CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SEVENTH SESSION, HELD APRIL 30TH, 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
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
Vol. CXX 1893-94
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, April 30th, 1894, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. GEORGE ROBERT TYLER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir DAVID EVANS , K. C. M. G., and Sir STUART KNILL , Bart, Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Col. Sir WALTER WILKIN , Knt., GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES, JOHN POUND , 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. SEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, April 10th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and SIR E. CLARKE, Q. C., and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
JOHN READ ACKERMAN . I am a commission agent, of 72, Mark Lane—I had business relations with the prisoner before May, 1893—I received these letters from him of 8th and 12th of May. (The first asked Ackerman if he could match the enclosed sample of Indian red exactly, and requested him to send a counter sample and the lowest price per ton; the second letter asked Ackerman to let Zumbeck know whether he could offer the red as per sample, as the matter was being kept open for his reply)—after that I procured a sample of red, which I sent on 16th May, with this-letter. (Stating that he could do the enclosed sample to match the sample sent him at £13 10s. per ton, less 2 1/2; per cent., cash on delivery)—I received this letter from the prisoner on May 17th, 1893. (This acknowledged receipt of the letter and sample, asked for 28 lbs. to be sent to try, and stated that it was of the utmost importance that the colour should be exactly like Zutmbeck's sample, both dry and in oil; that it was to be exact and finer, and if satisfactory, he would take a ton. A postscript added, "Please be careful both with regard to shade and fineness. We send you a large sample herewith.") (SIR EDWARD CLARKE called attention tothe fact that in the original letter the words, "It is of the utmost importance that the colour is like our sample," and" Take care that it is exact," were underlined)—I received these two letters of 9th June. (The first stated that the sample sent by Ackerman did not answer Zumbeck's buyer's purpose; the second enclosed a further sample of what was required, and requested a further twenty-eight pounds to try and match the sample as to shade, strength softness, and covering power, and added that it must be exact, to get the order)—on 17th June I received this letter. (The enclosed a sample, and stated that if he could match it exactly in every respect lie could have
the order for a ton)—after that I procured a sample, which I think I took myself to the prisoner as the nearest I could do to match his sample; that would be two or three days after the last letter, about the 19th or 20th—perhaps two days afterwards I called at the prisoner's office—it was before the 20th, but about that date—I can say the date when I see the letter; it was in the morning, before half-past eleven—I saw the prisoner in his inner office—I asked him if my sample suited—he had samples rubbed out in oil, on glass—he said, "This is what I want to match; which do you think is the nearer?"—I said, "I don't know"—I looked at the samples, pointed to one, and said, "I think that is"—he said, "So do I; send me 24 cwt."—20 cwt. of this material goes to a ton—the sample I picked out was ours—he said, "This is yours"; there were other samples from other people—I said, "Have you tested this for strength? because I have not; the colour seems right; I have not the means of testing that in my office; you have; here, shall we do it?" Pointing to his test scales—he said, "No; send me 24 cwt."—I then left—in consequence of that conversation I ordered the stuff from our principals that same morning before lunch time—lunch time is from half-past twelve to half-past one—I have no recollection what time I left my business premises that day—I came next morning about my usual time, I suppose about half-past nine; I saw my clerk or office boy, who gave me this letter from the prisoner: "Referring to the ton of red ordered this morning, please mark the cask ✗ without any other mark or label appearing The red must be an exact match to our sample in every respect, or it will be rejected"—I think it was in an envelope, which was destroyed—the envelope had no postmark on it—I may have stayed at my office the previous afternoon till my usual time for leaving, from half-past four to half-past five—I see now, by the date of this letter, that my interview with the prisoner would have been on the 20th—I read the letter, and made a remark about it to the boy—I don't think I know the prisoner's writing—I did not answer that letter either verbally or by writing—the order I gave to my principals on the 20th was verbal, and I confirmed it afterwards in writing—I am not sure whether this letter was posted or not; it was sent on the 21st, I believe; it was after I had seen this letter of 20th. (This ordered 20 to 25 cwt. of red as per sample in confirmation of the conversation of yesterday.)—I afterwards learned that the goods had been sent—I sent in this invoice to the prisoner, with a delivery order; it shows £16 0s. 7 1/2 d., less discount—on 6th July I received this letter from the prisoner. (Stating that he had heard from his customers that the 24 cwt. of red delivered was not the same as the last sample, and they were unable to use it, and desired the right quality to be delivered immediately.)—I also received these letters of July 13th and 20th. (The letter of the 13th stated that Zumbeck's customers objected not only to the colour, but to the quality; that of the 20th stated that his customers could not use it, as it was not at all like the sample, and that Zumbeck would have to buy it elsewhere and debit Ackerman with any difference in price, unless he could supply the proper quality; that as the customers were in immediate want of it, Zumbeck had ordered a cask, for which he had to pay £20 a ton)—I wrote on 5th September, asking for a cheque, and I received this letter of the same date from the prisoner. (Expressing surprise at Ackerman's letter, as the six casks were rejected because of not being of the proper
quality; stating that Zumbeck had had to buy a ton against Ackerman, and had sent a debit note, and as soon as that was paid Ackerman would receive back the six casks, which meantime were held as security.)—I replied on 5th September. (This letter stated that before Zumbeck gave like order he had examined Ackerman's sample and said he considered it better than his (Zumbeck's), and that he ordered from it; that as the customer had rejected the casks he (Ackerman) was willing to take back the casks without prejudice, and that he gave no contract to match exact.)—I received this of September 5th from the prisoner. (Returning debit note for difference in price, and stating that Zumbeck's order was very explicit as to an exact match, and that he had never approved of Ackerman's sample, but said he could not judge and only gave the order on the understanding that the quality should he equal to Zumbeck's sample. A letter of 6th September was also read, returning the debit statement, and asserting that Zumbeck examined Ackerman's sample, on which he sold.)—during the progress of that correspondence I had several interviews with the prisoner; the first was when I knew that his customers had rejected it—he then asked me if I would try still to match the original sample—I told him that what I had sent was the nearest I Could do—I am not certain whether at that interview he said he would try his people again—I saw him again afterwards, and he said his people did not approve of it, and I said, "Very well, I will take the stuff back, Mr. Zumbeck; we will not have any bother about it; I will take it back"—he said, "Oh, no, you won't; that stuff I want to match costs £20 per ton" (This was before that letter of September 5th)" You pay me the difference between your price, £13 10s. per ton, and £20, which is £6 10s., then you shall have your stuff back"—I replied, "Never, I will not pay 1d."—I think I walked out then—I do not think I had any interviews with him after that—I don't remember this document of 20th June being mentioned at any interview—there is a door between the prisoner's two rooms; it was open, I think, during the interview when I received the order, because I pointed to the test scales which stood in the outer office—I don't know if it is a glass door which you can see through—the prisoner employs three clerks, I think—I think there were two in the outer office on that occasion; I don't know their names—before the action was commenced there was no other attempt to compromise—I then began an faction for the payment of the amount on my invoice—the prisoner counter-claimed, and we went to trial before the Assistant Judge in the Mayor's Court, on the 22nd and 25th January—on the first day my evidence was taken—the prisoner gave evidence on 25th January. (SIR EDWARD CLARKE stated that the should not object to the prosecutor giving evidence of what the prisoner had sworn at the trial, as lie understood MR. MUIR had no better evidence, and it was undesirable to call the Judge, before whom the case was tried)—the prisoner, when in the witness box, said that he gave me this letter in my hands when I was in the office, and that made a contract; he was asked particularly twice, and warned that I had got a witness in Court, and he still stuck to it that he gave me that letter into my hands, and that I brought it away with me—I do not think he said anything more as to that letter or interview.
Cross-examined. I am responsible for this prosecution—I gave instructtions for the institution of it, and made myself personally liable for my
solicitor's (Mr. Bradley) costs in respect of it—at the trial on 25th January I obtained a verdict for the amount due to me, £16 0s. 7d., and also a verdict on the counter-claim—that same afternoon I assigned that debt to Mr. Matthews, one of the directors of Cartwright, Limited, the people from whom I bought the stuff, because they asked me, and I wished to do so; in fact, I first asked Mr. Bradley or Mr. Cartwright, I am not sure which: to take the assignment, and it was given to Mr. Matthews—I was responsible for a letter written on the very day of the judgment by Mr. Bradley, saying that unless the prisoner handed the bearer cash for £16 0s. 7d. execution would be issued on the judgment the first thing next morning; it was written with my sanction—I knew the prisoner had been carrying on business at 66, Mark Lane for a long time; I did not know for how many years—my object in assigning the debt and in authorising the letter to be written was because I was so much annoyed at what the prisoner said in his evidence, and the falsehoods he told—I did not find out that at the Mayor's Court execution could not he issued till the costs were taxed; I did not go into that matter—I was not consulted about it after that letter was written: it passed entirely into Mr. Matthews' hands—I knew that the costs wove immediately taxed, and that on 30th January, five days later, the prisoner's solicitor paid £40 19s. 1d., the debt and costs—I never knew of Mr. Peter Matthews having or having had anything to do with the prisoner's affairs, for I only know Mr. Matthews as a director of Cartwright, limited; I do not know that he is a barrister—I know nothing of trans-actions between the prisoner and Cartwright, Limited—I think this bargain began on 8th May, and the Correspondence from then till September all had reference to the same transaction—during the whole of the transaction I had in my possession the sample which the prisoner had first sent me on 8th May, and which I was to match—that sample was too small; it was not easy to match it, and I had a larger one, in order that I might match it more easily and more exactly—on receipt of the prisoner's letter of 17th June, I think I saw the prisoner, and I saw Mr. Cartwright as well—I got a wire from him, but I cannot tell the date—I don't know that I have the wire; I never mentioned it before; I had no occasion to do so; it has nothing to do with the order, only that my transactions were being attended to—I should say I saw Cartwright almost immediately after receiving the letter of 17th, which was a Saturday—I did not show the letter to Cartwright; I told them what I wanted; I did not tell them who my buyer was—I had before that given them the sample I had received from the prisoner, and they supplied the sample I took to the prisoner as the nearest they could do—I don't think I told Cartwright's what the prisoner told me, that if it did not match it would be of no good—I asked them in the ordinary way to send me a sample to match—that would be on the 20th, by the letter; I cannot tell on which day exactly; it would be the Tuesday, possibly—I have no recollection; I should think it would be the 19th—I think I took the sample; I cannot be certain about that; I should think most likely I should take it—on the 20th, when I went to the prisoner, certain colours had been rubbed out on glass; that is a test for colour—the tests for shade and softness would be rubbed out on glass, and the tests for strength and covering power would be by the test scales—it was something between 10 and 11.30
when I went to the prisoner's office on 20th—I came to my office that morning about 9.30; I do not remember exactly the time—I went to my office before I went to the prisoner's—I saw Mr. Cartwright himself on Tuesday, 20th, at their place in Fenchurch Street, and gave the order verbally; I gave no memorandum then; I got no memorandum from them—I told them the order should be confirmed, and my marks and particulars should follow—I don't know that I said anything about the marks, that I said the order should be confirmed—I told them the order should be confirmed with my marks—I had said nothing to the prisoner about marks; I mentioned it to Mr. Cartwright, because I should want my own mark put on—I did not give the marks then; I had not time then to go back to my office and write; I wanted to write my marks—my mark is "J. R.A." in a zigzag—I wanted to write that and the order altogether—the prisoner was anxious to have this stuff at once, and I went at once and ordered it; and next morning I confirmed the order; I was going to give an order in the regular way in writing, and the order in a regular way in writing I gave next morning, after I had read the document of 20th June, before I put the prisoner's mark on the casks instead of my own—when I gave the regular order for the goods I acted on this memorandum of 20th June; the casks were marked as per that order—when I read this document of 20th June, I did not consider it altered the bargain which had been made between me and the prisoner, because I read it after his having selected that sample—no mention was made of this document from 20th June up to September, and no mention would have been made of it if the prisoner had not made this out as a contract in the Court—I attached no importance to it at the time—I do not know the names of the prisoner's clerks—I have seen them from time to time.
Re-examined. When I gave my order in writing I acted on the document of 20th June with regard to the mark of a Z in a diamond—there was nothing else in it to act on with regard to anything else—I acted on it with regard to the last two lines, "The red must be an exact match to our sample in every respect, or it will be rejected."
The RECORDER intimated that after this evidence with regard to the letter of 20th June, although there might be matter for dispute in a civil Court, it was hardly a case on which a man should be tried for perjury. The JURY thereupon found the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
400. JOHN SALMON (31) PLEADED GUILTY to three indictments for forging and altering endorsements on orders for the payment of £411 2s. 4d., £13 4s. 5d., and £23 3s. 6d.; also to stealing £3 orders for the payment of the same sums, the property of William Voss and others, his masters; also to embezzling £34 17s. 4d., the property of the same persons. (MR. VOSS, a Solicitor, stated that he took the prisoner into his service in November upon a character which he found the prisoner had written for himself; that since his arrest he had found in a private diary kept by the prisoner the names and addresses of clients and of solicitors with whom he (MR. VOSS corresponded and their bankers).— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
401. DOYAL CHUNDER DUTT (23) , to two indictments for unlawfully obtaining two sums of £5 each, and to a previous conviction at Clerkenwell on 25th July, 1892; other convictions were proved against him.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
402. WILLIAM WALTER HALFORD (22), to two indictments for stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, two post packets, the property of the Post-master General.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Month's Hard Labour.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
FRANCIS ROBERT HOARE . I am a wharfinger, of the South-Eastern Wharf, Southwark—a little before three p.m. on 9th April I was in. Tower Hill Gardens—I felt someone push against me, and shortly afterwards I saw my watch-chain hanging down, and found my watch was gone—I gave £25 for it—I had worn it on that day. I last saw it within an hour before, I think.
Cross-examined. When I felt someone push against me, a number of persons were on the pavement—I was looking over the heads of the crowd, which was looking at the soldiers drilling in the ditch, when someone pushed towards me.
CHRISTOPHER BLARKING . I am a carman, of 91, Anthony Street, St. George's—on 9th April I was in the Tower Hill Gardens about three—I saw the prisoner and two or three men in company with him following round a gentleman—they closed up round him as he was looking at the soldiers pick up the guns—I stood beside him—the prisoner walked away; the gentleman turned round, and I said to him, "You have lost your watch"—he looked down, and his chain was hanging down—I kept my eye which way the prisoner went, and I ran and told a policeman, who caught him en the top of Tower Hill—I was as close to the prisoner as I am to this bar of the witness-box—I saw him take the gentleman's watch.
Cross-examined. The prisoner stood in front of the prosecutor, and the other three men closed round behind him—I was outside the three who were between me and the gentleman—his back was turned to me—that was when I saw the watch taken—I had not seen any of these men before—several other men and women were close to the prosecutor—when I pointed out the prisoner to the constable he was a few yards off, walking along the railings by himself.
Re-examined. I had seen the three men with the prisoner before—I believe I saw him take the watch out of the pocket—the prisoner dropped his arms directly afterwards.
JAMES AINGER . I live at 31, Bacon Street—I was on Tower Hill Gardens on a Monday in April—I saw the prisoner take the watch from the prosecutor's left-hand pocket, and hand it to another man, and walk out at the gate—I was about three yards off when I saw him do it.
Cross-examined. A number of people were looking through the railings—I was behind all the people—I saw Blarking; he stood in front of me—there were several grown-up men bigger than I, between me and the prosecutor, whose back was turned to me—I did not see over the heads of the men—the prisoner handed the watch to another man when he was still in the crowd—the three men and the other persons had moved away then from between me and the prosecutor—Blarking, who stood in front of me, could see the man pass the watch to the other man as well us I could.
Re-examined. The prisoner stood beside the gentleman; no one was between me and the prisoner—I saw the top of the watch, I am sure.
ALBERT EVANS . I live at 28, Baker Street—I was in the Tower Hill Gardens, looking at some drilling—I saw the prisoner put his fingers in the gentleman's pocket and get the watch up and break the link of the chain, he was just going out at the gate, and he handed it to another man—he went one way, and the other man the other.
Cross-examined. Breaking the link made a snapping noise; I did not hear it, I saw it—I was with Ainger; I was about three yards from the prisoner—I was sitting on a seat looking at them; people were in front of me, standing between us—I saw Blarking; he was nearer the prosecutor than I was—I could clearly see the watch taken; I saw the prisoner hand it to another man.
Re-examined. The seat I was on was about three yards from the prisoner; I could see him; a man was between us—the prisoner was standing beside the prosecutor; two or three men were standing at the gate, waiting for him to come out—the prisoner went like that (describing), with one hand under the other—the prosecutor was on the prisoner's right side.
GEORGE HARVEY (395 H). About three p.m. on 9th April I was on duty at Tower Hill Gardens, when Blarking spoke to me and pointed out the prisoner—I ran after and caught him at the corner of Tower Street—he was walking sharply—he said, "Why do you stop me in this manner?"—I said, "I have had you pointed out to me as the man who stole the gentleman's watch"—he said, "You are mistaken; I have no watch"—I took him to the station and searched him; no watch was found on him, but I found £1 8s. 8 1/2 d., of which a half-sovereign was in gold—he said, "May I speak to the sergeant?" and he said, "Will you inform Mrs. Lambert that I am here, 24, Murdle Street, Hoxton?"—I sent a message by wire.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was crossing the road, and the constable came and took hold of me. I said to the gentleman, "Have I taken your watch?' He said, 'No.'
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in March, 1890, in the name of Isaac Harris. Nine other convictions were proved against him; fifteen months of the sentence passed in 1890 remained to be served.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, April 30th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALICE FIELDING . I am barmaid at the Engineers' Arms, Gloucester Road, Regent's Park—on the night of April 16th, about six p.m., the prisoner came in with another man and asked for two half-pints of mild and bitter ale, price 3d., and gave me this coin—he did not say what it was—I told him it was light, and tried it against another half-sovereign—he could see me doing that, and said, "What is the matter with that coin? I should like to have a sack full of them"—I took it to the governor in
the bar parlour, leaving him there—I was not away half a minute, and found them both there—Mr. Blackburn came to them, and said, "This is not a half-sovereign; it is a gilded sixpence"—the prisoner smiled and said, "Give me change for a sixpence, then"—he said, "No; I shall give you in charge."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not ask me for change for a half-sovereign.
STEPHEN BLACKBURN . I keep the Engineers' Arms, Gloucester Road—on April 16th Miss Fielding brought me a coin—I went into the bar, and told the prisoner it was a gilded sixpence—he smiled, and said, "Very well, then; I will take it for sixpence"—I said, "No, you won't; I shall charge you"—he said, "Very well; I shall pack up my tools, and take my hook"—I said, "Wherever you go, I shall follow you"—he made several attempts to go away, but I gave him in custody with the coin—he was quite sober.
FRANCIS STANTON (375 S). On 16th April I was called to the Engineers' Arms and found the prisoner detained by Mr. Blackburn, who said that he had uttered a gilt sixpence for a half-sovereign; he said nothing; I took him to the station, searched him, and found a spectacle case, some wadding, fourpence, and a packet of cards—Mr. Blackburn handed me this coin (Produced).
Prisoner's defence. I have lived in the same road two years—I went to this public-house and put it down as a sixpence—I had carried it about for two or three years—I never tendered it as a half-sovereign.
GUILTY .— Discharged on recognizances.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
LAURA CLAPER . I keep a general shop at 22, Holmes Road, Kentish Town—on April 21st, between six and 6.30, the prisoner, who I knew before, came in for a pennyworth of cheese, and gave me a half-crown—I asked him if he had smaller change—he said) "No"—I gave him 2s. 5d. change, and he left—I gave the coin to my aunt immediately in changing a half-sovereign for her; she said it was bad, and went up to her mother, and then brought it back to me in the same state—I kept it—a detective told me to mark it, and I did so—this is it—I picked the prisoner out from a number of men the same evening—I failed at first, because I was not sure of him.
The prisoner. Yes, I was in the shop.
ELLEN WHITEAR . I am a general dealer, of 35, Inkerman Street, Kentish Town, about five minutes' walk from the other shop—on April 21st a man came in between six and seven for a pennyworth of cheese, and gave me a half-crown—I said, "Have not you a penny?"—he said, "No"—I gave him 2s. 5d. and he left—I sent my little daughter out with the coin, and she brought it back broken in two—I went after the man, and found him in Cathcart Street, the next turning, and told him to give me the money back that he had from me—he said he knew nothing
about it—I said, "Yes, you do; if you do not give it to me I will lock you up"—he gave me the 2s. 5d. by degrees—I asked him to give me the cheese—he said, "I have not got any cheese"—I said, "You have got it, unless you have eaten it coming along"—he said, "Yes, I have eaten it"—I said, "No, you have not; I see it in the lining of your coat"—he then produced it, and I gave him the broken coin—I went to the station on Saturday night, and pointed out the prisoner from a number of men.
HANNAH SENNY . I keep a tobacconist's shop at 94, Grafton Road, Kentish Town, which is just round the corner from Holmes Road—on April 21st, between six and seven p.m., I served the prisoner with one pennyworth of tobacco; he gave me a half crown; I bent it in the tester, and told him it was bad; he said his master gave it to him—I gave it back to him; he gave me a penny, and left—I identified him next day from a number of men at the Police-station.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I am sure you are the man.
JOHN TAYLOR (Detective Y.) On April 21st Mr. T gave me a description, and I took the prisoner the same night in a public-house in Holmes Road, about 150 yards from Inkerman Road—it would take a person to go from one to the other, and it is about the same distance from the other shop—I told him I should take him for passing a bad half-crown in the shop—he said, "I never went into the shop"—I searched him at the station, and found four shillings, three-pence, a purse, and a knife—he made no reply when charged—he gave his correct address, 43, Victoria Road—I was present at the station when Mrs. Senny and Miss Whitear identified him.
Prisoner's defence. I did not know the half-crown was bad; I gave a man 2s. 6d. for it.
GUILTY .†— Nine Month's Hard Labour.
406. SARAH JAKE OATTEN (27), and ALICE BLABY (22) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it. (See Vol. CXIX., page 286.) The Court for Crown Cases Reserved having confirmed Blaby's conviction in the former case, MR. PARTRIDGE, for the prosecution, withdrew the case as to Blaby, and offered no evidence against OATTEN.
NOT GUILTY .Blaby was then sentenced to Six Months' Hard Labour upon the former indictment
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
FREDERICK BENNETT . I am assistant to James Epps, a chemist, of 170, Piccadilly—on April 12th, about 11.30 a.m., the prisoner came in for two ounces of Epsom salts at 3d. per ounce—I told him we did not keep Epsom salts at such an exorbitant price; mine was 1d. per ounce—he said he would take what I had, and I supplied him—he tendered a half-crown; I dropped it on the counter; it sounded very well, but not being satisfied,
I put it in the tester and broke it, and said I should charge him—he said he must have taken it in mistake—I called the manager, who sent for a constable—the prisoner said, "Show me the coin"—I refused—this is it.
JOHN PEARCE (10 CR). On April 12th I was called to Mr. Epps' shop, and Bennett charged the prisoner with attempting to pass a bad half-crown there—he said he did not do it intentionally, and must have taken it by mistake—I searched him in the shop, and found a florin, two shillings, and a sixpence—he made no answer—I found a box of chocolate on him, in consequence of which I went to Miss James—the prisoner gave me his address at Highgate, but I could not find it—he was charged, and made no reply.
ANNIE JAMES . I am manageress at a confectioner's shop, 124, Regent Street—on April 12th the prisoner came in for a Japanese dessert—I had not got one, and took a box of chocolates out of the window, which he purchased for sixpence, and tendered me a half-crown which looked white and new—there were three other half-crowns in the till, but they were old ones—I identified the prisoner at once.
GUILTY .**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
HORACE HEARNE . I am a labourer, and live at a common lodging-house, 33, Great Peter Street, Westminster—on April 3rd I came home about one a.m., and went to the kitchen—the two prisoners were sitting there, and twenty or thirty other people—O'Connor asked me to lend him some money—I had occasionally seen him there, but did not know his name—I pulled out my purse, containing a sovereign and six or seven shillings, and gave him sixpence—shortly afterwards I went up to bed—I heard no one behind me, but suddenly heard a step, and turned round and saw O'Connor; he put his arm round my neck violently—my throat was painful for a week afterwards—I clapped my left hand on my pocket and tried to throw him, but Vaughan came to his assistance—I struck Vaughan in the face—O'Connor put his hand in my pocket and took my purse—they rushed up to the top landing, and I ran after them—O'Connor disappeared into one of the bed-rooms—there are five rooms, each containing twenty or twenty-five men—I found Vaughan on the landing, and knocked him down—I met the deputy, who sent me for two policemen—he detained Vaughan, and I found O'Connor in bed—they know I am an Army Reserve man, and had my money that day—I had received £4 10s. 10d., which is paid quarterly—we are all paid on the same day—a great many Army Reserve men occupy this lodging-house, and pensioners too—I have known Vaughan two years, and O'Connor not so long.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. I had had a drop of drink, but I was not drunk.
GEORGE BUDGEN (21 A R). On 3rd April, about 1.45 a.m., I was on duty in Great Peter Street—Hearne made a complaint, and I went with him to 33, Great Peter Street, to the second landing, and saw Vaughan in charge of the deputy—O'Connor had been in bed, and was coming
downstairs—I told him the charge—they said they knew nothing about it—I took them to the station, and found on O'Connor a half-crown, three shillings, some bronze, and an opera glass; and on Vaughan only a handkerchief; they were perfectly sober—Hearne was the worse for drink, but he gave me an intelligible account of what he said had been done to him—he complained of his throat—he seemed to have his senses about him—he looked as if he had been violently used, but there were no marks of violence on him—he was flushed about the face as if he had been violently pulled about—Vaughan had a slight swelling under his left ear on his cheek bone, as if from a blow, and complained that Hearne had knocked him down—no purse has been found—I went into the room where O'Connor said he had been sleeping; a number of men were sleeping there.
THOMAS----. I am deputy at 3, Great Peter Street—on April 3rd, between one and two a.m., Hearne came to me in the kitchen and complained that he had been robbed—I went up, and found Vaughan coming down from the third to the second floor—O'Connor slept on the fourth floor—I asked Vaughan where the money was—he said, "You can have what I have got," and pulled out 5d.—I went up to O'Connor, and found him in bed and undressed—I asked him where the money was that he had taken, and said, "If you do not give it to me I will charge you"—he said, "Then I must be charged"—I have known him three or four years, and Vaughan had lodged in the house two years, on and off.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. Every lodger gives up a ticket the last thing when he goes to bed—you went up between one and two, not between twelve and 12.30.
Cross-examined by Vaughan. I did not see Hearne strike you; I went up with you, and met him coming down.
Re-examined. They both gave up their tickets at the same time—they were in the kitchen together before the complaint was made—I saw Hearne come in and sit down beside the prisoners—there are 240 men there; I don't take notice of everybody—Hearne gave up his ticket, and they followed him five minutes afterwards.
Cross-examined by Vaughan. I sometimes put a man on to collect the tickets if I am away, but I was in charge on this night, and my man drew my attention to the prisoners, and I watched them.
By the COURT. Vaughan did not say that he had been knocked down—there are lights burning all night, so that I can distinguish one man from the other.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—O'Connor says: "I know nothing about it. I was in bed, when the deputy came and asked me if I would turn my money up. I said, 'What money I have is my own.'" Vaughan says: "The reason I was upstairs is, someone stole my hat; when I came down, I was given in charge for this robbery."They repealed the same statements in their defences.
GUILTY .—O'CONNOR— Twelve Months.
VAUGHAN— Nine Months.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 1st, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
409. ARCHIBALD URRY (33) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering an endorsement to an order for £16, with intent to defraud. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. He received a good character from a witness, who undertook to employ him.— Judgment respited.
MR. H. C. RICHARDS Prosecuted.
JAMES WRIGHT . I am head paper-keeper of the Money Order Office at Mount Pleasant, Clerkenwell—on 18th April, in the afternoon, I made up a letter, and put in it £1 19s. 7d., consisting of a sovereign, half-sovereign, a florin, and a penny, for Mr. Walters, a paper-keeper in my department—I addressed the letter to Mr. W. T. Walters, 25, Cornford Road, Peckham—I fastened the envelope, and registered it, and gave it to Mr. Courtney to dispatch to the post—Walters was absent on sick leave, and this was his weekly money.
CHARLES COURTNEY . I am a paper-keeper employed in the office at Mount Pleasant—on the afternoon of 18th April I received from Mr. Wright a registered letter, addressed to Mr. Walters—I gave it to the guard of the official omnibus to take to Mr. Pavitt, and he brought back this receipt.
GEORGE PAVITT . I am guard of the official postal omnibus which runs between Mount Pleasant and the General Post Office—on the afternoon of 18th April Mr. Courtney gave me a registered letter, addressed to Mr. Walters, of Cornford Road, Peckham—I gave a receipt for it to Mr. Courtney—it was about six when the letter was registered.
JOHN THOMAS WEBB . I am counter man at the General Post Office, St. Martin's-le-Grand—on 18th April, between six and 6.30, I received a registered letter addressed to Mr. Walters—I entered it in a book, which I produce—I gave it to Joseph Bovier, who signed my book for it.
JOSEPH BOBEER . I am a second-class sorter at the General Post Office—on 18th April I received a registered letter from Webb, addressed to Mr. Walters—I gave a receipt for it in this book—this is my signature—I put it in a sealed bag and took it to the Registered Letter Office, where I received a signature for it in this other book.
WILLIAM CORDWELL . I am a first-class sorter in the Registered Letter Office—I signed this book for two bags—there were two registered letters in one bag—the bags were sealed when I received them—I sorted them up in the usual course—Mr. McCarthy, the dispatching officer, would have them—a letter for Cornford Road, Peckham, would be sorted to the S. E. district.
JOHN THOMAS MCCARTHY . I am a first-class sorter at the General Post Office—I was on duty on the evening of 18th April—this is my handwriting against the name of Walters in this book—it represents the dispatch of a registered letter sent to the S. E. district office about 7.5 p.m.; that was when it left my hands.
FRANK AUGUSTUS ELSWORTHY . I am a first-class sorter at the S. E. District office—I was on duty on the evening of 18th April—I received a registered letter addressed to Walters—I handed it to Wickes, who signed this letter bill for it, as well as myself.
office—I was on duty there on the evening of 18th April—I received from Elsworthy a registered letter addressed to Walters—I put my initial against it, and dispatched it to Peckham by the 7.40 p.m. dispatch, with three other letters.
ROBERT EDWARD HEATH . I am head postman at the Peckham Post Office—on 18th April I signed the letter bill for this registered letter, and entered it in a book and handed the letter to the prisoner with these two forms—he gave me this counterfoil as a receipt; the other part I gave the prisoner to get signed by the recipient of the letter—this counterfoil is signed by the prisoner—he would go out on the 8.15 p.m. delivery; he ought to have brought back the receipt to the office and placed it on the file—Cornford Road is about a mile from the office—I have frequently seen the prisoner write; I cannot say that I know his writing well—the receipt is signed in the name of Walters—I have been in the Peckham Office three or four years.
JOHN DWYER . I am the Overseer of the Peckham Post Office—the prisoner was employed there, and has been an auxiliary letter carrier since July last—his duty was on the first and last deliveries—I produce a receipt purporting to be signed by Walters; I found it on the file; it would be put there by the prisoner, and then pasted in a book with the counterfoil the following day by the head postman—the postman's duty would be to deliver it at the house to the addresses, or to some responsible person who he believed was authorised to take it—the prisoner was supplied with a book of the rules at the office; I produce a copy of them—I have had an opportunity of noticing the prisoner's handwriting while in the office—in my opinion the signature of "Walters" is in the handwriting of the prisoner.
WILLIAM THOMAS WALTERS . I am employed at the Mount Pleasant Post Office—on 18th April I was absent on sick leave, and on the 17th I wrote for my money to be sent to me in a registered letter—I expected it on the Saturday—on Wednesday evening, 18th April, I was at home, sitting in the breakfast parlour, the front room downstairs—I was there all the evening—I expected a letter between nine and ten—I have no letter-box on the door; it would be necessary for the postman to knock—there is a small garden in front, running from the pavement to the window—the door is about five or six feet from the pavement, so close that I can hear anyone talking in the garden; if two persons had come within the gate that evening I should have heard them—I did not receive thin letter then, or on any other evening—I have given no one authority to write my name on a letter form—this receipt is not mine—I was expecting this letter, and was listening for the postman on that night—I feel certain that no one came to the house that night—the blinds were down.
WILLIAM THOMAS EDWARDS . I am a clerk in the secretary's office at the General Post Office—I am principally employed in confidential inquiries—this book is a copy of the rules—on 24th April I saw the prisoner at the General Post Office—I said to him, "I am investigating the loss of a registered letter, posted on the 18th April, addressed to Mr. W. T. Walters, of 25, Cornford Road, Peckham, containing £1 19s. 7d.; this letter was handed to you for delivery on the night of the 18th, and you signed for it. What did you do with that letter?"—he said, "I
delivered it. I was going up Cornford Road, and a man came up to me and asked if I had anything for No. 25—I said, 'Yes,' but I could not give it up in the street; 'I will take it to the house.' I went up to the house; the man was standing inside the gate; the man took the letter and signed for it; he held it up against the wall and signed for it"—I said, "Do you know the man?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Did you knock at the door?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Had you ever seen the man before?"—he said, "No, I don't know that I had seen him before"—I said, "The receipt is signed in pencil"—he said, "Yes, sir, I handed the man my pencil"—I said, "What time did you deliver the letter?"—he said, "About half-past nine"—I said, "That receipt appears to be signed in your handwriting"—he said, "It is not my writing"—I then produced this form, which he filled up on entering the service—I said, "Is this your writing?"—he examined it and said, "Yes"—it is my special duty to compare handwriting—I have been examined as an expert in this Court and others—in my opinion this writing on the receipt is the prisoner's—there is a peculiar capital T and a capital W just above; that T is exactly like the prisoner's capital T, but it is in a different inclination; there is a resemblance between the two W's—there is a distance between the capital W and the letters following—that is a peculiarity in the prisoner's writing—he also invariably writes above the line, never on the line—that is a peculiarity of his throughout the form of application, and there is the same on the receipt; those are the similarities upon which I rely—in my opinion the handwriting on the receipt for the registered letters is in the prisoner's writing—considering the thinness of the paper on which it is written, I should say it was impossible it could have been written against the wall without showing the marks—I did not examine the wall at the time; it is a concrete wall, indented by the grain; it is a kind of sandy material—it would have been dark at half-past nine, and it would be difficult for a man to write in a direct line—the prisoner may have had a lamp, but as a rule he did not carry one.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. At the time you were at the Post Office you wrote, at my request, the name of Walters, and you wrote it above the line—I have been eight years in this department—I have been five years occupied in comparing handwriting.
FREDERICK BROOKS . I am a constable attached to the Post Office—on 24th April, about eight a.m., I stopped the prisoner in Kirkwood Road, Peckham, after ho had finished his delivery—I told him who I was, and took him to the General Post Office, to Mr. Edwards—I opened his bag; it contained a small packet unopened, with a tie label with an address on it—I was present at the conversation between Mr. Edwards and the prisoner—I confirm Mr. Edwards' evidence—I searched the prisoner; I found on him a small lady's watch in a black case, a purse, threepence, a knife, and other small articles—I went to his lodging, 18, Kimberley Road, Peckham, and there found an imitation gold chain, with an imitation pencil-case attached, six other silver pencils, a silver fruit knife, a silver thimble, two purses, and some memoranda—I charged him with stealing this letter, and also the packet, and with forging the receipt—he made no reply.
Prisoner's defence. All I can say is that I gave the letter to a respectable-looking man. He asked me if T had anything for 25. I said
I could not give it to him in the road; I took him inside his gate; he stood on the third step. I said "Walters?" He said "Yes," and I gave him the letter, and he signed the receipt for it. I took the receipt, and put it on the file.
W. T. WALTERS (Re-examined). I had not mentioned to anyone that I was expecting a registered letter that evening—I had never seen the prisoner previously—the front of the house has not been painted since I have lived there—it has a rough surface; it has an even surface enough to write on.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
There was an indictment against the prisoner for stealing a packet found in his bag, and a test letter wan also in it, which had not been opened.
411. THOMAS RICKETTS (60) , PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Coleman, and stealing spoons and other articles; also to a burglary in the dwelling-house of John Bowman Westcott, and stealing knives and other articles; also* to a conviction of felony in December, 1893.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
412. HENRIETTA BLACKBURN (alias ESTHER CROSS ) (46) , to willfully causing to be inserted in a register of marriage the statement that she was a widow, whereas her husband was alive. ( [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] The prisoner pleaded NOT GUILTY to another indictment for bigamy.)— Six Weeks' Imprisonment.
413. PATRICK RYAN (29) , to stealing a pair of boots, the property of Kenneth McDonald; also to assaulting Bertie Causton, a constable, in the execution of his duty; and to a conviction** of felony in April, 1889.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude.
414. RALPH LACEY (29) , to breaking and entering the shop of Dunkerley and stealing a diamond ring and a diamond brooch; also to a conviction in May, 1888, in the name of Alfred Small. Seven other conviction is were proved against the prisoner.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Five Years' Penal Servitude. And
415. CHARLES PRESTON (18) , to attempting to procure the commission by Ernest Burton of an act of gross indecency, and to indecently assaulting Ernest Burton. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] The prisoner's brother stated that a situation was awaiting the prisoner upon his release.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 1st, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
416. WILLIAM BROWN (33), and HERBERT ASHMORE (23) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Newman, and stealing two pairs of boots and three handkerchiefs, his property; Brown having been convicted at Chelmsford on July 23rd, 1888, in the name of William Russell.
BROWN**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ASHMORE— [Pleaded Guilty] Judgment respited.
417. ANDREW ANGUS (16), JOSEPH WALSH (17), GEORGE COOKE (16), FREDERICK BRYAN (17), ALEXANDER WESTON (18), and CHARLES HARRISON (17) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Mason, and stealing a cash-box and £6 15s., his property; Walsh having been convicted on May 13th, 1893.
[Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Cook and Bryan received good characters Harrison, Weston, Walsh, and Angus were stated to be the associates of thieves. COOKE and BRYAN discharged on recognizances ; WALSH— Ten Months ; WESTON— Six Weeks ; HARRISON— Five Months; and ANGUS— Six Months' Hard Labour.
420. ALFRED HARVEY (21) , to unlawfully obtaining one pound of tobacco from Frederick Cook, two pounds from George Pearce, and other quantities from other persons.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. And
421. RICHARD YOUNG (32), and JOHN DODD (30) , to stealing a cash-box and £17 2s. 6d. in money, the property of Ralph Glasscott Thalcom; Young having been convicted in January, 1884, and Dodd at Newington, on January 6th, 1885. (A witness stated that Dodd had been in employment from 1888 to 1892) [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.]
DODD**— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
YOUNG**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. LUSHINGTON Defended.
ROBERT CAVANAGH . I live at 4, Baythorne Street, Mile End Old Town—on Sunday, April 1st, about 12.30, I secured the place—I heard a rustling about two o'clock, and somebody walking across the passage, and then, the prisoner walked into my bedroom—I jumped out of bed, and told my wife to get my revolver—he went out, and I followed him—there was light from the street lamp—I got into the street, and was as close to the prisoner as I am to you—I saw his face, and am sure he is the man—I shouted for the police, and after that I put on my trousers, and blew my police whistle; the police came up, and said they had got a man in custody—I think I have seen the prisoner loitering about the neighbourhood—I found a foot-bath in the garden, and the key of the front door, which was, taken from a slab in the hall.
Cross-examined. There was no light in our bedroom or in the passage, only from the street lamp—I did not see the prisoner's face in the bedroom or in the passage; he was walking out—I said at the Police-court that I recognised him by his back; there is a peculiar cut with him—he lives about half an hour's walk off.
CHARLES CHAPMAN (198 A). On April 1st, about 2 a.m., I was on duty, and heard cries of "Police!" and a door slam—I saw the prisoner running in a direction from the prosecutor's house, and endeavoured to stop him, but failed—finding he was a better runner than I, I threw my truncheon at him and hit him on the head, which brought him to the ground—I blew my whistle, and three constables came up—when the charge was made at the station the prisoner said, "It is false."
Cross-examined. I was at the corner of St. Paul's Road and Baythorne
Street—the prisoner was running towards me as fast as he could—I got out of sight, and when he got to the corner I ran out, but failed to stop him—I know him by sight as living in the neighbourhood—the prosecutor's house is forty yards down Baythorne Street, and the prisoner was running on the same side when I heard the door bang—the prosecutor came to the door undressed.
JOHN OLDFIELD (565 K). I was on duty, heard a whistle, and saw Chapman with the prisoner lying on the ground—I remained in charge of the prisoner; he tried to get away, and did so after a severe struggle, but he was re-captured—after daylight I found this key where the struggle took place; it is the key of Mr. Cavanagh's door.
R. CAVANAGH (Re-examined). This is the key of my door.
Cross-examined. My door was locked, and the key was on a slab outside my bedroom door—the prisoner went out by the hall door, which was fastened with two bolts and a chain; this is a latch-key; we fasten back the latch in the day—the door was ready for the prisoner to open, and he opened it and slammed it in my face—he had not got further than I am from you when I got out.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent. I came round the corner, and the constable said, 'You need not come running back,' and hit me this blow with his truncheon; down I went, and I do not recollect anything more."
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 2nd, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
Upon the evidence of Dr. George Edward Walker, surgeon of Holloway Prison, the JURY found the prisoner to be insane, and unfit to plead to the indictment.— Ordered to be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
ROBERT HEWLAND . I am a surveyor—I live at Bedford Mansions, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden—at 12.30 a.m. on Friday, 20th April, I was coming from Leicester Square to Henrietta Street—I noticed the prisoner following me, and as I was turning from a small court into Cranbourne Street, goinghome, he asked me for a shilling—I motioned him away, and walked very quickly—he followed me through the court into St. Martin's Lane; I crossed the road rapidly, and went into a public-house to dodge and get rid of him—as I went in at the door he said, "If you will give me a drink I will go away"—I gave him a glass of beer, which be drank, and I drank some whisky—he went out first, and, as I thought, he went one way and I went the other, but within a minute or so he came up again—I was, wearing this pin, set with turquoises and pearls—he repeated his request for a shilling, but not in so many words—I cannot recollect
exactly his words—I walked rapidly on, and he followed and snatched my pin out of my scarf—I took hold of him, and said I would give him in charge—he begged very hard of me not to do so—he said, "Oh, do not give me in charge; I will give you back your pin if you will give me some money"—he entreated very much—I had only a few pence—I was then within a few steps of my own door, and I said, "I have no money with me"—I have never given anyone in charge before, and I said if he would take a few shillings I would give it to him, and would not give him in charge if he would give me back my pin—he said, "Very well"—I opened the street door of Bedford Mansions, and the prisoner stepped within—my chambers are on the third floor—the porter lives in the basement—he closes at eleven—the prisoner said, "I will remain here"—I ran up to my flat—after I returned from going into one of my rooms, I found he was in the entrance—I had left the door of my flat open, and he was in the hall—that was almost immediately afterwards—he said, "Now I am here, I do not want any of your silver; I will have some gold"—he said he wanted £1, and gradually increased it to £5—he said, "If you don't give me £5, I won't stir," and that he would accuse me of an awful offence, that he would not stick at anything—there was an altercation—he said, "If you don't give me £5 I will accuse you of taking liberties with me"—that he would swear anything—I said a good deal to persuade him—I said if he kept to his original plan, and would give me my pin, I would give him what he demanded, and would withdraw what he said he would accuse me of—I was quite sober—I was dumbfounded, and did not know whether to call my two maid-servants—I finally called the porter, Watkins, whom I told in the prisoner's presence that the prisoner had taken my pin, and that I had said I would pay him for it (I meant, give him the few shillings he asked for), and that he had demanded £5 from me, and threatened unless I did that he would accuse me—I told the porter to fetch a constable, which he did—I gave the prisoner into custody on the charge of stealing my pin—I went to the Police-station, and told the officer in charge what I have now stated in the prisoner's hearing—he said that he knew nothing about it—I went to the Police-court the same morning, gave my evidence, and the prisoner was committed for trial—on my return from the City in the evening I found my servant, Ada Todd, had placed my pin in my bedroom—it is not true that in Leicester Square I said "Good evening" to the prisoner, or walked with him, or asked him what regiment he belonged to, or if he would like a drink; or that at my chambers I said, "I live here; come in here, but don't make a noise"; or that he sat there, and talked with me half-an-hour, and that all at once I accused him of stealing my scarfpin; or that he said he did not know I had a pin—I believe it is true the porter caught him by the throat, and said, "What is this?" that a minute or two afterwards the constable came, and asked him for the pin—not that I said, "You have my pin," and that he said, "Nothing of the kind"—he was searched at the station, and the pin was not found there—from the time I left Leicester Square till I reached my lodgings in Henrietta Street I saw no policeman.
By the COURT. I had not seen the man before—I am positive I was quite sober; I had been dining with friends at Hampstead—I did not
treat the prisoner as my dearest friend; one does not treat his dearest friend by giving him into custody.
Re-examined. This is my first experience of such an adventure.
JOHN DAVID WATKINS . I am caretaker and porter at Bedford Mansions—the prosecutor has chambers on the third floor; I live in the basement—about 1.30 a.m. on 20th April I was aroused by the prosecutor, who came down and said something to me—I went with him up to his rooms—I saw the prisoner standing inside the door, with his back to the window—prosecutor said in the prisoner's hearing, "This man has stolen my pin, and says that unless I give him £5 he will charge me with * * * and he has stolen my pin"—the prisoner made no reply, only, a little after, he said, "I have not got the pin"—that was a few minutes after—I fetched a constable, and the prisoner was given into custody for stealing the pin—I went to the Police-station, and heard him charged.
JOHN ATKINSON (287 E). I was called to Bedford Mansions, where I heard an altercation between the prosecutor and the prisoner—the prosecutor said he wished to charge the prisoner with stealing his scarf-pin—the prisoner made no reply—I told him he would have to come with me to the station—we all went to Bow Street—the prisoner was charged with stealing the turquoise and pearl scarf-pin, the property of the prosecutor—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. You did not ask me to search you.
By the COURT. He was searched at the Police-station—nothing was found on him.
ADA TODD . I am servant to Mr. Hewland; he lives on the third floor at Bedford Mansions—about one o'clock on the 20th April I was sweeping up the lobby, and when I took up the mat I found the pin (Produced)—I knew Mr. Hewland had gone to Bow Street—the pin was underneath the mat—I gave it to Mr. Hewland.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never spoke such a word as to demand £5. I went to the Empire Theatre last night. As I was coming out through Leicester Square the prosecutor passed by I thought I knew him, and looked at him. He stopped and said 'Good evening.' We walked along, and he asked me what regiment I was in, and as we were passing a public-house in St. Martin's Lane he asked me if I would like to have a drink. I went and had a drink. We came out, and walked by some back streets to Covent Garden till all at once he stopped me near some chambers, and said, 'I live in here; would you like to come up? Do not make, a noise.' We went to the third floor, We sat talking together. All at once he turned round and accused me of stealing his pin. I said 'I did not know you had a pin,' He said, 'Very well.' He walked downstairs, and fetched the porter up. The porter clutched me by the throat, and said, 'What is this?' and he went straight downstairs, and a minute or two afterwards came up with a policeman. The policeman asked me if I had the pin. The prosecutor said, 'Give me the pin, and I will say, no more about it.' I said, 'I have not got it; you may search me if you think I have got it.' I came to the
station, where they searched me. I did not have it." The prisoner, in his defence, stated that the prosecutor had asked him if some money would be any good to him, as he knew soldiers had not much money; that it was not true that he forced his way up, or demanded money; that he had 10s. and 2s. given to him, making all that he had in his pocket, 15s. 3 1/2 d.
GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington in January, 1892.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, May 2nd and 3rd, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
425. GEORGE BROWN (62) , PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the shop of James Amsden, and stealing four boots and one shoe; also to a conviction** of felony in January, 1894.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HURRELL Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTTON Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MESSRS. THORNE COLE and G. A. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Upjohn, MR. MUIR Defended Goddard, and MR. THOMPSON Defended Husband.
FREDERICK POST . I am a groom, living at 14, Exeter Place, Brompton Road—on March 28th I had taken my dog for a run, and was going home at 12.20 midnight when Upjohn ran against me—I came down Launcelot Place and crossed Brompton Road—the two other prisoners were with him—Goddard threw me down—Husband, whom I knew well, said, while I was on the ground, "Go down his pockets and get all he had got"—Goddard felt in my pockets and took 3 1/2 d. from my ticket pocket; it wag; all I had with me—Upjohn stood by the side of Husband—I got up—
Goddard tried to put his hat on my head; I would not have it; then he gave me my own hat, and knocked me down—the other prisoners were then standing on the pavement at the said—when I got up I said to Husband, "All right, Mr. Husband, I know you"—Husband, I think it was said, "We have better nip it; he is off after a rozer"—they ran away—I went and saw a constable, and complained of being robbed, and went back to him to New Street, but I could not see the prisoners—my head was cut fearfully; it struck the side of the pavement; my nose was put on one side, and my lip was cut and bled very much—about eleven o'clock I went with Jennings and Dougall to a public-house, where I pointed out Upjohn and Goddard.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. This took place opposite the Fulham Bridge Public-house, at the corner near Harrod's Stores—I had never seen Upjohn until that night—he ran against me, and I was immediately tumbled down by one of the others—when I got up, Upjohn was standing on the pavement three or four yards off—he was not dressed as he is now—he did not say anything—I do not recognize him by his voice—I was on the side of the road when he ran against me—I am groom to one of the officers living at Knightsbridge Barracks—I live out—I do not know the Grapes—Upjohn was found at the Fulham Bridge Public-house—I heard him say when taken into custody that he knew nothing about it, and that he had not seen me before—I know nothing about him.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. It was darkish corner where I was attacked; there was a lamp at the corner—I had never seen Goddard before that night—I found Upjohn and Goddard together at 10.15 of 10.30 p.m., at the Fulham Bridge Public-house—Goddard is the smallest and lightest of the three men—he knocked me about.
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I left the Earl Gray at 11.45 that night—I had playing in domino tournament there that night for about one and half hours—my dog was with me all the time—I only had one drink there—I had had one drink in the morning about eleven o'clock—I had nothing else to drink that day—I know Husband well; he lives about there—I do not know his address; it may be only three hundred or four hundred yards from where I live—he had his arm in a sling on this night—no one else came up—it took about three or four minutes—Husband said, "Nip it"—all three prisoners ran away—they were standing at the corner when I first saw them—I did not say, "Good-night, Husband"—I have known him three or four years.
Re-examined. The Fulham Bridge, opposite which this happened, was not well lighted—it was 12.20—there was a street lamp ten or twelve yards off—there was light enough to distinctly see the features of the men who attacked me.
By the JURY. My dog is a white Scotch collie—he was a little way in front of me, and took no part in the struggle—he is not particularly timid.
ALFRED JENNINGS (Detective B). At 10.30 on the night of 29th I went with Sergeant Dougall and Post to the Fulham Bridge Public-house—the prosecutor went in, came out, and spoke to us; went in again, came out a second time, and then we called Upjohn and Goddard, whom he pointed out to us—Dougall told them they would be taken into custody
on the charge of highway robbery with violence, and stealing 3l. 2d.—Goddard said, "I don't know anything about it; what time did it happen?"—before I could answer he said, "I left work at half-past five"—I said, "About twelve"—I have not got on my note what I said—Upjohn was in Dougall's custody—I arrested Husband at his house, 29, Raphael Street—I told him the charge—he said, "I saw the row, and the men running away"—I said, "What men?"—he said, "I don't know; I don't know anything about the affair."
Cross-examined by MR. THOMPSON. I believe I used the word "row" before the Magistrate—I had not my notebook out at the time.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I was in the Court when Scott gave evidence; I cannot say that he was called by anybody—he came to the station and made a statement the night prior to the men coming up on remand—Dougall has his statement—Scott was not there on the first occasion—the first hearing was on 30th March, and the remand was till 4th April—on April 3rd Scott came to the station, I think—he made a statement to the inspector, and was told to wait till I and Dougall came in, and when we came in he made a statement which Dougall has in writing; he signed it—he was told if he had anything to say he had better Attend at the Police-court the next morning—he did attend—one of the accused was represented by a legal gentleman—Scott came forward and volunteered his evidence before the Magistrate—he was sworn, bound over, and is here to-day.
WILLIAM DOUGALL (Sergeant B). At 10.30 p.m. on 29th March, I was with Jennings when the prosecutor pointed out Upjohn and Goddard—I called Upjohn out of the public-house and took him into custody, and told him the charge—he said, "You have made a mistake this time, governor"—on the way to the station he said, "What time was it?"—I said, "About a quarter-past twelve"—he said, "I was in the Montpelier playing skittles, on my way home"—I asked him, "Did you meet any person on that night?" (MR. GEOGHEGAN asked the COURT, as the witness had no right to ask the question, not to allow the prisoner's answer to be given. The COURT considered that as the practice was so well established as to the extreme impropriety of constables asking questions of accused persons, the evidence should not be given)—I did not caution him—I searched and found on him nine shillings in silver, and twopence three-farthings in bronze.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. Scott made a statement to me.
This statement was handed to the officer of the COURT.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM KNIGHT . I live at 52, North Street, Sloane Street, Chelsea, and am Upjohn's stepfather—I am a coppersmith—Upjohn assists me in business; he is twenty-three, I think; I have been married to his mother for ten yean—I never heard a word against his character; I never knew him to be in any trouble before—I always found him to be a respectable, steady young fellow; he lives with me—on the 28th March I was upstairs with my wife when he came in at 11.30—he sleeps at the top of the house, I sleep on the second floor—I am sure he did not go out again that night—he lets himself in with a latch key—I went to bed at 11.35—I am sure he shut the street door.
Cross-examined. The Fulham Bridge Public-house is about thirty or
forty yards, I should think, from our house—I saw him come in at 11.30—I remember him coming in jolly at half-past nine the same night—he stopped in about five minutes, and then went out—his mother was with me when he came in at 11.30—the next day he was taken into custody—I am not aware that I talked over the matter with his mother.
ANN KNIGHT . I am Upjohn's mother—this is the first time he has been in trouble—he has always been a good son, and borne a respectable character—I saw my son come home at half-past eleven on 28th March, and go to bed—I was in the room he came into; he wished me good-night, and went to bed—I am sure he did not to go out again that night—I and my husband were called at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I know it was 11.30 because I wound the clock up just before I went to bed—Fulham Bridge Public-house is about five minutes' walk from our place—there is one public-house nearer.
ELIZA GODDARD . I am the wife of James Goddard, a shoemaker—I live at 34, North Street, Sloane Street, about ten minutes' walk from the Fulham Bridge Public-house—I am Goddard's mother; he is twenty-one to-day—he and his two brothers, William and James, live at home with me—he and William sleep in the same room, and James sleeps in an adjoining outer room on the same floor—Thomas would have to come out of his bedroom and go through James's room in order to go downstairs and out—on 28th March he had started work at a new situation with a firm of builders—he came home at 10.30; it was the night before his arrest—I and my husband had supper before he came in—I did not set him come in, but he always calls out "Good-night," and he called out "Good-night" on the stairs, as he always did—he would have his supper upstairs—I am positive he did go out again that night—on Tuesday night Scott called—I saw him at the Police-court I did not hear him give evidence—he made a statement to me before I gave evidence at the Police-court—I am willing to say what the statement was.
Cross-examined. I know the other prisoners by sight merely—I have seen Upjohn with my son; they are very intimate together—I did not see my son that night; I merely heard his voice—I am positive he did not go out afterwards—I know Scott by sight—I never spoke to him, except on this occasion.
WILLIAM GODDARD . I am Goddard's brother—I live with my parents—I heard of his arrest the next morning—he did not come home the previous night—on the night before that he went to bed about 11.15—he slept in the same bed with me—he went to bed just before I did—I went to sleep, and as far as I know he did not leave the house that night—I got up in the morning about seven o'clock; he had gone to work then—I awoke about five minutes after he got up—he was dressing—it was about five minutes past seven—I have been for six years a carman in the employment of Bowley.
Cross-examined. On the day before the robbery he was out of work; on the day itself he was in a situation.
JAMES GODDARD . I am Goddard's brother, and a fitter's labourer, working at Down Street, Piccadilly—I have been there eight and a half years—I sleep in the room next to that occupied by William and Thomas—the only exit from their room is through mine—the night before my brother was arrested I saw him and William in bed at 11.30, when I got
home—I went; to bed just on one o'clock—I was sitting up reading in my bedroom—Thomas had not gone out of his bedroom during that time—I and my brother were called as witnesses at the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I have seen my brother with Upjohn, as he had been At work with him. (The COMMON SERJEANT intimated that it would be a dangerous thing to convict Upjohn and Goddard, the prosecutor, who had never seen them before the night of the occurrence, being the only witness Against them, and their families having being called for their defence. MR. BLACK WELL stated that he would not ask the JURY to convict them.
Witness for Husband.
JOSEPH MEATYARD . I live at 54, Brompton Road—at 12.15 p.m. on 29th March, I was in the Earl Gray with my wife; we had come from the theatre—I saw the prosecutor in the bar; he was playing at dominoes when I first went in, and he had a bit of a squabble with Holland—he left between 12.15 and 12.20; another officer's servant left with him—I knew them both—I saw no dog—the prosecutor was not drunk; he was excited; he might have had a little drink.
Cross-examined. I did not see Husband that night—I passed the Fulham Bridge Public-house (my door is about five doors beyond); there was no one outside—I have known the prisoner eight or nine years by eight as a neighbour.
Re-examined. He bears a respectable character in the neighbourhood.
Another witness deposed as to Husband's good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Six Month's Hard Labour.
WILLIAM WATTS . I am a porter, residing at 144, Janes Road, Finsbury Park, employed at Messrs. Tamplin's, in Gresham Street—I left the warehouse at six p.m. on 9th April (going to Maw, Son and Thompson, Aldersgate Street), having in my possession the watch produced, fastened to a chain—on arriving I found my chain hanging, and no watch attached thereto; I did not meet anyone on the road.
JOHN PERKINS . I am a servant at the Beehive Coffee-shop, 82, Commerical Street, E., and know the prisoner as a hawker of jewellery; I saw him in Pursell Street on 10th April, about eleven or twelve a.m.—he said, "Do you want a watch?"—I said, "No, Dutchy, I don't. How much do you want for it?"—he said, "A sovereign"—I said, "I haven't the money"—he said, "Take the watch and pay me when you can"—I said, "I have one watch; that's quite sufficient"—he said, "Show me your watch"—I showed it—he said, "Will you give me 10s. and this watch for it?"—I said, "Yes"—he gave me the watch produced; it was better than mine, and I gave him the half-sovereign and my watch—I took it to the pawnbroker's to pledge; they detained it and called a police-constable while I was there; I said how I got it, and went away.
Cross-examined. Three days after I bought the watch he brought mine to me, and asked me to buy it back for 7s. which he has never paid up—I have known him some time; he is a customer of our coffee-shop, and hawks cheap jewellery—he holds a pedler's license—I Bought a chain of him before—I don't know that he goes to Johnson and Dimond's sales in the City—he told me I could get 15s. for this watch at any pawnbroker's.
CHARLES HILL (Police Constable 86 H). On the morning of the 19th April I was called to Messrs. Jones, pawnbrokers—I saw the last witness there, and Goldring, the manager; the watch produced was handed to me—I saw the Pawnbrokers' Gazette, in which a watch of this sort was stated to have been stolen—I arrested the prisoner on the evening of the same day, about eight, in Commercial Street—I said; "Dutchy, I shall take you into custody"—he said, "What for?" and immediately threw himself to the ground—I took hold of his right arm (he held his left behind him), and pulled him up—a watch, not the stolen One, was lying on the pavement—on going to the station the prisoner said, "Give me back that watch; it fell out of my pocket"—he was detained at the station till Sergeant Wise came, who charged him with stealing and receiving the watch given to me by the pawnbroker—the prisoner said he bought it some three weeks ago at Johnson's in the City, and sold it to the boy at the coffee-shop.
Cross-examined. I do not think he was asked the name of the boy to whom he said he sold it—I believe Johnson and Dimond are a well-known firm who deal in jewellery—he had not a pedlar's license—he applied for one—I have not been able to find the owner of the watch on the pavement—I don't know why he should have been frightened when I arrested him—I spoke very kindly, because I know him and his wife—I didn't touch him till he threw himself on the ground, where he struggled—I was in uniform—he had a bag in his hand.
By the COURT. I examined the watch on the pavement; it is in the same condition now as then, the number being erased.
JOHN WISE (City Detective). On April 19th I saw the prisoner at Commercial Street Police-station—I told him I was a police officer from the City, and should take him to the Citron the charge of receiving the watch (produced) stolen on the 9th—he said, "I bought it three weeks ago at Johnson and Dimond's sales"—the Inspector then came and asked me questions respecting the watch—prisoner was then handed over to my custody—while being put into the cab he said, "I might have made a mistake about the three weeks, it may have been only a few days ago." I have not found any owner for the other watch.
Cross-examined. Hill was present when prisoner made his statement—he said, "I bought it at Johnson and Dimond's sales three weeks ago"—I did not take any note—when getting into the cab he did not say, "I sold in to a boy at the coffee-shop"—I did not hear him say that—if Hill says he did I cannot contradict it.
Re-examined. He may have said it without my hearing.
GUILTY —He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on December 12th 1892, of stealing and receiving 184 empty fruit baskets,— Fifteen Month's Hard Labour.
MR. BROMLEY Prosecuted:
GUILTY .—INSPECTOR HULL proved the prisoner to have been convicted of a similar act of indecency on the 10th November, 1890.
Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
Four Days' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT—Thursday and Friday, May 3rd and 4th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
434. GUISEPPE FARNARA (44), and FRANCIS POLTI (18), were indicted for having in their possession and control certain explosive substances, with intent to endanger life and property; other Counts varying the mode of charge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. FARELLEY Defended.
FARNARA being an Italian, and not understanding English, an inter preter was sworn, and when called on to plead to the indictment, HE PLEADED GUILTY , and exclaimed, "I wanted to kill the capitalists."Upon being asked if he quite understood the charge, he replied, "Yes; I plead guilty; I had the intention to blow up the capitalists, and all the middle classes."
POLTI pleaded NOT GUILTY.
ANGUS SCOTT LEWIS . I am a barrister, and am employed in the department of the Solicitors to the Treasury—I produce the consent, in writing, of the Attorney-General of the day, Sir Charles Russell, to the taking of these proceedings—it was signed by him in my presence.
JOHN ERNEST COHEN . I am the son of Mr. Cohen, who carries on the business of an engineer at 240, Blackfriars Road—on Friday, 30th of March last, I saw the prisoner Polti at our shop—he had with him a companion, who I identified at Bow Street as Farnara—Polti spoke—he asked whether he could have a piece of iron piping off the stack in our yard—I went with them to the heap of iron that was in the yard—one of them, I am not sure which, picked up a piece of iron piping—this (produced) is the piece, and this other piece they picked out afterwards; they put the first piece back again—this bent one was the first piece, and afterwards the smaller piece, the straight piece—while they were picking out the pieces they were talking together in a foreign language I did not understand—when they had picked out the straight piece Polti said he would pay half-a-crown deposit on the two pieces of piping, and on Monday he would fetch them away and pay the rest—they wanted me cut a piece off the larger piece, the bent piece—they pointed with their fingers to about eight or ten inches off the straight part of it—I said we cud not do that kind of work—Farnara handed half-a-crown to Polti, and Polti gave it to me, and I gave a receipt for it—Polti was the only one
that spoke to me; he did nod say what he wanted the pieces for—I did not see him the next time he called—the pieces remained in our possession—I saw Polti on a subsequent day at our premises.
Cross-examined. Farnara did not speak at all to me—I cannot tell which of them it was that indicated with the finger the eight or ten inches of the pipe.
THOMAS SMITH . I am manager to Mr. Cohen, of 240, Blackfriars Road—on Thursday, 5th April, I saw Polti at our shop—he said he called about a socket and a piece of pipe that he had bought and paid a deposit on—the socket is the bend—he did not wish to take them away, but to pay a further deposit of eighteen pence—he asked if we could cut the pipe and socket for him—I said, "No; we do no work of that kind"—I gave him the address of an engineer who worked for us, Mr. Norm, of Barron's Place, Waterloo Road—he then paid me eighteen pence and left; I entered that on the receipt—he called again on the following Monday, the 9th—he then said he could not get the pipe cut, it was too expensive, and he again asked me if I could not cut it for him—I told him "No," and said, "What do you want?"—he said, "A piece of pipe with the ends closed"—I said, "I suppose you want it to open?"—I then told him I could suggest something that would answer his purpose well, and I then made a rough sketch of what I suggested—I asked him what it was wanted for—he said it was not for himself, but for the other man, who was very poor—I then sent him down to the cellar to look for some steel sockets, and one of our men returned with him to the office, bringing a socket as a specimen—a socket is a thing with a screw or thread inside; it is a short piece of pipe screwed on the inside, joining two pieces of pipe together—this (produced) is an ordinary socket—I explained to him that by closing up the end of the socket it would form a cap, and two of those caps with a socket and a thread outside would answer his purpose—I imagined what his purpose was; I had an idea what it was for; I had a suspicion; I expected that he wanted it for a purpose of this kind, for a bomb—I suggested two caps—this is one cap; it becomes a cap when you close the end of it—this is the other cap; this is what I call the nipple—I showed him a sketch of the things,' not these articles; it was torn up; it was merely a casual sketch, as I should show to any customer., to see what it was—this is one cap with the end stopped—this nipple screws inside, and this other cap will go over that—the nipple connects them—nothing else was wanted but the two caps and the nipple—he asked me if I would get them for him—I said I would, and they would cost two shillings or three shillings more than the four shillings I already had—when I showed him the sketch and the things he said that it would do very nicely; just the thing he wanted—he said he would call again, and he came on the following Wednesday evening, that would be the 11th, about a quarter to eight—that was after the place wan closed—we closed at seven—I opened the door to him; I live on the premises—he asked if I had got these fittings for him—I said, "No, are you quite sure that is what you want?"—he said, "Yes, just the thing"—he then said he would like it five inches across, meaning the diameter—I said, "That is very large; would not four or four and a half do?"—he said he wanted it five—I said that would cost him more money, and I should think four and a half would be quite
big enough—he said he would call again the next day—the next day, Thursday, I gave information to the police at Stones End Police-station—on my way to the Police-station I purchased the nipple, and one of the caps now produced—that same day Inspector Quinn and another officer, Detective Riley, came to our premises, and remained there—I did not see the prisoner that day; I learnt that he called while I was out—I next saw him on the following Friday, the 13th, about half-past five or six—Inspector Quinn was then on the premises—I showed the prisoner the cap and the nipple which I had purchased—he said he was sorry I had not got the other cap, but that was just the thing he wanted—he paid another shilling—he asked if he could have the thing complete on Sunday—I said, "No"; I did not do business on Sunday, but he could have it any time on Saturday—he said it would be very inconvenient to call on Saturday, and after a little pressing I told him he could have it on Sunday, between seven and eight—as he was leaving I asked him his name, as I had not got it—he then gave me this card—on it is "Francis Polti, Representative of the Anglo-Italian Agency, 23, Warner Street, Farringdon Road, E. C."—I gave it to the police—at that interview, as we were talking, he said, "Miller is making me one"—Miller is an engineer of Lancaster Street, Borough Road—I was surprised, and said, "How is that?" he said "He was so long"—I said, "What is it like?" he said, "Yours is better and stronger"—he called next day, Saturday the 14th, between five and six—the shop was then closed, and the police were watching outside—my daughter opened the door to him—I had given her instructions—after she Had spoken to him he went away—I left the premises for a short time to see that the police were there, and when I came back I found the prisoner in the shop—t said I was surprised to see him, as he was coming on Sunday—he said as he was in the neighbourhood he thought it would do to see if we had got it ready—I took him to the back of the shop, and showed him the thing together, complete, the two caps fitted on the nipple—he examined it, and was very pleased with it—he said it was just the thing—he unscrewed it, and in doing so he said it went rather hard, he wanted it to go easy—I cleaned it, and oiled it, to make it go easy—he then paid me another half-crown, and I gave him this receipt for the whole of the money, 7s. 6d. "April 14th, Polti, bought of J. Cohen, machinery dealer, 240, Blackfriars Road, three three-and-a-half steam fittings, 7s. 6d. settled by cash, Cohen and Co., by T. Smith"—I wrapped them up in paper, and he took them away—as we were passing by the cellar door he asked me if I would let him have one of these old fittings—I took him out this one, and I permitted him to have it without any extra payment—I call it a socket—as he was going I asked him what kind of business he was connected with—he said he travelled on commission all over London, and called only on Frenchmen and Italians—I, said if any of his friends he called on wanted any steam power I would allow him a commission for any orders he could procure for me—I said, "What about your friend? What is he doing?"—he said that he travelled on the Continent, and that he might be in France or Italy any day that week—he asked fox a shilling commission on this one—I said if he wanted any more I would sell him at a shilling less—he said he might want five or six more, and might, see me again about the following Thursday—that was all the conversation
—from my experience in the trade there is no lawful purpose that I know of for which such a thing as this could be used—I don't know it as being used in trade for any purpose—I suspected from the first, and I was acting throughout on that suspicion, and under the direction of the police.
By the COURT. The name "bomb" was not mentioned by Polti at all in any shape or way—all my suspicion arose from what I have stated—he did not give me any information as to how he proposed to use it—when I asked him that he said, "It is not for myself; it is for the other man."
Cross-examined. I did not ask Polti who the other man was—only one man came with him on the first occasion—it was on the Monday evening I first had suspicion—I don't think that "suspicion" is rather a weak word to use under the circumstances—when I asked whether he would require any more objects of this kind, I then believed it was for a bomb—as soon as I formed a suspicion I communicated with the police—he had no opportunity of obtaining the things from any of my assistants without the police being aware of it; it was impossible because I had not got them for him—I did not say anything to the persons in the shop about the possibility of his calling for these thing—I spoke to my wife about it on the Wednesday evening—I said nothing to the prisoner about approving of the manufacture of articles of this kind—I did not at any time intend to convey to the prisoner that I knew what these things were for—I did not give him any ground for my suspicion; I kept him in the dark.
ALBERT BROCK . I am foreman to Mr. Cohen—on 30th March I was in the office and saw the prisoner there—I saw him pay a half-crown to Mr. Cohen; he got it from the other prisoner—I afterwards saw the prisoner in conversation with Mr. Smith, the manager, and I heard him arrange to call for something on a Sunday.
Cross-examined. I had no idea what the thing was that he was to call for—I formed no idea of its purpose—I saw it, but did not form any idea of its purpose, until it was all completed.
Re-examined. I suspected then, of course, what it was for; that it was for a bomb.
ROBERT MILLER . I am an engineer, carrying on business at 44, Lancaster Street, Borough Road-about 6.30 p.m. on Monday, 9th April, I saw the prisoner at my place of business—he said he wanted a piece of pipe with the ends stopped up with two plates, and a bolt passing through it—the pipe was to be about six to, eight inches—I asked who sent him to me—he said, "Mr. Cohen, Blackfriars Road, sent me to you. I have bought a piece of pipe, but he cannot do the fitting"—I said, "Oh, yes; come in"—he came into the office first, and explained that he had bought a piece of pipe of Cohen, and he wanted a piece cut out of it, and these plates put on, but it must; not be expensive—I took him round to the shop—I picked up a piece of old pipe about three inches diameter from the scrap box, and also an old socket—the-pipe had a screw at one end, and I screwed, the socket on to the screw part of the pipe—I said, "If I stop these ends up, is that what you want?"—he said "That is just what I want, How much will it be?"—I said, "Five shillings"—he said "Very well" then went together back to the office—I said, "You had a better let me have 2s. or 3s.
deposit"—he gave me 3s., and I gave him this receipt, "Received of Mr. Carnot 3s., on account of work. Robert Miller, April 9th, 1894"—when I was writing it I said, "Mr.—," waiting for the name, and he gave me the name of Carnot—immediately after I wrote the name I asked him his address, and he said, "2, Garnault Place, Clerken-well"—I wrote down the name and address—he left then, making no arrangement as to when he would call again—I executed the order he had given me, and made this machine by stopping up the two ends as I had suggested—I simply welded up the end of the socket and the end of the pipe—the prisoner never called for it—I kept it till I handed it over to Maguire on the following Monday—from my knowledge of the trade I know of no lawful purpose for which such a machine could be required.
Cross-examined. I had formed no opinion as to the purpose for which it was required—I did not suppose it to be a bomb until after the police called.
HERBERT ALFRED PRETLOCK . I am an assistant at Mr. Taylor's Drug Company, 66 and 67, High Holborn—on Tuesday, 10th April, the prisoner came there, and asked the price of sulphuric acid—I quoted it at sixpence a pound—he gave an order for two pounds, and I gave him that quantity in a bottle—he paid me a shilling, and twopence for the bottle, which would hold about a pint—it was full—the prisoner took it away—on 17th April Quinn showed me a bottle which I was able to identify as that which I had sold to the prisoner.
FRANCESCO RIVA . I live at 4, Phoenix Place, Clerkenwell—up to 16th April I was in business at 33, Warner Street, Clerkenwell, as a dealer in Italian provisions—the prisoner was in my employment as traveller and assistant from the middle of February—he slept on the premises, in the second floor front room—about two weeks after he came into the employment he brought this trunk there on a barrow—the trunk was put in the parlour on the ground floor, and afterwards in my room on the first floor—he asked me to let him put it there, because, he said, there were several other lodgers, and it was too heavy to take up on the second floor—he showed me when he brought it everything that was in it—he kept the key of it—he could go to it while he was in my house—on the Saturday, 14th April, the day of his arrest, he went out about five p.m.—before he went out he asked me for some money, saying he wanted to pay his contribution to the Italian Operative Society—I gave him 5s.—on the same day I was present when the police came to my premises and examined the trunk, and I saw them find in it the bottle of acid and the two packets of powder—those things were not in the trunk when he showed me the contents on bringing it in—I also saw them find in the trunk this manuscript book—I had previously seen that book in the prisoner's possession—I know his writing—to the best of my belief the whole of the writing in the book is his—this document (the recipe for making the powder) appears to me to be in the same writing.
Cross-examined. I have seen him writing very often—I knew the prisoner about ten months before he entered my employment—Farnara used to come into the shop nearly every morning to buy the Republican newspaper Secolo, which is published in Milan—I never saw the prisoner writing in this manuscript book—I saw him copying newspapers and
books—he used to copy what he fancied; he was very fond of copying—it did not matter much what he copied—I saw him copying a novel, "La Data Fatale," which belonged to another lodger who Lived in the same room as the prisoner—the prisoner copied pretty much anything that took his fancy—before he started the Anarchy, the last few weeks, he had a box of water-colours, and he always was painting English and Italian flags across, and he used to write on the top where the English flag was "God Save the Queen," and on the bottom "God bless the King of Italy"—I have not seen, any letters that he wrote—he is very illiterate; he was never at any school—he learnt something in London—from my knowledge of his amount of literary skill I do not think lie could have written this manuscript book—he could copy, but not compose it—a portion of it is copied from "La Data Fatale"—there is a date to that book "16," which he changed to "19"; it is very much like it—I heard him speak of the Anarchists once or twice, once the last week before he was arrested—that was after he had the Anarchist newspaper, Il Grado dela Oppressi (The cry of the oppressed), the last week, or a week or two before his arrest—I did not see any newspaper at the Police-court—this (produced) is the one I saw him with; he had two, and this is the one he had afterwards—I remember the engraving—the other was of a red colour, but the same title I saw in the shop—there was no picture on the red one.
Re-examined. I saw the prisoner with this paper in his hand; that was after he had the red paper, after Easter—I did not read it when he showed it to me, I only looked at the engraving; I did not see the contents—I think he had not the education to compose, but, only sufficient education to copy from other documents—I see in this manuscript book "The opinion of a young man of eighteen years of age"—I think the prisoner is nearly nineteen now—I see the same expression further on—I also find here in Italian, "Dear companions, I am young, but from what I know we must take example from the young, and not from the old such examples as Pallas, Salvador, Vaillant, Emile Henri, etc., so that it may go a little better. Don't let the vale bourgeoisie live any longer. This young man was born on the shores of the Lake of Como, on 2nd December, 1875, son of one of the most respected families residing in the Commune of Vernana, in the District of Gravedonna, in the Province of Como"—the prisoner comes from the neighbourhood of Como—"on the 16th May he came to London because his parents were so ignorant, and attached to religion, so he had to leave his native country. He had always been a young man of good conduct, capable of serving generally in alt trades, professions; callings. On 16th March, 1893, he was engaged to one of the most beautiful young ladies in London, whose name was Maria Anna Elizabeth Margaret Leach"—he married Miss Leach last year—"and on 30th October in the same year she gave birth to two boys, who died, and she is still ill"—that was the fact—"She is still ill this day, March 31s. 1894 Thus, dear friends, I tell you, and all of you to act according to your ideas, and all of us, women and men, must join in action in order to revenge all, and obtain liberty"—that is fairly correctly translated—I see further on, "Down with the bourgeoisie, down with time proletarians. Vaillant is dead, but F. A. P. is learning to revenge him. Already one has commenced to revenge him; he died for liberty; so much for Paris.
No, we will go to London and begin there"—I don't know what "F. A. P." means; the prisoner's initials are "F. J. P.," Francesco Johanni Polti—the initials on the prisoner's box are "F. A. P"—I see a little further on in the book: "My dear companions, my heart throbs at hearing that our companion was arrested the other day by that vile infamous thief Melville. What we have to do is to threaten him with action, that villain who has made so many arrests. The fault is not entirely hid own; it is also that of the great villains of the Republic. Dear companions, recently I sent a letter to the villain Melville, informing him that I would attempt his life during the month of April for having arrested one of our companions, Meunier; and I also sent a letter to the Queen at Florence to let her know how poor working men were treated in this country; that they were treated like slaves, and not like working men. Melville has also become rich through the many spies, and now he acts as a proletarian and a go-between for the bourgeoisie. The time for action and revenge has now arrived, also for liberty"—that letter, commencing "Dear companions," is signed "Yours, F. A. P."—before that signature is: "I want to do something to revenge myself, and then I will gladly die. I cannot live any longer to see this infamous bourgeoisie. I have seen enough of them in these eighteen years, and now I am tired to live under the proletarians. I will die to avenge myself, and leave my dear companions to avenge me with the most terrible bombs and daggers against these villains and traitors against the poor working men"—after that there is this: "My dear parents, it must grieve you as well to hear of my end. I am at last tired of living to see so many barbarities committed by the bourgeoisie. I am tired to race all these iniquities, and now I finally will avenge myself I must die in the flower of my youth, it is true, but I will avenge myself the cause of my death. All my companions will avenge me by deeds, and all of you, my dear parents and relations, who witness how much I have suffered for the cause, I hope you will lend a helping hand to assist my dear companions: that is to say, that you will give your bodies to Anarchy, and threaten the bourgeoisie, which was the cause of my death. When you receive this book I shall be dead, but I shall leave my companions behind to avenge me, and their vengeance will be terrible. For this reason I must leave all of you who are so dear to me, and whom I and my wife desired so much to see before dying, and yet I must die without even seeing my dear mother, without seeing my dear brothers, whom I loved so much, and not even my dear sisters, nephews, and brothers and sisters-in-law. I die, but I leave you to avenge me. I must really conclude with last kisses to all my dear relations, and the last cry, 'Down with the bourgeoisie, long live Anarchy.' I am always your faithful son, F. A. P., London, 16th May, 1894. The date 'the sixteenth' has always been fatal to me. I left my native country on the 16th May, 1889. I became engaged to my wife on the 16th March, 1893. I married on the 16th July, 1893, and I took my wife to the infirmary on the 16th. December, 1893. I was taken ill on the 16th April, 1890, and I have calculated to die on the 16th May, the same day on which I left my native country."
Crossexamined. The prisoner has a mother only—that last letter can not have been intended to be addressed to his parents, seeing that he
has only one—what is said in the book about the 16th is very like the novel, "La Data Fatale."
CESARI PIAZZI . I am an Italian from the district of Lake Como—I am a waiter at 335, Strand—I have known the prisoner over three years in London—he comes from the same district, Lake Como—in Easter week this year I went to 33, Warner Street, and saw the prisoner in his room—he showed me a red newspaper; I do not know what it was called—I read a little of it; the prisoner did not call my attention to it; it was printed in Italian, and published in New York, and it said about Valliant's execution in Paris—I did not read any more—the prisoner was talking about Anarchy—he showed me two big sheets of paper, and read them to me—he said he wrote it; it was just the same as I had read in the newspaper—he seemed to have copied it out of the newspaper; it was about the death of Vaillant—he told me nothing about himself; I took no notice of what he said—he said the Anarchists were very near done on the Continent, and they would come and start in London very soon—he did not say with what they would start in London, I am sure; I did not ask him—he did not describe himself to me in any way at that time—I have given you the best of my memory on that point; I have said so far as I know all that was said—I was examined at Bow Street on 27th April, last week—this is my signature to the deposition—it was read out in the Court before I signed it, and I heard it—the prisoner did not say with what they would start in London—I never mud to the contrary; if I did, that was my thought. (An interpreter was sworn to translate the questions put to, and the answers of, the witness)—I did say at Bow Street that the prisoner told me they were going to Start in London soon with bombs, but it was really not the prisoner who told me so; I simply thought so, by the way they were acting—I also said at Bow Street that the prisoner had told me he was an Anarchist; he did not tell me that—I have not been threatened by anybody in this case since I gave evidence—I only complained to Inspector Quinn in a kind of joke, as I read so many of these cases—I told him I had been threatened, only in a joke—that was after I gave evidence at the Police-court—I don't remember that I said the Italians had threatened me.
Cross-examined. I am nineteen—I do not remember the name of the red newspaper—there was an article in it about Vaillant—what I read in it about Vaillant was the same as this which appears in the prisoner's book—I don't remember anything about South Carolina. (This passage from the book was read: "Now we will go to London and begin there, Within the last few days I received letters from South Carolina, which' state that the Government was obliged to run away on account of its liquor trade policy, and that twenty-one policemen were killed")—I don't know whether the prisoner told me he was an Anarchist as a joke or seriously—I formed no judgment of whether he was an Anarchist. (MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS read the following passage from the book: "At one time Great Britain could be called the most free country, but now it has commenced persecutions and seizures—and why I On account of France! Bull tell you, that all their persecutions and seizures will lead to their discomfiture Down with the bourgeois! down with the proletarians! Vaillant is dead but F. A. P. is learning to revenge him. He left a society to revenge
im. Already one has commenced to revenge him. He died for liberty. So much for Paris. Now we will go to London, and begin there.")
RICHARD LEACH . I am a bricklayer—the prisoner married my daughter on 16th July last; this is the marriage certificate—her full name was Maria Anna Elizabeth Margaret Leach—about six months ago she was taken ill, and went to the Highgate Infirmary in December last—after that the prisoner came to stay at my lodgings for several nights—he brought two boxes with him; this (the box identified by Riva) was one of them—he took that away from my house some weeks ago.
Cross-examined. The prisoner slept with me for several nights at my address, 55, Gray Street, Blackfriars Road; occasionally that was his address—his letters were only addressed there occasionally, but if they were addressed there they would reach him—I was given to understand that my daughter bought the trunk; I don't know where it was got—I could not tell you if any letters were on it before it was purchased—I never heard the prisoner speak of Anarchy, or say he was an Anarchist, or speak in a disordered way—no suspicion of the kind ever entered my mind.
JOHN SWEENEY (Police Sergeant, Scotland Yard). About 5.30 p.m. on 14th April I was outside and near Mr. Cohen's shop, 240, Blackfriars Road, in consequence of instructions I received—about 5.30 I saw the prisoner, who rang the bell there—the door was opened by a woman—he left, and returned in about ten minutes and rang the bell a second time and the door was opened, and he entered, and remained about ten minutes inside, and then came out, carrying a brown paper parcel partially hidden under his coat—in company with Maguire and other officers, I followed him, and saw him get on to an omnibus in the Blackfriars Road; he rode to Farringdon Road, I and three other officers getting on to the omnibus at the same time as he did—we went on to the Farringdon Road, and I saw him alight from the omnibus there, and we all alighted—he walked in the direction of Ray Street; I was following with the other officers—in Ray Street he looked back two or three times; we were close by him, within a few yards—looking very suspiciously, he stopped suddenly, looked into a window and took the brown paper parcel from under his coat—then he turned his back to the window, holding the parcel between his hands as if to throw it away—I and Maguire caught hold of him, and I said, "We are police officers; I want to know what you have in that parcel"—he said, "It is iron; it is a boiler; I will show you where I bought it. I am honest, I am not a thief"—I said, "I am not satisfied with your explanation; you will have to come with me to the station"—I called a cab, and got in with the other officers, and took the prisoner to New Scotland Yard—on our way in the cab the prisoner said, "This is not for myself, although I paid the money for it. It is for a friend abroad. I met a man in the street who went with me when I ordered it at Mr. Cohen's shop in Blackfriars Road. He was an Italian, and could speak French, but no English. I don't know his name, nor where be lives"—at Scotland Yard the brown paper parcel which the prisoner had been carrying was examined, and found to contain the larger of these two bombs. (This was the one identified by MR. SMITH)—I searched the prisoner, and on him found four keys, which I gave to Inspector Quinn, and a number of
documents, amongst them this recipe in Italian, and this memorandum book—in that book I found this entry: "9th April, 1894, Carnot, 3s., Miller" and underneath, "Cohen, 7s. 6d, paid 5s."—upon the other side is an entry in Italian—I also found these two receipts on him from Cohen and Miller for 7s. 6d. and 3s.—when I found the 3s. receipt the prisoner said, "That refers to another one that I ordered at Mr. Norm's, near Waterloo Road; it is not yet finished. I gave the name of Carnot when I ordered it; Carnot is the man who went with me to order this one at Mr. Cohen's shop. I first met him in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, about three months ago. I was going to send this to my brother in the North of Italy as a present; he sends me presents. I reside at 55, Gray Street, Waterloo Road, and if you go there you won't find anything but that I am respectable"—he indicated it wm this boiler he was going to send to his brother as a present—when I opened the parcel at the station I found this little piece of socket in it—the prisoner said, "Mr. Cohen's foreman threw that in as if to make weight"—the prisoner was taken to King's Cross Road Police-station, and afterwards to Bow Street—I went to Warner Street, and searched this box, pointed out by Mr. Riva, and found in it a two pound bottle of sulphuric acid, a packet of white powder, and a packet of yellow powder, this black manuscript book, and this printed report on Alfred Nobel's dynamite—it then contained this pencil sketch, which the bomb somewhat resembles, and the pencil memoranda at the side of the sketch—those things were brought to Bow Street—the prisoner was charged there with having certain explosives in his possession, and under his control—when the charge was read to him he said, "I wish to say this does not belong to me"—(Referring to the larger of the two machines)—"I was sent for it by Emile Carnot. The chlorate and all the other things were mixed by him, and he sent me for the sulphuric acid. I paid one shilling for it. All that I wish to say is that I knew him three weeks, and that he came from Paris a year ago."
Cross-examined. I never lost sight of the prisoner from the time he left 240, Blackfriars Road until I arrested him—he could not very well have made away with this object during that time—he had it partially hidden under his coat—I could not see exactly how he held it when he was on the omnibus; I was two or three seats behind him—he gave the address 55, Gray Street, Waterloo Road, the address of his father-in-law.
JOHN MAGUIRE (Police Sergeant New Scotland Yard). I was with Sweeney when the prisoner was arrested on 14th April—I got on to the omnibus on which the prisoner got, and sat on the seat immediately behind him—crossing over Blackfriars Bridge he put the brown paper parcel he was carrying on his knees and opened the brown paper; inside was a piece of newspaper, which he took out and threw over into the roadway—he opened the machine partly, and worked it round and round in that way; then he closed up the parcel again—I afterwards seized him in Ray Street almost at the same moment as Sweeney—after the prisoner was at New Scotland Yard, he said, "I was going to send it by parcels post to my brother; he lives a long way from the town, where it is difficult to have these things made"—I was with Riley, Walsh and Sweeney outside 240, Blackfriars Road that afternoon when the prisoner went in—about that time I saw Farnara exactly opposite 240, on the side I was on; he
went past, going from the Elephant towards Blackfriars Bridge—he passed within a yard of me.
Cross-examined. I was on the garden seat on the omnibus immediately behind the prisoner; he was alone on the seat he was on—he attempted to conceal the parcel when he was carrying it—he did not try to conceal it on the omnibus, when he had it on his knees.
JOHN CANN (Inspector E). I was in charge of Bow Street Policestation on the night of 15th April—in consequence of a communication from the goaler, I went to the cell where the prisoner was confined—I said, "Do you want to see me?"—he said, "Yes, I want to make a statement; I am innocent of this charge"—I said, "I am not the inspector in charge of the case"—he said, "That does not matter, I will make my statement in writing"—he then made a statement in English, which is in writing, and which he signed in my presence—after he had written it, he said, "Do not tell Piedmonte what I have done, or he will kill me"—I said, "All right." (The statement was read as follows: "I now give this information concerning this machine. About three weeks ago I went down to Mr. Cohen's, in Blackfriars Road, as interpreter to M. Carnot, Emile, better known as Piedmonte, now doing some work at No. 2, Berry Street, Blackfriars, lodging at Back Hill, Clerkenwell, to order a machine for him, and when we came back he sent to get a bottle of sulphuric acid, and he gave me a packet of powder to take care of for him till he wanted it back, and then sent me down to Mr. Miller, to order another one for him, and he gave me 3s. to deposit for him; and on Saturday, 14th April, he sent me down to get the machine, and on my way back to him I met the police officers in plain clothes, and they arrested me on suspicion of being an Anarchist. What I wish to say is I am not an Anarchist. I hate them, because they are too dangerous for me. The time to find him at his lodgings is about ten or 10.30 at night, and at his work between ten a.m. and eight p.m.; and if you wish to go there you will have to ask for Piedmonte, because he is not known by his name he goes by. The lodging at Back Hill is about five doors from Clerkenwell Road, next door to a barber's shop, and the one in Blackfriars is on the second turning going down by Blackfriars Bridge.—I am, F. POLTI.")
PATRICK QUINN (Inspector Scotland Yard). I saw the prisoner at Cohen's premises on Friday, 13th April, in conversation with Mr. Smith—I was on the premises—I followed him from there to 33, Warner Street, with the other officers; that was how we ascertained his address—next day I was at Scotland Yard when he was brought in in custody—I had a conversation with him; Sweeney made a note of it and has given it in evidence; I asked him to explain his possession of this iron shell—I found upon him this document, which purports to be a recipe for making porridge, polenta—I said, "Can you explain what is written on this paper?"—he said, "It is for making polenta, or pudding"—I afterwards went to 33, Warner Street, and opened the box, and found in it the two packets of powder, and the bottle of acid, which I subsequently handed to Dr. Dupre—I showed the bottle of acid to Pretlock—on that night, at King's Cross Road Police-station, I said to the prisoner, "Polti, Mr. Riva was pointed out a trunk at his house, which he says belongs to you, and in that trunk I have found this
bottle of acid, and these two packets of powder"—he said, "Yes, Mr. Riva does not know anything of the bottle or chlorates"—on the night of 15th April, in consequence of a communication, I went to Bow Street, and saw the written statement which the prisoner had made to Cann—I said to the prisoner, "I understand, Polti, you want to see me about this statement you have made?"—he said, "Yes; I want you to find Carnot; he lives at the first house pant the barber's shop in Back Hill, from Clerken-well Row"—he afterwards corrected that, and said "the second house past the barber's shop"—I made inquiries to try and find the other man at that place; I could not succeed; but on 22nd April, I traced Farnara, and arrested him at 1.30 a.m.—I found on him this card. (This was Polti's card, similar to the one handed to Mr. Smith)—I also found on him this newspaper.
(MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS ruled that the card and newpaper were not evidence against the prisoner, and could not be put in.)
Cross-examined. I found no trace of Farnara at the address near the barber's shop—the result of my inquiries was that he had never been there.
JOSEPH STEINER . I am an interpreter, familiar with the Italian and English languages—I and M. Albert made this translation from Italian into English of the contents of the black manuscript book—it is correct to the best of my skill and knowledge—I have also had before me the newspaper, n Grado dela Oppressi—I have translated this recipe, found on Polti on his arrest—the last words are, "For the polenta"—as well as I can make out it runs, "To make the B take" (giving the names and quantities of the ingredients)" and then the box for putting them all in, together with the bullets of lead. Then take a bottle empty, of our make, and in order to draw it out see it is well turned. Fill and close it up, then carry it in the pocket. When one wants to throw it away, take up the empty and make it full, and now close it, and then throw it away and escape"—that is apparently written in the dialect of Como, the district between Como and Milan—I have compared the writing beside the pencil sketch with that in the manuscript and that of the recipe—so far as I can make out they are the same—there are the same initial letters.
Cross-examined. Practically I made the translation; I am responsible for it; I did not actually write it—the grammar and spelling in the manuscript book were decidedly defective—I should say it is written by a man more or less illiterate—in the translation of the recipe I have queried "our," in "of our make"—the word in the original was nost, which can only be a shortening of nostro, which would mean our; nost would be the dialect.
AUGUSTE DUPRE . I am a professor of chemistry, and chemical advise, to the Explosives department of the Home Office—on 19th April I received from Inspector Quinn a bottle labelled "sulphuric acid"—I examined it, and found it contained a little over two pounds of concentrated sulphuric acid—at the same time I received from Quinn a packet containing about two ounces of a white powder, which I discovered on examination to be chlorate of potassium, and a picket of yellow powder, which I examined, and as to the ingredients of which I formed a conclusion; chlorate of potassium was one of its ingredients—I examined
the recipe for polenta—the contents of the yellow powder corresponded with the ingredients upon the recipe both as to description and quantity as closely as I should have expected an unskilled person to do it—it had evidently been mixed by a person unskilled in mixing—the yellow powder is in very powerful explosive, of considerably greater power than gunpowder—it could be ignited by means of the sulphuric acid from this bottle—it is very sensitive to explosion by percussion and friction—there were 14 1-5th ounces of the yellow powder—when loose it occupied a space of eighteen ounces—the smaller of these machines would have held it with a little compression; the larger one would have held it easily—I don't think that so much compression would be dangerous; it could be done with the hand—the powder, placed in either of those machines, would have formed a very powerful bomb, which would be particularly dangerous to persons about; it would not do much destruction to buildings—it would be injurious to property under certain conditions; it would depend on the kind of property and the kind of building—the powder is so sensitive to friction that it would be dangerous to any person screwing the machine together if it did not work smoothly, and therefore it was necessary for the machine to move easily—there would be danger to the person using it—in my experience I know of no lawful purpose for which these machines and the powder could be used.
Cross-examined. Concentrated sulphuric acid is easily to be got—it is sold in druggists' shops; I don't think that ordinary chemists would sell it—I do not think that the manner in which the powder was mixed by an unskilful person would make it more dangerous to the person attempting to use it; on the contrary, I think it would perhaps make it rather safer—undoubtedly it had been mixed by an unskilful person—this sulphuric acid bottle would not go inside the machine; it was never intended to go inside—the bottle should have a glass stopper, but this cork would he put in by the druggist—the cork would be destroyed in a certain length of time; it has been already partially destroyed—if this machine with the powder in it were exploded in a picture gallery it might do an immense amount of damage; if it were put against a small building it might blow it down—if it were put against a big building it might do no harm.
COLONEL VIVIAN DEARING MAJENDIE . I am Chief Inspector of Explosives to the Government—I have heard the evidence given by Dr. Dupre, and, speaking generally, I agree with the evidence he has given—the yellow powder spoken of is an explosive of a highly dangerous character, and is highly sensitive to percussion and friction, and might be exploded by the application of sulphuric acid—I have examined the machines; either of them would contain the quantity of yellow powder found—there is more than one way in which the bomb with the powder inside it might be exploded—such an explosion would be most disastrous to human beings if a number were in the neighbourhood; as regards property, it would, as Dr. Dupre explained, have been conditional upon the character of the property and the position the bomb occupied with regard to it—the weight of the larger bomb, empty, is rather over 10 lbs.—I have seen the polenta recipe—many infernal machines have been fitted with bullets of lead—it is within my experience that bottles of a special make are
sometimes placed inside these infernal machines, and such bottles are of special construction; in fact, it is almost indispensable for that mode of ignition that they should be of a special construction—it is not an authorised operation in this country—my attention has been called to a pencil sketch in the printed report on dynamite—the sketch, with the description at the side, is a very fair representation of the large bomb, incomplete, but fair so far as it goes; it does not go into details—at the side of the sketch are some details of certain dimensions in English, and they correspond on the whole, as far as I can understand them, very accurately with the dimensions of the larger bomb.
Cross-examined. So far as I know, there was no bottle suitable for placing in the bomb among the articles which have been discovered and submitted to me—I have not seen one—there is no means of producing an explosion, unless a bottle is provided.
SEBERTHAM MALONE , restaurant-keeper, 19, Finsbury Pavement, and THOMAS DICKENS, 102, Crawford Street, Marylebone, deposed to the good character of Polti, for honesty and respectability since he came to this country in July last.
GUILTY .—Sentence on
FARNARA— Twenty Years' Penal Servitude. On
POLTI— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
The COURT highly commended the conduct of the witness Thomas Smith, and also that of Inspector Melville, Sergeant Quinn, and Constables Sweeney, Maguire, and Cann. The GRAND JURY had also made a similar commendation.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, May 2nd and 3rd, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
HARRIS— Six Months' Hard Labour.
BOWMAN received a good 'character', and a witness engaged to employ him.— Discharged on recognizances.
437. SARAH BURTLES and CATHERINE FIELDING , stealing two umbrellas, the property of the Civil Service Co-operative Association; Burtles having been convicted at Clerkenwell on May 23rd, 1893, and Fielder on May 9th, 1892. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] BURTLES**— Ten Months' Hard Labour. FIELDING**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
prisoner—he said that I had told tales about him—I said I had not—two or three chaps were present—I cannot say whether I struck him or not; if I did it was with my hand; I never carry a knife—he struck me with a knife, and I went to the hospital and had the wound dressed—he was not taken in custody till four or five days afterwards, as my face seemed to get worse, and I thought I might get into trouble with the other chaps if I gave him in charge—I was very drunk—I may have struck him first—Jeremiah Griffin was there—I had pushed the prisoner off a seat at the theatre on Friday night—I did not knock him down and kick him before he touched me, though Griffin says that I did—I might have hit him in the face and knocked him down—he did not say, "I am only a boy and you are a man, I cannot fight you with my hands"—as soon as I struck him he got up and stabbed me—I did knock him down, but I never drew a knife.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I may have struck you, but I never kicked you—I did not give you in custody before because I was afraid—I did not tell your mother when you were remanded that I was not coming up against you, but I did not come up because they asked me to keep away.
WILLIAM BLACK JONES . I am late house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—on March 11th I examined Cannon—he had an incised wound on his cheek in a very dangerous situation; if it had been half an inch lower down it would have been exceedingly dangerous—it might have been done by a knife—he got well in a few days.
GILBERT SMALL (Detective G). On March 16th, about 9.30, I went to the prisoner's house and found him in bed—I said I should take him for stabbing a man—he said, "I don't know about stabbing if I had not done it he would have done it to me."
WALTER SELBY (Detective Officer). I took the prisoner to the station—he said, "On Sunday morning me and Cannon had a row; he struck me on the face and knocked me down, and I got up; he had got his chiv out, if I had not done it to him, he would have done it to me"—at the station he said, "I borrowed the knife of a man, and after I had done it, I gave it back to him."
JEREMIAH GRIFFIN (Called for the prisoner at the Police court). I am a news vendor—between twelve and 12.30 I washy a public-house, and the prisoner and prosecutor had a quarrel—they had had a row two nights before at the theatre—I was there—Cannon pushed the prisoner off a seat—coming up Old Street, Cannon knocked him down and kicked him twice—the prisoner said, "You are a skilled man to me; come and fight me," and they both drew their knives—I saw them go together, but I did not nee the blow struck—I am certain Cannon had a knife in his hand.
Prisoner's defence. He should not have struck me first; I tried to punch him, but what was the good of my trying to fight a man like that?.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.
He then PLEADED GUILTY**to a conviction of felony at Woolwich on 21st November, 1892.— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ABRAM Prosecuted.
duty in Hendon Lane, Finchley, and heard a gate shut seventy of eighty yards off; shortly afterwards I saw the prisoner about half a dozen yards rom the gate running towards me—I stopped him, and said, "What's up?"—he said, "I am going for the doctor; don't stop me; let me go for the doctor"—I said, "That tale won't do for me"—he put his hand inside his coat—I seized his wrist; he struggled violently, but I got him to the station—he said, "You can only charge me on suspicion; you should have waited till I had done something"—I saw him searched; eight keys, one a skeleton, and two knives were found on him; one is a butcher's pig-killing knife—I found this jemmy up his back, and this lantern and candle in his pocket, and three yards of wire, which is used to put across a lawn or a gate to throw anyone down if they are pursuing; also some silent matches, a bradawl, some gingerbread, and a fig, which are used to put on a window when the glass is broken to deaden the sound—the station sergeant had got the pointed knife, and the prisoner pointed to me and said, "He ought to have had that; I was unable to get any work; what was I to do?"—on the same morning I went to Mr. Berkeley's house, which was, as far as I can guess, where I heard the gate abut—I found the front parlour window open, and marks on the window-ledge, as if some person had been standing there, and marks at the catch where it had been forced back, and marks on the window where the jemmy had been used, and paint on the jemmy—the window had been raised seven inches—there were foot-marks on a flower bed, which I compared with the prisoner's boots by making another mark by the side, and they corresponded—there were some marks on this knife, which were very bright at the time; it had apparently been used to force the catch back.
Cross-examined. The window was raised about seven inches—I do not believe anybody could get through, but they could get a hand in, and there were finger-marks inside.
ALBERT JANAWAY (534 S). About 12.30 on the night of March 20th I was on duty in Ballas Lane and saw the prisoner walking in the direction of Hendon Lane—I met him in custody of a sergeant at three a.m., and assisted in taking him to the station—I saw him searched, and when the knife was produced he said, "He ought to have had that," pointing to the sergeant. "What was I to do?—I could get no work"—Ballas Road is about half a mile from Hendon.
MAURICE HENRY BERKELEY . I am an underwriter, and live at Finchley—on Monday night, March 19th, I returned home about eleven o'clock, and sat up some time before going to bed—next morning I noticed the drawing-room window open—it was closed the night before.
Cross-examined. There were two stops on the window to prevent it being opened more than a certain distance.
ALFRED DIXSON (Detective Sergeant). On March 20th I went to Hendon Lane with Inspector Harris—I took the prisoner's boots—they were not nailed, but were worn at the heels—I laid them slightly on the ground, and they corresponded with the foot-marks.
Cross-examined. I measured no boots but yours—I think a person of your size could squeeze in at the window.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I only say I am not guilty of attempting to enter. I shall cross-examine the witnesses on
my trial, because they have not stated the facts." (He put in a written defence, stating that the articles found on him were used in shoe making, and not for any unlawful purpose, and that he had five years' good character from his employer, in reply to which the following evidence was called.)
Cross-examined. Only a halfpenny was stolen, but every box in the church was broken.
He was then given in charge on the previous conviction and found
GUILTY.**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
440. JOHN RICHARD TAYLOR (62) , Unlawfully incurring a debt and liability to the amount of £7,412 10s,. by false pretences. Six other Counts, for obtaining £18 11s. 7d., and other sums in like manner, with intent to defraud.
MR. H. AVORY and MR. BIRON Prosecuted, and MR. HENRY KISCH Defended.
HARRY PANMURE GORDON . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, and one of the firm of Panmure Gordon and Hill, of Copthall Court, Thread-needle Street—I met the prisoner at Harrogate, and on January 4th be came to my office and asked me what I thought was going to be the future of Brighton "A"—I said I thought they were going to rise—he said "I don't think so, I bought some sometime ago and there has been a rise; will you be good enough to sell for me £5,000 Brighton 'A'"—I said, "As we don't do speculative business, are you sure you have got the stock, and does it stand in your name?"—he said, "It does"—I then called my partner, and said, "This gentleman wishes to sell some Brighton 'A' stock. He holds the stock, and tells me the certificate is in his name"—the prisoner repeated in Mr. Hill's presence that he held the stock, and that the certificate was in his name—I acted on the belief that his statements were true—he gave his address in the office somewhere at Brixton—one of my partners afterwards sold for him £5,000 Brighton "A" in the market—this is the sold note of the transaction, showing that the £5,000 stock sold for £4,700 10s., brokerage at 1/4 £18 11s. 7d., and 1s. the stamp—on 12th January we sent this letter to the prisoner: "As the Settlement commences on Monday next we should be obliged by your sending us the certificate of the £5,000 Brighton 'A' sold on your behalf, so as to enable us to prepare the transfer. P. S.—The dividend was declared today, and was better than was expected, viz., nine Allsopp's Ordinary close to night 54 3/4 to 55 1/4 "—we received no answer, and telegraphed to the hotel where we knew he was staying, and heard ho was there, and then telegrams were sent—on January 15th we received thin telegram: "Detained here. Postpone delivery Brighton Deferred for a fortnight. Buy 100 Allsopps for next account. "I telegraphed to him at Manchester the same day, "Cannot buy Allsopps, unless you remit £1,000, viz., 10 per cent, margin, being usual custom for speculative accounts. Are continuing Brightons to next account"—
we sent another telegram, "Postponement of delivery costs you about 3/8 per cent, backwardation"—after that we continued the stock in the market, and paid the difference—we sent a letter enclosing the account, and after continuing we wrote: "Dear Sir,—We duly received your telegram, asking us to postpone delivery of £5,000 Brighton 'A'; please remit balance by return. We clearly understood you this was not a speculative account. Please let us know the name the stock stands in in the company's books, etc. We wired you and received no reply." For the purpose of transferring stock it is necessary to know the Christian name of the person in whose name it stands, and we only knew the prisoner as J. B.—this is the note: "Bought for 17th instant, £5,000 Brighton Deferred Stock at 151 3/4 "—this account (produced) shows a balance due to us of £193 11s. 7d., being a difference of £175—in answer to, that letter I think we got a telegram, and we sent a telegram on the 16th—at the time we continued the stock we still believed the statement of his having it in his possession—we sent this telegram to the prisoner at the hotel at Manchester: "No reply from you; please telegraph"—we received no answer to that, and telegraphed to the manager of the hotel and then to the prisoner: "We hear you are still at the hotel, but have had no reply, unless we have a satisfactory letter to-morrow morning we shall close the stock, holding you liable"—on January 17th I received this telegram: "Ill in bed. Better to-day. Hope to reach London to-morrow or next day, to arrange. Don't close"—we then sent this: "Received your telegram. You must send us cheque for difference, or give satisfactory evidence that you can deliver stock, or we shall close stock and put matters in solicitor's Hands. Please reply by wire, or at latest by letter to-morrow morning"—on the same day we wrote this letter, and paid this cheque for £170, for the amount of the difference, to P. Ricardo and Co., and then sent this telegram: "Not hearing from you, have closed your stock"—we also wrote this letter: "As we received no reply from you this morning, in accordance with our telegram yesterday we have bought back the £5,000 Brighton 'A' stock, sold by your order, and shall be obliged by your sending us a cheque for balance, £213 8s. 4d."—in that letter we enclosed the bought note and the statement of account, showing a balance of £213 8s. 4d.—the backwardation was £17 3s. 9d.—we afterwards received this telegram, of January 19th, from the prisoner: "I repudiate closing. I advise you to re-open to prevent yourselves losses"—we then received this, across which is written by the prisoner: "I decline to accept this contract, and maintain that my contract given you, dated 15th January, holds good till January 31st"—there was, I believe, a further charge of £2 10s. for closing the account—all those payments were made by us in the belief that his statements were true—we consulted our solicitor, and afterwards applied for a summons at Guildhall.
Cross-examined. The total amount in dispute between us and the prisoner is £213, of which £18 odd is commission, which brings it something under £200—I made his acquaintance at Harrogate in September, 1893—I heard that he has been in the employ of Smith and Co. twenty years in a very responsible position—he is connected with journalism, and had been writing an article which I wished him, to get published—I said at the Police-court, "We had no conversation, about Stock Exchange
matters; our conversation was about financial matters"—he had once called at my office and talked to me about financial matters—Brighton "A's" are sometimes called Berthas—that is one of the most speculative securities—he did not say that in his belief Brighton 'A's' were going to fall, but I suggested to him that they were going to rise—he did not suggest selling a less quantity—he said, ** I bought Brighton 'A' some time ago; there is a profit on it which I wish to take"—I cannot make a mistake about his saying that he had the certificate in his own name—I have the best of memories—I said at the Police-court, "I have not the best of memories"—it was put to me, "Have you a good memory in business matters?" and I said, "Not in quotations," meaning quotations out of some book, not Stock Exchange quotations—we do very little speculative business, only for certain persona, not for comparative strangers—there had been a great dearth of business for some time on the Stock Exchange—brokers were not keener than usual—the less business we do the more careful we are—£18 is always worth earning; it is 1/2 commission—we charged him a 1/4 commission on this transaction—the maximum regulation on the Stock Exchange is 1/2 per cent.—there is no rule in speculative transactions; a broker may put what commission he chooses, or he can do it for nothing—he cannot go above 1/2 per cent.—I made no arrangement with the prisoner what the commission was to be. I had nothing to do with it; it was arranged with my partner—we charge a West-end man more than a professional man; we term one on orchid, and the other a turnip—Mr. Hill was at the Police-court ready to give evidence, but I heard it said that his evidence would not be pressed for in order that the case might be sent for trial, and come on lost Session—Mr. Hill has never given evidence—I believe he swore his own information—I sent for Mr. Hill—I had no suspicion that what the prisoner said was untrue, but I used business prudence—if I had asked him for the certificate, it would have been equivalent to calling him a liar—there had been an unprecedented rise in Allsopps' stock, and on January 12th it was over par—it is true that he asked me to carry out a transaction in Allsopps after I sent him that letter—if I had entered into the transaction there would have been a large sum of money coming to him, but they were different operations—I swear that he mode those statements; we should not have done the business if he' had not—I had no conversation with him about Allsopps' stock on January 12th—I was asked at the Police-court why I put in the telegram that we wanted a margin, and I said I thought that would choke him off—I think January 17th was the date that we learnt from the Brighton Railway that there was no stock in his name, but not necessarily that we had been defrauded, it might have been in some relation's name—he had told me that it was in his name—if we had been paid the difference which we asked for we should have carried on the stock to the next account; that was not all we wanted, we wanted the stock—I did not think that by turning this into a criminal proceeding some of his friends might come forward, with the consent of the Alderman—the man was well known on the Stock Exchange, and I did it in the interests of my brother brokers, who had been robbed—it never entered my mind that if the friends came forward the prosecution might be with-drawn—I can name thirty or forty persons who hold £5,000' Brighton'
"A's"—Rothschilds hold, I should think, £100,000; £5,000 is a very small amount to hold in railway stock.
Re-examined. The fact of it being a speculative stock would be a sufficient reason for my ascertaining that he had got it before I sold it—I heard that he had been twenty years in Messrs. Smith's office, and was investing his money—directly I ascertained on January 17th that he did not hold the stock, I communicated with my solicitor.
ARTHUR HILL . I am one of the firm of Panmure Gordon, Hill and Co. on January 4th Mr. Gordon introduced the prisoner to me, and said that he wished to sell £5,000 Brighton "A"—Mr. Gordon said, "You have this stock?"—he said "Yes," and that it stood in his name, and he held the certificate—upon that I went to the Stock Exchange and sold the stock, believing he held it—I returned to the office and handed the sold note to him, showing the amount of the brokerage, and said we should charge him 1/4 per cent, on the money—in speculative business commission is charged on the stock, but this was charged on the money—he said he should like to invest the money in other securities, he did not wish very high class stock, to pay him 3 or 4 per cent.; but he liked something that fluctuated, as he had plenty of time at his disposal—I mentioned various stocks, and among others Allsopps—I believe I wrote and signed the letter of January 12th, asking him to send the certificate of the Brighton "A's," and saying, "Allsopps close to-night at 54 3/4 "—the £17 3s. 9d. backwardation was paid to two firms, Laing, and Fletcher, and the difference of £175 on the stock would be paid to Messrs. Ricardo—the £2 10s. was to be paid to Early, Smith and Co.—that was a further difference in the price.
Cross-examined. There are no fixed charges; the maximum is 1/2 percent.—it is free for the broker to make any charge he likes, subject to arrangement—I think we have charged more than 1/4 on speculative transactions—this was 1/4 on the money—if the stock was only at 20, you might charge 1-16th—the charge of 1/4 does not show that this was a speculative transaction; being charged on the money shows that it was an investment transaction—it is a rule of our office, and I should think it is a rule of the Stock Exchange—I said to the prisoner, "I will charge the brokerage on investments at 1/2 per cent., but as you want to go in and out of stock we shall charge you only 1/4 per cent, on the money"—he did not say, "That is right, as I may want to close the account before the stock day"—he was there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour from the time I first saw him and went to the Stock Exchange and came back—Mr. Gordon was not there the whole time, because I was arranging the re-investment of the money—we do speculative business—I don't think we have a single instance with, cover; we should only do it with people of well-known position—we charge on the contract the exact Bum we have to pay the dealers, a backwardation, except in some places where there is little more for commission for carrying over—we do not put down backwardation so much, and commission so much, because the clerks like to have the exact amount.
Re-examined. My observation about our charge for brokerage was made to him after the conversation at which he said he held the stock—I
said I should Only charge him 1/4, because he said he liked stocks which fluctuated; I thought it might mean more business.
By the COURT. It is not common for brokers to charge 1/2 per cent.; a good deal of business is done at 1/4.
WILLIAM MEDHURST . I am the Registrar of the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway Company, limited—I have searched through the names of the holders of the "A" stock—there is no holder named J. R. Taylor, nor was there on January 4th—for the purpose of selling stock it is necessary to have the Christian name us well as the surname—I have got the register here.
Cross-examined. Brighton ordinary stock is spread over a number of holders—I might find a holder of as much as £5,000 Brighton "A" stock; I have only got the "T's here—there is not one amongst the "T's" I found one holder of £10,635, but that is the ordinary stock—there are persons holding £5,000 "A" stock, but not under the name of Taylor.
Thursday, May 3rd.
On the assembling of the COURT a JUROR being absent from illness, another JUROR was sworn in his place, and the evidence given yesterday was read to the witnesses by the shorthand writer, to which they assented.
H. P. GORDON (Re-examined by MR. KISCH). A card of a mutual friend was brought to me at Harrogate introducing Mr. Taylor.
By MR. AVORY. I did not open a speculative account with him because he brought the card of a mutual friend.
WILLIAM MEDHURST (Re-examined by MR. KISCH). I can now give you the name of a holder of £5,000 Brighton "A," excluding directors (Writing it down)—he has been on the register about two years—I give from memory the names of Rothschild and Baron Hirsch the stock is two millions and a half.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD (City Detective). On January 30th I received instructions, and endeavoured to serve a summons on the prisoner—I went to York, Birmingham, and Manchester, and was a little behind at each place, and could not serve it—there were five adjournments before the Magistrate—on March 24th a warrant was obtained, and he was arrested—Detective Hand, of the Birmingham police, handed him over to me—I told him he would be charged with obtaining credit for £7,400 10s.—he made no reply—some letters were found on him, one of which is: "March 13th, 1894, 111, Finsbury Pavement. Dear Sir,—This summons stands adjourned for a week. I think you can run up to town with safety.—Yours faithfully, JOHN READ." and another of March 22nd: "Your letter of yesterday to hand. I must express my regret at omitting to write to you at Wolverhampton as requested. I have dispatched a letter by the raid-day mail, and hope it will reach you. There is nothing fresh; everything is in statu quo ante. I have nothing to add.—Yours faithfully, JOHN READ"—the summons was handed to me after the case was adjourned at Guildhall.
WILLIAM HAND (Detective, Birmingham). On March 24th I arrested the prisoner on a warrant, and told him it was for obtaining £7,000 with intent to defraud—on the way to the office he said, "I admit I had not the money to pay at the time, but I did not do it with intent to defraud; it is a debt between me and the Stock Exchange of £213."
Cross-examined. He first said, "It is a debt to the Stock Exchange of £13," and then, "I admit I had not the money to pay."
MR. HENRY KISCH submitted as to the first Count that the prisoner had not obtained credit for £7,000 on January 4th, but had only placed himself under an obligation to deliver stock to the nominal amount of £5,000 on January 15th. MR. AVORY requested the COURT to take a separate verdict on that Count. MR. KISCH further submitted as to the thirds fourth, and sixth Counts that they were not within the 13th Section of the Debtors' Act of 1869, and there teas no such case on record. The credit must be the direct and necessary consequence of the false pretences, for if it should happen that the stock was not delivered, the broker carried it over, and if it had gone down there would have been money to be handed over by the broker, who was bound by the rules of the Stock Exchange to pay the difference, and therefore the credit which arose did not necessarily and directly arise from the false pretences, and further, credit could not be obtained for anything which was in its nature unliquidated; the broker had to cover a loss, but it was not a debt, as there was no contract to pay a fixed sum, it was a contract to indemnify: and though the broker had suffered damage, for which he could sue the prisoner on indemnity implied by law, there was no debt due to the broker, because no credit had been obtained. The rules of the Stock Exchange, not the false pretences, compelled him to pay the money. As to the second Count, unless there was evidence of an agreed commission, the broker was only entitled to what was fair and reasonable, and until the broker's charge for commission had been ascertained, no credit for, commission had been obtained. As to the rest of the Counts, MR. KISCH contended that the moneys paid had not been paid "for the use or benefit or on account of" the prisoner, under in sec. 89 of 24, 25 Vic. c. 96. The rules of the Stock Exchange compelled Mr. Gordon to pay these sums, and they were therefore paid on his own account, though the prisoner, under an implied indemnity, was bound in law to indemnify the broker. MR. AVORY contended as to the second Count that the amount to be paid was actually assessed, because there was evidence that the commission stated upon the sold notes was agreed, and that there was evidence on all the Counts. It was decided in Reg. v. Peters, Crown Cases Reserved, that a man does obtain credit, even though there is no stipulation at the time of the contract that he shall have credit. THE RECORDER considered that there was evidence to go to the Jury on all the Counts, but would take a separate verdict on e first Count, if it became necessary.
GUILTY on all the Counts. The RECORDER declined to state a case upon any of the Counts, as he entertained no doubt about them.—Judgment respited.
MR. MONEY Prosecuted.
FREDERICK JACOBI . I am a waiter, of 37, Leman Street—on April 18th I was passing Half Moon Passage, Aldgate, and saw three men—one of them, Murray, came out of the court and pushed me towards the other two—I recognise both prisoners—the one who has got away pulled me Hack into the arms of the other two—Murray took my watch and chain
and ran towards the City boundary—the other kicked me—I caught Murray—he said, "What is the matter?"—I said, "I mean to stick to you"—a boy blew a whistle and gave chase to him, while I was struggling with Burns—a constable came up, and we took him to the station, and in a few minutes Murray came with a City constable—I said, "That is the man who took my watch and chain"—in about twenty minutes a lady brought them, and said she found them in a gutter—I do not know the value of the watch, but the chain cost me 25s.—I feel the injury very much still in wet weather, and I have a scar on my knee still—I was bruised about my ribs where they kicked me.
Cross-examined by Burns. A fourth man was on the look-out—I could not recognise the two who ran away—I had no doctor—I caught you; a cuff came off your shirt in my hand—I handed it to the inspector.
Cross-examined by Murray. I saw you take my watch when you had me down by my throat—I am positive you are the man who put his hand in my pocket.
By the COURT. I am sure the prisoners are two of the men—I had hold of Burns some time, and Murray put his hand under my chin, and I saw his full face.
ELENGER GREEN . I am a tailor, of 73, Mansell Street—on 18th April, about 7.45, I heard a cry of "Stop thief! "and saw the prisoners running—Burns said, "Oh, you rascal"—Murray ran away—I gave chase and blew my whistle, and a City constable stopped him—Burns got behind a van.
Cross-examined by Burns. I did not see the prosecutor.
WILLIAM FLUISTER (373 H). On 18th April, about eight p.m., I heard a whistle, which I found was in Amy Street, where I found Jacobi detaining Burns, whom I took—he said, "This is what I get for helping you"—Jacobi identified the watch and chain—his clothes were very dirty and torn at the knee—T found this cuff on Burns.
Cross-examined by Burns. After your coat was taken off you said, "That is my cuff"—Jacobi might have had hold of you before I came up, but I cannot say, as there was such a crowd—as soon as I came up he caught hold of you and said, "This man has robbed me, with two others."
RICHARD CURTIS (803 City). On 18th April I was in Mansell Street, heard a police whistle, and saw Murray running at a very great pace—I stopped him, and asked what he was running for—he said he was running after someone who had knocked a man down—I detained him till Green came,' who said that Murray had knocked the man down—I took him to the station, where Jacobi identified him.
Cross-examined by Murray. You ran right into my arms—the watch was picked up about six feet from there—I stropped you about twenty feet from 42, Mansell Street.
Burns's defence. It was impossible for the prosecutor to chase me, for I was standing at the very place where it happened.
Murray's defence. I saw a man running and chased him; when he got to the bottom of the street he stopped running and walked, and the con
stable stopped me—I told him I was running after a man who had gone round the corner.
GUILTY .—MURRAY then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell, on July 26th, 1886, in the name of James Kirby. BURNS— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. MURRAY**— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HENDERSON Prosecuted.
SARAH TUFFS . I am the wife of Robert Tuffs, of 56, Wands worth Bridge Road—on Sunday morning, April 15th, I was aroused by a noise and jumped out of bed, and saw a man—I followed him, and he got out at the scullery window—I missed my watch and chain from the table, and saw it next morning at the station—mine is a front bedroom on the first floor, and they got in by the window—all the doors were locked the previous evening.
WALTER JAMES CLARK (511 J). Early on April 15th I was on duty in Wandsworth Bridge Road, with Moore, another constable, and saw the prisoner coming on the other side of the road, not many yards from the house, and a man at the window of No. 56, unfastening it—we turned our lights on, and he went away from the window and rushed through the house, leaving the door open—I rushed after him through the house but could not see him—I searched the house and then came out and saw Crim at the corner of the road, and asked him why he was loitering there—he bolted off—I found Chapman in an unfinished house, about seven o'clock, and asked what he was doing there—he said he came from the Canterbury and was too late to get in, and went therefor shelter—that is a music-hall—I pointed to his waistcoat and said, "Where did you get that watch from?" he said, "That is my own"—I asked where he got it; he said he bought it—I charged him with burglary and took him to the station—I saw Crim again on Sunday night at the station.
Cross-examined by Chapman. You did not say, "If you want to search me take me to the station"—the watch was in your waistcoat pocket and the chain in your trousers pocket.
JOHN MOORE (554 J). I was with Clark, and saw Chapman at this window at two a.m. with his hand on the catch—Clark threw his light on him, and he bolted through the house—I went inside—an entry had been made by cutting away some perforated zinc from the lower window—I saw Crim cross the road immediately after Chapman came to the window—he was about twenty yards from the house when I first saw him, just—outside the gate of No. 76—after I came out of the house I went into Wandsworth Bridge Road, and saw Crim walking away sharply—we walked fast towards him, and he ran away—we ran after him, but could not run so fast with our coats on—I saw Chapman next at the station on Sunday afternoon—I took Crim on Sunday afternoon, and told him the charge—he said, "You have made a mistake, governor"—he had a key on him.
and he made off—I did not know that any offence had been committed—I knew Crim by sight.
Chapman, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence, said that he met a man at 3.30 who offered him the watch for 10s., and he gave him 5s. 2 1/2 d. for it, which was all lie had.
Crim stated that he was walking with a girl when the constable stopped him, that he knew nothing of Chapman, and produced some written testimonials to his character.
GUILTY .—CHAPMAN— Six Months' Hard Labour. CRIM— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
THIRD COURT.—Friday, May 4th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS, H. AVORY and BIRON Prosecuted, and MESSRS. C. F. GILL and A. GILL Defended.
During the progress of the case MR. C. GILL stated that he could not resist a verdict of Guilty upon the Count for uttering, it having been decided that a person who knowingly put forward a false document which was accepted as genuine was responsible for the offence, apart from any question of intention to defraud. The prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY that lie was guilty of uttering, and the JURY found him guilty of uttering. There were other indictments against him for omitting material particulars from and making false entries in certain books of the North London Commercial Permanent Building Society, his masters, and also for embezzling certain of their moneys. He received an excellent character.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT, Friday, May 4th; and
OLD COURT, Saturday, May 5th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY on the Second Count— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted, and MR. BRUCE Defended.
WALTER OUTRAM (City Detective Sergeant). On April 30th, about 2.30, I saw Mrs. Buckland in Cheapside, and heard her make a statement to a gentleman—in consequence of what she said I followed the prisoner, and said, "I am a police officer; that lady says you stole her purse in an omnibus"—he said, "I have not been in any omnibus"—the lady came up, and said, "Give me my purse"—I said, "Are you sure this is the man?"—she said, "This is the man the 'bus man pointed out to me"—I
said, "Give me your ticket," and she did so—the prisoner was taken to the station, and the conductor picked him out from ten others, and said he was not the man who stole the purse, but he was with the man who did—he said he was innocent.
Cross-examined. When Mrs. Buckland pointed the prisoner out he had just crossed the street, and was walking on—it was very crowded, but I am accustomed to crowded streets.
KEZIA JANE BUCKLAND . I am the wife of William Buckland, of 139, Waleran Buildings, Old Kent Road—on April 30th I got into an omnibus at London Bridge to go to Wood Street, Cheapside—I had a brown leather purse with 17s. 6d. in it—I took a florin out to pay for the omnibus, and received 1s. 11d. change—I put the coppers in my pocket, and the silver in my purse—I noticed two men in the omnibus; the prisoner is very like one of them—when I got out, the conductor spoke to me, and I missed my purse—he pointed out the prisoner, and I caught hold of a gentleman, and asked him to help me take the man, but a detective took him—I am sure the prisoner is the man the conductor pointed to—I had the omnibus ticket in my pocket, and gave it to the detective.
Cross-examined. The omnibus was very full at first, but it emptied as we got towards Wood Street—the prisoner sat on my right side, next my pocket—he got in directly after me—I was half-way up—I felt no tug on my dress—no search was made in the bus for the purse, nor did anyone suggest it—I kept my eye on the prisoner all the time after the conductor pointed him out; I never lost sight of him—he had only just crossed the road when the detective went up to him—he said that I was accusing an innocent man, and he had not been in the omnibus at all.
FREDERICK WATTS .1 am metropolitan stage conductor, 945—on April 30th I was the conductor of an omnibus which went from London Bridge to Cheapside—the prosecutrix got in at London Bridge; the prisoner sat on her right side, and another man on her left—one or two passengers got out, and then the prisoner went and sat between the lady and a young fellow who was pretending to be asleep, with his hands behind him—the lady sat on the near side, and the prisoner on the opposite side at first, but he afterwards crossed over—the man pretending to be asleep, put his hands behind the prisoner, who had his hands on his knees, and was leaning forward, and my suspicions were aroused—the other man got out first, and the prisoner at the same time as the lady, a few yards further on—he got out before her—I spoke to her, and pointed the prisoner out to her, and went on with my omnibus—she paid with a florin, and I gave her 1s. 11d. change—the other man paid the fare, and I gave him two tickets—later in the day Outram came to me, and I went to Black Lion Street Station and picked the prisoner out from a number of men—I am sure he is the man who was sitting opposite the lady and crossed over.
Cross-examined. I have been a conductor five years, and have given evidence in such cases before—the omnibus was pretty full; an old lady got out, and then the prisoner crossed over and took the seat—no search was made in the omnibus—a purse might be dropped and picked up without my seeing it, but I never saw such a thing happen before—I did not lose sight of the prisoner when I spoke to the lady.
Re-examined. The other man did not seem tired on his getting in—he did not seem in a hurry to get out—I thought he was shamming.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at the Mansion House on January 24th 1893, in the name of John Nicholas. Eleven other convictions were proved against him.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted, and MR. BLACKWELL Defended.
GEORGE EDWARD GOULD . I am a labourer, of 8, Poplar Terrace, High Street, Plumstead—on Easter Sunday, shortly after ten p.m., I was outside an omnibus from King's Cross to the Elephant and Castle—the fares were collected between King's Cross and Holborn Town Hall, and the prisoner came to me for two fares at 2d. each—I gave him a half-sovereign, and said, "This is a half-sovereign I am giving you"—he gave me two tickets and 2d. change—I said, "That is not my right change; I refuse to take it," and told him I had given him a half-sovereign—he said, "If you gave me a half-sovereign, it belongs to you, if I have got it on me"—he said I had given him a sixpence, and looked in his pocket among the sixpences—there was no constable there, and we went on to Holborn Bars, where I called a City sergeant and told him—he asked the prisoner what I had given him—he said, "Sixpence"—the sergeant called two constables, and the prisoner called me on one side and said, "Don't stop the omnibus; come down to the Elephant, and I will give it you back"—I said, "If you have got it give it me back, and I will treat you with it"—he did not give it to me—I saw his pouch searched at the station, and a half-sovereign found among the coppers.
Cross-examined. He said that I could have him searched at the Elephant—there were other passengers on the omnibus besides me and Miss Holton, but they did not get down before the Town Hall—I cannot say whether he had some coppers in his hand when I gave him the fare—he said, "If I have got it, when you come down to the Elephant I will give it to you."
KATE HOLTON . I live at 40, Guildford Road, Clapham—on Easter Sunday night I was on an omnibus by the side of Mr. Gould, and saw him give money for the fares, I cannot say what—the prisoner punched the tickets, and Mr. Gould said, "That was a half-sovereign I gave you"—the prisoner offered two tickets and twopence; Mr. Gould refused to take it—the prisoner said it was not a half-sovereign, but a sixpence, and that he had not a half-sovereign in his pouch—Mr. Gould said that if he did not give it to him he would have him searched at the corner—he said, "I have four sixpences in my pouch; if I have a half-sovereign it is yours"—the twopence change was offered before any other fares had been taken.
Cross-examined. No one had got off the omnibus that I know of—I do not know whether the prisoner had any coppers in his hand when he came up—I did not see what the coin was—it was dark at the time—he took some silver out of his pocket on top of the omnibus, and said, "This is all I have"—he did not pass me on the omnibus—the prisoner said, "Come to the Elephant and Castle, and have me searched there"—I don't think he took any fares on the top afterwards.
Re-examined. I got down at Holborn, at the station.
GEORGE GARDNER (234 E) On Easter Sunday, at 10.20 p.m., I was called to the prisoner's omnibus, and Mr. Gould said he had given the prisoner a half-sovereign, and he declined to give him the change—the prisoner said, "I have not got it"—I said to Mr. Gould, "You must give him in custody"—he said "I will if he don't give it to me"—I said, "Will you give him in custody?"—he said, "I will"—the prisoner then said, "I have got it," and pot his hand in his pocket—I took him to the station, searched him, and found a half-sovereign among the coppers in his pouch, which is in three divisions; the larger part is where the coppers were—he made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. The prisoner bears a good character—he was employed by this omnibus company over a twelvemonth, and since he has been admitted to bail I have noticed him working an omnibus; I cannot say whether of the same company—I did not say to the solicitor that I would make it hot for the prisoner, or bring someone who would fix it up for him—this is the second case I have had within a month—the prosecutor was present when he said, "I have got it, and will give it to you"—he did not say, "If I have got it," but he might have said so on the omnibus—I have no doubt whatever about what he said—I have not talked the matter over with any of the constables.
By the COURT. When he said "I have got it," he did not look in his pouch—I am sure he did not say, "If I have got it," after I was called to the omnibus.
WINFORD BUTCHER (308 City). On Easter Sunday evening I was to Holborn—an omnibus pulled up at Holborn Bars, and I went up and saw Sergeant Scammell—Mr. Gould was talking to the prisoner; he said, "I have given this man a half-sovereign, and he won't give me change"—I said to the prisoner, "Have you got it?"—he said, "No"—I said, "He will give you in custody if you don't give it to him"—he then spoke to a Metropolitan constable, and the prisoner said, "I have got it, I will give it to you back"—the constable took him in custody.
Cross-examined. He did not say, "If I have got it I will give it you back"—the only thing I am clear about is, that he said, "I have got it "—I have not been talking to the other officer during the adjournment—I did not come in with him.
CHARLES SCAMMELL (City Police Sergeant). I was at the end of Gray's Inn Road on Easter Sunday night on the north side, within the City boundary—an omnibus drew up, and Mr. Gould got off, and said, "I got on this man's omnibus at King's Cross, and shortly afterwards the conductor came and said, 'Fares'; I gave him a half-sovereign, and shortly afterwards I asked him for it; he said, 'I have not got it'; I said, 'You have'"—I said to the conductor, "Have you this man's money?"—he said, "No"—I called a Metropolitan constable and said, "This is a matter which occurred in your district; thin gentleman accuses the man, and you had better hear what it is"—he asked the prosecutor if he would charge the prisoner—he said, "Yes, if he does not give it to me"—the prisoner then said, "Oh, I have got it; I will give it you."
Cross-examined. He did not say, "If I have got it I will give it you"—there was a large crowd collected—the prisoner was near enough it hear what was said.
Witness for the Defence.
THOMAS WILLIAM ROWLEY . I am road collector to the King's Cross and Barnsbury Omnibus Company; the prisoner has been in their employ since March 9th, 1893, and during the whole of that time his conduct has been wholly satisfactory; we never had any complaint against him—I have known persons give a half-crown for a sixpence or for a penny, and the money put in the purse, and the next passenger has discovered it—I have found also that conductors have taken a half-sovereign and had it in their possession to the end of the journey, where they turn it out in the presence, perhaps, of a constable, but if they looked at it on the journey they might over-balance and perhaps lose the lot—when the prisoner's license was given back to him, I took him back next morning on the same omnibus, which passes Police-constable Gardner sixteen times a day, if he is there.
Cross-examined. The pouches are sacks in three divisions; the top one is for copper, the next for silver, and this one for gold, but they generally put the gold in their pockets—this part is for threepenny bits; there are really four divisions.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN SEED . I am manager to Ash and Co., artificial teeth manufacturers, of Angler's Lane, Kentish Town—platinum is extensively used for artificial teeth, and the price of it is 39s. 10d. per oz.; it is cut into pins, varying with the thickness of the teeth through which they have to pass—great care is taken that all the sweepings and pieces of platinum which have been cut off are collected, and taken to a room, and kept there; people are employed to collect them—no one has any right to take away a small piece of it—Smith has been employed there as electrical engineer for some years—his engine was in the next room, and some portions of it ran into the room where the platinum was kept, and he had to go in to oil the engine—he and the stoker arrived at 6.30, and the workpeople at eight; the ordinary people left at six, and the others at nine—we missed platinum last year, and in January we found a deficiency of 163 oz., value about £1,500—a man naned Pruse was there as caretaker in August, 1893, and he remained till his death in March—he had no right to take any of this metal—Dickens was employed as carpenter eighteen months or two years ago, and not since—I have seen him with Smith near the premises from time to time, and I have seen Harris with Dickens—I have seen Smith and Dickens go to a public-house, from time to time, down to within a day or two of Smith's arrest in February, I think—in March this year I received a communication, in consequence of which I went to Mr. Perriman's, in Barbican, and there saw a man named Perritz, who made a statement to me, in consequence of which I went with Inspector Conquest to the prisoner Smith, and in consequence of a conversation between them Smith was arrested—I then got further information, in consequence of which the other two prisoners
were arrested—Mr. Morton, of the Sheffield Smelting Company, produced to me this sample of platinum, which is Messrs. Ash's—I can only see these private marks on one pin, but I am perfectly familiar with it—there is almost half an ounce here—it has been flattened in a very bad mill or hammered, to hide its identity—Dickens helped me to put up the machine through which the platinum is sifted, and I spoke to him about the value of it repeatedly, because we had a machine to prevent any possible waste, and under my direction he made a number of experiments for the recovery of the platinum.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. About three hundred pieces would go to make up half an ounce—I have received more than that which Perritz had tried to sell—about two hundred women and forty men are employed there—Smith was never alone; he was always with the stoker, and at six o'clock another stoker came, and would be in the room till he left—we have a machine which keeps the pins from going into the acid—a lot of plaster of Paris is attached to them—they are swept up with the dirt, dried over the boiler, and eventually put into acid—they are left in sacks over the boiler in the engine-room all night—a watchman is on duty there all night, and had access to all the premises—these pieces were all in the shape of pins when swept up, not as they are now—they are consistent with the appearance of one of our pins flattened out, and are, weight for weight, the same—the prisoner would be all black when looking over the engines, and if you put your arm into these sacks it would be all white—we lose as much as 200 ounces in the year—the whole floor was taken up five years ago, and we found fifty ounces which had got down through the cracks—a certain amount is taken away on the boots—we had an excellent character with Smith, and he has been with us ten years—I don't think it was a long character, but it was satisfactory—he was away ill twice last year, and also two years before.
Cross-examined by Dickens. I should say you are a respectable man—I don't remember ever seeing you inside the premises, but you live near there.
DANIEL BALDWIN . I am employed at Messrs. Ash's to recover platinum—it is my duty to separate the small pieces of platinum from the dirt, by sweeping and washing in a room next to the engine-room—the engine extends into that room—I have seen Smith with a quantity of pieces in his hand, and saying that it would be a fortune for anybody.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I may have said the same; I know how valuable they are—the sweepings are put in a sack to dry over the boiler, and sifted, and what remains is sifted in another hopper, and then washed—they have to be cleansed with acid afterwards—these have not been in acid—the acid is to take all the grease off.
Re-examined. They are put in bags to dry over the same boiler which Smith conducts the engine of.
THOMAS FREDERICK GILLMAN . I am a stoker, employed at Messrs. Ash's—I worked with Smith for ten years—I have known Dickens about seven years—I took a message from Smith to Dickens about a pair of hinges he was making—appointments were made once or twice a week—I have known Harris for the last twelve months—he is a bootmaker; he came to the factory to see Smith—I have seen all the three prisoners together on Sundays, and have been in their company at the Abbey Public-house and
the Wolseley—I used to go to the works early in the morning to light the fire—I was supposed to be there at 6.30, but was frequently much later—Smith's time was 6.30; he was sometimes there before I arrived.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I have drunk with Smith, and sometimes they would all be there together—Harris made bets with men—Smith collected the bets—I may on one occasion have taken bets from the men and given them to Harris, if I answered the gate—four or five persons answered the gate, and Smith took them down—Dickens had two engines to sell; they belonged to Smith—the messages I took from Smith to Dickens were arrangements to meet concerning the sale of the two engines.
ELLEN HYDE . I am barmaid at the Wolseley Tavern, Kentish Town—the prisoners came there every day, and stayed about an hour—Harris used to stay longer than the others; he used to come first, and to the private bar—Smith and Dickens came to another bar, and then he joined them—when Harris heard of Smith's arrest he said he should cut away till it wan over, and I did not see them any more.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I have seen Smith talking with other men who were working at Messrs. Ash's—I am positive they were not there after Smith was taken in custody—I knew he was taken, because I heard the manager tell Mr. Harris.
Cross-examined by Harris. I heard you tell Mr. Cade so; he is the manager—he is not here—I have seen you with Smith on several occasions.
Cross-examined by Dickens. I have been in my situation four months—I may not have seen you every day—I never saw you give Smith anything.
T. F. GILLMAN (Re-examined by Harris). As a rule you called on Saturday—I saw you in the Wolseley from one to two—once you brought me some beer.
EDITH STREET . I have been a barmaid at the Wolseley Tavern, Kentish Town Road, for three and a half months—I have seen all three prisoners there—Harris would come every day, and I have seen Smith there, but Dickens did not come so often; that went on the whole time I was there, till Smith was arrested—after that I saw Harris one day, that was all—I never noticed Dickens there since Smith's arrest.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. It was generally about dinner time, between twelve and one, that I saw Smith; he was with other men, I don't know if they were employes of Messrs. Ash—other people were in the bar when he was there, and they were talking—together I used to go to my dinner and would not be there when he left.
Cross-examined by Harris. I first saw you there just before one—the only times I have seen you with Smith were when you left the private bar and went to him; that might be once a week, or three times in a fortnight—you have left the private bar and gone into the public bar where Smith was.
Cross-examined by Dickens. I have not seen you many times with Smith—I know that Smith has been away for seven or eight weeks—I did not know who you were till after Smith was arrested.
Re-examined. Dickens and Smith, always used the retail bar—Harris
would go round to them, and they would talk together—I have not seen them for more than half on hour at a time.
By MR. HUTTON. Harris spoke to other people in the retail bar.
WILLIAM WRIGHT ROBERTSON . I am a member of the firm of Messrs. J. W. Robertson and Co., refiners and jewellers, 100, Aldersgate Street—I have known Harris since 1888 in the name of Henry Wyatt—he described himself to me as manager of a manufacturing firm of dentists, the French Dental Institute at South Hackney—when he first came in he brought scrap platinum, and offered it to us for sale—I believed the statement he made with regard to himself and his occupation—I wrote several letters to the address he gave, the Dental Institute, and he answered them in person, and acknowledged haying received them—he did not write—there were some transactions prior to 1893—our first transaction was at 20s. per ounce—in 1893 the transactions increased greatly both in number and value—I made no inquiry about the French Dental Institute beyond addressing letters to him there—from January, 1893, to November, 1893, he was pretty often at our place of business, something like twice a month—I keep our books in conjunction with my brother, who is here—I saw them as they were made up—we purchased from Harris on January 4th, 20 oz. 14 dwt. at 22s. an oz., £22 15s. 6d.; on January 13th, 20 1/2 oz. at 22s., £22 11s.; on January 30th, 20 oz. 3 dwt. at 26s. per oz., £26 3s. 9d., and similar purchases down to the 25th November, the aggregate being 577 1/2 oz., and the amount paid to Harris, £758 2s. 2d.—on 3rd December he came again and offered some more—I asked him to give me a more satisfactory account of how he became possessed of it, and I said he should get me a letter from the firm he represented, and he said he would do so—I never saw him after that—I next saw him in custody, when I went and identified him in Conquest's presence—I paid him generally by these cheques, which my brother drew—some of the transactions were cash—the cheques were payable to order, and not crossed, at the prisoner's request, as he said the French Dental Institute had no banking account—we thought at the time it was rather curious, but the man seemed very satisfactory—we traced in the Post Office Directory a French Institute at South Hackney, but not a French Dental Institute; we thought it was the same place—our letters were not returned, and we presumed the prisoner must have had them—the first time we wrote to him was to prove whether there was such an address, and then we wrote to offer him a better price, as platinum, the market value of which fluctuates, had gone up—the prices paid to Harris were between 22s. per oz. at the lowest, and 30s. per oz. at the highest, but the price 398. 10d. per oz. at which platinum was quoted in 1893 was for the manufactured article, which would be higher in value than scrap platinum—the platinum offered by Harris was similar to this sample produced—it had apparently been hammered or rolled, which we thought Was done in course of manufacture; it was described as waste to us—it did not occur to me that it might have been done for the purpose of concealing its identity—we constantly buy platinum from dentist manufacturers—they use pins, but I have never seen flattened out pins like these.
Cross-examined by Harris. I am quite sure you said the French Dental Institute—I do not recollect that you produced a card.
Cross-examined by Dickens. I never bought platinum of you that I know of.
JAMES BEATTIE ROBERTSON . I am the last witness's brother—these cheques are in my handwriting; I paid them to Harris during 1893 for the platinum we bought from him—they are in the name of Wyatt, which was the name he gave—I wrote to him once in 1893, directing the letter to the French Dental Institute, South Hackney—the prisoner replied in person—we made no further inquiry—I knew this was very valuable material—I presume a firm dealing with it in such quantities would take great care it should not be wasted or lost—it was the fact of his coming so steadily and so often that allayed any suspicion that might have arisen—I did not see him the first time he came in May, 1888—my brother, since deceased, saw him then, and made inquiries—I believe there is a French institute at Hackney; I never looked to see if there was such a place—I believe we looked at the Directory, and saw there was a French institute—the fact of our writing, and his coming in answer, allayed any suspicion—the first purchase was at 19s. per oz.—at that time we were paying 20s. per oz.—I cannot say the trade price at that time—I cannot Hay if it was £2; platinum fluctuates very much—it has gone up latterly—it was always a valuable material—there is considerable difference between purchase and selling price—I would not buy it under its value—I have no doubt 19s. was a fair price to give for it at that time, or we should not have done it—I will in future take more care; this has been a surprise to me.
ISIDOR BIAR PERRITZ . I am a commission agent employed by Perriman and Sons, 241, Barbican—I lodged at one time at 42, Frederick Street, King's Cross, where Mrs. Anscombe was the landlady—she was Smith's sister-in-law, I was told—I used to see him there from time to time, usually on Sundays—on a Sunday, in the middle of January last, I saw him there, and talked to him about all kinds of business—he asked me what countries we dealt with, and in what articles—I told him I was a commission agent employed by Messrs. Perriman and Sons, and that we dealt in various articles, and did business with France, Germany, Austria, and so on—he asked me whether I could sell any platinum—I told him the article was out of our line altogether, in fact I knew nothing about it—he produced a sample, and asked me to try and sell it—he said he knew a man who now and then had a certain quantity of it to sell; at the present time there were about fifty ounces so far as he knew—he did not say definitely there would be more, but the man might have more—he said he thought the man would take 20s. per oz., or he might take less, perhaps 18s.—I told him I could not say anything, the thing not being in our line, but I would send it to Paris to some of our friends we were connected with, and ascertain whether the price was right or otherwise, and if we could sell it we should do so—on that understanding he handed me the sample—I kept it for about ten days, and made inquiries not in Paris, but in London, going to different firms who deal in platinum, and making inquiries as to the price, and so on—I left samples of it with the firms I went to; among them being Mr. Robert Wills, of Johnson, Matthey and Co., and Mr. George Darby, and Mr. Reginald Foster, of the Sheffield Smelting Co.—the sample was very similar to this produced—I got
prices from some of those different people; some of them refused to quote prices—in consequence of a message which I sent him through my landlady I got a further sample, and with that I made inquiries also—after that I saw Smith at Frederick Street, and told him that our Paris client was agreeable to take the stuff, but that the Paris firm required me to send it to Johnson, Matthey and they would pay for it, and that the man should come with or without the stuff to disclose who the firm was that was the vendor—he said he would tell his customer to come—a few days afterwards I saw him at the same place, and asked him why the man did not come with or without the stuff—he said he had not seen him; he would see him and tell him—I saw him again, and got an indefinite answer—he never brought the man—after waiting some time, seeing there was something wrong, I went and made a communication to the three firms with whom I had left samples—I last saw Smith the Sunday before he was in custody—I had no conversation with him then about platinum.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I knew him as a visitor to the landlady—I should say I have seen him twenty times since September—in our first conversation he asked me whether I could sell a couple of tricycles for him—very likely I said I could sell anything for anybody—he did not then produce a sample of platinum and say, "Can you sell this?"—he produced a sample when he first mentioned about platinum—he mentioned the name of it at first—I might have said it looked like silver—he did not say "It appears by the weight to be more like platinum"—I told this first to the Inspector who came and put questions to me—Smith told me he knew nothing about it except that a man had given it to him, and said he wanted to sell it—he did not say who the man was, and I did not ask him—I have been in London over ten years, and with my present firm over three years—I told him I had written to Paris, because he expected me to send it there—I had not written to Paris; I had good reasons not to do so—I had to find out in the meantime what the platinum was, and where it came from—I told him I had written to Paris in order to have a longer time to find out—I may have said before the Magistrate: "I told him the lie because we should be able to charge him greater profit," but it was because I wanted longer time; it may have been for both reasons—Smith told me all along that the transaction had nothing to do with him—I remember distinctly that when I said my firm thought it was not all right, he said he was sorry he had had anything to do with it, and he was not to blame in any way—I showed the platinum to my firm next day, and they knew what was going on.
ROBERT WILLS . I am manager to Johnson, Matthey and Co., refiners, of Hatton Garden—on January 18th Perritz called on me, and produced this sample of platinum—we had a conversation about it, and he arranged to come later in the afternoon—he returned, and I refused to quote a price—he knew nothing about platinum—he gave a card with the name of his firm—there was no concealment; it was quite open—Mr. Matthey is a well-known member of the Royal Society.
GEORGE DARBY . I am a refiner of platinum—on January 18th Perritz called on me, and produced a sample of platinum, which he left with me—I quoted a price—about a month afterwards he called again, but he had called in the interval—he took back part of the sample, and said, "You
may do what you like with the rest"—I put it into the scrap box, and it got mixed with other platinum.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. The sample I had was very similar to this produced; the other was a different material altogether.
JOHN SEED (Re-examined). This is the sample I produced yesterday, which I received from the Sheffield Company—the piece in this envelope In undoubtedly a similar pattern—some is not thoroughly flattened out—I have no doubt that this is our platinum.
Cross-examined. I took the stock myself.
JOHN CONQUEST (Police Inspector). On March 15th, at four p.m., I went to Messrs. Ash's and saw Smith—I said, "I am a police officer. Your employers have missed a very large quantity of platinum; I find you have been negotiating with Mr. Perritz, of Frederick Street, King's Cross, about the beginning of January last, and you gave him this fifty-ounce sample, and you said you should have another fifty ounces in three weeks' time"—he said, "Yes, that is so"—I said, "You will be charged with stealing it"—he said, "The whole thing is a joke; it was only done to nettle an argument"—I said, "I must write it down"—he said, "I have never seen anything like this before; it is a very serious thing for me; I have been here all these years. I got it from Mr. Prune, and he died last week; I did not know it was platinum; I was told to say there were forty or fifty ounces, or the buyer would not understand it"—on 25th April I went with Mr. Robertson to 20, Fulbrook Road, Kentish Town, and saw Harris—I had been trying to find him for some time—I said, "I am a police officer. Do you know this gentleman? This is Mr. Robertson, a refiner, of Aldersgate Street; he informs me that you, have sold him a large quantity of platinum during the last four years, as much an fifty ounces at a time; Messrs. Ash have been robbed of a large quantity, and I want to know where you got it from"—he said, "I got it from a man named Dickens, of Taylors Road"—I said, "He is a carpenter, do you know where he got it?"—he said, "No; I had a commission from Dickens of a quarter, and then a third, of what it fetched"—I took him to Kentish Town Station, and then went to 51, Leyton Road, where I saw Dickens, who knew me—I said, "Do you know me?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You will be charged with stealing platinum from Messrs. Ash"—I took him to the station, confronted him with Harris, and said, "Do you know this man?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "He says you paid him a commission for selling; first he had a quarter and then third"—he said, "I suppose you want to know where I got it from?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Well, I got it from the other man"—I said, "What man?"—he said, "Smith, who is now in custody; I did not ask him where he got it; it is useless to deny that I did not know where he got it; of course I knew"—I said, "Have you got any now?"—he said, "No; what I had I threw in the tank."
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. Smith was not present when that was said, but Dickens knew that Smith was in custody—inquiries had been going on since February 28th or March 1st—I knew that Prune died on March 13th—I should have taken anybody else in custody.
Cross-examined by Dickens. I remember your saying something about having been there thirty years, and having a good character—you worked for one man nine or ten years—as far as I know, nothing is known against you.
J. B. ROBERTSON (Re-examined by the JURY). I have not got my copy letter book here—I do not know whether I have a copy of the letter I wrote to Wyatt.
J. CONQUEST (Re-examined). I handed the letter to a man who had been a gardener—he regarded it as a circular, and did not send it back.
GUILTY .—HARRIS— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. SMITH— Twelve Months' without Hard Labour. DICKENS— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. DRAKE Prosecuted.
JAMES HENRY LAW (326 K). At midnight on 8th April I was on duty in Tate Road, Silvertown—I saw the prisoner in charge of a pony-cart—I asked what he was doing—he said, "I have been on the booze, and I am waiting for my two mates, who have gone on the marshes to ease themselves"—two men came up—I asked what they had been doing there—they said they had been on the marshes to ease themselves, and were going home—at 1.15 the same morning I saw the prisoner again, and said to him, "What are you doing here now?"—he said, "My two mates are taken short again, and have gone on the marshes to ease themselves"—I looked in his cart, and saw a sack containing some hams—I asked the prisoner where he got them from—he said, "I don't know; perhaps my two mates will be able to tell you better, whenthey return"—in about three minutes his mates came up; they were the men I had seen previously—I asked them where they got the hams from—one of them said, "What the b—hell has that got to do with you?"—I told them I should detain them—one of them said, "We will soon settle you," putting his hand in his right-hand pocket—I drew my truncheon and blew my whistle for assistance—the two men ran in the direction of Silvertown, the prisoner calling after them, "Act like men; don't leave me alone"—I seized the pony's head—the prisoner whipped the pony and struck me several times on the right shoulder and left hand with this whip, which is broken—I kept my hold on the pony for about 200 yards; then I tripped over some stones—the prisoner drove off at a very rapid pace—I got up and continued to blow my whistle, and eventually I overtook the prisoner at the railway station, where Bushbridge had stopped him.
GEORGE BUSHBRIDGE (482 K). About 1.30 a.m. on 8th April, I was on duty in Albert Road, Silvertown, and saw the prisoner driving a pony and harrow very fast—I saw a sack in his cart—I said, "What have you
in that sack?"—he said, "Only some chaff, governor"—I shouted to him to stop—he said, "All right, Bill; it is all right"—I caught hold of the pony's head—he jumped out; I put my hand on the sack, and said, "This is funny chaff; it is meat"—he said, "I don't know how it came there; those two men have sold me"—Law came up some minutes after—the prisoner was taken to the station and charged—I found this chisel in the vicinity of where the hams were found, and about half a mile from where I arrested the prisoner—I have compared the chisel with marks on a case shown me, from which the hams were stolen, and the chisel corresponds with three of those marks.
CHARLES PALMER (583 L). About 1.30 a.m. on 8th April, I was going home from duty—I heard a police whistle, and proceeded in the direction from whence it came—I saw Bushbridge with the prisoner, and Law with the pony and cart—Law said something to me—I went down to the bottom of Tate Road, and there saw a dock constable—I went across a field and found two sacks, each containing twelve hams; further on I found four against the dock fence, and coming back I found a sack containing seven—about 9.40 I saw the prisoner in the cart—the hams were all of the same sort, and the same as the eight other hams produced.
GEORGE GLEN . I am superintendent to Messrs. Williams, in the Royal Albert Docks—on April 8th I had a case containing what were supposed to be hams, under my charge—I last saw them between five and six o'clock on the Saturday evening, and they were then in sound condition—between eight and nine on Monday morning, I found the case broken, and with only five hams remaining—I compared them with eight or nine hams shown me, and they were of the same description—I should think our shed where the hams were is not more than two hundred yards from the marsh where the hams were found—there is a paling between the marsh and the yard; it would be almost impossible to get over the paling; it is a difficult climb—a man would come in by the gate to get access to our yard.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate and his defence stated that the two men had engaged him to drive them, as they were going to fetch bags of chaff, and that they went and fetched the sack which lie believed contained chaff.
GUILTY of Receiving.— Judgment respited, for the prisoner to have an opportunity of giving information.
MR. WARBURTON prosecuted
GUILTY .— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant
MR. HUDSON Prosecuted
GEORGE HUDSON . On 26th March, about 9.30, I was in the Liverpool Road, and saw a man on the pavement by the railings; his back wan towards me—I did not see his face then—when I got alongside of him he said, "They are having a jubilee here"—I said, "Yes, there has been a wedding to-day"—it was Easter Sunday—I wenton my way—I had taken about two steps when I received three severe blows on my right ear, which knocked me into the road—I had a good opportunity of seeing the prisoner when I spoke to him, as a lamp shone on his face—when I was on the ground he snatched my watch and chain, and ran away—I got up and saw him running—my face was very much swollen, my eye cut, and my cheeks, chin, and lips swollen—I was perfectly sober—I suffered great pain in my jaw, which is not right now—a doctor attended me five days while I was confined to the house—I am an engineer—this mark on my forehead is the result of the attack—I still feel ill; heshifted my jaw a little on one side—it has not affected my ability; I can carry on my trade—on 30th March about 1.30, I saw the prisoner in the Liverpool Arms with fourteen or fifteen men—I stood in the bar five or six minutes to make sure of him, and came out and told the detective, who went in and took him in custody.
The prisoner. He has made a mistake—I was at home indoors at the time.
JOHN DODD (Detective Sergeant). I am stationed at Canning Town—on 30th March Hudson pointed the prisoner out to me in the Liverpool Arms—he touched him and said—"This is the man that knocked me down and robbed me in the Liverpool Road last Sunday night"—I told him I should take him—he said, "You have made a mistake"—at the station he said, "On Sunday night? Oh! where was I on Sunday night?"
Witness for the Defence
Cross-examined. He sometimes comes home after I have gone to bed—I looked at the clock when he came home; it was hanging on the kitchen wall—my husband was in the house; he is not here—I am quite sure it was not 11.30; it was 11.15.
By the COURT. I was sitting up with my husband in the kitchen—our house is about ten minutes' walk from the Liverpool Road—if I told the Magistrate it was only two or three minutes' walk I did not know what I was saying—I heard that my son was in custody on the day he was taken—my clock is rather fast sometimes; it is sometimes rather slow—I do not know whether the prosecutor was knocked down at 11.30, two or three minutes from my house, but I heard him say so—I cannot tell at what time my son came home on the Sunday before this, or on any night in the week before Easter Sunday, but I am able to tell on Easter Sunday because I let him in—he did not seem to have been running when I let him in; he sat down, and had his supper, and took up a newspaper.
Prisoner's defence. I was not there. I had never seen the man before ht gave me in charge, and I did not know what it was for.
JOHN DODD (Re-examined). It would take about seven minutes to walk from 92, Liverpool Road, where the jubilee was going on, to 35, Forty Acre Lane; I have tried it—the watch and chain have not been traced.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRANTHAM Prosecuted.
BENJAMIN SHARLING WESLEY . I lived at 49, Dare Road; I now live in Walpole Street—two days after Christmas I left the house at 3.55—I shut the door and it locked—I returned on the 31st and found a mark by the latch—I sent for a constable, and went in and found the parlour door open, and a lamp gone from a drawer—I found my bedroom in confusion, and missed two watches, a gold chain, a silver chain with a cross, anchor and heart on it, and five rings, one gold, one silver, and one plated; I also missed studs, a pendant, some spoons, and other articles—this watch and chain and trinkets are my property (Produced).
EMMA STERN . I am the wife of George Stern, of George Street, Plaistow—Spencer has lodged with us nine or ten years, and since August last Woolley used to come and see him—they were both lodging with me on April 5th, when a constable came and arrested them both—on December 28th they had a watch, a gold chain, a silver chain, some trinkets, and two pairs of earrings—among the trinkets there was a heart, anchor, and cross—I asked Woolley where he got them—he said, "In the Lord Gough Public-house"—I said, "I should like the earrings"—he said, "You may have them"—Woolley asked me to pledge the watch and chain—I said, "No "—Spencer said, "It is all right," and I pledged the watch and silver chain in my own name at Mr. Hammett's, and took the other to the next shop up Bartlett Lane—they gave me 1s.—after I came out of the pawnshop I met both prisoners, and handed them the money; I had promised to meet them—Spencer was at home up to mid day on the Wednesday; he then went out to collect some money, and returned in the afternoon when I was out; he was at home when I got home between three and four—I took Spencer up a cup of tea on Saturday, and asked him for some money—he said, "Look in my purse"—I said, "There is no money"—he said, "Are the trinkets there?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "They belong to Mr. Woolley."
Cross-examined by Spencer. I had not seen Woolley at my house for ten days—on Wednesday the 17th you assisted me in packing up some things and placing them in a trap in which there was a baby—I went out between one and two, and returned about 8.30; you were then sitting in the garden, and quarrelled with me because I had locked you out—you took your meals with us—you had not given me any money for a long time—you were in my debt; you only gave me 25s. two weeks before Christmas—I never saw you with any jewellery before—you came home
intoxicated very late on Thursday—I was sitting up, and my husband was at work—you told me on Sunday morning that the things were Woolley's—I never knew you disgrace yourself—Woolley had lodged with me a month on the day he was taken.
Re-examined. Whatever time Spencer came home he did not go out after tea, which we had between four and five—it would take me half an hour to walk to Dacre Road from George Street, but I am a very slow walker; it is about half a mile.
ELIZABETH BEAUMONT . I live at Baxter Road, Plaistow—I spent last Christmas with Mrs. Stern—the two prisoners were lodging with her—I left on the Wednesday after Christmas, and Spencer left about an hour before me—I told him I was going home—he said, "Don't go, Mrs. Beaumont; when I come home I will treat you"—I got home about two o'clock—I saw Woolley with Spencer; I have seen them together often—they came again in January several times, and about January 22nd my husband asked me to pawn something for the prisoners; I refused.
Cross-examined by Spencer. You knew my husband first when you were at Stringer's—my husband was then collector at Stringer's; he is not now—I pawned a walking-stick.
Cross-examined by Woolley. You called on my husband for some money, but did not get any—you called every day; you never asked me to call anywhere.
FREDERICK DAVIS . I am a jeweller, of 10, Richmond Street, Plaistow—about January 11th Woolley brought me a gold stud, and an anchor, cross, and heart—another man was with him, he was not like Woolley.
Cross-examined by Woolley. I had not known you before; I recognised your photograph.
LEWIS LIDDLELTOWN (Detective Officer). I took Woolley on April 5th at Mrs. Stern's—I remained there till nine p.m., when he came in, and said, "I am going to take you for breaking into 47, Upton Manor, and stealing articles of jewellery"—he said, "I don't know what you are taking about"—Dane Road is a mile and half or two miles from George Street.
Cross-examined by Woolley. I told you that various articles of jewellery were stolen—I did not tell you I had found any pawn-tickets—all the articles were read over to you at the station, and you made no reply—I took a receipt-book from you and fifty-six pawn-tickets; I have not found out that they were wrong.
Spencer, in his statement before the Magistrate and in His defence, said that he was not out of the house on Easter Sunday night, but on Wednesday, morning, the 28th, Woolley brought the things, and asked if he thought MRS. STERN would pledge them, and that he did not know where Dacre Road was. Woolley stated that he bought the watch-chain, trinkets, and ear-rings, at the Gough Public-house, of a man named Ted
Hampton, for 35s., and told Spencer that he had bought them out of his collector's money, and asked Mrs. Stern to pawn them in her right name and address, which he would not have done if he thought they were stolen.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. MAURICE Prosecuted.
JOHN HADSLEY . I am in the employ of Mr. Brown, a fishmonger, of 43, Layton Road—on April 13th, about 10.30, the prisoner came in for two pennyworth of fish, and gave me a shilling; I said, "This is a bad one"—he made no reply—Mr. Brown took it out of my hand, and asked the prisoner where he got it—he said, "From the Bridge Tavern"—I do not know such a place—he said he lived at Weymouth Terrace, Mile End—the prisoner and Mr. Brown went out together.
JOSEPH BROWN . I am a fishmonger, of 43, Layton Road—on April 13th, about 10.15, I saw the prisoner in the shop, and heard my man say, "This is a bad one"—he said, "I got it from the Bridge House"—I said, "Where do you call the Bridge House?"—he said, "Over there"—I said, "Where do you come from?"—he said, "Weymouth Terrace, Mile End; if you do not believe it, come with me to the Bridge House"—he went a little way, and then attempted to get away—I pulled him back to the shop by his collar, and gave him in custody.
ZACHARIAH GILES (431 K). Mr. Brown gave the prisoner into my charge for attempting to pass a bad shilling—he said, "I got it across the road at the Bridge House," pointing, "or the Railway Tavern"—I took him into custody, and found on him a florin, two shillings, two sixpences, and threepence—there is no Bridge House in the neighbourhood.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not say, "The house on the bridge; I don't know the name of it"—there is a bridge there, and a public-house at the foot of it, the Railway Tavern—Mr. Brown told me when he gave you in custody that you tried to get away, and he said so before the Magistrate.
JOHN DOGGETT (Police Sergeant). On April 12th I was in charge of the station when the prisoner was brought in and charged with uttering a counterfeit shilling; I took down his statement in writing—he said, "I tendered the shilling for two pennyworth of fish, and he took it to his master, and he took it to the other end of the counter; the gentleman came running, and I told him if it was a bad one I was very sorry; I had not had it more than ten minutes; I got it at the Bridge Tavern; I will go there with you; he got half-way, and then turned back, and said, 'I shall not go any further with you"—there is no Bridge Tavern, but there is a tavern at the bridge.
Cross-examined. I do not remember Mr. Brown saying to me that you tried to get away, but he mentioned it in his evidence—you gave one address to the prosecutor, and to me "No fixed abode."
Prisoner's Defence. I took it in change for a half-sovereign, and paid my brother 3s. out of it; I had not had it ten minutes; I offered to show them where I got it, but was given into custody—I refused to go back unless they took me into the tavern—I never made any attempt to get away; he did not hold me; I was walking by myself.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
453. WILLIAM POTTER (22) , Stealing a bicycle, the property of George Wilson. Upon the opening of the Counsel for the prosecution, the RECORDER considered that there was no proof of any attempt to steal, and as the prosecutor had offered to let the prisoner off if he apologised, directed a verdict of
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
HENRY PEMBROKE . I shall be twelve years old on 14th July next—I lived with my father (the prisoner) and my mother, at 54, Queen Street, Deptford—on Friday, 23rd March, I came in at five minutes past six—mother came in at half-past two—I was at the top of the street, near the tram, where she got out, just outside the Noah's Ark—she went home—I did not speak to her; I was on the other side of the road—I went home at six o'clock first—I found my father lying down on the bed, and my mother lying by the fireplace, with a pillow at her head—father was asleep—mother had just woke up—she said she had the headache—she gave me a halfpenny, and sent me out—when I came home at six o'clock she was standing at the door—she said, "Your father wants you"—I had been out to have a game at tipcat—when I went in, father said, "I told you to keep out, and go to the public-houses when they open"—that was to sell winkles, and because I had not taken enough money father said, "Sit down, and have some tea, and go out again"—mother poured me out a cup and cut me a slice of bread and butter, and then she poured out for herself a cup of tea, and then father said, "Make haste and go out with the winkles"—mother said, "Give the boy time"—father said, "You are worse than what the boy is," and then he up with his hand and hit her on the left side of the face, and knocked her off a chair—the chair fell on top of her—then father kicked her on the right side—then he dragged her by the front hair of her head to the door—she put her hands up, and said, "Oh!"—then I went out with my winkles—I came in about 9 or 9.30—mother was lying on the floor, dead—they were just going to wash her and lay her out—I said at the Greenwich Police-court, "I could not tell where he kicked her," but I remember now where the kick went, and "I ain't telling no lies"—when he kicked her he only said, "Get up"—he was sober then—I said before the Coroner, "My father had had too much beer, and he has been drunk ever since"—I did not then remember when he came home; I could not fetch it into my head then—the kick was not close to her feet.
Cross-examined by Prisoner. When mother went to Billingsgate to buy shrimps she brought winkles—she said she had been drinking with a man at a public-house that you mostly used, but mother went to market live times out of six, and you said, "We will cook winkles on the Sunday"—you ordered me to stay out till two o'clock—you
did knock chair and all down—my grandmother took me home, because she said you were going to belt me.
Re-examined. Mother was dragged away from the corner to the door, about a yard away.
AMBROSE JAMBS RUSSELL . I am a registered medical practitioner—I practise at Deptford—I saw the dead woman between 7.30 and eight on Good Friday—she was sitting on the floor, propped up by a chair, the chair being against the door—she was dead—I examined what could be seen of her at the time, but did not disturb her—I looked at her face and her neck—there were no marks of violence—the face was quite pale—I should have expected to have seen a mark if the blow was at all severe—I took the temperature—I could not see from appearances what condition she was in as to sobriety just before her death—I saw the prisoner—he had had a good deal of drink, but was able to walk about, and he knew what he was doing—he told me some story about his wife having gone to market and having had a drink with somebody—I could not give a certificate—I made a post-mortem examination the following Monday—externally, on the abdomen, there was the usual greenish discoloration, but no marks of violence—I did not notice anything special about the hair—internally all the organs were rather soft, and some congested—the only one that had any definite sign of disease was the heart; that was small; the wall was thin, and the mitral valve diseased—that would indicate that the person had a weak heart, and would probably be more liable to heart failure—I considered death was due to syncope—what the cause of the syncope was I had no means of ascertaining—I should say the woman had been a drinker, not necessarily a drunkard, but she had had a lot of beer—the stomach was full—it was not inflamed in any way—if the blow had been severe you would expect the same change to go on as in life, but if not severe you might not have a mark.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
456. JAMES MASON (28), and WILLIAM DUFFY (24) , PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Sallon, and stealing tablecloths and other articles; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Meek Clarke, and stealing an overcoat and other goods; also to having been convicted of felony; Mason**† in November, 1892, at this Court, in the name of William Maxwell, and Duffy†* in June, 1887.
The officers in the case stated that it was believed the prisoners had committed a dozen burglaries, at least, around London. MASON— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. DUFFY— Five Years Penal Servitude.
MR. BROWN Prosecuted.
marriage of the prisoner to Selina Mills—I witnessed the register—they have lived together since. (The certificate was produced.)
Cross-examined. I last saw her about nine years ago, when she brought her baby over—I married her half-sister.
RICHARD HOWELL (Sergeant R). I arrested the prisoner on 18th April as he was liberated from Strangeways Prison—I said, "I am going to arrest you on a warrant for bigamy"—he said, "I am not very much surprised"—his wife, Selina, came up and said, "You cannot blame me for this; you have brought this trouble on yourself"—he said, "Yes, I know I have wronged you, I am sorry"—on the way to London he said, "I have written three letters to my wife Selina, and she has only answered one"—I produce the certificate of his marriage on 11th March; 1893, to Alexandra Taylor.
ALEXANDRA TAYLOR . I live at 90, Brightfield Road, Lee—on 11th March, 1893, I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner, at St. Alphage Church, Greenwich—he had previously told me that he had been a widower for ten years; that his wife died in the Lying-in Hospital, and he took me to the City Road Lying-in Hospital and showed me an entry of his wife's death in 1882—I thought that referred to his wife, and believed he was a widower—I should not have married him if I had known he had a wife living at the time—I had a child on 5th March, and three weeks after my confinement I heard from my parents of his wife being alive—I said to the prisoner, "When you married me, did not you marry me as a widower?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "And did not you take me to the Lying-in Hospital to show me it better there that you were a widower?"—he said, "Yes, I was a widower then"—he came again, when he got work, for his clothes, and I had parted with them, as I was left with my baby, and was quite destitute—he went away on 28th March, and I only saw him now and again when he came for what he wanted—the prisoner was married three times, I being his last wife—the first wife died in March, 1882—he never mentioned to me about the intermediate wife he had had—he left me destitute—these letters are in the prisoner's writing. (These were letters of July 4th, 1892, and April 23rd, 1894, addressed to the prisoner's wife Selina; the latter dated from Holloway Prison expressed his sorrow at the way he had treated her.)
Cross-examined. I have known you since September, 1892—we kept company for six months before we were married—a person came to me before our marriage and said you were married, but could not give any proof—I told you of it, and then you took me to the Lying-in Hospital, and showed me the entry of your first wife's death—they made a copy of the entry, and gave it to me, and this is it: "Mrs. E. Garland died of violent and sudden congestion of the lungs, March 4th, 1892"—a letter came to my mother's house where I was living at the time addressed Mr. Garland, care of Miss Taylor; I gave it to you—my mother came and broke the news to me—she did not leave the baby with you—she took me out to recover, as I nearly fainted—we lived happily up till the last three months—owing to roguery and betting you were out of work—you had left your trade union some years—I agreed to your paying seven shillings or eight shillings a week towards the child's maintenance—you were industrious when in work—I never saw your correspondence with your wife; you would have it sent elsewhere
—you took all you possessed—the police came and asked me to take your tools—you sent me what you had when you were in custody—I was left unprovided for—I was a cook before I married—your brother-in-law wished us every happiness—I never heard him ask you whether you had heard from your wife—I left Brighton because it did not agree with me, and came away with you, and was married—the last three months I wanted nourishment and everything for my confinement.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I wish to say I am extremely grieved and sorry to have brought this trouble on Miss Alexandra Taylor and her friends. It never would have happened if my wife had not absolutely refused to cohabit with me. I plead extenuating circumstances, and ill endeavour at the earliest opportunity, as far as I am able, to repair the damage I have done."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he could not trace hit wife, who had refused to communicate with him, and Taylor had agreed to their keeping his previous marriage secret.
GUILTY .**— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
459. ALFRED WILSON (19) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Reynolds Stuch with intent to steal; also to breaking into the dwelling-house of William Dunkley and stealing a brush and other articles, having been convicted on May 1st, 1893. He had been convicted four times in four years.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted
MARY ANN CLARK . I am a widow, of 13, Orange Street—on April 9th, between eight and nine p.m., I was in my kitchen, and the prisoner came in and asked me where her sister was—I told her she had just gone out—she picked up a bottle and struck me over the eye and ran into the street—I put my apron over my eye and ran out to a policeman—I had not the lemonade bottle in my hand at all, she brought it in under her apron.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I had not seen you for weeks, and never had an angry word with you—I did not ask you for twopence, and
call you names because you did not give it to me—I did not strike you with the bottle, I never saw it till you took it from your apron.
By the COURT. I cannot tell why she did this, she did not seem drunk—this was in the kitchen of a lodging-house, but she does not live there.
HUGH CALLAFORD SHARP . I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—on April 9th, about nine p.m., the prosecutrix was brought in with her eye hanging out, and the lid almost cut away—she was drunk, and I do not think she knew what she was doing; she walked fairly steady—the injury could be caused by a bottle—she also had a blow on the back of her head that was not done with a bottle—the injury to the eye could not be done by a bottle in the prisoner's hand being jerked up, it would require considerable force—she is all right now, but her eye is gone.
MURDOCK MCDONALD (192 M). On April 9th, at 9.20 p.m., I was on duty, and the prosecutrix came up and complained to me—I saw the prisoner running about thirty yards away, and ran after her and brought her back, and the prosecutrix charged her with assaulting her with a bottle—she said, "You are supposed to be a fighting woman, but you have got your match this time"—a constable brought the bottle to the station—the prisoner said to one of the witnesses, "I will knock your eye out when I get out"—I could not tell whether the prosecutrix was drunk, because she was excited, being in great pain, but she spoke sensibly.
ELLEN CARNABY . I saw this assault—the prisoner's sister and another woman had been fighting, and went out to have a drop of ale—the prisoner came in and said, "Where is my sister?"—she said, "Come out, and I will show you," and the prisoner struck her on her head with a bottle—I went to the station, and the prisoner said that, when she came out, she would cut my other eye out—I have lost one eye—the bottle was broken at the top of the street—I did not see her break it.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that the prosecutrix struck her first with a bottle, and she knocked her arm up, and the bottle struck the prosecutrix's face, and that the prosecutrix was a most dangerous woman, and had done twelve months for stabbing.
M. A. CLARK (Re-examined). Five or six years ago my husband and I got convicted and sentenced for stabbing; that was the first row I ever had.
GUILTY .**— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MONEY Prosecuted.
FRANCIS NEWSON . I keep the Culvert Arms, Battersea—on April 9th I went to the South London Music Hall, and came out at midnight—I had a glass coming out, I was waiting for a tram, and saw the prisoner und three or four other chaps—they caught me under the chin, causing me to bite my lip through, and took my watch, value £30, and my chain—I was not drunk, but I had had a glass or two.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw three or four running at the end of the street—I kept my eyes on you till the policeman caught you—I did not tell the constable I did not know you more than the dead—I chased you, calling "Stop thief!" and the policeman caught you within a few yards.
Re-examined. I was attacked in London Road—I saw some people go down a turning out of the London Road; the prisoner went up a turning, and was arrested.
ALBERT HATTON (196 M). On April 10th I heard cries of "Murder!" from Skip ton Street, and saw the prisoner, followed by the prosecutor—I caught the prisoner, and the prosecutor said, "This is the man that, stole my watch"—I asked him what he was running for—he said he did not know.
Cross-examined. You were not standing still—you did not say that you were running after the man—I saw the prosecutor only, running with you.
Re-examined. The prosecutor did not say he did not know the prisoner any more than the dead—he said "That is one of the men who stole my watch and chain."
WALTER FRANCIS LONG . I live at 107, Forest Road, Dalston—on April 10th, about midnight, I was in London Road, heard a cry of "Police!" and "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoner come out of a turning as fast as he could, and a policeman behind him, who caught him at the corner of Lancaster Street—he said, "It is not me, constable; I have not got it"—the prosecutor charged him with stealing his watch and chain.
Cross-examined. You were running when the constable caught you—one or two people came up just afterwards.
The Prisoner, in his statement and in his defence, said that he heard a cry and saw the prosecutor on his hands and knees, and the constable charged him and that the prosecutor was drunk at the station, and sat, down on a chair.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY**to a conviction at Southwark on November 16th, 1891.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. TILL Prosecuted.
JOHN POTTER (582 B). On March 31st, about 10.30 p.m., I entered the house and saw the prosecutor in the w.c. in the back yard, with a wound on the right side of his cheek—the prisoner was in the yard—the doctor was attending to the wound—I spoke to the prosecutor; he did not answer—I asked the prisoner how she came to do it; she said that he did it with a table-knife—the doctor sewed his face up, and I removed him to the hospital.
JOHN WINZAR (Detective Sergeant V). On April 1st, at 4.30 a.m., in consequence of what I was told, I went to 34, Henry Street, and knocked at the door—the prisoner came down, dressed, apparently in a dazed condition, as if suffering from drink—I said, "Where is that knife that you say your husband cut his throat with?"—she said, "I don't know anything about a knife; he must have fallen through the window"—I said, "Let me see the kitchen"—I went there, and found the floor covered with blood, which had spirted on to the table—a number of clothes were lying about, saturated with blood, as if the floor had be cleaned with them—she said, "That must be where he cut his throat"—I examined the window, and found that the glass was lying outside—Stevens took the knife from the mantelpiece, and said, "Sergeant, this knife is bent, and there is blood
on it"—I said to her, "What about the knife?"—she said, "I don't know"—I said, "Where is the little one?"—she said, "Across the road, with a friend"—I made inquiries, and returned and said, "Your husband says you stabbed him; you will be taken to the station; you need not make any answer unless you like"—she said, "Well, I was indoors when he came in; I had no cause to do it."
Cross-examined. I have not said that you said that he cut his throat—I said, "Where is the knife you say your husband cut his throat with?"
JAMBS GREENSMITH . I live at 19, Henry Street, Battersea, immediately opposite the prosecutor—on March 31st, about 4.10 p.m., I saw the lodger enter—he knocked three or four times—the prisoner opened the door, and said. "Come in; my husband has cut his throat"—my wife ran across, and came back in a minute or two, and called me, and I saw the prosecutor, as if he had fallen back in his chair, and the prisoner beside him, lifting him up—I said to him, "How did you do this?"—he said, "I did not do it; my b—wife did it"—I saw this knife on the table, bent rather more than it is now—I did not notice whether there was any blood on it.
HENRY WILLIAM WRIGHT . I am the prisoner's husband, and live at 34, Henry Street, Battersea—I am a carman—we have been married six years and two months—on 31st March I went home about 7.45 p.m., and did not find my wife at home—I had a wash and came out, and went up the York Road, and found her in a public-house, the worse for drink—she knew what she was doing—I said, "If you had been at home we might have gone out and done our shopping"—she said, "I daresay you have been home, and I daresay you have been somewhere else"—I said, "Leave off; don't make a noise"—we went home together—this tavern is ten minutes' walk from our house—she said, "I daresay you have been home, and have been somewhere else," and punched me in the face—I gave her a back-handed smack, and she ran round and got a knife and stabbed me—I put my hand up, and it cut my finger—she had slightly stubbed me before—she has struck me with knives and iron bars.
The Prisoner. I do not recollect anything about it, I was so mad with drink.
JEFFREY WARD THOMPSON . I am house surgeon of St. Thomas's Hospital—on April 1st, about 1 a.m., the prisoner was brought in in a state of collapse, with a bandage round his head saturated with blood, and an incised wound two and a-half inches long, clean cut—all the parts round were distended, showing that bleeding was going on underneath—the facial nerve was cut; I examined it with my finger; it went down-wards; I put my other hand into his throat and my two fingers met—I tried to join the nerve, but could not, so I plugged the wound and applied bandages—he went on well till the third day, when the wound suppurated, and paralysis ensued—he will be disfigured for life—he was so bad that he did not feel my taking hold of the arteries, which would cause great pain—it was not possible to have been caused by falling upon glass—this knife would do it, and it suppurated, which glass wounds never do.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry for what I have done.; I was mad with drink; I cannot remember anything about it."
GUILTYRecommended to mercy by the JURY— .
Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL Prosecuted.
ERNEST WRIGHT . I am a waiter, of 5, Ash Street, New Kent Road—on April 5th, about one a.m., I was in Westminster Bridge Road—two men came up and caught me by my throat—the prisoner was one of them—they nearly strangled me, and when I was down the prisoner kicked me on my head—they nearly tore my pockets out, and one of them took 14s. 7d.—they ran away, leaving me on the floor—I followed the prisoner, and never last sight of him—I met a policeman, and said in the prisoner's presence, "This is one of the men who knocked me down and robbed me; he held my throat, but which took my money I cannot say"—the prisoner ran away, and was stopped, and spoke to a woman, and I saw him pass something to her, going into the station—I never lost sight of the prisoner—he held me by my throat, and the scars are there now.
Cross-examined. You were hanging about there all the evening—I never lost sight of you—I did not give you in charge, because there was no policeman—I had been drinking, but I was sober.
SIDNEY WHITE (61 L). I was on duty—Wright made a statement to me—I went with him, and he pointed out the prisoner—Wright repeated the statement in his presence; he said "You have made a mistake, governor; I know nothing about it"—Wright had been drinking; the prisoner appeared perfectly sober—he was walking away sharp when I went up to him—his back was towards me when the prisoner was talking to me, but if he looked round he could have seen me; he was thirty or forty yards off'—there was a woman by his side—I did not see the other man; he had gone before I got the information—the prosecutor appeared to have been drinking, but he knew what he was about—I have not the least doubt he was capable of recognising the man at the time.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Southwark on January 11th, 1892.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
ATHELSTAN BRAXTON HICKS . I live at 20, Lupus Street, Pimlico, and am coroner for the south-west district of the County of London—on 10th March I opened an inquiry at the Coroner's Court, Lambeth, upon the body of Albert Augustus Robertson, aged four months and three weeks—on that day the prisoner was called as a witness, and also William Thomas Atkinson—she was sworn—I took down her evidence as she gave it in answer to questions I put to her—I produce the original depositions—she gave her name as Emily Atkinson, and she said, "I am the wife of William Atkinson, an amanuensis living at 8, Offley Road, Brixton. I and my husband placed this child with the last witness. The child was a. child of a cousin of my husband. Her name was Kate Robertson, and the father's name was John Robertson. The mother was confined in the York Road Lying-in Hospital. She had been staying previously with me. Her husband had left her five months previously to October, 1893. They had been living in Falmouth Road, Newington. The
mother was too ill to take the child to the last witness. She left at the same time as, the child. She went with a friend to Clacton-on-Sea. I had a letter from her once, but I have not kept it, and do not know the address. I have heard she is dead, but I am not quite sure. She was about twenty-six years old. I do not know where she is, and I have not seen her since she left the Lying-in Hospital"—I did not believe the story, and I adjourned the inquest, and told my officer to make inquiries—on 17th March the inquest was resumed—the prisoner was not sworn again; her previous oath covered the whole inquiry—she gave evidence on that day, after Kate Robertson had given hers; she was not present when Kate Robertson gave hers—I asked the prisoner her name again, and she gave it as Emily Marian Thomas, alias Atkinson—she said "I have been living with William Thomas Atkinson for the last ten years. Kate Robertson is my daughter by my late husband, William Thomas. I was present when she married at Trinity Church, Trinity Square, South-wark, on October 28th, 1883. Her husband left her two years ago. She was then living at 2, Crudeson Road, and, after her husband left her, I and Mr. Atkinson went and lived with her there, and a few months after we all moved to 8, Offley Road. She went to the Lying-in Hospital on 14th October, 1893, and the deceased child was born the same day; she left on 21st October, 1893, and I took the deceased to Mrs. Baldock, and the mother went straight to 8, Offley Road, Brixton, and has been there ever since, with the exception of stopping a day or two with friends. It is untrue that I ever thought she was dead; it is untrue that she was a cousin of Mr. Atkinson; it is untrue that I ever thought the deceased child was the child of Kate Robertson's husband. My daughter and her husband never lived in the Falmouth Road. It is untrue that she went to Clacton-on-Sea on leaving the Lying-in Hospital; it is untrue that she ever wrote to me from Clacton-on-Sea after she was confined. The children have been there since last September"—by the Registration Act of 1874, it is the duty of the coroner and the coroner's jury to inquire into all the facts necessary for the Registrar—it is not only our duty to record the death, but other facts as well—in the case of an adult we record his occupation or profession; in the case of a child of tender years we record its father's name if it is legitimate, its mother's name if it is illegitimate, with its age, sex, and the date of its death.
Cross-examined. The oath I administer to my jury is that they shall well and diligently inquire, and true presentment make of all such things as shall be brought before them touching the death of the person before them—I have neverseen the birth certificate—when the prisoner came back on the second occasion, she explained that what she had said before was not true, and she then gave what I have reason to believe was a true account.
KATE ROBERTSON . I live at 34, South Island Place, Brixton—I am the wife of William Robertson, to whom I have been married about ten years—I saw him last about two years ago—he robbed his employer and left the country—I have had one or two letters from him since, with the post-mark "New York"—the prisoner is my mother—I went to live with her at 8, Offley Road, after my husband left me—she was then living with Mr. Atkinson as his wife, and was known as Mrs. Atkinson—I was living there at the beginning of October, 1893, when I went into the Lying in Hospital, and was confined of the child, Albert Augustus Robertson—
I went back to live at 8, Offley Road, on leaving the hospital, and I continued to live there, with the exception of a day or two now and then, up to the time of the inquest—the child had been put with a Mrs. Baldock to be taken charge of, either by Mr. or Mrs. Atkinson—I considered it right for him to do so because he was the father of the child, the same man as lived with my mother—I heard of the child's death—I was living at 8, Offley Road, on 10th March, when the prisoner went to the inquest—I don't think I saw her that morning, but I saw her the day before—I never lived at Falmouth Road, Newington—I am no relation of Mr. Atkinson—my husband's name is not John, but William—I have been to stay at Clacton-on-Sea—I have written to my mother from there before October—I have only been there for a day since October, just to see my other two children who are there—my mother is living now somewhere in Clapham.
GEORGE BALDWIN (Sergeant L). I am coroner's officer for the Lambeth District—in consequence of instructions given me by Mr. Hicks, I made inquiries between 12th and 17th March, and in the course of doing so I went to 8, Offley Road—I saw the prisoner there in bed—I told her I had ascertained all about it; she burst out crying, and said she did it to screen her daughter—I told her I knew her daughter was living in the same house.
GUILTY.—The JURY strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy as they thought the perjury was committed under very distressing circumstances.— Discharged on Recognizances.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
ATHELSTAN BRAXTON HICKS . I am corner for the south-west district of the County of London—on 10th March I held an inquest on the body of the child Albert Augustus Robertson—the prisoner was called and sworn as a witness—I took down this statement, as he gave it in answer to questions I put to him: "I am an amanuensis, living at 8, Offley Road, Brixton. I knew the mother and father of the deceased. The father's name was William Robertson, a mercantile clerk. He lived in Falmouth Road, Newington. It was about in the middle of the street His wife was a cousin of mine on the mother's side. They have been married eight or nine years. She was about twenty-eight years old. After her confinement she was very ill, and my wife said she would do what she could for the child, as I was in hopes of getting someone to adopt it. She left the hospital fourteen days after confinement, and went with a friend unknown to Clacton-on-Sea"—there was an adjournment to 17th March, and in the interval inquiries were made—on the 17th prisoner was recalled, and said, "The witness who called herself Emily Atkinson on the first holding of this inquest is not my legal wife. I have a wife and one child now alive. I have been separated from my wife eleven years, I have since been living with the person called Emily Atkinson, whose right name is Emily Marion Thomas, she was then the widow of William Thomas, and had one daughter, who is the last witness, Kate Robertson. I knew her husband, William Robertson,
well. It was two years next July when he went away. It was untrue when I said on the previous occasion that he had left five mouths before October, 1893; it was untrue when I said that his wife was a cousin on my mother's side; it was untrue when I said that after leaving the Lying-in Hospital she went to Clacton-on-Sea. It is a fact that she went home straight to 8, Offley Road, Brixton, where I live. I have known where she has been ever since, and I had never any reason to suppose her dead. I am the father of the deceased child"—I went through each statement, and said, "Are they true?"and he said, "No, they are untrue."
Cross-examined. You asked me if you were bound to answer the question, who was the father of the child?—I had no animus against you, I never saw you before—I was not embittered against you; I said I was exceedingly annoyed with you for giving me all the trouble you had—the jury made a representation that I should lay the facts before the Public Prosecutor, in order that there might be a prosecution for perjury.
GEORGE BALDWIN . I am a coroner's officer for Lambeth—after 10th March I made inquiries, and in the course of them went to 8, Offley Road—the prisoner answered the door—I went into the parlour with him, and asked if he had any further information to give me about the child's death—he said, "No"—I asked if Mrs. Atkinson was in—he said, "She is in bed"—I said, "I should like to see her"—he said he would ask her—I said, "You had better ask her as Mrs. Thomas; I have found out all about it"—he said, "You have?"—I said, "Yes"—I went and saw Mrs. Thomas in bed, and spoke to her in his presence—she said she had done it to screen the girl, and cried—he said he would have to go through it.
Cross-examined. I did not warn you—I told you I knew all.
The Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had grievously repented what he had done; that he had tried to save the honour of the woman by keeping back her shame; and that the mother knew nothing of it till almost the last hour.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
467. ERNEST WILLIAM SIMS (22) , to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences £3 from Robert Ainslie Redford, and £38 from Benjamin Abbott Lyon, with intent to defraud; also to a conviction* of felony in October, 1893.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Ten Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POYNTER Prosecuted, and MR. LEONARD Defended.
WILLIAM POTTER . I am a platelayer by occupation—I am now an inmate of the Richmond Union Workhouse—the prisoner is my sister-in-law—last September I went to her house to have a shelter—I left there to go into Richmond Union Infirmary, as I was ill—I left at Her house my box, containing a suit of clothes, two shirts, a silk handkerchief, two pairs of socks—there were other things left out of the box, and I gave her
the key to pack up the things in it for me, as I was too ill to do it—at the end of January I came out of the infirmary; I asked the prisoner for the key; she gave it to me—I looked in the box, and asked her where my clothes and money were gone to—the money was a postal order sent me from South Africa, that I had left in the box—she made no answer about the clothes, but she said, as to the money, that she went to the General Post Office and drew the postal order, and put the money in the box, and that she got drunk at Christmas, and lost the money—these three cotton and two silk handkerchiefs I left in the box—there was only an overcoat left in the box; all the other things were gone—she made no reply as to the clothes—I told her when I was leaving that I should take proceedings against her if she did not get the things back by such a time—I have got the suit of clothes which the policeman found at the pawnshop.
Cross-examined. I never asked her to marry me—I did not shoot at her with a pistol—I went to South Africa in 1875, and came back in 1893—I then went to live with my brother-in-law, Oliver; I paid them—after they had sucked out of me everything they could they kicked me out of doors—I had been working on the Natal Government Railway, and brought back over £100 with me—I stayed with the prisoner from September till 8th October, and I was with her part of three weeks after 31st January—I paid her no rent, but I gave her one shilling or two shillings now and then as I had it—for the last five or six years, since my brother died, I sent her £2 a month from Natal, out of charity—after my £100 was gone I raised money to meet my daily expenses, by sending things to the pawn-shop from time to time—I sometimes sent a boy with them—I never sent the prisoner—there was no arrangement as to any rent or board—I never told her she might pawn some of my things to raise money, and pay herself for my board and lodging—I only gave her the key of my box to put away my-things that were lying about—I missed the things on 30th or 31st January—the prisoners charged with stealing them on 9th February—no proceedings were taken against her till 28th March; I threatened her with proceedings if she did not get them out; if I had got them I should not have prosecuted her—I reckon I did pay her from time to time; she had a part of what I got; if I had one shilling or two shillings, and she wanted it, she had only to ask for it—when I pawned things, if she wanted anything for household expenses, I used to give her cine shilling out of the proceeds—I never told her she might pawn these things, and take some of the money for her ordinary expenses—I told her to take a week's rent (4s. 6d.) out of the postal order—she asked me to give her money for the rent, and I had this postal order for £4 in November or December—it came when I was in the infirmary—the prisoner brought me the letter, which came from Pietermaritzburg, opened—I sent the postal order, and told her to change it—she asked me to give her enough to pay her rent, or her week's rent, I won't be certain which—she pays 4s. 6d. a week—I took it she wanted me to let her have 4s. 6d.—I told her she might take it, and put the remainder in my box, because I should want it when I came out—when I came out she said she had got drunk and spent the money—I charged her with failing to account for £3 10s., because I thought at the time I would give her the 10s.—I did not tell her to take what she wanted from it.
Re-examined. From 1st September to 8th October I was living in her house and having food—I paid for that food by getting rid of my things—on 8th October I had pleurisy, and went into the infirmary—I came out on 30th January—I got out a summons against her about a week before I went before the Magistrate—I let that time elapse because I thought I would give her time to get it—I did not want to be too hard upon her—I treated it as a debt; if she had paid the money or got the clothes out of pawn I should not have gone on with the case.
MR. POYNTER staled that he did not propose to proceed further with the case. The COMMON SERJEANT concurred, as the prosecutor, when he found his property gone, did not treat the matter as a felony, and it was for the JURY to be satisfied that the woman had a felonious intention when she took the property in order to convict her.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner for stealing £3 10s.
MR. POYNTER offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 28TH MAY, 1894