CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
EIGHTH SESSION, HELD MAY 28TH, 1894.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
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AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, April 28th, 1894, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. GEORGE ROBERT TYLER, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ALFRED WILLS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., 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; HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAS. NEWTON , Esq., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., JAS. THOMPSON RITCHIE , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., and JAMES CHARLES BELL , Esq., other 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. SIXTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, May, 28th 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
471. HENRY CARTER (33) , to stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, a post letter containing two postal orders" for 1s. 6d. and 2s.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
GEORGE HENRY BENNETT , assistant medical officer at Ealing, stated that he had attended the prisoner for several attacks of epilepsy, which left him in a stupid condition for some days, but not so as to render him unfit for duty.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
474. WILLIAM LARY (54) , to stealing from the person of Ellen Wheatley a purse and £3 12s. 6d., and to a previous conviction on 9th February, 1891, in the name of William Groves. Other convictions were proved against him.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ELLIOT. Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ELLIOT. Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
477. GEORGE MEREDITH (26) PLEADED GUILTY . On burglary in the dwelling-house of >Frederick Hugo Friendley, and stealing 3s.; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of >John Gilfillan, and stealing 7s., a watch and chain, the property of >John Ambrose Penfold, and to a conviction of felony in July, 1893, in the name of William Fuller.
Other convictions in various names were also proved against him.—Four Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Monday, May 28th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
478. JAMES TOMPKINS (18) and JAMES CLINCH (17) PLEADED GUILTY . On burglary in the dwelling-house of George Kates, and stealing £1.11s. 4 1/2 d., and other articles, his property.TOMPKINS**— Fifteen Month's Hard Labour. CLINCH*— Ten Month's Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON. Prosecuted.
ROSE WOODS . I am assistant to Mr. Trew, of 82, Green Street, Victoria Park—on March 31st, about 8.45 p.m., I sold the prisoner a cake, price 4d.—he gave me a florin—I said, "This is a bad one"—he said, "Is it?"—I called Mr. Trew and gave it to him—he spoke to the prisoner.
WALTER JOHN TREW . I live at 82, Green Street, Victoria Park—on March 31st Miss Woods called me into the shop and gave me this coin—I asked the prisoner where he got it—he said, "I have been selling books and took it"—I gave him in charge with the coin—he was taken before a Magistrate, remanded for a week, and discharged.
EMMA DAVIDGE . I am barmaid at the Perseverance beerhouse, St. George's-in-the-East—on April 15th, between eight and nine p.m., I served the prisoner with a pot of ale, price 4d.—he gave me 1s.—I gave him 8d. change—he drank the ale and left—I examined the coin directly afterwards, but the governor was away, and I was not quite sure about it, and put it by itself till the landlord came in—this is it—he gave it back to me and I gave it to Davis, the barman of the Dover Castle—on May 1st I picked the prisoner out from others at the police-station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You came in first with another man on the other side, and called for two half pints of ale, and then went round to the other side and called for a pot of ale—you did not call for a second pot—I knew you as a customer, and knew your name.
EDWARD WILLIAM DAVIS . I am potman at the Dover Castle, Sutton Street, St. George's-in-the-East—on April 7th, about 7.40 p.m., I served the prisoner with some ale—I did not notice what coin he paid with—he remained about an hour and a half, and then called for another pot of ale—I do not know what coin he paid me with—he was with others—he went out about half an hour after that—I saw Mr. Day, the landlord, examining the till, and then he came and told me to be careful about the
money—I cannot tell whether the prisoner paid with coppers, but I put the money on the tray of the till; there were a sixpence and a shilling there—the prisoner returned about 11.50, and asked for half a pint of four ale and a pennyworth of shag, which came to twopence—he gave me this shilling (Produced)—I called Mr. Day and showed it to him—later on I spoke to Miss Davidge, who handed this other bad shilling to me.
Cross-examined. I cannot say whether a sailor came in and ordered several pints of ale—I gave you sixpence change, twice, but I do not know what coin you gave me—when I said that the shilling was bad you stopped till a constable came.
FREDERICK GEORGE DAY . I am manager of the Dover Castle—on April 17th Davis made a communication to me—the prisoner was in the bar, and I asked him where he got the shilling—he hummed and ah'd for five minutes, and then said he had sold some oranges and got it in change—I searched the till, and found these two bad shillings, and this is the one he tendered—there were more shillings and sixpences in the same compartment.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he took several shillings and sixpences, selling oranges.
GUILTY**. of the utterings on the 15th and 17th.— Nine Months Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE. Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH HERMITAGE . I am barmaid at the Green Dragon, King Street, St. James's—on Saturday, May 5th, between nine and ten, the prisoner came in for a small soda, price 2d.—he tendered a half-crown—I thought it was bad, but put it in the till and said nothing—I gave him 2s. 4d. change—on the Sunday morning I found this bad half-crown (Produced) in the till—on Monday, the 7th, the prisoner came again for some ale and a small soda, price 3 1/2 d.—he tendered a half-crown—I gave him the change—I saw that it was bad, and took it into the dining-room to get it tested, and went back to the bar, and the prisoner was gone—I handed the coin to the police on the Wednesday night when the prisoner came again for some ale, price three-halfpence, and tendered half-crown—I passed it to my mistress, who gave it to the potman, who went out and fetched a policeman—the prisoner asked for the change—I said I had not got a sixpence; the boy had gone to get change—the policeman then walked in, and I told the prisoner it was the third time he had passed me a bad half-crown—he said, "You are mistaken"—he was taken to the station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I am sure it was you who came on Saturday night, and I recognised you when you came again on the Monday, and when I came back from the dining-room and you had gone I looked out at the door and saw you and your friend going towards Regent Street.
MARY ANN BETSWORTH . I keep the Green Dragon, King Street, St. James's—I saw the prisoner in the house on Saturday, May 5th, at 9.30 or ten p.m., and next day, Sunday, I cleared out the till, and found this bad half-crown—I did not see the prisoner on the Monday, but I saw him on the Wednesday and received from him another bad half-crown—I handed it to the potman—that was a signal to go for a constable.
Cross-examined. The barmaid asked me if I thought you were tipsy—I said I thought not.
JOHN MCPHERSON . (Policeman). On May 9th the barman called me to the Green Dragon, and the barmaid said, "This man has passed bad money, and it is the third time he has done so"—I searched him and found five good florins and 2 1/2 d.—I took him to the station, and he was charged with uttering three half-crowns—after the charge was read over to him he said, "I had a drop of drink on Saturday; Sunday was the last day I was in the house; I don't remember being there on the Monday"—I received three coins, two of 1892 and one of 1885.
Prisoner's Defence. I was not near on Saturday and Monday; on the Wednesday night I changed a half-sovereign at a public-house, and must have got the half-crown in change.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
485. PERCY MOORE (19) , to forging and uttering an order for £10, with intent to defraud, having been convicted at Clerkenwell on August 8th, 1893, of obtaining goods by false pretences.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
486. LEWIS MCCARTHY (21) and FREDERICK EDWARDS (52) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Frederick Clarke, and stealing six tea-spoons, a silver cup, and other articles, both having been before convicted.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] MCCARTHY— Ten Months' Hard Labour. EDWARDS**— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, May 29th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
487. HENRY MITCHELL (25) and GEORGE ELLIOTT (30) PLEADED GUILTY . On burglary in the dwelling-house of Valentine Backes, with intent to steal. ELLIOTT also PLEADED GUILTY. on a previous conviction, on which he had been sentenced to Penal Servitude.— Three Years' Penal Servitude, to be concurrent with the former sentence. MITCHELL. received an excellent character from his father and former employers.—To enter into his own recognisances in £20, and one surety of £50, to appear for judgment if called upon.
488. GEORGE THOMPSON (36) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Stanbury Beck, and stealing three pairs of boots and other articles.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months Hard Labour.
489. HENRY GARDNER (63) , to seven indictments, one for unlawfully obtaining £61 17s. by virtue of a forged mortgage deed, one for forging and uttering a mortgage deed for £500, two others for unlawfully obtaining £94 1s. 6d. and other sums by like false pretences, and forging and uttering endorsements on cheques, and also for making a false declaration.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Three Years' Penal Servitude. And
MR. KERSHAW. Prosecuted.
GUILTY. of the attempt on Agnes Barton, and of an indecent assault on Alice Carter.— Judgment Respited.
MR. RICHARDS. Prosecuted; and MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, May 29th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. C. F. GILL. and MR. A. GILL. prosecuted.
THOMAS HENRY WHITFORD . I am a clerk to Golding and Co., brokers, of 3, Copthall Court—they have an account at the City Bank—I am authorised to sign cheques for the firm—I have known Trist several years as Fitzgerald, and also as Barrett twenty years ago—I have known Brown four or five months—Mr. Elam, an outside broker, shares the office—half the room is partitioned off, and I have continually seen the prisoners there together as his customers—about March 6th or 7th I noticed that Brown had shaved off his beard—on April 3rd Trist came and said, "I want to send a couple of sovereigns away to the country, will you give me a cheque for £2, and I will give you the money?"—I think he said, to his wife—I gave him this cheque for £2—on the same day the cheque-book was in a little black bag in the office, and I left it unlocked in the afternoon—I took it home at night, and missed four or five forms from the book next day, and this cheque for £40 is written on one of them—it purports to be signed by my firm—it is not signed by me—Mr. Golding has power to sign, but he never exercises it—I have compared the signature with that on the cheque which I wrote, and it looks as if the one was copied from the other.
Cross-examined by Trist. Mr. Mason bought the business of Mr. Golding—persons speculating speculate in other names than their own—though your real name is Barrett, there was nothing in your speculating as Fitz gerald.
By the COURT. The book is empty now; the cheques taken out were two cheques from the end—I think I missed them the day before they were presented.
Cross-examined by Brown. I have known you since Christmas, and we have been on friendly terms—we spent an evening together once—I told several people about this the day afterwards—I do not know whether I told you—you told me about Mr. Hamilton stealing money from you; he is a friend of mine, and came to the office—I suspected him at the time—he is a speculator—I noticed a few days afterwards that you had shaved, and thought it improved your appearance—I think Trist was at the office previous to you; he was there several times, but I did not see him there after April 4th—I noticed no change in your manner—Trist and you both joined in general conversation, but you were not companions as far as I know—you came in about twelve o'clock on April 4th—I do not remember ever paying you a cheque on my account.
By the COURT. The bag was left unlocked on April 3rd in the afternoon by accident, it may have been for three hours, or it may have been six—that was the day the cheque was drawn, and I think Trist saw where I took the book from—I took it in front of him, and wrote the cheque in his presence—if I go out in the afternoon either Mr. Elam or the boy is in charge of the office—there is a partition, but Mr. Elam would see anybody come in.
Re-examined. The prisoners were not my customers, but Mr. Elam's—I went out twice during the day, once to pay in and once with the prisoner Barrett; it was during that time that I left the bag unlocked—I understand that Brown is a coal merchant—about 10.30 or 10.45 am. on the 4th I got a message from the bank, and turned to the cheque-book, and found the cheques were gone.
THOMAS HENRY GUERIN . I live at 37, Holborn Viaduct—I have made handwriting a study—I have compared the two signatures, "Golding and Co.," on these two cheques for £2 and £40—I believe the signature to the cheque for £40 has been produced by tracing from the cheque for £2—there are some smears on the £2 cheque of the same colour as the ink with which it is written, and I imagine the thin paper was wetted, which caused the ink to run—the signatures are almost identical.
Cross-examined by Trist. I had other documents put before me—I did not see any cheques of Mr. Golding's—it is too close to be the writing of the same person.
By the COURT. Tissue paper would be put over the genuine signature while somewhat moist, and gone over with a pen, and the wet on the tissue paper has caused the ink to run a little—I say it is partial tracing because it has moved; if the two signatures are put one over the other the lines at the beginning and the end exactly correspond, but they do not exactly correspond in the middle—nobody ever signs their name exactly in the same way.
THOMAS THURTON . I am a commissionaire employed at Galbraith, Turton and Co., 8, Austin Friars—on April 4th, about 10.30 a.m., I was near the Marble Arch, and saw Brown with an envelope in his hand—he said, "Have you five minutes to spare?" I said, "Yes"—he asked me if I would take the envelope to the City Bank, and then go to 3, Copthall Buildings—I said, "What will they do at the bank?"—he said, "They
will give you some money"—he gave me this envelope open—I noticed going up the street that it was not addressed—I put my hand in, and found a cheque for £40 inside it—I went to the City Bank and presented the cheque, but did not get the money—I left it with the cashier, and went to 3, Copthall Court, but did not see the prisoner—he is the man who gave me the envelope, to the best of my belief—he had a long brown coat on, a high silk hat, and a short black beard, not as much as I have—I described him to the police—on April 26th I had instructions to go to Canning Town, and outside the station I saw the prisoner Brown walking as one of the public, and pointed him out to Inspector Downes—I noticed that he had shaved his beard off—the next time I saw him was some time afterwards, in custody.
Cross-examined by Brown. "Downes was on one side of the street, and I on the other—the man who gave me the envelope gave me no name—I was not paid for doing this—the man had a black beard—it was not thick or bushy—I fancy there was a cape to the coat—I did not notice any velvet collar or fur—it was a French hat, narrower at the top than the bottom—the conversation lasted scarcely a minute—I described you at the bank as far as I could, and also at Copthall Buildings, and Inspector Downes took it down in writing on Friday—this is it—Read, "Tall, perhaps 5 ft. 10 in or 6 ft., slight black moustache, black beard, tall stove-pipe hat"—twenty-two days elapsed before I saw this man, who I only saw for a minute.
By the JURY. The person who gave me the cheque did not say why he did not go himself—I do not think I should have gone if I had known it was a cheque—I never saw him before.
Re-examined. I did not see the hat the prisoner was wearing when he was arrested, but I saw the hat Jennings had, and I believe it was the same—I heard him speak, and I have heard his voice to-day and recognise it—he spoke to me at Guildhall, and I recognised his voice there.
THOMAS HENRY WHITFORD . Re-examined). Brown used to wear a tall hat—I have seen a long chocolate-coloured coat hanging up in the office, I don't know if I have seen him with it on; I know it is Brown's coat; I have seen him hang it up in the office.
REBECCA SIMMONS . I am assistant to Albert Goldsmith, fruiterer at 101, Bishopsgate Street—I knew Trist by his passing and repassing, not by name—on a Saturday about six weeks ago, the prisoner came with the cheque, and said, "I am in a rather great hurry; would you have any objection to send a boy to the bank with this cheque for me, to change?"—he handed me this cheque for £'2—I gave it to our boy to take to the bank; the boy came back without the money, but with a cashier from the bank—at four p.m. the prisoner came back for the money—I told him the gentleman from the bank had been down about the cheque, and not knowing his name he would not receive the money—the cheque remained at the bank—on the following Tuesday he came again and asked me to cash the cheque, and offered me 10s. for doing it—my shop is a mile or two from the bank.
Cross-examined. I asked why you did not go yourself, and you said it was because of your not wanting to be mixed up with your wife's affairs.
Clapton—I said, "I am a police officer, and shall arrest you for forgery in the City"—he said, "Which case is this?"—I said, "You will hear that when you get there"—I took him to the Old Jewry, where he was charged—during his detention two gentlemen came in, one of whom I recognised as the prosecutor, and Trist said, "Let them pay me what they owe me, and then we will have the forgery."
Cross-examined by Trist. I am quite sure you said, "Which case is this?" not "What case is this?"—this is the note I made directly I got you to Victoria Park Police-station.
FREDERICK DOWNES . (Inspector, City). I was informed of the forgery of this cheque for £40, and made inquiries about it, in the course of which I saw the commissionaire—on 26th April I went with him to Barking Road, Canning Town, and he pointed out Brown without any assistance or indication—when I noticed Brown coming up the road as a member of the public I went away from the commissionaire—I did not arrest Brown then for reasons of my own connected with the other prisoner—on 4th May I saw Trist at the Old Jewry—I told him I was a police officer, and that he would be charged with being concerned with another man not in custody in forging and uttering a cheque for £40 on the City Bank—I said, "I believe your name is William John Gentle Barrett," and then repeated the charge to him—he said, "I shall not say anything"—when we got to Bishopsgate Station I said to the inspector that five blank cheques were stolen from a cheque-book at the office of Mr. Golding, and that the prisoner on that day asked for a cheque of Mr. Whitford for £2, for the purpose of sending into the country; that he got the cheque, and then invited Mr. Whitford out to have a drink, and that it was believed during that time the cheques were stolen—Trist said, "It was not on that day that we had the drink; it was the day after. That was a drink that had been owing two or three days, and we had it then. I did not steal the cheques. Let them pay me the £7 or £8 they owe me"—the charge was entered and read to him—he made no further statement—I asked his name and address; he refused them—about seven p.m. on 8th May I saw Brown at his father's house, Effingham, Surrey—I said, "I am a police officer from London, and you will be charged, with a man in custody who has given the name of George Trist, otherwise Barrett or Fitzgerald, with forging and uttering a cheque for £40 on the City Bank on 3rd April"—he said, "I know nothing about it; at least I do. Mr. Elam told me about it, and said I should very likely get into trouble as my name was upon the cheque. Beyond that I know nothing. Who says I did this?"—I said, "A commissionaire has pointed you out to me"—he said, "But he could point out anyone. Has he given you a description of me?"—I said, "Yes; he says at the time he believes you were wearing a beard, and I know at that time you had a dark beard"—I had seen him with it—he said, "That is quite right, I took it off because my friends said it made me look old, but I know nothing about it, and I shall be able to prove an alibi"—at this time he was clean shaved about the chin—I brought him to London, and he was charged—he said in answer, "I am entirely innocent"—among Brown's effects I found an envelope containing four pawntickets relating to articles of clothing and jewellery; one was for a coat and pair of trousers—I have seen the coat; it is an overcoat—I have sent the duplicate for it to the
pawnbroker's—the tickets relate to things pledged at the end of March and beginning of April.
Cross-examined by Trist. You said when charged, "How could I have stolen them if I was out at the time?"—I said, "You are not charged with stealing them; I do not say you stole them."
Cross-examined by Brown. You said a good deal about Hamilton, but not in answer to anything I said; you said many things coming along—you did not say, "I fancied I might be brought into this case as a witness, but I did not expect this"—you might have appeared not quite to understand when I mentioned Trist's name, but I did not notice anything in particular—you seemed to know who he was at the finish—there did not seem much hesitation—you did not ask me who he was—I was never in Mr. Elam's office before 4th April—it is not a very large office; I should think it would be crowded with a dozen people—I should think there were seven or eight there when I have been, including persons connected with the office—I do not remember seeing you before 4th April; I saw you when you had a beard near Elam's office—I saw you after April 4th sitting down, speaking to Mr. Elam, once, and once leaving the office—I don't think I saw you after the 7th April—I did not pay much attention to you; I had seen what I wanted of you till I was ready—I did not see "Trist till he was arrested; I never saw you together.
Re-examined. I delayed Brown's arrest till Trist could be arrested—this is the duplicate of the coat and trousers found on Brown.
ARTHUR PENTON . (Police Officer), I took this duplicate to Mr. Bull, pawnbroker, of 25, Bishopsgate Street, tendered it there, and received this brown overcoat—it is made for a cape, but there is no cape to it. (Brown here said, "That is my coat, my Lord.")
Trist, in his defence, stated that it had not been shown that he knew anything about Brown; that he had been in the habit of going to Elam's office once in three months and losing his money; that he got the cheque for £2 to send into the country, but that circumstances prevented him doing so; that he endorsed it, because he considered he had a right to do so, and that asked Mrs. Simmons to cash it.
Brown, in his defence, said that he had subpoenaed Mr. Elam, who was not there; that he had left his great coat hanging up in Mr. Elam's office the morning before and the morning after the 4th April, and that it was possible someone had put it on and assumed his appearance, and it was a tone of mistaken identity.
FREDERICK DOWNES (Re-examined). There were three remands at Guild-hall—I attended there—on the last occasion Mr. Beard, the solicitor, appeared for Brown—I saw Elam there on two or three occasions—I heard Brown asked if he wished to call witnesses—Mr. Beard said he would not call any witnesses there.
T. H. WHITFORD. Re-examined). I know Hamilton—he does not bear the least resemblance to Brown—he is a mutual friend of both prisoners.
GUILTY .—TRIST then PLEADED GUILTY**. to a conviction at Chelmsford In 1887 of obtaining money by false pretences, when he was sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude. TRIST— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. BROWN— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
494. CHARLES REEVE (32) and GEORGE ROBERTS (43) PLEADED GUILTY . On receiving 216 yards of cloth and other goods, the property of Joseph Welch and Sons, the masters of Reeve, knowing them to have been stolen, and Reeve to stealing the same.
REEVE recommended to mercy by the prosecutors—Twelve Months' Hard Labour. ROBERTS— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, May 30th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted, and MR. ELDRIDGE. Defended.
EDWIN PRESTON . (Police Sergeant E 2). On 21st April, at eleven at night, I was called to the Charing Cross Hospital, where I saw the prisoner—I said to him, "Is the woman just brought into the hospital your wife?"—he said, "Yes"—I saw that the woman was dead, and saw the house surgeon—I said to the prisoner, "I wish you to come to Bow Street Police-station, as I wish to make some inquiries into the case"—he was in a state of semi-intoxication—he was able to walk fairly well, and spoke coherently and distinctly—when we got to the station I said to him, "I have brought you here on suspicion of causing the death of your wife"—he replied, "I have not done so. It is a serious crime. Is she dead?"—he was formally charged with murder by the inspector.
Cross-examined. I gave evidence before the Coroner; I believe on the 23rd.
FANNY BROOKS . I live at 81, Ernan Street, Westminster—on the night of 21st April, between a quarter and half-past ten, I and my husband were going through Spring Gardens—I saw the prisoner and his wife a few yards in advance—when they got to the gate of the Board of Works he said to her, "I will give you something"—they went along, still having words one with the other; they went round the corner where the new buildings are, and he struck one blow only, like that (describing)—he struck her on the chest with the fist of his right arm—she said, "Oh," and fell down on her back—they were quite close—she fell with her head towards the building—a young man and woman came up, and lifted her up on her feet—she could not stand—they took her back to Spring Gardens for a cab—I and my husband went home—I spoke to the prisoner—I said, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to strike a woman like that"—he replied, "Mind your own business; it has nothing to do with you."
Cross-examined. This was not a very dark place—it was not a dark corner—I was by the back of the prisoner; they were just in front—I gave evidence before the Coroner—I said the same there as I have here—I did not say that I did not see the blow—I saw him hold up his arm, and
he struck her—I was close by the side of them, a little bit behind—she stood on his left side, and I was on his right—I saw him raise his arm and saw his arm go round towards her, and his fist struck her—the blow was hard enough for a woman to receive from a man—I said before the Coroner that the blow was not too hard—I said I did not think it would hurt her much—I did not think he meant to kill her—he said he would call a cab—I had only had a glass of ale.
THOMAS BROOKS . I am the husband of the last witness—my attention was first called to the prisoner and the deceased wrangling—I saw him assault her—he raised his right arm, and struck her somewhere in the chest with his closed first—she exclaimed, "Oh!" and fell to the ground immediately—my wife told him he ought to be ashamed of himself for knocking the woman down—he told her to mind her own business; that this was no business of hers—our names and addresses were taken, and we were summoned to the Police-court.
Cross-examined. I said before the Coroner that I did not see the blow landed; that is true—I saw him raise his arm and give the blow, but I could not see through his body.
ELLEN VIGLER . I am the wife of William Vigler, of 27, Lewisham Street, Storeys Gate—on 21st April I was coming along Spring Gardens and heard a scream, and saw the prisoner and Mrs. Brooks—I said to the prisoner, "Can you afford a cab?"—he said, "Yes, I should like to get one"—a cab was fetched, and she was taken to the hospital—Mrs. Brooks and the prisoner were arguing about the wife—she said, "You did strike her"—he said, "I did not strike her. What if I did?"
Cross-examined. Mrs. Brooks could have heard him say that, as she stood there—I came up after the woman was down.
HARRY HARDING PHILLIPS . I was house surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital on 21st April—about eleven the deceased was brought there—she was quite dead—I looked over the body as carefully as I could—I could not then find any marks—on the following Monday I made a post-mortem with Dr. Hartley—I found signs of old disease—the top of the right lung and right side of the liver contained a large cist—one of the large blood vessels had a little patch of disease, slightly advanced—the veins of the neck were rather fuller than ordinarily—none of the things we found were sufficient to account for death, and we were forced to the conclusion that it was due to heart disease, the cause of which we could not be certain of; any sudden shock might produce it—a violent blow in the chest would be likely to bring on heart disease—I should think such a blow given within half-an-hour of death would account for the death.
Cross-examined. I saw no sign of any blow, only a bruise on the right elbow—that was not an old bruise—if it could be shown that the woman was constantly fainting, it would show that her heart was more likely to fail under any shock—I should not have judged from the look of her that she was a woman of weak heart—there was nothing to make us think that she was liable to fainting—her condition showed that she had got to her monthly periods—that would make her more susceptible—I was asked before the Coroner if a blow in the pit of the stomach would cause this death—I said I could not say—if a person was taken in this way, without any blow, I should expect to find signs of it in the heart
itself—frequent complaints of the heart and constant fainting fits would account for it.
By the COURT. Very great terror would possibly have the same effect—in a certain class of cases stoppage of the heart's action would be due entirely to a blow; in other cases it would be from shock—I think it would depend upon whether death was instantaneous or deferred.
WILLIAM DESBOROUH (42 A). On 21st April, about 10.30 p.m., I was crossing the Horse Parade and saw the deceased sitting on the ground near the new Admiralty buildings, and the prisoner standing by her side—Mrs. Brooks said he had struck his wife—he denied having struck her, and called her a lying old cat—I helped the deceased up, and told the prisoner to go home quietly—I sent for a cab, and took some names and addresses—I did not see her into the cab.
Cross-examined. The woman on the ground said, "Help me up"—she pointed to the prisoner, and said, "That is my husband; I shall be better directly"—she made no charge against him—he sent a bystander for a cab—at that time she was leaning against the boarding—she was led along to the cab—they had to go about 100 yards to get to it—she was then sensible—she never said that she had been struck.
GEORGE CUDDY . (Police, Inspector). I was in charge of King Street Station when the prisoner was brought there—he was somewhat the worse for drink—when charged he said, "I have not done so. It is a serious crime. Is she dead?"—after several minutes he said, "I am perfectly innocent"—in reply to a statement made by Mrs. Brooks, he said, "It is impossible for me to strike a violent blow with my right hand; that arm has been broken in three places"—a doctor was sent for to examine his right arm—I saw two small stains of blood on his right hand—he said, "It might be blood; she fell down; I picked her up."
Cross-examined. He denied striking her all through—I thought it necessary to send for a surgeon to examine him—I did not examine his arm—I saw the doctor examine him.
JOHN NORTON . I am deputy divisional surgeon of police—between two and three in the morning of the 22nd April I was called to King Street Police-station—I examined the prisoner's right hand and arm—he resisted a great deal—I flexed the wrist and the joints; they were all perfectly well—he said he was not there to be pulled about by me—he then complained of his right index and middle finger being fixed—there was no evidence of that before—I had heard nothing about his arm being broken; it was in perfectly good condition—the fingers were quite fit to be used—he used a certain amount of force towards me when I examined his arm—it was a fairly strong arm.
Cross-examined. I first looked at the outline of his arm—I don't know that I noticed it particularly. (The witness went to the prisoner and examined him)—there is a swelling there—the index finger is a little bent on one side; there is perfect motion enough—I am not able to say that his right arm has not been broken—I don't remember that I was told by the inspector that his arm had been broken in three places.
Cross-examined. I have known him eight or nine years—I have his discharge-sheet from the army—"Six years in the army, conduct and character
good; in the reserve six years, conduct good"—for the last ten years he has been on the staff of the Army and Navy Stores—my mother died of heart disease—I never heard the slightest complaint of his treatment of his wife.
Witnesses for the Defence.
FRANK FAULKNER . I am the prisoner's brother—two years ago he met with an accident; he fell from a distance on to a sharp box, cutting his head—it was a tremendous cut, and his arm was broken in two or three places, his finger was smashed up and bent—he was taken to the hospital—I have seen him since then—he cannot use his hand for writing as he used to do—he is left-handed, I am left-handed—I have never heard complaints of his treatment of his wife—they have frequently been to my place, and lived happily—they always went to market together—he took her to the Alhambra that night—before going there she complained of being faint—I did not hear her.
Cross-examined. I might have seen her about two months before—I lived about a quarter of an hour's walk from them—he was a clerk at the Stores; he had books to keep entries in—he was in the furniture department—he had to book things and write—he had been there ten years.
DAISY TELFER . I am a neice of the deceased—we worked together for the last nine months—I have seen her daily—she has complained to me of pains in her heart—I have seen her faint on several occasions—about two months ago she fainted three times—on the day she died she told me she felt very ill, and of pains in her side—I never heard her make any complaints of the prisoner; she always said that he was a very kind husband.
MRS. HUTCHINSON. I was a friend of the deceased—I have had many conversations with her—I saw her frequently—she complained to me that she had had rheumatic fever, and it left her with a very weak heart—on the day before her death she was not very well; her head was bad—she had rheumatism in her hands; she had not very good health—I have never heard any complaints about his treatment of her—he is a most affectionate man; they lived on affectionate terms.
MARTHA HUBBARD . I am sister of the deceased—I know she always suffered with her heart for years—I know that she has fainted away dozens and dozens of times—I always heard her speak most kindly of her husband.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "We made up our mind to go to the Alhambra on the Saturday evening. I found her not very well, and I asked her if she still made up her mind to go; we did go. She had not been there about an hour and a half when she became faint; we started to go home. Going across the park, I asked if she would not rather ride; she said she thought the park would do her good. Going along Spring Gardens she staggered; I put my arm round her to save her, and that is what Mrs. Brooks might have taken for a blow. I never gave her a blow in my life."
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment for assaulting and causing bodily harm to the same person, upon which no evidence was offered. NOT GUILTY.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted.
HENRY ALLEN . I am a carpenter, and live at Fulham—the prisoner is my nephew—he lives in the same house, with his brother and sister—on the evening of the 10th May I came home at ten—the prisoner came in at quarter-past—he went into his own bedroom, and the door was locked—I and his brother Sidney went up, we asked him several times to open the door—he said he would not for anyone—we broke it open with a chisel, and I was fired at twice directly—one bullet went through my arm, and the other at the top of my wrist; I heard about three shots afterwards—the revolver was taken from him by his brother—I was always on friendly terms with him; he is of weak mind—about an hour before this happened I asked if he had gone for a walk—I did not see anything wrong about him—f never let him have his door fastened, because he had once before tried to stifle himself by charcoal—I formed the opinion that he was not accountable for his actions—for a long time he Las not been able to go into any regular employment, he has done nothing for twelve years; he has always been friendly to me and I to him—he has passed in the family as a man wrong in his head—he once did violence to himself—his sister found a box of charcoal, besides several bottles of methylated spirits, secreted in his room.
SIDNEY SMITH . I am the prisoner's brother—I have come to the conclusion that at times he is not responsible for his actions; he has long fits of melancholy, and he has complained of his head; in 1889 he tried to kill himself with charcoal—he had no mental trouble—he has never been able to keep a situation for any length of time—I think he has been found to be incompetent, and not able to fix his mind on his work—he has always been good friends with his uncle and myself.
HENRY AVELAND ROWE . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 10, Crowdale Road, Fulham—I saw the prosecutor; he had a bullet wound in the left arm—on 17th May, a little after half-past ten in the evening, I saw the prisoner—he was depressed—my opinion was that he was certainly not capable of rightly appreciating the act he was committing—he was sullen and melancholy at the same time.
By the COURT. I should say that he knew he had wounded his uncle—I had no conversation with him, only a remark or two—he certainly appreciated the nature and consequence of the act—I had only known him by sight—I have only had experience of mental diseases in the ordinary way—I have not been his regular attendant.
WILLIAM KEEVAN (Police Sergeant T). I was called to the house in question—I found the prisoner in his nightshirt, attended by the two witnesses—I asked him why he had fired the pistol—he said, "I don't know"—he said before the Magistrate that he was not quite right—I had not known him before.
HUGH WEBB . I live at Wentworth House, Parson's Green—I have been medical attendant on the prisoner since 1889—in May and June that year I attended him—May was the time when he shut himself in his room and attempted to suffocate himself with the fumes of charcoal—I then gave a certificate for his removal to the infirmary, as a person of unsound mind, and having attempted his life, with a view to having his mental condition inquired into—they discharged him, I think, in about a fortnight—again, in July, 1892, I was called in suddenly to see him; he
had then threatened to take his own life, or to do for someone in the house—at that time he chased his sister about the house and threatened her—I then again ordered his removal to the infirmary for further inquiry into his mental condition, and he was discharged at the end of from two to three weeks—there was no suspicion of intemperance nor any disturbance at all—since 1892 I have not seen him, except meeting him out of doors—he was always in the same condition, sullen and melancholy in appearance; I was unable to get him into conversation of any kind.
BLANCHE SMITH . I am the prisoner's sister, and live in the same house—he suffers from melancholy at times; he is very well for about a week or so, and then he has another attack, which will last sometimes a week, sometimes longer—I once had to go out of the house to avoid him, being afraid of him—I have always been very careful to keep out of his way when he has had these fits on him—we are very good friends—I remember the occasion when he tried to stifle himself with charcoal; I went into his room on that occasion, and found some charcoal and methylated spirits in a box—he has occasionally made some remarks to the effect of making away with himself—he says he has had this revolver five years—I did not know that he had one—uncle and he are very good friends—we have all sympathised with him—very liked him very much, or we could not have borne it so long—it has been a source of very great anxiety.
Prisoner's Defence. I only have to say that I have suffered very much from my head; it seems natural. If I am taken care of I shall not do any harm to anybody.
GUILTY. of the act, but not being accountable for his actions.— To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
498. WALTER DANIEL TALBOT TURNPENNY (44) PLEADED GUILTY . On unlawfully supplying certain noxious things to certain females for the purpose of procuring miscarriage.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. There were other indictments against the prisoner for felony, which were ordered to remain on the files of the Court.
MR. COLLINS. Prosecuted, and MR. LYCESTER. Defended, at the request of the COURT.
JOSEPH LEE . I am a chainboy to a coalman, at 38, Montagu Road, Hackney Wick—on 21st May, about 6.30 in the evening, as I was standing at the corner of Gainsboro' Road, I saw the prisoner with a child in her arms—she walked deliberately into the River Lea, and fell down on her face, with the child underneath—I went to the boathouse opposite, and got a scull, but I could not reach her with it—I then went for a boat, and I saw the witness McKevitt get a boat and shove it to her side, and he and two men pulled her out—a constable came up—it took full five minutes to get her to—she was unconscious—they got the baby away from her first—she had hold of it the whole time—I noticed her before she jumped in, for about a hundred yards—she did not seem as if she was drunk—she was not staggering at all—I did not notice anything about her manner.
Cross-examined. It was quite light—she was about a quarter of a mile
from me when I first saw her—I watched her all the way coming along—I thought she was going to do away with herself—there were not many people about—the water there is about five feet deep; it came over her back where she lay down—she was holding the baby in her arms all the time—she was in the water four or five minutes.
WILLIAM HENRY ME KEVITT . I am a glass-blower, and live at Gainsboro' Cottages—on the 21st May, about 6.30, I was coming out of doors and saw Lee running across the road—he said there was a female in the water—I went and got a boat and brought her ashore—when we got the senses into her, she asked for her child—she had it in her arms—she kept it in her arms the whole time—she was insensible from four to five minutes.
Cross-examined. Her face was in the water—her clothing was keeping her afloat—she did not touch the bottom—the water is four or five feet deep where I got the boat up to her—it is slightly more shallow near the edge, but it is about four feet deep from where she stepped in—as soon as she was conscious she asked for her child—she seemed dazed—two doctors were called—they are not here.
JAMES WANSELL (437 J). On this evening I was near the bridge—I saw the prisoner after she was got out of the water—she seemed in a dazed condition—I at once sent for a doctor, and he ordered her to the infirmary—the child is about fourteen months old—the first thing she said was, "Where is my baby?"—at the station she paid it was through her husband leaving her that caused her to do it.
Cross-examined. I should say she had not been drinking—being in the river would tend to sober her—from inquiries made I should say she is a widow—I believe she lived at Bethnal Green—I did not smell her breath—she was vomiting all the way up the road.
By the COURT. I saw her at the station—she appeared quite sane—I law the man she had been living with; he said he had lived with her for seven years, and he left her on account of her violence.
The Prisoner before the Magistrate said: "I don't remember it."
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Judgment respited for inquiry.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, May 30th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SANDS. Prosecuted, and MR. RITTER. Defended.
JOHN WISE . (Detective-Sergeant, City). In consequence of instructions I went to 48, Milton Street, Spurgeon and Stevenson's warehouse, on 26th April, and kept observation outside for some time—about half-past five I saw the prisoner with a boy and a truck—the truck was left in a court adjoining the premises, and the prisoner went into the warehouse—I saw him come out several times carrying goods, which he placed in the track—he went away, the boy pulling the truck—I followed and stopped him in Moor Lane—I told him I was a police officer, and that anything he said might
be used in evidence—I asked him for the invoice for the goods he had on the truck—he handed me this invoice for £5 7s.—I said, "There are twice as many goods on this truck as are on this invoice"—Mr. Stevenson came up and spoke to him, and the prisoner said, "There is a slight mistake; I will take them back and have them entered up"—I stopped the truck and found on it, beyond the things on the invoice, three packets of colour, fifteen pieces of muslin, three reams of tissue paper, and two boxes of wire—Spurgeon and Stevenson are artificial florists; they issue unmanufactured goods to makers, who bring them back manufactured—I took the prisoner to the station, and afterwards I went back to the warehouse and arrested Vyeria, and he was charged with the prisoner at the station—the prisoner said he would do anything to settle the matter; he appealed to Mr. Stevenson not to press the case.
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not say he was innocent, and that he could explain matters satisfactorily—the goods on the truck were done up in packets—I knew that only half of the goods on the barrow were in the invoice, because of the bulk which had been carried out—I knew what the boxes of tray wire were, and there were two on the invoice, and four on the truck—Mr. Stevenson was close to me the whole of the time—he said to him that the goods were from Spurgeon and Stevenson—I did not hear the prisoner say at the station to Mr. Stevenson, "It is a pure mistake, and if you will be good enough to go into it we shall be able to settle it. I will swear to you there was no dishonest intention"—I did not hear the whole of the conversation, and that might have been said—the prisoner was not there when I charged Vyeria—Vyeria said, "I know there was a slight mistake. I intended to enter them up to-morrow"—I am certain the prisoner did not say he had not looked at the invoice—the prisoner said at once when I stopped him, "If there is a slight mistake, I will go back to the warehouse and have them entered up"—at the station he did not say in my presence that he was innocent—as far as I know he wished to settle it, but he did not assert his innocence—I was present when the inspector took the charge—I never heard the prisoner say he was innocent—he only said there was a slight mistake, and appealed to Mr. Stevenson to settle the matter.
HENRY STEVENSON . I am an artificial flower and feather warehouseman at Milton Street, trading as Spurgeon and Stevenson—we sell the raw material to makers to make up—up to 26th April Vyeria had been in my service for about nine years—he is about twenty one—he sold the flowers to the makers and dealers—up to that time he had borne a good character—I had every confidence in him—Nardie had been a customer for some years—on Wednesday, 17th or 18th April, Hughes said something to me, in consequence of which I communicated with the police—during the morning, up to twelve o'clock, which is our busiest time in the material department, Vyeria would call out goods to a lad at the desk for him to take down; but during the afternoon it was not unusual for him or anyone who served material to take this day-book and enter it up himself—on 26th April, about 5.30 p.m., I saw the prisoner go into the warehouse—there would be perhaps two or three people there at the time; Vyeria would be one and Galbraith, and perhaps one or two lads at the desk, entering up flowers to go into the country—the usual number of hands would not be there then because
it was tea time—I was with Wise when he stopped the prisoner—I asked him if the goods he had in the barrow all came from our place, or where they came from—he said, "Your place"—I said, "All of them?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Have you an invoice for them?"—he said, "Yes"—Wise handed me this invoice, and asked me to check them—I asked him if there was anything in the truck which was not on the invoice—he said, "No; if there is it is a mistake"—I checked the goods and found there were goods to the value of £6 15s. not charged on the invoice—I afterwards looked at the day-book, and found there goods to the amount of £5 7s. entered against Nardie in Vyeria's writing, the same as the invoice—Vyeria afterwards pleaded guilty at the Guildhall Police-court—I examined my stock on 18th, and missed a packet of lawn—the prisoner has been coming to my warehouse two or three times a week perhaps—he has come between one and two, dinner time, and about tea time, the quietest times of the day.
Cross-examined. There are two or three people about between one and two as a rule—Nardie would not pay for goods; there would be a contra account; he would bring back manufactured flowers—he generally owed us money—that is not the usual condition of our trade—people pay for the material they have with manufactured flowers, and if there is any balance to their credit they draw it—I believed Vyeria was thoroughly honest—I have no proof that he had not been honest except in the case of Nardie; I believe he was honest with that exception—he pleaded not guilty at the Police-court—when I saw him I did not tell him that if he pleaded guilty I would do my best to get him let out on his own recognisances—I said it would be best for him to speak the truth—I do not know if there is a custom of accommodation in our trade—a man bringing a portion of some goods would not be allowed to have the whole of them entered, and then bring the balance the next day—since this case started I have heard it has been done in the case of Quicksley, not in several cases—I did not cease making investigations into our books when Vyeria consented to plead guilty—I have not gone through his transactions in our books—I do not think I should have done that if his case had been tried out, to see if he was guilty in other transactions—the whole of the prisoner's business was his father's, and is so still—we trusted the father—I know R. Dunton—I cannot say if he is a perfectly honest man—I have not seen him for a long time—I have my book with entries of goods ordered through Vyeria—I have not got the delivery book of goods sent out—Hughes would not have it—sometimes customers sign for goods when they are sent out—that book could be got—I don't know if Vyeria has been going in for a long course of dishonesty with other people—if an account were against the manufacturer of artificial flowers, the seller would have no business to let him have goods and not enter them up in the book until he had brought sufficient flowers to cover the cost of the goods—in the only case I know of where it was done, previous to the goods leaving the house a list was made up and handed to the boy at the desk to enter on the Friday, and they were entered on Monday night and Tuesday morning—I have the entries here—I have not heard that before Christmas the same thing was done in the case of the prisoner—I only heard of this agreement between the prisoner and Vyeria
on the 18th of last month—from what I have been told I should think it had been going on from Christmas—I don't remember the prisoner saying at the Police-court that he was innocent, that he had no dishonest intention—when he was charged he said that the goods were to be entered up the next day, and he also sent word by the inspector that he wished to speak to me—that was before the case came on—I saw him—he said he wished to speak to me privately, and the inspector told him that anything he wished to say he would have to say in front of him—I said, "Do you wish to say anything?"—he said, "I find I am in a very serious position. Cannot this matter be settled? I will pay you any amount you like to name"—I did not say that at the Police-court, because I was not asked—I don't remember his saying he had no dishonest intention, and that under the circumstances I ought not to prosecute; I will not say he did not say it—if I had known that Vyeria had been dishonest with other people, I should not have adopted the lenient course I did with him—I don't think there was anything dishonest in Quicksley's case; the list was made out before the goods left the warehouse—Vyeria did not understand that if he pleaded guilty to this charge he would not hear anything more.
Re-examined. Nardie, senior, is in Court—no entry was made in the day-book of the Quicksley transaction on the day on which the goods went out, but the list was handed in to be entered afterwards; and when it was entered it was a correct entry—we do a fair business—we must trust our salesmen—we could not accurately check our stock.
THOMAS HUGHES . I am a salesman in the employment of Spurgeon and Stevenson; previous to this affair I was warehouseman in the artificial flowers department—I have known the prisoner for some time—I said something to somebody in the employment prior to 17th April, after one of the occasions when the prisoner had been there—I saw him come on the 26th; I did not see him served—I saw him put some things on the truck and go away.
Cross-examined. I was never under Vyeria, he was in a different department—buyers do not always check goods when they buy, unless it is a small parcel—this which the prisoner bought was a large parcel—I produce our firm's delivery signature book—I know that Mr. Dunton used to be served by Vyeria—it is the practice of our firm for a purchaser to sign this book when goods are sent out—I brought this book with me; it is a book that has been done with, and I have had it in my possession about a month—it belongs to the firm; our packer, Rutland, gave it to me—no one told me to bring it here; I have not done it for any particular reason—I have the pages marked as to which I was going to give evidence; no one told me to do that; I did it with my own free will—the goods entered here to Dunton are not entered in the day-book—another young man knew I had got this book—it is the packer's book; he has to get signatures for goods he has taken out—I find in it on 29th November the signature of Mr. Dunton, "Received one box"—that box does not appear in the day-book—I do not keep the books—I have been through them purposely to find this out—I saw them on the entry desk; we are permitted to enter goods—I told the clerk Blades, who had charge of that book, that I wanted to trace out Dunton's entry—Blades is not here—I did not tell Mr. Stevenson—I really only did it to find out
what had been taken; I did not see any harm in it—Vyeria said in a letter that he had been led away by the prisoner, and after that I made investigation—on 2nd January, 1893, I find in this signature book a box signed for by Mr. Dunton; that is not entered in the day-book—I have seen Nardie two or three times since he was at the Police-court—I have not got hold of this book at his instigation—I furnished him with the information about Dunton, and gave him the dates—that was behind my employer's back—on 9th March, 1893, I found a box signed for by Dunton.
Re-examined. I made no entries in the signature book myself—the book does not show which of the salesmen sold the goods to Dunton—the prisoner did not ask me to look the book up—I have seen the prisoner's solicitor; the prisoner told me to see him—I showed him the book—I knew he was against my master—I told Mr. Stevenson that I had set a young man to watch the prisoner on the 17th, and he was under the impression that he had seen these goods go out—I told the young man to watch, because I knew there had been something going wrong in the firm—I reckon that Mr. Sinclair had goods—I told the young man to watch the prisoner, because I saw that he and Vyeria were very friendly—I had seen them go together into a public-house in Moor Lane, and my suspicions were aroused—there was nothing else to arouse my suspicions about the prisoner—I spoke to Sergeant Wise about this; I don't know now what I told him—I did not tell him I had seen him taking out more goods than had been booked to him; nothing of the sort—I told Wise I had sent Black to watch, and I had said, "If you see Nardie come in let me know; if you see more goods go out than are entered you let me know"—when they came from tea on 17th, Black said Nardie had been in, and he was under the impression that goods had gone out—I spoke to my master the following day—I showed this book to the prisoner's solicitor, because I thought Vyeria had acted under a cloak—he said in his letter he had only been doing this for about six months, or something to that effect, and that he had been robbing my master in other cases than the prisoner's—I told my master about Sinclair; I told him the same day as I told him about the prisoner—I did not mention anything else—that was before I had seen the prisoner's solicitor, and taken him the book—I went to the prisoner's solicitor, rather than to my master and his solicitor, because I thought that the prisoner was being very hardly dealt with, because of Vyeria saying in his letter that the prisoner had led him away, and so on—I did not think it hard that the prisoner should be caught, and the other men get off—I thought it hard that the prisoner should get caught on this, and then have Vyeria's evidence as well to say that he was the man that led him away, and that Vyeria had only been doing it for six months—I thought it hard that Vyeria should get off cheap, and that the prisoner should not—I have not been very friendly with the prisoner—I have not been out with him or his friends—I have seen him about three times since he has been out on bail—I saw him on Saturday afternoon in Pitfield Street, and went with him towards his house—Black told me he thought he saw the prisoner take the goods; I thought from that that something was wrong—I went to his house after I had been to the Police-court, and after Wise and Mr. Stevenson had given evidence—I thought Vyeria had been doing it with others—
no one has paid me for this amateur detective work—I only went to the solicitor's office once, and that was last Saturday week—I took this book with me, and I said Vyeria had robbed the firm before this particular time, and I gave them the dates of Dunton's.
WILLIAM PICKER (City Constable). I took the prisoner in a cab to the Guildhall Police-court on Friday, 27th April—when we got to the door we saw Mr. Stevenson—the prisoner said to him, "I wish to say a few words to you in private"—I said, "What you have to say to Mr. Stevenson will have to he said in my hearing"—he said, "I wish you would withdraw the charge, as I feel I am placed in a very awkward position. I will do anything to compromise the matter; in fact, I will sacrifice anything."
Cross-examined. He did not say he had no dishonest intention—I took no notes—the prisoner did not say anything about an explanation—I have had two cases since—I always trust my memory.
Re-examined. I gave evidence at the Police-court on 1st May.
ARTHUR VYERIA . I live at 50, Clement Street, Bermondsey, with my parents—I am twenty-two—I have been in Messrs. Spurgeon and Stevenson's employ for nine years; for about four years as salesman—I have known the prisoner for some time—I was charged with stealing these goods, value £6 15s. 10d., from my master—I pleaded guilty before the Alderman, and was bound over to come up for judgment—on 26th April the prisoner came to the office—I was in my department—two boys were at the desk making out invoices, and someone else was there, and I think the others were at tea, or gone—the prisoner delivered some goods, and said he wanted some preparations—I served him with some—I made out this invoice—I served him with other goods besides those on the invoice: two boxes of tray wire, three packets of colour, pieces of muslin, and three reams of tissue paper—I made this entry in the day-book—I let him have those goods in pursuance of an arrangement made between him and me about six or seven months ago, when he came and said his father was going away and had left him in debt, and he wanted to clear it off if possible, and if I could do anything for him he would see what he could do for me—I did see what I could do for him, and I did what I did on April 26th, and at various times before then—he came to the warehouse sometimes only once a week, very seldom oftener; he had been away for a month or more—he did not every time he came have goods which were not invoiced; he had them about every other time—the money he made was supposed to be shared equally between us—I have had about £15 or £16 from him—I should say he has had between £40 and £50 worth of stuff from me which was not invoiced, under the arrangement, and which my master has lost—I gave Quicksley goods without invoicing the, but they were entered correctly two or three days afterwards—before I pleaded guilty I wrote this long letter to my master, by the advice of my people at home—I wrote this letter in consequence of the prisoner coming to my house on Sunday and saying: "I want you to come back with me; I want you to write out a statement"—he had got this written down in black lead, and he asked me to copy it, and I took it down at his dictation—he took it away, saying, "I will copy this and give it to the solicitor"—that was on the Sunday after I was charged, the 29th—I afterwards spoke to my people, and then wrote this letter to Mr. Stevenson
—I have not robbed my master in respect of anybody but the prisoner, neither before our interview of six or seven months ago nor after.
Cross-examined. I made a list of all the goods the prisoner took away on 26th April—I did not always do so—I don't know what has become of my list—I made it on Saturday or Sunday after proceedings were begun—I made no list before he took the goods away; I knew what he had—I have accommodated people previously, and then I have made a list of the goods—I had fraudulent transactions with the prisoner from Christmas—I know Mr. Dunton—I do not know his writing—I see in this book, 29th November, 1892, a signature Dunton, "Received one box"—I cannot remember if I served Dunton with that box—he was my customer; I always served him—there is no trace in the day-book of this box delivered on 29th November, 1892—I cannot say what the explanation of it is—I see the signature Dunton in the delivery book on 22nd January, 9th March, and 18th August, 1893; there is no trace of those in the day-book on those days or about that time—it was a common practice for me to keep back entries of goods sold, and enter them up when more goods were brought in—I could not say if I have accommodated nine or ten people in that way—I cannot say for certain if I always made a list of the goods; sometimes I would trust to my memory—I have not frequently taken money for goods and not entered them in the day-book in other cases than the prisoner's; I should not swear I had not done it, I may have; I do not remember—I did not believe when I pleaded guilty that no other charges would be gone into—I did not say to Hughes that I would swear black was white and white was black if the rest was not gone into if I could get out of this job—I know Wheatmeal by sight, not by name; he used to work for the prisoner—I did not suggest to Wheatmeal that if he would bring his cash to me I would let him have the goods very cheap—I asked him at the Police-court what he was doing there—I did not say to him, "I don't care what I do to get out of this; Australia for me"—after my arrest I saw Mr. Stevenson, and had a conversation with him, and after that I had a conversation with the prisoner—I did not say to him, "If we both plead guilty we shall only be bound over"—I said, "It is best to plead guilty"—he did not say, "I will not plead guilty; I am innocent"—I will swear he did not tell me he was innocent—I did not say, "What does it matter? we shall not have anything done to us"; nothing of the kind—I did not know that I should probably be released on recognisances—I may have said to the prisoner, "I will not run any risks; I have been in prison, and I have had a taste of it"—I did not understand from Mr. Stevenson that if I did not plead guilty there would be an inquiry into all my transactions on behalf of the firm—I thought there might be—that was not why I pleaded guilty—it was not the fear of an inquiry into my past transactions which made me plead guilty—the statement the prisoner wrote out was for me; the statement that I intended to enter the goods up next day was entirely his doing; he dictated it to me. (This statement was read. It concluded: "I had no idea of doing anything wrong. It was merely a matter of obliging Nardie, whom I had known for years as a customer")—the prisoner did not suggest the whole of the statement—the part about the place being watched by detectives is my own; I told that to the prisoner, and he had it written in—all the statement
was written at the same time—I don't know why a gap was left—I don't think he dictated the part about the detectives; he dictated all the rest—I suggested that I intended to enter up the goods the next day—I did not, in fact, intend to enter them the next day—the moment I was arrested I said, "I intended to enter those up to-morrow"—when the prisoner ordered the goods I asked him whether he was bringing any other goods next day—I did that before allowing him to take away the amount he ordered—I should not have allowed him to take away goods to the value of £12 unless he had told me he was bringing goods next day—the transactions between us were not honest, and I have pleaded guilty only to avoid previous transactions being investigated—I should not always serve Dunton—it is a long time since he has done business with us; I cannot say how long—I see an entry to him here of 12th September, 1893; I was salesman then in that department—salesmen serve anyone that comes in; I was not the only one there—if I said before I always served Dunton it was not true—I did not always serve him—perhaps Mr. Stevenson might serve him, or someone else—I did not ask Wheatmeal at the Police-court not to say anything of what had taken place between me and him; that is quite untrue—I saw Mr. Stevenson on the Monday, and on the same day I wrote a letter, in which I pleaded guilty, because my sister advised me to do so—I saw her about nine o'clock in the City—we came up together to see Mr. Stevenson; I saw him alone; she waited outside—he said, "If you plead guilty I will do my best. I will come up and speak for you."
Re-examined. Mr. Stevenson and I served customers in that department, and if we were not there two boys would serve—if I was there I would usually serve Mr. Dunton; if I was not there, or serving another customer, he would go to one of the boys—I saw the prisoner on the Friday and Saturday, and talked the matter over with him, and when I went to see him on Sunday he produced this paper for me—I should think this £6 15s. was about the biggest amount the prisoner had ever had, and I was cautious—goods given to other people have been entered in the book; there are contra accounts—I have never taken money of my master from any other customer than the prisoner and stolen it—nothing was paid by the prisoner in respect of this transaction—I was convicted at Norwich Police-Court of indecent behaviour, and sent to prison—I was then seventeen years old.
HENRY STEVENSON . Re-examined). I have examined this delivery signature book—it is kept by the porters to get signatures for goods when they are delivered; but goods sold and delivered to customers in the house are not signed for—this book has nothing to do with the salesmen, and they know nothing about it; it is simply for the porter—the statement of Vyeria, "I received instructions from Mr. Stevenson to let Nardie have less goods out than he brought in, as the balance of the account was against Nardie," applies not only to the prisoner, but to people that have accounts with us.
Witnesses for the Defence.
LEONARD NARDIE . I am the prisoner's father—the business where he works is mine—he is paid a salary of 30s. a week, and commission on all the weekly business—I went to Italy—I did not leave him to pay a lot of debts; some money was owing in the regular business way—when I
was in Italy the business always remained mine—my books are outside the Court—I believe entries were made in them when I was away, as they had been before I left, and they show the prisoner's salary—we cannot check goods on the spot when we buy them; I have never done so during the thirty years I have been in business; we check them when they are brought home—the prisoner has been with me in business ever since he left school, some nine or ten years—he is now twenty-four—I have always found him honest—no complaint has been made against him before—if he took goods without paying for them I should think the business would benefit, not he.
Cross-examined. I went to Italy about eleven months ago, I believe in June or July, and I came back a fortnight ago—I owed money in the way of trade; less than £200 or £300, I should say, speaking from memory—that money has been owing, I daresay, for the last ten or twelve years; goods go in, and the debts are increased—I daresay I was worth as much as I owed when I went away, perhaps more—I was able to pay my trade debts, had I realised all I possessed; I don't think I could have paid without realising—Mrs. Nardie was in charge of the business when I went away—the prisoner was helping her—he was the traveller of the firm—if I checked the goods I should notice if I had three boxes of wire on my truck when I had only ordered one—if I saw it I should acknowledge it, but it was not always noticed—it would depend on the state of my mind whether I should notice that I had £12 worth of goods when my invoice only showed £5 7s.—I should notice it, perhaps, if my mind was on it; I should if I looked at the goods.
Re-examined. In ready money transactions I check on the spot, but I never do so in contra accounts; I check them at home—that is the rule of the trade—I have found mistakes in invoices on both sides—I don't remember Spurgeon and Stevenson sending more goods—I do not know of any business where mistakes are not made—I made a mistake in Spurgeon and Stevenson's account yesterday.
MARGARET BOWEN . I have been in the employ of Mr. Nardie, senior, for two years—I check goods with the invoice when they come in; I have done that since Christmas—it was my duty to check with the invoice all goods that came from Messrs. Stevenson; no one else ever checked the goods—I have checked every lot that came in—I have never found more goods brought in than were on the invoice, so that no goods could have previously been given to the prisoner on the accommodation principle, as it is called.
WILLIAM FRY . I am in Mr. Nardie's employ—I know when goods are brought from Spurgeon and Stevenson's—so far as I know, the prisoner has never brought those goods home alone—I have been there just over a year—I have gone with him to Spurgeon and Stevenson's, and wheeled the goods home—we have never stopped on the way and given goods to anyone else—Miss Bowen checked them—I. Rougier, and Grimsdale are the only persons employed by Nardie who would wheel the truck.
Cross-examined. I do not always go with the prisoner—I do other things than wheel the truck.
EDWARD ROUGIER . I am in the prisoner's employ—I never knew the prisoner bring home goods alone in a truck—I have wheeled goods home for him on a good many occasions—I have never received instructions to
leave goods away from Nardie's business—I took the goods to be checked by Miss Bowen—I had the goods on a barrow or truck, or sometimes I carried them—I wheeled them straight to the firm, to the ground floor—I took the truck straight to the shop, and Miss Bowen is on the ground-floor, at the shop—as a rule, the truck is left outside the door, and she can see it from where she is at work; I bring the goods off the truck inside the shop, and she checks them at once.
ALFRED GRIMSDALE . I was the lad with the prisoner at the time of his arrest—I never knew him wheel the truck alone—he has never instructed me to deliver goods on the way home—I have always taken them straight to the business, and they have been checked by the warehouse girl—the prisoner used to take the invoices to her—I did not stop to see her.
Cross-examined. All I did was to wheel the barrow as the prisoner told me—he paid my wages—on the day of his arrest the prisoner brought the things out of the warehouse, and put them on the truck—he came several times with them.
Re-examined. I always came straight from Stevenson's to Nardie's.
JAMES COOPER . I am in Nardie's employ—there is no one else in the employ who goes to Stevenson's except Rougier, Grimsdale, and myself—I have never known the prisoner wheel the barrow—I have wheeled it—when I reached the front door the goods were delivered to the ware-house girl, who saw they were right.
Three witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. on account of his previous good character and his youth.— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
501. CHARLES McCARTHY (20) , Stealing, whilst employed in the Post Office, three letters containing postal orders, and JAMES SPIERS (19) for receiving the same. They were also indicted for feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for the said order, to which McCarthy
PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. RICHARDSON. Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL. Defended Spiers.
HENRY IRETON . I live at 102, Warrener Gardens, Battersea—I took out this postal order for 20s., payable to Mr. B. Reed, 50, Fermoy Road, Westbourne Park, and put it in a letter which I posted to that address.
BEAUMONT REED . I live at 50, Fermoy Road, Westbourne Park—I never received the letter from Mr. Ireton with the postal order for 20s.—I did not sign this postal order, nor authorise anyone to sign it.
JAMES MOXHAM . I am a police-constable attached to the General Post Office—I found the prisoner at 311, Harrow Road, and told him I was a police-officer, and showed him two postal orders for 1s. each—I said, "You were seen to sign and present these orders at the Woodfield Road Post-office on April 30th"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Where did you get them from?"—he replied, "From a customer who works at Whiteley's"—I said, "What is his name?"—he said, "I don't know"—I said, "When did you see him last?"—he said, "Last Tuesday"—I said, "Then you have seen him since you were spoken to about those theatre tickets?"—he said, "Yes"—those were two tickets stolen from a letter that was traced to him—I said, "Did you ask him for his name?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Why not?"—he said, "I did not think it worth
while"—I said, "Then you got the post-office orders from the same man that you got the theatre tickets from?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You will have to accompany me to the General Post Office—he went there, and to the secretary's office, where Mr. Woodard saw him.
Cross-examined. I went with Mr. Shaylor, who is also attached to the Post Office; we are both Metropolitan Police-officers—we told Spiers we were policemen—we did not tell him he would be charged with having changed stolen postal orders—when I said, "You will have to come with us to the Post Office," I think he said, "I can't, because there is no one else in the shop"—I may have said, "There is no 'can't' about it"—I told him to get his hat, and followed him upstairs to get it—he was not out of my sight from the time I went into the shop until we left for the Post Office—I told him he would have to go to the Post Office—I think if he had said he would not go, I should have taken him—I did not know at the time if he was going to be charged—he could have told me if he liked that he would not go to the Post Office; but I should have taken him there, whether he said so or not, and if he had resisted I might possibly have called on persons to assist me—he offered practically no objection to going with me—I was not in uniform.
FREDERICK WM. WOODARD . I am a clerk in the Confidential Department of the Secretary's Office, General Post Office—I was entrusted with the case of McCarthy—in consequence of what I heard, Spiers was sent for, and I had a conversation with him—he was not then in custody; I did not give him into custody till I had completed my examination of him. (MR. PURCELL. objected to the statement made by Spiers being given in evidence upon the ground that it had been elicited from him when he was in custody of the police. The RECORDER. was of opinion that Spiers was not actually in custody at the time the statement was made, and that therefore the evidence was admissible. MR. PURCELL. then said that Spiers would withdraw his plea, and he having stated in the hearing of the JURY. that he was guilty, the JURY. found him GUILTY .—He received an excellent character from a neighbour and from an uncle who had employed him, and who expressed his willingness to continue to do so. McCARTHY received an excellent character; and his father promised to send him out of the country within a week after his being set at liberty.—SPIERS, Four Months' Hard Labour. McCARTHY, Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
502. EDWARD ALLEN CROMPTON (49) PLEADED GUILTY . On making false entries in a cash-book belonging to his employers, the Metropolitan Asylums District Board. There were other indictments against the prisoner for forger. The prisoner received an excellent character. The prosecutor did not suggest that more than £30 in all had been embezzled.— GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, May 30th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BESLEY AND C. F. GILL. Prosecuted; MR. LAWLESS. Defended.
ARTHUR POWELL . I am a cashier at the City Bank, Threadneedle Street—on March 7th a person whom I have since seen tried here (See page 458) brought this cheque for £3 12s. 6d., purporting to be signed by a customer of ours, Antony Coats—the person who wrote this signature has put the banker's mark of cancellation—the woman was taken in custody and tried—the writing is a clumsy imitation of Mr. Coats' writing and is on a cheque supplied to him.
ANTONY COATS . I am a lace manufacturer in the City, and live at 24, Mildmay Road—Ellen Edmunds was my servant there—this cheque has been taken from the middle of my cheque-book; this is not my signature—I missed the cheque when the woman Bartolomi was brought.
Cross-examined. A month's wages were due to Edmunds—they were detained because in February we realised that she had got into bad company and was given to drink, so we retained the money by the advice of the matron of Holloway Infirmary, where she came from—she had been coming home at night worse for drink; she wanted to go out as a day worker, which we knew would be utter ruin to her—the first month's money was not due when we said that.
Re-examined. I do not know the persons with whom she had been when she came home drunk—this (Produced) is one of my genuine cheques.
ELLEN EDMUNDS . I was a servant in the employ of Mr. Coats—I was there in March, and am there still—I knew a woman named Bartolomi before she lived with the prisoner; she waited at a coffee-shop, and I used to go backwards and forwards there—I do not know that she was living with the prisoner in March—I knew it a week before this happened—in February I went to 47, Harrisson Street, where they lived together as man and wife—she was passing as Mrs. Rickard—I was in a public-house with them, and had something to drink—I said that I could not treat them, because my master had not paid me for two months, but he had got some cheques, and had not changed them—the prisoner said, "Get me one, and I will change it"—Mrs. Rickard was there, but I do not think she heard the conversation—he asked me for an old cheque to copy—I took a cheque, and an old one to copy, and sent them by post to Harrisson Street, and saw the prisoner and the woman about an hour afterwards—next day, March 7th, I heard that Mrs. Rickard had got into trouble—I went to the Police-court, and afterwards to this Court, and she was tried and convicted—I did not see the prisoner after the day I took the cheque, or when the woman was tried here—the next time I saw him was when he was arrested.
Cross-examined. I was eighteen last Saturday—I knew Bartolomi very well—I was paid my money up to December, and was annoyed at not being paid in February—I was the first to remark that my master had cheques at home, and had not changed them—I only meant to tell him that I had not got my money until he changed them—I did not mean any wrong when I said it—I have never told anyone that I have been in trouble—I went to the Home after I was taken bad—I was not in a situation; I had never been in a situation before—I went into Mr. Coats' service on 11th August—I had been at St. Thomas's Home before that for ten months—before I went to the Home I went out selling flowers in
the street—I was living with a young woman—my parents are not alive—I knew Bartolomi when she had her first child; that was when I was selling flowers—I was never charged with anything before—I knew perfectly well that I was doing wrong when I took this cheque; I was stealing it—when I said that my master had some cheques I did not intend to take one.
By the COURT. I took the cheque, and sent it by post to the prisoner on a Tuesday, and I gave evidence before the Alderman on the following Tuesday, and repeated the same account here when the woman was tried.
FANNY SPARKS . I am the wife of John Sparks, a harness-maker, of 47, Harrison Street, Gray's Inn Road—I know the prisoner by the name of Rickels; he lived at my house for two months up to March last—he only had one room—he lived by himself for a little while, and then a woman joined him and lived with him as his wife—she was not arrested at my house, but out of doors—I heard of it the same day—the prisoner left the house that day, and I did not see him again—he did not tell me he was going, or leave any address.
Cross-examined. I am not the landlady; I am a lodger in the kitchen—there are live or six other lodgers—the landlady is not here—neither she nor the landlord lived in the house—I pay my rent to Mr. Glass, of Judd Street.
FREDERICK HOLMES . City Detective-Sergeant). Frances Rickard was in my custody on March 7th, and I went that day, at seven o'clock, to 47, Harrisson Street, to try and find the prisoner—I also went to 90, Judd Street, and ascertained the room which Frances Rickard had occupied—I found a child in bed, but the prisoner was not there—I kept observation on the house for some time—the woman was remanded twice, and on May 5th about one o'clock I saw the prisoner enter 90, Judd Street—I followed him in, and said, "Your name is Rickard?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "You will be charged with a woman named Rickard with forging and uttering a cheque for £3 12s. 6d. in March last—he said, "I know nothing about it"—I said, "You know the woman Rickard"—he said, "I know nobody"—shortly afterwards he said, "Yes, she is a bad lot"—I took him to the station and charged him—he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I have ascertained that the child is the child of the woman Bartolomi—about twelve o'clock that night the prisoner's brother-in-law and sister took the child away in order that it should not be left there all night, and it was with them three weeks afterwards—I used to see it when I was making inquiries—the prisoner is a man of good character—he works in hair for his mother—she is a wig-maker—this woman only lived two months with the prisoner—she gave her address at Judd Street when she was arrested.
GUILTY of the uttering only.— . Nine Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON. Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH MACK . I am the wife of George Mack, of 118, Wenlock Street, Hoxton—the prisoner has been living in my house four months, and a week, on the top floor—on May 22nd I placed a bowl of chloride of lime on the landing, as there was a bad smell; the prisoner came down
at four o'clock and went to the yard door and about two stairs down, and hallowed out what man I had got downstairs, and where my son was—I said I had no man, only my little boy—he came down and said he would show me what he would do with me—he ran upstairs, and I saw his wife on the stairs, and while I was speaking to her he took the bowl of chloride of lime and threw it over me—my husband came home, and I gave the prisoner in charge—my face was burnt—Dr. Page exclaimed me the same evening.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw a chemist first; I think his name is Long; that was after five o'clock—you had no right downstairs; I was afraid of you, and shut myself in my breakfast-parlour—I followed you upstairs to go to the street door, because I was frightened—the bowl was left there, because the first floor lodger complained of a bad smell of the slops in your room—I always kept the landing window open—you were not throwing the chloride of lime out at the window, the window was closed half an hour before—I did not meet you on the stairs and say "How dare you open the window?" nor did I dare you open it.
By the COURT. I said before the Magistrate, "I did shut the window after you opened it," but that was half an hour before; he was not there—then he was in the yard.
WALTER PAGE . I am a surgeon, of 2, Kingsland Road—on May 22nd, about 6.30, I examined Mrs. Mack at the police-station—she was suffering from burns on her face and neck and a bruise under her right eye by something having struck her—the burns were caused by chloride of lime, and there was chloride of lime scattered about her hair—if it had gone into her eyes it would probably have blinded her—she is disfigured a little, but it will pass away, I think.
Cross-examined. The bruise on the right side of her face would not be from a rebound, but from a direct blow.
THOMAS HARKELL . (272 G) On May 22nd, at 6.45, I went to Mrs. Mack's house, and saw white stuff on her face, hair, and clothes—I took the prisoner into custody; my opinion is that he was recovering from drink.
The prisoner's statement before the magistrate: "I went downstairs to the closet. On my own way down I opened the staircase window. As I came back, the prosecutrix faced me; she was furious, and said she would not have the window opened; she closed it suddenly, and the lime struck the window sash. There was not sufficient lime to cover her as she was covered an hour an a half afterwards, when the doctor saw her".
Prisoner's defence. Mrs. Mack is most violent women. I thought it was necessary to have the place ventilated, and opened the window. I was going to throw the lime out at the window, she closed it again, and the bowl struck the window frame and splashed in her face. She stood there screaming three or four minutes, but never complained about being struck by the bowl or by the lime, and I had no idea she was hurt by it.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON. offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BRUCE. and MR. ELDRIDGE. Prosecuted, and MR. H. AVORY. Defended.
FREDERICK DOWNES . City Detective Inspector). On March 14th the prisoner came voluntarily to the Old Jewry with his solicitor, not by arrangement, and surrendered—I said that I held a warrant for his arrest for obtaining thirty Alhambra shares by false pretences from Mr. Debenham, and also incurring a debt and liability to the same amount—the solicitor read the warrant, he made no reply—he was taken to Moor Lane Station and charged.
Cross-examined. The warrant had only been granted the day before.
JAMES DEBENHAM . I am a stockbroker of 4, Copthall Court—I was the petitioning creditor in the prisoner's bankruptcy—I have had a good many transactions with him from August, 1892, to September, 1893—on September 4th he purchased thirty Alhambra shares for £663 10s.—I knew he was not a man of very large capital, and our rule is to allow him to take away the transfer to get the money from various clients—he would bring back the transfer, or a cheque, he being a stock and share dealer—I am a member of the Stock Exchange—I understood he was acting for customers and clients of his own—these shares were bought for the account of September 15—I received a transfer ticket in the name of F. Watney Dutton and Co., for the thirty Alhambra shares—William Heath Bailey is the transferee—he brought or sent this memorandum; it is in his writing—the transfer was ready on the 15th; this is it—it was duly executed and delivered to the prisoner, and the shares were transferred accordingly—the transfer is dated September 27, when I gave it to the prisoner—in all probability that is when the transferee executed it—between September 15th and 26th I had various conversations with the prisoner—I wanted my money—he said he could not give me the money at present, because he could not get it from Mr. Bailey—the transfer was sent for on the 26th, and handed to the prisoner's clerk by my permission; and the prisoner called that afternoon and brought me his own cheque for £663 10s., which was paid into my bank and returned, marked "Not sufficient"—I parted with the transfer believing he was in a position to get the money from Mr. Bailey and pay me—I produce the prisoner's day-book, and find, on 11th July, this memorandum: "W. H. Bailey, Esq. By sale to you of 50 Alhambra shares at £22. 10s. per share, £1,125," and on the same folio, on the credit side, I find, "James Debenham, July 11th. To purchase from you of eight Alhambra shares at 22 1/2, £178"—on August 16th here is another entry showing that he bought four more Alhambra shares from me at 22—on September 8th here is, "To purchase from you of thirty Alhambra shares at 22 3/4 "—on July 11th here is a credit to Mr. Bailey in the ledger of £200, on August 19th of £498 8s., and on August 31st of £404. 78. 6d.—I produce the different receipts and counterfoils showing that he received these sums.
Cross-examined. I came into possession of the books as trustee on his bankruptcy—the receiving order was made on 24th November; my petition against him was dated November 10th or 11th—I did business with him for more than twelve months—I was not aware during the
whole of that time that he was a man without any capital, or that he was hard up; I knew he was not a man of large means, but I thought he was thoroughly solvent—there was practically no credit given—he was doing business with numbers of people besides me—I have held over his cheques on one or two occasions by special arrangement; I cannot say that they were for small amounts, but they would not be very large, because I should not trust him—I frequently saw him after the return of the cheque from his bank, and I received letters from him—he paid me £100 of the amount on October 2nd—I threatened civil proceedings, and on October 11th I issued a writ for the balance, £563 10s., and afterwards realised some securities of his which I held—I realised about £30 on them, and there was a dividend of £6 8s. which I got on the Alhambras, which belonged to him—I gave him credit for it, and for £2 8s. 6d. which was due to him for commission—having done all that I presented a petition against him in bankruptcy, and was appointed trustee, and made a report to the Court with a view to his being prosecuted—I have no doubt that it was on my report that the Bankruptcy Court ordered the prosecution—I left it to the solicitor as to whether the prisoner was to see the books; an application to see them was made at the Mansion House—it was granted, and he has inspected them—I am not aware that he had applied before and had been refused—if I said at the Mansion House that I had referred him to my solicitor that was true—the shares were not delivered to him on the 15th, because he told me he could not get the money, and he told me so again between the 15th and the 26th—on the 26th, when I delivered the transfer, I did not believe he had received the money from Mr. Bailey, but Mr. Bailey might bring the money to his office, and ask for the transfer—I thought either that Bailey had come down and paid the money, or that Dutton was going to send the transfer up; that is the usual course—I thought Bailey might have come himself or sent a messenger—I believed he had got the money from Bailey—in one case I sent the share certificate and received the cheque in a few days; it happened that the shares went into the hands of a client of mine, and I could very well trust him to send the money to the defendant—those were Tavistock Hotel shares; I gave it to him on Friday, September 15th, and received the cheque on the following Tuesday, September 19th—on 17th or 18th July I sent the defendant a transfer for fifty London Pavilion shares, and received a cheque for £328 13s. 1d. from him on July 21st—that is another instance where the cheque came two or three days after.
Re-examined. The rule is that the transfer would be sent out in the morning, and at night either a cheque sent or the transfer returned—the prisoner was asked to pay for the shares on several days—I heard you gave him the opportunity of seeing the books at the Mansion House, and he has had the opportunity—it was part of my duty as trustee to report to the Court.
By MR. AVORY. On 15th September the prisoner paid for stock £98 10s.; on the 16th, £149 5s.; on the 19th, £216 and £47 and £88 12s. 6d.; on the 22nd, £90 15s.; on the 25th, £134 18s. 6d.; and on the 26th this cheque was returned—I produce the pass-book.
11th, 1893, for £511 12s. 4d.—the receiving order was made on November 24th—the liabilities amount to £2,616 10s. 10d., and the assets to £7 7s. 6d.—the bankrupt is described as F. Watney Dutton and Co.—the public examination took place on January 15th, 1894—the trustee's report is on the file—the order to prosecute was made in March, 1894—I have the notes of the public examination—this is a transcript of the shorthand notes; it is signed, "F. Watney Dutton"—there is an affidavit on the file, made by the bankrupt verifying the shorthand notes; it is sworn by him, and signed by the Registrar in accordance with the practice.
Cross-examined. The order to prosecute is limited to Debenham's case—he has passed his public examination.
J. DEBENHAM. Re-examined). The signatures at the bottom of these sheets are the defendant's writing, and also to the transcript of the short-hand notes. (MR. ELDRIDGE. here read portions of the transcript.)
WILLIAM R. RAWLINGS . I am clerk to Brown, Janson and Co., of Laurence Pountney Lane—the prisoner kept an account there; this is a copy of it—on March 26th the amount to his credit was £39 8s. 1d. in the morning and £27 16s. 11d. at night.
Cross-examined. Between the 14th and 30th September he paid in £1,262 17s. 8d. to his account, and drew cheques to Mr. Debenham amounting to £753 16s. 7d.—the account went on to November 24th, when 13s. 10d. was left for commission, and the account was closed.
Re-examined. Before September 15th he paid in £1,262 17s. 8d., and drew out afterwards £1,262 3s. 10d.
MR. AVORY. submitted that there was no case to go to the JURY, as Mr. Debenham admitted that at the time he sent the transfer he believed that Mr. Bailey had paid, and as the cheque was not sent till hours after the transfer was delivered, the transfer was not parted with on the faith of the cheque. MR. ELDRIDGE. was heard in reply, and the COMMON SERJEANT considered that the credit was obtained at the time the stock was purchased, and from that moment the defendant was liable, and could be civilly sued, and it was not suggested that at that moment there was anything wrong; but afterwards being in difficulties, he drew this cheque, and therefore there was no case to go to the JURY.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. K. FRITH. Prosecuted.
The Prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY. that he wished to plead guilty. GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY. to two other indictments for forging acceptances to bills for £22 17s. 6d. and £25.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, May 31st, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MUIR. and MR. PASSMORE. Prosecuted, and MR. FARRANT
WILLIAM JOHN FRANCIS BLINN . I live at Craven Hill Lodge, Hyde Park, and am of no occupation—I first saw Benje in March, 1892, and this conveyance was executed. (This was dated April 14th, 1892, between Benje and the witness, find Thomas Beeves Clifford, of 102, Harrow Road, Paddington, whereby Benje agreed to sell them all his interest in Wenlock Farm, now called the John Mobbs' estate, for £1,000.)—No. 49, Whitmore Road, is within that conveyance—I also executed this agreement, dated April 14th, 1892. (This was between the same parties, and stated that notwithstanding the absolute sale, in case of recovery the proceeds are to be divided into three parts, that each party might receive a third.)
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. I met Benje at Mr. Clifford's office, not by appointment—I did not know he was coming—Mr. Clifford is a house agent—he did not mention Benje's name, but he came into the office while I was there—Benje explained to me that Mobbs' estate belonged to him—I said, "How can you prove it?"—he said, "I have deeds and documents to prove it, and, if I can find somebody to finance me, I will take it up"—he said, "I will call again to-morrow about 10.30 or eleven, and will you be there?"—I said I would finance him if it turned out right—I think I went to Somerset House with him at eleven or twelve o'clock; at any rate, he was there—he gave me the date of John Mobbs' will, and I searched and was satisfied—I did not see Carter's will, but he said he had it and could produce a copy—we met again next morning—he asked for some money as he was hard up, and I gave him 10s.—he produced a copy of John Carter's will, and a copy of a conveyance—I did not see the original, but he said he had it in his box, and said he had all the pedigree of Mobbs—I was quite satisfied with what he told me—I did not take any security for the 10s.—we made a verbal arrangement that I should finance him as he required money; there were several deeds which he said we should find, but we did not—I asked for a certificate; he said we were certificate mad—I spent, I should say, some £100 before the deed was signed, to supply him with cash for all the expenses—I have no cheque to show; it was cash; it was for all the searches in the county of Northampton—I paid to him £50 or £60 in small sums before the deed was signed—the £60 was paid between Mr. Clifford and I—I drew up this deed, and on April 14 Benje came of his own accord to Mr. Clifford's office to sign it—we had some refreshment in the office, and I paid him £5 in gold—I did not put it in an envelope—he did not say, "This is not all!"—he has issued a writ—Mr. Moody issued it for him, but the action was not continued—Mr. Moody went over to New York—I read this deed to him in the presence of Mr. Clifford and Mr. Danlio, a witness—I was quite satisfied with the bargain at the time—it was arranged that we should divide it into three; no other agreement was formed.
Re-examined. I have paid altogether between £200 and £300—I paid him the last sum at the end of 1893, not long before the issue of the writ—I can hardly tell you when the writ was issued; it was only a farce—it was last year.
By the COURT. He told me he was entitled to the whole of this Hoxton estate; it is worth something fabulous; there are several thousand houses, but he only claimed the freehold.
Cross-examined by Russell. I believed the estate belonged to Benje—
I have a doubt about it now—if I wanted to borrow money on it, I should have to take somebody else's opinion as to whether I was committing a fraud.
GEORGE CLIFTON . I am a bricklayer, of 57, Sixth Avenue, Queen's Park, Harrow Road—Benje lodged in one room in my house from December 20th, 1891, to December 10th, 1892, when he left £32 5s. in my debt—he paid a little—I detained a box, and he had me locked up for it—I did not give it up, the police kept it—he showed me a will he had made; he was always making wills—he borrowed money of me—these are two of the wills he showed me; this one relates to the Hoxton estate, in which he left £10,000 to me and £5,000 to my boy, and in the other he leaves me an ostrich farm in South Africa of sixty acres.
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. We had conversation about the Mobbs' estate—I do not know who wrote this will; I did not; I cannot write like that—Mr. Chfford witnessed it—I did not suggest his making the will, and ask him to sign it, because he was going to die—the will was previous to his being ill—I never suggested a word about his making a will in my favour—I did not say to him one night, "You are going to die before the morning, you had better sign the will"—the ostrich farm will was witnessed in my house—I did not tell him he was going to die; I am not a doctor—I was not offering £2,000 for the box; evidence was given to that effect, but it was perjury—I got discharged, and summoned the Commissioner to show why he kept the box—Benje said that I owed him £8 10s.—I said that he owed me £32—he made a claim for £50 damages—it was Tansley and Tilley who swore that I was offering £2,000 for the box; one is a greengrocer, and the other a retired engineer—he put in a counter-claim, and I lost, and had my furniture sold, after being kind to him—I never knew him as a civil engineer—Benje gave me this will to keep. (Many words in this mill were very badly spelled, as "hostrage," for "ostrich," and "cheaf son" for "chief")—he left me the whole of his property in the world—I do not know whether he can read—he said he had been in South Africa bridge-building on behalf of the Government.
Re-examined. Benje worked with me in 1881 at bricklaying.
CHARLES WATSON BROWN . I am a solicitor, of 2, Gresham Buildings—in October last Russell was introduced to me by a friend of mine, and came to my office to know whether I would act for him about some property, value £1,200—I went and saw a firm of solicitors two or three times, but nothing came of it—I saw him continually to the end of October, and about November 12th or 13th he came to see me, and said he would introduce me to Mr. Benje, a friend of his, who had a lot of property in Hoxton, so that I might sell the leases and act for him generally—he said that Benje was an old workman who wanted to settle up his property and go to Wales, and he had 250 acres in Hoxton—on November 17th he brought Benje, and explained to me that, as money was scarce with him, they had prepared the lease themselves, and asked me to witness their signatures, which I did—Russell did not say anything about 49, Whitmore Road; he mentioned that Benje was to grant a lease to him of some property, and he produced a draft lease of 49, Whitmore Road, and asked me if I could get somebody to lend him some money on it—I took the draft deed to a client of mine, who
went to see the property, and next day Russell came in a great hurry, and wanted the draft deed back again—that was before November 17th, and on November 17th Benje and Russell and a third man came, and Russell asked me if there was a receipt on the back—I said, "No, there is in the body of the deed"—I attested both the lease and the counterpart—it purports to be a lease from Benje to Russell, in consideration of £250, for a term of eighty years, at a ground-rent of £4 a year—I filled up two or three blanks, and they took it away—Benje executed the counterpart merely—Russell said nothing that day about Benje owing him money, but afterwards he said that Benje owed him a great deal more than that—on the Wednesday in the next week Russell came to my office, and said he had been trying to raise money on the mortgage of the lease, and had got somebody to entertain it: he had been to see a firm of auctioneers in Oxford Street, and got £25, and on the following Saturday morning the transaction would be completed—after going to Mr. Phillips' office two or three times, I went upstairs and left him—Russell came with Benje the next day, but nothing particular happened—the next time I saw him he told me he had taken the lease to Mr. Read, of Foster Lane, who would make him an advance to take up the lease from Mr. Phillips, and would I do it, as it would be a great convenience to him—I refused—he said Mr. Read was going to lend him £150 on it—he explained that he could not get the original lease from Mr. Phillips, and would I run downstairs and ask Mr. Benje to let him have the counterpart—he said that Benje was in a public house, but we met him, and ho said, "I will go and fetch it"—he did so, and brought it in three-quarters of an hour—Benje retained me as the solicitor to recover for him a large estate in Hoxton, and gave me the will of John Parker—I said I would act for him if he gave me the money—he never brought any money, and I never did it—I wrote several letters to Benje—this is one. (Asking Benje either to communicate with Mr. Read, of Foster Lane, who had asked for his address, or offering to furnish Mr. Read with the information asked for)—he came and said that I might do it, or he would go and do it himself.
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. Russell said that he had got on the right side of Benje, and he was going to grant him a lease—Benje, Russell, and Shuttleworth also came to see me together on November 17th—I have bracketed their names—Russell may have entered first—they came again together on November 21st, and I have bracketed their names—Shuttleworth is outside—no money passed in my presence when the lease was attested—they all went out together—when Russell went out to see Benje, Benje was walking towards the office—I addressed Benje's letters to Whitmore Road and to Kingsland—I don't think I had a letter from Benje, except the one in which he retained me—I had no reason to doubt his bona fides.
WILLIAM THOMAS READ . I am a solicitor, of 2, Foster Lane—Russell first came to see me last November—a Mr. Payne brought him to me as recommended highly by Mr. Andrews, who he had known for years—knowing that I wanted to invest money, Russell wanted to raise £150, and brought a copy of the lease of 49, Whitmore Road—he offered me the property as security for £150—it was proposed that a sub-lease should be granted to Mr. Shuttleworth, of the same property, for seven, fourteen,
or twenty-one years, with the usual covenants to repair and insure—I understood that the lease was in Mr. Phillips' hands for an advance of £25, and was told that I could see the counterpart—I instructed Mr. Brown to examine it with the counterpart—the consideration was £250, and the ground-rent £4—I prepared the mortgage and the under lease to Mr. Shuttleworth, who signed them both in my presence on December 4th, 1893, and I completed the mortgage on December 5th—Russell claimed the mortgage—I paid off Mr. Phillips £25, with an additional guinea; I also paid Mr. Wallace, a solicitor, £17 10s., on Russells authority; it was the claim of Mr. Andrews which Mr. Russell sanctioned by his letter—I handed the balance, £81, to Russell after deducting commission and my charges for stamps—I registered the mortgage and the lease from Benje to Russell, and insured the property for £400 pursuant to the covenant—Shuttleworth is described as a refreshment-house keeper, and it was arranged that he was to put it in repair, and open it as a restaurant—I wrote to Benje because I found it had not been done—this is the letter—he came two or three days afterwards, and said he would see that what was necessary was done, and he would hold me harmless.
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. I should not have advised my client to advance money if there had been no under lease—I sent Mr. Payne to inspect the premises, and he made a favourable report—Benje said he would see that the repairs were done, and would learn why they had not been done before—I told him in my letter that the mortgage had been executed on the security of the premises—when I first told him that the money had teen borrowed, he said he did not know anything about it—I had not seen him before—I had insured the property at that time in the Sun Fire Office, on January 18th, 1894, as soon as the matter was settled—he did not ask why I had not written to him before; I endeavoured to get his address from Mr. Brown; I learnt it from Mr. Payne, and at once wrote to him.
Cross-examined by Russell. I said that you could have the money very shortly; I had to ascertain whether my client had invested it—I inquired about the lease, and where I could see the counterpart—I should have been quite satisfied with the security if it had been your own property.
THOMAS BROWN WATSON . I am a solicitor, of 81, Finsbury Pavement—I act for the original lessee—I produce the original lease of No. 49 and the next house of March 24th, 1823, for ninety-six years, wanting thirty days—I am acting for Miss Rawlings—Shuttleworth is in the occupation of the property, but he gave it up last night—I had to bring an action against him to get rid of him, and he would not go out till I paid him £2, which I did last night—he held it under an agreement to pay £3 3s. 4d. a month—there was no covenant to repair—about a year's rent is due—there is nothing in the place.
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. I knew that my client had been in possession a great many years—the estate has been called upon to pay claims by Mobbs, but we all know Mobbs.
By the COURT. Judgment was not against him, the Master of the Rolls said that he could not make any order, as there was a question of title—he said, "I am between two fires; I can't pay rent to two people"—Shuttleworth agreed to give them possession in twenty-four hours.
Shepherd's Bush—I procured a conveyance from Carter to Benje, dated July 8, 1892—the amount is £80, I think—part of the consideration money was paid to Mr. Williams, a solicitor, of Brighton—it was mortgaged to him—I think the charge was £100, speaking from memory—I took the money down and redeemed it—I paid £40 or £50—I produce an undertaking from Benje to Mr. Taylor, dated February 18, 1893. (This stated that, in consideration of £38 11s. paid to Benje, he undertook not to deal with the estate in any way, or borrow money upon it.)
Cross-examined by MR. FARRANT. If the estate was recovered Benje was to have something more—I have looked round the estate with Benje—he could not assign any of it because it was assigned—I never asked him to sell me two houses; nothing was said about two houses—he was to have one-fourth more if the property was recovered.
HERBERT GRANT . I am a carpenter, of 50, Clifton Road, Homerton—I first met Benje about August last, and later on he executed this conveyance. (This was dated September 8th, 1893, between Benje and the witness, assigning to Grant a house in Shoreditch for ever for £200)—I paid him £5, and the rest was to be paid when the deed was stamped and registered—shortly afterwards I received a letter from Mr. Bouchett warning me that he had nothing to convey, and I did not pay any more.
ELIZABETH FIELDER . I am a widow, of 57, Mortimer Road, Kingsland—Benje occupied a furnished room in my house at 7s. a week—he came in November, and stayed till he was arrested—a young woman lived with him, who he said was his stepdaughter.
Cross-examined. I have reason to doubt that—he said he had no one to look after him, and he was going to furnish a house—I said, "I have a grown-up family"—he said, "I only want her a few hours a day to do some writing"—she is twenty or twenty-one—she occupied the same room—he was ill in my house, and she looked after him—he had no medical man—he had some kind of fever, and I did not see him for a fortnight—I have not kept his things for the rent—he was afterwards able to go and do his work, and she still stayed there.
ELIZABETH ANDREWS . My mother has occupied 52, Manchester Street, Manchester Square, for twenty-eight or twenty-nine years—the ground rent is £32; I don't know what the lease cost—there are thirteen rooms altogether—Russell has never lived there or been a visitor there.
Cross-examined by Russell. I know Mr. George Andrews—he has not mentioned your name to me—I have taken in letters for him, but not for you.
Re-examined. Andrews is at Bexley Heath—he lived there last year, and he has been there recently; he went away with a policeman about two days ago.
GEORGE HENRY BURGESS . I am clerk to Wood, Bird and Wood, solicitors, of 16, Eastcheap—on January 3rd, by their direction, I went to 47, Whitmore Road, Hoxton, a coffee-tavern—I asked for Benje, and saw a man who gave his name as Shuttleworth, and informed me that Benje never lived there, but called several times a week for his letters.
House—I have got the will of John Carter, of Yardley Hill, which was proved in Northampton on October 11th, 1884, by Benjamin Benje, the surviving executor of the will—it was sworn under £100.
Cross-examined. That only represents the personal value, not including lands.
SAMUEL BACON . City Detective). I act under the instructions of Inspector Hunt—I kept observation on the prisoners from February 14th till the arrest in March—I saw them together daily except on four or five days, and speaking together—Russell would leave Benje and go to several solicitor's offices, and sometimes he would come back and meet Benje—I have seen them go into public-houses together; a public-house in Holborn was their general meeting-place—on March 13th I followed Benje to a pawnbroker's shop with the woman who he says is his stepdaughter—I said, "Is your name Mr. Benje?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police-officer, and you are wanted on a warrant with a man named Russell for attempting to obtain money from solicitors in various parts of London"—he said, "Yes, that is right, but I have got nothing out of it if anything has been obtained by it; I have got the 200 acres round here, they along to me, where we are now"—we were then in High Street, Hoxton—I took him to Seething Lane Station, and Inspector Hunt read the warrant to him.
BAXTER HUNT . City Police Inspector). On 13th March I saw Russell, and said, "I am a police-officer, and hold a warrant for your arrest for conspiracy with intent to defraud"—he said, "In what way?"—I said, "By going to Messrs. Wood in January last with a forged lease of property at Hoxton, and endeavouring to obtain money on it"—he said, "I cannot see how you make it a forgery when all the names are right; I suppose old Bailey did this"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "It is his house, not mine; if it is wrong he has deceived me; he is a d—d old scoundrel; I do not believe he has; he told me he had got over 200 houses there: I have not known him long; he was introduced to me just before Christmas"—I took him to the station, and found on him a farthing and a draft lease and some letters not affecting this case—Benje was brought in by Bacon, and I said, "I hold a warrant for your arrest; are you Benjamin Benje?"—he said, "Yes; that is my name"—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I deny intending to defraud anyone"—I found one penny on him, a duplicate for a rule in May last, and a number of letters—I found four letters at 67, Mortimer Road, where he occupied a room in the basement—this one is addressed to Russell, and I think it is a copy; it is the writing of a very illiterate man; there is no date. (This teas signed B. Benje stating that he was disgusted with Bussed, complaining of having to wait for him for hours at public-houses, and not coming to let him know what had been done, and of Russell getting drunk with his (Benje's) money in his pocket)—I also found this letter. (Dated November 10, 1892, from Russell to Shuttleworth, asking him to meet him at the Radnor, Holborn, next day, and to let Benje know that there would be a party to see No. 49 to-morrow. Another letter from Russell to Benje, of February 20, 1894, stated, "I hope to pay you £50 to-morrow" Another was from Russell to Benje, asking him to meet him at the Red Lion, Basinghall Street, and bring all the papers, and stating that he hoped to pay him £50 on Wednesday; and another from Ernest P
Hobson to Benje, which stated, "I understand you are negotiating for a shop; it is my advice to you not to let the shop without informing the purchaser of the whole of the facts." MR. FARRANT. here stated that he had not been aware of the existence of the letters, but how he would advise Benje to plead guilty. Benje then stated that he was guilty.
Russell, in his defence, stated that he did not know Benje till November, when Shuttleworth introduced him; that Shuttleworth, who lived in the house, assured him that Benje was left the money by will; that Benje brought a copy of John Carter's will, and he saw the original at Somerset House, after which he said he would take the lease on certain terms, and when the money was paid over lie was to have proper remuneration and sufficient money to repair the house; that Brown drew a draft lease, and he (Russell) got it stamped, and Mr. Phillips lent him £25 on it while he obtained a mortgage; that Shuttleworth arranged to take the house and open the shop if he (Russell) would let him have £20, which lie did, and he kept the money, but never did anything. He described his other endeavours to raise money, and stated that Mr. George Andrews advised him to give his address at Manchester Street, as it was a much better address, and stated that he took the house in good faith, and had been made a tool of if the property did not belong to Benje.
GUILTY .—RUSSELL,**who had been convicted of obtaining £450 by false pretences, and had also been tried and acquitted of a like offence— Five Years' Penal Servitude. The police stated that Benje had been tried and acquitted some years ago for endeavouring to obtain money by false pretences and that for three or four years he had been living on the supposed wealth of this estate. BENJE— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
OLD COURT.—May 31st, and Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, June 1st and 2nd, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS AND BODKIN. Prosecuted; and MESSRS. MARSHALL HALL AND PAUL TAYLOR. Defended.
FRANCIS ALLWRIGHT . I am a constable of the D division—I have had experience in the making of plans—on Sunday, 18th March, I went to 51, Graf ton Street, Fitzroy Square, and examined the front and back rooms, first floor—I took careful measurements, from which I prepared the plans which I now produce; they are accurate—there is a landing outside the entrance to those two rooms, and they communicate internally—the back room looks on to a small back yard—as you enter the door of the front room there is a fireplace on the right, with a marble mantel-piece, the jambs of which are of marble and wood; the side has a sharp edge—this card model shows a section of it—on each side of the fire-place there is a cupboard, which projects into the room further than the chimney-piece—the front room is 16 feet by 5 feet, and the back room 13 feet by 10 feet—there was no furniture in the rooms when I was there
on the Sunday; they were quite empty, and the floors were very dirty—there had been a fire in the front room recently; there were ashes in the grate—the back room did not appear to have had any fire in it—there was a quantity of paraffin on the floor of the front room, facing the window; the stain extended almost up to the cupboard door; a quantity of washing blue was amongst the paraffin, which was joined by a stain of blood facing the left-hand cupboard—it went under the door into the cupboard about an inch and a half, where I found some congealed blood—there was a smear of blood on the left-hand corner of the cupboard door—there was also blood on the left-hand side of the jamb of the chimney-piece, on the moulding—the first stain was one foot from the ground, and was six inches long and about an inch and a half wide—then there was a space of three inches, and again another stain eight inches long, in which I found some pieces of hair, which I gave to Dr. Lloyd—one stain extended towards the ironwork of the grate—there was a splashing of blood almost in a line with the bottom stain—on this plan I have marked the position of the blood-stains—on the side of the door leading into the back room I found blood-stains—in the yard there is a sink, a grating; I there found a large quantity of congealed blood, as marked on the plan—I showed that to Dr. Lloyd; there is also a tap for water at the side of the w.c.—at the station I saw a wicker arm-chair, the seat of which is about thirteen inches from the ground; also a piece of iron, which appeared to have been used as a poker; it weighs two pounds six ounces, and is nineteen and a half inches long.
Cross-examined. I went to 51, Graf ton Street, with Mr. Taylorson, managing clerk to Mr. Newton, solicitor for the prisoner—I saw a great quantity of small splashes of blood on the left-hand cupboard, but they were so minute that they would be invisible on the plan—the mark at the bottom of the cupboard has sunk in very much; it had been washed; the blood seemed to have trickled down; it was thicker at the bottom—I was present when this model was taken—the blood-mark at the bottom of the cupboard is a smear that might have been caused by anybody with blood on the hand trying to open or shut the door; it had evidently been wiped by a cloth—the stain on the moulding is a large one—the marks on the communicating door are close to the bottom of the door—the mark on the handle might have been by someone taking hold of it with blood on the hand—the space between the fireplace and the wall is about three feet—the blood in the yard was close against the sink; when I saw it a pail was standing over it, so as to preserve the mark—the sink is simply a drain; the tap is about two feet from the sink—the staircase is about two feet broad, and the landing about four feet ten inches—it is a very old house, with ordinary wooden flooring—I took this photograph of the trunk and the fender.
HENRY ANTHONY STEPHENS . I am a horse trainer—on 15th March I lived at 17, Albany Street, Regent's Park—the deceased, Charles Anthony Stephens, was my father—he was a retired cabdriver—he used to drive his own cab—he was seventy-one years old—his height was about 5 feet 10 3/4 inches, and his weight about fifteen stone; he was a stoutish man—he was in good health, and active for his age—I was living at 17, Albany Street, at the beginning of the year; my mother died on 16th January—she had an account at the London and South-Western Bank, Park Street—after
her death the account was transferred to my father—he was in the habit of carrying money about with him; he always had gold and silver about him—since the death of my mother he has taken to drinking to some extent—when in drink he was always very jolly, not quarrelsome—on Thursday afternoon, 15th March, I saw him at 17, Albany Street, about half-past five; he then appeared to be in his usual health—about half-past seven or eight I heard him leave the house—he did not return that night, or the next—on Saturday, the 17th, I went to Albany Street Police-station, and after making inquiry there I went to Tottenham Court Road station, and there saw the dead body of my father.
Cross-examined. He was a big man, and very strong and active for his age when not in drink—he was frequently in drink since my mother's death—he always had money—the banking account was in my mother's name—when she died there was £50 in the bank—I know he drew it all out within nineteen days of her death—I would not swear that I have seen him with £5 notes; they appeared to be notes—I have seen him with a £5 note on several occasions; I swear that—I was examined before the Magistrate—I most likely swore then, "I don't remember having ever seen my father with any notes in his possession"—a long time ago is different from the present time—I would not swear to any date; but he always had money in his possession, gold and silver, that I swear—when I have asked him for money he had gold and silver mixed together—I could not swear to any dates—it is not the fact that directly he got this money from the bank he took to drink; he always drank, but not so much as since her death—he was a retired cab proprietor—I do not suggest that he had a large number of cabs—he always had one, two at least, a four-wheeler and a hansom—that was when he was living at 9, Regent Square—I don't know of his license being refused on January 26th, 1885—I don't know why he gave up cab driving—9, Regent Square, was a lodging-house, I believe—I don't remember who lived there; there were women and men living there—it was not a brothel, to my knowledge; I would not swear that it was or was not—they did not move from there to 17, Albany Street; they moved to 24, Trevor Square, Chelsea—I can't remember how long they stayed there—I don't remember their moving to 17, Albany Street—I was in America when they moved there; I was in America two or three years—17, Albany Street, is not a brothel, to my knowledge—I did not live there with one of the unfortunate women—Amy Chase lived in the house, not with me—I did not live upon her—am I bound to answer whether I am living with her now?—she is living with me—she is not keeping me—what I do for my living has nothing to do with this case—I have not been for the last three years living on her prostitution, and acting as a bully—she has not been on the streets since she has been living with me; she was before—my mother managed the house, 17, Albany Street, as well as she was able—Amy Chase was not living on the streets, to my knowledge—I have slept with her, but I never lived with her—she has given me money for her rent, to take care of for my mother—I did not know that complaints were made about the house—I do not know that my father threw one of the women downstairs; I can't say he did or did not; I never saw it or heard it—I have been convicted two or three times—I have a bad memory; it may be as many as seven times, I don't emember—I remember
a woman named Elizabeth Hay wood at Marylebone Police-court; I was locked up there—I don't remember being convicted on 19th June, 1893, or refusing to give my occupation; I must have been intoxicated—I am not very often intoxicated—I might have been fined on 6th September, 1893, for obstructing the police, I don't remember—on the day before my father's death I was convicted at Marlborough Street of disorderly conduct in. Carburton Street, and a week afterwards for violence to a woman—that was the same case, not two cases—I went there for rent due to my father—the woman was Constance Holton; she had lived in my mother's house and left it; she was supposed to be married or kept—she left her boxes till she paid her rent; it was something like £7—after my mother died I offered to take £2, and give back the boxes—I don't know that my father went, and offered to take 30s.—it was for pushing my way into the house that I was fined—I did not assault the landlady—this paper is not my writing—I did not write to Holton, threatening to kill her—I did not describe myself as the champion heavy-weight of Somers Town; I must have been drunk if I did—I am not a bully—my father was not a man of the most violent temper, and the common talk of the people at 17, Albany Street—I will not pledge my oath that house was not a brothel—my father never had rows with the women in the house, to my knowledge—Emma Chase has never told me so—I do not know Ada Melbourn or Mrs. Coe—I think I know a woman by the name of" The Squeaker"—she lived there, but not while I was there—I don't know her business—it may have been that 17, Albany Street, was a brothel kept by my mother, and it may not—I don't believe that 9, Regent Square, was—it is about twelve months since I did regular work—since the death of my mother I have kept Miss Chase—I have not had a violent quarrel with her this morning.
Re-examined. I have never been present when my father has committed any act of violence towards any woman.
JOHN LISCOMB . I am the manager of the Camden Town branch of the London and South-Western Bank in Park Street—in January last Mrs. Stephens had a deposit account of £50 with us—on 23rd January that amount was transferred into the name of Charles Anthony Stephens—on that day he drew out £30, four £5 notes and £10 in gold—on the 29th he drew out £5 in gold, and on 12th February he drew out £15 in gold, which closed the account.
Cross-examined. The numbers on the notes have been furnished to the police—the £50 had been in Mrs. Stephens' name for twelve months—within twenty-five days of her death it was all drawn out—the husband never paid in anything.
ELEN BRICKNELL . I live with my mother, Matilda Clara Bricknell, on the ground floor of 51, Graf ton Street, Fitzroy Square—I am a tailoress—on Thursday evening, 15th March, about ten minutes past ten, I was standing at the front door, and saw the prisoner come in with a tall, elderly gentleman—I had known the prisoner as a lodger in the house—I heard her say to the man, "Come along, dad," and he followed her into the passage, and up the staircase—he seemed very drunk; he staggered as he went; he hung his head down, and lurched—he had on an overcoat and a high hat—I did not see anything remarkable about the prisoner as to liquor—they went up to the first floor, and, as far as I could tell, into the front room—
I did not hear the door locked—I slept on the ground floor I went to bed shortly after their arrival—my mother was at home; she slept in the back room, I slept in the front room, that was immediately below the prisoner's sitting room—after I had got into bed I heard somebody walking about in the room above, the footsteps of one person—I soon went to sleep, and slept the whole night through up to seven in the morning—I was not disturbed at all in the course of the night—when I got up, in consequence of something that was said to me, I went into the back parlour, where my mother slept, and looked through the window into the back yard, and noticed some blood near the sink—I did not see the prisoner that day, not to notice her, but on the Saturday afternoon I was at home when her things were being moved, and I then saw her she seemed to be very drunk.
Cross-examined. I did not see her at all on the Friday—on the Thursday I went to bed about a quarter or half an hour after they came in—I am a heavy sleeper; I heard nothing in the night—I should think I went to sleep about a quarter to eleven.
LOUISA HUTCHINS . I live with my mother at 51, Grafton street—a sister lives with us—the three of us occupied both rooms on the second floor on Thursday night, 15th March, I was going out to a dance, and about eleven I was dressing in the front room; my mother was there with—me as I was dressing I heard a dreadful crash; it appeared to come from downstairs; I could hardly say from which room; it appeared to come from the front room, first floor—it shook the room—I went out on to the landing, and I heard a very faint cry; it sounded like "Murder!"—it was a man's voice I went back and told mother; then I went on with my dressing, and finished about a quarter past eleven, as near as I can remember, and then I went out to the dance—I went alone—as I went down-stairs I passed the first floor landing—I heard no sounds—I got back from the dance about four in the morning—I found my mother sitting up—I went to bed shortly after next morning (Friday) I went out to my work about nine, and got back about nine in the evening next day (Saturday) I saw the prisoner moving, when some things were being taken away—she was very drunk.
Cross-examined. I am able to fix the time pretty accurately when I was going to the dance as about eleven the noise I heard was about eleven, as near as I could tell—I did not go sown after hearing it; I went out on to our landing, and then I heard a sound like a man's voice; it sounded like a man's—I never heard the prisoner's voice; it was very faint and very mumbled—I don't think it was a woman's voice—the prisoner spoke to me on Sunday morning, but I could not recognise her voice—I could not say it was "murder" that I heard—I saw the trunk moved on the Saturday; it was slided downstairs.
LOUISA HUTCHINS . I live with my daughters on second floor, 51, Grafton street—I occupy the two rooms—I knew the prisoner prior to the 15th of march—she was lodging in the house about ten days—on Thursday evening, 15th march, I remember her going out about nine, as near as possible—she was alone—later on I heard sounds of two people coming up the stairs—I heard the unlocking of a door on the first floor, which I afterwards heard relocked—that was between a quarter to and eleven—my daughter was dressing for a dance, and I was in the same
room assisting her to dress—it was while she was doing her hair that I heard the door unlocked and locked—almost immediately after I heard a heavy crash in the room, which shook everything in our room—my daughter ran to the top of our landing, remained there a short time, and then returned to the room—she completed her dressing, and went away to the dance—after she had gone I went to the top of the landing and listened, more than once—after that I took off my shoes and listened, and I heard a fearful crashing noise, as though someone was breaking something—I went down the staircase leading to the door of the first floor front, and remained there some little time—I heard a lot of talking—it was a man's voice—I heard him say, "Give me my five pounds"; and I heard the woman's voice say, "I will give you an account of that five pounds presently"—the speaking continued between the two, and then a sloshing of water went on—I heard a lot of indistinct words, and a lot of mumbling, such as would be from a man, and I thought it was a man in drink—he said, "Take me to the Albert Road," as I understood it—the sloshing of water still went on, and the breaking sound; it was something like someone breaking coke, a dead sound; that is the only sound I could put it to, a breaking with some instrument, about five or six times—after some time all was quiet—the dead sound was not above two or three minutes before I heard the words about the five pounds; it was after I heard the crashing—I was half-way down the stairs when I heard that—when all was quiet I went back to my room; I left the door open, and sat down—while there I heard another terrible crash; it was the same as the first, it shook everything; that was about twenty-five minutes past twelve, I think, as near as possible—I then went down again to the prisoner's landing, and whilst there I heard the same voices in the room; I heard the woman say, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell? I will fetch you brandy, and soon make you better"—the sloshing of water was still going on, and I heard the mumbling sound of a man's voice; it was too indistinct to understand; it was a different voice to the woman's, and it had a moaning sound—I then heard someone approaching the door opening on to the landing, and I went upstairs towards my own room; as I went up I stumbled—I saw the prisoner come out of the room; I believe she saw me—she locked the door and took the key out—she was carrying a pail with a handle to it; I can't say what it contained—I heard her go downstairs to the back door leading into the yard, and there I heard the sound as of the emptying of water, and some water drawn; she returned to the house, and stood the pail in the passage on the ground floor, and then left the house by the front street door—I went up, and from my front window I saw her go into the Grafton Arms, immediately opposite; she came back to the house, and I heard her take up the pail and bring it up to her room, unlock the door, and relock it—I then went down again and stood outside her door, and I heard her say, "Speak! speak! speak!" three times, and the third time she gave a very passionate thrill, that was the loudest voice right through the night—up to that time both voices had been very low indeed—a few minutes afterwards I heard a mumbling sound, like a man's voice, but it was too indistinct to hear anything—I heard the sloshing of water; she had two pails of water previous to that, one at two and one at three—I should say that hearing the her say "Speak!" would be beyond
One o'clock; it was after half-past twelve, after she had fetched the brandy—I then went back to my room, and I was to and fro the front and back rooms for and hour or so after; I left the door of the back room open, the front room door was shut—about two o'clock I heard the prisoner leave her room for another pail of water, going as before to the back door, emptying, drawing, and returning—there was then an interval of about another hour, during which I heard nothing—about three I was sitting by my fire in the front room when I heard another terrible crash; just before there I heard her leave the room a second time, going again to the sink, emptying the pail, drawing water, and returning—after hearing the crash at three I went down again and listened at her door, but did not hear a sound—about four I heard the sound of cracking tissue paper, and as of wood breaking; that was all—the sloshing of water still continued—the cracking of the wood was about three—then I went upstairs again, and remained till my daughter came home, about four—I kept my door open, but I heard no more—about that time my second daughter returned—I went down to let her in—she had also been to the dance—I listened at the prisoner's door as I went down, but I heard nothing—after my second daughter had gone to bed I went down-stairs, and about four steps from the prisoner's door I sat down—I heard nothing, only the cracking sound of tissue paper—that was the first time I heard the sound of crushing paper—I heard no voice—there was a light coming from under the prisoner's door at the time—under the door I could see the shadow of someone moving about the room—it was a woman, by the trail of the dress—I remained there form ten minutes to a quarter of and hour—I heard nothing but the paper—I then went upstairs, and sat at my window till a quarter to eight to watch if anyone went out—I did not see anyone—I did not go to bed at all that night—my sister, Mrs. Holloway, was with me in the room the whole of the night—about a quarter to eight I went downstairs and knocked at Mrs. Bricknell's door; she slept on the ground floor—I had some conversation with her, and went with her into the back yard, and in the sink there I saw a quantity of blood—on returning I saw on the floor of the passage, near the foot of the stairs, a ring of blood, as if a pail had stood there—whilst I was in the yard I looked up at the prisoner's back room window—it was open very wide—on seeing that I spoke to Mr. Simmonds, my landlord, who lived next door, at 54, and he came in and we went up, and he knocked at the prisoner's front room door—there was no answer—he then got a ladder, put it up against the back room window, and went up and looked in; he came down and made a communication to me—that was between eight and nine—I went back to my room—about half-past nine, as I came down form my room, I saw the prisoner coming out of her back room, carrying a red blind—she seemed very drunk—she locked the door after her—about that time she went out three times, always unlocking and locking the door—on the third occasion on her return she went into the front room, and, the door being open, I saw a large trunk near the door; it was shut, not corded. (The trunk was produced)—it was this kind of trunk—it was standing close to the opening of the door—she had to get to the back of the door before she could close it; there was not sufficient room—this was about twelve o'clock on the Friday morning, the 16th—she was
constantly in and out the whole of the Friday afternoon, always locking the door after her—about five in the early morning of Saturday, the 17th, I heard her moving about her room—she was in and out on that day very much, as she had been on the Friday—she went into the back yard to the dustbin—I met her several times—she had things in her hand, useless things, throwing them on the dustheap—she spoke to me that morning; she placed her hands together, and said, "Oh, forgive me, madam; I am going to leave to-day"—I said, "Oh, don't get away from me"—she was still in drink, and so remained the whole day until I last saw her, getting no better—about twelve a man came to move her things—they were taken away on three separate journeys, the last being about five in the afternoon—the prisoner followed the last load, walking—I followed the first and second loads, and saw they were taken to 56, Marylebone Street—I returned to Grafton Street, and was there when the prisoner left—Mr. Simmonds was in the house after the prisoner had gone; I spoke to him, and went with him into the two rooms which the prisoner had occupied—I saw a number of blood-stains in the front room, and on the door leading to the back room—about six that evening I went to Tottenham Court Road Police-station, and made a communication to the police; Sergeant Kane was present at the time.
Cross-examined. The three crashes I heard seemed to be so very much alike I can hardly say which was the loudest—it is an old house; any weight of 15 or 16 stone would go through—it was the first crash that called my attention—it was a fall of something; I could not tell what—I did not know that the prisoner kept her coals in an orange box—the sound I heard was like placing coal on the hearth and breaking it with a hammer—I heard a good deal of talking—I say I heard a man's voice saying "Give me back my five pounds"—I can pledge my oath those were the exact words I heard—I know the prisoner's voice well—I never heard her sober voice since I have been in the house; it always seemed the same; I have never seen her sober—it was not her voice that said, "Give me back my five pounds"—I understood him to say, "Take me to Albert Road"—I admit that was a mistake—it sounded like a drunken man's voice—I did not hear anything said about a pound by the woman—the crash was before the conversation—I was listening close up to the door—the words were not, "What about my pound?"; it was, "Give me my five pounds"—that was quite distinct enough for me to hear—I am positive—I am telling you the truth—I am quite right about the "five pounds"—when the woman said "I will give you an account of that," I thought he was the woman's husband, and that it was a row between man and wife over money matters—I first heard the sloshing of water after the first fall; about the same time as about the five pounds—the sloshing of water continued all night—it was not the noise of wringing out a cloth in a pail of water—it seemed to me as if there was a pail of water washing something down—the second crash was two or three minutes after getting the brandy, at half-past twelve—one had not a clock under one's eye all the time—it was practically all instantaneously after the fall—she was only absent a few minutes in getting the brandy; about five minutes—she was very quick on her feet—I did not notice the pail—it was such a pail as anyone would use for cleaning purposes—it was not an ordinary slop pail; it was a cleaning pail—the locking the
door was quite a usual thing—she always locked herself in—it was after taking up the brandy that she said, "Speak! speak! speak!" the last time in a passionate voice, angry: it was not a shriek of terror—the cracking of paper might have been for the purpose of lighting a fire that had gone out—it was Mrs. Bricknell that first told me about the blood, I am quite sure, she spoke of it as a surprise when I went to her door—I did not know of its existence; she had been told of it—I have known Mrs. Bricknell since I have been in the house—she was there sixteen months before I was—she is not a friend of mine—I did not tell her anything about the five pounds—we had not a long talk about this matter—I made a statement to Sergeant Kane—I said before the Magistrate, "I came to the conclusion that there had been a fight in the room"—I have no reason for altering that—I thought during the night that there had been a fight.
Re-examined. It was Mrs. Bricknell who first drew my attention to the blood by the sink in the yard.
MARY HOLLOWAY . I live at 51, Grafton Street—I am sister of Mrs. Hutchins—on Thursday night, 15th March, I was with her in the front room—I heard somebody go into the first floor room, and lock the door—I heard the sound as of a heavy fall.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that between the 17th and 21st March several of us in the house talked over the occurrence.
PHILIP SAMUEL . I am a licensed victualler, keeping the Grafton Arms, 72, Grafton Street; it is directly opposite 51—I knew the prisoner as a customer for a short time—on Thursday, 15th March, I was in the bar when she came in, between ten minutes and half-past twelve, for half a pint of brandy—she paid for it, I can't exactly remember in what way; I think it must have been in silver—she took the brandy with her in a bottle—this (Produced) is one of my bottles.
Cross-examined. It was ordinary brandy—she paid 1s. 8d. for it—it contained its proper percentage of alcohol—she had frequently visited the house for about a fortnight—she always paid for what she had—she usually had half a pint of Scotch whisky on Saturday, but usually drank it in the house, or half a pint of stout and mild.
MARY ANN HOLMES . I am the wife of Frederick Holmes, a packer, employed by Messrs. Shoolbred—we occupy the third floor at 51, Grafton Street—I slept there on the night of Thursday, 15th March—I heard nothing in the night to disturb me—about half-past seven on the morning of the 16th I went down into the back yard, and near the sink I saw some clotted blood—I first spoke of it to a young woman named Minnie Dowton—afterwards Mrs. Bricknell came into the yard, and I spoke to her about it, and called her attention to it, and she took a broom and swept the blood into the sink—that was soon after half-past seven in the morning; I then left the yard—about eight I came downstairs and met Mrs. Hutchins, who made a statement to me, and after that I saw Mr. Simmonds in the yard.
Cross-examined. When I came down I knew nothing of the disturbance in the night—I did not attach any importance to the blood; if I had not seen anyone I should not have mentioned it—it did not strike me as strange that Mrs. Bricknell should sweep it away.
Re-examined. I was there when she did it; she did it immediately
after I spoke about it—there was not a great deal of it, just about the size of my hand.
ARTHUR GALL . I am assistant to Mr. Matheson, chemist, 108, New Oxford Street; the shop is always open, day and night—on the early morning of 16th March, between half-past five and six, a female drove up to the shop—I do not recognise the prisoner—I served her with bandages and plaisters; they were the ordinary surgical bandages in a roll—when I was getting them I asked her if anything had happened, any accident—she said, "No, nothing much; it was a cut head"—she asked, "What is the best thing to do, to bind it up?"—I told her it was a case for a surgeon; there might be some foreign matter in it to cause a lot of trouble if not properly cleansed; she said she did not think there was anything in it, because it had bled well, and the bleeding had stopped—she did not mention whose head it was, or what had led up to the cut—these bandages (Produced) are exactly similar to what we sell.
Cross-examined. She did not say that she had had a quarrel with her husband—she said she had had a bit of a row—before the Magistrate I said that she said the wound had bled well—she said the bleeding had stopped—I did not tell Sergeant Kane that she said her husband had had a fall.
WILLIAM BUTT . I am barman at the Horseshoe, in Tottenham Court Road—on 16th March, about a quarter past six in the morning, the prisoner came into the bar and bought half a pint of gin, paying for it with a shilling—it came to tenpence, and twopence for the bottle, which she took with her.
WILLIAM THOMAS SIMMONS . I am an upholsterer, of 49, Grafton Street—my grandmother is landlady of No. 51—I look after it for her—the prisoner came to live there on 2nd of last March—she occupied the first floor, at 11s. a week—she told me she was a music governess—she paid a week's rent in advance, and she paid the next week in advance—on Friday morning, 16th March, about eight, Mrs. Hutchins came and made a communication to me—I got a ladder, climbed up to the back window of 51, and looked in—the door between the back and front rooms was partly open—I saw a bed in the back room—something was thrown over it—the bed appeared to be made, from what I could see at a distance—the things in the room seemed in good order—I could see a table, and, as far as I could see, the furniture was in its proper place—the prisoner did not give me any notice of moving until Saturday, 17th—she then said she was not satisfied with the house, she was not comfortable, and wanted to move—she paid me 11s., in lieu of notice—I was at the house on the Saturday afternoon when the last lot of her things was going away—I saw one load moved; that was the trunk—she left the house that afternoon.
Cross-examined. The rooms were let unfurnished; she furnished them herself—when she paid me the first 11s. I did not notice whet her she had other money with her; she took it out of her purse—she paid me 10s. for some things she bought of me—she did not appear absolutely without means.
Re-examined. She paid me the 10s. at different times, as she bought them.
Street—the prisoner lodged with me for something like eighteen months and left on 2nd March—my husband was a builder; he has been dead about two years—he used in his trade this piece of iron, and I have often used it as a poker for the copper; it was kept in the wash-house—I missed it about Christmas—I did not know what had become of it.
Cross-examined. I was not aware what was in the prisoner's room—she paid me 10s. 6d. a week—I had no difficulty in getting my rent; her husband paid it—she was in the habit of being visited every Saturday by a gentleman who I thought was her husband; he stayed with her every week; he had the appearance of a gentleman—she was a governess, and went out teaching; that was what she told me.
HARRIET JANE CUMBECK . I am married, and live at 57, Upper Marylebone Street—I had two rooms to let at 56—on Tuesday, 13th March, the prisoner came to see me about taking those rooms—she could only see one room then, the front, the door of the other could not be opened—I did not see her between the Tuesday and the Saturday, when she came into occupation of both rooms—she paid me 6s. deposit; the rent was 10s. 6d. a week—she paid me in silver.
EMMA CROSSLAND . I am a widow, of 164, Great Tichfield Street, Oxford Street; on Thursday afternoon, 15th March, the prisoner came to me about some rooms which I had to let—the matter fell through—on Friday, the 16th, she came again with regard to a room that I had to let at another house; she saw the room, and said she would take it, and she paid 7s. in advance; she paid in silver—she was not very sober at the time—I made some inquiry, and determined not to accept her as a tenant, and returned her the money.
Cross-examined. I went to 51, Grafton Street, she gave me that address—I did not take her because I did not want anybody that drank—it is not usual to pay in advance for unfurnished rooms; I did not ask for it, she wished to pay it; 7s. was the rent.
WILLIAM BURROWS . I am assistant to a pawnbroker of 26, Mortimer Street, Regent Street—the prisoner came to the shop on the morning of the 15th March, and pawned a cloak for 5s.; I gave her a duplicate—this (Produced) is it, it is dated the 15th; the one I retained is dated the 14th.
Cross-examined. I am sure as to the date—as a rule things pawned are not redeemed, among a certain class, it is a convenient way of selling—a pawnbroker will often lend more on an article than its intrinsic value, the fashion alters so much; it is a regular thing in the trade that persons pawn things without intending to redeem them; pawnbrokers are victims to that kind of thing.
FRANCIS GIBBONS . I was a furniture dealer, at 111, Cleveland Street, in February and March—I saw the prisoner on several occasions—she came in February to buy some things—the next time I saw her was Friday, 16th March, about five p.m., at my shop—she looked at some things, and finally selected and paid for a settee, two gipsy-tables, and a chair, which came together to 27s. 6d.—my wife came in—the prisoner tendered her a sovereign and a half sovereign, which she took from a purse—I saw inside the purse several pieces of gold money, and a package of paper that she drew my attention to, saying it was a £5 note—she mentioned that the contents of her purse were her quarter's salary, and that she was a daily governess—I was to be told later on where to send
the goods; she gave as the reason that she was removing, and had not decided then on the place she was going to—my truck was standing there—she asked if I should deliver the goods with that, and I said, "Yes," and she asked if I would allow my man to take a box to Charing Cross Station for her that afternoon—I told her it would be cheaper for her to go by cab; and then I asked her if the box was a large one—she said, "No; just an ordinary travelling trunk"—I told her I was too busy for my man to go, and suggested that a cab would be much cheaper—she left, and came back about seven o'clock, and gave an address in Great Tichfield Street—the goods were sent there—I afterwards got another message, and in consequence brought them back the same evening—next morning, Saturday, about 8.30, I saw her, and told her I had got the things back—she said she would let me know a little later on where they were to go—about an hour afterwards she came back, and gave me an address on an envelope, and told me to go to it, and ask for the key, and deliver the goods at the house next to it, 57, Upper Marylebone Street, I believe—she asked me if I would allow my man that took those things to move some things for her from Grafton Street to Upper Marylebone Street—I accordingly sent Leach and my son, Herbert Gibbons, to 51, Grafton Street, and I went later on to see why they had been so long, as they were some time—I saw a trunk in the forecourt of 51, Grafton Street—I assisted Leach and my son to put it on the truck they had brought with them—they were unable to do it by themselves, owing to its weight—I remarked that it was very heavy, and the prisoner said, "Yes, it is books, and that sort of thing, that I use in my business"—I stayed at Grafton Street till the last load of furniture had gone away; I sent for another truck—I accompanied the prisoner to Upper Marylebone Street—she there spoke about and bargained for some other furniture which she had previously seen at my shop; she agreed to pay 26s., I think, for it; she did not pay it—it was in addition to the settee and other things—she mentioned that her husband would be home at nine o'clock, and then they would come round and pay for it—she did not pay for the second lot of things—I only assisted in getting the things into 57, Upper Marylebone Street, from the truck; but she asked my son to stop and help her—I saw the trunk in the front room in front of the door; I put it behind the door—she said she should like my man to take it for her to Charing Cross Station on Monday—I said if we were not too busy he could do it—on one of the occasions when she spoke of the trunk she mentioned the Continent as its destination, and on the other she mentioned Berlin—I left her about seven o'clock that evening, and she paid me 5s. in silver for moving the furniture, taking the money from her purse—at that time she drew out of her purse a bank note, saying that was the only one she had, she had lost the other; she had been lying on the couch in front of the door—I saw some pawntickets in the purse—she paid me 32s. 6d. altogether—she gave the boy and man a gratuity of 1s. each, and left 6d. as a gratuity to the persons who took the goods home.
Cross-examined. She had been to me about a fortnight previously to buy furniture, and I knew her again—she appeared to be somewhat peculiar, but not drunk, when she came on the Friday—it was a peculiarity that might not have been due to drink—she bargained about the
furniture—I do not remember her saying she had seen a settee in Pentonville Road for which she was in treaty—she did not say she had seen other furniture at a certain price, and try to beat me down in consequence—I had no particular reason to notice how much money was in her purse after she had paid me, except that she called our attention to it—there were several gold pieces left after she had taken out the 30s.—this is the sort of purse she had, with openings in it—I am shortsighted—I am sure there were several pieces of gold in the purse after she had paid us—I was not a foot from the purse—I made a statement to Inspector Towner—I did not tell him about the prisoner tapping the purse and speaking of a quarter's salary, or about the prisoner being asleep on the couch and losing the £5 note, or of seeing gold in the purse, or anything about what money I had seen—I said nothing at the inquest about the losing of the £5 note—my wife agrees that there was money in the purse—the note I saw on the Friday night may, or may not, have been a £5 note, but what I saw on Saturday most certainly was a £5 note—I saw it opened by her, and it was a £5 note, to the best of my belief—she did not pay the 26s. for the other furniture then, because at that time she had not bought it—she had agreed to give 26s., and her husband was to pay for it in the evening, but she had not bought it; she had only bought it subject to her husband's approval—he was coming round at nine o'clock to pay for it—I do not suggest that she could not pay for it because she had not got the money—on Friday she selected goods she bought, and she selected some others—a £5 note was in her possession on Friday morning—I know that no £5 note was found on her or in her possession—a medallion was shown to me at the Police-court; that was not one of the gold pieces—I did not see any gold in the purse after Friday night—she had not been drinking on the Saturday to any great excess—she was not very drunk, but she had been drinking—she was peculiar when sober, and the extent of her drunkenness was not apparent—I identify this purse—I thought it was the one when Mr. Newton asked me about it at the Police-court—I think so now—I said at the Police-court I would not swear positively to it—the note was exhibited to me to look at—I think the coins I saw were both sovereigns and half-sovereigns—I did not take particular notice, and I had not my glasses on.
Re-examined. On the Friday the note remained in the purse, folded, the whole time—it looked like a £5 note—on the Saturday the prisoner took a note out of her purse, and opened it, and showed it to me—that was at Grafton Street—I walked with her from Grafton Road to Upper Marylebone Street—she had no opportunity, that I know of, of getting rid of it then, or until I left her—she did not leave me—I left her about seven, some time before she was arrested—the note I saw at Grafton Street on the Saturday was a genuine £5 note, so far as I could see—the words "Five" and the figures" £5" were on it—with regard to it she said she had only that one; she had lost the other—I was directly behind her, looking over her shoulder, when I saw it—it was a fairly clean note—when she opened it she said she had lost the other one—I did not know what she referred to.
By MR. HALL. I said before the Magistrate, "She drew out what looked like a £5 note"—the question was put to me by Mr. Newton, and
I agreed to it; it did look like a £5 note—I did say it was a £5 note; but Mr. Newton corrected me, and I accepted it.
By MR. MATHEWS. Mr. Newton, who defended the prisoner before the Magistrate, made some interruption about it—I said it was a £5 note—he said it looked like a £5 note, and I said, "Yes, it did"—I was examined before the Magistrate on 13th April, and before the Coroner on 21st March—I have not a clear recollection of whether I said then, "On Saturday I saw an open £5 note in her hand."
By the COURT. She paid me for the moving, in Grafton Street, before it was completed.
MARY GIBBONS . I am the wife of the last witness, and live now at 55, Marchmont Street—about five p.m. on Friday, 16th March, when we were living and carrying on business at 111, Cleveland Street, the prisoner came in and bought some furniture, for which she paid with a sovereign and a half-sovereign—I took 28s. and gave her a florin change—she took the gold from a purse similar to this—I saw into the purse when she opened it, and saw several gold pieces in it; no silver coins—I also saw what I took to be a note, or notes—next day (Saturday) I saw her twice, in the morning and about midday—on the second occasion she asked me to go with her to the Bromley Arms, and we had drink together there—she paid for it, tendering a florin—she asked the landlady for change for a sovereign, and asked that it might be in half-crowns—she handed her a sovereign, which she took from her purse—I then saw silver coins in the purse—the landlady changed the sovereign; I am not certain whether in half-crowns—the prisoner put the coins in her purse—that was the last I saw of her.
Cross-examined. My statement to the police was that I had seen a good deal of money—when I was paid the 30s. I should say more than 30s. or £2 in gold was left in the purse—for two or three seconds she kept the purse open; long enough for me to see—I had no reason for noticing how much there was; it did not matter to me after she paid me the 30s.—I saw what I believed to be a bank-note—I and my husband have talked the matter over more or less.
GEORGE LEACH . I am in the employ of Mr. Gibbons—on 17th March I was employed by him at 111, Cleveland Street, and I went to 51, Grafton Street, about midday—I saw the prisoner there—she seemed to have been drinking—I went to her rooms on the first floor—in the front room I saw a trunk similar to this—she wanted it tied up with cord—she said it was going to Berlin—there was some old cord loose on the floor—she produced some new cord—Herbert Gibbons was present—she told us to tie up the box very strongly with the new cord, as she wanted it to go on a journey—she said she was going on a holiday after the trunk—after we had tied it once round we had enough cord, and she said, "I want it tied double," which we did as she told us—after tying; it, it was too heavy to take on our back; assisted by Herbert Gibbons I had to slip it down the stairs—the prisoner followed us as we slipped it down—then my master, Herbert and I put it on the truck, which was there, and took it to Upper Marylebone Street—among the goods removed from Grafton Street to Upper Marylebone Street there was an iron fender, which was taken from the fireplace of the front room at Graf ton Street—the prisoner continued much about the same as regards drink during all the time she
was walking with us to Upper Marylebone Street—she sent me to get drink for me and her, for all three of us—this (Produced) is like the fender—she gave me Is., I think, for drink altogether—she asked if the trunk would be opened when it got to the other side, and I told her I thought it would; I thought it would be opened before it got over there, because the Customs might think there was tobacco or something in the box—she asked us to take the box on Monday to Charing Cross Station, and she would give us 2s. each; that had nothing to do with Saturday's job—we agreed to do so—we only had 1s. from her in the course of the day—the last we saw of her was about seven o'clock that evening at Upper Marylebone Street—I left Herbert Gibbons behind me.
Cross-examined. I and Herbert Gibbons together tried to lift the box, and we could not do it—I am accustomed to lifting things and so is Gibbons—the box had handles—we would be able to lift a greater weight with handles than by taking it in our arms—I am five feet two—the old cord I saw with the box appeared cut at one end and frayed at the other, and passed through the handles; it was not even tied up—it was on the floor round the box when I went into the room.
HERBERT GIBBONS . I am the son of Francis Gibbons—on Friday night, the 16th March, I took some furniture from my father's shop to Great Tichfield Street—afterwards the goods were returned to my father's shop—I afterwards went to Graf ton Street, and told the prisoner what had happened—next morning I saw the prisoner at my father's shop two or three times—in consequence of what she said I went to Great Tichfield Street, where I got from Mrs. Crossman a deposit of 7s. which had been left there—after I had got the deposit I found the prisoner with Leach in the Bromley public-house, in Cleveland Street—I gave her the money, and went back to Grafton Street, where I saw on the first floor the large trunk which I have seen since—some cord was lying round; it was not fastened—the prisoner said she wanted it fastened with rope—she wanted it to go to Berlin—she said it contained clothes that she would want while she was away at Berlin, where she was going in a few days for about three weeks—she said on Monday she should want me to take the trunk to Charing Cross Station—she pointed to some rope which was lying by the side of the trunk, and said that it was to be used to cord it up—I knew at that time her things were to be removed to Upper Marylebone Street—she said the trunk was to be put in the front room, and I was not to let anyone know where she was moving to, as, when she was boozed, they had her money—Leach and I slipped the trunk downstairs, and put it on a truck, and it was taken away to Upper Marylebone Street, and put in the front room—I took a fender like that produced from the front room at Grafton Street—an oil stove was overturned in that room, and the paraffin was lying about the floor—when the things were taken to Upper Marylebone Street the prisoner asked me in, and I stayed there a little while to hang up the pictures and put the place straight—she said her husband would be there shortly—I began upon the front room—she was sitting on the couch—then she asked me to do the back room—while I was putting it straight the police came—that was very soon after seven—I opened the door to them—from what Sergeant Kane said, I went and fetched Inspector Reed
from just outside—then I went immediately and spoke to my father, and returned to Upper Marylebone Street—I had a conversation with the police in the front room I had put straight—I went home, and returned to Marylebone Street in about five minutes—I heard a conversation between the police and the prisoner—I saw the trunk I had helped to remove opened by Reed—inside it I saw a piece of cloth, carpet, or some such thing, and underneath, in a crouched-down position, was the body of an old man—the prisoner was taken into custody, and I was asked to remain with them some little time—I went to the station with Inspector Reed—I was detained while making a statement, and then I went home about midnight—on Saturday the prisoner gave me eighteenpence.
Cross-examined. I took the fender myself—I did not notice it had been recently blackleaded—it was taken as it is—I received some black-lead brushes and black lead in a large box—she said she was expecting her husband—I was not there when a gentleman did come later on—the old rope I saw had been cut or untied—I said before the Magistrate, "I believe the old rope which was partly round the box was cut at the bottom, close to the ground"—it had that appearance—I formed the opinion the rope had been united since it had been put round the box—I went with the prisoner from Grafton Street to Marylebone Street, and was practically with her till I was arrested—I did not see her get rid of anything—she said at once I had nothing to do with it; I had only removed it—I afterwards found Mrs. Bricknell at the station—I heard her say, "That woman did help me to wash up the blood"—Leach and I agreed it was impossible for us to lift the box—that is true.
ALFRED REED . (Police-Inspector D). On Saturday, 17th March, about a quarter past six in the afternoon, in consequence of information, I went with Sergeant Kane to 51, Grafton Street, and examined the condition of two rooms on the first floor—I saw the blood-stains in the front room, and on the door leading to the back room—I received information from the inhabitants of the house, and then went with Kane to 56, Upper Marylebone Street—the front door was open—we went into a back room on the ground floor, and there saw the prisoner—I said, "We have been to the rooms you lately occupied at Grafton Street; can you account for the blood-marks in the room at that address?"—she said, "Yes; my monthlies came on while I was there, which is the cause"—I said, "Where is the large trunk which was removed with your furniture?"—she pointed to a trunk under the window, and said, "There it is"—that trunk was examined by myself and Sergeant Kane, and in it were found some tin cans and other articles—I then said to Kane, "You had better go to Grafton Street and get a witness who can identify the trunk"—he left, and I remained with the prisoner—I asked her if she occupied any other part of the house than the room we were in—she said, "No"—after a short absence Kane returned, and in the prisoner's hearing he said, "This woman occupies the front room as well as the back"—upon that we went into the front room, accompanied by the prisoner, and behind the door of that room I saw a large trunk—I said, "Is this your trunk?"—she said, "Yes"—it was tightly corded, and locked—I said, "Will you give me the keys, as I want to see what is inside?"—she handed me this bunch of keys—I tried them all to the trunk, but none fitted it—I then said, "I want to know what is in this trunk, and I am going to break it open"—I
asked her if she had any more keys—she said, "No others"—I said, "Where is the other bunch of keys that I saw in the back room?"—she said, "They are there now"—I went into the back room and searched for them, but failed to find them—I returned to the front room, and said, "I intend to break it open"—I cut the cord, forced a portion of the lock, and opened the trunk—there was a piece of carpet on the top—I pulled a corner of it on one side, and saw a man's head—I saw signs of blood upon it—on looking further I saw the dead body of a man—he was in a sitting position, bent, with his head leaning slightly forward, the top of the body leaning over the lower portion—this (Produced) is the trunk—the prisoner was then arrested by Kane—I left the house to go for assistance—I shortly returned with a cab, and conveyed the prisoner and the trunk containing the body to Tottenham Court Road Station, where the prisoner was charged with feloniously killing and slaying, on 15th March, a man, at that time unknown—she made no answer at that time—soon after, Henry Stephens arrived, and identified the body—the prisoner was then re-charged with the wilful murder of Charles Anthony Stephens—I was not present when the re-charge was read over—I saw a number of things in the rooms at Upper Marylebone Street; articles of furniture and household utensils—among other things this pail, with a handle to it—that wan in the trunk—I also produce a pail without a handle that was found in the back yard at 51, Grafton Street, which has been identified by Mrs. Bricknell—I examined the dustheap there, but found nothing relating to the case—I saw a thimble, found by Inspector Turner, in the trunk, resting on the body, under the carpet—among the prisoner's effects at Upper Marylebone Street I found two other thimbles—everything there was examined—the two thimbles are about the same size as the one found in the trunk—one is a trifle larger in diameter, and considerably shorter.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had no doubt been drinking; she did not appear to be excited—she gave two keys to Kane after she had given me this bunch; it had several keys upon it; neither of the two keys fitted the trunk—then I said, "Where is the other bunch of keys you had in your hand?" and she said, "They are in the back room now"—on the following day I found them under the chair on which she had been sitting; that bunch contained the key of the trunk—I don't recollect her saying, "I cannot find them"—I would not say she did not; I did not hear her—I had noticed two bunches of keys in her possession in the back room—the trunk had a common lock—I was present a few days afterwards when the prisoner made a statement about Mrs. Bricknell having brought up a pail without a handle; that was taken down by Kane—when I searched the place at Upper Marylebone Street I did not find much under-linen or boots—at the prisoner's request I went to find certain articles, but I could not find them, and I came back and told her so—a complaint had been made to the authorities about under-clothing being missing—I opened the box myself—I noticed that the tapes which support the lid were not broken; they are there now; they are only fixed in with tin tacks; any pressure would tear them away—I was present when the dead body was lifted out of the trunk in the cell—Ford lifted him out—a quantity of blood immediately came from the head—he was laid flat on the floor, face upwards, and then the blood came out—the head came in contact with the floor of the cell—
with the exception of a very slight stain, there were no marks of blood in the trunk—it came from the head, from the wounds; it was a large quantity, considering the wounds—I should say there might be half a tea-cup full; it made a large stain on the boards—the trunk is thirty-four inches long and twenty-six inches deep on the outside; without the lid it is seventeen inches; there is a beading in front, a little broken.
Q. Assuming that this body was lifted into the trunk, in a sitting position, do you believe it possible that the prisoner, who is 108 lbs. in weight and live feet and a half in height, could lift that body alone into the trunk? A. In my opinion, she could not have done it unaided—he was a big man—I have had experience in lifting a dead body—it is heavier to lift than a living one.
Re-examined. The articles which the prisoner asked me to find were articles of under-clothing only—I had not known her before the 7th March—I have not examined her in any way to test her strength—I have not made any experiment or test on which to found my opinion that she could not have lifted the body into the trunk; I put myself in; I did that unaided.
JOHN KANE . (Police-Sergeant D). On the evening of 17th March, about six, in consequence of what Mrs. Hutchins said, I went to 51, Graf ton Street, and, after looking at the first floor rooms there, I went to 56, Upper Marylebone Street—I saw Herbert Gibbons at the door, and then went into the back room and saw the prisoner—she said, "Hallo, Sergeant Kane, what do you want?"—I said, "I have just been to the rooms you have vacated in Grafton Street, and in consequence of what I have seen there I am going to search your place"—she said, "All right, Mr. Kane"—I then sent Gibbons for Inspector Reed, and on his coming I said, "This is Madame Herman," and the conversation occurred which he has given—I then said to the prisoner, "Is this the only room you occupy here?"—she said, "Yes"—I went into the passage, and seeing the door of the front room open, I entered, and said to the prisoner, "I find you occupy the front room as well as the back"—she said, "Yes"—then the inspector, the prisoner and I went into the front room, and the large trunk was standing immediately behind the door—it was tied round several times with cord, and locked—I asked her what was in the trunk—she made no reply—I repeated the question twice; still no reply—I then said, "Is there anything in the trunk to account for what I have seen at Graf ton Street?"—she said, "Yes, I should think so"—I said, "Where are the keys?"—eventually Inspector Reed forced open the trunk, and found the body inside—I lifted the lid and saw the body, sitting on the left side—I then said to the prisoner, "Madame Herman, you will be charged with killing the man whose body you now see in that trunk; you are not obliged to say anything unless you desire to do so; but whatever you do say I shall take down in writing, and it may be used in evidence against you here-after"—she said nothing for a moment; the inspector left to procure assistance, and shortly after he had gone, she said, "The man did try to strangle me; I had to defend myself, you can see the marks on my neck; I hit him hard with the poker on Thursday night, but he was alive at nine in the morning; you will find the poker in the black box in the next room; I fetched some brandy from the Horseshoe. I know it is all over with me now, and I may as well tell the truth. I picked him up in
Euston Road; he had, not a penny on him, that was the beginning of the quarrel. I was going to send the box to Berlin either to-morrow or Monday. I know you, Mr. Kane, and I will not tell you lies. Why should I do that? You know it is all over with me now. Madame Bricknell brought me up two pails of water. We had five or six drinks; I gave her a sovereign before he died. The old man told me he lived in Albany Street. The boy you saw here knows nothing about it; he only helped me to tie the trunk"—When I gave that statement before the Magistrate I did it from memory, without looking at my notes—the note was made at the time she was speaking—after making that statement she pulled down the top of her dress at the left hand side; I looked, and could see nothing, but it is only fair to say the room was very dark at the time; it was past seven, and a bad light—Inspector Reed came back, and placed the prisoner in a cab, and conveyed her and the box containing the dead body to Tottenham Court Road Police-station—she was there charged with killing a man unknown—afterwards the body was identified, and she was then charged with killing Charles Anthony Stevens—Mrs. Bricknell was present when she was charged, sitting close to her—after the charge was read over to her the second time the prisoner said, pointing to Mrs. Bricknell, "This woman did help me. This woman did bring me up the water, and I gave her a sovereign for it. She had five or six drinks, and you will find the bottle from the Grafton in her room now"—I think it was at about half-past eight when she made that statement—there was very little interval between the first and second charge being read over, only a few minutes, for while the first charge was being entered the son had come and identified the body—the prisoner had been at the station about an hour before the first charge was read over—I believe part of that time she had been in the inspector's office alone, except somebody at the door—I believe she was searched after the first charge was read to her—I was not there all the time—when she said this about Mrs. Bricknell Mrs. Bricknell said, "You are a liar"—after the second charge was read the prisoner was put in the cell—Mrs. Rescorla, the searcher, would be in charge of her then—Dr. Lloyd came and examined the body—it was sent to the mortuary—I noticed the man's trousers; they were buttoned up me front, with the exception of the top button—he had on an ordinary overcoat, but no undercoat—I found a pair of man's boots in the trunk—he was shabbily dressed, with the exception of the overcoat; that was in good condition—all the other articles were very shabby—no hat has been found—his shirt appeared to have been broken away at the neck, and was smothered in blood—he had on some sort of a loose cotton or silk scarf; I believe it was silk, a very small one; there was blood on that—his hands appeared clean, as if they had been washed—I found no blood-stains on them—before leaving Upper Marylebone Street the first evening I went to a black box in the back room, and in it found this iron bar that has been produced; the point was bent—there appeared some stains on it; I can't say what they were—I showed it to the prisoner the same evening, and said, "Is this the poker you mean?"—she said, "Yes"—on Sunday, the 18th, I went again to Upper Marylebone Street with Reed, and made a search among the things there—under a chair in the front room I found this bunch of keys—I saw Reed take them
from under the lining or cushion of the chair; they were pushed under the lining of the seat—one of those keys fitted the lock of the trunk—I found several other things, but I removed nothing—the prisoner was taken before the Magistrate on the 19th, and remanded to the 26th—on that day I had charge of her at the Police-court, in the waiting-room, and while there she said, "I went to the night chemist's in Oxford Street on Friday morning, about six o'clock. I bought two rolls of surgical bandages and some sticking-plaister. I had a conversation with the man in the shop, and he told me to be careful there was no glass in the wound. I said there was no bleeding now. There was a man cleaning the window when I drove up in the cab. I left the cab outside waiting for me. I went into the Horseshoe, and bought half-a-pint of gin. I then went home. The man was sitting in the basket-chair. I gave him the bottle; he put it to his lips, and drank the whole of the gin. He died in the basket-chair, and Madame Bricknell did help me to put him in the box; I could not do it myself, as the man was too heavy. The man nearly killed me, lying on the top of me. Madame Bricknell helped me to tie the box on Friday morning. I sent her out twice for drinks after she did it. I went out after we put the man in the box. Saturday morning I noticed the cord of the box cut, and the key of the bath-room missing. I believe the men who tied the box on Saturday morning must have noticed the cut rope when they tied the box round with the good rope. I could not put the man in the box myself, as I have no power in my right wrist. You will see the rollers in the drawers in the room"—The same evening I went to 56, Upper Marylebone Street, and there found two surgical bandages in a chest of drawers in the back room, and in the front room on a chair I found some sticking-plaister—they have been produced—on the 23rd I found the pail without a handle in the back-yard of 56, Grafton Street, underneath Mrs. Bricknell's window.
Cross-examined. I had known something of the prisoner in the course of my duty—to my knowledge there has been no charge of violence ever made against her—I have known her four years; except for drink she has borne a good character for a woman of that kind—I believe she has been in this country about thirteen years—when I first saw her after the box was opened and the body found, she said, "It is no use telling lies; the man did try to strangle me"—I have gone through her statement with very great care, and so far as I have been able to test it, it is absolutely correct in every detail—at the time she told me a bottle would be found in Mrs. Bricknell's room the pail had been found, but the fact of its being without a handle had not been mentioned—at the time she told me she had been to the night chemist's I was perfectly ignorant of the fact, nor had the bandages or plaister then been found—she has all through stuck to the story that Mrs. Bricknell helped to put the man into the box—I was present at the hearing at the Police-court—the only interruption she made then was when she pointed to Mrs. Bricknell, and said, "That woman did help me to put the man in the box'—in my opinion, it was utterly impossible for the prisoner alone to have lifted the man into the box—information was given to me with regard to the bank notes; every one of them has been traced; three of them were paid to the undertaker, Mr. Morgan, who buried the wife; the fourth note reached the Bank of England on 23rd January, paid in with other sums by the City Bank—there
was only just a little round patch of blood in the box—I saw the fender; I did not examine it accurately, not so as to say whether it had been recently black-leaded—the shirt the man had on was very old——the boots were lying on his breast; they had evidently been put in after the body was placed there—the clothes are here—it has been stated by the prisoner that a man was in the habit of visiting her regularly for some period—it is a fact that on the very day she was arrested a man did call at Grafton Street—I believe' that man has been to the Treasury and made a statement—he has been seen by an officer in the case—it is a fact that for the last eleven years she has had this man visiting her regularly, and giving her money—he is a man in a very respectable position—she has no occupation.
CHARLES HENRY TOWNER (Inspector D). I was at Tottenham Court Road Station on the night of the 17th March, when this trunk and the body in it were brought there—after the piece of carpet had been taken off the body I found this thimble (Produced) resting on the top of the body, towards the chest—I searched the pockets of the deceased—in the right trousers pocket I found a shilling in silver and twopence-halfpenny in bronze; in the right waistcoat pocket a small pocket-knife, blood-stained; and in the left breast pocket a pair of spectacles in a case; in the left overcoat pocket, a quartern spirit bottle, empty, and quite dry—I saw the prisoner when she was brought there, but did not speak to her; she was sitting in the charge room, and a female searcher beside her—on Monday, the 19th, I went with her in a cab to the Police-court—in walking to the cab she said a few words, and finished in a room at the back of the Police-court—she did not talk to me as we were going; at the Court I wrote down what she said as she spoke—she said, "I picked him up at the corner of Euston Road and Hampstead Road, about eight o'clock in the evening of Thursday last; he spoke to me; we then went into the public-house at the corner of Hampstead Road and had something to drink, and then went to 51, Grafton Street; he said, 'Take off your boots'; I took them off and then took his off; we got on the bed; he kept on the top of me for half an hour; I wanted to get up; he tried to keep me there; I struggled and got off the bed, and went into the front room; he tried to pull me back into the bedroom; we fell; I struck him in the face with my hand; he picked up the poker and hit me on the head, causing this bump; I took it away from him and hit him four or five times; we were down on the floor, and he was on the top of me; when I hit him he got up and sat in the basket-chair; he and the chair fell over, and he fell on the fender; there was a lot of blood, but there was only a little before he fell off the chair; I helped him up into the chair, and washed him; he said, 'You have been very good to me, and I will not say a word against you'; he sat in the chair, and was talking to me up to seven in the morning; he went to sleep and did not wake up"—at the time she mentioned the bump, I put up my fingers and felt a bump there, at the top of the head, slightly to the right, and I called Dr. Lloyd's attention to it that day.
Cross-examined. That bump has since been ascertained to have been a bump caused long before—I found the wicker-chair in her room—she had given the old leather chair to Mrs. Bricknell—this (Produced) is the wicker-chair, the whole of the basket-work comes on to the ground—I
have never tried to push one of these chairs along with a person in it, there are no castors to it—the leather chair was broken—I did not examine the fender—last night I made some inquiries in Pentonville Road, and a man named Newman, a furniture dealer, is now in Court—he has not yet seen the prisoner—the statement she made to me was just before she went before the Magistrate—she was worried at the time.
By the COURT. The man's waistcoat was bloodstained; the whole thing was rather soiled with blood, it had been dripping down.
LOUISA RESCORLA . I am a widow, and live at 2, Colville Place, Tottenham Court Road—I am searcher at the Police-station—I was there on the night of 17th March; it was about ten minutes past ten when I first saw the prisoner—she was in the charge-room, not alone, there were several people there, the police officers and the doctors—she was put in the cell for me to search her—there is a grating over the door of the cell, with a piece of glass let in, and immediately in front of the glass there is a gas-jet and a reflector, which throws light into the cell—I searched the prisoner, and found upon her the purse that has been produced—it is a long, dark purse, with two openings—it contained 7s. 6d. in silver and 8 3/4 d.; in bronze—a brass locket was round her neck, and 24 pawntickets in her pocket—the last in date was on 14th March, for a cloak—I stripped her, took everything off, and examined her clothing—I saw no marks of blood on any of the clothes that she was wearing—her underclothing was quite clean; there was no mark or stain on any part of her underclothing—I examined her body; I did not discover any mark or discolouration of skin, or bruise, or anything of the kind—I had been told to be very particular—she told me that the man had held her by the throat; that was two hours after I had searched her—I had not been told before I searched her to look for marks of somebody having tried to strangle her—I was only instructed to be very particular—after searching her she dressed, and was taken to Marylebone Police-station—I went with her, and remained till four in the morning—about midnight she made a statement to me, which I wrote down about twenty minutes to six—I have the note with me; this is it (Read: "Why is not that woman that lived in the house locked up as well as me? She helped me to put the man in the box, and cord it. If you look over my pawn-tickets you will see that I have pawned my cloak the same day as I killed the man. I hit him with the poker four or five times. He promised me a quid, but he had no money, He held me by the throat")—I did not look at her throat again—I stayed with her till four, and then Mrs. Cooper succeeded me.
Cross-examined. I have heard that Dr. Walker found thirteen marks on her throat—I swear there were no marks—nothing would shake my belief—it was my duty to take everything off her—I do not know that I left an old pencil and a thimble in her possession—I turned her pocket out—she said nothing when I took the pawntickets—I did not know that in the gaoler's room at Marylebone she showed to Brewer a piece of old pencil and a thimble—I did not see this thimble (Produced) which she has now handed to you.
taking charge of the prisoner on Sunday morning, 18th March, at four o'clock—soon after I had taken charge of her she said something to me—I made a note of it; not at the time, not till the Thursday after—this is it: "He promised me a quid, and when we got home he told me to take my boots off; I asked him for my present first; he said, 'That is all right'; it was not the man I wanted, it was the money; we were on the floor together; he was on the top of me, and I did hit him five or six times"—Between six and seven on the Monday morning, the 19th, she said, "I did give that woman that lives in the house a sovereign and two boxes of clothes to help me to empty the water."
Cross-examined. She did not say that she hit the man in self-defence; she said, "I did hit him five or six times"—I don't think I said before the Magistrate that she said she hit him in self-defence; I would not say positively.
MARY ST. MARTIN . I am a mantle-maker, and live at 45, Newman Street, Oxford Street—the prisoner lodged there for about two years, up to the early part of March this year—in the middle of November last year I remember her calling my attention to her head—she had been very ill—I put my hand on her head and felt a lump on the right side, on the top—she said when she was worried it used to show more plainly.
Cross-examined. She had broken a blood-vessel in November, and had been very ill.
SARAH JANE PINDAR . am a wardress at Holloway—on the 9th March, when the prisoner was received there, she was examined, and any marks or peculiarities were noted, and her height and weight were taken—I examined her, and I produce the record of my examination. (Reading: "Age, 43; place of origin, Austria; occupation, prostitute; 56, Upper Marylebone Street; height, 5 feet 6 inches; weight, 108 lbs. on 19th March; weighed again this morning, 122 lbs.; scar on the right wrist; small scar on the forehead; right ear deformed.")
ALFRED REED . Recalled). I weighed this box last night; it weight 48 lbs., empty—I received this purse from Mrs. Rescorla; it contained money; it has the same things in it now; there was no flash note in it—after the first hearing before the Magistrate, Inspector Allwright found a little pocket-book or card-case, containing this flash note; it was shown to me at the house; it was found in a chest of drawers.
FRANCIS ALLWRIGHT (Recalled). On 30th March after the second hearing, I went to 56, Upper Marylebone Street, with Mr. Taylorson, managing clerk to the solicitor for the prisoner; I saw him find this lady's card-case in a box there, and in it was this piece of crisp paper, which looks like a flash note—he handed it to me; it is really a sort of advertisement of a confectioner; it was with a lot of loose articles of various descriptions—yesterday I went to 51, Grafton Street, and compared this plaster cast with the blood stains—the upper spot is eighteen inches from the ground; that is the spot in which I found the hair that I handed to Dr. Lloyd—the lower spot is six inches long, and one foot from the bottom; then there is a space of three inches clear, and then comes the other spot—the spot on the left cupboard is seven inches from the ground—from the bottom of the cupboard to the top of the big stain is twenty inches—the blood marks on the cupboard were very small and
indistinct; it was almost impossible to trace them. (The witness was directed to fetch the cupboard)
FRANCIS GIBBONS . Recalled). I was at Grafton Street, and saw the things being removed—I saw the last load go—the prisoner was then in the room—I should say it was about half-past five, but I am not sure; it was not getting noticeably dark—I was paid for the moving in the front room—I was standing near one of the windows—I went with the prisoner to Upper Marylebone Street, and I left there about seven—no money was paid to me there; all the bargaining was done after we got there—it was not when the bargaining was going on that the note was produced—there was no reason why she should produce the note at the other place—it was between half-past five and six at Grafton Street—it was a £5 note—I left my son with her when I left.
Cross-examined. I fancy that I remember a short woman with a foreign appearance coming to my place about three months ago, and saying something about a chest of drawers—I have no idea about it being the prisoner; so many people come to the shop, and my eyes are bad, I cannot see.
MATILDA CLARA BRICKNELL . I live at 51, Grafton Street—Ellen Bricknell is my daughter—we occupy the ground floor rooms, back and front—I remember the prisoner coming to live on the first floor—she was there six days before I saw her; I was out at work; I had not known her before—on Thursday, 15th March, I saw her in the passage of the house about half-past six in the evening—she said she was going to meet her husband; she was going out then—I went to bed that night about a quarter to ten—I did not see her between half-past six and a quarter to ten—I slept in the back room—I went to sleep soon—I awoke now and again during the night—I heard a noise of walking about in the room above me; that was the only noise I heard—I got up about a quarter to seven on the Friday morning—I did not go out of my room till half-past seven—I saw Mrs. Holmes in the yard—she said, "Look at the blood in the sink; how came this blood in the sink?"—I went into the yard from information I received from Miss Doughty—I looked near the sink, and saw a lot of blood there—I then went back to my room—about eight o'clock Mrs. Hutchins said something to me, in consequence of which I went again into the back yard with her—I looked at the blood again, and then took a broom and swept it up, and put an old pail over it—it was my pail; it was never used—it had no handle, and a hole in the bottom; it will not hold any water—after doing that I went into the house again—about half-past nine that morning I saw the prisoner in the passage leading to the back yard—I asked her if she had been ill all night—she said, "Yes, I have been very bad indeed all night, and in a dreadful temper, too"—I said, "Who poured the blood down the sink?"—she said, "My husband brought the pail down, and emptied it very early "—I said, "Is your husband gone?"—she said, "Yes, he went away very early"—I said, "Have you been out?"—she replied, "I have been to the dairy to get my milk"—she said nothing more at that time—she looked very strange, as if she had been drinking—I had no further conversation with her throughout the Friday—next day, Saturday, she came to my
door about a quarter to eight—she said she felt very bad, would I go and fetch her some brandy?—I said, "Yes," thinking she was very ill—I went and fetched it—she had a bottle with her, and gave it to me, with a shilling to fetch the brandyin—I went to the Bromley Tavern, and bought tenpennyworth of brandy, and brought it back with the change—the prisoner was in my room waiting for it; I gave it to her—she took some of it, and I had some—soon after that she came to me again; she said she felt worse, and asked me to fetch her a drop more, which I did; the same quantity—I paid for it—she gave me the money again—I brought the brandy back in the same bottle; she was still sitting in my room—she had some of it, and I had a small portion—she then went upstairs—except the small portion which I had, she drank the rest, in my presence—when she had the second lot of brandy—I saw her next morning, when she was moving her things: that was about ten, I think—she came down, and said she had got two or three little things, would I have them; she did not want to take them away—it was just after eight—I hardly recollect what it was she brought—there were two orange boxes, which she said would do to break up for firewood, and I took them, innocently enough, and an old leather easy-chair—this is the one (Produced); she brought it down—I did not see her after she had given me the things—I did not speak to her again during the day—this is the bottle that she brought the two portions of brandy in, or one similar to it—it was left on the table in my room, the police took possession of it afterwards—I was not in the prisoner's rooms at any time on the Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—I had no knowledge of the deceased having come to the house with the prisoner on those days—I never saw the dead body of an old man in the house on any one of those days—I never assisted the prisoner in any way to put the dead body of a man into this trunk, nor did I bring up any pails of water to the prisoner in her room—I did not receive a sovereign, or any money, from her for helping to put the man in the box, or for any other purpose—I did not assist her in cording the box, or assist in cleaning up, or attempting to clean up, any blood stains in the rooms, or in emptying any blood or water down the sink in the back yard.
Cross-examined. I have lived at 51, Grafton Street, nearly three years—I have known Mrs. Hutchins since she has been in the house, over a year—she is a friend of mine—she and I have had a little talk about this matter; not a lot—she told me what she heard on the Friday; that she heard a deal of noise, and did not know what to think—that was about eight o'clock on Friday morning; that was before I saw any blood—she told me that the prisoner had made a complaint to the landlord about her daughter—I know that she was very much annoyed with the prisoner about it—I can't say that she had a great aversion to the prisoner; she did not like the appearance of her—I was not friendly with the prisoner—I scarcely, knew her, except in passing in and out—I had never been into her room—I was not on visiting terms with her, nor on speaking terms, except to pass the time of day—my room was immediately under her bed-room: the back room.
Q. Do you mean to represent seriously that you went to bed at a quarter to ten and slept till a quarter to seven, and during that time you heard nothing of these falls, which disturbed everybody in the house?
A. I heard somebody walking about the house; not those crashes which shook the house—I am a pretty good sleeper; I sleep soundly—I do not take any interest in my neighbours' affairs—I have a little girl of eight who sleeps with me—I saw my other daughter before I went to bed—she did not tell me that night that the first floor lodger had brought in a drunken old man—I am quite positive; not that night; she told me about a quarter to seven in the morning; that was a long time before any interview with Mrs. Hutchins or Mrs. Holmes, and before I had seen any blood—it was about half-past seven, I think, that I first saw any blood; that was in consequence of something Miss Doughty told me, and when I went out into the yard I saw the blood in the sink—I came back to my room then, and told my daughter—I came in to see to my daughter's breakfast, to see if it was ready—I said before the Magistrate that I came in as the sight of the blood made me sick and bad; that was the reason—I told Mrs. Hutchins of it; I had not seen the blood earlier in the morning—it was not because the blood was associated in my mind with the dead body of the man that I felt sick and bad—I have fainted away before at the sight of blood; I swept it up; I said it was not fit to see—the prisoner referred it to herself—I believed that—it was not such a quantity the sink was blocked up, and it could not get away—it was not much—I had not emptied it there, on my oath—the sink had been stopped up for several days—the w.c. was close handy—the pail I had had a hole in the bottom; it had not been used for water for a twelvemonth; it had two or three holes in the bottom, one larger than the others—the others were very small—one hole was plugged up with rags; it had been so for months—I could not say whether the rags were wet or dry that morning—I don't know whether anybody knew the pail belonged to me—I did not fetch drink four or five times on the Friday morning for the prisoner—I did not go with her that morning to the Yorkshire Grey—I don't know whether shedropped her sewing-machine book there, and went back to fetch it—I do not know where the Yorkshire Grey is—I did not go into that public-house on the Friday morning with the prisoner, and have a drink there; I swear that positively; nor at any time on the Friday or Saturday, nor ever in my life—we did not have three half-quarterns of gin between us at that house on the Friday morning—I never had three half-quarterns of gin in a public-house at the time the prisoner was there—I did not tell the barmaid at that public-house that I must go back quickly to get dinner ready—I don't know that the prisoner gave the barman twopence for himself; I deny it all entirely—I did not hear the prisoner go out about six that morning; I did not hear anybody go out—it was Miss Holmes who called my attention to the blood, from information from Miss Doughty—Mrs. Hutchins did not call my attention to it—I called her attention to it when she first came to tell me—I did not say at the inquest that Mrs. Hutchins called my attention to it. (The deposition was read, and it so stated)—if it is there it might be a mistake—it is not my mistake—I think I drew Mrs. Hutchins' attention to it—the prisoner did not come down to me before 7.30 that morning, and say," Oh! Bricknell, the old fellow is dead; come up and see"—she did not say," We had a row; he tried to strangle me, and I hit him in self-defence; whatever shall I do to get rid of him?"—I have never seen the body of
that man—I don't know if there was anybody else in the house that early morning who could have helped the prisoner to put the body in the box; I did not help her—I do not know that she went out that morning later, and locked the door of her room—I do not know that the key of her back door is missing, and has never been found—I did not go upstairs after the body was put into the box; I did not cut the cord and drop this thimble into the box—I will swear that—I will try this thimble on. (Trying it on)—it does not fit me, you can see—on my oath I did not help to put that man into that box—I cannot recollect what the things were that the prisoner gave me—she did not give me a sovereign, or a box of clothes, or several things, clothing of her own; I have thought since—there were two boxes for firewood, I did not notice whether they had been used for coal; a knifeboard that was not in bad condition; a pair of shoes not very good, a tidy pair; a bottle with pickles in it, a chair, an Astrachan hat—she said she was moving, and they were no good to her, would I have them; so innocently I took them—they were perfectly worthless; the armchair was broken—they were not given to me for the help I had given to her in the moving—I was present when the trunk was removed, on the ground floor—I cannot tell what coloured tapes the trunk had on—we were watching to see the things come out—I first thought there was something wrong when Mrs. Hutchins spoke to me—I was coming from my back room to the front when I saw the box going out—I do not know who else was in the house—I did not hear her say to me at the Police-court, "You did help me to put that man in that box"—I think I heard her say it as she passed by me at Marlborough Street; I did not hear her say it in the Court—I heard her say it at the Police-station on the Saturday night—I swear I did not help her to put the man in the box.
Re-examined. I have lived at that house for nearly three years with my two daughters, and a boy as well—I was not on friendly terms with the prisoner, just as one lodger to another—on Thursday night, the 15th, I slept in the back room; my daughters slept in the front room—the little girl slept along with me, and the boy was in the back—on the Friday morning I saw this blood twice—Miss Doughty was the first person that drew my attention to it, and afterwards Mrs. Hutchins spoke to me, and I went again to the yard and looked at it in consequence of what she said—the arm-chair which the prisoner gave me I put down in the coal-cellar at once; it was not broken so much as it is now—the police found it in the cellar; I had never taken it out—the fawn-coloured hat I put in the dusthole; I took it out on the following Tuesday and put it in the pail that has been spoken of; I gave it to the police in the pail; that is the pail that I put over the blood, and this (Produced) is the hat—I had nothing to do with the putting of the man in the box.
SERGEANT KANE. Re-examined). On April 24th the prisoner said to me, "Mr. Kane, go to the public house in Charlotte Street, corner of London Street, and the barmaid will tell you I was in the public-house on Friday morning with Mrs. Bricknell, it was between eleven and twelve o'clock, she had two or three half-quarterns of gin; I had some ale self; the barmaid will remember my being in the house, as I lost my sewing-machine book in the bar; it was picked up by the barman, and left over the bar for me: when I got back to the Bricknells' room I
missed it, I went back to the public-house and got it back, and I gave the barman 2d. Bricknell said, 'Oh! I must go home, as I have to get my daughter's dinner, as she is coming home between twelve and one o'clock.' I think the Bricknells were washing that day: where is the hat a tall, old, greasy one; I put it into the box myself, on the top, after we had put the body in the box, the Bricknells and I. The hat was on the table, I mentioned about the hat because the Magistrate did speak to you about it; it was on the top of a piece of carpet on the left side where the face was"—that statement was made to me at Marlborough Street on the very day Mrs. Bricknell had been examined, April 24th, and after the prisoner had said, "Mrs. Bricknell, you did help me to put him in the box"—I inquired at the public-house at the corner of London Street—it is the Yorkshire Grey, and the barmaid distinctly remembered the incident of the handing back of the book—it was found either on the prisoner or at the room, and I recognized it at once—she remembered that a woman was with her rather taller than Mrs. Herman, shabbily dressed, and wearing a bonnet, and she believed a shawl. (SERGEANT ALLWRIGHT. here produced several pieces of wainscoting marked with blood.)
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am senior medical officer at Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway—on March 21st I examined the prisoner with care at her special request, and found twelve distinct bruises on her neck, two small ones in front, five distinct bruises on the left, four on the right, and one large bruise at the back—the two small bruises in front were one on the larynx and one over the trachea, irregular in shape, and about a quarter of an inch in diameter—as to the five bruises on the left side of her neck, the upper one was just above the angle of the jaw; the base of the triangle was directed forward, and the apex backward; the length of the base was a quarter of an inch, and from the base to the apex a quarter of an inch; below that were several bruises in a horizontal line, distinct, but near together; the front one commenced close to the side of the larynx—below the first one were two other bruises, one below the other, each about the same size as the two I have just described, and immediately below the anterior of the two upper ones; all four lower wounds were horizontal—on the left side of her neck, on the upper angle of the jaw, was a triangular bruise, with the base directed forwards, almost corresponding with the one on the other side; and below that a bruise, commencing at the side of the larynx; and below that two other bruises, the most posterior ones, as seen on the left side, being absent on the right—the one at the back of her neck was also horizontal, about an inch wide and four inches long, extending to the side of her neck; they were all deep in colour, but the one at the back of her neck was not quite so deep—they had changed their colour from dark blue to a reddish colour, therefore I should say they were from four to six days old; the height of the bruises had passed off—I stood in front of the prisoner, and placed my hand round her neck, with my fingers at the back, and my thumb just fitted over the two triangular bruises at the angle of the jaw—I then stood behind her and placed my thumb at the back of her neck, and my fingers in front, and my first, second, and third fingers of each hand fitted over the bruises at the side of the larynx, the ones below the triangular bruise—that would not account for the
whole; that would not account for the two in front of the larynx, or for the posterior of the two upper ones—all the bruises except the two in front could have been caused by grasping with two hands round the throat—the two upper ones must have been grasped from the front, and the others from behind—the throat must have been grasped twice in different positions—the two in front were accidental; there had been a struggle, or she might have done it herself—it would require considerable force to produce such deep-coloured bruises; it is hardly possible that they could have been self-inflicted—I found a prominence on her head; most people have it—it is caused by the unevenness of the frontal and parietal bones—she complained that her right arm had been leant upon, but I saw no mark of any bruise—ray attention was not called to her wrist.
Cross-examined. The throat must have been grasped twice; it is possible that both hands were used; throttling would be the proper expression for it—considerable force had been used—I do not believe that this old man of seventy-one years of age would have had sufficient force left to have made those marks on the prisoner's throat after these seven wounds had been inflicted on him with the smaller end of the poker.
LOUIS CONSTANTINE BEAN . I am a student at University College Hospital—I saw the deceased's body on the day before the inquest, with Dr. Lloyd, under whose supervision I made an accurate sketch of the position, size, and shape of the injuries—this is my original drawing—I have numbered them—it is just a sketch—the actual measurements were given afterwards—it is not drawn to scale.
SAMUEL LLOYD , M. D. I am physician to the police of Tottenham Court Road division—I was called to the station on Saturday, March 17th, about 8.15, and shown this large trunk—I saw the dead body of an old man inside it in a semi-sitting position, the knees drawn up, the chin on the chest, and the back of the head resting against the ends of the box—except as to boots he was fully clothed—it appeared to be the body of a healthy, well-nourished man, of about fifteen stone weight—his head was exactly where the stain is in the box, on the left—the body was taken out of the trunk in my presence—there was a quantity of blood on the head and neck—the face and hands had apparently been washed—the rigor mortis was just passing away—I think the body was placed in the box before rigor mortis set in; it is not certain as to the time it appears in every case—I think it possible for one person unassisted to put the body into the box a portion at a time, the legs first, the pelvis next, and the trunk afterwards—it would take some few minutes to do it—I found on the right side of the head seven scalp wounds, numbered 1 to 7 on Mr. Bean's sketch, but No. 7 can hardly be called a scalp wound—No. 10 was on the top of the head, and is not shown on the sketch—No. 1 was a contused wound about an inch long; it is marked red, because it gaped—No. 2 was about an inch long, a little behind the eye, on the right side of the temple; it went nearly to the bone—No. 3 was a V-shaped contused wound, about an inch and a half long, going down to the bone; it turned back at the end; it was within a quarter of an inch of the eye—No. 4 was a contused wound three-quarters of an inch long, laying bare the bone at the back of the head, above the right ear—No. 5 was an inch long, and down to the bone—No. 6 was about three inches long, also down to the bone, and not quite straight—No, 7 was a contused
wound, more of the nature of a puncture, about three-quarters of an inch long, and not very deep; it did not go to the bone—Nos. 3 and 4 were the most serious; No. 4 was at the open end of a small artery, or branch of the temporal artery—all those wounds must have bled considerably—No. 4 was the most serious; there is a little ring in the sketch representing the divided artery—there must have been some concussion of the brain—No. 8 is an abrasion of the right temple, very extensive, but superficial—No. 9 is a superficial bruise on the bridge of the nose—No. 9 is not shown on the sketch; it is a cut about two inches long, straight across the top of the head, contused, and nearly down to the bone—No. 11 is an abrasion on the right side of the lower jaw—in my judgment the injuries 1 to 7 and No. 10 were caused by separate acts of violence; and Nos. 1 to 6 could all have been caused by this iron instrument used as a poker—I am not certain how No. 7 was produced; it could have been done with the blunt edge of the same instrument—I think the wounds must have been given in rapid succession—assuming that they were given while the man was erect or sitting, he would rapidly fall, and the nearness of the wounds to each other looks as if they were done rapidly—No. 10 might also have been caused by the poker—the bruises 8, 9, and 11, were probably caused by a fall—I think it likely that the assailant was behind, but it is mere opinion; there was nothing about the wounds to guide me; they are all on the right side, and if the assailant was not behind they must have been given back-handed—I think the head was probably above the assailant when wounds 4, 5, and 6 were given—any of the straight wounds, 1, 2, 5 and 6, might have been caused by a fall on this fender, but I think not 3 and 7, unless 7 was caused by falling on one of these projections; the two corners (Knobs)—No. 10 is unlikely to have been caused by a fall on the fender; if so, I should expect to find blood on the fender—bleeding would commence immediately on the infliction of the wounds—I have carefully examined the fender; there was a minute speck of blood on the right projection when it was in the fireplace, almost microscopical—I saw some more on the plate—I saw nothing to show whether the fender had been cleaned—I examined it on March 21st—there would have to be successive falls to cause the injuries I found—no two wounds would be caused by the same full on the fender, and I only saw these microscopical spots of blood—I do not think any of the wounds were caused by the fender—I examined the deceased's clothing; the overcoat is much stained with blood on the right shoulder. (The, coat being produced showed stains in other parts)—the waistcoat is much stained with blood, which has run down into the right pocket, where the knife was found stained with blood—the trousers are stained with blood on the right side, it does not go far below—the shirt is very much stained, and there is a slight stain on the drawers—the socks are free from blood—I made a post-mortem examination the following Wednesday, and found that a branch of the temporal artery was severed, causing profuse haemorrhage—the brain was bloodless and hypertrofied, which is enlargement and thickening—the heart was enlarged and fatty, and weighed twenty ounces; the left side of it was contracted and empty of blood—the lungs showed signs of old pleurisy—the stomach was perfectly empty; there was not the slightest trace of the recent consumption of
spirits—the liver was enlarged and bloodless, indicating that the man had been an excessive drinker—he had lost a considerable quantity of blood from the appearance of the body—the cause of death was haemorrhage from the wounds, with some degree of concussion of the brain, and shock resulting from the violence—he may have survived the wounds some hours—death would follow almost immediately on the ceasing of the flow of blood from the artery, the artery not being plugged—I was shown an old leather arm-chair; there were a few splashes of blood on the outer right side of it; the piece is cut away now—I took it home to examine the blood—I also examined a wicker chair and found stains of blood on it; also a carpet said to have been taken from the front room at Grafton Street, on which were extensive stains—I have since been to 51, Grafton Street, and found some blood-stains on the floor at the left hand cupboard as you face the fireplace—I do not know how the carpet was placed, but if it was lying with the stains near the left hand cupboard, the two stains would correspond—I was handed a hair by the police, and I examined the hairs taken from the mantelpiece and from the cupboard—those from the mantelpiece were human hairs, brown, but not a very dark brown—two other hairs were given me; the one was a human hair, the other was not—the human hair was brown, but not very dark.
Cross-examined. The man might have been placed in the box by the prisoner unaided, but it would have taken some little time—I said at the Police-court, "When the deceased was taken from the box and laid down, a large pool of blood flowed from his head; having regard to that fact I am of opinion that the deceased must have been lifted bodily into the box," and I adhere to that—I do not think the prisoner unaided could have lifted him bodily into the box; I think she must have had assistance to have lifted him from the ground—I think he was bodily lifted into the box; it would have been impossible to put the body in piecemeal, and keep the trunk erect—I do not think the woman could have done it bodily; not lift him bodily—I am in favour of the theory that there must have been assistance—there is nothing in the position of the wounds to indicate that the assailant was probably behind—I heard Dr. Pepper say at the Police-court, "I found the left part of the sleeve of the overcoat covered with blood," and I admit that the left arm was probably used to ward off a blow aimed at the right side of the head—I have never expressed an opinion upon the point till to-day—if I was attacked from behind I think I should probably use my right hand—seeing that the right hand was not used in this case to ward off an attack does not, I think, weaken my opinion that the attack was from behind—the Magistrate scraped off some blacklead from the fender—what I meant was that it had not been washed since the blacklead was put on, or it would have washed off the specks of blood which I saw—the plate of the fender is not blackleaded—there is nothing inconsistent with it having been washed, but not so carefully as to obliterate all traces of blood—looking at the plan, I think it possible that when the upper stain on the beading of the mantel was made, there must have been several spots of blood spurting on to the fender—if a person fell against the beading of the mantel, it would depend on how long the head remained there whether the fender would receive spots of blood, and if it did and no blood was found the fender must have been washed—it
was the bleeding of wound No. 4 which caused death, with the bleeding from the other wounds—that was the most serious wound; the artery was severed, but they all bled—if the artery in No. 4 had been plugged, I think it possible he might have been alive at this time—the artery was small, and the bleeding would be slow from it a—tow compress and spirits would assist in stopping it; but spirit alone would not do it; nothing could stop it but pressure or tieing, or caustic; I don't think much of spirit, though it would considerably lessen the bleeding from then one arterial wounds—assuming it to have been clotted in some way by compression, a sudden fall an hour afterwards would be likely to re-open the artery—the bleeding itself would depend upon the strength of the heart; in the case of a weak heart the bleeding would be slow—as to the blood spots, it is not possible to distinguish between arterial and venous blood after a time—I do not think wound No. 4 could have been caused by a sharp instrument, or by the sharp end of the poker, it is unlikely; it was jagged—a jagged wound would be produced by the sharp end of the poker—in my opinion all the wounds were inflicted in rapid succession—assuming wound No. 7 not to be capable of being inflicted by the sharp end, the end of the poker must have been changed very rapidly—a jagged wound would probably be produced by something in the nature of a sharp instrument being drawn along the flesh—I have already said that No. 7 might have been inflicted by a fall on the left end of the fender—as I found portions of hair on the mantel, it is likely that wound No. 10 was caused by the man falling against the beading of the over-mantel—I saw no vessel of magnitude in the wound; but all the wounds would bleed considerably—I saw the hair attached—I said at the Police-court, "I think the hairs on the mantelpiece may have been smeared there with the cloth to which they were adhering"—I never saw them adhering to the cloth—it struck Mr. Pepper and myself that the blood at that part was somewhat pale—any blood becomes pale after considerable exposure to the atmosphere—when I examined the stains in the lobby I noticed that the stains were perfect by the fireplace—it was apparent, from the position of the spurts, that no cloth had been used at that spot; and it was on a portion of that spot that the hair was seen—the marks were so far obliterated as to enable me to say that they were blood, and it was in one of those marks that I found part of the human hair—I do not think I had been to the Treasury when I went to the Police-court—if the artery had been tied or clotted the man would not have died from haemorrhage, but he might have died from erysipelas, or shock, or concussion—assuming the injuries to have been received as late us three o'clock, he might very well have lived till seven, and be able to talk feebly—it is very difficult to say what difference it would make in the duration of life, assuming the wound to have been re-opened by a fall at 12.30; blood was flowing from the whole of the body, and the dangerous part was never plugged at all—hypertomy of the heart does not cause weakness—it was very strong; it is a compensating thing, which we put on one side, not affecting the flow of blood—I found no trace of any spirit taken shortly before death—I think I should have detected anything like gin,
but it would depend upon how long he had lived after taking spirits—there was every sign that he was a confirmed drinker.
Re-examined. The left arm might have been raised to ward off a blow—the injury on the left arm was a small incised wound about half an inch long—that might have been caused by a similar instrument to that which inflicted the wounds on the head; any blunt contusing force might cut the skin against the bone, just as it does on the scalp—I have not much to guide me as to whether the wounds were inflicted from behind—I think it unlikely that wound No. 10 could be inflicted by holding the weapon in the left hand, and hitting to the right; it is possible that it may have been inflicted by the head hitting the inner moulding of the chimney-piece—if he had fallen against the moulding I think he would have gone backwards, towards the left-hand cupboard; I assume that the back of his head was towards the window—taking a person lying on the ground with the person injured ever her, I think there would not be sufficient power to cause wound No. 4; you could not on that theory account for the two different directions of the wounds; 1, 2 and 3 differ from 4, 5, and 6—I see a difficulty in wounds 4, 5, and 6 being caused by a person using a poker, and striking while lying on the ground—considerable violence must have been used—I should certainly have thought that a person lying on her back, holding a poker, could not have sufficient power to inflict the wounds I saw and I have seen many hundred wounds—very considerable force would be required for the blunt instrument to sever the tissues down to the bone, and I do not think it possible that a person lying on the ground could inflict the injuries with a blunt instrument—I noticed the stain on the right side of the marble chimney-piece; the colour of the blood was rather pale—I do not think it would sink deeper into wood because it was varnished.
By MR. HALL. 1, 2, and 3 were in the same line, and 4, 5, and 6 in another line, but identical—if the man and woman were struggling, and he had fallen on his left elbow on to her right arm, the bruise could have been caused by the fall—it is not impossible that he would fall on her left, and her right arm would be fettered by his body, his two hands being round her throat, throttling her, and feeling herself strangling, she reached out and fetched this poker, and banged at him three blows, and he moved his head, and she gave him three more blows.
By MR. MATHEWS. I did remove some of the blacklead from the fender with a pen-knife—I found no blood till Mr. Pepper pointed it out, the two minute spots, to me.
AUGUSTUS JOSEPH PEPPER . I am a Master of Surgery, B. M. of London, and F.R.C.S.—I am one of the surgeons of St. Mary's Hospital, and examiner of medical jurisprudence at the University of London—on April 24th I visited 51, Grafton Street, and examined the first floor and saw the blood, the indications of which have been spoken to to-day—it was quite plain that the blood came from splashing; there was no indication of spurting blood from an artery in any part of the room; the characteristics are very distinct—many of the stains indicated that they were done by splashing, and others were obviously smears; and they were of two kinds, some obviously formed by pure blood, and others, the smears, by blood diluted with water—there was abundant evidence in the room that a very coarse and ineffectual attempt had been made to clear the blood away by
means of a cloth—the lower stain on the mantelpiece appeared like a smear, and was lighter than the other—this representation gives a fairly good idea, hut there is too great conformity of colour; it does not suggest a smear, I heard his Lordship remark that the outline is too definite and the surface too uniform—it is equally consistent with a cloth being dabbed against it, or the head coming against it—it certainly has a smeared appearance, but it might be done with the hair—the blood-stains on the corner of the left-hand cupboard, at the top, did not seem to me like pure blood; it was very pale at the upper part, and darker below—it might be done by the hair; it was a daub, or kind of smear, it was not produced by a simple flat surface; the blood has trickled down, and has been smeared—then on the ground on the other side there are numerous spots of blood, possessing neither the shape nor the arrangement spots of blood would do which spurted from an artery—I cannot say for certain whether I see indications of pure blood on this polished wood, but it is darker at the lower part because it is more concentrated: there is one fact against it being pure blood, the stain being so light, the blood would have congealed before it trickled down so far; I think if it had been pure blood it would probably have congealed before—there had been a large effusion of blood on the floor under the left-hand cupboard, but it had been attempted to be wiped up, yet still it could be scraped up in powder—the condition of the clothes and of the room, represent sufficient blood having been shed to account for death—I do not think the head laid there more than a few minutes; it might have been much longer, but a minute or two would be enough—the bleeding was very profuse and very rapid—there are stains immediately under the window which looks into the street, and there is a large spot on the skirting at the side, which I have no doubt is pure blood, much darker than it is anywhere else, indicating splashes: it might be produced by a blow on the head, or by the head coming in contact with the ground—I think that from the size of the stain and the blood there, there is very little doubt that the head has been there; there is no doubt that the head laid in that position sufficiently near to splash to the skirting-board; either a blow on the head might cause the blood to splash on the skirting, or the head coming in contact with the floor might cause the blood to splash up—as to the indications on the return of the cupboard, the trickling blood the head may have come in contact with it, with the body in a sitting position; it was about that height; the body could be put in such a position that the head would reach that spot, which would be a natural position; but it could not have remained long in that position, because the blood reaches to the bottom of the woodwork—I examined the deceased's sleeve; the lower stain on the mantelshelf was such as the brushing of the sleeve across it would easily produce—the one above that is the one in which the human hair was discovered, as reported to me; the presence of that hair is to be accounted for by the smearing of the spot with a cloth containing the hair; the wound on the scalp must have taken away a considerable quantity of hair; in fact, I found two hairs on the fender—I found two minute spots of blood on the fender, one on the broad beading at the bottom, just by the middle—they have been removed—the fender had been blackleaded at some time,
but not recently—it had no indications of being washed subsequently to being blackleaded—that was on April 19th—assuming a fall on the fender, I should expect much greater evidence of blood-stains; there was no evidence that it had been recently cleaned, either by washing or blackleading, and had any large amount of blood been on the fenestrated portion, it would have been very difficult to get it away; two drops of blood would have accounted for all the stains I found—of course I take into account the indifferent way in which the room had been cleaned, and I think if there had been blood on the fender it would not have been cleared away—very considerable violence must have been used to inflict the wounds—I believe this poker could have inflicted them all, including No. 7, which, in my opinion, was done with this part of the poker—it would be very easy to do it with that, especially if it was obliquely directed—Nos. 1 to 6 could have been produced by the narrow end of the poker, or rather the tapering segment—I think No. 3 is very definite; one portion tails off" at right angles to the other, that could not be produced by a straight instrument—1, 2, and 3 run in a different direction to 4, 5, and 6—No. 10 was about an inch long on the vertex; a very slight deviation of the instrument would account for a difference in the wound—all the wounds could be caused by the poker, and I am certain not one of them was caused by a fall on the fender—excluding No. 3 and No. 7, I think all the wounds could be easily produced by the straight part of the poker, including No. 10, and, they were the result of separate blows—from the number of wounds, and their general similarity, and their direction being similar, that is to say, in groups, and all being on the right side of the head, and the top, renders it probable that they were all caused by the same means—a fall would in all probability only give rise to one wound; it would be of a different character—if the head fell on the fender or the knob it might produce such a wound as No. 7; you would not expect to get a number of such similar wounds, three of them being in almost parallel directions—supposing No. 7 to have been caused by a fall on the fender, a good deal of blood would have remained in the crevices—I do not think any of the wounds could have been caused by a fall against the sharp edge of the mantelpiece; it would have left a clearer wound, not so jagged as is described—I cannot swear that it was not so caused, but my opinion is against it from the facts before me—a large quantity of blood must have been lost from the wounds; the bloodlessness of the heart leads me to that conclusion, and the amount of blood we found—I do not ascribe the profuse haemorrhage to the bleeding of an individual wound—I think the wounds were received in close succession, and it would not be fair to speak of any one wound when you have six or seven bleeding at the same time, so that a very large quantity of blood was lost—it was not the severance of the artery only; you get a very serious bleeding apart from that, from a vast number of blood-vessels which are divided, and with so many wounds there would be profuse haemorrhage—had he been a strong young man I do not think he would have died—a severed artery might bleed for an indefinite time; you cannot fix the time; the more feeble the heart becomes the bleeding will sooner stop, and the patient might die from faintness, the actual bleeding having ceased before—there was clearly
a bruise on the forearm, which is described as a linear wound—I think the sharp part of the poker might have scratched it across, not a cutting instrument necessarily, like a knife, but the injury might have been inflicted, I think, by the left arm being raised from the situation of the cut on the, wrist, it is quite clear that the left hand was raised to protect the head—I think, in all probability, the assailant was on a higher level when delivering the blows and at the side; wound No. 10 could hardly have been delivered unless the person was lying on the floor, or sitting down—I am speaking of the stature of the two individuals—I cannot tell how long a person would survive such injuries; there are so many circumstances—the concussion of the brain caused by the blows themselves is important—a person would be able to speak, in the way of conversing, for a very little time; it would be measured probably by minutes only—after the receipt of all those injuries the person so injured would be unable to speak, but it was a measure of his strength, and of the concussion of the brain and subsequent bleeding—I certainly think it possible for a woman of the size and strength of the prisoner to lift the body into this trunk—there is one fact I might mention, and that is the comparative absence of blood-marks on the outer portion of the trunk—as to the physical possibility, I have no doubt she could do it—there was only a very slight stain at one end—it would take a powerful effort, a supreme effort, but it would not take time, because a person could not endure it for long—I examined the prisoner's wrists; there was a scar on the skin, but the tendons were not divided—I examined the bump on her head, and agree that it is a congenital bump.
Cross-examined. The woman must have been above the man; he must have been sitting or lying—I think it is strongly probable that the wounds were not inflicted by the left hand of the assailant, unless you make the assertion that she was left-handed—I suggest that he was sitting down, and she standing on his right-hand side to inflict the blows—the poker was raised upwards and struck downwards—it does not follow that all the wounds were received while the body was in the same position; the parallelism of three of them showed that they were delivered at the same time—wounds Nos. 4, 5 and 6 could have been caused by a person using a poker with the right hand in the way I suggest: they are consistent with that position—with a slight inclination of the instrument, or a slight alteration in the position of the person using the instrument, it would have been easy to do it—I do not think there was any alteration in the position of the person between the infliction of wounds 4, 5, and 6—I do not suggest there was any alteration in the position of the head or of the poker during the infliction of wounds 1, 2, and 3, which are in the same place. Q. I suggest to you this: that the whole of those six wounds were inflicted, three of them by one series of three blows, the other three by another series of three blows, while the head of the man was bending over the prone body of the woman, she striking with her left hand; do you say that is impossible? A. Not if you take any three at a time; but I expressly said taking them all together, and especially the one at the top of the head—I cannot keep that No. 10 out of my mind—I do not say it is impossible that the first group of three wounds and the second group of three wounds could have been inflicted
by the woman lying on the ground, using her left hand, and striking the man who was over her, holding her throat; I say it is improbable—I account for the different angle of wound 3 by the poker striking at some distance from it—I do not think it was the imperfect power of the left hand, dragging the poker over and getting it away—the knob of the fender could have caused it—if the diagram is correct, a fall on the elbow could not have caused that bruise—I heard Dr. Lloyd suggest that the head of the assailed person was probably on a higher level than the arm of the assailant—I agree with that as to the lower wounds on the head—it was a question of minutes how long he could articulate; if he had been a young man I do not believe he would have died at all—there is nothing to show that wound was not produced by the fender—it was not until the 19th April that I examined the fender—it was a fender that had blacklead on it, but it had had no recent application—I think it was not washed on 16th March and blackleaded afterwards—I think there had been no blacklead put on within a month—I have a very confident opinion about it; I do not state it as a fact; it is an old, greasy, dirty fender—if it were blackleaded afterwards it must have been done very imperfectly, from the state I saw it in, and the amount of washing and blackleading is important, as hiding blood-stains—thirty-three or thirty-four days had elapsed before I saw it—I suggest that this blood-mark (on the cupboard) was caused by the man sitting on the floor and resting his head on that spot, or by the man falling, and his head coming in contact with it—there was plenty of room for the man to sit outside the fireplace and have his head in that position—I know the place—there was plenty of room for him to be outside the fireplace—the fender was the boundary of the fireplace—I do not say that the man was necessarily sitting; I said either he was in a semi-sitting position, or he fell, and struck his head in that position—it was possible for him to be sitting on the ground, and his head in contact with that board—I suggest the blood-mark was caused by the right side of his head—I suggest that the right side of the head, or the back of the head, came in contact with the floor on the left-hand side of the cupboard, and the blood trickled on to the floor, and splashed on to the wainscot—the stain on the ground might have been caused by blood and water if the fender had been washed—the mark on the edge of the cupboard could have been caused by a blood-stained hand closing the door—I am afraid the transverse wound on the top of the head could scarcely have been produced by his sitting in the chair and falling forwards against the edge of the mantelpiece in a helpless state—if his head rested against this woodwork, and produced this stain, it is clear it was not there long, otherwise there would have been a lot of blood on the floor—this blood-stain is as if a man had rested his head there for a second—the blood-stain on the floor is some distance round from the corner; there are no blood smears round this side of the cupboard, or along the front of it—blood must have saturated the back of the head, being conducted from the wounds by the hair—it is possible that after his head had been in contact with the cupboard he fell down.
Re-examined. I do not agree that wound No. 10 was caused by the sharp end beyond the moulding—there is a direct smear on the grate continuous with the upper stain on the marble, so that whatever came, in
contact with the mantelpiece slipped from the mantelpiece on to the grate, and not in the other direction; there is a broad patch on the fire-place—I don't think the blood on the grate was discovered till I found it; it is on the left-hand side—I think if the head came in contact with the mantelpiece it came the other way, or it may have been caused by a cloth slipping from the mantelpiece on to the grate—one side of the cupboard shows distinctly that a cloth mixed with blood and water must have been used to account for these splashes on the left-hand cupboard—there are hundreds of splashes; some of them have been produced by blood, and others by blood and water; most of them take a linear direction, but are in different planes, and something has been swished about in different directions.
INSPECTOR REED. Re-examined). I took this fender into my possession on 22nd March, and since then it has been in possession of the police—it has not been cleaned, blackleaded, or interfered with since then; it is in the same state now as when I received it.
(The JURY. were taken to inspect the prisoner's room.)
GUILTY. of Manslaughter. The JURY. strongly recommended her to mercy.—Six Years' Penal Servitude.
The COURT. highly commended the police officers engaged in the case, in which the JURY. concurred. The COURT. also commended the admirable way in which the case had been conducted by the Treasury.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, May 31st, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. PAUL TAYLOR. and ELDRIDGE. Prosecuted, and MESSRS.
GEOGHEGAN. and BIRON. Defended.
The Prisoner, during the opening, having stated in the hearing of the JURY that he was guilty, the JURY. found him GUILTY .— Inspector Abbott stated that he had learnt from inquiries that the prisoner had for two years past been receiving tea from lads in the employment of tea merchants; there were other indictments against the prisoner for similar offences.—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MUIR. Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
OSWALD BIRD . I am a solicitor, of 16, Eastcheap—before September, 1893, I had had transactions with the prisoner, and he was in my debt—about September I met him outside the Bankruptcy Court, and asked him how long it would be before I had some of the money he owed me, or something to that effect—he said, "Oh, I have several pieces of business I think you might help me in, and recoup yourself in that way"—he had been a solicitor—I asked him to call and see me in the City—he called,
and brought me several pieces of business—I am not sure that I transacted any of them; but I tried, unsuccessfully, to carry several things out—in October he brought me a bill for £1,000 accepted by Colonel Griffin and asked me to get it discounted—I tried to do so, unsuccessfully—the bill was split up into four separate acceptances of different values, to make it more easy to discount; I had one for £297—Colonel Griffin became bankrupt almost immediately after, and nothing more was done; I returned ray bill to the prisoner—H. A. Cooke purported to be the drawer—from the very first I had constantly been lending the prisoner small sums of money as I knew he was hard up, and on 7th December, 1893, I told him I could not give him any more unless he gave me some sort of security—he told me he wanted that day a cheque for £20 for his sister's funeral expenses, which I gave him, and took this letter from him as security. (This agreed to repay the amount of his debt)—our interview took place at the Grand Hotel—he promised to give me some security, and on the 22nd December he brought me this bill of exchange for £400, at three months, dated 22nd December, 1893—I asked him how he got it—he said, "My brother gave it to me, to assist me; it is not convenient for him to give me cash at present, but he has given me this"—I said, "It is an accommodation acceptance; I must have a letter from your brother authorising you to deal with it "; and I dictated such a letter to him, which he took down in shorthand, and next day he brought me back a letter, purporting to be signed by his brother—I know the prisoner's writing; the body of the letter and of the hill is in the prisoner's undisguised writing. (" Read 23rd December. The promissory note for £400 is mine; given to you for your accommodation, and payable to your enter, and which I will meet on your account at maturity. Yours, H. A. COOKE")—that letter purports to be signed in the same writing and with the same signature as the promissory note—on that I took the bill, and kept it till February 13th or 14th—I advanced him further small sums after 23rd December, amounting to about £30-about the 13th or 14th February this year he wanted more money, and I declined to let him have any—I said "I will if you like to discount the bill, or if I can get it discounted, and give you the difference"—he agreed, and I handed it to a friend, Alfred Capes for discount—on the Saturday before that, I think, 10th February, he said his brother did not wish his paper to be discounted—he had said that to me before, and I suppose I grumbled because he asked me for more money on 10th February, and I suggested he should ask his brother for money, not me—I said "Go and see your brother, and ask him to take the bill up a little before it is due, or" else lend you some money"—he said his brother was at Osborne, attending to his duties, and I lent him £1 16s. on that Saturday to go to Osborne and see his brother—on the Monday or Tuesday I saw him again—he said he had been to Osborne, and had seen his brother but he would not or could not do anything for him, but said that when the bill became due it would be met, and I must wait—I said "I cannot let you have any more money; I must discount the bill if you want me to let you have more money"—that was on the 12th or 13th—on the 13th or 14th I handed the bill to Mr. Capes to get discounted for me—I afterwards ascertained that it was in the hands of the Discount Banking Company of England and Wales, Limited, Lothbury, about a month before it was due—I could not get either the bill or the
money from them, and I brought an action—Mr. Ashley Derby, of 32, Gracechurch Street, was my solicitor in that action—I was present at his office on 21st March, when the prisoner was there, and I saw the prisoner sign this statement.
Cross-examined. My bankers are Messrs. Coutts—there was a bill which Captain Staples accepted and the prisoner drew—I gave the prisoner a cheque for £200 for it—I have not got the cheque; I have a voucher from Coutts—they do not return cheques, and they have mislaid the cheque—I have my bank-book—I have no other securities of the prisoner—I never had in my possession an acceptance by a director of the Bank of England which the prisoner gave me, or any West African shares—I saw an acceptance of Sir Seymour Blane; if the prisoner gave it to me he got it back—I don't know if I ever had it—he asked me to see about it, and I wrote to some people, and there was an end of it—I did not sign the charge-sheet—I am not the prosecutor—I do not think I knew that the prisoner was negotiating for the repurchase of the Rose Hill Estate, Sutton, when he gave me this £400 bill—I knew at one time that Mr. Charlesly was willing to sell to the prisoner—it was after the time of the bill—years ago they had sold to him, and he had resold at a profit—it would be useless to sue the Discount Bank, assuming the prisoner is guilty—I do not assume he is guilty—I made inquiries—Mr. Troup proved under the prisoner's bankruptcy for this £214; I paid Mr. Troup back—I acted for Mr. Troup; it was his money, and when the bill was protested I lost the money; the prisoner knew it—the £400 bill was not given to me, with a number of other documents, to hold and not to discount; it was given to me as security for my past debt and future advances (altogether over £300), in pursuance of the letter I have read to you—there were other advances after December—I never heard of a similar bill three or four years before, signed "H. A. Cooke," at the time the prisoner purchased the Sutton Estate.
Re-examined. I think my solicitors communicated with the Public Prosecutor when I heard from the Discount Bank—I did not believe it was a forgery—I have communicated with the Public Prosecutor; he communicated with the City Solicitor—I have a letter, dated 18th February, from the prisoner, making an appointment for me to see his brother, H. A. Cooke, at St. James's Palace, at 11.30 on Tuesday—I kept the appointment, and saw his brother at St. James's Palace—he repudiated the bill—this is the letter making the appointment—the prisoner met me outside St. James's Palace, he did not go inside—I saw someone who said his name was H. A. Cooke—I said who I was, and that I came to see if the signature to the promissory note was genuine; I had not got it with me—I asked if he signed a promissory note for £400, dated 22nd December—he said he had never signed a promissory note in his life—he said he had been asked about it by somebody from a bank—this was after I had given the note to Mr. Capes; that was why I could not show it to him—I said it was a very serious matter; "I received a note from your brother, George Cooke, and if it is not your signature it is tantamount to charging your brother with forgery"—he repeated over and over again that it was not his signature, and that either he had no brother, or that "That man is no brother of mine"—I cannot say exactly what he said; he was very excited—I think he referred to the prisoner
as "That man"—I afterwards saw the prisoner outside, and told him his brother had repudiated the transaction—I have no doubt I told him exactly what had occurred; I was very angry—I told him it was a very serious matter to him, and that his brother said he was no brother of his, and he knew nothing about it—he still protested that he was his brother, and that he had signed the bill—I cannot remember now what he said; when I told him what had taken place he denied it, and said it was not true.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. This was in February—I was not examined at the Police-court till May—that was the only interview I had with the alleged signer of the bill—after that date I only advanced the prisoner one sum of 18s. for expenses when he came up to my solicitor's office to give him his statement—I declined to see him afterwards—when I rejoined him outside St. James's Palace we got into a cab, and went to Charing Cross station—I there sent a telegram to his wife to come and see me at once—I lost sight of the prisoner while I was telegraphing, and I did not see him again till he was at my solicitor's office a month afterwards—his wife came up later on that day in February to see me—I commenced an action against the bank the next day—my solicitor gave them notice after I was told by the alleged acceptor that it was not his signature, and after I had declined to see the prisoner further—I told the prisoner I had no option as an honest man but to sue for the delivery up of the bill to me, and to see it was not discounted, and, when I got it, to see whether it was a forgery or not, and I gave my solicitor those instructtions—some of the moneys I advanced to the prisoner were by cheques; I have not got the cheques here; my pass-book is not made up; I have sent for it—the £30 does not include the £20 I gave him for his sister's funeral; that was after December.
HENRY AUGUSTUS COOKE . I am clerk of the coal cellars at St. James's Palace—the prisoner is my brother—the promissory note and this letter are not signed by me; I know nothing about them—I cannot see that the signatures are like mine—these other documents were signed by me in the course of my duty as clerk of the coal cellars—I sign "H. Cooke"—I wrote the whole of this time sheet—this is my signature to my depositions. (MR. GEOGHEGAN. stated that his contention was not that the signature to the promissory note was written by the witness, but that it was either written by his authority, or that the prisoner thought he had reasonable grounds for that authority)—I did not sign this document at St. James's Palace on 22nd December, nor this letter on 23rd—I have never put my hand to paper for my brother or anyone else in my life—I did not give the prisoner this bill to help him out of difficulties—I was never at Osborne in my life—I have nothing to do with coal there—I have quarters at St. James's Palace—my brother never produced this bill to me; I never said to him, "The bill is all right, and will be met on the due date"; I know nothing whatever of it—I never gave my brother authority to sign this bill or this letter; I never gave him or anyone else authority to sign any document for me—I never gave him authority to raise money in my name—he called upon me more than three times in 1893 to inquire how I was—I live there with my family—I am very ailing—I cannot say how many times I saw him—I was always on good terms with him—I do not know where he was living during 1893—
I have not known what he was doing for years—I don't suppose I ever wrote to him in my life, nor did I have letters from him—he had no ground for believing that he had authority to use my name for the purpose of raising money.
Cross-examined. I do not know where the prisoner has been living for the last three or four years—I have not seen him frequently—I do not know where he lived—I was never at Kineston House, Harrow Weald—I do not know that the prisoner lived there—someone called on me about five years ago with a bill, purporting to bear my signature; it was not my signature—he asked me if it was my writing—I said, "No," and showed him my writing; and he said, "I see you don't know anything of this affair," and he left—he did not tell me where he got the bill from; I did not inquire—the man asked me if I had a brother, George Alfred Cooke, and I said, "Yes"—I do not remember that he said he had got the bill from my brother—I have a very bad memory—I could swear he did not say my brother had said he had my authority to sign that bill—I did not ask who had been sending my signature about—I did not pay the bill—I never saw that bill again; my brother did not afterwards give it to me cancelled—I have never lent my brother money—I hold no security from him—I hold the deed of our family vault in Brompton Cemetery; I got it from my brother—I don't know why he gave it to me; it is a mystery to me why I hold it—it was not given to me for the promissory note shown me by the man five years ago—I had had the deed about three or four years; soon after my mother was buried—I paid for my mother's burial; before that the deed was in the prisoner's possession—I am a helper in the wine cellars at St. James's Palace, and gasman at the Chapel Royal—I heard that the prisoner's wife's sister died about a year ago from my brother—I do not know the date—I received no invitation to attend the funeral—the prisoner never had my authority to use my name—I have not been sued on this bill.
Re-examined. I am ten years older than the prisoner—I don't know why I should have, the deed of the family vault, because the prisoner bought it.
GERALD SANTON ASHBY DERBY . I am a solicitor, of 32, Gracechurch Street—on 22nd February Mr. Bind instructed me to act for him in an action against the Discount Bank—on 21st March I saw the prisoner, and took down from him a statement made by him in this matter; I put it into its present form—it was read over to him, and he signed it in my presence and that of my clerk; we witnessed it.
Cross-examined. It was never sworn to by him—it was intended to be the draft of a statutory declaration for the purpose of the civil action, but I thought it was sufficient to take the statement—the body of it is all in my writing.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (Detective Inspector, City). About 6.30 p.m. on 30th April I saw the prisoner at Seething Lane Police-station, in Murphy's custody—I told him I was an inspector of the City Police, and should charge him with forging and uttering a promissory note for £400 on or about 22nd December last—I produced the note and the letter, B—he said, "I have seen those before"—when the charge was read to him he made no reply.
Cross-examined. I was the only one who signed the charge-sheet—the case having been taken up by the Public Prosecutor, the City Solicitor is the nominal prosecutor—Mr. Bird was not the prosecutor—a warrant was not issued for the prisoner's apprehension.
JAMES MURPHY (City Detective). On the afternoon of 30th April I arrested the prisoner at the Magpie public-house, Bishopsgate—I said, "I am a police officer; I am going to take you to Seething Lane Police-station to see Inspector Wright"—he said, "What for?"—I said, "You are accused of forging your brother's signature to a promissory note for £400"—he said, "I shall be able to explain all that away; my brother knows all about it, and he has given me authority to use his name on several previous occasions"—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. The only instructions I received were from Wright.
WILLIAM WRIGHT (Re-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN). I first heard a complaint against the prisoner about the 19th—the City Solicitor, or his chief clerk, complained at the Police-office, Old Jewry—I don't know if the Discount Bank put the law in motion; I have never seen them.
H. A. COOKE (Re-examined by the COURT). The different appointments I hold bring me in together £50 a year.
GUILTY. —INSPECTOR WRIGHT. stated that about ten years ago the prisoner was struck off the Rolls, and that three years ago he was a bankrupt.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday and Saturday, June 1st and 2nd, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. BESLEY. and HEDDON. Prosecuted; MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and GUY STEPHENSON. Defended.
WILLIAM JOYNER . I carry on business at 47, Old Broad Street, and I have a factory at 100, London Wall, and two other shops in Liverpool Street and Clerkenwell Road—on the 23rd February the prisoner came in, between 3.45 and 3.50 p.m; I had never seen her before—she asked the price of a picture in the window—I told her the price—she asked to see some others in a portfolio in the shop—I showed her some—she said, "I cannot stop now; I have to go to my solicitors, in Winchester House; I will be back in a few minutes; they leave at four o'clock; I have had a lot of trouble with some tenants of mine in collecting my rents"—she came back about 4.20—she looked through the portfolio, and selected six unframed pictures, and two which were framed and hanging on the wall—we bargained about the price, and agreed at £8 7s. for the six unframed pictures, and £2 10s. for the two framed ones—the six unframed were to be framed and glazed—she ordered a black and gold rather expensive moulding for them, with the best glass—the £8 7s. included the frames—the two framed ones had to be cleaned—I said, "Our business is a cash business; none of these goods will be left unless paid for on delivery"—she said, "Very well; I will pay for the goods on delivery. Who will bring them; this boy?" pointing to Last, who was in the shop
—I said, "Yes; he will bring some of them"—she said, "I wish these goods delivered on the 28th, between the hours of three and seven, at 17, Talbot Road, Bayswater"—she said she was the Mrs. Frost—she asked me to cash her a £5 note, which I did—Last called a cab for her; she gave him some coppers, and left in the cab—I put the six pictures in hand to be framed, and the other two were cleaned at my London Wall factory—I made out this invoice, stamped and receipted as it is now, and gave it to Last, sealed up in an envelope, on the 28th, and directed him to go and get the pictures at the factory, and to deliver them to Mrs. Frost, but not to part with them without the money, and I told him that the receipted bill was in the envelope—I saw him the same evening; he brought back the envelope unopened, just as I gave it to him—he brought back no money, except 1s. 2d. for his fare; he said, "The fare has been paid"—I had not altered my orders to him at all—I told him not to part with the goods on any account without the money—I gave him no right to use his own mind about it—next morning I learnt that only six pictures had been given to Last to take on the 28th; the other two were sent on 1st March by my manager at London Wall, before I knew of it—I had not been to the factory, and did not know but what the whole of the pictures had been delivered on 28th—I don't know what time the remaining two were sent on 1st March; I learnt after the delivery that they had been sent on—I had given no instructions on the matter—I went to Talbot Road on 1st March, about 7.30 or 8 p.m.—I rang the bell half-a-dozen times, but could not get in; the house was apparently empty—I communicated with the police on March 6th, I think—about 10.30 a.m. on the 8th I applied for a warrant—Detective Sergeant Fuller was with me, and the warrant was entrusted to him—this letter was written on 5th March by my brother, who acts as my clerk, by my direction, to Mrs. Frost—next time I saw it was produced by the solicitor to Mrs. Frost at the Police-court, and handed in by her. (This letter was read as follows: "Madam,—I have placed myself in communication with Messrs. Foster and Sons, solicitors, and shall tell them what information I have in my possession. You have treated me shamefully, but I will find out where my property went to. I am on the cabman's track that took them away, and expect to see him to-morrow. I hope you will send me a cheque, or payment for the goods to save bother")—at that time I had some information with regard to a cabman removing the goods—I wanted my money, if I could get it—I received no communication, and the warrant was taken out—on 12th March, four days after the Magistrate granted the warrant, I received this letter in this envelope with a crest. (Read: "Mrs. Frost has been away, and has consequently only just received your letter. She is utterly at a loss to understand your letter; but, as you say you want your pictures back, they will be at once returned")—on 21st March a young man brought the pictures back—I had previously seen him—I would have nothing to do with them, but referred the matter to the police, and the pictures were taken to the Police-station, and the young man was taken into custody for receiving stolen goods—the police still have the pictures—I think the prisoner was taken on the same night, 21st—she and the young man were brought before the Magistrate next day, and the case was adjourned till
30th March, when it was completed; the young man was discharged, and the prisoner committed to trial for larceny—I had a writ from the solicitors acting for the prisoner then and now in a civil action against me for malicious prosecution, before this Session commenced.
Cross-examined. That writ was at the suit of the young man whose case was dismissed by the Magistrate—he was detained by the police at Moor Lane; he went to the Police-station by his own suggestion to avoid being taken there; he did not want to be seen going through the streets—the pictures were brought into my business premises on 21st, and remained there till the police came afterwards and took them away—I did not send for the police—I should have given the young man into custody if the police had not taken him—on 16th March, five days before, he came to my shop, and he asked me whether I preferred my pictures back, or the money—I told him the matter was out of my hands, and in the hands of the police—he asked me whether there was a warrant issued for Mrs. Frost—on the 23rd February the suggestion came from the prisoner that she should see the pictures in the portfolio—she had not given me the name of Annie Frost when she was looking through the portfolio—I said before the Magistrate, "On 23rd February last the prisoner called on me, and gave me the name of Annie Frost"—she gave me her name after she bought the pictures—I don't exactly remember saying, "I said, 'Shall I show you through the portfolio'—she desired to see it; I won't say my deposition is not correct—I don't remember her saying, "Yes"—I did not, when I was examined before the Magistrate, say a word about her saying she could not stop at that time, that she had to go to her solicitor, or about her having had trouble with tenants; or about their rents; or about her returning to my shop; I omitted all that—I said nothing about the production of the £5 note, and the asking for change—I am quite confident I used the words, "paid for on delivery"—I don't remember saying before the Magistrate that I said, "Our terms are cash, and these goods will not be left unless previously paid for"—my deposition was read to me, and I signed it—I thoroughly appreciated its contents, or I should not have signed it—I sent Last on the 28th with a receipted bill for the whole eight pictures—I never sent him with six pictures, but he only took six pictures then—I sent him to the factory, in the belief that he would take all the eight pictures; those were my instructions—the factory is 250 or 300 yards off—Last returned between six and seven that evening, and he told me he had been to the house—I said, "Have you got the money?"—he said, "No"—I said, "Is it a large house?"—he said, "Yes, it was a large house"—he said, "Mrs. Frost has given me the money for my fare, and some money for myself; and she says she knows you very well, and she will come up to-morrow, or the next day, and pay the money"—I did not my, "All right"; I am quite clear about that—I said to him, "What did you leave the pictures without the money for?"—he said, "I took them down the area steps, and Mrs. Frost took them away; I thought she was going to pay for them when she had the purse in her hand; she came with an open purse in her hand"—after I had given him a good scolding I said, "All right, you can go about your business"—I did not say, "All right" immediately
after receiving the message that she would come next day or the day after and pay—my attention has not been called to any of the evidence given before the Magistrate, and I have not referred to it in any way—the two pictures were sent on 1st March by my foreman without my knowledge; I thought they had been delivered on the night of the 28th—I said before the Magistrate, "Six were delivered on the 28th, and two the next day"—it had come to my knowledge then—I said, "I sent the boy with the two to bring the others back, or the money"—that was my evidence in cross-examination on 22nd March—it is not true that I sent the two pictures on 1st March—I gave the boy the bill to take to Mrs. Frost to bring back the money of whole of the pictures—I have not referred to my evidence since 22nd March—the question was put to me, were all these things sent on the 28th? and I said "No; six were sent on the 28th, and the others on 1st March"—it was not true that I sent the boy with the two; I may have thought so at the time; I don't remember saying it—the question was not put to me in the way you put it—I gave the boy instructions overnight to bring back the whole of the pictures, or the money—what I have stated to-day is correct—I cannot account for my misstatement of fact before the Magistrate, unless I was answering in cross-examination—I have not had any consultation with my solicitor since the matter was before the Magistrate—I have seen him, but not to talk of the case—I gave him instructions—I don't remember my attention being called to the evidence I had given before the Magistrate—I don't remember my solicitor asking any questions about it, or putting any words into my mouth—I don't remember my attention being directed to the fact that it was a fact of very great importance whether I or the foreman sent the boy with the two pictures—my solicitor did not say anything of that to me—by the 1st March I knew from information that all the pictures had been delivered at Talbot Road, and on the 5th I caused this letter to be written—I am responsible for the language in it, as it was written under my instructions—the receipted bill was in my possession.
Re-examined. I had no solicitor when I was examined in chief—I had no design in not mentioning about the £5 note being changed; there was nothing extraordinary in changing a £5 note for a customer—the prisoner was represented by a barrister at the Police-court—the question was not put to me in that way, "Sent with the two to bring back the others"—I did not rend the depositions; they were read to me—I knew on 2nd March, the day I went to Talbot Road, that there had been two separate deliveries of six and two—when I wrote this letter I had not seen the police or anybody.
EDWARD LAST . I am in Mr. Joyner's employment—I am not related to him—I am fourteen—I was in the shop when Mrs. Frost came—I heard her speak to Mr. Joyner about some pictures, and say she was going round to her solicitors, and something about gathering some rents.—I was outside when she came back, and did not hear what passed—I showed her to a cab—on 28th February I saw Mr. Joyner write out the invoice, stamp and receipt it, and put it into an envelope, which he gave to me, saying, "Take this over the way and ask Mr. Butt to give you the pictures to take down to Mrs. Frost, and don't leave them without the money, because this is a receipted bill"—I went to London Wall, and Mr.
Butt gave mo two parcels of pictures—another lad helped me to carry them to Talbot Road; I kept the sealed envelope with the receipt—I got to Talbot Road between five and seven—I went to the front door, and rang the bell—the servant came out of the side door, and called me down there; it was below the street level—I went down the area steps, and said, "Is Mrs. Frost in?"—the servant said, "Yes"—I said, "Can I see her?"—she said, "Yes"—she called Mrs. Frost—the prisoner came to the door with her purse in her hand, and I handed the pictures to the servant, because I thought she was going to pay me—the prisoner asked me what my fare was"; I told her 1s. 2d., and she gave me 2s. and said, "There is 10d. between you"—she could see the other lad—I handed her the envelope still sealed up—she said, "Is that receipted?"—I said, "Yes"—she said, "Oh, you can take that back; I don't want that. Mr. Joyner knows me very well. I will call up and pay it to-morrow or the next day, certain"—I said, "All right, ma'am"—I said nothing about the orders I had received from my master—two of the servants were there—when the pictures were put into the servant's hands, I said, "We must undo them, and see they are right"—that was before the conversation with the prisoner—the servant said, "Oh, we can do that," and took the pictures inside, and then the prisoner came to the door and gave me the 2s.—it is the usual practice when a picture is taken home to undo it and see if the glass is broken—the servant shut the door, and then we left and returned to the shop—when the prisoner said she would call the next day I said, "All right; you will come up and pay, won't you?" and she gave me no answer, and the door was shut—I rang the bell and waited for three or four minutes, but I got no answer—I saw Mr. Joyner that night; I said nothing to him about having only taken six pictures—next morning Mr. Joyner gave me the invoice again, and told me to bring all the pictures back, or get the money—he said nothing about the other two pictures; he did not know they had not been delivered—I then went to the London Wall shop, and Mr. Butt, the foreman, gave me the two pictures—I went to Talbot Road by myself with the two pictures, and rang the area bell—the servant who had handled the six pictures came—I asked for Mrs. Frost—I did not see the prisoner on that occasion—I stood the pictures down and the servant took them in, and when I asked for Mrs. Frost the servant said she was out; I could not see her, and she shut the door immediately—I did not get any money—I went back and told Mr. Joyner I had not got the money, and had not brought back the pictures—I did not tell him I had taken the two that morning.
Cross-examined. On 1st March I told Mr. Joyner that I had not got the money, and that I had left all the pictures—I knew on 28th February that eight were to be taken; I only got six—I did not tell my master when I came back that I had only left six—I saw him about seven o'clock on the night of the 28th; not directly after I came back—I had a talk with him; he was very cross with me for leaving them—he asked me if it was a large house; I said, "Yes"—he said, "But Mrs. Frost promised to pay on delivery, and she has not done it"—I said, "Mrs. Frost says she will come up to-morrow or next day certain and pay the money"—Mr. Joyner did not say, "All right"; I am quite sure of that—he did not make use of those words in the course of the conversation
—I have been seen once by the solicitor acting for my master in this case since I gave evidence before the Magistrate, and by Detective Fuller—Fuller was at the solicitor's when I was there; Mr. Joyner was there, too—I was there about twenty minutes—a statement was written down from what I said by a clerk—the detective and Mr. Joyner went out before the clerk started taking my statement down—they were there when I was sent for, but they left before the statement was taken—I do not remember whether my attention was then called to what I had said before the Magistrate—I was asked whether there was something wrong in one statement I made before the Magistrate—Mr. Carver was there at the time—I swore before the Magistrate: "I saw Mr. Joyner after I had been there the first time. He said, 'Is it a large house?' I said, 'Yes, sir.' Mr. Joyner said, 'Oh, but Mrs. Frost promised to pay me on delivery, and she has not done it.' I said, 'Mr's. Frost says she will come up to-morrow or next day, and pay the money certain.' Mr. Joyner said, 'All right' "—that was true—I don't remember if that was the statement to which my attention was directed when I was at the solicitor's office—I forgot for the moment when I said Mr. Joyner did not say "All right"—he said, "All right; I will go down there and see for myself"—I don't remember if that was the statement to which my attention was called—I did not tell the Magistrate anything but what was taken down on the depositions and read to me—I do not know why I did not tell the Magistrate that my master was cross with me for having left the pictures without getting the money—I saw him the next morning before I went with the other two pictures—all he said to me was, "Take the bill and get the money, or bring all the pictures back"—I left the pictures without the money, and brought back the receipted bill—on my return I told him what I had done; he was not cross then, he remonstrated with me—I did not tell him then that I had left the two pictures that day—I told him I had not got the money—I did not take all the eight on the 28th February, because we could not carry them—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner said, "Mr. Joyner knows me very well, and knows all about it "—I don't remember telling the Magistrate that she said, "Mr. Joyner knows me very well"—I did not say before the Magistrate that when I said, "All right, you will come up and pay, won't you?" that the prisoner said, "Yes."
Re-examined. I am not quite sure I said before the Magistrate that she said, "Take back the bill, Mr. Joyner knows me very well"—I am sure she said it—I told my master that.
LOUISA BURGESS . I am cook and housekeeper to Mrs. Adamson, who keeps a boarding-house at 3, Edinburgh Terrace, Kensington—on the 27th February the prisoner called and said she wanted to come as a boarder—Mrs. Adamson showed her a room—she went away, saying she was coming that night to occupy the room; but she did not come—about seven p.m. on the 1st March a man arrived in a cab, with two boxes, some parcels and pictures, and left them for Mrs. Frost—the pictures were tied up—he said he was Mrs. Frost's agent, and "This is Mrs. Frost's luggage"—he went away—about 9.30 the prisoner came with the man who had brought the pictures—he remained a few minutes in the house, and then went away—she stayed that night—the luggage and pictures were taken to her room—she stayed several nights—the pictures were never unpacked;
they remained there until the 3rd, when the prisoner took them away in a hansom cab, saying she was going to send them to her country house at Shanklin—I saw her again that evening; she stayed that night, and on till Tuesday—she went away then, and came back on the following Sunday, I think—on the Friday, I think, she went away—the pictures were not unpacked—I saw they were pictures by their frames, which were black, like these—they were wrapped in brown paper.
THOMAS CHARLES THOMPSON . I am a pawnbroker, at 11, Ladbroke Grove Road, Notting Hill—on 3rd March the prisoner brought eight pictures in a cab—she asked me the price, and said, "I am an artist, and I am in want of money, and so I want to pledge them"—I think they were separate—I advanced £4, and gave her a ticket—about 16th March she came alone, and took them out, paying me the money advanced and the interest, and said, "I will send for them in the morning," and in the morning someone fetched them—these are the pictures.
Cross-examined. I identify them from the subjects—all the eight brought to me are exactly the same subjects as these eight in Court.
EDWARD JAMES LEGGATT . I am a clerk to Smith and Royden, of 52, Lincoln's Inn Fields, solicitors to Messrs. Maple and Co.—we acted in an action of which this (Produced) is the writ. (This, dated 30th January, 1894, was between Messrs. Maple and Mrs. A. Frost for furniture to the amount of £45 10s. 3d., with an order for substituted service endorsed on it)—I produce a summons under Order 14—this is the prisoner's affidavit, admitting that £12 6s. 9d. was due—there was an order that that money should be brought into Court—in default of that there was judgment for £28 6s. 9d. on 26th February, 1894—the man is here who went into possession under a writ of fi fa, by our direction—we received the sheriff's cheque for 19s. as the fruit of the judgment.
Cross-examined. I don't know what the execution realised—we got no goods back—I think the sheriff's charges came out of the results of the execution.
ALBERT WITHERS . I went into possession at the prisoner's house, Talbot Road, on 27th February, under a writ of fi fa, at the suit of Messrs. Maple and Co.—on 28th February the prisoner said to me, "We have some pictures coming for Mr. Taylor; shall you interfere with them?"—I said, "No "—I levied on her goods—Taylor came to me afterwards, and said, "I have some pictures coming; you will not interfere with them?"—some pictures came; and were taken away on the 28th.
Cross-examined. I don't know what pictures they were—I was seen twice; but I only made one statement—the first time I was seen I said nothing about the conversation.
FREDERICK STRIDE . I am a clerk at the Marylebone County Court—I produce four judgments from that Court against Mrs. Frost, of 17, Talbot Road—the first is dated April, 1893, for £7 6s.; there is one of February, 22nd, 1894, against Mrs. Annie Frost for £3 17s. 9d. for milk and dairy produce—none of that has been paid—on one of 12th June, 1893, against Mrs. Annie Frost, of 17, Talbot Road, £10 was paid into Court, leaving a balance of £23 12s. 6d.—nothing has been paid off that since 12th June—there was an application to examine Annie Frost in February, 1894—the answer was that the defendant is said to be out of town, and her agent is Mr. Robinson—the other judgment is 30th May, 1893, for
£21 16s. for coals, against Mrs. Frost, 17, Talbot Road; nothing has been paid on it.
Cross-examined. There is nothing on the documents to show whether or not the parties themselves have been paid.
ELIZABETH WARNER . I went into the prisoner's service as cook at 17, Talbot Road, on 6th December last, and remained till 20th February, when Withers came in—during the last week I was there people called for money—I told the prisoner about it, and she said, "Say I am not at home," and I did so—Lawrence Taylor lodged in the house—I did not get all my wages.
ROBERT FULLER (Detective Sergeant F). I had a communication from Mr. Joyner about these pictures on 6th March—I took a statement from him—on 8th March I attended before the Magistrate and got this warrant for stealing against the prisoner on a sworn information—I had kept continuous observation on 17, Talbot Road, from about six o'clock on 6th March—I went to a large number of people who knew the prisoner, but could get no information of where she was—I also tried to find Lawrence Taylor, but could not find him—I made further inquiries after the granting of the warrant as to what had become of the pictures—I got information from William Taylor, the brother of Lawrence Taylor, as to what had become of the pictures—I did not see them till they were at the Police-station—I took the young man, who brought them, into custody—he was discharged on the first hearing—I first saw the prisoner about nine p.m. on 21st March at Edgware Road Station refreshment room—I said, "Your name is Mrs. Frost, I believe?"—she said, "No, I am not Mrs. Frost"—I said, "I am a police-officer; I am convinced you are Mrs. Frost, and I hold a warrant for your arrest for stealing some pictures on the 28th of last month in Talbot Road"—she said, "Yes, you are right; I am Mrs. Frost"—I told her some pictures had been found in the possession of a young man named Taylor, who was now detained—she said, "Yes, I told Mr. Taylor to take them back; what he did was under my instructions"—I took her to the Police-station—she made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined. I conveyed the pictures from Joyner's to Paddington Police-station between four or five p.m., on 21st—I have been to the solicitor for the prosecution since it commenced—I did not take Last there, nor did he go with me—to the best of my knowledge he was not there with me; he may have been, because I believe the solicitor sent on the Saturday for two or three people he had not seen—I believe he was in the solicitor's office while I was in the clerk's room—a statement may have been taken from him in my hearing; I am not aware it was—an indictment was preferred against the prisoner for obtaining these same pictures by false pretences, and that indictment was quashed, I have heard.
Re-examined. I went round with the prosecutor and Mr. William Taylor for the pictures, and I took Mr. William Taylor into custody then.
ELIZABETH BAKER . I keep a lodging-house at 11, Park Place, Regent's Park—on Tuesday, 20th March, the prisoner came to live there, occupying the dining-room floor—Mr. Taylor took the rooms for her, and brought her there; he only remained a few minutes—she said he was her
agent—on 21st she went out, and I saw her at the Police-court on the 22nd.
MR. MATHEWS. submitted that there was no case to go to the JURY, as the prosecutor had parted not only with the possession but with his property in the pictures, and therefore there could be no felony (Queen v. Solomons, 17 Cox, p. 93). The COMMON SERJEANT, without calling on MR. BESLEY, ruled that it was a case to go to the JURY, and that he should leave it to them as to whether or not the boy had unlimited discretion and authority to leave the pictures without the money.
GUILTY .—She then pleaded guilty to a conviction of misdemeanour at this Court in October, 1888, when she was sentenced to five years' penal servitude. INSPECTOR MARSHALL. proved that, in 1872, the prisoner was sentenced to nine months at Dundee in the name of Mary Ann Bruce Sutherland; that she was the notorious Mrs. Gordon Baillie, and had committed frauds all over the world, and lead such a history as was unrivalled in crime; that she was probably the greatest adventuress of the age; that she came out of prison in 1892, and her ticket had since expired; that since her release she had done nothing but swindling, complaints having reached the police from all over the country; that she had lived at 17, Talbot Road, for eighteen months, evading the payment of rent by being all the time in negotiation for the purchase of the house.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
An indictment against the prisoner for obtaining the pictures by false pretences had on the previous day been quashed by the RECORDER.
513. THOMAS ADDISON GALLEY (30) , Unlawfully committing an act of gross indecency with Frank Leslie Outridge in a British ship on the high seas. Second Count, For an indecent assault on Walter Henry Morgan.
MESSRS. MATHEWS AND BIRON. Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted.
HENRY WILLIAMS (17 K). On the afternoon of 12th May I was on reserve duty at North Woolwich station, about 1.25, and from information I went to 87, Elizabeth Street, North Woolwich, and searched for the prisoner—I found her in the w.c. at the rear of the house—I told her she was accused of stabbing her brother, and I should take her into custody—she said she did not know anything about it—I took her to the station, and she made a statement, which was taken down by Sergeant Kirby.
CAROLINE WATSON . I am the wife of Andrew Watson, of 23, Storey Street. North Woolwich—I am the mother of the prosecutor—on 12th May, a little past one in the afternoon, I had been to the Police-court—the prisoner was standing at the corner of Storey Street—she put her hands to the prosecutor, and called his wife a foul name—a man at the
door asked her the reason she said so—she ran indoors, and came out with a knife; I can't say whether it was a pocket-knife or a table-knife—she stabbed the prosecutor several times over the left ear—I saw the blood—I saw her stab him once—she came round the head of the horse in a dust-cart that was standing in the road—I could not say how many times she struck him; I only saw her strike him once—I saw the blood flowing—he called out that she had stabbed him; she must have heard him—I can't say where she went; I believe she went indoors—the prosecutor's wife was not there—she had a baby in her arms a few months old, and was on the opposite side, by the chapel, not anywhere near.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not see you take the knife out of your brother's hands—I never had any angry words with you—I did not spit in your face; I have had no conversation with you for the last nine months—you called your brother's wife a foul name, and he ran down the street after you.
WILLIAM JOHN VANCE . I am a medical practitioner, of High Street, North Woolwich—on 12th May, between two and three, the prosecutor was brought to my surgery insensible—I found on him five wounds, one remarkable one extending into the cavity of the nose on the left side about two inches long, and to the bone, just like the prick of a knife—also two wounds one on either side of the neck, and one on the finger—the one on the right side was a long superficial wound, but in a dangerous locality, just across the chin and side of the neck; the one on the left side was more of a punctured wound, deeper; he bled a good deal; there was no danger from that—I think the wounds must have been caused by a double-edged knife, a worn-out table-knife would do it—if the wounds in the neck had gone a little deeper they would have been very dangerous.
BARTHOLOMEW O'LEARY . I live at 23, Storey Street—on Saturday, 12th May, 1 had been to the Police-court with regard to the prisoner; she is my eldest sister—about a quarter past one in the afternoon I was at my own door, the prisoner was at the bottom of the street—she started calling my wife foul names—I went to her and asked her what reason she had for doing so—she called her an Irishman's whore—she went about some carts, and came from behind them, and struck me a blow in the head with a knife; to the best, of my belief it was a white-handled table-knife; but I did not see it—I turned round to see who it was struck me, and I received another blow in the side of my nose, right through this handkerchief that I had on—I put up my hand to try and save myself, and was cut through my finger—I bled a good deal; I could not get up for three or four days.
Cross-examined. It was you who hit me with the knife—I had no knife in my hand—you did not knock me on the ground and take the knife out of my hand—I did not strike you on the ear; I was not nearer to you than I am now—I did not strike mother and your sister, Maggie.
By the COURT. I am a bricklayers' labourer—I had been working at Tottenham from Monday till Saturday.
EDWARD BONHAM . I live at 39, Percy Cottages, Storey Street—on 12th May, about a quarter past one, I was in Elizabeth Street, and saw the prosecutor rowing with one of his younger brothers—the mother came out and stood by him, and I saw the prisoner come out and deliver
three stabs in his back with a knife; it looked to me like a clasp knife—she held it like that (striking)—I saw blood on his left cheek directly after—I know nothing of that; they are strangers to me—I was there with my dust-cart.
ELIZABETH BROWN . I am the wife of Albert Brown, a labourer, of 13, Storey Street—I was at the corner of Elizabeth Street—I saw the prisoner run out with a knife and stab the prosecutor two or three times—I cried out, "The knife! the knife!" when the prosecutor's wife came across to me and said, "He is stabbed," and fainted in my arms.
Cross-examined. I did not see you take the knife out of your brother's hands; I was not near you—I took Mrs. O'Leary home when she fainted.
JANE BONHAM . I am the wife of Edward Bonham—I was in Storey Street on 12th May—I heard a cry, "The man is stabbed"—I saw the prisoner running away, and saw the prosecutor bleeding—I did not see any knife.
JOHN BRADLEY (36 K). On 12th May, about 1.50, I was at the Police-station when the prisoner was brought there—she made a statement, which I took down and she signed—this is it. (Read: "When I was passing along Abbey Street about 1.15, Bartholomew Leary and his wife were standing at their front door. My brother ran after me to hit me, calling me a dirty little cow. He lifted his hand to strike me, and my mother received the blow instead of me. He continued his blows, and hit me and my sister, and his wife came from Storey Street and hit my mother and knocked her under a horse's head. I pulled her off the ground, when his wife struck her husband three or four times. He took the knife from her hand and drew it across my mother's wrist. I twisted his wrist and got the knife out of his hand and threw it away in the road, and then went indoors. The above is a voluntary statement made by me at North Woolwich Station")—the knife has not been found.
Witnesses for the defence.
HANNAH O'LEARY . I am the mother of the prisoner and the prosecutor—I was standing in the kitchen from about a quarter to half-past one—I heard the prisoner say, "Oh, mother, here comes Bartholomew again"—he had beat me and my daughter Margaret that morning about ten—I went, to the door and saw my daughter Catherine knocked down by my son—her head was in the passage and her feet on the footpath—I took her up, and he struck at her, and hit me in the chest—I came out, and he knocked me back into the passage—I said, "What are you doing? You are out of your mind"—he struck her again—I put up my hand and my hand was cut—he had the knife in his left hand, and he struck me with the right—this is true—I would not tell a lie for either one or the other; they are my children—I had my hand dressed this morning by Dr. Vance—I had it dressed before, at the same time as my son—I and my son are very good friends—he knocked me down, but I always forgave him, and every time he went to the Court I paid his fine—he had a month before this for striking a policeman—I did not pay that, but I paid the fine for him—I did not summon him for stabbing me, God forbid—I could not see him summoned—I paid for him as my son—my daughter lives in the same house with me, in Elizabeth Street—my son lives in Storey Street—he has one business in Elizabeth Street—the knife was a blade which he had in his pocket—I saw it—I did not take
it from him—I got wounded—I cannot use my hand at all—he said he had five wounds—he went to work last week—I did not see him bleeding profusely, my sight went from me, I was insensible, and I was insensible when Dr. Vance stitched my hand—I did not see my son covered with blood—the people took me in when he gave me the first gash in my hand—my daughter never had any knife, and never went out with the intention of a knife—she did not go into the kitchen to fetch one.
By the COURT. I could not tell you who inflicted the wounds on my son's head—I was examined before the Magistrate—I said there, "My daughter holloaed out 'Here is Bartholomew again,' and I went out and saw her lying down at the door, and Bartholomew striking her"—I don't know how he got his wound, he was as likely to do it as anyone else, for he is a violent character.
W. J. VANCE (Re-examined). I strapped up the hand of the last witness—I attended her soon after I attended the prosecutor—she was brought in, and she had a nasty incised wound on the upper part of the forearm, about two inches long, probably inflicted by the same instrument as wounded the prosecutor—the prosecutor's wife is here.
LAVINIA O'LEARY . I am the prosecutor's wife—they had been to the Court at Stratford to take out a summons, but the prisoner did not appear—going home my husband met me—the prisoner called me a foul name—my husband asked her why she did so—she rushed out of the house with a knife and stabbed him—there is no truth in the suggestion that I hit him with a knife—we live happily together; they don't like it and they try to part us—I did not strike the prisoner's mother—I was not near her—I called out that he was stabbed, and I fainted in Mrs. Brown's arms, and they carried me home.
GUILTY of unlawful wounding.— . Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
515. JOHN SHERWIN (16) PLEADED GUILTY. On a burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Maw, and stealing £16 14s. 6d., his money; and a pair of boots, a revolver, and other articles, the goods of James Haydon Clarke.— Judgment respited for Mr. Wheatley, of the St. Giles's Christian Mission, to see the prisoner.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PICKERSGILL. Prosecuted. HIRSCH HARRIS. I am a jeweller, of 82, Union Road, Rotherhithe—about midnight on 29th April I went to bed, leaving my premises properly secured—about two I heard a smash of glass—I got up, dressed, and went into the street—I found a hole in my window about eighteen inches round, and the broken glass was inside the window—I missed rings, chains, brooches, and charms from the window, value altogether about £14; these four alberts are part of the stolen property—I saw a sergeant and policeman about twenty yards away, coming towards my shop—I spoke to
them—I generally take the principal part of my jewellery out of the window at night.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The constable brought you up to me, and wanted to know if I missed anything; and I looked round, and said I missed certain articles—I said to the constable, "Have you got him?"—I cannot remember the constable saying, "I am afraid we have got the wrong one"—he may have said it; I cannot be sure about it.
JAMES LAWRENCE (215 M). I was in Union Road on the early morning of 30th April—I saw the prisoner at 1.40 standing alone about thirty yards from the prosecutor's shop window—after watching him for some time I lost sight of him—about ten minutes afterwards I saw him in Union Road, walking away from the shop, and about fifty yards from it—at that time a communication had been made to me, not by the last witness—I stopped him and said, "What are you doing about here this early hour of the morning?"—he said he was going to work—I said, "Where do you come from?"—he said, "Deptford "—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "Shoreditch"—his right hand was closed, and he was drawing it up—we were then on the pavement about fifty yards from the shop, and opposite No. 43—I tried to get hold of it—he flung it sharply behind him, and closed with me—we fell, got up, fell again, and then the sergeant came to my assistance.
Cross-examined. I did not stop and search you—I refused to let you put your hands into your pockets—I seized you by the throat and arm—you were so violent, I was obliged to do the best I could—James Eton was not there at the time—I had as much as I could do to hold you.
WILLIAM NELMES (Sergeant 42 M). I was with the last witness on this night—about 1.50, from information received, we were walking down Union Road, and we met the prisoner and stopped him—I was about six yards from him when I saw him take his right hand from his right-hand pocket and throw it, and he closed with the constable, and they fell together—it was opposite 43 and 45—it was a sharp tussle—they went to the ground twice before I could get to them.
Cross-examined. I looked in the area of an empty house close by to see if I could see anything, but you were very violent, and it took us both as much as we could do to take you to the station.
WILLIAM NELMES (Re-examined). I could not see anything pass from the prisoner's pocket when he took his hand away; it was dark—no such statement was made as "We have got the wrong man"—the prisoner gave a false name and address—we found no more jewellery—we did not search till 5.30, although the burglary was committed at two, because it did not get light very early.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that he was coming from Deptford on his way to work, when he was stopped and taken to the station, and that he knew nothing of the chains.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in December, 1886. Five other convictions were proved against him, including two up to which he had been sentenced to five and respectively. He was upon ticket of leave.— Six, Years' Penal Servitude.
517. GEORGE TAYLOR (45) , within four months of his bankruptcy unlawfully concealing, removing, and disposing of a portion of his property, to the extent of £10 and upwards, with intent to defraud his creditors.
MESSRS. BODKIN. and KERSHAW. Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS. Defended
During the course of MR. BODKIN'S. opening the prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY. that he wished to PLEADED GUILTY, whereupon the JURY. found him GUILTY.— Judgment respited upon MR. SANDS. stating his belief that before next Session the prisoner would be in a position to make, some restitution through his trustee to his creditors.
Before Mr. Justice Wills.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted, and MR. GUY STEPHENSON. Defended.
ALICE OSBORNE . I am the wife of David Osborne, of 39, Abbey Street, Deptford—the prisoner lived there with the deceased, Lucy Hutchins, for four months—on May 3rd, between two and three a.m., I was awoke by cries of "Oh, oh!"—I went off to sleep again, and then the prisoner came upstairs and called me, "Mrs. Osborne, will you come down?"—I said, "Yes, in a minute"—I put on some clothes, and when I got down the prisoner said, "Well, what do you think of my wife?"—I said, "I don't think much of her; I should have a doctor"—he said, "What doctor shall I get? I don't know any about here"—I said, "I will go up and ask my husband"—I called Mrs. Adams down, and told the prisoner he had letter fetch the divisional surgeon—he went out, and stayed out about a quarter of an hour—he then came back, and went out again for nearly half an hour. (The witness was here taken out of Court fainting.)
MARY ANN PARKER . I am an ironer, living at Deptford—I was sleeping in the next room to the prisoner on this night—about 1.30 a.m. I said "Good-night" to her—I saw her and her husband go indoors—I followed them directly afterwards—about 1.40 I heard them quarrelling—I heard her call him a pig several times—he said, "If you call me that again I will kill you"—about 2.30 I got up and went into their room, and found she was dead.
Cross-examined. I think it was about five minutes after she called him a pig that I heard the scream; I thought she was in an hysterical fit; I believe she was subject to them—I heard her scream like that once before—she was an excitable woman.
DAVID OSBORNE . I am a painter, and live at this place—between two and three a.m. I was awoke by a noise in the prisoner's room of two persons quarrelling—I heard the deceased say, "I will pinch you for this"—he said, "I will kill you, you b—mare"—she screamed out, and there was a fall, and then quiet for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—the prisoner then came and called my wife downstairs, and a doctor was sent for.
Cross-examined. The prisoner went out to fetch the doctor, but came
back to light his pipe, and went out a second time—he did not return, and I went out to look for him.
FRANCIS THURMAN . I am a medical man, of 478, New Cross Road—on May 3rd, about 3.30 a.m., the prisoner came to me, and asked me to come and see his wife, who had fainted away, and they could not bring her to—I asked him if she had been liable to attacks of the same sort before—he said, "Yes," and that he had always succeeded in bringing her to before this—I went with him, and found his wife lying on a bed in the front room at 39, Abbey Street—she was dead; she had been dead probably more than an hour—I examined her heart; there was no pulse—the extremities were cold—there was no rigor mortis—next morning I made a post-mortem examination at the mortuary—the body was that of a fairly nourished woman, aged about 30—there were bruises; the most prominent and largest bruise was in front of the right temple, about an inch and a half long, and about an inch wide—there was a cruciform mark about the middle of the wound I have described—I think that indicated that that portion of the bruise had been more recently inflicted than the other portion—there was also a bruise of probably older standing across the bridge of the nose, and a black eye, the left eye—I think the bruises were probably caused by a lit, probably a few hours before death—I think those were the only recent bruises—there were old bruises on the left cheek and lower jaw, and one on the back of the head; there was also one on the left knee of no importance—the cause of death, I should say, was failure of the heart's action, syncope—there was an affection of two valves of the heart—I should say that death was probably accelerated by violence—there was no fracture of the skull, and no laceration or effusion inside it—but for those injuries, the woman would probably have lived for a considerable time—it is possible that she might have died without any violence—I think she had been a hard drinker—from the condition of the heart I think she would be extremely liable to fainting fits—I cannot pledge my oath that the bruises might not have been caused months before—it is possible she might have died from syncope, from excitement.
EMMA ADAMS . I am the wife of John Adams, of 39, Abbey Street, Deptford—on May 3rd, about 1.50, I heard a struggling going on, and heard a woman say. "I will lock you up, Tom; I will not put up with it any longer"—then I heard her say, "Oh, oh!" as if in pain, and then it seemed as if she fell, it shook my room very much—that was two or three minutes after she said, "I will lock you up."
Cross-examined. When I first went to live there the deceased had just come out of prison, having done seven days for being drunk.
FRANCIS TAYLOR . I am divisional police surgeon, and live at 224, Lewisham High Road—I saw the deceased on the morning of May 3rd—rigor mortis had just begun—I saw a bruise on her right temple, and effusion in and round the left eye—in my opinion that was a recent bruise, I should say inflicted within a few hours of, or at the time of death.
Cross-examined. I cannot say for certain that the most recent of the bruises had not been caused before twelve o'clock—she was suffering from a form of heart disease, as I gather from what Dr. Therman has said—any excitement or violence might lead to a sudden death in the case of a person so suffering.
JOHN WOOD (511 R). At 3.45 on the morning of 3rd, I was called by Mrs. Osborne to the house—I saw the deceased on the floor—Dr. Thurman came, and I asked the prisoner if he had any idea of the cause of her death—he said she suffered from fainting fits and the heart, that she gave three screams, and fell back on the bed, as he thought, in a fit, but he was unable to bring her to.
PATRICK LEONARD (Inspector R). At seven on the morning of the 3rd I saw the prisoner at the station—I charged him with causing the death of Lucy Hutchins—he made a long statement, which I took down. (This stated that she was suffering from heart disease, and that before living with him she had lived with a man who had treated her cruelly; that he did not strike her, but in larking he had just given her a shove, when she gave three screams and fell back on the bed in a fit.)
MRS. ADAMS (Re-called). When I saw the woman she was lying flat on the bed, as if she had been laid back, not as if she had fallen there.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HENDERSON. Prosecuted.
MARY HOOK . I live at Barton, Bedford—on March 7th I addressed a letter to Miss Peterson, Stockwell, containing two orders for £1 and 10s.—I filled in the name of Ada Peterson, to whom the orders were payable—I afterwards saw those orders at the Police-court—I am acquainted with Miss Peterson's handwriting. (Orders produced)—this is not her signature to these orders.
ADA MARY PETERSON . I live at 43, Acton Road, Stockwell—in March I was expecting a letter from Miss Hook, with money—I did not receive it—the prisoner was a tenant in the house where I was residing—I had not mentioned to her that I was expecting a letter—the signature to these postal orders is not mine—I did not authorise anyone to put my name on them—I never received any money for them—I have seen the prisoner write—I should say the signature is her writing.
EDMUND BUTLER (Detective Sergeant). I am attached to the Post Office—in March a complaint was made to me regarding the missing of three postal orders—I made inquiry, and found that they had been cashed at the Post-office, 420, Brixton Road, on the 9th—I went to 43, Stockwell Road, and asked the persons there for their signatures—amongst them was the prisoner—I showed her the piece of paper, and asked her whether that was her writing—she said, "Yes"—I then showed her the three postal orders, and said, "These three orders were sent in a letter addressed to Miss Peterson, which has not been received; the handwriting of the signatures appears to me to have been written by you; did you write that?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "What did you do with the money?"—she said at first that she had had her pocket picked—she afterwards said that was false, she had given a portion to her mother, and another portion to the matron of a Home where she was at service, and the remainder she had
squandered in various ways, in sweets, ginger beer, and other things—the prosecutrix declined to charge her, but she absconded, and was arrested next morning.
The Prisoner. I lost the money.
THOMAS CLOAK (Police Sergeant). I arrested the prisoner at a Home, 31, Stanhope Street, Drury Lane—I told her she would be charged with stealing a post letter containing three postal orders, one for 10s. and two for £2 88.—she made no reply.
MARY ANN BUCKINGHAM . I am a pew-opener at St. Michael's, Bury Street—I have known the prisoner from a baby—she came to a Sunday School at St. Michael's—I never knew anything wrong of her before this—she is in her right senses, but one of the family, aged twenty-one, is in a madhouse at Caterham.
ELIZABETH DUTTON . I am the prisoner's mother—she has been a very good girl till this—she has been away from me four years at a Home for servants—when she leaves her situation she goes to that Home, and has to work for her food and clothing—I have nothing from her at all.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited, for inquiry by the Ladies' Committee.
520. JOHN WYLES (33) PLEADED GUILTY . On two indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of £2 4s. 6d., and to a previous conviction of a like offence. The amount of the prisoner's deficiencies during a four months employment was stated to amount to £41.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
521. WILLIAM THOMAS SKINNER (40) , to feloniously, marrying Ellen Elizabeth Garrett, his wife being then living, also to stealing a sewing machine, value £7 5s., of Frederick Gilbert Bourne. His second wife, a widow, stated that he had treated her and her children well, and recommended him to mercy.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Nine Months' Hard Labour.
522. MARY ANN BLESSLY (29) , to marrying John George Smith, her husband being alive. The prisoner stated that her husband had ill-treated her, and had communicated disease to her. Dr. Walker stated that he found evidence that she had suffered from such a disease.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Four Days' Imprisonment. And
(523). HARRY MORRITT and WILLIAM NURSE , to endangering the safety of passengers on the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway by shooting stones with a catapult at an engine, tender, and carriages using the railway. The fathers of the prisoners gave them excellent characters, and were willing to become sureties for them.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Discharged on Recognisances.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PARTRIDGE. Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON. Defended.
DAVID COX (Detective Sergeant). On May 14th, about 8.30 p.m., I was with Symes in Kennington Road, and saw the prisoner examining something in his hand—I called Symes' attention to him—he moved towards some shutters—I caught hold of his right arm, and asked what he was waiting about there for—he threw this pair of gloves on the pavement—Symes picked them up and found five coins separately wrapped in newspaper—I said, "You will have to account for the possession of these"—he
said, "I know nothing whatever about them"—I took him to the station and found eighteenpence in silver on him.
Cross-examined. They were wrapped separately in paper, except this one, which rolled out on the pavement.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin at Her Majesty's Mint—these eight florins are bad, and from the same mould; they have paper between each; this is the usual way in which coins are wrapped up to prevent their being rubbed against each other.
At MR. WARBURTON'S. request the prisoner was allowed to make his own statement. He stated that he picked up a little parcel, looked, at it and put it in his left glove, and was taken in custody.— GUILTY †.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
525. ALFRED PAGE (36) PLEADED GUILTY . On burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Charles Harper, and stealing a clock, having been convicted at Maidstone on February 18th, 1889.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
526. ARTHUR HEATHCOTE (64) , to stealing a jacket, the property of Sarah Tazewell; also to stealing a dress of Joseph Liddle; also to stealing a jacket of William Thomas Holland, having been convicted at this Court on June 12th, 1880, in the name of George Swaine. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Four previous convictions were proved against him.—Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
528. RICHARD WILLIAMS (29) , to unlawfully carnally knowing Matilda Jones; also to unlawfully taking her out of her father's custody; also to procuring her to be a common prostitute.— [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Two Years' Hard Labour And
(529). JOSEPH JUPP** (44) , to forging and uttering a cheque for £2 12s., having been convicted at Lambeth in July, 1893; also to stealing £1, and, within six months, £1 2s., of Florence Mermett. [Pleaded Guilty: See original trial image.] Six previous convictions were proved against him.—Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY JUNE. 5TH, 1894.