CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIFTH SESSION, HELD FEBRUARY 25TH, 1895.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, February 25th, 1895, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir RICHARD HENN COLLINS, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir GEORGE ROBERT TYLER , Bart., Alderman of the said City; GEORGE FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., and JOHN POUND , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBER MALCOLM KERR , Esq., L.L.D., Judge of the City of London Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. FIFTH SESSION.
A star (*)denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†)that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, February 25th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. RANDALL Defended.
WILLIAM PORTER . I am a grocer and cheesemonger, at 120, Bidder Street, West Ham—on 13th September the sanitary inspector, Mr. Evans, seized fifty-nine tins of condensed milk, which were exposed on my counter for sale at a penny a tin, and I was summoned before Mr. Baggallay at West Ham Police-court, and fined £5 and costs, because they were unfit for human food—I called the prisoner as a witness—I purchased the tins of milk from the firm in which the prisoner is a partner—I got these two receipts—the first purchase was on 21st August of two cases of 1 lb. tins at 2s., which would be halfpenny a tin—the usual price of a four-dozen case of 1 lb. tins is about 8s. 8d., more than four times the price I paid—the ordinary retail price of such tins in thoroughly good condition, and with labels, would be 2 1/2 d. to 3d.—my second purchase was on 28th August; I then had eleven and a half dozen at the same price—on 13th September there might not have been more than half a dozen of my first purchase perhaps—the fifty-nine seized were all purchased from the prisoner—I took the second lot home on the Saturday morning, and put them on my counter on the following Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday—I then found a few of them bulged, not very much; they would not stand flat on the counter, and so I put them in the canter of the pile with straight ones round them—I knew that bulging shows that fermentation has set in—as I sold them I opened them for the buyers—I found the milk was thick and rather dark in colour—they were sold to me as thick milk—there were no labels outside the tins; they had been stripped off; I could see the remains of some of them; they were in that condition when I bought them—I bought them at 23, Upper North Street, Poplar, the prisoner's shop—that address is on the
invoice; it is an open public shop—the first lot were sold to me as "plain daily milk," which is a trade description of a brand of milk—they were sold to me to sell as retail again—there might have been a little difference between those opened on Monday or Tuesday and Wednesday and those seized on 13th September; they would deteriorate by keeping—I did not notice any particular difference—I did not notice if any were bulged when I bought them—I don't think any of the first lot were bulged—I could not say how many of those were left on 13th September—when I opened some of the tins for my customers a little gas escaped, but very little—no gas escaped from others—the escaping gas was slightly acid in smell—I think I opened two or three on my counter for Mr. Evans—I noticed gas escaping then; from one especially—I think that gas had the same smell.
Cross-examined. The prisoner's brother called on me first, and told me he had got some milk that had gone a little thick, and asked if I could do with it at two shillings a case—there has been a quantity of thick milk about all the summer, even with labels on—condensed milk sometimes goes rather solid without being in any sense bad—I understood that that was the condition in which Pledge offered it to me, and I bought it, and that was the reason for the price—I said I would try two cases (ninety-six tins)—I took the ninety-six tins on the 21st, and tried it, and was satisfied with it—it sold fairly, and our customers were satisfied with it—I sold it as thick, but sweet—there might have been left six tins or so of that first ninety-six on September 13th, when I put the second lot on the counter—I had fifty-nine tins left on September 13th, having purchased altogether 238—I was satisfied with the first lot, and told Mr. Pledge so—I was making 100 per cent, on them—I know Pledger has a manager—I don't know if his name is Wilkinson—I cannot say that any of the second lot were blown when they came in on 28th, because I did not unpack them till the following week—if Wilkinson packed and looked them over, he would probably know if they were blown—I have no particular recollection of whether the weather was hot about August 28th or 29th, 1894—those I had left on September 13th were thick—I did not open one but what it was thick; I bought them as thick, but I considered, although thick, they were perfectly good—I don't suppose the prisoner had stripped off the labels; I believe he bought them without labels—I know nothing about it—they had had labels at one time—there might be considerable difference between the tins on September 13th and August 28th.
WILLIAM HENRY FOWLER . I am clerk to the Justices of the West Ham Borough Police-court—on September 19th, 1894, William Porter was charged there with exposing for sale milk unfit for human food, under the Public Health Act, 1875—the prisoner gave evidence for Porter—I have this note of what he said: "I live at 68, Derby Street; I am a grocer, wholesale. The defendant purchased five cases of milk of me some time ago; a month or six weeks ago, the 28th and 21st August. Each case contained four dozen 1 lb. tins. It was bought at a grocer's sale by auction at Dalston, I cannot say the date, within the last three months. I have not looked at my books. It was bought at Lewis Joseph's sale at five shillings a case. I sold it at two shillings a case. We found it thick; that was why we sold it at a lower price. I said it was
thick and sweet. I saw several of the tins when bought three months ago. I found them thick before selling them to Porter."
Cross-examined. When he said he sold at two shillings a case I understood him to refer to the particular cases he sold to Porter.
WILLIAM EVANS . I am sanitary inspector for the Borough of West Ham—on 13th September I went to Porter's shop, 120, Bidder Street—I had previously purchased a tin of milk there—I saw fifty-nine tins of condense milk on the counter, marked 1d. apiece—Porter opened two for me—I did not select the tins; he picked them up himself—the whole lot were bulged at the ends—the milk in the two opened by Porter appeared a very dirty yellow colour and smelt very badly; it was a very sour smell—when he punctured the tin gas blew out—I examined the whole of the fifty-nine tins and told him I should seize them as being unfit for food; and I seized and took them to Dr. Saunders, the medical officer of health, and then before Mr. Ernest Baggallay, the Magistrate—about half of them were opened before him; they were all bad and were condemned.
Cross-examined. I know nothing about the condition of these tins before September 13th—I do not think condensed milk would be unfit for human food if it were merely thick, with nothing else wrong—if the tin was blown I should naturally conclude at once it was bad—they were all blown on September 13th, some more than others.
CHARLES SAUNDERS . I am medical officer of health for West Ham—on September 13th fifty-nine tins were brought to me—they were all blown—some were opened before being submitted to me, and the others I took to Mr. Baggallay, and I saw them opened in his presence—in all the tins I saw opened the milk was thick, of darkish colour, in place apparently curdled, and with an offensive odour—when the tins were opened an offensive gas escaped—in my opinion that milk was quite unfit for human food—a robust individual might get over taking it; a person a little out of sorts would probably get indigestion from it or some gastric or internal irritation; it might be very dangerous to children, and it is largely used for young children's food—it would be harmful to infants and adults.
Cross-examined. I look at thickness as being the first sign of decomposition—I know of no condition of a properly prepared condensed milk which is thick from simple causes—I should regard condensed milk, thick, but not otherwise wrong, as suspicious—I look on thickness as the first stage of decomposition—I think such milk should not be sold without a warning—I don't think it is necessarily injurious unless fermentation has set in; I object to its being sold—in my opinion it would be bad when it was thick; I cannot judge as to the exact stage of decomposition—I should not like to say how long before September 13th it had been unfit for human food, but I am of opinion that the tins would not have got into the state they were in during the thirteen days of September; that condition must have lasted at least a fortnight—decomposition would not be accelerated by moving from a cool to a hot place; heat would not start the decomposition.
and other districts—I have bad considerable practical experience in the preparation of condensed milk—when tins of condensed milk are blown it indicates that fermentation of the contents has taken place—I could not say from that alone whether the contents were or were not fit for human food—it would not be safe to use the milk if the tin was blown—when a blown tin is punctured the gas which is causing the bulging escapes, and from the smell of the gas you can tell whether the contents are good or bad—I did not see these tins—in a suitable temperature of between 60° and 70° F. the milk might become very offensive in smell, dark in colour and curdled within fourteen days, not less than that—the milk first becomes curdled, and then dark in colour and offensive in smell; the curdling is the first stage in the decomposition—the whole thing might arise within about fourteen days.
Cross-examined. Decomposition might go on for seven days before you saw any external sign—in seven days under suitable conditions of temperature the tins would become bulged, and within fourteen days the milk would be so decomposed that you could see it—decomposition would be more rapid the higher the temperature of the air.
WILLIAM PORTER (Re-examined by the COURT). The prisoner's brother was the actual salesman of the tins to me—the prisoner was not present on either 21st or 28th August, when I bought them—I did not see the prisoner in connection with the sales.
The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that there was no case to go to the JURY, as there was no evidence that on 21st and 28th August, the days of the sale, the milk was then unfit for food, and he directed the JURY to return a verdict of
NOT GUILTY .
227. JOHN BURCH (19) and HYMAN FINBURG (27) , Stealing a purse, a coin, two postage stamps, a piece of paper, and £1 17s. 6d., the goods and money of John Vincent Farrow, from the person of Ezette Farrow.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
EZETTE FARROW . I am the wife of George Vincent Farrow, and live at Trinity House, Tower Hill—on 21st January I travelled from Victoria Station to Mark Lane, about eight p.m., in a third-class compartment—I sat with my back to the engine in the corner furthest from the door—the compartment was then empty—a gentleman got in at the next station, I think, St. James's Park—he sat at the furthest corner from me, and never came near me—I think he only went one station; I was not noticing particularly—I took out my purse at Charing Cross, and took out my ticket and put it in my glove—that was after the gentleman got out—at Blackfriars Station the prisoners got in, and Burch came and sat beside me on my right hand, and Fin burg sat at the other side of him—they sat in the middle of the compartment beside me—my pocket was on my right-hand side—just after the prisoners got in I put my hand in my pocket and found my purse was gone; that was between Blackfriars and the Mansion House—we had started from Blackfriars Station when I missed it—I turned to Burch and said, "I have lost my purse"—he said, "Have you?" and he struck a match to see if it was on the floor—at the Mansion House a lady got in, and sat facing me in the opposite corner near the door—as she got in Fin burg moved from beside Burch to the
other side where the lady sat—she asked what was the matter, or something to that effect—I said I had lost my purse—at Mark Lane I called a porter—the woman got out at Mark Lane, and went with the other passengers—Finburg spoke to her and said he should like to have her for a witness—Burch said he was innocent.
Cross-examined by Burch. I did not say I wished I had stopped a man who got out at the Temple—I am not sure where he got out—he only went a short distance—he never came near me—you were the only two who sat near me—when you got in I turned to put a parcel in the corner beside me.
Cross-examined by Finburg. When you and Burch got in I was the only other person in the carriage.
Re-examined. It was after the train was in motion, after leaving the station at which the prisoners got in, that I found I had lost my purse—the only person who got in besides the prisoners was the gentleman—after he got out I saw my purse—after that the prisoners got in, and then I missed my purse—the only other person who got in was the lady, and she got in at the Mansion House.
WILLIAM HENRY EVEREST . I am a porter on the Metropolitan and District Railway at Mark Lane Station—on 21st January, on the arrival of the 8.33 train, I was called by the last witness, who told me she had lost her purse—I called the guard—I searched the compartment; the purse was not found—I called the station inspector, and the prisoners were given into custody—I saw the woman in a light cloak, who went from the station among the crowd of passengers—I saw Finburg go up and speak to her.
Cross-examined by Burch. I did not see you speak to her.
Cross-examined by Finburg. My back was turned to you; I was speaking to Burch—you went up and spoke to the woman; I did not hear what you said.
HENRY NEWTON . I am an inspector of this Railway Company at Mark Lane Station—I was called by Everest, and the prosecutrix said that she had lost her purse and she believed those people had taken it—I said to her, "Do you wish to give them into custody? Will you charge them with it?"—she said "Yes"—I requested them to alight from the train—a woman had alighted from the compartment just before I got to the door; the prosecutrix and the prisoners were in the compartment—the prisoners refused at first to alight, and then after a little persuasion I got them out—as I got hold of Finburg's collar he went up to the woman, who had on a large ulster with a cape, and said to her, "You will plead for me, will you not, lady?" and ho put his hands up to hers underneath her cloak—she went away with a lot of other passengers.
Cross-examined. The train stayed at Mark Lane for about a minute—you refused to alight at first, and said you had tickets for Aldgate East—the woman, after she got out, stayed at the compartment with the other people who had come out of other parts of the train—the prosecutrix said she did charge you—I said it was the duty of the police to search you.
Cross-examined by Finburg. When I came up to the compartment and said you had better come to the office, I took hold of your arm, but as soon as you alighted from the train I caught hold of your collar, and
your hands were free—when you spoke to the woman the prosecutrix was not a yard from the door of the compartment—you said, "You will plead for me, will you not?" and she said, "No, I will have nothing to do with it."
By Burch. I could not arrest the woman because there was only myself and the porter; the two guards went away with the train—the porter I sent for a constable, and I had to hold you and Finburg—the train stayed for about a minute in the station.
EDWARD BUSBY (784 City). The prisoners were given into my custody—I searched them at the station; I found nothing on them relating to this charge—they gave up tickets from Blackfriars to Aldgate East as they came out of the station.
Cross-examined by Burch. The prosecutrix said she was confused.
The prisoners in their defence asserted their innocence.
GUILTY . BURCH PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in January, 1891, in the name of John Lewis. A confectioner stated that since Burch's last conviction, from last December, he had worked for him— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. FINBURG**— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MORESBY Prosecuted.
WILLIAM ELDER . I am an engineer, living at Elswick, Cleveland Road, Wandsworth—on Saturday, January 26th, I was going from a theatre towards Bishopsgate Street on my way home when I was suddenly caught by, thrown, and knocked down by several men, and my purse, containing about £2 18s., was taken from my pocket—by the time I was thrown down an officer came up, and the men cleared away; it was all over in a moment—I struggled and got a blow in the face, and my throat was hurt a little, but not very much—I was kicked when I was on the ground.
WILLIAM BARNES (326 H). On the morning of January 26th I was in Crisping Street, Spitaltields, when I heard cries of "Police!"—I ran into Dorset Street, where I found the prisoner and three other men leaning over the prosecutor—they saw me coming, and said, "Look out, policeman coming," and they ran to Paternoster Court and Brushfield Street; then the three ran to the left, the prisoner to the right—I ran after him, blowing my whistle all the time—he ran to Spitalfields Market, and at the top of it, which is surrounded by iron rails—he tried to get over the rails, and was caught on the rails by the back of his trousers, and he could not get off, and I caught him—I was within forty yards of him all the time, and never lost sight of him.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was forty yards from you when I first saw you leaning over the prosecutor.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I bought some bacon and bread, and tried to steal a cabbage. A policeman came, and I tried to get away, but I could not. The policeman could not identify me at the station."
The prisoner in his defence asserted his innocence.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
229. GEORGE MARTELL (74) PLEADED GUILTY to obtaining by false pretences £25 from James Henry Bird with intent to defraud; also ** to a conviction of misdemeanour in May, 1889, in the name of John Williamson.— Six Months Hard Labour.
230. JAMES MURPHY (23), GEORGE HARPER (41), and HENRY SAMPSON (19) , to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Coleman and another with intent to steal— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four Months' Hard Labour each.
231. WILLIAM HENRY SELLIN (26) , to stealing a post-letter, the property of the Postmaster-General, he being employed under the Post Office; also to secreting a post-letter, and to stealing a post-letter and its contents.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months Hard Labour.
232. JAMES GREGORY, (28) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Adolphus Scott, and stealing silver spoons and forks, and other articles; also** to a conviction of felony at this Court in September, 1893.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eight Months Hard Labour. And
233. GEORGE SMITH (20), and HARRY SHEPPARD (18) , to conspiring to obtain money from divers persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Smith also PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 20s., the money of Frederick William Brett.— Six Months' Hard Labour each.
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, February 25th, 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
He was stated to be of a low type of intellect.— Two Tears' Hard Labour.
MR. MORICE Prosecuted.
BLANCHE WILLIAMS . I am barmaid at the Crown Hotel, Charing Cross—on February 11th, about 8.45 p.m., the prisoner came in for a half-quartern of gin and tendered a florin—I took it to Mr. Jennings, the manager, who gave her in charge—she had been there on January 19th, and passed a bad florin—I said nothing to her about it on either occasion.
THOMAS EDWARD JENNINGS . I am manager of the Crown public-house—on 19th January, in the evening, I served the prisoner with a half of gin—she tendered a florin; I b roke it and returned it to her—she gave me a good one and went away—on 11th February I saw her again in the bar, and the last witness gave me this florin—I went round to her and said, "I have seen you before; I broke one for you before"—she said, "You have made a mistake"—I am positive she is the woman who came on the 19th—she did not attempt to leave the house.
JOHN MIDDLETON (196 C). On February 11th, at 8.45, Mr. Jennings called me and charged the prisoner with uttering this coin, and said she had uttered one three weeks previously—she made no remark—I found a good half-crown and a bun on her.
Prisoner's defence. I did not know it was bad.
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAM FROOM . I am a clerk, of 12, Rapnall Street, Knightsbridge—on Sunday, February 3rd, about one a.m., I was between Margaret Street and Chapel Street, Edgware Road, and the three prisoners came behind me—one made a rush at me and pulled me back, and another snatched my watch and chain—I held one for a little, but they pushed me into the road—I called "Police!" who very soon came—I did not lose sight of the prisoners for a moment; I charged them—this is my watch and chain (Produced)—they are worth £5.
Cross-examined by Baldwin. I saw you though you were behind me, because I turned round—you did not run away; you had not time, the policemen came too quick.
CHARLES GORDON (370 F). On February 3rd, about 12.30 a.m., I was in Edgware Road, and heard cries of "Police!"—I saw Froome crossing the road, and Bennett following him—he joined the other two prisoners on the footway—I met all three prisoners, and stopped them walking together—Hempson said, "It ain't us"—I took them into custody—I was about 100 yards off when I heard the cries.
ROBERT ATKINS (162 B). On February 3rd, in the early morning, I was on duty in Edgware Road, and was called, and saw Gordon with the three prisoners in custody—a gentleman said that something was being passed, and the prosecutor took Hempson to the station—I afterwards searched the spot and found this watch and chain lying in the snow—the prisoners only said that they had not got it.
Baldwin, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he heard cries of "Police!" saw some scuffling, and went across and heard the prosecutor say that he had lost his watch and chain, and that four men had taken it, and that Bennett was one, and then he accused that and Hempson. He produced a letter giving him a five years' good character.
Bennett's defence. I know nothing about the watch and chain.
Hempsots defense. I know nothing about it any more than anyone here.
Bennett** then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on June 6th, 1887, and they were also indicted for another highway robbery, committed only a few minutes before.— Eighteen Months Hard Labour each.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, February 26th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. ABINGER Prosecuted.
a.m.—I had £11 in gold, and I might have had a few coppers; I think I gave them away—I went and had some dinner, and then went back to the ship—as I was leaving the ship again about half-past four I met Simpson, a friend, and asked him if he would come home to tea with me—we did not get home—we went to Leman Street Railway Station, and took train to the West India Docks—I bought some newspapers, and then we went into two or three public-houses—in the Blue Posts there were several men, and among them was the prisoner—I could not say if he was drinking with friends—Simpson gave him some money—when I and Simpson left that public-house the prisoner and another man followed us, and demanded money from me—he said, "Come on, give me some money; I want to get away"—he seized me by the throat and tried to force me over some railings three or four feet high, and the man with him came up and pulled him away from me—I said, "Leave off; we don't want any of that her"—he said, "Give me half-a-crown; if you don't give me half-a-crown it will be 5s. directly"—after the man got him away from me, I and Simpson went to the City Arms—the prisoner followed, abusing me all the way, and calling me filthy names—we went into the City Arms; the prisoner followed us in and demanded money of me—I said, "What I have got I earned, and I am going to keep it"—we had something to drink, and I said to Simpson, "We had better give that man something to get rid of him," and the prisoner had the change out of a florin or half-a-crown which I slid along the bar—we came out and the prisoner followed us—I insisted on Simpson going into the Waterman's Arms to have some more drink—when we came out we crossed the road, and as I passed a narrow passage between two shops, I turned and saw the prisoner behind me—I said to Simpson, "Here comes that man after us again"—Simpson said, "Let us make haste and get home"—the prisoner turned and struck me with his fist in the face and stomach, and knocked me against and through the door of the passage, and I fell full length in the passage—the prisoner fell on top of me—he put his two fingers into my mouth and round my gums, so that I could not call out, and then he caught me by the throat—I called out, "Pull this man off, he is murdering me"—Simpson had walked on ahead—the man with the prisoner was there all the time; when I got up he walked out of the passage after me—Simpson came back and tried to pull the prisoner off—the prisoner put his hand in my coat pocket and tried to take my money, which was loose in my pocket—I had about £9 11s. left—Simpson got him off me, and as he got up he kicked me deliberately in the back four or five times; I have been under a doctor ever since—I have not been to an hospital—I said to Simpson, "Hold that man; he has got my money," and the prisoner took to his heels and ran as hard as he could, and when he got to the kerb he spoke to the other man—a constable came up, and I was taken home—I had a nasty bruise; the doctor thought my spine was injured—I had a large bruise all down my face—I was bruised about the body and face—I can hardly get about now; I am afraid I shall not be able to go to an easy job they have offered me—the Police-court proceedings were adjourned on several occasions for my attendance in consequence of my injuries—I was in bed for nearly a week—I got none of my money back—about a fortnight afterwards I was taken to the station, and I at once picked out
the prisoner from fourteen men—he followed me about for a full hour on that afternoon—I have no doubt that he is the man.
JAMES SIMPSON . I met Orchard on 21st January and went to the Blue Posts with him—the prisoner and another man came in after us—Orchard and I went about from one place to another for about an hour; the prisoner followed us all the way—I gave him 3 1/2 d. at the Blue Posts to get a drink—at the City Arms half a pint of rum was called for, and he took it off the counter and put it in his pocket—he followed us then for about 300 yards, and then knocked Orchard into a passage—I saw them on the ground and pulled the prisoner off, and he got away—Orchard said he had robbed him—I could not see how the prisoner hurt Orchard because it was so dark in the passage, but Orchard's back was hurt—I went next door and got him some water—I think the prisoner walked away, but I cannot say, because I was looking after Orchard—I next saw the prisoner on 23rd January at the Police-station and picked him out from seven men—I have known him by sight for fifteen or sixteen years; I believe he is a dock labourer—I have no doubt he is the man—Orchard's spine was hurt; he was in great pain.
ALBERT HEPWORTH (716 K) About 4.50 p.m. on 21st January I was on duty at the West India Dock gates—I saw Orchard, Simpson, the prisoner and two other men—I knew the prisoner before by sight—there was a disturbance on an omnibus between Orchard and other men, and the prisoner came and took my number as he said "Just to satisfy the old man," meaning the prosecutor—the prisoner and Orchard went in the direction of Millwall—I have no doubt about the identity of the prisoner; at 9 o'clock I received information of the robbery, and gave a description of the prisoner and another man—on 23rd January, about 9 o'clock I was at the Limehouse station, when the prisoner walked in and said, "Am I wanted, Boss?"—I said, "Yes, Patsy" (that is the name he has round the corner), "for highway robbery with violence on Monday evening, after you left me with that fireman"—he said, "I was down at Millwall looking for a job all day, and I can get men to prove it"—afterwards he said, "I was in bed all day till 3.30"—again he said that he was in bed till 7.30—I reminded him of his taking my number on the Monday shortly before five, and he said, "Not me, you have made a mistake"—he was charged—he said, "Thank you."
JAMES COX (260 K) On 21st January I was on duty in Westferry Road—I saw Orchard, the prisoner, and other men go into the City Arms—I have known the prisoner for about six years; he works at the docks.
FLORENCE BLEASBY . I am a barmaid at the Blue Posts, West India Dock Road—on 21st January, between five and six, I saw Orchard with another man and the prisoner in that public-house—I had seen the prisoner before as a customer, not frequently—he was just behind Orchard in the public-house on this day—it was about five, I am not certain of the time—I afterwards went to the station and picked out the prisoner—I am quite sure he is the man.
GEORGE LAMBERT (Sergeant K) On 23rd January I saw the prisoner at Limehouse station directly after he came there—I told him he answered the description of a man wanted for highway robbery, and he would be detained on suspicion—he said, "I heard two policemen had been asking for me, so I came to see if I was wanted. I was in bed all
day Monday till 5.30, when I got up, had my tea, and went across to the lodging-house opposite, and I stayed till 6.30 next morning; and I am entirely innocent of this, and I was not near the Blue Posts or the Two Bridges all day on the Monday"—I put the prisoner with six men from the Salvation Army shelter close by, and Simpson picked him out at once—he said, "I have known him for years"—the prisoner said, "I don't think you gave me a fair chance; they all looked cold, and I looked hot and red, and they were not dressed like me"—they were all men about his height; they were rough-looking men, about the same as the prisoner—all the other witnesses picked out the prisoner at the Police-court without hesitation.
The prisoner called
MICHAEL WELSH . I am a blacksmith's labourer, living at 11, St. Ann's Street, Limehouse—I am the prisoner's brother—on 21st January I went out to work at 6 a.m., leaving the prisoner in bed—when I came home at 5.25 p.m. I found him in bed—we are both single and occupy one room together—I lit the fire and put the kettle on, and went across to a lodging-house and called a little boy to go for a few things for me—my brother got up before I went out—about 5.40 we started to have tea—about 6.20 I had finished my tea, and I threw myself on the bed and slept for about an hour—my brother had not finished his tea then—when I awoke my brother had gone out—I went across to the common lodging-house about 7.30—I found the prisoner there talking to the night watchman—I told him of a job for next morning—I said, "Don't be long out, because I am going to bed"—I went to bed between 7.30 and eight—I did not see the prisoner again till 5.30 next morning, when I saw him at the lodging-house; he did not come home that night.
Cross-examined. On 21st January I was at work at M'Gowan's in Poplar, about twenty minutes' walk from St. Ann's Road—I left off work at five, and walked straight home—I am always home before the half-hour unless I stop anywhere—I first heard of this charge on the Wednesday—I cannot say why my brother should sleep at the lodging-house on this night—I did not ask him—I cannot say where he slept—I had not been indoors five minutes when half-past five went by the bell at Johnson's factory—the prisoner was then in bed undressed—I was out of the room about six or seven minutes—when I came back he was sitting by the fire in his shirt sleeves with no boots on—he was out of work at this time; he had done nothing for two or three days.
MRS. TERRY. I live at 1, St. Ann's Street, and am the wife of John Terry, a labourer—I have known the prisoner about six or seven years—I have done his washing since his mother died, not quite twelve months ago—on 21st January, about four p.m., I went upstairs to his place to get their two shirts to wash, and I found the prisoner asleep on the bed—about 5.10 p.m. the same day I went up to return a large pan that I had borrowed to boil a piece of ham in—I put it under the cable in the room, and the prisoner lifted up his head, as I was going out of the room, and I said, "It is only me, Dan"—he was still in bed.
Cross-examined. I go at any time I please to fetch the things to wash; sometimes I go on Monday, never on Saturday—I generally clean their place on Saturday—I had borrowed the pan on the Sunday to cook my dinner—I heard on the Wednesday that the prisoner had gone and
given himself up; and I heard the day on which the robbery was committed, and I remembered it was that day that I had seen him in bed—I know it was 5.10 when I took up the pan, because of a very old timepiece on the mantelpiece, which had gone five—I looked at the clock, because I knew my husband would be in soon, and I cannot get out when he and my children come in—I live four or five doors from the prisoner, and ten or fifteen minutes' walk from the Blue Posts in Westferry Road—I am certain about the day—I was never locked up—I once had a row, and got fined half-a-crown or three days.
JAMES WEBB . I live at 23, St. Ann's Place, Limehouse—I am a labourer—on 21st January I saw the prisoner in the lodging-house where I live in St. Ann's Street, between seven and 7.30—I went to bed there at eleven o'clock, and the prisoner was there all the time—he was playing coddam to pass the time—there was no money about—I did not see him with any money that night—I did not give evidence at the Police-court.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months Hard Labour.
MR. MOSES Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
After the prisoner had been given in charge to the JURY she stated that she desired to plead guilty, whereupon the JURY found her
Her late mistress undertook to keep her for a time, and then send her back to her parents. Discharged on Recognisances.
JOHN DEEKS . I live at the Rising Sun public-house, 61, Carter Lane—I have known the prisoner since 1892—in January, 1894, I took the Bricklayers' Arms, and agreed with the prisoner that he should manage it, and he went into it in January, 1894—before he went in I applied to the Gas Light and Coke Company for gas to be laid on; and I signed this agreement, by which I undertook to pay a deposit of £6, and the charges for the meter, gas, and so on—I paid the £6 to the company the next day, and got this receipt, which I have kept ever since—I told the prisoner the same day that I had paid the deposit—he stayed in the house till September, 1894, when he closed it by my authority, because it did not pay—I was managing the Rising Sun, and am still—about the time the Bricklayers' Arms was closed—about the first week in September, the prisoner came to me—I did not know his address; he said he would let me know it; but he did not—I wrote to the Gas Light and Coke Company on 19th October asking for the return of my deposit—I had no idea before I got
this answer to my letter that anyone had received it—I gave the prisoner no authority to receive my deposit or to sign my name—I did not tell him I had lost my receipt—he never gave me the £3 0s. 1d.—he never told me anything about it—I know his writing—this receipt, signed "John Deeks," is not written by me; I believe it is the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The license deeds and the mortgage of the Bricklayers' Arms were in your name, and you were responsible for holding the license—I did not ask you to dispose of the business; I told you it was for sale—you paid the rent and rates and taxes to the brewers; I gave you the money—you used to pay over to me every Monday, and then I would hand you back whatever was due—when I bought the house it was necessary to get the license transferred—I then held the license of the Wheatsheaf at Fulham, and if I had applied for the license the Magistrates would not have granted it, so it was necessary to get someone to do it, and I engaged you to do it, you having no interest in it—the broker represented the matter—the house was closed on Saturday, September 15th—I came down the next morning—I did not ask you to go and see Mr. Jones, the brewer's manager, about taking over the stock and utensils—I did not mention the £6 deposit, and ask you to have the gas taken off and the meter taken away, nor to get a statement of the gas account up to date—you had paid the gas account to the collector—you called at the Rising Sun on the Tuesday after the house was closed—I took the working utensils out of the house; there was no stock there—you asked me to fetch the bagatelle table away—I did not authorise you to dispose of it or take it away—I went for it next day, and could not get it—you did not tell me you had been to Camden Town—I gave you no authority to receive the £6, and I did not know you had received anything.
Re-examined. The prisoner showed me the gas accounts and other bills, and I gave him so much to pay them—I owed him no money at the time he left the house; he owed me some.
CECIL NEWTON ADAMS . I am a clerk in the service of the Gas Light and Coke Company, at the head office, Horseferry Road, Westminster—about 23rd September this gas account for £2 19s. 11d. was sent to Mr. John Deeks, the Bricklayers' Arms, by post—on 27th September the prisoner came to our office, and said he had come for the return of the deposit from the Bricklayers' Arms—I asked him for the deposit receipt—he said he had lost it—he had in his hand this account for £2 19s. 11d.—I referred to the ledger, and found that was the account for the Bricklayers' Arms—I said he would have to sign an indemnity form—I made out this form, and I asked him if he was the Deeks who had signed the contract, and he said he was—I saw him sign this "John Deeks"—I handed it to the cashier.
ARTHUR COLEMAN . I am a cashier in the service of the Gas Light and Coke Company, Horseferry Road—on 27th September I was present when the prisoner came to our office, and had a conversation with Adams, who afterwards handed over to me this indemnity form—I gave a receipt for £2 19s. 11d. to the prisoner and £3 0s. 1d. in cash, the balance of the deposit—I gave him back the gas account he had brought—I believed when I gave him the money that he was the Mr. Deeks, or that he had authority to receive the money, or I should not have done so.
prisoner's arrest, and arrested him on 26th January at 32, Romburgh Road, Upper Tooting—I said, "I believe your name is William Halls?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am a police officer, and shall arrest you on a warrant for forgery"—he made no answer—I read the warrant to him—he said, "Yes, I did go and get the money. Mr. Deeks told me to go. I got it in his name. I asked him to let me keep the money because I was out of work, and Mr. Deeks said it would do later on. I asked him to give me a note of hand, but he would not do so"—I thought by "note of hand" he meant an authority in writing to draw the money—his father-in-law was there—he gave me four papers out of a black bag; one is the account for £2 19s. 11d., another the receipt for that amount, another the demand that the contract for the supply of gas and the payment of the, £6 deposit shall be signed, and the last a copy of the contract.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that the license, and the deeds, and the mortgage of the house were all in his name, and that he was responsible for it; and that Mr. Deeks had authorised him to draw the deposit from the gas company, and to use his name.
J. DEEKS (Re-examined by the COURT). The mortgage, and the deeds, and all the documents relating to the house were in the prisoner's name with my sanction, the brewers would not do it without—he had not a particle of pecuniary interest in the house—it was for the purpose of deceiving the Magistrates—I paid the deposit.
The COMMON SERJEANT intimated that as the prosecutor had been a party to a gross fraud for the purpose of deliberately deceiving the Magistrates, it became a question whether the JURY would believe him. The JURY here stated that they found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
No evidence was offered by MR. HUMPHREYS for the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, February 26th, 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
GUILTY .— To enter into recognisances in £20 each to come up for judgment when called upon.
243. ALFRED JAMES PARKER (32) and THOMAS WILLIAMS (18) , Breaking into the warehouse of William Moering and others, and stealing a cashbox and other goods, their property, Williams having been before convicted.
WILLIAMS PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. KYD Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended PARKER.
PARKER— GUILTY **—He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Newington in November, 1888— Three Years' Penal Servitude each.
244. THOMAS RIGHT (48) PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Gale; and stealing four saws, nine planes, and other tools, the property of Henry Gale, also to three other indictments for stealing tools.— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
246. JAMES NORTON , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Montague John Peters, and stealing 4s. 3 3/4 d., the property of Wilfred and Sons, Limited.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Discharged on recognizances.
247. STAMFORD SMITH (30) , to two indictments for forging and uttering two orders for the payment of £10 each, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eight Months' Hard Labour. And
MR. BRUCE Prosecuted.
EDWARD SHARP . I am a coffee-house keeper at 490, Bethnal Green Road—a little before 12 a. m. on February 21st the prisoner came in and ordered a pint of tea, three slices, and two eggs—they were supplied—he refused to pay—he said he had only twopence—I said, "Pay me twopence, and I'll let you off the other threepence"—he said he had not any money, and went out—a constable outside stopped him—I do not give credit—I supply goods only for ready money—I did not give the prisoner credit.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You left the eggs and eat the slices and drank the tea—there was no carman with a van outside; none are allowed.
ANNIE LOO . I served the prisoner—he said, "A pint of tea, three slices and two eggs"—that would be 5d.—I saw him eat the slices and drink the tea—I asked him for the money—he said he wanted to go out and speak to a man—I said, "No, give me the money first"—he said, "All right, wait for a minute," and went out—I followed him—he appeared to be going to strike me—I saw a constable, and said, "I shall call the constable"—he said, "I've got twopence"—I said, "Pay that, and I'll let you go"—he said, "No, I'll get the twopence"—then he said he had not got any money, and the governor sent for a constable.
The prisoner in his defence said that he had come from the heat of India, Where he had served as a soldier, and being overcome by the cold, he staggered into the shop and called for the food, but he did not know whether the cold made him do this.
GUILTY .* He then pleaded guilty to a conviction of obtaining goods by false pretences at Clerkenwell in August 1894, in the name of Henry Jacques. Two similar convictions were proved against him. Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. C. H. SMITH Prosecuted.
13th December, the prisoner, who was with a female friend in the street, said as I was coming out of the house, "You can't say my mother has not been in your place," and threatened to break my nose—Gardner came up and I sent for Driscoll; they commenced fighting—Kelly went upstairs and came down with this hammer (produced), and made two or three blows at Driscoll's head—Driscoll sent for a constable, and Gardner and Kelly tried to tear me to pieces—I gave evidence on 13th December.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not spit in your face, nor pull your hair—I was not accused of stealing the hammer—I did not threaten to round on you about a watch—I know nothing about a serge dress—I was not with Driscoll and Gardner with the hammer in my hand—I do not think you and I have passed two words together—your mother was not there—your baby was upstairs.
GEORGE HUGHES . Driscoll and Gardner were fighting in the passage near the door when Kelly fetched something from downstairs and hit Driscoll—a young lady asked me, and I took him to the hospital—I saw something in Kelly's hand.
By the COURT. There was a squabble between Kelly and Mrs. Smith, and Miller said Gardner wanted to illuse her—I said, "You are big enough to take your own part"—Gardner wanted to fight—I did not answer—he said, "I'm ready"—I came back, and we fought in the passage.
ERNEST WILLIAM CROSS . I am a house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital—Driscoll was brought in on 13th December suffering from a compound fracture of the skull—there was a wound nearly an inch long, and the skull under it was depressed and fractured—it was necessary to perform an operation at once—he was in serious danger when he came in—I asked him how he had done it, and he said he fell downstairs, but the surgeon who performed the operation said it looked more as if it had been done by a blunt instrument—I think this hammer is likely to have done it—I do not think it could have been caused by a blow from the fist.
GEORGE ALLEN (292 G). I was called about 5.30 p.m. on 13th December, and arrested the prisoner—she said, "Do you want me, governor?"—I said, "Yes, for assaulting the man Driscoll"—she said, "It was not me, it was the stout woman," meaning Miller—I said she must come with me to the station—she went with me—she made no reply to the charge.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I went upstairs before I took you—your baby was on the bed, and when I returned with Miller you were outside with your baby in your arms—I was not present at the assault.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I came downstairs on Thursday, 13th December, and Rosetta Miller challenged me to fight, and spat in my face and pulled my hair and nose. I did not retaliate. She then said she would fetch two men, and John Gardner and two or three men came between us and parted us. I went upstairs. I do not know how Driscoll was hurt, but I saw Rosetta Miller with a hammer in her hand when the men were fighting."
The prisoner called
ELLEN KELLY . Mrs. Miller was pulling your hair, and I loosed her hands—Miller and my daughter were at the door jangling at 4.30—they had been jangling the whole week—at five they were still jangling, and Miller challenged my daughter to fight, and told her to put the baby out of her arms, but she said, "I will not, a big giant like you is big enough to eat a little thing like me," and she spat in my daughters face—I said, "It is time to look for a policeman"—I went everywhere to find one, but could not, and when I came hack they were jangling just the same—then Miller halloed out for her Denis, and they all rushed in the passage together, but what was done in the passage nobody could see—Miller ran out with a hammer in her hand—I strangled the hammer out of her hand; she being a stronger young woman, and she was running after my daughter, when a boy took the hammer and gave it to a policeman—then Miller was charged, and then Miller was left out, and my daughter was charged.
NOT GUILTY .
251. GEORGE NEIL SIMONS (72) and THOMAS WILES (32) , Feloniously breaking into the warehouse of Albert Sheffield, and stealing a basket, two bradawls, and other goods, the property of Robert Groves, and other tools of other persons.
MR. T. E. MORRIS Prosecuted.
ROBERT GROVES . I live at 37, New Street, Bromley—I work for Mr. Sheffield at 19, Wilson Street—it is a look-up building, not connected with any house-when I left the-building on 12th February at 4.30 my tools were all safe—these are my tools; my name is on this plane—when I came in the morning they were gone—I missed five planes, two saws, a brace and bits, some irons, chisels, a hammer, a square, screwdriver, template, compasses, and a basket, and so on—I saw them at the Police-court in the possession of the police.
THOMAS REYNOLDS . I am a carpenter, of 16 Brunswick Road Bromley—I worked at 19, Wilson Street—on 12th February I left the shop at 6 30 p m—I left a jack plane, a stencil, and other things—I missed them the next morning—these are them (produced).
THOMAS ALFRED PORTER . I am a carpenter, of 13, Newman Road, Plaistow—I work at Mr. Sheffield's—on 12th February I left at 4.30 p.m.—these tools were safe—I missed them next morning—three screws, a mallet, a pair of pincers, four irons, and other tools—their value is £4 12s.
JAMES MEHCER . I am a painter, of 7 North Street, Poplar—I work at Mr. Sheffield's—I left at 4.30 p.m. on 12th February—I went in with, the manager in the morning, and found things all over the place, and plumbers' brasswork, and joiners' tools, and a varnish-pot upon the bench ready to be carried away—I missed a knife and apron—the knife was valued at 1s.
JAMES DAVIS (223 K) On 20th February, about 10.45, I was on duty in the East India Dock Road, regulating the traffic on the iron. bridge—I saw Wiles coming towards Poplar carrying a sack on his left shoulder—when he caught sight of me he turned back—I pursued him, and caught him at the corner of Abbott Road—I asked him what he had in the sack—he said "I have some tools that the old man gave me to take to my
brother's to build a shed in the back yard"—I opened the bag, which was fastened with a strap, and saw these planes and two saws—I said, "They are funny tools to build a shed with. I shall take you into custody for unlawful possession of these tools"—he said, "Don't show me up; have half-a-pint of beer, it will be a long time before I get another"—I took him to the station, and went with Detective Burton to 17, Dale Road, the residence he had given me of the old man, Captain Simons—I asked Simons whether he had given him the tools—he said, "Yes, I gave a man named Wiles some tools"—I asked him whether he had any more tools in the house—he said, "No"—I said we should search the place—we searched and found two bags of tools in the bedroom supposed to be occupied by Wiles—I asked Simons how they came there—he said he could not tell—in the kitchen we found this saw, and in a little back scullery this hammer—in the front bedroom we found this gimlet and bradawl and several things relating to a burglary in the East India Dock Road, which Barton identified—we took Simons to the station, where he was detained—some tools and a clock on the mantelpiece Simons said were his—it was a very bad timepiece; it wanted to be shaken before it could be made to go—that was identified by Mr. Tozer, of 9, East India Dock Road—at the station Wiles said the old man was innocent, and Simons said he was innocent—the vest Wiles was wearing was identified, and his shirt and the handkerchief he had round his neck and the boots he was wearing as the proceeds of a burglary in the East India Dock Road.
Cross-examined by Simons. The saw was lying on the kitchen table when we searched.
GEORGE BARTON (Detective K) I accompanied Davis to 17, Dale Road—what Davis has said is correct—Simons objected to the search without a search warrant—I told him the property found had been identified as stolen, and I should search him—I took him to the station, went back, and under the bed in the little room found two bags of tools relating to another charge, and a lot of other things.
Cross-examined by Simons. I said, "Are you Mr. Simons?"—you said "Yes," and I asked, "Have you given a man any tools this morning?"—I asked if a man named Wiles lived there, and you said "Yes"—the hammer was identified.
Re-examined. There was another hammer at the station not identified.
HENRY NEWALL . I am foreman for Mr. Sheffield—I left the workshop on 12th February about five p.m.; everything was safe—I fastened the doors—one locks and one bolts—outside the workshop is a yard with gates leading to the street—that is padlocked, and there is a wicket gate fastened with a smaller lock—all fastenings were secure—about 7.10 next morning I found the gates as I had left them, and the shop door as well—that is fastened with a lock—builders' stock was strewn about the place, and tools taken out of the cupboards where we generally keep them, and joiners' tools were missing, and the painters' store door was taken off the hinges, and a varnish pot from the painters' shop was left on the bench—most of the plumbers' solder was carried off—I sent the man who followed me in to the Police-station—I had not seen the prisoners before to my knowledge.
the place—the foreman showed me how he found the doors, which he had fastened—it was possible to get over the gate and drop into the yard—there were no marks on the doors—I examined carefully, and I believe the thieves must have entered with a false key—I know nothing of them—there was great disorder in the shop when I entered.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate: Simons says, "I am perfectly innocent of breaking into Wilson Street, and I am innocent of receiving any articles." Wiles says, "Simons is innocent."
Simons produced a written defence, stating that he met with Wiles, and introduced him to friends as his nephew to get him work, but he knew nothing wrong of him, and he could not tell what tools he had; he had told him not to bring any more rubbish, as he had enough of his own, but he was his first, and would be his last lodger.
Wiles also produced a written defence. stating that Simons tried to get him work, and he took some tools to Simons's room as his own was lumbered up, and none of the tools identified were found out of his own room.
SIMONS— NOT GUILTY . WILES— GUILTY .** He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in December, 1893.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
No evidence was offered.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. C. HILL Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH EDGINGTON . I live at 23, Queensland Road, Holloway—on Thursday, February 21st, I came in at one o'clock, and waited by the fire for my landlady—Blake walked out as if to go to bed, but she returned, and struck me in the face with a knife—my landlady came in, and was there when it happened—she told me to fetch a policeman, which I did, and he took her to the station—I accompanied her—I had my head dressed by the doctor—I was seated before the fire when the prisoner came in—not a word passed between us when I went into the kitchen.
HENRY WILMOT (271 Y). The prosecutrix came tome bleeding from her face—she made a communication, and I went to 23, Queensland Road, and took the prisoner—I entered in my book at the time what she said: "I have done it for revenge for her biting my ear three weeks ago, because I would not steal a silk handkerchief from a fancy man of hers. I do not deny cutting her. I did mean to cut her eye out"—in the station-house she said: "I was sitting drying some things for my landlady when she came in and said, 'I'll warm my hands and b—my enemies; I'll warm my feet and b—my enemies,' and I said 'I think you mean that for me. Your enemy, after not charging you for biting me?' and I went and took a knife and sharpened it on a stone and came in. I meant to do for her and would have cut her to pieces, only too many came on me. I wish I had another cut at her; I could have died if I had killed her"—I entered that at the time—this is the knife—I obtained it from the room at the time.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. ,
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, February 27th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
MR. LEVER Prosecuted and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
CHARLES DUNLOP (410 H). On 21st January, about a quarter past ten p.m., I was in Mile End Road in company with 409 H, when I saw an old woman crossing the road from north to south in a diagonal fashion she was suddenly knocked down by a knacker's cart driven by the prisoner—there are two tram lines in the road, and she was in about the centre of the near-side tram line—I should say she was struck by the step of the cart, but I could not say—she was between me and the cart—the cart went over her—I directed 409 to go to her assistance—I shouted out twice to the driver to stop, and he then pulled up within about fifty or sixty yards—when I first shouted he was about twenty yards from the woman—he got down from the cart—I asked him if he knew what he had done—he said, "The b—old fool should have got out of the way"—it was a two-wheeled cart laden with cooked horse flesh—it was a biggish horse—there was no light on the cart—I should say it was going at a pace of about eight or nine miles an hour—I asked the prisoner for his name and address—he said, "Why should I give it?"—I then noticed that he was drunk—I asked him to come back to where the woman lay—he said "You had better get someone else"—a private individual pulled the horse round, and the prisoner came back with me to where the woman was lying—he was very obstinate, and very indifferent—he said, "I want to see the old woman, and if I don't see her I shan't go to the station"—she was then being got into a cab, and I took him to the station—on the way he was very violent, and we had great difficulty in getting him to the station; he used most filthy and insulting language—he was charged with being drunk, and with manslaughter—in answer he only said, "Thanks."
Cross-examined. He was seen by the divisional surgeon; he is not here—I first saw the cart as I was walking along, but I did not take any notice of it till I saw the woman knocked down—it was on its right side of the way—it was going eight or nine miles an hour; I said so before the Magistrate—I might have said "Seven, more or less"—the road was very clear at the time, there were no other vehicles near—the road was perfectly firm, not greasy or sticky—the prisoner did not tell me he had come from Stratford, I found it out afterwards—there was seven or eight hundredweight of meat in the cart—I did not hear him shout out "Hi! hi!"—the woman might have run against the step—the road was not dark—I was on one side of the road, and she was on the other; I did not get a clear view because the horse was between us.
Re-examined. There were plenty of people up and down the road, and crossing in various parts, but not near.
HENRY DESSANT (409 H). I was with Dunlop on this evening—I heard a cry, and saw the woman lying in the centre of the tram lines, and a horse and cart driven by the prisoner four or five yards from her—I sent for a cab, and put the woman in, and took her to the hospital—she died there—the prisoner was brought back by Dunlop—he seemed very excited, and smelt very strongly of drink—I should say he was drunk—he seemed very unsteady in his walk.
Cross-examined. I know this road well—eight miles an hour would not be a swift pace to drive a cart there at half-past ten at night—I should not stop a man at that pace—the road was hard, not slippery—there was no ice or snow, it had been cleared away—the road was perfectly clear of traffic—the Paragon Music Hall was open—I did not see any persons crossing the road near.
GEORGE CROW (Sergeant J). I saw a crowd and the woman lying on the roadway, and the prisoner was there—he said "What are you going to take me to the station for, for being drunk?"—Dunlop asked him to go to the station—he became very violent—he was drunk, and used filthy language.
ALEXANDER LAUGHLIN . I live at 43, Leathermill Street, Globe Road—on 21st January, about half-past ten, I was in the Mile End Road—I heard a shout from the carman, and saw the woman swerve and fall, and the cart wheel went over her—I think she was struck by the horse's feet—the cart was going about eight miles an hour, not more—it stopped between thirty and forty yards from where the woman fell—I went up at the time and gave my name, as he was not driving furiously—the constable said he was drunk—the prisoner said, "I don't think I am, am I?"—and I said, "No"—he walked straight enough, and spoke reasonably enough.
Cross-examined. Like a sober man, he did not stagger about—I am an entire stranger—I said at the Police-court that it was an accident as far as I could judge—I say so now.
Re-examined. When I heard the shout I looked round sharp, and saw the cart four or five yards off, and the woman directly in front of it—she was going in an angle in the same direction as the cart, so to speak, meeting the cart.
SARAH BATTY . I live at 23, Wellcot Street, Bethnal Green—on 21st January I was with the deceased, Maria Stewart, between five and ten minutes past ten—when she left me she was quite sober; I saw her at the hospital the same night, dead.
Cross-examined. She was seventy-three; she had lodged with me about twelve months—this was the first night I had allowed her to cross the road by herself—she had a sort of film on her right eye, which at times prevented her seeing well when her head was bad, and she was rather deaf of the right ear—we had been together that evening to a tea and entertainment, and I had just left her.
LOUISA STEWART . The deceased was my sister-in-law—at the time of this occurrence she was in her ordinary state of health—she had had a had cold, but was recovering from it—she was rather deaf; she could read without glasses—she complained sometimes of one of her eyes.
post-mortem examination—the injuries were in three parts of the body; there was a gash on the right side of the forehead, I think caused by a fall, a ragged hole on the left cheek and the jaw broken, the right eye crushed, and four ribs broken, the liver torn, and the spleen, and there was large bleeding of the abdomen—she had died of those injuries. The prisoner received a good character from his employer. NOT GUILTY .
MR. KYD Prosecuted, and MR. GRANTHAM Defended at the request of the,
THOMAS HILL . I live at 2, Kent Place, North Wharf Road, Paddington—on Saturday, 2nd February, at ten minutes to twelve, I was in the Royal Oak public-house—Charles Taylor, Thomas Twynan, Mrs. Taylor, and Mrs. Thompson were there—the prisoner came in and said to Taylor, "Come on, Charlie, fight me now"—he pulled him outside and struck him, and he fell—he could not move; he was breathing very hard—I helped to carry him home.
Cross-examined. I had been in the house about twenty minute—Taylor was not there five minutes—he only had a tonic there—he might have been in other public-houses—I don't suppose he was as sober as I was; he might have been drunk for all I know—the prisoner was not drunk—the prisoner's brother Elijah and his wife were outside when I went out—Taylor was no sooner outside the door than the prisoner struck him in the face, and he fell back.
THOMAS TWYNAN . I am a carman, of 55, Devonshire Street, Lisson Grove—on this Saturday night I was in the Royal Oak about ten minutes to twelve—Taylor was there—I heard somebody say there was a fight outside—I went out and saw Elijah Thompson—Taylor was lying on the ground, and the prisoner was standing over him, saying, "Get up and fight me now, or I will kick your b—brains out"—I did not see him do anything—I saw no blow struck.
JAMES COSSIN . I am a night watchman and horse-keeper, of 19, North Wharf Road—on Saturday night, 2nd February, about twelve, I was standing opposite the Royal Oak; I saw the prisoner and his brother come up—the brother slipped off his coat, and the prisoner went to the door of the Royal Oak; he did not go inside—Taylor put his head outside the door, and he had no sooner done so than the prisoner took hold of him with one hand, and knocked him down with the other—he fell sideways on the pavement, and after he was down I saw the prisoner kick at him; I don't know whether he kicked him or not—I was too far off, twenty yards off, across the road.
Cross-examined. The deceased came to the door, and the prisoner pulled him out—I was standing right opposite the door.
LOUISA DAVIS . I am the wife of Charles Davis, of 18, Suffolk Street, Lisson Grove—Charles Taylor was my stepson—on Saturday, 2nd February, Taylor and his wife called on me about seven—he did not go out again—about nine the prisoner and his wife came in and sat down—Taylor said something to me not concerning the prisoner, but the prisoner got up, and they had a tussle round the room, and they fell, and the prisoner struck his nose against the bedstead—he got up and said he
would do for my son before the night was over—as well as I could I made peace between them, but he still persisted in saying he would do for my son before the night was over, and he would fetch his brother Elijah to do so—his nose was bleeding—my son said, "Come and have a drink," and we went to the Cornish Arms—I got some plaster for his nose, but he still repeated his threats, and said his brother would just about flatten him out—I said, "Now, George, don't have any more words," and we all came out—I heard no more till my husband came and told me that my son was dead—I went and saw him dead on his bed.
Cross-examined. I never heard that my son and the prisoner had often had little rows—after the scuffle that evening they made friends together.
HANNAH TAYLOR . The deceased was my husband—on this Saturday night I went with him to call on Mrs. Davis—the prisoner and his wife were there; my husband spoke to his mother, not concerning the prisoner at all, but the prisoner got up and struck my husband—they had a few words in the room and afterwards a tussle in the passage, and I heard the prisoner say that he would do for my husband before the night was out—the mother made peace between them—the prisoner said he would do no more to him himself, but he would bring his brother Elijah to do for him before the night was out—my husband and I then left and went to the Royal Oak—while there the prisoner looked in at the door and said, "Charlie, I want you"—he went out—I remained a few minutes, and when I went out I saw my husband down on the pavement—he was brought home by Hill and Happy, and the doctor came and saw him—he was dead.
Cross-examined. I had not been with him in the day—he had had a glass or two—the prisoner and my husband had known each other some little time—I did not know of their having rows.
ELIJAH THOMPSON . The prisoner is ray brother—on this Saturday night I met him about half-past eleven; his face was smothered in blood, and he had some sticking plaster on it—on our way home we passed the Royal Oak—he looked in and Taylor came out—as he came out he slipped and fell on his face—my brother did nothing to him—I did not offer to tight him—my wife was there; she did not drag me away.
Cross-examined. Taylor was the worse for drink when he came out, and I was four or five feet away—I could see quite well what went on—directly Taylor came out he fell to the ground without being struck by anybody.
AMOS WADDON (Inspector). On Sunday morning, 3rd February, at 1.20, from information, I went to No. 7, North Wharf Road, and saw the deceased lying on a bed, apparently dead—the prisoner was there, and Mrs. Davis—she said to the prisoner, "You scoundrel! You said you would do for my son, and you have killed him"—I cautioned him—he made no reply—Mrs. Davis kept on saying this, and he said, "You are drunk; you don't know what you are talking about"—shortly after the doctor came and examined the deceased, and said he was dead.
ALFRED TAYLOR SCHOFIELD . I am surgeon to the F Division, and practice at 141, Westbourne Terrace, Hyde Park—on 3rd February, about half-past one, I was called to see Charles Taylor, and found him tying on the bed—I examined him, and found one small wound on the
left temple, no other injury—there were no marks of blood anywhere; neither where he was lying on the bed, nor where he fell—I examined the place immediately afterwards—he died of a broken neck—there was a dislocation of the spinal cord—death arose from that cause alone—I examined for apoplexy, but found no sign—a blow or a fall might have been the cause, more probably a blow.
Cross-examined. I could not tell whether he had been drinking recently—he had been dead about an hour, or an hour and a half—there was a small amount of fluid in the stomach, probably beer—he had a pale, sodden-looking face—a fall on the pavement would have caused death.
By the COURT. The wound on the temple was very small indeed, about half an inch in diameter; it produced a little extravasation of blood under the scalp, but no fracture—it was more than a bruise; it was a wound—the skin was removed—it was a recent wound, quite fresh—the body was warm and stiff.
LOUISA DAVIS (Recalled). I saw the wound on the left temple when my son was lying on the bed—there was no such wound when we were at the Cornish Arms, at ten o'clock—I recollect his having a struggle with his brother John Davis some months ago—John took up a pail, but he did not strike him with it—on this night, about nine, there was a struggle between the prisoner and Taylor in the passage—the prisoner was kneeling on his chest, and I pulled him off; that was after the prisoner's nose was cut—there were two struggles, one in the passage and one in the room—the blow the prisoner struck my son left no mark that I could see—I don't suppose it was a very soft blow; I should not have liked it.
GUILTY . Several convictions of assault on the police were proved against the prisoner.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. BODKIN Prosecuted.
THOMAS CHESTER . I live at 27, Wastdale Road, Forest Hill, and am a poulterer's assistant—I was employed in Leadenhall Market—I never had any conversation, or anything to do with the prisoner—on January 17th I was in the market—I had not spoken to Cole that day—I bought some rabbits, and had just put them into a cart in the market, and was turning away from the cart when the prisoner came up and stabbed me in the stomach, and said, "Take that, you b—; I am not dead yet!"—I called out, "I am stabbed!"—I went away because he came after me a second time to stab me in the back—a constable stopped him and took the knife from him—I know nothing about the prisoner or his wife—I was taken to the hospital, and I remained there till 16th February—while I was giving evidence at the Mansion House the prisoner said he had made a mistake in the man, and afterwards he said to me, "Oh! you b—."
saw the prisoner in Leadenliall Place surrounded by a crowd, and Chester was there—I took the prisoner into custody—he held this knife in his left hand—I seized his wrist, and after a little trouble got it from him—on the way to the station he said, "He is only fit for butcher's meat," referring to Chester—he also said that he had been subject to annoyance from the prosecutor for the past eight months in spreading rumours regarding him and his wife; that the prosecutor had given his own wife a bad disorder, and that in consequence of these rumours he was unable to obtain employment—he said that when he had been at the workhouse they called him a dirty dog, and jeered at him after be had been there about an hour—he was taken to the station and charged—a constable went with Chester to the station—when that constable returned he said to me, "The knife has gone about six inches"—the prisoner said, "Not six, not above three; he has got a lot of clothes on"—he appeared to be sober.
EDWARD FRANCIS HARDENBERG , M.R.C.S., I am house surgeon at Guy's Hospital—Chester was brought there on the evening of the 17th January, and remained there sixteen days—I examined him—he had an incised wound about one and a half inches long, and two and a half inches deep, in front of the abdomen—it was a dangerous wound—it opened up the abdominal cavity—he afterwards got out of danger, and he is now able to follow his occupation.
WILLIAM COLE . I live at 123, Lefevre Road, Bow—I know the prisoner by sight—I have seen him standing out of the Grand Avenue, Leadenhall Market—on January 17th I was at Leadenhall Market—I was not speaking to Chester between six and seven p.m.—I was at home at two—I have never said anything about the prisoner or his wife—I did not know anything about them.
SIDNEY JOHN BLIGHT . I assist my father, an ironmonger, at 71, High Street, Whitechapel—on the morning of January 17th, the prisoner came and bought this knife—I asked him if he would have a boxwood or rosewood handle—he said he preferred a brown handle because it did not show the blood.
ELI SALTER COLLINS (City Inspector). I was in charge of Seething Lane Station on the evening of January 17th, when the prisoner was charged—after reading over the charge he made this statement, which I took down; "I settled him, because I believed he had something to do with the troubles between my wife and I, and he said when I passed there this morning to Will Cole, the porter, 'Is he not dead yet?' and both looked over at me."
GEORGE EDWARD RODMAN . I am the prisoner's brother, and live at 7B, George Square, Hoxton—the prisoner is a married man—he has had a great deal of domestic trouble of late years—he has not lived with his wife for about twelve months—for the last ten months he has been very strange in his behaviour, and he has come to me and told me men and women have been following him about for the purpose of taking his life, and poisoning him, and he had challenged ten and twenty men to come and fight him—it is all imaginary, I think—he never mentioned the name of Chester to me—my grandmother died in St. Luke's Work house, mad—my mother was not mad, but she was very excitable.
Prison, Holloway—the prisoner first came under my observation on January 18th—I have had him in the hospital ever since, and have examined him very frequently—all the time he has been under my observation he has complained of pains in his head—he has slept very badly at night; the pupils of his eyes have been unequal, and he has had Hallucinations of hearing—the first three weeks in the hospital he fancied he heard voices at night calling him—he used to describe what they said—for the past fortnight those voices have disappeared, and his mental condition seems to have slightly improved—he had undoubted delusions—he stated to me that Chester, whom he stabbed, he considered was employing a gang of men and paying them to annoy him, and that these men had gone to the lodgings where he lived and made statements about horrible conduct he had been guilty of to his wife, and daughter, and mother-in-law, and also made attempts to poison him, and had put ether into his room to stupefy him, and put poison into the food he took on two or three occasions, and that he had overheard certain observations which had been made by a man who was speaking to Chester, that led him to believe that the gang was in the pay of Chester—he said he could tell these men had been attempting to poison him by a peculiar sensation that came over him; he had lost power in his legs, and become giddy, and a peculiar smell, like that of rotten onions, came into his nose—from my observation and examination of him I consider he is at the present time decidedly insane—I examined him yesterday, and all the delusions he had when I first examined him still exist with regard to his persecution—I should say he was not sane on 17th January, and that he was unaccountable for his actions—I thought he was capable of understanding this trial.
By the COURT. I do not think he was in a state of mind to consider whether he was acting rightly or wrongly—I think he was not capable of realising the character of his act—I think he knew that using a knife would produce death or a serious wound, but I don't suppose he was in a condition to consider whether it was right or wrong to do that—he was merely acting under the delusion that the man was going to kill him—I think it was anirrational act done under the delusion that the person he was about to strike would injure him if he did not get rid of him; I think he thought that the person would kill him if he did not kill him first—he was capable of thinking that, and that it was desirable to get rid of him, and that a knife would be the best way of doing it—I think, if he had thought it out first, he would have known it was wrong to do that—I think he was capable, if he had attempted it, of realising that the law does not allow a person to stab another against whom he has a private grievance—I am of opinion that the prisoner did realise that to use the knife on Chester would be to kill or hurt him severely, and that he felt Chester was a person against whom he had a grievance, and that he was under the delusion that he had a grievance, but that he quite understood that if he put a knife into Chester the law would punish him—I think he thought himself justified in avenging his private wrongs against Chester, and taking steps to prevent Chester annoying him in the future—if he had thought the matter out he would have known it was wrong.
The prisoner, in a written defence, complained of having been followed about and persecuted in a variety of ways by persons whom Chester had paid.
GUILTY on the Second Count, but being insane, and not responsible for his actions at the time. — To be detained as a criminal lunatic in Holloway Prison during Her Majesty's pleasure.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, February 27th, 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. A. GILL Prosecuted.
JOHN HENRY GEEHL . I am a journalist and translator, living at 31, Tavistock Place—I have made a translation of a portion of an article in the German language, which appeared in a newspaper called the Westphalian Gazette—it is correct. (This article implied that Gehlsen was of a vindictive nature, that he had the disposition to blackmail and deprive people of their honour, and that in addition to literature he carried on business transactions which were of such a doubtful nature as to be undisguishable from long firm swindles)—that is only part of the article—the paper is numbered 309—the article is just about 300 lines in length—on the 24th December I met the prisoner in Messrs. Spiers and Pond's Restaurant, in Gray's Inn Road—I was alone—I saw a Mr. Wieland there—the prisoner and myself talked about this article published in this paper—I asked him if he did not write it—he said he had had a hand in it; he had supplied some of the material—he said a Mr. Herbert Winter had written it—I said, "Mr. Herbert Winter is not believed to be in existence at all"—he said, "Certainly he is in existence, I can produce him if he is required"—I then said, "I think you must know something about it"—he said, "Yes, I had a hand in it"—he said he furnished some materials and looked through some others and marked it together—he said nothing more about his connection with the article—that is all I remember—after his arrest I was shown some documents to translate, including "D"—I made a translation of it—it purported to be signed by Herbert Winter—it was written in English—I also made a translation of a letter purporting to be signed by the editor of the Westphalian Gazette, dated the 27th November—I have got the letter in German—this is a copy of my translation—it is correct. (This letter asked the defendant for an explanation with reference to a complaint addressed by the prosecutor to the editor with reference to a former article)—I also received what purported to be an account for the same editor—I made a translation of that—I find the number of the paper over one column; lines over another column—among the numbers of the papers I find No. 309, 300 lines—there is a sum of money opposite that.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The appointment was on behalf of Gehlson on 24th December—he wanted me to intercede between you, to bring about an arrangement; that was the purport of our meeting—the articles consist of about 800 lines, out of which only 20 or 30 lines refer to Mr. Gehlson, while the other 760 or so refer to a Cologne paper and its London correspondent, Mr. Reuschel—the principal thing I have done for the last four months, besides writing a few articles for German newspapers, is making translations for Mr.
Reuschel's solicitor for an action pending in another Court—the same solicitor has taken up this case—as far as I know Gehlsen's case was first taken up by another solicitor, who had charge of it on 24th December—the solicitor acting in Reuschel's case is now acting in yours—Reuschel engaged me in the first instance to make the translations, by the recommendation of a mutual friend—my income has been partly dependent for the last three or four months on Reuschel—on 24th December this action of Gehlsen was pending against you—I never received from Gehlson a letter saying that I should not interfere with his business—I never received from Reuschel an order to see you about the other 760 lines—we spoke very often about Mr. Reuschel and his case, because we are both interested in it—you said generally that you had a hand in it; I don't know which part you referred to—you did not say it was as to those twenty lines relating to Gehlson—no lines were specially mentioned—I am quite certain you said on December 24th that you did not deny you had a hand in it—you said so also on many other occasions; that it was with relation to both articles—we were in a public bar; only we two were talking—I know Wieland now; I did not know his name before, I had seen him—I saw him at 142, Clerkenwell Road once—I heard Reuschel had been a partner there; I have no knowledge about it—I cannot say if Wieland is in Reuschel's employment—he has been there at the wine cellars—I saw Wieland in the same bar at our meeting—if I had known I should be called as a witness I should never have gone there; I am the most reluctant witness in the whole case—I did not know Wieland—our meeting was by appointment for three o'clock—you sent a telegram to say you could not come at three, and you addressed that to Reuschel's office—you asked me to make an appointment with Reuschel for you—the interview on 24th was on behalf of Gehlsen and you, because I wanted to intercede between you and make peace—I don't think other people without standing close to us could have overheard our conversation—Wieland could have overheard because he was sitting next to you, at your side—I received a letter from Gehlsen on January 12th—I wrote declining to appear as a witness in the case—I received a subpoena with a fee of £1, and went to Worship Street to give evidence.
ERNEST JOSEPH WIELAND . I live at 12, Hertford Street, Commercial Road—I was in Spiers and Pond's Restaurant, Gray's Inn Road, on December 24th, when the prisoner and Geehl were there, and I heard what took place between them—they had a conversation about the libel that was printed in the Westphalian Gazette—Geehl asked the prisoner if he had written the article, and he said "No"; he said he had a hand in it; he had some material given to him, and he said Mr. Herbert Winter had written the article, and he could produce him at the trial.
Cross-examined. I think the first time I saw you was in the Gray's Inn Road—I went to Mr. Osborne's office because I was asked by Mr. Geehl—I had a letter from Mr. Reuschel—I am occasionally in Reuschel's employment—I was sent to the Gray's Inn Road on December 24th by Reuschel—you said you had a hand in the whole article against Mr. Gehlsen—the conversation was in German not in English—I have not read the article.
By the JURY. I went to the restaurant on purpose to listen to the conversation—I had no personal interest in the matter.
PHILIP WILLIS (Sergeant E). I arrested the prisoner on a warrant, as he did not appear to the summons—I read the warrant to him—he made no reply—I found on him certain documents, among them this letter and envelope. "Sir,—Your advertisement which had appeared in a recent number of Mr. Detloff's paper has been just shown to me, and in reply I beg to say that in due course, and after the main battle is fought and won, I shall not hesitate to give you my full address, so as to enable you to commence legal proceedings against me, and at the same time to give me the welcome opportunity to justify all my allegations brought against you. For the present time, however, I have better things to do than to meet you in Court, and so you will have to wait till your turn comes.—Yours, etc., HERBERT WINTER." (The envelope was addressed to Mr. H. Joachim, 5, Church Road, Castlenau.)
Cross-examined. You surrendered voluntarily—a friend of yours made an appointment for you—Mr. Donnesbeck was present when I took the documents, to the best of my belief—the inspector and gaoler were there; it was in a room at the back of the Court—the inspector was taking the charge—among other documents there were several German newspapers—I produced all the papers I found—I handed them over to the solicitor—among them was a closed envelope addressed to you, with a printed address—I was present when it was opened; the bill was the only thing contained in it.
HENRY JOACHIM GEHLSEN . I live at 5, Church Terrace, Barnes, and am the prosecutor in this case—I am a journalist, and carry on a wine merchant's business as Keller and Son—I purchased this copy of the Westphalian Gazette at Finsbury Square—I am the person therein referred to as Joachim Gehlsen—I received this letter purporting to be signed by Herbert. Winter. (This was stated to be in the same terms as that found on the prisoner.)
Cross-examined. The original and the copy of the letter seem to be in different writing; my eyesight is so bad I cannot say.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that the articles were written by Mr. Herbert Winter, who had been called back to Germany to be a witness in an action there; that he (Semansky) as a London correspondent of the "Westphalian Gazette" introduced Winter to the editor, and that the editor afterwards wrote to him asking for an explanation of the articles, and sent the money to him to forward on to Winter.
GUILTY .— Discharged on recognisances.
MESSRS. MUIR and E. PERCIVAL CLARKE Prosecuted; MR. ABINGER Defended O'Byrne, and MR. PURCELL Defended Draycott.
At the conclusion of MR. MUIR'S opening the prisoners stated in the hearing of the JURY that they PLEADED GUILTY to certain Counts for fraud and conspiracy, and thereupon the JURY found them GUILTY.
Two witnesses deposed to Draycott's goodcharacter, and one to O'Byrne's. O'BYRNE— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. DRAYCOTT— Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT, Wednesday and Thursday, February 27th and 28th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
ALBERT WALTER GAMAGE . I am a hosier and outfitter, of 128, Holborn—prior to January, 1894, I had been Peartree's customer for waterproof goods—on September 3rd, 1893, I advanced him £40 by bill to assist him in his business—there was a business account between us, which went on after September, 1893—in July, 1894, Peartree asked me to buy his business—he said, as a reason, it was impossible for him to finance it any longer—he had in a distress for rent—he asked me to buy the plant, start on my own account, and make him cutter and manager of the works, promising there should be no worry—I would not hear of it at first, but on his repeated application I consented early in January—he pressed me—I said, "What sum would you require?"—he said, "£4 a week"—I said, "That is too much for a young business, especially an untried one," and that the most I could give was £2 a week, but if the thing turned out a success I would give him 50 percent.; half the net profits, not commission—this agreement and assignment were entered into. (This agreement was dated 28th February, and was for Peartree's exclusive service as manager and book-keeper to Gamage as a waterproof manufacturer at 42, Gray's Inn Road, at £2 a week, and stipulated that Peartree should not at any time set up a similar business within two miles of that place)—nothing is said about 50 percent., as Peartree requested it should not be put in—I asked him why, and he said he had his private reasons—the distress had then been paid out—he had other creditors, as to whom I have no particulars—he said his credit was stopped, and he could not get any more goods. (The assignment was read, dated 27th February, and was between the same parties, Alexander Peartree, of 55, Cornwall Road, Bromley, and Albert Walter Gamage, hosier, of 128, Holborn. It recited that Peartree had carried on the business of a waterproof manufacturer at 27, Baxter Road, under the style of "A. Peartree," and that he agreed to sell all his interests and goodwill to Gamage absolutely under the style of "Peartree and Co.," with the plant, for £40, £10 being paid on the execution of this assignment, and covenanted that Peartree would not at any time carry on a similar business directly or indirectly within two miles of the premises)—The business of "Peartree and Co." was to be carried on at 42, Gray's Inn Road—from that time Peartree was my foreman and manager—I paid him regularly £2 a week—this is the wages book kept by the prisoner, with the signatures of the other employe's, and with the prisoner's initials, "A. P., £2, every week in his writing—in most cases it is ticked by myself—the prisoner's duty was to see to the manufacture of the goods, take orders, and execute them; cut, make and deliver; to keep a journal, or day-book, a wages book, and a petty cash book—almost all the entries in the day-book are his—it ought to show the correct amount of goods supplied and the names of the customers—the prisoner made out the invoice which was sent with the goods—the clerk Matthews, who is engaged at Holborn, attended, and made out a monthly statement from the books at Gray's Inn
Road—this statement the prisoner sent to the customers for his collection every month, of the amounts due—his duty was to bring the money to Holborn—an account was made out for the purpose of including the 50 per cent, net profits which I promised him—the first was made out on 23rd May, 1894, by accountants; a sort of stock-taking—it showed a profit to January 12th, 1894, of £54 12s.4d.—I paid him the half by this cheque for £27 6s. 6d.—my cheques are all crossed—it may have been cashed at one of my desks—a similar account was made out to 21st November, 1894, which, including the previous account, showed a profit of £149 3s. 5d.—the cheque for his half of that, £47 5s. 2d., has never been paid—the reason for that was I was getting rather suspicious—that account was made out about a fortnight after the 21st November—we could not get a return of the petty cash from Peartree, so it delayed the balance-sheet till the beginning of December—I had applied to him for an account of the petty cash expenses every week—the previous settlement was so unsatisfactory that I told the prisoner I would insist upon vouchers of the various amounts every week—that conversa, tion took place at the previous stocktaking, about May—I asked him what he was doing for money, he was not spending very much—he said, he was using his own—I said, "Well, you are a great fool to do that, I do not wish you to use your money for my business," and he promised to bring me an account—I could not get it—I repeatedly asked him for it—Spencer Brothers and Messrs. Piggott, retailers, were customers—all I received from the prisoner from Spencer Brothers was £15 in notes, about the 24th December—I spoke to him about it in August and September—I said, "Have Spencer's not paid?"—he said the account was so small he did not like to unsettle them by asking for it, no doubt he would get it in the course of a week or so—I sent him to Spencer's and be brought the money back—he said they were very busy, and had given him £15 on account, and we should have the balance next week—he paid in money on account of Piggott's; it was always in cash—I said, "How is it Piggott's pay such a large an amount of money in cash?"—he said they had got into a bad habit, they used to give him cash in the old business, but he would get them into a better one to pay by cheque—I preferred cheques from people like Piggott's—I did not endorse "Peartree and Co." on the back of any of these cheques—I did not authorise him to do so—it was his duty to bring them to me for endorsement—we never had such a cheque, if we had it would have been paid into my account by my cashier at Holborn—in the day-book, on 5th June, 1894, there is an entry in the prisoner's writing of 11s. 11d., goods supplied to Spencer Brothers—I find an invoice of the same date made out to Spencer Brothers, amounting to £2 13s. 5d., consisting of these three items: "12/33 No. 1 pouches, plain, 3s. 2d., £1 18s.; 3/33 silk vests, 3s. 8d., 11s.; 15 satchels, 3 1/2 d, 4s. 5d."—the entry in the day-book is 11s. for silks and 11d. for satchels—on June 12th the entry in the day-book is "Spencer Brothers, 17s. 7d.," in two items, and in the invoice supplied to Spencer Brothers £2 19s. 1d.—on June 23rd I find no entry in the day-book, but there is an invoice for goods supplied to Spencer Brothers to the amount of £2 7s. 9d.; on the 12th July, in the day-book, 12s. 6d., and in the invoice £2 13s.; July 14th, day book, £1 0s. 9d.; invoice, £5 3s. 9d.; August 2nd, day-book, 19s.;
invoice, £4 15s.; August 15th, day-book, £1 9s.; invoice, £3 12s. 6d.; December 11th, day-book, "Repairs 6d.," and in the invoice, "Repairs 2s. 3d."—those invoices are in the prisoner's writing—then I find goods supplied to Piggott's, October 1st, 1894, £7 11s. 6d., invoice £10 5s. 9d.—I did not then know the defendant was keeping this rough memorandum book (Produced)—it was found in the desk—in it I found in the prisoner's writing pencil entries of these transactions, which appear to have been rubbed out, leaving the entry, for instance the £7 11s. 6d., to correspond with the day-book—I can just trace the entry £10 5s. 9d., which has been rubbed out, corresponding with the invoice—this invoice consists of three items, the entries are not quite the same, others are substituted—the "248 at 28s. 6d.," in the invoice is erased in the day-book—on November 28th I find in the day-book, Piggott, £3 9s. 10d., and in the invoice, £7 19s. 6d.—one item of £4 6s. is omitted altogether—that is put down as "No charge"—that means it is given in exchange or something of that sort—it is marked "no/c," no charge—£3 9s. 10d. is erased, and I see something like £7 5s. 6d.—I find on December 6th day-book, £2 5s. 8d., invoice, £10 19s.—in the rough-book, £2 5s. 8d.; the other has been rubbed out—the monthly statements rendered to Spencer's and to Piggott's are the prisoner's writing, except the one of January, 1895, to Spencer Brothers, an original statement—those statements include the larger amounts in the invoices, and not the smaller ones in the day-book—they are all receipted—this is a statement, amounting to £14 7s. for July, 1894—the receipt is "Received by cheque with thanks, £14 7s., A. PEARTREE"—another is for September, 1894, £30 2s. 4d., and another for December, 1894, £16 3s. 8d.—those are Spencer's amounts—I never received them—of Piggott's I have one for April, 1894, £13 0s. 3d., August 10th, 1894, £43 6s. 11d., and September 1st, 1894, £33 1s. 10d.; September 8th, £27 14s. 9d.—I did not receive those amounts—we had amounts on account brought in several times—these cheques produced appear to have been paid by Spencer and Piggott—they are open cheques—most of them are payable to Peartree and Co., or order—some are endorsed, "Peartree and Co.," and one or two are made payable to A. Peartree—the endorsements are in the defendant's writing—in January, 1894, I inquired of Spencer and Piggott as to the payments of their accounts—the prisoner absenting himself about the 5th January without notice, on a plea of illness, I went to his house—he was out—that was about three p.m., I saw him about seven p.m.—I sent his son to find him—in the presence of my clerks, Matthews and Dowling, I told him I had ascertained Spencer's accounts had been paid, for which there had not been any return, the money had not been handed in, and I asked him what he had done with the money—he said it seemed no use denying it, he had had it and spent it, and he had been all the week trying to get money to replace it—I told him he had stolen my money and I should prosecute him—I asked him if that was all—he said "No"—I said, "What about Piggotts"—he said, "The same remark applies to Piggotts"—I repeated I should prosecute him—he begged me not to do so, he had a sick wife, and it would be his ruin—he promised to render a full account, and I gave him till 12 o'clock the following morning—he threatened to commit suicide if I did prosecute him—he came the next day and said he had
not been able to get the return out, and begged me to give him till Monday—he said he would give a correct account and refund every penny—he said he had not got a letter from his father in Germany—his father is a German—on Monday the same thing took place, he begged me to give him till Tuesday, he had not received the letter he had been expecting—on Tuesday he begged for another day and I gave it him, much against my wish—he then begged till Friday, saying he would be there at two o'clock—I gave him till Friday—on Friday, the 18th, he did not come, and on Saturday I received this writ. (Claiming to have an account taken of the partnership dealings between plaintiff and defendant, to have the partnership wound up, a receiver appointed, and the usual costs.)—up to that time he had not suggested to me he was a partner, nor had I received any communication from any solicitor or anybody—Mr. Raphael is his solicitor—on the 23rd I charged him with this embezzlement and falsification of accounts—I gave him into custody on the Wednesday—I put the matters into the hand of my solicitor on the Saturday to prepare the information before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. I have six or seven shops—I had known the defendant two years previous to employing him; three years altogether—I had found him straightforward—I had no fault to find with him—I found he had goods suitable to my class of trade, and I bought of him—this waterproof manufactory was my business alone—it was wholesale—it was carried on in the name of "Peartree and Co.," because we supplied retailers who were competitors of my own retail businesses—that was his suggestion—I will not swear it was not mine—between December 21st and January 22nd I had five or six interviews alone in my office with the defendant—I did not first suggest going into business with him—he said he could make the factory pay—I do not remember the percentage we thought we could make—we discussed it—negotiations were not going on between us, only conversations—partnership was not mentioned—I had the agreement because I wanted the position clearly defined, and I could close the factory at a week's notice—I agree that was not signed till 28th, because we were busy about the 22nd and had to consult a solicitor—I paid the defendant £2 in the interval—I know Birnbaum's as a business house—Birnbaum never demanded about £100, the defendant's debt, on the ground of there being a partnership between us—there was nothing of that nature—no creditor of Peartree sought to make me liable; it is false to say I told Peartree so—the agreement was not to avoid such an attempt—Peartree never mentioned it—I did not press Peartree after his refusal to sign the agreement, nor say, "If you will do it I will give you my solemn promise that any such writing shall only be produced in the event of any creditor of yours trying to make me liable to pay your old debts"—that is the only agreement between us, excepting with regard to commission—I said so at the Police-court—the arrangement from the first was that the defendant was to have half the net profits—that was left out at the defendant's special request—I explained to him he would be running a risk, and was trusting to my word—he said he had his own reasons, and would trust to my word—I had a suspicion of his reason—he owed some money, but that was not my affair—as the agreement stands he would get £2 a week,
and if he did not behave I could close it at a week's notice—the assignment was made to liquidate the debt—no money passed—the £40 was for money I had advanced him in September, 1893—I had had notes as against the £40 for part of the money—we did not know at the time what was due to me—now the account is made out we say £28 is paid—we knew that on February 27th, but the books were not made up—I did not then know that £40 had been advanced by me, as against a current account for goods to be supplied, and that goods had been supplied to the extent of £28—at that time I thought he owed me £40—I did not know what was paid off till after the Police-court proceedings—the remaining £12 has never been paid—it is credited—I suppose I owe it—the goodwill was about £10—I paid the defendant a cheque for £10 4s.—I say the £10 receipted in the assignment was paid in the £40 I advanced to the defendant in September—it was not paid separately—it was decided to have the two documents from the beginning—the accounts were to be taken at my discretion, and not agreed to be taken at four or six months—I should not be likely to delay them two or three years in my own interest—I agreed to pay the defendant a commission of half the net profits—the words I put on the counterfoil of the cheque of £27 6s. 6d. I paid him are "half profit share"—the whole thing agrees with my way of putting it—I simply put it for my own guidance—we charge the prisoner with embezzling £350; I mean that is the total amount—the learned Magistrate restricted the amount—the defendant's share of profits would be about £50—there is due to him on petty cash a few pounds; between £40 and £50—it is not £49 odd; it is £49 less £5 he has had—I do not owe the defendant £113—in one way I do, but he has had the money—his share of profits would not be £20, £15, or even £10 for the winter season, which shows generally a loss, as trade is very slack—the defendant admitted the embezzlement, and I said I would prosecute him, but before proceedings were taken I thought £160 to £200 sufficient to cover the deficiency, but the deficiency was afterwards found to be, perhaps, £50 greater by the 18th January—I was willing the money I owed the prisoner should be allowed in the account—I said so to the prisoner—the question was not asked at the Police-court—Dowling was present at the whole of one Interview on 11th or 12th January—the prisoner never said, "What about the partnership and my share of the profits?"—he mentioned the share of the profits coming to him on the stock-taking balance, and that with what money he could get he would render a true account, and would refund every penny—I was surprised to get a writ—I know very little about water-proofing beyond buying; I could not now carry on the manufacture of water-proofs without a proper man to do it—the defendant was not ill; it was a sham—this is not my venom—the defendant said something about when the account was taken very little would be found due either way—we were waiting for the account—I had the security of the stock—the defendant did not say there was a difference in the invoices sent to Spencer's and Piggott's and the invoices I had, because they represented goods made out of stock that he had that could not be charged to my account—the stock is there still except one piece that he said he used—a similar book to this was kept before this one, which ends 21st April, or sheets of paper were made out every week; we do not keep those papers after a time—this
book is intact, and shows ray petty cash payments—the defendant has paid from Piggott's considerably over £200.
Re-examined. There is a deficiency of something like £297 on Piggott's account—but for the fact of the defendant's debt to me, I would not have bought the business—I would not have bought it if he had not pressed me—he said his Credit was all stopped—I have dealt with Birnbaum since the defendant was my manager—Birnbaum never tried to make me pay the debts of Peartree. (Letter read from the witness to Messrs. Birnbaum, of 2nd March, 1894, containing these words: "Please charge all goods to Peartree and Co., but all orders must be either signed or initialled by me, for which I will hold myself answerable. If this undertaking is not to your liking, kindly draw up a copy, and I will re-write and sign the same")—after the letter orders were signed or initialled by me—on one or two occasions the defendant sent orders which Birnbaum refused to execute—that was in accordance with Clause 4 of the agreement, which provided that the defendant should not order goods, or pledge my credit—I cannot find the letter to which mine was a reply—I believe it is destroyed—this is the cash-book supposed to have been kept by the defendant—I paid him the £1 or £2 entered there from time to time—it was made up to the early part of December, showing £54 due to him—I initialled the cash-book, after which the balance-sheet was made up.
WILLIAM SPENCER . I carry on business as Spencer Brothers, hosiers and outfitters, in Fleet Street—I had dealt with Peartree when he was in business at Islington—I afterwards dealt with Peartree and Co., at Gray's Inn Road—these are invoices of goods supplied to me: June 5th, 1894, £2 13s. 5d.; 12th, £2 19s. 1d.; 23rd, £2 7s. 9d.; December 19th, 2s. 3d. for repairs; July 12th, £2 13s.; 14th, £5 3s. 9d.; August 2nd, £4 15s.; November 15th, 1894, £3 12s. 6d.—this is the monthly statement to July, 1894, amounting to £14 7s.—this is my open cheque for it—Peartree gave me the receipt—he asked for the cheque to be left open—I had asked him the question—the next statement is to December, 1894, amounting to £16 3s. 8d.—I paid that by open cheque to the prisoner at his request—some of the goods were made from tweeds, some from ordinary black proofing.
Cross-examined. I cannot say he was unspotted—he carried on business in a respectable manner—an account was applied for which had been paid, and I wrote to Peartree on it—his answer was somebody must have been going through the books who did not understand them—he told me he had received several amounts he had not paid over to the firm—I did not ask for the reasons.
Re-examined. The account was applied for the end of last year—I found out afterwards it was by Mr. Gamage's clerk or cashier—the defendant never told me he was a partner—I did not know Gamage was at the back of him, or was interested in the business.
ALEXANDER PAUL . I am a clerk to Messrs. Piggott—we were supplied with the goods referred to in these invoices, amounting to £10 5s. 9d., £7 19s. 6d., and £10 19s.—statements were rendered, and those amounts, to the best of my knowledge, were paid by cheque—the receipts are on the statement, "Received by cheque"—these are cheques of our firm—they are open cheques.
ARTHUR PEG . I am ledger-keeper to Messrs. Piggott—I paid the amounts in these statements by the open cheques produced—we pay some people by open cheque—the prisoner requested once or twice the cheque should be open.
TOM MATTHEWS . I am a clerk of Mr. Gamage, employed at Holborn—it was my duty to attend at Gray's Inn to make out the monthly statements of Peartree and Co., from the ledger, which I posted from the day-book kept by the prisoner—I attended every week and posted the day-book—these statements (produced) are the prisoner's writing—I handed the statements I made out to the prisoner for the purpose of handing to the customers—I have seen one since which was found in the prisoner's desk—he never told me he was substituting other statements for those I made out—I had no idea of it—I did not know he was receiving sums from Spencer's and Piggott's during last year—he never accounted to me for any money—this is one of my original statements, which agrees with the day-book and ledger—the first items on April 9th, amounting to twelve guineas, from Mr. Piggott, were first entered in the day-book and posted to Mr. Gamage in the ledger—when I discovered the mistake I spoke to the defendant, who examined the signature book—he told ire he found it should have been made out to John Piggott—that is how I came to put it down here—I had that conversation with the prisoner in November, to the best of my recollection—I made out this statement in December—the prisoner never told me he had received twelve guineas from Piggott's as early as April—I gave him the December statement to deliver to Piggott's—this is the statement of April 9th, in the prisoner's writing, in which the twelve guineas is accounted for—it shows the prisoner received the twelve guineas in April—I was present at the interview between Mr. Gamage and the defendant on 11th January—I was called down into Mr. Gamage's office to bring the ledger referring to these accounts, and I heard what went on—Mr. Gamage said he would prosecute the defendant for appropriating the money—he asked the defendant what he had done with the money he collected from the customers, and said he had received money and failed to account for it—that referred to Piggott's and Spencer's—the prisoner pleaded hard, and said that he had got a sick wife at home, he would render a statement, and pay every penny if he would stay the prosecution, and Mr. Gamage gave him time.
Cross-examined. The defendant gave me every opportunity to correct the error—I was not present at quite the whole interview on the 11th—I have no recollection of the defendant saying a large sum was due from Mr. Gamage to him—Peartree did not allege in my presence that he was a partner—I did not know till later the exact arrangement between them—Peartree did not complain of the way Mr. Gamage had treated him in money matters—nor that he had other than partnership accounts with Piggott's.
Re-examined. Defendant never told me he was a partner.
GEORGE DOWLING . I am cashier to Mr. Gamage at Holborn—money should be paid to me—it was the defendant's duty to hand me any cheques he received—I never received any cheques from Spencer's—£15 was handed to me from Spencer's by a clerk in the office—I was present at the interview between Mr. Gamage and the defendant on 11th January—Mr. Gamage
said the defendant had misappropriated moneys, and he was asked what he had to say about it, when he admitted he had misappropriated money—Mr. Gamage Raid he was going to get out a warrant for his arrest, and the defendant asked for a little respite, and Mr. Gamage said if the defendant did not come in by twelve o'clock the next day he would have the warrant out—the defendant said he had written to his father in Germany, and expected a letter in a day or two with money.
Cross-examined. The defendant said money was due to him from Mr. Gamage for petty cash, but then he had not settled his accounts up—he did not say he was a partner, not that I am aware of—the word "partner" was mentioned by the prisoner, something about it, but I did not notice what it was, as I was busy taking down letters from Mr. Gamage—Matthews was present during the interview.
Re-examined. I was present when the interview commenced—Spencer's and Piggott's were mentioned, but I was too busy to pay attention to the whole of the conversation.
PERCIVAL CHARLES WALTERS . I am assistant to Mr. Gamage—after the defendant left on 11th January I found this statement in Matthews' writing in the desk in the office of Peartree and Co.—it is made out to Piggott—also this one in Matthews' writing, made out to Spencer Brothers, and this rough memorandum book in pencil.
Cross-examined. I was generally engaged at Holborn—I had to go to the Gray's Inn establishment—the lock was broken off the desk—anyone could go to it who was in the room.
Re-examined. I knew it was Peartree's desk.
HENRY CHAPMAN (Policeman G). I took the prisoner into custody—I told him I should take him into custody on the charge preferred against him of embezzlement by Mr. Gamage, of Holborn—he said, "All right, I will go to the station"—on the way he said, "It is in my solicitors' hands, they know all about the case, I am in partnership with Mr. Gamage"—he was detained.
RICHARD HITHERSAY . I am head clerk to Birnbaum and Co.—we dealt with Peartree when he was in business at Islington—we subsequently dealt with Peartree and Co., with Mr. Gamage—after we had opened an account with Peartree and Co. I saw Mr. Gamage with respect to the position of the business, and Mr. Peartree a week or two afterwards—I questioned them with regard to the prospect of obtaining money owing to us—Mr. Peartree said there was none, as he was simply an ordinary paid servant of Mr. Gamage, and there was no prospect of his being anything else.
Cross-examined. I met Peartree accidentally—people who owe money make strong statements—this is no exception.
Re-examined. Sometimes they tell the truth.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
The JURY being unable to agree, were discharged from giving a verdict.
MR. HUTTON, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
263. JAMES REDDEN (33), PATRICK O'CONNOR (25), and WALTER JAMES GREEN (22), Burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Walsh and stealing fifty boxes of cigars and other goods, to which Redden and O'Connor PLEADED GUILTY . After the JURY had been sworn Green stated that he PLEADED GUILTY , whereupon the JURY found him GUILTY. Redden and O'Connor also PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of James Timmins and stealing a knife and other articles. Green PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1892, and Redden also PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony. Thirteen convictions were proved against Green. Redden had twice been sentenced to five years' penal servitude. REDDEN— Three Years' Penal Servitude. O'CONNOR†— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. GREEN— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, February 28th and March 1st.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
264. RICHARD WILSON (43) , Feloniously using a certain instrument upon Eliza Agnes Bini, with intent to procure abortion, and ELIZA AGNES BINI (29) , Feloniously aiding and assisting in the commission of the said felony.
MESSRS. BODKIN and ARTHUR GILL Prosecuted; MESSRS. GEOGHEGAN and MARSHALL appeared for Wilson; and MR. HUTTON for Bini.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BODKIN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. PASSMORE Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Before Mr. Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. GUY STEPHENSON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Six Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant,
MR. PIGGOTT Prosecuted, and MR. OVEREND Defended.
ROSE PERKINS . I am single—I live at 7, Turney Road, Streatham—at the latter part of last year the prisoner called—I do not remember the conversation then—he called a second time, and said he had got into trouble about two albums; that he had sold them and could not account for them, and that if Mr. Robins could find the girls he would take the money by instalments from the girls, but he would not from him—he asked me to say I had them—I said I should not have anything to do with it—Sarah Simmonds was present—I did not sign any order on that occasion, or give him authority to sign an order—I did not pay any subscription us an instalment on any album—I afterwards received application for payment at the beginning of this year by two cards, which were left at the door requesting payment—after that the prisoner called, and asked me if I had got the cards—I said, "I have not; I have sent them back to where they came from"—he said I had opened the ball and done him £10 worth of harm; if I had taken the cards he would have taken them from me and paid Robins by instalments—I saw this order form "A," headed "Mr. F. J. Smith," when Detective King called on me, not before—it is not my signature at the bottom; it is my name, but not in my writing—there is a description of where I live and my occupation—the document is not signed by me or by my authority—I never paid the five shillings which I am here credited with.
Cross-examined. The prisoner first called on me about the early part of December, I should think, and he then showed me some jewellery—I did not take anything from him; we merely had a chat—he came again shortly afterwards to see me, in a friendly way, and he called several times, in a friendly way, hawking his jewellery—he remained for a little conversation after the business was over—he told me before the day when these orders were produced that he was about to leave Robins, his employer—he said he had to make up his stock, as he was leaving Mr. Robins; that he could not account for two albums, and wanted my help—he said I should not be put to any expense if I helped him, but that he would pay Robins the value of the albums—he took out some orders—I took no notice of them—I did not see what he wrote on them—I did not see them after he had written on them—they are similar to these orders—I cannot say if they are the same—he explained what they meant; he did not read them altogether—I understood what it meant, but I was not going to have anything to do with it—he thoroughly explained what he desired—I suppose, by what I saw afterwards, that he then wrote my name on one of the orders; I could not see what he wrote—he explained what he desired to do, and asked for my help, and then wrote something—the cards came on a Tuesday, and I saw the
prisoner again on the following Saturday—within a week after he had written something on the order I wrote and told him I would have nothing to do with him—I wrote because T had not heard anything about it—there was no appointment for him to call on me—he said he would come and see me—it was because he did not call at the end of the week that I wrote saying I would have nothing to do with this plan pf his; I did not write till the end of the week—I returned the cards sent by Robins—when I saw the prisoner after that he said, "I would have taken the cards away; I would have paid Robins by instalments."
By the COURT. I am in service at the address I have given—the prisoner called to sell jewellery—Simmonds is my fellow-servant.
Re-examined. Every time he called it was to solicit orders—I never gave him authority to sign this order.
SARAH SIMMONDS . I am a housemaid and fellow-servant to Perkins, who is cook—the prisoner called with different articles to sell; and then he came and said he had got into trouble with Robins, and asked me if I would allow him to give my name to Robins as having had an album—I said "No," I would have nothing to do with it—afterwards a man brought cards to the house, and Perkins sent them back—I did not see them—after that, on the Saturday, the prisoner called; I had nothing to say to him—I did not sign this, nor give authority for it to be signed—I never paid 5s. on account.
Cross-examined. I saw the prisoner once or twice altogether—I know he was in the habit of calling at the house; he wanted us to buy something—I said "No"—he said something about some albums that he could not account for, and he asked me whether I would agree to give my name to Robins as having had an album—I refused.
OLIVER HORSELY ROBINS . I am a general merchant, of Regina House, Claphain—the prisoner was in my service up to 5th January, when he had to account to me for his stock and hand over the goods and orders—he handed over the stock to me, with the exception of three musical albums, for which he produced orders—these are two of the three orders; they purport to be genuine orders by customers, and I believed them to be so—this signature (Perkins) is in the prisoner's writing—a traveller might make out the order, but it should be signed by the person giving the order; if the person could not write, he or she should make a mark, and it would be witnessed—the value of the albums was 30s.—we were to receive 4s. a month—the prisoner would be entitled to fifteen percent, commission—the first 5s. was accounted for on the order form; it was supposed to be paid at the time—I sent a collector to the address on those two orders to confirm the orders, to see if they were good—on the report received from him I wrote to the prisoner—he came to see me, and said he was very sorry; when he took the musical albums the customers would not take them, and since then he had disposed of them for cash—I said, "If that is the case you had better pay the money in at once"—he said, "I am not in a position to do that. I have got into a little trouble, but I will pay 10s. on account—I refused to accept 10s., and said he must pay the whole or none—since that the money has been paid—inquiry was made by the police, which resulted in my finding out that the prosecutrixes repudiated these
orders, and said they never signed them—and then these proceedings were taken against the prisoner for forgery, and I was subpoenaed to give evidence.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had been twelve months or more in my employ—I have no reason to believe he acted dishonestly towards me, except in the case of the two albums; that was the only irregularity we ever had against him—we were not satisfied with the quality of his business; he got enough orders, but they were not sufficiently good—I do not say that was due to any dishonesty—he accounted for all his stock—his notice to leave expired on 5th January—ten days or a fortnight after that I heard something from a constable—a week or ten days after the 5th he offered the 10s. on account—we made no charge—when he offered the 10s. I said that if he paid £2, minus 1s. 6d., we would be quits—I was satisfied with his explanation that the young women had signed the orders, but would not afterwards take the albums—I did not know then what I know now—the albums have been paid for since the beginning of these proceedings by the prisoner's brother—£2 has been paid, the trade value of the albums.
Re-examined. The prisoner made too many bad debts—when he delivered up his stock and the two orders he did not tell me that he had parted with the two albums for cash.
MICHAEL KEEN (Sergeant W). I received information on 24th January, and arrested the prisoner on 4th February—I charged him with forging and uttering certain documents for the delivery of two musical albums with intent to defraud—he said, "What, Green again?"—I said, "No; it is Rose Perkins and Sarah Simmonds, servants at Streatham, who charge you with forgery"—he made no reply to the charge.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PIGGOTT, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TURTON Prosecuted.
EMMA DENT . I am a domestic servant, Jiving at 88, West Street, Farnham—on 28th December I got to Waterloo Station a little after seven, intending to travel down the line—I went into the general waiting-room—I had with me a round tin bonnet-box, containing a tweed mackintosh, these two collars, two pairs of cuffs, these straps, and a ball of worsted—this ball of worsted is of the same size and description as nine—my name is on these straps, and my initials, "E. D.," are on these collars—I swear these are mine, and were in the box at the time—I saw the prisoner in the waiting-room, and I asked her where I was to get my
ticket, and if she would look to my box while I went to the booking-office—I went to the booking-office and came back immediately, and found my box and the woman were gone—I at once gave information to the railway authorities—on 1st February I was shown, at Southwark Police-court, a number of women, from whom I at once picked out the prisoner.
EDWARD DERBY (Detective L). On 24th January I went to 7, Vine Road, Borough, and into a room which had been previously occupied by the prisoner—I there saw a box, which I brought to Kennington Road Police-station—I showed the box and its contents to the prosecutrix—among the contents were these things (Produced).
GUILTY . There was another Indictment against the prisoner for a similar offence.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
(275) WILLIAM WATSON , to unlawfully obtaining three tons of waste-paper from Frederick William Bockitt, and other waste-paper from other persons by false pretences, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Ten Months' Hard Labour.
The prisoner in the hearing of the JURY PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully wounding the said Elizabeth Potter, whereupon the JURY found him GUILTY of unlawful wounding. He then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in January, 1895.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
HARNALT BUSH . I assist Mr. John Bush, a confectioner, of Surrey Road, Streatham—on January 24th, about seven o'clock, the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of sweets, and gave me a florin—I said, "I think this, is a bad one"—he said, "I hope not"—I took it into the parlour, and showed it to my father, who came into the shop, and put it in the tester—the prisoner said, "Don't do that; I can't afford to lose it"—my father said, "Where did you get it from?"—he said, "I don't know"—he was given in custody—this is the coin.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It looked bad, and it felt very light—you might have run away if you tried, but a man came in behind you—I sent my father for a constable, and you said, "I will go with you"—you went out first, and went in the wrong direction for the station—my father called you back, and you went up the street together.
JOHN BUSH . I am a confectioner, of 48, Surrey Hill, Streatham—on January 24th I was in my parlour, and my daughter came in and showed me a coin—I went into the shop, and saw the prisoner; another customer was near him—my daughter held up the coin, and I took it and said to the prisoner, "Where did you get this from?"—he said, "I don't know, don't destroy it"—I walked round the counter and said, "If you can't tell me where you got it you will have to tell the police"—I gave him in custody with the coin—this is it, the mark of the tester is on it—I afterwards went to Mrs. Knapp's shop, she is also a confectioner at No. 22,
not a minute's walk off, and spoke to her; she went to the till and took out a florin and showed it to me—it was bad, and I ran up to the station with its which is only a few doors off, and handed it to the inspector—this, is it I believe, but I made no mark on it.
Cross-examined. The shop door was open, there was a man behind you who could have held you but he had no occasion—I sent my boy out by the side door, not through the shop—when you got half way to the station you tried to bolt, but I caught hold of you—I called at that shop and three others to see if anybody had passed bad coin there.
KATE BAXTER . I am assistant to Mrs. Knapp, a confectioner, of Surrey Hill, Streatham—on January 24th, about seven p.m., the prisoner came in for a pennyworth of coffee and gave me a florin—I gave him the change and put it in the till as soon as I received it—I had no other florins there—Mr. Bush came in a quarter of an hour or twenty minute afterwards—I went to the till and took out the florin; I handed it to him—he said it was bad—I had only put some coppers into the till since the prisoner came—Mr. Bush took away the coin—I picked the prisoner out at the station from six or seven other men—this is the coin.
FREDERICK BLADEN (116 W). On the evening of January 24th, I received the prisoner in custody from Mr. Bush, who handed me this coin—the prisoner said, "Anyone would think I had committed a burglary"—I found on him two pence and a pair of scissors—the other charge was preferred ten minutes afterwards—he said, "I know nothing about it'—I was there when Miss Baxter picked him out from nine or ten others.
Cross-examined. She did not see the men beforehand—she was in the inspector's office.
Cross-examined. I did not understand Mr. Bush to say that he did not want to be bothered by charging you—the constable was in the room the whole of the time—I sent Miss Baxter away till nine o'clock while I got some men to put with you; she was put into another room, and then they were brought out, and I told you to take a place where you liked.
Re-examined. She was asked to wait in the inspector's room—the men I placed with the prisoner were not there—they were about the same size as the prisoner.
The prisoner called
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had changed a half-crown and did not know that the coin was bad. He complained that the police gave Kate Baxter every opportunity of seeing the other men beforehand, and then placed him among them.
GUILTY .—He then PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction on March 2nd, 1885, of feloniously possessing counterfeit coin.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
ELIZA MILLEN . I am a widow, and live at 158, Blackfriars Road—I was present on August 7th, 1876, at St. John's Church, Walworth, when the prisoner was married to Emma Mason—my husband and I signed the register as witnesses—I knew them for about seven years, and then lost sight of them, but I saw his wife ten years back.
MARGARET NICOLL FORBES . I live at 7, Clarendon Street, Stockwell—I went through the ceremony of marriage with the prisoner on July 27th—I had known him four years—I understood he had been married—I met his wife about eighteen months ago, both before and after my marriage.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The banns had been put up at Batter-sea—the wedding was fixed for Sunday morning, and when the time came you refused to go to church.
By the COURT. I did not know he was married when I married him—I had no money—I am not the prosecutrix.
BENJAMIN MORGAN (Police Sergeant P). I took the prisoner on February 1st on another charge—he said, "Very good"—I produce the certificate of the two marriages—his wife is in Court now—I have not seen the children—the police are prosecuting him.
Prisoner's defence. I went through the second ceremony not for my own sake, but simply for her sake, who loved me not wisely, but too well.
GUILTY .— One Day's Imprisonment.
Owing to the illness of Counsel and witnesses, many of the cases committed for trial at these Sessions were postponed to the next.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, March 25th.