CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
SIXTH SESSION, HELD MARCH 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.
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On the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, March 25th, 1895, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ARTHUR HENN COLLINS, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's High Court of Justice; Sir JOHN WHITTAKER ELLIS, Bart., Sir JOSEPH SAVORY , Bart., Sir DAVID EVANS , K.C.M.G., Sir STUART KNILL , Bart., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; BENJAMIN FAUDEL PHILLIPS, Esq., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., FRANK GREEN , Esq., Sir JOSEPH COCKFIELD DIMSDALE, Knt., JAMES THOMSON RITCHIE , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City: and ROBERT MALCOLN KERR, ESQ., Judge of the City of London Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. SIXTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—a dagger (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, March 25th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. PIGOTT Prosecuted, and MR. SANDS Defended, at the request of the COURT.
FRANK MEAD . I did reside at 34, Bessboro Gardens; I do not now—on 18th January I received a letter from the prisoner—it has been mislaid or lost—I gave it to Mrs. Leonard to give to her solicitor; he copied it, and returned it to me—I have searched for it and been unable to find it—I resided in the same house with the prisoner for two months—I know his handwriting—at times, perhaps, he may be an excitable man—I understood that he was bound over at the Police-court; I don't know what for—it was after that I received this letter.
Cross-examined. I don't know what became of the letter; I simply lost it—I received it on the 18th January—I had it in my pocket for a day or two, and after that I gave it to the prosecutrix—I received it back from her, I should say, the next day—I asked for the letter at the Police-court—I had not shown it to anyone before that—my wife knew I had it—I have on now the coat I was then wearing—there were no other papers in it at the time—I had been living at the house about four months—I knew the prisoner before that; I had been on friendly terms with him—I am a traveller—I lived in the house with my wife—I think I should remember the contents of the letter if I saw the copy.
LOUISA LEONARD . I am the wife of John Leonard, a writer, and live at 34, Bessboro Gardens—I received a letter from the last witness—a copy of it was made by Mr. Sutcliffe, a solicitor whom I employed at the Police-court—I compared it with the original—this is the copy—it is a faithful copy—the prisoner was lodging in the house for some time—I summoned him for abusive language and threats, and he left that morning—I afterwards received this letter from him. (MR. SANDS objected to the letter
being ready there being no publication proved, and it not being alleged in the indictment that it was calculated to provoke a breach of the peace. THE RECORDER held that the objection was good, and that the prosecution must rely upon the first letter. This letter alleged that Mrs. Leonard was the keeper of a brothel, and had detained property belonging to him.)
LEVI AVERY (A 4). I served a copy of the summons on the prisoner on 21st January last—I was present at the Police-court when the defendant made an application about some razors. (MR. SANDS submitted that the letter being written privately to a friend, must be treated as a privileged communication. THE RECORDER was not of that opinion, as the person to whom it was addressed was requested to show it to the person libelled.)
GUILTY .— To enter into his own recognizances in £100 to come up for judgment if called upon.
281. WILLIAM ROBERT BEECROFT (20), PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an endorsement to a cheque; also to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences £20; and to a previous conviction of larceny at the West London Police-Court on 3rd June. 1891; and other convictions were proved against him.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
282. HARRY IVES (28) , to publishing a defamatory libel of and concerning Thomas Courtain Chivers.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Two Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour, and at the expiration of that sentence to find two sureties to keep the peace for four months.
283. HERBERT BLISS (14), RICHARD CHARLES FARR (16), and JOSEPH KITCHENER (15) , to feloniously breaking and entering the Christ Church Mission Hall, and stealing twenty-five missionary boxes and £1 5s.; also to breaking and entering a Primitive Methodist Chapel and stealing 1s. 6d.; also to breaking and entering a church and stealing divers articles. Detective Sergeant Charles King stated that Bliss and Farr had also been convicted.— Judgment suspended for further inquiry. And
MR. H. C. RICHARDS and MR. PIGOTT Prosecuted.
FRANCES MARY DUNKERTON . I live at New Mead Farm, near Bath—on Saturday, 12th January, between ten and quarter past, I went to the post-office at Glastonbury, and purchased two postal orders for 4s. and 1s. 6d.—I put them in a letter, sealed it, and addressed it to Mrs. Ellen Jameson, Newington, London—I posted it myself—I had the letter ready written, and I put the orders in it—in consequence of a communication from Mrs. Jameson, I communicated with the Post Office authorities.
EMILY GRIFFIN . I am a clerk in the post-office at Glastonbury—I was on duty on 15th and 16th February—I have a book in which I enter the numbers of the orders I issue—I issued these two orders; I signed them—they are the orders I issued about 10.30 that day—I went off duty that morning—I had not issued any others for the same amount—a letter posted at 10.15 would leave at 10.30.
prisoner has been employed there as an auxiliary postman—a letter posted at Glastonbury before half-past ten would be due at Kennington at 5.29; it would remain in the office about an hour before being dispatched—on 16th February the prisoner came on duty at 5.30—in the course of his duty he would have access to letters coming from Glastonbury and other parts.
ANN ORTON LEVERTON . I am a clerk at the post-office, 19A, High Street, Borough—these two orders were cashed by me on 18th February—I do not remember who presented them; it was a man—directly after I had paid them Mr. Cartwright came and spoke to me—the person who presented the orders asked me the name of the office; I gave it, and I saw him write the name—I said, "Put in High Street, 19A"—he said, "Is it necessary to put in the number?"—I said, "Yes"—the prisoner is like the man as well as I can remember.
FREDERICK CARTWRIGHT . I am an assistant at the General Post Office—in consequence of instructions I kept observation of the prisoner on the 18th February—I saw him leave his home at Lambeth about 12.55 in the afternoon; that would be about two miles from the Borough—I followed him to the Electric Railway Station at Stockwell; he got in there and went to St. George's Church—he went to the post-office, 19A, High Street, Borough—he went to the writing-desk and commenced writing—I looked over his shoulder, and found that he was writing on some postal orders—he asked the clerk the name of the office; she gave it—he asked if he should put the number—she said, "Yes"—he went back to the desk and commenced writing again, and he took the two postal orders for 4s. and 1s. 6d. and cashed them; I saw him get the money—as he was leaving I called the clerk's attention to him, and I put my signature on the back of the orders—these are the two orders—I communicated with Mr. Edwards, my superior officer.
WILLIAM THOMAS EDWARDS . I am in the confidential department of the Secretary's Office of the General Post Office—I was instructed to make inquiries as to the loss of certain letters; Cartwright was acting on my instructions—in consequence of what he said to me I saw the prisoner on the same day at the south-eastern office—I told him who I was, and said, "To-day at one o'clock you were followed from the office, and were seen to cash these two postal orders at the post-office in High Street in the name of Clay; do you wish to give any explanation?"—he said, "No, I had better say nothing"—I pointed to Cartwright and said, "This is the person who followed you"—he made no reply—I afterwards saw him again and said, "You were seen to cash the postal orders, and you were on duty when this letter would reach the Kennington office that same evening, and I give you into custody on the charge of stealing these orders"—he made no reply.
Prisoner. I have nothing to say
Mr. Edwards stated that there had been numerous losses of letters in the prisoner's department, and about thirty postal orders were found in his writing.
Fourteen Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Monday, March 25th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
286. WILLIAM JOHNSON (64), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously possessing counterfeit coin, having been convicted of a like offence in 1892. Twelve previous convictions were proved against him.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. And
287. THOMAS BAILEY (44) , to stealing an umbrella, the property of Thomas Hobern, a basket of tools of Thomas Meggs, and other tools of other persons; also to stealing three other baskets of tools of other persons.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
ALFRED MUGGERIDGE (Police Inspector). On the afternoon of March 6th I was on duty with Atkinson in Kensal Road, Kensington, and saw Johnson, who has pleaded guilty—Wood joined him near the end of Golden Road—they crossed the road and entered No. 77—I went in; a woman opened the door, and I told Wood I was a police officer, and should arrest him—he made no reply—I told Johnson the charge and searched him, and found in his waistcoat pocket three bad sixpences, and in his coat pocket a packet of forty-three broken sixpences and an old coin—I was there when my brother officer found this incomplete battery, a melting-pot, some plaster of Paris, silver sand, large scissors, copper wire, a bottle of liquid, and a piece of board with copper nails in it, which is used for polishing the coins—nothing was found on Wood.
AMOS ATKINSON (Police Sergeant). I accompanied Muggeridge and arrested Wood—he said nothing—I only found a knife on him—I found some metal in the grate and more among the ashes and cinders—there was very little lire in the grate—I searched further and found more metal—he saw me find the battery, the board, and the metal.
REBECCA SMITH . I live at 97, Southam Street, Westbourne Park Road—on February 14th Wood hired a room of me at 2s. 6d. a week and remained a week—he left on the Monday following and returned on March 3rd with Johnson, and hired the room again—he came in on the 4th and paid me a week in advance in Johnson's presence—on the Thursday Wood said that he would pay me a week in advarice, and Johnson said, "He can pay you two"—they came in next day and took possession—I was not at home when the police came—they both used the room from the 4th to the 6th, but I don't know whether they slept there—I saw them both in the room two or three times—I lived in the house—Wood said on Monday, referring to Johnson, "I work for him."
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these articles are all used by coiners—these forty-three sixpences are counterfeit and very badly made, and here are several more broken—this piece of metal is similar to that found in the grate—it would run through the fire at once, and being found in the fire is evidence that it was recently put there.
GUILTY . Eight convictions were proved against him, and he was still under ticket-of-leave.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
ALFRED DONALD MCKAY . I assist Mr. Gedon, a grocer, of 199, Paragon Road, Notting Hill—four weeks ago to-day Ellen Walters gave me a shilling—I told her it was bad, and gave it to the young assistant, who broke it in pieces with his teeth and gave it to Mr. Geden.
THOMAS GEDEN . I am a grocer—on February 25th one of my assistants brought me a broken shilling to the counter—Ellen Walters was in the shop—she talked to me, and I gave her back some of the bits of the broken shilling—she paid with a sixpence and left—one of the pieces which she had dropped was found after she left—I followed her to the door and saw the little boy, Arthur Walters, at the door—I did not know him before—I got my hat and saw the woman again, but did not see the prisoner.
FANNY DICKS . I am the wife of George Dicks, a greengrocer, of 2, Silchester Road, Notting Dale—on February 25th, between three and four o'clock, Ellen Walters bought some oranges of me and gave me a shilling—when she went out Nice came in—I gave him the shilling, he bit it in pieces.
FRANK CHARLES NICE (219 X). On February 25th Mr. Geden pointed out Ellen and Arthur Walters to me in Walmer Road, standing talking together—they walked to Exeter Road, twelve or thirteen yards, and met the prisoner about 3.30—he was standing there—they conversed for a few minutes—he passed something to her, and the prisoner and the boy walked towards Blessington Street, and Ellen went to the stall outside Mr. Dick's shop, when she conversed with Mrs. Dicks for five or ten minutes, and then went towards Blessington Street—the man and the boy leant against the baths in Langston Road—they all three went round Blessington Street; and I saw Thomas, whom I had not seen before—I went back and spoke to Mrs. Dicks, who produced a shilling from her pocket—I bit it in four pieces, and went down Langston Street till I saw a constable in Bramley Road—I was in uniform—I spoke to him, and then saw Thomas conversing with the other three—as soon as I approached, Thomas left—I called the prisoner and Ellen, and the boy, and said that they had passed two counterfeit shillings in the last half-hour—the prisoner said, "What, me? I have not passed any bad coin; I am on my way to Acton on a job"—I took one, and the constable took the other—the prisoner put three good shillings on the desk, and a sixpence and a halfpenny, and the woman produced a good half-crown 'and a sixpence and a half-penny—when they were charged the prisoner said, "This is through the drink and your drunken companions"—she made no reply—the prisoner was asked his address—he said, "I live anywhere;" but the boy shouted out, "11, Talbot Grove"—Ellen gave the same address.
Cross-examined. No bad money was found in the possession of the prisoner or his wife, but these thirty-two unfinished shillings (produced) were found up the chimney—they are apparently from the same mould as the shillings I found—I believe the prisoner has seventeen or eighteen years' good character, and has never been in trouble before.
WILLIAM ROWBOTTOM . I live at 1, Talbot Grove, and am agent to the landlord—on June 18th I let two parlours and an ante-room to the prisoner at 6s. a week—he has occupied them ever since—I went there several times and collected the rent—the prisoner and his wife were in occupation, and I believe two boys, but I did not see them—there was no one else to my knowledge.
ALICE LACEY . I live at 11, Talbot Grove—the prisoner and his wife occupied the two parlours—Thomas came there once or twice a week, but did not always come in—he said he was the brother—I have seen the prisoner at work in the ante-room; he used to do plumbing—I have brought him work home—I never saw Thomas or anyone else at work there.
SUSAN GARDNER . I am the wife of Arthur Gardner, a Slater—we live on the first floor at 11, Talbot Grove, over the prisoner—I have seen the prisoner in the ante-room at work, but no other man—I have never seen Thomas there.
Cross-examined. I only saw him call at the house on Monday, the 25th, when William and Thomas came in together—I believe William is a hard-working man—I have seen him in the ante-room at work in the plumbing line.
GEORGE GILDER . I am a carpenter, and have lived on the top floor at 11, Talbot Road, eleven years—I know all the people in the dock—I have seen the prisoner at work as a plumber in the ante-room, with the two little boys, who were learning the trade.
EDWARD KINSMAN . I am gate porter at Marylebone Workhouse—Thomas Walters was an inmate there—I have known him eight or nine years—he is partially paralysed; he is not an able-bodied man—he generally got a holiday once a week, on Monday, and went out—by giving proper notice he can go out, if he returns the same night—a person would not go out with twelve shillings in his possession, or with moulds.
JAMES BROWN (Detective Sergeant). I was at the station on the Monday when the prisoner and the boy were brought in—I went with Knight to 11, Talbot Grove, with the two keys—I opened the front door with one, and we entered—the little boy, Alec, followed us in—he is thirteen years old—he went to the mat at the back door, took a key from it, and undid the kitchen door and went in—nobody was there—a knock then came at the front door—I went, and the prisoner's brother was there—he is paralysed on one side; but he struggled and kicked very violently, and we had to take his boots off—we got him into the back room, and after a struggle I searched him—he took twelve counterfeit shillings out of his pocket; I knocked his knuckles, and they fell; I picked them up, they were separately wrapped in paper—they are of 1883—he was taken to the station by two officers—we allowed the boy to go to his aunt's, but I spoke to him again, and saw him hand a key to Knight which opened the door of the ante-room—I went in and searched the place, and in the back chimney I found this round wooden box (produced), containing a mould for making two separate shillings, one of 1883, and one of 1888, twenty counterfeit shillings, thirteen of 1883, and seven of 1888, some copper wire and some antimony—the copper wire is used for the battery, and on the shelves in the workshop was a box containing a complete battery, and solutions, and nitric acid,
quicksilver and other articles, the stock-in-trade of a coiner—I took them to the station, showed them to the three prisoners, and told them they would be charged with having counterfeit coin and coining implements; the prisoner said, "I know nothing of them; it is the first time I have seen that box; the battery I use in my work."
Cross-examined. Electric batteries are used for electric bells; if a man wanted to test a bell he would use a battery—there were three batteries which were used as cells, you cannot call them batteries; there were only two batteries, one in use and one not—it is used for silvering the coins—I have made inquiries about the prisoner; he has borne a good character for seventeen or eighteen years, but he has been in custody for assaulting the police; he was charged with drunkenness, and I believe he got 20s. or fourteen days; I believe he did the fourteen days, I am not sure—there were a quantity of tools in the ante-room—I had to put my hand up the chimney to find the box.
By the JURY. I found a quantity of solder, antimony and pewter, and there is antimony in these shillings.
WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Queen's Mint—this is a double mould for making shillings—this little bit of a coin bears the date of 1883; it is counterfeit, and it is the only piece which bears the date—this shilling in pieces is bad, and from this mould; it is of 1883—these twelve shillings separately done up are all from this mould, and these seven others are all from this mould—I do not connect the batteries with coining, but I am not an electrician.
By the COURT. A battery is used in coining, but this battery is more elaborate; if this had been used for testing bells it might also be used for coining—the battery does the electro-plating; it is a necessary thing—acids in solution would also be used in coining.
Cross-examined. I have had about sixteen years' experience—I have never seen three or four batteries mixed up together—I should say there is nothing to prevent anyone taking one out, but it looks as if it was made for trade purposes—the four batteries in the box could be all used at once or separately—the coins are made of pewter, but there is antimony in their composition.
Witness for the Defence.
THOMAS WALTERS . I have been an inmate of Marylebone Workhouse—I went out on 25th February, and about five or ten minutes to ten a.m. I found this round wooden box in the cemetery—I was sitting on a seat, and saw it lying under the next seat; I opened it and saw some money—I closed it up quick and put it in my pocket; I was afraid someone would come and find it—I took it to where William lives—he was not at home, and I put it up the chimney, because I did not want anyone to know—I knew the money was bad when I saw the mould.
By the COURT. I did not see the mould till I got to my brother's house—I saw it was bad and thought I was done, and put it up the chimney, and gave my sister-in-law two shillings, and said, "Don't say anything to my brother,"and these are the two shillings—my brother did not know that the box was up the chimney—he uses electric bells in his work.
Cross-examined. I did not see my brother till about twelve o'clock—I went into the house with him afterwards—I got to the house first, about
11.20—the front door is always on the latch—when I got in I only saw my brother's little boy, Alec—he went down to fetch his mother, and while he was gone I put the box up the chimney—I did not show it to the boy, but I took fourteen bad shillings out of it—I next saw Ellen, my sister-in-law, and gave her two shillings—she knew that I lived in the workhouse—she was rather surprised at receiving two shillings from me—I did not tell her they Were bad, I did not know it; but I put the box up the chimney because I found a mould in it—when I found them I was astounded—at twelve o'clock I went to a public-house where my brother was—I told my sister-in-law not to tell Bill that I had given her two shillings, because me and Bill have been at loggerheads some time—when I was arrested four good sixpences and 2s. 2d. in bronze were found on me—I have had that for months—I got it from my brother, the person I am at loggerheads with—I take ray discharge on Monday—I like to go to my sister and she gives me a trifle—I do not know the Walmer Road, I know the Lancaster public-house—I was with the father and mother and the little boy, and I said, "I will see you tonight"—he was going to take a cap off—I was not in conversation with them at the corner of Walmer Road, as the constable says—I went to the house afterwards and met Sergeant Brown—many a shilling gets into the workhouse, and many a pound.
J. BROWN (Re-examined). There is no entrance to the ante-room except through the parlour—it looks into the back garden—the battery had been very recently used—I found twenty shillings in the box.
GUILTY . He received a good character.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
MR. PARTRIDGE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. PARTRIDGE offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 26th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. E. GROSS Prosecuted, and MR. LYNCH Defended.
GEORGE ALFRED BRYAN . I trade in the name of Lewis and Co., at Harlesden, as a dealer in watches and jewellery—I employ a number of agents to sell watches and jewellery, and pay them a salary and a commission
of from 15 to 20 per cent.—they account to me weekly—when they obtain an order from a customer who does not pay cash they have to get an order filled up by the customer and bring it to me—this is one of the order forms: "Please furnish me with one of your——price and terms of subscription, which I undertake to pay regularly until the whole is paid;" and the agent signs, "I hereby certify that the person signing gave the order"—at the end of the week it is the agent's duty to make out a statement, Rhowing the sales and the balance of goods on hand, and the account between myself and the agent is balanced up every three months—the prisoner was first employed by me last April—his duties were similar to those I have described—on 22nd December he handed me this account and these five order forms, one of them being for a silver watch and chain, price 50s., for N. Duerdon, of 33, Sunnyside, Ealing, payable four shillings a month, and signed "E. F. Foreman"—I believed the order to be a genuine one, and paid the prisoner 7s. 6d. commission upon it—not receiving any instalment I made three written applications for payment, and eventually called on Miss Duerdon, and in consequence of what I ascertained from her these proceedings were instituted—the watch and chain have never been returned to me.
Cross-examined. Prisoner was doing a big business, unfortunately for me; I lost money—he had bad debts—the majority of customers were servant girls—we did a good trade in everything; £50 in a week—I have no record of £80 a week—I paid him 15 per cent, keeping back by agreement a reserve of 5 per cent. on the total business done to cover returns—in the case of the girls' mistresses complaining and asking the firm to take the goods back we should deduct the commission—the prisoner had possession of the goods at the time of taking the order—directly he sent in the order forms I paid the commission—I have no commission sheet from the prisoner for the week ending 31st August—I have all the sheets he sent me in—the first I have is 21st April—the amount of orders for the week was £13 15s.—I paid £1 12s. 6d., less 13s. 9d.—on the five orders that week he had already taken 7s. 6d., with which he credits me—none of those five orders were repudiated, to my knowledge—if so I should have deducted it when making up the reserve—15s. would be kept back in the event of an order being repudiated—we should not call that an order; it would not be legitimate business—I should deduct the commission in that case if it had been paid—people have not complained to me of orders having been forced upon them—the watch supplied to the girl Walsh, at 23, Portstead Road, Oxford, invoiced at £4, was returned—I had paid the prisoner commission on it—that would not be deducted till the reserve account was balanced, which was every three or four months, and which was to cover legitimate returns—I did not know the orders were signed by the agent—some of these produced are signed by Foreman—I see a slight difference in some of these—the address card and warranty would be sent to Miss Duerdon—I did not know till five or six weeks afterwards it was a sham order; not till the end of January or beginning of February, when a portion became due—the prisoner had then left and gone to an opposition employer—I only complained when he upset an order on which I had paid him commission, and put in another order for his new employer—this case had then been put in the hands of a detective—it was only a fortnight or three weeks
ago when he upset my business—I first found out he was placing Mr. Freestone's goods this month.
Re-examined. The reserve account is kept in case customers do not keep up their payments—I do not countenance the signing of the order form by the agent—he could fill in the name provided I had one signature—having had a dispute about a machine not being delivered in good condition, I inserted those words at the bottom: "I have this day received same in good condition," and the customer would sign on receipt of the goods, but I should not pay any money on the order—I wrote to Duerdon at her business address as a servant, and the letters were not returned—the competition had nothing to do with starting these proceedings—at the time Duerdon's order was handed in I believed it was genuine, and that the signature was the signature of the person it purported to be.
ELLEN DUERDON . I am servant to Mrs. Sanhurst, 33, Sunnyside, Ealing—I am called "N." and "Nellie"—I have been in this service five or six months—the prisoner called and asked me if I would buy a watch—I told him I could not afford it, and another thing, my people were very particular—he said, "Never mind, I'll send it by post"—I said I could not have it or anything of the sort; I had not the means to pay for it; I had not been in my situation long—he asked me my name, and I said he might as well give me his firm's name, and then if I had any I would have it from them if I could afford it—I gave him the name of Miss N. Duerdon—no other person of that name was living there—I gave no order—the name on this order form is not my writing.
Cross-examined. I gave him my name with the intention of having the watch when I could afford it—he must have mentioned the price, because a week later a bill came for money due on a watch I had never received—I asked him, but he never gave me the name of the firm—he refused to give it—not many people come to sell things where I am in service.
Re-examined. I did not pay fourpence or any sum—I never ordered anything—I only answered the third letter to say I had never received any watch nor given any order.
G.A. BRYAN (Recalled). I did not receive this watch back, but I received one which is not mine, but not a chain—the prisoner has not returned all my goods—I have applied personally and by letter, and he has promised to return my goods—I wish to correct my statement before the Magistrate that I discharged the prisoner on 22nd December—I find it was the day after—I wrote him asking if Duerdon's order was correct—I said before the Magistrate, "I lifted a machine belonging to Mr. Freestone"—"lift" is a business phrase—the prisoner upset my business by putting in a machine belonging to Williams and Co., his present employers, and I called and explained the circumstances, and the customer consented to my bringing it away; and I wrote informing the people who supplied it, as the prisoner had my goods.
NOT GUILTY .
294. HENRY FREDERICK NASH (44), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully making false entries in the books of his employers, the Bayswater and Kensington Mutual Permanent Benefit Building Society. He received a good character. There were three other indictments for forging and uttering orders of the same employers.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
296. THOMAS GANNAWAY (24) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Alfred Lawrence, and stealing two bottles of rum and ten boxes of cigarettes. (See page 470.) [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]
298. HARRY WOOLFF** (33) , to stealing in the dwelling-house of Emily Florence Mabel Wigg, a table-cloth and other goods, her property, and afterwards breaking out of the same house; also to a conviction of felony at Marylebone in the name of Albert Kenner, in May, 1893; also to two other indictments, one for burglary in the dwelling-house of Dilhot Dilsley Pankhurst, and stealing his goods; the other for stealing an opera glass and other things, the goods of Robert Tyler.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 26th, and
THIRD COURT. Wednesday, March 27th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. PARTRIDGE Prosecuted.
ETHEL PELLING . I am assistant to Mr. Milward, a confectioner, of 37, Tottenham Court Road—on Monday, 25th February, at 7.30 p.m., the prisoner came in for some sweets and gave me a half-crown—I sent it to Mr. Milward.
GEORGE ALFRED MILWARD . I am a confectioner—on Monday evening one of my assistants brought me this half-crown (Produced)—I thought it was bad, went into the shop, and saw the prisoner there—I asked her if she tendered it; she said, "Yes"—I said, "It is bad," and asked her where she got it—she said that a gentleman had given it to her at the corner of Oxford Street, she did not know who he was, but he had given her money before—I sent for a constable—on the previous Friday I found this other bad half-crown in the till—I do not know how it got there.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. It was over seven minutes before I came out—I compared it with the other coin first.
JOHN HARE (Policeman). On February 25th, about 7.15, I was called to Mr. Milward's shop by Constable Greggs, and saw the prosecutor, Mr. Milward—Greggs said that the prisoner had tendered this half-crown—I said, "Is this the half-crown you tendered?" she said, "Yes," and that she got it from a man she had drank with at the corner of Tottenham Court Road—no money was found on her—Greggs is not here, he is in bed with influenza—this is the doctor's certificate—the prisoner had the opportunity of cross-examining Greggs, but did not do so. (The deposition of Thomas Greggs, 44 D: "About 7.15 last evening I was called to 37, Tottenham Court Road, by Mr. Milward, and saw the prisoner in the shop; Mr. Milward gave me the coin produced. I asked her if she knew it was bad; she said, 'No'; there was a large crowd. I was present at the station; she refused her address; no money was found on her." Re-examined: "Mr. Penny gave me the half-crown after the prisoner was remanded on 26th February, and I produce it to-day."
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I did not know it was bad. I had it given me by a gentleman friend; I do not know his name. I had been in his company once before."
Prisoners defence. I met the gentleman quite by accident, and he gave me the half-crown; my people are very respectable. If I had known it was bad I had time to get out of the shop.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE AYRES . I am a cowkeeper, of Church Road, Tottenham, and rent a field in Lordship Lane—there are stacks in the field—somebody gave me information, I went to the field and the stack was all in a blaze—it was my stack—it was insured.
SMOLLETT EDDIXGTON . I am superintendent of the Fire Brigade, Tottenham—on the afternoon of March 20th one of Carter, Paterson's men called me out—I went to a field in Lordship Lane, and saw the stacks alight—we started at 2.30, and were at work till next morning, and again on Saturday morning, and again on Sunday—it burst out again—we have a new engine, a steamer.
EDWARD COOPER . I live at 21, Commercial Street, Tottenham—I was not at school last Wednesday; I was playing truant—I met the prisoner and Edward Baldwin and Harry Binks about one o'clock—we all went to Lordship Lane, and into Mr. Ayres' field—there is a haystack there—nobody said anything about it, but Harry Binks lit a cigarette and lit the haystack—I saw Mardell light a match; he lit the stack at the same place to make it burn better—nothing was said about setting fire to the haystack before we got over into the field—I afterwards went to the fire station to get the fire escape—I had heard about a new steamer—I did not want to see it at work—I did not set tire to it as well.
JOHN FIELD (Policeman N). On March 20th I received information, and went to a field in Lordship Lane—there was a fire-engine there—I did not see any boys at first—I stayed about an hour and a half, and saw the prisoner and another boy lying behind a hedge—they ran a good distance, and got behind a tree—I caught the prisoner—he said, "It was not me set fire to it, it was Harry Deane, but we were all together; I gave him the matches. Why we set fire to it was because we wanted to see the new steamer turn out"—late in the evening I took the prisoner—no matches were found on the prisoner or on Deane.
JOHN BILLINGS (Police Sergeant). I was in charge of Tottenham Station when the prisoner was brought in with another lad, and a statement was made, in consequence of which the prisoner was charged—Deane made a statement in the prisoner's presence, and the prisoner made a statement before the charge was made against him—this is it: "On Wednesday, 20th March, 1895, about 10.20, I met Harry Deane, Daniel Deane and George Baldwin; we all went to Brooker's sheds. We gathered up some hay and straw, and then George Baldwin gave Harry Deane a match; then Harry Deane lit the straw and hay in the shed. We all ran away to the cemetery railings, when we looked back and saw the shed smoking; then we ran across the fields to Lordship Lane; then
we went back to the shed, but the fire was out. Then we all went home to dinner. After dinner I went down to the school about 1.30. I met Harry Deane, Daniel Deane, Edward Cooper, Edward Baldwin and George Baldwin. We all went up Church Road, Church Lane and Lordship Lane to Ayres' haystack. Harry Deane said, 'We will go over to the haystack.' We all went over the fence except Edward Baldwin. Harry Deane said to me, 'Give me a match to light a fag.' I gave him a match; then he gathered up a lot of straw; then he struck the match and lit the straw close to the haystack. Then Daniel Deane put it out. Then Harry Deane struck another match and lit some loose hay close to the stack, and it then flamed all up the side of the stack. Then we all ran away into Lordship Lane. Harry Deane ran across Andrew's field, and some men who I do not know ran after him, and we did not see him again. We others ran up Lordship Lane to Wood Green Fire Station. We knocked at the door, but could make no one hear. Edward Baldwin, Edward Cooper and George Baldwin went to Finsbury Park; Daniel Deane and I came back down Lordship Lane to the fire. We then ran across the fields and a policeman ran after us, and he and Alfred Curtis caught us, and then I told the policeman who set both places on fire.—FREDERICK MARDELL"—other statements were made by the lads, but their evidence was not taken at the Police-court—after the charge was taken Deane said, "I set fire to the stable and Mardell set fire to the stack"—the prisoner said, "No, I did not; you set fire to both"—the amount of damage is £150.
GUILTY .— Three Days' Imprisonment, and Twelve Strokes with the Birch Rod.
MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON appeared for Merritt and MR. ROOTH for Blunt.
THOMAS HOLLOWAY . I am manager of the works department of the stores of the London County Council, who are carrying out a scheme for housing the working classes at Shoreditch—at the end of last year I took on from 80 to 100 workmen, and the two prisoners were among them—Merritt was timekeeper, and Blunt a labourer and handy man—Blunt had access to the office where Merritt was employed—Merritt kept a time-book like this, in which he entered the number of hours each man worked, and the rate of wages he was entitled to, at the end of the week—it was his duty on Friday to make out the pay-sheet, which would be sent up to the office, and on Saturday a clerk came down to pay the wages—if a man cannot draw his wages there are printed forms kept for the purpose, and on one being presented to the pay clerk on Saturday he would pay—if the man did not present his authority, the wages would be returned to the head office, and he would have to apply on a special form which he would get from the foreman, authorising him to go to the head office and take his pay—each man when he comes to work has a metal ticket given him with a number—the men are employed by number, and the numbers are entered in the time-book and in the pay-sheet—in this pay sheet, made out by Merritt for 28th December, here is an entry of "Williams: No. 122
21 1/2 hours at 6 1/2 d.,"making a total of 11s. 8d., and in Merritt's time-book for the same week he has written: "Williams, 122, 21 1/2 hours"—that is put down on three different days—two Williamses are entered for the same week, and are entered Nos. 138 and 113—I know from the foreman that two Williams's were employed on the job that week—Williams No. 138 was paid 4s. 8d., and Williams 113 is marked "Not paid," as being absent—Williams No. 15 is on the pay-sheet, but not in the time-book—he is entitled on the pay-sheet to 19 1/2 hours, 10s. 7d.—two time-books, A and B, were kept this week, and he is in the second book—there are four Williams's entered in the time-book and time-sheet for that week—Williams No.115 appears to have been paid that week, but not the other three—at the end of pay-sheet B for the following week, 4th January, the names of the three Williams's 113, 122, and 138, who have not drawn their pay, are entered—No.113 was paid 11s. 8d. for the week ending 31st December; No.122, 11s. 8d. for the week ending 28th December; and No. 138, 4s. 8d. for the same week—in the time-book for the week ending 8th February, 1895, the name of Palmer, No.15, is entered 22 1/2 hours, and Sutton, No. 31, 23 1/2 hours—they were not working that week, but I find them both entered in the pay-sheet in Merritt's writing—they appear to have been paid, by the pay-sheet—in consequence of something which came to my knowledge, on 21st February I sent for the two prisoners to my office, and asked Merritt to explain how Palmer was paid for the week ending February 8th when he was not at work—he said that the original Palmer had left, and another man of the same name had been put on in his place—if a man leaves, the foreman has the engaging of a fresh man—I said, "That is rather peculiar," and asked him the same question with regard to Sutton—he made the same reply, that Sutton had left, and another man bearing the same name was taken on, and he gave him the same number—I said to Blunt, "Had you any authority to take Sutton's money?"—he said that he had, and that he took it and gave it to Sutton just outside the hoarding—I showed him ticket D, signed "J. Sutton," and asked him if that was Sutton's signature—he said, "Yes."
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. When a man is engaged he receives a metal ticket—his name is given, but I do not know many of their names personally—I can only tell by the books how many Palmers, Suttons, or Williams there were—when a man comes in the morning he drops his ticket into a box; and when they go to breakfast they take the tickets off the board, and when they come back they return them—if. a man did not receive the money he could get a special form from the foreman—he can get it at once; he would not have to go on the Saturday—when he gets the authority anybody he appoints could get the money any day of the week—the authority, when obtained, is equivalent to a bank-note, or cheque—when he has entered the time in the book he has to make up the pay-sheet—the ganger allowed the foreman to engage men at the beginning, but that has been stopped—the men change numbers; a man may be 13 at one part of the job, and 120 at another—he bears an excellent character—I engaged him—I made no inquiries at all—he had been with us fifteen or eighteen months before; and until this day in February, when I called him up, no complaint had been made against him—I do not know his father, but I know they are respectable people—he was always
timekeeper—he was recommended to me by a gentleman I have great confidence in—if a man wanted to go away the foreman would identify him—he gets a knowledge of men's faces.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. The person is identified both by his number and his name—he is paid on the badge and the name too—Merritt enters it in the book and the timekeeper would know—two Williams's are correct—I do not know either of them personally—I only went there about once a week and had no opportunity of becoming acquainted with the names and faces of the workmen—all documents go up to the chief clerk—if a person is unwell he can leave and come back a week afterwards when he recovers, and during the time he is away he would have the metal badge with him—we had a man named Bowdell working there—I am prepared to swear that two men named Palmer were not working there on February 8th—if a man wants to get his money in that week he can get it from the foreman; a good many workmen have been paid in that way—Blunt was not suggested by my foreman as being a likely and proper person to whom workmen should go if they wanted substituted pay—I never heard a word against Blunt—he told me he could not read—Williams 113 is not a fictitious person—he was absent from work for a whole week—he has given the information himself that he was away—Merritt had been timekeeper previously elsewhere—you may call the signature to this form J., or S., or T. Sutton—it is not Albert Reuben sutton; he is the man we are going to call to-day.
By the JURY. Some of the men who are absent are filled in as if they were there—the foreman signs the pay-sheet on Saturday after the men have been paid—it would be impossible for the foreman to check the number of men at work during the day, but every precaution is taken—I trusted entirely to Merritt—I have had experience in the largest works in London—we get reports from the timekeeper from day to day, and if there is reason to doubt it is compared with the timekeeper's book—there is a double return, and it is the duty of somebody in the central office to compare the two.
FREDERICK REED . I am one of the pay clerks of the London County Council, Belvedere Road—Merritt was the timekeeper and Blunt a labourer and handy man—the wages are made out on pay-sheets on Fridays, and on Saturdays the wages are paid by clerks who come down—this sheet A was made out by Merritt; there are three Williams's on it Nos. 15, 38, and 122; Williams 15 has 25 1/2 hours, 11s. 8d.; he was not paid that day, nor was Williams No. 38—sheet E, for December 31st, is in Merritt's writing—Williams's Nos. 15, 38, and 122 appear on it—No. 113 was not paid that week, the other two were—according to this sheet there are no back payments due to No. 113—on the sheet of December 28th back payments are due to Williams 38, 8 hours, 4s. 7d., and Williams 122, 23 1/2 hours, 11s. 8d.—sheet B, for the week ending January 4th, is in Merritt's writing; there are five Williams's in it; No. 15, 43 1/2 hours, 14s. 6 1/2 d.—No. 38 is for the week only—Williams No. 113 was due on December 21st, and, Williams 122, December 28th, 11s. 8d.—I paid them all five together on January 5th—this is the receipt of Williams 113, and this of Williams 38—I took no receipt of Williams No. 15—I paid him on his metal ticket—I do not take a receipt if it is for the current week, if it is for a back week I do—on 28th
December I paid Blunt for Williams 122, on his own responsibility, and got this receipt from Blunt for 11s.8d.—the body of it is Merritt's writing—if the man was absent there would be no irregularity in Merritt filling it up, but it would not be usual—a good many of these men are excavators and very illiterate—in sheet 3, for February 8th, here is "Palmer No. 15, 23 1/2 hours, at 6 1/2 d., 12s. 9d."—I paid that to the man who produced the ticket, it is for the current week on the metal ticket and no name—I should not know the man at all—document I is signed by Palmer as paid by me on February 9th—this is the ticket; it is authority to Bowdell to receive the money—I only take a receipt when the money is for the previous week—this says, "I authorise you to pay the amount due to me on the pay list to Bowdell.—F. BLUNT"—where it is for the current week the man acting as attorney does not sign, but for the past week he does—on the same pay-sheet for February 8th here is "Sutton 31, 23 hours, 12s. 9d."—I paid that on the authority of this document D for the current week, I do not know to whom; the body of it is Merritt's writing.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. The body of it is occasionally in the timekeeper's writing—there is nothing unusual in it—I do not always hear the names when they are called out, only the numbers.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. We identify them by the metal, we pay on the numbers only—the timekeeper's report is always countersigned by the foreman after it is paid—the foreman is the only check on the timekeeper—some of the men work in gangs—some of the sheets are countersigned by the foreman on Friday.
GORDON BARCLAY . I am foreman of the works going on in Boun dary Street, Shoreditch—it is my duty to engage the men—I do not know all the men who are employed—I keep a check on the timekeeper as far as I can, by going round occasionally and counting the men at work—I occasionally look at his book, but cannot always find them there if a man is away ill or taken off his work—ninety men are employed daily on an average—if a man has to receive another man's wages, the usual course is for him to go to the timekeeper and fill up the form, and the timekeeper would acquaint me of it; sometimes on Saturday they do not apply for their money, and it is taken back to the head office—if a man was ill and did not receive his money, we should receive a notice from him authorising another person to receive it on his behalf, and the same sort of ticket would be filled up mentioning the name of the person who was to draw it—as far as I know three Williams's were engaged on the job—two of them, Benjamin and William, are in Court; their numbers are 113 and 38; 15 is absent—I cannot identify any other Williams as employed in the week ending 28th December, but there are no others booked—apart from Merritt's time-book I know nothing of Williams 122, but there may have been one, the books say that he was there—two Williams's are put down on the same date, I knew Sutton, employed on the job—I do not know from my personal knowledge that he was not employed on the job in the week ending 8th February, but I know it from the books—he is here as a witness, and I recognise him—Palmer I know as employed on the job, but only since this case—my business is to engage the men, and sometimes I depute it to the under foreman—about eight or nine fresh hands were engaged from 28th December to 8th
February, and some were engaged by Bailey, the foreman of the excavators, by my authority—I saw some of them engaged, and gave him instructions how many to engage—after December 28th, Bailey said "We will have a few more on to-morrow"—he sometimes set on more than I thought was necessary, and I told him not to set on any more without consulting me, and he stopped it—eight or nine men were, I think, taken on; he would take them into the office and get their names taken by the timekeeper, who would put them in his time-book—there is no separate record; if the last number was 90, he would make the next 91, or if he was a timber-man he would take up the running number of the timber-men—I was a good many years in the trade before I was connected with the London County Council—there is not a ganger over every four, only over every dozen—it is not the practice in all cases to check the time through the gangers, but that is the usual practice—I have been on a job before where there is absolutely no check on the timekeeper—in the entry of Palmer's name in the time-book the figures do not look like the same ink in the entry of Sutton's name; the ink looks different to the figures of the number of hours Sutton is supposed to have worked—I do not see a line drawn as if it had been blank that week—I saw Blunt receive the 11s. 8d. for Williams, and sign for it in our office.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. When men are engaged there is no separate register of their names—I said, from memory, at the Police-court, that no fresh men were taken on from December 28th to February 8th; but I have refreshed my memory from what you may call a fair copy of Merritt's book—I am no more responsible than you may be—Mr. Holloway is in authority under me—the work is not done by contract—gangers used to set on without my seeing the men, or knowing their names.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. If you keep one hundred men there it is impossible to know who or what they are—if they were divided into five, six, or seven, and a ganger over each, it might be an efficient check on the timekeeper; but the London County Council might, perhaps, consider the cost—on one occasion I suggested that Blunt was a proper person to be substituted to receive payment—the men's wages are 6 1/2 d. per hour.
Re-examined. I kept this letter book, and made daily reports to the manager—I took from Merritt, the timekeeper, the number of men that is put on the daily report—I report daily the number of men employed each day, and I got that number from Merritt; the body of the report is made up by the timekeeper—according to my daily report, the number of men employed on Monday, 4th February, was sixty-six; according to Merritt's time-book, as it now appears, there were sixty-seven—on Tuesday, 5th February, eighty-three were employed according to my daily report; according to Merritt's time-book, eighty-five—on 6th February there were seventy-three, according to my daily report; seventy-four according to Merritt's time-book—the numbers on Thursday and Friday correspond—these are press copies of Merritt's daily reports—they are made up every night from his books—he fills in the number of men himself—he makes up the daily report, and this is the press copy of it—the lower portion is in my writing—I went through the book this morning, to check the figures—my handy man, Hasty, went through it
with me—Merritt would enter on the day of the occurrence, from his own books, the number of men working, and it is sent up every evening.
WILLIAM BAILEY . I am a ganger, employed at the Boundary Street scheme of the London County Council works department—while that job has been going on I have sometimes engaged men—my duties are to look after the men and see they do their work in a proper kind of way, and see that the work is carried on properly—I have nothing to do with the time—I recollect engaging one Palmer (Palmer was called into Court)—that is the man; his name is Jim or James Palmer—I engaged Sutton as an excavator—they worked till the severe frost came—I engaged no other Palmer or Sutton, after those men, that I am aware of—26th January would be the frost, and I did not engage any fresh men after the long spell of frost began, somewhere about 26th or 27th, I should think—I should think there were fewer men at work after the frost—there would be no excavating in weather like we had—they were not paid during that frost.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON.—A number of men were engaged in February—I do not take down the names of men; I refer them to the timekeeper for that—Merritt takes their names—I have to look after them and see they do their work—I have nothing to do with the books—there were as many as 100 working during the open weather—the works could not proceed during the frost—there was a general stoppage, but men were employed, the ganger, foreman, timekeeper, and half a dozen men as well; that was the number at the latter end of the frost—fifty or sixty men were not engaged every day during the frost—I do not know if the Sutton here to-day is Albert Reuben Sutton—I have known Palmer for years; I knew his name was Jim Palmer—I am certainly not prepared to swear that there was not another Palmer.
By the COURT.—On 5th February eighty-three men were employed—there were a number of timber-men employed on this job, and they would be not so much affected by the frost—I had forgotten them when I said half a dozen men—they would make the number about eleven.
BENJAMIN WILLIAMS . I came on to the job at Boundary Street on 17th December, and worked for three days, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, in that week, making 21 1/2 hours, which would come to 11s. 8d.—on the Thursday in that week I was ill and did not go to work—my ticket number was 113—I did not work the following week, ending 28th December, but I came back on 7th January, and went to work with the same number, 113—I gave that number up when I reported myself ill, but I had the same number when I came back—after I had been there a little time after 7th January my number was changed to 64—on 5th January I collected the 11s. 8d. for the week I went away ill, and gave this receipt, signed "B. Williams"—this document signed in my name, authorising Blunt to collect 11s. 8d. for me for the week ending 28th December, is not my writing; I did not authorise anyone to sign it, nor to collect the money for me—he never handed me any money—I know nothing about it.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I do not know how many Williams's were engaged on the job—I did not know the names of the other men.
Cross-examined by MR. ROOTH. I had seen Blunt—I don't know whether he could read or write.
WILLIAM WILLIAMS . I am a timber-man—I was at work on this Boundary Street job; at the latter part of October and November, I believe it was—in the week ending 28th December I was only at work on one day, the Friday—I earned 4s. 8d., which I drew on the following Saturday week, 5th January, and signed this receipt ("G") for it—I know nothing of this document, signed "B. Williams," for 11s. 8d., and receipted "J. Blunt."
JAMES PALMER . I am a general labourer—I started on this Boundary Street job about 9th January, and worked up to 26th January—about then the bad frost began, and I did not work for the London County Council after that—I went to Mowlem's soon afterwards—I did not work for the London County Council on this job in the week ending 4th February—I did not authorise anyone to collect 12s. 9d. for wages for the week ending 12th February—I know nothing of this receipt signed "Palmer"—I never had the money.
ALBERT REUBEN SUTTON . I am a general labourer—I was engaged on this Boundary Street job, starting about three weeks before Christmas and working up to 26th January, when the frost began—I knocked off on account of the frost—I went on the same job again on 21st February—I did not work anywhere in the week ending 8th February; it was hard frost all that week—I did not authorise anyone to collect 12s. 9d. for me for that week ending 8th February, and I never received any money for that week—I know nothing of this receipt.
Cross-examined by MR. HUTTON. I do not know if there were other men named Sutton there or not—I was paid my wages—if I had received anything on this ticket I should have received more than was due to me.
Re-examined. I did not hear of anyone else named Sutton while I worked there.
By the COURT. The men on a job are called Bill, or Jim, or Harry—I might work with a man for weeks and never know his surname—there might be a man named Sutton and I not know it—the names are not all called out on pay day; they go by the numbers—I should not pay attention to any name but my own, and the moment I get my money I go away.
G BARCLAY (Re-examined). The frost varied; sometimes it was too sharp for us to work, and occasionally we worked a day or two and then stopped—I think my daily report will give the state of the weather—this report is in Merritt's writing—on 4th February fifty excavators were employed, and they were working on that day—the 5th was frosty; we had eighty-three at work, sixty-six excavators working—on the Wednesday it was frosty; we had seventy-three at work, fifty excavators—we worked as far as we could till Mr. Holloway considered it was too hard for us, and then we stopped.
WILLIAM PEARCE (Detective H).—On 23rd February I arrested Blunt on a warrant which I read to him, and which charged him with stealing 11s. 8d., the moneys of the London County Council, his masters—he made no reply then—on the way to the Police-court from the station he said, "A man named Sutton asked me to take his money for him. I told him to get his ticket, and bring it to me; I took it for him"—that was the only charge made against him at that time—on 25th February I arrested Merritt—I told him I was a police officer, and had a warrant for
his arrest—it charged him with making false entries in a time-book and pay-sheet belonging to his employers, the London County Council—he said, "I suppose, then, I must go"—when charged by the inspector he said, "It is not true."
FREDERICK REID (Re-examined). I have no recollection of the person to whom I paid the money represented by the document to have been paid to Sutton—I should pay it on presentation at the window—I see "Blunt" at the bottom of it, where he has been authorised to receive the money—there is no other case in which I am able to connect Blunt with it.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoners for forging and uttering authorities for the payment of money, upon which no evidence was offered by the prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BURROW Prosecuted.
GEORGE DICKENSON . I live at 9, Ecclesbourne Road, Islington, and am a steam sawyer—on Saturday night, 2nd March, about eleven, I was in Ecclesbourne Road, with a little grandchild, three or four yards from my own door, when the prisoner, whom I knew well, said, "What, you, Dick?" and up with his fist and knocked me off the pavement into the road; and as soon as I was down he was on top of me, and put his hand into my pocket and took every farthing I had—he took half a sovereign and eight or nine shillings—I said, "Give me my money"—he went away and he came back, and I said, "If you don't give it back to me I will lock you up"—and I locked him up.
EMILY EVER . I live at 13, Ecclesbourne Road—I was in that road on 2nd March, a little after eleven p.m., with the prosecutor—I was walking down the street behind him, and the prisoner was standing at the corner—I passed and went to our door, and I heard a scuffle, and went back and saw the prisoner run—the prosecutor was then lying on the ground—the prisoner had got up, and ran away round the corner—about two minutes after the prisoner came back, and I asked him what he wanted to knock the poor old man down like that for—he said, "Did you see me do it?"—I said, "I did not see you knock him down, but I saw you get off him and run away"—he said, "Do you want to swear my life away, you little cow?" and he gave me a punch in the face twice—I got out of the way.
Cross-examined. You stood talking to the prosecutor when I passed—when you came back he said to you, "Give me the money you took out of my pocket"—I did not see you knock him down, but I saw you get up and run away—I did not see where you ran to.
BRASIER. I am a joiner, of 42, Finsbury Street—I was in Ecclesbourne Road at 11.15 on this night—I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor on the ground struggling together—the prisoner got up and ran away, and in about two minutes he came back—I saw the prisoner smack the girl's face twice.
Cross-examined. I was not called to give evidence the same day.
man in charge for knocking me down and robbing me in Ecclesbourae Road"—I said, "All right," and took him into custody—on the way to the station the prisoner said, "I came round the corner; the prosecutor shouted, 'Hulloa, Dicky' and he then accused me of knocking him down and robbing him"—the prosecutor had evidently been drinking; he was not drunk—he had a violent blow over the right eye, which was discoloured; his cheek was cut—he looked as if he had been rolled in the gutter—his clothes and face were muddy—I searched the prisoner at the station; I found 2d. on him—he gave his name and address.
Cross-examined. You came in front of the prosecutor.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that he saw the prosecutor with two or three people round him; that the prosecutor accused him of robbing him; that the prosecutor was so drunk that he could hardly stand; and that he (the prisoner) took him to the constable on the point.
GUILTY of Robbery.
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in September, 1893. The constable stated that the prisoner was a violent man and a terror to his neighbourhood.
Twenty-two Months' Hard Labour.
MR. MATHEWS and MR. MOYSES Prosecuted; MR. MUIR Defended.
Before plea MR. MUIR moved to quash the indictment. There were separate assignments of perjury, contained in different counts. Besides the assignments contained in the committal, there were other assignments upon which no committal was obtained from the Magistrate, and there were charges as to which the Magistrate had said the prisoner had nothing to answer. Application had previously been made to the COURT for leave to add counts, and the COURT had refused such leave upon hearing that the proposed counts were in respect of matters upon which the Magistrate had refused to commit. Either the facts appeared on the depositions or they did not; if they did, the Magistrate refused to commit in respect of them; if they did not appear, then there was no authority under the Vexatious Indictment Act to add counts in respect of them without leave. Every count in the indictment contained assignments of perjury, which either were not before the Magistrate, or upon which he refused to commit, and there fore every count was embarrassing by reason of fresh matter being joined as to which there was no committal (Q. v. Aylmer; Q. v. Meaves; Q. v. Lord Mayor of London, 16, Cox). MR. MATHEWS contended that Count 3rd was perfectly founded on the committal, and that it was not touched by MR. MUIR'S argument. As to the other counts, the COURT had power under Statute to amend the indictment by striking out assignments as to matters not disclosed in the depositions. All the counts dealt with the offence charged in the indictment, upon which the Magistrate had committed, and the charge was not altered or aggravated by the added counts. MR. MOYSES followed upon the same side (Q. v. Brown, 1, 2 B., 1895, p. 119.) The COMMON SERJEANT quashed the first and second counts, as they contained matters embarrassing, and not contained in the depositions; and Counts 4th 5th, and 6th, as they were founded on assignments upon which the Magistrate had refused to commit, the prosecutor not having availed himself of his opportunity of being bound over to prosecute in respect of them. With regard to the third count
the COMMON SERJEANT desired a further affidavit to he filed, as there was conflict of fact as to the Magistrate's ruling, and further consideration of that count would be adjourned till next Session.
FOURTH COURT.—Monday, March 25th, 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. KEMP, Q.C., and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted, and MESSRS.
C. MATHEWS, C. F. GILL, and H. AVORY Defended.
HENRY MULLER . I am a clerk in the service of Lothar Lehnart, at 46, Queen Victoria Street—on 24th October I purchased this copy of The Kohnische Volkszeitung of 18th October, at Segel's library, at Lime Street, in the City—the London office of that paper is 142, Clerkenwell Road—I was present at the Guildhall when Emile Hesse was prosecuted on account of this libel—the prisoner then went into the witness box on his behalf—I heard him say that he was responsible for the publication of this libel.
Cross-examined. I have been employed by Lehnart for about three years—Emile Hesse was first charged with being the author of this article—Reuschel was away from England at the time of the first hearing—he returned, hearing that Hesse was charged, and came to the Police-court, and took upon himself the full responsibility for writing and publishing the libel—Lehnart's office consists of three rooms on the fourth floor at 46, Queen Victoria Street—there are two entrances to that house, one in Queen Victoria Street and one in Queen's Buildings, Pancras Lane—outside and on the doors of the offices are the names, L. Lehnart, Limited, and Liman and Co.—Lehnart was registered as a company on 6th March this year, these proceedings having been instituted in October or November, 1894—I have been not quite three years at 46, Queen Victoria Street—there used to be up there the name of L. Lehnart—"Liman and Company" was up at that entrance; I never saw it at the Pancras Lane entrance—I never saw any names there—I go in by the Queen Victoria Street entrance, and sometimes by the other entrance—Opitz was with Lehnart about six months before I went there, three years ago in June—about five years ago I was introduced to Opitz in the German Club—I understood from Lehnart that Opitz was his manager, and he acted as his manager—people coming and inquiring for Lehnart would, if Lehnart was out, be shown in to Opitz, and would say, "Mr. Lehnart"—previously you went first into the clerks' room, the large office—there used to be five or six clerks—there are not so many now—anyone calling would go through the clerks' room into Opitz's room, and from that into Lehnart's room—there was a separate entrance into Lehnart's room, but the door was locked, and the only practical entrance was through Opitz's room—that arrangement is changed; you enter now the small room that used to be Opitz's, and there the clerk and myself are seated, and what used to be Lehnart's room is now Opitz's, and the larger room, which used to be for the clerks, is now occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Lehnart—she has
been a clerk there for about three or four months—Opitz was manager, and we had to obey his orders—I never heard Opitz say that he was Lehnart's partner—I have been told that Liman and Co. belonged to Lehnart, but I did not know who Liman was—as far as I know the business was Lehnart's—I believe that Lehnart was a director, and Opitz the secretary of Lehnart and Co.—there was one other director, Mr. Picker or Mr. Pickert; I am not quite clear about him—I cannot mention anyone beyond those who formed Liman and Co.—I heard that Mr. Weiss was a shareholder in Lehnart and Co.—before 1892 I saw Lehnart and Opitz in the German Club together just to say good day to; they were at a separate table—they knew each other; I cannot say if they were as intimate then as they were afterwards—I could not say if I ever heard other people describe Opitz as Lehnart's partner; I was always under the impression that he was his manager—I don't remember that people said in my hearing that Opitz was Lehnart's partner.
Re-examined. I have never known Opitz in any other capacity than that of manager—I think Lehnart came to 46, Queen Victoria Street in the spring of 1892, and he has continued there to the present time—I am a clerk and an inquiry officer—the business is to provide agents, and collect debts, to which Mr. Opitz attends—he has nothing to do with the inquiry business; that is only done by Lehnart and myself.
HENRY GELD . I live at 92, Paul Street, Finsbury—I am by profession a translator of languages—I am well acquainted with German—in the issue of this paper of 18th October I find an article headed "The Swindlers"—this is a correct translation of it—in the issue of 15th November is an article, "More About the Swindlers"—this is a correct translation of it.
Cross-examined. The word translated as "filched" means "stealing on the quiet," not "recovered."
(The translations of the libels were read. They in substance charged Lehnart with conspiring with other persons to defraud German manufacturers.)
Cross-examined. I have three small rooms on the fourth floor at 46, Queen Victoria Street—on the doors are the names of L. Lehnart, Limited, and Liman and Co.—Liman and Co. is a Berlin firm established in 1879 or 1880, and I hold their agency for London, from February, 1886, until to-day—the Berlin firm has sold its business to someone else; I made an agreement with Messrs. Liman to still keep on the name of the firm—I have that agreement—I produce different papers relating to it—the agreement was that I paid them a certain consideration, and here is the bill drawn on me—we exchanged letters about it, and I paid them this bill—I have not got the agreement or the letters here, but I have the different forms, and all that relates to Liman and Co.; the letters are in Cologne, where I have another lawsuit; there was a long correspondence
about it in 1887 and 1888—the name of Liman and Co., from 1889 to 1895, continued to be outside my office—I have been three years at Queen Victoria Street—before that I was at 14, Trinity Square, as the accredited agent of Jhanke and Falksch, a Hamburg firm—I lost that agency through these libels, on 23rd October, 1894—no one but myself in England represents, or is known as, Liman and Co.—Lehnart has been Lehnart and Co. since 6th March, 1895—I am the director—Gustav Opitz is the secretary—his Christian names are Bernhard Gustav, as far as I know, at all times—I have the greatest possible confidence in him; he is honest and respectable—he was formerly my manager, and is now the secretary of the company of which I am director—Lehnart was turned into a company in order to get more money, through the sale, to fight these frivolous law suits; there is this and others connected with it—the memorandum of association is dated 6th March—the secretary is here; it is his duty to give information about the number of shareholders—Opitz was my manager—I have known him about twelve years—I cannot say I knew him intimately, but I knew him in a general way for twelve years past—it is my business to inform myself with regard to people and their characters—when people called and asked for me, Opitz has said he was Lehnart; he was engaged chiefly to receive ninetenths of all the visitors, because I could not see them all—people coming say, "Is Mr. Lehnart in?" and he would say, "Yes," and would talk to them, but there would be no misrepresentation about it—I occupied three rooms; the first was the clerks', the second Optiz's, and the third mine—in the old days they had to come through Opitz's room to get to mine—my room was not large enough for my purpose, so I have since taken the other one—the change of rooms was made in December last—Opitz had clerks to write the letters; he dictates the correspondence, and has shorthand clerks and so on—before the publication of the libel I had nine people; now I have only five; the libel has had great effect—Opitz signed "Lehnart" with my authority, because I could not always sign fifty or sixty letters—I was out a good deal—he might have had time to put "pp.," but he did not do it—I heard Opitz examined and cross-examined at the Clerkenwell Police-court—that did not shake my confidence in him—nothing was proved against him—I believe he said that in 1885 he knew Sugar—I cannot tell you if he said that he would call Sugar a swindler, and that he was one in 1885—it has perhaps slipped from my memory—I did not hear him say that he had traded as Martin, Cohen and Co, of Bombay—I swear he did not say, "I traded as Martin, Cohen and Co."—he said he was the London partner in the firm of Martin, Cohen and Co.—I only knew he was interested in that firm; whether he was a partner or not I cannot say—the date of that may or may not have been 1885 or 1886—I cannot tell you if he said that simultaneously he was interested in the firm of John Mowatt and Co., of 17, Great St. Helen's—he said Mowatt was a gentleman of China and Japan; it was a different firm—I heard Opitz say he had opened a banking account about 6th September, 1886, in his own name of Gustav Opitz, at the London and North-Western Distinct Bank, and that I gave him the reference—I heard him say that on 9th October he had opened an account at the London and North-Western District Bank for Walter Arnold and Co., the Australian people—I did not know that there had been a bankruptcy notice against him in June, 1885; I have
nothing to do with his private affairs; I should not inquire into them till I was asked—he was not my confidential employe till lately—I was his reference to the bank in 1886—I did not know that a third bankruptcy notice was presented against him in December, 1886—I heard him say something to the effect that he opened, in the name of Louis Lancaster Clarke and Co., a third banking account on 30th December, 1886, with the London Trading Bank—I did not know that his wife's maiden name was Louise Lancaster Clarke; I cannot say whether he said it was—I don't think I heard him give as a reason that his wife's maiden name was Louise Lancaster Clarke—I only knew when I saw it in the London Gazette. that there was a petition in bankruptcy against Opitz in January, 1887—a receiving order was made against him on 28th January, 1887—I cannot say if there were produced to him at the Police-court a number of cheques, drawn by him before and after the receiving order had been presented, in the name of L. L. Clarke and Co.—I still believe in Opitz's honesty, or he would not be with me—I know nothing of false names—I know Opitz's writing very well—this signature "G. Opitz" is his to the best of my belief; I have not seen this document before—I see at the back of the document, as references, Mr. Hume and Mr. Lehnart, of 14, Trinity Square—I described Opitz as a respectable man, and so on; that was my honest opinion at the time—the signature, "Walter Arnold," on this document may be in his writing, or it may not—I am not an expert in handwriting, and I will not take the responsibility of saying—the signature, "Louis L. Clarke," is not in his writing; it does not look like his; I am not an expert—I cannot remember exactly whether I heard Opita admit before the Magistrate that it was in his writing—he failed for something over £6,000—very likely I heard him say at the Police-court that that was so—I knew nearly nothing about the bankruptcy—I saw the alleged debtors of Opitz in the lists; even I had to make a claim against him, not myself, but for a customer—I could not tell you if alleged debtors against the estate were Morris, Brandt and Co. or Messrs. Bernard and Co.—it might be that according to the statement he failed for something over £2,000 for debts contracted in the name of Gustav Opitz, and that the balance of £4,000, according to the statement he made, was a balance which he had been made responsible for, because he was a partner in the firms of Martin, Cohen and Co., of Bombay, and John Mowatt and Co., of London—I heard that Opitz left England at the end of 1885 in a coal ship going to Bombay from Cardiff—I heard him say he attended a lot of meetings of his creditors—I know he only attended the first meeting for himself, but I heard him say that he attended a lot of meetings; perhaps they were not all his own affairs—he had to go on urgent business to Bombay—he went in the coal ship to Bombay in 1885, and he returned in the early part of 1886—I heard him say that in March, 1887, a situation was offered him in Bombay by a firm of merchants, which he accepted, as he could not get a situation in London, and he stayed there several years—he was not in the names of John Mowatt or Walter Arnold—he was always trying to earn an honest living; am I not allowed to engage man of ability who has failed once?—is he the only man in London who has failed?—since Opitz's examination at the Police-court he has been promoted from being manager of my business to being the secretary
of my company; I have not done it, the meeting of the company has done it—I believe I am an honourable man—why should not I give a character to Lehnart, if I was applied to as Liman?—but I don't think I had any opportunity to do it—there was no occasion to give a character as Liman, when I was applied to as Lehnart—I cannot answer such questions off-hand; it depends on the question put to me from the Continent—Q. If a man resident in England came to you and suggested that goods should be obtained from a manufacturer abroad, which when they came here should be seized for the benefit of the man who came to you, and the manufacturer Abroad should be done out of his goods, would you listen to it? A. If the manufacturer owes money on a judgment to an Englishman, why should not he seize his goods? Q. Let me ask you further, would you be a party to the ordering of these goods, in another name than that of your friend, from the manufacturer, in order to get them over here? A. A man can order whatever he likes, I have nothing to do with it—I should not have any occasion to be a party to goods being ordered in the name of a third person unknown to the manufacturer, in order to conceal the matter—I can hardly tell you whether for money I would engage in that transaction; it depends entirely upon the circumstances; mention a special case, and I will give you a definite answer—the signature to this letter is mine—it is in my own writing—it is 15th August, 1893—I knew Mr. Van Raalte in August, 1893—he wanted to place an order with a manufacturer in Chemnitz—I cannot tell you whether he had had some goods from the same manufacturer for which he had not paid—I believe Mr. Van Raalte had a judgment against the manufacturer—Van Raalte had not obtained from the manufacturer in Chemnitz goods for which he had not paid—Van Raalte pays everybody—I don't know much about Van Raalte's affairs except in a general way—I cannot tell you whether the German manufacturer brought an action against Van Raalte, or whether the German manufacturer was ordered to find security for costs, or whether he failed to find security——he had a judgment against some German manufacturer—I could not tell you whether that was the action started by the German manufacturer against Van Raalte for goods for which Van Raalte had not paid—Van Raalte mentioned the judgment he had got to me in conversation—I did not quite agree with him that if he wanted to get more goods from the German manufacturer he must not order them in his own name, but that the goods were to be ordered in the name of Mr. Vonleschik—I did not agree that the goods were to be ordered by Mr. Vonleschik; that when they came to England they should be seized at the instance of Van Raalte, sold for the profit of Van Raalte; and that I and Vonleschik were to stand in with Van Raalte for the proceeds, you are asking me matters for which I am not prepared—I have hundreds of cases in a month—I deny that I played a dishonourable part in that transaction—this letter from myself to Mr. Vonleschik is written by my clerk, but signed by me. (This letter, dated 15th August, 1893, stated that Van Raalte had had an action brought against him by a manufacturer at Chemnitz, but that as the manufacturer had not given security for costs he had lost the case, and was indebted to Van Raalte in nearly £90 ; that as Van Raalte would like to get the money he would put Vonleschik forward to give an order to the manufacturer at Chemnitz,
and that as soon as the goods arrived in London they would be seized by the Sheriff for Van Raalte on the English judgment, and that Van Raalte was willing to pay £10, to be divided between Vonleschik and the writer for their trouble, and that lie should like to meet and confer with him.)—this card was given to Mr. Van Raalte for him to present to Mr. Vonleschik, and on the front of it is my name, and on the back of it, written by me, "Mr. Vonleschik, to introduce Mr. Van Raalte about the business which I mentioned to you in several letters, "but that card has a different bearing—this is not with regard to it—I cannot explain this letter—it is not the letter as I should have written it—I remember there was a question about this transaction at the time—I did not deny the transaction just now. Q. Is that letter written by an honest man; yes or no to that? A. No, the clerk did not write the letter carefully—I heard Opitz say before the Magistrate that he was employed in London as the secretary of the Eastern Exchange, between February, 1890, and January, 1894—to the best of my belief that was true, and he was at the Eastern Exchange, Lime Street, between those dates—I cannot say I knew him well in those years—I knew him as I do a lot of other people—I knew what he was doing generally—he was several times in India—the second time he was there was from 1887 to 1889—I do not know of any other absence of his from England, except when he went in 1885 and in 1887—he was here partly from 1889 to 1895—he became my manager in February, 1892—he did not come to me direct from the Eastern Exchange; within a very short time he did—he was out of employment for perhaps a few months before he came to me; I cannot give you correctly the dates—I did not make inquiry—he attended to my business before he came, for a little time—I had to go to the Continent several times, and he looked after my things, once in the winter of 1891 and again in the January of 1892—from the winter of 1891 he was more or less engaged in looking after my affairs in my absence—it came to my knowledge that Mr. Bernhard Opitz was applying to people abroad to represent them, as an agent in a journey he was about to take to the East—I was asked to report upon him—I cannot say I gave him excellent testimonials, but people asked me, and I asked him whether he was going out to the East, and I spoke of him as a thoroughly trustworthy man, as he is—I remember the correspondence between myself and Mr. Bernhard Opitz and the Company at Leige—Messrs. William Schmeisser are inquiry agents in Berlin—we had a lot of transactions with them—they corresponded with us, and took information from me for some years—in 1892 that connection closed—that was not in consequence of what they alleged to be a trick that I had played upon them, that I know of—6,000 or 7,000 letters have been exchanged between us—I thought that these were confidential reports—I replied to the confidential inquiry from Messrs. William Schmeisser by this letter. (Stating that he could obtain information as to firms in the East within two or three days; that lie sent a report as to how the business was transacted; that his reporter had spent the last twenty years in the East, and was now with his family on a recreation tour in England, and that he should advise that the reporter be directly communicated with.)—I enclosed in my letter this document purporting to be the statement of my reporter, and signed by G. Opitz; he gave me the information because
I did not know it myself, and I had to make inquiries from someone—Opitz was the reporter referred to in my letter—I wrote, "My reporter has spent the last twenty years in the East"; that was true—he went out to the East as far back as 1869 or 1870; he was a good deal in India, China, and Japan—he had been residing for a few years in England before he left Cardiff in the coal ship—in 1890 he was here getting together twelve manufacturers to travel for them in India and sell their goods—my letter also states, "He is now with his family on a recreation tour in England"—he was here; he wanted to go back again—his family lived in Bombay, and they came over from there and went back again—the letter was in my own writing—there is nothing untrue in those statements; Opitz had been for the last twenty years in the East—he tried to go back to India; he came in 1887—Opitz sent me the report which I forwarded to Messrs. William Schmeisser. (This report gave details of the business he could do, and of the manner in which it would be done; and stated that he was about to start on his fourth voyage round the world, and had arranged with six English firms of the first rank for a year, at £100 expenses each firm and three per cent, commission, and he would be glad to learn of others who would like to participate, as he intended to take ten agencies at £100 each.)—Opitz intended to fulfil what he told me there; he told me so—I knew he had three or four English firms already—I inquired of one firm, Barclay, not of the others—I knew when I wrote the letter that Opitz was an undischarged bankrupt; I believe there were a lot of assets—he did not want credit; he wanted money for his travelling expenses, and I did not recommend him for credit—I cannot give you very much information about that particular bankruptcy—the signature, "Bernhard Opitz," looks like his. Q. Would not you ask him why he had been Gustav up to this time and Bernhard Opitz now? A. I am not answerable for the actions of others—I never saw this before—the object of my letter to Messrs. William Schmeisser was to get employment for Opitz—I got to know later on that he entered into communication with the company at Liege for the purpose of getting an agency—I first knew that when I had the matter in hand to get back the samples and settle with them; that was some time in 1891—on or about 2nd April, 1890, I got this letter from Messrs. William Schmeisser—there is something altered in a different ink—at the bottom of it is "Please write an answer at the other side of this leaf, in strict confidence"—the inquiry is for the agency of a "Belgian Ammunition Factory"—the answer on the other side was written by one of my inquiry officers—you should ask the inquiry officer who gave the report why the name Bernhard Opitz was given—I did not write the answer—it is from my office. (This letter stated that the person inquired after had field a position in Japan, and had visited the ports of Japan and China repeatedly; that he was now for a short time in London, preparing to start in a short time on a travelling tour in the East, for a number of first-class English firms, such as Lion, Lion and Son, Barclay and Sons, Limited, Welsh, Marget on and Co., Perkin, Son and Rayment, receiving £100 for expenses, and commission from each; that, according to information given him by the firms named, the man was clever, experienced in business, and enjoyed their fullest confidence; and that he believed he could be trusted with samples to the value of 1,500 francs.)—I
inquired of Barclay, or Burge and Son—if I remember we inquired of all the four firms; Mr. Sternberg, my inquiry officer, went himself, and I believe some of the inquiries were in writing—very likely I can produce them, but I am not prepared for all these questions—Opitz, I know, paid back the money he received from those English houses—I believe he received £20, £30, or £40 on account of the journeys—Messrs. William Schmeisser asked, "Is he experienced and clever? How is his past?"—you should ask Sternberg about it; I am not doing every bit of work myself—Messrs. William Schmeisser were paying me 1s. for information, and they got their shillingsworth—I know now that Opitz got money from the Liege Company; I did not know it at the time—I did not speak to Opitz about that agency—very likely I overlooked it, or did not think of it at the time—he was not in my employment at the time—we were not enemies, but we were not so intimate as to discuss every bit of business—my inquiry officer went to those four firms; we got information from Perkin, Son and Rayment—this letter is in G. Opitz's writing; it is addressed to Perkin, Son and Rayment—I have not seen this letter before—I gave no information to Perkin, Son and Rayment; they never applied for any, according to the best of my belief—even if Opitz was giving me as a reference to the English firms, I giving him a good character to those English firms, is there anything wrong in it? I did not do it—the English firms did not apply to me, if they had done so I should have told them my honest opinion, and given Opitz an excellent character—G. or B. Opitz is his name—I did not know at the time that Opitz received in June, 1890, about £50 from the Liege Company—I first knew that he had received £50 from that company for his travelling expenses to India, in 1891—so far as I know Opitz did not leave England in 1890—he made no false representations—from what Opitz explained to me in 1891, he wanted twelve manufacturers; he only got five, and so he had not enough money to go abroad—I saw him several times in 1890—I had nothing to do with his going abroad—I asked him in 1890, "Have not you gone?"—he always said, "I have not enough firms;" he represented, "I want some more"—I knew he got samples from the Liege firm, besides the £50—those he returned—I cannot tell you whether I made any communication to Messrs. William Schmeisser as to Opitz not proceeding to the East; I do not remember it—I think Opitz went away in 1890—I am not sure whether Opitz was in England between February, 1890, and January, 1892—I might have told you an untruth—I am not accountable for him—I received this letter, of April 9th, from Messrs. William Schmeisser and Co. (This asked for information as to Mr. Bernhard Opitz.)—this is my reply, in my writing. (Stating that he had obtained information that Bernhard. Opitz had gone in July, 1890, by steamer from London to Colombo, and that it was said that he had resigned the representations which he had accepted, in order to be able to devote himself exclusively to representing an English firm, who guaranteed the whole of his travelling expenses of £1,000; that it was said he was seized with fever in Burmah and left directly for Australia; that it was pretended his samples were deposited with a firm at Colombo, and that Opitz intended to bring them back on his return from Australia; that his relations were not possessed of more detailed news, as his last letter arrived a few months back, and it was
thought the samples were already on their way back from Colombo; that if they would send him (Lehnart) a power of attorney, he would take possession of the samples as they became recoverable, but that he feared the travelling expenses could not be recovered, as the man had really travelled.)—I obtained the information that Bernhard Opitz had left England in July, 1890, to go by steamer to Colombo—Q. Why Mr. Bernhard Opitz at that time was employed as the secretary to the Eastern Exchange? A. Did not he go out for the Eastern Exchange? I did not know he did not—I did not see him sometimes; did not I protect the people abroad, did not I recover these arms, and did not he pay back the money he got?—it is true that he resigned the representations he got in order to devote himself exclusively to represent a Manchester firm for whom he had to conclude contracts for spinning mill fittings in the Colonies, and who guaranteed him the whole of his travelling expenses of £1,000—I don't know exactly Opitz's arrangements; I only know what he told me—he could not get the money, and he went for one firm; he was in negotiation with Mr. Hume to transfer this agency to him—what was in my letter was correct at the time, only I cannot say four years afterwards how it arose at the time—Captain Bateman told me Opitz was seized with fever—Opitz had relations; he was staying with them—I never entered the Eastern Exchange in my life; it is three or four minutes' walk from Queen Victoria Street, but he was not always there; he was travelling for the Eastern Exchange—he was seized with fever and left directly for Australia—I do not know that his samples were not deposited with a firm at Colombo, that is what was told me—Mr. Bateman told me Opitz intended to bring them back with him on his return from Australia, and that it was thought they were possibly already on their way back from Colombo—I did not ask Opitz, because he was not in London at the time; I did not see him myself—I cannot swear that in April, 1891, when I wrote this letter, Opitz was not in London—I believe he was not in London, but travelling, and this information was given by Captain Bateman, who staysor lives with him—I will not swear one way or the other whether Opitz was in London—I do not say that the information I gave to the people abroad was false; it was what I found out at the time and reported—after writing the letter very likely I saw Opitz, or I saw someone at the house—I am not prepared for all these questions; it is four or five years back, I cannot remember all these facts—Opitz, recommended through me to Schmeisser, had not got goods on credit from the Liege Company; he had got goods valued at £16—the Liege Company, through Schmeisser, asked for information about him, and I gave it—at the time I wrote, "In June or July, 1890, he is said to have been in Colombo," it was April, 1891—Q. At that time were you not in communication with that very man in London? A. I cannot remember the dates—I saw him very likely shortly afterwards, when I got back the samples and the money—I cannot tell you if I saw him shortly before I wrote that letter; I cannot remember—I think he was not in London at the time; I cannot say as to the dates—I asked there for a power of attorney—very likely I got the power of attorney, and then I went or sent someone about the samples—his relations were living in Brixton at that time, at
Spinham Road, very likely—I did not go myself to see him—his uncle, Mr. Bateman, gave me the information: "His relations were not possessed of any more detailed news, judging from his last letter"—it was not a tissue of lies about the samples being thought to be on their way back from Colombo, you misrepresent his report—I reported what I found out—the report is correctly translated—it is what I was informed at the time—I did not verify it—the price, 1s., was not so low that the information must be false; it is quite correct—I remember something in the libel to that effect—I never gave false information in my life, this was reported to me—1s. is the charge of all the offices—when I said, "That is really a cheap way to make a tour round the world; what clever ideas some people have!" I should have liked to make the journey myself and represent the manufacturers, not in the same way, or on the same terms; but I am very fond of travelling—I did not mean, "What a rascal this Opitz is!"
The JURY here stated that they found the prisoner
NOT GUILTY , and that the libel was justified by the evidence adduced.
The prisoner was again indicted for unlawfully writing and publishing a false and defamatory libel of and concerning Gustav Opitz. The prisoner had filed a plea of justification. MR. KEMP, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, March 26th, 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
305. FRANCIS LE MAISTRE (59) and WILLIAM HOARE (29) , Feloniously breaking and entering the warehouse of Alfred Edwin Charles and stealing 432 bundles of artificial flowers and other goods. Second Count, receiving the same.
MR. SANDS Prosecuted, MR. PURCELL Defended Hoare, and MESSRS.
HUTTON and ROBINSON Defended Le Maistre.
ALFRED CHARLES . I am an artificial florist, trading as Charles and Company, at 120, Fore Street, where I have two rooms on the first floor—I have been fifteen years in the trade; six years on my own account—on the morning of 6th February I found my premises had been broken into, and missed artificial flowers value £37 10s. and seven boxes of black ostrich feathers, worth £5 10s., five pounds of boa feathers, value £15, and about four pounds of black-dyed ostrich feathers, worth £12—I afterwards missed some birds and some samples of fancy feathers—I have since seen the property, and I have identified it as my goods—the flowers ure new French goods just from France—it would be impossible for anyone who knew the trade to think they were worth £4—these feathers produced by Lewis are my property, and also these found at Hoare's and at Le Maistre's.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I left my premises safe at half-past ten on 5th February, and I came back at 9.20 on the 6th.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. They were perfectly new goods when they were in my warehouse—they were not really a job line—they were not in boxes a little crushed or damaged when they were in my place—a
lot of them were taken out of the glass case that we had specially made, for showing our best goods in—we had only just put them in the case, and some were only just marked off the invoice—they have not been handled by customers looking at them—a great many of the flowers are not last season's flowers, nor are they principally oddments—certain of them are expensive patterns we got over to copy, but the bulk of them are goods in a range of colours—there are lilies of the valley in three colours—those goods are samples—they are new goods, and worth £37 10s.—there were a few asters left from last season, but they were nothing of any value—the price of goods a little damaged or a little out of fashion does not go down to a wonderful extent at the commencement of the season—it would depend on the goods what they were worth—lilies of the valley are made the same pattern year by year, but expensive flowers, like orchids, would be depreciated—these were regular goods, like cowslips—if they were last season's goods and had been handled a good deal, they would not be reduced by seventy or eighty percent, if they were clean stuff like this—if someone brought me a parcel of goods of this character which I saw were last season's goods and had been handled, I should not offer anything, because if goods of this description were brought to me as clean and in good condition they would come either by felony or by a party going bankrupt—I am not a job dealer—I have no knowledge of what job dealers do—I never came across anything like it.
Re-examined. Those flowers were in my show-case, and they were stolen out of it—when I saw them at Spencer Street they had been reboxed—they were not then depreciated to the value of five percent., and since I have looked through them at the station carefully I find they have not depreciated that much—they have my marks on them.
MAXIMILIAN MORRIS SAMUELS . I am an artificial flower manufacturer—I have had twenty-six years' experience of the trade—I have seen the fifteen cases of artificial flowers, and should say they must have cost £27—I looked through them in the Court—they are French goods—they are not a job lot.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I made an examination of them for about five or six minutes—I should not want much more—I noticed Charles's ticket on every one of them—I know that ticket in the trade.
By the COURT. The very first thing in getting rid of stolen property would be to take off the ticket.
THOMAS HAMBRIDGE . I am an artificial florist, of 23, Spencer Street, Goswell Road—on Saturday night the 9th of February, I bought this case of artificial flowers from a man named Wright for £4 5s.—I have a receipt.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Wright was not introduced to me on the 8th—I saw him on the 8th—Lilly is a traveller—I have been in business for about eighteen years.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. I hardly saw them when I bought them through the introduction of Mr. Lilly—they were muddled up in the box, and I thought they were in the job line, and I bought them as a job line, which I was told they were—I did not look at them enough to see whether they were French goods of this season—Lilly took the lid off and said they were worth the price, and I just looked at them and gave him £4 5s., and 5s. for himself—it was a foggy morning and the gas was
alight, and I could hardly see them, and I never opened the box again until the police took them away—the police came on the evening of the 9th, the same night that the flowers came.
FREDERICK THOMAS WRIGHT . I am a stock and job buyer—I live at 60, Walnut Tree Walk, Lambeth—I have no place of business—I have known Le Maistre ten or twelve years as a job buyer and commission agent—I have only had one previous dealing with him—that was in January—my late governor dealt with him then—on Thursday, February 7th, I saw him at Mr. Lewis's, 39, Aldersgate Street—I sold those artificial flowers to Mr. Hambridge—I saw them being offered by Le Maistre to Lewis, as I went in on business to see Mr. Lewis; and as I saw him transacting the business I left the warehouse and waited outside, and then Le Maistre asked me if I would buy the flowers—I said "Has not Lewis bought them?"—he said "No, he said he could not give me more than £2 for them"—I said "What would you take for them?"—he said, "I want three guineas"—I said, "I will give you 50s.," and eventually I bought them for £2 17s.—I afterwards sold them to Mr. Hambridge for £4 5s.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I saw Le Maistre offer them to Lewis on February 7th, and the same day I bought them for £2 17s, and cleared them the next morning—on the 9th I sold them for £4 5s.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. I have known Le Maistre for some years—I was for many years foreman to Mr. Edwards, from 1880—while I was there I had several transactions with Le Maistre as doing business with Mr. Edwards—I never heard complaints made against Le Maistre's character while I was with Mr. Edwards; he was a job buyer—Le Maistre did not mention for whom he was selling the flowers—Mr. Lilly re-boxed them for me—I saw the goods at Mr. Lewis's; I bought them from Le Maistre after I met him outside—I should describe them as an odd lot, and I thought I was giving fair value for them when I gave £2 17s.; they were in a very rough condition when I bought them—when I sold them, after the expense of re-boxing, I cleared on the transaction about £1 1s.—Mr. Lilly being in the trade he could re-box them better—I thought I gave a fair price and made a fair profit.
Re-examined. I could have re-boxed them, but not so well, not having his experience in the trade—I have not had great experience in the trade in handling goods.
JOHN LEWIS . I am a stock and job buyer, and carry on business at 20A, Aldersgate Street—on Thursday afternoon, February 7th, LeMaistre came to me and offered me about seven boxes of flowers—I did not buy them—on the 8th he sold me about seven boxes of birds, of which these are a portion, for 20s.—he also sold me twenty-four plumes, such as these, for 8s.—I afterwards sold these goods, but on the Tuesday they were inquired for by the police, and I wrote immediately and got them back.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The eleven boxes of flowers were offered to me for £5; I refused to pay that, because I thought that £5 was too much—some of the boxes were crushed and broken and very untidy.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. I said I did not think they were worth £5—I should describe them as a job lot of flowers—I gave 20s. for some feathers which I afterwards sold for 25s., subject to discount of five
per cent., or two and a half per cent. at about four months' credit—I did not make very much out of it—it was the best price I could get—I have known Le Maistre from ten to fourteen years as a stock and job buyer and commission agent—I never heard anything against his respectability.
Re-examined. I never heard of his dealing with Bill Hall or of his buying from stalls in Whitecross Street until this case—I did not look at the goods very carefully because I was overstocked with flowers, and did not want to purchase—I took his word for their being a job lot.
ALFRED ERNEST JOLLY . I am a commission agent and traveller, at 43, Barbican—Le Maistre brought these boxes of ostrich feathers to me on Wednesday, 6th February, between five and six, and said, "I have a good job line of feathers to show you"—I said, "Let us see them. How much do you want for them?"—he said, "£4 10s."—I said I could do nothing with them and refused to buy them—he said, "Lend me £5 and I will buy them myself"—I said, "I will not lend you £5. I will lend you £3 on the condition that you leave the feathers in my office"—ultimately I lent him £3 and he left me the feathers—I saw a report in the newspapers of this case, and then I went to the police and gave the feathers up.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I know Hoare as being a buyer in Whitecross Street—I should say that flowers of this kind may be found sometimes on barrows in Whitecross Street; they sell all kinds of goods there.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. Le Maistre had a few feathers with him, when he came to me; he said these were samples; he had about 200or something of that kind—he told me he had paid 10s. for the sample bundle he had; he offered to sell the bulk to me and I refused—I sent him the £3 in gold, and he went away with the money and came back with the feathers, which he deposited with me—I have known him for four or five years as a commission agent—I have always thought he was a respectable man of business.
JOHN WISE (Detective Sergeant, City). I had information given to me, and I ultimately saw Hambridge and Wright, and took Wright into custody on 11th February—at eight o'clock that evening I saw Le Maistre at Moor Lane Police-station, where he was detained by Pickard—as I entered the station Le Maistre advanced towards me and shook hands with me, and said, "Good evening, Mr. Wise"—I said to him, "I have received certain information that a large quantity of flowers and feathers have been stolen from Messrs. Charles, of 120, Fore Street, and I find that you have sold them to a Mr. Wright, who is in custody"—I had Wright fetched in from the cells, and said in the presence of the two, "Is this the man, Mr. Wright, you bought the flowers from?"—Wright said, "That is the man I bought the flowers from; I gave him £2 17s., and this is the receipt," handing me a receipt for £2 17s.—I said, "How about the feathers?"—Le Msaistre aid, "I never had the feathers"—I said, "I can prove you offered them for sale"—he said, "It is not true; I am selling these things on commission for Bill Hall, who keeps a stall in Whitecross Street"—I asked him if he could give me Bill Hull's address, or show me any receipt for the goods—he said, "I don't know where Bill Hall lives. I can give you no receipt; I sell on commission"—on 19th February I saw Hoare in a public-house in Bunhill Row—I said, "Hoare, are you Bill?"—he
said, "Yes, Mr. Wise"—I said, "I have a lot of feathers, and a man named Masters in custody, and from what he said I believe he had the goods from you"—he said, "I have let Masters have goods"—I said, "I wish you to come to the station and look at them"—I showed him all the goods—as to one box he said, "Yes, I know I let Masters have this"—I said to him at the station, "I shall charge you with being concerned with Masters with breaking and entering and stealing and receiving these goods"—I searched his house—I brought away about four hundred receipts for goods, but I found nothing relating to this charge—on the second hearing his brother brought me this receipt, and said, "After he had gone away we found that receipt"—the receipt is "Mr. Hall, bought of J. Hicks"—I had not heard of Hicks before—the prisoner's brother gave me the address, 56, Farringdon Road, and I went there with the prisoner's brother, but I found no Hicks there—I have known Le Maistre for about seventeen years as a commission buyer and job buyer; I have had to follow and watch him.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I showed Hoare fifteen boxes of flowers at the station—he said, "I am sure I let Mr. Masters have those"—I asked him about the feathers, and he said, "I never had the feathers; Mr. Masters never had them from me"—in answer to the charge he said, "The receipt for these goods is at home; mother has it"—on the way to the Court on the first hearing Hoare said, "I bought these at my stall of a man named Hicks, who lives at 60 or 62, Farringdon Road"—the date on the receipt is February 8th—I said, "What sort of a man is Hicks?"—he said, "He is a tall man, and he told me he had bought these goods at a stall"—I have known Hoare since he was a lad; I know he cannot read or write—I found in the house a number of these cards, "Hall and Hoare, job and stock buyers to any amount."
Re-examined. I know of no Mr. Hall—I never knew Hoare to have a partner named Hall.
WILLIAM PICKARD (Plain-clothes Constable). On 7th February, about six o'clock, I saw Le Maistre in Long Lane—I was acting under Wise's instructions—I said, "Mr. Le Maistre?" he said, "Yes"—I said, "Sergeant Wise wishes to see you at Moor Lane Police-station very particularly"—he said, "Do you know what it is about?"—I said, "I hardly know; he had best tell you"—I took him to the station and waited till Wise came there, and I told him he was waiting about some flowers—he said, pointing to some flowers in the muster hall, "I can answer for them; I have a receipt."
JAMES WACKETT (882, City). I Was at Moor Lane Police-station on 19th February, when Hoare was in custody—I cautioned him and said that what he said might be given in evidence against him—he said, "On the Wednesday morning a tall man came to me at the stall in White-cross Street and produced some boxes, and said they contained flowers; I looked at them. He said they were broken up; he asked me £4 for them. I gave him £3 and told him to come next day, when I gave him £1 and sent them home by my brother."
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. Hoare has a stall in Whitecross Street—he had a partner named Hall, who has retired, I think.
Witnesses for Hoare.
LUKE BUTLER . I live at 7, Elizabeth Place, Whitecross Street—until September last I had been in Pickford and Co.'s employ for twenty-one years, but I was invalided—on a Wednesday, between half-past eleven and twelve, I was in Whitecross Street, at Hoare's stall, when a man came up on the off-side of the barrow, and he said to the prisoner Hoare, "I have a job lot," or "a job line of flowers that I can sell you cheap"—he had either three or two boxes strapped in front, and three or two behind, over his right shoulder—Hoare went round to him, and the man opened one of the boxes and showed Hoare the goods—I did not look at them—the colour of the man's hands was as if he was in the flower line, or something of that sort—after Hoare had viewed the goods, the man strapped the goods up, and they went down the street in the direction of a public-house, and out of my view.
Cross-examined. Before the Magistrate I was under the impression that this was on a Tuesday, because I always see the doctor on Tuesday—I come voluntarily to give evidence—I could not distinctly swear to the man who brought the goods—he said he had a job lot or line of feathers or flowers—he may have said it was a job lot of goods—Hoare deals in all sorts of goods; general drapery, I believe it is—I don't know if he often deals in flowers—I have known him for a few years—I am not a particular friend of his—I have seen Le Maistre pass by his stall; I have not seen him buy or sell anything there—I did not know when I went to the Police-court that it was flowers he was accused of stealing; I got it since from the facts; I heard just now he was accused of buying them—I did not know they were stolen.
Re-examined. The boxes were very much like these, and two wooden boxes—I did not notice if some of them were apparently much broken.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. STEWARD Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
JOHN HILLSTRON . I am a sailor—on 15th March I was stopping at the Sailors' Scandinavian Home—on the early morning of that day I was coming home from the theatre, and lost my way, and I asked people the way home, and then I was standing on the side walk when the prisoner came across the road from the other side, and struck me right in the face, and I fell down, and at the same time three or four men were on me; I did not see where they came from—they tried to hold me down—they escaped and ran away, and I raised myself up—the policeman brought the prisoner to me—at the time he struck me he took £6 out of my pocket and my pocket knife—he was brought to the station.
Cross-examined. I had been to the theatre—I had been drinking—I had never been in London before—there were a good many people about at first—I am a Swede—there were three or four people about me when I was knocked down, but I had never seen them before—it was done all in a moment—I was struck on the nose, and then they had me down, and I was scratched by the side walk when I fell—I was not drunk at the
time it happened; I had been walking about for an hour trying to find ray road—I did not say at the station that the policeman was in the job; I asked two policemen my way home—I did not see the faces of the other men; they all went away as soon as I raised myself up—the first man the policeman brought back I said was the man.
ARTHUR UNWIN (63 H.) About one a.m. on 15th March I was off duty in plain clothes standing with 408 H in Mile End Road—I heard cries of "Police"—I ran and saw the prosecutor lying on the ground in the road, struggling with two or three men, and I saw the prisoner running away across the road—I ran after him along Mile End Road and up Eagle Place, a blind turning, where he stood up in a dark place—I caught hold of him and said, "You will have to come back with me to the Mile End Road"—he made no answer—Mustard got hold of one side of him and I the other, and we took him back to the prosecutor, who put his hands on the prisoner's shoulders and said, "That is the man that struck me"—the prosecutor was bleeding from a wound in the forehead, and his left cheek was red and swollen—when he spoke the prisoner went to say something, and we heard something rattle in his mouth—we threw him on to the ground, turned his face downward, seized his lower jaw and extracted £3 10s. in gold from his mouth—we took him to the station, where in answer to the charge he said, "I picked the money up off the ground"—the prosecutor said, "You were in it, and so was the policeman"; and the prisoner then repeated to the inspector, "Don't forget the policeman was in it."
Cross-examined. The prosecutor had been drinking, but he was not drunk; he signed the charge-sheet.
The prisoner in his statement before the Magistrate said that the prosecutor was standing showing his money to everybody who passed; that someone knocked against him and he dropped the money, and that he (the prisoner) picked up £3 10s.; and that the graze on the prosecutor's forehead was caused by his falling down when drunk.
GUILTY .—He then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony in December, 1893, at this Court, in the name of George Clark.— Five Year' Penal Servitude.
MR. MONEY Prosecuted, and MR. LATHAM Defended.
MARY MARTHA HOARE . I am a widow, living at the Royal Naval College, Penge—on 6th March, at Holies Street, I got in an omnibus going from Oxford Circus to Holborn—I sat at the further end on the left—the prisoner got in, and sat on my right—he had a coat over his arm—he sat round facing me and moving his left hand all the time—I had in my pocket a purse containing 12s. 6d.—when I got out at Snow Hill Station the conductor said something to me, in consequence of which I felt to see if I had got my purse, and found it had gone—my pocket was an ordinary deep dress pocket—the purse could not have slipped out—after a policeman had been called, the prisoner said, "Here is your puree, lady, on the seat"—this is my purse.
Cross-examined. The omnibus was quite full—I was suspicious; I
thought somebody was after my purse, and I put my hand in my pocket three or four times to see if it was safe, and I never missed it till the constable asked me—I was more watchful than I should have been had I not been suspicious—I scarcely know that I should have caught him if he had taken my purse from my pocket; I might have—I did not see the purse in his hand, nor find his hand in my pocket—I merely noticed that he was moving his hands about in a very suspicious manner—I presume everybody in the omnibus knew that there was some reason for the conductor calling the police and making the complaint—I did not hear the fact of my having lost my purse being rather loudly proclaimed—I heard no one accuse the prisoner of taking the purse—he said at once, "Here is the lady's purse on the seat"—my pocket was on the right side of my dress.
GEORGE SIMMONS . I am a metropolitan stage carriage conductor, No. 3,101—I live at 7, Earlsmead Road, Kensal Green—Mrs. Hoare was a passenger from Oxford Circus, sitting at the top near-side corner—after a time the prisoner got in, and sat in a seat near her—he had his coat on his left arm, and afterwards he changed it on to his right arm—the way he sat was very suspicious; he covered the actions of his right hand with his left—he was fumbling about, and I was watching him all the time—at Holborn Circus I asked him for an excess penny, and I saw him fumbling with some silver under his mackintosh coat—on arriving at Snow Hill Station the lady got out, and when she was on the ground I stopped and spoke to her, and put her back on the step till I got a constable—I saw two constables on duty, who came across, and during that time a policeman got off the top of the omnibus—the prisoner heard me calling for the policeman—I said to the policeman, "The lady has lost her purse; I want your assistance," or something to that effect—the prisoner then came out and said, "The puree is on the seat"—a passenger handed me the purse—I afterwards found this part of a clasp at the bottom of the omnibus, at Liverpool Street.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had some silver in his right hand, going over Holborn Viaduct—the prisoner came forward when the policeman was called and when the omnibus was at a standstill—he could see by my placing the lady on the step that something was the matter; everybody was looking—I called the policemen by the corner after passing Snow Hill Station, about one hundred yards on—after going that hundred yards I called the policemen and said, "This lady has lost her purse, and this man has got it"—had the prisoner got out of his place before then I should have stopped him—he came out and was on the step soon after the lady got off—he had not much chance to get away.
HARRY MARTIN (622, City). On 6th March I was a passenger on this omnibus in plain clothes—I heard the police called, and I rushed down the steps, and the conductor said to me, "This lady has lost there purse, and this man has got it"—the prisoner said, "There is the lady's purse on the seat"—I looked inside and saw it—I told the prisoner I should charge him—he said nothing—he gave his name as Harry Cooper, 14, Ben Jonson Road, Stepney—the name was not correct; the address was—I took him to the station—he had 17s. 9d. in silver, half-a-sovereign gold, and 3d. coppers on him.
Cross-examined. Before he was charged he came out of the omnibus and said, "There is the lady's purse on the seat"—he said nothing to me
before he was charged—the constable said to me, "This lady has lost her purse," and after the prisoner was charged he said it—he said nothing else, I am sure—he said, I believe, "I am a gentleman, and an innocent man"—I had forgotten that—his father lives at the address he gave, and is a respectable tradesman, so far as I know—he keeps a shop.
M. M. HOARE (Re-examined by the JURY). The money and everything is still in the purse—the catch has been broken, but it was loose.
NOT GUILTY .
308. STEWART CONNICK (20), and THOMAS TURNER (23), PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the counting-house of William Partridge and another, and stealing a pair of boots and other articles; and also to four other indictments for breaking and entering and stealing.— Twelve Months' Hard labour each.
310. MARY ANN CORDEY (23) , to unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child by a secret disposition of its dead body.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Discharged on Recognisances.
311. GEORGE WALLACE (46) and PATRICK RILEY (26) , to breaking and entering the Royal Military Chapel, Wellington Barracks, and stealing two medals; [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]Wallace also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in November, 1894, in the name of Robert Smith, and Riley to one in November, 1892.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
312. MARY ANN BUTTIVANT , to unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child by a secret disposition of its dead body.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Discharged on Recognisances.
313. HENRY EDGAR (52) , to forging an endorsement on an order for the payment of £2; also to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from George Anderson an order for the payment of £2 and £2, with intent to defraud.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
314. FRANK SAPSED (21) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Peter Backer, with intent to steal; also ** to a conviction of felony in March, 1891.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And
315. CHARLES ROSS (36) , to embezzling an order for the payment of £7 15s. 11d. and other sums, received by him for and on account of the Gas Light and Coke Company, his masters; and also to another indictment for embezzling other sums.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 27th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
MR. KEELING Prosecuted, and MR. CLARKE Defended.
GUILTY of indecent assault. — Six Months' Hard Labour.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 27th, 1893.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
The evidence is unfit for publication.— GUILTY.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
319. THOMAS WARD (60) PLEADED GUILTY to six indictments for forging and uttering bills of exchange and debentures for £300, £385, £270, and other sums with intent to defraud Messrs. Novello and others.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
320. ANNIE PEARSON (24), THOMAS GANNAWAY (24), and HENRY MAHONEY (20) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Frederick Morgan Turpin, and stealing seventy silk handkerchiefs and £2 in money, his property. Second Count, feloniously receiving the same; Gannaway having been convicted at Lambeth on June 30th, 1892.
GANNAWAY and MAHONEY PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. TURNER Prosecuted.
EDWARD BADCOCK (Police-Sergeant C). On March 16th I went with Cross to 16, Waterloo Road, Lambeth, and saw Pearson in the front room, ground floor—I said, "I shall take you for being concerned with Thomas Gannaway in breaking into 135, Brompton Road, and stealing silk handkerchiefs"—she was wearing this silk handkerchief round her neck—I asked her to give it to me; she did so—the other constable searched and found some more handkerchiefs—she made a statement which I took down in writing; this is it; I read it over to her, and she signed it. (This stated that a man named Fred Gillett brought her the handkerchiefs between five and six a.m., and asked her to pawn them, and that she did so.)—Cross produced some pawn-tickets from a drawer, and she said, "I told you a lie, but now you have found the tickets I see you know all about it; I think Gillett's right name is Gannaway"—I took her to the station—the charge was read over to her—she said, "I did not do it."
Cross-examined by Pearson. You told me you did not know they were stolen—I wrote the statement down as you said it.
THOMAS CROSS (Policeman). On March 14th, about seven a.m., I went with Badcock to 16, Waterloo Road, and saw Pearson—I searched the premises and found seven pawn-tickets, three of which relate to silk handkerchiefs and one to a handkerchief and ring, and one to a pair of boots—I found these two handkerchiefs under the bedclothes.
Cross-examined. You took this handkerchief off your neck, and these two I found on the bed.
ALFRED BEVIS . I am assistant to Mr. Davis, of 145, Waterloo Road, pawnbroker—I produce four new silk handkerchiefs pawned with me on February 9th by Pearson for 4s., and four more on February 19th, all in the name of Annie Pearson.
FREDERICK ANSTIS . I am assistant to Mr. Chessman, a pawnbroker, of 73, Waterloo Road—I produce seven new handkerchiefs pawned on February 9th for 7s. in the name of Ann Smith—I cannot recognise her—here
is one of my pawn-tickets among these produced—I advanced 1s. each; they were not worth much more.
FREDERICK MORGAN TURPIN . I am a draper, of 135, 133 and 131, Brompton Road—on the night of February 8th my premises were broken into, and seventy pocket handkerchiefs stolen—these handkerchiefs formed part of my stock undoubtedly; some of them are worth 2s., some more and some less—these seven handkerchiefs are worth about 14s.
PHŒBE COLLINS . I live at 16, Grey Street, Waterloo Road—Pearson lived there with Gannaway for three months, up to March 14th—they occupied the same room—Gannaway let himself in with a key—I did not hear him come in on the morning of February 9th—Pearson told me that Gannaway was a coachman.
Cross-examined by Pearson. You were there one week before Gannaway came.
Pearson's defence. When Gannaway came home I never knew where he got the things from; he never told me—I pawned them.
PEARSON— GUILTY of receiving. The JURY stated that they believed she was under the influence of the men.— Four Months' Hard Labour. GANNAWAY**— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. MAHONEY— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
HARRY TIPPING . I am office boy to Thomas James Lipton and Co., tea merchants, of Bath Street, St. Luke's, who advertise very largely—on 22nd February, about 11.45, I was in Peerless Street, City Road, with this bag containing £5 worth of coppers—I was attacked from behind by some men; a hand was put over my mouth and an arm round my neck, and the bag was wrenched from my grasp—the hand over my mouth prevented me from shouting out—the handle of the bag was broken and left in the hands of those who attempted to get it from me—there was more than one person—I was knocked down, and when I got up I saw several men running away, and the prisoner was among them; he was carrying the bag—I was prevented from running for a policeman by the crowd—after some little time I fetched a policeman from the City Road—I next saw the prisoner at Worship Street on March 13th, in a yard, with nine or ten others—I picked him out without any hesitation—I saw him clearly as I got up, he was about ten yards off, carrying the bag under his arm.
By the COURT. I saw his face when he turned round to see if I was following—I have no doubt he is the man—there were people on my right in the crowd that stopped me, and others behind—they closed in in front of me.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I had never seen you before—I
cannot say who threw me to the ground—I knew you since I saw you—I stood about a minute in the yard before I recognised you—I was not cold beforehand that the man I had to recognise was wearing light trousers.
By the COURT. I heard the police talking among themselves—they said they had a man in custody who answered the description, and he had light trousers on—it was not that which I went by—it was about a fortnight after the robbery that I saw the prisoner at the station—I described him as rather fair, with a slight moustache—when I described the man on the day of the robbery I told them he had a dark coat on—I did not say dark trousers—I said before the Magistrate I picked him out in a minute—I looked up the line of men about two or three times—I was not in any doubt at all.
ERNEST CHAPMAN (66 G). On February 12th, about 11.45 a.m., I was on fixed point duty at East Road—I was standing outside the door of a big linen drapers, opposite Baldwin Street, about a hundred yards from Bury Street—I saw the prisoner running, with a bag under his arm—two or three well-known thieves put up their hands—he did not see them—I crossed—he looked me full in the face, and ran down Baldwin Street—I gave chase—he dropped the bag, and I nearly fell over it—I picked it up and tried to follow him, but lost sight of him in Bath Buildings—I have seen him several times before in those parts.
Cross-examined. I said that you were rather dark, with a sallow complexion, and about 5 feet 7 or 8 high—this is the bag (Produced).
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that there was a doubt in his identification, as one witness described him as having a fair complexion, and another as being dark.
MR. COHEN Prosecuted.
SARAH ANN WEBSTER . In February last I was barmaid at the Bishop Bliaze, New Inn Yard—I was attending to my duties about 6.30 p.m. on Sunday, February 17th—the prisoner came in and called for a glass of ale—while I was serving him he snatched at my chain and gave me a punch in my face—I fell to the floor—I was insensible for a few minutes—he first came and looked in at all three doors—I was alone—he then came in at the centre door—I had never seen him before—I did not know where I was until I came round—I found he had taken my watch and chain—I got up and told my mistress—my fingers were bleeding; I think they were cut by the chain—I lost my voice for a week—I gave information to the police—I went on the 20th to Worship Street and identified the prisoner among eight or nine other people—I picked him out directly I saw him—when I recovered from the state I was put in by this attack, my watch and chain and a little trinket worth about £7 were gone.
Cross-examined. When you put down the 1d. I was going to get a glass, and you gave me a punch on my face; I am sure I did not strike myself against the bar.
identified the prisoner at Worship Street on the other charge—she picked him out without hesitation.
GUILTY .—He then
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell on February 20th, 1893, in the name of John Harris, and other convictions were proved against him.— Twenty-one Months' Hard Labour and Twenty Strokes with the Cat. The COURT commended the officers, Chapman and Noble.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, March 27th 1895.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. LATHAM Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended.
PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully wounding.
To enter into his own recognisances of £50 to come up for judgment when called upon.
MR. ROBINSON Prosecuted.
BENJAMIN MUSTHAM (Constable 8 H). I saw the prisoner on 11th March at 3.30 a.m. at the corner of Redmond Road and Jubilee Street, with two others, moving about in a suspicious way—I watched for some time—as I arrived at the corner of Redmond's Road I heard a whistle—I saw two men coming out into the Mile End Road—I saw the prisoner going down Redmond Road on the right-hand side—thinking there was something wrong, I commenced to search—after twenty minutes the prisoner came a second time along Redmond Road—I continued my search, and over a low wall, about ten feet on the other side, at the rear of some houses in Jubilee Street, I saw this jemmy—it was at the back door of the prosecutor's house—I then found this small knife lying against the door—I got further assistance, and got over the wall, and got the jemmy—I went back into the court that led out of Redmond Road, and over a low wall at the back of a house in Jubilee Street—I examined the door—I saw the prisoner a third time—I gave chase, and apprehended him in Jubilee Street—I asked him where he was going to—he said to Adelina Grove—he was coming from that direction—I saw something in a bit of rag in his hand, and discovered it was this skeleton key—I told him he would have to come back with me, and took him back to the other constable—I had the jemmy in my hand, and without my speaking of it, the prisoner said, "I know nothing about that, governor"—I told him he would have to go to the station, and be charged on suspicion with being concerned with two other men in committing a burglary—he said, "All right"—at the station, when charged, he said, "That's all right"—between nine and ten the same morning, I went with another officer to an address the prisoner gave, 33, Elsey Street—he was not known there, but I found out he lived at 45, Haley Street—we went there, and found in a little box on the mantelpiece this brooch—it was the prisoner's room, the back-room on the first floor—we
then went back to the station, where Mr. and Mrs. Lansdown were waiting—they identified this brooch as theirs—the prisoner was then charged with committing a burglary at the Surprise beer-house on the 6th—he was identified by the prosecutor and prosecutrix as the man who was in their bedroom on that morning.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not ask you which way you had come—the key has the centre filed out—this other key is your latch-key—I found these photographs at the address.
JAMES LANSDOWN . I keep the Surprise beer-house, at 14, Maroon Street—on 6th March I closed the house safely about 12.30—my wife woke me between three and 3.30, by her seeing a man in the room—I saw him, and jumped out of bed—he pulled the door behind him—I opened it, and fell to the bottom of the stairs—he ran through the bar-parlour, through the back door, into the yard, and was on the top of the wall, when I lost him—I saw no more of him till the following Wednesday, 11th March, when I was fetched to the Police-station by Harrison to identify him—I saw the side of his face, going out of the bedroom—I identified him, from about a dozen men, by the side of his face and the clothes he had on—I examined my premises after I went back, and put my clothes on, and had gone to the bottom of Whitehorse Street and seen the inspector and a sergeant—I found the back-door had been broken open, the bolts and everything being broken right off—I missed two brooches, my ring, my wife's purse, with 10s. in, off the dressing-table, and down-stairs the bar was ransacked, and all my smokes, odds and ends, pickles and the like (the glasses being on the floor) and a pound and a half of tobacco left on the bar table—I identified the brooch at the station.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I saw the side of your face and your back as you doubled up leaving the room.
LOUISA LANSDOWN . I am the prosecutor's wife, and live with him at the Surprise beer-house—I picked the prisoner out of several others as the man I had seen in my bedroom on 6th March—I have no doubt about him—I missed two brooches, a gold-chased ring, my purse, and a little money in it, all taken out of the room—I saw one brooch at Arbour Square Police-station—Harrison showed it to me, and I identified it as one I missed.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I did not see your full face, but caught you sideways coming from the dressing-table—I saw sufficient of you to identify you—you immediately doubled up—I had seen you previous to that once—I saw you at some distance before you got to the door.
By the JURY. A lamp was full on in a corner of the dressing-room.
By the COURT. I identify this brooch by the small green stone set with silver wire; I have had it since I was a little girl, and gave it to my daughter, who left it in my bedroom.
ALBERT HARRISON (Sergeant H). I visited the premises on 6th March, and found they had been broken open—on 11th March I found marks on the door which corresponded with this jemray—I found this brooch at the prisoner's lodgings at 45, Haley Street—it was identified by Mr. and Mrs. Lansdown—I told the prisoner I had found it in his room—he said, "What, on my mantelpiece?"—I had not told him I found it on the mantelpiece.
The—prisoner's defence: I am innocent. My wife had a brooch. I
at answer for it. I was not in the place at all. I was three streets away.
GUILTY .—He also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in February, 1893.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.
CHARLTON PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. HUGHES Prosecuted.
WILLIAM MASSEY (530, City). On 26th February I was near Miles Lane about 5.30 a.m.—passing No.10, I heard a noise like the drawing of bolts—I beckoned to the man Payne, who was at the top of the lane—two men rushed out of No.10, and I gave chase—I called to—Payne to stop them—he caught Charlton—the other man got away—I fell and hurt my knee—I went back and took Charlton into custody, and when Sergeant Criddle came up I took Charlton to the station-house—at 2 p.m. I searched him, and he was afterwards charged—I found eighty-three loose cigars in his pockets, and this box of fifty in the waist of his trousers—I identified Murphy from others in the muster-room as the man I had seen in Miles Lane—there is an electric light at the top of Miles Lane showing up like daylight.
Cross-examined by Murphy. No constable pointed you out to me—I walked at the back of the men and then in front.
By the JURY. I did not know the other men.
ARTHUR PAYNE . I am a carman employed by the London and South Western Railway Company—I live at Savonna Street, Battersea Park Road—I was sent to Miles Lane on the early morning of February 26th—I was standing at the Arthur Street end—I heard a policeman's whistle—the policeman shouted tome, and I hurried down some steps to him—about ten to fifteen yards from the bottom of the steps the two men rushed out of a warehouse—I caught hold of Charlton—the other must have jumped up six steps to get away from the officer—I was more interested in the man I caught, but I picked the other out of eight men the following morning at Cloak Lane as the man I had seen—I recognise him by his height and build.
JAMES CRIDDLE (79, City). I went to Miles Lane about 5 30 a.m., and saw Massey with Charlton in custody—I sent Charlton to the station—I examined the premises and found an entrance had been gained through an open window of the warehouse at No. 10—from there they got to the roof of Megarson's—the marks of corduroy and marks were on the white frost on the roof, and they had broken a window there—I followed the tracks to 8A, Cuddiford's, where a skylight had been forced, and a desk was broken open—they then went to No. 9, occupied by the same people, Cuddiford's, where the trap-door on the roof had been opened—from the top floor they got to the first floor, and into the office, where they had forced open several drawers, a desk, and cupboard, in which were several boxes of cigars corresponding with those found on Charlton, and these two empty boxes had been forced by this champagne opener—I found on the table only empty boxes—there were several marks on the desk corresponding to a jemmy belonging to the occupiers, which came
from a drawer in the room, but was lying on the table when we searched the place.
Cross-examined by Murphy. I was present when you were placed in the reserve-room by the inspector, and when you were asked if you were ready you said "Yes," and Massey was brought in from the charge-room.
HENRY WALTER LIGHTFOOT . I am a warehouseman, employed by John Cuddiford, at 8A and 9, Miles Lane—on the night of 25th February I safely locked up the warehouse, and the top floors, and the roof—it was all bolted, and the windows were quite safe and unbroken—the desks were in good condition, and shut up—cigars like these produced were in a cabinet—they belonged to Mr. Cuddiford.
SIDNEY COBON (City Detective). On 26th February I went to a lodging-house in Smithfield with two other detectives—I searched from top to bottom for a man I had a description of—I found him (Murphy) in an underground kitchen amongst other men—I said to him, "I am a police-officer, and if you will come out of the kitchen I have something to say to you"—he said, "I was in bed last night, governor"—I said, "I have said nothing about bed yet; I am going to arrest you on suspicion of being concerned, with another man in custody, in breaking and entering several places in Miles Lane, City, last night"—he said, "You will have to prove it"—on the road to the station he said, "I know who it was put me away, that brown coat," and used a foul expression, and" I will be frank with you; I am not much like to have a good opinion, you think, because I have been caught before"—I took him to the police-station—he was identified from other men.
Cross-examined by Murphy. I did not say, "I want you for breaking and entering warehouses last night," and you did not reply, "What do you mean? I was in bed last night"—it was as I said it—I was not present when you were picked out.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I know nothing at all about it. I should not have been here at all if it was not for being known. Police-constable Shepherd pointed me out in the house to Hobson. He knows me through being in Charlton's company, that is all. I was in bed that night. The constable asked the lodging-house keeper what time I was in bed, but he could not say; there were such a lot of lodgers. He knows I was in bed, and my lodging paid. I have no witnesses to call."
Witness for the defence.
ALFRED CHARLTON (the other prisoner). I know Murphy—he has been in my company—he is innocent of this charge—he was not the man who was with me—I do not like to tell you who was the man—a man out of Brick Lane—I do not know his name—I have only been with him once.
GUILTY .—Murphy was also charged with a conviction of felony in September, 1891, at Newington, in the name of George Roberts.
WILLIAM MILLER (City Police). I was present at the South London Sessions in September, 1891, when the prisoner was convicted—in March, 1892, he was sentenced as a rogue and vagabond, at the Guildhall, in the name of George Roberts.
GUILTY.*—MURPHY— Eight Months' Hard Labour. CHARLTON** Three Years' Penal Servitude
MR. FARELLY Prosecuted.
JOHN LANDY (Detective, City). On March 14th I was in Cheapside, about 3.5 p.m., with Detective Greenough, and watched the prisoners pushing people about at the corner of Gutter Lane—I saw Dennis place himself in front of a gentleman, and Betts, on the left of Bishop, behind the gentleman—Betts placed his left hand under his right arm and caught hold of the gentleman's watch-chain—the gentleman left the crowd, and the prisoners walked away and got into another crowd and repeated the same thing—they followed the gentleman as far as Milk Street, where he entered a shop—he was looking at a side window in Wood Street—I followed the prisoners—Dennis placed himself in front of Pocock, Betts on the left and Bishop behind—Betts placed his left hand under his right arm and got hold of his watch and chain—suddenly Betts left the crowd—I went to Pocock, and in consequence of what he said to me I went after the prisoners to Wood Street, a house or two down—Dennis seeing me following, commenced running—Greenough and I went after them, and told Dennis and Bishop we should take them into custody for stealing a watch and chain in Cheapside—we took them to the station and searched them—about 9.55 the same night, in Old Broad Street, near Threadneedle Street, I saw Betts, and said, "I am a police officer, and shall take you into custody for being concerned with the two men in custody"—he said, "You are-taking a b——liberty. You did before. I would like to kick your——"—I took him to the station—he was charged—he made no reply.
Cross-examined by Betts. I did not find that you had the watch at the station—I left the crowd and followed the other prisoners—the crowd was looking at a music shop window in Cheapside.
By the JURY. I was about ten yards from them when I saw Betta getting the man's watch-chain—we did not find the watch—about fourteen people were looking in at the window.
CHARLES GREENOUGH (Detective, City). I was with Landy—I heard his evidence at the Police-court, not here—we saw prisoners moving suspiciously in the crowd at the corner of Gutter Lane, Cheapside—we watched them—I saw Dennis place himself in front of a gentleman, and Betts on the left of Bishop behind—Betts placed his hand on the gentleman's watch-chain under his left arm—they moved from there towards Milk Street, following the gentleman—I next saw them, at the corner of Wood Street, place themselves beside Pocock, in the same position at before, Betts on the gentleman's left, Dennis in front, and Bishop behind, Betts placing his left hand under the right arm on to Pocock's watch-chain—I then saw him leave the crowd very hurriedly, and joined by the other two prisoners, they went into Wood Street—I followed with Landy down Wood Street, and arrested Bishop—Betts ran away—all three commenced to run when we were following them in Wood Street—Landy arrested Dennis.
against me, and about a minute afterwards I suddenly missed my watch—simultaneously Landy spoke to me—the watch was not found.
Cross-examined by Betts. I did not see you.
Bishop's defence. I hope you will give me a fair hearing on the few charges against me, and I hope you will take them into consideration before you fetch us in guilty or not guilty. Betts in his defence said he told the detective he had made a mistake.
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Worship Street, in July, 1893, in the name of Harry White, and BETTS* to a conviction at Clerkenwell, in October, 1893, in the name of Albert Roberts.— Three Years' Penal Servitude each.
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Clerkenwell in June, 1892.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DUCKWORTH Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH JONES . I live at 252, New North Road—on the evening of the 18th March I was going down Hoxton with my husband near the Britannia Theatre—passing a narrow court, I saw four men together—the prisoner is one—he darted out from the other three, and twisted my arm, wrenched it round, taking my purse out, and gave me a blow in the chest, which nearly knocked me down—one of the other men gave me another blow, which sent me to the stones—I had nineteen to twenty shillings, and some coppers, in my purse; more, if I reckoned it up—I called to my husband to stop him—my husband stopped him—I went to the station—I picked out the prisoner—I could not go to the station directly, I was so badly used—my husband had the prisoner—I cannot do my work, my arm was wrenched.
HENRY JONES . I am a harness maker—I live with my wife—on 18th March I was going down Hoxton Street—my wife was three yards in front—she called out, "Stop him!"—I said, "Stop him; what for?"—she said, "He has got my purse; got the lot"—I ran after the prisoner, and caught hold of the leg of his trousers—I was knocked down and lost my hold of him, and the constable had him—the prisoner had my hat and I had his.
JAMES BALDWIN (308 G). On the evening of 18th March I heard a. row, and someone shouting out, "He has got my purse"—I saw people in Britannia Gardens—I ran in, and found the prisoner and the last witness struggling on the ground—I caught hold of the prisoner and said, "You have got this woman's purse"—he said, "If I have got it, you won't b——well take me"—he was very violent, and threatened to kick my b——guts out.
The prisoner's defence. I knew nothing about it till I found myself in the policeman's hands.
GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour
MR. HARDY Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
GEORGE WORDLEY . I live at 83, Anerdale Road, East Greenwich—on the 29th October I was in Whitechapel—I came to St. Mary's Station to go by a South Eastern train—on going into the urinal, opening the door, three people shoved in front—as soon as I got in they tore my coat open and pulled me down in a scuffle; the prisoner seized my chain and a spade guinea as I was trying to fight my way with my fist—I picked the prisoner out from six or seven others last Monday at Leman Street—I had two telegrams, and could not go three weeks last Monday to identify a man who was convicted—another I picked out was convicted two months ago before Sir Forrest Fulton—this is the third and last man—the zchain is useless now.
Cross-examined. I drew back and let the others in—I was struck between them; a stranger would not come in and do it—I was kicked on the knee—there was violence—I went to the London Hospital six or seven weeks—all three were in front of me—I saw the men's face—it was light—I had not seen the prisoner before to my knowledge—I knew none of the men—I do not know how the prisoner was dressed—there were not two or three old men for me to identify from—no one was with me when I picked die prisoner out—I did not see the prisoner in charge when I got to the station—I was told to come inside, and the sergeant said he would call me when I was wanted—he came in and said, "There you are, have a good look"—the men were in a circle, and I went and looked at this one and that one, and, I think, the prisoner was the fourth—I put ray hand on his shoulder.
Re-examined. I have no doubt the prisoner was the man who attacked me—I cannot tell you whether the inspector was present; he might hare been; I only saw the inspector or sergeant at the station; he took me there, and I did not know I had picked the right man out.
CHARLES WHYATT . I am a gasfitter, of 25, Scudamore Street—on October 29th, about 4.15 p.m., I saw Woodley going into St. Mary's railway station at Whitechapel—the three men and others were going into the station—when Woodley got to the door of the urinal the prisoner pinned him by the back of the neck on the pavement outside—I stood against the door and saw it all—the urinal door was never shut—another man snatched the chain, and the men ran off—I went for assistance and ran after the men—I went back—I have seen the prisoner four times since, walking about the road with others—I picked him out at Leman Street from nine or ten men on Sunday night, March 3rd.
Cross-examined. The men I picked him out from were about the prisoner's age—I went to the station in answer to a telegram—I did not we the detective—the inspector asked me what I wanted, and I told him—I know a few policemen—they know me—I have been in trouble for robbing my master, Mr. Sputt—I got six months for it.
Re-examined. That was not a robbery with violence—I have been leading an honest life since—I have been in work all the time.
ARTHUR UNWIN (63 H). I received a description of a man who was wanted—on 3rd March I took the prisoner into custody in the Whitechapel Road—he passed me, and as he answered the description I had in my pocket-book I went after him, and stopped him—after having a good look at him, I told him I should take him into custody on suspicion
of stealing a spade guinea and a portion of a gold chain on the 29th October, and said, "You can come with me to Leman Street Station, to be identified"—he said, "I believe you have made a mistake, governor"—I took him to the station—I was present when Whyatt identified him.
Cross-examined. I saw Wyatt come in and pick the prisoner out, that is ail, not previous to that—I did not take the wire to Whyatt—I did not send the information to Wyatt to get him to the station, that was done by the inspector on duty.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Thursday, March 28th 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. C. MATHEWS and MR. H. AVORY Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN
GUILTY — Six Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Thursday and Friday, March 28th and 29th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
332. ALFRED ALEXANDER WARNER WALSH (alias ALFRED ALEXANDER WARNER ) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully forging and uttering an offer to settle a claim against the Guardian Life and Fire Assurance Company, purporting to be signed by Brown, Roberts, and Radmall; and a form of agreement to accept that offer, purporting to be signed by Alfred Warner; also to obtaining by false pretences 7s. from Ernest Cooper, and attempting to obtain £200 from Walter Smith and the Union Deposit Bank, with intent to defraud.
MR. CHARLES MATHEWS and MR. HEWITT Prosecuted.
CHARLES HENRY BARNES . I am a clerk in the Bills of Sale Office of the Royal Courts of Justice—I produce the copy of a bill of sale dated the 19th December, 1893, filed in our office—it is granted by William Barnard to W. J. and E. Hollingsworth to. secure the sum of £60 upon household furniture at No. 1, Beulah Villas, Beulah Road, Walthamstow—a piano is included in the schedule, and it is described as a cottage pianoforte in walnut case, by William Ward, No. 14,359—I also produce another office copy of a bill of sale of the 18th October, 1894, granted by Alfred Albert Warner to John Woolff to secure £70 on furniture at 3, Camden Villas, Romford—in the schedule there is a walnut cottage pianoforte by Ward, No. 14,359.
High Holborn—in December, 1893, I advanced to Barnard £60 on a bill of sale on furniture at 1, Beulah Villas, Walthamstow—the money was to be repaid by monthly instalments—the instalments fell into arrear, and I went to look after the furniture, but I did not find it at Beulah Villas—in August last I found him at No. 4, Oak Villas, Brentwood—the prisoner opened the door to me—when I went there early in August my conversation with Barnard was in his presence—I said we had traced the goods after their being surreptitiously removed to Brentwood, and I had gone down to take possession of them—I left a man in possession—it was arranged that Barnard should come up to see us the next morning—within a short time all the furniture mentioned in the bill was brought to our premises in Holborn with the exception of one or two articles that were burned—at the time I went down in August to trace the goods they had had a fire there—they had only just moved in, and the larger part of the goods were on the first floor—I went through the inventory as far as I could—at our valuation not more than £10 or £15, or at the outside £20 worth, I should think, was burned—I knew nothing then of any claim Barnard was making on the insurance company—with the exception of the £15 or £20 worth, the furniture was all taken back to Holborn, and there it remained until the 4th September, when Barnard came and handed me this cheque to pay off the sum owing on the bill of sale—I passed the cheque through my bankers, and retained what was owing to me, and handed him the balance—from that time the furniture was free and stood to Barnard's order—it remained with us till the 3rd October, when Barnard called and wrote an authority, which he left with my brother and myself—on the 4th October the prisoner came with a carman from Allen and, under the authority which Barnard had left, the furniture was handed over to the carman and the prisoner, and they took it away, giving me a receipt for the furniture—Barnard was an exceptionally fair man with pale blue eyes, and he wore gold-rimmed spectacles.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. The occasion of my visit to Brentwood was the first time I saw you; I did not know your name then—I have no idea off-hand what amount I stopped out of the cheque for £60 to discharge the bill of sale—I believe I did not take several articles of furniture not entered on the inventory to make up the amount—I went over the inventory, item by item—Barnard agreed to settle the bill of sale, and I agreed to warehouse the goods until he wanted them—I did not come to sec you at all—my business was with Barnard—the goods could have stayed at Holborn longer—as far as I know they could have remained there till now if Barnard chose.
RICHARD HAYWARD IVES . I live at High Street, Colchester, and am a clerk employed by the Essex and Suffolk Equitable Fire Insurance Company—at the end of last July, in consequence of an application made to me by Barnard, I issued a policy for £700, to date from the 15th July, upon the furniture and contents of 4, Oak Villas, Brentwood—he paid the premium—I received this letter on the 10th August, and I afterwards received this claim for £445 3s. 11d., which was referred to our assessor—I also received these letters, dated 21st, and 23rd, and lst August, and the 28th July—on the lst September I paid Barnard this cheque for £160 in discharge of his claim, that sum having been arrived at by settlement—I
insisted on the cancellation of the policy—I took this receipt for the amount—I received these two documents, dated the 16th August, and this further letter on the 19th July.
Cross-examined. There in one letter here with a printed heading, "Clevedon House, Forest Gate, Essex"—that is run through and there is written, "4, Oak Villas, William Barnard. Cash advanced from £1 to £500. Bills discounted."
ARTHUR WOODS . I am an architect and surveyor—on 9th August I let 4, Oak Villas, Warley Road, Brent wood, to Barnard—I had some slight correspondence with him before the agreement was signed, he sending me these documents and giving me these references—I saw Barnard in occupation after he took the house, and I saw the prisoner there at the same time—I don't recollect Barnard describing the prisoner to me in the prisoner's presence—within a short time of his going in there was a fire.
Cross-examined. Barnard represented you to me as his servant on one occasion—I have not considered whether Barnard was a man who could greatly influence other people—his references were received before he took possession of the house—he signed a provisional agreement—I wanted the agreement signed before he moved in, but I forewent that and took a provisional agreement—the official agreement was never signed—I should think a person would be very simple whom Barnard could exercise much influence over.
WALTER JAMBS HALFHIME . I live at Warley Road, Brentwood—on the 9th August, 1894, about 9 p.m. a tire occurred at 4, Oak Villas—I went to the house and saw a policeman there at the foot of the stairs, and I saw the prisoner in the passage against the staircase, up which I went in order to get to the fire—there was a considerable quantity of smoke—I broke open the door of the room where the fire was—it was a room on the first floor back—I stood in the doorway—there was a fire alight in the window in front of me as I stood, and there was a fire at the back of me too—two fires in quite distinct places—I rendered what assistance I could, and the fire was afterwards put out.
Cross-examined. The policeman was waiting at the foot of the stairs in the front hall—he was there before me—I don't know whether he had been up to see where the fire was—I think you were handing water up—I am not quite sure—someone told me outside there was a fire at the corner house, and I went and knocked at the front door and went in as a matter of curiosity.
JOHN ABRAHAM . I live at Brookley, Eastern Road, and am the land-lord of 3, Camden Villas—on July 9th, 1894, I let No. 3, Camden Villas, to the prisoner on a yearly tenancy—Barnard introduced him to me—he paid £5—he took the house three weeks from the quarter-day—on 4th October I saw some furniture being delivered there—I saw the prisoner moving furniture in the house—Barnard was with him and the man in the van—the prisoner gave me no notice of his intention to leave the house, but a few days after he had gone I found he had gone, and I took possession about the 8th October.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court that a message was left at my house a couple of days before that you were going to move some of the furniture—the kitchen was about ten feet square—it was a very
good open range, about thirty-six inches, and ought to cook for many people—it was a small kitchen—no rent was due when you moved, I should not have allowed you to move if there had been—I think Barnard exercised great influence over you in this instance—you left the house in a filthy state.
ALFRED BENJAMIN HORN . I am a clerk in the Loss Department of the Manchester Insurance Company, 96, Cheapside—on the 12th July a policy was issued by us to the prisoner on his household effects at 3, Camden Villas, Romford—just after the 4th of September a claim was made by the prisoner for £12 3s. 3d. in respect of a fire at 3, Camden Villas—the cause of the fire he stated to be "clothes airing"—that was settled by a payment of £7 10s. on the 28th of September, for which this is the receipt—on the 25th September I received a telegram, followed by a claim of £14 6s. for a second fire on the same premises—the cause is stated to be "clothes airing"—that was settled by a payment of £12 10s. on the 28th of September, the policy to be cancelled and surrendered—within a day or two of the 25th September the prisoner called at the Cheapside office and saw me, following up this telegram advising the second fire, and he complained that we had put him on the "black list" of the salvage corps—he seemed to know all about it—he told me it was done by sending out a card with a black edge containing either the name of the salvage corps or its chief officer, and on the back of the card was just written the name and address of the person the office wished to warn other offices against insuring—that card was sent round to. each of the offices, and it was understood that it was an insurance which was not desirable—the prisoner appeared to be annoyed at what was done—he stated that he got his information from friends in the salvage corps—his information was correct—he was" black-listed" a day or two before—when once a prisoner is "black-listed" it is only with very great difficulty that he is able to effect an insurance with a respectable office, and after considerable inquiry.
Cross-examined. If persons have a great number of fires through carelessness they would be "black-listed," no doubt—it is entirely done through the office—it is confidential—I cannot suggest how it got to you that you were "black-listed"—I only know by your information—it can only be done through a gross breach of confidence by an official of one of the offices, not necessarily a high official—in the ordinary course it would take a week or two to issue a policy after the proposal was received—if we wrote saying that the proposal was mislaid and that you would have to send another it would be three or four weeks before the issue of the policy—I do not produce the proposal.
ARTHUR SMITH . I am assistant superintendent at the Law Courts—the prisoner was employed there from January 24th, 1886, till he was suspended on May 30th, 1892, and dismissed by letter on July 5th, 1892—he had to sign this attendance book at the Courts—there are six letters from him in his writing.
Cross-examined. You were for six years six months and four days in the service there—you were honest and respectable so far as I knew—you were an ordinary attendant in uniform, attached to the writ department.
considerable experience in Courts of Justice—I have had before me the attendance book of the Royal Courts, and the letters which have been identified as being in the prisoner's writing—I have compared with them the letter of August 10th, signed William Barnard, it is in the prisoner's writing; the letter of August 13th, signed "W. Barnard, E.W.P.," is in the prisoner's writing; the letter of August 21st, signed "W. Barnard, A.H.P.," is in the same writing; the letter of August 23rd is written by the prisoner and signed by Barnard, I believe—the body of the letter of August 28th is written by the prisoner—I believe the whole of the letter of August 31st, including the signature "W. Barnard," to be in the prisoner's writing—I believe the body of the letter of 16th August to be in the prisoner's writing, and the signature in Barnard's—I believe the schedule of the 16th August to be in the prisoner's writing, and the signature in Barnard's.
Cross-examined. I have examined this bundle of receipts—I do not consider there are sufficient grounds for me to state in whose handwriting any of these receipts are, but I expressed a suspicion as to this one, which is made out to Warner, that there is a similarity in it to Barnard's writing—I must have a letter admittedly in Barnard's writing in order to compare them—I am instructed that the filling in of the claim on the Equitable of April, 1890, and also the document of October, 1890, are in Barnard's writing, and I have no reason to doubt they are—I saw a good many specimens which I was instructed were in Barnard's writing—the signature of the witness to the receipt of the £160 cheque at the back of the policy on the 1st September is Barnard's—I never saw him write, but documents were given to me as his, among others this receipt on the policy which I was told are undoubtedly in Barnard's writing; those I have compared with these, and from the similarities I have been able to associate them all in one group.
Re-examined. I suspected that the piano bill was in the writing of Barnard, bat I did not think I had sufficient grounds on which to prove it—if it is in Barnard's writing I believe it is disguised—I do not think these other receipts are in Barnard's writing—I see no similarity in the writing of the receipt for the marble clock to Barnard's writing; but I do not think I have sufficient grounds to impute it to anyone.
(MR. MATHEWS read the letters of August 10, 13, 21, and 23.)
SIDNEY ALLEN . I live at 36, Henry Road, Holloway—I am a green-grocer and carman—in October last the prisoner called with a friend who wore a long frock-coat and a pair of eye-glasses—he had a fair complexion—they gave me an order to remove some furniture from Holborn to Brentwood—about three weeks after they came again and asked me to remove the furniture from Brentwood to Tottenham—Samuel was my carman on the first occasion and Leabridge on the second.
Cross-examined. On the first occasion I removed the goods, not to Brentwood but to Romford—I made a mistake, and on the second occasion I removed the goods from Romford to Tottenham, and I was paid £4—I believe I received the money—someone called upon me about what evidence I could give—Tottenham would be seven or eight miles nearer London than Romford would.
Hollingsworth's I met the prisoner—I took a quantity of furniture in my van from there to, 3, Camden Villas, Romford—the prisoner went with me—at Camden Villas I saw a gentleman with glasses, as soon as I drew up at the door—the furniture was put into Camden Villas—the prisoner and the other gentleman superintended it—there was a piano among the furniture.
Cross-examined. The furniture was pretty good I should think for a working-man—you might have told me coming along that you had bought it—I do not recollect—Tottenham is about six or eight miles nearer Holborn than Romford.
THOMAS TIDMAN . I am clerk to Mr. John Woolff, of 17, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury—on October 9th in consequence of instructions I went to 3, Camden Villas, Romford, and looked at the furniture with a view to making a loan on it for my master—I saw the prisoner there—I asked him if he had the receipts for the furniture—he doubted if he could find then—I vent back and reported that to my employer—on October 17th I went again to Romford and made an inventory of the furniture with a view to a bill of sale, which was afterwards executed, and of which this is the office copy—under the date of 18th of October, Mr. Woolff advanced £70 on the furniture contained in the schedule to the bill—before October 17th the prisoner called at our office and produced a number of documents purporting to be copies of receipted invoices for the furniture—these are the documents—he told me they were copies, and that the originals he had either mislaid or was unable to produce.
Cross-examined. These are all the receipts which you handed me—there are only five—when I visited Romford you explained that you had lodgers, and I saw one of them—you said you intended taking another house near—it was very fair furniture—the house had the appearance of a lodging-house—in our opinion the furniture was not worth much more than £70, auction value—if it was sold by auction it would realise £70 to £75, all told—that is not leaving a margin to pay expenses or arrears of rent—it might fetch more—it might have been worth £150 to anyone who really wanted the goods, I should not say more—I should not say it would be worth from £300 to £400—I should say it would be worth between £150 to £200 upon a valuation between tenants coming in and someone going out—we should include in the valuation plate and linen, but dresses, suits, and clothes, and those things would not be included in the bill of sale—I saw the kitchen at Romford—it was rather a small one with a low ceiling—shortly after the fire you came to our office and informed us of it—you spoke about the death of one of your children—you did not treat it as a laughing matter or a thing to glory in to me—when I came to Romford I saw four lamps, one in the hall, one in the kitchen, one in the sitting-room, and one upstairs.
HENRY LKABRIDGE . I live at 44, St. George's Road, Holloway—I am employed by Mr. Allen—on the 23rd October I received instructions from him, and went to 3, Camden Villas, Victoria Road, Romford—I saw the prisoner there, and another man who wore glasses—he was rather a fair man—I did not take much notice of him—he went with us—I removed furniture from 3, Camden Villas, to Abbotsford Avenue, Tottenham—at Tottenham the prisoner met us—the furniture was carried
into the house—I did not go into the house above three times—I left the furniture there—we finished about 10 p.m., I should think.
Cross-examined. There were four horses, two large vans, and four men—we finished between 10 and 11, it may have been—we did not fix looking-glasses and so on; if we had done so, and distributed the furniture into the proper rooms, the job might have lasted till 12 o'clock—Tottenham is nearer London than Romford is—we were not tired—I saw some furniture go upstairs and some downstairs—I did not come in to take the money—I believe you settled that with Mr. Allen, and that you called and saw him afterwards—I could not say exactly which of us four men produced the receipt and took the money—I helped you in with one piano—I don't recollect having a job to get in, because the room was so full of furniture—I saw nothing out of the way at all as regards the room being packed—the furniture was put down in the ordinary way as far as I could see—none of the other men who were with me on the job are here—they were strangers to me—Mr. Allen engaged them—in ray opinion the class of furniture removed from Romford to Tottenham was very good, and there was a good quantity of it—I have recollected, and I believe I did receive the money in the passage—I had no occasion to go into the room, or to look into it—I noticed a quantity of furniture in the rooms and the passage—so far as I noticed, the greater part of the furniture was downstairs in the rooms—I believe I received £2.
By the COURT. I may have gone into the house three or four times—I unloaded the furniture, and handed it to those who carried it in—I believe the prisoner gave orders as to where the furniture was to be placed—I saw him there—I did not hear him give any orders as to placing the furniture—I heard no one give directions to my men—I did not notice that at all—I helped in with one piano—there was another van to be unloaded then—I was about four times in the house, and the last time I went in and out most of the furniture was in the house—I did not notice anything peculiar about the way it was packed in the rooms.
SIDNEY ALLEN (re-examined by the prisoner). I do not know where the other three men are who removed this furniture—I might be able to find them in the course of a few days, but at present I do not know where they are—I might be able to find them in time.
PERCIVAL HART . I am a builder and house-agent at 303, West Green Road, South Tottenham—I am an agent for the Guardian Life and Fire Assurance Company—on the 13th October I had a house of my own, No. 4, Abbotsford Avenue, Tottenham, to let—on that day the prisoner called on me—someone was with him—he asked me what houses I had to let, and I mentioned one or two, and he eventually agreed to take No. 4, Abbotsford Avenue, at a yearly tenancy of £32—an agreement was signed on that day—I spoke to him about references—he said he had lately sold his house in the north of London, and he was unable to give me a landlord's reference which I asked for—he said his furniture was warehoused—he also mentioned that it was insured in the Westminster Fire Insurance Company's Office—he asked me if it was necessary to give notice to the company of a change of address, and I said it would be, but that, if he wished, a new policy could be taken out in another office, and that I was agent for the Guardian Fire Office—he said he would
consider the matter, and let me know, when he was moving in, whether he would give notice to the Westminster Company for a transfer, or take out a new policy—I afterwards found out that his friend, who was present at this interview, was named Barnard—Barnard gave me a deposit of £1 when the house was taken—on 23rd October, between 4.30 and five p.m., the prisoner came and said, "I have considered the matter over which you spoke to me about, and I have decided to take out a new policy in the Guardian Fire Assurance Company for £700"—he threw down a sovereign, and asked me for the usual cover receipt—I said, "I shall not require so much; half a sovereign will be sufficient," and I gave him ten shillings back, with the receipt—I said I thought £700 was a large sum, and he said, "I have a lot of furniture, and instruments too; a piano"—I think he said he had two pianos—this is the receipt I gave the prisoner for the ten shillings; the counterfoil is in my book, which I produce—I left my office about 5.30 that afternoon, and passed the end of Abbotsford Avenue, and I saw a couple of large vans outside No. 4, and furniture being moved into the house—next day, 24th October, about six p.m., in consequence of information, I went to 4, Abbotsford Avenue, which was on fire at the time—flames were all through the house—the house is one of a row; No. 6 on one side, and No. 2 on the other, were both occupied at the time—the road was full of people—about eight o'clock the same evening I saw the prisoner—I saw him several times about Tottenham up to the end of last year—Barnard was usually with him when I saw him up to the end of the year—I have not seen Barnard since the beginning of this year—this is a ground-floor plan of No. 4, Abbotsford Avenue.
Cross-examined. I designed the houses myself, and know this plan at a glance—the furniture came in pantechnicon vans—so far as I can judge, I first heard of the fire about half-past six, I was having tea at the time—I was told by a man who drove up; it would take him about five minutes to come—there was a moderately strong breeze blowing that night; I should call it a windy night—I have not heard of anyone being scalded in consequence of your having thrown hot water over him on the night of the fire—I do not know of four water companies in the neighbourhood of 4, Abbotsford Avenue—I do not recollect your coming to me and saying, "I have had another bit of bad luck; I have lost one of my children;" you may have said it—certain inquiries were made some time after the fire by a detective—I went with him to the scene of the fire, and to Mrs. Fish's, No. 5—I did not press you to insure—my recollection is that Barnard throw the sovereign on the table—I am positive I saw you at eight o'clock, or a little later, at night—you were smoking a cigar at the time—the fire had gone too far for me to form an opinion as to the furniture—I could not say, from what I saw, that the best furniture was upstairs—the principal furniture I saw upstairs after the fire was bedroom furniture in bedrooms—the only time I spoke to Barnard was when he came with you and you took the house—I cannot say whether he was a man who would have influence over others; he would not have any influence over me—I did not hear at the time of your throwing a bucket through the window—there was a certain number of people about the place when I arrived—you asked me for a cover receipt for the money you paid, to the beat of my belief—I am not mistaken about it.
By the COURT. I have nothing outside my office to show that I am an agent for an insurance company; but inside my office, where the agreement was signed, there is the usual showcard, framed, on the wall—the cover receipt does not do more than protect the furniture pending the delivery of the complete policy—it is still open to the company, after inquiry, to refuse the risk—the cover note protects until the company sends word that they will not accept the risk.
CHARLES HAWKINS . I am a telegraph messenger, of 334, West Green Road, Tottenham—about 6.30 p.m. on 24th October I was close to Abbotsford Avenue, and I noticed smoke coming from the back windows of No. 4—there was a smell like that of a chimney on fire—I went to the front of 4, Abbotsford Avenue, and I noticed, looking through the windows on the ground floor, in the parlour, a small flame against the folding doors—I knocked at the front door more than once, but got no answer, and then I bashed open the front door which led into the passage—I saw no fire in the passage then—I went into the passage, and from the back room on my right flames came out at me; the wind blew the fire in the back room as soon as I opened the door, and I had to draw back—I went up two or three stairs of the staircase to see if there was anybody about, and then came back because of the flames—I saw from outside the window that there were folding doors between front and back rooms on the ground floor—the furniture was all packed on the right, and near the folding doors—when the flames drove me back I ran to the telegraph office, a very short distance off—I then came back to the house, which was all in flames upstairs and down—it took me less than ten minutes to go from the house to the telegraph office and come back.
Cross-examined. It was two or three minutes after I saw flames through the window that I burst the door open—it was a very small fire I saw when I looked in from outside—it took me three minutes to come from the back of Abbotsford Avenue to the front—I saw no flame till I got to the front—I noticed at the back black smoke issuing from the windows—I was then one hundred yards away—when I opened the front door I saw a very fierce fire burning in the back parlour—directly I opened the door the flames came out of the back room door, and started making for the staircase, because a strong breeze was blowing at the time—it was a windy night—the telegraph office is more than three hundred yards from the house, I should think.
CAROLINE BISHOP . I live at 90, Broad Lane, Tottenham—I was employed by Mrs. Rands, on 24th October, at 2, Abbotsford Avenue, where the Rands lived—shortly after six p.m. on that day I heard a rattling at the scullery window of No. 4—before that I heard a baby crying—I opened the scullery window of No. 2 when I heard the rattling, and saw a light like a large blaze coming from the open scullery door of No. 4—I saw, in the back garden of No. 4, which is divided by a fence from the back garden of No. 2, two men standing looking in at the door—one of them, a fair man, was smoking a cigar—the other man was dark; I could not recognise him—the fair man said, "The house is after"—I said, "How did it happen?"—he said, "Upset the lamp"—I said, "Why do not you put it out?"—he did not answer—I run for assistance—I went through the front door and to the fire-brigade station and gave the alarm, and then came back to No. 2—I could not get in there—I went
over to the opposite side—by that time the house was all afire—I stayed till eleven p.m.—about eight p.m. they allowed me to go back into No. 2; the fire seemed out then—during the time I was there, talking to the two men and looking at them, they did nothing to arrest the fire or put it out—as far as I know, I was the first person who gave information.
Cross-examined. When I saw the light from the scullery door it seemed as if the whole place was lit up—I did not see any flame, only the reflection of flame—the man said he had upset a lamp—the wind was getting up—I stood still a very short time after being told that the house was on fire; I ran for assistance at once—you could easily jump over into the back garden—I only saw the two men in the garden—I saw the reflection of a woman's back—I did not hear of a man being scalded by a bucket being thrown through the window—I cannot swear that you were the dark man; he was at the back of the fair man.
ROSE SUART . I am John Suart's wife, and live with him at 6, Abbotsford Avenue, Tottenham—on 24th October after six p.m. my husband called my attention to the back of No. 4—I immediately looked out of the window and saw large flames issuing from the dining-room French window on the ground floor—I went to the front door of No. 4 and knocked two or three times, but I got no answer—a telegraph boy came knocking at the door, and then I went to No. 2 to ask if the children were safe—I came back to my house and spoke to my husband—I have a little girl—there were families with children on both sides of No. 4—we removed some of our goods, and took our little girl out, and then I went to No. 19 opposite, and remained there until the roof of No. 4 fell in; that was from three-quarters of an hour to an hour after I had first seen the fire—I remained at No. 19 till the fire was out, which was about one and a half hour from the time it first broke out, I should think—the engines came there during the time I was standing there, twenty minutes to half-an-hour after the fire began.
Cross-examined. The first thing I saw was a tremendous flame coming from the back room of No. 4—it was rather a windy night—I did not see or hear of anyone being scalded with hot water—I did not notice anyone in the garden; I did not look—my husband saw it first, and I saw it almost simultaneously with him; we were both in the room—I thought it was well alight when I saw it—it could not have been burning very long—I did not see you come through the French casement and through the flames, my husband saw you.
Re-examined. Directly I had seen the flames at the French window I went to look after some of my things, and then I went to knock at the door of No. 4—I did not look out of the window after that—I concerned myself about my property.
JOHN SUART . I am husband of the last witness—on the evening of 24th October I heard a crash of glass being broken, and I looked out of our first-floor back window at 6, Abbotsford Avenue, and saw some flames in the lower room of No. 4—there was then another smash, and the prisoner came out through the French window into the back garden of No. 4, and I lost sight of him—I went to my bathroom and got a bucket of water, and threw it into the French window from my bath-room window—I then began to remove my furniture—before I left my bedroom and began to do that, and five or six minutes after I had seen
him come through the window, I saw the prisoner come from the back of his garden towards the French window; he was carrying something which looked like a pail—he then went back to the back of the garden, and that was the last I saw of him—I did not see what he did with the pail—I looked at the fire.
Cross-examined. I had seen you the previous evening in the road, when you were moving in—it was dark then—I can positively swear I saw you—the first thing I saw was a flame inside the room—I should not call it a windy night—I did not see or hear of anyone being scalded with hot water—you came through the French casement about a moment after I saw the fire—the place was well alight; there was plenty of flame—you might have come through a door from the hall, or you might have been in the room before you came through the window—the window was open when you came through it; it was shut when I first saw the flame—the glass was broken when you came through it—you might have been between the window and the flame—I did not notice several people in the garden.
EDGAR JOHN DONBAVAND , M.R.C.S. I live and practise at 223, West Green Road, Tottenham, the corner of Abbotsford Avenue—at 6.30 p.m. on 24th October, as I left my house, I smelt a strong smell of fire, and I looked down Abbotsford Avenue and saw a crowd in front of a house there—I went to the front of No. 2, and from the gateway there I could see through the ground-floor window into No. 4—I saw the room full of flame, and apparently in one corner of the room was a table with furniture piled on it, which was all on tire; the flame was going through the ceiling; the whole room seemed to be on fire—chairs were piled on the table about half-way up the room, towards the ceiling, and they were all on fire—flames came through the front window almost directly after I got to the gate of No. 2—I stayed a minute or two looking at the flames till I got the door of No. 2 open—I knew the people at No. 2; they were patients of mine—I helped them out—when I got to the roadway I could see the fire proceeding at No. 4—it burnt very rapidly indeed—I stayed till the fire engine arrived, in about twenty minutes—the engine-station is about a mile from the house as the crow flies; it is further to walk—there was a strong wind that evening—the slates were cracking and falling off when I got there.
Cross-examined. I presume that a strong wind would help the fire to burn; it would not make it fierce till it got to the flames—I did not see or hear of anyone being scalded with hot water—I cannot say whether if oil had been used there would have been much left unburned with that heat in the course of an hour.
By the COURT. I could not say if, with the exception of the furniture piled up at the right-hand side of the room, the room was empty; the room was full of flame, and I could only see what was close to the window—it was a bay window, and the furniture appeared close to the bay—flames seemed coming up from the whole floor, all over the surface—I do not know whether the furniture was distributed through the room, or whether it was all concentrated on the one table.
SMOLLET EDDINGTON . I am superintendent of the Tottenham Fire Brigade—at 6.51 p.m. on 24th October I received a call for Abbotsford Avenue—when I arrived there No. 4 was well alight—the fire was coming out of the front room bay windows and the top floor back window—it had not actually got to the roof, but the whole place was alight from top to bottom—having got the hydrant to work I took Perkins into the passage—a lot of fire was raging in the front room, and there was fire in the back room; I had to get the second delivery to work before I went in—the passage leading from the front was well alight—we washed that out as we went in—I and Perkins went together into the front room, and worked on the fire there with partial effect—in certain parts of both front and back rooms the water took effect, and in certain parts it did not; practically it took no effect on the main body of the fire—I had a man working at the back of the house at that time, and I went round to see what he was doing—we had a steamer's branch on at the back, and there were three deliveries altogether—when I got to the back, fire was breaking out and taking No. 6; just the outside of the bays was on fire—we stopped it there; it had just caught—I took considerable notice of the effect the water had; it had absolutely no effect on the main body of the furniture stacked up between the two rooms; it was in a very peculiar position—it appeared piled up between the back and front rooms, which communicated by folding doors—I could not say whether the doors were standing then or not, but there was fire between the two rooms—I went to work on the bay windows of the front room—it was a small fire there, and I ordered Perkins to get the fire out behind me, because I did not want it to cut me off after I got inside—he got to work, but it took no effect—I said, "It won't put the fire out"—when I looked next morning there was nothing, but the fire went down when you put the water there, but it came back again, and the water seemed to have no effect at all—I have had twelve years' experience of fires—these flames were not, in my opinion, such as would be caused by burning wood or ordinary furniture; they were an oil fire, most distinctly—I said so as soon as ever we pulled up, and I was satisfied of it by the sort of hissing sound (like bacon frying, although not so pronounced) that the fire made; it is distinct from the burning of wood—the smoke was very dense, like you would get from an oil fire—it was paraffin oil, probably—oil fires are not altogether uncommon, in my experience; I have had a good many of them—at one time I had to deal with a firm who extinguished fires by means of chemicals, and fires were created there by means of oil for the purpose of trying experiments with the extinguishers; and then I have had to deal with the oil mills in Belvedere Marshes; so that I have dealt with pretty big fires one way and another—the conclusion I express to-day is the one I formed and expressed at the time.
Cross-examined. A fire arising from oil consists of a flame which bursts outwards; it is rather darker than an ordinary wood fire; it rolls up at the end, and emits a large quantity of black smoke, which comes apparently from the extreme end of the flame—the fire was right through your property—I would not say there were two fires; I think it was alight all over when I got there—there was dense smoke and soot, which I should expect to find from oil—I told
you that I was very much surprised that a small lamp should have caused it, when I asked you for particulars next morning—we were called at 6.51; we got there as nearly as possible in ten minutes, which would be 7.1; in three minutes after that we had the water on, and I should think it would be another three or four minutes after that before I was in the room; that would be six or seven minutes past seven—it did not take us long to get the fire out in the passage; that went down before us; it would not go down in the room—the room, when I saw it first, was pretty full of furniture stacked up between the two rooms—there was a very considerable distance between the bay windows and the furniture; I remarked at the time it was a very funny way to put it—they said it had just been brought in; but furniture when it is brought in is put as nearly as you want it, and this was stacked up—I saw very little of what was upstairs—all I saw was downstairs; the bulk of it—the furniture being packed close, with bedding and all kinds of things, would not account for the fierceness of the flame—you said you broke the window, and that would account for part of it—I asked you how you accounted for the fire, and you told me it was a pure accident that you were insured at all—the day after the fire I asked you your name—you said Alfred Warner—I asked your business; you said none, it was a private house—I said, "Can you account in any way for this tire?"—you said you accounted for it by the fact that you had just come home and got to the door, and your wife came to open it as your keys would not exactly answer, and in coming to open it she knocked a benzoline lamp off a what-not in the front room ground floor; that seeing the fire, and not being able to get in at the door, as your key would not answer, you got in at the window—I said it was a very inadvisable thing to do to break a window in the case on a house being alight in the way you described it—you said your anxiety to get to your wile was such that you broke the window to do it—I was very careful about making these notes at the time—there was a pretty fair wind blowing at the time, but nothing much out of the way; there was not anything to cause that fire—we worked from a hydrant; it threw enough water for the job—a steamer came, but we had two hydrants, back and front, before the steamer came—there are three water companies near there, but the Tottenham District Company supply the water there, and their keys fit ail the cocks there; our key will fit any of them—I looked over the premises by daylight after the fire was over; I paid no attention to whether the better-class furniture had been put upstairs—I asked if you were insured, and you told me it was a pure stroke of luck you were; that Mr. Hart had tried to make you insure; that you had been insured in the Westminster for six years before, and you did not like to leave them, and that he had prevailed on you to insure in his office—I said, "It is a lucky job for the Westminster"—a considerable quantity of oil must have been used—when you come to put oil on furniture it goes a long way—I would not say that barrels of oil had been used—from the time the fire was seen it was not three-quarters of an hour before we were in the room—we should hart been much quicker if anyone had come to fetch the engine—the dense smoke and soot arose from what was burning inside—the walls may have been brick; but they may have been oiled over first.
Re-examined. A person would first go to the High Cross Fire Station, which would take eight or nine, or perhaps ten, minutes; and then from there they would have to go to the police station to call us, and that would take another three or four minutes.
JAMES PERKINS . I am a fire foreman at Tottenham—I went to Abbotsford Avenue on this night, getting there about seven—the house was well alight from top to bottom—I could make no impression on the, front with the branch, so I went to the door leading from the passage, and put my branch on the front room—it appeared as if there had been folding doors which had gone—there was a cloud of black smoke—the water had no effect for a considerable time—I saw a pile of fire in the centre of the front room, and I put my water towards that; it took no effect there for some time—I kept the water round the front room—in certain places it seemed to knock the fire out; in other places it would not seem to touch it—I stayed at the house all the evening, till about eleven o'clock, playing on the fire—I was in the passage fifteen or twenty minutes after we got there; the fire burnt till eleven o'clock—it was a very fierce fire indeed—we had plenty of water for an ordinary fire in a private house—I formed the opinion that there was more than ordinary wood and furniture burning; in my opinion there must have been some oil there; the smoke was very dense—two of my firemen were injured, and were attended by the surgeon.
Cross-examined. I was on the scene at the same time as Eddington, and we worked together for a time—I cannot say whether the brick walls were afire in the room; the flames went up the brick wall—it took two to three minutes to get the water on to the fire—I was not on the ladder, waiting for water to come through the branch, for about two minutes—I was working in the front room window before I went into the passage—in the back room, and in the centre of the front room, there was a good deal of furniture, piled up very close—I don't know when the fire began—the furniture being packed close with bedding, clothing, curtains, and soon, would not account for the fierceness of the fire in a private house—I don't think that ordinary furniture and ordinary clothes would account for the fierceness of the fire—as a seaman, I should say there was a good breeze—I only worked from the street hydrant—four engines came to the fire, one was the Hornsey steamer; and that was the only steamer there—the wrong key was not brought.; the water was not delayed forty minutes—I did not look over the premises by daylight after the fire.
CHARLES HENRY OUGDEN . I am a member of the Salvage Corps at Upper Street, Islington—on 24th October I took charge of 4 Abbotsford Avenue—on 25th October I and another man commenced sifting debris on the ground floor—between 25th October and 7th November I made a thorough examination of the premises—the house was practically burnt through—in sifting the debris in the back room I found the fragments of four oil lamps and two oil stoves—in the centre of the back room, in the front of the fire place, I found a piece of woollen material, as if it had been sheared from a sheep's back; but it was all matted together—it smelt very strongly of paraffin oil—I should say that the fire had burnt most fiercely at the place I
found that; the flooring was entirely burnt away, and the joists had been burnt into, but not through—the piece of material was about as much as you could hold in double hands—obviously there had been a fire in the back room and in the front room—the passage was not burnt nearly so much as the flooring of the back room—I saw the prisoner some four days after my arrival—he told me the fire had originated through the upsetting of a benzoline lamp which stood on a what-not in the corner of the passage; that in passing down the passage his wife, after admitting him, had pulled it over with her dress—I did not find any lamp or fragments of one in the passage—he pointed out where the what-not had stood; I did not find in the neighbourhood of that place any evidence of considerable fire on the flooring or about it—there has been at one time, so far as I could see, folding doors between the two rooms—on the floor, and almost midway between the two rooms, I saw a small benzoline lamp, to which the prisoner called my attention, and said, "That is the little thing that did the trick"—that was not in the passage, it was about nine feet away from where there was the greatest evidence of burning in the back room—when I first went there I asked the prisoner the cause of the fire, and afterwards in the course of conversation I asked him how he managed to do it so nicely—he made a rambling statement; I could not say exactly what it was, but I know it concluded with something like: "Some people think it is hard to fire a private house."
Cross-examined. This material was found about the centre of the back room. (Percival Hart was here asked by the prisoner the size of the back room, and stated that it was 11 feet 6 inches square.) It was two or three feet in front of the fireplace—I relieved a Tottenham Brigade man when I went in—a little lamp like this might be kicked about; but I found this from one to two feet below the surface of the debris—I should not swear it was not a larger lamp than this; I think not—if it was it was very little larger—the other lamps I found in the debris were larger than this one, reservoir lamps—they were below the debris—this piece of woollen material was below the debris—I was more than a week sifting; I began on 7th November, within fourteen or fifteen days after I arrived, and when I finished it would be nearly four weeks after the fire had happened—I found this little lamp on the fourth or fifth day of sifting, I should say—I finished up sifting in the basement—I did all the upstairs first—I should say it would be about three weeks after the fire before I found this lamp—several holes were burnt through the front-room flooring—in the front doorway it was burnt away, and I had to put boarding where the flooring of the passage was burnt away—the flooring was not burnt away more than about two feet in front of the front-room door and passage—there was a lot of flooring burnt away, taking the whole of the two rooms—there is no doubt that there was a large quantity of furniture in the house at the time of the fire—I could not see what the quality of the furniture had been, it was too much burnt—I saw ordinary kitchen utensils in the kitchen—I saw some things out in the garden when I arrived; I should think it would take a man a very few minutes to pull those things out—I found a good number of iron bedsteads in the two rooms downstairs—it was nearly twenty hours after the fire when I took possession—it was not possible for the benzoline lamp to have rolled or
been pushed to the place I found it—the woollen material I found nearly three weeks after the fire—it was saturated with paraffin to the best of my belief—water will not touch things saturated with oil or paraffin; it will run off—water might mix with paraffin with a lot of trouble, I never tried to do it—I never took notice of people being tried for adulterating paraffin with water—the conversation I spoke of was three or four days or a week, or a little more after my arrival—I thought when you said, "That is the little thing that did the trick" it was rather a bold remark for you to make—I did not report it to my superior officer when I saw him—I first mentioned it to Inspector Williamson, I believe—a detective called to inspect the premises—when I came on duty there were tables, chairs, washing machine, and so on, in the garden, that I was told 70 a had pulled out—I found the lamps uninjured—I found paraffin in them—one of them was nearly full, and another half full—it is quite possible that some of the lamps might have fallen through from upstairs.
JANE BRIGHTMAN . I live at 12, Pelham Road, Tottenham—on 12th October Barnard engaged rooms at that house, and the prisoner and his wife came there at night—Barnard promised to bring them in the afternoon, but they did not come till the last thing at night—Barnard, the prisoner and his wife and three children, came the day after the fire, and stopped a week, till two or three days before Christmas—Barnard went a week before that—he did not tell me he was going—after he left I found an insurance paper in his drawer—it is an insurance policy in the Westminster Office on No. 11, Haslemere Road, in the name of Warner, for £500.
Cross-examined. You and your wife and I had conversations—you never talked to me about a fire—you did not look as if you gloried in it; you looked as if you had committed a murder, you looked so serious—I heard the evidence of Mr. Lewis and Mr. Marks at the Police-court—I did not hear you make use of any of the remarks that they have imputed to you—you were very quiet; and that is what Barnard said he did not like you for, because you were too cunning—you always appeared as if the fire was a bad job for you, and appeared regretful—I never saw you in Barnard's room, but I saw Barnard in your room—Barnard had great influence over you.
JAMES LEWIS . I am an auctioneer and valuer, carrying on business with Mr. Otto Marks at 6, Southampton Buildings—we are fire assessors—part of our business is to make claims for losses by fire—in consequence of a telegram received on 26th October, I sent a clerk named Davids to Tottenham—up to that time I had no knowledge of the prisoner—the clerk returned and made a communication, and next day, the 27th, the prisoner came to our office and saw me—he said his name was Alfred Warner, and that he came about a fire at his premises in Abbotsford Avenue; that he wished my firm to act for him in settlement of his claim against the Guardian Insurance Company—he brought a detailed statement of the furniture and effects supposed to be on the premises, and I went through it with him on the 27th—the number of articles claimed for struck me, and I told him that I thought the items were in excess of what the house would properly contain, and I advised him to go very carefully through it, in fact I went through it with him, item by item, and made certain corrections as to what he thought was wrong in the details and prices—I advised
him not to make any claim but what he could thoroughly substantiate to the insurance surveyors—he asked me as to the course adopted by the insurance surveyors—I told him it would be necessary for him to procure invoices for any furniture he had purchased, and to give full evidence as to what furniture he had acquired by gift, or otherwise—he left with me the paper he brought with him, to have it fair copied, as well as the receipt of the 24th October—under my instructions the detailed statement was prepared, which on 30th October was sent to Messrs. Brown, Roberts, and Radmall—this portion of the claim is founded on the written instructions left with me by the prisoner—there was attached to it a letter, which was forwarded with it, I think—there was a cover note for £700; the detailed account shows something over £700—the claim was forwarded direct to the assessors, Messrs. Brown, Roberta, and Radmall, and they had it under investigation in November, and on the 28th of November I received this letter from them, asking for invoices and particulars—I saw the prisoner about it, and showed it to him—he said he had procured the furniture from different auction rooms, that certain furniture was given to him, and others he had acquired from firms which were closed, and consequently it would be difficult for him to get invoices—I recommended him to take the claim, and state upon it to the best of his ability where he had acquired the property—within a few days he brought to me a document, of which this is a copy, purporting to show where the different things were bought—I did not forward that to Brown, Roberts, and Radmall—I saw the prisoner within a day or two, and said that that information would be no use to the surveyors, because it was too vague—I advised him to go through the claim itself, and give better information, and send it himself to the surveyors—I had advised him some time prior to this that we could not act for him—I first told him that within a week of the fire—I declined to act because the whole surroundings of the case were so extremely suspicious; I told him so—the prisoner called at our office thirty-eight times, and Barnard called, either separately or with the prisoner, twenty times—during the whole of these interviews they spoke about the fires and the origin of the fires, and prisoner, in Barnard's hearing, told me about the origin of the fire in Abbotsford Avenue—my partner was present—at the first interview he gave, as the cause of the fire, the accidental upsetting by his wife of an oil lamp; subsequently he gave me fully to understand that he knocked the lamp over himself—about a week after his first statement he informed me that he had got the whole place packed up; the front windows stowed with furniture, in such a way that nobody could get in from that part to extinguish the fire, that he had lamps distributed all over the place among the furniture, filled with benzoline, and that he had knocked over this lamp purposely in the hall; that there were curtains and loose stuffs all surrounding it, and that the lamp had fallen on it and fired it—he did not tell me as to anything being put on the furniture—he said the better part of the furniture was upstairs, and the inferior downstairs, so in case the fire did not reach the upper floors, the assessors of the insurance office would come to the conclusion that the whole of the furniture was of the best description—there was conversation over the whole of this period; it was common knowledge throughout all fire circles, or there was very strong suspicion
that this was an incendiary fire; that was my own knowledge—he told me about other fires—Barnard was not present then; he did not appear for some time afterwards—the prisoner spoke about the linen airer fires—he said that he had had a claim against a company, and I think he gave me the amount which had been arrived at by the company's surveyors, and that the claim was not settled quick enough, and he would get the linen airer over again, to make them pay quicker—the assessor in that case was Mr. Montague Gregory, of the Manchester Office—he also in the early days spoke about Barnard, and told me how he had got someone to go to the police and get a warrant against Barnard for something in respect of come salvage that he had received in respect of a previous fire—there seemed at that time a very strong antagonistic feeling between the two, in fact Warner gave information about Barnard, and Barnard was telling me about the prisoner in the absence of each other—for a long time the prisoner represented himself to be Alfred Warner, a man of property, having freehold property at Dover and Folkestone—he told me about this bill of sale, how he had removed the furniture there—I advised him to go on if the fire was genuine, they would support him as to the value—I said to him, "If you have freehold property at Dover and Folkestone why did you borrow money under a bill of sale, and pay a very heavy percentage, whereas on freehold property you could have got it at three or four per cent.?"—his idea seemed to be to use our name, anticipating the difficulty of getting the insurance office to settle, and writing to moneylenders to lend money, telling them to the effect that he was insured for £700, and that a claim had gone in for so much—on the 3rd December the prisoner brought Barnard—this is a copy of my call-book—the prisoner came in and said, "Barnard is outside, shall I bring him in?"—I said, "Certainly"; from that time the two seemed friendly again when they were together—on 5th December, by my dictation, this letter was written by the prisoner—he gave it to me to take to the assessors—from the very first I advised him to withdraw his claim—I did not deliver the letter to the assessor; I showed it to Mr. Radmall, senior, and asked him if he would like to retain it—he said "No," and I have kept it ever since. (This letter stated that the prisoner had been offered an engagement, and must leave town, and could not wait to enforce his claim)—that is addressed to us—I showed it to Mr. Radmall, the assessor to the company—from almost the first the prisoner knew there was strong suspicion; he informed my partner and myself that the police had been down there making investigations—the claim went in about 3rd November, and two or three days after that I went to Radmall's office, and made a communication to him—from that time I had not the slightest intention of going on with the claim.
Cross-examined. The communication that I made to Mr. Radmall a few days after the claim had gone in was that it was a case that required every investigation, and that I could not be a party to any settlement—I have not got my call-book, but I believe this is a true copy; I looked at the lad when he was copying it—the last time I saw Barnard was 13th February; at that time I knew there was a warrant out for his arrest—you never told me your name was Walsh; I asked you over and over again what your true name was, and you have told me your name was Warner; you never went under any other name—I believe you said
you had lived at Walthamstow—the Walthamstow fire was mentioned—I cannot remember any distinct statement on your part that you had lived at Walthamstow—you made very few admissions lo me, only that you had set fire to the place, and kicked the clothes-horse over—I don't remember seeing Mr. Woolley in my office after the fire when he said he was perfectly satisfied with your character, and would lend you money at any time—I remember seeing Mr. Woolley at my office with you and your solicitor; I believe he said something totally different; I will tell you if you press me—I have not seen Barnard five or six times since the warrant has been out for his apprehension—I should not think he had great influence over you; I should think you had influence over him—I had a very bad opinion of him—you called on me on 26th, 27th, and 29th October; on the 31st you called twice, on 1st November three times, on 2nd November three times, once on the 3rd and three times on the 5th—on four occasions you called three times in one day—I returned your original claim to you some ten or twelve days after the fire, I should think—the total amount claimed by that was between £727 and £730, I think—the first time I saw you was when you brought that claim—if I said at the Police-court that it was not so much your fraud as a man as your inhumanity as a father that decided me, I must have misunderstood the question put tome; it was the whole affair, not one more than the other; your own line of action and your conversation—I decided that I would have nothing more to do with the matter almost directly after you had sent in the claim—I gave you distinctly to understand, and I gave you the best advice I could give you; that was to abandon your claim; and eventually you acceded to what I suggested, and wrote the letter which I took to Mr. Radmall—I told you over and over again that there would be no settlement of your claim, that the insurance company never meant to settle it—I do not remember you coming to my office and saying you had instructions to meet Mr. Radmall, nor advising you what to say and do, and asking you to come back and let me know how you got on—at your first visit to me you introduced yourself as Alfred Warner, and said you had had a fire, and held a cover note from the Guardian Company—that would be the 26th October—the next day you brought the claim—you came and told me you had had an interview with Mr. Radmall—you told me Mr. Greenwood had come, and offered to act for you—I advised you to tell Mr. Radmall that you had had the offer from Mr. Greenwood, and ask him if it would be wise to let him have the matter to deal with—I have no recollection of your telling me, about the beginning or middle of December, that Barnard had left Tottenham, and that you did not know where he had gone—I did not advise you that he was a cunning fellow, and that you should be careful of him—you seemed to be frightened of Barnard, and Barnard of you—when Mr. Radmall's letter came, asking where the goods came from, I advised you to give correct information—you told me, at an early stage, that you had got furniture from your mother, who lived in a village in Somersetshire, ten miles from a railway station, and so they would have difficulty in verifying the statement—we heard what you suggested; we made no suggestions—my advice from the earliest stages was to abandon your claim—you did not say that some of the things were formerly Barnard's, and came from Hoi lings worth's; I found that out myself, a long time after—I found that and the
whole of your history out from Barnard—it was not till the very end that I knew your name, and then Barnard told me—I asked you who you were over and over again, and told you you could not be Warner—this letter was written at my office; I did not dictate the terms; I made a general suggestion to withdraw from the claim—I told you the assessors had every means in their power to find out everything, and they would use every effort—I don't think you wanted much dictation in writing that letter; you are a thoroughly good penman—I thought you would go away; you told me you were going to get a situation somewhere—a month and five days after I decided not to help you that letter was written—I received this letter of 28th November from Radmall—I don't think it was answered; I am not certain. (MR. MATHEWS produced and read the reply of the witness of 29th November, It stated that they had seen the assured on the subject of the letter of the 28th, and that he informed them he could not obtain any invoices, as some of the property was bought for cash, some was given to him, and some was bought at auction sales. A letter from Brown, Roberts, and Radmall, of 30th November, was also read, asking which of the items had been bought for cash, and which had been bought at auction sales)—I could not do more or less, as representing you as an assessor than to write back on your instructions—I wrote on 12th, 13th, or 14th December to the assessors, with drawing from acting for you, I am not certain as to the exact time—I remember your bringing this statement as to where you got the furniture from—I did not say it was all right, and that they could not trace anything in it; I told you it was all wrong, and I could not send it in—I did not say I could not send it, as Barnard might tell the assessors it was wrong, and that he might tell them the furniture came from Hollings—worth's—I advised you to send another statement yourself—I have no recollection of supplying you with an envelope for the purpose of sending it, but I believe you had some of our notepaper as well.
Friday, March 29th, 1895.
JAMES LEWIS (Continued). This is the letter by which we withdrew from acting for you; it is dated 10th December, 1894—prior to that I had seen Radmall, and told him we were going to withdraw—between 26th October and 10th December I omitted nothing that I could do with a view to forwarding the claim—all I could do was to send the claim in to the assessors, and until I heard from them I was powerless to move—the assessors have to make inquiries, turn over the débris, and we rarely communicate with them until they write to us—I spoke generally on the matter to Mr. Radmall—I had occasion to see him from the time this claim went in about several other matters, and I broached this matter to him several times; he was fully aware of the suspicious circumstances—I should say I first spoke to him about it within a week of the claim going in—a great deal emanated from Radmall himself; we were saying the matter was full of very suspicious circumstances, the fire, and the cover note, and the fire within a few hours of it, and so on—I did not tell him at that period that you had told me you had set fire to the place—I spoke about our conversations to a good many people; this fire was a matter of public comment in all fire circles; among others, I mentioned to the manager of one of the insurance companies, within two or
three days after the claim went in, the suspicious nature of this fire, the cover note, the nature and quick action of the fire—you had not then communicated the facts to me—I could not tell you who was the first person I told that you had told me you set fire to the place—Radmall had a suspicion of the matter, and there was no reason for me to htell him; he had a knowledge of the suspicious circumstances of the case—the matter was being spoken about by everybody—I am in the habit nearly every day of meeting insurance managers and surveyors, and this matter always cropped up—there was no necessity to help Mr. Radmall; he had his information and his assessors, and means of acquiring information, and far better means than I had—he did not want any other information—Barnard's last call on me was on 13th February—the last time you called was on 31st December—Mr. Marks saw you then—I first knew of the warrant being out for Barnard one or two days before the 13th February—I did not tell him there was a warrant out for his arrest when I saw him—I swear the amount of the original claim you brought was not £540 3s.; it was above the amount that was sent in—I did not say we must put on a bit for knocking off, we never do that—I did not alter the price of a picture from £15 to £25—I pointed out to you the extraordinary value you put on a picture, and the amount was reduced; I told you that Radmall would require information about the furniture—I did not find a name for the picture; I asked you if you knew whom it was by, and you told me some old master—I had never seen the picture; you described the picture, and I said, "Oh, yes, Virgin and Child"—there are fifty thousands of virgins and children painted; the title would not mean anything—I accepted your values—I did not add £115s. to a washing machine; you said it was on the hire system, and you had paid so much off—all the prices, I told you, would have to be verified, and invoices got—I did not double some of the original quantities; your claim was in excess of the amount that went in—I went through the whole claim with you—my commission was to be five per cent, on what was got,. and nothing more—this copy of list P of where you got the things from was made by my clerk—that does not suggest that I intended to send it in—I did it to keep full details of all the information you supplied me with—I did not tell you that the assessors looked on it as Barnard's fire and you as his tool—we knew nothing of Barnard at the early stages, and I did not know who you were—I have heard of Barnard for two years past, but I did not know anything of him—I knew nothing of the estrangement between you till you told me—the impression on my mind was that Barnard was a person who had made fraudulent claims; I knew that before the prisoner came to me—Barnard has had fourteen fires, five in King's Road, Chelsea—all his claims were settled by the companies—he called on me early in December, first, I think—he and you came to my office, and I saw you; you up to 31st December, and Barnard up to 13th February—you and he were always in and out of my office; the door was open, and you walked in—I could not over one way or the other; I was not attempting to settle the matter—you were giving me information, and I was informing the insurance company—you made an open confidant of me; you spoke, not only before me and my partner, but before the boy, and Montague Gregory—you laughed over that fire,
made an open boast of what you had done and what you intended to do in the future, and you showed policies in the Kent and the Westminster, and you said you had taken out a policy on your lodgings, in the Imperial, and I thought it was a matter of public policy that these matters should be investigated—the reason you made a confidant of me was because you thought you had done a very clever action, and that it was a very fine line of business; and you made a sort of boast of everything you had done—I think all the statements you made are true, and that they have been verified—I told you several times the company would never settle your claim—no doubt I received this telegram on 25th October—my clerk went to Tottenham; I do not know whether you accompanied him back—you knew from within a week of the claim going in that we could not settle the matter for you, and were not going to act for you—you told me the police were on the matter, and were making investigation down there—from that and our own suspicions, and information and statements made to us by others, and what we heard about the fire, we knew the matter would never be settled, and that we could never settle it for you, and would be no parties to the settlement—we did not withdraw because we found there was nothing to be got out of it; we told you we should not ask you for any money—if the matter had been settled we should have received our charges in the ordinary course—if we had found nothing was to be got out of it, it would have been a sufficient reason for us giving it up to some extent, without hearing any self-accusations and confessions—you were boasting of what you had done and what you intended to do—within about eight days after I had seen you we determined to have nothing more to do with the claim.
Re-examined. The claim was forwarded to Messrs. Radmall on 30th October—a week after that I had an interview with Mr. Radmall, when I made certain communications to him; I said the whole circumstances of the matter were fraught with suspicion, and that every investigation ought to be made—the claim was left for them to investigate, and remained with them up to 28th November—I saw him from time to time upon other matters, and spoke to him about this in a general way—his letter of 28th November, calling for particulars, I answered by the letter of 29th November, giving somewhat general particulars, and on 30th November he wrote asking for information as to where every article had been purchased—I saw Radmall on the matter specially on 4th December, and said that we should retire from the matter, and that we should give him notice to that effect—I said I had placed the letter of the 30th before the prisoner, and that he had given me this written statement as to where he had procured the property; that we knew the statement to be entirely false, and did not send it to him—this is a copy of that statement—I got it a day or two after the 29th—I had my copy of it at the date of the interview with Mr. Radmall, the original having been handed back to the prisoner and forwarded to Mr. Radmall on 30th October—the prisoner called on 1st and 3rd December, after the receipt of Mr. Radmall's letter of 30th November—it must have been on one of those dates that I gave him the original of this document P—after I had handed the original of P back to the prisoner I saw Mr. Radmall, and I told him that the prisoner's statements as to where he had acquired the property varied every time; that we could not answer the letter ourselves, as the information
given by the prisoner was incorrect, and we declined to send it in, as he had given false information—I did not show Mr. Radmall the copy; he never saw it—on 5th December, when the prisoner called with Barnard, this letter was written, and on 10th December we withdrew by letter—our first requisition from Mr. Radmall was on 28th November—I had heard of Barnard and these fires for two years past—I knew that his claims on insurance companies had been settled by the payment of large sums—there had been no charge made against him—the prisoner was arrested on 29th January—Barnard called on the 1st, 7th, and 13th February—I gave evidence on 15th February—I had not heard of the warrant for Barnard on 7th February, when he called; I heard of it two or three days before the 13th, when he came to inquire what was taking place at the Police-court—when he was at my office I sent a messenger in a cab to Bow Street Police-station—the messenger returned, and about half an hour afterwards two officers came to my office; but Barnard had then gone—that is the way in which the police knew of his visit to my office—I have not seen Barnard since then—we charge five per cent, on the amount we recover from the insurance office, and that covers disbursements and all expenses—it is the usual rate—we charge nothing if we recover nothing—I believe that is not the usual practice among insurance assessors; they make a charge in every case, I believe—the messenger I sent to Bow Street is not here; I can give his name, and I think he can be found in a very short time.
RICHARD OTTO MARKS . I am in partnership with Mr. Lewis—from the end of October throughout November I saw the prisoner on several occasions when he called—he first made a statement to us, in the hearing of each of us, with regard to the share he had in the Abbotsford Avenue fire about the middle of November—he said the furniture had been brought to Abbotsford Avenue, and specially disposed for the purpose of burning—the better class of furniture was placed in the upper room, and the inferior furniture in the lower rooms; the furniture in the lower rooms specially laid with regard to the necessary draught that a fire requires—then benzoline was thrown over it, and some curtains were placed on the top of the furniture; then it was fired by himself; that a man named Barnard was there at the time; that he had been told it was a difficult thing to burn down a private house, but that he had done this job too well; he had only intended the furniture in the lower rooms to be burnt, so that the surveyors would take the better class furniture, which was in the upper rooms, as a sample of what was supposed to be in the lower ones—he said he was standing at the back portion of the premises; that the fire was burning between him and the front door; that a man came in at the front door; that the prisoner had a pail of hot water, which he threw over the man, and he never saw him again; that he then threw the pail through one of the windows of the back room, in order to create a draught—he first stated that the greater portion of the furniture upon which he was claiming was left him by his mother, who had died—he afterwards said it had not been left by his mother, but belonged to Barnard; that he claimed for two pianos—I asked him where he got them from—he said one of them he had taken in satisfaction of a betting transaction from Mr. Gray, of Hampstead—I asked him if he could produce Mr. Gray, if
it were necessary; but he said he had gone to America—he said the other piano he had bought under the hammer at some auction rooms at Finsbury, I think—that information he gave us much earlier—early in December (it must have been after the 3rd December) he came to the office with Barnard—they said they had been to see Mr. Blaiberg with reference to a loan; that Mr. Blaiberg would lend them £150 if we would write a letter, saying that we had sent in a claim to the Guardian Fire Office for so much money; that there was no dispute; and that if we would do that they would give us £25—we refused to do it—between the prisoner's coming to us and Barnard's coming to us we had been making inquiries in regard to the prisoner, and we had received information with regard to him and Barnard—I knew my partner was in communication with Mr. Radmall, and he informed me from time to time as to the course he was pursuing in the matter—early in December we withdrew from the case, but we decided to do so before, and not to persevere with it.
Cross-examined. I have seen a copy of the evidence I gave at the Police-court—I said I was suspicious of you from the first; and I said, "When he made these statements to us I thought he did it thinking we would lend ourselves to his fraud; he informed me there was in Tottenham four water companies, and that this house was just in the middle of the four, so that when the fire broke out it would be the question whether the key of the right main would be forthcoming; when the engine arrived it brought the wrong key, and they had to send back for the right one, and consequently it was forty minutes before there was any water available for the fire"—I have seen Barnard several times since I have known you—part of the reason for his calling on us with you was in reference to borrowing money—he had represented that he had an interest in the claim; he said that if no money was recovered from the company he should lose £300 or £400—you never admitted your name was Walsh—I asked you once if it was, and you denied it—that was after we had withdrawn from the matter—you would not admit that you had lived at Walthamstow; you denied it—you told me where both pianos were supposed to come from—I never saw Mr. Radmall—I think the police officer in charge of the case was the first person to whom I said that you had said you had set fire to the house and all the things—I think I can tell you the date from the call-book—Mr. Lewis was present when I gave the statements—he gave his afterwards, I think—I think I was present when he made it to the police officer, and to the solicitor in charge of the case; at the same time, I believe it was—no statement of mine was taken down—I don't think I made any detailed statement of my evidence—the statements you made were not in your favour—about the middle of November you made the statements about the fire—before that you made a statement about the pianos—I think all your statements about the fire were made in Mr. Lewis's presence—I cannot assign any object you could have, or any benefit you could gain, by making such admissions—I should think you probably did it from boasting; you wished to boast how clever you had been in burning down a private house—the suggestion about writing to Blaiberg came from both you and Barnard, one after the other, at the same interview—we did write a letter to Mr. Blaiberg on 6th November—this is a copy of the letter. (This stated that at Mr. Warner's request they enclosed the cover note of the Guardian Insurance Company, etc.)—Barnard
had not been to the office then—I knew you went to Wardour Street to borrow money, and I knew that the letter would not help you in any way—that was the only letter we wrote to Blaiberg—I think T heard you mention Hollingsworth—you mentioned that Barnard had a bill of sale with Hollingsworth, and that part of the furniture that was burnt at Abbotsford Avenue was the property of Barnard, and had come from Hollingsworth—I could not fix the exact time when you told me that; I should think it would be at later interviews, but I cannot bind myself to the date—you told me Barnard had no interest in the goods—I cannot bind myself whether you mentioned about the bill of sale and Barnard in Lewis's presence, but as far as I remember you did not tell Lewis in my presence that some of the goods were Barnard's—I may have mentioned those things to Lewis; I cannot swear—I think you mentioned towards the latter part that Barnard had left Tottenham very suddenly, and had not let you know where he had gone—that would be after the 6th December—Barnard had had a good many fires—that sort of fires does not bring work to us—he had a bad reputation—I had a very strong opinion of him, but it was not a good one—I believe I said the company would sit still and force you to arbitration, and would never pay a penny—I should think at the beginning of December we said we refused to act for you any longer—we told you a few days before the letter of 10th December; it was on the 5th, I think—we told you it was perfectly useless for you to think you were ever going to get any money from the Guardian Fire Office—I was present when the letter of the 5th was written, so was Barnard—you brought two statements showing where you bought goods—we declined to send them in—I think the remark was made that they were useless; that they could trace nothing—I said, "It is perfectly useless to send in such a statement"—if they could trace anything it would be useful to them—I don't remember if Barnard was present when you brought the detailed statement showing where the goods came from—I did not hear Mr. Lewis say he would not trust his reputation to Barnard—I supplied you with a foolscap envelope for the purpose of sending this claim to Brown, Roberts and Radmall; that was immediately after or before we had withdrawn; I think it was after—I was present on 5th December, when you brought a letter which Mr. Lewis said would not do, and he partly dictated the letter that was sent on that date, and it was partly written at your suggestion—my recollection is, we were persuading you to withdraw from the claim, and eventually you took our advice and made up your mind to withdraw, and you brought with you that morning a letter which you thought would meet the case—the letter was written to us, not to the company—it was one way of withdrawing—Mr. Lewis showed it to the company's surveyor—we took it as a withdrawal of the claim—I cannot say whether Mr. Lewis showed it to Mr. Radmall that day or not—that letter was certainly not written with a view to try to bring about a monetary settlement—on the 10th we wrote to the surveyors, withdrawing from the claim—we practically decided to withdraw before the letter of the 5th—I am not satisfied that several things I allege you told me are untrue—I will not admit that the letter was written as a last resort to try and get the company to settle.
Re-examined. This document was brought before the second statement,
which was brought either immediately before or just after 5th December; just after, I think—we refused to send the first, and the prisoner, I understood, sent it himself—we gave it to him, and I think he had an envelope in which he put it—I fancy he asked for an envelope, and we gave him one for the purpose of putting the claim in it—we did not know what he was going to do with it—it was not stamped—the letter of 5th December, in which he says he is going away very soon, was not a last resort for putting an end to the claim—at that time we had definitely withdrawn from it—I had only heard of Barnard before he called at the end of December; I did not know him—I never acted for him—I had never acted for the prisoner before, or seen him before he came to the office.
(This letter stated that a situation in Somerset was offered to him, which he must accept at once, that he must give up his claim against the insurance company unless Mr. Woolf would advance him £20 or £30 till settlement, Mr. Woolf's solicitors to receive the cheque from the company, and pay him the balance after deducting Mr. Woolf's charges)—no money was lent to the prisoner on that application.
SAMUEL DAVIDS . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Lewis and Marks—in consequence of a telegram dated 25th October I went to 4, Abbotsford Avenue, Tottenham—on that day I saw the prisoner, and told him from whom I came—the interior of the house and all the furniture had been destroyed—I went over and just looked at it, and told the prisoner to forward a list of things for which he was about to make a claim—next day, or thereabouts, the prisoner called, and brought the list, which was placed before Mr. Lewis.
Cross-examined. You accompanied me back, and I paid your fare.
ROBERT GRAHAM COCHRANE . I am manager of the House Fire Department of the Guardian Insurance Company—in October, 1894, a claim was made against our office for £700 in respect of a fire on 24th October—in the ordinary course I handed that claim on to our assessors, Messrs. Brown, Roberts, and Radmall, finding from our agent that the cover, or provisional receipt, had been given to the assured on 23rd October—the effect of such a receipt is to bind the company provisionally until the matter is submitted to the head office, and dealt with in the way of being accepted or declined—the company is bound by the act of its agent till one or other of those two events takes place—the company, through its assessors, asked the prisoner for a detailed statement as to each item in the claim—this letter, dated December 17th, written by the prisoner, and purporting to forward a detailed list, with all particulars, was shown to me by Mr. Radmall, to whom it was addressed, and the statement appended to it. (In the list were two pianos, one stated to have been received, in settlement of a betting transaction, from T. Bennett, on October 10th, 1894, and the other to have been bought through an advertisement in a daily paper, about six months ago)—these two unsigned receipts (C and E) were not issued or authorised by the Guardian Office—these letters (A and D) were not written under the authority of the Guardian Office.
Cross-examined. Two letters were received from you while you have
been in prison, begging for mercy and pardon—I cannot say whether they were received before you were charged with arson, without having them before me—I believe our solicitors have them—the police were making inquiries directly after the fire—the operations were suspended; whether they were abandoned is another question—when we first took steps to prosecute, on January 4th, we hoped the case would develop in the direction of arson; we had the idea at a very early stage, but we had not sufficient evidence before us at the time—we have brought as much evidence as was at our disposal.
Re-examined. We have traced the prisoner's history back before 1890, and have traced his connection with other fires—I have the dates here.
EDWIN RADMALL . I am a member of the firm of Brown, Roberts and Radmall, assessors for fire losses, and, among others, to the Guardian Assurance Company—about October 30th I received the claim forwarded through Messrs. Lewis and Marks, amounting to over £700—in the ordinary course we should investigate a claim of that magnitude, and take some time for an investigation—that would be known to Messrs. Lewis—on November 10th, 1894, I had an interview with Mr. Lewis—that was the first time I had seen Mr. Lewis after the receipt of the claim—he then gave me certain information, knowing that I was the assessor to the Guardian Office—our investigation lasted till November 28th, and on that day I wrote to Lewis and Marks for further information, and I received this letter of November 29th in reply—I answered that on November 30th—on December 3rd I had an interview with Mr. Lewis, and he made a further statement to me—that was followed by a visit by him to me on or about December 6th, when he showed me a letter from the prisoner, and made a statement to me in regard to the case—on December 10th he wrote, retiring from the case, and I received on December 17th an explanation of where the articles were purchased, purporting to come from the prisoner himself—I afterwards saw two documents of January 2nd and 3rd, said to have been written by the prisoner. (These were written on the same sheet of paper, one was addressed to the prisoner's wife, and the other to the salvage officer. Mr. Guerrin stated that he had no doubt they were in the prisoner's writing. They related to taking over the salvage as the claim was abandoned)—after that this prosecution was started at the Police-court—on October 26th I went to Abbotsford Avenue—the prisoner was not there then—the same afternoon he called at my office in the Poultry and told me that on the evening of the tire he came home about 6.30; his wife let him in; he went through the passage into the kitchen, and she followed him; that as she came along the passage her dress caught a what-not, which was standing by the drawing-room door, and pulled it over; that on the what-not was a small brass benzoline lamp, which would cost about 7d., and would hold not more than two table-spoonsful of oil; that the oil fell on to some bedding, mats and carpets which were on the floor, and the place was all alight in a moment; that the flames went up the staircase, and he was unable to get out at the front door; that he got his wife and children out at the back, after breaking down the fence, and he got some things out of the kitchen into the yard—he said he came from Camden Villas, Romford, to Tottenham, and the furniture was removed in two pantechnicon vans—he told me he had had a fire at Camden Villas about six weeks previously—he was insured in the
Manchester Fire Office, and he also told me he had a fire in the Haslemere Road, Forest Gate, when ho was insured in the Westminster Office—I asked him if he had had any other fires than those two and the one at Tottenham—he said, "No; only those three"—I asked him why be increased his insurance in the Manchester Office from £600 to £700 in the Guardian—he said his mother had left him a lot of furniture, and that, of course, made a lot of difference in the value—I never saw the prisoner after that interview—these letters A and D are not written with my authority or signed by me, and they are not on our notepaper.
Cross-examined. When I visited the premises on 26th October, I left my card with the salvage man, instructing you to call on me—I had no means of judging whether the best furniture had been upstairs—I could not get upstairs; there was no ladder—that was the only occasion I saw you—I received a letter from Mr. Lewis on the 29th November, which I answered on 30th—you said you had not had time to unpack all your furniture; you had put some up in the bedrooms and done what you could—you told me there was a bill of sale on the goods, and I asked you to whom it was, and for how much, and you replied—I never told Mr. Lewis I would not settle unless you went to arbitration; I did not lead him to believe so—I did not think there was a large quantity of furniture in the house—neither Mr. Lewis nor Mr. Marks made any communication to me as to these alleged conversations of yours prior to their withdrawing from the matter—they never told me any of your conversations—in the claim two or three skin mats are claimed for.
EDWARD DAWSON . I am a clerk to Messrs. Brown, Roberts and Radmall—I have compared the original claim (H), which was forwarded through Messrs. Lewis, with the particulars of that claim sent by the prisoner in December to the assessors, and they agree—I have compared the description of articles in those particulars sent in December by the prisoner with the description of articles in the schedules of the two bills of sale, and they agree in numerous instances, not only as to the identity of the articles, but as to the identity of the description of the articles.
Cross-examined. I went through the debris at Tottenham to see what I could find—I did not find a fair amount of salvage, even considering the fire there had been—I could not say if there was enough to prove that there had been a large quantity of furniture on the premises—I could not say there had not been a large quantity of furniture—a very small portion of salvage was found; the greater part of what was found was in the front room ground floor—I noticed nothing in the upper rooms to lead me to suppose that the best had been put there—I only saw a very small pile of relics of clothing; it was too far gone to judge of its quality—I found portions of a few iron bedsteads.
ABRAHAM ABRAHAMS . I am a solicitor, and I act in that capacity for Mr. Blaiberg—on 2nd January Mr. Blaiberg and the prisoner came to my office, and there were produced to me these documents, D, E, and C, the covering receipt of the Guardian Office, the letter upon Brown, Roberts and Radmall's paper, and purporting to be signed by them, and the unsigned form of receipt, with a printed heading of the Guardian Fire Office, for a person to sign who was entitled to receive the sum of
£525 under it—I believed them to be genuine—the prisoner asked Mr. Blaiberg in my presence for an advance of £200 upon the deposit of those documents—the prisoner said he would accept from the Guardian Office the £525 mentioned in the letter of Brown, Roberts and Radmall, and would repay the advance as soon as he got that amount from the company—Mr. Blaiberg told him to leave the documents with me, that I might make inquiry—I suggested that he should come with me to the City to see Brown, Roberts and Radmall, and if it was all right he could have the money—he refused to do that then—I suggested he should come and even stay outside, but he refused absolutely—my suspicions were aroused—the documents were left with me, and I made inquiries—before the prisoner went away he asked for the documents back—I said, "No," the documents had better be left, because I could not make inquiries without them—ten or fifteen minutes after he had left the prisoner returned, and again requested that the documents should be handed back to him—I kept them, made inquiries, and afterwards produced them to the representatives of the Guardian.
Cross-examined. No one has suffered loss by those papers to my knowledge—I hardly think you could have gone to Hill's place, Oxford Street, and come back in ten minutes—I have been acting professionally in trying to recover money for Blaiberg from Barnard—I did not tell you Barnard had come into £8,000—you attempted to obtain £200 by forged documents from me on behalf of my client—you did not come to me as the lender—you went to Blaiberg, who brought you to me.
Re-examined. In the event of my inquiries being successful I should have the authority of my client to part with money and carry the whole matter through.
ALBERT THOMAS ODDY . I am a builder, at 3, Glenpark Road, Forest Gate—I own 11, Haslemere Road—in April, last year, it was to let, and on April 25th the prisoner came with Barnard and wanted to take the house—I asked for references, and he gave me Barnard—I accepted him—the prisoner moved in on the same day, as far as I know—on June 11th, about 6.30 p.m., I was down the road, and I saw smoke issuing from the front of the house—I went to it; by the time I got there the front door had been forced open—I went into the hall—I could not get into the back room on the ground floor, because it was all on fire—the prisoner was standing on the staircase, looking at the fire, doing nothing to put it out—I called my men, and moved all the furniture out of the front room—I and my men did what they could to put the fire out in the back room—within a short time the firemen came and extinguished the fire; we had extinguished it chiefly at the time they got there—I afterwards went over the house to see what damage had been done—the fire was confined to the back room and the conservatory; the door was burnt entirely, and the fire had come into the hall and scorched the paper off the walls—no damage was done to the front room or upstairs—I should have thought that about £20 worth of furniture was burnt at the outside—the next day the prisoner said, "I think it was the lamp burst," an oil lamp of some kind—it was quite light when I first saw the fire—Barnard
at that time was living almost opposite the prisoner, at No. 4, Haslemere Road, I think.
Cross-examined. I said at the Police-court I saw picture frames and other things that had not been in the room on that night packed in the room, and they showed signs of fire—I think I asked you how you came to have a lamp in that room so early in the evening, and you said it had not burnt well the day previous—you might have said you were cleaning it; I don't know about repairing it—I do not know that your face was injured; you could see plainly enough; you knew me.
KATE GOODING . I live at 12, Haslemere Road, opposite No. 11—I knew the prisoner and his wife and family as living at No. 11, opposite to me, in June, 1894—on 11th June I saw the wife and children leave No. 11 in the middle of the day—after that I saw the prisoner at No. 11, looking out of the house—between six and seven p.m. the fire broke out—just before that I saw the prisoner at his door, looking out—I saw no one else there then.
Cross-examined. There would be nothing unusual in seeing a man's wife and children go out at one p.m.—I did not see them come back.
GEORGE HEBDEN ROBERTS . I am a member of the firm of Topliss and Roberts, fire assessors—we act for the Westminster among other offices—on 12th June I went to 11, Haslemere Road—I saw the prisoner there—he said the fire was caused by the explosion of a lamp which he was trimming—I asked him if he had been insured before that time, and he aaid he had not—I again went to the premises to see the damage done—in the back room ground floor I saw the remains of some wearing apparel and furniture—I asked him to send in the claim to me, and in the course of two or three days I received this claim for £186 11s. 2d.—I went on 22nd and 26th June, and thoroughly examined the debris—I could not find any such quantity of articles as the prisoner had claimed for as having been destroyed—I reported to the Westminster Insurance Company, and afterwards the claim was settled by the payment of £75, the prisoner giving this receipt to the office, and this is the memorandum agreeing to accept £75.
Cross-examined. I must say I had some doubt about the cause of the fire, because I asked you several times about it, and you did not explain to my satisfaction the cause of the fire—I did not recommend the company in my report to cancel the policy; it rests with them—it is usual to pay the full amount claimed—I could not say that the percentage of claims where we pay the full amount is very small—I left a salvage man at the premises till the claim was settled—if he did his duty you could not have put picture frames, and clothes, and other things in the middle of the room—in a fair case we pay for more things than we see the actual remains of—we want to see the remains of most.
ROBERT PALMER EDKINS . I am employed at the Westminster Fire Office, King Street, Covent Garden—on 9th May I received this letter, asking me to insure the writer as to the contents of 11, Hasleraere Road, Forest Gate—I sent a proposal form to be filled up, and in a day or so it was brought back filled up for £500, £400 on furniture and property in trust—there is a statement that the proposer had not made a claim for loss by fire on any insurance company—after 11th June a claim was made for £186 11s. 2d.—we instructed Messrs. Topliss and Roberts to investigate
the claim, and on 12th July we paid £75 in settlement—in that case the policy wan not issued until after the fire had occurred—about 20th May I received this letter from Mr. Barnard, inquiring the terms of insurance—we answered that, and about 21st June we received this letter, purporting to come from Mrs. Maisey, 4, Haslemere Road, asking for insurance—this is a letter we received from Barnard, Oak Villas, Brentwood, asking us to insure furniture there for £700.
Cross-examined. Nothing was claimed in respect of the goods in trust.
Re-examined. There was no endorsement on the prisoner's policy, showing the goods had been removed from 11, Haslemere Road—without a notification of the removal of the goods from one address to another the policy would not have been effective—this policy covers the goods at 11, Haslemere Road, and nowhere else—if we had notice of it, it would be within our right to accept the removal or not.
JAMES CAUSTON . I am the owner of 147, Barclay Road, Walthamstow—in March, 1893, I let that house to the prisoner—he opened it as a tobacco, sweet, and newspaper shop—he remained there a little more than twelve months—in July, 1893, I heard there had been a fire on the premises—on 17th July I went to look at the premises after the fire with the surveyor, and saw that the fire had broken out right underneath the window board of the shop in front—I asked the prisoner how it occurred—he said he had closed his shop, and was standing outside, and all at once he found the window was in a blaze.
Cross-examined. I believe we had references—the builder went after them—the premises were hardly completed, and you did not pay any rent till March—you may have moved in in January—rent, rates, and taxes were paid up when you left.
ALFRED ARTHUR MANN . I am a potman employed at the Lord Raglan, 67, Barclay Road—in July, 1893, between eight and nine, I saw a fire at the prisoner's tobacco shop—I went in there—the fire was under the counter and under the window—I saw the prisoner coming from behind the counter with an ordinary gallon oil can in his hand—a man named Lloyd was there—he said to the prisoner, "Good God! man, come out with that can," and then the prisoner pushed him to the door and said, "Get out of my shop," and pushed him out of the door, and knocked him down on the pavement—I and neighbours put the fire out—we pulled down the match-boarding from underneath the window and found there match-boxes, with coloured lights, and waste paper and cardboard boxes all alight.
Cross-examined. I did not hear Lloyd make an insulting remark to you, nor did I hear anyone say it served him right.
JOHN LLOYD . I live at 10, Raglan Place, Walthamstow—on 17th July, 1893, I was looking out of a window opposite the prisoner's shop—the name over his shop was Walsh—I saw flames coming from his shop; I ran with all my might, and went into the shop—the prisoner was there with a gallon paraffin can in his hand, with the cork out—he was making his way from where the flames were, underneath the window, towards the pavement—I said, "For God's sake, man, take that paraffin can away—he murmured something and put his arm under my chin and tripped me up, and I fell on the threshold on my back, partly in and partly out of the shop—the potman was there—assistance was rendered, and the fire was put out.
Cross-examined. I did not use any insulting expression to you—I did not hear several people say it served me right—the fire was not out when I got there—it was out when the fire brigade got there.
GEORGE HOOPER HARNETT . I am cashier at the branch office of the Union Fire Office, at 55, Charing Cross—on 2nd June, 1893, this policy was issued to Alfred Walsh, of 167, Barclay Road, Walthamatow, insuring the furniture and contents there for £200—about 17th July, I received this claim for £69 14s.—it was referred to our assessors, Messrs. Rouch and Co., and settled for £40, with the condition that the policy should be cancelled.
Cross-examined. It is not a small percentage of claims that are paid in full; we often pay the full claim—at times we do not.
THOMAS TOLWORTHY . I am an electrician living at West Ham—about 8 p.m., on 13th March, 1891, I was passing 2, Fern Villas, and seeing some smoke issuing from the open door, I went in and found in a back room on the ground floor a fire burning fiercely—the furniture in the room was not expensive; I should describe it as a working man's home—the fire was confined to that room—with the assistance of others, I put it out—I knew the prisoner as occupying that house—he arrived there just after the fire; he was very unconcerned.
Cross-examined. Neither you nor any of your family were there when I found the fire—you used to go away to business in the morning.
WALTER SHARP . I am a clerk in the Hand-in-Hand Insurance Office, 22, Bridge Street—the prisoner was insured in that office in respect of 2, Fern Villas, Home Road, East Ham, for £150, in the name of A. Walsh—on 19th November, 1890, he made a claim in respect of a fire there for £14 16s. 6d., which was settled by the payment to him of £12 16s. 6d. on 19th November, 1890—he gave this receipt—he made another claim for £93 16s. 3d. in respect of the same premises for a fire there on 13th March, 1891—that was nettled by the payment of £70—he gave this receipt—we declined to renew the policy.
JOHN RILE . I am chief of the Fire Loss Department of the North British and Mercantile Fire Assurance Company, Threadneedle Street—in the name of Walsh, the prisoner insured in our office his furniture at 2, Fern Villas, Home Road, East Ham, for £150—on 31st January, 1892, we received this claim for £16 14s. 8d. for injury by fire—that was settled by a payment of £9, for which we have this receipt—on 12th October, 1892, he made another claim for £22 3s. in respect of the same premises, for a fire said to have occurred on or about 10th October, 1892—that was settled by the payment of £16 on 29th October, 1892, for which the prisoner gave this receipt in the name of Walsh—the name of the house was altered then to 32, Home Road; it was always the same house—after the occurrence of the second fire the assurance was marked in the books of the company as not to be renewed.
Cross-examined. There are a large number of cases in which we do not pay the amount claimed.
JOHN WILLIAMSON (Inspector, C.I.D.). On 29th January I saw the prisoner in Liverpool Street about noon—I asked him if he was waiting for Mr. Barnard—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Your name is Warner Walsh"—he said, "Yes, that is true"—I told him I was a police officer, and held a warrant for his arrest for attempting to obtain £200 by false
pretences from the Union Deposit Bank, Charing Cross—he said, "Barnard has done this for me; he has put me away. It was through his instigation I did it. I must suffer and go through it"—I told him another case of attempting to obtain £200 from a gentleman in Wardour Street, would be preferred against him, and no doubt the case of forgery—at the station he was charged with attempting to obtain £200 by false pretences from the Union Deposit Bank—he made no reply—a postcard from Barnard and one or two of Barnard's cards were found on him.
Cross-examined. I have no doubt you were greatly surprised when I arrested you—you wrote two letters, giving me information as to Barnard's where abouts—I had already told you I was in possession of that information—you showed me an advertisement of yours for work—I did not find on you papers showing you had got employment—I have knowledge of a cheque presented by you at Romford and dishonoured by Barnard—I did not mention the charge of arson to you when I arrested you, or at any other time.
Re-examined. Every effort has been made to arrest Barnard, but he has succeeded in escaping so far.
The prisoner produced a written defence, asserting his innocence and stating that the fires were accidental.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. The COURT commended the conduct of Inspector Williamson in this case.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, March 30th, and Monday, April 1st, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
334. HENRY JOHN CLARKE (45), and ELLEN LYON, alias WATSON , (30) were indicted for unlawfully conspiring by false representations to procure Gertrude Alexandra Barrett, not being a common prostitute, to have carnal connection with Charles Wilson. Other Counts, varying the form of charge.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
MR. GEOGHEGAN appeared for Clarke, and MR. PAUL TAYLOR for Lyon.
Before plea MR. GEOGHEGAN applied to quash certain counts of the indictment (viz., the first, second, fourth and sixth) framed under the Criminal Law Amendment Act, upon which there had been no commitment by the Magistrate for the specific offence contained in the indictment. The commitment was for attempting to commit the principal act, not the actual commission, no leave of a Judge had been given that a count for that full offence should be added, nor were the false pretences alleged in the indictment negatived, as was decided to be necessary by the case of Reg. v. Perrott in 1814 (see Lee and Cave). The mere statement in the indictment that such false pretences were made would not be a sufficient negation of their truth, and therefore upon these grounds he submitted the counts were bad. MR. TAYLOR also urged that the first and second counts must be quashed, as the conditions of the Vexatious Indictments Act had not been complied with; he called attention to the interpretation that must be put upon Section 1 of the Act amending the Vexatious Indictments Act, and to a decision in the case of Reg. v. Ross and Watson, where the indictment was quashed, leave not having been obtained for the added count. He also referred
to Reg. v. Fuidge (Lee and Cave), in which there was no committa upon the subject-matter contained in the disputed count.
MR. JUSTICE COLLINS. "That left a gap which was cured by the later Act. If you want to put in something that is not in the depositions, you must first get the consent of the COURT. Here, such consent not having been obtained, there are two conditions—first, that the counts must be properly joined, and, second, that the facts contained in the particular count are founded upon the depositions."
MR. TAYLOR contended that the consent of the COURT must in every case be obtained before a fresh count can be presented to the Grand Jury. (See Reg. v, Brown, Q.B. Reports). His point was this; Even if the subject-matter of the new count was contained in the depositions, the consent of the COURT must be given.
MR. AVORY contended that it had been the practice of the COURT that, where counts were added founded upon facts contained in the depositions, it was not necessary to obtain the consent of the Judge before the indictment was sent to the Grand Jury; the opinion of the Judge must be expressed when the objection was taken, and then it must be shown that the counts were properly joined. As to the negation of the false pretences, he contended that the allegation of them was sufficient. MR. GEOGHEGAN and MR. PAUL TAYLOR were heard in reply.
MR. JUSTICE COLLINS. "I think both objections have failed. First of all, with regard to the objection upon the Vexatious Indictments Act, it is hardly necessary to add anything to the suggestions I made during the argument. Convenience is obviously in favour of the contention of the Prosecution, and the words of the Act do not oblige me to take a different view. The clear effect of the earlier Act was to prevent the preferring indictments framed upon something for which the prisoner was not committed, whether the facts relating thereto did or did not appear upon the depositions, without the written consent given of a Judge of the High Court. That was found to be a great practical inconvenience so far as it excluded counts based on matters which appeared in the depositions, and of which, therefore, the prisoner had ample notice. The amending Act met this difficulty and made it lawful to add new counts, provided they were such as could be lawfully joined with the rest of the Bill, and provided they were, in the opinion of the presiding Judge, founded on facts disclosed upon the depositions. But in my judgment it was no more necessary to obtain the opinion of the Judge before hand on the one point than on the other. He must decide if the point be raised whether a count was properly joined, and he must decide if the point be raised whether it is founded upon facts disclosed in the depositions; but I do not see why his opinion is a condition precedent in the one case any more than in the others. The concluding clause of thie section makes this still clearer by reserving a general power of presenting any Bill, with the consent of the COURT. I agree, therefore, with the view of the learned RECORDER. I hold that the count impugned is founded on facts stated in the depositions Then as to the point that the truth of the pretences is not negatived by a separate specific averment. The pretences are stated to be false, and they are specifically set out, and nothing but the clearest authority could induce me to give effect to such a piece of technicality as to require a further averment negativing the truth of that which is already stated to be false, I think I
am not bound to extend the decision of Reg. v. Perrott to a statutory offence such as this."
ERNEST WALTER GREENWOOD . I am a member of the firm of Messrs. Greenwood, of 12, Serjeants' Inn—we acted as solicitors for Mrs. Barrett in the Divorce Court, in which she sued for a judicial separation—she first consulted me early in February, 1892—I sent her to Slater's in order to get evidence as to the allegations of cruelty—she was served with a citation in the cross petition of her husband; that was on the 20th April, 1892—at our office she made a communication to me with reference to Mrs. Watson and a man named Wilson; that was in reference to the allegations in the cross petition.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. We employed Messrs. Slater on behalf of Mrs. Barrett—they are inquiry agents; they employ persons to go about and make inquiries—I think the inquiries were made by a man named Hamilton, not by Slater himself.
HERBERT GEORGE MUSKETT . I am a partner in the firm of Messrs. Wontner and Sons, Ludgate Hill—I acted as solicitor for Mr. Barrett in the divorce proceedings—I believe Messrs. Lewis and Lewis had previously acted for him—it was transferred to us on 4th April, 1892—we received from Mr. Barrett certain reports, purporting to be made by H. J. Clarke, private detective; these are them (Produced)—there are four reports; the first is from the 9th to the 21st of March, the second from 22nd to 29th March, the third is dated 31st March, and the fourth dated 1st April—three of them are signed H. J. Clarke, the other seems to be in the same handwriting as the third and fourth, as far as I can judge—I knew Clarke at that time as a private inquiry agent, and I knew that he had been employed in this suit before—on April 25th I prepared an affidavit, which was sworn to by Clarke—that affidavit, with others, was filed in Court for the purpose of dispensing with the service of the citation on the co-respondent—it was sworn to by Clarke and signed by him—I never saw him write the signature to this other affidavit—it seems to be the same as the signature to the reports.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I understand that the reports furnished to me by Clarke were partly from his own personal observation, and partly from what was furnished to him by others—Mr. Justice Barnes found as a matter of fact that Mrs. Barrett had committed adultery—the allegation of cruelty against the husband was dismissed—Mr. Justice Barnes found that Mrs. Barrett had committed adultery; her counter allegation that her husband had been guilty of cruelty was dismissed.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I was present at the whole of the trial—particulars were delivered stating the acts of cruelty—I heard the husband deny them in her presence—the finding of the Judge was against Mrs. Barrett on all the allegations of cruelty—the two prisoners were in Court at the trial; Clarke gave evidence, and, I think, Lyon was present; I was absolutely in the hands of Counsel, and he did not call them.
Re-examined. Both petitions were dismissed on, I think, the ground of connivance of the husband by his agent—Mr. Lockwood, who conducted the case, declined to put Lyon into the witness-box.
HENRY BRISCOE . I am a clerk in the Divorce Registry, Somerset House—I produce the papers in the divorce suit of Gertrude Alexandrt Barrett v. Edward Barrett, filed on February 15th, 1892, alleging various acts of cruelty against him, also the counter petition of the husband,
dated April 14th, 1892, alleging adultery on the part of the wife on March 20th, 1892, at Wellington Lodge, St. John's Wood, with a man whose name was unknown to the petitioner, but to whom Mrs. Barrett gave the name of Wilson—I also produce an affidavit, sworn before Mr. Marshall, of Henry John Clarke—those petitions were tried before Mr. Justice Barnes, in the Divorce Court, on August 8th, 9th, and 10th, 1892, and were both dismissed—there is an order for alimony, dated March 18th, 1892, of £44 a year to be paid to the wife.
JOHN CONQUEST (Police Inspector). I was present at Bow Street when Frederick Rolt was examined, in the prisoners' presence—they had the opportunity of cross-examining him.—(Read: "FREDERICK ROLT: I am a solicitor, of St. Paul's Chambers, Ludgate Hill, and a Commissioner for Oaths; the affidavit produced of Henry John Clarke was sworn before me on 26th April, 1892; the person who swore it swore that the name to it was his name and handwriting.")
GERTRUDE ALEXANDRA BARRETT . I was 22 years old on September 6th last—on June 1st, 1891, I was married to John Edward Barrett, at St. Pancraa Church, London—I met him in India, where he was employed in the Civil Service—up to that time I had lived most of my life in India—I had a disagreement with my husband five weeks after our marriage, in consequence of which I left him for a time—I left him on August 2nd, and went to Paris—he followed me, and persuaded me to return, and I forgave him—I lived with him for a short time at Hastings, and afterwards at St. George Road, Pimlico, and I finally left him on February 15th, 1892, as he wanted his sister to come out and live with us in India—I would not agree to it, and he struck me—having left him, I went first to reside at a boarding house, 32, Foxton Road, Earl's Court—I then instructed Messrs. Greenwood to take proceedings for a judicial separation—I had been an orphan for a number of years, and had no friends in London—I was a perfect stranger—soon after I arrived at Foxton Road a person who called herself Countess Carina came to live there; she went exactly opposite first, and stayed there two days—she immediately sought my acquaintance, and I received a great deal of attention and sympathy from her during the two days she was there—I told her I was going to move, and gave her my proposed address—I moved on March 7th to 166, Earl's Court Road, and a person calling herself Watson came there as a boarder, the prisoner Lyon—she made my acquaintance almost immediately; she said that her husband was an electrical engineer, and was away a great deal, and she had a lonely life, having no children, and was seeking for a young companion—she told me all her troubles, and I told her mine, and she asked if I would be her companion—I had no means of living then except the prospect of getting alimony, but I afterwards got an order for £44 a year pending the suit—I told her I would think over the matter; I finally accepted it next day, or two days after—on March 14th I went out with her to look at some rooms which she had engaged, and met my husband in the street near Victoria Station—I pointed him out to her, and to avoid him I went
into a stationer's shop; she said she would follow him and see where he went, and bring back evidence against him if he went anywhere where he ought not—she left me, and I went back to Earl's Court Road—she came back late—I was asleep in my room, and she woke me and told me she had followed him all day long on top of an omnibus, and he enjoyed her conversation very much, and he had gone to Bedford, and she knew him to be what I represented, because he winked and blinked at her all the time—I think she was at Earl's Court Road for a week—I was on intimate terms with her—she was very friendly—she used to be out all day long and come home late, when I was asleep, and she would come into my room and wake me up to give me news of herself and family—on March 15th she said she would stay a little time in town, and took me to see rooms which she had engaged, but the woman said she would not let them, and then she took me to 30, Denbigh Street—she left on the 15th, and on the 17th I received a telegram from her and went straight to 30, Denbigh Street—I arrived there half an hour before her, and we took up our quarters together there—she said that we both had bad husbands, but Mr. Barrett was the worst of the two—she said, "Let us go to some place of amusement," that the Empire was very good, and she made me change my dress and put on a smarter one, and did my hair up—she paid 5s. each for the tickets; she borrowed the money of me—I had never been there before—when we got there she borrowed another 10s. for champagne, and we had it together—we went into the 5s. seats, and she said she would look round and see if any of her friends were present, as when she was hard up she was always sure to get a £5 note out of them, and advised me to do the same, and said she would introduce me to her friends—she left me, and went and looked round, and brought the prisoner Clarke, and introduced him as Mr. Stephens, of the Stock Exchange—he asked me how I liked the performance, and after a little while he asked me to go with him to a private hotel—he did not say what for "—I said no, I would not go—he then asked me to go to supper with him at the Cafe" Monaco, and said that Mrs. Watson would come also if I did—we all three went there and had supper, for which Clarke paid—we had more champagne—he drove us home in a cab to Denbigh Street, and kissed the female prisoner and wished her good-night, and wanted to kiss me, but I declined—I went to other places of entertainment with her two or three times—she took me to the Alhambra about a week after, March 17th, and introduced me to two men there, and suggested that if I went to a private hotel with one she would go with the other—she gave me their names—I declined to go—after that we went to the Empire again on March 23rd or 24th—the visit to the Alhambra was between the two visits to the Empire—we took 3s. seats at the Empire—as we went in I noticed a man behind me; she pointed him out as the son of Mr. Charles Wilson, M.P., and said he was the only rich man there—she left me to see if any of her friends were there, and this man then came up and spoke to me, and while he was talking she came back and said, "This is Mr. Charles Wilson"—he said, "Yes"—she said, "I know your brother well; how is he?"—he said, "Yes, I have often seen you with him," and he pressed me to go to a private hotel; Rupert's Hotel—she left me, and he pressed me again to go to an hotel—I refused,
and then he pressed me to go to supper at the Cafe Monico—I went with him and left her behind at the Empire—she was not present when I arranged to go there with him—she was in sight, but I do not think she could hear what I said to him—he asked me at supper if I knew his brother—I said, "No"—he said, "It is very strange," and asked me if I knew Lord Wolesley and Lord Kiinberley; I said, "No"—he was greatly surprised—he said that he had a yacht, and that his father lived in Grosvenor Gardens and in Yorkshire, that he had taken a fancy to me, and wanted me to receive letters from him, under cover to Mrs. Watson—before we finished supper he pressed me very much to meet him next day at Hyde Park Corner—when we left the cafe after supper I found the female prisoner waiting outside to take me home—she and I went home together—she said that Wilson was a very rich man, and advised me to meet him, and asked me to receive letters from him—I am quite sure I did not tell her that he proposed writing—she said, "Have them addressed to me, and I will give them to you"—on the following day, the 25th, I met Wilson at Hyde Park Corner, and he persuaded me to go and look at some rooms, as he wanted me to go with him somewhere for a week—we drove in a cab to 19, Wellington Road, St. John's Wood—I went into the passage, and he went up and spoke to the landlady, and when he came down he said to her, "I had better pay for the rooms; here is my card;" but I cannot say whether he gave her his card—I think he said that she was to expect us on Monday; this was Friday, March 25th—I returned home to Denbigh Street, saw Lyons, and told her I was going with Wilson—she seemed very pleased, and said, "That is right, make the most of your chance, at money will be of use to you"—she said that she was going away for two days—when I left Wilson on Friday, he asked me to meet him on Monday at Hyde Park Corner at 1.30—Lyons was away on the Saturday and Sunday—she returned on the Monday morning, and I said that I had altered my mind, and did not think I ought to go away with Wilson—she called me a fool, and said that I ought not to lose such a good chance—she was very angry with me—I went to Hyde Park Corner that day to tell Wilson I could not go—I got there at 1.15, a quarter of an hour before the appointment, and saw Lyons shaking hands with Wilson—she saw me, but made no sign of recognition, and looked cross and angry—I told Wilson that the risk was too great, as I was a married woman—he said that my husband would know nothing about it—I took no luggage with me—we arrived at Wellington Road before two in the afternoon; I went to the rooms he had taken, a sitting-room and a bedroom—in the course of conversation I told him that I had no night-dress, and I went out to get one—we did not dine in the rooms that night—he asked me if I was going to a theatre that evening, and I found out when I got there that it was a music hall, the Metropolitan, in Edgware Road—he said it was a theatre that he was going to take me to—he had several drinks there; he went and ordered the drinks, I think—after the music hall, he took me to supper at some place, and had more drink there; I don't remember where it was; it was somewhere near by—we then walked a little way; first he went and got some more drink, and then we drove in a cab to Wellington Road; it was close on twelve o'clock when we got there—he was then very intoxicated—I
did not say anything to him—he pulled his coat off and lay on the couch, and soon fell off to sleep—that was before I went to bed—I brought a blanket and put over him, and left him there for the night; he remained there all night—I went to bed in the adjoining room—next morning we heard the landlady come up—I had got out of bed to ring for hot water, and he came running in with his coat and blanket, into my bedroom; there are folding doors—the landlady came to the door; I put my head out at the door, and asked her to get me some hot water—I opened the door just sufficient to get my head through—I was in my night-dress—Wilson was then in the bedroom, right at the back of me—when the landlady brought the hot water he was still in the room—I had breakfast with him that morning, and went out with him—he left me at Charing Cross, and arranged to meet me at five at St. John's Wood Station and wait, as it was necessary for us to go into the lodging together—I went to the station at five; he was not there, and I went on alone to Wellington Road—he came home at seven very intoxicated—I can't say whether dinner had been ordered that evening, I had not ordered any—I asked him to tell me how to get home—I told him I was so disgusted with him—he said I had agreed to stop a week, and unless I fulfilled my promise he could not keep his, and he said, "Go in the yard," and so on, and he grew angry and snatched my purse, which contained a sovereign, and he hid my hat and night dress to prevent my leaving—I rang for the landlady to help me to find them—she and her daughter came up and helped me to look for them—they were both found in the coal scuttle—I did not find my purse—I have never had it since, or the sovereign that was in it—I had some few loose pence, and I found my way home with them—I went downstairs and asked the landlady for some brown paper to fold my night-dress in, and I left the house, leaving him behind, between eight and nine, and I went back to Denbigh Street—Lyon was there when I arrived—I told her what had happened, and I upbraided her for introducing such a man as Wilson to me—she only laughed, and said it was experience gained—she then said she had heard from her husband, that he contemplated returning to England, and she would have to give up her rooms in Denbigh Street, and go to meet him—I had not heard a word of this before I went away on the Monday morning—she said she was going to give up her rooms, but she would see me safely in new lodgings, and she would then come back to live there with me for a few days, and then we should go and stop for good at her new house at Tooting—she arranged to meet me at the new lodgings on the following Saturday or Monday—on the 1st or 2nd of April she took me to 113, Buckingham Palace Road, and left me there to meet her husband, as she said—she never came back—I never saw her again until she was in custody in the following July—she was arrested on a charge of stealing some jewellery of mine, and also a pawnticket—I stayed at Buckingham Palace Road about a week or ten days—I then fell ill—I had been ill previously, but I got worse then, and I went to St. George's Hospital—I remained there ten days—it was on leaving the hospital that I called at the pawnbroker's, and found that the ring that I had pledged had been redeemed by somebody—in consequence of that, on 24th May I obtained a warrant for her arrest for stealing the pawnticket and the ring—she had had the pawntickets to take care of
for me—on leaving the hospital I went to live at 296, Vauxhall Bridge Road—while I wan living there a woman came to see me, a Countess Carina; the same woman that had been to see me in Oxford Road—I remember meeting my husband near the hospital once before I received the citation from the Divorce Court—I think in that citation I was accused of having committed adultery—I did not commit adultery with Wilson on 28th March; he never attempted any familiarity with me—I stayed at Vauxhall Bridge Road up to the time of the proceedings in the Divorce Court, and long after that—I stayed there till March, 1893—my alimony had ceased then, and I wag selling everything I had, jewellery and other things—I then threw myself on the parish, because I had nothing to live on—I went into the workhouse—ultimately I went into the hospital to qualify as a nurse, and that was the way I got my living, as a private nurse—I afterwards met Wilson, just before the divorce proceedings, near Victoria Station, by accident—I spoke to him; he asked me what had Income of Mrs. Watson—I said I did not know where she had gone—he asked if I knew who she was, and then I asked him if he had received a citation from the Divorce Court—he said, "No"—why did I want to know? if I wanted to know anything I was to meet him on Wednesday at Charing Cross Station at five o'clock, and he would let me know then all I wanted to know—I told this to my solicitors, and they advised me to meet him—I went to meet him there, but he never turned up—a week or two after seeing Wilson, a man they called Broomfield came up and spoke to me; he was a perfect stranger—I was walking near Victoria; I had a letter that I wanted to post—he said, "May I post that for you?"—after that I met him again—I reported this to my solicitors—this was before the divorce proceedings—I noticed something peculiar about Broomfield; he wore the identical hat that Wilson had worn—I remembered the hat because of a peculiar tear it had on one side—it was a tall hat, a silk hat—I told my solicitors of this—on 31st May, 1892, I was out with Police Sergeant Edwards, who then had charge of the warrant against Mrs. Lyon for stealing my ring—I went with Edwards to Victoria Station and there saw Allen, the landlord of 30, Denbigh Street, where I had lived; he was a ticket collector at the station; he was talking to the prisoner Clarke—Edwards went up and spoke to him—I asked Allen who that man was, and he said, "Why Clarke, the detective"—I said to Clarke, "I recognise you quite well; it is Mr. Stevens, of the Stock Exchange, who wanted me to go to a private hotel"—he said nothing to that—I said, "What has become of your female detective?"—he said, "I keep no such things"—I was present at the Divorce Court when this suit was tried in August 1892—while there I saw the two prisoners in the Court, and pointed them out in the course of my evidence—in substance I gave the history of this transaction, which I have given to-day; they were not called as witnesses—this is an affidavit of Clarke's. (This was read. It professed to give an account of his leaving watched the witness on various occasions, on instructions received from her husband, and seeing her accosting gentlemen in the streets and various places of amusement.)—I have never done such a thing—I did not on 24th of March accost a gentleman at the Empire Theatre—with the exception
of what I have stated to-day I have never spoken to any man in the way suggested—I never accosted any but the men Lyon introduced to me—on 25th March I did not accost a man outside the Prince of Wales Theatre or go to the theatre with him, nor was the gentleman very lame and walking with a stick—there is no truth whatever in that; none of her friends were lame, they were all right.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. My husband was in the Woods and Forests Department in India—we met in society before I was engaged—I was companion to a lady at Lahore—I mixed in society among the Europeans there—Mrs. Hawkes, my sister-in-law, was a widow with three children—I came home with her; I don't know that I was under her charge; I came home with her—we travelled together—my husband told me that she was coming to England to have her three children educated—she ultimately went to Bedford for that purpose—when my husband was in England he was on half-pay—he wanted his sister to live with us after our marriage—he always wanted the three of us to live together, not at Bedford, in India, and in England, at Bedford—I was in England when I was a child, but never in London—I did not go to the theatres—I went to a theatre once before I was married, with Mrs. Hawkes and my husband—I went to Paris on the 2nd August—I remained there six weeks, I think, I am not quite sure, away from my husband—my address was then unknown to him; it was known to my solicitor—I had a little money with me—I was at some private lodgings, not at an hotel—I did not know any persons in Paris before I went there; my solicitor, Mr. Simpson, recommended me to them—Mr. Simpson first acted for me as my solicitor, then Messrs. Greenwood—before my marriage I stopped three or four months with my sister-in-law; we did not pull well together, I never cared for her—when my husband came over it was only on leave, not permanently; only for a year I think—I did not object to going back to India; I did not want his sister to come out with me; he wanted her to come out—I cannot remember when His leave was out, but it was in a year's time—I did not want to have his sister out—I did not care whether I went with him or followed him—it was not my wish to return with him; I did not care—I told him I would follow him in the autumn—Mr. Wilson struck me as a gentleman—he had a good appearance and good manners; he spoke like an educated man—I saw nothing caddish about him till he snatched my purse—I made an allegation against my husband that he had struck me repeatedly in the face; he was cruel to me several times—I have alleged that Mrs. Hawkes encouraged him and said, "Give it her, Jack"—she incited him, she was all for him; that was because I did not wish to live with her—my husband had private means—Clarke struck me as a gentleman when he was introduced as Mr. Stevens of the Stock Exchange—the other two persons struck me as in the same rank of society; they spoke very well—when Mrs. Lyon told me if she was hard up she would borrow £5 of her friends, she was walking round in the Empire—I understood her to mean her men friends—that did not convey to my mind any idea as to the character of the woman I was with; I believed in her—I did not know the Empire till she took me there—I had no idea of anything improper going on with these men till Clarke suggested going to a private hotel in Rupert Street—no
other gentleman had suggested such a thing, only this woman's friends—it struck me that that meant something improper; I had an idea—after that I consented to go and have supper with him at the Cafe Monico; he said my friend was coming there—I did not say to her that I would not go out with her again if she introduced men like that to me—she said, "You silly girl, why did not you go with him?"—I did not mention to he that I thought it was something improper—I did not understand from her that she wanted me to act improperly with Clarke; she wanted me to go to the hotel, I don't know what for—she wanted me to go with him—I did not know what she thought—I wish I had said to her, "I shall have nothing more to do with you," but I was very much younger then—I believed her to be genuine—I went to the Alhambra, and met two young men there, introduced by name—I don't think we had any champagne there—she wanted me to go with one and she would go with the other to a private hotel—I don't know at what time it dawned upon me that she was an improper acquaintance to have—I believed in her being my friend—she told me that Wilson was a rich man—he promised me diamonds and he promised to take me in his yacht and always be my friend—he was a perfect stranger to me, but he said he had taken a fancy to me—having had supper with me I agreed to meet him next day—he used no force; he persuaded me—it was simply the diamonds he would give me, and the promise to take me in his yacht—it was not because of his monetary proposals that I agreed to stop with him a week; it was the over-persuasion of the woman, and the man himself—his being a rich man had no effect on my mind; I did not care whether he was the son of an M.P. or not, or whether he had a house in Grosvenor gardens—none of those things induced me to go with him; they over-persuaded me—my temper has always been most amiable—I might have called him a vampire; I can't remember everything that happened three years ago—I won't swear I did not; I can't remember—I did not go with him because I wanted to remain in London and see the amusements—Mrs. Muchmore did not strike me as any thing—I formed no opinion of her; she did not interest me enough—it is not true that when she brought up the hot water in the morning Wilson was in bed—I was in my night-dress—I did not see him in bed—he could not have been in bed and I not know it—I know that Mrs. Muchmore has sworn that he was in bed and I in my nightdress; that is untrue—the mark on the hat of Broomfield was a big square peculiar stitch down the side of it; it was a new hat; I recognised it by that—he gave me the name of Mr. Broomfield, of the London and County Bank, a manager or something—he remained with me about five minutes—I told him I did not know him, and did not want to have anything to do with him—he met me by accident the second time, in the same place both times—I was always going there to post letters—he spoke to me on the second occasion, he was evidently waiting for me—I did not see him till he came right up and spoke to me—he came up quickly; he walked with me only a few paces—Wilson was not drunk when I met him, he only had drink, but he was quite intoxicated when he got to Wellington Road—I was very much disgusted with him the second night, and I was the first night, but I did not think he would be intoxicated again—that was the reason I went back the second time, and I had promised to stop a week with the man—I went back on the Tuesday, because I had
promised to stop a week—when Wilson made the proposal that I should stop with him for a week I first consented, and afterwards refused because the risk was too much, as I was married; that wag the second thought—I was over persuaded—the man was a friend of my companion—I went out to buy a night-dress, and he was with me; he took me that very night to a place of amusement—my husband threatened to poison me—I don't remember saying I would sooner be divorced than have Mrs. Hawks live with me—nothing improper took place between me and the man; there was not even an attempt to kiss me, or put his arm round my waist—he simply fell on the sofa and went to sleep—that is my account of the episode at St. John's Wood.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I put a blanket round him—I met Mr. Broomfield twice accidentally and once by appointment; my solicitors advised me to meet him, so that Wilson could be traced—I made a long statement at Bow Street, in which I told the story of the divorce proceedings—I believe Wilson gave me the name of his club as the Constitutional—after I told my solicitor about Broomfield and mentioned the Constitutional Club the solicitor said he would advise me to keep up my acquaintance with him, because they wanted to find out Wilson and the woman through Broomfield—my ground for suggesting that Broomfield was acquainted with Wilson is the strange manner in which he came up and spoke to me, and then I recognised Wilson's hat on his head—he had the same hat on every occasion—he did not mention Wilson's name; he wanted to know about this affair, what had become of these people—I did not tell him in the first place about them; he asked me—the last time I saw him, when I met him by appointment, he wanted to know about the case—I cannot remember the date—I had not spoken to him about it; he seemed to know about it—I did not tell him proceedings were being taken against my husband; he wanted me to go with him to Southsea—when he spoke to me about my case that was the first word that had been mentioned about it—he said, "I know everything that goes on"—I told my solicitor that the last time I saw him he began to ask these questions—I believe he made a note of my verbal statement in my presence—I went to the Empire Theatre twice, and to the Alhambra between those two visits to the Empire—I don't remember the occasion when I returned home alone in a cab from the Empire—I may have been three times to the Empire, I can only remember twice—I may have remembered when I was at Bow Street having supper at the Cafe' Monico, and going home alone in a cab, I cannot remember it now—I went to the Cafe Monico to supper twice—my memory was more vigorous on 13th October than it is now—I went the first night to the Cafe Monico—I went on 23rd March, to the Cafe Monico with Wilson—Wilson did not give me the name of his club; he wanted to write to me; he asked me to write to him; he did not give me the address of his club—the removal from Earl's Court Road to Denbigh Street was not at my suggestion: Lyon asked me to be her companion—30, Denbigh Street was not opposite where my husband lived; it was close by—I did not suggest we should go to Denbigh Street in order to have an opportunity of seeing what he was doing; she wanted me to go and live there—I knew it was near where he lived—I did not keep observation on my husband while I was
there; I had no curiosity to see what he was doing—I did not ask Lyon to receive letters for me under the name of Miss Temple; she wanted me to receive letters from Wilson under cover for her—the first visit to the Empire was 17th or 18th March, and my first meeting with Wilson 23rd March—I mentioned the Countess Carina to Lyons; she knew I used to go to her house—I have never lunched with the Countess Carina at the Cafe Royal, or at any restaurant—I lunched with her at her own chambers—I did not dine with her—I did not tell Lyon that on 25th March I had lunched with the Countess at the Cafe Royal, and that I had met the man I had spoken to at the Empire the night or two nights before; that is quite untrue—it is quite untrue that on the 19th I went with a gentleman to the Empire Restaurant, 40 and 41, Leicester Square—I don't remember what I did that evening—I never kept a diary—I don't think I was questioned in the Divorce Court about what I did on 19th March; I believed I was asked about it at the Police-court—I went nowhere that evening—I was not at Victoria Station on 20th March—I was in Denbigh Street—I went to Victoria Station two or three times while I was living at Denbigh Street; once when I met Wilson, and he brought me back to Victoria Station and left me there, and once when I met him accidentally, just before the divorce proceedings—I was not living in Denbigh Street then—I went to Victoria Station once, I think, to post a letter—it would be a most natural thing to do to go to the letter-box to post my letters, which were frequent—I can only recollect being at Victoria Station three times—I was not frequently there—I remained indoors the whole day on March 20th, 1892; I often remained in the whole day—I have, not been asked before to-day what I did on March 20th—I should certainly know if I met a man on that day—I did a deal of painting at that time—I told Lyon when I was at Earl's Court that I was in the habit of going to take lessons from Miss McGregor—I did not go there after I went to Denbigh Street—I have never been into Russell's Coffee Rooms—it is an entire fabrication in the report about the 21st March—I have only my recollection to go by as to what I did on that day—I never went to the Burlington Arcade up to this time—I don't remember if Lyon was in my company on March 21st—on March 18th I joined Mrs. Watson at 30, Denbigh Street; on the 23rd I met Wilson—Mrs. Watson used to go out all day; she was in Denbigh Street, and I was living as her companion she used to be in in the evening—I used not to go out with her—she used to go out by herself in the day, and take me out with her at night—I remember saying that I did not go out with her during the day, I only went out with her at night—I only remember going out with her by day on March 14th—that was before we went to Denbigh Street—after that I was not out with her every day when at Denbigh Street—I charged Lyon with larceny at the Police-court—after an exhaustive hearing the charge was dismissed, because the pawnbroker could not remember her—soon after I received the citation I made a statement to my solicitors, which was embodied in what I swore at the Police-court, I believe—I don't know that it differs from what I have said to-day.
Re-examined. The Magistrate committed the woman for trial on the charge of stealing my rings—I did not go on March 21st to Miss McGregor for the purpose of taking drawing lessons as is stated in the
report—I told Lyon that I used to go there for drawing lessons—there is no truth in saying that I walked to Piccadilly on March 21st and went to the Burlington Arcade—when I spoke of my solicitors, and of what I had told them about Broomfield, I referred to Messrs. Greenwood, my solicitors in the divorce suit—neither they nor I had anything to do with instituting this prosecution—when I attended at Bow Street to swear an information I did so at the instance of the Treasury—in the divorce case, Mrs. Hawks, my husband's sister, was called as a witness for him to disprove my allegations of cruelty—I had the landlady from Hastings to corroborate me about the cruelty, but I do not remember any other witness—before I went to Paris I consulted Mr. Stimson, the solicitor at Bedford, and he advised me to leave Bedford—I had not known him before I left Paris, not till after I was at Bedford—I consulted him since I quarrelled with my husband, and he advised me—he acted as my adviser and friend until I forgave my husband and came back to him from Paris—Mr. Stimson gave me the address of the place to go to in a Paris suburb, some private people—Mrs. Watson said she had often seen Wilson, and knew his brother well—I did not believe when I went to the Empire that there was any arrangement or plan for meeting Wilson—I believe she met him that night by accident—I did not at that time know that Mrs. Watson was in the service of Clarke, a private detective—I had no idea that Stephens, to whom I was introduced, was a private detective—I believed the statements which Wilson made about himself—I believed the statements which Clarke, when he called himself Stephens, made—the woman introduced him as Stephens of the Stock Exchange—when I continued in communication with Mrs. Watson, after the communication had been made to me, there was no living person at that time to whom I could go as a friend in London, and I believed she was my friend at that time—I do not quite recollect whether I saw the Counters Carina in the Divorce Court when my suit was being heard—I fancy I did so hear, but I do not remember.
E. W. GREENWOOD (Recalled). I acted as solicitor for Mrs. Barrett in the divorce proceedings—she met Mr. Broomfield under my sanction and with my advice—that was before the divorce proceedings came on—at that time I was endeavouring to find this Mr. Wilson—it was after she had handed me a letter purporting to come from Broomfield that I advised her to keep the appointment.
By MR. GEOGHEGAN. I don't think she told me that Broomfield belonged to the Constitutional Club—I made no inquiries there—I think she said he belonged to the London and County Bank—I have not made inquiries there.
SARAH MUCHMORE . I am the wife of Richard Muchmore, of 19 Wellington Road, St. John's Wood—on March 25th, 1892, I remember Mrs. Barrett, accompanied by a gentleman, coming there—my daughter showed them the rooms—I went up to make the arrangements, and saw them both—the rooms were taken for a week; the gentleman said until they could get a house—he paid me half a sovereign as a deposit—the rooms were on the first floor, consisting of three rooms, a sitting-room in front, a small sitting-room leading to a bedroom at the back—they took the rooms on a Friday afternoon between two and three, and they came in on the Monday about half-past two—the gentleman had a bag, the lady
had nothing—they had dinner and tea, and after tea they went out—they returned between eleven and twelve—they had not asked for a latchkey, and my daughter gave it them. I heard them come in, we listened for them—next morning my daughter and I went up to do the rooms—we went into the sitting-room together,—whilst there the lady called to me—I could not exactly hear what she said, and I went to the door to her—she wanted a jug of hot water—she opened the door in her night-dress—I saw into the room—the bed was behind the door—the gentleman was in bed—I went and fetched the water—she opened the door, and I gave it into her hand—she shut the door, and I went away—we were doing the room—my daughter was there the whole time, and "he laid the breakfast, and they breakfasted together—after breakfast they left the house—they ordered dinner at seven—they were out all day—the lady came home first, about an hour or so before the gentleman; about six, or something like that—I sent my daughter up to ask the lady if she would have dinner up, and she said she would rather wait till her husband came in—they had dinner together—after dinner my attention was called to a loud noise in the drawing-room, as if knocking the chairs about, and I went up and asked what was the matter—the gentleman said there was nothing the matter, "We were only having a few words," and I went downstairs—after that the bell rang—the lady had lost her hat, or something—after a short time Mrs. Barrett came downstairs, where I was, and I lent her a piece of paper to wrap her night-dress in—she did not complain to me of having lost anything—she said she was going to her sister—she would be back in the morning, and she left some quarter of an hour after—I heard the sound of someone coming downstairs, like creeping down—of course we were listening; I was going to the door to meet him, but he opened the front door, shut it, and went away; before I could get to the door he ran; I only saw his back; he had not paid me anything beyond the 10s. deposit; he owed me the balance for the rooms and for the food—I never saw him again—next day, March 30th, Clarke came to the house and asked me whether we had any new lodgers come in—I said, "Yes, we had had some come in, but they had gone"—I said,. "Who are you?"; he said, "I am a detective; my name is Clarke; those people are the people I am looking for"—he asked me what the lady was like, and what the gentleman was like, and of course I told him; and then he showed roe a photograph of the lady; I said I thought it was her—he said, "No doubt you will have to be called on in the divorce suit"—I said, "What is it about?"; he said, "There is a case coming on for a Mr. Barrett, and this is the wife"—he asked to see the rooms they had occupied, and I showed them to him—he went away then—one day afterwards, when I was out shopping, Clarke met me and said he wanted me to go and swear an affidavit, and I went and swore it (this was on the 26th April)—that was at Seymour Place, Marylebone Road—as I was going in I saw Mrs. Watson (Lyon) talking to Clarke—I was at the trial in the Divorce Court during the hearing; I saw the two prisoners there—a few days after the divorce proceedings were over, Mr. Barrett and another gentleman came to my house.
Cross-examined by MR. GROGHEGAN. I and my daughter were examined at the Divorce Court—the first thing in the morning, 26th March, my
daughter lighted the fire in the sitting-room—I drew up the blinds, opened the window, and dusted the room—there is a sofa in the sitting-room—my daughter had not lighted the fire before the lady opened her door and asked for the hot water; she was blackleading the fireplace—I had been up about five or ten minutes: during that time no one was in the sitting-room but my daughter and I—as the lady opened the door (the bed was right opposite the door) I could not avoid seeing the bed; I am positive the gentleman was in the bed—when the lady came she did not say to me that her luggage was coming on; she said it to my daughter—I was not present; she opened the door to them—when I went upstairs after hearing the noise, I saw Mr. Wilson—he appeared to be sober as far as I saw; he did not appear to me to be drunk—I saw him on more than one occasion—besides Clarke, Inspector Conquest and the police came to look at the rooms—I gave them a description of Wilson as near as I possibly could.
Re-examined. Inspector Conquest came some time after, I think before I was called at Bow Street—I am not certain the noise I heard upstairs when I was below was as though they were running about and quarrelling; that took me upstairs—I only asked what was the matter—it only lasted about a minute or two—he said there was nothing the matter—then I went away—Mrs. Barrett opened the door with her hand, half-way open—she stood so that I could see her in her night-dress—she was facing me, and I was facing the bedroom—her back would be towards the bed where the man was.
By the COURT. There are two small doors between the sitting-room and the middle room; they are always kept open—they were open when I went up in the morning—there was no couch in the middle room—if there had been anyone there I must have seen them—no bell was rung before I went up, I am sure of that—we always tap at the door before going in, and if there is no answer we go in—there was no answer—I did not see any blanket round the man's shoulders; his head was under the clothes; you could just see the back of his head, that was all—I saw nothing on the sofa in the shape of a blanket, and I did not notice whether it was foggy that morning—I knocked at the sitting-room door when I first went up, and hearing no answer, we went in—the front door of the sitting-room was shut—I waited about two minutes after I knocked, my daughter and I were together, and then we went in.
By MR. TAYLOR. I heard no noise after I knocked; no noise as of a person walking from one room to another.
MINNIE HAYWARD . I am a daughter of the last witness—in March, 1892, I was living with my mother at 19, Wellington Road, St. John's Wood—on 25th March that year I remember Mrs. Barrett coming with a man to take rooms—they came in on the 28th, the following Monday, I could not say exactly the time, but I know that about three in the afternoon they ordered dinner—they went out that evening—I did not hear them come back, I was in bed—next morning I went upstairs with my mother, after eight o'clock—mother knocked at the sitting-room door, and we both went into the room together—we drew up the blinds, I did the fireplace and mother dusted—then Mrs. Barrett called something from the bedroom door; I did not see her—she had to open the door to call; she held the door open; I was at the fireplace—I could just lean
backward and see her—I could just see her figure; I did not take particular notice how much of her figure I could see—she had on a white dress, it must have been a night-dress, I should say; I did not see her face—I heard her ask for hot water—mother went down to fetch it—Mrs. Barrett shut the door again; mother brought the hot water up—I was still in the sitting-room, doing the fireplace—I don't know what mother did with the hot water, I did not notice her; the usual course would be to put it down outside the door, or take it in—dinner had been ordered for seven that evening—Mrs. Barrett came in first, alone, I should say about an hour before—I waited on them at dinner—after dinner, while we were downstairs, we heard a noise as though the chairs and tables were being moved—I cannot recollect whether I heard any bell, I could not say positively—I and mother went upstairs together—the gentleman was sitting down in a chair, and Mrs. Barrett was standing up—mother asked her what all the noise was about—the gentleman said, "We were having a few words"—she complained of having lost her hat; I found it behind the folding doors, and gave it to her—mother was not there at the time; she had gone down—Mrs. Barrett then complained of having lost her night-dress—I did not find that; just as I was going out of the room he went and took it out of the coal-scuttle; I saw him do it—I then went downstairs—shortly afterwards she came downstairs; she asked for a piece of paper, and she wrapped her night-dress in it, and left the house very soon after—I then went out, and know nothing more—I did not hear the man leave—next day I opened the door, and Mr. Clarke came in—I called my mother, and she interviewed him.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. Before I went up in the morning I did not hear any movements or any shutting of doors—afterwards, in the evening, when Mrs. Barrett left she said to me, "My husband has fits like this frequently; I shall go to my sister's, when he is quieter, till the morning, and return"—there was only one sofa in the sitting-room—I did not notice whether the sofa-cushion was disarranged—my duty was to look after the fire, and to help my mother to put things straight—I noticed nothing unusual about the sofa—I had a good opportunity of seeing Wilson's face—I gave a description to the police—I noticed the way in which he was dressed; I did not mention his hat, or his whiskers, or beard—I could not say whether the lady was excited or not when she said her husband had bad fits like that—he did not appear excited; as far as I could see, he was sober.
Re-examined. I gave evidence at the Divorce Court—I was not summoned as a witness at the Police-court; they did not come for me; I was ill; I had been confined a few months before—I was told I should be required to attend at the trial.
FREDERICK WHITESIDE . I live at 32, Foxton Road, Earl's Court—about the middle of February, 1892, Mrs. Barrett came to board and lodge there—during the latter part of the time she was there Countess Carina came on Saturdays, and Madame McGregoron Mondays—she had never been there before.
LENA DREWITT . I live at 31, The Parade, Gunnersbury—in March, 1892, I kept a boarding house at 56, Earl's Court Road—Mrs. Barrett came there in 1892 and gave references, and I gave her a room on the first floor—next day Mrs. Watson came and I let her have a room there,
accidentally opposite to Mrs. Barrett, and after a short time I noticed that they were on very friendly terms, they went into each other's rooms and went out together at night—Mrs. Watson did not stay many days. I gave her notice to go, and Mrs. Barrett only stayed a day after she left—Mrs. Barrett was perfectly well behaved and respectable.
MARIA MARY ALLEN . I am the wife of John Allen, now living in Dover—he was formerly a ticket collector to the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway Company—we lived in 1892 in Denbigh Street, Pimlico, and let apartments—Mrs. Barrett came to live there early in the spring—Mrs. Watson, the prisoner, engaged the rooms in the name of Watson, and paid a deposit—they both came into the house the next day, but I do not recollect whether they came together—a reference was given to Earl's Court; but we did not apply, as they looked respectable people—they remained a month, I believe—they went out together in the evening more than once, I believe—they told me they were going to the Empire music hall—they had a latch-key—I heard of their going to the Empire more than once, but not to any other theatre—I remember Mrs. Barrett being away from the house one night towards the end of their stay—I cannot remember whether Mrs. Watson was at home when she returned—Mrs. Watson had been away from the house a day or two before—I cannot remember whether after Mrs. Barrett was away for a night—they stayed for a day or a week—I believe Mrs. Watson said they would go in a week's time—she did not say where they were going—I do not remember whether they left together; it is so long ago, and I was very unwell at the time—Mrs. Barrett was not unwell; she was not always quite well while with me, but she was about—she had her breakfast in bed for a day or two—I do not know whether that was through illness; she never complained to me of illness—my husband left the Victoria Station in 1892—he is in the South of France; he comes back in May—he has been abroad, on and off, ever since he left Victoria Station.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. They were in the habit of going out together in the evenings, but I cannot say very frequently in the daytime—my husband went away in 1892 or 1893; his leaving had nothing to do with this case.
ANN HITCHINS . I live at 117, Buckingham Palace Road—in March, or early in April, 1892, Mrs. Barrett came to board with me; she stayed about a week—she came by herself, but Mrs. Watson brought the luggage the same day; that is the name she gave at the time—she said she was going to join her husband, who was an electrical engineer—I understood that she was leaving London for that purpose.
ROSE JONES . I am single, and live at Winchester—I used to manage a lodging-house at 296, Vauxhall Bridge Road—in March or April, 1892, Mrs. Barrett came to lodge there, and remained nearly twelve months—up to August, 1892, she paid her rent regularly, after which she was in difficulties for money, and pawned her things to keep herself—when she left me in March, 1893, she was very destitute, and went into St. George's Workhouse, Fulham—she conducted herself as a respectable woman.
door to 97, where the prisoner Clarke lived till June, 1893—Warwick Street and Denbigh Street are not far from each other.
THOMAS MCMAHON . I live at the Lodge, Royal Mint Square, City, and am superintendent of the Royal Metropolitan Dwellings Company—on February 7th, 1891, I was superintendent of Holbein Buildings, belonging to the Company—the two prisoners occupied Flat 23 in that building as man and wife, in the name of Watson—they were still there when I left—while they were there a knife-cleaning machine came in the name of Wilson; I believe Mrs. Watson took it in.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I was not asked about this till I was at the Police-court—I am quite certain it came in the name of Wilson, and Mrs. Watson explained that her husband being a private detective they often had to change their name.
HARRY NORRIS STOCKING . I am a clerk, of 82, Arleyford Road, Kensington—in August, 1890, I was in the employ of the Metropolitan Dwellings Company—I remember an application for 23, Holbein Buildings, Chelsea, signed "N. J. Watson, Lunacy Commissioner"—the name and address of his landlord is H. J. Clarke, 97, Warwick Street, Pimlico.
RICHARD BATCHELOR . I am chief clerk to the Metropolitan Dwellings Company—I collected the rent of 23, Holbein Buildings, Chelsea, while the two prisoners resided there, between September 2nd, 1890, and November, 1892—I saw Lyon there.
RICHARD MUCHMORE . I am the husband of Sarah Muchmore, who has given evidence—I remember Mrs. Barrett coming to my house in 1892, in consequence of something which occurred in 1892—I cannot say the date I went to see Clarke at his office in Carsbrook Street—it was before the trial of the divorce petition—I saw Mrs. Clarke, the prisoner Lyon—She said that Mr. Clarke was not in, and asked who I was. I said "Muchmore"—I went there through something that transpired at the Police-court, which was rather detrimental to my interest—we had some conversation in reference to Mrs. Barrett—only us two were in the office at the time.
LOUISA HOLLOWAY . I am caretaker at 11, Artillery Buildings—I know Clarke as Mr. Reynolds—he took some rooms there with Mrs. Reynolds, the other prisoner, on July 15th, 1893, and was there eighteen months—I last saw Mrs. Reynolds on a Thursday at the end of last year—about the end of January I received this letter.
ELLIOT AUTON . I am in the India Office—a certified copy of the entry of baptisms in India, which is kept at the India Office, certified under the hand of the Secretary of State, was supplied some time ago—this certifies the baptism of Gertrude Alexandra Bird, daughter of Daniel Henry and Sarah Augusta Bird, on November 8th, 1872, said to be born on September 6th, 1872—there was no registration of births at Agra in 1872, and the abode is Agra.
Cross-examined. I said that I had a certificate of birth—I got it from India—I gave it to my solicitor, Mr. Greenwood, on the day of the divorce proceedings—it was a copy from the register kept in India—this
is the same one; it has Indian names without the seal—I wrote to the clergyman in charge where I was born, and he sent it back without the seal.
H. G. MUSKETT (Re-examined). To the best of my belief the signature to this letter is the defendant Clarke's: "2, Holbein Buildings, 19th January, 1895. Sir, I give you notice that I wish to give up the apartments."
GEORGE EDWARDS (Police Sergeant). On 31st May, 1892, I was at Victoria Station with Mrs. Barrett, and saw Allen, a ticket inspector, walking up and down the platform in conversation with the prisoner Clarke—Allen introduced Clarke as Mr. Clarke, a private detective, and introduced me as Sergeant Edwards—Clarke said, "Do you want me"?—he afterwards said, "I hear you have a warrant for someone; do you come from Scotland Yard, or from Waltham Street"?—I said, "From Waltham Street"—Mrs. Barrett, who was standing close to me, said, "Who is this man," pointing to Clarke—I said in Clarke's hearing, "This is Mr. Clarke, a private detective"—she said, "I recognise him as Mr. Stephens, of the Stock Exchange, who took me to a coffee-house, and wanted to take me to a private hotel"—Clarke said, "That is all right"—Mrs. Barrett said, "Where is Mrs. Watson, your female detective?"—he said, "I never make use of such things"—I left shortly afterwards—I was examined at the Police-court, and Mrs. Watson was liberated on bail—Clarke became her surety.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. She surrendered every time—when Mrs. Barrett met Clarke Clarke said, "Oh, that is all right, is it?" that was said in a jocular kind of way.
Re-examined, After the charge against her, she said, "This is a fine get up when you are short of money"—I said, "You seem to have managed your business pretty well. I suppose you have a good many cases for Clarke"—she said, "Yes, but I only go where a stylishly-dressed person is required."
JOHN CONQUEST (Police Inspector). On October 13th, 1892, I received this warrant from Bow Street for the arrest of the two prisoners, and a man named Wilson, and made every possible endeavour to arrest them—I could have arrested Clarke earlier than I did, I saw him every week, but I could not find Lyons; I made every possible search for her and for Wilson, and have done since—on January 12th this year, in consequence of information, I went to 2, Ventnor Villas, Lower Tooting, with Mrs. Barrett, and there saw Lyons—Mrs. Barrett said, "You are the woman we have been looking for for so long"—I said, "Mrs. Barrett identifies you as being Mrs. Watson or Mrs. Lyons; I am a police-officer, and have a warrant for your arrest"—she said, pointing to Mrs. Barrett, "I don't know that woman; my name is Lawrence"—I read the warrant to her, and the charges, that they did unlawfully conspire, confederate, and agree together, by subtle means and devices, to defeat the ends of justice, and also to procure Gertrude Alexandra Barrett to commit adultery—she said, "Mrs. Barrett knows it is wrong; how can she say such a thing? She was never in the family-way, and she knows she was not. As God is my judge, I never had anything to do with such a thing, but I am very sorry indeed for Mrs. Barrett"—nothing had been said by anybody to call forth she observation Mrs. Watson made; before I had finished reading
he made that statement—I also referred to the charge on which she was taken to Bow Street Station, and when charged she said, "I am perfectly innocent of that charge"—that was this charge—she gave her address, Ellen Lyons, 12, Artillery Buildings, Westminster—I said, "That is not your name"—she said, "That is the name I am known by in this case "—next morning, at 11.30, I went to Clarke's house at Wands worth, and saw him—I said, "I have a warrant for your arrest for conspiring with Mrs. Watson and another person in connection with the Barrett divorce case"—I read it to him; he said, "The whole thing is villainous; Mrs. Barrett would tell any lies to suit her purpose; my business has always been conducted properly; I do not believe there is an inquiry office in London more respectable than mine; I am quite innocent of any conspiracy, and if it had not been for the want of funds I would have faced this charge long ago"—I took him in charge.
Cross-examined by MR. GEOGHEGAN. I am at Scotland Yard, and not attached to any division—Carsbrook Street, is between two and three hundred yards from Scotland Yard—Clarke has been in the habit of going there to his business—there is no suggestion that he kept out of the way—I knew him by sight—I have made inquiries for Wilson not only in London, but everywhere—I got his description from Mrs. Barrett and Mrs. Muchmore and the daughter, but their recollection was very indistinct—I saw Clarke two or three times a month—I have had him watched.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. I told Lyon that she might also be charged with stealing some of the jewellery—she said, "That charge is grounded on the other; she has accused me of it before. This is only done out of spite."
GUILTY .—LYON— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. CLARKE— Two Years' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, April 2nd, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHIGAN and MARSHALL Defended.
The JURY, being unable to agree, were discharged without giving a verdict, and the trial was postponed to the next Session.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, April 3rd, Thursday, 4th, and Friday, 5th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
NOT GUILTY, and put in a plea of justification, stating the contents of the alleged libel to be true in substance and in fact, and that it was published for the public benefit.
The details of the case are unfit for publication.
At the close of the case for the prosecution, and whilst MR. CARSON was opening the defence, SIR EDWARD CLARKE interposed and stated that he had consulted with his client, and was prepared to accept a verdict of NOT GUILTY , which the JURY at once pronounced, adding that they considered that the publication was justified and for the public benefit.
OLD COURT.—Monday, April 8th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
MESSRS. BODKIN and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN appeared for Wood, MR. HORACE AVORY for Bowyer, and MR. POLAND, Q.C., for Nicholson.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GRANTHAM Prosecuted, and MR. DRAKE Defended.
DAVIS MOLENKAMP . I am a jeweller, of Victoria Dock Road, Canning Town—on February 10th, the prisoner, who I have known some time, came in, and I asked him to get me a P.O.O. for £7, which I gave him, and 5d. for the order—he went away and came back with the order—in the meantime I had written a letter to W. E. Johnson; I put the order in it when the prisoner was close to me, and asked him to post it—he said, "Shall I put it in the pillar-box next door?"—I said, "Yes"—on the 15th I received a letter from Mr. Johnson—during the following week the prisoner came in once or twice, as I had promised to get him a situation—I told him the order had not been received—he said, "I suppose some b—postman has got it; you know where I live; I will always come forward and swear that I posted it"—he stayed away after that, and I sent for him, and asked him to write down that he posted it for me, and he did so—I saw him write this W. E. Johnson. (This was a declaration by the prisoner that he got the P.O.O., and posted the letter.)—this is the request I gave to the prisoner to go to the post-office.
Cross-examined. I have known him about eight years as an honest, hard-working man—he bought something of me on February 11th, but I did not ask him for the money, because he was out of work—another customer was in the shop—I had another letter, but that was not to be posted—I asked him to deliver it to my son at Plaistow, as he was going there—that was delivered all right, and on the following Saturday he came as usual—I did not send for him—he came sometimes once or twice
a week, but if he was at the factory not for a month—he had told me he was agent to a life office, but it did not bring him in sufficient—I spoke to him once or twice about the loss of the letter, and then he did not come, but his address was entered in the book—I asked him to deliver a letter to my son, but I did not ask him if he would mind putting a letter in the pillar-box.
Re-examined. It was the prisoner who offered to post the letter.
WILLIAM LORD (Constable, G.P.O.). I produce the money order B, and the requisition and the advice C, the payee being W. E. Johnson—the money order was cashed at the Post-office on February 12th, the day after it was taken out.
HENRY COOPER (Detective Sergeant). On March 8th I went to the prisoner's house, 23, Burnand Road, Silvertown, and said, "I shall take you for stealing a valuable document—he said, "He put it in the envelope, and I put it in the pillar-box."
WALTER JOHNSON . Mr. Molenkamp is my tenant—he owed me £12 10s. for rent in February—I received a letter from him, but never received this money order—this is not my signature; I did not authorise anybody to sign my name to this order—I was at my business place that day—I wrote to Mr. Molenkamp three days afterwards for the rent, which I had not received—I received the second letter on the day that it bears date.
Cross-examined. I employ about 120 hands, and receive from 20 to 40 letters a day, and almost daily letters containing remittances.
By the COURT. I have never had to complain of money remitted to the firm not being received—if I am not there on a Saturday the letters are sent to my house on Sunday, as the private letters are unopened—they fall into the office and are picked up by any clerk who is passing—an authorised clerk opens letters in my absence before my arrival in the morning, and private letters are put on one side.
ALFRED GEORGE KILLUP . I am a clerk in the Money Order Office, London—I paid this money order B on February 12th to the person who presented it between 10.30 and 11 a.m.—I have no remembrance of the person to whom I paid it.
THOMAS EDWARDS . I am a clerk in the General Post Office, and have had some experience as an expert in handwriting—the signature to the declaration A and to the order B are no doubt written by the same person, the first V of the "W" is parted at the bottom, and is larger than the second, and the second has a tendency to curve to the right—the next letter, "E," falls below the other two letters, and there is the same peculiarity in document "A"—in the "J" the loop at the bottom is the same in each—it is not disguised in the rest of the name Johnson—the striking similarity is in the letter "s"—we get the same in the words' undersigned "and"enclosing "in the break between the "J" and the "oh" and "s"—I can point put other instances—it is the prisoner's undisguised writing.
Cross-examined. I have been in the Post Office twenty years, and have devoted my attention to handwriting for ten years—the Post Office do not usually employ an expert—this is not a Post Office prosecution—I have been employed before the late Recorder and Mr. Justice Day and others.
By the COURT. Robberies are usually preceded by complaints—there
have been no complaints that letters have been lost from the districts in which they were posted or where they ought to have been delivered—there has been no complaint about the postmen who deliver letters to Mr. Johnson.
Re-examined. Postmen do not cash stolen P.O,O., because they have to be paid at a particular office, which ensures detection.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY. Discharged on recognizances.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
TURNER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MASKERY Prosecuted.
ELIZABETH BALLARD . I am a widow, and live at 188, Burridge Road, Plumstead—on March 10th I went to bed at about 12.15 a.m.—I left the doors and windows securely fastened—when I came down about 9.30 I found the room in confusion; my work-box and desk turned over, chairs overturned, and the gas on—in the scullery the window frame was broken in, and there were footmarks in the sink, which was under the window—I missed knives, forks, spoons, teapot, and several articles of clothing—these things are mine, except the teapot—I saw this property at the Police-station—I found this waistcoat lying on the couch.
FREDERICK CHEESEMAN (322 K). On March 10th I was in the Raglan Road, when I met Hanson and Turner about 200 yards from the Burridge Road—they turned into a passage to avoid me—I went in another direction, and stopped them in the Vicarage Road—I asked them what they were doing that time in the morning—they said they were going to work—I asked them what they had got in their hands—they said their dinners—Turner had a lady's mantle round him—I took them into custody—when we had got twenty yards along, Hanson said, "I am going for it; see to our tea and sugar"—he then broke away and decamped—I took Turner to the station—he threw this bundle away as soon as he was brought to the station—I have no doubt Hanson is the nan I caught—I supplied a description of him to Vanstone—on 20th March I went into a lodging-house at 1.30 a.m.—I saw the prisoner Hanson lying in bed—I identified him by his clothes lying at the foot of the bed—I brought him to the station.
ALFRED VANSTONE (Detective R). In consequence of a description supplied me by Cheeseman, I arrested Hanson at 10, Roupell Road, Woolwich, a lodging-house—I went in by myself—I said to him, "I am a police officer; you answer the description of a man charged with burglary"—he said, "What job is it?"—I said, "188, Burridge Road, Plumstead"—he said, "You might as well have left me till to-morrow, and not come and disturb respectable people in the middle of the night; I have been knocking about the streets all day"—I called in Cheeseman, who picked the man out as the man who escaped from his custody.
Road—I found the catch of the scullery window and the framework broken away—I found this knife on the window-sill—it had evidently been placed between the two sashes and the catch—I also found this chisel, an old pistol, and a pair of pincers lying on the outside of the window—Mrs. Ballard handed me this waistcoat, which corresponds with the coat the prisoner was wearing; the exact class of material, and about the wear—he was wearing quite a different waistcoat when arrested to what his coat is.
GUILTY .* He also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Woolwich in November, 1894.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. TURNER— Discharged on his own recognizances.
340. JAMES BRILL (16), and CORNELIUS JACKSON (22), PLEADED GUILTY ** to burglary in the dwelling-house of James Churton, and stealing rubber teats and other articles; and also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Harry Whitting, with intent to steal. Jackson PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction of felony at Rochester in June, 1893. JACKSON— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. BRILL— Four Days' Imprisonment.
Before Mr. Justice Collins.
MESSRS. C. F. GILL and TRAVERS HUMPHREYS Prosecuted; MR. HUTTON Defended.
FRANCES JONES . I am a nurse in the Richmond Workhouse—at the end of December last I was doing the work of another nurse, Miss Preston, in the infirmary of the workhouse—on 31st December the prisoner was under my charge in the lying-in ward—on that day she was delivered of a female child; it was a healthy child—she was under my charge till the 7th January—I then left the ward, and Miss Preston returned and took her place—I knew the prisoner by the name of Amy Smart.
ISABEL PRESTON . I am a nurse at the Richmond Union Workhouse—I was at the workhouse when the prisoner was admitted on 12th December—she said her name was Amy Smart, and that she was single—she came into the workhouse for the purpose of her confinement—I left the workhouse for some time—I was there when the birth of the child was registered in the name of Smart—the prisoner and child remained in the workhouse till 24th January—during the time they were there the child was in a very healthy condition—the prisoner left of her own accord; she could have remained as long as she liked—the clothes for the child were supplied by the workhouse.
SARAH BURRIDGE . I live with my husband at 57, Alexandra Road, Richmond—on Friday, 25th January, the prisoner called on me about half-past ten at night—she had a baby with her—she asked me if I could tell her where she could get a room—I said I did not know as it was so late, I was afraid people had gone to bed—she stayed at my house that night with her baby, and till the following Wednesday, the 30th—on the
Wednesday she went out with the baby, and came back without it—about ten days afterwards the baby was brought back to my house by a Mrs. Williams, and she and the baby stayed with me until the 12th February—I was not paid anything by the prisoner—she told me that she was working at a steam laundry—the baby appeared to be healthy while with me—on 1st March I saw the body of a child at the mortuary—I recognised it as the body of the baby that was at my house and left on 12th February.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner first came I was not willing to take her in, as I had no room—she said she did not know where to go, and she should have to walk the streets all night with her child—I told her I thought the baby would die if she had it out during the night, and it was on that account I took her in—she used to go out in the morning, sometimes at nine or half-past, to look for work—I think she said she had been working at the laundry—she said she had been working there three years; she gave me to understand she was working there—I never saw her with any money—she seemed to be very fond and careful of the child; it was always properly washed and clothed—she appeared to be weak and suffering from the cold.
CHARLOTTE WILLIAMS . I am the wife of James Williams, of 2, St. George's Place, Mortlake—on 29th January I saw the prisoner at Mrs. Burridge's—she spoke to me about taking her baby to nurse—she said she was not very well off and had no support, only what she earned by washing, and she could not pay me much—I said if she would pay 5s. a week I would take the child—next morning she brought the child, and I kept it until 10th February—she only came once to see it—it was a very nice child, very strong and healthy—I was not in a position to keep it for nothing, I was very fond of it, it was a dear little thing—I afterwards took it to Mrs. Burridge as the prisoner did not come for it, as she said—it took it's food well and seemed strong and well.
ANN FRENCH . I am the wife of James French, of Rawley Road, Richmond—on the 12th February at half past eleven at night the prisoner came to my house with the child and remained there about ten days—she said she worked at washing—she went out in the morning from about twelve till six—she used to take the child out—I saw it only twice while she was there—I used to talk to her about it—it was all right the first two or three days, then it used to cry—I said nothing to her about paying for the lodging, but she agreed to give me 3s. 6d. a week—I last heard the child on the Tuesday morning, and last saw it on the Monday night when she brought it home—she told me on the Saturday that she had arranged to leave it at Mrs. Whitrod's, but she did not—on the Monday night she said she had been to see Mrs. Whitrod again—she did not go out on the Tuesday night—she took the child out on the Wednesday, and she came home alone—I said, "Have you taken the baby—she said, "Yes," she had left it at Mrs. Whitrod's; it would be better cared for—I afterwards thought I should like to know how the child was going on, and I asked my husband to see about it—I did not speak to the prisoner about it—the police afterwards showed me some clothes; they were the clothes that the child used to wear—I did not see the child afterwards—my husband did.
Richmond—I saw the child about four or five times while it was with us—the last time I saw it was on the Saturday night—afterwards, on March 1st, I saw its dead body at the mortuary at Richmond, and recognised it as the body of the prisoner's child.
MARY PRIEST . I live with my husband at Garden Road, Mortlake—I have known the prisoner about two years and a half—I know her husband—she has two children by him, a girl and boy, one about six, the other about four—she called on me on January 25th—she asked if I knew of any lodging—I said I had no convenience—I knew that she had left her husband about fifteen months—she had a baby with her—she went away—I saw her again on February 22nd—she had no child with her then—she brought some baby's clothes, two nightgowns, a shirt, a head wrapper, and a shawl—she said at first she was going to take them to Mrs. Whitrod's—after a little while she said, "I don't know why I should take them to her; you can have them for your little girl if you like"—I said, "I have no money to give you," and said, "Thank you for them"—she said her baby was with Mrs. Whitrod—next day she came to my house between six and half past—I asked her if she was going to see the baby—she said "Yes," she was going to see it that night, to meet the father of the child at eight o'clock, and take the money to Mrs. Whitrod.
Cross-examined. As far as I noticed, she used to be very fond of the child.
Re-examined. The other two children are with her husband's mother; I think the husband lives with his mother.
ELIZA WHITROD . I live with my husband at 101, Prince's flood, Richmond—the prisoner called on me on the 18th February—I did not know her before—she gave me the name of Gregory—she asked me if I would take a child, and she could give 6s. a week—I told her I could not take it, and she went away—I did not see her again.
WILLIAM WALKER . I am a coachsmith, and live at Hounslow—on the morning of 21st February, about twenty minutes to seven, I was going along the towing-path at Richmond—my attention was attracted by something, and I stopped and saw a child in a ditch on the ice at the side of the old deer park—it was lying on its face; it had nothing at all on it—I did not touch it—I communicated with the police.
JOHN ADAMS (VR 22). On the early morning of the 21st February the last witness spoke to me—in consequence of what he said I went to the ditch by the side of the towing-path, and there saw the body of a child; it had no clothes on, only a white pocket-handkerchief twisted twice round the neck, and tied in one knot; it was dead—I took the body to the Police-station, where it was seen by Mr. Gardiner.
Cross-examined. There was no attempt made to conceal the body—the ice was very hard, and the child was lying on the top of it—looking to the old deer park it would be impossible to pass without seeing it.
MATTHEW HENRY GARDINER . I am a medical practitioner at Rich mond—on Thursday, 21st February, I was called to the Police-station at Richmond—I there saw the body of a female child, which I judged to be about a month old—it was perfectly naked, with the exception of a white handkerchief passed twice tightly round the neck, and knotted in a double knot—the whole neck and throat were tightly constricted—I formed the
opinion that it had been dead at least twelve hours, how many more I could not say—I, came to the conclusion that most probably it had died from suffocation by strangulation, caused by the handkerchief—I made a post-mortem examination the next day, and the internal symptoms confirmed my view of death from suffocation—externally you generally find in such cases the hands clenched, the tongue, more or less prominent, appearing right up to the teeth, or pushed up to the gum, and extremely congested and blue—as a rule the eyes are wide open and staring, the eyelids well up, and the pupils may or may not be congested, sometimes the face may be congested—that is sometimes present, sometimes not—internally you have to examine the state of the blood, and the state of congestion of the organs generally—the external appearances I have described were present in this case, the hands were tightly clenched, the tongue prominent, and the eyes wide open—I found no disease to account for death—the post-mortem appearances were in accordance with death by suffocation.
Cross-examined. The child was very emaciated—that was due to starvation—there was absolutely no food in the stomach or intestines, and hardly any fat on the body—it weighed five and a half pounds; the normal weight of a child of that age would be seven or eight pounds—it would suffer from exposure, and more so if unfed. I have never heard of a child suffering from convulsions on account of starvation and exposure—I have not met with or read of a case of the eyes becoming prominent from a handkerchief being tied round the neck after death, or the tongue becoming black; I do not speak from my own experience of such a case.
THOMAS HAWKINS (Detective V). I saw the dead body on 21st February—I made inquiries, and went to 23, Springfield Terrace, on the 24th—I there saw the prisoner; I said, "Mrs. Gregory, I think?"—she said, "Yes"—I told her I was a police-officer, and should have to arrest her for the murder of her child, the body had been discovered a few days ago—I cautioned her—she said, "My child is in Richmond"—and after a little hesitation she said, "How did you find it out? I wish I had sent it miles away"—she was brought to the station and detained there during the night—I communicated with my superior officer, and next morning she was charged in my presence.
WILLIAM PUGSLEY (Inspector V). On the morning of 25th February I was at the Police-station, at Richmond, when the prisoner was brought in—she was charged, and the charge was read over to her in my presence—she said, "I did not murder my child; it died of starvation; I lost my milk through worry; I had no money to get food, and no work"—she gave her name as Amy Gregory, a married woman, liying apart from her husband.
M. H. GARDINER (Recalled). After death from convulsions I never found the eyes to be prominent and the hands clenched; it would be impossible—I have had a good many cases of children dying from convulsions but not many post-mortem examinations.
GUILTY .—Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY, in consequence of her state of mind at the time owing to her extreme destitution.
MR. SHERWOOD Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended
CAROLINE LOCK . I am barmaid at the Prince Alfred public-house, Clapham—I knew the prisoner as a customer there; Henry Barkham was potman—on Tuesday, 26th February, I was in the bar about seven in the evening—the prisoner came in with a friend; he had a few words with Strahan, who was there; I did not take much notice of it—Mrs. Scott, the landlady, sent Barkham out for a policeman, who came—Strahan gave his name and address, and left; the prisoner came back in a few minutes and asked for whisky—I refused to serve him, on account of his having had a few words with the customer; Barkham was then outside, standing by the side of the prisoner; he turned and struck Barkham in the face with his hand; he had done nothing; he went out, I suppose for a constable; the prisoner followed him—two or three minutes afterwards I went out, and saw Barkham lying in the roadway, his face covered with blood—he was brought in by Strahan and Partridge; he never recovered consciousness—when I went out I did not notice the state of the road—I don't know whether Barkham had said or done anything to the prisoner before this; I think not; I saw nothing—I think they knew each other; they seemed good friends up to this time—Barkham was quite sober.
Cross-examined. It was not because the prisoner was drunk that I refused to serve him, but on account of his having had a few words, and he had been drinking—the landlady told me not to serve him, because he was the worse for drink—I don't know whether he had been a customer; I have only been there two months—he has borne the character of a peaceable man—there is a greengrocer's shop next to the Prince Alfred; there is always a good deal of green refuse outside it—I have never seen Barkham put people out; he was not a "chucker-out"—I never saw the prisoner quarrel with anyone before.
THOMAS STRAHAN . I am a grainer, and live at 65, Brommell's Road, Clapham—on February 26th, between six and seven, I went to the Prince Alfred—I saw the prisoner there; I had known him before—I did not see him come in; I was in the cellar—when I came up the prisoner was in the bar with a friend—I did not hear him ask for something to drink—I was looking at an almanac; he came up and said, "What are you looking at?" I said, "I am just having a look down;" he said, "You are listening to me;" I said, "I was not, mind your own business;" he kept on abusing me—I took no notice; I called for a glass of ale—he said he was a much better man than I, and pushed me—the landlady said she would not have the customers insulted, and wished him to leave the house; he would not—he was not sober—I refused to be drawn into a quarrel with him—the landlady told Barkham to fetch a policeman—the prisoner caught hold of Barkham and pushed him down on his back in the bar—Barkham got up, went through the bar, got over the counter and went for the policeman Bridge, and returned with him—Barkham did not say or do anything to the prisoner; he simply obeyed his orders—the constable took his name and address, and the prisoner said, "Is that all you require?"—the constable said, "Yes"—he gave Barkham a paper, which he put in his pocket—the constable then went out; the prisoner followed him; I remained—the
prisoner returned about seven; I was writing a note for the landlady—he called for some whisky; the barmaid refused to serve him—the prisoner said to Barkham, "I will hit you on the nose," and he struck him in the face with the back of his hand—Barkham immediately left the house, as I thought for a policeman; the prisoner followed him, and about a minute after I went to the door and looked out, and saw them both lying on the ground in front of the greengrocer's, Barkham on his back—as he rose the prisoner struck him three times on the head with his fist—I heard no words—I went to Barkham—before I got up to him the prisoner had gone—Barkham's face was covered with blood—I and Partridge took him into the public-house at 7.10—I left him there, and went for a constable—I did not notice the state of the road; it was dry; it is an ordinary granite road, no gravel or flint stones—Barkham did nothing to provoke the prisoner—he never spoke.
Cross-examined. I did not notice any vegetable refuse, or any ice; it was a little dark, but the shops were lighted—Barkham was lying about six feet from the kerb—I don't think it was very frosty.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE . I live in Brommell's Road, Clapham, and am assistant to Mr. Worth, next to the Prince Alfred—on February 26th, about ten minutes to seven, as I was coming to serve a customer, two men ran past me—I did not notice who they were—I heard a fall, and went into the road, and saw Barkham lying in the road—he did not move; I shook him, he made no answer—I went over to Dr. Atkins; he was not in—when I came back I helped Strahan to carry Barkham into the bar—the prisoner had walked away; as he did so I heard him say, "Now lie there and die"—when I saw them on the ground, one was on his knee and the other on his back; the one on his knee struck the other once with his fist—I noticed the road; there was a basket in the gutter outside our shop; it was one of the master's baskets; nothing happened to that.
Cross-examined. There were no vegetables lying about—the ground was not slippery, it was dry; there was no ice or anything about.
ANN INGOLD . I am the wife of Charles Ingold, labourer, of 93, Wurtemberg Street, near Brommell's Road, Clapham—I have known Stonnell since he was a month old—I saw him about 7 p.m. on the 26th March, after tea-time, against the Wurtemberg Arms—he came across the road and spoke to me—I asked him what he had got dirt on his coat for—the dirt was all down his side—he said he bad been falling down, fighting—I asked, "Who with?"—he said, "Harry Barkham"—I asked who he was—he said, "The potman at Scott's"—I knew Scott as the proprietor of a public-house—he said he believed he had killed him—I said, "You are only joking; go home"—he said it was no good going home, because they would have him before he got there—I went off to Scott's to see if it was right—I saw over the partition Barkham lying there—I could not say whether he was sober.
Cross-examined. The prisoner bore the character of a quiet, peaceable man.
FREDERICK BRIDGE (W 667). On Tuesday, February 26th, I was called to the Prince Alfred public-house, about 6.45 p.m., by Barkham—I went into the bar and saw Stonnell—I took his name and address—he said he had been assaulted in the High Street—I went again in the evening, and saw Barkham lying on a seat in the public bar, bleeding from
his head—I got assistance, and sent for medical aid—on returning from Clapham Common the doctor pronounced life extinct, about seven—Barkham's clothes and face were saturated with blood—I went and searched for the prisoner, and found him at the Rose and Crown, Wurtemberg Street—I told him I should take him into custody for causing the death of Henry Barkham—he then cried—on conveying him to the station he said, "I struck him three times on the head. I left him lying on the kerb on the ground. I was not going to be assaulted by a little devil like him"—the prisoner was under the influence of drink—when the charge was taken at the station he said, "I am a murderer"—the weather was a little damp, no frost.
MICHAEL KEEN (Detective W). On February 26th I visited Brommell's Road, shortly after eight p.m.—I saw blood-stains on the road about forty yards from the Prince Alfred and about six feet from the kerb opposite; the draper's and greengrocers shops were open—the blood was on the opposite side near the draper's, and 11 feet from the main road, and from the greengrocer's six or seven yards—the road is fairly good, not paved, made with crushed stone—there was no frost; the road was not slippery—there were refuse and things about three or four yards from the blood, but the other side the road—I saw Stonnell at the Police-station shortly after eight—there was mud on his coat, and a scratch on his right thumb and finger, which seemed to be recently done—there was a dark stain on his clothes.
PATRICK READ (Inspector). When I told Stonnell at the Police-station I should charge him with the murder of Henry "Barkham he said, "Is he dead?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Then I am a murderer"—he had been drinking.
ARTHUR DORRIN . I live at 344, Clapham Road—I am a divisional police surgeon—on Tuesday, 26th February, I was taken to the mortuary to see Henry Barkham—the body was not quite cold; he had not been dead more than a couple of hours—he was dressed at the time—his clothes were covered with blood, so was his face—there was also a lot of dried dust or mud on the clothes—I subsequently made a post-mortem examination—there were one or two external marks of violence, a bruise over the right eye, a lacerated wound about an inch in extent just under the right eye, and an abrasion of the skin on the left knee—on each side of the body there was blood—the wound under the eye had the appearance of being caused by blows with a ring perhaps on the fist—it was distinctly a heavy blow, sufficient to knock a man down—there were no other marks of violence externally—the blood would all wash off, and evidently came from the wound under the eye and from the nose—I expect he had a blow on the nose as well—there were no marks of any bruise, but I expect the blood came from it—the immediate cause of death was extravasated blood and pressure on the brain—the primary cause of death was fracture of the skull and extravasation—the body was wellnourished; he was a fairly healthy, strong man—his skull would be loosened by the blow—a contact with something blunt—a fall on the road might cause the blow
Cross-examined. A man jumping over a basket and then falling on the street might in some cases have caused the blow, but there are no signs of a fall from the state of the fracture—I should say the blow was not caused
by contact with the road—there are one or two strong reasons against such a theory—that might have caused a bruise to the eye, but the wound was under the eye—the wound under the eye was not the cause of death—a fall after quick running might have caused extravasation, which was the cause of death—he had a drunkard's liver.
Re-examined. I could not say if he was sober when he died—there was no smell of alcohol when I made the post-mortem examination—my reasons against the theory of a fall being the cause of death are, if the fracture had been the result of a fall I should have expected to find external marks of violence—I found none, only what we call gravel rash—then the injury on the left knee rather shows he fell on the left side, not on the right—the fracture was on the right.
The prisoner received the character of a peaceable, well-conducted man.
GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective-Sergeant L). On the afternoon of March 7th I was in Temple Street, Lambeth, with Sergeant Gray, and saw the prisoner and another man come from 17, Temple Street—I spoke to Riley—he said, "All right, I suppose this is a putting away business"—he tried to get his hand into his jacket pocket—I said. "What have you got there?"—he said, "I don't know"—I took it out and found eight counterfeit florins wrapped in tissue paper, with a layer of paper between each—I said, "Where did you get them?"—he said, "I just picked them up in the road"—I afterwards went with Sergeant Gray to 17, Temple Street, and found six counterfeit coins in the woman's pocket (See next case), folded in tissue paper—she was taken to the station, and the prisoner said, "What do you want to charge this woman for? I gave them to her."
Prisoner's defence. I picked the coins up in Clerkenwell, and went into a house and asked if they were good; they said, "They are not, take them out of the house." I am innocent.
GUILTY (see next case).
MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BROGDEN (Detective-Sergeant L). On March 7th, about three p.m., I was with Sergeant Gray in Temple Street, Lambeth, and saw two men leave No. 17—we took them both to the station, and found on one eight counterfeit coins, wrapped up separately in tissue paper—I went back to the house with Gray, and found this prisoner occupying the back
room—I told him we were police-officers, and searched the room—not finding any counterfeit coin, Gray asked her to turn her pockets out—she handed him a purse—he said, "Is that all you have got?"—she said, "No, I am going to search myself"—I put my hand in her pocket, and found these coins in tissue paper—she said, "Now you have got it"—I had opened the packet—she was taken to the station, and charged separately—she made no reply; but the prisoner Riley (see last case), who was present, said, "What do you want to charge that woman for? I gave them to her"—she said, "Hold your noise"—I understood that they were living together as man and wife in the name of Riley, but I knew her as Mrs. Turner, in Temple Street, living with a man named Turner for some years—I have only known her personally for two months, and he resided in the same street.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. You lived in Temple Street, opposite the house you live in now.
Prisoner's defence. The man told me to mind them, and I told him to take them away.
GUILTY .—She then
PLEADED GUILTY** to a conviction at Manchester on February 27th, 1893, in the name of Ada Johnson, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.— Three Years' Penal Servitude. WILLIAM RILEY— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. MUIR Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
DANIEL DUNNING . I am landlord of the Horse and Groom, a fully licensed house at Twickenham—before these proceedings I did not know the defendant—on 16th January I received this letter: "Langham Cottage, Twickenham, 15th January.—SIR,—As Mr. Mitchell's claim on Mr. C. Read, who to your knowledge and connivance used your house for making bets is totally disregarded. I as the chief creditor, give you due notice that unless such claim be paid by Friday next at mid-day I shall take steps to lay the matter before the Scotland Yard authorities, as I for one do not intend to be defrauded with impunity.—Yours truly, THOMAS STANLEY."—I put it in my pocket—I know Mr. Read—I showed it to him afterwards—I did not reply to it—I was not frightened at its threats—I received this letter of 21st January from Stanley to the witness [asking for Reads address, and stating] "as otherwise the warrant must be made returnable through yourself"—I paid no attention to that—I afterwards received a communication from Mr. Cole, the brewer, my landlord, who showed me this letter of 31st January [From Stanley to Cole, marked "Private and confidential" and stating that the Horse and Groom had been used for betting with Dunning's "full permission and connivance" who had not even acknowledged Stanley's letters, that on the 2nd January"we won close on
£10, and on applying for the money were told it was not forthcoming," and "I only thought it right to acquaint you with the circumstances before pressing the matter to a climax"]—in consequence of what Mr. Cole said, I put the matter into the hands of my solicitor—the letter of the 4th of February written to the solicitor is the same writing and signature [stating that letters were privileged].
Cross-examined. I did not connive at the betting—the defendant knows Mitchell and Sage, who are customers—the defendant may have lived in the neighbourhood—Mr. Cornwall, the solicitor for the Licensed Victuallers' Protection Society, accepted Stanley's apology, but the Chairman of the Justices said the case must go on—I did not know Read's address; I do now—Read was only a customer—Mitchell inquired for him; Sage did not.
GUILTY .— To enter into recognisances of £100 to come up for judgment when called upon, and to pay the costs of the prosecution.
MR. ELLIOTT Prosecuted, and MR. WARBURTON Defended Briggs.
LOUISA FLACK . I am a cook at the Sutton Hotel, Sutton—on 26th February, about 9.30 p.m., I was travelling second-class from Victoria to Sutton—I was alone till the prisoners got into the carriage at Clapham Junction—I was then sitting on the left-hand side—Briggs sat immediately on my right, and Anderson close to him—when they got out at Wandsworth Common Briggs drew my attention to my ticket on the window-sill, where I had laid it before they got in—when I got to Sutton I missed my purse—I had last seen it between Victoria and Clapham Junction—it contained a sovereign, 7s. silver, and some coppers—I spoke to the porter about it at Sutton Station, and in consequence of what he said I went back to Clapham Junction, and came back to Wandsworth Common, where I had an interview with the station-master—from what he said I walked to Balham Station, where I waited to go back to Sutton, when William Renno, the porter, came in the train and beckoned to the ticket collector—the prisoners were in the front carriage—I accused Briggs of taking my purse—he at first denied it, but afterwards said he was hard up, and would return me 30s. if I did not have him locked up—Anderson was by his side, but got away, and the porter brought him back—before he got away he accused Briggs of taking the purse, and Briggs accused him—I gave Briggs in charge—both of them said they had taken the money and thrown the purse away, and they would give me 30s.—I had carried my purse in my right-hand side pocket.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. The prisoners were coming from Wandsworth Common to Balham when I was waiting on the platform—the porter was present when the prisoners made their statement—I had placed my purse in my pocket, and put my ticket on the sill so that I should not forget it—I had taken my purse out before I came to Clapham Junction, not on the platform at Victoria, but coming from Victoria—I was rather confused, and Briggs might have said, "I did not steal the purse; my mate picked it up on the seat"—he first said
that, but afterwards he accused his mate—I have not said so, because I never thought of it.
WILLIAM RENNO . I am a porter at the Wands worth Common Station on the Brighton Railway—the prisoners and another gentleman alighted there from the 9.26 train, which leaves Victoria at 9.13—the prisoners left the station—I afterwards saw Flack, who made a communication to the station-master and me, in consequence of which I watched the train in from the Crystal Palace—the prisoners came in that train with tickets from the Crystal Palace to Balham, paid excess fare, and asked me the next train for Streatham Hill—they entered the train going to Balham and Streatham—I informed the station-master, and in consequence of what he said I got in the train at Balham—I saw Flack standing on the platform—I beckoned to her, and she came up—I asked her in the prisoners' hearing, "Are these the two gentlemen who took, your purse?"—she said "Yes" directly—Briggs went to the lady, and said he would give her 30s.; he was very sorry, but he picked the purse up on the seat—she said "No, I'll let the law take its own course"—Anderson was walking with us towards the gate, and I informed the porter there I was going to fetch the station-master, when he ran down the staircase and got out of the station—I ran after him through some streets; a gentleman gave me a ride in a trap—when I got up to him he jumped over a garden wall and another wall which separates two houses; I followed—he banged through a side gate; I pushed through the gate and caught him—he said, "All right, I'll give in"—I brought him back to the station, and saw him in custody—at the station one of the prisoners said he threw the purse away.
Cross-examined by MR. WARBURTON. I was not asked before the Magistrate what he said at the Police-station—I never heard Briggs say "I did not steal the purse; my mate picked it up on the seat"—I saw Bainsey with Briggs.
WILLIAM BAINSEY (569 V). I saw Briggs on the platform by the side of the prosecutrix, who accused him of stealing her purse—he said, "I did not steal the purse; my mate found it on the seat"—Renno was not present then—when Anderson was brought by the porter about a minute after, Flack accused them with being concerned in stealing the purse—Anderson said, "I did not steal it; my mate found it on the seat"—I asked them what they had done with the purse—Anderson replied, "We threw it away."
GUILTY .—They also
PLEADED GUILTY to another indictment for stealing a purse and money of Charles Donkin, from Ethel Margaret Donkin on the South Eastern Railway; also to convictions, Briggs in the name of Alfred Smith, at Lambeth, in February, 1893, and Anderson, at Newington Sessions, of felony in March, 1893. BRIGGS*— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. ANDERSON*— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. Briggs having had£1 8s. 6d., and Anderson £1 11s. 6 1/2 d. upon them, they were ordered each to pay a moiety of what the prosecutrix lost to her.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
348. WILLIAM CONNORS (26), and RICHARD STEVENS (28), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a shirt, the property of Henry Burr; also to burglary in the dwelling-house of Arthur Wiltshire, and stealing socks and other articles. Stevens also
PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in January, 1894.
Seven other convictions were proved against Stevens. STEVENS**— Three Years' Penal Servitude. CONNORS†— Six Months' Hard Labour.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, April 22nd, 1895
The following Prisoners, upon whom the sentence of the Court was respited at the time of Trial, have since been sentenced as under:—
Page. Vol. cxxi. Sentence.