CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
NINTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 17TH, 1895
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE
REVISED AND EDITED BY
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ., Q.C.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
STEVENS AND SONS, LIMITED, 119, CHANCERY LANE,
Law Booksellers and Publishers.
on the Queen's Commission of
OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, June 17th, 1895, and following days.
BEFORE the RIGHT HON. SIR JOSEPH RENALS, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; the Hon. Sir ROBERT SAMUEL WRIGHT , Knt., one of the Justice of Her Majesty's High Court; Sir REGINALD HANSON , Bart., M.P., Sir JAMES WHITEHEAD , Bart., Sir DAVID EVANS , K.C.M.G., Aldermen of the said City; Sir CHARLES HALL , Q.C., M.P., K.C.M.G., Recorder of the said City; Colonel Sir WALTER WILKIN , Knt., Lieut.-Col. HORATIO DAVID DAVIES , Esq., JOHN POUND , Esq., WALTER VAUGHAN MORGAN , Esq., WILLIAM PURDIE TRELOAR, Esq., JOHN CHARLES BELL , Esq., and GEORGE WYATT TRUSCOTT , Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; and Sir FORREST FULTON, Knt., Q.C., Common Serjeant of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer And Terminer and General Gaol Delivery, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
RENALS, MAYOR. NINTH 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, June 17th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. C.F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MESSRS. MURPHY, Q.C.,
LYNCH AND DRAKE Defended.
FRANCIS ALWRIGHT (Detective B). I have had some experience in preparing plans—on 12th October I went to 18, Ulster Place, and made a survey of the ground floor—the front-door is a few steps up from the street—just inside the hall door there is a pair of swing-doors—the hall is paved with tiles; on the right hand facing the street is a front room 19 ft. by 13ft.—the staircase is close to the door of that room—I made this plan; it is correct, and to scale; these tracings are correct.
ALFRED SAVILLE . I live at 136, Maida Vale—I have been a book-maker for many years—I first saw the prisoner about four or five years ago, when he was introduced to me at the Cafe Royal—I met him once after that at Covent Garden early in the morning—I had no conversation with him beyond some passing observation—I know Arthur Cockburn; he attends race meetings—on the night of 30th September last year I met Cockburn at the Criterion—I subsequently went with him to a club in Regent Street—about a quarter of an hour before we left there I saw the prisoner—I did not speak to him, but he and Cockburn were chatting at the bar—Cockburn and I left the club at two or half-past two—the prisoner came out at the same time—Cockburn called up his cab—Taylor said to him "I am going your way; will you give me a lift?"; Cockburn said, "Jump in"—I knew nothing of Ulster Place up to then—I had a parcel of game and fish on the top of the cab—I live next door but one to Cockburn at Maida Vale—when we got near Ulster Place the prisoner invited us in to have a drink; and we three all got out of the cab and went into 18, Ulster Place—we went into the dining-room, and sat down there—we drank Scotch whisky and soda—the prisoner, Cockburn, and myself were there—the prisoner said he was very sorry he had been taken down to Margate, and he did not know they were friends of Cockburn or he
would never have gone down—they had a chat, and Cockburn said, "I am very glad to hear it," and they shook hands—that was the sort of conversation that took place; it was quiet—after that the prisoner went out of the room—when he came back he brought a friend whom he introduced by the name of Woodward—I had never seen him before, and knew nothing of him—he appeared to be an American by the way he spoke; he was dressed in a suit of pajamas; I could not tell whether he had been in bed or not—Woodward and I had another whisky and soda together—there were then four of us together in the room—the prisoner went out of the room again for a little time, and then came back again—the card case then came up in conversation again; I cannot say how it came up—they were all three talking about it—I noticed the prisoner and Woodward were looking very fierce at Cockburn, and in consequence of that I got up and went to the back of Cock burn's chair, and said, "Surely you are not going to two him," meaning two were not going to set on to one—when I said that I was struck on the left side of the head above the ear, and knocked down almost insensible—I could not say who struck the blow, it was done so very quickly—I got up as soon as I could—I was bleeding—I then saw that Cockburn was lying on the floor on the right hand side of the table, which was in the centre of the room—Woodward was nearest to me on my right, the prisoner was on the right also, but he stood behind Woodward—the prisoner made for me, and I made for him, and Woodward knocked me down again by a blow on the right hand side—I bled as the result of that blow—I was bleeding then from both sides of the head—I should think those were blows with something more than a fist—when I was on the ground the second time as the result of the blow both Woodward and Taylor picked me up and carried me out into the passage—in doing so they had to pass Cockburn, who was lying on the floor—when in the passage Woodward opened the door and pushed me out, and then I heard the chain put up and the door locked—the last I saw of Cockburn was lying on the floor in the dining-room—when I was outside the cabman and the constable came—we tried to get in through the door; I kicked at the door—I did not hear Cockburn's voice while the door was shut—I could not say if the policeman whistled for assistance—the policeman went into the house through the area—the door was afterwards opened—at that time I heard Cockburn say, "Let me get up"—before the policeman got in I saw a woman come up the area steps—I had not seen any woman while I was in the house—she appeared to be dressed—the cabman who came up was Sutton, who drove Cockburn—I went to the police-station, where I was seen by the divisional-surgeon—I went home—next day I was seen by Mr. Davison, my own doctor—I lost a great deal of blood—I remained in bed four or five days, and after that I suffered for a fortnight or three weeks from the effects of these wounds—I afterwards gave evidence at the Police-court, and the prisoner was committed for trial at the November Sessions.
Cross-examined. I have known Cockburn seven years—I have spent many evenings with him—I cannot say that two or three a.m. is an unusual time for us to go home—we have some drink and chat—we had not drunk more than usual that evening—I had only met the prisoner once before—I and Cockburn met him at a social club in Regent Street
that evening—no betting went on there—Cockburn and the prisoner seemed to be on perfectly good terms at that time, and when we all three went home in a cab—I should think the prisoner had had a drink or so, a reasonable drink—we took some more drink, whisky and soda, in the room—I had two—then the question of cards got up—I could not say who first spoke about them; it came up in ordinary conversation—Taylor said he was very sorry he was taken down, and he did not know they were friends of Cockburn, or he would never have gone down—that was all they talked about—I could not tell you who began it, or how it began—it was ordinary conversation—I think we drank each other's good health first—after that the prisoner left the room—he was dressed in a frock coat and a double-breasted white waistcoat, to the best of my belief—I would not swear he was not in evening dress clothes, but, to the best of my knowledge, he had a frock coat on—I could not say if he had dress shoes on—Woodward was in pyjamas—I did not see anything in the hands of either of them when they came down—the drinks then went on, and I saw something fierce in the looks of the prisoner and Woodward, as if there was going to be a bother—they got angry about arguing the card case—Cockburn, Woodward, and the prisoner argued—I could not exactly say what was said—I understood what was going on; I was getting rather tired of it, and sleepy; I wanted to get home—while the argument was going on I suddenly sprang up—I did not look very fierce—Woodward was next to me—I don't know who struck me—I did not see Cockburn spring up; he was sitting on a chair—I swear he did not spring up at the same time as I did—I was knocked down in a moment—I do not say that Cockburn remained seated when I was knocked down—Cockburn is not a more formidable sort of antagonist when angry than an ordinary man—I don't know how many times he has been convicted of assaults—I never heard, until I was at the Police-court, of his appearing at different Police-courts for having committed violent assaults—he is a strong man—I don't know his weight—it was three weeks after it happened before I was at the races again—the first I went to were at the Alexandra Park, on a Saturday—I and Cockburn drove there together in a cab—I heard nothing said about our staying all night at Ulster Place, and having a game.
Re-examined. I have no difficulty in remembering what took place that night—nothing was said to me or Cockburn about staying all night.
By the COURT. I had some fish and game on the top of the cab—I meant to take them home—Woodward was about 5ft. 10in., rather broad-shouldered, and about thirty-live years old.
ARTHUR COCKBURN . I live at 132, Maida Vale, next door but one to Mr. Saville—I follow racing as a commission agent—I first saw the prisoner at Margate five years ago, I should think—I was with a party of friends staying at an hotel there—he came down with Wellens—that was the first time I saw him—I knew nothing of him then—Wellens introduced him to all of our party—on the day the prisoner came down we shot in a gallery—in the evening he was with us at the White Hart Hotel, and we played cards for a little while—the prisoner played—after a time we ceased playing—the next day the prisoner and Wellens left Margate, I think—I saw them in the morning, but not afterwards—on my return to town I saw the prisoner about four or five times—until I
met him at the club in Regent Street on the night of 30th September I had not met him to have any conversation with him, except "good morning" or to acknowledge him when I saw him—on the night 30th September I was at this club when Saville was there—shortly before I left the club I saw the prisoner there, and we spoke, and had a drink together—it was mentioned that we had had a little game of cards at Margate—I think I mentioned it—he said something about it was not his fault, playing cards with strangers, and so on—he was a stranger to me at that time—I did not lose anything—we played at baccarat, and black and red at Margate—I left the club with Saville, and as we were getting into the cab the prisoner came downstairs; there was no cab there for him, and he asked which way we were going—I said we were going to Maida Vale—he said, "You go my way," and so I offered him a ride—when we got to Ulster Place he invited us to have a drink, and I and Saville went with him into the house and into the dining-room, and sat down, and had playing incident may have been mentioned, as it was before, and the prisoner said it was not his fault, he was brought down by Wellens—I could not tell you now what I said then—the prisoner went out of the room and came back with Woodward, whom I had never seen before—he was dressed in pyjamas, I believe—I think the prisoner had on a black frock coat, I am not certain—after that the prisoner left the room again—I had said nothing about staying there all night—after little time he came back, and the four of us were there then—I do not think the card-playing was referred to again, but the prisoner struck me on the left cheek, when I was sitting down at the table—I fell off the chair—I could not say whether it was a blow with a fist, or some instrument; I did not see anything in his hand—I think he kicked me, when I was on the ground—I felt something, and my jaw was broken—I remember nothing after that—up to the time he struck me, I had not said anything to him to invite an assault; I had had no quarrel with him—I had not accused him during that evening of cheating at cards—I saw some swords on the walls of the dining-room—when I recovered consciousness I was in the hospital—I lost some blood—I was in the hospital nine or ten days, and after that I called to see the doctor four or perhaps five times at the hospital—there is now just a small abscess outside my jaw, where it was broken—I had two black eyes, a cut on the eyebrow, and a little cut on the left cheek—When I was well enough I gave evidence at the Police-court; the prisoner was committed for trial and admitted to bail—I did not see Woodward after he was committed for trial.
Cross-examined. I have seen the prisoner five or six times since I met him at Margate—I was not on any unfriendly terms with him—there was no unpleasantness in my mind, or in his, so far as I know—those were the terms on which we started in the cab, I understood—I think that any conversation between us as to what occurred at Margate was after we got to his house—I offered him a seat home—I did not know, till he said it was his way home where he lived, and I don't think he knew where I lived—there was more drinking when we got to his house—I had been to two or three places before we went to his house—I had dined at the Cafe Royal, and then gone to the Empire—I had not been to the Victoria
Club—I went to the American bar at the Criterion—I had not been heavily drinking—I did not know Woodward before—I saw nothing in the prisoner's hand at any time—after he had brought in Woodward and spoken to the cabman, either the prisoner mentioned the Margate incident again, or I did, in a casual way—I cannot enlighten you very well as to how it was alluded to, because I don't know who mentioned it—we were only talking about it—nothing particular was said about it—I cannot say how the conversation came about—I was not drunk—Saville jumped up and made some remark about "You are not going to two him," or something like that—I was then sitting on a chair—when Saville said that, I was hit, and fell off the chair—I did not jump up, I am perfectly sure—I did not think there were menacing looks, or I should have jumped up—I did not have time to see anything fierce in their faces; I was knocked off the chair—it is not my habit to wait to be struck—I should know what to do if I thought people were going to strike me—I have been convicted of assaults about five times, I think, in about fourteen years—I have not been convicted five times within the last six or seven years—the last assault was on a Justice of the Peace; I was fined £5 for being present and looking on when someone else assaulted him—that was at Manchester the year before last—I have had a trial of strength with Charley Mitchell, whose name is pretty well known—I did not win—I prosecuted him, and then withdrew the prosecution—I had the worst of it—I did not shake hands with him before it began—I shook hands with the prisoner in the course of the evening before anything happened to me—I did not notice what boots or shoes he was wearing—I do not think he was in evening dress—I think he had a frock coat—I will not go beyond thinking; I did not pay particular attention—when Saville jumped up and said something I did not jump up—I did not conduct myself so as to let the prisoner think that he was in some peril—I did not strike at him—I sat like a lamb to be struck—I had no time to be warned that someone was going to two me.
Re-examined. I had no reason to suppose I was going to be struck before I was struck—I lost no money over the Margate incident—I won a little at the shooting, and the prisoner paid me.
WILLIAM SUTTON . I am a licensed hansom cab driver—I have driven Cockburn for several years on and off—on the night of 30th September I was waiting for him at this club—he came out with Mr. Saville and the prisoner—something was said about Regent's Park being on the way to Maida Vale, and they all got in the cab—I had some game and fish on the top—when I reached Ulster Place I was directed to stop by a stick, and I stopped at the house and they went in—after I had waited some time the prisoner came out to my cab and said to me, "Here you are, cabman, here is 4s. 6d. for your fare; my friend is going to stop the night"—I took the money and went on a little distance and drew up—when he spoke to me a policeman was walking there on his beat—I spoke to the policeman, and I waited there—a policeman came and spoke to me and I got out of my cab and went to No. 18, where I saw Mr. Saville on the doorsteps—I and the policeman went on to the doorsteps and I heard Mr. Cockburn say inside the house, "Let me get up; don't kick me"—I kicked at the door, and called out to them to open the door—the constable
blew his whistle—a woman came to the area door, and then the constable went into the house—I remained on the steps till the street door was opened on the chain, and then I looked into the hall and saw Cockburn inside lying on his face on the mat about three feet from the hall door—he had a gash down his face, and three or four cuts on his head, and a bit of bone sticking out, and was bleeding profusely—I saw Woodward at the foot of the stairs; he had blood on his clothing—I and the constable lifted Cockburn up and put him in my cab, and I drove him to the station, where I saw the prisoner—he had blood on his cuffs, and on his shirt and waistcoat, as far as I can remember—I had not seen the prisoner or Woodward before to my knowledge.
Cross-examined. I was waiting about twenty minutes, or it might have been half an hour, before the prisoner came out to me with the money—it might have been fifteen or twenty minutes after that when Saville came out, I could not say exactly—I did not hear the woman calling out to the police to come in—she came and opened the gate to the policeman; I did not hear her calling for the police before that, because I was a bit excited at the time, I daresay.
By the COURT. I had driven Cockburn for twelve or thirteen years altogether on and off—I had been driving him all that day, and 4s. 6d. was not my fare; I took it as a present—that was what I thought it was.
RODERICK MATHERSON (136 D). I was on duty in the Marylebone Road on the morning of 1st October—when on my beat I noticed Sutton at 18, Ulster Place, and was speaking to him when I saw a man come out of 18, Ulster Place, and I just moved away a few yards, and heard a man say, "This is your fare; you need not wait; your gentleman is to remain with me to-night"—he then went back into the house, and the cabman drew up two or three doors further on, and spoke to me—I went round my beat, and, coming back to the same place, in about ten minutes I saw Mr. Saville thrown out of No. 18 on to his hands and knees—the door was closed behind him—I went up to him—he was bleeding very much from the head—I rang the bell and knocked with the door knocker—I heard a voice in the house saying, "Get me a pistol and I will shoot him"—I called the cabman—I blew my whistle for assistance—we entered the house by the area door—a lady came to the area gate—I went up into the hall, where I saw Cockburn, lying face downwards at the back of the hall door, in a pool of blood; I could not see what condition he was in—I saw the prisoner and Woodward in the hall, and asked for an explanation of how it happened—the prisoner said, "I want you, constable, to get this man out of my house"—the hall door was then chained and locked, and covered with blood—Freeman undid the chain—I went into the front room—I told the prisoner he would have to go to the station; it was a case that would require to be settled there—he said—"Oh, no, constable, it is not necessary"—I spoke to Woodward as to going to the station in the prisoner's presence—Woodward made no reply—in the front dining-room I saw these two cutlasses (produced) lying on the ground, about half a foot; from the table—the woman said in the presence of the prisoner and Woodward, "Those are the swords they were fighting with"—there was blood on the floor of that room close to the swords, and in the hall, and on the
front door—there were marks of blood on the swords as if they had been taken up by someone who had blood on his fingers—there were no marks of blood on them as if they had been used in cutting—Cockburn was carried into the cab outside—when charged as the station Woodward said, "They were not fighting with swords"—Taylor said nothing.
Cross-examined. The prisoner, Woodward, Cockburn, and Saville, seemed to have been drinking heavily—the prisoner said it was not necessary for him to go to the station; he did not say that it was not necessary as he did not intend to prefer any charge—I could not say if the woman is the prisoner's wife—I suppose steps have been taken to ascertain if she is; I have not taken steps—she did not call for the police—I was knocking at the door and ringing to get in—the prisoner did not say he had been defending himself, and that what he had done was in selfdefence—there were some broken glasses in the room—I did not notice any bottles—a mantelpiece vase was broken, and I believe a drinking bottle, but I did not see it—it seemed to me as if the glasses had been broken in a scuffle—the prisoner's hand was not badly cut; it was cut—it was not bleeding much; his hands were all covered with blood, but not from the cut—I thought it was a slight cut, and did not go anywhere near the bone—I did not think much of it—when I spoke to the woman the prisoner and Woodward was standing alongside her, between the dining-room and the hall door.
Re-examined. I could not say which of the prisoner's hands was cut.
HENRY FREEMAN (Constable D). I heard a whistle and went to 18, Ulster Place, where I saw Matherson—I saw a woman come up the area steps, and we went in by the area door and up into the hall—there I saw Cockburn lying on his face near the street door—the prisoner was standing near the door of the room, and Woodward was by the staircase—I saw blood on both of them—the prisoner said to Matherson that he wanted that man put outside, pointing to Cockburn—I told Woodward he would have to go to the station with us—that was in his bedroom; I waited while he changed his clothes.
Cross-examined. The prisoner was in dress-clothes, but his coat was off—he had pumps on—I saw two or three broken bottles on the floor of the room—on the table was a whisky bottle three parts full—a china vase was broken—I did not ask the prisoner what he wanted Cockburn put outside for; I rushed upstairs after Woodward at the time—I was close by the prisoner in the hall when he said he wanted Cockburn put outside—I made no search in the house; I believe the inspector did—the prisoner and Woodward were taken to the station at once.
Re-examined. I undid the chain and opened the door before I went upstairs after Woodward—the chain was up when I unlocked the door—for a short time the chain was up, and then I opened the door.
GABRIEL HAWKINS (134 D). On this morning I was in Ulster Place—I saw Saville thrown outside the door; he was lying on his face and hands when I came up to him—the door was closed immediately after he was put outside—I heard a man's voice inside the house say, "Get me my pistol; I will shoot him"—I heard no screams—I went into the area, and the door was opened to us—I went with Cockburn to the station in the cab; I helped to lift him in.
came up the area, said, "This way," or some words to that effect; she did not call out "police."
THOMAS BROWNING (Inspector D). I was at the station when the charge was taken against the prisoner and Woodward—about an hour after I went to the house and into the front room; at that time it had been arranged and cleared up, except for a broken bottle on the table and broken glass on the floor—I saw two cutlasses in the hall hanging against the wall, and I noticed a place for two others—Saville, in my presence, said to Crawford, "I don't know which of the two did it; one of them done it; it was a cowardly act."
CORAM JAMES . I am a surgeon of 16, Clare Street, and am divisional surgeon of the D Division—I was called to the station to see Cockburn and Saville—I examined Cockburn first—he was in a state of collapse, suffering from a broken jaw, there was a contusion of the right eye, the eyelid was split—the severity of the injuries was such that I applied temporary dressing and had him removed to the hospital on an ambulance—the injury to the jaw might have been caused by a kick—there was an incised wound on the cheek, a cut, it was about one-third of an inch in depth, and about two inches in length—I have been unable to find the notes I made at the time—the wound on the cheek would be caused by something sharp—I examined Saville; his injuries were very severe; he had lost a great quantity of blood from the important wound, which was about four inches long, over the left side of the head above the ear, extending right down to the bone, and marking the bone—he had another injury on the left forehead, a slighter one, about an inch long—there was a mark on the face as well—the severe wound on the left side must have been caused by a blow with some instrument, it could not have been caused by a fist—it was a direct blow—the injuries to Cockburn were very serious, and dangerous at the time—they had both lost a great deal of blood—it must have been a very violent blow to have caused the fracture of the jaw—I saw the cutlasses—there were marks on the handles I think of both, a kind of smearing—I should say the wounds I saw were not such as would be caused by the cutlasses—the blow on Saville's face was severe, that might have been caused by a fist.
Cross-examined. It would have to be a very severe blow by a fist to break the jaw, it would be a very uncommon thing; it was at the strongest part of the jaw, I could not say it would be impossible—a blow with a sharp ring would not account for the wound on Saville's head, it was about four inches long; it could not have been caused by a fall on broken glass—I examined the prisoner hand, there was a cut on the knuckle, a split wound; I should consider it a split of the skin. (The witness was directed to examine the prisoner's hand)—that is the wound—I did not see any inquiry to the tendons at the time, the scar would remain—it did not extend to the bone; there is now only evidence of a breaking of the skin—I should say the bone was not broken.
Re-examined. On October 1st at the Police-court I noticed the mark on Taylor's hand—I believe I said that it was the sixteenth of an inch deep—he had no other injury.
MR. LOCK. I was house surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital at the time of this occurrence—after Cockburn had been taken to the hospital I saw him there—he was suffering from shock—he was a good deal
collapsed from loss of blood—he was comatose—he had received several severe injuries, and had lost a deal of blood—his jaw was fractured on the right side—that would be the result of considerable violence—the jaw was actually broken; splintered in several places—it had been recently bandaged—I saw several wounds on his forehead—he was under my care for eleven or twelve days as an in-patient—the fracture of the jaw may very possibly have been done by a kick—there was an incised wound on his cheek about 2 1/2 inches long—I do not think that could have been done by a fist, but by an instrument, something sharp.
Cross-examined. It is possible that a fall on a fender might have broken the jaw—I think it very improbable that a blow from a naked fist would have done it—it was about 5a.m. when he was admitted to the hospital—he was comatose—he made some remark which made me think he was not drunk—he had been drinking but as far as I could judge he was not actually drunk.
SMITH DAVISON . I am a registered medical practitioner, of 203, Maida Vale—I saw Saville on Sunday morning, September 30th, about half past seven, at his house—I was called there to attend him—he was bleeding profusely, and suffering from a severe semi-circular wound on the left side of the scalp, exposing the bone, the skin was hanging to the scalp, clean away from the bone—it was a clean-cut wound—it might have been caused by a sharp blow from a bottle, or soda-water glass—it was about three or three-quarters or four inches long—there was a contused wound on the right temple, evidently done by a blow, a knuckle would not have been firm enough to do it, I think a single knuckle-duster would do it, but probably some sharp instrument; it is difficult to measure a wound like that, but its diameter would be about three-quarters of an inch; it went down to the bone, I could just separate it and see the bone; there was a small bruise on the nose, that was not of very much consequence—there must have been considerable hemorrhage from the wound on the scalp, it was a semi-circular wound—he answered my questions clearly without any hesitation—I think he was in bed three or four days; I attended him for about eight or ten days, and looked in occasionally to see how he was going on—he has now recovered from the wounds.
Cross-examined. It has been a very fair recovery—I did not see Cockburn till afterwards, when he came to see his friend.
MICHAEL CRAWFORD (Inspector D). I have had charge of this case—On 1st October Cockburn and Woodward were charged before Mr. Plowden and remanded till the 6th, and again till the 23rd, and ultimately the prisoner was committed to take his trial on the 30th—he was admitted to bail, and failed to surrender—a Bench warrant was granted—I have not been able to find Woodward, I know where he is—a warrant was afterwards executed by Nolan at the Cape of Good Hope.
By the COURT.—I went to the house where this occurred on the morning after it took place—I found some broken bottles and blood on the door, and the bottom part of a tumbler, a broken tumbler on the table, and broken pieces of glass about the room—the room had apparently been tidied when I got there.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude. There were other indictments against the prisoner for feloniously wounding Arthur Cockburn and Alfred Saville, and for obtaining goods by false pretences.
NEW COURT.—Monday, June 17th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
497. WILLIAM WILLIAMS (69) , to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences several articles of food, having been convicted at this Court on May 2nd, 1892, of unlawfully obtaining money by false pretences. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Several other convictions were proved against him.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
498. ALFRED BATES (18) , to felonionsly forging and uttering a notice of withdrawal on the Post Office Savings Bank with intent to defraud. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Four convictions were proved against him.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.
500. FREDERICK HARCOURT (17) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Joseph Schleich, and stealing two coats and other articles, his property, and a snuff-box and other articles, the property of Elias Schleich.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months' Hard Labour. And
502. JOSEPH HENRY PALMER was again indicted, with ALFRED PALMER (24), GEORGE EDWARD CLEGHORN (16), and RICHARD JAMES CLEGHORN (14) , for burglary in the dwelling house of JOHN CHAPMAN , and stealing six coats and other articles his property, to which JOSEPH HENRY PALMER and EDWARD and
RICHARD CLEGHORN PLEADED GUILTY .
JOSEPH HENRY PALMER PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. MUIR Prosecuted.
MONTAGUE DOULAS PALMER . The prisoners are my uncles—they live in London—Joseph stopped at my father's shop at Ealing, in January—on January 3rd I went to Mr. Chapman's school with him—I got over a wall and got into the cloak-room with him, and took three overcoats, and he took a pair of boots—one coat I took was like this (A blue one)—I gave it to Joseph Palmer—I have never visited him in London, and do not know where he lives—Alfred was not in Ealing that day—I did not see him at the school—I did not do this voluntarily; I did it because I was afraid.
JOHN CHAPMAN . I am principal of the Great Ealing School—there is a room where coats and boots are kept—this coat was safe in that room on January 3rd—I missed it on the 4th—I also missed two overcoats and
a pair of boots from the same room—I have seen Alfred Palmer at Ealing.
WILLIAM FRANK JOHNSON . I am a pawnbroker's assistant, of 519, Kingsland Road—this blue overcoat was pledged on 17th April for Ss., in the name of James Palmer, 96, Hertford Street, Dalston, by Alfred Palmer—this is the duplicate.
CHARLES ALBURY (694 T). I made inquiries of Mrs. Cleghorn, of 128, High Street, Dalston—she gave me something, and I saw Alfred afterwards where he was employed, and asked him if he had any duplicates—he produced one, and said, "The ticket for this overcoat belongs to my brother; it does not belong to me, the other coat came from a burglary in Ealing last January"—this was on 18th May.
JOHN MOORE (Police Sergeant 68 X). On May 18th Alfred Palmer was brought into the station charged with stealing and receiving this blue coat—he said, "I know the things were stolen, but I was not there at the time."
Alfred Palmer's statement before the Magistrate: "I was not there."
Alfred Palmer's defence. I know the coat was stolen. My brother came to lodge with me, and I took him in.
ALFRED PALMER— GUILTY of receiving.
504. JOSEPH HENRY PALMER, ALFRED PALMER , GEORGE EDWARD CLEGHORN , and RICHARD JAMES CLEGHORN were again indicted for burglary in the dwelling-house of John Chapman, and stealing six overcoats and other articles, his property, to which
JOSEPH HENRY PALMER PLEADED GUILTY , and MR. MUIR offered no evidence against the other three prisoners. JOSEPH HENRY PALMER*— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. ALFRED PALMER— Discharged on recognizances. GEORGE EDWARD CLEGHORN— Judgment respited. RICHARD JAMES CLEGHORN— Two Days' Imprisonment and twelve strokes with a birch.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, June 18th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. JOSEPH Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended Dacey.
JOHN WILLIAMS . I am a house decorator, of 13, Wyatt Street, Battersea Park Road—on the 13th May I took the 5.30 train to Whitechapel Road, and went to a public-house in Brick Lane to meet a man and pay him some wages—when then the prisoners came in—they came up to me
and asked would I stand a drink—I said "No"—I found they were rather rough, so I gave them a drink of ale to get rid of them—I went out to the urinal, leaving my bag of tools there—they followed me out and each took an arm; they took me up some street—Dacey held my arms up and Leary took my money out of my pocket—they kicked me, cut my tongue through, and left me senseless on the ground—I was charged at the Police-court with being in drink, but I was not, I was senseless; I was discharged—I told the police about it—next day I was walking down Brick Lane and saw Leary—I pointed him out to the police and said, "That is the man that robbed me," and I gave him in charge—he said "Don't charge me, old man. I don't know how much money I have taken from you, but I will pawn my clothes and do all I can to repay you"—next day at half-past one I was in Commercial Street, after having charged Leary, and I saw Dacey and pointed him out to a policeman, and said, "That is the other man"—I was in the public-house on the 13th about a quarter of an hour with the prisoners; they must have followed me in—I had two sovereigns, three half-sovereigns, and some odd shillings.
Cross-examined by Leary. I was in the public-house when you came in—I did not ask you to have a drink—the people there were all strangers to me—I gave you a drink to get rid of you.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. They were both strangers to me—I left Battersea at half-past five—I could not tell exactly what the time was when they came into the public-house—I had two drinks of beer—when I came to myself at the station I was in a cell—I was charged with being drunk, but I was not; I was insensible—the inspector visited me in the morning and let me out on my own recognizance—I did not hear the policeman tell the Magistrate that he found me the worse for drink—since the hearing before the Magistrate I have been followed and molested and threatened by friends of the prisoners, I have had a stick across my body—the prisoners took my tools and everything from me.
Re-examined. There is no foundation for the suggestion that I was the worse for liquor—I am quite certain that the prisoners are the two men that were in the public-house.
By the COURT. I was asked at the Police-court how Dacey was dressed, and I said he had a cutaway coat, a silk handkerchief round his neck, lightish trousers, a thinnish face, and a moustache.
ABRAHAM SMITH (428 H). On 14th May, about half-past three in the afternoon, I was in Brick Lane—I saw the prosecutor there—he made a communication to me, in consequence of which I took Leary into custody—I told him it was for robbery and assaulting a man—he said, "I was in his company drinking, if I took the money I don't know how much; but I will sell my clothes and make up the money, if he will let me go"—when he was charged at the station, he said, "All I had of the money was a pot of beer which he gave me in the public-house, if he won't appear against me I will give him a sovereign"—I saw a mark on the prosecutor's chin, which had been dressed by a doctor, also a mark across his face.
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. The officer who found the prosecutor on the ground is not here—he can be fetched in an hour, and the surgeon also.
(They were sent for)—the prosecutor was charged before the inspector with being drunk.
prosecutor made a communication to me in Commercial Street, and I apprehended Dacey—I told him he would be charged with being concerned with Leary—he said, "What! Dick Leary? The other day he said he would charge me with assaulting him, so I should not be in his company; you have made a mistake."
Cross-examined by MR. PURCELL. I had known Dacey by sight, not Leary—I was with the prosecutor when he pointed out Dacey—I do not know that Leary had charged Dacey with an assault, except from what he said.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ALFRED STEVENS . I am a higgler—I live at 2, Crown Court, Pearl Street—I gave evidence before Mr. Cluer at Worship Street a week after 15th May—I was there twice; it was on the second occasion that I was examined as a witness—Dacey's sister asked me to go there—I was with Dacey on Monday, the 13th May, about ten in the morning, in Commercial Tavern—he looked in at the door, and I said, "Hallo, pal, what are you going to have?"—he said, "Half a pint of ale"—he came in, and he remained in my company that day till half-past ten at night, when I left him at his own house, 24 1/2, Great Pearl Street—he was then very drunk—he went into the yard and laid down there, and the woman he lives with found him there; her name is Emily Harvey—while he was in my company that day he did not assault or rob anybody: if he had I should have seen it—I did not see the prosecutor that day—about half-past four we met Mr. Ward and went to Shoreditch, and had a couple of pots of beer, and then went to the house of a friend, Glover, at 40, Buck's Row—he is not here.
Cross-examined. I sell parsley and sage and onions; that is higgling—I buy the cheapest in Spitalfields Market—I have a stand, and sell things—I went to Worship Street, and gave evidence, and while I was in the witness-box the prosecutor came up behind me and said I had kicked him about, and I had never seen the man; this was in the presence of the magistrate—I have known Dacey from a child; he is a dock labourer—I drank with him all day long in this house on this day—it was about eight when we were at Glover's—he was falling about, he fell over a table, and I helped him up; he broke a lamp-glass.
GEORGE WARD . I am a porter, of 12, Cambridge Buildings, Bethnal Green—I was a Fellowship porter till last year; to be a Fellowship porter you must be respectable, and have the freedom of the City—I have known Dacey five or six years—I was unable to go to Worship Street on either occasion when he was before the magistrate—I heard on the Tuesday night that he was locked up—I had last seen him on Monday, 13th May—on that day I was walking down Commercial Street just before five, and I saw Dacey and Stevens, whom I had seen in the prisoners' company once. or twice, and whom I knew as a higgler—they asked me to accompany them to Shoreditch, and I did so—we went to two different houses and had drink, and I left them at Brady Street, Whitechapel Road, about quarter to eight, and that was the last I saw of Dacey that night—it would not take ordinary people ten minutes to walk from Brady Street to Brick Lane, but they were both worse for liquor, and it would have taken them an hour I should think; they could not travel very fast—I was not the worse for liquor; I did not drink so heavily as they did.
Cross-examined. I should think I went into four or five public-house
with the prisoners—I never left them—I went home just before eight—I live close by, two or three minutes' walk—my wife said I ought to have been home before; it was past eight o'clock—I have a watch—I don't think I looked at it between five and eight—I paid for several pots of ale; I don't remember the prisoners paying for anything—I was not intoxicated—Dacey was the worst of us, I think—I have known Stevens about twelve months—I knew he was a higgler—I work in the docks at times when my work is scarce, and I have worked there with Dacey—I think I spent 3s. or 4s. that evening—I work in the grain boats on the river—I have no regular employment now—I have known Dacey five or six years I think; he was a casual acquaintance—I went about with him till eight, when they were both so drunk that they could not walk properly; they were drunk after they came out of the last house, and then I left them and went straight home—I did not give evidence before the magistrate because I understood from the prisoners' friends that the robbery was committed at ten, and as I only saw them up to eight I thought it would be no use my going—Stevens told me they went to Glover's house after I left and something occurred there, and I said, "You could have that man and his wife up"—I remember it was on the Monday, because on the Tuesday night the prisoner's sister came and told me he was locked up. The following witnesses for the prosecution were sent for by direction of the COURT.
HENRY DERBY (Police Inspector). At 1.20 p.m. on 13th May the prosecutor was brought to the station on an ambulance, and charged as being drunk and incapable, I am positive about the time—it was in the daytime; he had a cut on his chin—I sent for the doctor, who dressed the wound, and he was then detained till four on the morning of the 14th, when he was bailed—he appeared before the Magistrate, and was discharged—I am positive he was drunk when he was brought to the station—the doctor saw him ten minutes after he was brought in—the policeman who brought him in is not here, he is at Ascot to-day.
Cross-examined. I have been an inspector about eight months—I have been thirteen years in the force—I have referred to the charge-book, in which the time of the prosecutor's coming to the station is entered—I was not called at the Police-court—the charge was booked at my station next day against Leary—the constable who is at Ascot has had twenty-three years' service—I have no doubt that the prosecutor was drunk and incapable.
Re-examined. There was no evidence to prove that he had been violently assaulted; the wound he was suffering from might have been caused by a blow or a fall.
JOHN WILLIAMS (Re-examined). I left my house at Battersea Park Road about 10.30 on the 13th—I was waiting most all day in Whitechapel to pay the man his money, which I had in my pocket—I came by train to Whitechapel—I was told he was at the public-house, and I went there—after going there I had my dinner at the coffee-house opposite Whitechapel church, and then I went back to the public-house—after that I met the prisoners—after I gave my evidence the first time, and when the prisoners were remanded, Stevens was one of four or five who followed me and assaulted me, and when I came to give evidence on the remand I told the Magistrate what he had done.
By MR. PURCELL. I must have made a mistake if I said I came from Battersea to Whitechapel by the 5.30 p.m. train—the prisoners must have followed me all day, and drugged me.
PERCY JOHN CLARKE . I am assistant to the divisional surgeon—I examined John Williams at the Commercial Street Police Station at 1.30 p.m., on May 13th—he was suffering from a cut on the chin, not a severe wound, but such as he might have got from falling down—at that time my opinion was that that was the cause of the wound—I cannot remember whether his tongue was hurt—as far as I can remember he was drunk—I think he was put into the cells—I thought he was drunk and incapable; the question was probably asked me whether he would be all right in the cell, and as far as I remember I said, "Yes."
Leary in his defence stated that the prosecutor, who was three-parts drunk, offered him drink in the public-house; that Dacey was not there; that he left the prosecutor there, and did not see him again till next day.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 18th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
509. HENRY SHEPHERD (45) , to two indictments for uttering cheques for £1 2s. 4d. and 17s. 2d., also to obtaining the said sums by false pretences. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] He received a good character. Discharged on Recognizances.
510. HENRY HILL (26), and HENRY AYLING (19) , to two indictments for stealing pastry, the property of John Williams, their master, and (with GEORGE SMITH, 42) to making false entries in the books of the said John Williams, and Smith to other indictments for stealing, and forging and uttering a receipt for goods. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.]The JURY recommended the prisoners to mercy. SMITH— Judgment Respited. HILL— Three Months' Hard Labour. AYLING— One Month and Three Days' Hard Labour.
512. FREDERICK ADOLPHUS KITCHENER** (32) , to feloniously marrying Annie Quinlan, his wife being alive, also to feloniously marrying Clara Legge, his wife being alive; after a conviction of felony in April, 1892. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Three other Convictions were proved against him. Seven Years' Penal Servitude and Nine Months' Hard Labour, concurrent, and
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of an indecent assault . Judgment Respited.
MR. KNOX, Prosecuted; MR. H. AVORY appeared for Dimsdale, and MR. GEOGHEGAN for Ahmed.
The Jury being unable to agree were discharged without giving a verdict, and the trial was postponed until next Sessions.
No evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 19th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
No evidence was offered.— NOT GUILTY .
MR. C. F. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.
AGNES MARTHA OWERS . I am a widow, and live at 28, Delancy Street, Regent's Park—the prisoner and her husband have occupied a room at my house from 27th April this year—on 18th May the prisoner came there with two children—one of them, the deceased, was a baby about three months and a fortnight old—they had one room and the use of the breakfast-room—on Wednesday morning, the 22nd May, at twelve o'clock, she put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and said, "Agnes, I feel dreadful; I feel that I must drown my two children and myself"—I told her that her troubles were not like mine, that she had a husband to work for her, and I had no one—she appeared to be in a state of great depression—on Sunday night, the 26th, she and her husband were with me in the breakfast-room; we were singing hymns; she was nursing the child—she and her husband and child went to bed about a quarter to twelve that night—I heard nothing during the night—next morning about a quarter to eight her husband came in and spoke to me; he went out and brought the police—I then went up to prisoner and said, "Oh, Lizzie, what have you done?"—she simply stared, and said nothing; she was in her bedroom dressing—I afterwards went into the washhouse and saw the baby in a bath in the sink, and two pieces of rug which were usually in the bedroom.
WILLIAM HICKS (Sergeant 28 S). On the morning of May 27th, while I was on duty in High Street, Camden Town, the prisoner's husband came and spoke to me—I went to 28, Delancy Street—in the back kitchen there I saw the body of a child lying in a bath with its clothes on—there was enough water to cover it—its food bottle was there, and two pieces of rug—I took the child out at once, and found it was dead—I then went into the room where the prisoner was—I told her I should take her into custody for drowning her child—she stared at me, but made no reply—in consequence of the condition in which she was I communicated with the divisional surgeon—he came to the house—before he came I sent the prisoner with two constables to the station.
JAMES MAUGHAN . I am the divisional surgeon at 56, Albany Street—on the morning of May 27th I was called to 28, Delancy Street, and there saw the body of the deceased child—it had apparently been drowned—I
afterwards made a post-mortem examination—the cause of death was suffocation from drowning—I went to the station and saw the prisoner there—I told her I was a medical man, and I asked her if she complained of anything—she then made a statement to me, of which I made notes—she said, "I feel impelled to do bad things, never to do good things. I have no desire to live; I would rather die than anything else. I wanted to do something for which they would hang me. I felt that I must take the child and drown it; I had no control over myself, so I just held the child in the bath and left it there. I have had a dragging pain at the back of my head and a lifting at the top, ever since the furniture has been sold; my temples have been wound up and have been going ever since. I have a dreadful pain at the pit of my stomach. I should like to stab myself there so as to get from that which pains me; my grief has been so great that I cannot cry—ever since baby was born I have been very low-spirited and depressed"—her condition was that of melancholia, a sort of puerperal mania, that very often occurs during lactation.
Cross-examined. It mainly results in suicidal mania.
MICHAEL BEVAN LEWIS . I am medical superintendent of the West Riding Asylum, County York—the prisoner was admitted into that asylum as a certified lunatic on the 30th of March last—she was apparently suffering from great depression—I knew of her attempt to drown herself shortly before—she spoke to me with regard to her feelings—they were peculiar; she had a strange feeling at the pit of her stomach, which she described, and she felt a little giddy—I formed the opinion after a short time that she was better—about 4th April she said she had great interest in her children, and expressed a desire to go home to her husband, and in the result I discharged her on the 11th May—I have not seen her since until this morning—I understood that she was suffering from something in consequence of her confinement—this form of melancholia often passes away rapidly—her case was peculiar, it was so suddenly impulsive.
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am medical officer of Her Majesty's Prison at Holloway—I saw the prisoner after she was brought there—she was suffering from great mental depression; she complained of severe pain in the head, and at the pit of her stomach—she said she felt no regret at having killed her child; her reason for killing it was that she wished to die, and she thought that by killing the child she would be hung—I know the facts of the case; that she was confined in February, and afterwards showed suicidal tendencies—at the time of her admission she was suffering from puerperal mania—she has improved since.
Cross-examined. I consider that she was not responsible for her actions at the time.
GUILTY of the act, but being insane at the time. — To be detained in custody until Her Majesty's pleasure be known.
MESSRS. C.F. GILL and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted, and MR. DRUMMOND
Defended at the request of the COURT.
Putney Bridge—on Monday, 22nd April, about half-past eight, I went into a urinal in Oxford Market, which is close to Oxford Circus—as I left the urinal, the prisoner Mooney came and caught hold of my arm and asked me if I would give him a drink; he was out of work and hard up—I pulled away from him, and was walking on with this fellow holding my arm, and I could not get away from him—the other two prisoners came up behind me and caught hold of my arm and one of them, I could not say which said, "Now I have got you, you scamp"—I said, "What is it all about; what for?"—they said it was an Oscar Wilde business; that they were detectives, and I had to go to the police-station—Shepherd caught hold of Mooney's arm, and was talking to him, and he also hold of my right arm—Mooney began crying, and offered to pay 5s. to be let free, and Shepherd turned to me and said, "There, you see, he has offered to pay five shillings. What are you going to do?"—I said, "That makes no difference to me; I will not give you a penny, I will go to the station"—Shepherd said, "I will make it pretty hot for you, my lord"—they then turned to Mooney and said, "I am surprised that you should be mixed up with this sort of thing," and the same thing was said to myself—he said, "It is no use your denying it, you know," and then he said to Mooney, "What has been going on?"—"Oh," he said, "I tossed him off"—there is not a word of truth in it—Shepherd asked if we could not come to a settlement—"You are a man of position, and I should not like to mix you up with this sort of thing"—I said, "I prefer going to the station"—all this time we were walking along Castle Street—they had hold of my arm—two gentlemen were passing—I saw that the prisoners were not detectives—Wilton put his fist in my eye, and said, "We will make it hot for you, my lord"—when the gentlemen came up they all ran away together—on May 6th I was fetched to the station in Tottenham Court Road, and there saw about eighteen men, and I picked out Wilton and Mooney first, and then I looked round and picked out the other one—Wilton was afterwards in the hospital—he was brought before the Magistrate, and I was recalled to see him.
Cross-examined. This happened about half-past eight in the evening of 23rd April—it was getting dusk at that time; it was not dark, it was getting dark—I did not see many people about—the urinal was in the middle of the road, in Oxford Market—I identified all the prisoners at the station, Wilton and Mooney first, then I went up and down and picked out Shepherd—I saw him at once and identified him, but to make sure I walked up and down—I am sure Wilton said, "I will make it hot for you, my lord"—he said it to me as we were passing down Castle Street, and also at parting, and he also said, "You beast! I should like to give you a thrashing as well"—the two gentlemen stopped; I explained to them, and they went away—I have not seen them since—I did not notice anybody else in the urinal—I first described Mooney as a dark boy about seventeen, and wearing a black coat or jacket—I could not describe him fully at that time, but I knew his face again directly I saw him—he had a very boyish appearance, and was shaven—it was outside the urinal that he accosted me—it was a fortnight after that I identified him—having a collar makes a great deal of difference in his appearance.
Re-examined. He was wearing a collar on the 23rd, and when I identified him—the street lamps were alight at the time—I did not particularly
notice him—I thought he was rather dark; I am confident of him—he was about six or eight yards from the urinal when he first accosted me—he walked on to the pavement—he was wearing a black hat, not a tall hat, and the same clothes when I identified him.
JOSEPH HAWKINS . I am a corn dealer at 42, Great Castle Street—the urinal in Oxford Market is opposite my shop—on Tuesday evening, 23rd April, about half-past eight, I was standing at my door, and saw Mr. Francis pass, walking towards Oxford Street; one of the prisoners (Moody, I think) was with him—he had hold of Mr. Francis' arm; they were close to me, only a few yards away—I saw the other two prisoners following close behind; they passed on out of my sight—on Monday, 6th May, about half-past eight in the evening, I went in the Cock public-house in Great Portland Street, and saw the three prisoners there—Shepherd jumped up directly he saw me, and ran out at the door—I went to the door and said to an officer, "That is one; I know him"—I had been in communication with the detectives—I pointed to Shepherd, and an officer arrested him—I then went back to the house with the officer, and pointed out Moody and Wilton—I knew the three prisoners well by sight before the 23rd of April, and a lot more besides—I have frequently seen the three prisoners together—I had spoken to Moody; at least, he spoke to me; I spoke to him with my fist—I had spoken to Shepherd before—I had seen them together, close to my house; I have had to send them away from there for annoyance.
Cross-examined. On the 23rd they were about three or four yards from me, passing my door; it was dark—Mr. Francis and Moody were arm-in-arm and the other two men behind"—I did not hear anything pass between them; I could not see that Moody was crying—I did not notice any other people about; I noticed them—Market Street is a pretty good thoroughfare; it is a very quiet neighbourhood—the prisoners do not live in that neighbourhood, not within 100 yards—I know everybody there; I have lived there a number of years—I had had some words with Shepherd a year or eighteen months ago; he accused me at the Police-court with keeping a brothel—I was subpoened to the court as a witness against a person who kept one—I have been tormented for years by a lot of them, and I drove them from my door, for the language they were using—it was at that time he made that accusation against me, and from time to time I have had letters passed under my door, and I have not had one since they have been in custody—seeing them with Mr. Francis, I spoke to a policeman the following day—I produce some of the letters I received.
CHARLES ARROW (Inspector D). On 26th April this case came to my notice—in consequence of information I kept observation, and on Monday, the 6th March, about half-past eight in the evening, I was with another officer in Oxford Market, and saw Wilton and Moody standing together close by the urinal—I saw Moody go into it five times, each time immediately following a gentleman—I afterwards saw him and Wilton go to the White Hart public-house—they then came back to the urinal, and were joined by three other men in Castle Street, and the five went into Great Portland Street and went into the Cock public-house—at that time I was in communication with Mr. Hawkins—I sent him into the house—Shepherd immediately rushed out, and Hawkins said-in-his hearing, "That is one of them; that is Jack Shepherd"—I immediately arrested
him, and took him back to the Cock, and Moody and Wilton were there arrested by other police officers—I then said to them, "We are police-officers, and have to arrest you three men on a warrant for demanding money by menaces"—Shepherd said, "You have made a mistake; I have never seen these two men till I met them in the public-house this evening"—I took them to the station, and read the warrant to them—Moody said nothing—Wilton said, "You have made a mistake, but I hope you will give us a fair identification"—later the same evening I brought in eight other men from the street, casual passers-by, as near as possible like the prisoners in age and stature—I told the prisoners to take up their position amongst them, and after that I asked them if they were satisfied with the men among whom they were standing—each one said "Yes"—thereupon the witness Francis was brought in, and in my presence he identified all of them—Wilkin and Moody said, "You have made a mistake, I have never seen you before in my life." Shepherd said, "He has picked us out, and I suppose we shall have to put up with it, the police have given us a fair chance."
Cross-examined. Shepherd gave his address at a lodging-house in Percy Street—Wilton gave his as the County Council lodging-house in Drury Lane—Moody's mother lives at 24, Warren Street, Tottenham Court Road; that is about ten minutes' or a quarter of an hour's walk from Oxford Market.
THOMAS KEYS (Detective Sergeant D). I was with Inspector Arrow on the night of May 6th—I saw Shepherd come out of the public-house—I rushed to the door with Brooks—Hawkins pointed out Moody and Wilkin—I arrested Mooney and said, "I am a police-officer, and you will be arrested with another man for demanding money." He said, "You say you are a police-officer, anyone can say that, show me your authority"—I took him to the inspector.
The prisoners' statements before the Magistrate:—Wilkin says: "I never used no threats at all, and never tried to obtain money." Moody says: "I was not there at the time; it is a case of mistaken identity." Shepherd: "I never made use of no threats whatever; I never asked for a half-penny piece, no money whatever."
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, June 19th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BESLEY, Q.C., and the MESSRS. GILL Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL defended.
LILY MITCHELL . I live at 33, Ousney Crescent, and am manageress at the Universal Stock Exchange, Cockspur Street, Mr. Mackornick's establishment—on November 30th, 1894, the prisoner came and wanted to open an account, and did so in Brighton "A's"—he signed this document "Ernest Hamilton," and I witnessed it—it is the terms of business—he produced this card, "Ernest Hamilton, 35, Holland Street, Kensington," and I wrote this purchase order for £1,000 Brighton "A's," and he signed it—I do not think I saw him again till December 8th, when the transaction was closed; £49 odd was then due to him, and he gave me this cheque for £49 9s. 10.l.—it is signed by Mr. McCormack—I received with the cheque this receipt signed "Ernest Hamilton"—I identified him in the Mansion House Justice Room in May, from a number of men.
Cross-examined. He said, "I think you have made a mistake;" I said, "I think not"—I saw Miss Giles at the Mansion House on May 2nd—she went there before me—all the men were well dressed, with black coats on, and in the same class of life as himself—I did not go to Cloak Lane before I went to the Mansion House—my attention was called to November 23rd a week or so before May 2nd—I have a great deal to do all day opening and closing accounts—this account was of the ordinary business character—the transaction took place in the open office; other lady clerks were there, there are about twenty in the office—I sent the man the cheque to the address he left—I did say before the Lord Mayor, "I don't think this is the one"—I won't swear it is not.
Re-examined. The terms are printed on our forms—these cheques for £960 and £640 are on our bankers, but not from our cheque-book, and they are not Mr. McAnliff's signature—they are dated January 3rd and 4th—I first heard of this when Mr. Williams called on me—I was shown the cheque—I could not give a description of the prisoner but I knew him when I saw him—I sent the cheque on the 21st, the settling day was on 20th—I have scarcely any doubt about the prisoner being the man.
By the COURT. The two forged cheques are in the same name—I have said before the police Magistrate "I had no difficulty in recognising the man with whom I had the business" and I had not the least, when I had seen them all I went up at once and put my hand on him.
MARY ELEANOR GILES . I am a clerk to Mr. Mackornick—I saw the prisoner on November 23rd but did not speak to him—he called again on December 8th, and ordered me to sell Brighton A. Stock—this form was filled up and I saw him write this, "Ernest Hamilton"—on May 2nd, I went to the Mansion House, and identified him, I pointed to two men and said "It is this one or that one" and I said afterwards I was sure the shorter one was not the one, and the prisoner was, as far as I could say; but I had only seen him twice, and only spoken to him once—on November 23rd I only saw him cross the office.
Cross-examined. I was not the nearest clerk to where Miss Mitchell was doing business with him—our conversation on November 23rd was not for more than a minute or two—I went to Cloak Lane Police-station on May 2nd, not to the Mansion House—my mind had been directed about a month before that to what occurred in November—I see a number of people every day—the transaction was closing the account—at Cloak, Lane Station only two men in the room were respectably dressed—the others, I believe, had not got collars or coats on—they looked a lower
class of men—I said to the inspector, "I am sure I ought not to have picked out the short one, because he is not a bit like the man who came to our office"—I said, "If I saw a great many similar to Small, I should not pick him out; he is either Small or very much like him"—I was in Court at the Mansion House before I gave my evidence, and was in a position to see the prisoner—Miss Mitchell did not go there that day; I was called one week and she the next—the police have not shown me a photograph.
Re-examined. I did not see Mr. Hillman in the matter, but I had a conversation with Miss Mitchell after he had seen her—that was the first time my mind was called back to the signature—after saying that one man was not the man I instantly said, "This is the one"—they were not standing together—I am sure the men had coats on; I do not know about the collars.
CHARLES ROBERT AVORY . I am assistant to Robert Pringle and Co., wholesale jewellers—on December 21st two men called and purchased four or five gold Alberts and some ladies' gold Alberts—some were taken on approbation, and about £13 goods sold—£8 13s. 7d. was left to cover the amounts—the prisoner is the man I did business with; he produced a card similar to this, and he got some of our business cards from the assistant—we received this letter: "35, Holland Street, Kensington. Gentlemen,—I have submitted your goods, and beg to return those I took on approbation. You will please return me cheque for £8 3s. 4d.—E. HAMILTON"—I sent this cheque on the day it bears date; it does not appear to have passed through the bank till the 29th—when it left me it was not endorsed; it is now endorsed "E. Hamilton."
Cross-examined. I was taken to the Mansion House about twelve days before I gave my evidence, and I was shown a number of men in the cell passage below—the gaolor asked me if I recognised anyone there, and, having a doubt, I said, "No"—I was in Court when the detective gave evidence—the junior assistant is not here; he was at the Mansion House, but was not called—the transaction was quite an ordinary one; the only attention I gave was on account of the value of the goods—my attention was called to the transaction about three weeks afterwards—I was only before the Lord Mayor at one hearing; I was in such a position as to see the prisoner's side face—I said at the Mansion House that the person I had dealings with had his aide face to me—I do not think I said, "I commented on his side face"—I do not think I gave a description of his side face—I said that I recognised him by his smile, his fair moustache, and his height—I noticed that his side face was stouter than the man's who had dealings with me; it was a little fuller—a photograph was shown to me when the officer came back, but I had given a description previously; it did not resemble the man much; I said that it somewhat resembled him, but it was a young figure—the officer who showed it to me is outside the Court—I do not know his name.
Re-examined. I was asked to look at persons for identification—I did not fully recognise the prisoner, but after seeing him on the examination I had no doubt he was the man—the light was much better in Court, and I saw him under different conditions—I have no doubt about him.
By the COURT. I said before the Lord Mayor, "I subsequently saw Small in the dock here and having seen his side face in the dock and
having seen him smile in Court, he was continually smiling in the Court, I came to the conclusion that he was the man: I have no doubt he is the man; when doing business with him he was full of smiles."
CHARLES ROSITER . I am clerk to Edward Culver, of 60, Myddelton Street, Clerkenwell—on December 21st, 1894, two men came—the prisoner is one of them—a card with "Ernest Hamilton" on it was produced, and I was asked for some gold chains—the prisoner said he was a dealer, and had a large jewellery establishment up West, and several of his customers required chains—I said that as we did not know him we should require a cash deposit—he said that he was prepared to leave cash for whatever he took away—he was there about a quarter of an hour, and selected seven chains—after he had selected the chains I went out and left him there—some of the chains were sent back next day.
Cross-examined. Mr. Culver was at his desk, and I left the clerk Bryant to enter the chains—he is not here, nor was he at the Mansion House—he has not been called at all—I went to Cloak Lane Station on May 2nd, and saw Miss Giles there—I was taken into a room where there were a number of men, and she went in two or three minutes after me—several of the men were of a lower class, but I should not like to say that only two or three were respectably dressed—I picked out the prisoner from those men—I have said, "I heard the prisoner speak in the Court in a low voice; I could scarcely hear him"—the Lord Mayor called my attention to the fact that he had made some application about his property—the only thing to fix my attention on the men was that they were strangers—we do not often have strangers—the cheque was sent by post.
Re-examined. I have had no opportunity of hearing his full voice—I was in a hurry to get out, and left the money to be paid—when I saw the prisoner with the others I picked him out at once.
EDWARD CULVER . I am a manufacturing jeweller, of 59 and 60, Myddelton Street, Clerkenwell—I received this letter referring to a transaction concluded by my shopman—I find by my book that £18 Is. was deposited—the letter came separately from the parcel—there were three £5 notes among the money—I paid one of them into my bank, Messrs. Smith, Payne's—I sent a cheque for £11 10s., as requested in the letter, for the returned goods—these cheques for £411 and £811 are not signed by me, and did not come from any book of mine. (These were drawn to E. Hamilton, and endorsed Ernest Hamilton, and one was marked "Signature differs")—one was not paid.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I am in the accountants' department of the Bank of England—I produce £5 note 70005, dated October 25th, 1894, which was received at the bank on December 24th, 1894, from Messrs. Smith, Payne and Smith, and endorsed E. Hamilton.
WILLIAM HARRISON HILLMAN . I am manager of the Queen Victoria Street Branch of the City Bank—on December 28th, 1894, an account was opened there by Ernest Hamilton, of 35, Holland Street, Kensington, with £249 3s. 2d.—he is described as a financial agent—the account was made up of £180 in three cheques and £49 9s. 11d., £11 10s., and £8 3s. 4d., and another cheque—the last time that account was operated upon was
on January 1st, when £100 was drawn out—a cheque for £180 was paid in, but that was not paid—I have got the signature of Ernest Hamilton in the book—I saw the person who opened the account, but cannot identify him.
Cross-examined. He referred to the London and South-Western Bank, Earl's Court—their reply was very satisfactory—this is it—I went to Cloak Lane in May, and saw a number of men—I did not see Miss Giles there that day; that was the first day—I failed to recognise the man who opened the account—I have frequently been to the Mansion House sitting in view of the prisoner, and failed to recognize him.
Re-examined. The £180 with which the account was opened was a cheque on the London and South-Western Bank—I took pains to see that it was the same person as to whom we had the reference, before we gave the cheque-book, but not before we opened the account—the man was somewhat taller than the prisoner as far as I remember, and not so stout—he does not give me the impression at all of the man—he signed his name twice—he said, "No, I won't sign that way"—before he had the cheque-book he came and altered his address.
Cross-examined. He may have been there five or six weeks—on May 9th I was shown a number of men at the Mansion House, but did not recognise my lodger—on the same day I saw the prisoner in the Court in the dock by himself, and commanded a view of his side face: that enabled me to recognise him—there was a fair light in the cells passage—they stood in a half circle—I have said, "I recognised him on further consideration"—when he was my lodger I mostly saw his full face, but I saw his side face at times—I saw him two or three times a week—his side face is fuller than my lodger's, but his features are the same—I have said, "It was the side face that guided me"—I mostly saw his full face, but do not remember saying, "I did not see much of his full face"—I may have forgotten it—I did not recognise the prisoner downstairs.
By the COURT. I told the told Mayor that when I saw him down there I did not recognise him, but that he seemed to recognise me as he came down.
W. H. HILLMAN (Re-examined). I believe this photograph (produced) to be that of the man who opened the account at the bank. (Not the prisoner's photograph.)
Cross-examined. This is not the first time I have seen it—I saw it to the best of my recollection at the last examination at the Mansion House—I was called several times, but no question was asked me about the photograph.
EDGAR CHILD . I am deputy manager of the Queen Victoria Street Branch of the City Bank—an account was opened in the name of Ernest Hamilton, and I gave the person thirty cheques, Nos. 50,311 to 50,340—the two forged cheques on Mr. Mackornick are on forms from that book—this is a paying-in slip—a photograph was shown me of the person who I believe opened the account and to whom I gave the cheque book—I believe it is the same person.
Cross-examined. It was not shown to me before I gave my evidence—it
was since I was at the Mansion House—I was taken to Cloak Lane to see a number of men, and failed to recognise any of them—I had seen the man on three or four occasions, I believe it was four, and I gave a description of him to the police—Mr. Beale and I and two other officers were called in at Cloak Lane.
THOMAS HENRY BEALE . I am a cashier at the Queen Victoria Street branch of the City Bank, Mr. Howard Montagu Mackornick has an account there—I cashed this cheque for £960 first with seven £100 notes, four £50 notes, and £60 in gold, and a few minutes afterwards this cheque for £440 to a different person with a £200 note, 83,603, two £100 notes, and £40 in gold, neither of the men was like this photograph—I do not think it was the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I gave a description of the person who opened the account—the police asked me to go to Cloak Lane station, and I failed to recognise the man who opened the account, or either of the men who cashed the two forged cheques—Mr. Hillman picked out one of the people who were asked by the police to come in and stand there—the signature, "Ernest Hamilton," resembles the signature in the signaturebook—if these two signatures on these two documents (produced), signed "Ernest Hamilton" had appeared on a cheque, I should have honoured them—I saw Ernest Hamilton two or three times at the bank, and am quite clear this is not the man.
Re-examined. There were other payments in—I did not see him when he opened the account—this credit slip accompanied the forged cheque for £811—this is a full copy of Hamilton's account, and there are three credits in cashing the £960 cheque—one of the seven £100 notes was 62,843.
By the COURT. There is no entry on the counterfoil of a paying-in slip for £811, but there are loose paying-in slips on the counter—I did not think it strange that our customer should have a cheque for so large an amount payable over the counter, and not pay it to his account because he described himself as a financial agent, and might want the money—I know instances where several members have a common signature, but I do not find that they write the same—I can identify the signature of each member of the firm.
HOWARD MONTAGU MACKORNICK . I carry on business at the Universal Stock Exchange, Cockspur Street—I have an account at the City Bank—this cheque for £49 9s. 10d. has my genuine signature, but these for £640 and £960 are forgeries—they are like my signature except the "s," which is sharp at the turn, and mine is round—the '95 is not well done, in my signature there is a down stroke in the middle, and this is an upstroke; it is finished down instead of being finished up.
MARY ENGLISH . I am the wife of Charles English, of 35; Holland Street, Kensington. In November, 1894, Ernest Hamilton took a bedsitting-room in my house, he gave no reference, he said he came from 55, Hornton Street—he stayed about six weeks; I saw very little of him, I did not go to his room—he did not always sleep there, a different man very often came and slept there—I do not recognise the prisoner; the man stayed till the evening of January 4th; I knew on the 3rd that he was going, he had got some portmanteaus—the detectives afterwards came, and I gave them this book which I found there (produced)—some
time after that my husband went to Paris for a day or two and came back—I found this paper (produced) in the room—he used to leave the house and put up, "Return in twenty minutes—E. Hamilton."
Cross-examined. I had no conversation with him at any time, but of course he took the room of me—I gave him a key of it when he came back—I saw his face then—I described him to Inspector Davidson as far as I could remember—I went to the Mansion House and saw a number of men, but did not recognise him—I do not think the prisoner is a bit like my description—my husband is not here, he did not attend at the Mansion House on the same day as I did—I was not at Cloak Lane.
Re-examined. He used not to come out and speak to me—he spoke from inside the door—my husband is a builder, he took no part in letting the room.
CHARLES JOHN WILLIAMS . I produce a £100 note, No. 62,483, paid into the Bank of England through the London Joint Stock Bank, on January 7th, endorsed Ernest Hamilton, 35, Holland Street; a £200 note, 83,603, and a £100 note, 63,995—the £100 note is endorsed "R. Pimgle"—they were cashed over the counter at the Bank of England.
HENRY ANDREWS . I am cashier to Charles Reinhardt and Co., money changers—their account is at the London and South Western Bank—on January 4th, about five p.m. the £100 note, 62,843, was tendered, and we gave for it in French money £51 17s. 11d., and English money for the remainder—the person who had the money endorsed the note in my presence, "Ernest Hamilton, 35, Holland Street"—it was paid into our bank.
Cross-examined. The person was there about twenty minutes—I was asked at the Mansion House if I could recognise the man, and recognised Messum—that is the man I saw sign it. (Pointing to Messum. See page 778.)
WALTER TOPPLE . I am a cashier in the issue department of the Bank of England—I received this £200 note, 83,603, and £100 note, 63,995, and gave gold for the whole amount—he wrote "Pringle" on one of the notes when I asked him to write his name and address—I asked for his card—this card (produced) does not resemble the one he gave me; it had "Pringle and Co," on it—it is the custom when more than one note is brought to have the signature on one only.
ROBERT PRINGLE, JUNR . I was not present when this transaction took place on my father's premises—I do not know whether there were any cards with "R. Pringle and Co." on them; it would be in writing—I did not write this on the back of this £100 note; I do not know anything about it.
EDWIN PRAGNALL . I am a cashier at the London and County Bank, Richmond, Surrey—in 1892 John Piers Ellisson had an account there—the prisoner is the man—he operated on that account by several cheques (eight cheques produced)—he signed the book—I have compared it with the signatures to the cheques, and they are identical—the account was closed on May 16, 1894—these paid cheques were in the pocket of the pass-book, which I produce—it is absolutely correct as to the debits and credits.
Cross-examined. I have been seven years cashier, and a vast number of signatures come under my notice—I cannot detect any similarity between
the signature "Ernest Hamilton," and the signature to these other documents.
Re-examined. If written by the same person, it must be a disguised writing—this "Ellisson" is in a free, flowing hand, and the other is written backwards, in the cramped writing of a person writing slowly, and at a different angle to the other—this is the first time I have seen them.
JOHN DAVIDSON (City Detective Inspector). At the beginning of this year I made inquiries, and went to Nice—I saw the prisoner there with a man not in custody, out whose name I know; I saw him day by day for about a month, and also at Monaco and Monte Carlo—I afterwards saw them in Paris—I communicated with London, and English came over; he walked on one side of the Avenue de 1'Opera, and I on the other on March 1st—when they had passed English, the prisoner stopped and looked, and touched the man with him, and both looked in the direction English was going—the man not in custody touched Small, and both walked away, I followed them up the Rue St. Honore—I did not know their address—I attended at the Gare du Nord on March 9th—I saw the prisoner with some luggage, which I saw registered and put into the train—the initials on it were, "J. S. G."—I got into the train and got out at Calais, and met the prisoner face to face on the platform—I went on to the boat, and when I got to Dover I found he was not on the boat—I communicated with Sager, went to Holborn, and found some luggage unclaimed with the initials, "J. S. G."—it was removed from there—I was with Wright when the prisoner was arrested at Homerton—I had shaved my beard off before I went to Nice, Monte Carlo, and Paris—Wright addressed the prisoner as Ellisson, he said, "I am going to arrest you on a charge of forging and uttering cheques"; he replied, "It is awkward, very awkward, I am going to meet a 'tart'"—I said, "I have not seen you since you were at Calais"—he said, "You have altered, I saw you at Paris and Monte Carlo"—I said, "You did not appear to like the sea voyage"—he laughed—he was then taken to Cloak Lane station—the initials on his shirt were "J. S. G."
Cross-examined. He did not deny having seen me at Calais, Paris, and Monte Carlo—English and a good many other persons were taken to Cloak Lane to see the prisoner—I was present when English was asked to identify him, and failed to do so, and therefore he has not been called yet; he has been sent for—they identified each other in Paris—English was at the Mansion House two or three times, but never put in the witness-box—six or eight people were taken to the station to see the prisoner while I had charge of him, and several failed to identify him—when Mr. Avory was shown a row of men he said, "There is no one there I know," or words to that effect—I saw Miss Mitchell before the prisoner was apprehended—I had not got the photograph with me—I had it a week prior to the last hearing, which was June 11th—no question was asked me about it, it is not a photograph of the prisoner—the prisoner did not complain to me of the sort of people he was placed with at Cloak Lane, but I heard of it—no one identified the prisoner in the row at the Mansion House, but they afterwards identified him in the dock.
Re-examined. When I saw the prisoner at Nice, Monte Carlo, and Paris he had a moustache—when I saw him at Calais it had been shaved off, and he was very much altered.
By MR. PURCELL. When I saw him at the station I asked him to open his mouth, and said "Have you got false teeth?"—I had a description that Ernest Hamilton had false teeth—I do not know the number—I believe there is more than one man passing under the name of Ernest Hamilton—there were four descriptions which were different—the description of the Ernest Hamilton with false teeth came to me from Wright, and I believe it came from 12, Calthorpe Street.
By MR. GILL. I find that there are two distinct people passing as Ernest Hamilton—I know the name of the man whose photograph this is—the man I saw in Paris had the same surname as that man—when I arrested him I mentioned the initials, and said, "That is John Sutherland Gordon, you have given the name of Small"—he said, "In this case."
WILLIAM WRIGHT (City Detective). I took the prisoner—I know him as Ellisson—the same information disclosed to me the name of John Sutherland Gordon—I told him he would be charged with forging two cheques on the City Bank, and a cheque on Smith Payne's on the same date—he said, "It is awkward, very awkward, the best thing I can do is to say nothing"—Davidson said, "The last time I saw you was at Calais"—he said, "How you have altered; I remember seeing you in Monte Carlo and Paris"—Davidson said, "You did not like the sea voyage"—he said, "No"—when the charge of the four forgeries was read over at Clcak Lane, he said, "I know nothing about it"—he gave his name John Small on the charge sheet; he first said of Clapton, and then "No fixed residence."
Cross-examined. When he said it was very awkward, he said he had got an appointment with a lady—he did not mention the time till we were going to the station—he connected this awkwardness with the fact that he was breaking the appointment—I had not charge of the identifycation—I went away, but I asked him if he was perfectly satisfied; he said, "Oh, yes," but I heard that he complained of eight or twelve men placed with him, he did not think it was fair—I said that it should not occur again.
Cross-examined. The prisoner complained of the sort of people he was placed with, and I said he ought to have complained before, and that at that time of the morning it was difficult to get men of the position I wanted—I invited the solicitor to see the people go in, but not to be present, and on those two occasions there might be half a dozen brought in—no one picked him out on either occasion—from first to last fifteen or twenty people have been brought to see if they could recognise him, including those Davidson brought, and he was placed with others six or eight times.
THOMAS HENRY GUERRIN . I have made the study of handwriting a good many years and practice as an expert—I have seen the cheque, signed "J. Piers Ellisson," and the endorsement, "J. Pringle, jun., 40, Clerkenwell Road," on the £100 note, and I believe they were written by the same person—I have seen the two forged cheques and the cheque for £49 9s. 10d., and have compared the endorsement, "Ernest Hamilton," with the signature to the terms of business; it does not appear to be the same, but I cannot give a positive opinion—the real cheque for £49 2s. 10d.
appears to be the same, but it is very easy to imitate, anyone who could use a pen freely could write that hand—on the endorsement to the cheque for £640 I see a similarity between the "E" in Evans and the "E" in Ellisson in the shape of the upper loop and in the middle of the "E"—the £100 note changed at Rheinhardt's has the same kind of writing in the endorsement; there is a strong similarity.
Cross-examined. I was not examined by the Lord Mayor—I have not had these documents in my hands before to-day—I have been regularly called in Treasury prosecutions for some years—I have seen the "Ernest Hamilton" in the signature book of the City Bank, and I have had the terms of business, and there is a very strong resemblance between them, such as I think a bank cashier would honour.
Re-examined. I have given time and attention to the subject to-day, I have been looking at documents all day long—there is a capital "J" in Junior, and a capital "J" here, you see, where the "J" commences—the next is the capital "P," the way in which it is finished—then the small "g" in "Pringle" which is made exactly like a "j"; that compared with two "g's" in the name of Gosling, to whom the cheque is made out; it is made like a "j" at the end, with a little bend in the back, and the curve of that stroke corresponds exactly with the "g" in Pringle—the Ernest Hamilton signatures are such a common form of writing as to be easily copied, and are quite different from the fine writing on the Bank of England note—it is a good hand, quite right if two Hamiltons were trying to write alike.
GUILTY—INSPECTOR DAVIDSON stated that a number of forgeries had been successfully carried out for very large amounts, and goods obtained in the name of Gordon— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. (See page 778.)
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, June 19th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
521. GEORGE BARKER (19), ERNEST BAKER (20), PATRICK JOHN CONNELL (22), ALBERT GODDARD (20), and AMELIA PAIN (20) , burglary in the dwelling-house of George Angus, and stealing two aprons and other goods, and £20, belonging to Alfred John Palmer. Second Count—Receiving the same.
MR. STEWARD Prosecuted,
GEORGE ANGUS . I live with my wife and children at 13 and 15, King Street, Hammersmith, above the shop of Alfred John Palmer—the ground floors of both 13 and 15 form that shop—there is a staircase from our premises down into the shop below—on the 6th June I went to bed' between ten and 10.15, after examining the premises as usual, and found them locked and secure—I came down at 7.25 next morning to open the premises, and I found a cash-box on the floor by the egg counter, open; the tray of it was on the floor—that cash-box was not there the night before—there was some foreign money by the side of it, and a piece of paper, one of our own forms—the cashier's desk had been broken open, and two other cash boxes were lying on the seat broken open; the tray of one was missing—I cannot say what was taken from the cash boxes—in the despatch room I found a large tin box, in which we kept coppers, under the
cashier's desk, had been broken open, and its contents were all gone except a few coppers at the bottom of the box—the padlock of the copper-box was by the tin box—the missing cash-box tray was on the despatch room floor—the copper-box had been taken from the cashier's room to the despatch room—I found that the despatch room door, which led out at the back of the premises into a little alley, had been unbolted, and egress effected that way—someone had got in by taking two panels of glass out of the skylight above the shop, and climbing down a gas-pipe into the shop—I sent for the police—the prisoners are strangers to me—I heard no sound.
GEORGE JESSE PRIOR . I am manager to Mr. Palmer, of 13 and 15, King Street, Hammersmith, and I have charge of the cash—on 6th June, about 5 or 5.15, I left the premises, after locking up £10 to £12 in coppers in 5s. packets or bags in an iron box under the desk—there were packets of farthings—some of the packets of pence may have contained 10s., but the usual amount in a packet is 5s.—in the desk I left three cash-boxes; two contained £5 each in silver and bronze—next morning when I came I found the cash-boxes lying on the floor, and the copper-box was in the despatch room—I missed about £20 in all—some French copper coins and a few loose English pence were left on the floor—I missed a 10-cent. French coin which had been in the cash-box with other foreign coins, a gold scarf pin, a carbuncle pin, an old crown piece of 1820, and two fishmonger's aprons made of dark blue serge—they are used in our business—the crown-piece, dated 1820, and 10-cent. piece are similar to those I lost—these rolls of coppers are similar to the ones stolen—this is a broken packet of halfpence; only one halfpenny remains—some of the coppers were wrapped in brown paper, and some in newspaper, and some in coloured paper—I changed some coppers for the secretary of some sports at Hammersmith—our coppers were wrapped in similar papers to these—we used no particular paper; we changed coppers for customers.
Cross-examined by Barker. The 10-cent. piece had an N on it—it was taken as a sixpence, and put by not to be issued again—this coin is exactly similar to it.
Cross-examined by Baker. I could not swear to the Jersey halfpenny found at your house—there may have been one or two among our coppers.
Cross-examined by Goddard. I noticed the date on the crown-piece when I took it on the Saturday previous to the burglary—I cannot swear that this is the same coin.
ROBERT MARKHAM (Sergeant T). On 7th June, shortly after 9 a.m., I went to Palmer's stores, King Street, Hammersmith, and examined the premises—I found that entrance had been effected by getting through the window of the billiard-room at the Hop-poles, which adjoins the stores, on to the roof of the stores, and taking out a window of the stores—the billiard-room window of the Hop-poles is generally open till the Hoppoles closed at 12.30—you can get out of that window and over a low wall, and drop down on to the roof of the stores—a window of the skylight had been removed, and someone had got down inside by the gas pipe—I made inquiries with other officers, and about 1.45 p.m. I saw Baker, Barker, and a woman (not Pain) in the Harrow Road, Paddington—I arrested
Barker; West and another officer took Baker and the woman—I told Barker I should take him into custody for being concerned in committing a burglary at Palmer's Stores during the night—he said "This is all right"—I took him to the Harrow Road Police-station, and on him found £3 4s. 6d. in silver, 4s. 10 1/2 d. in copper, and this half-crown packet of halfpence, which has since got broken, this 10 cent coin, and this Key—he said, "What are you going to do with that woman?"—I said "I am going to charge her with being concerned with you"—he replied, "She knows nothing about it; we done the job ourselves"—Baker heard that; he said nothing—they were taken to Hammersmith and charged.
Cross-examined by Barker. The billiard-room of the Hop-poles is public; you get to it from the private wine bar—West searched Baker; he did not find the key on him.
Cross-examined by Baker. It would be very easy for anyone to get into the billiard-room unobserved—anyone is allowed in—you were frequent visitors to the house.
EDWARD WEST (Sergeant J). On 7th June, about 1.45, I was with Markham in the Harrow Road—I saw Barker, Baker, and a woman—I told Baker I was a police officer, and should arrest him for breaking into Palmer's Stores, Hammersmith—he said, "I was in the Hop-poles last night, but I don't know anything about it"—I had not said anything about the Hop-poles—I took him to the Harrow Road Police-station, where I found on him 10s. gold, 27s. 6d. silver, nine 5s. packets of pence, and 15d. in loose bronze—when he was being searched he said, in Barker's hearing, "You have got us straight this time; the girl has got nothing to do with it; we did it ourselves"—that referred to another woman, not Pain—when charged at Hammersmith Station, Baker said, "I deny the charge; I thought we were taken up for street betting"—I had said nothing about street betting.
Cross-examined by Barker. I saw the key taken from your pocket, with a lot of loose silver.
Cross-examined by Baker. You were arrested in the Harrow Road near a public-house—I did not say to you, "Come on, I want you; I have been looking for you"—you were almost a stranger to me—I did not say to you at the station, "We have got you straight this time, Ernie"—you did not say, "You have made a mistake"—the key was not found on you; I believe your landlady has identified it—the woman who was arrested then was allowed to go—the Magistrate discharged her—you did not ask me in the train the winner of the Manchester Cup—I did not tell you—you did not account for the possession of the money by saying you had taken it that morning from a bookmaker in connection with the Manchester Cup, or that Mr. Davis would have to pay out a lot of money over it.
FREDERICK WHISKER (Detective T). On 6th June, about ten p.m., I was in King Street, Hammersmith, opposite the Hop-poles, and I saw Baker, Barker, Connell, and Pain entering the Hop-poles, next door to Palmer's Stores—I have known them all for two or three years—they went in by a passage leading to a number of public bars—I saw no more of them till the 7th, when I saw Baker and Barker in custody—I did not see Goddard—I had seen them on many previous occasions going into the Hop-poles and in King Street; it is a house they use—on the
morning of the 8th I saw Pain outside the West London Police-court—I told her I was a police officer, and should arrest her for being concerned with Baker and Barker in this burglary—she said, "I was with them in the Hop-poles from about ten to 11.30, but I had none of the money"—I had not mentioned money to her—I asked her name; she said "Ada Smith, 19, Little College Street, Chelsea"—I made inquiries there—I found a girl named Pain had stayed there that night from one a.m. till seven a.m.—nothing was found on her when she was searched.
Cross-examined by Barker. You were wearing a cap on the 6th.
Cross-examined by Baker. There was nothing strange in seeing you at the Hop-poles, only that you were all together—I have very often seen you by yourselves—I cannot say I have known you use the wine bar at the Hop-poles.
HARRY MORGAN (Inspector T). On 8th June Pain, who was in custody, was brought to my office at the Police-station at her request—I said, "Do you wish to make a statement?"—she said "Yes"—I cautioned her that what she said I should take down and it would be given in evidence—she then voluntarily made this statement—I took it down, and she signed it after I had read it to her.
Cross-examined by Pain. Nothing was said in my presence about your not being charged if you made the statement.
EDWARD BADCOCK (Detective Sergeant T). I took Pain to Morgan on 8th June—I said nothing to her before she was taken there—I did not say to her, "If you tell us all you know about it you will not be charged"—I never spoke to her—I did not say that if she did not say what she could say it would be the means of her getting twelve months' imprisonment.
EDWARD WEST (Re-examined by Pain). I did not say to you that if you would say all you knew in the case you would get off, or else you would be chucked at, the Old Bailey—I saw you in the waiting-room in the morning, but I believe the statement you made was made some hours after that.
GEORGE-EVERETT (313 T). On 8th June I was on reserve duty at Hammersmith Police-station—I visited Pain's cell at 5.30 p.m., and she asked to see Sergeant Markham—I said I would tell him and I did so, and he went and saw her—she said nothing to me about making a statement.
ROBERT MARKHAM (Re-examined). On the evening of 8th June Everett made a communication to me, in consequence of which I went to the cells and saw Pain, who said, "I wish to make a statement." I said, "If you will wait a short time Inspector Morgan will be in, and it will be much better for him to take it down in writing, as he has nothing to do with the case"—I went away; about six p.m. Morgan came in, and I communicated with him, and after that Pain was brought to the detective department room, and she made this statement, which she signed—when she was brought into the room Morgan said to her, "I hear you wish to make a statement"—she said, "Yes, I do"—he said, "I shall take it down in writing, and it will be given in evidence"—nothing else passed, no threat or promise was used—she signed it and said it was true.
Cross-examined by Pain. You did not ask me, after sending for me, if
you could have bail—I did not say to you, "You had best make a statement."
HARRY MORGAN (Re-examined). This is the statement made by Pain: "8th June, 1895. I, Amelia Pain, make this statement without threat or promise. Although I know all about it I had nothing to do with it. Last Thursday afternoon, Ernest Baker left home about 1.30 p.m., promising to meet me over the water. I took his little niece Florry with me, but I did not see him. I returned home, and came out again at eight p.m. I met Ernest in Hammersmith about nine p.m. He had no intention to do anything wrong that night. We were to have a drink in the Hop-poles, then to go home. He had no intention to do anything wrong at all, but was enticed into it by Ginger Barker, whose right name is Fisher. Barker called Baker out of the bar once or twice. I don't know what they went out for. About a quarter to twelve they called me to the passage to go home. As we left the passage John Connell met us. Barker and Baker and Connell all got into one cab together. I went home in another cab with Albert Goddard. Goddard did not leave the Hop-poles while I was there. When I got home to 165, Warrington Road, Baker and Barker and Connell were in my room; then I saw packets of coppers on my table. They agreed to and did give Albert Goddard 10s. Connell received £4. I don't know what became of the other money. Goddard left soon after. Cornnell left at six a.m. on the 7th. I left home 11.30 a.m., leaving Barker and Baker in my room. Last night I was told that Barker and Baker were punished for breaking into Palmer's Stores. I was obliged to get into my room through the window because Ernest had the key; 35s. was left by him in my room. This (Saturday) morning Goddard came with me to change the money. Some he changed at an off-license beer-house in Peterborough Road, and some in packets at a baker's in the same road. He kept the change, saying he knew that I should be taken, as they had been after me. I went to the Police-court, and was arrested. I don't think Connell arid Goddard were in the job, but they both shared in the money"—the same evening about eleven I saw Connell in King Street opposite the Hop-poles; as soon as he saw me he rushed into the Hop-poles—I went in; in the crowd he turned round once or twice; his face from me—I caught hold of him, and said, "I want you"—I took him to the station—about an hour afterwards Goddard was brought in, and he, Connell and Pain were placed together in the dock—I said to Connell and Goddard, "Now listen to this," and I read Pain's statement; Connell said, "I deny it"—Goddard made no remark—the charge was afterwards read to them; neither said anything—on Connell was found 4s. 7 1/2 d—at the remand before the Magistrate on 12th this statement was re-read—Goddard said, "I admit changing the money at the baker's."
Cross-examined by Connell. There is a back way out of the public-house, I believe.
EDWARD BADCOCK (Re-examined). On 9th June I arrested Goddard about 12.30 a.m. at Jubilee Chambers, a lodging-house in a turning out of King Street, Hammersmith—I told him the charge; he said, "All right"—in taking him to the Police-station, as we passed Palmer's Stores, he dropped this 5s. piece—I picked it up, and the prisoner, nodding towards the Stores, said, "That has come from there"—Mr. Prior
has identified it—I took him to the station, where he said, "I did not do the job; I was in the Hop-poles on Thursday night with Ginger Barker" (that is the nickname by which Barker is known), "Connell, Baker, and the girl Pain. When we came out Ginger told me to take the girl home. Connell called a cab and we got in it. It was then just after twelve. The others got in another cab. We went to a house in Warrington Road. When we got in, Baker, Connell, and Ginger Barker were in the room, and a lot of papers of coppers were on the table. I said, 'I am off out of this,' and left them"—I told him to turn his pockets out, and he turned out 10s. in gold, £2 13s. 3d. silver, 2s. 8 1/2 d. bronze—he said, "That money the girl Pain gave me yesterday morning; she changed some at a shop"—on the 10th, when we were waiting to go into the Police-court, Connell said, "I shall plead guilty to having a couple of pounds, but J did not do the job. Ginger wanted me to have coppers, but I would not at that time in the morning; it was what they owed me"—on the evening of 8th June I went to the house, 165, Warrington Road, Paddington—the landlord and landlady let me in—the ground floor back room was pointed out to me as having been occupied by Baker and Pain—this key, which was given to me by Markham, as having been found on Barker, opened the door—I found in the room twenty farthings and a Jersey halfpenny—Connell, Goddard, and four other men were placed for identification at the Police-station, and a cabman picked out Connell.
Cross-examined by Connell. You did not say to me "Baker said to me, 'If you choose to come home with me I will pay you what I owe.'"
Cross-examined by Goddard. I did not say when you dropped the crown piece, "I expect that came from there."
EUGENIE TREADWAY .—I live at 165, Warrington Road with my husband, Thomas Treadway—I let rooms to Baker and Pain, who were known as Mr. and Mrs. Baker—they came about five weeks ago and left last Friday night—on 6th June they were there—I have not seen any of the other prisoners before—I showed Badcock the prisoners' room and he went in there—on Friday, 7th, Pain paid me the rent, 4s. 6d., all in pence.
Cross-examined by Baker. Last Friday night Pain said that you were going, and paid me a week's rent instead of a week's notice.
Cross-examined by Pain. You said your husband had been arrested, and you asked me to let you leave your things till your brother-in-law could fetch them.
ALFRED FORMAN . I am a Hansom's cab driver—about 12.10 a.m. on 7th June, I was on a cab rank in Beedon Road, Hammersmith—Connell came and got in, and asked me to drive to the first turning on the left, which was the corner of the Grove—when I got there I was stopped by a man and woman standing at the corner—I could not recognise the man, the woman was Pain—they got in the cab, and Connell told me to drive to the bottom of the hill—I drove under the railway arch and then I was stopped, and two men, of whom one was Barker, walked out of a yard and got into the cab, making five inside—Barker was carrying a parcel on his shoulder, and the other man had a parcel in his hand—the parcels appeared to be done up in dark blue cloth—when those two men got in Pain and Goddard got out and walked towards Hammersmith—I was told
to walk to the Grove; I asked what part, and they said Ladbroke Grove Station—when I got there they directed me up the Ladbroke Grove Road, and I took a turning on the right and then on the left, and they stopped me at the corner of a mews, where they all got out, said goodnight, and went away—Connell paid me 5s. in silver—it was close to the Warrington Road where I put them down—I afterwards identified Connell at the station, but failed to identify Goddard.
Cross-examined by Barker. You were wearing a cap—I can swear to you—you were in the dock when I next saw you—I do not often get such fares, and it made me pay more attention—the stuff in which the parcel you carried was wrapped looked too thick for a silk handkerchief.
Cross-examined by Baker. I picked you and Barker up at the bottom of Beedon Road—you were standing by a gate that leads up to the mews—the parcel you had was not big enough for a suit of clothes; it was not quite so big as the top of my hat—it looked heavy—I pulled up near a public-house—you did not go in; it was shut.
Cross-examined by Goddard. You were wearing a handkerchief round your neck, that night, and afterwards you were not—you did not all five remain long in the cab—I could not hear what was said inside.
Cross-examined by Pain. You were wearing a light dress and a light jacket.
WILLIAM REEVE . I am a Hansom's cab driver—at 12.20 a.m. on 7th June I was in Broadway, Hammersmith, when Pain and a young man I cannot recognise got into my cab, and ordered me to drive to Ladbroke Grove Road—I did so, and put them down opposite the Eagle, which is near the Warrington Road.
Cross-examined by Pain. You were wearing a brown jacket and a light dress.
FREDERICK DAUNTON . I am a butcher, of 356, Harrow Road—on 7th June, between 1.30 and two, Barker came in and asked me to change some coppers—I refused—about ten minutes afterwards I saw him in Markham's custody.
Cross-examined by Barker. I was not called before the Magistrate—when Markham had you in custody I identified you, and asked what you were charged with—I had not seen you before you came in my shop.
Goddard in his statement before the Magistrate said that lie received the money not knowing where it came from.
Pain said that she had been threatened into making the statement to the police, and that they had told her what to say.
Witness for Barker and Baker.
WALTER STEVENS . I' live at 28, Cavendish Street, Chiswick, and am a painter—on 6th June I was in the Hop-poles all the evening—Barker and Baker came in just before ten and did not leave till 11.30—Connell and Goddard were not there—at 11.30 we went round to my sister's place to get some clothes or something, and then I went home—my sister's husband is Baker's brother—I last saw them about 11.45, it may have been earlier—I got home at twelve o'clock, and it would take about five minutes to walk home from the Hop-poles—I left them close to the Hop-poles—I had no watch—I left them at Baker's brother's—while we were at the Hop-poles Pain came in after ten o'clock; she went away
before we went; my sister would not have her at her place, she knew she was living with Baker—she did not say where she was going—Baker told me he went to his brother's for his clothes, and I saw him come out with them, and go off home about 11.45.
Cross-examined. That public-house clock is sometimes slow—I go to the Hop-poles nearly every day—I came that way home, and I had done so for about three weeks—Baker and Barker use the house regularly—6th June, Thursday night, was the only night I had been there that week—I heard the following morning that they were in custody—I went to the Police-court, but I could not get in—I waited where the witnesses go in, but I was not called on—I was convicted in 1891 of assault on the police, and got seven days—in December, 1892, I was convicted of assault on the police, and got three months' hard labour—in 1893 I was convicted of stealing £1 by a trick, and assault on the police, and got five months—I was in the army in July, 1891; I was drummed out for deserting.
Barker, in his defence, stated that Baker was a bookmaker's clerk, and had the coppers from his master to pay bets with, and that he (Barker) had won the money found on him by gambling.
Baker said that he received the coppers from his master; that Barker, Connell, and Goddard came that night to be paid money owed to them.
Connell and Goddard stated that they met Baker at the Hop-poles, and went to his house to be paid what was owing to them.
Pain said that she met Baker at the Hop-poles, and that he said he was going to pay what he owed, and that she did not know the money was stolen.
BARKER and BAKER, GUILTY of burglary. CONNELL and GODDARD, GUILTY of receiving.
PAIN, NOT GUILTY .
Barker**† then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony at Maidstone, in November, 1893; Baker ** to one at this Court in September, 1893, in the name of James Edwards; Connell** to one at this Court in October, 1893; and Goddard** to one at this Court in January, 1893. Five other convictions were proved against Barker. MARKHAM stated that he was the captain of a gang of burglars, and a trainer of young thieves, and did no work; and that Goddard had been in employment lately and had probably been led away by the other prisoners.
BARKER— Six Years' Penal Servitude. BAKER— Three Years' Penal Servitude. CONNELL— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. GODDARD— Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, June 20th, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MR. ELDRIDGE Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
(For the case of David Warboys, see Surrey Cases.)
NEW COURT.—Thursday, June 20th, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. WILSON Prosecuted.
GUILTY . BINGFIELD— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. COLLINS— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour.
MR. HALL Prosecuted.
JAMES WILLIAM KEEP . I am a decorator, of 18, North Road, Clapton—on June 1st I was in Bishopsgate Street, and saw the prisoners watching me—I turned round and looked at them in Sun Street, and when I got one hundred yards down, Sullivan put his arms round me and the other man snatched my watch—I said, "Don't rob me, I am only a poor man"—I ran down the street; a policeman came up—I missed 35s., and my watch, value about £1—before they got to the station I saw my watch fall down Condon's leg; I took it up—they did not strike me, but they forced my hands back.
Cross-examined by Condon. I do not recollect asking you the nearest way to Homerton—the policeman did not say, "Have you lost any thing?" nor did I say, "No, I don't think I have, "bringing out my watch and placing it in my hand—the first constable took it out of my hand, but that was after I had picked it up—I did not say, "Now I have got my watch I do not want any humbugging about."
By the COURT. Sullivan held me, and Condon took my watch—it might have gone down the leg of his trousers and it might have fallen out of his hand—no damage was done to it—I had had two or three glasses, but I knew what I was doing.
JOHN OTTOWAY (City. Police). On June 1st I was on duty in Houndsditch in plain clothes, and saw Keep apparently the worse for drink, and the two prisoners and a man in custody following him—he went to a public-house at the corner of Liverpool Street; the prisoners looked in and came out—they all three waited—he came out and walked towards Shoreditch—the prisoners went on each side of him—he turned back towards the City, and in Curtain Road they hustled him; Sullivan clasped his arras round him and Condon rifled his pockets—he shouted, "Help, help!"—we ran up—I took Condon who said, "You have made a mistake; I accidentally pushed against him"—Keep stooped down at Sullivan's feet and when he rose he had this watch and chain in his hand—no money was found on him, the look-out man got off.
FREDERICK BAREHAM (City Detective). I was with Ottoway in Houndsditch about midnight, and saw Keep and the prisoner following him—he went into a public-house; they looked in and then stood with a third man on the footway—Keep came out and stood some time, and walked down Bishopsgate Street to Shoreditch—Sullivan caught hold of him at the corner of Sun Street from behind, and Condon rifled his pockets from the front—he shouted "Help! Leave me alone"—I caught
hold of Sullivan—Keep ran away—I brought him back—he picked up the watch and handed it to me.
JAMES FERGUSSON (City Detective). I was with Otto way and Bareham, and saw the two prisoners follow an old gentleman and rifle his pockets—I seized Sullivan—Keep ran away—Ottoway had Condon by the arm; he put something in his pocket, and this watch and chain ran oft' his boot—he had corduroy trousers with a flap—Keep picked it up—he shouted very much; they were holding him in a tight grasp—he was powerless.
Cross-examined by Condon. I took the watch out of Keep's hand; it came down the leg of your trousers during the four paces we took.
The prisoners in their defence stated that they were innocent and had never been locked up.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each.
MR. BEARD Prosecuted.
SAMUEL WOODWARD . I am a solicitor's managing clerk—on May 3rd my wife and I were the last to retire to rest—the doors and windows were shut, but I am not certain whether the kitchen window was fastened; the hall door was shut—I had an overcoat and a frock coat in the hall, with a letter-case in the pocket, containing a cheque for £4—at six a.m. I found the kitchen door open, the staple unscrewed and open, the street door open, and the gas turned on—somebody had been drinking there—I missed some stock certificates, a cheque on Lloyd's Bank, a pipe from the kitchen, and some stamps—this coat and a piece of a knife were found in the dining-room.
HENRY BROWN (79 S). I found footprints outside Mr. Woodward's window in the back garden, and this coat lying on the table—I took it to the prisoner after he was arrested on the 21st—he said, "Yes, that is my coat, but I do not particularly want it, I done it, and you may as well have the lot."
Prisoners defence. I found the property in a brown paper parcel. I deny the evidence of the last witness. He asked if I had seen the coat before. I said, "I may have." He said, "Do you want it?" said, "No."
GUILTY .— Eleven Months' Hard Labour. There was another indictment against him.
MR. GILL Prosecuted, and MESSRS. GEOGHEGHAN and SANDS Defended.
branch of the London and County Bank—Mr. John Edge keeps an account there—on 23rd February, 1894, this request for a book of fifty cheques was presented to me—I believed it to be Mr. Edge's signature, and handed the prisoner a book containing fifty cheques, K. 41451 to 41500.
Cross-examined. As far as I remember, it was a stouter man than the prisoner.
GEORGE FRASER SPOONER . I am sub-manager of the Midland Furnishing Company, Judd Street—in December, 1892, the prisoner had some furniture of them under this hiring agreement (produced)—it is signed by him in two places in my presence—we received this letter from him in reference to it, also this other letter.
WILLIAM NODES . I am an undertaker, of Holloway Road—in June, 1893, I got this letter (produced) from the prisoner, respecting a funeral, and went to see him the next day, and he gave me instructions in accordance with the letter.
Cross-examined. I have not seen him write—a specimen of his writing has been sent to me.
Re-examined. I went with the letter in my hand and said, "I have called on account of your letter"—I made notes of the directions for the funeral on the back of it.
THOMAS HENRY GURRIN . I have had large experience in the study of handwriting—I have examined the forged order and the documents submitted to me as the prisoner's genuine writing, but not the agreement—the order for the cheque-book is undoubtedly in the same writing as the letters—these tracings (produced) are an exact reproduction of the same writing.
By the COURT. These are actual tracings from the letters written by him, and these are similar words and letters in the forged document—I put them side by side for the Jury to compare them—they appear to be identically the same—I put in the first column the letter which is relied on as being the same in both writings, and sometimes an entire syllable, such as "ing."
JOHN EDGE . I am a commission agent and bookmaker, of Howard House, Clapton, and a member of the Albert Club—I have an account at the Hackney branch of the London and County Bank—on December 22nd I sent a client a cheque for £20 by post—on December 26th I was at Kempton Park races, and saw the prisoner there—I knew him by sight, and cashed a cheque for him, which I tore up—this order for a cheque-book is not written by me or by my authority—this cheque for £320 is not written by me.
Cross-examined. He is a racing man—I have never written to him—this "John Edge" is very like my signature—my impression is that I wrote to his wife about a debt of £5 which he owed me; I received a letter from her, and replied to it—I do not know his writing.
JAMES MURPHY (City Policeman). I kept observation on the prisoner first at Lindor Road, Clapham—I first saw him on February 22nd this year; he passed in the name of Middleton—I next saw him at Bridge,
near Canterbury, a small village of 800 inhabitants—I was there when he was arrested, not on this charge; he was living in the name of Walton in a small four-roomed house—he was afterwards charged on this forged order—Allen showed it to him.
Cross-examined. I have not seen him or his wife taking things to pawn—there was not more than £6 worth of furniture in the place—I know Harry Bagham; he is a notorious forger—there are two brothers; I never saw him with the prisoner—I never saw either of them with Small or with the prisoner—the prisoner has been charged before and discharged.
Re-examined. He has been under observation about a month at Lindor Road, and on May 12th I traced him to Bridge.
BENJAMIN ALLEN . I was engaged in these inquiries—I was at the Old Jewry on May 4th, when the forged order for the cheque-book was shown to the prisoner he said, "It is an exact fac-simile of my writing; I could not have done it better myself, but I did not write it."
Cross-examined. That was the body of the order—he has been hard up lately—I know Harry Bagham; he has not been staying at the prisoner's house, but one of the Baghams has, who is known to the police as a notorious forger.
Re-examined. He lived in the same house—I have seen the prisoner occasionally during the past five years—I knew him in the name of Middleton, at Lindor Road—he said that he was living at Twickenham, but did not tell me in what name.
GUILTY . He had been convicted at this Court in February, 1880, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment; he was said to be very far advanced in consumption .—Three Years' Penal Servitude.
The RECORDER highly commended the conduct of the City and Metropolitan police officers engaged in this case and Small's case.
MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted, and MR. BURNIE Defended.
JOHN RICHARD MILES . I am one of the firm of Miles and Gunn, lead merchants, of Mile End Road—we have a salesman named Smith in our employ—the prisoner is a customer of ours—this entry in the return-book of April 25th, 4 cwt. 3 qrs. 10 lbs. old lead, is in Smith's writing—it credits the prisoner with that—the value is 18s. or 19s., received by Thomas Hubbard—on 30th May a communication was made to me about it, and I spoke to Smith and took proceedings.
Cross-examined. As well as being a customer, the prisoner has worked for me as a plumber—I was spoken to first by Cox, but I was the first to mention Hubbard's name—Smith hesitated, and said, "I don't know to what you refer"—I said, "Smith, you had better speak the truth; you received some old lead from him on 28th April"; he said, "Yes"—I said, "You gave credit for 4 cwt. 3 qrs. 10 lbs."; he said, "No, it was not"—I told him what I had been told by Cox, and asked him if it was correct—I mentioned the discrepancy in the weights, and after hesitating he admitted it.
transaction in the day-book—on April 25th the prisoner came to the front shop, and said he had got some old metal—I said, "Take it down the back"—he did so, and when we were weighing he said, "Put on a bit"—the weight was 2 cwt. 3 qrs. and a few pounds, and I entered this, 4 cwt. 3 qrs. 10 lbs.—several customers were present—the prisoner was behind in the shop when I made the entry; he saw me make it, and he signed it—this invoice is in the writing of a clerk named Hennessey—I sold the prisoner some goods, and Hennessey copied the invoice, and the prisoner signed the counterfoil—Hennessey did not see the lead weighed—I was the only person who knew about the weight—I saw the prisoner a fortnight afterwards at his house one evening, and he gave me 8s., which was half of the balance—I went there because he asked me to give him a look round—he has not brought any lead since—on May 13th I was called into my master's office and spoken to.
Cross-examined. There was another man there, and it might have been Alfred Harris, but I do not know him—he was not there when the lead was weighed—Hubbard told him to go round to the front before it was weighed—he never came into the shop; he went round to the back—when the prisoner came in a number of customers were in the shop—Hennessey was in his desk, five or six feet off, when the prisoner spoke to me about the lead—I said before the Magistrate, "The prisoner spoke to me about the lead; Hennessey was at my side at the time"—the lead was in three sacks—nothing was said about putting a bit on, till it was in the scale; some gas-pipes were brought at the same time—Cox was standing behind us—the prisoner did not give me any money in the shop; no one could hear the clink of silver there—I have known the prisoner some time; he has worked for Messrs. Miles on my introduction; he laid a new water service—I did not expect a commission on the other jobs—I did not think it wrong, but I did it out of friendship—any money he has given me has not been for introducing jobs.
Re-examined. I have had a glass of beer from him.
WILLIAM EDWARD COX . My duties are the same as Smith's—the prisoner was a customer of the firm—I saw him in the shop on April 25th—he brought some old metal to Smith's counter, took it down the side entrance, and put it on the scale—I saw by their movements that something was wrong—I got within a few yards, and saw the lead on the scale, and too many weights on the lever, and down it went with a crash—I looked in the book to see what he had put down, but I took no notice because I did not wish to get Smith into trouble or myself—I had only been there, four months and a week—in the first week in March the prisoner came to my shop and said that his lead would be passed through my shop to-morrow morning, and I was to put a couple of pounds of copper wire in the scale, and I should receive half of what it was worth—the copper wire was my master's—I said that I could not possibly do it, and should take no notice of what he said for the future, but should serve him at the ordinary price—in consequence of what I saw I made a communication to my master.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner spoke to me in March we were alone—I looked on this as a serious proposal, but did not tell my employers till the end of May—I had then been there three weeks—I said, "I cannot do anything like that; I will serve you in the future, and you shall have the
goods at the lowest possible price"—I mentioned it to Chambers, a fellow shopman, before the end of May; he is not here—the scale is just inside the door—the weights on the scale were 4 3/4 cwt. and some pounds—I did not speak to Chambers till the lead was being weighed—when he made the proposition in March to rob my master I kept it to myself—Chambers was not in the shop—I said before the Magistrate, "I saw Hubbard hand Smith some silver coin across the counter; I cannot say the amount; Smith placed it in his pocket," and "They both came to the front counter, and Hubbard passed something across the counter, which rattled like money"—I did not speak to the prisoner after the weighing of the lead and before I spoke to my master—I never asked him for commission.
Witness for the Defence.
ALFRED HARRIS . I am a painter and paper-hanger, and work for the prisoner—on April 25th I went with him with this lead to the prosecutor's shop—there was a little over 4 cwt.—it was in four sacks—I took it into the shop, and stood three or four feet from the scale while it was weighed—the prisoner did not say, "Will you put a bit on?" I must have heard it if he had—the weights are hung on—it was fairly weighed—I stopped as long as the prisoner stopped.
Cross-examined. I have been with the prisoner four years—I have only been with him to sell lead at Miles'; it was taken there in a truck, which remained outside—the prisoner did not ask me to go to the back while he went to the front—I was asked to go and see Mr. Bedford, the solicitor, a fortnight ago—the prisoner was arrested on Friday, and I did not know it till Saturday—I was at the shop on Saturday, and did not know where he was; he could not find bail, and was taken in custody—I went to give evidence—Mr. Bedford spoke to me about giving evidence—I had given him my statement before I went to the Court, and he did not call me.
Re-examined. I was in the lobby—the Court sat till 4.45.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 20th, 1895.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
528. THOMAS VAIL (64) , Feloniously setting fire to the Whitechapel Union Workhouse. Second Count attempting to set fire to it under such circumstances that if had been set fire to, the prisoner would have been guilty of felony.
MR. GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted.
SIDNEY DAVID PULLEN . I am assistant master of the workhouse in Grove End Road—on June 4th the prisoner was admitted as an inmate—on 6th June, at 1.30, I was called to the receiving ward—in front of one of the walls of that ward is a space covered with skirting to resemble a cupboard—the space is open at the top, and anyone standing on a table or chair could reach over and drop anything down into the space—in the cupboard adjoining the space were 380 shirts—on the right of, and separated from the receiving ward by a partition, is the sick and infirmary
ward—on 6th June the prisoner was told off to clean the windows, and half an old clothing bag was given him for the purpose—in the receiving ward was a tin pannikin for persons to drink from—about 1.30 on 6th June I was called to the receiving ward by the porter, and when I went in I saw smoke coming from the top of the cupboard—I sent for the carpenter, and had the skirting-board between the wall and the cupboard taken down—I then found this tin pannikin stuck two or three feet down with smouldering rags in it—the rags and pannikin were similar to what had been given to the prisoner—the woodwork of the cupboard was charred, and two shirts by the side were scorched—no person to my knowledge had gone into the ward while the prisoner was there—no person had left the ward except him—I accused the prisoner of setting fire to it—he said, "No one saw me do it; you have only got me on suspicion"—someone was cleaning ten yards away, but he was shut in, and could not see the prisoner.
DANIEL DONOVAN , I am receiving ward attendant at this workhouse—about one p.m. on 6th June I came back from dinner and looked into the receiving ward—I saw the prisoner there, and no one else—I asked him if anyone had come in; he said, "No"—I went to the porter's lodge, just opposite—from that lodge you can see who comes in and leaves the receiving ward—while there no one went into the ward—I saw the prisoner leave the ward and go round to the right—I asked him where he was going; he made no reply—after that I saw smoke coming out of the receiving ward window—I went in and Raw smoke coming from the top of the cupboard—I got a fire bucket from the back room and called the porter, who got on the table and poured a couple of buckets of water down the skirting—he got the pannikin out; it contained this rag, which I had supplied him with in the morning—the cupboard panelling was charred, and two of the shirts scotched—for the ten minutes before I saw the smoke the prisoner was the only person in the ward—I heard him say when charged, "No one saw me do it"—the prisoner is taller than I am—standing on the table, I could place a pannikin on the top of the skirting.
Cross-examined. I was at the lodge when you went out—the pannikin had dropped down, with this stuff in it all alight—you were sent for the ladder at 10.30, and I saw you fetch it back—you were not crossing the yard for the ladder at 1.30.
ERNEST PARKER . I am the porter at this workhouse—on 6th June I was called into the receiving ward about 1.15—I saw flames coming from the top of the skirting—I got buckets and poured water down, and put the fire out.
WILLIAM HINDMARSH (690 K). I was called at two p.m. on 6th June to this workhouse—I charged the prisoner with setting fire to the house—he said, "No one Raw me do it; you have only got me on suspicion"—I took him to the station—he said there, "I went to get a ladder"—I am 5 feet 10 inches, the same height as the prisoner—by standing on the table in the receiving room I could reach the top of the skirting, and could easily drop anything down.
The prisoner in his defence stated that there were six hundred pannikins in use, and that one had been left on the top of the skirting, and that Donovan had got the rags produced out of the yard.
S.D. PULLEN (Re-examined by the Jury). The man ten yards away was in a separate building, divided by a yard from the receiving ward; he could not have got in without seeing the receiving ward attendant, and without being seen—he could have got in if the receiving ward officer had gone away—he is sixty-eight and humpbacked—no one else got into the ward; it would be impossible—there was a fire in the ward for heating water in the boiler, and the prisoner could have ignited the rags if he wanted to, put them in the pannikin, and dropped them down—the pannikin was in the receiving ward—no pannikin was afterwards found there except this, which had dropped behind the skirting.
It was stated that the prisoner had previously attempted to set fire to the workhouse, and that he had been twice convicted of wilfully destroying his workhouse clothes.— Six Months' Hard Labour.
MR. LR MAISTRE Prosecuted, and MR. PINFOLD Defended.
GUILTY .— Six Weeks' Hard Labour.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
GUILTY of indecent assault.
Two convictions for similar offences were proved against the prisoner— One Year and Eight Months' Hard Labour.
OLD COURT.—Friday, June 21st, 1895.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MESSRS. C.F. GILL and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. HORACE AVORY Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. CHARLES MATIIEWS and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. HUTTON Defended.
FRANCES ASHTON . I keep a lodging-house at 42, Belfield Street, Dalston—I knew the deceased, Lucy Delfosse, and the prisoner, for twelve months—I knew them us Mr. and Mrs. Swinton—the deceased used to assist in the house during my illness—the prisoner frequently came to the house, and had his meals there—Kate Murphy used to do business there—on the night of 16th May the prisoner came to the house at a quarter to ten to fetch his wife—she was intoxicated, and would not go home with him—the prisoner was more excited than intoxicated—he had
been drinking—she said she was very ill and bad, and would get Kate Murphy to see her home—about ten minutes to eleven she and Kate Murphy went away together—she had bruises all over her—I did not see her or the prisoner again till next morning, when the prisoner came, between ten and eleven, and asked me if I could spare my woman as quickly as possible, because he thought his wife was dying—I asked him about a doctor—he said, "I have not been for one yet"—he said he did not know what was the matter with her—a little while after that he went away with Kate Murphy—he returned between twelve and one, and asked me for a pair of sheets and some towels, as she was in such a filthy condition, and the doctor had nothing to wipe his hands on—I lent him some—between three and four I went to the house and saw the woman lying in the room unconscious—the marks on her head were shocking; the prisoner was there—I told him the woman would die—he said, "I don't care if she does or if she don't"—he did not say how she came to have the marks—they were always in an intoxicated condition, not in my house, but outside—later in the day he came to my house and asked me to let him sleep there; he said, "If she gets over this I won't live with her any more"—he did not say why, but I suppose that was because of the constant drink on her part; he described her as being too rough, that she smacked his face and kicked him in the most dangerous part—I saw marks on his face; I said to him, "Those scratches are not more than a flea-bite to what you have done to her"—he made no answer to that—he did not stay at my house that night—he came again the next evening and told me the woman was dead—he went away, and I did not see him again—I had made the deceased a present of a bag—this (produced) is it—I had seen her with it not more than a week or two before this—it was in a perfect condition when I gave it to her—on 16th May she took away the bag with my street-door key in it—I gave her the key to let herself in in the morning.
Cross-examined. I had known her ten or eleven months, and the prisoner for the same time; I took them both in out of charity, because they were hungry and in rags—I know now that she was drinking herself to death; I did not "know it then—she was nearly always drunk—he did his best to keep her away from public-houses; he came to fetch her in the evening night after night in order to prevent her from going into public-houses—he told me that she frequently struck him—I did not see it—on the night in question he came to fetch her about a quarter to ten—he was sober enough then; he might have had a trifle of drink; he was not so intoxicated as she was—he came for her once when he was sober—when he came again he was a little the worse for drink, but more excited than drunk—I have heard him repeatedly implore her to give up drink—he was excited because she would not go home with him—she fell about a good deal in her own home, not in my house—she came in the morning with a frightful black eye.
KATE MURPHY . I used to do housework at Mrs. Ashton's for five or six months, and in that way I knew the prisoner and the deceased—she came there every day to look after Mrs. Ashton, and the prisoner was there at meals every day—on 16th May I saw the deceased, and noticed her face—she had black eyes and bruises under the chin—the prisoner came in to dinner in the middle of the day, and in the evening at a
quarter to ten he came to fetch her—he said he would not walk with her as she was so drunk, and he asked me to help her up on the way home—she declined to go with him—we left before, being about ten minutes to eleven—she had this bag in her hand—we went in the Beehive public-house and had some ale, and stayed there nearly half an hour—she sat down in a chair—some woman came in, and then the prisoner came in—the deceased, using a foul expression, said, "There is another of your beauties," and with that she kicked him in the privates, and scratched his face—he did nothing to her, he told her to go home—we all came out together and went down Myrtle Street, and she scratched his face again—I left them then and saw no more of them that night—next morning between ten and eleven the prisoner came to Mrs. Ashton's, and said his wife was very bad, he thought she was sinking—Mr. Ashton said, "Have you been for a doctor?"—he said, "No;" would I lend him some sheets—about ten I went to the house, she was then lying down and bleeding—there was blood on the back of her hand—he went and got some brandy, and then ran for a doctor—she was in bed undressed, wrapped up in a blanket; she was unconscious—I spoke to her, but she could not speak—I noticed a fresh bruise on the back of her right ear—the oil-cloth in the room was wet; it looked as if something had been wiped up there—Mrs. Healey and Mrs. Raine came into the room just after I got there, and asked what was the matter—the prisoner said, "I think this is very serious; I don't think she will get over it; I shan't trouble if she does not"—Mrs. Healey said, "It looks as if you had been knocking her about"—he said, "No"—she said, "You have knocked her about"—he said, "Yes"—she was never without black eyes—the doctor came about a quarter to one, and the prisoner went off to Mrs. Ashton to get some clean things—I remained with her till a quarter to five, when she died—the prisoner was in and out of the room during that time—he went to Forest Gate to fetch her mother; he was gone four hours—she never spoke a word all the time.
Cross-examined. When he first came to Mrs. Ash ton's, I asked him what was the matter—he did not say when she got home she was falling about—he said she was very bad, he did not say she was drunk—he did say when she got home she fell about—he always did his best to stop her from drinking.
JOSEPHINE HEALEY . I live with my husband at 104, Haggerston Road—the prisoner has been lodging there with the deceased for seven or eight months, as man and wife, in the first floor front, immediately above my room—on 16th May, I came home from Bournemouth about twelve at night, and was at supper with my mother in the front room—I heard Mr. and Mrs. Swinton come in and go upstairs into their room—they were speaking together rather quietly—directly after they had got there I heard sounds of thuds on the floor, three or four; there might have been five—I did not count them exactly—it was as though a body fell on the floor—we could hear very plainly—I heard Mr. Raine, the landlord, knocking against the wall, and after that I heard one more thud—quarrels had not been infrequent, and I did not pay much attention to this—I went to bed—next morning, Friday, about a quarter-past eleven, the prisoner having gone out, I spoke to Mrs. Raine, and she and I went up to the prisoner's room—the deceased was in bed and unconscious—her face was covered
with dried blood, and her hands and neck, and she was foaming at the mouth—I went downstairs, and saw the prisoner on his return, about a quarter past twelve—I asked him if he had had a doctor—he said he had been for one, and he was not at home—I said, "You had better go for another; your wife is dying," and he did—a short time after a doctor came—after that I went upstairs, and saw the prisoner in the room—I said, "I think this is rather serious, Mr. Swinton; I don't think she will recover"—he said, "I shan't care if she does not"—I said, "You have knocked her about"—he said, "She fell about"—I said, "Of course you can tell us that, but you must not tell experienced men that; you have hit her, have you not?"—he said he had—she died on the Saturday afternoon.
Cross-examined. It was he who fetched the doctor—when I spoke of not telling experienced men that, I was referring to her having been knocked about before.
REBECCA RAINE . I am the wife of George Raine, of 140, Haggerston Road—the prisoner and the deceased had been living there seven or eight months—they had frequent quarrels during that time—I have constantly seen bruises on her face, and very often black eyes—he did nothing for a livelihood that I know of—on the night of 16th May my husband and I were in bed—he woke me up about half-past twelve—I heard three or four thuds in the prisoner's room, and I heard him swearing at her—I did not hear her say anything, only, "Oh, dear; oh, my"—my husband was listening, and he got out of bed and knocked against the wall of the prisoner's room—then all was quiet for about five minutes—then I heard one heavy thud, as if someone had been knocked down—after that I heard no more—next day about half-past eleven or twelve the prisoner went and brought back Kate Murphy—I went up and knocked at the door—I went in—the deceased was then unconscious and foaming at the mouth, and there was blood over her face—I said the doctor should be fetched—I went down and sent Mrs. Healey up—I heard the doctor say, "How did she come by that black eye?"—the prisoner said, "I gave it to her"—the doctor said, "It is a pity you hit her"—that was all I heard—I came down again—on Saturday when I went up I saw a great change, and she died about five minutes to five—when I saw her on the 14th she had a very black eye—she had it about six weeks before—I did not notice that it was worse—she had bruises about her.
Cross-examined. The wall that separates our rooms is very thin; I could hear what went on in the next room.
GEORGE RAINE . I am the husband of the last witness—our room adjoins the prisoner's—on the morning of May 17th, between twelve and one, I was awoke by hearing a heavy thud on the floor of their room—I heard the deceased say, "Oh, dear; oh, my"—I heard the prisoner swearing—I knocked at the wall—after that I heard two more thuds—no answer was given to my knock.
JOHN TEMPLER CROSBY CONRY (M.D., of Middleton Road, Dalston). On May 17th, about one in the day, I went to 104, Haggerston Road, to the first floor front room—the prisoner was not there—the deceased was lying on the bed unconscious, breathing heavily—the left side of her face and chin was very much bruised, and she had a black eye—when I saw her next day I saw bruises on the right side—there were indications of
paralysis; she never recovered consciousness—the left side was bruised rather behind and over the ear—the ear was cut; that was the result of violence—the bruise under the chin was, I should say, caused by a blow—all the bruises I saw were recent—on the 18th, when I went again, I saw a fresh bruise on the right ear and temple—that was caused by a blow, I should say inflicted within twelve hours—it takes within six or eight hours for a bruise to develop, I should say at least an hour and a half or two hours—she died on Saturday afternoon at five minutes to five—in conjunction with another surgeon I made a post-mortem examination—I found sixty-five bruises on the body—one behind each ear, and two running at the back of the kidney; one was over the left kidney, which was ruptured; that might have been inflicted with the toe of a boot; it could not have been caused by an ordinary fall, only by a fall from a height or downstairs—I should think it must have been inflicted while lying down on the floor—the bruises behind the ears had resulted in rupture of blood-vessels on the brain—the extent of the bruises behind the right and left ears was rather greater than the surface of the ears, and extended a little before and behind them; and in my opinion that violence on the ears caused the rupture of the blood-vessel and death—on the post-mortem I found a large clot of blood extending over the brain which in my opinion was caused by either or both of those injuries—that would account for the paralysis I found in the cheek—the injury on the back, possibly caused by a boot and causing the rupture of the kidney, would have been sufficient in itself to cause death—the primary cause of death was the rupture of the blood-vessels on the brain; the rupture of the kidney and shock to the system from it would contribute to the death; I do not say it would accelerate death—none of the sixty-five wounds which I found on the woman were of old standing; there were other wounds apart from the sixty-five, which were of old standing—there was some furniture in the room.
BARNARD FINUCANE (Detective Constable). In the evening of 18th May I went to 104, Haggerston Road, where I saw the body of the deceased—about nine the same night I saw the prisoner in the Mayfield Road, and I told him I should take him into custody for causing his wife's death, and cautioned him that anything he said would be noted and used in evidence against him—I took him to the Dalston Police-station, where he was formally charged—he made no reply—prior to being charged he said, "The woman is not my wife; her name is Lucy Delfosse"—I found in the room at 104, Haggerston Road this bag, in its present condition, with the handle broken, the frame bent, and the marks of blood inside.
GUILTY of manslaughter. — Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
533. MENDEL HOWARD, Feloniously and without lawful authority or excuse knowingly having in his possession certain plates, stones, materials, and paper on which were engraved foreign undertakings, and parts of foreign undertakings, for the payment of money.
MESSRS. C. MATHEWS and HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.
29th, about three p.m., I saw the prisoner near Sloane Square Station—I said, "Mr. Howard"—he turned round—I said, "You are Mr. Mendel Howard, of 57, Chester Terrace, and you are the occupier of the house"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "I am Inspector Jarvis, of Scotland Yard; your name has cropped up in connection with certain suspected persons, and I want to have a chat with you at your place"—he accompanied me to the house, and opened the door with his latch-key—we went into the front door, and I produced my warrant, and said, "Mr. Howard; this is my real business; we have a warrant to search your premises"—I read the warrant to him—he said, "I know what you want; I will save you a lot of trouble; you will find nothing in this part of the house"—I followed him to the basement, with the other officers who accompanied, me—the back room in the basement was locked with a padlock, which he unlocked with a key on a ring—we followed him in—I saw two printing presses and photographic appliances and chemicals in the room; other things were in a cupboard which was not locked—in a locked iron box I found sixteen metal plates for producing 1,000 franc notes of the Bank of France; each was for the production of a particular part of the note, some for the front, some for the back, another for the signatures, and so on—I found sixteen photographic glass negatives of those plates, six ditto very much enlarged, four enlarged photos of the same, a lithographic stone for producing the water-mark, twelve enlarged photographs of a 100 franc note, two small negatives of the same, five unfinished notes for 1,000 francs, seven pieces of water-marked paper for 1,000 franc notes—I found the following things for printing bonds and coupons of the Paris, Lyons, and Mediterranean Railway Company. Nine plates, three small negatives of bond stamps, one lithographic stone with the company's name thereon, five pieces of bond paper with watermark of the company impressed, fifty-two unfinished bonds, these two genuine bonds with coupons attached, seventy-one sheets of unfinished coupons on paper very similar to the genuine ones, two photographs of bonds, three bronze stamps, three photographs on glass of stamps for the same, ten negatives of bond coupons and stamps; one portion of a genuine bond and coupon cut from the bond No. 254846, which we found in the box, and pasted on glass—that portion contains the arms of the company, and is stamped with a die, of which we found this facsimile made on copper apparently—on the back of the genuine bonds, just where the coupons are attached, is a stamp produced by an India rubber stamp—I found this metal stamp which would produce the same impression—I found this official list of bonds stopped in France, and among them are the numbers of these two railway bonds which we found—we found no completed bonds of the railway company with the coupons attached—the coupons were separate; some of them were numbered—none of the bonds were completed with their numbers corresponding with any of the stopped bonds—at the place where the genuine bond is joined to the coupons there is some very small printing, which is half covered where they are joined; that small printing is reproduced—I also found this stamp for producing the impression which I found on the face of the bond—I found the following materials for producing Belgian notes and bonds:—Two negatives of a twenty-franc note on the Banque Nationals de Bruxelles; three enlarged photographs of the Ville de Bruxelles bonds; two negatives
of the Ville de Bruxelles coupons; six enlarged photographs of sections of the Ville de Bruxelles bonds; a negative of the Antwerp bond loan; a lithographic stone with the arms of the City of Antwerp there on, to produce the water mark; six sheets of Antwerp coupons unfinished; four unfinished bonds with coupons attached; three photographs of sections of the same bonds and coupons; seven Ville des Anvers bonds unfinished, having the water-mark corresponding to the genuine—the following things we found relating to German notes: Three metal plates, with sections of a five-mark note; three negatives of same; two photographs of the above sections; one photograph of the whole of the front of a five-mark note; seven proof sheets of sections of the five-mark note, and the negative of a section of a note, value not shown; this genuine five-mark note, of which this appears to be a reproduction—this is the metal plate for printing the figure of a man in armour, which appears; this appears to be an impression from that plate—I found the following relating to America: Three plates of United States ten-cent notes; a plate showing a portion of the United States one-dollar note; a plate showing two heads of Martha Washington, as it is on the United States notes; a negative of an Equador postage-stamp; an unfinished portion of a United States dollar note; five negatives of dollar notes with Martha Washington thereon; two negatives of portions of dollar notes—this is the collection of plates for producing these ten-cent and one-dollar notes' and these are the genuine ten-cent and one dollar notes—in the whole collection there is no complete reproduction; the 1,000 franc note is complete all but the water-mark—we found the apparatus for producing that, and pieces of similar paper on which the water-mark was impressed—this is paper impressed with the water-mark of the Paris, Lyons, and Mediterranean Railway Company, and this is the plate for producing it—there is ink on these plates for producing the bonds and coupons of that company—this is a plate for producing the waves and marks at the back of the bonds and coupons—there is a separate plate for producing the printing at the back of the bond—this is the plate for producing the official's signature, and this for producing the water-mark on the 1,000 franc note—I also found two printing machines, photographic cameras, printing rollers, a fret saw, chemicals, silver sand, lithographic stones and other things—I said to the prisoner I should have to charge him with the felonious possession of these articles—he said, "I am an experimentalist; you cannot prove I have put any of these things off; but I suppose they will squeeze me for it"—I also found there a quantity of this note-paper, with the printed heading, "M. Howard, general merchant, dealer in old bank notes and coins, 63, Queen Victoria Street."
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I probably mentioned the name of Kerr and other suspected persons when I met you—I don't remember if you said you knew them—I did not say, "You are suspected of having made some credit letters for Kerr"—I think I asked you in your house whether you knew Kerr; we were two hours searching—I may have said in the street that your name had been brought to my knowledge in connection with Kerr and other suspected persons—after going to your study and taking down the plates and papers, I said, "How do you account for the possession of these things?"—I did not ask if you had a revolver—you
were searched at the station—you were cursorily searched at once.
Re-examined. I took from the prisoner a pocket-book, in which I found the name and address of John Kerr, 21 and 15, Gordon Street, Gordon Square, W.C., in the writing of the prisoner, I believe; I have seen him write—John Kerr is well known to the police, and is now waiting trial upon a charge of forgery connected with circular notes issued by Coutts and Co.
RICHARD LOW (Sergeant, Scotland Yard). I was with Jarvis at this search—I called the prisoner's attention to the iron box, and asked him what was in it—he said, "There is nothing in that"—I found it was locked, and asked for the key, and took it from the bunch—I found in it a complete set of plates for printing 1,000 franc notes on the Bank of France—I said to the prisoner, "What do you call these?"—he laughed, and made no reply.
Cross-examined. There was no other iron chest in the room—I believe there were two empty packing-cases—I don't know if the iron one was behind you when I asked you the question—you gave me the key from your ring; Jarvis had not taken it from you then; you unlocked the door.
LOUIS M. E. DE NEUILLY . I am sub-manager of the Secretarial Department of the Bank of France—I have had great experience in all matters relating to the manufacture of bank notes for fifteen years past, principally in connection with forgeries—I have examined a number of things found on the prisoner's premises by the police on 29th April—I have produced here a genuine specimen of a 1,000 franc note of the Bank of France, and I have examined a number of samples in a more or less complete state of the 1,000 franc notes found on the prisoner's premises. (The prisoner stated that he did not suggest that things found on his premises were not imitations of French notes, but that he wanted to show that nothing found was complete)—some of the notes found are complete except for the water-mark, and people do not always look at water-marks—in the present condition they would deceive an ordinary person, not an experienced eye like that of a cashier—this is complete as to the number and signatures—the water-mark is impressed on these pieces of paper—I have seen all the material necessary to make a complete note—the Bank of France could print a genuine note with these materials; we could not print a sufficient quantity, and there would be some differences, but we could print notes to deceive the ordinary public with these things—I could print one with these things that would deceive the cashier of the Bank of France—the prisoner has no authority from the Bank of France—I have made searches for the last eleven years, and we do not know his name; he never came to make any offers of services of any kind—we get officers to improve our notes and so on—I have seen some enlarged photographs of the 100 franc note; all that concerns the 1,000 franc note is finished; the 100 franc note is on its way to it—the first step to forge a note is to take a negative and enlarge it—these enlargements are incomplete; they remain at that stage; but the forgery of the 100 franc note would have been better than that of the 1,000 franc note—these are the two parts for the 1,000 franc note, one for the blue colour and the other for the pink—this enlargement for the 100 franc note is taken direct
from the glass on ferro-prussiate paper, and the parts of the blue you want to remove are taken out with acids, which were found in his possession—the signatures are printed in black, and that is done from another plate—this is my authority to represent the Paris, Lyons and Mediterranean Railway Company—I find here exact imitations of certificates and coupons of that company—the coupons are not attached—they are done by the same process, and the dies and stamps and all that is necessary is here—the prisoner had no authority from that company; he is quite unknown to them; I have searched the company's records—these two genuine bonds were stolen—this is an official list published in Paris, and circulated throughout France, of bonds that have been stopped.
Cross-examined. This must have been ferro-prussiate paper, but I cannot see now, because it has been removed—the paper on which I found the water-mark is good paper—this is a copy of the 1,000 franc note without the water-mark—there is the mark of "Reve" on this paper; he is a French paper maker; it is ordinary paper—this 1,000 franc note requires to have the edges cut, and to have the water-mark—there has not been applied to it the stuff which makes it appear yellow—nothing else is wanting—there is no fine hatching running over this as there is over the original; that is so small a difference that it would not deceive a cashier, but it would deceive the public—although the original note has the yellow tint, and is printed in cobalt and magenta, you can photograph it, because it is photographed here—the 1,000 franc note is not complete; but it is complete enough to deceive—this plate for printing the pink part of the note is coated with bitumen—I am an expert in notes, not in preparing plates—I suppose it would take four hours to print from this plate in the sunshine; it would take very long in London weather—this sheet of coupons seems to have been printed from this plate; it fits the plate as far as I can see; there seems a little difference in size; I suppose that came from moving the plate—the sheet could be printed from this plate—all the coupons are of the same size—I suppose the plate is the exact size of the original—I incline to say that you might have been able to make your copies of the same size as the original—the stamp on the back of the bond seems the same size as the original—the figures on this numerator seem a little larger than those on the coupons; I cannot see that they are a different shape—the paper is not damped before it is printed on—I have seen a great many of the chemicals; some are used for the photo-mechanical process, and many are used for making inks—borax is not used for photo-mechanical process, but it may be used for arranging the paper—iodine may be used mixed with other things—salicylic acid is used in chemistry—chloride of calcium is used for the colours—I don't know what many chemicals are used for—if someone could find out the means by which the forgery of bank notes could be prevented it would be worth a large sum of money—among your things were found hundreds of negatives; that would be the beginning of the work—I don't know that they have all been used—I daresay you made some till you got one you were satisfied with—I only saw about twenty negatives—I suppose they were all for the same work—the plates for printing the numbers and names were only intended for the 1,000 franc note—I do not know what the three-colour
printing process is; it is a new process—I could not say exactly how old these 1,000 franc note plates are; I would say a year or perhaps more—French bank notes are engraved, and then galvanos are made from the original plate, for printing.
Re-examined. Blue ink has been used on one plate and pink on another, and the plates have been recently used—blue and pink are the predominating colours of the French bank notes—those colours can be photographed; it is a very well-known process; a man did it a short time ago by the same process as the prisoner.
PAUL COMBAZ (Interpreted). I am chief of the bank note printing department of the Bank of Brussels—these are two negatives of a twenty-franc bank note of the Bank of Brussels, one of the front and the other of the back—the prisoner has no authority from the Bank of Brussels to make these notes; no such authority is likely to be given, nor has, nor will be given to him or anyone else.
Cross-examined. These photographs would be useful for enlarging from—this is a very bad negative, but it would be a very useful beginning. (The prisoner stated that he acknowledged making part copies of the city of Berlin and the city of Antwerp bonds, but that they would only resemble artists' proofs, and could not be used for forging bonds or shares.)
JULES HENNET . I am head of the financial department of the Municipality of Brussels—I have seen among these things produced six small negatives of different parts of a city of Brussels bond, and a negative of the whole of the face and of the coupon—these are photographs of the bond, and of one-fourth, and of the other three-fourths of the face of the bond, very much enlarged—there is a zinc plate of the whole of the face of the bond, and a photograph of the bond—there are not materials here from which an imitation of the Brussels bond could be made—the prisoner had no authority from Brussels to make any of these plates, or print any of these bonds—I am authorised to represent here the city of Antwerp, and to make the same statement with regard to that city.
HANS HERMSEN . I am chief inspector of the Imperial printing and engraving department of Berlin, where the five-mark notes are engraved and made—I have not seen here materials from which imitations of the five-mark note might have been made—there is not sufficient here to do anything with: they are only experiments; it is only the beginning—the prisoner has no authority to print any five-mark notes or any notes of the German Government—this is the complete print of the front of a five-mark note, and it is very nearly the same colour as the genuine one.
Cross-examined. This is a print direct from a photographic plate on blue ferro-prussiate paper—a boy or girl with a photographic apparatus could do this, if they could photograph at all, but this is from a very good negative.
WILLIAM HUSEN . I am chief of the United States Secret Service, Washington—I have seen a portion of a one-dollar note on a plate produced from the prisoner's possession—it has been taken from a genuine note by a photographic process—these are genuine ten-cent and one-dollar notes—this plate with the two heads of Martha Washington has been taken from this negative, which was taken from a genuine note—the prisoner has no authority from the United States Government to manufacture notes or make photographs or plates of notes.
Cross-examined. These could be used if you had finished them by getting the reverse side—this other one is forged; here is the plate for it—this is a counterfeit thirty-cent U.S. stamp; this one is genuine—this part of the dollar note is of no use in its present state.
The prisoner called
VIRGINIE ROGTER (Interpreted). I was a servant at 57, Chester Terrace—the door of your room was always open till eight days before your arrest, and then it was locked because there were explosive things there.
Cross-examined. I do not know the name or address of the gentleman who came to see the prisoner every day.
The prisoner called another French witness to prove that he worked openly in view of the neighbourhood, and exposed photographic printing frames and other things in the garden for weeks in view of the neighbours. The evidence of the witness was not interpreted, but its purport as above stated was explained to the Jury.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he was educated as a civil engineer and came here from America and worked at inventions; that he took an office in Queen Victoria Street, and sold stamps and old bank notes to procure a livelihood; that he afterwards came into communication with a gentleman whose name and address the police knew, and set himself to discover the best means to prevent the forgery of bank notes and bonds, the gentleman finding the money for his experiments; that the imitations produced were done by the simplest photo-mechanical process; that had he wished to forge he could have produced much better specimens; he urged that no complete notes or bonds were found in his possession, and he explained that tie had the list of stopped bonds because he bought five old bonds, and he desired to see if any of them had been stopped.
GUILTY .— Ten Years Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Friday, June 21st, 1895.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. RANDOLPH Prosecuted.
WILLIAM BARTON . I am a costermonger, living in Lamb Street, Lambeth—on 17th May, about one in the day, I went into a urinal—as I came out I ran across the road, and I accidently knocked against the prisoner's arm—he exclaimed, "What the f—hell are you doing of?"—I turned round and said, "Have I hurt you?"—he repeated the words and said, "I will shoot you"—I walked away about twenty yards; I looked
round and saw him pull a pistol out of his pocket and fire; nothing hit me—he ran away, I ran after him, and a policeman caught him before I got to him—he was taken into custody and charged.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. A young chap, a friend of mine, was with me; he went on before me; I was going to join him—he is outside the Court now—I did not strike you—you pointed the pistol straight at me.
JAMES WILMOT . I am an errand boy, and live at 74, Brook Street, Lambeth—on 17th May I was with Barton—I saw him come out of the urinal, and run across the road—he knocked into the prisoner's arm accidentally—the prisoner swore at him and said, "I will shoot you"—Barton walked on, and the prisoner pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot at him—he turned and a policeman stopped him—he pointed the pistol at the obelisk—he did not tire over Barton's head.
Cross-examined. I had not been in the urinal; I was going to work, just passing.
JOHN MOORE . I am twelve years old—I live at 23, Marble Street, Lambeth—on 17th May I was in Lambeth Road—I saw Barton; I did not know him before—he was coming out of the urinal—he made a run and he ran into the prisoner—I saw the prisoner put his hand in his pocket, I heard a report, and I saw him put his hand back—I did not see what he had in his pocket.
THOMAS MOORE (143 L). On May 17th I was in Lambeth Road about a quarter past one—I heard the report of firearms, and I saw the prisoner placing something under his coat—I did not see exactly what it was at the time—I asked him what he had got there—he said, "A revolver"—I took it away from him—he said, "I will give it you"—I said, "No, I will take it, please," which I did, and I produce it—it is one of the old bulldog pattern, with six chambers; one barrel had been recently discharged the others were loaded with bullets—I took him into custody—he said, "I will shoot some of the b———s, if they still persist in annoying me."
Prisoner's defence. The two young men came against me and knocked me on the head, I turned round and said, "What do you mean by that?" He gave me the tongue as if he did not care. I pulled out the pistol and said, "I could kill you, but I am not going to kill you," and I fired at a great building to frighten him. The policeman came up and said, "Have you a pistol!" I said, "Yes." The young man told his story. There was nobody else there; the street was vacant. It is a bad thing for me. I may be sent to prison for a hundred years, and when I come out the mystery of the revolver will be made known.
THOMAS MOORE (Recalled). The inspector and I made search for the bullet, but could not find any trace of it—the street is broad; we searched for about 200 yards each way, and also in the Asylum grounds—the road is Macadamised—I should have expected to find marks in the direction the prisoner took, but found none.
NOT GUILTY .
The same witnesses repeated their evidence, and the JURY found the prisoner
GUILTY.— Judgment respited.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. HUGHES Prosecuted.
ROSE MANNING . I am a widow—I carry on a stationer's and printer's business at 19, Nelson Street, Greenwich—about 9.30 p.m. on June 6th I went out, leaving a servant and a little grandchild in the house—the doors were securely fastened—I returned at 11.30—I found the window broken, and missed two purses, a mirror, and two brushes, value about 25s., which were in the window when I left the house—these two stones had been thrown through different parts of the window; one broke a picture that was hanging further back—I had noticed the prisoner standing at the end of the market, which is opposite our house, about 9.30, when I went out, and I said to my servant what a peculiar-looking man he was.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. There are no shutters to my shop window—it is about three feet high—there were two round places where the stones went through—I did not see a tram conductor come up when you were charged before the inspector.
HENRY MCCANN . I am an army master tailor, at present quartered at Shoeburyness—I used to live at 3, Nelson Street, Greenwich—on June 6th I was in Nelson Street at about 11.30 p.m.—I heard a crash of glass, and ran out, and saw the prisoner on the opposite side of the road outside Mrs. Manning's window, with his arm through the window—I ran across the road, and caught hold of him, and asked him what he had been doing—he said "Nothing"—I felt outside his coat and found it was rather bulky—I tore it open and found the mirror and a large brush under his coat—I said, "I shall take you into custody; you will have to come with me"—he said, "Don't do that; that is all I have got; it won't do you any good, or me either"—on the way to the station he became rather violent and I struck him—he took this purse out of his right hand side pocket and threw it in the road—a bystander picked it up and gave it to me—when the prisoner found it was useless, he took this other brush out of his pocket, handed it to me, and said "You may as well have this"—I took him some distance till I met a constable—the prisoner was perfectly sober and rational.
Cross-examined. A tram conductor came after me to the station—he, being rather flurried, picked out at the station a young man who had assisted me—I lived opposite Mrs. Manning, at 3, Nelson Street—when you were at the window I was on my balcony.
THOMAS JACKSON (409 R), On the night of 6th June McCann brought the prisoner to me—I took him to the station—when charged he said "Yes, that is quite right; I have a complete answer to it"—I should say he was perfectly sober.
Cross-examined. I did not see the tram conductor.
The prisoner in his defence stated that someone must have fallen against the window; that he, being drunk and seeing these things, which had fallen through the window, picked them up, but with no intention of taking them away.
GUILTY .— Nine Months Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Justice Wright.
MESSRS. CHARLES MATHKWS and BODKIN Prosecuted, and MR. LAWLESS Defended.
BRIDGET MOODY . I am the wife of Percival Moody, of 12, Goldsmith's Road, Peckham—the deceased, Mary Worboys, was my mother; she was twice married; I was the daughter of the first marriage—she married the prisoner about August, 1881; there were several children, who died—she lived with the prisoner at several places, lastly at 303, Green Hundred Road, Peckham Rye—he had been a teetotaller some three years—my mother worked with Mrs. Spanswick—I remember my mother prosecuting the prisoner for assaulting her—he was fined 40s.; my mother paid the fine—afterwards, on 1st February, she was charged with assaulting him; she was bound over to keep the peace towards him—a little while after that the prisoner ceased to live with her; they parted on good terms; she continued to live at Green Hundred Road—I saw her the week before she was murdered—I saw the prisoner on the afternoon of 4th May, walking from the direction of the house—I afterwards saw my mother's dead body at the mortuary.
ELIZABETH ENGLISH . I am the wife of Edward English, of 16, Grange Street—I knew the prisoner and deceased as neighbours—on Friday, 3rd of May, about half-past nine in the morning, I saw the prisoner coming down Grange Road—he went to his door in Green Hundred Road—he asked for his wife—I said she had gone to work—I afterwards saw him returning, and then saw him no more—on Saturday evening I saw the deceased at nine o'clock; she was then all right.
ELIZABETH SPANSWICK . I am the wife of William Spanswick, and am a laundress at 54, Vestry Road, Camberwell—the deceased worked for me in the laundry—I saw the prisoner at the laundry on Friday morning, 3rd May, between eleven and half-past; I asked him to come in; I had seen him once before—he went and spoke to his wife—she would not go to the door to him—he said, "I have come to explain where I have been"—she said, "I don't want to know," and he went away—a few minutes after she left her work, and went away—next day, Saturday, there was no work for her, but she came in the evening for her wages about half-past seven—I paid her; that was the last time I saw her.
Cross-examined. She was in the habit of turning a mangle; it was a large patent mangle with stones in it—she was a fairly strong woman, about five feet four inches, a strongly-built woman.
MARY MORAN . I am a widow, and live at 15, Grange Street, Peckham—I knew Mrs. Worboys and the prisoner—on Friday morning, 3rd May, about half-past eleven, I saw them together in Grange Street—the prisoner nodded to me, and I crossed the road to them—I asked him how he was getting on—he said, "Very fair, indeed. I have only just come out of the infirmary"—Mrs. Worboys said, "Don't take notice of him; come up to Peckham Station and I will have this letter read to him"—it
was a letter she had had from the Magistrate—they went off together, and I never saw him again till the Monday.
Cross-examined. I don't know whether he seemed in a weakly condition; I did not take any notice—I had no reason to doubt his statement—I had not seen him for several weeks—he was sober and hard-working and so was she, just the same.
JAMES COOK (115 P) The prisoner and his wife came to Peckham Station about half-past twelve on May 3rd last—she produced a letter; I saw it was a maintenance order—I referred them to Inspector Taylor—I told the prisoner that it was a maintenance order to pay his wife 7s. a week—she said, "I told you so"—they talked together, and left.
Cross-examined. She appeared excited, and talked loudly, as if in a bad temper—the prisoner appeared very quiet—I did not know that he had just come out of the infirmary; he did not say so to me.
EMILY DENNIS . I live at 24, Green Hundred Road—I knew the prisoner and deceased as neighbours—on Friday, 3rd May, I saw the prisoner knock at the door of his house—shortly after that, about the middle of the day, I saw him and deceased together in the street, walking away from the house—after a time they came back, and both entered the house—on Saturday, 4th May, about eight in the morning, I saw the prisoner come out of the house with a milk can in his hand—after that I saw him come out again and go down the street; that was the last time I saw him—I saw the deceased passing my door to speak to a neighbour; that was the last time I saw her.
Cross-examined. I had known them between eleven and twelve years; he was a quiet, hard-working man—I have seen her rather excitable at times—she was a strong, powerfully-built woman.
ELIZABETH WHITE . I am the wife of George White, who keeps a beer-house—on Saturday evening, 4th May, the deceased came in and called for two glasses of beer; another woman was with her—I could not say whether she was the worse for drink or not.
Cross-examined. I had seen her on several occasions; she was a very bad-tempered woman and very spiteful—at times she has come in the worse for drink, and I would not serve her.
FREDERICK GEORGE PACKER . I am a blacksmith's hammerman, of 6, Upper Hall Street—I knew the deceased and the prisoner for some time—I am brother-in-law to Mrs. Goody—her husband was ill and died some time ago—he and the prisoner were members of a club—I know that the prisoner called to see him during his illness—on May 4th, about half-past ten in the evening, I was in the Coopers' Arms public-house—Mrs. Worboys came in and abused me something cruel, and called me everything—I never spoke to her in my life, she abused me for being brother-in-law of Mrs. Goody—she was fearfully drunk.
Cross-examined. She has on other occasions accused the prisoner of having improper relations with Mrs. Goody; there was no truth at all in it—the prisoner occasionally brought her husband's money from the club—on this Saturday night the deceased was abusive, not only to me, but everybody about the neighbourhood.
drink—my attention was called to her speaking in a very loud voice—she appeared to be going to strike Packer, and I instantly ordered her to be ejected, and she was put out.
Cross-examined. I had known her before—this was not the first time I have had to order her out—when in this condition she was decidedly quarrelsome—she was using very shocking language indeed on this night.
THOMAS BIDDLE . I am landlord of the Dapple Grey public-house, Lower Park Road—I know the deceased about a month, my attention having been drawn to her as the woman that had split her husband's head open with a shovel—on Saturday night, May 4th, about eleven, she came into my house the worse for drink—she used very abusive and filthy language—she was refused to be served, and I ordered her out—she was in a quarrelsome state, and annoying the people in the bar.
ELIZABETH GOODY . I am a wardrobe keeper, of 11, Naylor Road, Peckham—the deceased brought accusations against me and her husband; they were completely untrue—I was only alone with him twice in my life, when he brought me money from the club—the deceased has used very violent and foul language to me.
JOHN JAMES PLANT . I live at 35, Green Hundred Road, next door to 33—I knew the prisoner and his wife—on Saturday night, 4th of May, between one and two a.m. I was awoke by screams from next door, they lasted a few minutes, after that all was quiet.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner that evening in his own yard—he was then perfectly sober.
AMELIA ANN BAILEY . I live at 31, Green Hundred Road, which is next to 33—on 4th May I went to bed about midnight—some time after I was awoke by screams from a female; I could not say from which direction; it was only one long scream, then all was quiet.
Cross-examined. I had known the deceased some time; she was a very excitable woman—I had to summon her once for breaking up my garden—that was last August or September; after that I kept out of her way.
HENRY SWADDLING (162 P). I was on duty at Peckham Police-station about a quarter to three in the early morning of 5th May, when the prisoner came there—he seemed to be quite sober and quite self-possessed—he said, "Are you here, mate" (offering me the key). "This is the finish of the separation; I have done for her." I took him to the inspector on duty, and afterwards went with Inspector Briggs to the room.
HENRY GEORGE BARRETT (Police Sergeant 386 W). On the morning of 5th May I was on duty at Peckham Station when the prisoner was brought to me by Swaddling—he said, "I have strangled my old. woman, governor"—I said, "Nonsense, you have not done that?"—he said, "Yes, she is dead enough"—I sent for Inspector Briggs—shortly afterwards the prisoner commenced to make a statement—I cautioned him—he said he desired to make a statement, and I took it down in writing—I then read it over to him, and he signed it; this is it. (Read: "I, David Worboys, at eight p.m., 4th inst., went home sober, and sat by the fire till 10.30 p.m., and then went to bed at twelve night. My wife, Mary Worboys, aged forty-eight, to whom I have been married for this past fourteen years, came in drunk (which is usual), and commenced to abuse me, and said that I had been living with a woman named Goody
(a widow), the wife of a cabman, who has been dead about two years, and who belonged to a slate club which was held at the Victoria Baths, Martin's Road, Peckham, and who, whilst sick, I visited, being directed so to do as a member of the said club. I denied that I knew anything about the woman, as to sleeping with her, or anything wrong. She still kept on abusing me and pulled me out of bed two or three times, and kept on striking me with her hands. I then lost my temper and struck her, and knocked her against the window, and struck her several times with a piece of iron used as a rake for fire stoves. She then fell on the floor. I then picked up the chamber and struck her on the head, and afterwards put my thumbs in her throat and strangled her; and left her, as I thought, dead. I wish to add that previous to this I was an inmate, at Saint Saviour's Union in the Borough, from the 21st March till 2nd April, present year, and then went to Gravesend to work on the 3rd and came back to London same night, and went into Constance Road Work-house, Dulwich, where I remained till 29th April, during which time she (my wife) got out an order for me to pay her 7s. a week for deserting her. On the 29th ult. I went to Eltham, and returned on the following day, and went into Gordon Road Workhouse, and remained there till the 4th inst. When I went home she (my wife) presented a maintenance order to me for deserting her. I then went to see the doctor at Constance Road Workhouse, and was told that I would have to see Mr. Hall, the relieving officer. I did see him, and he told me that unless I could tell him where I was when the order was made, he would do nothing in t. I told him I was in Constance Road Workhouse from the 3rd to the 29th April. He (relieving officer) then said 'I can do nothing in it'") That statement was made about ten minutes past three in the morning—he was detained, and the police went to the house—while he was waiting he put up his two thumbs, and said, "I put these in her gullet, and she did die hard, governor"—a short time afterwards he said, "I thought I may as well do the job and be hanged, as to be made a convict of"—Inspector Briggs and Swaddling went to the house, and when they returned the prisoner was charged with the murder of his wife—he was perfectly cool and collected in manner—when he first came to the station his thumb was cut and bleeding; I bound it up.
WILLIAM JOHN BRIGGS (Inspector P). On 5th May, about three in the morning, I went to 33, Green Hundred Road with Swaddling—before starting the prisoner made a statement to me—he said, "If you go to 33, Green Hundred Road you will find a lamp alight on the mantelpiece in the kitchen. If it is out you will find a candle and matches on the table. Go upstairs in the bedroom; you will find my wife dead"—I went into the kitchen—on the mantelshelf there was a lamp alight, and on the table there was a candle and matches—I found there a man's Oxford shirt; it was torn down the right side, and across the front, and the sleeves by the wristbands—it had wet blood upon it; I have it here—in the first floor back room I found the dead body of the woman lying on her back, with her legs straight out and her face turned towards the window—both hands were clenched—she was covered with a counterpane, sheet, and a blanket, carefully tucked under each side and under the heels, leaving exposed the upper part of the breast and the head—there were numerous contusions about the head and chest—I sent for the surgeon—the body only had a
chemise on; it was not quite cold—four panes in the window were broken, and the frame also—there was blood about the room, more especially where the body was lying, and just a smear on the bed—she was about a foot and a half from the window, between the window and the bedstead—the room was very small—I found portions of a chamber-pot immediately round the head—it was broken, and had wet blood upon it—under the bed I found this fire rake, such as is used for stoves—it was bent, and there was wet blood on both ends—there is hair adhering to it. now—I found a woman's stocking near the body, and a skirt hanging up behind the door—there was a bed in the back room; I could not say whether it had been used—it was only a mattress, which would leave no impression of a body—in the first floor front room there was a feather bed lying on the floor that had the impression of having been slept in, and also a pillow—at the top of the bed there was a quantity of woman's clothes, and on the table a pair of stays and a hat—one stocking was in the front room under the table, the other was near the body in the back room—Dr. Esler, the divisional surgeon, came and looked at the body—I went back to the station with the rake—the prisoner immediately said, "That is what I did it with. I meant to make a good job of it. Was she cold when you got there?" I said, "Not quite." He said, "Is she dead? Will she get over it?" I said, "She is dead." He said, "That is all right"—he requested me to go back to the house, and said, "You will find pawntickets on a sideboard in the kitchen, showing she has pledged my things"—I went back and found eleven pawntickets; all but one of them related to woman's attire—the tools he pledged in April.
Cross-examined. They were tools such as be would use—the body was found in the back room where the bed was—the clothes had been taken off and been placed over the body—it was daylight when I got there—the shirt the prisoner had on was all right; it looked as if he had changed his shirt; the torn shirt was in the kitchen—there was no light upstairs, as far as I saw.
Re-examined. There was a wash-house downstairs; he could have washed himself there.
ROBERT LESTER ESLER . I am surgeon to the P Division of Police—shortly after four in the early morning of 5th May I went with Constable Swaddling to the prisoner's room, and found the condition of things as described—I saw the body of the woman—there were bruises over the body and injuries to the back of the head—on May 7th I made a post-mortem examination—the cause of death was syncope from hemorrhage—the injuries were such as would be inflicted by such an instrument as this fire rake—the fatal wound was a V-shaped wound, most probably caused by two separate blows—they were incised wounds—there were ten wounds on the head, four on the left side and three at the back, two penetrating the skull—some were inflicted by the breaking of the chamber utensil—there were wounds and scratches all over the body—the organs were quite healthy—the marks on the neck were, no doubt, post-mortem appearances.
Cross-examined. As if the throat had been grasped—I heard the prisoner's statement read to him; he signed it in my presence—I noticed no marks on his face.
Evidence for the Defence.
A statement handed in by the prisoner to his Counsel was read as
follows: "When I done the deed I had been in bed an hour and a half. She' came in at twelve and commenced on me, saying I had been living with this woman all the time. She would not let me alone. I tried all in my power to make her quiet, but the more I tried the worse she went on. She kept on; she pulled me out of bed four or five times; she clawed hold of the hair of my head and bit my thumb; she tore my shirt off my back; I had to wrench myself away from her, she would not let me go; I was obliged to hit her with my left hand to make her leave go. Then I lost my temper, and don't remember anything after; when I came to myself I seemed just as if I had been to sleep, and did not know where I was. I looked about and saw the room all smothered in blood, and there she was, lying on the floor, and I was kneeling over her; she was cold. I had a funny feeling come over me, and I did not know what I did. I put on my clothes, and went to the station and gave myself up. That old piece of iron was lying there with blood and hair on it; that was how I knew what I done it with; and the chamber-pot was broken, and I don't know more."
GEORGE EDWARD WALKER . I am Medical Officer of Holloway Prison—I have had the prisoner under my observation from 7th of May, since he has been in the prison—he said he had had two sunstrokes in India; he has complained to me of almost constant headache, and he had an epileptic attack the day after he had been at the Police-court—he got up very early in the morning, and he was in an unconscious state, sitting and apparently taking notice of nothing—when spoken to he took no notice of what was said to him; afterwards he appeared to recover himself, like a man waking up out of sleep—I don't think it was a thing likely to be put on by a man of his class—he might be more irritable and lose more control over himself than a man who had not had a sunstroke—he might get into an almost unconscious state of fury, and be hardly conscious of what he was doing.
By the COURT. Numbers of people have sunstroke—no one is at all safe with persons suffering from sunstroke; there is always considerable damage to the brain from it—a good number become insane from it, and suffer from epilepsy—it may not develop itself some years afterwards; even in ten years.
Two witnesses deposed to the prisoner's good character.
GUILTY >of Manslaughter. Five Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
539. SUSAN COUNSELL (70), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously having nine counterfeit coins in her possession, with intent to utter them, having been convicted of a like offence on March 6th, 1893. Five other convictions were proved against her.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.
540. JOHN WILLIAM GARDINER* (25) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of Solomon Henry Jewell, and stealing 400 cigars and a bottle of whisky, his property.— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Six Months' Hard Labour.
542. WILLIAM PACKER**(18), and FREDERICK EPPS (16) , to burglary in the dwelling-house of John Hoare, and stealing two watches and other articles, his property, Packer having been convicted at this Court on July 23rd, 1894. [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] PACKER— Ten Months. EPPS— Four Months' Hard Labour.
MR. RICHARDS Prosecuted.
GEORGE EDGAR BALL . I have been General Secretary pro tem. of the Bow Wheelwrights' Society since the prisoner was discharged—I have been a member five years—I produce the balance-sheet for 1892 and 1893; the one for 1894 is for eighteen months; this is it—it is from March, 1893, to September, 1894; the prisoner handed it to me on December 18th—he was secretary and treasurer—by this sheet he had, to account for £284—it shows £35 9s. 1d. in his hands, and £248 11s. 4d. in the bank—he was dismissed on February 6th, and Mr. Purver was appointed—complaints were made in the prisoner's presence as to the accuracy of the balance-sheet, and four gentlemen were appointed to investigate the books—the prisoner was present at the meeting of March 16th; he was pressed to make a statement, and he told us he was £56 short in our accounts—I had not seen the bank pass-book—I saw the official ledger on April 25th, showing the state of our account—that is not the amount which the prisoner has disclosed in his balance-sheet.
Cross-examined by the prisoner. I was one of the four auditors appointed to investigate—we had no opportunity of testing if anything was wrong, as you had got the pass book—I went over the accounts of the eighteen months.
Re-examined. I had no opportunity of seeing the pass-book—in February and March the prisoner kept out of the way, and refused to give it up; I only got it through the Post Office authorities.
FRANK JAMES PURVER . I am a wheelwright, of 15, Twyford Street, Caledonian Road—I have been a member of the society six years—the prisoner has been treasurer and secretary all that time—I am now the treasurer—I was an auditor last December—I did not sign this or any other balance-sheet—I went through a number of accounts, and was shown the cash account—I never saw the pass-book—each auditor took possession of the accounts—I am sure I never signed a balance-sheets—I always sign myself "Frank J. Purver"—I first saw this printed sheet when the prisoner delivered it to me on December 7th—I did not call his attention to it, nor did I at the meeting call his attention to its being a forgery, but I told the society at the meeting of the executive council on February 6th.
Cross-examined. You did not ask my permission to sign my name along with the other auditors; nothing was said about the balance-sheet—you put a piece in about the bank—you left at 11.50, just in time to catch the last 'bus; that is why I had to go.
Re-examined, The piece about the branch has nothing to do with the finances—I have never given him permission to sign my name.
JOHN SEAMAN . I am a blacksmith, of 2, Marie Street, Wandsworth, and chairman of this society, elected on February 6th—the prisoner came to me in March, and said he was £56 out in the society's accounts—I had
not then seen the society's bank pass-book—I heard him asked to produce it after I discovered that the balance-sheet was not correct—I got a copy from the Post Office, and found it was not true.
EDWARD MCDONALD . I am in the Savings Bank Department, General Post Office—the balance at the end of September, 1894, was £183 12s. Id.—it remained unaltered till October 30th, when £20 was drawn out, and on October 31st £20, £20 on January 7th, and £50 on February 8th.
ALFRED EYRLER JACOBS . I am managing clerk to Messrs. Ball and Co., of the Old Jewry—on May 22nd I went to the prisoner's house, and told him I came for the books of the society—he refused to give them to me—most of them have been delivered, except the bank book; this is an old one.
Cross-examined. You told me you had a counter account against the society.
The prisoner, in his defence, complained that he had not been allowed to go through the books, and that he had been expelled illegally, and was prosecuted through spite, having worked night and day for the society.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the JURY, as there were no proper auditors. — Two Months' Hard Labour.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. HUTTON Prosecuted, and MR. PURCELL Defended.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 22ND, 1895.