tried the next window on the landing, and pushed it very hard and could not move it.
GEORGE ROBERTSON M. D., and Divisional Surgeon of Police at Kilburn Park Road). On the 15th of last month, at 9.15 p.m., I saw the prosecutrix at the Harrow Road Police-station—she was suffering from a severe lacerated wound of the left hand, about a square inch of skin and flesh being torn out—it was not a dangerous wound, but it was a severe wound—it appeared to be such an injury as would be caused by glass—it was dirty—she was very much excited, but appeared to be perfectly sober—she may have been drinking—she certainly knew what she was about.
Cross-examined. She had no signs of collapse.
ROSINA PORTER (Examined by MR. KEITH FRITH). The prisoner and his wife lived with me six months—they appeared to lead a happy life—I have not seen the prisoner above four times since they lived there—he appeared to be a quiet, hard-working man—they lived at the top of the house; I was down in the kitchen—I never heard them quarrel—I have seen her under the influence of drink—on this day she had been out all day drinking; she was rowing with a neighbour next door all day—he was locked up, and when he came home at night there was no tea or fire; there was a little bit of steak there, not cooked—the window out of which the woman either was thrown or fell was only two or three feet from the landing, and the landing was about three feet four inches wide—in a scuffle a man or woman could easily fall through if slightly pushed—Mrs. Crouch was tight when she was quarrelling with the woman next door, but she had got better when her husband came home—I was bound over as a witness for the prosecution—the prisoner is a very good principled young man—he gets tight too, but she more frequently, and she is a very bad-tempered woman—the landing is so narrow that in a scuffle the woman might have gone through by accident without a push—I did not see her in the cistern; she was leaning on a plank that goes across—I held the light while her finger was bound up—she was not drunk enough to tumble through the window herself—she was not drunk then.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "We are both hardworking people. We both drink hard together. It is all through the drink that has caused this trouble. I hope it will be looked over; it is the first time I have gone to prison."
GUILTY of unlawful wounding.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
269. ERNEST ALFRED SHARP(32) , PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for stealing post letters and their contents, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
272. JOHN PIPER(36) , to two indictments for stealing orders for the payment of money, the property of Robert George Clutton and others, his masters; also to two indictments for forging and uttering receipts, and to four indictments for forging and uttering endorsements on orders for the payment of money.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Six Years' Penal Servitude. And
273. JOHN MONTEITH LAWSON , to stealing £200, the moneys of John Forbes Gorden and another, his masters; also to six indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of money.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited to next Sessions, in order to give the prisoner an opportunity of giving information to the prosecutor
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 5th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
274. JOHN HUGHES(46) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously having in his possession a mould for coining. He had already undergone sentences of seven years' and eight years' penal servitude for offences against the coinage .—Three ears' Penal Servitude.
MR. WILKINSON offered no evidence against ELIZABETH CRONEY.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 6th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
For other cases tried in this Court on this day see Essex and Surrey Cases.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 6th, 1894
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
277. LEONARD AUGUSTUS LONGLEY(17) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing two orders for the payment of £19 17s. 5d. and £23 10s., of the Cotton Powder Company, his masters; also to forging an endorsement to a cheque for £23 10s., with intent to defraud. He received a good character.— Judgment respited
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
HENRY MUGG . I keep the Cobden's Head, Kingsland Road, Shoreditch—on February 13th, about 11.30 p.m., I served the prisoner with a glass of ale—he gave me a penny, and entered into conversation about the Crimea—he then called for a second glass, and paid me with a half crown—I thought it was a new penny, and threw it among the coppers, and shut the drawer up—he said, "Where is my change?"—I opened the drawer, and found it was a half-crown, and gave him the full change—my wife came from the parlour to the bar—John Bars, a customer, was there—I did not see the prisoner go out—I left him in conversation with my wife—I kept the coin till it was handed to the police—on February 20th I saw the prisoner brought in by Bare and my son, and recognised him as the man who had been there on the 13th—I charged him.
Cross-examined. When I came up from the cellar that evening my wife had found out that the coin was bad—the public bar was rather full, but not this bar—there were no other half-crowns in the till.
FLORENCE MUGG . I am the wife of the last witness—on 13th February I was in the bar parlour, and saw the prisoner in conversation with my husband, to whom he tendered a coin—I did not see my husband give him any change—I talked to the prisoner for ten minutes—there were no other customers in the bar where he was—when I cleared out the till I found this half-crown—on the next Tuesday, February 20th, I was in the bar parlour, and the prisoner came in about three or 3.15—I recognised him, and saw him give some coin to my son, who handed me 1s.—I put it in the tester, and it bent—I told him it was bad; he said it was not—I said, "You gave me a bad half-crown last week"—he said, "I never gave you a bad half-crown," and threw the tobacco down, and went out, taking the shilling with him—he ran out, and my son and Mr. Bare went after him—he was brought back by a constable—I have never seen the shilling since.
Cross-examined. Robert Mugg is my step-son—I saw that the coin was bad first, and then tested it—it was not bent before I tested it—there had been customers in all day—I am certain he is the man—there was nobody else in the house.
ROBERT MUGG . I am the step-son of the last witness—on February 20th, in the afternoon, I served the prisoner with one pennyworth of tobacco—he gave me 1s.—my mother spoke to me, and I gave it to her—she said to the prisoner, "This is a bad shilling, and you are the man who gave me a bad half-crown last Saturday"—he snatched the shilling from her hand, and went out quickly—I went after him, and did not lose sight of him, only when he was turning a corner.
JOHN BARS . I am a customer at this beer-house—on February 13th I was in the public bar, and saw the prisoner in the private bar; there was no one else there—I saw him go out—on the following Tuesday, the 20th, I saw him there again, and saw him run or walk out—I went after after him, caught him, and gave him in custody.
CHARLES WESTLAKE (Policeman). On February 20th I saw the prisoner, and Bars, and Robert Mugg, who said, "This man has been trying to pass a bad shilling, and father wants to see him"—I said, "You will have to come back with me"—he said he would go back, as it was a mistake—I took him to the public-house—I found nothing on him but a knife—going to the station I asked him what made him throw the shilling away—he said it was no use keeping it as it was bad—when he was charged with uttering a bad half-crown on the 13th, he said "That was not me."
GUILTY**— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Mr. W. H. C. PAYNE Prosecuted, and Mr. PURCELL Defended Ashton.
JULES BESSOM . I live at 11, Pelham Place, South Kensington—on December 31st the house was locked up safely, and my wife went to a midnight service—when she came back I let her in at the front door—I heard a noise between five and 5.30 a.m., and found the front door open and a strange pocket-book on the mat—I gave it to a policeman—the parlour window had been broken open by forcing the latch back with a chisel—I did not miss anything—Colonel Keyser lodges there, and has the drawing-room floor and the floor above—I sleep in the basement.
FREDERICK CHARLES KEYSER . I am a Colonel in the Army, and live at Mr. Bessom's house in Pelham Place—on January 1st, about 5.45 a.m., Mrs. Bessom awoke me and I missed from my dressing-room four sets of studs, three breast-pins, four or five sets of links, a medal, a silver pencilcase, three lady's rings, a jet necklace, three pairs of trousers, two coats, three waistcoats, a great coat, some underclothes, a pair of braces worked with my initials, a brush and comb, and two razors—some of them were in a portmanteau; I had brought them up from Aldershot—these razors, brushes, great coat, studs, links, underclothes, regimental scarf and two pins (produced) are mine, and this bag with my initials on it—Murray was wearing a pair of my trousers at the station and at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by Murray. There can be two pairs of trousers of the same pattern, but these are like mine; they were made by my tailor, Mr. Grant, of Brompton—the buttons are marked "Excelsior"—they do not fit you.
JOHN CONQUEST (Police Inspector). On January 25th I went with Sergeant Cox to 2, Blythe Terrace, Westminster Road, and found the two prisoners living in the top room back—I said, "We are police officers. I believe your name is Catton?"—Murray said "Yes,"—I said, "You also go by the name of Murray, don't you?"—he said "Yes"—I said, "You are wanted on a warrant from Manchester; you will have to go with us to
Earl's Court Police-station"—we took off his coat and asked him where he got it—he said that Lewis, a tailor at Manchester, made it—there were three pawn tickets in the pockets—we went to the pawnbroker's and found some of the property in the other case—he was wearing these braces belonging to Colonel Keyser, who afterwards identified the coat and trousers—we then went back to the lodging, searched and found six duplicates; two referred to clocks—Murray afterwards admitted that the property in the tickets belonged to me—these studs and jewellery were found at various pawnbrokers'—he said at the station, "I might as well make a clean breast; you will find the remainder of his property at a pawnbroker's in Long Acre, and Davidson's, in Waterloo Road, and another pawnbroker's in Waterloo Road, who I do not know the name of"—under the bed at his lodgings we found this bag, with "C. K." on it, which the colonel has identified—Ashton was there when we went back, and I said, "Do you know of any more pawn tickets?"—she said, "No, there are no others in the place, as far as I know"—I found six more; they were shown to Murray, and he said they belonged to him.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Murray was taken on January 25th, and Ashton not till January 30th—Ashton was at the Police-court when Murray was brought up next day—she produced to me two pawn tickets for underclothing of her own—she had been living with Murray for three weeks—I have traced his previous lodgings, and I know she was not living with him there—the police know nothing against her.
Cross-examined by Murray. You said that you bought the coat and some other property of a Mr. Sefton—you said, "I gave £2 for the china clock, £1 for the carriage clock, and £2 for the other things"—I took that down—you said that Sefton lived at 7, Park Street, and that was the address on the pawn tickets—I never heard that it was Park Street, Hampstead Road.
Murray's defence. I told the inspector the name and address of the man I bought them of. I sent them to pawn by my landlady in her own name, which I should not have done if I had known they were stolen. The man has got out of London since I have been arrested; if the officer had gone at once, he might have found him. He kept a butcher's shop in town some time ago, and became bankrupt, or else I should not have bought them of him.
MURRAY— GUILTY on the Second Count.
ASHTON— NOT GUILTY .
MR. PAYNE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended Ashton.
BLANCHE ISABELLA DAVIS . I live at 74, Grosvenor Road—my house was broken into on January 20th—I went to bed on the 19th, leaving the house secure, and at seven a.m. it had been broken into by the drawing-room window, and the place was in confusion—I missed articles to the
value of £20 or £30—these clothes (produced) are mine, and I have only got part of my fur back.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. This is one jacket; I got them both back—I did not see Ashton wearing my jacket at the Police-court—it is real sable.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I do not think it is real sable—I offered her a shilling for it, and she took it.
----COX (Police Sergeant). On 29th January I went with Miss Davis to 7, Blythe Terrace, Westminster Bridge Road, where Miss Davis identified a tin box—next morning I went to 2, Blythe Terrace, and saw Ashton in the same room where Murray was arrested—I said, "I have reason to believe you are now in possession of stolen property"—she said, "I have nothing"—I said, "Who do those two jackets belong to behind the door?" she said, "They are mine"—I said, "Where did you get them?"—she said, "Murray gave them to me; he also gave me some fur and an umbrella, which I sold in Shaftesbury Avenue; the fur I sold for 1s., and the umbrella for 3s." I said, "You will be charged with stealing and receiving the jackets from Grosvenor Road, Pimlico," and took her to the station—she was charged and made no reply.
Cross-examined. Murray was brought up before a Magistrate on the 26th, and I saw Ashton there wearing a jacket like one of these.
Cross-examined by Murray. You told me you were buying some things towards taking a house of your own.
Murray's defence. I had promised to give her the things, and I did so, and she honestly believed I bought them; she came and asked me in the Police-court, and I said "Yes." I plead guilty to receiving the things, not knowing they were stolen. I led her to believe I got them legitimately.
MURRAY— GUILTY of receiving. ASHTON—NOT GUILTY. There were two other indictment against the prisoners for burglary, to which MURRAY PLEADED GUILTY to receiving, and no evidence was offered against
ASHTON— NOT GUILTY .
MURRAY— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
FREDERICK MCKAY . I am a stevedore, and live at 48, Nevill's Road, Upton Park—I work for the prosecutors—on February 16th I went on board the steamship Oranmore, and looked round No. 2 and No. 3 hold—the prisoner was working in No. 3 aft—I saw a broken case about three a.m.—the ship belongs to William Johnson and Co., Limited—other men were working there.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I went down in the hold about ten
o'clock—somebody was down there all the time—I was not down there from eight to ten—you were not working when I saw it—the case was on one side of the ship and you on the other.
EDWARD MCKAY . I did live at 48, Nevill's Road—I am a stevedore in the prosecutors' service—on 16th February I was employed on the Oranmore, and in consequence of directions from my cousin, the last witness, I went to No. 2 hold—the prisoner was working in No. 3; I kept observation on him—he went to the ship's side about eight a.m., and seemed to be concealing something—I made a communication to the police—at nine a.m. I went to the hold, and saw this empty case (Produced)—one boot was left in it, which is marked "5D"—it was about ten feet from where the prisoner was working—I found other boots concealed in various parts of the deck where the prisoner was working—they are all new boots made in America—there is a corresponding mark on them—I have examined some boots which the prisoner threw into the water; they are marked exactly similar.
Cross-examined. I came down between seven and eight, but did not stop down there—you had not to work in the wing there to get the cargo out—about four men were working with you—the case was not on the same side of the deck as you were, but you could easily get at it.
GEORGE GOWIE . I live at East Ham—on December 6th I was on the Oranmore, and saw this case open—I communicated with one of the officers, who returned with me, and the boot marked "5 D" was found in it, and these cardboard boxes.
Cross-examined. I went down about nine o'clock—I went up after the case was found—I don't know whether anybody could break open the case without my hearing it—you were working on the other side.
RICHARD METCALF . I am a wharfinger, of 8, Radcliff Road—I went on board the Oranmore, and the officer had a boot in his hand—about twelve o'clock I saw someone come from the Oranmore, pass along the wing, and go towards the station—he was very bulky behind, and I communicated with Mr. McKay—besides the broken case, two cases were missing altogether—this is the bill of lading (Produced).
EDWARD WYBROW (15 Y). On February 16th I was on duty at the Tidal Basin about midday, and saw the prisoner going to pass out at the gate—I stepped into the road, and said: "Hulloa, Mr. King!"—he turned back, running into the dock—I noticed that he was bulky—I blew my whistle, and followed him behind a crane in the shunting yard, and saw him throw these four pairs of ladies' boots (produced) into the dock—they were fished out—Turner handed me an overcoat; I took it to the station.
GEORGE TURNER (Victoria Docks Police). On February 16th I was on duty, and heard a whistle, and saw Wybrow pursuing the prisoner on the other side of the dock—he came out at the gate, and I seized him—we had a violent struggle, and he went off, leaving his overcoat in my hands.
FRANCIS CRONK (573 K). I am stationed at Canning Town—on February 16th, at 1.30, I saw the prisoner in the Sidney Arms, and said "I am going to take you into custody for stealing boots"—he said, "You mean on suspicion. Can I have my coat? That is ray coat."
Prisoner's defence. I picked the boots up, and kept them, and the
remainder were found down the next hold afterwards, and some pieces of bacon.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at West Ham on February 4th, 1890, in the name of James Knight.— Six Months Hard Labour.
MR. GILL Prosecuted.
HENRY COX (City Detective Sergeant). I received a communication from Messrs. Woodhouse, colonial brokers, and went to their premises, 30, Minories—there is no watchman—it was arranged that Marriott and I should secrete ourselves in the office, which we did on February 20th, and about 10.50 I heard voices and a key being placed in the door, which opened, and someone entered and went upstairs—I waited some minutes, and then I saw Lemon coming downstairs with a bag of cocoa and a lantern—Marriott brought Horscroft into the passage—I said, "What are you doing here?"—he said, "I have a right to be here"—I said, "I shall charge you with stealing a quantity of cocoa"—Lemon said, "Yes, I am guilty"—Horscroft said, "I know nothing about it"—I saw the key in the door, and said, "How did you get it?"—he said, "I took it from the cash-box"—Lemon was a watchmen in the employ of the persons who have the Commercial Sale Rooms—he had no right to be on Messrs. Woodhouse's premises—you cannot get in there without the key, but Lemon properly held the keys of these gates.
EDWARD MARRIOTT (City Policeman). I was with the sergeant inside these premises—I heard voices outside in the passage from Mincing Lane—the door was opened, and the men went upstairs—I then went out into the passage, and saw Horscroft walking up and down whistling—I asked what right he had to be there—he said, "I have a right to be here."
ALFRED HEDLEY . I am a clerk to Messrs. Woodhouse—I lock up the premises after the other clerks have gone, and take the keys to the porter's lodge, and whoever comes first in the morning goes there and gets them—we keep a quantity of colonial samples there, and have been missing goods since May—the cocoa was seven inches deep when I measured it, and next morning six inches were missing—the outside gate was locked—even Lemon would have no right inside the place at eleven o'clock at night.
HENRY MOORE . I am housekeeper at the Commercial Sale Rooms, Mincing Lane, and live at the lodge—on the night of February 20th, Keating brought in the key, and I put it in a pigeon-hole—next morning I found the box in Sergeant Cox's possession—I had not unlocked the box—Horscroft was employed to look after some buildings—he had no business in the passage leading to the Subscription Rooms.
HORSCROFT GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard labour each.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 7th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
285. CHARLES BRAND(41), was indicted for the murder of his infant son. It was alleged that he was unfit to plead, and upon the evidence of Dr. GEORGE EDWARD WALKER, Medical Officer of Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway, the JURY found the prisoner to be insane, and not in a condition to plead to the indictment.— To be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted. Mr. MATHEWS appeared for the prisoner, and called witnesses who deposed to the prisoner's excellent character.— Three Months' Imprisonment, and to enter into recognizances and find sureties for good behaviour.
287. GEORGE EDWARD BEAGLEY(42) , for feloniously stabbing his wife. Upon the evidence of Dr. WALKER and Dr. CROSS, the JURY found the prisoner to be insane, and unfit to plead.— To be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE
WILLIAM HENRY BANKS . I am the overseer of the district post-office, Buckingham Palace Road—this envelope (produced) would be collected at the midnight collection of 4th February, and would be taken to the south-western office at Buckingham Palace Gate, where it would be stamped and retained until early on the morning of the 5th, and would be delivered about eleven.
Cross-examined. It would be posted at a pillar-box within the southwestern district, and would be taken out at twelve midnight; that would be the first collection, the next would be at 12.35—there would be no collection on the Sunday—the last collection on Saturday night would be at nine—the letter could be posted at any time before midnight on Sunday.
SIR FLEETWOOD EDWARDS . I am one of the Queen's private secretaries; Sir Henry Ponsonby is the principal secretary—on 5th February, this year, Her Majesty was at Osborne—Sir Henry Ponsonby was away from his duty on that day, and I was performing the duties attached to the secretary—among those duties I had to open the letters addressed to Her Majesty—among those which I opened between eleven and twelve that morning was the letter produced—to the best of my recollection it was contained in this envelope—I handed it to Superintendent Fraser that day.
Cross-examined. I have no doubt this is the letter I opened, or that it was in this envelope; I could not swear to the envelope apart from the letter—I have a great number of letters to open—I don't think I had any doubt about it at the Police-court.
CHARLES FRASER . I am Superintendent of the A Division of Police—I was on duty at Osborne on 5th February—about half-past twelve that morning I received this envelope and letter from Sir Fleetwood Edwards—after reading it I forwarded it to Scotland Yard.
ELI JAMES . I am an attendant at Hoxton Lunatic Asylum, Hoxton Street—the prisoner was confined as a lunatic in that asylum from February to December, 1893—I was the attendant upon him whilst he was there—he escaped from the asylum on 21st December last—I did not see him again till he was before the Magistrate—every effort was made by the authorities to trace him, but without avail—I have seen the prisoner write—I believe this letter to be in his handwriting, and the envelope as well. (Read: "93, St. George's Square, S. W. To Sir Henry Ponsonby. Unless that sneaking cur is turned out of my house, and my demands granted, and atonement made at once, the Queen must either send me to Broadmoor, or I take her life.—WINCHCOMB, an innocent and sane man.")—Among the prisoner's delusions was one that he was entitled to the Earldom of Winchcomb—he frequently signed that name.
Cross-examined. I have been in the asylum three years come next April—before that I was a private nurse—I say the writing on the envelope is the same as in the letter—when the prisoner was in the asylum he had a little dispatch-box and paper similar to that on which this letter is written, with a coronet on it—I have never seen envelopes like this about his room—I have been paper like this when he has been writing—I have not seen such paper in his dispatch box—I never looked in the box—no complaint was made to me with reference to the dispatch-box having been opened—I occasionally went out with the prisoner to places of amusement, in the former time he was there, not latterly; only about four times between May and November—I believe he made some complaint as to my treatment of him.
(Re-examined). That complaint was made to Mr. Wood—it was during the time he was writing that I saw paper similar to this, with the coronet on it, and the "W.," and also on the envelopes.
JOHN WALSH . I am a sergeant in the Detective Department, Scotland Yard—on the 12th February, about half-past two, I went to St. George's Square, Pimlico—I saw the prisoner come out of No. 93—I followed him as far as Victoria Station, I then stopped him; I told him I was a police officer, and should arrest him on a warrant for threatening to kill Her Majesty the Queen—he replied, "I don't understand this. I don't want to kill the Queen; why should I want to kill the Queen? This is another get up." I took him in a cab to Bow Street Police-station—he was there charged—when the charge was read over to him by the Inspector he said, "It is false."—he went to St. George's Square at the latter end of January—his mother resides there, and he was there for three weeks—at Bow Street he wanted to send three telegrams—I gave him some forms, and he wrote these two—I saw him write them—they were given to a solicitor's clerk to take away.
Cross-examined. When I arrested him he said, "I did not want to kill the Queen "—he may have said, "I never threatened to kill the Queen"—he went to his mother's house about the 14th or 15th January, and as far as I know was living there up to his arrest.
and am medical superintendent of Hoxton Asylum, where the prisoner was in confinement between February and December last—he escaped from the asylum on 21st December—during the time he was at the asylum I had frequent opportunities of seeing him write, and I received from him a great number of letters—I am perfectly familiar with his handwriting—the letter and envelope produced are both in his handwriting—during the time he was with me I had a great many opportunities of seeing him and conversing with him—he was insane during the whole time he was with me—he had delusions; among them was the delusion that he was entitled to call himself Earl of Winchcomb and Viscount Falconhurst, and that there was a great sum of money owing to him, over seventy millions sterling, the amount mentioned was seventy-five millions, that he was the victim of injustice at the hands of Her Majesty the Queen; that she had interposed in some way between him and what he considered to be his rights—I had opportunities of seeing the kind of paper and envelopes that he used—this (produced) is a letter I received from him under date 20th October last—I do not say that the make of the paper is precisely the same; it has the earl's coronet, and is the same stamp and dye. (Letter read: "October 28th. To J. F. Wood, Esq. Referring to my remarks yesterday, my mother is the paymaster here, and that being so, I must., by God, be treated as she and I wish. I demand a latchkey at once; if you dare to take orders from commoners or anyone else I shall bring this house before the House of Commons. I am determined to prosecute two of your assistants. The Queen's life is not worth a penny until she treats me properly, and meets my demands.—Yours truly, WINCHCOMB. I take no food from this house till I have a latchkey and £2,000 promised in March.")—those other two letters (produced) are in the handwriting of the prisoner.
CHARLES DEANS . I am chief clerk in the office of the Lunacy Commissioners—I produce the two letters which have been identified by Mr. Wood—they were both received by the Lunacy Commissioners. (Read: "28th February, 1893. To G. H. Erlston. Take notice, I am fully swindled of liberty and money from the Equity and Law Insurance Company. I have not received one penny of my rent. I swear I owe them nothing. I will shoot the Queen at all costs.—Signed, WINCHCOMB.")—the other letter also complained in the same way, and stated, "If any attempt is made against ray wish I will do for the Queen"—this was also signed Winchcomb.
MR. WOOD (Recalled). There was a complaint against Eli James of his treatment of the prisoner by the prisoner himself—I investigated the complaint, and the result was that there was no foundation for it—it is not unusual for such complaints to be made by patients against their attendants—the prisoner said that his dispatch-box had been broken open in his absence—I investigated the complaint—the box was found locked—after his escape every effort was made to effect his re-capture—we knew where he was, but we could not get him back—I did not see him again till he was in custody on this charge—on 12th February, this year, I made an examination of him, in company with Dr. Walker and Dr. Nicholson, and I arrived at the conclusion that he was insane—in February, 1892, he came as a paying patient—he was not received under an ordinary order—he
was transferred from another asylum—when he escaped he went to Lord Clifton at Ramsgate, and he stayed there fourteen days; I knew he was there—whilst he was with me he required constant attention and supervision, so that he should do no harm to himself or others.
By the COURT. We could not apprehend him when he was with Lord Clifton, because we were unable to get a warrant to search the house—I asked for a warrant from the police, and I was told one could not be granted.
Cross-examined. Four guineas and a half a week was paid by his mother when he was a paying patient—he sometimes had his dinner or meals out of the institution—I knew where he was two or three days after his escape—I did not see him write the letter that has been put in—I have seen him write several times in his room—I did not know that his dispatch-box shuts with a spring—James said nothing to me about the box having a spring; I made the investigation myself—I have not seen paper and envelopes lying about his room similar to those produced—I think I made the inquiry the same day the complaint was made—he made other complaints about James—I investigated all the complaints—he was out nearly every day, and occasionally went to theatres and places of amusement—he was always allowed out with an attendant—during one of those occasions I do not know that James lost sight of him, and came home without him—I believe James to be a strictly temperate man—the prisoner was never out without an attendant, but on 21st December last he went out with Oliver; on that occasion he went to a solicitor's office, and it was from there he managed to escape—he generally had the money to pay for what he had when he went out.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am medical officer of H. M. Prison at Holloway—the prisoner has been detained there, and under my observation since 12th February—on 20th February, in conjunction with Dr. Nicholson and Dr. Wood, I made an examination of the prisoner as to his mental condition—I have heard the description given by them, and entirely agree with it.
Cross-examined. I had conversation with him on several occasions—he has made statements about the Queen—he has said he has no designs against the Queen—all he wanted was to go home and be at peace.
Re-examined. My knowledge of the prisoner does not date from this year—he was under my charge when I was medical officer at Chatham Prison, from 1887 to 1891—he was then removed to Broadmoor on my certificate—I considered him insane—he was then suffering from delusions of persecution—I did not consider him insane until 1891—he was eccentric, but not actually insane from 1887 to 1891—he was undergoing a sentence of five years' penal servitude—when he first came in to the prison there was no suggestion of his being insane—he was placed under my observation, but I was unable to detect that he was insane at the time—the delusions did not come on till a few weeks before he was removed to Broadmoor.
DR. DAVID NICHOLSON . I am principal medical superintendent at Broadmoor Lunatic Asylum—the prisoner was under my charge there from May, 1891, down to the 2nd January, 1892, and on the expiration of his sentence he was moved under an order made in conformity with the Criminal Lunatic Act of 1894 to the lunatic asylum at Barnham Heath,
Kent—I have the order under which he was removed to Barnham Heath—on the 20th February this year, in conjunction with Dr. Wood and Dr. Walker, I made an examination of the prisoner, and I agree with them in the conclusion that he is insane.
GEORGE SMITH INGLIS . I am an expert in handwriting, of 8, Red lion Square, Holborn—I have been so employed for a great number of years by the Treasury and others to give evidence—I have had placed before me the letter and envelope of 5th February this year, and for the purposes of comparison a number of letters addressed to the Lunacy Commissioners and to Mr. Wood, also the two telegrams—in my opinion they are all written by one and the same individual.
Cross-examined. I say that the letter and envelope of the 5th are written by the same person—that is my firm belief—I am as certain of it as a belief can go—I was employed by the Treasury last summer at Cardiff and Exeter—also in the case of Neil Cream—in that case my opinion was contradicted as to two letters out of twenty—I did not give evidence on the Parnell Commission.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am not aware you have proved any charge against me. Absolutely I deny writing the letter; it is an undated letter. I deny writing that letter since my escape. If it was written by me it was written in duresse."
Witnesses for the Defence.
MRS. CARTER. I reside at 93, St. George's Square—the prisoner is my son—he was in a private asylum at Hoxton for which I paid £4 10s. a week—he came to me on 22nd January, and remained with me until the time of his arrest on the 3rd February—on the 3rd February he was at home the whole day, in the house—I was in the whole day—there were servants in the house, Mrs. Woolmer and her daughter—on the Sunday he was in the house the whole day with me—on the Sunday and on the Saturday.
Cross-examined. He never left the house on those days—he came to me on the 22nd—I don't remember whether he went out on the 23rd or on the 24th—on the Saturday and Sunday he was at home both days; he never left my presence—I think we were together the whole day, as much as two persons could be living in the same house—I don't think he was very much out of my presence on Saturday, the 3rd—I was indoors—I was not doing anything in particular that I recollect—I was in the front dining-room with him the greater part of the day—a few minutes he was in his own sitting-room—there is a letter-box near my house, within ten or fifteen yards—on the Sunday he was certainly not absent from me an hour, nor, I should say, half an hour; very likely only five minutes—I ordinarily go to bed between ten and eleven—he always went to bed early, before me, invariably—I believe we were in the front dining-room the whole evening—I can hardly say whether he was in his own sitting-room part of the time; he was either there or in the dining-room—his sitting-room was at the back—he went there to read, I suppose—I did not always follow him into his room; I did not time his absence by the clock.
Re-examined. I keep a rough diary—on the afternoon of February 3rd he was washing a large Skye terrier, which took a very long time, and occupied him nearly the whole evening, down to seven o'clock, when he
came to dinner—but he was so very ill, and so knocked up by the fatigue of washing the dog, that he fainted at the dinner table—he went to bed about nine on the Saturday evening—he had to be assisted—he fainted, and laid back in his chair—on the Sunday he was looking over some books with me—his sitting-room is further from the door than the dining-room—I think he had a latch-key, I can't say whether he always wore it.
ALYSS WOOLMER . I am housekeeper to Mrs. Carter—I know the prisoner as her son—he was living with her at 93, St. George's Square, from January 5th until February 11th—on Saturday, 3rd, and Sunday, 4th February, he did not go out all day—on the Sunday he was all day with Mrs. Carter, looking over books—I did not see him go out on Saturday—on Saturday afternoon he was in his bedroom; he went to bed early—I was downstairs and upstairs during the day—I saw him in the morning—I had my ordinary duties to perform, which kept me in the basement.
MR. MATHEWS Recalled—
JOHN WALSH . During the time the prisoner was living at 93, St. George's Square, a watch was kept on the house—on Saturday and Sunday, 3rd and 4th, I was there from about eight a.m. to half-past seven p.m. both days, and for some days prior—after the prisoner was in custody, he said he had been out on the Saturday evening about eight, and came back about ten—I did not see him come out—I saw him come to the door on Sunday morning about half-past eight with a dog.
GUILTY of writing the letter, but being insane at the time.— To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure ,
MR. MATHEWS stated that the prisoner had been convicted in 1887 of shooting at two bailiffs, and sentenced to five years' penal servitude.
MR. A. GILL, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. MARSHALL Defended.
HENRY TURNER . I am a waiter—I have known the prisoner for some time—in December last his wife was keeping a beer-house in Cambridge Heath Road—I was in the habit of going there from time to time as a customer—I have seen the prisoner there—I have seen him quarrel with his wife several times, and I tried to stop it; I interfered, rather, on behalf of the wife—on 8th December I was there, when she and the prisoner were there, and I was assaulted by the prisoner and four more men with quart pots, and I was sent to the hospital, and was there four weeks from the injury—it was the prisoner that struck me with the pot; they all set on me—he never said anything; the first intimation I had was being set upon—towards the end of December I was in the Gun and Tent public-house—I was assaulted there by a number of men—the prisoner was one of them—he had a large stick; I got it out of his hand
—the police came, and he ran away—I was struck twice by the prisoner, and next day I complained to the Magistrate at the Thames Police-court—on 27th February, about half-past eleven, I was in the tap-room of the Lord Nelson—I was sitting watching them playing cards, and the prisoner jumped into the room and seized me, saying, "I have got you now," and with that I saw a flash and felt a stinging sensation in the jaw—I shut my eyes, and did not feel it take much effect on me at the time—I ran after him, and the prisoner, too—the bullet went through my jaw into my neck, and it has not come out—it is supposed to be embedded in the muscle of the neck—I should not think the pistol was more than four or five inches away from my flesh when he fired.
Cross-examined. I have no situation at present—my last place was in Palatine Road, Stoke Newington—all last summer, until August, I lived at the place with my wife and two children—I did not know the prisoner then—I have known him since about October—I met him in the house that his wife kept, the British Crown, a small beer-house in Cambridge Heath Road—she held the license—I don't know what he did—I was not a regular customer there—I called in occasionally, sometimes two or three days running—I never took the wife out on Sundays, or talked familiarly to her over the bar—when she served me, I said "Thank you"—I was not attacked by the prisoner in October—the first attack was in December—I can't assign any reason for it, only that he had quarreled with his wife and I interfered between them—he was knocking her about in the house with his fist, and threw pots at her—she screamed out "Murder!" and other people did as I did, did the best to stop it—I did nothing to him, only kept him away from his wife—he calmed down then, and was quiet—I don't know where she was hit—he did not hit me on that occasion—I interfered because I did not like to see man and wife row—it was quite serious enough for any man of common-sense to interfere—the house was about two minutes' walk from where I was living—I work at the docks occasionally, or anywhere—it was on the 22nd December that he attacked me—I was walking in, and he made a hit at me with a big stick—I don't know whether his wife is still keeping a public-house—I saw her not long ago outside the Court—on 22nd February I was in the house about three hours—the prisoner sprang through the door, put up his hand, and I saw the flash of the pistol—I ran after him—I did not knock him down or kick him—I saw his wife just now outside—I never took her out for a walk.
Re-examined. The beer-house was shut up in December: I don't know why; I believe by the police.
ARTHUR LEDGER (Policeman). On the 27th February, about half-past eleven, I was on duty outside the Lord Nelson—I heard a disturbance, and went to the house, and saw the prisoner in the hold of Turner, who told me he had been shot—I then took the prisoner into custody—he had a pistol in his hand in his pocket—I took it out, and produce it—I took him to the station—the prosecutor charged him with shooting and attempting to murder him—he said, "I meant to do it"—I searched him, and found four lead bullets, and one empty one in the pistol—I examined the pistol, and found in it a similar cartridge, which had been discharged.
before twelve, midnight—I found a star-shaped wound on the right side of the lower jaw, with inverted edges, of the depth of from one-half to three-quarters of an inch—the wound punctured the soft parts at right angles with the body—I was unable to detect the bullet—if it had been in another part of the body or head it might have been dangerous—I have seen the pistol and the pellets—the wound might be caused by one of those, but owing to its position it was not dangerous.
A witness gave the prisoner a good character.
GUILTY on the Second Count. An Inspector stated that the prisoner was a violent man, and that the police had several times been called to the house to eject him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 7th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. T. MATHEW Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
ALBERT GOUGH . I am clerk to Mr. Knox, a barrister, of 6, Pump Court, Temple—on Thursday, February 8th, I placed nine sovereigns in a bank paper bag in a cupboard in a kind of dresser in a room which is only used by the laundress—there is a drawer above the cupboard, and if you take the drawer out you can put your hand into the cupboard, but I did not know that then—I locked the cupboard, and next day at five p.m. I went to it, and the bag was gone—next day, Friday, I communicated with the police, and sent for the prisoner, who is the laundress's husband, the charwoman who attends to the chambers—the prisoner came, and I asked him if anybody had been in the chambers while he and his wife were there—he said "No, me and my wife were there all the time"—I leave after my master leaves—I lock up, and the laundress has the keys—the office-boy also has a key.
Cross-examined. I get there at 9.50 or ten a.m.—the laundress has generally left then, but they were both there on this Friday morning—the office boy very seldom comes earlier than I—he came after me on this Friday morning—he is about fifteen years old—I went out in the middle of the day for half an hour—the junior stops in while I am out.
By the JURY. I had been in the habit of putting money in that cupboard, but in a little box—the prisoner has not seen me go there for money, but his wife has when I have paid her her wages, 5s. a week, and about 3d. for wood—she is laundress in several other chambers.
with his wife, and saw them both on the first floor—I said, "I am a police officer. I have called to make inquiries respecting nine sovereigns stolen from 6, Pump Court, Temple, on Friday"—he said, "What is it you want?"—I said, I want to know why you did not accompany your wife to the chambers this morning?"—he said, "Because I was at work"—I said,. "Where?"—he said, "At Wynam's"—I said, "What is the name of the foreman?"—he asked his wife to leave the room, and then he said, "I was in a whore-shop; I do not want my wife to know"—I said, "I shall take you in custody"—he said, "I will make somebody pay for this, I had two winners; I gave my wife 5s."—he was taken to the station, and said, "I can prove my innocence"—I found only did. not him, but I did not look in his hat.
BENJAMIN MARTIN (Detective Officer). On February 17th, I was left in charge of the prisoner at Bridewell Station—he dozed off to sleep—his hat fell off, and a sovereign rolled out of it—I picked it up, and said, "Do you know what fell out of your hat?"—he made no reply—I said, "It is a sovereign"—he said, "Yes, I won it at a race last week; keep it, and say nothing about it"—I said, "I shall do nothing of the kind."
EMMA COLLINS . I am the wife of Augustus Collins, a bookbinder—I have known the prisoner about eighteen months—on Friday morning, February 16th, I met him by arrangement at the foot of Blackfriars Bridge, about 11.30—he said he had had a run of luck, and had won some money, and handed me five sovereigns—we went for a walk up King William Street, and from there we went to buy things—we bought a jacket, a hat, and a silk handkerchief, which he paid for out of the money he had handed to me—we went to a place of amusement that evening, and spent the night together—he paid for the room out of the £5—he left me in the Norman a short time on the Saturday, and came back again between one and two—we spent the afternoon together, and he left me in the evening.
Cross-examined. I put the money in a purse—he paid for refreshment and amusement out of the puree—when he left me I had £1 left—he handed it to me, and I handed it back again—he said he would lay it out on me—I do not know the actual amount he spent on me—he first bought a purse for 3s. 6d. out of the £5 he had given me—he had all the money back—we had some drink and sandwiches, which came to a few shillings—he then bought me a hat for 10s. and a jacket for 12s., paying out of the £5; also a ring for £1s., boots 7s. 6d., and a silver brooch and ear-rings for 4s.—we spent the evening at the Alhambra—I cannot say whether he paid 2s. each or Is.; he paid 1s. for a cab to go to the house, and half a crown at the house, and then he bought the umbrella, and there was £1 left.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted.
WALTER WILLIAM PERKINS . I am a baker, of 25, Portland Place—on January 26th, at 6.30, I was on Blackfriars Bridge, and saw the prisoner run and jump up on a seat and have a look over and put her foot on the parapet—I caught hold of her, but could not get her back—she could
not have got back by herself—another man came up, and the two of us pulled her back—she had two children with her in a perambulator, and one at the side; they were all crying.
The prisoner. I did not say I was the mother of the children; I meant that I was taking charge of them.
REUBEN CHURCH (City Policeman). On January 26th, at 6.30, I was fetched to Blackfriars Bridge, and found the prisoner on the pavement crying very much, and three children and a perambulator on the pavement—I asked her what she did it for—she said she had lost her way.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. It was stated that the prisoner's mother had been dead six or seven years, and her father had married again, and she had no home.— Three Years in a Reformatory.
MR. ORMSBY Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended
FREDERICK WILLIAM RUTHERFORD .—I am twenty-two years of age—on September 13th I saw an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph. (This was for a clerk in a newspaper office, and to collect accounts, and stating that a deposit of £50 would be required as security)—I replied, and received this letter signed "Emanuel." (This was on paper headed" Stock Exchange Times, established 1886, editorial department," requesting the witness to call the next morning at 9.30)—in consequence of that I called next morning at St. Helen's Chambers, Bishopsgate—there was a brass plate on the door with Stock Exchange Times on it—I saw the prisoner—he said he wanted a clerk, as his previous clerk had opened letters and abstracted money, and therefore he required £50 security—he said that my duty would be to collect accounts and address newspapers, and the general office work, and that he was editor and proprietor of the Stock Exchange Times, the circulation of which was 11,000 to 13,000 a week—he gave me references, and I called on one gentleman and went back, and said I was satisfied and would deposit the £50 next day, which I did by cheque, and an agreement was signed. (The receipt stated that the £50 was as cash security, and a letter from the prisoner was put in, stating that he would pay 5 percent, interest on the £50)—the cheque was paid—it was not my cheque, it was Bathwick and Co.'s—I stayed till December 24th—I was paid my wages for the first four weeks, and part of the fifth—the paper was never published while I was there—I had to keep lists of shareholders, and I collected two accounts of £3 2s. 6d. and £2 2s.—he wanted me to put £200 into the business—I saw no preparations for the publication of the paper—I wrote to him giving him notice of my leaving, and received this reply. (Expressing regret at his leaving, and stating that he would speak to the directors about the return of the deposit money)—I have never had my money back—I obtained a summons on January 18th—one reference was W. Bagot Harte, a solicitor, who cross-examined me at the Police-court.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS I was in his office five or six minutes; he did not tell me much about Emanuel—I thought it was satisfactory enough, and that is why I paid the money—I took out the summons about January 30th; I had seen a solicitor—after that I met the prisoner by appointment; that was before the hearing at the Police-court—he made
a suggestion about paying the money—I saw him with Mr. Bonner, who was negotiating to buy the paper—there was a proposition that if the paper was bought Mr. Bonner should pay me the money which Emanuel owed me—the letter says, "Dear Sir, I am duly in receipt of your favour, and shall have pleasure in handing over £75 on the sale of the Stock Exchange Times"—the prisoner offered me £10 in cash, and two bills, amounting to £60—I said "I shall be glad to get my money back, but I must consult my solicitor"—that was after I took the summons out—I understood that the paper had gone altogether—I stopped there three months—the prisoner did a good deal of business at home, writing for papers—I have seen copies, of the paper in the office, but not outside—I waited there three months, and expected it to come out every week—the prisoner's business had a good deal to do with the Stock Exchange—I know by the files in the office that the paper has been published—the last issue was on August 5th—I never saw anyone come to the office about the paper—he always informed me that my money was safe in the bank in Kilburn—he said he could pay me, but he should have to draw on my money, which was with his wife's. money, which he was unwilling to take—I do not believe my money would have been paid if I had not taken criminal proceedings, but he has told me so—I hoped to make some money out of the business—he gave me a tip, and I bought some shares, and made about £10 by them—there were other tips; I did not make money by then all—I did not think of putting some money into the business; I had it, but I have not got it now; I lost it in Stock. Exchange speculations quite recently—that has nothing to do with the prisoner—I had never done anything at the Stock Exchange before I went to the prisoner—I told Mr. Bagot Harte that Mr. Emanuel wanted a clerk, and wanted £50 cash deposit—he said he knew Mr. Emanuel, and knew him to be an honest, upright man, and he was good for £10 or £15 a week out of the paper, and was doing an advertising business as well—he did not tell me, to my recollection, that he did not think the prisoner had much money—he did not say that the business might be worked up with care—he said nothing about being prepared to lose my money—all I remember is that he said the prisoner was a safe man to go to.
Re-examined. I was only at Mr. Harte's office five or six minutes—there was very little conversation between us—the prisoner told me that the paper was going to come out, I understood, that very week—he told me that before I parted with my money; he said it was a good bona fids newspaper, published weekly—I did not find out that it was not published till I went into his office.
By the COURT. I was cross-examined at the Police-court by Mr. B. Harte—I did not take the advertisement to his office, but I referred to it.
MR. SANDS called
WILLIAM BAGOT HARTE . I am a solicitor, of 37, Walbrook—I have been in practice since 1878—I have known the prisoner six or eight years—I have acted as his solicitor in several actions, and have received several sums of money for him—I conducted a case for him in June, in the Mayor's Court—he was managing the Stock Exchange Times, and acting as an advertising agent, and I knew he must have been making £8 or
£10 a week out of his agency—I thought he was in a fairly decent position; he has had up and downs—he has a large family living at Tavistock Terrace, Westbourne Park—the prosecutor called on me last September, and stopped in my office five or ten minutes—he did not show me an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph, and I am pretty certain I did not know that the prisoner had advertised for a clerk with £50 security—the prosecutor said he thought of putting £50 into Emanuel's business, or was going to give him £50, and asked me if I considered him straightforward and honest—I said, "Yes," I had known him some years—he asked me about putting £50 into the business—I said, "Is it all the money you have got because if it is don't put it in, because it is only a speculation "—he did not mention the Stock Exchange Time, but I have seen copies of it—he asked me what was Mr. Emuanel's position—I said, "I know some little time ago he was making £10 a week; he had a very good connection among brokers for advertising"—he said he had got a good deal more than that, and he did not mind going in for gambling.
By the COURT. I had no idea that he only came there about an advertisement for a clerk—I believe I said before the Magistrate that he brought the advertisement, and showed it to me, but, on looking at the advertisement, I found that I had not seen it before—I defended the prisoner at the Police-court, but I was not there on the first occasion—the advertisement was handed up to the Court, and I looked at it—I understood that the money was to be paid to Emanuel to go into a partnership in the paper, or to put it down as security for his honesty, and I said, "Any money you give Emanuel he is sure to use in his business"—I told him it would not be put absolutely on a deposit account.
By MR. SANDS. When the prosecutor came to me I understood him to ask was Mr. Emanuel honest, and was he making any money—he said he was going to advance it, or give it to Emanuel—he did not tell me in what capacity, and I did not ask him, because I did not think he would do it—I did not approve of it—if people want a guarantee, they ought to go to the Guarantee Society.
Cross-examined. I know now that there is a County Court judgment out against him; I did not know it then—Rutherford said that he did not mind going in for a gamble—I did not use those words before the Magistrate, but the impression on my mind is that he said "gamble" or "speculation"—I have not a very clear remembrance—no one can remember Clearly what took place six months before.
By the COURT. Clerks do not generally put money into the business where they are employed—first of all I acted as a reference—other people came to me; they did not put any money in—I wish the Jury to believe that I told Rutherford it was a speculation—I acted as reference, and then as solicitor to the defence, and having cross-examined him as to facts, I go in to the witness box; I never did so before—I cross-examined him for some considerable time, although I was not going to contradict him, because I thought there would be Counsel employed—he did not state that I was the reference he went to till I cross-examined him myself, "Was not I the reference?"—that was the first time it came up—I said that the £50 he was going to put in was a pure speculation—he is about 21 or 22—I said, "Is that all your money? if so don't go into it"—what I understood was that Mr. Emanuel wanted to sell a share—I cannot
say whether I told him that the £50 would be a pure loan on his part—I acted as his solicitor last year, and yet I did not know that he had a County Court judgment against him—I said before the Magistrate that I thought he brought the advertisement with him; I think I made a mistake—the advertisement had been handed up to the Magistrate, and I knew that it was for a clerk in a newspaper office—I was rather surprised—as a solicitor I certainly knew the difference between taking a situation as clerk and putting £50 into a business—I signed this: "The complainant showed me the advertisement, and I pointed out to him" so and so, but I believe that was a mistake—I only wish to say what is true.
GUILTY . A large number of the Jurors considered that the action of the solicitor was reprehensible. Sergeant Outram stated that the prisoner had been convicted at this Court, in the name of Coleman of a libel, for the purpose of obtaining money.— Judgment respited.
MR. TODD Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
WALTER MOUNTFORD SMITH . I live at 157, New North Road, and am a sub-postmaster—on February 7th I went to bed about eleven o'clock, and saw the house secure—my son came up and told me something at 3.30—I dressed, and got a police whistle—I found the kitchen window open and the gas alight—I saw the prisoner under the kitchen table—I seized him, and gave my—son the whistle—he went to the door and blew it—a constable came, and I gave him in custody—the crockery had been moved from the kitchen window.
Cross-examined. He was not partially asleep—the gas was dimly alight, and I turned it up—I saw no sign or smell of drink on him—the plates were found in the garden—the washhouse window was broken, but he could not unfasten it—he then went to the kitchen—he struggled to rise, but I prevented him doing so.
WILLIAM KEAN (Police Sergeant). On February 8th, about 3.45, I heard cries for assistance, and the prosecutor's son took me into the kitchen, where I found the prisoner, and handed him over to a constable—three windows were broken—when charged at the station, he said he admitted breaking the windows, but he came in at the door, and he had not got any pals.
Cross-examined. I did not say, "Have you got a pal?"—I did not notice that he smelt of drink—I had hold of him going to the station—he was sober—there were some plates in the garden on the mould, two, yards from the kitchen window—there is only one window in the kitchen, and two of the panes were broken—he got in at the lower pane—it is very small—he could not have got through with his coat on.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Leicester in February, 1889, when he was sentenced to five years' penal servitude, and other convictions were proved against him .—Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. KEELING, for the prosecution proceeded on the Second Count only.
ALFRED MOLE . I am a clerk, and lodge with Miss Irwin at 2, Applegarth Road, Brook Green—on 9th February I went to bed at eleven o'clock, and next morning missed an overcoat and a box of cigars from my room—this is the coat (Produced)—the cigars have not been recovered.
MARY IRVINE . I occupy 2, Applegarth Road—on February 10th I got up at 6.45, and went down and saw a light in the kitchen, which was out when I went to bed the night before—the front door was open three inches; I had bolted and barred it the night before—I went up to Mr. Mole's room, and then called my nephew—all my boxes and papers had been routed about—this coat was safe the night before—Mr. Mole left it on the sofa—they had gone out by the back—I think they got in at the front, because there was a good deal of mud on the mat—they could not have got in without a latch-key.
GEORGE HENRY SELL . I am assistant to Mr. Thompson, a pawnbroker—on February 14th this coat was brought to me by a woman named Wakeman—I kept it, but did not take it in pledge—I communicated with the police.
MARY WAKEMAN . I live at 57, St. Catherine's Road—the prisoners lived in my house, she two years, and he two months—they lived together—they were both in bed together, and she gave me this coat, and asked me to pawn it—I took it to Mr. Thompson's, and Sell detained it—I went back to the house and told them, and Clark said he would go down himself, and he came back and said he had been, and I took no more notice of it—I was net there when Clark gave Kane 6s. to buy a coat—they were arrested in my house.
G. H. SELL (Re-examined). Neither of the prisoners came to the shop.
ROBERT MARKHAM (Police Sergeant C). On February 14th I went to 57, St. Catherine's Road, where the prisoners lived, with Inspector Morgan, and told Clark I should take him in custody for breaking into 2, Applegarth Road on Friday night, and stealing a coat and other articles—he said, "I bought the coat of a man; I do not know who he is "—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no reply.
CLARK'S DEFENCE. I was standing at the door and a young man asked me if I wanted to buy a coat. I asked him how much he wanted for it. He said 7s. I said, "I will give you 6s." When the landlord sent for the rent on the Wednesday, I sent the woman to pawn the coat.
Kane's defence. On Saturday he came up and asked me for 6s., and I gave it to him.
CLARK— GUILTY of receiving. He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this Court on June 27th, 1892.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
KANE— NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 7th, 1894
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
298. CALEB KING PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for stealing 4s. and other sums, the moneys of his master, Frederick Charles Newsom. The prisoner's brother became surety for him, and promised to find him employment.— Discharged on recognizances.
300. WALTER HENRY SCOTT , to converting to his own use two sums of £60 each, entrusted to him as agent and broker by Frederick Young, with directions in writing to apply them to a certain purpose.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. WILLIS, for the Prosecution,. recommended the prisoner to mercy, believing that he was led to commit the offence by others, and that the would give information.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] One Week's Imprisonment.
MR. J. A. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
JOHN WILSON . I am a carpenter—on Sunday night, 18th February, I came out of the Bluecoat Boy, and three or four lads put me against the wall, and said they would brick me—they put their hands in my pockets and took what there was—I cannot say what there was—I cannot identify the prisoners—I was in drink—a second attack was made upon me, and my head was cut open, and I lost all consciousness—I was taken to the station-house, and my head was bound up—I had a very bad leg where they kicked me—I have not been able to follow my employment since—I am sure I had some money in my pocket—when I recovered I had none.
JAMES MASSINGHAM (79 H). About 11.50 p.m. on Sunday, 18th February, I was in Dorset Street, Spitalfields, and I saw the three prisoners: and another man, not in custody, on the top of the prosecutor—one of them shouted out, "Copper," and they got off the prosecutor, and ran down Dorset Street—Dine was stopped by Holland—I came up, and I heard Dine say, "If you let me go I will show you where the others are"—we went to the rear of No. 9, Dorset Street, and to the w.c.—the door was shut—I opened it—Smith was inside—I recognised him as one of the men whom I had seen on the prosecutor—I said, "Is that one of them?"—Dine said, "Yes"—I and Holland took Smith and Dine into custody; we took them into the street, and the prosecutor said, "That is two of them, and I don't know the other two"—they were taken to the station and searched—no money was found on them—about 5.20 on the 20th I saw Knox in the custody of Smart in Commercial Street, and I said he was the one wanted with the two others in custody—Knox made no reply—I recognised him as one of the men I had seen on the prosecutor.
Cross-examined by Dine. I should not have known where to find Smith if you had not shown me—you said, "I will show you where the
others are" not, "I saw two boys running in the yard, and I will show you where they are."
Cross-examined by Knox. I saw you run away from the prosecutor.
Re-examined. I knew all three prisoners before by sight—I have seen them standing outside the lodging-house day after day—when I saw them on the top of the prosecutor I recognised them as youths I knew by sight—Dine took me to the closet where Smith was.
ALBERT HOLLAND (435 H). I was with Massingham on 18th February in Dorset Street at 11.45, and turning the corner we saw, about fifteen or sixteen yards from us, the prisoners and another man on the top of the prosecutor—the prisoners were strangers to me at that time—I picked out Knox from among seven others at the Police-court on the 22nd.
Cross-examined by Smith. I came to the w.c. for you because you went there to hide.
Cross-examined by Knox. Another constable did not tell me to pick you out, pointing to you.
THOMAS SMART (165 H). On 20th February, about 5.30, I saw Knox—when he saw me coming up the passage of the lodging-house in Dorset Street he ran away—I chased and caught him—I told him he answered the description of a man wanted for assault and robbery on the 18th in Dorset Street—he said, "Oh, I did not know who was behind me"—on the way to the station I met Massingham, who said, "That is the man I want with the other two in custody for assault and robbery"—next morning he was put with seven others, and Holland identified him—I did not see Holland then—all the prisoners knew me.
Cross-examined by Knox. You did not have a chance to run far from me—you were not laughing when I had you.
Smith called the following witnesses.
JOHN ARUNDEL . I am manager of Edinboro' Chambers, 9, Dorset Street, a common lodging-house—about 10.50 on Sunday, 18th February, I saw the prosecutor and a woman standing outside the Bluecoat Boy public-house, directly opposite to me—they were both drunk—they went to move, and both fell down in the gutter—the prosecutor struck the side of his head against the kerb as he fell—some men picked the woman up and put her on a doorstep, and they picked up the prosecutor—I called a friend to come and look at the scene, which is very often seen in that neighbourhood; there are plenty of drunken men there—the prosecutor was bleeding at the time—he reeled round, and stood against a wall for about ten minutes, and then came and asked me to let him have a bed—I knew him, as he had lodged with me on several occasions—I said, "No, you had better go to the hospital and have your head dressed; I cannot let you have a bed; you are saturated with blood"—he said, "Am I?"—I said, "Yes, I cannot let you have a bed"—he sat down on a form in the kitchen for about ten minutes, and then my watchman led him out, and he left about 11.15—about twelve or 12.10 Dine and Smith, who lodged at my lodging-house, were larking in the kitchen, and I came to Dine and got hold of him, and said, "If you don't leave off larking I will put you outside," and I shoved him outside the door—Holland, who was outside the door, seized him, and said, "I think you are one of them"—and with that he used the boy something terrible for about ten minutes, hit him, and kicked him all over the road; he was all
over blood—he hit the boy about the face with his fist, and then he got hold of him by the back of his neck, jobbing his head down, and lifting up his knee, so that his face was brought into violent contact with his knee, as his head was bent down, several times—the boy was saturated in blood from his nose; I mean, that his face was quite covered with blood from his nose—this continued for quite two or three minutes—I looked on—I kept on saying to the constable, "Now leave off; he has had enough"—Newman, a friend of mine, was looking on too, and I could have brought thirty witnesses who saw the assault, but no one else besides Newman is here—Holland kept loosing his hold, and the boy kept on saying, "I have done nothing"—if he had wanted to run away he had plenty of time—when the boy stood still, then Holland laid hold of him Again—I know Holland well—on Monday evening the prosecutor came to me, and I said, "How did the boys get on?"—I did not go to the Police-court to tell the Magistrate of this assault, because Monday is a busy day—Newman did not go to the Police-court, nor did any of the people who saw it—I never tried to persuade any of them to go—I thought the boys had done nothing, and would be discharged—I was shocked at seeing the way in which the boy was ill-used—when I asked the prosecutor on the Monday how the boys got on he said, "The little fools would not speak for themselves, or else they would have got off; I don't recollect anything myself"—I said, "No, certainly, you were too drank"—I never heard anything on the night of the assault and robbery—I first heard on the Sunday night from the constable (Holland) of the robbery—he said, "I think you are one of them who have been robbing and assaulting the man"—he did not say who the man was who was robbed, but I went out to look, and I saw the prosecutor standing up the street—I did not see him robbed—I never learnt from anyone on the Sunday night who it was who was robbed—I saw the prosecutor about twenty to twenty-five yards off, alone; he was too drunk to tell me—I saw the prosecutor on the Sunday night when he was going to the Police-station with the constables, after the boy was in custody—I did not then inquire whether he was the person who had been robbed; I guessed it was him because he was going with the constables—I did not go to the station and tell the inspector what I knew, because if I took notice of all I saw I should have enough to do—as I turned Dine out of the door Holland seized him—that was later than 11.10: it was 11.10 when the prosecutor fell.
Cross-examined. I have not so much business to attend to-day as I had on that Monday morning—I did not ask who it was who was robbed; I took no interest in the matter—I did not interfere when I saw the boy knocked about beyond saying, "He has had enough"—I did not think the boy ought to have had any—it is a dangerous thing to interfere with constables in that district—I do not have a number of thieves in my house—Newman is a photographer; he lives at Hackney—this is the first tune I have spoken about this matter—I came here on Monday afternoon; knowing the way the boy had been ill-used, and a crime brought against him, I thought it my duty to come and speak of what I knew about it—no one spoke to me about coming here; I have come of my own accord—I know Holland by his being on a beat in that neighbourhood—I have not had anything to do with the other constables; I have seen them on
their beats—no one of all the people looking on at the assault interfered; they felt too afraid—the police sometimes go about in twos in that neighbourhood—the lad was doing nothing, only larking in the kitchen.
By the COURT. Massingham came into my house about three minutes after Holland had arrested Dine—he came in with Holland, and they went into the yard with Dine, and found Smith in the w.c. and took him to the station—I did not ask them what they were coming into my place for—I heard Dine say to the constable "The other one is in the yard"—Smith had done nothing that I know of—he had been in my house all the time—I did not see him to turn him out—I did not know he was in the yard—I said nothing about it to the policeman; I did not ask what other one it was—I had not the curiosity to ask what they were taking him for—I did not go to the station, nor to the Magistrate, and I never gave evidence about this till to-day—I put Dine outside about 12.10, but how long they had been larking or quiet in there I don't know.
WALTER NEWMAN . I live at 18, Minerva Street, Hackney Road, and am a photographer—on February 18th I arrived at 9, Dorset Street, on a visit to my friend about eight p.m.—about five minutes to eleven Mr. Arundel said, "Look outside"—I did so, and saw the prosecutor and a woman lying drunk in the gutter—I walked over and helped to raise the prosecutor—I saw he had a large wound on the left side of his head, and was bleeding—I said, "Can you stand?"—he said, "I am all right"—directly I let go of him he reeled for about three yards, and then stood against a wall—I went inside, leaving him there—about a quarter-past eleven he came into my friend's house and asked him for a bed—Arundel said, "Do you know your head is cut?"—he said, "No"—Arundel Advised him to go to the hospital—he said, "I cannot let you have a bed in that state "—the prosecutor went away—that was a minute or two after 11.15—I did not see him again that night—at 12.15, I should say, there was a noise in the kitchen—Arundel went there to see what it was—I looked through the office door and saw him turning a lad out—I do not recognise that lad—in about or less than a minute I heard that lad screaming outside—I opened the door and looked outside, and stood on the doorstep, and there I saw Holland holding the boy by the left hand And thumping him with his right fist as hard as he could on the head—I should say he gave him atleast two dozen blows as hard as he could, and as he hit him at each blow he rose his right knee and hit him like that—he so arranged as to strike the boy in the face with his knee—that went on for one or two minutes, I should say—then he let him go—Holland was calling the boy all the foul and beastly names as I ever heard from a man's mouth in my life—he used filthy, disgusting, and profane language, the worst I ever heard—I never heard anything like it—the constable seized the boy again—just then Massingham came up—I had not seen him there before—the constables went through the lodging-house into the yard, taking Dine with them—they fetched another boy out—they did not treat him in the same way—they passed right through the kitchen, and went to the station—I did not notice if anyone accompanied them to the station—I said nothing to anyone—I did not ask the constable what he was ill-treating the boy for—I was ten or twelve feet from them—I ought to have interfered—I did not; I only looked on—no other persons than I and Arundel were in the office—I
was on the doorstep of the office—I did not notice anyone in the street looking on—it was rather late in the evening—I am clear about it—with the exception of me, Arundel, the boy, and the policeman, I did not notice Anyone outside—if there had been anyone else there, I must have seen them, I should say—if there had been a crowd of persons looking on, you could have seen them plain—I did not go to the station—I next heard of this transaction when I read it in the paper—I did not know the boy's name—the next evening I went to Arundel's house and inquired, and he told me the boys were round that way on the Sunday evening, and that the prosecutor was in the vicinity.
Cross-examined. I could not say which of the boys it was I saw turned out—he immediately began to scream, and I looked out and saw him in the constable's hands—the prosecutor was beastly drunk when I picked him up; he was helplessly drunk—I did not speak to him—I said "Can you stand?"—he said, "I am all right"—I don't know that he understood what was said to him in the kitchen afterwards—Arundel asked him if his head was cut, and he said, "No, my head is not cut"—I have not talked the matter over with Arundel—I go to see him three or four times a week, I daresay—I talked the matter over with him last Monday, and at other times—I talked it over with him on the evening after it happened, when I went to hear how the boys got on—I did not go to the Police-station, nor to the Police-court—I did not hear Arundel say anything to the constable—I cannot say which boy it was I saw knocked about, it was so dark—I should say it was that small one (Smith.) by the look of his face from the violence—I do not know now that it was Dine who was turned out of the kitchen—I did not ask what the constable was taking him for—it was rumoured they were going to take the boy for robbing the man—that was the talk after the constables had gone—I could not say they had done nothing of the kind—I am here to prove that the prosecutor inflicted that wound himself.
WILLIAM GODFREY . I am a coffee-house kitchen assistant, living at 6, Abbey Street, Columbia Road—about half-past six on this evening I went to a lodging-house in Dorset Street, and had tea with Knox—we left the lodging-house at a quarter to seven, and went to the London Apprentice public-house in Old Street, and stopped there about half an hour, and then went for a walk round Kingsland and Shoreditch, and got back to the lodging-house between 9.30 and 9.45, and I stopped with him in the kitchen till 12.30—I then said I was going home—Knox said he would come a little way with me—I left him at the corner of Brushfield Street at half-past twelve—we were at a different lodging-house to that from which the other two prisoners were taken; it was on the other side of the road.
Cross-examined. I did not see the policemen at all that night—I have known Knox about two and a half years—I am called "Sailor"—we were at a lodging-house immediately opposite No. 9—I heard no noise in the street—we were in the kitchen at the back of the house—I heard nothing of it till the Tuesday after, when I came home from work—that was the day they said Knox was taken up.
Evidence called in reply.
time—it is not true that he came up afterwards—we were in uniform—Dine was not ejected from the lodging-house; the door was closed on him when they saw we were after him to prevent him from coming in—they saw I and Massingham were running after him, and he was running towards the door of the lodging-house, and, as Dine was getting to the door, it was closed by Arundel; I saw him shut it—I seized Dine by the neckerchief to stop him; I held his neckerchief rather tight—I did not deliver any blows with my fist, nor strike him at all, nor did my knee come in contact with his face—I saw no blood on him—they made way for us then into the house—we pushed open the door and went in—there are about twenty large common lodging-houses in the street—it is a very rough neighbourhood; there is hardly a day goes by without a highway robbery in the street; it is a rare place for robbing sailors—the greater number of persons are pretty well known to the police as reputed and convicted thieves—this is a very rough lodging-house—I have several times had occasion to visit it myself in the discharge of my duty, and in search of persons suspected to be there who have broken the law—this was the first time I have been there this year; in 1893 I went twice or three times when I was on the point—I think Arundel has been deputy the whole six years I have been there—Cokey Jack is his nickname—occasionally the police patrol there in couples; oftentimes there are twenty in the street—the Inspector was on duty at the station—neither Dine or Smith made any complaint to him of ill-treatment—they were charged in the usual way, and made no answer—no question was asked me when before the Magistrate, and no complaint made of any ill-treatment—I have been in the force six years next September—I have on the same trousers as I wore on that night—there is no blood on them, and there was no fresh blood on my trousers or uniform that night when I got to the station—there might lie blood on my overcoat, as I was in a murder case once—it is a common thing to get blood on you when you go into a common lodging-house.
By Smith. I did not pull you up in the air by your neckerchief on the way to the station.
By Dine. The blood was not running down your face, nor was your hand full of blood when we got to the station—I did not kick you, or say I never did it—you did not show the Inspector the blood on your nose, and tell him I had done it.
HENRY WEIDNER (Inspector H). I was the inspector in charge of the station from ten p.m. on Sunday, 18th February, to two a.m. on 19th—I was there when Smith and Dine were brought in, at 12.15, by Massingham and Holland—Massingham had Dine, and he also brought in the prosecutor, who was tipsy—Smith and Dine were charged for being concerned with others in knocking down the prosecutor, cutting his head, and robbing him of one shilling—I called in the doctor to dress his head as he was cut and bleeding—Smith was crying, and said it was not him—no complaint was made to me—Dine did not say anything—I saw no signs of blood on him—he did not call my attention to blood on his nose and hands, and say the injuries had been caused to him by the violence of the policeman—if he had been bleeding, it would have been my duty to ask the divisional surgeon, who was there, to see him—neither of the
prisoners made any complaint of ill-treatment by the police, and I heard nothing of it till I was sent for to-day.
Cross-examined by Dine. Your nose was not bleeding, and you never said a word to me about it—I saw no blood on your hands—Smith was standing in front of the dock, and you was behind Smith—I never heard of the charge against the police until I was fetched from my dinner today.
Smith and Knox, in their defence, stated that they knew nothing of the matter.
Dine stated that he went into the street, and the constable knocked him about; that he told the constable he Had seen two boys running, and that he would show him where they were.
KNOX— NOT GUILTY .
SMITH and DINE— GUILTY of robbery.
The JURY recommended Smith to mercy, and added that they did not believe there was any foundation for the charge made against the police by the witnesses for the defence. SMITH— Six Months' Hard Labour. DINE— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COLLINS Prosecuted, and MR. MARSHALL, Q. C., Defended.
FRANK EDWARD AUSTEN . I am a police-officer in the employ of the District Railway Company—on 20th February, just before six, I was at the Mansion House Station—I saw the prisoners on the platform acting suspiciously, and watched them—when a Whitechapel train came in they walked up and down, looking into various compartments; they entered one in which were several women, the prosecutrix being one—I followed them—Goldman sat down next to the prosecutrix, and on her right-hand side—Dorset sat next to Goldman on his right—Dorset put his left hand and Arm behind Goldman, leaning slightly towards him—I kept observation, And saw a movement by the prosecutrix's dress pocket, on the right-hand Said of her dress—the prosecutrix's hands were in her lap—she was holding a bag—the movement in the pocket continued to about Mark Lane Station—when the train pulled up there the prisoners got out—I at once made a communication to the prosecutrix, and in consequence of what she told me, I got up, but I could not get out of the train, as it was moving out too quickly—at the next station, Aldgate, I and the prosecutrix got out, and went back to Mark Lane—I looked there and at other stations, but could not see the prisoners—the following Friday, 23rd, I saw the prisoners alight from a Whitechapel train at the Mansion House Station about 5.30 p.m.—they walked down the train towards the engine, and then back again, looking into various, compartments—they entered a compartment in which were several women—I got into the next compartment—at Cannon Street, the next station, I got out, and entered the compartment they were in—when the train reached Mark Lane I alighted—I caught hold of the prisoners, and said I should take them into custody for stealing a purse from a person on Tuesday night—they said nothing—they were removed from the train—they were taken to the station inspector's room, where Goldman asked me what the charge was—I repeated it to him—he said, "I don't know what you mean"—a City
constable was called in, and the prisoners were taken to the Police-station—on the way Dorset made a violent attempt to escape from custody—in answer to the charge, they said, "We don't know anything about it."
Cross-examined. Victoria is my chief station, but I frequent all the stations—the performance at Constantinople is over about 5.30, and if the prisoners had caught a train at that time they would be at the Mansion House by about six; they would have to change there for a train to Whitechapel—there were three women, including the prosecutrix, in the compartment; one next to her and one on the opposite side—I sat exactly opposite to Goldman, and almost in the middle of the seat—Mrs. Powell sat almost in the centre—there were eight or nine persons in the compartment—I did not watch the other two women; they were in the compartment before I got in—I know it was the pocket that I saw the movement at, because when I spoke to Mrs. Powell she put her hand to the same spot—it moved about half a foot; it was very noticeable—it was extremely apparent what he was doing—I have had eight years' experience as a detective—the prisoners had not been drinking—as they came to each station they said, "Let me see, two more stations, the next is ours"—Mrs. Powell was in a very deep study, and was not paying attention to anyone; I should think it was very easy to take her purse—Goldman had a cigarette on the platform, which he threw away when he got into the compartment—they had passed a smoking carriage—Goldman's hands were on his knees, and one of Dorset's hands was on his knees, and they played their hands about very cleverly; I had to look twice to make sure there were not four hands there—on the Friday they got into the same train they had got out of after looking into various compartments—they were arrested in the train, and when they were searched they had no tickets.
Re-examined. The object of playing with their hands was to attract attention from the pocket; it is an old trick, I believe.
MARY POWELL . I am the wife of Richard Powell—I live at Trafalgar Square, Stepney—on Tuesday, 20th February, I was on the underground railway—Austen got into the same carriage, and sat opposite to me—two lads came and sat by my side, but I did not look at their faces—they had just passed me to leave the train when Austen asked me if I had lost anything—I put my hand in my pocket and said "No," and I then pulled out my purse and glasses and handkerchief, and I found my purse had been emptied and put back—I opened it and showed it to Austen—I had last looked into my purse when I went into Charing Cross Station and took out my return half ticket—there was then 10s. in silver and 1d. or 1 1/2 d.—I put the purse back into my pocket—my pocket was on my right side, on which the lads were sitting.
Cross-examined. I was at Charing Cross at about six—there was scarcely anybody about when I took out my purse at Charing Cross—I had not spent any money—I did not have to wait at Charing Cross—I sat in the middle of the carriage.
GEORGE ROACH (822 City). The prisoners were given into custody by Austen—I searched them—on Dorset I found 5s. 3 1/2 d., and on Goldman 4s. 9 1/2 d.—they had no tickets—when given into custody they said nothing—when the charge was read to them they said, "We know nothing of it.
GUILTY .—GOLDMAN**†then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in December, 1891.— Eighteen Month's Hard Labour. DORSET**†— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
The JURY commended the conduct of Austen.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 8th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
Three Months' Hard Labour.
For other case this day see Essex and Surrey cases.
NEW COURT.—Thursday and Friday, March 8th and 9th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY, for the prisoner, stated that he was willing to indemnify the prosecutor.— Discharged on recognizances.
MR. C. MATTHEWS and MR. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. MARSHALL, Q. C., appeared for Daniels, and MR. CANDY, Q.C., for Hand.
WILLIAM PHILIP CLARK . I am chief clerk in the Law Offices Department—I produce some documents, which were impounded in the case of Beach, a bankrupt—two are marked "A" and "B," and "C" is a mortgage deed. (This was dated August 19th, 1891, from Beach to Daniels, and signed in the presence of Henry Hand, solicitor.)
JOHN WORTHAM . I am a solicitor of the High Court of Justice in Bankruptcy—I produce the file of proceedings in the bankruptcy of William Beach—the receiving order is dated November 9th, 1892, and the adjudication of bankruptcy, December 17th; the statement of affairs, January 13th, 1893, and purports to be sworn at 40, Chancery Lane, before Henry Hand, a Commissioner for Oaths—I find in it, "Creditors fully secured as per list B, £8, 020; estimated value of securities, £9, 050"—in the list of creditors fully secured, I find No. 8, name of creditor, Platt, care of Hird, solicitor, 10, Serjeants' Inn, Fleet Street; security given June, 1891, estimated value £400—I also find on the file that there is a motion to set aside this mortgage dated May 2nd, 1893—on November 2nd, 1893, an order in bankruptcy was made, setting aside the mortgage deed.
Cross-examined by MR. CANDY. These statements have to be sworn, sheet by sheet, before a commissioner, and it would have been his duty to
sign his name—he did what was regular and right in putting his name and address.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. Baker was the name of the creditor in the first item—the grounds for the motion as well as the motion itself are upon the file on October 30th.
HARRY WOODWARD . I am one of the firm of Ravenscroft, Hills and Woodward, of 15, John Street, Bedford Row—we have acted as solicitors for the first mortgage of 101, West End Lane, Hampstead, and also for the mortgage of Nos. 105 and 109—the first mortgage of No. 101 was sold—the sale was complete on February 10th, 1893, and realised enough to leave in their hands a balance of £132 10s. 5d.—up to that time we had no notice of any second or third mortgage being created—notice ought to have been sent to us; any solicitors who had been consulted about a second mortgage would send notice to the first mortgagees—on March 18th I received this undated letter from 49, Baker Road Plaistow, signed p.p. J. Daniels, W. L. (This stated that he field a second and third mortgage on the property, and inquired whether Messrs. Ravens-croft had any surplus funds to meet his claims for interest)—I answered that on March 20th. (This requested full particulars of the mortgage, and Hated that No. 101 was sold, and there was a balance in hand)—I next received a letter dated March 25th. (This was signed p.p. J. Daniels, and requested to know why they had sold No. 101 without foreclosing, and requesting to know the amount obtained for it, and offering to produce the mortgage deed)—on March 27th I replied. (This letter requested to see the securities, and offered to make an appointment for the following Thursday) the second letter I received from Daniels was dated from Baker Street, and the first from Baker Row—I had had no answer—I then wrote, "We want a copy of a letter which was returned from the Dead Letter Office," etc.—that is a fact; it was returned—in answer to that I got this letter. (Dated 44, Grange Road, Balaam Street, Plaistow, April 5th, 1893, and stating that he had omitted to give the postal authorities his change of address—Signed J. Daniels, p.p. W.H.)—on April 7th I wrote this letter in answer. (Acknowledging Daniel's letter of the 5th, and enclosing their letter of the 4th, which had been returned through the Dead Letter Office)—on April 11th we received this. (Signed p.p. J. Daniels, W.L. and promising to bring or send the mortgage deed on Thursday at noon)—I wrote saying that the appointment would suit me, and then received this letter. (From Daniels, dated April 13th, regretting that he was unable to keep the appointment, but would call next day, Friday, at noon)—he did not keep that appointment, nor was any deed produced, and on 18th April I wrote this letter to Daniels. (Stating that a copy of the deed sent had not been called for, and giving him formal notice to produce the original deed in the course of the week)—I dictated to my shorthand clerk, a summary of what had taken place—between April 13th and 18th this deed was brought to the office, but not handed to me personally—it purports to be an attested copy of an alleged mortgage by Beach to James Daniels, on August 19th, 1891, and is certified to be correct by Paget, a law stationer, pro. John Douglas, his clerk—the certificate is dated April 17th, 1893—I perused it, and then wrote the letter of 18th April—no deed was produced by Daniels at that time—on 18th April I communicated with the Official Receiver in Bankruptcy, and so got into communication
with the solicitors to the trustee—on 22nd April, I received this telegram, "Will call at four o'clock Saturday re deed.—DANIELS"—and then a second, "Detained; writing appointment for Monday.—DANIELS"—I then wrote this. (Acknowledging the two telegrams, but stating that no letter had been received, and stating that the houses 105 and 109, West End Lane, would be offered for sale at the Auction Mart on May 15th)—that was addressed to Daniels at 44, Grange Road—on April 5th I received the first communication from Marshall and Marshall, as solicitors to Daniels, and made an appointment with them, and five or six weeks afterwards they called on me, and produced what appeared to be an original deed—I think that was in May—it was at the second interview with Messrs. Marshall—exhibit "C "looks very much like the document; I only had it in my hands a few minutes, just perused it, and handed it back—I should not like to swear to the attesting witness.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. I do not remember any occasion where we have not received notice of a second mortgage—if a man has a second mortgage it is to his interest to let the first mortgagee know—I should expect a solicitor to serve notice of a second mortgage on me, but not if he is not familiar with mortgage deeds—the letter of March 18th was from 49, Baker Street—I naturally directed my reply to Baker Street, and it came back—my letter of April 4th reached him though directed to 49, Baker Street—that was a registered letter—the letter of March 7th was not returned by the Dead Letter Office, but my letter of March 27th was—I got the attested copy on the 17th, and I saw the original deed, of which it is a copy, on May 11th—I dictated to my clerk: "27th April, long attendance of Messrs. Marshall on their calling; they did not produce their client's original security, although we pressed for it"—I asked them to produce it, they did not do so, and I told them my suspicions had been aroused, and I did not think it was a genuine deed—Mr. Marshall said he thought it was perfectly genuine—I said, "Well, why don't you produce it?"—I do not remember his answer—a client of mine had advanced £700 on No. 101; G. M. Hill and George Love were the trustees—I should not advance more than what I considered one-third of the value—I do not know that the rent was £70 a year—it is a freehold house—the quarter's rent was £17 10s.—it was sold for £900 to George Seymour, the tenant, and then there was the mortgage—I think there was an advertisement of the sale. (Reading the items of expenses, insurance premiums, interest, fees, and commission for collecting rent, leaving a balance of £132 15s.)—No. 105 appears to be let to a yearly tenant at £65, and No. 109 to Dr. Mill under a repairing lease for seven years.
Re-examined. My impression is that Marshall and Marshall sent a clerk saying that the original deed would be produced—some message of that kind came to me from the outer office.
By MR. MARSHALL. The message was not that they would communicate with their client and get the deed and show it me on the following day—I do not remember who the messenger was. (MR. MATTHEWS here called upon the solicitor for the defence to produce letters of May 8th, 9th, and 12th, and some earlier ones, which were handed in but not read.)
solicitors, 4, Fenchurch Street—they were solicitors to William Beach, a bankrupt—about April 18th, 1893, I had a communication from the Official Receiver, and at the end of April or the beginning of May a correspondence was entered into which I have sent for—on May 11th I accompanied Mr. Paget, a law stationer of Chancery Lane, to Messrs. Marshall and Marshall's—a deed of August 19th, 1891, was produced—we both examined it—that was the first time any original deed had been produced to the trustee after the service of motion to set the deed aside—the motion came on before Mr. Justice Vaughan Williams alone, who said that h wished a jury to hear it, and it was adjourned to November, and heard before a jury, and the deed was set aside and ordered to be impounded—my firm continued to act as solicitors for the trustees—my attention was called to the draft, and to the attested copy and the deed itself—I have compared them with each other—the attested copy and the deed are identical, with three or four exceptions—the word "situate" in one is "situated" in the other, and one has Beacks Road or Blacks Road; it is difficult to say which it is—so far as the attestation clause is concerned the name of James Daniels is omitted; one has "Whereas by an indenture," and the other has, "By another indenture."
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. Mr. Paget told us that he had engrossed the deed, and on April 26th, when this letter was written, my principals and myself believed that the deed had been engrossed by Mr. Paget; but afterwards Mr. Paget said that that was not the deed which he engrossed—we had never seen the second, and I do not believe it was in existence at that time—we say in our letter, "We could mention many other facts"—we did not mention them; we thought it best not, because the notice of motion had been served—in consequence of receiving a letter on the morning of May 11th I went down to inspect the document—in our letter of April 26th we mention Mr. Paget's name for the first time; we could not mention it before—I have a letter of 18th November, 1893, to us stating that they had heard that our client contemplated taking proceedings against Daniels—the taking of proceedings was left to the Treasury solicitor.
Re-examined. In writing the letter of April 26th we were referring to the deed of which we had an attested copy; I spoke of it from the knowledge I had gained from the attested copy—I did not know at that time of the existence of any other deed—I gave the leading facts, but said there were other facts which I could mention leading to the same conclusion—my letter was on May 2nd, before the receipt of the letter from Marshall—it is not usual to tell your adversary what your information is—my reasons were sufficient for not giving further information—this is a press copy of Ravenscroft's letter to us of April 16th.
FREDERICK GEORGE HIRD . I am a solicitor, of 10, Serjeants' Inn—I am the only gentleman of that name at that address, or in the City—I knew Mr. Beach; he called on me in March, 1893, either the 2nd or 3rd—I did not know him before that—he gave me certain instructions, in consequence of which I prepared this draft of a mortgage—it is in my own writing—there are no names or dates in it—the parcels are there—all I have got is "a message or dwelling, situate at West Hampstead"—he gave me the instructions verbally—he did not inform me what the property was that was going to be mortgaged—he called again and gave
me that—this £400 was filled in afterwards—it is in my clerk's writing—having prepared the draft, and had it fair copied by my clerk, I handed the fair copy to Beach on March 4th—I left the clerk to add the clause for redemption, from a volume of precedents—March, 1893, was the first date I heard of such a mortgage.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. The second time he came was March 4th—his brother was with him—I had acted for his brother before, but never for him—Messrs. Marshall came down to see me, and Messrs. Cave and I gave them duplicate copies of the mortgage—this paper (produced) was left in the office for me to sign—I refused to do so because it was not accurate—it was not true—I mean that a thing like this was left at my office for me to sign it as my evidence—I handed a volume of "Priddeau" to my clerk, but I did not take the draft from "Priddeau," or any part of it—the other two were leasehold houses and in that case I should repeat it with the necessary alterations—I have drawn a great many such deeds, and I knew what to put—Beach did not bring any paper—I had no instructions in writing—he may have had a half-sheet of letter paper, but I did not receive it—I cannot pledge my oath, but I believe he had, and I believe he dictated from it what the parcels were—I do not remember that I wrote it down while he read it; it says "The residue for a term of ninety-nine years"—that is in my clerk's writing—I suppose I omitted it and told my clerk to put it in—this is 100 just afterwards, not 1,000; if I wrote 100 he probably told me 100—the piece of paper he had was not something in the nature of a draft.
Re-examined. I find in this draft words written and crossed out, and words substituted for them, and on the second page again—that indicates, to my mind, that I was not copying them from any documents, but writing from my head—I wrote "All the freehold," and then I altered it—quite apart from my recollection, this reminds me that I drew this from instructions then and there supplied to me by Beach, and not from another document—I read the pencil draft before I refused to sign it—I should know it again; this is it (Produced)—it was produced to me after the notice of motion to set the deed aside, with a request that I would look at it and sign it—I did not send a verbal message refusing to sign it—they got it back by calling again—I was not called as a witness by Messrs. Marshall, but by the other side, and this proof was put to me.
EDWARD JOHN BRYCE . I am a clerk to the last witness—I was in the service of Mr. Hand in 1893—on March 4th, 1893, I made a fair copy of this draft—the endorsement is added in my writing—it was handed to Mr. Beach on March 4th, and he took it away.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. I wrote it on blue draft paper.
THOMAS SNOWDEN BEDFORD . I am a law stationer, of 22, Chancery-Lane—I produce a cash-book in which I make entries of things sold, at the time they are sold—on 7th March, 1893, I sold a 10s. stamp on demy paper—the usual price would be 10s. 3d.; I charged 15s. for it—I cannot say now what date it had on, it, but I know it was about two years old—my name was printed on the paper, just above the stamp—I do not know to whom I sold it—15s. was charged on account of it being old; that increases the value—if we keep a stamp two years we expect to be paid—if
I was asked for a stamp of 1891 I should look to see if I had one—I was asked for an old one.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. I said before the Magistrate, "I do not remember how old it was;" and I said before the Judge, "I cannot tell the date of it."
By the COURT. I was charging him fifty per cent, profit—it has never struck me that an old stamp might be made use of for improper purposes—I have been asked for old stamps where a deed has been lost—I have been told more than once that parties have been going to execute another deed, and have I got such a thing—I shall not sell any more.
ALFRED PAGET . I am a law stationer, of Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane—on 8th March, 1893, William Beach, who I knew, brought me a mortgage from Beach to Daniels, and a sheet of demy paper with a 10s. stamp impressed on it, and gave me instructions to engross it—it was an old stamp of 1891—I had the engrossing done on the sheet of paper, on which I noticed the stationer's name, Bedford, Chancery Lane—Beach called for it the same day, and took it away, and the draft—there were blanks in it for the titles and the amount—the names of the parties, Beach and Daniels, were in—Beach brought the engrossment back a few days afterwards to have the blanks, which he had inserted in pencil, filled in in ink, and two or three days afterwards, on April 17th, he brought it back to have an attested copy made—it was signed by Daniels, and witnessed by Henry Hand, solicitor—I made the attested copy produced, and handed it to Mr. Beal, and the deed—I have never seen the deed since—on May 11th I went to Messrs. Marshall's office to inspect a deed, and there saw the document "C," which is certainly the document I wrote—this one bears a stamp of July 18th, 1891, but the engrossment is in the writing of one of my clerks—there is no stationer's name on this one—I have known the prisoner Hand as a solicitor for five or six years—I have seen Beach half a dozen times in four or five years—I never saw Beach and Hand together till I saw them at the trial before Justice Williams—I do not think I said at the Police-court that I had seen them together; it was knowing Mr. Hand that made me take such particular notice of the deed—about a week afterwards, Messrs. Cave's clerk, the solicitors to the trustees, called on me.
Cross-examined. I remember that there was a stamp on the deed at that time—I am sure it was 1891, and that I noticed the name of Bedford—Douglas engrossed it, and he and I certified it—there was no attestation clause to this deed, so we should simply put, "Signed, sealed, and delivered by the above named," and there we should stop—a person might put an attestation clause leaving out the names, and they would not be filled in in the draft.
By the COURT. I noticed the stationer's name, and the stamp we generally examine to see if it is correct—I knew Bedford—I did not think it curious that it was brought to me to engross when it was bought at another stationer's.
EDWIN MOTT (Detective Sergeant). On January 28th, about four o'clock, I went to Seaborne Park, and found Daniels—I had had a warrant about three weeks for his apprehension, which I read to him—he aid, "It is a nice thing; I have been swindled out of £400, and am
going to get locked up innocent, and perhaps get seven years. If I had known there was a warrant out I should have given myself up."
WALTER DENNY (Police Inspector). On the afternoon of January 15th I arrested Hand outside a public-house in Chancery Lane—I said, "I am a police officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest"—he said, "Yes, I did attest that deed, but I did not know it was a forged one"—on the way to the station he said, "If I had known there was a warrant against me I would have surrendered"—he took this card (produced) out of his pocket with the name of Hird on it, and said, "You see, I did know there was a warrant against me"—I do not know who the writer of the card, John Calverly, is—the warrant was applied for on January 11th. (The card stated; "Dear Sir,—I will contrive to see you on 10th January."And on the address side, "Thursday, at two, Bow Street, in upper room, warrant applied for against all persons connected with Beach's matter. Hird and Lewis were up there together before Vaughan. Address to Hand, 17, King Street, W.")—I have searched at the Middlesex Registry for a deed since August, 1891, but find no trace of any such deed being registered—the warrant included Read—I have tried to find him, but cannot.
Cross-examined by MR. MARSHALL. Walter Cable's name is mentioned in the examination before Mr. Justice Williams—I wrote a letter to him, and invited him to Scotland Yard—he came, and I took his statement—I believe he is here to-day—I got a statement from Trin—he is here.
Re-examined. Trin has been in Court to-day, but not as a witness—I saw Cable outside Bow Street Police-court on February 6th, when this case had been before the Magistrate—he said, "If I had known my name would be mentioned in this matter, I should never have offered to go bail for Daniels"—he had offered himself as one bail, but a second could not be found—he said, "I never saw any deed; I am going to see his solicitor to-day, but I will not be bail for him, and I do not think you will see me here again"—it was in consequence of that that I asked him to come to Scotland Yard, and took a further statement from him.
ALFRED INGHAM . I am a shorthand writer—on 1st and 2nd November I was in one of the Chancery Courts—the two prisoners were examined as witnesses, and I took notes of their evidence, which I have here, and this is a correct transcript. (The notes of the evidence of both the prisoners were put in and read.)
F. W. DARCH (Re-examined). I prepared a document in red and black ink, showing the alterations—this (produced) is not it—I gave it to Mr. Lewis—it has the seal of the Bankruptcy Court, and my initials.
Evidence for the Defence.
WALTER CABLE . I live at East Ham—I formerly lived at 360, Barking Road—I am a pawnbroker's manager—I have known Daniels sixteen years, ten years intimately—he was a stevedore—he lived next door to me for live years—I always found him a very abstemious man, and a very good character—he got up very early in the morning and went to bed early—I have seen a safe in his bedroom; I remember his buying it—i remained there till he left—he lent me from time to time sums of money to carry on my employer's pawnbroking business, Mr. Hammoth—the loans begun in July, 1889, with £23—this book shows altogether £1, 500 down to December, 1891—one page is advances and the other repayments—
this is only a rough book—the last payment was £25 on December 8th, 1891—I think all the entries are down here, but it is not a stock book—I paid him nothing for the accommodation, but if he bought anything of me I used to let him have it at cost price—the advances made in 1889 were eight sums of £20 each and two of £10—the repayments are on the other side—the last is December 21st—he lent me altogether £1,500, and it is in process of repayment—the last repayment was on July 27th—I have not put down the years—I might say independent of lump sums I have had as much as £50 at a time and paid him back £2 a week—I went to his house in October, 1889, between seven and eight p.m., and saw a quantity of gold on the table—I should say there was £600 or £700—he was counting it when I went in—he left Barking Road in 1889, and I remained and did not see so much of him, because I used to send instead of going myself—I remember his showing me a document towards Christmas, 1892, but I cannot say what it was—he asked me if I thought it was all right—I said I did not think it was—I had not seen many deeds, but I thought it ought to be on parchment, and this was only on paper—I did not read it; I gave it back to him—I have written a great many letters for Daniels, but none in connection with this matter—I never wrote to Beach—the letters I wrote were in connection with his business as a stevedore—he produced the document in my employer's shop.
Cross-examined. It was out of friendship to Daniels that I lent him £1,500, but I sold him furniture—I do not know much about his business—he kept it very much to himself—I lived next door to him four or five years—I never heard him mention Beach—I do not remember ever writing a letter to Beach for him; I may have—anything that was not about his business as a stevedore would impress itself on me as something unusual—he knew I was a pawnbroker's manager; my principal, Mr. Hammoth, died in 1889, and the widow carried it on—I left last June—I was not present at the trial before Mr. Justice Williams—I have heard that on that trial Clark described me as managing clerk to a shipping firm—I was not clerk to a shipping firm—I saw him last year—I have never seen him at my present address, but I met him casually—I told him I had left Barking Road—he knew my address, and could have found me in an hour—I have heard his evidence read, in which he says he did not know where to find me—he never, after 1892, showed me any document, and asked me to compare it with another document, nor did I ever do so—I never saw a second document—I never sent any document enclosed in a letter to Mr. Beach, after having examined it—I have no doubt, having heard his evidence read at Bow Street, that he said all these things at the trial—I offered myself as bail for him, but the other bail was not forthcoming—when I heard the evidence read I refused to be bail for him.
Re-examined. I continued at Barking Road till July, 1893—my present address is 2, Walking Terrace, East Ham—I remember telling him where I lived—I only saw him a few times in 1893.
JAMES WILLIAM GREENGRASS . I have lived at 18, Sweet Street, Plaistow, six or seven years—I have been in business twenty-five years—I have known Daniels twenty-five or twenty-six years—I was foreman to his father ten years at his father's death lie and I took the business, and
were in partnership three or four years—it was then dissolved, and I carried it on separately—when we had got work our profits were £26 a week, or £50 to the partnership—we did not resume partnership lately, but we worked together; I got the orders, and Daniels found the money—I gave him a good character.
Cross-examined. The partnership came to an end in 1883 or 1884, or it may have been at the end of 1880. (Looking at a document)—I can read; Daniels can read a little, but nothing to speak of—I do not know whether he could read a document like this—I did not have to read a bill of lading—sometimes I did very little stevedore's business—I had to make arrangements for taking the cargo—the stevedore generally knows what the cargo is when it is a mixed cargo.
Re-examined. We began to work together since the strike, and did so down to last week. (MR. MARSHALL here put in some affidavits and a pass-book.)
JOHN WILLIAM MCVEIGH . I am manager of the Canning Town branch of the London and Provincial Bank—I made this affidavit—the prisoner Daniels is the person referred to—he had a deposit account at the bank—I am not positive whether it was down to 1889. (This affidavit showed That £1,000 was paid in to Daniels' deposit account between October 1888, and October, 1889, and that £200 was drawn out)—the whole of that was drawn out in gold.
Cross-examined. The total amount he drew out when he closed the account was £850—he drew £18 from the current account in October—the whole amount he drew out in October was £868.
Daniels received a good character.
GUILTY .—DANIELS— Three Years' Penal servitude. HAND— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT,—Thursday, March 8th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
307. JOHN HILL(45), and EDGAR DURHAM(36) , Unlawfully conspiring by false pretences to obtain money from various persons. Other Counts, for obtaining from James Siddall Whittaker £2 10s. by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and other sums from other persons.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted; MR. CAMPBELL Defended Hill; and MR. JERVIS Defended Durham.
HILL slated in the hearing of the JURY that lie was guilty of obtaining £2 10s. from James Siddall Whittaker by false pretences, with intent to defraud, and the Jury thereupon found HILL GUILTY.
JAMES SIDDALL WHITTAKER . I am a student of dental surgery, living at 21, New Cavendish Street—Hill came to me in August last, and asked me to cash this crossed cheque for £2 10s., drawn by Durham, and dated 19th August, for him—I had not the money in my pocket; I drew this open cheque on my own account, and gave it to him, as against this cheque on Durham's account—my cheque was paid at the bank—Hill was going to cash it, and he took this cheque of Durham to pay into my account at the same time—it came back marked "Refer to
drawer"—it has never been paid—I saw Hill afterwards, and had some conversation with him, and after that I met Durham at the Castle Public-house—I told him I wanted a suit of clothes, and he said he would make them for me; he is a tailor—Hill said in Durham's presence about the cheque that Durham would see it was all right, and then Durham said he would see it was all right—I have not seen or had any communication with Durham since—he had paid no part of the £2 10s.—at the time I parted with my cheque I believed his cheque would be met on being paid into my bank, and it was on that understanding that I gave my cheque to Hill.
Cross-examined. I was quite willing to give Durham an order for the clothes—I did not think then he was a fraudulent person, who should stand in the dock—I thought it would turn out all right—I put the matter into my solicitor's hands, and asked him whether he could do anything—I told the Magistrate I had no wish to prosecute—later on I knew that Hill was negotiating some property for Durham, and that Durham had to pay him commission—I did not know it at the time—I had known Hill about a year, I should think—I did not know at the time whether Durham's cheque was a good one—I called on Durham afterwards about the clothes, but Durham was out—I believe Hill got my cheque on 22nd August—he said nothing about holding it over—since then Hill has said he would see me all right—I did not think it worth the trouble—I did not prosecute for a long time; but I took a different view when I heard there were so many more cheques knocking about—I may have heard of Newman's, Sibley's, or Twitcher's—I know Sibley and Newman by going to their houses—we all went into the prosecution together; we arranged it between ourselves—I did not hear about any other cheques till many months afterwards—I was in the habit of going into Newman's house between August 22nd and Christmas—he did not know who I was, and I did not know he had anything to do with the matter—I came forward about the time that Newman took out a summons; I cannot remember the dates—I saw Newman's solicitor; he did not call on me—Newman asked me to go up with him.
Re-examined. I heard of the three cheques from Newman, Sibley, and Twitcher—I gave evidence on 6th February—I was in attendance outside the Police-court before that—I heard of Newman's prosecution—if my £2 10s. had been an isolated transaction, I should not have prosecuted; but when I found there were other persons who said they held cheques given under similar circumstances, I joined in prosecuting the prisoners.
JAMES SIBLEY . I am manager to F. A. Wells and Co., corn and coal merchants, 20, High Street, Marylebone—on 15th September Hill came and ordered one ton of coals, and gave me in payment this cheque for £10, drawn by Durham in favour of Hill, and endorsed by him—I demurred to take the cheque, as I did not know Durham—Hill represented Durham was in a good position as a master tailor in Margaret Street, and that the cheque was for work he had done for him, and I agreed to give him £5, and the balance after the cheque had passed through my bank—I took £1 8s. for the coals, and gave him £3 12s.—I paid the cheque in four days afterwards; before it came back from my bank I saw Hill, and he asked me if the cheque was all right—
I said, "I suppose so"—it was long enough for me to have heard, and I had not heard—I gave him £5, the balance—after that the cheque came back marked "N. S."—an hour or two after that I found Hill in Blandford Street, at the office of Baker, a builder, where he was employed—he said he had not got the money—I said, "It is very strange; you have not had it very long. You had tatter give me back the money, or get it back from Durham. I must have it"—he said he had paid the money over to Durham, and he must see Durham—I afterwards went to Durham, and told him I was very much surprised the cheque had come back, and that he had better give me an open cheque, so that I could go to the bank and draw the money—he said that would be no use at present; there was no money there—that would be about 19th September—I saw Hill afterwards, and he and Durham agreed to meet me at 20, High Street on the next morning; they met me there—they could not raise the money between them, but they said if they went down to the City they thought they could get it, and they went away and never turned up afterwards—I have never had any part of the £10 from Durham—Hill has repaid me £3 10s.—I have lost the coals and £5 2s.
Cross-examined. Hill told me the first time he came that Durham had paid this for commission—I delivered the coals to Hill—Durham told me he had not received the money—Hill said he had paid it to him—I knew nothing of Durham—I have never seen Mrs. Durham—there is a little brass plate on the door about a millinery business—he has a little tailor's shop, which is sometimes open and sometimes shut—it is in Margaret Street, Regent Street—I paid in the cheque the next day or so; and I paid it in a second time by Durham's orders, and the second time it was dishonoured—I do not know that he paid in £10 to meet it—I was not anxious to prosecute in the first place—I wanted the money—Hill promised on 10th November to pay £1 a fortnight—he did not keep his promise—I had no knowledge of the other cheques at that time—I should not have prosecuted if he had paid the money, no doubt—at first my only object was to get the money—Hill said that although the money was paid, the mortgage was not carried through—I heard several versions.
Re-examined. Hill said in the first place he received the cheque of commission for getting the transfer of a mortgage on a house Durham owned in Thayre Street—afterwards Durham said the mortgage had fallen through for some reason, and he said he sometimes had large cheques from people abroad, which were paid into the bank directly, and did not come into his hands, and he thought the cheque would be met in that way—he did not mention the names of the persons abroad—I cannot recall anything more that was said about the mortgages—he said he was expecting a large cheque from Scotland; that was from the man who was going to take up the mortgage—I was led to prosecute by finding other people had had cheques and been done in the same way—I then determined to join with them in prosecuting.
GRACE NEWMAN . I am the wife of William George Newman, who keeps a public-house at 37, Thayre Street—Hill was a customer—on 21st October he came in for a bottle of brandy, price 6s., and tendered this cheque for £2 4s., drawn by Durham in favour of Hill, and endorsed by Hill—I gave him the brandy and the change, believing the cheque was a good one, and would be paid.
Cross-examined. I know nothing about Durham except as a customer—I do not cash cheques as a rule, but I thought it was good as I knew Hill, and I considered him a very respectable man—Hill did say how he got the cheque—he did not say he got it from Durham over a mortgage on his house at 10, Thayre Street.
WILLIAM GEORGE NEWMAN . I am a licensed victualler, at 37, Thayre Street—about 21st October my wife gave me this cheque for £2 4s., which went into my bank, and came back marked "Refer to drawer"—I then made inquiries and saw Hill—he asked me to keep the cheque for a week, and pay it in again—I did so—it came back again, "Refer to drawer"—I saw Hill about the second presentation—he said he would see Durham about it—I had seen Durham before that, but did not know him by name, and did not know he was the Durham to whom the cheque belonged—I saw Durham about ten days afterwards, about the beginning of November, and asked him about the cheque, and he said it was an old cheque—I asked him what the date of the cheque was—he said, "On the 21st I gave Hill a new cheque"—I said, "I have got the new one"—he said he could not make the matter right; I must see Hill, for whom I changed the cheque—I saw Hill again, and he said he would see Durham again—I saw Durham after that, and he said the same again, "I must see Hill"—I did not see Hill or Durham after that; I put the, matter into my solicitor's hands, Mr. Freke Palmer—I heard certain matters, and then determined to prosecute—I know Sibley and Twitcher.
Cross-examined. I saw Durham several times after the transaction—I ordered a pair of trousers from him—I have not paid for them; the price was 23s.—I had not had this cheque when I ordered the trousers; they were delivered on November 11th, but I gave the order for them about 13th October; he had a certain cloth to match, and it took him a fortnight or three weeks—during that time he brought the cloth for my approval—I might have had conversation with him then; that was all arranged before the cheque was dishonoured—I took my house on the 5th, and Durham came in as a regular customer—he gave me his card, and I knew he was a tailor in Margaret Street, and so I ordered the trousers of him—I did not know that he was the man who signed the cheque; he had my order for the trousers before I took the cheque—there is more than one E. Durham in the world—I did not make application to Hill for the £2 4s.
ALBERT JOHN BUCK . I am a clerk at the Hanover Square branch of the London and County Bank—this is the certificate of incorporation—Durham had an account there, which was closed about 17th January, 1893—Mrs. E. Durham has kept an account there since about 11th January, 1893—this is her pass-book—he had the right to operate on the account as well as his wife—every cheque written by Mrs. or Mr. Durham, the signature being E. Durham, was cashed if there was sufficient money at the bank—one of the regular books of the bank is the Returns book, in which are entered cheques presented and returned marked "N.S.," or "Refer to drawer"—I made this copy from that book of cheques drawn on Mrs. Durham's account—I have verified it—I find that fortyone cheques drawn on that account between 30th June, 1893, and December 30th, 1893, were dishonoured, there not being sufficient at the time of the presentation of each of them to meet them, with the exception of
one cheque returned post dated and not paid—the forty-one cheques represent about £165 altogether—on and after 3rd October there was eight shillings to the account in the bank, and twenty-three cheques amounting to £120 3s. 6d. were drawn on the account since October 3rd—the last amount paid in was on September 29th—sixteen of the forty-one cheques were drawn in favour of Hill and dishonoured, and about nine in favour of Dickens.
Cross-examined. If the same cheque were paid in half a dozen times it would appear as six separate cheques—when a cheque is presented a second time it is equivalent to a new cheque—the forty-one cheques really mean forty-one presentations—Mrs. Durham paid in £10 on 29th September—of the forty-one cheques eight were presented twice, representing about £27 or £28; none three times; so that the number of cheques between the same dates was thirty-three, of about the value of £130—sometimes a customer takes up a dishonoured cheque privately without its going into the bank again—if any of these had been taken up privately our record would exist as if they were outstanding debts—it is not usual for a person to draw twenty-six cheques on an account when he has only eight shillings standing to his credit—I don't think Durham at any time had the right to overdraw this account—on June 7th his account was. £5 7s. overdrawn—he had no sanction for that, to my knowledge—I am a ledger keeper, and all ledger keepers are aware of accounts that may be overdrawn—the account was not closed till December 29th or 30th, because there were £2 or £3 at the end of September—I do not know that we called his attention to the fact that cheques were being written, and sent when he had no assets.
Re-examined. I find no entry in the account of any large remittance from anybody abroad during the last six months of the year—we simply had cash amounts varying from £1 15s. to £10, with the exception of one amount of £53 paid in by Mrs. Durham, when she opened the account on January 11th—his account was closed in January, because he was an undischarged bankrupt.
THOMAS WEBB (Sergeant D). About three p.m. on 27th January I saw Hill in James Street, and took him into custody, telling him there was a warrant out against him—I searched him at the station, and found on him, among other things, this cheque for £2 7s. 6d., drawn by Durham in his favour, and also this letter addressed to Hill.
Cross-examined. When I told him there was a warrant against him for conspiracy and fraud, he said, "Yes, I was coming to the station. About September last a man named York, a solicitor, called on me to arrange a mortgage for a Mr. Durham on his house, 10, Thayre Street, I spoke to a firm of solicitors, who entertained it. I wrote to Durham telling him so. Pending the matter being carried out, he (Durham) asked me to cash him one of his cheques, which I did at Sibley's, cornchandler High Street, for £10. It was returned, 'Refer to drawer.' I spoke to Durham about it. He gave me another cheque, I think about £2 10s., which I cashed, and paid to Mr. Sibley on account of the £16. I have since paid him £1 more. On 21st October I went to Mr. Newman, Thayre Street, and obtained a bottle of brandy."
GUILTY .—HILL PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction in March, 1890, at this Court. MR. BODKIN stated that since that conviction Hill had been in respectable employment.— Judgment respited.
MR. RHODES Prosecuted.
JAMES KENDAL . I am a hosier, of 11A, Kentish Town Road—about 6.30 p.m., on 31st January, I fastened my premises, and left them—I returned at ten or 10.30, and found the side door had been forced open, and a policeman was in charge of the premises—I identify all these handkerchiefs, which were subsequently shown me by the police—I lost fifty, of the value of £10—those found were worth about £6.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I can swear to these handkerchiefs by the pattern—you cannot buy these at 1s. 11d. or 2s. 6d.—there is no private mark on them—these correspond in every respect with those which I lost, and also with those pawned—they are various patterns.
EDWIN PALMER . I live at 11A, Kentish Town Road, above Mr. Kendal's hop—about 7.20 p.m. on the evening of 31st January I came down the staircase leading to the front door—I noticed the shop door standing wide open, and the box staple was forced off—I gave information to the agent who has the letting of the property.
WILLIAM TURNER (23 Y). About 8.30 p.m., on 31st January, I was told something, and I went to 11A, Kentish Town Road—I found the box of the lock forced away from the door post—I took charge of the premises till another officer relieved me at ten o'clock.
FREDERICK HUFFLET (Detective 326 R). At 11.30 a.m. on 1st February, I was in Evelyn Street, Deptford—I saw the prisoner and another man, and kept observation on them—the other man left the prisoner and went into a pawnbroker's, the door of which is in a side street—he fumbled with his coat before he went in—I waited outside for about five minutes—the other man then came out, and ran across Evelyn Street without looking round, whistling—he walked sharply down that side; the prisoner followed down on the other side very leisurely—when the other got about a hundred yards he walked across, and joined the prisoner, and they both walked down a little distance, and turned round—I followed down—they looked at me two or three times—they both crossed the road and walked about 100 yards, opposite another pawnbroker's—they stood there for perhaps nearly a minute looking to see if I followed—they turned down Wellington Place—I walked to the corner, and I had lost sight of them—there was a urinal about fifty yards up Wellington Place, and in the middle of the road—I went to the opposite end of it—just before I got there, the other men and the prisoner came out and walked sharply off in the opposite direction—I followed—the other man looked round and said, "Look out, Harry!"—they began to run—I gave chase—I was in plain clothes—I was within arm's length of the prisoner, but I found he was gaining on me—I put out my stick, meaning to catch him round the leg, but it caught his nose, making it bleed—I caught hold of him—he acted as if faint at first, then he struggled and threw me to the ground—we struggled—he got me over and got hold of my—; at that moment a uniform man came up, and took him—I said
to the prisoner, "I am a constable, what have you got in your pockets?"—he said, "I am not going to show you out in the streets. I know what you are, and I have seen you following us. If I had known you were coming for me I would have given you something for your trouble"—I conveyed him to Deptford Police-station—I asked him to turn out his pockets, and he pulled out these handkerchiefs and silk mufflers from nearly every pocket he possessed, some from his trousers, and some from his coat pockets—I said, "How do you account for the possession of these?"—he said, "They are all stolen. You have got the wrong man. You ought to have had the other man. He was the right one. I did not know there was anything wrong about them, though, till he told me you were following us. I met him by appointment at the Red Lion this morning, and he asked me to carry them for him. I suppose I am let in for it, and I must drop into it"—the handkerchiefs were shown to the prosecutor, and he identified them—other handkerchiefs have since been found pledged which the prosecutor has identified—the prisoner was taken to the Kentish Town Police-station and charged—I found 39s. in silver and 4 1/2 d., a knife, and a Waterbury watch on him—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. You both came out of the urinal about three yards before I got to the other end of it—I could not see which way the other man went; I had enough to do to look after you.
GEORGE AYRES . I am assistant to Walter Johnson, pawnbroker, of 34, Lower Road, Deptford—about 10.30 a.m. on 1st February these two handkerchiefs were pledged at our shop by a young man who gave the name of John Watson.
ARTHUR OGLEWOOD . I am a pawnbroker's assistant, at 125, Evelyn Street, Deptford—these two handkerchiefs were pledged with me about eleven a.m. on 1st February by a young man who gave the name of John Watson—I do not identify the prisoner as that man.
The prisoner called.
GEORGE GOFF . I am a tobacconist, of 18, Old Kent Road—on 31st January the prisoner was in my shop from seven till 11.30, when I closed my shop up—he is a customer, and he stayed with about three others—I think we had a drink at the shop; I remained there at work till I closed the shop—the prisoner is only a customer—we were talking.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he knew nothing of the breaking and entering; that he received the goods from William Hickey, whom he had known far about two years as an honest, hard-working man, and that he knew nothing of their having been stolen.
GUILTY of receiving.
There was another indictment against the prisoner for breaking and entering and Stealing and receiving handkerchiefs. SERGEANT LEONARD stated that the prisoner was one of the most notorious thieves in London, and a most dangerous man, and the habitual associate of a dangerous gang of thieves. Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, March 10th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. GILL Defended.
WILLIAM CROSS (City Police Inspector). I was present at Guildhall Police-court when Mr. Arthur Anderson was a witness—his deposition was taken down, and he was examined by Mr. Gill on behalf of the prisoner. (The deposition of Arthur Anderson was here put in and read.)
DAVID MATHER BOWIE . I am a solicitor, and acted for Mr. Anderson in relation to a deed of indemnity—he gave me instructions prepare it—it was arranged that a loan was to be made to him by the Eagle Insurance Company—Mr. Anderson and Mr. Paxton were to guarantee the loan, and the prisoner and his two brothers were to indemnify him—on June 14th the prisoner called on me, and asked me to prepare the deed at once, as his brother John was coming to town from Edinburgh, and he hoped to get payment from the insurance company the next day—in consequence of that I had the deed drawn and engrossed, and posted it to the prisoner on the 14th—there were no signatures to it then—he came again on the 15th, and it then had his signature and the other two—the signature "Stephen Ralli" purports to be done in the presence of a witness at White's Club, St. James's, and the signature "John Ralli" in the presence of H. Munro, 5, Wilton Place, S. W., and the prisoner's signature in the presence of J. Besson, 5, Pelham Place, South Kensington—the signature "H. Munro" appears to be in a different writing to the others—when he brought it he said he had got the deed executed, that he met his brother John at King's Cross, and they breakfasted together, and he got his signature at the station—he left the deed with me, and on June 18th the money was paid to him.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner half a dozen times, and Mr. Anderson once; I asked the prisoner no questions as to where he got the signatures—I do not know John or Stephen.
JOHN ALEXANDER RICHARDS . I am solicitor to the Eagle Insurance Company, which agreed to make a loan of £5,000 to the prisoner—I paid the cheque, after deducting expenses and premium—I afterwards recovered the money from Mr. Anderson and Mr. Paxton.
JOHN RALLI . I am the prisoner's brother, and am in the Army—the signature, "John Ralli," on this deed is not mine—I do not recollect whether I was at 5, Wilton Place on the morning of June 15th, 1892; that is my brother's address—I cannot say whether I came up from Scotland on the night of June 14th, 1892; I came up several times—I know no person named H. Munro; my brother may have had somebody staying with him—I do not recollect his telling me so—I first knew of the existence of this deed about May, 1893, when I saw it at the office of Messrs. Ashurst, Morris, Crisp and Co.—at that time I was a bankrupt in Scotland—the sequestration of my affairs had taken
place in September, 1892—in May, 1893, a claim had been made, I believe, upon my estate under this deed—I was in London, and went to Messrs. Ashurst's office to inspect the deed—I was afterwards examined in I bankruptcy, on oath, in reference to it, and said, "A deed of indemnity, I dated June 18th, 1892, purporting to be signed by myself and my brother, I was not mentioned in my statement of affairs, because I had no recollection of it; the signature is not mine; I did not authorise my signature to be appended to that deed," or words like that.
Cross-examined. In the bankruptcy I was being examined as a witness—questions were asked me, and I answered them—a question was asked me by some person representing the creditors, whether I agreed to become security for my brother—it was objected to by the trustee, and I was not allowed to answer it—I was not seen by Mr. Anderson before I gave evidence at the Police-court—no statement was taken from me by a solicitor—I said at the Police-court, "I was always on the very closest terms with my brother"—I was on the terms of closest friendship—my brother Stephen and the prisoner and I have always been most affecttionate brothers—that has always been known and always will be—I also" said, "I was always prepared, as far as I could, to assist my brother; I never refused to sign any document for him"—that is absolutely true—and, "I have, in fact, frequently signed documents for him. I have given him authority to use my name. I had such confidence in him that I would have signed this deed or any document he asked me to sign "—I knew he was in financial difficulties, which he hoped to tide over—I was in Scotland during 1892—I came to town several times to see my brother, and to sign documents for him—there was a little difficulty sometimes as to getting home, and I incurred some expense in doing it—I spoke to my brother about it, and told him I would trust him with regard to any question of raising money—at that time the question of his having the use of my signature for raising money was discussed—I asked him I some arrangement could not be come to to save me the trouble and expense of coming up to town—he might have made me liable to the last penny if it had been useful to him—I had signed several bills on which money was realised—I had no knowledge at that time what my share of the reversion was—I knew Mr. Paxton well.
Re-examined. The authority I gave my brother was without any limit—he was better acquainted with the condition of my affairs than I was "myself—I gave him leave to use my name just before this transaction——just before I became bankrupt my liabilities were about.£18,000; it might be more and it might be less—I was quite indifferent, and my brother too—I think I was in a position to indemnify anybody against a liability of £3,500—my assets were practically nil.
By them COURT. I said before the Magistrate that the conversation at the club was that he might do so provided he did not do so so as to injure my position in the Army; that the limit was to be within my limits—many of my liabilities were incurred on his behalf, so that he was quite aware of them—the whole of the £18,000 was what I had become liable for, for him.
By MR. AVORY. When I had a difficulty about coming to town to sign a deed it occurred to me that it might be posted to me, but he was in a hurry very often—I know no reason why it could not have been sent to
me in Scotland, and executed there—I saw the deed at Messrs. Ashurst's office before I was examined—I did not say a word about having given my brother authority to sign my name; I never said a word—I went away with Mr. Brandon, another solicitor, who had taken me there, and I told him that the signature was not mine.
CHARLES JOHN MUNRO . I am a chartered accountant of Edinburgh, and am trustee of the estate of the last witness, which was sequestrated in September, 1892—a claim was made by Messrs. Anderson and Paxton, which is in process; it is not admitted yet—I was present at the examination of John Ralli—this book (produced) contains a correct record of the questions, and of his answers—I am able to say nothing but what appears in this journal—the liabilities under the bankruptcy are £23,414 14s.—the assets of the reversionary interest are £5,380—there are also two horses, harness, and jewellery, valued at £120—the liabilities, all but about £100, were incurred on behalf of his brother—he has not benefited by it himself—in Scotland no examination is allowed as to the claim of any creditor, or as to knocking off of any claim—the value of a reversion is always an uncertain matter—a trustee in Scotland does not allow what we call deliverances till he is declaring a dividend.
WILLIAM CROSS (Re-examined). I went to Calais on January 31st and received the prisoner in custody from the French police under a warrant which I received at Guildhall Police-court on October 19th, 1893, and endeavoured to execute it, but could not find the prisoner—on December 16th I ascertained that he was in France, and the ordinary demand was made through the Foreign Office for his extradition—about December 20th the police received a communication from Mr. Anderson's solicitor on the matter three or four days after application had been made for extradition—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I have told my solicitor all about it"—I cannot find any H. Munro at 5, Wilton Place.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in prison in France from December 16th to January 31st, waiting to come over—I know what kind of places they keep prisoners in there; our prisons are palaces to them—the warrant on which he was handed over, was for uttering a forged deed purporting" to be signed by John Ralli; this is a copy of it—there was no judicial inquiry in Calais.
MR. GILL submitted that the first, third, and fourth Counts were bad, as they contained charges not contained in the warrant upon which the prisoner was extradited, as the Act provided that a man is only to be tried upon the charge upon which he is sent to this country. MR. AVORY contended that the information contained all the facts upon which the extradition was granted. The RECORDER declined to withdraw the case, but would state a case if it became necessary.
Evidence for the Defence.
remember the prisoner in 1892 wanting to raise money, and speaking to Mr. Anderson and me about it—I discussed the matter with Mr. Anderson about being security for the money—Mr. Ralli was in the same department as me, and said he had no doubt the money would be paid back in five years, from what he and his partner were making—he mentioned giving security one day when he was luncheoning with me, and I said "Oh, very well"—I absolutely refused to take part in the criminal proceedings against him—I spoke to Mr. Anderson on the matter.
Cross-examined. I knew that he had gone to Australia late in the autumn of 1892—I think he was in difficulties when he went, but I don't know that he has been made bankrupt yet; perhaps he thought his very rich relations would settle it—I did not think he would come back from Australia so soon as he did, but I thought he would come back some day—when he came back I saw Mr. Anderson, who was very angry; he swore—I am not certain whether Messrs. Ashuret acted for me on the original deed—they acted, and then there were some bankruptcy proceedings in Scotland—I saw the deed, I think, in May, 1893; I am not swearing it—I was going to make a claim on the estate—I was then under the impression that the deed had been signed by John Ralli, or by his authority—I had seen him, and knew he had a brother in the Army.
Re-examined. I instructed my solicitor to press the claim upon John. Ralli's estate about three weeks before he was arrested—it was well known that the brothers were on very close terms of friendship—I knew that they helped each other.
MR. AVORY here put in the original information.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Saturday, March 10th 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HEDDON Prosecuted; MR. OVEREND Defended Horne; and MR. WALLACE Defended Prescott.
ANNIE LEMON . I am servant to. Mr. Walker, of 13, Pelham Place South Kensington—on 9th January last I went to bed at a quarter past ten, after locking up the house—about half-past seven in the morning, on going into the dining-room, I missed the clock from the sideboard—this (produced) is it—I noticed that the window was open; the catch had been forced from the outside—nothing else was missed.
CHARLES WILLIAM WYATT . This is my clock—it is a chronometer by Frodsham; it cost my father £60—it was a presentation to him, together with a lot of plate and other things, when he ceased to be agent to Lord Penrhyn—there is no inscription on it.
NELSON FRANCIS . I keep the Pilgrim Public-house, at 47, Upper Kennington Lane—it is a fully-licensed house—I am also book-keeper in a merchant's office in the City, and have been so for twenty-eight years—on Sunday afternoon, 21st January, between one and two, Home came in—I have known him twenty-five years—I heard him openly, in the saloon
bar, say to two or three customers, "If anyone wants to buy a clock, a friend of mine has one for sale; he wants £10 for it"—I heard what he said, and I said, "What kind of clock is it, Jimmy?"—he replied "I don't know what description of clock it is; if you will meet me to-morrow I will bring my friend here"—he fixed the time, I think one o'clock, but I did not arrive home from the City till about a quarter to two—he brought Prescott with him, and introduced him to me—it was the usual introduction, "Let me introduce you to my friend who has the clock for sale"—I asked Prescott upstairs into my private sitting-room—Home remained downstairs in the saloon bar—Prescott showed me the clock—this looks like it—I have no doubt it is the clock; I have never seen one like it before—Frodsham's name is familiar to me, as one of the first makers in London—this is the clock—I said to Prescott, "That clock will be no use to me; I want a drawing-room clock"—he said, "Why not buy it on speculation?"—I said, "No, it is no use to me"—he asked £10 for it—on going downstairs I said I would not mind giving £4 10s.—he smiled at the offer, rather laughed at it—when we got into the saloon bar he said, "Well, the lowest price is £7; will you have it?"—that was in the presence of Home—I replied, "No, it is no use to me," and they went away—about a quarter to four the same day Prescott came back alone, and said, "I will accept your offer for £4 10s., though it is a ridiculously low price"—Mr. Henry, a jeweller, was present in the saloon bar—he did carry on business in Newington Butts at that time as a jeweller—I think he was a kind of manager there—he did not offer any observation; he did not see the clock till afterwards—I had not sufficient money in the place at the time—I had lodged my money at the bank on the Monday—I paid him £2 10s. in cash, and I was going to give him a blank cheque for the balance—I mean a blank form, a piece of paper, to write a cheque on, but I did not do that—they both went away—it was arranged that he was to come back next day for the money—he left the clock—Horne was not there when the £2 10s. was paid—Prescott came back next day alone between three and four, and I paid him the balance in cash, £2—after I paid him I saw him hand Horne 10s. as commission—Home did not come at first; he was present when the money was paid; he said it was his commission; he said that in the presence of Prescott when the balance was paid—I am asked him for a receipt in the usual way—this is what he gave me. (Read: "Mr. Francis. Bought of Mr. Davidson, dealer in precious stones, &c., a ship's chronometer by Frodsham, £20.—Received, M. DAVIDSON.")
By the COURT. I saw Prescott sign that—I did not know what his name was; no name was mentioned—I made no observation when that receipt was handed to me; I did not read it—the only observation that was made was made by Prescott—he said, "I will give you a receipt for £20; this will enable you to make a bit out of it"—I took the receipt, and put it in my pocket, and they both went away—I did not ask where he got the clock from, or who he was—I did not form any opinion as to the value of the clock; I had never seen one before; I should suppose it was worth about £10; it was not a bit of use to me.
By MR. HEDDON. I took Mr. Henry up to look at the clock—he said something to me; in consequence of that I went to see Inspector Lusk at Kennington Lane Station.
Cross-examined by MR. OVEREND. During the twenty-five years I have
known Horne I found him to be a most respectable man, or I should never have entertained this—he was almost daily at my house—when he came with Prescott the clock was in a large tin hox, or travelling case—it was not opened in his presence—nothing took place at that time in the way of selling—later Prescott came back alone, and the sale was effected—Horne was not there then—on the Monday Prescott said that he had to give Horne 10s. as a commission on the introduction—on the following day, when I gave Prescott the balance, I learnt that Prescott came first, and Horne followed, twenty minutes afterwards—when I arrived they were there together—Horne said something about thinking the thing had gone off, and he did not expect to see Prescott there—Prescott did not go away first, and Home did not remain and spend a shilling there—he spent a shilling in Prescott's presence, and after that they left together—Mr. Henry first saw the clock after the receipt was given—he saw the whole transaction—he did not say anything in the presence of the prisoners; he said it to me—I believe Horne is in fair circumstances; I believe he is connected with his son in a music-hall business, and has a royalty on his services.
Cross-examined by MR. WALLACE. I think I went to the police on the Wednesday, but I did not see the inspector then, not till the Thursday, when he sent two men to take the particulars of the clock—Prescott offered me the clock for £7 in the saloon bar—there were two persons present—Mr. Henry was in the bar—Mr. Henry was present when the balance was paid, I am positive—I asked no questions, because I had no suspicion—I thought I was dealing with a gentleman introduced by my friend—I was impressed by his appearance.
By the COURT. I did not ask him why he did not take it to a pawnbroker's—I knew the name of Frodsham—I have one of Frodsham's make in my pocket now—I did not suggest a pawnbroker, because Mr. Henry said that such things were not taken in pawn—I don't remember his saying he was selling it for someone, but I fancy he did say something about it—I won't say he did.
Re-examined. I first read the receipt when I read it to Mr. Henry, not before.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective Sergeant L). On the morning of the 27th, about 3.30, in company with Sergeant Gray, I arrested Home in Kennington—I told him it was for being concerned with another man for burglary on the 10th, and "A clock you sold to Mr. Francis is connected with that burglary"—he said, "I recollect Francis bought it for £4 10s."—I asked him if he knew the man who sold it—he said, "I have met him casually four or five times in the last ten years. I know nothing of any burglary, I was given 10s. commission"—on the 29th I arrested Prescott in Gray's Inn Road, in company with another man—I said, "Your name is Piper"—he nodded—I said I should arrest him for being concerned with another man in a burglary on the 10th—I placed him in a cab, and took him to the station—on the way he said, "This is the fruits of doing a man a good turn. I admit I know about the watch, but I know nothing about the burst"—he refused his address and occupation—he subsequently gave it me, as 3, Southampton Row—he said, "Now I know what I am charged with I will give you my address."
Cross-examined by MR. OVEREND. When I took Horne he was suffering from the effects of drink—at first I said, "I shall arrest you for burglary"; and he said, "I know nothing about it"—when I asked him about the other man, he said, "I have met him four or five times, but I don't know who he is or what he is"—Gray was with me when I arrested Prescott—I left him with Gray when I went to Mr. Francis.
Cross-examined by MR. WALLACE. I knew Prescott by sight previous to arresting him.
By the COURT. I knew him as the associate of betting men and persons of a shady character—I searched his lodging and found papers there; racing papers and betting books—I am quite sure he used the word "burst"—it is a technical word for a burglary—I know a man named Murray—he has been charged with burglary—I saw him in the dock—I did not search his lodging—a tin trunk was found there—it was produced in Court—Prescott said that Murray was the man he had the clock from.
Re-examined. I have never seen him in the company of Murray—the papers I found at his lodging were not connected with this case.
HORNE received a good character—
NOT GUILTY . PRESCOTT, GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. The JURY stated that the witness Francis should be severely censured. The COMMON SERJEANT desired the inspector to report his conduct to the Licensing Justices.
The prisoner stating in the hearing of the JURY that lie desired to PLEAD GUILTY to a common assault, the JURY found that verdict. He received a good character.— Discharged on recognizances.
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 12th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted.
FREDERICK WHITE . I am an insurance agent, of Goldhawk Avenue, Torquay—I saw this advertisement in the Devonshire Express. (Offering to lend money at 6 per cent, for from one to ten years on note of hand only Mr. Clarkson Devonshire Square, Bloomsbury Street, W. C.)—I wrote to Mr. Clarkson and received this letter. (This complained that in his application for a loan of £50 the witness had not said anything about his position, or sent a stamp for the reply)—I wrote again that day, and on November 26th I received this letter: "Sir, I shall be willing to lend you £50. Our agent will make the inquiries. Mr. Babbage will return to town on Wednesday, and will see me on Thursday; so if your application is bona fide send 5s. for expenses, half of which will be returned should the loan not be granted"—I wrote enclosing a postal order for 5s., and then received this letter, promising to lend the money, and asking for P.O.O. for £3 0s. 6d, for interest and stamp, upon which bank notes
would be sent, and requesting the order to be drawn in favour of John Ward, his cashier, signed "R. Clarkson"—I sent a letter in reply, dated November 30th, and posted it myself, enclosing in it an order for £3. 0s. 6d., and kept this copy (Produced),
F. WHITE (Continued). This is the letter: "Enclosed I send £3. 0s. 6d, If the amount reaches me by Saturday next I will return receipt"—the £50 did not reach me on Saturday, and I telegraphed to Mr. Clarkson, and received this letter from him on December 25th. (From Clarkson, stating that his place had been burnt down, and asking for half the expenses of his agent, who would pay me the £50 in notes; requesting to know where his agent should call, and if Wednesday or Thursday would not suit the P. O. O. would be returned, and half the fee of 2s. 6d., and enclosing an envelope addressed, "Mr. Clarkson, 94, Paul Street, Finsbury ")—on December 4th I telegraphed, "Return £3 3s. without any delay whatever"—I had telegraphed on Saturday, December 2nd, asking him to send the money—his letter reached me on Monday, the 4th, and then I telegraphed, and telegraphed again two hours afterwards—I never got my 5s. back or my £3 0s. 6d. or the £50—I parted with my money because I believed his representations.
JOHN EDWARD THOMPSON . I am a newsagent and bookseller, at 31, Devonshire Square, Bloomsbury—the prisoner called there three or four times for letters addressed there to Mr. Clarkson in November and December last—my premises have not been burnt down.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I picked you out from a crowd of men without any suggestion—I did not look about for two or three minutes first.
HENRY COOPER . I am manager to the last witness—the prisoner came last November and asked if we took in letters—I said "Yes"—he said, "May I have some addressed here?"—I said "Yes"—he gave the name of Clarkson—about six letters came—he came every day.
Cross-examined. You were with six or seven other men, and I picked you out at once.
GERTRUDE SLATER . I am the daughter of Caroline Slater, of 94, Paul Street, Finsbury—at the end of November the prisoner called and asked if he might have letters left there in the name of R. Clarkson—I consented, and a letter or telegram and a newspaper came for him.
Cross-examined. A gentleman brought two or three photographs to the shop, and I picked yours out—I hive no doubt you are the man who came to the shop for letters.
MICHAEL MCGARRAN . I live at Chelsfield, Sligo, and am a member of, the Royal Irish Constabulary—on September 14th I saw this advertisement in the Freeman's Journal. (The same as the former one, only giving the address of Mr. Ryan, 52, Cromer Street, London, W.)—I answered it, and got this letter. (From P. Ryan, word for word as in the former case, offering to lend the witness £30, stating that he had wired to his travelling agent for the district to make the necessary inquiries, and asking for 5s. for expenses, half of which to be returned if the loan was not effected)—on December 14th I enclosed a postal order for 5s., and received this reply,
dated December 15th. (Stating that the inquiries were satisfactory, and requesting the witness to send an order for £1 16s. 6d. for expenses and stamp duty, upon which six £5 notes would be sent)—I sent the order for £1 16s. 6d., and received this letter: "Delay unavoidable. Fuller particulars to-morrow.—Yours truly, in haste, P. RYAN"—I never got the £30, or any part of it—I believed it was a genuine money lending office, and that the person was able to lend the money—these are the letters I wrote.—(Found at the prisoner's lodgings.)
AUGUSTUS ALEXANDER . I am a signwriter, of 41, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square—at the end of November my mother kept a newspaper shop at the end of Cromer Street—the prisoner called there, and asked if we would receive letters for him, P. Ryan—he said he had offices at Gresham Chambers, and I should find the name on the door—fifteen or twenty letters came, mostly with Irish post-marks, which I handed to him—he carried on no business at Cromer Street—these (produced) are some of the letters that came.
Cross-examined. My mother has left—the old man in the shop was a lodger—I saw you next at Clerkenwell—I did not pick you out from other men, but from some photographs—I have no doubt you are the man.
JAMES URIE . I live at 63, Cropley Street, Hoxton—the prisoner came to lodge there—I knew him as Mr. Francis—he occupied the front kitchen at 3s. 3d. a week—I have received no rent from him since September 15th except a few shillings—I understood he was a jeweller.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Francis paid the rent, and when she fell out of work no more was paid.
JOHN NOLAN (Detective. Sergeant). I saw the prisoner detained at Hoxton Station, and said, "Mr. Clarkson"—he said, "No; my name is Francis"—I said, "I have a summons for you for obtaining five shillings from Mr. White by fraud"—he was taken to the station, and the witnesses identified him at once—he was charged, and made no reply—I went to 31, Devonshire Square—it had no appearance of a loan office—I went to Cromer Street, and received these four letters and telegrams from Alexander—the house is still standing; there was no appearance of fire—I have searched for Gresham Chambers, but cannot find them.
Prisoner's defence. There has been no handwriting proved, and there is no proof that I received the money. I was never in either of the shops in my life. I am sold by the police; it is the most rascally affair I ever read or heard of. I am not guilty.
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on October 29th, 1890, at this Court, and two other convictions (one of burglary) were proved against him.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
The prisoner received an excellent character
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT, Monday, March 12th, and
NEW COURT, Thursday, March 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY, A. F. GILL, and STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. CLARKE HALL and CAMPSBELL Defended.
SHELDON DUDLEY DRIVER . I live at 20, Denmark Terrace, Brighton—I am a member of the Stock Exchange—Mrs. Ashby is my aunt; she is seventy-four years of age, and a widow with no children—I have known her all my life—in 1879 she was in a lunatic asylum, Woodend House, Hayes, Dr. Selworth's—she was afterwards transferred to Bishops Town House, Bedford; afterwards to Apsley House at Ealing, under Dr. McWinney—she left that place about April 13th, 1883—she was then practically well—she was discharged "Relieved"—a house was taken for her, and in 1885 the house, 25, Sunnyside Road, Ealing, was taken, when the old servant left, and the prisoner was engaged, so that she should be well looked after—I took the house in my name to save her all trouble—she was my mother's sister—she got tired of living with the old servant, who had a husband and child, and it was inconvenient to have these people in her house—the old servant died a month ago—Mrs. Ashby engaged the prisoner in 1885, and I was annoyed at her taking a girl of about fifteen—she had an allowance at Dr. McWinney's, and her relations, the committee, agreed through me to let her have £150 a year—I paid her rent and sent her £5 a month, and also any taxes, clothes, or other extras that she wanted—the rent was £34 a year, afterwards £32—the money was generally sent by hand by the old servant, who had been in my service for the last fifty years—she was my old housekeeper—if I was at Brighton I sent it by post—latterly the maid acknowledged it by postcard—I cannot tell for how long she acknowledged it, but for more than a year—whatever money I was asked for I always sent—she was eccentric, and had delusions—she believed she suffered from stoppage of the bowels within the last year—these are two of the letters with which I have sent money. (Dated January 14th, 1894, and March 10th, 1893, each enclosing a cheque for £5)—I believed the prisoner discharged her duty to my aunt, and kept the place clean, and so on—I believe I went to see my aunt last spring, but, at all events, last Christmas year, but she did not care about my going—I noticed nothing dirty about the house—from what I heard I spoke to the prisoner about the place being dirty, and she said she was exceedingly sorry, and she promised faithfully that the place should be kept perfectly clean—I suggested a charwoman being called in, but neither Mrs. Ashby nor the servant wished it—Mrs. Ashby was then able to talk quite rationally, but was very much thinner—she was a very strong woman up to a few years ago, and very large in physique—she seemed capable of managing her own affairs, but was very nervous and uncertain—she seemed sorry to see me, then asked me questions, and then would want to see me again
—these were old delusions which I can remember she had as a child, and that was her condition when I last saw her—these papers (produced) are in her writing—she used to write to the servant—I went to see the place After the police got in—the place seemed to have been made a dust-bin so far as every kind of rubbish goes—she was removed on 19th January—I was ill then—these are photographs (produced) showing the condition of he rooms—at Christmas, 1892, I pressed her very hard to go back under medical care—I said, "It is very dull and miserable for you here. I don't think you can be happy," and I begged her to go—she was in a condition to consent, but she said, "Oh, no; nothing could induce me to part with Alice"—I had a cold, and did not notice the smell at the time I went—I went ten days afterwards—there was nothing about my aunt to make it impossible for one person to look after her.
Cross-examined. She engaged the prisoner of her own account, and always showed an affection for her—I believe the prisoner was sixteen, but I remonstrated against engaging one so young—I considered my aunt capable of looking after money matters, and in many things she was perfectly sane—since this case I have heard she did not care about being washed.
Re-examined. She did not like leaving the house in case anyone passing should see her; she was anxious about what other people did, or whether they spoke to her when she left, and she must know about the stamp and postmark of any letter she saw—she was wonderfully well for five years.
WILLIAM TURNER . I am a builder's assistant, at Ealing—on 10th January last I was sent to 25, Sunnyside Road, to mend a pipe—the prisoner answered the door, and told me to come in an hour, as she was in a muddle; the pipe had burst, and she wanted to clear up—I went away, and returned in an hour, but I could make no one hear—I knocked and rang the bell—I waited about ten minutes—on the 13th, and again the following week, I sent someone, and he returned and reported that he could make no one hear—the pipe was repaired about a month ago—I went with the plumber and saw the burst pipe—the prisoner came on the 9th, and I went the following day—I went with the police on 19th January—the place smelled very bad—it was filthy and dirty—there was bad meat all over the scullery, and the sink was half full of fat—under Mr. Driver's orders I removed two cartloads of filth, including bad meat, bad bread, bad eggs, and dirty clothes.
SARAH BATTEY . I live at 18, Park Place, Ealing—I have known the prisoner five years—I have seen her about in the Broadway, Ealing, and at night till ten or eleven o'clock, and for hours at a time—I knew she was supposed to be looking after the old lady—I often said to her, "I wondered what sort of a place she had to be out so much?"—she said "It is all right"—I have known her out sometimes all day long, with her cousin—most days she was out—on one occasion I met her in the Broadway about nine p.m., and she went into my house and stayed till 11.30, when I said, "Oh, Alice, it is getting so late, your old lady will wonder where you are"—she said, "Oh, I wish she was dead."
Cross-examined. I have seen the prisoner out shopping sometimes—I have worked where her cousin worked, and know the prisoner was continually there with her—her reply about her mistress did not frighten me, and I did not think about it—I never saw the old lady out.
ETHER JOHNSON . I live at 27, Sunnyside Road next door to Mrs. Ashby—I never saw her—I have lived there fourteen months, from November, 1892, to January, 1894—I saw the prisoner go out, and have met her our frequently—if she went shopping, she must have had a lot of errands—she was out for hours—the milk can was generally standing outside from morning till night—I heard noises of two women quarrelling through the walls—I thought it was serious—I live with my husband—between two and three a.m. on 19th January, when I was up all night packing for removal on the day, I heard the quarrelling, which gradually grew worse, till I heard the prisoner's voice say, "Will you go into your own room?" Will you go into your own room?"several times repeated, and "If you don't go into your own room I'll do it"—that was said in angry tones, and I heard it through the wall, so that I thought it was time to interfere, as I knew the old lady was by herself—I opened the door, and looked for a policeman—of course I could not find one, so I leaned over my porch and knocked at the door as loud as I could—the prisoner opened the door immediately—I said, "What is the meaning of all this row?"—she said, "There is no row"—I said, "Don't tell me that, I have heard every ward you said; you are quarrelling"—she said, "We are not quarrelling"—I told her I would go and inform the police—I had seen a woman go in on a Saturday a few weeks running, but not lately—I think that was in the summer—she did not look like a charwoman, but a person visiting the prisoner—that was the only person I have seen go into the house—I have seen persons ask admission, and not get in—as a rule the door was not opened, but when it was opened the prisoner said Mrs. Ashby was ill in bed, and could not see anybody—one lady came to me and asked if I knew anything.
Cross-examined. I heard the prisoner's answer once, but admission was refused every time—on many occasions the girl was seen at the upper window—I did watch the house—the quarrelling happened usually when the servant came home late at night—I said so at Brentford—the noises did not appear to be from the old lady scolding the servant, but the reverse, the old lady being the meeker, and the servant the stronger—I was present and heard the evidence at the Police-court—the servant was evidently threatening the old lady.
ARTHUR JAMES COMYN . I am a clerk in the office of the commissioners of Lunacy—I produce from the office documents with reference to the admission of Mrs. Charlotte Ashby into various licensed houses, being medical certificates, orders for admission, and statements of reasons why she should be detained.
S. D. DRIVER (Re-examined). I nearly always sent the money to my aunt by the hands of an old servant named Maria Towley; always in cash—she is ill, suffering from bronchitis—I also sent money by cheque by post—I received postcards from the prisoner in January last, but I never saw her write—I feel almost sure that this (The draft of a letter) in her writing, but I should not like to swear—I have never corresponded with her.
WILLIAM BRIGGS (police Inspector X). I am stationed at Ealing—on January 19th I received information, and went with sergeant Fulton to 35, Sunnyside Road—I knocked and rang, but got no answer—the drain at the back of the house was stopped up—there was filth in the garden,
and all the blinds at the back of the house were drawn down—we went away for about five minutes, and returned with Inspector Newman, and decided to break into the house—we knocked, and received no reply—we made a pretence of breaking in, and in a few moments the back door opened, and the prisoner ran out—she was trembling, and hardly able to stand from agitation—I said, "Where is Mrs. Ashby?"—she said, "She is ill, you cannot see her"—I said, "We are determined to see her, and we shall see her"—we were in uniform—I went into the scullery, and there and in the kitchen found an accumulation of filth and decomposed food, things running with maggots, excrement about the floors, no water in the house, and quart milk cans full of decomposed milk—the stench was awful, and I became sick, and had to go into the open air—we went back again, and were compelled to smoke; we thought it was not safe to go in without—in the back parlour or dining-room there was an accumulation of leach, eggs, decomposed milk in cans looking like cotton wool, there was fungus on it; more eggs in bags, tied at the corners; in the fireplace there was a heap of ashes and a fire burning—we went upstairs, and on the landing there was a filthy mattress—the stench was worse there than downstairs—the w.c. upstairs was stopped, and there was no water in the house; the pipes had burst and had not been repaired—the bath had been used as a cesspool; there was excrement in it and a broken chamber—the rooms were in total darkness—I said to the prisoner, "Where is Mrs. Ashby?"—she pointed to the first floor back room, and said, "In there"—we went in, but were unable to remain, the stench was too awful—in a few minutes we went in again—the blinds were down—I said, "Where is the old lady?"—the prisoner said, "Lying there"—I pulled the blinds up, and saw Mrs. Ashby lying on a mattress on a bedstead near the door—she had a chemise on, and was covered by a thin, torn, dirty sheet, with blood on it, and part of a torn blanket over her feet—her age is seventy-four—there was no fire—close to the bed and immediately under her nose was a night-stool full of liquid excrement and urine—I said to her, "Do you know me?"—I found she was partially blind—she said, "Are you Dr. Hogg?"—I said "No; have you any complaint to make against your servant?"—she hesitated, and seemed very childish, and said, "No, no"—I said, "Has your servant at any time assaulted you?"—she said "No"—I noticed her emaciated condition, and we left the room—did not tell her we were police officers; I thought it might upset her—I said to the prisoner, "Have you any cooking utensils in the place?"—she said, "Yes," and from the filth in the kitchen she produced one sauce pan, and said, "I sometimes cook in that"—she said she received money from Mr. Driver, of Brighton, to look after the old lady, but that none of the family had been near her since November last—I called in Dr. Patten, the medical officer, the same morning—he came, and in the prisoner presence Mrs. Ashby said that in the bitter weather she had no fire in the room—the doctor mentioned the bitter weather; the prisoner said nothing—I examined the grate, and there certainly had been no fire for months—we then communicated with the relieving officer—I found the bundle of notes in the sideboard drawer in the dining-room.
Cross-examined. A great deal of the food about the place had not been
touched, and was uncooked—the prisoner said, "How can I help it if the old lady won't eat any?"—she said the only thing she would eat was Benger's food, and produced a tin of it with very little out of it—it is a patent food for invalids and infants—she also showed me a tin of ox-tail soup, that had not been touched—there was a fire in the room in which the prisoner said she occasionally slept—I could see no place where she could sleep—I suggest that she slept out of the house, but we have no evidence of it—her dress and boots were clean.
Re-examined. She pointed to a mattress in the old lady's room, and said, "I sometimes sleep there," but there was no bedding on it.
GEORGE FULTON (Detective Sergeant). I went with the two inspectors on the second visit—the prisoner was left in my charge at 25, Sunnyside Road—after the inspectors had gone, she said, "What are they going to do to me?" I said, "Undoubtedly charge you with neglecting your mistress"—she said, "How can I help it if the old lady won't eat?"—I said, "Does not she eat anything at all?"—she said, "Only Benger's food" we were then in the dining-room, and she was in the act of burning some letters which were in a box, but I stopped her—there was a fire in the grate—she handed me a letter which she said she had received from Brighton on Monday last—she did not say from whom—I saw a lot of scraps of paper and letters, with parts scraped, and I asked her what they were—she said they were letters she wrote for the old girl to look at before she sent them off—this is like one of them—they were acknowledging money. (This acknowledged the receipt of £5, and requested that another £5 be sent at soon as possible, and stating that Mrs. Ashby had been ill all the winter)—I took her to the Police-court, and, as we walked along, she said, "I can't make the old lady out; she won't eat fish or meat, and I only get £5 a month from Mr. Driver to keep us both, and I have to take my wages out of that"
CHARLES ARTHUR PATTEN . I am medical officer of health at Ealing—the police called me to 25, Sunnyside Road—I have heard their evidence as to the state of the house; it is quite correct—it was bound to be extremely deleterious to the health of any persons occupying the house—I had heard rumours of ill-treatment of the old lady, and asked her to allow me to inspect her body, which she did, but I only found some trifling bruises—she was in a most offensive state, lying in her own excrement—one girl would undoubtedly have difficulty in attending on her—the commode by the bedside was in a filthy state—lunatics sometimes require something like control—I should say that the place must have been grossly neglected for three months at least—the bed-clothing was in a filthy state—she was suffering from the influence of poisoned air, and it could not have gone on long—as to its not affecting the prisoner, she was more in the air, and she is young and strong—I should have expected it to start an epidemic all over the place, and if it had not been for the cold weather it would have happened—it would generate typhus and typhoid.
WILLIAM ASHFIELD . I am relieving officer of Brentford—on January 29th the police called me to 25, Sunnyside Road, where I found Mrs. Ashby in bed—I took her to the workhouse—she was removed from there by her
friends, but not till last Saturday week, as they had nowhere to take her to—her body was extremely dirty.
ALBERT BRYAN DAN . I am medical officer of the Infirmary, Isleworth—Mrs. Ashby was brought there, and I examined her, and found her in a filthy state, with bruises on her legs—I asked her how she got them; she said by tumbling out of bed, and they were consistent with that—her knuckles also were bruised—she was very thin and emaciated—she took food well, except meat—she was very much better when she left my charge, ten days ago—she is an old woman for her age—she could walk a little—if she was kept in bed, she would gradually lose the use of her limbs—I found it necessary to cut her hair off, as it was full of vermin—in my opinion, from her mental condition, she was not fit to take care of herself—she had been neglected.
Cross-examined. She had a perfect mania for a perient medicines, and she might have had them before she came in.
MR. HALL submitted that there was no case to go to the JURY; the evidence did not disclose any offence in law. The first Count being a Common Law Count, the COURT had no jurisdiction unless death had supervened; and the second Count did not support the indictment, as the prisoner was engaged by Mrs. Ashby as her servant, not by Mr. Driver to take charge of a lunatic; and further, that there was no evidence of ill treatment, which must be distinguished from neglect. MR. GILL contended that the objecttions ought to have been taken to quash the indictment before plea, and that they could only be heard now on a motion for arrest of judgment. (Cases referred to: Reg. v. Pelham, 82 B. Reports, p. 959; Reg. v. Shaw, 1, Crown cases reserved, p. 145; Reg. v. Instan, 12 B. Reports, 1893, p. 450; Reg. v. Hurry, Cent. Crim. Ct. Sessions Papers, Vol. 76; and Reg. v. Friend Russell and Ryan, 1801, p. 20). The COMMON SERJEANT considered that it was unnecessary to decide these points, as these was abundant evidence to go to the JURY on the third Count, which he left to them.
S. D. DRIVER (Re-examined). My aunt had £34 a year of her own, and the difference between that and £5 a month was furnished by me and her relations—when I sent the old servant with the money, she had not to bring back a receipt, only an account of her health—she used to spend the greater part of the day with Mrs. Ashby—the last money I sent by post was on October 24th—the old servant did not go there after that—we were all ill at Brighton, and were unable to go and look after the old lady—I always asked the old servant to ascertain how the money was spent—I have had no account since October 24th of how the money was spent, only the receipt—I did not go personally—I tried to get the old lady into a doctor's family, but I believed that this girl, having got accustomed to her peculiarities, she would attend to her.
The JURY found the prisoner guilty of gross neglect, but not of any criminal intention; upon which the COURT directed a verdict of
NOT GUILTY The JURY stated that they considered that proper supervision was not exercised by Mrs. Ashby's relatives.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, March 14th and 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., with MESSRS. C. F; GILL and BODKIN, Prosecuted, and MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and RUBIE Defended.
This prosecution arose out of an action for libel, tried before SIR HENRY HAWKINS in the High Court of Justice, in which the present defendant and his wife were plaintiffs, and Mr. Henry Labouchere defendant. The assignments of perjury were that the Zierenbergs falsely represented that in carrying on a home, called the St. James's Home for Inebriates, and other projects, they were possessed of certain properties and resources for that purpose (enumerating them), whereas they were without any such means, and were living upon charitable contributions obtained by fraudulent representations.
HARRY SCOTT . I am a clerk in the Central Office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce the record in the action of Charles and Wilhelmina Matilda Frederica Emily Clara Zierenberg (plaintiffs) and Henry Dupres Labouchere (defendant)—the writ is dated 12th December, 1892—I produce the statement of claim and the reply—the verdict and judgment was for the defendant.
Cross-examined. I was present at the proceedings at the Police-court—the prosecution was then conducted by Sir George Lewis, appearing for Mr. Labouchere.
By MR. GILL. It was a private prosecution until the committal.
The transcript of the shorthand notes of the evidence given by Charles Zierenberg on the trial of the action was put in, and large portions of it were read to the JURY.
HERBERT FERDINAND SWINSTEAD . I live at 46, Colebrook Road, Camberwell—from 1884 to 1890 I was secretary to the St. James's Temperance Lecture Hall Co., Limited—I knew the defendant and Mrs. Zierenberg—I was daily seeing them while I was secretary—I know the defendant's handwriting—these (produced) are letters ranging from 1868 to 1869—the headings, "16, Rupert Street, Upper Holloway," and the signature, "W. Zierenberg," are his writing, and this is Mrs. Zierenberg's signature—and I believe the signatures to these seven other letters, from August, 1874, to August, 1875, to be the defendant's writing—they are in German—I do not know the German characters.
WILLIAM HENRY STUBING . I am a translator to the Translation. Agency, Holborn Viaduct—I understand German and English—I have had the fifteen letters before me, and produce correct translations of them. (These were put in and read; they chiefly consisted of applications for money and acknowledgement of the receipt of the same from Viscount Sterne.)
CHARLES L'ENFANT . I am a clerk in the London Bankruptcy Court—I produce a file of proceedings in the liquidation of Charles Zierenberg, of 16, Newgate Street, City—the petition was filed on 11th September,
1873, by himself—there is a statement of account—the amount of the liabilities is £2,346 18s. 8d., partly secured to Mr. Mann,£2,100, fully secured £700—the discharge was granted' on 28th July, 1874—I also have another file, a petition by Mr. Mann, in September, 1873, for a liability of £2,100 on a promissory note for £2,200, given by Charles Zierenberg, on 7th September, 1874, on the application of Mann—that petition was in respect of the non-payment of the promissory note.
JOHN DANIEL VINEY . I am senior partner in the firm of Viney, Price, and Goodge, chartered accountants, 95, Cheapside—in October, 1875, I was appointed trustee to a deed of assignment of Charles Zierenberg made in favour of his creditors—this is his signature—as a consideration to the creditors for agreeing to that deed, an assignment was made by Mrs. Zierenberg of certain property, of which she alleged herself to be possessed—this is the document—among the creditors of Zierenberg I find Viscount Sterne, £100 for money borrowed by the prisoner—Zierenberg's liability at that date was £3,133 12s. 2d—I realised nothing by the conveyance, and nothing from the book debts, which were £60 odd—the £3,000 was principally for goods, supplied to the shop in Newgate Street, and a smaller shop—the dividend which the creditors got was 1s. 0 5/8 d.—the property in the assignment was said to be Mrs. Zierenberg's—I went to Brixton to see the prisoner—before I went into the house I saw him through a bow window moving about—we got nothing.
By the COURT. There was a meeting of creditors, and they threatened bankruptcy, and Mrs. Zierenberg said rather than he should be made bankrupt she would give up some of her private property for the benefit of the creditors—every effort was made to realise what we could; we only got 1s. 0 5/8 d.
By MR. GILL. I went to Brixton because I could not get him to attend at my office; he was always stated to be ill—when I got into the house I found him lying on a couch covered with wrappers—he said he was in great agony, and he could not give me any information—it was only three or four minutes before that I had seen him moving about the rooms—I never got any information from him about the property at Marian Strasse or Pomerania.
Cross-examined. I am not sure that he was ill in 1875; he said he was—I was examined before Mr. Justice Hawkins—I might have been asked hen if I knew about the Marian Strasse property, and I said I did not; I had never heard of it till Mrs. Zierenberg spoke of it; I had heard that there was such a property in existence formerly, but it was mortgaged and sold before.
SYDENHAM HALL . I am a clerk in the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice—I produce a bill of sale, dated April 27th, 1876, given by Charles Zierenberg on furniture and effects at 285, Brixton Road, in favour of William Smith, for £50, to be repaid by twelve monthly installments of £4 3s. 4d.
WILLIAM SMITH . I live at 47, Upper Rock Gardens, Brighton—in April 1876, the defendant applied to me for a loan of £50 on household furniture at Effra Cottage, Brixton Road—I agreed to make him the advance, taking as security a bill of sale—I gave him £40, payable monthly £4 3s. 4d. for one year, including the expenses of the bill of sale—the instalments were paid regularly—in October that year he came
again to borrow £12 on another bill of sale on the same furniture—I lent it him—that was before he had paid off all the instalments—I think he paid that in two sums of £5; it did not interfere with the other at all; he paid it at all events—the last payment was on 24th April; it was due on the 29th, 1877, and the last payment on the £12 was on 19th July, the same year.
JOHN NATHANIEL WASHBOURN . I am a clerk in the bank of Smith, Payne and Smith—the Rev. J. C. Reichart kept an account there; he was secretary to the Society for the Conversion of the Jews—I produce a copy of his account up to the date of his death in 1872; I have examined it with the ledger—it is correct—after his death his widow continued to keep an account there—I was a clerk at the bank at that time—the account was continued up to her death in 1892—I made a correct copy of her account from 1883 to 1887.
JAMES BRAZIER . I live at 17, Burton Road, Brixton—the Zierenbergs occupied a cottage of mine in Brixton Road in 1875-6—I do not remember the date they left—all the rent was not paid when they left; I believe the last quarter was paid by instalments—I called at the Home in. Kennington Park as I was passing—they took me in, and Madame walked round the place with me—there was a balance due to me of £2 for the quarter that was not paid—I did not get it—I did not ask for it—Mr. Zierenberg let me out, and politely said, "I shall pay no more rent, "and I said, "It is not much, I will give it you."
WILLIAM WALPOLE EATON . I am a butcher at 101, Kennington Road—I assisted my father in 1880 to 1889—I knew the defendant during the time mentioned—I have sold him about thirty pigs in the course of a year, in three or four lots—they were small, lean pigs, about six month old, to fatten and sell at about £2 a-piece—they gave an average of about 18s. each—it takes about three months to fatten a pig—I gave them about £2 a-piece for them then—I used to go to the Home and see them there—they were kept in a sty at the side of St. James's Hall—there was room in the sty for six when they were fattened, not more than ten when they were, lean—they were fed with wash, meal, and potatoes—the Average cost of fattening a pig for three months would be about a shilling a week—the profit on twelve or fourteen in the course of a year would be about £16 or £18.
Cross-examined. They would be largely fed by the refuse from the Home.
WILLIAM WINTER . I am a butcher, at 113, Lambeth Walk—in 1891 I sold pigs to the Zierenbergs, and afterwards bought them back, for a year and five months—I have been to the place and seen the stys, and now many pigs were kept there—I should take the average profit of dealing with pigs in this way would be about £40, the nett profit £11 13s. 6d.—I saw no other pigs but those bought from us—I put them in myself, and fetched them out myself—I estimate the cost of keeping each pig at 1s. a week.
Cross-examined. I saw wash and meal in the troughs—the first lot of pigs brought out was in April, 1891, but they were not my pigs—I bought six pigs then—altogether fifty-three pigs sold, under an average of £2 a-piece, that would amount to £105 15s.
1885, I became acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Zierenberg—I rented some cottages from them—subsequently I assisted them in the management of the temperance hall, St. James's Hall, near the St. James's Home—I took a general interest in everything that was, going on—I superintended the refreshment bars from about May, 1889, to June, 1890, or perhaps later—they were temperance bars—mineral waters and pasty were sold at them, and something tea and coffee—I was to take one-third of the profit—that one-third varied from about 14s. to 20s. a month—I believe I have had conversation with Mrs. Zierenberg in her husband's presence—she has said in his presence the refreshment bars were a great trouble, and not profitable.
Cross-examined. I had my own business to look after, and it was only my spare time I could give to it, and I got my wife to manage these bars; at all events, she was always about if I was not there, and I had other people in attendance—a record of all the takings was kept—there was an upstairs bar and a downstairs bar—for four or five months, I should think, I had no superintendence over the upstairs bar; for the rest of the time I had an interest in both bars—from May to December, 1889, the takings were about £54 14s. 5 1/2 d.—I think that must have been the time that I had the interest in only one bar—I don't think I had the two bars in January; I think they were combined in February, I won't be certain about it—in January the takings were £5 12s. 2d., and in February £8 19s.; in March, £13 4s. 10d.; April, £9 5s.—my one-third of profit was 15s. or 16s. per month on an average—I had to pay my expenses out of it—the stuff was supplied to us at cost price; the selling price was taken every night—for part of the time Mrs. Zierenberg bought the stuff, and I bought it for the rest of the time—the profit on aerated waters and so on is about 50 per cent., of which I had one-third, the other two-thirds going to the Zierenbergs—I know nothing about the feeding of the pigs—I have been with Mr. Zierenberg when he has purchased pigs.
Re-examined. I was about the bars, and my wife and I had young ladies and young men attending—payment for them had to come out of my 15s. a month—I never got anything out of it—I got a third of the gross profit, and I only had to pay out of it for servants—Mrs. Zierenberg had twice as much as I had, and she had nothing to pay out of it—if I got £10 a year, or 16s. a month, she would get £20 a year for her own profit—and there was another bar out of which she would get the same profit—before February I had one bar, from February to August I had two, and for that period my one-third profit would be 20s. a month, or £12 a year; and, therefore, her profit would be about £24 a year—I employed an assistant and a boy downstairs and an assistant and a boy upstairs; practically two to each bar—my wife was assisting me always—I did not have to pay her—that was the staff.
HERBERT GROUNDSELL . I am foreman to Messrs. Maughan and Co. mineral water makers—for six months, from September, 1886, to February, 1887, we rented the bar at St. James's Mission Hall, and provided mineral water for it—we made a loss—we ceased to do it ourselves, but we continued to supply to Mr. and Mrs. Zierenberg the mineral waters that were to be sold in the place for a very short time—we supplied less than we used to when we had the bars.
Cross-examined. We supplied the Temperance Hall Company—our contract was with the committee of, the company—we did not supply Mrs. Zierenberg for more than a month after she succeeded the company, so that the time I speak of was when the hall was managed by the committee of the company.
By the COURT. We paid £30 a year, or £15 for the half-year, for the right of carrying on the bar, and after paying that and a young man to wait we made a loss—they got the profit of £30 a year.
SOPHIA HODGES . I live at 16 A, Fountain Road, Tooting—I used to visit the St. James's Hall, Kennington—in consequence of something Mrs. Zierenberg said to me I agreed to take charge of the upper bar, and I took charge of it at the end of 1888, I think, for between eighteen months and two years—the bar was opened twice a week, but I frequently bad to shut it up because there was not enough custom—I was to get a third of the profit, which amounted to 2d. in the 1s.—the lowest I took on one night was 2 1/2 d., and the highest 23s.; that was a special night—Mrs. Zierenberg would pay me my one-third monthly—I cannot quite remember what I received—I had 4s. 7 1/2 d. for one month's profit—that was for the upstairs bar—I don't remember receiving less than that; once or twice it amounted to something more; I cannot remember the amounts; when I moved to Tooting I destroyed my books—I put the takings each evening in a box, and put the amount on a strip of paper, and gave them to Mrs. Zierenberg as I came down.
ANNIE STEVENS . I live at 18, Avenue Road, Kennington—in 1889 for six months I kept one of the bars at the Temperance Mission Hall, which, was open four days a week—I had a share in the profits of 2d. in the shilling—I suppose my average share of profit was about 4s. a week for my time and trouble, but I speak from memory; I had no books—I had the lower bar; not so much was done at the upstairs bar as I did—I had an offer to take the two bars on paying £20 a year for them—from my experience of what could be done I was not prepared to pay as much as that for them.
Cross-examined. Mrs. Zierenberg made me the offer, and I refused it—I could not state exactly to a month when I left.
J. N. WASHBOURN (Re-examined). This is the copy of Mr. Reichardt's account from 1863 to 1873—I find there no credit entry of the receipt of money from Germany, and no sum of £75 as coming from abroad, and no money at all from abroad—I do not find the name of Porson on the credit side of the account from beginning to end—we should call the account a small one—the principal source from which the credit side was made up is an entry of £75 within a few days of every quarter day, from the London Jewish Society—there are entries of what would appear to be interest on shares and stock, the London General Steam Navigation Company, and so on—after his death Mrs. Reichardt kept an account there, and this is the copy of the account from 1873 to 1887, which I described—I find no entry to the credit of the account of money coming from abroad, or foreign drafts or anything of the kind—I do not find the name of Porson on the credit side—there is no payment out of either Mr. or Mrs. Reichardt's account of the sum of £75 in one sum, or two in favour of anybody named Zierenberg—the name of Zierenberg does not appear in the account.
Cross-examined. The counter books, which would show the ingredients composing the credit entries, are destroyed, I fear; they are kept from fifteen to seventeen years, and then destroyed—on October 13th, 1865, January 11th, 1865, March 29th, 1866, July 6th, 1866, January and March, 1867, there is the entry of £75 on the credit side, to which the description from the London Jewish Society is not attached—I think the turnover of the account would be about £450, on an average—there were considerable cheques to self from 1863, £26, £30, and so on.
Re-examined. I have gone through this account, and I find this £300 a year paid in four sums, about the quarter days—I do not see any sum of £37 10s. drawn out twice a year—I do not find any trace of the £75 when the account was continued, after Mr. Reichardt's death, in Mrs. Reichardt's name—those quarterly payments ceased then.
HERBERT FAWCETT . I am a clerk to Messrs. Barclay, Bevan, Tritton and Co., bankers—they kept an account for the Home for Female Inebriates—Charles Zierenberg used to draw the cheques on that account—the account was kept there in 1883—I produce a certified extract from the ledger for August, 1883—I have compared it, and it is correct—I find, on 10th August, 1883, an entry of £50 debited to the loan account of the Home—I find also £50 on 13th August debited to the loan account—that means that £50 was drawn out of the general account—on the other side of the account, I find, under the dates of 10th and 18th August, the payments in, to the Home account, of two sums of £50 each.
Cross-examined. The account was operated on by cheques signed by Charles Zierenberg—I don't know if they were counter-signed; I will try and ascertain.
CHARLES WITHERS . I am a clerk at what was the Central Bank of London, Newgate Street branch—it is now the London and Midland Bank—Mrs. W. Zierenberg kept her private account there in 1883—I have made this extract from the account, and I have examined it with the bank ledger—on August 10th, 1883, I find £65 paid in under the description "sundries"—it was made up of a £50 cheque on Barclay, Bevan and Co., and £15 cash—I do not find a second sum of £50 paid in on August 18th. (The witness was directed to again examine his extract with the bank ledger).
PAUL SIMON JONAS (Interpreted). I am an advocate of the High Court in Berlin—I have practised there for fourteen years—in Berlin there is a land register called the Grundbuch, in which real property in Berlin is registered in the names of the owners—in November last, in company with a member of the firm of Lewis and Lewis, I searched the Grundbuch in Berlin—I have a sealed and certified copy of the extract I made from that book with reference to a house in the Marian Strasse from 1863—I compared my copy with the original—the Grundbuch is kept in a branch of the High Court—it is prohibited to take the Grundbuch from the Court—before an entry is made in the Grundbuch there must be an order of the Judge of the Land Court—the Judge of the Land Court does not give decisions, he has only a voluntary jurisdiction—it is only by consent of the parties that entries are made in the Grundbuch it may be either voluntary, or by order of the Judge—all Berlin property most be entered in this Grundbuch—at the present time all transactions in reference to property must be entered there: we have a
new law since 1872, and since then it has been compulsory to enter it—all the property in Marian Strasse is registered; there are fifty-four houses. (MR. MATHEWS objected to the copy of the book being received as evidence, but MR. JUSTICE GRANTHAM ruled that it was admissible)—on 2nd October, 1863, I find that Mrs. Zierenberg purchased the house, 9, Marian Strasse; the number has since been altered to 51—it appears by the extract that 28,200 thalers, or £4,230, was the price of the house; that the property was subject to a mortgage of £6,200 thalers, or £3,930, so that the actual sum paid by Mrs. Zierenberg was £300, or 2,000 thalers—according to the decision of 31st January, 1865, it was necessary that the property should be sold to pay the mortage interest—200 thalers was due at that time—there was a decision of the Judge for that amount—I cannot say how much else was due—there is a judgment for 200 thalers interest on 31st January, 1865—there was a later charge of 4,000 thalers by Mrs. Zierenberg—I don't know the date of that; the extract does not show it—there is a decision of the Judge as to 1,710 thalers, debts on 15th June, 1864—the property for which she gave 2,000 thalers, plus the mortgage, was subsequently further encumbered to the extent of 1,710 thalers in 1864, and 200 thalers in 1865, and 4,000 thalers in October or November, 1863, as far as I can remember, it is not in the extract—the property was sold in June, 1866, for 21,000 thalers—it was a compulsory sale—I perused the Grundbuch for all the property in the Marian Strasse; I did not find the name of Mrs. Zierenberg in any case except this one—there is no Julius Sachs registered as having a power of attorney from Mrs. Zierenberg—I did not find a power of attorney in any of the papers—I find the full name hero is "Wilhelmina Matilda Frederica Emilia Clara Zierenberg, nee Meyer "—when the property was bought, Charles Zierenberg also signed, as the husband.
Cross-examined. I find from the certified extract that the rental of the house in the Marian Strasse amounts to 2,000 thalers—26,000 thalers had been advanced on mortgage down to October 2nd, 1863—in 1864, 190 thalers were advanced—this copy does not show that in January, 1864, 4,000 thalers were advanced at five per cent; it was in October or November, 1863—I did not find in the Grundbuch the name of an attorney Ellow; the name occurs in the ground acts as Mrs. Zierenberg's attorney—I saw the power of attorney from the Zierenbergs to Ellow.
MR. MATHEWS submitted that upon the 1, st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 12th, and 13th Counts of the indictment there was no case to go to the JURY. The evidence of a person accused of perjury must be met either by the evidence of two witnesses, or by the evidence of one witness supported by strong corroboration. As to some of the Counts, he contended that the assignments alleged statements which the prisoner had never made; and as to others, that no direct evidence had been given by the prosecution to negative the truth of the statements made on oath by the prisoner.
MR. LOCKWOOD having replied, and having stated that he should not ask The JURY to convict upon the tenth and eleventh Counts, MR. JUSTICE GRANTHAM
ruled that there was no legal proof of perjury to go to the JURY, and directed them to find a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LOCKWOOD, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. H. C. RICHARDS Prosecuted.
JOHN LYNN (536 K). I am stationed at West Ham—on the evening of 5th February, at 6.10, I was on special duty in plain clothes on the Sewer Embankment, and saw the prisoners coining towards me—Denny was carrying a parcel under his arm tied in a handkerchief—I stopped him, and asked what he had there—he made no reply, but dropped the parcel of wire, and they both tried to get away—I caught hold of Denny, and tripped up Borrett, who fell down, and got away—I blew my whistle, and shouted, "Stop him," and he was stopped a few yards off by a constable, who had been sent from the station—I took Denny to the station—he said, "I did not cut it; the other man cut it, and asked me to carry it. I have only known him three or four years."
Cross-examined by Denny. You dropped it on the ground, and started to run, but had not got above three yards before I caught you.
WILLIAM HOLLAND (359 K). On the evening of 5th February I heard a whistle, and at the same time I saw Borrett on the Sewer Embankment—I stopped him, and asked where he came from—he said, "From Stratford "—I did not see Denny till I got to the station.
HUGH BRADFORD (357 K). On the night of 5th February I went along the Sewer Embankment, and found this wire there between the posts on the Tilbury line, and apparently recently cut—there were pieces of wire hanging down from the insulators as if recently cut.
CHARLES USHER . I am a lineman connected with the Post Office, in the Stratford department—in consequence of information from the police, on the night of 5th February I went to the West Ham station, and there saw about 420 yards of wire which had been cut, belonging to the Postmaster-General—I found six spans between two pillars of twenty; yards; one lot was rolled up; the other lot the constable brought in—we have had six such cases in one week—this particular piece of wire had only been put up on the Wednesday previous.
GEORGE NELSON BAWDERY . I am a lineman in the employ of the Post Office department—on the evening of 5th February I went to West Ham station, and there saw some copper wire—I afterwards went along the embankment, and found that four telegraph wires had been cut.
Denny's defence. I had only come from Suffolk on the Monday. On.
the Thursday I went to Stratford looking for work. I did not see Borrett till the Sunday; he came to the lodging-house where. I was, and on the Monday he asked me to go for a walk with' him, which I did. He left me to go and see a friend, and when he came back he had this wire with him; he asked me to carry it. The policeman stopped me, and knocked me about, and knocked me against the wall, and said if it had been dark, and not so many people about, he would have thrown me into the canal.
Letters from the police in Suffolk and from the rector of the parish were produced giving the prisoner an excellent character, and stating that his parents were master and mistress of schools there, and were most respectable persons. DENNY— NOT GUILTY . BORRETT was further charged with having been previously convicted in 1892 at West Ham in the name of Joseph Forrest, to which he PLEADED GUILTY. The police stated that other depredations of a similar nature were traceable to the prisoner in connection with a man named Corbett.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
HOWARD PLEADED GUILTY to housebreaking, and also to a conviction in December 1893, in the name of Howard Henry.
MR. DRAKE, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against BURLEIGH and BAGNELL— NOT GUILTY .
A detective stated that Howard had been in the Army, and had worked, for his father, and gained his living honourably, but that bad companionship and drink had brought him to this.— Five Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
320. FREDERICK HOLLANDS (25) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to stealing a basket of tools and an oil can, of Frederick Worn ; also one sash fillister of Henry Eaton, having been convicted at this Court in December, 1889, as Alfred Bourne.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
321. VERNON GARLAND, FREDERICK STRIBBING (46), FREDERICK TRIM , JOHN ARNOT (35), and JOHN BENNETT , Unlawfully conspiring to obtain £70 from the Civil Service Bank with intent to defraud. Other Counts, for conspiring to obtain other sums. With the exception of TRIM, the other prisoners PLEADED GUILTY .
MESSRS. BODKIN, STEPHENSON, and HEWITT Prosecuted.
SAMUEL ELLIS . I am secretary and manager of the Civil Service Bank, Limited, Charing Cross Road—Mr. Abraham Southgate is chairman of the directors—the bunk subscribes to Perry's Inquiry Agency—it is part
of our business to make advances on promissory notes—it is the practice When we receive an application for a loan to send to Perry's for inquiry as to the trade position of, the applicant—they supply us with a book of inquiry forms, which we fill up and send to them—on. 1st May I received this proposal (marked T) for a plan of £30 for twelve months, repayable by monthly instalments, signed Frederick Trim, of Curfield Terrace, giving as surety R. J. Baldwin, builder, and decorator, Bromley, Kent—I know Trim's writing—this is his writing—I sent these two inquiry forms (G and H) to Perry's—on receipt of their report I wrote as to another surety, and got this reply (I), with reference to H. G. Hensman—I, being satisfied, sent this promissory note to Trim by post, and on 2nd June Trim brought it back duly executed—I handed him this cheque for £30, and he endorsed, it in my presence—he asked if we would allow him to open a current account with it, as he had business to do about the town, and it Would be a convenience to him, and we placed the £30 to his credit, upon which he operated from time to time—it was exhausted somewhere about the 20th of the same month—after that date two cheques drawn by him were presented, one of them for £67, signed Frederick Trim, payable to Mr. C. Bentinck—we had no funds beyond the £30; we gave him notice to close his account—none of the instalments on his promissory note were paid—we applied for them, and then put the matter in the hands of our solicitor—the total, amount he obtained was about £70, including the £30—only one instalment of 18s. 4d. was paid.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. After you gave Hensman's name as security, the report that came was satisfactory—I applied to you for the return of the money on 1st July, and I think you called or wrote stating that you would pay a few days later on, but you did not.
PERCY STUART . I am manager at Perry's Inquiry Agency, 26, Bush Lane, Cannon Street—I have been there about two years—the Civil Service Bank are subscribers—we supply them with inquiry forms—I know Garland signs "Charles Garland"—I know his writing—the notes "G," "H," and "J," were handed to him in the ordinary course of business—he has written at the back with his initials—he was responsible as inquiry officer to Perry's—I dismissed him on 15th June for misconduct.
Cross-examined by Trim. Garland's district for inquiry was S. E.—Wimbledon Is S. W.—Finsbury Pavement is not in his district, nor the Minories—there are other inquiry officers—these addresses are Argyle Street, Peckham, and Kerfield Crescent, Grove Lane, Camberwell.
GEORGE ROBERT PLUMSTEAD . I am a pensioner of the Royal Marines—from January, 1890, to August, 1892, I was employed by Mr. Hobman at South Bermondsey as collector on the Springville Estate, New Cross—the latter part of November, 1891, Trim called to take a house, 8 Shelderick Road, Springville—he gave the name of Ward—he came with a Mr. Smith, who lived on the estate, and whom I took as a reference—I accepted Trim as a tenant, at a rental of 11s. a week—he paid two weeks, not the third, but he paid the fourth—then I received no rent to 19th January, 1892—his rent was in arrear £2 4s.—on 19th January I handed a distress warrant to Mr. Kemp, bailiff—I received £10s. 6d. out of the £2 4s., the proceeds of distress, after paying expenses—alter the goods were sold in January, I found him one evening standing
in the office with a writ—I distrained on Smith shortly afterwards—Smith paid Kemp so much, and he let him clear out.
Cross-examined. You did not give me a card, and say you were employed by Ward.
By the COURT. I only knew him as Ward till I issued a writ, and then I found he had been trading in the name of Ward.
GEORGE ELLIS . I live at 161, Queen's Road, Peckham—I am employed by my father, Mr. Walter Ellis—he is landlord of the cottage, 7, Kerfield Crescent, Camberwell—I knew Trim as living there after November, 1892, as tenant—the rent was £37 a year, toe tenant paying taxes—the rent was payable monthly—I used to call to endeavour to get the rent—I had great difficulty in getting it—I was away in the North of England after that.
Cross-examined. I did not say at the Police-court I was present when you took the house, nor that you were a monthly tenant—you took the house about September, 1392.
WALTER JOHN ELLIS . I live at 114, Peckham Rye Lane—I am the owner of 7, Kerfield Crescent, Grove Lane, Camberwell—Trim was tenant from September 1st, 1892, at a yearly rent of £37, tenant paying rates and taxes—the tenancy was for one year certain, three months' notice, rent to be paid monthly—he paid the first month's rent the beginning of November, £2 5s.—afterwards he let it run on, paying my son odds and ends—on September 27th, 1893, I put in a distraint—he is, tenant now—we cannot get him out—he would nave owed £1 11s. 6d. the beginning of October—he paid £15 15s. altogether—his goods were valued at £2 17s. 6d.—I never got a penny from the distress—the lodger claimed his goods under the Lodgers' Goods Protection Act—I believe £1 3s. was given to the broker—I suppose the balance was for expenses—Trim commenced legal proceedings against me, claiming £50 and costs for illegal distress, and when the case was called on at the County Court the hearing fee was not paid—my solicitor, Mr. Washington, got some order for £4, I think, and I paid him £5 costs—I never got a penny of the £4—I did not know Soluman at 7, Kerfield Crescent.
Cross-examined. This is a copy of the agreement (produced), but it is not filled up—the final agreement provided for the payment of the rent monthly—I have only had seven months' rent, to May, 1893—I don't know what you owed—I gave you notice through my agents, who tried to get rid of you, so Mr. Washington told me—I put in an execution for four months when, in a few days, five months would have been due, in order to get rid of you—Bush and Devenish brought an action against meat the Southwark County Court—my solicitor did not tell me to "bunk; "he told me the case was done with, and I could go away—it was to be put down for another hearing, if you paid the costs in ten days.
HARRY DEXTER HENSMAN . I live at 57, Vestry Road, Camberwell—I did not write "H. D. Hensman" on this promissory note marked "K.," nor give any authority to write it—I know nothing about it—I made an affidavit on proceedings being brought against me—the signature is not similar to mine—I did not know H. Soluman, of, 7, Kerfield Crescent—I knew Trim.
Cross-examined. I have known you some, years—you occupied a good portion as manager of the Stourbank Brick and Tile Company—I do
not remember meeting you on Blackfriars Bridge, and your telling me you were about to apply for a. loan to the Civil Service Bank—that you had one surety, Mr. Baldwin, and wanted another—I did not then give you my name and address—you did not write it down in my presence—you did not show me a letter from Mr. Ellis, saying the reference was not satisfactory as to me—I did not say the letter referred to my cousin, who was in the Midland counties. (The prisoner called for a letter from Mr. Ellis to himself of 16th or 17th May, about Mr. Hensman, which was not produced)—you did not give me that letter—I have never seen it—I am of a Midland counties family, and have many cousins, but no cousin "H. D. Hensman"—I did not ask you whether I should have to go to the bank to sign the promissory note—I never applied to you to become surety—a few years ago you asked me to back a bill of exchange—when I received a letter from the bank I went to you, and asked for an explanation—you told me you understood it was my signature—I knew it was not—you did not ask me to come to 143, Cannon Street, to fill up the note which you had—I did not know of the note till I received the letter from the bank—I recommended Bush and Devenish, solicitors, to you—I had a cheque on that bank sent me, and I paid it—I never did business with you—I have recommended to you customers—I did not accuse Arnot of signing the note—possibly I asked him who did it—you told me you knew nothing about it, and I believed you, and believe so still—you did not suggest you signed it by my authority—I never saw you with Bennett and Stribbing.
Re-examined. Proceedings were commenced by the bank on the promissory note, which were discontinued on my promise to pay—I had no knowledge of Trim except from what he told me.
THOMAS CALLAN . I was housekeeper at 135, Finsbury Pavement—I often saw Trim there, once with Arnot—on the door was "H. B. Price and Co.," and "Stourbank Brick and Tile Company," and "Southwark Construction Company"—a half-year's rent was due, and in April, 1893, I put the bailiffs in.
Cross-examined. H. B. Price took the office—I saw you about six months after the office was taken in March, 1892—Mr. Neal used to come with you the early part of 1893—I think I saw you once or twice before that—I do not know when the Tile Company's business was sold.
RICHARD LINDLAY . I am clerk to Mr. Southgate, of 18, Ironmonger Lane, solicitor to the prosecution—Mr. Southgate, acting on behalf of the bank, endeavoured to recover money in Trim's case, among others—an application was made for payment of a loan to Trim by a letter addressed to 135, Finsbury Pavement, 13th July, 1892—another letter was sent to 7, Kerfield Crescent—the Finsbury Pavement letter was returned, endorsed "No address"—nothing was paid.
SILVESTER FOX . I live at Meadow Croft Lodge, Catford—in the early art of 1892 I took on a club in Bush Lane—Arnot was engaged as barman—I have seen Garland there twice—I know Trim; I have not seen him at the club—I have seen Garland, Arnot, and Stribbing with Trim twice or three times in Crooked Lane, at the Crooked Billet Public-house—Bentinck and Co. carried on a betting agency at 143, Cannon Street—I have not seen the prisoners there.
Cross-examined. I saw you in May, 1892—I have referred to the dates
after the Greenwich trial—when I first saw you you were having a row with Richardson about a shilling—you were to bring in customers—it was not at the time of the Duke of York's wedding, when I was not in London for a day or two—I used to come up two or three times a week—I did not say at the Police-court that I had never seen you—I was not too drunk in the box to know what I was talking about—you did not throw me out of the room—Long was with me once when I saw you—he was a witness, not a professional witness—I had never been in the witness-box before—I have enough to keep me—Stribbing did not accuse me of telling lies.
HARRY BAILEY PRICE . I am an architect, of Wingfield, in Norfolk—I have known Trim about a twelvemonth last Christmas—I had offices at 135, Finsbury Pavement, as the Southwark Construction Company and the Stourbank Brick and Tile Company—Trim was manager—at 143, Cannon Street, a Mr. Bird carried on business as Bentinck and Co.—I went there to see Trim—on the door was "Bentinck and Co.," "J. J. Arnot and Co.," and "F. Trim"—that was after Trim managed our business—I saw Garland, Stribbing, and Arnot there in company with Trim—I saw them also at the Crooked Billet together.
Cross-examined. You came to me the first week in January—I was in treaty for the sale of my business on 9th January—it was sold on 9th February—I arranged with Mr. Neal for you to use the office for a few weeks, till we could get one of our own—you continued manager till about the middle of June, or, at any rate, till I went away—you were engaged by Mr. Whitfield on a salary and commission; I do not know that there was any limit—there was an effort to get you guaranteed by the Guarantee Society for £1,000—your duties were to go to agents and make inquiries—I left Finsbury Pavement when I parted with the business in February, and, except that I called for letters, I had no subsequent connection with the office—I was not there after April—I never employed Arnot—I understood he was to make up the books subsequent to selling the business—I did not know him till then—I have met you at 143, Cannon Street, in April and May—I believe Arnot was employed as Bentinck's clerk.
CHARLES DUVAL . I am a wine merchant, of 30, Mark Lane—Bennett went into my employment about Christmas, 1892, as traveller—he got orders up to July, 1893, for champagne, which was supplied to various persons in the usual way—among others one from F. Trim on 20th April, 1893, of the Stourbank Brick and Tile Co., Royal Mint Street, and 7, Kerfield Crescent, Grove Lane, Camberwell—I asked Bennett what Trim's financial position was, what he was, and whether he was good for the amount, and he said he was the manager of the Brick and Tile Co., and there was not the slightest doubt he was in a perfectly good financial position—I believed that, and parted with two cases of champagne on that understanding, in answer to a letter of 10th May from F. Trim—the first order he gave was not executed because we were short of pints—I never was paid for the two cases supplied—at the end of three months, when the amount was due, Bennett had left my service—I applied for it by letter, but did not receive any answer; then I sent my head clerk, ho found the man had gone—Bennett got orders to the amount of £658,
and orders to the amount of £458 were executed—of that I was only paid £74 9s. 6d.
Cross-examined. I am not aware you never saw Bennett—I have seen Gregory, a traveller, at our place—I should be surprised to hear that he called to solicit your order.
BERTRAM PAXTON . I am a wine and spirit merchant, of 147, St. Vincent Street, Glasgow—in January, 1893, Bennett was appointed my sub-agent for London, and afterwards my sole agent—amongst a number of orders was this letter of 20th April, from F. Trim, for one case at 48s.—I sent it to 7, Kerfield Crescent, the address in the letter—I never was paid—after my business in London became unsatisfactory, I put the matter into the hands of Mr. Kelly, a chartered accountant.
THOMAS KELLY . I am a chartered accountant, of 150, Hope Street, Glasgow—Mr. Paxton put into my hands a number of accounts for collecting in June last—among other names were Garland, Stribling, Arnot, and Gregory, and Trim for £2 8s.—I applied for payment by circular of 7th June, and again on 9th August—I got no answer—I put the matter into Mr. Stubb's hands, and in consequence of Mr. Stubb's report I took no proceedings against Trim—the debt is still unpaid.
FREDERICK FOX (Detective P). I received warrants for the arrest of the prisoners—on 25th November I went to 7, Kerfield Crescent (having kept observation on the house three or four days) at midnight—when admitted I found Trim in the front parlour in bed—I was accompanied with three or four officers—I told Trim who I was, and that I had a warrant, which I read to him, and which charged him with conspiring with Garland and others to defraud the Civil Service Bank—he said, "All right; you will have to prove it"—I searched his place for an hour and a half, and took possession of a number of papers and books, and brought them away—while taking the prisoner in a cab he said, "Tell me all I have to answer"—I said, "First with conspiring with others, including Garland, who is in custody, in forging an order for the payment of £33, and uttering that forged document, thereby obtaining £33 from the Civil Service Bank, Limited, Charing Cross Road, in May last"—he said, "You can only prove I uttered the forged note. How do you bring Garland into it?"—I said, "He had to make inquiries about your position financially, and so on"—he said, "Well, he knows me very well; but is there anything else?"—I said, "Yes; obtaining champagne from Duval's, in Mark Lane, in May and June last, to the value of £10 17s."—he said, "If they prove that, it is only a debt. Is there anything else?"—I said, "Yes; I have reason to believe there are several other charges"—he said, "All right, pile it on; I daresay I shall pull through it some day"—on the 12th or 13th I arrested Bennett—Arnot was then in custody on another charge—I showed Arnot document "K", and said "Soluman" was the name another witness, Fox, had given evidence about, and it was his writing—he looked at it, and said it was his, and that would not be denied—that document also had on it "7, Kerfield Crescent," Trim's address, and there was no such person as Soluman living there; but the witness Fox said he saw him at that time.
Cross-examined. I did not say I was excited, and ask you to wait till we got to the station to explain the charge—you objected to my searching your place, and wanted me to take copies of the documents, and I told you
I would take them all, and I did—you did not send more papers upstairs and give me every assistance—I threatened to send you off while I was searching if you interfered—I might have been a little excited.
Trim, in his defence, alleged that he acted in good faith, borrowed money to meet his travelling expenses, and had no conspiracy with the others prisoners.
GUILTY .** He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1880, at, this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. GARLAND and BENNETT— Eight Days' Imprisonment each. STRIBBING and ARNOT— Three Months' Hard Labour each.
JEAN WEIR . I am a nurse at the Greenwich Infirmary—the year before last I was a nurse on the men's side—the prisoner was then an in-patient, and in my ward—I saw him write, and I know his writing—this letter and this envelope, which I received by post on 13th February, are in his writing. (The envelope was addressed, "Nurse Weir, Greenwich Infirmary, Greenwich." The letter was as follows:—"63, Watson Street, New Cross, S. E. Dear Nurse Weir,—Excuse my writing to you, but I owe it a duty to inform you that I have left the Infirmary this morning. You have had your innings, and now I think it is time I had mine. To put it straight, I think if you would like to see me do well you must, who took me off the straight path, put me on it again. You cannot do less than pay a third-class passage to Philadelphia, where I can start a fresh life; otherwise it behaves me to use every means in my power to stop you from doing well. You have ruined my life, so please to think over the matter. Yours truly, W. J. DOYLE. I am writing to your brother.")—I do not know at all to what that letter refers—when I got it I took it to Mr; Pook, a lawyer, and he applied for a summons—I attended the Court—the prisoner did not appear to the summons—I applied for a warrant, which was granted.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. Our relations in the infirmary were as nurse and patient—I was changed from the male to the female side by order of the committee in the ordinary course of duty.
The prisoner: I have nothing else to ask. The case is well known.
CHARLES WEBB . I am porter to the Greenwich Union Infirmary—at 7.30 on February 15th the prisoner came to the Infirmary gate and asked me if Nurse Weir was in or out—I said she was on duty—he said, "Will you convey this message for me"—I said, "I will"—he said, "Tell her she has caused my ruin, and I am an outcast on the streets of London, and if she does not find me money to go to Philadelphia she must put up with the consequences"—he went away smiling—he came again on Sunday, the 18th, between 2.30 and three—he was forbidden to enter the institution—he said he wanted to see a patient named Tullet—there was such a patient, a man—I told the prisoner he was not allowed in the institution; I had received directions to that effect from the medical officer—the prisoner said, "I only want to take some oranges to the patient Tullet"
—I said, "You know you are not allowed inside. You had best go away"—he went out of the gate and said nothing.
Cross-examined. You did say about the money.
JOSEPH WILL (472 R). I took the prisoner into custody on a warrant on February 22nd—I read it to him; he made no reply—I had previously served him personally on the 19th with a summons, to which he did not appear.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he went into the Infirmary about November, 1892, and was there about four or six weeks; that he became acquainted with the prosecutrix, and kept up the acquaintanceship after he came out; that she afterwards threw him over, and took up with others; that anyone could speak as to the character she bore in Greenwich; and that twelve months ago he had as good a character as anyone, and that now no one would look at him.
GUILTY .—MR. STEPHENSON stated that during one of the remands at the Police-court, inquiry was made as to the prisoner's mind, with the result that it was ascertained, as far as could be, that he was perfectly sane. INSPECTOR GUMMER stated that he had known the prisoner for about two years; that the first act that brought the prisoner to his notice was robbing his father on 28th March, 1893, for which he was convicted at Greenwich, and fined 20s., or fourteen days; that on 5th June, 1893, he was sentenced to fourteen days' hard labour for stealing from a shop; that on 4th July he was charged, with two others, with shop-breaking, and convicted of larceny, and sentenced to two months summarily at Greenwich; that on 19th September he had fourteen days at Woolwich for stealing from a shop, and that on 6th November he had three months, as a rogue and vagabond, at Lambeth; that he had been under his observation some considerable time before March, 1893, and he thought the prisoner had not done any work for a long time, but had preyed on his father, a very respectable old man, whom the prisoner robbed a long time before the first prosecution.
The prisoner stated that he and the prosecutrix were as thick as any man and woman could be in England; that he only wanted to get out of England and have a fresh start. Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PICKERSGILL Prosecuted.
KATE GUARD . I live at 21, Rope Yard Rails, Woolwich, and am an unfortunate woman—between one and 1.30 a.m., on 18th February, I was coming down from Woolwich Common when I met the prisoner and another man—the prisoner, in whose company I had been before, requested me to go with him—I refused, finding he was the worse for liquor—he took me by the shoulders, and dragged me on to the grass, and threw me down, and tried to have connection with me—I screamed—the other man was holding his hand over my mouth while I was trying to scream—the prisoner did not succeed—he felt for my pockets—he found the little side pocket in this jacket, and as he could not tear it out he cut it out with a knife—there was 8s. 6d. in a little purse in it—I saw the purse in his band—the men got up, and walked away—I followed them for about 100 yards—the prisoner turned, and said, "Kate, have you got your umbrella?"—I said, "Yes, but I have not got my money"—he struck me a hard blow on my mouth with his fist, and made my lips swell—I left them, turned
back and came down the common again, and I got to the corner of the front parade, when Gray came running after me and said, "Do you know what you have been doing?"—I said, "Do you know what you have been doing?"—he said, "You have been trying to rob a sergeant"—I said, "No; it is you have been robbing me"—I turned away quickly from him; he snatched my cape off my shoulders and walked up the common with it under his arm—I have not seen the cape since—I went along the front parade—I saw a constable there and told him what had occurred—I only knew the prisoner by the name of "Darkey"—I then went to William Street Police-station and made a complaint—in the morning I went and saw the regimental sergeant-major of the camp, at the barracks, and made a complaint to him—he told me to go to Shooters Hill Police-station—I went there and complained to the sergeant on duty—he told me to go to William Street, where I had been before—on the following day I went to the camp again, and the soldiers were paraded for the purpose of my identifying—I did not pick anyone out—the prisoner was not among the men paraded—afterwards I saw the prisoner brought out, and as soon as he turned the corner I identified him—he did not say anything—when the pocket was cut out of my jacket I struggled, and the knife came across my wrist and gave me a little cut, but nothing to speak of.
HENRY RUTHERFORD (Detective R). I was present when the parade was held at Woolwich Camp on Monday, 19th—there were between 400 and 500 men—the prisoner was not among them—the prosecutrix did not pick anyone out; she went up and down the line—I asked the officer if there were any other men about the barracks who were not on the parade, and he sent for all those who were on duty, cooking, etc., and the prisoner was brought round from one of the huts in charge of a corporal—the prosecutrix and I were standing together some fifty yards off, and she immediately identified the prisoner, and said, "That is the man that knocked me down and assaulted me"—I told him the charge; he said, "I was not there; I deny it."
HARRY BAKER (510 R). At 1.45 a.m. on February 18th, I was on the front parade—the prosecutrix came up to me; she was crying, and her clothes were very much torn—she complained to me—I told her to go to the station—she only said her assailants were soldiers—she had had some drink, but was not drunk—she knew what she was about, and had her wits about her.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I deny the charge, and call witnesses."
The prisoner called
THOMAS ABINET . I am a bombardier of the Royal Artillery—on Saturday night, 17th, I was the non-commissioned officer in charge of No: 3 hut at the camp, Woolwich, in which the prisoner sleeps—at the tattoo roll call at ten p m. he was reported present by me—I saw him undress and get into bed, just after ten—I again saw him in bed in the tent at 6.30 the next morning—I slept in the same hut—I went to sleep at once.
By the COURT. The common is on one side of the camp, and Shooters Hill Road on the other—there is nothing to prevent a soldier getting out of bed and going out over the common; he would run the risk of being punished if he was caught—about twenty men sleep in the hut; none of
the others are here—I did not notice the prisoner's clothes next morning—it is a regular occurrence for some of the soldiers to go out without leave after going to bed—men are constantly being caught and punished for it—it was fine when I went to bed at ten.
GUILTY .— One Year and Ten Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.
CHARLES DOMINEY (472 V). On Sunday afternoon, 11th February, about half-past five, I was in plain clothes in Rocks Lane, Barnes—I saw the three prisoners in a meadow belonging to the Barnes Elms Club, close to a wood stack—I watched them for a few minutes, and saw a flickering light—they came away and got over a fence into Rocks Lane, where I was standing—I saw that the stack was on fire—the prisoners ran a little distance and peeped through a hole in the fence—I apprehended Baker and Nicholson; Palmer was going to run away—I told him it was no good to run—a gentleman came up and assisted me—I asked Baker and Nicholson what they were doing in the meadow—Baker said, "We did not set the stack on fire; we only got on the top of the fence"—I took them to the station and sent for the fire brigade—no one but the prisoners was near the stack—Baker was in front running away—he came over the fence first—I could see all round—it was about 150 yards from the stack to Rocks Lane—I found no matches on the prisoners, nor any near the rick.
CHARLES JAMES BARRETT . I am secretary to the Ranelagh Club, Barnes—a day or two before the 11th February I saw the stack of wood safe in the meadow—it was the property of the Barnes Elms Ranelagh Club, and was worth about £20—the meadow is private property; the prisoners would have no right to be there—a good many people do get into it by the wall, but they would be trespassers.
LAURENCE HENRY ROBERTS . I live at Barnes Common—I was passing along Rocks Lane, between half-past five and a quarter to six on Saturday evening, and saw one boy climb over the paling, the others sat on the top; the first boy dropped into the lane—I do not identify the prisoners—I met a constable up the lane, and gave him some information—I had gone on ten or fifteen yards, when I saw a bright light coming from the club.
RICHARD PRESCOTT (Recalled). I took the charge against the prisoners—they denied committing the offence—afterwards on the Tuesday morning I went to Rocks Lane with a constable; went into the meadow, and saw the remains of the wood stack—I then returned to the fence, and
there found this box of matches inside the fence pointed out to me by Dominey—I saw the prisoners; they had no cigars, cigarettes, or tobacco upon them.
CHARLES DOMINEY (Recalled). I was present when Prescott picked up the match-box; it was in the field about ten or fifteen yards from the fence the prisoners got over—it was wet with dew; the inside was dry; it could not have been there long.
The parents of the prisoners gave each a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
He received an excellent character, and MR. HORACE AVORY, for the prosecution, stated circumstances of great mitigation in the case.
Discharged on recognizances to come up for judgment if called upon.
327. WILLIAM CHAPMAN (32) , Unlawfully attempting to have carnal knowledge of Agnes Alice Heinrich, a girl under 16. Other Counts, for indecent assaults on her, and on Ethel Ada Harding, Lottie Harding, and Emma Aldridge.
MR. LAWLESS Prosecuted
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Grantham.
MR. PASMORE Prosecuted.
FRANK JOSEPH . I live at 53, Regent Street, Kennington, and work at the Griffin Rubber Company, Trafalgar Road, Old Kent Road—the prisoner has also been working there—I have known her three years—I formerly lived with her—I paid her money; she always had what she wanted of me—on the 8th February I left work about a quarter to six; she left about the same time, and followed me—I went into a public-house with a friend; she followed me in—I had a glass of beer, and she had one; we each paid for one—she followed me to the Elephant and Castle—we were talking all the time—she said she was going to pay me out—in Kennington Park Road she put her hand in my coat pocket, to hold me, I suppose—I told her to take her hand out; she would not; I pushed her on one side, and she fell down—she got up, drew her knife out of her pocket of her sleeve, and struck me two or three times on my arm, and knocked my pipe out of my mouth—this (produced) is the knife, it is a shoemaker's knife; it cut through my coat—I put up my hand to ward off the blows, and a small artery was cut—one cut was on the hand, and one on the arm—a boy ran for a constable, and I gave her in charge for stabbing me.
Prisoner: I have cohabited with him three years, and he never gave me the value of a penny for me or my child, and because I would not give him money he would go on with another woman; he told me if I came on with him to the Elephant and Castle he would give me some money.
Witness: What she says is false—I have given her half-a-crown or 10s.
at a time—I knew she had a child—it had nothing to do with me—I have not slept with her for nine months.
JOSEPH JENKINSON ELLIS . I am a schoolboy, and live at 36, Albert Street—on the evening of 8th February I was in Kennington Park Road—I saw the prisoner draw this knife—I did not see where it came from—I saw her with it in her hand, flourishing it about, and I saw her stab the man three times—I called a constable.
FREDERICK LANGDON (90 L). Ellis called me, and I saw the prosecutor holding the prisoner—he handed me this knife, and said, "I charge this woman with assaulting me"—she said, "I said I would do it, and I have done it"—the prosecutor was all over blood—his hand was bleeding—the divisional surgeon dressed his wounds.
GEORGE NICOL HENRY . On 8th February I was called to the station, and saw the prosecutor—he was suffering from a wound above the right elbow; it was stopped by the bone, and was about an inch in length—the whole of the ball of the right thumb was cut completely through, and was hanging from the hand and bleeding profusely—it required six stitches—it was very serious, but not dangerous—the wounds were such as would be inflicted by this knife, and must have been given with considerable force—if they had gone near any vital part, he might have been killed.
The prisoner, in a written defence, alleged continual ill-usage by the prosecutor.
GUILTY Second Count—Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted, and MR. W. BURNIE Defended.
AGNES CHAPPLE . I am barmaid at the Clock House Public-house, Clapham Park Road, kept by Mr. Morris—on January 30th, about 6.40, I served the prisoner with twopennyworth of whisky—he paid in copper and left—he came again about 6.10 into the centre bar, asked for twopennyworth of whisky and gave me a sovereign—I gave him in change a half-sovereign and silver and bronze, and went to another part of the counter—he called me back and said, "I prefer all silver"—I said, "If I can spare it I will give it you"—he gave me a different half-sovereign to the one I had given him—it felt greasy and light—I had taken the one I gave him, from the till and bounced it on the counter—I went to serve another customer who was waiting, taking the half-sovereign with me, and called the governor from the billiard room—the prisoner said, "Never mind, give it me back, it is no trouble;" but he ran out of the bar when I called Mr. Morris down—he only tasted the second glass of whisky, and left the rest on the counter—he was alone on each occasion—I handed the coin to Mr. Morris, and made a statement to him—his brother came down with him—Mr. Morris and his brother went out, and about ten minutes afterwards a policeman brought the prisoner back—he then asked for twopennyworth of whisky, but I refused to give it to him—he was taken to the station—I went there, and he said
"Be careful what you say; you will find you are in the wrong"—I gave the coin to the landloard.
Cross-examined. When he said that, I had said that he was the man who passed the sovereign—I saw him go; I have not said that I did not, I said I called the governor, and the prisoner ran out—I am quite sure I used the words "ran out" before the Magistrate—I must have said in my deposition, "I noticed then that the prisoner was gone; I had not seen him go, "but I must have made a mistake, I remember better today—some half-sovereigns had been put in the till in the morning—three young women and two barmen serve in the bar—I have never taken bad money before—the prisoner may have been called out, but he did not run out till I whistled, not with a pipe, but with my mouth.
Re-examined. I did not hear anyone call him out, or see anyone with him—Mr. Charles Morris returned about twenty minutes after the prisoner went out.
CHARLES MORRIS . I keep the Clock House—on the evening of January 30th Miss Chapple called me into the bar—I went down with my brother Frederick, and Miss Chapple gave me a description and showed me this counterfeit half-sovereign (Produced)—I gave it to a constable—three or four minutes after we came down my brother left the bar—he returned in two or three minutes and made a statement to me, and I went out with him towards the North Road, and we saw the prisoner standing still at the corner, about two feet from a gateway—he turned round and walked towards my house—we followed him—he went down Hazel Road, which is opposite my house—it got very dark about half-way down—he went in at a gateway, and we lost sight of him for five or six minutes; but I saw him again, and called a policeman, and he was taken to my house and charged—he passed my house when he went down form the North Road, but he did not get so far coming back.
Cross-examined. He said nothing, to my recollection, when he was stopped, but he called for drink in the public-house.
FREDERICK MORRIS . I am the landlord's brother, and assist him in the Business—I was in the billiard room, and came down behind him—Miss. Chapple gave him a description, and I went out towards North Road, and saw the prisoner standing at the corner; I passed him, and turned round and passed him again, and then went and told my brother, and we both went out together, and saw the prisoner standing on the other side of North Road, near a gateway, about two feet from the nearest gate-post, looking down, thinking; he then went on past the Clock House.
Cross-examined. They are large house and gardens, and a good many gateways.
ALFRED BRAY (400 W). I live at 49, White Square, Clapham—on February 1st I was passing along the North Road, and in the gateway of 168, Acre Lane, about eighty yards from the Clock House, I picked up a cuff or mitten, tied at one end and doubled at the other, so as to make a bag—I found a piece of paper in it, containing eight little bits of tissue paper, and half a sovereign in each—I took them home, and afterwards handed them to Sergeant Cooper, and pointed out to him where I found them on the same day.
he found them on the day that he found them—that is 168, Clapham Road, which is not the same as Acre Lane, but it is in a line with it—the Clock House is on the right-hand side of it—it is not correct to say that the gateway is at 168, Acre Lane; Acre Lane does not commence till a few yards further up—I pointed out the spot to the two brothers Morris on February 2nd.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—this half-sovereign is counterfeit; it is metal gilt—these eight half-sovereigns are all counterfeit, and from two different moulds, one of which is the same mould as the coin uttered was made in.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY on the Second Count only.— One Month's Hard Labour.
330. CHARLES WELSH(35), † PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering twenty-three half-crowns; also to unlawfully having in his possession twenty-three counterfeit half-crowns with intent to utter them.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. And
331. EDWARD CORBETT** (17) , to robbery with violence, with other persons, one William Dukes, and stealing 2s. 3d., having been convicted at Southwark on November 6th 1893.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Ten Months' Hard Labour.
BENJAMIN COOKSEY and CHARLES GILES PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
THOMAS RUSHEN I keep the Prince of Wales Public-house in Battersea Park Road—early in July, 1892, being in want of a barman, I advertised, and in consequence of this Ballard called upon me—he referred to Mr. Cooksey as to his character, and I went and saw Cooksey—he was landlord of the Collingwood Arms, Battersea—I asked him if he could recommend Ballard—he gave him an excellent character, he could trust him with untold gold, he said—he said, "He has been with me eighteen months, and is a first-class barman. I could leave my house in his charge"—Ballard was there at the time, working in the bar—he told me that he had been locked up for theft previously—he did not say when, or what for, but he was going to be decent for the future—I did not ask him anything about it—I said I was going to Folkestone, and would have to leave the house in charge of Ballard—he said, "You can trust him, and I will look into the house myself"—I believed his statement, and engaged Ballard—I afterwards went to Folkestone with my wife, leaving the house in Ballard's charge—before going there I received a telegram from Cooksey on Friday before the Bank holiday, and on the Saturday I went and saw Cooksey at the Collingwood Arms—he said he had had a man watching Ballard ever since he had been at my place, and that the man thought he saw him put a sixpence in his waistcoat pocket, but was not quite certain—I thanked him for the interest he took, and left, and communicated
with the police—next day, Sunday, Ballard asked to speak to me privately—he said he was very much upset; he had been to see Cooksey, and had conversation with him, and Cooksey had offered to bet a bottle of champagne that he would not be with me many days—I told Ballard to take no notice of what Cooksey said, but to go on as usual—on the Thursday I discharged him; I told him I was not satisfied with his conduct, and he left—when I came back from Folkestone I found that everything had gone wrong; the beer and spirits were diluted to a great extent, and I made up my mind to discharge him at once—until I received the telegram from Cooksey I did not intend to communicate with the police, but I was watching him all the time.
Cross-examined by Ballard. I was two days at Folkestone—you were in charge; my brother-in-law was there, but he did not understand anything about the business—you told me you were going back to Mr. Cooksey.
FRANK CHARLES DAVIES . I live at 24, Brook Road, Stoke Newington—in April, 1893, I kept the Foresters' Arms, South Road, Kensal New Town—just before that Cross was in my service as barman for about two months—I advertised for a new barman, and on or about 3rd April Ballard called on me, bringing with him this letter from Cooksey. (This recommended Ballard as a good barman, sober, well used to a rough trade, and just the man for it)—Cross gave me notice and left; before he left I took stock and found it was about £40 short—I could not account of that deficiency in any way—Ballard said he had been employed by Cooksey two or three months—I engaged him before I saw Cooksey, on the strength of this letter, and Ballard's representations—Ballard did not tell me he had previously been at Mr. Rushen's—two or three days after I engaged Ballard I went and saw Cooksey, and asked him about Ballard's character, especially if he was honest—he said "Yes"—he entered my service on 3rd April; on 10th May I discharged him—I told him that I saw him on the Sunday before put a coin in his pocket, either a half-crown or a sixpence, I could not be sure which—he denied it—I told him I would not give him a character—I took stock immediately after I discharged him and found £27 short—the stock was taken every twenty-eight days—I had another barman, who stopped with me for ten months afterwards—I was perfectly satisfied with him.
Cross-examined by Cross. I make out the loss of £40 by casting up the retail prices, taking a certain amount for waste, allowing for deductions for our own drink at meals, and for servants—my friends always paid for what they had—my cook did not rob me from the beer in the stock—she was in my employ while you were there—I believe a half-quartern of brandy was found among her things—I did not find her out till some time after you left.
Cross-examined by Ballard. I told you you might give the potman six half-pints a day, not a dozen drinks a day; if you did so it was not with my sanction—I did not toss with my customers and give them three pots instead of their paying for it—when I thought I saw you putting a coin in your pocket I did not say anything to you, I wanted to catch you—when I told you to go, you asked me to come up to your bedroom and search your box—I declined—you were too artful—I marked some sixpences and put in the till, and after the till was cleared
the third time I found two marked shillings there—you said you should demand a character of me—I told you I should not give you one—there are a lot of laundresses in the neighbourhood, and we were in the habit of sending out fifty or sixty half-pints in the morning—I told you to give them fair measure and a little over—I did not give away a barrel of ale in a week in that way—what we had ourselves and what you and the potman had would not amount to 10s. a day—a barman is allowed to take what he likes, in reason—I did not find my takings satisfactory.
Re-examined. He did not know the day on which stock was taken—he left after the stock was taken—the cook remained about a month after he left—she had been with me ever since I opened the house, which was the first week in February.
By Bollard. I marked two shillings and a sixpence; the two shillings were found, but not the sixpence—the till was carefully searched twice, at an interval of ten minutes or half an hour—he would have no access to the till in the meantime—he would have the opportunity of putting the two shillings back.
ARTHUR HENDON COLE . I keep the Dun Tavern, Croydon—on 26th May, 1893, I advertised for a barman—I received a telegram and sent one in reply—about an hour after sending it, Ballard called on me with another person, who said he was Mr. Cooksey's manager—Ballard said he had been with Mr. Cooksey at the Collingwood twelve months, and was leaving that day, as Mr. Cooksey was selling the house, and would not require him—I called on Cooksey that same day, and he gave Ballard an excellent character for sobriety and honesty, and in every way; that he had been with him twelve months, and was leaving that morning; that he was at that time engaged in the cellar, and he called him up from the cellar to speak to me—on the strength of that character I engaged Ballard, and he stopped with me from May 27th to June 8th—I was not satisfied with him—I discharged him at the end of the first month—I told him he would not suit me, that he was utterly incompetent to take the leading hand in my business, and gave him a week's notice—I did not charge him with dishonesty, because I could not prove it; at the same time I suspected—every time the till was made up he would come and say it was half-a-crown short—that would be in the change given out to him in the morning—neither he nor Cooksey told me that he had been employed at Rushen's or Davies's.
Cross-examined by Ballard. You left three days before your time was up—I turned you out early one morning in consequence of drunkenness the night before—you insulted the barmaid and made a most vile charge against her.
JOHN MURPHY (180 V). I have known Ballard since August 25th, 1890—on that day I was present at Worship Street Police-court, when he was charged with larceny as a servant, by a publican—in August, 1892, I saw him at the Collingwood—I had seen him a few days previously behind the bar at the Prince of Wales, Battersea Park Road, Mr. Rushen's—when I was outside the Collingwood he said, "I thought when I saw you the other morning at the Prince of Wales's that you were Detective Murphy, from Hackney"—I said, "I am the man"—he said, "My governor gave me a character for the situation at the Prince of Wales," and that he told the landlord, meaning the publican, all about him, put-
ting before him his character, and that he had been convicted, "And he said he knew everything about me"—in July, 1893, I was on duty in Hayden's Lane, Wimbledon, when Ballard was passing me—he said, "Have you seen the paper?"—I said, "Why?"—he said, "There's a d—row at my governor's place"—I said, "Who is your governor?"—he said, "Mr. Cooksey, of the Collingwood public-house, Battersea; his barman has been receiving Three Star whisky from the barman of the opposite public-house"—I think they call the opposite public-house the Plough; it is in the Plough Road—he said, "Both of them have been pinched"—"pinched" means arrested, and I took it to mean they were taken into custody—he said, "My governor is afraid of being dragged into it, as he has given the barman of the opposite public-house a character"—I said, "How are you going on now?"—he said, "I cannot get a brief "—a "brief" means a character—"until this is blown over"—I saw him two days afterwards.
Cross-examined by Ballard. I did not know you were working at Cooksey's—I did not have a drink in the private bar two days previous—when I met you in Hayden's Lane I did not ask you if you knew a Jew who kept a wardrobe house somewhere handy—I did not ask you if you saw anything going on that was not correct, to let me know, and to put anything in my way—I had left Battersea, and did not want to know anything about it.
GEORGE GRAY . I keep the Giraffe Public-house, Penton Place, Kennington Park Road—early in August, 1893, I advertised for a barman—Ballard called, and told me he had been employed at the Collingwood Arms about eight months, and had left there about a week—I called at the Collingwood the same day, and saw Benjamin Cooksey about Ballard's character—Cooksey said Ballard was sober, honest, and industrious, and the most thoroughly honest man he had ever had in his bar—he said Ballard had been in trouble for an assault on a child some years back, but it was such a long time ago, he thought everything was all right now, and he would go on all right—he said, "I have given him a character before. He left because he was ordered to wash a trap, and he declined"—on that character I engaged Ballard as a barman to begin on 10th August, a Thursday—I kept my eye on him—I gave him into custody, on the Tuesday, 15th, on a charge of stealing sixpence—he was taken before the Magistrate and committed to the South London Sessions—he was brought up before Mr. Soames, and I was present when he was convicted and sentenced tonine months' imprisonment.
Cross-examined by Ballard. I told you in the bar parlour the charge was stealing sixpence.
JOHN MURPHY (Re-examined). Ballard was dealt with summarily at Worship Street, and sentenced tothree months' hard labour—the charge was stealing money and cigars and beer—another man was concerned with him—it was in my presence on a Sunday night.
JAMES BOTT . I keep the Spread Eagle, Grosvenor Road, Pimlico—on 6th or 7th June, 1893, I advertised for a barman in the Morning Advertiser—Cross called on me and told me he was employed at the Collingwood Arms—the same day I saw Cooksey as to Cross's character—Cooksey said he was thoroughly honest and industrious and a very good man for a rough trade—on that character I engaged Cross—on 24th June
I discharged him—I called him out of the bar into the passage, paid him a week's money in lieu of a week's notice, and told him to get out of the house as soon as he could, as I believed he had been robbing me ever since he had been in it—during the two or three weeks Cross was with me the change till was very seldom right—invariably the money was short—that shortness commenced when he came and ceased when he left—Cross did not reply when I told him—he was out of the house within five minutes, taking his box and portmanteau with him—I went to Cooksey and told him Cross had been robbing me, and warned him not to give Cross a character again—Cooksey said he should not think of doing so.
Cross-examined by Cross. You were at work in the bar when I applied to Cooksey for your character—you detected the barmaid giving too much change across the counter—my wife, daughter, or myself made the till up—no one else had anything to do with it—you used to be always finding out mistakes when you were in the bar—some months after you left I charged my potman with stealing money behind the bar—he was there while you were there; he was there two years—I did not on the second Saturday say I was very pleased with you, and if things went on right I would give you a 2s. rise—I found your box open, and looked into it; I there saw a Post Office Savings Bank book, which proved to me that you were banking a very great deal more money than I was giving you—that was the second or third day after you were in my service, and before you had received anything from me—I was no aware you had private means—Cooksey did not tell me when he gave me your character that you had a small income—I do not remember the amount in your bank book—whatever amount I told Cooksey, would be in your book—this is the book I saw—these are the amounts (On June 13th, 18s.; on June 20th, 30s)—you received 14s. a week—the total you received would be £2 2s.—between your coming and the 20th you received 7s. for part of a week and 14s.—I told you the stock was £17 to £20 short, I would not bind myself to the exact amount—Cooksey said if he found your bank book was as I stated, he should not think of giving you a character; and if it was wrong he would communicate with me, and I never received any communication from Cooksey—I never said anything to Cooksey about £17—I am not aware that he took you back into his service.
Re-examined. I took stock after Cross left, and found it was just upon £20 short, not accounted for—I did not mention to Cooksey the amount I was short in stock.
By Cross. Everything consumed domestically or privately was arranged for in the stock-taking—I am not aware that my daughter gave the potman drinks beyond his allowance—if any of the servants were queer, no doubt something would be given to relieve them—my daughter has undergone an operation of tracheotomy, and by the doctor's advice she has two glasses of port wine; one when she takes charge of the bar with the barman, and another when she goes to bed, and a glass of stout with her dinner and her supper—there was £17 to £20 of stock unaccounted for.
Running Horse, Blackfriars Road—a young man, not one of the prisoners, came and made a statement, in consequence of which I went to the Collingwood Arms—I saw Mr. Cooksey—I told him I had come in reference to a barman's character—I forget the name—Cooksey said, "He is no good; he is indolent; but I know a young fellow, who left me last Saturday, whom I can strongly recommend, Frederick Cross"—he said Cross had been in his service five or six years, on and off, and he was strictly honest and thoroughly trustworthy, and Cross was to drive over with the manager to see me in the evening—the same evening Cross called upon me at the Running Horse—in consequence of the character I received, I took him immediately into my service—he remained with me three or four months—during that time the change in the till was always, short.—he came in two or three days after I had the house—I took stock every twenty-eight days—it was taken three times while Cross was with me, first three weeks after he came—the first stock-taking was bad, the second worst, the third most disastrous—in consequence of those serious, deficiencies I lost my situation—I was responsible for everything.
Cross-examined by Cross. You did not point out to me that my wife had improperly made up the till—I remember your detecting a mistake once in settling the till—I did not complain to you of dishonesty, I told you of the stock coming out badly the first time—some empty bottles were not accounted for—they were fifteen bottles of brandy left by the previous manager—you detected some bottles in the window full of water instead of gin—that was allowed for in the second stock-taking—I only promised you a week's engagement at first—you gave me notice, and I asked you to stay on—I told you I had to discharge you, but did not say I was sorry to part with you, and if I had my way I would not give you notice—I said if I had not been told to discharge you I should do so after what I saw of your betting—you cannot possibly bet and be strictly honest on 14s. a week—my firm found you another job for a week, because Mr. Pyke, the owner, thought I was blind and could not see what you did, and the result was you were discharged at the end of the week—I think you left ray place quite three weeks before you went to Dalston—you commenced your service in August, 1893—it may have been Wednesday, August 30th—I think you left later than October 22nd or 23rd—I left the Running Horse the beginning of January—I was discharged because the stock-taking was disastrous, but I was kept on over Christmas—I was considered negligent to allow such a condition of things—I was not discharged for drunkenness and dirtiness—my wife did not give drink away on a Sunday evening—to say she was laid up for heavy drinking is an abominable lie—she was laid up—she did not have fits through drink—we consumed very little drink, it scarcely needed accounting for—I was out in the evening—I came home drunk twice—I have kept the potman up to clean the cellar out—I did not sit and drink while he did it—I did not drink sundry bottles of port wine during that time—after you left you sent a publican from King's Cross for your character—I told him what I thought, that you were not fitted for the berth—he did not say he was satisfied,. and engage you at sixteen shillings a week in my presence—it might have been in my house—I was not aware of it.
advertised for a barman—Heywood called in answer to the advertisement—he told me he had been nine months at the Collingwood Anus, Mr. Cooksey's, that I could see the manager as to his reference—I saw a man in the private room behind the, bar, who told me his name was Watson—I had a conversation with Watson, and took the prisoner into my service—Hey wood stayed with me between four and five weeks—I had my stock taken the second week he was there—there was a deficiency—I could not attribute that to Hey wood because he had only been there a fortnight—I took stock a second time—there was a deficiency also—I discharged Heywood on a Sunday evening for being the worse for drink—I had another barman then who came the previous July, 1892—he was with me several months, and went away ill—he was never discharged—I had no reason to suspect him.
Cross-examined by Heywood. I understood you to say at the Police-court the second stock-taking was all right, so assumed there was a second—some shortness may be accounted for by too much measure.
ROBERT GARROWAY STOCK HAM . I keep the Red Lion, St. Anne's Road, Notting Hill—on December 13th, 1892, I saw an advertisement in the paper for a barman, and answered it—Heywood called—he said he had been employed by Mr. Cooksey, of the Collingwood Arms, Plough Road, Battersea, about seven months, but had left it a fortnight—I went to the Collingwood Arms and saw Cooksey—I said, "I have come after Hey wood's character; how long has he been with you?"—he said eight or nine months—I asked how long he had left, and he said about a fortnight—he did not tell me he had been at Mr. Wybrow's four or five weeks; nor did the other man, Heywood, when he came—he led me to believe Cooksey, of the Collingwood, was his last employer—he said, "There is something wrong; we have found out that it was the manager, and I gave Heywood notice to leave, and won't ask him to stop on, because I have given him notice "—there was a row between him and the manager, and he had left a fortnight before for that reason—I asked as to his honesty, and he said he was strictly honest and trustworthy—as an illustration, he said he had lost a diamond ring in the cellar, worth about £40.; Heywood found it, and gave it up, and he gave him a sovereign for finding it; and said "I would trust him with anything"—I was satisfied with that character, and took him into my service on 14th December, 1892—on Friday, 16th December, I was carving our own dinners in the bar parlour—Heywood would be then alone in the bar—I noticed him looking into the bar parlour, and he went back to the bar—I got up, and watched him through a hole, where he could not see me—I saw Cross in the private bar; we have five compartments—I saw Heywood pass to Cross half a pint of gin in a bottle, and a handful of coppers—I had not seen Cross give Heywood any money—I went round to the public side of the bar, and said to Cross, "You thief! What have you got belonging to me?"—he said, "Nothing"—I pushed Cross down, and took the gin out of his pocket—I kept the gin—he had the money in his pocket—I asked Heywood, in the presence of Cross, what he meant by giving my goods away—Heywood said he had taken the money for it—I asked him how much he had taken—he said "Tenpence"—I said, "It comes to a shilling," and I asked him how he was paid—he said, "By coppers"—I said, "That could not have been;
there is only 1s. 2d. in the two tills," about 7d. in each bowl—there are two bowls—I had looked at those bowls about five minutes before that, and saw about 12s. or 14s. of coppers in them—you can easily take up 5s. of coppers in one hand—I can see by the till whether silver passes through it—there was no silver in the other till, so the absence of coppers could not be accounted for—I told Heywood to clear out—Cross threatened to bring a policeman—no policeman appeared—I went to Mr. Wybrow, who said something to me—the day after I went to Cooksey's and told Cooksey I had been to Mr. Wybrow's in the "New Cut," and that Mr. Wybrow had told me he had had nine months' character from Cooksey—Cooksey said, "That is not the man I gave the character to"—I said I had found Frederick Heywood giving my goods away over the bar the day before—Cooksey said, "I don't believe it; I'll bet you £10 that the Frederic Heywood that has been with you is not the same man to whom I have given a character to Mr. Wybrow"—looking at the them I have no doubt Heywood and Cross are the two men.
Cross-examined by Heywood. I sent you a telegram in answer to your advertisement—you had called, and waited, and left when I sent after you—you did not write Mr. Wybrow's address on paper, or I should not have gone to Cooksey for a reference—I did not say, "This is a short time: where is your previous reference?"—you did not say you had been at Mr. Wybrow's a month, but that you got boosey and he discharged you—I do not remember it—I said I would go to Cooksey, and you would hear the night or the first post in the morning—I took your reference from Cooksey—it was the third day you were visited—the coppers may have been shifted in two or three times—you asked cross for another 2d. for the bottle—cross did not demand the gin back—he went out, saying he would fetch a policeman, and was away about ten minutes, when he came back and demanded his gin—there is a policeman at a fixed station out side, and a Police-station a quarter of a mile off—I counted the coppers in the bowls—there was not 2s. 6 1/2 d. in coppers in the two bowls, but about eightpence in one and sixpence in the other—you brought your things down, knocked at the bar parlour door, and asked for your wages and, and I refused you—I did not say, "Before you go out of my house I want to search your things"—I searched your things—I did not turn out your pockets and everything—you volunteered to show them—I only looked for the coat, as I said the other man had your coat, but you had your coat in your box—the overcoats were a like—the gin was found in the man's overcoat pocket—Heywood had come for the situation in a similar overcoat, and I said, "He has got your coat"—but he had not, because Heywood had it in his portmanteau—I believe Cross is the man you served with the gin.
Cross-examined by cross. I recognize you as the man who had the gin by your face—you warned me at the Police-court I was wrong—I swear to you positively.
WILLIAM LEONARD (Detective L). On 6th January, 1892, I was present at Lambeth Police-court, when Ballard was convicted of stealing money from his employer, the landlord of the Old Crown and Cushion, in the Westminster Bridge Road—he was sentenced to three month's imprisonnment with hard labour for larceny as a servant in a public-house.
in the precincts of the South-Western Police-court, Lavender Hill—I took him into one of the rooms and read the warrant over to him—it charged him with conspiring with others to obtain situations by false characters—he said, "This is all right; I know nothing about it "—I charged Ballard, who was then in custody, on a similar warrant—he made no reply.
WALTER HOPKINS (B). I arrested Heywood at the Black Prince, Homerton Road, Homerton, on 13th February—the warrant charged him with conspiring with Cooksey to obtain a situation by means of a false character—he said, "I don't see what they want me on the job for; I know nothing about it"—he was taken to the South-Western Police-court and charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined by Heywood. You and your father were behind the bar at the Black Prince—you were washing the front.
Witnesses for Cross.
WILLIAM HEYWOOD . I am the prisoner Heywood's father—I live at 65, Meyrick Road, Clapham Junction—I am a beer-house retailer out of business—I have no license—when my son was working at Notting Hill for Mr. Stock ham I heard he was discharged for giving gin to another person across the counter—I know of my own knowledge it was not Cross who received the gin; it was my son Albert—he wore a similar overcoat—both coats were made at the same time for the two brothers.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I last held the Royal Standard, High Street, Wandsworth—Heywood was at the Welsh Harp when arrested—Mr. Wells put me into the Standard—Cooksey and Wells put me there—I don't know whether Heywood told me why he was dismissed, and about his wages—he said he was accused of stealing a half-pint of gin—that was some time after he left—I understood the gin was passed over the bar and paid for by my son—I did not go and say that there was a mistake—I did not tell them anything—I have known Cross about two years—I knew him when he was employed with Francis Charles Davis at the Spread Eagle in the Grosvenor Road—I cannot say I knew him at the Forester's Arms—I knew he was there—Heywood was there at the same time—I have known Ballard about as long as Cross—I have seen Ballard and my sons at the Collingwood; I daresay at the same time—my son Fred was seven to eight months behind the bar there—Albert is not here—I saw him a fortnight or three weeks since—a fortnight ago last Saturday night—Cross resembles him a bit—you could not mistake one for the other—Albert did not mention that he had been charged with stealing the gin—he told me the gin had been passed over the bar, and Mr. Stockham came out, said it had not been paid for, and took it away—I did not complain to the landlord, because I had other duties.
WILLIAM HEYWOOD . I remember when my brother Frederick was working for Mr. Stockham—I was told Albert went to see him, and that he received a half-pint of gin, which he paid 1s. for over the counter, and there was a bother about it—I am confident it was Albert, according to his own words, and that Cross is not the man who had the gin.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I have known Cross about twelve months about Battersea, and as barman at the Collingwood—I know Cooksey, but not Ballard—Albert told me he bought the gin quite honestly—I don't know what became of the gin; they would not tell me
everything—I cannot think of the words said, it is so long ago; December, 1892—I did not complain; it had nothing to do with me—I first heard of Cross taking the gin at the Court, Wandsworth—I did not give evidence, because I did not want to put my nose into Cross's affairs.
In his defence, Cross said that he acted honestly, and had given notice twice, and therefore his conduct was satisfactory,
Heywood said the shortness in cash and stock was caused by mistakes and stock used in the house which was unaccounted for, and by over measure. He got a character from Watson, who had been his manager, and he had acted honestly.
Ballard said that he had worked for Cooksey on and off nearly eighteen months, and had tried to retrieve his character. He had had no barmen visit him, and his landlord, Rushin, knew of his previous trouble. He was charged with stealing sixpence, and punished, but had noticing to do with any conspiracy. The falling off in stock was due to the drinking habits of the landlords family, and barmaids and potmen, who had ten to fifteen drinks a day.
No evidence was offered against EMILY COOKSEY— NOT GUILTY .
CROSS and HEYWOOD— GUILTY on all Counts except the fifteenth (conspiring to defraud Robert Garroway Stockham). BALLARD— GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment
HEYWOOD— Six Months' Imprisonment
CROSS— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
GILES, who PLEADED GUILTY— Six Months' Imprisonment.
333. BENJAMIN COOKSEY was again indicted for feloniously receiving four bottles of brandy, and a large quantity of cigars, knowing the same to have been stolen; also with being accessory before the fact, by inciting Sidney Knight to commit a felony, by stealing two bottles of brandy, a half-pint of whisky, and a quantity of cigars, the property of John Stephen, his master.
No evidence was offered— NOT GUILTY .
On the indictment to which he PLEADED GUILTY, Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. C. MATTHEWS, C. F. GILL and A. GILL Prosecuted;
MR. CARSON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, APRIL 2ND, 1894.