CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 10TH, 1894.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, September 10th, 1894, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR. GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Bart., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir RANN KENNEDY , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., Alderman of the said City; Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., ALFRED JAMES NEWTON , Esq., MARCUS SAMUEL , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR , Esq., and JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., other Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON , Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., Judge of the City of London Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
TYLER, MAYOR. ELEVENTH 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, September 10th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. MUIR. and GUY STEPHENSON. Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE
ARTHUR JAMES SAUNDERSON . I am a produce broker, and was carrying on business with the late Mr. Charles Holmes at 13, Cullum Street, City—I am acquainted with Mr. Coe, a dentist—on 7th June, in conesquence of a statement made by him, I drew these two cheques, one for £100 and the other for £150—Mr. Coe went to the bank with them—about half-past three on the same day, in consequence of a telegram purporting to come from Holmes, I went to my bank, the London and Provincial, and ascertained the number of a £100 note, which had been paid for the £100 cheque—I then went to the Bank of England, and found that the £100 note had been changed for twenty £5 notes about ten minutes before I got there—up to that time I never saw Frank Dale—on 22nd June Mr. Holmes lodged an information at Bow Street, and on that day he was found dead in his office, by his own hand.
FRANK ERNEST COE . I am a dental surgeon—on 7th June I went with Mr. Holmes to the London and Provincial Bank, and he cashed a £100 cheque—I did not see the money—on that same day, about two, I was with Holmes in Pall Mall, and met Frank Dale outside 118—I had seen him before for about five minutes that morning—he was an absolute stranger—he was with Stebbing and Brown—I had never seen Stebbing before—Brown asked Holmes to hand him £250, and said, "I will then go with Mr. Dale and Stebbing to the Victoria Club, of which they are members, and collect a bet, and return and hand you £350"—Holmes objected—it was then agreed that we should all go to the club, and on the steps of the club Brown asked Holmes for the money, and said, "I will be responsible for the money," and Holmes then handed Brown the notes—Dale was present—Brown said, "Mr. Dale will go into
the club and return in three minutes and hand me the money"—Brown then handed the notes to Dale, and he went into the club alone—he said to Holmes, "I will return and hand you the £350"—I objected, but he went in, and came back in a few minutes with a piece of paper, and said, "Topping's not in; I will fetch him and return in ten minutes"—he did not mention the money—he walked towards the Strand—Holmes, Brown, Stebbing, and myself crossed the street and waited in the porch of the Lyceum Theatre for a long time, but Dale did not return—I did not see him any more.
Cross-examined. I do a little betting once in a while, not for a living—I had known Holmes between six months and a year—I never borrowed money from him—I only had this one bet this year on Ladas for £150; I won that—I gave a post-dated cheque to Brown—it was with him I had the bet—I had no bet with Stebbing or Dale—the cheque for, £150 was not presented—I had no conversation with Brown or Stebbing about it—I had not the money to meet it at the time—my account was overdrawn £ 50—I had a bet for £50 on Bullingdon; that was included in the £ 150; it was £100 on Ladas and £50 on Bullingdon—I did not make a bet of £500 on Sempronius—I saw Dale at Holloway the last day of the remand at Bow Street—the two Dales, Brown and myself were, for want of accommodation, put into one cell, and I then asked Dale openly if I had ever had a bet with him—he said "No"—no one has talked to me about a bet of £500—I asked him the question, because it was given in evidence against me at Bow Street that I had made a bet to that effect—Stebbing said so—I deny it; I know nothing about it; I never lost £500 on Sempronius—I never had any transaction with Stebbing or Dale, I only dealt with Brown—I was not asked for the balance, between £150 and £500—I had no conversation with Stebbing in consequence of that demand—I arranged about that £250 with Holmes—it was not in consequence of my owing the balance of £400 that I went to Holmes to get the £250—it was an utter impossibility, because that race was not run till after the Derby—I had no bet on Sempronius whatever—this occurred on the Thursday, the day following the Derby—I know that Sempronius was run after the Derby; I don't know the day—I never backed Sempronius—I did see Dale when he came back from the club—the bet was not in my name, Holmes had all the management—the £250 was obtained for my benefit—Holmes was to have £25 for his trouble—I owed Brown nothing.
WILLIAM WORMACK . I am porter at the Victoria Club in Wellington Street—on 7th June I saw Frank Dale at the club—he asked to see Mr. Topping—I said he was not in—he asked for a sheet of paper and an envelope that he might leave him a note—I refused to comply with his request—he then took a pocket-book out of his pocket, and tore from it a leaf—he would have written on it, but I ordered him to leave—I said if he knew anything of Mr. Topping he must know that he would not be there that day, it being Derby week—Mr. Topping is a book-maker—outside the club I saw Dale, Stebbing, Brown, Coe, and Holmes—Dale walked across with the others, in the direction of the Lyceum Theatre—he came back again immediately after, perhaps a few minutes might elapse—he said as Mr. Topping was not in he would see Mr. Goldstein—there is no member of the club of that name; I told him so—he immediately left and went along Exeter Street—he did not come back again, he ran away.
Cross-examined. When he first came he asked for Mr. Topping—he did not ask for a man named Fry—when he went out he joined the other parties, and they walked across together—he returned in two or three minutes—I mentioned this in the course of the same week to a solicitor, when he left me he ran away as fast as he could.
ROBERT TOPPING . I am a member of the Victoria Club, and am a commission agent—neither of the prisoners are members of the club—I do not know a man named Bryant—I never made any bet with him—on 7th June I was at Epsom, not at the club.
CHARLES HERRERT WHICHER . I am a cashier at the Bank of England—I produce a Bank of England note for £100, number 91601, dated 18th December, 1893—it was presented at the bank on 7th June, about half-past three—it was paid in twenty £5 notes, numbered 97891 to 97900 inclusive, dated 28th March, 1894, and numbers 90351 to 90360, dated 23rd April, 1894—to the best of my belief it was the elder Dale to whom I gave those notes—he had another £100 note in his hand at the time—I asked him if he wanted to change that also—he said "No"—I also produce a Bank of England £5 note, No. 90351, dated 23rd April, 1894; that is one of the notes referred to; that was paid in on the 26th June, by the London and County Banking Company, Newington branch.
ALBERT POOLE . I am manager to Mr. Whiter, of the Fountain public-house, Camberwell Road—I know both the prisoners as customers—I changed a £5 note for the younger prisoner about three or four months ago; I can't say that it was this note; I can't remember the number—I handed it to my master—I have known the younger Dale five years as a customer—I understood that he had some money left him about eighteen months ago by an uncle; I have changed £5 notes for him three or four times.
ALFRED WARD . (Detective Sergeant E). I arrested the elder prisoner on 26th June, at the Bedford Head Hotel, Tottenham Court Road, on a warrant which I read to him—he said, "I know nothing at all about it, it is that betting affair; I am a commission agent, acting for Coe, Stebbing, and Brown in the matter; it is quite right. I received the notes and cashed one of them for £100 the same day, and brought the money back, but I decline to tell you who I gave it to; Brown's share was to be £42. The bet way a snaid one" (that is a bogus one); "it was first paid by a draft that was worth nothing; the man Coe is at the bottom of it; I never saw the man that paid the bank notes before that day; he was a stranger to me. I went into the Victoria Club on other business, not in connection with the bet at all"—I took him to Bow Street, where he was charged; he made no reply and refused his address—I went to his house, and saw the wife of the other prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
663. GEORGE WILLIAM THOMPSON (32), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a bag, a cash-box, and various securities, and £100, the property of the London and North-Western Railway Company. There was another indictment against him for stealing a bag, the property of the Great Eastern Railway Company.— One Month's Hard Labour. And
664. CHARLES COLLINS (21) , to breaking and entering a warehouse, and stealing various tools; also to stealing three planes and other tools, the property of Arthur Pearson, and other tools, the goods of other persons; also to stealing two planes and other articles, the property of George Swan; also to a conviction of felony in June, 1893, in the name of Henry John Dixon.— Ten Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: see original trial image.]
MR. C. F. GILL. prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
During the progress of the case the prisoner stated in the hearing of the JURY. that he PLEADED GUILTY , and thereupon the JURY. found him
There were other indictments against the prisoner for forging endorsements on cheques, the property of Messrs. Beard and Son, his masters.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, September 10th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
666. GEORGE GRAY** (35), and CAROLINE GRAY (24), PLEADED GUILTY to having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it; also to having implements for coining in their possession. GEORGE GRAY— Five Years' Penal Servitude. CAROLINE GRAY— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
668. GEORGE FREDERICK PIKE (39) , to stealing £282 2s., £188 6s. 11d., and £110 5s., of Max Leonard Walchter and another, his masters, who recommended him to mercy. The prisoner's defalcations amounted to £40,000.— Three Years' Penal Servitude [Pleaded guilty: See original image.]
669. ARTHUR HARRY GREENLAND (36) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, out of a post letter, two orders for the payment of money, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original image.] And
670. HENRY JOHN O'CONNELL (21) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, out of a letter containing a postage stamp; also a letter containing an order for the payment of money, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Discharged on Recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original image.]
671. JAMES DAILY (27), and ALICE MOORE (25) , Unlawfully having in their possession a mould for coining; also to unlawfully possessing counterfeit coin. DAILY** PLEADED GUILTY. to both indictments. — Five Years' Penal Servitude. MR. PARTRIDGE, for the prosecution, offered no evidence against MOORE.— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 11th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted.
GEORGE THATCHER . I was shopman to Thomas and John Parry, of 224, Regent Streets—on 5th February, about six o'clock, a man who I failed to identify came and asked to be shown some goods—he bought a small diamond scarf pin and a small gold horse brooch—the things amounted to £4 9s.—these (produced) are the things—he paid by this cheque for £7 15s.; it was not then endorsed—he endorsed it in my presence, and I gave him in change £4 9s.—it was paid into the bank, and was returned marked "No account."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The man said he was a jockey, or rider, in the employ of General Owen Williams, and had ridden for him many times—he was a clean-shaved man; he had no beard.
RICHARD BURGESS . (Police Inspector, Brighton). The prisoner was arrested at Brighton on 9th February—I was present when he was searched—these two articles were found on him—he was charged with obtaining the goods—he was clean shaven, and had a moustache of about a week's growth, and might have had a very slight whisker.
Cross-examined. I am aware that there is a warrant out for a man named Campbell; not on this charge—about this time there were a good many forged cheques about—I have seen the prisoner write—the body of this cheque is something similar to his writing; I can't say more.
JOSEPH HENRY CANNING . I am cashier to Messrs. Ives and Allen, bankers, of 99, Cannon Street—this cheque is one of ours—we have no customer of the name of J. H. Williams—the cheque-book was issued to a Mr. C. C. Kendall in October, 1892—that account was closed in December, 1892—the book contained twenty-five cheques; four have been used, which drew out all the money—the cheque-book was retained by the customer—General Owen Williams has no account with us.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted.
RICHARD WILLIAM DODD . I keep the Stanhope Arms, Little Chester Street—on 4th January I changed this cheque for £4 15s. 6d. for the prisoner—he was brought by a customer, Mr. Farrant, for whom I had been in the habit of changing cheques—before this cheque was produced Farrant asked, "Can you change me a cheque?"—I said, "Yes, if it is not too big"—he said to the prisoner, "Where is it?"—the prisoner put his hand in his pocket and produced it—I said to Farrant, "I do not know this man or anything about the cheque. Do you know if it is all right?"—he said, "Yes; it is all right, Mr. Dodd"—I then put £4 15s. 6d. on the counter, and the prisoner took it and put it in his pocket—he said nothing—I paid the cheque over with others to Mr. Poole, a general dealer, a next-door neighbour, in settlement of some account—about three days after it was returned to me by Mr. Poole, and I refunded the money to him.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I don't think I ever saw you before—I think I should have known you again—the man had a little whisker, but no beard or moustache—I knew you at once when I saw you at the Police-court—I should not have changed the cheque but for Mr. Farrant's introduction—he is a coachman in the service of Colonel Trotter—I saw you for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I next saw you in the dock at the Westminster Police-court—I did not pick you out from others—I was not asked if I could identify you.
JOHN GEORGE ELLIS . I am a coach-builder, of 76, Rotherville Road, Fulham—I have known the prisoner for some time; he is a gentleman's coachman—I had an account at the City Bank, Shaftesbury Avenue; it was closed in May, 1893—I was in the habit of carrying a blank cheque about with me in my pocket-book—about last Christmas I met the prisoner and gave him a business card out of my pocket-book—I cannot speak to this cheque—my attention was called to the matter three weeks afterwards—I then looked in my pocket-book and found that the cheque was gone.
Cross-examined. I had an idea that I had lost it; I might have lost it at any time—there are scores of men round Belgravia who would answer your description.
CHARLES PERCY MYERS . I am employed at the City Bank, Shaftesbury Avenue—we have no customer named H. J. Williams, the drawer of this cheque—it was issued in a cheque-book to John George Allen in March, 1893—we have no customer named J. A. Campbell—this cheque was presented and returned marked "No account."
HENRY JONES . (Police Sergeant B). I have had charge of this case—I had the prisoner in custody—he was first charged with the present case—Mr. Ellis was not taken to identify the prisoner—I was given to understand that he had known him from a child—I was given to understand by Farrell, who was with me, that Mr. Dodd had known him—he did not tell me that he had only seen the prisoner for ten minutes—Farrell could be produced in a short time—he was in Germany when the case was before the Magistrate, and we could not find his address—he returned this morning.
NOT GUILTY .
676. JAMES HEMBURY (17), ROBERT HENDEBOURKE (21), and JAMES JONES (21) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Harwood and others, with intent to steal; also to three other indictments for like offences.—HENDEBOURKE and JONES— Three Years' Penal Servitude. HEMBURY— Discharged on recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. SHERWOOD. Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 11th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
678. WILLIAM SMITH** (23), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a dressing bag and fittings, the property of John Longman, having been convicted of felony in this Court on January 30th, 1888.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
680. JAMES CULLEN (18), and JOHN DILLON (28) , to stealing a bicycle, the property of Henry Robert Carter, Dillon having been convicted at Clerkenwell on July 25th, 1892. There were other indictments against the prisoners. DILLON**— Two Years' Hard Labour. CULLEN— Twelve Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original image.] And
MR. RICHARDS. Prosecuted.
ROSE BATES . I am the wife of Henry Bates—I was originally Rose Woodward, and was a depositor in the Post Office Savings Bank, and never altered the name when I married—I made a deposit of £5 at High Street, Kensington, and I made the last deposit, £2, last March—I sent my room to the Post Office in April to be made up, and had it back in an envelope like this, addressed to Mrs. Rose Woodward—I kept it in my room in a box which was not locked—the prisoner is my daughter, and had access to it whenever she came—I had occasion to draw some money, and my book was gone; only the cover was left, and the name was taken off the cover—I gave information to the Post Office, and a gentleman brought me a notice of withdrawal for £19 18s., which was not my writing—I did not authorise anybody to write this for me; it is like my daughter's writing, but I cannot swear to it.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I have seen you in my bedroom.
FREDERICK DEAN . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department, General Post Office—I received a notice of withdrawal of £19 18s.; a letter accompanied it, explaining the difference in the writing (Stating that it was through gout in her right hand)—I gave instructions that particular care should be taken as to who received the money.
EDITH FLORENCE PALMER . I am an assistant in the Post-office, 74, Edgware Road—I received a letter of advice to pay £19 18s., and these instructions, in consequence of which I took particular care when the prisoner presented the warrant—I spoke about the signature, and she said she had the gout in her right hand—I paid her the £19 18s., and made the entry in the deposit book—she was not in the office more than five minutes.
Cross-examined. I never had any doubt at all about you.
—if they are going to send letters I require to see the advertisement first, and then make an entry in my book.
Cross-examined. I cannot recognise you.
HENRY CAVILL . I live at 49, Catherine Street, Buckingham Gate—the prisoner and her husband were living there in May, and about May 18th or 19th the prisoner said she had just drawn her money, and had got it through an investment of her mother.
Cross-examined. I remember your husband telling me he had had some money left him.
WILLIAM CHARLES BELLAMY . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department, General Post Office—this case was put into my hands in August, and I went to 25, Osnaburg Street, and saw the prisoner, but she was under the influence of drink, and I could not understand her—I saw her again on the 11th, and had some conversation with her.
By the COURT. She was not warned. (The COURT. ruled that this conversation was inadmissible, the prisoner not having been cautioned.)
The prisoner. I told the Magistrate I never suffered from gout; I never had the gout in my life.
Re-examined. I showed her this paper, signed "Rose Woodward," and also at the house—she signed a paper which I have not got; I gave it to the solicitor to the General Post Office.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that she never went into her mother's room alone, and had not seen her book for years; that she never robbed anyone in her life, and should not think of committing such a sin against her own mother; that Mr. Bellamy told her husband's employer about the case, who discharged him at once, and he had not been able to get employment since; that her home had been broken up, and that Mr. Bellamy induced her to sign a paper without reading it, which was quite different to what he told her.
W. C. BELLAMY. Re-examined). The prisoner asked me whether she could see her husband: I knew where he was employed, and went to him, and his employer seemed to know something about the case—I am told that the case had been in the newspapers—the husband had been in the employment of Messrs. Jennings two months; they discharged him, but they told me they intended to discharge him in a fortnight—he was here yesterday.
GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the JURY.— Judgment respited.
MR. WOODGATE. Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH. appeared for HORNIMA, and MR. PURCELL. for FEINBERG.
EMMA BARRETT . I am the wife of William Barrett, of 72, Brooks' Wharf, Hommerton—on August 24th, about 10.15 p.m., I got into an omnibus at Victoria Street—the prisoners got in together after me, and Horniman sat next to me—the one with the cork leg sat forward; the other one told him to do so—I felt a fumbling by my side, and said, "Oh,
my money"—I put my hand to my pocket and felt Feinberg's hand move away—I knew what money I had in the morning, and what I spent—I lost 3s. 2d.—I spoke to Feinberg—he said, "Do not accuse me; you must be careful"—I said, "I have got no one to accuse only you"—I spoke to the conductor, and a policeman was called—I had pulled my purse out when I paid, but I put it back in my pocket—the prisoners were taken in custody.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I did not accuse Horniman because he did not do anything—he was not taken then, he followed aside—he has an artificial leg—he sat with his hands on his knees—he did nothing—I did not say first that I had lost 1s., then 2s., and then 3s.—I said nothing till I counted my money—when we got to the Police-station Horniman was put in the dock, but not at the same time as Feinberg—I had nothing else in my pocket but my handkerchief, which I did not take out—it was raining—I put my purse at the bottom of my pocket, and my handkerchief over it—I had last counted my money when I was at my sister's, at Westminster—only sixpence was found on Horniman.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I felt something a few minutes after Feinberg said, "Sit forward," and put my hand to my pocket, and found my purse there, although the money had gone—the conductor said, "Are you sure you have lost your money?"and he said, "I will see this lady righted."
Re-examined. When I took out my purse in the omnibus I shut it up, and when I found it in my pocket afterwards it was open.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am a metropolitan stage conductor, 4300—on 24th July I was on duty on an omnibus going from Victoria to Ludgate Circus, and a lady inside said that she found one of the prisoners' hands in her pocket—they had got in at Catherine Street, Strand; they could hear what she said—I asked her if she was certain, as it was rather a serious accusation—she showed me her purse; it was empty—she accused Feinberg, and said she could not afford to lose it—I called a constable, and she gave Feinburg in charge—the constable went on with him, and Horniman followed—I went on the journey, and a shilling fell from under a cushion, and I looked and found another shilling under the seat, where Feinberg had been sitting.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. There were other passengers in the omnibus, which was searched by a constable about a minute after Feinberg was given in custody, but nothing was found—I searched the omnibus when the shilling dropped out, before I had finished the journey—I had been to Shoreditch, and on the return journey, somewhere near Whitehall, the shilling dropped out—the omnibus had not been empty.
JOHN WILTON . (372 City). On July 24th I was on duty at Ludgate Circus, and the prosecutrix charged Feinberg with stealing 3s. from her—he made no reply then—I saw Horniman in the omnibus—he followed to the station, and was charged—he said, "If he took the money I must have seen it"—I found on Feinberg a shilling and threepence-halfpenny, and saw another constable find a sixpence on him.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Feinberg gave me his address, and another officer made the inquiries, and told me that his mother had lived there for years.
Horniman's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent of the charge; I was getting an honest living."
NOT GUILTY .
FIELDER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. BROXHOLME. Prosecuted.
LEWIS SPIERS . I live at 12, Clephane Road, Canonbury—on 19th July I left home and shut up my house; I came back that day week and found all right—I went away again and returned and found it had been broken into—I identify these clocks and pencil-case, but not this thermometer—one clock was in the dining-room and one in the front bed-room; I found one in the hall and one on a chair on the first landing.
JAMES HISCOCK . (240 N). On 31st July, about 10.45, I examined the front door of 12, Clephane Road and saw marks—I stayed there some time and heard a noise inside the house—I got under a dead wall and sent for assistance—King and I went back and Pearce went to the front door—I got over the wall and disturbed a large dog, which prevented my going further, but a man ran down the garden and got over a fence into Marquis Road—I called to King and afterwards saw Kay in his custody in Essex Road—he was taken to the station and charged—he made no reply—I found on him six handkerchiefs, a pearl necklace, a pencil-case, brooch, and pocket thermometer.
JAMES KING . (260 N). On 31st July I was called to 12, Clephane Road, and went with Hiscock to the rear in the Marquis Road and saw Kay run by on the opposite side; I chased him, came up to him, and said, "I shall arrest you and take you to the station"—I took him back to the house—he said, "You won't find anyone else, I am the only one. I was passing the house and saw three men come out; they asked me to go to the back and get a dark lantern, but I could not find it"—these articles were found in the garden.
Cross-examined. You did not say that you had left a dark lantern in the passage.
EDWARD CONNELL . (Police Inspector N). At 12.30 p.m., on August 1st, I examined these premises, and found a slight mark of this Jemmy on the door, and marks on the side of the door—the back window sash had been forced from the bottom from the screws, and there were marks of this jemmy on the window sill—some screws were taken from the bolts, and they got into the house, which was all in an uproar—the jemmy had been used to break open several articles of furniture—this lantern was by the side of the clock—this smaller jemmy was found in the upstairs front room.
Kay's defence. I was passing the house, and saw three men leaving; one had a small parcel under his arm. One said, "I believe we have left the lantern; bring it;" another said, "Don't think of that, man; let us get away as quick as possible." I went into the house, and saw things lying there, and came out with the good intention of warning the police. I have always been an honest lad. I belong to a trades union, and shall be turned out if I am convicted.
KAY, GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour. FIELDER— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 12th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SANDS. Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN. Defended.
ALEXANDER SKEEN SMITH . I am a commission agent at 114, Fore street,—I represent Messrs. Ainsworth and Sons, linen thread manufacturers, and also Messrs. Paton, lace manufacturers—Coten has been my customer on six occasions for thread, and on one occasion for laces—Winter and Connolly were porters in my service—about 12th June I had some conversation with my stock-keeper, and on 25th June I checked a portion of my stock—on 25th June my brother made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went with him to Alfred Dennison's shop at 25, Brick Lane, about 6.30 p.m.—in his window I saw two boxes of boot-laces, with Paton's name on—they are called mohair, but they are cotton—I saw Dennison's wife—I went then to Coten's shop, about seven minutes' walk further on along Brick Lane—saw Coten; I asked him about the laces I had seen in Dennison's window—I said that Mrs. Dennison had informed me that she was buying laces from him at very reasonable prices, that these laces I had recognised as mine, and I knew I had not supplied them to him, and I asked how he got them—he said he had bought some from a hawker, and sold a job line to Dennison at 10s. 6d. some time since—I pulled out one of these leather laces, and recognised it as similar to what was in Dennison's window—I spoke to the prisoner about that, and also about a mohair lace—I said, "These are the same laces that I saw at Dennison's"—I saw some of Paton's square lace at the prisoner's—I could identify them; other people besides Paton make square laces—I went back to Dennison's, and saw Dennison there—I then went back to Coten's, and on the way I met him coming towards Dennison's shop—I went back with him to his shop, and asked him if he would give me a sample of the laces in his window—he said, "Certainly"—I pulled out one, and showed it to my brother, and took it with me—on Tuesday afternoon I saw Connolly—on Tuesday morning I went to Dennison's, and found that the laces I had seen on the previous day were gone—I met the two Dennisons at the door—I went to the Police-station with them—I then went to the prisoner's shop, and told him I had missed a quantity of thread, and that if he knew anything about receiving it it would be best for him to tell me, as I did not want to put the police on him if he satisfied me he had received goods in a proper way. (MR. GEOGHEGAN. submitted that as the prosecutor's question held out an inducement to the prisoner, the statement made by him in answer should not be given in evidence. The COURT. so ruled)—I went back to my office, and then Connolly made a statement to me—on Wednesday, 27th, I called in the police; Hallam and two other detectives came in—Connolly then made a statement in which Winter acquiesced—on the afternoon of that day I went to the prisoner's shop with Hallam and two other detectives, and asked the prisoner if he was going to pay the account he had promised; that it was very much overdue, and it
was time he had paid it—Hallam came forward and spoke about the threads, and the prisoner made a statement. (The COURT. excluded this statement, it being upon the same subject matter', and as the inducement held out upon the previous day must be considered as continuing)—Hallam said he was a detective officer, and that he had heard from me that thread had been missed, and that the two porters had confessed that they had taken thread to Coten's shop, and would he mind his looking round—he let us look round—after searching for some time we found three or four papers of thread in the window—each paper contains six balls of Ainsworth's thread—the prisoner produced this invoice, which refers to No. 5 Blake thread—I found this paper of No. 6 thread; I have never supplied any No. 6 thread to the prisoner—the price of it is 26s. per dozen, less 12 1/2; per cent.—the price of two gross of mohair and 120 pairs of leather laces would be 12s. to 15s. wholesale—I should not sell to a retailer—these laces would be 3s. 9d. per gross—two days before Connolly made a confession I and my brother followed him down Fore Street to the foot of Fore Street, and he suddenly disappeared at the corner of Moorgate Street, near the station—he was going out then with thread.
Cross-examined. I can identify these laces because of the tags, and the way they are put on, and the finish of the laces—other firms do not use exactly the same tags as these—the value of the laces stolen from me and found at the prisoner's is between 2s. 6d. and 5s.—I first went to the prisoner's on 25th June; he was arrested on 27th—this parcel, marked "Ainsworth's sewing-machine linen thread," was presumably openly exposed in the prisoner's window from 25th to 27th—the value of a parcel of six balls would be 13s.—you would have to pull the threads out and count them to see if it was six or five thread—you could not tell which it was without closely examining it—Connolly and Winter made an accusation against another man—he was taken into custody—on his premises thread was found—the Alderman discharged him—Connolly and Winter were porters, and would take round and deliver goods—should have accepted an order brought by Connolly from the prisoner; I should not give Connolly any commission—I have had the same stock-keeper for three years, and have every confidence in him—I have only had the thread agency since January—numerous quantities of this thread have been taken away from the place over which the stock-keeper exercises supervision.
Re-examined. I took over Ainsworth's business on 1st January, and with it I took over some of the former agent's servants—when I took stock on 25th June I valued the deficiency I found at £50—I made inquiries in consequence of something the stock-keeper told me—the different kinds of thread are kept quite distinct in the store-room, and are doubly checked—the porters had access to it; the carelessness of the stock-keeper had something to do with it.
ALFRED DENNISON . I am a leather seller at 26, Brick Lane—I have done business with the prisoner—at the beginning of June he said to me," I have a job line of laces I bought at a sale; will you have a look at them? I can sell them to you cheap"—I looked at them and bought them for 10s. 6d., two gross of mohair laces in taxes and about 124 pairs of leather and about twenty-four pairs of cotton laces—these are about the same sort of boxes; there were two boxes—on Monday, 25th June, I got
home about 9.25 and my wife showed me a card—shortly afterwards the prisoner came in—he said, "I want those laces back you bought of me"—I said, "You cannot have them"—he said, "I must have them very particularly; I will give you the money back you paid for them," and he wanted back some more that I had before from him—he said, "Have you a fire?"—I said, "What for?"—he said, "I must burn them; they are stolen property"—I said, "Take them away"—he said, "Call at my place and I will pay you"—he asked me if I had seen two gentlemen—I said, "No"—he said; "I am so glad of that"—I had bought six gross of mohair laces similar to these before from the prisoner at 14 1/2 d.; a gross; he took them back when he paid me the 17s. altogether—next morning Mr. Smith came to me, and I went to the prisoner's shop with him—I heard a conversation between the prosecutor and prisoner—I once bought five-cord thread from the prisoner at 19s. at the end of May or beginning of April—I sold it to my brother for £1—I bought the other laces from him at the beginning of April.
Cross-examined. My shop is about seven minutes' walk from his—he gave me back the 17s.—after he got the laces back he said, "I want to get these laces because I have just found out they were stolen."
ALBERT DENNISON . I am a leather seller, and keep the shop at 160, Wells Street, Hackney, and am the last witness's brother—at the end of May I bought some thread like this, but not six-cord, from my brother, and paid £1 for it—in the next month I bought thread from the prisoner for 18s. a dozen.
EDWARD CONNOLLY . in custody). was in Mr. Smith's employment—I pleaded guilty last Session to stealing thread from him, and I am now undergoing a sentence of three months' hard labour—I also stole laces—I and Winter were passing through Brick Lane with a truck-load of goods, thread and laces, and Coten was at his door; he called us over and asked us what we had got in the truck—we showed him and went into his shop—he gave Winter a bottle of ale; I would not have any there—he took us over to a public-house and we each had a glass of ale—he told us if we could bring him any thread or laces he would pay us well for them—Winter said to me, "Do you think we had better take them?"—I said, "It is rather risky"; but we took him some a day or two afterwards, and since that we took it—he said once, "You don't fetch enough; fetch as much as you possibly can"—we went on till Mr. Smith found his stock was short and he called me into his office and I made a confession—we mostly took the laces with the thread—the laces were mohair and leather—the thread was Blake thread and was always six-cord, because we did not have so much sale for six-cord; but we had a large sale for five-cord, and it would have been missed—the prisoner told us to try and make it five, and we said we could not; he used to buy five-cord—if I was loading the truck and Winter was fetching goods out to me he would fetch out a parcel more than we had to take, and if he was loading the truck I would carry it out—if we had anywhere else to go we would go there first and to the prisoner's afterwards—sometimes if we had not to go his way we would make up the stuff into a paper bundle and leave it at Moorgate Street Station.
Cross-examined. I gave evidence last Session—since then I have seen Mr. Smith's solicitor's clerk, and made a statement to him—I had
previously made a statement to the detective in Mr. Smith's office—the prisoner spoke to me at the latter end of February, or the beginning of March—I was an honest man until he spoke to me—a few days before that I had agreed to steal for another man—he was at our warehouse, and asked me to rob my employer, who was good to me; I had no fault to find with him—it may have taken me half-an-hour to make up my mind after the proposal was made to me, and consent to rob my employer—we took about a dozen packages a week to the prisoner's; it may have been fifty or sixty balls a week, more or less—I have not taken stolen thread or laces anywhere else than to the prisoner and the other man—the prisoner paid me in his shop whenever I took things there.
JOSEPH WINTER . in custody). I have been in Mr. Smith's employment—last Session I pleady guilty with Connolly to stealing a quantity of thread, and I am now undergoing three months—I and he had been delivering goods in Shoreditch, and we were coming from there to Whitechapel, and we saw the prisoner at his shop door in Brick Lane; he called to Connolly, and he stopped—the prisoner said, "What have you got there?"—Connolly said, "Laces"—the prisoner said, "Cannot you get me some laces?"—Connolly said, "No, these are for a customer in Whitechapel Road"—we went into his shop and I had a bottle of ale—Connolly would not have any—we went across to the public-house, and talked about getting goods—the prisoner asked us if we could not get any good thread or laces—we made up our minds that we would take him half a dozen—we went back to his shop—the prisoner showed us a mug of money, and said if we brought goods that would be ours—a few days afterwards we took him half a dozen balls of Blake—we afterwards took him thread and laces.
Cross-examined. I have not heard of an offer to be taken back into my employment—the prisoner was a perfect stranger to me at that time; Connolly knew him—that was the first time I had robbed my employer, and the first time Connolly and I had agreed to rob him—I never took goods to anyone before I took them to the prisoner—I robbed my employer for another man beside the prisoner; I could not say the date.
Re-examined. I was new to this Fore Street business—Connolly had worked there before me.
FRANK HALLAM . (Detective, City). On June 27th I was called to Mr. Smith's premises, where Connolly made this confession, in which Winter acquiesced—afterwards I went with Mr. Smith to the prisoner's premises—I found these balls of thread.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months Hard Labour.
686. CHARLES PEARCE (23), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a purse and £ 18s. from the person of Caroline Sasse; also to a conviction of felony in February, 1894.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour The GRAND JURY. commended the conduct of Arthur Carson, a postman, who captured the prisoner. The COURT. awarded Carson £2.
Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
688. JOHN DORRINGTON (56) , to converting to his own use certain securities entrusted to him as agent, with directions in writing; and obtaining certain securities by false pretences from certain persons with intent to defraud.— Eighteen Months Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
689. SAMUEL LONG (63) , to forging an order for the delivery of live casks of tartaric acid; also to forging an order for the delivery of hair brooms; to forging an order for the delivery of house flannel; and to obtaining by false pretences hair brooms from George Harold Kent; tartaric acid from John Bennett, Lawes and Co; and bales of house flannel from John Blackwell. The prisoner had previously been sentenced to three terms of penal servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
690. ALBERT ERNEST GARRETT (33) , to forging and littering a banker's cheque for £4 11s. 5d; also to embezzling cheques for the payment of £4 11s. 5d., £4 10s., and £1 10s. 7d., received by him for and on account of William Topley and Sons, his masters.— Four Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
691. GEORGE BRIDGES (18) , to forging and uttering an order for the delivery of grapes and tomatoes; also to obtaining fruit and vegetables from various persons by false pretences with intent to defraud; also to a conviction of obtaining goods by false pretences at Liverpool in January, 1894.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
692. JOHN TRING** (36) , to stealing a waistcoat, the property of Edward Kirke;also to a conviction of felony in September, 1892, at this Court in the name of Farren.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
693. GEORGE PAGE** (32) , to stealing a clock and a rug, the property of William Veal; also to a conviction of felony in November, 1893, in the name of Hastings.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
694. JOHN WILLIAMS* (48) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Francis Deadman, and stealing two gold chains and other articles;also to a conviction of felony in May, 1887, in the name of Francis Green,— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
695. FREDERICK GEORGE NEWCOMBE (47) , to forging and uttering a receipt for the payment of £1 2s. 6d; also to embezzling £10 and £1 9s. 4d., the moneys of Frederick Augustus Reville, his master.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
696. KEZIAH JOHNSON (19) , to unlawfully and maliciously writing and publishing a false and defamatory libel in the form of a postcard, addressed to James Langstone.— The prisoner had expressed regret, and undertaken not to repeat the publication of the libel.— Discharged on recognisances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 12th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
697. In the case of WILLIAM DOUGLAS AITCHESON , charged with manslaughter, the JURY, upon the evidence of Mr. George Edward Walker surgeon of Her Majesty's Prison, Holloway, and Dr. W. McKenzie Dunlop, medical officer of St. Pancras Infirmary, found the prisoner to be insane and unfit to plead. — Ordered to be detained until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
upon the evidence of Dr. Walker and A. N. Boycot, of Canehill Asylum, the JURY found him insane and unfit to plead.— A similar order was made.
699. ELLEN TROLLOPE (16) PLEADED GUILTY . to endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child.— A Fortnight without Hard Labour. The Coroner's Inquisition also charged her with murder, upon which MR. H. AVORY, for the prosecution, offered no evidence, the GRAND JURY. having ignored the bill.
For the case of Ann S. Hubberd, see Essex Cases.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 12th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ROOTH. Prosecuted, and MR. BESLEY. Defended.
WILLIAM DRURY . I am a journalist, of 56, Drury Lane—about May 24th I ordered a case of whisky, in writing, from Sanderson and Morris, of Leith—it did not arrive—I wrote to Sanderson and Morris, received a letter from them, and communicated with the police—this "W. Drury" signed to this delivery-note is not my writing.
Cross-examined. I am employed at 56, Drury Lane, in writing for the press—it is the London and County printing office—I had given a dozen orders before to Sanderson and Morris—the Leith steamers arrive at Hermitage Wharf—Collins went with me, about June 15th, to Bow Street, to give information—I had not seen him before—I was not aware that the prisoner had notice at Christmas to terminate the tenancy of the Old Drury on Midsummer day—his name was not mentioned to me, but I heard that the place was shut up—I do not know that the ordinary address of the Old Drury is "Vinegar Yard"—my name is not up there at all—I heard two or three witnesses called before Sir John Bridge but did not hear the public-house broker examined—I gave my evidence and was bound over—I did not refuse to conduct the prosecution and do not know that the Public Prosecutor declined to have anything to do with it—the value of the whisky was under £2.
ARTHUR MONK . I am foreman to Seward Brothers, of Wapping, carriers—goods from Sanderson and Morris, spirit merchants, of Leith, came into our hands, and their name is branded on every case—I saw Mr. Drury's case once when it was returned by Ward as not able to be delivered—he afterwards showed me this delivery-note signed on the 26th—we deliver for the spirit merchants—they all brand their names outside.
Cross-examined. We also deliver for Innes and Grieves, of Edinburgh, and if there had been a case from them it would have been our duty to deliver it—their name would be on it.
WILLIAM WARD . I am a carman to Seward Brothers, carriers—on May 25th a case of whisky consigned to Mr. Drury, of 56, Drury Lane, was delivered to me—I could not find No. 56, and inquired for Mr. Drury—I went to the Old Drury tap, Catherine Street, between three and four
o'clock, and saw the defendant in the private bar as a customer, with some friends, and said to him, "Does Mr. Drury live here, please?" he said, "No"—I had the case on my shoulder and I took it away in my van, and took it back to Seward Brothers, who gave me some advice, and next day I again took it to the Old Drury Tavern at 2.30 or three o'clock—I saw the prisoner drinking in the private bar, and said, "Does the name of Drury live here, please?"—he said, "What have you got?"—I said, "A case of whisky"—he said, "Where from?"—I said, "I don't know, but I can go and see, it is branded on the case"—I went out and looked, and went back and told him it was Sanderson and Morris, of Leith—he said, "Right, my name is Drury, bring it in"—I did so—he was then behind the bar—I gave it to him over the bar, and he came round to the public side, signed my sheets, "W. Drury, R.P.S.," and gave me a glass of ale and I left—I would not have delivered the case to him if he had not signed that.
Cross-examined. I have been in the habit of taking goods to Drury Line for three years, but have not delivered whisky at the London and County printing office; I do not know it—the 56 on the sheet is in pencil, but it was not there on the Friday nor on the case—I thoroughly believed it was intended for the Old Drury Tavern—I positively swear I saw the prisoner there on the Friday—it was not a woman who spoke to me on Friday—I put the case down on the bar counter on the Saturday and the prisoner lifted it down and put it behind the bar—I had made no inquiries before I went with Collins and swore my information—I did not hear the prisoner say on Saturday, "They have been such a long time sending it that I have a great mind not to take it in"—there was nothing to pay for carriage—I did not say," You must sign for it in the way the sheet is made out," nor did he ask permission to sign it in any other way—a solicitor from my employers appeared before Sir John Bridge to state that Seward Brothers would not be responsible for the prosecution.
By the COURT. When I went into the bar on the Friday I asked him if any person named Drury lived there, and he said, "No"—when I went on Saturday I recognised him as the same man, and I am sure he is.
FREDERICK COLLINS . (Detective Inspector E). This matter was put into my hands, and on June 15th, at four o'clock, I went to the Victory public-house, Newnham Street, Edgware Road, and saw the prisoner serving in the bar. (I knew him as landlord of the Old Drury Tavern, Catherine Street, which was closed on May 28th, and was coming down; he left no address when he left there, and I could not find out when he had gone, there was no one there, and the licensing inspector was unable to give me his address)—I had a warrant for his arrest on this charge which I read to him—it was for obtaining a case of whisky by false pretences and forging the receipt for the delivery—he said, "All right, sir"—we went into the back parlour, and he said, "I ordered a case of whisky, and I daresay I can find the man I ordered it of"—I said, "You signed the delivery sheet of the carman "W. Drury"—he said, "I did not; come into the bar, and I will show you the whisky"—I did so, and he showed me the twelve bottles all full—this is one of them—they were on the helves, but not all together—they bore the label of Sanderson and
Morris—he said, "These are the twelve bottle I took in"—I then took him to Bow Street, and he was charged.
Cross-examined. He spoke of it as the case of whisky which had been left on Saturday at the Old Drury—I first saw Mr. William Drury on June 14th—I inquired whether he had had any whisky from the firm at Leith, and he said he had—he did not say that when they directed to the London and County Printing Company it was all right; he said 56, Drury Lane—there was no difficulty in finding No. 56; it was not on the direction card and delivery sheet—the clerk at the Police-court wrote the information; I was in the office—William Drury's office is at 56, Drury Lane—I did not correct the clerk putting down," I live at 56, Drury Lane"—I got a description of the prisoner from Ward on Friday, the 15th—I was under the impression that the prisoner was manager of the Old Drury—Wells' name was over the door, "Licensed to sell"—I did not inquire where Mr. Wells was; the house was closed—I did not go to the brewers or to Marylebone Police-court—I had it put into the warrant that the prisoner had gone away I did not know where—he did get a protection order at Marylebone, but I did not know it at the time—Sir John Bridge ordered me to take the papers to the Public Prosecutor, and he declined to take the case up.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ALFRED FLOWER . I am a public-house broker, of 51, Bedford Row—on Friday, May 25th, I met the prisoner and his brother by appointment at ten a.m. at Spring Gardens; I was acting for him in taking the Victory public-house—he was actually in possession under an agreement from the brewers, Watney and Co., of Pimlico—I was only in his company a few minutes; I left him with his brother—I had acted as his broker for putting him into the Old Drury, Vinegar Lane, and he remained tenant there till the notice expired on June 24th, 1894, but he did not remain till then—it was a six months' notice dated December 21st, 1893; the premises were coming down for the improvement of Drury Lane Theatre—in consequence of the prisoner holding a license in the Newington division the license was put into the name of Mr. Wells, who is a traveller to Lock and Smith, the brewers, it being known that the premises would only be occupied a short time prior to destruction—I have known him eight or nine years; he has borne a very high character for honesty among all who knew him—Lock and Co.'s signboards were up at the Old Drury—the furniture was moved from the Old Drury to the Victory on Monday, the 28th—I know that police inquiries had been made—he never had possession—he opened the same day that the license was transferred, Monday, June 11th—I acted in the transfer, and for Messrs. Watney as well.
Cross-examined. I was communicated with on the same day that he was arrested—I had an appointment with him relative to his rates on Mav 25th, but he said, "I don't require you, I can don't myself"—I keep a diary, but it does not appear in it—it was on Friday, and he said I will be back at two o'clock—I went at two o'clock, and saw his wife.
WILLIAM THOMAS ATKINSON . I am in the office of Pownall and Co., solicitors—they act for Watney and Co., who own the Victory—they granted a lease to the prisoner, and the prisoner took possession on Wednesday, the 23rd—I saw him there on Friday, May 25th, about
4.30—the Victory is about two miles from Drury Lane Theatre—I left him a little after six—his brother and Mr. Wells were then with him—he came out, and I left them together in the street.
ARTHUR CARMAN . I am the prisoner's brother—I keep the Ship, Han way Court—I first saw him on 25th May, at 9.30, and went with him to Spring Gardens, and, after seeing Mr. Flower for a few minutes, we went to the Victory—Mr. Wells came there about twelve o'clock, and I did not leave before Mr. Atkinson came, which was at 4.30—I left the Victory with my brother about six p.m., and remained with him up to seven o'clock—he has been twenty years in the trade, and has held many licenses—his first license was about nine years ago.
Cross-examined. I first met him at 9.30 at the Old Drury—I am quite certain he never returned there that day—I was spoken to about it about three weeks afterwards—the only way in which I recollect the day is because it is unusual to leave my business.
Re-examined. I speak from the events of the day, and seeing Mr. Atkinson—the furniture was moved to the Victory the following Monday.
By the COURT. I had several matters of business to do with my brother—we were in consultation between twelve and 4.30, and Mr. Wells culled.
THOMAS WILLIAM WELLS . I am a traveller for Lock and Smith, brewers—my name is painted over the door—I have known the prisoner about four years, living at the Old Drury with his wife, up to the time the house was closed, Sunday night, May 27th—I knew he was going to the Victory—some of the furniture was moved on the 25th, and the last of it after the closing of the house—I arrived at the Victory about noon on the 25th—the prisoner and his brother were there, and Mr. Atkinson came in—the prisoner was busy putting the furniture in, and we left about 4.30, and returned and dined—Mr. Atkinson went some little distance with us, and then left us, and we went back to the Victory, and got there about 5.30—I may be mistaken about Mr. Atkinson leaving before six o'clock—I did not notice the time he left—I never met a more straightforward man than the prisoner—I think he is beyond reproach.
Cross-examined. I have sold him beer weekly for some two years—I was anxious to regain the trade, and I stopped longer than usual—I knew on June 16th that he was in custody on June 15th—I was there on the day he was arrested.
By the COURT. I was the licensee of the Old Drury; the prisoner asked me to become so—he kept the business—if he had applied for the license he would have been refused—I did not tell the Magistrate that I never intended to reside there—I received no commission from the prisoner, for acting thus kindly to him.
ALFRED HOLMES . I am a builder, of 39, Ellendon Street, Walworth—on Friday, May 25th, about one o'clock, I was at the Old Drury, Vinegar Yard, Drury Lane, and again about 2.30, and stopped till five—the prisoner did not come in—Ward came in, and said to Mrs. Carman that he had a case for Mr. Drury, of Drury Lane—she said, "Mr. Drury don't live here; this is the Old Drury"—I did not see the case—I did not see the prisoner there, and I was waiting to see him—I was there again on Saturday between three and four o'clock, when Ward came in and went
into the same bar as he was in on Friday, and asked for Mr. Drury, of Drury Lane—I said, "What is it?"—Mrs. Carman said, "I suppose it is a case of whisky"—the prisoner said, "I suppose it is that whisky which I ordered. I might refuse to take it in, but you can bring it in"—he brought it in, and it was put down in the public bar—the carman asked him to sign for it, and said, "You will have to sign, 'Drury'"—the prisoner said, "If you want it signed 'Drury,' I will sign it, if you have any doubt about it"—the carman did not go out and come back, and mention the name of the person sending the whisky—I saw the case, but did not notice the names on it, or see the name on the delivery sheet—he said it was for Drury, of Drury Lane, and the prisoner said, "My name is not Drury. This is the Old Drury."
Cross-examined. I am quite sure it was Mrs. Carman who said it was a case of whisky—the carman spoke to her, and she spoke to Mr. Carman.
Re-examined. I did not see the prisoner on the Friday—I went for the purpose of seeing him on Saturday, 26th—I went into Court on the 16th, and was examined on the following Saturday, the 25th—the prisoner asked me to be a witness—I was there a very long time on Friday at work, and at the Old Drury as well, painting and repairing.
LEYTON JOHN BERRY . I live at 30, Highgate Road, and am engaged in Covent Garden Market—on Saturday, May 26th, I went into the Old Drury some time after two o'clock—several people came in, and a man brought a box in which I believe he left there—I saw the prisoner there, but did not hear the conversation.
ROBERT SIMMONDS . I am traveller to Innes and Grieves, distillers and blenders—on March 23rd, 1894, I received an order from the prisoner for one dozen of Uam Var whisky, which would be forwarded to my principals from the London offices to Edinburgh for execution—it would be shipped on board a steamer at Leith, and would come on in the usual way—the order was executed, but I never informed the prisoner so.
Cross-examined. The label on the bottle would have Uam Var upon it; it would not be like the label on this bottle—the name would be on the case, but very small—the consigners' name would not be on the case, only their initials "I. and G."
The JURY. here stopped the case.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
703. ALBERT ENGLEFIELD (26) to two indictments for stealing two bills of exchange for 235 francs 5 centimes, and other sums, the property of the Credit Lyonnaise Bank, his masters; and with ALBERT WILLIAM SHORTER (25) for stealing, while employed by the Credit Lyonnaise, a bill of exchange for 360 francs, their property; and ALBERT WILLIAM SHORTER to two indictments for stealing bills of exchange for 290 francs, and other sums, of his said masters. ENGLEFIELD— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. SHORTER— Three Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 13th, 1894
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MESSRS. PURCELL. and PASSMORE. Prosecuted, and MR. MOORE. Defended.
BRIDGET REEVES . I am the wife of James Reeves, of 14, Christchurch Street, Chelsea—I have known the prisoner five years; she was a domestic servant—in October last she was delivered of an illegitimate child—about the end of November, I think the 20th, she brought the child, and left it with me to take care of—she afterwards arranged to pay 3s. 6d. a week, and the father was to pay 3s. 6d.—she used to visit the child occasionally—on the 26th July, she came and said she would take the baby—I said, "Not to-night, Kate"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "Where are you going to take it? surely you will tell me; am I not to see it any more?"—she said she was going to take it to a person she knew who had been a lunatic patient in an asylum up to that time—I gave her the child, and a parcel of clothes—that was between half-past seven and eight—I asked if she was going to give me any money—she said she had not any, but would send me some as soon as she got it; she asked if the father had sent his proportion—I said he had—she said, "Let him keep sending"—I said he would have to send for a long time to make up for the back payments—when she took the child away I had no suspicion; I wanted to know where the child had gone—I had brought it up from infancy; we were all very attached to it—I made a statement to my son, and he went to Victoria Station with her; I did not tell him to go.
Cross-examined. The father had fallen into arrears as to his payments—I have known the prisoner five years, she comes of respectable parents, her mother was in the service of Lady Hamilton—she felt very keenly the shame of her position—I suppose she was very anxious to keep it from her father and from her village; she did not say so—when she came to fetch the baby she had just left the asylum—her wages there were £18—when the father did not send I wrote and told her; he always sent the money to her at my house—for the last three months his money did not come regularly—I had no direct communication with him; I had seen him but never spoke to him—I did not threaten the prisoner that if the arrears were not paid I would send the child to her parents in Ireland; I said somebody was going home and I could send the child with her—I wrote to her mother in Ireland about it—the prisoner was very much distressed and upset when she came to me on the 26th; she cried a great deal.
JOHN REEVES . I am a son of the last witness, and live with her—on 26th July, about 7.45, I left the house with the prisoner and her child, and walked alongside of her to the Victoria Station of the Underground Railway—she took a ticket to Cannon Street—I asked her where she was going to take the child—she said she was going to leave it with a woman who had been a patient at the asylum—I saw her get into a third-class compartment with the child; I think there was more than one other person in the carriage—I could get no satisfaction from her, and I got into a van and went on to Cannon Street, and afterwards I went to the station and identified the child.
politan District Railway at Cannon Street—on 26th July I was on duty about 8.39 p.m. at Cannon Street Station—I got a hand lamp and went into the tunnel between Cannon Street and the Mansion House; I proceeded about twenty yards down the tunnel—I heard cries and saw a child lying on its side close against the side of the tunnel, and its legs raised above the single wire that ran through the tunnel—it was quite clear of the line; no passing train could have touched it—I took the child up and took it to the waiting-room of the station—it was in ordinary baby's clothes; it had no boots or socks on—it did not seem to have been hurt—I handed it over to Constable Starkie.
Cross-examined. It would have been quite possible for somebody to have walked along the tunnel and placed the child there.
STEPHEN STARKIE . City Policeman, 618). I found the child in the ladies' waiting-room—I took it to Cloak Lane Station—I found no injuries on it—I took it to the hospital, and the witness Reeves identified it.
THOMAS SMITH . I am house-surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—the child was brought there to me on the evening of July 26th—there was a bruise on the right side of the body, and some slight abrasions and bruising of the left arm; it was suffering slightly from shock—it appeared to be about nine months old—it has entirely recovered, and was quite well when it left the hospital about a week later—if a child of that age had been thrown out of the window of a train in motion I should expect to find greater marks of injury.
SIDNEY HOBSON . City Detective Sergeant). On July 28th I got a warrant from the Mansion House—I made inquiries, and found the address of the prisoner's parents in Dublin—I communicated with the Irish constabulary, and went to Blanchiston, where I saw the prisoner in custody—I said to her, "Is your name Kate Finlon?"—she said "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and I am going to take you to London, and you will be charged with attempting to murder your child by throwing or dropping it from the railway carriage on the Underground Railway between the Mansion House and Cannon Street Stations"—I read the warrant to her—she made no reply—I brought her to London.
NOT GUILTY .
The prisoner had previously PLEADED GUILTY . to occasioning bodily harm to the child.— Discharged on her own Recognisances.
MR. THORNE COLE. Prosecuted, and MR. POCOCK. Defended.
SARAH WATTS . I am a general servant at 23, Margaret Street, Marylebone—the prisoner has been my sweetheart for about four years and a half—lately we have had some quarrels—on Wednesday afternoon, 22nd August, about half-past three, I was called by my mistress, Mrs. Oddy, to open the street door—I did so, and the prisoner came in and shut the door—he took hold of one of my hands, his other hand was in his pocket—he held my neck and drew a knife out of his pocket; it was open; he tried to put it to my neck—I screamed and tried to get away from him—I struggled with him and prevented his putting the knife to my throat—
I called out for Mr. Armstrong, who carries on a business on the first floor; he came and got between us—I became insensible—I afterwards found myself in his shop, and then found I was wounded, and said, "Oh, I am stabbed"—the prisoner was there at the time—these are the stays I had on at the time—I was taken to the hospital and remained there for a short time.
Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner about seven years—he had come to the door on the Monday before this and asked me to speak to him—I said, "No, I am in a hurry"—on this day I had been out on an errand and saw him at the public-house next door to my mistress's house—he said, "As you can't stop now, will you come out afterwards and see me?"—I said, "I will see if I can"—he then walked away and I went indoors—he came to the door in about ten minutes—I saw no knife then—my mistress was at the door—she went upstairs—she is not here to-day—he put his hand on my shoulder—I don't think he asked me to make it up then; he caught hold of me by the left hand, I was going away—he said, "Don't run away, Sarah, I am not going to hurt you"—I was struggling then, trying to go indoors—it was then that Mr. Armstrong appeared—the struggle took place in the passage, with the door shut—I think I must have been struggling about ten minutes before Mr. Armstrong came—this letter is my writing. (This was addressed to the prisoner, expressed in kindly language, stating that she was in fault, and ready to keep company with him after his sentence, signing herself "Your loving and affectionate sweetheart.")—I was only an out-patient at the hospital—I have no animosity to the prisoner—I don't know that I am prepared to go on with the engagement—I feel rather frightened at present—I think I am quite well now.
Re-examined. This was not the only time he struck me.
WILLIAM ARMSTRONG . I am a tailor at 23, Margaret Street—on 22nd August, some time past three, I was in my shop—I heard a scuffle and screaming in the lobby on the ground floor—I went into the passage, and there saw the prisoner and the last witness struggling—the girl called out, and appealed to me for help—I then went between them—the prisoner had a knife in his hand, similar to the one produced—I did not see him do anything with it to the girl—he afterwards put the knife to his neck to cut himself—the girl seemed to be overcome, and went into my shop—I struggled with the prisoner—he afterwards went out, taking the knife with him—I returned to my shop and found the girl sitting on a chair, and I saw blood on her dress and hand.
Cross-examined. The girl had been a few minutes in my shop when I went back—I can't say that she fainted; she seemed overcome—I took her to the hospital—my shop is on the ground floor—there are kitchens below—I had known the girl eight or nine months as a servant.
GEORGE BROWN . (420 D). About half-past three in the afternoon on 22nd August I was on duty in Langham Place—the prisoner came up to me, and said, "Come with me to Margaret Street; I have stabbed a girl; I don't know how much I have hurt her, and I don't know what made me do it"—I went to 23, Margaret Street—on the way he handed me this knife, and said, "This is what I done it with"—I took him to 23, and afterwards to the station, where he was charged.
Cross-examined. He did not appear excited—I am positive he used the word "stabbed," not "cut."
WILFORD HUDDLESTON . I was casualty surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital—on 22nd August, about four that afternoon, the prosecutrix was brought there—her clothes were taken off, and I examined her—all her clothes were punctured through, including her stays, and stained with blood—at the outer side of the left breast there was a punctured wound, penetrating about three-quarters of an inch into the wall of the chest, about an inch and a half from the heart—this knife might certainly have produced it; it would require a fair amount of force—she is now out of danger—at first she was in danger—I dressed the wound, and she left the hospital; she was treated as an out-patient.
Cross-examined. The seriousness was not in the wound itself at the time, but in what might occur subsequently if it had not healed properly, if it had suppurated—I did not consider it necessary to keep her in the hospital—she came twice a day for about a week or more—I have not seen her since professionally—it is possible that such a wound could have been caused if she had fallen up against the knife—the cut was direct away from the heart, and with a slight upward tendency.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. on the Second Count. — Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS. Prosecuted.
MAHALA BURNETT . I am unmarried—I live with my mother at 2 Spring Row, Kentish Town—the prisoner used to live in the house, but left about two years ago—at one time I kept company with him—I shall be twenty on the 26th of next month—I ceased to keep company with him about two years ago—I have seen him since—last Friday, 7th September, about nine, I was in Camden Park Road—the prisoner came across the road to me—I asked him what he wanted—he said, "Do you know how you have upset me?"—he said no more, but threw me down, and was getting a knife to my throat—I was drawing it away with my two hands—I did not see anything in his hand; I only felt it—it cut my hand—I saw him bringing something from his pocket—with his left hand he had hold of my throat, and he had the knife in his right hand; he was getting to my throat—I screamed, and he threw me down—a young man who was on the other side with his young lady came across and picked me up—the prisoner, when he got me down, said, "I am going to murder you"—the young man held the prisoner while I went for the police—I afterwards saw the prisoner at the station in custody—he then said to me, "I will do for you yet"—he was intoxicated when he attacked me.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw you about a month ago—I met you; I had left my place—I met you in Camden Road—I was walking, and you tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "How are you getting on, how is the young man?"—I said I had given him up—I did not say, "If mother and father would do, it won't be long before we get married"—I did not say it in that manner—I had n parcel—I said "I will leave the
parcel, and I will come and walk with you"—this happened on the Friday week before—on this night you did not hold up the knife to frighten me—you did not say, "This is what you ought to have"—you held me till the young man came over.
CECIL HARRY BOW . I live at 1A, Murray Street, Camden Town—last Friday, about half-past nine at night, I was in Camden Road—I heard a quarrel on the opposite side of the road—I went across, and found the prosecutrix lying down on the ground, and the prisoner had hold of her jacket with his left hand, and he had this knife in his right hand—I rolled him over, and released the prosecutrix—she had hold of the blade of the knife, and the prisoner had hold of the handle—he threw it aside, and I afterwards picked it up, and handed it to the police—I held the prisoner as long as I could—he broke away from me—I was obliged to let him go as no one came to assist me—I afterwards saw the girl's hand cut and bleeding.
FREDERICK COBB . (Detective Sergeant Y). Last Friday night I received this table knife from the last witnesss—it had been recently sharpened by a file; it was very sharp; it is a powerful knife—about ten minutes to twelve the same night I found the prisoner at 2, Spring Row, and took him into custody, where the prosecutrix lived—she was present when I took him—I said to her, "Will you charge him?"—she said, "Yes"—I told him he was charged with occasioning her actual bodily harm by cutting her with a knife—he said, "All right, governor; I will go quietly with you"—he was certainly not drunk, but he had been drinking very heavily for the last month—I took him to the station with another constable—the prosecutrix and her brother followed—on the way we had a struggle, and he threw me—he then turned and saw the prosecutrix, and said, "You b—cow, I will do for you yet"—the charge was read over to him at the station and he was cautioned—he said, "You b—cow, I will knife you yet"—he said that frequently—he was very violent in the dock.
Cross-examined. I did not say I would make it as heavy as I could; it is not my practice to do so.
THOMAS MARSHALL . I am a divisional surgeon, of 95, Fortress Road, Kentish Town—I attended to the prosecutrix last Friday evening—she was suffering from a cut on the right hand, about an inch and a quarter, on the palm near the thumb, and a slight cut on the opposite side of the same part—it was not deep; it had divided the skin, just a little more than skin deep—it was bleeding slightly—it was not a serious wound; the appearance of it was quite consistent with what she has stated.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was the worse for drink; I do not remember anything at all about it."
Prisoner's defence. I did not do it with the intention to do her any harm, it was simply to frighten her. I never attempted to cut her throat; all at once I lost my senses, with the drink. She clasped the knife and cut herself very slightly; the knife had not been sharpened. She turned out very sharp, after saying she loved every hair of my head.
GUILTY. of Unlawful Wounding. — Two Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 13th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. HORACE AVORY. Prosecuted.
GEORGE SURTELL . I am an inspector of the Mineral Water Bottle Exchange Company, which was formed for the purpose of restoring bottles to mineral water manufacturers—if bottles get into wrong hands they are sent to the Exchange, sorted out and sent back to the original owners—on 29th July I found the prisoner standing with a barrow, on which was gingerbeer, in Acorn Street, Bishopsgate—I bought from him these two bottles of gingerbeer, each bearing the trade mark of R. White—I called the prisoner's attention to the trade mark—he said, "I make my own gingerbeer. I have brought bottles to the Exchange. I am also a dealer"—I examined the rest of the stuff on his barrow and found about seven dozen of gingerbeer, four dozen bearing the trade mark of R. White, and the remainder bearing the names of other well-known makers—two days afterwards I went to 58, Wentworth Street, a private house where the prisoner lives in one room—I saw a tub in the back yard and about ten dozen empty bottles, all bearing the names of different makers—I heard the prisoner before the Magistrate claim to be tried by a jury.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I told the man with me to give you the money, and he gave you 2d.
HENRY CLEMENTS . I am a foreman to R. White and Sons, Limited, of Camberwell, one of the principal mineral water manufacturers in London—I produce the certificate of registration of their trade mark, "R. White," which appears on these bottles—I was with Surtell on 29th July when these two bottles were bought—they are White and Sons property; they are never sold—I have not examined the gingerbeer in the bottles, but by the way the bottles are corked I can tell they were not filled by White and Sons—these two bottles came from the prisoner's barrow—another man was standing there with a barrow at the same time; I purchased six bottles of him, and proceedings were also taken against him.
The prisoners statement before the Magistrate: "I wish Mr. White would protect his bottles a little better; I clean them for him and use them, and save them from being destroyed."
The prisoner in his defence stated that Messrs. White would not receive back their bottles if they were greasy; that he bought old stuff, and when he had enough of these bottles he sent them back.
GUILTY .— Discharged on recognisances.
709. SARAH PLANT (29), ANDREW AANONSON (42), and ALICE AANONSON (39) , Stealing sixty-one pieces of lace and twenty yards of lace, the property of G. L. Davis and Co., Limited, the masters of Plant. Other Counts, for receiving the same. PLANT PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HARDY. Prosecuted; MR. PAUL TAYLOR. Defended Andrew and Alice Aanonson.
JOHN WISE . (Detective Sergeant, City). I watched 72, Fore Street, the premises of Messrs. Davis and Co.—on 4th August I saw Plant leave on three occasions and go to Aanonson's shop—on the third occasion, entering the premises with other officers, Sargent and Picker, we went into Aanonson's back parlour, where Mrs. Aanonson was measuring out this lace—I said, "I am a police officer," and asked them to account for how they got it, and cautioned them that anything they might say I might have to use in evidence against them—Mrs. Aanonson said to Plant, "I have been deceived"—she said she had paid Plant £1 2s. 6d., £1 3s., £1 2s., and £1 Is.—Mr. Aanonson was in the shop—I sent Sargent to look after him—I afterwards called him in, and he said he knew nothing about what his wife was doing—I told them I should take them into custody—they were taken to the station—I searched the house—I found sixty-one pieces of lace in the inside room, covered with a tablecloth—some was in an iron box, and some in an ordinary drawer of a chest of drawers; the drawer was out of the chest—the Aanonsons keep a dairy and provision shop—Mrs. Aanonson gave me a private address at Stepney, and told me she had a little more there, and that if I saw her sister I should find it—I went there, and found several small pieces of lace and a box of remnants—I had been watching this shop for about three weeks—I saw Plant go in every day.
Cross-examined. Plant cooked for the girls employed by Davis and Co., and she went to this shop every day to buy provisions, which she brought away—I have been in the force sixteen or seventeen years, and I have known the Aanonsons very nearly the whole of that time, with the exception of five years, when I was absent—I am attached to Moor Lane Policestation—they have carried on business as provision dealers in the immediate neighbourhood of Moor Lane—I have no cause to think that they bear other than the character of perfectly respectable people, against whom no suggestion could be made—when I went into the room Mrs. Aanonson was unrolling the lace to see how long it was; the greater part of it was still in the bundle—on the table there was another piece of lace about six yards long in a yellow piece of paper—nothing was said as to when that was brought in; I did not see Plant bring it in that morning—the first thing Mrs. Aanonson did on my telling her the facts was to turn to Plant, and say, "You have deceived me, Mrs. Plant"—Plant said nothing—all the rest of the lace I found in the back room of the shop I should not describe as small pieces or remnants—Mrs. Aanonson volunteered the information where I should find the things at the private address, and she said her sister would point them out—through their old premises coming down the Aanonsons had lately moved to Milton Street, and having no living accommodation there, they were staying with their parents—at the station Mrs. Aanonson turned to Plant, and accused her of deceiving her; Plant said nothing—Mr. Aanonson said he did not know what his wife had been doing—I saw some of their children at Stepney—I could not say if they were wearing pinafores made of this lace.
Re-examined. I found these full pieces, which have never been opened, in a drawer standing on a form covered with a tablecloth, as it is now—these remnants were found at Stepney—these pieces have been unwound from the original cards and put on fresh cards.
WILLIAM SARGENT . (Detective, City). On 4th August I received a communication from Wise, and went into 76, Milton Street, and asked for a bottle of gingerbeer—as Mrs. Aanonson was serving me Plant came in—Mrs. Aanonson said, "All right, Mrs. Plant, go through to the back; I will see to you in a moment"—she served me with the gingerbeer, and went through to the back, and while I was drinking the gingerbeer I heard Mrs. Aanonson say, "This is insertion"—Plant said, "That will be 2s. 6d."—I drank the gingerbeer, went out, and communicated with Wise—I have heard what he said as to what happened afterwards—I agree with his evidence.
Cross-examined. This is the first I have known of the Aanonsons—I have only been in the Moor Lane district about a month.
GEORGE LIGHT . I am managing director of Messrs. Davis and Co., 72, Fore Street—since January I had been missing goods belonging to the company—I communicated with the police—on 4th August I was with Wise—I saw Plant leave the premises—she did the cleaning of our premises, and cooked for our factory girls, and ran out and got provisions for them—the girls pay for their own provisions—Wise followed her; I went back to my premises—I next saw Plant at the station—this piece of insertion embroidery is worth about £1—there are 19 3/4 yards—we paid 11d. per yard—it and these other things are the property of our company—we do not sell this lace in the piece; we use it for making-up purposes—the value of the sixty-one pieces of lace which the Aanonsons are charged with receiving would be, roughly speaking, over £20—some of the lengths are shorter now than when they left our premises—I have missed considerably more than I see here.
Cross-examined. Plant went every day to the shop to supply my employes with provisions—she has been in my service between twelve and eighteen months—I began to suspect her about two months before her arrest—I have a forewoman named Crocker; she would be the head of her department—anyone in the place would have access to the laces—the insertion embroidery on the table is of the value of 11d. per yard—we never have remnants of embroideries; they are used up altogether, or probably within half a yard—if I sold remnants, I should sell a number of them together.
GEORGE HUGHES CHING . I am a feather dyer—Mr. and Mrs. Aanonson employed me off and on for just over three weeks to do carpentering work at 76, Milton Street—they went into there about the beginning of August within about a week of this occurrence—I knew them at 20, Moor Lane—I have seen Plant go there with a bag, which she used in going er errands—once I saw her with a parcel, which she passed over the counter to Mrs. Aanonson—when they removed to 76, Milton Street, I carried this drawer and tin box, with these goods, across in open daylight—Mrs. Aanonson told me that Plant had the privilege of selling these remnants that were left over, and she was buying them, as she thought they were cheap, and that she would do herself good by selling them again.
Cross-examined. She told me the price some time ago; I forget it—I told
her I thought she was paying too much—I bought two pieces of lace from her for 1s. 8 1/2 d., and sold them for 3s.—the lace was kept openly in the room adjoining the shop—I may have spoken casually to Mr. Aanonson about the lace—I have known Mrs. Aanonson about twenty-three years, Mr. Aanonson about three or four years—they were engaged respectably in business, and were honest and hard-working people—I have seen Mrs. Aanonson selling lace half-a-dozen or a dozen times over the counter in a perfectly open manner, and that is how the pieces I bought were sold.
Re-examined. It was a general provision and dairy shop.
Cross-examined. I have known Mr. and Mrs. Aanonson for about five or six years—I agree with Wise that they bear the character among the City police of perfectly respectable trades people—they have always carried on business in the immediate neighbourhood of Moor Lane Police-station—I heard Mrs. Aanonson accuse Plant of having deceived her; Plant made no reply.
Mr. and Mrs. Aanonson received good characters.— NOT GUILTY , PLANT— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GREENFIELD. Prosecuted.
THOMAS OWEN . I am foreman lighterman to Sir William Arroll, and live at Elizabeth Street, Horselydown—on 24th July, between six and seven, my daughter spoke to me, and called my attention to the prisoner in a boat—I put on my coat, and went out to find him—I called a police-man, and we went after him and stopped him—he was towing the timber behind his boat—I asked him where he was going with the timber, and what he was doing with it—he said he was going to take it in there, pointing to Cherry Gardens—I asked him where he got it from—he said he picked it up adrift—I said that was not so as I knew better than that, and I should charge him with stealing it—I should say I had seen that timber safely fastened alongside the Tower of London half an hour before.
ANNIE OWEN . I live at 55, Elizabeth Street, Horselydown—on 24th July, between six and seven, I was on the Tower Bridge, and I saw the prisoner in a boat—he got out of the boat on to the wood, and tied it to the wood, and cut the pieces adrift—I went to my father and made a communication to him.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I looked over the Tower Bridge.
HENRY GREEN . (Inspector Thames Police). Mr. Owen said something to me, and in consequence I and he went down to the river and saw the prisoner in his boat towing some timber in towards the Cherry Garden Pier—I asked him where he got it from; he said he found it adrift driving by the Irongate stairs—I said, "Where are you going to take it to?"—he made no answer—the prosecutor said his daughter had told him that she saw the prisoner on the timber cutting it adrift; he denied that—this knife was on him—the rope on the timber looked as if it had been recently cut short off at the staple.
Cross-examined. You were in a boat alongside the timber.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he saw the timber drifting in the river, and was taking it in tow to the condemned hole.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HENDERSON. Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL. Defended GLOVER.
GUILTY .—GLOVER— Three Months' Hard Labour. MOTE— Fourteen Days' Hard Labour.
712. CHARLES WAKELING (40) and PATRICK BRYAN (50) , Unlawfully attempting to commit burglary at the dwelling-house of John Uzzaloy with intent to steal therein;another Count charged Bryan with assaulting Albert Sangster, a constable, in the execution of his duty.
MR. O'CONNOR. Prosecuted.
HENRY KUNZ . I am a waiter at 37 and 38, Bedford Place, a boarding-house kept by Fanny Uzzaloy—about four a.m on 31st July I was called up by a constable, and went to the station to see the prisoner—the night before when I went to bed the house was locked up—the front door was locked—at four next morning the door was in the same condition—the police made a communication to me, and ultimately I charged the prisoners with attempting to break in the house.
ANDREW SANGSTER . (172 E). About a quarter-past three a.m. on 31st July I was on duty in Bedford Place—I saw the prisoners going into several doorways; they went into the doorway of No. 38—I walked up to within six or seven yards of them—I saw Wakeling working with a key in the door—Bryan saw me, and turned and said, "All right, Jack, I have got my pipe alight now"—I followed the prisoners round the square, till I saw another constable coming along—I arrested them, and said to Wakeling, "Do you live at 38, Bedford Place?"—he said, "No"—I said, "What were you doing with the key in the door?"—he said, "This is a d—nice thing"—he pulled some keys from his pocket and threw them away; this skeleton key dropped to the ground—they rushed me against the lamp-post; Bryan kicked me on the leg—I was thrown to the ground; they got away—I arrested Wakeling about 150 yards away—I afterwards found this key on the ground—I took him to the station and charged him—I found on him a candle, a box of matches, a key, a book, a piece of pencil, and a pair of spectacles—about 8.30 I was called to identify Bryan, and I picked him out from six or seven others—he said nothing in reply to the charge—I am sure he is the man who got away when I arrested Wakeling—I looked for other keys afterwards, but could not find them.
Cross-examined by Wakeling. I was not more than one door away from you when you were at the door—you were working the key in the door, and Bryan was standing looking on—your back was towards me—I could see you plainly—there are railings in front of the house six or seven and a half feet high—I saw you working the key in the door—I let you go, from the door because I could not hold you both—I arrested you in Bloomsbury Square—I saw you throw some keys away; I have looked, but cannot find them—you threw me down and ran 150 yards before I
caught you—I blew my whistle once or twice before the other constable came to my assistance—he turned through Vernon Place.
Cross-examined by Bryan. You came straight along—I stopped six or seven yards from you when you were at the door—I afterwards picked up the key at the place where Wakeling had dropped it—the other constable was only twenty yards off when we were struggling on the ground—that was about a minute from the time I first stopped you—you went away into Southampton Street to the right—the policeman came from Vernon Place, on the left, round the corner—I saw him coming along, but he entered Vernon Place instead of coming straight along—when I was knocked against the lamp-post my helmet was knocked over my eyes, and I could not blow my whistle for some time.
Re-examined. I kept the prisoners in view till the other policeman appeared in sight—both prisoners were concerned in rushing me against the lamp-post.
WILLIAM SWAIN . (134 E). About three a.m. on July 31st I was in Bloomsbury Square—I saw both prisoners loitering about the top of Bedford Place, and kept them under observation for some time—I then lost sight of them—there were several cabs passing at the time—I went round the south side of the square to Vernon Place—I heard a police whistle, and ran to the square, and found Sangster struggling with Wakeling—I helped to secure him—we took him down the square—Sangster said, "This is the place where he threw away the keys"—we picked up this key—I assisted to take him to the station.
Cross-examined by Wakeling.—I saw you at the south end of Bloomsbury Square—I lost sight of you at the junction of Bedford Place with Bloomsbury Square—it was dark; you were thirty yards off—I lost you for five or ten minutes, perhaps—I went round the enclosure—I don't know which way you went—I could not find you till you were being secured by the policeman.
Cross-examined by Bryan. I was on the opposite side of the square to you—I lost sight of you when some cabs passed; it was dark—I could recognise you both—I identified you from among other persons, after Sangster had done so—I was in Vernon Place when I heard the whistle—I did not see anyone running away—I heard the whistle twice—I came to the assistance of the other officer, and found him struggling with Wakeling—it was two minutes, perhaps, from the time the whistle was blown till I came up to Sangster.
RICHARD GOSS . (291 E). Early on the morning of 31st July I received a description of Bryan—I found him at 19, Cranmore Buildings, Fox Court, Holborn—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned with Wakeling in attempted burglary and assault on the police—he said, "All right"—on the way to the station he said, "I was with Wakeling all day yesterday, but I know nothing about this affair"—at the station he made no reply to the charge—Sangster identified him at the station—I found on him two pieces of candle and a box of silent matches.
Cross-examined by Bryan. You did not say anything to me about having been attending a summons at the Police-station all day, and not having seen Wakeling since six o'clock yesterday evening.
MRS. OLIVER. You were at home at eight o'clock on this Monday night; you went to bed, and ware in there from that time till you were apprehended in the morning.
Cross-examined. Bryan was in bed at ten o'clock, and never stirred out of the room till two policemen took him next morning—I am his sister, and sleep in the same room.
Wakeling, in his defence, stated that the key found belonged to a w.c. at 33, Evelyn Buildings, Baldwin Gardens, and that he had no intention of committing a burglary.
Bryan denied having been in Wakeling's company on that night.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. B. A. SMITH. Prosecuted, and MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS.
The prisoners received good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Friday and Saturday, September 14th and 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
714. WALTER HILL and ELLEN WINDRAM , Unlawfully conspiring to induce Louisa Smart to commit adultery with the said Walter Hill. Other Counts against Hill for indecently assaulting the said Louisa Smart and Mina Wakefield, and against Windram for aiding and assisting.
MESSRS. BESLEY. and MUIR. Prosecuted; MR. SANDS. appeared for Hill; and MR. BURNIE. for Windram.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, September 14th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
715. HARRY CLARKE (30), and WILLIAM PARKHURST PLEADED GUILTY to uttering forged receipts for the payment of money; also to embezzling and to conspiring to embezzle divers sums of money received for and on account of James Carus Pearson, their master. Clarke also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in June, 1893, in the name of Henry Potter. The Prosecutor did not wish to press the case against Parkhurst, but was inclined to give him a further trial. CLARKE— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. PARKHURST— Four Months' Hard Labour.
ALEXANDER JOSEPH (42), and GEORGE CHARLES FRUHLING (45), Unlawfully conspiring by false pretences to cheat and defraud Frederick Tunbridge and other persons. Other Counts, for obtaining goods by false pretences from the same persons, and charging Joseph with receiving goods obtained by false pretences, he knowing they had been so obtained.
MESSRS. BODKIN. and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS. Prosecuted; MR. HARRISON appeared for William Trautz; MR. DRAKE. for Emile Trautz; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN. and CLARKE HALL. for Joseph; and MR. SLADE BUTLER. for Fruhling.
JEFFREY MALLINGS . I trade with a partner at 26, Francis Street, Woolwich, as a tennis racquet manufacturer—I received this letter of 9th April, 1894, from Webster and Krall, of 12, John Street, Minories. (Stating that they had a colonial inquiry for twelve dozen cricket balls, and asking for twelve or six balls as samples, and a list of prices and terms)—we sent a general price list of the things in which we deal—on 16th April I got this letter from the same persons. (Stating that they should be pleased to send out a few samples of ash racquet bats)—we sent samples amounting to 25s. with this invoice on 24th April—on 8th May I received this letter. (Acknowledging the three sample racquet bats and the invoice, and stating that the racquets had been sent to their customers, who wanted two dozen sent by way of trial, and that it was likely to lead to more important business)—we sent the racquets; they came to £9 9s. 3d.—Cross afterwards showed me these racquets, and I identified them as the goods I supplied—we pack them like this specially for a colonial order—I believed when I parted with the goods that there was a genuine firm of Webster and Krall, at 12, John Street, Minories, and that they wanted the goods for a colonial firm in the ordinary way of business—I have never been paid.
CHARLES EDWARD CROSTHWAITE . I am a carman to Carter, Paterson and Co.—this delivery sheet of 16th May, 1894, contains the entry of a case to be delivered to Webster and Krall, of 12, John Street, Minories—I delivered the goods there, and to Emile Trautz to the best of my belief—the person to whom I delivered them signed the sheet "J. Peek" and paid me.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I said at the Police-court, I thought Emile Trautz was the man, but I would not be sure—I deliver a great many parcels.
JESSIE BELL . I live at 12, John Street, Minories, with my mother—we live upstairs, and I am employed in a shop below—Webster and Krall had an office there in April and May, as far as I remember—Webster and Krall were Emile Trautz and Fruhling; they were there from day to day—they occupied the first floor back room—I never saw into that room—after they had gone inquiries were made for them, not while they were there—I don't recognise any of the other prisoners as going to that room—I had no conversation with them—they left word with someone else in the house, where they were going to—while they were there a good many
letters arrived by post—on one occasion I gave Emile Trautz the letters as he entered the street door—he had the key of the premises.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. Trautz came first in the morning, usually between nine and ten—I did not always take the letters in; only once.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I never spoke to Fruhling.
Re-examined. I met Emile Trautz and Fruhling on several occasions in the morning—I am quite certain they are the men.
WILLIAM CROSS . (Detective Inspector, City). In August I went to 5A, Stoney Lane, which was occupied by Joseph—I found there this and another case of racquets, and some separate ones, fifteen altogether.
TOM TURNER . I am a manfacturer and merchant of Watford—among other things I deal in cricket stumps, croquet and chess sets, and all sorts of games—on 13th June I received this letter from William Francks and Co., 142, Fleet Street. (Stating that they had a colonial order for a dozen sets of croquet, and asking for samples, prices, and terms)—I sent samples on 14th June—on 15th June I received this letter. (Acknowledging letter and catalogue, and asking for samples of various sorts before placing the order)—we then sent other goods from our mills at Watford—I was in communication with our London agent, Mr. Clapham, about the matter—on 18th July I received this letter. (Stating that Francks and Co. had a colonial inquiry for a gross of cricket bats, and asking for samples to be sent)—I sent other goods which were ordered through Clapham—I sent the goods, believing there was a colonial order which Francks and Co. had received, and that they had a genuine business, and wanted the goods in the ordinary way of trade—this is a copy of the account I sent—I have never been paid.
ALEXANDER CLAPHAM . I live at 7, Egbert Street, Regent's Park, and I am the London agent of Messrs. Turner and Co., of Cassiobury Mills—this letter from Francks was forwarded to me from Watford, and I went to 142, Fleet Street—I there saw Fruhling, who was trading as Francks and Co.—"Francks and Co." was up on the partition on the second floor—he paid they were doing a colonial trade, and would like a few sample's of croquet sets, but they could not give me the order then; they would forward a sample order on, and, no doubt, the order would come in a day or two—I asked him to give me the order, as I was calling there daily—I called and saw him again about 20th June—he said he would forward me a stock order on—I took sample cricket stumps with me then, and showed them, and introduced them as saleable goods for the colonial trade—when I got home that day I found this letter from Francks and Co. (Ordering nine croquet sets at the catalogue price, less 15 per cent.)—I forwarded the order to Watford for execution—about 2nd July I went again to 142, Fleet Street, and saw Emile Trautz, who I thought was a porter—he said Fruhling would be there; about ten o'clock—Fruhling came at that time—he said he had a sister in Melbourne; that the samples had gone out with the croquet sets, and no doubt we should do a very good business with him—he said the principal business they did was colonial—when I got back that day I found this letter from Francks and Co. (Ordering two dozen each of a number of sets of cricket stumps as per catalogue)—I for warded that order to Watford, where it was executed—about 16th July
I called at 142, Fleet Street, and saw Fruhling—I introduced sets of chess and draughts to him, and he left it to me to send him samples that I thought suitable for the market—I sent to Watford for samples to be forwarded to him—I have since been about twenty times to 142, Fleet Street, for the account, but I have never since seen Fruhling or Emile Trautz—I have not received payment for any of the goods—this box of croquet is one of the Cassiobury sets; it is our label—these stumps, chess, and draughts are our goods—when I forwarded these orders to Watford I believed there was a genuine firm carrying on a colonial trade at 142, Fleet Street, in the name of Francks and Co.—I have never been paid for any of these goods.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I have been about thirty times to 142, Fleet Street—I only saw Emile Trautz once—he did not enter into any negotiations with, or give orders to, me there, or take any part in ordering goods, to my knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I have never seen Fruhling write—when I went on 16th July it was not in consequence of anything Fruhling had said to me; I went on my own account to try and get an order for chess and draughts.
STEPHEN SEARS . I am a carman in Mr. Turner's employment—on 15th June I delivered three boxes to W. Francks and Co., 142, Fleet Street, and got this receipt, which Emile Trautz signed—these are three other receipts for three other sets of goods which I delivered on 6th, 9th, and 20th July—I do not know who signed those, but Emile Trautz was there when they were signed—I saw him on each occasion when I delivered goods.
HENRY CLARK . I am assistant to Barker, a pawnbroker, at 91, Houndsditch—I produce a pawnticket for a croquet set and box pawned on 18th June, 1894, in the name of Singer by Emile Trautz—this is the duplicate—I knew him before as pledging things.
JOSEPH BRITON . I am a clerk to Mr. Jackson, the landlord of 13, Sweet Street, Plaistow—Emile Trautz, whom I knew as Emile Schmidt, was the tenant of that house—I do not remember anyone named Ann Smith living there—he was a weekly tenant at 8s. a week.
WILLIAM CROSS . Re-examined). I searched Emile Trautz's address at 15, Goodall Road, Leyton, in August, and I found this pawnticket, the duplicate of the one produced by Mr. Brown—it is for a set of chess and draughts pledged for 3s.—I searched 5A, Stoney Lane, on 9th August, and found twenty-three sets of cricket stumps, of which these are part.
FREDERICK TUNBRIDGE . I trade as Tunbridge and Wright, of Reading—I manufacture fly-papers known as fly cemeteries—on 5th July I received this letter on a printed form of William Francks and Co., 142, Fleet Street, (Stating that they wished to place an order to place an order for fly-papers, and asking for samples with prices)—I sent some samples and received thin letter of 7th July. (Ordering 100 gross, and stating that they were likely to be regular customers)—I executed that order, and sent 100
gross by the South Western Railway—just after sending them off I received this telegram, and on the same day I sent off another 100 grass—I parted with those goods, believing it was a genuine firm, at 112, Fleet Street, trading as Francks and Co.—the value of the 200 gross was about £60—I have not been paid any portion of that sum—on 18th July I heard something from Messrs. Fordham and Co., of York Road, King's Cross, and came to London, and went to 142, Fleet Street—I saw the name of Francks and Co. up there—I went to the room on the second floor, but the door was locked, and no one was there, and I could not get in—I then went to 5A, Stoney Lane, an address I received from Messrs. Fordham—I found that was a shut-up shop with no name over it—on the door was a paper, "When away inquire at Mr. Cohen's, opposite"—I went to Mr. Cohen, a shoemaker opposite—I did not see any of the prisoners there—on 21st July I received this memorandum in French purporting to come from Louis Bertrand—I did not supply any goods in consequence of that—I received a communication from Messrs. Littlewood, oilmen, of King's Cross—this is one of my boxes containing fly-papers of my manufacture—I knew Messrs. Fordham and Messrs. Walton, Hassell and Port as customers before.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I do not subscribe to Stubbs, Perry, or Kemp—I sent these goods without making any inquiry, simply on the strength of a paper with a printed heading—I took it as a good firm—thousands of my fly-papers have been in circulation—I do not always get paid—I do not know Masters; I have heard of him since this case—I have heard that he has been selling some of my fly-papers—Walton and Company have been buying fly-papers from me; I do not know that they have bought them from Masters—these papers were sold by me at one time; I cannot say whether they are part of the parcel I sent to Francks and Co—I make a charge against Joseph now—I said before I did not, but I was rather under a false impression then.
RAPHAEL VACNOLINI . I am an interpreter—I interpret this memorandum from Louis Betrand to Tunbridge and Wright as follows: "Sir,—One of my colonial correspondents wishes for 100 gross of flypapers at 6s. per gross. I understand that you are a manufacturer of the same. Will you please to send me 100 gross at once, in order that the season may not be lost, in four cases of twenty-five gross each. Yours truly, LOUIS BERTRAND.—the heading is Louis Bertrand, dealer in musical instruments, etc., 58, Warren Street, W.C.
WILLIAM WICKHAM HIRAM . I am in the Accountant-General's Office of the General Post Office—I produce an original telegraph form, dated the 11th July, handed in at the Fleet Street office, and addressed to Tunbridge, 32, Castle Street, Reading: "Send to-day without fail additional 100 gross. Ship sailing.—FRANCKS. "
ALBERT HERBERT CABLING . I am a carman in the employment of the London and South-Western Railway—on 10th July, I delivered the three cases of goods on this delivery sheet to Franck and Co., 142, Fleet Street, to Fruhling, who signed the sheet "W. Alexander, for W. Francks and Co.," in my presence—I took the cases upstairs to an office.
sheet, on 12th July—I saw Fruhling—he wanted to sign the sheet in pencil in the passage—I objected to the pencil, and he signed it in the office upstairs in ink in the name of William Francks and Co.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I did not see him sign—I followed him upstairs to the door of the office—he took the sheet in, and brought it back signed.
HENRY COLE . I am the licensee of the Kings and Keys, 142, Fleet Street—I let out the upper part of the house—on 23rd May Emile Trautz came, giving me the name of William Franck, and took the second floor back room at £26 a year—I asked him for references—he wrote me this letter dated 23rd May. (Stating that he was willing to take the room at £26 a year, and giving as references Webster and Krall, 12, John Street, Minories, and G. C. Fruhling, 12, Camden Gardens)—I wrote to those references, and received these replies. (The reply from G. C. Fruhling stated that he had known Mr. Francks intimately for many years, that he was a very respectable man, a native of Baden, and a dealer in jewellery, requiring a small office in London, and that he was a responsible person for the rent named. The reply from Webster and Krall stated that they had known William Francks for a number of years as a highly respectable man, whom they could confidently recommend as a tenant, and that he was a dealer in jewellery)—I entered into this agreement with him of 23rd May—within a few days he entered into occupation—the name of Francks and Co. was put up over the door—I have seen Fruhling at that office several times, sitting at the table writing, apparently as a clerk—my tenant had the key.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. I never saw William Trautz about there.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I occasionally saw Emile Trautz there, but I was very seldom there myself.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I saw Fruhling there four or five times—I took him for a clerk.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I never saw Joseph there.
JAMES CLARK . I am clerk to Mr. Bartlett, solicitor, of 36, Bush Lane, who acts for the owners of 58, Warren Street—this is an agreement, dated 11th April, 1894, between the owners of that house and Henry Schumann—I recognise Fruhling as Schumann—I did not see him sign the agreement—he told me he wanted the house for the purpose of his profession, and that he was a professor of languages—this is a letter written to us by Henry Schumann prior to the taking of the house under the agreement.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. We had several of these letters—I did not see them signed.
WILLIAM BENNETT FORDHAM . I am one of the managing directors of W. B. Fordham and Sons, Limited, general merchants and manufacturers, of King's Cross—about 6th, 7th, or 8th July a man called upon me with reference to selling me fly-papers, and handed me a printed memorandum form—that man is not here—after that a man who, to the best of my belief, is Joseph, called and gave me this card, "General Merchandise Consignment Agency, 5A, Stoney Lane," and offered me fifty gross of fly-cemeteries for sale—I said it was rather remarkable, because it was the second lot that had been offered to me lately, and I began to be suspicious,
but I would buy them after writing to Tunbridge and Wright, if they had no objection—he said that was good enough; he had been at his present address for many years, and was quite willing to have investigation—I wrote to Tunbridge and Wright immediately—I think I said I would write to him for the goods if it was all right—I did not see him again—I am not positive it was Joseph I saw; I see so many people that I cannot positively identify him.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Masters was the first man who called upon me—he gave me his printed bill-heading, which described him as a commission agent—he gave me a quotation for the fly-papers, and told me his principal had about 100 gross—he had missed the ship—I bought them in the legitimate way of business—he asked me the same price as we pay the manufacturers—in case the deal came off I was to write to Joseph and tell him—I did not write.
Re-examined. Masters sold for his principal, who invoiced them—I did not pay him all he asked—Joseph asked about the same price—Masters said his principal had ordered 100 gross and had lost ship, and that it was a very bad season, which was perfectly true—I said, "These things will be here next season, and will be deteriorated; you will have to make a sacrifice"—there was no discussion with Joseph about losing the ship or anything of the sort—I had not had any previous transaction with Masters.
FRANCIS LE MAISTRE . I am called Masters—I am a stock and job buyer and a commission agent at 23, Grosvenor Road, Highbury—I know William and Emile Trautz and Fruhling—the fourth prisoner I do not seem to recognise from here, but I believe he is Joseph—Fruhling I have known for many years—at the beginning of July I saw Emile Trautz at Ludgate Hill; he asked me to sell fifteen croquet sets for him; this is the invoice in reference to them—I sold them to Mr. Piggott for £9 7s. 6d.; he paid me by cheque, which I cashed at the bank, and I handed the money to Trautz—he paid my commission, about 10s.—I tried to sell them for about a week, and I believe someone else tried to sell them; they were out of date, and I could not get an offer for them, till at last I sold them to Mr. Piggott—I had no communication with Joseph about them—afterwards I saw Emile Trautz again, and sold some fly cemeteries for him—I sold some to Messrs. Fordham, of King's Cross—after seeing Mr. Fordham first of all I went back to Trautz by appointment, and told him I had an offer of 4s., less 5 per cent off—Trautz went with me to Fordham's in the afternoon to deliver them—£18 odd was paid to Trautz by cheque, and 100 gross delivered—Trautz took this invoice with him; I saw him sign the name "W. Richardson" when he receipted it—I did not know him by that name—I have only known William Trautz by seeing him with his brother—I never went to 142, Fleet Street; I did not know they had a place there—I saw William with his brother in Aldersgate Street and on Ludgate Hill, on both occasions in the street—I have known Fruhling twenty years—I called once at 12, John Street, Minories—I knew him as Fruhling—I don't know if he went by that name at 12, John Street; the name of the firm I called on there was Webster and Krall—I called there to see Trautz, and I saw him on the first floor back—I have not the slightest idea what he was there.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. I never spoke to William Trautz upon business matters.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. The sale of the fly-papers to Mr. Fordham took place through me—I saw Mr. Fordham himself—I saw the cheque paid to Trautz, and I saw him sign a document; I don't know what it was.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I never saw Fruhling at 142, Fleet Street—I believe I saw him outside 12, John Street, once.
CHARLES WILLIAM LITTLEWOOD . I am a member of the firm of Littlewood Brothers, Acton Street, Kingston, oil and colour, merchants—on 18th July Fruhling called upon me, and said he was a French interpreter, and that he knew two Frenchmen who had bought fly-papers for the French trade, and had missed the marker and wished to dispose of them, and that, as they could not speak English, they had applied to him to dispose of them for them, and that he had fifty gross to sell for them—he asked me 4s. 6d. at first, but, as I hesitated, he came down to 3s. 6d., and 5 per cent, discount for cash—I thought I had better communicate with the makers—I told him he had better bring up five gross as a sample, and he promised to bring them in the afternoon—he gave me this card, "G. C. Fruhling, Translation Offices, Camden Gardens"—he did not come back in the afternoon—next day I got from him this postcard. (This, dated from 58, Warren Street, 18th July, stated that he had not been able to see his friends in time that day, but that, he would call at eleven to-morrow with this sample)—he did not call—I had not mentioned to him that I was going to communicate with Tun-bridge and Wright—I remarked that the price was very low, as we usually pay 6s. for them, and I asked if anything was wrong with them; he said, no, they are this season's goods—I followed him down the street that day—he met, just outside, someone whom I believe was William Trautz—I telegraphed to Tunbridge and Wright immediately he left.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. I am not sure whom Fruhling met outside my place—I think it was William Trautz—I heard Emile say before the Magistrate, "It was not my brother, it was I who was there."
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. Fruhling gave me his card with his name and address—a large number of these fly-papers are sold—I don't know if the market is flooded with them.
GEORGE USHER . I am manager to Messrs. Walton, Hassell and Port, grocers and oilmen, at Spring Place, Kentish Town—on 10th July Fruhling called and said he was a commission agent, and had got a parcel of fly-papers which had been delivered too late for shipment and were thrown on their hands, and they wanted to dispose of them cheap—he left his name and address on this slip of paper, "G. C. Fruhling, 58, Warren Street"—I talked the matter over with my principals, and decided to buy a week or ten days later, and I wrote this postcard to Fruhling on 16th July. (Stating that, re fly cemeteries which he offered at 3s. 6d. less 5 percent., if they were Tunbridge and Wright's make and in good condition, he could send five or ten gross as a sample)—next day Fruhling brought five gross—I found they were all right, and gave a further order for forty-five gross—he came with them in the afternoon, and was paid £8 6s. 5d.—
this is the receipt he gave—I got a postcard from him on 19th July, offering fifty gross more—we did not buy those.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I do not know Masters—no one else has sold us fly-papers except Tunbridge and Wright—I do not know of any other person calling on us to sell them—we have several branches in London, but our managers in charge of those shops are not allowed to buy goods; all the buying is done at the head office in Spring Gardens.
ROBERT REID . I am a member of the firm of Henry Reid and Son, towel manufacturers at Dunfermline—on 11th July I received this letter from William Francks and Co., 142, Fleet Street. (Stating that they had an Australian inquiry for an assortment of linen towels, and asking for samples and terms to be sent)—we replied with samples—we got this order of 12th July from them. (Stating that the samples would suit their market, and requesting six dozen of each of the numbers named to be sent, and expecting that a large business would result)—I executed that order, sending the goods by the Great Northern Railway—I got postcards asking when the towels would be sent, so that they could make shipping arrangements—I sent this answer on 28th July. (INSPECTOR CROSS. proved that notice to produce documents hid been served on the prisoners. The answer stated that the goods were forwarded on the 23rd)—I have never been paid for the goods I supplied, which came to something under £50—I believed there was a genuine firm of William Francks and Co., at 142, Fleet Street, and that they had an Australian inquiry for to welling, and wanted them in the ordinary way of business to send to Australia.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. All this business was carried on by correspondence from beginning to end—it is not very usual to give credit without making inquiries; I did it in this case—I did not ask for cash—goods delivered before the 20th of one month are payable for on the first of the following month; if delivered after the 20th they would be payable for a month later—these goods were delivered on 25th July, so that I should not expect payment till 1st September.
FREDERICK RICKENBERG . I am a carman in the Great Northern Railway Company's employ—on 25th July I delivered at 142, Fleet Street a box to William Francks and Co.; this is the delivery sheet, which I saw William Trautz sign "William Francks and Co."—142, Fleet Street is a house at the corner of a little court; I had to go up the court to deliver the case.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. William Trautz was standing outside when I arrived; it was between 8.30 and 8.45 a.m.—a person signing a delivery sheet should sign his own name, not the name of the person to whom the goods are addressed.
SAMUEL BACON . Re-examined). About ten a.m. on 25th July I was keeping observation on 142, Fleet Street, in company with Cross—I saw William Trautz walking up and down on the opposite side of the road till about 10.30, when a Great Northern Railway van drew up at the court leading to the side door of 142, Fleet Street—William Trautz crossed the road and spoke to the carman, who, with assistance, took a case off the van and placed it outside the door of 142, Fleet Street, up the court—Emile Trautz then went up the court, and after being there a few minutes he and William came out of the court, had a conversation, and went away—about 11.30 Saunders and Hall came up to the court with a barrow—
William Trautz came up and spoke to them; they all three went up the court with the barrow, and some little time afterwards William Trautz came out, crossed over to the other side of the road, and then Saunders and Hall came out with the case delivered by the Great Northern van, on the barrow—that case had never gone inside the doorway of No. 142—they went up Ludgate Hill, William Trautz following on the opposite side of the road, as far as Ludgate Circus, where I lost sight of him—as soon as they left the court Emile Trautz came out and went right away—I followed Saunders and Hall with the case to 5A, Stoney Lane; they took the case inside there—after they had gone I passed by that shop; the shutters were up, and it was closed, except for the door being half-way open—I saw Emile Trautz and Joseph inside talking together by the side of the case—after about twenty minutes they came out, Joseph locking the door—they went into Houndsdith, where I left them—there was no name up over 5A, Stoney Lane, and no indication of what business was carried on or anything of that kind—the same morning I was keeping observation on 58, Warren Street—I saw Fruhling come out about 9.30 and go into a street opposite, where I lost sight of him—I then went to Fleet Street and met Cross, and saw what I have stated.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. I did not see Fruhling at Fleet Street, nor at Stoney Lane.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. There is a Sunday market in Stoney Lane, and a good business is done there—5A is a shop.
THOMAS HALL . I am a porter, living at 52, Chicks and Street, Mile End New Town—on 25th July I was out of employment—I met Emile Trautz at the corner of Duke Street, Aldgate—he asked me to get a strong barrow and fetch another man and go to 142, Fleet Street, to take a case to 5A, Stoney Lane—I chose Saunders, and went to 142, Fleet Street—I there saw William Trautz—I went upstairs to the office to see if Mr. Francks was there, but no one was there—we got the case on the barrow, and went off to 5A, Stoney Lane, by ourselves—William Trautz did not go with us—at Stoney Lane I saw Emile Trautz, whom I knew as Francks, and Joseph—Emile told me to get the case off the barrow, and helped us in with it, and paid us 3s. 6d.—the shop, No. 5A, was closed, except for the door being open—I had done two jobs before for Emile Trautz—two days before I had taken a very small, light case of fifty or sixty pounds from 142, Fleet Street, to 5A, Stoney Lane; I saw William Trautz at Fleet Street, and I saw Emile Trautz waiting outside the shop, 5A, Stoney Lane, which was closed—I left the case outside on the pavement with Mr. Francks; he paid me, and I went away—the other occasion was about nine months ago, when Emile Trautz employed me to take three small cases from either Fleet Street or Jewry Street, Minories, to 5A, Stoney Lane—on each occasion I saw both William and Emile Trautz—I did not see Joseph on that occasion—the place at Jewry Street was not a shop, only an office—I don't know what sort of house it was; I had the goods from downstairs.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. William Trautz has never employed me, but I have seen both brothers on each of the three occasions I have been employed—I said at the Police-court that William employed and paid me on the last occasion, but I was not very well that morning,
and I have very bad sight—it would be possible for Emile, after employing me at one place, to go on and meet me at the other end.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I have not told anyone before that Emile employed me nine months ago—I was not asked about it at the Police-court—it was just before last Christmas—I have known Emile Trautz for two or three years—he did not employ me till nine months ago—I cannot remember whether it was from Fleet Street or Jewry Street that I took things then for him.
HENRY SAUNDERS . I am a porter, living at 3, Heneage Street, Aldgate—on 25th July I went with Hall to 142, Fleet Street, with a barrow—I there saw Willian Trautz, who pointed to a big case up the court, and said, "That is it"—I put the case on the barrow, and took it to 5A, Stoney Lane—I there saw Emile Trautz and Joseph—I put the case just inside the door—I had been to Stoney Lane about a week before for Joseph—I saw him at the corner of Bevis Marks, and he said, "Come up to 142, Fleet Street; there are four and a half bundles of cricket stumps to come back"—I went to Fleet Street, and saw the two Trautzes, and I brought four and a half bundles of cricket stumps from there to Stoney Lane, and gave them to Joseph, who paid me—about eighteen months ago I took two cases of champagne from the King's Arms public-house, at 45, Houndsditch, to Bow Road for Joseph—none of the other prisoner had anything to do with that transaction.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. The case I took from 142, Fleet Street, was outside the office in the court—I did not see William Trautz at Stoney Lane—I have seen him occasionally with Emile when he wanted a job done—William is very like Emile.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. This was the first time Emile had engaged me—I had seen him before, but had done nothing for him.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I knew that Joseph was a licensed victualler, and kept the King's Head at Shoreditch.
ALBERT MORRIS MARKS . I am an Australian merchant at 75, Billiter Buildings—about two years ago Joseph, whom I had known before, brought me invoices of buckles to be sent to Sydney and sold on his account, and I made him an advance on the shipment—the goods did not fetch as much as I advanced, and Joseph owed me £ 16 odd—about 16th July Joseph brought me some samples of towels which he described as a job lot of sixteen gross, I think—he offered them to me for £ 35—I said I did not know their value, but that if he left the sample I would get an opinion and tell him next day—I took an opinion upon them, and next day offered him £ 28—I think he went away and came back and offered to accept £ 30—I agreed—on 1st August I gave him this cheque for £ 21 3s.—it is his endorsement on the cheque, and this is his receipt—I proposed to deduct the £ 16 he owed me; he said the one transaction had nothing to do with the other, and that he had paid for the towels, and that if I made the deduction he would be deficient in money to meet a bill—he offered to pay the £ 16 by instalments—I afterwards agreed to deduct half the amount, £ 8 9s. 4d., and to accept a promissory note for the other half—he did not tell me where he had got the towels from, or whom he had paid for them; he showed me no documents showing how he became possessed of the towels they went out to Australia.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I think I had only had the one
transaction with Joseph previous to this—I took these towels to be a job lot; they were different sizes, and the sizes were badly assorted for the Australian trade—when I offered him £28 I think he went away to consult someone—I did not know he was acting as an agent; I cannot say that he told me that.
Re-examined. I wanted them packed in a zinc-lined case, and he offered to ship them—he said they were in a sound case, and could be shipped in that—I never saw it.
WILLIAM OLDHAMPSTEAD . (Detective Inspector, City). On 14th October, 1892, I received certain information with regard to Walden and Co., of 194, Upper Thames Street, and I made inquiries, and, in consequence, went to see Joseph, and told him I had an inquiry with reference to goods obtained from a firm in Birmingham by Walden and Co., and that I had traced these goods to him—he said, "Yes, I bought them"—I said, "Who did you buy them of?"—he said, "A man named Trautz"—I warned him of that person, and told him he had better be very careful with regard to the firm of Walden and Co., which was nothing but a long firm.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. It was Emile Trautz he spoke of.
Cross-examined by MR. DRAKE. I did not then know it was Emile—I made a note of my conversation with Joseph—I had not seen Trautz then to my knowledge—I would not like to swear that I had seen him speak to Joseph; I saw a certain person in a public-house in Houndsditch on one occasion when I was waiting for Joseph.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. No proceedings were taken in 1892.
Re-examined. I have here my note of the conversation.
ROBERT COOPER . I am the landlord of 194, Upper Thames Street—in the autumn of 1892 a firm of Walden and Co. dealt in fancy articles there—Emile Trautz was a member of that firm—I do not think I know any of the other prisoners by sight—Walden and Co. were there three or four months—I don't know when they went, because they had the keys of the office, and I had no notice when they went—a little rent was owing.
JAMES AUSTIN . (Detective Constable, City). I had instructions, and watched 142, Fleet Street, and the Trautzes and Fruhling, from 27th July for some days—on Friday, 27th July, I saw William and Emile Trautz together at Ludgate Circus—they separated—William went to the office at 142, Fleet Street—after two or three minutes he came out and joined Emile, and gave him some letters—after reading them they went to several public-houses, and then separated; Emile went to the Red Lion, Bevis Marks, and after remaining there a short time to 5A, Stoney Lane, which is occupied by Joseph—shortly afterwards Emile came back to the Red Lion, where he joined William—they stayed there a short time; then Emile left William and went again to 5A, Stoney Lane, and from there to the Red Lion and the Spread Eagle, High Street, Whitechapel, where Joseph and his family live—shortly afterwards he rejoined William at the Red Lion, Bevis Marks; Joseph joined them—they were all three together for half an hour, in and out of the Red Lion—William and Emile went to 5A, Stoney Lane, and from there to Ludgate Circus, where they parted—Emile went to 142, Fleet-Street,
and was followed by William, who also went in—after about a quarter of an hour William left with a large paper parcel—he was afterwards joined by Emile, and they went to the Red Lion, Bevis Marks, and from there to Joseph's public-house—Joseph was not there then, but he joined them, and was in their company for half an hour—I left them there—next day, 28th July, I again saw William go into the office, 142, Fleet Street—after two or three minutes he came out and joined Emile, and handed him letters, which they read—they went to Giltspur Street, where Fruhling joined them, and they were together for about half an hour—Fruhling went to 6, Camden Gardens, a private house—on Monday, 30th July, I saw William go to the office, 142, Fleet Street—after two or three minutes he left and joined Emile, and gave Emile some letters—after reading them, Emile gave one back to William, who put it into his coat-tail pocket—they went to Giltspur Street, and met Fruhling at the same place as the day before—they were together for a few minutes—that afternoon I again saw Emile in Stoney Lane, near No. 5A—I left him at the Red Lion—on 31st July I saw William at the office, 142, Fleet Street; he came at the same time, ten o'clock each morning—he came out after two or three minutes and joined Emile, who used to wait in a back street—they went to the Red Lion, Bevis Marks—William met Emile at Farringdon Street Station that morning, and after he left him Fruhling joined William—I watched William and Emile up to seven o'clock that evening; they spent the day in the Red Lion and the Spread Eagle—on the 1st August I saw them in Mark Lane—after going to two or three public-houses William went to 142, Fleet Street, and was there for two or three minutes—I watched them for the rest of the day—they were together till four p.m. in public-houses—on the 2nd August I saw Emile in Fen-church Street and followed him to the Red Lion and Spread Eagle—he came out with Joseph after about a quarter of an hour—I was with Bacon—we arrested Joseph, and the warrant was read to him—on the remand I saw Joseph outside the Mansion House; he was on bail—I said, "I am told to tell you that you will now be further charged with conspiring with William and Emile Trautz and Fruhling and obtaining 200 gross of fly-papers from Tunbridge, of Reading"—he said, "I don't know them at all; I am as innocent of them as I am of the other charges."
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. The longest time William stopped at 142, Fleet Street, was fifteen or twenty minutes on the Friday; they were both there then—as a rule he stayed just two or three minutes.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. The public-house where I saw Joseph is in his wife's name.
WILLIAM CROSS . Re-examined.) On 25th July, I was with Bacon at 142, Fleet Street—I have heard his evidence and corroborate it—on 8th August I had a warrant for the prisoners' arrest—I went to Leyton with Bacon, where I saw Emile about five p.m.—I said, "Your name is Francks?"—he hesitated for a moment—I said, "We are police officers. You are trading in the name of Francks and Co. at 142, Fleet Street. I hold a warrant for your arrest for obtaining a quantity of goods from different people. I will read it to you later on. Where is Alexander? Is he in your house?"—he said, "Yes," and then "No"—I said, "Who is that man inside the house?"—he said, "That is my brother; he has nothing at all to do with this matter"—I left him in charge of Bacon
and went to 15, Goodall Road, and knocked at the door—it was opened by William Trautz—I said, "I am a police officer. I want to speak to you for a moment"—we walked to the back of the house—I said, "Where is Mr. Francks?"—he said, "He is out"—I said, "Are you Mr. Alexander?"—he said, "No, that is not my name"—I said, "What is your name?" he said, "My name is Trautz"—I said, "You are the party mentioned in this matter; how do you spell your name?"—he wrote it in my book—I read the warrant to him—he said, I "I know nothing about it"—I said, "You have been to Fleet Street for letters"—he said, "Yes, I went up there once for my brother when he was queer"—I said, "You are the party mentioned in this warrant, and you will have to go to the station with me"—after we had searched the house he was taken to the station—I went back to Emile and said he would have to go to the City—he wanted to go back and see his wife first—the Trautzes were taken to Bridewell and detained—the warrant was read to them; they made no reply—when Emile saw his brother in custody he said he had nothing to do with the matter; he merely sent his brother for letters when he was queer—on 9th August I saw Fruhling in custody at Bridewell Police-station between 10 and 11a.m.—I said, "Your name is Fruhling?"—he said, "Yes"—I said., "I am a police officer. I hold a warrant for your arrest for conspiring with Alexander and Emile Trautz and obtaining a quantity of goods in different parts of the country"—he said, "I never obtained any goods. I merely wrote the letters; I did not sign them"—I read the warrant—he said "I know nothing about it"—I said, "You were trading as Krall and Webster in the Minories last year?"—he said, "I was not; I was merely a clerk. I wrote the letters; I did not sign them"—I said, "Who did sign them?"—he said, "Francks. I have known Francks for some years; he was introduced to me by Masters, whom I have known for twenty-five years"—I read the warrant to him—he said he did not know anything about it; he merely wrote letters for these people, who could not write English; he got his living by translating, and that sort of thing—Emile at the Mansion House pointed to Fruhling, and said, "This is Alexander"—Joseph had been taken into custody the day before by Bacon—I afterwards went with Bacon and Austin to 5A, Stoney Lane, a small shop with a basement—there was no name up, but stuck on the door was a piece of paper, "If out, call at Mr. Cohen's, opposite"—in the cellar was a lot of straw and empty bottles, and three or four old account-books, relating to public-houses years before—there were no books relating to business within three or four years—I found there this half gross of fly-papers lying on the counter—the shop was shut up, except on Sunday morning, when a barrow with a board was put up outside, and things put on it, but then the shop was closed to the public—there was nothing in the front of the shop to show what kind of business was being done—on 14th August Joseph was with his solicitor at the Police-office, Old Jewry, where the whole of the goods from the house had been taken—Joseph, pointing to the fly-papers, said, "That is a sample; he asked me whether I could do anything with them; I said I could not"—I believe that Joseph does not hold a license now—I found documents at Joseph's relating to Walden and Co.
—I found two lots of documents purporting to be receipts for money paid to Trautz, dated 1892.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRISON. William Trautz gave his right name when arrested—I thought he was Alexander—he frankly admitted that he went to Fleet Street to get letters.
Cross-examined by MR. BUTLER. No key to fit the premises was found on Fruhling—he said he got his living by being a clerk and translating letters.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE HALL. I only found half a gross of fly-papers; the value of them would be 2s. or 3s., I suppose—I remember when Joseph was a publican—he has also carried on the business of a commission agent for some years—there is a Sunday market in Stoney Lane, and there is a good deal of business done there—everything was put outside the shop—more business is done on Sunday than any other day; I have not been round there much.
Re-examined. I have been there on Sunday and seen the boards outside the shop, 5A—I have seen cricket bats, and stays, and footballs, and dog collars, and other things on the board.
SAMUEL BACON . Re-examined). At 9.30 p.m. on 8th August I went to the Red Lion, 94, High Street, Whitechapel, with Austin—I saw Joseph in a private compartment, and told him I had a warrant for his arrest—he said, "What for?"—I said, "I will read it to you"—I read it; it was for conspiring with Francks and others—he said, "I don't know Francks and Co. I know a man by the name of Trautz. I have sold some towels for him"—I said, "Have you any of them now?"—he said, "No, I sold them to a Mr. Marks, a shipping agent"—I said, "Have you done business with Trautz before?"—he said, "Yes"—I took him to Bridewell Station, where he was charged with the Trautzes—he made no reply.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKE HALL. I have known Joseph for fourteen years.
Joseph received a good character.
EMILE TRAUTZ, FRUHLING, and WILLIAM TRAUTZ— GUILTY . JOSEPH— GUILTY. of Receiving. FRUHLING then PLEADED GUILTY. to having been convicted of obtaining goods by false pretences in April, 1892, in the name of Henry Schwann, at Manchester. INSPECTOR CROSS. stated that in about forty other cases goods had been obtained in a similar manner from various parts of the country.— Five Years Penal Servitude each.
The COURT. concurred in the commendation of the police in this case expressed by the committing Alderman.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, September 13th, 14th, and 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. T. HUMPHREYS. Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH. Defended Wright.
FREDERICK OXLEY . (Detective E). On July 20th, about 2.30, I was with Callaghan, another officer, in plain clothes, in Drury Lane, and saw the four prisoners and three other men come through Bedford Street into Drury Lane—an old gentleman, alone, was going up Bedford Street towards Endell Street—we recognised two of them, and determined to watch them—we concealed ourselves in two shops, a beershop and a butter shop, and scarcely before we had time to do so the whole gang surrounded the old gentleman—Crowther and Mason got in front of him—they both put their hands on his waistcoat and clutched at his watch-chain—he put up his hands to protect himself, but the prisoners pushed him down in the road, and his hat fell off—Wright and Hanson were close together—Callaghan and I ran out, but before we could get near them, seeing us, they ran off in all directions—Crowther and Mason shouted out, "If you follow us we will corpse you"—they were all flourishing very thick sticks—the gentleman scrambled up and ran away in a different direction, and we chased them, but lost sight of them—I have known Crowther and Hanson a long time, and I know Mason, but not for so long—I saw Wright there; I had seen him once before with a similar gang; Crowther's brother, who is now in prison, and Massy and Hanson and another man who I do not know—after going to several other houses, I went with Callaghan at 3.15 on the same afternoon to the Sun public-house, Drury Lane—we looked into the private bar, and saw the four prisoners and three other men and three or four women all in the same compartment—I recognised the other three men as the men I had seen before that day—I got the assistance of two uniform men, and then went in with Callaghan, and said, "We are police officers; you will be charged with attempting to rob a gentleman and violently assaulting him"—two or three of them said, "All right, we will go quietly"—Mason said, "All right, governor, let us drink our beer"—I took hold of Crowther and handed him to Tate; he called out something, and there was immediately a free fight—they still had their sticks with them, and they struck us in all directions—I saw the landlord just as we took them in custody, but not while the tight was taking place—they struck me all over my body; the uniform constables were obliged to use their truncheons, and we were obliged to use our walking-sticks to protect ourselves—they then commenced scrambling over the partition—Mason climbed over, and I went over and dropped on top of him, and while I was securing him Hanson jumped over me into the street—I handed Mason to a constable, and chased Hanson through several streets, and he was stopped by another officer—he struggled violently, and hit us both—we took them to the station—they were all charged, and made no reply, except using filthy language and threats—Crowther said at the station, "That is the black heifer; they looked for us in the Iron House last night," and after a short time, he said, "We will kill you when we get out"—the Iron House is a public-house in Seven Dials—we had been there looking for all four of them the night before—other prisoners used to meet there; no one has objected to the license.
Cross-examined by Mason. I am sure every man had a stick—they were the same sticks as the two Macks have at the music-hall—you threw
your stick down when you jumped over the partition—I did not keep it because I had enough to do to take you—there was a water bottle and glasses there.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I had only seen Wright once before, and in the evening—I did not know him to be a thief, but I saw him with thieves—I made no note of the conversation at the station, but I believe my brother officer did—I did not hear the other men say that Wright was quite innocent, and had not been at the robbery at all.
Cross-examined by Crowther. I was in a butter shop—I am sure I saw you snatch the old man's chain—you came up in front of him—there was a great uproar just afterwards—you flourished the sticks in Bottenden Street; you had one—you were fighting with a constable at the door of the public-house, hitting and biting him—one of the men threw a glass—he was on the sick list for some considerable time afterwards.
Cross-examined by Hanson. The gentleman was going towards Endell Street—the robbery was committed at the corner of Bottenden Street—there were seven or eight men there—Lockhart's coffee-shop is at the corner—you and young Crowther, Crowther's brother, were together, and Mason in front of you—there was no one else in the street but a postman, but when I blew my whistle the neighbourhood was all in an uproar—you ran through three streets to where I arrested you—I struck you once on your knees with the crook of my walking-stick, and a gentleman living in Endell Street told me to give you two or three more—you had dropped your stick before you left the public-house—I did not pick it up, because the house was surrounded by nearly a hundred people—when the constable took you you struggled and kicked—I have a mark on my leg from a kick—I was assaulted by you, and you were charged at the Police-court with kicking me—my leg was green and blue, and it afterwards commenced running; I showed it to the inspector.
Re-examined. I think it is impossible that Wright could have said he was not there, and I not hear him, I was so close to him.
HARRY CALLAGHAN . (Detective E). On July 20th, about 2.30 p.m., I was with Oxley in Drury Lane, and saw the prisoners and three others surround an old gentleman at the door of Lockhart's coffee-shop—I had seen Crowther and Hanson before on two or three occasion, and Wright and Mason once before—they made a grab at the gentleman's watch-chain, and knocked him into the road; they ran away, I followed them—they said, "You heifers, if you follow us we will corpse you"—we afterwards found them in a public-house and told them the charge—they said, "All right, governor, we will go quietly"; but a general fight took place, and pots, glasses, and sticks were used—outside the public-house they called on the crowd to rouse, which means rescue—there are about seven public-houses within a small radius—about one hundred people surrounded us and attempted to rescue the prisoners, who struggled violently all the while—we got them to the station with further assistance—I got hold of Wright—at the station Mason said, "The first time we meet you we will kill you"—he also said, "We knew it would come to this, working too strong handed"—the others said "Yes"—they were charged, and made no reply—I saw Hanson jump over the partition.
Cross-examined by Mason. You Mere coming down Bottenden Street—I saw you go up to the old gentleman and grab at his watch-chain with
three others—I saw what took place from a different position to what Oxley was in—I did not see you put your hand on the chain—I was in a public-house—I came out and chased a man and fell, or I should have had him here—he had a dark moustache—you had a stick—we did not set about unmercifully with our sticks till a general fight took place, and then we had to use our sticks to defend ourselves—glasses were thrown about, and some were smashed against the partition.
Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Wright had one arm held by a detective and the other by a constable; he used the stick and got away from the constable, and I got hold of him; he struck me and I used my stick—there were seven men and three or four women.
Cross-examined by Crowther. I saw you grabbing the chain, and then the man was hustled and thrown into the road—the other men surrounded him—he was thrown into the roadway by two of the gang—you flourished sticks as soon as you saw us; you had a stick—I cannot say whether you assaulted any person besides the constables—you know it is impossible to get witnesses here, because they are afraid to come—it is such a frequent occurrence to have fights and disturbances there that the people in the coffee-house took no notice of it—there were a few people walking in the street—I have known you two years—I saw you on the Dials four or five days before, with Mason and Hanson, and I saw you before that in Long Acre.
Cross-examined by Hanson. About three men ran through Bottenden Street—you all had sticks.
Re-examined. I saw all the prisoners together on the Tuesday night before.
EDWARD TATE . (17 ER). On July 20th I was on duty in Drury Lane about 2.40 p.m., at the corner of High Holborn, and saw an old gentleman running along Drury Lane in a most excited state—he made a complaint to me, in consequence of which I went to Bottenden Street, but did not see either of the prisoners—later in the afternoon I went with Oxley and Callaghan to the Sun public-house—I took hold of Crowther—he struck me a violent blow on my hand with a very large walking-stick—he hurt me, and I was compelled to go on the sick list for three weeks; I had no use of my hand—he also kicked me several times on my legs—I over-powered him, got him outside the house, and took him to the station—he resisted on the way, and I had to strike him several times with my truncheon in self defence—I have not seen the old gentleman since.
Cross-examined by Crowther. He told me he had been knocked down by a gang of roughs, pointing down Drury Lane, who attempted to rob him—I asked him if he could give any description—he said, "No"; he had had sufficient of them, and he could not stop—I asked his name and address; he declined to give them—he was glad to get away for fear you should attack him again—he went up Museum Street, and I went down Drury Lane to made inquiries—you made violent resistance—I have the mark on my hand now, and you kicked me—I am positive you had a stick—there was such a conflict that I could not see who threw the glassses—your young woman did not say, "For God's sake, sir, do not hit him about in that manner," nor did I strike her, my truncheon was in my pocket—she did not, to my knowledge, come to the station to give evidence, nor was she refused admission—she struck me on my left ear
with her fist—the gentleman was from fifty-five to sixty; he had dark clothes, an iron-grey beard, and a high silk hat.
EDWARD FARNHAM . (365 E). On July 20th I was in Endell Street, and saw Hanson running, and Oxley after him—I stopped him; he kicked me on my shin, and Oxley came up and secured him—he kicked Oxley on his legs—when he found he was mastered, he said, "All right, I will give in, and go to the station."
Cross-examined by Hanson. Oxley was twenty yards behind you—you had no stick then—a working man did not say, "Don't strike him so many times," nor did Oxley say, "Hit him; give him two or three more."
Evidence for Mason.
JAMES WILLIAM JARVIS . I keep the Sun public-house, Drury Lane—one stick was picked up in my house—about seven men were there when the police came—two or three of them had very heavy sticks—they appeared to be young gentlemen—I went up to my dinner, and came down about two o'clock, and Mason was still there, and remained till he was arrested.
By the COURT. I saw the four prisoners there, and two or three more—they had two young "ladies" with them; two young men went out and brought them in about 12.45—I went up to dinner at 1.15 and came down at two, and found them all there still—I remained in the bar about ten minutes, and then went to the cellar; I was there about half an hour, and came up and found them there—my sister was there; she is not here—Mason did not go outside till he was arrested.
By Crowther. I did not see you with a stick or throw a glass, but two glasses were broken—I do not know whether they were thrown at the detectives—I saw sticks used on both sides.
By Hanson. I did not see you throw a glass—you were arrested in my house.
Cross-examined. I have known Crowther eleven months—I have seen Mason and Hanson as customers two or three times—I had never seen Crowther in my house before; I am not aware that he lived a few yards away—when I came back I saw men climbing over the partition—they all resisted as violently as they could—I saw Oxley take hold of Crowther, and saw the men begin to use their heavy sticks, and the uniform constables had to draw their truncheons—it was after that that Oxley and Callaghan had to use their walking-sticks—I heard a call for a rescue outside, but did not go out—I did not hear anybody call out "Rouse"—that means to get them away—my sister was the only person assisting me; she was serving while I was away—a water-bottle was not broken—I don't sell water.
Evidence for Wright.
ALICE EDWARDS . I am a buttonhole-maker, of 24, Liston Street, Mile End Gate—I was not living with the prisoner Wright, but he was in my apartments on Thursday, July 19th—he stayed there from the Monday to the Friday—I am not the landlady—I have apartments there, and he stayed
with me four days—he did not leave till 1.50 mid-day on Friday, the day he was arrested—he was in bed all day the day before; he was ill.
Cross-examined. Liston Street is near the London Hospital—he was in bed till 1.30—I have know him since childhood—he was brought up next door to me—while he stayed with me he was in the back room, and I was working in the front.
J. W. JARVIS. Re-examined). It was 12.45 when they all four came in, including Wright.
Mason's defence. I met a friend, and we went into a public-house, and Crowther and Hanson came in. We stopped till three o'clock, and went out. I am perfectly innocent of the robbery.
Crowther's defence. I had just come from my house, and met Hanson. He asked me to have a drink; we went to Bottenden Street to a public-house and saw Mason. I was there half an hour. I said, "I have a young woman to meet; I shall not be long." I went out and met her and went back with her, and in three-quarters of an hour the detectives came and said, "All you men consider yourselves in custody." Other persons were dragged out of the house, and I was struck over my head and legs with sticks and knocked about shamefully.
Hanson's defence. I met Crowther in Fleet Street, and asked him to have a drink, and remained there till I was arrested.
GUILTY .—They then PLEADED GUILTY. to previous convictions, Mason at Clerkenwell on November 2nd, 1891; Wright at Clerkenwell on April 8th, 1891; Crowther at Marlborough Street on July 5th, 1893; and Hanson at Newington on June 13th, 1893. Six previous convictions were proved against Mason, two against Hanson, six against Wright, and four against Crowther. Mason and Wright were both under tickets of leave, and Mason had been sentenced to fifteen months' hard labour and twenty strokes with the cat for robbery with violence. MASON— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude and twenty-four strokes with the cat. WRIGHT— Ten Years' Penal Servitude and twelve strokes. CROWTHER— Eight Years' Penal Servitude and twelve strokes. HANSON— Ten Years' Penal Servitude and twelve strokes. The JURY, and the GRAND JURY, commended the conduct of the officers, and the COURT. awarded £10 to Callaghan, £10 to Oxley, £10 to Tate, and £5 to Farnham. There were other indictments against the prisoners.
MR. C. F. GILL. and MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS. Prosecuted;
MR. HORACE AVORY. Defended.
On a previous day MR. GILL. had applied for an order to inspect the banking account of the prisoner's wife.
MR. AVORY. contended that this account was the separate account of the wife, who was no party to these proceedings, and therefore the COURT. had to power to make such an order.
The COMMON SERJEANT. declined to make such an order against a third party.
EDWARD JACKSON BARRON . I am a solicitor of the firm of Barron and Sons, 55, Lincoln's Inn Fields—we acted as solicitors to the administrator of the estate of Mr. Ramsay, who died intestate in August or September, 1892—a claim on that estate was put forward by the prisoner for Mrs. Gregg—the amount was somewhat indefinite—one item was £260, and there was a general claim, which I have here—I had twelve or thirteen letters written to me from time to time down to January, 1893, when I settled the matter on behalf of the administrator by agreeing to pay £280—there was some question as to the amount the family were willing to pay; the first suggestion was £140, but ultimately, after consulting the next-of-kin, the administrator agreed to give £280—I do not know whether this document (produced) ever came into my possession—I never saw it; it is addressed to Mr. Clack, authorising him to receive such sum as he might think proper—I wrote this letter with reference to it on the 14th June; Mr. Clack was a little pressing to get the money. (Stating that they were making final arrangements to wind up the estate, and promising an early settlement; the postscript stated that they had seen the adminstrator, who was willing to wind up the estate provided Mrs. Gregg accepted £140, although they hoped to get her more.)—I then wrote him another letter of the 15th June, substituting the enclosed for Mrs. Gregg's signature—I thought it a case in which compensation was proper—I produce the two documents; the latter one was sent to me signed and witnessed—I got a cheque for £280 shortly afterwards, and then received from the prisoner this letter, dated 5th July, acknowledging the receipt of my letters, and promising to obtain Mrs. Gregg's receipt, and requesting that the cheque might be drawn in his own name—after that I received a receipt for the £280, and paid the cheque in return—at that time my client had signed the cheque payable to her order, and on 8th June I handed the cheque to a messenger, and received this receipt signed by Mrs. Gregg—it did not come back to me; it was not my cheque—it was endorsed, "St. George Gregg"—I saw Mrs. Gregg in the matter two or three times before that, but never afterwards till these proceedings were initiated, and she came to my office to tell me what had happened.
Cross-examined. The claim was, in my opinion, one which could not be legally enforced; it was a moral claim rather than a legal one—she entertained the opinion that the deceased had left a will in her favour; it was put in that way by the prisoner—I think she would have got the sum without him, but I think he did the best he could for her—he got £280, when we had offered £140—if she had accepted the £140, I still think she would have got the £280; it was a question whether they should give her £10 or £20 apiece—it was not entirely through the prisoner's efforts that she got the money—I repudiated the claim altogether at first as a legal claim—I think the prisoner told me that the money was proposed to be used in setting Mrs. Gregg up in some business or school—I heard that his wife was a great friend of hers—there is no doubt that this receipt is signed by him—it was written out by my clerk in my office—the £280 is written in words—the receipt is witnessed by Theodore Grabler, clerk to Mr. Clack, and upon that I paid the money on Saturday, July 7th.
Re-examined. In my letter of the 14th June I say that I am prepared to obtain for the lady £140, and next day I myself suggested the substitution of £280.
JANE GREGG . I live at 5, Morton Terrace, S.W.—I have known the prisoner two or three years—I was acquainted with his wife before and after she was married—about two years ago I had a claim against the estate of a deceased person in respect of which I learned that Mr. Barron was acting—the prisoner spoke to me about it—I used to visit them at their private house, and it was there that he spoke to me—he knew that I had a claim, and he offered to act for me, and I consented—that was a few days after Christmas day, 1892—I saw him several times at his office and elsewhere at the beginning of 1893, chiefly at his office—I did not I then claim any specific sum; I sent in a general claim—early in July he told me that the amount was to have been £160—I knew that he was in communication with Mr. Barron, the family solicitor—I went and saw the prisoner a few days before I received any money from him, at his office in Bow Street—I signed one or two documents without reading them; he put them before me—this is my signature; it purports to be a receipt for £280—the prisoner said, "I wish you to sign a paper waiving all future claim on the estate," and I did so—I did not read it—Grabler was not there when I signed it—I knew him as the clerk—I did not know when I signed it that the sum of £280 appeared on the face of the document—nothing was said about the payment of the money on that occasion, but a few weeks afterwards he wrote to me to come to his office and sign a cheque—I went into his room;" nobody else was there—I sat by the side of his desk, and he asked me to sign a cheque; I put my name to it—this is what I refer to. (Pointing to the endorsement.) It was placed ready for me to sign—before I signed it I turned it over, and found it was for £160—he had mentioned just within the last few days the amount he had got for me—I then left the office—I saw him at his house next day, or the day after, in Charles Street, Rutland Gate, and signed a receipt for £160, and received the money—I then offered him £25 as a fee for his work—he said, "No," he would only accept £15—I also paid him £5, which was owing to Mrs. Clack, and I took away £140—up to that time I had never heard any statement from anybody that £280 had been paid by Mr. Barron—the prisoner said nothing about the £160 being on account of any larger sum—I thought it was a full settlement of my claim—after receiving it, I said I wished to thank Mr. Barron for his kindness—the prisoner objected to my doing so, and said, "The matter has been in my hands"—we then parted—I was at that time in the receipt of £50 a year from my brother—that was all my income—it did not all come from my brother, but from my relatives; it was paid by my brother—I received no further sum after that on account of the estate which Mr. Barron was administering—I never heard £280 mentioned till July, 1894—that was about the time I received a letter from Messrs. Wilson and Wallace—I then went to Mr. Barron and made inquiries, after which I swore an information at Bow Street before Sir John Bridge, and afterwards gave evidence there.
Cross-examined. I was on intimate terms with Mrs. Clack fifteen years before she was married; on close affectionate terms—she had been very kind to me and helped me—I wrote this letter to her on the day
before she was married to the prisoner. (Congratulating her and expressing her gratitude, and hoping that the Good Samaritan would reward her.) After she was married there was less intimacy, but she was not less kind—she lent me her house, 16, Charles Street, to live in for some weeks—It is her own house there was never any difference between us, and I had no reason to know that she was likely to do me any injury—she never suggested that I was extravagant with money—I have been trying to get a situation all the summer—it was suggested that I should take music pupils, but I never entertained the idea of a school—it was more than once suggested that when I got this money I should invest it so as to bring me in some livelihood—if I had enough I should have taken a house and let it—I spent the £140—I did not carry it all about till it was all spent, I put some of it in the Savings Bank merely to keep it till I spent it—I made no investment of it in any business—my brother went on paying the £1 a week—I was at the Police-court on the first occasion when the prisoner was charged, and heard him say that the money was ready for me and always had been—he complained that he had not even been asked for any explanation before the charge was made—at a later stage of the case Sir J. Bridge said that the money had not even then been paid over; I did not hear the prisoner or his solicitor say that he had been to the Treasury and offered to pay it over—I have heard that the £120 has been paid to my brother without interest—I have received a bankers' draft for £120—I did not authorise my brother to receive it for me; it was done without my knowledge; I do not know why, I think it might as well have been paid to me; I have not got it yet—I first made a charge against the prisoner in consequence of a letter I received from a firm of solicitors in Bow Street, in consequence of which I went to Messrs. Wilson and Wallace—I did not know that Mr. Grabler had been to see them—after that I went to Messrs. Barron, and then wrote to Wilson and Wallace, instructing them not to proceed further in the matter—it was after that that an information was sworn at Bow Street—Grabler was not a party to that—I was not aware when I swore it that Grabler was also swearing to it; I had not the least idea what he was swearing—I knew he was swearing about two cheques, but I had not read his information—I did not know for what purpose this information was being laid before the Magistrate—I did not know that Grabler had given information—I appeared on the second hearing, and stated to the Magistrate that I did not intend to go on or prefer any charge against Mr. Clack—I said, "Sir John, cannot I retire from this case? I have been led into it"—he said that he could not allow it—I know that Mrs. Clack has means of her own—I knew she was quite honest, and that she was a proper person to keep money for me—this is my signature to this document "C." (Authorising the prisoner to receive any sums he thought proper from the estate, his receipts to be a sufficient discharge.) I also signed "A." (Agreeing to accept £280 if paid within three months of June 17th, 1893, in full satisfaction and discharge of her claim.) Rut it was put before me in this way (folded), so that I did not read the body of it—Mr. Clack told me that it was a document waiving any future claim—it has nothing on it when folded except my signature—I may have turned it over, but I do not think I did; I did not read it—I will swear I did not see £280—only Mr. Clack was present,
it was in his office—on July 7th I signed "B." (Acknowledging the receipt of £280 from Mr. Barron in full discharge of all claims on the estate of the deceased.) That was also folded—I will not be sure I did not turn it over, but I swear I did not read it—in one was present when I signed it—it was signed at his office—if I turned it over, it was to look at it, but he told me what it was—I swear the two documents were not read to me before I signed then, and I do not remember the attesting signature being put in my presence—I suppose I said at the Police-court, "I am not in the habit of signing business documents; I will not swear the two documents were not read to me at the time"—I said what was true £280 was never mentioned—I endorsed the cheque for £160 in Mr. Clack's office—no one else was present—I had an impression that Mr. Grabler was present when I received the money, but he was not present when I signed the cheque—I received the £160 on the same day that I endorsed the cheque—I said first, "The defendant wrote to me to go to his house to receive the money. I then endorsed a cheque, which I turned up and saw it was for £160, I then received the money from the defendant, £160"—it was not at his house, but I suppose I said so—I suppose I said, "I got my money the same day that I endorsed the cheque, that was at the defendant's private house"—I cannot tell how many cheques I endorsed—I signed something one day and Mr. Clack wished me to go again and sign something else—I signed "Jane Gregg" only; St. George was my husband's name—I understand that it is being suggested that when I endorsed the cheque it was for £280—this blue cheque is longer than the other—I went to Mrs. Clack's house to receive the £160—I do not know whether it was on July 12th, but it was very shortly after I signed the receipt; it was four or five days after I endorsed the cheque—I received it in bank notes—I do not remember when I endorsed the cheque for £160 drawn by Mrs. Clack, and I did not remember when I was at the Police-court—I did sign my name on a cheque for £160—apart from that endorsement, I do not remember endorsing a cheque for £160 drawn by Mrs. Clack in my favour—I should not refuse to take a crossed cheque, because I do not know anything about crossed cheques—I know that a line is drawn across—I see Mrs. Clack here—I had not discussed with Mrs. Clack before the £160 was paid to me how much of it was to be paid to me and how much was to he retained; nor that £160 would be quite sufficient for my present wants, and that the remainder she could keep for a rainy day; nor did I say, "You know what I am; I should only spend the money foolishly if I had it all," and ask her to keep it for that reason—she suggested my putting some of it bank—I dined with Mrs. Clack after that, and visited her on other occasions—a servant named Annie used to wait at table. (Pointing to Annie Cowper.) After July 12th allusion was never made to the balance of money Mrs. Clack had in hand for me—a few weeks after I had the money she called my attention to the governess agency in Welbeck Street, and advised me to go there—I went to Folkestone soon afterward—I did not take lodgings at live guineas a week; I went to a boarding-house, and paid three and a half guineas for everything—I was there a fortnight—I spent the money entirely—Mr. Clack positively refused my paying him £20—it was he
who suggested £15, if I wanted to pay him anything—he took up the matter originally as a friend; that is why I did not read the documents.
Re-examined. I had great confidence in him—there is no truth in the suggestion that I consented to £180 being kept by Mrs. Clack; until I saw Wilson and Wallace I had no idea that I was to receive £280—at the time I wrote that letter to Mrs. Clack I had been in great trouble—Mr. and Mrs. Clack suggested that I should put some of the £180 into a bank—they went to Scotland after the money was paid to me, and were away a few weeks.
THEODORE GRABLER . I live at 63, Newman Street, Oxford Street, and am clerk to Mr. Pickersgill, the barrister—from September, 1892, to January, 1894, I was the prisoner's clerk at 15, Broad Court, Bow Street—I am a German—there was no other clerk except towards the end of 1893—a letter-book was kept, and a call-book, diary, and petty cash-book—the entries in the diary were made by the prisoner, and I had a diary of my own—he had no banking account while I was there—if any large sums were received, he told me he generally paid them into his wife's account—I know of no account but his wife's that he could pay a cheque into—he kept a cheque-book, and filled in cheques which were already signed by Mrs. Clack, and I sometimes changed them—I knew that he was in communication with Messrs. Barron with reference to Mrs. Gregg's affairs, and she used to come to the office—I remember his receiving a cheque from Mr. Barron for £280—there is only one office, but the back room is used as a waiting-room—clients come in at the back door—Mr. Clack said, "Don't be long at the Police-court. I want to give you some instructions, Mrs. Gregg is coming to endorse the cheque, and is very talkative; I am very busy, and when I cough you knock at the door, and say that I am required"—Mrs. Gregg came early one morning, and went in, and in ten or fifteen minutes I heard Mr. Clack cough—I looked in at the door and said, "Mr. Clack, you are wanted"—Mrs. Gregg was then sitting at Mr. Clack's desk with a pen in her hand, but she left almost directly—after she left Mr. Clack sent me out—I was away twenty minutes or half an hour, and when I came back he was in rather an excited state—he used the same office as I did—he said, "Mr. Grabler, I want you to help me with this"—he had a paper in his hand, and I put my glasses on, and saw two pieces of paper attached one to the other, but partly separated, and said, "What the devil have you been doing?"—he said, "Never mind what I do; you do what I tell you," and asked me to take hold of the two ends of the green cheque—I did so—he had the white cheque in his hand—I saw at once that they were cheques; one was greenish and the other white—he suffers from rheumatic gout, and can only use the thumb and forefingers of both hands—I took hold of this green cheque, and he pulled the white one from in front of it—I said, "Mr. Clack, you will tear the cheque"—he said, "Well, put some water on the edge; damp it"—I damped the edge of the cheque, and then he pulled the white cheque off, and threw the green one on his desk, and tore the white one in pieces, and took half a sheet of blue draft, and put the pieces in it, and threw it in the grate and set light to it—there was no fire in the grate—the cheque he put on the table was endorsed by Mrs. Gregg, and he said, "I am going to pay this into my wife's bank"—he said, "Mrs. Gregg is a friend of mine, and I
had to do this to get something for ray costs; she is an old friend of my wife's, and I did not like to ask her for anything"—this letter ("N") is in Clack's writing, "15, Broad Court. Dear Sir,—Please collect the enclosed cheque for £280, and pay the same into Mrs. Clack's account To the Manager of the London Joint Stock Bank, Westminster Branch"—this is a book of counterfoils of that bank; most of them are in Mr. Clack's writing, but some are in a hand which I do not recognise, and which looks rather like a lady's writing—when I left Mr. Clack's employment in June, 1894, I went to Mr. Havelock, a solicitor, and after that to Mr. Pickersgill, the barrister—that was eight or nine weeks ago—I was in the service of Messrs. Wilson and Wallace before I went to Mr. Clack—I went and saw Mr. Wilson in July—I made a statement to Mr. Pickersgill, and after that I swore an information—Inspector Marshall came to Mr. Wilson's office, and heard what I had to say—I was not present, I am sorry to say, when Mrs. Gregg signed this receipt for £280—it is signed, "Jane St. George Gregg," and my name appears as a witness—Mr. Clack asked me to witness the signature—he said it looked more business like—I did not know that any fraud was intended, and I witnessed it the same day, or the day following, but I was not present when it was signed—he said it would look better to have it witnessed—I remember hearing that he had got the cheque from Mr. Barron, and Mrs. Gregg came to the office the following day, or a day or two after.
Cross-examined. I became a barrister's clerk on June 18th—I have not been clerk to any other banister than Mr. Pickeregill—I first went to Messrs. Wilson and Wallace about a week after the prisoner proved an alibi at Bow Street Police-court by false evidence, two or three days before the information was sworn—I have been clerk to five or six solicitors during the last sixteen or seventeen years—I have not been in constant employment all the time—they were mostly gentlemen who practised in the criminal Courts—I left Messrs. Wilson and Wallace at the end of October or November, 1892—they did not discharge me; I had a little difference with Mr. Wilson, and left of my own accord, but after that he found out that I was in the right; he acknowledged it himself—he did not request me to leave; he said I told him a lie—I said, "No, sir, I have not," and took my hat and walked out of the office—I left Mr. Clack because he came back from this Court to the office at eight p.m. not very sober, and commenced to pick a quarrel and said, "You can go"—he had given me in the morning two lists of witnesses to be served with subpoenas, one marked "S" and the other "F," which were to be voluntary; and he complained that the subpoena list had not been filled up, and discharged me for alleged neglect of duty—I had certainly not neglected my duty—I was not a bit angry at being discharged—he never complained to me of my having been to his private house drunk on several occasions, and I never heard that he had complained—after I left him I was with Mr. Havelock about eight weeks, and left because there was no business—I knew that £280 was going to be paid for Mrs. Gregg—I did not suspect any fraud was being committed till I saw on the first cheque that there was £160, and I thought Mr. Clack had taken a good slice out for his costs—I thought he wanted to put the difference between £160 and £280 into his own pocket—I thought it was dishonest—I simply carried out his orders—I
should not have picked anybody's pocket if he had told me to do so—I did not know what he meant, because the whole thing did not take ten minutes—after they were separated I thought I was taking part in a dishonest transaction—I took "Stephen's Digest of the Criminal Law," and read there that anybody knowing that a felony I has been committed, or assists in the concealment thereof, is guilty of misdemeanor, and the prisoner proved an alibi, and I got frightened, and spoke to Mr. Wilson in confidence—this is the paragraph, section 157—I represent to the Jury that on July 15th, 1894, my eyes were first opened to the transaction by the passage in "Stephen's Digest"—I was then clerk to Mr. Pickersgill—the case in which the alibi was proved was at Bow Street in the week before July 15th; it was after the Court was over; it was the common talk; it was something I heard—I want to remove a wrong impression, I am here as a witness against my own will: as soon as Inspector Marshall heard this he started the case; the prisoner is not in the dock by my revenge; he is there by the police, through the subornation of perjury—I mean that I am not vindictive against the prisoner, but that this is a prosecution by the police, who wished to bring this man to justice in consequence of his having brought forward a false alibi—on my oath I did not communicate with the police before I went to Wilson and Wallace—I spoke to Mr. Wilson in confidence, and he said, "Yes, it is so"—I then gave information to the police, which led to this prosecution—I seriously ask these gentlemen to believe that with fifteen or sixteen years' experience I first learned on July 15th that a man who assists in a felony is himself liable—I did not think I was doing wrong if I carried out the orders of my master in a transaction which I found out afterwards to be dishonest—Mr. Clack had a cheque-book on the Imperial Bank at the commencement—they were of a whitish colour, and some were greenish—I swore more than once at the Police-court that the cheque which I saw in Mr. Clack's hands was on the Imperial Bank—there are two or three cheques on the Imperial Bank, and in one the word "Imperial" is crossed out with a red line, and the words "London Joint Stock" put in—I swore that the other cheque in his hands was on the Imperial Bank—I have got the receipt here—this is my signature, but I never witnessed Mrs. Gregg's signature to anything—I swore at the Police-court that it was not my signature, but was an imitation—I was being cross-examined when I was asked that, and I acknowledged that I had made a mistake—I was under the impression that it was an imitation of my signature—after swearing that I was shown a copy of the receipt, which I had copied myself on the same day after it had been signed—the copy was made to keep, the original was sent to Mr. Barron—it is since that document has been shown to me I have this day given this story about putting the signature after Mrs. Gregg had gone—I ratified my statement at the Police-court, but it was not taken down—I went back to the witness-box after I had signed my deposition, because I was recalled by the Magistrate, and I admitted that I had made a mistake, and what I said was not taken down—I said, "Yes, it is my signature"—what I said when I was recalled was taken down and read over, and signed by me—having stated such an important matter, I did not ask to have it put on the depositions, because I was taken by surprise; I had forgotten all about the transaction—
Mr. Clack never made a confidant of me—this story about the cough is not fresh to-day; it is in the sworn information to the best of my belief—it is the usual way of getting rid of talkative clients—Mrs. Gregg gave her evidence at the Police-court before me, and she was in Court when I gave my evidence—I was not present, as she suggests, at the prisoner's house when £160 was paid to her—I did not see her from the time she endorsed the cheque except for two minutes—I never saw her at the office after the endorsement of the cheque—this letter sent to the bank, naming the amount of the cheque, £280, has been copied into the letter book.
Re-examined. I was nearly three years with Messrs. Wilson and Wallace—I said at the Police court that the second cheque was on light coloured paper and drawn on the Imperial Bank—the cheque I had in my hand was the green one, on which I saw her endorsement—I copied the letters in the letter book; there are some in it to Mrs. Gregg—here is one of May 23rd, and another after that without date—there is no letter of July 12th or 13th—there are only three in the book—the last date in the letter book is February 26th, 1894—I made a statement to Mr. Wilson and saw Inspector Marshall two or three days afterwards, and informed him of what I knew about this matter—there had been a charge at Bow street against two Englishmen who robbed two Americans, and Mr. Clack acted for the Englishmen—I do not recollect attesting the signature of Mrs. Gregg at all—I never witnessed her signature to anything, and at the time this was produced I believed it was not my writing.
WILLIAM SINCLAIR CAMPBELL . I am a clerk in the Joint Stock Bank, Westminster branch—the Imperial had a branch there, and it was made a branch of the London Joint Stock Bank—we took over the accounts—there was an account there in Mrs. Clack's name which was opened at the end of 1892, and is still open—this counterfoil cheque-book was issued by the London Joint Stock Bank as it is now carried on—the counterfoils have been filled up—No. 308 is missing, and No. 309 is cancelled for cash on account of Mrs. Gregg for £160—the next counterfoil is July 12th, 1893, £160 to self or bearer—that counterfoil cheque was brought up to me in cross-examination at the Police-court—cheque 350 of July 12th for £160 was cashed—we return cheques to our customers in the pocket of their pass-book—we have not got the pass-book; Mrs. Clack called for it personally from time to time—I am not aware that the prisoner ever called for it, or anybody else—it was taken from the bank about every quarter—this cheque for £280 was sent in this letter for the purpose of collection, and the amount was placed to the credit of this account—I have the £160 cheque here; it was cashed on July 12th—I have not got a certified copy of the account.
Cross-examined. The bank had to receive dividends from time to time, which were credited to Mrs. Clack's account—the account was only opened after she was married—I had been a clerk in the Imperial Bank before—their bearer cheques Mere green and the order ones grey; this is a specimen—on the business being taken over we used the surplus cheques by erasing the name and printing the other, till the supply was gone; but we should not have dishonoured cheques of the Imperial Bank if the name had not been altered—the cheque corresponding to this counterfoil marked
"Cancelled" in Mrs. Clack's cheque-book never was a green one, and never was marked "Imperial Bank."
WALTER BORWICK . I am manager of the Victoria branch of the Joint Stock Bank—Mrs. Clack had an account there, which was opened with the Imperial Bank in September, 1892, after her marriage—it was one of the accounts we took over—I have got a certified copy of it from July 1st, 1893, to the end of July, 1894—she objects to our producing it, and I wish to take your ruling upon it. (MR. GILL. submitted that the account was admissible. MR. AVORY. contended that it was not relevant to the case. The COMMON SERJEANT. held that it was the prisoner's account although it was in his wife's name, and could be given in evidence.)
By MR. AVORY. We received dividends on her behalf; we held documents which stood in her maiden name, and the marriage certificate enables us to get the dividends—she generally fetched her pass-book, but occasionally we sent it to her by post—she was the only person who was entitled to draw on the account.
By MR. GILL. The balance at the end of 1893 was 5s. 4d—I see a cheque drawn to self for £190—she borrowed £190 of the bank on securities in November, 1893, and this cheque was drawn two days after in one sum—previous to July, £300 was placed to her credit—roughly, the credit balance in November, prior to the loan, was about £30—by the end of the year the £300 and the £190 had been exhausted, and the £280 cheque had been exhausted, and there was a balance of 5s. 4d.—the audit balance in July, 1892, was about £60, and on March 1st this year about £20—we had given her a further loan of £60 in February, 1894—the next loan was £150, on March 20th, before which the account was overdrawn by £50—that was operated on by small cheques, the largest of which was £30—there was another loan of £100 in May—the balance in June was £34, and at the end of July about £17.
Cross-examined. We held securities for a very much larger sum than Mrs. Clack ever required or borrowed—I should honour her draft up to £150, and not mark it "Not sufficient"—some of her dividends are payable in April and October; the interest on a mortgage is due in January and July—the entry of this £250 is noticeable in her pass-book; one of the securities we held was the lease of the house in Charles Street, Rutland Gate—that is in her own name.
Re-examined. We knew nothing of her husband as a customer—I produce some specimens of cheques; they are all one size, in books up to 100 each; those which are four in a page are a different size—those issued to Mrs. Clack were all the same size.
THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, of 59, Holborn Viaduct—I was instructed by the Solicitor to the Treasury to make a microscopical investigation of this cheque for £280, and I find in the top, bottom, and side margins traces of an adhesive snbstance, apparently gum; also in three places traces of paper of a much lighter colour, which has adhered to the cheque, and in other places, traces showing that the fine surface of this cheque had been removed apparently by some other substance, which has been detached from it—the paper which I found adhering to the cheque appears to have been torn from some other paper—I should describe the paper torn away as cream colour, similar to this cheque for £160 of the
London Joint Stock Bank—one piece is adhering to the left margin, and has a scalloped edge similar to the edge of a cheque torn from the counterfoil—the size of the cheque is about the same—I have examined the £160 cheque, and the scallops are similar—they are a little larger in some cheques—the writing on the face of counterfoil 350 is apparently the same at that on the cheque for £160, the same coloured ink, and the same kind of pen—I should say that this writing on the back of the counterfoil is Mr. Clack's—it is the same coloured ink, but fainter; it is a lighter shade—the ink will come off if you blot it—I should say it is done with a finer pen; a steel pen, I think.
Cross-examined. This is not the first time I have given evidence about gum—it does not appear as if some other cheque had stuck to it of its own volition—the appearance was not that of two cheques adhering by accident—if two cheques adhere accidently I should not anticipate their joining with mathematical symmetry—the appearances of this cheque are such as of a piece of paper having been placed on it. (Placing the cheques on each other.) There is a margin of blue showing—the blue cheque is 1-16th of an inch longer than the other—there are several places in the cheque where there is no gum at all, but there is gum at each corner—the counterfoil, "Cancelled for cash on account of Mrs. G.," is written with the same ink and blotted—if it was blotted it would dry lighter.
HENRY MARSHALL . (Police Inspector E). The facts of this case were brought to my attention on 18th July—I made inquiries when application was made by Mrs. Gregg not to go on with the case, and it was taken up by the Public Prosecutor.
WILLIAM EWING . I am a shorthand writer—I was present before Sir John Bridge on 24th July, and took a shorthand note of the prisoner's statement—this is a correct transcript of it. (This was an application by the prisoner, as some of his papers were mislaid. He stated that the charge was made through the malice of a discharged clerk, and that the prosecutrix did not wish to proceed with it.)
Cross-examined.—I have got my book here—I did not take Grabler's evidence—the prisoner gave an order to take notes of his application, not to me; I was employed by the man he employed—I was only there to take notes for the newspapers.
Evidence for the Defence.
ANNIE COWPER . I was house and parlour-maid to Mrs. Clack, at 16, Charles Street, Rutland Gate, from January, 1893, to January, 1894,—I have since been parlour-maid at Twickenham—I am now a ladies' maid at Dorking—I remember Mrs. Gregg coming to Charles Street as a visitor when I was there—she frequently dined there with Mrs. Clack—on several occasions I have heard them speak as to money that was coming to Mrs. Gregg—I saw some bank-notes—I was in the house when they were paid to Mrs. Gregg by Mr. Clack—Mrs. Clack had been to the bank to fetch the notes, and she came back that afternoon about five o'clock—after that day I saw Mrs. Gregg at the house on several occasions—she afterwards dined there on several occasions with Mr. and Mrs. Clack, and sometimes with Mrs. Clack alone—when Mrs. Clack was alone with Mrs. Gregg she said, "I have money in reserve for you to the amount of £120"—I do not remember any reply
—I heard several times after that that notes had been handed over to Mrs. Gregg—on several occasions I heard Mrs. Clack tell Mrs. Gregg she ought to take some little school; a school at Clapham wax spoken of most, to take pupils—Mrs. Clack also spoke to me about the money which Mrs. Gregg was to receive several times—Mrs. Clack managed the money matters in the house, saw to the payment of bills, and so on—I have seen her draw cheques for that purpose.
Cross-examined. I have been with the lady I am now with about four months—I have known Mrs. Clack about eighteen months—I entered her service in January, 1893—I stayed a year—I left her to go and nurse my mother, who was ill at Richmond; about January, 1894—I was with her about two months, perhaps a little over; then I went into some other service because Mrs. Clack could not wait for me—I stayed about two months; it was at Twickenham—then I went to Dorking about three or four months ago—the lady I was with at Dorking was a friend of Mrs. Clack—I have known the lady I am with now about twelve months as coming to Mrs. Clack's house, and staying in the house, sleeping there—when I was with Mrs. Clack I kept my place as a maid to a lady—she talked to me about her private affairs—I heard that Mrs. Gregg was going to get some money several times; it was discussed when I was waiting at table—I was always in and out and up and down and I heard the conversations when I was waiting at table—I first heard of it between June and the end of July last year; July I know it was—I cannot say how often Mrs. Gregg came to the house before the money was paid; it think more than twice—the sum mentioned that Mrs. Gregg was to receive was £160—that was in June—I first knew this in June, 1893—I was present when she received it—I knew it about a fortnight before it was paid—I understood Mr. Clack was acting as a friend to Mrs. Gregg in the matter—I knew he was a solicitor—Mrs. Gregg came to the house during the fortnight—she was told she was to receive £280—both Mr. and Mrs. Clack said so—she was to have £160 on that day, and Mr. Clark was to keep £120 for her—I knew that about a fortnight before—I do not remember what Mrs. Gregg said—she seemed pleased that the money was coming to her, and was to be kept for her—Mrs. Clack was to keep it, because Mrs. Gregg would spend it; she was very extravagant—Mrs. Gregg said she might spend it if she had it all, and she asked Mrs. Clack to keep it for her—Mrs. Clack consented to do it, and she thanked Mr. Clack—it was to be put to her banking account—I cannot say who fixed the sum at £160—Mr. and Mrs. Clack and Mrs. Gregg were at dinner—I cannot say the day of the conversation, only the month, June—I went to Mrs. Clack as house and parlour maid—there was no cook—I used to cook, and sometimes she helped me—I was not exactly a general servant, but a domestic help—sometimes we had a charwoman and sometimes a woman to cook the dinner—I cooked the dinner the day Mr. and Mrs. Clack dined there—I was backwards and forwards, and after dinner I was downstairs—I think the money was mentioned when I was clearing away for dessert—both Mr. and Mrs. Clack mentioned it, but I cannot remember every little thing—Mr. Clack said £280 was coming to her, and she was to have £160—I do not think it was that day she asked Mrs. Clack to keep the money for her, it was one evening afterwards—I was told a paper was signed—
I was not in the room when the money was paid—I was up and down stairs, and I said, "What, a lot of bank-notes there are on the table," and Mrs. Clack said, "They are to be paid to Mrs. Gregg"—I saw Mrs. Gregg come into the room—I knew she had the money—I did not see her get it—Mr. and Mrs. Clack went to Scotland in August—I said before the Magistrate: "I remember the day that £160 was given to her; I saw the notes; after that day Mrs. Gregg once or twice visited the house"—Mrs. Clack, when she visited the house after that several times, told Mrs. Gregg she had the money for her—I cannot remember what it was she said, nor when I last saw Mrs. Gregg at the house, it is such a long time ago—I have been to see Mrs. Clack several times since I left her—I went about a character—she got me my present situation—after I left I stayed there one night when I came to London to go to Dorking in May—I stayed at Charles Street, when I came up to give evidence before the Magistrate, with the lady I am with—after that I went back to Dorking—I have been staying in Charles Street about three weeks—Mr. and Mrs. Clack have been away—I came up to give evidence on 12th August—I then went with Mrs. Clack back to Charles Street.
Re-examined. Since I gave my evidence at Bow Street Mr. and Mrs. Clack have been away from the house at Charles Street—they have been staying at Staines—I remember the day the money was paid to Mrs. Gregg—I do not remember the exact words used, but £120 in addition to the £160 was to be paid to her—I heard it more than once; it was mentioned in Mrs. Gregg's hearing—I am sure I remember distinctly hearing Mrs. Gregg ask Mrs. Clack to take, charge of £120 for her—I did not tell the Magistrate that—I was not asked that—I said before the Magistrate, "While waiting at table after the money had been paid, I heard Mrs. Clack tell Mrs. Gregg that now she had got the money she should use it for some good purpose; take a little school with it, with the money handed to her by Mr. Clack"—I do not remember anything else distinctly—I heard that the money was £160, and that Mrs. Clack also had £120 in hand for Mrs. Gregg, and that £120 was for the business—I heard that said several times.
The prisoner received a good diameter.
GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. The JURY. stated that they wished to exonerate Mrs. Clack
MR. LAWLEY, for the prisoner, stated that the money charged on this indictment had been repaid.
The prisoner's brother stated that he was entitled to a few hundred pounds in Sweden, and restitution would be made to other persons who had been defrauded. Judgment respited.
FOURTH COURT.—Saturday, September 15th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. MACOM. Prosecuted.
ANNIE PEZETCK . Interpreted). I am the wife of Morris Pezetck, a tailor—I went to bed at eleven p.m. on 3rd August—I locked the private door, but the shop door I left open; my husband was reading a paper in the shop—about two a.m. I awoke and found the private door, which I had locked and the shop door open—next morning my husband missed some coats and jackets—I saw the jackets and coats found on the prisoner, and recognised them as my husband's property.
MORRIS PEZETCK . I am the husband of the last witness—about eleven p.m. on 3rd August I was asleep in the workshop—when I woke up the front door was open—these coats were hanging against the door when I went to sleep—I identify them as my property.
WALTER FUNNELL . (88 H). On the early morning of 4th August I was on duty in Spellman Street—I saw the prisoner carrying these coats on his left arm in Chicksand Street; he was with another man—I followed; on my turning into the street they were in they ran away—I ran after them—they ran into Davis's lodging-house—the prisoner sat down on a form, and threw the coats down at his feet, and slipped his handkerchief off, and took his boots off—I said, "Where did you get these coats from?"—he said, "The coats don't belong to me; they belong to another man"—I took him to the station, and charged him—next day the prosecutor came and identified the coats.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I am sure you are the man—you were twenty-five yards away from me when I saw you in the street—there was a lamp right over where you passed at the corner of Spellman and Chicksand Streets—I was twelve yards behind you entering the lodging-house—you took your boots and handkerchief off as I was speaking to you, your boots were just at your feet—another witness followed you—he touched me on the shoulder as I was bringing you out of the lodging-house and said, "This is the man."
Re-examined. I lost sight of the prisoner for just a second as I turned the corner of the door of the lodging-house—I have no doubt about him; I had seen him previously that evening.
Cross-examined. I followed you, and the constable came up—I did not tell the constable—I saw your face—I told the constable I saw you and another man—the constable did not tell me to say it was you—I was about two yards from you—I did not stop you because I was alone and there were two of you—I was afraid to go into the lodging-house kitchen; I waited outside.
Re-examined. I have no doubt the prisoner is the man.
The. Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he was sitting with his boots and handkerchief off, ready to go to bed, when two men ran into the lodging-house, and threw the clothes down and went into the yard, and that he offered to take the constable into the yard and show him the men.
GUILTY .*— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BLACKWELL. Prosecuted, and MR. KEITH FRITH. Defended Carter.
ROWLAND HARRY HILL . I live at 60, Burton Crescent—on 28th July I went into a urinal in Judd Street, and the two prisoners followed me in—my dress was undone when Carroll got me by the throat with his right hand, and took out a sovereign and half-sovereign from my left-hand waistcoat pocket with his left hand—Carter took 9s. 8d. in silver and bronze from me—I was senseless for the time being, with the clutch on my throat—I had been laid up with rheumatics, and had a bad leg for ten weeks, and could not run after the prisoners—I struggled with them—Carroll got away first, and Carter stopped and held me—when Carter went I followed him into Judd Street—he ran down the street, and was stopped in Hastings Street by a young man, and I charged him—I next saw Carroll between seven and eight the same night at the Police-station among seven or eight men—I picked him out—I have no doubt as to either of the prisoners.
Cross-examined by Carroll. I had not been in the urinal a minute before you came in and held me—Carter used no violence, but he robbed me—about ten minutes before the robbery I went up Mapledon Place and asked my daughter to have a glass of stout or bitter, and I then changed a sovereign—I spoke to no one except her; I did not give you three pots of ale.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I do not know that only 3s. 6d. was found on Carter—it all took place in about two minutes—I had never seen Carter before to my knowledge—I had a chance of seeing his face, because I turned round.
Re-examined. When I pursued him Carter ran; I called out "Stop thief," and he ran into Hastings Street.
JOHN STAPLES . I live at 91, Judd Street—a little before four on 28th July I was in Judd Street; I saw Carter running down Judd Street, followed by the prosecutor, and I heard cries of "Stop thief"—I ran after and caught and held Carter till the prosecutor came up—a constable was called and Carter was given into his custody—when the charge was read Carter said, "I have got nothing; I have done nothing; let me go."
Cross-examined by Carroll. I did not see you.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. Carter did not say I had made a mistake—there were no other men running; there are plenty of intersecting streets there.
JAMES CAMERON . (298 E.). On 28th July I was called, and took into custody Carter, who was charged with being concerned with another man in robbing the prosecutor of 30s. in gold, and 9s. 8d. in silver—when charged he asked the prosecutor what he had lost—3s. 6d. was found in his pocket.
FREDERICK MELLOR . (Detective E). I arrested Carroll on 28th July in Charlton Street, Somers Town, in consequence of a description I had received—I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of being concerned, with another man, in robbing Mr. Hill in the afternoon—he made no reply—at the station he said, "You will get me fullied"
(meaning fully committed),"hut Mr. Purcell will get me out of it"—I found on him 6d. silver, and 2d. bronze.
Cross-examined by Carroll. I did not say "Your pal has come it on you"—you came with me to Burton Cresent, and there you became violent for a minute or two, and we had to give you a shaking up—you were standing in Charlton Street outside a public-house.
Cross-examined by MR. KEITH FRITH. I have known Carter for some years; he gets his living by hawking—I never knew him to be in trouble.
Carrol, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
CARROLL** then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in July, 1892.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. CARTER— Six Months' Hard Labour. The Court awarded John Staples £1.
MR. CORSER. Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL. Defended.
ROBERT PARKER . I am a cellarman, living at 8, Cleveland Grove, Mile End Road—at 12.30 midnight on 11th August I turned from Mile End Road into Cleveland Street, and then into Cleveland Grove—there was no one in sight—I had gone ten or fifteen paces up the grove when I heard behind me, "Now for it," and I was blindfolded and laid on my back, and my watch and chain were taken—when I got up the prisoner was standing not a pace from me in the gutter—he could have struck me if he liked, and knocked me down, but he did not—I collared him and called for a constable—he threatened to knock my b—eyes and brains in if I did not allow him to escape—after about two minutes a constable came; I was still holding the prisoner—the bar of my chain was picked up next morning in the gutter—I did not see the prisoner actually attack me—I saw the other men as they turned the corner—if I had gone after them the prisoner might have knocked me down.
Cross-examined. Before I seized him he could have knocked me down and escaped—he acted as if drunk at the Police-station, but not before—there was nothing in his appearance to suggest that he had been drinking—he might have had a glass.
Re-examined. Cleveland Grove is a little blind turning with ten houses—there is no thoroughfare through it.
THOMAS FAGG . I am an engine driver, of 1, Cleveland Grove—on the night of 11th August I was indoors coming through my passage when I heard a cry of "Help! Police!"—my wife said something; I rushed out—I saw a straw hat lying in the road—I picked it up and went to the corner, and found the prosecutor detaining the prisoner, who was trying to get away—he must have gone about twelve yards from where it occurred—I asked him what was the matter—the prosecutor said he was one of the men—I said, "Are you sure?"—he said, "Yes"—I sent for a constable, who came in about ten minutes—the prosecutor said he had lost his watch and chain—the prisoner threatened us both, and said he would do for me, break my b—face, or something to that effect, and threatened the prosecutor; is well—I could see that he had had a drop of drink; but he seemed worse when he got to the station.
Cross-examined. He said, "I will make it hot for you"—the threats
were to induce us to let him go—he did not strike me—he used threats at the Police-station as well, in the presence of the police.
CHARLES BUCK . (9 J R). On Monday, 12th August, I saw a crowd in Cleveland Street—the prisoner was being detained by Parker and Fagg—I asked why they were detaining him, and Parker said he had just been knocked down and robbed of his watch and chain in Cleveland Street—I asked him if this man had anything to do with it—he said yes, he should charge him with being concerned with two or three men who had got away—I charged the prisoner—he said nothing in answer—I found on him at the station 1s. 0 1/2 d.
Cross-examined. He appeared somewhat under the influence of drink.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I know nothing about it."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY.* to a conviction of felony in February, 1891.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COLLINS. Prosecuted.
(The evidence was interpreted to the prisoner.)
JOHN HENRY WRIGHT . I live with my father at 5, Adam Street—on 14th August I left our house at five a.m., leaving the door shut, but not locked—I came back about 5.40, and opened the door, and saw a pair of brown boots in the passage on the doormat, one on each side—I looked about, and saw the prisoner creeping downstairs with his boots off—he bolted out of the door—I called a policeman who was ten yards down the street; he caught the prisoner about a hundred yards off, in the square—I gave him into custody—I lost sight of the prisoner when he turned the corner.
JAMES HARVEY . (223 D). About 5.40 a.m. on 14th August I was twelve yards past 5, Adam Street, when the last witness called me—I looked round and saw the prisoner coming out of the front door carrying his boots under his arm—he looked round and saw me, and ran—he took something from his pocket, and threw it away—I caught him—I asked him if he lived in the house he had just come from, and told him I should take him back and ascertain; he made no reply—he was not known there—I took him to the station—on the way back to the house with him I picked up these keys, which he had thrown away.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he only went inside to go to the w.c., and that he had no intention to steal.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in June.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
725. HENRY QUAIL (37), and THOMAS WRIGHT (30), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Phineas Isaacson, with intent to steal. Quail** also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in October, 1885, and Wright** to one in August, 1883. There were two other indictments against the prisoners for housebreaking, and out against
Wright for assaulting a policeman. QUAIL— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
WRIGHT— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. A. B. SMITH. Prosecuted.
GEORGE LUDWIG, GOMPRETCH . I keep the King's Oak, High Beech, Essex—on the afternoon of the 3rd August I saw the prisoner standing in Brick Lane with about a dozen men—when I got into Han-bury Street, which turns out of Brick Lane, I heard, "Up him now"—I looked sideways and saw the prisoner on my left-hand side in the act of striking me—two other men were about three steps further away; one taller and one shorter than the prisoner—he struck me on the nerves of the arm, and then grasped my watch and chain and pulled them out by force, and then pulled my shirt open to get my studs out—I tried to grasp him, and as I did so the tall man put his foot between mine and I fell—I ran after the prisoner through a brewery, and as soon as I came out of there I lost sight of him—I went directly to the police and gave information and told them how the man was dressed—a few days afterwards I received a telegram and went to the station—I was shown into the library, and when I was brought out there were about twelve men—I looked at them all, and the prisoner's eyes would not meet mine—when be tried the second time to get my studs I looked at his eyes and he seemed to squint, or to have something the matter with his eye—I had only that one chance of seeing his face—when at the station the prisoner did not look at me—I saw he had a blotch on his eye, and I told the sergeant to tell him to turn round that I might see his back, because I had more chance to see his back than his face on the day of the robbery—when I saw his back, and saw he had the same coat on, I identified him—I have no doubt he is the man—I did not see his face in Brick Lane—I value my watch at £25.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It was at twenty-five minutes to three that I lost my watch—the sergeant did not point you out to me; no one assisted me—the sergeant told me I must put my finger on the man I suspected—your coat was not torn when you robbed me; you were well dressed—it was torn when you were at the station.
CHARLES SMITH . (135 H). I received information of this robbery and a description of the thief, and on 6th August I took the prisoner, as answering the description, in the Whitechapel Road about 6.30—I told him what I should charge him with—he said, "I work at the docks"—he went quietly with me for twenty or thirty yards, and then said he would not go any further, and called on people standing round to rescue him—I asked Constable Ord to assist me—the prisoner struck Ord on the left jaw and between the eyes, and Ord got his thumb knocked up in the struggle—he was off duty for sometime in consequence—the prisoner gave me no address.
Cross-examined. I did not see you at 12.30—the first time I saw you was about 4.30 or 4.45.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in March, 1894.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday, September 17th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRAIN. Prosecuted, and MR. BIRON. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BUTLER. Prosecuted, and MR. BLACK WELL. Defended, at the request of the COURT.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, September 17th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. BODKIN. and RANDOLPH. Prosecuted, and MR. WOODCOCK Defended.
CHRISTOPHER HENRY PRATT . I am clerk to the Planet Building Society—in March, 1893, No. 3, Bridport Place, was to let, and John Aston (who was afterwards convicted in the name of Bowen) applied for it—references were given, and I wrote and got this answer in return (From J. Wilson, stating that Mr. Aston teas always prompt in his payments, and would be a desirable tenant.) The rent was £36—possession was given, but no rent was paid—I saw an oldish man when I called—I afterwards got this letter of May 12th: "Dear Sir, I have forwarded your letter to Mr. Aston, who is in the country; immediately on his return he will forward cheque for the rent. J. Wilson"—no rent was paid, and there was nothing to distrain on—Aston said that the premises were for paper-hanging, but I only saw a few papers on a string.
Cross-examined. I never saw the prisoner in connection with the transaction.
JOHN MEAD . I am carman to Mr. Francis, a coal merchant, of Pitfield Street, Hoxton—in May, 1893, I delivered a ton of coal at 3, Bridport Place—I cannot say who took them in—I got this receipt, signed, "Pro Aston Wilson, John Ward"—he told them not to shoot the coal in the cellar, but on the kitchen floor.
Cross-examined. I do not remember seeing the prisoner on the premises—I delivered it to a very tall man—the whole of this ticket is my writing.
EDWIN CARPENTER . I live at 66, Downham Road, and am collector to Boyce and Evans, estate agents—a man named Masters called on me in May about my house, and gave me this bill-head, "Aston Wilson and Son, 3, Bridport Place"(Giving his references)—I wrote to Mr. King, and got this answer: "Mr. Masters has been a tenant of mine nine months, and always paid his rent when due. I have no hesitation in recommending him as a tenant. JOHN KING."—I entered into an agreement
with Mr. Masters, and lot him into possession—the rent was to be paid monthly—the first rent was due on May 29th—I went there, and saw Masters—he said that we had not carried out the repairs, and he could not pay the rent—I said it must be paid; I could not let it stand—I called again in a few days, and he called in the sanitary inspector—work was done on the premises—I think the first contract was, £10 12s. 9d.—three months' rent was then due—he would not settle because he wanted more work done, and he sent the district surveyor and had the work condemned—I gave him notice in September to go at the end of October—I got these two bills, "E. C. 4" for £10 7s. 9d., and "E. C. 5" for 5s.—I saw a little business going on, brushes and paints and wall-paper—there was a perambulator in the back shop—there was only one book—he went at the end of the time, owing me over £16—I did not pay the bills, as the rent was over that amount.
Cross-examined. He never gave me orders, or made arrangements with me, or acted as principal—I formed the opinion that he was employed.
JOSEPH LINES . I am a perambulator manufacturer, of 47, Caledonian Road—in June, 1892. I was at Kingsland Road, and a man named Holmes called on me and said he had just taken a place in Kingsland Road, and wanted to know what I had to show—I supplied him with perambulators, value £17 13s. 6d., which were never paid for—I went there on June 18th, and on my way met Horne and some other men, and from what they said I went to Messrs. Roberer and Stock well, furniture dealers, and saw some of my perambulators—he showed me this invoice on the back of a card of A. Lewis, bedding manufacturer, Hoxton Street—the goods came to £13 5s.—I afterwards saw Wilson, who I have seen in Court—he gave me his card, "Lewis, Hoxton Street," and said he had Had some goods offered him for sale, and knowing my goods, he thought he might as well get them first-hand—I kept him in the shop, and went to the Police-station, but they did not send a man, and I had to let him go.
HENRY CHARLES ROBERER . I am one of the firm of Roberer and Co.—in June, 1892, Lewis called on me—I afterwards saw him at the Police-court and here—I forget what name I knew him by, but I pass his shop night and morning—he offered me twelve or thirteen perambulators which he had in a room—I purchased them, and the bill was made out on the back of this card: "Twelve perambulators, £13"—that was twenty-five discount off.
Cross-examined. I have been thirty-eight years in the business; it is common to bring furniture round in that way, but I won't say about perambulators—it is generally supposed that they belong to the maker, but he does not wish to be seen in the matter—I did not know him; I simply saw the invoice with the name turned down—I never saw the prisoner.
RICHARD STANDING . I lived at 30, Mildmay Grove, Islington—20, St. Paul's Place, Islington, belongs to me—it was to let in March, 1892, and a man named King came to me about it—I saw him here two years ago in custody. (See Vol. cxviii., pp. 929 and 941)—he gave me his address, 50, Alabaster Road—I asked for references, and got two, Walters and Aston—I wrote to them and got these answers (Produced)—he remained in occupation some six weeks; he paid no rent—it came to my knowledge that he was
making a brothel of the house, and I went to the Vestry about it; no business was done there—I got possession again.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner—I do not allege that the references were in his writing.
CHRISTOPHER GEORGE GIBSON . I live at 81, White Lion Street, Islington, and am in the employ of George Gibson—he was agent for Captain Penton, who owns 49, White Lion Street—we received these letters. (Asking for particulars of the letting of 49, White Lion Street, and offering to take it at £36 per annum, and enclosing references, Pro J. Masters, J. H.)—Mr. Masters was let into possession, and signed this agreement—application was made for the rent, and we got this letter of September 11th. (Stating that Mr. Masters was away on a contract job, but would meet the witness on Wednesday, at twelve o'clock, at his office.) I have seen the prisoner at the house and about the neighbourhood—they had some materials there, some wall-paper in the window, and some glass about.
Cross-examined. I never looked upon him as the principal; I thought he was a kind of handy man.
JAMES DOBSON . I am clerk to Inglefield and Field, solicitors to Captain Penton—I sent this letter to a man named Masters, and on January 10th received this answer in respect of 49, White Lion Street: "Gentlemen, I have been disappointed in money for work here, and will forward the rent on Monday next.—Pro J. Masters, A. J."—the rent was not paid—I issued a distress warrant, but got nothing—I do not know the prisoner.
CHARLES EDWARD DICKENS . I am a glass cutter and paperhanger, of 148, St. John's Road, Hoxton—in March, 1892, a man named Morton called on me and showed me this bill-head, "W. Hedges and Co., 49, White Lion Street, Islington"—he gave his name as Hedges—I saw him two or three times, and afterwards found that his name was Masters—he asked me to supply glass, and referred me to William Bird, Shackle-well Lane, Dalston—I did not write there, but executed the order the same day—there was another order for some putty and size; total £5 15s. 6d.—I then got this letter, "C. O. 2," for whitelead and size—I executed that, and produce a receipt for all the goods, signed Alfred Jay, November 3rd—I was paid £1 in a transaction where I would not leave the goods without the money; that leaves £4 15s. 6d.—about six p.m. one evening, at the end of November, the prisoner came and wanted me to supply him with Home rolled plate-glass—he said that he was Hedges' father—I said I would not supply the goods without the money—he said, "I will send the money," and in the morning Brown brought 10s., and said he would bring the other 3s. on delivery—I afterwards went to 49, White Lion Street, saw the prisoner, and asked if Hedges was in—he said, "No"—I said, "I have come for my account"—he said, "I will tell him when he comes in"—I never got a farthing of the £4 15s. 6d.
Cross-examined. The orders which I have not been paid for were given by different persons, who I believed to be Hedges and Co.—the prisoner did not give me any of the first orders—I supplied the goods he ordered, and was paid the whole 12s. for them—I have had no other transactions with the prisoner—he did not hold himself out as one of the firm, only as
Hedges' father, but he was always in the shop when I went—he did not look much like a clerk—I always saw him in the shop with one or two exceptions, but I did not take him as a principal.
Re-examined. He was looking at one or two wall-papers in the shop, which I had supplied, but they were tied up—they were not shown.
WILLIAM PEARCE . I am collector to Grover and Sons—in November, 1892, one of their houses, 1, Rockley Street, was to let—Aston came about it, and I afterwards saw him—he asked the rent, which was £60, and said he was an upholsterer—he gave Smith and Hedges as references—I wrote to them and received this answer from Smith. (Stating that he had known Aston many years as a trustworthy man and in a position to pay the rent.)—and this from Hedges and Co. (Stating that Aston rented a workshop of them and they found him punctual in his payments, and considered him in a position to pay the rent.) After that Aston called again, and this agreement was entered into—the rent was to be monthly; the first rent was due on Christmas Day—we applied for it three or four times, but never got it—I went to the address of the two references, but did not see either of them—49, White Lion Street, was comparatively empty, but there were two women there—they seemed to represent Mr. Hedges; they said that he was out at work—I heard that no business was carried on at 1, Rockley Street, and the keys were brought to our office before business hours in an envelope—I never got any rent—£5 was due at Christmas, which was not paid, and we did not get the keys for six weeks afterwards, so that there was about £12 10s. due—I do not recognise the prisoner.
GEORGE HENRY LEACH . I am one of the firm of John Thomas Wild, flock manufacturers, Oldham—in December, 1892, we got a letter from Newman and Aston, manufacturing upholsterers, of Rockley Street, Islington (Asking for samples)—we sent the samples, and then received an order for flock coming to £12 17s. 10d., which we sent, and applied for payment and got this answer. (Stating that they settled their accounts on the first of each month and ordering two tons more of flock.—Signed, A. J.)—we did not execute that order—we then got this letter. (For one ton of white flock)—we did not send the goods—I came to London about February, 1893, and went to 1, Rockley Street, saw the prisoner, and asked him for Newman or Aston—he said that they had gone out half an hour, but Charley, the foreman, would be in in a quarter of an hour—Aston came and said if I would call again he would get the account—I went with him and looked in sundry public-houses and hotels where he said that Newman was in the habit of going, but did not find him—he said that Newman was a married man and a niggardly man, and that Aston was the working partner, the practical man—we met Hedges that morning, and I got an order from him and another from Marks, and another from Rikels—Aston was in my company, and introduced them to me—I did not execute the orders—I went to the shop again next day, and saw the prisoner—Aston addressed him as "Old Brass"—he said he lived at 290, Shepperton Road; I went there, but the numbers did not go far enough—I went again to 1, Rockley Street, and saw the prisoner; there was no appearance of business there—he told me once that Newman was away in Birmingham buying machinery for turning purposes—I went back home and sent my account in; it came back through the Dead Letter Office—
I afterwards called on Harper and saw some of the goods there which I had supplied—when I parted with them I believed that a genuine business was being done, and that I should get paid.
Cross-examined. I never saw Newman; I do not even know that there is such a man—the prisoner told me his name was Alfred James, and the letters are signed "A. J."—I did not ask him for this order; it came by post—I did not receive an order from him when I was in London—I did not ask him to write an order for goods—I never understood that he was a principal, nor the other man either.
EDWARD THOMAS HARPER . I am an upholsterer, of 111, Hackney Road—in January, 1893, I carried on business in Drysdale Street, and Aston called on me, and showed me some flock, and wanted me to buy it, as he had a bill to meet that day—I bought 18 cwt. of cotton flock, and paid him £3 12s.—he gave me this receipt (Produced)—he said there was two tons—I showed it to Mr. Leach.
Cross-examined. I made no inquiries—he gave me his card and a printed invoice—I did not see the prisoner.
HARRIETT HOLLIDAY . I am the wife of Thomas Holliday, of 2, Rockley Street—that is opposite No. 1, which was occupied by Newman and Aston—they came there in a little covered cart—I could not see what things they brought, it was so dark—I saw no business done—"Newman and Aston, upholsterers" was put up—I saw bales for mattresses come there—they remained a little over two days—I met the prisoner with a barrow full of bundles going away from the premises two or three days after the stock had come—I saw a machine delivered, and went across to the carman and said something to him, and he went on the bridge and saw the agent and superintendent, and they put it into the cart and took it away again—I afterwards saw in Court Aston and another man who I had seen on the premises—I have frequently seen the prisoner there; sometimes he would stop for an hour or two and go back again—he had the keys—when they left I saw a big van at the door covered over at eleven p.m., and only saw them afterwards in Court—the prisoner came there frequently, but I do not know what he did.
Cross-examined. I never watched them at all—I saw no business done—it was a sort of coster's barrow that I saw the prisoner with—it would not take a large number of bales.
THOMAS BUGDEN . I am an india-rubber manufacturer, of 1, Highbury Grove, Islington—I own 64, St. Paul's Road, Highbury, which was to let in 1892, and Thompson, who I afterwards recognised in Court, called on me about taking it—he gave the name of Austin, and gave me two references—I wrote to them and received these two letters, (One of these was from J. Masters, of 81, Kingsland Road, stating that Mr. Thompson had been his tenant, and paid his rent regularly, and no doubt would make a satisfactory tenant.) I let him the premises on a three years' agreement, and received the first quarter's rent at Christmas, 1892—a complaint was made about the house—I reported it to the Vestry, who took proceedings, and I obtained possession of the house—I never got the quarter's rent—I believed the reference to be genuine.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prisoner.
to give my opinion on certain letters and documents—I have before me the prisoners actual writing, with which I have examined the exhibits in the case—"W. P. 2" is in the prisoner's writing; that is the letter signed "Hedges and Co.," giving a reference to Mr. Grover—"T. B. 2" is also the prisoners writing; it is signed "Masters," giving a reference to Thompson for the house in St. Paul's Road—"J. G. 1," which is on Masters' bill-head, I believe to be the prisoner's writing; it is addressed to Mr. Gibson, and signed "Pro J. Masters, J. R."—it may be "J. H."—"J. G. 2" is in the same writing, and is signed "Pro J. Masters, J. H."—"J. G. 7" is signed "J. Hardy"; it is the same writing, and states that Mr. Masters is away on a country job—"E. H. B. 4" of May 12th, 1892, is the same writing; that is signed "John Wilton," to the landlord of 3, Bridport Place—"J. M. 1" is a receipt for a ton of coal by John Mead—that signature is, I believe, in the same writing—"J. H. £1" is in the same writing; it is signed "Newman and Ashton"—"J. H. 2 and 3" are both signed "Pro Newman and Ashton, J. J."—"E. C. 5" is two accounts for work in the prisoner's writing—"J. D. 1" the answer to Mr. Dobson, signed "J. Masters, A. S." is the prisoner's writing—"C. E. P. 3" is a receipt in the prisoner's writing, signed "Alfred James"; that I believe to be the prisoner's writing, and also "C. H. P. 2"—I have had these documents before me and carefully examined them before to-day—I can give the reasons upon which I formed my opinion.
Cross-examined. I am certain as far as I can be that this document "C. H. P. 2" is the prisoner's writing. (This was signed "J. Wilson" stating that Mr. Aston was prompt in his payments, and would be a desirable tenant.)
CHARLES RICHARDS . (Police Inspector). On July 30th, about one o'clock, I saw the prisoner at King's Cross Station—I said, "I believe you were with a man named Masters at White Lion Street, Islington?"—he said, "Yes; he used to pay me so much a week. I was aware he got the perambulators, but I was not with him at the time"—he gave his name, Alfred Rafferty, and said he had no fixed home—I was engaged in a case last year, when Masters, Wilson, Bowen, and Renton were tried—after the prisoner was in custody I saw him write this paper, "T. R. 1," which was handed to Mr. Guerrin.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was merely the clerk to Masters."
G. H. LEACH. Re-examined by MR. WOODCOCK When I saw the prisoner in London he said he was only the clerk, and that it was not a paying position, and he was going to leave as soon as he could.
GUILTY. on all Counts except the Fourth and Fifth. He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at this Court in April 30th, 1883, of obtaining money by false pretences. He had also been sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude in Ireland.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
pounced upon by four or five men—they got me on the pavement, and kicked me about my head—I had a severe kick on my eye—I had no chance of seeing their features, but I saw them run away, and saw a policeman catch the prisoner—they knocked me almost insensible.
JOHN THACKERAY . I am a cabinet maker—on the morning of August 25th I was in the City Road, and saw three or four men holding the prosecutor round his waist—they all started and ran—I had the prisoner in my sight all the time.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were not helping the prosecutor, you were holding him, and when I fetched the police you were just running away.
THOMAS HARRIS . (363 G). On the morning of August 25th I was in the City Road—Thackeray came to me and made a statement—I went to where the prisoner was and saw four or five men running away—the prisoner was one—I caught him and the prosecutor charged him—he said he was not there and had nothing to do with it.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he saw two men knock the prosecutor, who was very drunk, down and he went to his assistance and got him up, and the same two men knocked him down again, and he was then taken in custody.
E. E. LOGGIN. Re-examined). I was only knocked down once—four or five men pounced upon me—I was sober.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS. Defended Waite.
CHARLES JACKSON . I am a general dealer, of 21, Bride Street, Barnsbury—on 13th August I and my brother went into the Coach and Horses; Cooper came in, and I had just called for half a pint of ale for him, when the prisoners came in and called for a pot of ale—the landlord would not serve them—they began talking about a fight that occurred about three weeks before, and at which I was present—they asked me where the fighting men were, and then they rushed at me; they hung round me—I got a stab across the eye, and one across the arm; I don't know who stabbed me—I saw my brother take this knife away from Simmond; my brother, Cooper, and others held them—then a policeman came in and took them into custody.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I did not say or do anything to provoke Waite; I pull down houses—ten years ago I did a bit of fighting; I do not now—I am just turned thirty-nine—nine years ago I got nine months., at this Court for highway robbery; I was with four other men then, of whom my brother, Henry Jackson, was one; he got nine months also—I swear I never had a row with Waite before; I had not seen Simmond before—they might have been at the fight—I did not chaff the prisoners in the public-house—I never knew Cooper do any fighting; he is a general dealer—I don't know who the two or three other men were—no beer was thrown at Simmond; it was knocked over—I did not knock it over—Cooper and my brother and I held Waite.
Cross-examined by Simmond. I did not throw any beer over you.
HARRY JACKSON . I am brother of the last witness, and live at 11, Hope Street, St. George's Road, Holloway—I am a dealer—on 13th August I was in the Coach and Horses with my brother—Cooper came in, and after him the prisoners and another man came in, and started kicking up a row about a fight—they asked my brother where his fighting men were, and rushed at him with two knives—I saw Simmond run this knife across my brother's wrist—I got hold of Simmond, and got him on the floor, and took the knife from him, and gave it to a policeman who came in—after I started getting hold of Simmond I did not see any more of my brother—there was a general scuffle—I saw Waite with a knife, more like a cats'-meat man's knife, when the attack was on—both prisoners rushed at my brother with knives—the beer was upset when the scuffle was on—the constable got hold of Simmond and then of Waite; I helped him till the other constable came.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. I am twenty-nine—I got nine months' here for highway robbery with my brother—I pull down houses—I saw Waite with a knife; I did not see him give it to anybody—Cooper is a respectable man and a friend of mine—I have only known Waite by sight—I was at the fight—I did not back either of the men—the man I knew won—I suppose Waite must have been a friend of the man who lost—I believe the friends of the man who lost had a row with my friends—I had no bad feeling towards Waite—I did not ask him to fight me on the Sunday before this happened—I and the constable held him—my brother, Cooper, and I did not attack the prisoners, throw beer over them, and begin the fight.
Cross-examined by Simmond. I saw you run a knife across my brother's wrist—the fight was three weeks before this happened.
GEORGE COOPER . I live at 6, Pleasant Passage, Holloway Road—on 13th August I went in the Coach and Horses—Charles and Harry Jackson were sitting down—Charles asked me to have a glass of ale; I had it, and then the prisoner and another man came in and asked for a pot of ale—they did not get it—I got up to get my glass, and someone said, "They have got knives"—there was a rush, and I turned round and saw Charles Jackson bleeding from the eye, and I saw Waite hand a knife to the third man, who went away—I got in between Waite and Jackson, and the policeman came and took Waite in charge.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. Waite gave the knife to the other man after the row had begun, and when Jackson was bleeding—I am a friend of Jackson—he pulls down old houses—I have known him for years—I may have talked about this case to him since I was before the Magistrate—I did not know he had had nine months for highway robbery.
JOSEPH RANDALL . I live at Stowe Cottage, Elm Grove, Holloway, and am a wood-chopper—on 13th August I saw the prisoners together in Hornsey Road, about 200 yards from the Coach and Horses—they had two knives; this is one of them and the other looked like a half worn out fish knife; it ran up to a point—I went into the Barley Mow; they went towards the Coach and Horses.
Cross-examined by Simmond. Waite did not ask me to have a drink—I left you, and went to the Barley Mow, and did not see you again till you were in custody.
GEORGE RICHARDSON . I am landlord of the Coach and Horses—the Jacksons came in about five on 13th August, and I think Cooper was with, them; I believe they were served—the prisoners came in; I was at the other end of the bar—I heard high words, and I heard them call for a pot of ale—I shook my head to my wife not to serve them, and I heard them quarrelling, and I came to the front end of the bar, and said, "Stop your row, get outside"—they took no notice—I went to the door to get a police-man, but, not seeing one, came back, and saw Harry Jackson take this knife from Simmond—Charles Jackson, who was bleeding from the fore-head, and Cooper were holding Waite—a policeman came in, and Harry Jackson passed the knife to him, and he passed it over the counter to me, and I took it to the Police-station.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. There were high words between the prisoners and the Jacksons—I cannot say who began it—these people are strangers to me.
GEORGE WHITE . I live at 428, Liverpool Road, and am divisional surgeon—at six o'clock on 13th August I was called to the Hornsey Road Police-station to dress Jackson's wounds, and I did so—he was suffering from an incised stabbed wound over the right eye, and a Superficial jagged and lacerated wound across his wrist, deeper in the centre than at the sides—this knife could have produced that wound; it has a rough edge—the wound over the eye was caused by a sharp instrument; it was in a dangerous position—it just escaped going into the eyeball; it struck on the eyebrow, and the edge of the orbit prevented it from going into the eye.
Cross-examined by Simmond. You had a lump on your jaw and a wound on your forehead; I dressed your head.
GEORGE FULLER . (387 Y). On 13th August I was called to the Coach and Horses—I saw the prosecutor holding the two prisoners, and his brother had this knife in his hand—I took it and gave it to the landlord—the prosecutor was bleeding from a wound over the eye and a wound across the wrist—he said, "We charge these men with stabbing me"—I told the prisoners the charge and took them into custody—I had conveyed them fifty yards when they became very violent and struck me in the chest—with the assistance of bystanders, I detained them till assistance arrived, half an hour afterwards—I ultimately got them to the station, and charged them—Waite said, "We shall b—well get five years for this. Never mind, they can do what they like. This is all through Mr. b—Filo, who had a fight for a quid"—Simmond did not say anything.
Cross-examined by MR. SANDS. No assistance came before I got them away from the public-house—when I came up Harry Jackson was holding Waite, I believe—Waite was very excited.
Simmond, in a written defence, stated that he and Waite were attacked first, and that he thought Jackson got wounded by falling to the ground.
GUILTY. of unlawful wounding. —WAITE**† then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in December, 1893, and SIMMOND**†to one in December, 1892.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.Tuesday and Wednesday, September 18th and 19th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
732. SAMUEL GEORGE BROWN (23), WALTER TAGG (20), HENRY BROWN (18), GEORGE WILLIAM WHITE (23), and ALFRED BROWN (20) , Stealing four pieces of silver, value £1,200, of Alfred Henry Lancaster and others. Second Count, for feloniously receiving the same.
MR. C. F. GILL. Prosecuted; MR. MUIR. Defended the Browns and Tagg; MR. SHERWOOD. Defended White, at the request of the COURT.
THEOPHILUS WILLIAM JOHN HALLETT . I am assistant manager to Messrs. Lock, Lancaster and Co., silver refiners, owners of the premises of Lock's Wharf, Limehouse—on Friday, 27th July, we had a quantity of silver in a safe on the premises; I think altogether there were ten pieces—the safe was in No. 2 Refinery—it was fastened by a Chubb lock, and a padlock on an iron door—it is a brick chamber—there was also a bar and a padlock—this (produced) is a photograph of the interior of the room, and of the fastenings—there is no window—I saw the silver there just as it was thrown in a heap before it is cold—it was thrown in on the Friday evening, the 27th, about five o'clock—I fastened the door myself at 5.30—there is a small iron ledge, which comes up about three inches from the floor, and the door closes against it, so that nothing can get in or out under the door—there is calcined bone-dust used, to prevent the silver adhering to the iron mould—it is used in the refinery, and there was some on the floor of this room—it adheres to the silver—these (produced) are the blocks of silver in the rough as they come out of the mould—the dust is not like whitewash—I put the keys in my pocket at 5.30, and kept them there till eight at night—I then received the keys of the outer door of the refinery from the foreman, also the keys of the door leading from the refinery to the engine-house, and I placed them with the other keys and put them all in the pocket of an old coat in a wardrobe in the inner office—I then locked the wardrobe door and left the key in the door, and locked the office door and took the key away with me in my pocket—it was my practice to leave the keys in the coat until the Monday; the office is a place in the yard, not difficult to get at—next morning, Saturday, the 28th, I arrived at the works at 9.30, and remained about the works; about eleven I was in the office and about the works—I went away then and came back at 2.30, and remained till four, when I finally left; everything to all appearance was all right then—I had locked the door at 11.10, and it remained locked till 2.30—when I left at four I locked the office and placed the key in an envelope, sealed it, and addressed it to Elliott, the foreman, and left it with the watchman, Holtoun at the gate in the Bridge Road—he does not live there; he was there twelve hours—he was day watchman, and
was on duty from six in the morning till six at night; bat on this occasion he came on duty at six, and remained, he had orders to do so—the Saturday was a holiday to the employes, and their beanfeast, and there were only about eight men there up till about 2.30 in the afternoon—they would all leave then, but they would leave three men behind, the gate-man and two firemen, to look after the fires; the furnaces are kept going all night—I was not there at all on Sunday; I came back on Monday morning, the 30th, at 9.30—I then received information, and in consequence I went to No. 2 refinery and to the safe—I found four blocks of silver missing; these (produced) are two of them—the four would represent about 7,000 or 8,000 ounces of fine silver, worth about £1,200 sterling—the door of the safe was closed, but not locked—the police were communicated with, and officers came and made inquiries—I examined the door and found both the Chubb's lock and the padlock were broken—I did not notice at the time the way in which they had been broken—they were afterwards seen by an expert—I examined the doors of the refinery to see how access had been obtained; I placed my finger between the door-post and the door, and shot the bolt back; I could then get into the refinery—there is a lock on the top of the door, and a bolt at the bottom; the door was in halves—this is a photograph of the outside door of the refinery; it is like a stable door, in two parts—I did not lock that door when I went away on the Saturday; the foreman did. (A plan was put in, and the witness explained on it the position of the doors)—I do not know any of the Browns—I know "White, as a night watchman employed by Mr. Drew, a lighterman, to watch the craft moored at Lock's wharf—we employ Mr. Drew—he works for other persons as well—White should only pass backwards and forwards to the barges—he had nothing to do with the works, his business would be at the river; he had no business in our yard—when on duty he could come in at Bridge Road and go down to the quay, and he would leave in the same way—there is a slipway on the other side of the coal stores, and from there you can get to the front gate, to Bridge Road, leading out of Limehouse—when I went into the strong room on that morning I saw Sergeant Dicker pick a button off the floor—this(produced) is it—I found the keys where I had left them, in the pocket of an old coat—the office door, which had been secured, was open when I got there—the foreman had opened it—the wardrobe key was still there, as I had left it—I think it was unlocked, but I will not be quite positive—I did not examine it—I found the keys of the Chubb lock and the padlock as I had left them, but not the other keys with them, as the watchman had taken them out to unlock the refinery—it would be the watchman's duty to give them to the foreman—this photograph shows the position of the silver and the missing bare—there were ten pieces altogether, thrown in a heap; this shows the position they would be in the moulds, as they are run out.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I have been in the habit of keeping the keys in the coat pocket when I have had charge of the works from Saturday to Monday—I have done that for three months preceding the robbery, when the manager was ill—there was a robbery from this refinery about eighteen months ago—the manager, Mr. Borden, then had charge of the keys—I don't know where they were kept then; I suppose in his pocket; I don't know for certain—I could not say that
that robbery was effected by means of the keys—I know there was a robbery, but I can't say how it was effected; I was not there at the time—two lads, Davy and Boyne, were employed in the office besides me, and also young Mr. Lancaster, one of the firm—there is only one office, but there is a partition from the front to the back—none of those persons would know where the keys were kept, not even young Mr. Lancaster; the two foremen would know, William Howe and Phillip Elliott—Elliott was the one with whom I left the sealed envelope; it was sealed with the firm's seal, in wax—I did not examine the office door on the Monday; nor did anyone that I am aware of—I could not say who arrived first on the Monday morning—I was there all night on Monday; the office was open all night—I believe it was locked on Tuesday evening; it was my habit to do it—I could not swear that I did—I have locked it many times since—I did not find anything wrong with the lock or any damage to the door—the outer gates are eight or nine feet high; a person could climb over—they are secured by padlock on the inside—the place is never left; a watchman is always supposed to be on the premises—there is a small wicket which is always locked from the outside—from the wicket a person could reach the padlock and undo the gates; there are always furnacemen there—a person on the outside could get over from the water side by climbing the fence—there is a heap of coals on each side of the fence, which they could get over into the works; they would then have to get into the office—as far as I know they must have got in with a key—there is only that one key which I left sealed in the envelope; with that key they could get into the lower door of the refinery; that is the door which could be opened with the finger; the bolt of that door is visible from the outside—then they would have to get into the strong room—I think the person must have known the place—there was one unlocked door between the engine-house and the refinery—it was reported to me that that door was unlocked; it was found open, and the padlock on the ground; that was the one close by the safe—it was Howe's duty to lock that door; the key was not left in the padlock; that door would give access to the strong room, but it was locked inside—Howe had possession of that key; there were two keys to that padlock; the other key would be on the same bunch as the key of the safe, in the old coat pocket—there is a sliding door which leads from the engine-room into the works; that was left open; that engine-room adjoins No. 2 refinery—there are no furnaces in that room; they were not going; they were idle—that door was left open for the men who were repairing, going in for their tools; there would be no one there that night—no unnecessary doors were opened—I think the robbery was effected by someone acquainted with the premises—I do not know any of the Browns or Tagg—about 90 or 100 men are employed on the works; I daresay fifty or sixty of them would know the situation of the silver in this room; it may be more—from what I saw of the premises on the Saturday I think they were safe then—Holtom was the watchman on duty at four on the Saturday afternoon; the man to whom I gave the envelope—he would go off duty at six in the evening; he would be relieved by Bamford, the night watchman, but he was not on duty that night—Holtom was ordered to be there all night—when he came off duty I gave him instructions to remain, as
Bamford was away on holiday till six on Sunday evening, when he would relieve Holtom—the two furnacemen would be there after four on Saturday, and they would be relieved by two others at six on Sunday evening—I do not remember asking Holtom for any explanation about the key of the office—he was not called as a witness before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I know White as a watchman passing through the works for the past six or seven months—he was not employed by us, but by Mr. Drew—he moors the craft at our wharf for our goods, and for others; he is in a responsible position—he has to watch the craft moored there; that is all I know—he usually arrived at the wharf about two on Saturday, and usually remained there till Monday—he would have a cabin—after the discovery our inquiry went upon the footing that the entry was made by breaking the locks—the expert was called in, I think, on the Monday—I think I heard on the Monday that he was of opinion that keys had been used; I heard it from himself on the Tuesday, and his opinion was taken—until the expert came we thought that the doors had been smashed open—I considered that the keys were in a place of safety, because no one but the two foremen and myself knew where they were kept—I don't remember questioning Howe and Elliott with reference to the keys—the first thing I did was to inquire of Elliott whether he had received the key of the office in the sealed envelope; he said he had—I did not ask Howe for any explanation—I asked the men to account for themselves and they did; they gave me satisfactory answers—Holtom did not know where the keys were—the sealing of the key was not a regular proceeding, it was exceptional—I don't remember doing it before; I had placed it in an envelope, but not sealed it, only with gum; that is, when I have not handed it to the foreman myself—I sealed it on this occasion because I had to leave it with the watchman overnight, and the foreman would not be there till eight on the Sunday morning—in the meantime the envelope would remain in Holtom's custody.
By the COURT. The beanfeast made a longer interval between the regular work—I daresay the key had been passed in that way to a watchman eighteen or twenty times—there was no concealment about it—it had happened several times in the case of both watchmen and both foremen—the watchman would know that the office key was in the envelope—I don't know that he would have the opportunity of seeing to what use the foreman put it.
By MR. SHERWOOD. White would have to go through the yard to his post—he would not have to go to the refinery at all, and I never saw him there—if he had been found loitering about there he would have been sent about his business; at least, I should have done so—I have never seen a button like this before—I should not say it was a common button—I daresay it is a cheap one—I do not know anything about White's pay—I know now where he lives, I did not before—he had this coat on when I found him at his work on the Monday evening—I suppose it is a common coat, one that a watchman would wear when at work—there were two buttons missing—I have occasionally gone down to his place when he was on duty—I have had to give him orders—I always found him prompt, a good watchman, always on duty.
Re-examined. When the police came on the Monday morning, they made inquiries and took statements from the different persons, and from that time the matter was placed in their hands, and they conducted the inquiry—I have seen White about the premises from time to time, when on duty in the evening.
WILLIAM HOLTOM . I am employed as gate watchman at Messrs. Lock and Lancaster's—my duty was to stay at the gate—on Saturday night, 28th July, I was there—I left about 7.45 p.m., and went home—I returned at 8.30—after that I did not go away from the gate at any time, but stayed there all night—there is an office there for me—I saw Larkin and Woodcock, firemen, that night—my wife brought me some beer during that night; I cannot say the time—no one else brought me beer—I saw White on that Saturday night at the gate—I do not know who let him in—he brought me some beer; he did not have any himself—I was in my box all Saturday night and all Sunday and Sunday night, about the works; I was not off the premises—I don't remember anyone coming for White on the Saturday night—on Saturday afternoon Mr. Hallett gave me an envelope with a key in it; I locked it in a box in my office, and put the key of the box in my pocket, and on the Sunday morning I gave the envelope to Mr. Elliott, sealed and in the same state as I had received it from Mr. Hallett—during the time I was at the gate I did not see anyone pass through carrying anything—the gate was locked—I left Larkin in charge of the gate on the Saturday night for about three-quarters of an hour from 7.45, when I went home—I saw or heard nothing on the Saturday night that attracted my attention.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I gave the envelope to Mr. Elliott about nine a.m. on Sunday—the seal was then unbroken—I do not know any of the Browns or Tagg—I know the refinery nearest the office, and where the furnaces are—if I was near the furnaces I could hear any noise like smashing up a lock with a crowbar or hammer quite plainly—I was at the front entrance gate; I have a sort of box close by the gate—that is rather nearer the refinery than the furnaces are, and I could hear more plainly there any smashing-up of iron—I did not hear it—I was awake all night—I did not sleep at all, neither Saturday night nor Sunday morning—I was perfectly sober—my hearing is quite perfect, I think.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I cannot say whether White brought me beer before or after I had been home to supper—as a rule he went out every night to his supper—he went at all times; there was no pet time for him to go out—it was in the usual course of things for him to go out about the same time to his meals—I did not notice how long he was away; there was nothing to strike my attention—he went in and out alone in the usual way—I did not see him with anybody near the gate—I asked him to bring in some beer; he did not take a can with him—he was away about half an hour perhaps; that was not an extra long time—I cannot say how far he lived away—he was scarcely ever off the premises, as he was supposed to be about there within call—I exchanged duties with Bamford on this night—I did his spell as well as my own—I relieved him, and owing to our arrangement I remained on duty till six o'clock on Sunday night instead of coming off at six on Saturday night—doing thirty-six hours from Saturday morning till Sunday night is not the usual arrangement—I do not think it ever happened
before; but it was the beanfeast time, and I did not go to the beanfeast, and I did it to oblige Bamford, who did not go to the beanfeast, but elsewhere—as far as I know, it was done that ho might take a holiday—no foreman was there on the Saturday night—it was a usual thing for me to leave a fireman watching for me while I was away—I had instructions to leave a man on the gate while I went to supper—that was the only time I went off the premises—with the exception of three-quarters of an hour I was there the whole time, and I never went to sleep, and nothing attracted my attention, and I heard no noise—when I went away for the three-quarters of an hour I left Larkin to look after the gate—so far as I know he kept my post while I was away—I did not leave my post vacant and go away for any distance at any other time; not for a moment—at twelve o'clock I was there on duty—about midnight White came to me from the wharf for a drink of water in the ordinary kind of way—he often came and paid me visits and had little chats—he had no conversation with me then as to the noise of the works—fitters were repairing something in the boiler-house that Saturday night—two of De Ritter's fitters came at nine p.m. on the Saturday—I let them in after I came back from supper, and they were there all night—I let them out about nine next morning; they had finished then, they told me—when White came to me at midnight, he came alone in the ordinary way from the wharf—we had no conversation about the men at work on the boilers—I could hear them hammering the boilers—that noise continued throughout the night—it did not make much noise, but I could hear it—I had an ordinary chat with him; he was there half an hour, perhaps—it was unusual; I never had anything to say to him as a rule—I have talked to him before for twenty minutes or half an hour, but it was rather a long conversation on this occasion as the men had gone to their beanfeast—I did not hear any noise while he was talking to me at that time; the fitters were at work at the time.
Re-examined. As a rule, I had nothing to say to White; he passed in and out, and I never had anything to say to any of them—I paid for the beer he got me on this night, and he also gave me some beer which I did not pay for—I did go away at eleven o'clock—I went as far as Garvel Street, West India Road—I went home with my wife—I live at Penny Fields—I went away from the gate at eleven p.m. with my wife, as she was not well—she brought me some ale—I was away ten or fifteen minutes—I don't know if two firemen got in while I was away—I did not let them in.
GEORGE THOMAS LARKIN . I am a furnaceman in Lock and Lancaster's employment—on Saturday night, 28th July, I went on duty a little after six—I found Woodcock on the works—I left the premises about 11.30 that night with Woodcock—we went to the corner of the public-house but did not go in—we came back to the works about 11.40—we knocked to be let in, but got no answer—after waiting about two minutes, or a little longer, we kicked with our feet, and then I climbed over the gate—there was no one in the watchbox—I opened the gate, and let Woodcock in—the gate has a little gate inside it which opens with a spring—I remember De Ritter's men working at the boilers—I let in a stranger—I have seen him this morning, he is Ennever—I let him in about eight, when I was in charge of the gate, after Holtoun had gone to supper—I had no idea
who Ennever was then—I am sure he is the man I let in—he asked to see White—shortly after Holtoun came and relieved me—after I climbed over the gate at eleven, and let Woodcock in, I went towards the works to get my supper, and I heard someone knock at the gate—I did not see Woodcock open the gate—I and Woodcock left the works at six next morning—Woodcock was with me during the night—at six next morning, when we left, the other shift came on—Holtoun was still at the gate then.
NEHEMIAH WOODCOCK . I am a furnaceman, employed by Lock and Lancaster—on this Saturday evening I was there with Larkin—about 11.15 p.m. I heard the noise of the people coming back from the beanfeast and came out of the premises; Larkin came out just before me—we came back together, and Larkin got over the gate (as the watchman was somewhere outside) and let me in—after that I heard the watchman knocking at the gate and let him in—I was in Larkin's company all that fright, and left with him next morning at six.
PHILIP ELLIOTT . I am a foreman in Lock and Lancaster's employ—on 28th July, between 7.30 and eight a.m. the doors of No. 2 refinery were all right—I was only there for a few minutes that day—on that Saturday another foreman (Howe) went to Clacton, and did not come back till Monday—he had leave—I returned between eight and nine a.m. on Sunday—I had no occasion to go into No. 2 refinery—I passed the doors and noticed nothing—I came on duty at midnight on Sunday—the fitters had finished, and men were cleaning the boilers—I went almost all over the place—I got the office key on Sunday morning in an envelope, pealed up, from the gate—the office door was all right on the Sunday morning, and so were the outside doors of the strong room, as far as I could see; I put my hand against them to see they were all safe—I had no occasion to go into the refinery till about two a.m. on Monday morning—I then noticed the middle door leading into the engine-house from the refinery was open—I tried the padlock on the strong room and found it broken, it came away into my hands; it had just been hung into the snag again—I went to the office and got the safe key and other keys; they were where I expected to find them, in a coat pocket, hung up in the office—I found the safe key would not go into the lock—I pulled the strong room door and found it came open—looking into the strong room I missed four blocks of silver like the two produced—the door of the strong room is iron—I saw no marks on that door, apart from the lock—the furnacemen who were working on the Saturday night would be close against No. 1 refinery, a considerable distance from No. 2—the men who worked at the boilers were at the other end; they would have no access to the refinery.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. When I received the key in the envelope between 8.30 and nine on the Sunday morning I looked at the envelope; the seal and envelope seemed to be all right—I took the key out then—I kept the key till I went to the refinery at two a.m. on Monday—on two or three previous occasions I had had the key handed to me in an envelope in that way—I at once went into the office on receiving the key—the watchman's box is almost directly opposite the office door—I have had occasion to go to the refinery, and use the keys at night time—we always keep a little gas alight in the office—you go up three or four steps to the office
which is on the ground floor—there are no curtains to the window, and if anyone looked through the window they could see me go to the cupboard where the keys of the safe were—if the watchman, whose box overlooks the office, were looking he would have the opportunity of seeing me go and get the keys of the safe—there are shutters half way up the window, but a person could look over the shutters—on receiving the keys on the Sunday morning I went to the office and took the keys from the coat in the wardrobe.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I should think each block of silver would weigh 1 1/4 cwt. or a little more—four of the ten were taken—they were carried into the strong room hot and dropped on the floor anyhow—the wooden shutters to the office window only go half way up the window—anyone standing on the steps and looking over the shutters would be able to see what I was doing in the office, and see me going to the wardrobe and taking out the keys—it was broad daylight when I got the keys—I went back and put the keys back in the same place within half an hour—at night the works are lit by a good gas light—I did not get the keys to see if the place was safe; I went to look at one of the fires in the refinery—I did not pay periodical visits to the strong room during the night—having found out that something was wrong, I looked a second time and counted to see what was missing—I was two or three minutes at the strong room, and soon found out that something was missing—I had a light from the engine-house—I locked the place up and reported the loss—I went home a little after six, and then came back about the time I thought the manager would be there—when I found at two a.m. on Monday that the safe had been entered, I told my fellow foreman to let the managers know as soon as they came; and when I came back the managers were there before me—I do not recollect seeing White on Sunday during the daytime—he may have assisted me once or twice on Sunday morning.
T. W. J. HALLETT. Re-examined). I gave the key to Holtoun in one of the ordinary office envelopes, sealed with the firm's seal and wax—the envelopes and seal were in the office, not locked up—I addressed the envelope to Mr. Elliott—anyone having the office key could get into the office and reseal the envelope, but the foreman would understand if the direction were in any other writing.
T. W. J. HALLETT. Re-examined). The manager, Mr. Borden, lives at the office—he was away on a holiday at the time—I believe a maid-servant and a relative of Mr. Borden were there—the office window was fastened by an ordinary catch.
GEORGE COWLEY . I am a stoker in the employ of Lock and Lancaster—on Sunday morning, 29th July, I was working there—at eleven p.m. I went into the engine-room which adjoins No. 2 refinery, and noticed this padlock on the ground, five or six inches from the door-post—it is a padlock which ought to have been on the refinery door—the door of the refinery was open a few inches—I did not suspect anything at the moment—I picked up the padlock, and put it in the staple—Mr. Elliott afterwards spoke to me.
JOHN GIBBONS . I live at Bow, and am a locksmith employed by Messrs. Chubb—I have examined this lock which was on the strong room—it is a Chubb's latch-lock, and is usually used for a street-door; it is not fit for an iron door, and a great blunder was made by the person who fixed it on the door—it is a five lever—we have a different class of lock for an iron door—the lock is very much broken, I should say with a hammer and chisel—I think it must have been opened with this key, and then afterwards broken with hammer and chisel—to break a lock, to the extent this was broken, in the door first would have left considerable marks on the door—that would be the case if it was an iron door—the damage must have been done after the door was opened—I saw a short jemmy found there—I think the lock first had a blow with a hammer; there are marks of a hammer on the bolt-head, and again on the far end of the lock, then the jemmy would be used—the lock was still on the door when I saw it—I was shown a piece of the lock at the Police-court—these two padlocks are very common ones—a skeleton key would fit this one; the other is a lever and could not be opened by a skeleton key—the key to one of Chubb's locks will not fit any other; with ordinary lever locks the same key may fit other locks.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. Mr. Hallett showed me a padlock in the refinery, on the strong-room door at Messrs. Lock and Lancaster's, which, in my opinion, had been opened by a key, and not forced open—that padlock was securing the doors then; although the main lock was broken, the padlock was still in use.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. A padlock was in use; the door was closed, but could not be fastened.
JOHN WILLIAM ENNEVER . I live at 31, Northey Street, Limehouse, and am a bargeman—White is a friend of mine—we worked together for Mr. Drew, a lighterman—on 28th July, about 8.30 p.m., I went to look for White at Lock and Lancaster's premises, as I had certain written orders for him from our employer for work for the same evening—I knocked at the gate from the Bridge Road for about a quarter of an hour, and then Lark in let me in—I found the gateman was not there—I went clown the road inside, and turned off, and went over the coals, and got down to the wharf—I called for White three or four times, and looked for him on the barges, but could not find him—I returned towards the gate, and when I got near the gate, I saw White about five yards from the gate—he had what appeared to be blotches of whitewash on his clothes; on the front and back, too—I gave him the written orders, and went out of the works with him—there was then no one at the gate—that would be about nine—we shut the gate behind us—we went to the West India Dock Bridge, and I left him going over the bridge to get down on to his barge—I said nothing to him, nor he to me, about the marks on his coat.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. Mr. Drew does a good deal of business—White would have to guard and be responsible for very valuable property at times—that night he had about fourteen barges there loaded with silver lead; I had seen them—I was in and out the barges, when he was on duty there—I have on several occasions to go with written orders for him, at all hours—I should say he has been with Mr. Drew three or four years—he is a married man with three children
—he lives at 43, Park Street, Limehouse—I had not been before that evening with orders—I am a lighterman's labourer—I have been employed by Mr. Drew just on four years—I met White just inside the gate—I was with him about five minutes—I did not notice his coat particularly—I was not struck by the marks—some of the barges were whitewashed, and you get marks of it on your coat, because you chuck your coat anywhere when you have work to do—these marks looked like blotches of white-wash, as if it was wash which had dried on—it was an oldish coat—the marks looked as if they might have been on for three or four days or a week.
Re-examined. I saw White on the Sunday; he was wearing the same coat; the white marks were on it then—that was the last time I saw him—I saw the patches of white as I walked to him; you could not help seeing them—I did not mention it to the police till the week afterwards.
By the COURT. It would be part of his duty to go about the barges, and go down and count every barrel, and see that everything was there—Mr. Drew is having all the barges whitewashed now.
By MR. SHERWOOD. The police came to me and asked me questions, and I made a statement—I was asked if there was white on his coat, and and I told Inspector Hellish about it.
WILLIAM BAYARD . I am a foreman in the East and West India Dock Company's employ—I have charge of the boat slip adjoining the prosecutors' work—sclose up to the slip are the coal stores, and at the top of the slip are gates leading into the Bridge Road—the gates are fastened by a bar and padlock—on Saturday afternoon, 28th July, the gates were safely locked—there would be no one there on watch on that Saturday night.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. The padlock that was broken was a common one fastened to the bar of the gate, and lock and hasp were broken off—the constable found the gate open.
JOHN WILLIAM WOOD . London and India Dock Policeman, 137). At one p.m. on Sunday, 29th July, my attention was attracted to the gate leading from the Bridge Road to the slip, and I found the staple had been forced, and the padlock broken—the bar was lying on the ground.
GEORGE MELLISH . (Inspector, K). On Monday morning, 30th July, this matter was put into my hands, and I made inquiries with regard to it—I was present when the strong room was examined, and saw Sergeant Dicker pick up this button from the floor inside the strong room—we found the lock of the safe broken inside, and a portion of it outside—from that I infer that the lock was broken after the door had been opened; it lay on the strap of the stretcher with which the workmen use to carry the hot blocks of metal; it was lying about three yards from the door—the padlock was also broken—on the Monday morning I took a statement in writing from White, which I produce—I examined all the workmen to find the truth—I said to White, "We are police-officers; I wish to have a statement from you as to your movements on the Saturday and Sunday," and he made this statement, and I think he signed it. (Read: "I started work on Friday, six p.m., watching six of Mr. Drew's barges. All of them were moored to the wharf. Sometimes I sit on the wharf, at others on the craft. At eight p.m. I went through the works, out the gate, home to supper. I returned at 8.45. I then remained on the wharf and
the craft till 6.30 a.m., Saturday. I went out with George Goodchild and another lighterman; had a drink at the Union public-house. We all three at once returned. Goodchild and the other man then left by the tug Renown. The man whose name I do not know had come in by the gate. He asked me out to have the drink. When going out of the gate we met Goodchild, and asked him to come back with us. He did so. I then left the gate about 7.10, Saturday morning. There was nothing unusual on the wharf or about the craft on Friday night. I returned to work at 2.30 p.m, Saturday. Met my mate, J. Hawkins. He asked me out to have a drink. We went into the Union; had some ale. We were away about ten minutes. While at the Union we heard the whistle of the Renown blown; hurried back; Hawkins went home. On reaching the wharf I found the Renown had brought in two barges. I moored them. The tug went away, and brought more barges. Shortly after Jack Hannaway brought me my orders to go into the West India Dock to bring out the barge Trowbridge. I did so, bringing her alongside the wharf at nine p.m. I stayed till 10.30 p.m., then left by the gate; went to the Union; had refreshment; returned at 10.50 p.m.; Holtoun let me in. When I left at 10.30 Larkin was at the gate with him; when I returned Holtoun was by himself. When I left about 8.30 p.m. Mrs. Holtoun was in the box talking to him; she had brought him his food. This was the only occasion I saw her on Saturday night. When I returned at 10.50 I went on the craft, and remained there till 12.30 a.m., Sunday. I came up the yard to the water-pipe near the watch-box, I then spoke to Holtoun. I heard a row outside the gate. Neither Holtoun nor myself went outside, but, looking through the pigeon-hole, I saw that there were three persons—two males, one female. One was the man we call Jerry, a labourer in the firm; the other man and his wife. I could not catch what the quarrel was about. The three went in the direction of Millwall. I returned to the craft, remained there till about three a.m., then came up the yard, went up on the stage, and spoke to both Larkin and Woodcock. We were speaking about them having their work well forward. I stayed with them about forty minutes on and off. I then went back to the craft, pumped the barges out, came back into the yard at 4.55 a.m., spoke to Larkin and Woodcock, went to the gate, spoke to Holtoun, and went out to the coffee-shop in Emmot Street; it was not open. I walked about Three Colt Street till 5.30; then met a lighterman, who told me he had picked up one of Mr. Creed's barges adrift. While we were talking, the man who used to work for the Regent's Canal Company at the little lock came up and joined us. We then went into the coffee-shop; had breakfast They stopped at the coffee-shop. I returned to the yard; was admitted by Holtoun. This was just after six a.m. Larkin and Woodcock were then about to leave the yard. I went to the barges, connected the spelter and bars of lead, came back to the gate, met Speed coming in, returned to the furnaces with Speed, walked round the yard, and about 8.30 a.m. Mr. Elliott and Mr. Tyler came in and Webb. I assisted them to lift the test into the furnace. This brought us on to nine a.m., Sunday. I then left the yard. Holtoun was still at the gate. I went to the Burdett Road, and returned to the yard at 10.45 a.m. I passed through the gate. Holtoun was at the gate. I stopped in the works and the craft till 8.50 p.m., Sunday; left for ten minutes, went to City Arms, had a drink,
returned to the premises, and stayed till 7 a.m., Monday. I left the gates. Holtoun was then on duty. I heard no unusual noise on any night. Any noise can be easily heard. My wife called and kicked at the gate about 11.30 p.m., Saturday. This could be easily heard. De Hitter's men were working all night in the boiler-house Saturday night. During my employment at the firm I have not at any time been in this first refinery room, except on one occasion about five or six weeks ago. This was when I assisted Elliott, Bamford, Webb, and Tyler. I don't know where the safe is. I do not know where the silver is kept.—(Signed) GEORGE WILLIAM WHITE.")—from the 30th July I was making inquiries with reference to this robbery, assisted by other members of the force—at the time White made this statement I asked him to take his coat off; he did so, and I have it here—I saw that two buttons were off the coat—I asked him to leave the room, while I and Mr. Hallett examined it—when he was afterwards arrested, on 15th August, I saw that three buttons were off, and only one left—he was not wearing this coat then; I found it in his house—he was wearing it when the statement was made, and it was returned to him without comment—I did not tell him that a button was found in the refinery—on Sunday morning, 5th August, I called at his house and said to him, "I have called respecting the statement you made on Monday; some of the silver has been traced and recovered; you will now be detained, pending inquiries"—he made no reply—he was not charged at that time—I took him to the Police-station—I there examined the coat, and I said, "White, when I took your examination on Monday there were two buttons on it, there is only one now"—he said, "Yes, one came off yesterday"—I said, "When we examined the safe on Monday we found a button inside, and on comparing it with your coat, we found it matched"—he said, "You know there are more buttons than one, sir"—that was all he said—when I first saw the coat, on 30th July, I did not notice any marks of white upon it, nor on his arrest—he was charged about a quarter to seven on that night, with Henry Brown and Tagg, who had been previously arrested and detained in the waiting-room—Henry Brown sent me a message—I went to him—he said he wished to show me where some of the silver was buried, and to make a statement—I took him to 28, Salter Street, Limehouse—that would be between 500 or 600 yards from the prosecutors' premises—it is a dwelling-house in the occupation of the father of the Browns, a builder—adjoining the dwelling-house there is a railway arch, used as a workshop, leased with the house, and forming part of it—the soils live in the house and the father lives somewhere else—going to the house with Henry Brown we passed through it into the railway arch, and he pointed out a place to me; some police officers were already there—on digging at the place pointed out one of these blocks of silver was taken out; it was in about the centre of the arch—one piece had been already found in the same arch, and was then at the Police-station—on finding the second piece I went back with Henry Brown to the Police-station, and he then made a statement which I took down, and he signed it—I witnessed it—this is it. (Read: "The statement that I now make is a voluntary one. My name is Henry Richard Brown. I live at 28, Salter Street, Lime-house. I also work there for my father. About ten a.m. on Sunday, 29th July, 1894, Walter Tagg and I were standing at door of my father's
workshop; the door is in South Street. Two labouring looking men came up pulling a costermonger's barrow. The tallest tapped me on the shoulder, and said, 'Hi, cock, do you mind putting this under the ground in the shop for a few days, and we will call for it some day next week.' I said, 'What stuff is it?' I lifted a cement sack which was on the barrow, and then saw the two blocks of metal. I said, 'What is this?' he said, 'It is only some lead.' I said, 'It is funny-looking lead.' I felt it, and found that it was too hard for lead. I said, 'It is too brittle for lead.' He said, 'Oh, it is all right, it is only a kind of pewter mixed with it; that's what makes it look so brittle.' Each of the men then carried one of the blocks into the shop, and dropped them on the ground. The tall man then gave me a sovereign, and said, 'Here, cock, take this; give your mate half; we will spare you more next week when we come for it.' I then dug a hole in the ground immediately under the doorway of an inner door, and rolled the block over and over into the hole. Tagg helped me to dig the hole. When I was covering the block over with earth, the tall man said, 'That's not deep enough.' Tagg then went on to the w.c. I then tilted the block out of the hole, and dug it deeper. The hole was then about two feet deep. The tall man said, 'That will do.' I then tilted the block into the hole again, and shovelled the earth over it, and two pieces of stone slabs on top. The man then got some sand that was in the shop; the sand was wet. He got a trowel from the bench, and with it he pressed the sand round the stones, and shook some cement from our bags over the sand and stones, so as to make it set hard, and not look suspicious. He then said, 'Bury this one over in that corner,' pointing to near my father's tool chest. I said, 'No, I won't put it there, it is too near my father's tool chest. If anything is wrong they would blame ray father for it.' The little one said, 'Come to that you can put it inside the chest; there is no harm in it; nobody will come here for it.' I said, 'No, I will put it down here; if you don't like that you can take it away again.' He said, 'Oh, all right, put it there then.' I then dug the second hole nearly in the centre of the shop, and tilted the block into it, covered it over with the earth, and trod it down. The tall man then said, 'Now, mind what I have told you; if you tell anybody, don't you put your foot outside the door no more, because I know you.' He then said to the other man, 'Come on, Jim let us clear away sharp.' He said to me, 'Good morning, cock; shut the door after us.' They then left the shop, and pushed the barrow down the street. Between the time of digging the first hole and the second I went to the Warrior beer-house, Limehouse Causeway. The man we call Pooley was standing at the door. I asked him for change of the sovereign. He gave me silver. I went back, and gave Tagg ten shillings. He said, 'Do you think it is all right?' 'I said,' I don't know what to think shan't tell father.' I have not seen the men since, but I had seen the tall man previously about Lime house Pier. I first heard of the silver being stolen on Thursday, and then thought that what we had buried in the shop was the silver. When I saw the reward bills on Saturday, I said to Tagg, 'That's right enough, that's them what we have got under there,' speaking of the two blocks. Tagg then said, 'I'll have nothing to do with it.' The police came at 3.30 a.m. this day, and arrested Tagg, my brother-in-law, Andrew Street, my two brothers, Samuel and Alfred, and myself.
Sergeant Lambert told me I was arrested, concerned in stealing the silver. I made no reply. What I have now said is the truth. I have said this to clear my father and brothers, because they know nothing about it. The description of the men is as follows:—First: Age forty to forty-five; height five feet ten inches; complexion, hair, moustache and side whiskers dark; dress, cord trousers and vest, black diagonal cloth coat turning green, P. and O. peak cap broken in two, heavy boots, dirty appearance. Second: Age, twenty-five; height, five feet seven inches; complexion and small moustache, fair; hair, brown; dress, grey trousers, melton coat and vest, heavy boots, black felt hat, respectable appearance. (Signed) H. Brown.")—This was on the Sunday night—he was not alone when he made it—I think other officers were in the room—on the Monday Tagg desired to make a statement—he did so, and I took it down, and produce it. (Read: "The statement that I now make is a voluntary one. My name is Walter Tagg. I have been sleeping at 28, Salter Street, for about one week. On Sunday, 29th July, 1894, about 10 a.m., Henry Brown and myself were standing at the gate of the shop in South Street. Two men came up with a barrow, and said, 'Cock, do you want to earn a sovereign?' We said, 'What for?' The tallest man said, "To hide this away for us.' I said to Henry, 'Shall I dig a hole?' Henry said, 'Yes,' and we both helped to dig a hole under the doorway. We then dug another near the grindstone. I went to the w.c. I could just see the corner of one of the blocks of metal under a sack on the barrow. When I returned from the w.c. I saw that the barrow was empty, and that both holes had been filled in. I saw one of the men give Henry the sovereign. He ran up the Causeway to change it, He came back, and gave me half a sovereign in gold. On leaving the yard they both said, 'We will come back next week for the stuff. Keep it quiet; don't tell anyone; we will give you another sovereign when we come for the stuff.' They then went away. I changed my half-sovereign at the Sports public-house when they opened at one p.m.; Henry and I went in together. We each had half a pint of ale. I have not seen the men since. I had never seen them before. I did not know about the robbery of the silver till I saw the reward bill up in Single's window in Limehouse Causeway. I read the bill, and it then came into my head that the stuff that the men brought to the shed was the silver that had been stolen. I went to 28, Salter Street, saw Henry, told him that I had seen the reward bill about some stolen silver, and that I thought that the stuff we had in the shed was the silver. We never said anything to anybody about it. When the men brought it they told us it was lead. We then thought there was no harm in it. When I was arrested I did not tell the police about it. The description of the men is as follows:—First: Age, about thirty; height, five feet eleven inches; complexion, hair and moustache, dark. I cannot say how he was dressed. He had a dirty appearance. Second: Age, about twenty-six; height, five feet six inches; complexion, hair and slight moustache, fair. I did not notice his dress. He had the appearance of a labourer. I was working nearly all last week as a labourer for Mr. Brown, sen. (Signed) WALTER TAGG. Witness, George Mellish, Inspector)"—On Monday, 6th August, the five prisoners were all charged with stealing and receiving this silver—when it was read over, White said to me, "What about the gateman?
Ain't you going to fetch any more in? What business had he in the Railway Tavern at eleven on Saturday night, when the two furnacemen had to get over the gate?"—that was all he said—I saw no button similar to the one found in the safe among the workmen at the prosecutors' premises—the father of the Browns was taken into custody on Sunday morning, the 5th, and was detained for some time in the same waiting-room as the three sons and Tagg—he was afterwards taken before the Magistrate and discharged—there was a formal remand for a week—he was on bail, then the case against him was withdrawn.
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. Andrew Street, who married Brown's, daughter, and lived in the same house with Brown and Tagg, was also taken into custody—he was not charged, only detained on Sunday and part of Monday—during the Sunday I believe Brown, the father, and the three sons, and Tagg and Street were all detained in the same room—they were there that night; they had no beds, only chairs and tables—there was nothing against Street, except the fact of his living in this house—I did not arrest him—on the Monday I saw them all together in the waiting-room—they were charged on Monday evening, about seven or eight, I should think—I think it was earlier than a quarter of an hour before midnight—before they were charged Tagg made his statement—Henry Brown made his statement in my official room, to which other persons are not invited except by my wish—none of the other prisoners were present—Tagg made his statement in the same room; no other prisoner was present—I wrote down both statements—I asked them questions in the course of their statements—Henry is about eighteen years old, Alfred and Tagg about twenty, and Samuel twenty-three.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. When in making their statements the prisoners ran on I stopped them, as I wanted it in narrative order—White's statement was a pretty full one, full of details—on the Monday and the following days I took a dozen statements or more—White was arrested on the following Sunday—I had seen him during that interval of a week; the thing was being talked about during that week in that part of the world, and there would be rumours that someone had made a statement, and someone else another statement—I cannot say if it was known that the gateman had been absent from his duty on the Saturday evening—White said he had been when he was charged—White would know it if he had seen him, or if Holtoun had told him—the two furnace-men knew he was away—I called the workmen in separately, and took their statements—I went to the premises at ten a.m. on Monday, and did not leave till I had got all their statements the following morning—when I charged White, the present prisoners and Brown, the father, were under arrest—six people were in the room—White having made a full statement the week previous, said, "Aren't you going to fetch any more in?"—I cannot say if he knew that a good many people had been under suspicion, and that some had been arrested; that was all he said—I did not notice the tone in which he said it; the sarcasm did not irritate me—there is now only one button on his coat—on his waistcoat there are a different kind of button; three buttons are missing—there were two buttons on his coat when I arrested him, and when I gave his coat back to him—the top button had gone by the following Sunday—when I arrested him he was wearing a better coat, which he has on now—it was
Sunday and he was not wearing his working clothes—I did not search the employes—I looked round on the Monday, and saw no buttons like this—I gave the sergeant orders to look at them, and they were scrutinised—I did not search their houses—I did not make inquiries at places where men of this class buy their clothes—I cannot say if it is a cheap sort of button; it is made of a composition—the cotton left when a button came off one month ago would not be cleaner than that of a button that came off at another time; if the coat were twelve months old it would not make much difference in the thread—when White's attention was called to it he said he had lost more buttons than one.
By the COURT. I made inquiries at the Railway Tavern; I have no witness from there—I cannot say if this is a ready-made coat—there are a large number of second-hand clothes shops in that neighbourhood, which is a poor one—from its appearance it is a coat that would be made in the East-end in many thousands, perhaps; I cannot say if they would all have the same kind of buttons—I think it is a French button—all the prisoners gave their statements voluntarily—a reward of £150 was offered altogether; I think £50 was offered for the arrest of the thieves.
FREDERICK DICKER . (Detective Sergeant, Criminal Investigation Department). I was with Hellish at the premises on the morning of 30th July—when examining the strong room my attention was attracted by this button on the floor, nine or ten inches in, lying on the bone dust—I afterwards examined the coats which the workmen were wearing; I could not find any similar button.
Cross-examined by MR. SHERWOOD. I was there on Monday, 30th July, from ten a.m. to three or four the following morning—I found the button shortly after ten a.m., on our arrival—I was there with Mellish—it was the first official visit of the police—I believe Mellish arrested White at his house; I was not there.
GEORGE LAMBERT . (Detective Sergeant, K). On 5th August I went with Inspector Rowbottom to 28, Salter Street, Limehouse, and in a front room on the ground floor I saw Tagg—I said, "I am a police officer; I am going to take you into custody for being concerned with others in stealing four blocks of silver, value £1,200, from Lock and Lancaster's, on 28th July"—he said, "I don't know anything about any silver, and don't know what you are talking about"—he put on his trousers, and attempted to run upstairs; he was stopped by Leach—we went upstairs, and in a back room on the first floor I saw Alfred and Henry Brown—I repeated to them the charge I had made to Tagg—Alfred said, "I don't know anything of what you are speaking about; I have had nothing to do with any silver"—Henry said nothing—they and Street were taken to the station, and detained there—I searched the house and yard with "Leach and Rowbottom—I found nothing—I then searched the wash-house—under the railway arch, and under the doorway of the wash-house leading into the other part of the arch, I found, buried in about sixteen inches of loose earth, under two flagstones, the largest block of silver—I got it out and took it to the station, after searching the other part of the arch—almost immediately before we got into the station, Samuel Brown was brought in by Leonard—I showed him the block of silver, and told him where I had found it, and said he would be charged, with the others, with stealing it—he said, "I don't know
anything about that; I never put it there, strike me dead if I did"—I showed it to Alfred; he said, "I have never seen that before; what is it?"—Henry said, "I don't know what that is; you did not put it there, nor did I. I know who did so"—Tagg said nothing—the Browns were detained together in the same room at the station—at seven the same Sunday morning I arrested Brown, the father—about eight o'clock that evening Samuel Brown said to me, "Mr. Lambert, you are not going to detain father, are you?" (He called me behind the table where he was sitting with his father mid brother.) "He had nothing to do with it, and don't know anything about it; he did not know it was there. You know he don't live or sleep there" (referring to Salter Street)—Alfred heard what his brother said, and said, "No, sir, father don't know anything about it; he don't live at Salter Street"—I know he does not—Samuel, Henry, Alfred and Tagg had been locked up together for about sixteen hours before Samuel and Alfred made that statement about their father at eight o'clock, and they had plenty of opportunity of talking to Tagg and Henry—next day, the 6th, they were all charged—on 17th August Samuel Brown sent for me; he was on bail, and I went to his house—he said, "Do you think I will get put away? I will tell you about it if you could get my brothers out of it, and me, too, but I am afraid they would get put away for a long time. I shall not get convicted, but if I look like it I will come the whole lot."
Cross-examined by MR. MUIR. I arrested the Browns at three a.m. on Sunday, 5th August—I did not find the second block.
MR. MUIR. stated that, he should not attempt to defend Henry Brown and Tagg on the charge of receiving, after the statements they had made. Upon an intimation from the COMMON SERJEANT, MR. GILL. id not feel justified in asking the Jury to convict Alfred and George Brown.
GEORGE MELLISH . Re-called). I produce White's waistcoat; I can't say whether it is the one he was wearing—I got it from his house when I arrested him—it has a different button from the coat; it is of the same material as the coat—the coat is ordinary pilot cloth—there are three buttons off, two of one sort and one of another; the two are rather of a noticeable sort—I produce the reward bill offering £150 for information as to the thieves or the receivers.
G. T. LARKIN. Re-called). About a quarter to eight I was at the fire—Holtom came and asked me to take his place at the gate, and I did so till something about half-past eight; I don't think it was for so long as a quarter to nine—Ennever says he knocked for a quarter of an hour; that is not so, he might knock; it was barely a knock—he was not there one minute—Woodcock was attending to the fires at that time—I left him to do the furnace work; I don't believe I was away a quarter of an hour; when I returned I could not get in.
charge of the gate I remained looking after the furnace; I was there when he went away and when he returned.
J. W. ENNEVER. Re-called). I got there about a quarter past eight, it was quite light then—I knocked at the gate a quarter of an hour, kicking with my boot—I got in about a quarter to nine, it was then getting dusk—I met White when I came back; he was on the premises, about five yards from the gate, inside.
ALFRED and SAMUEL GEORGE BROWN— NOT GUILTY ; WHITE— GUILTY. of stealing. TAGG and HENRY BROWN— GUILTY of receiving . Strongly recommended to mercy on account of their youth.— Judgment respited.
MR. HOME. Prosecuted; and MR. PURCELL. Defended.
Taylor received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUTTON. Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL. efended.
After MR. HUTTON. had opened the case, the COMMON SERJEANT. ruled that, even if the facts stated by MR. HUTTON. were proved, they would not constitute an offence under the Statute, and he directed the JURY. to return a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS. Prosecuted.
HENRY ADAMS . I am a butcher, of 5, Calabria Road, Highbury—Mr. R. Smith, of 35, Baalbec Road, is a customer of mine—on Wednesday, 29th August, about 5.30 p.m., the prisoner came in with this cheque, and said, "Will you oblige Mr. Smith, of 35, Baalbec Road, with change for this cheque"—I did not recognise the prisoner—I saw the endorsement, "R. Smith," and I said, "I see he has endorsed it"—the prisoner said, "Oh! yes; that is all right"—the cheque was on the Capital and Counties Bank, Brighton branch, drawn in favour of R. Smith, and signed "Mirom"—I gave him the money—the prisoner left, and went in the direction of Baalbec Road—I called my man, and spoke to him, and he followed the prisoner—I sent to Mr. Smith—I next saw the prisoner at the station—he said in my presence that he had met a man named Simmonds outside, who asked him to change the cheque.
RICHARD SMITH . I live at 35, Baalbec Road, Highbury, and am a jeweller—this is not my endorsement on this cheque—I did not send the prisoner or anyone else to change it; I never saw it before I was before the Magistrate—I have no account at the Capital and Counties Bank—I do not know anyone named Simmonds.
FREDERICK ASTON . (183 N). On Wednesday afternoon, 29th August, I was off duty in plain clothes about a mile from Adams's shop, and I saw the prisoner detained by Mr. Adams's man, who had jumped off a pony and caught him—Adams's man told me the prisoner had cashed a cheque at his master's shop, and he thought it was wrong—I said to the prisoner, "What about this cheque?"—he said, "I have cashed a cheque;
as I was passing the shop a man asked me if I would cash it, and he would give me half a crown for my trouble"—I told him he would have to accompany me to the station, and he did so.
FREDERICK DOLDEN . (Detective Sergeant N). I saw the prisoner in custody at the station—when told he would be charged with forging and uttering a cheque, he said, "I got the cheque from a man named Simmonds, a racing man, address unknown, in Calabria Road, at 5.30"—I wrote that down, and asked him to sign it, and he did so—he gave his name and address, but declined to give any account of himself.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate, and in his defence stated that Mr. Simmonds, whom he had known for some time, gave him the cheque to cash, and he did so in good faith.
GUILTY .— Four Month's Hard Labour.
736. JOHN WILSON (40), and JEANNE WILSON (29) , Stealing five priests' copes and other articles, and 2s., in St. John's Roman Catholic Church, Islington, and afterwards breaking out. Second Count, Receiving the same goods and money.
MR. O'CONNOR. Prosecuted.
CHARLES RYAN . I live at 16, Linton Street—I am a warehouseman—I am honorary sacristan of St. John's Roman Catholic Church, Duncan Terrace, Islington—I look after the vestments and assist the priest—on 25th May I assisted the priest, who used one of the vestments, and I put it back, and I saw that all the other copes were safe in their places when I left about 9.45 after locking up the church—I identify this property (Produced)—three copes, seven hoods, a silver pyx, the silver-plated top of a wineglass, a pair of boy's skates, two razors, and three stoles were missed on the Saturday—I was told of the robbery the morning after it happened, and I went round in the afternoon—the church was standing open through-out the day.
EDMUND RYAN . I am the assistant priest at St. John's Roman Catholic Church—just before seven a.m., on 26th May, I went to the church for the first mass, and discovered a robbery had taken place that morning or the night before—the sacristy was all in confusion; the drawers were out and empty, and things strewn on the ground—I identify this as part of a cope, and these other things are part of the vestments of our church, which we missed—Father Pike is the rector of the church, and the custodian of the property, which belongs to the congregation.
JAMES SMITH . (Detective Sergeant). On 26th May I went to St. John's Church, and found the screws had been taken out of the box of the locks from the inside—someone must have concealed himself overnight before the church was shut up, and then have taken off the lock and opened the door, gone through the yard into the outer yard, and taken off the screws of another lock, and got into a back street—the doors were open when I saw the church on 26th—on the 11th August, after the prisoner's arrest, I examined some contribution boxes, and found marks which corresponded with this knife—I arrested Jeanne Wilson as she left Hollo way Prison, and told her what she would be charged with—she said, "I don't know anything about it."
the prisoners had occupied I found this property, the ornaments, copes, this knife, a bunch of keys, a bottle of aquafortis—I found one of the gilt copes had been tested with aquafortis; nobody was in the room—I only know from information that the prisoners had occupied it—at nine o'clock on 11th August I met John Wilson and arrested him—I said I was a police officer, and that he would be charged with being concerned with a woman with whom he had cohabited in the back parlour at 10, Under-wood Street, City Road, with stealing vestments and other articles from St. John's Roman Catholic Church, Duncan Terrace—he said, "What does my wife say?"—I said, "I cannot answer that question"—when we got to Islington Police-station I produced this package, which I said I had found in the room occupied by him—he said, "It is no good; it is only metal" (meaning the embroidery); "I would do anything to get my wife out of this"—when the charge was read neither of them made any reply.
Cross-examined by John Wilson. You did not tell me you did not know anything about it.
Cross-examined by Jeanne Wilson. You did not tell me that you knew nothing of it, and that your husband did not either—I said if I found van owner for the property you would be charged—I found out about 11th July that it was the property of this church.
MARY ANN STEWART . I live at 10, Underwood Street—the prisoners lived in the back parlour there, which was searched by the police, who found this property—they came in April, and were living there on 25th and 26th May as man and wife—they came in the name of Weston; they both bore the same name—our house is about a quarter of an hour's walk from the church.
John Wilson, in his statement before the Magistrate, said that he found the property in the street.
ALFRED GOULD . Re-examined.) On 11th July I asked Jeanne Wilson (for reasons not connected with this case) "Are you a married woman?"—she said, "No, I am not; I have only cohabited with Weston"—that was the name they bore at the lodgings—had she said he was her husband I should probably have taken steps against him.
Cross-examined by Jeanne Wilson. You did not say you had been married about eight years.
EDMUND RYAN . (Re-examined). I am certain the prisoners were not members of my congregation—we have no knowledge of them—we have a number of side chapels in which it would be very easy for persons to secrete themselves.
John Wilson, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
Jeanne Wilson stated she picked up outside Barrett's factory gateway a brown paper parcel containing the articles between seven and eight a.m. on 28th May, and that they thought they were theatrical costumes and articles.— GUILTY of Receiving.
JOHN WILSON** then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in October, 1889, in the name of James Jackson, at Preston.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. JEANNE WILSON*— One Month's Hard Labour.
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted.
The details of this case are unfit for publication.— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 18th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SAFFORD. Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS. Defended.
CHARLES ISMAY COLTSON . I am secretary of the Actors' Benevolent Fund, 8, Adam Street, Strand—I received this letter in May: "Post Office, Northampton. Dear Sir,—Enclosed you will find a short application for assistance from the late Mr. Austin Ainslie, who left us all stranded fifteen miles from here; we walked here, and the ladies pawned their articles to obtain the means of getting away, and ask for assistance; we came here with busking, but we cannot stoop to that.—ROBERT BARTON. busking means singing in public-houses—I believed that representation, and sent ten shillings to the writer, for which I received a receipt, and forwarded a form of application, which I received back, tilled up, with this letter. (Stating that he had had a loan from the fund, and just as he hoped to pull himself round, lie was robbed, and promising to repay every farthing.)—I knew that he had written to Mr. Allen Beaumont—I received the form of application, filled up and signed, "Robert Barton." (This stated: "Married, five children, ages from eight to one; absolutely penniless. Must send something to my children and wife, having been left stranded by a bogus manager")—I believed that and sent him £1—I have a receipt for that in his writing.
Cross-examined. He gave me references to well known actors, and they recommended him—in consequence of what they said I knew he was a bona fide actor—he has borrowed money of the society before—I am not prepared to say he did not repay one loan, but he has been helped several times—I know from the neighbours that he has a wife and five children—Mr. Bidgood, who he refers to, is a well-known manager—the prisoner enclosed six applications from the members, one from each—they first applied for emergency, and I sent 10s. in these forms to each applicant, and I think £1 on the second occasion—the prisoner asked for £4 or £5—as a rule when a bona fide actor applies we give him relief—a good many professional actors set out with rosy hues and come back penniless—the profession is very much over-crowded.
Re-examined. I would not have sent the emergency sum if I had not believed he had been left stranded.
ANNIE ELIZABETH TAYLOR . My husband is a butcher, of Putney—on April 5th I saw an advertisement in the Age: "Wanted, a lady and gentleman for a long tour. Travelling expenses paid. Costumes provided. Very small premium.—Austin Ainslie, 218, Kennington Road, London."—my daughter wrote and had a reply, making an appointment—I took her there—we asked for Mr. Austin Ainslie, and followed a little girl to a room over the shop, and saw the prisoner sitting at a table with papers
before him—he said, "Take a seat"—I did so, and asked him if he was with his own company—he said, "Yes," he had travelled six years with them—I asked if he was likely to fail—he said, "No," he had always been successful—I asked how large his company was—he said, "Fourteen," and only wanted one lady—I asked if he was a married man—he said, "Yes, my wife always travels with me, and one of my little girls takes a part, and my wife shall write to you once a fortnight"—I asked where he was booked to; he told me many places—I said I did not like that—he said it was not settled; he was going to Northampton, and was to be at Oxford on Bank Holiday, and the first rehearsal was to take place at Northampton—my daughter entered into this agreement with him. (Signed, "Austin Ainslie")—he wrote it in my presence on the Saturday when I went to pay the money—I paid him three guineas; he wanted more, but he came down to £3 3s.—if I had not believed his statements I would not have let my daughter go, or paid the money—I fetched my daughter in May; he had left her and two more of the company.
Cross-examined. I swore an information at the Police-court, and told all the material facts upon which I relied—I afterwards went before a Magistrate, and told my story—Mr. Safford examined me at the Police-court—I have seen a solicitor—I told the Magistrate that the prisoner said that his wife always went with him—I paid the £3 3s. because she had never been on the stage before, and he was to give her lessons—another man was sitting at a table, and I guessed that that was his partner, but the prisoner did not say so—I made inquiries, and found he left his partner starving—he is not here, be ought to be; he is the principal one—I asked him if he was genuine—he took my hand and said, "On my oath, Mrs. Taylor; I would not disgrace my father's name."
MAUD EDITH TAYLOR . I adopted the name of Winifred for stage purposes—I went with my mother one Friday to 218, Kennington Road in answer to an advertisement, and saw the prisoner there in a front room over the shop—I knew him as Austin Ainslie—I did not see anyone else there—he said he was going to start a company, and he wanted a premium—he had a map there of the places he was going to—I said I would go, and he wrote out a copy of an agreement and we said we would go again on Saturday—he said he would give me a twelve months' engagement—I asked him if he would pay if he did not play—he said he would pay every week, playing or not playing—he said his company consisted of ladies and gentlemen—I think he said fourteen, all professionals except myself and one gentleman—Ma or I asked him if he was married—he said, "Yes," and he had five Children, and his wife was going with him, but not his children—he wanted me to go down to Northampton with him on Sunday—he said he was going to the Opera House there—I went down on the Monday—I was to go to the Opera House at two o'clock for a rehearsal, unless I telegraphed to him to meet me at the station; so I went to the Opera House—there was a rehearsal there, but not with Austin Ainslie—I did not find he Was known there; but he had left a note, in conesquence of which I went to his lodgings at a private house—we had a rehearsal at a room over a tobacconist's, and at one of the
gentlemen's lodgings, and once at the Opera House—there was no performance at the Opera House—we went to Rushton and had a performance there of two pieces which we had learned—we had no fit up there—from there we went to Hesborough—we had the school-room there; also to Welling borough and Hesenborough—I saw Mr. Noble there, and returned to Northampton, and I and some of the other members of the company made a statement to him—when I returned to Northampton I was penniless—the gentlemen walked back, and the ladies went by train—I applied to the Benevolent Fund for emergency.
Cross-examined. We had performances at Rushton, Hesenborough, and Wellingborough, and several rehearsals at Northampton—I suppose ail the others were amateurs; they did not seem like professionals—I did not act better than they did—I do not know whether Mr. Butler was a professional; he said he was, but he had only been a baggage man—he was to find the scenery, and there was a row because it was not forthcoming—at the rehearsals the prisoner directed me where I was wrong—we went round till all our money was exhausted; there were no profits—the prisoner walked on to Northampton the day before, and when we got there, he and some others went out and got money to pay our fares back by singing at public-houses—what money there was was given to me, because I was housekeeper—when there were any meals we all shared them together—as far as I could see, he was as hard up as I was—when the first application was sent up we were all together in a room, and all without a penny in our pockets—we all signed it—I knew nothing about the association, unless he had told me—10s. each was sent to us—I gave up the 10s. to pay the landlady—we gave him the 10s., and he gave us 5s. or 2s. 6d. each, I forget which.
Re-examined. I think he paid me about 2s. 7d. for the three months' tour—that did not include what I received from the Actors' Benevolent Fund—I had half-a-crown of that—the fares for us to go back to Northampton were raised by them singing, I think—none of the girls were asked to "busk"; only the gentlemen.
CHARLES RIDER NOBLE . I am manager of the Opera House, Northampton—I saw the prisoner there in the second week in April, as Robert Barton—I had not known him before—he had no engagement at the Opera House—he did not take it, nor did Mr. Austin Ainslie—the first time he came was to witness a performance—a lady was with him—I next saw him when he came and asked if I could lend him a fitter—he said fee had a company, and was going to the small towns, and wanted a fit up—I said he had better see me later in the day, which he did, and I told him I could not let him have one, and where he could get one in London—he came again a few days or a week afterwards to know whether I would let him have the use of the stage for rehearsals—I said "Yes; in the afternoon, between three and four," and I had a chance of seeing the company—I believe they rehearsed there—I crossed the stage—I heard of them being back in the town about a week later—I saw a bundle of letters addressed to the Opera House, but not in the name of Barton—the prisoner called there and asked me if he could have the letters—two men came, one after the other—I said to one, "Your name is not Barton"—the other said his name was Ballantine—I said, "You will find the letters at the Post-office," and I believe he went there—after
that I saw the company at the Opera House, and asked the prisoner to give me some explanation of his behaviour, and what he had been doing, and how it was possible for him to bring the people; and he was advertising for a fresh company, which was most heartless and cruel—he seemed very sad about it, and said he had done everything for his wife's sake—I said, "What do you mean by that? You told me your wife was in London, and she came into the theatre with you tonight"—he said, "That was not my wife"—I got out of temper with him and said, "You are advertising to take a company round England," referring to an advertisement I had seen: "Wanted, full company, with few exceptions. H. Ballantine, Opera House, Northampton"—I sent information to the Actors' Benevolent Fund.
Cross-examined. I had this interview with him in the presence of the members of the company; they did not express any surprise when I read the advertisement—the prisoner is a bona fide actor—he explained that he had to tramp the country to get money, and several of the company sympathised with him, and I believe they expressed their willingness to continue the tour.
Re-examined. There are actors and actors—a man who draws a salary and plays a part on the stage is an actor.
JUSTINIAN GEORGE HANCOCK . I am clerk to the Stage newspaper—I produce copies of March 29th, April 5th, and May 4th, also an advertisement of March 22nd, "Wanted. Lady and gentleman, good parts, small fee. Advertiser is not an agent. Austin Ainslie, Co vent Garden."
FLORENCE BURTON . I arranged in October to join the prisoner's company—I did so, and went with him to Northampton on April 8th—I am not his wife—I passed as Mrs. Ainslie at Northampton, but I knew his name was Barton.
Cross-examined. People always assume names in the theatrical world—I went to Wellingborough and Rushton—he did the beat he could with the materials he had, but failed because we had not got the scenery and properties—when the money was exhausted the men walked and the girls went by train—Mr. Barton left the money for them—Butler and Eden said they had not got the money so they must have spent it—we all had our meals together at Northampton—he received all the money; they all expressed their sympathy with him and said they were determined to stick to him—he did not desert the company—before he wrote to the Association he tried to borrow money of a gentleman named Moss at Northampton.
Re-examined. It is not true that Austin Ainslie left the company stranded; he stuck to it.
LOUIE KNOTT . I have known the prisoner about two years—he called on me about April, 1893; he used to have his letters addressed there—he said he was going to take a company out and if I liked to get a share I could; about ten guineas, and I should get one-tenth profit—I saw him again and he told me that the drama was to be "Grassmore"—he said, "We begin having rehearsals at once at the Mona Hotel in the town; we begin in a fortnight"—I paid him a guinea—this is the agreement (Engaging Louie Knott in the Comedy Company, who was to receive a full share of all money taken at the doors, to play to the best of her ability, and abide by
the rules (Signed ROBERT BARTON.)—we had one rehearsal at the Mona Hotel, and three or four attended—I went to the prisoner's place in Haygarth Street, and asked him if he was going to produce the piece—he said he could not, but he would return me the money—when I went again he had gone, and I saw him next at the Police-court—he did not call at my place after he left Haygarth Street—he said he was expecting ten guineas, and if I would come in the afternoon he would pay me—I did not say, "There is no great hurry"—I saw his wife once—there were to be six rehearsals—it was only for one piece that I paid the guinea—I did not tell him after that that I felt very nervous: I had been on the stage with him before—nobody came to me to give evidence—I saw his case in the paper, and I did not see why he should have my guinea for nothing.
KATIE LYLE . On April 5th I saw an advertisement in a newspaper—I put myself in communication with the advertiser, Austin Ainslie, and received this letter. (Offering the witness a twelve months' engagement if she agreed to the terms stated: premium £ 5 5s., salary 25s. a week, to increase with her progress.)—I replied, and paid him £ 5 5s., and this agreement was drawn up—I would not have paid the £ 5 5s. if I had not believed he would pay me 25s. a week for a year; I took his word for it—I had had a little theatrical experience; I was in a company, more like a choir or concert company, and went on the stage and sang.
ALFRED WARD . (Detective Sergeant). I took the prisoner on a warrant for obtaining by false pretences two postal orders for 10s. and 20s.—he said, "I am very sorry; I was hard up when I did it; I intended to pay it back."
Cross-examined. I did not apprehend him; he surrendered himself.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. METCALF. Prosecuted.
WILLIAM GRAY . I live at 51, St. Ann's Road, Notting Hill—on the morning of July 17th I was with Thomas Newman at Uxbridge Road Railway Station—we went into the Royal public-house—some women spoke to us—Newman paid for some drink—we went out, and went towards Latimer Road—the three women followed us; they passed us at the Norland Castle, and went towards Latimer Road to the Sussex public-house, where I was suddenly struck and knocked down by Smith and Wallace, and my lip cut—Wallace knelt on me for three or four minutes—they ran away in the direction from which I had come—I lost my silver watch and gold chain, the bar of which was left in my waistcoat—I have not seen them since—I complained to two policemen—I was not drunk.
Cross-examined by Wallace. I knew you before, and described you to the constable.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. I did not ask you to go home with me—I saw no men with you when I first spoke to you.
Cross-examined by Johnson. I did not ask you to go home with me, nor did you refuse because I was drunk.
THOMAS NEWMAN . I am a hairdresser, of 51, St. Andrew's Hill—I was with Gray on the morning of July 17th—we were sober—we went into the Royal public-house—I paid for the liquor—I was asked to pay for liquor for the three women, which I did—we were in the house scarcely two minutes—we went out and went towards Latimer Road—the women passed us by the Norland Castle, and said that they were going the way we should have taken—I asked Gray to go another road—when we got to the Duke of Sussex I was struck behind my right ear and fell—I got up and was knocked down again—I recognise Wallace, who was just about to strike Gray—when I got up I saw Gray on the ground and two men on him who I cannot recognise—I assisted him and the men ran away—I had to go to a doctor.
Cross-examined by Wallace. I was not blind drunk—I was too ill to make the charge the same night.
ROBERT MCDONALD . (320 X). About 12.20 on July 17th I was in St. Ann's Road, and saw O'Neill going towards the Garibaldi beer-house—she looked in and came out, and immediately the two male prisoners came out and had a talk together—they passed me, and I heard O'Neill say. "There are two men in Latimer Road"—they went about forty yards, and then the whole three ran—two young men complained to us—Gray was bleeding from his nose and mouth—they were both sober, and both made complaints—I went to St. Catherine's Road, and saw Smith outside No. 52—I told him he would be taken for being concerned with others in assaulting two men—he made no reply.
ROBERT BOWDEN . (493 X). I was with McDonald, and saw O'Neill go to the Garibaldi public-house, and Smith and Wallace came out—they walked at first, but began to run—we went up St. Catherine's Road, and O'Neill was found in a doorway—I followed her and took her, and told her the charge—she made no reply—I took her next door—she said, "Give me a chance; let me put my hat and jacket on"—I followed her in, and saw Wallace lying on a bed—I took him to the station.
JAMES BROWN . (Detective Sergeant X). On July 19th, about two a.m., I went to 47, Catherine Street, and took Johnson—I told her the charge—she said, "I am innocent; can I tell you what took place?"—I said, "Yes; what you say will be taken down and used in evidence against you"—she said, "On Monday night I was with Nell Kemp (O'Connor), and Alice O'Neill; we were passing the Royal Hotel in Morland Market when we saw the two men. Alice O'Neill said, 'Are you going to treat us?' They said, 'Yes.' We went inside, and they paid for a drink for us. We came outside, and they asked me and Alice O'Neill to go home with them. We refused, because they were drunk. They then abused us. Nell Kemp then said to Alice O'Neill, 'Go round to the Garibaldi, and fetch Jack Wallace and Smith.' Alice O'Neill went and returned" with them. The men said, 'Where are they?' Kemp told them they had gone up Latimer Road; they went after them. We then heard a cry of 'police,' and went to the corner. Smith and Wallace came running back with all their speed. Nell Kemp said, 'Run for your lives.' The other men went in the opposite direction. I came home and left them.
Smith whistled, and then the girls went to them"—I saw Gray and Newman on the morning of the 17th; they were perfectly sober.
Cross-examined by Smith. Mr. Gray did not identify Ridler, or he would have been standing where you are—I did not point to you with my stick.
Cross-examined by Wallace. I did not say to you, "If I get you before Sir Forrest Fulton he will make you shut up."
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Smith says: "I know nothing; I am innocent."Wallace says: "I never saw anything of the two men except at the station."O'Neill says: "We are innocent; we had drink with the fellows, that is all."O'Connor says: "We had drink with the fellows, that is all."Johnson says: "The statement I made is true; I know nothing more about it."
Johnson's defence. I have been getting an honest living for fifteen months; Brown knows that.
Wallace's defence. I have been getting an honest living. On the 17th I found a purse and took it to the Police-station. Brown is telling all the lies he can think of.
The COURT. considered that there was no evidence against JOHNSON and O'CONNOR— NOT GUILTY . SMITH, WALLACE, and O'NEILL— GUILTY . Smith and Wallace then PLEADED GUILTY. to previous convictions, Smith** at Clerkenwell on October 5th, 1891, and Wallace** on September 9th, 1889. SMITH and WALLACE— Five Years each in Penal Servitude. O'NEILL— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAM GOODFELLOW . I am a brewer, of 1, Holford Square, King's Cross—on the night between August 7th and 8th I was in East Road, and was attacked by three men; the prisoner was one—I was knocked down and my gold watch and locket taken from me—I got up and chased the prisoner, but did not catch him—I saw him next in the dock at Clerkenwell Police-court, being charged—there were other people in Court—I charged him; he made no reply.
The prisoner. I did not know what you said or whether you were charging me or not. I was at home at the time with my mother.
FREDERICK COBB . (Detective Sergeant Y). I arrested the prisoner at the Police-court on August 24th—I told him the charge was stealing a watch from a gentleman in Euston Road—he said, "About what time was it?"—I said, "About 2.30 a.m. on the 7th"—he said, "I thought you meant the Parsons' watch. I am not going to be put away for this; I shall turn bleeding copper"—he said he slept at 1, Marylebone Place, on the night of the robbery—I was directed to fetch the deputy, who said he did not know him.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I was in bed at 12.30 that night, and I can bring a witness to prove it."
Prisoner's defence. I made a mistake. I thought the Magistrate meant where was I the night before. I said I was at home with my mother.
Evidence for the Defence.
SARAH ANN HALL . The prisoner came home very drunk at 12.30 on this night with a young man named Stanley—he went to my bed at 1.30 a.m., and never went out of the house till between eight and nine next morning.
Cross-examined. I am married, and live at 30, Wells Street, Seymour Street—I am referring to Bank Holiday night—it was four months since the prisoner had slept at my house—he has not slept there since—Stanley is not here, nor was he at the Police-court; he is afraid of losing his work—I locked the door, because I was afraid of the prisoner getting out—I had never locked him in before—I do not know where he was living till he came home that night—I know it was 12.30, because it was just closing time, and he wanted more drink—there was a clock in the room, and I said, "Why, it is closing time"—I left him helpless on the bed, and locked the door—his father was here yesterday.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 19th, 1894.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted, and MR. WOODCOCK. Defended.
GEORGE GAYMAN . I live at 33, Chain Street, Commercial Road—on Saturday afternoon, August 25th, I was in Cable Street, going home past the North East Passage—several persons were outside the door of a public-house, and the prisoner sprang out from the rest, seized me by my right arm and wrenched it, and said, "Give me some b—beer"—I said, "For God sake, don't break my arm; you cannot have any from me; I have got none"—he knocked me down, and then pretended to pick me up, but I found his hand in my waistcoat pocket—I pointed him out to a constable, who took him to the station—I missed the only shilling. I had.
Cross-examined. I am weak; I am sixty-seven years old—I did not trip as I passed the prisoner; I was firm on my feet till he struck me on my chest—I did not see a constable for several minutes—there was no woman there—the prisoner said to the constable, "God blind me; I am innocent."
Re-examined. My arm was wrenched before I fell, and naturally before I spoke to him again I wanted a policeman to be with me.
TERENCE WATERS . (360 H). I took the prisoner—he was charged, and said, "God strike me dead! Me steal a shilling! I am innocent. I will make him pay for this"—on the way to the station he said, "I saw the old man knocked down, but I did not do it"—at the station he said that the prosecutor was drunk, but he was perfectly sober—I found 10s. on the prisoner and some silver.
Cross-examined. The prisoner asked for a doctor at the station to examine the prosecutor and see if he was drunk, but there was no necessity to do that, as he was perfectly sober.
—I was serving a person, and saw the prisoner and the old man outside—the prisoner said, "Ain't you going to give me some beer?" and caught him by the arm—he said, "Leave me alone," but the prisoner knocked him down by my shutters—I did not see what he did to him, but he said to me, "I have lost a shilling"—he was sober—I saw no woman there.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court that I heard him ask for beer—I was frightened—I had made up my mind to say nothing because it is a very rough neighbourhood—I saw the prisoner pick the prosecutor up.
The prisoners statement before the Magistrate: "The prosecutor pushed against me and fell. I picked him up; he walked away and came back with a, policeman. I asked at the station to have him examined to see if he was sober."
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at this COURT on May 2nd, 1892, and several other convictions were proved against him.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. ST. AUBYN. Prosecuted.
GUILTY .— Three Months' Hard Labour.
WILLIAM CAMPBELL . I am a pianoforte maker; I have known the prisoner fifteen years—I spent the evening with him, and went to various houses, and to 35, Duke Street, where his sister-in-law lives—I was very much the worse for liquor, and after I came to consciousness I was badly wounded—I remember struggling with the prisoner on the ground.
JOHN FREDERICK LYNE . I am a packer, of 35, Duke Street, Chelsea—on August 7th I went to bed with my wife about 11.30, and at 12.30 we were awoke by a knock at the door, and found Mrs. Harrison, my lodger, lying in the garden—her sister was with her, and asked for the key—I refused to give it to her, as Mr. Campbell was going to stay with her all night—she went down to the door, and the prisoner and Mrs. Campbell were at the street door outside—I went back to my room, and Campbell and the prisoner went down and began singing—they were intoxicated—somebody said, "Hush," and something which I could not hear—one man said, "You pay your rent, don't you, Bill?"—my wife spoke to me, and I said, "I will go down and lock the kitchen door," and when I did so my wife screamed out, and I saw them scuffling on the landing—I saw the prisoner separated from the prosecutor, who was very excited—I should say he was intoxicated; he was very strange in his manner, and was panting—he said to my lodger, "I have done it for ever and ever"—I went out to fetch a constable, and when he came the prisoner came downstairs—the constable asked him what he had done—he said he did not know—the lodger gave my wife a knife, which she gave to the constable.
and neck—he had a cut below his right eye, and another up the partition, between his nostrils—his lower lip was severed, and there was a wound on his neck four and a half inches long—he was in the hospital ten days, but is all right now.
BESSIE SARAH LYNE . I am the wife of John Frederick Lyne—we had a lodger named Mrs. Harrison, who has gone—her sister, Mrs. Conner, was with her on the night of August 6th—the prisoner came home with Mr. Campbell about 12.30, but I did not see them; I was in my bedroom—they were singing songs, and either Mrs. Harrison or Mrs. Conner called to them to stop it on account of the landlord, and then I saw them struggling on the stairs—Campbell was very faint, because he was losing blood so fast—there was a quantity of blood on the landing.
JOHN ROWLEY . (380 X). On August 7th, early in the morning, I went to 35, Duke Street, Chelsea, and saw Campbell lying on the pavement, bleeding very much from wounds on his face and neck—the prisoner came out, and said, "I have done it; I am very sorry"—I took him in custody, and Campbell was taken to the hospital—Lyne gave me this knife; it was smeared with blood.
ADA HARRISON . On August 6th I was living at 35, Duke Street—I saw the prisoner that night—a party of us were drinking together—I saw nothing of this; I was not in a condition to know what took place—I found this knife on my front room table, and gave it to Mrs. Lyne—the disturbance took place in my room.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I am very sorry. I bore no malice against him, and do not know why I did it. I have known him fifteen years, and was apprenticed with him. I have worked with him as a master. My father died of insanity, and I do not know whether that has affected me."
GUILTY. of unlawfully wounding. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY.— One Month's Hard Labour.
JOSEPH WOODLEY . I am a wheelwright, of 46, Bell Street, Edgware Road—on Bank Holiday, about 8.20, I was at Wembley Park—I went to see the fireworks, and went into a public-house—there were a good many people there, and I had to wait—I felt a snatch at my chain, and found my watch was gone—I sprang at the prisoner, and fell over a man who came between us—I was nailed by my wrist, and the prisoner went through the crowd into a policeman's arms with my watch in his hand—I did not lose sight of him.
Cross-examined. I did not see the police strike you—I picked your hat up—the watch was a present to me, and I would not lose it for £30.
FRANK STOKES . (548 F). I was on duty at Wembley Park, and saw the prisoner rush out of a public-house—I caught him, and asked him where the watch was—he said, "Here it is, governor"—he bad it in his hand—
Woodley's chain was hanging down—I spoke to the prisoner—he said, "You are a bit too fly for me this time."
Prisoner's defence. I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and went after the man, and somebody put the watch into my hand.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY.* to a conviction at Marlborough Street on November 18th, 1892.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and F. GILL. rosecuted, and MESSRS. GRANTHAM. and LARK HALL. Defended.
SARAH SCOTNEY . I am the wife of William Scotney, a labourer, and live at 77, Cooper Road, Barking Road, near the Custom House—the prisoner is my daughter—she has been married to the deceased nine years—she had four children; two are buried—her husband was a stevedore—he was very slack of work, and was very much in the habit of drinking—they had two rooms in my house—she started work, but had not done any for a long time—he would not let her go to work—they lived on his earnings, with my help—on Monday, 30th July, he came home to dinner about half-past twelve; I was in the kitchen—I saw him go upstairs; the prisoner was with him—he went out about five minutes to one—she was then at home—she went out a little after two—she said she was going to take the children for a little walk—she took them with her—it must have been past three when she came home with the children—she said, "There are fine goings on with Mr.Bill and Mr. Green at the Peacock with some women"—she called her husband Mr.Bill—she went and knocked at Mrs. Green's door, which is next to ours; but she said she was out—she stayed on for a little while, and went "upstairs—about four she went out, taking the two children with her—that was the last I saw of her—I was afterwards sent for to the station, where she was locked up—she and her husband lived very unhappily together—he used to say he did not want her; she was to clear out; he had got somebody else to mind his children.
Cross-examined. They were on good terms on the Sunday; and, as far as I know, they were not on unfriendly terms on the Monday morning—she suffered many times very badly with her head—the most of it was from his ill-treating her—she used to suffer in her loins, when her periods came on—he used to jeer and tantalise her very much—he did not bring her much money every week; just before this happened he did not go to work for four days—he came homo on the Friday and gave her a shilling out of the 9s. which he earned that day—I have seen him beat her, and I had to go upstairs; he did not hit her in the face, because nobody should see that he ill-treated her, but he held her down in her chair by her arms, and they were sometimes black—I have seen him beat her, and I used to holloa up to him, "If you starve her, you sha'n't beat her"—I used not always to know when he did beat her, only the children would cry out so—when this happened it must have been about the time when her monthly
periods were coming on—when she went out with her children on the Monday afternoon she carried the youngest, who is two and a half year old, in her arms, and the other walked by her side.
Re-examined. She used to take a little medicine when she was unwell—she did not have a doctor; we could not afford it—she very often went to the chemist's, and he used to make her up a bottle of medicine—she used to be very bad indeed; I used to tie up her head for her—when he held her down she tried to get away, but he held her so tight; she tried to kick him and did the best she could, and he used to say that he liked to get her paddy up, meaning her temper—she was excitable.
By the COURT. I saw her go out the second time, and I never saw her again till she was locked up—I was indoors in my kitchen the whole afternoon.
EMMA MASSEY . I am barmaid at the Peacock public-house in Freemasons' Road, Custom Ho use—on Monday, 30th July, about two in the afternoon, I was in the bar—I saw two men and two women come into the saloon bar—I do not know either of the men and do not know their names now—while they were drinking together I saw the prisoner come into the jug department, not the same bar that the others were in—she had half a quartern of gin in a bottle and a pennyworth of old ale to drink—she asked me if I knew whether her husband was in the other bar—I said, "I don't know your husband, ma'am"—she said, "Oh! there he is; I can see him," looking towards the bar where the two men and the two women were—she asked me if there were any women there; I don't know whether she could see the women; she could see into the compartment—I said,' "I don't know, ma'am"—I was too busy to look—I did not know whether the women were really with him or not—when I walked up the bar I noticed they were gone; that was about five minutes after or a little more—the prisoner followed shortly after—between five and six I saw some men and women talking together in the next compartment to the jug department—one of the men was the same, but not the women; it was one woman and a number of men, and shortly after the prisoner came into the same compartment—she spoke to one of the men—she had one child in her arms and one by her side on both occasions—she said to the man, "That is a nice game you are carrying on"—I should say he was the same man she had indicated as her husband—he was a little short man, in white moleskin trousers and vest, and a dark coat—he gave her a penny out of his pocket, and told her to get half a pint of ale—she said, "I must have half a pint; I will have a pennyworth of old ale"—the man picked up the glass of ale, and threw it over her and walked out; he said nothing—she said, "Now I will go and follow him," and she followed out shortly after him—I don't know how long they had been there—when I came to the bar it may have been six or a little after; I can't be certain; it may have been about six when they left.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner came in she came up to the counter; I did not notice her manner; I took no particular notice of her—I did not notice any provocation when he threw the beer over her; he just took it up and threw it at her; I could not say whether he said anything; I was not listening—I saw it thrown; it went over her—I could not say if it went over the child—I did not hear the prisoner say anything; she was quite
quiet at the time—she took the children out with her—the deceased was sober as far as I knew—I am the daughter of the publican.
ELIZA SMITH . I live at 35, Frederick's Road, West Ham, near Canning Town—on Monday, 30th July, about six, I was in the Royal Albert public-house in Freemasons' Road, about five minutes' walk from the Peacock; I was in the bar with Mrs. Watson—the prisoner was in the same compartment when I went in, with her two children, one in her arms and one by her side—there were two men; one I afterwards heard was her husband—she asked him to come home; he said nothing, only laughed at her—she seemed very much excited—she said, "You gave me a penny for a pennyworth of old ale, and told me not to come into the same compartment as you, and when I came back I found you drinking with the old cows; they soon cleared when they saw me, but I will do for you"—he did not speak to her, or do anything; he went out—he said to Mr. Hitchcock, who was in the bar, "We have been in the park, sleeping; what do you say to going and hear the band play?"—he asked his wife if she would have another glass of ale—she said, "No"—they drank the beer and went out—it was just as they came out she said, "I will do for you; you have brought me to this"—that was the last thing that was said before they went out—the two men went out first, and the prisoner followed them and I followed her—the deceased walked away towards Custom House Station—the prisoner stopped talking to me, still with her children—I did not know her; that was the first time I had met her—she said, "My husband is a beast to me; he earned nine shillings on Saturday, and gave me one out of it; but I will do for him with this"—she took from her pocket a small table-knife with a dark handle. (Two knives produced)—it was neither of these—she put it back in her pocket—I then went away to my husband, who was standing outside the Peacock; he had been in the Albert—I left her standing outside the public-house—her husband was out of sight at the time—I went into the Peacock and had a glass of ale with my husband—while I was there the prisoner came into another compartment, the second from where I was—I had just gone in; it was about ten minutes to seven when I went in—I don't know whether she had her children with her then; I could not see—I drank my beer and went home—my husband and I remained in the first public-house I daresay fifty minutes—I left him there and went home—I saw the prisoner again at five minutes to nine in custody of a constable at the corner of the street—she did not speak to me—she spoke to a woman at the corner, and said, "I have done for my husband. I stabbed him three times"—that was all I heard.
Cross-examined. I heard her ask her husband more than once to go home with her, and he laughed and jeered at her.
ARRIET BUTCHER . I am the wife of John Butcher—I reside at the Custom House—on Monday evening, 30th July, I was at the Peacock public-house—I saw the prisoner there with her husband, Mr. Hitchcock, and a woman—it was between half-past; seven and a quarter to eight—there was some beer thrown—I did not see it thrown; I saw signs of it on both the man and the women—it was wet; I saw it on her shoulder and on his coat—I heard her ask him to come home; he turned round and looked up against the bar—two more people were at the bar, and he said, "Laugh at her"—the prisoner gave Mr. Hitchcock the money to get
a glass of ale for her, himself, and a glass for her husband, and said, "Then, perhaps, he will come home"—Hitchcock paid the money and the ale was served—she had her two children with her; the little girl at her side and the child in her arms—I could not say whether she was sober; she did not look intoxicated—I don't know whether her husband was drunk or sober; I was never in their company.
Cross-examined. I heard her entice her husband to come home, for some time—I think I heard her ask twice—his reply was to call on his friends to laugh at her; they did not—I was there nearly a quarter of an hour—I left to go home—I was not with the prisoner—they were still there when I left.
JOHN BARCLAY . I am a clerk, and live at 63, Freemasons Road, Custom House—on Monday evening, 30th July, about a quarter past eight, I was going along Freemasons' Road—it is a main thoroughfare, but at the part where this happened there were not many people at the time—I saw the prisoner and the deceased coming towards me, on the same side of the road—when they got within a few yards of me I saw the prisoner lift her right hand—he was next the road and she was next the footpath; he was to her right hand—they were both on the footpath—she had a child on her left arm—she drew her right hand up and struck him in the left shoulder, saying, "I will kill you; I mean it"—the man staggered towards the centre of the road, and then fell—I did not see anything in her hand at that time—he got up immediately—she followed him up—she was quite close to him, facing him—he walked down the road three yards towards the Custom House—she followed him for twenty to twenty-five yards, and gave him two other blows in quick succession in the left breast—he was in the middle of the road—he stopped and turned his face towards her when she gave the blows—I then saw the knife in her hand—she repeated the same words, "I will kill you; I mean it. Revenge is sweet"—he never opened his mouth till the last blow—he said, "Oh!"—he put up his right hand and wrenched the knife out of her hand—I saw the knife in his hand after she had done it, and he staggered towards the footpath and fell—I went up to him—his hand was in his right pocket when I lifted him—he fell on his knees and on his face—I opened his waistcoat and saw the blood—the prisoner was standing quite close to us, with the child in her arms—other people came up—I saw two knives found on the deceased—one of the knives produced is like the one the prisoner used.
Cross-examined. The child the prisoner was carrying was a small child; I can't say the age—the other child was at the side close to the prisoner—I did not notice whether it was holding her by the dress—I did not think that the deceased was the worse for drink; he seemed perfectly sober—after the first blow he turned round and faced her—he saw her coming—he had plenty of opportunity of seeing her coming towards him on the second occasion—I daresay he could not have stopped her, she came so hurriedly with the blows—he was walking down the road, stopped and turned to face her, and she gave him the two digs right off; there was no interval—he was flat on his mouth and nose when I lifted him; he was on the footpath—I put my legs over him and lifted him clean up—when he fell his right hand was in his right hand coat pocket
—he was about 5 ft. 7 or 8 in height—I did not notice him put anything in his left hand pocket.
Re-examined. When the first blow was struck I was within a few yards—the first thing I heard was the words I have given—I am a stranger to the locality. (The witness described the place on the plan)—I was coming from Becton and they were going in the direction of Becton Road—I could not exactly tell whether the man was walking or running for the twenty or twenty-five yards—the woman carried the child all the time—I could not say whether she had anything in her hand as she was following him—I did not notice the knife until the last two blows.
JOSEPH STOREY . I am a boiler maker, and reside at the Custom House—I was in company with the last witness on the evening of the 30th July going up Freemasons' Road towards the Custom House—it was a quarter to eight certain by my watch—I saw the prisoner and deceased—they were going towards the public park and we were coming from it, meeting them—I saw her step back and lift her right hand and strike him twice on the left shoulder—he then turned round from towards her and walked backwards out on to the middle of the road—she followed him up and struck him, and said, "I will kill you; I mean it. Revenge is sweet"—she still followed him up and struck him twice on the left breast—she was facing him when she did that; he was going backwards all the time to prevent her from doing damage if he could possibly help it—I saw a knife in her hand—I was sufficiently near to see what kind of knife it was—it was either a dark brown or a black handled knife—this was about it. (One of those produced)—before the first blow was struck I had just observed them going on the footpath—if there were any words between them, we could not make anything out; they must have been very low—after he was struck he wrenched the knife from her hand and walked down the road a little bit, and then staggered over on to the foot-path and fell—Barclay went and lifted him up—a few children gathered round—Barclay and I were the only two men about at the time it happened—the prisoner wanted to get into the crowd to her husband; she was kept out of the crowd—whether she was sorry or not I don't know—I don't remember any words she said—Barclay and I followed her down the road until we met a constable, and we spoke to him—she had two children with her, one on her left arm and the other at her side—she had the child in her arms when she inflicted the blows, and when she went away—I did not keep notice of the other child; I wanted to get hold of her.
Cross-examined. I reckon I was about three or four yards away from them when I first met them—it was exactly after I first saw them that the blows were struck—I could not see what took place before; I can't say whether there was any quarrel—they were going towards the park, and it was just as we were coming off from the middle of the road and were crossing over to the footpath that we saw them—when he fell he fell on his knees as far as I could make out, and then he fell backwards; I did not see him fall forwards—the prisoner seemed very much excited—she held the child in this manner, and then struck at once—the child appeared to be about two years old, a good-sized child—when the man fell I did not see him do anything with his hand—the second
blow was in the middle of the road—he wrenched the knife from her hand, turned his back, and fell as he was getting on the footpath—he took the knife from her, where he put it I could not say—he did not seem to me to be the worse for drink—he was an ordinary sized man—he was walking backwards as she came towards him, trying to save himself—he could see her coming towards him—I saw this going on for two or three minutes—we did not think the thing was serious—if we had thought so, we had time to interfere.
By the COURT. I only saw him fall once, on the footpath, after the fourth blow—from the time she first struck him he was facing her till he received the last blow—I could see the knife in her hand all the time—he could have seen it too—he both saw it and felt it—he could have seen it from the time of the first blow on the shoulder till he got the blows on the breast.
Cross-examined. There were four blows altogether—as far as I could see they were all given with about the same force.
WILLIAM GREEN . I live at 79, Hooper's Road, next door but one to the deceased—I knew him as a neighbour—I am a boiler's assistant—on 30th July I met the deceased in Freemasons' Road, about half-past two—a man named Hitchcock was with him—we walked together for some time—we met two women, friends of mine, and we all five went into the Peacock and had some drink—I did not see the prisoner there at that time—we then left the public-house and went into the park—that would be about three—I remained with the deceased till about half-past four—I left him at the top of Hooper's Road and Freemasons' Road—I saw him next, about half past eight, at the top of Hooper's Road; that was after he had been stabbed, when the constable was taking him away in a little pony trap—I saw the prisoner about the same time at the corner of Garvery Road, at a milk shop nearly opposite Hooper's Road; she was carrying a child in her arms—I had heard something, and I said to her, "Whatever is the matter?"—she said, "Mr. Green, whatever shall I do?"—I said, "The best thing you can do is to go home"—I took the child from her arms, and with the other hand I took hold of her arm and walked her down Hooper's Road, when I was overtaken by police-constable Kronk, and he said he would have to take her into custody—during the time I was in the deceased's company that afternoon he had not spoken to his wife at all that I am aware of—I had not noticed her or spoken to her at all that afternoon.
Cross-examined. When she said to me, "Whatever shall I do?" she was very excited, overwhelmed with excitement—I could not tell what her husband's condition was at six—about half-past four he was the worse for drink—although I lived close to them I did not know anything of their domestic concerns—she is a respectable, hard-working woman.
FRANCIS KRONK . (573 K). On 30th July, about half-past eight, I found the prisoner in a crowd of people in Garvery Road—I had heard what had happened—I said to her, "You will have to come along with me to the station for stabbing your husband"—she said, "I hope I have killed, him; I did it intentionally"—I took her to the station—she there said, "I saw him drinking with two women: it was jealousy"—the charge was read over to her, she made no reply—on 5th August, after he had died, I went to the Seamen's Hospital and removed his clothes to the station,
and on the 8th I searched them, and found this handle of this, knife in his right hand coat pocket, and the blade in the right hand outside breast pocket of the coat—the blade fits the handle, and appears to belong to it.
Cross-examined. When I took the prisoner she was very much over-come—in Hooper's Road she partly fainted.
HENRY TAYLOR . (184 K). On Monday, July 30th, about 8.40 p.m., I went to Freemasons' Road—at that time the deceased had been put into a pony trap—I went with him to the Seamen's Hospital, and there helped to undress him—while he was being undressed one of the assistants took this knife out of his left hand waistcoat pocket; it was closed at the time—he was being then attended to—no further search was made at that time.
EDWARD PHILLIPS . On 30th July I was house surgeon at the Seamen's Hospital, when the deceased was brought there about five minutes to nine—he was in a state of extreme collapse—after a time he became perfectly conscious—I found a punctured wound on the left breast, over the region of the heart, half an inch in length—I noticed a small spur on the left side of the wound—on the back of the left side, over the region of the left shoulder-blade, was another stab wound, about the same length, and a very little higher up in the same region was a mere abrasion, of no depth whatever; it might have been a blow, or anything, certainly not a stab wound; merely a superficial abrasion, it did not penetrate beneath the skin—the only other mark was a bruise on the forehead, which might have been caused by falling down—he died on Wednesday 1st August, at 4.50 p.m.—I made a post-mortem on the 2nd—I found that the chest stab had pierced the chest wall and the pericardium, and had also pierced the heart, going right through the right ventricle into the opposite wall—in my opinion the cause of death was the stab that pierced the heart, allowing the effusion of blood into the peritoneum sac—there were marks on the clothes corresponding with the wounds—there must have been a considerable amount of force to go through all the clothing, and to such a depth—that only applies to the two wounds, not to the abrasion—I think the wounds might have been caused by either of the two knives—I saw both of them shortly afterwards, and fitted both into the heart—one is called a scrivener's knife, the other is an ordinary penknife—the scrivener's knife fitted better than the other.
Cross-examined. There is only one stab mark in the coat—there is a mark in the waistcoat corresponding with that—it is a very thick waistcoat—I carefully examined his clothing—he had on a cotton shirt, and a woollen garment underneath—considerable force must have been used to get through the clothing—when he came in he vomited beer.
Re-examined. The smell of the breath was nothing very characteristic—it might have indicated beer.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY. of manslaughter. Strongly recommended to mercy. — Six Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
747. EDWIN MURRELL (31), and WILLIAM KELLY (28) , to stealing a cart and harness, the property of Mary Ann Murrell. MURRELL also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in October, 1892, of a similar offence, and two other convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
KELLY— Eight Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WABBURTON. Prosecuted.
HENRY TITCOT . (Police Inspector, Forest Gate). On Sunday evening, 2nd September, at 9.30, I was in Woodgrange Road, and saw the prisoner looking in at the prosecutor's window—in about a minute he entered the shop, leaned over the counter and pulled out the till, put his hand in and took something—I entered the shop quietly and took him by the collar and right hand; his left hand was still in the till—I said, "What do you mean by that? Put back what you have taken"—he said, "I wan going to change it for 6d."—I knocked for Mr. Page and he came in—I found 6 1/2 d. on him—he said, "It is my money."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw you open the till; you could reach it very easily—I tried it afterwards, and found it could be done easily—I did not throw the money you had into the till.
PHILIP NORRIS PAGE . I am a confectioner, in Woodgrange Road—on 2nd September, about 9.30, my attention was called, and I found the inspector holding the prisoner—he told the prisoner to put the money down—he refused at first; but he made him open his hand, and there was 6 1/2d.
Prisoner's defence. Do you think I would only take 6 1/2 d. when there was silver at the back?
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY. to a previous conviction on 20th January at West Ham in the name of William Sykes, and two other convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
749. JOHN NEWMAN (25), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Arthur Thomas Whiting, and stealing a dress and two coats; also to a conviction** of felony at this Court in July, 1888.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
JAMES DYCE . (515 K). On 13th August, about 4.15 a.m., I was on duty in Station Road, Stratford, and saw Speedy standing in the footway outside a window, and Moore came out without boots or stockings; they ran away—I chased them, and another constable stopped them—I charged them; neither of them replied—going to the station Moore said he had left his boots in a gateway, and he was sitting on the window-ledge—there were flower-pots in the window half an hour before, which were subsequently
removed—I went back and found the servant had got Moore's boots.
THOMAS EVANS . (65 K R). I am stationed at West Ham—on the morning of August 15th I saw the prisoners running towards Grove Crescent—Moore had no shoes or stockings—I said, "Where have you come from?"—he said, "Up there"—I said, "Up there' is a long way"—I heard a whistle, saw Dyce coming, and detained the prisoners.
JAMES WALPOLE . (Police Sergeant, 2 H). On August 15th I went to this house—the window is about two and a half feet high—three flowerpots had been removed from it, and I found the boots on the opposite side of the road, which Moore is now wearing.
CHARLES CRAVEN . I live at 27, Station Road, Stratford—on August 14th I went to bed at 10.25, and was awoke by the police on the 15th, and found the front window open—I did not examine whether it was shutdown when I went to bed—I missed nothing.
Moore's defence. The window was wide open.
Speeoy's defence. I met Moore, and he asked me to lend him 2d., as he had not got his lodging money. I said I had not got mine. He sat down, and took his boots off. I saw the window open, and Moore went over to look in, and the constable ran round the corner.
GUILTY .—MOORE** then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction at Stratford on March 17th, 1894.— Ten Month' Hard Labour. SPEEDY,* who was recommended to mercy by the JURY, and whose father promised to send him away— Discharged on recognizances .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. WARBURTON. Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE. defended.
GEORGE BILLINGS . On 13th July the prisoner came to my office, 254, Mare Street, Hackney, and wanted some money—I said I could not do it, but I might introduce him to someone who could—I told him I was not a money-lender—on Saturday, 14th July, he called again, and said he had the brokers in, and wanted money very urgently; they were going to take his furniture away on Monday—I advised him to sell something to get some money—on Monday, the 16th, he came again, and said, "Today is the last day. I must do something"—I said, "I cannot help you; if you want to sell anything I will help you"—he said he had no time to sell anything—I said be should go to the dealers in the neighbourhood; he said there was not time, as it was the last day—I said, "What have you got?"—he said, "Some furniture, and some flour, and fittings and tools"—he asked me to buy the flour—I asked him to produce the receipts for it, and he showed them to me—I wrote to the people asking whether they were true—I bought the flour for ten guineas, paying him in notes and gold—I took a man to see the flour, and I asked the prisoner whether that was it, and he said it was—this is the receipt he signed—I said I should move the flour away—he said, "Where are you going to move it?"—I said I should get a room or something to pat it in till I could sell it—he said,
"Why not leave it here?"—I said, "I don't care to"—he said, "It will be safe here; this room is vacant, I don't use it"—I said, "Very well, I well hire this room from you"—I sent across to get a rent-book, and took the room to store the flour in—the prisoner gave me the keys for the room and the front door, and I paid 24s., for six weeks' rent in advance—that 24s. was included in the ten guineas; he wanted £9, and we made it up to ten guineas, which was to include the storage of the flour till I could take it somewhere else—I locked the flour up—I did not remove any of it; none of it has been removed with my authority—on 3rd August I went to the premises, and found I could not get in with this key—I effected an entry at the back—I discovered that the flour was gone, and that the room was full of furniture—the broker was in—I have not seen the flour since—I gave information to the police the same day—I afterwards attended at Walthamstow Police-station, and the prisoner was charged with stealing the flour.
Cross-examined. No doubt this was an absolute sale of the flour—I am a surveyor—I had no other transactions with the prisoner—this was the first time I had ever seen him; he came to my office—I do not know that he came in consequence of advertisements—I do not lend money myself; I negotiate mortgages, with solicitors mostly—outside my door are the words, "Mortgages and loans; distraints, rents, and debts collected," and that kind of thing—he told me the brokers were in before he sold me the flour—he said he wanted the ten guineas because the bailiff was in for the rent; he said he wanted about £9—I knew from what he told me that he was in a bad way for money—I did not purchase all the flour in the house; in addition to the twenty-six sacks I bought, there were ten or twelve other sacks which he said were not paid for, and I declined to have them—he wanted £9, and I paid him ten guineas for the twenty-six sacks and the rent—I looked in the paper the same day and found the lowest value of flour was about 12s. or 14s. a sack—the average value of a sack of flour was not 23s. at that time—the receipt says it is "best superfine flour"—I saw it was the best; I put each of the twenty-six sacks at 14s.—the prisoner is a baker—the value of the twenty-six sacks was not £30; at 14s. a sack it would come to £19; I bought it for £10 10s.—I had to reckon the cost of selling and the risk of moving it away—it was at his suggestion and for his benefit that it remained there—the receipt says, "I agree that you shall have it back in a month"—after the sale was effected it was agreed that at his option I would sell the flour back to him for £15 17s. on 16th August—he asked for an opportunity to buy it back—I was told it would take three vans and would cost about £1or 30s. to move it, and that it would fetch just under £16, and I agreed to sell it to him for that—the agreement as to repurchase was subsequent to the sale—it was on the day I advanced the money, 17th July—I gave him ten guineas on 17th July, and on 17th August, upon his paying me £15 17s., he could keep the flour, which in the meantime was stored in a separate room—I handed the ten guineas to the prisoner—Ashdown, the bailiff in charge for £9 rent, was there—the prisoner counted the money in the shop, and I took it from the counter and took it into the other room, and handed it to the bailiff—I drew up the receipt and put in the word "purchase"—he did not
at first refuse to sign what I had written; he did not say, "I will sign a receipt for ten guineas, but I will not sell that flour"—he talked the matter over—the suggestion of 24s. for six week's rent came from me—I did not come to him two days afterwards and ask him to buy the flour outright—two days afterwards he came to my office—I did not ask him to buy it and say I would give him £2; he wanted me to buy the fixtures of his shop.
Re-examined. We had no more conversation then about this flour—after the receipt was signed he suggested he should like to buy the flour hack—I thought I should only make £1 profit, because of the cost of moving and storing it, and the chance of its getting spoilt—I did not think for a moment he would be able to buy it back.
GODFREY SMITH . I live at 17, Arbery Road, Bow, and am the prisoner's father—I removed twenty-two sacks of flour to my place in my son's presence—he owed me some money—I paid out the sheriff, whose man was there—the prisoner did not say a word about having sold those sacks to Mr. Billings; if he had I should not have taken them away—he did not tell me notice had been given to the sheriff not to part with it—the prisoner assisted me in loading it—I did not tell the detective when he came to me that I would not let him see the sacks.
Cross-examined. I am in a large way of business as a baker and pastrycook—my son is a young man who has only just started business, and he has been a little unfortunate—I paid the sheriff out, and took part of the sacks, and I settled for the flour—I paid the prisoner £36 and paid the sheriff £4, and he gave me an order to pay his man out, and 10s., so that I paid £40 10s., and for that I took the twenty-two sacks—the sheriff's officer who was in possession of them allowed me to take them, and he went away—since then I have settled with Robinson, from whom the flour was obtained—on 30th August I took twenty-two sacks and about fourteen bags, and about a fortnight ago I fetched the other three sacks—there was other property in the house.
FREDERICK PARKES . On 31st July I was in possession for the sheriff, and I withdrew after eight o'clock by order—I saw about the hiring of this room—Mr. Billings sent a man to tell me that the flour was his property—the prisoner unlocked the door and allowed me and the sheriff to go in—I did not have notice from Billings before I was in possession—I asked the prisoner if the flour belonged to him, and he said it was his property, and he let me and the sheriff in—after I had been in possession three or four days, Mr. Billings gave me notice that the flour was his, and he left a man in possession with me—I was withdrawn after the eighth day by the sheriff and I left the flour there—Billings's man left before me—he gave me notice not to part with it—the flour was taken after I left.
Cross-examined. The prisoner said that the flour was his when I first went—he said, "As soon as you go away I shall sell it."
Cross-examined. I am a bailiff in the prosecutor's employ now, I was not then; that was my first transaction with him—I never knew him to land money.
ARTHUR RAPSON . (Detective W). At 11.30 p.m. on 27th August I arrested the prisoner, and stated the charge to him—he said, "The sheriff has got the flour"—shortly afterwards at the station he said his father had got the flour.
MR. DRAKE. submitted that the transaction was not a sale, but only a mortgage, and that possession of the flour was never given to the prosecutor. The COURT. considered that, in fact, it was a mortgage, and directed the JURY. to acquit the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DRAKE. Prosecuted, and MR. SHERWOOD. Defended
During the progress of the case the prisoner stated that he PLEADED GUILTY . and the JURY. thereupon returned that verdict.
He received a good character. Three Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRANTHAM. Prosecuted
FREDERICK WILKINS . I am caretaker of the Congregational Church, The Grove, Stratford—on Thursday night, 16th August, I locked up the church—I was afterwards called up by a policeman, and I went there and found a window broken, and several collection boxes and other things broken open—the police handed me these keys, which I identify as belonging to the boxes in the chapel.
JOHN REYNOLDS . I am a stationer, and have premises overlooking the Congregational Church—on Thursday night, 16th August, I was locking up my premises at the back, and I saw a light in the chapel—after watching for some minutes I saw shadows moving, and I gave information to a policeman—we saw the three prisoners inside the window—I am sure about Ewing—I was taken to the station on the Monday, and picked out Ewing from fourteen men without difficulty.
Cross-examined by Ewing. I did not say at first I could not identify you, and then say I could not swear to you; it was a boy of about your stamp—I said you were the only one I could identify out of the lot as being the man who was in the chapel.
JOHN NEILL . (245 K). My attention was called to the Congregational Church—I went to the back, and found a window open, and saw the three prisoners inside—I was about two yards from them—I tried to get in through the window—one prisoner closed it in my face, and fastened it—I broke a pane with my truncheon, and got inside and chased the prisoners through a gallery, and into a room where I lost them—after that one of them was handed over to me—I next saw Ewing at the station on the 26th—I picked him out of twelve men—I have no doubt about him.
Cross-examined by Ewing I don't know which of you shut the window.
JAMES WALPOLE . Sergeant 2 K). I went to this church, and found the top sash of the basement window pulled down; the contribution boxes, cupboards, and some tin trunks had been broken open, and marks on them corresponded with a knife found on Daly.
HUGH BRADFORD . (357 K). On Thursday night, 16th August, I was off duty in plain clothes in The Grove, Stratford, about one hundred yards from the Congregational Church—I saw the three prisoners together about 11.30.
EWING**† then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction of felony in August, 1892, and WALKER+to one in September. 1890. DALY†— Three Months' Hard Labour. WALKER— Six Months' Hard Labour EWING— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. SANDS. Prosecuted
WILLIAM KEELING . I live at Rush Green, Romford, and am a carman in the employ of John Alfred Gay—on the morning of the 7th August I was taking horses and a wagon containing beans packed in baskets like this through London—at Whitechapel I found I was two baskets short—I was afterwards shown this basket, which bears my master's initials.
GEORGE GRAY . (250 K). At a quarter to three a.m. on the 7th August I was on duty in High Street, Stratford—I saw some vans going towards London—three men went towards the vans; two of them each took a bushel basket, and the third took a sack containing something—I attempted to wake the carman, and then went towards the men—I saw Andrews and Hilton, who ran away when they saw me—I ran a quarter of a mile and caught Andrews; he had nothing with him—I asked him what he had in the basket—he said he knew nothing about a basket—I took him back to where I had seen him put the basket down and told him I should take him to the station and find out who the basket belonged to—on the way to the station I saw Hilton, and I pointed him out to a man who was assisting me, and he went and arrested him—this is the basket I saw Andrews carrying.
THOMAS HOWE . I am a labourer, and live at 7, Godfrey Street, West Ham—on this morning I saw a wagon going along High Street, Stratford, laden with vegetables—four men went behind the wagon and took some sieves off—Hilton and Andrews were two of those men—I afterwards helped Gray take Hilton to the station.
Hilton, in his defence, denied leaving stolen the baskets, or having been with the men that stole them.
GUILTY .—Hilton then PLEADED GUILTY.* to a conviction of felony in March, 1893, in the name of Williams, at this Court.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. ANDREWS— six Months' Hard Labour
755. ARTHUR LAWRENCE (17), PLEADED GUILTY to attempting to steal a watch from the person of John McCutchion; also to a conviction of felony**† in April, 1894, in the name of Arthur Ward.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
756. THOMAS CLARK (29) , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of David Dowers, and stealing a watch and other articles, his property.— Discharged on recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
757. ARTHUR FISHER (28) , to stealing a blanket, a coat, and a handkerchief, the goods of John Brand; also two tablecloths and a sheet, of Hannah Taylor.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
ALFRED AKERMAN . I live at 32, Elmslie Road, Walthamstow—on August 27th, about 2.30 p.m., I left my house, leaving the doors and windows secure—between six and seven p.m. I found a constable in charge of the house, which was in great disorder—I missed a diamond and ruby ring, a silver bracelet, a gold pencil-case, and other articles, value about £15—I went to the station, saw the prisoner, and gave him in charge—he made no reply.
ELIZABETH COX . I am the wife of Henry Cox, of 30, Elmslie Road—on August 27th I heard footsteps and voices in the house—I went to the garden and saw the prisoner at the back bedroom window—I went to the side gate, and two men were just leaving the house—I asked them what they wanted—the prisoner said, "Nothing"—I raised an alarm, and Mr. Barton, who was passing on a bicycle, gave chase—I recognised the prisoner at the station.
Cross-examined. I could not recognise you at first, but I did directly you put your hat on.
ALFRED BARTON . I am a provision dealer, of 18, High Street, Walthamstow—on August 27th I was riding through Elmslie Street, and Mrs. Cox asked me to go after two men who had broken into a house—I followed them to James Street Station, a quarter of a mile—I lost sight of them for about two minutes, but went round to the entrance of the station and saw them again, and followed them till I came to a constable—I arrested the prisoner and he was charged at the station.
GEORGE RIDGE . (179 N). I received information from Mr. Barton, and followed the prisoner and two other men to James Street—they were walking—I got within sixty yards of them—they saw me coming and ran as hard as they could along Station Road—they turned down Hartington Street and jumped over the back fences of four houses and into a house—I caught the prisoner and lost sight of the others—he said, "You have caught the wrong one; I have nothing on me"—I took him to the station, and charged him; he made no reply—Mr. Lane gave me this jemmy, and said he got it from Ada Johnson.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You were not running after a man; you were walking together, talking.
with two marks on the door—a large box in a bedroom had been forced, and some drawers in another bedroom; the tool fitted them.
Prisoner's defence. I know nothing whatever about it.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. ROOTH. Prosecuted, and. MR. DRAKE. Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. BODKIN. Prosecuted.
SIDNEY CUMMINGS . I lived at 556, Old Kent Road—on 22nd July, at half-past three, I was riding a bicycle along the Eltham Road, and noticed a haystack in flames in a field about 200 yards from the road—I saw the two prisoners in the field running away from the stack towards the road—I got off my bicycle, and got over the hedge into the field—Hope was running behind Marriner, and said, "Stop him, he did it"—I stopped Marriner—Hope came up, and said, "Marriner asked me for a match; I asked him what for, and he said, 'Suppose we set this stack alight?' I said, 'I sha'n't help you,' and he said, 'If you don't, I will'"—Marriner heard him say this; he said nothing, he was very quiet—I noticed that the lining of Hope's coat was smouldering—he said that he had tried to put it out when Marriner started to fire it; he had the coat in his hand—Mills came up, and I got on my bicycle to go for assistance, but another cyclist was before me.
HERBERT MILLS . I am a scaffolder at Lewisham—I was in the Eltham Road on this afternoon, and saw Cummings there with the two prisoners—I took them to the stack—it was well alight—I did my best to put it out—the prisoners did not help me at all—Hope said that Marriner wanted him to set it on fire, and he would not, and Marriner struck the match—Marriner said nothing to that—I had never seen the prisoners before.
JAMES WALKER . (508 E). I saw the priosners detained by Cummings—he said, "These are the ones that have done it, constable"—Marriner then said, in Hope's presence, "Look here, sir; we were both sitting against the stack, and Hope said, What say if we set the stack alight?" I said, 'No, don't you do that; you will get into a row if you do Hope struck a match and lit some hay on the ground, and then threw the match on to the stack, and in a minute it was in flames. I said, 'I am off,' and got up. Hope said, 'Don't run away; people will think we did it.'" Hope said, "If you did not set it alight, what did you run away for?"—I took them to the station—they were searched; no matches were found on either of them.
was burnt was mine; it was completely destroyed—the value was about £200, including the instruments surrounding it—the stack itself would be worth £100.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Hope: "It was not me, I was sitting on the grass; Marriner done it; then he ran off, and I jumped up and shouted out, 'Stop him!'"Marriner: "We were both fitting on the grass playing about with matches; all at once it began to flame. This boy said,' Don't run, people will think we done it; go through the hedge, people won't see us then. I shan't run straight on.'"
Hope's defence. I told Marriner not to do it, or we should get locked tip; he would do it. When he ran off I shouted out, "Stop him!"
Marriner's defence. Hope had the matches, he was throwing them about; I began to use them. My match I happened to throw on to the stack, and it caught fire.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerrr, Esq
MR. MAURICE. Prosecuted.
JOHN FINCHER . I keep the Pioneer beerhouse, Woolwich—on August 8th the prisoner came in alone, and asked for two glasses of ale—he tendered a shilling, which I put in the till where there were seven or eight good ones, and gave him the change—I did not notice him go out—I left the bar about two o'clock for a few minutes, leaving my daughter there—when I came back she said that the prisoner had given her a bad shilling—he was there, and two persons with him—he said he got it from Canning Town Railway Station—I examined the till, and found a bad shilling there corresponding with the one that my daughter had broken—I went out and gave him in charge, with the shilling.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You asked for two glasses of ale; one was for me and one for you—you have been several times there before, and have had credit—we have usually drank together.
FLORENCE MAY FINCHER . I am a daughter of the last witness—I was in the bar on August 8th from 12.50 to two o'clock—I served the prisoner with three glasses of ale—he tendered a shilling—I tested it, broke it, and told him it was bad—he said he got it at Canning Town Railway Station, and paid with coppers—my father came in, and I told him—two men were in the bar with the prisoner—they were all talking together, and two of them went out when I broke the shilling—I gave it back to him.
JOHN WINTER . (149 R). Mr. Fincher called my attention to the prisoner, and I told him I should take him in custody for offering a counterfeit shilling—he said, "I am an innocent man," and gave me a broken shilling, and Mr. Fincher gave me another, and Bartlett another, and I got these seven others at the Police-station—I searched the prisoner, and found a halfpenny and a bag of sweets—he said, "I did go-to Miss
Hawkins' and purchase a pennyworth of sweets, but I did not know the shilling was bad."
FRANCES MILLS . I am seventeen years old, and am assistant to Emily Hawkins, a confectioner in Woolwich—on August 8th I served the prisoner with a pennyworth of creams—he gave me a shilling, and I put it in the till, and noticed the date, 1888; it looked like a Jubilee shilling—there was one other shilling in the till, but that was an old one—in about half an hour Bartlett came and showed me the sweets, and I recognised them—I found a bad shilling in the till, which I gave him—I had taken no other shilling—I picked the prisoner out at the station.
Cross-examined. You said you were going to the Fortune of War.
EMILY HAWKINS . I am a confectioner, of New Road, Woolwich—the last witness is my assistant—on the morning of August 8th I took a shilling over the counter—it was not a Jubilee shilling, and it was older than this—no other shilling had been taken that morning—this (produced) is the one I took; it is good.
Cross-examined. On the day of the remand you asked me if there were any more shillings, and said that you had been at the Fortune of War.
WILLIAM DEAN . I am a carpenter, of Thomas Street, Woolwich—on August 8th, about 2.15, I noticed three men talking together—the prisoner was one—I only saw them two or three minutes—a policeman took them away—I saw a small parcel on the ground—I put it in my pocket, and took it to the Police-station—it was these coins (Produced).
Cross-examined. You were about 20 feet from Wellington Street, and 200 yards from the Pioneer—I saw Mr. Fincher come up, and picked the money up two or three minutes afterwards.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he picked up an envelope with three shillings in it, and put them in his pocket, and went into the Fortune of War and tendered one of them, and received the change, and then went out and bought some sweets for a child there, and returned and had another drink, and the daughter said that the shilling was bad; that he went outside and examined it, and was going to take it to the post-office, but was taken in custody. He contended that he should not knowingly have passed bad money to a person who had befriended him, and lent him money. He produced certificates from the P. and O. Company, who he said he had travelled for them for fourteen years.
He received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SELLS. Prosecuted.
and everything secure—I went down about 6,20 next morning and saw things thrown all over the place, my clothes and the boys' clothes—the window was thrown up from the bottom and a flower-pot removed—I missed three coats and £2 10s. from my tunic, and my whistle and several other little articles.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. I am not certain whether I fastened the hasp of the window, but I closed it.
ELLEN ALLEN . I am the wife of the last witness—I recognise this piece of soap; it was taken from the washhouse table—it was there on the night of the 22nd—there is a mark on it which my child made with her nails—I also recognise these songs.
SAMUEL BOON . I keep a milk shop at 60, William Street, next door to Mr. Allen—on August 23rd, at five a.m., I went to the door to take in the milk, and found the window wide open and the curtain blowing about.
AMELIA WEST . I live at 21, Ropeyard Rails, Woolwich, a common lodging-house—on August 23rd, about 12.30 in the day, Hicks spoke to me and went upstairs and got this handkerchief and wrapped a coat in it, and asked me to take it to the pawnshop in the name of Smith—I saw him take something else attached to a whistle, and he passed something to another man.
Cross-examined. I told you the pawnbroker had detained the coat—I sat down and another man put his hand in my pocket and took out the money I had—I have been greatly insulted and am in danger of my life—two women tried to tear my clothes off and felt my stockings and boots to see if I had any money—you know you held me down while Dicky Good fellow robbed me—I am a charwoman—if it had not been for the police I should have been murdered, I am very sorry I ever went to that lodging-house.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. I know nothing about you, but you were in the kitchen.
Re-examined. One of the women was living with Hicks—I do not know who the other is.
HARRY PRITCHARD . I am a pawnbroker's manager, of 66, Church Street, Woolwich—on August 23rd this coat was brought to me wrapped in this handkerchief—West wanted to pawn it—I questioned her and asked her who sent her—I detained the coat, and communicated with the police.
GEORGE ROBERT CLARKE . I am the son of G. R. Clarke, the landlord of the Distillery public-house, Woolwich—on August 23rd O'Connor and another man not in custody called and had two drinks, and asked if I would mind 30s. for him, as he might lose it—I said, "Yes," and he gave me a sovereign and a half-sovereign—he came in the afternoon and asked me for half-a-crown, which I gave him—afterwards Barthe and Vanstone came and made a communication, and in the evening O'Connor came again for drink, and the barman refused to serve him—I put him outside, as he was drunk.
ALFRED VANSTONE . (Detective R). On August 23rd I went to 21, Rope-yard Rails, Woolwich, a common lodging-house, and saw Hicks and about a dozen others feasting on beef steak, mutton chops, and tomatoes—I said that I should take him—he said, "I did not steal it, O'Connor
took it, and you will find it at High Street"—I have made inquiries about Mrs. West; she is a very honest woman.
Cross-examined by hicks. I was called to the door of the kitchen, and said that I should arrest you—you said, "I know nothing about it; the old b—took it out of the kitchen on her own hook; she took it off a nail in the wall," which you pointed to—at the station you said, "I did not steal it. O'Connor took it, and you will find some of the money at the Distillery, High Street."
Cross-examined. I did not say in your cell that I would give you some tobacco if you would give me information about the robbery—I do not rob women as you do, or as you robbed Michael West.
JESSE BARTHE . (403 R). On August 23rd I went to this lodging-house, and saw Hicks—on the evening of the 7th I took O'Connor; he was very drunk—I found on him a cake of soap, twelve pieces of paper, and some songs—he said, "I have got the b—money, but I cannot find it."
Cross-examined by Hicks. You told me that O'Connor had the money—you had a lot to say, and I listened to it.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. There was a mark of a child's nails on the soap I found on you—this piece of boot-lace (produced) is nothing like the piece tied round the songs—I do not know you to be a working man in the docks.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ANNIE HARRIS . On August 2nd, O'Connor came upstairs blowing a policeman's whistle, and asked me if I was coming out to have a drink—I was in bed, and the door was open, I can never shut it properly—I do not know Darkey's name.
By the Court. I remember Hicks being arrested—he came to bed the night before at 12.30, and O'Connor came between between five and 5.30 a.m., and said he had come off, and had plenty of money.
Cross-examined. I lived with Hicks at this common lodging-house—I know Mrs. West; I never threatened her—I did not assault her that very day, and search her even to her stockings. (Mrs. West here identified the witness as one of those who assaulted her.) I was dining with Hicks, and eating steak and tomatoes, and I pawned my earrings to do it—there was only steak and potatoes for three people.
JANE HOLLOWAY . I lent Hicks a shilling to pay his lodging on this Wednesday night—he went to bed between twelve and 12.30, and got up about ten o'clock—O'Connor came upstairs in the morning blowing a policeman's whistle—on the day that Hicks got locked up we were in the kitchen eating steak and taters, and I had a tin of rabbit—I saw O'Connor in the kitchen—he went out first; he was drunk—I was there when the policemen searched the house—I did not see the coat in your possession.
Cross-examined by O'Connor. On Tuesday morning, August 21st, I saw you washing yourself, and you lent me a piece of brown soap—I should not recognise it—you were not sleeping there on the night the robbery came off—I get my living on the streets.
Cross-examined. I was present when the policemen arrived—I saw Hicks having his dinner at the same time as the last witness—six or seven were eating at the same time.
Hicks' defence. If I had been in O'Connor's company at the time he did the robbery, should not I have had a share of the money? O'Connor
does not do a day's work in the twelve months; he walks about stealing watches and chains. He said in the van on the remand, that he thought it was Sergeant Gillham's house, who had all the money for the fines.
O'Connor's defence. I have got a memorandum of the Dock Company to prove that I am getting an honest living. When I was arrested a piece of soap was found in my pocket, which I always carry for washing myself. The finger marks could be made by anybody. This woman has been living with Hicks, and I ask you not to believe her. She gave her name as Amy Hicks at the Police-court; she has done several terms of imprisonment. She had to run away from Notting Hill because she had done a robbery there. Can it be possible that she could see the policeman's whistle or coat in my coat that morning? Hicks sent her to pawn the coat.
HICKS— GUILTY. of receiving. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
O'CONNOR— GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY.* to a conviction at this Court on January 9th, 1893.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Justice Kennedy.
MR. HUTTON. Prosecuted, and MR. BLACKWELL. Defended.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
765. CHARLES THOMPSON (22), and WALTER FELIX (17), PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of George Leggitt, and stealing goods therein, both having been previously convicted: Thompson in March, 1853, at this Court, and Felix at the Surrey Quarter Sessions in July, 1893. Other convictions were proved against them. THOMPSON— Five Years' Penal Servitude. FELIX— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. RICHARDS. Prosecuted, and MR. SOPER. Defended.
NOAH ALFRED LEE . I am a porter, of 62, Hatfield Street, Stamford Street—I was a depositor at Worthing; my book was 10,634—this (produced) is not my signature, nor did I authorise anyone to sign it—I have not had the money—last January I lived at a coffee-shop in the Borough, and the prisoner slept in the same room from January 14th to 22nd—I kept my deposit-book under the glass or in my coat pocket, as I had lost the key of my box—I missed the book on January 26th, and communicated with the Post Office, and found £14 had been withdrawn—I obtained a warrant in March for the prisoner's arrest.
Cross-examined. I saw him next in the courtyard of the Police-court, with a good number of people—I pointed to a man, and said he very much resembled him—the prisoner was there, but I never looked at that end—I identified him afterwards.
Cross-examined. This is the first time I have seen him since; he left because he was in the employ of the wax works at Manchester, and had to go there.
ALICE AMELIA JONES . I am a confectioner, of 121, Blackfriars Road—the prisoner came there and asked me to take in letters for him, and at the end of January a blue letter came open at both ends, like this (Produced)—I gave it to him.
Cross-examined. He may have been a customer six weeks or two or three months—after giving him the letter I did not see him again till I saw him in the courtyard.
WILLIAM GEORGE JOHN HILL . I am a clerk in the Post Office Savings Bank—on January 20th I received this notice of withdrawal, and wrote this one, "B"—I wrote the name and address on the flap; it was folded like this, with a line of gum round the edge.
Cross-examined. This warrant was signed in my presence—the person did not seem to have any difficulty in signing it, as if he was trying to imitate anything—it corresponds with the writing in the deposit book.
ARTHUR CARTER . I am a sergeant in a Kentish battalion—I enlisted the prisoner about December 29th, 1893—I gave him arithmetic and dictation, and this (produced) is writing which he did in my presence at my dictation—I saw him into the train.
WALTER HURST . (Constable G.P.O.). I arrested the prisoner on a warrant on August 10th in Wandsworth, which I read to him, and said, "You understand?"—he said, "Yes, but I know nothing about it"—I said, "You will have to come to the station in the Borough"—on the way he said, "In the event of my being found guilty of this, what do you think I shall get?"—I said, "I do not know. "
Cross-examined. I was present at the identification—Lee was asked to point out the person and failed—he pointed out a man who he said was like him—he had a very light fair moustache—I did not caution him.
JAMES JOHNSON . (Constable G.P.O.) I assisted in taking the prisoner to the station, and took him into the yard, where there were six other men, and said, "Now place yourself anywhere you like"—he placed himself at the extreme left; Miss Jones picked him out at once—he then changed his position to the extreme right, and Mr. Leo picked out another man about twenty-six, about five feet high, with a slight moustache.
JAMES VICTOR LEE . I am sergeant-major of the Ordnance Corps, Woolwich—the prisoner joined on December 30th, 1893, in the name of James Vincent Sinclair—he deserted next day, and was brought back from Chichester in February—he had £6 10s. on him and a watch and
chain—he went away in Militia uniform—he asked permission to go away for a few days' leave; I told him it was impossible till he got his uniform.
Cross-examined. He came back at the beginning of February—he did not say he had received money from his father or a letter from his solicitor, but his solicitor came to me—I never saw a cheque for £3 from his solicitor.
GEORGE ROBERT EVERITT . I am principal clerk in the Post Office Savings Bank Department—it has been my daily habit to examine handwriting—I have often given evidence here before—I have carefully compared document "A" with the statement in the prisoner's admitted writing, and in my opinion they are in the same writing—in the notice of withdrawal there is a peculiarity in the "the" in "Worthing," and there is the same peculiarity in the enlistment—in the statement handed to the Magistrate the "W" in "Worship" is identical with the "W" in "Worthing"—there are other similarities in the letter "J" in "January" and in "James," and the capital "R" in "Recruit" and the "St" in "St. Clair"; the "S" is not made with the top as usual, but there is a straight line drawn across, and the same occurs in the "St" in "Cannon St."
Cross-examined. There is another capital "S" in the document at the top; that is not the same as the "S" in "Cannon Street"—I have nothing to compare that with.
FRANK WILLIAM MANN . I am in the Secretary's Department of the General Post Office, and have been eight years engaged in making investigations and comparing writing—in my opinion "A" and "B," the request for payment and the notice of withdrawal, are in the same writing—there is a similarity in the "J" in "Jan." in the notice of withdrawal and the "J" in "James," and there are several "this" in each—I have no doubt they are written by the same person.
GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WALTER. Prosecuted, and MR. ELLIOTT. Defended.
CHARLOTTE KEATING . I am the wife of Robert Keating, of 54, Broad Wall—I knew Robert Creighton; that is he—I was present when he was married to Jane Hannah Robertson, the prisoner, at the church in Kennington Road—I was living at 30, Royal Street, and the prisoner was living at 37, Phoenix Street. (The certificate of this marriage of September 27th, 1880, was here put in.)
ELLEN ROBERTSON . I am the wife of Thomas Robertson, of 21, Broad Street, Waterloo Road—I am the prisoner's sister-in-law—I know Creighton; I have seen him this morning—I used to associate with the prisoner, but for about fifteen months we have not spoken—I took a walk with her when she was at Southwark Police-court, and she said, "Oh, my God, there is my Bob; he has given me a turn. I wish I had never seen him"—I was out with her again, and she said, "I hope I shall not meet him. Let us make haste down the London Road"—at that time she was living with Hall—she said that Bob had altered—she has seen him on several occasions during the last eighteen months.
Cross-examined. I had not spoken to her because her husband and my husband had a row, and my husband had a month's imprisonment, and I
have not spoken to her since—she was bound over to keep the peace on one occasion.
SELINA HALL . I am the wife of John Hall, of 10, Market Square—the prisoner is my sister—I have seen her husband, Mr. Creighton, in Court this morning—I was there at the marriage—they cohabited for some time—afterwards there was some unhappiness—he was sent to prison for three months, and the prisoner went away with Mr. Hall—when Mr. Creighton came out he entered the army—that is about two years ago—when he came out the prisoner said she had money in the bank, and she would draw it out and go back if he would live with her.
Cross-examined. I was not on very good terms with her—there was a quarrel, and she took out a summons against me, which was dismissed—she told me she would put me in prison as she had done others.
ISAAC HALL . I have known the prisoner about eighteen years—I lived with her eleven or twelve years—on December 26th, 1893, I went through the form of marriage with her at Southampton—I am forty-four years of age; I described myself as a widower—I do not know whether my wife died in the workhouse in October—I never went away with the prisoner; I went to Blaydon in Northumberland, and she followed me some weeks afterwards—I knew the prisoner when she was living with her husband, and knew him as well—I have seen him here to-day—he is nothing like the old Creighton—the prisoner followed me through a letter—I have been very happy with her—if I had been a widower I could not have married her before, because she was married.
Cross-examined. During the whole time she has not seen her husband—in my opinion he has very much altered—if I had met him in the street I should not have recognised him—he made no inquiries about her for twelve or thirteen years, nor did he send a single shilling for her support.
WILLIAM CROPTON . I produce the marriage certificates, which have been put in—on August 6th the prisoner was brought in by Hall and Creighton; she said she was the wife of both of them—I told her the charge was marrying while her husband was alive—she said, "I did not know he was alive; he knocked me about, and went to prison. I never received one penny from him, and have been living with this man"—she said, "What are you talking about? I would not leave this man now; you are trying to do this to upset me."
Cross-examined. She did not appear to believe he was her husband—she seemed surprised and very indignant, and I believed what she said—there had been proceedings at Bow Street between the parties, and these facts came out—both husbands were there—so far as I know, this was the first time she saw him—I never saw him till that afternoon.
SELINA HALL . (Re-examined). I was at the Police-court on Bank Holiday when proceedings were pending between me and the prisoner—during the cross-examination by Mr. Walker it came out that there was a re-marriage—Mr. Clayton was charged with hitting the prisoner's husband—I had not been in a public-house that morning.
NOT GUILTY .
ERNEST JOYCE . (245 W). On August 23rd I was on duty in Shakespeare Road, Herne Hill, and at 10.30 noticed the door of No. 33 open—I went in and found the prisoner crouched behind the door—I asked what he was doing there; he said, "Nothing"—there were four large bundles tied up in the passage close to him—I said, "What about these?"—he said, "I don't know anything about them"—he was taken to the station; he was perfectly sober.
Prisoner's defence. I was walking along three parts intoxicated, saw the door open, and went in. It was pitch dark, and I did not think there was anybody in the house.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY. to a conviction at Greenwich on July 15th, 1893, as George Fletcher. Eight other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
JOHN TREVICK . I am a clerk, of Mallady Road, Wandsworth—on Wednesday evening, August 1st, I went into my dining-room, and from a communication I went to my street door and opened it gently, and heard footsteps in the passage of Mr. Kemp's house, next door, No. 32, who I knew was in the Isle of Wight—he had left the keys with me—I opened the door gently, heard a noise, called the police, closed the front garden gate, and saw the prisoner and another man come out of the house—they ran away, and I followed the prisoner, but I had no boots on—I saw him stopped; I watched him the whole distance.
Cross-examined. I did not say to you, "Stop that man running; he has broken into a house"—I saw you jump from the garden of 32 to the garden of 30—I saw you come from the door ten feet off.
WILLIAM GIBSON . I live at 139, Battersea Park Road—on August 1st, about ten p.m., I heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoner running, and Mr. Trevick chasing him—I made a rush for him, and he struck at me—he afterwards said, "We are only having a lark, just racing round here; what the hell are you stopping me for?"—the other witness came up, and said it was all right—I misunderstood him, and let go of the prisoner, and he ran away again—Mr. Trevick said he was a burglar, and I gave chase, and caught him again—he struggled very hard—I detained him, and took him towards the station—he tried to slip out of his coat two or three times, but I kept him till he was taken in custody.
Cross-examined. I saw no man running in front of you—there were lamps along the road.
Prisoners defence. If I was in front of him how can he identify me? I daresay he thinks of getting a bit from the man whose house he was taking care of. He may be right in saying he saw two men, because I saw a man running in front of me. When he said, "Stop that man" I gave chase.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY.* to a conviction at Newington on November 14th, 1893, in name of Alec Mason.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, OCTOBER 2ND, 1894.