CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SECOND SESSION, HELD DECEMBER 10TH, 1894.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
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OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, INCLUDING CASES COMMITTED TO THIS COURT UNDER ORDER IN COUNCIL, PURSUANT TO THE WINTER ASSIZE ACT OF 1879, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, December 10th, 1894, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH RENALS , Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir HENRY HAWKINS , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's of the High Court of Justice; Sir JAMES CLARKE LAWRENCE , Bart., Sir JOSEPH SAVORY , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., other Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON , Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. SECOND 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, December 10th 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MR. C. F. GILL Defended.
THOMAS SALTER . I am a clerk in the Central Office at the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce this affidavit, which purports to be sworn by Alfred Woodley Letts on 24th August, 1894, in the action of Watson v. Letts.
FREDERICK COOPER . I am managing clerk to G. R. Grant and Co., of 41, Norfolk Street, Strand, solicitors for the plaintiff in the action of Watson v. Letts—I had the conduct of that business—I attended before Master Wilberforce at the hearing of the summons under Order 14—this office copy of the plaintiff's affidavit was then produced and used in support of the application for judgment; it stated that there is no defence to the action—Mr. Fearn, who represented the defendant, produced this affidavit of the defendant. (In this affidavit the prisoner stated that he was not indebted to the plaintiff, that the promissory note for £500 had never been presented to him for payment, and that the plaintiffs claim was barred by the Statute of Limitations; that he (the prisoner) had made the promissory note for the accommodation of the plaintiff without consideration, and he denied that the plaintiff was the holder for value, as at the time of making it and since he did not owe the plaintiff any money). The Master read it, and, then the summons was adjourned for me to consider what to do—at the second hearing an order was made that the whole amount should be paid into Court in seven days, and if not judgment with costs to be taxed—this judgment recites the order—the prisone was present when the affidavit was produced in the Master's room—I do not know his writing.
Cross-examined. I was not in Grant's employment when he acted for Watson in the dissolution of the partnership—I went into the employment
in July, 1893—Mr. Grant has not been acting for Watson in any matters recently, that I am aware of—I have no knowledge of this promissory note, only that it was handed to me to issue a writ on it—when the affidavit was made in answer to the application under Order 14, the matter was adjourned, and a fresh affidavit in reply was sworn by Watson and by Grant—I attended the hearing before the Master when that fresh affidavit was used—the prisoner's solicitor was there, and he said that the prisoner was away somewhere—I don't think he said that these matters alleged in this fresh affidavit required explanation, and that he wanted an opportunity of consulting him; I will swear he did not—I suppose he told the Master his client was away, because he could not answer the affidavit in time—I believe he got the fresh affidavit just before the matter came on; I sent it as soon as I got it sworn—I think Mr. Fearn said something about the circumstances with regard to the dissolution not being within his knowledge—I cannot remember the exact words he used—the matters with regard to the business were known to Mr. Grant and Mr. Watson.
GEORGE REGINALD GRANT . I am a solicitor, of 41, Norfolk Street, Strand—in 1887 the prisoner was a client of mine—he introduced Mr. Watson to me as a client—I think I had acted for the prisoner for a short time before the matter of the dissolution of the partnership—in 1887 I knew they were partners—for two or three months before the dissolution negotiations were going on—I acted for them in the dissolution—I prepared this deed of dissolution and this assignment and release, which were signed on August 24th by the two parties in my office in my presence. (The deeds of dissolution and release were read. The deed of dissolution recited that Letts was to carry on the business and pay Watson £500 as his share of the business. The release stated that a valuation having been made of all moneys, stock, trade debts and other effects of the partnership, an the parties admitting that Watson's share of the business amounted to £500, Watson agreed to execute the deed upon receipt from Letts of his not of hand for £500 with 5 per cent, interest, and assign to Letts his share and interest, Letts to collect all debts owing, and discharge all liabilities due by the firm and to indemnify Watson)—am the attesting witness—I have no doubt the documents were read over to them—I had frequently seen them during the negotiations—on the day of the signing of the deed of dissolution this promissory note in the prisoner's writing was signed—the signatures on all three documents and on this affidavit the his—I believed I retained the promissory note—between that time and the time the action was brought I saw the prisoner several times—I spoke to him, more particularly about the payment of the interest on the promissory note—that may have been half a dozen times—he never paid me any interest up it; he used to shrug his shoulders and say, "I am not in a position yet to pay anything; as you know, I am only now in a berth"—he meant he was in a situation—he never suggested that he had made the promissory note for Watson's accommodation and without consideration, or that he did not owe the money—in 1893 Mr. Watson instructed me to bring an action upon the note—the writ in the action was issued on 15th August, 1893—I entrusted the service of the writ to one of my clerks—it was not served for some months, as the prisoner was not living at the address which I knew him at—after issuing the writ I
left the matter in Mr. Cooper's hands, and lie attended the summons and so on.
Cross-examined. When this writ was issued Watson owed me money for costs, nothing else—it was something under £100—the costs had been incurred before the dissolution, more than six years ago, and after—we had seen one another once or twice about it—I had not applied to him specifically for the money; I had not delivered a detailed bill and applied for payment—I knew him too well to be a gentleman who would pay if he could—I had not lent him money—at the time of the dissolution some of the business books were handed to us for the purpose of sueing—I never looked into them personally, and could not tell you what books they were, except that there were three—we have had those books from that day to this; we have never been applied to for them—I believe they were ledger, day-book, and cash-book—I never looked at them—it is not true that I knew this deed was a mere sham, and that the business was absolutely worthless; the suggestion is absolutely untrue—I did not know anything about the business; I was not to know it was worthless; it was not my business to know—I did not know that months before the dissolution no business had been done; I believed that business had been done, because the prisoner suggested that new money should be introduced into it, as it was a developing business, and I can produce a letter to corroborate that—I may have been at the business premises once; I am not quite sure; it is seven years ago—I don't believe any executions were put into the place before the dissolution—I don't know how many times the landlord had distrained for rent—I think I heard once something about the landlord, but I certainly did not hear that he had been in several times—I was only engaged for two months before the dissolution—I do not know the landlord—I did not know that he took the furniture for the rent; or that when executions where put in they were withdrawn because there was nothing to take—I do not believe the landlord took the furniture till after the dissolution—I never saw the banking account—I had no knowledge of the condition of this business got from the books—I think it ceased to exist some months after the dissolution; I cannot fix the time at all—I speak to the best of my belief—I do not know that the landlord had possession of the premises in August—I had no actual knowledge of the financial position of the business, except from what the parties told me, and that Mr. Watson had put in something like £1,100, I think—I never saw the pass book—the suggestion is absolutely untrue that this was not a real deed of dissolution—I cannot tell who made the valuation; the parties agreed between them; we were discussing it for two months—I never saw a valuation-the parties went into the figures and did it themselves, so far as I know—it was my suggestion that the books should be gone through and a statement got out, and Mr. Moody called on me at the instance of the partners—the deed recites that a valuation has been made of all the moneys, stock-in-trade, and so on—I took no steps to ascertain, what money was at the bank—the parties themselves went into the figures, as far as I know, at my suggestion, and agreed then—it was my suggestion that a third person should be employed, but they saved the expense and went into the matter themselves—I cannot say what the stock-in trade was—I do not know that there was nothing on the premises
—they may have been stationers as well as printers and publishers—I kept no memorandum showing what the money and what the stock-in-trade was; I took it from instructions—I was seeing them pretty well every day at that time—the books came into my possession afterwards, to take action on certain debts due to the firm, not at the time of the dissolution—I recovered some debts; I cannot tell you how much; we retained money—I am not sure the prisoner did not have some, but considerable sums were due to us for costs for actions brought against Mr. Watson and the prisoner before and after the dissolution—the deed was not an answer to them so far as Mr. Watson was concerned; they could not dissolve the partnership and denude themselves of all liability—I don't think more than three actions were brought after the dissolution; we successfully defended in two cases—I don't believe we allowed judgment to go against Mr. Watson—probably a dozen actions were brought on behalf of the firm; I cannot tell you how much was recovered—we can send for our ledger, which would show how much we recovered and passed to the credit of A. W. Letts and Co.—I cannot remember how soon after the dissolution I knew that the prisoner was in employment, several months—I have asked him about six times for the money—two or three times of the six times were in the Strand; once in Queen Victoria Street, and at my office; I cannot tell you the date I asked him at my office—I acted for him for some time after that—I asked him for the money several times within a period of two years afterwards—I saw him at the Lancaster Club in the Savoy—we had a conversation—I did not tell him I had that promissory note, and that he could have it for £50—we spoke about the promissory note; I don't think I mentioned it first—probably I told him I had it—I had it—it had been endorsed to me generally; I could not negotiate or deal with it—I got Watson's endorsement at the time of the partnership deed; the whole thing took place together—I did not know that the prisoner was in employment from some months after the transaction till now—after some time he seemed to keep out of my way, and I had no opportunity of inquiring—a few months after I heard he was in employment I do not know where he is employed now—I don't think I ever inquired—I knew his father lived at St. Ann's Vicarage, Stamford Hill; he is the vicar there, and has lived there all these years—this writ was not left there, I think; I think it was served at his own residence—I don't think I wrote to his father's house; I won't say for certain—his solicitor called on me after I issued the writ—I object to give our conversation, as, at his suggestion, it was to be strictly without prejudice—I think we have made inquiries where he is, and as to his position to pay the money under the judgment—before applying for a summons I wrote him this letter, asking for an explanation. (The letter was read. It called on the prisoner for an explanation of the statements in his affidavit, and stated that if the explanation were not satisfactory they would have to take steps)—I wanted to know whether the prisoner was in a position to explain the statements contained in his affidavit, which had taken us altogether by surprise—according to us it was a tissue of lies, but he might have refreshed his memory in the meantime, and tried to excuse himself—nothing passed between me and my client with regard to getting money by means of a summons at the Police-court
—I have heard of such a thing being done—I received this reply to my letter. (This stated that the witness acted for both parties when the deed of dissolution was drawn up; that the prisoner did not remember any valuation being made, and that as at the time of dissolution the business was moribund, and the capital practically lost, the prisoner was under the impression that he got no consideration for the promissory note for £500)—the statement that the business was moribund is untrue; it is only the statement of the solicitor who is now acting for him—I have not since that letter seen the man who was in the firm's employment, or the landlord—I was a party to the swearing of the information, as I was a witness to the deed.
Re-examined. After the dissolution the prisoner was seeking a new partner—this is the letter the prisoner wrote me on 28th June, 1887, two months before the dissolution. (This confirmed the offer he had made to let Watson give up his share in the business and receive £500, Letts taking over all liabilities and assets; or if Watson preferred to remain as a sleeping partner, Letts would pay him 10 per cent, of the net profits; and it stated that it was to be clearly understood that Watson was not to have any legal claim on Letts or the business for any sum until Watson could clearly show that Letts or the business could pay him the full amount with-out damaging the business)—in drawing up the deed of dissolution I got the figure £500 from both partners—the prisoner was the acting partner, and appeared to understand the business—I never heard, till the prisoner was at the Police-court, a suggestion that this deed was not intended to be a real deed—the prisoner was represented by Counsel at the Police-court, and we caused inquiries to be made as to his ability to pay—I think that was after judgment was obtained—I cannot say that I made inquiries before the writ was issued and served as to his ability to pay; Mr. Watson had thrown the responsibility on me—I should think my conversation with the prisoner at the Lancaster Club was in 1888—only he and I were present—he referred to the subject matter of the promissory note, and put it to me that as he was not now in a position to pay the principal moneys, would I use my influence with Mr. Watson to get him to take £50 in discharge of it—I said that I thought the proposition was too absurd—I don't think I ever submitted it to Mr. Watson—this is our ledger for County Court work at that period—there is no truth in the suggestion that I took out a summons at the Police-court in order to get money, or that Mr. Watson instructed me to do so.
WALTER KENWORTHY WATSON . I live at Southport—I know Mr. Letts; I entered into partnership with him—I cannot remember the date; I suppose it was on 1st November, 1886—he was then carrying on the business of a printer and stationer in Stanhope Street, Strand—I put money into the business; I think £100 in the first place, and afterwards £200, and after that £100; altogether, I think, about £500—I knew nothing about the business before—I supposed that Mr. Letts understood it; he took an active part in it—we continued in partnership till 24th August, 1887—I really could not say when we first talked of a dissolution; I
have no recollection—we talked of it for some months—I went to Mr. Grant as my solicitor—I believe Mr. Letts had been to him before; I am not certain—Mr. Letts introduced me to Mr. Grant, and he acted in the dissolution for both parties—I have been with Mr. Letts to see him—I believe Mr. Grant drew up the instruction, and we agreed to it—I signed this deed of dissolution on 24th August, and the assignment, too—I had agreed to pay £500 as my share—Letts agreed to give me a note of hand for £500 and £1,000 In cash, and I agreed to take it—he had not the cash, I suppose, to give me, and he gave me that note—the £500 was for my share of the business—the promissory note was not made for my accommodation—I don't know what the endorsement on it was—I endorsed it generally; I left it with Mr. Grant; he continued to be my solicitor—I saw him several times from time to time between 1887 and 1893, when the action was brought—I think I only saw Letts twice or three times—in 1893 I instructed Mr. Grant to bring an action—on 17th August, 1894, I swore an affidavit; this is it—I was the holder of the promissory note; I suppose it was for value—at the time of the making of the note Letts owed me £500.
Cross-examined. In this matter I acted under Mr. Grant's advice; I owed him some money—Letts' family and mine are known to each other; both families are in a respectable position—I was in the business for about two months before I joined him—I had no reason to suppose that he was not a thoroughly honourable man in every way—I did not keep the books; I think only a journal or ledger was kept—there was a cash-book—I did not keep the books; I had access to them—a man named Nicholson was in the employ, and an office-boy—Letts and I each drew £2 or £3 a week—I had been in the cotton business before this—we generally drew cheques jointly—if I remember rightly, we both signed them—we lost money on the business—the banking account ended in December, 1887; the balance was £5 9s. 4d.—I think that was a credit balance; I then left—we tried to get orders; I don't suppose there was any business doing—I think one execution was put in before I left—I believe we made some arrangement with the landlord—I have often made payments—I kept a small book called a cash-book—I think I left about a month after the dissolution—I don't remember the date—I believe the landlord took the office furniture—I do not know how often the landlord distrained—I do not know who the creditors were that put in executions—I do not know that the waste paper was sold to defray the office boy's expenses—I thought the prisoner might get a partner, and so be able to repay me the £500, or he might have expectations—I knew that he was going to be married—I knew that before Mr. Grant told me—I do not remember that he ever told me; I knew it myself—I think I read the deed of dissolution before I signed it—I think there was a valuation made; I forget by whom—I think we had somebody to make some sort of valuation—there was a little furniture, a few chairs and a desk—I could not say how much they would be worth—if at any time he was in a position to pay me this money, I thought he would do it—he took the whole thing over, and freed me entirely from the business—I did not know that the prisoner had got employment when our business came to an end; not for some time afterwards—I knew that he had been in employment since—I do not know why I endorsed this note to Mr.
Grant—I don't know how much I owed—I left the whole thing in Mr. Grant's hands—the idea was that I would wait for some time till Letts came into money—I don't know whose death I was to wait for—I simply asked Mr. Grant to recover the money—he suggested that I should get it out of Letts' father, who is a clergyman—I thought there was something about the Statute of Limitations—I think I met Mr. Grant twelve months before by appointment; he did not act for me till very recently—I think I had seen him twelve months before the case was started; we simply met, and talked the matter over—I believe Letts was in employment when this action was brought against him; I did not know where he was, or in what business—I suppose I knew where his father was living, if he was still in the same place; I could not swear that he was, I knew where he used to live—Mr. Grant advised me as to the judgment under Order 14, and about taking out a summons at the Police-court—I suppose I thought that would be a good way of getting the money—I think Mr. Grant showed me the letter he had written; I authorised him to do his best to get the money, but I have not seen the letter before—I believe I had instructed him to write the letter—it was not with the idea that the prisoner's friends would find the money; it was to get the money—he might have come to some arrangement—I can't remember whether Mr. Grant showed me the letter he wrote on 26th September; I believe I remember that letter—I have got several letters of Mr. Grant's here—I don't remember the prisoner's answer—I don't remember Mr. Grant showing it to me—I left the matter entirely in the hands of Mr. Grant altogether—I would not say that there is anything in that letter which is not true—I think the letter is perfectly true.
The RECORDER here expressed his opinion that after this evidence it would be difficult for the JURY to find a verdict of Guilty.
The JURY stated that they were unanimous in finding a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
68. HENRY MANN (36) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Alfred Charles Biggs, with intent to steal, and afterwards breaking out of the said dwelling-house; also to breaking and entering the warehouse of Henry Wood, and stealing 7d.
Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RADFORD Prosecuted.
STEPHEN HERBERT VILVANE . I am a commercial traveller—on 22nd November, about 5.40 a.m., my servant called me, and made a statement to me—I got up and went downstairs, and in my breakfast parlour I found the prisoner with his boots off, asleep in one of the easy chairs—the gas was alight—I went up and asked the prisoner how he got there—he said he could not remember, and he put on his boots very hurriedly—I then noticed this handbag, which I had left locked on the table the nigh More, lying at his feet—it was cut, and this box containing indiarubbe stamps, which had been inside, was outside on the hearthrug—I asked the prisoner if he could account for its being cut—he said he could not—
Inside the bag there were still business papers and 16s.—going to the station I saw the prisoner throw away a packet of tobacco that I had opened the previous morning—I thought it was only the tinfoil wrapper, but as I returned from the station I saw it lying in the gutter, and pointed it out to the constable, who picked it up—in the breakfast-room I saw the curtain was disarranged, and I concluded that he had got in through the window—there was a table under the window, the full width of the window, and to get in a man would have to walk across the table, and in doing so he had kicked aside the curtain.
Cross-examined. The inspector saw me open the bag at the station.
EMMA KNOCK . I am servant to the last witness—on 21st November, when I went to bed, everything was safely locked up—the window was fastened—when I came down next morning I found the prisoner sleeping in a chair; the gas was alight—I told my master, who came down—after the prisoner had been taken away I found this knife—it does not belong to the house—the window fastens with an ordinary catch, which could be pushed back with a knife.
EDWARD EDWARDS (357 N). At 6.5 a.m., on 22nd November, I was called to 39, Grosvenor Road, Canonbury, by the last witness, and I saw the prisoner sitting in a chair—I asked him how he accounted for being there—he said he did not know how he got there—I examined the window, and found it unfastened—the catch was down; the curtains had been disarranged—he was taken to the station and charged, and he again said he did not know how he got there—he afterwards said he wished another charge entered against him, that of deserting from the 14th Hussars.
ALFRED BAILEY (Inspector G). On the morning of 22nd November I was called to 39, Grosvenor Road, Canonbury—I found a freshly-made bright mark on the brass work of the window catch—after I had charged the prisoner I showed him this knife, and said, "This knife was found on the floor near where you were sitting"—he said, "I don't know anything about it. It does not belong to me, and I cannot see why I can be charged with stealing that bag."
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he won money upon a horse race and got drunk, and that when he came round in the morning, he found himself in custody.
He then PLEADED GUILTY* to a conviction of felony in November, 1892, in the name of John James, at this Court.— Fifteen Months Hard Labour.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted.
CHARLES LATHAM . I am a pawnbroker, of 28, Shepperton Road, Islington—I left home at seven p.m., on 28th November, the doors were then perfectly secure and double locked—I came back at 1.30 a.m. on 29th, and found my house in the possession of the police and the shutters were down—the lock had been broken off the door, but the door was not open—I put the key in the lock, and the tongue of the lock fell down—I entered and found nothing disturbed; no one had entered the house.
taken down, and I looked down the road, and saw the prisoner and another man taking down the shutters at No. 28, while another man on the other side of the road kept observation—I chased them—they all ran away—I caught the prisoner, knocked him down and held him till another constable came—he had this brick in his hand—I blew my whistle for assistance—another constable came and the prisoner was taken to the station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not pass me about two minutes before I heard the noise, when I was at the corner—I caught you fifty yards from the shop—the two men that ran away ran through Rose-mary Street, and this jemmy was found there by a private person about 8.30 that morning.
CHARLES COLLETTE (Inspector N). At 2.15 a.m., on November 29th, I inspected these premises in Shepperton Road, and I found that the shutter bar had been forced off by an instrument and four shutters had been taken down—there were four distinctive marks on the door made by an instrument—the marks exactly correspond with this jemmy, which was brought to the station afterwards—the lock had been forced and was hanging, but the door had not been opened.
Cross-examined. It was about thirty or forty yards from the pawn-broker's shop, I suppose.
The prisoner, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, stated that he was on his way home; that he passed the constable, and then saw two men at the shutters; that they ran off on seeing him, and that the constable came and arrested him.
GUILTY **— Ten Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, December 10th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ELI CONTER (Police Sergeant H). On the afternoon of November 10th I was with Pearce in Brick Lane, City Road, and saw the prisoner—we followed him through various streets for an hour and a half, to Fann Street, where we lost him, and a few minutes afterwards found him in a coach house—I took him to the station and said, "What have you got about you?"—he produced this bag from under his coat and said, "This is all the counterfeit coin I have got about me"—I found in it seven counterfeit florins in one packet and two in another in tissue paper—I said "These are bad"—he said, "Yes"—he was charged and made no reply.
WILLIAM PEARCE . (Detective H). I was with Conter and followed the prisoner—I searched him at the station and found a pocket knife with plaster of Paris in the nick, a piece of white metal, a packet of cyanide of potassium with "Sayer, surgeon, Brick Lane," on it, a piece of copper wire, a file, some tissue paper, and a purse containing a halfpenny and some silver and bronze.
—these five florins are counterfeit and these other two also, and all are from one mould—these two half-crowns are bad, one of them is unfinished, and both are from the same mould—all these articles are used for coining, and this is part of a get.
Prisoners defence. I met a friend who asked me to give these things to his wife, and I told the sergeant so.
GUILTY.—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at this COURT on July 30th, 1888, in the name of William Davis. The JURY then found him
GUILTY of felony. Six other convictions were proved against him, and he had been twice sentenced to Seven Years Penal Servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
GERTRUDE PIKE . I am barmaid at the Ship, Grove Passage, Hackney—on November 5th, between five and six o'clock, the prisoner came in with Blackaller. (See next case)—he tendered me a florin for three halfpennyworth of gin and a glass of ale, making 2 & f 12; d.—I tested the florin and found it was bad—I called the landlord and gave it to him.
CHARLES FINCHAM SIMONDS . I keep the Ship Inn—on November 23rd Pike called my attention to a florin—I asked the prisoners where they got it—they said from Mr. Taffs, a confectioner in the Grove—I said, "If you got it there I will cut it, and you can take it hack and say that Mr. Simonds cut it, and you can get it changed"—he paid for the drink with a good half-crown, and I gave him two good shillings and threepence halfpenny, and cut a piece out of the coin—I have not seen it since—I followed them out and spoke to the prisoner; we followed them to the Plaistow Arms—the man looked into the private bar and then they both went into the middle bar—I went into another compartment where they could not see me, and a policeman in uniform-was outside-the man put a florin down, so that it rang well, and asked Laura Chambers for three halfpennyworth of gin and a glass of mild ale—she put it on the shelf and gave them change—I called out to her, "What coin did they give you, because it is bad, whatever it is"—the man said he wanted to speak to his brother—I said, "You are not going out"—the barman called the landlady, and a good coin was brought from the shelf—I said, "That is not it," another was brought, and was found to be bad—they said that that was the one that was passed at my place—I said, "No, because I cut that," and I then cut this one.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not give the coin back to Blackaller; he asked me if I knew him by coming in to dinner—I said, "Yes," to throw him off his guard.
LAURA CHAMBERS . I assist in the bar at the Plaistow Arms; the proprietor is my cousin—on the evening of November 23rd the prisoner and Blackaller came in, and the man asked for three halfpennyworth of gin and a penny glass of beer, and gave me a florin—I took it for a good one, put it on the shelf, and gave him the change—there were some shillings on the shelf and one other florin—Simonds came in and asked me what coin they had passed, and I took the wrong florin—he said, "No, that is not the one"—the prisoners were taken into custody.
HENRY RISBRIDGE (48 JR). On November 23rd I met Mr. Simonds, and with him followed the prisoner and Blackaller through several streets to the Plaistow Arms—I saw Mr. Simonds go into the centre bar—I went in and he had this coin in his hand, and cut it in my presence, and asked Blackaller where the coin was which he tendered at my shop—he said, "This is it"—Mr. Simonds said, "That is a lie, for I cut it, and nobody would take it"—Smith said it was very hard to get into trouble, as she had only just met Blackaller—I took her to the station, where she put on a desk nine good shillings, six sixpences, nineteen pence, and four half-pence—she went into a room with the female searcher, but nothing was produced—she gave her address 5, Barton Street, Hoxton Street, and Blackaller gave the same address, which was correct—Blackaller's mother lived there, but Smith never slept there.
MATHEW BRANCH . I am foremam to Mr. Taff, who keeps a sweetstuffshop in the Grove, Hackney—Blackaller worked for him up to October 23rd, 1893—he was not there on November 23rd—he could not have received a bad florin there, unless he took it a year ago.
Smith's statement before the Magistrate: "I took a parcel to pawn for my daughter, and I had the money on me when I was arrested."
Witness for the defence.
Prisoner's defence. I met Blackaller, and drank with him, and went with him—I did not know he had got any bad coin.
GUILTY.—She then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of a like offence at Reading on November 11th, 1890, in the name of Ann Williams. The JURY then found her GUILTY of felony. (See next case.)
GUILTY .—SMITH had been twice sentenced to five years and once to six years' penal servitude— Six Years' Penal Servitude. BLACKALLER— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
74. ROBERT JOHN SEXTON (21) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a receipt for 20s., with intent to defraud; also to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a letter containing two orders for the payment of money, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General —
Nine Months Hard Labour.
75. ALFRED CAIN (18) , to unlawfully attempting to commit suicide; also to stealing a Post Office Savings Bank book, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General; also to forging and uttering an order for the payment of money; also to forging a receipt for 12s., with intent to defraud— Judgment respited. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
76. ALFRED FRANCIS JONES (27) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a letter containing a bill of exchange for £17 14s. 3d., the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General— To enter into recognizances. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
77. FRANK BRIEN BAKER (28) , to causing a letter to be stolen in 1888 containing £60, the money of Her Majesty's Postmaster General— The prisoner gave himself up to the police, after going to Africa for six years.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
78. FREDERICK CHARLES HOLLAND (25) , to stealing, while employed in the Post Office, a letter containing forty-two penny postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Post-master-General.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
79. HARRY AUGUSTUS KRUSE (27) , to breaking and entering the shop of the Express Dairy Company, and stealing two brushes, a bottle of bovril, and other articles; also to stealing two pawn tickets, the property of George Judd, having been convicted at the North London Police-court on April 11th, 1892.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
80. GEORGE HILL (28) , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Joseph Walker, and stealing an overcoat and other articles; also to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Joseph Head, and stealing a coat and other articles.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, December 11th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
83. SIDNEY NEVILLE PEAKE (32) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences certain valuable securities and certain quantities of wine from various persons; also to unlawfully obtaining credit by false pretences.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. FARELLY Prosecuted.
DAVID ABRAHAMS (Policeman 90 H). I arrested the prisoner at 11 a.m. at Christian Street, Commercial Road, on the information of Israel Sanderwick and Frederick Fraser—the prisoner said he could not speak English, would I interpret to him what Sanderwick said?—I did so—I read Sanderwick's statement to him; it was as follows "About 11 a.m. a countryman of mine (the prisoner) came to my house, 21, Filbert Street, with a watch, and said, How much is that watch worth? I said, "25s.; he said, I have paid a deposit on it, but the man wants 27s. for it; he then went away; on Tuesday, 16th, at 6 p.m., I was at 21, Greenfield Street. The prisoner came and said, 'Will you buy this ticket, as I have pawned the watch I showed you yesterday, as I require the money urgently?"
I asked where it was pawned, and he replied, 'at Mr. Fisher's, in Commercial Road, for 8s.; the prisoner then said, 'if you will give me 8s. for the ticket you can get the watch out of pawn when you like.' I then gave him 8s. for the ticket; about six p.m., on the 14th, I went to Mr. Fisher's to get the watch out of pawn. Mrs. Fisher endorsed the ticket, and gave it up on affidavit."—Then came the statement of Frederick Fisher, assistant pawnbroker—I read that, and interpreted it to him: "About 8.30 a.m. on the 14th November the prisoner came to my shop, 116, Commercial Road, and informed me that he was made drunk or drugged, and robbed of the ticket of his watch, and he applied to me for a declaration form for an affidavit, which was granted by the Magistrate at Thames Police-court; the prisoner brought back the declaration form; he asked whether he would require to take the watch out of pawn at the same time; the prisoner said, 'No, I will pay the interest and take a new ticket"—I then told him I should take him into custody on the charge—he replied, "All right, all right"—at the station he was told that he would be detained for perjury and obtaining money by false pretences—he said, "All right, I will stop here"—when I read the charge to him he made no answer—on the way to the Police-court he said, "Well, if I get a few months I suppose I shall have to do it and put up with it"—he said that in English.
FREDERICK FRASER . I am assistant to Louisa Funnell Fisher, pawn-broker—on 13th November the prisoner pledged a watch for 8s. in the name of John Jacobs, 13, Princes Square—I issued a pawn-ticket, No. 1720—I had seen the prisoner before; I knew his face well—on the 14th the prisoner came again, about 8.30 a.m., and said he had lost his pawnticket, and it must have been stolen from him—he then said he had been made drunk, and the ticket had been stolen from him in the club—he asked for a form of declaration, which I gave him—about nine he brought it back, and asked for a new ticket—he paid the interest, and had a new ticket—this is the declaration; I saw him make a X on it, in the shop—he spoke in Yeddish—on the first occasion he brought a little girl with him—she said the same as he did, that he had had the ticket stolen from him—he spoke a little English; I could understand what he said without an interpreter—the watch was worth about 17s. or 18s.—this is the second ticket I gave him, No. 1877.
CHARLES DEANE . I am assistant clerk at the Thames Police-court—the prisoner brought this declaration there—I asked him if his name was Jacob Baderman—he said, "Yes"—I asked if he had lost the ticket—he said, "Yes"—I then asked the witness his name, and if he identified this man as Jacob Baderman—he said, "Yes, I came with him to the Court" my questions to him were few and simple; he appeared to understand them; he only answered yes or no in English—after it had been duly declared it was brought out to me, signed by the Magistrate, and I handed it back to the prisoner.
"Twenty-five shillings"—he said they wanted 27s., and he should like to buy it—next morning (Monday) he came again and said, "I have bought it for 26s. 6d."—on Tuesday, before dusk, he came again and said, "I have to sell the ticket"—I said, "What ticket?"—he said, "The ticket of the watch that I bought. I have pawned it at Fisher's, and you can redeem it"—I gave him 8s. for the ticket—on Wednesday I went with the mistress of the house to the pawnbroker's and showed him the ticket—he told me something, and I went to Leman Street Police-station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It was at 21, Greenfield Street, that you sold me the ticket—a man was present—he is not here; he is afraid to come, as you are a fighter.
SAMUEL BAUM . I am a machiner—the prisoner bought this watch of me for 18s. on Sunday night—on Wednesday morning he came to me and said he had lost it, it had been stolen—I told him to go to the pawn-brokers and give notice—he went away, and returned about eight with a little girl, and said he had found out where it was pawned, and asked me to go with him to Arbour Square—I did so, and witnessed his declaration.
WOLF COHEN . The prisoner was in my employment—I was security for him to a traveller, for some cloth for a dress to his wife, he had it made up—he left me in March, and did not come back to work—I demanded of him to pay the traveller—he said he had no means—I heard that he was going to America—he told me he had pawned the dress for 7s., and he gave me the ticket and I gave it to the traveller, and went with him to redeem it, and when the pawnbroker saw the ticket he said it had been already redeemed, and he cancelled the ticket—I asked the prisoner why he did this, and he replied, "Do what you like"—he told me the ticket was for the dress, but it was for a coat and trousers; I can't read.
FREDERICK FRASER (Recalled). I have a ticket of 30th April, 1894, it is No. 3949—I issued it to the prisoner—on 7th June he came and asked for a declaration form; he had one given him—I saw him make a X on it—on 8th June he signed it before the Magistrate, and I issued a new ticket—on 28th June Cohen brought me the original ticket, and I told him the things had been taken out.
The prisoner called
THOMAS GREEN . The prisoner was at my place for a few weeks—he told me about this—he said he had been playing cards with some company and lost his money; and then he pawned his watch and lost that money also, and then he lost the ticket, and he asked me to advise him what to do—I told him to go to the pawnbroker's and stop the ticket.
The prisoner, in his defence, alleged that he was playing cards with three females and others, and that he had been robbed of his watch and money, and being a foreigner did not know what to do.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
85. HERBERT CHARLES BROCK (48) PLEADED GUILTY to emezzbling £250 from the National Guardian Assurance Company, his employers; also to other embezzlements and to omitting certain particulars from the books of the said company.
His deficiencies were stated to amount to £7,000.— Six Years' Penal Servitude.
86. HARRY VILLIERS BARNETT (36) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining £2 from Sophia Bottacri by false pretences; also to feloniously forging and uttering orders for the payment of £5 and £5 15s. 9d.; also to stealing eight blank cheque forms of John Mansey Collyer.
He received an excellent character as an artist and, journalist, but was stated, after a serious illness, to have taken to drink, which had led to his downfall.— Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
THOMAS DEXTER NEED . I am a bookbinder living at 42, Oxford Road, Baling—on Sunday night, November 25th, about live or ten minutes to eleven, I was in Brunswick Place when the prisoner and four others came up and asked me to pay for drink—I said, No, I was in a hurry, I wanted to get home—they said if I did not pay for drink they would make me—they surrounded me; I felt a hand in my pocket; another one had his arm round my waist, and another had his arm round my neck—then I received a blow on the temple, and one on the forehead, and one on the nose—the second blow on the temple stunned me, and I fell down—when I was on the ground several men were kneeling over me searching and rifling my pockets and taking possession of all I had—I had 13s. or 14s. in my pocket—I was kicked on different parts of my body—I became insensible—I am certain the prisoner was in the company of the men when they asked me for drink—I was taken to the station and my wounds were dressed—when I came to myself I felt in my pockets and missed all my 13s. or 14s.—about four or five next morning I saw the prisoner at the station by himself and I recognised him as one of the men who assaulted me—I am in fairly good health now, but I am not in such good health as I was before this took place—I was the worse for drink on this night—besides my money I missed two keys and a silver scarfpin.
Cross-examined. When I saw the prisoner at the station he was stand ing with some of the policemen—I recognised him more by his features than his clothes; I did not take particular notice of his clothes—I noticed his clothes at the Police-court—I saw he was dressed then a deal like one of the men who attacked me—I never saw any of the four or five men before—I cannot say which man first spoke to me, or which first struck me—it all took place in a very short time—I was from twelve to twenty yards from a public-house when it happened—I had taken more drink than was good for me—I was kept at the station that night, and was charged with being drunk—the Magistrate did not fine me—it was not till five next morning that I recognised the prisoner.
Re-examined. Before the Magistrate I said that the prisoner was dressed like one of the men who attacked me.
BENJAMIN BEVAN . I am a boot-laster—I live at 15, Simon Street, Bethnal Green—on Sunday night, 25th November, I was in Brunswick Place, which leads from Pitfield Street to City Road, and I saw the prosecutor being molested by three or four lads, one of whom took some instrument or other from his inside pocket and struck the prosecutor about the head and face—the prosecutor fell—two men went on to the ground with him,
and shortly after they ran away—the prisoner was one of them—I halloaed out—a policeman came up, and I said something to him—I did not lose sight of the prisoner—I afterwards saw him in custody—I went and fetched an ambulance, and the prosecutor was taken to the station—he was insensible, and bleeding very much—I am quite sure the prisoner was one of the men.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor was attacked a few yards from the public-house—two men ran towards Pitfield Street and two towards City Road—the prisoner was one of the two who went towards City Road—I saw two men kneeling over the prosecutor when he was on the ground—they both ran off in the same direction, towards the City Road—I was near the City Road end of Brunswick Place, and they passed me; one was the prisoner—the second two, who were kneeling down, got away—I saw the policeman coming down with the man in custody—I did not actually see him stop either of the men—they did not get as far as the end of Brunswick Place—to the best of my belief, the prisoner was under the influence of drink—I did not hear him say that he had just come up and went to look at the man on the ground—since his committal for trial he has been on bail—I do not know that he has been a stall-keeper for ten years in that neighbourhood—my mother lives in that neighbourhood, and I know it very well—I have seen the prisoner at a stall there, I cannot say whether he keeps it; I believe he is a very respectable man—I believe for three or four years I have seen him at the stall.
Re-examined. I did not see the prisoner before the prosecutor was knocked down—I first noticed him as he and another ran by me—the only thing I knew him by was his dress—as far as I know I believe he has been misled into it by a gang—I should think he got about thirty yards from me before the policeman caught him—it was 11 15 or 11.20 when it took place; no one came out of the public-house at that time so far as I know—the prisoner was one of the two men who ran towards the City Road.
JESSE LAMB (368 G). I was on duty on Sunday night, 25th November, near Brunswick Place—I heard a noise, and ran in the direction of it, and saw a crowd of nine or ten, who ran away—I next saw two men get up from what appeared to be a man, and run towards the City Road—I went and saw the prisoner, who was leaning over the feet of the man, get up and run away towards the City Road—I caught him after chasing him for twelve or fifteen yards, and brought him back—I asked him what he was doing; he said, "I will come back with you, but I did not do anything"—I saw the prosecutor there lying insensible on the pavement in a pool of blood—I sent Bevan for an ambulance, and took the prosecutor on it to the station—I sent for a doctor, who dressed the prosecutor's wounds—the prisoner was picked out by prosecutor the next day, and by Bevan the same night—the prosecutor was insensible from 11.20 or 11.30 till five a.m.—the men I saw stooping over the prosecutor were from ten to fifteen yards from me when I first saw them—two of them got away before the prisoner got up—the prisoner was standing at the man's feet, and there was the difference of the length of the prosecutor's body between the two men who escaped and the prisoner—I had to go twelve or fifteen yards before I caught the prisoner; he was running.
Cross-examined. This is not a particularly dark place where this occurred; it is rather darker than a main street—the crowd of nine or ten were ten yards away from the prosecutor and the prisoner and the other two, I should think—they were standing still, and, as soon as they saw me, they ran away—I saw two men leaning over the prosecutor's head, and a third man near his feet—the prisoner ran towards the City Road and towards me—I took the prisoner back to the prosecutor, and saw Bevan standing very near there, and I went up to him with the prisoner—the prosecutor saw the prisoner next morning at five standing by himself in the station—I don't know if he was placed with others and picked out; I was relieved before that—on the remand the prisoner was liberated on bail—I should like to add that during the time I was detaining the prisoner and asking for the ambulance a young woman came up and said to the prisoner, "I knew you would get it if you came these games"—I gave my evidence on the first hearing, and it was read to me on the remand—I did not mention that observation of the young woman on either occasion; I did not think of it till to-day.
Re-examined. The light in the street was sufficient for me to see the prisoner leaning over the prosecutor, and to see him run away and catch him—I did not lose sight of him before I caught him—the public-house lamps were out.
WALTER PAGE , M.R.C.S. I live at 2, Kingsland Road—on this Sunday night I was sent for to the Hoxton Station shortly after midnight to examine the prosecutor—I found him in a stunned condition, insensible—he was suffering from several injuries" about the head and face—he had several contused wounds on the bridge of his nose with fracture of the nasal bone; a wound on the forehead and another on the top of his head—he was suffering from shock, and also from drink—the injuries were inflicted with a loaded stick or blunt piece of iron—I think the injury to the nasal bone was too severe to have been caused by a kick—I think it must have been caused by some blunt instrument—he began to recover after half or three-quarters of an hour, but he still suffered from the effects of drink, and was not able to give an account of himself—I think a blow on the head would be quite sufficient to account for that if he had not been drinking.
----MEREDITH (Inspector G). I took the charge against the prisoner of being concerned, with others not in custody, in stealing about 14s. from Thomas Need, and also being concerned with assaulting him by striking him on the head with some blunt instrument—his reply was, "Me, Higgy, and Jack were there; I did not strike a blow, neither did I have any of his money."
Cross-examined. I did not put into writing what the prisoner said—he did not say, "Me, Higgy, and Jack were together"—my deposition was read to and signed by me—he may have said, "Me, Higgy, and Jack were there together"—he said "there"—he was there from twelve till about five before he was charged, and he made several remarks at different times, but I took no notice of those—when the assault was being dealt with I said, "Who was with you?"—he did not then say, "Me, Higgy, and Jack were together"—at five o'clock, when the charge was formally entered on the charge-sheet, he made the observation about himself,
Higgy, and Jack—he had not said anything before that as to whom he was with, but I had asked him in whose company he was.
Re-examined. When charged he said, "Me, Higgy, and Jack were there together, but I did not strike any blow or have any of the money"—nothing was mentioned about the money till then, because the man had not regained his senses before that, and we had no charge of stealing money before us.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, December 11th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
88. JOHN ADDLESTON (34) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining £5 13s. from Edward John Glyde and £1 15s. from William Edelstein by false pretences; also to uttering an order for £4 7s. 6d.; also an order for £5 7s.; also to feloniously receiving two blank cheque forms of August Villiers, knowing them to be stolen.— Judgment respited. And
MR. BROMLEY Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
WILLIAM FORDER . I am employed by Messrs. Genese and Judd—on November 30th I was sent out with a trolly and eight parcels for one carrier, and one for another—I took them all to Sutton and Co. in Golden Lane about 3.50—I took eight parcels in, leaving one on the trolly, which was for Curtis—when I came out the parcel was gone—this (produced) is one of the coats which was in it.
Cross-examined. Golden Lane, where my trolly was, is about two minutes' walk from Cripplegate Street.
THOMAS BETERIDGE (City Detective). On November 30th, about twelve o'clock, I was in Golden Lane, and saw a man loitering there, and the prisoner loitering in Cripplegate Street—the prisoner was apparently watching the other man who I lost sight of, but afterwards saw him carrying a large parcel—the prisoner joined him, and they went away together, the other man carrying the parcel—I followed them 100 yards into Fann Street, where the prisoner took the parcel, and they proceeded together as far as Goswell Road, where they separated, one taking one side of the road, and one the other—I followed the prisoner to Old Street, stopped him, and said, "What have you got in that parcel?"—he looked at me—I said, "I am a police officer"—he said, "Well, to tell the truth, old man, a man has just given me the parcel, and told me to take it to the first public-house on the right, and wait for him"—I said, "Where did he give it to you?"—he said, "Here, in Goswell Road"—I said, "Who is he?"—he said, "I don't know; he is a stranger to me, but I should know him again"—I took
him to Moor Lane with assistance, and made inquiries, and found the parcel was stolen from Golden Lane—I charged him with stealing it—he said, "I ought not to be here"—the parcel contained fifteen boys' overcoats—the Magistrate allowed the others to be given up—this was at four p.m., and the street was crowded—he gave his name "Goodin," but no address—I found on him this cloth cap, and a bag made of very light material, called a swag bag.
Cross-examined. Cripplegate Street turns out of Golden Lane at right angles, so that he could not see the trolly—the parcel was as much as he could carry; I carried it—he did not resist, but I could not carry the parcel and take him at the same time—he said that the man who came up to him asked him if he wished to earn a bob—there are porters about who earn money by taking odd jobs.
Re-examined. He passed several public-houses.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on January 20th, 1890.—Four other convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Month's Hard Labour.
MR. ST. AUBYN Prosecuted.
EMMA ROBERTS . I am the mother of the last witness, and am a widow—I live at the business premises in Lupus Street—on December 7th I went to see the house all right at 11.30, and heard footsteps coming up stairs—I ran to the street door and saw a policeman on the other side of the street—the prisoner then came up my area steps, and jumped over the area gate—he said, "You are looking for that man?"—I said "Yes"—he said, "I have been watching for him"—I said, "Why did not you ring the bell and tell me?"—he said, "Because I wanted to see what he was doing: I know him; I saw him drinking in the Gun public-house"—I sent for my son, and a second policeman came—we went into the basement, and found the glass broken and the bolt drawn back, and the workshop window pulled down, and the lock of one of the rooms forced.
ALFRED RUSSELL (258 B). On December 7th, at 11.50, I was on point duty—Mr. Roberts told me something, and I saw the prisoner come up the area and jump over the railings, as the gate was locked—he said, "I have been watching him a considerable time; I have just come from the Gun public-house, and saw him speaking to two women, one with a baby in her arms"—I found a knife, a latch-key, a pipe, and a halfpenny on him; the knife has a lancet in it.
CHARLES PORTER (Police Inspector V). The prisoner was brought to the station at midnight—he said, "I was never over the railings, and you did not see me get over; I came up afterwards"—I examined the house; the entry was effected by climbing over the area railings, breaking a pane of glass, entering by a window, and forcing the bolt off a door.
Prisoner's defence. On the night of the 30th I saw this man there—several places had been broken into; I was trying to find out by whom on behalf of a detective—I went round the corner, and heard the glass
break; I went back, and the woman came to the door and the man ran away—I waited there while they searched the house, and told the constable and the lady what I had seen—I could have gone away easily if I wished.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of burglary on 2nd March, 1885, at this Court, and four other convictions were proved against him.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. KERSHAW Prosecuted.
GEORGE EDWARD DUMBLETON . I am a greengrocer, of 228, Kilburn Lane, Chelsea—on November 22nd, about 10.3C, I locked the house up—I was called about 1.30 next morning, found somebody had broken in, and missed about 100 oranges—a pane of glass was cut away, and the putty on one side removed—the opening was large enough for a man to get in.
CHARLES LANGFORD (14 X R). I was in Kilburn Lane, and heard some glass fall—I went in that direction, and saw the prisoner come out of the shop window of No. 228, feet first—I went a little further to look for another constable and then went towards him, and he and a man not in custody ran away—I followed them and caught the prisoner—he said, "All right, governor"—I said, "It is not all right, you will have to come back"—he had two bundles of oranges in one hand and some grapes in the other—he put his leg between mine, and we both fell—I said it he was rough I should be rough, too—he took a bottle of wine out of his pocket, and said, "Have a drink?"—I said, "No more of that"—I took him to the station, and then went to the shop, and found the window had been cut—I found an American glass-cutter on him and fifteen oranges.
The prisoner produced a written defence, stating that he did not come out at the window, but that he picked up the knife and the fruit at the corner of the street.
GUILTY — Four Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, December 12th, 1894.
For cases tried this day, see Surrey Cases.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, December 13th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
93. LORENZO MEZZA (18), ALFONSO FORTI (30), and SALVATORE EVANGESTA (25), were indicted for feloniously wounding Michaeli Dinverno with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.
MR. BURNIE Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
The prisoners being Italians, the evidence was interpreted to them. A
discussion occurred as to the mode in which the interpretation should take place. MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS ruled that, although the prisoners were defended by Counsel, the Evidence should be interpreted to them in case they might find it necessary to correct any error, or make suggestions to their Counsel.
MICHAELI DINVERNO . I understand English a little—I live at 4, Bath Court, Clerkenwell—I am an Italian, and am an artist's model—about eight on the evening of 12th November I was in the Crown public-house in Back Hill, Holborn, in the bagatelle-room—several others were there, amongst them the three prisoners—we were playing a game called mora; it is played as "master and foreman," with the fingers—six of us were playing; the prisoners and two others—I don't know their names—we were playing for beer—Forti was foreman, and Bianci was master—we had had the beer on my side—the mister and foreman did what they liked with it—Mezza was not anything; he wanted two glasses of beer—I told him it was none of his business, because when he was master and foreman he had done as he liked—he said, "Well, I want two glasses of beer," and he got up from the seat, and was going out at the back, and I saw him leaning up against the bagatelle board in the room—as I was passing he called me something; I don't know what it was—I turned round, and asked him what he meant—we had a few words, and then he had his hand in his pockets, and he took it out, and up with his hand, and hit me on the head—I don't know whether it was a knife or a razor that he took put—I did not see what it was, but it cut my right hand—I stepped back, and looked at my hand and when I looked up he was gone—I heard someone struggling behind me, and as I went to turn round I heard Salvatore say that the three had been waiting for me for five or six days, and as he said that he hit me on the neck with a razor—I did not see him then, but as I finished to turn round I saw him running out of the door with the razor in his hand—I did not exactly see him strike me, he was right at the back of me—I was struck from behind the ear on the left side—for the moment I was still, I did not move at all—I asked someone that was near to take me to the hospital—the blood was squirting out from my throat like a fountain—I walked three or four yards and then had a cab—I remained in the hospital till the 5th of December.
Cross-examined. Up to the time of this dispute over the game we had been all perfectly friendly—Mezza wanted the two glasses of beer—I used no bad language—I know Maestra Colla—he was there, and Bianci; he was playing the game, I think they could see everything that occurred—I did not see Bonetti—I did not try to get away—I did not push Salvatore or Forti—I was once charged with assault and convicted; that has nothing to do with this case—immediately after Mezza struck me Salvatore attacked me—I do not remember saying at the Police-court that Salvatore said, "We have waited for you five or six days"—I have thought of it lots of times, but I did not remember it at the time—Delucca is the man that took me to the hospital—I don't know whether he is a relation of mine; he has only recently come from Italy—I have been in London all my life—he is a very great friend—he does not live in the same house.
—on November 12th, about eight at night, I was at the Crown public-house on Back Hill, in the bagatelle-room—there were about ten or twelve there with the prosecutor and the three prisoners—they were playing mora I had one game with them; I was not in the game of "master and foreman," and not in the dispute—I saw Salvatore with a knife or razor in his hand—I thought they were chaffing—I heard Salvatore say, "Five or six days we have waited for this"—four or five minutes after that I saw the prosecutor with a cut in his throat, but I did not see the razor when he cut it—I saw Salvatore with his hand across the prosecutor's neck—before that I heard the prosecutor say to Mezza, "Let me alone"—Salvatore's wife then came and took him away—I saw the other two prisoners with something in their hands, I know they were blades, but I can't say whether they were knives or razors—I saw Mezza and the prosecutor speaking to each other, like a quarrel—when I saw the prosecutor struck I caught hold of Forti and held him fast, not to go to the prosecutor—Forti had a knife in his hand and was going towards the prosecutor, and I caught hold of him and said, "Don't do anything wrong"—while I was holding Forti, Salvatore re-entered the room—it was then I saw his hand across the prosecutor's throat, and I then relinquished Forti and ran to the prosecutor's assistance and caught hold of him, because I saw him almost fainting, falling to the back—I sent for a cab and took him to the hospital—I found his throat up with three handkerchiefs to stop the bleeding—the prisoners ran away, I did not see them again—after we came out of the hospital the inspector and the police with my assistance went in search of the prisoners—soon after eleven we found Mezza in bed at his lodgings—I spoke to him in Italian—he said to the police, "I will come with you, but I have done nothing"—as we were going to the station we met Forti, and I pointed him out to the police, who took him—I spoke to him in Italian—he spoke to me first, and said, "Who is this man that takes me?"—I said, "This is a policeman"—he said, "What is the good of his taking me when I have done nothing?"
Cross-examined. I am no relation of the prosecutor's—the prosecutor did not push, strike, or knock down Salvatore or Forti; he did nothing at all.
OLYMPIO PETRUCIO . I am manager of the Crown, and have been so for eighteen months—Verioni is the landlord, and has been so for that time about eight in the evening of 12th November I was having my supper in the back room, I heard a noise in the bagatelle-room—I went in and saw the prosecutor and the three prisoners—they were talking back, one to the other—I said, "I don't want any row in my house," and I said to Mezza, "Take your hands out of your pocket"—he took them out, and put them in again—I then saw them all go back to the door—I saw Salvatore with a razor in his hand—I was frightened, and drew back—I did not see anything in the hands of the others at that moment—I did not see what happened after that—I saw the prosecutor leaning against the bagatelle board—he did not fall down—when I put Forti out he had a knife in his hand; I made him drop it—I heard someone say, "Go for a policeman," and two minutes after the policeman came Forti came back—he said, "What is it? What do you want?" and he said, "I want him"—a man who was inside handed me this cap (produced); I
think it belongs to Salvatore, but I can't say—my wife handed me this knife, which I saw her pick up from the floor; it was open—it is Forti's knife.
Cross-examined. I did not see any blood on it—when Mezza took his hands out of his pocket he had no knife in them—I saw one in his hand after—I think I told the magistrate that I saw knives in the hands of all three—the prosecutor had had a few words in the house sometimes before this; he never broke any tables and chairs—he had been quarrelsome one evening about a week or fortnight before.
ANTONIO VALUCTA . I speak English a little bit—I am a mosaic worker, and live at 11, Back Hill, Holborn—on the night of the 12th November I was in the Crown public-house, in the bagatelle-room; I was not playing mora—I saw the prosecutor catch hold of Salvatore and push him against the door of the bagatelle-room—Salvatore put his right hand in his pocket, took out a razor, and cut the prosecutor across the neck—I was frightened, and ran away to the back door—I saw Salvatore run out at the back door.
Cross-examined. I did not see the prosecutor's hand bleeding—it was after Salvatore was pushed that he used the razor—I saw Mezza in the room, but I did not see him do anything—he was close to them—there were a good lot of people there.
CHAGINKA BIANCI (Interpreted). I am an ice-cream vendor, and live at 1, Somer's Court, Holborn—I was in the bagatelle-room at the Crown on this night about eight—I was one of the six playing at mora for beer; the prosecutor was "master" and I was "foreman"—Mezza asked for two glasses of beer—the prosecutor said, "No, I will give you one glass"—he said, "I want the two, when you are a master you want it all your own way"—Mezza than left our company and went against the bagatelle board and put himself in this position (leaning his head on his hand)—the prosecutor went towards him, and Mezza said, "Lorenzo, let me alone, I am not the man for you"—the prosecutor put his little finger to his neck, saying, "If you don't let me alone I will put these two fingers to your neck," and he touched his chin with his fingers—I saw Mezza put his hand in his pocket, but I did not see him take out a knife or anything—the prosecutor said, "Take out your hand from your pocket"—then I saw Salvatore and Forti had something in their hands, I could not tell what it was—Salvatore then had a knife in his hand, and I saw him draw his hand to the prosecutor's neck; there was then such a confusion that I really cannot explain myself; I lost my hat, I found it afterwards—I afterwards found that the prosecutor was wounded—he said, "Look what they have done to me; keep me up or I fall"—I took hold of Forti and took him out of the bagatelle-room into the public-house bar and into the street—I saw that he had in his hand something like a knife, that was when he was in the street—he tried to get back, and I tried to stop him, and in the struggle I received a wound on my finger; it was a little scratch; perhaps it might have been with a nail.
Cross-examined. The prosecutor actually stuck his fingers in Mezza's throat, and touched his chin, and used bad language—I did not see him strike Salvatore.
while the game of mora was going on—I went in just as the row began—I said to the prosecutor, "Don't speak bad; the beer is nothing"—he said, "Mind your business"—he said to Mezza, "You leave me alone; I am all right"—Mezza put his hands in his pocket—the prosecutor said, "What are you doing? Put your hands in your pocket! Are you going to take a knife out?"—Mezza said, "You are too much for me; I am a boy"—I did not see a knife with Mezza—Forti said to the prosecutor, "Come on, and finish the game"—the prosecutor said, "Who are you? I don't understand you," and pushed him back—Salvatore said, "Leave him alone"—the prosecutor said, "What do you want?"—he put his hands in his pocket—I did not see what he took out—he made a motion—after that the prosecutor showed me what had happened, and I fetched a policeman—about eight minutes afterwards I was in a shop close by, and Forti came in—he said, "Where is Salvatore?"—I said, "I don't know"—he said, "Where is Mezza?"—I said, "I don't know"—he said, "Who took a cab for him?"—I said, "I did"—he said, "You will have to pay for it"—he had a knife in his hand—it was a knife like that (Produced)—I don't know whether this is the one.
Cross-examined. I saw a bagatelle stick in Mezza's hand—at the time Salvatore struck the prosecutor Mezza was standing opposite me—the prosecutor was not holding him; the three were together—when the prosecutor was on the floor Mezza took the bagatelle stick; I did not see a knife in his hand at all—the prosecutor did not strike Salvatore before Salvatore stabbed him—he only said, "What do you want?" that was all—I did not say before the Magistrate that the prosecutor had struck Salvatore, knocking him down—he fell down—he pushed him, and said, "Step back," and he fell down.
C. CARAZZI. I am an ice-cream seller, and live at 11, Fleet Row, Eyre Street Hill—between eight and nine on the evening of November 12th I saw Forti's brother—I followed him to different places, and ultimately to the corner of Piccadilly Circus, where I saw Salvatore—I called a constable, and gave him into custody—I did not speak to him.
JOHN THOMAS (Police Sergeant, 37 G). From information, I went to Vine Street Station, where I found Salvatore detained in custody—I put him in a cub, and conveyed him to King's Road Station—he spoke in very broken English, and said, "On which side was his throat cut?"—I said, "On the left"—he held up his hand, and said, "Is he dead?"—I said, "No."
Cross-examined. I don't think he was excited; he seemed surprised—he was told the charge in Italian, but he said he could not understand a word.
HENRY LINO (268 G). I arrested Forti in Farringdon Road about half-past eleven on the night of the 12th—I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with two other men in cutting an Italian's, throat with a razor at the Crown public-house, Back Hill, at eight that night—he replied, "It was not a razor, it was a knife"—I found this small pocket-knife on him.
EDWARD WEST (Inspector, G). I received information about this shortly after eight on the Monday evening—I afterwards received this cap from the manager of the public-house—I showed it to Forti, and he said, "That is mine"—I saw Mezza while he was detained there—I took a
note of what he said; he spoke in broken English—he said, "I was in the room; we were playing mora; Michaeli was master in the game. Some said they would give two glasses of beer. I said I would give my glass to Salvatore and two to Mezza. Michaeli gave the beer to other people. I said, 'Why give beer to other people?' and asked him to give me two glasses. I then said 'I will play no more mora.' The prosecutor said, 'Go to your own place; I am no good to you.' He smacked me in the face, put two fingers to my neck, and pushed me and then pushed Salvatore Before he had his neck cut I left the house."
EDWARD ARTHUR PERRAM . I am resident medical officer at the Royal Free Hospital—on Monday night, 12th November, about eight or nine, the prosecutor was brought there suffering from a wound on his neck, extending from just below the left ear—it was about seven inches long when the wound was fresh; it is not so long now, from contraction—it was downward and forward, and had cut through several structures—the internal jugular and several vessels were divided; the cartilage of the throat and the windpipe was opened—it was a dangerous wound, highly dangerous to life—there was a superficial wound on the right hand, not cutting any of the tendons, not dangerous—the wound in the throat was consistent with having been caused by a razor, and that on the hand by a knife or any sharp instrument—he remained in the hospital till 5th December—the danger was after the hemorrhage had stopped, from concurrent, hemorrhage—his life was in danger for some time—we had to open the vein, and inject salt water.
In the course of the case the deposition of one of the Italian witnesses being referred to, MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS expressed a very strong opinion that such depositions ought to be taken in the language spoken by the witness, and that it should be translated on oath into language understood by the accused; a deposition written down in language not understood by the witness was not a deposition upon which perjury could be assigned, nor would it be available in the case of death or absence from illness.
MEZZA and FORTI— NOT GUILTY . SALVATORE EVANGESTA— GUILTY on Second Count. — Five Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, December 12th and 13th, 1894.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSES. C. F. GILL, A. E. GILL, and VESEY FITZGERALD Prosecuted, and SIR EDWARD CLARKE, Q.C., and DR. RENTOUL Defended.
CHARLES JAMES DURANT . I am senior partner of the firm of Durant and Co., silk brokers, at Dash wood House, New Broad Street—I have known the prisoner for a great many years—I knew him when he carried on business with Kilburn as Kilburn, Kershaw, and Co.—after that he carried on business as John Kershaw and Co., piece brokers, in Bishopsgate Street—in April, 1893, he came to see me at Dash wood House, and told me that he had got to the end of his tether, that the worry and
anxiety were more than he could bear any longer, and said he should be glad if I would take him and his business—I had some conversation with him about it—I asked him what the profits would be, and he said about £1,200 per annum—I asked him if that was nett—he said, "Yes"—I said then I would talk the matter over with my son Francis, and give him an answer in two or three days—my son Francis is engaged in the business at Dashwood House—he was not taking so active a part at that time, but since my illness he has been practically the sole person conducting the business—I talked over the matter with him, and a few days afterwards I saw the prisoner and asked him what was about the turnover of his business; and he told me, and I took down the figures he gave me for three years on this scrap of paper—I handed that to Mr. Perry for verification—nothing was said as to the assets or liabilities of Kershaw and Co.—having considered the matter with my son we agreed to take over the business, and my son instructed my solicitors, Messrs. Thorowgood, Tabor and Hardcastle, with regard to embodying in an agreement the terms upon which we intended to take the business over—I then sent out this circular to our customers. (This stated that in addition to their present business they should future carry on the business of piece brokers, and that they had secured the services of Mr. John Kershaw as manager)—when this agreement was being prepared there was no question of the liabilities or assets of the prisoner's business—he asked me if I would lend Trim £500, and I sent for my cheque book, and wrote out the cheque, and gave it to him—I signed the agreement. (The effect of this agreement was that the prisoner was to be manager for the prosecutors of the New Street business giving them his whole lime, and obeying all their reasonable commands; to render accounts and pay over all moneys and securities to them or their bankers; to receive an remuneration 50 per cent, of the net profits; to render a balance-sheet on the 31st December in each year; that he was not to enter into contracts or pledge their credit without their consent; and that if at the end of three years they desired to dismiss him he could carry on the business in his own name)—after his business was taken over our name was put up at New Street, a set of books was supplied, and all necessary steps taken for starting this business—I did not attend to it in any way; I was in the counting-house from the day it started—my son went there constantly—after the business was started in May my attention was drawn to the fact that he had barrowed £850 during that month—I spoke to Perry, my confidential clerk, and in the result I wrote to the prisoner—I got from him this letter, dated 8th July. (Stating that he was giving his serious attention to the £850 standing against him; that he was getting rid of his old accounts as far as possible, and that now he had only the bank to settle with, and that he had reduced their account by £2,000 since 1st May; that had he been able to yet in two accounts owing to him, £458 and £500, both of which he should get, tike above amount would not have been outstanding; that he asked his forbearance, and thanked him for his great kindness)—in November I was ill and away from business, and from that time my son took a very active part in the management of the Dashwood House business, and that occupied his time—at the time I employed the prisoner I had implicit confidence in him.
Cross-examined. I had known him about twenty-five years—I cannot say that everything I had heard of him combined to give me confidence in him—I don't think he had always during those twenty-five years borne quite the character of a honourable man—at the time of his brother's failure in 1874 or 1875, it was supposed that he knew what had been going on in that firm, though he was not a partner in it, but was employed by it—his brother, who was a partner, disappeared—from that time, in 1874, the prisoner had carried on business on his own account in London, first in partnership with Kilburn, and subsequently on his own account, in the same business in which his brother's old firm had been engaged—nothing more occurred, to ray knowledge, to impair my confidence in his honesty—we now carry on at Dashwood House the piece broker's business which belonged to John Kershaw and Co.—my son, Mr. Francis, and my partner, Mr. Cumming, manage it—there is no one in our employment in the same position as that which the prisoner held—we have had the whole business since September last, but I have not observed the benefit of it; we have made no profit—I cannot tell you if we have made any profit; I do not attend to the business at all—whatever the business may be worth we have the advantage of it—when the prisoner gave me figures I put them down, and I sent my clerk to examine them, and he said they were substantially correct; there was no material difference—as a business man all I asked was the annual turnover and the profits—it did not matter to me what the business owed—I was going to acquire the business, but not the debts, if there were any—I thought that a business that brought in £1,200 a year net profit, of which I should get half, would be a valuable property—I did not expect to pay anything for the business; we were to find all the capital required; it was to become our business from that time—I did not know at that time that the prisoner had creditors who were pressing him—he did not tell me there were business debts coming to be paid for which he wanted the £500—I did not think about whether he was not able to meet the liabilities of his business—I thought he had probably lost all his capital, and could not carry on business without it—I did not understand him to mean, when he told me he was at the end of the tether and could not go on longer, that he was not able to meet his business liabilities; I never gave it a thought as to whether he had business creditors or not, or, if he had, how those business creditors were to be paid off; it did not concern me—the result, according to my view, was that the business creditors would never have been paid, because I was not called on to find the capital for that, while I should have half the business perfectly clear—from May, 1893, till my illness in December Mr. Francis Durant used to go from Dashwood House to New Street—I did not pay much attention to where he went; I did not know when he was not in the counting house where he was; but he went to New Street every day to see how the business was going on—he was not acquainted with the business himself in the least—he went to learn it—he manages our business now; he is not a partner—I was ill in December—I have practically never come back to the active work of our business—I came hack to the office two or three days before Easter—the question of taking accounts of this New Street business never came before me at all until September this year—that matter I left to my partner
and son—I left with them the agreement; they knew its terms—when I came back to business I did not ask why no balance-sheet had been prepared in December, 1893; I don't see how we could prepare it, as the books were in his custody—I don't say there would be any difficulty in carrying out the clause of the agreement as to making out a balance-sheet, by obtaining the books from the prisoner—the books were not under my control, but they were at my office, the rent of which we were paying, and the manager of which was our servant, and the books were kept in our name—we have four or five, or perhaps more, clerks and accountants in our business—I did not think there was any necessity for sending an accountant over to inspect the books—I was not there; but if I had been it would not have occurred to me to make out the balance-sheet; I should not have remembered there was such a stipulation in the agreement, I attached so little importance to it—I had nothing to do with fixing the terms of the agreement, beyond telling my son that I had agreed to half nett profits; I left it to my son—when the prisoner applied at our office for cheques, those applications were substantially never brought under my notice—I left it to Perry and my son—I cannot say whether my son would be at Dashwood House when those claims for cheques came in—Perry and my son would be responsible in this matter—I was not cognizant of the account kept in our Dashwood House books as against the piece goods department, I never troubled to look at it—I had nothing personally to do with the communications made to the prisoner between June and October, 1894—I authorised this prosecution, I cannot give the date.
Re-examined. I did not know what the prisoner wanted the £500 for, but I had my own idea that he might have household bills—nothing was said to me to suggest that he had business liabilities.
FRANCIS DURANT . I am manager of Durant and Company's business—I was a party to this agreement of 29th April, 1893—I instructed Mr. Tabor to prepare it—with regard to the New Street business about fifteen or sixteen sales were held every year—the entire management of the New Street branch was left to the prisoner—I had no knowledge of this class of business before—I used to go there almost daily from the time it started, more with the idea of picking up how the business was done—I had nothing to do with the books; I never examined them—we act as brokers for piece goods between buyer and seller; we sell from one party to another—payment is usually made by the buyer within three months, sometimes before—goods can be taken away at any time, and when they are taken they must be paid for, but none need be taken away before three months—a deposit must be paid at the time, and then, if you want to take some away, you must pay for them when the sale is by public auction, all the goods are on show—when the purchase-money is paid, warrants are given—the prisoner did not sign cheques on behalf of the firm—after November, 1893, I ceased to attend at New Street, and devoted my attention to Dashwood House—when a year's trading had expired, by May, 1894, I gave instructions to Mr. Brewer, our cashier, with a view to preparing a balance-sheet of the branch—I did not receive that balance-sheet till about the beginning of June I think—I then received from Mr. Brewer what purported to be a balance-sheet of the year's trading, and also a profit-and-loss account for
the same period—these are the documents—they are in the prisoner's writing—I observed by the balance-sheet a debit balance of £6,500 against the branch—in the following August would be the prompt day—I should expect large amounts to be paid off then by buyers—advances would have been made to sellers, and they would be paid off by the buyers in August—I did not draw attention to it at the time, but waited till after the prompt in August, and then I gave Brewer instructions with regard to the indebtedness, and subsequently received from him a list in the prisoner's writing of the securities held by the branch, of the value of £2,897, and at that time the indebtedness of the branch to the business was about £4,000, I think, so that after the prompt day there was a deficiency of £14,31—I gave further instructions to Brewer, and subsequently got another document in the prisoner's writing, purporting to be a list of debts due to the firm and of the securities held in respect of them, showing what debts were secured, and to what extent, and which were unsecured—in consequence of what Brewer told me I instructed Mr. Leake, an accountant, to examine the books at New Street—at the time I did that I told the prisoner that we could not understand his account, and he would make up his books to 31st August, and I should send an accountant to go through the accounts, and make out a balance-sheet for me—by the 26th September I had received from Mr. Leake this provisonal balance-sheet—on 26th September I sent for the prisoner and had an interview with him at Dash wood House—this document was before us—there is in it a suspense account, showing a total of £856—I took the prisoner into the cashier's room, when he arrived, and I said to him at once, "I am going to accuse you of having issued a false balance-sheet; I wish you to explain this suspense account"—he said he was unable to do so, and that if I would give him three weeks he would repay the money—the suspense account was the only item I referred to on that occasion—I said I should immediately have the name of the firm taken off the branch office at New Street, and that I should report the matter to Messrs. Durant and Co., and see what proceedings they would take, and then I told him he could go—I looked into the debtor's account of Mr. Leake's balance-sheet, and in consequence of what I saw there, I sent for the prisoner on 27th September—Mr. Tabor was present—I had this balance-sheet in front of me, and I put my finger on these debtors' accounts, and asked the prisoner as to these debts of Brunschweiler and Graham, whether those people really owed us the money—the prisoner said he could not tell me without his books—I said "It is nonsense; I insist on having an answer"—he then said they did not owe us the money—then I went to Bassoon's account, among others, and Salenger's, and I asked the prisoner if those people owed us money, and he said they did, and that we should be paid—the interview went on for some time, and then the prisoner came up to me and said, "You seem to think that I do not feel this position"—I said "I don't think about it at all; I only think you are a very wicked man; you can go"—Mr. Tabor, in the course of the interview, said to him, "Do you know you are making very serious admissions?" and I fancy the prisoner said, "Yes"; I understood, at all events, that he did—he also suggested again that if I would give him three weeks he would replace all the moneys, as on the former occasion—on 29th September, I think
Saturday morning, I had the books removed early in the morning from the New Street office to our office, and our name was taken off the door, and since then it has not been up at that branch—since that time the business has been carried on at Dashwood House—I instructed Mr. Tabor to inquire into the matter; I believe the prisoner saw him the following day after our interview—subsequently I transferred the matter to Messrs. Wontner's hands—on September 29th we issued a circular to the trade declaring that the prisoner was no longer in our employment.
Cross-examined. I was at the New Street place for several hours each day from May to November—there were there a clerks' room and a principals' room, where the prisoner and I sat together—the books were in that room so far as I know; I am not sure—I never saw them—I never noticed the prisoner making entries in them, or referring to them from May to November—I saw the persons who came in on business; very few came, but I heard what took place between the prisoner and those who did come—I never asked for any information—I went there to see how the business was conducted, and what sort of business it was—I talked to people and went to see some of the customers, and I have been to the docks to see different goods being sold, and see what they were like; that was the sort of inspection of the business which I was able to make—I knew there were payments to be made by the prisoner, and I knew he was making some payments on his own account; I presume they were payments on account of Kershaw and Co.; I knew his old accounts were going on, and that he had to make payments—I do not remember that he ever mentioned to me what sums of money would be required for particular dates—I do not remember his ever mentioning a sum of £3,000 for payments on a particular date; or his afterwards telling me that with the moneys that' were coming in £500 would be enough—I saw Mr. Brunschweiler several times while I was there—I do not remember his coming with regard to the payment of £610; I did not hear the conversation about it—I did not know there was a sum due from him to Kershaw and Co., and also a sum due to Durant and Co.—I know it was the prisoner's duty to take in to our cashier in the morning a piece of paper for what cheques he required, and those cheques would be taken over to him in the afternoon—I don't think he conversed with me about those matters, and about the cheques he wanted—we used to talk together—I was not there till after eleven in the morning, and I was not long there—I always went to the other business place before going to New Street—I don't quite know what time the slips were brought in by the prisoner—they were brought in when he knew what cheques he wanted—he could not draw a cheque himself nor endorse one, so that all the cheques he wanted he had to go to Dashwood House for, specifying the amounts and the names, and the cheques he received were paid over to us—I did not know of his making up in the afternoon a list of the cheques he had received and paid—I may have been either at New Street or Dashwood House in the afternoon; I had the correspondence to do at Dashwood House—there are fifteen or sixteen sales a year—brokers make advances to sellers if they ask for it as a favour; it is not obligatory—it is the business custom of the broker to make advances to sellers—it is done if it is asked for; it is not usually asked for—it is usually part of a broker's business
to advance money, and those advances would be repaid out of money coming from the buyers when the goods are delivered—I never heard of a broker advancing for the buyer the deposit upon goods—I believe it was early in June that the balance-sheet was given to me—I noticed that it was all in the prisoner's writing—it came through the office to me—I first asked him for an explanation of it after the prompt, after 30th August, nearly three months after it came to me—when I spoke to him about it I had before me the balance-sheet and the debts and securities accounts, so far as I know—I asked for most of the explanation through Brewer; it was not done directly—I first asked the prisoner about these accounts at the beginning of September, and asked him to make his books up to 31st August, and said I should instruct Mr. Leake to go through the books—Mr. Leake went through them, and got out a provisional balance-sheet to the end of August—the prisoner's balance-sheet went to the end of April; that was the only one we had I from him—I had his balance-sheet with me when I spoke to him—I think the prisoner had his own papers in his hands on the second occasion, the 27th—immediately after the 27th we transferred the business to Dashwood House—he suggested that in three weeks he might be able to repay the money—the summons was taken out on 19th October—I know that on 18th October he was adjudicated bankrupt.
Re-examined. When I went to New Street I never looked into the books—he never suggested to me that he was paying his accounts with Durant and Co.'s moneys—I had not the slightest idea of it—he made no suggestion that a balance-sheet should be got at the end of December, 1893—the prosecution was hot in any way affected by the question of his paying the money in three weeks—we were not influenced in the slightest degree by his bankruptcy—we did not bring it about in any way—I did not hear of his going into bankruptcy or filing a petition till we got the bankruptcy papers—I think we laid an information on 16th—Messrs. Wontner had been consulted some days before that.
EDWARD BREWER . I am second cashier in the Messrs. Durant and Company's employment at Dashwood House—I have been in their employment thirty-eight years—part of my duties was in connection with the New Street business—after Durant and Co. had taken over the business I saw the prisoner most days—either he or one of two clerks came in the morning with a slip of paper showing the money he wanted for the New Street business—the slips contained the names of the persons to whom the money was payable, and the amount for which cheques were to be drawn—I prepared cheques for those amounts, and obtained the signature of a member of the firm to them—later in the day the prisoner would come to Dashwood House and produce a slip, which would contain the moneys that were going out from Dashwood House in connection with the New Street business, and also the sums which had been received during the day—I got from him monthly statements of the outgoings and moneys coming in—when the business had been in existence for a year, up to 1st May, 1894, I spoke to Mr. Durant about the question of a balance-sheet, and asked whether I should ask the prisoner for a balance-sheet, and during May I made various applications to the prisoner for a balance-sheet; he said sometimes, "I have not finished posting up my books," or "I am engaged on them and I have not balanced them"—at the end of May I think he
produced to me this balance-sheet with a profit and loss account—looking at that I noticed that the nett profits appeared to be £750 6s. 1d.—his share of that would be £375—I said that he did not show where the other £375 was—he took the documents away and came back afterwards and suggested that the explanation was that the profits and loss which was put down at £1,361 should have been put down as £1,562—he then handed me what he called a stock account—handed those documents to Mr. Francis Durant, and he having looked at them waited till after the August prompt day; and then from instructions received from Mr. Francis Durant I asked the prisoner for a list of securities—he gave me this list showing securities at £2,897 against a very much large indebtedness of over £4,000—I asked him for an explanation of the difference between the value of the securities and the amount of our advances—in the result he gave me this document showing the debts on one side and the securities held by the firm on the other—it shows a deficiency of about £1,450—at that time the only documents that came into our possession were those with which he supplied us; we had not got the books, they were in the prisoners possession—I showed this list of debits and securities to Mr. Francis Durant, and I was present on September 10th when the prisoner was asked some questions with regard to the Sassoon's, Cole and Walker's, and Munsie's accounts, why those three firms should owe us money—he said they were deposits—I asked whether those deposits had been received from the buyers—he said, "Yes"—I said, "They have been received from the buyers and handed over to the sellers, they are no longer an asset"—he went away—I had no means of making a close examination of the document as I had no books—Mr. Francis continued the inquiry into the matter; he brought Mr. Leake into it, and in the result the books were brought from New Street on September 29th—after Durant and Co. took over the prisoner's business the first sale was held on 25th May—I find that Brunschweiler is debited in his account in the ledger with £303 for goods—on the other side, where cash payments are shown, there is no payment of £303 shown—I find the balance of £303 at the end of 1893 is carried on to the 1st January, 1894, and down to 1st May, when there is still that indebtedness of £303—the ledger is entirely made up of entries in the prisoner's writing—among the assets in his balance-sheet is a sum of £208 from Graham and Co.—on 2nd June a sum of £228 4s. 10d. is entered in the ledger as paid by Graham and Co—the entries on that side refer to payments made with' respect of goods, and the goods are shown on the other side—£228 15s. 2d. is shown as the balance at the end of that year, and the beginning of 1894 and down to 30th April as an asset—I drew a cheque myself for £228 4s. 10d. on 7th June, and it was given to him for Graham's amount in the ordinary course of business—it is entered in the ledger on 2nd June, but I drew it on the 7th—it is payable to order, and is endorsed by Graham—originally in his balance-sheet the prisoner showed Sassoon as debtor to the extent of £76 odd—Sassoons are sellers only, and ought to receive money instead of paying it—I find in the ledger an entry on September 8th of the payment of £76 9s. 7d.—when the account is worked out they are apparently, on the face of the account, debtors to Durant to the amount of £71 17s. 6d.—in the ledger, under date 8th September, there appears the entry of £110 19s. 7d., and on the other side
I find the only goods in respect of that are on September 8th, £49 14s. 9d.—I drew the cheque myself, in the ordinary course of business, as the result of one of the slips supplied to me, to the order of Sassoon—it is endorsed by them, and has been paid through the bank—we did no business with Sassoon and Graham except through the prisoner—I find the ledger account of Salenger was, January 17th, £50—this is the cheque drawn in the same way to Salenger or order, and endorsed by him—it has been paid through the bank—that appears as an asset in the balance-sheet—we had no dealings with them from the head office—I find that the balance of the suspense account in the balance-sheet of May appears as an asset of £163 2s.—the suspense account, like the whole of the ledger, is in the prisoner's writing—the first four items amount to £40 14s. 5d., and the next four items make a total of £856 9s. 6d.—the cheques for three of those four items, £166 10s. 6d., £287 16s. 9d., and £281 2s. 3d., are in my writing, and were applied for in the ordinary course of business—the payees of two of those cheques are the National Bank of India, and the third is Hopkins—those amounts should not have appeared in the suspense account—on the credit side I see the entry, "Deposit Account, £460," and an entry before that of "G. Coley, £237 15s. 4d."—those two matters are transferred from one suspense account to another—they were genuine liabilities of the firm—the entry of them reduces the debit balance to £162—application was made on one of these slips in the ordinary course for a cheque for Kahn and Kahn for £506 0s. 3d.—the cheque was paid into their account at the London and County Bank—I find by Kahn and Kahn's account in our ledger that the amount due from Durant's was £385 0s. 3d. on 17th February—I find by the entry that three cash payments make up the cheque for £506, £256, £128, and £120; the two former sums make up £385—on the other side is "Goods, £385"—I see an entry on the other side of £121 without any date; there is a pencil memorandum, "S. Account, folio 932," which is the folio of the suspense account—that balances Kahn and Kahn's account—that is the last item in the suspense account, which makes up the £897, and gives the material for arriving at what is the credit—on 21st February, 1894, the prisoner brought me a warrant for a case of silk, marked "W.P. 1,160"—he said, "Here is a warrant for a case of silk, which I have sold, and the prompt will be due on 10th May; will you let me have £100 advance?"—upon that warrant and his statement with regard to it he got a cheque for £100; I spoke to Mr. Francis Durant, and he agreed under the circumstances to lend him £100 until 10th May—I spoke to him afterwards as to who the buyer was, and after some time I got the £100 back.
Cross-examined. The warrant was lodged as security; we got £100 back eventually after trouble, and the warrant was given up—I was the clerk who principally dealt with the piece goods department—the course of business was that every day the prisoner either came with or sent a slip of paper with the names of the firms for whom he wanted cheques; this is one of the slips—on having the slip I made out the cheques to the orders of the firms for whom the cheques were required, and entered them in a book, which is not here—all the amounts are in the ledger—they are postings from our cash book made from day to day—on the other side of the ledger are entries of cash we received—the ledger, and also the prisoner's monthly lists, would enable us to see from time to time
exactly how the cash account of Durant with the piece goods department stood—these are the lists which the prisoner supplied us with every month showing the cheques that had been received, and cheques we had paid to sellers, and cheques he had paid to us which he had received from buyers—from May 31st to June 30th he brought these accounts of the transactions between Durant and the piece goods department, and in our own books we had the means of checking them—Mr. Perry checked then month by month—I cannot say positively whether there was any complaint of the entries—we had many lists of securities, not monthly—we kept no account of the securities in our own book—we kept the securities themselves, and the lists he furnished us with—at any time we could have compared the lists with the securities—whenever we received a list we compared it with the securities—a monthly check of all the accounts passed before us, not of all the business, but of all the cash that went out and came in—I can hardly give the opinion that the condition of things disclosed by his books is correctly represented by his balance-sheet; the figures that are in his books are in the balance-sheet—I said before the Magistrate, "If a stranger had gone to those books to make up that balance-sheet he would have put into it all the items that have been put into it"—I merely expressed my opinion that that balance-sheet was drawn up correctly; I am not an accountant—I said, "The evidence I have given here to-day is the result of my examination of Mr. Kershaw's own entries"—I verified them by this ledger—it was from his own entries that I gave evidence with regard to the different items—I believe that no cheque I have given to the prisoner has not been recorded in his accounts and lists—he put on papers which I retained the amount of the cheque, and the name of the person in whose name he wanted it drawn, and I made it out to the order of that firm, and kept a note in our books of the issuing of the cheque—I have had the list all checked, and they were correct—Graham's cheque for £228 4s. 10d. is entered in my list, and the prisoner's list, and in the ledger he kept—with regard to the balance-sheet I only called attention to the £1,361, because the figures would not tally—the figures shown on that balance-sheet would make out that our firm were only to get £175, while the prisoner got £375—I called attention to that, and he said there was a mistake of £200—the account from which the £1,361 purports to be taken is in this ledger—according to the figures it ought to be £1,562—no doubt it was by a mistake in carrying out the figures from his ledger that he made that mistake of £200—the question about that was raised the day after the balance-sheet was put before me, I think—I think I never asked the prisoner anything about the balance sheet—I did ask for more information—I got the list of securities; I saw that the warrants stated on it were in our possession—I next asked the prisoner for another document early in September, and then the account showing the debts and securities was given to me—it was in that list that the three items, Sassoon, Cole, and Walker Munsie, were—Walker Munsie's account was £226; I asked why they should be owing us money—he said they were deposits—I said, "Very well, have we received these deposits from the buyers?"—he said, "Yes"—I saw, "Then, if we have received deposits from the buyer, and handed then over to the seller, they are no longer an asset"—I cannot tell you if Walker Munsie were debtors at that time; I do not say that entry is
wrong—so far as I know the entry "Cole, £388," is correct—I might have judged who were sellers and who were buyers, but I never had any notice which they were—Mr. Francis was frequently at New Street—people from whom we received money we should consider buyers, and people to whom we paid money sellers, but there was nothing to show what any particular firms were; sometimes they might be buyers and sometimes sellers—we had one ledger for bought and sold, not separate ledgers.
GEORGE ERNEST TABOR . I am a member of the firm of Thorowgood, Tabor, and Hardcastle, solicitors—on September 27th I attended at Dashwood House—I saw in the partners' room Mr. Francis Durant and Mr. Cumming sitting at one table, and the prisoner in the middle of the room—I sat at another table—Mr. Francis Durant had before him a balance-sheet—he pointed to several items in it (Brunschweiler, Graham, and Co., and Sassoon's, and others), and called the prisoner's attention to them, and asked him as to certain of them, whether the money was owing or not—the prisoner said he could not say without looking at the books—Mr. Francis Durant said that was absurd—the prisoner got up from his seat and came to the table, and looked more closely at the balance-sheet, and Francis Durant pointed to other items, and the prisoner said, "These are not owing"—Mr. Durant said, "How can you say some are owing and some are not without giving the excuse of looking at your books?" and then the prisoner said the money was not owing, and that he had received the money, and that he intended to replace it, but that times had been so bad he had not been able to do so—I walked up to the table, and looked at the items, and said to the prisoner, "Do you understand the serious position in which you are placing yourself by these admissions?"—he bowed—I said the matter was placed in my hands, and I could not form any hasty conclusion; I should like to investigate the matter further, and I asked him to come and see me next day at three o'clock—he came and went into it, and he practically denied everything he had admitted the day before—he asked me not to repeat what he said in confidence, as he did not wish to give himself away.
----PERRY. I am a cashier in Mr. Durant's employment—I have been forty-eight years with them—several times during April, 1893, I saw the prisoner at the office when he came there to see Mr. Durant, senior, who afterwards spoke to me about checking the turn-over in the I cash-book—I went to New Street and did so, taking the figures which the prisoner had given Mr. Durant—I went over month by month with the prisoner at his office, and found the figures he had given were fairly correct—I drew this cheque for £500, which Mr. Durant signed and gave to the prisoner on April 25th—on May 4th, after the business was taken over, the prisoner spoke to me about wanting an advance of £250 till May 26th—he had a cheque for it on that day—on May 19th he had £150, which he said he would pay within a week—after that he spoke about wanting £500, and I spoke to Mr. Durant about it, and I went to the prisoner's office to tell him he did not understand that he had given those securities, as he understood that sellers, if they had advances, gave warrants in the same way that buyers would if they cleared—the prisoner said that was a thin quite distinct from the piece goods; that he found the day before he should be £500 short, and he
mentioned that he had spoken to Mr. Francis Durant—I came back and told Mr. Durant, and after some little consideration he wrote the cheque, or ordered it to be written—I am sure he told me it was something quite distinct from the piece goods business—he said he would pay within a week or ten days—none of those three amounts have been repaid—then Mr. Charles Durant had a conversation with me, and us the result he wrote a letter to the prisoner, and received the answer of 8th July—on 31st December last I rendered an account to the prisoner of his personal indebtedness—that indebtedness continued down to the middle of 1894.
Cross-examined. As a rule, I had nothing to do with giving out cheques in the morning, only occasionally—as a rule, the prisoner would go to Brewer—I have not been employed to investigate the books since these matters arose; that was done by Mr. Brewer and Mr. Leake.
PERCY DEWE LEAKE . I am a chartered accountant, of 25, Abchurch Lane—for some time past I have audited Durant and Co.'s books—on 13th September I received instructions from Mr. Francis Durant with these exhibits, and on the 15th, in consequence of these instructions, I went to 15, New Street, and saw the prisoner—I spent some days in examining the books, and I took notes of certain things that seemed to require explanation, as I could not understand them—I saw the prisoner several times, and occasionally asked him questions—I asked him whether the arrangement was that any of the assets and liabilities of his old business were to be taken over, and he said, "No, it has nothing whatever to do with the old business"—on 21st September I asked him for an explanation of the suspense account, and whether it represented an asset, and also as to the entries on the credit side, but the prisoner said he would go into the assets with me in detail when I had prepared my provisional balance-sheet—on 24th September he saw my provisional balance-sheet—he said, as to Brunschweiler's account, £303, that that was due from them, and was an asset—I said, looking at the ledger, "Is that asset the amount which appears to the debit of the ledger account?" it is the first entry, as far back as 1893—he said, "That is the same amount"—I marked down some of his answers—he said, with regard to Brunschweiler, that it was an unsecured debt, and was a good asset—I said it was a very old debt—I did not understand it, but he assured me it was all right—I went down the list of debtors with him—I referred to Graham and Co., and he said that was an unsecured debt, but properly included among the list of debtors as an asset—I referred to the entry in the ledger; that was June, 1893—I said, "Here is the amount, dated June, 1893; is that the amount brought down as owing at the present time?"—he said, "It is the amount, yes"—he said, as to Salenger's, £50, that was an unsecured debt—the ledger before me showed apparently that the debt was contracted on 17th June, 1894—the prisoner said, "Salenger will pay interest at 5 per cent on that; it is an unsecured debt"—I drew attention to Sassoon's account; they in the ledger appeared debited with £71 16s. 6d.—I asked if it was due—he said it was—it was on unsecured debt, and would be settled on 19th October prompt; that was, I believe, a date when other amounts were falling due in connection with a certain sale—I asked him for an explanation of suspense account No. 2 in the ledger, and he answered, "I will explain it to Mr. Francis Durant"—I asked him about the first four items in the account, and he explained that they represented cash received
by him in the ordinary course of business, and which he had expended on the business expenses instead of paying it into the head office—I asked him for the petty cash book in which I thought the expenditure would appear, and he said he had not got it for the moment, but he would look it up—afterwards I understood he had mislaid it, and could not find it—I should say that those items should not appear in the suspense account, they would go in the ordinary course among the trade expenses to reduce the profit of the year's trading—the three items that appear on the other side of the account, reducing the suspense balance, were liabilities so far as I could see from the books—there was no reason why they should be inserted in the suspense account to reduce the amount—if they had not been inserted the amount in the balance-sheet would stand at about £856, after eliminating the £40 which I was told was for business expenses—that was the amount I inserted in my balance-sheet—it seems to me it should have been so inserted in my balance-sheet he rendered, but in fact it was inserted as £162, because by introducing those actual liabilities he concealed the greater part of what seemed to me to be fictitious assets—I showed the prisoner his statement of securities and debts—he said "They should not have given that to you; that is nothing"—on the face of the ledger I cannot see anything to account for the entry Brunschweiler £54—I have never found any receipts for that figure—Graham's amount douse not appear in the books—I find in the statement of debts and securities as an asset of the firm "interest account £106"—no such amount was due to the firm for interest according to the books.
Cross-examined. After Mr. Brewer's examination at the Police-court I made my detailed examination of the statement of securities and debts, and found I could not explain some of the figure in it—that statement bears no date—a good many of the figure are in round numbers—it seemed to me that the £106 was not an asset—there is an interest account in the ledger—on 31st August there is a debit balance of £70 9s. apparently, which I transferred to profit and loss account—Brunschweiler's £303 is in the books—I don't think I examined the ledger to see if I could ascertain how the £54 was made up—I scarcely went so far as to ask for the production of vouchers that represented money standing to the credit of the firm—my investigation was stopped by the prisoner saying, "I will explain these matters to Mr. Francis Durant," and then I rendered a provisional balance-sheet to Durant and Co., and they took the matter up—there is a correct folio number against every one of these entries—I cannot trace the £106 anywhere—the £163, the balance of the suspense account, is taken as an asset—I should say that the real balance should not be taken as an asset; it depends on what the suspense account represents—my definition of a suspense account is that it records any transaction the information about which is incomplete—if there is a transaction and you do not know to whose debit or credit it is to be carried, you carry it to the suspense account till it is ascertained—if certain sums were expended on petty cash which it was uncertain whether the prisoner or the firm would have to pay, it would be properly put in the suspense account, I should say—the balance of Cole and Co.'s account, £237 15s. 4d., on the other side is not properly in the account because it appears to be a liability due to Cole and Co.'s and stands to their ledger account in another part of the ledger—the balance is carried to the
suspense account, but it should not be there—if it were not there it would increase the debit balance standing on the suspense account of that amount—the £460 ought not to appear in the suspense account—I believe £460 is the correct balance of the account on folio twenty-eight to which a reference is given—I do not think there should be anything on that side of the suspense account—the two entries of the National Bank of India represent cash paid by Durant and Co. to the New Street business by means of cheques drawn and given to the prisoner; there is nothing to show to whom those ought to be credited and debited beyond the name of the bank—I think the suspense account is the only account they could be carried to—the petty cash book was never found.
CHARLES ARNOLD BRUNSCHWEILER . I am a member of the firm of Brunschweiler and Co., of Manchester—since May last I have had no transactions with Durant and Co. as buyers—prior to May, 1893, I had business transactions with the prisoner, who was trading as John Kershaw and Co.—he acted as a broker, and I purchased goods from him—in January, 1893, I purchased goods from him—in May, 1893, a balance was due from him of £307 13s. 2d.—in April, 1893, I received a circular that he was acting as manager for Durant and Co.—on 25th May I attended an auction, at which he acted as auctioneer, and bought goods from him to the extent of £1,529 16s. 9d.—I paid him a small deposit, and received a rebate—I gave him this cheque, payable to John Kershaw and Co.—there was also due a balance from the May sales for goods still in the docks, and to save making out two cheques I said to him, "Shall I make it out in the name of John Kershaw and Co. or Durant and Co.?" and he said, so far as I remember, that it did not matter, because he should pay it over straight away—I meant to pay Durant and Co.
Cross-examined. Part of it was a debt to Kershaw and Co., and part to Durant and Co.—it was a cheque to order, and crossed.
Re-examined. I was applied to afterwards for the £303, and was rather annoyed at it.
WALTER ELLISTONE . I am a clerk to Messrs. Graham and Co., East India merchants—I had transactions for that firm with the prisoner when he traded as John Kershaw and Co., before May, 1893, and after that with Durant and Co.—we were sellers—the prisoner while carrying on his own business had sold for us goods in October, 1891, on which £188 6s. 1d. was due to us—that should have been paid within three months according to the usual terms—in March, 1893, he sold goods for us which left him indebted to us £188 13s. 9d., and he owed us altogether £228 4s. 10d. at the beginning of June, 1893—on 7th June we were paid this cheque for £228 4s. 10d.—that did not represent any transaction we had had with Durant and Co.—we got statements and gave a receipt to the prisoner personally—there was no ground for suggesting that we owed Durant and Co. £228, or any sum—I think in September, this year, we were applied to for the money.
WILLIAM LOGAN . I am assistant book-keeper and bill clerk to Sassoon and Co., India merchants, at 12, Leadenhall Street—we had transactions with the prisoner when he carried on business as John Kershaw and Co., and subsequently with Durant and Co.—in September, 1893, the prisoner owed us £80 14s. 6d. in respect of goods he had sold for us when he was trading as John Kershaw and Co.—that amount was
reduced to £71 16s. 6d. by his supplying carpet to a member of our firm—on 8th September, 1893, Durant and Co sold on our behalf goods to the value of £39 3s. 1d.—we received this cheque from the prisoner for £110 19s. 7d., closing both accounts—we were not indebted to Messrs. Durant £71 16s. 6d., or any sum in May this year.
HERBERT PHILIP SALENGER . I am an importer of silk piece goods at 4, Milk Street—I have known Durant and Co. as piece goods brokers since May, 1893—before then I knew the prisoner as carrying on that business—I had transactions with him—in January, 1894, the prisoner borrowed £50 from me—that was paid off by Durant's cheque—Durant and Co owed me no money at this time.
WILLIAM HOELTRING . I am a confidential clerk in the employment of Messrs. Kahn and Kanh, of Paris—prior to May, 1893, we dealt with the prisoner, and since then with Durant and Co.—in January, 1894, the prisoner owed us £121 in respect of a transaction we had with him two or three years previously I think—on 5th January I sent him a draft for acceptance for that amount—on February 19th I received this letter from him. (Stating that he had paid to their credit £121)—at that time Durant and Co. were indebted to us in respect of goods to the value of £385 0s. 3d.—those amounts were all paid to us—I also received this letter from the prisoner. (Stating that he had paid certain sums into there account)—that makes up £385 due from Durant and Co.—those amounts and the £121 were paid into our London banking account.
CHARLES WILLIAM BEDFORD . I am a clerk in the employment of the London and India Docks—on 21st February, 1894, the prisoner came to me with a delivery order, signed Reiss Brothers, for a case of piece goods, marked "W.P. 1160"—I made out a warrant for them—he signed for it—he said he wanted it at once—he told me not to put the number of the pieces on the warrant.
Cross-examined. He simply asked me not to show the number of pieces on the warrant—I don't know the meaning of that—the pieces were in a case, and had been counted—I did not tell him how many pieces there were—the order was made out to Durant and Co.—the prisoner put the instructions on the back of the order, and signed it—he paid the charges, and had the warrant—there was nothing extraordinary about the transaction that I am aware of.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, December 12th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
95. CHARLES FOSTER (65) PLEADED GUILTY to six Indictments for stealing horses, carts, harness and corn, of William Coutts, William Bishop, and other persons, having been before convicted in the name of Robert Ives. (See next case.)
MR. PURCELL Prosecuted, and MR. CALVERT Defended Smith.
CHARLES TRAILL . I live at Ealing Road, Alfreton—on October 4th I saw my cob and silver-plated harness safe—I missed it next day, and the stable was broken open—they were brought back on October 28th; they were worth £60—the cob was given to me.
FREDERICK ADAMS . I keep a beer-house, the Barley Mow, 127, East Street, Limehouse—I have seen a man three times in twenty-five years, who goes by the names of Williams, Adams and Jinks; he is my stepbrother, his real name is Jinks—he was in and out of my house on October 5th with the prisoners Smith and Foster and Medcalf—I do not remember having seen Foster before—Smith keeps the Salisbury Arms, about thirty yards from me—Jinks had a cob with him, and they were running it up and down the street, showing the action—Jinks brought it at 9.30 a.m.—Smith and I went to my solicitor's, 37, Walbrook; we started at eleven o'clock—Jinks and the cob were outside; he wanted to sell it—Jinks drove us to the Mansion House, and this very cob was in the cart—Smith got out at the Mansion House, and Jinks drove on to the stable yard—I don't think anything was said on the drive about the cob—about 5.30 or six, Jinks drove the cob up to my door, and about eight or 8.30 Smith, Jinks, Medcalf, and Foster came into my bar—Medcalf is a coke and coal dealer—Smith and Medcalf asked me whether I had a private room—I said that I had no room but my "living" room, and passed them into my bar parlour; and Smith said, "Will you buy the cob and harness?"—I said, "No; I can't afford to keep one"—he said, "Do you think it is straight?"—I said, "If there is anything wrong I would not have it done in my house"—he said, "I have bought it for £20, and have paid a deposit of £4"—Jinks said, "I want the balance, you had better write the cheque in Adams's name, because Jinks has no banking account," and they made the cheque payable to me for £9—Smith took out his cheque book and wrote it—he also handed Jinks £7 in gold and silver, making the amount up to £20—this receipt was given, and Jinks took it away—I presented the cheque next morning, and it was returned marked "N. S."—I was misled; I did not know I was to retain it till gold was brought—I learned from my wife that Smith had sent to stop me from going to the bank—I never saw the cob, cart, or harness again—I saw Smith in the neighbourhood nearly every day.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. Smith has been a neighbour of mine some time—I always knew him as a respectable man—I did not tell him that Jinks was my brother—I spoke of him as my stepbrother, and I believe Smith knew that as long ago as April last—he went by the name of Adams at that time, and till the end of October—the cob was offered to me, and I said I could not afford it.
THOMAS BUSH . I am a fish curer, of 134, Elan Street, Limehouse—on October 30th, about 10.30, I was at the Gallant Hussars, and Smith pulled up with a horse and cart, and asked the landlord to come and see them—he said he had given £16 10s. for the horse—I said, "How much will you take for it?"—he said, "The harness also belongs to me; I will take £20 for the horse and harness"—I offered him £19—he said, "No; £20"—I am not a judge of horses; that was the first I had ever bought—he said he would see me in the morning, and see if we could come to an arrangement—next morning I went to the public-house with Mr.
Smith and Mr. Mitchell, and said, "Now, what about that horse?"—he said, "I have told you £20"—I said, "Say £19"—he got the horse out, and ran him about, and I bought him for £19 15s., and went back into his house, and paid the money—he said, "You can have the receipt made out for £22, if you like"—I said, "Make my receipt for what I give you," and handed him the money, had a drink, and went out—on the Friday night I said, "Who did you buy that horse of?"—he said, of Mr. Adams's brother, who keeps the beerhouse close to him, and if anything was to happen I should have my money returned—he said that on both occasions—I said, "I hope I am dealing with a straightforward, honest man"—he said, "Yes; you are"—Fulcher afterwards came to me, and I gave up the cob to him, and I went to Smith and told him it was a stolen horse, but did not tell him what the detective had told me—he went with me and saw my father-in-law—the detective had not come then—he said, "You will have to give it up"—I said, "I gave you £19 15s. for it"—he said, "I have not got the money, you shall hold my cab as security," and I have got it still.
HENRY FULCHER (413 H). On October 25th I accompanied Mr. Bush to his stable, and he showed me a bay mare which answered the description of a horse stolen at Harrow, and Thompson, the prosecutor's coachman, identified her, and I handed her over—Smith was there, and said that he bought her of a man known to him as Adams, for £20, and showed me the receipt—on November 23rd I took Ashton at Sugar Loaf Walk, Bethnal Green—I said I was a police officer, and was going to take him in custody for stealing some horses—he said, "Well, I was only employed by two men, Foster and Williams, or Adams; I might be very useful to you later"—we went to the station; he refused his name and address but eventually gave it and said he withheld it because his mother was ill—Foster was at the Court-house, Edgware, and Ashton was put with him—he spoke to Smith on the platform and said, "Halloa, Fred, are you here?" and Adams said in their hearing, "That is two of the men."
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. I believe Smith has done everything to assist the police.
JOHN RAGWELL (Detective X). On October 27th I went to Mr. Bush's and saw the horse—Smith was there, and Mr. Bush said, "That is the man I bought the horse of"—Smith said, "That is quite correct, I bought it of two men; one keeps a beer-house; I thought it was straight"—I went to Arbour Square and saw the property handed to the coachman—on October 8th I went to the Salisbury public-house and told Smith I should take him for being concerned with others in stealing a horse and cart and a set of harness—he said, "What about Percival and Bush?"—I said, "I have no doubt they will be at the station by the time we arrive"—he said, "I bought the horse knowing that his brother kept a house next door, and I believed it was all right."
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. Smith has done everything to assist the police—when we arrived at Arbour Square the other two men were outside a public-house.
THOMAS BOWLES (Police Sergeant 406). I was at Harrow Station on October 28th when the charge was entered against Smith—he said, "I admit I bought it, but I did not know it was stolen"—I took the charge
against Ashton—he said, "What! has he got another name? he has several aliases; make it 'concerned,' for I was only working for them"—Foster and Smith had been charged previously.
By the COURT. Foster was charged in the name of James Ashton, and Ashton possibly meant that he had got another name—he did not seem to recognise the name of Foster.
Cross-examined by MR. CALVERT. When he said, "I was working for them," reference had not been made to Smith—I did not gather that he was working for Smith.
NOT GUILTY .
Foster had PLEADED GUILTY , and MR. PURCELL offered no evidence against Ashton and Smith.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PURCELL offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .—Sentence on FOSTER, Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HALL Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
THOMAS ABBOTT (City Detective Inspector). On November 12th, at 6.15 p.m., I was on duty with a constable in Camomile Street, and saw the prisoners and other men—George Hawkins came up with a horse, and van outside the Salisbury Anns—I was watching something else in the house; it was a very wet night; George Hawkins was walking about, and looking about in an anxious way, which attracted my suspicions—I went in a warehouse to get out of his way—he went away a few minutes before seven, returned, gave a signal, a van came up, and three men commenced putting lead from an unfinished building into the van; 12 cwt. was put in in less than five minutes—I got into a dark door-way, and saw George Hawkins walk towards the van; I stopped him in Houndstitch, and said, "I am a police officer; what have you got in the van?"—he said, "I don't know; I am hired to do the job"—I told him to get down—he refused, and I pulled him down—he struggled, and I had to call for assistance—he was taken to the station—I cautioned him that I should have to repeat what he said—he said that he was hired by his brother James, and gave his address, and also the address of his brother Joseph—he said he was playing at skittles all day, and was asked to remove some coal, and thought this was a similar job—I said, "I suppose it was not"—he said, "No, it looks more serious"—I took Joseph Hawkins next day, and Goodwin surrendered, saving that he knew I was after him.
Cross-examined. George did not tell me that he was told to wait outside the Salisbury—I do not know whether he carries coal—he said that
McCrea, the boy, worked with him—George told me where his brother lived, and gave me every assistance—he said nothing about Goodwin; he said his two brothers; that he was hired by his brother James to do the job, and he was the ringleader.
By the COURT. The lead had been laid there to be used on the building—it was worth about £18—he drew his van up, and I saw the gate opened by someone who must have climbed over the hoarding.
ARTHUR MCCREA . I am a call boy in the employ of the prisoner George—he came to me at home between five and six p.m. on November 12th, said he was going to do a job, and told me to get the pony ready—I did so, and he drove to Camomile Street—he went into the Salisbury Arms, and I waited outside with the van about three-quarters of an hour—when he came out he asked if I had seen his brother James—I said, "No," and he went up the street—his brother James came up soon afterwards, and told me to follow him—I drove the van to St. Mary Axe, and some men loaded it with lead—I did not see the prisoner—the gates were open, but I did not go in—George Hawkins returned just as they had finished putting it on, and he and I drove away with the lead—I heard nothing said as to where it was to be taken to—it was quite dark.
Cross-examined. I have worked for George about four months—he did not tell me that the moving job was to be done for James, but James told me to drive to the unfinished buildings—James may have told George to drive on—I was taken before the Magistrate and discharged.
Re-examined. I did not hear James direct him to drive on—he never told me where he was going with the lead.
WILLIAM ANDREWS . I am a labourer in the employ of Ryder and Son, and was engaged at this unfinished house in St. Mary Axe—between six and 6.30 p.m. I went round the premises to see if all was secure—the hoarding was fastened by a pin going right through—I got in of a morning by the private door—this lead is the same as was on the works—the prisoner Joseph was a labourer there, but he was discharged on the Saturday because we wanted to shorten the hands.
Cross-examined. He was only an ordinary labourer—I have known him five months working there—James Hawkins was also employed there—he was foreman of the scaffolding, and was paid off on the previous Saturday at the same time as Joseph. GEORGE HAWKINS**
He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at the Thames Police-court on May 20th, 1892.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. JOSEPH HAWKINS and GOODWIN— Four Month' Hard Labour each.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
After the commencement of the case the prisoners stated that they wished to PLEAD GUILTY, upon which the JURY found them
GUILTY .— Five Months' Hard Labour each.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, December 13th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted, and MR. P. TAYLOR Defended.
GEORGE FEAU EVANS . I am a tanner and general manufacturer, of 292, Kingsland Road, London, and Sittingbourne, in Kent—the prisoner has been a customer of mine three or four years, and got in my debt £1,100 for goods and money, and there were £300 worth of bills dishonoured—I issued a writ, got judgment, and put in an execution, but instead of pushing the judgment we executed this agreement, and I with-drew the Sheriff—it is dated September 26th and signed by us both, and by it, for the consideration of £300, he assigns to me the lease and stock of 292, Kingsland Road—I arranged that he was to become manager of the manufactory at £3 a week—he was to pay the workmen their wages on Saturday and come to me on Friday with the wages-sheet to show me the amount of money required, including Saturday—I had no London banking account then, I banked at the London and County at Sitting-bourne—the prisoner had told me in a letter that his account was closed, but I was aware from my past transactions that the London and South-Western Bank treated my cheques as cash—I went to the prisoner's bank with him, the London and South-Western, and the manager said that he owed them £10; I wrote a cheque for it, and opened a fresh account in my own name, and the Sittingbourne cheques would be honoured there—that was about the 26th—the name of the firm at Kingsland was Powell and Co., but I altered the facia about October 16th to "The Kingsland Boot Manufacturing Company"—on Friday night, November 3rd, the prisoner presented this wages sheet, amounting to £16 6s. 11d.—he told me that in addition to the wages there were some trifling expenses, and that £2 10s. was due to Powell and Co., which ought to be paid, for writing up the name—I gave him a cheque for £18 18s. 1d.—there was another little sheet, containing some petty cash, which made up the difference—this cheque has gone through my bank, and has been returned as honoured—I asked the prisoner for Powell's account—he said, "I have not got one," and the matter passed from my mind till Nuttrell, who is in my service, gave me this receipt on the 19th, from Powell and Co., for £2 10s., purporting to be nettled on November 2nd—there is a dash under the 10s., showing that was £2 originally, and not £2 10s.—I recognised the signature, "Powell and Co.," and the figures as the prisoner's writing—before Nuttall brought me the receipt I had spoken to the prisoner about other matters, and the police had seen him—this cheque (produced), dated November 7th, 1894, "Pay Powell and Co., or Order," is in the prisoner's writing, and the endorsement, "Powell and Co." is his—it was passed through the bank and cancelled—on 20th November I asked the prisoner for an explanation of the altered account; Finnucane was with me—the prisoner said, "I altered the receipt because it ought to have been £2 10s."—I believe he said he had paid it—the detective asked him to say definitely who signed it—he said, "I signed it; I am in the habit of doing so"—I understood him to say that he was in the habit
of signing similar documents in other persons' names—this is a genuine signature of Powell and Co., acknowledging the receipt of £2. (Dated 20th November.)
Cross-examined. Before I took over the assignment of the prisoner's business I had been assisting him largely—he had not been assisting me—I commenced to deal with him about 1891, and very soon after December, 1891, he commenced to sign bills—I supplied him with leather and money and he supplied me with boots—we had cross, accounts—the account between us between April 2nd, 1891, and August 3rd, 1894, amounted to, I think, £1,700—it is extremely probable that he gave me bills during the same period for an amount exceeding £4,000, but I totally deny that any of them were for my accommodation—I had to renew bills constantly at his request—these (produced) are the statements of the business before I took it over—I received various customers' bills, which are included in the £1,700—I do not think I was paid any cash by the prisoner; not £100 in cash the whole time—there were occasional cheques—I do not mean to tell the Jury I allowed him to continue my debtor in £1,700; it was £1,100—I do not admit that a considerable amount of cash was paid me during those years—this list (produced) is a correct one of the bills given in September, 1891"—they were given for four months—they were new bills to enable him to execute an order, and in no case were they accommodation bills—it would take three days to clear my cheques with a stranger—I deny that I sent my crossed cheque, he sending his bill the same day and so be in funds to meet my own crossed cheque—his stock-in-trade that I took was valued by the Sheriff at £290, but Ayres made it £700—it is utterly false that before I entered into this agreement with him, I arranged to give him a partnership in the business to the amount of £500—I deny that I contemplated partnership with him—I did not give him details of a proposed partnership—the prisoner showed me this draft deed (produced) last July—I was pressing him for a settlement of my account, and he said if he had a considerably increased stock he could increase the business—he would see his solicitor and see if I could not be secured—he afterwards produced this; I opened it and found it was a deed of partnership—I did not know that he had a banking account—I did not draw my cheques to bearer because they Were made out to the Kingsland Boot Co.; and I saw a gentleman at the bank, and asked him to pay cash; if they objected he should have told me of it—they did object to cashing one cheque, because he owed them £2 19s., which I gave him—I say that his having a banking account was done to deceive me—I objected to his paying it in to his account—he had not to give me a rough sketch on Friday, and the accurate amount on Monday; but on one or two occasions he gave me an account on Monday of amounts which could not be collected on Friday—he may have paid money out of his own pocket; he would charge that in his accounts—I know nothing about Mr. Wright—that matter occurred on a Monday, and my pay day is Friday—I do not know whether he paid one of the carpenters 9s.; I know I paid it—I did not want him to pay; I had a cashier there—I did not trust him with money; he was manager of the manufactory—he possibly paid Mr. Davis 10s.; Davis denied it—I have made an investigation, and cannot trace it—the prisoner's writing on the
back of the cheque for £210s. is perfectly undisguised, and I should recognise it at once—I never expected to see the cheque—I was shown the counterfoil at the Police-court—he was represented there by a solicitor—I really mean to suggest that there was an attempt at the Police-court to deceive me—I actually saw the receipt for £2 from Mr. Powell the day before his arrest, and when he was arrested he said, "I thought Powell's bill was £2 10s., and I put the 10s. there"—he told the Magistrate he had paid £2 10s., and the counterfoil is made out for £2 10s.—I do not know why that was not put in my depositions—he said that it was a mistake, he had paid £2, and referred to the counterfoil.
Re-examined. "Powell and Co.," in the prisoner's undisguised writing, would be on the cheque, which would remain with the bank—the entry in the pass-book would not be in his writing—this is his writing, "Not able to keep my engagement with you"—he also says, "Whereas in an action for £300 and costs an execution has been levied, and whereas the vendor is indebted to the purchaser in the further sum of £700," and he signs that—all that time the Sheriff was in possession—I might have made him a bankrupt—the valuation of stock is signed "C. Evans"—at the time he made the statement about the £2 10s. and the counterfoil he was represented by a solicitor.
By the COURT. In consideration of his signing that statement I did not make him a bankrupt, and withdrew the Sheriff.
CHARLES EDWARD POWELL . I am a sign-writer, of 102, Stoke Newington Road—I executed the alteration of the facia at 102, Stoke Newington Road, when the business was taken over by Mr. Evans—I sent in this account dated October 16th, but I did not know Mr. Evans; it was made out to Mr. Ayres for £2—this 10s. was not inserted by my authority or knowledge—this, "Received 2nd March, 1894, Powell and Co.," is not written by me or by my authority—I did not receive the £2 10s.—this "Powell and Co." on the back of this cheque is not my writing or written with my authority or knowledge—the prisoner paid me this account dated November 20th, 1894, for £2, and signed "Powell and Co."—that was not a second account which I had sent in—Ayres came on November 2nd, and said he had called to pay the account but had not got the invoice with him; I made out this statement and he gave me a cheque for £2 on his own account.
JOHN LEON CARTWRIGHT . I am a cashier at the London and South Western Bank, Shoreditch—Mr. Ayres was one of the customers—I produced a copy of his account which I made from the ledger, which is actually in use—in October he paid in a cheque for £18 16s. 1d., and on November 27th he is indebted with a cheque for £2 paid to Powell and Co.—it is simply a cross entry—we return our cheques for them to be posted into the book.
Re-examined. I should not give this cheque to anybody but a customer.
BERNARD FINNUCANE (Detective Sergeant J). On November 14th I first saw the prisoner in the presence of Mr. Evans, and had a conversation with him about other matters than the cheque—I saw him again on November 20th—this receipt for £2 10s. was brought to his notice, and Mr. Evans said, "Why did you alter the amount of Powell's bill?"—he said, "I thought Powell's bill was £2 10s., and I put the 10s. there"—Mr. Evans said, "Is the receipt to the bill in your writing?"—after a great
deal of hesitation he said, "Well, yes; I have often done it in business"—he was taken to the station and charged with obtaining £2 10s. by false pretences; he made no answer—he was taken before Mr. Lane next day, and while the case was in progress Mr. Lane was taken ill, and the case was taken by Mr. Gross.
Cross-examined. There was considerable hesitation before he answered; he tried to speak to Mr. Evans on other points, and did not answer the question he was asked.
ALFRED NUTTALL . I am Mr. Evans's clerk—I found this receipt for £2 10s. on the file in the office—I did not put it there—I should file receipts given to me—I handed it to Mr. Evans on the morning of November 20th.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
Another indictment against the prisoner was postponed to the next Session.
OLD COURT. Friday, December 14th, and Saturday, 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
104. THOMAS MATTHEW CATTERMOUL (49) , Feloniously setting fire to certain matters and things in his dwelling-house, under such circumstances as would have amounted to felony had the house been set fire to. Other Counts varying the form of charge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATTHEWS and MUIR Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and MARSHALL Defended.
GEORGE SHARP (City Policeman 428). I am accustomed to the making of plans—on the 15th October I examined the offices on the second floor of No. 12, Walbrook, and took measurements of them, and the contents, from which I made the plan produced—it is accurate and to scale—in the empty room there were two heaps of loose paper, with a line of loose paper running between them, and connecting them—one heap was leaning against the partition; that heap was about four feet six long, one foot nine wide, and about twenty inches high; the other was three feet in diameter, and two feet six high—the distance between the two heaps was about six feet.
Cross-examined. Before I took the plan I asked the prisoner's permission to do so, and he gave it.
By the COURT. The paper in the heaps was loose paper, which had apparently been used in a law stationer's business—I did not examine them; I merely looked at them, and ran my rule over them as I was making the plan—the prisoner was there at the time, in his private office, when I was in the other room—I disturbed about two handfuls of the paper, not more—there was nothing more than I should expect to find in a law stationer's office—it was scattered zigzag indiscriminately, indicating it having been laid as a train—I never saw a train of paper laid between two heaps.
FREDERICK WILLIAM FOSTER . I am an architect—on December 8th I went to the premises on the second floor of 12, Walbrook, and took mensurements, from which I made the model produced—it includes the whole of the rooms on the second floor except the large waiting room and
the stairs—it is accurate and according to scale—the partition between the two rooms is mainly composed of lath and plaster and timber framing—the part between the private office and the empty rooms is wood with glazed panels—the stairs are of wood from top to bottom—it is a very old building; there is a date of 1668 on the front.
Cross-examined. This model was made two months after the fire—in the general office there was a paper cutting machine composed of metal and wood—no one went with me to make the measurements—I did not give the prisoner's solicitor or anybody notice to attend while I did it—the height of the partition is ten feet four to the ceiling—the top of the bookcase is a foot below the ceiling—there were a good many books on the shelves.
DANIEL SELVEY . I am an engineer's labourer, living at 12, Walbrook, with my wife and two children and my mother—we have the top floor immediately above the offices occupied by the prisoner—I am also the housekeeper of the premises, and have been so for two years—during that time the prisoner has occupied the offices on the second floor—I slept there with my wife and family up to the night of October 9th, and we were going to sleep there on that flight—on that day I was standing at the street door smoking my pipe, and about half-past eight I saw the prisoner leave the offices; he came downstairs and passed me, as I was standing at the front door—he was alone when he locked his door and came down, but a gentleman friend came down before him smoking a cigar—the prisoner came down directly after him; I heard him lock his door—he pulled out his watch and looked at the time, and then looked up, and said, "If Mrs. Cattermoul comes, tell her that I am gone"—he said nothing more, nothing about coming back—when he looked at his watch I looked at mine; it was half-past eight by mine—he then went away and the gentleman with him—they went towards the Mansion House—I remained standing at the door—after a short time, soon after the prisoner had left, my attention was attracted by the reflection of a body of flame in the window of a second floor opposite—I went out into the road and looked, and saw the reflection of a fire in Mr. Cattermoul's front office—I ran upstairs to the second floor; I heard the crackling of wood—I tried to get his doors open—there were two, one leading on to the landing and into a little hall, and one from the hall into the front office—I could not get them to open, they were locked—I had to break open the one leading into the general office—from that there is a door leading into the empty room—that door was not locked; I opened it—turning to the right I got to another door which leads into the little hall; that was shut, but not locked—I unlatched it and went into the small hall, and then into the private office, and there I saw a body of fire. (The witness pointed out on the model the position of the various doors and rooms)—the fire was coming out of a large drawer at the bottom of the drawers; it was drawn three parts out—in front of the drawers was a Windsor chair, with a coat hanging on the back of it, close against the drawer where the fire was, about two inches from it—the seat of the chair was towards the door—I did not touch or move the drawer; I left it as it was—the blinds of the windows towards Walbrook were all down—I had never noticed them down before during the two years I was there—they were white blinds—there were two small drawers above the
under one; one of them was open about three or four inches, and the other was open about four inches—I did not interfere with them at all—I went and got a pail of water—to get out I had to go through Mr. Cattermoul's side door—I had to burst that open from the inside; it opened outwards—that was one of the doors I had found locked—I went upstairs to my place to get the pail of water—I brought it down to the office, and threw it into the drawer on the body of the fire—it had no effect—I went upstairs, and got another pail of water, and threw that on—it had no effect at all—I then took a large mat which I found in the front office, close to Mr. Cattermoul's desk, and threw that over the top of the drawer that was on fire—the flames came over the top of the drawer round the mat—I then took off my own coat, and threw that right in between the flap where the flames were coming up, to damp it and put it out—I then noticed what was in the drawer; I believe it was tow, and it smelt very strongly of paraffin—having got out the fire, I went into the empty room—I there saw a great pile of paper at the back of the partition, where the fire was, close to it—I felt the partition; it was quite hot—I then went downstairs, saw a constable, and spoke to him—after that the members of the Fire Brigade came—as near as possible, there was about a quarter of an hour between the time of my going down and their coming—I then went upstairs again—up to the arrival of the brigade I did not touch the drawers, the chair or the coat—Mrs. Cattermoul did call that night; I saw her—that was after I had put the fire out and before the Fire Brigade came—I went with her upstairs to the second floor; I took her into the private office, and showed it to her—after that I remained downstairs till twenty minutes to one in the morning—I did not see anybody up to that time the prisoner did not come—I saw him next morning, the 10th, just before eleven, in his private office—I came down to him from my rooms upstairs and found him there—I said, "Good morning, Mr. Cattermoul"—I showed him where the tire was—I said the place was afire, and I stopped till twenty minutes to one in the morning for him, having sent him a message through Mrs. Cattermoul—he said he could not get up; he was too late for the train—when I showed him where the fire was he took it in good part—he said he could not help me in regard to this matter—I then left him with his son Tom—the drawers had been closed at that time—the next morning I saw the prisoner at the premises a little before eleven—he ordinarily came there at 8.45—I cannot say what time he came on the 10th—after showing him where the fire had been I went downstairs—I saw him about a quarter of an hour after that at the door—a gentleman friend, whom I had not seen before, was with him—the prisoner asked me to go and have a drink with him and the friend—I said, "No, sir"—he then offered me 2d. and said, "Go and have a drink yourself"—I said, "No thank you, sir"—he and his friend went away and I remained at the premises—on the Saturday before last Bank Holiday he got me to bring half a gallon of ale from the public-house to the office—I did not drink with him then—I used to drink a glass of ale, but I find myself better in health without it—he had never offered me a drink or money to get drink More that morning—when I went upstairs to put the fire out my wife and family were upstairs.
Cross-examined. I have worn the blue ribbon for about six months—I
cleaned the prisoner's office once in six or seven weeks—I have been in his rooms more than three times in two years—I did not swear at the Police-court to my knowledge that I had only been there times in two years—I went in once in six or seven weeks—he paid me every Saturday when the work was done; he owed me nothing—I never had the keys of his rooms—I have the keys of other offices there—from 9th October till 15th October no fireman or salvage man was left in charge of the rooms—I could not say if the prisoner came there every day between those dates—before the fire he had no fixed time for coming there—I threw my coat over the fire; I had not singed it—I did not tell the prisoner I had thrown it over; I merely told him where the fire was—I did not tell him what I had done to put it out—I told him I had put it out—I left the mat on the top of the drawers—I don't know what had become of it next morning; I did not take it off—I have never seen it since the fire—I do not know who has it—it is a common doormat, with a green border—when I went into the room and saw the fire there was no gas in the room—the room was full of smoke—I can swear the bottom of the chair with the coat on it was within two inches of the fire—in throwing the two buckets of water into the drawer I touched the chair, and I put the buckets of water on the chair—the coat was burning, and the chair, too—I have seen the model, not a plan—I don't know if Sharp asked me where the chair was—I showed the police, when they came up on the same night, where the fire was, and where the chair and coat were—I won't swear Sharp has not since asked me to point out where the chair was; he has not to my knowledge—I was before the Coroner, and the Grand Jury—I don't know if anyone from the City Solicitor's office wrote down what I was going to say—a gentleman took me into a room, and asked me a number of questions—I don't know if that was before I appeared at the inquest—I did not disturb the heap of paper against the match-boarding, or anything—I put my hands down and pulled the paper to one side to see if there was any fire.
By the COURT. When I heard him lock the two doors I was standing on the doorstep at 12, Walbrook, smoking my pipe—it is generally my rule after sweeping hours to go down and have a smoke and walk up and down, and then generally to look round to see that everything is safe—I had been into his rooms before—the waste-paper was in the empty room—I had been in there before, but had not seen any waste-paper there, I can swear—I was last in that room about two months before, I should think—there was no waste-paper there then—there is a great deal of waste-paper in a law stationer's office—I don't know where it was kept—there was a box under the cutting machine, where I have seen paper cuttings—I never knew what became of them when the box was full—I never inquired—there was no trace of fire in that room—the prisoner's rooms are lighted by gas, nothing else—all the gas was turned off when I saw the fire in the drawer—there was no light in the room, except such as came from the drawer—I called no one's attention to the reflection I saw on the opposite windows—I had no difficulty in getting through the doors into the room, except that the doors were locked; there was nothing else to obstruct me—there was no trace of the fire before I got into the rooms, and nothing to indicate it, except the reflection upon the
opposite windows—there was nothing to obstruct my going upstairs—if I had not seen the reflection, I might have been on the landing without knowing that there was any fire inside—there was no smoke coming through the doors, or about the passages—the bottom drawer was the only one alight; that was flaming up at least a yard—the flame and smoke filled up the whole of the open drawer—in the second drawer were bundles of string and other articles—I had not seen bundles of string there before—there was nothing alight in the third drawer—the flame from the bottom drawer came right up the front of the drawers—when I went in with the firemen I saw loose tow in the bottom drawer; it was just the same as you have when a piece of rope is pulled apart very fine, and which they use for caulking water-pipes—I did not see it before that—I did not see what was burning in the drawer—I saw a drawer at the Mansion House—the second drawer was burnt—I saw it burning—the front was burnt away, I could not say if the whole of it was—the front of the top drawer was burnt—when I saw the reflection in the opposite windows I went out into the road, and looked up at the window, and saw the reflection of the fire in the prisoner's room—the blind was down, the reflection was thrown through it; I could see the reflection in the opposite house very plainly—as it was a white blind I should say that pulling it down would have no effect—I then ran upstairs to the second floor, outside the prisoner's office—I was very much alarmed—I went through the two doors I have mentioned into the room, and then got a pail of water from my own top room where we sleep—my wife and family and mother were there—I was in a great fright—I did not call out to them that there was a fire; I wanted to put it out—I called my wife's attention to the fire, and she came down afterwards when the policeman came, not before—I told her of it before, but she was too much trembling to hear of it—I have not mentioned that before to anyone—we always burn paraffin—we keep it in a half-gallon can in a cool part under the window—no one else in that house burns paraffin, or to my knowledge has it—half a gallon lasts us a few weeks, I should think—downstairs in the lobby there is a swing door before you get to the doorway where I was smoking my pipe—it swings very easily—I went through it when I went to smoke; it swung very easily—I pushed it and it came back afterwards.
ELIZA HOLLOWAY . I am the wife of Alfred Holloway, and live at 72, Great Cambridge Street, Hackney Road—on the evening of 9th October I left 35, Walbrook, about 8.30—as I passed No. 12 I saw Selvey stand ing against his door, smoking his pipe—I then stood talking to a friend at No. 27, and about four minutes after I had seen Selvey, my friend drew my attention to a flare on the second floor of No. 12, Walbrook—my back was towards No. 12; I looked round and saw it—I did not look towards the door of No. 12 after that; I did not see Selvey afterwards—I looked up and saw the blaze in the room—I looked at my clock when I left No. 35, because I was going to the chemist's, and it would be no use getting there after nine—it was half-past eight when I left my rooms.
GEORGE EMERY (560, City). On the evening of 9th October I was on duty in Walbrook—about 8.40 Selvey called my attention to a fire—I went at once to an office on the second floor of No. 12—I saw in the front office that a fire had been extinguished—three drawers were open; the
bottom drawer was opened rather wider than the other two, and of those two the lower one was open about two inches further than the top one, I should say—I examined nothing—I did not move anything in the room—I did not touch the drawers—there was a chair; I did not touch it—I came down into the street and sent Selvey for the Fire Brigade, and passed word to my sergeant, and I stopped outside the street door until the firemen came—no one that I know of entered the office between the time I left and the time the firemen came.
Cross-examined. I went to see if the fire was all out and then came out—the room was full of smoke—I had no lantern—there was no light in the room, and none on the landing—I can speak to a difference of two inches between the drawers—I did not put it down in any book—the housekeeper's wife brought a candle, and stood on the landing just outside the door holding the candle; she did not go into the room.
Re-examined. The candle gave some light to me, I am sure.
By the COURT. The candle threw a light into the room, so that I could see the drawers—it threw a light about three parts across the room—I am sure it was a candle.
JAMES GEORGE SMITH . I am a fireman, stationed at Watling Street—on the evening of 9th October Selvey called me to 12, Walbrook, and I went there with him and another fireman—I examined the private office—I saw three drawers of a chest of drawers partially pulled out—this, the bottom one, was about two-thirds out; the second one not quite so much, about half-way out; and the highest one was not quite so much out as the second—I found in the bottom drawer a quantity of two and some burnt pieces of paper, also some liquid which I examined and found to be water and paraffin—it smelt of paraffin—the drawer was not quite half full of tow, it was wet—water had been thrown over it—I arrived at Walbrook about two or three minutes after nine—the contents of the drawer smelt strongly of paraffin—the fronts of the two drawers above the bottom one were slightly charred as though by burning—at that time I applied a match to a small portion of the contents of the bottom drawer, and it readily ignited—in the second drawer were some balls of string and, I believe, some papers—in the first drawer were some papers—when I arrived I saw a chair close to the chest of drawers, sideways—on the back of it was a coat which hung between the drawers where the fire had originated and the door—the front of the chair faced the door—the coat was two or three inches from the bottom drawer—almost the whole of the back of the coat was burnt out—this is the coat, it looks like a kind of serge, a woollen material—I noticed a glass window in the corner of the front office between it and the staircase leading to the floor above—the chair and coat would partially obscure the fire from the window—the drawers and its contents were very hot indeed, but there was no fire—I put my hand in the recess from which I drew the drawer; it was very hot indeed—through that recess I could reach with my hand the matchboard partition running behind; it was quite hot behind the drawer—that matchboard lining was between three and four feet high, and above that was glass—I went into the empty room—I saw a quantity of waste paper against the partition, which at that place was warm—in the opposite corner was a quantity of paper shavings, clippings from the machine—between those two heaps there were a few
odd pieces of paper—I made a minute search to try and discover any; bottle or vessel containing paraffin—I did not find any, or any containing any other oil—Inspector Eve arrived while I was there—I remained in charge of the place for perhaps half an hour; I left the police behind me—I have not seen the premises since—the bottom drawer, which I took out, I put against the recess, not inside; I left the contents in it just the same—I left Inspector Eve there.
Cross-examined. I did not smell the coat, nor handle it, nor take it off the chair, but left it hanging there—it was brought to the inquest with the drawer; not in it nor on the top of it, but wrapped in paper—I moved part of the paper in the empty room to one side to see if there was any fire there.
Re-examined. My interference did not place the paper between the two heaps.
By the COURT. The second heap of paper was against the party wall, I should say; it was in the opposite corner, touching the wall—I cannot say if there was any wood there—the window looking out on the staircase is a fanlight—the private office is about fourteen by eight; I have not measured it—the skylight is considerably above the height of the chair—the chair was an ordinary chair—it and the coat would not obscure the reflection of the fire after it had gained any proportion—if you could see it on the other side of the street I should expect to see it through the skylight—the moment a light was applied to loose tow, saturated with paraffin, it would flare up like a beacon, and burn itself out at once—there was much loose, and all the loose was burnt—in the second drawer were bundles of string, labels, bill-heads, and such things as are found in a stationer's shop—in the book-case were account-books, apparently for sale, about six by four and two inches thick—they were not very inflammable.
WALTER ADAMS . I am district superintendent of the London Salvage Corps, stationed at Watling Street—on the night of the 9th October I went to these premises about a quarter to eleven—I have been eighteen and a half years in the Salvage Corps and two years in the Fire Brigade—I examined the premises on that night. (MR. MATHEWS proceeded to ask the witness, as an expert, whether, in his opinion, there was anything which pointed to the fire being accidentally caused. MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the question, as it was one of the matters the JURY had to determine. MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS ruled that the evidence could not be admitted, as it was not a question of scientific knowledge, but the mere opinion of the witness, and that all the evidence the witness could give would be what he observed.
HENRY EVE (Inspector, City). Shortly after nine p.m. on October 9th, I went to 12, Walbrook, and inspected the office on the second floor—Smith was there when I arrived—I noticed a strong smell of paraffin coming from under the drawers—there was no smoke at the time—I searched for, but could not find any bottle or vessel that had contained paraffin or any other inflammable oil—this drawer was about two-thirds out of the nest of drawers—Smith afterwards left, and I remained for a short time—when I left the drawer was still in the nest of drawers—there was some tow, similar to this, and these pieces of paper in it—the tow has been kept in the box ever since—I last saw it that night, about
half-past nine—I next saw the drawer on October 15th, at the inquest—Sharp produced it then—I was present at the inquest, and was sworn and examined as a witness—on October 17th I and Chief Inspector Hosking, who has since died, had a conversation with the prisoner—I did not take it down in writing, as Hosking was in charge of the case really; I generally take notes—we had then no warrant for the prisoner's arrest, nor were we contemplating it—he was asked by Hosking whether he had purchased any paraffin or oils; he said, "No"—he was asked as to where Mr. Hurst lived; he said he lived somewhere in the neighbourhood of Hoxton—I asked the prisoner when he next saw Hurst after the fire—he said the next morning—I said, "By arrangement?"—he said, "No, whenever he comes into the City he gives me a call; although we are friends, I don't know where he resides"—Hosking asked him where he went to on the night of the fire; he said, "I went with Home friends to see the Tower Bridge, and it was late before I got home; my friends have gone into the country"—Hosking asked whether he could give the names and addresses of his friends; he made no reply—I knew he lived at Manor Park—Hosking asked him by what train he left Manor Park the following morning—he said that he missed his usual train, but came on by the one later, at 9.51, which would bring him to Liverpool Street about 10.25 a.m.—during this interview the prisoner's son was present; he is twenty-three or twenty-four years old, I should think; he heard what occurred—Hosking being dead, I deposed to this interview before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. The greater part of the conversation was between Hosking and the prisoner—I did not anticipate that I should be called on to give evidence about it, and my attention was not specially directed to it—I have given you, to the best of my recollection, what took place two months ago—I should have made a note of the communication if I had had sole charge of the case—the prisoner said Hurst was, or used to be, a solicitor's clerk and that he was out of employment—he said, 'I never had occasion to ask him for his address, but I believe he lives somewhere in the neighbourhood of Hoxton"—when asked the names and addresses of his friends he said, "They are friends of mine and have gone into the country"; I believe he mentioned Manchester—I don't think he said a good many other things which I do not remember—I was only present at one interview; I believe Hosking had several, but I don't know it as a fact—he may have seen the prisoner more than twice—I have heard that the coat, tow, and drawer were given back to the prisoner by the police; I think they remained in his possession one day; I was not present.
WILLIAM PERRIN (Sergeant, 51 City). On the night of 9th October I went to 12, Walbrook, and to the private office on the second floor, where I took possession of this coat, this tow, and some fluid in a basin—I took them to the Cloak Lane Police-station the same night, about a quarter to eleven—I left the drawer behind me—I put the fluid into bottles in Hosking's presence—he sealed them in my presence—they were kept at the Police-station—Emery was present part of the time at the station, I cannot say the whole time.
Cross-examined. I did not see the bottles from the time the fluid was poured in till they were produced at the Mansion House—in the interval
they were kept in a store-room at the station—the inspector at the station has access to that store-room; others may have access, the key is left in the office, but they cannot go there without the permission of the inspector; if a man were sent for anything he would fetch it out—the bottles were unsealed at the inquest, and not re-sealed—between the inquest on 15th October and the hearing before the Magistrate on 3rd November they were in Hosking's charge—so far as I know they were in the store-room—that is not open to every constable, sergeant, or inspector—I took the coat and tow away—the drawer was pulled out about two-thirds when I went into the room—I took the tow out of the drawer and took it away in brown paper—I did not do that when I first went; I received instructions from Husking to go back for it—I did not notice how the drawer was then—several persons had been there—when I took the tow away the firemen had left the place.
Re-examined. It was about a quarter to eleven that I took the tow away—I was only there a minute or two—there was a very strong smell of paraffin in the drawer and on the tow.
BOVERTON REDWOOD . I am a consulting and analytical chemist, at 4, Bishopsgate Street Within—I am consulted by the Government on questions of petroleum, and I advise the Corporation of London in regard to the provisions and execution of the Petroleum Acts—on 29th October Hosking brought me this coat, which I examined—a great part of the back has been burnt away—from the lower edge I cut a strip of cloth about twelve by three inches, and in that I detected the presence of oil—on the coat itself I detected the odour of the ordinary commercial petroleum; frequently called paraffin oil—Hosking also handed me at the same time some tow and two bottles of liquid, which I examined—the bottles were not sealed. (MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the witness giving evidence as to the low and the liquid in the bottles, as there was no identification of those handed to the witness with those found at the prisoner's premises. MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS upheld the objection)—I analysed the contents of one of the bottles with certain results, and I reported upon it—the coat is of woollen material, and does not burn freely unless prepared in some away—a space of about 1 ft. 9 by 1 ft. was burnt away. (MR. MATHEWS proceeded to ask the witness as to what in his opinion had been done to the coat. MR. GEOGHEGAN objected to the question. MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS ruled that it was an inference for the JURY to draw from the circumstances, as the witness could only express his opinion, and could not state as a matter of fact what had been done.)—I did not test any portion of the coat on which there was no oil.
Saturday, December 15th, 1894.
PHILIP JOSEPH HESLOP . I am clerk to Sidney Frederick Langham, the City Coroner—on 15th October I was present at a fire inquest held with relation to a fire at 12, Walbrook—Mr. Langham, in my presence, took notes of the evidence—the prisoner was called as a witness and sworn, and he gave evidence, and in my presence he signed Mr. Langham's notes of his evidence—this is his original deposition—he was the first witness.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had no legal assistance—I think Mr. Langham is holding an inquest at St. Bartholomew's now—I sat under him on 15th October—I cannot say that this deposition contains everything
said by the prisoner, nor that the Jury did not ask a great many more questions, and receive a great many more answers than appear on this paper, nor that the prisoner said a great deal more.
Re-examined. The Coroner read it to him, and I asked him to sign it, and handed it to him—I do not remember all he read—I did not hear the Coroner ask, "Did you burn any paraffin?" nor the prisoner answer, "No, but we used a little for the machine occasionally"—newspaper reporters were there—I am not prepared to say whether he did or did not say that.
GEORGE JOHN NORTH . I am inspector and agent to the Norwich Union Fire Insurance Society—this policy was issued by them to the prisoner, dated 25th January, 1886, for the insurance of office furniture, iron safe, books and papers, stock and utensils, hand paper-cutting machine, and rent, amounting in all to £550, the contents of an office at 3, Bucklersbury—by a memorandum at the foot of the policy the property insured was removed to 12, Walbrook on January 19th, 1893—the yearly premium was 13s. 9d.—the prisoner was an agent for our office—on October 10th this year I went to 12, Walbrook, to look over the premises—I saw the prisoner—he told me we knew about it as soon as he did, and he asked me how we knew about it—I said we had received information from the Salvage Corps—he said he might possibly have to make a small claim on account of the rug and the linoleum that were damaged; it would only be a few shillings—he has in fact made no claim—I know his signature; this signature to this agreement for rent is his.
WILLIAM HENRY ARNOLD . I am manager to Henley Grossmith, at Finsbury Circus, and collect rents for him—I have called on the prisoner at 12, Walbrook, to collect rent—I called and saw him two or three times, I think, with reference to the midsummer rent—I did not say much; he knew what I called for, and perhaps he said he was not ready for me; I could not speak to his words—I did not get any money from him—he said he would send round, or words to that effect—he sent round £10 to the office for the midsummer rent; I did not see it paid—about a month after the Michaelmas rent became due I saw him; I did not get it—since then the brokers have been put in.
Cross-examined. During the time he was the tenant of those chambers that was the only time the brokers were put in, and that was after the prisoner's arrest.
THOMAS DONALD . I am an estate agent, of 2, Hampton Road, Forest Gate—the prisoner took 36, Durham Road, Manor Park, from me about 26th December, 1887—very probably there was an agreement in writing—I collected the rent, which was £24 a year, payable quarterly—he was always long in paying—the midsummer's rent was paid on 1st October, through the brokers—on my instructions proceedings were taken in relation to it—the Michaelmas rent has not been paid.
Cross-examined. At the time of the prisoner's arrest he owed me £6.
JAMES BATCHELOR . I am a baker, of 16, Whitepost Lane, Manor Park—I supplied the prisoner with bread from January, 1893 to 17th November, 1894—he paid me weekly from January to June, 1893, and then he got behind, and he owes me now £5 0s. 5d.—I have not applied
to him for payment, nor seen him with reference to it—I have supplied his family with bread since August, for payment on delivery.
EDWARD HENRY CROSS . I am manager of the boot department of the New Civil Service Stores, Queen Victoria Street—I was formerly an auditor of the Fourth Stratford Rock Building Society—I am now the secretary—the prisoner was the secretary of that society—he received all moneys on behalf of it—he was guaranteed—he tendered his resignation on October 12th, by letter, but the members would not accept it—my knowledge of the accounts of the society is derived from an examination of the books, which would include the books kept by the prisoner—they are not here. (MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS ruled that the witness could not be asked what moneys the prisoner had collected and not paid over, as the witness could not know it of his own knowledge.)
CHARLES HARRY FREEMAN . I am a clerk in the office of the Provident Clerks' and General Guarantee Association, Limited, of 61, Coleman Street—on 23rd October this year I saw the prisoner at his office, and requested him to call at our office the same day—he came, and we asked him if he had anything to say in reference to the sum of £75, which it was stated he was deficient in his accounts with the building society—he said he would admit nothing until he had had an opportunity of examining his books—we said he should have that opportunity—afterwards we had some correspondence with the society, and then on 26th October I saw the prisoner again at our office—he said he had found papers that satisfied him that he had received the money, and there would be no need for him to go to Stratford and examine the books—he was guaranteed in our society—we told him at the first interview that we were liable for him under the policy for £100—the building society claimed on us in writing, and we have paid £100—the policy has been lost.
SIDNEY FREDERICK LANGHAM . I am one of the Coroners for the City—under the Act of 1888 I held a fire inquest on October 15th—the prisoner was called as a witness, and sworn—I took down his evidence, and read it over to him, and he signed it—this is my note of his evidence. (The prisoner's deposition was read as follows:—"I carry on the business of a law and general stationer at 12, Walbrook, City, the whole of the second floor, four rooms in all. I have carried on business there since Christmas, 1893. It is a fairly extensive business. I was on the premises on Tuesday last, about a quarter to ten. I left altogether at twenty to eight at night. I have about seven clerks, including one boy and my son. My manager, Mr. Barnes, left just before me. I locked up, and took the keys. Everything was straight when I left, no smell of tire. I did not burn paraffin. As far as I know I did not have any oil on the premises. There was no tow on the premises. I do not know of tow saturated with paraffin oil in one of the drawers. If there was, it was unknown to me. There was no can of oil, to my knowledge. I was on good terms with all the persons in my employ. I learnt of the fire when I got home after twelve o'clock, and my wife informed me of it. I could not get up; it was too late. I came to the premises on the following morning about ten o'clock. I saw a gentleman representing the Salvage Corps. He asked me if I knew of any tow saturated with petroleum. I said, 'No.' The fire appeared to have originated in a drawer in my private room in the front. The drawers were quite open; they are never locked. I had not
been to the drawers that day. My stock consists of different-sized cut cords, silks, China silks, and paper. There were some account-books, and the total of the stationery was worth about £50. Taking the stock altogather in both rooms, it would be worth about £100. This is the usual average of the stock. I was insured in the Norwich Union for £550, under policy dated the 25th January, 1886. Stock transferred from 3, Bucklersbury to 12, Walbrook, on 19th January, 1893. There are two piles of waste-paper in the adjoining room, which is otherwise unoccupied. It may have been there a month. I was not in difficulties. By the JURY: The paper is put there until we can get it away. Some of the waste-paper buyers come round and buy it up. My stock at the time I took out the policy was much larger than it is now. By the CORONER: I have not made any claim in respect of this fire. I was not alone when I left the premises. I left with Mr. Hurst, who used to be a lawyer's clerk, now out of business, who is one of my customers, on the night of the fire. When I left the office, there was my coat in my own office; it was on the chair. Mr. Hurst came in with a cigar; he had been with me about three quarters of an hour outside. The partition between the two rooms is only match boarding. My drawers go right flat against the partition. I cannot account for the paper being swept up against the drawer where the paraffin was, in the empty room. There were some shavings piled up in the empty room. I cannot tell how long they were there—T. M. CATTERMOUL.")
Cross-examined. I believe the prisoner was not legally represented—I called him as a witness—I asked him questions such as I thought would throw light on the matter—I believe I took down in writing substantially everything he said—most likely newspaper reporters were present—I think very possibly the prisoner may have said that he had tried to get the waste-paper taken away, but that the buyers did not call for it—I don't remember his saying he did not burn any paraffin, but that they used a little for the machine occasionally—no mention was made about the machine—I have no recollection of whether the shavings he spoke of were the trimmings of paper cut off by the machine—I have no reason for remembering all the minute particulars of the evidence—I made reports in writing to the Lord Mayor and Home Secretary—I had no intimation before I swore the prisoner that any charge was to be preferred against him—I have a short general report from my officer of what the nature of the inquiry will be; but I have no statement of what the witnesses will say—I have to fish it all out as best I can—I had no information about Hurst smoking a cigar; the question suggested itself to me—my officer is not a police constable.
Cross-examined. I made my first inquiry on October 24th, at Peckham—I have been to Hoxton several times—no placards were issued offering a reward, and no advertisements put in the daily papers that he would hear of something to his advantage.
SYDNEY HOBSON (City Police Officer). On November 2nd I received a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and on that day I arrested him at 12, Walbrook—I said, "Mr. Cattermoul, I am a police officer, and I am going to arrest you on a charge of wilfully setting fire to things in your office
on October 9th"—he said, "I never expected this; I thought it had all blown over, especially after yesterday"—I began to read the warrant to him, and, when I had got half-way through it, he said, "When is that dated?"—I said, "To-day"—I finished reading it and he said, "I never expected this, or I would have prepared for it"—I then conveyed him to Cloak Lane Police-station, and in answer to the charge he said, "I never expected this"—I searched and found on him twopence halfpenny, a cheque-book on the Birkbeck Bank with three cheques deficient, a cheque on Glyn Mills, a metal watch, fourteen keys, a champagne opener, a pocket-knife, a pair of gloves, an expired season ticket, a little pocket book with some memos, a pawn-ticket for an albert chain, a memorandum, and this letter from Mr. Taylor. (This requested the prisoner to send as soon as possible the books, receipts, keys, and other articles belonging to the Fourth Stratford Rock Building Society)—I was present in the store-room at the Police-station when Hosking took out a square-shaped box or drawer, wrapped in brown paper, and a brown paper parcel, on 29th October, and took them away in a cab—the store-room was kept locked—on 31st October I went and fetched those things from Professor Redwood, at 4, Bishopsgate Street, took them to Cloak Lane Police-station, and saw them put in the store-room—when I brought them from Professor Redwood's, I examined them, and tied them up, and they were put in the store-room as I brought them back—they were some tow, a coat, and a drawer, and two bottles of liquid of some sort—I next saw them on 1st November—afterwards I saw them produced before the Alderman—this is the coat, this the drawer, and this tow is similar to the stuff I saw.
Cross-examined. On 1st November those things were given up to the prisoners son—I have heard that they were given up to the police again on the same night—Hosking had charge of this case from the very beginning, and he was making inquiry—these things were taken to Professor Redwood on 27th October, and he was out of town, and they were taken again on 29th—I believe from 9th to 27th they remained at the station without further steps being taken—I was not in charge of them, and don't know what was done with them.
Re-examined. Hosking was alive and present at the first hearing before the Alderman—there was no warrant for the prisoner's arrest till 2nd November—at the second hearing Hosking was too ill to attend.
By the COURT. Hosking lived at Cloak Lane Station—he was not able to leave his bed from the time he was taken ill.
BOVERTON REDWOOD (Re-examined). On October 29th this drawer was brought to me—I cut away from the bottom of the drawer some wood shavings, which I subjected to a test, and I obtained from them oil—the quantity was too small to produce—the drawer smelt and smells of paraffin oil—the oil I found in my analysis of the strip of cloth cut from the coat, and that I found on analysing the shavings of the drawer, belong to the same class of oil—the tow I examined smelt strongly of ordinary commercial petroleum—I extracted from it this one cubic centimetre of pale yellow oil, which I found to be petroleum—I examined the water in the two bottles; on the surface of that water was a distinct layer of oil—upon separating a portion of it I arrived at the conclusion that it was oil of a similar character to that which I had extracted from the tow.
Cross-examined. Petroleum easily diffuses itself—one drop on a coat sleeve would spread very soon into the surrounding tissue—an ordinary drop would scarcely spread over a space as large as a half-crown, in my opinion.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, December 14th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GILL and MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
FRANK WILLIAM AVANT . I am a furniture dealer, of 232, Tottenham I Court Road—I supplied the furniture for the prisoner's office, 44, Regent Street, in April this year—it amounted to £50—he gave me £12 10s. on account, and two bills of his own for the balance—the first became due in the middle of July, and was not paid—on July 16th he called on me and said, "I have got the brokers in possession, and hold a bill from Mrs. Gertrude Anderson for £100; she has accepted it, to help me out of this difficulty"—he produced it; this is it—I said, "We must make inquiries," and he left it with me—he said, "Mrs. Anderson is a lady of good position, and plenty of money; I have known her a great number of years, and have had money transactions with her to a considerable amount"—I understood that they played together at the tables at Monte Carlo—I made inquiries at the bank, which were very satisfactory, and then sent the bill to the bank at which it would have to be presented when due, the London Joint Stock, in Victoria Street, to verify the signature, and we were informed that it was all right—on July 19th the prisoner called by appointment; we discounted the bill that day, and applied £55 to paying out the distress and the rest to paying ourselves, our own debt and £5 money lent; that left a balance of £10 still owing to us, for which he gave us a bill—we were asking him in September for repayment of that balance—the first bill, the £100 bill, was duly paid—the prisoner came about September 17th, and we required a settlement of the £10 balance—his bill was due on September 2nd—he said he had come into £30,000, a legacy left him by a relative at Genoa, and it was necessary that he should go out there, and he had not the money—I refused to advance it, then he presented a second bill (produced) accepted by Mrs. Anderson, for £125, dated September 14th, at one month—he wrote a letter in my presence, dated September 18th, and gave it me with the bill which he wanted me to discount—I required some evidence that he really had the money coming to him at Genoa; he produced a letter in French, bearing out his story, which my clerk read—he wrote this document at my request: "44, Regent Street, September 18th.—Gentlemen,—In consideration of your advancing me on loan the sum of £45 8s., I agree to hand you an acceptance of Mrs. Gertrude Anderson, value £125, the same not to be discounted unless I fail to return you £50 by the 27th instant, in which went you are at liberty to discount it. You will kindly hold the bill
until the £15 I owe you on my acceptance, and £15 commission on this transaction, total £75, be returned by me to you—J. DE PUCHALSKY. "I advanced him £45, and retained the bill—I did not verify the signature of that—he was arrested before the due date.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not mention any hour at which Mrs. Anderson could be seen—you came back after twelve, and I said it was all right, and handed you the cheque.
WILLIAM HERBERT HAYWARD . I am one of the firm of Henry Lewis, jewellers, of New Bond Street—I knew the prisoner by sight in years gone by—I have seen him in the shop with Mrs. Anderson—they have both been customers—the prisoner had, I believe, been there to buy jewellery on credit before August, 1894, but we did not let him have it—on August 8th this year he wanted to buy a diamond ring, price £75, and offered me as security a bill for £150, purporting to be accepted by Mrs. Anderson, and mentioned Harris and Cheetham, solicitors, as a reference—I knew that Mrs. Anderson was a lady of means—we parted with the ring on August 15th, and retained the bill. (Dated July 26th, at three months, for £150, payable at the London Joint Stock Bank, Victoria Street,)—I next saw him at Bow Street—I wrote this letter to him on October 22nd, a few days before the bill was due, to 36, Bedford Row. (This stated that the bill would fall due on Saturday, and asking whether the prisoner would prefer it being presented, or whether he would settle it,)—I got no answer to that; it was presented, and returned as a forgery.
Cross-examined. Rings value £75 to £150 were placed before you; I cannot say that you took the cheapest—I thought I knew Mrs. Anderson's signature.
HENRY CHARLES PEARCH . I am managing clerk to Harris and Cheetham, solicitors, 35, Finsbury Circus—they acted for the prisoner, both before and after Mr. Holt acted for him—at the beginning of August he handed me this bill of 26th July, 1894, accepted by Mrs. Anderson—he owed Messrs. Harris and Cheetham about £150 for loans—I had it three weeks—it was first sent to a money-lender—Mr. Watling, a client of ours, discounted it for £65—it was afterwards returned as a forgery.
Cross-examined. It was sent to Mr. Brown, a money-lender—you had several other sums before I gave you the £65—£130 was received on account of the bill.
FRANK ALFRED PESKOTT . I am a clerk in the London Joint Stock Bank, Victoria Street—Mrs. Anderson keeps an account there, but her principal account is kept at our head office at Lothbury—on September 7th the first of these bills for £100 was presented to us, and believing the signature was correct, we paid it—on October 29th two bills for £150 each were presented for payment, but in consequence of information we had received, they were returned—they were endorsed by the drawer, and I endorsed both: "This acceptance is a forgery"—I have been at that bank about eight years—Mrs. Anderson has had an account there three or four years—I never knew her have a bill of exchange drawn—this amount having been paid, her account became overdrawn on September 19th—this is a bundle of her cheques which have all been paid by us—her signature does not vary very much.
Sons, solicitors, of 19, Ludgate Hill—on July 12th, 1893, Mrs. Anderson consulted me in reference to the prisoner's conduct towards her, and on July 15th I wrote a letter to him. (The prisoner did not product the letter and a copy was read; this cautioned the prisoner that if he in any way molested, spoke to, or wrote to Mrs. Anderson, proceedings would immediately be taken before a police Magistrate)—I followed that up by this letter of July 17th. (This stated that the prisoner's letter was unsatisfactory, but if he would communicate through a solicitor the form of Declaration he required, Mrs. Anderson would make it, as far as she could, consistently with truth; and repeating the caution not to communicate with her personally,)—at our first interview Mrs. Anderson placed in my possession a document which he had signed on 13th July, in which he undertakes to cease molesting her, and she sent me in July a large number of letters from the prisoner—here is one of August 19th, 1893. (From the prisoner to Mrs. Anderson, dated from the Charing Cross Post Office, asking her to return him £1,000 which he said he had deposited with her, and of which he said she admitted the receipt on July 15th, 1890, as he had promised to transfer the debt on the following Tuesday to a man of whom he had borrowed money; if not, the man would commence an action against her for the £ 1,000 and costs.)—on September 2nd I wrote to the prisoner, or to Mr. Holt, his solicitor, and told him that the document was a fabrication, and on November 11th I received this writ claiming £1,000—this is the document on which the action was brought:—"Harrogate, July 15th. I promise most solemnly to be true, and whatever will happen, to stick to Ivan de Puchalsky. If I should ever deceive him or separate from him, I hereby authorise him to act with me in any way he likes, and I will never have any right to reproach him. Besides, in case of our separation or after the expiration of twelve months, I promise to give him back at any time he likes the sum of £1,000 sterling, which he has deposited with me." That purports to be signed by Mrs. Anderson—an application was made by the plaintiff under Clause 14, and this affidavit was filed. (In this Mrs. Anderson swore that she had never received the £1,000 from the prisoner or any other sum, and that she was informed that Mr. Lindon, to whom the prisoner stated he had transferred the debt for £920, had offered to sell his interest in it for £135, the sum he alleged that he had actually paid the prisoner; and further that he had endeavoured to induce her to sign a declaration as to his whereabouts on certain dates, and state that she paid him £80 in order to prove an alibi in a charge made against him in Vienna, of which he was convicted and underwent eighteen months' the imprisonment, and she refused to do so)—we got leave to defend; we applied for security for costs, and the order was made—no security was forth coming, and the action dropped—Mr. Holt did not act as his solicitor on that occasion; Harris and Cheetham did, but afterwards Mr. Holt called, and after they had dropped the matter the prisoner himself started this action for £980—document No. 8 is in the prisoner's writing, all except the date and the signature, "Gertrude Anderson," which Mrs. Anderson repudiated—while the action was going on Mrs. Anderson was h alone, till June this year, and in July she came and handed me letters rich she had received from the prisoner, and others by post as she received them—I informed the prisoner that I had received them, and
Mr. Holt called on me—the prisoner called several times at my office during July, but I declined to see him while the correspondence was going on—the matter culminated by this bill for £100 being presented at the bank, upon which I applied, with Mrs. Anderson, for a warrant for his arrest—it was obtained on the 28th and executed on November 1st—while the warrant was out Mrs. Anderson sent me by post this last letter, in which the prisoner states what the consequences will be to her if she goes on.
Cross-examined. You wrote to me, wanting to have an interview with Mrs. Anderson.
Re-examined. One of the letters begins, "Please give me a letter, authorising me to see Wontner"—it is dated, in pencil, July 17th; that was this year.
ABEL SIMMER . I am the owner of Grosvenor Mansions—Mrs. Anderson has a flat there—it came to my knowledge that the prisoner was trying to get into her place, and I gave instructions that he was not to be admitted, and that if he came he was to be locked up—we have two hallporters and a boy—I saw him once trying to get in, and the hall-porter brought him down—the lift-boy, Pascoe, left me on July 12th; he was not very satisfactory, and I told him to find something to better himself—he went into the prisoner's service and I gave him a character, but not to the prisoner—I did not see him in the prisoner's employment, I only heard that he went there.
GERTRUDE ANDERSON . I live at Grosvenor Mansions, Victoria Street, and am the widow of Arthur Anderson, who died this year—we made the prisoner's acquaintance at Mentone some years ago, and remained on terms of great friendship till he went abroad in, I think, November, 1890—while he was out of England information with regard to him reached us—he wrote to me from Breslau in 1892, and early in 1893 he tried to speak to me in London in the street, and in different places, but I declined to have any conversation with him—I saw him very often when I went out—he wrote letters to me, and I had one from Paris—he came up to me in the street when I was with Mr. Clark, and offered to cease annoying me if I would allow him to speak to me—this (produced) is a document promising to abstain from molesting me if I would hear what he had to say—he continued writing letters, and I consulted Mr. Blanchard Wontner, and from that time I have acted under his advice—he wrote me three or four letters in one day, which I handed to Mr. Wontner—I have had no interview with him since June 13th—he tried to speak to me in the street about a year ago, but not since—I took steps to prevent his coming into the building where my flat is—towards the end of the year I received a letter from him in which he said that I owed him £1,000; that was the first intimation I had of it; I handed it to Mr. Wontner—I afterwards Heard that an action was being brought on some document which I was supposed to have signed—none of this document is in my writing—there is not the slightest pretence that he ever deposited £1,000 with me; it is an absolute falsehood—I have my principal account at the Lothbury office of the London Joint Stock Bank, and I had about £4,000 there in July this year—after my husband's death I received a letter from the prisoner, saying that in doing what he had done he had been instigated
by other people—I also kept a small account at the bank in Victoria Street—I have never signed a bill in my life; I never even saw one till I saw these four bills with my name written across, and I never signed them—the first bill being paid at the bank my account became overdrawn immediately afterwards, and a warrant was applied for, and this prosecution commenced—I then received a letter from the prisoner saying what was to happen to me if I went on with the prosecution—all these letters (produced) are in the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. I have known you a long time—I did not cry when you left London in 1890, and refuse to take your hand when you returned—when you did not see me you wrote to me up to 1890—I wrote letters to you sometimes, and sometimes I signed them "D"—you never pot any document before me to sign—I was at Harrogate in 1890—I do not I remember our having an altercation there when we were going to the theatre, or you saying you could not stop any longer in England, because you had very little money left—I did not ask you not to go to Russia—I do not remember drinking brandy in the sitting-room at Harrogate—I may have had brandy and soda-water—I did not dictate to you this document, No. 8, and write the date myself, and sign my name—Mr. Clark did not sign the document—he is a friend—you did not receive £80 from me in 1890—I had no debts—I received a letter from your Advocate in Vienna, which I did not answer—I then received two very polite letters from you—I declined to answer them for reasons of my own—I sent Mr. Wontner every letter you wrote, but not my letters—you did not bring me any letters written by me to you—I never went to your office—I did not ruin men at an hotel, nor was I kept by other men—I never threatened to send you to prison—I did not instruct my solicitor to take the first opportunity of sending you to prison—I did not run away when you came to London in 1893—I never went to Paris under the name of Madam Eugene—you have often tried to speak to me in St. James's Street—I did not say I would give you in charge—I afterwards went to Bognor—I don't know that you went after me—you met me, and followed me, and insulted me—I never sent you a telegram to the Hotel Metropole, saying that I desired to see you—I did not promise to meet you at the Army and Navy Stores, but you met me by accident because I happened to be there—I believe I wrote the body of this document (produced) before, probably to settle the matter, as you had been endeavouring to get an interview with me—I had it in my pocket when I met you, and Mr. Clark was with me, and he witnessed it—you asked me to make an affidavit in your favour; I referred it to Mr. Wontner, and, under his advice, I refused to sign it—I wrote you a number of letters; all these (produced) are in my writing, except three. (Four of the witness's letters to the prisoner were read at his request, in which she expostulated with him as to the way in which he spent his money, and enclosed a draft, which he had sent her to take care of.)—the draft was for £100, which he had left with me to take care of.
B. A. WONTNER (Re-examined). I wrote the prisoner two letters with regard to the declaration he wanted made; these are copies of them. (The first was dated July 28th, 1893, and stated that Mrs. Anderson was prepared to make an affidavit that she saw the prisoner frequently at Mentone in January
and March, 1890, and in July, September, and October, 1890, at Mentone, and suggested that the landlady at Marlow and the hotel-keeper at Mentone could give better information, and that every search had been made, and no trace could be found of the £80 he referred to. The second letter stated that Mrs. Anderson declined to have a personal interview with the prisoner, who, if lie had anything to say, must communicate with the writer.)—we sent to the bank, and they could find no trace of the £80—some considerable time afterwards Mr. Holt sent me a draft declaration—Mrs. Anderson said that she could not make it, and we told the prisoner so. (This proposed declaration stated that Mrs. Anderson met the prisoner at Mentone in 1885, and that he afterwards visited her and her husband at their house in London, and became a close friend; that they were again at Mentone in 1890, and that the prisoner was their guest during January and die first half of February, and was at the Hotel Metropole after that till she left in March, and that he was never in London during that time; it denied that lie was in London or Koln or Konigsberg at certain dates, as she saw him everyday, and that on November 15th, 1890, she attended at her bankers, the Imperial Bank, Wigmore Street, and handed the prisoner eight £10 Bank of England notes, Nos. 48763 to 48770)—that was not true, and therefore she refused to sign it, she was extremely anxious to make any affidavit for him that he wished.
THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I am an expert in handwriting, of Holborn Viaduct, and have been employed by the authorities of Scotland Yard and the Treasury—Messrs. Wontner showed me the signatures on these four bills of exchange, purporting to be signed by Mrs. Anderson, and supplied me with a large number of her cheques, and my opinion is that the signatures to the bills are not her writing—I have seen the prisoner's admitted writing, and believe them to be his—it is an exceedingly good imitation of her writing; one is so good that it deceived the clerk—it could not be detected without careful examination—they are not tracings.
Cross-examined. I had twenty of Mrs. Anderson's cheques before me—I made tracings of every one, and found them wonderfully uniform, both as regards the style of the "G" and the slope of the writing—I next tested the five disputed signatures by comparing them with the admitted signatures—the first difference was in the style of the "G"—many of the admitted "G's" are only half the size of the "G "on the bill; and the smallness of the "G" in the admitted signatures also applies to two signatures written in the witness-box (At the Police-court) on this piece of paper—the next point is the slope of the writing—on an envelope addressed by you I find the words "Gertrude Anderson"; I made a tracing of them, and applied it to one of the admitted signatures, and when I got the "G" to correspond with the "G" underneath, the rest of the writing runs out of the line and every signature showed that the slope was not the natural slope—I next placed the tracings over the disputed signature, four on the bills and one on the document, and then I found that the slope of the writing corresponded—in all the admitted signatures the "s" in "Anderson" is much more sloping than in the alleged forgeries, and the loop at the bottom of the "s" in the admitted signatures is a plain loop, but in the alleged forgeries it is made like an abbreviated "and" with a double loop. (Pointing out other discrepancies)—it is quite possible that I have made
mistakes—I have compared all these signatures, and come to the conclution that you made the forgeries—I am paid; I devote my life to this.
By the COURT. I have applied the same test to the signature to the covenant from Harrogate, and I say that whoever wrote that wrote the signature to the bills—I have had a good many cases where a forged signature has been passed by a bank cashier.
JAMES MOORE (Detective Sergeant V). On September 28th I received from Bow Street Police-court a warrant for the prisoner's arrest, and endeavoured to execute it, but could not find him till November 1st, when he was in custody at Tottenham Court Road Station—I read the warrant to him charging him with forgery—he said, "Who took the warrant out?"—I said, "Mrs. Anderson"—he said, "It is simply idiotic of Mrs. Anderson to say that the signatures to the bills are not hers, I simply say they are; I have an action now pending against her for £1,000."
Cross-examined. I got your letters and papers and took great care of them—you were represented by a solicitor—I kept them; I did not abstract any of them—I was present when Mr. Wontner examined them.
WILLIAM MCDONALD (Detective V). I was with Sergeant Moore when the prisoner was arrested—I searched 36, Bedford Place and found a letter from Messrs. Lewis, of Bond Street, and this bill of costs from Mr. Holt.
Witnesses for the Defence.
IDINA DOGNINI . I am an Italian waiter—the prisoner lived with me several months, and left about the end of August—I have been to his office, 44, Regent Street—he owed me some money, and I called there for it—I knocked at the private door; he answered it, and told me to call back in a quarter of an hour—I saw a lady in black sitting in tin; office, but I cannot recognise her—her back was turned towards me, and the door was not open about twenty seconds.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am in Mr. Avant's employ—I went with the prisoner to pay some money—he did not tell me the house where I could find Mrs. Anderson; he did not wish to take me there—we did not go together to an hotel, nor did he say "You will find Mrs. Anderson, now"—he suggested my going to her one evening, but it was too late; it was eight p.m.
HENRY HOLT . I am a solicitor, of 66, Gray's Inn Square—I refused to bring an action on the prisoner's behalf against Mrs. Anderson—he asked me on many occasions to make an affidavit for him, and I refused—Messrs. Wontner wrote to me and said that the draft was incorrect, and Mrs. Anderson could not do it, but there was considerable delay before that—there was a suggestion that an action should be brought against her, I but when I read the document from Harrogate I refused until the statements of my client had been verified, and one of his statements was about a sum of £80 which he said she had drawn from her bank and handed to him, and when he got to Vienna those notes were in his possession, and it was important to prove he received them from her—I made inquiry at the bankers, and I can produce their answer—he gave me the numbers—there was a deposit note headed "Harrogate," which reached me through a client who I had lent money to, and when we came to discuss ti with Messrs. Wontner they asked me to produce the document—I did
so, and their clerk had a lot of genuine signatures to compare with it, afterwards I got a letter from Messrs. Wontner saying that the document was a fabrication, and I refused to have anything to do with it—the prisoner told me that Mrs. Anderson had given him a bill, and asked me if I would advance money on it—I said, "No"—it is quite likely that he showed me a copy of a bill, but I would not have anything to do with any bill of Mrs. Anderson's.
Cross-examined. After I had seen Mr. Blanchard Wontner I reported to the prisoner what he had told me.
The prisoner, in a long defence, a great deal of which teas unintelligible, attacked the reputation of Mrs. Anderson, and stated that the bills were signed by her and given to him as the price of the return of her letters to him. He was frequently reminded by the COMMON SERJEANT and by the JURY that he was injuring himself but persisted in his statements, and asserted that he was quite innocent.
GUILTY .— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, December 15th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. SELLS Prosecuted.
GUISEPPE DAL SANTO (Interpreted). I am a greengrocer, of 193, High Street, Poplar—on the morning of December 5th a man threw up the window, and came in with a little lamp alight, and began looking round the room—I heard a noise—he went towards the staircase, and I caught him—I called the landlord and his wife, and they came down—the window was closed, but not fastened, when I went to bed—I saw the prisoner open it, and come in from the yard—it is the ground floor.
The prisoner. When he caught me I said I was brought in there by a female. It is a well-known brothel. The same thing has occurred many a time.
LOUIS ROSSINI . I live at 193, High Street, Poplar, and am the proprietor—on December 4th I went to bed about 10.30, after bolting the doors—I slept upstairs with my wife—I heard my man, Dal Santo, screaming, and went down, leaving my wife in bed—the prisoner gave no reason for being there—he did not say that my wife had brought him into the house.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You did not come in with my wife—I do not live on her prostitution.
CHARLES GRIGSBY (15 K R). I was called, and found the prisoner in the house—he was given in custody, and said, "I am drunk, and don't know anything about it, God blind me, I am not going with you," and at the station he said, "Burglary! by God!"—it is a greengrocer's shop, and I believe it to be a respectable house—it is not a brothel—our station is only five minutes' walk off, and we have had no complaints.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at the Thames Police-court on June 11th, 1894, and several other convictions were proved against him.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Monday and Tuesday, December 17th and 18th, 1894.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HEWITT Prosecuted, and MESSRS. G. A.
and W. T. BLACKWELL Defended.
CARLOS WEINER . I am a commission merchant, of 4, Fenchurch Street, City—my business is principally with clients in Mexico—some time back I had sent to me from Mexico a collection of ancient robes and vestments, which had been collected from many quarters, to sell in London—it was a very valuable collection—in April this year the prisoner was introduced to me as a person likely to find a customer for these things—I saw him—he was to try to obtain a customer. (MR. BLACKWELL interposed with an objection, that as the arrangement was ultimately reduced into writing, and formed the subject of a contract between the prosecutor and prisoner, no verbal evidence on—the subject was admissible; that the contract was binding, and it was not permissible to go behind it. MR. MATHEWS submitted that evidence of conversation might be given to show the true significance of the matter. THE COMMON SERJEANT considered that could not be done, unless there was ambiguity in the contract, and that must first be produced)—the prisoner brought some people to view the vestments; they were on view at the office—at his suggestion photographs of them were taken—this book (produced) contains a collection of them, forty-four in number, each with a number attached—in August I sold the prisoner some remnants for £5—that was a separate business altogether—on 18th September he called on me—it was arranged on that day that I should communicate with my clients in Mexico—I cabled to them, and on 20th I was authorised by cable to close with an offer of £400—on that day I wrote this letter to the prisoner: "Dear Sir,—We beg to inform you that in reply to our cablegram to Mexico we have been authorised to accept your offer of £400"—The same day we received this letter from the prisoner: "4, Crescent Street. Gentlemen,—Referring to our conversation of Tuesday, to prevent any misunderstanding, I take the liberty of reducing the arrangement into writing. I purchase the vestments for £400, payable on or before the end of October, and over and above the £400 I pay you 25 per cent, of any nett profit I obtain. This is in a few words what we arrived at, I believe. Trusting you will confirm the same, and write, I am, your truly, A. NEWNHAM"—Having received that letter, and before I had confirmed it in any way, the prisoner came and asked for certain samples to show an intended buyer the nature of the goods—I do not remember what day that was: it was some day between the 20th and the 26th, I think it was on the 23th; he gave me a receipt that day—he said, "I desire to have two or three samples to show to buyers the nature of the goods, because the photographs do not show the texture of the vestments"—I said, "Yes; you can have them"—I gave them to him, and he took them away—these are the receipts for the samples; he signed them in the office—I was not present when he brought them; I know his writing; this is his signature (Exhibit F)—it is a receipt for samples 28, 30, 25, and 22; it is dated September 25th—I now know that he pawned one of these samples with a pawnbroker in the City Road; I did
not know that till about ten days ago—I did not know of his having sold these things to Messrs. Duyeen—I had no intimation from him that he had pledged or sold the vestments—on the 26th I wrote this letter—it is a type-written letter; I signed it. (Marked "E," read, confirming the contract)—I regained possession of the vestments subsequently. (Upon MR. BLACKWELL renewing his objection, MR. MATHEWS called attention to the case of the Queen v. Abbott, Denison's Crown Cases, 273, in which it was decided by the Judges that a false pretence knowingly made to obtain money was indictable, although obtained by meant of a contract induced by fraud. THE COMMON SERJEANT felt bound by that authority to admit the evidence tendered)—Between 26th September and 6th October, to my knowledge the prisoner did not bring two of the Duveens to Fenchurch Street to see the vestments—I did not know them—he called on me on the 16th October—the vestments were in my possession at that time—he said that he had then seen Messrs. Waring, who were disposed to buy this lot, but desired to make a full inspection on their premises; that they were clearing out a room specially for the purpose of laying out the robes for inspection; that these rooms had an excellent light, which was wanting in our office, and there was room enough to exhibit them properly, and the managers and partners would inspect them—I said I had insured the goods against fire for £800 in my office, and I must either transfer the policy, or Messrs. Waring must cover the insurance and make themselves responsible—he said he would see Messrs. Waring with regard to that—he said he should require them for three days—he said it was too late to take them that day, he would fetch them the next day—on the 17th October, the next day, he did fetch them away; I was not there, but they were taken away—this document (H), of 17th October, is his receipt for the robes, signed by him—annexed to it is a complete list of the vestments—I did not myself see him between the 16th and 29th October—I then saw him at my office—he said the goods were still with Messrs. Waring—that was said when I asked him whether the business would be closed, as the 31st October was near at hand, that being the day fixed for payment—he said he had no doubt he would conclude the business with Messrs. Waring, and said, "You may be sure of your cheque on the 31st"—he said distinctly that the goods were still at Messrs. Waring's, who would be the buyers—that was the last time I saw him—I don't recollect that he stated anything as to his having been to Messrs. Waring's himself—he made no statement on that occasion as to having sold any part of the things; he said he had not closed the bargain—early in November I had to go to Antwerp, but I was back in my office by the 5th November—I did not see the prisoner on that day; I did not see him again—immediately after the 5th November I had to go to Antwerp again, and I was there when the warrant was applied for—Mr. Sutcliffe has been some years in my employment as a clerk; he was shorthand clerk, and generally attended to the correspondence—he writes Spanish, which is very useful in my business with Mexico.
By the COURT. He had not quite the authority of a general manager in my absence; if I am away he would not take my place—I have no partner—he would attend to the current business in my absence—he was not authorised to sign cheques, or anything of that kind—there is nobody
above him when I am away—there is no other clerk at present; he was my only clerk.
By MR. MATHEWS. This telegram (R) was not received by me; it was received in the office, I saw it in the morning—it is, "Cannot keep the appointment; will see you to-morrow."
Cross-examined. Mr. Sutcliffe is my clerk—I entrusted a good deal to him—I did not entrust him entirely with the management of the business; when anything is introduced it is brought to me—any conversation was between the prisoner and myself, not between myself and Sutcliffe—on 29th October, the prisoner had a conversation with me—I am the prosecutor in this case—I got these vestments from the owner from Mexico—Dr. Schmidt sent them to me—I am not aware I that according to the law of Morocco there is no private property in things of this nature—I know as a fact that they are not stolen goods—Mr. Schmidt is a highly respectable man in Mexico—my clerk, Mr. Sutcliffe, introduced the prisoner to me—there were no terms arranged, he was to find a buyer; he did not bring an order—he tried to find a buyer, but did not—he offered me £600 in the first instance—out of that £6001 think I was to have 75 per cent, for myself—I got £5 for the remnants; that was their value—I am not aware that Mr. Sutcliffe got a commission on that transaction—I was present at the Mansion House when Mr. Sutcliffe gave his evidence—I don't remember his saying there that he got a commission—I was never under the impression that the prisoner was a principal—I do not know a Mr. Tallet personally—I know of him—he is a dealer—I wrote a letter to him on 31st July, 1894; this is the letter—I had not regarded the prisoner as a principal up to that time—I don't remember writing a letter to that effect—I cabled an offer to Mexico—I was not getting commission from the other side—me arrangement with the prisoner was that I was to run the risk of getting commission out of what he made—he was to pay me £75 for £500—I wrote to the prisoner that I would place the matter in the hands of my solicitors—I dictated my letters to Sutcliffe, who type-wrote them—I did not see all the letters that Sutcliffe wrote—I first became aware that these goods had been taken away from my premises on October 17th; they had disappeared—I could not help seeing they were gone—I was informed they were gone—I never complained to the prisoner about his leaving the goods on my premises; they were not his goods, but mine—I never complained to the prisoner about people going to my premises to view those goods—I did not sell those goods out and out to the prisoner—it was not arranged that as he had not proper premises to take them to he should leave them on my premises—I never complained about his not having got rid of them—I did not see him on October 19th—he mentioned Waring's name to me, not Duveen's—I am a naturalised Englishman; I have been here on and off for over twenty-five years—Waring's place is somewhere in the same neighbourhood as Duveen's—Sutcliffe would not do anything without my special authority in my absence—I do not know that he did anything without my authority—these things were parted with with my authority—Sutcliffe reported to me, and after that I saw the prisoner—the prisoner did not say that he told Sutcliffe he was negotiating with Waring for the sale of the goods, but that the
price was too high, or that they were going to have an exhibition at Liverpool of certain goods, and were willing to take these goods and display them there, with a view to selling them—Duveen came to my place on 5th November, and after that I had a conversation with Sutcliffe, who told me that Duveen wanted to know whether the prisoner was authorised to sell a lot of goods; he did not like to deal with people who had no address—I then knew for the first time that the goods were not at the prisoner's, but at Duveen's, and I gave Sutcliffe immediate instructions to telephone to Duveen to stop the cheque—Sutcliffe told me he gave Duveen an evasive answer to the question whether the prisoner had authority to sell, as he did not know what to say in my absence—I will swear he did not say he answered "Yes"—I tried to ascertain from Duveen the number of pieces that were being sold—Sutcliffe said Duveen asked him whether it was all right, and that he answered that the prisoner had some arrangement with me, but he could not give a decided answer in my absence—Sutcliffe reported briefly to me—he told me Duveen said, "I have given him a crossed cheque," that was why we tried to stop it—he did not report that he had told Duveen it was all right.
Re-examined. Sutcliffe reported the conversation to me on 5th November, I think, about five o'clock.
By MR. BLACKWELL. The prisoner said he would pay half the cost of the photographs, £4 3s.; he paid nothing—we had the garments photographed independently of him.
By MR. MATHEWS. The effect of Sutcliffe's report was that I immediately told him to telephone and stop the cheque—the prisoner never told me that he had taken these things to Messrs. Duveen's, in Bond Street—their name was never mentioned by him as the persons who had the things in their possession—Waring was the only name he mentioned—the arrangement as to the retention of the things by me was that they should remain on my premises until either the prisoner paid for them or brought me a buyer whom I approved—that arrangement was never departed from—I never heard Tullet's name, or met him until within the last ten days, when he came to my office to offer his services as a witness—he was a friend of the prisoner.
JOSEPH VICTOR VIGNON (Interpreted). I am an artists' dealer, and live at Leyton Road, Kentish Town—in September I met the prisoner, and he told me he had some embroidery to sell—I told him that I could not do any business with him on Saturday at two o'clock, when all business shops in the West-end were closed—he asked me if I could find any money to be lent on it—I said, "Yes, you can go to a pawnshop where I sometimes put my pictures, and you can obtain money there. I will go with you"—I went with the prisoner to Mr. Walters, a pawnbroker, at 51, City Road, and in my presence the prisoner pawned the piece of embroidery and he asked £4; £2 was advanced on it—he gave me 2s. for my trouble—I cannot tell by the pattern if this is a photograph of that piece—I believe I have seen the prisoner since, but I do not remember.
Cross-examined. I have known him for some time, but only since just the beginning of this business—I saw all the vestments three times—I have been about with the prisoner endeavouring to sell them—I remember his selling a portion—I knew Sutcliffe as Mr. Weiner's servant—I saw
money pass between the prisoner and Sutcliffe several times—he gave Sutcliffe money coming from Duveen; I believe it was £10; I don't know how much, but I saw gold pieces—Sutcliffe returned him some silver pieces—the prisoner gave me 10s. on that occasion for my trouble—I had 10 per cent, on the £10—I did not see the prisoner hand Sutcliffe anything on Saturday, the day of the pawning—I heard the prisoner say he had to take a sovereign to Sutcliffe because he was in want of money—I knew Sutcliffe then—I don't recollect hearing Sutcliffe say he had not had his wages from Mr. Weiner, or anything of that sort—Sutcliffe told me the goods belonged to the prisoner; that was why I began to work for him—Sutcliffe told me that in the prisoner's presence, and when the prisoner had all the goods in his possession.
Re-examined. I cannot recollect if that conversation with Sutcliffe, when the prisoner had a number of things in his possession, was before the pawning on the Saturday, 22nd September—it must have been after it, because he wrote to me on 24th September—I cannot swear if it was before or after—I cannot tell if I saw the prisoner at all after going to the pawnbroker's—I am in great trouble; I have lost my wife, and am in distress at home, and am almost out of my mind.
WILLIAM WATSON MARTIN . I am manager to T. R. Walters and Son, pawnbrokers, of 51, City Road—Vignon is known to us as a customer—on Saturday, 22nd September, he came with the prisoner, bringing a piece of tapestry, which they offered in pledge—Vignon said it was his, speaking in English—he said he was going to sell it to the prisoner, and that the prisoner had not any money to pay, him a deposit, and that he wanted to pawn it for £2 to pay the deposit—I advanced £2 on it—this photograph, No. 40, represents the piece—this is the duplicate ticket; it was pledged in the name of Newnham, 16, Barnsbury Road, N.—it was redeemed on 5th November; we do not know by whom.
Cross-examined. I think I remember all that was said—Vignon had come to our place about some pictures we had for sale, ranging from £10 to £25—the prisoner pledged this piece; Vignon merely introduced him to us—this was about mid-day on the Saturday—we do not often have articles of this sort brought to our shop—I think if the prisoner had come alone I should have taken the piece if I was satisfied with him—if he had asked me to lend him £8 or £9 on it I should have done so; he asked £2—the object of Vignon's coming was to introduce the prisoner, and satisfy any inquiries I might have been disposed to make—Vignon said it was his—I don't remember if I was present when it was redeemed; I may have been in another part of the shop.
JOHN HALPHEIM . I am a dealer in antiquities at 164, Wardour Street—in August I saw the prisoner, but I did not buy anything from him then—early in October he brought me this vestment, which is generally called a Virgin's dress, and he sold it outright for £1—he asked a great deal more, but I did not think it was worth more than £1; he was content to take that—we sell such things for covering chairs or lining screens, or something of that kind—No. 25 is the photograph which represents it.
Cross-examined. I have been a dealer in articles of this sort for ten years—I saw all these articles in the City at the prosecutor's premises—I have seen plenty of Virgin's dresses of this sort in every Catholic country
—I have heard about the sale and the price given; I think Duveen gave a very good price—Sutcliffe was present when I examined the goods; either he or the prisoner said something to me about the ownership of the goods—I could not say if the prisoner told me, as we went out, or whether it was said in Sutcliffe's presence; but my impression is that whatever was said was said in Sutcliffe's hearing—I told Sutcliffe I had given £1 for it—I don't know if Sutcliffe said that was a fair price—I told him I had given £1 for it when I saw him here last week—I had not seen him till when since I bought it—I am positive I did not see him next day—the prisoner told me he had bought this thing—Sutcliffe did not tell me—I never saw Weiner—I went three times to his premises to see these things—Sutcliffe was there on each occasion, and we discussed the value of them—nothing was said at that time about the ownership.
Re-examined. The prisoner told me this was his property before I bought it—I thought £200 was full value for the things—I did not express that view.
ALBERT PRATT . I am manager to Waring and Sons, of 181, Oxford I Street, dealers in antiquities—some time prior to 11th October the prisoner called and showed me an album of photographs of religious vestments, and asked me to inspect the goods—I called at Fenchurch Street and looked at them—on 11th October I wrote this memorandum to the prisoner. (Stating that he should not be able to mention the matter to Mr. Waring till the next day)—the price suggested for them was £600—I had not examined them in detail to be able to form any opinion—having spoken to my principals on 12th and 13th, I wrote this memorandum to the prisoner. (Regretting that they were unable to make an offer in accordance with his suggestion, but that perhaps he would call on Monday if he were passing)—I think the suggestion was that if we would buy a portion of them, he would send the remainder on sale or return—we were unable to do that—he suggested bringing the things to Oxford Street for our inspection—I said if he brought them, I would examine them—I did not see or hear of him again after that—the things never came, and were never on our premises.
Cross-examined. From first to last he told me they were at Weiner's—the offer to bring them to us came from the prisoner—he did not say it would be necessary to pay something on account before leaving them with me—he suggested that if we bought a certain quantity, the remainder could remain for sale—£200 was named for some, I think—we did not feel inclined to entertain the offer at that price—we were going to have an exhibition at Liverpool, and were anxious to make it a success—I said we were not disposed to buy them, but, if placed in our hands, we might be able to dispose of them—I have seen these things; I say nothing about their value.
Re-examined. I think the suggestion came from the prisoner that if we liked to buy a certain portion up to £200 (I am not certain as to the amount) the remainder could be left on sale—I told him I would lay them out, and examine them in a room if he would send them.
JOSEPH DUVEEN . I am a son of the senior partner in the firm of Duveen Bros., of Old Bond Street—at the end of September I was in Paris with my father, but, on my return to London in the first week of October, in consequence of something said to me by my brother, I went to
4, Fenchurch Street, and I there examined some religious vestments and other things; the prisoner was there and showed me the things—he said he wanted £600, I think, for them—I said the price was far too high, and that it was no good making any offer at all—he came again on 16th or 17th, and asked me if we would buy the embroidery—I said, "No; the things are much too high in price. If you like to ask a much lower price we might entertain them"—he mentioned £400—I said that was still much too high—I wanted to cut them up, and use them in various ways, and not keep them as historical curiosities; we might have kept them as that for a great while—my father afterwards bought them, because my brother, who attends to the New York business, was in London, and he said, "If you can buy them very cheaply, have them"—my father arrived from Paris on Saturday, 13th, and was in town when the prisoner came on the Tuesday—the prisoner said he would bring the goods to Bond Street for my father to see—next day, 17th October, I saw the goods at our premises; that was the day they arrived—I examined them again—the prisoner was not there then—they had not then been bought, or any offer made for them, so far as I know—they remained on our premises till Monday, 5th November—I was present then, when my father bought and paid £200 for them—on 19th October we had bought six pieces for £11, and on 22nd October one piece for £1—the matter was completed on 5th November by the payment of £188 to the prisoner, by three cheques, two to order, and crossed, for £168 and £15, and one open, for £5, which we cashed for the prisoner—these are the £5 and £168 cheques on Sir Samuel Scott's Bank—payment of the £15 cheque was stopped—we tried to stop payment of the £168, but it had been cashed, and we were too late—I bought, on 26th September, one vestment for £3 (No. 22 in the photographs), which is altogether outside the £200 transaction—No. 40 was sold to us, with the others, on 5th November—it was not in the box with the others, and the prisoner said he would bring it, and we kept back the £15 cheque till he brought it.
Cross-examined. My brother Louis did not go with me to Weiner's—my brother Charles, from New York, who was in England at the time, advised the purchase—he did not go with me to see them—I did not go through and value the goods at Weiner's, because I could see the price was so absurd; at Bond Street we went through them with my father, and valued them—when I went to Weiner's Sutcliffe was there, writing at a table in one room—there were four or five rooms there, I think; I went into three—these things were in two rooms—I don't think Sutcliffe took part in the conversation—the first transaction I had with the prisoner was in August; that was for £10 10s.—I thought he was the owner of those goods—when he first came about these vestments I thought he was the owner—they were in our place from 16th, 17th, or 18th October to 5th November.
Re-examined. I only went to Fenchurch Street once; that was the first week in October, and then I saw these goods—I knew that office did not belong to the prisoner; I asked him no question about that, because I was not going to buy the things—there was another name up—my father bought them afterwards—when I saw them in October the price was so
high that I pooh-poohed it—when my father subsequently saw them I was not called on to ask any questions.
LOUIS DUVEEN . I am a brother of the last witness, and am employed by my father in Bond Street—on 26th September, when my father and brother were in Paris, the prisoner brought some pieces of embroidery to Bond Street and showed them to me, and said he had other pieces of similar character at 4, Fenchurch Street, and asked me to go and look at them—he left me an album of photographs—he arranged that I should meet him next day and go to Fenchurch Street—I did so; he then said, "I have bought them," and that they belonged to him—Sutcliffe was present, and heard that statement—I examined them piece by piece—I asked what he wanted for them, and he said £1,200—he said he had been offered £600 for them—I said they are very nice—I said, "They may be worth £600"—I said I would write to my father about the matter by that evening's post—I should not have entered on such a transaction without my father's sanction—I went to see them out of curiosity—I wan in charge of the business at that time, and any small 1 matter I would transact in my father's absence—when my brother Joseph came back I spoke to him about the matter, and afterwards he spoke to my father—on 5th November I was present when my father bought the things—the prisoner was there, and my brothers Joseph and Charles—we bought them for £200, taking into account sums that had been paid before November 5th—I received a telephone message on the evening of November 5th about how many pieces we had bought—I did not hear of any message about stopping a cheque—I don't know if there was one—something was said through the telephone from the other end about "Mr. Duveen has not said the cheque was payable to-day."
Cross-examined. I saw no name up at 4, Fenchurch Street, on 27th—I understood that that office did not belong to the prisoner—Sutcliffe was present, and heard the conversation then as to the prisoner owning the goods.
JOSEPH JOEL DUVEEN . I am senior partner in the firm of Duveen Bros., 20, Old Bond Street—I first saw these things at my place—I knew nothing of the prisoner up to that time, and had had no dealings with him—I went through the goods on October 19th for the purpose of valuing them—on that day I offered the prisoner £200 for them—he refused it—after that I went to Paris—on my return I found a telegram awaiting me from New York, and in consequence of that I offered the prisoner £200 a second time, on November 5th, and he took it—the buying of goods of this sort especially depends a good deal on whether I thought I should be likely to get an early market for them—I thought these goods belonged to the prisoner when I made the offer—I did not ask—I asked my sons after I bought them, not before—I don't think I knew up to 25th October that my sons had been to 4, Fenchurch Street; I will not swear to it, I don't recollect—I don't recollect hearing that one of my sons had said they might be worth £600—my son is inexperienced—on 5th November I gave the prisoner a crossed cheque for £168 and an open cheque for £5, which I cashed myself—my eldest son gave him the cheque for £15; I was not there—on 19th October I had given the prisoner £12 for some other goods, and on 27th October £1—after I had
paid the prisoner the £168 cheque I had occasion to go to the City to see about some property I had taught—I cannot remember what time I gave the prisoner the cheque, or what time I arrived At the City; it was before the banks were closed—I went to 4, Fenchurch Street, and there had a conversation with Mr. Sutcliffe—coming back, I made no effort to stop the £168 cheque; I was quite satisfied that everything was right—I did not stop the £15 cheque; my son Joseph did so—I went to Paris the next morning, the 6th—I only heard by letter of the stopping of the £15 cheque—up to the time I purchased these things I believed they belonged to the prisoner—on 5th November I asked him, "Are these goods yours?" and he said, "Yes, I bought them"—I never heard from anyone that the goods did not belong to him—when I was doing the business with the prisoner and giving him the cheque he seemed a little timid, and I said I would go to Fenchurch Street to see if they were all right, and I asked him if they were his, and he said "Yes," and produced an invoice or letter for £400—he produced that to my clerk, for whom I sent—I thought it best to call at 4, Fenchurch Street, as I was in the City—I did not go on purpose; I went to see a surveyor about some property—I asked the prisoner where the goods came from, and he said, "Mr. Weiner's," and I went there and asked if Mr. Weiner was in, and saw Sutcliffe, and from what passed between me and him I was satisfied, and went to Paris with a peaceful mind next morning.
Cross-examined. When I asked the prisoner for his evidence of title he produced to my clerk an invoice, or some document—I did not see it; as I looked at it the prisoner pulled the corner over and said I must not see the price, or something like that—my book-keeper looked at it; I did not—the prisoner told me he bought the goods from Mr. Weiner—I am a Dutchman; I understand English very well—the whole lot were at our place—I said I should give him a crossed cheque, and he said, "You can do as you like about that"—he must have said that I could make every inquiry for the reason that I asked the question—I told Sutcliffe at 4, Fenchurch Street that I had bought some goods from the prisoner, and Sutcliffe said, "It is all right; Mr. Weiner has got some understanding with the prisoner"—I asked him," Can he (the prisoner) sell me these goods," and Sutcliffe said, "Yes"—I told Sutcliffe I had given him a crossed cheque; I don't recollect that he made any answer to that—I believe my sons afterwards did the transaction with the piece in connection with the £15 cheque—Sutcliffe said nothing about his relation to Mr. Weiner—I asked if Mr. Weiner was in, and he said, "No, he is not in, but I can do just the same."
Re-examined. I think Sutcliffe asked me how many pieces I had bought—I think I said I could not say—I don't think he said he could not tell me whether the price was a good one unless I knew how many pieces I had bought—I was in a hurry, and only wanted to know that the goods were right—nothing was said about it being wrong—I did not go straight back to Bond Street—I was not there when the telephone was going, or when the £15 cheque was stopped; I had gone home.
JOHN WILSON BELL . I am clerk to Messrs. Duveen—on the evening of November 5th, after Mr. Duveen had gone to the City, I heard the telephone ring about half-past four, and I called Louis Duveen—the prisoner was in the shop at the time, I believe—I think Louis Duveen
said through the telephone that the prisoner was there—I did not hear any message come back to stop the cheque—I left the telephone with Louis Duveen to attend to it—I went into the office below, and did not hear anything more—later in the evening Louis Duveen said the prisoner was there with the other piece of embroidery, and I believe Joseph Duveen gave him the cheque—I cannot tell who saw him return with the embroidery.
Cross-examined. I was present when the prisoner came first on November 5th at 12.30—Mr. Duveen sent for me to come upstairs at that time, and said to the prisoner, "Show Mr. Bell the letter you have shown me. I have asked him if he is the owner of the goods, and has power to sell them," and I saw a type-written letter from Weiner and Co.—the prisoner did not say he had bought the goods, but he produced the letter to me—I believe I crossed this £168 cheque with the India-rubber stamp, as I do all cheques.
ALFRED TITMUS . I am a clerk, living at, 2, Stanmore Street, Holloway—I have known the prisoner about three years—on 25th October I met him in the Caledonian Road, and he asked me if I would meet him the following day, and call for his letters—I met him next day, and he told me to call at 4, Cresham Street, for his letters, and take them to his then address, 33, St. Clement's Street—he then told me not to tell anyone where he was living—I did not tell anyone—on 5th November I went to 4, Cresham Street, at his request, to fetch his goods and take them to the booking-office at King's Cross—although he had moved from 4 Cresham Street, to 33, St. Clement's Street, he had left his things at 4 Cresham Street—the landlady refused to give them to me—I went back to him, and then he came with me to 4, Cresham Street, and got a portmanteau and trunk, which we took together to the cloak-room at the Metropolitan Station, King's Cross, and left there in the name of "Newnham"—I saw him between the 5th and 16th—he said he wished to leave the things at the cloak-room, so that no one should know where they were.
Re-examined. His new lodgings were about four minutes walk from his old ones.
Tuesday, December 18th
WILLIAM ANDREW REED . I am manager of the Tottenham Court Road and Shaftesbury Avenue branches of the London and Midland Bank—on the morning of November 6th, Marshall, whom I knew as in the employ of a club which kept its account at our bank, called at our Tottenham Court Road branch, accompanied by the prisoner, whom he introduced as Mr. Newnham—he said Mr. Newnham wished to open an account at our Shaftesbury Avenue branch—I said, "Certainly"—he paid in this cheque for £168, and another for £15,1 think; it was crossed to another bank, I think, and I could not take it—he wished to have the £168 cheque presented at once, and I immediately sent one of my clerks with it—it was on Lloyd's Bank, Hanover Square, which was formerly Sir Samuel Scott's, and that branch is not a member of the Clearing House—in the ordinary course I should have sent it to our head office next morning for them to clear—the cheque was cashed; we received the money, and opened the account at Shaftesbury Avenue—I went to that branch later the same day, I found the entry in our signature book, "November
6th, 1894. Alfred Arthur Newnham. A. A. Newnham. Private account 3, Queen's Square Place, Bloomsbury. Introduced by Mr. Marshall, of the New Waterloo Club"—on November 8th a cheque for £150 on that account was presented, payable to self or order and endorsed and was paid with a £50 note (31474, February 6th, 1894) and a £100 note (17861, March 7th, 1894).
Cross-examined. I believe the address in the signature book is in the prisoner's writing—I have only a copy of the extract from the book—sometimes the person opening the account writes his address; sometimes we do it—I do not know Marshall's writing.
HENRY HAVERS BEDINGFELD . I am a clerk in the London and County Bank, Oxford Street branch—Marshall, who had a joint account there, introduced the prisoner to me as an intending customer on 8th November—I took him to the manager, and he was permitted to open an account the same day—I produce an examined copy of the signature book, which he signed, "November 8th, Alfred Arthur Newnham. A. A. Newnham, 3, Queen's Square Place, Bloomsbury. Private"—that is all in one writing, and then the manager wrote underneath, "Out of business. Introducer, H. C. Marshall"—the account was opened on 8th November by the payment of a £50 note (31474, 6th February, 1894), and a £100 note (17861, 7th March, 1894)—on 24th November the prisoner drew a cheque on the account for £50 in the name of Barnweld, and on 26th November a cheque for £55, in the name of Bailey.
Cross-examined. He called five weeks ago last Sunday; he came at three and left at six, and that was the only time he has been in the house—he is a short acquaintance of my husband, who is not here—I also saw the prisoner once at our street door.
After MR. BLACKWELL had addressed the JURY on behalf of the prisoner, the prisoner desired to be allowed to make a statement, and upon the COMMON SERJEANT giving his consent the prisoner said that he intended to pay far the goods when he purchased them; that Sutcliffe gave him the first three or four pieces, and that the date on the receipt he gave had been put on afterwards; that the bulk of the goods he took to Duveen's with Sutcliffe's knowledge, Weiner not knowing where they were till Sutcliffe told him; that he asked Sutcliffe if they were his goods to sell; that Sutcliffe said they were his; that when he was arrested he was on his way to Fenchurch Street: that he had worked early and late to try and sell the goods and make a legitimate, profit; that fie had tried to get the most he could for the goods, but did not mean to keep the money; that he took them because lie had to meet a necessity, and was expecting a remittance from Buenos Ayres, and if he had received that he could have afforded to buy them back from Duveen at 25 per cent, premium,.
WILLIAM SUTCLIFFE (Re-examined by the COURT). I wrote the date, September 25th, on this receipt on the day I wrote the receipt—I have not altered or written anything on it since except the alteration in the
number of pieces, and that was in the prisoner's presence, and he initialled it.
GUILTY. Judgment respited to next Session (in order that the prisoner might, if he so desired, make restitution to Mr. Vahner.)
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
107. WILLIAM BELVEAR PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering a mortgate deed, in the name of Joseph Baker, with intent to defraud; also to forging and uttering the endorsement to an order for. £20, with intent to defraud; also to stealing a document of title to land, the property of Joseph Baker. Six previous convictions were proved against him, and he was now undergoing a term of three years' penal servitude in Lancashire— Three Years' Penal Servitude, to run concurrent with his former sentence.
MESSRS. GRAIN and KERSHAW Prosecuted, and MR. PICKERSGILL Defended,
GEORGE COLLINGWOOD . I am keeper of the carriage department of the Great Eastern Railway Company's works at Stratford—gold leaf is supplied to me from the general stores; it is marked there G.E.R. and the date—there is no indication of the date when I give it to the workmen, but I give out books of this description to Ferguson, the foreman of the painters; they use it for numbering the carriages—I receive a request in writing for them, and enter them in the guard—book, as I give them out—I keep them under lock and key, and we lock the place at night—this (produced) is one of our books—all I can prove is that they are the property of the company.
Cross-examined. I did not issue this one bound up with leaves of the Psalms—I received it from the stores—I requisition the stores from time to time o, I also issue to Ferguson—I take stock every six months—my stock book has been correct for the last two years.
JOSEPH FERGUSON . I am foreman of the carriage painters, Great Eastern Works, Stratford—the prisoner worked under me, and I have supervision over the gold leaf for numbering the carriages—it is the workmen's duty to come to me for gold leaf—I receive it from the storekeeper, and as I deliver it I mark it off—the prisoner has been in that department some years—they all have to sign a book of rules when they come in—they ask for a certain number of books for a certain coach, and if they do not use the whole of it, it is their duty to use it on the next work—they have a drawer with a key, into which they put the surplus quantity, and use it on the next job—they have no right to retain any gold leaf—this is my book, by which I gave out to the prisoner fifty—two books between October 22nd and November 28th, 1894—the gold leaf books are used for numbering the carriages, two for each—some workmen are more careful than others—I gave the prisoner four books on the 28th, and it was his duty to use them on two coaches, and if anything was left he would
put it in his drawer, and retain it for the next job—on 29th November, before breakfast, he was working at the top shop on a new third-class carriage, after which he went to a job which required no gold leaf—I can say that these books before me were issued from the store, but I have no check to each book—I can say that they were issued to some workmen—my colleague Wilson issues some of them; he has a key of his own drawer, and keeps some—it is his duty to place any gold leaf in the drawer if he has any left—on November 30th I found a bunch of keys, one of which was in the prisoner's drawer—I locked the drawer, and took the bunch away without looking in, and handed the keys to Campbell, knowing the prisoner was in custody.
Cross-examined. I succeeded Mr. Robinson, the prisoner's uncle, as foreman of the works about June, 1893; since then the prisoner has been working under me—he has been seventeen years in the company's service, and bears an excellent character—this gold is different to that in the other books; one is deep gold, and the other pale—I issued deep gold to the prisoner in October and November—the deep is of superior quality to the pale—I issued it for the tenders, we put "G.E.R." on them in deep gold—that was in a stamped book—it would be a safe way for him to put the gold leaf into an envelope or a book to protect it—the average of weekly issues was one book at a time from October 22nd to November 28th—the largest amount issued between those dates was ten books, but I have not the date—I have not been in the habit of dating them, but I know it was between those dates because I turned over a fresh leaf then, and entered the date—on October 22nd I issued eight books, but I did not put down the dates till this question occurred on November 27th—I did not enter it at the time; I put it down from memory—the next highest is eight on the 27th—a man named Tibley worked with the prisoner—I issued two books to him on the 29th, and on the 8th I gave four books to the prisoner for him and Tibley; they were working at a carriage between them, and he would give Tubbs what books he required—he would be able to use up eight books, working all day—a workman who has gold leaf over, takes care of it as he thinks fit; he does not return it to me—I have never had gold leaf returned when issued for carriages—we are very rarely out of gold leaf; only once this year to my knowledge—I do not know that workmen have been inconvenienced and delayed by there being no gold leaf, but I should not like to say that they have not—I am not aware that they keep a certain quantity in their lockers lockers to protect themselves from the inconvenience—they have to do repairing jobs from time to time—I should give fresh gold leaf for that if they asked for it, because I should consider that they had not got any—I do not always give out fresh gold leaf for repairing jobs; they use up the unused leaves.
Re-examined. I never knew an instance where fifteen or sixteen whole books have been retained by workmen—the prisoner was paid by piece work.
By the COURT. If a man is put on a job I estimate the amount of gold leaf which will be required; I can tell within a leaf or two, and when the next job came on I should not issue gold leaf beyond the amount required—there are twenty-five leaves in a book; 400 leaves were found—we do not cut a hard and fast line, because a man may spoil a leaf or have a
bruised leaf—I never estimate a job so closely as to estimate it at too much.
CHARLES ROBERT CAMPBELL (Inspector, G.E.R.). On November 29th I was with Eustace, a Metropolitan officer, outside the Stratford works, and followed the prisoner from the works to Arlton Street—I touched him on the shoulder, and said, "Is your name Wright?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Have you got anything about you which does not belong to you?"—he said "No"—Eustace said, "You are suspected of having some gold leaf; I am going to search you"—he said, "Take me inside"—he un-buttoned his coat, and said, "I have only one book"—Eustace took from his pocket a letter, containing one book—I said, "Where did you get this from?"—he said, "My foreman served it out to me this morning; I use it in my work"—I said, "Have you ever sold gold to Bryersand Son, Barbican?"—he said, "No; I don't know the place"—we took him indoors, and afterwards took him to the works, where he said that the book was given to him by Tibley—the clerk said, "You had no right to take it off the premises"—he said, "I put it in my coat, and took it out by mistake, I have not sold any gold since my uncle died: I used to melt it for him; I don't know where he got it"—I went to the house, and found this book of gold with the Bible leaves—I went to the works next morning, and Ferguson pointed out a drawer to me, and handed me a bunch of keys—in trying them I broke one, and the drawer had to be forced open—I found in it sixteen books of gold leaf, dated July 1893, July 4th, 1894, and September 10th, five books; and one plain one—fifteen were complete, and one had fourteen leaves in it out of the twenty-five.
Cross-examined. When I stopped the prisoner his coat was buttoned, and Eustace unbuttoned it—I think his undercoat was buttoned, but I cannot say—the overcoat was not unbuttoned, and Eustace's hand was not put into the pocket of the undercoat—the pocket also contained letters and envelopes—I examined them sufficiently to see that they did not contain anything relating to the charge; they were private letters—I do not know that they related to divorce proceedings—I know his wife has left him, and he had had much domestic trouble—the co-respondent is in the service of the Great Eastern Railway—the prisoner did not say, before the gold leaf was found, "I have one book of gold leaf; I left it in my pocket by mistake"—Eustace was in the act of feeling in his pocket; possibly it might have been a moment or two before the gold leaf was found, but practically it was simultaneous—he said that when the search had commenced—he first said that he had no gold leaf; afterwards he said he got it from the foreman, and then from his mate Tibley.
JAMES FERGUSON (Re-examined). I kept the gold leaf in a drawer in my office—by cutting the work fine you might save two or three leaves out of one book, and use them and keep the others; that would take a long time—my drawer might be got at by a master key, but I don't think so—I check my stock about once in six months, and my books have been gone through for two years, and there is no deficiency—I have checked Wilson's stock, and it is correct—this book with the Psalms, was not issued by me, but they could put a couple of leaves in it if they had them over.
Cross-examined. I searched the prisoner in the street—his coat was
buttoned when I stopped him; I unbuttoned it—his undercoat was, I believe, buttoned, and the gold leaf was in the left breast pocket—there were a number of letters in the pocket, but I could see the gold leaf, it stuck out about a quarter of an inch.
WALTER JOHN TERRISS . I am a clerk to the Great Eastern Railway—it is my duty to issue books of rules in this department—they are signed for—I issued one to the prisoner on December 10th, 1890, and he signed for it—this is a copy. (One rule provided that no material should be taken off the premises).
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Hawkins.
MESSRS. HORACE AVORY and GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
ELIZA PARFITT . I am the wife of Richard Parfitt, of 23, Stanhope Street, Clare Market—the prisoner is my youngest sister—she is twenty-three years old—she has been a general servant, but ceased to be so five or six years ago—about two or three years since she came to see her fellow servants; she occasionally visited us—I first saw her baby about three weeks before the Sunday in question—she brought it with her—I don't know how old it was then; it was in arms—I saw her on Sunday, November 11th, about half-past six in the evening—she was in the street, near our house—she had the baby with her—it seemed well—I asked her what she had been doing to herself to keep away so long—she said, "Nothing"—I asked how she was in her health—she said, "All right"—we went and had a glass of whisky in the Yacht public-house in Stanhope Street—she seemed sober—the gentleman who was supposed to be her husband came in, and she and the baby went away with him—I next saw her on Tuesday evening, November 13th, about twenty minutes to seven, in the same street, outside our door—she had not the baby with her then—I noticed that she seemed strange about her eyes—she seemed as if she was intoxicated, and yet she did not appear so—I asked her where was the baby—she said, "The landlady has got it"—I asked her whether the landlady always took her like that, free, for her—she said, "Yes"—I asked her when she was going to shorten it, to take it out of long clothes—she said, "Between this and Sunday"—she had let me know when it was born, by letter—I knew it was going on for three months old—she said two or three times that she saw my sister's boy—she said so on the second night, that she was going home with her husband and baby—it was my eldest sister's, Mary Ann Corcoran's, boy—that was on the Sunday night—she left me about a quarter to ten, as near as I could say—I asked her w hen I should see her again—she said, "To-morrow"—
I said, "Don't forget to fetch the baby with you"—she said, "Oh, yes"—Mrs. Corcoran was there at the time; she came up as we were talking in the street—she went away directly, towards the bridge.
Cross-examined. She did not say she wanted to hurry home; she did not seem to be in a hurry at all—I said she had tatter hurry home on account of the baby—we had been together from about twenty minutes to seven to a quarter to ten—we only had one drink—we were standing all the time—she appeared strange in her manner—she would not have any talk at all; she only stood still—that was why I said, "Why don't you hurry home with the baby?"—she seemed strange because she did not talk; that's all I mean—her eyes seemed to be rolling about—my sister and I made the remark that she was strange—I was with her on the Sunday from about half-past six till nine—we had some drinks—we came out of one place and went into the other—we only had two drinks; it was not whisky, it was stout—she asked me to go out and go to this place where she had the whisky—she did not then appear to be strange in her manner, only very quiet—on the Tuesday she appeared different in her manner to what she had been, and yet she was so calm, and did not want to hurry away—I had only seen the baby twice; she always appeared very fond of it; at each time I saw her it was wrapped up very warm—she had been to my place when I was in the country five weeks—it appeared to be properly fed, and looked quite well—when she spoke of seeing my sister's little boy, I asked her where she saw it—she said she saw it as she was going home on Sunday night; that did not seem strange, but she repeated it several times—it was raining all the Sunday night—she did not say it when we were talking of other things—she brought it up herself, and repeated it; I thought it strange.
Re-examined. Mrs. Corcoran was present when she said it—she did not deny it; she had seen the boy—I did not know that she had taken to drink; I had no idea of it—I never saw her the worse for drink out of doors, nor at any time—I never noticed that she smelt of drink—on the Tuesday I did not notice whether she smelt of drink; I thought she had been drinking, she talked very thick.
By the COURT. I could not tell whether she was living on good terms with her supposed husband—she never let us know much of her business.
ELIZABETH BROWN . I am the wife of John Brown, of 65, Kennington Road—the prisoner occupied two rooms on the first floor of my house since August, 1893, in the name of Mrs. Williams—she took the rooms herself, and brought the furniture and paid 9s. 6d. a week rent—a gentleman used to visit her who I knew as Mr. Williams—she paid her rent regularly up to the time she was arrested—Mr. Williams did not live in the house; he used to come there two or three times a week—she was confined there three months previous to the child's death; it was a girl—the vaccination paper was sent in in the name of Florence Williams—Dr. Reid attended her in her confinement, and she had a nurse for three weeks; she was very well attended to—I saw the child once in two months—after the first month I saw her take it in and out, not to look at it; I saw her with it in her arms from time to time—I saw her on Tuesday, the 13th November, in the morning, three times going in and out of the house; she came downstairs into the kitchen—
I asked her if she was going to wash on that day, as it was her washing day—she said "No"—that was about one as near as I could state—she appeared well at that time—there was nothing unusual about her that I could see—I saw her again about half-past one that same day; I took her some dinner up and knocked at her door—I heard the baby crying in the front room at that time, and she said, "Hark at Dorothy"—that was the only time I heard her say that word—I said, "What is the matter with it?"—she said, "It is trying to have a cry," or something to that effect—that was all I saw of her at that time—I saw her go out at the front door as near four as possible—I could not see whether she had the child; I only saw the top part of her head and shoulders—she had a latch-key—I could not tell whether she came back that night; she could not have come in after half-past twelve—I don't know if she did come home; I did not see her—I did not see her again till next day, Wednesday, when the police came—that was about five or six in the evening—I did not make any effort to see whether she was in her room, or whether she had come home—I never knew her to stop out—some weeks I did not see her once in a week; she kept herself to herself so much—she cooked for herself in her own room—on the Wednesday I pointed out to Sergeant Ward the rooms she occupied—I went with him into the bedroom, and saw him find the dead body of the child between the mattresses on the bed—it was the same child that I had known as hers—Mr. Williams was there on Monday evening, the 12th—he came about seven and knocked, and I let him in, and he left about eight or nine—I was standing at the front door at the time he went out—I know the prisoner's handwriting—I have had a letter from her—I went to see her in the prison—she wished to see me, and I went on Monday week, 3rd December, and after I had been I received this letter from her. (Read: "Remand Hospital, Monday, 3rd December, 1894. To Mrs. Brown,—I am grateful to you for coming this morning to see me. You say that Mr. Clifford has been and have taken some things away. I left my diamond earrings and two diamond rings and brooch in a bag on the sideboard, and you say that he has taken them away. They were all presents from him to me on my birthdays; and the furniture he bought for me, so that if ever I left him, or anything happened, that I should not be without a home. The things are not troubling me, but I did not expect him to act in the manner which you say he has. I want my sister Eliza to take care of them for me. He does not even wait until I am tried. There are a lot of the things which I bought out of my own savings. The money what I first had in the Post Office he made me draw out just before I come to your place, to buy the carpet and rug. Oh, I hope God will forgive me for what I have done to my little child. Oh, I wish that I had never seen him; he was always taunting me that the child was not his, just because of the drink. He led me on the same as he did his first wife—led her on with the drink until it killed her; and now I am worse than being dead, for pray I cannot just yet, for my brain seems to go round and round. Why did not he send a letter in to tell ire that he was going to take the things? He gave them to me: but when he comes you tell him that I want my sister to look after them. I hope that God will leave me my senses, so that I may repent of this most terrible sin.—JULIA LEE")—I had told
her in the prison that this man had been and taken away some of her jewellery.
Cross-examined. She wished to see me, through her sisters—when I saw the child it appeared to be properly cared for, and very well clothed—she appeared fond of it, and was always talking about it.
By the COURT. I had not noticed that she had given way to drink—I saw no difference—I did not see much of her—I saw the man there on the Monday—that was the man that she calls Clifford in her letter—I have seen him since, he has called several times since; he holds the keys of the rooms now—I do not know whether he is here today.
DURAND MANSFIELD (Inspector E). On Wednesday afternoon, 14th November, about half-past four, I was on duty at Bow Street Police-station, when the prisoner came in—I asked her what she wanted—she replied, "I have smothered my child"—I cautioned her as to the seriousness of her statement, and asked her if she knew what she was saying, as it might be given in evidence against her—she replied, "Yes"—she then made a statement which I reduced to writing; I read it over to her, and she signed it in my presence—it was put in at the Lambeth Police-court—in consequence of her statement I gave instructions to Sergeant Ward—when the prisoner came to the station I noticed that she was in a very nervous condition, very shaky—I could smell that she had been drinking, but she was not drunk—she may have been the worse for drink—I should say she was a little the worse for drink.
Cross-examined. I know that she was examined by Dr. Henry that same evening at, Kennington Road Station, but I was not there.
Re-examined. I saw nothing in her condition at Bow Street that might not have been accounted for by having drank to access—in my judgment that would account for her condition.
ALFRED WARD (Sergeant E). About five on 14th November, Inspector Mansfield gave me instructions, in consequence of which I saw the prisoner at Bow Street Police-station—I showed her a statement in writing which he had handed to me; it bore the signature of Julia Williams—I said to her "This statement is a very serious one, if true, and involves a charge of wilful murder against you"—she said, "It is true, you will find it at 65, Kennington Road, under the bed"—she appeared in a dazed and stupid condition—I went to 65, Kennington Road—Mrs. Brown showed me the room that the prisoner had occupied—I examined the bed, and between two mattresses I found the body of a female child wrapped up in its night-dress, with a bath towel round the head, a portion of which was stuffed in the child's mouth, bearing marks of blood—the child was dead; discoloration had set in—I first went to the Police-station, and then fetched Dr. Henry; he examined the body in my presence—I then returned to Bow Street Station, and saw the prisoner, and said, "I have been to 65, Kennington Road, and I find that your statement is true. I shall have again to caution you, as it will be now my duty to charge you with wilful murder"—she made no reply, but burst into tears—I then conveyed her to Kennington Road Station—on the way she said, "There is no one to blame for this but myself. I have lately given way to drink; it is all through the drink"—later on the same night, at the station, she said the man she was living with was very good to her, and allowed her 30s. a week—at the station she handed me
a puree, containing. £1 5s. 10d., and two gold rings—when I. was at the house I looked into the other room, the sitting-room, and found two feeding bottles; one contained some milk, the other was immersed in water in a basin as if to be cleaned; that bottle was empty.
Cross-examined. The two rooms were comfortably furnished in every way—when I first saw her at Bow Street she was in a stupid, dazed condition—she had evidently been drinking—she smelt of drink—I saw nothing about her eyes; her articulation was perfect.
By the COURT. There was one phrase of hers not in my deposition, "I done it myself"—I forgot to give that in evidence; I have it in the note I made at the time.
By MR. AVORY. I was present at the Police-court when Dr. Henry gave his evidence in the prisoner's presence—she was represented—I saw him sign his deposition.
GEORGE FREDERICK FARR , M.D. I am divisional surgeon at Lambeth—I know Dr. George Nicholl Henry; he is also a divisional surgeon in that district—he is now ill, suffering from acute rheumatism—I saw him this morning—he has been confined to his bed three weeks—he is too ill to travel. (The deposition of Dr. George Nicholl Henry was put in and read: "At a quarter to seven on the night of the 14th, I was called to 65, Kennington Road. In a bedroom on the first floor back I saw a female child lying on the bed on its left side, at the top end of the bed, between two mattresses; a bolster, two pillows, and the bedclothes lying over the top mattress, the child lying under them, across the bed. Completely covering over its head was a bath towel; part of the towel was in the child's mouth, moistened with mucus, slightly tinged with blood; there was bloody and frothy mucus in the mouth and nostrils; the tongue was slightly protruded, and of a purplish red colour. There was some blood on the right cheek. There was another reddish mark about the size of a penny on the right side of the chin. There was another reddish mark, with the skin rubbed off, under the chin on the right side. The right ear was doubled on itself from pressure; The skin on the buttock was red, and abraded. There was post-mortem stiffening in the upper and lower limbs. Post-mortem lividity was well marked on the left side of the knee and next left side of the chest and abdomen, the outer side of the left arm and leg, and under side of the left arm and leg. The skin of the lower part of the belly was of a greenish due, due to putrefaction. The child had been dead from twenty-five to thirty-six hours. It was dressed in a night-gown, flannel, and shirt, a binder round the body, with a napkin round the buttock; the gown, flannel, and napkin were moist with urine. Underneath the child, lying on the mattress, was a red shawl. In the sitting room, in front, on the table, I saw two feeding-bottles; one had some milk in it, the other was in water, with a brush in it. I saw the prisoner at the Police-station, Kennington Road, the same night; she was in a dazed, stupid, and vacant condition, required to have our questions repeated, as if she did not comprehend them. She looked to me as if she was just recovering from a heavy bout of drinking. On the 16th I made a post-mortem examination. The child was about three months old, its body poorly, but not badly, nourished, clean; it weighed eight pounds, considerably under the usual, but it was a small child; the cause of death was asphyxia,
from suffocation. Considerable pressure must have been used to cause the effect. The clothes of the child, as described, with the towel in its mouth, was sufficient to cause asphyxia. I examined the left chest and abdomen. The appearance of the lungs, thymus, gland, and brain all point to death from suffocation. In the stomach I found a quantity of milk, partially digested. I am of opinion that the child was fed shortly before it was suffocated.")
THOMAS HOLLAND (Inspector L). I saw the prisoner at Kennington Station when she was charged—she evidently appeared to me to have been drinking very heavily—she was trembling very violently and was in a very dazed condition; every muscle of her body appeared to work—her breath smelt as if she had been drinking—I was at the Police-court when a statement alleged to have been signed by her was put in—I saw it; I saw Mr. Campbell Martin, the Magistrate's clerk, put the letter A on it, and attach it to the front of the deposition with a pin—I cannot now see a pin-mark there. (This statement was search for but could not be found,)
MR. HUTTON called
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am senior medical officer of Holloway Prison—the prisoner came there on 15th October—she has been under my observation ever since—she was suffering from great mental depression—the first day she came she was very vacant in her manner, and I had great difficulty in getting an answer to any question I put to her—that was all I noticed about her the first day—she had no sleep that night, and she was reported to me to have delusions—I saw her the following morning—she told me she thought some man had been trying to get in at the window—she also said she thought she heard voices saying, "That is the mother"—I considered those were delusions—she has continued very much in the same condition with regard to her mental state—I have always had great difficulty in getting answers to my questions—she never spoke to anyone unless spoken to, and although supplied with books she never read them—she frequently sits down, and is observed to be crying—she has spoken to me about her child—she appeared to be fond of it—as far as I could gather, I should say she was not of a very strong intellect; she was of a weak intellect—I think she was suffering from melancholia—I have been in Court this morning, and have heard the evidence—I believe that she was suffering from melancholia from the time she first came under my observation—I should say she would not know the nature and quality of the act she did—she was suffering from melancholia—that is not always accompanied by mania—it is a distinct disease by itself—it would have sudden impulses—you can have sudden impulse in melancholia.
Cross-examined. There is a difference between melancholia and melancholy—melancholia, in a characteristic sense of the word, would mean some affection of the brain, a diseased condition of the brain—we can only tell the distinction by our constant experience of such cases—there is such a thing as conscience in the sane, and remorse and sorrow—I should certainly expect a sane woman who had killed her child to feel remorse and sorrow afterwards, and to be very melancholy, and, to a certain extent, reserved and not inclined to talk—I don't think I should expect such a person to imagine that people were pointing at her and saying, "She has killed her
child"—I have heard the letter of the prisoner read in Court this morning—a sane person might certainly show sorrow and repentance for what she had done—my chief reason for what I have said is the absence of any discoverable motive for such a terrible crime—a sane woman might kill her child from poverty, fearing that it might be starved, or because she felt it to be a burden to her; that might be a motive with a sane person—I did not see anything about her to lead me to the opinion that she had given way to drink—if she had committed a crime I don't think she would have remembered it if she had been so very drunk.
Re-examined. If a person of weak intellect gave way to drink that would be more apt to cause insanity than in an ordinary person—persons sometimes commit suicide from irresistible impulse; that is a homicidal impulse—that might be followed by melancholia, and probably would.
By the COURT. I have had very little experience in the treatment of the insane—I have seen an immense number of insane person—sometimes all traces of insanity may depart in a very short time; it might disappear in a few minutes, it might be very transitory indeed—there are many instances where children have been destroyed immediately after birth; that is generally in cases of puerperal mania, which mania may pass away—alcohol will produce the same thing—I do not say that a person coming raging drunk out of a public-house is insane, but his mind would be in abeyance at the time: he had lost his reason; he is mad for the time being—there is such a thing as alcoholic insanity; there is delirium tremens—extreme depression may be accounted for either by insanity or drink; but considering that in this case it has continued during all the time the prisoner has been under my observation, I am the more inclined to think it due to mental depression—if in a state of drunkenness she had caused death without contemplating a fatal result that would cause great depression; but that would not cause all I saw; there was the difficulty of getting answers to questions—that is certainly not uncommon even with sane persons; stupidity might cause the—the books she had were supplied to her by the school-mistress—she was in a ward, not in a cell—she would open a book and sit with it on her lap, not looking at it.
GUILTY of Manslaughter. — Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LYNE Prosecuted, and MR. DE MICHELFE Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
112. WILLIAM SPEARING (45), PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of James Pearson, and stealing £15, a silver watch, and other articles; also to a previous conviction of felony in 1893.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. And
(113). JAMES WINTER (18). And WILLIAM GEORGE HORSEY (17) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of James Steele, with intent to steal, and stealing a box of shortbread, a box of figs, a bottle of stout, a key, and a pair of scissors; and both to previous convictions. Mr. Wheatley, of the St. Giles's Christian Mission, stated that he had on sevaral occasions received Horsey and got him
situations, all of which he had left WINTER** Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. HORSEY— Fourteen Months' Hard Labour [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. AUSTIN METCALFE Defended.
EVELYN EMMA HART . I live at 49, Dorset Road, Clapham—on November 8th, 1892, I was married to the prisoner at the Registry Office, Lavender Gardens—this is the certificate—he describes himself as a captain, retired from the Royal Marine Artillery—he said he was a widower—a day or two after the marriage he said he was divorced from his first wife—I asked him why he did not tell me before that his wife was living—he said she was dead and cold to him absolutely, and it was all the same, just the same as if she was really dead, and that he was legally and properly divorced from her, just as if he had never been married—he said something about Captain Fenton, and that the suit was Dighton v. Dighton and Dunbar, Dunbar being the co-respondent, and that he had divorced her—he said she was alive, but that he should never feel anything for her or see her, and that I was his wife—late this year I ascertained there had not been a divorce, through a letter sent from my home to Whitehall to make inquiries how it could be found out—I received this letter from him in February, 1894. (This stated that he knew he had committed a breach of the law, but that it was through ignorance when he read the deed of separation)—after we were married he brought me papers in his own writing to show that he had gone through the service honourably, and that he had been a good man—the divorce paper was shown to me separately afterwards; it was a sheet of foolscap in his own writing, and he read it to me himself—I don't know what it was, but he told me it was a copy of his wife's divorce—there was something in it about two children, and their brother being the guardian for them—this letter is in his writing.
Cross-examined. The document was read to me a few days after the ceremony in my shop parlour—I am sure it was not read before—I believed it was a divorce when he read it—I looked at the paper; it did not read only like a separation—I forget how it read now—I lived with him after November, 1892, until October this year—his mother lived with us from April, 1893, to October this year, when I left him, with the exception of eight weeks in the summer—a young woman, who was represented as his daughter, also came in June, 1894, and stayed till October—she was supposed to be between sixteen and seventeen—I never sent presents to her, mother by her, but I believe money was sent through the prisoner to his children.
JOHN WINSER (Detective V). I arrested the prisoner on 2nd November, and told him the charge—he said, "What nonsense!"—afterwards he said, "I am innocent of committing bigamy; she married me, well knowing I had separated from my wife in consequence of some unhappy differences, legally drawn up, and which I considered as good as a divorce"—I produce a copy of the marriage certificate of George Murray Dighton and Mary Ann Biggs at the parish church, Milton, Hampshire, on 28th May, 1868—I did not show that to him.
Southsea—I am the prisoner's son—I remember being as a child with my father and mother—I have heard them talk about being married—he has never to my knowledge denied the fact that he was married to my mother—I last saw my mother alive about two months ago at my house—I don't know where she is now—she was at my brother's funeral.
MR. METCALFE submitted that there was no evidence of the first marriage (Q. v. Savage, 13 Cox; Q. v. Simpson, 14 Cox). MR. WARBURTON contended that the certificate of the first marriage, coupled with the statements which the prisoner had made, and the deed of separation which he had produced, was evidence to go to the Jury. THE RECORDER, after consulting MR. JUSTICE HAWKINS, ruled that it was a question for the Jury
ROBERT DIGHTON stated he was a trustee under the deed of separation between his father and mother, and that by that deed his father undertook to pay 10s. a week for the support of the two younger children; and that that sum had been paid to them.
The prisoner produced testimonials to his excellent character in the Army.
Judgment respited to next Session in order to give the prisoner an opportunity of making reparation to the prosecutrix
MR. FLEMING Prosecuted.
EDWARD EDGAR WHITE . I am a postman—on November 23rd, at night, I was walking along Blackfriars Road, and saw four men walking down the street—the prisoner pinned me by the arms while a young man rifled my pockets—they stripped up my vest and took my watch and chain—the other two men stood by and giggled—they let me go, and the four were going down the road—I saw a constable, and ran to him, and said I had been robbed—the men ran away—I seized the prisoner; we fell to the ground—I tore his coat down the back, and somehow I got a knock on the head—I am sure the prisoner was the man that held me; I could see his face distinctly, and he had the same clothes on that he has now—I was perfectly sober at the time.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was suffering from rheumatism at the time, and was walking with a stick—you did not catch me by the arms when a man said I was Flash Fred, and was shamming—I brought the constable across the road from one side to the other—you first caught me by my arms at the back.
By the COURT. I was hurt in the head in the struggle—the policeman took him from me while he was on the ground.
ROBERT FIDDLEMAN (184 M). On the morning of 24th November White came to me and said something, in consequence of which I crossed the road with him—he threw a man to the ground, and as he was getting up I caught him by the back of the neck and said, "You must consider yourself in custody"—he said, "All right, I will be quiet"—when I told him what I should take him to the station for he said, "It is a d—lie; I know nothing about it."
By the COURT. The prosecutor was sober—when he first spoke to me I saw four men—when the prosecutor spoke to me the others ran away—the prisoner tried to get away from the prosecutor.
Cross-examined. When I got hold of you you were on the ground with the prosecutor.
A gate officer of the Salvation Army proved that from 30th July to 20th October this year the prisoner was in one of their shelters, and behaved himself properly during that time.
The prisoner, in his defence, asserted his innocence.
GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in April, 1892. Eleven other convictions were proved against the prisoner. He had served terms of three, five, seven, and ten years' penal servitude.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
118. JOHN SUMMERS (17), and RICHARD EVANS (17), Robbery with violence on Richard Clark, and stealing from his person a watch and chain and a locket, his property. They PLEADED GUILTY to the robbery, but not to the violence.
JOSEPH CLARK . I am a carman, of 107, York Road, Bermondsey—I shall be seventy-six years old next February—on October 15th, about 3.30 p.m., two men attacked me in broad daylight—one took my watch and chain, and I was knocked down, and kicked when I was on the ground on my knee, my shoulder, and body—I never saw their faces, they came behind me—I did not go to a hospital, I sent for a doctor.
Cross-examined by Summers. I said that I was unconscious when I arose, not when I was knocked down.
Cross-examined by Summers. I was forty or fifty yards off.
VENNING BURGESS . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 223, Great Dover Street—on October 21st I examined the prosecutor—he was suffering from abrased wounds on his finger and thumb, very deep; his right shoulder was dislocated; he had extreme pain in his chest, on which ultimately a bruise appeared; he had a bruise on his right eye and on one knee—the bruise on his chest set up pleurisy, which was very serious to a man of his age—I doubt whether he will ever be able to use his arm properly again—the nervous shock was extreme—he was three weeks in bed, and was confined to his room up to about ten days ago.
Summers' defence. The old man was going along with a stick in his hand, and the stick slipped and he fell.
Evans' defence. I and two others were in the road and saw the prosecutor; a Yankee, who I do not know, snatched the watch and knocked
the old man down, but I never touched him. I was not near him, but I pleaded guilty to having shoved him.
GUILTY of robbery with violence. Recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of their youth. They then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction together, at Newington on November 14th 1893, and other convictions were proved against them. SUMMERS— Nine Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat. EVANS— Twelve Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat.
MR. BRYAN Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended McAuliffe
ALFRED TWIGG . I am manager of the Merrick Arms, Battersea—on October 14th there was a fight in the bar, and I saw Hooper taking part in it—I am not sure whether McAuliffe was there—six or seven persons were fighting; I had them all ejected about 10.30.
Cross-examined by Hooper. I saw you fighting—there were fourteen or fifteen men in the compartment—I did not notice Mr. Mead—there is a stone step outside.
By the COURT. I think I have seen McAuliffe once; he asked me to change 3s. worth of coppers—they commenced fighting outside, and I remained at the door to prevent them returning, till the police came—some of them went down on the ground—I saw four or five go down on the ground; there was a general rush—the injured man remained on the ground, and the four or five went away.
JOHN PYNE . I am a coal porter, and lived in the same house as Mead, but he has removed since—I went with him to the Merrick Arms on October 14th, and as we entered McAuliffe pushed against me—when we got in I saw both the prisoners, and several others—they started a quarrel—Mead ordered refreshment, and they began conversing with him—McAuliffe struck him first, and they both struck him—while Mead was paying I saw him with a purse with two sovereigns in it, and a large quantity of silver—this was before the fight—he was perfectly sober—he had had three drinks of beer.
Cross-examined by Hooper. Mead did not want to fight a man—he did not say he would fight any man in the bar for a sovereign, but he said he would protect himself I was not in the fight; I went away before you left.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. We were not going into the public-house at first; we were going round the corner for our own purposes when McAuliffe pushed against him—he told me his intention was to see what they meant, and we both went in—whether he called them to account or not I do not know, because I was calling for some beer—he then sat down at a table with some others, and conversation arose about fighting somebody for a sovereign—I do not know who said it, and Mead said, "I don't get my living by fighting"—I had been in Mead's company from 8.30 or 8.45—Mr. Rich was in the same compartment, on the opposite side-there was a man there something like McAuliffe, who struck Mead—I do not know Frank McAuliffe—one of them struck Mead with his
hand—that was the first blow—afterwards Mead was sitting at the table in a friendly way with the others—he did not fall down after the blow—they were all turned out, and everybody was scrambling—I do not know whether some of them fell down—I went home—I did not see what happened outside—the manager was standing at the door—I am thirty-one years old—I make my mark; I cannot write.
JOHN MEAD . I am a tobacconist—on October 14th, about 10.30 or 10.45 p.m., I went with Pyne to the Merrick Arms—I had a leather purse containing £3 10s. in gold, and four or five shillings in loose silver—as I went in someone (I could not see who) pushed against me—when I got in I saw the two prisoners and three men not in custody—I ordered some refreshment, and the men in the bar asked me to buy them some beer—I took no notice, and then two or three of them asked whether I could fight—I said, "No, I do not want to fight, and do not go about as a professional fighter"—on that I received a blow on my nose, and several severe blows—about seven of them were there—we were all pushed out of the house by the landlord, and directly I got out I was pushed and tried to be thrown over by the men—McAuliffe ran at me and kicked me on my legs, and I fell on my back on the pavement—I put my hand in my pocket to save my purse, and the other man dealt me a severe blow on my nose with his fist—McAuliffe kicked me while the other man took my purse—I was attended by a doctor, and it was found that my leg was broken in three places—I was nine weeks in the hospital.
By the COURT. I paid for the drink with a shilling out of my purse, and put my purse back in my pocket—anybody could see me do that.
Cross-examined by Hooper. I said at the Police-court that McAuliffe took a running hit at me, but you are the man who struck me on my nose—when you came up on remand I was on two sticks, and they said, "Is there anybody there you know?"—I had a doubt at first—you were not pointed out to me, nor did I say, "That is the man, I can tell him by his trousers"—McAuliffe has a beard now, but he was close-shaved then.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I said to Pyne going into the house that I would go in and see what those two young fellows meant by pushing against me, but I did not carry it out—I never spoke to the prisoners at all—Pyne and I went to the bar together—he did not order his drink, leaving me talking to the men—a man hit me with his clenched fist, not with the back of his hand—Mr. Rix was not standing near; he did not strike me—a man did, but I did not find afterwards that he was Frank McAuliffe; I never heard the name before—I was knocked down in the bar, and the manager came and turned us all out in a body—McAuliffe had no beard, but five weeks afterwards, at the Police-station, his appearance was altered by a beard, and he had a long coat down to his ankles, and his collar was up, and I did not recognise him—I noticed his face when he was kicking me.
Re-examined. I believe there was a lamp outside the public-house.
GEORGE RIX ,. On October 14th I was at the Merrick Arms—Mead and the two prisoners were there—they asked Mead to buy some beer for them, and Frank McAuliffe asked him if he could box—he said, "No, I don't get my living by boxing," and Hooper knocked him down and struck him with his fist when he was on his knees.
Cross-examined by Hooper. I did not say anything, because I could
see what a place I was in—I came up on the first day, when you were remanded.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I got in I found Mead and five men talking quite friendly together; two of them were the prisoners—Frank was the first to use violence—I did not see what occurred out-side—both the McAuliffes were put out as well—I did not see Mead on the ground when I went out.
WILLIAM HEATH (Police Sergeant 20 V). On October 14th I was on duty in Portland Road, and saw Mead being attended by a doctor—I went with Faulkner to McAuliffe's house, and told him he would be arrested for robbery with violence—he said, "I was not there"—I charged Hooper at the station—neither of them said anything.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Faulkner had had some conversation with the landlord before I got up—I did not hear McAuliffe say that he had been in bed from 10.30.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. When I got there I asked the landlord if William McAuliffe was there—I know Gooch McAuliffe, the prisoner's brother—he said, "The man you want is not here"—I said, "I want William"—that was from information I had received—I know them both—the landlord said, "The man you want is not here"—I said, "I want William"—the prisoner came down, and I said, "You are wanted for being concerned with others in knocking a man down, and robbing him"—he said, "I know nothing about it; I was at home at 10.30"—I know Frank; he is taller than his brother, and close shaved and younger—the prisoner is five feet ten inches, and his brother six feet; the difference is more than half an inch—I was told that it was William, and I went to take William in custody—the prisoners were taken without a warrant—no one suggested that Frank should be taken; no attempt has been made to arrest him, I believe.
CECIL LISTER . I am resident medical officer at Bolingbrook Hospital, Wandsworth Common—on October 15th Mead was admitted, suffering from five contused wounds on the face, breast, nose, and mouth—two bones of the lower tibia of his leg were broken—he is still an out-patient, and it will be months or more before he can do anything—his leg will be permanently shorter.
Cross-examined by Hooper. He has the five scars on his face, but they were not very severe.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Hooper says:."I know nothing about the case, the man was fighting with another man, who had nothing to do with me. "McAuliffe says:"When the man came to identify us he said there was no one he knew."
Hooper's defence. I was in the public-house, and saw the fight, and I was fighting with the prosecutor's mate, and we all got chucked out.
HOOPER— GUILTY of robbery with violence. He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction on April 8th, 1892, and ten other convictions were proved
against him.— Seven Years' penal Servitude, and Twenty-five Strokes with the Cat.
MCAULIFFE— GUILTY of robbery only. Three convictions were proved against him.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JANUARY 7TH, 1895.